Throughout the weeks leading up to these auspicious moments of Bloodlochian ambition, the city had engaged in repeated meetings and negotiations with Drakkenmont’s dreaded armada. Coordinating a plan of catastrophic intent, they aligned their interests to create a three-prong operation that would ensure that Varian’s Tree of Creation met its end. Though details were sparse amongst the public, clandestine operatives on both sides filtered information to their city-states, creating a game of informational cat and mouse.
Desperate to gird the Creator’s monument, the Watch facilitated collaboration betwixt famed ritualist Esrytesh ‘Sibatti’ dur Naya and numerologist Elene Arcan in a grand ritual designed to create and secure magical wards to the area surrounding the trees. Utilising the blood of Strife’s lone Adherent, they etched protective symbols in hopes of turning aside any assault short of a colossal ylemtech barrage.
While Maeve and Paxe rampaged through the realms of Chaos, the two Empires were ready to put their schemes into motion.
Though most of the Dreikathi airships had assembled in a loose crescent around the twin Trees of the Creators, one lagged behind to deploy a pair of enslaved dragons to see to some unknown task. Seizing upon the Argent Watch’s distraction at the foot of once-Yggdrasil, they deployed a colossal carrier of troops via these dual drakes that soon set a course for the tundral north. As they touched down outside the Theocracy’s gates, a salvo of ylemtech missiles erupted from the cloudy firmament and streaked down towards Spinesreach’s vulnerable streets.
Sensing danger from above, Tanixalthas unfurled Her massive wings and sheltered the city from Drakkenmont’s cruel onslaught. Her rage manifested as azurine lightning that ravaged the streets and impeded the Ursal swordsmen marching into the city amidst riotous calamity. Invading soldiers met the Theocratic guards in a brutal, catastrophic union, their swords and spells loosed with lethal intent. Though these loyal defenders put up an excellent fight, their resistance soon met the cruel, crushing fist of Polemarch Xandrelle herself.
Deploying several ylemnic orbs via her ixtamyl, the Governess of Greymarch quelled all opposition with blasts of ice, tar, fire, and even space-rending anomalies. Deploying poison gas in her wake, the vicious Dreikathi overseer crushed every Spirean citizen that dared stand before her. Though she put their corporeal forms ‘neath her despotic heel, the Polemarch failed to break the North’s spirit and they pressed on in an attempt to impede whatever aim it was she had here within the hallowed sanctuary of the Conclaves.
Carving a bloody trail through Spirean streets, Polemarch Xandrelle eventually found her way to the city’s catacombs. It was there that she held the line against the constant barrage of sorcery and arrows as her ixtamyl once more worked its magitechnical wonder upon the door barring the defunct Cabal’s precious vaults. After crushing another wave of defenders, the Governess stepped into the vault and set about capturing the ancient artifact imprisoned within its Numerologically-guarded depths: the Demon Blade.
Deploying a special suppression field generated by a ylemtech device, the Polemarch managed to nullify the fell relic’s subversive properties for long enough to carry it out of the catacombs and to the extraction point for her operation. Guarded by ranks of remaining Ursal swordsmen, she proceeded to the Spirean Institute and decimated all opposition in the name of glorious Drakkenmont as she awaited airship support. After one final, bloody sortie, Governess Xandrelle ascended upon a rope ladder and departed for skies unknown, the dreaded Demon Blade, once-prison of Ruin, in her grasp.
Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 4th of Variach, in the year 512 MA.