Welcome, fellow warriors and adventurers!
As someone who is immensely passionate about literature, writing stories and learning about history, I want to dedicate this thread to those who truly immerse themselves in the world of Bannerlord and the team of Taleworlds themselves. Whether you're a noble lord carving out your own kingdom, a ruthless mercenary seeking fortune, or a wandering knight with a tale of honor and betrayal, this is the place to share your journey.
Tell us about your character’s background, where did they come from? What drives them? Have they risen to power through diplomacy and strategy, or do they leave a trail of destruction in their wake? Every battle, every alliance, every hard earned victory or crushing defeat adds to the legend of your campaign.
Feel free to write your stories in any style, short summaries, detailed narratives, journal entries, or even creative storytelling. Screenshots and videos are also welcome to bring your adventures to life. Also, feel free to edit your post whenever the story of your character evolves.
This thread is for the true Bannerlord enthusiasts, those who appreciate the game and the countless stories it allows us to create. Let's show Taleworlds who the true fans of this franchise are and how much we appreciate the world of Calradia.
Here is the story of my latest character, as an example of what can be shared in this thread.
The tale of Xephaeston: From Grieving Drunkard to Emperor
A new purpose
Beneath the golden sun of southern Calradia, where the rolling fields of Parasemnos stretched between the mighty cities of Onira and Danustica, a young man named Xephaeston lived in the shadow of his past. His family had once been prosperous landowners, tilling the rich soil and trading grain with merchants who passed through the Imperial countryside. But fortune had abandoned him in his youth, ripped away in a single night of blood and ruin.
He could still remember the flickering torchlight of the tavern, the air thick with ale and sweat. His father had been laughing with friends, his mother bartering with a merchant for silk, when the doors had burst open. A band of brigands, clad in ragged leathers, stormed inside like wolves descending upon a wounded deer. What followed was chaos, shouts, the clashing of steel, and then silence. When it was over, his parents lay among the dead.
Xephaeston had hunted them down, one by one. His blade found every last man who had taken part in the slaughter, but vengeance brought no solace. The thrill of retribution faded, leaving him adrift, hollowed out by grief. With no purpose to guide him, he turned to the bottle, drowning his thoughts in cheap wine, hoping that with enough drink, he might silence the dark thoughts of the past.
But fate had other plans.
One morning, as he staggered through the village of Parasemnos, nursing a dull headache, he heard a desperate voice rise above the murmur of the marketplace. The village elder, a stooped man with a weathered face, stood before a gathering of farmers and traders, his voice trembling with urgency.
“The Southern Empire calls for soldiers!” he cried. “Empress Rhagaea raises her banners at Danustica! The war drums sound against the Aserai Sultanate. Calradia is on the brink of bloodshed once more! Any man with a strong arm is needed, for glory, for coin, and for the defense of our lands!”
Xephaeston felt a strange pull in his chest. War. It was a cruel mistress, but at least it promised something that vengeance could not... a cause. The Aserai, fierce desert warriors of the south, threatened the Empire’s borders, and Rhagaea was gathering an army in Danustica, not far from Parasemnos, the village where his sorrows had begun.
As the villagers murmured amongst themselves, weighing the dangers of war against the hunger in their bellies, Xephaeston clenched his fists. Perhaps in the ranks of the Imperial legions, he would find something worth fighting for. Perhaps, in the din of battle, he could finally silence the ghosts of his past.
With a final glance at the fields of Parasemnos, the land he had inherited but never truly lived for, he made his decision. Danustica awaited.
The journey to Danustica
The road to Danustica was long and unforgiving, a winding trail through the harsh terrain of the southern Empire. Danustica, nestled away from the coast and far from the sea, was a crucial military hub. It lay on the Imperial plains, strategically positioned near the south-eastern border, where the looming threat of the Aserai Sultanate cast its shadow over the Empire. Though distant from the shores, the city buzzed with activity. Soldiers, mercenaries, and traders preparing for the inevitable war that would soon erupt.
Xephaeston’s mind raced as he made his way toward the gates of the city, his horse’s hooves kicking up clouds of dust in the dry air. His parents were gone, their deaths in the hands of a band of ruthless bandits still weighing heavily on his heart. Now, he sought something else. An opportunity to fill the void left by vengeance, a cause to give his life direction.
