Mythek Massacre

When the Crimson Crying first appeared like an unwelcome specter in Joldale Overhang, the town quickly descended into a bedlam of terror and uncertainty. The disease, malignant and insidious, worked its way into the minds and bodies of the townsfolk, leaving a trail of madness and death in its wake.
Two primary factions emerged amidst this chaos: The Nether-bound Covenant and the Dawnlight Purifiers. The Nether-bound Covenant, comprised primarily of miners and their families, saw the disease as a divine punishment. They believed in appeasing the wrath of Banor by surrendering to the will of the Mythek Vortex and allowing the Crimson Crying to run its course. This belief often saw them voluntarily exposing themselves to the volatile magic of the vortex, unknowingly sealing their fate to become the monstrous incarnations of their affliction.
Contrarily, the Dawnlight Purifiers, a group led by local healers, alchemists, and a handful of magic-users, saw the disease as a malignant entity to be purged. They endeavored to study the effects of the Mythek Vortex and sought to find a cure for the Crimson Crying. Their mission was marked by countless hours of rigorous study, and they performed acts of lesser restoration to provide temporary relief to the suffering.

Yet, the scales of this conflict were vastly tipped in favor of the Nether-bound Covenant. The miners, with their hardy constitutions and intimate knowledge of the complex tunnel networks, were able to maneuver and strategize more effectively in the labyrinthine copper mines. Their ranks were bolstered by the Agon-Titans, stone beings bound to the mines and, thus, loyal to the miners. The Titans' formidable strength and endurance provided the Covenant with a distinct advantage over the Purifiers.
Meanwhile, the Dawnlight Purifiers, despite their dedication and noble intentions, were grossly outmatched. Their numbers dwindled rapidly due to the relentless onslaught of the disease and the Covenant's aggression. Furthermore, their focus on research and healing, though essential, provided little defense against the superior tactics and brute force of the Covenant and their Titan allies.

The escalating conflict culminated in a bloodbath now ominously referred to as the Mythek Massacre. The streets ran red with the lifeblood of both factions, and Joldale Overhang fell into a silent, chilling desolation. Travelers learned to avoid the cursed town, and its story serves as a grim reminder of the horrors that ensue when fear and misunderstanding govern the hearts of people in the face of a seemingly insurmountable calamity.

The Conflict

Prelude

Upon the cobbled streets of Joldale Overhang, an ill wind began to blow. Amidst the soughing sighs of the surrounding forest, in the echoing depths of the abandoned copper mines, there stirred an unseen dread—a harbinger of the tumult soon to ensnare the once-bustling township.
Where once echoed the clang of pickaxe on stone, a grotesque quietude festered, a silence so profound it sang with the spectral whispers of those who had been claimed by the depths. Amongst this silence there blossomed a peculiar malady, the Crimson Crying—a testament of anguish, a cruel jest of the cosmos wrought by the Mythek Vortex's ethereal luminescence.
Blood-touched tears stained the faces of the miners, marking them with the Sigil of their imminent damnation. This insidious malady, wrapped in the cloak of banal fever, soon revealed its true nature: an anxiety that gnawed at the mind, a fear so primal it stripped bare the sanity of its victims. Yet the true horror lay not in the disease itself, but in its tragic culmination—a metamorphosis that turned man into monster, twisted by the cruelest whims of a cosmic puppeteer.
In the belly of such horrors, the people of Joldale Overhang began to fracture, their unity splintering like a mirror under the weight of a falling star. Two factions emerged from the shards of their once united community—the Nether-bound Covenant and the Dawnlight Purifiers, each faction a reflection of the other's dread, yet responding with starkly different dogmas.
Thus, the stage was set for a macabre dance of survival and domination, an eerie prelude to the grand theatre of horrors that would soon be known as the Mythek Massacre. And so, as the first signs of this brewing tempest whispered through the town, Joldale Overhang stood at the precipice of a chilling descent, a slow waltz into an Abyss from which it would never resurface.

The Engagement

In the dead of night, under an obsidian sky threaded with a tapestry of disinterested stars, the final act of Joldale Overhang's tragedy unfolded. The once lively township stood in deathly silence, its heartbeat stilled by the dread that filled every nook and cranny.

The inevitable confrontation was as grotesque as it was poignant—a bloody spectacle of kin against kin, friend against friend, each side ensnared in a dance of death. The town square, once the heart of community gatherings and celebrations, now transformed into an arena for this catastrophic clash.
The Nether-bound Covenant, their ranks bloated with monstrous forms birthed from the Crimson Crying, were an imposing sight. Filled with an unholy fervor, they surged forth, a torrent of feral madness led by the formidable Agon-Titans. Their eyes, once Human, now glowed

with an alien crimson light, their minds lost to the vortex’s insidious influence. Amidst this monstrous throng, familiar faces twisted into unfamiliar grotesqueries, a testament to the human spirit's corruption.
Against this wave of horrors, the Dawnlight Purifiers stood their ground. Though their numbers were pitifully few, their determination shone brightly, a beacon amidst the encompassing darkness. Clad in robes of white, armed with the knowledge of their research and the strength of their magic, they met the onslaught with a solemn resolve, their every effort focused on holding back the tide of their fallen kin.
But the battle was as unequal as it was inevitable. The Purifiers, despite their bravery, were outmatched. The strength of the Agon-Titans, the relentless assault of the Covenant, whittled away at their defenses. With every fallen Purifier, every burst of crimson that painted the cobblestones, the town echoed with the death throes of its last hope.
In the end, Joldale Overhang was bathed in blood, the echoes of the final clash hanging heavy in the air. The aftermath of the Mythek Massacre painted a gruesome tableau—the vestiges of a community torn asunder by fear and misunderstanding. The town, once vibrant with life, now lay desolate and abandoned, a chilling monument to the horrors of the Mythek Vortex and the curse of the Crimson Crying.

