RUN ROGER RUN

[olpx 1013]

 

An Announcement of Victory, proclaimed by the Cavaliers

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Run Roger, Run!

On the 31st of Sigismund’s End, 247 S.A

Spoiler

 

 

 

HUMILIATED by the defeat they suffered upon their own soil, and caught humiliatingly unawares at Cleves, the Druscand, under the command of their battered liege, ROGER, marched to the gates of Numenost the Fair, that great stone city, shining as a monument to the designs of the Lord. O how the ground trembled at their cries! 

 

“Justice!”

 

“Vengeance!”

 

“Show the bastards who we are!”

 

US MUSES shall not pretend to accredit high bravery when it is undue. Despite the fire in their throats, the Druscans had little in their bellies. The gates of Numenost marked their high-water, the extent of their approach, and it was in wheat fields that they waited for the army within to meet them. It was a brilliant trap, they doubtless believed, for how could 6,000 of the finest Druscans, Haeseni, Reinmarens, and Aaunites falter? They had their rally, they had their battlefield of their choosing, and they had their plan: risk little of their own life, in the hopes a blunder would be made.

 

CALIAS II, that bright-eyed young general, would not let it be so! Under his watchful gaze was 6,300 of the proud that Myrine, Numendil, Blackvale, and Norland had to offer! Two victories had come their way, in no small part due to their discipline, as much as their prowess, and the soldiery well-knew that all good things come in threes. SIR CAROLUS VAN AERT, not one to allow a moment of opportunity to go amiss, informed the young Mareno of the enemy’s disposition, advising aggression in the face of caution, as was always the way of the soldiers of Blackvale. After a moment’s deliberation, the order was made, and then came a cry from the lips of each and every man and woman within the ranks, whether ahorse or afoot.

 

“Advance! Drive the Druscum back to that rubble from whence they came!”

 

INFANTRY, ne’er so storied as they ought be, led the advance out the gates of Numenost, into the dispersed, yet eagerly-waiting crowd of foes. The pikes of Radiant Guard, held firmly by their rank-and-file, made up the vanguard. Under the command of the stalwart FREDERICK EULER and his kin, and moored by the unbreaking shield of SER VALANOR VOURKEHARDT, made first contact with the enemy line, wood battering and steel ringing as the clash was begun. Soon following them were the trusty swords of the allied foot, among them the fierce VIKTORIA WINBURGH and the veteran CAPTAIN VANDER, fearing not for life nor glory, but instead only the defeat that would be had if the line buckled. Oh the Druscans reared and roared, but under the cry of…

 

“We cannot let them win again!“

 

… they allayed their trembling and  maintained the fight.

 

TAR-ZôRZAGAR, he who fears not the legacy of his esteemed forebears, saw the opening early. It was a small gap, nary the size of a blade’s width, but that was all the cavalry needed. A small company of Norlanders, at rallied by the Governor’s man, HELMER, had forced open a window that gazed into the future. The keen-seeing king rode to the heir of Myrine and pointed to what he saw. With a shared nod and a look of ‘do or die’, the king roused the cavalry with the song of his courageous people.

 

“Ride with me you marlins, you hounds, you gryphons and more! Above the plumes of hell and into the fires we soar! Be swift, be gallant, be daring, be bold! Shit is still shit when it’s painted in gold!”

 

“CHARGE!”

 

 

THE THUNDER OF HOOVES from the gates came down like a tempest! Oh how sweet the air was atop those powerful steeds! The crunch came first as the destriers of war bore down upon the waving lines of Druscans (and their friends). How the soldiers cried! How the soldiers died! Yet a clear-eyed observer would notice: they all bore the Red Sun upon their chests. Many good riders won their spurs that day, yet it was House Mareno that boasted many of the best: PRINCE CASSIUS, SIR GHETSIS, the Hero of the Trident, and SAKIS, he whose lance struck true with each blow. However brilliant the riders were that day, there was one who grasped the highest glory that day.

 

CALIAS II, for who else could it have been, spotted across the field his villainous rival. Many things could be said about ROGER, but he shares not the weak-will of his men, though in accepting battle at their head, his foolishness is thricefold. Whipping his reigns as a ship hoists its sails, the young Mareno rode into the tempest of the melee, his lance lowered in preparation to strike his foe.

 

One pass…

 

Two pass…

 

Three pass…

 

CRACK!

 

SPLINTERS OF STEEL broke from the Druscan lord’s breastplate, flying across the field as he toppled from his horse. Seeking refuge among weeds and lilies, he made swiftly for the banks of the River Petra, where an awaiting boat enabled his flight far, far away. The soldiers who bled for him, upon seeing their lord abandon them, joined their voices together in a final chorus, one more shared battlecry. Louder than the rest, it sounded past the gates they did not venture beyond, through the streets they did not tread upon, around the mountains of Numenost and into the bay, where they were likely heard their liege amidst his flight.

 

“RUN!”

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

The sword of the mighty Sir Carolus

Spoiler

 

 

 

[pkdon 1977]

SIR CAROLUS WIPES CLEAN HIS MIGHTY BLADE, WHICH HAD FELLED SO MANY. HE RETURNS HOME A VICTOR ONCE MORE.

 

[Nectorist 12869]

Prince Cassius, though more a socialite by disposition and a thinker by deed, feels as compelled as any to raise his sword in support of his son's feud. The STRENGTH OF MYRINE, though yet to be fully mobilized, is finally united in cause behind bringing a just conclusion to this affair.

