♖ Ultima Ratio Regnum - Part 1 ♖| MSL |
by Marcus Leocadus
Topics: Tyranoth, Marcus Leocadus, Fantasy, Gryphon, Istiana, Elves
1064 C.E., A Dark Shadow Looms Over Tyranoth
The synchronized sound of rattling metal echoed across the ashlands, the hollowed skeletons of formidable bastions once held by mortal lords now merely vulture roosts, all other banners save for one were tattered and laid low, dark as night with disturbing streaks of violet making an ominous symbol, the beings cowled and clad in black armor were not men, their skin was a preternatural shade of pale and their frigid eyes peered into the soul, some ritually scarred their faces as tithes to their fel-gods, they called themselves the host of the talon, ageless warriors who swore fealty to the dark elf warlord whose name struck terror in the courts of the continent and to them he was known as Melkoreth, The Witchlord, The Bane of Light, and they had exacted a grievous toll, taking within their ranks a countless many slaves as they ravaged the weakened continent, from his malevolent mind, Melkoreth had sprung a grand scheme, on that eve, known as The Night of The Talon his wyrm-riders struck into the hearts of royal holdings wreaking havoc under the shadow of darkness, those whom were not slain were held captive, many enslaved and others still ransomed, a reign of terror sprung forth, as Dark Elves poured from the coasts and into the mainland... this place was once a beautiful vale and now, under the influence of their fel-magic and a year of war, it had come to be known as the ashlands, for where they went, the sun was blotted with a baleful smoke and the light grew cold. Those whom did not submit were brought to heel, and many of their vessels, shipped human slaves back to their lands. Hitherto unchecked, now this host marched onto yet another settlement.
A guard looked over the ramparts bearing witness to the shadow, he held his breath, rushing quickly across the steps to sound the alarm bell as a commotion seized the fort, men-at-arms rushed past him arming themselves with spears and swords as they rushed to man the walls. The guard made haste as fast as his legs would carry him, bandages upon his arms from skirmishes prior, now the bronze bell was within his sights, he looked over to the sky, seeing a serpentine shadow pick a guard off the wall and others still being struck viciously shaped projectiles that inflicted horrendous bleeding wounds, his breathing became quicker as fear seized him, trembling under a rush of adrenaline, his lungs filled with air...
" DARK EL- GLAGRGGH.. COUGH... WHEEZE "
A sharp crippling pain betwixt the ribs, and as it slid out, his legs gave way from beneath him, No air, no air... agony... it felt like drowning and pressure as he crawled upon the floor, a sinister laugh as wispy shadows fell around him, a reverberant spectre like voice that carried an otherworldly flange, he grabbed the sword on the ground, barely able to find the strength, yelling out again as a bladed stilleto like heel punctured his hand...
"A beast from the forests would atleast have been more perceptive to its surroundings... you Una'ri are vermin supremely predisposed to extermination, a foul mockery of our superior form... I shall delight in your final suffering" added the voice grasping the man by the hair pulling back with a strength that betrayed her lithe form and with one swift motion from the blade that had plunged into the mans ribs she severed his neck, issuing a slight almost orgasmic moan at feeling the hot blood gush over her form and coat her white hair... "Your gods are deaf to your prayers Una'ri" she added with a laugh before a psychic whisper reprimanded.
"Runva, are you done playing your games?...we too thirst for the bloodshed... open the gates.." stated the voice, to which the haughty dark elf slaughter-wych issued a distraught groan before swiftly cutting upon the draw bridge chains with her blade, disappearing into thin air as she transformed into a living shadow moving between the fort towers"
A deafening scream sounded within the confines of the fort, as a peasant woman dropped her basket pointing outwards, guards emerging from the tavern aghast, the screaming woman paused abruptly as a scytched chariot detached her head from her shoulders, the dark elf host descending upon the town to maim, slaughter and enslave, tossing torches into the settlements, these masochistic beings relished in torture, challenging each other to ever more gruesome ways to slay their quarry, often leaving their victims to die in slow agony, screams soon filled the atmosphere, the most horrendous sights being made visible... they tore out genitals and wombs to take as trophies for witchcraft and potion magic and ritual sacrifice, they put hooks into flesh and slowly peeled and flayed their victims alive, if they found someone to be beautiful they were flayed and scarred, if they found someone to be bloated and gluttonous, the dark elves carved them up, eating them from the base like wild ravenous rabid hyenas, not pausing for their victim to die. They did not care for mortal treasure, they did not care for reason... only for bloodshed and the sacrifices to their fel-gods... those whom survived the ordeal as slaves were put in collars and forced to pull cartloads of severed limbs and bodies.
