Following on, a man from Curon attempted to save him, only to be too late. As he approaches he sees the head of the Haenseman roll along the path, cut off by the blade of Swifty Sam. The two men turn to look straight at the Curon civilian, charging him with the company of two other horsemen who were called to arms. One of the horsemen rammed into the Curon man from behind with his steed, knocking the pig into the dirt. They all stood, laughing at this man, however Swifty dived on top of him, tying his arms behind his back and putting a cloth bag over his head to silence the man. He was further arrested, kept in a cage at Rubern to await his fate. He was sentenced to death by the mighty Flemius of Rubern after a long negotiation, finalising in the men and women of the AIS having no need for such scum.

Swifty cheered out, “Hail Ruswick!” As the shot was fired from the string Flemius gripped, greeted with gratifications for his hard work, he had proven himself of worth.

Signed,

Swifty Sam, Council of Ruswick, Slayer of Tyrants and Collector of Heads.

The men and women of Ruswick gathered at the foot of the tower, the entrance of the grand bandit nation to witness the beheading of Lauriel Labdacus. Lauriel attempted to escape with her prized possessions, predicting the end of her reign as the citizens formed together in the throne room. However, the Citizens of Rus halted her in her path. Knowing that she was a gruesome tyrant who once ruled the lands in fear. Without hesitation, Lauriel thrusted her sword into her gut, knowing the outcome of such an event, attempting to end her life. In that moment, Swifty Sam darted at her, sword drawn and action taken. As he lifted up his sword, the sound of civilians gasping in awe to see the tyrant’s head roll onto the shiny floor. Swifty Sam separated her head from her torso with one mighty, and swiftly swing. Her life and reign, coming to a certain end, “The End of a Tyrant”.

Signed,

Agner, Appointed Ruler of Ruswick

Swifty Sam, Be-header of Tyrants, Council member of Ruswick

Jubilant Jack, Scribe of Ruswick

Mark Ezelsteen, Council Member of Ruswick

https://youtu.be/fJSkr5Up2MY

The Tavern Charge

14th of the Grand Harvest, 1737

The men of Ruswick search the forest for stragglers, 1737

A day would not go by without blood being shed on the badlands. The small hamlet would see more than its fair share of battle—and this day was no different. One report would send the men preparing in the tavern. Hannibal would stand on the walls, and a kind passerby had relayed the location of a Haelun’orian war party; a mounted scout sent by Hannibal tracked their movements. In an act no short of genius, he had hidden the men inside the tavern, to wait for Hannibal’s call to charge. Soon thereafter, the banners of the Silver State hung in the air, whilst Hannibal alone opposed the seventeen strong host from the walls. 

The elves came in disarray, a perfect situation for Hannibal. As they fired upon him, he jumped behind the wall and began banging on his shield. Upon hearing the signal, the mighty host of seventeen charged forth from the tavern, and Hannibal would immediately open the gate, letting loose the horde of eager men unto the roads. Taken by utter surprise, they had perceived the Ruswickian force of seventeen to be much larger, as the Haelun’orians melted underneath the charge. Many of the elves had ran in fear without even a swing of their sword. 

The men of Ruswick would regroup within the city, unknowing that Dante of House Rük was single handedly fighting off a force of regrouped high elves. Realizing that one of their own was not with them, they immediately marched down the road in search of their man. But as they came into view, the band of high elves were kept at bay by only Dante. However, much like earlier, they would run upon seeing the charging men. Despite their best efforts, the steps of the silver city had been stained with red. One even fled behind doors, but a few Ruswickians were hot on their heels and summarily executed them in a few seconds short of their freedom.

The Big Dogs are Back

“A slaughter of fools…” comments Ralf Brawm to his father Geordie as he witnesses the carnage.

The roads were devoid of life; the fear of death overpowering the Orenians’ duty to protect their land. The men of Ruswick were to blame for this, as they had been slaughtering the Orenian thralls in an operation, dubbed “Eland”,  keeping the roads safe for their citizens. Hadrian Labdacus, the young son of Austin Labdacus, had noticed much activity within the capital of Helena, and had taken notice of the large amount of soldiers gathering. Under his father’s absence, he had began a ruthless campaign into the Imperial Heartlands. He quickly notified the men of Ruswick, and so the houses convened: Brawm, Labdacus, and Ruk. As the men gathered at the end of the bridge leading into Helena, a lone Ruk approached the rabid Orenians and began taunting them, japing of wingless dragons writhing in the dirt beneath his boots. For the great Ruk man knew that the underdeveloped Orenians would grow angry from the relentless insults and charge out to meet the Rusmen in combat. As expected, the Orenians sallied out in rage and surrounded the young Ruk. Geordie and Bron called upon their men and charged the serfs who had been harassing the young Ruk man under the guise of an empire. 

The great Rusmen under the command of Geordie Brawm and his son Ralf, confronting the Orenian dogs

The men of Ruswick were outnumbered over two to one. They clashed arms in a stalemate on the bridge of Helena, taking potshots at each other. Amidst the fierce engagement, the wingless Emperor was knocked into the surrounding water by a squire of House Labdacus, drowning in the moat meant to protect his city. The squire buried his sword into a soldier’s neck, after he cut another’s hand off and split a third’s skull open. Geordie roared his orders across the bridge and roads, his colossal build standing out in the crowds of Rusmen. During a tactical retreat, Bron and Hadrian Labdacus were cut off from Geordie’s retinue as a result of an Orenian flank. In their escape, they led several foolish Orenians toward the moat, and they suffered the same fate as their Emperor: being brutally cut down in the murky waters of the unkempt Orenian moat. With some room to breathe, Geordie’s forces managed to push the Orenian thralls back towards their capital, claiming several lives in the process.

The boy Emperor drowned in his moat.

With time to spare, Bron and Hadrian made their way back. In a previous skirmish with Oren, Geordie and Bron had marked down the location of a bridge to be used as a choke point to funnel the crowds of Orenians. This was the time to use it, they decided. Seeing the Orenians getting anxious and overzealous, the men of Ruswick led them towards the bridge, slowly allowing them to gain ground. To any other foe this might seem quite obvious, but as mentioned before, the brain of the average Orenian thrall is not fully developed - around the 10th percentile of all Descendants, including Orcs and Ologs. Once at the bridge, the Rusmen set up a strong line of defence across the bridge and the Orenians charged it in futility, over and over, only to be swiftly pushed back and defeated - first by Geordie’s ferocious charge who, with his steel, cruelly cut down numerous Orenians, followed by volleys of arrows by Bron and his men. Soon to be followed by a swift slaughter by the Ruswick reserves, Bron charged in, finishing off many wounded Orenian dogs. Carnage ensued, and the weak Orenian retinue, their Emperor and all, was quickly dissolved by the company of Rhusmen. A hundred or so corpses sat on the Red King’s Road, decomposing. A lone Orenian survived the slaughter, allowed to leave by the Rusmen to spread tales of their bravery and to recruit others in their fight against the Orenian “men”.

Bron Labdacus, the Red King, post-victory.