The Banners Are Called! ((All Nobles Reply))

[The Lion 736]

Explicit Lyrics, play at own risk.

   Lion had no idea he was going anywhere when he woke up that morning. Crawling out of his giant heart shaped doom bed, he kisses a little bird on the head and goes to make breakfast. Potatoes, eggs, bacon, and toast get slapped together onto two plates as the tea comes to a boil. Balancing a pair of plates and tea cups in his hands he makes his way back to the doom bed, "Breakfast." he says to the bird. Together they went upstairs to the table and just sat down when forceful thuds rang out on his front door. "Fawk." Lion exclaims, walking down to meet this pest. "Banners have been called, report to the Castle." says some random agent of Godfrey to which Lion nods and walks back inside. Throwing chain over his dashiki and plate over his chain he straps armor to his legs and arms, gripping his machete he slings the sheath over his shoulder placing the machete inside it. Finally he puts on his helmet Darth Vader style, giving his goodbyes upstairs he walks to the castle to report.

 

-OP happens-

 

   Lion in his comfort clothes stares at all the lords coming into the tent, ready to murk any and all. "Am I getting paid for this?" he whispers to the Supreme Leader.

 

[Stevie 1598]

 

 

“We’ve been called to war!”

 

“The banners are answerin’ the call!”

“Bettah get ready, lads. Wiff luck this’ll be more of a fight then that whole ordeal wiff Malinor.”

“Fink we’ll get any good loot?”

“Where we goin’ anyway?”

 

“Who we fightin’?”

 

The chatter among the men was expected. All soldiers, old and new, greenhorns and veterans, were talking about this recent call and its purpose. They hadn’t heard an official call of the banners since Elysium, and it certainly was an exciting experience for several of the newer men. Everyone was itching for a fight, and a real fight at that. Something to test their mettle, their resolve, their sword arms.

The soldiers, although chatty, were preparing for the coming march. Footmen ran back and forth, heeding the order of the Quartermaster as they hauled supplies of all sorts onto horses, wagons, and soldier’s packs. Men-at-arms cleaned their armor and sharpened their blades, all grizzled veterans by this time and used to the air of battle. Ensigns and Decurions barked orders at whoever they felt was too idle, and the several Knights were left mostly to themselves, fixing their own packs and horses and preparing in their own way.

The Order was soon ready. Every soldier was armed, armored, and laden with packs on their backs. They assembled in their normal marching column and waited, staring forward in silence; a testament to their discipline. Along the left side of the column hoofbeats could be heard, and soon four figures were seen riding to the head of the column, easily recognized as the Senior Command. They pulled at the reins of their horses and turned them before the column, gazing down it in their own silence. It took the rise of a fist and a hearty roar from Peter to break the silence, and it broke it tremendously:

“WHITE ROSE, WHITE ROSE!”

The cheer echoed down the column, and the ground seemingly trembled at the sound of an army’s scream. And at this, the four commanders rode on to take their positions on the long column. Peter and Thomas heading the line, Bran Volsung the Confanonier took the center, and Lucien the Seneschal, in his greathelm he is so known for, took the rear. Peter glanced back at the column one more time before raising his hand, waving it forward as he calls the order, “Marche!” and the subsequent cheer from the army trembled the earth once more.

The march wasn’t long. They traveled on roads all too common and the column maintained its form and discipline the whole way, Senior Knights riding along the flanks and occasionally barking at a soldier who failed to keep cadence. It was halfway through their march that one commander sparked an idea, and with a pull of his reins he turned about, watching the column march past. A smile creeped across his face as he opened his mouth, and soon the bellowing voice of Thomas Chivay was heard, and passing soldiers turned their heads to hear his words... or rather his song...

 

“A LITTLE ELF WAS SKIPPIN’ DOWN THE PAFF!”

Every soldier knew this song, and chimed in appropriately with the chorus,

“PLOUGH ‘EM ALL, PLOUGH ‘EM ALL!”

