A titan arc with five thousand fresh recruits arrived on January 7, 452. Now the years are the same, year after year. It always rains in December. No matter how hard they try, the reinforcements always arrive a week too late.
It rained.
This was the first rain.
When it rains hell tries to take over the island.
The rain is now called the rain of the demon spawning.
Half the forces of hell that rushed the surface were reanimate dead.
People were fighting their own comrades
who had been slain, or gone... mad, or been eaten. They were
twisted, or burnt, or fanged, or winged, or scaled, or green, or
rotten, or combinations of these things. There were teams of
skeletons riding on the backs of rock lizards who shot flamming
arrows at the roofs. Arrows shot back at them passed through
the skeletons harmlessly.
There were
enormous worms.
Great demons would
magically transport behind the greatest of the wizard heros and
strike them dead, only to magically teleport away before revenge
could be had. They thronged through the streets like rivers and
waves of burning flesh, every one armed with a burning mithril sword
that would cut through rock.
The few
lessons that were learned by the very few survivors were never
forgoten. First the forces of chaos attack in three waves, the
shock troops, the teleporting assassins, and the magical coup de
gras. Second no demon, devil, feind, or teleporting assassin
could cross onto holy ground, and the ony survivors were those who
made it to the private chapels, public shrines, tombs of saints, tops
of the dwarven mountain, or into the large churches. Third and
lastly, any one who was on drugs when it rained became a demon before
every ones' eyes. This is why the rain was named "The
Demon Spawning". It rained for six days. Of the
thirty two survivors the least had killed eighty seven minions.
The greatest had lost count, but had to be dug out from under the
pile of bodies. Every one who survived was promoted to at least
the rank of baron, and most were made counts by the other survivors
who were dukes and kings themselves. Laughing and joking
everyone was promoted. What difference did it make, one more
wave of attack and the island would be lost.
A titan arc with five thousand fresh
recruits arrived on January 7, 452. Now the years are the same,
year after year. It always rains in December. No matter
how hard they try, the reinforcements always arrive a week too late.