My child,
you know of the bloody struggle our ancestors fought on this very soil. You know of the horror of the Scorching that followed. We need not speak of it anymore, they are long dead and will be avenged one day - I am sure of it.
Just as the stars illuminate the sky in even in the darkest of nights, so has this story also a small pinprick of light. Let me tell you the story of the Doomed Feast and how our armies managed to defeat an enemy so much larger than their own.
you know of the bloody struggle our ancestors fought on this very soil. You know of the horror of the Scorching that followed. We need not speak of it anymore, they are long dead and will be avenged one day - I am sure of it.
Just as the stars illuminate the sky in even in the darkest of nights, so has this story also a small pinprick of light. Let me tell you the story of the Doomed Feast and how our armies managed to defeat an enemy so much larger than their own.
It was during the last year of the war. Our armies were fractured, crippled and almost as good as dead. The only thing left was hope, it felt like the gods had abandoned us. But then, one had mercy and sent a messenger to the Last General. The messenger spoke of a great atrocity in the making, one they would not be able to stop, but maybe they had enough time left to slow it down.
So the General chose to be smart, not strong, they were outnumbered one to ten. The leaders of the opposing army were invited for a feast under the pretence of a negotiation. You might now think that this is where they were poisoned, but the Last General had a grander plan. Killing the officers would hurt the enemy army, but the retribution would be swift and cruel. A few lives for the remainder of the army was not worth it. Instead, a feast was prepared, a feast full of the finest foods and meals they could muster. Enchanted so that all that ate it would gain immense physical prowess. The Last General presented it as if it was the regular rations of the army, explaining away the desperation of loyal soldiers protecting their home as mere magic. The enemy saw this and grew greedy, for they had not eaten well during the last years of the occupation.
The Last General knew that the army would not survive the encounter and had prepared for this exact time, having the mages enchant the remaining provisions with dark curses, necromantic energies and vile magic they brought from the lands of their ancestors.
After our army was beaten and every last soldier either maimed or executed, the enemy set out to loot the encampments, greedy to get their hands on the food that had enabled them to fight so vigorously, eager to enhance their dwindling numbers with anything they could get their hands on. This, they thought, would make their task so much easier, they would be able to devastate entire regions much faster and return home earlier than they had hoped.
They put on a feast of their own. Laughing and drinking and feasting among the corpses of the ones they had slain. As the dawn broke they saw that they were doomed. Their flesh had become foul, their skin hardened, became bark, their fingers and toes began growing, firmly rooting them in the earth. As they screamed in anguish, insects and vermin crawled from their mouths. When they tried to flee, their bodies stayed grown into the land itself and their very souls were ripped from them and consumed by the magic of the continent.
Their bodies will forever remain at the place of battle, the corpses of the fallen patriots nourishing the roots of vengeance.
BUT remnants of that feast remain, the scavengers found parts of it when they came across the site. Not knowing what had happened, they collected and sold and bartered and gave away. It is said, that to this day still the last bits of this doomed feast can be found all over the continent. The magic having withered away significantly, but still, any patriot tasting it will find themselves invigorated, while the occupiers will feel the consequences of their decisions and be punished accordingly.
So the General chose to be smart, not strong, they were outnumbered one to ten. The leaders of the opposing army were invited for a feast under the pretence of a negotiation. You might now think that this is where they were poisoned, but the Last General had a grander plan. Killing the officers would hurt the enemy army, but the retribution would be swift and cruel. A few lives for the remainder of the army was not worth it. Instead, a feast was prepared, a feast full of the finest foods and meals they could muster. Enchanted so that all that ate it would gain immense physical prowess. The Last General presented it as if it was the regular rations of the army, explaining away the desperation of loyal soldiers protecting their home as mere magic. The enemy saw this and grew greedy, for they had not eaten well during the last years of the occupation.
The Last General knew that the army would not survive the encounter and had prepared for this exact time, having the mages enchant the remaining provisions with dark curses, necromantic energies and vile magic they brought from the lands of their ancestors.
After our army was beaten and every last soldier either maimed or executed, the enemy set out to loot the encampments, greedy to get their hands on the food that had enabled them to fight so vigorously, eager to enhance their dwindling numbers with anything they could get their hands on. This, they thought, would make their task so much easier, they would be able to devastate entire regions much faster and return home earlier than they had hoped.
They put on a feast of their own. Laughing and drinking and feasting among the corpses of the ones they had slain. As the dawn broke they saw that they were doomed. Their flesh had become foul, their skin hardened, became bark, their fingers and toes began growing, firmly rooting them in the earth. As they screamed in anguish, insects and vermin crawled from their mouths. When they tried to flee, their bodies stayed grown into the land itself and their very souls were ripped from them and consumed by the magic of the continent.
Their bodies will forever remain at the place of battle, the corpses of the fallen patriots nourishing the roots of vengeance.
BUT remnants of that feast remain, the scavengers found parts of it when they came across the site. Not knowing what had happened, they collected and sold and bartered and gave away. It is said, that to this day still the last bits of this doomed feast can be found all over the continent. The magic having withered away significantly, but still, any patriot tasting it will find themselves invigorated, while the occupiers will feel the consequences of their decisions and be punished accordingly.
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