History of the Land Between the Lands

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This is an ongoing journal of “the Land between the Lands”. Men and women will die, battles will be lost and won, but someone will continue our tale. And now Taos's last gift to Mittelmarch begins our tale.

In the beginning, there was darkness throughout the Land Between the Lands. The good races of the Land ruled the First Age, but in the Second Age they had been slain down to the last child, for the Orcish sorcerer Izg'bel had built his mighty fortress around the springhead of the River of Flame, and drawing upon its magical power, he reshaped the world in his image. For many years and centuries did he reign immortal from his iron throne, but in time the spirit of the Land itself revolted against him, destroying both throne and fortress in an earth-sundering cataclysm.

This cataclysm marked the beginning of the Third Age, although only the races of darkness recall it, and few among men care to know their history as I do. Amongst them, it was a time of unparalleled glory and power, and I truly believe that they will stop at nothing to bring it back. In recent days, I have come to sense, as elves are wont to do, that my time in this place grows short. Whether my end will come from death or passing to another place is beyond my ken, but I fear that much which has been learned will be lost with my passing, and so I scribe it here, as a history for those who may come after, lest they forget the great deeds of their forebears.

My studies lead me to believe that the time known amongst the dark races as the Third Age had lasted for almost a hundred years before the Arrival, as they call it, occurred. Late one night, one of the deep fogs that are prone to appear in the forests of this world became something else, a portal to another place and time, and the first humans this world had seen in a thousand years were ripped from their homeland and unceremoniously dropped in these Lands Between.

They had been a war party from the Clan of the Wolf, and their leader was Alric, son of Harland. Wisely perceiving the reason for this change in their condition, he declared on the spot that they were now a new clan, and would be called the Nebelleute, or the People of the Mists. In that very spot, the beginnings of a sturdy village sprang up, created by the honest labor of hearty and brave men and women, little suspecting as they did, that the forests were full of skulking creatures, who watched these newcomers with great interest.

In a very short time, more creatures from other worlds began to arrive. The half-elf Vallia (later Isen), and his dwarven companion Theodoric came to the village, now called Mittelmarch. The Frankish nobleman Duc Daemont D'Marques also came, bringing with him the tradition of history that I dearly keep in these dark times. Many others also, and their exploits are beyond the ken of these writings, for their deeds would fill volumes.

As these newcomers began to arrive and make permanent settlements in the Lands, another arrived as well, and he brought with him the secret of elven craftsmanship, knowledge which has served these lands well for many a year now, and for that we are eternally grateful to Andin Greystorm, for braving the perils of the journey to bring solace and aid.

In return for this assistance, Alric, now the war-chieftain of his people, took with him his chosen companions and followed Andin through the Black Door portal (the only portal in The Land that remains true in its location and destination) back to his world, where they were further trained in the art of fighting by experienced swordsmen and generals with decades of experience in the bloody art of war.

When they returned, flush with their victory in the brutal war of succession in which they had fought, they found that Duc Daemont had left, for reasons of his own, leaving little of his accumulated knowledge behind. While the Visigoths were dismayed at the loss of one they had viewed as a mystical man, they are a people of a practical mind, and continued about their business.

It would have continued this way indefinitely, had not I been cruelly ripped from my own world and brought here, for reasons I still do not understand. I will refrain from recording here my own personal history, as it is quite long, even among elves of a similar age to mine. Suffice it to say that soon after my arrival, I was ambushed by orcs in the woods, and only through perseverance and a great deal of luck did I stumble across the encampment of a group of warriors, girded for battle.

These men, notable among them being the Celtic warrior Dhugal of Fangorn, a forest far to the south, and the savage Norseman Oron the Wolf, tended to my wounds, and in the great battle that followed later, I did my utmost to acquit myself well.

It was this battle, against a powerful and terrible beholder, that first gave warning to the people of Mittelmarch that greater powers were at work against them. With the assistance of a great dragon, which for a time made its lair in the mountains to the north, the fell hand of Dhugal, also known as RavenHeart, brought about the death of the foul beholder.

Amongst the common folk, there was much rejoicing, but I was privy to the councils of those who led, and their hearts were darkened, even in victory. The last words of the beholder had been cryptic, but all agreed they were a dark omen. They bespoke a great power of evil to the north of the lands settled by men, and one who would soon become a great threat to the safety of all good-hearted people in the Lands.

