TEATRC tribute & universe expansion

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Starve?!? Before you can get your Bratwurst to your mouth the Winged Hussars will be upon you! Even dismounted they kill Kaiserlicher.

EDIT:
On-topic: It is an unwritten rule that Kaiserlichers must suck in the lore.
 
Im new to this so i decided to write a story of my imaginary character.
'I, Commander of the 30th Kaiserlicher Strike Force, here know appoint my son, Treon, lord of my castle and its surrounding land. Kaiser, I I am sorry if this action angers but I have reached the age of 67 and must now give my land to one heir of which i only have one.'

As i read this letter my father wrote to the kaiser, i couldn't help but feel sorry for him. His late insanity led him to execution and me to exile. I didn't hate him for this i knew he would mess up eventually and luckily i found my way to Grand Duchy, the land of my uncle Prince-Sovereign Istvan Aleksy. Istvan is a strange man and always seemed to have a grudge against the other nations. He didn't looked too surprised when i arrived and instead held a feast for my arrival as he was thankful some of his family lived. I asked him how life has been in this harsh land and found out he has been at war with the Ormelli. But then again he has the famed Winged Hussars with him thus granting him what i believe to be superiority in warfare. Anyways, after our feast he asked what i planned to do for my father's revenge; I said i had no plan which shocked him as our family was usually a well organized. He started questioning why i arrived if i didn't want an army to avenge my father's death, but as he questioned the idea of revenge grew on me.
"So be it! I will avenge my father and you will aid me, my lord!"
This shocked Istvan so much he fell of his chair and hid under the table. As soon as he recovered he stood up from under the table and with a strong voice.
"Good... Your training begins tomorrow."

After months of training under the eye of my uncle and his only foreign ally, Emperor Sigismund, I was finally ready to lead not just a battle against the Imperial State but against a the Lion Throne as well. To lead such an assault is a great honor and may be recorded in history if i am victorious. As the day dawned i was not just granted knighthood but also a lordhood and will be granted all the Imperial State if victorious.
Because of the Ormellis agreeing on a peace treaty with the Duchy, my army was able to go through their lands peacefully and gathered many an angry village wanting revenge against the Lion Throne. It seemed we amassed twenty-times more men than when we left from just traveling through this desert land. With an army now far beyond one-thousand we would surely take out both the Imperial State and Lion Throne. This feeling of victory was short lived as the Swadians betrayed us by killing our men in the night. Traitors the lot of them. Well luckily they only killed our pawns, now we let loose the knights. Every traitor was massacred by the Winged Hussars. The bodies were searched before burnt and we found that these were Lion Throne assassins who had captured the original Swadian force and replaced them, we now have a choice of either to save these Swadians or continue with our conquest. What should i do?


To be continued...
 
At the end of a fading day, a grim, battle-hardened Swadian commander looked over his men, stationed on the frontier to deal with Filaharnist incursions. It was harvest season and the men dearly wanted, yet Command insisted that they be at the front to deal with any Heretic incursions into the heartland of noble Swadia. He glanced over the bedraggled mix of veterans and recruits, old men and youths, all brought together to defend the fatherland - some more willing than others. The succulent aroma of roast meat wafted across the small stockade as the tough landsknechts grumbled in a corner of the camp, huddled around a small fire as the cold of the night started to set in,their pikes and zweihanders discarded on a weapons rack and their armour and puffy clothing left in their tents as the veterans sat in more comfortable shirts.

Far away from the grizzled servants of the country were the militia; the youths; the farmers called up to fight. They huddled around in fear of both the enemy and of their commanders; and too of the indomitable landsknechts that had served their land for years. Their cloth was new; hardly any armour was to be seen. All men wore padded cloth or jacks, or leather armour; the leather clean and the linen fresh. They would suffer the most casualties, of course, for they lacked training and proper equipment. In their arms were rusted swords last used in Swadia's heyday, bill-hooks and scythes, sharp and clean, acquired from farms by the state, which would inevitably go rusty and become crusted with blood. Pikes, also, along with crude firelocks as well as guns donated to the formerly-invincible Empire by the Obello States of Haelmar and the Imperial State - the young State would not see his brother fall, and veteran Union would want another enemy south of their nemesis, dominant Lauria.

