Order Of The White Rose

[Gunner 775]

Chet wiped a sweat from his forehead, grunting as he looks at the open space near the gate. "Hmh.. Graveyards.. Yes.."
"..Graveyards?" He questions too himself.
"Yes. GRAVEYARDS!" Almost immediately; the autistic old man starts too create something for the Honored and Great deceased Roses. A Graveyard.

 

After two days of Enslavement, he made final touches... before revealing the finished result.

 

[Gunner 775]

 

A drawing of a less chunky ballista is pinned around Kaedrin

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

“Splash!”
Jullius dropped off of Salvus’ walls into the river below, disrupting its peaceful
southbound flow. He swam feverishly to the river’s edge, hardly pausing to take
a breath and strenuously pulled himself ashore. He collapsed on the riverbank
panting heavily, running over the in his head the events that had just
transpired.

Jullius had strolled idly through Salvus’ northern gates when he had spotted
Ser Ocran. “If any one of you touches me you’ll be court marshalled!” he
shouted, his voice piercing the air. Jullius immediately changed course,
striding over to Ser Ocran, who appeared to be arguing with Lancel
Horen-Hightower.

“Ser Ocran. Do you require any assistance?”
“No Jullius. I’ll solve this on my own.”
“So be it. Let me know if you need any help. I won’t be far.”

The Salvus Shields movements were shifty to say the least. When Lancel and Ser
Ocran moved toward the palace to speak privately Jullius quickly gave pursuit,
worried for Joseph’s wellbeing.  Upon their arrival in the palace, Lancel and Joseph disappeared into the upper levels of the keep, leaving Jullius to stand in the foyer. However, their trek into the palace had not ceased The Shields suspicious movements. Occasionally they would look in his direction, and then look back to their fellow soldiers wordlessly. They were definitely up to something.

Jullius furrowed his brow, glowering at them in an attempt to intimidate them,
despite being both unarmed and without armour or reinforcements. Suddenly out
of the corner of his eye, he saw The Shields Lord Commander stride toward him,
nodding to one of his subordinates who fell into step behind him. Jullius
turned on is heel and made a break for the exit, sprinting full tilt from the
keep and out of the palace. Given that he was traveling much lighter then the
Shields, he was able to outrun them in moments. However, their efforts to pursue
were half hearted at best.

He ran down the street for a short time before ducking into an alleyway. He
slipped a blank piece of parchment out of his coat, and slid it into an envelope.
He cringed as a patrol of Shields marched past. He heard their Lord Commander shout “Close down the city! Let no one in our out! Execute any Roses that you see!”

Terror flooded through Jullius’ body, causing his head to spin momentarily. It
was as he had feared. The Shields were locking down the city and hunting down
any White Roses in the city to by hung. He poked his head out of the alley,
looking toward the palace, where he had last seen Joseph “He’s already dead...”
Jullius cursed, striding out of the alleyway, and calling down his bird.

Before long, he was joined by a magnificent red Cardinal. He quickly tied the
blank letter to its leg and looked about. A Shield was approaching him from
behind, just as he had anticipated. He released his Cardinal into the air,
letter attached to it leg. He turned about to face The Shield. The sight of the
bird taking flight with the letter seemed not to have deterred him. The Shield
reared back his blade, swinging ferociously toward his neck. He leaped backward
and almost lost his footing, continuing to recoil from the lone Shield at a
reasonable pace.

“Wait! Listen!”
“Shut up and accept your fate Rose!”
“That bird I just sent will arrive shortly at The White Rose Headquarters Ard
Kerrack. If I don’t make it out of here alive, you and all of your little Shield pas are all severely fucked, you hear? They’ll arrive in full force, and The Shields won’t be able to handle a retaliation from them.”
The Shield growled and his advance stopped.
“Hurry up and get out of the city then.”

Jullius didn’t hang around for further conversation or questioning. He swiftly
climbed up to the roves, and made his way over the wall and out of the city.

Jullius pushed himself up from the riverbank, continuing to pant heavily. Now
was not the time to rest. Senior Command had to be informed. He rose to his
feet and continued his on his way, running away from Salvus and toward Kaedrin.
“Salvus dogs!” Jullius thought. He had barely escaped with his life leaving
Joseph at the mercy of Salvus’ forces, but he had survived. And he would be
damned if he let Salvus get away with this.

[Temp 2006]

The sound of heavy Steel boots echo throughout the upper floors of the keep. A thin dotted line of red runs up the stairs, through several arches, and down a dimly lit hall. The line halting, now becoming a small pool at a seemingly random spot amidst the keep. Abruptly, several heavy thuds are heard as armored gauntlet repeatedly meets wooden door. There's an akward silence before the thudding begins again. Sighing, Temp chucks a blood-soaked leather sack aside the door before turning and following the trail out.

 

He had left a severed head at Bran's doorstep, not knowing where to find him.

[Solaba 144]

Massive wood-chopping began, and the travelers on their ways heard the familiar chop of an ax. Something is on its way.

[DelaneyG 1279]

Arthal walks about the keep, occasionally reaching up and feeling the side of his head. The battle was weeks ago, but he can still feel the horror of those few days. The bodies. The fires. Lucius and Gilahad dying.

