Order Of The White Rose

[Peter Chivay 2492]

Bells of victory and cheer ring in the halls of the White Rose fortress, much joy and celebration are taking place.

However, there is also a small underling tone of sadness. Thomas Chivay, now the new Grand Marshall of Oren. Must relinquish his rank as Knight Lieutenant in-order to obtain his new position.

Peter slowly rises from the feasting table, the surrounding Rose cease their chatter and cheers, awaiting the word from their Grand Master. "Dearest Roses... it 'as been eh' long an' 'ard decision. 'owever, we 'ave come to it."

The Grand Master takes a stout sip from his goblet, before proclaiming the rest of his statement. "The new Great Ser of the Chapter of the White Rose, is Edmond Brunswick. With Bran Volsung moving to the position as Senior Knight." Peter finally sets his goblet back down, clapping his gauntlets together after the announcing of the new ranks. The rest of the Roses follow suit, soon followed by chants of happiness and hope.

Peter now lifts his goblet back up, shouting over the crowd of men; "To victory, to progress! For the White Rose!" Tilting the large goblet back and finishing with a stout sigh of relief.

[Urahra 5363]

Tanith and Toov in Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker style.

[o_Ben_o 193]

A raven fly into the courtyard, slowly gliding in figures of eight until it lands by the Grand Master Peters feet

Dear Grand Mater of The White Roses,

My name is Baron Edward Xaies and I am rather interested and curious about your organisation which you are running. I like the idea of the race 'man' being the greatest and supreme race and I would like to know if I could discuss the whole aspect of your organisation to maybe be implemented in my lands as well. Please if you can name a set date and location to meet and I, Edward Xaies will be there.

Good Day

========

Baron Edward Xaies

Of the Baronny of Carsonne and Commander of Countess Jeans land.

[tnoy23 202]

((Written on a phone when I'm supposed to be asleep, sorry about any mistakes))

Iskast climbed the side of the mountain the camp was located on. It wasn't unusual for him, he always seemed to climb the side of it instead of the path. In the vast expanse of trees on that mountain, he chose one and climbed it quickly. As soon as he found an area to sit, he did so, looking around at the tree, seeing multiple images carved into it. One was of a house burning, a single man fleeing for his life, as several armed men destroyed it. There was an unussualy small farm the man was fleeing through, only expanding the equivalent of about 10 feet behind the house.

As he gazed at the carving, his eyes seemingly filled with tears. He quickly looked away, and took two small, nearly charred beyond recognition pictures out of his pack. A little known fact about him was that he had a brother, roughly 3 years younger than him. He looked at one of the pictures, seeing it displayed a human male and a dark elf female gazing upon an infant, no more than 6 months old. The elf was clad in basic leather armor, the man in basic work clothes.

The other one was more of a family portrait. It depicted a human male and a human female, the male being the same one from the previous picture. The female was also holding an infant, with a male child no more than 3 standing at her feet. As he looked at the pictures, he quickly erupted into tears, but did not make a sobbing sound.

After a few minutes, he quickly fell asleep. He was greeted by a dream of his previous household. He looked down and noticed he did not have a tabard or any of his various weapons. He also quickly realised he was only 16, just when his house was raided. He turned around and saw a large group of ironclad bandits, running towards him. Time seemed to slow, and all but one bandit disappeared. The only one that remained was a female dark elf, who looked exactly like the one in his picture. He quickly realised who she was, just as she attacked him. As soon as the blade connected, he awoke, tumbling from his perch and quickly rolled down the hillside. Once he stopped he realised what happened.

And he realised who that elf was.

[Ever 2646]

I apologize for this OOC post but I would like to remind you folks that I owe you guys a 2-3 minute video/trailer for your guild. Click the image in my signature if you'd like more information, but the tl;dr is that I traded video for art and with 3.0 soon, my part of the trade is gonna come through soon.

[ScreamingDingo 17113]

As night falls upon the camp, a weary soldier rests in his bed. His eyes weakly look around the barracks as he raises his head, his neck cracking. The sound of others sleeping fills his old ears as the soldier bursts into a fit of coughing. He grumbles as he covers his mouth with the back of his glove, his messy blonde hair shaking with the sudden coughs. "May da Creator bless meh from fallin' ill..." Terryn sighs as he pats his chest, another coughing fit erupting. He lurches forward as a small blot of blood flies out of his mouth, landing onto the sheet and staining it as he wipes his mouth.

