Cryptic

The Patriarch of the d'Artagnan, saw the missive in his travels in the Empire. Seeing one of the listed names, a familiar one at that, he decided to write a personalized letter, reaching out.

[!] A letter was given and sent to all of Idunia’s royalty. A PROCLAMATION FROM HOUSE D’ARTAGNAN Written on the 12th of Sun’s Smile, Year 271 of the Second Age. TO THE MOST ESTEEMED CROWN AND ROYAL COURT OF IDUNIA, Let this declaration stand as a record and intent. House d’Artagnan commits its holdings, reserves, and logistical reach to the Crown of Idunia in support of the coming war. What we offer is tangible and prepared. Our stores include forged iron and other hardened materials, as well as strategic quantities of rarer war-grade resources, including daemonsteel-class alloys. We further provide siege and support materials such as copper, lapis, and coal, all ready for refinement into arms, armour, and fortifications as command requires. These resources are secured and can be delivered at the Crown’s direction. In addition to material supply, House d’Artagnan places its treasury at the Crown’s discretion to ensure continuity and readiness throughout the conflict. Should His Highness, Crown Prince Pharazon, require a direct release of silver, it will be made available without delay or condition. This declaration is offered plainly. Idunia will not enter this war unprepared. Where House d’Artagnan commits its strength, shortages are answered before they take hold. When our resources reach the forge, the Crown’s will is carried into steel and stone. Let this serve also as notice beyond the Kingdom’s borders. To those who would test Idunia’s resolve, including the Orcish hosts and the Dwarven powers now aligned against the Crown, understand this clearly: the forges are supplied, the coffers are steady, and the Kingdom stands ready. Those who seek to endure longer than Idunia will find that preparation, not patience, decides such contests. To the Sword of Owyn, Sir Frederick Euler: As per your recent announcement, these materials are placed under your authority, along with the Prince. See that they are used with purpose and without hesitation in service to the Crown. It should be understood that this contribution does not represent the full extent of House d’Artagnan’s capacity. Further reserves remain secured within our holdings and will be released during the war, or after its conclusion, as the Crown deems necessary, so that Idunia’s strength is not only preserved, but reinforced in victory and beyond. [!] A visual of the coffers of House d’Artagnan that had been given to Idunia Glory to Idunia, House d’Artagnan SIGNED, Bârathân d’Artagnan, The Patriarch of House d’Artagnan, Steward of Idunia

AVE IMPERIUM

Marching and ever-forwards, the Eidolan Samurai cleansed his blade after the long battle, now moving to the side of Azrul as he gave a bow. A sign of deep respect from where his former soul resided and a rare gesture from Shuten-doji

Brentan d'Artagnan saw the report and nodded, "More naval training and activity are important. We must control the seas, Idunia demands it." Then, the Patriarch returned to his home, restoring a newly found glaive from the Marauders.

[!] A letter was given and sent to all of Idunia’s royalty. A DECLARATION FROM HOUSE D’ARTAGNAN Written on the 20th of Sun’s Smile, Year 270 of the Second Age. TO THE MOST ESTEEMED CROWN AND ROYAL COURT OF IDUNIA, We write with respect and humility to formally introduce ourselves as House d’Artagnan, a newly arrived family within the Kingdom of Idunia. Though our name is not yet counted among the noble houses of the realm, it is our sincere hope that through service, loyalty, and honest effort, it may one day be worthy of such recognition. We offer our sincere apologies for our absence from the recent Royal Court. Our delay was due to obligations beyond the capital, as our family works to establish itself through trade and commerce. These duties kept us afield, though never disengaged from the well-being of the Kingdom. House d’Artagnan comes from a mercantile background, with modest experience in military service among our members. We understand both the value of resources and the cost of conflict. As such, we formally swear our allegiance to the Crown of Idunia and pledge to assist the Kingdom through funding, supplies, and logistical support for the current war effort and for the realm’s continued stability. We ask for no favour beyond the chance to prove our loyalty through action. With utmost respect and reverence, House d’Artagnan SIGNED, Brentan d’Artagnan, The Patriarch of House d’Artagnan

The Dragon-Squire stood bloody and proud on the battlefield. Thankfully, it was not his own Waldenian blood that had left the mark in his plated, but rather that of greenskins and dwarves, leaving him unmarked and unscathed. Gundahar felt a sense of pride, fighting for Man.

Ezra is so cool

A squire ran towards the gates as he heard one of the town criers speak of the Dragon Knight's name in such passing. Breathing heavily from his rush and commotion, Gundahar struggled to comprehend the Knight's death. In fact, he had just done a patrol with him searching for hellspawn and evildoers. It seemed the squire was too late. Such an idea, a frown was seen on his face, clearly disappointed in himself. "He was the most handsome Dragon Knight I knew." The squire thought to himself, finally.

Upon riding his Berkhoven Standard Warsteed, Gundahar saw the caravan and the missive upon it. Reading it, he felt an adventure was to come. With a swift kick of his mount, he rides to find friends and trusted allies to join him in this escapade, as the newly appointed squire longed for a challenge.

