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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Dec 24, 2013 20:06:12 GMT
 The Ruined Keep of Kastellavrasul
Stadt von Irminsul, Ulmensreich
Middenspring, Ulmenjaar 1,260
"When my eyes first fluttered into alertness, I was all too aware of the oppressive blackness that surrounded me. A strange, ethereal sense of strength filled me and I sought to move, yet such a move was impossible. I realized that my eyes had not opened, and that I could not move because my body no longer supported such physical exertion. I realized that my spirit and my form had become separate individuals, and that I was indeed as dead as I remembered - yet my spirit still lived. There had been no bright lights nor happy endings for me, nor as the daughter of King Sigismund had I been given the peaceful death I had deserved. The chaos of the Malediction had not spared my father, nor my brothers, nor in the end me. The blood curse had consumed the council of peers and devoured the grand future of Ulm. My spirit became free, and a new beginning was before us."
The spirit of Yrmengardis von Avrasul was free to rise above the ruined shell of her ancestral home. Beneath the rocky butte the vast walled city of Irminsul held 30,000 souls, all bowed before the symbol of the silver moon - that crescent had been the symbol of House Avrasul, the ruling family of Ulm throughout the Middle Ages. Her spirit sought to regain knowledge of what had happened in her long sleep. "Two centuries have passed..." her ghost whispered. "I am cursed, or it must be so, for my spirit to be restless now. Why am I awake now?"
Irminsul had changed considerably - no surprise, since it had been razed during the Malediction - and was now mostly unfamiliar to her. Unnoticed she wandered the streets, to and fro, discovering what she could about her homeland's lost heritage. The Ulmen folk were still tall and hardy, well-muscled and thick of hair with the kind of noble, handsome stature that set them apart from other men (so far as Yrmengardis was concerned, that is.) The realm was in chaos following the death of the former Pantokrator, the God of Sceleria, who had once stood against the Ashen Empire alone. All sense of ordered government had collapsed and the Council of Ulm was now attempting to put things back together.  Tancred the Forge Lord
Prince of the Forges, Lord of the Forgiving, God of Might
It had not taken her long to learn that there was no new royal family. Upon her death and following the resolution of the Malediction, she had been crowned 'Queen in Perpetuity' and was now referred to as 'Our Martyred Lady' by many, who prayed to her for forgiveness and blessings of purity. The former God of Ulm, Tancred the Forge Lord, had met an ultimate fate in the Malediction - slain by the eldritch forces of R'lyeh. She had been vaguely aware of this in life - the priests of Ulm had suffered a great loss and their prayers were no longer answered. A great insanity had swept through Ulm and R'lyeh had been directly blamed for the decline into utter depravity and evil which had overcome their nobility. The practices of blood sacrifice had long existed in the tradition of northmen, inherited from the Vanir, while the C'tissian death magic of Ermor had blended with it to create the darkest of forms. Without any Forge Lord, they turned to Yrmengardis for their prayer - now she understood her awakening. In their prayers, they had created a new god and revived her from the eternal sleep that was death.
 Lord-Protector Alaric von Aramos
Hochmeister and First Paladin of the Black Templars
Without a King or Queen to rule over the ashes of the Kingdom, the remaining nobility had assembled the Council of Barons, which would represent the needs and demands of the greater populace of Ulm. Elected to lead them was always a great statesman or general who could defend Ulm against the threats of the Ashen Empire and heresy alike. In this era, Yrmengardis found that her Kingdom's saviour was Alaric von Aramos, First Paladin of the Black Templars and Hochmeister of the Iron Order. The Black Templars were an elite order of religious knights, who steeled their weapons with prayer and faith before riding into battle to crush their enemies. Alaric was an inspiring leader, but the council had fractured following the fall of the Scelerian Pantokrator and the Kingdom would need to be reforged with steel as the Barons scrabbled for power in what seemed to be the end of days.
 Lord-Inquisitor Odovacar von Alarsberg
Archpriest and Head of the Iron Order
While the Council of Barons ruled in stead of the queen, the true power in the Kingdom lay in the hands of the Iron Order. Also known as the Black Priesthood, the Inquisitors of the Iron Order had hunted down and slaughtered hundreds of mages and heretics following the war, declaring that all magic not sanctioned by the Priesthood was heresy. The ancient warrior-smiths of Ulm had been all but eradicated and their traditions subsumed into the Inquisition's clenched fist. No man, not even the Lord-Protector, is beyond reproach in the eyes of the Inquisition. They now preached her name - Yrmengardis - as the saviour of humanity and the one true God worthy to become the next Pantokrator. "Can I live up to this dream?"
 Lord Lothar Pendragon
Illuminated One of the Third Tier, Archmage of the Illuminati
The grasp of the Iron Order was not, however, quite as far reaching as they thought. Beneath their very eyes, Yrmengardis could now see a new power base had formed. Out of the ashes of the old nobility and those arcane wizards who had escaped the Inquisition's purge, a new order had come to light. Declaring themselves the 'Illuminati' or the 'Illuminated Ones', they operated in secrecy from the shadows, concealing themselves and their abilities in halls of power across the world. Their leader, a Manx Archmage by the name of Lothar Pendragon, was an aging but powerful magus bent on acquiring immortality and ruling the world from a web of conspiracy. Reviving the ancient practices of Blood Magic, the Illuminati would be the greatest fear the Iron Order could ever face - if they learned of their existence, that is...
 Herr Conrad von Ambosswald
Baron of Ambosswald, Marshall of the Steel Legion
Even within the rank and file of the military, things had changed. With the destruction of the warrior-smiths as an order, Blacksteel had become rare and expensive, forcing an adaptation in the military structure and equipment of Ulm. The Army still bore the name of the 'Steel Legion' and fought with finely-wrought weapons of Marignese iron fluxed with Manx quicklime. Even without vast quantities of blacksteel, her warriors could go forth wearing a sturdy plate cuirass each, as well as a fine helm, vambraces and greaves. Each wore a tabard of blue and a finely polished steel insignia of the Ulmen crescent moon. At any given time, the Steel Legion acknowledged one General above all others as Marshall, responsible for organizing the greater army in times of war.