This was the terror that Tyranoth had been witness to for a year
In their wake they left only a mound of desecrated corpses unfit for even a burial and a banner atop a jagged pole.
---
Music:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgKGn8dlwZM
In the heart of the ashlands, the dark elven keeps toiled to keep their warmachine going, a myriad of exotic beasts groaned and roared as they were transported in cages, some held for war, others for flesh. Slaves toiled in mines and forges, others still merely sacrificial, many were simply shoved into oubliettes and forgotten about, the dark elves revelling in their agony as one would listening to music, the host of the talon made their march in this unforgiving and scarred land.
Something tore through the sky… it was a blinding streak of fiery light, skimming across the open sky at an ever more rapid pace and then announced itself with a shrill yet deafening cry that was felt within the soul, the scream of an eagle yet several thousand more decibels stronger and it was headed straight for their ranks elven ranks scurried and screamed as they broke formation an explosive, incendiary force landed betwixt them launching several into the air, the ground below had been turned to black glass as an immense white gryphon unleashed carnage, massive claws ended across foes whilst still flapping wings acted as a shield to deflect strikes, the creature's beak strong as metal delivered pecks with the force of a battering ram, denting and squashing any that strayed near, vicious pecks and scissors like bites impaled and severed limbs but before long the enemy ranks had gathered in a phalanx and approached with their glaive spears, it was then that the rider stepped off, a foreboding and formidable presence that struck terror with his icen gaze as his expression swore that no quarter would be afforded to the craven and the cruel.
The gryphon flapped its wings and departed once more into the sky, leaving the talon host only to face this one figure, clad in ornate black and gold armor and wielding the sword that bore the lion pommel, a relic that burned with the flame of warriors long forgotten from a time where the world had faced worse calamity than these transgressors. The heat of that flame singed at their eyes and faces long before they had felt its true wrath, Marcus paused issuing a glance across their ravenous faces, knowing well that these creatures had long forfeit themselves to ruinous powers and now only murder and bloodshed be their quarry, and posterity would know Marcus Leocadus to be a generous king in all things, even the matters and bloodshed, his voice announced the words before the slaughter.
" And as is the age old axiom, promises and oaths are meant to be broken, what upholds such things is no matter of honor nor fealty but that of fear, a fear your kin have long since forgotten, festering in the far reaches drunk upon the illusion of power from preying on those too weak to resist you... we had an accord, but I fault that to my own blindness, I thought you once powerful, I thought you once a scourge that we deserved but now I see you are little different than any other adversity or misfortune that has befallen us... be that you may look upon us as lesser beings... but you underestimate the very human notion of perseverance.... and vengeance. I will not even afford you graves for your crimes against me merit no justice, no mercy and no consideration... you desecrated my realm, you massacred my people and their families, and I begrudgingly, overlooked this... but when you took her… you erred in a sin that has no atonement.... I will burn and maim every last one of you and grant you that which you have inflicted upon others, the time for words has ceased.... the time for battle is now !"
And with that begun the promised immolation, the first horde that rushed in glaives drawn were incinerated in a gout of flame that would have turned dragonscale to ash, Marc took his stance with effortless poise and there was a menace to watching a man his size move with such a deadly finesse, every sinew, muscle and faculty of mind primed and honed to be a weapon over the ages, the way he carried and transferred momentum between blows seamlessly, a slash hither simultaneously deflected a blow to his left, an unsuspecting enemy making a guard found themselves struck down by a strike they had never seen coming.
what was more brutal still was that the sword was not his only weapon there in, he delivered his fists with intent and pommel strikes that landed with the force of a Warhammer, bludgeoning and wrestling his way through rank and while before whirlwind strike of flame carved through fel-emissary, their armor entirely inconsequential as the leonine sword cleaved through armor leaving a clean molten slash, when Marc delivered a stab, a steaming his echoed out followed by a cavitating explosion of gore, the grounds of the Ashlands being consumed by a torrential flame.
and Marc all but consumed by his bloodlust.. the last swings and thrusts were directed to those already dead and dying before Marc seemed to collapse back on a mound of corpses, seemingly overwhelmed... the air grew sulfurous with the scent of char that hung heavy now..
