Something Rotten in Syar

[Pyrescribe]

Herein I recount a serialized version of events that occur on the tabletop between my Lumineth and my friends' armies.

Nestled in the hinterlands of Syar, the Ymurica Prefecture was once a verdant bioluminescent forest home to the myriad designer flora and fauna developed and cultivated before the Spirefall. It would be hard to recognize its past today when looking upon the plains and scattered glades which span from mountain to sea. The ruins of great estates dot the land, connected by largely overgrown porcelain roads. Revenants of the Spirefall stalk the lands--aethyrquartz fueled biogolems, predatory plants, chimerae and creatures of chaos.

 

While the ancient forests had long been rendered to ash, the flowing Faelthan River still irrigates this incredibly fertile land. In recent centuries, several noble houses have reestablished themselves in their ancestral estates. Establishing orchards, vineyards, plantations and nurseries, the returned houses of Isilien, Morvaelar, and Aleroth have prospered as they restore and cultivate the land. 

 

The Wyrmclaw Company is a composite paramilitary host comprised of Vanari Wardens, Sentinels and Dawnriders. Drawn from the ranks of the three houses and their vassals, there is a serene--if intense--multilayered game of intrigue eternally at play within the Wyrmclaw Company. The young and ambitious jostle for position with the wise and grizzled, either striving to earn a name or to preserve one. Nevertheless, when the lands are threatened, the Wyrmclaw act as one to swiftly and mercilessly put down any threat to their domain.

 

Usually, such threats manifest as incursions of fell creatures and abominations which have persisted or even thrived since the Spirefall. While most such threats only require a limited response, such as a company of Dawn Riders or Sentinels, others such as the Felsprites of Vileoak, or the arcane automata of the Eldritch Lord Khal’theranas, required nothing less than a full muster of the houses to repel, exterminate and purify.

 

Lately, troubling reports have begun to come in of skirmishes erupting with cave dwelling grots and their monstrous beasts, and even the passage of a malign celestial entity bearing the likeness of a mad moon. Perhaps drawn to confront his ancient nemeses, the Light of Eltharion has also been reported coming to the aid of these beleaguered outposts. Even as the Gloomspite threat has begun to abate, rumors of a plague in the south have begun to circulate.

The Scinari Cathallar Ashlarana Morvaelar has been tasked with investigating these rumors, bringing with her a retinue of Wyrmclaw Regulars. Her first port of call is the hamlet of Anreth, a recently resettled vineyard from which a procured bottle of wine proved not only foul, but tainted with chaos. It is imperative the Cathallar swiftly ascertains the nature and scope of the threat.

 

Edited February 10, 2021 by Pyrescribe

[LuminethMage]

Really looking forward to how the story continues. Great entree int your lore background 😄

[Pyrescribe]

A fetid aura insinuated itself into the atmosphere, even before the silhouette of Anreth appeared beyond the bend. As the hamlet came into view, it was eminently clear that something was terribly wrong. A chartreuse miasma wafted out of the moldering ruins of what had until days ago been a thriving settlement. High Sentinel Ellohelle dispatched her scryhawks and it soon became clear that all the activity of the invaders was centered around a disgusting, putrescent maw of a tree that had taken root in the ruins of the old bathhouse. Hulking, mutated masses of muscle, mucus and mold shuffled listlessly in a parody of the effete aelves that might have used the facility, chortling as they went.

The Wyrmclaw Vanari moved quickly, shifting into battle formations in silent grace. Were it not for the gleam upon their radiant armor and weapons, they might have been able to get the jump on the frolicking blight kings. But they were soon detected upon entering the village. The Dawnriders rode off to secure the north gate road, while the main body of the shining company advanced upon the bathhouse and the capering maggotkin within. Ashlarana, meanwhile, took a commanding position within one of the ruins, where she could help guide the fate and resolve of the spearmen.

At first it seemed like the Lumineth would swiftly secure the town, making safe the crucial junctures and artifacts which gave the town its spiritual vitality. But the forces of Bactius, Lord of Blight, were resilient. Searing mortal wounds dealt by spear, lance and arrow were insufficient before the rotten, ablative chunks of festering flesh that gave the blight kings their constitution. As the day wore on, as more blood seeped into the soil beneath the feculent gnarlmaws, the miasma thickened and soon the sickening laughter of daemons echoed through the still air. The Sentinels were overrun, the Wardens were whittled down, and the Dawnriders valiantly perished. All was lost, and Ashlarana Morvaelar all of a sudden found herself being pursued by the sickening minions of Nurgle. Through sheer focus and will, the Scinari Cathallar navigated her mind through the torrent of agony, shame and despair that washed over her as she determined what must be done: Survive. Report. Honor the dead. Repel the invader. Purify the land.

Edited February 4, 2021 by Pyrescribe

[LuminethMage]

Revenge!! (better wait until the reinforcement with the next wave, cough) 😅

Great story and pictures. Both really beautifully painted armies. 

[Pyrescribe]

Elsewhere in Ymurica...

The Blight Lord Bactius heaved a husky sigh as the congealed fluids that filled his lurid lungs shifted with the changing pressures in his bloated, hulking form. It was a hot, wet sigh of relief stemming from the new knowledge that the first of the aelven war parties had been utterly crushed at Anreth. Even now, the last of them--a she aelf scinari--was being pursued. Hmmm, how nice would it be if they were to capture the sorceress? Corrupting one such as her would please Grandfather Nurgle; surely, such an act would compel the God of Pestilence to bless Bactius in blighting this horribly enlightened and pristine realm. Bactius conveyed his wishes to the messenger blight drone before stepping out from the shade of his putrescent pavilion to survey his troops' great work. 