 Captain Ulrich Wolfgang
Leader of the Rangers of Ulm
While the Steel Legion marched in the open and prided itself on discipline and might, the Rangers of Ulm were a different matter. Led by the former mercenary Ulrich Wolfgang, the Rangers of Ulm were organized around the concept of stealth first. Ranging the great wilderness of Ulm, they led scouting expeditions into nearby territories and specialized in pinpointing the locations of enemy armies and assessing enemy fortifications before the main force of the Steel Legion could arrive. In battle, they lend the support of their crossbows with expert aim and a sturdy axe for any encounters which grow close and personal.
This was the world Yrmengardis had awoken to. This was what she had inherited - a new Ulm, steeped with misfortune and darkness, suppressed of its once glorious magic and a far cry from the ancient reign of Tancred. The Riddle of Steel was no more, replaced by the Iron Fist, and now all its prayers were directed to her. At last, she turned back to her keep, and dared to return to where she had awoken. There it awaited her, a shattered sarcophagus that had once contained her remains. All that was left was a tattered collection of bones and her burial shroud, propped up onto the Black Throne. A new confidence filled her as her ethereal hand touched the polished arm of the throne, noting that it remained unblemished by time or death - such was the magic of the ancient tree it had been crafted from.
"The Black Throne once belonged to my family, as did all of Ulm..." she smiled to herself. "Now it will belong to me again."
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Dec 27, 2013 1:20:18 GMT
 Middenspring, Ulmenjaar 1,260
They called to her in the streets of the city, in the fields and farms, whilst hunting in the wood. They called her by names, and rumours of her awakening and her nature had spread like wildfire. Yrmengardis had not made herself known, and yet somehow they still knew. Someone was spreading the word that her spirit was stirring - but who? Was there a prophet in their midst, someone who she had missed? She immediately set her mind to searching them out.  A Map of the Realm Torn AsunderUlm was a state in chaos. Valanis was not what was once remembered, and the capital of Irminsul, once at the heart of a rich land, now lay just ten leagues from the great rift. The Ulmen River to the south still flowed rich and free - securing the major crossing point to the south would be of the utmost priority to Yrmengardis. The vampiric curse which had infected her also rendered her unable to cross rivers, even by means of flight. Now that she had an overview of her land, it was time for the God-Queen to take inventory of her assets.  The Black Keep of Castle AvrasulThe crypts of the Keep were not nearly as silent as its ruined halls, as she sensed the former Royal Guard longed for their return. If she wished, she could restore them with a wave of their hand, but to ensure they received the proper equipment and that their bodies were maintained...those resources were better spent elsewhere for now. She knew that she needed to restore this to its former palatial glory, but first and foremost came the restoration of the realm. Still, the power of death that emanated through the Keep could prove useful in the future...  The Black Temple, Home of the Crusading Black Knights TemplarThe Home of the Black Templar, the Black Temple was the centre of Ulmen religion and was almost unchanged since her days of life. The Iron Order and the Black Templars stood ready for war, unfettered by the odds against them. They praised loudly the name of Yrmengardis, naming her the Watcher of the Gallows even as they slaughtered heretics by the dozen. In life perhaps she might have quailed, but the brutal truth of the Pantokrator Succession War had already changed her outlook.  The Black Forest, Ancestral Home to the Ulmen FolkThe Black Forest of Ulm had long laid at the heart of the Kingdom, resplendent with beauty and mystic power since the old times. At the heart of the forest lay the City of Irminsul, and as the newly imbued Goddess of Ulm, Yrmengardis found herself able to gaze through its deep history. All the things she had grown with were now new to her, tinged with unfamiliar names and images of long past. Irminsul...the name was old, older than most in the land - it was the name of a great black oak of immense power - power so great that the ancient Kings had carved it into a throne to deny the Empire of Ermor a chance to identify and destroy it. Her throne...her city...her forest...everything now made sense.  Upon the Isle of Ashes hid a Throne of Ascension...
She turned her gaze to the council chambers of the Lord Protector, curious to what her people now planned.
"The succession war should be our priority..." Odovacar protested. "Our goddess must be awoken and must become the new Pantokrator. The people will fall in line before faith."
"I understand your concern, but the land is in chaos and the Barons no longer listen to us. We must re-establish control over the provinces before we can worry about the Thrones of Ascension. How many times must I tell you this?" Alaric rubbed his brow.
"We're mustering our army as we speak, m'lord," spoke Herr Conrad. "Obviously we can only gather so many of the city guard, but we have a patrol prepared to march out, we're just waiting for a few more reinforcements. I myself will be leading the van."
Odovacar frowned deeply at that thought. "This does not mean we can simply ignore the Succession war..."
"And we won't," another man said. Ulrich Wolfgang was a tall, broad man whose unkempt appearance belied a deep intellect and seemed largely out of place in the pompous glitz of the court. "I'm leading a small expedition out to the rock beyond the rift, the one they call the Isle of Ashes. We think a Throne of Ascension lies there, perhaps an old Ermorian one. I'm going to find out more about it, and find out if anyone is currently claiming it as theirs."
"An excellent plan, I fully support it." Alaric smirked at Odovacar. "Satisfied?"
"For the moment. What if another claims it?"
"Then we kill them. Conrad's armies are here for a reason." Alaric gestured to the Marshall. "Let us use the steel that is Ulm's gift, and temper it with faith in our blessed Yrmengardis, may she rule forever."
"May she rule forever." The others repeated.
Yrmengardis closed her eyes, spiritual though they may be, and sighed. It seemed there was much her Kingdom needed her to do, and the sooner she got started, the better...
