TEATRC tribute & universe expansion
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Le Capitan
Recruit
Thanks for the compliments people! Would you rather I kept it in one post or spread out across the thread? Apologies if updates are somewhat sporadic, I'm kinda making this up as I go along 
16th April 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
My lord, we have discovered their wretched hole! We intercepted a Hussar carrying money to them and he proved much more susceptible than the Nirdam to the blandishments of our torturers. We have allowed him to return to his country missing an arm, an eye and a horse. I have no doubt the Cossacks will pick him off soon enough. Their hideout lies in a cave little more than thirty leagues east of here, and inside are mainly women and children with a few warriors to defend them. Easy pickings, especially once the reinforcements I have requested from Odoiev arrive. I plan to lead an army there within the week.
I fear that our captured Nirdamese has escaped. We do not yet know how, but still, 'tis of no matter, for soon he and all his brother Nirdam will be dead or enslaved.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez.
28th April 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
M-my lord, they slaughtered us. The blood, and the screaming of trapped men and horses... and the arrows. Always, the rain of arrows... I will try to explain. My hand still shakes to think of the battle... We rode out with three hundred horse, reaching the valley in which the cave was around midday of the 24th. We chased a group of longbowmen into the valley, but there.. there was no cave. There was a sheer wall on two sides, and on the third was a thick forest. Once we were in the valley, those we had chased, about a hundred or so longbowmen formed three ranks. The first rank fired, and thirty good men fell from their saddles. the second rank did likewise, as the first kneeled before us and brought out staves which they planted firmly in the ground to slow our advance. Then more men appeared on the cliffsides and fired arrow after arrow after arrow... It was horrible. And then, from the open end of the valley rode our final doom. Fifty cataphracts, lances lowered, bearing the banner of the Nirdam. Amd at their head rode a Nirdam warrior clad in shining armour, bearing a great scimitar. He wore no helm, but none of us could strike him. Horse and man were trampled into the dusty floor. And still the arrows fell. Myself and barely a score of men escaped with our lives. They took no man prisoner.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez.
16th April 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
My lord, we have discovered their wretched hole! We intercepted a Hussar carrying money to them and he proved much more susceptible than the Nirdam to the blandishments of our torturers. We have allowed him to return to his country missing an arm, an eye and a horse. I have no doubt the Cossacks will pick him off soon enough. Their hideout lies in a cave little more than thirty leagues east of here, and inside are mainly women and children with a few warriors to defend them. Easy pickings, especially once the reinforcements I have requested from Odoiev arrive. I plan to lead an army there within the week.
I fear that our captured Nirdamese has escaped. We do not yet know how, but still, 'tis of no matter, for soon he and all his brother Nirdam will be dead or enslaved.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez.
28th April 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
M-my lord, they slaughtered us. The blood, and the screaming of trapped men and horses... and the arrows. Always, the rain of arrows... I will try to explain. My hand still shakes to think of the battle... We rode out with three hundred horse, reaching the valley in which the cave was around midday of the 24th. We chased a group of longbowmen into the valley, but there.. there was no cave. There was a sheer wall on two sides, and on the third was a thick forest. Once we were in the valley, those we had chased, about a hundred or so longbowmen formed three ranks. The first rank fired, and thirty good men fell from their saddles. the second rank did likewise, as the first kneeled before us and brought out staves which they planted firmly in the ground to slow our advance. Then more men appeared on the cliffsides and fired arrow after arrow after arrow... It was horrible. And then, from the open end of the valley rode our final doom. Fifty cataphracts, lances lowered, bearing the banner of the Nirdam. Amd at their head rode a Nirdam warrior clad in shining armour, bearing a great scimitar. He wore no helm, but none of us could strike him. Horse and man were trampled into the dusty floor. And still the arrows fell. Myself and barely a score of men escaped with our lives. They took no man prisoner.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez.
Bunduqdari
Sergeant Knight
I like the missing arm, eye and horse part
Le Capitan
Recruit
Thanks I didn't want to get too graphic, so I left him with all his other parts.
The following is a warrant for the arrest of one Dmiitri Olgerdez, for the loss of three hundred horse to a pathetic Nirdam rabble
Dmiitri, you have failed the Tsar. Three hundred noblemen dead with nothing to show for it is unnacceptable. Your execution is set for the fourth of june.
Chief justice Vasilei Olgeivich
I didn't want to get too graphic, so I left him with all his other parts.The following is a warrant for the arrest of one Dmiitri Olgerdez, for the loss of three hundred horse to a pathetic Nirdam rabble
Dmiitri, you have failed the Tsar. Three hundred noblemen dead with nothing to show for it is unnacceptable. Your execution is set for the fourth of june.
