Plergoth Press/Issue Eight

http://wiki.battlemaster.org/images/Plergoth.png The Plergoth Press
Bring in Valhalla's head, get a lifetime subscription!	Editor: Mendrugo	Issue Eight, October
The main propaganda sheet and newspaper of Plergoth!

We're Back!

October 18, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

After several months of silence (daimonfyre's quite literally hell on wooden printing presses), the Plergoth Press is back in publication. We'll be keeping you up to date on all the events affecting Plergoth and Beluaterra.

A Summary of the Daimon Wars

October 18, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

Months ago, agents of the Monster Swarm and the Necromancer's Servants began to appear in Beluaterra on cryptic quests to acquire mystical items related in some way to daimonic powers. We now know that these armies appeared in Beluaterra from the Monster Island and the Necromancer's Island via mystical portals.

These ever increasing numbers of Undead and Monster battle leaders made threats and promises to realms across Beluaterra, demanding the delivery of these mystical items and forcing governments into "join or die" alliances. Over the course of a month, most of the Beluaterran realms allied with the Necromancer's Servants, while Sint, Heen and Vlaanderen allied with the Monster Swarm. A precious few nations, such as Khthon, steered a neutral course.

The alliance-building phase was followed by large-scale warfare, as the Necromancer's Servants battled the Monster Swarm, and each side attacked the allies of their enemy. Avalon (an early ally of the Undead) was ravaged by Monster attacks, while Heen (a Monster Swarm ally) was devastated by an Undead invasion. Throughout the fighting, the Monsters and Undead exhorted their human allies to join the fighting against their human and inhuman enemies.

Then, at the peak of the fighting, a mysterious adventurer named Alfredo appeared from nowhere in Eg Tutnu, asking to speak to a priest. He was brought to the central Daishi temple in Creasur, and there was ministered to by priests of Daishi. He possessed a dagger imbued with Daimonic powers, and said he felt something evil growing within him. As the priests of Daishi were unable to do anything to help him, they released him. It appears that the evil growing within him was a portal to the Netherworld, and it is likely that he made it as far as Zisswii before being transformed into a gateway to Hell. Fortunately, the Daishi priests did not attempt to slay him in Creasur, as the portal would likely have formed there, instead.

We presume that several other adventurers had similar experiences across Beluaterra. Shortly after the disappearance of Alfredo, portals to the Netherworld opened in Zisswii and Jobo's Mouth, and hundreds of powerful daimons emerged and began to war upon the peoples of Beluaterra. Each of the inhuman factions told their allies a different story about the Daimons. The Undead stated that the daimons were the spawn of an ancient Dragon that had been defeated by the heroic Necromancer in the ancient past, and that the Undead were prepared to battle them again. The Monsters stated that the undead were escaped slaves of the daimons, and that the hellspawn had emerged to recapture their wayward servants.

Regardless of their reasons, the daimons began to cut swathes of destructon across the island, smashing all opposition. Even when strong human armies managed to defeat a Daimon horde, their leaders would be instantly resurrected and fresh hordes would emerge from the underworld. With more and more regions falling under the sway of the Netherworld, the Undead abruptly abandoned all their alliances and began attacking human settlements at the behest of their daimonic masters. The Monster Swarm had been telling the truth!

With the gates of the Netherworld now wide open, more oddities came to pass. A large group of so-called "lost souls" appeared briefly in Creasur and marched eastward, not having been seen since. Though clearly daimonic in nature, they appeared to be unaligned with the Netherworld forces ravaging Beluaterra.

Seemingly not content with having reclaimed their undead slaves, the daimons began carving out strongholds on the surface of Beluaterra. By force of arms, they wrested many lands from Sint, and then entered into an alliance with that dragon-worshipping land. Likewise, daimonlords were inducted into the government of the rebel-realm of Vlaanderen. (Throughout the early invasion, rebel leader Valhalla had attempted to beguile the Undead and Monsters into attacking Plergoth - but trying to co-opt the strength of the Daimons was a grave mistake...)