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Dec 30, 2013 23:38:37 GMT
 Stadt von Irminsul, Ulmensreich
Alleyways of Niederirminsul
Düstinspring, Ulmenjaar 1,260 Rustling echoed through the dusty alleyway as vermin burrowed through forgotten trash. The smell was probably horrible, but it was the visual spectacle that caught Yrmengardis' attention as her ethereal feet touched the ground. She had not been to Lower Irminsul for long in life, but now death presented new opportunities - after all, there was no one who could kill her, why should she fear this place? She stepped forward into the alley, regarding the sight before her with disdain. Did people actually live like this? She knew the commonfolk had always been unpleasant to be around, with their rank smells and disheveled looks, but even so, dwelling somewhere like this seemed completely unreasonable.
Yrmengardis had come here for a reason - to seek the one they called the blessed virgin, who had been gifted with foresight by Yrmengardis. Fortune Tellers were not an uncommon sight in the Kingdom, but most hid within the Black Forest from the Iron Order, who sought to exterminate their art as heresy. It was not Yrmengardis who had granted them foresight, though - that gift or curse was something leftover from the Malediction, of that she was certain. She turned a corner and glided straight past the unsavoury looking villains who guarded the place, and phased straight through the door into the room.
This lair was the hidden realm of some shopfront: a warehouse full of goods for sale, lit only by a single candle which hung from the ceiling. Darkness was no obstacle to Yrmengardis, of course, but she could see how it would add the desired effect of instilling fear and awe into visitors. Another man stood guard, blocking entrance to a bead curtain and glowering at a well-dressed merchant whose eyes darted around constantly. Consorting with a sorceress would no doubt be seen as heresy, the man had taken great risk to come here. Yrmengardis smiled wryly and moved towards the doorway. This was definitely the right place.
"Please, come in." A soft voice called out.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- ----- Amalasuntha smiled as her client took his leave out the front door, giving her enough time for a sip of the whiskey from her flask. She held back a dry cough as the burning liquid went down, but took another sip anyway. Distilled alcohol helped keep the headache and frustration of her job away, but she had to be careful to limit herself - there was still a job to do. Looking up to the bead curtain across from her, she felt the presence of two strangers in the other room, marked by their astral presence. "Please, come in," Amalasuntha said loudly. Looking to her crystal ball, she traced her gloved finger around the full length of its circumference, gazing deeply into the depths for a moment. The crystal itself had no actual power, of course - such artifacts were rare and beyond the acquisition methods of someone as humble as herself - but she it had shown a positive effect in impressing her clientele. Focusing for a moment, she looked up to her customer. Normally, she offered a slight smile, but this time there was nothing but a stern gaze. Both of them had entered, while she had made it clear they were to come one at a time. "I'm sorry, I asked that you come alone..." she started. "Is this your wife, sir?" Athalgar, the Merchant Prince of tar as some called him, looked deeply confused. "I don't understand, madame...I am alone." Amalasuntha refocused her gaze on the woman, who looked as surprised by the question as any other. She was tall and magnificent, garbed in an exquisite dress of blue and white, fine shoes of carved black wood strapped with leather and silver. Her hair was long and wild, dancing nearly to her calves, but well cared for despite its behaviour. Expensive-looking furs lined a glorious cloak that draped over her shoulders, chained together with a large pendant of the crescent moon. It was only after gazing upon her for a moment that Amalasuntha realized she could see through the strange woman to the bead curtain behind her. "Madame?" Athalgar asked. "About my wife?" "She's not cheating on you," Amalasuntha lied. "That's what you came here for, right?" In truth, the sorceress had not had time to investigate the man's history, but there was something far more urgent for her to attend to. As she gazed upon the strange woman, she cast out her astral senses and could not help but be humbled by the immense power the being seemed to hold. "You...you are sure?" Athalgar seemed unsure. "Leave me, we are done here Athalgar. I have something important to attend to." The merchant bowed quickly and made haste out the door, relieved at her advice. Now the Fortune Teller and the goddess were alone. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, after almost a minute of silence, the stranger broke the silence. "You can see me, then." "I can...but I cannot understand you." Amalasuntha admitted. "I have met a few ghosts before, but never one so human, nor one that came to me without purpose. What is yours? I have tried to read your soul, but all I find is darkness and pain. Please, who are you?" The goddess' eyelids fluttered until nearly shut, and she grinned, revealing a pair of sharp fangs. Amalasuntha started out of her chair and reached for a silver fork, holding it up threateningly. As soon as she made the gesture, she realized that the woman before her was already wearing plenty of silver and she wondered if it really was the correct vampire killing weapon. Vampires had not been seen in the Kingdom for many an age, and yet the spirit of one now stood in her room. Was this a trick, was it no ghost but a real demon of the night? "Your name is Amalasuntha, yes? You are the seer the people of Irminsul speak of, capable of gazing into the past and the present." She swallowed and nodded. The vampire smiled wider, her fangs visible. Her soft blue eyes had turned red and the wild nature of her hair seemed worse, as it fluttered in a wind that no mortal could feel. "I have slept a long time, and now I am awoken. The Kingdom of Ulmen men slides towards oblivion, and yet the petty barons of the south and the west and the east deny their just obedience to me. So shall it be, I call upon you Amalasuntha to accompany Herr Conrad von Ambosswald, Marhsall of the Armies, on his departing sortie today. You will go forth and use your talents to safeguard my armies, and to restore in the Iron Order's eyes the legitimacy of your divine gift, the foresight which has marked you as my first Seer. I, Yrmengardis von Avrasul, have reawoken and named the Seers of the Black Forest to be mine, the Daughters of Yrmengardis, and they shall serve me in utter obedience until we have ascended to my rightful seat, the Throne of the Pantokrator." Amalasuntha collapsed to the floor and trembled in terror as the ghostly vampire moved closer, her smile turning more gentle. The goddess reached down to caress the seer's cheek, smiling at her before pulling away. "Do not fear the Inquisition, my daughter, I will see to it that the Archpriest and his men are made accepting of your nature. Go now, find the Marshall. Time is short, and your aid will be needed." Amalasuntha swallowed hard. "I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?" Yrmengardis smiled again, baring those fangs. "Do not disappoint me. I will be watching."  Amalasuntha, Fortune Teller of Irminsul
First of the Order of Daughters of Yrmengardis
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Dec 31, 2013 4:57:24 GMT
Schwarzsullen, Festhall von Yrstenburg
Damyrüngsommer, Ulmenjaar 1,260 The ceaseless cadence of marching boots finally came to a halt as the forces lined up. Conrad mused to himself how glorious the steel legion looked today, and approved of their excellent discipline. Marching in orderly rows, the sun glittered off each man's kürass, casting its warming rays upon their cobalt garb. The traitors were about to meet their doom: execution, be it in battle or in the stocks, at the hands of the Eternal Queen's loyal hosts. With a bloodcurdling roar, they charged in.
