The Empire of the Undefeated Legions sprawled across the horizon, a testament to strength and resilience etched in stone and steel. Its borders stretched far and wide, a formidable barrier against the encroaching forces of chaos and uncertainty. Within its vast expanse lay fertile lands and thriving communities, each contributing to the empire's enduring might.
At the heart of this sprawling dominion stood the capital city, a marvel of engineering and ingenuity that bore the weight of centuries with quiet dignity. Its towering walls and sturdy fortifications spoke of a people unyielding in the face of adversity, their resolve mirrored in the city's bustling streets and bustling markets. Here, amidst the clamor of commerce and the hum of daily life, the spirit of the empire thrived, an unwavering beacon of order and prosperity.
Yet, beneath the facade of tranquility, there lurked an unspoken truth. For within the walls of the capital city, there was no need for guards or soldiers, no cries of alarm or shouts of defiance. The empire's strength lay not only in its military prowess but also in the unity and discipline of its people. Together, they formed an unbreakable bond, a bulwark against the chaos that threatened to engulf the world beyond.
As the sun set on the horizon, casting long shadows across the city's streets, the empire stood as a testament to the enduring power of unity and resilience. In the face of uncertainty and adversity, it remained steadfast and unyielding, a beacon of hope in a world fraught with peril.
Inside a very large War tent.
High-Emperor Augustus Aurelius Thedius, the First stood at the head of the table, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the gathered council. His furrowed brow betrayed a mix of confusion and frustration as he grappled with the enigma of the Dayseekers.
Around the table, twelve figures leaned in, their eyes fixed on Augustus as he spoke. They knew that the fate of their empire hung in the balance, and the High-Emperor's words carried the weight of urgency and concern.
The Dayseekers, a race of White Orcs, had emerged from the depths of the Deep Dark, catching the empire off guard with their ruthless tactics and ferocious onslaughts. Despite their seemingly primitive nature, these Orcs displayed a level of strategic cunning and martial prowess that defied explanation.
They swept across the northern landscape with relentless efficiency, laying waste to any who dared to oppose them. Their attacks were swift and precise, leaving no room for error or hesitation. And perhaps most unnerving of all, they seemed impervious to conventional forms of attack, their thick hides protecting them from harm.
For Augustus, a man of both martial prowess and strategic insight, the Dayseekers posed a formidable challenge unlike any he had faced before. Their motives remained shrouded in mystery, their actions defying all logic and reason. And as the High-Emperor surveyed the maps spread out before him, he knew that the fate of the empire rested on his ability to unravel the mystery of the Dayseekers and devise a plan to defeat them.
"Why would they do this? What is their purpose?" High-Emperor Aurelius posed the question to the gathered council, his gaze shifting from the shaky 'living' map before him.
The map, a creation of Reynard Brilati, a defector from the noble line of Zadila, hovered in the air, displaying a spectral view of the battlefield. Reynard possessed a unique ability, unbeknownst to King Juniper, which had proved invaluable in their military endeavors. His spectral servant provided a bird's eye view of the battlefield, granting a strategic advantage to those who possessed it. However, its effectiveness diminished with distance, resulting in the shaky image displayed before them.
With a wave of his hand, Aurelius dismissed the map, and Reynard took a small breath, his demeanor betraying a hint of apprehension despite the presence of allies and friends. In the presence of his lord and top General Agore, Reynard hesitated to show any sign of weakness.
With a cough, a squat man with burly hair and thick arms stepped forward, his voice resonating with a pitch below shrill.
"Majesty," he began, addressing High-Emperor Aurelius, "perhaps they are after something specific? Maybe a person or thing that some kingdom possesses?" His suggestion hung in the air, prompting a thoughtful silence among the council members.
Another man's voice sliced through the air, laced with disdain. "Abrasus, you fool, have you not been paying attention at all?" His words dripped with condescension, setting the stage for a clash of intellects.
Abrasus, stung by the rebuke, attempted to defend himself. "Of course I've been paying atten—" But before he could finish, he was abruptly cut off by the relentless critique.
"Then you would know that they have not been investigating for objects," the man continued, his tone dripping with impatience. "They have no interest in storehouses or treasuries. They simply slay their enemies without care for the consequences, be it the afterlife or the families left behind." His words were a scathing indictment of Abrasus's ignorance.
High-Emperor Aurelius intervened, his voice a calm but authoritative force that quelled the rising tension. With a simple gesture, he silenced the bickering, reminding them of the importance of constructive criticism and unity in the face of uncertainty.
"Ynan, please refrain from the insults," Aurelius interjected, his voice firm but measured, brooking no further dissent. Yet, there was a subtle undercurrent of disappointment in his tone, a silent reprimand for the unnecessary hostility.
Turning his attention to Abrasus, the High Emperor continued with a sense of patience, seeking to foster an atmosphere of collaboration. "Given the information that has been restated for you, what do you think is a possible reason behind their apparent expansion?" His words carried a gentle but unmistakable encouragement, inviting Abrasus to contribute his insights to the discussion. As he spoke, Aurelius's gaze bore into Abrasus, silently urging him to rise to the occasion and prove his worth.
Feeling the weight of Aurelius's gaze upon him, Abrasus paused, his mind racing as he sifted through his thoughts. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, his voice measured but tinged with uncertainty. "Perhaps," he began, choosing his words carefully, "they adhere to some form of fanatical belief in a pursuit of purity." Despite his initial hesitation, Abrasus's voice gained confidence as he continued, his words taking on a newfound clarity and conviction. Emboldened by the opportunity to contribute to the discussion, he elaborated on his theory, drawing upon his knowledge and insights to offer a potential explanation for the Dayseekers' actions.
