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Found 6 results

  1. Fürstliches Tagebuch An excerpt from the diary of Leon Anton Barclay Medieval II Total War Music "The Widow" While I am thrilled by our new keep and the city of Kretzen, I cannot get over my sorrow of losing Castle Kanunsberg. There I was born, and so were my children. In this new keep and its splendid gardens, I have found myself thinking of all the things I’d trade away if it meant somehow retaining my keep. Alas, my own desires matter naught when it comes to my people's and nation's prosperity. Besides, I am sure this keep will make my children and household a fine home. My wife has taken to assembling a court—the Heather Court, she calls it, after the abundance of heather flowers in our gardens. While I am one for a more fierce name, I find her choice quaint, so I will not demand any alterations. She desires to make my sister Gertrude a lady of the court. I subscribe to this vision as I could not imagine my sister in any other sort of position. I am fond of Gertrude, and I wish for her to remain close. The army has prospered in our new home within the Evergreens. I am proud of our Marshal and his management of the Host. As for the knights, I lament that they haven’t castles or halls of their own to manage yet. In time, I’m sure, we can provide them with a place of their own. I have found that Chancellor Roland is one of the most capable men in our realm. A man of humble beginnings, he has found himself as the Ernstkanzler of our nation through his service to the crowns. He is diligent and a fine Reinmaren. I am glad I have made him a geehrte, and that cousin Alfred and I have allowed him a fine home within the city. Cousin Adelmar and I have butted heads numerous times as Reinmaren brothers do. We have dueled, argued, and had animosity for each other but always come together as brothers, so we have sworn a blood oath and constructed a runestone cementing our brotherhood. I have much love for him; he is as much me as I am him. My son is quite willful, much like I was as a child. I have found that he requires discipline and punishments often. Despite these qualities, I am sure Adalfriede and I can mold him into a proper Reinmaren chieftain. My daughter Josefina is far too young for me to judge her, but Rosalyn, I have found, is quite astute for her age but meek. As she ages, my wife and I will ensure she becomes as willful as all Reinmaren should be. I pray and believe that our people shall prosper here in our new home in the Evergreens. With Alfred and I as their chieftains, our unified tribes shall have strong guides. The venerable ancestors smile upon me, I’m sure.
  2. Below is an excerpt from the personal diary of Leon Barclay [!] Today was my second battle. We once again saw victory over the vile warbands of Veletz, Stassion, and Krugmar. I remember rallying the banners of Minitz in Kanunsberg, whilst Cousin Alfred brought his host. His face is not one I’d forget. He’s a glum and hardy looking man, he boasts numerous scars from conflicts and disputes. He bears the gaunt features that soldiers often have after a long campaign. He’s been fighting the enemies of Reinmar as long as I’ve been alive. We spoke and drank wine together in the tavern, and our men joined us. Once we were called to do so, we parted ways, I joined the King’s army in Whitespire, and Alfred went to join his own liege’s host. I felt much pride as I was bid to ride next to King John and the Knights of Saint Godwin, though tension also rose as the impending siege grew close. I spoke with my Herrenmeister, Sir Stanton, about the battle. We discussed tactics, troop placements, and the keep we were determined to take. I had the same sort of discussion with my Chancellor, Roland. They are both men with illuminating insights on the subject of warfare, I find them much more adept at command than myself. Once the royal army and men of Aaun marched into the Coalition’s camp, I gathered my host and made sure they were prepared. I met with Cousin Alfred once again, this time at his tent, and we spoke to the Warchief, Wilhelm. I then met with Uncle Gottfried. He spoke with me some about the cannons on our battlements, and the trebuchets on the enemy’s. He compared the two, before explaining to me the importance of siege engines. It wasn’t long after that conversation that the Siege of Fredericksburg began. I scrambled to join the men operating the cannons. I carried the rounds, and helped the cannoneers load their shots. I have never heard anything louder than those cannons, the sheer cacophony is enough to ring in a man’s head for decades. Once we had destroyed the enemy’s engines and punctured their palisades of dirt and stone, we surged forward. I remember the men who led the charge, ladders carried upon their shoulders. They darted through cannonfire and mounted their ladders upon the walls, allowing our men to climb up and breach the keep. I joined the contingent of men who climbed up from the inside of the keep, fighting on the battlements. Despite all the training and the bit of battle experience I have gained, I still find myself a poor match against the seasoned soldiers in this war. Once we had taken the battlements, I took a moment of respite. I caught some of our fallen in my eye, and sorrow filled me. They were martyrs of a righteous cause. I didn’t have much time to rest, but was grateful for the spare few minutes I was allowed. We then went through the keep, cutting down any defender we found. The castle was secure, but the plains it overlooked had many mounted men-at-arms. They went through, fighting each other as we watched on. As our cavalry saw success, the commanders had discussed what to do for a time. Once the time was right, we sallied out from the captured keep, set on engaging what was left of the enemy host. It was not long until we saw complete victory after our charge. We had put the enemy to the sword, those that managed to survive routed. The men of the Coalition gathered, triumphant and joyous. I met with my grandfather, and his praise for my efforts further steeled my resolve to dig out the Veletzian scourge from the realms of Canondom. Once the rallied armies had begun to separate, mine and my cousin’s hosts made their way to Kanunsberg, the warriors of Reinmar and Minitz celebrated together, whilst I met with my kinsmen and discussed our next move.
