Arteh

Just heard about this and logged back on. Rest in peace brother.

Lothar d'Amaury glances at an unsigned flyer, scanning through it intently. He lets out a chuckle before glancing at the fellow Knights. "It is interesting to see that the Adriatic people, once unified in their cause now grow fragmented and resentful of their liege lord. They are boastful of their ignorance to their history and ancestry but perhaps that is what they need to recall in times such as these. Do they forget the burning of Brelus? Or the sack of Barrowyck?" Lothar d'Amaury would heave a sigh, performing the Lorraine cross over his chest. "I pray these 'Men' find their courage. These are not the Adrians I recall reading of in the wars of Augustus."

Falador Frostbeard beats his chest in anticipation, mimicking a rabid ape. He would appear eager to please his forefathers; Karl and Gorum Frostbeard.

Mbappe'Ugluk sits beside a fire, glancing at a rogue invitation that he found. He briefly lets out a grunt, followed by shaking his head. "Diz bi am zau mojo. Illska! Diz am bi skahin da kasi." (This is blasphemy, black magic. Evil! They're ******* up the culture.)

Stay blessed homies..

Great work.

The Azghari Warband “When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hell followed with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.” The Azghari Tribe is a band of nomadic peoples hailing originally from the lands of Vailor where they roamed the empty valleys and plains. Known for their proficiency in horse riding, they are feverous warriors and skilled craftsmen. Initially, the Azghari people worshipped the eternal blue sky and Tengri, however over-time they renounced their pagan ways and adopted the Imam e Rashidun faith. Azghari scholars and members of the ulema interpreted the faith in their own way and have minor adaptations and as well as cultural elements incorporated into their belief. The Azghari possess an intriguing distinction in their eyes that is seen through the colours of brown, green and blue. Their hardihood is evident in their wild appearance, and they are beings who are cruel to their children on the very day they are born. For they mark a cut on the males with a sword, so that before they receive the nourishment of milk they must learn to endure wounds. They are tall ain stature, quick in bodily movement, alert horsemen, broad shouldered, ready in the use of bow and arrow, and have firm-set necks which are ever erect in pride. A travelling band, these nomads are oft on the move and rarely stay in the same place, the constant need for migration being a requirement for their herd in order to graze. The Azghari do not settle - fast moving horsemen that stay for only short times in a single place. Every member is expected to sustain themselves by their own tools, hunting game and slaying prey to feed them. Members of the tribe are encouraged to engage in enterprise and trade as well as craftly pursuits to provide value and income to the tribe. Slavery is accepted by the Azghari, and a man is judged on how many slaves he has taken. For those who are taken in bondage, freedom can only be earned by hard coin or valour shown in the Warband’s service - freeing them to fight as any other rider. For the wealth that is gathered in battle, every man receives an equal portion - the Warband knows no boundaries to brotherhood. - The tribe follows a traditional Beylik leadership structure. The tribe is headed by a Beylerbeyi who is then accompanied and supported by other Beys who each command respect and power in their own right. The Beys act as a council which steer the direction of the tribe. Although ultimate authority lies with the Beylerbeyi, the society is heavily reliant on respect and as such disregarding the advice of the Beys can create rifts and internal disputes within the tribe. - Legal proceedings in the tribe are overseen by an ‘Alim’ who is a prominent scholar of the Imam e Rashidun faith and uses religious text and guidance to oversee the justice in the tribe. - The tribal income drives from their skilled craftsmen and women who create rugs, pottery and garments with unique designs. This is supplemented by income achieved through raids. OOC: The aim of this group is to portray a realistic tribe, we intend on developing this from a nomadic tribe into a settled government. We aim to provide a mixture of roleplay and PVP elements to our members, however a heavy emphasis is placed on high quality roleplay. If you are interested in filling a position of leadership within the tribe, please feel free to forum PM me.

Ole Auggie rests in an undisclosed location beside a fire, nursing some very bad ale as he ponders upon this news - controverisally wondering if he should return to reclaim his birthright.

Peace be upon it.

GOD bless Morsgad.

