Angaldis, of the House of Malgedein. Known as ‘the Executioner’ for his role in the supression of the Second Revolt of Fargorge.
For centuries, the House of Malgedein struggled for prominence with a dozen others on their small island amidst the wide open seas. Many bowed before the banner of the eclipsed sun, but so absorbed were the islanders in their own struggles that they failed to notice the changing of the winds. It swept from afar, bringing fire and death and purple cloak and blackened sword. It brought the Empire.
Stripped of their land and their power by the egalitarian foreigners, the House managed to survive, bitter as it was. Though their toil and hardships, Angaldis’ ancestors dreamed of a better tomorrow. They dreamed of regaining what was lost. The opportunity, at last, eventually presented itself.
March 18th, 1323
I was, in many ways, a peculiar lad. Lonesome and brooding, with an intense air to myself that often made the other children wary. I excelled in the public schools of the Empire, however, and upon graduation swiftly enrolled at the prestigious University of Ayrith. After several years, I graduated as a military architect, specialized in siegecraft and fortification-building. It is within this capacity that I was drafted into the military upon the outbreak of what would become known as the Second Fargorgian revolt.
The revolt, as they often do, revolved around bread. In an effort to maintain tax revenues while amply providing for himself and his own, the corrupt Governor levied harsh duties on many common goods, including cloth, leather, and food. Last year, an especially poor summer followed by an early frostfall lit the fuse, and soon the province was in open revolt. The governor and his family were dragged from their opulent mansion and publicly burnt at the stake by an enraged and desperate mob of starving people. The mansion was looted, its abundant larder emptied, and set on fire.
Of course, the Emperor (long may he reign) could not suffer such an insult idly. In early april of the this year, the fleets sailed. I, as a bright and eager young man, was ready for this great new adventure. How glorious, how exciting! War must surely be the most splendourous thing in the world.
April 10th, 1323
The past weeks have been a maelstrom of blood and mud and uneasy rest. At night, we huddle around our fires with swords and spears held close, ever watchful for enemy infiltrators. How different it should have gone! Only a few days after arrival our army stood ready to attack, fully armoured and with the trebuchets having been loaded from the ships and assembled. Their arms reached upwards in the morning light, a grim salute to the bloody day that was to come. The citizens, however, have proven much more capable than expected, and after we broke through the main walls with our trebuchets we discovered they had quickly built new walls in the cramped streets of the poor district. The assault was a massacre, and the forlorn hope assault group was butchered to the last man by murderous crossfire from windows and the ramparts of the now-breached wall. Even the children joined in, throwing stones and torches down from roofs and towers.
During the day, plumes of smoke billow in the salty wind. The air itself reeks, as if it abhors what we are doing. It smells of salt and fire and blood and the decaying remains buried under the stones of the collapsed wall. The cries of the crows are barely audible over the moaning of those who’ve been hit by the constant exchange of arrows, stones and ballista bolts.
Our camp has been reinforced with a palisade, but still raids occur every few nights. The next dawn, we will discover some poor wretch who was captured and interrogated for information. Their gibbets now line the walls, fueling the determination of the defenders but also the fires of vengeance raging in our hearts.
April 19th, 1323
Today, I went for an audience with the general. This situation simply cannot be allowed to continue. They stand on their walls, laughing and pointing! They throw cabbages at us as if to mock the ineffectiveness of our siege. I will see them all drowned in blood before this is done.
April 20th, 1323
The fool! He has rejected my suggestion, favouring a cautious approach with battering rams and siege towers. The army will attack again tomorrow, and doubtlessly it will be the same as before. How many lives has he thrown away with his decision?
April 22nd, 1323
Rather than await the next assault, the enemy sallied forth last night. Their infiltrators, faces covered with mud, killed many of our men in their sleep and set fire to the tents and much of the siege equipment. This morning, the funeral pyres stretched across the field, but I could see how their flames only fed the hatred in our hearts.
