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PRIDE OVER PEACE: ON THE PEACE SUMMIT OF 164 SA I U D I C E M A C C E D I T Issued by the GRAND COVENANT In the year of 164 SA People of Middelan, It is with regret that the War for the Heartlands is fated to continue. Know that upon this day, the Duke of Adria convened with the sovereigns of the Grand Covenant within the Haeseni capital of Valdev in order to determine whether the war could be ended in a manner both peaceful and sustainable for the future peace of Man. This did not transpire. The Grand Covenant has affirmed at length that it does not seek the arbitrary annihilation of all Veletzian nor Adrian citizens. Your death is not desired. Your death is not necessary. The Covenant began its march in order to exact judgement against the state that rules over you, and that which has led you astray down this path of folly and tragedy. This war began because of grievous crimes committed by your lieges -- this much is confessed by the Duke of Adria in his Provisions of Ducal Austerity. However, by way of clarity, we recount them once more as follows: 1. That the League of Veletz wilfully conspired with the vanquished House of Stassion to murder King Edmund of Aaun - God keep his soul - whilst the United Kingdom of Aaun stood as allies to the League; 2. That the League of Veletz, without provocation, kidnapped Queen Sybille of Balian prior to her coronation and whilst she was heavy with child; 3. That the League of Veletz compelled Queen Renilde of Petra to withdraw her Commonwealth from the Cannonist League under duress whilst the Commonwealth of Petra stood as allies to the League; 4. That the League of Veletz invaded the city of Vallagne with a view to capturing the young Queen Catherine of Petra due to her diplomatic relations with the Kingdom of Haense; 5. That the League of Veletz ignored the commandments of High Pontiff Sixtus VI in the 23rd Golden Bull of Jorenus; 6. That the League of Veletz desecrated holy ground, namely through the burning of a consecrated church in the Commonwealth of the Petra; 7. That the League of Veletz conducted armed attacks upon holy ground and captured High Pontiff Sixtus VI; 8. That the League of Veletz gave land and sanctuary to marauders who regularly pillaged the lands of the Grand Covenant long before its formation, namely the Ferrymen led by the Elf Vyllaenen. That you no longer call yourself the ‘League of Veletz’ means nothing. As Adria preceded Veletz, so too did it succeed it. The Duke of Adria is not a redeeming rogue who defied the callous acts propagated by the Veletz before or during this war - the banners of Adria stood firmly astride their liege when all the crimes enumerated above were committed. It matters not if you did protest these acts, for just as a bandit might question the conduct of his crew, his own guilt is not mitigated if he still assists in cutting a wayfarer’s throat. These crimes are not mere stains left by your predecessor; they are scars which you helped carve. They are scars which many of your Siege Tribunal, chief among your Tribune of Civic Defense, helped carve. Thus, ask yourself - how could the Covenant ever accept that you are not one and the same as the League of Veletz? The question before the Grand Covenant today was whether the Duke of Adria and his Siege Tribunal could be trusted to aid in ensuring that the Middelan institutions never again spawned a conflict of this magnitude. Based on all described above, the Duke failed in this task. The only solution apparent to the Grand Covenant, therefore, was the dissolution of the Adrian-Veletzian state. The Duke of Adria was compelled to see reason and to do so bloodlessly, so that you - the people of Middelan - would be free from war to resettle wherever on the continent you wished, with the Kingdom of Numendil namely being a loud voice in offering hospitality and swearing upon themselves their goal of fair treatment - as all Covenant nations vowed. This was refused - the sovereignty, legacy, and name of an Adrian-Veletzian state took priority over all else such as the lives of Middelan people for the Duke of Adria. He has hence decided to value his pride over peace. Having failed to demonstrate why he, as one complicit to all crimes of Veletz, could be trusted to maintain the peace of Man, he affirmed that there could be no independent and sovereign Veletzian-Adrian state tolerated. He has therefore condemned the War to continue. We issue this missive not only as memorandum of the ill-fated peace convention held on this day, but as warning to the people of Middelan: Your deaths are not sought, nor are they necessary. Flee the crumbling remains of your liege’s folley, and be granted amnesty in any Covenant lands. From the Duke of Adria, to the Captain-General of Veletz, to the Duke of Adria once more; your lords have led you down this path, and brought you only ruin. They do not deserve your blades. Winburgh is fated to fall. B U T Y O U A R E N O T
