Prelude - The fall of an old kingdom
"This kingdom is founded on the hearts of our people. The day our souls are forgotten, and when the greed of man is given into, Darishnia will fall. I mourn for that day when the skies will be full of crimson red."
-Eradous Maxin, scribe of Ermal the first.
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Many years had passed in the kingdom of Darishnia since the final battles of the war with Kalamon and his malevolent armies. Like a leech, Kalamon sapped at the resources of the old kingdom. Darishnia spent all it had military-wise and economically to stop the grinding fist of the undead lich. Decadence has at long last caught up with the once glorious kingdom, and its ailing days began. After the war against Kalamon, the kingdom fell into a period of turmoil.
The old, childless king had passed away, and the dukes and lords of his former court bickered and quarreled amongst one another with who would be next to lead the throne. In the end, a new type of leadership was formed. All the dukes and lords of the land came to a feeble accord with one another, and began to lead the kingdom on a slow reconstruction period which would have lasted years, had the efforts gone unhindered. Alas, in the darkness, a new adversary arose to replace the old, and moved forward into the light to challenge the decadent kingdom once again. Darishnia was not ready for the next foe.
A nomadic orcish horde quickly began to sweep across the country side half a decade later, and took the kingdom by storm. Many peasants on the outlying farms and in the most desolate of villages within the Kingdom's borders were slaughtered and enslaved. Those settlements on the edge of the wilderness were burnt to the ground, and the raging hordes of this unknown orc clan moved inward. The once disciplined army of Darishnia was slow to respond to this new, unknown enemy, and at first, they were dismissed as much of a threat at all. But with the passing of time, the horde began to move inwards closer to the decaying heart of the kingdom, Thaisis.
The dukes and lords finally agreed to take action against this horde after the great pleas of the frightful citizens of the kingdom, albeit they were hesitant to do so. They had much to lose, and little to gain. But their survival as a kingdom depended on their actions. They knew this, yet their way of ensuring their survival was derived from their selfishness. None of them held good hearts. To these nobles and lords, the people of the realm were an expandable resource. They were the drones to the queen who would suffer for them without question. And so it was. The people were too exhausted from the war with Kalamon to go against their new rulers. There was only the future to look forward too, and the Darishnians were willing to accept the tyranny. Most of the lords could care less about the innocent lives they now ruled.
The stress of this new threat weighed heavily upon them all. A new war would deplete the pockets and the coffers of the Lords in this frail time for the kingdom. The army had all but diminished, and so the Lords would have to be quick in raising a new army to defend themselves. Through the power of law, many peasants were forced into service to the Lords. Those who refused were sentenced to life in the dungeons or to death by the axe of the executioner. Thus, few defied their decree.
Once the army had been raised, the peasants were given swords and armor, and shipped quickly away to the different towns and settlements dotting the landscape on the border of the wilderness in the west. Garrisons of two hundred to three hundred men were placed within the smallest of settlements to the most important trading centers. Further inland, greater numbers of inexperienced soldiers mounted the great walls of the cities and port cities in hopes of keeping the council of the Lords safe. The council immensely underestimated this new threat that was posed to them. They knew nothing of their enemy, and in raw arrogance, they expected that a few soldiers would halt the grinding axe of the blood lust driven orc.
The war started a year ago. In the recent weeks, reports from the outlying settlements looked grim. Contact with the troops there had all but been lost. Those stories that returned had been of blood baths and acts of mindless slaughter. There was fear in our souls then. Darishnia lacked the true strength of the soul or the heart that it once had to fight against the vile war-mongering orcs. They moved closer, and those in the heart of the kingdom, the council, were beginning to feel their presence. It was no longer a border war, but one of total annihilation. Only the gods could help the Darishnians then...
The sway of the raven
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Sevious Helios
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Sevious Helios
- Posts: 417
- Joined: Thu Dec 05, 2002 12:16 am
- Location: United States-Alton
Part 1 - Flight from the Flames
((OOC note: After much time of leaving this topic alone, I return to finish it. I'm currently working on Part 1.))
"There are two ways for the aggressor to win in war - by fire and the sword. Put the flame to their villages, settlements, and castles and watch them burn. Stain your steel with their blood and they will break. There is no mercy in war." - Norak, Barbarian Warlord
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The reports of the enemy running rampant in the far corners of the west had kept the men on edge for many days. Ever since the throng of troops arrived at the village of Dogdon two months ago, the movements of the enemy was all the common-folk talked about. This new enemy was said to be inexorable and brutal. Their methods of killing were relentless, and they knew no mercy. The war was in full swing by now, and out there on the frontier, the forces of Darishnia were faltering. One by one, their outposts and garrisons at the outlying settlements were burning and falling to the fire of the enemy. There was no stop to his rampage.
The night before had been a long and restless one for Falden. He was among one of the two hundred who had been stationed there in Dogdon to protect the villagers and halt the grinding axe of the orcish horde. Falden knew this was all propaganda to the government in Thaisis. The true gem of the ancient kingdom was there, as it had always been. The self-proclaimed council of lords had deemed themselves the most important thing in all of the kingdom, and being no geniouses at military strategy, the Lords used force through their loyal followers to scatter the army out amongst the myriad of settlements. The council did not and could not comprehend the scale of this threat that was posed before them. They turned their proud noses up into the air, and ignored it. The threat would simply be dealth with accordingly, they thought, and afterwards, a proper king would be crowned.
