[IC] Colliding Worlds: Europe 1200 AD

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NPC TURNS

Kingdom of France [+]

MILITARY

DIPLOMACY

Kingdom of England [+]

MILITARY

DIPLOMACY

Holy Roman Empire [+]

MILITARY

- Emperor Otto IV assembles his forces on the borders of Poland, in preparation for an expected Isarimer offensive.

Army Status Card

Emperor Otto IV’s Army of the Reich [+]

DIPLOMACY

Byzantium Empire [+]

MILITARY

- Invades and claims Bulgaria.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Ayyubid Dyanasty [+]

MILITARY

- Invades and claims Saudi Arabia.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Kievan Rus [+]

MILITARY

- No Actions.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

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POLAND GERMANY BORDER

Phoenix Crescent Warband [+]

“Warlord…”

A deep, rasped, obviously battle weary voice boomed.

“Their forces are assembling…”

An Isarimer berserker with no clear name, an individual only distinguished by the row of hanging human skulls loosely tied to his ramshackle steel belt, approached the Warlord of the Phoenix Crescent Warband. AhkDrkl himself was silent, he had been for hours now, watching the sky with an insatiable bloodlust in his eyes from their vantage point on the slope in the forest, looking over the border into this so called ‘Germany’, a land filled with pathetic humans who hoped to resist the Isarimer warbands with futile attempts of this fickle virtue that they called bravery.

The Isarimer called it UkhDreth. Their word for ‘Last Life’.

“These creatures, tiny, hiding behind suits of armour and mechanical bows. They did not learn from the first slaughter. Their lines, their organised blocks and ranks…” AhkDrkl finally spoke, breaking the deathly still of the late evening air, illuminated only by a dusty grey light that hopelessly tried to force it’s way through a thick covering of cloud.
“Meat. Prey. Their leader… their leader’s head is mine. I haven’t eaten a head in hours…”

The crescent berserker, although enjoying the imagery immensely, stopped the Warlord with a fierce grunt, forcefully bringing him back to the conscious world, away from his fantasies of consuming the world around him.

“The men are hungry for their eyes, they wish to feast on their blood tonight, Warlord. It has been too long since we had a good feast!”

“Too long,” The Warlord agreed, emptily. “Did those fucking Lesser Breed scouts come back with anything we can use, or it it going to be another blind slaughter?”

“They found their way back to the forests just hours ago, Warlord. Pathetic as they may be, they are more than any Human could be,” The Berserker slammed his Battle-Axe’s eight-foot haft into the ground, leaning on the broad, jagged blade, ready to divulge the information about the army who had assembled to attempt to neutralise the warband. “They are led by some half-wretch bitch named Emperor Otto IV, a pathetic, tiny creature with a brittle spine. He leads a host of twelve thousand so-called warriors. Two thousand mounted, two thousand firing with their mechanised bows, five thousand with little pikes about the thickness of a twig. Twelve-thousand and one bags of flesh for the taking,”

From their view from the forest slope, they could make out the battle formations of the opposing army forming into neat little squares which would make killing them all the easier. Any strike from somewhere other than the front would spell disaster for their carefully thought-up strategies.

AhkDrkl let a smile cross his mouth beneath his demon hounskull helmet, and he approach the ridge that served as his platform of command in the forest. He screamed as loud as his unholy voice would allow, reverberating across miles of forest, and into the valley below. He hoped, more than anything, that this Otto IV could hear him.

“Otto!”

Silence…

“I WILL EAT YOUR EYES FIRST!”

A roar erupted from his Isarimer who were hiding in the forest all around, creating a deafening and terrifying cacophony of bloodthirsty screams that were unlike anything this world would have heard before.

“Show them what it means to be afraid!”

Tactics
The Isarimer warband is striking without warning in an attempt to catch Otto IV off guard. 1000 Lesser Breed warriors will attempt to draw the body of the army close to the forest, allowing the Berserkers to perform a scissor flank from the cover of the forest, surrounding the enemy from all sides.
The Javelin throwers will engage the crossbowmen as priority target with the remaining 1000 lesser breed as meat shields to get close enough. After the crossbows have been dealt with they will double back and assault the spearmen from behind, throwing their ranks into dissaray.
The Isarimer will make use of the fact they they are naturally fast, able to make the same running pace as human mounted infantry. They will also use their size as both an intimidation factor and as an invaluable tool in being able to vault the line of much smaller human spearmen.

LITHUANIA

Bloodstalker Warband [+]

This land... Lithuania, as the Humans called it. Full of humans ripe for consuming. Weak, not part of a larger empire. More land for the great hunting ground, indeed. Warlord KhruklRethua had been set upon the territory by LesaLikl himself, demanding more blood, more sacrifices, more flesh for the great Isarimer people. So he set out, charging across the land with his bloodthirsty warband, supported by a handful of the Lesser Breeds and across the imaginary border set out by the human populace in search of carnage and bloodshed, pillage and destruction. Warlord KhruklRethua would begin his grand slaughter of these humans without warning, to make what they called theirs, his...

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by caliban22

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Franco-Belgian boarder

[+]

The newly appointed Lady general Kain stands in front of her Assembled commanders as they stand around a strategy of the Franco-humlon border table " We have been Ordered by the Lord Emperor to prepare in case of negotiation talks with the french fail to defend our borders.." she says "as of now we are to be supported by militia. In case of war they will be called up to hold key cities and town castles along the roads.

Ayyubid-Humlon Border

[+]

The 2nd siege army prepares its self

The Capital of Antwerp

[+]

In the capital Emperor Hastin has sent out non-aggression pact offers to both of his neighboring nations. Silently he waits out in his palace garden, as he examined the beauty this world had to offer they is reminded of how grateful he is to be standing here, and regretful of the price of that. "Lord Emperor." A voice says off to his left, it was his most loyal friend and most trusted member of the council of advisors Talo'shi. "what is it my friend? any news on the treaties?" he asks hopeful of the opportunity to avoid a war. Considering the size of his nations he had very few forts with mostly plains and forests to protect him he could not unitize his military to the best of its ability. For a while now he has prepared plans for a line of forts and castles on both the Franco and Ayyubid borders, The first of the forts are being built of the French border under the watchful eye of the 1st army. In the east the Iron warriors stand guard and build wooden and dirt forts at key towns and cities "no my lord I have heard nothing on the pacts..I have come to Inform you the 3rd army has mobilized, and await your orders" as a moments "have them ready at a moments notice should it come to war we send them out to support our militia garrisons

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Christendom Under Siege

Pope Honorius III swayed in his chair, heavy not just with age, but also pain. “What news of Poland?”

