FACTION UNITS
LORE
Conquest of Valadir | The conquest of Valadir was by far the toughest Valerian had thus far faced in his career. Approaching the southern border with twenty legions, supported by four legions of provincial troops, Valerian paused. He had not come with full strength, as the construction of Kadasandra was being harassed by raids from pirate fleets, who were catching and burning ships bearing materials. Appointing Kemis Sadoran as master of the Imperial fleets, Valerian had authorised the construction of seven great warships, aided by the Ancillians and the men of Karesi, who had both fought at sea for many years. The Karesi had fought the pirates before, and turned away an Ashapuran fleet forty years past, winning a sea battle by scant means. There was no cohesive fleet this side of the eastern continent; the Sun Kings had maintained a fleet to fight off the raids of the Wolfborn, but this was missing in part, having fled north upon the conquest of the Sun Lands. The Wolfborn were being held at bay, but Valerian knew that he needed a fleet.
He did, however, have a plan, and this required the use of his best assets - the air cavalry of the Sea of Grass; the Spur Hawks. Leaving them and a decent garrison behind, he marched to Valadir. As his army crossed the border, they were assaulted by several thousand Valadiri, heavy foot troops in strong mail, used to the conditions of the north. However, they were unprepared for the sizeable cavalry force Valerian had brought with him, and were routed eventually, dealing surprising casualties to the Imperial force.Valerian proceeded cautiously, and learned that the mainstay of the Valadiri forces lay in the west, whilst some form of monastic order lay in the east. Fearing the uniting of the two, he stood half of his force, including almost all cavalry to watch the west for the approach of the Valadiri main force. Taking his siege engines and a hand picked group of soldiers, Valerian pressed east, scattering villages and hamlets in his way. He passed one stockaded town and left 800 men to prevent any threat from materialising there.
The monastery stood atop a steep hill, it's walls built of stone, high and thick - a difficult assault at the best of times. Atop it's walls the warriors of the Monastery stood, with heavy mail and white surcoats, they looked most unlike the men he had fought before - these were the Valadir Kyrini; the women warriors that protected the Halls of the Dead - the internment chambers for the lords of Valadir, - and the Healing Halls, where they practised great skill. Valerian was already prepared for why he must do, and he threw the might of his siege train against the building. For a week, he pounded the Monastery, and it's walls began to crumble. The dead fell from the walls, and smoke poured into the sky. At the week's end, he rode to the walls with only two men, and demanded their surrender. Three women rode out of the gates, their faces smeared with soot, surcoats filthy, but he saw no weakness in their countenance. He knew they would fight to the death. As in so many other cases, he reversed his tactics; he apologised for the siege, mentioning that he had been led there by men of Valadir, who had thought them an aberration due to their sex, and had been informed that they were the best warriors of Valadir. Appealing tot heir pride, he caught their meaure, and was invited in, partly to see what he had done; on his deathbed, he apologised to the sky for this deed, and he regretted it deeply, for most of the dead were simply women, healers and servants. The warriors had losses, but they numbered in mere hundreds from the very beginning. He gave solemn vows before them that he would repair everything, that he would forever take their cause as his own, and that he would see their cult prevalent within the province, when the EMpire claimed it.
He simply marched from the Monasteyr, and his men arrived at the gates, with axes for cutting timber, having altered the use of several war engines to carry heavy cargo to the top of the battered walls. There was also a great deal of gold amongst his 'gifts'. Three miles along the rode, he was met by three hundred of the Valadir Kyrini, who swore oaths of fealty and prepared his army for the war ahead.
It took Valerian over a year to temper Valadir. He won battle after battle, inched his way into their lands, then began to seize towns and castles, until only the capital was left. This was a massive strongpoint, and twelve thousand Valadiri occupied it's walls. His cavalry were useless and he has lost many men. The siege began, and his forces were harried from the start - small bands of warriors attacked every party to leave camp - the city led sorties to great effect. He had one way to end this - a direct assault, before his men lost their faith. Events intervened, however. To the south of Kadasandra, the Imperial Navy had defeated the fleets of the pirates of Hanghaven in three decisive battles. Having done this, they seized the Isle of Fleet, and built the Imperial Naval base there, already beginning the construction of a larger fleet. This had been aided by the SPurhawk Cavalry massively, but they had moved south to find and burn Hanghaven; something that even to this day the Empire has failed in.
Mournweaver, however, led the majority of the garrison forces of Kadasandra, unneeded due to the pirate threat's elimination, to join Valerian. The greater deed, however, was the fact that he asked a Dragon, Vyrylis, to take news of this to his Emperor, as this would surely bring heart to him and his men. The arrival of a mile long Dragon to the feet of the Emperor had an effect beyond it's meaning. The Dragons had said that they would never aid him in the killing of sentient beings, but the Dragon's landing created terror amongst the Valadiri; they had legends of these creatures - and this man had tamed them! They stopped all activity outside the walls of the city, and no more sorties came. Then Mournweaver appeared, leading thirty thousand men, and their fate began to unravel. Even then, they would not surrender, and Valerian was forced to assault the walls. During the second assault, he was wounded by a serrated spear. This panicked the Dragon, and it rose to defend it's friend - it landed upon the walls of the city, reducing an entire section to rubble, and it's flame burned the skies in it's anger. The city was alight for three days, at the end of which they surrendered, asking that Valerian aid them in quelling the flames, before the city burned - in this northern realm, all building were made of stone foundation, upon which rested a wooden shell, and they burned well indeed.
The Dragon urged all to remain outside the city, which they did, and he beat the flames with his wings, quenching them swiftly. The city, and the Province of Valadir had fallen, and it's master kneeled before Valerian in supplication. Magnanimous, relieved, Valerian named him and his family as the rulers of the Province, and lent massive aid to the new Lord of Valadir. Workmen from Kadasandra, now completed, began to arrive in numbers, and the Province began to rise well above it's previous station. The Valadir Kyrini were given shrines in every settlement, and they brought great knowledge in the healing arts with them, which made them wealthy, and aided the populace greatly, as did their status aid the society in other ways. Valerian gained new units of Valadir Kyrinin for his army, and the province was secured - with vast wealth in raw materials, it became a shining star in his crown, albeit being nearly the end of his EMpire in the taking. |
The Imperial Heartlands | Once the Province of Valadir was under control, and the rejuvenation of the province was underway, Valerian looked south, into what would become known as 'The Heartlands'.
