The Eventide Dominion Rebels!

[calculusdesola 1658]

The Schism is upon us

 

 

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

 

“Deus Magnus!”

     The call resounded across the courtyard of Castle Eventide, the old stone keep perched firmly upon a Cloudland hillside, its position eerily overlooking the Temple beyond. Six warrior-priests of the Church of the One True Faith stood in a semi-circle formation outside the outer portcullis, their faces flat and expressionless, armed with large tower shields and inscribed warhammers. This was their duty, what they had been bred to expect. Apostates who refuse redemption deserved no mercy in the eyes of God, as the law had been established by the true Horens generations ago. What drew the necessity for an exception to that law now?
 
   At the helm of the formation stood the Archbishop Franz Joseph himself, his ivory robes, over which he donned a robust chainmail hauberk, its likeness clanging against his body as a result of the downward gale assailing the valley. The mens’ hair blew about in their faces.  A harsh call emerged from the fortress as they stepped through the outer gate, its ardent denizens unmoved by the Church’s display of strength.  The archbishop stopped.  He raised his right hand upward in a fist, ordering a collective halt.  The ironclad priests peered around cautiously as the wind howled through the gaps in the keep’s outer walls, hammer and shield held firm in defiance of the Faith’s enemies.
 
   At last he spoke up again, his voice carrying over the wind and to the men-at-arms sequestered in the castle. “You have rejected my mercy. So be it." the Archbishop icily declared.

With that he lowered his fist, and the clerics of the Church made a swift-footed advance toward the bridge, ever cautious, eyes and ears as weary as the Creators’, endeavouring to find an entryway into the keep.  The unbroken silence from the fortress under the hillside was far more daunting than the prospect of a multitude of armed defenders, arms risen at the ready.  The men approached the wrought iron gates ahead, their uneasiness audible as a pit of liquid fire with a foul, rotten stench emitting from it makes up the moat essence around the bridge leading to the entrance proper.  A small porthole fixture opened forth from the gateway beyond.  “Dionysius, in!” a familiar, gnarled voice shouted from within the iron quadrant, before slamming the porthole shut.  From behind cover a handful of previously-hidden Eventide swordsmen dash before the priests perhaps ten yards forth, sprinting across the drawbridge and near-diving through the gateway’s secondary hatch, opened and shut immediately for them. He gestured for his men to hold.  “Remain at attention,” he stated, calculatingly.  Prelate Zacarias Mosquera stood at his side, beaming forth upon the ancient portcullis.
 
   With little hesitation, the Archbishop spoke.  He seemed clause to send forth the men at his command, but abstained, opposed to washing against the wall as aimlessly as sea to cliff.  His voice, however, uttered forth, the very ancient, loosened stones of the place vibrating as he bellowed in a commanding tone. “Men of the Eventide!  Hear my righteous proclamation!”
 
   “By right of birth and blood I do this day indict the Eventide Dominion on grounds of treason and apostasy!  God’s name be the greatest, surrender and receive the Archbishop’s mercy!” The flash of anger was evident in his voice, the apostates’ self-possession a very insult to the fabric of the Church in which he was raised.  The porthole in the gate opened again.  Finally, a response following the brief interval of silence.  “I offered your Prelate reasonable terms, Archbishop.  Am I to blame that he rejected them?”
 
   The Archbishop was quick to respond as loud as his previous tones, yet all the more confident.  He gripped his warhammer fiercely, as did the warrior priests under his command. “The Church bows to none,” he declared fiercely, “but He who it serves!” 
 
   The men of six cried forth, raising their warhammers high in the air for all the defenders to see from the their hidden viewpoints, challenging the hidden defenders to a fight that would not be answered.  “Deus magnus!  Deus magnus!  Deus magnus!”
 
   The porthole closed for several moments, a coarse shout audible from behind it as the defenders rallied inside.  It opened again, and a large, menacing wood and iron mechanism lay up against the porthole, aiming outward at the cohort of armored men on the opposite side of the bridge.  “Arrows, your Grace!” the Prelate shouted, beckoning the men around the opposite side of the tower for cover.  The Archbishop grimaced, hurrying around.  A bolt was fired, the first shot of the conflict, a kiss of death barely missing its others’ lips.  It flung into the corner of the tower facing the bridge, splitting off into several pieces, a ricocheted piece of the bolt’s head flinging unknowingly into one of the retreating priests’ rear breastplates.
 
