[Ansteorra] War Story

[Craig Shupee']

To the guarded and rumor-hungry reader I bring you word of warfare and 
hostilities from the far reaches of our Known World.

My words may surprise you when you listen to the conclusion of my travels. 
But every remark is truth. And as incredible as they may appear, they are 
genuine. Still, I fear that you may be placed in much the same circumstances 
in your own travels and I feel it is my obligation to caution you of mine 
own experiences.

I set forth to discover the realm beyond the boundaries of our Kingdom with 
my lady, the fair and charming Elin the Timid, and our agreeable and 
delightful companion, Elizabeth Seale. Our hope was to meet friends of old 
upon the road and find a place where we could settle our belongings and 
enjoy the hinterland and perhaps have an occasion to learn from the locals 
different arts and skills or even taste the cuisine of other cultures.

As our luck would have it we came upon a quiet land full of shade trees with 
water aplenty that was tucked away next to a most beautiful lake. Our 
friends from the East Kingdom had in fact saved us a place for our pavilion 
and we quickly settled in for a well earned respite.

And here is where my tale takes a turn for the worse. For without our 
knowledge we had just placed our lives in the most terrible of 
circumstances. Where we had thought that the Kingdom of Aethelmearc would be 
able to give us some final rest but instead became the home of fear and 
sustained apprehension.

Elizabeth woke in time to receive messages from a mere page boy announcing 
that war had just been declared. The Kingdoms of the East and the Middle had 
met directly in our vicinity and they were well on their way to battle. As 
the three of us emerged from our pavilion we suddenly saw the signs of war 
around us – and it struck each one of us to the core for the peril we were 
suddenly in.

We were constantly in fear that a stray arrow might find us or that we would 
suddenly be found in the center of a heated melee. Just a short day before 
we were cheerful travelers enjoying a quiet sojourn. Now we were the 
refugees of a dramatic war between two great powers bent on nothing other 
than destruction.

Readers, you can well know our fear and alarm that we would now have to 
contend for our very safety amongst such horrifying circumstances! The signs 
of war were everywhere. As we sat beside our belongs fearing what was beyond 
the hills we saw such inconceivable sights.
Our mornings were broken with the sounds of booming cannons announcing 
further battles. Through the walls of our pavilion we could hear troops 
marching off to war – their songs full of brave words and tellings of the 
bold deeds they hoped to achieve while their armor clanked and their battle 
standards waved in the wind. Yet you could still find that waiver of 
apprehension and uncertainty for not knowing if they would be able to return 
home to their friends and families. And sadly … it was not an uncommon sight 
for us to see some of these men to come walking home alone … their 
companions lost in the fray. They wore their armor now haphazardly and often 
torn and stained with the sweat and blood of countless hours of heated 
combat.

But worse for us to witness were the other refugees – the real victims of 
this terrible time. Women, now alone, their husbands left lying on the field 
as testament to the ravages of these two Kingdoms … and no man to care for 
them, would wander aimlessly past us. Their only hope vanished. Children too 
… would call out for just any amount of money they might be able to earn now 
that they could find no sustenance at home. The meager young were trying as 
hard as they might to keep the lives their parents hard fought so hard to 
protect. It was truly heart wrenching.

When we did venture forth to see what the war had done to the lands which 
had been so peaceful such a short time before … and we only found more 
devastation. We made a long tiresome climb up the steepest slope you have 
seen and came upon just fields of displaced folk. They were so desperate for 
a place to camp that they were forced to set up in the barran empty fields 
at the top of the hill where there were absolutely no trees for shade or 
water to cool the heat of the day. It was a pitiful conditions these people 
were forced to live in all clustered together without room to enjoy 
themselves. But as luck would have it we did find good brothers and sisters 
of Ansteorra – and I tell you that you too would be proud of the aid our 
populous was prepared to give to the refugees of the war. They had banded 
together to provide food and drink for any who would come to their doors and 
simple ask for substance. As I watched, more and more of the helpless and 
downtrodden came to our people. It was truly positive experience, buried in 
such instants of horror, to witness how compassionate your friends can be to 
others in need.

Eventually though, as the night fell, we knew that we would have to make it 
back to our camp before it was too late. We left our friends and made our 
way back though the jumble of displaced families and warriors when we came 
upon a cluster of merchants and vendors. It was evident too that they were 
being affected by the war for they were open late into the hours of 
darkness. It seemed as though they were desperate to sell their wares and 
were offering their merchandice at cut rate trades. Hawkers were in the 
streets begging those still able to walk from the heat of the war to buy 
what they may. The push of people on our way home was hard to navigate. At 
times we were even stopped in our tracks by street performers breathing fire 
and musicians piping tunes of wild excitement and with the fever of imminent 
disaster. You too would fear for your life having been placed in the same 
position.

There was never a moment of respite. Even that night as we eventually made 
it back to our camp – after numerous wrong turns and stumbles down cliffs – 
the drums of war were again beating. Their rhythm was constant and sang out 
across the waters of our lake warning us that we might be the next victims 
with the rising of the sun. It was unsettling to fall asleep with nothing 
but thin canvas walls blocking out the rest of the war and the struggle to 
stay sane surrounded by those conditions. And always … the beating of the 
drums.

We woke knowing that it was time to return to our own Kingdom. To return to 
our friends and families and the safety of our own armies. As quickly as we 
could we broke camp and stowed away our belongings and set to the long 
journey back to Ansteorra.

And so reader, I hope you have taken these words to mind. Take care that you 
too are not found in the desolation of war grounds. I know as incredible as 
they sound you may be reluctant to believe that these events could really 
come to pass. But we did survive them.

Your often erstwhile travel companion and friend,
~philip white