A tale of Erebus told (A Fall From Heaven II - Shadow story)

So! Preamble, here:


And some more pertinent stuff.

Nikis-Knight from over on the Fall From Heaven (FFH for short, yo) forum started up a story contest to celebrate the mod being two years old (here: Best FfH Shadow game-play Story Contest), and since I am both an ardent fan, a huge geek, and I so happen to enjoy writing silly little pieces of fiction and whatnot, I figured it would be fun to indulge in this.

If you're not familiar with Fall From Heaven, you should be, it's awesome! Some links you might enjoy.


Okay, without further ado, here's the necessary background information before I start the game up.

Fall From Heaven II - Shadow
Patch F
Custom Game
(Fractal Map, Huge Size, Temperate Climate, Medium Sealevel, Ancient Era, Normal Speed, Cylindrical World Wrap, Standard Resources)
[No Technology Brokering, End of Winter]
All Victory Conditions allowed.

14 Civilizations, myself included.


Random Civilization for me. Oh boy. Interesting story potential, however.

Monarch Difficulty.


And to my fellow FFH fans, especially the hardcore loremeisters and fluffmongers. I'll begin by saying that while I love the Fall From Heaven II background fluff and the extremely rich setting it is, I don't know it inside and out like my own pocket. So there will be 'mistakes' that don't hold up to the fluff. And furthermore, I will merrily be inventing stuff now and then for the sake of storytelling that might not mix puritanically with the FFH setting. Consider it more a fun little play at telling a story than any attempt to be 100% congruous with the Fall From Heaven setting, yeah?

Also. I go on vacation between the 21st and the 31st, so I won't very likely be working on this any longer than 'til the 21st, since the contest ends on the 31st. We'll see how much I get done, but with any luck it should be fun doing this, and perhaps might even be fun to read, who knows!

So, that's the preamble, and the prelude to this story. Next time I post it'll be the first actual bit of storytelling. Look forward to it, kids!

Of Orcs And Men

So, our tale begins..
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The Clan of Embers

The Age of Magic, a time of splendor and wonder, a time of things both fantastic and horrible, and a time of Godswar and genocide, is but a memory now. The Age of Ice came and eclipsed it fully in its frozen fury, and Mulcarn, the God-angel of such elements, reigned supreme over the world and called it his dominion. All was winter, and winter was all. The tribes of men and other sentient beings dwindled into nothing, pathetic remnants of that which had come before. Many reverted into states where they were as much beasts and men, and many worshipped Mulcarn, for what else was there to do in this time but prostrate oneself before the being who controlled that which ruled the world? But Mulcarn grew arrogant and complacent in his tyranny, and it became his doom. The Age of Ice ended at the hands of the immortal archmage Kyorlin..

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The Age of Rebirth has begun. With Mulcarn dead, though the pitiful survivors of the Age of Ice know it not yet, the Eternal Winter of the previous Age has begun to recede.

In a small anonymous corner of the world, where once lay the glorious city that was the capitol of a vast and righteous empire that plied its armies and merchants far and wide during the Age of Magic, where scholars and artisans flocked and created works, now huddled a small clan of orcs.
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The city of Braduk was not what it once was. When Bhall, the corrupted Angel of Fire, fell during the Age of Magic, she did so very literally. Crashing into the capitol of the Bannor Empire, Braduk, she tore a hole through the fabric of reality in the world of Erebus and fell into Hell, taking with her the city and its peoples. All throughout the world her worshippers were struck with maladies, those of the mind as well as of the body. Civilized men turned into twisted, brutish creatures that wanted nothing but to unleash the fiery rage that Bhall's fall had implanted in their hearts. They were men, but they had become the first Orcs, and forever more they would be a plague upon Erebus. During the Age of Ice they, hardier in their constitution than mere men, and more feral of mind, flourished and spread over the face of the frozen world, preying upon the hapless survivors.

Our story however, begins at the city of Braduk..

For where once stood that great city was now a crater of enormous proportion, in which eternal flames burned, keeping the endless winter at bay. Around it gathered the orcs of many clans and their constituent tribes. Even creatures so hardy as they sought cover from the endless winter, and where better to do so than where they could be warmed by the fires of their goddess?
Over time a city, of sorts, sprung up in the ruins of old Braduk. The few outlying parts of the great city that had not been annihilated or fallen into Hell along with Bhall and the unfortunate Bannor-men of the city, nor had burned to cinders or collapsed over time, came to serve as the lodging for foul creatures. Having no engineers or scholars of their own, nor the temperament or inclination necessary to acquire them, the orcs squatted amidst those ruins, and erected makeshift camps and shelters when they could not find anything else. Vicious infighting took place between the dominant clans, claiming the lives of many orcs in an ever-repeating cycle of futile bloodshed. But it mattered not, for the orcs were prone to ever expanding their population even under such harsh conditions, and lacking food resources. One mighty chief came and fell after the other. In time the priestesses of Bhall would came to guide the orcs, and with their clawed fingers sunk deep into the minds of the warlike but not too savvy men making up the leadership of the powerful Clan of Embers, they soon ruled Braduk. Bhall demanded sacrifices they said, and many of the weaker clans and tribes were given up piecemeal or wholesale to the ever-burning fires at the centre of their city, thus ensuring dissention to be low, something almost unheard of in such raucuous creatures as the orcs. They renamed their city Braduk the Burning, and saw that it was good..

But as the wheels of time turn and one Age passes into the next, things change..
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A warchief of the Three-Spear tribe, Jonas Endain, challenges the supremacy of the Priestess of Bhall, claiming she has no right to rule the mighty orcs, she is a woman, and she is weak. It is through witchery and trickery that she dominates the warriors of the Clan, and that is no way for orcs to rule. The coup d'etat is brutal and quickly over. Jonas and his loyal throw the priestess and her apprentice into the Eternal Flame, and he thinks he will rule the mightiest Clan of Orcs upon the face of frozen Erebus now. He is right.

But not as he thought, for long-dormant Bhall rises up and speaks to him through the body of the apprentice priestess he committed to death by fire. She says he will rule in her name, but not as the Chief of the Clan of Embers, but as the first Priest of Bhall. He will make the world burn, but not for his own aggrandizement, but for the glory of Bhall. A compact is truck, and the world trembles..


Turns 1-5
The Age of Ice is over. Jonas Endain knows this. Bhall has told him as much. The time of the orcs is coming, and the Clan of Embers shall be at the forefront of the new age, one in which fire, not ice, will consume the world. But all things have a beginning, just as they have an end..
Even had not Bhall spoken of her ancient enemy's demise, as Mulcarn fell, the orcs of Ember would have known it. Met with incredulity, even violence at first, the accounts soon grow undeniable. The ice and snow is melting. Not much, nor fast, but it is. Lush, verdant green meadows and game-rich forests are becoming more and more commonplace around Braduk the Burning, where once was nothing but frozen vistas. The bounty of the land is more abundant than any orc can remember seeing in their short, miserable lives. Various foodstuffs of wheat, grapes and fish are to be had, so say those who venture away from the Eternal Flame. The Three-Spear tribe, Jonas' old dominion, lead the way in the exploration of the world as it is in this, the Age of Rebirth. And the word they bring back is promising.
Some Goblins have reportedly set off on their own, but no one pays them much heed. Not until a runner from Fegh, the 'chief' of that sorry outfit, brings back word that they have encountered men not of the Letum Frigus out there amidst the thawing fields far from Braduk..
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Soon thereafter, council is held and negotiations happen. This new tribe of men, the 'Balseraph', are fair of skin and weak of frame. They are not hunters, they are prey. And yet Jonas Endain, first Priest of Bhall, demonstrates more restraint than most leaders before him. He does not rouse the tribes to war, not yet. He senses an ill mien about these Balseraph-men, and he does not care for the slip of a girl who speaks for them. Keelyn, she says, is her name. She carries something within her that the Priest does not like. She is not right of mind, he says. He, who carries the burnt head of a young girl upon a stick as his symbol of office, is worried by her mental health. Negotiations are succinct. This Keelyn, who claims she is the bastard childe of Perpentach, King of Balseraphs, offers peace. She is mad, but she is no fool. Prey knows not to rouse the hunters. Jonas accepts, he is happy to be rid of her and her courtiers, creatures who are anything but mere humans, yet who all dance to her whim and flicker in and out of existance as she wishes. Some say he is afraid of her. Some are sacrificed to the Eternal Flame. Among them is Fegh, the self-appointed chief of the band of Goblins who first encountered the Balseraph-men. His crime, demanding reparations from the Balseraph vagabonds whom he claimed ransacked the village of some wild men he considered his rightful bounty. Jonas Endain tolerates no cracks to form in the treaty he and the princess Keelyn signed, the peace is iron-clad. For now..

[Drat. Intended to play a lot more today but my friends interrupted me. And because I spent so much time tinkering around with spoilers and screenshots and florid words and whatnot, I didn't get more than this done. I suck, I know. I'll be sure to make up for it later on. I promise! I also realize I writewaytoo much for anyone to want to read it. I'm still experimenting with style of prose and suchwise. It'll get a great deal more succinct and smoothly flowing as I progress, I promise as well. ]

The Forging of the new Clan

Turns 6-10

While the orcs in Braduk still grumble, albeit quietly, about the peace accord with the Balseraph, a new discovery happens to the Clan. The Goblins of Fegh's band continue to prove themselves resourceful even under the leadership of a new chieftain, who inauspiciously takes the name of his predecessor hoping to achieve as much success, but a less unpleasant fate, than him. The band is thus officially Fegh's band now.

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No one would have taken much note of it, had not the new Fegh repeated the success of the previous. Runners once more rouse Jonas' attentions as they bring back word of new developments. A new people, they say. Jonas questions the veracity of this finding, and the messenger pays the price for his liege's incredulity. But by the time the third runner arrives to insist that Fegh has not only met a new people, odd creatures slight of growth and more akin to goblins than men in stature, but also gotten them to agree, albeit reluctantly, to friendly relations!

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The second Fegh is quick to join the first on the pyre of those who have displeased the new master of the Clan, but even so Jonas seems to take the news to mind and spends much time puzzling over it. How is it even that creatures so obviously not strong enough to survive the harsh winter that is only now leaving the world have endured? There must be more to them than meets the eye, and perhaps this is why he does not immediately rescind the promises that the foolish goblin made to the emissary of the small men. These.. Luchuirp.



While Jonas endain does not fear these Luchuirp.. How could he, so weak as they are? He is right to be suspicious of them. They are quick to peace, but seem distrustful of his intentions to keep it. The Balseraph too no doubt knew that peace with Clan is no permanent covenant, but a mere forestalling of hostilities. But Keelyn understands this. Her father, they whisper, is the Laughing Man. His name is passed from one tribal elder to another and has remained with the Clan for generations, by oral record. He is mad, and he is powerful. His daughter likewise, no doubt. She understands treachery. She does not resent Jonas for the betrayal she knows will come once the horde has grown to such numbers that a culling must happen. Garrim Gyr, the lord of the Luchuirp, is not such a man. He resents the orcs for their nature, and he fears their intentions. Their relations are brusque and reluctant, to the degree where even Jonas Endain begins to consider some of it to border on a diplomatic faux-pas.

