Fall of the Reiksfort
New
The conclusion of the Reik in flames
All knew that the fall of the Reiksfort would be the true end of the rebellion. With the siege of Taalheim dealt with after the beastmen, having not realized the threat posed by dwarven cannons, allowed them to set up optimum firing positions before the battle was actually joined. A deceit that the Dawi would unlikely be able to repeat, the memory driven so deeply into the psyche of the beastmen of Aldankor that it would surely reverberate for generations. Thus after a decisive if hard fought battle, the tribes were splintered and the beastmen could be considered dealt with for the moment.
In the rest of the southern provinces, mop up operations continued. The Dawi surprise assault of the previous six months having already shattered what remained of the overstretched insurrectionists. The remaining armies of the Reik not dedicated to the Reiksfort assault swept throughout the remaining lands, breaking through whatever minor resistance was left in their wake, until by years end after the Dawi intervention, the rebellion in the south could be considered concluded and long refugee trains began returning to blasted, hollowed out homes. The towns of the region mustering barely half the number of inhabitants they had possessed only a few years ago, once the vengeful Reiklanders had purged those who remained.
Up in the north, a similar attempt was made to close out the campaign. But here the opponents were far less spent. Consolidated and reinforced the northern rebellion was able to match the blows the Reiklanders sent their way and though some towns changed hands and large battles were fought, a stalemate is all the the emperor could force out of the rebels who continued to resist, primarily utilising the wooded terrain as well as the Talabec as natural barriers, hindering the larger imperial armies.
The war had turned. A few provinces, even if they met isolated successes could not hold out against two whole empires, and slowly but surely the noose was pulled around the neck of the rebellion. Until at last, with a barrage of cannon that dwarfed any seen since the war of the northern holds the battle for the Reiksfort began.
The battle, though hard fought, was nonetheless an extremely strange affair. Which concerned the allied commanders. For even if resistance was a forlorn hope, at least the defenders would man the walls and attempt to resist as they were most able. Yet as the combined host of elves, dwarfs and humans approached, only a few isolated towers and sections of the walls were actually manned by the enemy. Battle was only truly joined after the walls were successfully taken, yet even here resistance was haphazard and the city itself eerily quiet, though certainly not quiescent.
The walls themselves pulsed, occasionally spurting blood from fissures in the masonry. While horrific mutilations of creatures stalked the empty streets. Dogs, driven mad by the aura of travesty that surrounded them had serrated bone spines jut out of them, and flung themselves at the allied forces in a ravenous rage. Seeking an end to either their lives or the unending bloodlust that engulfed their primal minds. Even the trees themselves that lined the boulevards reached forth with with twisting branches, the bronze leaves that adorned them leaving wounds that bled ceaselessly from even the shallowest of cuts.
The defenders themselves were if anything in an even worse state than the city itself. The once normal soldiers and levies that made up the majority of their forces had seemingly devolved over the past few months since the last major engagements. All sported some mutation, whether it be multiple arms, horns or a scaled hide, and many had been reduced entirely to spawnhood. Mutated beyond recognition these shambling hulks of limbs, spines and tentacles were corralled into packs and only released at the allied lines as the enemy approached. But even if the more recognisably human rebels maintained a facade of sanity, even they bore their corruption in their minds. Fighting with unrelenting ferocity, endurance and martial valor that is almost unheard of those outside of either the heroic or insane.
The only ones who seemed entirely in control of themselves, were those garbed in the battle plate once so rarely seen among the umgi hosts of the dum. But rather than fighting at the forefront of their defensive lines, scattered almost arbitrarily throughout the city. These mighty warriors fought at the backline, holding fast until the last of them fell and slaying any of their fellows who were willing to turn tail and flee further into the heart of the city. THus they fell where they fought. Their battered copses staring lifelessly into the sky as the blood congealed in puddles beneath them.
The horrors did not cease as the second and third waves were sent into the city, as finally the forces came upon the river running through the Reiksfort, For its path was thick and sluggish as it ran with the blood of tens of thousands of people. New, wooden bridges built from the rubble of destroyed houses had been constructed and now carried the remains of the civilian populace of the city. Their desecrated corpses leaking their vital essence into the river below them.