 

“ALONG CAME AN ORC AN’ I KICKED ‘IM IN THE ARSE!”

“PLOUGH ‘EM ALL, PLOUGH ‘EM ALL!”

“DO YOU WANNA FIGHT, DO YOU ROTTEN SCUM?!”

“PLOUGH ‘EM ALL, PLOUGH ‘EM ALL!”

“DO THAT AGAIN, AN’ I’LL PLOUGH YER MUM!”

“PLOUUUGHHH THEMMM ALLLLLL!”

The song ended with a reverberating cheer and the army marched with more enthusiasm, increasing their pace and forcing even Peter at the head to urge the horse on in a faster gait.

The column finally reached the camp, and everybody knew their duty. The Confanonier would take the column off to pitch their tents, Lucien would ride about the camp and give blessings to all of the bannermen, and the Chivays would head for the command pavilion, which had already filled with the gathering banner commanders. They had arrived during dusk, and would pitch their tents in the failing light, but the torches and moonlight would guide their setup, and in an hour the column was dissolved, and pairs of soldiers were crammed into their tents or unloading supplies. The Rose had arrived, and they were ready for a fight, ready for a war...

...Ready for a victory.

 

[youlovesocks 652]

...Ready for a victo

 

(( LOL WHAT?! ))

[LedZep98 198]

 

The music echoes throughout the hills in the dead of night as the thunder of hooves and laughter approaches the camp. It's the sound of pure merriment. Smoke rises on the horizon, but not the smoke of war, the smoke of a mass of pipes and tobacco. The clacking of drinks can also be heard faintly throughout the mess. The symphony grows ever closer until the figures appear on the hill, a mass of mounted men, clad in green, all carrying the seal of the old grey tree. At it's front rides Codrik Green, his father's recent successor.

 

 

As they appear above the camp the music dies down, and the smoke dissipates.

Codrik motions to two figures in the mass of horses, who ride to his side - His brother, Benjamin, and his cousin, Coltius. He says something inaudible to them, and they turn, shouting orders to the men. The mass of horses trot down the hill towards an area at the edge of camp, and the lot of men dismount and quickly set to work, erecting tents of green and silver. 

 

 

The work only takes under an hour before the group goes silent once more.

The men can be seen settling in, and fires light up the section of camp before the merriment ensues, the music restarting, the pipes relighting, and the mugs clacking once again. Codrik sits in his tent with his company. He looks to one of his rangers - Glucen "the Glum".

 

"Glucen!"

"Aye... mil'ord?"

"Send word to his Imperial Majesty. Tell him we've arrived."

[Vekrus 396]

Talon sits at his desk in Sherwood County, the fire blazing behind him. A knock is heard at the door and he turns to answer.

"Come in."

A messenger from the Emperor strides in dawning the colors of Oren. Walking over the messenger hands him the decree from Emperor Godfrey. Talon reads the letter than gives his response.

"Tell the Emperor the banners of Valkrae will ready at once. We will fight."

Talon looks back to the fire for a brief moment before rising out of his chair and walking outside. As he steps down from his Manor some of the Bannermen lurk about at fires and patrols walk along the walls. Walking over to one of the fires he tells some of the men to get ready.

"Men prepare your weapons and armor, tonight we ride for the Emperor and the Holy Oren Empire."

The orders quickly spread through all of Sherwood as men gather their arms and their battle worn armor, dawning the Valkrae Eagle. Talon walks back into his Manor and down to his war vault. Lifting his armor of the walls he straps on his gleaming silver and black gaunlets, now covered in some of the finest armor made. Walking over to the wall he takes down the Valkrae Great sword and sheaths it next to his side. Turning around he sees his son James helmet in hand. Talon smiles to him and nods.

"Tell the men it's time to ride."

James quickly turns on his heel and heads upstairs and outside. A few moments later Talon emerges from the manor once again. The Bannermen are lined up before him in the black of the night, ready for battle. Talon walks over to his squire who holds the reins to his horse and smiles.