Fortunately, it was at this time that the men of Mittelmarch and Fangorn learned of another group of humans, who lived far to the north of the Iron Mountains, and who had made a rough fortress to defend themselves against the frequent depredations of orcs and fouler beasts. They called themselves the Legion of the Dragoons, and were a rough band of mercenaries, led by a hulking giant of a man, known only by his title, Bishop. Perhaps whatever gods rule this place chose wisely when they brought them here, for the Northern Steppes are open and not suitable for defense, but these men have carved themselves a kingdom from the grasp of evil, and in these latter days, I am proud to count myself among the least of their number.

Let it not be thought that I besmirch the valor of the men of the south, however, for it was on them that the hammer fell. A great evil bestirred itself in the mountains, and the dead moved restlessy in their graves, for Cyrus the Necromancer, known as the Black-Cloak, had turned his baleful gaze towards the forests and rivers of the southlands. He gathered a host to his banner, and sent them forth to pillage and ruin the lands of the south. Though we were sorely outnumbered, we marched forth with what troops we could muster, and searched for advantageous terrain on which to give battle to Cyrus' minions. In the end, a rolling plain at the edge of the forest was chosen, so that we could disappear into the woods should the battle turn against us. The dawn was red that day, and though we bravely faced our enemies and routed them, the day was long and many brave swords were lost. In the style of my people, I have taken to calling that day “The Battle of Countless Spears,” for it was the style of the necromancer Cyrus Black-Cloak to outfit his legions of the undead with spears. Many noble deeds were performed that day, and many foul ones as well, but when the sun sank below the horizon, the men of the south made camp and celebrated their victory. It was not to last.

Over the next year, the minions of Cyrus would march ceaselessly forth from their lairs deep in the caverns of the Iron Mountains, and were an ever-present threat to the southlands. It was a time of blood and terrors in the night, when every man kept his sword sharp and close at hand, and the old spirit of hope in the Lands began to die, even as more new arrivals appeared every day. It was during this time that the men of Aethenu, largely Scotsmen, as they call themselves, appeared in the Northern Steppes, along with their entire fortress and a significant portion of their lands, all in one night. This sudden arrival of reinforcements, and the powerful position which they held, dismayed the necromancer, and he stretched his arm out against them, personally leading the entire array of his armies against them, hoping to catch them off guard. It was an act that was to be his undoing, for before the walls of the castle, he was caught and slain in single combat with Dhugal of the Fell Hand, after Lord Aidan Furey of Aethenu and his men personally held the shattered gates of their castle against a picked force of trolls brought to the field by the Black-Cloak. His forces were chased in disarray all the way back to their caverns, and the combined forces of men celebrated.

After this great victory at the Battle of the Shattered Gate, the situation in the Lands settled somewhat, and many new arrivals swelled the ranks, replacing those who had been lost. It was at this time that Zaron Red-Handed arrived, and the towering ogre, Nichtmar, joined our ranks. At the time, Alric had left in search of an encampment of men in the foothills of the Iron Mountains, and the leadership of Mittelmarch had fallen almost entirely upon my shoulders. Fortunately, it was a relatively peaceful time, the wall of the village was expanded, and the first beginnings of a road to connect us with the land of Fangorn were laid. In imitation of the castle of the Aethenric, two gates were built of wood and iron, one at the north and south of the village, and platforms run along the walls, to aid the defenders in times of need. In time, we have all come to be grateful for these additions to our defenses.

The death of Cyrus was not to be the end of men's woes, however, for it soon reached the ears of the orcish warlord Grish'nak, direct descendant of Izg'bel. His rage at the death of his servant was terrible to behold, and he swore a mighty oath that before twice the winter passed, he would slay every one of those who opposed him, and build his throne upon their mangled corpses. The forges of the Iron Mountains ran hot, as he outfitted the host of his people in iron and steel, and the black smoke that rose from the mountains was a terrible omen for men.

Just before the harvest time, the men of Mittelmarch were called to the defense of their allies to the south, the woodsmen of Crann-Meigall, and Grish'nak did not hesitate to take advantage of this opportunity. He sent forth his mightiest servants, the trolls, led by their leader Azul, to bring fire and ruin to the lands around the village. For many days, they laid siege to Mittelmarch, and were only driven off when the armies returned.

