The Journals of Sparrowhawk
The Storm Lords Crown
By night and by their thousands. The rancid belly of Discordant emptied and spilled over the great mountain passes. Hundreds must have perished on making that journey but you would not know it. For they jabbered and crowed, screeched and screamed their was cries as they assailed the outer sentinels in their watchtowers of stone. The long climb of our foe had been easily noted by the watchers. The obscuring clouds and grand illusions meant to provide the demons with cover and surprise were of no use. For the watchers had spent millennia in contemplation of the mountains; understanding the natural flow of cloud and snow, the formations of the rocks and shadows. They were not about to be fooled so easily. Even if our enemy could delude our eyes our foe forgot to hide the stench that preceded them up the mountainside as obvious as a herald before a lord.
And through great falls of rock and snow and conjured lightning storms they strode and fell. Hundreds more would fall in sight of the base of the watchtowers. But a malevolence born of countless generations in exile and living off the hate of a disembodied God had fuelled their climb. Their ambivalence for the care of each other matched only by contempt for the defenders of humankind meant they cared not at all for their fallen, and on they marched. And so it was that the battle long in the foretelling by the Stormlords had finally come to the mountain pass. And the stone crafted by mortal hands under the guidance of the Gods that had stood against the elements for generations, fell to the abhorrent creations crafted by demons. But there was a terrible price to pay. For all their lives the sentinels had played as children and trained as warriors on these slopes and their footing and blades were strong and true. And only the mightiest patrolled the Edge. Nor were the demons allowed to flee the fight on their own terms, we were ready enough for that. No, this would be an attritional war where the slain, demon and giant alike, would pay with their lives. But whenever our foe faltered they were pressed harder by those behind, larger and larger demons still. And at the back of all stood Demogorgon pushing on the Balor to push on the Hezrou, and so on and so on through the countless hordes.
……ends the great testament, a covenant between Storm Lords and Jotund Giants, Boralis and the Gods. They once strode amongst us in our great halls. Now we go to them and feast in theirs. And so I bequeath to you, Tor, last of the chosen, the Storm Lords Crown. All I ask is you tell of this tale of our fall to those who would hear of our passing. Let not our unfaltering loyalty and eternal gratitude to the gods be forgotten. Tell them if they ask of our regret, that we had none. The gift of reason the gods gave us has been repaid in blood. But to have known thought and wisdom, compassion and loyalty left us with the sweeter of the deal – though tainted these last days with the greatest of sadness and overwhelming loss. To this world I say farewell. It is time to join my brothers and sisters.
May the light of the gods forever shine through the darkness of the age to come. Through their sacrifice for us and ours for them.
My last thoughts are for your future. Know this: that which will seen be lost can be remade anew though the sacrifice must……..