Talos's Journal: Monday, March 13, 2017
I hear sounds of a skirmish echoing from the mountains. It appears the techbarbarian scouting parties have been ambushed by Cassettian cultists. I recognize that screeching. The lost souls of Cassettia's armies. Deserters, who through darksome magicks, are transformed into demons as punishment for their transgressions. With compact cassettes implanted in their chests, which imbue their spirits in a perpetual state of anguish, they wish to reek havoc upon whatever enemy their masters lay their gaze upon. Whether it be with their form of vile evocation or the spiked thorns of their flails. A nightmarish foe, indeed. Clad in sable cloaks and rusted crimson mail over decrepit skin.
The battle cries of the techbarbarians sound in the cacophony of the battle. I've heard tales of TechBarbaria and its people. It departed from Ultima Metallia, seeking resources and knowledge of warfare. They returned a century ago and carved out their own nation once again. Their warriors are formidable, this is true. They bear gray cloaks and armor and wield axes of their own mysterious make. Their edges have a blue glow that burns intensely. A strike from such a weapon must not be take lightly.
The hum of cyberaxes and banging of magnetic tape morningstars rend through armor and flesh this night. The war has truly begun. I shall send word to the other realms lest they begin to pursue allies in this damnable conflict.
