Of all the avatara in the Four Ages there is no doubt that Mazzarin was the most powerful and his death the most salient victory of the Dark during the Wind Age.
"The wolves of The Ermine have been a menace to the people of the Free Cities of the North... since the area was settled in the Axe Age."
"Second Era tradition tells of a hero rising in the East, who loosened the bloodless grip of the wicked things which had dominated his land for time beyond memory ... "
The Leveler was never killed. He was immobilized by sorcery, beheaded and burned at the stake in the Second Era.
And so Tireces returned as Moagim to end the Age of Reason . . .
A thousand years [after the Second Era, The Leveller] was drawn and quartered on the plains before Ileum, the tireless horses dragging the pieces of his lifeless body to the four corners of the world.
...and Connacht, the great hero of the Wind Age, returned as Balor to lay waste to the greatest empire the world had ever known.
Murgen believes us to be trapped inside the Tain, a relic forged by the Smiths of Muirthemne during the Wind Age. Soon after its construction, the Tain was taken from Muirthemne by raiding barbarians from the south, and believed to be lost forever.
Of all the avatara in the Four Ages there is no doubt that Mazzarin was the most powerful and his death the most salient victory of the Dark during the Wind Age.
I'd always heard that the Myrkridia were hunted to extinction by Connacht, the great hero of the Wind Age.
[ . . . ]
Alric says Connacht and Balor are two different names for the same person. I think four months in the desert addled his mind. How could the greatest hero of the Wind Age, the king of Muirthemne during its Golden Age, become the greatest evil of our time?
One hundred ten years ago, during the Wolf Age, Muirthemne was sacked, burned and all but buried under a mountain of rock and sand by Balor and the Fallen Lords.
The King has decided to fight fire with fire. He seeks Myrdred, an avatara of the Wolf Age whom Balor renamed "The Deceiver" after bending him to his will.
Again in the Fourth Era [the Leveller's] body was destroyed by fire, his ashes mixed with salt and buried under the Mountains of Kor.
A war of succession fought in the Province 150 years before present events, in and around Covenant.
Long enemies of the civilized nations, the truce which brought the fir'Bolg and their famed bowmen into the Light was forged by ou'Kahn the Great King and Caliban during the Sword Age.
No man has seen one of the giants since the first battle for Seven Gates thirteen years ago. They helped contain the fury of Balor himself for three years, but on the fourth they did not return and the pass was lost.
The battle for Madrigal lasted four days without pause. Shiver fell on the first night in a spectacular dream duel with Rabican, one of the Nine. No one expected this. We have never before challenged one of The Fallen and won.
After the Great War, the armies of the Dark collapsed and the Fallen Lords were swallowed up by history. We believed we had entered a golden age, a new era of peace, and our armies laid down their weapons to begin the long task of rebuilding the world. For sixty years we worked our fields and tended our cattle and did all the things that we had fought to defend, until the war became something that fathers told their sons and grandfathers their grandchildren.
But sixty years is nothing to the likes of a Fallen Lord. And while King Alric was restoring the Province to its former glory, Soulblighter was plotting its infinite ruin.
The cities of Scales, Covenant and Tyr have all fallen to him in the last three weeks.
After we settled in, Garrick told us of events in the west. Shiver's attack on White Falls came as expected, and the battle there raged for the better part of a month, until Baelden and the seventh legion swept up from the south and attacked Shiver's flank. Her army was forced to retreat east toward Willow and the combined forces under Alric and Baelden fell upon her rear guard, destroying it utterly.
The victory was short-lived, however, as Shiver returned a week later with an army of Myrkridia. This time we were pushed across the Meander and now Tandem's fall is inevitable.
The Leveler was never killed. He was immobilized by sorcery, beheaded and burned at the stake in the Second Era.
And so Tireces returned as Moagim to end the Age of Reason...
A thousand years [after the Second Era, the Leveller] was drawn and quartered on the plains before Ileum, the tireless horses dragging the pieces of his lifeless body to the four corners of the world.
Of all the avatara in the Four Ages there is no doubt that Mazzarin was the most powerful and his death the most salient victory of the Dark during the Wind Age.
" ... the seventh wave of Thrall stumbled and climbed over the slippery, piled dead and Mazzarin saw The Watcher with them and at last knew the number of his days."
Murgen believes us to be trapped inside the Tain, a relic forged by the Smiths of Muirthemne during the Wind Age. Soon after its construction, the Tain was taken from Muirthemne by raiding barbarians from the south, and believed to be lost forever.
The enormous volcano overlooking Seven Gates is erupting for the first time in ten centuries. The tremors started late yesterday and since midnight there has been a constant rain of hot ash and fire. Even here, thirty miles away, it already feels like summer.