The land now rests in the grip of winter, the roads that we have built to connect us with the south are muddy and impassable, and the mountain passes that our allies to the north use to reach us are closed until the spring thaws. The campfires of Grish'nak's host are a bleak cloud on the horizon, and what is yet to come is hidden even from me, although Zaron and Nichtmar have pressed me often to read the omens, so that they may prepare and give what hope they can. These are dark times, but it is my hope that I shall die with honor on the day we meet Grish'nak in battle, and that another will take my place, so that the deeds of those who come after will be remembered, as I have strived to record those who have come before.

These were the writings of Taos of the Levanon, Historian, Architect, and Warrior.

Winters End Year 6, 3^rd Age, Nichtmar

A few weeks ago, Zaron, Taos, and other Mittelmarchers found a factory of orcish weapons. It was located on the southern face of the Iron Mountains. We attacked the orc workers and guards and seized a number of the weapon caches. We considered this a success, but Taos was not satisfied, he felt that there should've been more. He thought there had to be some sort of supply line, but didn't know how or where. There should've been some sort of torn up road from the weight of all the weapons being transported, yet we found none. Taos felt stealth was required to find this supply line and many weeks ago he left to search for it and still has not returned. This worries me. I feel that Grish'nak may be stronger than we know.

We must fight on, and that is exactly what we will do. A few months ago, Taos assembled a militia and began training them in the ways of war. The Defenders of Mittelmarch (as they are now called) have received a good, but incomplete, training. We've called upon Kinsman Oron of the Wolf, from the Kingdom of PentWyvern to come and continue the training Taos began.

I pray that we will be strong enough when the time comes.

Summer Year 6, 3^rd Age, Nichtmar

We have lost… 

Last night Mittelmarch's wooden borders were burned down by a surprise attack of Grish'nak's forces. I now walk the ashes that were once the walls of Mittelmarch. Burned and slashed bodies are strewn about and very little has been saved around the borders. I have failed in my attempt to prepare us, and I beg to Thee, help us to heal and help us to become stronger. The attack was precise, the goal wasn't to get through the walls it was just to destroy them. We are exposed, and it will be easy to penetrate our borders. We have defended one attack already since our walls have fallen, I am certain the worst is yet to come.

Fall Year 6, 3^rd Age, Nichtmar

The summer had been relatively quiet in the Lands Between, till Karn destroyed our walls here in Mittelmarch. It had been like the calm before the storm, citizens were un-easy as were the soldiers, we were off guard when they destroyed the walls. This morning we found one of the fallen gates with a message written in blood. It said, “Oktobrr”, it was a message from Grish'nak. There has been little communication with our allies in the North and South, I hope all is well, but I've sent word to them for aid, and I can only hope they make it in time. Right now we rally what fighters we have here in Mittelmarch.

There have also been talks of building a fortress of stone to defend against future enemies and to house the future King of the Lands. That is if we survive Grish'nak.

Spring Year 7, 3^rd Age, Helvaryn

After the disappearance of Nichtmar, I took it upon myself to keep up the history of this land, even though it is not my own, I feel it is my responsibility and duty. 

Grish’nak and forces crashed against the few Mittelmarch had, but Mittelmarch was not alone.  Lord Oron the Wolf from Pentwyvern came with soldiers and defeated Grish’nak’s forces.  Oron himself quartered Grish’nak and sent his remains in different paths beyond our own realm. 

Later, Nichtmar returned and Mittelmarch finished its stone keep and many new soldiers would join in its protection.  Dragonspire and Gate Reach would become our newest allies to the Land Between.  They celebrated with Olympics IV, another year of champions through the multi-realms would come and clash in non-mortal combat.  Truly a glorious site to see so much talent in one place…

At the moment Zaron is training our new recruits and preparing them for future threats.  We are at a time of peace it would seem, but presumably only for the moment.

