The Chronicles of War:
The vast armies of Mytos K'unn, marshalled by a sorceress of great power known as
Zyrashana the Witch-Queen, had been cutting a swath through the Eastern Kingdoms
since high summer the preceding year. Empowering her troops with great sorceries, she
had seen all opposition fall before the ravening swords of her forces since the first bloody
campaign; the invasion of the ancient and noble realm of Delania. The aftermath of the
final battle had seen the systematic slaughter of the Delanian royal family, and the torture
and execution of all those who had been loyal to their banner. During the ensuing months,
more kingdoms and satrapies toppled before the might of Zyrashana's legions,
commanded by the fearsome and unswervingly loyal battle-lord Talus Ebonfyre, a man of
sublime brutality whom many beleived to be possessed by a demon-spirit from the dark
realms. Emboldened by their victories and the expansion of their queen's dark dominion,
the hordes of Mytos K'unn began the incursion into the lands of the Northern Tribes,
beginning with the grim and brooding territories south of the Snow Kingdoms... the rugged
homelands of the warlike clans which had been recently united into a strong realm by the
powerful warrior-king Caylen-Tor, a man known to his allies and enemies alike as the Wolf
of the North. Thinking the barbaric tribesmen little threat, the Witch-Queen intends a
largely unopposed march throught their lands to strike at the wealthy and fertile realms
beyond the Mountain Kingdoms to the west... but Caylen-Tor has vowed that a searing
torrent of blood and steel shall meet all those who deign to enter unwelcome or drive their
standard unbidden into his land...
As grim winter slowly yields to spring, the armies of Mytos K'unn begin their march
northwards, and news of the advance of the Witch-Queen's forces into Blackhelm Vale,
the valley known for centuries as the Gate to the Northlands, soon reaches the highland
stronghold of Caylen-Tor. Grimly taking up his sword and spear and donning the woad of
war, he vows that Zyrashana shall pay in blood for every league she has dared venture in
his sacred lands. Scouts soon return with the information that the enemy is camped at the
base of the valley, preparing to march with th dawn. The court shamans forsee rivers of
blood and untold carnage, and great battlespells are woven as Caylen-Tor leads his vastly
outnumbered Northlander warriors to the misty, moon-swathed expanse that is Blackhelm
Vale. Legends say that the blood of many kings has been spilled on the dark earth of the
valley over the generations, and Caylen-Tor promises to his grim gods that the earth will
once again drink deep this night. With his army silent and brooding beneath the moon, he
knows that whatever the outcome, this night shall see a legend of war written in blood and
the deaths of men... a legend none shall soon forget...
The War Testament of Caylen-Tor (On the Night of the Bloodying of Swords):
O' grim gods of battle, empower us this night...
Anoint us with the crimson rain, feed our steel with slaughter...
Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us victory, or a warrior's death.
Come, moon-fogs, Descend to cloak our numbers, the heady scent of battle beckons,
My ash-hafted spear feels good in my hands, girt 'round with spells (our flesh gloriously)
woad anointed,
Ravens awaiting slaughter soar high above, blood-worms bloat on red carnage,
I'll carve the moon-wheel in their flesh, as havoc churns the heather!
A swirling mantle of mist-magic swathes us, powerful spells woven by the fen-witches of
the great mere... Deep night and moon-mist shall be our allies as we surge into the fray!
At my bidding, the fog clears for a brief moment, and I gaze down upon the valley to
behold the army of the Witch-Queen... great tents arrayed upon the
The vast armies of Mytos K'unn, marshalled by a sorceress of great power known as
Zyrashana the Witch-Queen, had been cutting a swath through the Eastern Kingdoms
since high summer the preceding year. Empowering her troops with great sorceries, she
had seen all opposition fall before the ravening swords of her forces since the first bloody
campaign; the invasion of the ancient and noble realm of Delania. The aftermath of the
final battle had seen the systematic slaughter of the Delanian royal family, and the torture
and execution of all those who had been loyal to their banner. During the ensuing months,
more kingdoms and satrapies toppled before the might of Zyrashana's legions,
commanded by the fearsome and unswervingly loyal battle-lord Talus Ebonfyre, a man of
sublime brutality whom many beleived to be possessed by a demon-spirit from the dark
realms. Emboldened by their victories and the expansion of their queen's dark dominion,
the hordes of Mytos K'unn began the incursion into the lands of the Northern Tribes,
beginning with the grim and brooding territories south of the Snow Kingdoms... the rugged
homelands of the warlike clans which had been recently united into a strong realm by the
powerful warrior-king Caylen-Tor, a man known to his allies and enemies alike as the Wolf
of the North. Thinking the barbaric tribesmen little threat, the Witch-Queen intends a
largely unopposed march throught their lands to strike at the wealthy and fertile realms
beyond the Mountain Kingdoms to the west... but Caylen-Tor has vowed that a searing
torrent of blood and steel shall meet all those who deign to enter unwelcome or drive their
standard unbidden into his land...
As grim winter slowly yields to spring, the armies of Mytos K'unn begin their march
northwards, and news of the advance of the Witch-Queen's forces into Blackhelm Vale,
the valley known for centuries as the Gate to the Northlands, soon reaches the highland
stronghold of Caylen-Tor. Grimly taking up his sword and spear and donning the woad of
war, he vows that Zyrashana shall pay in blood for every league she has dared venture in
his sacred lands. Scouts soon return with the information that the enemy is camped at the
base of the valley, preparing to march with th dawn. The court shamans forsee rivers of
blood and untold carnage, and great battlespells are woven as Caylen-Tor leads his vastly
outnumbered Northlander warriors to the misty, moon-swathed expanse that is Blackhelm
Vale. Legends say that the blood of many kings has been spilled on the dark earth of the
valley over the generations, and Caylen-Tor promises to his grim gods that the earth will
once again drink deep this night. With his army silent and brooding beneath the moon, he
knows that whatever the outcome, this night shall see a legend of war written in blood and
the deaths of men... a legend none shall soon forget...
The War Testament of Caylen-Tor (On the Night of the Bloodying of Swords):
O' grim gods of battle, empower us this night...
Anoint us with the crimson rain, feed our steel with slaughter...
Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us victory, or a warrior's death.
Come, moon-fogs, Descend to cloak our numbers, the heady scent of battle beckons,
My ash-hafted spear feels good in my hands, girt 'round with spells (our flesh gloriously)
woad anointed,
Ravens awaiting slaughter soar high above, blood-worms bloat on red carnage,
I'll carve the moon-wheel in their flesh, as havoc churns the heather!
A swirling mantle of mist-magic swathes us, powerful spells woven by the fen-witches of
the great mere... Deep night and moon-mist shall be our allies as we surge into the fray!
At my bidding, the fog clears for a brief moment, and I gaze down upon the valley to
behold the army of the Witch-Queen... great tents arrayed upon the