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It was approaching dawn when the Knight was alerted of trouble at the heights. Regardless of whatever baseless peace talks were occurring among the diplomats of Adria and the Coalition there was more important matters to take care of. Amidst the arming of the common folk and the training of those who had never held a spear in their lives did he mount and ride to the realm of his uncle. Thus rode the Captain, clad in the DAEMONSTEEL armor untimely ripped from the corpse of an attacker of FREDERICKSBURG. He leapt from his BRASCAN MARE as it neared what little had been constructed in the ways of defense of the Easworth Heights. Blood already soaked the ground before him, but not of an enemy aligned with the COALITION PACT. The self-styled BURGUNDY KNIGHT of Winburgh stepped forwards to the scene, a blooded mouth which spat tooth unto the floor. A deserter. His hands fell to his sword belt as he approached the man, held back by two loyal militiamen placed under the MONTALT-IVANOVICH command. He waved his hand and within an instant the man was released. Silence filled the air, only split by the wailing of horse in the distance and the wind which blew hard upon the heights. Abruptly the deserter spake: "This war is over Captain! We've lost!" He cried, and doom became of the men around. The air blew hard and the clouds shifted black. He knew this man, a BRASCAN refugee who arrived under the care of the BULL OF MIDDEN right after himself. A friend he shared drink with night after night. He had even helped him write a line in one of his many poems. "What do we fight for!?" He pleaded. "Your cousins in Stassion?! They've pulled out! Abandoned us!" The lone eye of the Knight watched the pleading man, though still his lips did not part. "My people? Who's keep has been razed for nearly a decade?! Or your father, RADMIR, who stands in exile with the rest of the MERCENARIES!?!" The knight raised a singular gauntleted hand. Silence. Radmir lowered himself to one knee, and raised the man slowly. Turning to the surrounding militia he watched their faces which sat in terror and fright of the oncoming armies, for they were alone in the world. "My bones ache, friends, and my knees buckle under the weight of my armor which I have worn everyday for years." Radmir placed his foot unto a stump and removed his helm, it fell beside him thudding into the muddy ground fresh with rain. Wind blew his blood-red cape, soaked in water, dirt, and dried sanguine. "My hands numb from penned missives. My eye aches every night for I dream of how it was taken from me by those who call themselves warriors of GOD." "They will call you MARAUDERS. Yet, I have not seen you slay INNOCENTS... SAVAGES yet I have seen you urge CAUTION. MURDERERS yet I have seen you exercise MOST MERCY. IMPERIALISTS but it is not your banners which fly over FOREIGN NATIONS. They will not forget you, nor will they allow you to be FREE. Your entire lives you will be cast as EVIL and be whipped like SLAVES. But my friends, with all their slandering they forget who we truly are... MIDLANDERS take no quarter when none is given, MIDLANDERS fight to the MAN. MIDLANDERS do not FORGIVE, lest we FORGET. Those who started this war, truly, are long gone and have abandoned you to your fate for your honor became too much of you. As the APPOCOLPYSE nears, and DAEMONS approach our land marching in the thousands to the beat of INFERNAL drums, we stand. We are prepared to fight until our wrists limp, until the HOT RED BLOOD of our bodies lay SUCKED from their VEINS to feed the hunger of AGING PRINCES whose only claim to glory is that with ten times the number they slaughtered a weak foe- LET THEM COME. And when they march up this hill with their slings and arrows, let them shower our shields and splinter our spears- LET THEM COME. And should they slay me with their blades MINE BONES powered by GOD and COUNTRY will rise and fight their hordes for MY SOUL BLEEDS BURGUNDY- LET THEM COME!"
