Three Months Ago, Somewhere in Brightcliffe, Night
As the setting sun painted the skyline of Brightcliffe ablaze, Erobelle stood on her balcony, pensively fidgeting with her ring, and wondered what they had done to earn such misfortune.
The Baron was an immature, short-sighted, tattered mess that was spiraling towards utter destruction. His only focus and priority was on his precious gold. Trade tax revenue was down that’s all he wanted to talk about. He was too occupied with his financial losses to even look for a bigger picture.
Erobelle was not as short-sighted, however. The number of trade ships coming to port was in steady decline. The frequency of caravans from the other cities had dwindled to near nothingness. The people of the city started looking over their shoulders and avoiding the city guard. She struggled to recall a recent memory of someone smiling.
One of her little birds heard some distraught sailors speaking on the volatile temperament of the ocean as of late. They kept going on about the “sea boiling as the great serpent wakes.” They spoke of earthquakes in the northern mountains, of dark omens, and that they should carry extra gold whenever they set sail in hopes of buying the mercy of the Tide-Mother.
She herself had seen the eruption of the island volcano from the Eastern cliffside. A living mountain that slept for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, was dormant no longer. Occasionally, a strong eastern wind would carry the smell of burnt jungle and brimstone as far as the city.
Another one of her contacts spoke of the townsfolk of Misthelm turning on one another, as if they had gone mad. She searched the market ledgers for the last trader caravan to come from Misthelm. It had been quite some time.
On top of all that, there were these disappearances within Brightcliffe’s walls. The people were scared and she was starting to understand why. The Baron’s self-centered “solution” hardly made it any better. The city was buzzing with fear and doubt. She was afraid that the people would begin to doubt their government as well as their gods.
She thought of the religious tomes she had studied in the capital libraries. The depictions of Jormungandr the World Serpent and the symbology of his awakening troubled her. She thought of the references to mass hysteria and the devils of hell crawling up out of the earth. She thought of the tales of the great storms. Could it all be real? Could Ragnarok really happen?
She spun her ring on her finger nervously and thought to herself, “What in the world have we done to earn such misfortune?”
Erobelle looked down at the street below her balcony to see a hooded figure clinging to the shadows.
“This is odd,” Erobelle thought to herself. “I hadn’t requested a meeting with this contact.”
She watched as a raven soared down from the rooftops and landed on the hooded figure’s arm. After a moment, the raven took off once again and flew high into the night sky before swooping down to roost on the ledge of her balcony. The raven tilted its head, looking at Erobelle impatiently.
“Yes, yes of course,” said Erobelle. “The moon is brightest when the clock tolls midnight. You may proceed.”
And so the raven did.
“Urgent. Danger level: Alpha. Whitemane of Karstaag arrived with news. Seawood, destroyed. Roseport, destroyed. An army marches toward Brightcliffe.”
Erobelle felt her stomach turn into knots. “Did we confirm-“ she started to ask before the bird cut her off.
“Claim validated internally. Army will arrive in a fortnight.” the bird squawked.
“SHIT. I have to see this for myself,” Erobelle cursed before grabbing her cloak and running off into dark of night. For the first time in a long time, she was truly scared.
Days Later in the Capital Throne Room
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I MUST BE TELLING STORIES? NIDAVELLIR IS ON FIRE. AN ARMY MARCHES ON BRIGHTCLIFFE. WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING.” Erobelle screamed at the Baron.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Brightcliffe is the crown jewel of the Gold Coast. The gods would not let anything happen to our haven” the Baron replied.
Erobelle placed a finger on her temple and began to concentrate on a spell. Slowly, a blood-red ribbon of arcane energy began to wisp out of her temple until it began to coil in the palm of her other hand. As soon as it was finished, she marched over to the Baron, snatched his hand, and clasped it down on the arcane ribbon. “See for yourself,” Erobelle said, exasperatedly.
She watched as the Baron’s face went pale white. For once, the greedy fool did not have a snide retort.
“I never thought I’d say this,” the Baron trembled. “But you’re right. We must assemble our forces. Brightcliffe may be all that is left to defend.”
One Week Later, North of Brightcliffe
Erobelle looked across the field at what was most certainly the most horrible sight she had ever witnessed. Merely 1,000 feet away stood a massive army of nightmarish beasts - all lead by the army of Castle Hendraheim. At it’s crest was none other than Julian Seeder himself.
She asked herself the same question she had thought about for weeks.
“What in the world have we done to earn such misfortune?”
She watched as the Baron mounted his horse in his ridiculous armor. The man had never seen a battle in his life. Yet he insisted on this egotistical dog-and-pony. Her stomach twisted into knots as he began to ride toward the middle of the battlefield. Seeder did the same, with what appeared to be a young magic-wielder at his side.
She watched for what felt like an eternity until the three met in the middle of the battlefield. After a few moments, she saw the Baron lift his hand as if to wag a finger at Seeder condescendingly, bright purple flash of light erupts from the magic-wielder’s staff, and the Baron is frozen in place. Erobelle watched in disbelief as Seeder drew his longsword, held it to the paralyzed Baron’s throat, and cut his head clean off.
The next ten seconds were the last moments before everything went sideways. The Baron’s head hit the ground, bounced, and rolled to a stop on the ground. Someone behind her yelled and a chorus of war cries yelled back in response. Soldiers began to run past her on both sides. She is knocked to the ground as a soldier runs into her during the charge.
The ground felt warm in between her fingers as she tried to clear her mind enough to think. She could hear her heart beating loudly in her head like a war drum. She could hardly breathe. Her hands were trembling.
It had begun.
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