confusedjester

Lilja fears to return to Lotharia after last time… she even promised her mother, and the Bearman, that she wouldn’t return! But she liked silly hats. She crossed her fingers that raiders wouldn’t come this time. ——————————————— The Princess of Ivoria felt her chin. Heilwig enjoyed the warty creatures such as frogs and toads… and perhaps she would make some new friends. The mention of frogs was all she really cared about, however.

The letter came as a shock. Einin had naught a clue what ailed Alice's mind, let alone, how Alice had truly thought about her, in a way that Einin did not... Alice had been her best friend for over a decade, and despite Einin making friends wherever she went-. It was Alice, who she could gossip with, Alice who she could share her woes and achievements, Alice, who she could always talk to. The letter made her stomach churn. Einin lowered to the corner of her bed, curling her hands and hoping, praying that Alice may return one day. In the meantime, Einin mourned.

Penned by Lady Eínín-Alweth Emgiliana Amaranth-O’Rourke —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Perseverance. Obedience. Justice. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- These are the tenants of the Elendâri. Perseverance, to protect the blood of your people, the people of Numendil, the sanctity of yourselves and to vow OUR BLOOD OVER ALL. Obedience, to respect and obey, to learn from those above you, honor yourself, and honor them. GOD and your kingdom will lead your life to the Light. Justice, to sentence the damned to death, to be the executioner of Iblees, and bringers of Hope and Peace to your nation. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ OUR BLOOD OVER ALL. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BEGINNING WITH LORD/LADY O’ROURKE OF THE GREEN HAVENS, THE RANKS ARE AS FOLLOWS: CEANNASAÍ OF THE ELENDÂRI KNIGHTLY COMMANDER - Currently: Ser Arthur Marsyr (@The Vulgate Cycle) The Cennasaí of the Elendâri is a Knight chosen for their exceptional skill, their unwavering commitment to their Kingdom, their people, and GOD above. Bestowed upon them are the responsibilities of leading the Levy, executing the faithful orders of the Lord and Lady O’Rourke’s, and remaining everso loyal to the Elendâri. They are to serve as the model of the good soldier, a knight of unshakable perseverance and obedience, the enforcers of justice in the realm. KNIGHTS OF ILDON KNIGHTS OF THE GREEN HAVEN The Knights of Ildon, or ‘Knights of the Green Haven’ are the sworn protectors of the Fiefdom. Well-skilled and memorized in the Code of Chivalry, the Knights of the Green Haven are trained swordsmen, archers, and combaters, tasked with training their squires, bestowing their knowledge and wisdom. The Knights of Ildon are expected to serve Numenost, Ildon, and GOD to the very best of their abilities. SÁIRSNT SERJEANTS These soldiers, the Sáirsnt, are those who are in charge of keeping order and protecting the folk of Ildon firstly. Smaller, yet meaningful tasks are given to the Serjeants of Ildon, to be done with dignity and pride. The Serjeants are aspirants to become greater, to become their most honorable selves. They represent what the Captaen’s strive to achieve. TIARNA CAPTAEN(S) CAPTAIN(S) Tiarna Captaens are aspirants striving to join the ranks of Sáirsnt, following in the loyal footsteps of their higher-ups. Completing tasks for Ildon, training to protect the realm, is the feat born onto the Captaen. Yet, in need of experience, fresh out of their squireships and expected to train and grow with time. DALTAÍ SQUIRES & FOOTMEN Aspirants of Knighthood and all things noble, Daltaí are taken in by a Knight of Ildon by their fourteenth nameday, should they wish to pursue a higher rank in the Elendâri. Squires are optimistic, eager to prove themselves as deserving, loyal, and trustworthy to their peers. GUARDS Tasked with protecting, guarding, and providing for those who seek the haven of Ildon, Guards are easily the most popular around Ildon. Given the responsibilities of protecting the commonfolk, standing guard, patrolling the streets and keeping a watchful eye out for signs of lurking evil and criminals to poach. RECRUITS Yet to prove themselves, Recruits are exposed to religious and physical trainings, to prepare themselves for the long road of growth ahead. Recruits do not last in this stage for long, as those who truly desire a future in Knighthood will be eager to prove themselves and will succeed in showing their skills quickly. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ House Armor —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Enlistment —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Through the Radiant Guard of Numenost, you can enlist in the Elendâri of the Knightly Order of Ildon. Joining the Knightly Order of Ildon will grant double the pay, unlike other Orders and a discount of rent if you LIVE in Ildon by 50%. To those who wish to Enlist, send a bird/DISCORD DM to Lady Maeril-Emgliana, High Ladyship of Ildon, (@CallyI) Ser Arthur Marsyr, Knight Commander of the Elendâri, (@The Vulgate Cycle) Lady Eínín-Alweth, Heiress to House O’Rourke of Ildon, (@confusedjester)