In a stunning development, the daimonlord Arcane has overthrown the human government of Valhalla, and created a theocracy with himself at its head. The former Plergothian people living in the breakaway land are now ruled by the daimons and dominated by the grip of evil. Human armies are weak and scattered, and even now a vast horde of daimons is advancing on Creasur.

Is this the end?

A New Hope

October 18, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

Fear not, loyal readers. For there is a ray of hope! In the past month, freemen and outlaws across Beluaterra have been finding curious objects called "portal stones". It was initially rumored that a collection of eight such stones, when used together, could open gateways to other worlds. However, their true function was recently demonstrated when eight such stones were combined to permanently seal a portal to the Necromancer's Island over the inland sea.

If more such stones could be found, and quickly, the portals to the Necromancer's Island, the Netherworld and Monster Island could be closed, and the people of Beluaterra could once more live without the omnipresent threat of inhuman armies. A guild dedicated to finding and using the stones - The Beluaterran Alliance - has formed in Creasur and counts both nobles and adventurers among its ranks. There are also rumors that a secret society with similar goals is near to collecting eight stones of its own, though for what purpose none can say...

Daimons Attack Creasur!

October 19, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

As evening fell in Creasur, a vast army of daimons approached Plergoth's capital. Knowing from previous experience that the towering walls, stake-filled ditches and thick ramparts were little defense against these winged hellbeasts, most of the city's residents had already fled, choking the roads leading from the city with carts, wagons, and refugees carrying their worldly possessions on their backs, all trying to escape the coming conflagration.

A skeleton force of devout militia remained at their posts, having sworn to the Armored Gods of Daishi that they'd die before abandoning the defense of the temple. Forming a double-ring around the sacred grounds, they waited in grim anticipation as the ground began to shake underneath the cloven hooves of the Netherworld armies.

With a flash of flame and a shower of splinters, the great timber gates of Creasur were rent asunder, and the Pitlord Devastating stepped through into the streets of our great city. The towering creature stood easily 20 feet high from hoof to horn (not counting his 15-foot wingspan). It was clad in spiked black armor plate - the Daimon Armor of Devastation. The creaking of the armor's joints resembled the screams of damned souls, and the blackness of the armor seemed to drink in the very light of the setting sun. In his claws, the Pitlord clutched a massive two-headed battle axe, inscribed with horrific runes the color of dried blood - the Daimon Axe of Devastation.

Devastating brandished his axe and bellowed a command in the harsh languge of the Netherworld. At once, his armies began to spread out through the city, seeking food (and any commoners who'd unwisely remained in the city) to devour. They avoided the Temple of Daishi, however - leaving it for Devastating's personal attentions.

With a cruel laugh and a leering smile that displayed far too many sharp teeth, Devastating advanced on the militia positions. Arrows hissed through the air. Most richocheted harmlessly off the Pitlord's mystical armor, but a few shafts found their mark, burying themselves in the daimon's scaly hide. Devastating was hardly even slowed. As he reached the infantry lines, he swung his axe, shattering swords and shields and tossing dismembered corpses hundreds of feet through the air.

A fresh volley of lethal broadheads erupted from the bellfry of the Daishi temple, where the last archers made their stand. Devastating laughed, then belched forth balls of daimonfyre from his distended maw. Within seconds, the bellfry was ablaze, and the burning forms of the archers toppled to the ground.

The battle was over. Creasur belonged to the Daimons.

Netherworld Demands Fealty From Realms of Man

October 19, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

The final resistance to Netherworld rule in the rebel realm of Vlaanderen collapsed yesterday, following the abrupt capitulation of Nymatal. We have this report from an observer on the scene:

Arcane was in the royal palace with all the rebellious troops. Just as they were about to storm the last stronghold of Nymatal, Arcane barked orders, "Stop! I will deal with him myself." With that, he went into the room and closed the door. 5 minutes later, Nymatal himself marched through the door, turned around to the door and yelled loudly, "All hail the new Pontifex, Arcane! May we follow his strength and character forever!"

