The EndSong

POV: Calphiti General

History

The Fourth Nomad King of those vile Dwarven Mercenaries had stayed away from the battle so far. Only having engaged in small skirmishes from the outer wings, more a distraction than an actual threat. As if they were toying with us while we fought tooth and nail to hold our ground from the Huronian forces. Seven main columns against out ten, a glorious clash of humanity pitted against each other, each gunshot, the deafening roar from cannon fire. Ah music to my ears, Glory be to Bhal the Great Conqueror, for gracing us with the ambition to take what is ours to own.

Only, that prayer would be far more heartfelt if... I should start from the beginning of the event. As I sit here in this prison cell, I have not much better to do while this General walks about white-faced. Haunted by the scene that plagues my own mind. I haven't slept in days, his song still echoing in my dreams. Sickly and ethereal, like a miasmic tar that clings to ever thought.

On the Seventh day of our second month, having fought to a draw with the States of Huron over The Slash. The Dwarven mercs opened fire on our left flank, unfathomable artillery power. We had no intel they had such capabilities after we took the ports in the Ithry Straite. Regardless, we could have withstood it without much help from the Song of Bhal. It was more shock and awe, meant to make a big show of startling our main front, to their credit it worked.

We watched as the Huronian forces gave way, retreating far into their entrenched positions. We asked ourselves why they would give up such land earned with the blood of their men? We got our answer, as a lone figure stood in no man's land. Strumming a lute of all things, we recognized him instantly from our intelligence gathering. Gjorn Fourth king of Dwarves, had arrived.

While we knew his capabilities, he was an extremely talented mage. Domains of Air and Sound being his signature claim to fame, we weren't ready. His song filled our main front, endless. Deafening to the point where not a single soldier could sleep. He stood in a field of death, corpses strewn about him. The Huronian forces we had gunned down not long ago. As if he were the voices of the damned, he would grant us no peace.

We had started receiving reports of men going missing at all hours of the day. We had readied out Gatling guns and cannons to open fire at the King, I had to have someone explain to me what had happened. One of my Advisors had told me that he was increasing the air pressure around him to deflect all rounds shot at him. There was nothing we could do to gun him down, heavy artillery merely slid away from him as if hitting an enormous dome. Bullets simply evaporated before striking him, an odd ringing in the air, like the scream of a banshee.

We requested additional support from the Fatherland, only to have every messenger appear days later, looking haggard, lost, and mindbroken. After a week of constant bombardment, we gave up, why waste the ammunition and resources if it clearly wasn't working? My men were tired and exhausted, no one in the front line had gotten more than a few hours of sleep the entire week. It was only then did we start finding those loosened stones. Loose earth we dug out to find our missing men, buried alive.

It was then that the Dwarf had shown us what had happened to our men, as his song changed in pitch. The strong scent of Nitrogen thick in the air, sulfur, and Ozone. The ground swallowed up an entire battalion of artillery operators, and with an immense gust of air, the ground solidified. I had watched, I had seen. He was playing with us now, as I watched grasping hands trapped in the earth grow still.

We had ordered a retreat from the front, we could regroup later. We needed to leave, only... the song changed again, Gjorn adding his voice to the song finally. An immense compulsion filled the minds of all but our more powerful Battlemages. "Shadow touched souls, come to me."

I watched as my army turned on itself. The trenches were filled with blood, the ground strewn with my fallen brothers. Hysteria filled the survivors as those grabbed by his song attacked indiscriminately, the horses, the food, the supplies burned, flayed alive. "Grant yourself the peace, be set free."

I ran, abandoning my Advisor as his eyes turned red, flicking toward me with murder evident. I ran and ran and ran until my legs couldn't move anymore. The sounds of gunshots, the roar of cannon fire inside my lines. "You cannot change who you are, you are what they have made."

I felt that compulsion myself then, that tar clinging to every thought. I couldn't hear anything, the world faded around me. Only angry after images flicked across my eyes, I felt myself scream, and tear my own vocal chords apart. I heard nothing. Felt nothing. It was sometime later when I heard the last verse of his song, "Forgive not, remember no, you are nothing but a shade."

I came to, surrounded by Huronian forces, horror on their face. The smell of blood and bile, decay, and smoke thick in the air. They were surprisingly gentle with me, asking if I was alright. They clearly didn't anticipate what the King had done, or what he was capable of. They offered me a drink, only to see my hands covered in blood that wasn't my own. Gashes on my body that had been cauterized closed, I drank deep from the bottle they handed me.

I still can't get it out of my mind. Please make this stop, Gjorn, I beg you. Please... I cannot hear the voices of my wife and son, I cannot hear anything but your song. Please.

Aftermath

The battle at the Slash had a few far-reaching outcomes that would ultimately end in the Federation's favor but at a detriment to how the world viewed the Dwarven People. The turning point in the war was when the Romachian Caliphate would turn far more aggressive toward the Huronian front throwing nearly every resource they had to aid in this.

This would penultimately end in the Battle of Huron where The Sage of Huron: Emily Von Eule would rout the Calphiti forces, denying them the ability to take the Capitol City in the Eastern Theatre. Politically this would result in the Romacian forces being forced to retreat back to their Capitol: the Song of Bhal, only to find it in a full insurrection. Quickly losing the war to the Federation, and losing all ability to control the state.

The main point that has fascinated many a Historian, such as myself is this. Gjorn, Fourth King of the Nomadic Wandering States had earned a new title. The EndSong, or as the Calphiti call him, Tabl Almawt. While not a direct comparison, it roughly means End Song or Doom Drum. The rest of the world had heard of this and initially hailed Gjorn as a hero until the Huronian Military released what they had seen.

Where the hero is the villain, what matters more? The outcome, no matter the means to do so? Maybe a lighter touch, but maybe the force was needed. Regardless, Gjorn had shown the world what could be done with magic, and what the consequences of it were as well.

In a single moment, the world had seen this King as a ruler to rule all justly and fairly, as a Monarch to be feared and mistrusted. To turn an entire Army in on itself with just your words, to commit a true atrocity. The event left a bitter and discordant taste in the mouths of the Federation. This would result in Gjorn not being allowed to speak or play any music in any city controlled by the Federation for years, his legacy trailing him like a crawling specter.

The Actual Song

"Shadow touched souls, come to me. Hear me and know that the fate of fates is broken. That the Queen and I lement at your suffering. Grant yourself the peace, be set free."

"You cannot change who you are, you are what they have made. The Shadows are vile thing, to take what was precious And to warp what what taken from us. Forgive not, remember no, you are nothing but a shade."

"You are here, your mind is clear. I gave voice to their command, you must resist or fall, to repeat history For there is nor more heard in the fear."