The Fall of Sseth'Kellith

[Phantom Lamb]

Soldiers on horseback, armed with nothing but cowbells, raced through the towns and cities of Sundren. These were the fabled Bellriders--the swift riders of the Legion who are tasked to raise the alarm around the land in Sundren's most dire hours. The call was put out to all willing: the reptile army was advancing on Mirakus.

Scouts reported a full advancement on the military post. Sestra had been completely abandoned as the reptiles led a chaotic, twisting blitz on Mirakus. Inital attempts to negotiate with their leader, known simply as the Creator, were met with violence. No one knows why they abandoned Sestra on this crusade, but the Creator and his army were coming in an all out attack.

[Phantom Lamb]

Many answered the call in Mirakus. Adventurers from throughout the land arrived to support the Red Blades, Hands of Mundus, and the Legion. They had one purpose in mind: evacuate the Wart and save the citizens. The post was an important tactical position, but they simply did not have the numbers to keep it from an all out attack.

Scouts report there was some initial dissent--some of the lizards and naga refused to fight. Word in the Legion passed quickly--did their surprise assault on the Sestra crystals, reversing their corruptive effect, have an impact? Were the reptiles turning on themselves?

Unfortunately for the Legion, the dissent was too few and too easily destroyed. Those who would not fight were slain in front of their reptilian comrads. A giant, four-armed reptile--the Creator--chewed through them like a blade through water. His might was unquestionable, and he seemed impervious to both magic and blade. The remaining dissenters among the reptiles backed off, rejoining the ranks of their army. The Creator gave another signal, and the first wave was upon the post.

The Red Blades held the eastern gate, while the Legion manned the western waterfront. Adventurers solidified the ranks while Triumvirate and other volunteers rushed the refugees to safety in the north. The assaults were turned back--the Legion fortifications were holding for now.

As the final refugees left the post, vats of oil were thrown over the walls into the streets. The walls and buildings burned, forcing a retreat into the heart of the post.

A second wave of assaults came, and there was to be no third wave. Every last reptile, including the Creator himself, stormed the military post. The horns blew, and a retreat was sounded. The remaining soldiers set fire on their retreat. Those who did not heed the call were overrun, either slain or captured.

The fire slowed the enemy's advance. They had taken the post, but the refugees were evacuated. The remaining Legion force and their allies escorted them to the safety of Aquor.

[Phantom Lamb]

For most, it was a bittersweet moment. They had saved nearly every refugee and citizen at the post, but many good men had lost their lives in the effort. Or had they? Scouts reported seeing prisoners being taken back to the south.

But there was no time to rejoice or mourn. To everyone's surprise, the blitzing army did not stop to solidify their position at Mirakus. The reptiles made an about-face and headed south-west to the Port. The remaining force was hours away in Aquor, tasked with the duty of protecting the refugees. Mages sent urgent messages to the Legion, but it was clear the marine town had little time to prepare.

The townsfolk quickly fled onto boats and headed out to sea. The soldiers stationed there gave their lives to allow the evacuation. They put up a fierce defense, but had no where to retreat to but the sea. Citizens watched in horror from the safety of their vessels as the army was overrun and torn apart. The surviving force fled to the west gate, holding a defensive position as the reptiles took over the majority of the city.

As the defenders faultered, they were bolstered by new troops from Aquor. Adventurers and soldiers alike strengthened the defense, and they were able to stand their ground.

[Phantom Lamb]

The newcomers were a rag-tag bunch: a Thayan, archers from the Glade, soldiers, and other volunteers. But the strangest reinforcements of all had scales. A small group of rebels--naga and lizardmen--had joined the group. They knew only draconic, but were able to communicate through translators. Their help was begrudginly accepted by the officers at the gate.

The rebel reptiles confirmed what the Legion had hoped: the crystals, which had caused them pain and anger, no longer afflicted them. With the corruptive nature of the crystals reversed, the lizardmen and naga reverted to normal. The strongest among them were able to fight off the affects first. There were not many of them, so they fled until they could find the right time to save their people. They knew many who were scared, fighting only to keep their scaley skin. Some were corrupted beyond saving, and the rebels conceded they were to be slain if their tribe was to be regained.

But the rebels feared one thing--the Creator. He was there: they could smell him. He was in their minds, and he was coming. They knew only one who could bring him down--the Voice.

The Voice had been captured. She was in prison, hours away in Sundren City proper. She was the only one who he truly trusted--an extension of the Creator, a confidant and a diplomat.

With this news, the Thayan cast a spell. He had only one contact in the city who could reach the Voice. He had met the man only once, but it would suffice. The imperatu would hear his news.

The Sending spell went through, but the reply was not as helpful as the Thayan had hoped. The imperatu had no incentive to offer the Voice. She would not speak. They were ordered to hold the gate until reinforcements arrived.

Waves of assaults from the reptiles came now. The gate was losing men. Patrols arrived to reinforce their defense, but the army of reptiles was too numerous. Something desperate needed to be done.

At a break in the fighting, a clinicus suddenly shouted, "Cold!" He had received word from the mages in the city--the Voice had betrayed the weakness of her master. No one had time to question why--they had an answer. Cut the head off the snake, and the body will die.

And so, the commanding officer--an evocati--volunteered to seal his fate. He left alone, marching to the Creator himself for negotiations.

After fifteen minutes, the evocati returned--partially. His head was thrown over the gate. The Creator himself was standing menacingly. He spoke in common, claiming to be older than the sum of human knowledge. He spat venomously, commanding that his people would rise above the apes. And then he attacked the gate.

[Phantom Lamb]

It was a flawed, egotistical tactic by the Creator. He sought to rally his own troops by single-handedly defeating the final defenses of the Port. He thought himself impervious to their attacks. But he did not know he had been betrayed.

Rays of cold shot from the mages and woodswomen who were among the adventurers. The Creator screamed in pain and his actions seemed slowed. He swung his swords wildly and deliberately, but with less and less affect. The cooling of his blood was bringing him to a mortal level.

The Creator turned on one of the sources of his anguish--an elven archer. As he beared down on her, her resolve faded. She fled as most would under the whirling blades of a four-armed snakeman thrice her height. Unfortunately, her retreat was into the city--the city that had been overrun by the reptile army.

The soldiers persued, hoping the Creator was fatally wounded. The elf ran further and further into the Port. The enemy was alerted of their leader's distress, and they raced to help. Yuan-ti healers tended to their master's wounds while he bore down upon the elf, rendering her unconscious at the dockside. Lizardmen archers fired back at the soldiers in persuit, catching them off-guard. They too fell.

The remaining defenders saw their position was compromised. They ran back to the gate, but it was too late. The cooling of the Creator's blood had waned, and he regained his strength and sent the last of them into slumber.

[Phantom Lamb]

The defenders awoke hours later. They were in a triage center in the Port. Tents had been set up, and the Legion had regained control.

The army had arrived in full force from Sundren city. They had caught the reptiles by surprise. The reptiles army had its attention focused solely on the west gate. They did not see the Legion come from the east until it was too late. The morale of the enemy was broken by the surprise attack, and many fled to the north.

The Creator turned back to save his army, but the Legion knew his weakness. Scholii sent waves of Ice Storms on the giant snake. He writhed in pain, barely able to move. His blood cooled, and his body slowed so he could barely fend off blows, let alone land them. Spear after spear went into his belly, and at last he fell.

The Creator had been skinned. His hide was draped over the western gate, a bloody reminder of what happens to those who threaten the might of Sundren.