In the beggining there were seven brave forumites that held the tide against all odds.
The minions of the Dark Lord Ur themselves trembled at their sight and ferocity.
But at the end, Ur himself came in the form of a head, bellowing the cry of victory for his forces.
Necrothreat was no more. The world was on the brink of disaster without even knowing.
Since then:
251 years have passed since the Great tragedy that led to the reshaping of the world.
251 years have passed since the Great battle at the gates of Necrothreat against the Necrothreaders.
251 years have passed since the Great sorrow of Armok for the losses of Necrothreat.
The world has since been reshaped and the survivors of the old races have rebuild, ready to forgo their ancient creed
and create a new one. It was exactly 251 years after the reshaping of the World from Armok's sorrow that those that
perished at the battle of Necrothreat were revived at the First of Granite.
Greater than before they were. Prepared and ready this time for the impending doom.
Their machines of war growled of magma and steel. It was a fortress made to withstand all sieges.
The first and last line of defense against the awoken Dark Lord Ur.
But that was not even their greatest glory. Their glory laid in the fact that they did the impossible.
They killed a god. Banished him from the graces of their will. Legends say that his name was Armok.
Then they did the impossible again.
The strongest of warriors of Necrothreat died, leaving only the oldest and most wise in the realm of the living.
But peace did not come to them. The Dark Lord stripped them from the right of death and imprisoned them in his realm.
Time did not exist in that place. Infinite pain was theirs, lost in limbo as they were. All was lost for them. Ur's haunting eyes on them always.
Willpower prevailed in the end and one of them found the others. Awoke them from their dreamless sleep in this abyss and gathered an army.
An army greater than any the living had seen, for this was an army of the greatest dead. They charged him in his tower of doom. The seat of his power.
And they beat him. It was a battle of undead against dead and the dead had prevailed. Ur's head rolled. He was no more. The dead once more became the living.
That was not the end the wisest among them knew, for the Dark Lord's students yet lived and spread chaos. And so they persisted.
But in the end the rivaling Necrothreaders created an alliance and attacked Necrothreat with everything. Carnage ensued with no winning side.
The land was in tatters. Black and ashen as it could be. The rivers, corrupted with unholy blood, now ran red.
It was then that the mightiest and wisest of them decided that this could go on no longer.
Miners worked day and night. Stills supplied a seemingly endless amount of booze. Darkness did not exist in Necrothreat. Then they were done.
Legends say that the land was a sea of light for miles, scorching everything in their path with unhindered speed. Rivers of blood were now rivers of magma.
And so the siege was over. The war was over. The necrothreaders were no more. Only weak remnants remained hidden throughout the world.
Then they came. From the bowels of the earth, an army of fire and darkness came. Necrothreat was breached and nearly everyone was dead in the blink of an eye.
That day they perished. A foe unknown now laid before the world with nobody to oppose him. The world was on the brink of unknowing disaster again.
However this was not the end as we saw it. Stories say that not everyone died with fire and sword at the great purge of Necrothreat.
Two survived, now ripping the fabrics of space and time. Both vanquished foes were yet again alive at their apex. They had not forgotten their hatred.
This is where our telling begins...
This is a story
of Greatness and Sadness,
of Tragedy and Glory,
of Forumites and Necrothreaders,
and this is
their story.
Chapter III of the Necrothreat Chronicles*Excerpt from a maddened forumite.*"Where are the Forumites I once knew,
The swords, the axe, the mace?
Oh where are they, the brave and true,
That I had loved to see.
The halls now ring silently
Cursing lack of life.
Oh where, oh where are they?
My heart with woe is rife.
Where once great pillars sweeping rose
Bejewelled in light and gold,
There now is naught, not even foes-
Their works have long been turned to mould.
A shade, I walk between the rooms
Where once sang bards with merriment;
Ah, how I long to hear their haunting tunes,
But oh, they’re gone, their beauty’s spent.
No more shall I be cast adrift
For I am here inside the Fort
Of Forumites, where long I dwelt
In blazing ball, in flow’ring court.
I turn my back from this drear place,
A tear is in my eye-
They’re gone, the Forumites,
An age has passed, I watched it die.
No more is bravery an art,
No longer NAV is drunk on joy.
We were the last alive to see
A place the gods could not destroy.
“Where are my friends,” I sigh
And in the sky the sun begins to climb.
“Where did they go?” I whisper; cry,
Distraught, a second time.
Behind is Necrothreat,
Ahead the whole of life and light,
But I would throw it all to hell,
For one more glimpse, a single sight….
Of halls that gleam and glitter white,
Then red, then green, then blue!
Of faces harsh and hard,
But nonetheless honest and true.
Mayhap also I would see the land
Around turn green, fertile and ripe,
But more I’d love to see the men,
The ones who fought for what was right.
And then I’d see the people live,
And walk, and talk-just live their lives!
Oh what I’d give to see that sight
With these two weary eyes."
Credit to Th4DwArfY1 for the poem. If you want more of them, check out
Necrothreat II.
Author
Topic: Necrothreat III, whatever that is (Read 320516 times)