Hans Greitel, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Empire, bowed his head. ““Mieska III the Old perished along with the last fighting force in Poland, as he held the walls of Warsaw against the demonic tide.”

Honorius III’s wrinkled face creased in anguish, “what of his people?”

Jacque Monrowe, the Cardinal of France made the cross on his chest. “Your Holy ears should not bear the descriptions of our enemy’s twisted spoils, most Holy Father.”

“If God has seen fit for me to walk into the bounds of Hell, then so be it. Come, tell me,” demanded Honorius III impatiently. Spittle had started to run visibly down one side of his mouth.

“Reports tell of mass death, and of rape. Women and children are not spared from our foe, it seems. If what Cardinal Greitel’s countrymen say is true – the hulks of Poland feast on the flesh of mankind,” Jaques paused to form another cross, “those who would resist are shown a fate worse than death.”

The Pope was visibly shaking at this point, but as John Fletcher, Cardinal of England, attempted to adjourn the meeting, the old man stood from his chair. Aloud he cursed, arms thrusted up towards Heaven, and soon practiced Latin poured from his cracked lips in tirades of heresy.

“Why have you abandoned us, Oh Lord?” he screamed; eyes welling in dismay.

Cardinal Greitel stepped over to the Pope, and embraced him as a father would a frightened child. “Fear not, Holy Father, all is not lost, and if these truly are the End Times, then Our Lord will be watching us with eager eyes – to see the extent of our resolve. Despair not, Holy Father, for these demons can be killed – as we saw in Rome-“

“Rome is lost!” Hissed the Pope, breaking the embrace with clawed fingers. “Don’t you see? Swords are of no match for that which cannot be killed. Satan has sent forth his legions, the Kingdom will fall.”

“My Earthly sovereign, Emperior Otto IV, is assembling his army as we speak. He intends to rid Poland of the demons, and to save its people. Have faith, Holy Father, for we all need you now more than ever,” begged Cardinal Greitel, kneeling on one knee.

“What of the horde of giants that have laid waste to half of Spain? What of those flat-faced demons dwelling in the marshes of Flanders, and of Burgundy? So much loss. The war comes to Man on many fronts, it would seem,” said the Pope, irremovably lost in the depths of depression.

The French Cardinal raised his hand. The Pope turned an ear to him. “My sire, the King of France, is mustering to assist the Spaniards. Even now, he calls the entirety of his army to rally at Paris. From there, he will march on Spain to repel Hell’s legions. Then he will turn northward, to liberate Normandy, Burgundy and Fl-“
“The English defeated the evil ranks in Normandy, before the walls of Caen! How now have we lost it? Has a second coming made good of the English army, as they did of us in Rome?” Interrupted the Pope, shouting in an untenable rage.

“We didn’t lose it, Holy Father, or rather we did,” said Cardinal Fletcher. “But not through force of arms. It simply ceases to exist.”

“What?” came the collective response of the Cardinal Council.

John nodded. “I heard word yesterday from a group of my countrymen fleeing the north. Apparently, all roads leading to Normandy turn on themselves. The nearer you draw to the coast, the further away it stretches. It is… most strange.”

“Strange? Is that your best word for it? Strange!?” The Pope was now a thing of lunacy.

“Though sweet melodies can be heard bouncing around the countryside, as if thousands had joined in communion to sing praise,” continued Cardinal Fletcher; unlike the Pope, the Englishman seemed to be rather fascinated by the situation than fearful of it.

“Praise to whom?” Asked Cardinal Monrowe, his face twisting in curiosity. “The Devil?”

“I am not sure. It was not of French, English or German tongue,” replied the English Cardinal. Stopping to consider his thoughts, he continued, “though I cannot confirm what the refugees have said as truth. They are probably mad with grief and terror, as many others are the world over. Allow me to take a retinue there, to investigate, and I will solve the mystery.”

The Pope waved a hand. “Granted,” he sobbed.

Visibly exhausted from his ordeals, the aging Patriarch of the Catholic Church left the Cardinal Council. His guards followed after him, as did his physicians.

“He is a madman,” said Cardinal Monrow. “We’d be best served to have him stand down.”

“Watch your heresy,” hissed Cardinal Greitel.

The High Elves of Nillanor

High King Falrir Maelstrom circled the naked humans. They had been brought before him on his orders, and were divided into two lines of ten. One line were males, and he studied them curiously. Some were weak, wrought with age or disease. Others were strong, with broad shoulders and princely faces. All however were united in their universal fear, and they quivered under his gaze.

Falrir was above arousal, but he admitted to himself there was a slight tingle of excitement in him that he had not felt in an Age. The human females varied wildly in their qualities – and ugliness – much unlike those of his kin. High Elves looked almost identical, no matter their lineage, and though they were a beautiful people to look upon, Falrir tired of bedding the same perfect forms of High Elf maidens. He had been doing so for twenty thousand years, after all.

One of the women shrieked and recoiled as he brushed his fingers across her hair. “Do you fear me?” He asked in response; his face a stone slab of emotion. The woman was too terror-struck to reply. His quick mastery of Italian, French and German in the brief weeks he had been on Earth had obviously startled the poor thing.

“You needn’t,” he said. His eyes bore into the woman, almost menacingly, though in truth there was no malice. The murder of his son had already been avenged, and he wished for no more bloodshed. “We are very much alike, and this fear and violence are an abomination.”

Turning, Falrir clasped his hands behind his back and walked back to his throne. He was a being of beauty; immaculate white robes draped his body, his flesh was smooth and glowing and his ivory hair ran down his back in a straightened throw.

