Vege

HIC FINIS EST : The Battle of Curon

“Hic Finis Est.”

Ushered by His Highness, Prince Svenald Staunton, to the invigorated Courlandic forces after the siege of Vasililand.

Courlanidc Longbow men at the Battle of Curon, 1604.

The days turned to weeks, forests plundered and quarries dug as great siege engines mounted with the green and black of the men constructing them rose about the Courlandic camp. Their silhouettes outmatched by the grand magnificence of the mountains they were placed upon. Surrounded by a strong palisade, and flanked by the sharpness of the landscapes features, they stood atop their hill as if to beckon to the enemy of their own defeat.

Spaced not but a few hundred meters away, stood the stark grey walls and yellow banners of the monstrous fortress that had been constructed hastily to quell the green tides rising. A plain structure on the outside, towering above the landscape with huge buttressed walls, the fortress was lined with the ballistas and trebuchets the Haensetic commanders trusted to carry the day and defend their lands.

As the men of each force peered out from their walls, the light glinting off their helmets in a brilliant display of almost starlike twinkling, they prepared for the coming hours. As the first sounds of straining ropes, shouts, and stones being loaded filled the air, it was the Haensetic men who were ready to volley death upon their enemies first. The stones whistling through the air to crush the wooden palisades and siege engines of the Courlandic forces.

In return, the Courlandic forces sent their own stone forth. As they smashed into the stone walls of the fortress, the commanders saw that the Haenseti engineers had built the fortress mostly of stone, with no livable room within. With this knowledge, the men of Courland continued to volley, this time to the roof in order to crush the Haensetic siege engines housed there.

With the hours going by, and the breathes of the operators growing more ragged, the siege engines worked almost tirelessly as stones came down on both armies. Their only rest being when they were destroyed by the enemy, or broken through a malfunction due to heavy use. But it is was the Haensetic forces who soon drew their last stones from their reserves, as the Courlandic forces had been preparing for this day before the battle of Elba and had ample supplies.

With this superiority the men of Courland pelted the walls of the fortress mercilessly, until a tower, finally being knocked of its soundness from the projectiles, collapsed giving the green sea a way to flood the fortress with death.

As the tower fell into the moat, the shouts of ‘Charge’ rose up from the Courlandic camp, as it gave birth to the main force. An ocean of green and black banners raced across the landscape to the broken tower. Here the men stood watching, as great chunks of the ruin came crashing down even still, until it was stable once more. Thus, the vines of Courland crept up the cracked stone to meet the Haensetic defenders who stood on the roof.

With shouts, scraping of metal against stone, and furry did the men first atop the monstrosity meet the Haenseti. Their bravery giving time to those men still climbing the wall to find bearing upon the roof before joining the fray with the same enthusiasm that had followed their campaign from the seat of Aleksandria to the frozen plains of Vasiland.

As the defenders, once joking of the Courlandic forces superiority, now lay dying at the end of Courlandic steel pleading for mercy, the yellow banners were ripped down and replaced with the brilliant green. The men claiming the fortress for their own even as its defenders fought to the end.

The view atop the conquered keep astounded the victors, as they looked out over the barren expanse of snow covered plains wondering who could call this place home. As King Tobias Staunton finished in the ending of his enemies forces, he too would find himself on the ramparts, enjoying the same scene with a humble smile upon his lips.

The true Wardens of the North had come to take their rightful title.

The Unstoppable Tide : The Battle of Curon - Day 1

“I expected more of a fight.”

Ushered by His Majesty, King Tobias Staunton, addressing the Courlandic  forces after the third day of the Battle of Elba.

The muddied pass at the Battle of Curon, littered with Haensetic corpses, 1604.

The wind swept through the crags, cliffs, and gulches of the mountain range, bringing with it the chill of the North as it came down the seaward face that held the winding road to the Kingdom of Haenseti-Ruska. The banners of green and black blowing out, towards the blue of the Krakens of Vanir, beneath the upward ascendance of rock towering above the fire, tents, and carts of the Courlandic army.

Beneath the peaks the men of Courland huddled about their fires, the smell of meat roasting wafted about the camp, as the men watched the morsels turn a golden brown with hungry eyes.