  3. A faint salty aroma comes from these water-stainded pages Diary of Fagh 10th of The Amber Cold, SA 162 The stale and damp air ot the mines was starting to get to my head, and was making my thoughts more foggy, but not in a fun way like when smoking a good Jungle Kush. I didn't want to give up on helping the horde, but I also didn't want to die suffocated in the mines. So I went fishing. The desert is not known for their great sources of water, and even less for his waterborne creatures, so I started travelling south along the coast, and found a quiet spot to fish, not much visited and not so hot as the heart of the desert, mostly thank to the sea breeze, praise Ankrus. When I was a little cub, I had to fend for myself and hunted fish only on shallow rivers and with my bare hands, but now that I got a new family at Orcgrimmar, I could finally afford a proper fishing gear, with a net, a pole and a bag for my findings. The change of air was really doing wonders, and even though my findings consisted mostly of lost peglegs, rugged flags and other junk, I managed to find some good fishes and have a nice change of pace. I even managed to find a beautiful round pearl!: it was as smooth as an olog brain and had a emerald hue. I was so exited that I showed It to Grommash, our great Rex: he seemed to have liked it, so I wanted to give it to him, but he gave me an even better idea! I'll soon go to our weponsmiths and ask them to make a fine pece of jewelery with it. But in the meanwhile, we grind and we fish!
  4. These pages are extracts from Fagh's notebook, the writing looks more carefully done and with less smidges than other previous notes. Diary of Fagh 16th The of the Grand Harvest, SA 160 Never knew much about our spirits until some years ago, and I didn't know much about how others view spirits: when the Mothsam accompanied me for the first time to Rahtu-ma, I only knew of our way, our culture, and it was taught to me that it was all that I needed for it was the will of Krug. Also, from my understanding, our Rex and Rahtu-ma do not get along very well, so the decision of is own advisor to expose me to that culture was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Why? Maybe because I asked him for some foreign understanding, but he could have gone with the elves, who have great shamans too, like Ember. Instead he chose Rahtu-ma. Atemu-Ta is what they would call the Pharaoh of their people, the leader and a powerful Netjer, which is apparently a couterpart of our shamans, but more religion-oriented. He is a very serious elf, but has always been polite and helpful to me, and even though our cultures may differ greatly he made the effort to make me understand and learn. Mind you, I'm still going to follow the will of Krug, and will always consider him greater, but it was also polite for me to pay respects to the gods he was so thuroughfully explaining to me-ah yes, Rahtu-mans consider them gods, not spirits. this was a distincion that Atemu deemed very important. He firstly taught me of Tetu, a Sphinx that protects their city against their spiritual enemies, then of his wife Kalthet that helps more in times of war: even through our differences, we at least have a common enemy that they call Isfet and we call buurz, but it's just chaos with different names. He then brought me into this fancy shrine to a goddes tho them most dear: Ahura-ma, the goddes of freedom, which her priesthood hepled to abolish slavery and servitude. We also don't have slavery anymore, and I'm too young to remember a time when it was still done, but it's not as big of a deal as the Rahtu-mans. Their gods, as our spirits, are not always in agreement with each other, and an example of this is Ahura-ma and Hestor, the god of purity and healing: the first believes in freedom above all, and would prefer to kill rather than imprison or take away the freedom of anyone, even the buurz, but Hestor seeks to purify and eventually capturing darkspawn for sacrifice, wich takes away their (not so deserved in my opinion) freedom and goes in contrast with the basic principles of Ahura-ma. He then brought me into this very fancy shrine, it had tall walls and the roof painted as the desert night sky: it was the shrine of Ka-tau, their most important god, lord of sunlight and creation. The huge statue depicting him had a flaming staff they called Ankh. which means life to them. It was very curiuos to me, seeing all that similarities and differences between our spirits and their gods, none of them less tue then the other, but clearly given a different importance. He then showed to me the shrine of Hestor, with fountains of clear water and a countinous, faint sound of cow hooves. She is a bovine purifier, and a fierce enemy of buurz. This is also why the shrine was well protected, as it was the primary target of attacks from various chaos forces. We also have a spirit called Scorthuz, that is more of an unforgiving buurz hunter and has water as his symbol of purification and cleansing. I will seek on learning further of that and more, for my neverending curiosity, the sake of communing better with the spirits and for maybe appease Theruz, the spirit of Knowledge and intellect.