He looked skywards, towards the magnificent arched ceiling of St. Peter’’s Catherdral. It was a poor feat when compared to the master works for the High Elves, but it was nonetheless noteworthy of human potential. In Rome, as the natives called it, Falrir could sense great magical potential streaming from the ground beneath him. It was of little wonder then, that the humans had chosen to sit their spiritual patriarch here.

“Send them back to the city,” he commanded, turning as he approached his throne. “Send them with whatever they hold of worth in this world.” Looking at the humans, he said ‘Let it be known that we are not occupiers, but your friends.’

As the humans were led out by a dozen or so High Elven pikemen, the High King was approached from the flank by his chief advisor and son: Prince Therandir.

“Any word from the other refugees, my son?” asked Falrir, not bothering to turn his head.

“None sire. The Halflings and our Lesser Kin have not made it through,” replied Therandir, looking sad despite the stony expression.

“How?”

“The portals were interrupted on Gorika; a great chasm opened beneath Tarnia I believe, disrupting the works of our Arch Mages and their assistants. They may yet make it through, or they may have been lost forever.”

“It was a risk we had to take. Ironic how the Gods would choose to save the Isarimer and the Lorenvolk, but send the kinder races to their doom. Perhaps this is a message meant for us.”

“And what message could that possibly be father?”

“Our time is coming to an end. We, the High Elves, whom have long fought for peace and prosperity on Gorika, are a dying race. The Gods may well be underlining this point, withdrawing our friends to the shadow, so that we stand alone against our Doom.”

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NPC TURNS

Kingdom of France [+]

MILITARY

DIPLOMACY

Kingdom of England [+]

MILITARY

- Army assembling on the southern coastline.

DIPLOMACY

Holy Roman Empire [+]

MILITARY

- Gathering strength near Hamburg.

Army Status Card

Emperor Otto IV’s Army of the Reich [+]

DIPLOMACY

[list[/list]

Byzantium Empire [+]

MILITARY

- No Actions

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Ayyubid Dyanasty [+]

MILITARY

- No Actions

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Kievan Rus [+]

MILITARY

- No Actions.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

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Vel Nardocs Army [+]

Elis Sara Legions [+]

Vel Lisk Legion [+]

Vel Lisk Militia [+]

Northern Spain, Empire of Vyrndar, Outside Toledo.

It was an unfortunate fact that the buildings of humanity were poorly suited to hold the new masters of the land. Few human buildings could house the Lorenvolk at all and every fewer were able to do so comfortably. It was to this end that outside of the city humans labored, overseen by beings who towered above them to construct what would in time be a place built to the scale of the Lorenvolk themselves. While the work was mostly uneventful from time to time a human would be signaled out, perhaps for not working hard enough and then the whips would fall.

It was true that the Lorenvolk had not been proponents of such practices as slavery in the eons of their long existence upon Gorika, regardless of the foolish beliefs held by the high elves and others, however with the situation as dire as it currently was the humans had been rapidly enlisted in the process of construction, a process that was being mirrored throughout the area of land that they now controlled. But while the Lorenvolk friendly area was slowly taking shape through the labor of humans and the command of their new masters there was another sight that dominated the horizon outside of the city.

Ancient pillars of crystal that had never been seen upon this world before now rose from the ground outside the city. Crystals arranged in a pattern that could almost be believed to be a staircase, a series that steadily increased in height before reaching a peak and ceasing high in the sky. For when the portals had brought through the Lorenvolk the Crystal stair had been swallowed up as well, perhaps by the will of she who they believed had crafted the portals that allowed them to flee. And at the foot of the Crystal stair knelt a being clad in armor that gleamed like gold but was yet different, armor that echoed the form of one who the humans of the Northern Spain were rapidly becoming familiar with.

The High King of Vyrndar, the being who claimed to be the son of Maev'Sil'Vien, knelt alone before the holy relic of his goddess. His whispered words were unintelligible but many would take his mannerisms as an indication that the man was praying. His guards kept to respectable distance, standing back from the sacred conduit by which their goddess had descended in ages past but still close enough to ensure that nothing should happen to their lord.

Just behind the guards stood others of power among the Lorenvolk who had made it through the portals, members of the high priesthood in their white and gold ornate garb, Elis'Sara daughter of Vel'Nardoc himself clad in the royal fabric spun by the great spiders of their old land, and the generals of old Vyrndar. The whispered prayers to their goddess continued for many long moments before at last Vel'Nardoc rose from his position at the foot of the stair and beckoned for the others to draw near to him. At his gesture they approached.

As they drew close all, even Elis'Sara and the high priest of Maev'Sil'Vien bowed low before their King. Though it seemed he was little mood for such formalities. "Rise for there is much that we must do." His voice commanded and they obeyed.

"Has she spoken to you my King? Has the long silence ended?" The high priest asked with clear hope written upon his face. But his answer was only a silent shake of the head. "Our Mother saved us from the fall of the old world and delivered us to this new one. But she has not spoken." The Priest then continued. "Perhaps she is not pleased with the lack of a truly worthy place of worship?"

"Perhaps." Was Vel'Nardoc's reply as he turned his gaze from the priest to his daughter. "Elis'Sara you will take Lir'Venk and his legions south. But you will not pass beyond the lands we have claimed. Enlist our newest subjects and build defenses along the border.The shock of these independent human nations will not last long and even these tiny ones can be a threat if they unite."

"Yes Father." Came the reply as Elis'Sara bowed her head to his commands, the gold of her hair much like her father's before the white had begun to creep in. "I will make sure we are unassailable from the south."

"I do as you wish my king." Lir'Venk spoke as well, the smaller than average Lorenvolk standing only 13 feet as one of the shortest of the gathering.

"Vel'Lisk we must test the mettle of these humans that you have insisted make suitable soldiers. You and a single legion shall march west with your human recruits. Conquer this 'Portugal' in the name of her holy light and prove your humans true warriors." The High King's gaze had swept onward again to fall on Vel'Lisk, the aging man had long been one of Ve'Nardoc's favored generals and it was for this reason that his belief that humans could serve as soldiers alongside Lorenvolk was being tested.

"It is my honor to be provided this opportunity my king." Came the reply before silence fell once more.

