Battle of 13 Bells ~ Darthurus Swiftroot

Many people have asked what was the battle of 13 bells and why are people still talking about it. Why do the 505 members grin or shudder when talked about? Well let me tell you first why the battle happened.

Back when Fortunes Bend had recently been uncovered a group of Imperial soldiers found themselves stationed in Fortunes Bend assigned to the 5th battalion of the 5th legion. It was still Imperial land and many odd groups started taking an interest in the ruins uncovered. The town itself was well managed and very little had to be done within its borders with a heavy Imperial hand. This time lasted for about a year until the pact of neutrality was signed on the island of Vallia Seere. In this time Agents of the Empire came to us informing us of a delicate situation involving a rebellion against the Empire taking refuge in the lands of Volbrect. We started going on missions to take out lieutenants of this rebellion to slow its progress as it tried to build up enough power to march on Fort Firetol. On the same day the neutrality act was signed we met Genral Cestus. A standoffish man with no love for the Empire who only wanted to see the Empire Bleed. We learned why the rebellion was going on and pleaded for them to end this now and to find a peaceful solution. But they would hear nothing of it. The Empire had mistreated them and their men. The people on comfortable chairs hundreds of miles away where calling retreats, withdrawals and supply changes without listening to the leaders in the field. Battles fought and wars almost won only to be sabotaged by bureaucracy when the toll was too great letting the foe regain strength to start the fight again. The rebellion was to prove a point that the men on the field fight to see things finished not to battle for a while only to be told the lives of those lost on the path where waisted and they are not allowed to reach the finish line. The rebellion started from a group that decided to go ahead and end the conflict against orders. To push their men forward to solve the conflict. The Empire failed them by cutting off supplies to the rogue unit only making more fall in the process. The war was won but now those willing to end conflict were branded as traitors. They chose to keep fighting to prove their point that principles and peace can only be found by those willing to give everything to them. So the 505th kept fighting them. Battlefield after battlefield Battalion by Battalion in a secret war being hid from the rest of the world because no one wanted to say what it was the rebels was fighting for. The war turned when the forces of Ravin ravaged the lands the night of the reaping. The armies of Pyredown were fighting a war against a great host away from the walls of the capitol and the rebellion was camped in the Forest not 2 miles from its gates. The leader of the rebellion reached out a hand at this moment asking for peace. The city could be theirs within the night if we refused causing tons of civilian deaths. The conditions where Reasonable to us though potentially problematic. The leader was to be let go into exile not to be hunted further. His men were to receive pardons and be allowed back into service if they so wished. A monument commemorating the rebellion was to be build in Fort Firetol for all those lost in service to the Empire. The 505th agreed to the terms for the surrender of the rebels and informed the Emperor and his council of what had happened.

But this is where the battle of 13 bells comes into play. The war was over or so it would seem, However General Cestus was not satisfied with the terms and required more blood. He began the rebellion anew and started building up strength. Our contact found where he was rebuilding and also his supply lines for weapons and food to sustain an army. We were given the choice of assaulting him or taking out supplies. We chose to assault his keep to end this once and for all.
13 people walked onto this battlefield:Commander Archerus Wiecheter, Brous Wiechter, Xana Weichter, the Weichter twins, Captain Maroni, Commander Ferrin Will, Luthor, Duunlorian, Darthurus Swiftroot, Skaff, Cassandra, and Rykan. The keep had a narrow causeway leading up to the front gate where only one could stand abreast. The prayers of the Church of Garioch allowed Brother Brous to open a side passage into the main grounds that only he and two others may enter. Our battle plans were set. The main force was to assault while Brous Weichter, Commander Weichter and I flanked. After the main assault started the three of us opened the side gate to perform our flank. We ran in and were spotted quickly and made for the back of the keep to pull as many of their men from the main assault as we could. Brous was the first to fall, then the Commander. I ran to the back pulling 3-4 of Cestus’s men with me, eventually they cornered me and I pulled upon the divine power of koreel to go to spirit to travel back outside the keep to my anchor. When I returned the fight was still held on the causeway. The archers had them pinned down and the men guarding the gate were well supplied with healing and good footing to stand on. I went to them to see what they needed but it had become a resources battle. I threw what spells I had to weaken the fighters and took tally on those who had already fallen in this battle. Luthor and Duunlorian had fallen. I rejuvenated myself at our supply point and went back through the side gate. I kept assaulting the side pulling the archers and as many fighters from the main frey as I could and spiriting out when I had no place left to go. Others fell and others came back to the fight after passing through and returning by the grace of Death the battle went on longer than I can describe we were down to 9 men on the field and an officer from one of the units supporting our assault by keeping the other forces away from the keep came to rally us for one last push. General Cestus had fled and we were ready to call it a defeat but for this man. We all stood up and marched to our battle places for our final rally. I decided there was no point in pulling attention without doing some damage. I ran up through the side gate and right into one of the generals top fighters. He gave everything he had on me and I fell into darkness. I lived and died next to my brothers to fight a man who wished only to see the suffering of others. Most all of us died only to return to the fray happy to give our lives for this cause. All of our Friars pulled upon their divine connection to the Genasori to save themselves only to return to the battlefield to fight again. Yes 13 walked on but 13 bells were rung. One for each of us as a sign of our conviction and dedication to our cause. Some have laughed and said we have a habit for dying because we are not good enough but I say it is because we care enough.