As the hosts of the allies closed in, resistance gradually increased, as the battle drew closer and closer to the Königreichshalle, the great castle at the centre of the city. Whatever strange strategy the enemy was utilizing seemed to still prioritise keeping the commander of the whole enterprise alive. Still however, the enemies refusal to move from their positions meant that no matter how stout, or ferocious the defence they would eventually fall to their enemies' advance. The Gnolumgi pikewall advancing down one road while the Reiks Foederati pushed down others, the high throng took a third and the elves of Lauralorn a fourth.
Eventually at the very centre of the city after near an entire day since the commencement of operations both sides managed to reach the centre of the city. Where fully three hundred warriors sworn to khorne in full battle plate fought to guard the centre of the courtyard, ankle deep in blood that seemed to surge forth endlessly from its center. Here designs of the enemy were finally revealed as kneeling upon the flagstones was the pretender, still wearing his false crown. Eight naked men, coated in red, stood around him, constantly swinging blades into his exposed flesh, creating great, jagged wounds through which torrents of blood emerged, more than any human body could possibly hold, yet still the usurper lived.
Even while they fought the false king's bodyguard it was clear that the ritual was succeeding as his body began now to fall apart, flesh falling from muscle and then muscle from bone as the roar of battle continued, commanders pushing the allied forces forward as they saw doom approach. Even as his body was reduced to naught but bone the fallen king remained his bones collapsing while his skull, with twin burning flames for eyes kept above the ground by some unbending, unshakeable will. The eight men surrounding the skull now froze, captured by the spell and now met an equally gruesome fate. Their flesh bones and sinew falling away and moving toward the floating skull, their bodies used as material as the skull rose higher and higher into the air. The raw material of the cultists used as material to forge a great archway dozens of feet tall. The skull forming the keystone piece as with a sudden flash of otherworldly light the gateway to hell opened. The sounds of battle redoubling and redoubling again as a gateway to the lord of battle realm was forged, dozens of blood red daemons garbed in blackened plate and wielding great blades leapt through the wound between worlds.
Behind them, standing near as tall as the gate itself, marched a creature of malice made manifest. With armour as black as its warriors and great wings stretching forth behind it like a bloody shroud. Turning back briefly for the skull that formed its gateway, it spoke almost kindly to the tiny skull then, in a voice the rang with bloodshed and slaughter. "Little king, here, bear well Khorne's gift for you, to watch over your kingdom forever more" With that the creature conjured forth a blade of bronze flame and strode to join the slaughter, his soldiers at his feet even still exiting the portal marching with him.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Versidus swung his blade again and again at the writhing monster before him. Its runic edge lending him the strength needed to match his daemonic opponent, its own glowing and already blooded blade sparking against his as they dueled in the blasted streets. As soon as the demons had emerged, a mad bloodlust had descended even upon their own men, his sworn brothers. He himself had managed to resist the urge to land a blow against those closest to him but here and there throughout the ranks he had heard someone give in to the false call to bloodshed, who in turn had been bitterly cut down by those whom they had shared bread with just that morning. Members of the gnolumgi brotherhood, found wanting only against the most supernatural of foes.
Nearly half an hour had passed since then as the battle had come closer and closer to his ranks. The occasional half step forward of the battalions the only indication that they were perhaps still making progress against the enemy. Death hung thickly in the air though as the battle progressed, only a bare handful of the wounded being pulled back along the streets to seek medical attention elsewhere. Until at last, Garaluk, Versidus's norscan friend from the far north was cut down by the demon before him and with the streets too uneven and haphazard for pike work, Versidus had drawn his blade and buckler, ready for what would likely be the last duel of his life.
Feinting with a stab forward, his speed enhanced again by the runic plate that he wore, he managed to trick the demon into an overzealous lunge, and with a kick sent the demon sprawling for long enough to follow up with a stab of his own. The creature, unbound by the natural laws that ruled man and beast, recovered with unnatural swiftness, redirecting his own blade into little more than a shallow slice across its shoulder, a black facsimile of blood spurting from the ravaged red flesh. With a sickening grin and almost a glimmer of respect the demon rushed forward again, its blade a whir of daemonic malice.