As the day brightened to its full splendor, framed by the majesty of the mountains, the order came through the ranks once more. Abruptly shouts, clangs, and laughter came across the waters as armour was strapped, swords were sharpened, and helmets dawned. As the men gathered behind their palisades and beneath the brilliant green of Courland so too did their commanders, choosing to position themselves in the front of their forces.

As King Tobias Staunton ordered the gates be opened, Edmund Torryn, Gwyntaran of Savoy, Ser Roman Paliaologos, and Sven Staunton came forth leading their men to the unknown road beyond the safety of their camp. Backed by the shining metal and skill of the Courlandic levies, they made their way down the road with swiftness.

As the yellow of the Haensetic forces came into view, shouts of ‘Ave Courland’, ‘Death to Haense’, and battle cries came forth as the vanguard to the bloodshed to follow.

With a thunderous clap, did the opposing forces meet. Hemmed lengthwise by the silent dominance of the mountain range on their left, and the deep blue of the sea on their right, the Courlandic and Haensetic forces were pressed into the smallest front seen thus far in the war. Men who had fought in the battle of Elba but a few months ago, now wished for that openness as ally and enemy were stuck so close swords could barely be used.

Through this limitation, the Courlandic forces did not stall. Instead, the mass of men behind brought with them enough force to push the Haensetics back through shear number. In their wake lay the dead and dying men, cloaked in tabards of yellow, and before them the back of their enemies as they turned to flee in terror of the chaotic surge of green.

Broken within moments of the first clash, the Haensetic forces were minced to pieces, some men barely making it back to their camp before being slaughtered as the men of Courland caught them there. Knowing the battle was lost, even as their men still stood, the General of the Haensetic forces, accompanied by one of his ranking officers, retreated to a secure bunker. Within they huddled in their cowardice, as the men who trusted their lives to them were put to the sword without mercy.

As shouts of ‘Victory’ and ‘Aruu’ came up from the Courlandic men, none of which had even a speck of their own blood upon their tabards, the General and his officer stayed within their dug out bunker, their trowsers stained brown and yellow as if to mimic the kingdom of which they came before they scampered down the tunnels they had made, as rats down the sewer pipes.

As the men began to sort out the loot, Clive the Jester began to do a little dance and a song, filling the air with his mirth and merriment. It was not until nightfall, when the men returned with their bags half filled with Haensetic loot, did Clive stop his song and his dance.

Mutterings of the poor equipment spread across the Courlandic forces as the soldiers wondered if the Great Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska had run out of its own stores and smiths due to the constant defeats, and had to rely on fishmongers to provide their men with armour. Jacque smirked.

No Stone Left Unturned

“As the rats scurry into their hiding holes, we shall follow and smoke them out.”

-Commander Edmund Torryn addressing the Courlandic host after the slaughter at the Battle of Elba.

Courlandic Cavalry lining up before the Battle of Elba.

Circa; 1603

As the daylight came across the great plains of the Heartland, dancing pleasantly across the green and lush landscape, the evidence of the battle held within Elba became clearer than it had been before.

The green grasses and vibrant flowers native to the region gave way to the ripped, and scarred landscape of the battlefield. Bodies still laid half covered by mud and blood, across the lines of battle. Yellow banners, once golden in colour and shining, now were ripped to pieces, bloodstains all too evident of their bearers fates. The Haensetic camp, scorched and smoldering, now home to no army but of the dead men who tried so desperately to halt the Courlandic advance.

Surrounded by the misery of war, the Courlandic men were a stark contrast to the land they helped ruin. Smiling faces, cheerful ‘good morning’s and laughter filled the air about the cook fires as the army stirred from its hard won victory. As the men set about packing their plunder, dismantling their tents, and loading their wagons, the architects of the Courlandic strategy looked on with relief stricken faces. Having spent many an restfulness night, revising and adjusting their plans and formations, training and drilling their levies, or sitting solemnly in contemplation of the coming battle, the sights before them were a well needed relief.

As the day came to its fullness, the Courlandic army was prepared to march North, its caravan loaded with the plunder and wounded returning to Aleksandria while fresh carts and horses carried their supplies forth in the baggage train. As the Stauntonite retinue came to the head of their men to lead them through the Northern pass, cheers erupted down the line as the men caught sight of their great leaders. Riding forth on great warhorses in brilliant regalia, and surrounded by the equally impressive sight of their Pages and Squires, came Edmund Torryn, Glendon Stafford, Abdes de Savin, Frederick Staunton-Baden, and Roman Palaiologos. The great commanders of the Courlandic army waved to their men, but none received as much frenzy or adoration as King Tobias Staunton as he rode his lumbering horse down the marching line in a show of great power, and grace.

