WAR | At your gates

[Werew0lf 24180]

 

 

ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴅʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ, ɢᴀʀɢʟɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ –

 

It seeped out of each nose, running across the riverbed of cracks on the table. His singular eye twitched furiously, and as foamy white froth escaped his lips, a word could be heard.  

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“HADRIAN!”  Argelion called, pressing a gauntleted-hand upon the Emperor’s shoulder and yanking him back. With one violent slap, the hand struck across Hadrian’s face, causing blood to escape his lips.   Something brewed within his mind; numbers, positions, men, women, artillery, costs, and all the others. Hadrian’s consciousness snapped into place at the violent thrashing, and his head steered towards the High King of Idunia contemplatively, using the hem of his sleeve to wipe away the blood and mucus.    “... – let us slow down,” the king spoke, turning towards the table. It was a vast war-plan for that of Cerulia, with their fortress in tow, the armed artillery scouted by imperial guardsmen, and numerous small figurines of cannons and trebuchets armed in each corner.   “Argelion, if I lose this battle, what will my people think of me? What of my Empire?” Hadrian clasped numerous parchments, dipping his quill into the ink-pot and starting to sprawl numerals across the fissures across its parchment, where variable angles and positions lurked – the hills, the rivers, each tree that obstructed it. “I am not like my father, my friend. He is a warlord, his very existence exudes prowess… – look at me,” The Emperor spat to the side, it was a mixture of saliva-and-blood, dabbled in a deep crimson.    “They will never follow a weak, sickly Emperor if he loses all his battles.” Using a wooden spool, one of the figurines is pushed up further, it represents a generic commander, carved of wood, and it is placed upon the very front of the dip in the enemy fortress.   “Even in our youth, your worry overcame you. Slow it down, this is all for the sake of peace and love.” Argelion repeated, and turned towards the war-path. His hands clutched a parchment each, they seemed to represent a block of cannons on the foremost back, with vast red lines angled out towards the fortress. “Will this work?”   At the spoken words, Hadrian’s grip loosened upon the numerous parchments, the quills, and the wooden-stick pushing the figurines. They moved to clasp his face, with his head hung low; a gnarly sigh escaped the pit of his throat. “It must.”

 

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-=-

 

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ʀᴏᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴜᴍꜱ, ᴀꜱ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʙᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴡᴀʀᴠᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ. It was in quick succession; the first leftmost cannons armed by the Emperor’s brother, Maximilian Caius, hurled out towards the adjacent artillery. As each side lit the burning stick, it seems the Empire’s canons prevailed; dwarves scattered and fell from their battlements, or found their bodies felled by splinters of destroyed artillery. 

 

In the most front, the Shugo Honda and his retinue of samurai pulled the cannon's wheels, pushing gunpowder through the tipped-barrel. Within his hand, the Shugo inspected the calculations, turning the barrel upright, and then shifting it three footsteps-left. Aimed towards the mid-riff, a large boom exploded across the battlefield – the enemy cannons were struck once again, firing upon a squadron of urukim who found their bodies littered or blown to pieces by the volley of artillery-shells.

 

The Emperor awaited on horse-back alongside his son, Martinus; craning his neck rightwards, his spy-glass hefted up, pointed towards the direction of the High King of Idunia who stood upon a valley of two thousand soldiers, with artillery-officers manning the make-shift supports. “Are you nervous, my son?” Hadrian questioned–a nearby artillery-round struck directly in front of the Emperor, dirt scattering onto his armour.

 

“... – no, father,” The imperial prince responded, his gaze set upon the small break awaiting to be opened. 

 

A horn-blast resonated, and the canons ripped forth; Argelion raised his sword, and then lowered it, in the same succession of his movement, fourteen canons blasted out towards the dwarven-fortress, immediately destroying all enemy-artillery on the first-level of their battlements. A dwarven cannon that managed to fire immediately struck one of the nearby canons near the High King, who was able to escape its path of destruction. 

 

Sir Corswain snapped the beam, and two large boulders hurled out from the trebuchets, immediately pounding the top ridges of the fortress. With the complete destruction of their levelled artillery, and an entry point made, something resonated across the battlefield. 

