THE ROUT OF ROGER

[Lenny 1615]

 

 

VICTORY REIGNED UPON THE 7TH OF THE AMBER COLD, 247 S. A.

 

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Spoiler

 

https://youtu.be/ZUqBglpHTO0?si=3IhnN_8Bi7WO4y32 

 

 

 

ROM THE MARENO’S guard post within the Imperial city of Grense, the host of Idunia assembled, banners of their arms lofted high– snapping in the wind across the heights. The levies of the Principality of Myrine and Blackvale alongside them, each soldier’s heart steeled by the promise of vengeance on behalf of long-mourning grievances. At the head rode CALIAS II, Princely-Heir of Myrine, commanding the warband, flanked by his mother, the steel-clad Princess MADELIEF.

From the centre, SIR GHETSIS MARENO and CAPTAIN VANDER raised their war cries, and the lord of horses AROKAS intoned a throat-song, a chant that threaded through the cries across the valley. The warband thundered upon the road to Silasia, hooves drumming the earth. The Druscans, quivering behind their fragile parapets, trembling in their false fortifications, had called themselves warriors; yet they were soon revealed as mere baying curs, cowering behind walls that were nothing more than their kennels. 

 

Arrows blackened the sky as the first volleys fell; shields raised, hammers rang against steel, and the clash of blades echoed like the judgment of GOD. The Druscans sallied out of their hole, floundering and faltering, their horses stumbling as easily as their courage, riders flung to the dust of their own hubris. Their fleeting defiance was ground beneath our boots; ladders scaled walls that could not shield them from the grip of our wrath. The Druscans charged once more, pitiful and desperate, only to shatter under the weight of inevitability. Close by, MARTIUS and CAROLUS VAN AERT held their levies steadfast, while RUDI KIRK AND HELMER swept along the flanks of the keep, cutting through the Druscan ranks as easily as wind through wheat. The Sword of Owyn, VALANÓR VOURKEHARDT, and his father, DUKE VIAGO VOURKEHARDT, lent their seasoned experience to the charge, guiding the Númenedain host to the siege that would ultimately collapse the Druscan defenses with terrifying efficiency. Here and there, the shadow of SER HELEDD’S hammer ablaze, struck men to their knees. FREDERICK EULER and his retinue of Eulers struck through their forces with uncontested conviction.

At the forefront, ROGER, consumed by his own impotent fury, found no succor; His men laid down their arms, abandoning him, leaving him cornered and humiliated within his own keep, wherein the Archduke and his son had bound him, then SUDDENLY, he vanished before their very eyes, as if swallowed by the shame of his own failure. Others, desperate to rescue him, were driven into the inner keep, bound and brought low, the fortress itself a witness to the futility of their pride. Ranks dissolved, cries of panic rose and fell, and nearly all were bound in chains, their spirit subdued.

 

By day’s end, fifty-five had become just three, the Druscan host captured and their pretensions shattered. Walls, arms, and arrogance alike were brought low beneath the iron will of the Myrine, the Númenedain, and their allies of Blackvale and Ubersreik. Prisoners were gathered within the fortress of Minas Aranath, released only to bear the bitter memory of their UTTER defeat. 

 

L E T  I T  B E  W R I T T E N: The Blackvale Levyman, REINHARD BEHR, has felled a hundred in this battle. ROGER vanished. The Druscan spine has been crushed beneath the weight of their pride, devoured by the very hands of those they dared defy. Idunia stands eternal, unbroken, its justice a shadow that shall haunt the Druscan memory until the end of their days. 

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUYUx2OEz48

thx to @milkyi for post : )

 

 

 

[Marthia 273]

Sascha Glennmaer smiled, her armor marred with scrapes, dents, and a smearing of blood. A proper announcement of their victory brought tears to her eyes. 
Tears for the fallen,
Tears of pride,

Though they did not fall.
They would not fall, unlike the Druscans.

Edited August 26, 2025 by Marthia

[Nectorist 12869]

Upon hearing of the news of his son's victory, the Prince of Myrine decides to further his support for his son's war. He sends additional supplies and funds to his forces encamped in the fields of Numendil.

[LordofCabbage 559]

"Man may CALCULATE but HEAVEN ORDAINS ! ! !" screeched the lamellar-clad warrior at the eve of their triumph.

[olpx 1013]

Calias II spurred his steed forth, blade raised high as his cry rang out above the clash.

"IDUNIAAAAA"

[greisn 365]

 

“ALL THE WAY.”

 

Heaving the splintered face of a shield overhead, a Recruit of the Radiant Guard recalled bloodshed at sight of its black-and-yellow heraldry; wounded armsmen trampled to death in pursuit of those still standing. Not even beneath the branches of Caladhril would he find reprieve, knowing that in the face of a graceless death, these soldiers shouted naught but war-cries.

[sam33497 7356]

"The second act of the war - my cousins are strong and have won a decisive victory, but assuredly there is much more conflict to come." Maximilian Caius spoke, pondering the outlooks of the war. Soon with the Lady Lecelina de Bruges to whom he was engaged, the Imperial Prince set about handling affairs of the war, seeking the mitigation of cruelty and upholding of the Charter amidst the rigors of hard-fought conflict.

[ChainedDragons 1374]

Nickolai smiled upon reading the missive. He had helped with that. The devil looked at the new spear he had collected from the battlefield. That wasn't so bad.

[Random 1690]

"Glory Glory to Idvnia! Glory to Tar-Zôrzagar!", shouted a patriot of Idunia, young Severin Euler, as he rode home to the White City with a bound prisoner atop the back of his horse.

[Curry 115]

"Glory to Idvnia, Glory to the Tar!" Shouted another Idunian patriot, young Isak Euler,  twin brother of Severin Euler, as he rode back with him to the White City.

[zuziee 4004]

Circe Mareno congratulated her brother and the troops as they returned home, a satisfied look across her visage. 

[TomFunks 756]

Ser Valanór Vourkehardt scanned the missive with pride at the triumph of the Númenedain. Though, as he continued, his brows furrowed and the click of his tongue marked his disappointment… At the sight of a familiar name did relief wash over his countenance, however…

“Ah, thank goodness!” He remarked. “They made sure to include the venerable Ser Heledd.”

[milkyi 1985]

SER HELEDD traced new streaks of green war paint across her marred visage, the pigment mixed with dust and grime, as she cleansed her blackened boomsteel hammer of the ichor that stained its surface upon the battle's end. 

[Tainga 521]

The High Chancellor stood within the room, watching as the Archduke and his son set their hands to binding Roger. The wars end was so near–close enough to feel its breath, yet it had not quite clasped. And then, in a blink, Roger was gone. Him vanishing stoked Athaenis Vourkehardt's ire, though in truth, it changed nothing. 

For the battle was theirs. 

"Glory to Idunia!" She cried out once the battle was over, her voice cutting through the air.

[The Vulgate Cycle 577]

CASTAMIR of the Iron Tower sat as his heart raced, so much battle, so much of it back-to-back. But still he felt proud. A battle worth fighting at last.
"Utúlie’n aurë!"