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Ashuanar

Vizier of the Red Sun
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The Empire

The Demons of Tel Madu


From and age long passed, songs are still sung; a story still told.

A shadow: blotting even the Sun, darkening all the desert the eye could behold. Descending, in terror, and madness.
Writhing through the air, with callous hate born against all who stood fast or turned. Nothing found before it was spared from the flood, leaving nothing but waste in it's wake.

For all its fury, it seemed the desert herself was unleashing its vengeance against all that had tainted her, stirred by the taste of spilt blood. Angered by the presence of the unholy. And only after all within its reach had been consumed did it assuage, and then finally, vanish.

The Scorpion King

Of all the world's foulest creatures, Aqra could certainly be counted amongst their number. A foul thing, a mixture of man and insect by his appearance. But far more than his shape made him what he was, for only bitterness survived in him, and from it his hatred boiled and seared.

The changes that had transpired over the last few years: the coming of the Empire, and the supposed "God Emperor" Gerra's rise, only added to the scores of disdain that marked him.

That grand place, that title, belonged to him. And he would have it.

And while the wretch from the west played his games of war, Aqra had sought out another avenue. There were many secrets the desert still kept close to herself, with only a dwindling few still sharing it's knowledge. He had found what he needed to know, and made it his own. And now, the pieces so evenly fell into place, and beneath the very nose of the Empire his truth would be made known.

Akrep

Over the course of several weeks, the Empire's hold over the deserts of Amol Kalit became increasingly firm. Their dominance of the coast, and the passages leading East had brought the Empire to a momentary reprieve. Their expansion had been tremendous, and some would say perhaps overreaching. But, when the armies came to pause at an unmarked point, and lines had began to be drawn, the absolute terror that was the force of Gerra's Empire became known.

He was not so greedy as some would choose to believe. He did not send his faithful to foolishly into the fray, pushing farther against boundaries that had stood for centuries. Instead he had drawn the lines forcefully with his own finger, and the fire of his being demanded a chill into every opposer's spine.

We, are here.

And of course, the responsibility of enforcement of these borders fell particularly on one's shoulders. Ashuanar, Vizier of the Imperial Army, saw to this duty. But, one could never have expected what was to come: while his eyes had been fixed upon the invisible walls of their great kingdom, the sight of that which was behind him, had been blurred. And he himself would bare witness to this folly, only all too late.

Too little...


Following a recent conflict near the south western regions, the Vizier was en route back to Ragash. There was to be a meeting of the Imperial Divan in the coming week, there were now others who had been brought into the fold during Ashuanar's time at the border, and there was likely much to discuss.

Al'Daim, now a general under Ashuanar, rode at the point of a long spear of Abtati horsemen, leaving a thick cloud of dust in their wake. Their pace was brisk, but comfortable. His eyes were straight ahead, fixed on their goal that was the city, and the Vizier's punctuality. But as they rose over a subtle incline, the light from ahead grew dimmer. They crested, and before them travelling perpendicular to them was another group. Unknown at first, but as they pressed forward their colour's were seen with his elven eyes.

They bore the mark of Aqra.

He hollered word back, and the order of pursuit was given. And they gave chase, seeking to obliterate this small cell of pests before any harm could be done by their wretched hands.


They drove on until nearly nightfall...

Above, each moon risen into the sky, and at their back the red Sun poured out the last glimpses of it's light. Al'Daim first bore witness, followed by the next, and then another...

Ahead of them in a vast valley, a great host. Thousands of Aqra's loyalist followers, and he, set at an altar at the farthest reach of their number. And then, a terrible light began to shine, and beyond them a great spire sprang forth from the ground, trembling all of Arethil it seemed, and reached up into the now darkened skies.

And all those of Ashuanar's men were frozen still in dreadful awe, their eyes reaching high into the night to behold the structure's magnificience. But it looked, twisted and mishapen. It was riddled with holes and imperfections. It resonated a grotesque emenace. But it was yet dormant, whatever effect it was to bring having not yet taken effect. But beneath their feet, they felt a... resonance. A constant hum.

...too late.