And with that, Arcane walked out and was hailed as the new Pontifex.

Now that the Pitlord Arcane has been declared Pontifex of the corrupted realm of Vlaanderen, he has declared himself a living god (much as the daimons of Sint have declared themselves avatars of Hemaglobe). Midday yesterday, Pontifex Arcane issued the following demand to the realms on his border:

Neighbour!

You are lucky to live so close to the realm of glory, and you should be almost able to see the radiance of my presence from your city.

Speaking of which. Want to keep it?

You have noticed my brothers in your regions. One word from me and they will move away.

All I ask is that you bow and say "please".

Given what happened to the rebel government of Vlaanderen when they joined up with the Netherworld, I suspect that neighboring realms will think twice before bowing to Pontifex Arcane.

Victory for Humanity! Zisswii Portal Sealed!

October 22, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

The Beluaterran Alliance made a bold counterstrike against the Daimons, successfully organizing an effort to bring eight Portal Stones to the hellgate in Zisswii (the primary reinforcement point for their stronghold in Vlaanderen) and seal the portal. This dangerous undertaking was undertaken in secret with the aid of numerous brave adventurers.

The Beluaterran Alliance initially tasked Freeman Uriel with gathering and carrying eight portal stones to the gate. With the help of several other adventurers, he soon amassed the necessary stones in Creasur and set out on the journey to the infernal mountains of Zisswii. As he progressed, his reports (sent by courier) became increasingly erratic:

Three days ago:

Um ... my memories of the last few days seem somewhat clouded, events seem to blur. It is the glory of holding the stones. They are the beacon that guides my steps, the light that dispells the shadows, the warmth of my heart and the locus of my being .........

*something that could be drool has stained the paper*

I must ... I must prote... destroy the gate. Yes ... destroy - gotta remember that. That - that was important. Once.

The quest nears completion. Soon, I shall fuse with the stones, and United in a Higher Being we shall enter ... no, wait. Um ...

Where was I? I will meet with Samwise here in Gaxano, and we shall ... we shall close the portal. Yes.

Two days ago:

My fellow adventurers,

The quest to close the undead portal in Zisswii is at but complete. Soon, I shall merge with the stones, and in my new enlightened form I shall enter the Portal and ascend the Throne of Despair.

When I have closed the portal, the lands will again be free of the undead scourge. My armies shall crush all resistance without mercy, but to you I offer the chance to become captains and lords.

Wish me luck - if I survive this last stretch of the quest, drinks are on me tomorrow. Soon, all shall bow before me, and I offer you this single chance to rule at my side!

After this final communication, Uriel disappeared with the Portal Stones. The mission seemed doomed to failure. Fortunately, through the heroic efforts of Lady Phoebe, the mission continued:

As Uriel has been arrested — I know not by whom — I must now carry on in his place. - Phoebe

Working with other adventurers who had converged on the region, Phoebe was able to gather eight more stones and carry them to the Netherworld hellgate.

One day ago:

"At last!" Phoebe murmurs as she begins placing the stones in a circle on a shoulder of the highest peak of Zisswii. "I was afraid we'd be eaten before we got a chance to do this..."

She glances down the slope at the other adventurers watching. Some look suspicious, others hopeful, others clearly don't know what to expect. Well, they'll see soon enough...

Phoebe places the last stone in its place in the ring, and the stones begin to glow. Then she takes out a dagger from a hidden sheath, and slashes her right palm. She squeezes three drops of blood onto the last stone in the circle, and the glow changes suddenly.

Placing her hands on the stone, smearing more fresh blood onto it, Phoebe begins to attempt to exert her will over the stones. Grant me the power, O mighty ones, she calls silently. Give me dominion...