Chief justice Vasilei Olgeivich
Le Capitan
Recruit
D'Sparil said:Le Capitan said:
Hah! thats the day of my birthday
1st June 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
My lord, I beg of you, spare me from this cruel fate. Give me a troop of cavalry and I will bring you the heads of three hundred noblemen of Swadia or Lauria, or the Ormeli empire. I will ride out for you against the Hackapells of the Union or the Hussars of the Grand Duchy, just spare me from execution and let me never have sight of a Nirdamese archer again.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez
History records that Dmiitri Olgerdez fell on the 8th of june 1495 in battle against a band of Halmar allied Hackapells, having personally slain five of the men. His head was worn on the Hackapell's saddle for three weeks afterwards.
Le Capitan said:D'Sparil said:Le Capitan said:
Hah! thats the day of my birthday
1st June 1495
Urgent dispatch by courier to Tsar Feodor the Great, our saviour and lord of the east,
My lord, I beg of you, spare me from this cruel fate. Give me a troop of cavalry and I will bring you the heads of three hundred noblemen of Swadia or Lauria, or the Ormeli empire. I will ride out for you against the Hackapells of the Union or the Hussars of the Grand Duchy, just spare me from execution and let me never have sight of a Nirdamese archer again.
Your ever faithful servant, Dmiitri Olgerdez
History records that Dmiitri Olgerdez fell on the 8th of june 1495 in battle against a band of Halmar allied Hackapells, having personally slain five of his own men. His head was worn on the Hackapell's saddle for three weeks afterwards.
By me
*EDIT*
Also, fixed that for you, oh Dmitri the Incompetant
Agent Griff
Master Knight
Lives of the Popes
Being a Chronicle of the reigns of all Popes previous to the reign of our Most Beneficent and Lauded Pope Saldian
Being a Chronicle of the reigns of all Popes previous to the reign of our Most Beneficent and Lauded Pope Saldian
Let it be here written as a reminder for all future generations of the greatness and magnificence of He who sits the Lion Throne. Albeit all are one, in title and esteem, all are at the same time different and henceforth the reigns of every Pope ever to sit the Throne shall be recorded, as testimony to our ancestors of the pride they must have for their forbears and of the respect they must always possess for our Lord and Protector, the Pope, without whom none would have a tie to the Almighty Filaharn.
[Pages are missing]
And thus, after His predecessor joined Filaharn in the Great Halls above where all Popes reign after their flesh becomes immortal and their soul passes to Eternity, Pope Gerontius came to sit the Throne of Lions in the year of Filaharn, 1287, and in the Thirteenth Day of the month where the Sun is at its height, July. The rule of His predecessor had been fraught with troubles, the Varians and the defiant men of Gallen ever being a threat to the well being of the borders of Filaharn's Chosen. At one time the barbarians even came close to the walls of our Holy Citadel of Galius yet the magnificence of the previous Pope, His Holiness Pope Leobard, come at the head of His hosts to defend His City and His People held the barbarians at bay. Pope Leobard died shortly after His show of strength, being an old man who was getting closer to Filaharn with each passing day.
After He was fully embraced by Filaharn, the former Pope was buried with all the respect one of His position would come to deserve. Ignoring the required thirty days of mourning and sorrow, the new Pope Gerontius, a young man still in His prime and with a will unlike any before Him, sprung from the Throne to lead His armies in retribution for all the shames and humiliations suffered at the hands of the barbarians during the reign of His predecessor. In the reign of His Holiness Gerontius, the armies of the Lion Throne were not as they were today. They were as in a state of slumber, unaware of their full potential and off the greatness one could achieve with Filaharn in his heart and in his mind. Pope Gerontius awakened them and instilled in them a love of Filaharn the like of which had not been seen ever since the reign of the Fist Pope and Hand of Filaharn. Even today, only the best of the men of the Brigade of the Radiant Cross can boast to love Filaharn as the warriors of Gerontius did.
Gerontius also brought into being the Hands of the Pope, fearless warriors with dauntless loyalty for Filaharn, first and foremost, and then for His Messenger on this Earth, the Pope. Arming them with the best the armouries of Galius could provide and leading them into each and every battle served only to bolster the already excellent morale of the soldiers of the Radiant Cross. Equipped with clothes of forged iron and weapons of bright steel, the Brigadiers of the Radiant Cross, led by their Pope and His Hands, carved a path into the lands of Gallen.
