Imperial Edict (Teutonic Order)

[LeRenardNoir 413]

Ser Edmond views a rather large version of the edict at Ard Kerrack with a single eyebrow raised. "Good, these blighters are gone. Now we should remove their traitorous allies." Edmond raises a single gauntlet clad hand and counts on his fingers, "Salvus and the 'Lord' Green shall be forced once more to bend the knee before Imperial might."

[Phog 150]

Heinrich smiles as he finishes reading the edict. He hopes that, in the end, the Teutons will be thrown down wells, so his country can be free.

[SteelMarshall 190]

The news of the edict had spread like wildfire. The brutal civil war, which had torn the Holy Oren Empire asunder, was finally coming to a close. The Teutonic Order was no more; their lands had been forfeited, their titles made meaningless, and their dreams broken upon the iron knee of the Emperor. Yet it was not over. It was far from over.

 

On the frontier of humanity's expansion, in lands that had once been owned by Elves, a lone figure reads the edict. His chainmail flashed in the weak sunlight that seeped through the thick clouds. His dull gray eyes flicked over the parchment hawkishly. He spoke to the man who had delivered him the note, an uneasy courier who was perched nervously upon his agile steed. Though the messenger was mounted, allowing him to tower over the armored man, he shivered involuntarily as the northerner's gravelly voice rippled in the frigid air.

 

"The Teutonic Order, that which once threatened our very existence... Now it has been vanquished, its dying breath lingering only in the minds of those who will dream of what it could have been. Yet our work has only just begun. We will wet our blades on Kingston's blood, and press House Green under our boots."

 

Uhtred Foy finishes speaking, and sends the courier off with a dismissive wave of his mailed gauntlet. His other hand clenches into a fist, the parchment in his palm crumpling pathetically. The Edict is left where it is dropped, the first drops of rain smearing the ink and soaking the paper. 

 

It was far from over.

 

 

[DruinsBane 240]

Flipping through some paper work glancing over some tax work, from out his door comes a humble knock "Thud!" "Thud!" standing from his chair his long crimson hair rolling down his shoulder's like a torrent of water. Shatter' hand extending his needle like finger's coiling around the door's handle opening it with a "Click!" a puzzled expression does hang over his face as his eye's narrow upon a boy at his door step, his brow raised in question.

"Can I 'elp ye' lad?"

The boy panting and puff sweat raising down his brow.

"Huh.. huh.. tha' toot fellows are disbanding.. I came ta' tell ye', but ye' see I 'ad a long trip 'ere.. so a bit of mina ye' do owe."

Shatter lowered his hand to his pocket his needle like finger's rifl'en about gaining hold of a few coin's, his hand extending giving it to the child, with a swing of his hand he shuts the door with a "Thud!" a puzzle expression lac’en his facial feature's.

“Mm.. this is most odd I wonder what M’lord will do now.”
 

[LedZep98 198]

Codrik sits alone in his quarters, hunched over his desk as he looks over the edict, fists clenched tightly. A bottle of whiskey sits next to him, never far from his hand. 

[Kanrath 190]

*Tenshar hears the news and laughs, not at the Teutons but at the very nation of Oren itself, and the fool emperor Horen. As he sits in his house far from any other person he studies the old book he recovered from the north. As he does he cannot help but

write the thoughts that come to his head as he reads.*

 

  "As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil...I wonder what it is you fear Oren. Do you fear death, to you fear the cries of the winged abominations from beyond the north gate. Or what about the changed halfling like creatures whose skin seems turned inside out? The Teutons feared them, and rightfully so, but in their fear they took action in the hope of protecting the rest of the lands from the same fear. With them gone the shadow of fear creeps slowly forward, and in time the gate will fall and a wave of death shall engulf the northern lands. And when it does Horen in his castle where he plays at war while pretending to be a god blessed man will learn he is naught but a child, a very very afraid child playing at war against beasts from the nightmares of grown men."

 

  "Count yourself lucky Agustus...you leave this world before such happens but your men will pay the price for their deeds. When the black winged reapers come from beyond the north your so called Dreadkeep will be the first to learn what true dread is after they take Hanseit. Then you, oh proud and haughty rose bleached of all color and wisdom, you will learn soon after. And when your roses run red with your own blood do not cry for others to save you for they will not, knowing well the same fate awaits them all in time they will stand divided. And then in time the creatures shall come upon Salvus and Abressi, and they shall bring blood and death and horror on those who sat silent and said naught about the foolishness of the orders. And when they are done, Oren will stand broken, a mere shadow of itself."

 

  "And from its death the other peoples will learn of what the fate of fools who cannot accept the help of others is, and they will come together to face the enemy. And only then will the creatures themselves learn what fear is. Because the beasts beyound the north fear the possibility of the many races standing united, of petty squabbles over land and titles put aside."

 

"Such is impossible for Oren, thus her fate is sealed."

 

*He continues to study the book as he makes plans for the trip up north beyond the north gate*

[Urahra 5777]

((Kanrath, the quote in your sig is inaccurate. The full thing is: 

 

If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again! it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:

'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

 

He's basically saying he's sick of love and wishes his appetite for it would die.

 

It's from Twelfth Night and said by Duke Orsino. That quote you have isn't even in iambic pentameter.))

[firespirit44 1323]

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