With most of Aqra's followers far more immersed in the event than any of his men, Ashuanar and his contingent were able to elude any conflict and depart without incident. However, following the spire's appearance it was quite clear he could no longer return to the city. So instead Ashuanar sent word to Ragash, and also back to his captains along the border:

Orders to mobilize. Immediately. For it was only the following day with the morning light did they come, and once again as had been in ages passed their number blotted the Sun. And there they descended upon the host of Aqra's men, and devoured them and retrieved them unto their young, still yet to be hatched.

Had it not been for the sacrifice to be fulfilled, the Abtati whose eyes bore witness may never have lived to speak of the tale - to give warning, a blessing that in times come before had never been afforded...for all the good it could do now.

Mamsis


The warm stone to his back was a welcome comfort. Many had fallen, and few were the eyes that could be counted to keep watch. He turned his head. Across the street, Al'Daim, and several other Sipahi warriors, likewise tucked out of sight. For the moment.

Then... that horrid clicking... a flutter of wings, and a scurrying.

Ashuanar lunged out, his polearm shooting forward with the force of a ballista, plunging deep through the exoskeleton of his foe. The Locust: tall and thin, with long limbs, translucent wings, and the most ghastly of faces. And when the Vizier's weapon found purchase, it did not scream. Instead it clicked, and hissed, and gnashed and spit. But with an exertion of his strength Ashuanar tored the polearm loose and drove it upward into it's head, silencing it.

And then he attacked another. And around him, dozens of his soldiers fought against the beasts. In streets nearby, there were yet more who fought. All across the city, the few remaining Sipahi, the city's guard, and even the people; the women; the children, they all fought desperately against the beasts. But for each one that was fell, two more descended from the sky. But they had to hold out here - to flee into the desert was suicide, only the cover of these structures allowed them to survive even this long.

But word had been sent...

The Empire, was coming.​
 
The Vizier of the Imperial Army has asked for aid.

And the Vizier of the Imperial Navy has answered.​

A shout went up from one of her men hanging in the rigging and Noelani vaulted onto the prow of the ship, one foot resting against the wooden Kelpie's head that adorned the front of her warship. She had refused the larger, bulkier ships that made up the most of the Empires ships for her own, sleeker, faster, vessel. They hardly needed the firepower the rest of the Armada did when they had a Seawitch on board. She followed the finger that pointed to something in the distance; the faint smudges of a city coming in to view and tiny black specs that seemed to be roaming through the skies.

"Vizier?"

"Ready the balista's," Ashu's note had not been clear what exactly the threat had been but if it had overrun him she would not underestimate it. The man at her side hurried to relay the orders across the ships who were behind them with a series of flags. Noelani didn't move from her spot and instead the waves beneath the ship began to move with them and the breeze. It lurched forward and picked up speed as did the ships behind her.

They were not far off the shore when the first of the bug-like monstrosities seemed to finally deem them worthy of their attention. A small group of five split off from the rest and dived down towards the ship that led the charge. The warriors who lined the ship tensed, hands flexed on weapons and archers readied their arrows...

But the creatures never got that far. A column of water rose up and curved around the ship, snatching the monstrosities out of the sky and then dragging them back into the depths. All that could be heard before their heads closed over the churning waves was a gargling screech. More dove from the skies towards some of the ships behind them but their burning missiles soon sent them screeching from the skies.

"Dock us," Lani told the man next to her and he snapped to work. It took the Empire men she had taken on board as crew a few moments to get over the initial shock but they too then hopped about the ship to bring her in to port. The other ships who contained more men to wage a battle on land would also dock, along with those that held the other Viziers who had decided to accompany them, but the rest of the ships would stay further out in the water. Lani trusted every single Seawitch she had placed on them to fight should the need arise.

Noelani herself stepped off the boat first and on to land. There was a strange calmness over the city as if it were holding its breath and waiting for the next move. As she stepped off the boat she noticed a worse for wear group of men approaching. She hadn't yet met Ashu in person but she had no doubts the one who approached her was that.

"Vizier Ashuanara? An honour to meet you at last."
 
He came.

Wreathed in flame, a red-orange flickering glow as bright as the corona of the sun.

He came.

His mace laid waste to insectoid carapace, shattering chitin and spraying bright yellow gore with every searing stroke.

He came.

