Order Of The White Rose

[Peter Chivay 2492]

While searching for a quick meal, after a rough training session, Peter slowly walks into the kitchen. With his gauntlet on his neck, he slowly begins to massage it. Hoping to remove the former pain of sparring. Cracking his neck to the left, he gets a faint glimpse of the writing before double taking.

He abruptly states, "Wot' the..." Before turning his full body to look at the word that was inscribed in blood.

His eyes narrow onto the large lettering, taking in each letter as he reads. L. O. N. E. L. Y. He mouths to himself slowly, trying to contemplate what he is currently looking at. That is before it finally clicks.

The Knight Commander lets out an strong huff after finally putting two and two together. Gripping up a mug of coco drink he slowly walks out of the kitchen, formulating his next move.

Just before stepping out of the kitchen, Peter lets out a snide chuckle. He states, "Jus' anutter' day fur deh' Roses..." Taking a small sip and lifting his gauntlet to massage his neck once more.

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

[LordOctopus 8]

Hey, why would you lock me out of the Krak? You built like 10 barricaded, locked gates on the path! I can't even get close.

[Urahra 5359]

Tanith kept her sewing kit in a small box that she kept stored beneath her bed. The small metal box, lined with supple brown leather, housed not only her needles and spools of thread, but a small pair of sewing scissors. One evening, late at night, at least two weeks after her incident, Tanith stooped and slid the sewing kit out from under her bed. Digging through the spools of red, green, and white thread, she withdrew her sewing scissors and inspected the blades. They shone with a dull sort of light, reflecting the single torch that illuminated the dark tower bedroom. Outside, the waves crashed softly against the stone walls of Krak du Rhoswen. Tanith glanced down at the white cloth bandages tied tightly around her wrists. With a small snip, she cut the bandages. The cloth, still slightly bloody from the last time she changed it, tumbled to the floor.

Two long, straight cuts marred the smooth, grey interior of her forearm. The cuts began a few inches short of her wrist and ran all the way up to the inside of her elbow. The skin puckered a bit around the long scabs, looking a few shades paler than the rest. Very lightly, Tanith brushed her fingers over one of the cuts, flinching slightly at the touch. They still stung. There were no healers she knew of in the Holy Lands, besides her husband, and he was still away. Too timid to take the long journey to the Cloud Temple by herself, Tanith bore the pain in silence. She quietly regretted having done it every time she had to lift something slightly heavy or submerge her forearms in hot, soapy dishwater. The wounds stung bitterly and twinged with pain at every small movement. Finally, though, they'd begun to heal.

Reaching up, Tanith touched her collarbone. Beneath her loose, white nightgown, she could feel the half dozen or so small scars that marred the skin just above her right breast. She could recall the night she gave herself those scars. Many years ago, in the service of her first master's son, something bad had happened. After bashing her head with a frying pan, the master's son had abused her body while she lay unconscious. Tanith could remember how she'd fallen into a frantic state after regaining consciousness, her whole body aching from the beating. She could remember how, in blind, animal desperation, she'd clawed at her skin as if to somehow cut herself free and escape from the pain. She'd shown the scars beneath her collarbone to Thomas when he asked her if she'd ever purposefully hurt herself before. Between the scratch marks on her collar and the slits down her arms, she would now have two scars that were self-inflicted. Both times, she'd fallen into a sort of trance, wounding herself out of blind, animal emotion.

It hurt too much.

"Not again," she said to herself. Putting the scissors back in her sewing kit, she latched the box shut and slid it back beneath the bed. She glanced toward the empty bed, big enough to accommodate an eight foot tall, muscular man and his lanky elf wife. Not a few days ago, she'd spent an entire evening downstairs talking with Thomas, telling him the how's and why's of what she had done. When he ordered her to go to her tower, she flinched, as if some sixth sense told her about the tongue-lashing she was about to receive. But no, Thomas's gentle tone and concerned expression took her by surprise. Having made a mess and terrified half the men in the keep, she expected to be lectured mercilessly, told to control herself, told to man up and swallow her feelings. Thomas's patience and kindness took her wholly by surprise.

The patience and kindness of all the men in the keep -- Thomas, Ford, and everyone -- took her by surprise.

The word she wrote on the wall was a lie. Even standing before the empty bed, feeling the lack of her beloved husband, she knew it was a lie. "I am not lonely. Not with this many kind friends around me," Tanith murmured to herself, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Smiling and closing her eyes, she fell back against the covers.

[Esterlen 4462]

((Join the White Rose, we fight dragons and are castrated by ocelots.))