More expeditions are mounted from Braduk the Burning. Goblins seeking to emulate Fegh's Band, now lead by the third Fegh to date, set off into the wilds to explore, and to seek bounty and renown for themselves. With the Three-Spear tribe doing likewise, Braduk stands largely undefended. This concerns its people little, what have they to fear from the creatures of the wild or their savage kin roaming the world? But then a Balseraph scouting party approaches in the vicinity of the city limits, and causes an uproar by sacking a village of wild kin. The Balseraph-men know where Braduk is now, it is no longer safe unguarded. Jonas is enraged, and his anger, fanned by the flames of Bhall herself some say, seeps into the minds of his subjects, and war parties begin to form together. Tribes quarrel, but it is good, for the victors of such scuffles are the more hardened for it, and soon enough Jonas will have more fierce warriors to show for it.



Despite this, exploration continues. Word is brought back of various marvels that boggle the minds of the simple goblins and orcs out there. Some say not even Jonas knows what to make of some of the strange stones and chrystals he hears of, or the presence of mysterious towers that have clearly stood since before the Age of Ice even.

Turns 10-20

Travellers bring word that the Luchuirp people are truly a sage folk, their attempts to forward themselves into a new enlightened age of civilization and wisdom have met with great success. The Clan of Embers sneer at this folly, but Jonas Endain is quietly angered by this. He knows that if he is to do the bidding of his mistress, he must bring his Clan fully into this new age. They can not afford to be like their kin still at large in Erebus. They must organize, and they must, however reluctantly, adopt some of the trappings of civilization. The process however is slow. Jonas resents it no less than his kin, and he shoulders the burden of progress stoicly. And crushes anyone who dares question or defy him. But even with his bloody-minded despotism, he knows progress must be slow. The tribes would never accept it otherwise. But in time they will forget what is newfangled and come to think of it as something that always was, much like they have grown used to living in the city of Braduk, however barbaric a settlement it is.

The Three-Spear tribe demonstrates why Jonas has such faith in them, as they viciously scour the woodlands of wild animals. The wolves know they are not the apex predators of these lands any more. Some intrepid goblins on a bout of random spelunking discover a rich and abundant growth of delicious edible mushrooms in a series of caves in the woods outside of Braduk. The new foodstuffs cause a population boom in Braduk and the tribal chieftains grow rich off of the stuff, and word of their increasing power and wealth draw even more orcs to their banner. The horde grows.

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Various sightings of docile herbivores have been spotted. They retreat from the orcs and goblins, but they seldom stray too far from their feeding grounds. It promises good hunting in the future, but inquisitive minds begin to wonder if they are not a resource that could be exploited more efficiently yet. In the future, perhaps. More lush growths of grapes are found as well.



Another scouting party of goblins sends back confused words about great shaggy beasts the likes, and size, of nothing they have ever seen before. Enormous tusks and powerful beyond all ken, they nonetheless do not seem too aggressive and the goblins are left unmolested to bring back word of this encounter. The peaceful nature of these great beasts does not deter the goblins from fleeing from them wildly, however.

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Enormous tusk-beasts, truffles, gold, wyrd chrystals and all that aside, one discovery made by the Three-Spear tribe and Fegh's band, both of which are gaining some renown in Braduk the Burning by now, excites Jonas Endain, as much as it enrages him. His warriors have come up lands claimed by someone. Claimed by the self-righteous little beardlings of the Luchuirp, no less. And far worse than the mere audacity of such feeble creatures thinking themselves fit to rule any part of Erebus, they do so not at all far from Braduk the Burning!

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Braduk the Burning is in a right state as the news filter out of Jonas' palace. The 'long' wait is over. It is an open secret by now, passed by word of mouth from child to warrior, from hunter to chieftain, and soon all of Braduk knows it for a fact. The peace cannot last for long now, the short-men of Luchuirp have angered the Priest of Bhall, and soon they will pay the price for it!

Though no census is taken and few enough orcs can count in practical terms beyond the number of fingers they have on their oft-maimed hands, Braduk has a population now that is tens of times larger than it ever was before, and the horde Jonas commands has grown several times in size. It is soon time..

[Yeah okay, still not quite managed to curb my instinct to write a wee bit too much. Sorry. I'm working on it. ]

The Luchuirp wars

Turns 20-100

While the preparations for war proceed at a frenzied pace in Braduk, word from goblin scouts who had ranged far afield and are now en route towards the Luchuirp lands to assemble the warhost brings back words of yet another people. Jonas is not pleased, he has little time to devote to petty concerns of "diplomacy" when his entire city is in an uproar of frenzied delight, and only his firm guiding hand keeps the entirety of the populace, save for the young and those few old and infirm who have not been made rid of, but he deals with the situation with his usual aplomb.

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Thessa, a raven-haired witch of the Ljosalfar. Where others govern the armies and the courts of that fey people of the woods, Thessa truly rules their nation. Through her female witchery, Jonas Endain surmises, and he loathes her for it. He sends the emissaries off with gruff promises of not shedding their blood or encroaching on their lands. They seem suspicious of him, and he knows he is fooling no one. Their time will come. But for now, he looks towards the lands of the Luchuirp, doubly motivated to bringing about their fiery demise.

While the preparations of war continue, an enterprising young orc from a small and irrelevant tribe makes a name for himself by coming up with an idea that no one had ever conceived of before in the memory of any now living orc. He is too young to go to war with his older brethren, so he helps to transport foodstuffs and other essentials. He comes up with a way to do this more effectively, and soon enough his wheeled carts are all the rage of the horde. Things are transported that much more easily! The fad catches on and has the same revolutionary effect in Braduk. Some even begin to conceive of the idea of sending able-bodied orcs out to trample predetermined paths where they would make the land flat and more able to take the carts and wagons. These 'roads' have yet to be put to use, for there is little enough manpower to spare for mere labor now. But perhaps some day they will. Many think it likely, for Jonas seems to encourage the newfound fervor, and many tribal elders and wise women spend time trying to devise tools with which they could build these roads, or put together better wheels for their carts. Or better weapons. The idea of improving orc craftmanship is beginning to catch on, though it is yet many years before it will come to fruition.

The population of Braduk, feasting richly on all the newfound foodstuffs they never realized lay buried under the snow and ice, continues to boom. Countless bodies are drawn into the warparties and hosts that makes up the grand horde.

Meanwhile word comes that the witch Thessa is being worshipped as a divine queen in her Ljosalfar homeland. She claims to speak for one of the god-angels, the peers of Bhall. Jonas anger towards her grows. She is much like the priestess he deposed himself during his ascension to rulership. But still, she is a question for later.

The horde gathers outside Luchuirp lands. Surely they must see the danger by now? It is unfathomable how they could not, for all the laborers who ply their trades near the far borders of their lands must be bringing back panicked reports of orcs gathering there. And Jonas knows the old Luchuirp lord, Garrim Gyr, is canny. He always disliked and suspected the orcs, so surely he sees this coming? Surely he is ready?

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He is not. An overambitious warchief of the Blackfire tribe spots a large congregation of strange, lumbering creatures that he says are like men, and yet not. They are larger and more able-bodied than the short-men of the Luchuirp, but they are not men. Not real men. They are made out of mud, and the Blackfire warriors are quick to show just how serious they are about the claim when laughed at by other orcs. Quick of temper and eager to get to grips, the warriors of the Blackfire tribe soon forget their orders and launch across the border, and after a quick struggle they subdue the golem servants of the Luchuirp and send them under guard back to Braduk, where Jonas forgets his anger with uncharacteristic quickness when he realizes the warchief of the Blackfire tribe has delivered to him a perfectly able, in fact surprisingly efficient, labor force.

The war is a fact now, and the tribes swarm across the borders and infest the dark hills dotting the Luchuirp heartlands. Ithralia comes under siege and the descendants of the Kradh-Ke-zun weep in terror as seemingly endless numbers of foul warriors amass just beyond the boundaries of their city. Their warriors make ready to repel the assault, but no matter how stoic and proud they deep down know they face their end, for there can be no turning back the dark tide that sweeps over them.



While the horde gathers in strength outside Ithralia, whipping itself up into a frenzy at the inevitable bloodshed, the menfolk of the dwarven city assemble quickly into ragtag units of citizens militia, not even fully equipped as warriors but willing to sell their lives dearly in defense of their loved ones. They have little other recourse, they are completely cut off from the surrounding world, and they have no hope of forcing the orcs out of their hills and forests. They wait.

They do not have to wait long. The orcs pour down from the hills in a roaring cacaphony of warcries that splits the night sky and trembles the earth underfoot as hundreds of clawed feet pound across the killing zone towards the grand city of the Luchuirp. The soldiers of the Open-Skiers resolve to sell themselves at a high cost, and they do. The warparties of three whole tribes litter the ground when the first battle of Ithralia is finally over. Twisted, mauled corpses of huge brutish orc warriors as well as stalwart dwarf volunteers lay broken upon the earthenwork defenses erected by the army of the Luchuirp, their blood soaking into the mud. All the goblin auxilias, including the infamous Fegh's Band, are dead or routed, scattering into the wilds. Through some miracle of divine providence, Ithralia has held, and the two companies of Luchuirp Warriors who, battered and bloodied but not broken, man the defenses of the city are hardened in their resolve to defend their homeland. But there is little time for celebrating his victory, because the fiercest of the orc tribes still prowl their city boundaries, the Blackfire and Three-Spear tribes hungering for succulent dwarf bodies to throw upon their sacrificial victory pyres.

The orcs are not without their price either, even though Ithralia stands defiant. Pilfered from the corpses of the brave tradesmen, blacksmiths, laborers and townsfolk of the Luchuirp city who died defending it, the orc raiders bring back tools of unimaginable quality. They are sent back to Braduk to be copied by the orc craftsmen. They cannot hope to match the quality of Luchuirp artisanship, but with these stolen tools they manage to master the fundamental idea of tool crafting.

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The new roads built by the captured Mud Golems expediate the process of marching newly formed warhosts from Braduk towards Ithralia. New warparties form nearly constantly, for the city is in the grip of a great fervor, they wish to please Bhall and show her that they do her bidding, that they bring her flame to this new age. Some few are just as eager to go forth and settle the new lands that are no longer in the grip of winter, but with the call of war sounding from the east, most go to join the tribes in war.



The people of Ithralia gird themselves for war yet again, and more volunteers form into militia companies and go to join their more hardened brothers upon the palissades of the city. They are bolstered in spirit by the righteousness of their cause, the vicinity of those they must fight to protect, and the scars and war-stories of the warriors who fought in the first battle of Ithralia. But their courage is hollow and tinged with much gallows-humor around the campfires. They can see the smoke rising from the forests, they know that the orc horde encamped there is even more vast than the one who descended upon them the first time.

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As the horde gathers for the final hour of the Luchuirp empire, word travels that the legendary Warchief Orthus, whom the scattered tribes of men know as the 'Barbarian King', has re-emerged and wields his flaming axe to chastise the impudence weakling whelps of the new empires. Jonas Endain is grimly pleased to hear the news, but twice as determined now to set Ithralia to the torch and her people to the sacrificial pyre. 'Barbarian King' indeed. Erebus will soon see who is truly the master of those whom they so flippantly called 'Barbarians'..