With eagerness did the forces begin to move, first through the rocky and encumbering pass to the North, then to the valley beyond. Turning abruptly, once through the mountains, the men of Courland found themselves marching through to the high rock faces, and towering peaks of the mountain range beyond the valley.

Once here, they followed a winding and twisting path, which once manoeuvred through, emptied their host to the banks of the Sea. Here, the men of Courland were closer to the Haensetic lands than they had ever been since the fall of the Orenian Empire, the sting of their peace agreement still burning within many a mans heart. But as their forces came through the mountains, the men knew they would face the first true test of their strength. For while the Courlandic forces were busying themselves putting the sword to the Haensetic forces south, the Lords of Vanir of the March of Vasiland had prepared an impressive fortification to the north in the hopes to quell the Courlandic advance before it breached the Kingdom of Haense-Ruska’s borders.

The green and black banners blowing wildly marked the re-emergence of Courland in the North, their thoughts moving to the claiming of their ancestral title, after relieving the House of Barbanov from their duties, as Wardens of the North.

WARCLAIM

Tier Chosen (This cannot be changed after the first warclaim is held): 1

Type of battle: Siege

Date And Time: March 25th, Saturday 3pm EST, 7pm GMT

Side A: Kingdom of Courland + Allies

Side B: Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska + Allies

Location and boundaries:

Direct Area:

https://gyazo.com/4b19f90261e3f4e41f7dbdd2956aa8f7

Surrounding area of battlefield for reference to location:

https://gyazo.com/1debc1171c4f0c0f8012e6d20fe2bdc4

Terms of Victory

Upon Victory For...

Victory for the Attackers: All Hansetic forces are killed, flee the battlefield or lock themselves underground for over 20 mins.

Victory for the Defenders: All Courlandic forces are killed or flee the battlefield

REWARDS

Offensive Victory: Courland takes Vasililand and may follow on with a siege of the city of Saint Karlsburg.

Defensive Victory: Haense remain in control of the March of Vasiland, and have the option to either skirmish the following week or wait for another siege in two weeks time.

Rules

• No status switching.

• All LoTC rules.

• No golden apples.

• No one day alts.

• TNT enabled.

• No modifications can be made to Vasiland and its surrounding area upon the posting of this warlclaim.

A FINAL OLIVE BRANCH

His majesty King Marius of the dual Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska,

I reach out one final time to the Barbanov Hansetians, the Raevir Lords who sought to draw blood on their fellow man. You’ve stood staunch in the belief that the strength of your levies were sufficient enough to enact bloody retribution on the Kingdom of Courland. Whatever just cause your casus belli draws from is a falsity, and your arrogance in dealing judgement on our peoples through acts of war has been no short of tyrannical and imperialistic. The Kingdom of Haense has fallen spell under some delusion that GOD has sided with your cause, but the events at the battle of Elba proves otherwise.

Scarce years have passed since we first branched out to you, King Marius, peace was extended to you and to the Haensetic nobility. We offered you an escape, reiterating our true desire was to avoid bloodshed entirely. We were certain, by some stretch that your majesty has the same resolve - clearly we were mistaken. We had concluded that the emerging Kingdoms were not the only nations tiring from the woes of war; our resources drained from its sinews, as much as Haense I’m sure. With this letter, it seems that Haense has not had its fill, and again we find ourselves in a similar position. Haense kneels at the mercy of my Kingdom, I’m the judge and the executioner vested with the power over the future of Haense.

With the attacks upon the lands and peoples of the Kingdom of Courland, those who had served me and suffered through tribulations of our first wars, and those that I hold dear. The murder of my nephew Meric Staunton and kidnapping of my niece Annabel Staunton, weighs heavily upon my mind - but these are not the only indignities forced upon my resolution. Also the incessant raiding to the outlying regions of my Kingdom, and the insult offered to us in retort to our merciful actions during the Coalition wars. Many of my privy see me a madman to offer you another escape, for you have forsaken old friendships and forgotten who it was that spared you from the sword.

