TEATRC tribute & universe expansion

Well done, FuryFire. Very good read.

Another glimpse of the chaos inside Swadia!

To the Holy Swadian Ambassador to the Imperial State, Heinrich von Drosslewen

Greetings, friend! Do a classmate a favour, Heinrich. Vienna is going to fall soon and we need those Kaiserlicher guns with us. We need to get them with us as soon as possible, I can't stress this enough. The Emperor... is indisposed, the Generals are all confused and scared, the Brigadiers have penetrated to outer wall... I just fled from the city, and am now staying with my brother-in-law in Zollern. How's the wife, by the way? Anyway, I have an idea. See whether the Kaiser is interested in technology... he seems interested in the war wagons or perhaps more iron? The mountains near Ulm and Marienburg are full of iron, as you know, and we still have excess despite the conscription and militia orders. Please try and convince him. Thanks,

Prof. Gerhardt Schlessen, Ulm University.

niiice.. a little deal in the shadows, maybe a life-saver.

Hehehe, I like to think of it as the Tizard Mission of EATRC... shame the Swadians don't have a Cavity Magnetron. (For Radar) Anyway, I'll do more of these, possibly some in the Obello theatre too. Perhaps even part of the Siege of Vienna if FuryFire doesn't cover the Murond Mercs there and von Fleussringen.

I've promised some lore for the Black Hand of Murond. For those who don't know they are the ones responsible for instigating the revolution of Murond. All the Murond Gunslingers you see as mercenaries in Calradia are all Black Hand Soldiers. Here are a series of letters sent between two officials of this organization.

That's interesting to say the least.

If those Murond guys are commie bastards, I'll love them. If they're the Calradian tea party, I'll kill every last one 

Revolutionists ala French Revolution, inspired by the painting "Liberty Leading the People" by Eugene Delacroix. They strive to bring freedom to the people. While not the original envisioning by D'Sparil, I'd like to picture them as these guys, but mixed with shadiness.

Hmmm...such is acceptable. This pleases me! 

I would have thought that the Lion Throne would be more important to those bastards... or are they short sighted?


Haelmarian Hagglings, a first in a series of letters about the nations that surround the Obello and their strange ideas, arguments, treaties and rubbish. This one is focused upon the Haelmarians and the Haelmar Union.

This cheese craze is getting out of hand very much.  Try to keep some sense in the lore, man!
Keep it a "bussiness" and a "passion" for Haelmar and "an asset" for its armies, but not a world-dominating revolution or a method of mind-control or an addiction like drugs. You continue to depict things as if they live for cheese and cheese only. It's just getting a wee bit silly now. 

I'm all for a cheese-loving peolpe, who don't lose their wits by it.

Naaa... of course it's just a trade, but some people are considerably more crazed than others.

Anyway, here' another one, this time focusing on the Kaiserlickers.


Imperial Intentions

I'd like to point out that the HU colonials aren't really that supportive to the Crown, on the contrary, they are restless. Come on, it's stated by the HU claimant and the fact that colonial rebels infest the Union colonial lands. Colonials will rarely like Erik, unless he really starts caring about them, because it seems he's really been concentrating on just waging war and not improving the colonials' lives.

Are you deliberately trying to change the lore? 

It's cheese-eating propaganda!

Ha ! Der Kaiser ? Die Kaiserin describes him better !

Who says I am? I'm actually planning a few rebellions, actually.

The Colonel looked at his watch in his right hand. It ticked away. He lifted his sword, aimed it at the foe, and shouted the command,

"Fire!"

The other officers and sergeants repeated the command and the rippling fire continued. The rebels shrank from the fusilade. Clops behind him. The Colonel turned. The cavalrymen, dragoons, dismounted and went up to him, waiting for orders. The Colonel pointed his sabre at a weakened point, then touched the brim of his hat in salute to the captain leading them. Behind a crack, a cry. A man fell down, his musket clattering on the ground. The barricade was bloodied. Then a giant crash; the horse artillery had arrived.