 The Battle of Yrstenburg begins.
With a glorious cry, the two lines clashed. Yrstenburg's hastily levied troops were dearly outmatched, with his elite boasting just a hauberk of thin metal scales and no more. Their shields were soft and wooden and their spears too short to properly handle the reach of the steel legion's pikes. Arrows from Yrstenburg's archers clattered down onto the Ulmen force, but the thickness of each man's kürass combined with the shields of the infantry deflected them harmlessly. The march continued. Nothing would stop the reclamation of this land.
 Yrstenburg's Forces are routed... In the end, the Baron's men were no match for the Steel Legion. The morningstars of the shield wall sundered their spears and shields alike, crushing skulls and shattering bones with remorseless fury. Within minutes, half the rebel front lines had fallen with only a handful of injuries and no fatalities amongst the legion's men. It was too much for them to handle, and the horns called for a retreat. The Baron's men were forced from the field, and victory belonged to Conrad von Ambosswald in the name of the Queen.
 "That was quite the display, Herr Ambosswald."
Conrad sheathed his sword, disappointed at the lack of a need to clean it. The battle had gone quite well, with no fatalities and only minor injuries amongst the troops. The entirety of Baron Yrstenburg's army had been captured at the Festhall, leaving little left to resist. His special companion had been impressed by the way they fought, and he was pleased himself to see that she had not quailed in fear at the battle before her. "Thank you, Amalasuntha. The Steel Legion is professional in the execution of its duties, these rabble were no match for our forces. What of you, my dear? Is this what you wished for?" "Not I. Have you forgotten I was sent here with purpose, by our Martyred Lady?" Amalasuntha smiled weakly. "It is the will of our Goddess that guides me." "Of course, may She reign in eternity." Conrad bowed his head, then said, "does, then, this please Her Majesty?" "It does," Amalasuntha said. "In my vision, Yrmengardis showed me that my fellow seers - nay, my sisters in Her name - were afraid to leave the Forests due to the turmoil in the realm. With Schawrzsullen restored, we may ascend together, and the Daughters of Yrmengardis shall bring the future of Ulmenvolk to light."
 Stadt von Irminsul, Ulmensreich
Damyrüngsommer, Ulmenjaar 1,260
Alaric rolled the newly drawn map of the world out across the table, revealing it to his council. Much of the realm had been ravaged during the Malediction, and now the destruction of the very world itself had torn the Kingdom asunder. Much of the northern half of Ulm - including the iron-rich Ambossullen (Anvilwood), had been lost to the void. It was unclear if the world beyond Ulm's borders still existed in a recognizable fashion or what terrors might lay beyond. The Steel Legion had retaken Schwarzsullen, but much of the Ulmenveld was now in the hands of petty Baronies who had taken the chaos of the sundering as a reason to break free. The first priority of Ulm was to reclaim its rightful territory, from Hauvensvörd to Stahlklavten, without a moment's hesitation.
"As you can see, we're in some trouble..." Alaric smiled wryly.
"An understatement, but Yrmengardis will deliver us," Odovacar said, offering his hands to the sky in silent prayer. "What news do we have?"
"Two important letters arrived today, and the news is mostly good. Yrmengardis willing, we may be able to reclaim the bulk of our Kingdom before the end of the year."
 Ulrich Wolfgang had successfully found the Throne of Ascenion and its guardians.
Alaric pulled out the first letter, cleared his throat, and began:
"To think we allow such barbaric forces to hold the holy throne..." Odovacar seethed. "This is unacceptable."
"Unacceptable? Maybe, but a delay we must accept for a while longer. The second letter brings us better news."
 "From Conrad?" Odovacar guessed.
"Correct," Alaric replied. He unfolded the next letter.
"He's curt, at least compared to Ulrich," Alaric said with a little smile.
"Indeed, you can't tell which of them is the noble and which is the commoner. Tannenbraun's Festhall is on the Saunspunt, is it not? Are we worried it'll be difficult to take?"
Alaric shook his head. "I'm not. I've already arranged for another squad of infantry to meet up with Conrad's forces before marching on the hills. I specifically sent more tower shields with the men, so that they might better weather the crossbows of Tannenbraun and attack his Festhall freely."
The Archpriest smiled back at him. "Unlike your predecessor, you are not an incompetent man, Alaric. I can see our relationship will be long and fruitful together. May Yrmengardis bless Conrad's men on their way to battle."
Yrmengardis watched Alaric as he left the council chambers, admiring the man's physique, his intellect and his commanding demeanour. He was a true Paladin of Ulm, if such a term could be applied to anyone in the country, and he radiated with power as the Lord-Protector of Ulm only should. She reached out and caressed his cheek with an invisible hand as he walked, leaning in to whisper words he could not hear.
"My dear Alaric, you shall be the first amongst the peers of my followers, and the first privy to my plans. I bless you, and will bring you to heights you never dreamed you could reach. Sleep well, my prince..."
With that, she turned her gaze back to the Kingdom. There was more work to do, and her Dominion must grow.