 

At the very peak of the hill, the Lord Marshal Vander pressed his lips against a curled, gilded horn bearing the imperial sigil. The sound of the ferocious horn, much akin to a dragon’s raging torrent, commanded the beginning of the siege.

 

“Lead the charge,” Hadrian clasped his left-hand upon the shoulder of Martinus, who was also joined by his two other brothers: Titus and Marcus. 

 

The siege-ladders pulled with the weight of the soldiers, slamming onto the fortress front. Martinus pulled his helmet over his head, and strum his visor down. The men abandoned the artillery, and soon, they started to clamber up – with the youngling prince leading the front. 

 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ was eventually joined by his friend, Argelion, who both stared up at the ladder. With a small thwack, the High King smacked Hadrian across his shoulder, and uttered. “I will see you up there, friend,” It was courage often found in those of Malchadiel’s ranks, and without any further word, the High King of Idunia clambered the ladders with his men, and his blade started to jut out towards any dwarf or urukim in view.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

Smoke wafted from the dwarven fortress.

 

The banners of Urguan fell, burning in flames.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀʀᴋ.

 

 

---

 

Issued and averred by the office of the

IMPERIAL CROWN

 

 

✠ HEED, LEAL SONS OF HOREN;

 

You have grown slothful since our last battle; when your back first turned to us on the field, I contemplated whether this was a fine ruse, or an attempt to save grace–perhaps, it was a trap, and we were being slowly led on.

However, today has proven otherwise. If fear lingers, it is gone; you have failed. Dwarves are known for their superior artillery, but the absolute pathetic display shown today in your fortress has only made one point clear – man will persevere. We grow, we age, and we learn. You have supped on your longevity and have degraded into wild beasts with no wits or smarts.

 

Your gods have long abandoned you. Now, we sit at the doorsteps of your home. Soon enough, your kingdom will fall, and it will not fall because we ought it to – it shall fall due to your own mistakes, for the actions of your people, and for not knowing your place upon this continent.

 

Surrender will not be accepted. As my friend the Whitefish often speaks, if the dwarves would rather die, let it be so.

 

On other joyous news, I must celebrate another into the ranks of the Imperial Order of the Red Dragon. My son, who I had once lost, has returned – and it is proven, his blood is mine, and his might is strong. It was seen in the past few weeks as we holed ourselves over the hills, that Martinus showed great leadership, prowess, and courage.

 

For this, we command it so, and welcome another into our services:

 

His Imperial Highness

Sir Martinus Aurelius

‘the Blood Wyrm’
@helldiving

 

AVE IMPERIUM!

 

 

---

 

H V M A N I T A S    I N V I C T A

“Für Gott und Kaiser,”

 

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Hadrian I of the House Horen, by the Grace of GOD, 

Emperor of Man, Holy Imperator, King of Seventis, Salvus, Renatus & Oren, 

Duke of Middelan, Helena, Lorraine, Sunholdt and Reutov, Baron of Pestilles, 

Protector of Grense, Protector of the Heartlanders, Patriarch of House Horen & the Tiberian Dynasty, 

Captain-General of the Church, Defender of the Faith.

BVRGVNDIA IMPERIVM

 

HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Tar-Zôrzagar Argelion Anorion Harren Arthalion, High King of Idunia, Prince of Númendil, Chief of the Númenedain and the Tribe of Harren, Defender of the Númenaranyë, Sovereign of Númenost and Alduun, Knight of the Realm, Slayer of the Gilded Queen, Master of the Sharadûn, Protector of the Adunians

 

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Warclaim Type: Subjugation

 

Tile Goal: alpine_southeast_1

 

Aggressor: The Empire of Man & Allies

 

Defenders: The Grand Kingdom of Urguan & Allies

 

Warpath:

 

All other nation-vassals, provinces and allies will comment on their war-paths below. 

 

 

Spoiler

Good fight, dwarves.

 

[Lenny 1615]

 

 

---

Argelion Zôrzagar, The High King of Idunia, descended from the besieged fort. From the autumn ridges of Alduun to the once-peaks of Númenost, much of this has taken effort—great effort. But it all wanes in the face of his own blood’s presence;

 

My sons.