 

He feels his new scar, and cannot help to think, "Is this all worth it?" He looks about him, standing in the main courtyard. He looks to the fountain, the flowing water, and the space that flowing water is confined to. One place. Same movements over and over. He then looks to the statue of the Rose. He smiles, looking the statue up and down, nodding at the great work Chet had done on it. The stone Rose standing tall and strong, as if guarding the fountain. He turns, his boots crackling the gravel underneath, and he looks finally to the keep. He nods now, before sticking his right arm out, crossing it over his chest, and holding it above his heart, before proudly saying, "Ave." He holds the position for a few moments, wondering what the fountain and Rose statue mean. After a few minutes, he comes to the conclusion that the fountain is Oren, and the statue, The White Rose, the true protectors of Oren. He lowers his arm, ending his salute, before turning and heading out the gates, moving toward his home in Hyrr, to take a rest.

[Temp 2006]

Each rising push and pull simply brought his leather clad being closer to the top. Ascending with as much speed and strength he could muster. A crumbling ruin, encompassed with vegetation and overgrowth had hardly been the desirable place for the hunt, but the creature had managed evasion until this point. The others had managed to ascend to the Ruin's peak before Temp could even manage a decent foothold. The top nearing view, he lunges out taking grip of the ledge and pulling himself up. Bits of stone crumbling beneath his weight. He turns himself, taking a brief seat and looking to the situation at hand. A Dog-like creature laid atop the youngest member of the group. The motions were hastened and blur-like, pinpointing precisely what had occured was a task within itself.

 

The situation clicking within his mind, Temp shoves himself into a rise, staggering along the uneven surface and half-assedly moving toward the toppled over member. As he drew closer, something unexpected occurred. A pair of feet, driven by a vine, made swing, collides with the creature. It topples over, flung toward Temp. He towers over the beast. As it comes into a rise, he reels back his leg and drives heel to it's face. The beast topples over, face contorted into a pained grimace, tooth and blood flung from it's maw. Before it can manage to rise, he steps forward, driving heel to it's neck and pinning it to the ground. The beast flails about madly in an attempt to free itself, eventually driving claw to the pinning leg repeatedly. Before any true progress is made, a bolt digs into the creature's side. The motions come into a maddened frenzy, but to no avail. Before it can manage any true damage, consciousness fades from the beast.

 

The Marked had claimed their target, despite it's efforts.

[Urahra 5359]

Look, I drew things.

 

 

[DelaneyG 1279]

Arthal Lowedge sits on the stairs in the center of the White Rose Keep. He looks around the courtyard, his eyes barely keeping up with the movements his brain wants them to do. Under his eyes are 2 big, dark circles, from lack of sleep. It had been 2 weeks (1 irl day) since he had been BlackMarked. He remembers it more than any battle he had attended. He was confused, and then there was just white hot pain. 

 

Now, he sits there, deeply depressed, tired, and malnourished. His eyes sulk around, and land on the large statue of the Rose in the center of the courtyard. He stands, and slowly making his way towards the statue. He straightens his entire body, furrowing his brow.

Tears begin to well up in his eyes.

 

Arthal raises his right arm, crossing it over his chest. He pats his chest, before extending the arm to the statue.

 

He lowers the salute after a few moments, before looking around, to see if anyone was looking. No one was. He makes his way back to the stairs, silently crying.

[firespirit44 1279]

The crippled smith toils endlessly in the keep, along with his mad colleague, Chet. Walls are raised, torn, designed, destroyed. Frustration gets to them repeatedly. Inspiration a illusion, perfection a dissonance.

Arkus gave up on living. Nobody even lives in the keep, why does he toil so much? His family of 20 years has split up. Temp is living with Adeon on some remote tropical island, Bran stays with his wife in a large manor, Captain Toov and his wife took to a small plateau keep, alongside with several other order members.

Hearing his apprentice Alexei say "I dont like staying here" drove a nail into his heart, the contained darkness poured out of him like a never ending torment.

"You're not good enough"

"This isn't Krak du Rhoswen"

"Useless cripple, cant even get the job done right"

"We should have gotten someone else to do the job"

The whispers he hears in his head, the unspoken reality of himself. He gave up teaching, smithing, all for this new keep, Ard Kerack, to which he did not even have the luxury to give the name. It was as empty and hollow as his maimed hand.

With a roar of frustration, he threw a pick against Temp's new training pit, cracking open a stone pillar. Crumbling slightly, he saw it.

Something worth living for.

[Gunner 775]

Chet nods once, autistically. He walks outside, a first in three months, with a additional facial hair. "I..-" He stops, turning too look at the Keep and frowning.

 

A picture flashes into his head, making him collapse too the ground, coughing.

 

[Miquill 188]

(( I would like to join but I noticed there is no application, what should I do? ))

[Jarkarll 314]

Contact one of the four Order leaders-- those would be the following.

 

Chaqery

Sheumgal

Viscen

Skiddles

[3Pac 104]

(( I would like to join but I noticed there is no application, what should I do? ))

Come to the Keep in Kaedrin ICly.

[Temp 2006]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epBhRpz3Mpw

A small note is neatly folded and lain across the Decurions desk, various bits and pieces of paperwork or report consuming the rest of the desks's surface. Should one take the time to walk around the desk, a neatly folded tabard would be found placed atop the seat's makeshift cushion.

Should the other Marked come across the note it would read as follows:

"My time has come, I've matters of family to tend to. Where I go, I shall not speak on. The time of my return is unseen. Should it be seen as denial of service or abandoning the cause, so be it. Should I return, I accept my punishment with open arm. I ask not for understanding, nor do I ask for tear. I leave the Marked in Adeon's capable hands. See to it that 'Dagga' comes to. I expect him to excede my talents by far and should he fail, creator protect.

 

Temp Thersist

- White Rose Decurion

 

An age has come and gone, all without every truly coming into grasp."