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[Warclaim] The dawn, our dearst omen


Heero
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Amidst a darklit room the morning rays spill into the cramped confines a guest room perched along the end of the Courlandic palace, granting illumination. Curtains lay wide open, frollicing at the early breeze. The room lays as intended, an immaculate bedpost acts as the center attract whilst a simple desk sits flanked by bookshelves lining the foremost wall. The image of orderliness is shattered by the trove of empty spirits scattered like a potentially vociferous minefield, all accompanying a voluptuous woman sprawled beneath the thin linen sheets, her clothes haphazardly scattered through the room.

 

Relishing in his recent triumph of whisking a maiden from Tobias’ court an endearing gentleman, near bare and dotted with grey hairs, sits behind the provided desk, feet utilizing the desk for a stool. He props the chair to an incline, collecting the nearest container of open brandy and taking luxuriate in a smoke. Alas a simple but sturdy knock disturbs the silence, heralding a colorful yet equally unsightly phrase before granting the guest access. Promptly, a man imitating a knightly appearance strides into the bedchambers. His exterior rugged but a fiery tabard dowses his worn armor with bright crimsons and a boisterous sun. “What is it, Gwyn?” The supposed knight cöcked his head to the slumbering conquest occupying the bed. “You ought to find something else to occupy your time, Reynauld. How would-” “Jon is dead. Save your breathe, Gywn.” The smoker intercepts, cutting his companion without care to a mouthful of alcohol. The chevalier narrows his visor on the bottle stationed beside Reynauld. “You test fate everyday, Master Reynauld. It is barely dawn and you already have pillaged Tobias’ cellar.” “What is it, Gwyn?” Renyauld repeat, his attitude penetrating his attempt of enforcing restraint to contain his voice for his new found lady friend. Gywn lumbers forward, plate rattling and grinding with every step, depositing a closed fist to Reynauld’s desk, slothfully releasing a metallic object before retracting his hand.

 

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A dented pin of an aged crest laid on the corner of the desk, its paint chipping. Clearly the object was a memento dating to the past. The pin sat as a miniature shield. One side black, adorned with a white debonair design. The other, an ashen sun printed over an all-consuming black. With startling agility Reynauld lept to his feet, discarding his glass to the ground. Shattering it awakes Reynauld’s mistress. The following awoke the rest of the palace’s hall. The courtesan was casted from Reynauld’s bedchambers with a thundering echo. Her undergarments followed after, thrown from his bedside before rushing to lock the door. The woman sat within the hall, shaking a fist at the door before rushing to conceal her privates as others had unlatched their doors to observe the commotion. The woman howled, cursing untold profanities and spewing curses at Reynauld and his Savoyard heritage.

 

Back within Reynauld’s chamber he rung at Gywn’s coif, his towering frame unphased and remaining stalwart. “Where is he?! Where is the boy?!” howled Reynauld, deranged at the sight of the crest, maddened by its dire presence. “The boy is cunning.” Gwyn began calmly, maintaining a marshal appearance. “He is taking advantage of the Westerlands conflict. Carriages have been spotted making their way from Bastion. Reclaimed arms from Bastion’s casualties.” Reynauld released his grip, falling to his seat in shock. “He has assembled a platoon of brigands. A gnarly sight. The boy readies himself, Master Reynauld. He is on a warpath.” After much deliberation Reynauld turns for his wardrobe, sinking into his overcoat. “Inform Tobias that Reynauld Odran Leymore Marlowe de Savoie seeks his attention.” “Understood.” Gywn nods solemnly, taking his leave.