Aurelius's brow furrowed in thought as he considered Abrasus's suggestion, his gaze shifting briefly to Agore, who remained silent behind his enigmatic mask. It was Agore who eventually broke the silence, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. The mask obscured his expression, leaving only his piercing eyes visible, their intensity magnified by the shadows cast upon his face. "Do you expect me to believe that these... Orcs are blood purists?" Agore's words resonated with skepticism, his tone betraying a hint of incredulity. His question hung in the air, challenging the notion put forth by Abrasus. Despite the uncertainty of his words, there was an undeniable authority in Agore's voice, a commanding presence that demanded attention and respect. As his voice echoed through the tent, some instinctively recoiled, unsettled by the intensity of his demeanor. Indeed, Agore's voice was a force to be reckoned with, leaving an indelible impression on all who heard it.
Despite the imposing presence of Agore, Abrasus stood his ground, though a flicker of apprehension danced in his eyes as he spoke. He avoided meeting Agore's gaze directly, a superstition ingrained deep within him, yet his words carried a hint of defiance. "With how little we actually know of their language, and how their tribes operate," Abrasus began, his voice tinged with a trace of uncertainty, "I don't find it difficult to believe that they might have certain fanatics among them, extremists if you might call them." His tone wavered slightly, betraying the underlying fear that lingered beneath his bravado. "Who knows, those fanatics may be chieftains for all we know," he concluded, his words trailing off as he cast a wary glance in Agore's direction, reluctant to provoke further scrutiny.
Agore's imposing figure seemed to swell with disbelief as he considered Abrasus's words. His usual stoic demeanor faltered for a moment, his black eyes narrowing thoughtfully behind the mask that obscured his features. "I don't know whether to be surprised that you said something smart," Agore began, his voice carrying a faint hint of grudging admiration, "or the fact that what you said could be true." His words hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of his contemplation. Despite his towering stature, there was a subtle vulnerability in Agore's demeanor, a rare moment of uncertainty that hinted at the gravity of Abrasus's insight.
Aurelius's voice carried a blend of amusement and seriousness as he addressed the council. "That could be a reason, yes, but it could also not be," he remarked, his tone thoughtful yet tinged with a hint of irony. "We won't know for sure unless we speak with them." His gaze swept over the assembled figures, each one bearing the weight of the discussion. "Unfortunately, due to their slaughter of countless kingdoms, I find myself unwilling to entertain them, nor risk the lives of our men." There was a somberness in his words, a recognition of the grim reality they faced in the wake of the Dayseekers' relentless onslaught.
As the discussion hung in the air, a sudden disturbance interrupted their deliberations. One of their own, a woman, stumbled forward, her eyes glazed and distant, her complexion pallid and clammy. A hush fell over the tent as she struggled to regain her composure, her breaths shallow and uneven, her face etched with palpable distress.
Nearby, a man named Shamus sprang into action, swiftly moving to support her trembling form. "Sister! Are you alright? Majesty! It's one of her visions." With a firm grip, he steadied her, his presence a stabilizing force amidst the uncertainty. "I knew you shouldn't have come! This place only brings torment to you." It was clear that he was more than just a fellow council member; he was her protector, bound by blood and duty to shield her from harm.
Aurelius's concern was evident as he addressed Aurn, his voice tinged with urgency and apprehension. "Aurn, are you alright? What have you sensed?"
Aurn's response was fraught with vulnerability, her words trembling and fragile, barely audible above a whisper. "I've felt the encroaching End," she murmured, her voice heavy with foreboding. The gravity of her revelation sent a collective shiver down the spines of those gathered. "I've sensed the tumultuous dance of chaos and order, the eerie silence that precedes creation. It's the echo of prophecy, foretelling the impending doom of Zadila and all life within it. My lord, we may not survive the trials that lie ahead."
Abrasus's question hung heavy in the air, echoing the uncertainty that gripped the hearts of all present. "What should we do? What can we do, my lord?" he implored, his voice laced with desperation.
Shamus quickly spoke, "Shut up Abrasus, its likely that we can't do much, other than to secure our nation."
Before Aurelius could formulate a response, Aurn interjected, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "The prophecy mentions a man—a child of Nephilim—and a figure who may yet hold the key to our salvation," she revealed, her words adding another layer of complexity to the already dire situation.
Aurelius spoke, having found his words, "Hard times approach us, we must prepare. Send word to the Fourth and Fifth Legions to return to Khazdos. Tell the Sixth and Seventh to watch the Mountain paths to the east and south, and tell the Eight Legion to guard the western rivers. The First, Second, and Third will prepare for the March on the Dayseekers." Aurelius commanded relaying orders for the legions commanders. "We must crush the threat, before the impending doom crushes Fearn."
With that, the council was adjourned, and one by one, the attendees dispersed, leaving only Aurelius, Agore, and Aurn behind. Aurn proceeded to divulge every detail of her vision to her lord, leaving no stone unturned in her recounting of the ominous portents she had witnessed. Soon after, Agore and Aurn departed, their solemn expressions betraying the weight of their newfound knowledge.
Alone in the war tent, Aurelius penned a missive, its contents a cryptic message intended for the scholars of Khazdos. In it, he tasked them with the formidable challenge of deciphering the enigmatic visions foretold by Aurn, hopeful that their scholarly wisdom might shed light on the dark omens that loomed on the horizon.