KWN.Lore The Charge of the Hellriders
An oral history from The Hellriders on their namesake charge into hell that took place in 946 DR, as gathered and transcribed by Tohathi Rohkeltrid as of 949 DR
The portal swirled and shimmered right there ahead of us. Lightning crackles and flickers of flame bursting forth from that, well, hellscape beyond the threshold. So much death and destruction had passed through into these fields. Devils by the dozens bringing their armies to bear against us. So many good folk buried. Better folk than me. So that's what it was to be, vengeance. At least for me. I bid farewell to Elturel, knowing in that moment I would never again look upon these fields shining in the setting sun's glow. I thought of my ma and pa, buried just over the hills, hoping to make them proud. I said a prayer to Helm, made my peace with death, and as The General gave a final charge, descended into Avernus.
I'll never forget the General's words. "For too long, these fiends have wreaked havoc upon your home, upon this continent, with no retaliation! We cannot stand by and allow their raids and wanton rampage to go on unabated. No, these acts of terror are an affront to the Triad. An insult to all you stand for, Riders. This portal, the conduit for so much devastation, will now be the method for our retribution! This is not vengeance, but holy judgement rendered! Now is the time. Now is the time! Muster your courage! We ride until their strongholds crumble before us! Charge!" Hell of a pep talk, ain't it?
What was hell like? What a fucking question. It was bloody shit, quite literally, now wasn't it? Soon as hooves down it was bloody awful every way you looked. The sky was like a festering wound - red, purple oozing black everywhere. Mountains like razor sharp teeth off in the distance. The river of blood, that was a right proper nightmare. And the devils. You thought the bastards they sent to the front lines were ugly? We saw their forces proper and anyone who tells you they didn't shit their pants is lying in their dirtied linens.
No, none of the Riders I went down their with would mince their words - 'twas all horrifying. By the strength of Tyr did we hold fast and press our ranks against the legions of hell. We may have been fighting on their territory, but we had the element of surprise. Flanked them while they were caught up in a skirmish with some demons, tore our way through their archers before they had much time at all to even know we were there.
Of course, ambushes never give you an advantage for long. Before we knew it, we were proper in the thick of it with those devils. But those foul monsters bleed just like anything else, and so we carved them up all the same. Took our fair share of losses along the way, but we all knew the cost when we rode out. Every man and woman knew the mission and marched out willing to die for Elturel. That's what, in the end, gave us the edge over the devils. They fought because it's their nature. We fought because it was our duty. And duty, especially to one's faith and one's community, always wins out.
"Fair share of losses" would put it lightly, I'd say to 'em. Especially when their fucking artillery showed up. Machines roaring and screaming like a hundred angry banshees. Red dust spitting up every way, the air thick with the damn chalky shit. It stuck in our mouths, got down into our lungs. Riders coughing, still swinging blades while fighting back choking tears, trying to to keep their mounts steady amidst the gods fucking know.
Once the war machines arrived, The General, I guess, realized we were about to overstay our welcome. But by Torm, what a number we had done on those devils. Sent them a message. So The General called for the return to Elturel and you didn't have to tell a soul twice. We at the frontline held as long as we could, giving the rest a chance to start the return journey, before breaking rank and moving back ourselves. Did our best to bring wounded with us, but that devilish weaponry didn't leave much left of the ones they struck down, Triad bless those fallen.
Hindsight being what it is, we probably should have made for the portal sooner than we had. By the time we got back, we found ourselves square in another front with the uh, devils, these even nastier than the first, hard as that was for me to believe when we saw them. I remember just saying another prayer and thinking, "Well, I was lucky to even have a chance at making it home." Thought to myself, "This is what I signed up for, anything else was just blessing." So, following The General's battlecry, we charged once more into their ranks with our bent blades and splintered shields, for we would not be turned away from a chance to bring the judgement those monsters deserved.
"For our homes! For your families! For our gods!" The General shouted. And so we kept fighting. Pushing through devil after devil, their numbers never seemed to dwindle no matter how much of that dark, caustic blood we spilled. Relentless, they were. Eventually, it became all to clear there was only so much punishment we could dole out before we began to lose the numbers game. Cause that's all battle really is at the end of the day, ya know. Numbers.
By the time we broke for the portal, I had lost count of the notches on my blade, the dents in my armor. I had lost my horse to a barbed spear during the second bout, so I was on foot. Tired as I was, doesn't take much more motivation than literally the spawn of hell nipping at your heels to get your legs moving in the right direction. Wasn't until we had nearly passed through the threshold we realized what was happening.
The General, some of the lietenants too, stayed behind while the rest of us made for the portal back home. Fought back more of those bastards than any of us could have handled on our own, for damned sure. As much as we would have wanted to get them home, we knew there was no way. But what a way for a follower of the Triad to go out, right? Honoring all three gods with endurance, justice, and courage. Damn near poetic, I've always said. With The General buying us that precious time to escape, we managed to get all the other survivors back through the portal and closed it behind us.
I sure never thought I'd see the sun shine again. Never realized how sweet the air tasted in Elturel 'til we returned. Collapsed we did into the soft grass, something else I'd never appreciated, catching our breath and counting our companions. Felt the warmth of the day and watched clouds drift overhead in a pristine blue sky on a summer day. I couldn't believe we'd done it, to be honest.
Once we'd recovered and taken stock of the situation, we gathered ourselves and made for the gates. Little did we know the city had gathered, overflowing in the streets. One couldn't hear near nothing over the shouting and cheering of the whole of Elturel. Hellriders they called us. They greeted us with flowers and kisses and drinks. It was overwhelming, but in the best way. We celebrated for days and days.
