[b]The city of New York. Manhattan Island. [/b]

The day of the bombs. To humankind, the building had been just another downtown financial building. Another gate to the rich on wall street. Inside it held one of the gates to Alfheim. Hidden by the strongest of glamours, the entire building was just a shell for a great tree that twisted 30 stories tall. A place of rare power and a rare connection between two very different worlds. Agent Treaties had kept it hidden. The Agency had made sure that it remained such. Earth and Alfheim were two worlds that had co-existed for thousands of years. Mainly because humanity was more a passing curiosity to many of the Elves. A race that meddled more with each other then any other realm. 

[i]Untill today.[/i]

The explosion rippled outwards at first. A bellow inferno blossoming from one small sun of blistering heat to a red giant of death. The flames tore out the doors, flinging melting glass on bystanders.But the real damage was inside. The entire building, which was made out of glass and wood on the inside as fey abhorred iron. lit aflame. The white hot, napalm like fire travelled up the the gates structure at the speed of a raging wildfire. And within the hidden crevices in the tree, faeries screamed in death throes. Trolls melted, their skin sloughing of their faces and boiled. Human guests were quick to die, having no resistences or protection. Far worse were it for the hardier species, whos agony would taint the ground for years to come.

Sitting in the midst of the fire was one specific creature that refused to die untill its duty was done. The Gatekeeper, a nightmare from the darkest North. She was grasping a burning human. The bomb carrier. Prolonging his death as he himself died. The creature fed on pain and fear, and a burning house like this meant it could prolong both their lives for a good twenty minutes. “You will tell me everything” IT hissed, his golden horns nad ebony skinn crackling in the heat, falling off in ashen flakes. “You will tell me all you know. And then, My king will destroy you all.”

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He sat upon his throne of gold, glass and wood. His face was a stormcloud as he heard the news. A gate had been struck, destroyed and with the old peace was broken. The long golden and white hair fell in cascades over a face to beutyfull to belong to any human. Lips turned to a grim smile. They did not know he was a Warrior King. He stepped up slowly from his throne, and the look on his face was one of weary contempt.

“Call forth my advisors. Let my Champions know.” Dismssied the ones waiting at his side with a wave of his arm. As he walkes, his robe slid off him, white skin like porcelein soon starting to light up with runes. Runes far more complex then anything his lover, Johan wore. Runes carved millimeter by millimeter over hundreds of years. His eyes turned from a dim gold to brilliant halos against black fields of hatred. He walked out to the balcony of his castle. They already stood there, staring up at him. Last of the Surviving Joten, giants among even the biggest of creatures. Next to them hovered Bloodmares, their red plumage blackened withe sot of burned corpses. Cohorts after cohorts of Mörkalfar, Ljusalfar and his own Isalfar stood staring grimly up at him. 

“Today marks a dark day in our history.” He spoke. “The Day Midgard made a grave mistake. We left them alone to their steel, to their pollution, to their folly. We even took one of them into our ranks. I loved that man. And I trusted him to police our kind in thieir world. Now I find my gates assaulted by petty mortals?!” He shouted the last with disdain dripping from ever world. 

“We lost our brothers and sisters. But they do not KNOW us.” He lifted the sword Ishjärta, its cold blue blade glimmering in the light. “BUT THEY WILL FEAR US.” There was shouts. Raised weapons of all kinds, spears, swords and more modern ones. “We will carve from their world a prize they never will forget. We will bring war to them like they brought fire to our trees. We will take the hatchet to their young, like they cut down your forests. We shall see their leaders cowed, their heroes broken. We shall bring the might of the Fey once more to the forefront of history. NEVER AGAIN WILL WE LET THEM FORGET WHO WE ARE. WHAT WE CAN DO.” And while the madness of war began to boil in their blood. Dark, hooded figures tittered and giggled in the shadows. Their leering red eyes watching.

“So it begins. The fall of the Elven courts.”  One said.

“Soon, Madness shall reign.” said another. 


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As soon as he left the Balcony, the King called upon one of the few remaining advisors in the palace. 


“Ready my envoys. I will speak to the one they call… Ambassador”

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