The second battle of Ithralia stands, and to the disbelief of both Jonas Endain and Garrim Gyr, masters of their respective nations, the city withstands yet again. A full two thirds of the largest army to tread the soil of Erebus since the Age of Ice ended is destroyed, though the defenders of Ithralia pay an equally steep price. The warriors of the Wolf-Fang tribe gain renown for their especially fierce assault upon the gates of the city, a battle that fails to break the defenders but nonetheless sees the first successful breach into the city, parts of which are set ablaze as the orcs trample the corpses of the stalwart gate guardians. Ithralia now only boasts a single battle-hardened company of Warriors as well as some toughened volunteers, but for now the tribes are too battle-weary to strike again, and so settle into the woods and hills once more.

Meanwhile strange creatures neither living nor dead, corpses that walk upright and prey upon the living out of malice or hunger, have been spotted in large numbers outside Braduk. The goblins fear them, but the warriors of the Clan scoff at them. The restless dead have always avoided the orcs, what have they to fear from dead men, when they have no reason to fear the living?



A nation of men might be dismayed at the losses they had taken, and the inability to cow their enemy and take his lands. The Clan of Embers feels no such things. Certainly they hunger to be able to say their foe is defeated. But the bloodshed culls the tribes and keeps numbers manageable. It hardens those warriors who do not fall, and it brings back bounty and loot to those at home. It is a worthy pastime of orcs, and they are content with the unceasing bloodshed. The art of mining is stolen from Luchuirp as the war rages.

Along the road erected to allow the horde constant reinforcements from Braduk the Burning a particularly frequented spot to make camp, at a fording across a great river, the settlement of Renegade Hill eventually grows up. Jonas Endain scornfully names it so because at first those who settles there are the disloyal elements who cannot stand to live under his direct rule, but he allows them their 'freedom'. They will not challenge him, and in time they will come to be useful to the Clan again.

At Ithralia the status quo is maintained, at the cost of thousands of lives extinguished on each side, and yet there is no end within sight, and the Luchuirp have little choice but to tighten their belts and sharpen their axes..

[Man I've spent 80 turns trying to kick the little critters out. I suck. And I write way too much. But you know what? It amuses me to, so it's all good even if no one reads it all. ]

I'm enjoying it, write as long as you like.

Good stories inspire me to play different ways/things.

The Beginning of the End

Turns 100-130

In a testament to how well the Clan thrives even in times of war, Jonas Endain orders more roads to be built. He would flog the flesh off of the back of his captured labor-force to make them work harder and faster, but he does not need to. The unthinking automatons they captured from their Luchuirp enemies toil ceaselessly even without the overseer's whip upon their backs. Great labor-camps are erected in the hills outside Braduk and near the river by the Renegade Hill settlement, to reap the abundant grapes that grow there, and make heady spirits of them with which to fortify the warriors of the horde, and keep the peoples of the Clan happily intoxicated.

More warparties march daily along the road between Braduk and Ithralia, and much as it has times before, the horde encamped outside the first and last city of the Luchuirp grows to great numbers. Some goblin auxilias refuse to take their rightful part as fodder before the enemy defenses and set off from Braduk into the wilds, hoping to emulate the feats of Fegh and his successors. Jonas ignores the petty act of sedition for now, perhaps because he too hopes they will discover things of value in the uncharted lands far from Clan territory.

The Luchuirp grow arrogant, complacent in their ability to defend Ithralia. They are right to be proud of having withstood the horde twice, and their armies are replenished with reinforcements eager to fight the hated enemy. But they think themselves too unassailable. They start to think they are safe to pursue life as it was, and some engineers from the city takes a workforce of mud golems out into the forests beyond the city. The warchief of the Blackfire tribe adds to his renown by capturing them much like he captured the first. His warriors refer to him as the great Golem Hunter. His name is spoken of in high circles in Braduk, and Jonas' warcouncil is suggesting great things in his future. The Blackfire is eclipsing Three-Spear, and Jonas bitterly watches his old tribe take second stage. But he is forced to admit, the Blackfire is to be reckoned with. And their renown rightly grows even more when Garrim Gyr in desperation sends out his most experienced company to retrieve the golems only to see his men massacred by the warriors of the Blackfire tribe. Ithralia now trusts its defenses to young and untrained men. Things look bleak for them.
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Jonas is growing fond of ruling a nation of orcs. They may not be, nor will they ever be, a nation in the eyes of civilized men. Nor do they want to be! But unlike their brethren in the many clans scattered across Erebus, they are united. They form a force far more potent than mere raiding parties. And their master and ruler, though he rules in the name of Bhall, is beginning to learn the tricks of kingship. He develops the land and plots for the future even as he holds sacrifice in Braduk to bless one warhost after another and wish them great glory in the war against the short-men of the Luchuirp. He demands of his wise men and craftsmen that they make better weapons for his warriors. He crushes dissent and begins to understand that there is more to politics, diplomacy and intrigue than he and his kin ever knew before they formed together as they have in the Age of Rebirth.

Word travels back from goblin scouts that a new settlement of the Balseraph has been found north of Braduk. They bring back grand accounts of how where there was once nothing, now a great bustling city of men stands. Jonas and the council take these claims for what they are, greatly exaggerated by exciteable goblins. But nonetheless, the Balseraphs have founded a city. They are hemming in Clan expansion, and will one day pay the price thereof. The scouts also report reliable findings of something, a metal, they chitter could be made into sturdy weapons, perhaps. But it lies closer to the lands of Balseraph than Clan. A further straw to add to their stack.

Renegade Hill continues to grow at an alarming rate. They grow fat off the land, but raise little in the way of an army so their contribution to the horde is negligible. Jonas is displeased, but he knows that he cannot turn on the settlement now. To consign so many of his people to the pyre would be unforgivable, and if not Bhall grew displeased with him, the people of Braduk would. Better that he turn his eyes towards Ithralia, where a final reckoning is surely close at hand.

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While the horde gathers outside Ithralia, Jonas receives word of a new faith to have sprung up among the people of Thessa the Witch. They are said to worship nature, and defend it above all other things as something sacred. It is utter foolishness, Jonas says. His people are close to nature, but they do not coddle it as do the elves. The forests that the elves so cherish are just one more thing that will burn when he ushers in the era of Bhall. Travellers from afar also claim that the god-angel Kilmorph, She Who Dwells Beneath, has resurfaced and found followers. But it is not among the Luchuirp, as one might expect from a breed birthed of her loins. Jonas cares not. He is more curious of what Fegh's Band, he has given his blessing for them to take the name as they like their predecessors have brought him word that is much useful to him, report. They tell of finding the stronghold of another clan, the Clan of Kabhalg.



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Their stronghold is not so mighty as Braduk the Burning, nor is their clan as strong as that of Embers. This is well, Jonas decides. He would hate to consider them his rivals, when he might one day devise a way to bring them under his banner and make his Clan all the stronger for it. Kabhalg occupies rich lands and he could fill his coffers with gold, his granaries with corn, his pens with lowing livestock, and he is much curious of the plants that grow north of Kabhalg, even though he wonders if this cot-ton can truly be made into clothes?



Though Jonas is no sage scholar, he is savvy and cunning. His intellect is superior to that of most orcs, and he is willing to learn new things, albeit not keen on it. He knows nothing of map-making, but he remembers all accounts that his scouts and explorers bring back. He begins to puzzle together a thing or two. It seems that great masses of water stretching on forever enclose his lands.. And he does consider them his even where he has yet to drive the stakes down and claim it fully.. On all sides except in the north. Where the Balseraph-men live. And he now knows they bar his way to expansion in more ways than he ever imagined. The fey Ljosalfar live beyond them. Surely so do others, as well. They hold the gate to the rest of the world. Jonas reasons it is one door which he will open without a key.

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From Balseraph adventurers, explorers, vagabonds and pioneers come word of a great madman, rumored to be the son of Perpentach the Laughing Man, and brother, or in some accounts lover (or in some, both), of Keelyn. This prince of clowns, this Loki, is said to be a great hero of the Balseraph people. Again Jonas scoffs. This Loki is no great warrior, for what he can tell. Nor is he a powerful sorceror. He deals in tricks and cantrips, in chaos and madness, revelry and tomfoolery. He is a dark jester and nothing good can come of it should he travel south to the clan, yet the rumors of his guile and cunning in evading death do not sit easy with the warriors of the Clan. How can they slay that which they cannot catch?

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At Ithralia the beleaguered Luchuirp dwarves stare in dismay into the dark hills and forests they can see from their palissades. The orcs are amassing again. They have always known they were there, for no travellers ever come to the city, and those who set out from it never return. But that knowledge has become a fact of life. Some younglings, children with no beards of their own and girls who've yet to take on the forms of womanhood, have grown up with the constant threat. They know no other life. Their parents forbid them to play beyond the palissades, and many who in childish enthusiasm defy their fathers and mothers never return. Or if they do, it is in the form of broken taunts from their orc enemy. But to see this enemy on the move is a thing of fear. It is true the Luchuirp army is bigger than it has been before. But it is a small source of hope, for if they have had time to raise troops, so have the orcs. And in far greater numbers, every Luchuirp general knows. The hills teem with them now, and the watchtowers constantly report new fires signifying the presence of yet another tribe come to join their dark kin. Mothers sing their wee ones to bed with louder voices than they are wont, trying to drown out the constant noise of orc wardrums from beyond the fields of the city. Fathers, even those who's children have children of their own, and those who have never known violence in their lives, and have occupations of peace, of art and of wisdom, take up and sharpen their knives, their pitchforks and their axes. For doom has come to Ithralia, once and for all..

[Hey, thanks for the comment. Glad someone enjoys reading. ]

Let the Luchuirp burn!

There is a reckoning is at hand..



Turns 130-160

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While the sudden stop in reports from runners sent by the.. Fourth Fegh? Jonas forgets, even though it is now instituted that a Fegh is only recognized if Jonas blesses them as such. They are goblins, and hardly worth noting much for the Priest overlord of the Clan.. does not dismay him much, as he is too busily arranging to travel to the frontlines at Ithralia, another new event troubles him all the more.

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There is a sudden darkening of the skies over Braduk the Burning, and later accounts will reveal that it happened at Renegade Hill and Ithralia as well, and by all accounts throughout Balseraph and Ljosalfar lands as well. An ill feeling lies in the air. A man coughs, and blood sprays unexpectedly from his mouth. His fellow orcs taunt him, for if he is so weak that he cannot clear his throat without bleeding, he is not long for the world. Others mock him and show callous cruelty because they fear he is grown ill, and they want no share of that. One delivers him a blow with the back of his hand, for the first unfortunate spat his blood upon the latter when he coughed. The orc falls to the ground in spasms. Blood flows like a spring torrent from his mouth and nose. No one can understand it. The blow wasn't that hard, truly. When blood begins to run from his eyes and ears and all other bodily openings, fear spreads through the crowd. When the orc who struck the first likewise begins to bleed uncontrollably, panic mounts. Foul witchery, they cry! And they are right. All over the cities and towns of Erebus men, women, children and the aged explode into mysterious hemorrhaging. Some are spontaneously rent limb from limb as they explode in gore. But the foulness of this dark affliction does not end there. Either immediately or over time, the blood spilled begins to trickle impossibly upwards through the air only to be sucked into the dark clouds hanging low and pregnant above the cities. It happens constantly throughout a week, and the terror knows no bounds. The only ones who are spared this gruesome fate seem to be those outside of the cities, and those few powerful or blessed enough to ward off the dark magics. After that week of nightmares the clouds drift off as suddenly as they had come, taking with them their morbid harvest and leaving behind tens of thousands of dead in every land upon Erebus, hundreds of thousands claimed across the world in a mere week. The fact that all the clouds seem to drift in the same direction is a mystery that will not be answered yet for some time..



