Imperium - A Missive

[WizardWhisper 385]

Another quiet day passed the Albans by. As quiet as it could in times of war. A breeze blew steadily, cascading down the hill. A group tread across the grass, heading towards their destination. Beside high stalks of wheat they stopped, brandishing fire, and losing it upon the fields! Flame burned bright, smoke climbed high, and horses galloped away, their mission complete.

 

To the Empire. To the rats--pigs--living it up in those stone walls. To those that fight for a war, for ‘glory’, for bloodshed. To those that remain for the sake of bettering yourselves, not believing you’ll next be on the chopping block…

 

Look around to the dead, the shamed, the ones marked as deserters. The death count grows higher each passing day. Who will be next?

 

“Ave Imperium”

 

Demons they parade themselves as. In their walls, their streets, their halls. What humans of God are they to act so ruthless? How can they possibly believe themselves acting in his word?

 

To Hell with the Emperor.

 

To Hell with each and every person that stands beside the Emperor. Who encourages his choices. Who enacts his commands with their minds still intact.

 

To Hell with the Emperor who continues the tirade of those before him. Who finds no end to his bloodlust. Under his fist, countless denizens fall. No graves nor services will support the amount of dead beneath his feet.
 

Futue te ipsum, Imperium

 

The fire that burned your ally’s crops is only the beginning. Your crimes that you justify have consequences. For those who think themselves unable to do much, you’re wrong. Heed this missive as a call, continue to fight back against the Empire’s tyranny. Know that you aren’t alone in this fight, that this will not be the end.

 

Lyrics that carried over flaming field. A tune for those tired of it all.
—-------

There is a tavern, a merry old tavern, 

Crowded down the street. 

Everyone loves its beer so brown 

But the imperials laughed and all came down 

To burn it ‘neath their feet. 

 

The mayor had a lovely cat, 

It gave its tricks and riddles. 

But yester-morn I saw it running, 

Eyes a-fright while men were humming, 

A merry sport for those imperials! 

 

Dark are the days and none are safe, 

Who knows what next they’ll ruin? 

But golden wheat will make my beer. 

A song for a drink to drown my fear. 

And I will live right through it! 

 

O’ woe is me for the flames I see, 

It kisses field and wood. 

There goes my beer, the price to pay, 

As allies and victims of the imperial way, 

“Ave Imperium.” 

Bathe it all in blood. 

 

“Ave Imperium.” 

None can escape the flood.

—-------

 

Spoiler

The song above has been taken from the Lord of the Rings and edited to fit the theme. The song is from the Fellowship of the Ring, pg.155.
Credits for the edits go to Celestial_Bleh. She also helped me write this post!
Credits go to me for the field image. Dividers found on free to use divider site.

The event took place on 12/30/2025

 

[Werew0lf 24180]

“The fear,” The Emperor beamed, snapping his index-finger. “You make this worthwhile. I feel encouraged.”

[ChainedDragons 1374]

Somewhere Wyrm-Wood reads over these lyrics, already putting his merry mood into an all time high. Perhaps things were looking up. 

[Celestial_Bleh 224]

“Godric” tucked armor and halberd safely away, a thought spared to the javelin that had nearly dented it. But none had been hurt. None had been caught. It gave greater hope to other such acts. He hummed as a certain song still lingered on the tongue, turning his thoughts to what was next to come. 

[Cryptic 549]

Gundahar von Berkhoven was given the missive. Upon reading it, he only said, "Signing their own death sentence," as he crumpled up the paper and began to look for the culprit.

[cometking123 236]

Rewan Talespinner sighed. This song seemed not the Pour House, the finest establishment in all of Rittersberg, but perhaps a tavern somewhere else. With cribbed melody, Rewan made some....edits to the lyrics proper!

—-------

There is a tavern, a merry old tavern, 

Crowded down the street. 

Everyone loved their ale so pale

The lovely waitstaff, songs sungs with great applause!

Day and night imperials laughed and danced.

For our fine city's mayor paid another round!

 

Now Gigi, the baker had 10 lovely cats, 

It gave its tricks and riddles. 

But yester-morn I saw it running, 

Eyes in delight, fed another morsel

Fished from quays and rivers in peace, tranquility.

A merry sport for all good Imperials!

 

Dark are the days and all are sated!

Who knows what delights the chef shall stew and simmer!

But golden wheat will make my beer. 

Plucked from peaceful field and quiet village

And I will live right through it, for many more barrels! 

 

O’ woe is me for the flames I see, 

For as sconce replaced, night o' revelry ends in drunken slumber!

There goes my beer, the price to pay, 

For peasants and nobles o' imperial way, 

“Ave Imperium.” 

Bathe it all in oak-aged rum! 

 

“Ave Imperium.” 

None can escape the drunken fun!

—-------

Edited January 1 by cometking123

[Navigator 4260]

The Lord Exarch of the Cohort scrunched up his nose some as he read along.

"Yes... certainly this missive will change something..."

[Amesti 247]

"Lilac" had missed the fun, but they would make their own. In the wee hours, they crept along the streets. Soft humming of the wonderful little tune accompanied their work. The missive began to find its way into mailboxes across the empire and its allied lands.