 

Pharazôn held the left-most cannons with ease. He had never been taught in this manner, it was his first time, and yet he flinched not in the face of the dwarven volley. Was it Malchediael’s presence which bestowed them their courage to stand strong in the face of the faltering footing? Perhaps, or it was Harren's blood. Your time is only nearing, I hope what you learn through these challenges you carry with you. For one day, it shall be you who sits on the throne, my son.

Similarly, did Adûnakhôr clamber onto those siege-ladders before I could even command him, though I struck him across the shoulder after, he laughed. He bears the blood of mine great-grandfathers, Uther and the flock of the Barrowlands … that is certain.

 

Finally, Vârdamir. He carried the dispatches with the flock at his side to send them forth—to spearhead the siege alongside our Imperial allies to guide our own troops. Running beneath fire, and debris, did his blade meet its mark. I asked you why you had not waited for my order, you declared simply couldn’t—it couldn’t wait … You were right. You tend to be. Unfortunately. Continue to envelop that which allows our flock to blossom, the kind-hearted spirit which you have been blessed to carry, there is greatness in your path to be realized.

 

To you, Hadrian. I told you in that war-room, did I not? Slow it down. I have known you since the time before the crown sat upon your brow, there is a particular pride which comes from witnessing those who have shaped another man from the clay of his youth. That pride lives in me now, looking upon what you have built.

The dragon has left its mark, and what our children will inherit is the greatest gift we could ever bestow, the entire world. By blade and covenant, and theirs, god-willing, by the wisdom we were too young and certainly too stubborn to possess of which was granted by our fathers. 

 

“Though a thief may find refuge and the blasphemer speak softly, the Lord’s eye is cast over all sin.”

The High King of Idunia whispered to himself with his grip upon that blade’s hilt which carried the very script whilst he observed the rising ash from the burning banners of Urguan. The blessed silver flames of Malchediael soon subdued, with the conclusion of the march.

His silver gaze soon found itself settled upon the flock of the Idunian, all of which encompassed such cultures; from the Adrians, Petrans, Viruvians, and Scyflings to the Snow Elves and Númenedain. It was no mistake. Though much was different between them, purpose had found them united beneath one banner.

 

Onwards the people of Idunia marched with heraldry raised, alongside their Imperial allies. 

“Nothing will stand in our way.”

 

---

 

 

[Cryptic 549]

"The Lions march to end it all. Glory to Idunia, Glory to Artagnan."

 

Bârathân d'Artagnan declared, marching with those able from his family, alongside the Arthalions.

 

Spoiler

 

[Cheese 8882]

Spoiler

Are the emperor and high king finally coming out….?

 

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

Skull Admiral Kato Ena beats the taiko drum with Raiden's heavy density drum stick during the siege of Cerulia, Oyashiman operators loading and firing their cannons into the fortress they took overlooking the Prismarine city. The deceased machine spirit would have wanted such a conclusion, Ena thought to himself. With one half of the southern Oyashi sea secured, he sends a marine to collect the plans from Shugo Honda for their next plan of action.

 

"Let us make history, cousin. And avenge the dead."

 

@Fishy

[Kardika 1057]

Shamizir the Sanguine looks to his warmap, crossing out the Cerulian province with a red X, an audible gulp escapes his throat. "well... that ain't good huh"

Edited March 7 by Kardika

[Fishy 2709]

Shugo Honda wheezes, pained by the pollen in the Southern Air. While he had mounted the battlements in the assault, he had forgotten to wear his mempo-respirator, soon Honda was taken by his allergies. Only able to offer a vague nod at Ena's direction, the Shugo quickly made for the litter.  

[__Stal27 2126]

“This shall be our final gambit, once that mountain caves… we shall look south no more.”

 

Spoke the High King of Norland, whose words were privy only to those of his council as they stood upon the southern shores. His hand lofting  outwards, stretched as was his gaze before the sun-basked shores.

