The Sword's Edge

[Altiak 1648]

The Sword's Edge

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NzlDUeS1U4&list=FL4fqHCZ7MZ_FEO53rJqeVQA&index=5

 

The Royal Chancery:

This following document was drafted by Publius Bracchus and Adrian de Bar on the 10th of The Deep Cold, 1504, to celebrate the devastating and heroic military successes of Adria. It was submitted to the Chancery for publishing, after its revision and assessment by Lord Guy de Bar, and issued upon the 17th of the Grand Harvest 1505.

 

Publius Bracchus and Adrian de Bar on ‘The Swords Edge’:

 

From battle, nations are born, and it is with the aid of our men and women that our nation yet grows.

 

 

We, as countrymen of Oren, should count ourselves as the most beneficent and inviolable beings alive in Athera; being able only to realize the benefits war in hindsight, as time and time again, we have done nothing but build ourselves to greater and greater heights through heated conflict. With the passing of each day, we see more and more competent men and women prove themselves to be worthy of the mantle of Humanity under such duress.

 

This ascent to legend and glory is largely made possible by the grand military might exhibited by the Duchy of Adria and her vassals, among them the houses Vladov, Dystov, Marna, Stafyr and Montfort.

 

 

With an adamantine martial tradition that outdates our Kingdom’s history itself, Adria has consistently produced fine soldiers and commanders in incredible quantities. Even before we united to punish the Schismatics for their heretical ways, the staunch and numerable Vladovic soldiers had seen naught but success on the field of battle; their ferocity and steadfastness proving to the Renatians their right as an independent holding.

 

The earliest forces of Vladovic hailed from the stout spires of Woldzmir, protecting the March of Adria in its efforts to unite the Heartland.

 

 

Boasting remarkable weaponry and armaments, these steely men and women of Raevir blood serve not only their Kingdom with finesse and talent, but with an immense pride. With a well-deserved reputation of devastating their foes, the elite retainers under House Vladov fight with a renowned vigor and enthusiasm that cements them as admired and dutiful soldiers.

 

The Duchy of Adria boasts a fascinating history of militarism, and the aspiration of becoming renowned warriors is deeply embedded in their culture. The Adrian men and women devote their lives to excelling in swordsmanship and commanding, and they carry out these tasks with natural talent and skill. With daunting experience so vast,  there is no one among those of the 1st Regiment that would be happy anywhere but on the front lines of battle, engaging and reveling in the heady sights of battle in the name of Oren.

 

The easiest way to identify an Adrian soldier would be by his gear. Some of history's finest weapons and armour has found its way into the hands and onto the backs of these tested warriors, testaments to their skill on the battlefield. If they do not sport the finest Ferrum plated armour, they are seen frequently wearing nigh-impenetrable, fearsome sets of Carbarum plate. It is suggested that some armor is so well crafted, that even the weight fails to restrict mobility, if only to explain how 1st Regiment soldiers can chase down even

the quickest footpad.

 

 

Undoubtedly, those men and women that have the ardent and fervent pride of addressing themselves as Adrians have proven their zeal in righteous, invaluable contribution to the military might of Oren. Adrian soldiers bolster our forces with strong, unfaltering loyalty, and they commit and dedicate themselves wholly to their craft: battle. This pure, unadulterated skill at arms is evidenced in a recent skirmish fought with the Dwarves by the Adrian troops, an accounting of which was recorded by Matthias de Lyon:

 

Rain drizzled onto the roughly lain cobblestone that patterned the short road,  running through cracks to converge into deep pools at the base of the short hill, large trees lining the sides that seemed to glint with the dying light. A pair of stout dwed had placed their feet into these large pools, rough iron boots covered in thick mud as they rested - exhausted after a short patrol. Trudging wearily through the mud, they were soon followed by a score more of their wretched brethren, the wicked Dwarven band beginning the laborious trek up the hill.

 

As they neared as close to a midpoint as they would find, a small outcrop of rock that jutted roughly from the hill-face, the harsh cry of a wolf filled the air; common in these mountains of Urguan. The baleful howl was echoed by a second baying cry, and in the distance a third echoed out in response. Uneasy, the patrolling stouts rested for a moment, their hands moving to their scabbards instinctively. Finding no threat at hand, and settling down for a moment, their stubby fingers roamed through packs, searching for loaves to chew on during their break.

 

And then there was a flash from the forest, and it seemed that the universe was alight with the din of battle.

 

A storm of steel swept from the trees, as a previously hidden warband of carbarum-plated warriors emerged with thunderous roars, their runic glowing axes and hammers slicing through the disarrayed Dwarven lines. At the forefront of this sudden engagement was Franz Vladov, clad in a shimmering set of Carbarum armour, sweeping through the ranks of his foes with ease. A Dwarven soldier raised his blade and swung it into the shoulder of an Adrian warfighter; the stricken man remained unflinching and, parrying with a mighty two handed blow, smote the dwed’s porcine head from his shoulders with fiery indignation.

 

After no more than ten seconds, the patrol was completely obliterated. The few surviving Dwarves were culled as the soldiers finished off their supine and wounded enemies with callous efficiency, and the frenzied cravens who chose to run were quickly chased down and felled. After picking the spoils of the desecrated patrol from their prone corpses, the warband - that notedly numbered less than half the size of the slaughtered Dwarves before them - receded into the trees with the blow of a Vladovic warhorn.

The fearless and superior Adrian marauders had lay waste to another Dwarven convoy of raiders, but they tarried not in the revelries of their decisive victory; there were always larger groups to assail, and the ruthless footmen of Adria set off through the treeline in search of their next quarry.

 

[Devland99 180]

Constantine nods approvingly as he reads

[Heff 2460]

Constable-Maer Brennen Roost files the article away in his library at Eastcliff.

[Ricky 321]

Edge

[Ark 2835]

Karl Barbanov gazes over the document, he nods firmly as he finishes. Tucking it under his map of the North. 

[_Stigwig 1510]

Matthias glances over his report, pleased with the way it had been set down and the piece drafted.

[Fireheart 2777]

Franz stands from his seat after reading over the document. He gives a thumbs up towards the document as he gives his nod of approval and dances around him room in joy.

((Great job, I love the small jokes within the post.

[Porko 397]

Evios smiles with pride.

[Pureimp10 5691]

Ronald would read the document while casually resting at his bunk in Karovia. He'd smirk as he reads about the Adrian victory over the dwarves, and quietly mumble to himself, "Outnumbered, but never outmatched.", a phrase he learned from his friends in Amyas. He'd quietly sip from his ale, feeling as proud as ever to be an Orenian.

[Dohvi 622]

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