Jadles

Name: Khedhre Jago
Surname/House: Jago
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Citizen Ship Class (A or B): A
 
Physical Description
Height: 6' 3"
Weight: 135
Eye Color: Emerald
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Skin Color/Shade: Pale
Outstanding Markings/Tattoos: None
 
Personal Information
Home Address (Leave blank if unknown): Ashby Estate
Nation of Residence (Choose one: Renatus, Salvus, Hanseti, Seventis): Salvus
Profession/Occupation: Artisan
 
Oath(s) of Loyalty
 
For all classes of Citizenship (fill your name in the blanks):
 
"I, Khedhre, hereby swear my loyalty the Emperor of the Holy Oren Empire
entirely by my free will. I swear to read and obey the laws of the
Empire and understand the punishments and penalties that will be
incurred should I violate the law."
 

 

CLASS A CITIZENS ONLY ((OOC OATH)):
 
"I, Jadles, hereby acknowledge and give my consent to the OOC rule that
should my character be found guilty of High Treason within the Empire,
the Emperor personally (and only the Emperor) has the right to execute
permanently my character. I accept this condition and make it entirely
upon my free will."

A year ago or so, Khedhre had awoken from a dream. His head slumped upon his desk, his clothes drenched in his sweat. His architectural drawings lay strewn across the floor, his desk instead littered with scrolls covered in scrawled symbols and runes. He had feared himself going made all that time ago and had stored the scrolls away, hoping it was just a strange dream...

Yet tonight he awoke, his heart racing as he saw again his office scrambled by his sleeping maelstrom and in front of him a third scroll. He must find the reason to these dreamed messages. Night turned to day and the sun set again, still he worked tirelessly. On the third day, echausted but with a slight smile on his face he looked at what he had desiphered.

He wasn't sure he fully understood it, but he had made some sense of the runes.

Unaware that many others had been gifted these messages also he grabbed a loose piece of parchment, and wrote:

t, £a.nºi.£,ô ôª,.ñº

He stacked them all together and locked them away, safe under lock and key, until perhaps the dreams would come to him again.

Thyrius Gumblefoot kneels by the plaque that remembers the life of Kip. Trying his best to hold back a tear he lays a bunch of fresh flowers next to the wooden bench.

He mumbles a prayer softly:

"I did'n' 'now you all so well, bu' a frien' ye surely be,

A papa to your family, but also oft' t' me,

Rest well Kip Tooke, you've earned 't true,

Until we meet again in time, I raise me glass t' you."

He stands and wipes his eyes, before turning and heading away to his burrow.

Ashkae having heard the exchange between cloaked traveler and Cleric, motions to the crowd.

"The leader of the Twilight Army desires no bloodshed... An irony then, that he leads an army, the very tool created for the purpose of killing! Strange, I find it, that this "army of peace" attacks innocents and burns homes. We all heard what they did down at Riven... But still they send their prophets through our lands peddling their twisted tales of impersonation and masquerades. This is why we stand united. These Twilight's have no direction or purpose, they seek only to destroy life where they find it, destroy lives and leave peace dying in the gutters.

My brothers and sisters of Salvus, we are an army of peace. Offer these lost souls your bread if you would, but they will find no succour in it I fear. Their only nourishment is blood, these vampires of Asulon, who in the dusk, faces hidden, attempt to suck the last remnants of what is good from our lands. But we stand in the light!

Ashkae watches the man pull his cloak tighter rather than show his face.

"I remember the Queen was the reason for this war, then the ordinators... with them both gone, Salvus shall burn for what noble and honourable cause Ser?..

But no matter, you are resolute in your opinion, and us in ours. May compassion find you and brighten your heart, may the light lead you from the path you stumble down, for we all know the road is strewn with forks and misleading signs... don't get lost on your way traveller..."

Ashkae smirks to himself.

"You hear this man's words? How fickle he perceives you all to be, to abandon your homes, your livelihoods, your hard work and sacrifices to bend before his blind judgement. We who live here know the streets have been quiet for weeks now, not a riot or unrest in sight. The Ordinator's have all but vanished, if he wishes to pursue them he can do so, but they do not harm or inflict corruption or murder on our streets.

This man is only here to spread lies it seems, a repeated folly of ignorance and lies, sent to, no doubt, further the cause of those likely paying him, in their quest for Godlessness and black-hearted slaughter. Those who have seen your innocent friends die know this man speaks lies and hatred. Those who took up arms to defend the lands you love because you love them, know him to be false.