At first victory seemed difficult for the Gallenians were elusive as fish struggling to escape the inevitable net of an experienced fisherman. Seeing their homes burnt down in the name of the Radiant Cross, however, and their families taken to Galius to serve Filaharn as slaves, an otherwise great honour which went unappreciated by the barbarians, spurred the Gallenian nobility to finally mobilize their troops in an effort to drive the Pope and His Host out of their lands. With support from a great party of Varian nobles come to finish what they had started under the walls of Holy Galius, the men of Gallen managed to marshal a force of more than Eighty Thousand swords, bent on destroying the Pope and the brave men who followed in his wake and then advancing on to Galius, in order to ravage its beauty and plunder its riches.
Pope Gerontius, with a meagre force of merely Fifty Thousand men with the Radiant Cross on their shields and escutcheons, was hard pressed by the barbarians. If He retreated, He risked losing His army on the way back to Galius to raids by the dishonourable Varian light-horse, nothing more than bandits and brigands in peace time but valuable during war as scouts and foragers. If He stood and fought, He risked losing both the lives of His men and His own life. Choosing honour rather than shame and his love for Filaharn rather than his love for himself, Brave Gerontius stood his ground on a great hill which was the burial mound of a Gallenian king, slain in the early wars against the Lion Throne, when the followers of Filaharn were still in their infancy. With His brave men arrayed all around Him and ready to die in the name of both Filaharn and His representative on Earth, Brave Gerontius uttered a litany of war to Filaharn together with His men. Near Fifty Thousand singing the Litany of Filaharn at War had the effect of deeply unnerving the men of Gallen and their Varian allies, making them think about their motives and whether or not laying down their weapons was wiser than fighting such a force for whom death was an equal reward to victory.
In the end, however, the foolishness of men won over the wisdom of the Divine and the barbarians marched on the ranks of the Radiant Cross. Marching at first in almost organized fashion, something unusual for barbarians of their ilk, the men of Gallen soon showed their true worth by breaking into a charge when they were no farther than one hundred paces from the hill. The horsed Varians followed, spurring their horses to a gallop and then to a charge. Almost as if the will of Filaharn said so, in the moment when the Brigadiers of the Radiant Cross lowered their spears and locked their shields together to receive the charge of the Varian horse the Sun shone brightly in the faces of Filaharn's foes. With the Sun in their eyes and the steel of Holy Galius in their breasts, the charge of the Varian chivalry was torn asunder, hundreds of brave horsemen dying under the swords and spears of Filaharn's Brigadiers. Dismayed by the fall of their riders and the capture of their leaders, who had been the first to charge, the rest of the Varians were unwilling to continue the fight and soon retreated.
Left with a force of only Sixty Thousand after the retreat of the Varians, who had seen the wisdom in not fighting against Filaharn and his chosen, the Gallenians continued the battle on their own. Running towards the ranks of the Radiant Cross in the wake of the disastrous charge of the Varian heavy-horse, the footmen of Gallen lost all vigour in their arms and stamina in their flesh. Filaharn again showed whom He favoured. Seeing that His foe was greatly weakened by the up-hill charge, Pope Gerontius donned His Helm, blessed by the Priesthood of Galius before the campaign, and ordered His men to advance and cut down all in their path.
And so they did.
Thrust after bloody thrust, swing after bloody swing and hack after bloody hack, the Brigadiers of the Radiant Cross fought and died in the name of Filaharn with a smile under their helmed faces. Slaying their foes as one and carving a bloody path through the Gallenians who kept coming, hell-bent on either destroying their foes or their own army, the Brigadiers soon reached the base of the hill and the field that surrounded it. With Valiant Gerontius Himself leading the charge at the head of His Holy Hands the men of the Brigade soon reached the cowardly Prince of the Gallenians. He had held back with a company of his finest household troops, men armed from head to foot in Gallenian armour of the finest making available to them. They were defiant of Filaharn and of His Chosen, the Pope, and that would only lead to their downfall.
They fought bravely, holding off the Brigade, which quickly surrounded them and their leader, for what seemed like hours. With their shields locked together and their lances and axes held high it seemed like only night-fall would bring an end to the fighting. What remained of the Gallenian host, though dismayed, started rallying around the last stand of their leader and his brave men. Pope Gerontius, spotting the danger, gathered a company of his best troops around Him. Dozens of Brigadiers and a score of His Hands came to their leader's side, ready to die if He so wished it. Ordering a path to be cleared for them, Gerontius hurled them towards the Gallenian shield-wall. Ignoring death and led by the Pope's Hands they submitted to the will of Filaharn's Chosen. Charging the shields of their adversaries ferociously, the Brigadiers and the Hands managed to force a breach in the otherwise impervious wall. This was done with great price to the Hands, however, slain to the last during this attempt to end the battle. Seeing the breach made in the shield-wall, Gerontius charged with His horse into the midst of the Gallenian Prince's bodyguard, hacking a path as He went. The rest of the Brigade, fretting for the safety of their leader and forgetting for but a moment about their commitment to Filaharn, followed the Pope into the breach, fighting all the more fiercely out of love for His bravery.
