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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Jan 20, 2014 7:50:34 GMT
If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. The rebels in Durland were probably the best armed and most resistant in the kingdom, but that was no excuse for Ceolwulf's failure. He'd been given command of the finest soldiers Man had to offer, and had none to blame but himself for his defeat. With the half of Ceolwulf's men I was able to rally, and my own brigade of yeomen archers, I marched on Durland to put an end to the rebellion in the home counties once and for all. The forces Ceolwulf had been given to command belonged to the Tower Guard, trained in swordsmanship and marksmanship alike. Most importantly, however, they are patient. A man in armor and carrying a tower shield is a formidable obstacle on the battlefield, but many let their instincts get the better of them, and charge when they ought to hold. The Tower Guard do not make such mistakes. They formed a shieldwall, and joined the archers in reigning down a shower of arrows on the charging rebels. Their heavy infantry hit first - and broke themselves against the wall. Indeed, they were broken before the militia carrying their flank even managed to make up the lost ground. The militia themselves broke in but a single wave of arrows, fleeing to what remained of the hills. The immediate threat defeated, the Tower Guard formed ranks again, and unleashed another storm of quarrels - this time upon the enemy crossbowmen. Against armored Tower Guards, these upstart rebels stood no chance. Having successful proven that Ceolwulf was, in fact, simply an idiot, I returned to the capital, where I understood that his son was preparing to lead a hopefully more sensible expedition to the north. Nothing could have prepared me for what awaited my return. - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of the Kingdom of Man, "Commentaries on the Ascension Wars"
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Jan 20, 2014 8:02:49 GMT
"I wish there were an easy way to say this, but I do not believe there is. I have knelt in the heart of Avalon for a year, and my prayers have fallen only on deaf ears. At first I, too, had hoped that this was only some form of test, that our Pantokrator would welcome us back with open arms. But the time has come when there must be no more lies." "Everything you have heard about Venna is true." "Ermor has fallen into ashes once again. The Pantokrator's ghost stalks the world, and He has no more love left for us. Our prayers to Him will never be answered, until we join Him in His dead halls." "In this, our darkest hour, we cannot put our faith in gods, but in each other. Man has survived worse than this. We will endure and overcome. We will drive these ghosts from our lands, and save the people of Venna. Gods or no, we will survive." - Excerpt from Queen Elizabeth IV of Man's "Venna" Speech
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Jan 24, 2014 15:05:59 GMT
Lord Saberht, I wish, once again, to inform you of what an honor it is to be permitted to command the armies of Man at my young age. I must admit, I feel uneasy taking up a Warden's sword, especially in the wake of my father's heroic death, but we all do what we must for the good of the realm. Acting on Her Majesty's orders, I assumed command of the Second Brigade of the Tower Guard and marched north on Griffonshire, with the intent of liberating the Sacred Throne there from the dark sorceress whose forces occupied it. My men were somewhat unnerved at marching into battle without the support of the Magistracy, especially considering recent... events, but I assured them that the God-Queen was with us. Our forces comprised a single brigade of Tower Guard, with no support. Heeding your words regarding my father's death, I held myself at the rear of our lines, rather than joining the men at the front. Fortunately, my father's crossbow was still quite accurate enough to support the battle from such a distance. Arrayed against us were the Twin Sorceresses, Corna and Penetheste, and their minions, both human and otherwordly. At the time, I must admit I felt perhaps undeservedly overconfident. Apart from some heavy infantry, the human soldiers in their employ seemed like they could offer no significant challenge, and I suppose I never quite learned to properly fear the power of magic in war. Their heavy infantry charge was easily broke under the weight of our crossbows, and at first I thought the day was ours. Yet the militia in the sorceresses' service seemed to be possessed by some peculiar force. Weathering the storm of arrows, they reached our lines and, God-Queen preserve us, they soon proved themselves the most formidable rebels my men had ever seen. Besides them, the sorceress Corna revealed herself to be a powerful necromancer, and my men soon found themselves fighting both some the surprisingly formidable militia and the walking dead themselves. In my desperation, I nearly cried out to the Old Pantokrator, before coming to my senses. Instead, I directed my pleas to Her Majesty, in the hopes that a fraction of her holy power might save our men. It was... not entirely unsuccessful. At last, my men rallied and scattered the remaining militia. All that remained now were the sorceresses and the last of their undead minions. Alas, that final charge was too much, and my men were forced to sound a retreat. Griffonshire remains in the sorceresses' hands. Yet, I feel no despair at this supposed defeat. The sorceresses' human soldiers are either dead or scattered. Corna's vile magic will soon fade. Return in force, and Griffonshire will be ours within the month. - Cuthwine Ceolwulfson, Lord Warden of Durland
