These are the stories of the warriors of the stars. Mighty warriors from the lands of the West led by the great Chief Sittingbull. Most are told through the eyes of Zaren the Valkyrie
as of now red chapters will be diplomatic and blue chapter titles will be stories/reflections
Chapter 1-Letter to Raven
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loginZaren, Valkyrie of the West, sat in her tent... She was bored, all day running dull trade routes North-South-East-West. Not more than a week ago she had returned from the North. During this trip she had come to realization. She saw warhorses carrying crates of wax candles, exotic pigeons, and marble slabs. Men fit for war slugging sacks of food over their shoulders like mere peasants... This cant be what these fighters, warriors, trained killers, were meant for! This life was ridiculous. It offered nothing! Zaren had traversed nearly all of New Calraldia and yet... there was no longer anything to be found that interested her in the slightest. The routes to new lands which had once been interesting and new, appeared simple and monotonous. It was time for a change.
In the months her journeys had taken her, she had gathered a sizable force, one which although not battle-tested, had been trained and armed to the teeth. The soldiers were restless. Outside the sounds of constant sparring, the thuds of arrows and bolts hitting targets, and the neighing of horses filled the camp grounds composing a symphony of anticipation. "It was time" she muttered to herself. Time to harden the inexperienced, green army in front of her. Time to prove that she was worthy to command the men who had left their homes in anticipation of glory, honor, and battle. It was time to fulfill the glory that the banners of Astralis represented. Nearby the sounds of battle, blood, gore, and death sounded: in other words, magnificence. Even from a distance she could see the banners of the north-men as they slaughtered the pathetic dogs...the hounds of chulaainQuickly a thought came to her head, an...inkling of sorts. She called one of her personal guards over and requested ink, quill, and paper. Without stopping she wrote a quick letter and sent a messenger on the fastest horse in the camp to the commanders of the mighty Ravens of Valhalla.The letter read...
Mighty warriors of the North. I see your banners and the might of your armies. No doubt in few days times, the grand fortress of Halmar shall fall. I ask one thing
Allow me and my men to take the Fortress should it not fall in the next wave. We have no interest in keeping the fortress itself
Simply allow my men and I to have to glory of storming the gate and beheading the worthless hand to the false King...the vile scum that goes by the name warborn
We will hand the fortress over immediately. My simple wish is for the glory of battle.
I believe this will benefit us both. No more brave northmen will have to fall to the cowards who hide behind the walls, and I will being glory to my banner and my chief
humbly
Zaren Valkyrie of the West, sniper of the stars
TLDR-I wana attack something and burn a few troops. Ill give u back the city or do whatever u want me to do with it, I just want to attack something
Oh and this is kinda important. My personal army declares war on Halmar(while its under HoC control) Chapter 2-Prelude to battle
The Northmen under the Raven general Thorn have fallen back. The day has been bloody and while the Fortress has not been captured, a tactical victory can be attributed to the attackers. Though more Hounds lie fallen than those they have fought off, the realization of utter hopelessness begins to sink in. Thousands of men can be outside the walls. Men, those inside know will be at their throats in few hours time.
Zaren enters her tent. She throws her arbalest down: its covered in blood and gore. She was often too close to the fight today- never should a marksman's weapon get the entrails of its victims on it. Nearby she hears familiar voices, a female and four males. A bright blonde head pops into the small room. Phantasmal. She fought well today. More than once, one of her nevermissing bolts struck a man who was seconds from slaying an ally. Exhausted Phantasmal instantly collapses onto a goosefeather sack and goes to sleep. Three men enter the room. Striter, Tinoshi, and Mars. Recently Tinoshi has started calling himself Conqueefador and likes to shout it(CONQUEEEEEEEEEEEEFADOR!!!!!). Mars has come to be known as Valhalla Rising. Zaren really doesn't understand either name.
Zaren gives a quick suspicious glare at all three men. She thinks that they might have been fighting for the Hounds. She recognized Mars fighting style, Striters quick spear stabs, and Tinoshi's ringing MEDIEVAL SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPER during the battle. None of them had been at the pre-fight meeting at the Raven camp.
Zaren noticed some of the soldiers, especially the officers of the Raven force, were uncomfortable with the name Conqueefador. Still, fighting for the enemy? and of all the enemies, the HOUNDS???
The men quickly leave, clearly ashamed of something they won't admit. Zaren watches them go, counts to 100, and proceeds to leave the tent too. Outside Bran is cleaning his blade. More than one head was hewn with its sharp edge. Strangely Sittingbull and Luk, the two highest ranking Astralis, have been seen nowhere for a long time. Perhaps they are off comparing dick sizes or playing that dumb fantasy game Mortal Online...noobs.
Continuing to walk Zaren's mind flies to the action to come. The next attack will not be of the Northmen, but of her men. Throughout the camp, there seems to be an aura of anticipation an nervousness. Its clear in everyone's minds that men will die in the next few days. There are at least a thousand men still manning the walls of Halmar. They won't be easily dispatched but it will happen. "Death before Retreat" Zaren mutters to herself, she has no doubt that her wave will be the last.
A memory enters her mind. A poem from a time where Astralis was not Astralis, but was known as Invicti. That was a long time ago, but the poem seems fresh as the rain falling around her.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
With that last thought, she continues her walk around the camp in anticipation of the glory to come.
Chapter 3-Words for the Hounds
A rumor is heard. Many officers of Chulaain will disperse after the battle. Not from the castle but from the land. Despite the dislike and differences between her purpose and those of the Hounds, this somehow saddens Zaren. The Hounds have always been a presence in the Lands of New Calraldia and they will leave behind a hole there. Only time will tell what will come from their departure. Finished with this thought, Zaren goes back to planning the siege of the castle, yet with a different feeling in her thoughts.
TLDR(non rp version)-despite me not liking a fair amount of your members, people leaving a tight community such as crpg is always important. good luck in your further endeavors
"A message! A message for Geirvaldr Relit the Old!" the runner called, as he sprinted up to the crowd of men preforming the latest burials for the glorious dead of Halmar.
Relit the Old turned and took the paper and read it to himself.
"A bannerman of Astralis suddenly appears seeking to test his army in battle and bath themselves in glory. Well so be it. Who am I to deny the will of the Gods?". he said, turning back to watch the ceremony and drink his horn of mead.