The shot rumbled over head; one bounced in front of the infantry, and flew over a snow-covered roof; another plowed into the cloaked foe, struggling to present their guns. Sharper cracks, those of revolvers and Murond guns sounded from a small boarding house. The snow fell, blanketing the dead. The Colonel put away his watch. It was strangely peaceful he thought. Such a great sight, disturbed by such slaughter. Carrion birds circled ahead. He looked at his major, not far away, with sword in hand. He nodded. The Major, cigar in mouth, then loudly proclaimed to the men kneeling behind the barricade,

"Rise up men! FIRE!"

The volley ripped through the enemy. Some fled, some gripped their wounds, others shouted encouragement to continue on.

Four bottles flew threw the sky, flaming cloths jammed into them. One was hit by a bullet and set the land between the enemies alight. The others hit their marks. The blue cloth caught fire. The men floundered about. Some dropped and rolled out the fire on the snow; others ran around, screaming, and died. The firing continued, the Colonel oblivious. More men died, more men fell, the clouds of smoke remained constant. Then the screams began. Not of men, but of weapons.

The flaming red streaks ploughed through the sky. One hit a house, setting it on fire. Others scattered around the village and their intended targets. One hit a caisson, full of ready ammunition. It blew. One cannon was lifted up, and thrown down again, the wheels split and on fire. Several men were dead; the horses in the gun teams either fled or whinnied in terror. Chaos consumed the cannoneers. The cannonade continued, but not from those cannon. A howitzer, ready to fire, lobbed shells at the enemy rocketeers. Out of twenty teams bunched together, only three survived after five minutes' sustained fire.

The Colonel looked at the scene of chaos around him. A wounded man, his arm blown off, crawled towards him, screaming. An artilleryman behind him cried, his stomach full of shrapnel. A wounded man, lying by a wall, keeled over. Part of the barricade had been destroyed, and the troops there died as they worked to rebuild it. A surge of enemy troops resulted in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Bayonet, sword, sabre, axe, stock and pike. A man reeled away, his face and neck shot away by birdshot from a blunderbuss at close range. Another was impaled to the ground by a halberd. His attacker was dead, shot in the head by a lieutenant. The colours were on fire.

Then thunder aroused the Colonel. Behind him, an entire regiment of cavalry. The stern Hackapell Colonel turned to the Colonel, and told him that he was going to charge. The Colonel replied that doing so would cause even more rebellion and even more hate against the Haelmarians. The Hackapell refused to listen. The Infantryman ordered the Hackapell not to charge. The Hackapell refused to listen to the superior officer. The Hackapells charged.

Their swords drawn, the cavalry thundered over the barricade and into the rebels. Fighting and fleeing men were cut down. Pistols fired at everything. Men dismounted and looted houses. Buildings on fire. Butchery everywhere. A massacre, a horror of war. The Colonel ordered his men to fire upon the Hackapells, then to retreat in good order. After glancing at the Hackapells, the Colonel heard a single, sharp crack. He then fell to the ground, and all went black.

The snow continued to fall over the blood, the carrion birds circled overhead.

The Hackapells simply butchered every non-Haelmarian in crude and barbaric ways. Men and Women were trampled down. Others simply cut down. This had been done before. The snow fell on their black cuirasses and their fierce steeds. The blood ran in the gutters. Screams, curses and warcries filled the air. Smoke and blood made the air wretched. The Hackapells committed an atrocity of war. They would pay.


Comments? Anyone?

That's pretty cruel. The "story" of it escapes me, though. It's just a good description of a battle.
I thought you were also going to write about the forming of the rebellion, while zooming in on the personal struggle and heroism of a handful of main characters, for example, which could provide for the story elements.

It isn't a story as such... just a kind of... dunno, description? With human elements? I kinda like it. I'll leave the rest to anyone who wants to.

I like it.