Chances of survival?

[DeVerci]

We're all in trouble now  :'(

[Medron Pryde]

Pretty much...

[JeVondair]

Nonsense! We're just getting started!

[Lorgan]

Nonsense! We're just getting started!

Coming from a Valian, that made me laugh. :)

But well, we'll see if working together to stop this invasion works. No matter the hints and possibilities, there's still a minefield to cross when we want to actually get in touch with eachother.

[DeVerci]

And when we do get in touch with each other some nobles loot their ally's territory.  :(

[Lorgan]

Heh.

I had to actually say, multiple times, and in bold, "do not loot anyone" (well except for Netherworld, rogue or Spearhold) because people thought they could overrecruit and loot their soldier fees on the way. Though I did sort of expect it to happen anyway, based on past experience... Anyway, I got me a usual suspect.

[Azerax]

ah, music to my ears... seems like you have a slight case of the Barony!  Looting will put it into remission for a while.

[Lorgan]

So... army in Dyomoque, Nothoi not ready to strike aaaand 40,000 CS of daimon thralls in Jedinchel, in striking range of two ill-defended cities.

Chances of survival? Better than any of the previous Invasions!

[jaune]

"It's just a flesh wound! Come back and i bite your leg off!"

-Jaune

[Prometheus III]

Some role-play from the south......


Lewis rung his hands in the dark. The black, cloudless winter sky poured moonlight onto the men. The cold air of the night traced the outline of Lewis's ragged breathing as he drew himself into his cloak.

"I hate the bloody cold", Lewis whispered to himself.

Drawing in his reigns, Lewis spurred his horse forward, ahead of his makeshift band of troops. The new men from Jidington were not meshing well with the troop protocol. They'll come round in time, Lewis mused.

Half a mile out of the gates of the Jidington, the men were nervous. Monsters, undead, Diamon and gods know what else plagued the south these days. The chaotic, war-torn landscape seemed almost surreal to Lewis.

Riombara, a ghost of its former glory, could no longer protect the people of these lands, and anywhere outside of the city was plagued by lawless, desperate anarchy. Lewis didn't particularly care for commoners, their quaint little lives were beneath him, but he did love order and stability. Memories of his peaceful childhood on the East Continent played in his mind as a disturbing contrast to the burned farms and dead bodies of Riombara's former domain.

I'm gonna bloody bring a taste of law and order back to this place. Daimons be damned to oblivion. I'm going to send them back to hell and bring a little taste of civilization back to the south.

Lewis hadn't had cake in weeks, extravagant pleasures were hard to come by in the south these days, and he was determined to see that change.

He'd hire a fleet of bakers once he'd become lord. Of that, Lewis was certain. Riding into the black night, Lewis couldn't stop thinking about cake.

[Blue Star]

"It's just a flesh wound! Come back and i bite your leg off!"

-Jaune

+1

As for Rio it looks like utter chaos on our map.... imagine a butterfly flying and everyone watching it and then smack somebody slaps it down and stomps on it... were the butter fly

[Prometheus III]

Hail To The Queen   (just in)
message to everyone on Beluaterra
At long last, the opaque swirls of colour in the portal begin to coalesce into concrete shapes.

Though some are many hundreds of miles from the portal, all on Beluaterra find themselves somehow fully aware of what happens next.

Incantatrix and Cacabula cease their chanting, their bodies now shining like miniature suns with the energies they have gathered. They kneel on either side of Azerax, who still stands staring into the portal, a rapt expression on his face.

He stares up now, as on the other side of the portal a humanoid form has begun to take shape. It is tallâ€"taller than Strategusâ€"and it coruscates with power. As before, the details of its form and features are cloaked in shimmering shadow, but its eyes are completely clear: eyes that match the brand upon Azerax's face.

Azerax steps forward now, and reaches both hands up toward the portal. The hands of the figure on the other side reach down toward him, as if in a skewed mirror. They touch just as both reach the surface of the portal itself.

The hands that appear from beyond are a slate-blue, and appear like the hands of a perfectly formed human woman, save for their large size and the claw tipping each finger. There is a faint shimmer in the air around them, but not as strong as that surrounding Incantatrix. The hands grasp Azerax's wrists, as he grasps hers, and then he begins to step back, a wondering smile spreading across his face.

The smile is somewhat surprising, given that his flesh seems to be starting to smoke where it touches the hands from the portal.

Inch by inch, Azerax appears to be pulling the figure through the portal. As her arms come almost fully through, she ducks her head to be able to pass safely under the top of the portal's arch...

...and Domina steps from the Netherworld into our world for the first time in human history.

Her face and form are perfection, and to gaze upon her is to learn despair, for she can never be obtained, and never be matched by any human man or woman. Her eyes are a swirl of colours surrounding a white-hot point in the center, always rotating, and they can pierce through the soul in an instant.

Then she speaks, with a voice like the most beautiful and majestic music, and the world goes silent to listen.

"Azerax, mortal human, you have been blessed as no other before you, for not only have you gazed upon my face, you have twice been the instrument of my return to this plane. Now shall I complete your blessing."

She lays one hand on his head, closes her eyes, tilts her head back slightly, and opens her mouth.

Azerax stiffens, and something seems to rise from his body, like smoke and yet not, and flow into her mouth. As it does, his body ages and desiccates, until within moments, he is nothing but dried sticks of bone.

Domina shudders in apparent pleasure as Azerax's bones crumble to dust before her. She stands there, savouring the moment, for several seconds, then gestures to her two lieutenants.

"Come," she says, and strides from the temple. As she does so, Incantatrix and Cacabula follow. Behind them, a new phalanx of Daimon warriors marches forth from the portal.

Outside, she climbs the steps to the bell. She caresses it lovingly, and it sings back to her a soft song as she does so. Then she turns her back to it and faces outward.

"Humans of this world, the time when you were allowed to live in lies is over. Now I have returned to claim what is mine, and all your armies shall be like dust in the wind before me."

She raises her arms, and true to her words, a mighty wind rises up. It blows outward from the temple, and the armies of men marching toward it find themselves slowed, then stopped, then pushed back as the wind grows stronger.

"Bow to Domina, humans, or be utterly destroyed."

[Zakilevo]

Azerax is still alive. Don't know about that RP :o

[Anaris]

Whoops! Thanks for reminding me!

I knew I'd forget to implement some of that event's game-mechanic consequences...

[Ossan]

I for one welcome our new daimon overlords.