At length, the glow from the stones reaches a crescendo, and light erupts from the center of them into the night sky, blinding Phoebe and throwing her backwards. Blinking the spots from her eyes, she stands shakily, and laughs. "It works!" she cries. She turns to the other adventurers, who stand looking on in wonder, and she smiles fiercely. Hah! Fools...they think only of using the stones to serve the arrogant nobles on this continent. Well, they've all got another think coming...

"I've got to make sure it really closes the portal!" she calls out to them, then turns back to the stones, and places her hands on the blood-smeared stone again, chanting an ancient litany from her homeland under her breath—a litany that calls for power, power to bend others to one's will. The light still flowing up from the stones burns her hands, but she barely feels it, so intent is she on gaining the power she seeks...

The portal stones glow brightly, then they slowly drift up into the sky.

Not far from the ground, they begin to rotate, and pulse. Energy waves lighten up the evening sky. Then, suddenly, a portal becomes visible, a hundred feet above the mountains.

The stones start to fly towards the portal, growing and forming one massive stone-gate. They slam into the portal opening, sealing it shut.

Then, gate and portal fade from view, and an unearthly silence falls over the land...

The Pitlord Arcane was quick to react to the closure of his portal, his disembodied voice booming like thunder across the mountains:

Fools!!

I want any and all adventurers in Zisswii and any surrounding regions arrested immediately.

Judge, torture them all. Then check if they have seen the glory and are willing to serve without question. Kill everyone who doesn't.

Except for that Phoebe. Don't touch her, she belongs to me.

As of last report, most members of the Beluaterran Alliance were able to successfully evade capture and escape the Daimon-controlled regions. Adventurers - those affiliated with the Alliance as well as those working on their own or with other societies and guilds - will continue to gather Portal Stones, and very soon the inhumans will be cut off from their sources of power and defeated!

Netherworld-Corrupted Vlaanderen Regime Widens Aggression

October 22, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

The Theocracy of Vlaanderen, headed by the daimonic Pontifex Arcane, has begun to expand their territory through more than just threats.

The Vlaanderen saboteur Ivadd struck at the Khthonian holdings in Weghie two days ago, creating severe disruption among the Khthonian occupation government. Shortly thereafter, both Weghie and the Khthonian mountain realm of Pel Mark split off from Khthon and pledged allegiance to Vlaanderen.

Continuing their aggression, Arcane today officially declared war against the Republic of Fwuvoghor. Reports coming from inside Vlaanderen indicate that most of the rebels in that realm have willingly joined the new regime, at the cost of their very souls.

Plergoth on Mission of Mercy to Zdenka

October 22, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

With the collapse into anarchy of Zdenka, the region has become increasingly infested by monsters, bandits and rogue bands of undead. After the second incursion into Ypsilanti by inhuman warbands operating out of this rogue region, the armies of Plergoth have sallied forth to restore order.

Construction gangs and police units are presently sweeping through Zdenkan population centers, repairing roads and mills, and providing security for shepherds and farmers against bandits and raiders. It is hoped that a new provisional government will be able to take hold in the region in the near future, and that it will pledge allegience to Plergoth for at least the duration of this time of crisis.

Zdenka Joins Plergoth

October 22, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

In a festive ceremony in front of the blackened timbers where the Zdenkan Baronial hall once stood, the provisional government of Zdenka pledged fealty to Plergoth. Overjoyed for the restoration of law and order and to once again have an organized military providing security and safety from wandering monsters and restless corpses, the people of Zdenka put on their best holiday raiment and danced the night away.

The Plergothian armsmen who have been working on restoring the roads and farms of this region today literally cannot buy their own ale, and are not wanting for companionship. Hail Zdenka! Long may she prosper under Plergothian rule!

Slaughter in Ypsilanti

October 24, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

The following is an account given by Captain Wulfric, commander of the Dynasty Guard archer company.

