The War of the Nine Lords (IC)

Eirthor stated to hear the voice of his dead father in his head wile he sleeps, and has a dream of the first battle that started the war.

"1012 years ago. Eight kingdoms rushed the great gate protecting Tertori. Many have died and what use to be part of my peoples great land has fallen." Erithor starts to see rocks flying in the sky, crushing the trees and hitting people. He see's people of all races fighting eachother.
A nine war war

A giant yellow ball looking like the sun showed up in the middle of the field that only Eirthor looks at. Every one is to bissy killing eachother to pay attention to it.

"This war will not stop untill ever, single, one of us is dead!" As soon as voice of Erithors father said that. The ball exploded destroying the intire field and waking Erithor up.

Erithor says to him self "What kind of dream was that!?"
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the sun rises and Eirothr talks to the wises men of his land seeing if we should keep the tradition of letting the outsiders into there home and take part of the festivol. Erithor yells out "We will keep tradition. But we'll keep a close eye on them and be ready just in case. Tradition is tradition, and we will uphold out generation of tradition! But after the week has pass. We're back to war!"

They've sent out 8 messangers to tell the leaders of the 8 othere kingdoms that they can take part of the festivol. Erithors most loyal Drake Knight walked up to him and said "Sir. I understand about letting the othere races take part. But what about the Tyrants? They are a little crazy." Erithor just looked at him and said "Just shut up and do as I say."

(Here's the OOC/sign up for this RP) [ the-war-the-nine-lords-ooc-sign-t31955.html ]

Trakar sat contently on his thrown, the races were at their supposed peace, but this could be the perfect event for an ambush. "SEND IN THE MESSENGERS!" Trakar boomed across the room.
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Hurius steped into the elvish thrown room with his many guards around him he looked around him at all the elves, it uneased him, they were all against him, the tension, between the races was massive, one wrong move and Hurius would find himself dead, he kneeled in the middle of the thrown room "Elvish lord, I bring a message from my dwarvish king."

The air was damp, there was a slightly thick fog hanging around in the air, covering the loitering Mad Men who was gathering in the woods. They were quiet, and that made the woods quiet, and that made the entire atmosphere nerve breaking...the Mad Men were rarely quiet, and when they were, everything was silenced, naturally, as they were always loud, ringing their bells gloomily and chanting the songs from the bible as one, everything that would make an average man think twice before even drawing his sword.

There was a man in the middle of the flagellants, as the Mad Men referred to themselves as, there was a large man, unlike the rest of the flagellants his body was solid like a rock, filled with muscles that tensed even as he breathed calmly, he had a great beard on his face, making him look like one of the many other filthy flagellants who never had considered taking a shower for their life, and his scalp was bald, reflecting back what light shone onto it and revealed burn marks and scars from unknown events.
The large man's arms were bleeding, though only a little compared to some of the blood that came from other flagellants' wounds. His weapons had been tied to his arms with leather strings, ropes and chains, and they had been tightened so much that they would leave permanent marks and even twisted the skin so it began to bleed slightly. The Prophet looked at the weapons, the Scythe and the Hammer, the two first weapons that the first Prophets used and had brought great glory to the Mad Men, and they had become a symbol to them, or to be more precise, they were relics, for every Prophet of Doom was given these weapons and they were maintained to ensure that the next Prophet would continue to bring glory to the Mad Men, forever.

Inhaling calmly, the Prophet closed his eyes and then opened them and looked at his people. Some wore armor, others wore rags, but it meant nothing, Sen, their great god who would one day rule the world, would grant them the strength that they would need to do whatever they would set their minds to.

"Brothers!" He called out loudly,. getting the attention of the hundreds of flagellants that were present, "This is a day where the word of Sen will be screamed down upon those infidels, they will wish that they had converted the day that they were born! We shall make their homes burn, we shall bring justice to their infants, and we shall make the streets run red with blood, red as the color of wine, wine which runs through our blessed lord's veins!"
The flagellants cheered, raising their hands high, the Zealots raised their spear and banner like weapons inspiring the rest to lift their own weapons as well.
"Give the signal, and let the world know, that we, the faithful followers of Sen, the Almighty One, will unify this world,. whether they like it or not, through violence or talk, we shall bring this wretched world down to its knees and make it see The Light!"

Horns bellowed and echoed through the woods, roars and cheers sounded like thunder as the hundreds of flagellants came crashing through the woods from all sides of the town, bringing with them siege weapons, artillery weapons and a faith so strong that their moral was unshakable.