Connacht was the great hero of the Wind Age, who drove the evil Moagim from the earth...
Again in the Fourth Era his body was destroyed by fire, his ashes mixed with salt and buried under the Mountains of Kor.
"In honor of their heroism, Connacht allowed the men of the North who had been slain defending Llancarfan to be buried in the Mausoleum of Clovis - the Royal Crypt of the Cath Bruig."
"Connacht could no longer ignore the atrocities committed by the Spider-cult but when he assailed their shrines, no trace could be found of the Smiths of Muirthemne or their followers..."
Desirous of power and immortality, the warrior race of the Myrmidons left their northern kin to join Balor and the Fallen Lords, and so they became known as The Kithless.
Fifty years ago the Fallen overcame the armies of the Cath Bruig, sacked Muirthemne and turned the empire East of the Cloudspine into desert (now called the Devoid).
One hundred ten years ago, during the Wolf Age, Muirthemne was sacked, burned and all but buried under a mountain of rock and sand by Balor and the Fallen Lords. As I stood before the ruins of the Mausoleum of the Cath Bruig I could not help but wonder what we hoped to gain by owning it.
...and Connacht, the great hero of the Wind Age, returned as Balor to lay waste to the greatest empire the world had ever known.
"Returning to the ruin Muirthemne had become in their absence, the deathless Heron Guards each tore nine gold tiles from the palace wall, every one the weight of a grown man ... "
"Hours after the fall of Myrgard, the dwarves defending Stoneheim collapsed the barbican, entombing ten thousand of their number behind as many tons of shattered rock."
"Maeldun's only words on returning exhausted to Tyr from a long campaign in the East to find half the city burning after a raid by pirates from Leix were 'Show me the way to Leix.'"
Long enemies of the civilized nations, the truce which brought the fir'Bolg and their famed bowmen into the Light was forged by ou'Kahn the Great King and Caliban during the Sword Age.
"On the last day of the siege at Seven Gates a priest asked the Giants present of their faith. A young one showered the man with chips of stone as he struck the ground, 'The Earth is our Faith.'"
Mauriac was prince regent here during King Alric's adolescence, and knows of an underground tunnel just outside the city which leads to Shoal, a village four miles away down the coast. The King's family used it to escape Covenant when Soulblighter leveled the city twelve years ago, and today we hope it will help us elude The Watcher.
"Iri trekked for three days through Ghol haunted hills, eating as he walked, sleeping between footfalls; he ran for the last 5 hours, traversing the 26 mile wide corpse-filled morass ringing Covenant..."
After the armies of The Province were finally broken at Covenant, the survivors scattered among the free cities of the North, taking their arms with them.
"...Bahl'al spurred his army onward with a blistering wind. Three full days before his army arrived... the citizens of Tyr knew their doom lumbered nearer with each passing hour..."
I don't know why [The Watcher] attacked The Deceiver, unless somehow he found out what was going on in Silvermines. One of the veterans said that these two had it out after the battle for Tyr, twelve years ago, and that The Watcher barely survived. I have a feeling the real reasons for what happened today go back even farther than that.
We know The Deceiver is looking for the arm too, and has been digging up Silvermines since last summer.
"...those that Phelot deemed unsuitable for use as thrall... were given to the ghols, who hacked their limbs and chewed their flesh... this is how he dealt with the people of Avon's Grove."
I have yet to mention our jailor. It is the devil Phelot, the shade who decimated Avon's Grove during the Great War. It is a wonder he has not yet sought vengeance upon us, as he was sorely injured by The Deceiver upon our arrival.
Shiver, one of the Fallen Lords, has been attacking the city for two days, but so far has been held back by its defenders. We all know the battle for Madrigal will decide the fate of all the Northern lands, and that if it falls we will soon have nowhere to retreat but the ocean.
Fearing for their safety, the villagers here pleaded with us to remain when we broke camp this morning. None of them understand yet what is happening, but they have all seen the refugees from the south, and they are frightened.
Our officers seemed unsympathetic until the people returned with nine young pigs and ten dozen loaves of bread. Fifteen of us are to stay now, perhaps to fight boredom instead of the Fallen Lords, and watch the bridge here for two days.
Having turned back the attack on Crow's Bridge, we headed south to rejoin the Legion in another small town called Otter Ferry. On our way we met a force of our own men hurrying in the opposite direction, who gave us ill news.
The vanguard of our army, twenty thousand men, has been camped near Otter Ferry for two days now. The mayor of that village must have guessed our plan to cross the Scamander River behind the main enemy force, and to attack them by surprise.