Here, the situation was the strangest he had faced. The entire province was consumed in an internecine war. Here, twelve Barons controlled the majority of the land, but there was a swather in the eats, along the coast, that was 'free'; the Free Cities of the east were solidly involved in this war, as the surrounding barons sought to the balance of the war in their favour by capturing one of the three Free Cities. Their wealth was impressive, and their main army was mercenary, as they were far more engaged in trade than in war, and the mercenaries had great skill. Yet they were beleaguered, and their people had undergone their first levy; these troops were terrible, but well equipped, and their borders were consumed by several large armed camps as they desperately tried to hold against the attention of the neighbouring Barons, who were now supported by allies who shared the same goal. For the first time, eight barons lay in alliance, and they were poised to crush the Free Cities. Valerian saw his opportunity and seized it.
He sent forces from the provincial armies to the west, to attempt to being the remaining Barons into the war on his side. Eight thousand troops marched there, led by Mournweaver; their numbers were made up of troops from Atakash, Duinir, Dalthrasia and chariots of Telmior, as the lands of the heartlands were mostly flat or hilly, with swathes of light forest; this was good land, the soil rich, perfect for set-piece engagements - almost built for tactical warfare. fifteen hundred Silver Lancers from Saladir rode in Mournweaver's van, and he encountered only small groups of troops, who quickly melted away from his forces. After several days of marching, they came to the walls of Tremavaine - the first and largest of the Baronies in the west. The walls bristled with defenders, but Mournweaver set out in parley, a white flag representing peace - for black was often used for surrender without terms; white being the chance of life through peace.
In the East, Valerian led a much large army; fifty thousand men marched with him to war. Here, there were no expectations of peace - they all knew this would be war, whatever happened there would be battle, but there were chances of limiting their enemies. He was met in the north, two days into the borders of the free Cities, by a heavy force of mercenaries from the northernmost city, Avalaine. Here, he made a pact that cost him dearly, but he promised to break the cycle of war and death within the Heartlands. This was based upon the deaths of all eight Barons arrayed against the Free Cities, and the capture of their holdings in entirety, plus the semi-autonomy of the Free Cities in perpetuity. He learned of the strength of the barons, which outmatched his own, and of the disposition of the Free COmpanies - the paid champions of the Free Cities, which tipped the balance, but not entirely enough for his satisfaction. Each time he left a Free City, he was to leave a portion of his forces against the chance of his losing the war amongst the Baronies. Potentially a foolish decision, he agreed, and he exchanged twelve thousands of his men for barely that number in mercenaries and levies. He immediately disbanded the levies, sending them back to their homes and fields, gaining their relief and affection, which proved of great importance.
The middle City was under threat of siege, and he marched swiftly to the west, to attempt to come behind the attacking force. A good plan, but it marched him straight into battle, as he met the force the Baron were sending to delay his advance. A battle ensued, but he was down by twelve thousands and had only the Free COmpanies of the northernmost four armies of the Cities. He managed, however, to defeat the Barons heavily, and two were captured and executed on the spot. His losses were not truly serious, but he had the numbers in the first place. The shock of air cavalries had beaten their resolve, as they had many times before, and their engines had been destroyed minutes in to the battle, one Baron's guard obliterated and the man captured. It was the same evening, however, when the Barons' forces from the east and west arrived, attacking from both sides. This battle he nearly lost, and it was a complete mess. The onset of dusk had limited his response, and the Spur Hawks could not see properly in this light, so he had sent them to safety in the north. Losses were high on both sides, as Valerian's men were of the best. Their skill saved the day, and the baronial forces were broken, hunted by lancers throughout the night. Another Baron was seized, and he was slaughtered in the morning.
The next day brought troubling news; it appeared that the mercenaries of two of the Free City forces had turned, borne over to the Barons, to fight as part of their strength. Outnumbered, he turned to the lands of the bronx he had slain. Faced with a retreat to the Free Cities, he moved west, entering the baronies. Here, he met the largest surprise of his career. As he reached the walls of one dead baron, he was cheered from the battlements, and they delivered the bodies of the entire family of the Baron Faulnekir. It appeared that the folk of most Baronies had been forced into a hellish life where they faced slaughter and death at every turn; never peace and life, as they most desired - they had now risen up and he had gained both allies in war and a secure base of operations, and one of supply, which was the most dreaded possibility in this path of action.
Three of the holdings of the executed Barons had risen. They sent only six thousand men, but they had denied the Barons much, and Valerian was more than satisfied. Learning of the besiegement of the southern and central Free Cities, he was forced to the east and the coast, but he was leading a force in high spirits, albeit split into varying factions. He fully expected the mercenaries to turn, as they did, but not all did so, and he received warning of such. Two units - the Warwidows and The Legion of the Damned - and he surrounded the mercenary camp. Firign volley after volley of fire arrows in the night, they hurled pitch coated missiles in tot he interior. Many burned, but some attempted to break free, and were cut down in their hundreds. When the slaughter was done, Valerian called a council, weary to the bone of this stupidity amongst men. The Merecnaries that remained true were elevated in status, enlisted to the Western EMpire at a very generous pay rate, given permanence of employment, and they would form a part of the guard of the Warden of the West, once such a position was instated.
