Geckoo

Leufroy de Savoie smiles :)

https://imgur.com/a/sFsFwVr

A certain Brawm wishes he can brandish his blade for battle.

Who's that bald headed man in the top right of ur picture?

Tournament signup RP name: Andrezj Petyr MC name: GeckoOP What events do you wish to join?: Archery / Melee Are you willing to pay the entrance fee of 10 Mina?: YES :)

"That is vyr first cousin." Andrezj commented.

Andrezj pondered at the thought of Brighthill.

_________________________________________ A NEW DUKE IS CALLED UPON _________________________________________ The recent demise of the former Lord Reutov, Duke Ivan var Ruthern should be of no surprise. With his passing his claim is up for you, the Duchy of Reutov, for your taking. The acceptance of which, not being so simple though, as our lands are under turmoil and war amongst itself. After the receiving of this letter, you must ask yourself in haste which side you stand with in this conflict. It is no secret of which side I stand, brother, the Kingdom of Orenia will reign. Will you carry your blade in our effort? Claim fealty to the Kingdom of Oren and carry this title with pride in our effort, for your people and your life depend on such. If such is not accepted and you decide to dance with the enemy I am sure your father, the former Duke Reutov, will be glad to have you with him. So, Viktor I ask you to think upon this with caution and care as the outcome of your own wellbeing rests within your choices. If you wish to meet your father in the Seven Skies, I will see to such with no remorse or second-thought. Join us, Lord Viktor var Ruthern, Duke of Reutov. _________________________________________ Penned by, Lord Franz Branimar Vladov, Scribe of Barrow’s Crossing SIGNED, Lord Andrezj Petyr Ivanovich, Baron of Cherskavy

The Preamble St. Arpad Ivanovich charges King Frederick Victor Horen’s Marnan forces during the Battle of the Bastion. In this Brothers’ War no hands are left unclean. The Empire of Oren, formerly a great nation of power wielded by such afamed emperors like Ex. Godfrey, Ex. Sigismund, Aurelius Horen and Philip III, has been brought to its knees not by the Tripartite Coalition or the Urguanites, but by the sheer folly of Man itself. I watch as swathes of noble stock pledge their swords to a Usurper who defiles what little Carrion blood yet runs in his veins. Peter the Ignoble, the yellow-bellied, foul-mouthed creature who lets the wicked run amok and allows murderers to walk the streets uncharged. I was the Bastard of Reutov but I am a bastard no longer. My father who would have desecrated the streets of Providence with his pursuit of civil war has been struck dead with the Mace of Krajia that my grandfather, Sir Dima Cato Ivanovich, laid at my feet as he was dishonored not by the machinations of Angelika of Vidaus who killed him; but the ineptitude of the kangaroo court held by Peter the Villainous, Peter the Ignoble, Panicked Petey. I speak not of my misled father and the other vagrants manipulated by this man who could not even hold onto one Empress, no a single one was not enough – he reneged his plea for a Basrid marriage to pursue a more traditional one grounded in his Horenite roots, with the former Archchancellor’s daughter who is too busy eating cake in the palace to show her face for longer than a Saint’s hour once per week. A life to Petey and the Petrine Doctrine is worth 300 minas. Let it be said that I shall finish what those blasting potions started. Except this time, I shall be standing before King Frederick’s court and handing him a meager 300 doubloons to rid myself of the guilt of squashing Petey’s head open like an orange. The degeneracy of this establishment shall be cleansed. The trappings of luxury, stripped away. Long live the Kingdom of Oren! The Declaration Litany of Conversion To the darkness I bring fire. To the ignorant I bring faith. Those who welcome these gifts may live, but I will visit naught but death and eternal damnation on those who refuse them. In lieu of the sickness of my aunt, Lady Vladyslava Ivanovich, Baroness of Cherskavy, it falls to myself Andrezj Ivanovich to take up the mantle of Baron until such a time that she is again healthy. As once my ancestor Ivan Barrow was anointed a Knight of Esheveurd after pledging fealty to the Kingdom of Oren led by King Olivier de Savoie, so too shall I pledge my sword to destroying the Holy Orenian Empire and ushering in a new era of peace, freedom and stability. Forthcoming, House Ivanovich pledges fealty to King Frederick I for the duration of this war and we shall crush the Faux-Imperator Petey’s skull under our boot, much like his namesake. We shall defend New Providence from the Petrine Rebels and with renewed vigor, our Kingdom shall again stand against the tide of traitorous sentiment pushed by these pencil-necked Wigs who would have us submerged in the bureaucracy of their putrid barbaric state, without which we could have survived these multitudes of foreign incursions. Signed, Baron Andrezj Ivanovich, the Bastard of Reutov

Andrezj pondered for a moment before gripping his warhammer and slamming it down upon his table.

Andrezj vomited in his mouth.

I love Orlanth

great skins

Leufroy ponders......................

The Defense of Providence 20th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 1867 The cavalry duel between the Ferrymen mercenaries and the men of Mardon during the Battle of Ferry’s Folly, 1867 The petitions of court had only just been underway when a sharp cry was heard from the front of Providence, ceasing the dull roar that had overtaken the crowds seeking audience with the Emperor. “Enemy at the gates!” The room fell silent, aghast. Today was not supposed to be a day of battle and bloodshed. The Imperial State Army had been dissolved and replaced by the new Imperial Legion only moments before, and the atmosphere of the city had lulled into a peaceful waltz- in part due to the lack of any recent attacks upon the Heartlands. However, with the infamous Ferrymen mercenaries lurking just outside the city, it was apparent to all that a fortuitous battle must be had. The newly-formed Imperial Legion, led by the Emperor and his heir, the Duke of Petra, quickly assembled by the gates. At the front were the freeriders of Mardon, commanded by Andrezj Barrow the Bastard of Reutov, and Edmond de Rouen alongside the heavy cavalry of Blackvale, led by Willem van Aert. The force advanced upon the Ferrymen, making their way to Jarad’s Tavern as the brigands drew back, patiently maneuvering to a vantage point. For a while, the two forces were locked into a skirmish. Abrem Draskovic barked out orders as they engaged in a game of cat and mouse. Neither side seemed willing to commit. However, the dance could only continue for so long, and slowly the Ferrymen made their push. The Bastard of Reutov and his second, Edmond de Rouen, decided now was the time to strike. They shot forth at the front of the cavalry, calling for all with them to charge. Back and forth the battle went on. Push and counterpush. Soldiers from both sides fell, but the numbers of the Ferrymen began to slowly whittle away. Eventually, the Emperor and the Bastard gave the call. “GIVE NO HALT TO OUR ADVANCE, GIVE NO QUARTER TO THE WICKED! PUSH THEM BACK TO URGUAN SO THEY MAY PERISH ON THEIR HOME SOIL!” It was as they spoke. The battered ranks of the Legion, the tiring riders and their horses, the officers hoarse from barking commands, all joined together in the final surge. The remaining Ferrymen broke and were swiftly cut down by the advancing Imperials. Those scant few who survived fled to the hills, regrouping to fight another day. The victorious Imperials returned home to Providence, celebrating their victory and tending to their wounded. The new Imperial Legion’s first test had ended in victory, while the men of Mardon and Blackvale had confirmed their unmatched prowess in the field. However, the conflict had not yet ended, and there would be far more bloodshed to come.