tcs_tonsils_ 2833 Share Posted April 11, 2022 Spoiler ANTHEMS OF BROTHERHOOD: WAR OF THE WHIGS 8th of Tov ag Yermey, 420 E.S. [!] A portrait depicting the Siege of Southbridge “Siege of Southbridge” I can see the fortress from the waters edge, That looming massive structure. Men upon the wall, birds upon a hedge. Their faces a blotch upon the upper. The men and dwed stand shoulder to shoulder, Crossbows knocked and ready, Waves break and white foam brings in from polder. Like a final breath before the plunge. And all at once, hell breaks its locks As a command is given to fire. Those massive wooden towers cut loose, Tributches launching only death and destruction. I can’t remember how many arrows we released. Just that with every arrow the sky turned more gray We were standing upon the waters edge. Yet I could hear crying upon that wall. Stones cracked and broke and fell, The wall came tumbling down. Men screamed and died, The soldiers came tumbling down. And so with brute force We pushed those Orenians back. Their pitiful,looming massive structure. Diminished to rubble and ash. “No Honor” No honor in a honor duel, No honor after the result is given. You gnash your teeth, shaking as our Champion dominates the battlefield. Celebration comes to a halt as you Cowardly take your cheap shot. You scream death to those invited in good faith, Stark raving mad in your pursuit. You turn on us like hungry dogs, Who forget the mouths that feed them. You slaughter and kill with foolish indignation, Which only deals to slander your own name. The is no glory if there is not honor, And there is no honor in such actions. You murder at Arichsdorf, cutting down Hundreds in your unforgivable butchery. But all hope is not lost, even through The desperate initiatives of our enemy. For we shall rise to avenge the brave That were betrayed at Arichsdorf. [!] A portrait depicting the defeat of Tripartite forces at Haverlock Fields “I Dreamed a Dream I Dreamt.” I linger here, if not just to see The hope of a glorious revival. A maintained pasture of something Far beyond the scope of a man’s denial. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt, A glowing orange that illuminated The sky, in a stark contrast with the dark Crimson that stained the entire hill. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt The trees swayed gently in the nothingness. Streaks of light fell from the Seven Skies around me, As if to pick and choose those who came. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the birds of the fallen shrieked In a pitiful agony, yet their voices were But a faint cry to my own broken soul. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the sky crackled as dark clouds Zoomed over the growing night sky. Their forms hid all of the stars. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the world morphed into dull Colors. Boring and simplistic, it was. A rush of something dwelled within. It was on this this hill, amongst The silent thousands that I found myself again. Tears streamed down my face as the darkness Creeped in and consumed everything I knew. “Merciful Ruler” He ponders, wonders what it is that he should do. Hand affirms on the grip, a stern expression resting upon his lips. Light beams, streams into the room, illuminating his back. Hand affirms on the grip, eyes tense with thought. Words of woe, slow, they do not retreat from his mouth. Eyes glanced between them, studying their freight. Tears rain, strain as they croak out pleads for safety. Eyes glanced between them, taking note of their despair. Orbs watch, swatch upon a blank canvas of people. Deep sigh finds its escape, words forming in his mouth. Tender embrace, aface to those he was enemy of. Deep sigh finds its escape, delicate touch of a merciful ruler. “For reprieve, leave back to where you came with your lives.” Cries exude, tears of such relief and joy. “Take peace, release those fears you once had here.” Cries exude, as they are reunited with those they love. Ruling’s gilden burden, to know when to strike and when to be merciful. [!] A portrait depicting the march of Haeseni forces to Eastfleet “Death at Eastfleet” So let loose thine arrows, send them hurtling toward the enemy. With a single word, thousands of bolts blot out the sun as they streak across the sky. And with a single thunderous clap, the wrenched return with their own volley. Death appears to take the brave, status or none, death seeks to unify. With a single word, thousands of bolts blot out the sun as they streak across the sky. They strike flesh and stone, cracking and splintering everything it touches. Death appears to take the brave, status or none, death seeks to unify. Impaled upon the shafts of wood and iron, the pale body blushes. They strike flesh and stone, cracking and splintering everything it touches. “Run forth, thine brethren.” I heard thee scream out, sword raised with wide grin. Impaled upon the shafts of wood and iron, the pale body blushes. “Run forth. Kill the Bastards.” The man cried out, then crumpled in the wind. “Run forth, thine brethren.” I heard thee scream out, sword raised with wide grin. And so we did. Man, orc, and dwarf charged forth with such enraged vigor. “Run forth. Kill the Bastards.” The man cried out, then crumpled in the wind. Push through the nerve, release thine adrenaline, and maintain thine rigor. Man, orc, and dwarf charged forth with such enraged vigor. Blessed iron met with heathen steel, as both forces met midway. Push through the nerve, release thine adrenaline, and maintain thine rigor. Slashing and bashing and cutting and slicing, fighting lasts through the day. Blessed iron met with Anathema’s steel, as both forces met midway. My clothes are drenched with my sweat, my armor with the blood of others. Slashing and bashing and cutting and slicing, fighting lasts through the day. Fighting lasts through the day, till each foe is struck down by Godan’s ushers. My clothes are drenched with my sweat, my armor with the blood of others. I dare not ponder if it is that of mine friend or adversary. Each foe is struck down by Godan’s ushers. Forever from this moment shall they remain sedentary. I dare not ponder if it is that of mine friend or adversary. I hear the calls of our brethren who lay battered upon the dirt and blood. Forever from this moment shall they remain sedentary. Their pitiful cries ring out in the thin silence, a broken dam to flood. I hear the calls of our brethren who lay battered upon the dirt and blood. Doomed souls, longing for the release of death, something to relieve their strife. Their pitiful cries ring out in the thin silence, a broken dam to flood. Godan strike us down lest we forget their sacrifice. Spoiler Huge shout out to @___siren___ @UnBaed For their amazing pieces depicting The Crow March and Southbridge! Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich, Battle-Bard of the BSK 19 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phersades 1174 Share Posted April 11, 2022 Nikolai Kortrevich was so glad that he had eyes again so that he could read his cousins poems. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Frymark 2794 Share Posted April 11, 2022 (edited) After reading the writings, the Marshal of Haense sat quietly in his office, pondering as the war closed on its 20 year mark. Edited April 11, 2022 by Frymark 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Harbinger 336 Share Posted April 12, 2022 "Southbridge..." Glod mutters, remembering the harrowing tale of The Man In Red, as pity fills the dark dwarf. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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