He reached the Free CIty of Amalaire, he found it under heavy siege; it's walls were broken and there was vicious fighting in the three breaches that had formed. He was glad to see Imperial banners amongst the defenders, flying high, and saw his men hurling back the attackers. Without pause, he split his army, and struck hard - three sections struck the breaches, whilst Valerian attacked the forces of the Barons that good back from the walls. The battle raged, as the forces of the turncoat mercenaries would not surrender; they nlnew their fate if they did so, and it was a terrible day. None had gained the upper hand enough to end this, and Valerian heard of the fall of the southernmost Free City; he knew that the Bronial forces marched north even now, and was faced with what seemed like a possible defeat. Sending Aerial scouts to cover the south, he found they were less than eight hours hence. He prepared to withdraw from the immediate city, but decided instead to break into the city. Abandoning an assault on the Barons rearguards, he threw his men at the breaches, bursting through two in minutes, sending the attackers fleeing. The third held briefly, but the defenders came at them in huge numbers, tearing them apart, despite losses, for the attackers were the citizens of the city, and were filled with hate and vengeance.
The Baronail army arrived, and formed up around the city walls. As they prepared to launch their assault, Mournweaver arrived, leading many of the free levies of the Barons' fallen Houses. He had allied two of the western barons, then defeated the remaining twop in a huge set piece battle. Leaving men to control, the investment of the defeated lands, he marched tot he east, to find a welcome, as Barony after barony had overthrown their 'leaders', each sending a few hundreds of their men to bolster a central army they were raising to march to Valerian's aid. Mournweaver gathered these men, and marched east at a mile-eating pace. He learned much as he went, and he learned of the dire situation Valerian was in. Sending many of the "free Men' south, to retake the city on the coats, he threw his Imperial troops east, arriving to the rear of the Baronial army that threatened Valerian. He knew his Brother's ways, and hurled his men in a section of tight wedges into the Barons' camps, aiming to take or kill the remaining leaders.
The attack began before he could move, and he saw the breaches under assault. His men smashed into the camps, obliterating some of the defending forces, but meeting tough resistance in some. Valerian pressed from the walls, and the breaches in the north and centre collapsed, but the third breach was broken inwards, and Baronial troops surged into the city. Valerian was a man of strangely contesting morals, but he led a part of his force back into the city, to prevent the slaughter of it's people, whilst many formed up to assist Mournweaver. The fighting was appalling, men dying in hundreds; most of which were Baronial forces. The City was bitterly contested, until the mercenaries had been destroyed; the majority of what remained of the attackers surrendered. Outside the fields, similar events occurred, with one Baron being captured by his own men. As they lat down their arms, many of the Baronial men cheered Valerian and Mournweaver. The mercenaries were rooted out and massacred. It is doubtful that nay survived the purging of their ranks, as many were known amongst the defenders of the Free City, and their rosters were delivered to Valerian. Not a single name was unpicked at the day's end.
Over the next three months, the 'Heartlands' were formed, given that name by the people that lived there, as they gave their hearts to Valerian and his fair hand at rule. The Free Cities were eager to match this adulation and gave up their status to form the trading ports of the Heartlands. The loyalty of this Province's people never lost their loyalty, never betrayed their new master - for a thousand years and more, they remained the most solid of all Imperial Provinces.
Over those months, Valerian managed to reforge his legions, and more came from Provinces...Kyrini from Valadir marched south, with men of that Province in tow, men from the East came in larger numbers, and new Legions - the Heartland Legions - were formed, great in number. He learned of the Daikini (which is death with elsewhere), who he brought heel swiftly, and then of the provinces to the west; Kiris and Taichondra, and of Nehemis and Caria to the south. Seeing the problems of the south in minutes, he turned instead west, to Kiris and Taichondra. |
TAICHONDRA | When Valerian studied Taichondra, he found a land of forest and marshes, inhabited by a proud race of humanity. AMongst them lived deeper creatures, and Valerian wouldn't consider their involvement in what was to come. His scouts were lost, each party simply disappearing, never to return. His Spurhawks could not penetrate the canopies of the forests, and thus he was sightless. Valerian was never a fool, so he led a massive force, sixty thousand strong, to the borders and stood alone at the break of the forests, standing with a flag of white, to parley with what awaited him.
Two days, he stood alone, his men growing ever more nervous, yet they obeyed his command, and nothing was sent to him, nor did any enter the forests. On the third day, hew awoke from a fitful sleep, to find a tall man sitting by a small fire, a fire that did not consume wood, yet glowed with a depth of colour, it's warmth radiating in the cold morning air. Beside the man stood a creature that Valerian had heard of only in impossible legends; it was one of the Ispir Rhysthari - a Taint Healer, a lizard, small in stature, yet it radiated power in waves even a human could feel.
Together, they talked of many things. AMongst them were questions of Valerian's mind and nature, for he could not lie to this creature. He could feel it in his instincts, and this, above all else is what saved him a terrible war amongst forest and marsh, against man and Lizard; and the deeper beasts that lurked in mires and fogs. For two days, they talked, and Valerian's dreams were of peace and calm; for the first time in his life he felt at peace, the things that drove him so hard gone from his thoughts, and he felt he would never feel the need for conquest and the testing of his passions again. He was wrong in this, of course, but he understood the importance of what lay before him more than anything he had ever understood before. He was shown images in his waking light, pictures of far events, in place and time, and he could see the task of the Rhysthari, could feel the need for what they achieved, and he saw the threat of many things to come. This was what brought him to build the massive fortress of Hedrin, what drove him to stop his conquest at that point, to progress no further, and he saw what lay in wait for him in Nehemia - how terrible that struggle would be, and how necessary it was. Much of the Elves' nature was brought to light, and he knew how to gain entry to the Heron Kingdom, to breach the lists that prevented the passage of any foe, man or beast alike.
At the end of the parley, a week had passed, and he walked from that camp a friend to the children of Ispir - the Rhysthari, and as Emperor of the new Province of Taichondra. At the forest's edge there materialised three thousand men of that place - the Long Knives, who would serve in their best capacity. He would find their skills invaluable in Nehemia, for they were the bane of beast or horse. Their lord was with them, and he stood at Valerian's shoulder for the remainder of his life. |
Kiris | After the Taichondrans gave themselves to the Empire, Valerian was directed by them to the land of Kiris, as the Taichondrans beleived them to be of great importance in the battle they would find in Nehemia.