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Jan 24, 2014 15:08:09 GMT
Your Most Divine Majesty, Every day, I work miracles and preach your Word in Venna, but the situation grows dire. The Traitor God knows that I am here, and his men - if such can be called men - grow increasingly more persistent in their hunt. They will stop at nothing to make me one of them. I can only hope that our armies free this accursed land soon. - Your Most Humble Servant, Cenberth of Chelms
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Jan 26, 2014 21:24:54 GMT
After Lord Cuthwine's message, I was beginning to wonder whether I was going to spend the rest of my career cleaning up the House of Durland's messes. I had taken command of the Tower Guard and a force of yeoman archers, while Cuthwine went to collect the soldiers who had retreated to Brimston. The Magistracy also assigned me a small task force, led by Magister Commandant Aelle, to assist in destroying the sorceresses' magical creations. I wasn't entirely sure they were necessary, Cuthwine had led me to expect only light resistance. Unfortunately, when we arrived, we soon discovered that we weren't the only ones who had expected light resistance. The men were a bit taken aback by this turn of events. It was a moment we'd been dreading since we first heard the news from Venna - we would have to match ourselves against an enemy we could barely see, let alone strike. Worse yet, their commander was the so-called Dark Prophet, the one Cenberth's missives referred to as "Wormplague." We would be facing both dark spectres and dark magic. But the Queen had commanded that Griffonshire be taken, and Saberht of Chelms does not leave a mission half-finished. I ordered the men to form ranks and take up their crossbows, while Aelle and his fellow magisters did whatever magic it was they were planning on doing. It turned out this consisted largely of throwing rocks at the enemy. I am never asking the Magistracy for help again. Once they met our ranks, however, our men soon proved themselves more than a match for any phantom. One of my sergeants later informed me of their weakness - while they were almost immaterial, with one's mind focused, it was possible to cut along the gaps they left when they extended their presence into our world to strike. And I am proud to say that the Tower Guard are more than a match for even Eldregate's finest. Within mere moments, victory was ours. Wormplague, his army destroyed almost to the ghost, fled Griffonshire before us. In turn, we had taken only a single casualty - apparently, the Magisters had been overzealous with their rocks and one of their old hearts had given out. That small tragedy aside, our victory was complete. But one thing was clear: the Traitor God's legions had entered the heart of Man itself, and battle had been joined. There could be no peace between us now. And thus, the Third Ascension War began in earnest. - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of the Kingdom of Man, "Commentaries on the Ascension Wars"
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 10, 2014 20:11:31 GMT
Cuthwine, listen to me. Lord or no lord, if you ever mention the Glanis debacle again, I will personally skin you alive, then hang you on the walls of Chelms screaming in agony until the ravens eat your tongue.
That is not a metaphor.
That said, I congratulate you on your victory in subduing the rebels in Ivenmoor, such as it is. I understand they didn't have the support of treacherous knights. If only we could all be blessed with such good fortune.
I have assumed command of the new forces mustered at Chelms, and now intend to return to the front. We are at war with the Traitor God now, and Glanis is key to any defense against the ranks of the dead. As I can no longer afford to spare my attentions, I expect you to continue subduing the southern provinces in my absence. You did an admirable job in Ivenmoor. I suggest you leave a token garrison there and move west to secure our flank in Glanis. It's such a simple task that even you couldn't possible fuck it up.
- Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of Man
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 10, 2014 20:12:40 GMT
CUUUUTHWIIIIINE! - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of Man
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 10, 2014 22:35:40 GMT
(OOC: And that's why PD is important!)
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 14, 2014 15:38:47 GMT
Your Majesty, though it pains me dearly to defy the will of my queen and goddess, I must once again beg you to reconsider your proposal of an alliance with the Vanir. Yes, it is true that they maintained peaceful relations under the reign of the Old Pantokrator, but I can personally assure you that it was not for lack of trying. And while they may have made a show of abandoning the Forbidden Art, it is a well-known fact that they have continued to practice it in secret.
Perhaps the situation appears different from the Valley of Chelms, but as I go now to Blackwood, I am faced with the reality that when a mother comes to me, her children stolen by the Vanir for their vile rituals, I must soothe her with pleasant lies and pretend that she is mistaken. I am your humble servant, and I will respect your divine will, but you must understand that it is your people who will bear the cost of this decision.
Perhaps in time, when the Lemures are defeated, we will have the strength to see to the defeat of Hell and its minions. I can only pray that that time comes soon.
