Nouveau_Chateau

I'm late but happy Easter, Christ is King :)

Lord John Ronald d’Maltose would adorn his ceremonial armor and sheathe his recently sharpened blade. He approaches the soldier speaking to the duke. "GOD bless, we are ready."

10,000 dead MOJ agents

VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII VIVA LA MERCATORII

maltamoss is next!!!!!!!11111111

Roko Ein Aryskiy reads over the missive with members of his company. "Deus Vult, Brothers."

"War it is lads, Deus Vult." A Handia remarks from the fields of Acre.

A Skavik sharpens his sword as he gets ready to thrive once again.

"Maybe Baerte'll gain some friends." A levyman remarks as he stands watch.

Ezio Marquez supports the Lord's Hood.

Ezio Márquez would read over the document briefly before remembering a document his adoptive father, Father Melquíades, had shown him in his younger years. He too, recalls the Hyspian Diocese settled in the South under Owyn III. "Melquíades would surely find this amusing.. Hyspians labelled outlaws, by foreign refugees from Oren."

But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

Captain Daquavious Jebediah Figglebottom of the Jessianites disapproves of the tyrannical rule of Bipip Bopoli. He is ready to free his homelands from the sub-human Jusstian and Jurtian overlords with his weapon Trabiloingous!

Captain Daquavious Jebediah Figglebottom of the Jessianites grasps his trusted weapon Trabiloingous and prepares for the assault. He is finally prepared to bring the tyrannical Bipip Bopoli's rule to it's end.

Ezio Márquez would read the declaration with a smile. "Ave Westfall."

Ezio Márquez would mutter to his Captain, Winchester. @Gambit "To think we had time for this along with everything else done today."

Ezio Márquez would read over the Bulla with a smile covering his face. His father had succeeded in becoming the Bishop of Reinmar, something he had long worked towards.

Let's get a home run baby!

An old battle-scarred Mercatorii man took up the letter in his hand. After briefly glancing over it, he reminisced over his violent and agonizing campaigns against Oren. He remembered what had been accomplished, and skimmed over the missive once more. A small grin grew across his face as the time seemed inevitable. "Viva Mercatorii, Amarentzat!"

"Gentlemen. The Holy See has just been attacked.. I do believe it's time we leave the crippled Ministry be and direct our much unneeded but necessary attention on something more worthwhile. The pagans shall pay within Holy Fire." A certain veteran who also loved to burn things would state to his comrades around him, looking each of them in the eye as some terrorist tomfoolery would probably ensue. Regardless of whatever antics would ensue, some searching was needed to be done. @chacmul@mosscowi@megavoltar@Viraj Dobrial@FranzFerdinand

There sat the 'traitor' in his dead brethren's eyes. He had done what was needed to save not himself but the MRA as a whole. He valued his men more than a dead one that of which a lunatic was in shambles to find. Willing to throw hundreds if not thousands into perilous situations just to find a hint of his existence. Upon hearing the news of his beloved friend, Prüsian Ksiæzect's disappearance, his once cheery and bright smile dripped to a frown. A crippling one at that. "Till death do us part. That was the oath he swore me under. And it appears that may have been taken in a literal fashion as it was with Prüsian. What drives a man so mad to wish death upon himself or others to find nothing but a dead corpse that of which we've known has been dead for years. I'm baffled, Where is he to go? To find the corpse himself to only return to us with his sorrows of the truth the hardliners could not comprehend? To die trying? To kill someone in the search of it?" The man had many more questions to ask but alas he couldn't bring himself to say them. He was a tough man, but when it came to his beloved friends and the Handia who turned him into what he was today. To that he'd shed a tear. The Marshal would stand up from his seat, his steadily shaking hands finding himself a drink to attempt to calm his nerves, but to no avail. The bottle would gently be placed back down upon the ledge where it was rightly taken from. The Mercatorii veteran would go back to his favorite chair, slumping down in it as a temporary state of depression would kick in. His Handia, His veteran friend who'd saved his life and vice versa, His mentor, His Comrade in arms but most importantly his friend was dead. There could be no other explanation as to the ex-Handia's disappearance more simpler than he had died. And it would be one of the fates they'd all come to expect to arrive soon. He didn't want to bear a burden that his friend could still be alive, that his mentor could still be endlessly searching for a dead man who'd tell no tales. And the shaky hands of the man would reach over for his Cross of Lorraine, and he would sign it for his fallen comrade. The man's trembling voice would state something beneath his breath. "May we meet again Prüsian, in the seven skies."

why wasnt i invited to the mra beach episode

The aging veteran of the Mercatorii sat across from Petrovich. His head rested on his hands, his elbows rested on the table, and his burdens rested on his head. His mind was only racing more and more, even though they hadn't done much in a good long while. His mind would keep acting up until it was interrupted by Petrovich's abrupt statement. It surely wasn't his old desk, but it was worthy of replacing it. The Marshal of the Mercatorii picked up the missive, going to reach for the lantern. However this wasn't his old desk, and thus the lantern wasn't present where it aught to be. The stack of missives, the lantern and all the other items were still at his desk. Regardless of this, he looked over the parchment. Once, then twice, then a third time. As he arranged his thoughts, he spoke. "This is the same woman that talked to us in Oren.. The one who stated we branded and killed children.. I'm almost completely, utterly sure that this is exaggerated. Sure some of it may be true, but it must be exaggerated.. And what happened to Oren being the Viper of the South? These people.. are surely difficult to understand. I leave it up to Morado for his word." And with that the Marshal slid the missive over to what he considered one of his closest comrades along with Petrovich. The unstable man's hands shook slightly as the paper was slid across the carpentry, his condition continued to manipulate him. Nonetheless he looked to Morado, and then to Petrovich. These two had served with him through thick and thin, and now it was up to them to decide what to make of it as their Handia was off.. Somewhere. @mosscowi