A Call Of Silver Answered

[Peter Chivay 2494]

 

A heavy beat of a drum reverberates through the throne-room of the Emperor, the men chanting and slamming their swords into their shields as the Emperor slowly reads the parchment presented to him.

 

"The Elves of Silver call upon old Kaedrin?!" The Emperor shouts above the roar of soldiers, pumping his gauntlet into the air.

 

As his gauntlet lifts into the air, the soldiers quiet down. Wearing a mixed amount of tabards of old Rose, Caernguard, and even Chivay bannermen. They eagerly await the word of the Emperor as the rest of the crowd quiets down. The on-lookers of the court glaring up toward the Emperor as well.

 

"We go to war."

 

A simple sentence, one that causes the halls of the throne room to echo with the cheers of men eager to get their first true taste of blood in ages. Neo-Oren would have their first true test under their new Emperor this day.

 

"Tell the nobles to raise their banners! I expect all military orders to report directly to my Lord Marshal!"

 

The Emperor begins shouting out commands, the men around him running a muck in an attempt to get organized. 

 

Oren was awoken once more.

 

 

[Time and date: Friday April 18th | 5 PM EST | All those that can attend contact Vulcus on the forums as well]

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

The Banners of House Horen will answer the call to battle

[Eddywilson2 2117]

The houses of Valles assemble to arms, coming by the Emperor's command

[aron. 427]

House Bedevere and what loyal men they have left come to arms, assembling atop Caer Rhoswyn with the forces of Valles.

[Hedonism 254]

Damien simply kneels before the Emperor Peter, speaking plainly.

 

"Our House will follow through whatever means, Your Majesty."

 

War was at their doorstep once more, and Damien was ready to prove his loyalty to the Crown.

[Altiak 1648]

The Rutherns prepare to rally the Order of Stranniks.

[AmK 322]

Oliver looks up slightly from his papers as his young ward Atticus enters his office. The boy dropped a parchment onto his desk and nods politely before leaving. Oliver takes the parchment and reads it over briefly before standing and grabbing his helmet. He yells out as he leaves the barrack offices.

"Armor up, we ride to war!"

At once the men of the Winterguard cheer as they start to equip themselves. One by one they all meet Oliver out in the courtyard of the keep. He looks over to his sergeant, who nods once all the men have rallied. The group marches out of the courtyard and towards Vekaro to rally for the battle.

 

[Avacyn 1712]

Among the banners of Valles, a select few stand out among the others. Crimson fields, emblazoned with a black raven, wings spread: The sigil of House Briarwood. Yet, at the forefront of the group, a set of unfamiliar standards catch the eye of those who look their way. Sheer white cloth, and a bright red, orange, and yellow flame. The men march on in scarlet plate, their tabards matching their banners, lead by a youth of average height, his red helmet held under one arm, adorned by two silver horns, curling like a bull's. He wears an arrogant look to his young face, though the lower half of his visage is concealed by a black cloth, leaving only his unsettlingly vibrant green eyes exposed. His blonde hair is long, loose, and well-kept, and gently blows in the slight breeze. He wears a tabard different from the rest: a dying rose, grey and black, falling to ashes as it burns in a similar fire.

"Ave Owyn." he says, coolly, and the soldiers all follow suit.

"AVE OWYN!"

 

"May the flames of purity scorch the flesh of these beasts."

[Malaise 1570]

There stood the Knight Alexander Bedell, loyal servant and brother to Harrison Briarwood. The sigil of a bright and hungry flame, purging the sin in the world, rested upon his pristine tabard. The Kaedreni youth shifted as his brother had spoken. With a blade of a cool, crimson steel raised to the sky, he chanted in near unison,

 

"Ave Owyn!"

 

"The pyre will purify them!"

 

His chanting ends as he nods to his comrades. They march to Caer Rhoswyn, preparing themselves for glorious combat.

 

[Komodo 140]

Carrion and Raevirs everywhere gather their levies to do battle!The ancient stories are told, the old folk tales passed down to this new generation. NATO IS CALLED ONCE MORE TO FIGHT FOR GOOD!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGLteEaPTgw

[Anawkin 247]

The banner of house Geminine raises above the keep of Highrock, it's members readying their arms.

[Gunner 775]

AVE TREBUCHET

[Emenzi 1069]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rZ-PyXaYxc

 

A gentle morning breeze touches the skin of Farley, a shivering feeling runs through his body as the wind touches the scar upon his face, he stands upon the keep battlements of New Huntshill, a faint smile growing upon his face as he looks out over his settlement.

 

 

He watches the young Symon argue with his cousin Erich down by the seating area, as Jakob simply watches the two with a smirk. 

