The Rose Record | Issue Seven

[canaaa]

Tuesday, November 19, 307 AC - 2 Regals - Issue Seven

All proceeds from this issue will be donated to veteran's funds around the city to support those who served our Empire so valiantly in the Dread War.

FROM THE WARFRONT: AN ACCOUNT BY
THE YOUNG WOLF, GENERAL ALDWYN HOWLESTER
16 November
Penned by Aldwyn Howlester. @Anarchizm ​

The 4th Field Army under my command was stationed on the left flank. Our objective was simple; Soften the left flank with artillery fire and archer fire as they make their approach. Then hold the onslaught with tenpenny forces long enough to wear down the enemy so that a counter-attack could be made with a fresh unit of Highland berserkers. Though their numbers were imposing, I had the utmost confidence in my army and in my fellow Generals. Most of all, I had faith in our plan. I truly believed that we could win the battle.

I remember looking across the field and seeing the colossal army of the enemy. They swarmed across the terrain like locusts across wheat fields. We heard their echoed chants in their sinister tongue sounding through the cool winter air from our positions. Yet the sounds which came from their warriors were nothing compared to the noise that came from Rikkira as she announced her presence on the battlefield. We saw her soaring through the sky after our barrage of arrows and cannon-fire. She headed straight for us, targeting the flanks of our large contingent.

There was nothing that we could do as the ancient creature wreaked havoc on our lines, leaving burning corpses in her wake. Thankfully, she was intercepted by the Imperial Dragon before she could do more harm to our soldiers. The Highlanders among my ranks who were held in reserve cheered and yelled out, shouting insults at the enemy. Filled with adrenaline and a fire in their bellies as the Imperial Dragon matched Rikkira's strength. Their excitement rejuvenating the bloodied tenpenny ranks in the process. It was a sight to behold, something out of a book.

With the Imperial Dragon engaging Rikkira, we were able to focus and continue our attack for a time. Standing our ground and pushing back the enemy ranks. It was a bloody and gruesome back and forth that resulted in many casualties on both sides. The stakes were high and the pressure mounted. I remember turning to my Commanders, sending them all in as the dead on our side as well as across the rest of the battlefield began to rise up and attack our own. With emotionless glowing green eyes, they did the bidding of the Dread Dragon. Attacking their comrades and forcing us back. This was the darkest moment of the battle for the left flank.

I watched with anger as our lines were pushed. Catching sight of my cousin, Edmure who yelled out my name. It was during this moment, in the thick of the fight that I was shot off my horse while shouting at my Commander. It hung from my shoulder and blood seeped from the wound. As I lay on the ground and looked up at the sky I could see Rikkira ascending with the Imperial Dragon. Fading away once they reached past the clouds, disappearing completely into them.

With Rikkira no longer there to bolster morale or control the undead which she had risen during the battle I stood up and snapped the arrow that hung from my shoulder in half, snatching the telescope from my cousin's grasp. I looked through Edmure's telescope and saw the weakness he had pointed out, before I look to my left seeing that the Typhonus line had surprisingly held the onslaught, aswell. With both these things in mind, I made the executive decision to send in the rest of the Highlanders.

With a bit of effort, I managed to unsheath my great-sword, holding it up for them to see before planting it in the ground as they charged into the ranks. The exhausted tenpenny's parted and took the flanks while my Highlanders punched a gap into the center of the left. I barked out orders alongside my father who sat atop his horse with a cigar hanging from his mouth. The Kathar across the field had lost heart with their Dread Dragon nowhere in sight. They wavered before pockets began to retreat.

At the sight of the retreating enemy, I was filled with both relief and adrenaline. I mounted my horse and ran down a few of the scum alongside the Highlanders who were still eager for battle. The day was won. But the victory had come at a great cost. I felt pain for the men and women who fell for our Empire. I said a prayer as we went back to our camps to reconvene as night fell. The battle and the war was won. Most of all, that burden was lifted. I was finally able to rest knowing my job ending the conflict was done. My duty to the Empire complete.

I imagine it must have been quite a spectacle for those who watched from afar. They got a chance to witness two military powers going head to head in a final battle to determine the outcome of a war. That's what it felt like, at least. The stakes of the battle were a weight on my shoulders that wasn't lifted until the outcome was decided. All that I had worked for led up to that moment. It was stressful, as you might imagine. Thankfully, I managed to still my nerves, for the sense of urgency was far greater than the brief sense of dread I felt. It helped to have my father, my greatest mentor and critic at my side during the battle. His work ethic and commitment to excellence were contagious.

