T H E   A C R E A N   L E V Y
Hicest Nos Manere

No Kings But Us.

Preamble

Pre-Harvest Revolution.
 

     The Acrean Levy, formed in 1878, originally a much smaller force, typically only used to patrol the forest of Acre, assembled to deal with the bevy of supernatural, monstrous, and murderous elements said to cure those hallowed woods. Though, as the mass immigration of foreigners, merchants, refugees, and other such souls blessed or cursed by fate, the levy swelled in size and ability.  By the time of the War of the Silver Isles, it quickly became the premier levy in the Kingdom of Oren, led by the Baron, Sir Gustaf de Vilain. 

      Upon the declaration of war, and formation of the EATO and USSA, the Levy was fully mobilized by order of the crown and deployed to nearly every front of the war. Often being deployed in mass to the home front on the border with the Dwarven Kingdom, and notability was the Acrean infantry seen at the Battle of Acre.  Where they fell victim to the poor generaling of Petran officers. Most obviously when Sir Gustaf’s Acremen were sent out for scouting and counter-cavalry, lightly armed in accordance to their mission, before impromptu being ordered to charge into the advancing lines of EATO forces, causing unnecessary casualties and chaos within the ranks.

      Though, success was found when the Acrean forces were able to function independently from the Vienne Command.  As seen when Sir Gustafs Rough Riders were able to successfully capture the Dwarven King, Bakir Ireheart, after he had fled them on the central roads during an Acrean raid.  The Riders transported the captive back to Vienne where he would later escape.

      Due to continued military failures, deadlock, and needless casualties of Acrean Levymen on all fronts, Castle De Vilain announced the withdrawal of the Levy unilaterally from the war. Within the same year, the Kingdom of Oren surrendered to the EATO. This led the crown to denounce Sir Gustaf, Baron of Acre, and Sir Hannes De Vilain, Father of Sir Gustaf, prior Baron of Acre and Lord Marshall, declaring a bounty, and the both of them outlaws. Following this, the Barony of Acre, alongside the Harvest Lords, declared open rebellion against the Kingdom of Oren, officially marking the beginning of the Harvest Revolution.
 

The Harvest Revolution

      A major benefactor to Acre and her allies was the large military build-up of reservists already home, and the returning battle-tested soldiers from several war-time fronts. Knowing they held the advantage, Acre Command based in Castle De Vilain chose to go on the offensive almost immediately, deciding to use their superior numbers and veteran commanders to continually keep pressure on the Petrans throughout the war.  While simultaneously splitting its forces to harass and skirmish vassals who had remained loyal to the Petrans at the beginning of the revolution, namely the Viscounty of Rivia and the Margrave of Grodno. Though shortly soon thereafter a large Rivian footman patrol was seen headed toward the Alps of Grodno, following was a major raid conducted by Sir Hannes De Vilain and supported by Romstum and Blackvale advisors would capture a large portion of the ruling family of Grodno, with minimal bloodshed, forcing them into neutrality.

      A tactic that would be used repeatedly over the war, with Acrean Levy irregulars slipping into the woods surrounding Vienne and other major Petran Legion outposts.  This would prevent reinforcements from aiding vassals as more elite elements of the Levy conducted raids, either weakening military forces or capturing a lord or lady, forcing said vassals into neutrality.

      The killing of Charles of Rivia signalled a turning point in the conflict, as Rivia had been a provider of the majority of Men-at-Arms who had seen combat against the Harvest Lords. However, with the killing of Frederick I and the nobility of Oren, the war took a sudden turn. Several vassals moved to immediately ally themselves with Acre, provoking a second wave of rebellion against the Kingdom and Crown. The March onto the capital by the total combined forces of the Acrean Levy would be the single highest feat of the war.

      This largely signifies the unofficial end of the war, though legitimate peace would be established once the second raid of Grodno was carried out after a patrol had spotted unusual activity in the region. Though before the warband could enter the fortress, the Chancellor of Oren, the last member of any meaningful resistance against the revolutionaries, unconditionally surrendered to the Harvest forces. Beginning peace talks shortly afterward, the war had finally concluded, and the Kingdom of Oren was dissolved. The Harvest Confederation was formed.