Yet as peaceful as this morning could be, how peaceful every morning had been since the coronation of the emperor it all would have to come to an end.

 

As Farley departed the battlements down into the main keep, his captain Ser Daniel Baelish quicky ran up to him, handing him a letter.

A grim look on Farley's face as he crumbled the letter, a few yet important words being uttered "Rally the men.." he looks upon Daniel as he hurries off, just moments later the bells of New Huntshill begins to ring as all men loyal to Stafyr wakes up.

 

Within just a few hours the peaceful settlement was in a state of war, all men being outfitted with armor and tabards, spears were draped in Stafyr flags as the men were once again getting prepared.

 

 

Farley now wearing his set of iron armour, looked upon his men from the battlements, the young Symon now nervously walking around in leather armour together with his bow, Farley knew he could not fight but he was a better archer then most and all men must learn, Symon's brother Jakob was now wearing a set of iron armor holding sharpening his sword in a wetstone, a prideful man but no one could argue that he was strong, his eyes continued to gaze over the men as he noticed Erich surrounded by a group of soldiers as they were laughing at his stories and jokes, he smirked at the scene as he knew Erich's love for attention.

 

As he was looking over the men, his uncle Moris came up behind him tapping him on the shoulder, he looked around smiling towards him, some of his hair turning grey yet he was going to fight, he was always there for when he was needed. "The men are getting ready, Farley."

Farley nodded slightly towards him "Send a courier to his imperial majesty and the imperial marshal, inform them that the men of Stafyr is rallying to aid the high elves and will meet up with the main force." with that Moris walked away.

 

He took one last glance over the settlement, as he noticed the blue banners and the small group of men surrounding it, the men of House Amador, his vassals.

They had been loyal to him since the times of the Tarus rebellion and James Amador was more then just a loyal subject, but also a good friend and trusted advisor.

He walked into the halls of the keep, sighing slightly as he ran his fingers along the scar on his face.

And so House Stafyr was called once more, to war, once again fighting for the Empire.

[dandan1350 479]

Ser Daniel Baelish strided through the stables dressed in his green and gold tabard representing him as a knight of Stafyr, nodding to the few men of the levies as they mounted up and prepared their saddles and straps to secure their steeds. He took the reigns from the struggling stable boy as they were offered out to him, returning yet another nod of appreciation to the young lad and moving to haul himself up onto his steed, swinging his leg around and taking hold of the reins tightly within his grip.
 

“Spear.”

 

He called out, the anxious stable boy quickly handing him the banner stapled spear, a small flagged crest of Baelish drapping from it its shaft.

 

“Long have I missed combat, it is a shame I will not be allowed to spill blood as a priest of Tahariae..”

 

He shrugs slightly, ignoring the fact of having to knockout his foes within battle. He took hold of the offered spear, looking down to his shield buckled by his side and giving a steady nod as he used his free hand to snap down on the reign and drive the horse off and out of the stables. Quickly yanking back to halt the horse as he exited to face the small rallying levies of Stafyr outside in the vast plains of Huntshill.

 

“Riders, form rank, form rank!”

 

He called out as the bustling men kicked from their hearty discussions and began to take up as best a rank as cavalry can do. He smiled faintly, nodding to the front line of spearmen, banners gliding happily from the rolling winds that swept over the open plains. “

 

To war we ride, men of Stafyr. Not as marauders, nor raiders. We ride to defend those who will not withstand oppression, we ride to defend those truly with honor that would stand up against such a large foe. We stand by the side of the man who would face a giant! In the face of battle, hold fast, do not show fear to those. For we charge with our spears lowered and shields raised. Our lines will be met with a wave of red, we will not obliterate the enemy… But if they dare face our charge we shall damn well show them you do not cross the riders of Almannir!  This curse of mortality you may suffer shall not be used in vain. Instead show them the virtues replaced within your heart, show them your courage not even dwarves could muster, show more honor then the orcs ever could display! Show a reforge soul, built in the flames of the nether and washed through the creators holy light, show them your mortality is no curse!”

 

Ser Baelish kicked his heels into his steeds side, stirring it and guiding it to face out towards the direction they would march, joining up with the small front convoy of Stafyr men. Placing on his helm slowly he looked back.

 

“Archers, stay behind the wall, the rest box them.”

 

He then slammed down his visor, nodding to the Stafyr men as he joined them shrugging off a remark of how over the top his speech was.

“Even the smallest of foes could leave to one of these men’s lives lost, I would see fit they die with courage and high morale than fear.”

 

 

((Im prety proud of that speech I:))

[Hiebe 2493]

Hiebe frowns, thinking that two groups cannot go to war anymore without the other nations getting involved.