24.6 The War of the 840s.

The Land took an irrevocable turn 843 years after the Divine War, germinating the seeds of conflict that would persist evermore. Appearing in the heavens just at this time were the God of Light and Goddess of Night. Alas, man was stuck between them. With an almighty crash, the two deities set themselves to bloody war -- man's blood, to be exact. It was a time of immense passion and constraint, of hopes, dreams and foul deeds. Whether on one side or the other, the devotion fanned the embers in the heart of that fragile, noble creature called Man.

In the blaze of the sky as Lycoris and Nox ripped at each other in divine contest, their factions and followers brought together their resources with great speed. So eager were they in finding the raw materials they desired that they stripped the villages, towns, forests and mountains of every man, woman, child, ore, oak and morsel of food. Famine ensued, ravaging the cities with disease as but the only recourse were alchemical potions of nourishment. The Great Plague of the 840s took the lives of many, but rising up in their places, with halberd and dragon, these sickly throngings of men and valiant women still prepared.

The Barony of Mercinae, guided by the inimitable Sorcha, Guildmistress of the Knights Guild, took the risky proposal to batter Thakria in a pre-emptive strike against the darkness. It was indeed all too risky, but the justice on their side kept them merry and confident. With legions far out-numbering their enemy, they marched, immediately declaring war on the unsuspecting Thakrians. Bodies of their foe were left in the wake of this massive army, commanded by Lady Sorcha and Sir Croaker of the Knights. Gates smashed, streets painted red with the splattering of Thakrian blood, and the main square held, it seemed to come all too easy.

Thakria had laid its trap and now sprung to action, under the banners of Sir Phoebus of the Cavaliers and Plaman. Mercinae was swiftly whittled down to a paltry number, hardly able to defend themselves against the superior forces of Thakria. Nevertheless, the Mercinaens showed such courage, determination and valour that against the odds the Thakrians fell by the thousands. Overcome by Sorcha's masterful tactics, Phoebus and Plaman only realised their mistake when most of their army lay slain. Few enough were kept to fortify their walls and borders, pushing back Mercinae after a well-needed retreat. Mercinae pulled back, out of mercy, but the carnage of those first days echo through the generations of both cities. None have forgiven or shall ever forgive the decade of 840.