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Hail Victory! Hail Honour! Hail Purity! Hail Progress! __________________________________________________________________ -The Pure One, Lady Victory grants her laurels upon Pamphilos, First of The Lads These are the praises we sing when we sing to the lady of silver, to lady purity, to the glorious victory. ______________________________________________________________________ The Rising Age of Silver Bull ______________________________________________________________________ It is this day, that we greet the dawn for she heralds the coming age. The sun rises now in the stars of the sacred cow, of the mighty bull. The vital champion. This age? One of ascent and victory. And now like the finest herd, do we separate the weak from the strong, the pure from the impure. This way, all become stronger. All of this? From the delays of the redskydaemons to the challenges of our brothers? Tests. All of these are but trials. Flames to pass through, so that all that passes through the trial, arrive tempered, purer, stronger. What is it? The challenge of war that brings eternal glory, the fate where those not fit enough, fall, broken. Shamed. There are many kinds of wars, most eternal, yet only one eternal glory. This struggle that has been felt in the Holy Lands was but only the marker for what is to come. We have maintained our ancient sacred oaths to stand besides the True Ways of the Holy Lands, to raise our cruel spears for only what is Truest, Purest. And what is the result? The cursed IMPURES have been cast out from this land, they have been pushed below the golden waters of purity, and they have been held in the fires of purity and Sulianpoli, the blessed, has been the font from which that great white river has risen, and flooded the Holy Lands. The great albino skaddanak has come, and all shall pay homage to that, just as has been written upon the old Stele. Upon the stone of victory. A victory taken, without the spilling of the blood of brothers, or the pure. In this New Age of Bronze and Honour, and Silver and Purity, Sulianpoli, silvered colony, the Blessed City shall stand high amongst its contemporaries, and high in the Holy Lands. Premier is purity, Premier is Honour and Health, and Premier is Glory, and Premier is Progress _________________________________________________________________ -Purity is diligence. Ritual. Hail The Maiden. _______________________________________________________________ LADS! LADS! LADS! These are the words of the LADS. We share them to our Broddas, so that ALL may see them -------- We shall maintain the honour and purity of the Holy Land, as we are plainly most fit to do We shall maintain the privilege of our lads, and the kruggers, and we shall raise our spears in defense, and for the glory of one another. We shall pursue Health and Progress, just as our ancestors have had We shall maintain our silvery laws, and uphold the laws of the realm and silvery dominion as it is pure to do. We shall UPKEEP the unity of the first nations of the Great Horde, just as it had been in the inception of our polis. Krugmenistan, Haelun'or, and we shall seek to bring the Nordlanders back to the fold We shall bring to the capital, offering of Cattle and Silver, and beautiful bronzed warriors just as was agreed. To uphold our sacred oaths. We shall raise our spikes to smite the impure, just as the Fatwa of the great Ayatollah Krugmeni, and the Silver Maiden, Lady Purity has bade us. We will ALWAYS protect our lads, and honour our bruddas, our families, and our ancestors, with cruel spears, and sacred words. We welcome back the radiance of the twin-sun of Ka'tau. Once more is the desert your sacred lands. We proclaim Purity, and we hold it highest. May those who shun reality, fall before us. Bent at the knee, submitted as serf before the righteous. _________________________________________________________________ -The First of The Lads and the Brazen Band march under blessing of the Silvery Maid in the opening days of the Bronze Age _____________________________________________________________________________ For those of foreign citystates, you will be placed upon a chart, from pure to impure, voted upon by the Citizenry of our Citystate. The glory of the pure peoples shall be held highest in this Bronze Age, where only Heroes will be born. For those enlightened civilizations, great trade, and a fine sharing shall commence. Pillars of salt, and amphoraes of wine shall be held and brought about to mark our victory, and to share what was taken. Our sacred arts will be shared, and poetry sung. For those impure, you shall see us bring to you gifts. Accept them gratefully, as is the custom of guests and gifts amongst the civilized. The Bronze Age, where everyone is in ascent, where every man a king, every krugger a rex, and every descendant a Hero, and all live purely in the truest lives. Ride the wave, or be subsumed. Come forth, one and all, for Sulianpoli, The Blessed Cihi Hail Victory! Hail the Bronze Age! Seal of Sulianpoli