Post-Harvest Revolution

     The Acrean Levy was demobilized shortly after the end of the revolution, and though a brief time of "De-Petranifcation" was conducted, in where the Levy was tasked with the disarming and arresting any brigands and soldiers left who refused to lay down their arms against the Confederacy. Post-revolution has been defined by peace amongst men within the lands that were once ruled by 

Kings.

”Only three thousand?” - Unknown Levymen upon hearing of the bounty set on Sir Gustaf.
 

Rank and Structure

The ranking of the Levy retains efficiency within simplicity, not wishing to clutter itself with bloating titles and unnecessary tangled hierarchy. Choosing to use the beer minimum as to maximize efficiency.

☩ Bailiff of Acre ☩

Bailiff of Acre - Bailiff Otto - The Bailiff is the centrepiece of the law, its enforcer, its judge, jury, and, when need be, its executioner. It is they who determine its course. Although they may appoint subordinates Sergeants to handle certain matters. Serving alongside his men, they are as much a footsoldier as they are a commander and leader to their men.

☩ Sergeant-At-Arms ☩

Sergeant-at-Arms - If the Armsmen are the backbone of the levy, the Sergeants are its limbs, carrying out orders from the brass to the average soldier, commanding smaller units and formations in battle, and relaying orders to the masses of Armsmen. Typically a Sergeant-at-Arms is a veteran rank-in-file soldier who has chosen to extend their service in the name of Acre. Sergeants typically have seen extensive combat and service in the name of the Baron, and have gained their officer experience from combat, not training. Primarily a secondary command, sergeants are viewed as significantly crucial as a middle-ground between the Brass and the everyday soldier, they are a respected and valuable part of the Levy, knowing the brotherhood that bonds each soldier.

☩ Man-At-Arms ☩
Man-at-Arms - The backbone of the levy, by far its most numerous aspect, the bulk of Armsmen in the levy are veterans of wars past, having been the Baron's fist in any conflict. In peace-time, they serve as expert guards and enforcers of the law, ensuring the peace is kept within Acre and its surrounding lands. Comradery and brotherhood are the cornerstones for any Men-At-Arms, with their brotherly bonds found in war often extending past their service, within the fields, wineries, smiths, and pubs of Acre, both active duty and veteran Men-At-Arms can be found exchanging stories of their victories.

☩ Recruit ☩

Recruit - The lowest rank within the Levy, a Levymen typically never retains the , tailored to the specific needs of Acre, prepared on how to ward off the monsters and beasts of the hallowed woods surrounding the Barony.

“I owe our victory to our men, rather.” Hannes De Vilain, upon the success of the Harvest Revolution.

Culture and traditions

The Acrean Levy is made up of many cultures, though prominently is the Sons and Daughters of the Fatherland, Acre, a large portion of Dorfer Refugees and veterans of the Aurelian Brotherhood take up arms within the levy, earning the respect of their peers, as well as influencing the culture of the levy with that of their own. Only those who have proved themselves men of man, distinguished from others of Horens tribe, may say that they have themselves impacted the development of these traditions.

GRIEVANCES DUELS

Though define by comradery and brotherhood, bonds only that may be forged in war, conflict amongst the ranks is bound to occur, given the nature of the levy and its task, soldiers cannot afford become petty and bitter to their brothers-in-arms, therefor the Brass sees fit to approve of grievance duels. An standard duel, in which both combatants are given their standard armour and a longsword, and from their are tasked with combating the other until one party yields, though highly uncommon, death can occur. A priest of whichever faith those fighters may be is typically present.

BATTLE SALTARE

A tradition taken from Dorfer culture, the Saltare typically consist of intoxicated levymen dancing around a lit fire, often with spears in hand, chanting mottos and drinking songs, occasionally wearing bear and other animal pelts on their heads. This practice is mainly done in order to keep moral high for the average rank-in-file infantry man. Though, Sergeants and above are forbidden from taking part in these events 

LEVYMANS GREETING

A custom borrowed from the Aurelian Brotherhood, it is a unofficial custom for once a Levyman has officially become a armsmen to greet his fellow armsmen and higher ups with the thumping of his heart, using a closed fist. It is unclear when this was offically adopted, however it has become a way for the infantry to show their pride of their acceptance into the brotherhood of the few.