He had heard of the Empress Rhagaea’s call for soldiers, but Xephaeston was no naive footsoldier. He had no intention of becoming another nameless soldier in the endless march to war. Instead, he sought to fight as a mercenary, but not leading other mercenaries. His choice was to command Imperial soldiers, men who though bound by the Empire, possessed discipline and battle-readiness that most mercenaries lacked. He was willing to pay the price for their loyalty with his own skill as a commander, hoping that in the thick of war, he could prove himself more than a man seeking vengeance.
An Audience with the Empress
Inside the governor’s palace, the atmosphere was one of cold efficiency, filled with soldiers, advisers, and officials all preparing for the inevitable clash with the Aserai. Empress Rhagaea herself sat at the head of a vast marble table, her gaze sharp and calculating as Xephaeston entered the room. Her regal presence filled the chamber, and she was flanked by seasoned commanders who had witnessed countless battles.
Xephaeston stepped forward, his posture unwavering as he faced the Empress. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice calm but firm, "I want to fight for the Empire, not as just another foot soldier, but as a commander. I want to lead Imperial soldiers, not to blend in with the rest, but to guide them as their superior. My goal is to use my skills as a leader to strengthen your army, not by joining mercenaries, but by commanding men who truly understand the art of war."
Rhagaea’s gaze lingered on him, measuring, weighing. She said nothing for a long moment, but then glanced to her right, where Archon Pharon stood watching with a skeptical expression.
"Mercenaries," Pharon muttered under his breath. "We have many of them flooding the city. What makes this one different from the others?"
Rhagaea’s eyes never left Xephaeston. "His thirst for battle is not for coin, Archon," she said softly, yet with undeniable authority. "He has been forged in vengeance, and in that, I see something I can use." She looked back at Xephaeston. "You wish to lead men in battle, but not the typical band of mercenaries. You want Imperial soldiers, men who have been forged by our training, our discipline. Do you understand the weight of what you ask? To lead men who answer not to coin, but to the Empire itself?"
Xephaeston nodded firmly. "I do. I believe that Imperial soldiers are more battle-ready than any mercenary band. They fight not only for the gold, but for their country, their homes."
Rhagaea studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well. You will be given a company of Imperial soldiers to command, men who are loyal to the Empire, trained for war. You will not be one of the noble Archons who command the legions, but you will have the opportunity to prove yourself."
Xephaeston bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you."
The Road to War
Xephaeston’s new title came with great responsibility. He was now a mercenary, a low tier commander in the service of the Southern Empire, though not granted the prestige of a noble rank. His company, a mix of seasoned Imperial soldiers, were a far cry from the undisciplined mercenaries who fought for gold. These men were battle-hardened, disciplined, and ready for war. They had the fire of the Empire in their hearts and the will to fight for their lands. Xephaeston knew this would be his chance to prove himself, a chance to show that he could lead them to victory and bring order to the chaos of war.
With his company at his side, he led them south, through the sweltering heat of the Imperial plains toward the border with the Aserai Sultanate. The sun beat down relentlessly, but the men marched on, unbroken. Xephaeston was not the type to sit back and let others lead, he rode at the front, his presence commanding respect, his eyes ever watchful of the men he now commanded. They were his responsibility.
At the Aserai border, the first signs of war began to appear. Skirmishes had already begun, and the tension between the Southern Empire and the Aserai Sultanate was tangible. Xephaeston knew that the real battles would soon unfold. For the first time in years, the purpose he had been seeking seemed within reach. His company of soldiers, Imperial men who had sworn their loyalty not to gold, but to their land, was his to lead, and he would fight beside them with the same ferocity he had once reserved for vengeance.
As the Southern Imperial army gathered in anticipation of the coming conflict, Xephaeston stood at the edge of the camp, his thoughts heavy with the weight of the future. The war against the Aserai would be hard, and many would fall. But Xephaeston was no longer a man driven by vengeance alone. He was a leader, and he had the chance to write his own legacy. The sands of the desert would soon run red, and the first battle would decide not just the fate of the Empire, but his own path forward. Would he rise to the challenge, or would he fall like so many before him? Only time would tell.
This is all for now. More will come in the future as my character progresses in the game. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far.
As mentioned before, please share your stories. I'm curious to see what you all come up with!