It is more the nature of your people to grasp grudges as long as you live, measuring each action as a step closer to the eventual delivery of revenge. We do not hold these grudges, and yet through our seemingly endless generosity and fairness, we are always offered the same reassurance that our trust in your ability to maintain peace was misplaced. Your predecessors started this feud, the then Carnatian hounds of the Orenian Empire. The Riga war was a horrific crime against the people of Courland and my House - a stain on your legacy. And whilst we fight not for retribution, it would seem that your defeat at Elba edges us closer to a similar outcome as the Riga war - except it is no longer us who would suffer the defeat.

It is not our desire to annihilate your Kingdom, only to coexist in the realm of man peacefully together. No longer should we spill the blood of one another over wars fought outside of our lifetime. Yet, the crimes of your nation can not go unpunished.

As such, we the Kingdom of Courland offer you the following terms:

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska will offer the Kingdom of Courland 25,000 Minas & two crates of Iron as reparations for the sinew of war.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska will grant the Kingdom of Courland the region of Vasililand and its surrounding lands.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska will grant the Kingdom of Courland the region of Metterden and its surrounding lands.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska shall pledge to stay void of any agreement, pact or offensive war for a period of fifteen years.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska shall offer an apology to House Brawm, and hand over the fugitive Markus Brawm to the Kingdom of Courland to stand Trial.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska shall release the cap of the Hetman to the Kingdom of Courland.

• King Marius of Hanseti-Ruska willingly hands himself over to King Tobias of Courland to answer for the war.

• The Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska is to release 20 of their finest steeds to the Kingdom of Courland.

• The Duke Kovachev willingly hands himself over to King Tobias of Courland to answer for the war.

They are few and fair terms, reasonable considering the circumstances. We have the initiative King Marius, we have the numbers and we have GOD on our side. We will not hesitate, and we hold our sword ready, high above your neck; do not force us into this - for the fate of your Kingdom lies in the decision you make here.

I hope you are met in good health and that for the sake of man, you agree to our peace, for the sake of your people and our own. We expect a response within twelve saints hours.

With Knowledge Comes Power,

Signed,

HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Tobias Staunton, King of Courland, Duke of Eastbourne, Courland, Eruthos, the Heartlands, Frederica, Cascadia, Count of Aleksandria, Riga, Westmark, Beauclair, Sundholt, Wett and Eastmark, Lord of Mt. St. Tobias, Baron of Vsenk, the Rightful Protector of the Heartlanders

THE BATTLE OF ELBA

“Breach them once more! And fear no evil, God will protect his own!”

• Callixtus I speaking to the Courlandic soldiers on the eve of the battle.

Protected only by a narrow strip of pines, the camp lay awake as dusk approached. The host was wrought by exhaustion from their preceding assaults, and their swords bluntened from the cutting of shield and man alike. The King had summoned his commanders, all under the acknowledgement that the gravity of their forthcoming skirmish was truly great, and that the outcome today would shape the war that would follow. Tobias I, had risen to the transgression of the Haensetic King, he’d resigned himself to fighting a war that he had not wished for.

The Wars of the Coalition had taken impact on him; he felt an old man in a younger body, where the strain of dismantling the Empire had ushered him into a desire only for a peaceful realm of man. As weathered as he was, King Tobias nor his brother Sven could have foreseen their peace ending so soon, their experience was great but they still drew sadness from the warmongering of their enemies, those who they had chosen to show mercy. Peace was the aim of the King, and although his dreams had not been realized, he would risk his own to endure them.

“Once more men! Once more.” Sven Staunton roared, striding through the camp in his bloodied mail. His beard was grubby and ripe with the spill of Hansetian levymen, a scar ran from his left eye down to the middle of his cheek. “Muster and sally forth, men of the King!.”The De Savin’s emerged from their tents. The Duke knew that his duty was now, on the brink of battle besides his trusted allies and long serving comrades. Together they would ride out and meet the incursions, standing steadfast in protection of their King and Country.

From within their encampment, the Courlandian retinue gathered. There they prepared for what was to come, sharpening their steel and plating themselves. The gentry commanded over their own levies, slowly moving them from the safety of the wooden battlements into the forest outside. One by one the men, wounds fresh from the days prior, joined the large force in front of the wooden fort. The next assault would be the last, both sides knew such, and prepared all of their men as such.

