Dec 6 Tournament Fluff

Red Harvest

It would have been a beautiful summer afternoon had it not be marred by the smell of crackling fires and charred timber. The few human survivors of the attack were chained and clustered into the town square, surrounded by their attackers, Druchii.

They came suddenly. Dark robed and armored figures had waded ashore stealthily with the coming of the high tide; announcing their arrival only with the firing of repeater crossbows. The villagers tried to flee, with only a couple of brave souls attempting to defend the village with pitchforks and old handguns. It was an exchange so one-sided that none of the invaders were hurt.

The attackers did not even bother to engage hand to hand combat with the villagers and had merely cut the latter down with crossbows. Personal combat were reserved for honored foes, not cattle like these. In no time, the village was pacified and its inhabitants subdued.

Dreadlord Lormanticus strolled confidently into the midst of his captives and addressed them. “And so we, the Darkspears came once again into this beautiful village. Just as we had burnt and pillage the homes of your predecessors half a century ago, now its time for your generation to contribute to the war efforts of his Lordship Malekith, a tribute paid in flesh and blood. Everyone will follow us back to Naggaroth, leave only two pairs of the youngest couples behind Let’s hope they will build a more beautiful and long lasting village next time.”

The Dreadlord’s words were interrupted by the wailing of an old man, “No! The cycle repeats and the wheel turns again. Just as it happened to me and now it has come to haunt my grandchildren.”

Lormanticus sneered, “Ah! My young friend Menklor is that you? You have aged indeed over the years. I still remember you as my first personal captive, as this village was where I had my maiden battle leading the Darkspears.”

The Dreadlord snickered, gently laid his hand on the teary man’s shoulder and whispered, “Listen, I can let you live just as I had done previously. All you need to do is to do a small favor for me, for old time’s sake.”

“Go, go my dear Menklor to every corner of the Old World, tell everyone that I am coming and once again I have come to collect tribute for the Witch King. Tell them to give me what I demand or they will end up paying tenfold.”

Lormanticus lifted the elderly human up and pushed him out of the town square, “Now go my friend, do the deed. Let them know of our arrival and let them know of our next target …… the Fields of Strife.”