Introduction:

After eons of uncontested power and strength, the Sages of Despair found themselves under the heel of a conquering army, which, through deceit, cunning, and betrayal, led to their inevitable downfall and the coming of the Days of Power.

A few centuries later in the pits of Angmar....

After generations of being enslaved as a brute labor and fighting force, and with a numberless army holding their chains and a tyrant ruling with an iron fist, the only hope left is that of the last remnants and descendants of the original Sages. Banding together to form a resistance, The Sons of Golgoth, they aim to take back their freedom, bring Angmar to it's knees, and rebuild the Temple of Despair!

Volume II Rules:

Every post must hold these qualities:

- Drive the story or your character
- Be realistic -- you are not a god here, and so you must have weaknesses
- Stick to the format -- it's high fantasy, not sci-fi. Certain elements, such as Steampunk, are alright as long as it meshes well with the rest of the story
- You must build from the previous posts -- no creating multiple non-related story-lines or non-related side-questing
- Stay within your character as much as possible -- keep non-player characters (NPCs) to a minimal
- Please try to use good spelling/grammar
- The daily 3-post limit in the chronicles is still in effect (though you may still post in V.I and V.II respectively) Over-posting is okay if kept in check, but please be considerate of the other Sages and make every post count!
- Please minimize out of character (OOC) posts and only place them if you have an in-character (IC) post to go with it. OOC questions without posting should be directed to a council member or another Sage.

Any post blatantly not adhering to the rules will be viewed as spam and will be summarily vanquished by thread harpies.

In the dead of night, huddled around a meager fire, the heads of the Sons of Golgoth resistance talk low while their men and women, freedom fighters bound to the Sages of Despair, sharpen their weapons in preparation for the uprising that was to begin in the morning. An uprising that was, they hoped, the turning point needed to escape the pits of Angmar.

But, as all tales of hardship go, their dreams of freedom were not meant to be.

Breaking through the solid iron doors, armor-clad soldiers, men and orcs of the Witch King, the Sage’s oppressor, fire a volley of bolts and arrows into the camp, shredding through both cloth and flesh. The Sages fought valiantly, many giving their lives, but the will of the Witch King could not be forestalled. Their magics contained by the Rada’Hans around their necks, all they could do was fight back with their fists and knives – a paltry advance against a battle-hardened army.

The slaughter coming to an end, Mendicus, a warden over the Sages, stepped into the morass of bodies. He shook his head at the sight. "What a waste." He turned to the soldiers. "Clean up this mess...and report back to the Black Captain...his will is done, and the resistance is finally crushed."

Mendicus then returned to his camp, purposefully ignoring the band of Sage leaders who escaped the massacre, sneaking back to their tents.

As he walked through the camp, awaiting the return of his colleagues from the rebel meeting they had just "broken up", Azerik began tapping his foot in impatience. "Where is that slowpoke? We were supposed to meet the High Command at the pub an hour ago..."

Just as he was thinking about leaving a figure could be seen entering the camp. Waving wildly to catch the man's attention he spoke loudly, projecting his voice, "Mendicus! Mendicus over here! The High Command is already waiting for us at the pub!"

*Mendicus sneers at Azerik* Keep your voice down, braggart! Have you no shame?!? Blood has been spilled this night!!! *exhales* I need an ale...or four. Let's go. Those blood-letters will want to know of tonight's spoils.

*claps Mendicus on the shoulder* Oh relax! We spill blood everyday! *leans in and whispers over Mendicus' shoulder* That's the 7th time this week we've had to break up these guys. Their leaders must somehow be escaping if they keep showing up after we've supposedly killed them. Word is that the Witch King himself is considering coming to camp himself just to make sure we don't screw up again. *at normal volume* Where have you been anyway? General Brande has been swearing up and down because we're late.

Dirt washes off a lot easier than blood, Azerik. If Brande wants a piece of me *rubs knuckles* he can try and take it. But I doubt the Black Captain would come down this way -- he never comes himself. It's always some new face-bashing lieutenant, who fails, and is then never seen again. *smiles* Pray we never get promoted.

But I have a plan to finally root them out for good, even though I'm just a lowly warden. *leans in to Azerik and whispers* I need to know...which slave is it that is working on how to remove the Rada'Hans? If he succeeds, and the Sages again have magic to use, there won't be any amount of 'breaking up' that will keep them safe. *pulls away as they near the pub* All they need is some good old-fashioned boot-in-rear to keep them in line...at least, after I've had a drink.

I can't recall the name of the would be remove of the Rada'Hans but the Sages of Despair haven't had anyone smart enough to do so among them since before their fall. *kicks a pebble* And don't let the General hear you talking like that...being low rankers we have restrictions on our powers as well-mine more so than yours taking my situation into account. As for the Black Captain and his lieutenants, neither of us are dumb enough to do any work worthy of getting us promoted, eh? *begins to mock serious thinking* I think I'm in the mood for a stout this week...I hear that old man Guinness makes a good stout.

Then it will be straight Clearwater for me. I'm not in the mood to dance around with my drink tonight -- I want instant, corrosive satisfaction...and maybe some dice after. *steps into the pub and sees the High command at a back table, all with impatient looks upon them, the General's face red with perturbation. * Frack us all, Azerik. Let's get this over with.

*Last post - limit reached*

*notices the General's general face color* I must say, he doesn't look too pleased. *stops nearby barmaid* Excuse me miss. Could I get a round of ale for the fine gentlemen at the back, and a Guinness stout for myself?

Barmaid: Of course, sir. That will be 200 Rupees.

Azerik: By the gods that's expensive! *forks over the cash* If it cost half my weekly salary to keep them from killing my so be it. You can pay for your own beer Mendicus, you're paid better than I am. *walks with Mendicus to the table and sits down* Fine day gentlemen. *barmaid brings drinks* You'll all be happy to know that another minor rebellion has been avoided.

soldier: *two of the soldiers walks over to Mendicus holding a strange figure in a hooded cloak. his body broken and bleeding* Sir Mendicus! We have captured this man in the group. He is very strong, we think he might be the leader of the Old Sages!

michael12268: *i lift my head and turn it to face Mendicus* You! i swear i shall get out of here and kill you for what you did!!

soldier: Silence you! *the soldier hits me over the head with the hilt of his sword knocking me unconscious*

Michael12268: *mumbling under my breath* ugh... Doran... what happened... to us...