For minutes more the battle progressed, daemonic resilience, strength and skill pitted up against dwaven artifice and human discipline, with each accumulating pits and scrapes as slight missteps were punished by the other. Beside him, Versidius could just manage to tell that his brothers were engaged in their own contests of skill, with his personal opponent seeming to relish the challenge that came with fighting the pinnacle of human fighting excellence. Then a sound from across the river made the Gnolumgi veteran wear his own matching grin, for the roar of cannon is familiar to any veteran of dwarven armies. Especially as the staccato blasts seemed to indicate that some mad artillery thane had somehow managed to emplace a full battery on the riverbank.
The effect on his foe was even greater though, as with the third boom of a cannon a great shattering could be heard, the screeching of shattering glass, bone and metal reaching into his soul as much as his ear, and instantly the bloodlust that he had ceased to consciously notice faded to a dull roar, while fatigue and sorrow crept into his mind for the first time since the portal was created. His daemonic enemy though was suddenly diminished, seeming to almost shrink before him, its blows less sure and striking with far less strength. Versidius took advantage, smashing the blade aside with his buckler and decapitating the bloodthirster with a great sweep of his runic blade, adding to its storied history.
The moment's respite gave him a moment to look around for just a moment, only for long enough to see the great daemon at the centre of the square blown backward in a tide of gore as a cannonball smashed into his chest. Then a great beast of bronze took up most of his vision as a blade was swung at his head.
What felt like moments later however as he and his neighbors attempted to push back the juggernaut, a cry came from the back that filled him with both fear and elation. "Baragunk!" went up the call for point blank bombardment and matching his brothers Versidius raised shields and fell back as quick as he could while maintaining a shield wall. While before them a sleet wall of grapeshot turned everything on the road and buildings behind it into so much twisted, bloody wreckage.
Successive blasts, each pointed a little bit further along the road culled ever more of the daemonic advance, and seeing the opportunity, the captain called "Khazukan Kazakit-ha!" The ancient war cry of the Dawi. Breaking ranks, the Gnolumgi surged forward onto their scattered foes.
Versidius raced forward as he and his kin roared the ancient call, the few daemons remaining being set upon by groups of three or four of his brothers…he had eyes only for one foe however, for climbing to his knees, the marred body of the great demon looked a wreck. Its armour rent with holes and a wing ripped off entire. It knelt in the wreckage of its gateway for a moment, before, from behind it, came a series of searing bright white beams of light, lacerating its flesh. Its form almost began to melt for a moment before with conscious effort, it seemed to solidify, and with a contemptuous flick of its blade, scattered a small party of elves that were charging from its right.
The opening was made however for Versidius and his fellows, some few of which, armed with muskets drew up and blasted the great creature in its fanged jaw causing it to rear back if but a moment, and by then the Gnolumgi brethren were upon the creature, hacking away at its enormous bulk. Yet with a great yell Versidius took a second path and sheathing his blade, made a great leap onto the beast, grasping onto the edge of the armour made by the passage of a cannonball, he hoisted himself up the creatures front while it laid waste to his fellows below with sword and flame. Pulling himself up the beast's frame in but a few motions, he finally found himself grasping the creature's gorget, and with a final yell and burst of effort, he brought forth his blade and rammed it into the creature's skull, bringing an end to the siege of the Reiksfort.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the war in the south effectively won, it was only a few months until a truly unassailable force was gathered, ready to invade the northern rebellion and see this chapter in the Reiks history closed now and forevermore. It was at this point however that those in the north seemingly finally saw the folly in their doomed endeavour and approached the allied empires with an offer of surrender. All high nobles of their realm would forfeit their lives and those of their families, except for one child below ten in each family. Who was to inherit everything, the minor nobility would also be thoroughly purged with only those who were able to prove active opposition to the spreading corruption allowed to remain intact.