Here lived the Lady of Light, called immortal by many, the great Lady of her people, benevolent and bright, and her people were wondrous in nature. Here had something unique come to be. Valerian entered the Province in peaceful attire. With him were most of his closest commanders. Mournweaver, the Lord Karan Ibelel of Taichondra, the war mistress of the Valadir Kyrini; many of his friends were there, and he was at the most vulnerable he could be. Kiris Adele, the Lady of Light was truly Immortal, in the terms of Man. She had lived for three thousand years, for she was Eleient; an Ascendent, given that status by the Elohim. An ascendent was a human that was gifted with Truth by the Elohim, gifted with the terrible grant of agelessness, for Eleint could not die through aging, nor were they easy to kill, for their life outside the flow of time wcould heal most wounds, reversing their flow to make them whole again. They could be killed, of course, but it took a bitter blow to truly slay them. With this Ascension came a terrible toll in many ways - easy to imagine what deathlessness could do to the spirit of a person, for they could see the world around them for what it was; all the cruelty and wrath of people brought painfully to the fore in the granting of wisdom. To see those you love wither before you, to witness all that was born of pain; this could break a person, but Kiris Adele was far stronger than most, and she ran her domain with all the grace that gave her her name - the Lady of Light.
She came at the rise of the fourth dawn, with her Lightbringers; cavalry mailed in the purest silver hues, their cloaks purest white, unstained and unmarked by dirt or time. Their lances were held high and their bearing was keen, nobility in their graceful repose, aching with a glorious raiment.
As the Lady Kiris drew close to Valerian, she found herself gazing down at a knot of men and women, whose faces were awash with emotion. One by one she looked at them, before she found Valerian, hiding at the rear. Him, she spotted and she dismounted to stride straight to him, kneeling to take his hand in hers. 'I have dreamed of you, my lord. In my dreams you are a light to the world. Yet you are not unknown to cruelty in the past, it has been burned from you by experience, and you are something to treasure; a base man raised high by his own hand, yet vulnerable to deceit, vulnerable to all emotion, good or base. You have the ability to make this EMpire a thing of stability in this world, yet it can also be the tool by which to destroy this fragile existence. I am torn, yet I would see this hope bear fruit, whether strangled by weeds, poisoned by parasites or brought to flower, you have a place in Fate.'
Valerian was bemused, as were his generals, yet they stood before Kiris like children and their confusion was evident, their souls laid bare. Some wept, and were driven to their knees, and these would have betrayed their Emperor in later life. Others stood strong, even those who were seeing for the first time all the foul things they had done in life, and their loyalty was tested, but found to be true, as were their reasons for standing with their EMperor, by his side in war and in peace. None left that scene untouched, and those who would have brought ruin in their lives were changed by this epiphany.
Valerian was taken to the castle of the Lady of Light, to meet her daughter,Loren, and to witness her domain for what it was. Hers was a land much like any other; there were those with great position, those with nothing, yet all worked together in the main; each had their place, and, despite conflict, despite the more deathly of human traits, the kingdom lay with one constant; the absolute of justice, mercy and truth. Where others simply wore this raiment, The Lady of Light, was made of this, and her belief in this was unwavering - in this, her people prospered, and they all but worshipped their Lady because of it.
A week of celebration followed, and the group of Imperial Lords and Ladies were shown many things; they sat to witness her courts, they saw that commoner and noble were treated as equals, yet they saw how inevitable it was for human nature to bring each into conflict, and saw how unfairness was always in evidence amongst people, yet how it could be pushed with softness to become more equal, and that a person could be turned to a better way through subtle means. Yet they ever saw the other ways of rule, for it became painfully evident to themselves of their own flaws, as each considered their own methods and beliefs, and saw the weaknesses in themselves. It would not change them utterly, or swiftly, but they would not forget this, and that wa enough.
AT the week's end, Kriris and her daughter gave Valerian an audience in their chambers, and much was spoken of. The war with Nehemia was at the heart of this, and, of course, the bringing of Kiris into Valerian's Empire was of much debate. Valerian gave his speech a deliberate and slow truth, and he spoke of his meeting with the child of Ispir, of his terrible temper, of the wrongs he had committed in his conquests, and of his fears that he could not be anything other than what he was. This was enough - to know doubt is the only thing that is needed to be a great ruler; for the lack of doubt in one's abilities, in decisions is the mark of a terrible dictator. To question your motives and your methods is to know humility in rule, and that was what leant Valerian the mark of greatness; to the Lady of Light, and her Daughter, this was enough. By far, it was enough, and Kiris entered the EMpire as a friend, as an ally, not as a tributary nation. This would stand for as long as the Lady of Light would have it, and she was given great stature in the Laws of the EMpire, to stand inviolate. |
Nehemia | Nehemia is a land of vastness. The north is filled with flowing grasslands, fertile, dotted with hills and small valleys. In the centre lies Nemeth, the land's capital, built by ancient hands, carved back into a mountain. It is a massive plateau, flat entirely. Throguht centre of the plateau is a descendin ramp, drooping at a pleasant angle through the depth of the plateau, to end level with the plain below, a ramp of 600 metres in length, ending with a great gate, vastly tall, strong, built of wood and iron. Halfway along the ramp in a second gate, smaller, but also stronger still, the last bar to any forcing entry. This second gate can be attacked from above with impunity, the defender able to rain death down upon and invader as they desperately attmept to breach it. SHoudl they do so, the city is wide open. ALong the edge of the plateau, they have raised battlements of stone, cemented strongly to the stone edge, giving some form of preotection to the defenders, yet these battlements are not as strong as the natural rock.
Deep within Nemeth are small fields, where crops are grown, and a natural stream flows through the entire city, to drop like a waterfall from the city's edge. It is a fine strongpoint, but not infalliable.
