Iulius

Cold winds accompanied one of the birds in the North. The tired form of the Thegn crossed the gates, stained in blood after the long battle at the very heart of the Horde. Like he did every day before going to rest he advanced towards the aviary, to check his letters. "No news, good-". The letter arrived, just at that moment. Iulius unfolded the parchment, going to read through it. And for a moment, his heart stopped. He couldn't believe it, surely he was wrong, it couldn't be. The first who ever called him father, dead. The boy he saw grow up, of whom he was proud, gone. His breath faltered, becoming unsteady. His vision blurred, his mind clouded. He wanted to scream, but no voice came to his mouth. He simply stood still, like a statue. His mouth agape behind his helm. And finally, after a time, he moved to return into his household. He slid to bed, but couldn't sleep. His soul filled with sadness, sorrow and rage. In a final moment of clarity he spoke, with the broken voice of a father which had lost his child: "Rest well, Telemachus. I am proud of you, my son."

It was a peaceful night in the capital city of the Kingdom, the wind gently carrying the rustling of the leaves. The sleeping form of the Thegn laid to the side of his wife, his expression calm despite the worries of the past days. Then his brows furrowed, and the prophecy came. His eyes opened, but there was no terror in them. His muscles were tense, his blood pulsing in his veins. They had harmed his son, causing a fury that even the very moon couldn't quench. He silently stood then, taking his blade to sharpen. A thought dominated his mind: "I will kill them all"

A bird traveled with the missive reaching the woods of Verdrgrad, capital city of the North. There the Thegn was meditating, surrounded by an azure mist which aimlessly gravitated around him. His eyes opened, and he went to recover the missive from the animal. Among erratic breaths a sigh escaped him as he read the contents, lightly shaking his head. Then he closed his eyes once again, returning to his meditation.

ᚼᛁᚱ ᚾᚬᚱᚦᚱᛚᛅᚾᛏᛅ THE NORTHERN HOST Issued by Iulius-Thegn Rauðrdrakar, on the 14th of EIRIKSSTANDA, IAÁ 587, AGE OF DRAGONFYRE; HEED, ELDHIRD It is now a time of merriment, as we finally stand once more. Our people once again gather and laugh, enjoying the warmth and safety of their homes. We finally have a King upon the Ashwood throne, a new leader for our tribe. We once again gather in our temples, hold our rituals, and teach of our Faith. This must be defended, the walls must be manned, our ranks strengthened, our blades and minds kept sharp against the enemies of the North. The toll cannot fall only upon our valiant Purifiers, warriors of the Faith against the filth of the Long Dark. In this era of militarism, in which bandits and Grendel haunt the roads and threaten our safety, in which the other armies and mercenary groups evolve, the Kingdom needs to answer and move in kind. It is with this in mind that I, with the blessing of His Majesty Haraldr Sigmar Haakonsson, declare the formation of the Northern Host. ORGANIZATION THEGN OF THE CAPITAL - ᚦᛁᚴᚾ ᚼᚬᚠᚦᛋᛏᛅᚦᛅᚱ Nominated directly by the King, the Thegn of the Capital is the supreme authority of the Royal Army and auxiliary forces. It is the Thegn’s duty to coordinate national defense, to organize battle plans, to oversee his subordinates and their conduct and adjust the structure of the army as needed. HUSKARL - ᚼᚢᛋᚴᛅᚱᛚ They are senior officers, appointed by the Thegn of the Capital and responsible for large units. They see the Thegn’s orders implemented at operational level, oversee training, logistics and discipline within their command, manage and coordinate officers underneath them. DRENGR - ᛏᚱᛁᚾᚱ The Drengr is a mid-level officer commanding a division. Their duties include the organization of drills and resources gathering missions, ensuring the readiness of warriors and equipment, reporting to superiors their condition, incidents and needs. SEGGR & SKJALDMADR - ᛋᛁᚴᚱ ᛋᚴᛁᛅᛚᛏᛘᛅᚦᚱ They are the direct link between higher ranking officers and enlisted personnel. They’re responsible for the discipline, morale and training of their warriors, as well as executing the mission assigned by higher ranking officers. GUARDSMEN - ᚢᛅᚱᚦᛘᛁᚾ The guardsmen are, effectively, the backbone of the army. They perform defensive and security tasks, patrol, perform enforcement and engage in combat when needed. LEVYMEN - ᚼᛁᚱᛘᛁᚾ The newly enlisted personnel, not yet integrated in the army. They assist the guardsmen in their duties, join their training and battles, so as to both learn and show loyalty to the Kingdom. AND SO IT SHALL BE, BY THE WILL OF OUR ALLFATHER, HIS MAJESTY, Haraldr Sigmar Haakonsson King of Norland, High Chieftain of the House of Ruric, Jarl of Vjardengrad & the Lowmarch, Blood of the Herald & Lord of the Ashwood Throne, Protector of the Highlanders Iulius-Thegn Rauðrdrakar Lord Purifier of the Order of the First Flame, Thegn of Verðrgrad, Chieftain of Clan Rauðrdrakar .

