The Island: Tales of the Past

Holt

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Lost. Haunted. Abandoned. These words and more could be used to describe your new home for the foreseeable future, This....Terrible Island...

And yet, There is more than meets the eye to this accursed place. You are not the first ones to have arrived on this island via sorrow and pain, and quite likely not the last ones.

Many of these past Inhabitants are long gone, yet their stories have been etched into the Island itself, stretching far back into antiquity, Though they have never stayed for long.

Stories of Heroism, of Villainy. Of Survival and Idealism. Of those who did not make it. Like vultures to carrion, The Island calls out to the damned, and the damned fall.
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Deep inside a Barbarian's hut, It sat. Long had it lost its golden sheen, for the Barbarians knew not of its value, only that the Iron Men defended it like men possesed. Its talons had been snapped off from its perch, its standard broken from underneath it.

The Iron men were the first for a long, long time. The men of Baal came several times to trade fur for fine silk's, Until they were eaten by their trading partners. Then came the hunger, for meat was in short supply, and man was the preferred flavour. That is, Until the Iron men came. They cared not where they came from, only that they were well fed, and that was all they needed to know. The Ninth had camped for the night, their fleet smashed against the rocks awaiting repairs when they struck. It was a bloodbath. All the better for the crazed barbarians that dwelt on this isle.

And so theyre it sat, nested against a great golden shield bearing an inverted V emblazoned upon its sheen. The Legion once known as the IX Hispana was stricken from all records, for their attempt to find a route to the "Han" had ended in a full legion lost to the sea's. Never again would they venture out of known shores....

Chief Grim inscribed this stone in memory of Esbjorn and Alfr, Who sailed from Reykjavik in search of Greenland. Blown off course they landed here. Beset by Skraeling, They were lost to Loki's Spawn. All who land here are advised to turn away and forget this place, For it is cursed by dark magic's and wicked people. Nor our god's or the nailed god holds sway here.

"LAND HO!" The lookout yelled down onto the deck of the Holk below, which erupted into cheer's and jubilation. It had been a long, long time since they left Ireland. As the crew celebrated their near redemption at hand, one of the men, clad in mail and a white surcoat embellished with a red cross, Held a grim look on his face. He knew why the men celebrated, For their quest was a holy one. Not one year before, Philip IV, also called "Philip the Heretic" by his present crew, had burnt most of their order at the stake, for false charges of heresy. The memories of that night burned inside him like a bonfire, raging and threatening to swallow him whole. But, He had a holy duty to fufill first. The Cathars.

While Philip consorted with Heretics and Heathens, He searched for an answer and he found it. The Accursed Cathari, Heathens and Heretics were pulling the strings, and here they had fled too after the Albegensian Crusade. It was apparently cursed in the distant past by the heathen gods, and he only discovered its exsistance after a Cathar had fled back to europe, for apparently unspeakable evils were afoot. All refused to listen, Except for the shattered remnants of his order. After giving the woman the peace of christ, They mobilised everything they had against this threat. Zealot's, Ex- Crusader's, Poulain's and whatever remnants of his order he could muster. Everything they had was spent into this last stab in the dark at the accursed Cathari. Armenian, Bohemian, English, Frankish, Norse and Turcopole. It was a mishmash crew, but it would do. He doubted the Cathari had anything resembling an army, and theorised that a well armed, well motivated force would be enough, so long as they kept discipline.

The Holk beached against the shore with a groan, as the crashing waves gently rocked the seacraft. The cheer's died down as they set to work, bringing out the tools of war. Ancient Armor and flags were arrayed out, Swords of all makes and sizes lined up with repurposed farming equipment.

"Our timer is now Brother's!" He yelled out to his men, the young and old alike. "We will finally wipe out these accursed heathens in the name of the lord, And save our people from the servant's of Satan! DEUS VULT!"

"DEUS VULT!" The Crew cried out as they hoisted their sacred banner, and marched into the Forest, Where Cathari and Skraeling awaited them...

It's been so, so long...But their faces...Their screams....

I was but a boy when this war started, and was still a boy when it ended. They told us to leave, and head for Japan, so that the war would still continue. A foolish idea, But did not question it, and did as we were told, like Good Germans. Oh how we have paid for our hubris. First we were thrown around the atlantic like a rag doll, and then We hit that damn mine....Poor Reinhardt. I can still hear him scream when I close my eyes, For drowning is a horrific death. I only pray it was quick. We then landed on this accursed island after many days..Our Captain, He set off in search of supplies and...well...All he found was death.

They ate him, and his guard, turned them into meat puppets, Some of us went feral, and joined the Monsters in the dark, feasting on the flesh of their friends, their minds broken by this Island. They keep raiding us, taking a crewmember everytime, And everytime we hear their screams. Now...Now its down to me..And Francis...Poor Francis. He crys and whimpers when he hears them trying to break into our metal coffin...I think..I think I'll give the easy way out...To both of us...I..I dont want to die...Mother...Please...Im..Im sorry...Forgive me.
 
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Holt

Currently Gateway's Cuban Missile Crisis
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Well...The lores well and done, So I thought "Hey, Might as well lift the lid on this whole shebang." Hope you enjoyed what little was there, And While some stories may never be revealed from the Island, Here are some tales from those that came before.
 
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