 

 

[MonteGiant 891]

 

 

↢ ⊰ ☼ ⊱ ↣

 

Thereupon that fateful siege under the blazing sun did Cesari charge alongside that Prince Martinus, his falchion in grasp and his haubergeon ringing with each swaying movement. And there did that Princeling of Savoy hear those words of the Bloodwyrm, “Climb! Breach this fortress!”, and with no risk of himself did that youth, carrying the banner of the black sun, rush upon that dwarven castle- rising as a cascade of fury as trebuchets broke stone upon stone.    He found himself upon those ramparts, and there would that teen of 15 summers find his blade warmed in the blood of his foes, four did he count. Four fell by his hand. One upon that first charge up those ladders, his blade cleaved into their helm, the second was a dwarf attempting to climb back to the safety of his brigade, stopped by a stab in the back by that falchion wrought of castle-forged steel. The third was in the chaos of the full imperial force charging against that brigade, that Savoyard’s blade cleaving the head of one who charged him, upon the end their gorget finished. The last was upon the peak of that Dwarven Fortress, an elf fighting for their life with their spear, but that life would meet its end as that blood of Ashford gave single combat, kicking them flying to the grounds below… the elf turned to paste.   That Fortress had met its end, and the sun had risen upon it, the Black Sun of Savoy’s banner alongside that verdant flag of Lorraine, and that Burgundy flag of the Imperium. . .

 

“Blood For Ashford!”

 

[Baccaaa 490]

Somewhere amidst the aftermath of the orchestre of cannonfire mixed in with the whiz of arrows and bolts, the elven woman of Idunia did visibly return atop her void-dragon, the steepness of the fort having denied her the courtesy of fighting above it besides the initial barrage of projectiles. Though sanguine dots littered her figure they were clearly not hers. Uriella sticked out like a sore thumb among the greater Imperial Host, as a sorceress and elf both in one. With the ice on her hands demanifesting and her tiara re-aligned she would proclaim in breathy tone of exhaustion to those that had rallied beside her, be it other elves or her very constructs: "The notorious fortress and even the more notorious city of Cerulia fell, but I am curious of what comes next. If they even stand a chance anywhere, it is their dwarven hold. The next battle will determine the fate of the continent... talk about decisive." 

[Coronate 5519]

As the Lord Vander from his height pon’ the Command Post blew a golden-lined war horn for the advance into the fortress...
 

A teen boy, Rob, pushed up the siege ladder beside his friend Martinus, his warhammer crushing and cracking into the bodies of limp and dead dwarves.

 

”A True Knight leaves none alive who doth not yield.”

 

@helldiving

 

 

Spoiler

 

[danhjkk 27]

1 hour ago, Cryptic said:

"The Lions march to end it all. Glory to Idunia, Glory to Artagnan."

 

Bârathân d'Artagnan declared, marching with those able from his family, alongside the Arthalions.

 

  Hide contents

 

 

Hilda nodded at Barathan's declaration, marching behind him, clad in Daemonsteel.
"Glory to Idunia! Glory to Artagnan!" 
She echoed, her spirit and thirst for battle set ablaze.

[Islamadon 9158]

Donning Aoguma of sky-blue, the Oyashi, in reverence to the august Yamatai Hatsuhime, make their descent upon the final dwelling of the chibi. With them, thunders the terrible storm of Goro-Goro.

[Morigung-oog 5697]

Somewhere, an elf glanced to her bloodied blade, her wounds tended to by her husband. A smile pulled at her lips. In comparison to the labyrinthian intricacies of politics, those of war were thankfully stark and  rather simple.  Each of her allies were granted a note with no fanfare, no elaborate congratulations, only a rather humorous, casual acknowledgement.

 

"Same time next week, lads?"

[Digit___ 1225]

The Southern exile, Aviel Roy, now reacclimatized to the northern air and culture of the Holy Imperium read of the win within Cerulia’s borders. A victory for the Empire for sure, though he pondered if his friends within the Serene March still drew breath.

 

“The final battles ‘gainst the Dwarves are ‘pon us, victory lies wit’ the fall o’ Kal’Baraz.” The Helfgott Patriarch intoned to himself in the silence of the captain’s cabin of his familial ship, ‘The Menagerie.’ Would he join in these final battles against the Grand Kingdom or continue to cement is family’s presence in their new home? As of current, only GOD knew what the decision would be.