The farmstead was already ablaze as we approached, sending a plume of sooty black smoke billoweing into the sky, visible from leagues away. That was how we found 'em - wyverns! A pack of the blasted flying lizards had crossed the border looking for food.

As we broke from the treeline, we saw three of the beasts. Two young were frolicking in the sheep pasture, entertaining themselves by swooping low over the terrified flock and snapping up the doomed animals as they ran mindlessly about. A larger female was circling the farmhouse, spitting bursts of flame into the already blazing roof thatch. Screams from inside indicated that at least some of the farmers were still alive.

As the roof began to collapse, three people - a farmwife and her two children burst through the door and began to run for the safety of the treeline. With a triumphant scream, the adult wyvern spread her wings and launched herself in pursuit. A well aimed gout of flaming breath struck the farmwife, turning her into a flaming effigy that ran a few steps more before collapsing on the ground behind her children. Holding each other, the children ran onwards, and had nearly reached the treeline when shadows darkened the skies above them.

Two adult males dove out of the clouds, plummeting earthwards at great speed. At the last moment, they veered upwards and grasped the children with their cruel talons, carrying them upwards to disappear back behind the clouds. Moments later, a small, bloody stump of an arm fell to earth.

Enraged, my men attacked at once. A lethal storm of broadhead arrows sought the female as she feasted on the charred remains of the farmwife. Her tough, scaly hide turned many a shaft, but a skillfully aimed shot pierced her eye and drove into her brain, killing her instantly. Over in the fields, pikemen with nets had grounded the younglings and were hacking and stabbing them as their rent and tangled wings fluttered uselessly. Attracted by their piteous wails, the adult males swooped towards our lines, shrieking defiance and belching flame. Our answering volleys tore at their wings and snouts, and as they slashed at us with their sharp claws, our armsmen answered with their blades and axes. Within an hour, the beasts had been slaughtered and the people of Ypsilanti were safe from their depradations.

Khthon Nearing Collapse

October 24, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

A spate of recent daimon attacks, and acts of sabotage, along with the growing influence of the neighboring Daimon-controlled realm of Vlaanderen, has caused the near collapse of the realm of Khthon. Billing itself as a "Realm of Heroes", Khthon was a staunch ally of Vlaanderen during its rebellion against Plergoth. When the inhuman armies began emerging into Beluaterra, Khthon watched with revulsion as its ally was one of the first to make a pact with the Monster Swarm and later climbed in bed with the Netherworld.

In the past week, Khthon's control over its lands has waned considerably, and many of its lands have either gone rogue or revolted and gone over to the corrputed realm of Vlaanderen. With the loss of Gaxano, only its battered capital of Dyomoque and the plainsland of Tindle (a territory that switched allegiance from Plergoth to Khthon last year, when Plergoth was having similar difficulties maintaining authority) remain.

While Plergoth and Khthon have battled fiercely against each other over the past year, we regarded them as misguided puppets of the Vlaanderen rebels, and made common cause with them against the Daimons and Monster Swarm. It sorrows us to see their realm teetering on the brink of dissolution and assimilation by the evil Vlaanderen regime.

Unfortunately, Plergoth may be the next victim of Vlaanderen's unholy attentions.

Another Portal Closes

October 25, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

Reports are flooding into our offices that the nation of Riombara has managed to seal a portal to Necromancer Island in Shifgrethor. We bring you the following report from the Plergoth Press' war correspondent on the scene:

The portal stones shivered and rose slowly up into the air, suspended by nothing but some inate magic.

A flash, a sound, a shockwave. Suddenly, for a moment, the clouds parted and light shone on the land and the ocean. And over the ocean, to the south-east, a portal became visible, floating in the sky.

The portal stones accelerated, flying towards the portal at great speed. They grew, forming a solid gate. They slammed into the portal, sealing it shut.

Another shimmer, another sound, and the closed portal faded from view.