To them, this was just a game. The villagers out here on the frontier were nothing to them. They used propaganda, lies, and forceful, veiled threats to keep the nay-saying common-folk in line. The armed soldiers that followed the council kept the peace amongst the lips of the commoners. Those who spoke illy against the council were ordered away to be interrogated, or in the council's words, "peacefully questioned" for treason. Many realized the dangerous situation they were in, but there was nothing they could do against such wreckless control. The villagers were at a loss when it came to speaking freely.
The same was said for soldiers within the ranks. Most of them were common-folk as well - sons of the peasants who worked the farms out here and closer in towards the heart of the kingdom. They were drafted within the ranks of the army to serve without question, and hold undeniable loyalty. This was only a guise to the men. Falden was just another soldier in Dogdon that day, holding the same fears of the relatively unknown enemy. When the other soldiers began to speak of evacuating the settlement before it was too late, the captain quickly set an iron foot down to put a halt to it all.
"Damn you! I've been hearing things I'm not liking, you dogs! If I hear talk of abandoning our post 'ere in Dogdon one more time, gods so help me, I will personally seek out you fools who speak such thoughts and cut your tongue out with a rusty dagger! We will -not- leave this place. Our orders are clear - we are to stay and fight against the foe at all cost. You bastards who think likewise better think twice. Do I make myself clear, scum?", Captain Gerard Helmz said with anger in his voice.
Each and everyone of the men nodded their heads where they stood. Morning roll call had been issued and the shifts were about to change. It was only minutes earlier when Gerard came bursting into the shoddy excuse of a barracks with his sword drawn. He was a small man in stature, and he only thought it proper to have his weapon drawn for first impressions. To each of the soldiers, Gerard's first impression was laughable. Though, from experience, the soldiers knew that he was not a joke. None took him lightly anymore.
((OOC note: After much time of leaving this topic alone, I return to finish it. I'm currently working on Part 1.))
"There are two ways for the aggressor to win in war - by fire and the sword. Put the flame to their villages, settlements, and castles and watch them burn. Stain your steel with their blood and they will break. There is no mercy in war." - Norak, Barbarian Warlord
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The reports of the enemy running rampant in the far corners of the west had kept the men on edge for many days. Ever since the throng of troops arrived at the village of Dogdon two months ago, the movements of the enemy was all the common-folk talked about. This new enemy was said to be inexorable and brutal. Their methods of killing were relentless, and they knew no mercy. The war was in full swing by now, and out there on the frontier, the forces of Darishnia were faltering. One by one, their outposts and garrisons at the outlying settlements were burning and falling to the fire of the enemy. There was no stop to his rampage.
The night before had been a long and restless one for Falden. He was among one of the two hundred who had been stationed there in Dogdon to protect the villagers and halt the grinding axe of the orcish horde. Falden knew this was all propaganda to the government in Thaisis. The true gem of the ancient kingdom was there, as it had always been. The self-proclaimed council of lords had deemed themselves the most important thing in all of the kingdom, and being no geniouses at military strategy, the Lords used force through their loyal followers to scatter the army out amongst the myriad of settlements. The council did not and could not comprehend the scale of this threat that was posed before them. They turned their proud noses up into the air, and ignored it. The threat would simply be dealth with accordingly, they thought, and afterwards, a proper king would be crowned.
To them, this was just a game. The villagers out here on the frontier were nothing to them. They used propaganda, lies, and forceful, veiled threats to keep the nay-saying common-folk in line. The armed soldiers that followed the council kept the peace amongst the lips of the commoners. Those who spoke illy against the council were ordered away to be interrogated, or in the council's words, "peacefully questioned" for treason. Many realized the dangerous situation they were in, but there was nothing they could do against such wreckless control. The villagers were at a loss when it came to speaking freely.
The same was said for soldiers within the ranks. Most of them were common-folk as well - sons of the peasants who worked the farms out here and closer in towards the heart of the kingdom. They were drafted within the ranks of the army to serve without question, and hold undeniable loyalty. This was only a guise to the men. Falden was just another soldier in Dogdon that day, holding the same fears of the relatively unknown enemy. When the other soldiers began to speak of evacuating the settlement before it was too late, the captain quickly set an iron foot down to put a halt to it all.
"Damn you! I've been hearing things I'm not liking, you dogs! If I hear talk of abandoning our post 'ere in Dogdon one more time, gods so help me, I will personally seek out you fools who speak such thoughts and cut your tongue out with a rusty dagger! We will -not- leave this place. Our orders are clear - we are to stay and fight against the foe at all cost. You bastards who think likewise better think twice. Do I make myself clear, scum?", Captain Gerard Helmz said with anger in his voice.
Each and everyone of the men nodded their heads where they stood. Morning roll call had been issued and the shifts were about to change. It was only minutes earlier when Gerard came bursting into the shoddy excuse of a barracks with his sword drawn. He was a small man in stature, and he only thought it proper to have his weapon drawn for first impressions. To each of the soldiers, Gerard's first impression was laughable. Though, from experience, the soldiers knew that he was not a joke. None took him lightly anymore.