yeeter2k

Tears befell the young prince as he read the letter from his beloved sibling. A surge of feelings mixed within him. Anger, guilt, sadness; he couldn't quite tell which it was, but each of them seemed to take turns occupying the lion's share of his thoughts. "Damn it all! We were meant to stand together clad in that blackened armor, and I looked forward to the day! God, why!?" The teardrops continued to flow down his face, leaving the brother's eyes reddened and bloodshot as he ruffled through his hair thinking over it all. "I should have been there... I should have done something...." Rodimar would remember this day, and what came before it. He'd swear to protect those nearest to him, to not let them suffer the same fates as his sibling and father.

THE AETHELING’S ASCENT DER AUFSTEIG DES AETHELINGS | AN AETHELING’S ASCENT Issued by THE PRINCE IN REINMAR In the year of our Lord 2079 ÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON REINMAR, I HAVE WANDERED ABOUT THE VOICELESS HALLS OF MY FATHER’S LAND FOR TOO LONG, and with it came only a quick realization. Retreating for these many days to my scriptures, it must be grasped that as the prince cannot stand to gain from this; nor can the kinsmen I aim so eagerly to honor. I realized then that I had to awaken from my dormancy, for the tribe needs not a prince who sits idly by. The many months after my late forebear’s passing had left me adrift, and it is because of this we have been left without direction in this plight. However it is today that this shall be subject to change, as the light of God’s beacon in the skies has given me much hope for the tribe. As I exit from my hall atop the mount from whence I was brought into the world a mere eaglet, and emerge now an eagle. Our iron has begun to rust, the oak of the shields have begun to rot, and it is with this notion I declare there shall be a shifting in direction from which our shields hastily approach. The sacred moot hall shall roar with the voices of the Reinmaren, and there will be debate. My council shall be set in stone, and the warriors and laborers of my tribe will see their voices heard to the ear of the chieftain and the lawspeaker of the tribe. Wisdom will be passed forth to those seeking it with both head and heart. Blades will be reforged, much as the mind. Shields will be granted an immense and unmatchable sum of fortitude again, as will the heart; and the manes of our steeds will glisten like the golden fields of wheat that line Leonstadt. Be not late, and forget not the importance of this moot, for the tribe will prosper greatly under our kinsmen’s guidance. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET HIS HIGHNESS, RODIMAR I, GMSTSR, Prince in Reinmar, Prince of Sutica and Minitz, Duke of Reinmar, Count of Kretzen, Neu Brandthof and Freimark, Burgrave of Langenkirch, Viscount of Tucay, Baron of Freising, Madvon, and Boriënwald, Lord of Sankt Johannsburg, Freisburg, Wilheburg, Rozenfeld, Erwinsburg, Leonstadt, Neuberg, Durres, and Holsord, High Chief of the Reinmaren

Rodimar, son of the late Prince in Reinmar, Siegfried, stood at the coast of Kanunsberg, next to the lighthouse where he and his friend Gundobad had stood once before overlooking the vast sea as the waves crashed into the jagged rocks lining their coast. This time, however, he stood alone pondering what allowed such a cruel fate to befall upon his father and leave him next to lead the tribe in the years ahead. Many thoughts materialized within his consciousness; some his own memories, others simply the words he had received from others in the past, from these thoughts eventually came only one thing... Peace... It seemed so distant in the years before, but with the sound of the crashing waves, the wind blowing his fair about, he felt a new kind of peace though his grieving that he had not once found in the past. Though, something stirred within his soul, a feeling that what was to come in the future would undo this Pax Imperia. He would need to take heed the advice he had been given from the Lawspeaker of Reinmar, from his closest of friends, his warriors, the knight who had squired him thus far. It would surely come handy to assist him in the future, for whatever lay ahead. For now, the boy planned to continue his lessons with the blade, and to ensure he would be ready for the day that hopefully in time he would avenge his father's death to the foul spawn that slew him. He walked his way back up the coastline, gripping the reins of his pale white steed as he rode his way past the green fields to Leonstadt. It seemed as though the wind blew with much more force than it had under the cover of the hill rested next to the shores. "Ride with haste, Hengist, for there is much to be done. You shall aid me in carving the tribe's future ahead."

Rodimar Barclay read the missive, somewhat confused as he continued to read on. He stood from his seat and made his way to the barracks to check if anyone had possibly stolen a suit of armor but found the stores untouched. How this could have happened left him rather baffled. He decided then that it would be no trouble to clear things up with their neighbors atop the mountain where Lorraine once stood. "Perhaps breaking bread would do us some good. All will be sorted and the good graces of the Chief of Chiefs will make all right again." He decided then to make his way back to the keep for a night's rest before he'd plan to meet with the Hartwells, though he struggled to rest, wondering still perhaps if the walls were compromised and someone had stolen from their armorer. It would all come to him when he awoke, surely.