Lilja watched Varg blow a horn, so she took out a conch shell she had stowed away and followed suit, wallowing her walking crutches in the air!!! “RAHHH!!!” Though on the inside she was panicking. Running and fighting wasn’t exactly possible for Lilja now… but she would go all the same!

Lilja, who now had an unfortunate limp, grumbled at the missive. She joined anyway out of spite, so she could constantly remind Varg about how he crippled her.

Murt stared down at the missive, except she couldnt read. She tore it up and fed the scraps to her overweight pet chicken, Bokbok.

As the blood of Arthur was painted onto her young face by the hands of Bahku'Lur, having been taken in by the Horde only hours before, was the gob-child Murt raised high in Grugmak's arms. The moonlight reflected off her yellow-hued saucers, as she then stared down at her newfound brethren who cheered her name. Foreign pride crept across her face, a lopsided, sheepish smile on Murt's countenance. Unaware of what she had truly done- death, murder, and war, all concepts unknown to the child, did Murt merely wipe the crimson from her face with scrappy sleeves, and ride to her new home on the jade-orcs' steed. She spent the evening being rewarded with cookies, stew, and dancing away to the jovial music of the tavern- giving the events of the night naught a second thought.

After receiving a somewhat... disturbing letter from a certain Alban, Einin hastily penned a letter to a friend. She laid awake that night, watching the window, awaiting the arrival of a pigeon. As the minutes turned to hours, and no pigeon, Einin rose from her bed, kneeling beside it and praying.

Lilja stared at the missive- and how the first requirement was.. to be.. brave. Lilja gulped- but her FOMO was stronger than any irrational fear she carried, she hastily ran off to find her mother to sign her up!! @Parasolii

Elsii'mah read the missive then. "Aw SHUCKS, there go my WORLD-DOMINATION with EVIL VOIDSTALKING AND DEMONIC MAGIC plans.." She snapped her fingers and slapped her knee, having zero clue what she had just said herself. The completely-mundane elf huffed aloud- then a, "Eheh." As she sauntered to the Holy See to be a bother for her own amusement.

Her brother. Valarie was known to be crude, calloused- apathetic, accepting of some and renouncing others. When Louis first arrived to Numendil, Valarie treated him coolly- but he merely grinned at her, lofting a wave upon her passing. He didn’t care that she was temperamental- a small, unruly ball of wild emotions and even wilder actions. He tolterated her antics- and even encouraged them. She felt welcome as she was. Valarie wanted nothing more than to be just like him.- to make him proud- her big brother, who her heart adored. She told Lou of her hopes and dreams and insanely impossible life goals- yet he met them with a, “I believe you can do it.” And she retorted then, guaranteeing him that he would have a new vineyard, and they, together, would sell the greatest wines. Yet, Lou told her that was not his truest dream for his life. Valarie never found out what lingered behind his veiled hopes. Grief was a stranger to the young Vourkehardt. Her grandfather had passed a mere year ago, but it was different this time. Her grief for her grandfather had been shrouded by confusion. Valarie didn’t understand back then. Now she did. It hurt all the worse. Like a dagger had been stabbed through her heart. It was painful, and it ached. Valarie Vourkehardt swore she would never cry, yet that day, she wept in her fathers arms, mournful, anguished sobs catching in her throat. What was once rigid, now turned fragile. The slightest look, the quietest murmur, would break her.

Einin picked at her cast from the broken arm she had suffered during the 'Constantine-Execution-Attempted-Coup' scuffle. However the one name, Ukuaal, stuck out to her. "Wasnt she just bein' subjected t'her bloodlust?" Einin cranked a brow, but otherwise, she cared naught, and felt quite proud of herself for aiding in the protection of the Holy Ser Peter, and the Young Prince Bo.

Valarie Vourkehardt stared down at the poster, everso concerned for her dear friend Louis. Lou, a man whom she considered close, like an older brother, like family!, wanted… DEAD or ALIVE?! Valarie took to chewing at her nails- and went to pen a hasty letter. She couldn’t lose someone else she loved. Not again.