Throughout the rest of the re-conquered territories enormous purges took place with any seeming trace of corruption hunted down by the inquisition in their new and ongoing quest to destroy all remnants of chaotic corruption. Resettling the depopulated towns and terraces with more trusted Brigundian stock. A fools quest, in this shattered world to hunt for all traces of chaos corruption. But the Umgi, despite their flaws are tenacious sort when the need is made clear enough. and their would be significant surprise if such a rebellion could take shape beneath their feet once more.
As for the Reiksfort however, the city would be burned to ash and what very few of its populace remained put to the sword. Perhaps in time some solution could be found and some semblance of sanity be restored for the region. For now however it sits, a reminder of the dangers that listening to the whispers in the dark can bring.
—----------------------------------------
Of course the Reik also appreciates the assistance provided by the Karaz Ankor in their hour of need and agrees that they shall abide by the treaties they signed at the beginning of the dwarfen intervention. Deeds and announcements are signed and spread across the Reik even at the great reluctance of the emperor himself agreeing that new Stancatia is considered now and in perpetuity the domain of the Stancati tribes and a treaty of friendship and goodwill is signed with them to last 99 years.
Meanwhile a far more pervasive and in depth analysis of how applying Dawi law in the human realm will function. Ultimately though it comes down to an assignment of a governor and small staff to all major human settlements who can apply the High Kings will as he sees fit inside the dwarven quarter. With those residing outside the Ankor itself being considered outlaws if they inhabit the Reik and do not identify themselves at one of these governorates. There is substantial grumbling throughout the Reik from these expatriate dwarfs, especially those who were using the human realm as a very involved method of tax evasion. Those who truly have a problem with the situation though soon simply relocate to Kaltnord, Tilea or Brettonia who have no such extraterritorial arrangements.
-------------------------------------
Of course with the final accounting completed and the Dawi returning home from their campaigns, the thanes could finally make an accounting of the losses that had been incurred throughout the campaign. In order to see their ally stabilized and peace brought once more to the Reik basin, the Dawi paid a steep price, with slightly over thirty thousand lost in the war, scattered throughout but mainly focussed on the campaign toward the reikfort itself which saw the rebellion utterly crushed once and for all.
All knew that the fall of the Reiksfort would be the true end of the rebellion. With the siege of Taalheim dealt with after the beastmen, having not realized the threat posed by dwarven cannons, allowed them to set up optimum firing positions before the battle was actually joined. A deceit that the Dawi would unlikely be able to repeat, the memory driven so deeply into the psyche of the beastmen of Aldankor that it would surely reverberate for generations. Thus after a decisive if hard fought battle, the tribes were splintered and the beastmen could be considered dealt with for the moment.
In the rest of the southern provinces, mop up operations continued. The Dawi surprise assault of the previous six months having already shattered what remained of the overstretched insurrectionists. The remaining armies of the Reik not dedicated to the Reiksfort assault swept throughout the remaining lands, breaking through whatever minor resistance was left in their wake, until by years end after the Dawi intervention, the rebellion in the south could be considered concluded and long refugee trains began returning to blasted, hollowed out homes. The towns of the region mustering barely half the number of inhabitants they had possessed only a few years ago, once the vengeful Reiklanders had purged those who remained.
Up in the north, a similar attempt was made to close out the campaign. But here the opponents were far less spent. Consolidated and reinforced the northern rebellion was able to match the blows the Reiklanders sent their way and though some towns changed hands and large battles were fought, a stalemate is all the the emperor could force out of the rebels who continued to resist, primarily utilising the wooded terrain as well as the Talabec as natural barriers, hindering the larger imperial armies.
The war had turned. A few provinces, even if they met isolated successes could not hold out against two whole empires, and slowly but surely the noose was pulled around the neck of the rebellion. Until at last, with a barrage of cannon that dwarfed any seen since the war of the northern holds the battle for the Reiksfort began.
The battle, though hard fought, was nonetheless an extremely strange affair. Which concerned the allied commanders. For even if resistance was a forlorn hope, at least the defenders would man the walls and attempt to resist as they were most able. Yet as the combined host of elves, dwarfs and humans approached, only a few isolated towers and sections of the walls were actually manned by the enemy. Battle was only truly joined after the walls were successfully taken, yet even here resistance was haphazard and the city itself eerily quiet, though certainly not quiescent.
