Record of the First Battle of Skalds

[LikeABawse]

The Battle of the Skalds was hosted in the Great Watchman at Auld Wyrm Hearth on 1 Kythorn, 1381 by Dale Reckoning.

Once the Guests had arrived, Chieftain Varad Zapolya II welcomed everyone to the Great Watchman, announcing his intention to join the judges but otherwise leave the celebration to his loyal Wyrm Watchers to coordinate.

The Celebration began with an invocation from Battle Chaplain Imal Seid.

Many of you were present, some were not, during the Great Seige of the Commital Army.  Those who were here for it knew that it was a War of great importance and that Mistlocke fought for its very survival.  Now that the War is done, we must remember that the danger is not entirely passed, there are more threats which we face.

But just as we faced the Commital Horde with out own, Committed people... we shall stand tall against all threats and overcome them.  When I put out the call for Skalds, I was somewhat surprised to see so few names upon our lists.  And of those names, I see none here today.  Yet here we are…

Refreshments are ready and all are ready to hear a tale or two...

So, I will begin not with a story... but a prayer.

TEMPUS!

We gather to honor the Battles of the recent War waged.  Men fought and died honorably upon the field of battle, fighting for noble and just causes.  We gather here to remember these men and the battles they valiantly fought.  We will never forget the sacrifices of Soldiers, many who rest with their own Patrons, but many who have joined you in Warrior's Rest.

Upon the final battle in the Sands and the Last Keep... the Roll:

Erik Gerrtson.
Eann'a Mac'an Setanta.
Lucius.
Throm.
Sigmund.
Sarah Carinna.
Raigun Windcaller.
Aiden Crown.
Aers Fenthall.
Ronald Bogfeet.
Heinrik.
Wilkins.
Gurigan Blabbar.
Mathal.
Morton Alcott.
Philip Cobbler.
Mororn Glaemril.
Adari the Scarab.
Wokhiva the Tiger.
Syll Culynnsyr.
Vapor Tumbledown.

Honor these names each of you.

And Tempus, I ask that you smile upon them, wherever they may be, for they died engaged in that Holy Devotion.  Watch us now and remember that we honor them, and in doing so, we honor you.

The first tale was told by the dwarven smith Toignar.  He told not a tale of the War but of one of the fallen, his friend Gurigan Blabbar.

So.  Blabber.  He were a right stout.  Remember him well.  Tale I'm gonna speak is true, every word.

Not many know't, but Blabber were once tryin' t'be a Horseman.  Figured he'd start a Cavalry o'his own.  I didnt say he were smart.  Bought all his gear from manfolk merchants, he did.

Month in t'his trainin', he started getting pain.  Down here.  *grabs himself*  Apologies t'the ladies present.  So he goes t'the herbalist, Right?

He says "I got a pain in m'nubbers!  Think it may be th'saddle, Doc."

So the Herbalist, he gets down on th'floor, tells ol' Blabber t'drop drop drawers

Doc, now he says "Cough", an ol' Blabber he coughs

Doc says "Cough again", and ol Blabber, he coughs again.

Finally he says "Ahah!" and takes out his trimmin' knife.

Blabber, now he's scared t'look, right?  Doc cuts a bit here, cuts a bit there.  Blabbers' eyes are closed the whole time but he dont feel a thing!

Then the Doc stands up, pats him on th'shoulder, an' says "All done!"

Blabber cant help but notice that th'pain in his nubbers is gone!  So ol' Blabber, he says "Thats amazin' Doc, what'd you do?"

An' the Doc says, no word o'lie.  "I cut two inches off th'top o' ye're boots!"

Blabber.  Miss'im.

The next tale was told by Tobias Markham, as follows:

I jus wanna remind ya'll that tha war what was fought wasn't jus fought in tha main battle.  In fact, I'd have ta say that if it weren't fer all tha skirmishes, pickin off bits an pieces of tha army like...

Maybe we wouldn'ta won at all

So my story ain't bout tha war exactly but a time afore then, A skirmish...

Me an a buncha folks were up in tha mountains fightin orcs, an we come down inta tha desert an had an encounter with a nutter.  Now maybe he was mist mad, I dunno.  So he pulled a fast one on us an I ain't gonna go inta that but suffic eta say he got us good

We got real pissed an chased im all over tha damn desert, an wwhatta ya know... that nutter led us right ta tha barricades of tha damn comital encampment.  We all realized at tha same time, I think.  Came ta a halt an froze but it were too late!