"A new city, greater than Vol'Kariz itself shall rise. A new empire shall be born upon this world. We shall not falter, we shall not fail, we shall never fall. For such is her promise. We are the children of Maev'Sil'Vien and we are born to rule. I shall go north for it is said that the humans there gather against us."

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Franco-Belgian boarder

1st army [+]

the Iron Warrios [+]

1st Conscripts [+]

Ayyubid-Humlon Border

boarder guards [+]

Antwerp

the Emperor's own [+]

Antwerp

In the Capital city Emperor Hastin enraged at the news that the french killed his emissary "Those..." he yells "I offer them a peaceful resolve! I never did one thing against the French! yet they have the audacity to act this way towards me! towards my people!" he yells "I care not for their dislike for me but to treat my emissary that way!" he says as Grand general of all armies on the french border. Ulik'la susa "My lord!" he says saluting "what is our state of mobilization ? " he says as a table is brought in with chairs. As the general stands at attention Emperor Hastin sits at the table "please general.." he says as he offers him a seat "well my lord...we have one army ready for action, it will take at least another season till the mobilize the militia armies, we have a small garrison on the Ayyubid-Humlon Border already in place, but our larger force on our french border is mobilizing and the 2nd army is moving push the attack." he says "very good general...I will keep my troops here in reserve....This war was not started by us, and we will not be seen as the aggressors

Franco-Belgian boarder
Lady general Kain Rereads her orders for the 12th time "as of now you may consider yourselves for a heightened state for war, you are to hold the line in case of attack, .No offensive actions are allowed, should the enemy engage our troops you may consider us in a full state of war, if this should come to pass you are allowed to pass judgement in the field under the conditions it does not interfere with the Grand generals plans"

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ARMY CARDS

Phoenix Crescent Warband [+]

Bloodstalker Warband [+]

Bloodsong Warband [+]

Hellwalker Warhorde [+]

GERMANY POLAND BORDER

After an hour or two of bloody battle, the day had not been won, but blood had been spilled. KhruklRethua had not expected the tiny humans to put up such resistance, or to stand so firm against an isarimer charge. Respect had to be given where it was due, but he owed Emperor Otto a debt: his eyes were his prize. When their foe had began to retreat, they too withdrew to the border forest, where they could once again watch with hungering eyes the movements of their foes. They would retreat to one of their cities, their walled encampments that served only to trap them from within.
The Phoenix Crescent had taken losses, the enemy had taken heavier losses, but the weeks that followed saw smaller, wandering war bands join the ranks of the Crescent to re-bolster the warpack to what it had been previously, though KhruklRethua assumed that his adversary would do the same.

The battle itself had been bloody. The Isarimer killed three times their number despite being heavily outnumbered. The Berserkers broke the line with fierce abandon even when the Humans had held fast, and they died in swathes against Isarimer steel. Broken bones and the screams of men filled the valley as the Isarimer did what they did best. Though it was more of a skirmish than a full fledged battle, KhruklRethua was proud. His newly formed Warband had performed admirably. If admiration was something he was capable of feeling.

For now, he held his men. He knew now what the enemy was capable of, and that made him even more determined to be destroyed. Their retreat to Hamburg was… Interesting.

KhruklRethua was broken from his deep contemplation, and stood himself to address a berserker who was reporting to him. Not on the movements of their enemies, but of their own.

“Warlord,” the Berserker grumbled. “There are several things you must know,”

“Speak,” KhruklRethua demanded.

“Hamburg’s days are numbered. As are those of the Emperor. The squealing pig is trapped between us and and the land of ‘Czech’.”

“Explain yourself,” KhruklRethua demanded again.

“The Beast of the Shadow, LesaLikl, approaches. Word of the hunt has reached far back into the Hunting Grounds and he brings forth his Hellwalker Warhorde. They move through the territories below and intend to strike the Emperor from his side when he least expects it. The scissor attack will decimate his force entirely. We may be able to strike at the last moment and claim the Emperor’s head for our own. The Hellwalkers come with thirty Firehounds, they will be capable of forcing the Emperor from his hole.”

KALININGRAD OBLAST

UkhEklo’s Bloodsong Warband thundered North, through the Isarimer Hunting grounds and into the mysteriously sparse land between Poland and Lithuania, with one intent, and one only. To kill. The glory of conquest would belong to his warband. With the news of Lithuania being so easily subdued by the Bloodstalker warband that spring, a revolution had broken out within the Isarimer people. A sense of purpose had overcome them, and an insatiable hunger for conquest that was almost as strong as their desire for bloodshed had emerged. The smaller warbands took small patches land for themselves within the Hunting Grounds, but the Warlords in command of larger forces had their eyes set upon larger game. In this case, UkhEklo wanted to expand their grounds further.

There was always going to be human resistance, but his berserkers were ready. By their hundreds, they would rape and pillage, they would murder and maim, they would set fire to the cities and villages and claim the country for their own.

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Behold The Angels

Miseyala was waiting for the human to arrive. The illusions that had been hastily created were crude but effective, having kept trespassers away for the months her people had needed. It was strange to be in a place like this, a castle that was so crude. She could make the ugly stones gleam with starlight and reflect the world like polished glass but there was no reason too and it was wasteful.

Miseyala was eager to speak to this human. She had learned many things about the human religions since she had led her people through the portals. The thought of the misty valleys of home filled her with nostalgia for a moment. But she put the thoughts of home aside. The human religion had been easy to understand and easy to manipulate. The humans had welcomed her people with praises and worship instead of swords and hatred. She was not her mother or her father, she was new to ruling, but she would do her best to guide her people in this new world. To do that they would need to change.

Here it was not enough to be a myth. On this world they needed to be divine. Miseyala had become certain that this was the only path to survival. She heard an upsurge in the music of her people from beyond the audience chamber. The human from the high ranks of the human faith was about to arrive. She readied her magic and took a deep breath.

When the human cardinal entered he would see the rest of the room fade away before a radiant figure. Miseyala stood and her body shone like the stars. Every word she spoke was musical, and her motions were captivating. "Faithful one. Though the world has been plunged into the darkness there is still light. As demons rise so do angels descend. You have not been abandoned."