The walls themselves pulsed, occasionally spurting blood from fissures in the masonry. While horrific mutilations of creatures stalked the empty streets. Dogs, driven mad by the aura of travesty that surrounded them had serrated bone spines jut out of them, and flung themselves at the allied forces in a ravenous rage. Seeking an end to either their lives or the unending bloodlust that engulfed their primal minds. Even the trees themselves that lined the boulevards reached forth with with twisting branches, the bronze leaves that adorned them leaving wounds that bled ceaselessly from even the shallowest of cuts.
The defenders themselves were if anything in an even worse state than the city itself. The once normal soldiers and levies that made up the majority of their forces had seemingly devolved over the past few months since the last major engagements. All sported some mutation, whether it be multiple arms, horns or a scaled hide, and many had been reduced entirely to spawnhood. Mutated beyond recognition these shambling hulks of limbs, spines and tentacles were corralled into packs and only released at the allied lines as the enemy approached. But even if the more recognisably human rebels maintained a facade of sanity, even they bore their corruption in their minds. Fighting with unrelenting ferocity, endurance and martial valor that is almost unheard of those outside of either the heroic or insane.
The only ones who seemed entirely in control of themselves, were those garbed in the battle plate once so rarely seen among the umgi hosts of the dum. But rather than fighting at the forefront of their defensive lines, scattered almost arbitrarily throughout the city. These mighty warriors fought at the backline, holding fast until the last of them fell and slaying any of their fellows who were willing to turn tail and flee further into the heart of the city. THus they fell where they fought. Their battered copses staring lifelessly into the sky as the blood congealed in puddles beneath them.
The horrors did not cease as the second and third waves were sent into the city, as finally the forces came upon the river running through the Reiksfort, For its path was thick and sluggish as it ran with the blood of tens of thousands of people. New, wooden bridges built from the rubble of destroyed houses had been constructed and now carried the remains of the civilian populace of the city. Their desecrated corpses leaking their vital essence into the river below them.
As the hosts of the allies closed in, resistance gradually increased, as the battle drew closer and closer to the Königreichshalle, the great castle at the centre of the city. Whatever strange strategy the enemy was utilizing seemed to still prioritise keeping the commander of the whole enterprise alive. Still however, the enemies refusal to move from their positions meant that no matter how stout, or ferocious the defence they would eventually fall to their enemies' advance. The Gnolumgi pikewall advancing down one road while the Reiks Foederati pushed down others, the high throng took a third and the elves of Lauralorn a fourth.
Eventually at the very centre of the city after near an entire day since the commencement of operations both sides managed to reach the centre of the city. Where fully three hundred warriors sworn to khorne in full battle plate fought to guard the centre of the courtyard, ankle deep in blood that seemed to surge forth endlessly from its center. Here designs of the enemy were finally revealed as kneeling upon the flagstones was the pretender, still wearing his false crown. Eight naked men, coated in red, stood around him, constantly swinging blades into his exposed flesh, creating great, jagged wounds through which torrents of blood emerged, more than any human body could possibly hold, yet still the usurper lived.
Even while they fought the false king's bodyguard it was clear that the ritual was succeeding as his body began now to fall apart, flesh falling from muscle and then muscle from bone as the roar of battle continued, commanders pushing the allied forces forward as they saw doom approach. Even as his body was reduced to naught but bone the fallen king remained his bones collapsing while his skull, with twin burning flames for eyes kept above the ground by some unbending, unshakeable will. The eight men surrounding the skull now froze, captured by the spell and now met an equally gruesome fate. Their flesh bones and sinew falling away and moving toward the floating skull, their bodies used as material as the skull rose higher and higher into the air. The raw material of the cultists used as material to forge a great archway dozens of feet tall. The skull forming the keystone piece as with a sudden flash of otherworldly light the gateway to hell opened. The sounds of battle redoubling and redoubling again as a gateway to the lord of battle realm was forged, dozens of blood red daemons garbed in blackened plate and wielding great blades leapt through the wound between worlds.