Death, Magic and Fate

This is Swift’s unfinished retelling of the story of death, magic and fate. I will site sources where I can. Here goes.

There was once a time when this world was governed by the stars. The world and everything in it moved with the chorus of the heavens as our guiding stars danced across the skies. Everything had its calling and moved with an almost mechanical grace that even the watchmakers of Breus would stand in awe. This was a time before Purpose, before free will. I have been told what it feels like to live with no purpose of your own then to gain it. Simply put he lived his life by the call of Koreel, Her song led him through his days and nights there was no thought as to what else there was out there only living and moving with the cycle of days and seasons. One day he awoke and no longer was compelled by her call, he could hear her but could now forge his own path.(Anonymous but reliable source)

There was a singular moment in which the world changed. Three beings known as Death, Magic and Fate each played their parts in this earlier world. Death the ultimate destroyer(Sigmo), Fate the governor(Words from Fate 2), and Magic The creator(Swift’s speculation). But Magic erred, he was the being comprised of arcane and divine magics two halves that held within the Ichor(corruption) and reached within himself and drew from that Ichor. Magic and Fate came before Death to tell her what had happened. Death seeing the danger in what Magic had done did the one thing she knew how to do, Destroy. Fate seeing the only path from Magic’s total destruction stepped in the way to prevent total loss. In this Fate split into countless pieces and gifted his legacy to the mortals in the form of Purpose. He saw the Ichor set free by Magic and knew that only the mortals may combat it now. “I can not see this future and what they will choose to do, if they will choose to pull you from the claws of madness. All I can say is that they can. They are my final gift to you.” (Words from Fate 2)

Fate is part of us and we now control the course this world takes. No one person has this burden but all of us. We live and die in a world that does not have natural ends, Death herself can never be sure if it is our time to die and must rely on her children(Celestials) and the hope given her by Fate that we are living to make this world better.

Related Documents:
Words from Fate 1
Words from Fate 2
Words from Fate 3
Words from Fate 4
Words from Fate 5
Words from Fate 6
Pact with Death

related quotes:
Fate is Air and Fire

The Bone Witch

Injustice; Oppression;Evil: These are not just ideas. These may be challenged and fought by a true bladesman.

The Bone Witch knew a secret way into the Hall of Bones,

A twisting trail that wandered deep into the catacombs,

Where laid in jumbled piles the ivory remains,

Of emperors and heros grand, and also farmers plain.


She took from there a bushel of bones,

And from them built herself a throne,

As fell a construction as ever seen,

And sitting upon it, the most evil of queens.


From atop her morbid perch,

She drained the river and parched the earth,

The cattle went down on their knees to die,

Starvation, the bane of Severrin’s eye.


She needed no army but a vast empty land,

An expanse of nothing no life could withstand.

The Bone Witch sat in dominion undisputed,

Her great power to the throne imputed.


The former king she kept beneath her feet,

Fed him stones in place of meat,

The good man lasted until his body burst

And his bones where placed among the cursed.


His daughter had little hope of survival,

And had given up waiting for the arrival,

Of succor from some remote quarter,

Of Rues or even beyond its borders,


So enters Nemin Zahory of Anbara,

Trained well in the Dueling ways of Shiara,

Who traveled for weeks to reach the throne

Without food or water or shelter, alone.


The evil queen laughed to see such a sight,

A starving hero, a skin and bone knight.

“What a treat! A Visitor!” said she.

“Who dares to come and meet with me?”


Zahory replied “I come not to meet,

But to challenge!” and he climbed to his feet.