Divided into several smaller pockets of resistance, the remaining Household Guard was quickly slaughtered by the Brigadiers, eager to exact vengeance upon the bravest of the Gallenian host. No mercy was afforded to these men, who had so bloodied the Brigade and slain all of the Hands of the Pope. Their Prince, however, was not as valiant. Seeing himself surrounded he quickly surrendered his sword to the nearest Brigadier, pleading for mercy. Pope Gerontius was quick to give it to him. Filaharn's mercy, reserved only for those who spite him and counter him to the last. With his Blade of Truth and Mercy, Brave Gerontius put an end to the unworthy life of the Gallenian Prince, whose name is unfit to grace this Chronicle.
With the battle won and the Gallenians crushed, their leader dead, Pope Gerontius had free rule of Gallen. None were left to oppose Him, save the Varians who had retreated to their hidden fastnesses, ready for a war of attrition against an enemy they couldn't defeat on the field of honourable battle. Gallen, thus became the first land to enter the rule of the Lion Throne after a Campaign in Filaharn's Name. It was not to be the last, however.
[A few more pages are torn]
(To be continued)
~~~
I told you I wanted to write a chronicle-like text so here it is. Long though it may be, I hope you like it all the same and take the time to read it.
Agent Griff
Master Knight
Litany of Filaharn at War
When twilight comes and darkness rules
And command of His hosts is left to mere fools
Then you will not see defeat, for no greater purpose,
Does Filaharn have than leading His forces
With each fleeting thought and every thread of His will
Filaharn, His purpose set and his cry shrill,
Will fill the mind of even the weakest warrior
Making His foe feel all the more sorrier
For when in the air you feel the scent of war
You know surely that you will meet the hosts of the Lion Throne
And even the greatest of the foe can do nothing do contend
With Filaharn's Will and the pits where he'll descend
After the strike of the blade is delivered by a valiant Brigadier,
The foe shall be crushed along with all others near
And then they shall feel Filaharn's Wrath in the air,
And they will know that it is the moment of their greatest despair!
After their cities are blazed in the Radiant Cross' flame
And their greatest warriors are all put to shame,
Then they will know who they must fear:
Filaharn and His Chosen whenever they're near
After their rulers and people and warriors convert
And their lands and borders utterly revert
To their rightful Ruler, then all is made clear
Filaharn is to all, what they must hold dear
And then all will undoubtedly say,
"Oh what a grievous mistake we made that day!
To oppose in arms and attack with surprise
He, most benevolent, who has brought our demise!"
For besides Filaharn, there is no other way!
Despite what all heretics may say
Until the Brigade brings them to heel in one righteous assault
With the Throne's battle-cry of "Filaharn Vult"!
~~~
I hope you liked this slight poem and I hope it is in the Lion Throne's spirit. And I'm glad you liked it Eumolphus! I strived for a style similar to what one would find in a chronicle praising the rule of a king or some such. Think of it as "Bible meets Mein Kampf".
Le Capitan
Recruit
Why did I have to post my dispatches on the same page as this? Your writing really is excellent.
Your writing really is excellent.
Agent Griff
Master Knight
And I thank you for the praise.
I really liked your work as well, though, and it was one of the things that got me into writing for this. I really felt for Dmitri Olgerdez and his plight, by tale's end. He was just trying to make the Tsar proud.
I really liked your work as well, though, and it was one of the things that got me into writing for this. I really felt for Dmitri Olgerdez and his plight, by tale's end. He was just trying to make the Tsar proud.
Awesome writting indeed Agent Griff, both the chronicles and the litany.
I'm really liking these hymns and the like, I'll put them in game somehow.
Hehe, yeah I too felt sorry for him, but you know how the Tsar is.
Anyways the hackapells I added to Halmar from the start, althoug I don't think I can make them ride with the severed heads of their enemies
EDIT: alright, several ways to put the lore in-game just ocurred to me. It's a boring cloudy sunday, and it's about to start raining, so I guess I'll have to time test some of these ideas.
I'm really liking these hymns and the like, I'll put them in game somehow.
Agent Griff said:
Hehe, yeah I too felt sorry for him, but you know how the Tsar is.
Anyways the hackapells I added to Halmar from the start, althoug I don't think I can make them ride with the severed heads of their enemies
EDIT: alright, several ways to put the lore in-game just ocurred to me. It's a boring cloudy sunday, and it's about to start raining, so I guess I'll have to time test some of these ideas.