Anneliese was meant to die that very night. She had signed her journals… prepared farewell letters. At last, there would be silence. Her letters carried apologies, extended gratitude, and expressed deep sympathy. A terrible sob escaped her as she wrote. 'Dear Father...' Her quill traced trembling lines across the parchment—apologies for her inability to endure, for not saying thank you more often, for the burden she believed herself to be. Once sealed, the letters were gently placed atop her desk. ----------------------------------------------- That evening, Anneliese made her way to the clinic, intending to craft salves and tinctures—a soothing ritual, a final act that brought her troubled mind a fleeting sense of calm. But the peace shattered. The sharp echoes of hurried footsteps, choked sobs, desperate cries for help—pierced the quiet. Her distant gaze turned toward the stairwell as her brother, Viago, descended with the limp form of a Vourke in his arms—still helmed. She rushed, breath catching, toward the surgical room. Her father lay upon the table. His skin sallow, his face rested, a gaping wound piercing into his abdomen. Lifeless. Anneliese stared, frozen. She had lost her father once before. It couldnt- be..- happening- again. It couldnt. It wouldnt- no. It couldnt be. Her lower lip trembled, her breathing frayed into shallow gasps. Her hands hovered above his body as though she might will the life back into him by sheer will. But he remained still. --------------------------------------------------- The sobs of her brother—of her son—filled the room, each one a shard driven deeper into her breaking heart. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she gently pressed her palm to his stubbled chin. "Oh… Father," she whispered, before reciting a prayer in an ancient tongue—soft, sacred. There was no time to grieve. Voices still cried out from beyond the clinic’s doors. The world demanded her, and so she returned to her duty. -------------------------------------------------------- Later, she collapsed. Truths she had buried fell from her lips—raw and unrelenting. That she was going to die that night- that it had been planned, before the chaos. But it was the chaos that saved her. She came to the hard realization- that her death, her self-inflicted demise,-—had it been her body on that table, her son’s wails would’ve been tenfold in anguish, saturated in sorrow. It was her father’s death that tethered Anneliese to life. She would not surrender. She would not abandon those who still needed her. She would endure—because that was her father’s final wish. And she would not follow him to the Skies. Never. With that, she made her vow. Baldric— and her son—became the wellspring of strength she so desperately needed. Yet another gift from her father… one she’d never have the chance to thank him for. -------------------------------------------------------- Valarie stared at the box in the cathedral. "..Vhat is zhat.." She lacked any understanding as to why her aunts were crying over a BOX, of all things. ...Of course, the box she later found out- was a casket. A casket, containing her.. grandfather. Valarie continued the day after finding out of her grandfathers passing in a daze. Everyone was sad.. and she felt utterly confused. Death was foreign concept to her.- but he died fighting. And that scared her. Her father was a warrior! What if the next time he left to fight, he never returned home? What would she do?! A panic arose- as she practically BEGGED her father to RETIRE, NEVER TO TOUCH A SWORD AGAIN! Upon his refusal, Valarie went to cry alone in her bed- anxiety risen, as she worried for her fathers untimely death on the battlefield.

Einin blinked.