As someone who is immensely passionate about literature, writing stories and learning about history, I want to dedicate this thread to those who truly immerse themselves in the world of Bannerlord and the team of Taleworlds themselves. Whether you're a noble lord carving out your own kingdom, a ruthless mercenary seeking fortune, or a wandering knight with a tale of honor and betrayal, this is the place to share your journey.
Tell us about your character’s background, where did they come from? What drives them? Have they risen to power through diplomacy and strategy, or do they leave a trail of destruction in their wake? Every battle, every alliance, every hard earned victory or crushing defeat adds to the legend of your campaign.
Feel free to write your stories in any style, short summaries, detailed narratives, journal entries, or even creative storytelling. Screenshots and videos are also welcome to bring your adventures to life. Also, feel free to edit your post whenever the story of your character evolves.
This thread is for the true Bannerlord enthusiasts, those who appreciate the game and the countless stories it allows us to create. Let's show Taleworlds who the true fans of this franchise are and how much we appreciate the world of Calradia.
Here is the story of my latest character, as an example of what can be shared in this thread.
The tale of Xephaeston: From Grieving Drunkard to Emperor
A new purpose
Beneath the golden sun of southern Calradia, where the rolling fields of Parasemnos stretched between the mighty cities of Onira and Danustica, a young man named Xephaeston lived in the shadow of his past. His family had once been prosperous landowners, tilling the rich soil and trading grain with merchants who passed through the Imperial countryside. But fortune had abandoned him in his youth, ripped away in a single night of blood and ruin.
He could still remember the flickering torchlight of the tavern, the air thick with ale and sweat. His father had been laughing with friends, his mother bartering with a merchant for silk, when the doors had burst open. A band of brigands, clad in ragged leathers, stormed inside like wolves descending upon a wounded deer. What followed was chaos, shouts, the clashing of steel, and then silence. When it was over, his parents lay among the dead.
Xephaeston had hunted them down, one by one. His blade found every last man who had taken part in the slaughter, but vengeance brought no solace. The thrill of retribution faded, leaving him adrift, hollowed out by grief. With no purpose to guide him, he turned to the bottle, drowning his thoughts in cheap wine, hoping that with enough drink, he might silence the dark thoughts of the past.
But fate had other plans.
One morning, as he staggered through the village of Parasemnos, nursing a dull headache, he heard a desperate voice rise above the murmur of the marketplace. The village elder, a stooped man with a weathered face, stood before a gathering of farmers and traders, his voice trembling with urgency.
“The Southern Empire calls for soldiers!” he cried. “Empress Rhagaea raises her banners at Danustica! The war drums sound against the Aserai Sultanate. Calradia is on the brink of bloodshed once more! Any man with a strong arm is needed, for glory, for coin, and for the defense of our lands!”
Xephaeston felt a strange pull in his chest. War. It was a cruel mistress, but at least it promised something that vengeance could not... a cause. The Aserai, fierce desert warriors of the south, threatened the Empire’s borders, and Rhagaea was gathering an army in Danustica, not far from Parasemnos, the village where his sorrows had begun.
As the villagers murmured amongst themselves, weighing the dangers of war against the hunger in their bellies, Xephaeston clenched his fists. Perhaps in the ranks of the Imperial legions, he would find something worth fighting for. Perhaps, in the din of battle, he could finally silence the ghosts of his past.
With a final glance at the fields of Parasemnos, the land he had inherited but never truly lived for, he made his decision. Danustica awaited.
The journey to Danustica
The road to Danustica was long and unforgiving, a winding trail through the harsh terrain of the southern Empire. Danustica, nestled away from the coast and far from the sea, was a crucial military hub. It lay on the Imperial plains, strategically positioned near the south-eastern border, where the looming threat of the Aserai Sultanate cast its shadow over the Empire. Though distant from the shores, the city buzzed with activity. Soldiers, mercenaries, and traders preparing for the inevitable war that would soon erupt.
Xephaeston’s mind raced as he made his way toward the gates of the city, his horse’s hooves kicking up clouds of dust in the dry air. His parents were gone, their deaths in the hands of a band of ruthless bandits still weighing heavily on his heart. Now, he sought something else. An opportunity to fill the void left by vengeance, a cause to give his life direction.