Spring Year 7, 3^rd Age, Nichtmar of Mittelmarch

The Battle for K’nar’s Remains

The morning wept upon us as we prepared ourselves for a fight.  Karn’s forces crashed against us with great strength and fought there way through the main gate of Mittelmarch.  With much of the Mittelmarch Guard still in training, it was left to the Dragoons to defend the remains of K’nar till they could be properly destroyed.  Karn knew he could revive K’nar and make him his servant. Karn had us wavering when Istivan of Dragonspire bravely cut off Karn’s forces. This wouldn’t last.  We didn’t know Telemachus would take advantage of the situation.  Telemachus blew a hole in the back of Mittelmarch and caught both sides by surprise.  Flanked on both sides, our doom was hanging over us.  From the docks we heard great explosions, and then many bodies of Telemachus’s warriors flew through the air.  It was canons from a ship, I had heard them before, never thought I’d hear them in Mittelmarch.  I did not ask how they came, but I’m forever thankful they did.  The battle cry of the Senegal’s, led by Captain Avias, Captain Sindaric and Adeus, they swung across to our docks waylaying into the horde of orcs and goblins.  At the end of the day we were victorious Karn and Telemachus escaped, but we had kept them from taking K’nar’s remains.  We are still unsure the importance of K’nar’s remains, but they are now destroyed and we are one more enemy closer to destroying evil in our land.  

Summer Year 9, 3^rd Age, Sir Nichtmar of Mittelmarch 

Year of the Jovian

Last year was good. Mittelmarch had gained strength and a King.  Lord Isen, the first King of Mittelmarch had started his rule, but not long after he went missing when the Jovian Empire arrived in our Land. Lord Anvil of Dunland came to aid the leaderless Mittelmarch against General Shatar’s Jovian Legion, but there was too many.  They sacked the keep.  Now Shatar rules over Mittelmarch, an extension of Emperor Thrawn’s command.  Some of us are scattered throughout the Land and others have converted to the Jovian way.  One strikes at my heart the most.  Baethor has joined their ranks.  Several of the Mittelmarch Guard followed him to the other side.  Who knows who else will join them…?  There are rumors of Isg’bel’s Sceptor being found by the Jovians. It is a powerful weapon and could be used to defeat them. Rumors report that Telemachus is in league with them.  I find myself lost. I travel the Land with my squire, Gron. We are fighting to survive and trying to figure out a plan, but I have none.  I have sent the remaining Guard and survivors to Fangorn to hide until we call on them.  That day may never come, for this war seems over and our blood runs cold.

Summer Year 9, 3^rd Age, Lord Anvil of Dunland

Anvil lays in a back of a wagon bound for Dunland and Gladden Fields, through the back flap he can still see the smoke rising from Mittelmarch miles away. He knows he needs to sleep and rest but the constant movement of the wagon is making it difficult.

As he lays there he muses on the battle that has led him to be so grievesouly wounded. He remembers the siege with the alliance surrounding. The scouts had reported a large wagon train of supplies headed for the city and troops had been dispatched to intercept them. The Jovian guards fought well and with deadly precision, but the appearance of trolls, orcs, and other monsters wearing the Chu Ku'tal symbol also guarding the wagon train was unnerving. Between the precision of the Jovians and the brute force of the monsters many troops died before the first assault on the city. Anvil remembers how surprised everyone was by the capture of the trebuchets.

After the siege was in full swing and both sides began firing the trebuchets causing massive damage to the city and attackers alike, the main assault began on the gates. Both sides ended up sending out sapping teams to destroy the seige equipment and the allaince ended up using some of the captured explosive powder to bring down a section of wall into the city.

After that it became a street brawl with little looks of an organized battle. As troops from both sides rushed into the breeches made by the Allaince it became clear neither side was going to give or expect mercy from the other. The General Shatar used the Chu Ku'tal as shock troops to bolster weak points where the alliance seemed to be breaking through. Nothing like a few trolls with trees to clear away anyone in the way to swing a fight back for the Jovians.

Anvil worries what kind of unholy promise was given to the Goth Banith to have him send so many of his monsters to help the jovians, and does this mean the peace between Dunland and the Chu Ku'tal is at an end? The last images Anvil had of the battle was that of his daughter fleeing from the city with Jovians chasing her with intent to kill. After charging past the smoldering ruins of a trebuchet and breaking off another arrow that had found it's mark in him. Anvil remembers seeing his allies rush to his daughter as the jovians attack her. Anvil remembers having to slam into a small band of Jovians himself and after felling a pair of them felt the hot sear of a sword into his side.