   The men panted lightly from their newfound cover, recuperating yet remaining cautious on all sides.  The downward howling of the wind only seemed to increase since they had arrived, perhaps an otherworldly rhythm set to a bombastic fanfare.  “It is pointless to stand before their gates without siege weaponry.  We will return, brothers, with  rams aplenty and the entire realm’s army if needs be.”  The Archbishop gave an affirmative nod as he finished his statement’s promise.  The men remained weary even after they made their swift exit from the place, descending the Cloudland cliffscape and making their way back to the Anthos highway in the valley below.  A figure appeared marching up the hill toward them; a burly, laborious man without any clothing on his upper body.  He held his hands high, surrendering as the descending warrior clergymen surrounded him.  “This man,” the Prelate stated, “An eventide, no?  You were present when I negotiated with the lord inquisitor -- your name was Mason, I count.”  The burly man frowned, nodding once, affirmatively, “I allow myself to be captured, then, ser,” he responded, simply.  The priests apprehended him, and marched unhindered the rocky road to the former Silverblade fortress in Furnestock, where the Clergy was temporarily headquartered with the extended construction of Abresi’s cathedral district.
 
   The Eventide captive would later explain that his order’s fortress was built in ancient times by a cult of Iblees worshippers.  The irony, Zacarias had pointed out, that such heretical traitors lay in league with demonic abominations abroad.  Most astounding of his claims, however, were that the Lord Inquisitor Viktor himself were a direct servant to said cultists, that he had spectated him praying before ancient Iblees artifacts still present deep within the keep’s dark, abandoned basements.  Mason himself was pardoned after he renounced his Eventide membership, but not after an unremitting vow by the Prelate to spread details of this blasphemy across all four corners of Anthos, potentially a truly harmful notion to Princess Sophia 'the Iron Wench' Horen's claim to the throne (a nickname conceived originally by an unidentified Renatian nationalist).  A sizable portion of the realm's commonfolk will no doubt believe such accusations with little question, especially from the patriarch of the One True Faith itself.

 
   “Does it begin now, dear Archbishop?” the Prelate Mosquera asked in a hurried manner.  “No,” the Archbishop replied soundly.  “For them, it ends.  Deus Magnus.”

 

 

 

(( Told from a priest's perspective.  A follow-up post will be made shortly by Esterlen. ))

[Esterlen 4499]

 

Attention!

By order of the Privy Council of Renatus and in accordance with the will of God, the organization known as the Eventide Dominion is hereby deemed enemy of the Church, the Realm and the Crown. The moniker born by the Dominion as a ‘holy order’ is deemed to be false and the organization has created schism in its refusal to accept the Church’s religious primacy and its open rebellion against the Crown.

 

All members of the Eventide Dominion are hereby deemed outlaws in the realms of men, to be arrested, detained and brought before the Crown for trial. Any former civil or military positions held by the members of the Eventide Dominion are now null, and revoked of any or all household protection standard under Renatian law.  This extends over watchmen of the Abresi city guard.

 

His Eminence, Franz Joseph Sarkozic Carrion, the White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Enemies, Prince of Ruska and Renatus, Archbishop of Renatus, Metropolitan of Abresi and the Crownlands, and Chaplain of the Keep.

[Minea 124]

Lord Commander Starke McHaryn grimly looked at the poster before him, the parchment stating the Eventide Knights treason. Licking his lower lip he looked up to the Wolvengard officers present, their grim forms and black tabards ironically depicting the colour of their moods. All in the room remained quiet until Starke spoke, his gruff voice loud and uncompromising.

 

"The Eventide although more... religious than us, are none the less our brothers in a different time and place. This day I do something that has nae been done before in the Wolvengard, I issue an order without consultation of the council. The Wolvengard stand with the Eventide against the pretenders of Ruska, this day we offer them our support in arms and safe haven. Dinae disapoint me friends, Viktor is a man of reliability I would rather not see him on the end of a pike. I dinae care whom they worship, but allies are allies. Prepare the Wolven." 

