Order Of The White Rose

[wealthypiano 394]

Mathus Oftsea places his hands on his hips as he peers all the way to the top of the keep, Krak du Roswhen

"I've come quite the ways. Seen many things, I have"

He begins nodding as he moves one hand to his chin, scratching his stubble of a beard as he nods

"Learned so damn much, more than any scholar could've in 10 years. I know that because I've done it."

He peers over to the small, scrawny, robed teenage boy

"And so have you" He adds

Patrick Toldfir smiles nervously, scratching his head

"So,you learned by fighting?"

Mathus lets out a bellowed laugh

"No, but by the manner in which led up to them. you were raised the same way as I. I suspect you'll learn soon enough. And I'm sure I'll finish up your knowledgable teachings, that being mostly mathematics and politics. Toov explaining Oren religion when he has the time."

Patrick nods, a much truer smile appearing on his face

"So, I'm gonna be a warrior too?"

Mathus smiles, chuckling a bit

"No, small one, that is not how I like to consider ourselves. More of the....."

Mathus ponders a bit, his smile fades, scratching his chin again, entranced in deep though, after a few seconds, he responds

"We're keepers of the good. We burn the heretics and slay the rebels. Keeping the peace, by destroying those whom disturb it."

Patrick nods, tossing his new robes up in the air lightly, frowning at how ragged they are, placing his finger through one of the holes, observing the battle damage

"I won't.....have to wear these too much...will I?"

Mathus gives an affirmative nod, blinking heavily

"Only so the Chivays get a good sense of you. And make sure you don't mutter anything of whom taught you. Filthy dark elves. They'll judge you for accepting a damned elf like that. She is fine, but they haven't proved that to them yet. Only me and you. Anyways, you best go find your bed in the barracks, I have notes to take. You'll have to prove yourself for the barons tomorrow."

Patrick nods, quickly jogging to the barracks.

Mathus pulls out a small journal, writing a quick paragraph down

" I am not the man I once was. Why must I give such disrespect to those whom have a simple disagreement with me? Perhaps, it is the influence of the Chivays. Or the journal and will of my dead brother. And that boys father. I cannot help but feel so much sorrow. I suspect the upcoming weeks will be filled the same, and I shall feel the same. And it is no one's fault but my own."

Mathus finishes writing, sighing and he closes the journal, walking upstairs.

[Solaba 144]

[[update tha roster sheumgal like you said half a month ago.

]]

[Peter Chivay 2492]

[[update tha roster sheumgal like you said half a month ago.

]]

We've been getting people left and right, need to do a massive role call to figure out all the MC names. Will be updated soon.

[Peter Chivay 2492]

[[ ROSTER FINALLY UPDATED

[Solaba 144]

*Slams his fist on the dining table*

"DAMN YOU!"

[[Guess I missed the call? :D]]

[Stevie 1598]

*Slams his fist on the dining table* "DAMN YOU!"[[Guess I missed the call? :D]]

[[ Well, funny you mentioned that. The Order of the White Rose now has an official channel on Lord of the Craft's official teamspeak. To enter, you will need to be a member of the Order, of course, and little exception will be held. This is a step in the right direction for us, and we can be frequently contacted over teamspeak, should all other options be exhausted. This is sure to promote our cohesion and organization within the Order, as well as us all being able to get on and just talk, so I encourage all our current members to hop in there! :grin:

And if you are lacking the password, feel free to PM myself, Viscen or Sheumgal for such. ]]

[firespirit44 1279]

From deep within the Keep, coming from below the stairs, you hear a faint chant, with a orchestra of clink-a-clanking with a bang-a-banging

Hooooo~ The mighty bellows blow~

To caverns deep~ Chimes of hammers rhyme~

Furnace roaring in the night~ For all of timeee~

The Fire was Red~ its Flaming Spread~

The metal like stars~ Blazed with light~

Over and over, the man chants as the hammer falls unto the anvil, making a resounding crash. Brown hair streaked with grey, the embers of the forge give his rugged face a nice orange tan. Brown eyes twinkling, as he concentrates on smaller, more precise strokes of the hammer.

He grunts, stopping the song and music as he lays the sword to cool in the water. With a satisfied look, he takes the unfinished sword and starts sharpening it on the whetstone, humming a cheery tune as he sharpens the edge. Finishing the sword off with some strips of wood and leather, bound to make the hilt.

Looking over to the new recruits waiting patiently at the side, he grins and hands the lad a standard issued White Rose sword. A long sword with a brown hilt, a Rose carved onto the butt of the hilt.

"I'm Arkus, son of Farrier. Quartermaster of de White Rose. Ye need any smithing done, ye come ta me. And dont let me see ye drop dat sword, or I'll pick it up and shove it in yer arse."

[LordOctopus 8]

((Er, sheumgal, can you send me details on how to get to HQ from Ager? A skin would also help.))

[Peter Chivay 2492]

((Er, sheumgal, can you send me details on how to get to HQ from Ager? A skin would also help.))

Sorry, I've been really inattentive due to the server being down.

I'll PM you tomorrow with all the details and hopefully a skin as well.

Till then, my friend.