(Miseyala receives the human cardinal personally)

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NPC TURNS

Kingdom of France [+]

MILITARY

French Royal Army [+]

DIPLOMACY

- Angered by England’s willingness to accept the questionable credibility of the Normandy strangeness.

Kingdom of England [+]

MILITARY

DIPLOMACY

- King John of England has openly declared Normandy a ‘sacred realm of Our Lord’ and vows not to send troops to reclaim the former English territory.

Holy Roman Empire [+]

MILITARY

- Recalling all forces to Germany.

The Defenders of Germany
Army Status Card

Emperor Otto IV’s Army of the Reich [+]

Emperor Otto IV’s Imperial Levy [+]

DIPLOMACY

[list[/list]

Byzantium Empire [+]

MILITARY

- Seized Albania and Macedonia but with heavy losses.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Ayyubid Dyanasty [+]

MILITARY

- Invades and claims Libya.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

Kievan Rus [+]

MILITARY

- No Actions.

DIPLOMACY

- No Actions

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ᛏᚨᚲᛖ ᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᚨᚱ ᛒᛖᛃᛟᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞᛋ

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---
ARMY CARDS

Phoenix Crescent Warband [+]

Bloodstalker Warband [+]

Bloodsong Warband [+]

Hellwalker Warhorde [+]

---
CZECH LANDS AND HAMBURG

Three Lesser Breeds stood in the shadow of a titan. They stood, trembling, obviously having drawn some form of short straw to find themselves in this position. They kept exchanging worried glances, and even the Lesser Breeds were monsters by human comparison. The thing they stood before was like a mountain given form, a shape that radiated a feeling of fear and remorse. It was adorned with a hundred skulls and a string of Human hands around it’s neck, alongside many more exotic and otherworldly trophies to signify conquests long passed. It towered over even the tallest Isarimer, dwarfing the proudest Lorenvolk; and it started, frightfully, into the very soul of the three Lessers sent to address it.

“Warmaster LesaLikl…” One started, before the next took over.
“The Human forced retreated-“

“Silence”

The three lesser Breeds immediately killed their address at the slightest earthy rumble of LesaLikl’s voice.

“Mention them once more… And i’ll remove your skulls for my collection. The Human cowards are of no concern to us. Let them run to their city. They are too afraid to fight us, so we will return for their skulls once the hunt has concluded. We continue North. This ‘Emperor’ in ‘Hamburg’ falls. Emperors make for the best feasts. We assault his encampment in four days time.”

“Yes Warmaster” all three replied at once, wasting no time to do so.

“Do not address me again. Or you will all die”

LesaLikl stood, apparently to dream of bloodshed where his Warlords would not disturb him with endless pitiful attempts at favour.

KALININGRAD OBLAST

The Human Militiamen had not even stood to fight. One sight of the fierce Isarimer and their courage had faltered, they turned and ran like startled sheep, leaving their duty to defend their country behind, along with their dignity and honour.
UkhEklo had been pleased, yet also strangely disappointed with the performance of his first true human adversaries. He had hoped for more from them, but expected no less. His impressions were not helped in the slightest by the lingering cowardice that his foes displayed: hiding behind their entrenchments, feeling safe behind their so called ‘defences’, words a true warrior needed not to fill his head.

The weather complimented the grim and painfully bleak outlook for the Human resistance. UkhEklo stood against the rain and wind, both splattering off his grotesquely muscular frame with a series of incessant pitters and patters, his blood-caked hair blowing slightly in the chilled autumn breeze. Isarimer surrounded the Human Militia in their garrison from every side, although being at a very slight disadvantage in numbers, they had the overall advantage, walls or no.

“You Humans!” He cried, addressing the Garrison from the ranks of barbaric warriors encircling it. “You piss yourselves at the thought of battle! Is that how you want you bitches to remember you? How you want your offspring to recount your tales?”
He spat to the ground, throwing his blade into the churned mud alongside.
“You only have two choices!” he bellowed. “Quit cowering in your boots and face your deaths like men, and you will die fast! Or…”

He gave a moment of silence for the finality of the ultimatum to sink in amongst his prey who were inevitably listening in. “Or you can continue to cower like animals; you will die last. Your women will be raped, your children will be eaten. You will watch, we will peel your eyelids from your putrid faces and we will devour your hearts!”

“YOUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT, YOUR LAND BELONGS TO THE ISARIMER. DIE WITH DIGNITY OR DIE IN THE DIRT, IT MATTERS NOT TO US!”

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Franco-Belgian boarder

1st army [+]

the Iron Warrios [+]

1st Conscripts [+]

Ayyubid-Humlon Border

boarder guards [+]

Franco-Belgian boarder
Grand general Ulik'la susa orders have arrived "the first army is charged with Defensive actions" Lady general Kain was stunned this was her time to earn her army's name. The second had earned its name The iron warriors they are called, and the third army as the Emperors own, Her own army was created by newly created units so there was no name for them,they were just the 1st siege army. The fact even the Conscript armies have earned their names made up of men and women who are led by seasoned offcers and a core of veterans of the former human provinces.

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Germany Falls to the Flames of the East

After an immense battle, Christendom's mightiest Kingdom was cast down by the overwhelming might and horrifying battle prowess of the Eastern Demons. The death of Emperior Otto IV, and the demise of the strongest fighting force in Western Europe has sent shock waves through the world of mankind. The news has reached Constantinople, where the Eastern Roman Emperor is rumoured to be contemplating leading his legions north, to tackle the common enemy head on. It would be a brash move however, as it is feared the army of the Byzantine Empire is not yet ready to take on such a feat. Still, how can any monarch sit idly by as everything he or she knows and loves is threatened by the same fate as that which has taken their neighbours?

The remaining provinces of the Reich have been placed under the temporary stewardship of the War Council of Venice. It is said that this collection of esteemed generals has not been disheartened by the loss of its emperor, and even now it is drawing its strength into the northern reaches of Italy. Germany may be lost to the Demons of the East, but her legacy, her power and her people live on as defiant as ever.