This makes three of the seven known (or suspected) portals closed. The Netherworld portal in Zisswii, and the Undead portals in Mio Dupaki and now Shifgrethor. The tide is turning in this invasion, but much work remains to be done.

Undead Rampage in Zdenka

October 25, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

No sooner had the banner of Plergoth been erected over the anarchic territory of Zdenka than it was torn down again and trampled underfoot by a large zombie horde under the command of Dreadlord Sarge.

Sarge issued a warning to Plergoth:

Take over these regions once we're gone...you'll know when it is safe to. Till then, you will lose so much more for testing our patience.

The depraved dreadlord then set his rotting corpse-soldiers to the task of killing, raping and burning across the region.

---

Dreadlord Sarge sits astride his skeletal mount, surveying his minions as they swarm through the nearby village. The thatch-roofed dwellings are blazing nicely and his minions are efficiently making a pile of freshly slain bodies in the village square. The choicest will be animated for service in the ranks, while the rest will serve as a warning to his enemies.

A loud burst of moaning and grunting from the ruins of the Omniovoism church rises above the screams and crackling of the flames, attracting his attention. In the graveyard, dozens of zombies are frantically exhuming the graves and...erm...violating the remains of the deceased therein.

Sarge sighs heavily and placed his gauntleted glove over his eyes, shaking his head. "It's so hard to find good help these days..."

New Religion in Vlaanderen

October 25, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

With its transformation into a theocracy under the self-styled "God King" Arcane, Vlaanderen has experienced a shift in its established religion. Omniovoism has been cast aside in favor of a theology that directly worships the Pitlord Arcane. A new temple is being constructed in Reeds, and Arcane has issued a call to nobles across Beluaterra to come and offer up prayers to him in the hope of mercy and salvation.

As of deadline, the Plergoth Press has been unable to contact any priests of Omnivoism for their reaction. It is, in fact, believed that enslaved Omniovoists are being used as a labor force for the construction of the temple of Arcanism.

Interview With a Beastlord

October 26, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

Recently, one of the Press' intrepid reporters had a unique opportunity to interview Big Fangs, the leader of the Monster Swarm. Our correspondent asked the hulking brute about many things, including the importance of magical items, portals to Monster Island, the source of the Monsters' gold, and their knowledge of the Daimons. Here is Big Fangs' response, in his own words:

PP: Why have you called for items to be given to you? What use do you have for them?

BF: Items of good use against Daimons. They help all in battle with them, but we bigger than you so they have even more effect when use by comrades. We have kill Daimon when use item, but Daimon appear again some new place. Daimonic items much stronger than other items. We had one for while, but Daimon took it back from comrade when he captured, he escape when try execute though, so that good.

PP: The Necromancers' Servants and Netherworld daimons came through Portals from other planes. Did the Monster Swarm come through portals from Monster Island? I thought you were native to Beluaterra.

BF: I said other human already, we not know what portals are, humans speak and ask us but not tell us what they are so we not know what they asking. As say about portals already, we not know what you talk of when say that word. It mean nothing to us.

PP: You have promised gold in exchange for the items you want. You don't seem to collect taxes, and I can't recall hearing that you've looted as you've waged war across the island. Where did you get this gold?

BF: We get gold from us travels. Some humans very bad in early time and help undead and fight comrades. We took from them try make them see wrong they were. Avalon we punish because they execute comrade. We still want destroy them for that.

PP: You appear to be able to understand Daimon speech. What is your relation to them, and what do you know about them?

BF: Daimon language not same as our native tongue, but of tongue of old that similar and remembered by comrades. We fight them because they bad. They being here mean us home not safe and comrades risk, as all life risk, being gone for ever unless Daimons stopped and gone back.

