Background: Sunna

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It was in the cold years, when the sun was pale
and the summers were short, that the goddess
came to us. In that time of darkness, the beasts of
the wood, barbarians of the wastes and brutes of
the mountains descended upon us, and we were
swept before them as reeds before the flood. First
to rise from the mass of foes was Bragh, the Black
Bull, slayer of a hundred chieftains, shattering armour
and bodies with his great mace.
The people of the Askar lay in the path of his
westward rampage. Their King, Warin, saw all
hope was lost. Still he marshalled ninety brave
warriors to hold a ford over the river Gewache,
and buy his people time to escape the approaching
doom. The eve of the battle found him in a
riverside shrine, deep in prayer. To Ullor, Father
of Winter, he prayed for blizzards. To Volund, the
Smith, he prayed for strength of arm and steel of
spine. Finally, to Sunna, he prayed that his people
would see another dawn. The alarm was raised as
he finished railing at the silence of the gods; the
beasts came as the daylight failed.
Each defender gave their life dearly. No man fell
with his blade unblooded; a score of foes fell beneath
their feet. Yet it was not enough, for Bragh
then took the field. The Askar died to his mace,
until only King Warin stood between the Black
Bull and the western shore. Great horns gored
valiant Warin's horse, and a single blow shattered
the King's shield and arm both. The Bull stood
ready to deliver the deathstroke, when a lone soldier
leapt forward.
Helm dislodged, golden hair flowed to the warrior's
waist, Warin was stunned to see a woman
plant her boots in the bloody water between
King and Beast. Dwarfed by the Bull, even a brave
Askar maiden could not hope to hold back that
enemy. But at this moment, the dawn broke, with
a fire not seen in a decade. A blinding blaze of
light from the eastern horizon ignited her polished
breastplate and sword. The brilliance staggered
Bragh as the woman struck. The first blow
cut through Bragh's heel, bringing him crashing
to one knee. The second sunk deep into his chest,
drawing a roar of pain that shook the earth. The
third and final blow drove straight between the
monster's open jaws, and into his skull.
As the Black Bull fell, the beasts fled. Though only
one in nine survived, the King's men rushed to
Warin's side, pulling him from the river to face
his rescuer. All clamoured to know the name of
their saviour, yet the King stilled them by falling
to one knee. He knew that face, lit by the dawn’s
glory, and knew his prayers had been answered.
He offered her his sword,even as he spoke: "It is
Sunna. She has come."
— The Book of the Askar, Chapter One, taken from the Sunna Cycle

Though the Askar had come to know Sunna’s
divine heritage, one tribe alone could not hold
the storm from the East. From the West and leading
a host of Equitan knights came Uther of Gasconne,
in defiance of his King's order, inspired by
Sunna's great deeds. Next came Queen Genoveva
of the western peninsula with her many archers,
once Sunna had driven the Ancient One and his
armies into the sea. Then the defeat of the green
hordes in the White Mountains earned Sunna the
friendship of Arcaleone and his warriors. The
Breidar, Gjothar, Glauca – in time all the tribes of
humanity joined with Sunna and her holy purpose.
Little time could be spared to celebrate this unity,
as the ravenous hordes swept forth once more.
Sunna's host rode to meet them at the banks of
the Volsk. Enemies beyond count crowded on the
far shore, while smoke rose from the ruins of once
fertile plains. Men of the West took heart from the
roar of the mighty river, its waters seemingly impassable,
until shamans marked by the Dark Gods
strode from the gathered multitudes and began to
chant. Foot by creeping foot, the river froze into
a bridge of ice, and a pall fell over the assembled
humans.
Seeing the danger grow, Warin advised Sunna to
retreat, to protect her followers. But She was not
dismayed. The Åsklanders were first to charge,
scrambling to cross the river. Queen Genoveva
and her archers met the attackers with hails of
arrows, turning white ice to red slush, driving the
savages off. Then came the Makhar raiders, riding
across the thickening ice on their sturdy black
steeds with banners bearing an eight-pointed
star. Uther and his knights met them with lance
and sword, and turned the Makhar back through
valour and steel.
Finally, with the bridge littered with the bodies of
fallen foes, the Ogres advanced. Bolstered by great
mammoths, under whose weight the ice creaked
and groaned, they marched like an unstoppable
wall of flesh. Queen Genoveva held the bridge
with her archers, launching arrow after arrow
to no avail. Once more did Warin, fearing for the
lives of the people, plead with Sunna to retreat.
Instead, she walked to the river's edge, bearing
her standard for all to see. There she planted it
in the ground, spreading her arms and looking up
to the sky. Answering her call, the clouds parted
and the sun beat down more fiercely than it had
in many years.
Bathed in golden light, the ice bridge began to
crumble. Queen Genoveva reached the bank,
but many of her archers were not so fortunate,
washed downriver with great shards of ice. Yet
the great bulk of the Ogres now proved their undoing,
and thousands crashed into the icy waters.
Tales of that day spoke of the Falls of Kivack
blocked and flooding with the weight of the dead.
Humanity rejoiced at this new Spring, and praised
their saviour Sunna – certain the cold years were
at an end.