Jonas is one of those who is not touched by the spell, but even he is not immune to the effects it has. Many of his kin, both close and distant, fall to it. He loses valued leaders, sages, elders and battle-brothers. Thousands and thousands of his people are dead, and it will be long years before the population is replenished. His shamans and witch doctors assure him that there was majicks, dark ones, on the wind during this week. They assure him that such a display of dark power will never come again. Jonas takes their council, and then he has half of them burned on the pyre, promising the latter half an even more terrible fate if they should prove to have been wrong. He then girds himself for war and travels to Ithralia. He has a battle to oversee.

The men of Ithralia, from the grand palace of Garrim Gyr to the lowliest peasant or stonemason's apprentice, from the captains of the companies to the generals of the army, down to the lowliest camp follower or fresh recruit, all know that the end is at hand. They know this even before the battle commences. They know it with a cold, cruel certainty that grips their hearts when the chants and the warcries begin. They cannot doubt it as the rumble of thousands of marching feet are heard from all around their city. There is no hope upon the horizon, for it is black with the teeming bodies of orc warriors. They are dark of skin and foul of features. They dress in rags or furs, or nothing at all. They carry crude weapons, or none at all for their hands are wicked of claw and firm of muscle. They march in ragged bands or not at all, loping forward more like animals than men. They have leaders, but those are so only by merit of being more ferocious and large of body and not because they hold any leadership skills. They have ladders and crudely axed wooden logs to be used as rams, but no siege engines. They are crude and barbaric. They are Legion. They are the end of the world come to Ithralia.

Jonas Endain leads the army, but not as is typical of orc chieftains, from the front. He is no coward, and he crushes those who claim it. He leads from the position of a general, because he knows his empire would crumble without him, and he knows that Bhall would be much displeased. When he dies he shall go to Hell, and she will wait there. He does not wish her displeasure upon him. So he does not lead from the front where the blades and arrows of the enemy can reach him.

Garrim Gyr is old, and he is wise. He is benevolent, and he is sage. An artificer and spellcaster of much skill, it is by his design and magic that many of the golems who used to till the fields and build the structures of Ithralia were build, and kept. He is canny in trade, but generous with his wealth. He is a savvy leader in battle as well as in peace. He is a great leader and his people love him. They look to him for wisdom in this darkest hour, but he has none to give. He knows just as they do that the end is here, and that their foe cannot be defeated. He has no hope to give them. Instead he gives them courage, if only so that they shall have enough to sell their lives dearly. He girds himself in armor and stands with his men. It is a heroic gesture. It is a futile gesture.

The third battle of Ithralia stands.

The third battle of Ithralia ends, and a race is expunged from the world. Their name will exist only in the tales of bards and the books of scholars from now on. Theirs is a culture that will no more take a hand in shaping the Age of Rebirth. Their engineering and artisanship shall never enrichen anything, or anyone. Their golems lay broken, smashed apart and trampled by orc feet. Their palissades are torn down or burnt to cinders. The city is ablaze and its population dead or dying, from starvation or the cruel attention of their orc conquerors.

The Luchuirp fought like the dragons of ages past, this is true. They gave no quarter and expected none. Over half of the horde is completely annihilated in the assault upon the city, and even those tribes who will in days to come boast victory and brag of their accomplishments are not without hard losses that will take time to replace. When victory is finally claimed the battle will have raged for a long time. The Luchuirp do not give up their birthright easily. Waves upon waves of savage warriors throw themselves upon them, breaking many times but each wave weakening the palissades and gates, and eventually the orcs tear down their defenses. Even so the dwarves fight on, yielding no ground without terrible bloodshed. The warriors of the Wolf-Fang are decimated and killed to a man. In a great ironic twist of fate the Blackfire tribe meet their doom when a labor detail of Mud Golems wade into them and demonstrate that their prodigious strength can be used for other things than mere labor. The Luchuirp fight through their city, ingeniously collapsing buildings upon the orcs, claiming many warriors lives and blocking off avenues of advance. Garrim Gyr leads his men like a true hero all the way until he falls, and even then his people make a stand. It is truly worthy of a great ballad, but they will never know one. It is a glorious stand, and it is their last. The army is completely annihilated and the city broken and shattered. The Luchuirp are no more.


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A Tale of Fire


The Three-Spear tribe lead the final assault, and win much glory. Other warriors grumble that Jonas held them back because he favors his old tribe, and that they fought nothing but feeble old men and women with babes in arms, for they had already slain all other defenders. Such voices are quick to quiet around Jonas and the men of Three-Spear. The tribe that captures the Golems who laid low the Blackfire tribe adopt their name in honor of the fallen. The city is left standing, for the orcs have learned the value of not needing to build their own settlements. But the Luchuirp are destroyed nearly to a man. Most fall in the battle, whether or not they were involved in the fight. The orcs show little mercy. And to those they show 'mercy', most soon learn it is only to allow them a more cruel fate as Jonas and his lesser priests sacrifice them to Bhall upon great sacrificial pyres that burn throughout the month all over the once-glorious city. Many choose to fall on their knives and smother their children rather than subject themselves to such a fate. Some few who value their lives above all else cast their honor and morals to the wind and try to sell their services to the orcs as their new masters. They too burn on the pyres. A scattered few are taken prisoner and put to work laboring in the aftermath of the battle. Jonas wants the city defenses back in order, and though it will be some time before they are, his captured Luchuirp labor to see it so, always with the whip upon their back. Most of them die this way. Soon orcs, goblins and others of their dark ilk flock to the new city and begin to populate it. They are harsh and uncaring of the plight of the few Luchuirp survivors. Jonas appoints the warchief of the Three-Spear tribe to lord it over this new stronghold. Rothgug is his name, and he is the son of one of Jonas' old comrades of arms. He is, like Jonas, an intelligent orc. As clever as he is cruel, and he delights in organizing a cruel rulership over the few remaining Luchuirp.The Dark Sky and Iron-Claw, tribes who gained renown for their cruel ferocity in the battle, remain in Ithralia to assist the Three-Spear with their pogrom. Before the year is out, the entire race of Open-Sky dwarves are but a memory, and their city is fully home to dark creatures.

The orcs learn to master the art of working bronze, allowing them to craft better weapons. Ironically this happens not before, but after, the fall of Ithralia. The Luchuirp are not laughing. They are dead.

Jonas returns to Braduk and begins to plan a series of new settlements to be built. He will take the flames to the Balseraph-men and their insane princess soon enough, but first he hungers to rule more land. He will need cities in which to raise the next generation of warriors who will die in the wars Bhall demands of them, and so a relative peace settles over the lands of the Clan.

From the north come encouraging news. The Clan of Kabhalg has conquered the Balseraph city of Hexam. Even without Jonas raising a hand in anger the men of that nation were punished for thinking they could settle so near to Clan territory. But Jonas is cunning, and he is realistic. He knows even the fierce warriors of Kabhalg, hardened by the many battles against the Balseraph-men, will not be able to hold the city indefinitely. From the other cities of the Balseraph, soldiers will come with spear and club and torch. They will retake the city. Jonas does not wish this. Word is sent quickly to the tribes, and they march towards Hexam.

A Balseraph raiding party approaches Hexam but is laid low by the Kabhalg warriors, to the raucous cheers of the goblin band Jonas has there to keep an eye on things. Meanwhile word travels from further afield that the clown-prince Loki has been sighted en route to Kabhalg. Keelyn no doubt hopes to disrupt the 'barbarians' in their home. Jonas scoffs at her folly as she proves as unable to see the looming threat as Garrim Gyr before her. Soon another nation will burn, and Bhall will smile in favor upon her Priest-King.

Soon the tribes gather in Hexam, and with a roar they surge forward across the border into the settled lands of the Balseraph. Jonas returns the body of an envoy Keelyn sends to him to demand his withdrawal, the head he keeps for his own entertainment. He codifies a system of chants to be used when paying respect to divine Bhall. His system will one day be called the Ancient Chants, but for now they are anything but ancient. They are, however, effective. Already people in many cities under the Clan banner speak of raising great Obelisks as the focal points of this new system of worship and oblation. Work is begun on none yet, however, as the making of weapons of war and places to train warriors take priority. The Square of Martials in Ithralia, where the companies of the dwarf king once proudly excercised and put on parades, is put to use as a Training Yard for warriors to practice with the new heavy axes that the blacksmiths have begun to favor.

The Warhorde plows deeper into Balseraph lands. They travel aimlessly through the woods there, hunting for the enemy. Rothgug of Three-Spear tribe, nominal leader of the great host if only because all know Jonas favors him, commands the army to follow the roads they find. They do so, and travel north across and then alongside a great river. Rothgug's cunning leads them to their prize, and they descend upon the Balseraph city of Jubilee. The defenders there are few and unprepared, but they are hardy men who have fought a lifetime against the orcs of Kabhalg. Rothgug's surprise attack turns into a bloody pitched battle, and though Jubilee is overcome when the Dark Sky and Three-Spear tribes commit their veterans to the fray, the final tally is a full two thirds of the great host that set off to war. Rothgug is furious and orders the burning of the city, putting it to the torch even though his men tell him it is no mere city of men, it is the capitol of the Balseraph nation. "So.." he is later quoted having spoken, ".. it will be just as fine kindling for all that."

Scouts locate the Balseraph cities of Argenteria, and Coombe View. Keelyn has fled to the latter, and presumably her mad paterfamilias is hidden somewhere within the city as well. Neither of them are well-defended, but Rothgug's horde is diminished and in no condition to launch raids upon them immediately. He settles into the forests around the burning ruins of Jubilee to await reinforcements. All the while the orcs of Kabhalg, less organized than their brethren in Embers, pour across the border to test the weakened nation of the Balseraphs.

[There, that'll be enough playing for today. So far I am, despite the time it took to crush the Luchuirp, actually doing better than I expected. I've most often gotten soundly thrashed while playing the Clan of Embers in the past, but so far I am rampaging fairly well. I admit I dread the moment when the AI Civilizations begin to crank out Archers, however. I suspect many a brave (okay, crazy mostly) orc will die pincushioned by cowards who won't fight them mano-a-orco.
Also, Keelyn is a bit weak in the early game. Her leader traits are Creative and Summoner. Creative works as it does in vanilla Civ IV, so her cultural borders spread neatly without any help. Summoner however means that when any of her units cast summoning spells, the creatures they call forth will last three times as long as they would otherwise. It is a potentially immensely powerful trait because a small amount of Conjurers can keep a veritable army of summoned beasts in existance. However this early in the game there just aren't any such spellcasters available, so the trait is completely useless to her for now. And I fully intend to wipe her off the map before she can enjoy it, so, sucks to be her.]