"It seems dat mah son will bloodeh serve in mah name while I rest in da skies." Terryn smiles weakly as he gets out of his bed, the wooden frame creaking as his feet go onto the wooden floor. He moves over to the chest and lifts the lid up, patting the tabard that rests in it, folded. He looks around at the men that sleep around him. Jullius, Temp, Aureas, Adeon. Friends he has made over the years in service. He looks at the bed as he slowly walks towards it. "The White Rose... I'll serve yah till meh dyin' breath." Terryn chuckles softly as he gets back into the bed, resting his head on the pillow as he drifts off to sleep.

[[Also, my skype has been screwing up and I updated my MC. So I won't talk to you probably until I can find a downgrader and fix skype.]]

[Benedick Irontounge 51]

((I'm not 100% sure but I'll get back to you on this but i believe you have built your castle on top of a volcano... http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/78573-feedback-and-suggestions-for-the-next-island/))

[Watyll 1102]

I see absolutely nothing here about dark elves.

[Jarkarll 314]

I see absolutely nothing here about dark elves.

You're looking in the wrong place. Sheumgal referred to the House Chivay history thread for the reasons behind racism. You can find it in the noble houses thread. Also you can find it further in the thread in a discussion we had with samoblivion.

[Avacyn 1706]

I see absolutely nothing here about dark elves.

Instead of lurking on the forums and making points that you don't back up and just "meh" at other people's, why don't you contact Sheumgal, SKiddles, Chaqery, or Viscen and talk?

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

Jullius casually strolls down the stairs in the main keep of The White Rose Fort, his expression souring slightly. The Fort was on top of a snowy mountain, a location he had never agreed with, having spent a good deal of time in the Desert Nation of Seventis. The thought of leaving the warmth of the keep and tread out in the snow was clearly of distaste to him as a frown tugged gently at the side of his mouth.

As he finally reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the throne room, he looked up and suddenly sprang backwards. He swiftly straitened his posture which was formerly relaxed, and raised his hand to his forehead, striking his regular crisp and attentive salute. There he stood for several tense moments in silence, his eyes fixed on Grand Marshal Thomas Chivay. The seconds droned on, Jullius maintaining his salute as he began to wonder why Thomas had yet to acknowledge him.

“Excuse me si-“

The Grand Marshal interrupted Jullius with a soft snore, as he shifted slightly on his throne. With a sigh, Jullius relinquished his salute, resting his hand at his side. He had failed to realise that Thomas was fast asleep. There was a matter that he had wanted to speak with him on, but it is best to let sleeping bears lay. And with that, he dismissed himself. He walked past an eye hung in a frame. The eye of a Rebel named Jex, hung there as a lasting reminder as to how rebels within the glorious human empire are to be treated. Jullius turned to the eye hung on the wall. He nodded slowly at it, remembering how he had obtained it, and then shuddering as he recalled how Adorellan had removed it from Jex’s skull as he screamed in agony.

“A fate well deserved.”

He stated as he turned and walked away from the frame. And at last he had exited the keep. He glowered and furrowed his brow, as he was met almost at once with a gust of frigid wind, blowing snow into his face and into his crimson hair. He recoiled backward a few steps, bringing up his arms to cover his face from the harsh winds that felt like daggers upon his desert born flesh. After a few moments, the gusts ceased, and the snow fell more gracefully to the grown, culminating in a small pile which continued to grow in size as the weather persisted. He brought forth a short laugh as the thought of several unoathed feverishly shoveling away the snow, as Garen watched, jeering cruelly at them, in a way similar to what he had experience when he had joined.

“Where would we be without that bastard?”

Jullius patrolled the ramparts of the fort, all alone. The only company he had was his Cranequin, which he kept loaded, just in case. He looked downward onto the Vale. He narrowed his eyes at the Halflings bellow, waddling contentedly about. He managed to make out Folco, quietly smoking his pipe on a field. He smiled gently, as The Halfings were one of his favorite people. However, his briefly peaceful expression grew cold as he glanced upward. As he scanned his eyes across the once beautiful valley, they fixed on the volcano that seemed to erupt evermore, constantly spewing red hot magma forth from within. He watched is sickeningly ooze into the valley.
 Jullius inhaled deeply though his nostrils. He could almost smell the brimstone from where he stood, but not quite. He exhaled out his mouth, a stream of mist brought forth from his lips. He observed the mist curl through the freezing air, as he recalled a conversation he had shared with Captain Toov.