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ᛒᚨᛏᛏᛚᛖ ᛟᚠ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚺᛟᛟᚴ BATTLE OF THE HOOK ᛒᚨᛏᛏᛚᛖ ᛟᚠ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚺᛟᛟᚴ On a calm sunny day, two Frostbeards sat on the bridge of Norland and fished in hopes of catching a meal for the night. The Norlandic river, famed for its exotic fish, attracted the Frostbeard duo to try their luck. With the Brathmortakin smiling upon them due to their recent victories, the Frostbeards quickly hauled in one fish after another. Though this simple fishing trip was quickly ruined by the sound of a Norlandic warhorn, sounding the alarm and the city guard positioning on the walls. The Frostbeards quickly noticed this and sent word back to Urguan. A quick reaction force combined with Ferrymen, Frostbeards, and Irehearts quickly departed to assist the two peaceful fishermen. The Norlandic guard quickly formed at the gates, griping their spears and yelling insults at the two Frostbeards, evidently showing they intended to shed dwarven blood. As the reaction force arrived, the Norlandic party swiftly pushed out their city and met the dwarven party on the road, but with further reinforcements. The Norlandic party rallied behind their commander, showing their full strength, reinforced by their allies from the Vale as well as Adria. As each side faced off, it was evident that the dwarves were vastly outnumbered, numbering only 140 men compared to the combined rally of 250 men from Norland, Adria, and the Vale. Thirsting for dwarven blood, the battle quickly ensued, by the Norlandic charging forward into the dwarven party. The highly skilled party of dwarves quickly retreated, going to split off in teams in the woods as they fell back in an attempt to split off the large group of Norlanders. Each party skirmished back and forth on the road, exchanging bow fire and surging forward, but as the battle prolonged, the Norlanders quickly began to be picked off by the higher-trained force of dwarves. The Norlandic commander foolishly calling a push swiftly retreated back down the road towards the city, though this was the fatal killing blow for the Norlanders as the dwarven party swiftly pushed through the retreating party, picking off stragglers and eventually slaying the Norlandic commander. With their leader dead and their force losing more than half their numbers, the Norlanders quickly pulled back into the city, shutting the gates and cowering in fear. The Dwarven party, only losing 10 men, let out a victorious warcry before returning home with a Norland prisoner, releasing him on his way in respect for his capabilities as a warrior. But let it be known that the Norlanders willfully attacked two peaceful dwarven fishermen who offered no harm or threat to innocent civilians. The failures as well as cowardice of King Balon's ‘The Handless’ is evident, he refuses to acknowledge his wrongdoing in the war and sends needless warriors to their deaths for a war of his own making. King Balon and Mirven of the Vale, we will not rest until dwarven justice is achieved, with or without further bloodshed.
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[!] Halfling propaganda finds its way into your aviary mailbox THE CULT FAILS! ~The entrance tunnel that the kidnappers hid in now lies vacant of evildoers~ Today, let it be known that the Iblees-worshipping cult of kidnappers and scoundrels have been thwarted! They tried to attack us, but, seeing our superior numbers and the great skill of our friendly big-folk adventurers, they tucked their tails between their legs and RAN all the way to the safety of the monk lands where we could no longer find them. Those who prey on the weak are themselves even weaker! Bywater stands strong! ~Mimosa Applefoot-Nimblefoot, Mayor of Bywater.
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ᛚᛟᛚ ᚾᛖᚲᚱᛟᛗᚨᚾᚲᛖᚱᛋ ᛋᚢᚲᚴ ᛞᛁᚲᚴ PARKED WHERE IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE. ᛚᛗᚨᛟ ᚴᛁᚾᛞᛖᛗᛈᛖᚱᛟᚱ ᛁ ᚷᛟᛏ ᛗᚤ ᛒᛟᚨᛏ ᛒᚨᚲᚴ In the year 114 of the Second Age a group of four holy warriors were on a patrol on Urguani lands, this group included the dwarven mastermind, Sigrun Ireheart, The Initiate of Xan, Amelia Jr. The Cleric, Arilynae Truthseeker. And Arknight Togrim Heartstring. These four brave men and women came across an Urguani ship docked outside of The Frozen Castle of Serheim in Ando’Alur lands. A known refuge place to darkspawn and other low-life such as necromancers. Once they spotted the Urguani ship docked outside of this wretched place, it was under famed dwarven captain Sigrun Ireheart that these brave men and women successfully reclaimed this seafaring vessel for the Urguani Navy from the clutches of the vile darkspawn that had stolen it. [!] An artistic depiction of the four courageous heroes.