Perhaps in the cowardly hope that he would be spared when the Dark sacked Madrigal, the mayor intends to betray us to the enemy. A quick death will be too good for him, but we will have time for nothing else.
One of the locals knows of the clearing where the mayor arranged his meeting with the Dark, and will lead us there.
Our vanguard has crossed the Scamander unchallenged and remains hidden on the southern bank of the river. Their assault will begin two hours after midnight against Shiver's right flank, at the same time the Madrigal garrison throws open the Gate of Storms and attacks her from the front.
But I won't be anywhere near Madrigal when this happens. An hour before the main attack a small group of men and I will head in the opposite direction and strike at the enemy camp alone, hoping to divert forces and attention from the city before the real battle begins.
The plan is to fight our way across a bridge and into the captured village of Comfort. From there we'll locate the enemy camp and create as much of a diversion as possible.
Every thrall that remains in the camp to deal with us is one less that our main force must hack to pieces at Madrigal.
I believe I have read of this in the journal. Shiver was defeated at Madrigal by her own vanity, thanks to advice given by the still living head of one of the Fallen Lords' old enemies. I wonder where the head is now; we could certainly use the help.
The battle for Madrigal lasted four days without pause. Shiver fell on the first night in a spectacular dream duel with Rabican, one of the Nine. No one expected this. We have never before challenged one of The Fallen and won.
The Head appears to know something about everything, and now it has us looking for an artifact called the Total Codex. Its been located in the ruined city of Covenant, but the first group sent to retrieve it has not returned.
In a few minutes Rabican himself is going to send a few of us through a World Knot to Covenant, to bring back the Codex.
Mauriac is on his feet now, talking to the men. We met him and a few other survivors of the first expedition hiding in a collapsed cellar a few hundred feet away from the outer wall, and joined them for a brief rest until dawn.
Mauriac was prince regent here during King Alric's adolescence, and knows of an underground tunnel just outside the city which leads to Shoal, a village four miles away down the coast. The King's family used it to escape Covenant when Soulblighter leveled the city twelve years ago, and today we hope it will help us elude The Watcher.
We were two days in that tunnel out of Covenant, The Watcher crossing above us every few hours, shaking the ground in his fury and twice nearly burying us alive. Sometime on the second day the tremors grew less distinct, and we were relieved to find nothing but rats and mosquitoes waiting for us when we reached Shoal.
There is a World Knot west of the Cloudspine and The Head insists that the enemy has learned to travel through the Knots. If we don't destroy this portal we might hold the mountains only to be outflanked by forces emerging from the Knot behind us.
We're up here in the mountains to stop The Deceiver from crossing into the west before winter closes the high passes. Its already started to snow pretty hard, so we shouldn't have to be here longer than a few more days.
But not all of the enemy retired ahead of the snow. For the last two hours we've watched a column of a hundred soulless, separated from their masters and obviously lost, wandering the canyons below. The dwarves are running about like delirious children. It should be a spectacular ambush.
It all started when The Nine learned that Alric had been captured by The Deceiver, and his army decimated. I'm not certain how they figured this out, but I'll bet The Head told them (and this was back when the Head could do no wrong).
At the behest of the Nine, our officers chose five champions from among the Legion. They were carried over the mountains by balloon and dropped at night in the rough desert twenty miles from The Deceiver's camp.
Their instructions were to rescue Alric by any means available, and to return him to the west. I believe that The Nine were suspicious of the circumstances surrounding Alric's capture, and wished to discover why The Head had sent him over the mountains.
Alric was interrogated by Balor during his captivity, and he learned by chance that Balor had bound each of The Fallen to himself, to ensure their obedience to his will. The Fallen draw their power through these links, and were Balor to be killed they would all be powerless. The armies of the Dark would collapse.
Alric babbled about a suit of armor so powerful that its wearer was invulnerable to attack and tireless in battle. He claimed that it was buried somewhere in the eastern desert, and that he had been sent by The Head to retrieve it.
They say Alric talked about The Head often, ridiculing The Nine's belief that it was one of the avatara of Connacht. Connacht was the great hero of the Wind Age, who drove the evil Moagim from the earth, and The Head claims to have been one of Connacht's closest advisors during this time.
Once Alric even spoke of The Head's defeat by Balor, where it lost its body. But I've begun to wonder how one of the avatara of the Wind Age outlived Connacht himself by hundreds of years, to fight Balor in a battle long before the West had even heard of The Fallen Lords.
The old stories all tell that when Balor freed The Watcher from his prison under the Cloudspine, one arm was left trapped in his prison of solid rock. Bound by a powerful confinement dream, it should have remained there forever. But it didn't.