France Seeks Humlon Diplomacy

Following France's failed attempt to drive the demons of the marshes from Flanders and Burgundy, King Philip II of France has sent forward a delegation of his court to discuss a ceasefire. With France's royal army broken, it is well known that the Kingdom is weak. However, levies are being raised all over the country, and the human Kingdom is unlikely to go down without a fight.

Philip has personally called on the Pope to announce a Crusade, with the aims of gathering the forces of Christendom into one mighty host. If the Pope concedes, which is likely, then the Gorikan invaders may find themselves staring down the lance of humanity's first unified response to their presence.

Portals Open Across Algeria

More portals linking Gorika to Earth have opened across the African realm of Algeria. Locals report more monstrosities, surging forth and laying waste to several towns and villages. Local resistance was short lived, and the Sultan has fled into exile.

This new emergence has no doubt caught the attention of Sultan Saladin of Eypgt. He has remained hauntingly quiet during the Colliding of Worlds, choosing to expand his power base gradually and with caution. With the enemy on his door step however, this may very well change.

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Vel Nardocs Legions [+]

Elis Saras Legions [+]

Vel Lisks Legion [+]

Vel Lisks 1st Militia Legion [+]

Portuguese Border

"They think we are beaten. They think that an early victory means they have won the war." The sound of a giant's shouts echoed through the chamber in which Vel'Lisk had gathered the officers of both his Lorenvolk legion, freshly swelled by the arrival of additional soldiers and the officers of the fledgeling militia legion that had performed so poorly in the last fight. The giant general stamped his foot against the floor for emphasis and it seemed that it shook as the floor shuddered beneath his weight. "But we are far from beaten."

It had been a disappointment when the humans had proven so ineffective, breaking and running before the battle had been truly joined. Vel'Lisk had hoped that they would prove to be true warriors perhaps kindred spirits to his own kind. But this was a hope that seemed to have been dashed on the fields of battle. Still even this seemingly inherent cowardice could be useful, and he planned to make use of it to the fullest extent. "We have been repulsed but much has been learned." The giant's gaze swept over the humans with barely veiled disdain for their behavior in the prior battle. "You performed shamefully. You bring shame upon your families and people, and upon yourselves."

"But there is a way to redeem yourselves. You can purge this failure from memory. Gather round all of you and I will tell you what we will do." And as the man's angry tirade closed and the planning began others gathered around in the cramped and crowded chamber to listen to his instructions. Vel'Lisk had long been one of the more gifted strategists of the Lorenvolk and his plan was likely to win success.

(Vel'Lisk will be invading once more with a specific battleplan. Knowing that the militia broke before the humans the last time he plans to exploit this. The militia has been instructed to flee in the midst of battle, drawing out the Portuguese army in persuit before rallying as the Lorenvolk strike the spread out forces of Portugal.)

Southern France

The skies were rent with the thunder of great wings and the shimmer of golden scales as the last children of Maev'Sil'Vien flew above the world. Four of them were rather small, young adults of their kind, barely a 100 feet in length, though nonetheless still impressive in that breathtaking way that dragons have. But one of them was far larger, an ancient who had first risen long ago to defend Vel'Nardoc when the Elven blades had struck him down, a great beast who bore countless scars upon his form and now carried upon his back the same being that he had once risen to defend. Mounted upon the greatest of the surviving mriswring dragons the grim majesty of Vel'Nardoc could not be denied and the sight of the dragons above was clearly a moral booster for the thousands of giants in full armor who marched below.

(Word has reached the High King of the failure of the French assault to the north. He plans to take advantage of this opportunity.)

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Stairway To Heaven

“Forgive me my King, but The Transcending will kill you,” said High Magnus Tranyen Highspire. “Even with myself, and the surviving Mages of our kin, harnessing that much magic could split this planet in two.”

“We have to try, nonetheless,” replied Falrir, swirling a goblet of human wine as he sat on his throne. “It will not be long before our enemies are upon us, and we are finally relieved of our divine duty.”

“Of course, High King, but there is hope for us, without the need to risk so much,” pleaded Tranyen, kneeling down and clutching his staff with trembling hands. “The Transcending will not work.”

“Tell me of this hope you speak of,” shot Falrir, growing quickly impatient with his old friend.

“The Humlon have landed not far north of here; they are a good people, who have bled beside us a hundred times. Together, we may be able to beat back the Lorenvolk and those other monsters.”

Falrir shook his head, and sighed. “The Humlon are strong warriors behind high walls, but I have little use for them in the field of battle. We are a depleted peoples, and the Humlon will only be able to bolster us so much. Out right war will be our end – I must ascend to The Thousand Heavens, and speak to the Seven Lords and the Seven Ladies.”

“Heresy sire, The Quiet One will surely see this in poor light, and cast you-“

“I am aware of the risks. Our all-powerful father has abandoned us, and our creators remain absent. I must know why, I have to try.”

With great pain obscuring his otherwise beautiful features, High Magnus Tranyen Highspire relented with a prolonged sigh. “Very well, my King, I will initiate The Gathering.”

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Sav Omoz

Southern Algeria/Libya Border

Ahm Omoz. [+]

As the Great Citadel of Vashundol Completely teleported to earth, and the Ozkavosh people start forming their Warband, Omoz Arkosh, The Fell King of Sav Omoz, Lucifash, gather his very own chosen to fought a war with the natives. while the other general is preparing for their own battle, "Ozh Icha Gluth Izh, i smell fear in the very heart of those pathetic people, " He said as he gaze though the horizon, facing the soon claimed land for the Seven Hell, "Send some scout to that land, i need to know what kind of weakling is facing my wrath," he said to the army commander. "Those soul shall be mine."

The army that consist of thousand of giant red horned muscular demon that wielding a giant scythe is far from enough to wreck upon an army of tiny human, but as the word come to the ear of the Arkosh, Lucifash tell his army to not underestimate their enemy, "Tear them! Break them! Consume them! Show no mercy to them!" he shout to the army of demon that he command, "Sa Nith Icha Gluth!" Lucifash Shouted with a loud voice, "Icha Gluth!" The army shouted, while preparing to burn the land that they will invade.