His good blade he pointed at the witch’s throat,

And intoned the words he knew by rote.


“I challenge you, Bone Witch, to prove your right,

To rule this land. I pitch my might

Against your powers, strong as they are,

Those who fight against you are stronger by far.”


She screeched in mirth, a terrible sound,

“But knight, you are the only one around!”

He answered “That is how it appeared,

Because I was the one who volunteered.”


“I bring the purpose of hundred to bear,

To save this land, and this maiden fair,

To destroy your throne after you fall,

And return the bones to their rightful Hall.”


An awful smile crept onto her face,

While she moved toward the knight apace,

“I know your name,” she said at last.

“You think me stupid, but alas”


“For you and for those dreaming fools,

Who thought me ignorant of dueling rules!

A Battle of blades I would surely loose…

But behold the champion I choose!”


The sky grew dark as the witch reached within,

And pulled from underneath her skin,

Every ounce of power to form a brute,

Overpowering, malevolent, mute.


His strength was equal to her cruel deeds,

Her atrocities matched his speed,

His skin was tough as her soul was callous,

And his eyes burned with all of her malice.


“My champion fights,” the Bone Witch crowed,

“And when enough of your blood has flowed,

We will sup upon your dying moan,

And all of your strength will become our own.


“We will call out in your voice to the hundred that wait,

And tell them come, that the witch met her fate,

They will arrive to find your defeat,

And I will keep them, and break them, and gorge on their meat.


This is my answer to your pitiful cause,”

She said, and without even a pause,

Zahory accepted the terms she drew,

And offered his own, should his blade be true.


“This creature born of your black heart

Will be defeated, and then depart,

To leave you with nothing, no power, no throne,

And you will wander in your empty home.


“No food will you find, no water to swallow,

No shelter to hid you, no hovel or hollow.

And though you may live for hundreds of years,

Your screaming for death will fall on deaf ears.”


The Duelmaster appeared and looked at the foes,

And said “The challenge is made, may you reap what you sow.”

He opened the field, but before it could start,

The princess stepped forth, her hand on her heart.


“Nemin Zahory,” she whispered slowly,

My crown has been taken, my station now lowly,

But I wish to give you what I can, if i might

Bestow my favor to aid in your fight.”


Her feet fell with purpose as she stepped to his side,

Gently kissed him, and thereupon died.

And the the knight’s hunger faded away

His arduous journey seemed but a day.


The circle was opened, the warriors charged in,

Virtue on one side, on the other side sin.

They clashed in the middle, a sound that rung round

The mountains and hillsides and then shook the ground.


Zahory was strong, with feet that where fast,

And the kiss had gifted him endurance to last,

But the great shadow duelist was from darkness wrought,

Did not tire, or stumble, or feel pain as they fought.


When the battle wore on for blow after blow,

The strain on the knight began to show,

Blinded with blood, his armor stained,

He knew that just one chance remained.


His cry was hoarse but his spirit was fierce,

He leveled his blade and lunged to pierce,

Through armor and hide, then go between,

To the heart of the beast who fought for the queen.


Before his blade struck as intended,

He realized, and then amended,

For such a creature would have no heart

And so he aimed for the dearest part.


Its gut, the centerpoint of greed,

That vestibule of excessive need,

Became a sheath for Zahory’s sword,

When the black beast at last was gored.


When the Anbaran’s Blade was withdrawn,

There was a rip in the belly of the spawn,

From which poured forth blood and bile,

Mixed up with arcanum vile.


Without the mass of the witch’s sin,

The brute was naught but empty skin,

A man-shaped sack of untanned leather,

The last result of a malicious endeavor.


The Bone Witch screamed, her power curtailed

Because Nemin Zahory has prevailed,

“Witch!” called the Duelmaster “Your champion has lost,

But you will bear the greater cost,


For as the terms where clearly defined,

No drink will you have, no food will you find,

You will be prisoner of this desolation,

And may your suffering have no cessation.”


When Zahory emerged from the blight, he was lauded,

Crowned with flowers, feasted, applauded,

“Nemin!” they cried, “You are victorious!

Praise be to the gods! Merciful! Glorious!”


It is said that their hero did not partake of the laughter,

He thanked them, but departed soon after,

He traveled the land from the Krugs to Shiara,

Carrying with him the princess’ tiara.


If he loved her, it was never made clear,

Bur surely that one kiss he held dear,

That strengthened the heart of one tired knight,

And commended the hero to finish the fight.