Work has already begun on my grand new project. It will reach up into the sky, ever higher, until it will be we who have the upper ground, we who get to rain down fire upon the helpless wretches below!
May 23rd, 1323
It is complete. A great wooden platform rising fifty meters into the sky, soon to be loaded with ballistae and crossbowmen. The enemy will soon discover the folly of underestimating the Imperial Army.
The trebuchets have, at my suggestion, been loaded with great balls of hay soaked in pitch and tar. They now stand ready to rain fire on the enemy in a very literal way.
Tonight we attack.
May 24th, 1323
This morning, we have smothered the fires of revolt in blood. The city is burning even now, as the screams continue to sound as the men sate their bloodlust and vindication.
In the middle of the night, I gave the order for the trebuchets to open fire. Dozens of flaming balls descended from the skies - not on the walls, but on the houses and shops beyond. Soon, a great consternation arose from behind their walls, and that is when the ballistae and crossbowmen on the bastion opened fire.
I was on there, watching, as men and women below were skewered like fish by the great and small bolts, their silhouetted forms a perfect target against the backdrop of inferno. Then our soldiers surged forward, bearing great swords and shields and siege ladders. I shifted the fire from the bastion to cover the entryways to the stretch of wall that was under attack, so as to cut off enemy reinforcements until we had established our foothold.
Then the gates were opened, and our knights were at last able to storm inside and sate their bloodlust.
Victory has been achieved over the rebels, and it is MY victory. It is MY triumph, and MY strategy that made it possible. The name of Malgedein has once again been written into the histories, written in blood and in fire.
It is at the gates of Fargorge that I have covered myself in glory. It is here that the ascent of our house will once again begin.
Soon, the eclipsed sunrise will once again be a sigil to admire, fear and envy.
Officer in the Imperial Army of Ebongrasp
The Empire of Ebongrasp
- Crescera (Overworld): Visitor
- Taurios (Nether): Visitor
- Nemisan (The End): Visitor
- Empyrean (SkyBlock): None
- Aequus (Plots): Residence
Unremarkable. Angaldis tends to favour black or red doublets emblazoned with the house sigil. His clothing is quite fine - he is clearly no craftsman. For some reason, also, he always has a goose feather tucked behind his ear.
Even when on campaign, Angaldis favours lighter armour than most Imperials. Usually, a cuirass and a helmet are his only protection, though he may wear a full harness if necessary. Those things are sweaty, heavy and cumbersome though. He’d rather not.For a weapon, he favours the slender side-sword, using one with an intricate hilt and the sun sigil wrought into the crossguard. It is more for self-defence and maintaining an appearance of nobility than for actual fighting, however, as Angaldis never had formal training in dueling or soldiering.
Intense, for lack of a better word. Angaldis applies himself to any and all tasks with the utmost concentration. In university, this made him popular with the professors. At war, it makes him a deadly siegemaster with an uncanny knack for seeing and exploiting weaknesses in the others’ fortifications. It is the contest of wits that is Angaldis’ most beloved pastime. In his free time, he busies himself with various strategic war games or treatises on subjects that have caught his interest. He also has a soft spot for poetry, often writing it in his free time. No one else can ever be permitted to read those poems, however. They are his and his alone.
His ambition is his one driving force, the other being loyalty and love towards his family and those who are close to him. A single finger lifted against any of them is reason for a lifetime of emnity.
Character traits (based on the Crusader Kings II system)
- Quick-witted, more so than most.
- Architect, as his education shows.
- Game master, in his free time.
- Diligent, in his work and studies.
- Wroth and rather short-tempered. Especially impatient with people who are slower of understanding.
- Ambitious, his main driving force.
- Cruel and vicious to those who have wronged him or his family. It is never random, however. His cruelty has meaning and purpose, and its deliberate nature makes it all the more disturbing.
- Stubborn, especially when he is convinced he is in the right.
- Siege leader, self explanatory
Intelligence and a strategic mind
Driven and diligent in his work
Impatient with other people
Lack of experience in physical combat