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| History of Gilles and the Companions | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 14 2009, 12:16 AM (322 Views) | |
| DMG | Jan 14 2009, 12:16 AM Post #1 |
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In the bygone age before the LORD was known in these lands, the wild men did wreak havoc and rampage across Bretonia. In that time of woe and sorrow, many proud tribes of this fair land were scattered and slaughtered as cattle. Score upon score of wild one armies did ravage and rage like thunderstorms about the land. In the north, virtue fared little more, great barbarians beset river and coast for to burn, pillage and rape. The hateful, twisted beasts of the dark forests harried forth from their darkened groves, and great pyres of Bretonian flesh turned day into night with their smoke. Death did ride unfettered through the lands, disease and pestilence, were his works and they went unchecked. All did seem lost for Bretonia, and the land itself did weep and wail in grief as all life was choked away. Greatly sought out was the safety of strongholds and the horselords. The swordswains did stand aghast as there lands were consumed. But lo! In the land of Carcossone, near the land of Judea, there was a righteous young lord named Gilles. He did refuse to concede his lands to the darkness. Upon a mighty charger he rode out against the foe, those faithful to his sword and to the lands upon his heel. Many of his proud retainers did fall and return to dust, but upon the tip of his lance was the canker devouring Carcossone cleansed. Visions spoke unto Gilles of the multitude of enemies that stood poised to destroy the lands of his peers, hence did Gilles avow to ride forth with his surviving retainers. For should the mighty warhosts of the wild men flow into one great horde, the lands of Bretonia would come unto their doom, and let it be known that at his side rode long time friend and blood brother Thierulf of Lyonesse, and famed sword swain Landuin of Breone the finest blade master that ever was. On the third day, dawn bore witness to them as they made their peace, in the shade of the mountains, prepared to give their lives as one in the next days battle did Gilles see a storm wind pushing a great cloud, and the cloud opened up with fire and rolling thunder. From this opening came a continuous light that did blind Gilles and he fell to his knees weeping. And Gilles had a vision, He saw the likeness of a throne which resembled sapphire stone, and seated above the likeness of the throne was a figure a likeness with the appearance of a man. From his waist upward was his appearance of glowing metal as if full of fire, from his waist downward was the appearance of fire, and there was brightness about him. Like the appearance of the bow that is in the clouds on a day of rain. Then a voice like many running waters spoke to him. " I am YHWH the beginning and the end, the one true living God." Upon hearing this Gilles fell to his face. " Your people are an Idolatrous people, worshiping the land and four legged beasts of which I created for you. Therefore I have past judgments upon you. But for you Gilles, even being apart from my Law have you kept my Law, shall I lift these judgments. One comes to you from me and when he speaks it is I you hear! Arise and come forward.” Gilles arose and witnessed a pillar of fire before, so hot as to melt the very earth. His clothing was alight from more then twenty paces and the Lord said, “ This is the purifying flame, walk through and become my sword ,my instrument of woe to the defilers, it is time.” The Lord gifted his bounty and blessings upon the companions, their bodies were suffused with unearthly strength and light. Their eyes did glow with lambent flame from within and there weapons and armor shone with new power. Thus did Gilles, Landuin, and Thierulf become the first Knights of the holy flame, the famed, Companions. In their midst was a man, a prophet, his name being Isaiah. He hailed from the lands of Judea, He carried with him scrolls which he called the Law and spoke to the retainers of YHWH, as did the three, the host of warriors did here and believe for the glory of god was evident to all. On the following morn the enemy arrayed upon the field, were like unto a living sea, of such number that all hope seemed forlorn. Yet Gilles and his Companions rode forth as vengeful wraiths of war, and parted the tide. Victory after victory was won, a hundred score fell before there might in the opening charge and this did lend courage unto their retainers who rallied about them. Howling winds and lightning did seek to destroy the horde, as if the very elements themselves sought their demise. On a hilltop overlooking the battle stood Isaiah, arms raised to the heavens calling forth the wrath of almighty God. The verdant fields ran crimson and black, and the wild men, were trapped between sword and mountain, fled howling onto the cliffs, many to be claimed by the heights. Few escaped the fury of the blessed knights, and the lands just north of the Reik were saved. Gilles unfurled the standard of the lord upon a great mound and the people rejoiced. In this deed, Gilles had won the first of his famed Twelve Great Battles and with it the allegiance of lord Marcus of Montefort, and Freedmund of Saalador. That day, the first bonds of brotherhood were forged that were to unite all the lands of Bretonia. Gilles victory was a beacon of