Agent Griff
Master Knight
I was afraid my lore was somehow wrong since writing for something like this is a very hit and miss affair. But I do like making **** up so I guess it works well for me. I also try to keep with established items of lore and you can notice that from the fact that I keep away from current affairs and try to show things from "ancient" history of sorts.
Thus, I tried to show how the Lion Throne conquered its first province. Since I spotted the county of Gallen on the map I thought it'd be a good victim. I also added the Varians getting their asses kicked just for good measure, in order to show how badass the Throne was.
Thus, I tried to show how the Lion Throne conquered its first province. Since I spotted the county of Gallen on the map I thought it'd be a good victim. I also added the Varians getting their asses kicked just for good measure, in order to show how badass the Throne was.
Do you need me to put the stradioti lore as a dialogue, or are you working on it?
P.S. Some Bermianese lore may be coming soon
P.S. Some Bermianese lore may be coming soon
Le Capitan
Recruit
Something in a different style now:
A volley scythed through the Vaegir horsemen as they charged across the open field. Dozens fell from their saddles to be trampled into the dust by their fellows. And still the cavalry rode onwards.
“Second rank, open fire!” shrieked the Nirdamese captain as the cavalry neared the position of his sixty or so Nirdam marksmen. Behind them cowered nearly five hundred Nirdam refugees fleeing the wrath of the vengeful Vaegir warriors.
The Nirdamese were drawn up in three ranks, using the tactic devised by the guerrilla leader Ezekiel of the first rank firing, then falling back through the second and third ranks to allow the second rank to fire. The second rank would then withdraw through the third and original first ranks, and so on, keeping up a constant stream of fire that would totally demoralise most enemies. These horsemen were too numerous and could see how few archers there were to be routed by the strategy this time. The cavalry were now only two hundred yards away, and closing fast. Behind the Nirdam blew a loud blast on a war horn. The refugees scrambled to the sides of the battle as fifty men, clad from head to toe in Lamellar and mail and mounted on great chargers armoured in the same way. They bore great long bladed lances that seemed to be completely bronzed metal and broad bladed scimitars. At their head rode a Nirdamese captain armoured in shining gold scale and bearing the banner of the old Nirdam guard who had once fought bravely for King Leiss of the Dual Monarchy.
As the Nirdam troops in between scrambled aside, the two cavalry formations crashed together, the lance armed cataphracts tearing through the Vaegir aristocrats. Ezekiel slashed at the face of a Vaegir, a smile of satisfaction dancing on his embittered face as the man toppled from his horse into the mud.
“Ride through them, men! Don’t get bogged down in the fight!” he commanded, urging his horse on through the melee. He ducked the swipe of a Bardiche and impaled it’s wielder on the tip of the banner. Meeting twenty of his cataphracts on the other side of the battle he led a second charge into the fight as Nirdam archers rained death on any Vaegir who tried to pull back and regroup. Using the banner as a lance he slew a heavy cavalryman, beheading another with his scimitar. Blood and corpses covered the muddy field. In the death of every Vaegir Ezekiel exacted his revenge for the slaughter of his people. In their screams he heard the screams of every child killed in the riots. The inhuman faces of the Vaegir townspeople, men and women he had seen walking the streets alongside his own people, shopping and talking and… His thoughts flew back to the battle as a Nirdam cataphracts rode in front of him, taking a spear meant for Ezekiel through the heart. Ezekiel’s face hardened. Another death for the tally, he thought as he split the head of the Vaegir in two with his scimitar. The thirty or so Vaegirs still among the living attempted to flee but were cut down by a volley of accurate bowfire. Of the two hundred Vaegir horsemen only nineteen had escaped. The Nirdam killed the wounded. A column of dust was sited to the west, and a Nirdam scout reported that a force of at least four hundred foot was approaching. With only thirty-eight cataphracts and fifty archers Ezekiel ordered a few archers to lead the refugees to the lands of the Grand Duchy and safety. He took the rest of their men quickly back to their current camp at the foot of Mt. Hydekta, sending a few men west to delay the infantry.
I know the cataphracts were really Vaegirs, but they looked brilliant.
Edit: Reading this through, it isn't really as good as Dmiitri's letters. Ah, well.
A volley scythed through the Vaegir horsemen as they charged across the open field. Dozens fell from their saddles to be trampled into the dust by their fellows. And still the cavalry rode onwards.
“Second rank, open fire!” shrieked the Nirdamese captain as the cavalry neared the position of his sixty or so Nirdam marksmen. Behind them cowered nearly five hundred Nirdam refugees fleeing the wrath of the vengeful Vaegir warriors.