  5. Entry 14 of The Frankland Diaries Below is an excerpt from the personal diary of Leon Barclay [!] I had never engaged the Franks before that day. I, nor my father, Grand Prince Ferdinand, expected a fight. I was told stories, but I had always dismissed them as exaggeration. Quickly, I learned that I was mistaken. We were supposed to meet with an “informant” in a secluded thicket in the Franklands near the keep of Velen. We were urged to dispose of our weapons before the rendezvous and, trusting our would-be allies, we obliged. During the meeting, I admit, my mind wandered. I regret that. We should've known that diplomacy, peace, and decency are all alien to these savage peoples. As my father spoke with this "informant", he was offered a drink and assured it was safe. I watched as he drank from the same wineskin, though they did not share a glass. I don't know if it ultimately caused his death, but his drink was poisoned. After my father drank of the poisoned wine, and we had all been lulled into a sense of safety by the Franks' deceit, the "informant" tore off his disguise, and revealed his plot. He declared that he, the Roach, had poisoned the Prince. I knew almost nothing of the Roach, but I can say now that he is a coward and a traitor, and that I will make him pay. The Roach quickly dropped a smoke bomb, which then filled the small meeting area as he made his escape. The heathens then lit the underbrush on fire, trapping us within a hell of their own making. The two Franks that were still within the thicket assailed my father, who was unfortunate enough to be within their reach. They gouged his eye, but he fought them off as long as he could. My grandfather, The Cardinal Albarosa, came to his aid with the brave Johanna von Minitz. Had it not been for her and my grandfather, I fear my father's demise would have come much sooner. The rest of us, in a frenzy, desperately struggled to claw our way out of the burning thicket. My first thought was to flee the way we came in, before realizing it had been blocked off by the traitorous Franks. I watched my father’s Knight, Sir Varik Sturmweber, and our Warchief, Roland von Sturmweber, break down the barricade, and I did what I could to aid them. Once we managed to free ourselves from the blazing grove, we were met with Franks, blocking our escape. The Cardinal Albarosa and Johanna, thankfully, managed to secure my father. I stood alongside Sir Varik and Roland as we endeavored to fight the heathens back. My grandfather, having returned from ensuring The Grand Prince’s safety, handed me a dagger and buckler that he concealed during the meeting. I held the shield high as the Franks stabbed at me. They surrounded us, and we found ourselves forced into a fight for our survival. There was hell at our backs and Frankish spears were aiming to drive us toward it. As the situation grew increasingly desperate, hope was nearly lost. I heard Roland pleading for GOD to save us. It was then that my friend and champion, Yvon Galken, arrived with a small rally of allied Franks, led by The Hawk, Olaf von Reinmar, and Ser Alfred Barclay. As they approached, we saw more of the traitorous Franks rushing from the forest. We were surrounded, but now, so was our enemy. As the ambush morphed into a skirmish, myself, Roland, Sir Varik and The Cardinal Albarosa found ourselves forced back, closer and closer to the flames which licked at our heels. The melee became dire as the burning flora of the thicket began to bake us in our armor. Outnumbered as we were, we barely held our ground before our reinforcements could turn the tide. I personally witnessed my grandfather’s valiant heroics; he saved both me and our Warchief from Frank spears that day. As our saviors, Alfred, Yvon and Olaf crushed what remained of the Frank ambush, we thought we had won, but we quickly realized it was at a great cost. My father, the Grand Prince, lay dying just outside the thicket. Prince Alfred made many attempts to save him, and I stayed by my dear father’s side in his last moments. I held onto him as he spoke his final words to me before his demise. I pray he did not suffer in the end, and that he went to the Skies. We attempted to take my father’s body, along with our wounded, to Velen, but the Roach harassed us with bombs. He threw Godsflame onto me as I tried to escape, carrying my fallen father. I collapsed, writhing in pain as the Roach sent another down at me; the coward was hidden in the treetops. I was saved by the heroic Olaf von Reinmar, who risked his life to mitigate the blast by leaping atop the bomb. By the grace of GOD, Olaf’s shield protected him from harm, and we were able to escape without further casualties. It was after we had escaped the Roach’s final assault that I took a long look at the burning grove, and wondered how this could have happened. Under flag of truce, my father, Grand Prince Ferdinand, was slain by Frankish savages; poisoned and brutalized. I will never forgive this heinous crime. The Roach will pay-- By blood, by fire, he will pay.