We're a hundred miles from Bagrada and two days ahead of the rest of the Legion today, outside a town called Silvermines, looking for The Watcher's arm.
But none of this concerns us. What remains of the Silvermines garrison is less than ten minutes behind us now, determined to claim the arm. We are all too exhausted to continue running, and our scouts have chosen a hill up ahead where we can make a stand.
The Watcher drove his army without rest through the fleeing remnants of Rabican's forces and into Seven Gates. We are there now, inside the pass, where he then clashed with The Deceiver on his way east. The bodies of the undead are everywhere, melted and broken. It seems inconceivable that anything could have survived.
I don't know why he attacked The Deceiver, unless somehow he found out what was going on in Silvermines. One of the veterans said that these two had it out after the battle for Tyr, twelve years ago, and that The Watcher barely survived. I have a feeling the real reasons for what happened today go back even farther than that.
Whatever the case, while the battle raged only a few miles away and we thought The Watcher was coming for us next, I was glad nobody had asked me to carry his damned arm.
It looks like the volcano will keep Seven Gates open through the winter, so Maeldun is sending out patrols to retake the pass. The Legion's growing fame seems to draw danger like a bright candle attracts moths, and if any of the enemy survived the floods and fighting I'm sure we'll be the ones to find them.
The Legion is here alone, camped on the edge of Forest Heart and dangerously far into the territory of the enemy. Two of the Nine are with us, Cu Roi and Murgen, trying to make contact with the forest giants who live in this place, to beg their help against the Dark.
I do not understand what has happened.
Falling back before two myrmidons in Forest Heart, I was enveloped by a greenish haze which tore me from the earth. Now I find myself here, in a vast underground cavern with many of my comrades. We have been unable to find any way to the surface.
Murgen believes us to be trapped inside the Tain, a relic forged by the Smiths of Muirthemne during the Wind Age. Soon after its construction, the Tain was taken from Muirthemne by raiding barbarians from the south, and believed to be lost forever.
But they say that the darkest artifacts have the ability to bend men to their will. . .
Murgen believes that we are close to finding a backdoor. A secret exit from the Tain added by its creators so they could escape the thing if it were ever used against them. It will be hidden, of course, and almost certainly protected by traps, but it is our only chance of escape.
These caves are so vast that we've been able to locate less than fifty of the four thousand men we suspect are imprisoned with us. Murgen hopes that he can release the others after we have escaped, by destroying the Tain at the exit.
Messengers reached us today saying that Maeldun has lost Bagrada and that The Deceiver crossed the mountains at the Stair of Grief. Worst of all, what's left of the Nine had it out with The Head, which had apparently been double-crossing them ever since they pulled it out of the ground last summer.
Something like a civil war erupted back west, too, as thousands of our own men unexpectedly rose to defend The Head. Two of The Nine were killed, which makes them something like The Three now, if you also subtract Murgen and Cu Roi, who did not escape the destruction of the Tain, and the others who have died this year.
This far east, the dwarves with us are closer to their occupied homelands than any of their race has been in fifty years. Not expecting to return, many of them have decided to give up their lives rather than abandon their country once again to the Ghols who have overrun it.
Led by their pathfinder, Balin, the dwarves landed in the midst of a sea of Ghols and laid waste to them with grenades and satchel charges. But the enemy boiled like ants from their burrows in the mountain, and each one that was killed seemed to be replaced by two others.
Yet at last the attacks ceased, and the dwarves found themselves masters of the bloody patch of ground where they had taken their stand. Bodies and pieces of bodies lay everywhere.
A swift council followed their unexpected victory, and the survivors resolved to locate the Ghol's ancestral stone godhead and blast it to fragments. The Ghols have worshipped this enormous piece of unworked stone since the birth of their race, rolling its hundred tons wherever their migrations have taken them.
The continued presence of the Ghol's idol at Myrgard is a blasphemy, and to destroy it would be to spit in the face of their entire race.
"...turning the godhead of the ghols into a monument to Balin's victory. Nothing else has done more to sustain the mutual hatred since the ghols raided the crypt at Myrgard for 'victuals'."
Back in Forest Heart, Alric convinced our officers that the west was lost. That our small force could contribute nothing to the hopeless battles that would soon be fought around Madrigal, Willow and Tandem. These cities would fall, he said, and all their people would die, whether we sacrificed ourselves or not.
Then he told us what we could do instead.
Alric was interrogated by Balor during his captivity, and he learned by chance that Balor had bound each of The Fallen to himself, to ensure their obedience to his will. The Fallen draw their power through these links, and were Balor to be killed they would all be powerless. The armies of the Dark would collapse.