Eventually, the small saplings would, should they survive, bloom into mighty oaks. In theory. It was obvious that their clean appearance would be lost over time; through battle, struggle and marching, as well as laziness. Some may even become mighty Doppelsoeldners one day, wielding mighty Ulm steel in gauntleted hands with a tough breastplate and feathered cap; but that may be so if Filly did not attack.

But everyone knew that Filly, that aggressive bastard, would attack, for Filaharn and Saldian, someday. Someday, with all his might, all his armoured men, all his auxilliaries and mercenaries, and the thunder-bringer, sky-crusher, instrument of doom, the Aurora Cannon, and Vienna would be swept away in a tide of blood, steel and fire.

Someday.
 
I humbly present a little story about some border-skirmish.

The stamping feets of a heavily armoured column shaked the earth. As the column aproached, nervous glanced were exanced within the waiting phalanx, as unexperienced landsknechts noted the dead gaze in the Filaharnists’ eyes: Brigadiers, with the feared Propugnators at the front.
Horst, the Doppelsoldner, looked at the left end of the first rank, where the captain was standing, Flamberge in his hands. The Swadian phalanx was deployed in three ranks, the first consisting of Doppelsöldner, the other two of Landsknechts. Now, the landsknechts braced their pikes through the gaps between the Doppelsöldner, presenting a wall of pikes.
“FILAHARN VULT!” Shouting their warcry, the Brigadiers charged head-on. No wonder, their numbers were twice as much as the Swadians. “Don’t worry, they bite, but they can die too” said the Swadian captain. He raised his Flamberge, and answered the Filaharnists’ warcry: “For god! For the Empire!”
The Propugnators collided with the Phalanx’ pikes, trying to fend them off with their shields. However, only a few of them got through the moving forest of iron tips, and the doppelsoldners had little difficulty cutting them down as those scattered fighters finally reached them. But soon, more Brigadiers made it through the pikes, and started fencing with the Doppelsöldner, who stubbornly hold their ground. Horsts’ armour absorbed several hits from broadswords, but he ignored them and, while turning to the left, he swung his Zweihander from his right, burrying the blade in a Propugnators’ body-armour. Although dying, the Propugnator raised his sword in a desperate attempt to take an infidel with him into death, but Horst raised his sword above his head, stopping the weak slash of the fanatic, who fell head-down on the ground, and was trampled by the Brigadiers behind him, who were still rushing forward. The Filaharnist formation began to fall apart into a cahotic mess as the rear ranks were pushing forward, and the front ranks were unable to move.
“Doppelsöldner, break formation. Charge!” Hearing his captains’ order, Horst stepped forward with the other Doppelsoldners, and charged the enemy between the landsknechts’ pikes. It was a more flexible way of fighting, while the Fillys were pinned into position by the pikes. The Swadian captain looked backwards over his shoulder, at the drummer who was standing behind him. “Sound the advance. Landsknechts, forward!” At the rythm of the drumming, the Landsknechts stepped forward, left foot first. The disciplined wall of pikes pushed back the front ranks of the Brigadiers, with the Doppelsoldners between the pikes acting as a solid shock-troop, who were using the longer reach of their Zweihanders to its full advantage against the Brigadiers who were fully occupied fencing off the pikes. As the pressure from the rear continued, some Brigadiers were pushed into the pikes before being trampled by their comrades. Some got past the moving and stabbing wall of pikes, only to face the pikes of the second rank of Landsknechts, and the Doppelsoldners. Still advancing steadily, the Phalanx began to cut a path into the mass of enemies.
 