He had heard of the Empress Rhagaea’s call for soldiers, but Xephaeston was no naive footsoldier. He had no intention of becoming another nameless soldier in the endless march to war. Instead, he sought to fight as a mercenary, but not leading other mercenaries. His choice was to command Imperial soldiers, men who though bound by the Empire, possessed discipline and battle-readiness that most mercenaries lacked. He was willing to pay the price for their loyalty with his own skill as a commander, hoping that in the thick of war, he could prove himself more than a man seeking vengeance.
An Audience with the Empress
Inside the governor’s palace, the atmosphere was one of cold efficiency, filled with soldiers, advisers, and officials all preparing for the inevitable clash with the Aserai. Empress Rhagaea herself sat at the head of a vast marble table, her gaze sharp and calculating as Xephaeston entered the room. Her regal presence filled the chamber, and she was flanked by seasoned commanders who had witnessed countless battles.
Xephaeston stepped forward, his posture unwavering as he faced the Empress. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice calm but firm, "I want to fight for the Empire, not as just another foot soldier, but as a commander. I want to lead Imperial soldiers, not to blend in with the rest, but to guide them as their superior. My goal is to use my skills as a leader to strengthen your army, not by joining mercenaries, but by commanding men who truly understand the art of war."
Rhagaea’s gaze lingered on him, measuring, weighing. She said nothing for a long moment, but then glanced to her right, where Archon Pharon stood watching with a skeptical expression.
"Mercenaries," Pharon muttered under his breath. "We have many of them flooding the city. What makes this one different from the others?"
Rhagaea’s eyes never left Xephaeston. "His thirst for battle is not for coin, Archon," she said softly, yet with undeniable authority. "He has been forged in vengeance, and in that, I see something I can use." She looked back at Xephaeston. "You wish to lead men in battle, but not the typical band of mercenaries. You want Imperial soldiers, men who have been forged by our training, our discipline. Do you understand the weight of what you ask? To lead men who answer not to coin, but to the Empire itself?"
Xephaeston nodded firmly. "I do. I believe that Imperial soldiers are more battle-ready than any mercenary band. They fight not only for the gold, but for their country, their homes."
Rhagaea studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well. You will be given a company of Imperial soldiers to command, men who are loyal to the Empire, trained for war. You will not be one of the noble Archons who command the legions, but you will have the opportunity to prove yourself."
Xephaeston bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you."
The Road to War
Xephaeston’s new title came with great responsibility. He was now a mercenary, a low tier commander in the service of the Southern Empire, though not granted the prestige of a noble rank. His company, a mix of seasoned Imperial soldiers, were a far cry from the undisciplined mercenaries who fought for gold. These men were battle-hardened, disciplined, and ready for war. They had the fire of the Empire in their hearts and the will to fight for their lands. Xephaeston knew this would be his chance to prove himself, a chance to show that he could lead them to victory and bring order to the chaos of war.
With his company at his side, he led them south, through the sweltering heat of the Imperial plains toward the border with the Aserai Sultanate. The sun beat down relentlessly, but the men marched on, unbroken. Xephaeston was not the type to sit back and let others lead, he rode at the front, his presence commanding respect, his eyes ever watchful of the men he now commanded. They were his responsibility.
At the Aserai border, the first signs of war began to appear. Skirmishes had already begun, and the tension between the Southern Empire and the Aserai Sultanate was tangible. Xephaeston knew that the real battles would soon unfold. For the first time in years, the purpose he had been seeking seemed within reach. His company of soldiers, Imperial men who had sworn their loyalty not to gold, but to their land, was his to lead, and he would fight beside them with the same ferocity he had once reserved for vengeance.
As the Southern Imperial army gathered in anticipation of the coming conflict, Xephaeston stood at the edge of the camp, his thoughts heavy with the weight of the future. The war against the Aserai would be hard, and many would fall. But Xephaeston was no longer a man driven by vengeance alone. He was a leader, and he had the chance to write his own legacy. The sands of the desert would soon run red, and the first battle would decide not just the fate of the Empire, but his own path forward. Would he rise to the challenge, or would he fall like so many before him? Only time would tell.
This is all for now. More will come in the future as my character progresses in the game. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far.
As mentioned before, please share your stories. I'm curious to see what you all come up with!
