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« on: April 12, 2013, 03:48:53 PM »
Catastrophe: 10 points
Many years had passed since the Great Purge of the Inquisition, since the Heretics of the Ordos were driven en masse from the lands of Foxkind by the heroic soldiers of Cadia and their beloved Emperor. Then one day, something happened that was equally unthinkable and inevitable. The earth trembled at its very foundations and the sky was torn asunder as the cities of Man crashed to the ground, victims of their own arrogance and heresy. Storms of ruinous energy raged day and night, scouring the mountains that once served as a bulwark between their homes and the hellscape to the south.
Even as the storms raged, black banners flew on the horizon. Banners bearing a single unblinking eye lined with eight jagged arrows stretching out towards each point of the compass, painted in blood. The Heretics of Mordor had returned, twisted and driven mad by their position in the center of Man's cataclysmic fall, brought through the destructive storms by powerful magics unlike anyone had seen before. With the mountains no longer blocking their path, they marched directly on Luminurbis, seeking to strike down the heart of the Empire and destroy the Aeronomican, the last great force keeping the demons at bay.
The armies of Foxkind respond in force. The 1st Ironworks Imperial Regiment is the first to meet the heretical armies and their demonic cohorts. Rank upon rank of loyal soldiers stretch out across the rolling hills, cuirasses and helmets of the finest steel glinting in the sun as they fire volleys of disciplined fire into the enemy. But their line cannot hold, for every demon or heretic they kill is replaced by ten more. Little by little the 1st Ironworks looses ground, bounding back while their brothers in arms provide covering fire. Knowing that their calculated retreat can only buy them a little time, messengers are dispatched to the other cities in all haste.
Blackwell is the first to respond, their airship fleet soaring across the hills to aid the retreating soldiers of Ironworks with fire from the sky. The thundering cannons of the 1st Airship Fleet greatly slow the demonic tide, buying precious time for the 1st Ironworks' engineers to cross the valley in E6 and entrench themselves along it. Men and materials flow to the hastily constructed fortifications, both from the nearby city of Luminurbus and cargo airships from Blackwell. For six days and six nights the 1st Ironworks holds the line with the support of the 1st Airship Fleet, the Emperor personally leading the defense effort. On the seventh day, the 1st Cadian Imperial Regiment arrives from the West to reinforce the beleaguered garrison. Meanwhile, the Porttown City Watch diverts troops and supplies to Luminurbis, to act as a final line of defense.
At first the line holds, the heretics unable to cross the valley without being cut down by musket and cannon from above. But then something dark and terrible happened. A monolithic demon had made its way to the front lines, eldritch energies shielding it from fire and lancing out to incinerate the fortifications. Saul, the Scourge of Man, had come to bring about the ultimate dominion of the demonic forces.
“Faithful... Enlightened... Ambitious... Brethren. In but a few decades, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Kaos that will be made legend. Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me when I walked the halls of Adamis, it was a messenger of Kaos who showed me the true path to freedom from our pathetic gods. And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes?
It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery. This WORLD IS MINDLESS! In mere hours, millions will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and decietful! ALL of them!
They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Kaos may revel in their bloodshed!
And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skulls Throne! LET THE WORLD BURN!"
Hearing this the Emperor stepped forward, brandishing his fiery sword and clad in his golden armor,
“Such are the ways of demons, to lie and deceive us! Destroying it is the only way to avoid its influences! Stand with me loyal soldiers, strike down the demons in the name of all Foxkind!”
The Emperor charged the demon head on, battling its dark magics with the holy light of His will and the fiery steel of his sword. For three days and three nights they fought while the battle raged around them, eldritch plasma and holy light lancing through the sky. The light of the distant Aeronomican shone as bright as the sun as the Emperor's fury surged. At last the Emperor's sword cleaved Saul from shoulder to thigh, and he raised it again to finish off the wounded demon lord.
Suddenly a bolt of eldritch magic struck his chest, piercing his armor through front and back. As the wounded Emperor fell to his knees, his powerful mind reached out to the source of the spell, Lore Bostic, who had hidden himself and his followers among the demonic horde. With a mighty and final act of will the Emperor scoured Bostic's very soul from existence, erasing every trace of it from the immaterium. The evil mage's body collapsed to the ground as a lifeless husk.
But the Emperor fell as well, mortally wounded and unable to stand. Without their Emperor, the armies of Foxkind would be hard pressed to defeat even a wounded Saul, the seemingly endless horde of demons behind him aside. Nonetheless, they were overcome with such righteous wrath that they drove the demons completely out of the valley, such was the fury of the fire they unleashed on their enemies. The line would hold, but at what cost? And what of the lands to the east of the valley, where the Batosian city sits undefended?
In the distance the light of the Aeronomican grew dim, hanging by a thread.
Result: Lore Bostic killed, Emperor and Saul wounded.
Points spent: 10
Points left: 5
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