Southern Algeria/Morocco Border

Voth Arkosh. [+]

There he stand, a 14 feet tall Ozkavosh, with four horn growing from his head, flaming body, literary flaming, fire dance in his arm and back, and while the other have a single tail, this one is recognized from his six tail that make him a feared general among his ranks, Named Beelzetash, A warrior without failure, with his large battle axe, roughly 10 feet long and 6 feet wide, with a flaming edge, no demon in hell can survive after hit by this weapon.

"The King has ordered us to spread the fear, so be it, we shall strike the very heart of those fragile being with one swift strike, so then they will hope that they are never born, let us present their soul for our lord, Lucifash!" he shout out lout in front of the legion of Ozh to lit the flame in their soul, once again.

The scout has been dispatched to morocco to scale their fighting power.

Southern Algeria/Tunisia Border

Voth Domosh. [+]

"Our King is giving us a command, its our fate to obey it and our goal to finish it, let us all march and banish those filthy soul from this land!" Said a 15 feet Ozkavosh, named Leviosh, the light banisher, he is special, like other noble breed of Ozkavosh, his arm is very large, almost three time larger from the ordinary ozh, with those arm, he carry a true meaning of destruction, a 17 feet long flaming sword, the sword may look like a large slow slashing tool, but in the hand of Leviosh, the sword can be swing like it was a normal sword, so fast, even faster than the normal sword swing.

"Scout the land, i hate to not knowing how many soul that i can eat."

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ᛏᚨᚲᛖ ᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᚨᚱ ᛒᛖᛃᛟᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞᛋ

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ARMY CARDS

Phoenix Crescent Warband [+]

Bloodstalker Warband [+]

Bloodsong Warband [+]

Hellwalker Warhorde [+]

---
HAMBURG

The Isarimer crashed into the Hamburg defenders with the force of a thousand armies, and the bloodshed was unlike anything this world had yet seen. Isarimer steel lashed at the humans, eviscerating them beyond all recognition, severing them limb from limb and spilling every ounce of blood pulsing through their puny bodies. The Human Emperor had found the courage to assault the Crescent Phoenix under the pre tense of a preemptive strike, leaving both the city and heir flank vulnerable to attack.
This had cost them dearly.
They realised their folly too late, and the slaughter was glorious and terrifying. Few survived. Those who did fled into the forests like frightened animals as the remains of those they considered friends and brothers were feasted upon by the blight of Gorika. The Lesser breeds took losses, as was expected, and all three units of Berserkers took lighter, but noticeable causalities.

Among the bloodshed, a storm gathered. From the fierce savagery of the melee, something towered above the combatants: a raging beast whose anger put to shame the combined rage of the thousands fighting in his name. In his wake, Human bodies were split apart, flayed, skinned, slaughtered and annihilated. A storm of blood and flesh erupting in his wake. A pair of cursed blades spinning like a whirlwind spelled death for any human attackers to come into contact.

There was a pause in the combat for a moment as conjoining of warriors took place. A culmination of the ferocity of both sides, a face-off of the utmost importance. LesaLikl stopped his rage for a moment, as he was confronted by none other than his quarry: Emperor Otto IV, who took the opportunity to apparently make attempts at intimidating his foe.

“Creature!” he had shouted to his much larger adversary. “This world is no place for your demon spawn! We will send you back to Satan and his realm of fire!”
Otto drew his sword, making an example to his men who had found the time to take notice of his heroics.
“Bravery will win this day! We will show no mercy in the face of your tide, and we will show no mercy in delivering you back to your master! The forces of God, in his eternal name, will show you what Humans are capable of! We are the masters of our world, and no foe can break our faith!”
He began to charge at LesaLikl, who merely stood, listening to the empty words of this mewling rat.
“I will put you down and send you back to Hell, beast! I will be your bane!”

Emperor Otto got within attacking range, and attempted to draw his sword across the monster that faced him. Instead, LesaLikl slapped away the sword with which his foe intended to strike with as if it were nothing at all, and gripped his quarry by the neck, lifting him high into the air.

“..Wait! No!” He had cried. “I shall not be defeated! Not like this!” He began to scream and sob. “This is not our Lord’s plan! He will not be defied!”

“I…” The Isarimer spoke. “Will tear out your God’s eyes. Fuck the Sunrise.”

LesaLikl grabbed Otto by both arms, and with minuscule effort, ripped both of them from his body with an utterly sickening crunch, wrenching the bones from their sockets and decimating the muscles that held them in place. He kneeled down to the man that had dropped to the mud, screaming in incomprehensible pain, writhing in his own blood that poured from his body. His words were beyond incomprehensible.

“If you see your God, tell him that all his followers will die,”

With that, he plunged his hand down, directly into the chest of his foe, ripping free Otto’s heart from his chest. LesaLikl raised it to their air with a mighty battle cry as it still tried to pump the blood of the man who had crossed the Isarimer commander, serving as an inspiration to the Berserkers fighting in his name.
Otto’s eyes waned and drooped. They glazed and started into the distance, but the man lived. Not for long, but he held on to the very little life he had left. Maybe he saw something in the light at the end? Maybe he saw that his life was folly, that his actions were made in vain? LesaLikl did not care. Just another Human. Just another bag of meat for the feast.

He raised the cursed blade Sunfall, and brought it down into Otto’s body with such force that the flesh was pulverised. Whatever life remained within the man was extinguished as his body was cleaved directly in two with one last, fell strike from the lord of the Isarimer…

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Franco-Belgian boarder

salt of the earth [+]

the Iron Warrios [+]

1st Conscripts [+]

Ayyubid-Humlon Border

boarder guards [+]

Franco-Belgian boarder
After the battle The 1st army has earned its name "Salt of the earth" Lady Kain ragged and tired looks over the wounded "costly very costly"

The Capital city
"my lord The French fools have sent us a Peace proposal!" says one of the Emperors guards escorting a french emissary Looking over the the treaty the Emperor says "we go to you...as friends and offer you peace, you kill our emissary, A valued member of our nation, a father...now as your army lies in ruins you dare come to us for peace! whats stopping me from killing you and your entire nation!" He yells his voices echos in the halls watching the french man shake "We will agree to your peace" he says crumpling up the treaty "but on our terms, we demand the land between us and the Mayelin Sanctuary, along with that a demilitarized zone along our fronts." he says "thats fair no? I pray for your peoples your leaders will consider it" he says as the frenchman is escorted out

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Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn, the Flame of the East

Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn ordered the retreat, even as he watched his squadrons wheel around the flaming monsters to launch another attack.