The Last of the Beastmen

October 26, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

Burnt Eye entered the woodland clearing cautiously, sniffing the air to detect any possible threat to his warclan. He growled in frustration. Too many scents. This woodland was alive with the scents of life - rotting vegetation, scent markers left by lesser animals to mark their territory, the sweet aroma of woodland flowers, even woodsmoke from a distant farmstead. He sniffed again, trying to sense the faint stink of hu-man sweat, the metallic tang of their armor, or the suphurous stench of hellspawn. That last odor had been all to prevalent these last few weeks, since the annihilation of the Monster Swarm army his warclan had been a part of. Fleeing down through the mountains and across the plains of Weghie towards the woodlands of Xinjin, many of his clanbrothers had fallen before the daimons.

Sensing nothing, Burnt Eye signaled to his brethren to leave the concealment of the trees and emerge onto the meadow. He squinted through his good eye (the other having been reduced to bubbling ruin by a jet of daimonfyre in the high passes of Ippetimbal) at the small herd of cattle grazing on the sparse grass. Bony and malnourished, they would still seem a feast to his warclan. He bellowed a command to his lieutenants - Stump Tail and Long Paw - to slay the cattle and prepare for feasting.

While the wounded sat down in the shade of the trees, the still-fit members of the warclan burst into a run. Their shaggy manes trailed behind them as they loped across the meadow towards the doomed cattle, their fanged maws already slavering at the prospect of hot blood and fresh meat.

Abruptly, an arrow shaft blossomed in Long Paw's chest, and he fell, skidding across the dew-slicked grass to lie in a motionless heap against a tree stump. More arrows rained down among the warclan. A horn sounded from the woods - hu-mans! An ambush! On all sides, armored hu-mans emerged from concealment, garbed in metal skins and holding their metal weapons. Some shouted in their thin, reedy manspeak - "For Plergoth! Death to the monsters!"

Burnt Eye answered them with a powerful roar. He was Burnt Eye, chief of his warclan, veteran of a dozen battles. He charged the nearest hu-man, swatting aside its metal blade and delivering a savage kick to its chest. Its metal skin buckled inwards, and the man fell, screaming. With a ferocious slash, Burnt Eye's claws severed the hu-man's head. Hot, pungent blood sprayed out onto the grass, staining it scarlet.

The howls and roars of his warclan intensified, and they raced towards the human battle line with blood in their eyes. An arrow sank itself deep into Burnt Eye's thigh, causing him to stumble. When he rose, he saw his warclan grappling with the metal-skin hu-mans. Roars shook the air, and many hu-mans fell, wounded or slain. But the hu-mans fought back, and more and more clanbrothers fell, hacked and bleeding to the meadow floor. Within minutes, Burnt Eye stood alone.

He had failed. Led his warclan to its death here in the hu-man lands. Burnt Eye threw his head back and let forth an anguished howl of loss and pain as the Plergothian soldiers surrounded him.

Death, when it came, was a welcome relief from sorrow.

Inhuman Uprising Strikes Plergoth

October 29, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

With the Dreadlord Sarge continuing to marshal his forces just over the border in Qhunomite, several small groups of rogue inhumans have taken advantage of the army's preoccupation and staged violent uprisings in Prevos, Zdenka, Ypsilanti and Zuhle. The Defenders of Plergoth crushed a monster infestation in Zdenka, then moved against an undead horde in Prevos, only to face more organized Undead threats under the command of Dreadlords Dominus and Maldiciones moving into Zdenka from Midbote.

With the Defenders engaged in southern Plergoth, warclans of beastmen have risen up in Jaekind and Zuhle. Several shepherds have been slain, and terrified countryfolk have been gathering in villages for protection. Scouts sent out (those that have returned) report that many large trees in forest clearings have had their bark mutilated by the rampaging beastmen. What at first appeared to be merely clawmarks on the trunk, upon closer examination was revealed to be crude pictures of a beastman with one eye.

