The World Of Tyranoth

♖ Para Bellum♖
1082 A.E.



The hegemon for over 500 years, a nation that had brought people together whether by force or diplomacy, the mighty Valradic Empire whose patrons said that it would never die. Yet is it not the fate of all things to wither and wane ? nothing lasts forever and especially not power, the events which would orchestrate the coming of a new age were heralded by a year that held two moons in the sky. Sibyl and Vera, the mother moons whom were thought to birth a new age in the lore of elder aelves, now hung in the night skies.



No place in Tyranoth were the starred heavens more glorious or spectacular than they were upon the plains of Dor'vas whose people had worshipped the sky since the days of their ancestors.







Open fields and grasslands were crossed by escarpments, shallow streams, low hills and the occasional patch of forest stretching out as far as the eye could see until the lands faded from sight looking all the more splendid as the skies turned shades of purple and crimson upon the advent of dawn, mist fading from the ground as light struck. The herders coralling their animals in vast groups as they were lead to the pastures, horses mostly but several kinds of other strange beast as well. A life on the move, for the locals here were referred to the imperials as the " Koltheroi " which translated in the dor'van dialect of imperial to " Free People " they lead unsettled nomadic lives free from the walls of cities, migrating with their herds to grassland pastures and living in gigantic wagon homes. Living off the land, through hunting and rearing animals, the Empire sourced a great number of horses and hardy livestock from this region, bartering the locals various goods in return yet there was an inherent distrust between the locals and the Empire, whom were in contrast to them so settled.



The roads and paths were busy and you would witness the passing of the Koltheroi, most had never seen such a large assemblage of animals before, there was a certain magnificence in watching the vast herds of beasts, horses galloping across the open fields, steppe-yaks drawing gigantic wagon-homes and carts, and their strange masked riders whom look upon you with a brief curiosity before continuing on with their business, curious children and women offering a glance as well as you pass by their cart-homes.







Soon the noise fades to nothing but a faint rumble across the ground a moment of peace before a new rhythm takes it place, far more orderly, far more distinct, the eyes greeted by crimson capes and banners in the far distance, rank and file, where there were herds of animals now stood a herd of men and women, their locus, a large fortress built into the side of a mountain with a stream of water running through it and trickling down the water. The march of the legion is coordinated by banner-wielding cavalrymen and drummers which order their formation with visual and auditory cues. Upon a far hill, a centurion and his subordinate officers examine this march. The much anticipated change of the garrison as beleaguered defenders whom have stood here for months, defending the local are finally afforded leave, returning to the Empires embrace. A thousand men once stood on those walls, but only two hundred would return home after five years, of constant asymmetric warfare. Though all seemed so idyllic and peaceful at a glance, there was no mistaking that these land were besieged and at war, the people whom you saw moving off earlier, were infact refugees fleeing from the encroaching horde of orcs and men lead by an enigmatic leader whom was known only as The K'aan.







Which begs the question of why you came to these lands, it went without saying the Empire's decline was obvious to its allies and enemies, where once they could field immense legions now they depended on mercenary auxiliaries to supplement their forces, Dor'vas was only one of the many fronts where conflict and warfare raged on. That was the grand scheme of things, however Imperial gold and silver were still imperial gold and silver and they had plenty of it, others were bound by family oaths or sought some other favor from the Empire's influential lords. This would be the proving grounds, for those whom would make a name for themselves in the age to come. The beginning of their legacy and the conclusion of an old wolf's. You have come here chasing your destiny, for you will inherit the world to come, for now however Fort Aveston is your home.







The Arch-Legator, Marcus Leocadus stands over the walls eagerly awaiting the arrival of his mercenaries, his steely gaze passes across the open grasslands, almost as if awaiting a storm. The walls of the fort still not fully repaired from the last siege, the air itself ominous and unsettling, what brewed on there, in unknown lands, none could say, for the scouts only found skull mounds where once were villages. The fort's architecture was distinctly imperial, a red banner hangs on the wall but the question is for how long ?. Polygonal buildings, sloping archways and large pillars, thick walls and wide halls as the old bard's song went. Several duties were being tended to, horses drinking at the well, grain and salted meat being stockpiled by the arriving legionaries, a commander taking note of the companies and the state of the soldiers, weapons and equipment being examined by the fort blacksmith, potions being brewed by the resident alchemist. Traders and refugees had settled momentarily within the walls, offering their services in exchange for shelter and food. A small orchard and herb-garden was present within the fort, three distinct buildings were present.



