Elder Death and Deeper Darkness
Twenty-
First Third of the Second Month 294 AC
Most mortal beings, upon being made the object of direct divine displeasure, would go out of their way to avoid engendering such attention again. Thankfully, dragons were a breed apart, and those such as Osryx even more so. Why fear the nights when your flesh is knit of it, why fear death when your bones sing of it? As he rode the night winds over the Planes of Sarnor away from the glittering camp of the legions, the dragon found himself intrigued. What would it mean to devour the flesh of a withered god, to sup upon its blood. His 'father' would doubtless think him overbold, his 'mother' perhaps a touch too precocious, but in the end was it not the privilege of dragons to dream?
Truth be told, Osryx was quite glad to escape the glare of the golden banners. They did not harm him as they did the living dead, but it still itched behind his eyes to look at them. It was not as though the the camp needed him to guard it regardless. Though the land this close to the Sarne was flat as rice paper, the king had managed to find a few mounds peeking out of the long grasses. They made excellent artillery emplacements.
Did they realize those were graves, the dragon wondered idly,
graves from a time long before the Tall Men had come to these lands, graves that had laid undisturbed even as the hand of death reached over the land. He could feel those sleeping below. They approved of the unmaking of the seed of Huzhor Amai.
If men were not as blind to death beside them, they would never again be able to sleep, the dragon chuckled darkly to himself. Still as amusing as it might be to keep that detail to himself, the Hairy Men might object when the hosts of Sathar were brought close and the king would not take well to being blindsided. "Little cousin, seek the ear of the king and tell him that dead older than Sathar slumber beneath the feet of the legion."
"You know I'm older than you, right?" Nizuss hissed, trying and failing to hide his anoyance.
"But you are so very much smaller," Osryx replied innocently.
Alas, he did not have long to ponder his cousin's amusement or whatever trickery or jest he might attempt in retaliation, entertaining as those were. He had an enemy army to find.
You have discovered that the position you chose to muster is the site of an ancient funerary complex of the Hairy Men. It seems quiet for now, perhaps even approving according to Osryx, but that may change.
What do you do?
[] Try to commune with the spirits
-[] Write in with whom
[] Move, given enough time you can make hills and the enemy does not look like it is in a hurry to attack
[] Write in
***
Much of the enemy hosts, mostly the least of the dead with a leveling of overseers, were encamped outside the walls of Sarnath proper under tattered banners that marked both the hosts of Gornath and ostensibly of House Alexi of Sarnath. A less keen eye might have missed the threads of darkness woven into the banners among the vast rows of dead, a hundred thousand and more strong. Not so Osryx, who noticed them and he knew the shadow magic staining them even at the height of mid day. The
darkness of some other realm could be raised here making it so the living suffered with every breath even as they struggled to see through the pal of shadows.
The too bright banners should be able to counter them if brought close, but as each would struggle against the other the rats would doubtless feed.
What do you do about the banners?
[] Try to sabotage them somehow before the battle begins
-[] Write in
[] Advance there is only chaff before the walls and your mages should be more than skilled enough to remove the banners before the battle proper starts
[] Try to goad the enemy into acting
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: All the legions have been moved as the above plan without any issue, there did not seem much point in showing that happening on screen. You are near the enemy and it looks like Gornath and Sarnath are moving as one. Not yet edited.