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First of all, you must forgive the meandering thoughts of this cluttered address. I am so very old now, and thus my mind does not go as straight to the point as it once did. You must also forgive this document on account of the nature of it, that being that it is transcribed; my eyes are not what they once were, and neither is the deftness of my fingers.


I would firstly like to clarify, for posterity’s sake, my thoughts and beliefs regarding the relationship between Haense and Oren, as I am sure that these things are not only in the public eye now, but will also remain relevant in the foreseeable and unforeseeable futures. 


Perhaps unsurprisingly, I am totally jubilant, utterly ecstatic at the news of Haeseni independence. We are a proud, mighty people who deserve the right to self-determination, and we have fought to either seize or maintain that countless times. The terms negotiated between our great and proud King and the state of Oren are perfectly acceptable. No longer will we suffer the indignity of foreign laws, or the shame of being a subjugated people, for let us not forget that it was only by force that we were Imperialised, conquered by a Pertinaxi tyrant, conquered by an army whose officers would much rather have seen us wiped from the continent. Therefore any relationship between us and Helenians was destined to be marred by the stain of our overlords’ previous crimes. It is far better for us to be free yet less certain of the future of the Orenian-Haeseni relationship, than to live under the aftermath of such a sure dishonour.


This initial suspicion and distaste of the Empire was amplified when the first official statement of the Basrid ministry, ostensibly discussing and displaying Orenian culture, failed to mention my work. It was unthinkable, and still amazes me even today. I, the greatest poet of the contemporary era, not only in Haense but in all of the Empire, in the entirety of Arcas. I was without mention - and not only that, but no man of Haense, no cultural work of Haense, nothing of Haense, was mentioned. How could the state with the richest, strongest, most lasting cultural legacy of all humanity go unrecognised when Adria and Kaedrin, petty and irrelevant backwaters, were celebrated? It disgusted me. But my disgust only grew after I published Sons of Horen.


I shall not lie, so I shall clarify first: Sons of Horen (and The Calling of the Will for that matter), my only major work of the time not featured in my Troubles anthology, was written as a purely pragmatic piece, and furthermore has been falsely interpreted. Falsely interpreted, because the sole reason it was written to raise morale for the Orenian forces, who naturally did not inherently possess the sheer spirit of brotherhood that every Haenseman does. Pragmatic, because I was willing to put on some show of pan-Imperial sentiment if it meant strengthening our coalition forces in the face of a bloody Norlandic purge. The idea of a homogenous humanity makes me feel sick, to be especially blunt. It shows the arrogance of the Orenian aristocrats, that the only official praise I have ever received from them for my work was a single letter sent to me by the Imperial government. They praised the false ideals of Sons of Horen, of course, and made some show of analysis of themes and such, but I was left feeling insulted. The Orenians knew nothing of my previous, superior work, because I was but a wild northman to them. They had only recognised the song which praised and uplifted themselves. The arrogance. The sheer, horrible arrogance of the entire business left a bitter taste in my mouth. There is a reason I did not follow up on the invitation to the Novellon. They had insulted me, and I swore then never to write anything in honour of the Empire ever again. 


In the years that followed it seemed that Haense had been totally forgotten by the Orenian government, and as our traditions and customs came under renewed attack from all Imperial quarters - the racially aggravated attacks in Helena, the sustained attempts to homogenise our cultural heritage, the insulting nature with which our King was treated and the insistence by the very highest of Orenians to refer to us as ‘Haensers’ - I published my Letter to the Foes of Hanseti-Ruska. As I am sure we shall be attacked many more times by the weak, the jealous and the dishonest in the coming months and years, I would like to re-publish it here, with a new dedication. This comes in the wake of a certain document recently distributed by a supposedly civilised man of the Imperial Everardine College.




Dedicated and directed to every Orenian, from the highest to the lowest, who dares to disrespect Sigismund’s lands and heirs in matters of dignity and honour, that is the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, her King, and every one of Her people.




To the Foes of Hanseti-Ruska


How long have We survived?

How much have We outlived?

Too long, and too much

For any ordinary nation.


She is a lasting state,

A fair state, a strong state,

She spreads her wings

Over the Highlander traditions.


So hear Us, and hear this,

you who hate Us,

you who fear Us,

you miserable skuke-people,


you who would see

Our customs gone

you who would try

To dominate Us:


you are not different,

you are not special,

As all others, Haense will outlast you.

your hubris amuses Us!


you will soon be dead, 

But you cannot kill Us.

Hanseti-Ruska is one.

Gorm sees your defeat, though you cannot.


We spit on you, 

you who are less than filth,

We laugh at your whining,

We take joy from your hate.


you who stand against Us:

Good luck to you, for why not?

For neither luck nor skill can defeat

Our nation, destined to last forever.


We will never perish,

Because We always persist.

Siegmund's Kingdom is immortal.

Our traditions are everlasting.


And what are you?

Poor child, you are skravi.




I do not hate Oren, however; I hate the idea of pan-humanity, but I do not hate the idea of the state in Helena. I hate the way in which they have acted towards the Haeseni people, and I hate Godfery’s conquest of our nation, but there are also significant ways in which Oren have honoured us, by way of military aid, for example. My rhetoric towards them may previously, in this very text, have been harsh, but it is because I love Haense, and because I love to see her free, and because I hate to see the great light of freedom snuffed out. I am therefore immensely satisfied with the agreement negotiated by Josef the Liberator - I would be saddened to see all ties cut with Helena. The alliance pleases me greatly, as does the continued economic and social ties. We have once again taken back our freedom, but not only that, we have retained the greatest, most beneficial parts of our friendship with Oren. Let the Haeseni and the Orenian finally stand side by side in an equal partnership, forever, unsullied by the fetters of dependence or the useless hostility of a rivalry! 