The Nirdamese were drawn up in three ranks, using the tactic devised by the guerrilla leader Ezekiel of the first rank firing, then falling back through the second and third ranks to allow the second rank to fire. The second rank would then withdraw through the third and original first ranks, and so on, keeping up a constant stream of fire that would totally demoralise most enemies. These horsemen were too numerous and could see how few archers there were to be routed by the strategy this time. The cavalry were now only two hundred yards away, and closing fast. Behind the Nirdam blew a loud blast on a war horn. The refugees scrambled to the sides of the battle as fifty men, clad from head to toe in Lamellar and mail and mounted on great chargers armoured in the same way. They bore great long bladed lances that seemed to be completely bronzed metal and broad bladed scimitars. At their head rode a Nirdamese captain armoured in shining gold scale and bearing the banner of the old Nirdam guard who had once fought bravely for King Leiss of the Dual Monarchy.
As the Nirdam troops in between scrambled aside, the two cavalry formations crashed together, the lance armed cataphracts tearing through the Vaegir aristocrats. Ezekiel slashed at the face of a Vaegir, a smile of satisfaction dancing on his embittered face as the man toppled from his horse into the mud.
“Ride through them, men! Don’t get bogged down in the fight!” he commanded, urging his horse on through the melee. He ducked the swipe of a Bardiche and impaled it’s wielder on the tip of the banner. Meeting twenty of his cataphracts on the other side of the battle he led a second charge into the fight as Nirdam archers rained death on any Vaegir who tried to pull back and regroup. Using the banner as a lance he slew a heavy cavalryman, beheading another with his scimitar. Blood and corpses covered the muddy field. In the death of every Vaegir Ezekiel exacted his revenge for the slaughter of his people. In their screams he heard the screams of every child killed in the riots. The inhuman faces of the Vaegir townspeople, men and women he had seen walking the streets alongside his own people, shopping and talking and… His thoughts flew back to the battle as a Nirdam cataphracts rode in front of him, taking a spear meant for Ezekiel through the heart. Ezekiel’s face hardened. Another death for the tally, he thought as he split the head of the Vaegir in two with his scimitar. The thirty or so Vaegirs still among the living attempted to flee but were cut down by a volley of accurate bowfire. Of the two hundred Vaegir horsemen only nineteen had escaped. The Nirdam killed the wounded. A column of dust was sited to the west, and a Nirdam scout reported that a force of at least four hundred foot was approaching. With only thirty-eight cataphracts and fifty archers Ezekiel ordered a few archers to lead the refugees to the lands of the Grand Duchy and safety. He took the rest of their men quickly back to their current camp at the foot of Mt. Hydekta, sending a few men west to delay the infantry.
I know the cataphracts were really Vaegirs, but they looked brilliant.
Edit: Reading this through, it isn't really as good as Dmiitri's letters. Ah, well.
Le Capitan
Recruit
By order of the Tsar, Feodor The Great, Saviour Of The Vaegirs And Lord Of The East, the following is to be pinned on any public place on the 1st of january this year
Hear the new laws, citizens of the Tsardom of Vaegirs, for they will rid us of the foul menace of the non-Vaegir races who would have destroyed our nation utterly without the intervention of our great Tsar.
1. Any non-Vaegir residing in the lands formerly known as the Dual Monarchy, now the Tsardom of Vaegirs is to leave immediately. All Vaegir citizens have the right to turn over to the authorities anyone not of the Vaegir race found in our lands after the 2nd of january this year.
2. Any man found to be sheltering non-Vaegirs will be arrested and executed.
3. Any non-Vaegir still in our lands after the 2nd of january will be executed. All loyal citizens have the right to carry out this execution without fear of rebuke or retribution.
4. Any non-Vaegir assaulting physically or verbally a Vaegir citizen will be tortured and executed.
5. All non-Vaegirs must hand over all money and possessions to the correct authorities. Citizens have the right to confiscate possessions from non-Vaegirs who refuse to do this.
Fragment of a Vaegir poster found pinned on the wall of the cave in which the Nirdam Ezekiel Dizyana resides.
Sorry for the double post, just had the idea for this.
Hear the new laws, citizens of the Tsardom of Vaegirs, for they will rid us of the foul menace of the non-Vaegir races who would have destroyed our nation utterly without the intervention of our great Tsar.
1. Any non-Vaegir residing in the lands formerly known as the Dual Monarchy, now the Tsardom of Vaegirs is to leave immediately. All Vaegir citizens have the right to turn over to the authorities anyone not of the Vaegir race found in our lands after the 2nd of january this year.
2. Any man found to be sheltering non-Vaegirs will be arrested and executed.
3. Any non-Vaegir still in our lands after the 2nd of january will be executed. All loyal citizens have the right to carry out this execution without fear of rebuke or retribution.