Aerik celebrated, eagerly rushing to Wesenburg to share the news with his father Oswald and his Uncle Varik!

"I offer my congratulations, good Othmar! May your house prosper with this excellent news." Aerik rejoiced upon seeing the missive.

"I suppose we could always have two..." An aged Reinmaren knight pondered the idea of the Barclays having another Sutica title, scratching his chin.

In the lands of Wesenburg, a now middle-aged Aerik von Wesenburg recieved the word of the Chieftain's passing. He poured himself a drink, sitting in the empty halls of his keep, reminiscing on his memories of Erwin's rule... "An excellent Chieftain to the end..." He paused for a moment to sip. "I may hope to strive to achieve what he has for our tribe. Alas, I can only hope..."

Good Riddance. Telanir brings us good tidings once again.

why, we're flattered!

Aerik von Wesenburg packed his bags for the capital, preparing for the journey to swear fealty to the new Chief of Chiefs. "Hail to Hadrian! May our tribes serve him well in the shield walls!"

"Hail to the Chief of Chiefs!" While hearing of the news from the confines of his keep, Aerik von Wesenburg lifted his spear and shield upward as one last hurrah to the Emperor Tiberias I. He then began to pack a bag for a future visit to the capital to pay his respects. "And now, hail to his heir, Hadrian Tiberias."

"Excellent, most excellent." Aerik von Wesenburg, Burgrave of Wesenburg, stated upon the matter as he enjoyed a glass of whiskey in his keep's dining hall. "An alliance much worth waiting for."

Sir Johann von Weisenstein wept, for of all the threats he could defend the Furst and Fursten from, age was not amongst them... he raised a fist to his chest, recalling the motto of the Reinmaren warriors. "Wer Rastet, Der Rostet."

Aerik von Wesenburg prepares excitedly to travel for Kretzenfest, trying to choose which outfit looks nicer to wear for such an occasion. "I have waited so very long for this to happen once again."

FULL NAME: Johann von Weisenstein AGE: 69 PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Templarism, Soldiery, Alchemy, Hunting. SIGNED NAME: METHOD OF CONTACT: yeeterthethird (discord), YeeterTheThird (IGN)