The officer's quarter was constituted of tall yet narrow buildings ornately decorated and pleasant to look at where the imperial military officers did their work, scribes as well, a small stable and rest station for couriers nearby. The barracks was arguably the largest structure providing shelter, food and amenities for the soldiers within which was the armory, the granary and the hospice. The work quarters were where soldiers conducted other non-combat related duties, some were tanners, some were builders, siege-engineers, alchemists, blacksmiths and others each had small working stations to maintain the army and provide them the necessary resources, a small marketplace was present for traders to come and present their goods. It was an incredibly orderly and precise system, well managed and sustained almost as if one had exited the steppe and entered a different world.



Marcus was the custodian, the archon of this fort, operating alongside advisors, imperial officials and his officers to ensure everything ran smoothly. He was seen marching to the hospice, the healer looked up towards him with a degree of remorse, shaking his head in disapproval. A man clad in full armor, seemingly indestructible, yet a single arrow through the visor of his helmet was what struck out, blood coating the steel below, the others were far worse off, at least this one could be buried with some honor but the unfortunate party caught by orcs was mauled to such an extent that only limbs and pieces were recovered. Marcus's stern expression turned into a bitter scowl, as he marched off, perhaps the gods were punishing the Empire for its excesses who knew, this scourge from the steppes knew no mercy, they were unlike any barbarians he had faced before.



Marcus walked across the soldier, raising his hand in a salute and greeting them all as they stood in an attentive stance, greeting the commander with a formal salute, he could not bear to look upon the young faces, most of them would not last the first few months. Pausing outside Aveston's large door, which bore the marks of a battering ram, he lifted his smoking pipe to his lips, setting it alight as he gazed on in the distance, soldiers did not suffice any more, this age needed heroes.



Marcus had faith in the auxiliaries they contacted, he had heard greatly of this roving adventurer with white hair from the far north, they were fierce people many of whom had been welcomed into the imperial army. He also had the pleasure of having the company of his lieutenant, Evelienn, a clan-leader and friend of Marcus had referred the Huntsmistress to his stead so that she may hone her skills and learn the ways of war far from her native lands, he had her train and verse the recruits with the skills of archery so that they may become better defenders. Though the death of the Empire was lamentable, it was perhaps simply the path for change, Marcus was distraught with the nobles and their conspiracy against him, they had relegated him to this far frontier in the hopes that he should be killed by the enemy but he proved far more resilient than anything they could imagine, they could not kill him, neither by the assassins blade nor by imprisonment nor by dangerous duty, so instead they eliminated his legacy in a moment of cowardice. Nonetheless, an Imperial legionary would always honor his duties to the legion no matter the hardship or woes. Marcus was rather regrettably addicted to this nature of war, tough battles in particular.. the challenge gave him a thrill he did not want to admit to.



Theme

"Evelienn"

The arch-legator would utter in his usual gruff tone, sturdy and robust in his built, stern and daunting in his mannerisms, that disciplined military finesse never waning from him, clad in his regalia wearing the wolf pelt upon his shoulder with pride and honor, his armor shimmering, turning his glance to the huntsmistress, his expression softened, how the maiden could instill a glimmer of hope and courage in any man was beyond him, so full of life, not worn by battle as so many soldiers were, stirring even the commander's spirits with her words, sometimes even false hope could turn the tide of a battle and often, the value of morale was not paid it's due. He gave pause to exhale a wisp of smoke to the side across his lips and nostrils like a brooding dragon considering his words to her.