"Thank ye lad."

Taking the reins and swiftly mounting his horse he turns to his Bannermen and says in a deep but powerful voice. 

"The Emperor has called upon us this day to take up arms and ride to his aid. Be ready lads, war seems to waiting at the doorstep. Fight hard, be strong, and be ready to lay down your life for your brother. Tonight we ride!"

Kicking his horse Talon lunges forward, the Valkrae Bannermen thundering behind him as they set off for the encampment.

 

[Esterlen 4499]

 

A dour but small procession of armored soldiers donning red and white emblazoned mail surcoats, gripping handaxes in one hand and brightly-painted kite shields in the other marches through the Imperial war camp. It would appear to the viewer of said procession that they are in effect nothing but another group of men-at-arms who have answered the call of Emperor - a call for war. A lovely call, one that the group's leader had been desirous of for many years now. 

 

 

The ivory Sarkozy eagle was being flown by these men, and at their helm on a sable courser rode the Lord Hadrien de Sarkozy, the Count of Norfolk and Baron of Aldersberg. An unimposing man lately possessing of a prominent black and grey beard clad in green plate and mail armor, he rode without a helm so he could be more easily identified among the soldiers.

 

Breaking from the marching men and leaving them to the command of his nephew, Arjen, his steed slowly cantered towards the Emperor's tent. Upon arrival he removes his feet from the stirrup and dismounts the courser, a somewhat sour expression on his face. Rubbing his gloved hands together quite greedily, he mutters something to himself. 

 

"Deus vult indeed..."

 

 

He enters the Emperor's war tent confidently, his green armor somewhat shining by the candlelight. Sarkozy takes a few steps forward to the procession of nobles already present. Falling to a knee quite eagerly, his head bowed before the Emperor, the Lord of Norfolk begins to speak.

 

"Your Imperial Majesty. Myself and my most meager force of Norfolk is at your command."

[5678 260]

It was a chilly night and several guards were on duty, watching for any suspicious activity in the Valois territory. Several minutes after last daylight, they spot a rider bearing the imperial colors. He is stopped and the letter is taken to the Duchess.

 

 

 

 

Soon the orders to mobilize are given, and the first drums are heard to rouse the sleeping troops. Several hundred men run around gathering equipment and waking others. Barely a minute after the first call, the beat of more drums can be heard.

 

The men fall into line as they file past the quartermaster, gathering their supplies for the coming few days. The soldiers wait patiently on the road formed up in lines, being reviewed by their commanders.

 

 

Finally the last drum call is heard, signaling the order to march. The men begin at a slow pace before picking up speed. Travelling along the highway, it takes them but a few hours of hard marching before the encampment finally comes into view over a hill.

 

The Valois men take position on the eastern side of the large camp. Anyone in the camp would hear the strange songs of the Valois guards

 

"Look, look at those melons.

There's some for the Humans,

Some for the Dwarves

An' some for the Elves.

For the orcs there's no more,

For the orcs there's no more,

They be lazy arse wipes"

 

 

 

 

 

They are given five minutes to rest before they are divided into two groups. One begins to pitch the tents while the other group is organized into battle formation.

 

After the camp is set up, a small group made of a flag bearer, two drummers, and 5 soldiers approach the Emperor's tent. The group stops and an officer walks into the tent alone. He kneels before Godfrey, asking if he may speak. Once he is granted permission he simply states;

 

"I'm 'ere to represent House Valois and Duchess Chrestienne Valois, your Imperial majesty. We bring 5,000 able bodied men, all at yer service"

The officer looks around briefly before taking a seat and removing his helmet.

 

[Cracker 4570]

Lord Siegmund Carrion had awoken to the letter of summons; in turn he had awoke his retinue with blaring warhorns. A summon to levy.