Later Anvil awoke in the healers tent and found out Amayls was wounded but would live. Someone killed Shatar, it didn't matter to him who just that the man was dead. He also found out that the majority of his forces were either killed or wounded badly. The city was free but at a dear cost to the alliance. The city itself is a former shell of its self.

Anvil thanks the gods that Plebian was left behind to run Dunland during the battle. Plebian and Lupus will have to keep Dunland going and safe till Anvil can recoup enough to take back over day to day operations.

Now Dunland will face north and start open aggression with the main jovian city. We cannot let them know we were hurt as badly as we were. Hopefully the last 6 months of preparations for any invading army will pay off if it comes to that.

A darkness creeps into Anvil's heart and he sends for a messenger. "Go back to M.M. and ask them if they will allow me to have Shatar's head.  Tell them I wish to send it to the emperor as a present. Also find someone who can take a message to Goth Banith. I think we need to talk.

With that Anvil lays back and tries to get some sleep.

Winter Year 9, 3^rd Age, Plebian Galvorn of Dunland

Bridge to Gladden Fields 

"That bridge must be brought to ruin" said Anvil in a reserved tone.  That had been two days ago, then the plan seemed straight forward, simple even.  With the combined forces of these lands together again looking at the bridge it was not going to be that simple.

 As Plebian sits on his horse looking down at the bridge Jovians were already on it and would be to the other side in just a few moments, with a few snap decision orders shouted between kings, knights and unit leaders the main allied force charges to the bridge hoping to catch as many Joves on it as possible.

 This thankfully was not the Jovian main force or it would have been fruitless to attempt, this was just one of several columns that would be bringing wrath upon the walls of Gladden Fields.

 Plebian turns to look at his handpicked men, picked for their skill with siege engines and catapults.  The primary order was to take out the left side main pillar for the bridge.  Five hundred yards away another team composed of similar troops would take out the right pillar.

 As the two forces clashed at the edge of the bridge that was the signal for the two engineering units to advance and take position " let’s get this done quickly many life’s depend on a timely destruction of the bridge".


 Plebian smiled as a handful of Jovians broke ranks and charged toward the siege devices the closest Jove threw a large ax just missing Plebians head.  Quickly they were dispatched and Plebian turned to check on the progress of the engineers that is when he heard a large crash come from the bridge as the pillar fell to pieces into the river below.



   "Now if the right side would just hurry up".  Plebian jumps from his horse to shore up the shield wall now that his primary order was complete he could work on his secondary, which is to kill jovians.

 With the Jovians trapped on the bridge the Dunland archers were making short work of the Jovian center.  Without warning the Joves gave a final push to break out collapsing our center, unfortunately for them it was to late at that moment the right side pillar snapped away bringing the whole bridge down sending hundreds of Joves to their death.

 With no hesitation and very little mercy the few that broke our line were cut down with only one Jovian soldier taken prisoner.  Victory for now

Winter Year 9, 3^rd Age, Banith of the Chu Ku’tal

Battle of Gladden Fields

Banith watched from the small rise in the forest as the Jovian army moved past. Slowly the crimson serpent moved toward the front gate of Gladden Fields. Farms had been abandoned and the farmers and their families had moved into the town, now they gathered with their brethren atop the walls.

When the Jovians reached the gate, the battle erupted, but the Chu Ku'tal stood still. Banith could stand there and watch as the Jovians fought the Dunlanders. He could wait til it was all done and move in to pick up the pieces and  pick apart the survivors and take what he wanted. He could feel his men looking at him, they were anxious for battle. The Jovians had been too focused on the Dunlanders to realize that now they were surrounded and  they had no hope of retreat.

Banith looked to his right and nodded at a goblin who sprinted off. His job was to light the star light, a giant heap of wood that Banith had built to use as a signal fire. The Star Light once lit would tell Melko to start the bombardment of Jove. Miles away the Jovians would come under attack by dozens of large trolls hurling rocks, orcs manning siege weapons and goblins who would wear on the Jovian defense. Banith's plan was to not let the Jovians rest after the defeat this day, once they were done here, the Chu Ku'tal would move immediately on Jove.

"My Goth," interrupted Flaw, standing at Banith's side. "The men grow restless."