"My lord? We must win here, God wills it!" said one of his many adivsors; a young man, full of vigor and not in the slightest bit disheartened by the demons they were faced with.

Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn smiled, shaking his head, "a foolish man, who allows his enemy to see his true resolve; a pitiful King, who would needlessly send his soldiers to the slaughter."

Bemused, the young advisor drew his scimitar and called for his horse, 'God wills it! I will lead the next charge, we can break them! Look how many we have slain!"

"You will not," snapped the Sultan. His sun beaten face creasing in slight anguish as a great sphere of fire crashed into the front ranks of his assembled spear infantry. Dozens of men screamed like strangled animals as they rolled in the sand; fighting flames that would not extinguish. "Come. Sound the horns once more, and then we leave. Send the Sinners against them as a rear guard, let it be known that those who do their duty and survive, will be forever lifted of their sullied title."

The Sultan of the Ayyubid Dynasty has ceded control of Libya to the invading army of flame demons that have spread across the North African Continent in a bloody storm. However, it is well known that of all the human Kingdoms, Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn's is currently the strongest. There is little telling how many brave Muslims he can call to his banner at the stamping of his feet, or how many more he could call to him if he declared a Jihad against the invaders. What is known however, that he is perhaps the greatest general in the known world, and it is unlikely that even the monstrosities that have spewed forth from Gorika will be able to unnerve his battlefield genius.

The Fourth Crusade

As France's territorial integrity dwindles, and the Holy Roman Empire struggles to recover from having its heart ripped out, the Pope in Exile has finally taken action. Convinced that Hell has come to claim the planet, Pope Honorius III has declared a Crusade against the Isarimer race. He calls all good Christians, whether they are Catholic or Orthodox, to put aside their differences and unite against the common foe.

This act has been a much needed morale boost to the beleaguered populations of Western Europe. Even now, as the Isarimer consolidate their gains, and the Lorenvolk march unopposed into southern France, thousands of knights, men-at-arms and the much feared Templars are assembling in Northern Italy. It will be some time before the force has gathered its full strength however, but all Gorikan races should fear the moment the pathetic humans, mired in disagreement, fear and cowardice array themselves into one army fit for one purpose: the reclamation of God's realm.

England Stands Ready

Seeing its neighbour teetering on the edge of oblivion, and concerned about its own territorial integrity should France fall, King John has ordered the complete mobilisation of the English Royal Army. Capable of boasting 40,000 knights, men-at-arms and longbowmen, it will be a force to be reckoned with. Cut off from Northern Italy, and therefore unable to join the Fourth Crusade, it is operating free from Papal dictation. Where the King, safe as he is across the channel, will send his men is not yet clear.

However, should France collapse into the dust, one can only assume the English will step in to prop up their besieged former enemy.

France and the Humlon Agree Terms

Relieving the strain somewhat on the collapsing country of the Franks, the Humlon have agreed to a cease fire. In return, King Philip II has ceded them the Nord-Calais-Pas region of France, and has agreed to withdraw his whittled troops from the borders of Flanders. The peace with the demons of the marshes has been looked on with dismay across the Christian world, but the French King cares little - he cannot fight a war on one front, let alone two.

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ARMY CARDS

Bloodstalker Warband [+]

Hellwalker Warhorde [+]

GERMANY

The feast on that night had been worthy of the Gods themselves. At the moment the sky was darkest and the Sunrise was furthest from the Isarimer Warhorde, fires were lit and the greatest yet gathering of Isarimer on this strange, alien world commenced.
The sight would have been utterly horrifying to a Human witnessing the unholy celebrations. It was no wonder that the Isarimer were heralded as Demons from the darkest of Hells. Remains, both Human and Isarimer, were piled fifty feet into the air. Thousand of bodies looming over everything on the horizon, attracting flies and pestilence, rot and decay. Still, the barbarians feasted. Gathering by the hundreds, the pile of flesh was attacked with as much abandon as when it still walked the Earth. The voracious Warhorde consumed every last morsel and remain in hours, devouring it with insatiable hunger. Only the Isarimer were capable of such a morbid display of hatred and wrath. But it served as a consolidation to the rampaging horde, solidifying both their physical and mental grip on their land. The first feast would historically signify the beginnings of a Great Hunt: a period of Isarimer rage so horrible that not even the recently formed Crusades could hope to stand firm. This ‘Pope’ who had ordered the mass gathering of religious soldiers to fight back against the assault from Gorika was a man who had not yet seen the Isarimer with his own eyes. He considered them demons, and LesaLikl planned to prove that assumption more right than he had ever anticipated.

Despite this, Lucifash’s legions poured from the South, finally finding their way from Gorika. The distraction they would cause would be useful to the Isarimer. They were rash, single minded. Much like the Isarimer, but served only to honour their false God, and display a certain arrogance in how intimidating they truly were. Nothing was more frightening to the hearts of men and Gorikans alike than the Isarimer horde. There was something primal in the promise of the Isarimer: not everlasting damnation or torture, but the immediate fear of a most painful death, and a less than honourable disposal of their remains. Crude, but effective.
More Isarimer would come forth, certainly by the time that the Human assembly could march their way to Germany, and LesaLikl would be ready for their puny attempt at battle. For now, the Isarimer would feast, and, with hungering eyes, watch, wait and bide their time. The Humans would die.
Fuck the Sunrise.

LITHUANIA

The Phoenix Crescent and the Bloodwalkers had merged into the Bloodstalker Warhorde who were poised for battle for so long. Like so many nations before it, Belarus could not have been ready for the Isarimer storm. The Bloodstalker horde had swelled in size, nearly forming a Warhorde all of it’s own. A huge tidal crashing of Berserkers and Lesser Breeds rampaging through the country, searching for the seat of power, the main defences, so that they could be consumed and made a part of the Isarimer Hunting Grounds, too. It would be glorious.

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