So Balor must fall. But today we are only at the edge of the Dire Marsh, nearly five hundred miles from his fortress, with The Watcher waiting in ambush ahead and Soulblighter shadowing us from behind. We have a long road before us.
The Legion has reached the Gjol, the poisoned river which feeds the Dire Marsh. Soulblighter has been continuously engaging our rearguard for the last two days. Between this and The Watcher's many ambushes along the way, it seems as if the two Fallen are racing to see which can destroy us first.
The Legion has reached the Gjol, the poisoned river which feeds the Dire Marsh. Soulblighter has been continuously engaging our rearguard for the last two days. Between this and The Watcher's many ambushes along the way, it seems as if the two Fallen are racing to see which can destroy us first.
We will cross the river at midnight, but leave a number of men in ambush for Soulblighter when he tries to follow. Alric intends to hit The Watcher while Soulblighter is delayed, and then flee north before either can force a decisive battle.
After weeks of shadowing us, Soulblighter's army vanished after the battle on the Gjol. He's certain to show up again soon, but meanwhile its given us a welcome rest from fighting.
We held Soulblighter at the Gjol long enough to let Alric spring his trap on The Watcher. Turned out I was right about those arrows: Alric had been working on them since we entered the marsh two weeks ago, and they were tipped with fragments of bone from The Watcher's arm.
I sure wouldn't have wanted to get stuck with one, but apparently they turned The Watcher into stone, leaving him paralyzed and helpless.
But he didn't die. Thirty berserks chosen to accompany the archers tore through the enemy and piled the bodies of the dead at The Watcher's feet, but all were killed before they could deliver the final blow.
Rather than leave such a dangerous enemy behind us to be rescued, a hundred men have volunteered to return and smash him to fragments before help can arrive.
Alric has been busy again, hardly sleeping I'm told, planning for the coming battle. A single berserk reached us yesterday, after having come all the way over the mountains from the city of Willow, fourteen hundred miles away. He delivered to Alric a single package the size of a man's fist, wrapped in rags, and refuses to talk with anyone about events in the west.
A small group of us are going into the city ahead of the main force tomorrow, to secure a bridge which Alric fears the enemy would destroy if we attacked in force. Once it has been secured, the Legion will follow.
Before he left, Alric told us that Madrigal had fallen.
In four hours, just after sunrise, the twenty-two hundred survivors of the Legion will attack Balor's fortress. Those men will surely die. There are perhaps half a million of the enemy between here and the stronghold.
Alric left at dusk, alone. The old maps, he says, all show a World Knot in Rhi'anon, though it has never been used in our time. He intends to find it and bring through a hundred picked men to a point he believes will be almost on top of the fortress. From there we go after Balor.
[ . . . ]
Before he left, Alric told us that Madrigal had fallen.
Alric's plan is a mad one.
One of the many strange things we found while trapped inside the Tain was the shredded battle standard of that long dead race of evil creatures called the Myrkridia.
[ . . . ]
Alric intends to approach within a hundred yards of the fortress, and raise the Myrkridian standard. Because of Balor's old enmity toward the Myrkridia, Alric is certain that this will so enrage Balor that he will come to deal with us himself.
As Balor approached, Alric drew from his robe one of the five Eblis Stones, and for a few moments it made him an equal of Balor.
"...he drew from his robe one of the five Eblis Stones, and for a few moments it made him an equal of Balor. The rest of the Legion was sacrificed... to give us time to take Balor's head."
"Balor has been killed before," Alric told us after we raised the Myrkridian standard, "and each time it has only made him more powerful. Our best hope is to cut off his head, and hurl it into the Great Devoid. Only in this way will the world be rid of him forever."
"...failing to recover the head of Balor at the Great Devoid, Soulblighter fled to the east into the Untamed Lands... back to the hidden temple where he first studied the black arts..."
Twelve Motion Jeweled Skull says he was last here sixty years ago, fighting alongside the likes of Durak and Turgeis with Burning Steel. They caught The Deceiver and the remnants of his army in this very defile and here destroyed them.
"Within a year of Balor's defeat, the dwarves had reclaimed Myrgard and its provinces. Most dwarves chose to return to their homeland and rebuild, but some built new lives in the West."
" ... returning home after the defeat of the Fallen Lords, the men of the North found their farms and villages virtually untouched by the Dark... a testament to the mettle of their homeguard."
"When asked of his advice on how many men should be trained in the use of the bow og'Un remarked, 'One in twenty from each town. Go there, these men will make themselves known.'"
The Deceiver is deranged, of this I am absolutely convinced. He has brought us here, to The Twelve Duns, closer to the Trow demesne than any sane man has dared in two generations. We are a mere four hours march from the lost city of Rhi'ornin.
