The Die Is Cast - The Triumvirate Begins

[calculusdesola 1658]

"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."

 

 

"Forward across the river, comrades!  Unto the gates!"

--

Reports from the capital of the Imperium indicate that Vibius Hanseticus, of the House de Sola, and Grandmaster Richard de Bar of the Knights Lorraine, have marched with their combined knightly legions, entered the imperial capital of Petrus and ousted the Chivay administration, securing the city with their resolve.  

 

Hanseticus is reported to have said, upon crossing the Petrian moat, "The die is cast," by one of the body guards at his side.  A stern, resilient expression was supposedly upon Hanseticus' face.  The term was repeated several more times in chant, in an honorific fashion, by a number of Hanseticus' soldiers during the entry into Petrus.

 

Morale was high during this endeavor, and the city was swiftly taken.  Loyalists or those opposing the newly-proclaimed Imperial Caesar de Sola and the Grandmaster de Bar, with the exception of those resisting actively with violence, were allowed to leave the city unharmed.

 

The Empire stands strong still, and Hanseticus sits as its regent until a successor is named.  The die has been cast, and the City of the World's Desire liberated.

 

--

 

((just rp!!! i love u all

[Roggvir 315]

"God wills it."

[Norman 492]

Ser Sascha gives a stoic nod from skygod prison.

 

"Martyr me. DEPLOY IT."

[Redbaron™ 690]

Rowan stands in the palace of Oren, readying to defend any more assassination attempts on Hanseticus 

[Islam 145]

"Ave Hansetius, Ave Orenia in which you have redeemed from the Chivay's!"

[D A N N Y 966]

Siegfried LaValètte is absent.

[Fid 566]

Durion plots!

[Snoop 365]

David Campos paces back and forth within the palace in front of a small squad of Totenkopf soldiers as they prepared to take on guard duty of the palace.

 

"Stand vigilant and faithful, this is only the beginning. Ave Orenia."

 

A clenched fist would hit his shoulder and extend outwards as he faced the throne and saluted. His men following in unison before right-facing and marching off to take over guard positions.

[Haribo 385]

An aged man remembers when the Lucienists and the Decterum did the same exact thing.

[HappyShackles 886]

The young orcish Warboss mutters to himself, clenching his fingers into an anticipating fist.

"Mi gruk... Whu weel da Totoz mayk deir Rex? Mi gruk id zhud bi azh wurthi enemi.

Ur mebbeh azh hunurabul bruddah, eurhur."

[Imam Faiz Kharadeen 3167]

"It was only a matter of time. Oh well, time to kill oath breakers."

[MajesticOwyn 334]

 

Morvan sat posed around his camp fire, a small grin creeping onto his face as he worked the whetstone over his bearded axe. The frosted cold in the north nipped at his cheeks and seeped into his bones, but he did not mind. Soon the itch for battle that spread through his spine would be sated, his axe bathed in blood.

 

He kicked at some dirt as he rose, hefting his large Gorundyr shield up to chest level. With a slow, dull, rhythmic tap, he began to beat the back end of the bearded axe on the shields metal bosse. His pace quickened as he stepped about, looking each of his brothers and sisters in the eye. 

 

A constant roar of cheering could be heard in the valley that night, for the Men of the Northwood were preparing for battle.

[Praetor 1550]

 

 

Ensign Al'shayat lies in a small room in the palace, trying to catch some sleep before the inevitable battles to come. He tosses and turns throughout the night. His helmet was too hard of a pillow, the floor to solid for comfort. He sat up and rested his head in his hands. It was nothing but passing guilt he told himself. He had done what was right, to preserve the Empire, for the greater good.

 

With a groan he rose from his improvised bed and stretched slowly, his bones creaking. He was getting to old for this. The palace echoed with voices from the throne room, sometimes rising to shouts and protests. Picking up his gleaming saber Al'shayat marcheds down to the lower level. 

 

He had made his choice, now his life hung in the balance.

[Snake Plissken 637]

 

Vulpes Roke watches the 48th Regiment collapse. One by one his men leave, choosing different paths, conflicting paths with different leaders and soldiers in each. Some leave not because there's a path they'd rather take, but simply because they feel inclined to do the same as others before them. In the end, the Decurion is left sitting alone in his tent at Fort Angren, drawing in smoke from the ivory pipe protruding from the corner of his mouth. Eventually he finds it within himself to get to his feet and walk over to his desk, gathering up the documents laid out on it's top.

 

He paces back across the tent to the furnace in it's center, heat radiating from the stone as fire rages within. Roke slides open the hatch in the side of the furnace and takes a seat, placing each individual piece of parchment into the hole, one by one, the material being incinerated almost instantly as it passes inside. Finally he closes the hatch back up and gets to his feet, dusting his hands on his Imperial Brigade coat. He takes a moment to stand and look out of the tent's mouth, Fort Angren towering before him and the great wilderness of the North spanning out beyond.

 

With a sigh, the Decurion walks to the back of the tent and opens the Regimental Supply Crate from the Fringe. He retrieves from it his crossbow, quiver of bolts, his bastard sword, falchion, dirk, and the golden, dragon-engraved pocket-watch given to him by Emperor Godfrey. After gearing up, he too leaves the tent like the soldiers before him, crossing the bridge from Angren and walking the road back to Petrus. Perhaps de Sola would find some use for him yet.

[Endovelicus 614]

Ave Humanity, Ave Oren.God wills it!