This man is no doubt another prophet of the lies and deceit that rots the very heart of Asulon. Here is as safe as anywhere, and the changes that have already happened have made it safer. Let your hearts and mind decide, but i know you will trust the words of one known to speak truths, a brother of your own, over this traveller, one who hides his face for fear to reveal his true self, who does not even live in our fair nation! If he did, he would be a brother, we would look each other in the eye, we would share stories of old... One who hides himself away from us, yet dares to spread sedition, is no brother, nor welcome here.

Ask yourselves this my brethren... How often have we heard foreigners tell us what we should do, how down-trodden and blighted they think we are, when none of them even live or work here? And their solution? To tear down our homes, destroy our lives? They are not our community surely? They think we are blind to their fingers desperately clutching at the hope that they may strip some power from Salvus to call their own? Are we to believe we as Salvian's cannot govern ourselves? Enough of this folly, we know we have endured a lot and will endure more than this man's petty attempts to break our unconquerable spirit!"

Ashkae turns and glares at the hooded man.

"Show us your face if you are of Salvus... but as we know, you are just an agent of those trying to destroy what we have. Perhaps it is time you left?"

Ashkae Jago stands in the Gazebo and addresses a small crowd of farmers and townsfolk, the fire lighting his chiseled face, as the light winds blow his tussled hair and cloak about him. The people listen warily but intently as he starts to speak...

"Brothers and Sisters, people of Salvus and of Asulon, hear these words, for their is much work to be done and wounds to be healed if we are to restore our nation to its former state. We lived under a credo of peace and tranquility, thrived in honour and loyalty, and through the sweat of our labours, grew this nation to something truly great.

Like all peoples of this world, some of those we looked at to guide us were corrupted by power and greed, bloodlust and cowardise, but those have now fallen, and like their dishonour, have been swept away. Though, through their misdeeds, the blood of our brethren has spilled on our fair soil, do not let their demise go to waste. Like the pheonix, we must rise from the ashes of these flames of conquest, and help restore Salvus. For where else can we go in this world, where we can live in peace and hold the values that remain dear to us all? Salvus was the beacon of all that was right with humanity before the dark times of late, and we can restore that light to shine over Asulon.

So pick up your tools my fellow Salvians, harvest your crops and make the sweetest bread our lips have tasted, harvest your lumber to help us rebuild our homes, and cherish one another, so that we may restore the love and honour that we once held so dear.

And if the wolves from nations afar still seek to destroy our peaceful existence, then we know it is they who are truly corrupt, their hearts filled with greed and injustice, it is they who take pleasure in spilling the blood of the innocent, and with the might of the just and the pure, we will rally against them if we must, and together we will make them pay for their crimes if they persist.

Our queen is dead, the ordinators scattered and slain, punished for their crimes. Now is the time to swear our oath to the Salvan crown, and make this land great once again.

Stand with us brothers and sisters, and we can make this nation great once again.

For peace and for Salvus!"

He smiles sensing a trickle of hope flow into those who listened to his words, hoping that together peace and tranquility can be restored.

Ashkae tacks a scroll up on the gazebo. His face wracked with anger and sorrow. It reads:

"To a queen of gentle spirit, noble of heart,

A master of bread and of culinary arts,

I shall remember you, fondly my queen,

For all the good that you did, for the worlds you have seen,

And though your ending be haggered, with lies and deceit,

Riotous acts, on your once fair streets,

Much will be whispered, but this much is true,

It was always an honour to serve for you,

Now the sun sets, and those who knew you shall mourn,

We shall man walls and barricades, and ride out this storm,

But when battles over, bloodlusts have been fed,

When fate leads our hands, through lands tainted red,

And tears will run, whenever it is said...

Long live the queen, Our queen Dawn is dead."

To the wind he speaks "Rest in peace my Queen, may the afterlife treat you better than this one did."

Ashkae, upon entering the city, sees the smoldering ruins and looks down sadly.

He shakes his head and says a silent prayer, knowing this rash and reactionary action will only rally more rebels against the lands he calls home.

((I wanted to pen the story of how Ashkae got to Asulon. It is also some practice as i want to get back into writing. Any comments ooc appreciated.))

The last days were upon the world, that was clear to most who lived in Aegis. In the northern town of Winterfell, supplies were being stocked, the barricades readied for the forthcoming onslaught. Men and women worked around the town in their jobs. The smith’s armoury was stocked, days spent on crafting swords and armour, bows and arrows. Although with the threat posed, hope was despairing and faltering all around him.

He watched the scurrying activity below him from the balcony above the smith, the winds whipping his hair about his face. Turning his head to the heavens he muttered a prayer to anyone who was listening. He stared at the stars as if waiting for a response. He had seen a star streak across the sky on many occasions and tonight was no different. He watched it, praying that his friends would be spared, but knew in his heart, they and he would all fall. As he watched it, it seemed to grow brighter, much closer than he had first thought, he watched it trail towards the earth.