Dastardly Deeds and Mighty Heroics

Turns 160-172

While the battle-hardened, experienced elite warrior tribes that remain of the warhorde take shelter in the forests much as they did during the war with the Luchuirp, Jonas receives confirmation of one of his hunches. The Balseraph nation does indeed block his access to more distant lands. He knows this, because one of his goblin scouting auxilias comes into contact with an explorer from yet another new people that has surfaced since the ice withdrew. The Hippus, and their warlord Tasunke, are apparently a warlike people. But they unlike Jonas make war not so much out of inherent bloodlust as they do out of time-honored tradition. They value honor, and profit. Jonas does not agree much with their mentality, nor do their envoys seem to fancy their time spent in the palace at Braduk much, but it matters not for now. Though conflict is inevitable between two peoples with a martial leaning such as they, it is for the future to see when that shapp happen. For now Jonas only knows they are beyond the lands of the Balseraph, and thus no immediate concern of his. He has a war to wage, and so negotiations are succinct.
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Scouts confirm that the relocation of the Balseraph court to Coombe View was no mere panicked flight, but a cunning stratagem. A powerful citadel rises up just north across the river from the city, and will be a thorn in the side of any invader. Jonas makes plans to deal with it, and convey them to Rothgug by means of goblin runners. The time to strike is not yet, the horde is still weakened. But other plans are set in motion..

As the warriors of the Three-Spear and Iron-Claw tribes skulk across the border, they come upon a surprising discovery. It seems retreating Balseraph forces have been tending to wounded orc warriors and sent them on their way back toward their lines. Rothgug is puzzled by this development and quite a few of his soldiers fall victim of his suspicions as he puts them through grueling hours of torture to ply the secrets of this Balseraph plot from their flesh. When it eventually becomes evident it is no grand ploy but simply an unexpected act of mercy and generosity, Rothgug shrugs his shoulders and repatriates the returned warriors to their various tribes, and is heard gruffly commenting to his closest kin that "No good deed should go unpunished."

As the weeks turn into months, Rothgug's orcs terrorize the Balseraph countryside, sending panicked groups of serfs scurrying for protection and various attempts of Balseraph scouts to locate them are met with spears and axes in the dark under the canopy of heavy branches. Meanwhile in the Clan territories, preparations for war continue at good pace. The Square of Martials in Ithralia has been fully renovated to fit the purpose Rothgug envisioned for it before he took his tribe north on Jonas' orders, and the sound of heavy bronze axes clattering against shields can be heard day and night in Ithralia as warriors practice with these new weapons.

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In Braduk the Burning, mixed feelings arise when the old orc champion Rantine resurfaces. Once considered a hero to his clan, he since fell from grace and Jonas forbade the telling of stories about him. Having been a persona-non-grata and exiled under pain of death, he has been lost to the wilds for a long time. Now he returns, and he returns with a young girl. They confront Jonas as he is preparing for war, and to the surprise of many Jonas eventually agrees to hold private council with them. Few know what is going on behind those closed doors, but all are surprised that the Priest-King did not strike the old hero down where he stood. When eventually the three step forth again, Jonas strikes his entire Clan with surprise as he decrees that the woman named Sheelba, meaning 'Forsaken' in the orc tongue, will rule alongside him as his queen in Braduk, according to the will of Bhall who saw fit to steer Rantine with a dreamquest to find her. And for his part in the destiny their goddess wants them to play, Rantine receives pardon for his past crimes by Jonas, and is reinstated as the champion of the Clan of Embers. The celebration is short, and the hero departs north to join the battles there before long.

Jonas knows in his heart that he has not forgiven Rantine, despite putting on a grand display of having done so. He is not fool enough to move against him when clearly Bhall has chosen the old orc to be a tool of her designs, just as Jonas is, but he need not consider the man a friend. Nor does he need to treat with him in an even-handed manner. He knows the orc hero has grown tired of killing, but he intends to leave him no such peace. The protector of the Clan must be at the front of its battles. And should he happen to fall while leading the warriors to victory.. Ah, well, then clearly he must have outlived his purpose for Bhall, no doubt?

Near Coombe View the warriors of the Iron-Claw tribe mount a daring raid on the citadel guarding the city, and catching the guardians unaware they storm it and put it to the torch. They steal away with great wealth from the war-chest stored in the treasury of the great keep, and much rowdy back-slapping goes on when they reunite with the other tribes of the warhorde.

More emissaries are received in Braduk the Burning, this time from a people who call themselves the Kuriotates. They speak of co-existance and prosperity, and they balk at the suffering they see in Braduk. They protest that one cannot treat subjects like that, but when Jonas pointedly reminds them that it is only their status as diplomatic envoys that keeps him from tossing them on the next sacrificial pyre for challenging his way of ruling, they quiet down like mice. Jonas does not understand how these Kuriotates, who clearly are weak men, can command the loyalty of a proud people the likes of the centaurs who accompany them. He is curious of this, but as with most of his diplomatic dealings he has little time to spare for his 'guests'. They are sent off with promises of peace and prosperity, word that will mean less than the paper they are written on when it pleases Jonas to bring war to their doorstep. But that, too, lies in the future.
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Scouts delving deep into Balseraph lands, hiding in their woods to avoid being hunted down and put to the sword, return reports of finding the lands of the Ljosalfar beyond the clown-kings demesne. Jonas is pleased. His armies shall never lack for enemies to crush, it seems. He promises himself to test his new axes against the trees the elf-kin are so protective of before long. He takes the reports of strange fey woodland creatures guarding the borders in good humor. They will fall beneath the axes as surely as the trees will, no doubt.

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Another goblin scout party discovers the lands of men who call themselves 'Grigori', and claim to be ruled by an angel who no longer does the bidding of the heavens. Pure hyperbole, Jonas assumes. But whether or not these Grigori-men serve a fallen angel or not, they seem to take great offense at faith of any kind. Jonas is incensed when they insist Bhall is leading him astray upon a path that needed not be his. He is her Priest-King, and his life is hers. He threatens to smite the Grigori courtiers despite being envoys, and only the counsel of trusted elders in Braduk keep him from doing it in the end. The Grigori are sent off with cold promises of peace, for now.


While Rothgug advances decisively to lay siege to Coombe View, scouts report finding the city of Gaudium near the Ljosalfar-Balseraph border in the north. It is a mere footnote in the grand scale of things, and Jonas remembers it only as one more place that he will crush underfoot. Meanwhile as Rantine advances north, the cunning of Jonas' mind is revealed in full. As the great orc hero enters the city of Hexam, where the orcs of the Kabhalg clan still hold dominion, the orcs are so awestruck by the presence of the legendary warrior that they abandon their old allegiance wholesale, and the whole city pledges allegiance to the banner of Embers.
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In the south, in the wildlands between Braduk and Ithralia, a new orc clan is sighted, having settled in the fertile plains below the great forest there. The clan of Domir, Jonas envisions, will soon enough come under the banner of Embers, and so he leaves them be for now. They will undoubtedly mount raids north into Balseraph lands as well, and so they can only serve his purposes regardless.

Meanwhile as reinforcements trickle north from Clan territory, Rantine leads vicious raids into the hills outside of Hexam where some Balseraph soldiers have taken up position, no doubt hoping to snatch back the city that Kabhalg orcs took from them, and which now flies the hated banner of Embers. But it is not to be as Rantine mercilessly scours them from their position. He may be tired of the bloodshed and the killing, but he still remembers more than adequately how it is done, and no survivors return to Balseraph lands. It is a grim sign of things to come for Keelyn's people, and there are whispers on the winds of even darker things to come..

[Fiddlesticks. I have to take a break here, there's (*sigh!*) chores to be done. Real life does have a nasty way of interrupting me. Alas! I'll see if I can't get some more gaming done in between doing loads of laundry though, we'll see!]

For the Horde!

Turns 172-220

The Great Call




All over Erebus, powerful warchiefs are visited by Bhall in their dreams. She calls to them and demands that they accept Jonas Endain as their Priest-King, as he rules in her name. She wishes that orcs be united in her bidding, and not scattered and weak as they are now. Many are struck with zealous ardor at these visitations and immediately pledge themselves to the Clan of Embers. They communicate with Jonas through visions that their shamans are suddenly able to conjur up more reliably than before. Many chiefs also refuse, and some Bhall strikes down with flaming anger, others she simply chooses to forego, either leaving them to their fate as she removes her favor from them, or going instead to their second-in-commands to see if they will be more willing to listen.

Overnight, the military might of the Clan of Embers grows a hundredfold, and where Jonas once commanded a single warhorde, he now commands hordes all over Erebus. They are still scattered and separated, but they now bend to his will and he can begun the demanding task of bringing his new army home. A great march begins all over Erebus.

Through his far-flung new subjects, Jonas comes into contact with many new empires. The Lanun, men of the sea, and the Sidar, shades of men who seem to exist only half in the real world, are but some of them. He learns of the Clans of Uddrur, Hyol and Straatus. He finds the lands of the Bannor-men, ancient enemies of all orcs and those who committed the ultimate sin when they tried to 'civilize' Sheelba, she who Bhall had chosen to be her queen in the mortal realm.
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In the wake of the Great Call as Jonas' grand rite is commonly called, things look well for the Clan. The settlement of Shazak is founded, and Jonas makes vast improvements to the way orcs revere their goddess, including appointing himself more formally as her divine messenger and ruler of all orcs both spiritually and temporally. The office of Priest King is formulated in full, and Jonas will be both the first and only orc ever to shoulder that weight of authority.

The Clan of Deluoc is encountered to the east of the old Luchuirp lands. These orcs have settled in a river valley that Jonas had earmarked for future expansion. It amuses him, because in the end they will bend knee to him just the same.



Hannah the Irin, mistress of the Lanun people, seems to worship the Runes of Kilmorph. Why a Queen of the Sea should worship the Goddess of the Earth no one is sure, but some mutter that it is not the sea, but only the wealth it brings that she loves. Tasunke of the Hippus also converts to the worship of Kilmorph during this time, and Jonas grits his teeth in his palace. This earth-worship is becoming a thorn in his side that he will not be able to tolerate forever. Soon enough word travels back from lands far, far beyond those of the Balseraph, Ljosalfar and Grigori. At first Jonas thinks some of the hated Luchuirp might have fled his purge, but the truth is soon revealed. These people are kin to the Luchuirp, but they are not them. They are the Khazad of Underhome. When the world suffered in the eternal winter, they hid away underneath the earth. It is from their halls that the teaching of Kilmorph spread across Erebus, and Jonas longs to spread Bhall's fire to them. But it is not the right time yet, they are beyond his reach. Their leader, Kandros Fir, agrees to peace. He wishes to promote trade, and a war is not in his interest, unless it is inherently profitable.
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Many of the tribes pledged to Jonas' new horde run afoul of the beasts of the wild, as savage bears or terrible giant spiders prey upon them. But the tribes that deserted from the clans of Hyol and Uddrur have begun to pull together in the wilds to form a horde of their own, and march towards the lands of the Clan of Embers with fanatical determination.
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Jonas begins to learn what it is to rule a nation, an empire, and not just a tribe or clan. His people dare complain, they raise their voices in protest. 'Too crowded' cry the people of Renegade Hill, grown from a small piddling settlement into a city to rival Braduk in size if not splendor. They erect monuments to their heroes of war, and a great obelisk to honor Bhall, but still they complain. They remain a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, Jonas is often heard saying. In Hexam the conquered Balseraph people complain, they long for their previous overlords, and dare to voice this dissatisfaction even in the face of the whips and fists of the orcs. He begins work on a brewery in Renegade Hill, hoping that besotted orcs will be happy orcs. Hexam he merely glares at and waits for the day when orcs have fully supplanted the pathetic Balseraph-men of the city.

