Difference between revisions of "Qwixalted/Sunrise of the River Kingdoms"

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((Part A): Enemy at the Gates)
((Part B): Riders on the Hill)
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Thus they crested the summit of a hill that oversaw the Sunrise Prince's Citadel, and saw for themselves the massive army stretched out across the plain, crawling like colourful ants across the once-green and fertile plain, facing off the citadel's walls. It seemed they were perhaps too late. Then again, perhaps not... surely the citadel would have surrendered had Mithric been slain. He must still be alive...
 
Thus they crested the summit of a hill that oversaw the Sunrise Prince's Citadel, and saw for themselves the massive army stretched out across the plain, crawling like colourful ants across the once-green and fertile plain, facing off the citadel's walls. It seemed they were perhaps too late. Then again, perhaps not... surely the citadel would have surrendered had Mithric been slain. He must still be alive...
 +
 +
Swinging down from his mount, Copper Jaguar gazed upon at the assembled forces of Lord Johr Seftarian.
 +
 +
Momentarily, the Zenith’s view was superseded by a fleeting recollection of another war, a war against the architects of Creation themselves.  Furtive, staccato images played themselves across his field of vision – legions of loyal Terrestrial Exalted clad in jade arrayed in battle formation against the coming onslaught by the warriors of the Primordials and their daevas. His memory-self glanced at his truest companion, Arundel, whose moonsilver armor flowed and reshaped itself with mercurial grace as he adopted his war form. A feral grin stretched across the Lunar’s lupine face…
 +
 +
Copper Jaguar shook himself free of these memories, mindful of how this memory contrasted sharply with the present. This was no grand conflict.  There was no noble cause for which these assembled men would shed their blood.  They would fight and die for a lie, deceived by the Immaculate Faith and by an old man fearing the loss of his power.
 +
 +
The Seftarian king had united many in the Hundred Kingdoms under his banner, many lords who feared above all other things the might of the Anathema.  For the Lord Mithric had proved himself to be one of the Forsaken, and many had heard tales of the devastation wrought by the Bull of the North.
 +
 +
For months, Copper Jaguar had travelled South in search of those whom he had once called brothers.  Perhaps he had finally found one…
 +
 +
A furtive movement caught his attention, a subtle swaying of branch and limb which the native Ardelethian knew to be unnatural.  Arclight blazed red in the dying light as he pulled his daiklave from its sheath. His caste mark glimmered as Copper Jaguar ascended the tree with a balance and lightness of foot well beyond that of a mortal.
 +
 +
‘A scout, perhaps?  Or a sentry?’ he wondered to himself.
 +
 +
Experience told him otherwise.  This person had wanted to be found.
  
 
== (United) ==
 
== (United) ==
  
 
(TBA)
 
(TBA)

Revision as of 22:23, 22 December 2010

Dramatis Personae

(TBA)

Prologue

The Sunrise Prince has just suffered a military defeat at the hands of an Outcaste Dragon-Blooded king, Johr Seftarian -- although unrivalled on the battlefield, Mithric was unable to match the Earth Aspect king's stratagems, and he has been forced to retreat to his inner keep.

The Seftarian rulers are old rivals and enemies of the kings of Aelysia. The Seftarians have generally had the ascendency in the local region, having a touch of the Dragons in their bloodline; as a result, approximately every generation or so, they produces a Dragon-Blooded, who then rises to the kingship (usually over the corpses of his or her more ambitious cousins).

The current Seftarian king, Johr, has ruled Seftaria for the last hundred years or so. He is an old man, by Dragon-Blooded standards, his Second Breath having come late in life, but he is still vital and active, cunning and intelligence, and he is all the more dangerous and ruthless for his experience. Under his rule, Seftaria has grown to swallow several minor neighboring kingdoms, and bully a number of others into vassalhood.

Aelysia was the strongest kingdom in the region to oppose him -- Mithric's predecessor established a strong alliance of other concerned kingdoms to hold Seftaria in check. This alliance survived Mithric's predessor's death, but was shattered when the young ruler took the Second Breath as a Sun-Chosen -- suddenly, Aelysia found itself alone as cultural wariness and Immaculate propaganda played their role in isolating the Anathema.

Johr is not a man who has risen to where he is by missing such opportunities.

Using Immaculate propaganda as a pre-text to form a casus belli, he declared war, framing the conflict as a "liberation" of the people of Aelysia from the oppression of the demonic Anathema. Assembling a mighty host of his personal army and his allies, he invaded.

Alone, the army of Aelysia was outnumbered by twenty to one. But still the Sunrise Prince might have triumphed, were it not for two factors.

First, let it be admitted, Johr Seftarian is a better general than the younger, less experienced Sunrise Prince is (at least, for now...): where a fool may have used his greater strength without subtlety, Johr has not wasted finesse, and has not merely outpowered Mithric, but outwitted and outflanked him.

Secondly, the Seftarian forces were reinforced by a number of Realm Dynasts. Although the Realm could not send any forces to help the Seftarians directly -- at least, not without risking war with Lookshy -- a number of "volunteers" have bolstered the Seftarian ranks, providing not only greater quantity, but also a qualitative edge that no army in the Hundred Kingdoms yet possesses.

Thus, the Sunrise Prince was overwhelmed: his army defended a bridge over one of the great tributaries that eventually lead into the Yellow River, the main gateway into his kingdom. The fighting was tough and bloody, the Sunrise Prince accounting for himself a hundredfold, but eventually he was exhausted and his army smashed, brushed aside, routed. The Sunrise Prince has been forced to retreat to his citadel as the Seftarian forces sweep into his lands, already proclaiming victory as they begin to build the siege engines that will overwhelm the citadel's walls.