A record of the tribe of Galdemar, retold by Aerik Leon von Wesenburg Published 8th of Harren’s Folly, 2050 It was during my journey to the islands of Kalldur I chanced upon in my bloodline’s hoardings a tale most intriguing; that of my eldest of ancestors, Galdemar and his closest of retainers, ancient allies of the Theoderikin and Gelimarssons of the bygone era. Do partake in the fruits of my labor, for it is a tale much worth lending an ear to. It was during the times of great figures such as the chieftains Theoderic and Gelimar, whom in their feuding over the bounty of a raid on Raevir lands found union amongst the period of many Waldenian tribes being forced under the blade or the cross, that a chieftain known by many as Galdemar arose. Galdemar and his ilk were raised by the way of the sea, taught the practices of shipbuilding and of sailing. Many during this age praised Galdemar’s ancestors for their knowledge of the sea, for which they were often recruited by neighboring Waldenian tribes for assistance during raids along the riverlands and coastal fortresses that seemed impenetrable to the many warbands of the land. It was through this expertise they gained a sizable aggregation of riches in coinage, weaponry, and supply. However, it was to come with such riches, that many would grow envious of their bounty, including the closest of kin. It was upon the night on which Galdemar’s father, Chieftain Sigimer, was ailing greatly and before his passing wished to name the next leader of the Galts. It was upon this decision that due to Galdemar’s superiority in strength and in charm, he was able to secure his seat as the next chieftain. This decision would ultimately be his undoing however, as his brother Ricimer, the more intellectual of the two brothers, would grow jealous of his younger sibling. He seethed at the notion of the eldest not succeeding his father, and thus he began to scheme against his own kinsman… Ricimer immediately began to work alongside a great and powerful neighboring Waldenian tribe, promising offerings of his tribe’s great riches to prop himself up into the title of Chieftain that his brother had currently held. He then returned home with only his closest retainers aware of this most shameful scheme. It was many months after that Galdemar held a feast to celebrate his recent victories alongside his brother and the rest of the tribe that Ricimer’s retainers treacherously opened the gates of the Galtic city to the enemy. Galdemar’s retainers and loyal warriors were quickly overrun by the larger force, as they were ill-prepared and with Ricimer’s betrayal had lacked the defenses to keep the enemy at bay. Shortly after this defeat, Galdemar, his kinsmen, and those who remained loyal to him were exiled, banished from ever returning to their ancestral lands; a great mark of shame upon the tribe. Ricimer usurped his younger brother’s position as chieftain and gifted a large sum of the Galts’ treasures to those who helped him, he, however, was unaware of his own retainers’ ambitions and soon he would be put to the sword as what remained of Ricimer’s lands would descend into infighting and would soon be absorbed by their neighbors. Galdemar, now set upon the seas in search of a new homeland, was resting in a cape when he would soon receive the news of his elder brother’s passing. Galdemar, in a burst of emotion, wept, for despite his brother’s betrayal, he remained ever memorable of his battles alongside Ricimer, the nights they spent away in the tavern reminiscing of their victories. He secluded himself to his tent where they rested in the cape, and it seemed all were lost for the Galts. They had lost their homeland, their throne, and all that remained were those that left with Galdemar. After many endless nights of Galdemar secluding himself in the midst of his sorrows and the warband growing ever weary with the endless great storms taking their toll upon the fleet’s condition, the grandest of miracles approached Galdemar one night; a constellation of stars seemed to shine brighter than most, with the shape resembling that of a river. Galdemar quickly took this as a sign, and after a few days and nights of repairs, set a course for the open sea once more. The coast of the lands they sailed seemed endlessly hopeless, with the river deltas they came across either leading to fortified settlements that spelled only death for them, or being too narrow to properly traverse. However eventually they would happen across a grand river with calm enough waters to sail upwards against the current. The surrounding lands stunningly lacked any settlements, and Galdemar took this to be the river he had seen many nights before in the sky’s constellations. His ships made way to the river, and began to traverse the length of the waters. As they continued upstream, they would soon come to find that with this river would also come hardships they would have to face, skirmishes with tribes along the river, rough waters that at times seemed almost too rocky to continue upwards, and the greatest of their hardships came when they crossed upon a keep containing large chains that blockaded their fleet from continuing its course. Galdemar and his closest of advisors gathered upon the discovery of this great obstacle, with some suggesting to negotiate with the keep’s defenders and others recommending a full-scale assault upon the keep’s walls with improvised rams and ladders from the nearby trees. Ultimately, the chieftain, being a man of great strength, decided on an assault upon the keeps defenses. However, while not being as capable in intellect as his late brother, he was cunning and could make excellent plans as well, as he was still a sharp commander in his time before his father’s passing. He devised an excellent plan, in which they would not have to leave their ships nor would they have to risk a great number of casualties securing control of the river’s defenses. He had his warband secure logs from the nearby forest, and constructed temporary roofs upon their warships, allowing them to work away at the chains without being at risk of a deadly volley from the keep’s defenders. When the day of the assault came, Galdemar’s ships advanced, approaching the grand keep and its seemingly unbeatable fortifications. ⚞THUD!