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Jan 4, 2014 4:59:52 GMT
Stadt von Irminsul, Ulmensreich
Düstinsommer, Ulmenjaar 1,260
Yrmengardis brooded within the depths of Kastellavrasul, casting her ethereal gaze across the Dominion. It had been a long and eventful summer, marked by the endless march of Herr Conrad through the rebellious Baronies of the south. Her realm continued to reclaim what was rightfully its. Saunspunt had been a one-sided battle, capturing the Festhall with few casualties. A statement had been made to the other Barons about what happened to those who defied the will of Yrmengardis, and she cast her pleasure over her Dominion. Baron von Krästheim was next to fall in the Middensommer. The battle was once again short-lived, as the heavily-mailled men-at-arms and knights of the Baron were no match for the determined assault of the Steel Legion. The strict crackdown on rebellion combined with the Iron Order's oppressive grasp had ill effects. Entering into the Düstinsommer, the treasury had become worryingly depleted for the demands that had been placed on Yrmengardis' realm. She looked into the levels of unrest rising in the Kingdom and debated how best to restore order in her realm... In her gazing, it had been made aware to her that a nest of villainous bandits had been located in the Schwarzsullen, rallying disgruntled citizenry into a local resistance against Irminsul and the Iron Order. Although the Steel Legion had mostly been deployed in the west with the objective of retaking Ambosstadt, this was clearly a problem she could not ignore. Yrmengardis reached out to Amalasuntha to seek out her servant's progress in rallying the Fortune Tellers of the Forest.  Her efforts, apparently, had been successful: not only had multiple new daughters come to praise Yrmengardis and her service, but now Amalasuntha had established for herself a new laboratory nestled deep in the Schwarzsullen. This ancient treehouse had belonged to a family of seers for generations but had been abandoned during the Malediction, letting it grow wild. Now reclaimed for their service, Amalasuntha had made a great discovery: a large pool of water had gathered at the base of the tree, surrounding it as if it were a moat. Though the waters were still and by all rights ought to be bracken and thick, it reflected the sky as clear as crystal and tiny shimmering pearls could be seen forming beneath the surface, imbued with Astral energy.  Leaving her servant for the time being, Yrmengardis looked to the west, to search for progress by Herr Conrad. She was pleased by what she found - the Ulmenveld was largely falling under the control of the Steel Legion, but what interested her more were the ancient discoveries made. Nestled in the Schwarzhüllen was an ancient temple, drawn to her attention by the prayers of two soldiers who had discovered it. Her focus was immediately redirected to them. They were tall like most Ulmen men, garbed in the cobalt blue of the Steel Legion but otherwise unarmoured and armed only with a short blade each. One of them cracked the ancient stone door open, spilling daylight into the musty tomb in defiance of its warnings. Vast piles of bones and the remnants of rusty weapons were scattered throughout the Temple's interior, all coated with a seemingly infinite forest of cobwebs woven by the spiders within. An unholy chill swept out of the chamber, and the terrified soldiers' hairs stood on end at the sensation. Panicked, they ran from the place and fled to their homes, leaving Yrmengardis alone to consider the fate of what she had discovered. There was nothing dangerous about the temple, of that much she was sure, but it had been dedicated to Death in times long past and it was clear the buildup of energy could be repurposed into crystals for the purpose of ritual casting. There had to be someone who could make proper use of these long-dead warriors and of this unholy place - but who?  Casting the temple out of her mind for the time being, she looked over the marching of her military forces. From Irminsul marched Baron Ulrich Paller with a detachment of archers and reinforcements from the Steel Legion. South of them, Conrad von Ambosswald marched on the Düstinsullen, where the two would meet to drive out the resistance of the Baron Allen von Düstinwald. It was likely they would offer only a minimum of resistance to the Steel Legion, and Yrmengardis' eyes were cast firmly forwards on their first great challenge: retaking the city of Ambosstadt. Although it was difficult to determine details outside of her Dominion, Yrmengardis was able to sense perhaps as many as two defenders for every man in Conrad's Steel Legion. Attempts to recaputre the city may need to be delayed until more troops could be brought west. |
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Jan 4, 2014 13:16:50 GMT
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Jan 6, 2014 0:55:31 GMT
Schädelenstempel, Überulmenveld, Ulmensreich
Damyrüngshärbst, Ulmenjaar 1,260
Adelais softly pushed a cobweb aside, letting it stick to her fingers before wiping it against the bare stone of the tomb door. It was an ancient temple, likely dating back to pre-Malediction times - or so her brief education in Ulmen history would suggest - and it reverberated with ancient magic and dead spirits' wrath. Necromancy would be particularly easy to manipulate in a place such as this, and the thought of that brought an unbidden smile to her mouth. Turning back to her guide, she looked the shaken man up and down with mild disdain. "What was your name again?" she said. "Marcus, m'nfreifraulein," he adjusted his hat awkwardly. "With all respect, I ain't goin' any further into there. I swear I saw the dead walk." The seer looked at him aghast and said, "Yrmengardis help us, no. You won't be setting foot in this temple, I'm afraid, it's far too delicate for such brutish hands." "Then...my payment?" Adelais smiled at him, then beckoned him closer with a wave of her hand. He looked reluctant to approach the doorway, taking short, nervous steps like a frightened deer. "Before you leave, I must warn you, this place is cursed - your departure alone will not change that." "W-what?" he stammered. "Yes, I'm afraid so," Adelais