Prologue
It was the tail end of spring. Summer warmth was in the air. A distant promise to end the deluge that had followed blooming season.
There were farmers in the fields. Plowing and tilling from sunrise to sunset. Traders and merchants populated the winding roads, traveling from settlement to settlement in hopes of selling their wares. Fishermen sailed about the coast. They set crab traps and trawled the sea. It was a busy time of year for all.
With so much daily activity, it was only natural that the corrupted ensued. For even the cold months had a wilting effect on a great many of the wretched beasts.
In response, the realm saw heavier numbers of soldiers, knights, Willows, Kniphofia, and Everlasting Blossoms during this time. Where the darkness went, many followed.
A natural trend going almost seventy years strong. Ever since the corrupted were unleashed during the War of Blood. Ever since the Battle of the Fallen Star.
Unfortunately, these black-blooded bastards weren’t the only trend given rise from the war. There were numerous phenomena that occurred during the fallout. One of which was a newfound animosity between Willows and Knipohfias. Hatred born from what Necrosis tried to do to Locke Warden, and for what Kristofferson Warden did to Necrosis in return.
This hatred was no more than anger. Traded jabs and japes. Heckling jokes told over the campfire. Harmless pranks. Petulant jests. But in life, these things have a way of escalating. A snowball rolling down a hill, accumulating speed and mass, until finally…
One night, in a small village that no one quite remembers, there was a Kniphofia wandering the streets, traveling through the mid-evening marketplace.
After so many years, it’s hard to say who this Kniphofia was or what they looked like or even what weapon they may have brandished other than the holy fire bestowed upon them by their sun god. All that can be said for certain was that they were alone when they encountered the Willow.
This next matter has been disputed to death, a thousand times over. Who said what, who said it first, who rebuffed whom? These are the questions the realm is left to ponder.
What is known is the result of this encounter: one Willow became two and two became three then four and five and this continued until a small garrison of moon-blessed warriors crowded the marketplace. And the same is told of the Kniphofia. They entered alone, but when steel was drawn, there were almost two dozen others ready to fight. If not more.
The street battle slowly consumed the public, forcing the residents to take shelter in their homes or nearby alleyways, watching through the blinds as the two clans exchanged killing blows.
By the time the city patrol arrived, it was an utter mess. Blood and viscera painted the walls. Pools of red flooded the gutters. Hacked limbs laid in the streets. Enough corpses to fill a small graveyard.
The governor of the settlement called a meeting between the two clans, using a number of representatives on either side to discuss the damages and repercussions. They’d met in a nearby field, worried the two sides might break out into another brawl at any moment.
This meeting, so they say, was an abysmal attempt at peace.
When negotiations failed, the two opposing clans agreed to meet once more by week’s end. On that same field, at that same time. The governor, and his fellow officials, retreated to their homes and locked the settlement’s gates.
When the Willows returned later that week, they’d amassed an army of 4,782 willing warriors with an additional 2,947 apprentices. At the other end of the field, there were 8,879 Kniphofia standing ready.
The morning was young. A chill breeze swept through, carrying the stench of wildflowers from the surrounding forests. Gleaming rays of sunlight peered over the horizon. Swathes of orange and pink drenched the sky, dabbled by puffy white clouds shaped like ocean torrents.
The two forces were consumed by silence. They stared at each other, unmoving and unwavering. Neither wishing to make the first move, but at the same time, both refusing to back down.
There are two primary accounts of how the fighting began.
One account states that the Kniphofia attacked first, unleashing a fiery tidal wave that scorched the earth and almost three hundred Willows positioned on the front lines.
The other account asserts that it was the Willows who took action, charging on foot and horseback towards the Kniphofia, who then responded by setting the field ablaze.
Regardless, the result remained the same: some three hundred Willows burned black and crispy. The battlefield turned into a sea of smoke and ashes. A thunderous roar from both sides that echoed across the sky, sending shivers down the spines of residents from the villages nearby.
When the sun had finally set, and night ensued, there were but only corpses remaining. The field was littered with limbs and organs. Blood soaked the ground, turning the dirt into mud. There were cries scattered about, as well as pleas for mercy. Willows wept, Kniphofias cried, and the world stayed its natural course.
The sun disappeared against the horizon, the moon peered through the clouds, and by the next morning, all was silent. The survivors, what few remained, fled from the field. Many of the wounded succumbed to rot and infection. Some, who remained mostly unscathed, took their own lives within the weeks that followed.
It was a bloody affair. A tragic time that saw heavy losses on both sides. From the initial stock, 322 Willows survived. There were 106 apprentices that lived to tell the tale, but due to the deaths of their masters, only 42 could resume their training. The rest were forced to find new masters or new vocations.
From the Kniphofia clan, 413 remained. However, 212 would die within the month due to injury or illness resulting from the battle. Without blessed blood, they faced harsher consequences from their injuries.
As per custom, Lady Reapers swept through like a flock of carrion crows. They loaded some of the bodies onto carts and shipped them off to their nearest temples for burial preparations.
Due to natural decomposition and bloating, most of the dead could not be identified. The Lady Reapers, after conferring amongst themselves and praying to Lady Death, decided to incinerate the bodies.
They dug massive trenches and lined them with corpses. Even this was time consuming, requiring constant ignition and stoking of the flames for weeks on end. This also resulted in the spread of disease and sickness as ashes scattered with the wind and contaminated nearby streams.
Despite being highly contested and debated, neither side could be named victor in the matter. There was no gaining of lands or riches. No total annihilation of either clan. There were only lives lost and lives retained.
No more and no less.
