Dirge of the Phoenix

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Brother Dimetrius
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Dirge of the Phoenix

#1 Post by Brother Dimetrius »

Hi all.

I've been working on army fluff for the last few years, in one form or another. The End Times books have rekindled my interest, and I thought I might share the bits I do commit to (digital) paper here so you might give me your feedback and thoughts.

Enjoy!
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Brother Dimetrius
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#2 Post by Brother Dimetrius »

The Phoenix Gate, northern Annuli mountains.
Lanrik stood alone that day.
The news of Tyrion’s grand entrance at the Council of Princes had reached him not long ago. How the princes had hailed him as Herald of Assuryan, and how Imrik angrily returned to Caledor after the affront of having his command questioned. As far as he knew, Caledor did not stand with the rest of Ulthuan any longer. Where would that leave him?
He had never liked the vagrant princeling. Aenarion reborn indeed. Nevertheless, he did have his doubts whether Imrik’s rash decision had been wise.
Granted, it had been Caledor’s valiant efforts that had kept Ulthuan together while it was being burnt by daemonic flame, and while the Phoenix King had succumbed to despair, madness, or worse. And he could hardly fault his liege lord for suffering offence at the brazen arrogance of one who had been, rather than doing his duty for Ulthuan like the rest of them, pursuing his own wild instincts.
But Ulthuan would need Caledor. And, if he were being completely honest, Caledor needed Ulthuan.
Both of them be damned then…

The sudden sound of footsteps snapped him back into focus. There would be questions, now that the entire fortress would have heard the news he had himself just gotten a few short hours ago. Or worse, a reckoning.
One step at a time then…

A soft voice sounded over the northern battlements were he had been lost in his thoughts. “Will you be taking your leave then Prince Lanrik?”
Lanrik tensed. “I see no reason for any departures. Unless you would seek to enlighten me, Verithian.”
“But you have heard, I trust?”. The voice did not betray anything but polite enquiry.
“Off course.”. Lanrik turned around and eyed his companion warily. “As you might have noticed, I am not given to these games of wit, least of all now. Imrik made his choice, and so have I.”
“So it seems. I wonder though, how will the Council of Princes respond when they hear that the Phoenix Gate remains under the command of one who, while surely possessing an unquestionable sense of duty, might flock to proud Imrik’s banners should the need arise?”.
Lanrik chuckled. “No doubt their new master will find a way to remove me then, should I cause such offence.”
Let it come to violence then. Let him cast me from the walls right here and now. I care not. The world stopped making any sense long ago…

Verithian continued to stare at Lanrik. The mage had never warmed to the Caledorian commander of the Gate, however he was far too much of a pragmatist to let that cloud his judgement at a time like this. While the lands around them had succumbed to the daemonic onslaught, the Phoenix Gate had held through multiple sieges. Whatever the broader political considerations, the forces manning the fortress probably represented to most important assets the High Elves had left in northern Ulthuan by now. Lanrik could be removed, for prudence sake. But how this would impact the rest of the garrison could not easily be foreseen. Events were moving very swiftly. Far too swiftly.
“Be at peace Lanrik.” the mage finally said, with a grimace that could have been mistaken for a smile in the harsh winter light. “No one can hold you responsible for the actions of your kinsmen, and if you say you have made your choice I will not be the one to doubt you.”

For the briefest moment, a glimmer of surprise moved over the Caledorian’s face. “So say you, Verithian, but what of the others?”

The mage nodded. “There will be questions. Doubts. Accusations, perhaps. But now is not the time for politicking. I will speak our brothers and let them know that you, regardless of what comes next, will be our commander.”

The Caledorian broke into a humourless smile. “Let’s do that together shall we? I would hate to let you suffer the burden of speaking alone.”
Might as well. The die has been cast, for the both of us. For us all.
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vespacian1
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#3 Post by vespacian1 »

Love the concept, the Caledor splitting off plot definitely opens up some cool background opportunities.
I'm planning on working that element into some of my upcoming stories as well.

Keep them coming!
Loremaster Avarael
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#4 Post by Loremaster Avarael »

Very cool premise for a story with conflicts possible within and without of Asur culture. Thanks for posting, I'll be following for more.
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Brother Dimetrius
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#5 Post by Brother Dimetrius »

Aenuria sat in one of the fortress’ many armouries, as she had been doing more often of late. Her armour stood arrayed before her, well cared for despite the damage it has suffered in the last few months. She sat cross-legged in front of it, cradling her blade. It sang to her, after having been sharpened multiple times already that day. She would most likely sharpen it again before the day was done.

Not that it will impress the daemon spawn when they come again. Her eyes followed the gilded dragon motives over the darkened Caledorian plate in front of her. But anything is better than spend any more time with those mewling fools who are content to stay inside and wait till the Dark Gods come claim them.