Banith nodded in agreement, he could hear their grumbling, the shifting of their feet, the movement of armor.

"Once the first line is dispatched by the Dunlanders, we move but not before. They must feel like they are only fighting the Dunlanders," responded Banith.

The walls and men of Dunland stood strong as the wave of Jovians smashed into them. As Banith watched the men fighting and the arrows flying, he saw the first line fall. It was now time to close the Jovians in and end the hold the Jovians had on the Land.

Banith raised his sword and as he lowered it he yelled.

"Diisum!"

It had begun!


Hours later…

The bodies of human, elf, orc, goblin, troll and even the creature known as Jovian littered the fields and the streets of Gladden Field. Banith stood at the gate of the town and looked in. If things were different, he would order his brothers and sisters to continue until every man, woman and child within the town were dead. He stared at the men breathing hard from the battle, elves helped the injured to get attention to their wounds, and those who viewed his people and clinched their swords tightly.

At one point in the battle, Banith and the King Anvil had come face to face after killing the Jovians that seperated them, but Banith turned and continued the fight. The battle had come off with minimal expense to the Dunland and Chu Ku'tal lines. It had proven that the end of the Jovian Empire was near.

Banith turned and made his way out of Gladden Fields. His target was still the Jovians.  From the day they discovered the first of his brothers dead this was true. He had told the Jovian messenger that he would kill a dozen for every one of his men they killed, and Banith was not going to let this promise go unfulfilled.

The Chu Ku'tal turned from the battlefield and headed north, he could see the smoke of the star light in the distance, having been burning for some time now. He knew Melko's assault on Jove was still underway. Banith quickened his step to a jog and his brothers and sister of the Chu Ku'tal followed suit.

Winter Year 9, 3^rd Age, Lord Anvil of Dunland

Death of Thrawn

As Anvil rode through the city and out into the surrounding country side following the creatures lead by Banith more and more fighters joined him, all intent on revenge for all the atrocities committed by the Jovians since they had arrived.

Several times the bodies of Jovian soldiers were come upon, the ones unable to stay ahead of the monsters on their run for the supposed safety of their empire.

Shortly after dawn the group prepared to continue on towards Jove when a rider came into camp. A ranger who was on patrol to watch for the Jovians when they invaded had news. General Thrawn and a group of his soldiers had escaped the battle at Gladden Fields and as he retreated toward Jove they were burning villages and killing all who were before them.

Anvil ordered an immediate change in course and with the help of the ranger caught up with the Jovians by late morning. Thrawn and his men were moving fast out of Dunland whether because they realized they were being pursued or just anxious to get back to friendly territory Anvil knew not or cared.

The road wound through the forest and Anvil ordered a charge into the rear of the Jovians column. The forest was filled with the pounding of hooves, the screams of men and horses, and the the sound of steel meeting steel. The first few minutes were decidedly in the warrior of Dunland's favor, the men of Jove they met first were the wounded and dishearted at the rear of the column. As Anvil and his men pushed forward the soldiers of Thrawn's personal corp were reached and fighting came to a near stalemate. The ebb and flow of the battle made it impossible to tell who would actually make it home safely this day.

Anvil finally spied general Thrawn fighting nearby, Here in physical form was the very thing Anvil loathed about Jove. The man was nothing more than hatred, cruelty, vindictiveness, and sadism wrapped up in power seeking flesh. Suddenly Anvil's vision tunneled to only see Thrawn and in a moment he lost all thought of self preservation and rational, the only thing that mattered was seeing Thrawn die.

As Anvil charged across the field Thrawn registered Anvil's advance and recognizing him as the king of Dunland he sought to exact his own vengeance and hopefully save himself and his men by dispatching Anvil and routing the Dunlanders.
The two warriors plowed into each other with wild abandon, both scoring several glancing blows as the flurry of blades whiled around them like a tempest.  Thrawn feinted right and drew Anvil into his gambit an reversed his movement to score a vicious his to Anvil's leg, splitting the armor and cutting deeply into the flesh. Anvil allowed the leg to collapse and used the momentum to roll away from the next series of blows Thrawn threw his way. Anvil's shield was the only thing between himself and the deadly blade of the Jovian and Anvil was having a hard time keeping it between them while laying on the ground..