They seen us an out they come, tha damned comital rubies.  We fought em fer a while but we were already battered and outta spells an shit from tha orcs an then tha nutter what led us on such a merry chase.

An anyone what's fought them Rubies knows, they were tough buggers, so we ran.

Had ta! Weren't no shame in et, we ran all tha damn way back inta tha mist an we thought, "we're safe!" cause we seemed ta have left em in tha Scars, an we figured they wasn't ready fer an all-out confrontation so they'd not come to tha gates

But guess what? They did!

Those fuckers.

They came all tha way to tha damn crossroads an who come with them but that gods-damned mounted Ruby.  I can't remember his name but it ain't important I suppose.  Anyhow there he was, with his men, an a handfulla us.

We weren't sure what was gonna happen but I knew one thing fer certain:  Zal was there.

Anyone ever fought with Zal knows that he was one ta tip tha scales both becausea what a good fighter he was an becausea tha motivation he gave others by his presence.  He was that sort, aye.

Anyhow, they exchanged some purty words, with that mounted Ruby bein all smarmy like they are, an then there was ta be a duel!  I figured, this could end things right here an now.

Them Rubies were so fierce, when he got down offa his horse ta fight Zal tha damn horse ran at Zal an attacked all on its own!

Gods damned Ruby horse attack!

Zal killed et ...

An then it was on!

They fought like nothin I ever seen, blindin speed, quaffin potionsa' crap I didn't know what et was.  Tha damn Ruby won, sorta. He knocked Zal flat and then everythin went ta chaos.  We all jumped im, that Ruby!  I fought im toe ta toe an I ain't ashamed ta say I was tastin tha dirt afore I landed two blows on im, that's how tough he was.

In tha end though, they were chased back to tha desert, an the men he came with killed, along with that damn horse.

Now this may sound like a talea failure, but wars ain't won in one shot alone an that's tha lesson.  Lotta skirmishes fought, a lotta heroes made even afore tha big battle.  We picked em off, kept up our morale and in tha end- we won

Zal fought that same Ruby, in tha end, an beat im.

An now Zal is fallen, but will always be a hero, an I'll always remember him challengin that Ruby an inspirin others.
 
That's all I got. Thanks.

Roxanne Vesper:

Rememberance

Lathander shone bright that day,
Gleaming armor, grim faces.
Many men lined to march away,
Fighting deadly men from far off places.

Into sands blinding a cruel,
They strode to meet destiny.
Be it in thier own blood pool,
Or standing tall till the end, to see.

The clouds parted, sky now clear.
The din of battle finally done.
The ones that paid the price for victory,
Will be carried eternal, by the hearts of everyone.

It was then that Watcher Skald Marcail MacCullen performed her piece.

This battle was won not only in one fight, but in many.  It was won in the hearts and swords of the warriors.  But, as most know, the tales we tell and those we sing of will be of the finale fight.  The time when we say the Viceroy cleared from our home.

This is the tale I shall tell.

The Watchers called they go to battle
Defend the cities all.
With sword and axe They march to war
Knowing well that some may fall

People of Ymph, the Watchers called
Tho' all the land betrays thee,
Our swords thy right shall guard
Our warriors might defends thee.

Upon the last Keep, the battle did rage
Mighty Of Ol' Port trapped within
The halls were charged, The battle cries roared
The blood ran thick and thin

With mighty speed and frightening strength
The Battle did rage on.  
Though betrayal most foul, and Sights most gruesome,
The Viceroy they came upon

Few words were spoke, the truth now heard
The blade of one sang true
Upon the floor, the Viceroy now lay
His neck was cleaved in two

This battle over, yet more shall come
For the truth now is known
Mistlocke is the key They seek,
For within it is the throne

After the Watcher Skald, Brother Saul Jereb of the Brotherhood of Mercy wished to share a piece he wrote of his friends.

Ilmater, lord of peace tells us to heal the sick and feed the poor.... but he tells us that we must stand up before all tyrants.... so in that theme, I offer this son to two heroes who were overlooked from the war.

The Sons of Ymph.

A wicked man, a sour man
Sat in his golden keep
On his throne, yet all alone
His black heart would make others weep.

Though men did bow and they would cow
It was not enough for he
So with his command, this Count did send
His soldiers upon the sea.

With pure disdain he thought to chain
The people of this land
But the tyrant would soon see
But ruin from his plan.

