Discord
Changelog
01-26-2014, 03:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-26-2014, 03:25 PM by The Philosopher.)
Hammer 28th, 1360
We did it. Rashemen is overwhelmed. The Rashemi resistance, whether by the Witches or by the berserkers, is nothing before us. Thanks to us, Yamun Khahan was prevented a disastrous defeat, and we have burned the nation from East to West.
For some reason, I can't feel elated. I should. By all rights, I should. It's a resounding success. We won every major engagement, with laughably small losses when considering our massive numbers. Neither the Witches or the berserkers could stop us, far too focused on our armies at the Gorge of Gauros.
Notions in the wind for me, right now. It realize it, now, as I sit by the edge of Lake Ashane, looking out across the shore.
I was a fool to have ever called war a glorious thing.
How could I ever think it? Riding for hours upon hours, saddle-sores so raw they chafe even as one walks; under snow and damp, constantly cold, surviving on nothing more than dried horse-meat and whatever is foraged from the many villages we have ravaged. The horde is like a cloud of locusts - gobbling up everything as it goes, and yet it is never enough. I am cold, I am miserable, I am still recovering from wounds inflicted during the last skirmish. And this waiting - this terrible waiting.
I can't sit still. Can't let my mind freeze in this cold.
Tonight, I'll leave the first jagun. We've received word from the Red Wizards - ships shall be constructed, so the hordes can cross the lake. It's frozen, impassable. We must set down roots while Winter rages, resume the campaign in Spring. I'll take the opportunity to do some riding of my own, on my own.
I must see Rashemen with my own eyes. Walk among its people. Listen to the language. I let my hair grow for this purpose, and my beard - with any luck, it'll be enough disguise.
We did it. Rashemen is overwhelmed. The Rashemi resistance, whether by the Witches or by the berserkers, is nothing before us. Thanks to us, Yamun Khahan was prevented a disastrous defeat, and we have burned the nation from East to West.
For some reason, I can't feel elated. I should. By all rights, I should. It's a resounding success. We won every major engagement, with laughably small losses when considering our massive numbers. Neither the Witches or the berserkers could stop us, far too focused on our armies at the Gorge of Gauros.
Notions in the wind for me, right now. It realize it, now, as I sit by the edge of Lake Ashane, looking out across the shore.
I was a fool to have ever called war a glorious thing.
How could I ever think it? Riding for hours upon hours, saddle-sores so raw they chafe even as one walks; under snow and damp, constantly cold, surviving on nothing more than dried horse-meat and whatever is foraged from the many villages we have ravaged. The horde is like a cloud of locusts - gobbling up everything as it goes, and yet it is never enough. I am cold, I am miserable, I am still recovering from wounds inflicted during the last skirmish. And this waiting - this terrible waiting.
I can't sit still. Can't let my mind freeze in this cold.
Tonight, I'll leave the first jagun. We've received word from the Red Wizards - ships shall be constructed, so the hordes can cross the lake. It's frozen, impassable. We must set down roots while Winter rages, resume the campaign in Spring. I'll take the opportunity to do some riding of my own, on my own.
I must see Rashemen with my own eyes. Walk among its people. Listen to the language. I let my hair grow for this purpose, and my beard - with any luck, it'll be enough disguise.