“We are here, and we will stay here.” - Common translation of the De Vilain Motto.

Recruitment
 

For those men amongst man who wish to join the Levy of Acre, they must make the trek to Castle De Vilain and contact the nearest sergeant, so that they are given their kit and made an official part of the Levy. For reasons of security, the Levy does not, and will not, accept letter applications. Only those who bravely approach the white walls of the Keep may become apart of the protectors of Acre.

[Coordinates: X:1500 Y:105 Z:-1170]

☩

"Sympathy for the Skavik Devils." The young raider muttered to himself, huddled into a Skavik long boat, brandishing his blooded woodsmen's axe

GODS HOOD MOURNS.
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☨
"Today we lost a real one." High Pontiff Tylos III

Goderyc, he Don Father paced back and forth, distracted, this wasn't his usual self... One of his fellow Priest passed him, of the Hood, of course, throwing up the Cross, he was slow to respond, unusual for the Father, he was contemplating; 'What was he to do once Vienne was raised to the ground?' a city he'd always know, running the streets since he was young, he was 23 now, but will he live to see 24? The way things is goin', he didn’t know... He was caught in thought, thinking of the Hoods future, his pupils, his followers, his homies- "Don Goderyc!" one of his streetmen suddenly cried out, running towards him, Goderyc turned to him, his sharp nose pointing down towards him, perking a brow, "Ops, they're here...!" Goderyc paused, being sucked out of thought, out of his future plans, he turned towards to face the only obvious direction anyone could enter on foot, drawing his crossbow, pointing it sideways, his mind raced... 'Petrans? Feds? Acrenans...? 'Bless ops from South-Side? Worst of all; Deaf people?' only the Don Lord GOD knew what ops awaited these hands once they came into sight, as more of the Don Fathers loyalist bolstered the front of their defense, civilians in carriages and on horseback fled the area, beads of sweat trickled down his face, he thought he heard something- No, he didn't, he turned to take a drag from his cigar, inhaling- "This one's for 'Blees!" Suddenly several passing carriage's doors opened up, bolts flying out from the doors and windows, a drive-by, as Goderycs men went to take cover, a bolt struck the Don Father himself in the shoulder, then in the leg, he screaming in both pain and anger, pulling the lever on his 'Bolt'Throwa,' his crossbow, firing a bolt into the direction of his ops, moving into cover, huffing some premium Haenser crystal to regain his strength, as he reloads and prepared to return bolts to these fools on his street, though as he did, he was struck once more in his thigh, bucking to the ground once more, he turned left, all his men, his homies... Dead... He hastily turned right, it was no better. He prayed, before opening a crate titled 'Exposyves,' shoving whatever he could grab underneath the garment he wore, looking to the remaining crack and other drugs he'd been peddling on these streets, muttering something only the Don Lord will ever know he huffed, he snorted, he took every drug that he could see near him as he lit a cigar, dragging from it before clamping it between his jaws, standing up he began to walk towards the ops who'd now had dismounted or exited their carriages, as they began to fire upon the Don Father, though he was struck, again and again, he kept walking.

"I never met a man like him." Holy Ser David

A bolt to the arm, another to his knee, he trudged forwards to these heretical ops, before another bolt struck his chest, as he fell unto his knees, the 'Blees ops approached what they believed to be his now corpses, as he struggled to move, he looked up to the approaching fools.

"He was certainly, uh, a person." Cardinal Katerina

"He cannot be divided nor made again, and His mysteries are the holy mysteries..." he coughed, blood spitting from his mouth, "No art is alike to His boundless ability.." he took the cigar from his mouth, still alit, he dropped it unto his chest, and in his last few moments of life, he gave on last sermon, "Lo and attend, for I am the Lord GOD, and I am in the foremost part of heaven... Though the spring flower withers and the fruit of the tree fall to the ground, My Word lasts into the eve of the world, and the fruit of virtue cannot rot..." He looked not to the sinners flanking all his sides, but to the blinding brightness of the sun, seeing what was only one thing, the Seven Skies... Reflecting on his life, he remembers only one moment, one defining moment...