“De Savins, on the left flank! Frederik, you shall ride with the King down the centre! Count Stafford, cover our right flank!” Sven shouted, riding down the line of shields and pikes, his sword drawn and raised as he maintained the formation of the host. The King’s cousin Frederick moved his own guard to the centre, amongst his regiment a single white horse remained riderless, and followed to the horse of the count. Commotion erupted as the army settled in its formation, cries from the rear of the force grew louder as the King emerged from his tent.  “The King emerges!” whimpered a peasant from the back of the army, as a path slowly evolved around the King.

His mail had fit him well, the silver eagle of Courland was embroidered on his tabard, and it had stayed clean of the blood stains elsewhere. The men around him roared as he removed the greasy fringe hanging down his face from his vision and travelled through a sea of his own towards his command. There he marched, accompanied by his guard, to the helm of his force. Beside him stood his brother, his closest friend and council, of which he had shared both the hardships and spoils of his rise to King. Throughout it all, there was none who King Tobias would have rather stood beside on the fringe of battle. His cousin Frederick sat mounted on his other flank, holding the King’s ivory destrier.

He was mounted, and at once the Courlandian army fell silent. Tobias reared his horse causing it to trot backward in a stumble. He turned to face his men as it regained balance, and began to speak. “Fear not the blade of the Hansetian man. For blood spilled is not in vain. Our god watches our struggle, and he will see our triumph.” Tobias raised his sword, commanding the force to advance through the trees as he continued his speech. “This be not the first time I have asked of your sword in the name of our country, nor will it be the last. But know brothers, that every drop of your blood will bleed through me, in the name of our Kingdom and God.” The line slowly emerged from the forest into a plain, where the tree line began again two hundred metres in front of them. There they stopped, where the King fell silent for a short while.

The plain was tranquil, one would not think that the grassy opening would be the tapestry for a thousand dead men by the time the sun drew from the easter horizon. The King cleared his throat to continue, but halted as the first line of Hansetian infantry emerged from the trees in front of them. “You know what you must do men of Courland.” He’d shout, before he convened with his commanders. Various tactics were hurled to the respective leaders of the units; both forces now stood parallel facing one another, each beginning their walking advances through the opening. As they closened both sped to a run, eventually two unstoppable waves charged to a meeting in the dead centre of the plain.

The flanks of the Duke de Savin and Count Stafford enveloped the Hansetians who maintained a strong and central attack. The Arch-Chancellor Sven and his cavalry rampaged down the middle of the assault, cleaning through the lines of the Hansetian Royal Army and finding the unit situated behind the large majority of the Haensetic army. The Hansetians offered little retort to their surrounding, failing to achieve the upperhand in the fighting. The Courlandians had surrounded them, and continued to barrage their lines with waves of infantry.

The King himself rode amongst the men, his guard slaying the brigands that attempted on his life. The Hansetian armies were being broken down, and their formations scattered throughout a separated and surrounded force. Many fled for the trees behind them. “Forward!” Sven declared, as his cavalry began to chase down those the routed enemy. The remaining De Savin and Stafford men moved their force inward, where Kovac and Ruthern bannermen made a final front on the forces of Staunton. Their final stand stood little resistance against a greater remaining Courland force, and soon it broke for the trees, where the remaining Haensetic army made for retreat.

Onwards the De Savin-Stafford soldiery charged, in pursuit of those who ran. Cries of victory were heard around the remaining Courlandians. Although they would rejoice in this victory, they had not been without their own losses. The spill of Courlandic blood was a strain on the King. How would he bask in the glory of this win, when his own lay cut by the hands of his enemies? He wouldn’t. He would continue with the weight of his triumph and loss, and he’d seek to cut the neck of the Hansetic lords that caused this war. The initiative of this skirmish would prove to be an integral moment in shaping the war, but the war was yet to be won. Onwards with the victory of Courland, with God on their side, peace would be realized soon enough.

Without Mercy : The Battle of Elba - Day 2

“You men who stand with me are the liberators, protectors and the sustainers of Valior. There shall be freedom in life and in death.”

Ushered by His Majesty, King Alexander Staunton, addressing the Coalition forces during the Riga War.

A painting depicting two white Eagles circling the blood stained battlefield, following the decisive second day.