"...when Soulblighter confronted the Trow, demanding their continued servitude, they replied 'Set iron to rest and choose you one from our number. Ask of his name and what he owes you.'"
"...her spirit disconnected from her body, set adrift on the ether... gathered up by Soulblighter and... made corporeal with the terrible power of Tramist's Mirror."
It was only yesterday that we entered the town of Tallow seeking rest after a month spent patrolling the southern regions of the Wild River. But our respite was cut short when the mayor beseeched us to investigate reports of grave robbing around the villages just north of Forest Heart.
It was only yesterday that we entered the town of Tallow seeking rest after a month spent patrolling the southern regions of the Wild River. But our respite was cut short when the mayor beseeched us to investigate reports of grave robbing around the villages just north of Forest Heart.
I can hardly believe what I have just witnessed. As we approached the village of Willow Creek, we saw what appeared to be a band of ruffians terrorizing the peasantry. If only it had been so. We rushed to the fray and were able to save a handful of people from the wretched claws of the walking dead.
One man said he was tending his livestock when he saw the [Ghasts] spill out from an overgrown trail that leads to an ancient nearby cemetery. Another villager, a small girl not yet old enough for the fields, said that she had seen brigands take her father and a few others in the direction of that trail.
Cruniac immediately sent scouts to scour the area near the trail for the missing villagers. They returned just before sundown to tell us there were some men holding captives at the cemetery. Upon hearing the news, the survivors begged us to help free their kinsmen.
. . . Rurik, one of the village leaders, demanded to be taken to see the mayor of Tallow. When questioned, he offered us little, save that he had important information about the recent grave robberies. Rurik is well respected by the townspeople, so Cruniac chose not to press him further for information.
The master of this castle is Baron Kildaer. We were joined at Tallow by reinforcements to attack the Baron's stronghold and put an end to his unwholesome trade in human remains.
[ . . . ]
We watched in helpless silence as a massive army of Thrall, ten abreast and a hundred deep, marched out of the main gate heading south. Cruniac fears their destination is Tallow and has sent a runner to warn the town.
The guard told us that a few years ago the Baron had several secret passages constructed so that he could make a quick escape if his safety was ever compromised. Cruniac has sent in a small group of men to hunt down the baron. He has positioned men at the main entrance to the keep in case the Baron manages to get past them. If the Baron tries to leave through this entrance he will be killed where he stands. Should he make it to one of the secret exits though, I doubt we would be able to find him in this wild land.
"Leave it for the torches, lads, and make haste for Gonen!"
Cruniac's last words were of the bravery of the color guard, who had given their lives trying to save him even as Soulblighter had delivered the killing blow.
[ . . . ]
All of us agree we must reach Madrigal and King Alric soon. But it would take months to get to Madrigal on foot. Garrick believes there is a World Knot directly west of us on the other side of the Cloudspine. Although it was destroyed during the Great War, the Dwarves seem confident they will be able to repair it. This I will have to see for myself.
As we were breaking camp, Garrick handed me a journal he had recovered from Cruniac's belongings. The commander must have taken it from one of the Baron's libraries.
What significance it may have had to Cruniac I do not know, other than it appears to have been written by a man who served in the Legion during the Great War.
As soon as Garrick was done, King Alric ordered the Seventh Legion through the World Knot to Scales. They have been instructed to seek out Soulblighter's army and destroy it now, before it grows any larger.
[ . . . ]
King Alric says we must travel through the World Knot to Covenant and retrieve the Total Codex from the newly rebuilt library. He says that with the Codex we may be able to find The Summoner before Soulblighter can.
Today [Alric] sent what is left of our army north to the city of Tandem. Their instructions were to gather as many able bodied men as they could along the way and wait for him in Tandem.
King Alric is staying in Madrigal with a mere handful of men in order to make sure that no one is left behind. Only then will he withdraw from the city.
Our deepest fears have been realized. Soulblighter has found The Summoner and through him has unleashed the Myrkridia on the world. They are nightmare made flesh. Even men hardened by combat cowered in miserable terror at first sight of them.
We suffered appalling losses getting his majesty safely onboard the Vigilance. Not a single man from the outer guard made it to the ship.
We made haste toward Tandem, our rallying point. Tandem is the cornerstone of the free cities of the North, and the key to Tandem is White Falls. So we will sail up the Meander and secure the fortress there.
The King has decided to fight fire with fire. He seeks Myrdred, an avatara of the Wolf Age whom Balor renamed "The Deceiver" after bending him to his will. Although The Deceiver fought alongside Balor during the last war, he held no great love for the rest of The Fallen, nearly being killed by The Watcher in a legendary battle at Seven Gates.
