Letter from the Front: Ash-stained Terror

A letter written from Jerrik, an Aletheian footsoldier, to his beloved Amelia, in the midst of a vicious war between the Aletheian Empire, The Medimian Empire, Terenholt, and Ordan.
The contents, plus accounts from high-ranking members of the Aletheian military, were enough to spur further action by the self-proclaimed Empire of Light - namely, the mobilisation of multiple squadrons of divine warriors, and the transport of a large number of forces from the Empire's southern reaches to the battlefield that Terenholt had become.

Purpose

This letter was found in an Aletheian army camp at the end of a particularly brutal day. The signatory, one 'Jerrik', has been identified as a former soldier for the Aletheian Empire, who had perished in the fighting earlier that day. It has been returned to the Empire's capital to pass on the crucial information contained within, and to function as a solemn reminder to the people of the Aletheian Empire.

Historical Details

Background

In the winter of 5622 heading into 5623, The Medimian Empire declared war on Terenholt and the Aletheian Empire with an invasion of Terenholt's land, intent on pressing through to the opposing Empire. Ordan, never appreciative of war efforts by its doorstep, joined the war to prevent any forces from heading its way. As spring approached, Mount Elendûr was provoked into erupting thanks to the actions of Riven and The Lost Ones in Vaermyrhel - serving to fill the sky with ash for many miles around, turning the sky above the battlefield blood-red. The Medimian Empire, historically sworn to the Lord of Hell, Asmodeus, used this opportunity to call forth their Amethystine Regiment for the first time in this war, wielding dark arts of conjuration and necromancy against the other three nations in an unexpected attack.

Read the Document

Letter from the Front: Ash-stained Terror

Dearest Amelia,
This war is a hell unlike any I've ever seen before. It seemed normal, at first - Ordanian soldiers rushing to join the fray, Terenholt's citizens fleeing for safety, and the Medimians falling with bloodthirsty aggression on any they saw as an enemy. As normal as that is for war, at least.
It... it didn't stay that way. Oh gods, I wish it had stayed. The pain and death that shadows an ordinary battlefield is nowhere near as wretched and wicked as this! Dark clouds of Elendur's ash clouded the sky, and under the blood-red sun, the enemy changed. In that moment, we were not fighting for Terenholt's survival and Aletheia's freedom. We, united across all three nations, were fighting on the wastelands of Avernus, our blades near-useless against the beasts of Hell that Medimia had unleashed.
If their hellspawn had been the last of it, we could at least have a chance at victory. But we'd forgotten the important part. What do they whisper about near the borders, love? Did you ever hear the song the kids sing near the borders? "Butcher, baker, soldier, sailor - rule your life til meet your maker! Wizard, magus, arc'nist, mage - take you out and fry your brain!" Turns out, we were closer than we ever thought. If we hadn't had our own divine forces there, I wouldn't be writing this now. The devils carved through the frontlines leaving swathes of bodies in their wake, and figures in purple robes stepped forward and brought them back. They fought us with our own, twisting our dead into weapons as the ash rained down, getting in everyone's eyes and adding to the chaos.
Truth be told, I don't know how we'll win this. The Ords and Holts have set up a temporary truce to deal with whatever the fuck it is the Meds are using, and I heard the captain talking about bringing in more from Solariste. I'm no paladin, though. A lot of us are... scared. We ain't got the power to stop magic or hellspawn, not easily. But if we fail, Aletheia's in more trouble than they know. So we won't fail.
Whatever the case, I'm going to keep fighting. For you. I know you're watching, my Amy, from wherever Sarenrae guided you when they took you from me all those years back. If I'm to die, I'll do it with glory. They won't take my soul, and they damn well won't stop our men in the end - whatever it takes, we'll get over this fear.
The land may be dark and covered in the ashes of hellfire, but we'll remind all of these bastards why our Empire has been blessed by the heavens. For Aletheia, and for our lovers and losses. I'll meet you in the gardens of Nirvana before this is over, for certain, but my sacrifice will not be for naught.
I love you, Amy.
Yours eternally,
Jerrik

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Type

Text, Letter

Medium

Paper

Authoring Date

Early 5623