" Istiana... my Istiana... I will find you "
Stated the lamenting tone, punctures and tarnish upon his own armor visible from strikes by a myriad foes, now an entire army lay slain upon these fields but Marc had nary an answer, nor what he sought, he would not be afforded respite for long as from the corner of his eye moved a wisp of shadow with blinding speed issuing a chittering laugh, instinctively Marcus took up his guard, lurching backward as his blade caught a dagger strike which caused sparks to fly off, a mocking laugh followed...
[/img]https://i.imgur.com/A5S0d0B.jpg[/img]
" That was a fun one, she made the most enticing of squeals... I can see why you wanted her wolfie "
" Hrnn... Rhunva "
Another strike of sword and dagger as Marc paced back between blindingly fast strikes
" Tch... Tch... still slow on your feet Wolfie... don't worry I won't kill you outright... this blade's poisoned... I always liked that coat around your neck, maybe I'll make one out of you. "
Another strike, this time it connected, sending Marc reeling back onto one knee, as he coughed and wretched, muscles spasming hard... Runva laughed and emerged from the shadow a fair distance away
" You're going to be so much fun, Wolfie "
She added with a snicker before moving swiftly to deliver an incapacitating blow, but with an intense speed Marc seemed almost to swerve out of view before readying a strike and emerging behind her,
" N-NÄNIEH !? - (What?).... HYAARGHGHNN... "
The red hot metal carved through the back of her armor and elicited an immense burning lash in a diagnol across her back, causing Runva to fall forward, where the blade had struck the flesh had carbonize with her bones being evident within, yet all the flesh on her back was covered in burns to which end the elf wailed and winced crawling forward to reach for her blade... only for a firm clutch at the back of her hair to drag her back..
" H-how.. "
" WHERE IS SHE ?... WHERE IS MY WIFE... WHERE DID YOU TAKE HER "
Marcus's grasp shifted to her throat
" Chhhkkk... *Cough*... Nheh... k-kill me... and y-you'll neve-"
CRACK
An expression of unbridled rage and fury settled on Marcus expression as his thumbs dug into Runva's windpipe, his grasp shattering her neck...
"If it weren't for the antidote you gave me, this would've been the end... were it not for my hope that somewhere out there, you're still there I would've accepted it... Istiana.. my love... I am coming for you."
-END-
by Marcus Leocadus
Topics: Tyranoth, Marcus Leocadus, Fantasy, Gryphon, Istiana, Elves
1064 C.E., A Dark Shadow Looms Over Tyranoth
The synchronized sound of rattling metal echoed across the ashlands, the hollowed skeletons of formidable bastions once held by mortal lords now merely vulture roosts, all other banners save for one were tattered and laid low, dark as night with disturbing streaks of violet making an ominous symbol, the beings cowled and clad in black armor were not men, their skin was a preternatural shade of pale and their frigid eyes peered into the soul, some ritually scarred their faces as tithes to their fel-gods, they called themselves the host of the talon, ageless warriors who swore fealty to the dark elf warlord whose name struck terror in the courts of the continent and to them he was known as Melkoreth, The Witchlord, The Bane of Light, and they had exacted a grievous toll, taking within their ranks a countless many slaves as they ravaged the weakened continent, from his malevolent mind, Melkoreth had sprung a grand scheme, on that eve, known as The Night of The Talon his wyrm-riders struck into the hearts of royal holdings wreaking havoc under the shadow of darkness, those whom were not slain were held captive, many enslaved and others still ransomed, a reign of terror sprung forth, as Dark Elves poured from the coasts and into the mainland... this place was once a beautiful vale and now, under the influence of their fel-magic and a year of war, it had come to be known as the ashlands, for where they went, the sun was blotted with a baleful smoke and the light grew cold. Those whom did not submit were brought to heel, and many of their vessels, shipped human slaves back to their lands. Hitherto unchecked, now this host marched onto yet another settlement.
A guard looked over the ramparts bearing witness to the shadow, he held his breath, rushing quickly across the steps to sound the alarm bell as a commotion seized the fort, men-at-arms rushed past him arming themselves with spears and swords as they rushed to man the walls. The guard made haste as fast as his legs would carry him, bandages upon his arms from skirmishes prior, now the bronze bell was within his sights, he looked over to the sky, seeing a serpentine shadow pick a guard off the wall and others still being struck viciously shaped projectiles that inflicted horrendous bleeding wounds, his breathing became quicker as fear seized him, trembling under a rush of adrenaline, his lungs filled with air...