The enemy who flew too close, seeking desperately to strike, were consumed by the heat radiating from him. Where he strode, they charred and blackened, bodies melting, antennae smoking. Their hissing and chattering screams announced his presence.

He came.

Hair like fire. Eyes like embers. Skin the pallor of volcanic ash. Hasuras na-Gerra. King of Annuakat. Shah of Ragash. Sultan of Salitra. Djinn of Rhaqoum. The Son of Fire and Prince of the Harvest. The god-emperor of Amol-Kalit.

As he strode down the streets of Mamsis, locusts around him burst into flames. Illuminating his path like living torches. At his back came the Imperial host. Blue orc berserkers from Kherkhana. Spear men from Annuakat. Javelin hurlers from Ragash. Archers from Tyria. And the sorcerers of Thakath.

Here to drive the swarm into the sea.
 
Once, the Sun had asked the Stars for aid and had been let down. He had been betrayed and stolen away to suffer at the hands of those he called kin and ally. The Stars had failed to see what was to come, had failed to prevent his suffering. The Stars would not hear a second call for help and fail the Sun again.

. . .
Medja was not a military vizier. She was the mistress of information, of espionage, of subterfuge. Subtlety was her specialty, not war. Yet, when Ashuanar's message arrived in Ragash, Medja did not hesitate. Every able and available Emerald and Onyx hand was sent for and gathered immediately. All were briefed on what was to come. Assassins, sorcerers, and warriors alike rallied to the Unseen Mistress' banner. They numbered only in hundreds, not thousands, but their individual worth was far greater than the average soldier. Medja employed only the best, after all.

Of course, Medja saw not just a beloved partner in need of aid; she also saw an opportunity. Among the ranks of her gathered servants were one hundred men and women garbed in peculiar cloaks, acolytes and clerics of the newly formed Cabal of Amenthes...sanctioned necromancers. The Emperor himself had called for the clique's foundation, and Medja had been left to determine how best to implement them into the Empire. What better way to garner public support than unveiling them as defenders of the Imperial people? There were sure to be plenty of insect corpses for the Cabal to turn upon their still living broodmates.

From the north Medja and her forces arrived to the aid of Mamsis, riding upon chariots of bronze. Each of her servants knew their role already. She had no need to command them to charge. Some of the swarm diverted from the city as they sensed the approach of the Imperial Hands, a small portion that still blackened the sky as they moved to intercept.

"I've been looking forward to this," the sorceress thought to herself from her chariot at the rear of her contingent. She raised her hands and swept them about, conducting the earth to serve her will. In an instant, desert stones rose to ride along side her chariot and an impossibly large barrage of rocks hurled themselves skyward to counter the encroaching insects. Ichor rained from the sky as boulders smashed into the swarm. The Imperial Hands arrival in Mamsis proper would be hard fought, but by Medja's hand it would be possible.
 

Mamsis


With furious defiance the Abtati fought. They were as enraged as they were surprised by the appearance of these monstrosities, but whatever fear may have gripped them at the first sight of them disappeared - set aside by the strength and determination of their leader. The Vizier of the Imperial Army, though accompanied by so few, was unafraid. And into the city, through the streets, he led them, encouraged them. As it had been in Ragash, during the coronation of his lord's ascension to the throne, when the dead had come to intervene.

The liar, and his pet.

As it had been that day, in the face of such a monstrous foe, he persisted. Even though at some point, it had occurred to all of them that this was perhaps the final stand these warriors present would make. But no doubt by now the Empire had been informed, and even if they were to fall here this day, these insects would be undone.

So they fought on. Even as cousin and brother fell by the wayside, father and son. They fought. And they died. Gloriously.


Ashuanar rallied several men to his side, and as quickly as their feet could carry they bolted out from the alleys into a legion of the Locusts, thwarting their attempt to feed on frightened and fleeing townsfolk.

"FOR THE EMPIRE," they cried,
with love and righteousness carried in their hearts.
They would die for Gerra.
They would die for his people.
And many did.
As they dove out into the square, several of the Vizier's men were undone. Impaled, torn, and bitten, they bled and they cried for his sake. And even as they drew their parting breaths they swung, and stabbed, and roared in rage and hate. They clawed, to the very end. And Ashuanar - he and those who survived by his side, they avenged those final fears.