The putrid blight kings had listlessly dragged their feet and weapons in a circular vortex for hours now, leaving a trail of offal and a other unspeakable fluids in their wake. Off in the treeline's shade, Harbinger Cryptosporidicus watched as the chanting and capering of Spirossius III, a chaos sorceror of Nurglite persuasion, finally bore fruit: a new feculent gnarlmaw suddenly erupted from the decayed remains of whatever its foul seed had been planted in. Almost instantly, it imposed an oppressive entropic air about its being. Only when this finally happened did the listless shifting of the blight kings come to an end. Swiftly they formed up before Bactius, eager to be sent any direction to bring blight and ruin upon the realm. A rumbling, rotting cheer erupted from among their number, for the corruption of Hysh was about to begin in earnest.

High Warden of the Wyrmclaw 3rd Company, Gilgalion of the Aleroth gesticulated and half the phalanx broke off to expand the front and secure the south. Beyond the treeline, the Dawnriders lied in wait. Three hundred strides before them was the enemy. Not three hundred strides behind them, the denizens of Favanor, a small trade depot, boarded carriages and wagons to flee the sudden invasion. Others were on foot. Others still, foolishly sought to take the entirety of their possessions with them. Gilgalion resolved that the 3rd Company would hold the Maggotkin at bay long enough that even these fools could make it to safety. Swiftly and silently, the 3rd Company formed its glittering battleline, serene and ready to die to the last against the invaders.

The Maggotkin assault was rapid and implacable. Even with glittering aethyrquartz infused armor, arcane protection and emotional transference facilitated by old Madame Ythrila, the casualties piled on quickly. As the detachment advanced, they were bombarded by blighted projectiles which melted them on the spot. Even so the stoic phalanx persisted. To the south, Dawnriders engaged blight kings which had sought to circumvent the melee forming around the phalanx, while others rode around, lending arcane aid where they could.

Bactius chortled in derision. What a pitiful defense these weaklings were putting up. They had died in droves and now only a pitiful few remained. Perhaps there were some worthy adversaries in this holdout, unlikely as it might be. Suddenly, the Blight Lord was momentarily disoriented, seeing stars. He also spotted a pack of Dawnriders riding north. Turning his attention back to the melee, he only had enough time to register a dozen blazing bodkins before they perforated his torso. Even with the boon of Nurgle, Bactius knew the salvo had grievously wounded him. Looking for the culprits, he spotted the sentinels shouldering their bows and pulling out their blades to join the few wardens still in the melee. Bactius smiled, for he would fertilize the earth for the nearby gnarlmaw with their blood.

Gilgalion saw the approaching Blight Lord and barked an order to slay him. High Sentinel Yolola appeared next to him, blade drawn, her Scryhawk perched on her shoulder. The two veterans acknowledged each other and advanced upon Bactius, Lord of Blight. The Sentinels died quickly, but the wardens held out a little longer. Despite countless strikes and wounds, it seemed like the chaos lord would not go down. Even as the last of the wardens died under the weight of the blight kings, it was Gilgalion, High Warden of the Wyrmclaw 3rd Company, who finally struck a mortal blow to Bactius. The Blight Lord gasped and burbled, stumbling away whilst clutching his throat. Gilgalion himself would die soon after to the press of blight king bodies, but before he did, he witnessed old Madame Ythrila collapse before the Harbinger.

It was the reaving Dawnriders of the 3rd Company that would still be around to witness the end of their world before they perished. With alarming alacrity, feculent gnarlmaws began sprouting everywhere. The air became thick with pestilence and chaotic magics. As they tried to reorient themselves in the rapidly warping space about them, the Dawnriders witnessed a bulge in reality quiver before them. It was big, as if some putrid entity were pushing through the viscous membrane of reality. Like pus oozing out of an ******, the Great Unclean One Perticuss the Poxbringer, burst into Hysh with a wet, thunderous pop. The aelven knights resolutely engaged the greater daemon, dying to the last. 

 

The aelves of the 3rd Company would not know whether their sacrifice saved the people of Favanor. It did, for a time. Nothing escapes entropy, mused the Great Unclean One as he fished a nurgling out from his exposed lower intestine. It was covered in sulferous goop, and looked awful tasty. So he ate it, relishing the putrid pop nurglings make when eaten.

[LuminethMage]

Really love your stories. Well written! 

Hopefully our reinforcements arrive soon, maybe the Blademasters can assist with taking down those pesky Maggotkin. 

[Pyrescribe]

The Wyrmclaw might be waiting a while for temple reinforcements. However the full might of the Vanari legions has not yet been brought to bear. All that remains in Act 1 (yes, I've elevated my forum spamming to literary pretense) is to determine the fate of Ashlarana Morvaelar. That won't happen for a month, though.

I also appreciate you actually take the time to read this stuff. I'm mostly doing this for myself, but it is my hope others enjoy it or get inspired to do the same.

Edited February 10, 2021 by Pyrescribe

[LuminethMage]

I really like narrative BTs, so I’m happy to read your’s, they are well done. I also write these for my own, but still nice if some people find them enjoyable.