The Collective: The Mythology of The Gleinmoor Dominion

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    • The Collective: The Mythology of The Gleinmoor Dominion

      Introduction:

      My name is Beradus. I am the leader of the Gleinmoor Dominion. It was created on the very first day of launch and we have been active on and off since then. The point of these posts is not to recruit or to gain fame, but to share with you our mythology. In it, you will learn of our creation, and the path that took the Petty Kingdom of Alexia's Dominion towards their eventual home in Gleinmoor. Please enjoy the read.




      Pictured is Beradus, First of His Name, 75th King of what is now the Gleinmoor Dominion

      Chapter 1: The First Legion (Oathbinders)

      "In her hour of twilight, with her Sun setting, on that day, the Dominion was born." - Dominion Chronicler

      The rise of the Dominion was swift, equaled only by the swiftness in which it was nearly brought to its knees. In the Old World there were tribes, duchies, kingdoms, and the beginnings of what would eventually be called Empire. On the southern coast, in the midst of rock and wind-swept stone, born out of sweat, blood, and molded from the very earth on which they sat, a power was blooming. Alexia the Young, first of her name, united various tribes, built cities that grew and spanned the coast, and conquered those too stubborn to see this new power for what it was: a dominion.

      As Alexia's political reach expanded, so too did her military might. Now she formed a professional army, one thousand soldiers strong, whose purpose was to guard the fledgling dominion from its foes no matter the distance or time required. She allied with nearby city-states, whose growing naval prowess was only matched by their love of free flowing gold and commerce. She used her newfound wealth to contact and hire The Roaving Princes, a band of mercenaries over two thousand men strong and of Bastarnaeian stock.

      As her ambitions grew, so did her enemies. A rival appeared to the north, and she was destined to conquer them as she had so many before. Marshaling her conscripts and mercenaries, she set forth. Her professional army would join within the week. Four thousand men strong, she marched across the land with reckless abandon, sparing only those who surrendered or were unable to fight. Nearing the capital, the rival met her in the field, mustering an army of seven thousand men to sally forth and crush those who dared to burn his land.

      Alexia wasn't an imbecile. She moved swiftly and called her allies to the battle. If only they could sack the undefended capital behind them, or even march on their flanks, she would stand a chance. It wasn't to be. The battle was short and swift, as her brave line of men buckled under the weight of the men sent to crush her center line, as light cavalry charged in from the flanks, surrounding them. To the last man, her army fought. To the last man, they were slaughtered. Messengers overseeing the battle raced to send the message to the army's Colonel, Isauros I. Proclaiming himself king, he retreated his army to secure his claim, which he managed effortlessly.

      Mourning the loss of his beloved leader, Isauros sought vengeance against the allies who had abandoned them in their time of need. First, he tripled the size of his army, to three thousand men it would always be. Second, he pulled every reserve that he had that could safely be pulled. Third, he built a navy. One by one, he crushed his former allies until at last, twenty years later, he alone stood victorious over all of those who had betrayed his former Queen.

      A great triumph was held in the capital city where the streets were lined with dancers and singers, and the mood was festive and celebratory. The Dominion had come into its own, and so had Isauros. Standing atop the dais in front of his men and the masses, he proclaimed:

      "The soldiers before you today have brought justice to our kingdom. From this day forth, if ever there is a person who makes to us an oath, the First Legion will always be there to make sure that their oath is binding."

      The First Legion, the Oathbinders, was born.

      End Chapter 1
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    • Chapter 2: Flash of Grey in a Storm (The Harbingers of Steel)

      "In a flash of lightning, you saw them. In the next moment, they were gone. By the next flash of lightning, so were you." - Dominion Chronicler

      Fifteen years after Isauros I's conquests, he would pass away in battle against barbarian raiders from the north. His son, Isauros II, took the throne and finished his work. A time of peace took hold, and the decades that followed saw unprecedented development within the cities of the Dominion.

      The First Legion, The Oathbinders, had grown fat and large in the eyes of their king, and Isauros II decided to split the legion before it became too bloated. It was thus, on a normal day, and the weather bright, and with the citizens carrying out their daily tasks, that the Second Legion was born. In secret, and with no name, half of the First Legion was split.

      Isauros II saw opportunity with this new legion which was not bound by any sort of code of honor. Thus, the Second Legion was sent across the Old World to act as mercenaries, an honor that Isauros II borrowed from the Roving Princes who were destroyed alongside Alexia so long ago. This, in turn, furthered the economic power of the Dominion, which brought with it new demands from its people. Ten years after their creation, the Second Legion would face their biggest test.

      A coastal city, whose name has been lost to the ages, rebelled and hired pirates and mercenaries to protect them as they established their own state on the fringes of the Dominion. Knowing only peace in his rule, Isauros II found the idea of rebellion to be... displeasing at best. With the Oathbinders scattered and providing garrison duty throughout the realm, the Second Legion was tasked with retaking the city at all costs.

      "What actually happened there was lost to history, but an oral story has been passed down for hundreds of years. The story is recounted by a mercenary guard who supposedly survived the battle and ran away. The authenticity of this story is questionable, yet we do know the outcome of the battle and the effects that it had on the Second Legion. Therefore, we have decided to include it here. The story has been edited from its original language to be more... appealing to the educated reader." - Dominion Chronicler

      It was a stormy night; the kind of night you wouldn't want to be on the wall watching for trouble. Yet, there I was, looking off into the distance, expected to see god knows what. The rumble of thunder came after bright flashes streaked across the sky, followed shortly by rain. It came slowly at first, ahead of gusting wind that nearly took us off our feet. Then, the sky fell and the rain came with it. Lightning flashed again, and the alarm sounded. The noise of men rushing could scarcely be heard over the wind and rain, with momentary periods of silence following the booming thunder.

      We watched and we watched and we saw nothing. We heard nothing. There were no torches that we could see, nor could we see too far ahead ourselves. It was comforting to know that the enemy, if he was out there, probably couldn't have attacked us that night anyways. It shouldn't have been. With one flash of lightning, I spotted movement. It was swift, but it disappeared as the light went away, replaced again with the deafening noise of thunder. Another flash, and there it was again. The ladders were on the walls before we could see them and within moments men were pouring over top of them. Our men fought bravely, but were no match for their might. The gates were opened and the soldier poured through. We made a break for the ships, but most of us didn't make it. Between the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder, we could hear their screams. Like death riding through the night, they cut down everyone in their path, cold as the steel they wore on their breasts.

      It was from this story, the legion was named. Those gods of death who wore armor of steel, their personalities all but matching the cold suits that they adorned. The Harbingers of Steel they would hence be known, and they would be called upon whenever the Dominion needed death to knock on the door of those unwilling, or unable, to see reason.

      End Chapter 2.