Then they carried on.

The sound of steel and beasts, and horrid screams rang out through the city. Smoke rose into the sky, and through it wings of dread carried the demons.

And then first, from the sea.

And then heard from the North.

And him, even he had answered, and cleansed the streets of this now defiled city.


They were here.
Ashuanar approached the port, the first of the fleet arriving with haste and mettle. Bolts were fired into the sky, and the insects were crushed and dispersed by them. But their numbers were unhindered. Endless, it seemed. But with the encroaching reinforcement, a momentary reprieve was allowed for he and those with him. He approached the apparent leader, who regarded him as he came near.

"Vizier Ashuanar? An honour to meet you at last."

His first slammed hard against his chest, "The honour is mine," he set the pleasantries aside, "the insects are innumerable, but we believe them bound to the Sun. We must hold out until then..."

And then, the light grew dim, and a terrible sound tore the sky.

He has come...

He dwelt in a great chamber of stone and sand. The monster and man, the embodiment of gruesome. Aqra had no love for any of this supposed "God Emperor's" people. They were fools, and with the swarm at his command, all of the desert and eventually all of the world would kneel before his iron supremacy, and his unrelenting oppression. He would commit this entire world into utter submission.

Such was the monster that had been made.

Around him, several of the insectoid people moved here and there, conversing in their own strange way with one another. And ringing them all in this circular room, carved by their own ancestors claws, were the occult. They each stood vigilantly, with their digits entwining and dancing around before each of them, casting strange spells and powering their fortress with foul and ancient magic. None of the fools below could ever expect what horrors were about to be unleashed.

Even as the pests encroached from the sea.

And they were spotted in the North.

And there. There he was.
Raging through the streets like the behemoth of futility that he was.
Gerra.
He would die here.

"Enough," snapped Aqra, "all that I need has been brought forth.

Begin."


And in unison, the occultists around them all snapped their gnarled digits, and a great light shot forth in a circle around them, and spread out through the sand and stone of their home.

In the Shadow of the Spire


And above, where once nothing but sky could be seen, a great rippling began, and from it lightning surged and whirled, enveloping a tall shape. It began to darken the sky, causing as haze at first, before casting a long and wide shadow.

It hovered, and loomed overhead from some distance away from the city. Long an pointed like a spear on both ends, and riddled with openings and misshapen architecture, unlike the beauty of the city it presided over.

And for a time, it hung there in the western sky, passively.

 
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The Seawitch appreciated another commander who got straight to the point and her eyes followed the wave of his hand towards the insect and the sun in the sky. She was about to ask a follow up question when a sound like tearing parchment ripped across the sky. Midday became Midnight as a a large shadow blotted out the light and cast the world into darkness. Her eyes squinted at the sudden transition but soon her enhanced vision that allowed her to see into the depths of the ocean refocused. If she appeared in anyway concerned about what was appearing in the sky she didn't show it. Instead her gaze flicked almost in boredom from that to the man in front of her.

"Medja and Gerra are forcing the forces towards the port, the Navy will be able to deal with them from th- Excuse me," she broke off mid-sentence as the gems at her throat glowed briefly. A silent message from her fellow Seawitches on the Sea giving her warning of the incoming swarm diving towards the Port. They had been merely specs against the shadow of the sky, even a keen eye would have had trouble seeing them until they drew closer as they did now. But even as a shout went up from men amongst the army Noelani was already drawing the ocean itself into their battle. Her hand swept up and over her head as if she were throwing a spear. From behind her the churning waves shot up into the sky, forming harsh and deadly spears of water. The sky was full of them and they met the waves of insects that had threatened her ships.

Screams filled the air as the creatures were struck in the wing, leg, chest. Those that fell were eaten by the churning waves and those that had the misfortune of landing in the streets were butchered by the men nearest them. The swam retreated.

"Your injured will be helped aboard the ships to get them off the street," Lani continued, turning back to Ashu with a calm expression in those deep brown eyes. She motioned with one hand and the man who had been shadowing her steps hurriedly began barking out orders in the language of her people to arrange for stretchers to seek out the worst among them.
 
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