The times are desperate. Defeat would spell the destruction of Aelysia and death for the Sunrise Prince, but fleeing is unthinkable.

The one, ironic, source of solace is the news that matters could have been worse: Lookshy's stance towards the conflict remains neutral, hostile to the Realm's involvement with the Seftarians. As such, their soldiers have remained at home and their warmachines in storage. Had the Seftarians been given access to those, they would have made short work of the citadel walls indeed...

Chapter 1

(Part A): Enemy at the Gates

The defeated troops filed through the drawbridge, bloodied, heads bowed in shame: the last of the outriders, light horsemen, hooves clopping unevenly across the wooden drawbridge. Maybe a dozen horsemen left out of a proud colmun of a hundred.

Standing in his citadel's tallest observation tower, Mithric surveyed his foe's troops, determined gaze staring into the distance as he watched the Seftarian army start to establish siegeworks in heavy artillery range. The cries of foremen leading sappers and engineers mixed with the hammering of mallets on wood and other sounds of an industry aimed at one sole purpose: to overthrow the walls that defended the last of free Aelysia.

He contemplated the reverse he had just suffered gloomily. He barely had enough of an army to hold his walls now, and he faced a horde the size of which hadn't been seen in the River Kingdoms since the last war against the Realm. His citadel had been well-built, in an oxbow that made the rushing river a natural moat on three sides of the castle; a canal had been dug in front of the fourth side, and the wall was thickest here. When the time came to storm the walls, if that time came, the main attack would surely fall here...

Turning to his council, the young Solar knew they needed options. They needed time. They needed troops. They needed supplies. They would need luck. They would need everything...

"Well, my friends..." said Mithric, opening the discussion. "What now?"

Posted by Chronicler


The Sunrise Prince sighed in near-resignation as he surveyed the vast Seftarian forces arrayed against him. The sheer number of troops preparing to lay siege against his last stronghold was a disheartening sight to behold. But he steadfastly held onto his courage. The Unconquered Sun had seen fit to grant him the gift of Exaltation, and he was ready to defend his kingdom with every ounce of power that he now had. I will make Johr pay dearly for every inch of ground that he dares to take, he vowed grimly.

The resolute Aelysian prince straightened up from where he had been leaning against the rough-hewn granite of a reinforced battlement. Resting a gloved hand atop the jeweled pommel of his orichalcum warblade, he turned to meet the hard-eyed stares of his advisors. "Our enemies are beginning to assemble their siege engines. Once their construction is complete, it will only be a matter of time before our walls fall to their onslaught." He glanced up at the sky's waning light. "I'm guessing that we will have at least one last night of respite before they strike. Make your peace and prepare yourselves. Come morning I shall lead our remaining soldiers in one final direct assault."

The fierce intensity of his determination was matched only by the incandescent brilliance of the sun-burst symbol on his forehead. "It is only fitting that I, the Sunrise Prince, make my defiant stand at dawn's first light," he announced fervently.

(Part B): Riders on the Hill

Word had reached the riders of the Aelysian army's defeat earlier that morning, after they had come ashore from the ferry across the Yellow River. They could only hope it wasn't too late and that the Sunrise Prince hadn't yet been slain: contradicting rumours flew like a disturbed hornet's nest on the subject, flying in the wake of gossip and hearsay, all the more enflamed by frightened refugees.

But the wise heads amongst them had decided that only one course of action was reasonably open: to ride to the Sunrise Prince's citadel and see for themselves. If Mithric was dead, well, at least they would know so for themselves. If he lived, he would have retreated there to be besieged; he would be all the more in dire need of their aid.

Thus they crested the summit of a hill that oversaw the Sunrise Prince's Citadel, and saw for themselves the massive army stretched out across the plain, crawling like colourful ants across the once-green and fertile plain, facing off the citadel's walls. It seemed they were perhaps too late. Then again, perhaps not... surely the citadel would have surrendered had Mithric been slain. He must still be alive...

Swinging down from his mount, Copper Jaguar gazed upon at the assembled forces of Lord Johr Seftarian.

Momentarily, the Zenith’s view was superseded by a fleeting recollection of another war, a war against the architects of Creation themselves. Furtive, staccato images played themselves across his field of vision – legions of loyal Terrestrial Exalted clad in jade arrayed in battle formation against the coming onslaught by the warriors of the Primordials and their daevas. His memory-self glanced at his truest companion, Arundel, whose moonsilver armor flowed and reshaped itself with mercurial grace as he adopted his war form. A feral grin stretched across the Lunar’s lupine face…

Copper Jaguar shook himself free of these memories, mindful of how this memory contrasted sharply with the present. This was no grand conflict. There was no noble cause for which these assembled men would shed their blood. They would fight and die for a lie, deceived by the Immaculate Faith and by an old man fearing the loss of his power.

The Seftarian king had united many in the Hundred Kingdoms under his banner, many lords who feared above all other things the might of the Anathema. For the Lord Mithric had proved himself to be one of the Forsaken, and many had heard tales of the devastation wrought by the Bull of the North.

For months, Copper Jaguar had travelled South in search of those whom he had once called brothers. Perhaps he had finally found one…

A furtive movement caught his attention, a subtle swaying of branch and limb which the native Ardelethian knew to be unnatural. Arclight blazed red in the dying light as he pulled his daiklave from its sheath. His caste mark glimmered as Copper Jaguar ascended the tree with a balance and lightness of foot well beyond that of a mortal.

‘A scout, perhaps? Or a sentry?’ he wondered to himself.

Experience told him otherwise. This person had wanted to be found.

(United)

(TBA)