The Eidolan Samurai returned to his domain, bathing in the ectoplasm pool as if recovering from his previous bout. A searing pain could still be felt from the stony shoulders and back of Shuten-doji. Perplexed by its effect, he wondered who or what could have dealt such damage to him. Little did he know, it was Sir Abaraham's flames who were responsible for this scorching chip of his body. With that, he simply cleaned his odachi with his forearm, ready to haunt more souls across Azuras.

A folktale of the price of an unfinished blade [!] Shimaku failing to save his Lord Samurai. Long ago, when Sakuragakure was quieter, and the sakura bloomed a little closer to the ground, there lived a man named Shimaku, a retainer born on Ōskunoshima. On this great island, people believed spirits listened carefully to every promise made. Shimaku was not a famous warrior. He was not written into songs. But he served his lord faithfully, standing behind him in rain and sun, believing that was enough. In those days, Shimaku thought loyalty alone could carry a man through life. Then came the night he failed. When danger found his lord, Shimaku was there—but not enough. Steel struck where it should not have, and by dawn, his lord was gone. Shimaku lived, kneeling in blood-soaked earth, unable to understand why his hands still moved when the man he served no longer breathed. In his grief, Shimaku did what tradition demanded. He prepared for seppuku, washing, kneeling, and steadying his breath. He told himself this was the last duty he could fulfill. But when the blade touched his skin, fear crept in. Not fear of pain, but fear of ending—of never being forgiven, of never being understood. His hands shook. His resolve broke. Shimaku remained alive, ashamed and hollow, as the sun rose on a world that no longer had a place for him. It was then, they say, that others found him. [!] The ‘spirits’ that took Shimaku. @jqsmlne @Curry Evil spirits, some say they were Oni who spoke of purpose where none remained. They did not ask if Shimaku wished to follow. They took him, carrying his shame into rites older than mercy. When Shimaku returned, he was changed. His body became a pale, stone-like figure, tall and heavy, like a statue forgotten by time. His face was simple, unfinished, yet marked with anger that never faded. The spirits gave him a new name—Shuten-dōji—for Shimaku was no longer the man he had been. Now, Shuten-dōji walks the roads of Yorumachi and Kurai-Kuni, neither alive nor truly dead. He does not seek praise or redemption. He carries an endless hunger—not for food, but for meaning, for the peace he once believed honour would bring. They say he watches those who break their oaths, who abandon their duties, who turn away when others depend on them. He does not strike in anger. He strikes as a reminder. So when parents tell this story to their children, they do not speak only of punishment. They say: Be brave when it is hardest. Keep your word, even when no one is watching. Because living with regret is a heavier burden than dying with honour.

Gundahar von Berkhoven was given the missive. Upon reading it, he only said, "Signing their own death sentence," as he crumpled up the paper and began to look for the culprit.

Gundahar looked at Jude.

"EMPEROR HADRIAN NOOOOOO!" Gundahar exclaimed as he tried jumping for the shot, but failed.

Gundahar von Berkhoven stood drenched in the blood of orc and dwarf alike, the spoils of a hard-fought and decisive victory clinging to his armour and blade. As the war host marched beneath the gates of the fallen capital, he lifted his gaze to the banners overhead, a rare and resolute smile breaking through the grime of battle. Steel rang as he raised his weapon in salute. "AVE IMPERIUM!" the Guardsman proclaimed, his voice echoing through the conquered streets like a victory hymn. With deliberate care, Gundahar wiped his blade clean, letting the remnants of the enemy spill onto the stone below. His thoughts turned not only to triumph, but to the men beside him — his brothers-in-arms of the infantry, the very division in which he had fought. They had held their ground with discipline and patience, unmoved by fear, and when the call was given, they surged forward as one. That push had broken the enemy line and marked the true turning point of the battle. Pride settled firmly in his chest, not for himself alone, but for the company he stood among. Turning from the city, Gundahar set his sights forward once more, already marching toward the next command set before him by the Emperor. “Squireship is close,” he said at last, his voice steady with certainty, and without pause, he pressed onward.

Gundahar marched onto the rendezvous point, prepared for a fight.

Gundahar von Berkhoven knew of Sir Khaleed. To go down this path was unexpected. Either way, the Imperial Guardsman saluted the words of the Emperor. He sought out those within the Order of the Dragon Knights and offered not just his arms and service, but also his loyalty to the cause. "Ave Imperium" He said as he returned to his post, halberd in hand, overlooking the capital gates.

An Inquisitor heard of the resignation. He felt his stomach drop for some reason, then went on about his duties.

Klunk rushed to the nearest tailor in Idunia after receiving the invitation! Though he wondered how he’d fit in one of those tiny robes worn by the highborns. Regardless, he announced at the top of his lungs within the Redeemed Kingdom; “A friend of mine is getting married!”

Good post!

Good post! Not a deadbeat, just lost my soulstone

Good post! 👍