"A Father all the homies want to be like.." Unknown spectator
 

The copious amount of explosive he had stuffed into his undergarment ignited, going off, taking these ops with the Don Father, in one last commitment to the Don Lord GOD.

Æthelwulf would tap the hilt of his sword, looking to the East, to Vienne, and the future farmland he'd till once it'd been conquered by Sir Gustaf and his men, "Every man a king..."

10 minutes ago, Elite Snipes said:

V: MEMORIAL BENCH

A memorial bench to commemorate the relationship between Bakir Ireheart and Philip III shall be constructed outside the City of Vienne for weary travellers to rest in their warm embrace.

[!]

Æthwulf of Acre, 'Robynn,' thought back to legendary sketch way-back-when...

"Fathers will not bury their sons... Not anymore." Commented Æthwulf "Robynn" Medford with a sigh, finished letters to families who'd lost their sons it recents skirmishes or patrols, 'at least they'll be the last,' he thought.

"They speak of their ineffectiveness, and how they will matter no in battle, yet then celebrated when they will not be in battle, as if it is a victory? Perplexing..." Robynn of Acre commented, already fed up with war. "I suppose, in the word of the half-men, 'this changes nothing."

"Big if true." Commented Robynn of Acre.

1 hour ago, Elite Snipes said:

Bakir Ireheart chuckles in heathen going off to kill some more Orenians in their homeland. 

Robynn of Acre would wonder if this meant that the dwarven raiders would finally stop running away every time more than ten Orenians stepped out of the gate. Probably not.

Æthelred, obviously having nothing to do because he was wasting his time with this, would be embarrassed for Balian, "were these not the same 'heathens' they invited to summits and defended their alignment with such? No surprise, for traitors loyalties often change." He'd comment.

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The Company of Westmen, Dorfers, and other levies of Æthelred Medford.
Æthelreds Warband.

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We, today, Westmen and Dorfers who have tracked up and down the continent for many years since the dissolution of Arichsdorf, taking up work, or raiding the coast, come together now so we will raise the sword, the pike, the spear, and the bow against the manlets and their Haensermen masters once more. Fredrick I, the visionary, offered peace to this 'NATO,' a name in which itself shows that the Haensers pull the strings, for those who disagree, we must remind you that neither the half-men Urguanites and the terrorist state, Balian, are both in the south, continues to press on now Orenian soil. Even after the Pontiff of the Cannonist Realm declares it so they shall not. To the Orenian Monarch, we swear my life, as did Manfred.

We have great admiration for the Harvest Lords, whom entrap us in reminiscent euphoric dreams of long gone home, the Orenian monarch, whom show us the greatness of new generation of Philip The Great & Manfred The Honorable, and of his Majesties reign. The Warband wishes only for these lords, this King, and the people, to live further in peace, rather than being drawn into war, once more, not has there been twenty years of peace in the continent, due to the sniveling warmongers who puppet and manipulate those possessed by hysteria. The hysteria of half-men, traitors, and Haensermen.

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The Warband prepares to be sent to war.

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TO THE, Terrorists, insurgents, colonizers, and petty 'imperial prince.'
BALIAN, hark for you care not for Orenians, for an Sons of Horen, like in the Brothers' War the realm knows no peace because of your selfish actions.
What was the fate of Peter IV, and will it be your own?
 

TO THE, Manlets, half men, invaders, and 'grand king.'
URGUAN, hark for the Tripartite War, what was the rally of short men, for the number of soldiers under five foot was near smaller than that of your own vassals, which carry your military by far.
What was the fate of those, albeit small amount of, soldiers at Lower Petra, and will it be your own?
 

TO THE, traitors, goat lovers, dwarf lovers, and petty 'prince.'
SEDAN, hark for the Urganite janissaries will no doubt once more serve their masters once more, less common sense for once overcome your people and surrender, and beg for mercy, for a dust storm kicks up more tumbleweeds than that of your levy you may muster.
What was the fate of Leopold, and the 'Royal' Capital of Haverlock, and will it be your own?