I'll end my account of the battle with an old saying, "True soldiers fight not because what they hate is in front of them, but because what they love is behind them." As the proud General of the 4th Field Army, I can wholeheartedly say with the utmost certainty that everyone who fought under my banner did that. They each fought valiantly for their love of our Great Empire, for the love of their families, and the love of their people. To all who have supported us in these dark times during the Kathar War, thank you. Your sacrifices will not be forgotten. Let us begin a new era of prosperity and enlightenment. Glory to the Empire.

Ser Aldwyn Oswald Howlester
Grand Constable of the Violet Order
Field General of the 4th Army​

THE SILVER EAGLE'S FLAMING BANNER: AN ACCOUNT BY
FIELD COMMANDER ALBERIC TYPHONUS
17 November
Penned by Alberic Typhonus. @Natannine ​

There we were, standing on the Dread soil, waiting for our final orders before we did battle with the Kathar. We witnessed the Imperial Dragon falling from the sky like that of a shooting star across the sky. The morale significantly ascended, to fight for our struggling comrade and brother in arms: To do it for the Spirit, the Imperial Dragon. As the battle began to kick off, the field commanders barked their final orders and speeches. Even though despair rose thick like smoke around us, threatening to choke us, we held onto the one thing we still had: hope.

We saw the Imperial Dragon will himself from the mud to a stand, looking as if he had been fought by thousands of men. He was shaking but he stood bloodied, bandaged and nothing short of worn out in his assault against Rikkira. But he fought her, for our sake, for the Empire's sake.

The columns began to move, as the other field commanders and Ibegan mobilization of our forces against the opposing Kathar. We gained the tip that Harhold and Termini began to shatter under the pressure, and all eyes were on the Typhonus forces to hold the center. We quickly organized our Tenpennies and Dwarven forces together. Commander Baal'ial and her squadron quickly fell down in the count, before Falkenwrath and the Qar-Digmaan went to take recovery measures. We began to falter and began to be pushed back upon the field. With downed commanders and far fewer forces holding the line, the center began to buckle.

I took a quick measure.I saw the outnumbered forces, and I saw that if we didn't get immediate reinforcements we were as good as bread and butter. On the overcast battlefield, I set a torch to the Typhonus banner, waving the flaming thing high over my head in a signal of distress in the hope to capture the Howlester column's attention. The Howlester General accommodated the need for additional support with artillery and archers alike. We took the orders from the Imperial Court Marshal to hold our lines to heart and attempted to hold out for victory, no matter the cost.

As we continued to push on, my gaze returned to the tent, becoming under assault as the Kathar forces mobilized its direction. As we saw Typhonus Tenpennies valiantly defend the Generals. I saw a blade swiftly make through a Kathar like butter from the elder General Ulric Typhonus, and men rushed out of the tent. My own cousin, Elros, held his hand out, sacrificing it in defense of the General's life. Men rallied to carry Field General Reimar Typhonus to rush him to a medical tent, blood spraying from the young General's leg as he was ultimately unable to will himself to walk. It was a sight that matched the battle's course.

Hours of battle, adversity, and blood ensued. The Generals delivered their order to continue to push the defense of the line, in an attempt to push the Kathar back to the Black Mountain pass. The war was all but won as the Kathar began to retreat. Our men saw the sheer effort, willpower and demonstration of Regalian power. As we reconvened, we all held a prayer for those brothers, husbands, and sons whom we had lost upon our days in the Moors. With a narrow margin of victory, we retreated home. The mood was celebratory but somber. We had held our hand out against the Dread Empire but suffered scars that will never disappear as a result of it.

Ser Alberic Johann Typhonus
Ordained Servant of the Spirit
Fervent Knight of the Ranger Order
Oberst of The Crimson Inquisition
Field Commander of the Typhonus Army​

THE BLISSFUL BURDIGALA
16 November
Penned by Henric of Heeresveen. @HydraLana ​

Burdigalans are some of the most content and joyous people you will ever have the joy of meeting if you meet them at all. Found only within one duchy of the Regalian Archipelago, these peaceful cousins of the Ithanians are ones deeply invested in the land. It is little wonder then that they are masters of wine and cheese, rearing bountiful hordes from grapes from the vine and making sure that the diet of their animals is just so in order to help them produce their dairy.