[Temp 2006]

Silence, the keep stood oddly quiet. The time was well passed Midnight, yet the sun had no sign of rising.

Temp sits on his bunk, covered in blood, most of which, not his own. He stares blankly at the planked floor before him. A bandage wrapped around his head, chest, and right arm. His chain mail and leather tossed off to the side. His body covered in bruises, several burn scars dot his back. The room nearly empty, most of the others deployed on missions.

He takes a deep breath. Recollecting the events that had unfolded. The attack of the dragon, being flicked aside as if an insect. His armor tearing like paper, and yet he still stood. The beast had been forced away, by the combined efforts of the roses.

His mind jumping about lightly, he continues to stare into the boards, his expression intensifying. The constant fighting, and conflict. The constant rising to victory. He felt as if he'd found home, had found purpose.

Temp exhales and falls back, slumping into the bed. Pain jolting throughout his body, yet he shows no sign of it. Now staring up at the ceiling, he mutters lightly to himself "Creator Protects..." and rolls to his side, coughing weakly. After some time, he slips into sleep, snoring obnoxiously.

[problematic z 477]

The sound of Temp's obnoxious snoring filled the halls of the Keep, Adeon, being in the room beneath the Man, sat up, swore and grabbed a broom, he stabbed the wooden ceiling with it, a harsh command broke the silence.

"TEMP, BY HOREN'S BEARD IF YOU DON'T STOP THAT, I'LL HAVE THAT GARGANTUAN FOREHEAD OF YOURS ON A SILVER PLATTER!"

The Sergeant sighed deeply and fell back onto his bunk, waiting for the chirp of morning birds and the start of a new day, when hopefully his own wounds will feel a bit better.

[firespirit44 1279]

Right hand on the middle of the shaft, thumb pointing upwards. Left hand on the back, leveling the tip towards the naval of a 6 foot tall person. Right foot forward, left foot back. Using the left arm to become a lever, so the right arm performs a small crescent swing towards the man's ribs, he aims the blade slightly behind. The man dodges backwards, using his claymore to smash Arkus's seemingly overextended head.

"HAAAAAAH!"

Quickly reposturing himself, he brings forth his left leg, and uses the butt of the halberd in a quick uppercut thrust towards the man. Barely glancing off the man's nose, startled, he tumbles back a step. A wide feral grin is plastered on Arkus, as he now performs his last dance. As both his hands are above his head in the earlier uppercut thrust, he now positions himself for the vertical stroke, effectively becoming a guillotine.

That shadow warrior never stood a chance.

Panting, Arkus plants the halberd in the sand, taking a sit on Peter's chest full of ****, as Thomas so aptly puts it. He closes his eyes, back to last evening, when the White Rose mobilized towards to Solace.

Every Order was heeded.

Every Order was carried out effectively.

Even the line was never broken.

It was a small pity, the adversary was some sort of misguided pumpkin-man, but the Commanding Officers would not relent in their strict discipline.

"VAULT!"

A uniformed line of plate-cladded soldiers, vaulting over the overgrowth, their weapons already on the draw, bow and arrow notched while the melee soldiers flanked the sides, protecting the archers. Excellent.

Captain took Brann and went ahead to apprehend the freak, as the rest remained in formation. Raindrops fell as thunder roared in the sky, the droplets eventually becoming as big as pumpkin seeds. Heated words were exchanged between the Cleric and the Officers, and in the end Thomas was firm. With just a mere wave of his gauntlet, the archers reshuffled and followed his hand.

As it went down, the arrows were let loose. 1, 2, 3 arrows all struck the pumpkin man, as he fell to the floor of the gazebo. Lifeless, the light dimming in his sockets.

It was beautiful.

A shiver was sent down his spine, as Arkus looks at both his palms shaking in excitement. The prospect of doing a job well, and everyone pulling their own weight. Uniformed in clothes and mind. This far surpasses anything the Oren Lances, the Knights could ever achieve. This was a true Military Order. This was the Order of the White Rose.

A slow curl comes unbidden to his lips

All we need now is a real army to face.

[CosmicWhaleShark 2484]

The aching groan of the masts against the wind pierced through what would typically be the serene sound of the sea splashing against stern and stone. Areon had arrived within the Wilven harbor, a hub of activity, as it was every day and night. He saw the blossoming vase of sails as they weaved in and out, having essentially followed one particular ship. The return from Krak had been uneventful, he beckoned his stay upon the usual caravan to and from the Sanctuary. However the Rose men themselves were unloading there, a whole triple of them. Areon could not help but wonder why such a force was headed into the mainlands, armed in such a way too.