Einin worried for Aurus, and the Greyes.- yet such outcome was something she assumed- something she knew would happen, regardless. Tears befallen, as she crumpled the missive in frustration, throwing it away. The End of the South was inevitable. ------------------------ Valarie, on the other hand, couldnt wait for war. "VOURKEHARDT RAHHHH1!!11!" She also double-checked that her father did not put the cart before the horse.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Nothing gold can stay.” It ended within the forest- the home of the Finch. She went for a mere walk, the scent of honey and lemons in her wake, trailing through the grass, weaving through the trees. A pep in her step, her robes dragging across the soft soil. A smile on her face, as it always was. A happy, goodly soul, the Finch was, who walked in the footsteps of GOD, and no other. Then… A crunch of a branch, made the Finch's head swivel- her ears twitch, her eyes blink. Studying the forest Keenly. Looking for something- the culprit of the noise. Nothing. The Finch continued on, then… flicking her wrist, as she withdrew a text- a tome- that of which, its golden scratches, glittering in the noonish sun. The Holy Scrolls, within the peace of GOD’s creation- it was her favorite place to read. Secluded, untouched by the Sins of Man that haunted the outside. The Finch found a tree, sitting against the coarse wood, opening the tome, and beginning to read. Amidst her reading, did she write in a journal beside her.- notes within the margins. A CRUNCH! Louder, this time, that broke the serenity of the thickets. Her ears perked again. She rose her visor from the tome, a hand adjusting her mantilla, as she called out to the spirits that perhaps haunted this particular patch of world. “Whos.. whos there!” The Finch chirped aloud! Yet met with silence, once again. The Finch was no stranger to nature- to the forest,- she grew up here. Raised by the greenery, the flowers, the birds. It bred delusion, such a youth. The Finch truly believed she was a goldfinch, that much was true- She believed her wings would come one day, yet they never did. She concurred that the wings she so deserved would come when she needed them most. —-------------- Her shoulders hunched, as she slowly took to stand. Then, a quick whistle of stone cutting air- did an arrow, strike her straight through the chest! A gasp, a gape, the Finch fell to her knees, clutching her heart- crimson soaking her robes, the humble, Wooden Lorraine, hanging loose from her neck. Her feet scuffled as she went to stand, to run, to flee! Where were her wings? Why hadnt they come! Surely, she must fly away! That similar, wind-piercing noise, as another loosed, imbedded itself into her back. Her heart, as big as it was, was hard to miss. Her soul, as bright as it was, made an easy target. A final utterance, that only the breeze could hear. And no wings came, as the Finch fell. A final, warbly birdcall, twiddling from her lips. Julia’s GODLY digits, that of which displayed her blessing from the Heavens, and given by the Angel of Benediction- a mark she carried with absolute humbleness, yet HOLY PRIDE… The ivory swirled; the symbols danced- yet… danced no more. The white of the fingers faded to dust- the blessing, traveling with her Soul to the Skies, leaving her mortal hand, without digits once more. Julia laid in the grass, soaking it with her humanness. Nature did not care. The grass swayed in the wind- the leaves rustled with the breeze. The Birds sang in the trees. The Vassal of Goodness returned to her Creator once more. IMPORTANT!!!!1!11!111: OOC:

"Did I not tell the Regiment multiple times that those guys were clearly lying about wanting to help us, just so they could get into the city?" Elsii'mah mused in crude reply- then a scoff. "Idiots.." The girl then threw the missive into the wind!

"Oh, surely, ja, I shall go out to dinner with you.." Mused Anneliese, upon their second, or perhaps third, greeting. Dean had been utterly relentless in his pursue- yet Anne reaped the depression still, of Marius. However, did she feel quite charmed at Dean's perseverance- she found him odd, but funny. Silly, something attractive, however she merely waved him off. It wasnt until she vowed that she would help this poor, lonely soul find a woman, that she began to like him herself... He understood her, and she him. Anneliese feared marriage- that commitment- and alas, Dean understood. They loved each other, truly. It was comforting to know- a reassurance, that Anne was still worthy of it. Worthy of love. He made her feel seen- important- And when she was with him- it was like nothing else in the world mattered, except for them, in that moment. ------- Anne wept, horrible, anguished sobs, amidst her chambers- mourning him, and what could've been. The trips they were to take. The things they wished to see. It seems they would never get to have that picnic.

As Anneliese walked toward the gate- eyes befallen the large construct as it dumped the cold, dead body of her beloved, Dean. A shriek fell from the woman's mouth, and frantic demands to her son to drag the body inside. The body, flesh hanging from bone, his skeletal hand was wrapped in a smooth stone. Tears fell then from the Vourkehardt's iris, then a sob, and a whine- placing her head upon the now veiled carcass, and weeping.

"Maybe.. maybe Ea just- didnt hear them right-" The O'Rourke's eyes glittered amongst the sinking sun- a quiet sob wrenching from her as she began to weep upon the shoulder of the aged Ser. "Ea- Ea was just.. just with her- Ea didnt get t'show her mea ocarina- Ea didnt get-" Einin drawled, another, solemn cry leaving her. She spoke naught anymore. Tears filled her irises. Salt, falling from her gaze. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was later that eve, in the shroud of the starlight, did Einin stand beneath the White Tree Caladhril. Her ocarina, resting within her pallid mitts. She played a mournful, Celtic tune. One that she prayed would reach her dear Auntie Noruiel in the Skies. song v

Julia prayed for the success of the new Princep!