He blinked a few times. Had he seen it hit the horizon?! He left the balcony, grabbed his pack and a sword and locked the smithy. He ventured out from Winterfell, in the vain hope that he had seen a star hit the earth, and that he could find it.He pulled his cloak tightly around him, the strong wind's fingers desperately trying to tear it from his shoulders. He had journeyed far, further than he ever imagined, following a vision in his head. A point he thought he had traced on the horizon was now just a weak haze in his mind’s eye, but still he trudged on, through the snow and the ever heightening winds.He took a deep breath as the stars twinkled in the sky and seemed to urge him onward, and with one final glance at the moon overhead, he pushed through the vines into the thick forest that lay before him. He stumbled forward, over roots and moss. Onward deeper into the forest, no longer sure if he was even headed in the direction he perceived was right.The wind was merciless, even deep amongst the trees, and as the harsh northern climate determined that clouds should roll in and issue more snow, he knew that if he didn’t find shelter now, he would die out here.

He surged forward, tripping on roots and fallen logs, grazing palms and forearms, twigs clawing his face, scratching and tearing at him. He felt the ground begin to slope and as he climbed over a large fallen tree he saw before him the maw of a cave. At least in there, he thought, he’d be out of the elements, and could maybe even start a fire. He scooped up some fallen branches as he headed toward the cave, and lightly tapping the snow off them, headed in...

He stood in the dark, his eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom, ears pricked for the sounds of danger but all he could hear was the distant drip of water trickling through the rocks deep below him. He moved cautiously onward, down and deeper into the cave, feeling like he was wading against a tide, although there was just rock below his feet. The air thick and heavy, a persistent feeling that something was not right sat ill with him. With each passing step and laboured breath he pushed his tired body onward, every inch forward seemed to fill his head with a soft hum. A vibration in his ribs that grew stronger as he left the dim glimmer of surface light behind him. He gritted his teeth as the exertion placed on his body started to slow him down.Panting and in need of a rest he rounded a bend in the dark tunnel, and stumbled into a large cavern. Water, slow and methodically, dripped from the roof above him, soft occasional splashes flicking up onto his skin. The pulsing, humming vibration was almost unbearable, his chest ached, his breathing short and ragged.

A sudden fear swept over him. How far had he come?.. Could he muster the strength to get back to the surface?...Was he to die, alone in this strange place? Is this where he had been led to, by the folly of chasing a star that had probably never of hit the earth?

"What... is this... place?" He asked the air around him. The only answer was the soft drip of the water and the vibrations coursing through his body. He took a few last steps, falling forward as he did so. His knees and palms grazing on the rough, damp rock below.He eyed from down on the floor a nook above a cluster of loose rocks, the perfect place to light a fire and rest. With all the effort he could find deep within, he reached out a bloody hand and dragged himself closer.

The pain was almost too much now, he knew in his heart this would be his grave. With one last effort he reached out and grabbed for the rock resting on the pile, below the nook, knocking it sideways in his energy sapped haze.

As the rock tumbled away, a shaft of purple light shone forth from within the remaining mound of rocks. Startled, his other hand reaching up to pull himself closer, touched the beam of light, bathing his hand in a majestic purple halo for a moment, then he was suddenly thrown backwards across the cave, his back slamming into a wall, head cracking against the hard stone, the force of the impact left him slumped, a crumpled heap in the corner.

And the cave felt so cold, colder than it had...He could of sworn that the dripping water had started to form into icicles. He gazed at it confused as the colours drained from the world around him, his eyes began to close, his world bathed in black...

Outside the world moved on, Aegis fell, years passed, Ashkae seemingly lost to the world, friends who had survived the atrocities, knowing not his fate, mourned him and moved on with their lives. Yet inside the cavern, time had trickled at a gentle ebb, days lasted for months, months lasted for years...He awoke with a start, a purple glow filtering through his eyelids. His mind pounded in agony. He reached up to touch the back of his head, his hair matted and sticky with his own dried blood. He noticed the cave was rimmed with ice and frost, as was his clothes. In fact he wasn’t even sure this was where he had been before he was knocked out, he thought woozily, trying to clear this obvious dream from his mind.So he sat in stunned silence, as the cavern pulsed with a purple glow, but he couldn’t see the way he had come in. If there was a path here, maybe a rockfall had blocked it. Or a wall of ice?