4. Any non-Vaegir assaulting physically or verbally a Vaegir citizen will be tortured and executed.
5. All non-Vaegirs must hand over all money and possessions to the correct authorities. Citizens have the right to confiscate possessions from non-Vaegirs who refuse to do this.
Fragment of a Vaegir poster found pinned on the wall of the cave in which the Nirdam Ezekiel Dizyana resides.
Sorry for the double post, just had the idea for this.
Boomie
Knight at Arms
The Laurian Pikes can be seen from atop the tree line, so long were they birds flew out of the trees to avoid them. Laurian drums could be heard from the distance, beating away to keep the rhythm of the march. Laurian horsemen can be seen from a distance, scouting at the old Nordic walls of Wercheg. They come in large numbers. The garrison in Wercheg barely reaches four hundred soldiers, maybe five hundred if we draft some of the populace, but I doubt any of that would work. Messengers will have been sent, probably one of the Cossacks in the garrison, that's one of our elite out of the siege. The men are restless, most of them wish to leave, but knowing that outside, there may not be any place to get away.
"Steady men," shouts Polkovnik Pavel, getting up to the ramparts, "If you try to desert, they will kill you. If you stay here, you might just live long enough to see the Emperor-King coming from the East, with thousands of soldiers from our lands. Steady yourselves, we shall stay here, wait for them. When the Emperor-King arrives, we sally out and we meet them. Now, gather your bows and crossbows, ready the mortars. Levy the populace, get the rest to the back."
The men were silent, some went down to follow orders, but the rest kept watch of the coming army, not knowing what to do. I went over to the Nirdam, Ishmael. He was a good friend, and a better shot. "Ishmael," I told him, "see if we're in range."
"They are not even out of the forests," argued Ishmael, typical of Nirdams to make sure of the calculations. "It would be an arrow wasted."
"Just try, I will take the blame if we're caught."
"If you say so." He took his longbow and lodged an arrow in, a Khergit arrow, fine for long ranges. Literally millions of arrows were sold from the Khanate to the south. He fired, it soared for a few seconds before landing just a few inches from the tree line. "I'll inform the Polkovnik we're almost in range," said Ishmael, "keep watch on them, Maikel." He ran down the ramparts, running after the Polkovnik who was hiring some of the mercenaries from the taverns.
"They are coming," I kept saying to myself, "they are coming."
Author's Note: Too lazy to add any more, was done within... eh, thirty minutes, give or take.
Editz
"Maikel! Get over here, you damn Perussi," shouts Ishmael, having come back from the streets. "The Polkovnik wants to see you, he's in the Spitting Bull. He says it's urgent, quick before we get in trouble!" I immediately ran for the steps, running through the streets. They are now crowded, people gathering whatever belongings they can hold on to, running for the sea, where Perussi ships, my ships, were ready to take them to our islands. Our people are hospitable, they will take care of them for as long as is needed, or until we can get them back to their own lands. The mercenaries who were hired are now being lined up outside the taverns and pubs they came from. Caravan Guards, Crossbowmen, and other disgusting filth of a mercenary that came to scavenge the riches in Calradia.
"Sir Polkovnik, you asked for me, sir," I said to him, trying hard to hide the fact that I'm almost out of breath for running through almost all of Wercheg.
"Ah, you'll be the man Ishmael talked about?" asked the Polkovnik.
"Sir?"
"Ishmael reported to me that you asked him to see if the Nirdamese are within bow range, is this true?"
"Yes - yes sir, yes."
"Good, I guess I'll have use for you. First, what do you think of these?" He motioned to the men outside. They wore barely any armour, just some leather. On their hips were two holsters with pistols, flintlock by the looks of it. "Hälmarians, they will be good for when we are in pistol range. They will be by the gate with some of the Vaegir Guards."
"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but why have you called for me, sir?"
"Ah yes, well since you were intuitive enough to know if we're in bow range, you'll be ordering a company of Nirdams. They will fire the first shots, now off with you. Order them to prepare on the walls, and fire when the Laurians are out of the tree line. Off with you then, there's another tavern I have to go to. Oh and I'll be promoting you to Leytenant then, don't mind your ships, I have more able men on them, you go to the ramparts then, go on."
I ran back across the streets, ha! I was a Leytenant, I can't wait to see the look on Ishmael's face when he hears this.
"Steady men," shouts Polkovnik Pavel, getting up to the ramparts, "If you try to desert, they will kill you. If you stay here, you might just live long enough to see the Emperor-King coming from the East, with thousands of soldiers from our lands. Steady yourselves, we shall stay here, wait for them. When the Emperor-King arrives, we sally out and we meet them. Now, gather your bows and crossbows, ready the mortars. Levy the populace, get the rest to the back."