- Chauser of Chelms, Bishop of Blackwood
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 18, 2014 20:04:18 GMT
By royal decree of Her Majesty Elizabeth of Chelms, Queen of Man and Pantokrateira, the Ban of Brimston is hereby lifted. The magi and initiates of the Azure Order shall be restored their status as subjects of the Crown, and shall be given the full support of the Magistracy for the practice of their arts so long as they remain in service to the Realm. Her Majesty hereby accepts the sworn fealty of the Azure Order and its Grand Master of the Rivers, and extends to them as her vassals the Lordship of the County of Brimston in perpetuity, so long as they obey their oaths and remain faithful to the Realm. As part of the terms of their fealty, the Azure Order shall provide Her Majesty the Queen with a levy of magi and perpetual service to the Kingdom. Magi of the Azure Order in service to the Realm shall be placed either under the Royal Magistracy or the Royal Navy, depending on the necessity of their service. They shall also pay to the Crown a portion of taxes collected from the County of Brimston, and provide the Crown with a tithe of one sapphire each month. These words bear the weight and seal of Her Majesty the Queen. No loyal subject shall deny them.
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Feb 21, 2014 4:29:56 GMT
The first snows of winter crunched beneath boots and hooves. The march north from Chelms had been completed in record time, and now we were finally on the cusp of subduing one of the last of our wayward rebellious provinces, one who had proven particularly resistant in the past. The rebels had been rallied into further defiance against the Queen by an Ulmish priest who claimed to be a follower of the Traitor God, and a lance of our own knights had broken their vows to join his side. When I had attempted to reclaim Glanis in the summer, they had broken my army. It would not happen again. My men arrayed themselves for battle - the surviving veterans of our earliest campaigns, the yeomen of Chelms, and our secret weapon - seven handpicked knights of the Order of Man, still loyal to their queen, held back until the time was right. The traitors were not so patient. Their crossbowmen tried to strike us down, but their arrows broke against our shieldwall. The knights charged, but they, too, broke against the Tower of Avalon. At last, the enemy was engaged, and the time had come. I ordered our counter-charge. It turned out to be unnessecary. The knights broke and fled at the sight of our resistance, and we now returned the favor to their crossbows. Arrows and bolts rained down upon them. The heresiarch himself was killed by a stray bolt, and by the time our knights had reached their lines, the battle was already over. Glanis was ours once more. My victory was short-lived, however. I had intended to march south immediately, to assist Cuthwine in the reclamation of the Golem Range - the young man had proved himself more competent than his idiot father, but he was still inexperienced, and commanded only a legion of the Tower Guard, so I was concerned that he would fail without my aid. However, a new development had been brought to my attention. I turned the army about. It was time to drive the Lemurian menace from the shores of Man once and for all. - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of the Kingdom of Man, "Commentaries on the Ascension Wars"
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Mar 5, 2014 19:24:44 GMT
I've always hated being right. The Traitor God would not accept his defeat at our hands, and he was determined to take back Venna from its people. An army of ghosts marched forth from the waters of Lake Fortune, intent on reclaiming a once peaceful shire and dragging it back into their master's hell. Up until now, we had faced only the most passive of resistance from the Lemurians. Our war had been mainly against the rebels who had risen up in the wake of the cataclysm, or with cultists collaborating with the Traitor God. But these were hardened soldiers, souls that had witnessed the rise and fall of Old Ermor. They glided, translucent, across the winter snow, the mad cackling of the skulls atop their banner fortunately drowned out by the howling of the wind. We had arrived just in time. Venna kept only a token garrison. I came to its assistance with my own troops, a full brigade of the Tower Guard and yeoman archers, as well as a lance of knights of the Order of Man. The plan was simple - we would form a battleline at the top of Drummond Hill, between the advancing army of the dead and the last few surviving communities of Venna. The Tower Guard would make sure the dead advanced no farther, the archers would pepper them with arrows, and once the enemy had us engaged, our knights would charge their left flank, and cut their shieldwall from its sides. We were not alone in this, for once. The Archbishop and his local subordinate, one Father Cleges, had been tending to the faithful in Venna since we reclaimed it. It's a funny thing. Two years ago, this man would turn red at the very suggestion that the Pantokrator might have turned on us. Now, he has become the most fervent zealot of us all. I've never been a particularly godly man, but somehow I still felt a certain satisfaction, knowing that the Queen was at my side. There, on the slopes of Drummond Hill, we waited. At least, some of us did. In hindsight, I should have expected this result. My men were trained and disciplined soldiers, but the Venna garrison were mere boys given a few straps of leather and a pointy stick. They didn't let the enemy come to us. When they saw the enemy approaching, they charged. Let it never