I'm thankful for you and your support too Astro, and I'm glad you think of me that way. Love you too, it's always fun to interact or simply speak

Give Smol CT Admin, objectively the best choice, they're great

“Hail, Kieran! How’re you?” “Alive” “Hop on! We go hunting darkspawn together!” The Thegn couldn’t sleep that night. He tried, to no avail. After all, he had just lost a brother. He stood up from his bed, careful to not wake up his wife. He made his way downstairs, and then into the Kingswood. The moon shone over Verðrgrad, stars decorating the skies. The warrior began his training then. The cold bit his skin, sweat ran down his muscles and scars. He didn’t care. He continued even after he could no more. Until his muscles were screaming at him to stop, and yet he was unable to. “Look after her, won’t ye? An Ay don’t mean Agariel” “I will” || Thuck Snap Crack || The sound of bone hitting wood echoed across the capital’s forest, the slumber of the birds upon the trees disturbed, fleeing. || Thuck Snap Crack || The man kept going. Hitting the thick stick he used to condition his limbs, stronger and stronger, the weight of his perceived failures was discharged on the object. Despite the pain, a thought dominated his mind: “I failed” The Thegn of Vjardengrad, protector of the Nords. First of his kin. And yet, he failed to see the weight upon his friend’s shoulder. He couldn’t protect his brother from himself. || Thuck Snap Crack || Loud grunts began accompanying his hits on the wood. Each one increased in intensity. Memories of the deceased flooded his mind; each battle they fought, each drink they shared. No new memories will be made. || CRASH || The peak of his emotions channeled into a strike, the wood cracked. His knuckle bled. The man fell to his knees, the dam now shattered, tears streaming across his cheek. The sun arose, the first lights of the morning cutting like blades through the darkness of the night. His vision blurred, and then, he passed out. “Farewell, Kieran”

APPLICATION FOR INTERVIEW FULL NAME: Iulius Rauðrdrakar AGE: 54 PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Yes. SIGNED NAME: METHOD OF CONTACT: Discord: salvo7710 / IGN: ezioauditore888

Iulius wonders if he was eligible as heir. ...And if Kieran would've still loved him if he was a worm.

Reserved

The Thegn was sitting on his desk, working diligently, when the bird with the missive arrived. He started to read it, serious, until... "PEPIN?!" The sound of loud laughter could've been heard then echoing across the peaceful territories of Grenzstadt

During a sunny day, two warriors, one Nord and one Numendain, were riding a horse to look for something to slay, so to extinguish their boredom. They were searching for days at this point, but luck just wasn't with them. The spawns of the Dark were too afraid to face them, perhaps. Then, a bird lands on the shoulder of the Nord, bringing a missive. He reads it all, then "Oi, Kieran" he begins, amused "If this one declared a war, he must have an army" - "Perhaps it's invisible?"

A lone figure, clad in white armor, sat in solemn prayer. There was no hearth to warm the young Thegn, no statue of the Paragon before him, no sound but the howling winds of the tundra. Still, he remained—unmoving, silent, his thoughts buried deep beneath the snow like the dead of winters past. The stillness shattered with the beat of wings. A lone bird descended, perching on the Thegn’s shoulder to deliver a missive bound in frost-cracked leather. He read it in silence. A sigh escaped him. "Was that truly necessary?" he wondered, though no words passed his lips. The bird took flight once more, vanishing into the bleak sky. Silence reclaimed the tundra, and the warrior bowed his head again, his prayer resuming—endless, voiceless, enduring.

Goated.