[center][h3]Eastern Utyre[/h3][/center] The whine of morning insects droned from far outside the window. With young blue eyes a servant boy stood by a giant golden pillar, his feet dressed in suede and standing on marble blocks. He looked on in complete shock, the hands of one of the King’s handmaids reassuring him with a tap on the shoulder as he watched the king converse with a being that the child couldn’t say was of this world. The king had been called at the behest of the stranger before him, and by the reports of devastating war not far from where they were now. Even now the king argued with a frustrated tone as the being seemed to try and calm him. The stranger stood tall, and even though the King sat on a mighty throne, the steps bringing him to tower over most visitors, the armor clad visitor stood eye level, bringing him to at least seven feet in height. The visitor was completely encased in darkened metal, with strange designs swirling across its surface, and two blood red eyes peering out from the visor. A massive blade much bigger than even the child was strapped to the being’s back, and its edge was forged in the style of flamberg, though the body held the appearance of some legendary greatsword. Despite this dark and brooding figure, it was its companions that scared the child the most, and even just looking at them brought pressure behind his eyes and a chilling headache to his skull. Two beings floated on either side of the stranger, their bodies long gone. They hovered as softly glowing ghosts, banshees, spectres even of what once could have been prominent and famous warrior women, valkyries of the past. But now they floated, ethereal, transparent, and cold. In front of either of these two spectres were their corporeal brothers, two impressive-looking swordsman, if not for their clearly rotted and aged skin and dead eyes. Their armor was polished and almost regal, and a single silver band ringed their helmets’ crown. The king was yelling now, but the boy didn’t understand the words, be it the fear in his head or his youthful naivety. The dark stranger hissed and began to gesture wildly, as if trying aggravatedly to persuade the king, when, all of a sudden, the palace shook. The handmaid’s hands gripped the boy’s shoulders as the palace shook again. Great flashes from outside disrupted his vision and explosive booms rendered his hearing into a dull ringing. The dark stranger swirled to look out the window then maliciously turned back to the king. The handmaiden grabbed the boy’s arm and began to run. The last thing the servant boy saw as he was sent sprinting from the room was a cloud of dust poof from the throne as the stranger brought his mighty sword down upon it. Fear sickened his stomach and he nearly lost his footing. He swore he could hear the piercing scream of the ethereal women surmounting the ear-deafening blasts from outside as he escaped. He was pushed into the hall by the woman and the two continued to run. The halls shook uncontrollably as decorations fell from the walls and statues began to crack. The wall blasted open, sending the pair flying. Sunlight illuminated the hall and a crystalline face of alien features peeked in, light pulsing around it. The handmaiden screamed, but all the boy felt was the vibrations of her voice, his ears already assaulted with pain from all the noise. She pushed him and he scurried away from the debris, continuing down the hall. His feet took him far, and he could feel the building collapsing behind him as he ran. His heart was pounding in his throat as he turned the corner and exited through a hole blasted into the building’s wall. He went numb as he spilled out into the expansive clearing where the city once stood. Buildings were grinded to the foundations and people were running like discovered mice. Great spheres of fire were raining from the blood red sky, shaking the ground with explosive impacts, and sending sun-blocking debris into the air. Strange alien beings of yellow crystal were zipping across the landscape, their arms, or what could only be described as such, morphing strangely into crystal swords and axes, meeting overwhelmed human guards and soldiers, whose bodies eerily turned into smoke upon death. Other strange crystal beasts, even bigger than their already tall yellow brothers, of four legs, thin batlike wings and a red hue lumbered beside their kin, spewing streams of fire from their open jagged maws. A group of palace guards crowded one of these beings deflecting the fire off their shields, when another being glided over. It looked like nothing the boy could describe, except a living inverted geode of many unknown appendages. It let loose a great vibrating hum, and then with a large flash, a beam of energy erupted from its center, blasting the guards into clouds of smoke and gouging the ground where they stood. One of the more humanlike crystal beings approached the boy. Light pulsed from a flat sheen of crystal where a face should have been. It stopped a few feet from the boy, as he stood frozen in fear. Slowly it extended its arm, a human hand formed of crystal appearing at its end. As it reached down, the boy’s hearing started to return. He could hear the humming of the creature, the blasts in the distance, the screams of men and women, and -- stone grinding. All of a sudden, a knight of pure stone, riding a destrier of white granite, pounded by, its mighty sword slicing the crystalline being in half. The body shattered like thick glass and spilled a honey-like fluid all over the ground. More and more of these stone warriors appeared, battling the crystalline figures. Dark metal-clad beings similar to the stranger were with them. The palace guards were overwhelmed, the stone soldiers killing them as well as the strange crystal men. The human guards crumbled to dust under the weapons of the stone knights, and as their metal clad chaperones came onto the scene, a new stone soldier would erupt from the ground and give chase to the crystal men. Flashes blasted, and the energy from the strangest of the crystal beasts beamed forth. The ray cut through the palace guards, turning them to poofs of smoke, but the stone warriors behind held up their shields, some stabbing the guards in the back and replacing them. Their stony shields hissed as smoke burned off of them, but they continued their owners’ charge forward. Just as a group of crystal men came to meet the stone warriors with shimmering weapons of their own, a hand yanked the boy away from the scene. He smelt the pungent odor of wet soil and looked up to see the dark brooding stranger from the palace. The stranger was looking onward into the distance. The boy slowly followed his vision, and then went cold as he found its goal. In the distance, towering above the horizon, a mighty shadow stood, challenging a mountain in height and width. It lumbered, many tens of miles away, yet visible, the very sight causing the boy to stumble forward with some strange vertigo. It had many legs whose circumference one could only guess, and a body large and without features. The very size of it might have been that of the city they now stood in, and in the distance, small speckles seemed to be raining from it’s underbelly, their true nature too far away to detail. The boy turned back to the stranger. Behind them, the strange metal clad knights were engaged in melee with the crystal soldiers and their bizarre weapons. “Do as I say,” the strangers voice sounded like a hammer on hot metal, “and you will be spared.” The boy looked forward, a brilliant cloud of heavenly light rolling in from the distance. “Today a thousand angels fall,” The stranger muttered, gripping his sword, a fluttering of wings coming from the distance. The child looked behind himself and the stranger, finding himself standing in front of a massive army of the metal clad men, their tattered capes fluttering, their massive weapons in hand. Their ranks were mottled with more banshees and enhanced with the stone soldiers. The rasp of metal rending sounded, and metallic wings sprouted from the stranger’s armor, catching the child’s attention. Distant fluttering recaptured it and he looked forward again, his eyes shutting in fear as figures in the sky came into view. [hider]Utyre has fallen into an otherworldly warzone. Floods of fugitives spill across the borders into Tarkima, Matathran and Lynnfaire, mostly consisting of children and mothers. Pockets of resistance still mottle Utyre, the remnants of their army and government resisting the fluvian conquest.[/hider] [center]----[/center] [center]----[/center] Monkeypants has decided to step out of the roleplay as of right now. This post is not influenced by that and has been planned for quite some time before hand. Monkey is not only leaving on good terms, but I would personally like to commend him for all the work he has put into this roleplay. Please thank him, for his efforts allowed the continuation of this writing project. [@Monkeypants] See you next time. **Also a side commendation for Oraculum and helping me edit this and his(?) endless advice.