Areon trailed them in a carriage once more as they entered the tunnel to the Southern realms, to his surprise, they all stopped in Solace. They were a magnificent show of discipline and force, Areon could not ignore the danger they presented however. He eyed the crossbow men especially, new faces with their fingers constantly on the triggers, he couldn't help but imagine the result of an impulsive recruit. Within the square of Solace, he saw a load of activity, in one spot particuarly. Some bodies hunched over with the smear of blood on their hands and clothes, not of their own...

Heading over towards the group of fumbling healers, he waved his armored hand, "I shall tend to him..." he said. The snow was already crimson slush from the blood, it was not a dramatically large splotch, however snow took the blood in. Kneeling down besides the strange pumpkin man, he sent a pulse to see what wounds had befallen such a seemingly innocent individual. On top of a small cut, only lethal if untreated, he felt something... Else. It had been quite some time though since he was a zealous hunter of darkness however. And the man did not present danger, initially at least. Areon dazzled the crowd with a spectral showing of energy and magic, his whole body a beacon of blue tinted tendrils and whisps. Finally sealing the wound, he rose, unburdened by the healings of the pumpkin man it seemed.

Areon blinked toward the scene set before him as he stood, the situation dauntingly shocking. The Rose triple knelt behind the hedges, using shrubbery for cover. Their weapons were drawn, that much he had known, however in his trance of healing, they had moved. Their crossbows were pointed at him. He licked at his dry lips, breathing evenly as he saw Thomas raise his hand for an order. Areon considered his possibilities, seeing the situation hopeless, he stared down Thomas as he awaited what was seemingly his fate. Thomas, rather than ordering them to fire, dispatched Toov and Volsung to retrieve the small pumpkin man. Areon continued to stare at the crossbow men, some of them beginning to shudder, having them aimed for so long. Areon protested the cause for them doing this, the man had after all been his adopted responsibility, and they were lugging him away. He dared not make a move though, with some of the crossbows still pointed at him, their wielders wearying by the minute.

He looked onward as he saw Toov prop the delirious pumpkin man against the gazebo. The firing squad now lifting the burden of their gaze from Areon. Toov left the pumpkin man, alone, to tend with the bristling hedge of men.

"Vhat vould you have me do, Cleric?" Toov spoke beside him, "Corruption iz everyvhere in diz city..." Areon looked to the large man with a condescending shake of his head. A daring gesture, besides someone three feet taller than you.

"You've grown soft, in the throes of nobility, Toov. You've lost you touch with the common people, I expected more..." Areon averted his gaze as Thomas began to prepare his men with a speech, then a declaration of law. "I am taking my own steps to cleanse this city. One must be more delicate though. Ye cannot hold a crumbling city in an iron grip, it will fall through your fingers, the only thing in your hand, dust," Areon spoke ominously. All too aware of the result that soldiers had on order in a city. He raised his gaze back towards the pumpkin man as Toov spoke.

"Vhat then? Leave de city to burn?" He asked accusingly, it was a dreadfully obvious, loaded question. Areon was still at odds with the Rose.

"The High Queen is my pupil now, Toov, when she has learned our ways, she will be obligated to clean her own city." Areon retorted with a soft, even tone. Closing his eyes after he saw the crossbows recoil from their shots, stabbing into the pumpkin man like several old woman, furiously ending their nightly sewing, and loading the pincushion for the next day. Areon knew it was coming, but he was filled with rage all the same at the result. Heading over to confirm what he already knew. To onlookers, it may have looked like he was trying to heal the pumpkin man. However he simply sent a pulse of energy into the corpse, already knowing there would be no return.

"Cleric! If you heal that man, you'll be an enemy of the Empire," A Rose recruit shouted out.

Areon rolled his neck in annoyance, still staring at the red rose colored pincushion. "I cannot heal what is already dead, fool," he spits out with a bitter taste in his mouth. Turning back to the group, he saw that they were reloading in preparation. Thankfully they weren't speaking whilst doing so. Areon returned to his former spot, this time Toov moved, to burn the body. Areon spoke to Toov for a few more moments as the body burned. And then they went their seperate ways... not knowing what side they will see eachother on next,

[ski_king3 0]

((Methinks Averyse Cormik should be added as a Footman and Apprentice to Gilahad))

[Peter Chivay 2492]

[[ Roster updated once more folks, hope I got everyone this time.