said. "Worry not, I can bless you to-" Marcus swatted her hand away as she reached towards him, eyes wide. "Keep your hands off me, witch!" Nursing her hand, she frowned at him. "You're a deserter, aren't you, Marcus? That sword is Steel Legion issue, as are those boots and your belt buckle. That's how you found this place, isn't it? Off hunting treasure while your former comrades marched to war in Düstinsullen. You're smart enough to know they'll be back, and the penalty for execution, I'm afraid..." "Is death." Marcus spat. "How do you know I'm a deserter, witch?" "You came here before. You were not alone - what was his name? Ah yes, Gram, that's it. You fled this place together, and yet you met me alone. What happened to him? Was it the curse of this place?" The deserter drew his sword, leveling it at her. "So it's true what they say, the Daughters of Yrmengardis really are fortune tellers. Do you read minds, or just see ghosts, hm? Did your seer's gift tell you that you would die today?" Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his bare iron, and she took an involuntary step back towards the entrance of the temple. If necessary, she could defend herself, but at this range she was unconfident in her ability to finish a killing spell before his sword found her. Talking was her only real option. "No, it did not - because you are not going to kill me, Marcus. If you killed me, the curse would never be lifted, and Yrmengardis would frown upon you for the remainder of your days - few as they would be." Marcus' eye twitched - she was making an impact. "Sheathe your sword, please. I have your gold here, all I wish is to bless you before you go, to remove the curse, so that we can part ways without ever looking back." Marcus stared at her intensely, as his miniscule excuse for a brain seemed to turn this concept over and over in his head. "If you'd just prefer the gold, perhaps..." "No!" he shouted, "you will remove the curse!" "I have to touch you..." Marcus lowered his sword reluctantly, leaving it at his side. "Alright, then get over here and do it, but no funny business!" Adelais approached the deserter cautiously, reaching into the pouches on her belt and withdrawing a smear of sparkling cream upon her finger. "What is that?" "A holy cream, blessed by Yrmengardis and made with shavings of Astral Pearl. Astral magic will help cleanse your spirit and purge the evil of this place from you. I need but apply it to your forehead with a spark of my own power to activate it." Marcus seized her wrist and pulled her close, pulling his sword up to hesitate near her cheek. "Hurry up and do it - but any false moves..." Swallowing, Adelais reached up to the man's sweat-stained face. Although her hand was a bit shaky, she successfully applied the daub of cream to his forehead, making a rough crescent shape with it. As she pulled her hand away, she sent a faint spark of Astral magic into it, causing a mild, pleasant reaction on the man's skin. "It's done. You're fine now, see? You can leave." "Not yet." Marcus grunted, not letting go of her. "Where's my money?" "I've got a pouch right here, a hundred silver like you asked..." She untied it from her belt and held it up for him to see. The deserter let her go and snatched the purse away and shook it a bit, grinning at the sound of coins inside. "Good thing you kept your word, witch. Unfortunately for you, I ain't much for keepin' my word. Freeze in hell, witch!" Adelais barely had time to react as Marcus' sword arm suddenly lashed out, swinging at her in a wide horizontal motion. The tip of the blade barely nicked her stomach, slicing open the dress but leaving only a thin red line behind. Collapsing onto her back, she scrabbled backwards as he cursed and swung again, this time vertically downwards. Rolling to the side of the strike, she pumped her legs as hard as she could and scrambled back into the entrance to the temple, rolling into its musty, dark interior before he could catch. Raising her hands defensively, she saw the frame of Marcus outside the doorway, a terrified look on his face as he gazed inside. "Curse take you, witch! You ever follow me, you're dead! Anyone knows I was ever here, you're dead! Ain't dead quick-like either, not like this curse'll do to ya, I'll make it slow. You ken?!" Adelais breathed heavily, dusting herself off and looking at the man in disgust. Next to her, she could see the ethereal form of Yrmengardis appear, looking down at her with something amounting to satisfaction. Her goddess had been watching this whole time? Why had she not warned her of the man's intent? "I am not omniscient enough to know when an unpious man seeks to kill, Adelais. You have done well, however - I thank you for your service." She had forgotten that the goddess could read her thoughts, but it made little difference either way. "Was this really necessary? I hate to spread such superstitions and falsehoods about the dead."
"It was the easiest way to grant him my mark. He may not pray to me often, but now his path and his travels will be clearly illuminated to me, as brightly as any faithful servant well beyond the reach of my dominion. You have done well Adelais, take pleasure in your success and to your current exclusive access to this tomb. I will be sending another seer to help you establish a permanent settlement here at the temple."
Adelais looked out the doorway, and saw that Marcus had found his way back to the horses and was now fleeing down the road at a quick gallop. "This temple is in serious need of refurbishment. Are two women expected to fix this place up alone?" Adelais spoke aloud now to her mistress. "Worry not, my dear. Herr Conrad marches south with his army - the conquest of Düstinsullen was successful, a grandiose testament to my will and to the Steel Legion. It was successful not just because of the defeat of Allen von Düstinwald, but for the yield of workers revealed by his household. Each criminal of his domain was enslaved to his household and pressed into labour until their sentence was deemed complete. I have made clear to them that this labour will be required here in the Schwarzhüllen - they and your new servants shall provide all the labour and service you and your sisters require."