Remember Eastfleet, remember Southbridge, remember Stone Tower.

17 minutes ago, GMRO said:

Karl watched a fifth of the Orenian treasury slip away. 

Æthelred watched a Haenser Monarch cope that they lost a bidding war, though, obviously, this would not be the only war they were soon to lose if they continued to act up.

Father Slim dawned a massive golden cross, his men and him confessing and praying to the Don Lord God, while they loaded crossbows for carriage drive-bys... "Sometimes ops gotta be put in line..."

10 minutes ago, ScreamingDingo said:

answer will be eternally no, runesmithing and creator magic have a better chance

Making it so Skaven- I mean, Skaven- I mean, Skaven- I mean, Ratiki are a playable race by players would open up more roleplay for those looking for a better villainy RP, alongside incorporating Ratiki's extensive lore and history into the RP itself. They make amazing antagonists already, however, they're only ever found in ST Events, hindering their effect on the world. Currently, the only time currently Ratiki are mentioned are in Musin apps, and from old Lucienburg (God I loved Lucienburg) post. Not much is really going on with my favorite sub-averaged-sized New York subway rats, and allowing players to, well, play them, would be an amazing rat revival. (Musin don't count) Letting us play the Ratmen instantly opens up several opportunities, that be plague spreading, pillaging in the name of the Rat Emperor, or scavenging and stealing for that loot to supply the Rat Emperor. Ratiki would make natural antagonist characters or interesting characters who struggle to survive in the rat-eat-rat world they live in. Their existence alone gives a reason to RP, both with malice or an attempt to separate themselves from that natural malice of their race.

We can play giant frogs, slightly bigger mice, now give us the almaris subway ratman.

[[RP]]
Full Name: Don Father Goderyc "Slim"
Years of Age: 19
Race: Human (superior)
Pedigree (Noble/Non-Noble): Broke 
Battlefield Experience: Brothers War
Reason for Interest: 'O, Luv me Va'count, luv me Rivia, Luv God

[[OOC]]
Username: AGardenGambit
Discord: CCTV2020#5453

Father "Sim" Goderyc would throw up the Cross for his brother-in-arms, "All my man needs." Smiling, he'd think of all the times he teased Augustus on his prospects of betrothal, still smiling too himself, he'd withdraw his book of matrimony, praying for the young duette.

Lo, in the name of the Lord GOD the Most Merciful, Singular, and Omnipotent, listen and attend with pious heed to this inspired text.

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☨The Seperation of GODs Hood from the Canonist Church.☨

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Father Goderyc, enjoying Hyspias finest crystal export, would walk to the Temple of the Eternal Flame, taking a hammer and his paper, hammering it into the door of the Temple, stepping back he'd stop and pause- Wait, damn that's an Owynist one... He'd shrug, taking his paper down, walking to Haense instead...

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TO the frail Tylos the III.

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While you sit in your WEAK crib up in the north with yo, I slave away in Vienne, to a populous unreceptive to your preaching, maybe that's cus you weak and got no game? Huh, ever think of that, "Tylos III?" Bet you didn't fool.

It is on this ground, I declare that the Lord GODS most honorable and collection of His Hoods - Otherwise known as GOD Gang, or Lords Hood, declare its appearance from the Church of the Canon and that its members not welcome in the Hoods of His Lord, though we, of course, know that you, Tylos III, would never have the gul to step foot in my, His, Hood. You'd sooner cut up with Iblees before putting yourself in danger in the name of any other than yourself. I wish you to recall when you offered me the title of Bishop in Rochefort, and I denied it, that's cus my crew is in Vienne, but you Tylos III, you have no crew. No heart. No game. So I encourage you best protect your neck the next time you and your weak drip even set foot near me, otherwise, you may find a banger in your double chins. You simply use the Holy Mother Church to make bank, not prayers.

-Father Goderyc.

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THE DECLARATION OF THE SEPARATE HOODS OF THE LORD GOD.

☨

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The HOOD rejects the false 'Blees infiltrated Church, clearly, his supposed Holiness has been infiltrated by 'Blees and his devilish crew. Those found reppin' the cloth of the Church will be dropped, cus it's on sight, Tylos. Thinkin' otherwise you're clearly wacked on some green.

