The Garden Pamphlet - Edition Three

[Imperial Administration 530]

The Garden Pamphlet

Edition 3

 

The Tale of Heinrich

1412

The Mireton Marksmen

Dressing the Orenian Woman

Matters of Abnormality

Posted Bounties

 

The Tale of Heinrich

 

This part of the newsletter seems to be torn out, removed entirely

 

1412

 

The morning dew was heavy. The previous night had brought a light rain that soaked and saturated the ground. The sky was grey and the air was cold, and the stillness of the world would receive no solace today. Off to the south, the faint drumming of a cadenced march was heard, piercing through the relaxing and peaceful sounds of nature, replacing it with a monotonous rhythm that tapped along slowly. The column rounded the bend and began to cross the bridge, and it was here that the banners were seen, all red and white, the famous rose emblazoned in the middle. The column entered Kralta and linked with the Carrion levy, the levies forming behind the Rose column and marching for the Dreadfort. Approaching from the east, the defenses were clearly seen: manholes, spike pits, ankle-biters, boiling oil, and terrifying catapults constructed atop the keep. The Rose-Carrion column was met with a silent greeting from the Dreadfort Infantry as they entered and took up their positions along the ramparts, besides their fellow allies. The King in the West, the Lord of the Dreadfort, and the Lord of the Crows met to discuss the strategy, and the overall command was given to King Peter Chivay, who quickly began to prepare for the coming assault. To the north lay Black Cross Bridge, and beyond it Castle Grewyn, the seat of the heretical and elitist Teutonic Order, an Order once disbanded, but reformed in defiance to the Empire. This same Order planned to assault the Dreadfort, but would quickly come to know that such a feat is not so easily accomplished.

 

It was midday when the first shouts of enemies was called. Across the bridge, the column of Teutonic crosses marched haphazardly forward, donning outrageously extravagant helmets of a particular winged nature, in an attempt to instill fear to the defenders, who wore a mix of Roses, red bandanas, and peasant clothing. The attempt backfired almost immediately, and the original Dreadfort Defenders began hurling insults at the coming force. Soon enough, the entire Dreadfort was alive with shouting, calling the Teuton every derogatory term that came to mind. Many played at the Teuton’s own mottos, shouting cries of “Never outgunned!” in a plain mocking fashion, making the attackers approach all the more embarrassing.

 

Even as the first salvoes of the Teutonic Ballistas struck the keep, the mocking persisted. In fact, the Blackmont and Carrion forces had jeered at the Teutonic forces throughout the entire battle, no doubt draining the attacker’s morale. The defenders did not only shout insults, though, and soon after the ballistas hit, the defenders took up their positions on their own siege engines, firing back in a disciplined and serious manner. The exchange of artillery continued for the better part of the afternoon, with the gruesome, fearsome, and awe-some ballistas battering the Dreadfort. The keep was beginning to buckle under the pressure of the siege, sections of the walls crumbled from the countless bolts hitting their mark.

 

The evening drew over the siege, the sun creeping behind the western expanses of Kaedrin, and the keep, although formidable still, had cracked and left considerable breaches for the Teutons to assault. Oddly enough, though, the Teutons never made an effort to attack. Gripped by either fear or indecisiveness, the Teutonic forces continued their siege, perhaps hoping for the keep itself to crumble on itself. But what plagued the Teutonic camp certainly did not plague the defenders; the King in the West was not one to sit idly by and wait to be buried by flagstones and timber. He made his decision, and using a sally port at the southern part of the keep, he lead the North Anthos Alliance out and into the forests, leaving a token force to disguise the King’s true plans. The Teutons, seeing the maneuver, grievously misinterpreted it, and saw it as a victory. Before even entering the keep itself, the attacking camp began launching fireworks in celebration, chanting their ungodly chants for all to hear.

 

...They were completely oblivious to the world around them.

 

The chants and cheers of the Teutonic force was quickly drowned out by the shouts and cries of the once-defenders, now on the attack. Swarming from the nearby treeline they attacked, Kaedreni, Carrion and Blackmont banners surging forward as they clashed into the celebrating Teutons. Caught completely off guard, the Teutonic force didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. The Hochmeister himself suffered a grievous wound during the flank, and within minutes the entire Teutonic force was fleeing in all directions. The King called to chase, and the routers were viciously cut down, the safety of Grewynn’s walls providing the only defense to the craven Teutons. The same fireworks the Teutons had fired were now launching into the air again, but by the true victors of the day. The mockery once again kicked up, coupled with the cheers of the victorious forces:

 

“White Rose, White Rose!”

“Crow Beats Cross!”

“**** the Teutons!”