Behind them, standing near as tall as the gate itself, marched a creature of malice made manifest. With armour as black as its warriors and great wings stretching forth behind it like a bloody shroud. Turning back briefly for the skull that formed its gateway, it spoke almost kindly to the tiny skull then, in a voice the rang with bloodshed and slaughter. "Little king, here, bear well Khorne's gift for you, to watch over your kingdom forever more" With that the creature conjured forth a blade of bronze flame and strode to join the slaughter, his soldiers at his feet even still exiting the portal marching with him.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Versidus swung his blade again and again at the writhing monster before him. Its runic edge lending him the strength needed to match his daemonic opponent, its own glowing and already blooded blade sparking against his as they dueled in the blasted streets. As soon as the demons had emerged, a mad bloodlust had descended even upon their own men, his sworn brothers. He himself had managed to resist the urge to land a blow against those closest to him but here and there throughout the ranks he had heard someone give in to the false call to bloodshed, who in turn had been bitterly cut down by those whom they had shared bread with just that morning. Members of the gnolumgi brotherhood, found wanting only against the most supernatural of foes.
Nearly half an hour had passed since then as the battle had come closer and closer to his ranks. The occasional half step forward of the battalions the only indication that they were perhaps still making progress against the enemy. Death hung thickly in the air though as the battle progressed, only a bare handful of the wounded being pulled back along the streets to seek medical attention elsewhere. Until at last, Garaluk, Versidus's norscan friend from the far north was cut down by the demon before him and with the streets too uneven and haphazard for pike work, Versidus had drawn his blade and buckler, ready for what would likely be the last duel of his life.
Feinting with a stab forward, his speed enhanced again by the runic plate that he wore, he managed to trick the demon into an overzealous lunge, and with a kick sent the demon sprawling for long enough to follow up with a stab of his own. The creature, unbound by the natural laws that ruled man and beast, recovered with unnatural swiftness, redirecting his own blade into little more than a shallow slice across its shoulder, a black facsimile of blood spurting from the ravaged red flesh. With a sickening grin and almost a glimmer of respect the demon rushed forward again, its blade a whir of daemonic malice.
For minutes more the battle progressed, daemonic resilience, strength and skill pitted up against dwaven artifice and human discipline, with each accumulating pits and scrapes as slight missteps were punished by the other. Beside him, Versidius could just manage to tell that his brothers were engaged in their own contests of skill, with his personal opponent seeming to relish the challenge that came with fighting the pinnacle of human fighting excellence. Then a sound from across the river made the Gnolumgi veteran wear his own matching grin, for the roar of cannon is familiar to any veteran of dwarven armies. Especially as the staccato blasts seemed to indicate that some mad artillery thane had somehow managed to emplace a full battery on the riverbank.
The effect on his foe was even greater though, as with the third boom of a cannon a great shattering could be heard, the screeching of shattering glass, bone and metal reaching into his soul as much as his ear, and instantly the bloodlust that he had ceased to consciously notice faded to a dull roar, while fatigue and sorrow crept into his mind for the first time since the portal was created. His daemonic enemy though was suddenly diminished, seeming to almost shrink before him, its blows less sure and striking with far less strength. Versidius took advantage, smashing the blade aside with his buckler and decapitating the bloodthirster with a great sweep of his runic blade, adding to its storied history.
The moment's respite gave him a moment to look around for just a moment, only for long enough to see the great daemon at the centre of the square blown backward in a tide of gore as a cannonball smashed into his chest. Then a great beast of bronze took up most of his vision as a blade was swung at his head.
What felt like moments later however as he and his neighbors attempted to push back the juggernaut, a cry came from the back that filled him with both fear and elation. "Baragunk!" went up the call for point blank bombardment and matching his brothers Versidius raised shields and fell back as quick as he could while maintaining a shield wall. While before them a sleet wall of grapeshot turned everything on the road and buildings behind it into so much twisted, bloody wreckage.
