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For many seasons had the citadel of Kilkenne, true Emperor of the Northlands lie dormant. For too many had it been falling into neglect. But in the last week, masses have been on the move, all going North. All bearing the black Cross, set against the deep Crimson of the flags. Kilkenne was returning to his ancestral grounds. He was back.
Millions flocked to him, from all through mossflower, bearing well-kept armour, looking as it did the day that the Militia was disbanded. Now was to be a new order in the North. A strong one. Looking towards the mountains, any beast in Mossflower can hear the dull pounding of drums, and sometimes they may see the well-ordered drill marching of the rats and stoats, all in the lorica segmentata of the Imperial Forces of the North. All in synchronization. All with one thing on their minds.
And so the rumour grew, reaching even the lowest parts of Southsward...Kilkenne had returned...But he was dead?
The rumours grew.
For many seasons had the citadel of Kilkenne, true Emperor of the Northlands lie dormant. For too many had it been falling into neglect. But in the last week, masses have been on the move, all going North. All bearing the black Cross, set against the deep Crimson of the flags. Kilkenne was returning to his ancestral grounds. He was back.
Millions flocked to him, from all through mossflower, bearing well-kept armour, looking as it did the day that the Militia was disbanded. Now was to be a new order in the North. A strong one. Looking towards the mountains, any beast in Mossflower can hear the dull pounding of drums, and sometimes they may see the well-ordered drill marching of the rats and stoats, all in the lorica segmentata of the Imperial Forces of the North. All in synchronization. All with one thing on their minds.
And so the rumour grew, reaching even the lowest parts of Southsward...Kilkenne had returned...But he was dead?
The rumours grew.