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Light the Flux-Fires

War. The drumbeat of war sounded throughout the Mortal Realms. In Ghur, armies mustered in the wild places, as the great powers sought to claim dominion over uncertain ground. And amongst the most uncertain was the Great Fenland of Chiropteros – better known to its inhabitants as the Ghost Bat Bog.  

These fenlands are an ever-shifting sump of thick grasses and bald patches of rough, muddy ground, dotted with the broken remnants of a hundred forgotten marsh-kingdoms. Trees rise wild among the peatlands, growing strong on a charnel feast served over centuries. The dead still walk within sunken mansions in the Ghost Bat Bog, and strange, cyclopean shapes prowl the misty marshes, preying on the degenerate descendants of the old kingdoms. 

It is among these savage marsh-folk that the Unseen first came, as the skies grew black with the war storm. He – or she, for none knew who or what they were, beneath their golden helm and dark robes – spoke cryptic truths, and drew the marsh-folk out of hiding, helping them to recall the ancient arts they had long forgotten – or perhaps never known in the first place… (more…)

Cry of the Cockatrice

By the light of the flux-fires, the acolytes waited and murmured uneasily among themselves. In the hellish glow of the great bonfires, daemon-shapes murmured softly, eagerly, in a tongue that none save the adepts, in their feathered war-masks , could understand. 

Abruptly, the flux-fires blazed up, clawing at the stars above, as if to wrench them from the firmament. For a moment, the flames wavered and split, as if parted by monstrous hands, and beyond them, a howling void of endless colour and light spun in a lunatic pattern. 

A moment later, a tall, masked figure stepped forth from within the shimmering flux-flames, staff in hand. The acolytes stiffened attentively, as the newcomer began to speak. Perhaps it was time, at last, for the Cockatrice Conclave to go to war…  (more…)