- Messages
- 3
- Character Biography
- Link
A slice of land, with southwestern rivers, all but separating this portion of the continent, as if stifling it. Epressa was rich. The Ixchel Wilds? A bit different, and for good reason—a thicket of forest and bush presented an impasse and prevented a pass.
“They are coming.” A guardian said. “Let us prepare!”
“Look at what they’ve done!” Said another defender.
“Look at the league boat!” Another man gestured.
The line of guardians stood, stalwart, and stared.
They gestured forward, as a row of longboats came toward shore, from the distance, dangling severed heads from mast and spar, their decapitated expressions in vacant visage, but their captors in a grin, baring teeth intact, smiling wide as they propelled forth for further hell.
A path is what certain adventurers, explorers, from lands distant, would craft out of this grand landmass. Hostile beasts and hungry predators meant little and less for those who seek to prey on these inhabitants.
An inland climate, hot and humid, that would present a problem, but not immediately. Clouds of insects may clog the air but a fog of death is what the defenders should beware of as they stare at the distant ships, closing in, on the approach, closer and closer.
“My lord,” called a bannerman. “The army has abandoned you and gone.” He wasn’t wrong. “Save yourself.”
Of course, in the distance, the raider, the reaver, the reaper, could hear none of it, as she stared upon hell.
All she saw was a beachhead of footmen of a minor fiefdom’s defenders who were already running away.
Floating forward, on waves of death, came more than one Norden, man or woman, as one yet exclaimed.
“URRAH!” Nerren of Clan Harclaw cried from her ship, the Iron Bitch.
She raised her weapon, her eyes wild in the distance, her lips in a grin.
She was the captain of her ship, though it was yet just one in a number.
What mattered was what happened when ships landed. Blood. Slaughter.