For the Sons of Ymph have fought and bled
But what mad thought was in His head
To think he would prevail
When we had beat the Dead?

And so the Tyrant sent his fleet
And landed on our sand
Steel and sword and bow and shield
To drive us from our land.

So the Sons of Ymph did rally forth
And say their last goodbyes
They gathered up their swords and bows
March to give the Tyrant their reply.

Deep in the forest did they meet
With Gaeseric at the lead
A challenge forth to tell us yield
But the answer would not please.

Gaeseric strode forth and made it clear
Who would win the field
In a mighty voice boomed to call:
"I AM GAESeRIC AND I WILL NOT YIELD!"

The battle came and blood was shed
And wives would weep
The Sons of Ymph had met the foe
But the land they could not keep.  

Yet heroes made and heroes lost as the fight
Their courage would not fail
the war raged on by one in red
The maiden Abigail.

For when the Tyrant's men would eat
Would sleep, would shit, would march
Arrows come and sword and steel
Abigail in the dark.

And though the Maiden fell
The price the Tyrant paid was dear
And respite bought, with her blood
The future would be very clear.

The Tyrant's army thought soon
With treasure they would be laden
Yet the icy grasp is all they would feel
Of another Maiden.

The Sons of Ymph did bide their time
Till the Tyrant walked
So on a bridge, between the stones, the Sons of Ymph
Chalked a line which would not be crossed.

And many bled and many died
But Mathal would not fall,
Son of Torm, held the Tyrant and bay
And feasts now in the Dutiful's Hall.

For many feared the Tyrant's wicked stare
The Sons of Ymph did swear:
"We are free and tyrant's we fear not,
We do not despair!"

For the Sons of Ymph bow not to tyrants and never will they fall!

Brothers and Sisters, let us pray for a peace when men beat their swords into plow shears and we know not war, anymore.

Marcus Smith Was the next to speak, he wished to tell of the ones from Old Stones who joined the battle, exiles from Mistlocke who still fought the fight for all.

Cobbler and Morten were both of the stones, exiled under whatever reasons. They had every reason to turn on what was once their home.  The rubies offers came in abudance, wealth, fame and power, to the cursed lost and forgotton they offered to make us kings in a new age.

Offers well turned down, for in Mistlockes darkest hour, even those who were cast out to deal with the maidens touch, to walk alone and sleep in halls were the feeling of knives in your gut is how you sleep, stood united for a common cause, against the shackles of oppression. They showed a true message we should take from this. A message of hope, that even when all feels lost, humanity can stand united and overcome trials even the gods would think impossible.

Now, may be I should have prepared something better, but i only recently found out my fellow residents were in such a battle. An the information cause me to sober up enough to think of a little poem.  

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
For what reason do these legions march to battle?

Greed, hunger fame or more
Perhaps at home some sulty whore.

I ask again why so many marched and risked their lives
To lay in shallow graves bellies filled with blunted knives.

Weeped are their maidens now who know no love
Unaswered are their prayers to the gods above.

Shaken, broken, devoid of hope.
What will the next day bring when they can not cope

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
No bells for those who die in this battle...
[LikeABawse] Imal Seid: [Talk] *slowly rises*

No we shout and and scream a thousand legions roar!
To those who would shackle us all we say -NO MORE-

Stained with a ruby red tide,
Marching forward with a lions pride!

A tide of which was never seen
To march into future pastures truest green

The enemy turns on heel and runs,
Their cause lost under the force of a thousand suns,

We scream to them, -come with us to the dark abyss,
Let yourselves feel true deaths final kiss-

And as the smoke clears and enemy is killed one by one,
It is clear to us it was not a battle but a war...

We just won…

After the moving piece by the man from the Old Stones, Isabella Valencia stood to bring her story.

If a story is to be sung, my little birds. I'll share with you my thoughts on the war for my song doesn't have the bloodied glory and sweat of a battlefield. My song doesn't retell the tense swordplay and bravery that every soldiers felt as they clashed upon the bloodied plains of Agramant.

My song, my doves, speak of the Count, drabbed in his jewels and rubies, safe within his city.

There upon his luxurious palace, he decided to gather one of the largest army that the Archipelago had seen in order to conquer a small rural village of irreducible warriors of old.

He did so not for the wealth.  Not for the glory.

But for the legend that Mistlocke holds the throne where the future King of the Isles will be crowned. Where the champion sought by the Wyrm Watchers will be born and where the true withering of the Lichess and Curse will begin signing our freedom, signing our right to leave this place and return to our home.