" My sweet child were I to lose you, whom i ask, would take your stead ? there would not be another to raise the spirits of these men and women, nor would they ever have any hope of hitting their mark on a target without your tutelage. I burden you with my words all too often, yet hearken your pointed ears to this old wolf my child, your fire for battle grows restless yet it is we who must tread lightly lest we be slaughtered without dignity. " he added with a humored grin, gazing upon her as a proud father would, letting her know his relief and honor at having her at his side. " Turn your sights yonder, and tell me what it is you see ? a damned place with not a tree nor hill in sight except this enclave that we perch open, my child, we are but voles under the hawk's watch in this domain, their people have lived here for centuries and in the restless nights I hear their mocking laughter as they cut down our ranks. I shall not have you venture out, after what happened to Felix, bold and brave as ever a man there was yet so foolishly convinced of his invincibility, hmph " he added looking aside in a moment of remorse " Foolishness and courage are separated by a very thin line Evelienn, Felix was as good a warrior as any of us, but lone wolves make for easy prey, remember, The Empire fights as a pack therein lies our strength, you are capable of handling most threats that come your way until you meet the one you can't. These steppe nomads have hawks of their own that I've seen kill wolves, should you value the life of your own winged companion do not send her in the skies yet... the orcs by themselves are but beasts, not capable of constituting a great threat but the minds that lead them are a different matter, if you were to find an orc straggler in one of your traps, one would assume it was a triumph before realizing they lay their traps on top of ours, each week some new tactic or skill, the bastards care not for standing and fighting, they have no honor, only bloodlust. I beckon for your patience my Evelienn, not now.. not now.. when the moment is right, then we strike, we shall not be playing their game of lures, certainly not with you. Hrm... tell me, have you readied your war-bow? I had the tanner send you a fresh strings... we'll need it soon... " he added turning and placing his hand on her shoulder " I'll need my sharpest shot in top form, so I'm not taking any risks " he stated with a smile, giving a reprimanding nod, knowing it was her tendency to sneak off behind his back on her own initiative... something that had never gotten her in trouble... yet.

Marcus would gesture for her to follow, as he marched towards the entrance, waving his dismissal to the spear wielding guardsmen at the gates that had begun to gather in increasing numbers, concern upon their expressions as they witnessed a group marching towards the gates, bearing equipment that had no resemblance to their own nor that of the locals, coming to a pause before the gates of Aveston. Marcus's steely gaze fell into Ivar's and for several moments there was a tense and uneasy silence between the two man, before Marc issued a rough laugh and a nod of his approval " Ivar, you magnificent bastard hrahah, it is good to see you ! I hope the children are well ? your arrival couldn't be more opportune, I lost my last skirmishing company last week.. as always, the reputation of the Skolderbrotva precedes them, Welcome to Aveston my brethren ! " Marcus gestured for their party to enter " Vinum !.. Vinum ! " Marc exclaimed to the servants, whom rushed to fetch amenities and wine ofcourse, he knew the Talgardians were fond of their drink, yet there were no bees here to make honey and hence no mead, imperial spiced wine would have to suffice, a barrel had been left to cool in the horse-well.The garrison continued about its duties, some guards patrolled the walls in uniform whilst others wore no armor for it was not their day on the watch, instead, they tended to various other tasks.



" Ivar White-hair, this is my lieutenant, Huntsmistress Evelienn, captain of our archers, Evelienn, this is Ivar of the legendary Skolderbrotva from the far north of Talgard, they've travelled half the realms on their honor to be here, to stand by our side. It isn't the first time they've lended their axes to the Empire, and i'm certainly glad for once those axes swing against our foes than at our shield. There is no time to be wasted, come, both of you, let us venture to the war room before we take our leave to rest and train, for the days ahead promise blood and steel, and if the next meal should be our last, let us cherish it as such and the company of brave souls. Come, the spymistress awaits us, she should be able to brief us better on the situation as we consider our strategy. "