As dawn came over the horizon, bringing with it shining golden rays which played across the dew that had collected on the grass the night before, the shouts, clangs, and ruckus of the Haensetic and Courlandic camps broke the early morning silence.

As tabards were donned over battle tested armour, banners raised over the shining helmets, and formations made upon the now muddy earth, the forces once again formed themselves on opposing sides of the blood soaked earth. The men that had been cut down the previous day lined the ground in a morbid display of where the forces had clashed not but a few hours before.

As the Haensetic Commanders gazed across the field in preparation of their movements, the Courlandic General Edmund Torryn bellowed his orders without a moment's respite after the green line was made. Pouring forth, at the behest of his call, came the rushing tide of green clad men, screaming and chanting ‘Ave Courland’. With the sudden and jarring advance, the Haensetic commanders had no choice but to meet the green sea before they were swallowed up as the day before.

As the forces crashed together upon the reddened earth once more, the now all too familiar sounds of battle lofted to the air. However, with the same suddenness that had brought the green tide of Courland to the yellow fields of Haense, the men of Courland pulled themselves back. Seeming to run back to their camps in fear, the Haensetic commanders ordered their men to advance. And so the Green tide was pushed further and further across the field, the yellow of Haense swallowing up the earth as it drank thirstily of its soon victory.

With their advance, the Haensetic forces came to hold the Chapel. It, although being ruined by the war, was a strong position, and so the Haensetic forces stopped and prepared their defenses in this forward position as they enjoyed the fruits of their laborious task in the field. An error, they would soon learn, as the tides of the green sea once again changed, and with them, the death of many Haensetic men.

Rushing back across the field in a renewed vigour, delighted that the Haensetians had fallen into their trap, the men of Courland came. So quickly, in fact, that the Haensetic men held within the Chapel soon found themselves surrounded. With terrified eyes they scanned for retreat, but were only met with the forest of the green tabards of Courland. And so the stranded men fought, surrounded as they were, to the end. Their slaughter easily done by the superior manpower of Courland.

With this crushing blow, the Haensetic forces once again collapsed. Their main force taken to the earth as the Chapel once again fell into the hands of Courland. The Haensetic Commanders, left in astonishment, called for a retreat for the day in order to recuperate themselves.

As banners of green and black were raised above the fields for the second time, the men of Courland came to camp with Haensetic loot. Albeit, their sacks less empty than before as the Haensetic forces reserves were dwindling from the consecutive losses.

As the sun set on the second day, the field fell quiet once more. The men of Courland were filled with confidence and pride as the pinnacle engagement the Battle of Elba dawned.

A Clashing of Swords : The Battle of Elba - Day 1

“Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.”

Ushered by His Majesty, King Tobias Staunton, amongst his men upon the field of war.

The clashing between Haensetic horde and Courlandic infantry.

A cool breeze traced itself across the fields and through the trees of Tahn, rushing past the tents, banners, and men of the Courlandic army as it went. Banners of green and black, red and yellow, black and white, yellow and black, carelessly drifted above at the end of their poles, the dyed tabards of green and black almost glistening as the dew on the grass.

An idyllic silence enveloped the company as they marched to meet the Haensetic forces, the Stauntonite retinue led by Commander Edmund Torrent. They passed the farmland surrounding Aleksandria, now filled with hopeful faces and cheers of ‘Ave Courland’.

Weaving their way to the boats lining the shore, the men began to embark. Their faces marked by the unknown outcome of their journey as they loaded the weapons, armour, and food they would need to put the sword to their enemies.

As the boats lifted their moorings, and began to take to the sea, hundreds of men, women, and children watched the brilliant green of their sails pass from eyeshot. Some still cheering, others waving until their arms grew sore.

Upon spying the shore of Tahn, did Commander Edmund Torrent send out word to make themselves ready, and with it came a sudden bustle of movement across the fleet. Men grabbing their weapons, donning their armour, praying, and nervously laughing spread like a wildfire from the Command ship. By the time the ships sank anchor near the shore, the boats that would ferry the men to the land were filled with the gleam of metal.

From their landing point, the army quickly formed itself and began moving inland. Through the overgrown fields of the crater once known as Johannesburg. The men glancing to the direction of the pit with worry for the blue death that resided there, but also pride, as they knew their might had proven greater than a supposedly mighty Empire now crushed beneath their very boots.

