Fort Ranik

Ruin, ruin.

I've been sent on another mission.  Fort Ranik needs to be cleansed.  I am to help push back the charr.  It amazes me sometimes, how much like us the charr are.  Atleast in what they carry.  Dyes, gold, materials.  Things I can use.  Though i'm not sure how good a charr would look in purple.  We massacre them as we go, mindsparks and martyrs, stalkers and bosses.  Grazz the Unforgiving, a corpse in our path. Klaww Featherstorm, may worms feast on him. Master Armin Saberlin stops us when we get to the gate.  His son has been taken captive.  I didn't think the charr took prisoners, but I guess we all change and adapt our ways.  I feel some hope knowing now the charr do take live prisoners.  Perhaps all our fallen are not infact fallen, just taken.  Maybe little Gwen the flutist is alive somewhere.  Perhaps it would be better if she were dead.

In the distance we see cages.  Could the charr possibly have left our people alive?  Trapped like animals?  We spray the charrs blood on the ground until we reach the first cage.  Trooper Deeter Saberlin is inside, son of Armin. He is alive, and he is clear to return to his father.  That is one victory won, atleast.  As we continue, a large healer charr, Rrrack Whitefire stands in our way. Stood in our way.  He is with grenth now.

We find our way to the catapult field. The charr have already set up camp. They've destroyed all our trebuchets, and slain all our engineers.  Standing amidst the wreakage, valiant and brave, is Siegemaster Lormar.  Brave he must be, as he is being charged by Roarst One Eye, master necromancer of the blood legion.  He must have been confused though, as he kept hexing me with a mark of pain, yet he had no team dealing the appropriate damage.  Stolen ascalonian ale perhaps? Whatever his issue was, we made quick work of it.

Siegemaster Lormar is convinced he can fix the trebuchet. We must make haste and find replacement pieces off the destroyed catapults. Seeing the extent of the damage, I am skeptical. This is an advantage we cannot give up though, and I run to being searching.  I find an arming crank, and a release lever. Last is the restraining bolt, and we find that a little to the north east.  It looks as if it will function.  Nothing left but  to test it.

It worked! The near charr camp is all but destroyed, all the charr dead.  A small success.  I see another trebuchet by the wall, where the larger charr camp stands. It seems to be in working order.  The charr are not within blasting range though. Live bait perhaps? Risky, but we must prevail.  I run in to the camp, they see me and come out.  I am too fast for them, I get back to the trebuchet while they stand confused by their crudely build burning effigy.  I hope they never unlock the magic to create moving effigies.

we pick off the smaller groups left and finally we arrive at the hole. Spar the Ravager, master warrior, stands there with only a troop of two.  He seems not to have heard the explosions from the trebuchet or even noticed we are standing behind him.

It is done.  The charr are pushed back.  A great victory for Ascalon.  The Prince joins us, but with a heavy heart.  It seems in the charrs hurry to flee they had taken several prisoners. The Prince is beside himself with grief.  He is done attempting to be diplomatic, we are to go to Surmia and retrieve our taken.  Then we are to go to Kryta.  With or without the Kings permission.  Pray he sees reason.

The Searing

We have been ruined by the charr.  So many dead, so many missing.  The King, Prince, and his men have survived.  I myself survived aswell, obviously, but a piece of me died.  Lush green fields lay in charred dusty ruin,  houses demolished, the kingdom at war not only with the charr, but with all kinds of Grenths own.  At war with ourselves.  Rurik believes we should make haste to Kryta, and uphold the ancient alliance but the King, his father, is far too stubborn.  He will not allow us to transport our dying population.  Instead he insists we stay in a dead land.   Over the last while, I have been sent on many messenger missions.  I think the king holds a grudge to us who were killing charr before the event we call the "searing".   Adelbarn believes us to blame.  The killing of Vatlaaw triggered the hellfire.  Now our lands lay scorched, our spirit maimed, and our king absolutely insane.

I recieved a promotion.  Bittersweet news admist the tragedy.  Virtually everyone recieved a promotion though, considering the state of our shambled city.   We need all the help we can get, and we all became greatly experienced in what seems overnight.  We had no choice.  No time for leisurely training.  Its more like a run for your life through fields of devourers.

Our enemies became more experienced aswell.  It was almost as if the crystal storm gave them power or security of being.  They multiplied in the hundreds. Guess there was nothing better for them to do with our soldiers having no time to control the populations.

Devourers

Warmaster Tydus, yes warmaster now, sent me with a message to the ambassador Zain of Kryta.  I took Alessia with me, a fellow monk in training.  She is more skilled than I, and I hope to learn from her.  Tydus is suspicious of the Krytans.  His mind has become suspicious of all, he holds a piece of the same madness afflicting the king.    Before I leave though, I take my advantages where I can.  The searing has driven most crafters and trainers to the far reaches of our continent, luckily, it drove some in to "Old Ascalon", as the king has dubbed it. Corwen will upgrade my armour to something more suitable to the new norm.  Perhaps I can muster a more powerful weapon.

When I arrive at Zain, the prince was there.  Ever the diplomat, he sees reason.  He is our forerunner for the push to Kryta and salvation. They discuss matters, and the prince runs back to the fallen palace to attempt to yet again persuade the King to move.  The message has been delivered.  It is time to gather some new skills and move on.