He just couldn’t remember... anything. Who he was, his past, his mind could recall nothing when prompted. His body ached, but his head spun. He lurched to his feet, only to drop to his knees as he retched against the wall. After gaining a little composure, he searched around the cave until he found a tiny opening, big enough for him to squeeze his shoulders through, but there was no way the pack would fit down it. Regrettably he left his belongings behind as he forced himself down the tight confined tunnel. Pitch black and feeling like death he slowly moved and climbed, until up above him a glimmer of light. Renewed by this his pushed on, until finally he surfaced and stumbled forward into this new world.

He dropped to his knees fingers sinking into the soft mud, clutching grass and soil alike. A tree a few feet away bore apples, and his growling stomach demanded he eat. Lacking the strength to climb and pick one, he surveyed the wind-fallen fruit picking a few that weren’t too worm eaten, and taking a bite from one savoured the sweet juice as it ran across his tongue. Munching, he turned to look back at the way he had come, but he couldn’t see the tunnel. Unsure of whether he was dreaming or mad with delrium, dazed by his ordeal, he set forth, to find a road, that if luck was with him would lead him to life in this new world. His mind fogged from his past in Aegis, and unbeknownst to him, forever touched by the powers that had spared him, he set out into the new land before him, still Jago, but not the same man people once knew...

(( Do you mean the white area on the west side or the area you've coloured green in the north east?Just checking... ))

Notices are being pinned up around Human towns and cities. A message is written as follows:

"Humans of Oren, lay down your tools, sheath your swords and bare your knuckles, for a tournament will soon begin to test your strength and hand to hand combat. In two Elven days ((Sunday 27 Nov, 9pm GMT, 5pm EST)) in the Al'khazar arena, a great event will take place. Fist versus fist, wits versus wits. The winner will earn fame, vast reknown and be crowned arena champion, earning the right to set up the next event in the King's name.

Come one, come all, and fight with all your might, for only one can stand victorious, only one can be arena champion. Show us your strength, claim the title as your own!

This event is open to men and women of the Human race only. Fight with honour, fight with bravery, fight for fame!

If you have the guts, sign up below. We look forward to watching you fight! Good luck entrants, may the best knuckles win!"

Starts to take notes...

It shall be written and thus it shall be known!

If my words mean ought at all, to any one who'd listen,

I think Robin, to the GM team, would make a fine addition,

Who having got to know him well, I'm sure you'd all agree,

Both funny and kind, plus responsible, of the finest pedigree,

But now I think I could not say, the reason for this rhyme,

So impressed I was that he'd applied, i thought I'd take the time,

So promote him now, don't delay,

and we can cheer and shout hooray,

This would make me happy, but maybe not his beard,

It didn't really get a mention, i find that slightly weird...

If you can't tell, you got my support Robin! Good luck matey!!

((just wondering, is a week IRL, or IG? IRL seems to little, but IG seams to much..))

I may consider this, provided my current job falls through

((irl week))

Hello there,

We are looking for some dedicated workers to help supply a chain of businesses.

We need the following:

Farmers - We have large established farm areas, that need to be harvested and re-planted as often as possible. We also have an established forest that needs cutting, apples harvested and saplings replanting on a regular basis. This is something that can be done while crops are growing.

Farmers will receive 500 minas a week ((irl)), as long as a harvest has been collected and replanted that week.

Ideally two loyal and dedicated farmers who would also be willing to hunt/fish/cut trees would be perfect.

Modest rooms will also be provided.

We expect the successful applicants to work hard and do their best to fulfill our expectations and in return they will be treated very well.

If you are interested please put your MC name, a bit about your character and why you would like to work with us.

Any Fishers & Hunters who wish to sell us their wares we need meat of all kinds on a daily basis. We will pay 2.5 minas for each unit of raw meat.

Grats Robin! Hail to the King of Memes!!

MCname

I would still like to remain on the application team:

I look for:

1. A good explanation of role play, and I look for a trend throughout from their answers that the applicant would add to the sever in terms of their actions and character development.

2. A Character Biography that is well thought and and well written, if effort has been put into creating it, and often if they bring something unique or interesting to the server. For example character with flaws, who aren't the worlds greatest swordsman/bowman/miner/builder/lover etc. It's all very well writing a good biography, but we don't need 400 Legolas clones...

3. Their grammar and use of the language. I also often couple this with their answer length. If they can be bothered to write more than a few words to an answer, I fear they may be like that in game. It is not the speed it takes, but the value of what is being said. Sometimes a short answer will do, but a longer one adds more interest.

4. Do they come across as friendly, well mannered and eager to be a part of a great community, or do they just want to join the ever swelling ranks of griefers and trolls.

5. The way they have formatted their application, have they checked it, have they even read what they've written? Having been on the application team and reviewed many posts, there is nothing worse than a badly written, badly formatted application. If they can't take the time and effort to get that right, I worry about what they will actually bring to LotC.