⚟ In quick succession, one after another, arrow after arrow made impact with the sturdy roofs of the chieftain’s fleet, some making their mark and striking the occasional warriors who had been cursed by the gods of old to such an unfortunate fate. Losses would begin to ramp up as they approached the chain’s defenses and the fortifications of the keep continued loosening their bows upon the roofed warships. Fortunately for the courageous Galtic warriors, the time came that they finally reached the naval chains, and the bravest of the men began to work away at the hard iron. It took its toll upon the valiant warband, but eventually the chain was broken and the grand fleet passed onwards to new horizons. A grand victory was well needed after such a toilsome journey up the river, and the warband’s morale grew tenfold that of before; Galdemar was hailed as a chieftain worthy of praise, and they continued onwards to find that which the chieftain was promised in his miracle. A new home was soon to find them, whether they were aware of this was to be discovered in the coming moons as they traversed through the flatlands along the river. After a brief stop to bury their dead, the fleet continued on its path, and the wooden roofs were rid of. Many were pleased to be done with the hardships of before, and there were much times the sailors took rests and set temporary camps upon the riverside it was a joyous moment, though when it came night, the many tribesmen set in camp were set upon by a large force, the men were awoken to grab their arms, and the women and children gathered in the ships to find that little shelter from the assailants there was. All seemed lost, as the attackers began to circle the camp’s shoddy defenses and the Chieftain readied himself to die in glorious combat. He stood upon the palisade walls, and it was in this moment that he caught his first glimpse of the besiegers of his camp: a warband clad in blue, and emerging from its ranks were a rider of stocky build and clad in a chieftain’s armor much similar as that which Galdemar wore upon his person. He spoke loudly, that which could compare to a ferocious but courageous beast. The armored chieftain stated clearly, for them to speak their reasoning for their trespass before they were subject to the mass of horsemen to be set upon their walls and hastily tear down their camp. Galdemar however was not a fool, and realized that this man was a chieftain of valour and would hear him within reason should he not be a deceitful raider seeking to save the hide upon his skull from being taken as a trophy. He held back the sweat which were falling down his visage and plainly but firmly brought forth his reasoning, and to sweeten the ever-fragile negotiations, he offered his sails to assist the blue-clad army that were surrounding them. It was upon Galdemar’s disclosing of his plight that the man offered a nod, and waved for his men to settle their javelins. Galdemar and his retainers stepped forth from his defenses and following this the chieftain upon his horse dismounted and followed that which Galdemar had done. Thus began the meeting of two grand chieftains of old… Galdemar : “I shall speak only truth to you, as my ancestors have done for many in the past, I am Galdemar, chieftain of the Galts. I lost my land and many good men to a brother who sought himself the rightful chieftain. Now he has paid the most ultimate blood price. I and my warband are all that remains of the renowned tribe. I ask of your name, chieftain, and request of you to see past our trespassing, for it was revealed to me I would find a homeland for my kinsmen, one free of the troubles our kind has been subject to for far too long in the current season.” Theoderic : “Do not find yourself pleading for forgiveness, for you are my equal, Chieftain. I have borne witness that you have a sizable fleet, and many men capable of navigating them through these waters. I could make great use of your warband, and I would prefer more allies in these times than ever, for it is in these lands that many are forced to give up their traditions, turn away from the old gods, whether it be willingly or forced, many suffer. My horsemen are only as good as the land they walk on, this is an unfortunate circumstance, for if they walked on water I’d be capable to raid a great city, and use its plunder to rid of the canonist menace, and make use of my allies so that we are not swept under the great seas of change. Tell me honestly, and without stutter, chieftain. Will you offer your ships to assist me? You may find yourself home under my service, you will serve the Reinmaren, and in turn they will reward you greatly, for an ally of my kin is not forgotten, so long as they are brave men, and men of integrity.” Theoderic motioned toward his horsemen, a gap forming in which a contingent of the warband emerged. Another group of retainers and a man clad in armor fit only for a chieftain stepped forward. They donned green however, unlike the men of Theoderic. He turned back to face Galdemar and introduced him to the men who had just stepped forward toward the two groups, who remained still like statues, yet stared into their souls as hawks would. Theoderic : “This man and his warband are all I have to rely on at the moment, Gelimar and I once feuded many times, for we could not agree on the matters of a great plunder while assisting a great chieftain by the name of Jorik. It was with this pretense we warred for many years, until we came to the realization our fields yielded less crop, our warriors grew feeble, and our hearths grew ever colder each winter. I wed my son to Gelimar’s daughter, and we found peace, with the ever looming threat of the canonists and with the Waldenian tribes being more fractured than ever, we have taken to the way of the horse, relying on plunder to get by. The canonists have taken note of this, and fortify their cities upon the river, making it ever more difficult to pillage and loot for survival. Your fleet could be our miracle we have been searching for, your fleets would allow us to reach lands we thought unreachable in the past, and it would ensure the survival of Waldenia for centuries to come. We approach you in a similar situation as yours, for our home is long lost, and we must find new ways to survive in this accursed age.” Galdemar’s retainers whispered amongst themselves as though they were in a king’s court, with only the wave of Galdemar’s hand toward them reprieving the group with silence… It was then that the chieftain of the Galts made his decision. Galdemar : “Your condition rings ever true to me, chieftains. I understand your people are of the same stock as mine, strong, honest, and ever willing to stand strongly next to an ally. Your warband will be joined with mine, and our ships will carry us forwards so that the tradition of our people does not die out and be lost by the blades nor diplomats of canondom. Let us be hasty to build more ships for your band, so that we may escape the chasing of those who have already converted or stand on the other side of the flowing waters wishing to strike us down into obscurity, the mead halls will continue to speak our legend for generations to come.” It was then that the three extracted their blades, and met in the center with their retainers to form an alliance of the three. The Gelimaren, Theoderikin, and Galts now stood as one, as the Reinmaren. Galdemar’s warband set out immediately toward the forests nearby to build a more sizable fleet for the three warbands to sail with, for much would come to face them in the years ahead. Once all was done, they loaded onto the ships, and set course once more for lands that promised them endless lands to keep their people fed and their coffers forever full. And thus Galdemar’s Saga merged with that of the Reinmaren, forever an ally of the times long before… His Lordship, Aerik von Wesenburg Burgrave of Wesenburg