The south of the realm is filled with sparse steppes, and little grows there; this is where the more nomadic peoples live, driving vast herds before them, and many smaller villages and a few towns mark trading points, but are walled only by timber stockades, although some have small foundations of stone, topped by palisades of wood. This is a harsh kingdom to bring law to, and to conquer it is a task beyond most, but Valerian had been shown visions of the place, filled with darkness, and he had sworn to bring the land to heel, to bring some form of decent rule to the land, and to elevate it above it's most base nature. It is a harsh land, where justice is unknown; right is decided mostly by the largest force, and the desire to win through any means decides it's leaders. The north is less lawless, but it still is held by the ways of the south. Most of the northerly lands send tribute to the south, for there has been war before, and the north burned for it. Only in Nemeht reigns any form of government, for the clans cannot take the place by storm, and their leaders are allowed within only with small guard detachments. Law here is with purpose, yet it is withered by years of it's abuse, and few if any have any honour.
There is darker purpose here, too, deep within it's society, for there lurk things of evil intent, forebears of a future menace so great that it would consume the entire world in flames and death. This was Valerian's purpose in coming here, because there was little else to value in a war to conquer Nehemia.
NEHEMIA partII
Valeiran at last moved to take Nehemia. He knew he could expect no aid from alliances or promises, as history showed that they never kept any word they gave. Only a fool would naively walk into the land expecting to divide and conquer, for these tribes and clans were ferociously independent of any outside influence, and would unite whatever happened. Monies given would be sent south, to aid the defenders, and there were none that wished things to change - none with any ability to help such and effort for certain.
He had spent three months gathering the might of the EMpire. The East had come; chariots from Telmior, Dalthrasian Pike, Wardens from Duinir - ANgelbloods, Saladir Silver Lancers, Lionhearts from the Karesi...legions of the East. Supplemnted by Kadasandran Guard Legions, Ancillian Pitdogs and warriors of the Sun Kingdoms - Young Sons and small numbers of more obscure units. In the East he had the warriors of Valadir, the Taichondran Long Knives, Lightbringers from Kiris. Even Daikini forces and Void Knights were gathered. With a hundred thousand men and women he had come to the northern borders, yet he knew he was facing something different to what he had faced before. For the first time, he actually doubted the outcome. He was nervous, even scared. Above all, he was a man of action, and he threw these worries aside. The war for Nehemia began.
Valerian split his forces into ten groupings. Each had two thousand mounted troops at the least, each had five hundred Spurhawk riders. Four thousand Legion bow and foot combined, one thousand Guard Legion troops and then between two and three thousand of his Provincial elites. One force went each of his best commanders. Kiris, the Lady of Light and her Daughter, Loren, took one column. Mournweaver another. Marene Valak, Lady of the Valadir Kyrini led in the east, with Grimwell Haradh, Lord of Valadir in another. Taichondrans marched under Karan, their lord, and with them went three hundred Rhysthari Lizard-folk. Elsewhere the commands of Jensen Prowl ploughed onwards, Prince ANhedrin of Diakin led the Daikini and much of the Void Temples' strength and Imrin Elcontar, father of the future Warden of the West, led alongsideArian Sepcever, the daughter-Warden's future aide. Darian Lune led the tenth column by the sea route, to land upon the lands south east of Nehemia, promised safe guidance through Nidon Hal at the right moment. AT his command and his judgement were five thousand of the Imperial Marines, the armed forces of the Navy, based at Fleet. The last thing Valerian had done was to see his friends, the True Dragons, and discuss the campaign with them, and this had borne strange fruit indeed.
NOTE: In this time, Valerian had travelled to the Heron Kingdom, the home of the Ildiri, which I'll detail later (forgot, sorry), and in his army marched three thousadn Lidir, hidden in the garments of Imperial Kadasandran elites, a 'newly formed' (and non-existant) unit, which were basically Ildiri.
Valerian, for the first time, was the last to enter Nehemia, and his force was stronger than the others. He was warded by sixty Void Knights, the Ildiri (who had one hundred 'Masques of Idian' - their most powerful battle CHannellers), and had a decent display of other units; the Angelbloods marched only with him, as they refused any other psoting - he numbered nigh on twenty thousand once the force came together, which none other than Kiris and Mournweaver knew of.
The eight main columns marched south, but at a reasonable pace. The war would not be won by surprises - more likely they would be surprised themselves, and the troops' freshness was paramount. Each encountered little resistance beyond hundreds of gaping mouths and the occasional band of scouts of the Nehemian Ponies, the hardy platforms from which Nehemians often fought - endless stamina seemed to be their main trait, but they had others too, as would be discovered. The main eight forces were to open the way to Nemeth, but they were to scour the countryside and report the positions and numbers of all settlements on the way, although these were to be untouched save for their marking by Spurhawks, who would fly patrols over them consistently.
The armies made good time, and they began to see resistance gathering. One Spurhawk patrol put the numbers of one band of pony-raiders at three thousand strong, and many other bands were forming, albeit smaller in number. As the enemy began to gather, the eight armies halted, and each raised a fortification. They began as wooden forts, able to hold two thousand men, and five hundred horses, or two hundred SPurhawks, but the armies had carried stone, for it would not burn (and fire was a nehemian love in war), and the wooden palisades were slowly replaced by stone. Herds were brought with them, and now the forces began to gather in the herds of surrounding clans that could be pinned down, or small settlements. Each was given compensation in grain. Several small skirmishes broke out, and all Nehemians that resisted were slain or simply driven off. Silent eyes followed their passage of retreat from the skies above.
Thus a string of fortifications sprung up towards the ending of the fertile lands and the beginnings of the steppes, where nothing grew.
The progress seemed good. What seems good in Nehemia is not often true.