At that moment, a number of Brigadiers on the flanks, pushed aside by the pressure from the front and the rear, began to flank the Phalanx, moving around its sides. Suddenly, the captain found himself surrounded by Brigadiers, and, seeing the danger, shouted some other orders. “Landsknechts hold your ground! Halt the advance! Gerdt…” He turned towards the drummer, who was cut down by a tall Brigadier. “Rotten-meisters to the flanks! Advance!” From behind the now stationary phalanx a handfull of veterans, ‘Rottenmeisters’ who kept order in the phalanx, emerged and joined the Doppelsoldners on the flanks. They were followed by some Camp Followers, who joined the soldiers swinging around wathever they could use as weapon.
Like the hand of the pope, the Filaharnists closed their grasp on the Phalanx, moving around the flanks, their only thought was to destroy the infidels still standing in their way. Suddenly, they heard a fast-swelling sound of hooves, and the next moment a group of cavalry crushed into the Brigadiers, impaling them on spears and knocking them down with battle-hammers. In one moment, the formerly eager mass of fanatics turned into a scattered mob, moving around aimlessly and trying to reach some cover against the cavalry, who were among them, in their midst, spreading them out and destroying whatever was left of their courage.
The Swadian captain lowered his Flamberge, and looked up to the approaching horseman. “By all the devils in their hell, I thought you only fought against forest bandids and poachers. What are you doing here?” The bastard Heron looked down from his saddle, smiling at the small man. “I simply couldn’t resist the opportunity. You were pinning them perfectly in place. As for the bandids, they can wait this time.” Some Border Reivers were chasing the remnants of the Brigadier column, while the rest of the Swadians began to loot the bodies. “I hope you won’t try to loot them with that silly beast beneath you?” Asked the captain.
 
The Clans of the Adriac, Part I​

The peoples of the eastern and southern Gulf of Adriac lived in clan based societies, with either a patriarch, or matriarch to lead the clan, called a Thane.  The leaders of the clans met each year in one of the villages, which was chosen by the Elder Shaman, the spiritual leader of all the clans.  At this meeting the leaders would discuss the years harvest, trading arrangements, and other assorted yearly events.  So for the most part, clan life was exceptionally peaceful, that is, until the Lion Throne arrived.

The Lion Throne descended on the southern most clans like shining wall of death, the scattered and for the most part harmless clans had little chance of defending themselves.  Each village was given a choice, convert, or be slaughtered.  The first three clans decided that they would string their longbows and gather their swords in attempts to defend themselves…needless to say, the next five chose the other option.

It wasn’t until the seventh clan, the clan of Gunter, which in the Clans language meant battle-army.  Led by their patriarch Thomas Gunter the Younger, called so due to his relatively young age for a patriarch.  The clan had sent scouts ahead to see what kind of enemy they would be facing.  The scouting parties had seen the devastation wrought by the Brigade against the first two clans, not staying to witness another annihilation they hurried back to their clan to warn of what was to come.  Thomas took his warriors and went out to meet the Brigade on an open field away from his village, a field his men had prepared for battle.

This detachment of the Brigade was led by predecessor of Zalera, the second Deva of the Lion Throne, Aurelius the Merciful as those of the Brigade called him, and Aurelius the Arrogant by those of the Clans.  He did just as Thomas’ scouts said he would, he met him in the middle of the field of battle with his personal bodyguard, and with only a small detachment of cavalry to support him, after all, he was only going to battle some poor peasant rabble, what could they possibly do against the might of the cavalry of the Holy Brigade.  Thomas met Aurelius with his advisor, Gwythyr, and his best friend and second, Madoc.  Aurelius then began to tell Thomas his options.

“Your men are to lay down their arms and pledge their lives in devotion to the almighty Filaharn, or you will all meet your ends here.”

“You had many o’ me countrymen burnt fo’ choosin’ ta live a separate way than ya.  How can ya begin ta call yaself merciful?”

“I had no choice, by not converting, they condemned their souls to the eternal abyss, I needed to purge the heresy from them with the holy flames of Filaharn.”

To this remark, Thomas coldly replied, “Ya burnt many o’ me people, so shall ye share their fate…”

Aurelius could only make out “Does this mean that you won’t be conver AAAAHHH!”

Part of the preparations Thomas’ men had laid out was oil.  Right in front of where Thomas stood he had oil poured all across the ground, which, according to his scouts, was exactly where the second Deva and his body guards would stand.  When Madoc gave a small hand gesture, Thomas’ six best longbowmen launched flaming arrows at the feet of Aurelius, causing him and his bodyguards to ignite into flames.

The fifty riders of the Brigade were stunned at the sight of their leader burning, making them hesitate in their charge, which gave Thomas, Gwythyr and Madoc time to quickly retreated back to their lines., In the normal circumstances, these riders would have easily taken down the one hundred and thirty Adriaci rabble that Thomas had brought to the field, so when they charged, they were expecting an easy victory.  Thomas had once again come prepared thanks to the great information provided to him by his scouts.