hope in the bleak and dire night, and his companions were and inspiration to soldier and seneschal alike. Thierulf and Isaiah took the law amongst the people and there was great celebration as Bretonians learned of the living God. Freedmund laid down his sword, and took up the pen, he began inking copies of the word. His days of leading with a sword at an end. Landuin did ask ,”whither shall we go?” and Gilles did reply, “west.” The knights took to the coast of the Endless Sea and the raging waves did calm at their passage through the surf towards embattled Bas-Tyra. They came upon the rear guard of a great war horde of Wild Men, and above this horde was a score of flying beast ,that had the appearance of bat and beast and were more then thrice the height of a man. They did carry scourges in one claw and sword with the likeness of lightning in the other. Upon sight did holy Freedmund pull out a clarion horn, bestowed to him by the prophet Isaiah and he did sound one mighty blast. The skies tore open and shining armored beings with the likeness of men born aloft by glistening wings and caring swords made of fire. This heavenly host set upon the flying beasts with a vengeful zeal. The heavenly host struck terror into the beasts driving them to the ground. The knights fought deep into the heart of the horde, where Landuin struck down the mighty warlord and the Companions did slay the last of the Daemons. The horde trapped between the holy avengers and the sea, fled howling into the cold surf to be clamed by beasts therein. Few escaped that day. Thus was the second great battle won. And so from that day, riding hard, Companions five did travel onward to the besieged castle of Bas-Tyra. Just as they struck the foe garnered about the great moat, Lord Balduin of Bas-Tyra sallied forth across his great oaken drawbridge with the last of his retainers, upon massive destriers covered in armor did they hit the enemy like a mighty hammer. Balduin himself took the brutal axe that day, struck fast by the hand of a mighty berserk , in his shield and emblazoned there for evermore. Though their numbers were outmatched fifteen score to one, the Bretonni tore through the mob like a scythe through wheat in harvest, and Gilles and Balduin did hail well met in the midst of the battle. They clasped forearms as brothers, and the Companions were now six. Thus was the Third Great battle won. Afterward, urged ever on by night visions from the Lord, the Companions did spur there chargers two hundred miles through the shattered lowlands west of Bas-Tyra towards the lands of Armengar. The grim faced lord Lambard of Olivet did spy the standard of YHWH and was compelled to join their side, and as they raced through day and knight they clashed swords with wild ones in the Green heart. The Companions held true, and after many days of endless travel they did come to the river Rine. The shadow of Armengar did fall upon them, but rejoice was denied. They were greatly vexed, at the sight of the forest alight opposite the banks they stood. The Green heart aflame and the mighty city besieged. Though each was bone weary and their mighty steeds near death, the divine power of the LORD flowed strong, and the Companions made haste, Freedmund did stay on the west bank for it was he who called upon the LORD to stop the raging river, and the Companions and their loyal retainers charged into the Wild Ones that did hew and put to flame the ancient forest. A night of blood and fire came upon them, and the Companions fought tirelessly with skill unmatched and with the awesome majesty of the living God. The dark was lit by shining sword and eye ablaze, and the wrath of the LORD was such that his champions could not fall. Tooth and claw joined blade as the natural creatures of the forest did rend and smite flesh. The natural beasts did drag and strike down those that dared to do them harm. Thus did the people of Armengar know the living God. For all things did he create. The fourth battle was won. Granted restful sleep by the LORD, the Companions greeted the new sun to find themselves refreshed, and their wounded bodies whole once more. And Bretonia did know that YHWH was the Lord. Suffused with the vigor of a spring dawn and the eagerness of Zealots, the Companions did ride eastward to lend their swords to the beleaguered watch towers, now amongst their numbers was Rademund the pure. Rademund and Thierulf did speak of sword and faith and the holy word of GOD. So it came that the eight Companions did ride upon the once majestic towers, carved from stark mountainside, only to find after ten knights of long travel that they stood in wrack and ruin. Fell giants aloft in the peaks above did heft and rain boulders down upon the fortress below. Filled with a righteous anger, Thierulf called to the LORD and his brothers Rademund and Freedmund did join him. A storm of rolling thunder and flashing light crashed into the peaks and pillars of fire rained down upon the foul beasts. They did smite the foe. The Norscan (Northman) did defile the streets of the town below the south Watcher, citizens were butchered and fair maidens drug off into slave hood. Through the dusty smoke filled streets did the rest of the eight go, charging down alleys and cleansing the lanes, riding down enemy without number beneath iron shod hoof and sword. The Northman were driven back into the pass. And that day did Agligar bend his knee to Gilles. Thus was the fifth Great battle won. The Companions galloped