“Ve need to get off zhis damnable place”
Captain Toov had stated, a rather worn out air in his tone.
Jullius nodded fervently before saying,
“I agree. I haven’t the faintest inkling as to why we have not left yet. The island sakes itself apart, creatures of the night abound, active volcanoes, Orcs, swine’s walking upright... Wherever here is, it is where we should not be.”

Memories such as this echoed through Jullius’ mind ceaselessly. Some of the living, and some of the dead. Some were good memories, but the majority of them he recalled against his will and racked him both in his sleep and during his waking day. Jullius shook himself away from his memory and once more returned to reality. The silence of the mountain wrung deafeningly all around him as he gazed down at his feet. He had come to a stop without realising, and stood leaning against the tower that seemed to hang over the ramparts. He pushed himself off of the tower and resumed his patrol. The expression of pensive agitation consumed his face once more, no longer bothered by the cold, but the state of his life, and the state of the world as a whole. The once great Elven Nation of He broke the deafening silence of the mountain by stating in a melancholy tone,

“We have got to get out of here.”

Jullius’ Cranequin hung at his side at the end of his arm. He quietly plodded through the fort, the snow that had culminated on the ramparts muffling his footsteps, and before long he had disappeared into the silence entirely.

[Polgrath 215]

* a script in messy barely literate scrawl is sent by a ratty pigeon to the White Rose

 

Ay, Traglop seek to join the order... I waited outside yonder gate for several days... I love me country and me fellow man and want to bring glory to the one Creator... please send me burd back and I will serve ye in any way ye need! I  am good with my numbers and can keep watch better then a ol' hound looking out for a steak. The White Rose has been me idol since they showed those greenskins to mind their manners. Please allow me entreee sers

-Traglop, son of Donblat

[Stevie 1598]

Thomas snickers as he comes across the note, batting away the smelly pigeon with a gauntlet. He decides to compose his own reply, using the same style as the ignorant man had used:

 

"da fuks rong wiff yu ye rite liek yer 6"

-Poikey

 

He attaches his note to a sparrow, grabbing it and throwing it off, smiling.

[Polgrath 215]

A sparrow flutters in a window of a mud-hovel. A chubby pale figure in a potato sack rushes to the letter, grining ear to ear... his joy soon turns to blubbering that echos throughout his smelly hovel....

 

 

Several Days Later:

 

*a grey raven delivers a message to The White Roses. In the raven's talons lies a fine parchment scroll written upon in a flowing script.

 

"Greetings brave warriors of The White Rose, I send this letter to you seeking employment. While I am a complete failure with the blade I still seek to serve ye. I can offer skills I have squired in the art of musical performance to record songs  and tales of your brave deeds. I hath a skill in the lute and epic tale telling. All I seek in compensation for my serving humbly as mistral is a bit of bread from time to time and the opprotunity to compose ballads of epic heroism found within your ranks. As I am sure ye hath many willing to sing of your great deeds I have attached a sample of my work for you brave sirs. I look forward to a reply, my lords.

 

- Mathias the Minstral

 

Gather round ye all for I do hath a tale

Tis of a brave order, who won without fail

These men had conquered all of their fears!

They strung chains of vile dark elf ears!

For throughout the land, from sea to shore

These heros deeds have gone down in lore

I speak of course of those warriors of ivory flower

Tis the White Roses who hold near divine power!

Aye, beware be ye traitor or elf

Save ye some trouble and go hang yourself!

And these sirs are always fair and just

Protecting the land for them tis a must

Upon their birth The Creator did smile!

In full plate armor, they can run for a mile!

Fast have travelled their deeds worthy of prose,

Shot throughout the land like their mighty crossbows

Now if villans hear this tale and sit in doubt....

Beware fiends for ye the White Roses shall clout!

[Urahra 5363]

 

Chivay family portrait.