The Thief of Days

The day gives way to night on November 21st just as any other. The A.S.F.D. are making rounds keeping all the people of Aranta safe from the things in the wilds.  Several squads check in with the complaint of extra bandit/wastelander activity. The squad leaders fill out their reports and send them on their way.  Sadly, the note will never make it to its destination. The small waves of wastelanders, vampires, banes, and famori, give way to a small skirmish.  The skirmish does not last long as the attacking forces seem to be nothing more than mindless bodies that move and attack anyone in their path.  The soldiers do the normal sweep afterward collecting the spoils of victory.  Most of the personnel have Dystopian tracking chips or some form clothing from their contracted partner domain.  The outer posts regroup to count losses and to start filling out their reports.  Nearly finished, the silence of the night is interrupted yet again.  However, this silence would not return to the lands of Arunta for another 3 days. The horizon is swarmed with countless armies of Dystopians that seem to have gone mad.  They kill and loot everything in their path. The outer cities are lost before they truly understand what is happening.

The scouts sent with the messages of abnormal wasteland movements have made their way to the main cities of Antechamber, Toronto, Detroit, and Salamah.  They all meet in the industrial section of their respective cities.  The  scout heads inside of iron and steel mills on the far side of the cities  from the military compounds.  Each of them leaves the report with random people who work in the mill.  They say nothing to one another, just hand off the note, nod their head, and walk away.

As the dark sun rises to meet a new day so does an army of Dystopians to attack.  The number of mindless clones on the horizon reaches farther than a human eye can see.  War is no longer on the horizon with Dystopia, it is here.  The battle is one insanity and madness.  Some of the Dystopian masses seem to have no thought and fight blindly with the rage of hate.  Others seem to move as one and it is obvious that their tactics are very well thought out.  Yet others have no faces and often go unnoticed until they are upon their enemies.  The Aranta army is able to hold its own, until their equipment seems to stop responding.  Guns, armor, ships, and tanks all shut down.  This gives the horde of Dystopia the edge they need to push into the city.

As waves of clones overrun the cities.  But the table start to turn as the council members and their personal armies take to the streets.  The 5 members Doc, Khaalid, Tommy, Barron and Crutch, along with their personal armies make very quick work of the groups they come across in the cities.

Doc leads his charge with waves of pirates from times of old and times yet to be seen; at several points reports of Black Bart are sighted helping Doc on the battlefield.  Doc also does not have as much of an issue from his Dystopian tech.  The noble Xer0 takes up arms in the fight along side his lords lord, bringing odd technology and psychic edges to the battle.

Khaalid is leading a group of Fae that are accompanied by rats.  The rats range between one to four feet tall, all of them have the letter P followed by a number shaved into the fur on either side of them.  The rats utilize pack tactics.  Khaalid’s guards, two eastern yojimbo, never leave his side and nor fight the individual he is engaged with.  The two samurai keep him safe from assailants attacking from the flanks.

Tommy unleashes some of the most terrifying undead armies that has been seen since the War of the Dead.  Some of the abominations that are seen in his army seem to blur the lines of Oblivion, necromancy, and Abyssal creatures.  Tommy also takes stockpiles of the dead to continue to fuel his horde.

Baron Baron Baron is a force to be dealt with on field of battle.  He takes on several waves of mindless creatures alone.  Backing up the Baron are strange animals that are a mix of several different large animals.  Not one of them looks the same.  They are all strange in their own terrifying way.  His only forces that look the same are waves of millions of bees that follow him into battle.

Crutch is never seen for too long on the battlefield, and when he is there are anywhere from 5-15 of him appear.  He leads waves of vampires and blood banes that are are all armed with lowtech crude tools of war.  Chainsaws that are made for impaling while fighting, flamethrowers that can take out several numbers at once with a narrow the flame for an individual that seem to be extremely harty.

The leader of the council Urchin is not on the battlefield of an of the cities.  He is found in the industrial section of Detroit.  Where he watches from is abnormally quiet for a domain at war.  Urchin has a fog that kicks up and follows him.  After searching several mills he comes across a one that has about 250 individuals in it.  Urchin walks in without masking himself and without saying a word.  The fog gives way to a thunderstorm.  In the moments it takes for the thunderstorm to build all of the individual flee but one.  The one that remains looks like Urchin in every way.

The day is short and yet every moment of this day will live on in the minds of those who experienced it  as well as the imaginations of tails that are told of it.  At the end of the day the council survives and Aranta yet stands.  The sun sets and the day ends as do does the war.  Even after the war is won and safety returns, the feeling of being watched permeates the domain.  The cold chill of oblivion is not far and there is the sense that something is terribly wrong.  Late in the night or early in the morning, it depends upon who is telling the tale and none know for certain, a report comes in of bodies falling into the ground, vanishing.  As each lord reads over their report the council chambers it becomes silent and cold.  All light fades and becomes dim.  As they each survey the room a shadowy figure appears before them.  Without words they all know it is Nul.  He utters a single phrase in a whisper, “Thank you for holding my books.”  Then he is gone and his true purpose revealed.  To what ends the tomes will play, none knows.  But the council knows the battle was just a game.