We have decided to go through the Ermine, the homeland of our fir'Bolg allies. Though the forest seems to be a continuous thicket, we have made good time.
The Tain was supposed to be the final resting place of the Myrkridia, but The Summoner has been inside the shattered artifact for five months now, slowly resurrecting their entire race. To think of it makes me shudder, and even now the Myrkridia spread across the Province like fire across a dry field, leaving death and blackened ruins in their wake. We must stop him now.
Even worse, we are not alone. Our scouts report seeing terrifying shapes lurking about, masked by the foul weather.
Today the Dramus River is frozen solid, but back then it was a muddy torrent of melted snow and ice brought on by the eruption of Tharsis. The Deceiver was plunged into the river and swept far downstream, his scepter sinking to the bottom.
As soon as Twelve Motion Jeweled Skull pried The Deceiver's scepter from the Dramus' icy clutches, we fled the Stair of Grief and headed north in search of the man himself.
The Deceiver claims to be held in high regard by the Trow as a being of "furor poeticus". He has told us of their battles against the Myrkridia and believes he can win the Trow to our cause.
Apparently the Trow are not convinced that our race is worth fighting for, but they have agreed to do battle with Soulblighter for one year if we can defeat them in a game of their devising. The Trow have placed six flags on the field and, if we can control the majority at the end of a period of time that they deem fair, they will assist us. To wit, we shall send forth our best warriors to do battle with the Trow.
So the King has decided on a new course of action. The Legion must capture Muirthemne, though for what purpose we cannot tell, for the city holds no strategic benefits. King Alric himself plans to be here within the week, and we must capture the city before he arrives.
Our scouts have returned from the city proper bearing grim news. The shade Herod and a great number of fetch and Myrkridia are occupying the old armory, just inside the city walls.
Tomorrow we lay siege to Muirthemne with the aid of the Trow and a team of Dwarven Mortars. Breaching the massive wall that protects the old armory is foremost on our list of objectives. While that curtain stands, our infantry is but grist for the mill.
King Alric believes [The Ibis Crown] was secreted away in the catacombs below the Mausoleum of the Cath Bruig. Knowing that entering the haunted crypt is tantamount to a death sentence, the King has called for volunteers.
After the Ibis Crown was recovered from the ancient tomb below Muirthemne, a ceremony was held to coronate Alric as the new Emperor of the Cath Bruig Empire. The journeymen, after a hundred years of self-imposed penance for being absent during the fall of the city, threw down the gold tiles that hung around their necks and swore fealty to the new Emperor.
The journeymen were no more; the Heron Guard were reborn.
Hours later Muirthemne was overrun by Myrkridia and the Heron Guard were given their chance at redemption.
We have been looking for almost a week now without luck. There are those among us who feel that we are wasting precious time and manpower - that it will never be found. The Deceiver has no such doubts. He says he can feel it calling to him.
King Alric has sent us with The Deceiver to find a piece of the shattered Tain. Once found, The Deceiver will lead us through its broken passages to find The Summoner and cut off Soulblighter's access to the Myrkridia.
We have been looking for almost a week now without luck. There are those among us who feel that we are wasting precious time and manpower - that it will never be found. The Deceiver has no such doubts. He says he can feel it calling to him.
The Deceiver has brought us here to kill The Summoner. The ruin he will bring about if allowed to remain alive is unconscionable. This alone dictates that he must die.
The Deceiver dropped us in the middle of Soulblighter's camp, hoping to attack him by surprise. King Alric said nothing of a sneak attack before we left Muirthemne - it is obvious The Deceiver was acting on his own. We were captured instantly and thrown into rude cells with other prisoners from some unsung battle in the west. The Deceiver was caught in the claw of some elemental beast commanded by Soulblighter, but not before he had struck down more than a dozen of the enemy with his magic.
[ . . . ]
I have yet to mention our jailor. It is the devil Phelot, the shade who decimated Avon's Grove during the Great War. It is a wonder he has not yet sought vengeance upon us, as he was sorely injured by The Deceiver upon our arrival.
We are free but not out of danger. In the confusion of the prison break we stumbled upon some sort of assembly area. There are veritable mountains of satchel charges, sagging under their own weight, presumably brought down from Stoneheim. The putrid carcasses of wights, harvested for their baneful polyps and tumors, are strewn everywhere. Cleavers, axes and twisted bits of razor sharp metal fill barrel after barrel and litter the ground. I shudder to think of the destruction Soulblighter must have in mind.
But now that destruction will be wrought on his own army.