Meanwhile, further north, Rothgug's horde has swelled in size and been joined by Rantine and tribes from Ithralia, wielding massive bronze axes. But Keelyn and her generals have been busy, and the garrison of Coombe View, even without the mighty citadel guarding their flank, is formidable. Rothgug decides, reluctantly listening to the council of Rantine, to take the horde deeper into the lands of the Balseraph, forcing their army out into the open lest they wish to see their smaller settlements put to the torch.

The strategy works, and the Balseraph people wail in terror as their army is butchered in the open fields, and the cities of Gaudium, Guell and Argenteria burn even as the horde only increases in size. In a desperate bid to curry favor with the Ljosalfar people, Keelyn invites the disciplines of the Fellowship of Leaves into her capitol, hoping against hope that where might of arms has failed her, religious discipline might. But their conversion is for naught, and Coombe View is trampled underfoot. The Balseraph people is ended, and their mad princess flees her burning city. None know where she goes, but popular stories in years to come will claim that she and her mad father wander Erebus with a theatre group, or perhaps a carnival. Many cities treat the gypsy bands who travel the roads all the more harshly based simply on these legends, for who wishes to see the Laughing Man and his daughter admitted to their city?

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Even as he ends one people, Jonas begins the subjugation of another. His horde in the far reaches of the world draws together and marches on the lands of the Sidar. These immortal shades are not to Jonas' liking. They do not enrage him as much as Thessa and Kandros with their pathetic faiths, nor the godless Grigori, but he is still ill at ease accepting creatures such as they to wander Erebus. And with his horde crossing their borders under the command of the lizardman chieftain Silthiss, he fully intends to see them removed before they grow to be more of an impediment to his plans. Unfortunately Silthiss, the veteran of many raids, is unused to leading pitched battles, and his men are bewildered by the sprawling city. The Sidar prove hardier than they seemed, and the orcs learn too late that the Shades are indeed hard to kill. The horde is destroyed, and the tattered remnants of it flee into the wilds. Silthiss is nowhere to be found, though some claim he skulked unseen through the forests and jungles all the way to Braduk, and that Jonas spared his life in return for the lizard-chief's aid in bringing more of his kin to the Clan.



The warriors of the Bloodied Club tribe manages to gather the survivors of the horde together, but knowing that they have no hope of sacking the Sidar city of Vetus now, they begin instead a long trek towards Clan territory, hoping against hope to join forces with Jonas' horde there. It is with justifiable glee they burn the newfound Sidar settlement of Latito on their way. Jonas expediates their journey as best he can, browbeating Cassiel of the Grigori into a concession where he allows the orc warriors free passage through his lands in return for the same favor from Jonas.

The witch Thessa proves her trickery and guile as she captures the orc stronghold of Clan Domir between Braduk and Ithralia, having cunningly snuck through the lands of the Balseraph while the war still raged there, and then prowled further south without alerting Jonas to her presence. He is incensed at this treachery, but his rage is shortlived. Though she has sent a mighty champion to hold Domir, his company is alone and deep in Clan territory. When the reckoning comes, his defiance shall be swiftly dealt with.

Even as he plans for wars to come and enemies to be dealt with, Jonas grows uneasy. There is something in the air, a foul whisper upon the winds, and in his mind when it is at rest. He cannot put his finger on what it is, but it fills him with both anxiousness and gleeful anticipation for the future.
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Word travels that men look to a new faith, worshipping beings they call the 'Octopus Overlords'. Dread creatures existing deep beneath the seas of Erebus, who speak to the minds of men in their sleep. Jonas scoffs at this, and knows that it is not the source of his unease, for he is no mere man to let any sea-squid influence his thoughts.


A deal is struck with Tasunke, Jonas agrees to trade him wine and other alcoholic beverages brewed in the Renegade Hill breweries, and in return the Hippus fishermen will share of their catches. Jonas agrees grudgingly, knowing full well there are numerous schools of fish outside Braduk and Ithralia, but his people are too superstitious and fearful of the water to venture out and harvest it in an efficient manner. Thus, for now, he will rely on the 'generosity' of Tasunke to feed his growing people. It will perhaps be a necessary evil only for a while, as the orcs begin to understand how to manage grops more efficiently, and great farmlands spring up outside Braduk, Renegade Hill, Ithralia, Shazak, Hexam and other Clan cities, bringing in bountiful harvests of wheat and corn.

The settlement of Hezic'kul is founded where Argenteria once stood, and Thessa builds the city of Dendrom upon the ruins of Gaudium. Soon enough Grigori settlers will undoubtedly move in where Coombe View and Guell once were, and new battle lines will be drawn before the year is out.

In a stunning move, Thessa pre-empts Jonas and declares war upon him. Jonas, enraged, seizes Domir within weeks of the declaration, and the horde rouses itself to war anew!

[Thessa! That little sneaky elf! She has Fawns, but I think my Axemen are up to the task of crushing those. She has one insanely experienced Warrior running around in my back yard, but I can swamp him with Warriors. All in all I would've waited a little to go to war with her, but it's just as well we get it on now. Much like Keelyn, Thessa's leader trait 'Arcane' is only good once she starts bringing in spellcasting units, so I'm very happy to kill her off before she has a chance to do that. Anyway. Write more later, cheerio people!]

War of Leaves

Turns 220-260

Jonas Endain has come to realize that other cities than Braduk could benefit from a council of elders to advice the local high chief appointed by Jonas himself. He begins to code a formalized system for this, and his settlements obediently begin to adapt to the new system of Elder Councils. The war with the Ljosalfar however puts a sudden stop to those plans, and all petty concerns of domestic improvement are forgotten in favor of marshalling more troops for the horde.

Whether it is malignant spite and anger towards the Leaf-worshipping Ljosalfar, or merely pragmatic logic that drives him, Jonas begins to order the wholesale deforestation of the hills outside his cities, in favor of building countless of mines that bring forth a wealth of ore which is immediately turned to military usage, and many blades are forged thanks to Jonas' new industrialization initiative.

The conqueror of Domir, Thessa's elite warrior company, aggressively approaches the Clan settlement of Sorodh, north of Ithralia. They are stymied by the unexpectedly heavy defenses, mustered on Jonas' command when Thessa's envoys delivered the declaration of war. The elven war-company tries to maneuver boldly south towards Ithralia, but is cornered in the barren hills between Sorodh and Shazak and soon their bones litter the wasteland there.

Thessa mounts sporadic assaults on Hezic'kul, Hexam and Kabhalg. Jonas mounts an expedition to come to the aid of the orcs of Kabhalg, and in gratitude they pledge allegiance to his clan. The Clan of Deluoc soon follow their example, and for the first time ever all the lands south of Ljosalfar and Grigori are united under one ruler. Jonas Endain is now the master of a sprawling empire, and his armies are numerous and mighty. With the initial incursions of Thessa's soldiers into his territory dealt with in an aptly brutal fashion, he now looks north towards the forests of the Ljosalfar. Thessa meanwhile senses this shift in the fortunes of war and goes on the defensive. Tentative diplomatic feelers from Evermore meet with success, and the boy-king Cardith Lorda pledges his Kuriotates to the worship of the Fellowship, though he is not yet convinced to wage war against the Clan. Jonas, for his part, intends to crush the Ljosalfar before the monarch of the Kuriotates has the time to make up his mind.

With Jonas' imperative made clear to him, Warchief Rothgug takes the horde north and into Ljosalfar lands. The going is slow, his men must repeatedly be disciplined and waves of panic at being in the mysterious woodlands of the fey-kin quelled. But the advance never stalls entirely, and soon the horde descends upon Dendrom and leave nothing but ashes in their wake. They are joined by the tribes of the Coppertusk and the Bloodied Club, the only survivors of those who travelled from the far west after the debacle of the battle of Vetus.



In order to salvage a treasury that is beginning to grow dangerously thin, Jonas embarks on an attempt at organizing a more efficient system for the various tradesmen, grocers and merchants of his clan to come together and distribute their goods, to keep the commerce flowing. Though he knows it not, he is about to hit on a discovery that will revolutionize trade within his realm, and revitalize his failing economy. But he also does not know just how long it will take before he manages to put together this new system, and it will come to be a great source of frustration to him.

As predicted, Cassiel of the Grigori sees fit to exploit the vacuum created when the Balseraph empire crumbled, and his settlers swarm in and found several new cities. The city of Wutai is built upon the ruins of Coombe View, and shortly after its foundation it becomes the site of a great battle as vicious Fawns ambush Clan reinforcements, destroying the Bear and Bloodied Club tribes wholesale before Rothgug's horde manages to backtrack and scatter the fawns.

A new gold mine in the hills south of Sorodh brings in much-needed wealth to the Clan treasury, and also serves Jonas' purposes because the wealth can be used to silence the complaints of those chiefs who have begun to question the wisdom of battling a witch-queen such as Thessa on her home ground. Incense wafts from the crude temples Jonas has seen fit to raise in many of his cities, and the people of the Clan are reminded constantly that Jonas' wars are the will of Bhall, and that it is blasphemy to question this. Most orcs are bloodthirsty enough to be grateful that their overlord wishes constant war, and those that are not are kept quiet through one method or another. Thus the industry of the clan can be trusted to do its utmost to contribute to the war effort and keep the horde in the north supplied with fresh troops and weapons.

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From the northwest come troubling news, as spies and observers claim that Cassiel's government has grown far more militaristic than it has been before. It is almost as though the Grigori are preparing to go to war. But with whom..? Jonas is suspicious of these godless wretches, but Cassiel's diplomacy has always been reasonably friendly, and so he wonders if it might be Hannah of the Lanun who will taste Grigori steel. Nevertheless, the garrison at Hexam is bolstered to withstand assault in the event of Grigori treachery. But the most disturbing set of news travel from Ithralia, where the faith of the Octopus Overlords has spread among his people. Some pay homage to the devils of the seas alongside their divine mistress Bhall, but many have forsaken her completely. Even in his rage, Jonas knows he cannot afford to do what his strongest desire is and simply level the city for the impudence of its people. He needs Ithralia and her mines, and so he bides his time for now. But he makes a point of burning every emissary of the Overlords that takes the effort to travel to Braduk in hopes of convincing Jonas to turn his people fully over to the cold, wet embrace of the Overlords.