The men were silent, some went down to follow orders, but the rest kept watch of the coming army, not knowing what to do. I went over to the Nirdam, Ishmael. He was a good friend, and a better shot. "Ishmael," I told him, "see if we're in range."
"They are not even out of the forests," argued Ishmael, typical of Nirdams to make sure of the calculations. "It would be an arrow wasted."
"Just try, I will take the blame if we're caught."
"If you say so." He took his longbow and lodged an arrow in, a Khergit arrow, fine for long ranges. Literally millions of arrows were sold from the Khanate to the south. He fired, it soared for a few seconds before landing just a few inches from the tree line. "I'll inform the Polkovnik we're almost in range," said Ishmael, "keep watch on them, Maikel." He ran down the ramparts, running after the Polkovnik who was hiring some of the mercenaries from the taverns.
"They are coming," I kept saying to myself, "they are coming."
Author's Note: Too lazy to add any more, was done within... eh, thirty minutes, give or take.
Editz
"Maikel! Get over here, you damn Perussi," shouts Ishmael, having come back from the streets. "The Polkovnik wants to see you, he's in the Spitting Bull. He says it's urgent, quick before we get in trouble!" I immediately ran for the steps, running through the streets. They are now crowded, people gathering whatever belongings they can hold on to, running for the sea, where Perussi ships, my ships, were ready to take them to our islands. Our people are hospitable, they will take care of them for as long as is needed, or until we can get them back to their own lands. The mercenaries who were hired are now being lined up outside the taverns and pubs they came from. Caravan Guards, Crossbowmen, and other disgusting filth of a mercenary that came to scavenge the riches in Calradia.
"Sir Polkovnik, you asked for me, sir," I said to him, trying hard to hide the fact that I'm almost out of breath for running through almost all of Wercheg.
"Ah, you'll be the man Ishmael talked about?" asked the Polkovnik.
"Sir?"
"Ishmael reported to me that you asked him to see if the Nirdamese are within bow range, is this true?"
"Yes - yes sir, yes."
"Good, I guess I'll have use for you. First, what do you think of these?" He motioned to the men outside. They wore barely any armour, just some leather. On their hips were two holsters with pistols, flintlock by the looks of it. "Hälmarians, they will be good for when we are in pistol range. They will be by the gate with some of the Vaegir Guards."
"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but why have you called for me, sir?"
"Ah yes, well since you were intuitive enough to know if we're in bow range, you'll be ordering a company of Nirdams. They will fire the first shots, now off with you. Order them to prepare on the walls, and fire when the Laurians are out of the tree line. Off with you then, there's another tavern I have to go to. Oh and I'll be promoting you to Leytenant then, don't mind your ships, I have more able men on them, you go to the ramparts then, go on."
I ran back across the streets, ha! I was a Leytenant, I can't wait to see the look on Ishmael's face when he hears this.
teh.frickin.pope
Sergeant Knight
This being the journal of Renos Ovrin, last Captain Of The Cydallian Guard,December the second, 0 AC.
It has been over a week since the fall of Beloved Cydal and yet I still cannot bear to turn my thoughts to the events of that awful day. As long as my heart beats and breath issues forth from my lungs will I seek vengeance against the perpetrators of these vilest of crimes. We have ridden hard and fast, and though nary a word has passed between us, I know that one by one we have each realized over the preceding days that we are indeed the last of our people. The rain has not ceased since we began our journey, Scia herself weeps for our loss, of this I am sure. Her providence is appreciated even in our time of sorrow, as the downpour keeps most indoors, and the less that see our passing the better. We ride North and East, seeking a place of rest and succor, seeking a place that is still free of the grip of the Pope and his false god. As for the moment, we have hidden in a grove of pines, waiting for the coming dawn. Our supplies are low, and we are woefully ill prepared for trapping. May the love of the Gods and the memories of our families keep us strong.
Renos Ovrin.
It has been over a week since the fall of Beloved Cydal and yet I still cannot bear to turn my thoughts to the events of that awful day. As long as my heart beats and breath issues forth from my lungs will I seek vengeance against the perpetrators of these vilest of crimes. We have ridden hard and fast, and though nary a word has passed between us, I know that one by one we have each realized over the preceding days that we are indeed the last of our people. The rain has not ceased since we began our journey, Scia herself weeps for our loss, of this I am sure. Her providence is appreciated even in our time of sorrow, as the downpour keeps most indoors, and the less that see our passing the better. We ride North and East, seeking a place of rest and succor, seeking a place that is still free of the grip of the Pope and his false god. As for the moment, we have hidden in a grove of pines, waiting for the coming dawn. Our supplies are low, and we are woefully ill prepared for trapping. May the love of the Gods and the memories of our families keep us strong.
Renos Ovrin.