[tilly 5115]

Mattea waited in the gatehouse, anxious to pull the lever that could save the day. 

[Coronate 5519]

"Jude (@Ninjay), do you smell him. . . that. . . John Oren?" Asked the Warlord Captain Vander to his former soldier's nephew. His nostrils huffed in the cold outside the walls of Numenost. The wolves were on the hunt for the fleeing Druscans.  "I smell his blood." He flickered his head to the north west. "That way." The black carbarum blade he wielded in one hand dripped with the fresh blood of someone named 'Ashes.'

[ImmortalShadowZ 1306]

Spoiler

 Should have used this song... smh

 

[Lenny 1615]

The King of Idunia, Argelion Zôrzagar, returned to Minas Aranath to take his rest. The battles' aftermath, the parley with the captures, and the shedding of blood upon his own royal soil had certainly wearied him deeply and demanded respite.

In the stillness that followed he wondered, so greatly, what had become of the hawks?
@Samateur

[Deets 1129]

Joseph of Valfleur sat within the clinic of Vallagne as the missive made its way across the confines of the River Petra. Though injured in the fighting before the gates of Númendil, he lifted his spirits in telling the story of chasing the fleeing host as far as the woodland below the Principality of Tir-Glas.

[KaiserJacobII 1456]

... "Perhaps its conclusion will occur soon than I anticipated," Brother Lothaire of Lemonhill replies, turning his gaze upon a fellow True Faither, "Then all this.. death can be put into the pages of Human history." Later, in what solitude he can find amongst his brothers and sisters, he reminds himself, "This is for the True Faith.. this is the only way to protect us. This is the only way."

[__Stal27 2126]

Helmer, champion of the GOVERNAH, thought deeply about the doings that day, pondering in deep thought.

 

“Hrm.”

[Gaja 1310]

The newly knighted Sir Frederick Euler would go about shaking hands with all his family and showing off his newly gifted ring. "Victory, followed by celebration. Nothing brings more joy!" 

 

@Curry@Dr Random K. @Baccaaa@JakubMaybe

[Kardika 1057]

John Oren heeded the order of the Druscan Captain beside him. The banners raised and lance drawn, then at once he and his cavalrymen counter-charged the sallying forces. Dismay came soon after, his lances were depleted and to his shock the army began to break. Yet it wasn't the first time he was on the wrong side of a rout.

In the forest he spotted a passing ally, wounded and on foot, he stopped a moment... "GET ON!" he cried to them, but in that moment a knight appended him and he was swiftly unhorsed... dazed, he attempted to make away into the woods but to no avail, for a trio beset him, bringing him to the ground.

But a stroke of luck once more, the victors dropped him upon the central plaza of the white city... seemingly ignored as the victors celebrated their triumph John crept to the shadows, waiting some 15 saint minutes before he made his escape...

"Heheheheheeheheheh!!" he cackled after commandeering a rowboat, twice-fold escaping the hands of justice this day...

Edited August 27, 2025 by Kardika

[STBNL 250]

Amidst the surprise counter, Berengerus was struck with a wild lance during the decisive charge upfront. Dazed and on the verge of succumbing death- The onward warcries of his allies stitched his broken will back together. After reclaiming footing, the Fleiver grabbed his dropped sword and fought back with same ferocity since the beginning.

 

However, that was an etched memory soon to be forgotten. As the very same man was recovering back now in Grense. With wounds treated with ointments, and left alone to relax, was scribbling the finalized parts of his personal journal.
 

"Druscans and remnants of bygone banners have one misconception of the formed Coalition. 'They naught run.' Win against the hive once and we shall bring a downpour of incursions with victories back. It's much as like a slope from here on then. If I had word of advice to say to that egotistical Lord of Ashford, is to surrender. Not a need to keep tearing into that husking morale of your people." 

[IrradiatedGoose 305]

The Order of Dawn's Knight-Captain cleaned the blood from his blades, the gore and viscera of the battles that occurred that Saint's day had caked into his armor, staining his Tir-Glas green closer to a shade of muddy brown. He looked to the sky as rain began to trickle down from the skies above, washing over him as the chaos drained and prisoners were taken. He made his way back to the city before spotting a familiar face bound and sat in the grass....

[MonteGiant 891]

Rodrigo Tupaq Amaru Leomonte would look over the carnage that has occurred outside of the White City's walls, He had been at the Storming of Cleves, he had seen The March Lord of Avistra plead to join the other side, he had seen the warring of man. The boy soon turning into a man would watch as much as this occurs, and have a smirk appear over his face. Those Druscans fighting against his overlords, that so solemnly wished to drop his family's name within their missive for no reason, they were seemingly failing. "Aq Teqse Hatun Kuntur, qaylla Hatun Kuntur, Tukapu Aknapu Hatun Kunturan."

 

In Contrast however, would be Tancredi Altavilla, his blind loyalty to his liege lord had rendered the man to his fate. . . The Trinacrian man was dead. No songs would be sung of his triumphs in battle previously, nor would his friends possibly even remember him as they fall beside him. His final visions were that of the famed Warrior High Pontiff skewering him with his renowned spear. He would die upon this cold battlefield, he would die with the rest of his brethren, he would die, but his Lord would live to see another day. . . and that was enough for him. He would smile as he feels the shivers of hell clutch at him, "Gloria Drusco. . . Sangui Pi Ashford." [PK: The Death of Tancredi Altavilla]