 

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“You have some nerve, Savoy.” scoffed Tobias Staunton, adjusting his crown as he stared with half-drooped eyes at the readily-alert Reynauld. “A certain man is demanding your head. I am feeling obliged to abide.” “Those red gems of yours shine with the blood of Aldersport. The blades that awarded you your throne were shined with Savoyard spit.” Reynauld so brazenly spoke. The palace guards shifted their weapons into a bellicose stance. Tobias whisked a hand before one could speak their piece. “You cannot continue to cling to those claims further, Savoyard. I graciously shelter you within my own home. Do not bite the hand that feeds you.” spoke Tobias, frowning with contempt to Reynauld. “Then allow me to spare your ears if you believe such a claim of arming your ilk have grown hollow over these years. I seek to settle our debts once and for all.” Tobias’ weary eyes dilate. He straightens to such a claim. “Throughout the crooked kingdoms I watched the weather change. The clouds collide on either side as nations rearrange.” he muses, flashing his pearly whites to the monarch of Courland, clearly appeased by the Savoyard’s poetic verse. “There once was a little boy, separated from his dearest uncle as fires overtook a city once known as a hallmark of Humanity. But not fires of warmth but embers of frost. Philip the Petty, heathen of Horen, threw this boy to the wind along with any who perished in his city. This boy is the esteemed son of the martyr Jon Renault.” Whispers flood the court at the mention of the legendary duke of Savoy, instilling a slurry of comments. “Silence!” boomed Tobias. “And what of his boy?” “The boy was cast to the wilds. And wilds groomed him. Jon’s blood courses through his veins. Retribution armors him. A warband has been amassed. One overlooking his former homeland. The Mardon lands.” “He is mad!” proclaimed Tobias. “And well armed.” Reynauld quickly retorts with an iconic Savoyard smirk. “Once more, I wish to settle our debts, your men dance to beat to the drum of war. Give them one last fight for their lifetime. You rival the empire of old, this is peanuts for your rule - form the Savoyard Liberation Front!  Engulf my guts in power, King Tobias. There is no pain I can feel! It is true deliverance I deal. Death to the shepards that tarnished Humanity! Like Philip the Petty I will cast the whelps of my Blackwald into the same pit that cretin lies!”

 

The court laid silence, awestruck by the audacity of the lone Savoyard. A lithe hunchback of an advisor crept to Tobias’ side, quickly beaten off by the king’s ringed hand. He rose his feet, staring down Reynauld. “I hunt wayward memories. As fragments destined to fade I clutch my blade. Wound and weave and carve and cleave we shall, Savoyard. Upon this day I award what it is you desire, the affirmation of your Savoyard Liberation Front!" Pandemonium erupted in the palace. Even Tobias’ own guards casted wide eyes of bewilderment.

 

Chortling, Reynauld stared at the sun ascending over the window high above the Staunton throne. He basked in entropy as only a true agent of chaos would.

“The dawn, our dearest omen…”

 

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WARCLAIM

   

Tier Chosen (This cannot be changed after the first warclaim is held):

First Tier War

   

Type of battle:

Skirmish

 

Date And Time:

April second, 2017 at approximately 3PM EST

 

Side A: [Initiators]

Savoyard Liberation Front lead by Reynauld de Savoie and backed by Tobias Staunton

 

Side B: [Receivers]

The Autonomous Providence of Mardon-Horen

   

Location and boundaries:

Direct Area:

https://i.gyazo.com/da39ed87ae879eae0467efe4d38de169.png

 

   

   

Terms of Victory

   

   

Upon Victory For...

   

Side A:

The Savoyard Liberation Front has the right to establish a base of operations upon the site of the skirmish and may siege the following week.

 

Side B:

After being bested in callous combat, the Savoyard Liberation Front would retreat from the bordering, requiring two weeks to recuperate before attempting a second campaign to breach the countryside.

   

   

Rules

   

- No status switching

- All LoTC Rules apply

- No TNT

-Strictly Nexus items only. The useage of lore items outside of the capabilities of the average player are forbidden.

-Only the addition of sensible defenses that are moderator approved may be added.

- Items may not be removed, starting from the posting of this warclaim.

- If Mardon does not attend, the land is forfeit to the Savoyard Liberation Front.

-No Golden Apples

- No alts or one day alts.




 

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The administration has come to a decision regarding this warclaim.

 

This warclaim has been DENIED.


There is no proper Casus Belli for you to war with Mardon.  

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