 

Starke then growled and got to his feet, scrawling out a note before sending it off to the Lord Inquisitor, hopefully the Wolvengard courier, accompanied by two fully plated mounted knights got through to the Eventide fortress.

 

*A letter is bound and stamped with the Wolvengard sigil as well as the personal McHaryn ram sigil*

 

Hail Viktor,

The time is short for I have heard of yer predicament, therefore I send this by way of parchment so ye can show this to the Wolvengard officers should they dispute yer word. We stand with ye, as is our alliance, ye have our blades if ye wish. I trust that ye can hold off the devil ruskans until our forces can muster. If it comes to a war, send word and this letter to the Wolven at Crowsfoot, and our forces will answer.

 

I trust all goes well from this point on, good luck Lord Viktor.

 

Signed: Lord Commander Starke McHaryn, Leader of the Wolvengard, last of the McHaryn line of Broghan the Bear.

*the Wolvengard seal is imprinted here*

 

Hey Swgr mate, im away for work for the next two weeks, you have Ryan on skype so it should all be good. This should be interesting, good luck bro.

[Swgrclan 2682]

[[ Good post! It was a fun event in-game, very tense -- especially since we were low on men and had to depend solely on our keep's defenses. Though, I'm a bit concerned on one thing here.

 

 Most astounding of his claims, however, were that the Lord Inquisitor Viktor himself were a direct servant to said cultists, that he had spectated him praying before ancient Iblees artifacts still present deep within the keep’s dark, abandoned basements.

I presume this is a ruse, yes? Viktor was never found praying to Iblees, nor are there any ancient artifacts hidden about. I assume this is just false propaganda of sorts? ]]

[calculusdesola 1658]

[[ Good post! It was a fun event in-game, very tense -- especially since we were low on men and had to depend solely on our keep's defenses. Though, I'm a bit concerned on one thing here.

 

I presume this is a ruse, yes? Viktor was never found praying to Iblees, nor are there any ancient artifacts hidden about. I assume this is just false propaganda of sorts? ]]

 

(( It was based off of one of several accounts given to us ICly under interrogation in the Silverblade fortress.  So technically not a roose bolton, no.  But the possibility that they were lying or could be wrong exists. ))

 

(( The fortress itself is actually a former Iblees cultist hideout, the above aside, unless I'm mistaken. ))

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

+=                    =+=                    =+=+=+=                    =+=                    =+
- - -
Mason Owynson, now an Acolyte of Prelate Zacharias is positioned at his side most of the time,
slightly slumped over, spirit broken, and an ever present frown of discomfort upon his features.

Alas, he had betrayed many on that fateful day to save his own skin. But his hide he did save,
and in doing so, made his new home within The Clergy of Ruska.
He did not take pride in his actions the night before.
However, he was satisfied to have been granted mercy in the eyes of The Creator.

As he tended to such holy businesses at The Prelates side, the eyes of fellow clergymen pierced him.
Distrust nearly seeping from their collectively narrowed eyes.
Mason began to wonder whether his decision had indeed been justified.
Would this be his end?
Or a calm before the storm?
Nevertheless, his next move he did plan from the Prelates side.
- - -                    - - -
+=                    =+=                    =+=+=+=                    =+=                    =+

[Heff 2460]

Meanwhile a breeze rolls through Malinor.

[Lark 2227]

Meanwhile in the deepest parts of Krelmstad, a messenger enters a circular stone room with the outer parts arranged with torches. In the center of the room stands a few men in grey cloaks, and a taller, sooty looking man in a black cloak speaking to them.

 

 

The messenger bends to a knee in front of the group and speaks, "M'lord, the dominion has started rebelling!" 

 

The man with the black cloak scowls at this news and gestures for the gray cloaked fellows to part ways so he may approach the messenger. He looks down upon him with a cold indifference in his eyes. 

 

"These fools..do they not know the power of the Lark side?"

 

The messenger looks back up at the man with confusion on his face, "The-The Lark side m'lord?"