Once the cavalry were within fifteen feet of his men, Madoc gave the signal and all one hundred and thirty of the men raised ten foot pikes.  In three rows they stood, the first row had men kneeling down angling their pikes upward, the second row had men holding their pikes at waist level, straight out, and the back row held their pikes straight out over head.  The brigadiers road into a death trap.  Scarcely half a dozen remained after the charge, all of which were immediately introduced to a claymore to the skull.

His men then proceeded to return to the village to evacuate it to the next village north up the gulf.  He had sent scouts ahead already, with a proposal to the Elder Shaman, a proposal for an emergency Clan meeting, because war was something that could only be declared if every Thane wished it.
 
Have been working a lot so haven't been able to update this story, but here is part two.  Would love some criticism so I know where to improve for part three.

The Clans of the Adriac, Part II​

With the second Deva’s death, Thomas new that it was only a matter of time before his people and him were hunted down.  Such a high ranking officer would mean that the option of conversion would no longer be offered, his people would be exterminated.  He also new that he had been lucky in the last battle, lucky that the Deva’s arrogance drove him to only bring 50 soldiers, and lucky that his scouts had provided him with good enough information to anticipate the Deva’s actions.

The emergency meetings of the Clans would always take place in the home village of the Elder Shaman, which at the time was the village of the Clan Rhydderch, which was one of the larger villages based further north along the Gulf of Adriac, just southeast of Gunther-Piedmont.  The Thane of this clan was one of the eldest of the Adriacis, Bethan the Wise.

Thomas’ call for war was, in her view, a drastic one, and for most Thanes, they would rather take the word of the Wise, rather than the Younger, which made Thomas’ protests go unheard for the most part, but some of the other southern Clans, like the Clan of Gunter, were more inclined for war.  The destruction of some of the Clans heated the blood of others as well.

“War is the only option left Bethan!  They’ll march through ‘ere with entire regiments of soldiers, wipin’ our people from the face of the world!”

“We must seek peace wherever it may form.  We must search for the better nature of this Lion Throne and appeal to it, if any such nature is still there after your reckless decision of killing one of their leaders.”

“They’ve no such nature to begin with!  They slaughtered our people fo’ no reason!  Sometimes the only way to attain peace… is through war!”

“Young Thane of Gunter I will be damned before I let you lead our people down a road of destruction!”

“There’s no other option left… Just like a lion fighting for a mate, they’ll kill us, then kill our children, then breed their own to replace ours… We either fight them, or face extermination.”

Once the discussion was ended, a vote was put forth.  Nine voted for war, and four for peace.  Total war was out of the question as the vote wasn’t unanimous, but the Elder Shaman did give Thomas an opportunity to fight the advancing Brigade.

“Thomas, I can see something in you that I haven’t seen since the time of your father, but I cannot promise that the gods will smile upon war with these invaders from the south.  I will give you a chance to help the Clans though.  Tomorrow, all of the Clans will evacuate to the north, Thane Bran of Eynon has arranged for us to travel through Gunther-Piedmont to the Highlands with a promise of  his daughter’s hand  to one of the Lords their.  We will settle there until our homes have been deemed safe to return to…or never at all…”

“So where do I come in to this elder one?”

“You will take with you the warriors of your clan and any others who wish to follow you, and defend our evacuation.”

“As you wish elder one, who amongst ye would stand with me against the feline throne?”

“I, Dewey Cadwalader will fight with ya, somebody’s gotta watch yer arss.”

“Count Guto Meyrick in, haven’t ‘ad a good brawl in ages."


The clans of Cadwalader and Meyrick were two of the more war inclined clans, having trained warriors and preferring to settle disputes with duals instead of debates.  So with the two Thanes throwing their clans in with Thomas’, the Elder Shaman blessed them, and the gathering of the Clans ended.
 
The Rebirth of the Legions​

Syntagma Brutus,

I’m glad to hear that you are still alive and well, and not under the influence of the damned Lion Throne.  Most of the old military has been destroyed, with the small remnant converting from the true gods.  Ellis must be reclaimed under the rule of the Ellisians and the Ellisians alone.  I loved Nikephoros like a brother, but his fear of the Swadians drove him into forsaking our traditions, gods, and ultimately our Empire.  Some of the old legionaries still live in the central cities of the old Empire, such as Lerna, Abdera and Ellis.  Although Ellis is to heavily guarded, if we can secure either of the formers, then we may be able to recruit enough to support a full Legio.  I await your reply.