" DARK EL- GLAGRGGH.. COUGH... WHEEZE "
A sharp crippling pain betwixt the ribs, and as it slid out, his legs gave way from beneath him, No air, no air... agony... it felt like drowning and pressure as he crawled upon the floor, a sinister laugh as wispy shadows fell around him, a reverberant spectre like voice that carried an otherworldly flange, he grabbed the sword on the ground, barely able to find the strength, yelling out again as a bladed stilleto like heel punctured his hand...
"A beast from the forests would atleast have been more perceptive to its surroundings... you Una'ri are vermin supremely predisposed to extermination, a foul mockery of our superior form... I shall delight in your final suffering" added the voice grasping the man by the hair pulling back with a strength that betrayed her lithe form and with one swift motion from the blade that had plunged into the mans ribs she severed his neck, issuing a slight almost orgasmic moan at feeling the hot blood gush over her form and coat her white hair... "Your gods are deaf to your prayers Una'ri" she added with a laugh before a psychic whisper reprimanded.
"Runva, are you done playing your games?...we too thirst for the bloodshed... open the gates.." stated the voice, to which the haughty dark elf slaughter-wych issued a distraught groan before swiftly cutting upon the draw bridge chains with her blade, disappearing into thin air as she transformed into a living shadow moving between the fort towers"
A deafening scream sounded within the confines of the fort, as a peasant woman dropped her basket pointing outwards, guards emerging from the tavern aghast, the screaming woman paused abruptly as a scytched chariot detached her head from her shoulders, the dark elf host descending upon the town to maim, slaughter and enslave, tossing torches into the settlements, these masochistic beings relished in torture, challenging each other to ever more gruesome ways to slay their quarry, often leaving their victims to die in slow agony, screams soon filled the atmosphere, the most horrendous sights being made visible... they tore out genitals and wombs to take as trophies for witchcraft and potion magic and ritual sacrifice, they put hooks into flesh and slowly peeled and flayed their victims alive, if they found someone to be beautiful they were flayed and scarred, if they found someone to be bloated and gluttonous, the dark elves carved them up, eating them from the base like wild ravenous rabid hyenas, not pausing for their victim to die. They did not care for mortal treasure, they did not care for reason... only for bloodshed and the sacrifices to their fel-gods... those whom survived the ordeal as slaves were put in collars and forced to pull cartloads of severed limbs and bodies.
This was the terror that Tyranoth had been witness to for a year
In their wake they left only a mound of desecrated corpses unfit for even a burial and a banner atop a jagged pole.
---
Music:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgKGn8dlwZM
In the heart of the ashlands, the dark elven keeps toiled to keep their warmachine going, a myriad of exotic beasts groaned and roared as they were transported in cages, some held for war, others for flesh. Slaves toiled in mines and forges, others still merely sacrificial, many were simply shoved into oubliettes and forgotten about, the dark elves revelling in their agony as one would listening to music, the host of the talon made their march in this unforgiving and scarred land.
Something tore through the sky… it was a blinding streak of fiery light, skimming across the open sky at an ever more rapid pace and then announced itself with a shrill yet deafening cry that was felt within the soul, the scream of an eagle yet several thousand more decibels stronger and it was headed straight for their ranks elven ranks scurried and screamed as they broke formation an explosive, incendiary force landed betwixt them launching several into the air, the ground below had been turned to black glass as an immense white gryphon unleashed carnage, massive claws ended across foes whilst still flapping wings acted as a shield to deflect strikes, the creature's beak strong as metal delivered pecks with the force of a battering ram, denting and squashing any that strayed near, vicious pecks and scissors like bites impaled and severed limbs but before long the enemy ranks had gathered in a phalanx and approached with their glaive spears, it was then that the rider stepped off, a foreboding and formidable presence that struck terror with his icen gaze as his expression swore that no quarter would be afforded to the craven and the cruel.
The gryphon flapped its wings and departed once more into the sky, leaving the talon host only to face this one figure, clad in ornate black and gold armor and wielding the sword that bore the lion pommel, a relic that burned with the flame of warriors long forgotten from a time where the world had faced worse calamity than these transgressors. The heat of that flame singed at their eyes and faces long before they had felt its true wrath, Marcus paused issuing a glance across their ravenous faces, knowing well that these creatures had long forfeit themselves to ruinous powers and now only murder and bloodshed be their quarry, and posterity would know Marcus Leocadus to be a generous king in all things, even the matters and bloodshed, his voice announced the words before the slaughter.