The scouts told us that Alric and nearly three thousand men from the Legion have come from Muirthemne to face Soulblighter. Unfortunately, they were met by Shiver and her army in the valley about two hours downstream from the dam. If the dam were destroyed, the resulting deluge would kill everything in its path for miles.
The whole of the Legion has been steeling itself for this - the final confrontation with Soulblighter. He is cornered and desperate, making the fight that much more terrible. We engaged his main force two days ago and have been pushing it back toward the Cloudspine ever since. Our casualties number nearly half of our force, but it is certain that we have inflicted far greater damage than we received.
Alric was able to repel Shiver's attack and push her all the way to the broken lands south of Silvermines, but there was never an opportunity to strike at her directly. We will resolve that within hours.
The Deceiver has been screaming for Shiver's blood all day. Alric has chosen five men of unwavering courage to accompany The Deceiver into the labyrinth of ravines where she hides. There they will hunt her down and destroy her.
The whole of the Legion has been steeling itself for this - the final confrontation with Soulblighter. He is cornered and desperate, making the fight that much more terrible. We engaged his main force two days ago and have been pushing it back toward the Cloudspine ever since. Our casualties number nearly half of our force, but it is certain that we have inflicted far greater damage than we received.
We have Soulblighter's army caught between the Cloudspine, the Ire River, and Tharsis - the legendary forge of the Trow. With The Deceiver in possession of part of his being, Soulblighter no longer has the ability to escape.
Soulblighter has done the unthinkable. With his army scattered in disarray, he fled up through the Eye of Tharsis and into the very bowels of the earth. I can hardly blame him. The sight of Alric hacking his way through the enemy, Balmung flashing in his hand, caused many of our own men to stand aside in awe.
If it were anyone other than Soulblighter, I am sure we would just wait outside the volcano until they had been roasted alive or had succumbed to the poisonous vapors. Unfortunately, he has survived worse, and we must follow him.
The Fallen Lords are dead and the Dark has fled the land. Now we return to the difficult task of rebuilding. It will take many years to restore our cities and recover our farmlands and this time, we will remain vigilant.
I have chosen to follow the Emperor and his Heron Guard back to Muirthemne - there is nothing left for me in Strand, the place of my birth.
I have become fast friends with Nine Skull Crocodile, the man who has healed the many wounds I received during the assault on Tharsis. He is ancient, even by Heron standards, and speaking with him has given me some insight into what has happened to our world.
Trahern dealt a terrible blow to Fulsom, taking his left arm and piling three score dead at his feet before the bandit gang finally broke into full route never to be heard from again...
"Though Gwyon and his brothers all died they had succeeded in breaking the momentum of the Ghols' charge... each scattering corpses until a step could not be taken without treading on one..."
It is said that an unscrupulous group of men made a deal with an equally unscrupulous group of Dwarves in order to corner the bullet-riddled meat market.
Albrecht, the King of the Dwarves, having been presented with the latest invention of the famed Wehrfaktorie, is said to have replied "Such a thing would make war too terrible to wage."
A berserk at Tandem, having been told of the extraordinary taste of roast pig, is said to have replied 'and Ghol may taste like haggis, but I will never know, as they are filthy beasts.'
"... but it was ki'Angsi alone that stood up to the challenge and strung the giant's bow; the great yew shaft that no two other men could bend."
" ... though the dwarves before Myrgard were unshaken by the wights opposite them, each knew the slow, bleeding death-fever which awaited those who survived the battle."
Imprisoned by Connacht during the Wind Age, The Watcher only escaped by tearing off his left arm at the elbow, like a wolf chewing through his leg to escape a snare.
The old stories all tell that when Balor freed The Watcher from his prison under the Cloudspine, one arm was left trapped in his prison of solid rock. Bound by a powerful confinement dream, it should have remained there forever. But it didn't.
"' ... or we will fell your people like a pine forest.' One Ghol asked why he had singled out pines. 'Once cut, pines never regrow.' spoke the Trow emissary, to which the Ghols had no answer save silence."
"Bahl'al descended to the flooded, rusting halls of Si'anwon and under the sea there took no breath for nine days, searching the ruined palaces and temples of the Trow for the dream of unlife."
Legend states that whoever wears the Ibis Crown has at his disposal truly staggering power. Such was the artifact's power that Ceiscoran, at fantastic expense, commissioned eleven ordinary copies of the thing to be made in order to make theft of the true crown more difficult. When Muirthemne fell to the Fallen Lords, the crown was nowhere to be found.
"Ah, Sinis! I thought you died when Mazzarin collapsed the Shrine of Nyx upon you."
Once Alric even spoke of The Head's defeat by Balor, where it lost its body...