 

A decisive defeat for the Teutonic Order, and one that would secure an end to the Blackmont-Teutonic war in favor of the North Anthos Alliance of Blackmont, Carrion and Chivay.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGLteEaPTgw

 

The Mireton Marksmen

 

The most recent but far from foreign conflict with the creatures known as “Orcs” has once again spurred Imperial military action. Frequent raids made by simple-minded Orcs have harassed the border towns of the Empire. Among one of the most affected settlements is the township of Vekaro, the seat of Grand Prince Boris Carrion of Raev. Absent of walls and built with whatever resources readily available, Vekaro has become a prime target for the preying greenskinned creature. The constant harassment has prompted full-scale retribution from the Exercitus, who have retaliated with an equally frequent amount of raids and blockades against the Orcish encampment. Among the official forces, a small band of Vekaro citizens have also taken up arms to combat the brutish and dumb beasts. The small band has repeatedly beaten back Orcish assaults, and their uncanny accuracy with crossbows have given them local fame in Vekaro. They have taken on the colloquial title of The Mireton Marksmen, and have even received praise by the Marshal himself for “doing their civic duty as a defender of the people and a guardian of Mankind.”  The Marksmen have recently established several “dens” or “nests” among the outskirts of Vekaro and have stood vigilant against many an Orc raid.

 

Most recently, the Dwarves of Urguan have even attempted to assault the calm and innocent inhabitants of Vekaro. These raids have prompted several more vigilante groups to rise out of the streets of the town. A most recent report details a small force known as the Doggers had repelled a Dwarven force far greater in number, suffering barely a casualty.

 

The current kill count of the Mireton Marksmen has been recorded in this article:

 

Orcs

Fourteen killed, five permanently maimed, nineteen wounded.

 

Dwarves

Five killed, one permanently maimed, eight wounded.

 

The Doggers of Romstun have also expressed their kill count to the Garden:

 

Dwarves

Fifteen killed, one permanently mained, two wounded.

 

Both the Mireton Marksmen and the Doggers of Romstun are excellent examples of Imperial vigilance, duty, guardianship and pride, defending the otherwise innocent denizens of Vekaro against evil and aggressive menaces that look only to plague and destroy the common man of the Empire.

 

Dressing the Orenian Woman

 

Above: Three Well-Dressed Women

 

The classic Orenian beauty has long, dark hair, soft skin, and sweet, intelligent eyes that speak of her humble manners and good breeding. She is as modest and lovely as a flower in spring, as quiet and tender as the warm summer rain, and as pure and chaste as fresh-fallen snow. It is a fact universally agreed upon that Orenian women are the most radiant women in the entire world. They were made in the image of the celestials. It is thus no wonder that Orenian men love and dote upon their wives more than any other  husbands on the planet.

 

A doting husband might find himself in a quandary, though. The sad fact is that many Orenian men simply do not understand the tenets of women's fashion. Everyone knows that the best gift for any woman is a new dress. However, too many men are at a loss for what to buy when shopping for their wives. Beautiful clothing serves to augment a woman's natural looks, thus making her even more lovely and appealing. But the wrong dress can turn the most virtuous woman into an object of mockery. If a husband, in spite of his best intentions, purchases the wrong dress for his wife, he might sully her honor and reduce her to a creature no better than an elf or an orc. It is a husband's duty to protect his wife from shame and ignominy, not inflict these things upon her. It is for this reason that most men leave matters of clothing in the hands of their wives. As a result, many women who ought to be dressing like goddesses only have one or two gowns. This writer calls for an end to such practices. Men should understand the design and purpose of women's gowns as well as they understand the design and purpose of battle armor.

 

I can sense some poor husbands panicking at this notion. They would sooner march into battle against the dread fiend himself than step into a dressmaker's boutique. But have no fear, husbands of Oren. I have prepared a guide to dressing your wives and daughters. Imagine the pleasure on your wife's face when you give her the perfect new addition to her wardrobe.

 

The first and primary rule of women's clothing is modesty. While you, as a husband, may enjoy your wife's naked form, you should not give other men the same pleasure. A woman's dress should elegantly conceal the contours of her body. Floor-length skirts and long sleeves are recommended. A woman should avoid showing her bare legs or bare shoulders. Trousers, which show the shape of the legs, are allowed only in special cases - such as while exercising or riding horses for sport. This rule, however, does not mean that women's dress must be sexless.  A woman is free to show off her neck and throat as well as a reasonable amount of cleavage, provided such displays remain tasteful and not trashy. The bodice of a woman's dress may cling to her curves without violating the rules of modesty. An enterprising husband will find ways to make his wife alluring without making her look cheap.