The Burdigala are also heavily invested with the pageantry of jousting, but unlike their Ithanian sisters, theirs is not a matriarchy and so the lists are fought for the right to honor and seek the affections of women, rather than for their pleasure or to subtly seek the attention of other men. The Burdigala are also a fashion-heavy culture, their lands positioned near the crossroads to many trade routes, and thanks to their luxury trade goods, they easily gain luxury clothing supplies back, from furs to finely patterned bolts of fabric.

So indeed, go and seek them out to waste their wine and dine on cheese in a peaceful, loving land of merriness.

This is the first article of a cultural series penned by Henric of Heeresveen, a famed cultural researcher. Stay tuned for glimpses of other cultures, only with the Rose Record!

Developing Stories​

We have all of the medals awarded at the Military Awards but will be waiting for the absentee awards to be given before publishing. If this isn't available by Sunday, we'll publish all of the ones awarded at the Ceremony instead.

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Edit made within five minutes to include Alberic Typhonus's rank as Oberst in the Crimson Inquisition.

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BEAUTY IN THE FACE OF DREAD: YATES-VARLEY'S ODE TO REGALIA'S PRIDE
11 November
Note penned by Milena du Brierüst. Foreword, ode, and closing penned by Benedict Yates-Varley.
This would be sent in addition to the issue, with no further cost to it.​

The amount of passion felt by our soldiers who so bravely served was echoed in an ode by Mister Benedict Yates-Varley, the head of the Regalian Troubadour Society. The editors were only made aware of this work last night, but we hope you enjoy it as thoroughly as we do. This work has not been changed in any way, shape, nor form, and is sourced from this document as per his request. (OOC note: it's a little more work but please rate the original post, linked above, instead of this one! @Mooffins deserves all the credit for this fantastic piece of writing!)

November 9th, 307 A.C. - Before the Battle of Merkars'arh
As I write this notation, we press on towards battle, which seems to be creeping closer with every momentous second. It beats in the hearts of every man and woman who is on this march, in these camps, and going to be in this battle. I've made various notes about not only my feelings going into this oncoming melee, but the environment around me, and the soldiers accompanying me. Inspiration has not struck yet for the lyrics of this Ode, but I imagine they will arrive during my trials on the chaos of battle. If I should perish, I have left the rhyming scheme, initial premonitions, and notes, for a well to-do author to pick up for me.

Benedict Y.V.​

LYRICS
[Ode to Pride is sung in a very methodical, slow tonation, like an anthem of sorts. The syllables of most words are stressed, and pronounced quite methodically.]
[Could be sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne if wished to be]

Walls close all 'round,
The thunder sounds,
The Battle of Righteous Yore,
For here on Moor,
Thought not before,
We face the stark hor'ror,
A grey stampede,
His charge sing'ing,
Down jag'ged mountainside,
Meets with thee,
Air thick, murk'y,
Till we see Behesal's eyes,

Cannon! The fire!,
Rains 'cross the mire!,
We come to blows now deaf!,
Steel tears asunder,
Both son, and father,
Ev'ry man faces off with death!

Upon this field, once bright,
Scales block, the sky,
Heroes are forged in flame!
Now gone, from sight,
We mourn, and cry,
Those who fought, and those who died!

For what did we fight?
Was it land, or might?
Perhaps some ancient slight?

It was nothing, so snide,
To the dead, we shan't lie,
Each man fought for his pride!
​

November 10th, 307 A.C. - The Morning After The Battle.
I have completed what I have called "Ode to Regalia's Pride". It was officially completed the night of the battle, immediately after we made our camp. What started as a poem, turned into a triumphant and realist take on my experiences within this battle. The horrors witnissed, the dead, cannot possibly be described to someone who was not there. However, I have done my best to capture the sense of phyrric success within these lines. I would hope that Ode gives pride to, not an esoteric nation or concept, but to the raw people of this Empire, who I was proud to serve next to in that bloody Moor. This is the victory of their determination, who I was honoured to share with, and may Ode also be a reminder to those we lost yestereve, and immortalize how brave they faced when up against utter Hell Incarnate. I've dedicated this Ode to them, and all of these united Peoples.

Benedict Y.V.
​

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