 

Each Carrion "strelt" put on their finest set of rags and plucked up a polearm, scythe, axe, or any sharp object they could find as they began to forge a large demagoguery of peasant rabble. With haste, smiths began to dole out chainmail and iron plate according to experience. By sun's peak, the band of warriors, peasants, and commoners were prepared for march. Each was distinguished not with by a particular tabard or sigil, but rather by low-quality cast iron plating and sharp piercing pikes which were raised up to the air. Within the horde, various blotches of the levy were marked by the raised banner of a black crow on a crimson background, layered with a gold trim.

 

As the levy marched, select members of the retinue began to hum, then sing out to a glum marching tune.

 

 

The Carrion retinue had little formal discipline or training, clearly evident by their lackluster march. The horde lumbered with heavy, awkward steps throughout the counties of Green and Valois, often disorganizing themselves. However, the droning hymn of a peasant marching song had glued the retainers together, with Lord Carrion and his select choice of guards leading the way. As the song finished, only the dull march of boots had kept the retinue company on their march. One stray serf, in sheer boredom, shouted out...

 

"REMOVE SOUTHERNER"

 

His shout marked a flurry of outcries between the various serfs, peasants and retainers in Lord Carrion's service.

 

"I AM SOUTHERNER"

"100% F*CK TO SOUTHERNER AND YOUR MOTHER AND YOU"

"200% F*CK TO YOU AND YOUR MOTHER AND CURSE TO YOUR MOTHER'S GOAT'S MILK"

"YOU ARE WORST FILTH WHO MAKE SLANDER AND CURSE"

"400% F*CK TO EVERYONE!"

 

The growing tension erupted in a small scale brawl. Fists flew as a group of peasants had begun to brawl, and soon an entire left flank of the horde had descended into sheer chaos. Lord Carrion coolly turned around and immediately stopped the march. His gaze had slowly begun to paralyze the mob, who quickly noted the halt of the march and the cold stare of their liege lord.

 

"400% fucks mean 0% bread when we return. Resume march."

 

The fighting stopped in moments as the left flank quickly picked itself and marched forward in submission. In an attempt to redeem themselves, the left flank began another chant.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-sDet31CA8

 

"CARRION STRONG / REMOVE GREEN!"

 

While each retainer held their own respective view on the myriads of ethnicity in Anthos, all held harsh sentiment against the House neighboring the Carrion lands. The chant had spread among the masses like wildfire; each blaring it as they made their way through Valois land en route to the capital. Even the band of warriors surrounding Lord Carrion had began to mutter the slanderous chant along. Lord Carrion smirked plainly and let the men have their fun. 

 

The ensemble made their way to the capital. While most Lords had entered the assembly with diligent banner men marching to glorious war-hymns, the banner of the Black Crow was accompanied by the drunken jeers and hollers of rowdy peasant men slandering House Green. Lord Carrion moved along with a glum, robotic stare, dismounting from his horse, and leaving his retinue of 15,000 strong to settle with the rest of the Orenian forces.

 

 

The Carrion men formed a large camp-site, blaring out shanties of Carrion lore and of their own respective tribes, drinking themselves into a fine stupor. The resounding cries and song sounded distinctly alien to the other bannermen of Oren, leaving many scratching their heads at the tomfoolery of Carrion goons.

 

Lord Carrion stumbled into the war-tent of assorted nobles, before locking eyes straight to Godfrey and gruffly greeting out to the Emperor.

 

"Imperial Divinus, my men outside and I am inside. It is good to see."

[Snake Plissken 637]

Athirius Owl the Second trots slowly into the camp atop his steed. His cousin and brother ride either side of him with another meager twenty men of House Owl at their backs. The Lord stares grimly at the camp around him, meeting anyone who dares to look him in face with a pair of intimidatingly piercing eyes. As they approach an area large enough to pitch a few tents, Athirius exchanges words with his brother before the group dismounts. Artikus begins to command the men around in order to set up their campsite whilst Athirius and Arhadir continue towards the center of the camp on foot. Upon arriving at the Emperor's tent, the pair enter with nods of greeting directed at Godfrey and the other officials at the head of the table. The Owls then proceed to seat themselves several chairs away from the tent's entrance, all the while remaining as silent as the night.