The trio would proceed across the halls of the officer's quarter, dark quarters lit by torchlights, glimmering over the golden thread upon crimson banners and brass Aquila statuettes. The architecture was distinctly imperial, employing artisanal marble construct, sturdy pillars and ornate arches. Subtle sweet wisps of incense burned in small lamp stands giving the air a pleasant odor, welcome relief from the essence yielded by the stables. Sunlight beamed from the windows, and in one instance from the roof owing to a crack left by a catapult stone from a past siege that was still being remedied. Retinues of officials went about their business, scribes writing trade reports upon scrolls and convening with imperial garrisons further in-land, troop wages and rations being decided and heated arguments with merchants about the prices of their goods in other rooms. Certainly far more pleasant than the stone and thatch of the barracks and workshops, They rose up the stairs into the innermost chambers walking into a large room, the walls decorated with hunting trophies, a fireplace crackling away at the side and an immense dark wood table in the center, across which was sprawled a large parchment, a map of the locale.

Small figurines were placed across this map, alongside symbols, signs, and lines drawn over and a single red flag demarcating a crucial point. The slightly more acrid air was owed to Marcus's smoking habit, proof that he spent quite a lot of his time here. Books and scrolls were placed over his table, alongside several quill pens, behind his large chair onto the wall there was an immense brass aquila inlaid into the wall, it's chest was the bust of a lion, the seal of House Leocadus. Beneath this structure were gilded words " IMPERVM ET POPVLVS VALRADICVS " - ( The Valradic Empire and Her People ) beneath these were the numerals XII and the ensign of a wolf. A smaller phrase was beneath this " LEGIO XII LIBERIS LYKONVS " - ( 12th Legion - The Wolvenborn ) " Nothing slips past your vigil does it Rosa ? you certainly make my dues a lot easier, I hope the clairvoyance did not cause you much trouble " he paused looking on the table, seeing that she had already taken the liberty of drawing the battle plans along the map. " Hm, my thanks to you Spymistress, it all makes sense now, Felix's death was not in vain, now then, let us begin the labor of vengeance shall.. what an honor it is to be standing by your side, had you been there a decade earlier perhaps the Empire would not have been in it's current state "

He placed a gloved digit upon the map, trailing it along Let's begin



" Though most of Dor'vas consists of grassland there are certain crucial passes carved through stone and badlands, the Koltheroi call this place Akkalat, Felix was tasked with scouting, a suicide mission and if i had faith in anyone coming back from it, it was him. He did pay his last due as a legionary before departing from our realms, and it is thanks to the spymistress that we are able to use this knowledge, these black lines represent the movement of one head of the hydra as it were, a large herd of horse archers and warg riders that have been harassing our forces, desecrating villages and creating chaos, another month of that and we would run out of rations, most soldiers here are living off of one meal a day and it is an inglorious meal. Thankfully some of the villagers that have settled in the fort were kind enough to offer their livestock, most people here raise small steppe horses for meat and milk, rather unpalatable but as the old saying goes, all a man needs to be happy is a pound of meat and a bottle of wine, regardless of whether that is watered down. I am thankful that at least our soldiers are not weary as the garrison has been replenished with a new guard from the mainland whilst most the battleworn have left for their homes. "

1, An Imperial century will be divided into contuberniums of 20 men each, these shall form a preliminary bulwark against the enemy, we have intentionally left the left flank vulnerable, we suspect that whilst the orcs engage us directly, the horse-men will attempt to flank from the left and rout us.

2, We shall deceive them, for the left flank will be covered by Evelienn and her archers, whom have the advantage of range and power over the horse archers whom rely on the volume of their arrows, at this point the Spymistress will engage in a tactic to scare the enemy horses to force them to overcharge in towards a ravine in the rear.

3, In the Ravine, Ivar and his raiders will be waiting in ambush, they will assault the trapped enemy.

4, Marcus will move with the rear and right contuberniums backwards to block off a path of retreat for the enemy cavalry and regiments trapped in the raven, effectively surrounding and routing them.

5, Rosa and Evelienn will feign a retreat rather than continue engaging the Orcs, moving to higher ground to provide covering fire, the orcs will move towards the ravine to support their forces, Ivar and Marcus's forces will charge and engage them in battle preventing them from chasing Rosa and Evelienn. The final stage of the battle will consist of Eva and Rosa being placed on the higher ground, firing upon the enemy whilst Ivar and Marcus hold the enemy in place.

6, Victory