The Coming Of Order

[Stevie 1598]

The storm comes rolling in. Skies darken as heavy clouds glide above, intent on releasing its weight of rain down to the world. Below, where the races of Asulon walk, lies the city of Solace, in the Kingdom of Salvus under the Holy Oren Empire. It was here that the storm fast approached, challenging the city’s strongly fortified ramparts with its cracking thunder. But just as the storm above approached, a similar storm was marching on the city, only this one carried order and discipline rather than rain, the cadenced stomping of boots its thunder. This storm of order halted before the gates, the shuffling of plate dying down as the head of the line stepped forward before the iron bars that prevented their path inside. Even over the myriad of sounds a city of such magnitude produced, the shouts and calls from the main square of the city could still be heard. It was here that the storm of order was set to purpose, and with a steady rise of the iron gates and a wave of a hand, the storm surged forward, quickly forming lines to bar anyone’s escape from the city. For a moment, the crowd nearby the gazebo stuttered in its unrest, giving a cautious eye to the storm before them. Was it fear, or simply surprise that caught the mob? One cannot be sure, but it is certain that this storm was quickly recognized. Some fled almost immediately, while others meandered there way away, choosing to avoid the coming conflict. And, with another wave of a gauntleted hand, and the call of an order, the storm surged forward once more, drawing crossbows smoothly and positioning themselves behind one of the hedge rows that lined the gazebo plaza. The storm of order held here, while the storm of rain came rolling in, releasing its own forces down on the world: the rain and thunder from dark clouds. The pattering of water smashing plate was soon heard down the line of the storm of order, whose tabards -- primarily red with white accents and symbol -- soon became a shade darker and heavier from the pattering assault of the rain. The line stood with a stoic stance, staring forward, unwilling to show this rain an inch of advantage, and ultimately focused on their commanders who now began to call forth another order:

“Vault! Advance!”

And so they followed order, and with a fluid motion the line glided over the hedges, positioning themselves before the next row of hedges, taking aim once more. And by this time those who were in conflict resolved themselves, subduing the brigand, who was no more than a vile creature with a pumpkin as a head. Upon inspection of this creature, this daemon, the order was given to bring it to justice. With another order called, a towering giant of a man stepped easily over the hedge, followed by another, who both headed to apprehend this daemon. Followed by some protest of the onlookers, the giant and companion brought the daemon before the gazebo, fastening it to one of the posts, turning to face the deadly line of crossbows that now took aim. The force of the rain was consistent, it being the only sound penetrating the eerily calming plaza at times. With an order from one of the commanders positioned behind the line, the men tightened their posture, straightening their aim towards the pumpkin-headed daemon, a professional firing line now poised to strike it down. And, with the rise and fall of a hand, and the scream of one word, the line let loose their bolts, sending a terrible volley to the creature, who in turned screeched ferociously as it came to an end; a bloodcurdling scream that unnerved the onlookers, and even some men on the line. For a moment, silence fell the plaza, save the continuous pattering of rain on earth. Another order was called, and the disciplined line surged back to the gates, about facing to the gazebo, drawing swords and standing at attention. Stepping forward now, the giant loomed over the body, closing his eyes and summoning forth an aura that glowed around him. With the calm chant of a spell, the onlookers looked on in both fear and interest, watching as the giant increased in volume, chanting the words in a guttural tone:

Da pacem, Domine, in diebus nostris

Quia non est alius

Qui pugnet pro nobis

Nisi tu Deus noster.

By the last word, the giant rose his hands, and there struck the daemon’s body, bursting into flames, a fire intense and purposeful. The daemon turned to mere ash soon enough, and the giant marched back to take his place on the line. With the bringing up of the iron gates once more, the commander called out, a final order to the men; their work here finished:

“White Rose! Move out!”

They marched on without a word, disciplined and professional as ever. The storm of rain was just then receding, but it would return as nature dictates. And just as rain returns, so too will order.

[Teemo (Beast_Teemo) 9]

[some of the Roses aren't that disciplined... ahem, Vermn, ahem...]

[Chaqery 427]

((Good thing he wasn't there eh? This was creepy to participate in. The rain started right as we marched to the gate...

Everything written here happened almost exactly as it was written. That's what makes it scarier.))

[Peter Chivay 2494]

Peter Chivay leans further back in his chair as two concubines cuddle in his arms, sipping from a large ale mug in one hand, he hears news of the Rose's actions without his presence.

"Baha! I am proud of the lads! When I'm back, eh' can't wait teh' see'um!"

After his loud upstart, Peter begins laughing along with his escorts. Awaiting the faithful day he may return.

[SkyyoBee 249]

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