(Crossing, Zoluren: 370 Nissa 359)
"Well, Barash… Do I have a tale to tell. This has definately been one of the most exciting nights of my life since Graduating from Azemeth Academy nigh a decade ago," A man in a mud smudged, and blood-stained blue caftan says quietly, gliding up to the bar.
He sits down upon a stool, and extends his bandaged right hand to Barash, while hefting a black sword on his shoulder with his left. "Sympath Nuark Craylys of Ilithi. I have nae spoke to ye in years, Barash, but ’tis good to see you again. I’ll have some water," Nuark quietly says, putting the sword into his maroon backpack, and adjusting a stole, embroidered with garlands of herbs as he adjusts his position on the stool itself.
"Well, I’m sure that you’ve heard by now, with all the mixed emotion that there was about it, that there was a successful raid on Sorrow’s Reach yesterday. Things seem to be getting more and more complicated, and I cannae wait to collect my things, and head back home after a rest… In any event…
I was there for the events just leading up to the raid, the raid itself, and the backlash as well… So I suppose I’ll start with what happened before the raid.
My friend, and fellow empath Aleantha begged me to join in a ‘secret invasion’ upon my first seeing her in the city of Crossing. I reluctantly agreed, and went about the errands that I had planned while I was here. Eventually, I was called in to duty by Aleantha, Seihjin and a few others, and went to the Paladin’s guild. After discussing the plan of action with some of the leaders, a ghostly apparition appeared.
This ghost was a troubled spirit, said his name was ‘Ghregor’ in life, and told us all about the battle in which he died, and that for him to rest, he wanted to know the outcome of that battle, and what the fate of his lady-friend was. He then left us… and we were stuck wondering upon his words, and what their portent was…
Anyway, the army mustered, and gathered in the sealed tunnel in Sorrow’s Reach, where we were promptly attacked by lightning bolts, which were killing many of your Crossing’s finest warriors in one blow. Taunts were flung at Sorrow and his minions for a while, when we all heard the sounds of footsteps. A lot of footsteps. Soon we were surrounded by an army of a large multitude of troops. The battle begun in earnest. Warriors were falling left and right, and we empaths were soon struggling to keep this army breathing, and on its feet.
After a protracted battle, in which Sadiaer and Prayk fell at least once, Marstan must have finished his incantation. He was dragged out of the cave, Sadiaer screaming at him over the gweths for whatever it was that he did.." Nuark pauses in his recitation at this point to take a long pull from his glass of water, and to check the bandages around his hand, waist, and legs. He looks up at Barash with his dep purple eyes and smiles before continuing,
"We pulled out soon after… but the visions had already started. Visions obviously from the past, retelling Sorrow’s history from his own eyes. I went back to the Empath guild to clean myself up, and prepare to go home after a tough battle. But as the visions ended, I decided that I would say good by to some of my new comrades, and took a walk out toward Kaerna, when my head was filled with disconcerting thoughts from my Gwethdesuans. Marstan and his assistant Vaxin were taunting Sadiaer and Prayk, and the later pair were issuing some rather nasty threats at the former.
As I neared Kaerna, I found myself in the midsts of another massive battle, as Legions of Sorrow’s monsters besieged the Northern Trade Route, and infiltrated into the city of Crossing itself to kill Marstan. The warriors successfully defended the city, and the trade routes, and I, and a couple of friends made another strike into Sorrow’s Reach itself, thinning out the waves of enemies somewhat."
Nuark pauses again as he notices that the bandage around his waste is emitting blood on to the bar. He quickly appologizes, and changes that dressing before continuing,
"The citizens of the Provinces fought well. The hordes were forced back, and I came out of the battle with this," Nuark opens his back with his left hand, and partially lifts the hilt of the black sword that he walked in with out of the pack for a moment, before resealing it. "It turns out that Ghregor’s army did win that day 300 years ago, or so I estimate, and we did as well today. Marstan’s spell apparently broke some of Sorrow’s own spells, which were keeping him alive, and reportedly his body is aging at an enormous rate. I feel sorry for him. Sorrow has been defeated, and is slowly dying… but I doubt that we’ve seen the last of him. Although, I most likely have… I do intend to return home on the morrow. Have a good morning, Barash," Nuark says, polishing off his water. He stands, and walks out of the tavern.