“Cedden Dedin” mutters a disgruntled warrior

Godric standing at the gates of Rubern https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFVrOC8gOhU We shall have Peace The orchestra of battle would roar about Godric as he wiped off his blood lathered boots. The cacophony of clashing blade and twanging bow filling the air, complimented by a choir of screams and snarls. Shards of shattered teeth littered the ground, as he’d watch a whimpering figure crawl away. The thing, once a man, was now wracked by a mixture of maddened laughter and sobbing. The back of its head bore the bloodied imprint of a boot heel, its mouth, shattered beyond repair. Godric grimaced, turning his eyes to the battle raging about him. Haense had sallied out as his men dragged the once Emperor from the cells below. The whimpering man had his teeth set against the stone stairs.There was almost a sense of poetic justice to it all, he mused to himself. To stomp the skull of a man who had threatened him with such a fate. The pathetic figure crawling away now could never rule humanity, despite its flaws, sin, pettiness, and depravity. The races of man would tear down any but the strongest. A beautiful reality that denied all pretensions to law and civilization. The pitch of the battle would lull as the last of the Haense soldiers were cut down for the third time that day. It never ceased to amaze the young duke how a faction with such a numerical advantage, so much experience in war could be so inept. He shook his head as the song of steel was replaced by one of death. Men begging for mercy, screaming for their mothers with bloodied hands outstretched to the sky. then silence as the cold faced warriors would plunge home their steel. Godric would spit, before motioning a hand to one of his men; A young member of the Martyrs who had fought himself bloody defending his Duke. “Bring me pen and paper,” he’d say curtly as he waved the man off on the errand. A Missive to the Wide Realms of Man Where is Peace? For I cannot seem to find it? Is it hidden under the endless law tomes and decorum of the southern courts? For all my far searching it seems to elude me. Despite what the ramblings of the scholars. It is not paper that preserves the law. Nor is it ink that preserves the peace. It is men of conviction, men of action, but most of all men of strength. All the paper in the world, all the fancy words and endless codices of law are entirely useless without the weight of the sword. So when shall we have peace? We shall have peace when the weakness of man is purged once and for all. For peace is the privilege of the strong. For too long have our thrones been plagued by the ineptitude of weaklings. A culture of mediocrity has infested the races of man. ‘Live and let live’ they mutter, chewing upon their cud like the fattened cattle they are. ‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind’ they whimper, sitting idly by in the face of injustice. Where are the great heroes and villains of our race? I look upon us now and see nought but those desperately clinging to the status quo. There are those among you who think me a barbarian. A man driven by his passions, his whims to acts of cruelty, to acts of savagery. They call me a warmonger as I defend those who assaulted and avenge those who are murdered. I am not a kind man. I am not a charitable man. I am a harsh man. I am a just man. For these are the qualities necessary to a lord, a lord must not be ‘good’ a lord must not be ‘nice’. A lord must be a lord. He must serve his people justly in all things, and defend them from all evils. I see far too many who call themselves ‘nobility’ who conduct themselves basely. Men of status who let insult pass them by, as if they were meek women. The Empress herself professes her ‘distance’ from her husband. Confessing to me that she prefers the bedchambers of other men. While her husband, the ‘Emperor’ pursues an Alf witch. Where has virtue gone from humanity? Where has the strength? How can we expect greatness and heroism as it was in the days of yore if the supposed best of us conduct themselves so basely. Is the church truly so weak? Is the canonist’s belief in their own religious law truly so fragile it is batted aside without comment? So how shall we have peace? When the rot is burnt out branch, trunk and root from the body of humanity. When the tongue twisters, toe suckers and brigands hang from the slats of my bridge. With the events of today, I know we cannot have peace. For Peter is too weak a man to deserve it. Too weak a man to force it. Haense will burn for their crimes. Andrik can only hide behind the skirts of his woman generals for so long before I root him out from his burrow. To those nobles of the wide realms of man: Know that today I trod upon the head of this ‘Emperor’, now rendered to little more than a shattered beast. Thrice the forces of Haense and Crown set upon the men of the AIS. Thrice they were slaughtered like cattle. Is this the man you would follow? Godric, WARCLAIM TYPE OF WAR AND CBS Claimant, Denouncement, Historical Grudge (two emperors, seahelm), Assault on an Ally, Murder of Citizens, Breaking Pacts (Western Alliance) ATTACKERS Alliance of Independent States + Allies DEFENDERS Haense and Allies WARGOALS Install Government LOCATION AND PROPOSED TIME TBD CONTACT INFORMATION Topman#6336

Leufroy d’Amaury feels a sensation in his briches.

Leufroy d’Amaury tears up the missive, tossing it aside.

Arthur cheers and celebrates with the Reivers back at the Marnan camp.

Arthur chuckles hearing the Pertinaxi fear-monegering of a Haensetic Empire. “They even manipulate their own people” scoffs Arthur.

Arthur smiles are the news of his Elven bretheren aiding their just cause.

Arthur hums the song.

Arthur chuckles upon hearing the news of the Pertinaxi rabble being brought down.

But you were already fighting with them?

Arthur is in awe of the overnight construction of this fort.