  6. "It is time you held the flame in which your children may one day follow, my dear son. A Most Crucial Departure (a collection of thoughts, happening, writings and poems from Johun’s story to give you an idea of his past) Journal Entry, Malin’s Welcome, the day of Gavon’s departure. My father had left. After nineteen years to this day he has led me everywhere I have known and seen. My father had been raised with bones and blood, and arrows and sticks, yet he had not shown remorse or regret for those years past. He grasped embers and brands like they hadn't seen the light yet, cold to the touch it seemed. His hands are thick, like the bark of a tall, old tree. His faithful reliance on the warmth of the flame, I seldom slept without it's glow. I seldom slept without its guidance. Since his most crucial departure, I have found more than blessings and insights. The gods, they speak to me in the twilight, in the depths of my dreams. They speak to me at rest, and the air warms with each word. Stoking the flame each day and each night, grasping to its repentance for forgiving my mothers holy undoing. May the Long Dark find her when the time is right. Journal Entry, Malin’s Welcome, on year after Gavon’s departure. My father had left. One year ago today. My father had been raised from discipline, he was a man of honour and respect, not bestowed from other people, but honoured in the eyes of Mother Nature. He taught me how to hunt and how to truly take a life, granting the departed a peaceful end. I last saw him kill when he sent an oak and flint arrow through the chest of a doe, an arrow I'd whittled myself on that day. As swift as the arrow flew he ran for the marked animal, slit its throat, and hunched over it, peacefully praying. We skinned and gutted the doe and cooked it's meat over a flame my father had carefully kindled. It's hide hung over a makeshift rack, assembled from the branches of a Mountain Ash. A peaceful breeze scattered the smoke and sparkling embers among the trees, with a charred and inviting smell coming from the cooking Venison, I remember this night clearly. It was a calm and mild Amber Cold evening, there was scheduled to be a boat leaving Varhelm on Snow's Maiden, with traders and buyers who might appreciate a few pelts, so we hunted for the whole of The Deep Cold, and hiked4 back to Varhelm that evening, stopping at an Inn until dawn broke. Gavon met with his brother who I'd only met a few times since my Mother left. They sipped on mugs at the Inn until midday on the Snow's Maiden and I sat and whittled arrow shafts from a bundle of branches I picked up on the walk back. They spoke in a strange language I don't think I'd heard before, both leaning in and keeping their voices hush, close to the bar. I didn't know this would be nearing the end of my fathers presence in my life. Thenet and Gavon talk, Malin’s Welcome. OOC: (this section is meta, only Thenet and Gavon know the contents of this conversation, but it will give you an idea of this character's backstory, Johun doesn't know any of this yet.) *Spoke in Lakian* "These pelts are as dry as the bones it once wrapped Gavon, how will you sell them to the men on those boats?" Thenet frowns with a slight snort of a laugh, "This bag," he pats the leather satchel and looks at Johun briefly, "They'll never know that the pelts are useless, and they'll sell for a good few Mina if I can fool them.." Thenet nods and scrunches his face as he thinks of a response. Good game is lacking, as other more ferocious and less respectful hunters plague the surrounding forests. These pelts were from an older deer, less valuable. "A risk is not worth its weight in blood if you cannot give me a good reason for this decision, you know these traders don't play with steel for fun, I don't have the patience to-" Gavon cut him short "Listen, I mean to sell these last pelts and leave.. Johun can hold his own now" Gavon looks at his hands, then rubs his chin nervously. Thenet knew his brother as a lacking father at times, but he never thought Gavon would leave his son, or risk death to do so. Thenet stares at Gavon, as he sits back in his chair, tapping the bar with his fingers. "Gavon, what of the boy?!" He leans in closer now, and in a whispered urgency, "give me strength to understand your conclusion... Does the Father not heed your sin?" Thenet grabs Gavon's hands as if he were praying and shakes him, an attempt to rattle the man out of his delusion. "The Father has abandoned me Thenet, god knows the boy will find a way, I need to leave this place, I cannot support him.. and..." Gavon struggles for excuses. "Is it Seigrit? Has she been sending you letters again? Do not fall for her bewitched nonsense Gavon." Gavon shakes his head, his lies were crystal clear, he was talking to his brother after all. "She left with that lump of a man Gane, do you forget?" Thenet's tone turning deep and demanding, his eyes narrowing as he analyses Gavon's expression.. "It is not Seigrit, I have other matters to attend to also" Gavon says, puffing out his chest slightly, defensively. "Seigrit has repented" he adds. "Do as you wish then Gavon, I am but your brother, in blood. If my words cannot sway your stupidity then I fear nothing will cure you" Thenet stands and throws a few Minas on the bar, nodding to the keep. "That boy is fragile yet, and your leaving will only push him further, in which direction, only The Father knows." He looks at his brother for a few seconds, and shakes his head leaving without a goodbye, Gavon sits and twiddles his fingers, left speechless and pondering.
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