[Cursed]

"A sum of one hundred thousand coin do serve as our minimum requisite for incursion into foreign lands."

"One hundred thousand?

                                          Doable."

From the western expanse of Meranthe where the undaunted dunes withstood the harshest of weathers, did a clamorous symphony of hooves and steeds echo out traversing the land. An army emerged leaving in their wake a swirling arc of sand, bearing a banner adorned with the colors of ebony and gold, depicting a sigil of a dragon embroidered on it. The true purpose behind such a march obscure, for no apparent hostilities laid between them and their targets leading up to this seige.

What rode on Skarnfel was no disciplined army with orderly formations, but rather an assemblage of untamed warriors bristling with spears and bows. And each night, before the fateful day of battle volleys of blazing arrows were unleashed just beyond Skarnfel's periphery, igniting an inferno that veiled the landscape and eroded the defenders' morale with each shot. Surprisingly, who lead this formidable force was not the renowned Elvira Kerekes but rather a boy believed to be the chosen Emissary of the Dunedrake, guiding his brethren with purpose.

Yet whispers carried on the winds hinted at their reasons. It was suggested that their presence within those grounds was not to raze Skarnfel or unleash ruin upon its fortifications and watchtowers, but rather to seize a single individual, a Faeborne for reasons only known to them and their employers.  Formal announcements were notably absent, yet both Khan and Emissary were occasionally spotted weaving through the ranks reinforcing their people.

TARGET: Skarnfel.
OBJECTIVE: Seizing Vienna.
DATE: TBD.

[GSM]

The seizure of one would befit a price of many.
The legion of darkness was initially unaware of the assault, but the response was that of liquid darkness, and a horrifically fast one; darkness crawled against their assailants, ripping apart lesser men and shielding the flames with emissaries of the End of All. Skeletal warriors of both ages long past and freshly-arisen dead started to fill the battlefield, unfettered by Time's clutches. Demons and undead worked in seamless harmony, the lessers being pillaged and slain for good, only to reform moments later. Many sons of man were kidnapped, many more slain upon the entering of Skarnfel's territory.

The cacophony of corvids and vultures could be heard for miles, the bodies of those felled now staining the earth forevermore, adding more and more to the inherently negative energy of the Shadowlands, fueling the flame that was the ever-growing force of change and entropy.

The tactics of the Golden Horde were not unknown to those in the fel legion.

Thus, little would be given in terms of morale. For these legions knew not fear, and they would not relent. Not under the command of the new Diarchy of Skarnfel.
Not under Xarxes, Lord of Time. Not under Na'Ria, Demon of Knowledge.

A thousand voices whispered together in perfect harmony, carried through the air with the great Grey and rattling into the minds of their opponents with a terrible drone.

Na'Ria had some... choice words. The Owldrake's statement would come first, through the tongues of many stolen voices.

"You would challenge Skarnfel for a single soul?

You would charge so recklessly into battle, daring to abandon your lives and your legacies, for... this?

We have aspects to pursue, we have changes to ascertain.

You would slake your blood with ours, to point your bows and spears at us, those of you who once marched alongside us?

Come, my demonic kindred.

We must put these pretenders in their place."

Another voice would carry itself through Time, a statement that seemed to have already been said; the stench of Death lingered within the air.

Xarxes made his own stance clear, one and the same with the Archon's.

"Did they say a mere hundred thousand? Tell the Undead to crawl out of their coffins, if these broke people think that they're going to be making a fuss about such a small amount of coins we're going to shatter them into a thousand tiny pieces. They think they can come where the Pantheon has forsaken?

It's about the proper moment we dusted off some of our assets and set them loose. Let's show them what wealth and power truly look like."

Would the price of a single soul be enough to ascertain the safety of those who marched upon Skarnfel?
Would it be enough to protect and nurture many lives?
Just what was the true price of the one they aimed to seize?

...

Meranthe was due to find out, and very soon.

[Sentaka]

To think one decided to come for her again. History had a tendency to repeat itself, but the faeborn who remain silent decided to send a message once words got to her ears. Her trademark black and purple occultic butterflies cover the sky forming her message not just for the client, but for everyone to see. 

"You claim you would hunt me Nightowl, and yet you were so afraid that you went to the Golden Horde for help. Did you lose your nerve to the point you couldn't challenge me to an open duel, or is insulting a group of mercenaries with a small payment to get them to do your dirty work your only strength? No matter since there won't be end to my trouble, I guess I'll just have to murder your friends and entire family so you can finally fuck off."

The faeborn made her statement known. While the Golden Horde aimed to capture her the faeborn decided that blood needed to be shed. A declaration that unless she was killed in the raid the Golden Horde's client and their client's friends will become the ones hunted.

[Vastra]

DATE: Sunday 30th, 6pm EST