The Assassination

In the year 330, Tarvala was assassinated in his bed. Immediately a large congregation formed in the streets of Arlessa. A planned uprising which took the palace completely by surprise. The rebellion seized control of the capital and destroyed as much as they could, word quickly spread of the Emperor's demise and the Empire began to crumble. To the east, Kingdoms which were run by royal families who swore loyalty to Tarvala were revoking their oath, swearing never again to be ruled by someone unfit to be crowned. The assassination was completed by 3 Fey Half-bloods, using Fey weapons. Below is the story of the aftermath.

## Anarchy is Arlessa

The Imperials knew they were coming. Even they were not that stupid, Cuthalion conceded, even with their blind worship of Tarvala, their so-called emperor. Some even called him a demi-god; the Son of Markoth himself. Folly! The wretch of an emperor died, just like any other. The look of shock on Tarvala's face when Cuthalion's and Torren's knife pierced his chest, and Ki's blade sliced through his neck was a memory Cuthalion would treasure for the rest of his life. No one had seen fey-made weapons in the thirty years of Tarvala's rule, with the fey all returned to their ancestral lands due to Tarvala's treaty.

For their ancestor’s deeds, the Imperials had named all Kazmir outcasts in the lands of the Empire. Cuthalion snorted. As if kazmir like him were not already outcast from the glorious lands of their fey parents. Cuthalion's mother had to return as well but not before killing his scum of a father for his violation in supporting the Empire. She'd left Cuthalion in the care of another half-blood she trusted. As the fog lifted, Cuthalion took note of the Imperials approaching the palace steps. They were prepared, but not nearly well enough. They had not yet grasped how many rebels there were until that point. Not Cuthalion's doing, for sure; some human king who'd had his kingdom annexed by the empire had rallied his men in secret over the years. While they accepted Cuthalion, Ki and Torren for their role in the assassination of the emperor, it was clear who was in charge of the army. The rebels planned to wrest Arlessa from Imperial command; the capital of the empire, it was a symbol of hope for those still believing the emperor's heir still lived. It was a bold move; both politically and symbolically. Arlessa lacked walls and defenses; such things would not have stood against the magic of the fey, and while Tarvala was emperor, there was peace and no need of walls. Tarvala's banner, sceptre and crown, the symbols of his reign, were being moved to a city with more fortifications to defend them as the city began to lock down it's citizens.

"Just a few more years of fighting," Torren was saying to Ki. "I reckon another five or ten years more of conflict, and then the Church of Tarvala will be wiped out. And you can quote me on that." Ki did not appear to share Torren's optimism. He nervously checked his sword for nicks and scratches, knowing full well the elf-blade would have none.

The horn of Camdoria rang, and an order was given for the rebels to begin their attack on the Imperial forces. Cuthalion nocked an arrow and sent it flying, catching a soldier in the neck as he ran past. He kept firing, Torren beside him loosing arrow after arrow. Ki, with a bladed staff, stood nearby to keep his friends covered from would-be flankers.

Cuthalion then saw something that made his blood run cold. Judging by the sneer on Ki's face, he'd seen it too: an elf, like them, but with the tips of his ears burned and scarred, proudly fighting for the Imperial. Ki snarled. "Traitorous wretch!" Cuthalion agreed and shot the abomination. How many more, he wondered, how many more fools like that were there wanting to fit in with their human halves rather than accept the glorious gifts their fey blood gave them? One of the rebels returned, bloody but smiling. He had the banner. Cuthalion didn't care, blinded by anger. The banner was symbolic and important, yes; but the crown, sceptre and jewels of the emperor could be melted down, sold and fund the entire rebellion. He watched with dismay as, despite the rebels' best efforts, the chest which contained the gems was carried further and further away. They did not have enough numbers to chase the chest and fight the crazed Imperialists at the same time.

The Rebel retreat was sounded, but too late. The Imperialist forces had closed in quickly; too quickly. Ki intercepted a soldier rushing towards Cuthalion, his sword piercing the enemy's side easily. Cuthalion shot another in the knee, crippling him for Ki to finish off. He reached for another arrow but found he had none, so he sheathed his bow and drew his shortsword and a couple of throwing daggers. Beside him, Torren had already drawn his swords and was fighting a desperate battle against two foes at once. Ki's sword darted left and right. The retreat signal was given again, and the three kazmir took advantage of a quick break in the enemy's momentum to run towards the bulk of the rebel forces.