Two things cocured at roughly the same time on the same morning. The fortress under the command of Lord Karan of the Taichondrans was attacked early in the morning, just before dawn took a strong grip in the sky. A second attack took place in the easternmost army, under Adele Kiris, the 'Lady of Light', and this was the more surprising, and the more devastating.
twelve thousand or more riders of Nehemia attacked the forces of Taichaondra that morn, and they swept through the surrounding camp to the south of the ortress, finding it utterly empty, at first, as they burned tents will pirtchers of oil, cast from ponyback. As they waited for the blankets to rise, for the screaming to begin, and their targets to go down under Nehemian Horsebows, the Taichondrans, the Long KNives, struck. These men fought on foot, purely. They had no reason for horses, and they knew this to be a massive flaw, so they had trained their warriors for a hundred years to kill horses. Sweeping low, under the bellies of the ponies, they swept inot the riders, and tore them apart, the long knives rising, cutting, then releasing, ponies collapsing even as they swept clear of the falling bodies. They rose quickly, and the riders died along with their poines. Hundreds went down in an instant, and the Nehemians reeled. To them, their ponies were almost holy, and they had given them invicncibility time and agian. As their warriors reeled, the Lancers of the Imperial Legions struck, and wedges penetrated through the ranks of the Nehemians, to wheel and fight clear. From that point, it became a massacre, albeit with loss to the Imperial force. The raiders broke, leaving five thousand dead or fallen behind. Eeven as they broke, the Spurhawks swept down upon them, tearing ponies and rider from the ground, to break them, hurling them amongs their fellows.
To the East, however, things went differently. One thing that Valerian had no knowledge of was the Sky Temple of Nehemia, located in the south east of the realm.
Another break, sorry.
NEHEMIA part III
The Nehemian Sky Temple was a religious district, home of the Nehemian Skybulls. I lay in the centre of a vast area of steppes, a tall, twisted, mountain that was flat-topped, upon which rested the pillared SKy Temple, an edifice of white marble, ancient and strangely brooding, it's walls and roof streaked by burns made from lightning striking the metals on the roof, which hummed with a dull, insistent sound, rising to a roar during the heaviest storms. Aroudn the temple were the stables of the great Skybulls; huge horned beasts that rode on lightning, flying high in the sky, gathering energies from clouds, which they could agitate to bring on storms, or even gather sheets of glowing light to run along, their black hooves blurring with white streaks of lightning, like metal dragged along metal, sparks flying, hissing, scattering - in war, they could even send bolts of blue energy down, to smash into their earthly foes.
In this battle, they were unexpected, to be brief; they began the attack with savage strikes that rained down on the defenders' encampment - sixty bulls streaked through the sky and bolts struck again and again -tents were fired, armoured men cooked in their mail, hideously burned, their screams appalling. On the tide of this assault came the men of Nehemia. Three thousand Horse Archers rained fire into the camps, fire arrows torching the area, even as footmen gathered to throw oil amongst them, spearmen dealing with men as they fled fro the fires. All was chaos, until the Lady of Light appeared. With a hundred Lightbringers, she charged from the fortress, her robes flying behind. As she rode, light gathered about her, and flared inot the sky, blinding the Skybulls, who began to throw lightning everywhere, striking each other as much as troops on the ground. They fled swiftly to their temple, and the defence of the camp began without their terrible presence.
The Lightbringers broke through the attackers, and began to cut down the infantry, clearing an are, into which fled her own men. Many were dea, but Kiris gathered a decent force, and a surging wave of Nehemians broke upon it. Arrows flew from the Horse Archers, and they swirled like bird-swifts around her position. However, she had bought time for the northern camps to organise, and the Legions came. In the north were the horse-herds, protected more heavily than other parts of the camps, and the Lancers swiftly engaged Horse Archers. Many had managed to disangage the Lancers, but hundreds were caught in a vicious melee, one they could not win. Larger horses and better armour was carrying the day there, and then Kiris was upon them, three hundred Lightbringers tearing through the Horse Archers that had puled fre fro t he Lancers.
Elsewhere, infantry engaged each other, but the men of the Empire were outnumbered. Their mail kept most alive for now, but the pressure of the attackers was beginning to tear the formations of the invaders apart. Kiris managed to drive many Nehemians off, her attack vicious and desperate, and she returned to crash into the rear of the foot warriors. The battle wore on for some time, until the dead lay in mounds about the field, but Kiris was the light of Vengeance, and wherever she went, her foes shrivelled. Her mere presence was beginning to tell, and the Horse Archers reassembled and attacked, this time to cover the retreat of the Nehemians, as the footmen returned to their comrades, each gaining the back of another rider's pony as they rode off, each pony double-mounted. The day had not been won in the slightest, but the men of that tattered army were alive, at the least, Five thousand lay dead and the scorched bodies of the fifty Spurhawk scouts were discovered later that day - the warning never brought to Kiris that would have saved much of what she had lost.
She sent the remaining Spurhawks to attempt to locate the home of the Skybulls (Note: They could see the mountain of the SKy from their position of course), and withdrew much of her force into the fortress, which now became a haven, rather than a symbol of conquest. Designed for the comfort of two thousand, it would stretch to twice that, leaving a thousand riders and scouts on duty outside the walls at any one time. It was the biggest blow to befall the Empire at this time, but not the last.
Similar attacks were launched over the next week, and no single force had escaped engagement save for Valerian's own, by the week's end. For the most part they were merely probes, but there were losses on both sides, and no clarity on either.
The war took on a different urgency once Valerian assumed his position, two miles from the walls of Nemeth. He could see the disparate forces of Nehemians falling back to it's gates, and left them to gain entry. He had every reason to allow as many as possible to enter the city, and had men south of the city attacking and driving men and their families north. His own force camped away from the main 'road' into the city. Spurhawks ranged around the whole area, reports coming in swiftly of enemy movements, which were swift and highly organised, as the gathered a sizeable force. The entire Air cavalry was sent to strike at them in force, and they scattered the smaller bands gathering, splintering their plans, killing droves of their riders for small losses.
The main change in those first weeks was the emergence of Jensen Prowl, who sent his main force of men to the defence of their fortress, with new plans to extend the walls, taking his Legion Lancers, his Spurhawks and the riders of Saladir, sweeping across the sparse grasslands as they fell to steppes. He gathered more men from other commands, and began to punish the Nehemians, sweeping into their forces, one after another, his sword, Panther, gaining him the name he would later bring to the Ghaurchlai Genocide in such strength. His men rode like a storm of vengeance, littering the steepes with dead Nehemians, and captive foes began to file into the nearer fortresses.