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(The Siege of Southbridge.) A Warhorn. Sudden and roaring as dawn broke, signaling the preparation of tripartite forces for the invasion of Southbridge. A fleet of dwarven ships equipped with specifically designed dwarven trebuchets lay anchored before the Orenian fort. On its flank the Tripartite war camp, housing the bulk of the alliance's forces along with its own array of trebuchets were assembled, its soldiers ready for the attack. Opposite the war camp, Orenian forces were seen on top of Southbridge preparing their own trebuchets in sight of the camp below. Suddenly the sound of giant rocks flying through the air, finding their intended marks, could be heard, the first volley of Tripartite trebuchets destroying half of the Orenian trebuchets sending wooden debris flying through the air. Ferrymen and Blackvale forces led by Banjo and Gaspard immediately pushed into the courtyard of Southbridge slaughtering any Orenian trebuchet crews caught off guard by the flank force. The combined dwarven and BSK trebuchets made quick work of the weak walls of Southbridge, making them collapse and creating a clear pathway for the alliance forces to invade the interior. Under the command of Ailred Var Ruthern and Bakir Ireheart the alliance forces charged forth into the rubble of Southbridge seeking out and cutting down any orenian seen within the ruins, including the general of the ISA and the Orenian Emperor. Bodies of the defenders of Southbridge littered the ground above and under the rubble. The Fort was reduced to clay and brick ruins housing the coffins of thousands of Orenians, forever. After the battle was finished the forces of The Grand Kingdom of Urguan and the Kingdom of Haense marched into the lands behind Southbridge and placed Urguan and Haense banners signifying the victory over the cowardly Philip III. Narvak oz Urguan, Krusae Zwy Kongzem OOC: Screenshots Warclaim Videos:
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We March Onwards Penned from the desk of his Lordship, Ailred var Ruthern, 5th of the Sun’s Smile, 407 ES. We March Onwards, 5th of the Sun’s Smile, 407 ES. Written, composed, and sung by Angelika Irena, in honor of Haense winning the War of Wigs alongside their friends and allies. We march onwards, onwards in the name of god! With gleaming steel and an iron will, we prevail against all odds! We march onwards, onwards for Hanseti-Ruska, Who’s salvation sets us free from oppression and tyranny, We march onwards for him, our gracious and giving koeng. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for Hanseti-Ruska! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for Hanseti-Ruska! We march onwards, onwards in the name of god! With sharpened skill we defend the hill, slaying all Imperial dogs! We march onwards, onwards for Hanseti-Ruska, Who’s salvation sets us free from oppression and tyranny, We march onwards for him, our gracious and giving koeng.
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RECAPTURE OF THE BASTION 15th of Snow Maiden, Year 57 SA “Jesus Pablo is ballin’ out on Ferrymas” - Banjo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow 1,200 Tripartite forces composed of Ferrymen and Irehearts marched on the roads towards the heart of the Imperial Capital, New Providence, to deal a devastating blow to Imperial forces. Under the command of Captain Banjo and Commander Bakir Ireheart, the small band bandited the roads of Oren until they approached the bridge, all that stood in their way of entering the city was a 1,500 force o’ wig-wearing lobsters. One could say you could hear the rattle of their metal-bucket hats as they quivered in fear at the sight of the notorious Ferrymen. The battle first started at the foot of the bridge, where both sides exchanged arrowfire. Seeing as this exchange of volleys led to a stalemate, the Ferrymen tactically led a maneuver around the bridge, flanking the Orenian forces as they were caught in utter dumbfounded surprise. Their little lasting bravery was soon replaced by cowardice as they routed back to the security of their gates- or so they thought. They stubbornly attempted to push out of their gates, but they were met with dwarven steel and Ferrymen prowess as their men were slaughtered like dogs. The Imperials were very wrong to think they were safe behind their walls and gates. A small detachment of Ferrymen consisting of Jesus Pablo, Diome Indoren, Banjo, and Mika managed to breach past their iron doors and began to take the entire force on their own. There within the gates, Jesus Pablo showed his ferociousness and prowess on the battlefield as he single handedly charged in a moment of bloodlust into a group of Orenians. His savage charge proved useful as it opened the opportunity for the rest of the Ferrymen to push through the gates and into the hearth of the city. 1,100 Imperials dead. Once more the bastion and city fell to the hands of the Ferrymen. Signed, Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Heir to Shipman Keep. Bakir Ireheart, Clan Father of the Irehearts, Legion Commander, King’s Hand