north to the second tower and town. As the sun set upon the land, they saw the towering Lord Martrud and his kin give a mighty account. They gave it their all to clear a dozen tribes of fierce Northman who poured into the town. Behind them waiting was a tide of blackness, likened to an unstoppable flood. Beside the Norscan were towering armor clad men on massive, thickly muscled horses carrying great axes. Banners of human skulls and grotesque signs of their foul gods held aloft in the midst of tight disciplined ranks. The Kurgan on foot standing half again as tall as the tallest Bretonian soldier. The floor of Blind pass was carpeted with dead and dying. The carrion birds so thick as to blot out the dying rays of light. The Companions rode out into the tide of black clad fiends and did lay about themselves mightily until….. Alas a great woe! In the midst of frenzied combat a giant of a man did cut out the legs of Gilles’s noble steed, Malahdre did fall, and with him his master. For as Gilles arose he was transfixed upon the giants massive sword. With a mighty yell did Marcus cleave off the Kurgans head, But he was just one of many. Weeping, the companions bore their lord in fever dream aloft into the castle. A night of dark grief and desperation came, the Companions as unquiet ghosts around Gilles’s death pallet. Freedmund called upon the LORD throughout the night but the wound was too great. The depths of woe cannot be put forth, of which the Companions did feel. But the LORD reside within Gilles, and as dawn broke the fallen hero did grasp the shaft of the mighty, tainted sword with a great roar and pull it bodily from his chest where light streamed out. Grim and wrathful, Gilles was like unto one of the divine sky-warriors as he rode forth once more, smiting three giants and four score Kurgan. A full week was the castle besieged before the Companions turned the tide. The Norscan and their Kurgan allies fell away, back through the pass into the far lands. But be it known that Gilles would not let the enemy from under his sight, and did lead his companions after the retreating foe. Now ten was the number, for Martrud and Agligar did ride. Plunging deep into the forbidden mountains, where due to the heights it was everlasting night. On and on through the frigid passes their only radiance the flame that licked from blade and blazed from eye. They slew trolls and the giants that came upon them for to bar their way, delving ever farther into the unknown, into the dark heart of the mountains, they were beset by wild men with hellish dogs. Beasts the size of small horses, as limber as cats. Tearing head from shoulder, and felling mighty steed alike. They continued on, feeling no fear. Within those mountains, at the far edge, the Northern Kings were cut down and heads skewered upon lance like hogs. Thus was the seventh battle won. Ten strong, the Bretonian Lords rode north towards Gisoreux. Here they were joined by Beren, master of that troubled land. Once more did they come against foul and frothing Wild men in this their next great battle, but this time the vile men called down the eyes of their base gods. These twin and savage spirits sought to lay lo the Companions, but the heavens did shake with their frustration, for as all know, dark magic’s cannot harm those under the auspice of YHWH. There began a fray, fell and fierce. Lord Thierulf rode before the Companions in a fury like unto a berserk of the north, hewing the heads of a dozen shamans, proclaiming the name of the living God. Tens of thousands numbered the slain that day, yet not a drop of blood fell from the Companions or their men. The Wild Ones fled in disarray, for their conjurations had failed, their gods had failed, their hope had been extinguished as a candle in a storm. Thus was the eighth great battle won. On the morn the Companions made haste to the west. They entered into the forests of LandsEnd. Alas, hope proved false for poor Landuin, for in his absence his brothers land had been turned to smouldering ruin. Cattle lay slaughtered in blackened wasteland, and the once pure river was dark with foulness. A bilious stench carried up from the swampland where in times past virgin glades stood. The Companions rode in grim silence through the gates of LandsEnd for to join with the remnants of Landuins brothers family and Folgar, the neighboring Lord of Artois. Folgar had come with dire news of a great host marching under the moon. A host of death itself. Upon all sides beset by upright beasts and living dead, the Companions fought as chatelaines, two to each wall, their to hold out against the foe. Gilles hewed the head from an immense drake beasts shoulders. Martrud wrestled with a monstrous two headed giant while standing in a breech Freedmund turned the tide of dead as a damn turns the flow of a river. He strode out into the ranks of the enemies breaking the will of the undead, with Rademund and Thierulf by his side slaying scores of foul bat winged fiends who vainly tried to reach him. The Companions found triumph when Agligar, after shedding his armor did slip through the enemy lines and cut down the foul night creature that had called forth the dead, and beast kin and fiend alike fled howling into the darkness of the forest. Thus was the ninth great battle won. Having triumphed, the Companions spurred their warhorses to the north. Thereafter many long nights in the shade of the Dimwood, did they come upon the great fortress city of Natal, and they