Remaining in the fortress had been hard for her. When Lanrik had been called to take command of Phoenix Gate by Finunbar’s court, she had not hesitated to offer her blade to him. The duty that had been bestowed on her cousin had filled her with pride, and she had been glad to ride with him alongside other distant kin toward the north. The thought of scourging Nagarythe and the Shadowlands of Druchii filth had been invigorating. While Caledor’s daughters had never been the ones to lounge in their fathers’ halls, Aenuria had always been particularly restless. Her family had indulged her so far, mostly, and Lanrik had almost certainly conspired with her father in leading her here. She smiled. How trivial such things seemed now.

She caressed the blade she had been nursing in her lap. Yes, it could do with more sharpening. I shall be needing it again soon enough.

She stood up, and made her way towards one of the whetstone kept within the armoury. One of the young attendants moved towards her.
“Will you requiring anything, Drakemistress?”
“Thank you lad. I will see to it myself. This blade could do with some more sharpening, don’t you think?”
“As you say, Drakemistress.”
We can all do with more sharpening. Only the sharpest blades will survive what is to come.
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Brother Dimetrius
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#6 Post by Brother Dimetrius »

The officers and dignitaries of the Phoenix Gate had already assembled in the Emerald Hall. The vast, cavernous space at the very heart of the fortress had been carved out of the Annuli Mountains when the Gate had first been built many years ago. Throughout the cycle of destruction and rebuilding that seemed to define the Gate’s place in history, it had remained mostly unchanged. The stern granite walls were decorated with a multitude of banners and sigils representing the Elven forces that had been stationed here over the millennia. Scattered in between, the thousands of small emerald fragments that gave the hall its name glittered softly in the golden light of dozens of delicate lamps. Finely woven carpets of rich red led to a half-crescent dais at the end of the hall where, in front of a gargantuan crimson banner adorned with the golden Phoenix reborn, the masters of the Gate had been arguing.

A powerfully built, yet pallid elf in dark leather garb was bellowing the same words he had been repeating for the better part of the last hour.
“He has no right to retain his command! He and his treacherous ilk should be removed from this fortress without hesitation, and should they foolishly think themselves above our judgement we should teach them the humility have long since lacked!”.
A fair noble, clad in a heavy crimson cloak and splendidly gilded armour lay his hand on the raging elf’s shoulder.
“Careful now Nauron, you speak of kinstrife. That path will lead us even further from the stability we desperately need right now.”
“Do not lecture me on kinstrife. Any semblance of balance in this world abandoned us months ago brother. You would pet a rabid dog when all else has succumbed to madness?”
“Rabid dog or not, that remains to be seen. And should madness reign, as you say, is there no wisdom letting madness wear itself out against its like?”
A husky female voice cut in. “Meliath is right Nauron. Lanrik has yet to declare openly for Imrik, and until we hear otherwise we should assume that he still serves the Phoenix Throne, just as we do.”
“Your optimism would be endearing, Eryana, would it not be on the wrong side of preposterous at a time like this.”
The Avelorian knew better than to rise to the Nagarythe’s taunts, and calmly continued. “My optimism, as you call it, is nothing more than a simple statement of the facts. I have yet to see Caledorian steel being drawn in this room, nor have we been asked to renounce our oaths.”

Meliath turned towards the white haired giant of an elf that had been silent so far. “Where is our illustrious commander anyway? Shouldn’t his bodyguard be keeping a close watch on him, especially considering the, erm, circumstances?
The hulking Chracian leaned on his massive axe without showing any obvious offence to the noble’s rebuke. “The commander is notoriously uncooperative where our duties are concerned, as you well know and have witnessed yourself on many occasions. I trust he will be here shortly. It is not his habit to hide away when there are battles to be fought.”
Nauron grimaced. “You too consider this a battle then?”.
The white haired giant chuckled. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? Isn’t that question at the heart of our merry gathering?”.
Eryana glared at the White Lion. “As much as you seem to take pleasure in your questionable wit, Duralion, I would kindly ask you to entertain yourself in other ways, at another time.”
“Wit be damned! What of the Caledorian?!”, Nauron seethed. “Will no one here acknowledge the folly of leaving him to his own devices?”
“You speak of folly? Folly would be rashness in when we only…”
“…only what? Do you really…”
“…we are not…”
“… and what of you then? Will you …”
“… we cannot simply…”

“MY LORDS AND LADIES!”.
At the other end of the hall, Lanrik stood, with Verithian a few paces behind.
He smiled a mirthless smile as the bickering company turned to face him.

“So good of you all to come. I believe there is work to be done.”
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Ferny
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#7 Post by Ferny »

This is great stuff. I don't normally read the story telling pages but you've got a real talent - looking forward to seeing the next instalments!
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davidto
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#8 Post by davidto »

I'm planning on working that element into some of my upcoming stories as well. [-o<
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Brother Dimetrius
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Re: Dirge of the Phoenix

#9 Post by Brother Dimetrius »

Hm, the End Times books coming out so quickly kind of killed my mojo on this one.

One the plus side, Warhammer will not move anymore ( :cry: ), so all the time to write some more I guess...
Twitter : @BDimetrius
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