The Nemascene Rebellion

 “Shortly after the Deathlords of Sargos were finally forced to kneel before the Emperor’s black throne, and shortly after the Emperor had parlayed an eternal pact with the Great Mother of the Akhuni, the Kingdom of Nemasca engaged in open rebellion.”

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The Talespinner tosses a handful of powder into the dwindling flames, which roar to life, and for a moment you can see a castle in the green flames.

“Nemasca, a small kingdom nearly forgotten by the rest of the world. Our people would often make the trek down Falcon Pass when the snows thawed, which often would narrow to barely being wide enough for two wagons to pass one another. The valley was filled with thick forests of oak and pine, and a handful of villages and towns were scattered through the valley. I remember most of the people lived a simple life, and the minor nobles were always hungry for news from afar and clothing which was the latest fashion from anywhere else.”

His bony fingers reach for his old wooden cup, and he takes a long drink, before wiping a few drops from his long beard and then he continues.

“It is said that when the Empire marched across the world, only a lone messenger was sent to speak with the Nemascene King, Mallor. The messenger came bearing the gifts of a wooden box and an Imperial banner. It is said that the head of another king lay within the box, a warning of things to come if Nemesca refused to submit.”

A single afternoon of debate between the messenger and King Mallor, and the messenger was off again. No army would need to traverse the pass nor invade the valley, as the King accepted Imperial rule without a fight.”

The old man slowly raises a single finger as he speaks.

“The king was wise, he need not risk his people enduring the horrors of war, and all he had to do was kneel and pay a tax collector every year. However, King Mallor was also old, with the vigor of youth having left him long ago, and he spent much of his time sipping brandy within his hall warmed by a roaring hearth. His son had perished years before, and his grandson was slated to wear the crown before too long.”

His grandson, Durek, was filled with the fire of youth, a fire that had not been tempered by age or experience. Durek was known to be quick to anger, and in one instance had thrown a member of his personal guard from a parapet for a perceived insult. Some of the nobles of Nemesca whispered that Mallor only clung to life in hopes that Durek would temper his rage over time.”

The Talespinner sighs and shifts in his chair.

“Sadly, time is something King Mallor did not have. After a brutal winter, the cold crept into his bones, leaving him bedridden with a terrible cough, and not long after the crown was passed to Durek.

Within this same hall which once was a cozy place for Mallor to host his lords and ladies who needed advice or assistance, Durek stirred the fires of rebellion among young nobles.

Over a long winter of isolation, the young king roused the ire in his fellow nobles. He cemented the idea that Nemasca should remain independent and that the knights and soldiers of the realm could hold the winding pass against any foreign army, and that any taxation upon the kingdom was a slight that could not be tolerated.

In the spring, when the Imperial Tax Collector arrived with a small cadre of bodyguards, King Durek had them executed. To send a message to the Empire, he had their bodies impaled on spikes at the entrance to Falcon Pass, in full view of any that would enter Nemesca. The bodies remained there until the following year, when the message was answered.”

He pauses, and holds his wooden cup in a raised hand, and a short ginger haired woman wearing bright clothes rushes over, her steps punctuated by the ringing of dozens of small bells. She pours wine from a pitcher into his cup, and the old man gives her a nod in thanks before he takes a drink.

Clearing his throat, he continues.

“Leading an entire Imperial Legion was the Iron Thorned Rose, her dull grey armor still marred from the fight with the undead leviathan in the campaign against Sargos. Her troops bore her banners of crimson and grey, many of them veterans who had followed her through the northern battles.

The Legion met no resistance until they were far into Falcon Pass. There they encountered the forces mustered by King Durek. A line of shields and lances prevented the Legion from going further, and the general bid them to turn about and leave the pass.”

The old man once again shakes his head in disappointment. 

“The Iron Thorned Rose refused. Instead she had her Legion form ranks, and they crashed upon the defenders of the pass like a tide of steel. The ground was soaked in blood from soldiers of both sides, until finally the defenders broke ranks and attempted to flee. They were cut down from behind, and their bodies left to rot. A few were allowed to escape into the valley, while the Legion marched into the valley. Those that offered no resistance were left unharmed, but those few that dared to raise arms against the Legion were swiftly cut down, and their bodies left laying on the ground.

As the Imperial Legion swept into the valley, King Durek and many nobles fled to Castle Narrath

Perched high on the cliffside, with only one passage in or out. Believing themselves invincible within the security of thick walls and a heavy gate, the nobles waited for the siege to come.

When the Imperials arrived at the castle, they fashioned a shielded canopy that was carried by men and horses up to the gate. A similar tactic often protects a battering ram, and King Durek dispatched builders to barricade and reinforce the massive oaken timbers of the gate.”

A wry smile crosses the Talespinners wrinkled face. He cracks his old knobby knuckles and takes a drink.

“However, no attempt was made to batter the gate down. After a day of fortification without the expected sounds, King Durek was puzzled. A second and a third canopy arrived the next day, giving the assaulting force respite from the drizzle of arrows fired from the battlements. Over the next few days, more canopies arrived, forming a snaking fortification which concealed and protected the assaulting force.

Upon the seventh day, the canopies withdrew, revealing that the gate had been bricked up from the outside. Along with the fortifications and internal barricade, the only passage into or out of Castle Narrath had been thoroughly sealed shut.”

The Talespinner interlaces his fingers, and shakes his hands, to illustrate the sealed gate.

“Weeks passed, and the larders of Castle Narrath began to dwindle, as the nobles and soldiers within were in greater number than what the castle stores accounted for. Rationing set the nobles and soldiers against one another, as many nobles believed themselves to be above such restrictions. Violence began to break out more and more often as food slowly disappeared.

Finally, after nearly three months, no more sounds could be heard from the other side of the walls. The Iron Thorned Rose gathered her forces and left the mountain pass. Messengers were dispatched to each town within the valley, delivering a proclamation that Nemesca was no more a sovereign nation, but instead was now a vassal state of Athadia. As the majority of noble houses which had once ruled over the valley had met their fate behind the walls of Castle Narrath, none dared to challenge the Imperial decree.”

The Talespinner leans far forward in his chair, looking out over those gathered around the fire.

“It is said that those within the castle began to feast on rats, horses, and finally stooped to feasting on one another rather than succumb to starvation. Such horror drove all those within to utter madness, and the only things that dwell within the walls of Castle Narrath are deranged spirits, hungry for flesh.”