The ram was placed against the gate within minutes and then the loud sound of the gates being banged against by the powerful ram could be heard all over the battlefield.
The flagellants raised their siege ladders, and began crawling over it, some were so committed that they stayed on the ladder and moved on even if their body had been filled with arrows or their clothes had caught on fire and this inspired many others to follow their example.

"If you are a believer of Sen you will take one more step closer towards the enemy, drag as many with you as they have claimed, if not, you will forever suffer in the unholy flames of Hell, surrounded by the horned ones and the monsters whom has never seen daylight for as long as they have existed!" The Prophet of Doom cried out as he stood behind the living wall of humans.
It was like a rain as arrows were exchanged, the sound of the flagellants when they were wounded wasn't because the pain was a negative thing to their minds, no, it was a drug, pain was something that they craved for, they wanted it, they needed it to feel that they had satisfied the demands of Lord Sen, and his demands were boundless.

The gates were breached and the town was in wild panic as the Mad Men filled the streets, breaking into the houses, setting the hay on fires, and brutally murdering everyone they found across their path.
Women screamed, children cried, and men yelled. It was like paradise for the Prophet as he entered the battle field and swung his weapons around, killing everything that came across his path. His hammer crushed the skull of a child while his scythe pierced the chest of a woman, but that was not it enough, it was never enough. He kicked a charging soldier, hitting him right in the hip, making the man fall down onto one knee, the Prophet used that time to get his face closer to the man, and when their eyes met he snapped forward, quick as a snake, and bit the man's nose, his sharp teeth cutting through the soft flesh, and with a powerful thrust backward, the nose was off, but the Prophet didn't stop there, he began to beat the hammer down on the man, breaking bones, filling the air with the loud cracks that could be heard from every blow that landed.

"Take that you infidel, worthless sot!" The Prophet cursed and then spat the nose down on the dead corpse, and kicked it.

He looked around. The battle was won, they had annihilated this town, and was now just making sure that the work of Sen was done, to led the streets run red with blood. Blood...There was no difference between blood and wine to the Prophet of Doom, it was the same. Lord Sen gave humans, along with every other creature on this earth some of his blood so they could live, but how did they repay him? They turned their backs to him while the Mad Men remained loyal.

Mad...Why are they called that? They were flagellants, religious people who were looking for pleasing their God, while the rest of the world saw them as crazy men. It was them who were crazy, them and their believes were nothing more but heretical, it was pure blasphemy, blasphemy that had to be punished, and that was the work of the flagellants...to punish the heretics.

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"O' Prophet, you who art the mouth of the Almighty One. There be a messenger from the animalistic dragons, what is you O' holy words?" a flagellant asked as he prostrated himself before the Prophet of Doom, who was sitting on the throne of the Town's Hall, having undone his ties to his weapons, he was now a man of peace and democracy.
"Bring the...misguided before me," the Prophet answered and sipped some water from his glass.
The dragon messenger was brought before the Prophet and forced down on the ground to show respect to him, and he was then allowed to talk, "I bring word from my master. He wishes to invite you to the The Mating Festival, a festival only celebrated once every thousand year. You should be tha-" the messenger didn't get further as he was dragged away, out of the room where he was then whipped while they fanatically devoted flagellants were screaming into his face that he was to respect their leader, indeed see him as a chosen man of Sen himself.
The Prophet could have waved his hand lazily and the dragon would have been executed, and his scale would have made a new pair of booths for him, but he wasn't wielding any of his weapons, indeed he didn't have the Whip Of A Thousand Sins to show that he had the right to take a life of Sen's creation.

He waited till the beaten reptile was brought back to him and forced back onto the cold floor when the Prophet said, "I will attend your festival, but rest assured that if I smell the slightest attempt of assassination against my, or any other of my close friends' lives...your precious leader's blood, indeed his entire family's blood, will be used to write the psalms from our holy bible, on his own walls, is that clear?"
The dragon nodded its head weakly and was then taken away.

The Prophet leaned back and then thought for a moment before he broke out into signing one of the songs from the Bible of Sen, those who could hear him joined, the rest continued on tearing down the town till nothing but ruins and ashes remained, along with the desecrate corpses of the dead piled up in the center of the town.

Synth's eyes were closed as a Hurius came forth. She kept her eyes closed ad then gave a warming smile as Hurius said, "Dwarven". Synth always though Dwarves as cute and funny creatures. She just enjoyed the though of cuddling a little one. She gave small giggle at the sight of it. Synth's eyes open and she her smile shined brighter. "Of course! Tell us.. what is this message the Dwarven king sends?" She asked standing up. He dress drifted in the easing air and her hair bounced as she walked down the steps. Mornze was on the second floor looking down and his wolf, Princess glared down too. She walked straight up to Hurius and whispered, "But first.. tell me your name."