Some things to look forward to are:

• 
  
  
• A medal post, detailing Order decoration and future medals that will be handed out for service, etc.
  
• Addition and expansion on current ranking system.
  
• Possible creation of 'squad' system, based on time zones and friendships.
  

Happy hunting all.

[Altiak 1648]

Jason walks the path from Crestfall to Krak, tired from his long journey. He lets out a sigh of relief as the walls of Krak come into view. Jason walks on, opening and passing through the two gates that keep wanderers out of Krak. Once he is inside, he hears a muffled sound of splashing and jogs towards the direction of the keep. There, his jaw drops as he sees dozens of chickens swimming clumsily through the water. The chicken coop was empty, and the gate was open. Shaking his head in disbelief he enters the keep only to see more chickens flapping their wings in an attempt to fly. "Wonderful.." Jason mutters. He trudges to his bunk to change into his tabard and thinks about what he was going to do about this chicken crisis. After that he chuckles and says, "May God help whoever left that gate open."

[Solaba 144]

Garen stands with a relaxed posture in the pit, overseeing the new recruits, or unoathed, go through their evaluative testing. Many show promising results, but some are in dire need of improvement before getting cut. Two men out of the twelve during the archery segment cannot hit the desired amount of marks. Garen gives them a few goes at it, but when they fail to provide, he has to cut them. The next text is proficiency with the Orders' standard armament. Time and time again, the unoathed fail to complete the test because of their slow adaptation skills to the different weight and balance. Four of them fail to provide the skill with these weapons, and Garen must remove them from the test. Half the starting number remain, and the test of endurance, agility, and strength remain. Garen calls these last tests part of the *Proving Grounds*, for here, you must prove your actions with wit, speed, strength, and have a mindset to never quit. The agility test consists of the unoathed to climb the watchtower of Kraks' wall, race past the battlements, and reach Garen in a desired time. Many testers fail to do this, as they cannot alternate their patterns of fast to slow, as they reach the many turns of the wall. One unoathed, during this session even falls off the wall during this time, proving he is to clumsy to pass the test of the walls layout. The test of strength is when the unoathed have to climb the top of Toov's tower two times, some barely managing to reach the top the first time around. Garen has to mark X on the chart for two men, them not being able to pass it in time. The final test remains of endurance, to be able to swim in Krak's canal in chainmail armor. Unfortunately, one of the unoathed can't even swim, so he was cut. Two recruits remained, William and Mordin. Garen gives the instructions to swim to the far side of the canal. Mordin goes first, but heeding Garens' orders, he swims to Garen, on the far side of him, not the canal. Garen throws Mordin back in, and makes him swim tiredly to the end, nearly not passing the test. William, however, swims along the edge of the walkway, pushing off to gain speed on the various twists of the canal. Garen smiles at the wit, approving. The two unoathed remain at attention near the edge of the canal, dripping wet, awaiting further orders. Garen marches to them, and says "If you wish to pass the test, you must now jump off Toov's tower." Mordin questions him with saying, "Sir, are ye crazy?" Garen simply laughs, giving a nod of his head. William without any hesitation agrees to it, and with some further thinking, Mordin does to. Many disagree with jumping off the tower, it peaks a little over the clouds, the top barely visible on cloudy days. Garen nods his head and says,"Very well, we shall finish off with this." Mordin shakes with frightfulness, knowing he shouldn't have accepted the choice. As they climb through Krak, William is heard breathing hard. They reach the peak, and Garen stands near the edge. "How brave of ye two...but the only problem is, only a fool would jump off the tower." Mordin sighs with relief, and Garen gives him a questioning look."Ye are OK with this? Being called a fool?" Mordin replies with "Sir, call me what you will, but if this is the stuff necessary to fight in a justified battle, I will heed the call."Garen turns to William and says, "And you?" William replies with, "Well, I just don't care one way or another." Garen nods his head slightly disapproving, but the test is totally optional. He nods his head and says, "Welcome to the Order, lads." Garen, against all odds runs forward and jumps, falling into the canal of Krak.

[Urahra 5359]

((Realized I had a backlog of White Rose art I hadn't posted on this thread. So here ya go.))

[simidimi12 (Symo) 70]

*Sitting in his Inn in Solace, Symodimi speaks of the recent happenings with his friend, Kaun the Wise Elf*

"So explain me what they have done my friend?"

"Jullius and his men, the White Roses came in here and started causing trouble. Also, Jullius kept asking for you for some reasons." *Kaun replies to Symodimi's question*

"Aye, I think we should send them a little message..."