Morning crept over Daris, much the same as it had for the past few years. Farmers left their homes, housekeepers opened the shutters on the Blue Boar, and the Hospital awaited another quiet day without the trauma of the seriously injured. Daris had slowly slipped back into the life of a sleepy farming town since the lull in the war.

The watch bell tolled out the morning call to duty for the Redboots.

In the Barracks, the Brigadier dressed herself while reading over another night of empty reports. Since the lull had begun adventure and crime had slowly trickled from the town streets. The recent weeks had been a nice change of pace from the previous years of crime, strife, and near civil war in her streets, and the Brigadier was pleased with the change.

In the fields the farmers began their quiet toiling, while in the town the stores opened their doors as shopkeepers swept the dust from their thresholds.

The Baron Bearis Baran, and his wife Morin, had left a few days earlier for the Queen’s celebration, followed by many of the notables who had found a home in and around Daris. As was custom, many of the Knight Crusaders had also gone to ensure the safety of the Baron, leaving the Redboot Brigade the honour of patrolling the town and farmlands.

In the town the changing of the guard went without incident.

During the night a lone ship had set anchor off of Seaside, waiting for the docks to open so it could unload its goods. There was no reason to suspect anything was wrong as this happened hundreds of time each year in Daris. As the town began to stir a local pilot guided the ship to dock and her crew began to slowly unload crates in the morning sun, for few things required haste in Daris anymore.

As the first set of crates were settling onto the docks the captain of the vessel walked slowly down the gangplank holding a cloth over his mouth and approached the local dock master.

The captain spoke heatedly as the dock master began gagging from the putrid odour emanating from the stacked crates.

“Rotten, the entire shipment, gone rotten! We were chased off the coast for weeks by some pirating sea wolves!”

The dock master, still reeling from the stench, took his hand away from his nose long enough to order the captain to get the crates south of the town gates.

“Burn them or bury them! I don’t care which! Just set them down on my docks!” he demanded.

“Then you tell the watch commander of the Varanite ships! I cannot do two things at once!” rejoined the captain.
Turning on his heel he stalked back up the gangplank to supervise his crew during the unloading while the dock master gratefully headed upwind to the Redboot Barracks.

Near the West gate Captain Notter was quietly listening and nodding to the irate farmer in front of him. The complaint was the same one he had heard for a number of years. Beetles. There had always been an issue with beetles in Daris and there was always an angry farmer willing to take up some of the Captain’s time complaining about them.

Today however Notter noticed that there was indeed something wrong with the beetles. Usually quite content to sit in the fields of Daris eating the crops; they were moving in their hundreds towards the town.

The Captain had seen many things in his years, ranging from the walking dead to Balors stalking the town’s streets and this had given him an uncanny sense of when things were about to go badly for everyone. He knew that the alarm had to be sounded. Sadly, Notter never made it to the bell; a single arrow pierced his throat, leaving him clutching to Popper’s Rock as his life’s blood spilled from him.

For the beetles were not charging, but rather fleeing from the thousands of marching feet approaching.

The farmer watched in horror as the Captain fell before him before turning to flee out the West Gate. He was greeted by the gruesome sight of his friends and family being butchered by Varanite troops in the farmlands. A hail of arrows struck him down as well.

Enslaved ogres pulled siege weapons across the farmlands as their Varanite masters whipped at their flesh. The commander knew once his troops were noticed there would be little time before the alarms were sounded. He had sent his scouts ahead to silence anyone who might notice an entire legion of soldiers, ogres, and siege weapons being pulled across the open ground.

It is ironic that the beetles, which always had plagued this area, were to be the saviours of so many. The druids atop the hill, who had long watched peasants become adventurers and adventurers become legends, took notice to the screaming of the beetle’s hive mind. Its primal fear reverberated into the land and Ki’s servants wasted no time in signalling the guards.

It had been months since any real action had come to Daris, but the Brigadier had trained her men well in this time and the Redboots wasted little time in snapping into action. The gates were sealed and all soldiers were called to arms.
By now the Varanites were in plain sight of all upon the walls but the defenders of Daris had played out this scene before and were confident that with its gates sealed Daris’ walls would hold.

However, another group had played this scene out before as well. North of Daris an ominous sound was carried on the wind. Chanting in perfect union, slowly growing louder, the Magnus Order had waited for this day. Ellandral, the Arch-Magnus herself, had travelled from the capital to witness this day and she had prepared a ritual for just this occasion.

The chanting lasted for hours as Varanite soldiers surrounded Daris. Soon a rumbling noise could be heard throughout Daris and as the chanting grew louder so to did the sound of stone grinding upon itself. As the chanting reached a crescendo it abruptly stopped. For what felt like an eternity to many there was no sound anywhere near Daris except for the growing rumble under the city.

As the people of Daris gazed on in horror large shards of rock erupted forth from beneath the north and west gates, leaving them in a pile of splintered timbers.

The Brigadier gave her orders quickly, forming her troops into a battleline until the civilians could flee to Seaside; there they would make their stand. Meanwhile the Varanite Troops flowed through the ruined gates like an endless red and gold flood.

The Redboots fought bravely that day. Their heroics should have been the cause for countless awards and brave songs, but few lived to see the end of the day. Their sacrifices allowed most of the civilians to flee to Seaside where they huddled for safety in Ramman’s temple, while the priests prayed for divine intervention.

From Kane’s Tower embattled Redboots watched as buildings were set ablaze, and homes looted. They could do nothing for those trapped in the Blue Boar as it was set aflame. Nor could they save Peribo who was tortured to death against the walls of her own shop; Ellandral had long desired to see what the magical treats had been stored away behind its doors.

Young Davi, after dreaming of growing up to be a great knight in search of his dragon to slay, found no shelter from Varanite arrows. His sister ran, dropping her so often lost doll, seeking shelter in an already smouldering abandoned shack. Her body was never found. The Varanites had no intention of letting even children escape this attack.

As the sun set the fires of Daris burning cast an eerie glow over Seaside. The remaining Redboots had fortified the gates, holding back the Varanites to allow the remaining survivors to board ships and flee.

Varana’s commanders knew this would be the tactic of Daris, and had planned well for such a retreat.

No one had reason to question a ship unloading wares at port. With its deep natural harbour Daris had long been a merchant town. Nor had any thought twice of the boxes of rotten fruits and meats unloaded by the merchants. It was hardly surprising given the events of the day that they had been left unattended to.

As the final strike of the watch bell faded into echo, the crates began to strain, creak, and groan. The events of the day had left most so weary, they could have slept through the end of days, and for some, they did.

One by one the crates broke open to reveal their contents. Flesh sewn together, long dead and decayed, now given new life by evil magics. Constructs created for a sole purpose, to lay dormant until the decreed hour was at hand. These creatures, neither undead nor alive, lurched slowly towards the sealed gates.

By the time the alarm had been sounded, the creatures were already tearing apart the fortifications and attempting to open the gates. The guards and citizens alike did their best to hold back the rotting horde but steadily dozens of new creatures strode forward, absorbing blow after blow by the guards. To the horror of the defenders severed limbs and butchered torsos continued to claw themselves forward towards the south and north gates. It was not long before the golems had fulfilled their purpose and weakened the gates enough for the Varanites to finish their task.

Those who surrendered found themselves held prisoner in the jail once used to hold criminals; now converted into detainment cells as rebels were rounded up from the area. Some, few, Redboots were able to flee, escaping into the East, however most died fighting for the town they had sworn to protect. Bodies of the leaders of Daris were placed upon spikes and put upon the city walls as a warning to anyone who would dare question Varana’s authority in these lands.

Such was the fate of Daris.