[INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][SIZE=18]The Birth of the Dark Swarm
[SIZE=13]The highborn are coming
And they have not forgotten
The Darkness is unbound
Their vengeance is at hand
My rebirth is complete and the field is set, though I have played my hand rather prematurely, I will cope with this momentary disadvantage. Xullxyra’s humbled face is more than satisfying for such a loss. The Prince will soon lose interest in his new favored weapon and cast it aside like another dull blade. Distasteful as it may be, I must not let this happen.
Hundreds of traitors have been executed along with their arrogant cousins, an offering to the Prince. The god-spawned wretch lives still but only so that she can be of some use to the highborn, I will keep her for as long as she remains useful. By the end of this game, all of Voltrex will bow down in chains and the self-proclaimed Dark One of the Depths will be nothing but a smoldering carcass, a casualty of the war.[/SIZE]
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[INDENT][INDENT][INDENT]The Court of the G’eldqualyn
The opening sacrifices of the twelfth cycle have just begun, and the air is rank with the stench of blood and gore. Even during such an early time in the cycle, nobles and commoners alike flock to the main square to partake in the dark ceremony. Like a slow procession, the slaves’ flesh and spirits ebb away into nothing as the artisans of their demise masterfully do their craft. Their dying screams are drowned by a chorus of praise and worship.
Amid all the chaos, a spider the size of a thimble manages to navigate the myriad passages. It makes its way to the apex of the city, a behemoth of a structure shaped like a spider. Upon reaching the first few steps of the imposing structure, the tiny spider is devoured by a bigger one. Such is life in Xull, the Dark Swarm of the Deep, the strong devour the weak.
The great hall of the massive structure is adorned with intricate patterns depicting spiders, webs, and the Prince of Hate. Arachnids of all shapes and sizes casually wander the hall and they are lovingly tended to by their dark elven taskmasters. The great hall ends with a gate that opens into an equally large audience chamber which ascends like a staircase with pairs of thrones set in a semicircle at the bottom. Ascending further from bottom are two sets of thrones separate from the rest given their unique embellishments. The dais at the very top bears a single yet larger throne made of calcified webbing with spiderlike features. This is where the Talthara convenes, the Court of G’eldqualyn.
Aside from the chittering of swarms of spiders, the audience chamber is alive with the bickering of dark elven nobles.
“Warriors travel to Xull more frequently now. Our armies grow with each cycle yet they remain content at pillaging the surface for slaves and treasure. We’ve gathered enough strength. Now is the time to strike!” retorts Gulagh Hun’ndar, the stubby and warlike patriarch of the Second House, a contrast to Sabrae the quiet and calculating matriarch.
The patriarch of the Second House takes his seat and as soon as he does, a female soon rises and addresses the assembly – Valarra T’ekeneld, the matriarch of the Fifth House. She takes a stern look at Gulagh Hun’ndar and then points accusingly at him.
“Do you honestly think that this war can be won through sheer aggression? Are you males so narrow-minded that you would so blindly charge at our enemies? We are not prepared, and by the Dark Mother, we will all perish if we follow the hubris of this male!” she exclaims seething with anger.
Chaos envelops the audience chamber and curses are spat between noble houses until they are all silenced by the retainers of the First House. Silence ensues and is subsequently broken by another male who stands and approaches the steps leading to the dais.
“To settle this debate, how does the dread G’eldqualyn plan on initiating the destruction of Voltrex? Surely he must have something in mind?”
Ilryn Solvrae, the scrawny patriarch of the Seventh House, bows mockingly before the dais and stares directly at the throne of G’eldqualyn with a smirk. He then turns to face the other nobles as he motions to the unoccupied throne.
“Absent, as expected from a whelp, a spoiled one for that matter. The G’eldqualyn obviously has better matters to attend to, matters far greater than the destruction of Voltrex! How then will our supposed general lead us when he can’t even so much as be present for his own court?”
Pleased with the dissent he has sown, the prince approaches the throne of G’eldqualyn boldly and takes a seat.
“Pardon my bravado, brothers and sisters, but I believe it is time to rein in this half-breed. He is a weapon, nothing more! He is not meant to lead us, but rather he must be unleashed like the beast he is!”
The patriarch takes a moment and gazes at the other nobles of the Talthara. He smiles at each one of them and his eyes glow a bright red.
“I move to depose Xullxyra and–“
Something suddenly grips the patriarch as he stops and grabs his head and screams. A loud chittering sound can suddenly be heard and a figure emerges from the shadows behind the throne of G’eldqualyn. The figure is clad in an ornate garment with little spiders seen all over his person and in his wake – Ni’haer Helvivirr, the G’elderin of Xull. He bows before the nobles of the Talthara with a smile as his eyes glow an intense red. With a gentle shove, Ilryn Solvrae is removed from the throne and sent rolling on the steps of the dais.
“The G’eldqualyn is currently dealing with important matters concerning the campaign. In the meantime, please feel free to voice your opinions to me. If the Talthara has any qualms with the authority of the G’eldqualyn, I will listen to them now and you will be given the appropriate response.”
Ni’haer Helvivirr brushes himself off and then addresses the Talthara as he stands condescendingly near the throne of G’eldqualyn. The patriarch of the Seventh House spits some blood on the ground and curses. He struggles to get up but manages to maintain his balance. With his defiant stance, he stares daggers at Ni’haer Helvivirr.
“Truly the weakness of G’eldqualyn is evident in your machinations. Tell me, abomination, how is it that–“
The spiders on his person immediately engulf Ilryn Solvrae and they deliver the judgment of the G’eldqualyn with each bite. The patriarch’s screams echo from the audience chamber up to the great hall. A grotesque form is left on the steps of the dais, with a kick, the form rolls further down onto the level of the other nobles. Though barely alive from the experience, the shame killed Ilryn Solvrae from the inside.
“Would anyone else care to voice their opinions?”
The strong devour the weak.
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