Wheel of Time MUD

Following Elysia's comments about more story and less gains...

The winds howled like wailing ghosts as the Waygate in the Spine of the World groaned open, its ancient leaves shuddering under the touch of the Shadow. From its depths spilled a tide of darkness: hulking Trollocs, their twisted forms bristling with hunger; Fades, their eyeless faces grinning death; and behind them, the dreadlords, shrouded in power that made the air hum with malice.

The first step of this conquest was Haddon Mirk, the forsaken swamp where light rarely dared to tread. The Trollocs surged forward like an unholy tide, their roars shaking the trees as they tore through the Mirk’s marshes. Creatures of the forest scattered before them, and those too slow to flee were consumed in a feast of blood and bone. The Fades glided behind, their swords cleaving resistance with lethal grace, while the dreadlords summoned fire and lightning to obliterate anything in their path. By the time the Mirk’s last shadows fell silent, the ground was a charred ruin, soaked with the blood of men and beast alike.

With the Mirk subdued, the Shadow turned its gaze southward, to the shining jewel of Tear. The Trollocs poured over the Plains of Maredo like a living storm, their numbers uncountable. The Lords of Tear, proud and confident behind their tall stone walls, rallied their armies, their banners flying high. But their steel was no match for the Shadow. Fades moved like shadows through their ranks, slaughtering silently in the night, while dreadlords unleashed fire that turned their walls to ash and rubble.

When the Trollocs breached the city gates, chaos reigned. The mighty defenders of Tear fell, their cries drowned beneath the roars of the Shadowspawn. Flames licked the sky as the Stone of Tear itself trembled. Not even the great fortress could withstand the dreadlords’ wrath. It crumbled, the defenders inside crushed beneath the weight of their hubris and stone.

As the dawn broke, its light found no purchase upon Tear. Smoke choked the sky, and the streets ran red with blood. The banners of the Shadow flew high above the shattered city, a testament to the unstoppable flood that began at the Waygate. Tear had fallen, and with it, the hope of resistance.

The Shadow had risen, and all would tremble in its wake.

The myrddraal approaches the Dark One's latest machinations, marketed and distributed by one of his ardent followers in a different portal stone reality, and hisses 'Alexa, tell me a story.'


The city of Tear lay in smoldering ruins, its once-proud banners now ash drifting in the fetid air. From the highest hill overlooking the shattered city, a dreadlord known only as Malreth surveyed the devastation. His dark cloak billowed in the wind as he raised a gauntleted hand, a black orb of pulsating energy floating above his palm. It was a beacon of triumph, a symbol of the Shadow’s inexorable dominance.

“To the south!” Malreth’s voice echoed unnaturally, carrying for miles. “The kingdoms of Illian and Mayene will kneel before us, or their ashes will join Tear’s!”

The Trolloc horde roared in agreement, a sound that echoed like a nightmare through the plains. Behind them, the Fades stood silent, their eyeless faces turned toward their next prey.

The dreadlords conferred in hushed whispers, their plans woven with threads of fire and deceit. One, a woman wreathed in shadow and known only as Selenya, spoke. “Illian’s defenders are proud but scattered. We will shatter them as easily as we did Tear. But Mayene... their Winged Guard may pose a challenge.”

Malreth sneered, his lip curling. “The Winged Guard? Feathers and swords cannot hold against the power of the Shadow.” He raised his hand, and lightning cracked across the blackened sky for emphasis.

The advance was swift. The Trollocs surged like a living tide, their sheer weight enough to trample fields and forests into ruin. Villages along the way were crushed beneath claw and hoof, their defenders overwhelmed in minutes. The dreadlords spread fear as much as fire, their magic sending illusions of death and torment into the minds of those who dared resist.

In Illian, the Council of Nine gathered in desperation. Their leader, Lord Arend Davram, stood defiant. “We must rally our forces! The White Tower will send aid; the Aes Sedai cannot ignore this threat!”

But even as he spoke, his words felt hollow. The Shadow was a force unstoppable, its tendrils stretching farther and farther with each passing day.

On the fields outside Illian, the armies of light and dark met. The battle was a cacophony of chaos: Trollocs tore through Illianer pike lines; Fades danced through the chaos, their black blades drinking lives. The Illianer cavalry charged bravely, their shining armor glinting even beneath the oppressive gloom, but their courage faltered as dreadlords rained fire upon them from the heavens.

Among the dreadlords, Selenya stood triumphant. With a wave of her hand, the very earth split open, swallowing entire regiments of soldiers. She laughed as flames erupted from the chasm, a mocking echo of Illian’s defiance.

As night fell, Illian too fell silent. The Shadow’s banners rose above the city, their black sigils twisting in the unnatural wind.

Yet in the darkness, a spark of hope remained. From the nearby hills, a single figure watched the destruction. She was cloaked in white, her face hidden beneath a hood. In her hand, she held a staff that glowed faintly with a golden light.

“They move swiftly,” the woman murmured, her voice soft yet firm. “But they will not find the south unprepared. The Light endures, even when shadows fall deepest.”

With that, she turned and disappeared into the forest. Somewhere far to the south, the Winged Guard awaited, and with them, the final stand against the rising tide of darkness.

Azareth’s fork paused halfway between his mouth and his plate of breakfast fish as his office door burst open. He glared at the young recruit.

“Tear has fallen!”

“firetruck.” Azareth places his utensil on a napkin. “It wasn’t us. Illian?”

“No, sir. A huge trolloc army has massed and we can’t be sure which way it is headed.”

“Way to bury the lead, kid. Find Lady Naomi. Tell her we’re calling in the crazy cat lady platoon. Have them head north and kill all the rodents and small reptiles they can find.”

“Um, what?”

“I think you mean ‘Um, what, sir?’ Nevermind. If we starve the swamp cats, they get mean. Not mean enough to stop an army but definitely enough to annoy them. Send word to the gates. Anyone heading out of the city northward does so at their own risk until this is over.”

Ooc - I didn’t know I could just rp Tear being destroyed. I woulda done it ages ago.

Edit: oh wait. This isn’t even the rp forums