The fields of Germania were silent. Green meadows and open pastures dominated the landscape, with soaring mountains of incredible beauty to be beheld within such vibrant valleys. A babbling brook runs along gently down a gentle hill, delightfully streaming down the valley and into a nearby lake. There were no animals in this field, not man nor beast, for a loss great had occurred here that drove the likes of all life away from that spot.
The clashing of steel filled the night air. Fires raged around as the noble Goths fought for their lives against the sickening enemy warriors. Romans, Germans, all gathered to slay the Goths to their last drop of blood. The brave chieftain took a final stand as his armies fell before him, the Romans surrounding them and killing the men, capturing the women who dared to fight, and destroying the children. This chieftain sat atop his horse and saw death and blood everywhere, and knew it had come to an end. It was all over.
Now over this valley loomed a dark spirit, a force the likes of which peasantry and nobility alike did not dare enter, avoiding at all costs. Some say the slain Gothic warband still haunts the valley, and it is often reported that sounds of agony, feelings of dread, pain, and great loss, and overwhelming sadness overcome those who visit the mass grave site. Never since brave Alareiks had the Goths known such a leader so revered and remembered, and yet his name faded from history and his life put to legend. Now the valley sits, alone and silent, the shadow of death forever looming o'er.
We will not forget. We must not forget.
Ταυρική Crimea
Δόρος Doros
MCXLV Anno DominiAvina the Captive, daughter of Eboric the Boar, queen of the Tribe of Rain, had this runestone raised in memory of her people. The Tribe of Rain was birthed by an affair between the ladies Frijjo, Frawjo, and Austro. They are the chosen of Teiws as just rulers of the Ostrogoths. History shall always remember the great deeds of Eboric the Boar, who defended the Goths from encroaching Romans. His father, Thurismund the Old, restored Gothic culture and faith where the villainous Amaling clan tried to destroy it. May history forever remember the great deeds of the Tribe of Rain, and the enchanting beauty, infinite wisdom, and endless grace of Avina of Rain.
This stone was carved by Haduswinth and painted by Adalfuns.The runestone had been raised. It was a true sight of beauty, the restoration of the art of runestone. While it had been lost as Christ swept Germania in times gone by, the Gothic exile likewise eliminating the practice, it had been since restored when the Ostrogoths settled in the region known as Doros to most. Content in seeing the stone properly raised, with clear red paint outlining the text, Avina mounted her horse and left for Doros, alongside those who had aided in raising the stone. She wondered what the future would think, seeing such a stone left in the wilderness. Would it be lost? Would people centuries later find it again, its paint long faded? The future of the Gothic people was a curious one, but she preferred to think about the present. Her lifetime. She was their queen now, after all, and had to act as such. To think centuries ahead was not appropriate for now.
As she rode through a valley and up a mountainous pathway, it began to rain. She brought the hood of her cloak up, and rode a bit faster, trying to escape the small-scale wrath of the thunderer. She chuckled to herself at the idea that rain was a petty form of divine rage as she approached the city of Doros itself. The walls were impressive in stature, at least 30 feet tall atop cliffs on most sides. Arrow slits poked out, and she might've been killed in a moment if any of the guards so wished it. Instead, she looked up to them to reveal her face, and the gates to the city opened. The entrance was a large arch, like that found in Roman architecture, with Gothic-style decorative carving along the sides, mostly simple patterns. She went into the fortress-city and made her way to the castle. Simple stone housing lined the street as she approached the greatest feat of Gothic architecture known. A large castle to rival any Great Hall found in old Germania, a defensive masterpiece atop one of the cliff-faces.
As she stepped inside, she tossed her cloak aside. Taking a few moments to fix and tighten her belt, she looked around the dark room and smiled. She enjoyed storms. She couldn't explain it, but storms were simply comforting. It made being inside feel so warm and comfortable compared to a sunny day instead. Avina stepped further inside and made her way to her private quarters, speaking with a few servants about potential upcoming meals. Once inside her room, she placed her sword aside and took a while to herself to relax, unwind, and enjoy the simple things in life. There was so much to do if Gothia was to ever rise again, and so such relaxation breaks were simply healthy for the poor girl. She soon fell asleep, only wakened by the call for dinner, at which point she left to enjoy a good meal.
Sometimes, one must enjoy the simpler things.