It was at this point that the truly vicious warriors of Nehemia beagn to arrive in the more northerly lands. These were the best of that land, and they arrived in thousands. The more terrifying event was the arrival of the Gorecrows, two thousand riders, armoured in black, riding Carian Warhorses, stolen in raids, or bought from frightened fools. These armoured cavalry were taller than the usual Nehemians, and they were covered in mail, black plate, their very presence bringing a roiling fear that was nothing to do with mere mne. THESE were what Valerian had been warned of. When Jensen Prowl brought news of their arrival, Valerian began to plan for their demise, but even he could not have imagined their battle skills.
The siege of Nemeth began a month into the invasion. Valerian arrayed his main force across the expanse of the walls, calling in Boreal Harker and his men from the camp of the Lord of Valadir. Two thousand heavy foot arrived with banners high, and Harker was given Valerian's force, save for his Ildiri, the ANgelbloods and a few other distinct disions. He lft behind sixteen thousand men for the siege, and left with six thousand of his own. Striking west, he joined Mournweaver, and then drew in the forces of Imrin Elcomntar, who left behind a simple garrison in his own fortress. Long Knives and the few Rhysthari wandered into his camp a day later, and he couldn't help but smile at their betrayal of his orders, grateful for their presence. The siege bagn with a massive bombardment by forty siege engines. After two days, they abandoned any attempt on damanging the walls, simply tearing down parts of the battlements, and then the bombardment turned to one of fire and phosphors, endless and patient.
The war began to split distinctly into the western and eastern forces. Kiris became the light of the Eastern armies, whilst Valerian and Mournweaver led the West. Between the two, Jensen Prowl operated, and he drove deeply behind enemy lines at times, always retreating before the heavy cavalry of the Gorecrows. It appeared that he had become their main enemy in all of this.
In the East, Kiris led an attack on the Sky Temple, her men securing the lower paths swiftly, but constant storms kept her from rising much further. She chose to besiege the Temple at first, but her patience had a cost to her mens' belief, and she was forced to desperate action. Leading her Lightbringers, she began to advance further, and her forces battled with guards of the Temple for two dfays, winning slight ground, but she finally gathered what power her ascension had lent her, and she led her forces in a ball of glowing light that protected them from the storms. Each blow of the storms crashed into her light, and she felt the pain of each jolt, but her men surged up the cliff-lines, smashing through the temple gaurds. As SKy Bulls took to flight, wheeling to unleash their own strength upon her, she sent rays of golden light amongst them, and they withdrew, but her own defence suffered, and suffered from fractured ribs that tested her will throughout the entirety of the war.. Her men gained the upper reaches, and were met by the very priests of the temple, each of them elderly, a mass of white hair and creased skin, cross-crossed by tattoos. As her eyes fell upon the tattoos, she understood their purpose, and they, hers. None speak of what happened on that mountain, but, at it's ending, the SKy Temple was taken by parley rather than force, and Sky Bulls flew no more against the EMpire, but neither did they fight for Valerian. Kiris established a garrison on the Temple mount, and her Spurhawks were gathered there in force.
NEHEMIA Part IV
New orders from Valerian were taken to all commanders in the field. The centre of the East and West were to hold solidly along the same line as Nemeth, whilst the forces gathered under Kiris in the east and Valerian in the West, whilst Jensen Prowl carried his private war to the Nehemians. It was at this point that the Nehemians attacked the fortress of the Valadiri, closest to Nemeth in the eastern part of Nehemia. The Nehemians borke against the stone walls, but the Gorecrows were in the van, and they broke the gates, pouring into the frtress. Grimwell Haradh fought in the centre of the defenders, whilst Marene Valak led the wall defence amongst her Valadir Kyrini. The battle wore on, but the defenders were being slowly annihilated. Their reserves had moved to aid the fortress, and the battle was the most bloody thus far. Haradh was wonunded, pulled from the grip of the Gorecrows by Kyrini warrior-maidens. Marene led her forces tot he walls, and they escaped over the northern wall, as the Valdiri of Haradh were cut to pieces by the Gorecrows. Few of their number had fallen in the entire battle, but The Kyrini took one of their dead with them, to study their strange armour for weaknesses. Leading a fighting reatreat, the Kyrini managed to get clear, their legions linking with them as the rest of their forces were slaughtered in the field.
Marene fled towards Nemeth, and she was able to lead two thousands of the nine that began alive that day to Nemeth. The bodies of all dead in that battle were gathered, as were all that were wounded or captured, and the Gorecrows hung them on posts dug into the ground, calling down carrion birds to feast on the dead and living alike. When news reached the other warcamps, the effect was different in each. Jensen Prowl reacted instinctively, his fury soon to be felt by the people of Nehemia as he led the force known as 'Prowl's Panthers' to a new war, but first, he raced north, to the body of the Gorecrow.
Valerian reacted in wrath. He revealed the Ildiri in their shining glory, knowing that the Gorecrows would come for them, for they knew now that they were nothing of mortal design. Marching south, his men began to gather the folk of Nehemia, sending them north in large numbers, to be gathered by his border forces into camps prepared before his march began. Moving swiftly south, he sent Spurhawks to bring Darian Lune to battle, before m,oving towrads the centre of the land, to come behind the Gorecrows. He was met there by a massive army of Nehemians, come to aid their northern kin and battle ensued. At it's height, Valerian's men were surrounded, pressed on all sides. Outnumbered, he fought amongst his men, with Mournweaver beside him, his Ancillians fought to protect the Emperor as he grew ever more reckless. The Ildiri fought in serried ranks, their weapons bright with blood, and they fared better than any. In their centre stood the Imhrain Imrauhn, the fighting elite of the vaunted Swan Knights, and nothing would stand against them. The Masques of Idian were unveiled at the battles' height, and they threw ice shards at their foes, great gouts of water crashing amongst them, absorbing missile fire, then sweeping aside the riders who fired them. Time and again, the Nehemians attempted to break the Ildiri, and they failed everytime, but the Masques were tiring, their displays of power beginning to wane.
