Kings of War International Campaign Day

Setup for Scenario 1C: The forces under Cathius’s command have begun the final push. The Shining Lord sits clutching the shard of the Fenulian Miirror tightly to his chest, as if terrified that something would take it from him. As they approach once more the edge of the Abyss where their proud city still stands, albeit a far more decrepit in nature, Cathius dispatches his foreward scouts to secure the advance through which the forces of Good will storm in order to attain the Obelisk. Cathius struggles to not show the desperation he feels as the small advance forces ride out from the gates of the city. He struggles even more to quiet the growing whispers in his mind that call out to him of his impending doom at the hands of his twin. Across the divide and at the base of the Obelisk, Urz’Rael plots his revenge for the ignominious defeat he received from his twin on the Ardovikian plain. Taking more of the same cursed stone with which he made up his Obelisk, he begins to construct sm

Urz’Rael stares out over the bending grass as it ripples in the wind. A peaceful calm has settled across the Ardovikian Plain, especially in comparison with the rest of the world, but the Abyssal Lord knows that such is only an allusion as the smoke from several pyres breaks the horizon and soon the columns of evil warriors begin to smell the putrid sweetness of burning flesh. Piles of broken and bloodied orcs lie at the base of a massive wall that stretches as far as the eye can see in both directions, extending the height of the horizon and causing the wind to how as it blows harmlessly against the tailored stone. Urz’Rael stops his column of warriors a good distance away from the putrid funeral pyres and examines the options he sees before him. In the distance he can just make out the trail of dust being kicked up by his twin’s army coming in behind them. It won’t be long now until they arrive and the contest begins anew between these two figures of Shadow and Light. But for now,

Urz’Rael stares up at the walls of the still standing city before him. They mock him by their very existence and his fury swirls about him like red mists of shame. They had come so close! The forces of Good had been scattered before the might of his followers. They had scurried back behind the protection of their sad little walls and now both sides sat hardly any better than they had when the day had begun. The only difference being that the forces of Good had lost a significant portion of their troops in their foolhardy assault on the Obelisk and even now the blasted abomination was practically pulsating with the power drunk off the shed blood at its feet. Urz’Rael can feel the power flowing from his creation and he revels in it. It draws on the depths of the Abyss and calling out to legions of the damned far below, awakening demonic entities that have slept for eons gone by. Turning, Urz’Rael finds himself drawn to the Obelisk and it is not long before he stands beside it with his

The shuddering blasts rip through the foolish humans and their allies as the devices backfire on them in their foolhardy charge. In the ensuing mayhem the Evil warriors take advantage of the confusion to gut whatever enemy they can find. Blades flash in the smoky light of death as screams cry out and death rattles shake the nerves of all around them. Gleeful orcs, goblins, abyssals, and murderous men charge through the hazy field, slitting the throats of the fallen and shedding the blood of all those who attempt to stand in their way. Screams of the wounded and dying reach up to the heavens and are brutally silenced with the sounds of a falling hammer, or the wet gurgle of a blade parting a throat. Their prayers do them no good today. It is in this confusion that a small force of Light warriors is able to slip past the Evil battle lines and under the watchful gaze of Cathius they ride hard towards the seemingly undefended Obelisk. Cathius is no fool, he knows that the Obelisk is the g

Explosions rock the city and several buildings in the outer districts tumble under the ensuing tremors, but due to the decisive action of the defending commanders the vast majority of the city still stands and the attackers are being driven back, pursued hotly by the forces of good. In their haste the would be sappers swarm over the walls and flee back behind their own battle lines beyond the East Gate. Their flight causes mass confusion among their allies battering at the city’s outer defenses and in the disarray the army breaks and flees before the defender’s assault until the evil commanders are able to whip some semblance of order into the ranks and rally what forces they can to mount a counterattack against the now exposed forces of good who stand without their walls. In their excitement these warriors of Light have pursued the enemy beyond the safety of their walls and are forced to hastily erect battle lines in preparation of the anticipated assault coming from the enemy who ha

Despite a valiant defense, several of the enemy skirmishers are able to slip inside the defenses and gather within the city. While the battle rages outside the East Gate, still, the skirmishers slink about searching for their allies in order to form a more cohesive offensive against the city’s defenses. Too afraid to do anything to draw attention to themselves they spend so much time searching for each other that the defenders are able to rally a sizeable force to begin rooting out the interlopers before they can get a proper set of organization together. When at last the forces of evil are able to fully organize their defenses the defenders are more than prepared for them. As the army of evil advances from the center of the city, the figure of a ratkin warlock with several of his lackeys comes forward. Each one produces several complicated devices from beneath their robes and begins dispersing them among their forces. The way with which each warlock carries their devices suggests

The evening skies are alight with the fires of damnation as they spread across the lands. Evil is pressing its influence across the wastes surrounding the Abyssal cleft to the east, its infernal flames spreading up to taint the sky with a crimson hue that radiates a shallow heat which can be felt in the unseasonably warm temperatures that can be felt in the quickly dwindling summer. Autumn is coming on, but even though the leaves have long since fled from their branches, the nights are still uncomfortably warm and the coming harvest is clinging to dusty vines and withered stalks as farmhands have been called into the false sense of security that stone walls and armored sentries can provide. Little do they realize that hunger and desperation are just as deadly to a terrified population as the swords of the demons lying at their gates. Even now the cries of children that have been cooped up for far too long cry out in a wilted, keening song that fills the streets with its melanchol