Lost. Defeated. Broken. Beaten to pulp.
Those words exactly could describe the war; we were struck by surprise with forces uncountable. The rangers of the south were of little help, asking for riches to end their travels and demanded payment before each fight. The gallant paladins, how they fought tooth and nail for their homeland from these invaders… too bad it was never enough, not with their magic runes.
As if everyone didn’t already know, the invaders appeared early this year, just as heavy blizzards pelted down from the north. It’s only been three months since then too, and I could still hear those low beating drums fighting against even more fierce winds. They came with fire strong as hell itself and weapons from the ends of the earth. Their army vast enough that a single volley of arrows could easily blot out the noontime sky.
Our own army, just coming off a victory with the Northern Raiders, was greatly weakened and easily succumbed to the new assault. We were drained physically, mentally and even spiritually. There was little else but to surrender and lay down our arms. That was last month as each petty strike forced just seemed to bounce off their bulk. We were defeated.
Martial Law came into play, curfews were set against our rule. Our gods banished, holy buildings burnt to the cinders. Our will to live fading with each passing breathe. Surely none would come along and pity our kind, surely there were none. But nay! When there is fear, when there is a bully, there are always those ready to fight, to lay down their lives to insure the safety of the whole. They are the Black Lotus and they are all we have.
~ Lord Jerald, Keeper of Lost Records.
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