The sway of the battle moved between the two forces, but the magic of the Ildrii had exacted a tool; never had these warriors met anything like the Ildiri, never had magic been anything more than a nightmarish tale, and this Emperor was a great warrior, ravaging their best warriors; already the champions of five clans had fallen to his blade. He was a man that could dare to weara crown, and some amongst the Nehemians began to pull away from the fighting. Slowly, more did so, until, the lines had fallen silent. The army of Valerian stood in silence, whilst the Nehemians began to roar, saluting this giant of a man, this warrior lord, Valerian. They gathered their men and saluted once more, then they rode from the battlefield, leaving only their clan chiefs to speak to this Emperor amongst men.
The parley that followed was like a dream for the army of Valerian. They had been staring death in the face before the warriors of this mad land fell back, only to salute the EMperor and ride away. Such was unknown to them. As the parley began, they simply stared at one another, stunned, until exhaustion took them, or wounds claimed their strength, and many collapsed, or slid down to sit amongst the blood and mud that the battle left in it's wake. The parley lasted for the rest of the day, and, by the evening, the Nehemians had removed all dead, to be burned in honour. Such had been explained by their commanders to them - this was an honour indeed. After the Ildiri treated the wounded, and the Rhysthari had closed mortal woumnds, or their magic had reset broken bones, as if never broken, the Nehemians sent them food. Great pits were dug for the roasting of great-horned cows, and the madness of the day slipped into a surreal night of friendship that most expected to end on the morrow in the deaths of all of Valerian's force. Many simply slept, others ate well, for, if this was their last night, they would at least die well-fed. The morning brought different news though, for the Emperor had ended this small part of a larger war. The chieftains of the many clans gathered had agreed not to fight the EMpire anymore. They would not join them, but they no longer wished to see him dead. Instead, they would fall back to their own lands, there to defend against their enemies in Nehemia, or to rage against the Emperor if he broke his word. Even Valerian was mystified by this change; but he was never fool enough to turn down an offer such as this either.
The Lady of Kiris in the east moved gathered the majority of the forces there, and moved against the Nehemians in the southern part, below the Sky Temple. She broke a sizeable force, and pushed towards the border with Caria. Here she was met by the Iron Lords of Caria, who brought 5000 heavy horse with them, joining her army. These she sent to Jensen Prowl, whose target was The Gorecrows. An attack on the north east had led to a repulsion of a force containing a small number of Gorecrows, who were unable to retrieve their fallen, as Jensen Prowl prssed from the south. Their remainder fled, but bodies of fifty or more were abandoned. Prowl's forces claimed them and they were revealed in their deaths as something less than human. Prowl moved towards Nemeth.
Valerian had sent a mass of supplies southwards, to relive the Nehemians there from the blockade of food they had been suffering from. In return, they deepened their agreement. One clan sent 600 horse archers to fight the Gorecrows. Valerian moved across the southern part of Nehemia , to the centre, where he would founf Hedrin later. Here, he raised a larger wooden fortress. Darian Lune's men were housed here after their passage through Nidon Hal, and then marched north to join Jensen Prowl. The Lady of Light was freed to move against the last bastion of the southern Clans, and besieged their main town, Karkaudar, which she intended to bring to heel without violence.
In the north, the Gorecrows assaulted the forces of Arian Sepcever outside Nemeth, and his forces were barely holding their ground against their terrible foes. No forces issued from Nemeth, and it was later discovered why this was - Sepcever was grateful for that respite, but his men were falling around him, and he knew they would not last the day. This entire horror was shattered by Jensen Prowl's arrival. Riding at the head of his own horse, flanked by the Lords of Caria, he struck the Gorecrows, who had turned to meet him. Hi infantry and archers moved in on both flanks, and the Nehemians began to fall in numbers. Sepcever held his ground for the beginning, his men breathing at last, the intensity of terror the Gorecrows had wrought on them fading.
The Gorecrows fought like demons, and the clash was horrific. Carians and Imperial forces died in droves. As the courage of the Carians faded before the Gorecrows, the Lady of Light arrived with her Lightbringers of Kiris. She had left the majority of her forces some miles distant, maybe a day or more's march, but she had seen the danger Prowl was in. Despite the Nehemians breaking around the knot of horsemen, the Gorecrows were turning Prowl's men. He was a giant, and he slew two dozen men alone. The Lady of Kiris struck the Gorecrows, and light blazed from her being. Their intense magic dispersed, they were vulnerable, and Prowl's men grew in purpose. The Carians roared their new-found vigour, and the Gorecrows were torn apart, their ranks crumbling. They did not break, or run, and it is said that not a single one lived or was captured. Those that were not slain in battle took their own lives before capture.
The Nehemians were already in tatters. Many has surrendered before the Gorecrows failed, and the few that fought until that moment fell silent, filled with a stupor. At the last, the gates of Nememth opened, and a knot of riders slowly moved amongst the dead, to stand before Prowl and the Lady of Kiris. They had brought with them a number of chieftains, and the bodies of some of the Gorecrows, whom they delivered for execution, citing their crimes. As a whole, the city surrendered, and the news of their struggles within their walls was given. Surrender had been in their hearts for some time, but the more violent of the commanders had swiftly executed all who spoke of such.
With the fall of Nemeth, the war was over for the most part, and Valerian followed his methods elsewhere, delivering huge amounts of aid, hunting down the more oppressive and lawless of the Nehemian chiefs, whilst allowing them to settle their lands in their own lawful ways. Whilst doubts lingered in some hearts, many applauded Valerian as a saviour, as the brutal hold of the south was broken, the north ruled as equals, and the better of men in the south given freedom to govern to their best ability. |
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