 

One must take care while selecting colors and fabrics as well. Women's clothing must strike a balance between ornamental and modest. Too much lace, too many bows, too much embroidery, or too many gems will serve to make a woman look too flashy and tacky. However, plain dresses with no interesting designs and no ornaments will make her appear dull and will take away from her natural loveliness. This writer advises high quality fabrics with bold, but simple patterns. As for colors, the color of a woman's gown should go nicely with her skin and hair. Soft blues and pinks are ideal for blondes, while bolder oranges, greens, and yellows might suit brunettes. Certain House colors, such as Horen purple or Chivay yellow, should only be worn by members of said house. Try to avoid such colors to prevent confusion and offense. Ribbons, lace, and embroidery should be kept to a tasteful minimum - enough to provide interest but not enough to distract. Jewelry should be subtle. A massive diamond or pounds of gold will take focus away from the woman herself and place it on her jewels instead. A man should wish for his wife to shine by herself, not with the aid of tons of jewels. Moreover, a woman should absolutely not wear a tiara or any manner of crown unless she is of royal descent. To wear a crown without royal blood is to spit upon the sanctity and authority of the Imperial household. It is presumptuous, tacky, and not at all charming. Headbands and hats, however, are allowed and encouraged. A charming hat can make a bold and compelling personal statement.

 

In summary, a woman should be modest but beautiful, bold without being tacky, and alluring without delving into harlotry. While these rules may seem complex, the ladies of Oren put them into practice daily. Let us then hope, with the publication of this guide, that no husband ever buys a terrible dress again.

 

Matters of Abnormality

 

3 men have gone missing whilst tending to the carrot and potato farms about the river’s edge in Kaldonia. Each of the men disappeared barely after dusk, evident struggle in the area, with bits of flesh, blood and clothing left as remnant.

 

Discussion with apparent witness has the man responsible for each incident as, “ 5’11”, very skinny and abnormally pale. The man wears severely worn clothing and each victim has been dragged into the river, not to be seen again.”

 

Why men are harvesting farms in the evening is beyond us.

---

Reports of large rats, standing upright and assaulting local farmers has been spread.

Shrugged off as drunken stupidity.

---

 

If you, as a citizen, have information on either of the above, report it to the guards of Kaldonia.

Genuinely relevant information will be rewarded.

 

Posted Bounties

 

A head of each will yield the following rewards:

Vodnik: 400 Minas

Harpy: 250 Minas (Uncharred)

Apparent Ratmen: 50 Minas

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

(at least it's not nazi propaganda this time, lol.)

 

A grizzled soldier rubs his growing beard as he reads the pamphlet, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

 

"Guess all the womenfolk will be wanting new dresses now. Too bad Aya's pregnant, maybe she'll continue her tailoring business when the child is delivered."

 

He then wonders why the **** he is monologuing to himself, and wanders off because people around him are giving him weird looks.

[Zerlina 15]

As Zerlina passed beneath the shadow of Hadrian's Gate in the hours closing in upon twilight, she took notice of a crowd gathered in the gardens aside the red cliffs. 

 

"The third edition of the Imperial Garden Pamphlet is in!" A child no more than ten shouted from a top one of the many benches in the park. He waved a series of thick folded parchments above his head, "Free by the grace of His Majesty!"

 

Her eyes lightened, and she dismounted the old pony she rode and led it by the reigns into the bustle of the crowd. There were all shapes of people within the conglomerate. Old and young, white and black. The rich reached toward the sky begging for a copy of the pamphlet just as the poor did; all were obsessed with learning from the words of the Imperial Government.

 

It took until the sun had set for the crowd to at last disperse from the park and gather around various light posts with their eyes transfixed on the pamphlet, eager to finish it so they would be up to date with gossip the next morning. Zerlina folded hers into her pocket while she rode into the inner city. There was frighteningly sparse amounts of literature within the city of Kaldonia for which she could indulge herself on. First she had started at the mundane histories within the Palace and when those had run dry she had settled to reading legal documents and books, and when Zerlina ran out of laws to read about she set to reading the tax ledgers in the Imperial Steward's office. The Garden Pamphlets had always been a satisfying literary change of pace.

 

When the old pony had at last been taken by the palace stable boy, Zerlina hurried herself to her chambers. The tasks of the day had been settled by the others in the serving staff. The floors had been scrubbed vigorously, the gardens had been trimmed and tended to, the meals had been cooked, served, and cleaned according to schedule, all of the sheets and blankets had been washed and folded and replaced; the matters of the palace had been attended to, and for that Zerlina was thankful.

 

She sparked one of the many candles in her chambers and began to spread the muted glow to each waxen spire. When at last she had finished, Zerlina set to the task of reading the pamphlet.

[Komodo 140]

Ioann reads his copy in his draft room, remembering the fireworks bursting in air, the worry the Kralta garrison felt for their brat'ya, and the sudden wave of celebrations when their kings and lords rode into the streets, raising their banners and reveling in the bloody tabards of the black cross they carried with them. Twas a good day.

 

"Ave Kaedrin, Carry on Carrion," he quietly mutters.

 

((Now that's the Rose I remember. +1 for all you fellows in the red, white and gold.))

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.