Suddenly the flurry of blows quit and Anvil took a moment to glance over his shield to see why. Thrawn was starring into the eyes of Michael Lupus, one of Anvil's Defender's and closest friends. Lupus's sword was buried to the hilt in Thrawn's stomach. As he withdrew the blade Thrawn dropped to his knee's and spat up blood while starring at Lupus. He looked at Anvil and with that it was over.

Their general dead the remaining soldiers began breaking away and fleeing the battle, the men of Dunland to tired to pursue them. As Lupus helped his king up he said "I'm sorry but I feared for your life and had to act quickly, I know you wanted him yourself but we don't always get what we want". Anvil looked at his friend and with the hate he had been holding onto since the the beginning of this war sliding away he smiled and told Lupus "It is fine, all that matters is the man is dead."

Anvil felt very old suddenly. The actions he was responsible for these last few months and the toll required to carry them out suddenly felt very heavy on his shoulders. He looked around and ordered the bodies of the Jovians thrown to the side of the rode and for a squad to return to Gladden Fields with the dead and seriously wounded.

After his wounds were bound and the men rested Anvil rose and said to all "Let us continue on to Jove and see with our own eyes the end of this war, Banith may need our help, but I doubt it."

Winters End Year 10, 3^rd Age, Giggles the Corruptor, aka the Lich

The Fallen Prevail

I had arrived at home to recover from the fights that had transpired. It took many nights but finally my power was fully restored. I had been preparing for retribution on all those who deweled in Mittelmarch when my wolves contacted me. They told me of a heavily armed guard of at-least ____ strong. Some where Seasoned fighters, others were mere soldiers just waiting to be reborn.

I was eager to test the will and alliance of my newly gained allies, Masahiro and Incondra. The later was too ill to fight but the Masahiro swore that he would do more then just slaughter all to make up for this. So, I sent him and a horde too meet the coming incursion.
I amassed a horde of my most powerful creations from the walking skeletons to the quick ghouls. From the weeping mothers and the broken fathers of Ravenwood, nearly all went to protect to the main entrance.

The weaker undead couldn't cross the bridge fully but they met half way across. It was then the slaughter began. Not knowing how to make a killing stroke against the undead the soldiers simply slashed at them as they would the living. For every Ghoul or skeletal warriors they took, my minions took 3 more with them.
With my newly regained powers it was so easy to raise the dead yet again and bring the strongest of those recently fell. Horror struck those seeing their friends rise and take arms against them. Some didn't even notice as their comrades slew them down. Others tried to reason with them, to tell them of who they were before.

None of them knew the truth about the undead.

In my arrogance I didn't see that they had pushed through into my village. They came closer and closer to me but just when they got close my army doubled in numbers. A legion of soldiers that I had brought from Kanethea had risen from the ground and began to drag some of the guards with them. Others rose and took arms against the rest. Soon the call for a retreat was raised but one stayed and tried to fight me. A filthy orger!

It took several men to pull him back when he nearly reached me but I decided to give him a little gift, a slash across his chest with my sword. I knew I cut him deep, but the others pulled him away before I could finish the task at hand.

The Fallen made to attack the retreating guards when I held my hand up.

"The battle is won. Let them go. They will tell of the 'horrors' they saw before them here. Let them tell of the futility of attacking us and finally let them know that we are coming! Gather the dead and let Masahiro handle them! We will amass all the undead in the Greatwoods and Ravenwood! We will not rest until Mittelmarch is part of us!"

Cheers and roars rose from the higher undead and they eagerly got to work.

Summer Year10 of the 3^rd Age, Sir Nichtmar

The Lich Destroyed

We met the Fallen on the battlefield.  The Dwarf Baethor used his runic knowledge to create three “Paladin swords”.  He said they would purify any of the fallen and bring them to the light. Baethor, Rune and myself used these swords to smite the Fallen.  We destroyed the necromancers first.  They then were unable to turn anymore brothers.  We saved as many as we could, but several had to die.  Tigron met his brother Giggles on the field and it was he who brought him down capturing his brother’s soul into a dagger.  Tigron explained that the good Giggles and the Lich were two separate beings.  The pirate said this Lich , though severely  weakened, could still be  alive and could one day return.   We aren’t sure if Kanthea has been freed of the Lich’s darkness since he was defeated.  We still need to investigate.  

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