Wulren
Member
- Messages
- 3
There was a pounding in his ears and his heart, the drums of war constantly beating for the silver Vitae lord. Too long he had ignored their rhythm and sat idly in his grand hall. Sure the Zorren god of war had patronized tournaments and listened to prayers aplenty, but too long he had denied himself the thrill of doing, the vibration of a sword ringing in his grasp as it crashed into the blade of his enemy. War was his bride and for far too long they had been estranged. Finally, it was time to pick up the blade of righteousness and weild it against the evils of the world.
Today, the drums were beating in dark alleys and corners in the small city of Rederia. Fortified and strong, its walls within the Allir reach were a powerful deterrent to any who would change their way of life. Of course, the Zorrens had come to do just that. A battallion stood outside the walls, aiming to tear every stone apart from its kin. But the real threat was not the canine elves that howled and organized on the trebuchet laden field. The real threat lay within the walls, within the hearts of their creators.
Rederia was a city of slavers, mighty and strong as it stood atop the backs of the downtrodden. Every year thousands of human cattle passed through their gates. Bodies sold for labor, for soldiers, and for pleasure. It was everything Wulren hated and that was why he had sent word to his priests and exerted his influence. The Vitae Court was alive once more and with it, the Vitae Alliance, its mortal counterpart was charging full steam ahead. The drums of war were beating and under the might of the alliance, the chains of slavery would be broken wherever they marched.
For his own part Wulren stood atop a tower within the city, surrounded by the bodies of a sentries that had been powerless to stop the fae lord. When the fighting came, he would not be on the front lines. That was for his creations to handle. It was why the Zorrens had been made by the brother's vitae, who bound by Fae law, were unable to make the presence of their kind too obvious to the mortal realm. His job was to ignite the hearts of those who toiled below. The slaves had been whipped, starved, and beaten for weeks leading up to the siege. They were an explosive spell just waiting to be unleashed by a mighty mage. All it took was the right push. Something like an army outside the gates, promising their freedom, and a sudden well of courage igniting within their hearts. The mortals below, may not have known who had organized all of this. For them, it was a simple clash of ideologies. But for Wulren, it was a concerted effort by himself, his brothers, and their growing court, operating within the shadows for this final moment.
He lifted his head to the sky and let the power of the ley magic grow within him, mixing with the divine power offered by the prayers beyond the walls. Then, a mighty howl filled the air, mixing with the horns and bugles of the army as it surged across the field. The slaves themselves would feel the weight of their anger, their desire for freedom, the need to fight for it. Below Wulren's tower there would be chaos. There would be war.
Gwynevere Jantu
Today, the drums were beating in dark alleys and corners in the small city of Rederia. Fortified and strong, its walls within the Allir reach were a powerful deterrent to any who would change their way of life. Of course, the Zorrens had come to do just that. A battallion stood outside the walls, aiming to tear every stone apart from its kin. But the real threat was not the canine elves that howled and organized on the trebuchet laden field. The real threat lay within the walls, within the hearts of their creators.
Rederia was a city of slavers, mighty and strong as it stood atop the backs of the downtrodden. Every year thousands of human cattle passed through their gates. Bodies sold for labor, for soldiers, and for pleasure. It was everything Wulren hated and that was why he had sent word to his priests and exerted his influence. The Vitae Court was alive once more and with it, the Vitae Alliance, its mortal counterpart was charging full steam ahead. The drums of war were beating and under the might of the alliance, the chains of slavery would be broken wherever they marched.
For his own part Wulren stood atop a tower within the city, surrounded by the bodies of a sentries that had been powerless to stop the fae lord. When the fighting came, he would not be on the front lines. That was for his creations to handle. It was why the Zorrens had been made by the brother's vitae, who bound by Fae law, were unable to make the presence of their kind too obvious to the mortal realm. His job was to ignite the hearts of those who toiled below. The slaves had been whipped, starved, and beaten for weeks leading up to the siege. They were an explosive spell just waiting to be unleashed by a mighty mage. All it took was the right push. Something like an army outside the gates, promising their freedom, and a sudden well of courage igniting within their hearts. The mortals below, may not have known who had organized all of this. For them, it was a simple clash of ideologies. But for Wulren, it was a concerted effort by himself, his brothers, and their growing court, operating within the shadows for this final moment.
He lifted his head to the sky and let the power of the ley magic grow within him, mixing with the divine power offered by the prayers beyond the walls. Then, a mighty howl filled the air, mixing with the horns and bugles of the army as it surged across the field. The slaves themselves would feel the weight of their anger, their desire for freedom, the need to fight for it. Below Wulren's tower there would be chaos. There would be war.
Gwynevere Jantu