" And as is the age old axiom, promises and oaths are meant to be broken, what upholds such things is no matter of honor nor fealty but that of fear, a fear your kin have long since forgotten, festering in the far reaches drunk upon the illusion of power from preying on those too weak to resist you... we had an accord, but I fault that to my own blindness, I thought you once powerful, I thought you once a scourge that we deserved but now I see you are little different than any other adversity or misfortune that has befallen us... be that you may look upon us as lesser beings... but you underestimate the very human notion of perseverance.... and vengeance. I will not even afford you graves for your crimes against me merit no justice, no mercy and no consideration... you desecrated my realm, you massacred my people and their families, and I begrudgingly, overlooked this... but when you took her… you erred in a sin that has no atonement.... I will burn and maim every last one of you and grant you that which you have inflicted upon others, the time for words has ceased.... the time for battle is now !"
And with that begun the promised immolation, the first horde that rushed in glaives drawn were incinerated in a gout of flame that would have turned dragonscale to ash, Marc took his stance with effortless poise and there was a menace to watching a man his size move with such a deadly finesse, every sinew, muscle and faculty of mind primed and honed to be a weapon over the ages, the way he carried and transferred momentum between blows seamlessly, a slash hither simultaneously deflected a blow to his left, an unsuspecting enemy making a guard found themselves struck down by a strike they had never seen coming.
what was more brutal still was that the sword was not his only weapon there in, he delivered his fists with intent and pommel strikes that landed with the force of a Warhammer, bludgeoning and wrestling his way through rank and while before whirlwind strike of flame carved through fel-emissary, their armor entirely inconsequential as the leonine sword cleaved through armor leaving a clean molten slash, when Marc delivered a stab, a steaming his echoed out followed by a cavitating explosion of gore, the grounds of the Ashlands being consumed by a torrential flame.
and Marc all but consumed by his bloodlust.. the last swings and thrusts were directed to those already dead and dying before Marc seemed to collapse back on a mound of corpses, seemingly overwhelmed... the air grew sulfurous with the scent of char that hung heavy now..
" Istiana... my Istiana... I will find you "
Stated the lamenting tone, punctures and tarnish upon his own armor visible from strikes by a myriad foes, now an entire army lay slain upon these fields but Marc had nary an answer, nor what he sought, he would not be afforded respite for long as from the corner of his eye moved a wisp of shadow with blinding speed issuing a chittering laugh, instinctively Marcus took up his guard, lurching backward as his blade caught a dagger strike which caused sparks to fly off, a mocking laugh followed...
[/img]https://i.imgur.com/A5S0d0B.jpg[/img]
" That was a fun one, she made the most enticing of squeals... I can see why you wanted her wolfie "
" Hrnn... Rhunva "
Another strike of sword and dagger as Marc paced back between blindingly fast strikes
" Tch... Tch... still slow on your feet Wolfie... don't worry I won't kill you outright... this blade's poisoned... I always liked that coat around your neck, maybe I'll make one out of you. "
Another strike, this time it connected, sending Marc reeling back onto one knee, as he coughed and wretched, muscles spasming hard... Runva laughed and emerged from the shadow a fair distance away
" You're going to be so much fun, Wolfie "
She added with a snicker before moving swiftly to deliver an incapacitating blow, but with an intense speed Marc seemed almost to swerve out of view before readying a strike and emerging behind her,
" N-NÄNIEH !? - (What?).... HYAARGHGHNN... "
The red hot metal carved through the back of her armor and elicited an immense burning lash in a diagnol across her back, causing Runva to fall forward, where the blade had struck the flesh had carbonize with her bones being evident within, yet all the flesh on her back was covered in burns to which end the elf wailed and winced crawling forward to reach for her blade... only for a firm clutch at the back of her hair to drag her back..
" H-how.. "
" WHERE IS SHE ?... WHERE IS MY WIFE... WHERE DID YOU TAKE HER "
Marcus's grasp shifted to her throat
" Chhhkkk... *Cough*... Nheh... k-kill me... and y-you'll neve-"
CRACK
An expression of unbridled rage and fury settled on Marcus expression as his thumbs dug into Runva's windpipe, his grasp shattering her neck...
"If it weren't for the antidote you gave me, this would've been the end... were it not for my hope that somewhere out there, you're still there I would've accepted it... Istiana.. my love... I am coming for you."
-END-
Moderators: Ravenesque Istiana Komenenos (played by Ravenesque) Marcus Leocadus (played by Tyranoth)