We are entering a grand new age for the Haeseni people. All my life has been preparing for this - all my contributions to our culture, all my acts and my words, have been preparation for these last moments of my life, my brothers and my sisters, proud men and women of the North. We are the heirs to Exalted Sigismund himself, the inheritors of his vast and bountiful lands. At last, the manacles have been cast off, the vision of freedom I once saw in a distant time, long ago, has manifested. I present my final work.




Dedicated to King Josef I of Hanseti-Ruska, the Liberator. On behalf of all your loyal subjects - thank you for fulfilling our dreams of liberty, thank you for seizing that which was once stolen from us: the reins of our own destiny! Long may the Haeseni remember your glorious deed, and long may you live!




Rejoice, my brothers,

Your homeland is free.

My sisters, do you feel her soul?

Do you know that she is reborn?

Do you sense it in your heart,

Do you taste her words,

See her burst from the break of dawn?


She loudly proclaims -

Go forth, my crows!

Go forth, my children,

I have scattered your foes!

I have shorn off their fangs,

I have vanquished your woes!

Sigismund's nation, awake!




My life is leaving me, I can feel it. I have led a varied and full life, I know that much: I have seen kings come and go, I have talked with some of the greatest Haensemen of this century and I have helped spur a glorious period of Haeseni culture. Though there has been tragedy, too: I have lived to see the deaths of almost every one of my few friends, I have seen poverty and hardships and I have endured so very many battles. I am one of the last veterans of The War of Two Emperors and my memories of it have never left me. When I became a man, I was expelled from my home, and left to wander in search of renown - , I am grateful to have served, not only because it directed me to the poetry by which I have earned so much fame (it could be said that the horrific Siege of Helena was the catalyst for my entire career), but because it gave me the opportunity to perform the most glorious patriotic duty: to tease one’s own life about the jaws of death for no reason other than national pride. It is a beautiful thing to endure the most terrible of hardships, not because of the act itself but because of the sheer force of will and the utter conviction of belief it necessitates. 


Is my life leaving too soon? Perhaps, as there are still anthologies and miscellaneous poems and works that remain as of yet unpublished, though it is my hope that they shall one day grace bookshelves, even if they are not quite as tweaked as I would have liked; but ultimately, my work aside, I feel that I have done enough, that I have lived a life to be proud of.


For nearly a century have I unfailingly dedicated myself to Haense. I have never taken nor desired a wife - my homeland is enough for me! Nothing can tempt me away from serving Her. Though I be formed of flesh and bones, the flesh shall wither, and the bones too shall be ground to nothingness by time himself. What, then, shall remain as evidence that Sir Dietrich van Jungingen once walked and laughed and thought? The answer, my countrymen, is the power of the word, not just in ink but written on the hearts of men - the influence my poems have had, the joys and sorrows they have elicited. I shall act on the last words my friend the great Wilheim Barclay said to me, and say myself that I do indeed leave behind a legacy to be admired. Am I not a founding figure in this great resurgence of Haeseni culture? Am I not the father of modern Haeseni poetry? Am I not in fact the preeminent writer of poems of this age? 


And so that is how I shall be remembered. Armed with this knowledge I now prepare myself for my death. My beloved countrymen, from the most honest of the common folk to the Liberator himself - I salute you. May Hanseti-Ruska prosper until the end of days.






Sir Dietrich van Jungingen KML

249 ES - 340 ES Vzmey and Hyff



There is a poet whose pen lies deadly still,

 The words once wrought have wrung their final rhymes. 

The pages long were lost to eyes until 

The letters read, they were but ancient lines.


A man may stare into the void and fear,

 But staring back, I shed but joyful tears.


- Tharik Sturmholm





I may not have done much actual roleplay for the last half of my character’s life, but I’m glad I did. Chances are I’ve now turned my back on LOTC roleplay for the foreseeable future, but I’m glad that I decided to join the server and do some roleplay, ultimately. Dietrich was my first character, and therefore partly an author-insert; but I’d like to think that he slowly moved away from that as the new-player syndrome left me. It's kind of amazing to think that my love of poetry, both in appreciating the work of other poets and in writing poems myself, grew directly out of LOTC. 

If I promised anyone a poem, don’t panic! I’ll write it eventually.

On a final note, I’d like to say thanks to everyone I’ve roleplayed with, everyone who has further engorged my swollen ego by way of complimenting my poems, and to the general Haense community for being such awesome and supportive people.




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Vorion Baruch reads the news and sheds a tear as he enjoys his breakfast with the family.

“A loss to all Haeseni folk. May your words be still be spoken a thousand years from now, old friend.”

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Koeng Josef reads over Sir Dietrich’s final works, his eyes watering as he sat by his fire illuminated hearth. “Sir Dietrich, may you rest well.”

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A young Prince, struggling with the art of reading and writing, previously unaware of the works of Dietrich von Jungingen, finds solace and inspiration in the works of deceased Poet.

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*Would feel a soft sorrow as he heard of the news, having previously not known of the poet, his works brought an inspiration to Anton, tears following shortly after, as such great works were not be seen of again* ”May vy rest in the seven skies” *would sign the cross and say a soft prayer*

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The nation mourns the loss of a talented poet, and in particular, a spirited mousey-haired woman welcomes the author into the Seven Skies. A dedicated writer, and yet a man who had taken the then-squire under his wing, the man to teach her how to wield a blade. A near-forgotten Primrose Kortrevich thanks the man who led her to knighthood.

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