In a bid to fill the treasury with spoils of war and stolen loot, Rothgug forges ahead and advances deeper into Ljosalfar lands. They come upon the city of Hyll, which is holy to the Ljosalfar as the founding place of their religion. It is defended accordingly, and Rothgug curses bitterly even as he gives swift orders to his warchiefs, and the horde veers sharply east. They come upon the city of Bruti, a majestic metropolis built under, and in the mighty ancient trees that the elves revere so. The city is not so well defended as Hyll, and Rothgug gives the order to assault. Things look set for a vicious fight as Rantine leads the vanguard of the ferocious tribes of Three-Spear, Dark Sky and Iron-Claw. But at the last minute a great cheer goes up from the ramparts of Bruti, and it soon becomes apparent why as arrows fired so swiftly and with such murderous precision as to be almost supernatural begins to strike down the advancing orcs. They die in droves, pierced through the heart, throat or eye by arrows fired by a single elf stood valiantly upon the defensive works around Bruti. With the heroic example set by Gilden Silveric, champion of the Seelie court, the elves fought back with a vengeance, and the horde is soon forced to break off the assault before they are all slaughtered. Rothgug, though incensed by this humiliating defeat, is a calculating war-leader and aborts the attack while only the weaker, inexperienced tribes have committed, and lost, their warriors. He withdraws his hardened core of seasoned troops and begins to lead them on a march towards softer targets, or back out of the Ljosalfar lands if need be.
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As Rothgug marches south, sacking the city of Eodd as he goes, Jonas finalizes his idea to ensure that there shall be a central place in every Clan settlement where tradesmen can meet and exchange their goods in an organized fashion. The concept of the Market catches on fast and soon every city flying the banner of Embers sports one, bringing in wealth previously unimagined to the treasury coffers in Braduk the Burning. And not a week too late, as the treasury was emptied out save for the few spoils that Rothgug managed to tear from the elves.



As Jonas Endain and Thessa take stock of their losses and draw up new plans for the continued war, both of their nations square their shoulders and look to their resolve to continue the bloodshed. Both have suffered mighty losses, but Jonas rightly surmises that Thessa has a harder time keeping her people satisfied. She has seen her cities burn as the orcs of Embers march through them, and her armies and their woodland allies have suffered terrible losses. Whereas Jonas' people are used to constant warfare, the elves are not, and at home they begin to waver, wondering if peace is not preferable to this war. This war that they know their leaders started..

[Well, today's writing wasn't very inspired. Feh. I blame the fact that I'm kind of sleepy while playing. Maybe that explains my near-disaster with the economy. Though in reality I know very well it was because I went bonanza with Rantine and converted too many cities. The temptation, it got the better of me! In any case, we shall see what lies in wait for next time..]

The Forests Burn

Turns 260-295

The warhorde, still commander by warchief Rothgug of the Three-Spear tribe and championed by Rantine, continues south and withdraws unopposed to Hezic'kul to re-supply, recruit fresh bodies to replace the warriors of tribes annihilated by the elven defense of Bruti. Meanwhile envoys from Tasunke of the Hippus enact a dizzying array of mercantile wheelings and dealings, making and breaking deals as they see fit. A rich supply of goods travel from Hippus lands, but the orc elders in charge of managing the business relations of the Clan are frustrated by the Hippus' inability to decide which trade agreements they endorse and which they do not want, as it seems to change as often as the seasons do.

Thessa mounts raids towards Hexam and Kabhalg, but they are swiftly struck down, although the one outside Hexam terrorizes the woodlands for months, Fawns appearing from out of the depths of the forests to assault search parties and cut them down in mere seconds, leaving ghastly mutilated findings for the next tribe to come looking for them, only to add the remains of that tribe to the first even before the orcs realize the trap is sprung. But in the end sheer numbers win out and the horde overwhelms the terror of Hexam woods.

In a cunning attempt to find something that will turn the tide of the war, because Jonas Endain has no desire to be patient and wait for popular opinion at home to turn against Thessa, the settlement of Pain is founded along the great river that runs from the ruins of Jubilee down to the sea at Deluoc. Pain is small and lacks bountiful grazing grounds or fertile soil. But near Pain is a rich vein of copper that the original Fegh's Band discovered many long years ago. With such plentiful access to good ore, Jonas surmises that his foundries and blacksmiths would produce axes and spearheads of a much sturdier quality than before. All the better to cleave elven flesh and bones.

The domestic situation in the Clan improves steadily as the new markets bring in measures of gold previously unimagined by orc treasurers. New systems of domesticating animals, improved fishing and even a basic pretense of education are all brought into effect. Jonas in his wisdom begins to found lesser settlements to bring in further tax and trade to fill his war coffers. The fact that the followers of Kilmorph manage to gain a foothold in the city of Hexam is news received with less satisfaction, but despite their heathen ways, it cannot be denied that the faithful of the Runes are diligent hard-working souls who bring profit and honest labor to their city, and so they are grudgingly tolerated.

The sun god Lugus, bringer of light and wisdom, is a topic on the lips of many foreigners visiting Clan lands to trade with them. It is said that worship of him has arisen anew, and speculations are many as to what effect this new faith shall have on the mortals of Erebus. To Jonas, however, it is simply yet another foolish set of beliefs that will at the end of the day have to wiped out to accomodate the ascension of Bhall.

A fierce battle stands at Hezic'kul, but Thessa's generals have dearly underestimated the readiness of Rothgug's horde. They have assumed the withdrawal from Ljosalfar lands was because the horde was not fit to fight any more, and that even reinforced by the tribes at Hezic'kul it is too small too resist a concerted attack. General Fae'lwan, Thessa's chief advisor and old friend of Gilden Silveric himself, leads the assault. Countless Fawns, vengeful for the desecration of their forests at the hands of the horde, pour out of the woods to assist the elven invasion. They descend upon Hezic'kul in great numbers, and by the time the battle is finished, the amount of dead woodland creatures littering the muddy fields beneath the hills upon which the Clan settlement stands are in such numbers that not even the most sage minds of the orcs are capable of enough mathematics to count them all.
A second push is mounted not long thereafter, but it meets with the same fate.

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At Hezic'kul a new people make contact with the Clan, and though at first it is mostly rowdy sailors gone ashore from the caravels resting off shore, soon enough more formal diplomatic contact is struck. The envoys are all tall, pale of skin and fine of limb, yet move in a way that removes any notion of them being harmless or dandified. There is something predatory about him, which Jonas both approves of and worries about. All diplomatic sessions are held at night as per the guests preference, and the Priest-King of Bhall is certain that his guests are not the simple mortal men and women they look like. His eye will be on them in the future, and even though relations are good he trusts them little.


In Deluoc an orc elder by the name of Asher gains much renown as a great sage of his age. He is fond of being called Asher the Encephalic, and very few orcs indeed understand the joke therein. After devising a number of ingenious theories and solutions which improve many aspects of life in Deluoc and bring fame to the orcs of that settlement, he is summoned before Jonas Endain in Braduk. Many whisper that he will never be seen beyond the walls of the palace again, and that Jonas is enraged by envy at his wisdom, feeling threatened by a mind of such intelligence. But instead Jonas holds a great conclave with his council of elders, and Asher as the guest of honor. Therein they discuss how best to apply the keen mind of the Great Sage for the benefit of the Clan. And before long, construction has begun of a great hall in Braduk where Asher shall teach the greatest and most promising wise men and women of the Clan. Though more civilized races scoff at the idea of orcish education, and patronizingly refer to the 'great Academy of Braduk', the effect this decision has will reverberate throughout generations. In time, when Asher's strength fails him and age finally claims his, many of his students, wise sages in their own right, will continue his great undertaking, and the institution remains. It has a great impact upon the development of Jonas' Clan-nation.
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At Hexam a great warhost musters under the leadership of Hrolg Scarskin, and it marches north to attack the elven city of Khandar from the south while Rothgug and Rantine assault it from the east. The horde lead by the Scarskin tribe acquit themselves well when battle is joined, routing an elven host that ambushes them along the wooded paths on the way towards Khandar.

Rumors travel from the far west of the continent that the Barbarian King Orthus has been slain, that his life ended in the Clan hold of Hyol. But accounts go apart as to whether it was the men of the Bannor or the Lanun that ended the great warlord. Some even say it was the Sidar, but those close to Jonas chuckle wryly at such stories, knowing the Sidar to be tenacious, but ultimately far too weak to mount such a great campaign against real orcs, even those disorganized and feral tribes who do not owe allegiance to Jonas.


At this time word travels that merchant sailors of the Khazad nation, in their never-ending greedy quest to find new nations to do trade with and more far-flung resources to add to their own brimming coffers, have sailed around the world and proven that it is in fact round. Though many wonder what dwarves are doing on the sea, now no one can doubt that their maritime skills are impressive. The most vociferous opponent of these stories is Hannah the Iron, and her Lanun subjects. But though their resentment is great, they too worship Kilmorph, and peace is maintained between the two peoples.

An unusually beneficial negotiation leads to improved relations with the people of the Grigori, as Cassiel and Jonas agree to exchange some of the secrets of their people. Scholars from the Grigori bind themselves by oath to teach the art of making and modifying maps and charts at the 'academy' of Braduk, and in return Jonas agrees to lend a number of his hardened warleaders to show the Grigori military and people how warfare can be a thing used not only to chastise one's enemies or defend the sovereignity of the nation, but also to entertain the people. Jonas is pleased to keep Cassiel a friend, for now, but the good relationship cools a little when the fallen angel incorrectly thinks that Jonas is now so close a friend that he can request knowledge to be given for free. Jonas refuses, and Cassiel is deeply disappointed.
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At Khandar the horde overwhelms the defenses with only minor losses despite the hardy resistance of a Ljosalfar archer company bolstering the citizen's militia, and after the battle Rantine savagely displays the mangled corpse of the elven commander who stood in defiance of the Clan on a pole. She will continue to serve as the personal banner of Jonas' own champion throughout the rest of the campaign. It serves as a stark warning to those who think they can stand before the horde and challenge it.
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A Trial of Champions


With the concept of education becoming stronger in the Clan society, Jonas' warleaders begin to institute a new system that all the tribes are quick to adopt. Whereas before all the experience an orc would get was that of fights he got himself into, now older warriors take upon themselves to apprentice the younger tribesmen and teach them a thing or two, ensuring that they are not only armed with youthful enthusiasm and the wild bloodthirst of any good orc, but also practical experience, even before their first real battle.


Worship of the Dragons of old, of the fallen god-angels in Hell, and of the God Esus, the shadowy prince of treachery and intrigue, surfaces in Erebus during this time, but for now it is a small thing compared to what is about to happen, that shall shake the foundations of reality.



With the elven army reeling under the onslaught of the marching horde, Jonas gives an order that not even old experienced warriors such as Rothgug, Rantine, Jargan of the Dark Sky tribe, and Hrolg Scarskin would have expected. But they see the wisdom of the decision, even as they see the madness of it. The warhorde has swollen to sizes no orc ever witnessed before. The very ground trembles where it treads, and the swath of destruction it leaves behind is immense. It is the greatest host of warriors ever assembled on the face of Erebus since the Age of Magic ended. And Jonas wishes his great army to silence the Song of Autumn. He wishes to uproot the holiest grove of the Fellowship of Leaves. He desires to desecrate the holy place of the woodland faith, and he wishes the city of Hyll to burn as an sacrifice to Bhall. With his blessing, the warhorde marches.