Upon coming to the battlefield, Commander Torrent had the men form their lines. The men fanning out across the plains, nearly lost themselves in it against their tabards and banners. With their full force positioned and anxiously awaiting the order to advance, the men of Courland were ready.

Across the field, they could see the Yellow banners of the Haensetic forces billowing from their poles, marking their position. And so the call to advance went out on both ends of the battlefield, the armies coming together for a bloody meeting.

Pikes, spears, swords, and arrows met their targets, as men screamed in pain and rage as the forces clashed. The dead had barely enough room to fall as the press pushed against itself, the living became a mass of flesh and metal.

The first moments of battle had little gain on either end, the men of both armies well experienced in warfare and unrelenting to their enemy. But as the battle drew on, the green of Courland soon began to grow within the yellow ranks, pushing the men of Haense further from the center. By midday the Haensetic forces were upon their own encampment, pressed on by the Courlandic soldiers as the blood ran deep about their feet.

With determination the Haensetic forces tried to hold onto every inch of dirt they could, and with martial ability did the Courlandic forces take it. As pockets of Haense men were found, they were exterminated, by sword or fire they were engulfed by the green tide as it swept the field.

By the end of the day, the Haensetic forces were struggling to maintain the security of their camp, while the Courlandic forces held the entirety of the field beyond it. With cheers did the men meet the night, shouts of ‘Victory’ could be heard for miles about as the Courlandic forces celebrated, their Commander pleasantly smiling at his accomplishment.

As the men of Courland returned to their camp to wait out the night, many dragged great bundles of Haensetic armours and weapons. The treasures of a hard won battle were all about the men as they settled inside their tents.

As the sun set, the field fell quiet once more. The men on both sides of the war knew that it was far from over, but it was the Courlanders who had this first day.

“One day they shall pay.” - Duke Aleksander Staunton, as he and his entourage flee the burning city of Riga.

The victorious Courlandic forces at the battle of Westmark, circa. 1563.

Forty years had passed since the Riga War, when the North broke out in civil war, and the righteous Courlanders capitalized upon their right to freedom and seceded from the Empire. In all that time, the fire of Courland remained bright, vibrant, and alight. Though the ruins of Riga may fade, the name of Staunton shall never.

Carnatia, and it’s Hanseti successor state, had defeated the Courlandic people so decisively, it thought that no threat could ever arise from there again. Their genocides; their slaughters; their brutal and ruthless tricks; all failed in the face of true bravery and courage when the Courlandic peoples revolted, driving out their oppressors and establishing their mighty nation once more.

Haense thought they could escape the righteous vengeance of their long-forgotten rival. Courland has not forgotten. Courland will not forget, until the Hansetii perish in the thousands; until their homes burn like great pyres, as Riga did; and until the orchestrators of the massacres in the Curon Forest, in the Kraken’s Watch and in Courland paid for their extermination with their houses’s death.

One day they would pay, the Duke Aleksander once said.

That day had come.

WARCLAIM

Tier Chosen (This cannot be changed after the first warclaim is held): 1

Type of battle: Skirmish

Date And Time: 3PM EST,  SAT 18th of March 2017

Side A: [Initiators] Kingdom of Courland + Allies

Side B: [Receivers] Kingdom of Haense + Allies

Location and boundaries:

Direct Area: http://imgur.com/a/NHmDk

Surrounding area of battlefield for reference to location: http://imgur.com/a/V9Jhp

Terms of Victory

Victory for the Attackers: All Haensetian forces are killed or driven from the battlefield.

Victory for the Defenders: All Courlandic forces are killed or driven from the battlefield.

Upon Victory For…

Side A: The Kingdom of Courland has the right to establish a siege camp outside the Barony to the north of the skirmish location and may siege the following week.

Side B: The Kingdom of Courland may not warclaim the Kingdom of Haense for two weeks.

Rules

- No status switching.

- All LoTC Rules

- No TNT

-Only the addition of sensible defenses that are moderator approved may be added.

- Items may not be removed, starting from the posting of this warclaim.

- If Haense does not attend, the Barony is forfeit to the Kingdom of Courland.

-No Golden Apples

- Rolling to capture leaders allowed

- No alts or one day alts.