A few arrows whizzed past, but none of them hit. They reached the rebel lines and one of the men deflected an arrow away from Cuthalion with his shield. The three kazmir made it safely behind the rebel lines. Cuthalion quickly restocked his arrows from the supply pile, but he missed his elf-metal tipped arrows. Torren reached for an arrow, then paused. "Did you feel that?" Ki and Cuthalion exchanged glances. "Feel what?" they asked in unison.

"That," Torren said. Cuthalion could feel a tingle in his body. Faint, but it was there. It pulsed uncomfortably, seeming to get stronger as the seconds passed.

Ki looked grim. "What is that?"

"High magic," Torren said. "Very powerful high magic." Of the three kazmir, only Torren had some skill with High Magic, but like all those of fey blood, they could sense the power of fey magics. The tingling intensified as whatever it was causing it drew closer.

A bout of flame issuing out from the sky caught the attention of almost everyone on the streets. There was a screech and another bout of flame as the large, winged creature swooped down towards the street. Taaldarax! Or in the tongue of men, dragon. A construct of the most powerful elven high magics, the dragon flew gracefully and with ease, roaring as it charged. Cuthalion basked in the waves of magic it exuded while men cringed and shouted all around him. It was a sign of hope; with it they could crush the Imperialist army once and for all!

Then the dragon spouted flame into the rebel army, its claws grasping and scratching at the soldiers. The Imperials cheered, and a volley of arrows was loosed into the rebel lines. Torren had begun to cast a spell to fling at the taaldarax, but an arrow pierced through him. Cuthalion fired an arrow, but it bounced off the dragon's skin with a shimmer of magic. He wished again for his elven arrows; they could have probably injured the construct.

The Imperials were advancing on the scattered rebel line, aiming to finish them off when the dragon banked towards them and continued its slaughter. Cuthalion realised that it had left kazmir alone; it must have been summoned to only kill those not of elven blood. A group of rebel mages blasted the creature with volleys fireballs. It roared as it crashed towards the ground, smoke rising off its body. The shock of taking down a dragon did not last long; the two forces locked in battle once again. Cuthalion fired arrow after arrow, Ki fending off Imperials that got too close.

Cuthalion heard chanting and saw an Imperialist priestess intoning a prayer, magic flaring in her hands. She flung out her spell at Cuthalion and Ki instinctively moved to deflect it. The fireball blasted over Ki while Cuthalion roared with anger. He fired an arrow into the priest and looked for another target just as he saw the dragon's inflicted wounds beginning to heal again. With a roar, the taaldarax burst from the ground again, scattering Imperials and rebels alike. It roared and slaughtered a few more soldiers, but Cuthalion could already sense, if not fully hear, the magical music drawing it back towards the elven lands. As it vanished, Cuthalion realised he was limping;

Ki's sword had been blasted out of his hands from the fireball and was lodged in Cuthalion's calf. The rebels were routing; the shock of the dragon attack and the fanaticism of the Imperials had taken their toll. Cuthalion tried to hobble after them, but their lines were broken and scattered. He saw another elf approach him and hoped for help. Then he saw the burned and scarred ear tips and the imperial colours and his hope died. "Traitor," he spat as he raised his bow, realising only too late the arrow he had nocked was snapped from the blast. The elf said nothing, thrusting forwards with his sword, and Cuthalion knew no more.

## The Aftermath

As the Empire struggled to maintain its lands, many of those in charge of settlements and castles on the outer lands were put to the stake. Political avenues for many of the recently liberated regions dried up as the Empire prepared to strike back.

Mustering its forces, the Empire began the task of reclaiming it’s land in the name of Tarvala and in retribution of his death.

The High Priest of the Church elected a Steward from their ranks to take control of the Empire, bestowing the blessing of the church on him and allowing him full control of all Imperial forces. The first point of action?

To strike back…Harder.