username: deimar

[jatharin]

( On this occasion, King Deimar in silvered splendor: tussled, armour scratched and drenched in blood and soot, surrounded each way by his men or Rathakku's creatures. He screams, just as harpies swing in: )

Fall back — fall back, fall back — ( An infantryman politely keels over, arrow driving through his ribs. Deimar stops to stare — ) ...maybe with less enthusiasm than that.

( But then, he's led to take cover off the field, and he can mutter into his pendant: )

Greetings, greetings. Your king speaks. Deimar. ( As if, perhaps, some need the reminder. ) Let's cut through pretence: Alem is lost. The merchants are offering their... obscenely costly help with evacuation. If we had any alternative or dignity, we would decline. It won't surprise you that I've agreed, gratefully. Go to Hassir. Yes, it's a monastery old and true. No, you cannot bring your wine.

( And gentler, firmer: ) It will have you. All of you who go, Hassir will have you, and it will save you. Make a new life, away from this mountain. Away from our blood's burden, away from Hell.

( Then lighter, in this breezy tone: )

...which, I regret to inform you, is opening nice, creaky and wide beneath our floorboard. You've heard the old stories: the Motherless Children beget their devastation, bolstered by whatever souls they consume in their putrid wasteland. They're breaking through. Terrible creatures. Filthy. Ugly, too.

To all men and women of Alem who are strong, gifted and able: I won't tell you to take up your weapons and join me below in glory. If you die there, no one will mourn you, no one will weep over your bones. No one will even remember you. No, they'll live peacefully, happily and oblivious to your sacrifice. But they'll live.

So. You have your choices: Hassir or Hell below. What say you?

( ooc: brainstorming post if you want to ICly figure out where characters are headed. Hell officially starts to open on March 18, but feel free to forward-date responses & threadjack at will. Good luck saving humanity! )

Comments

[jatharin]

And if we don't, what choice? ( But his voice comes bittersweet. )

Hell spills over. We die either way. At least... this way, we bide time for those escaping.

[somebadnews]

[ He won't labor the point, since he's yet to come up with a better suggestion. ]

Right. Maybe I'll see you down there.

[jatharin]

This isn't your quarrel. I don't expect it.

[somebadnews]

[ Before he was begging for volunteers, but even he seems to see the futility. ]

'Quarrel' is a bit of an understatement.

[jatharin]

If you're old enough to choose your own weapons, you can choose your own words.

[somebadnews]

With your permission, I'd call it a royal shitshow. [ And he's at least twice his age, thank you very much. ]

Pity you can't go down in history as a martyr if there's no one left to remember you. At least this one can't be blamed on us.

[jatharin]

And what would you have done better?

[somebadnews]

Nothing by the time we got here. But something triggered this. By the time Rathakku showed up, you were probably too late.

[ And really... ]

Although if you do somehow manage to find a way to seal it again, I'd recommend not building a kingdom on top of a gate to Hell.

[jatharin]

How else were we to contain it?

[somebadnews]

[ It's all moot now, isn't it? ]

Is it the only one that exists?

[jatharin]

That we know of, the only persistent mouth.

[somebadnews]

[ He hates that he calls it a mouth by the way. ]

Good to know. So all we need to do is close it and go back to fending off the undead.

[jatharin]

That I know of.