We took it all in, reveled in the city's collective sigh of relief with the portal closed and peace restored. But not once did we forget those we lost nor the one who stayed behind to ensure our safe return. Statues were erected, ballads composed, feasting days enacted, coat of arms drawn up. All to celebrate and memorialize The Hellriders, those of us who returned, but more importantly those of us who didn't. And so to this day, all who hear of us or step foot into the righteous city of Elturel, may know of the great deeds of courage, steadfastness, and justice through which The Hellriders earned their name.
I'll never forget the General's words. "For too long, these fiends have wreaked havoc upon your home, upon this continent, with no retaliation! We cannot stand by and allow their raids and wanton rampage to go on unabated. No, these acts of terror are an affront to the Triad. An insult to all you stand for, Riders. This portal, the conduit for so much devastation, will now be the method for our retribution! This is not vengeance, but holy judgement rendered! Now is the time. Now is the time! Muster your courage! We ride until their strongholds crumble before us! Charge!" Hell of a pep talk, ain't it?
What was hell like? What a fucking question. It was bloody shit, quite literally, now wasn't it? Soon as hooves down it was bloody awful every way you looked. The sky was like a festering wound - red, purple oozing black everywhere. Mountains like razor sharp teeth off in the distance. The river of blood, that was a right proper nightmare. And the devils. You thought the bastards they sent to the front lines were ugly? We saw their forces proper and anyone who tells you they didn't shit their pants is lying in their dirtied linens.
No, none of the Riders I went down their with would mince their words - 'twas all horrifying. By the strength of Tyr did we hold fast and press our ranks against the legions of hell. We may have been fighting on their territory, but we had the element of surprise. Flanked them while they were caught up in a skirmish with some demons, tore our way through their archers before they had much time at all to even know we were there.
Of course, ambushes never give you an advantage for long. Before we knew it, we were proper in the thick of it with those devils. But those foul monsters bleed just like anything else, and so we carved them up all the same. Took our fair share of losses along the way, but we all knew the cost when we rode out. Every man and woman knew the mission and marched out willing to die for Elturel. That's what, in the end, gave us the edge over the devils. They fought because it's their nature. We fought because it was our duty. And duty, especially to one's faith and one's community, always wins out.
"Fair share of losses" would put it lightly, I'd say to 'em. Especially when their fucking artillery showed up. Machines roaring and screaming like a hundred angry banshees. Red dust spitting up every way, the air thick with the damn chalky shit. It stuck in our mouths, got down into our lungs. Riders coughing, still swinging blades while fighting back choking tears, trying to to keep their mounts steady amidst the gods fucking know.
Once the war machines arrived, The General, I guess, realized we were about to overstay our welcome. But by Torm, what a number we had done on those devils. Sent them a message. So The General called for the return to Elturel and you didn't have to tell a soul twice. We at the frontline held as long as we could, giving the rest a chance to start the return journey, before breaking rank and moving back ourselves. Did our best to bring wounded with us, but that devilish weaponry didn't leave much left of the ones they struck down, Triad bless those fallen.
Hindsight being what it is, we probably should have made for the portal sooner than we had. By the time we got back, we found ourselves square in another front with the uh, devils, these even nastier than the first, hard as that was for me to believe when we saw them. I remember just saying another prayer and thinking, "Well, I was lucky to even have a chance at making it home." Thought to myself, "This is what I signed up for, anything else was just blessing." So, following The General's battlecry, we charged once more into their ranks with our bent blades and splintered shields, for we would not be turned away from a chance to bring the judgement those monsters deserved.
"For our homes! For your families! For our gods!" The General shouted. And so we kept fighting. Pushing through devil after devil, their numbers never seemed to dwindle no matter how much of that dark, caustic blood we spilled. Relentless, they were. Eventually, it became all to clear there was only so much punishment we could dole out before we began to lose the numbers game. Cause that's all battle really is at the end of the day, ya know. Numbers.
By the time we broke for the portal, I had lost count of the notches on my blade, the dents in my armor. I had lost my horse to a barbed spear during the second bout, so I was on foot. Tired as I was, doesn't take much more motivation than literally the spawn of hell nipping at your heels to get your legs moving in the right direction. Wasn't until we had nearly passed through the threshold we realized what was happening.
The General, some of the lietenants too, stayed behind while the rest of us made for the portal back home. Fought back more of those bastards than any of us could have handled on our own, for damned sure. As much as we would have wanted to get them home, we knew there was no way. But what a way for a follower of the Triad to go out, right? Honoring all three gods with endurance, justice, and courage. Damn near poetic, I've always said. With The General buying us that precious time to escape, we managed to get all the other survivors back through the portal and closed it behind us.
I sure never thought I'd see the sun shine again. Never realized how sweet the air tasted in Elturel 'til we returned. Collapsed we did into the soft grass, something else I'd never appreciated, catching our breath and counting our companions. Felt the warmth of the day and watched clouds drift overhead in a pristine blue sky on a summer day. I couldn't believe we'd done it, to be honest.
Once we'd recovered and taken stock of the situation, we gathered ourselves and made for the gates. Little did we know the city had gathered, overflowing in the streets. One couldn't hear near nothing over the shouting and cheering of the whole of Elturel. Hellriders they called us. They greeted us with flowers and kisses and drinks. It was overwhelming, but in the best way. We celebrated for days and days.
We took it all in, reveled in the city's collective sigh of relief with the portal closed and peace restored. But not once did we forget those we lost nor the one who stayed behind to ensure our safe return. Statues were erected, ballads composed, feasting days enacted, coat of arms drawn up. All to celebrate and memorialize The Hellriders, those of us who returned, but more importantly those of us who didn't. And so to this day, all who hear of us or step foot into the righteous city of Elturel, may know of the great deeds of courage, steadfastness, and justice through which The Hellriders earned their name.
Comments