be said that I am uncharitable. I cannot fault the courage and devotion of these men, so willing to die for their country. And in the end, I suspect their sacrifice might even have been part of what turned the tide. But the true honors lie not with these peasants, however brave, but with seven knights of Man. The militia had joined battle with the enemy, crashing into the first wave of ghosts. The first wave was not particularly dangerous - they were mere fractured spirits and shadows, no doubt the remnants of the recently deceased or those who failed to reach the afterlife. It is difficult to harm a ghost in battle: without some form of magic, one must find a way to cut their soul, not their body, and that takes a level of mental discipline and will most peasant militia lack. But these men were defending their home, and they were emboldened by the spirit of their queen. Some may have found their steps faltering, but nevertheless, they cut through the first wave with surprising finesse. It was the second wave, the ghosts of the ancient Ermorian legions, that would have ripped them to shreds, if not for that timely charge into their flank. Those seven brave heroes drew the Lemurian elite from the militia - and from the archers - while the remnants of the main army fled. With the army splintered and shattered, victory lay within our grasp. Of their entire damned army, only one spirit still advanced. From his style of dress, I suspect he was an officer in life. Perhaps we were kindred spirits, of a sort, trying to hold on to what we could in a world gone mad. But on the other hand, I'm pretty sure I'm not that bloody stupid. With their officer slain, the spirits had only one leader left. Alas, our heroic knights had lost their lives in the charge, and our supply of arrows had run dry - but now we had numbers on our side. All it would take was one blow, one spirit sent back to the grave, and the assault on Venna would be broken. And not for the first time in her history, Man's people proved themselves her worthiest defenders. Our victory had ended the immediate threat to Venna, but our work was not done yet. The bulk of the fleeing spirits had retreated not to Lake Fortune, but to Werk Enum, the Traitor God's last holdout in Manx territory. I'd received word that a force was already marching on the province under the command of Egfrith of Blackwood, and that for once the Magistracy had decided to be useful and lend them their aid. Nevertheless, after the near catastrophe of Venna, I intended to leave nothing to chance. I rallied the man, and marched toward my final battle. - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of the Kingdom of Man, "Commentaries on the Ascension Wars"
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Mar 5, 2014 19:50:05 GMT
Once again, we had the high ground. Egfrith had brought a formidable force of his own with him - a lance of knights, two brigades of the Tower Guard, and most preciously, four Magisters Militant. Their leader, a man of some seventy winters named Aelle, informed me that the Magistracy wished to prove its worth to the kingdom in this battle. He made particularly mocking mention of the aid the Church had attempted to provide us at Venna, claiming that his magic would "actually work." I certainly hoped he was right. The enemy were fewer in number now. Half militia, half ghostly legionaries, but Venna had taught me that numbers could be deceiving where the servants of the Traitor God were concerned. Flesh and steel could defeat the Lemures - I'd seen that at Venna as well - but even with our advantages, I still suspected this battle could become very ugly indeed. Nevertheless, we had our duty. Werk Enum was the last stronghold of the dead in Man. It had to be removed, by any means necessary... - Saberht of Chelms, Lord High Castellan of the Kingdom of Man, "Commentaries on the Ascension Wars" Unfortunately, the final pages of the manuscript are missing, likely destroyed in the same fire that claimed Lord Saberht's life. This is truly a great loss to the historian, as an eyewitness account of the Battle of Werk Enum would have been invaluable. While Saberht overstates both its strategic importance and the threat posed by the Lemurians, it nevertheless marks several historic firsts - the first battle in which the Magistracy deployed war magic, under the guidance of Magister Commandant Aelle, as well as the final battle of Lord Saberht's career. Truly, it must have been a sight to behold.
In any case, the outcome is well known - a complete victory for the armies of Man, with its only casualties being a particularly unlucky longbowmen and Magister Aelle's right knee. Alas, in the winter cold, Lord Saberht's chest wound became infected, and Lord Egfrith's army was forced to carry the feverish lord on a return trip to Chelms. - Cleges Hood, Magister Scholastic
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Mar 5, 2014 20:28:49 GMT
The Seven Colleges can be understood as two sets - the three Old Colleges and the four New. The Old Colleges were founded at the very dawn of the Magistracy, and in their time encompassed everything it was thought could be known. Over time, the depths of their arrogance became clearer, and the New Colleges were created to better serve the needs of areas of study that had proven far more complex than we had ever expected.
The Old Colleges are the Colleges Divine, Judicial, and Arcane - the students of the Above, the Below, and the Beyond. The College Divine studies the gods and their nature, and wear robes of white. The College Judicial study the laws of man and Man, and wear robes of black. The College Arcane study the nature and magic, and wear robes of red.