[This is very likely going to be the last installment of this story that I write before I go on vacation, unfortunately. It isn't going to be the last chapter ever written, I shouldn't think, but I also doubt I'll have a chance to play any Fall From Heaven while I'm abroad. Much as I doubt I'll have time to write any more tonight, since I need to pack and prepare. Though it is fiendishly tempting.. Just one more turn..
In any case, anyone who's read my ramblings this far deserves a cookie for it. Unfortunately since I burned all my money on a vacation, I simply can't afford to be sending out anything except cookies baked on sympathy. So, enjoy! ]

Continue, please. You've kept me up past my bedtime tonight.
I wonder if it was any consolation to the Luchuirp that at least they were felled by refined, truffle & wine dining orcs?

Agreed, this is a REALLY well written story (and makes me further curse my luck that BtS refuses to work on my Korean version of Vista, curse it!). But at least I can still play the original Fall from Heaven! (which I'm considering writing up an AAR of my own for)

Looking forward to when you start this up again! And I wouldn't exactly call these refined orcs...but still. Waaaaagh!

thealien_83 said:

Let the Luchuirp burn!
They are dark of skin and foul of features. They dress in rags or furs, or nothing at all. They carry crude weapons, or none at all for their hands are wicked of claw and firm of muscle. They march in ragged bands or not at all, loping forward more like animals than men. They have leaders, but those are so only by merit of being more ferocious and large of body and not because they hold any leadership skills. They have ladders and crudely axed wooden logs to be used as rams, but no siege engines. They are crude and barbaric. They are Legion. They are the end of the world come to Ithralia.

Click to expand...

ewww... squirm...
you write REALLY well.
i havn't finished yet but i thought kudos were due.

Great Story.

Very well written

Good! Very well done!

Wow.

Preen my ego a little bit more and I'll never finish writing this story because my head will have bloated up so much as to make me float up to the ceiling and not reach my keyboard. *laughs*

I'm sorry about the long absence of leave here, but for a number of reasons I've not had a great deal of time to devote to FFH, even less to a somewhat time-consuming project like this story. But I hope to amend that in the very near future.

Even more so since I told myself I'd finish this before patching to 0.31, and I'm looking forward to that as well!

So hopefully those of you who enjoyed reading this, there should be new updates before too long.

The Great War

Turns 295-315

Jonas' dreams of religious genocide are to be shortlived. His great warhorde has only just begun to march to the beating of thousands of wardrums when calamity befalls the lands of the Clan, and scores of runners from the holds to the south begin to stumble into the camps of the horde, short of breath and all but dead of exhaustion from their long treks. Jonas demands that every able warrior from the loftiest warchiefs down to the lowliest youngblood turn and march south immediately.

In Braduk the 'court' of Jonas Endain is in chaos. No fewer than four nations have declared a war upon the Clan, intent on striking at it while it is distracted by its war with the Ljosalfar. Some suggest that it was blasphemous of Jonas to suppose that he could destroy a faith, that he angered gods both old and powerful when he sought to lay low the holy city of Hyll. Others sagely point out that the men of Lanun and Hippus have something in common with the stout folk of the Khazad. Their worship of the goddess Kilmorph. It is greed, then, and nothing else that motivates them. Why Cassiel of the Grigori supposes to join this miserly crusade few know, but none doubt that Jonas plans a vengeance most foul for the Grigori, and even now mighty warbands begin to glower across the border towards Grigori settlements such as Wutai, Bon Birejji and Fort Condor in the old lands of the Balseraph.

Of more immediate concern however is the massive army Tasunke had marched across the border and threatens Hexam with. Jonas remains silent on the issue, allowing his warchiefts and elders to muster what defenses they may, but the great Priest himself has nothing to say about it. Some suggest that he has already written the city off as lost and intends instead to look towards exacting a most cruel vengeance for the loss of it.

Shortly after the Hippus invasion has begun, Sandalphon of the Sidar joins, undoubtedly eager for vengeance for the destruction the great march of the horde wrought upon his lands years ago, and to show his camaraderie with the other followers of the Runes. With the massive army of Tasunke battering down the defences of Hexam, the addition of the Sidar seems a small, trifling matter indeed. When finally word of the fall of Hexam travels to Jonas, he beats the messenger half to death and secludes himself in his great hall for a full two days, refusing to meet with anyone. Meanwhile armies gather as the warchiefs of the clan send troops stem the tide of the incursion while Rothgug and Rantine rush the great warhorde southwards to retake Hexam. The burning of the Grigori township of Bon Birejji is little but a footnote to their great march.



Thessa, ever the opportunist, chooses this time to launch renewed attacks south from her lands, harrying the borders of the Clan and threatening the previously unassailable stronghold of Hezic'kul.

Dark tidings strike at the Clan of Embers from all sides, but even as doomsayers begin to howl that the favor of Bhall has left them, clawing bloody gouges into their flesh and frothing at the mouth as they predict despair and doom a hundredfold for the nation of the orcs, the warhorde is fast approaching Hexam and the warchiefs with Rothgug are drawing up plans for the decisive battle, while Rantine sharpens his axes and waits.

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Tasunke demonstrates aptly why he is thought of as a bold, great general throughout the land, and why a warlike people like the Hippus would follow him. Moving with a mobility unimaginable to the orcs, his cavalry strikes out across the land and travels over the very roads the slaves and peons of the Clan have erected for their own troops and merchants to use. Moving swiftly from Hexam he attacks Pain, hoping to cripple the warmachine of the Clan by removing the precious copper which it used to forge heavy bronze weaponry. But the spirited defense of Pain sees this bold initiative reduced to naught, and the mocking cries of the warbands follow the retreating horsemen. Their cheers are shortlived, however, as a second wave of horsemen hit the city mere months later, capturing it and slaying all the defenders.

Farther west a great battle takes place, and the city of Hexam once more changes owners. Many great tribes and warbands earn eternal glory and renown as they wade in the blood of their enemies and adorns their battle standards with grisly trophies taken from the fallen Hippus warriors. The faith of Kilmorph is battered and bloodied at the battle, as countless Soldiers of Kilmorph are destroyed. Many warriors of the warhorde are lost as well, but the survivors are either fiercely battle-hardened formations such as the tribes of Iron-Claw, Dark Sky, and the infamous Three-Spear. Others are newly baptized in bloodletting but no less vicious for it.

At Hezic'kul another assault of the Ljosalfar is beaten back. In their own forests the elves are a fearsome foe, able to strike from the cover of the woods and melt back before battle can be met, and their archers have grown eerily keen at picking off approaching orc warriors from atop their palissades and city walls. But when striking out at their enemies in turn, the soldiers Thessa sends against the strongholds of the Clan are somewhat lacking, and even the normally hardy Fawn are out of their element launching attacks upon fortified settlements.

Launching a rapid assault from an unexpected angle across the mighty river, lizardmen allies of the Clan quickly retake Pain despite the elite Hippus unit defending it, and the vital flow of copper is restored. A new respect for the lizardmen begins to grow in the warhorde, and warleaders with a measure of cunning and foresight begin to appreciate the uses of their scaly allies as something other than just feeble cannon fodder to be thrown blindly against their foes instead of their own warriors. It bodes well for the future of the warhorde, and ill for its enemies.

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A second battle of Hexam stands before even the embers of the first have burnt themselves out, and the cost of the battle is dire, though yet again the Clan of Embers stands victorious. A great funeral pyre sees one of the great leaders of the warhorde sent to the afterlife, with an honor guard of his slain bodyguards burnt alongside him.

Fall of a Hero


Strange courtiers from far afield circulate like vultures in the court of Braduk this year. The gossip concerning Alexis' ambassadors had only just died down when these strange beings, whom Jonas' councilors advise him are no men at all but stranger beings by far, come to bring word from Hyborem, the lord of Dis and dark lord of the Infernals. Many are surprised at the curt interest Jonas shows in these strange ambassadors, having thought that he might see these infernals as a means of communing with Bhall. But then, others say, is not Jonas the Priest-King of the Clan? Why should he need to speak through someone, much less a demon.

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Amidst all the doom and gloom that wracks the empire of the orcs as commerce fails them and foreign nations refuse to send their ships to do trade, and hostile armies tread their soil with frightening frequency, there are those who refuse to bow down. From the halls of Clan Domir in the south the prophet Mag Tuireadh preaches with rhetorics fiery enough to reputedly make even Jonas Endain smile. He undertakes a great march from Domir to Braduk to present himself before the holy Priest King of the Clan, and a veritable army of zealots march with him. Once he arrives in Braduk the Burning, there are those who whisper that Jonas will have him killed so as to show that he brooks no challenge in his aspect as Bhall's mouthpiece. The truth, as it turns out, is far less brutal, for once. Jonas embraces Mag as a brother and bids him go forth in his city and speak the word, to rouse the masses to new levels of fervor that they might work harder and tithe better. The deep, vibrant voice of the new prophet becomes a common feature on the squares and gathering places of the capitol of the Clan.

In a much debated diplomatic move, Jonas entreats Thessa for peace. Much to the surprise of a people where the youths have grown up knowing only war with their fey neighbors, the witch queen of the northern forests accepts. Wiser minds point out that the Ljosalfar will be back, no doubt. And even if they do not break the peace, Jonas surely will before long, when his back is free once more. And Thessa undoubtedly knows this, but for know the bond of honor binds the two leaders to keep the peace they promised, and so the horde can focus on their other enemies. And just as well, for they are legion..

Yet another new faith spreads in the lands far beyond the territories of the Clan. Men speak of this new 'Order', supposedly a worship to stand in the face of the darkness that is the Ashen Veil, but Jonas has little care for a faith which is not his own, and that which is yet powerless in all the lands near his demesne. Perhaps in the future he shall come to have an opinion on the men of the Order, but as yet it means little to him.

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Outside Hezic'kul the warhorde intercepts a massive Grigori army, and a hard-fought pitched battle claims lives on both sides, including the brave warriors of the Dark Sky tribe and their warchief Jargan. Jonas' horde can ill afford to lose any more of its experienced battle leaders or hardened warbands. Even so, despite the size and ferocity of the battle, it is just another massacre on an ever-growing list of the great battles fought across the borderlands of the Clan in these desperate times.



A Hippus army is defeated near Hexam, only to see the city fall to opportunistic Grigori raiders after the battle, only to see it in turn be recaptured by an orc warband marching north to join the battles raging at the borders. Cassiel bows out of the war after that incident, but still the nations of the Hippus, the Lanun, the Khazad and the Sidar all have it out for the Clan and despite the fact that only Tasunke of the Hippus sends his armies forth as yet, the war continues to rage bitterly.

[Whew. Okay. Not so many turns. It's been a little hard to re-connect with this game after I left it to dry for so long. Lesson learned. Especially when trying to write a story as well as play a game, long breaks of inactivity is not a good thing. And right now I'm taking a pretty fierce pounding too, though ironically my biggest problem is once again my economy. Twice the irony is that every time I lose Hexam the economic strain eases up, so perhaps I should just let the Hippus have it. But my pride says no. And my orcs just want to scrap, so that settles the issue for me! In any case, hopefully I can get the feel for this game again and see it through to the end, but time will tell. Perhaps I'll fall for the temptation and move on to a new game in FFH 0.31 (this one being played in an older version of .30). We shall see!]