Ironsides Family/Armstrong/''Siege of Oligarch and the Fane War''
Siege of Oligarch and the Fane War
Eve of Siege
Roleplay from Armstrong Ironsides
Message sent to everyone in the region Oligarch (33 recipients)
Armstrong watched the banners bounce up and down as wave after wave of troops marched upon Oligarch. "That's it?" he said leaning over the wall to see if there was more. "Surely the north can bring more than that? I don't even see Erik the Terrible. I was looking forward to watching him be impaled."
He turned toward the inner part of the Castle to address the garrison. They stood shoulder to shoulder, armoured, armed, some were eager, others were nervous.
"Faneians, the gods have seen to it that we are responsible for reminding the nobility of the East Continent what courage and valour look like. For too long these words have been trampled on by diplomacy, by tangled alliances, by flimsy spines. Today we prove otherwise! Our neighbours might bend to the will of the strong, but we say 'No!' We draw our swords and we fight off they who believe they own us. Faneians do not kneel. We fight! That should be the call of all true nobles who face an enemy. Do not surrender. Do not hide oneself in the comfort of your regions, your treaties, your wealth and opulence. Remain standing, hold the line! Let them try to take what is yours and when they do strike back! Strike back and sever their greedy filthy hands! This is our Castle, this is our heart and soul, let them die upon it! Let them gather their armies and bleed for it. Fane is ours, Oligarch is ours, all glory is ours!"
A hearty cheer went up that echoed over the wall and into the crowd of enemies.
The Faneians were ready for the north to try and step on them.
After the Great Siege
Roleplay from Armstrong Ironsides
Message sent to everyone in the region Oligarch (11 recipients)
Fane was in ruins. The once mighty city of Oligarch burned and its people scrambled to escape. Vantage from a high tower on the city walls one could see lines of refugees snake in all four directions of the compass. The invading force took up residence anywhere they found suitable. Minor nobles were killed or thrown outside and their manors occupied. Peasants were either enslaved or massacred, and any who could escape did so by any means necessary.
Armstrong, disgraced and defeated, stood watching the calamity before him. He had few memories that could compare to this, memories of Krimml after Duke Alexi stole the city. Many sieges Armstrong participated against his enemies, some were won, others lost, but none caused such a wound as this one. For this was not just another siege, this was the conquest of his own glory, his home, his achievement. Fane was the summit of his entire life. Wretched is the man who lives after devastation.
"What have I done to deserve life?" He asked his gods. "I've done everything required of me according to your will. I marched on countless battlefields, slain uncountable lives, I serve as your weapon - so why haven't you given me glorious death? Why must I go on? Haven't I served enough?..."
He leaned against the cracked and crumbled wall mount.
"In life, I earned title and land and wealth, but none of that matters. None of that counts. Give me what I want, give me what I've earned! Was I not your favourite? Was I not the one who did all that you beckoned? There is nothing more. There is nothing left...so why do I live on?"
He reached out his hands and took account of the toll his faith took. The loss of many fingers was testament to his unflinching unapologetic fervour for combat.
"Is there more you want from me? I am too old to march with the armies, who more must I kill? What more enemies must I challenge? Please, retire me while I can still wear armour and wield a weapon. I do not want to age to dust..."
This was the result of a lifetime of heroism. Was the reward worth the effort?
What reward?