Aftermath

In the aftermath of the Mythek Massacre, Joldale Overhang was irrevocably changed. Once a thriving hub of miners and their families, the town fell into an eerie silence, a specter of its past vibrancy. The once bustling marketplace, the lively taverns, and the cheerful homes stood empty, their laughter and camaraderie replaced by an unending, bone-deep quiet.
But Joldale Overhang was far from deserted. The town, painted in shades of loss and despair, was now home to a different kind of resident: the spectral remnants of its past inhabitants. Caught in the grip of the Crimson Crying and forever marred by the violent conclusion of their lives, the spirits of the townsfolk haunted the place they once called home.
In the pallor of moonlight, ethereal forms wandered the streets, echoes of the Nether-bound Covenant and the Dawnlight Purifiers locked in their eternal conflict. Spectral miners, identifiable by their hardy attire and pickaxes, eternally clashed with the ghostly apparitions of healers and alchemists. The once mighty Agon-Titans, now spectral shadows of their former selves, lent a macabre grandeur to the spectral battles.
Caught in this endless replay of their tragedy, the ghostly inhabitants were oblivious to the passage of time. Their spectral cries and clashes filled the night air, a chilling orchestra that deterred any living soul from venturing near the accursed town.
Those brave or foolhardy enough to venture close spoke of seeing the ghostly reenactment of the town's downfall—the spectral clash of factions, the transformation of townsfolk into monsters, and the final, bloody confrontation. They spoke of a spectral vortex swirling where the real Mythek Vortex once stood, a haunting reminder of the town's ill fate.
In the end, Joldale Overhang had truly become a ghost town, its story etched into the annals of Rolara as a grim reminder of the destructive power of fear and misunderstanding. The aftermath of the Mythek Massacre, the eerie spectral battles, and the perpetual silence of the day formed a chilling requiem for a town lost to history, its spirit forever haunted by the tragedy of its downfall.

Historical Significance

In Literature

In the veiled glades of Myth Wnthalas, where silvery moonlight weaves dreams with the shadow, we watched the fall of Joldale, the once vibrant heart of the realm.
A town steeped in shared laughter and sweet murmurs of love, now an eerie echo, an Abyss clawed open by the hands of dread. From the hushed canopies of our eldritch forest, we bore silent witness to its crumbling walls, the very air heavy with the taste of despair.
Shadows danced a grotesque ballet in the spectral streets, their wails a discordant melody that shook the bones of the earth. Among the spectral spectacles, the echoes of lives lived and lost, the quiet weeping of our hearts rang true.
Yet, with our eyes of starlight and wisdom, we stood by, bound by our ancient vows of noninterference. We were as helpless as the silent Moon reflecting in the tear-streaked river, an impotent god watching the ebb of mortal tragedy.
From the ash-kissed remains of their once glorious hearth, we heard a melody—a haunting lullaby that lulled the stars to mournful slumber. A lament, woven with the final cries of Joledale's children, the sighs of the Dawnlight Purifiers, the roars of the Nether-bound Covenant.
We heard, and in our hearts, we echoed the sorrow. In our ancient tongue, a verse began to form— a mournful whisper in the wind's sigh, a shiver in the river's murmur.
"Joldale, fair maiden of the realm, wrapped in the embrace of copper and stone, now your spirit wanders, lost and lone, in the eternal night of Banor's wrath. A specter’s echo, a lover's sigh, your song now whispers in the sighing rye.
Your children, now silent as the unborn dream, embraced by the unforgiving stream of time and fear. Their laughter but a memory, a spectral chime in the wind's lonely symphony.
Once radiant in the morning's soft caress, now your streets run crimson in the night's cold press. Your heart, once filled with love and joy, now plays host to the specter's ploy.
Yet, even as you crumble, your echo remains, a testament of strength amidst the chains of fear and loss. And though we stand aside, our hearts sing the sorrow of the river's tide.
Joldale, in your fall, you teach a tale, a lesson inscribed on the winter's gale. That love and fear, side by side, are but threads in the tapestry of life's wide stride.
And so, in the whisper of the forest's breath, we remember you, Joldale, in life and death."
Our voices wove the words, a dirge that rustled in the leaves, shivered in the river weeds, and sang in the forest winds—a lamentation for Joldale Overhang, a requiem for a town lost to fear and misunderstanding.

— a mournful ballad, attributed to the High Elves of Myth Wnthalas.

Inciting Event

Mass Hysteria

Conflict Type

Skirmish

Battlefield Type

Urban

Start Date

1524

Ending Date

1525

Conflict Result

All Was Lost

Location

Joldale Overhang

Belligerents

Nether-bound Covenant

Dawnlight Purifiers

Strength

Comparative Rating: 70%

Comparative Rating: 30%

Casualties

Losses: 100%

Losses: 100%

Objectives

Maps

• 

  Ofica

  This map was drawn from the point of view of elves living in central Ofica, disregarding Jiaohai to the north and anything beyond the sea.