[LordOctopus 8]

Thanks! Do you need my current skin as reference?

[Lym 849]

White Rose <--- Click.

Carry the name with pride and honor, don't stain it ;)

[Esterlen 4462]

It's also a Finnish knightly order.

[Solaba 144]

White Rose <--- Click.

Carry the name with pride and honor, don't stain it ;)

Think this is a tea partay or something? We are bloody knights for christ's sake, not the local chess club.

[Chaqery 419]

-And aye. It's also a Finnish knightly order. There are lots of other influences to our Rose as well. The non-violent resistance in Nazi Germany being far from them.

[Urahra 5359]

Before her marriage, Tanith was used to being alone. She lived her life in a state of serene detachment, never growing close to any of the people she found herself in the service of. None of her masters offered her anything beyond the simple relationship of a boss to his employee. Tanith never expected anything greater. The cloud of darkness inside her head was hers alone to bear. The concept of "friendship" seemed vague and distant, a theory rather than a fact. No one ever came close enough to pierce her gloom. Even if they wanted to get close, she wouldn't let them.

That was how she approached the White Rose job. Their keep was filthy. They needed a maid. Tanith could cook and clean. She had a service they desired and that was that. It was exactly the same as every job she had ever worked.

Her quiet gloom and aloneness, the serene isolation she had always lived in, wasn't meant to last, though. He somehow tore past it - like a blazing light through a cloud of smog. He loved her immediately, reaching his hand out to pull her out of her darkness. And she loved him too. They doted on each other. She could remember all the times he would come into her tiny kitchen, seating himself at the small table across from her stove, for the express purpose of watching her while she worked. His attention and affection fed a need within her, a need she'd never known she had. Nothing made her happier than to be close to him, to bask in the warmth of his affection.

When he asked her to marry him, of course she said yes. Aglow with his tenderness and love, she imagined her happiness stretching on forever. Before meeting him, she'd imagined a dark and quiet life for herself. Maybe, with enough money, she'd buy her own little farm for one and live in peace and isolation til she died. But now their future, a future together, seemed to sparkle with promise. Perhaps her logical side warned her that no love lasted forever -- sometimes it didn't even last for a lifetime -- but she paid it no heed.

The White Rose moved, then, shortly after their union. Krak du Rhoswen, with its majestic grey walls and cloud-wreathed towers, seemed to be the physical embodiment of her promising future together with him. Swiftly, though, things began to change again. Knighthood, the Inquisition, responsibilities heaped upon his capable shoulders.  Yes, she felt proud. At last the world knew of his glorious light, the light that had ripped Tanith so abruptly from her own, personal darkness.

She struggled to keep up with him. She taught herself to read, taught herself some simple magical spells. She begged him to let her help with the Inquisition, begged him to teach her to fight. Anything she needed to do to stay by his side, she would do it -- without question. Too many nights, she had to sleep in their big, empty bed while he was out fulfilling the tasks thrust upon him from above. Too many days passed without catching a single glimpse of the man she so passionately loved. An entire year of her marriage slipped by without her seeing him -- he was away, spending time among the Emperor's court. The anniversary she spent alone, while he rubbed elbows with royalty, was the bitterest night of her life.

The gloom she had lived in all her life, that quiet, isolating darkness, came rushing back. For the first time, the loneliness hurt. Before him, being alone was a mere fact of her existence, as natural as breathing. Now, it was a lack. It hurt the way losing a hand might. His light felt so far off.

She felt the crushing loneliness assuaged, slightly, by the other men of the White Rose. His love had opened her heart to the possibility of friendship. She began to love the other men too, though in a different way. Even Thomas Chivay, whose hate and intolerance had dogged her since she joined the Rose, had finally warmed up to her. But that came crashing down too, all too suddenly. 

"Witch!"

She hadn't meant to hurt the boy. The ice bolt was meant to freeze him in place long enough for her to reclaim her glasses. He had taken them as part of some childish prank, rendering her helpless and blind til he returned them. Thomas and Erland chuckled while the little boy taunted her with riddles. In her frustration, exacerbated by her bleak loneliness, she flung a spell at the child's feet. Even if she couldn't see Thomas's face, she heard the disgust in his voice. Their friendship, destroyed by a single spell. Even after she'd begged the child's forgiveness, bandaging his foot and waiting on him in bed, she could still feel the word rattling around inside her head.

Witch.

Witch.

Witch.

In the darkness of her small kitchen, she dug a steak knife into her wrist. The pain of the cut seemed only a sliver of the pain inside her chest. Detached from her body, she watched herself inscribe her feelings on the wall. She didn't truly feel the pain of the knife biting into her flesh. She didn't feel the bitter tears streaming down her cheeks. 

She walked through the keep as if in a trance, painting one word over and over again on the wall:

"Lonely"

This was what these bleak stone walls represented. Not promise. Loneliness.

Later, she bound her self-inflicted wounds shut and went out to tend her gardens. The idea that someone would see her writing, that she'd eventually have to clean it off the wall herself, didn't occur to her. And when the little girl, Mathus's daughter, asked her what was wrong, she smiled and said:

"Nothing."