— The Book of the Askar, Chapter Five, taken from the Sunna Cycle

Sunna's forces gathered in the halls of Warin to
feast, weary from war. In that time came the
emissary from the Vermin. Grossly bloated and
adorned in finery of the Avras style, he was borne
aloft by a dozen slaves, surrounded by a hundred
black-furred guards. His proclamation echoed in
the chamber: “Serve the Empire and be rewarded.
Oppose and be destroyed.”
Sunna's generals fell to discussion. Warin led
those who would agree, and see their people
spared another war. Arcaleone urged rejection
of the terms. All counselled a united stance to defend
Vetia. Sunna listened to all, then rose, drawing
her sword Sonnstahl. At her command, the
guards were slain to a rat, the wretched slaves
dispatched, until Sunna stood over the corpulent
envoy. "A message for your masters. The dawn is
coming. " With that, he was lashed from the city,
forced to drag his mass back to Avras.
Preparations for war were made, and the
sun-blessed host marched the long miles to the
heart of the Vermin lands, intent upon slaying the
rat King. Three times were rodent armies, vast beyond
counting, sent to bar their path. The losses
mounted among Sunna's followers, yet their holy
mission would not be halted. The alliance pierced
all the way to the walls of Avras, and plans were
drawn up to storm the city.
That night, the Vermin came to Warin. They knew
of his growing doubts and fears, for he had seen
how few remained in Sunna’s force and how easily
the numbers of the rats were replenished. They
offered another way to save the Askar. One blow
of the weapon they proffered, and even a God
would be crippled. Time for the men to retreat
and terms to be reached. Conflicted, Warin took
the blade, though its inscriptions burned his eyes.
As dawn broke, the men attacked the city. On the
walls, the rat King was visible, red fur and laurel
crown marking his station before he fled into the
city. Sunna was never parted from Arcaleone in
this time, and Warin was given no chance to intercede.
As planned, Uther and Genoveva fought
a rearguard, buying time against the growing
swathes of vermin reinforcements streaming in
from across their empire, while the main force
breached the city’s mighty gates. Fighting soon
raged through the city, but Sunna and her cohort
fought to the throne room, to confront the rat
King himself.
What awaited in that place was not the same being.
Surrounded by dead priests and shards of
glowing rock, a towering beast, red of fur and toying
with the tiny laurel crown boomed a thunderous
laugh, pointing towards the brave humans.
Dozens of vermin struck at the holy woman, but
she could not be harmed by mere mortals. Elite
rodent bodyguards clashed with righteous men,
and blood flew. Arcaleone reached the King first,
and fought bravely, but men cannot stand with
Gods, and the great Rat tore the throat from the
bold son of Myra. Sunna was buried beneath
black furred bodies as she strove to reach her fallen
disciple.
Amidst the pandemonium, with Arcaleone’s
blood staining the King’s fur, Warin lost all hope.
The cries of the dying surrounded him; from the
windows he could see the rearguard fail and a
rodent tide sweep toward the city. Grasping her
arm, he freed Sunna from beneath the mound of
the dead and dying – and thrust the Vermin blade
into her side. The rats’ work was done; the blade
twisted in his hand, and what was a minor blow
became a thrust to the heart of the goddess made
flesh. Sunna’s face pinned Warin, the betrayal
filled her eyes. Before that stare, Warin fled, to
pass from the history of Vetia and become a byword
for treachery. Sunna wavered, and the King
came on in triumph. But even wounded as she
was, she did not fall, and met him blow for blow.
Their fight raged from the throne room to the
walls of the city. Rats and men turned to look
up at the legendary combat overhead. Flaming
sword clashed with glowing scimitar, sparks raining
down. A dozen wounds were traded, yet it
was the woman who faltered. Sunna staggered,
but with the last of her strength pulled Warin’s
Vermin blade from her own body, and drove it
through the creature's chest. A hideous scream
marked the King’s end, black tendrils spreading
through his veins, and he toppled broken to the
street below. Falling to her knees, overcome by
her wounds, Sunna died steeped in golden sunlight
and in the knowledge that the first city of
men was avenged.
So passed Sunna, the Uniter, who brought a new
dawn to the long night, and struck down the enemies
of humanity. In the years after, her followers
forged new nations to preserve her legacy.
Uther would become a great King of Equitaine.
Queen Genoveva's descendants would thrive in
the lands of Destria. Arcaleone would be eternally
honoured, as the Glauca and Aeturi came to name
their ancient fatherland in his honour. Greatest
of glories was reserved for the Askar, the Breidar
and the Gjothar, who would unite under the symbol
of Sonnstahl, the sword of light borne by our
saviour, Sunna. May we always live in her light.

— The Book of the Askar, Chapter Fourteen, taken from the Sunna Cycle

On those who do not serve her glory, she will rain
fiery coals and burning sulfur; scorching sunfire
will be their lot.
— Sunna Cycle. Precepts 9:27