The Lord of the Black Hand Armies - Defeated

[GodBeastX]

The kingdom of Sundren all gave way to celebration when the news of Lord Maximus Gen'Deimos' death spread through the city. The Sundren Military's offensive brought a severe blow to the forces of the enemy.

While survivors of the skirmish returned home heroes, there was a memorial service held for those who lost their lives in the assault.

The whole of the city gave praise to Helm for his blessed protection upon them, but some of the forces of light know that this is only the beginning and it will take much more effort to defeat the whole of the Black Hand.

[Peridan]

Dressed in his formal uniform, Peridan watches the slow procession of men carrying their comrades to their final rest. Weeping widows and blankly staring children surround him, and he must constrain himself from openly consoling them until after the formalities are over with.

'Officium Pro Nex' He thinks to himself, as he watches the coffins of the heroic men and women move along in a long line of sadness and death.

[Fezzik]

A little gnome lady, dressed with a Cloak of Helm on her back simply sighs and shrugs.

"You Poke a sleeping giant, I hope you have enough sense to realize that it's going to wake up and smack you so hard you'll be in next week before anyone realizes your gone."

[Kaizen]

It started storming the moment the General of the Banites fell dead, decapitated by a cigar scented Legionaire by the name of Twilight.

Kaizen didn't bother wrenching his spear from the dead Dreadmaster that lay in a pool of blood at his feet. Instead, he looked up and let the rain wash over him, let the thunder beat in his chest and the lightning dance in his eyes.

Perhaps the Gods were crying.

But Kaizen knew. Talos accepted him for what he was. Welcomed him for what he was. He was the Scion of Talos, on a different road now.

And Talos still considered him his Chosen one.

Controlled chaos. A paradox - but he was the Son of Storms, and he knew how to walk such a line.

For the first time in many years, he smiled.

And it was genuine.

[Silas North]

*Occasionally in the Four Lanterns and the Sundren Comfort, the bard tells the tale in the same over-theatrical manner as usual*

Metal clashed upon metal as the armies collided! Light, fire, and darkness rained from the sky with the casting of various spells upon both armies. Blood soaked the ground and one by one the bearers of black armor fell until only the hulking general remained!

He stood but an inch short of 8 feet tall, wielding an axe of great evil, able to hack through stone, metal, and flesh as if it were mere flimsy parchment.

Oh ho ho great was his stature and great was his skill, til I swung the axe free from his hands that is; then great was the moisture now soaking his lower garments.

He now stood face to face against several weary, but determined soldiers, one of which being the great Sesquiplicarius Peridan himself, who weaved magic to bring his form to a massive stature of his own, enough to make the general cringe with the very fear he sought to inspire in everyone in this valley.

As lovely as the taste of poetic justice had to have been to our fearless officer, he had a job to do. In his form of fierce shadows, he swung newly formed claws and severed the general's head. It flew literally a distance of 20 FEET, the lips still crying out curses the whole way.

The honorable Legion had done their duty this day and the people of Sundren have come a step closer to being truly free.

[RPMike17]

*A cloaked and hooded figure, his breath heavy of rum, sits in the corner of the Four Lanterns and listens to the tale. At the conclusion he quietly toasts the Legionnaire and the Silver Tongued Tale Spinner, emptying his glass and leaving it on the table in front of him. He then quietly slips out the back into the rain that falls too often in this accursed valley, whispering only one word followed by a lighthearted chuckle* "Sesquiplicarius..."