 

The black cloaked man shakes his head, "Never mind, I have things to prepare, leave us."

 

The messenger nods quickly, "At once m'lord." He makes a hasty exit, unsure of what just happened.

 

The black cloaked man turns to the grey cloaked men and chuckles, "It appears our time nears..our order shall soon make its appearance.."

[bickando 3967]

A man in a tattered red scarf comes to the Eventide Dominion's castle long after the clergy leaves. "Huh." he says before slowly walking away.

[Heff 2460]

Meanwhile in the deepest parts of Krelmstad, a messenger enters a circular stone room with the outer parts arranged with torches. In the center of the room stands a few men in grey cloaks, and a taller, sooty looking man in a black cloak speaking to them.

 

 

The messenger bends to a knee in front of the group and speaks, "M'lord, the dominion has started rebelling!" 

 

The man with the black cloak scowls at this news and gestures for the gray cloaked fellows to part ways so he may approach the messenger. He looks down upon him with a cold indifference in his eyes. 

 

"These fools..do they not know the power of the Lark side?"

 

The messenger looks back up at the man with confusion on his face, "The-The Lark side m'lord?"

 

The black cloaked man shakes his head, "Never mind, I have things to prepare, leave us."

 

The messenger nods quickly, "At once m'lord." He makes a hasty exit, unsure of what just happened.

 

The black cloaked man turns to the grey cloaked men and chuckles, "It appears our time nears..our order shall soon make its appearance.."

Meanwhile Lark is actually walking around as a hermit, with his force powers stripped away by Bod. Bod now controls the Lark side and has taken over the Empire Of Steelwall, renaming it The Empire Of Sugar.

[Lark 2227]

Meanwhile Lark is actually walking around as a hermit, with his force powers stripped away by Bod. Bod now controls the Lark side and has taken over the Empire Of Steelwall, renaming it The Empire Of Sugar.

Bod did no such thing.

[3Pac 104]

*Dion takes the advice given to him from Lord Inquisitor Viktor and begins to pack his belongings from his bunk chest within the Eventide Castle. He would take with him only the bare necessities for quicker and easier travel. He changes out of of his Eventide robes, and into his comfortable travelling gear. He double-checks the ruin, making sure not to forget anything important before leaving the area. He starts down the path towards the Cloud Temple, trying to figure out an actual reason as to why the Eventide have been branded heretics. Thoughts of his new enemy, his ex Rose-brother, Prelate Zacarias, occupy his mind.  As he nears the split in the path between the road to Malinor and the Cloud Temple, Dion begins to realize that the Eventide have been branded heretics not because of their apparent lack of faith to the Creator, which is completely false, but because they refused to join the men who attacked the Eventide. Men who claim they are the Church. Dion continues down the path, hoping to take refuge in the Cloud Temple as it becomes visible from where he is, waiting for the day that he and his Eventide-brothers have the opportunity to speak with Princess Horen.

 

((Great event! I'm really looking forward to the RP that this will lead to! :DDD))

[calculusdesola 1658]

*Dion takes the advice given to him from Lord Inquisitor Viktor and begins to pack his belongings from his bunk chest within the Eventide Castle. He would take with him only the bare necessities for quicker and easier travel. He changes out of of his Eventide robes, and into his comfortable travelling gear. He double-checks the ruin, making sure not to forget anything important before leaving the area. He starts down the path towards the Cloud Temple, trying to figure out an actual reason as to why the Eventide have been branded heretics. Thoughts of his new enemy, his ex Rose-brother, Prelate Zacarias, occupy his mind.  As he nears the split in the path between the road to Malinor and the Cloud Temple, Dion begins to realize that the Eventide have been branded heretics not because of their apparent lack of faith to the Creator, which is completely false, but because they refused to join the men who attacked the Eventide. Men who claim they are the Church. Dion continues down the path, hoping to take refuge in the Cloud Temple as it becomes visible from where he is, waiting for the day that he and his Eventide-brothers have the opportunity to speak with Princess Horen.

 

((Great event! I'm really looking forward to the RP that this will lead to! :DDD))

((You should have joined with us :~( ))

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

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