Adelais raised an eyebrow. "My...new servants?" Something shifted in the darkness, and she instinctively jumped. Before her very eyes, a creature of walking bones shambled into the light cast inwards from the door, its empty soulless eyes gazing in her direction. Holding back her immediate hesitation, she held her ground and raised a hand, declaring to it: "halt!" The skeleton halted as ordered, and stood still as a statue in the shaft of light. There was no sound of life or soul, nor of any further movement, though its ability to stand defied logic or reason. The very magical fibre of this place had brought it to life. "It serves you now, nothing more than a soulless automaton seeking your guidance. So too shall all the beings of this temple, you and other rightfully chosen daughters. Upon this ground the Schädelenstempel shall be reborn, and from the north and the east shall come more sisters, and your order shall grow as necromancers and as my servants, to practice your forbidden arts here in the shadows of the hills where no Iron Priest may interfere with your work. In time, Ulmensreich may live or die by your order's work. Do not fail it - do not fail me." |
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Jan 12, 2014 0:03:20 GMT
Der Heilege Schwarztempel
Stadt von Irminsul, Ulmensreich
Düstinhärbst, Ulmenjaar 1,260 The great oaken doors of the audience chambers swung open, revealing the brightly-dressed courtier who led the Baron's delegation. The man who entered was nearly two meters tall and equally impressive in terms of his wide frame. Herr Hrothgar's helm was cupped under his arm and his cobalt cloak dripped from the endless rain that poured onto Irminsul. His face bore a proud handlebar moustache and a receding hairline of long chestnut brown locks was neatly combed into place. The steel cuirass he wore was enameled in sable and bore the golden dancing stag stag crest of his knightly house. "My Lord-Protector, with humility I bring before you your honoured servant, Herr Hrothgar Anderveld, master of his house, honoured sword in service of Queen Yrmengardis." Alaric waved the courtier away. "Yes, yes, that will do fine. Hrothgar! It is good to see you, my friend." Hrothgar laughed and embraced the Lord-Protector tightly, clapping his back appreciatively. "How many years has it been, ten?" he said. "Eight, I believe, since we put down the rebellion at the Needles together. I seem to recall asking you to join our order, but you..." That elicited another laugh from the big knight. "Earthly pleasures were never mine to give up, you knew that; but you had to ask, didn't you?" "Of course!" Alaric insisted. "You saved my life and cut down Baron Haldervoss, you couldn't expect me to just forget that, could you?" "I suppose not, but I continue to serve our Queen in my own way. Now, I assume you didn't summon me here just to reminisce." Alaric grimaced at him, saying, "I wish that was the case, but no. I need your services once again - nay, the entire Kingdom needs you. You brought many good men with you and the Steel Legion has assembled an expeditionary force. I can think of no one better suited to the reconquest of Östenhüllen than you, nor a man better suited to its Festhall." Herr Hrothgar grinned. "I would be honoured to serve, my Lord-Protector." Alaric stepped forward and pinned a broach on Hrothgar's cloak, a simple iron badge in the shape of a clenched fist - the symbol of the Steel Legion. Hrothgar leaned down as was tradition, and Alaric placed a single kiss on each of the man's cheeks. "Go forth, Baron von Östenhüllen, - conquer in the name of Yrmengardis."
Schädelenstempel, Überulmenveld, Ulmensreich
Düstinshärbst, Ulmenjaar 1,260 Several skeletal minions shuffled forth into the light to greet the intruder upon their realm with lance and bow held at the ready. A shrill, faint whining sound warned of their readiness to attack, but Urgek Beast Brother was not afraid. He slammed his clawed fist into his chest and roared at them in fury, attempting to intimidate them into submission, but the undead guardians did not move nor flinch. Instead, one notched an arrow and pulled it back, an unearthly purple energy wreathed the rusting arrowhead. "You are Urgek?" Adelais asked from the shadows. "Urgek dreams told him to come. Are you the whisperer?" the freakish brute demanded. The shadow of Yrmengardis appeared, little more than a faint outline, but stronger and brighter than she had been before. She was beginning to materialize in the physical world, but still had troubles doing so for any prolonged period. "Tell him what I desire," the Queen said to Adelais. "I am not - I am her daughter, Adelais of the Skulls, Seer of Ulm. Long have you and your beastly minions terrorized these lands, pillaging and slaughtering mindlessly." "So, you try kill Urgek?" "Nothing of the sort, my dear beast." Adelais felt her mistress smile next to her, that cruel, evil smile full of fangs that only a vampire could muster. "I am here to give your orders." Urgek bellowed with laughter. "You have no power to order me!" "I invoke the geas of Yrmengardis, paid for in ash and silver, may the chains of our Lady's heavenly embrace bind you in loyalty to my will!" The beast was no longer laughing - an intense pain seared through his body and he roared as he was forced to one knee, and his brothers collapsed with them. Their corrupt, mutated forms twitched and writhed until Adelais lowered her hand, and immediately they gasped for air. "Yrmengardis commands you to answer - are you aware of the citadel of Ambosstadt?" Urgek nodded in pain. "We are." Adelais nodded. "That is good. You are to march forth and attack the city, you and as many of your brothers as you can muster. Slaughter its defenders and let their blood run through the streets, and let no one stop you." There was a long pause, before Urgek fearfully replied: "so be it, my lady." |
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Post by Yrmengardis Avrasul on Jan 26, 2014 0:46:04 GMT
 Sullen von Stadthal, Ambossdadt
Damyrüngspring, Ulmenjaar 1,261
The Festival of the New Year was a time of great joy and remembrance for the people of Ulm, one that had become rooted within the very fibre of their being since the times of the Malediction. Faced with a great enigmatic history full of terror, they chose to fight the fear it presented by donning ghostly and skeletal masks and by setting great bonfires in which effigies of the Sanguine Counts were reduced to ash. It was a good and happy time in which peasant and prince alike could join in revelries without fear of judgment or discrimination, but to Yrmengardis, it was simply a reminder that nearly a year had passed since her awakening. She gazed down upon Lord-Protector Alaric, sulking somewhat as she floated above the canvas awning which shielded his entourage from the elements. Her chosen warrior was giving a speech, as she understood it, about the values of purity and chastity, and heralding the coming of Yrmengardis to this world once again. Common knowledge, it had become, that the Goddess was growing in strength - with the rise of the Daughters of Yrmengardis and a marked increase in Ulm's crop yields and productivity in the workshops, who would not be able to see it as a divine blessing? Two hours of speech and presentation passed her by, before Yrmengardis finally was unable to tolerate it any longer. Closing her eyes, she cast her invisible gaze across her Dominion to its far eastern edge, curious for what she might find. The urgent cries of endangered men and the whistle of arrows sailing through the air met her as she refocused herself on the sight before her:  The Battle of Östenhullen
What was transpiring in the east was not a battle, but more of a massacre. The Iron Legion formed a shieldwall in the centre and advanced ahead of the formation, deflecting most of the hostile missiles with ease. Stray pikemen on the flanks took an arrow here and there, but there was little that could stop them from closing the gap. Although Ulm outnumbered the woodsmen of Räuberhal only 3:2, there was no comparison in terms of quality or discipline. The Ulmen troops ascended the hills and smashed the hill fighters in a terrible melee which left few rebel survivors. Yet another territory fell to her Kingdom's ceaseless advance - soon she would be able to gather enough blood for her needs.