hoped for respite. But to no avail, as the grand port was embattled by crude men of the north, clad in pelts of fur and steel. The Companions did meet them in a tempestuous battle, joining the lord of the city, Corduin a man of the deep woods. His archers devastating the enemy by the thousands, did hail them from his mighty walls. As the battle raged night upon night and day upon day, the moons turned, and many thousand savages were hewn and cast wailing into the sea. But the fierce foe paid no regard. Grim and determined the northmen would not give, for they sought glory or death in the eyes of their bloody gods. In desperation, Lord Landuin of Breone did throw down his challenge to the fell lord of the Northman, the towering giant Sveengar of the Skaelings, “Find victory or take leave!” In his pride, Svengar would not refuse. Many a brave warrior had met death under the great barbarians bloody hand, yet fear did not chill Landuins heart, for he knew that the LORD was with him. Then did the warriors meet atop the towering lighthouse of Natal, ancient in construct, all of Bretonia at their feet. Clouds roiled and storm lashed as the combatants fought, it was almost as if the elements themselves struggled with one another. Night bowed to day and day to night, and still the warriors fought, a concert of steel reaching the ears of all below. The twin hammers of Svengar could not lay lo mighty Landuin, finally he opened his foe’s guard, and struck his opponent with a blow of such might he fell in twain to the rocks below. In respect of the warrior skills of the Bretonian lords, the Norscans took to their longships and sailed back to their icy homelands. Thus was the tenth battle won. The Companions rested well that night. On the morn , they pressed towards the rising sun unto the lands of Mousillon. There they faced the amassing armies of the Wild One king Raclab pushing downriver. On the banks of the fast flowing river Seine battle was met and the river did run red that day with the blood spilled. The Wild Ones turned their eyes from the great halo of light playing round the Companions, and were struck down into the mire as they turned to flee. Never before had such a great toll of Wild Ones been slain upon a single day, nor ever since. The slaughter so great that unto a hundred generations would they be but a remnant. So much blood quenched the earth that it seems as a marshland underfoot even to this very day. Thus was the eleventh great battle won. The twelfth great battle of Gilles was to fought upon the verdant plains of Sadara. To the North over the river did squat the dark and haunted Dimwood forest. From depths uncharted came loping all manner of monster and great foul beast, giants, and creatures without name. Trolls rolled down out of the distant peaks by the hundred score. The press of beastman was so great that from a vantage they seemed to the Companions as swarming insects blotting out the earth. The horizon was blotted out as the dragon ships of the Norsca descended from the high seas, a thousand strong. There was so great a noise and tumult it seemed as if the earth would shake and split asunder. The Companions made their prayers and arrayed themselves for this the final battle, but disaster played its hand once more, as at their backs the fair city of Sadara was overrun by an unnatural tide of walking dead. Dark cloaked men took their notched blades to the guard and the dead erupted in great numbers from the grave to threaten the Companions from the rear. Surrounded on all sides by a number of foe beyond countenance, the Companions yet stood resolute and without fear for the lords of each of the lands of Bretonia now stood as one. The gathering complete, their brotherhood and bonds of faith stood stronger than steel. They knew in their hearts that the power of YHWH flowed through them that day, and that none could stand against. Mighty indeed was this last an most epic of battles and each Companion as well as retainers performed such deeds as to fill the sagas of wordsmiths and scribes until the end of time. The moon raced across the darkened sky, replaced by the burning orb of the sun but to no respite. Only the LORD knows the number of weeks that saw battle, but against all odds, the Companions emerged victorious. The piles of dead were stacked likened unto mountains, and the searing pyres burnt the slain enemy such that night was turned to day for a season and more on the plains of Sadara. Thus was the twelfth and final great battle won. Alas many years later, death did take his due. Gilles honored as the Uniter was finally struck down. A veritable god of war that had by the gifts of YHWH won peace, some whispered he had no place. For even after siring children he could not rest. He sought out battle where ever it lay. For the LORD had made him a mighty man, a man with bloody hands, “and whom so ever shall shed man’s blood by man shall his blood be shed.” |
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| Roland | Jan 14 2009, 01:27 AM Post #2 |
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Bravo a campaign history of its equal has yet to be written. Roland |
| ROLAND | |
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| Jakub Escroc | Jan 14 2009, 10:17 AM Post #3 |
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Wow. Fifteen minutes of reading well spent. |
| The artist formerly known as Gideon Trueblood | |
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8:28 PM Jul 10