Tales of War of the Rams 2025
Sigwin Rötbart
The Halberd Holds the Line - or - A Record of the Bryn Gwlad War Company at War Of The Rams XII
Others may have remembered the war differently, I can only give an account as I remembered it.
Twas the morn of the War of the Rams XII, a fateful conflict between the good kingdom of Ansteorra and the titular Ram, Glenn Abhann. The walls of Border Keep were aflutter with the sounds of archers stringing their weapons, checking their arrows and bolts, and looking out to the oncoming field.
Behind the gates, Ansteorra's shield wall stood strong. The Ironwood company of the Steppes, their numbers strong and their shields gleaming, held the center line. On the far side stood a war company I did not recognize. I stood with the Bryn Gwlad war company, our tabards of sable, and argent reminding us of the great populace who we stood for, and who loved us in return.
Amongst our number was myself, with shield newly painted and bassinet gleaming. While I had seen the fields of Pennsic, this was my first time at Border Keep, and I am glad to have arrived in time to help defend it.
To my left stood Guntar Der Barmherzig, my very good friend, who carried with him the honor of Von Halstern and the noble company of the Elephant, defending our left flank.
And to my right stood a lion of a man, Maximillian of Hellsgate. We began the war as strangers, but his steady footing and sure strikes made him into a friend I trust with my life.
Although our shields interlocked were a formidable sight, we would have been swiftly overrun without the sure hands behind us.
Geoff the Jester, clad in gear that was not his, but his mirth and excitement betrayed no fear or concern.
Sir Maelgwyn Dda, who was watching the battlefield almost as closely as he was watching his not-yet-day-old squire.
The very Baron of Bryn Gwlad himself, His Excellency Orazio d’Assisi, his halberd calm and his smile wide.
And a tenderfoot in armor, Aven, who would be hardened in the battle of the Rams as surely as any steel.
But the most impressive of all of us was our War Company Commander. Lady Rosalind Lancaster. Standing tall at our backs, she wielded the Commander's Halberd as Arthur must have once held his own blade. She stood ready, facing the door like she could see beyond its boards and into the hearts of our enemies. If her own heart contained any fear or uncertainty, her face did nothing to betray it. Our War Company had been trained by the best of teachers, and her confidence inspired the rest of us to surety.
The air grew still as the call rang out for the battle to begin. Shields shifted as the line tightened. Muscles grew taunt with anticipation.
"BRYN GWALD, FORM UP!" shouted Rosalind, her voice surely carrying up to the heavens themselves.
We did not know it at the time, but the Crown had taken to the field, spear in hand. His Majesty Creppin l'Ostriche fell in behind us, with only a subtle wink to His Landed hinting His intent. He had heard Rosalind's force of commandment, and the King had decided to put his faith in our wall. I can only guess His reasons for keeping His presence a secret, for who can truly know the minds of royals?
As though hearing something silent none of the rest of us could hear, the thunderous cry of "PREPARE TO RECEIVE!" came from Commander Rosalind, moments before the door burst open with violence.
The Ironwood company stood like a rock in the center as the chaotic hoards of the Ram spilled forth. In the center, they bore the brunt of the attention of the villain's spears, clashing and clanking, though not a man fell.
Bryn Gwlad held strong like iron, waiting for the initial passes of spears and chaos to subside, but we were given no respite! A giant that would have given Thor himself pause, eight feet tall and weighing that of three men, began a shield charge right into our lines. But he would find no victory, as the spears of the Crown, the Halberd, and the Knight cut his charge short.
The Ironwood company showed no signs of tiring, and the Ram found a wall more secure than any castle in their shields. They turned their attention elsewhere, and the next charge that came through was at least half a dozen men strong, with axes behind them poised over our heads like guillotine blades.
But again, Commander Rosalind's voice rang out, urging us to hold strong. With renewed vigor, Guntar and I pushed against the tide. We fell nearly to our knees, holding strong like the bulwark of a ship against the gale, as our spears held the forces at bay. Beside me, Maximilian stood like a stone, giving no ground. Behind him, Geoff's laugh rang out as his glaive tasted true victory for the first time.
Genn Abhann put everything into that charge. Although our bodies were strong, they were not strong enough to withstand the charge of a dozen men. Guntar and I were pushed back by the tide, nearly falling over ourselves in the chaos. Our ranks broke, bleeding a few members of their charge past the gate. For a moment, I thought that the only sound I might hear for the rest of my life was the ringing of my own helm.
But the spirit of Bryn Gwlad held true that day. Our Commander's voice, clear and true, cut through my daze. Maximilian had not broken. His Excellency Bryn Gwlad was moving like lightning, pushing back those who would continue the charge. Most noble of all, Ironwood company had closed the gap that Glenn Abhann had opened. Their swift action had saved us from further assault, and young Aven stood in front of us with two warriors of the Ram at his feet and his mace held high.
Guntar and I shot to our feet like lightning at our Commander's call. We relieved the warriors of Ironwood once more to rejoin our fellow shieldmate. What had, for just a moment, looked like the end of our valiant shield wall was only a brief moment of weakness in a granite foundation.
Truth be told, I soon after fell to a spear from underneath my shield. The point struck true, and i was unable to do anything else than watch my company continue. The good knight Maelgwyn soon followed me, an errant blade catching the edge of his helm at the same time his spear found purchase beyond the spear wall.
Battered and wounded, from the Chirurgeon's tent I watched the rest of the company fight on. I noticed we had been joined by a spearmen in Or who matched our Baron in speed. Sir Maelgwyn almost immediately recognized his King, but I confess my tired eyes did not see until after the battle. More of our number would be claimed as the minutes bore on, with young Aven and His Excellency Bryn Gwlad joining us in the chirurgeon's tent to be saved from death. There was no shame in our wounds, for the Ram had brought their very best to bear.
When finally the battle was called, the castle stood firm.
The Ironwood company had held true and good.
The brave souls who held the side entrance to the castle had not let a single Ram bleed behind our lines.
The dust settled around Maximillon, Guntar, Rosalind, and His Majesty.
In the burning Ansteorra sun, The Bryn Gwlad War Company still stood strong, having valiantly defended our castle, our king, and all of our kingdom.
