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The Winds of War


Hedonism

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The Winds of War: Soldier’s Journal

 

These lands are lived.


The grounds are soft, familiar, and running rich with the rain of the marsh. As I write, I see the soft glow of cities and villages yonder; it is warm and alive, though I know this land loves me not. Atop the mount of Gladewynn, nature is all the eye’s treasure. Made almost to seem that there is no civilization. No empires, or kingdoms. Only the old woods and wildlands beyond.

 

How wrong that was. The air is full with the cries of a million men. We’ve ventured into lands thick of legacy, woe, revenge, and dominion. This, a country that breathes the story of Man - and the earth aneath long forgotten. 
When the standards were risen, my heart stirred with an oddity. I had last answered the call at the summons of my King - to defend a land I now resent. When we had last seen the purple and black banners in battle, they were risen against our kind. Hundreds of years past and times bygone - the tales of that burning city are still told. How times change, and yet the mind remains the same.

 

The battle was vicious for who few died in the enemy’s cause. We set to attack the corpse of a seaside keep on high noon. Imperial soldiers swarmed the countryside, surrounding the rubbled fortress on all fronts save the water. Perimeter guards were set, trebuchets loosed, and the rigidity of siege doctrine set in motion. Then, we were sent in.

 

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Military ideology will see fit to send in the mercenaries first, lest they hang on the rear and route at signs of danger. Loss prevention? A test of mettle? The fray rid me of any of these thoughts. I entered the inner depth of that sunken keep, along with various Imperial regiments and what elite the Ichorians had to procure. 

 

Smoke, embers, and molten flame slid across the fortress. The Reivers saw fit to claim as many Imperial souls on their journey to hell. In the black of the tunnels beneath, you were only granted vision of your axe’s path; cleaving, surging, and writhing against attacker and defender alike. 

 

For what little the battle was, my wounds are grievous -  by both body and mind. The Illatian maids are sweet, this much is true. In vain, as no amount of fresh linen or fragrance will shake the copper blood I smell; the death and miasma of the tunnels hangs onto my flesh as a curse.

 

I hear that we will ride for Gladewynn soon. I hope as much. These men are admirable, and their lands are beautiful. But I am not a Man, and this land is not for me. There waits a mountaintop: cold and frigid. A forest, vicious and deep. And in these lands forgotten, aye, a home for me.

 

Signed,

Cassius Ithelanen, Warden of the Avchirran ito Gladewynn

 

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Spoiler

It was a short warclaim, but fun nonetheless. Credits to Treshure for whipping up this post for some added RP flare toward that fight.

 

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The few fishmonger families litter the ruins, mercilesssly slaughtered as they hid in the tunnels under the local fishing village. Left to face an army outnumbered ten to one, the local fishermen underwent a brutal siege wanting Reivers. The empire had falsely propagated a patriotic victory against notorious bandits, when in actuality it was a massacre of innocent fishermen backed by a malicious ruler.

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it. 

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