Beliae doe Moedorlent

[The Lion 736]

 

 

Mountaineering

 

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Mountaineering has been a staple of traditional Hansetian culture since the arrival of The Teutonic Order to Asulon in the mid-14th Century. A tradition that even the last known sariant of the First and Second Teutonic Order had not abandoned 300 years later. The hobby was pioneered in the surrounding high-cliffs to the south of the Teutonic Konigsburg in Aegis by the likes of Teutonic Knights, M. Azog, V. Bealcrest and D. DeNurem. This was around the mid-14th Century in the furthest reaches of the Aegisean continent. In solitude, cut-off from the rest of human society, the inventions of the Hansetians often became instant cult-classics and almost madly pursued. Notable games include; Seeing who was the bravest by jumping off high places into small pools. They played a game of seeing who was the most skilled by impromptu marksmanship challenges and arranged tournaments of climbing up and down structures the quickest. The most favourite game played by 14th Century Teutonic knights was seeing who could get OrdernMarschall M. DeNurem the most explosive with anger. Such challenges often ended in beatings. Yet, we digress from Mountaineering. 

 

At the waning years of the 14th Century, terror struck the lands of Aegis. The forces of Iblees delivered a chaotic and terrible attack at the heart of the continent. The Cloud Temple’s soul attracting node was inverted by the attack and sucked much of the surrounding area into sinkhole leading to a lightless abyss. In horror, the inhabitants of the area fled through an interdimensional portal from the Fatherland to the Motherland. It was here that the neo-Hansetians first discovered the continent of Asulon. As if by fate, OrdernMarschall M. DeNurem with the company of his right-hand, Sariant M. Azog led the Teutonic peoples to the very isolated southern tip of the Asulonian world. Lands that the Ancient Hansetians once also inhabited centuries before. Traces of their existences but mere ruins by the time of the Teutonic Resurgence to the Hansetian lands. The Kingdom of Hanseti was founded here, in the city of Dresden. Surrounded by a wall of mountains in the south, the Hansetians (particularly Sariant Kincaid) became avid Mountaineers, a tradition enjoyed by all.

To become a mountaineer, you need not apply to some guild. Simply gather the following and get out there!

Get a harness yourself to bear the power!
Tie a rope to your harness to ascend and repel!
Pick up a tool to grapple the power of the mountain!

 

A depiction of the Teutonic Order at its most powerful under the rule of Hochmeister M. DeNurem. Asulon, 1410

 

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Landmeister D. DeNurem

Landmeister D. DeNurem has been missing since 1588. Two decades have gone by since he was last seen in Mordskov. It could be said; that this man is dead.

 

He had become a wizened old soul, a lot more eccentric in the 17th Century than he was in past three centuries. No longer the Prince of Hanseti or of much relevance anymore. There were few who knew this Aegisean Elf. Fewer who ever spoke with him still lived. The friends he had left alive were able to be counted on a single hand now. Ryder being the only one to come to mind. His brother and the rest of the Teutonic Order was long gone. The remaining members of the First Holy Oren Empire where The Kingdom of Hanseti first flourished were also long dead or retired. Loneliness had driven the Elf into the arms of the newest generation of aspiring souls like so many times in the past and servitude to the rightful-Emperor resumed as usual.  A partnership was forged with a local religious order Headed by Cardinal Rothgard which increased DeNurem’s legitimacy to become a Landmeister. It was in-fact enough to please The Honest Emperor, John III. Who awarded Ser D. DeNurem with the title of Count. Granting him Lordship over a territory named in the Marian tongue as Mordskov. The Teutonic Knight used this increase of retinue as means to withdraw to hermetism in the comfortable winter mountains where he took the Marian title of Landmeister. Many architectural and design plans were made for this county’s organisation and when all seemed to be ready to launch, the late Landmeister vanished into the Mother Earth much like the Ancient Hansetians. Decades have since moved on, the man regarded only in memory. The plans to the construction of Mordskov were sold. Most of the followers lost hope after the Elder Rothgard was no more as well. Only subtle signs exist that tell anything DeNurem had ever even occurred in the thickly wooded land.
 

A depiction of Ser Darius "Lion" DeNurem sketched by the Author (who is me!)

[Lechian Lord 1027]

Titus Rothgard lets out a tear, missing the valuable mentor during his early years.

[The Lion 736]

In the Hall of the Mountain King.

I can see the light trickling above me. It looks as if it’s as far away as the heavens be. I can see the blood trickling below me. It feels as if the heavens aren’t as far away as they look. I can’t move. My legs are shattered. My body is battered. My head would be scattered across the floor if not for my helmet absorbing most of the shock. Instead my helmet fills from the heavily bleeding. I toss my helm off to stop myself from drowning in it. I can’t stop the bleeding. I can’t stop the bleeding. I can’t stop the bleeding. The pain of trying to save myself is devilishly unbearable. Un-bear-able. Unbearable. I’m done. Ruined. Finished. I lay motionless now. It’s fading. Phasing in and out. Forced to come to terms with what’s happening. I recall the memories that haven’t flooded away with the blood. BLOOD. FEAR. PRIDE. My vision is getting hazy. Hearing is getting lazy. I’m losing feeling and that feeling is crazy. I never wrote that book. I never told them what happened. I never put my name in the spotlight. I’ll probably die anonymous. I’ll die with promises. I thought I’d die walking back home from your House. I thought I’d die because these colours are standing out. Yet, now I’m laying here dying defeated by air and ignorance. A far cry from my vision of death by flair and arrogance. Death is coming to get me. It comes bounding towards me. Like all the enemies I’ve ever faced before, I raise my hand in Death’s direction and muster all the strength I inherited from the Creator. With defiant certainty that this is it, I  fire with the Marian litany, “Beliae doe Moedor Lent!” With a roaring thud, I see-

[SERVER RESTARTING]

[Dreek 1633]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.