The Separate Hoods of the Lord GOD here declares as a loosely structured association of smaller street Chapters, known as Holy Hoods. Each Chapter will elect its own Street Father and generally operates independently from the others. A city itself may have upwards of five Holy Hoods, and these Holy Hoods may have large decrees of autonomy, with the ability to rage Holy Gang War against each other if a major diss is provided to the City Street Father.

That is all I need to preach, gotta keep it simply for you, you know who you is, real ones already know.

You got a problem, Tylos? Do somethin' about it then.

FATHER SLIM OUT.

Unironically could add limitless new types of meaningful rp on top of looking dope. My wine vineyard dreams...

☨

An Open Plea of Assistance directed to his Holiness, Tylos III.

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And all others willings to make way to Vienne to assist us.

"Evil the Lord will free him; Lord, we have trusted in you; free us from this plague. God, you are our refuge; because we have trusted in you, free me from this plague. Salvation: heal the pious, and the pious will be healed; save us faithful, so should we be saved."
Amen.

Your Holiness, in your recent visit to the Royal Capital of Vienne you witnessed the Great Rot's grip on the city. As the Hospital of St. Amyas's Sanctuary fills with ill, dying, and dead, we are overwhelmed by the disease, and though you yourself may claim the plague is divine retribution, the sickness has spread unto the pious and faithful, so it is now they die like the sinners meant to be punished. We at Metropolitanate of Providentia are understaffed, both clerically and medically speaking, we are losing the faithful in mass and their bodies must be buried in mass graves. I beg to you, your Holiness, send unto us more men of the cloth, more faithful who may help us save those afflicted, so these sinners may repent and forever serve the Lord God with their immortal soul, and so the already saved, pious men, may continue to do so. You yourself have seen the suffering on the streets, you yourself have worn the mask to keep yourself safe, you know our suffering, so it is now I ask you to send forth men who will assist in our salvation.

‡
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The City of Vienne is suffering, and though, and the pious mobs who have followed me like any good man to assist in its healing, we are too few men amongst man.

God have mercy on us.

‡
-Father Goderyc.

Free Build bad. For all the reasons listed above. But a more 'laxed settlement application process? Could be cool.

5 minutes ago, itdontmatta said:

my lovely reader

don't call me that

The Father walked out of the Temple in Vienne, the gust of wind from the Dragons wings blowing unto his face. He had just finished a baptism of a Leper. He'd look to the sky.

"I'm going to kill that unholy, idiotic, abominable, Dragon."

He uttered.
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A depiction of two despicable beast fighting
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A PUBLIC LETTER TO HIS MAJESTY, KING FREDRICK I, CONCERNING THE DRAGON OF ALMARIS AND LACK OF DEFENSE FROM THEREFOR OF.

‡

Your Royal Majesty, I, Father Goderyc, request that a proper defense be erected in order to slay the scaled, winged, demonic, and disgusting unintelligent beast. If it could read, which such a brainless beast cannot even understand wording, however in a warped, impossible reality where its rotted mind would even understand basic words, it would see my hate for it. And it would weep. It is so, I hope you understand, however, my mind is not clouded with hate, it is cleared by Faith and love for my fellow Vienners. It is such, that I see it necessary for a 1,350-ton Cannon, with a barrel of 32.5 meters, a width of 7.1 meters, and a height of 11.6 meters.

‡

I present your majesty; the blueprints:

I propose the gun be put upon the top of the Temple of the Eternal Flame in the city of Vienne, where the Petran Legion may always man it, night and day, with a priest in order to bless its crew and ammunition constantly.

‡

God is ever watchful.

☨ -signed humbly, - Father Goderyc

RESUME

Name: Henry

Place Of Origin: Savoy

Background: Born in a water-side village in Savoy, Henry adopted Owynism after believing his Father to have healed from illness after a pilgrimage to Du Loc. Briefly becoming a traveling after the fall of the Savoy, he'd make his way to St. Felders Rock.

Skillset: A decent swordsmen, and a somewhat talented cook.

Reason(s) For Enlistment: A want to serve Owyn.