[Dukester 120]

Lord Horacio of House Aurum, winged by his brothers Carlos and Boris, trailed by his daughter, Ellie Aurum. March gradually on horseback towards the nobleman's gathering, accompanied by the Aurianum Cavalry that bear the banner of House Aurum

 

 

 

 

=-=-=-=-=-=

 

Meanwhile in the camp as the soldiers of the many various houses sit patiently and attentively in their camps, the thudding of hooves and the echoes of song gradually rise from the distance, the song of the Aurianum Cavalry.

 

 

"I left my love, my love I left her

sleepin' in her bed

I turned my back on my true love

Went fightin' jolly men

 

I left my love a letter in the holler of a tree

I told her she would find me in the Aurums Calvary

 

Heigh-O, down they go there's no such word as can't

We'll ride clean down to Hell! And! Back!

For Horacio son of Grant

 

Heigh-O, down they go there's no such word as can't

We'll ride clean down to Hell! And! Back!

For Horacio son of Grant

 

Lord Horacio: "One moar time!"

 

As the cries of song cease, the Aurianum Cavalry call to a halt at the mouth of the camp. Lord Horacio, dressed in fine colours of red and gold with ribbons stringing from his hair, slides off the slide of his horse and looks up to his Cavalry.

 

"Good form everyone! Working in concert! Boris! You were slightly flat on the second verse, fix it.. Other then that! You men certainly know how to make your Lord happy"

 

Boris Aurum nods sharply, as a nearby horse guard to Horacio marches up to him and offers to take his cape. Lord Horacio nods to the horseman, handing him his cloak gently

 

"Thank ye Arthur! Your harmonies were exquisite I must say,"

 

Lord Horacio usually compliments his men and to know each of them by name to improve their morale. As Lord Horacio strides towards the tent of Emperor Godfrey, accompanied by his personal horse guard and family members, he walks to a halt directly outside the tent entrance. Lord Horacio looks to his daughter, Ellie Aurum and gestures her to enter the tent and make the Emperor aware of their arrival. Once Ellie enters the tent he turns on his heels back to his idle army to begin setting down the tents of their own.

[Peter Chivay 2494]

Peter Chivay groans a bit, pulling the reign on his horse with stout force.

 

"Thomas, I need teh' return teh' Westerland. I'll beh' bringin' 'alf the men, we 'ave other matters to attend tu' den' dis'."

 

Peter then leans in, a hushed tone is spoken to Thomas. Retracting his head, the Commander and his brother give one another a short nod.

 

With his gauntlet arched, Peter motions for the formation of Roses to part halfway. 

 

"Right 'alf, wif' me!" He shouts into the crowd of soldiers, all of them returning with a loud, "Yes sir!"

 

 

 

[Sultan 3953]

Godfrey looks to his left and right.. ''So who is missing?''

[Scipp3r 451]

Patrick slowly turns his head to Godfrey blinking "Oo, I remember when I was your age. . .what are ye,. . . 50?. . . I was. . .I was fifteh!. . . 60 years ago. . .

He then drops unconscious in a deep sleep on the table with drool coming from his mouth.

[TornadoWatch 364]

Jonathan Black watches as each Lord filters into the meeting. He stands by the Emperor resolutely, armed to the teeth, cold still. Normally, he was a Knight Commander, but when Godfrey was around he was one of his guards. The same applied when Horen was around. His eyes scan over each and every visitor; none could be trusted. Not in the presence of the Emperor. All were suspect. The Emperor's security was vital. Upon hearing the Emperor's question, he tilts his head ever so slightly to Godfrey, whispering through his helmet.

 

"House Blackmont appears to be absent, your Imperial Holiness..."

[IrishPerson 693]

James Valkrae stands beside his father in the tent, he turns his attention to the lord of House Aurum. He merely remains staring at him, unsure of his and his houses noble status.