 Bored of the slaughter, she once again gazed back to Ambosstadt. Alaric had moved on to preaching of the troubles of heresy, and warning the citizens of the city against rebellion and dissent against Yrmengardis' name. Once there was a time where the brutality of the Iron Inquisition may have horrified her, but now it filled her with a sense of strength and malicious delight - even now, a dozen men in shackles were hauled before the gathered crowds and raised into the waiting nooses, held at spearpoint by the watch, who gritted their teeth in determination. "Lo and behold the fate of all heretics who deny the salvation our Lady Yrmengardis brings. May the Watcher of the Gallows show mercy upon your soul." Yrmengardis' mouth twisted into a slight frown. While it was true that she was watching, there was in fact little she could do to their souls in this state - a weakness she still longed to correct - but it was at least a small satisfaction to know that those who did not worship her in this land were becoming few. Since their arrival in Ambosstadt, there had been a great deal of dissent from the local population in regards to the rule established by Irminsul. The Iron Legion and Iron Priesthood were harsh and restrictive, and both refused to accept any quarter or give in the worship of the old Pantokrator or the Forge Lord, both of whom were of great ancestral importance to them. The only Goddess now was Yrmengardis. "All hail Yrmengardis!" Alaric shouted to the crowd. "All hail Yrmengardis!" the crowd shouted back. At that signal, the gallows dropped and the lives of twelve men were instantly snuffed out in a mixture of terror and pain. The crowd cheered, and for a moment even Yrmengardis paused in thought; Criminals needed to be punished, and to not give all one's spiritual oath to the Dominion of your deity was the greatest crime anyone could ask. Still, the bloodlust the Iron Priests had instilled in her people, whether feigned or genuine, slightly unnerved her. No, as she examined that thought, she realized it was something still far more sinister: it was the coldness that had seized her heart and the hatred of those who did not aid her that truly frightened her. As the Festival continued unabated, Yrmengardis reached up, allowing her spectral hand to touch the fangs in her mouth for the first time since her spiritual awakening. After a long pause, she dared ask, "am I a monster?"
 Baron Hrothgar von Östhullen
Warden of the Östenmark, Marshall-Lieutenant
The Stag Knight, Order Adept of the Steel Rose, Slayer of Heretics, Master of Räubenhal
"Östhullen has been completely pacified. There will be little more resistance, I'm afraid," Captain Tanas reported with a somewhat dismal look. "It's the easiest fight we've had in years, I'm actually disappointed it was over so quickly." "I've seen too many men lost in the many campaigns of the past to relax like that, Tanas." Hrothgar took a drink of wine from his pouch and wiped a dribble from his beard. "Better done quick and easy, we need every free sword for the march north. Have you had word from Irminsul?" "I have, my lord. Captain Ulrich Wolfgang has assembled his Rangers and is prepared to meet us in our march on Schaubslecht first. The Barony has stubbornly resisted even after what has happened to his neighbours, but it should be a relatively simple matter to show him the error of his ways." Hrothgar scoffed at that thought. "Simple? Easy? I wish it were so, but hopefully again we can have success against such a substantial force. You see, the Lord-Protector wishes us to form a defensive bulwark in the Östenmark, but that is something we cannot manage if our troops succumb to the fates of death. We cannot afford to underestimate our foe."  The Iron Legion marches on Baron Auden von Schaubslecht"What size of force does the Baron field?" Tanas asked. "I hear as many as sixty banners, and who knows how many men under each. Still, with Ulrich's men, we should number nearer a hundred banners, and the bulk of ours bear the Iron Moon upon their shields and their tabards." Hrothgar took another long sip, then offered his skin to Tanas, who politely refused. "A hundred Iron banners is more than enough to crush sixty rebels, such is the worth of the Iron Legion. I promise you m'lord, you will not be disappointed in our capabilities." "I trust I won't...I trust I won't..." Hrothgar muttered to himself, turning to the maps which adorned the table. All which had once been the Kingdom of Ulm in times of old was now known to them by spy and by caravan, who brought words from afar. There was little left to conquer...  Ulmensreich, Damyrüngspring, Ulmenjaar 1,261
Reclaiming the Kingdom
"Let me ask you, Tanas: have you ever noticed a distinct strategy in how our forces are deployed? Beyond simply retaking land from the rebels who would destroy our way of life?"
The question confused Tanas, who stared dumbly for a moment. Hrothgar continued. "Look to our borders and ask yourself what we see. Zeitfaust remains silent as ever, its oracle a sacred land no one would dare touch lest they anger them and tempt the wrath of the Gods."
"You mean the wrath of Yrmengardis?" Tanas interrupted with a frown.
"No, no I do not. We may pray to our Martyred Lady, but that does not negate the possibility that any other Pretender may see fit to strike us down. Then you look to the north and to the west, where the great rift lies - little threat remains there. Marshall Conrad has marched west to reclaim Ambosstadt, and now marches towards Der Grössul with never-ending stamina, yet the greatest of our forces - mine - should march upon the Östenmark? For what purpose? Our scouts have yet to report back from the east, so what do we expect to find?"
Hrothgar now received silence as a response. Tanas knew just like anyone else did what they feared to find, but it was true that there was little indication of a true horror lurking in the east. The tall man instead just leaned forward now and smiled at him.
"They're still kicking, Tanas. I know it. So does the council - the dead are not finished rising, and the greatest and final apocalypse has yet to come."
"Out of the Ashes of Ermor?"
"Out of the Ashes," Hrothgar agreed. "They're coming for us, and my host is all that stands in their way of conquest. I need in turn for you to be ready. Get out of here and prepare my men - we march as soon as camp can be broken."
"What about establishing a garrison?"
Hrothgar scoffed, "if they want to tempt death by rebelling, let them try. I'm not wasting a single extra man on this place."
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