The New Colleges are the Colleges Bardic, Scholastic, Medical and Mechanic. They are of less honor, and their graduates wear only the common brown robe of a magister. The College Bardic was split from the College Divine, and they study music and poetry. The College Scholastic was split from the College Judicial, and the College Mechanic from them. The Scholastics study history, literature, and philosophy, while the Mechanics study the principles of the natural world and of construction and engineering. The College Medical is the only college to split from the College Arcane, and they study the arts of healing.
The faith of the College Divine is unquestionable. Many of our own bishops are Magisters Divine themselves, and never once have they been known to preach heresy or sedition. The College Bardic is likewise beyond reproach. The Colleges Judicial and Scholastic may lack the fire of their brothers, but I have nevertheless found no signs of heresy among them.
I understand it is the Colleges Medical and Mechanic that most concerned the Council, but after a thorough investigation I have found nothing of particular suspicion. Their faith in the Pantokrator seems genuine, as does their righteous contempt of the Forbidden Arts. I certainly saw no evidence that the Medicals were seeking to claim immortality, or that the Mechanics believed they might build themselves a new Pantokrator, as certain members of the Council have alleged.
The College Arcane, however, is of grave concern. The College remains a secretive and tight-knit community, and the reds retain a tight grip upon the Archmagistracy and many county magisteria. When I attempted to speak to Arcanes, they almost invariably found some perfunctory excuse to ignore me and depart. I confess, I have no proof that they are followers of the Forbidden Arts, but I cannot in good faith say that they are not.
- Oelfwine of Blackwood, Inquisitor
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Post by Elizabeth of Chelms on Mar 27, 2014 19:09:16 GMT
With the reclamation of Mount Highgate and the thwarting of the recent attacks on Glanis, the kingdom has nearly been restored to its borders before the Cataclysm. All that remains now are the southern fens, a situation that the army is already working to resolve. As we are now beginning to enter a new stage of history in this broken world, I have been asked to prepare for Her Majesty a summary of all the knowledge available to the Kingdom of Man. To the best of our knowledge, only a handful of kingdoms have survived the Cataclysm. Our wayward kinsmen in Midgard and Ulm are known to have survived, and rumors persist that something remains of the empire of Far T'ien Ch'i in the distant west. We also know that the lizardfolk of C'tis still live, and that the Infernal Kingdom has settled themselves on the deserts south of Midgard. Finally, there are the remains of the Scelerian Empire - while some scrap of that once mighty realm seems to exist, it can not truly be called a survivor of the Cataclysm. Refugees from that land call it "Lemuria" in their tongue, the Land of Lost Souls. The High Council has determined that, while we certainly must retake the southern fens, of higher priority is defense against the Traitor God. The Lemurians have made several probing raids across the Styx, and while none have yet managed to find purchase on Manx soil, the threat of a possible invasion still looms. It is the opinion of the Magistracy that the signing of our treaty with Midgard was a wise decision, though Father Oslac has asked me to inform you that the Church disapproves of consorting with "heretics and witches." Our scout reports also suggest that the Ulmish are engaged in a war of their own with the Land of Lost Souls, and were we somehow able to contact the Kaiser, I have no doubt his forces would be willing to cooperate with ours in ensuring that the dead are kept down. The restoration of the Azure Academy has divided the Magistracy internally. While many of us, myself included, are happy to see our wayward brothers once again brought back into the folds of the Kingdom, there are still some for whom their arts are uncomfortably Wild. Last week, I am informed, ten bodies were found drowned in the Brimston fens, apparently the victims of some human sacrifice. This is no mystery - the savage Fenfolk are well-known to be practitioners of the Forbidden Arts, but many are very much uncomfortable that this has occurred so close to the recently restored Azurites. I have dispatched Launfal of Blackwood, a promising young Magister Judicial, to investigate these claims, but I am confident in the Azurites' loyalty. Finally, there is the question of faith. With the fall of the Traitor God, the Church has formally turned to embrace Your Majesty as Pantokrateira, but the faith of the people remains shaken. The Church has embarked on a mission of spiritual renewal across the realm, with the construction of new temples and the annointment of a new clergy. Particular troublesome regions include Werk Enum, where some still cling to the Traitor God, and the Golem Range, where there appear to be cults worshiping some heathen god of Midgard. There is also the question of the salvation of the Scelerians - those who yet live hang under a pallor of death and despair that the Word of the Queen might be able to relieve. Blessed Cenberth has journeyed to Eldregate personally to preach your word in the City of the Damned itself. We can only pray that he survives. - Hengist of Chelsm, Archmagister of Man
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