The Capture of Dreadlord Dominus

October 30, 1007 | By: Mendrugo

In the gloomy, rain-soaked land of Zdenka, the night hid its secrets well. Thick clouds blotted out the moon and stars, and a steady, soaking downpour was weather not fit for to be out in for man nor beast. But it was neither man nor beast that now advanced on Zdenka's war-torn villages. It was the unliving, the foully reanimated scourge brought forth upon Beluaterra by the Necromancer and his vile servants.

By the hundreds, they crossed into Zdenka in a vast, shambling column. At the van rode two black-garbed figures upon skeletal mounts - the Dreadlords Maldiciones and Dominus. They advanced silently through the darkness, their minds intent only on destruction and vengeance. Zdenka had a role to play in the Master's plan, and his Servants would cleanse the Plergothian filth from this land in preparation.

Flashes of lightning briefly illuminated their target - the central village, where Plergoth's banner flapped boldy in the stormwinds. Maldiciones turned to face Dominus, his eyes flashing redly beneath his cowl. Dominus nodded in unspoken acknowledgement, then raised his battle-lance overhead and emitted an unearthly keening wail. The skeletal warriors in their wake heeded the call to battle, unlimbering weapons and charging forwards towards the village. Dominus smiled. Many new souls would be added to his legions this night.

The Dreadlords sat and waited as their minions disappeared into the velvet blackness, eagerly awaiting the screams and the delicious terror that accompanied a successful attack. The night remained silent, broken only by the pitter-patter of rain, and the occasional rumble of distant thunder. Long minutes passed. Maldiciones glared at Dominus, his crimson gaze questioning.

Dominus let forth another wailing call. Return! Report! It was met only by the steady patter of the rain. For long minutes, nothing. Then, movement! From out of the enveloping blackness, a figure stirred, limping towards them. A zombie of the third cohort, its left arm severed, an ax-blade buried in its skull and trailing several feet of putrid intestines. It struggled to speak.

"Aaaammmbursssh! Pwagowf!"

Before it could continue, the steel tip of a battle lance emerged from its chest, and the creature flew apart in a shower of gray-green flesh and putrescent organs. Plergothian cavalry! An entire troop of mounted soldiers emerged from the gloom, fanning out and surrounding the two Dreadlords. Their leader shook the remnants of the zombie from his lance and spat.

"Kill 'em if they try to escape." He chuckled. "An' kill 'em again if'n they get back up. Lord Aravan'll have some fun puttin' 'em to th' question in Creasur's dungeons." The cavalry, lances leveled, closed in on the Dreadlords.

Dominus and Maldiciones wheeled their undead mounts and raced towards the Plergothian cavalry line, steeling themselves as they hurtled towards the wall of lance heads. Dominus chopped savagely at the first lance with his dark blade, shattering the wooden shaft, but a second lance connected with his midriff, slicing through his mail shirt and sliding beneath his ribs, just missing his shriveled heart. Torn from the saddle, he fell to earth with a bone-jarring crash.

Lance-heads also sought Maldiciones, but glanced harmlessly away from the Dreadlord enchanted buckler, serving only to rend his midnight-black cloak, revealing a glowing blue gemstone hanging around the creature's neck. The cavalry commander shouted in alarm as the fiery red eyes of the Necromancer's Servant bore down on him, his yells cutting off abruptly as bluish beam of energy shot out from the gemstone, instantly freezing him solid. With a blow from his gruesome spiked mace, Maldiciones shattered the frozen man, scattering reddish chunks across the muddy ground as he rode into the darkness, cackling madly.

The surviving cavalrymen surrounded Dominus where he lay in the mud, twitching feebly as he attempted to pull the rain-slick lance shaft from his side. One of the men dismounted and delivered a powerful kick to the side of Dominus' head, driving it further into the mud and quieting his struggles.

"Lord Aravan ain't gonna be happy we lost his buddy. Be my guess he's gonna take it out on his sorry hide. Bastard Dreadlord's gonna wish he'd never been resurrected when we're done with 'im."