Your friend, Strategos Gregaros

Strategos Gregaros,

I have been able to secure travel in and out of the corrupter’s lands for myself.  I came into contact with Taxiarhos Ajax and Syntagma Marcus, and they have both gathered legionaries of the old Empire in Abdera to await our call.  I have also secured an alliance with the Imperials once this war begins, seeing as how they have no love for the Swadians or the fanatics.  I will be heading into Abdera later this week, and I will notify you of a plan once I have conformed with Ajax and Marcus again, and after I have left the corrupter’s lands; can’t afford for them to find out our communications.

Your loyal follower, Syntagma Brutus

Strategos Gregaros,

The Corrupters have left Culmarr Castle exposed.  We should start our attacks there.  We can use it as a fortified position to strike Abdera and Etrosq. Ajax and Marcus will be able to attack from inside the city while we breach the walls, which should make for a fast and easy victory.  I have arranged for the Swadians to send us knights, and the Imperialists to send us gunners, seeing as we have little cavalry and ranged infantry of our own.  The Ormeli Empire to the south is beginning to stir, I believe a war may soon erupt between them and these damned Fanatics.  Once we have Abdera and the Ormelis begin to encroach upon the southern border, we will be able to bring some of the less-loyal lords to our cause, and then we will finally be able to drive these Filaharnist bastards back to the south!  The legio will rise again!

Syntagma Brutus

Syntagma Brutus,

Well done my friend, you have me impressed.  We will confer on the Ides of March, and then march onward to Culmarr.  This is a new war however, and we must use drastic measures.  Old traditions not followed since the forming of the Empire must be implemented if we are to reform it.  Therefore, at the end of every battle, if any of those fanatics have surrendered, or fallen from fatigue, they are to be sacrificed to the gods.  This tradition may have been banned in the later days of the Empire due to its barbarity, but drastic times call for drastic measures.  And Brutus…I’m not looking for your approval in this matter, only your cooperation and loyalty.  After all, I’m appointing you Marshal of this campaign.

Strategos Gregaros

Gregaros,

You have my sword, from here unto the gates of hell.  The god of war will be showered with the blood of our enemies and the god of the underworld with their souls.  The corrupters will enter hell eyeless, tongue less, armless, and legless.

Your brother in arms, Brutus

Something I wrote because I've been playing an Ellisian rebellion.  Anyway I hope y'all like it.  Through in a couple of historical references for ****s and giggles.
 
Ah, Ellisian Revolution.

The idea popular among many an anti-Filaharnist.

Grey Brotherhood, that Ellisian contingent in the HSE...

Was planning on writing about an arson attempt sometime.
 
I started typing and this came out. A letter of sorts.


"Brother, I write to you as a concerned friend. How many times have we fought together?
Ever since the first war we have been side by side. Side by side, limb by limb. We have bled, way more than any common human can, only the grace of the Greater God has kept us in our feet. Now I cannot see you, but I hear from you, Sword and Fire surround you, you are the Eyes yet you are blinded by steel and flame. Do not let them consume you.
They have not seen what we have, they have not given everything like we did.
I spoke with the Holy Father before departing to Puranjay to fulfill my duties, I assured him of your success and reminded him of your devotion and loyalty. He seemed sincerely moved by my words. He asked about the welfare of your wife and children, I assured him of their devotion as well.
Farewell friend, may Filaharn grant us the joy of seeing each other again someday.

I am Amazagil, soldier of the faith, Fifth Deva of Filaharn, his Seed.
By his will I bring hope, faith and water where only hate, destruction and fire can be found. I am the last but also the closure of his act.
Without me there is no end to strife."
 
Feragorn said:
Who is this Fifth Deva?

New characters, hmm?

I'm pretty sure I defined the 5 devas a looong time ago.
Mondo-The Eyes (Strategy/Tactics)
Zalera-The Sword (Battle)
Elhaym-The Flame (Conquest)
(nonameyet)-The Cross (Conversion)
Amazagil-The Seed (Rebirth)

Doesn't mean that they are all in calradia.
 
Another Deva! So, are Elahym and Zalera more self-serving and less devout than Mondo and the oldies? That was always how I imagined them, although, I don't remember reading anything like that.
 
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