Successive blasts, each pointed a little bit further along the road culled ever more of the daemonic advance, and seeing the opportunity, the captain called "Khazukan Kazakit-ha!" The ancient war cry of the Dawi. Breaking ranks, the Gnolumgi surged forward onto their scattered foes.
Versidius raced forward as he and his kin roared the ancient call, the few daemons remaining being set upon by groups of three or four of his brothers…he had eyes only for one foe however, for climbing to his knees, the marred body of the great demon looked a wreck. Its armour rent with holes and a wing ripped off entire. It knelt in the wreckage of its gateway for a moment, before, from behind it, came a series of searing bright white beams of light, lacerating its flesh. Its form almost began to melt for a moment before with conscious effort, it seemed to solidify, and with a contemptuous flick of its blade, scattered a small party of elves that were charging from its right.
The opening was made however for Versidius and his fellows, some few of which, armed with muskets drew up and blasted the great creature in its fanged jaw causing it to rear back if but a moment, and by then the Gnolumgi brethren were upon the creature, hacking away at its enormous bulk. Yet with a great yell Versidius took a second path and sheathing his blade, made a great leap onto the beast, grasping onto the edge of the armour made by the passage of a cannonball, he hoisted himself up the creatures front while it laid waste to his fellows below with sword and flame. Pulling himself up the beast's frame in but a few motions, he finally found himself grasping the creature's gorget, and with a final yell and burst of effort, he brought forth his blade and rammed it into the creature's skull, bringing an end to the siege of the Reiksfort.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the war in the south effectively won, it was only a few months until a truly unassailable force was gathered, ready to invade the northern rebellion and see this chapter in the Reiks history closed now and forevermore. It was at this point however that those in the north seemingly finally saw the folly in their doomed endeavour and approached the allied empires with an offer of surrender. All high nobles of their realm would forfeit their lives and those of their families, except for one child below ten in each family. Who was to inherit everything, the minor nobility would also be thoroughly purged with only those who were able to prove active opposition to the spreading corruption allowed to remain intact.
Throughout the rest of the re-conquered territories enormous purges took place with any seeming trace of corruption hunted down by the inquisition in their new and ongoing quest to destroy all remnants of chaotic corruption. Resettling the depopulated towns and terraces with more trusted Brigundian stock. A fools quest, in this shattered world to hunt for all traces of chaos corruption. But the Umgi, despite their flaws are tenacious sort when the need is made clear enough. and their would be significant surprise if such a rebellion could take shape beneath their feet once more.
As for the Reiksfort however, the city would be burned to ash and what very few of its populace remained put to the sword. Perhaps in time some solution could be found and some semblance of sanity be restored for the region. For now however it sits, a reminder of the dangers that listening to the whispers in the dark can bring.
—----------------------------------------
Of course the Reik also appreciates the assistance provided by the Karaz Ankor in their hour of need and agrees that they shall abide by the treaties they signed at the beginning of the dwarfen intervention. Deeds and announcements are signed and spread across the Reik even at the great reluctance of the emperor himself agreeing that new Stancatia is considered now and in perpetuity the domain of the Stancati tribes and a treaty of friendship and goodwill is signed with them to last 99 years.
Meanwhile a far more pervasive and in depth analysis of how applying Dawi law in the human realm will function. Ultimately though it comes down to an assignment of a governor and small staff to all major human settlements who can apply the High Kings will as he sees fit inside the dwarven quarter. With those residing outside the Ankor itself being considered outlaws if they inhabit the Reik and do not identify themselves at one of these governorates. There is substantial grumbling throughout the Reik from these expatriate dwarfs, especially those who were using the human realm as a very involved method of tax evasion. Those who truly have a problem with the situation though soon simply relocate to Kaltnord, Tilea or Brettonia who have no such extraterritorial arrangements.
-------------------------------------
Of course with the final accounting completed and the Dawi returning home from their campaigns, the thanes could finally make an accounting of the losses that had been incurred throughout the campaign. In order to see their ally stabilized and peace brought once more to the Reik basin, the Dawi paid a steep price, with slightly over thirty thousand lost in the war, scattered throughout but mainly focussed on the campaign toward the reikfort itself which saw the rebellion utterly crushed once and for all.
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