We hold in our hands, within this village, part of the key to finding our King. Part of the key into finding our hope, and part of the key into defeating the curse that enslaved all of us.

Remember the battles, yes. But remember the cause of this war more so, and remember to always be looking for hope and the King-To-Be so that we may end the -true- war against the Lichess.

After Isabella has finished, the final tale would be told, an unforgettably dramatic piece given by the Aberdenn Spearman Cadwaldr y Dwrnach.

(He blows a Warhorn)

AWAKE! AWAKE!

Spears are gathered upon the horizon! They are upon us! They are coming! AWAKE! AWAKE! For the Count is come!

Gather your blades, and guard yourselves with courage! They come now for our lives, they come now for our freedoms, they come now for Mistlocke! Awake, awake! Rally, rally!

Upon the Scarred Lands we rally. With spear, with bow and blade. Boys and men, shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield!

And upon the horizon, they wait. We see them, great demons in red. Horned and terrible to behold. They roar and howl, and spit and hiss - and the fear clutches us yet no man runs. No man can run. There is nowhere left.

Silence.

(Here he plays a rhythm upon his shield.)

No man speaks. No man breathes. No man dares to move. The Wall stands firm. One of demons and monsters, the other of men and boys. Two great beasts, one staring at the other. No man speaks. No man breathes. No man dares to move.

(The Warhorn is blown again)

FEAR NOT, FOR HE IS COME! OUR LIGHT IN THE DARK! DARYD IS COME! DARYD IS COME!

And Daryd did come. He stepped upon the field and no greater sight a man has ever seen. Daryd the Strong, Daryd the Brave, Daryd the Indomidable.

With spear in one hand, and shield in the other. With him came hope, with him came courage, with him came victory -

Boys became men, and men were bolstered still. No man thought now of running. No man thought now of cowardice. For Daryd had come, and the day would be won -

ABERDENN! ABERDENN! ABERDENN! ARTHUR! ARTHUR! ARTHUR!

Chief Aberdenn!

DARYD! DARYD! DARYD!

And thus was the Breaking of the Wall, and thus the Demons were banished, and thus Daryd was a hero, a Champion -

But hark! Hiss, hiss. A snake in the grass.

"DARYD!" The snake called.  "DARYD, DARYD!"

And turn our hero did, our Champion. He turned to the hissing snake that slithered in the grass...

(Here the man threw a spear into the ground, signaling that the snake was killed.)

"Know that upon this day, upon this hour, upon this moment .. we shall have painted these Scars Ruby Red..."

(Then the Man collapsed, in exhaustion, ending his performace.)

After the Stories were told, it was that Chieftain Varad Zapolya II, Battle Chaplain Imal Seid, Dawnbringer Roxanne Vesper, and Caermyn Soldier Tiberius Maximus conferred as judges for the Battle, but not before the Battle Chaplain opened the ring for bouts, in honor of the recently passed Pitmaster of Mistlocke, Kreegar Gutripper.

Many bouts were held, all in the nature of camaraderie and friendship, each showing their skill to others.

After some time, the judges returned and Chieftain Zapolya announced the winners of the Battle of the Skalds.

Very good.  I see we are fewer here now but no matter. Marcus, Marcail and bannersman of Aberdenn?  Are you three here?

Come on here then.

Four judges presided over the votes and we gave all voice to our preference. You three were those who merited above the others for your representation of our challenge: the celebration and remembrance of a war past.

The winner of this long battle of skalds is...

Marcus Smith, for his piercing presentation. Congratulations!

(Great applause was had at this time for the winner.)

However... It would behoove us not to have only one reward fo the many orators in performance this night. For every winner, there is always the one who came second!

The outcome was not straightforward so we had to vote again.  The second place in the battle of the skalds, the victor who did not achieve the highest glory but nonetheless merited much to his or her reputation is...

... a tie, we were stumped. So a reward and applause are given Marcail MacCullen for her truer performance in the arts sought and Cadwaldr of Aberdenn for his excellent theathrics!

Enjoy the moment of glory truthfully earned, we will bring a reward for you all later. And an applause to all who participated, for their work here!

Well done!

Afterwards, the Chieftain rewarded the Winners for their performance and many of the celebrants stayed to enjoy good company, good food, and good drink.

Thus was it that the first Wyrm Watcher hosted Battle of Skalds was a success, that men and women were remembered, and esprit de corps was built.