dandan1350

- A notice is hung round the cloud temple docks -

The principality of Savoy is attempting to purchase diamonds,

If you wish to sell, please leave your name, amount and desired price below. Please also state if you are willing to accept items in considered same value, and which items you wish for.

Many thanks

- A notice is pinned round the cloud temple -

"We are looking to offload a surplus of three carts (stacks) of iron blocks. Each cart is sold at the price of 3000 mina per cart, discounts for bulk purchase may be considered."

Please leave your name and desired amount below. All sales will be conducted on temple grounds.

Thank you

I feel like I've been slipped something looking at your avatar.

He was never raised for this. Never brought up to lead, take charge or assert himself. He was thrust into it without warning, giving no chance to prepare. Within a night he found himself named the new prince of Savoy with little to no readiness, no idea of the state of this principality or its people. And the state it was in, was near turmoil. It came as no surprise to him, his sleepless nights, his days without food or drink, sometimes going up to a whole week not leaving his room let alone the confines of the palace. He hadn't seen sun besides a glance from the windows that peered into his room within the last three days. Through his stress and habits of shutting himself away while he did his duty, sickness crept upon the young prince. He found himself weak, beginning to grow frail and thing, hair falling quickly from his head with a simple run of his hands through it. All the signs of stress hit him hard and soon he was nearly bed-ridden from it. 

The only thought that flooded his mind was his brother at this point. Not his wife, his family, his lands, his people. They had too much time already on his mind, now was the time for his brother to take over.

"Elly you ****.." He cursed out in a hoarse voice. "I was raised a diplomat, not a leader.." He mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. The prince drifting off as he was finally offered his first proper nights sleep without disturb. Only entry permitted by his prince guard on proper reason or visitation. 

The young prince rested his weary body, and took a well-needed break that most leaders could not afford especially himself. 

~ Savoy Lumberyard ~ 

The Savoyard lumberyard has come across a large quantity of excess logs, and in this situation has decided to sell the surplus amounts. 

The following prices listed below are negotiable in large quantities.

Cart-full of logs cost: 450 mina per cart

To receive a 100 mina discount from full-cart load offers, you may include two diamonds in the sale price.

Special items:

During the cutting of lumber, a large number of mysterious or curious regents are acquired which can be inquired about. A specific number is not supplied, please inquire privately to what you may be searching for.

All manner of logs can be requested in whatever quantity desired, please leave a request below and a location of contact. You will then be informed if your request is accepted, and then later when it is finished. 

Collections are made from Peremont city.

The Savoyard Lumberyard is also looking for a supplier of the material - Diamond, so we may continue repairing our axes. If you are looking to sell or trade in large quantities, please inquire privately where such may be discussed and arranged.

~ Esheveurd Reborn ~

The carriage came to a halt at the entrance of the mighty keep, Geldern. The carriages wooden body hosting a dual pair of black and white streaming banners marking it’s Ashford allegiance. As the carriage was steadied to a halt the two men sat a front it quickly hopped from their seats and hurried to the carriage door, one opening the wooden door and the other laying down a series of small steps allowing a graceful decline to the ground. The two servants eyes fell to the ground as a thud of heavy plate hit the wooden step laid out beneath him and the young prince of Ashford revealed himself to the warm summer rays of his land. A brief smile graced the young man’s lips as he held up a gauntlet to shield the sun from his eyes and began his descent to the ground with a hasty nod to the two servants in thanks. Without another word the youth began to stride across the drawbridge leading him into the keep, on his flank a post of two Crozier brothers swiftly departed their station and began to march behind at decent pace.

As he moved past each set of doors a further two guardsmen fell on his flank till he arrived within the throne room. A fine divide of the masses lead up straight towards the throne, rows of brotherhood men keeping them within place so as not to block the runway upwards. He crossed pass the masses, a creeping silence fell over the gathered crowds as only the heavy clink and rustle of armoured men marching forward sounded out. The armoured flank of men came to a halt before the stage and the youth made forward to ascended the few steps before he turned to face the gathered crowds from which his arms separated from his sides and rose upwards calling silence. The two men already stood on the stage joined him by his side, Lord Denis and Lord Thomas, both stoic in expression and strict in posture.

“Men, women of Savoy. We have gathered within these halls to witness today the beginning of a new generation. For many this is lost but to those who truly call themselves Savoyards they are well-versed in the history of Esheveurd. They were the creators of Ashfords haven, till their very last breath they served to defend the Ashford family no matter the cost to themselves. They were the last generation, a lost generation who no longer serve in this world.” The youthful prince glanced over his shoulder towards the Lord de Aryn with a simple nod before turning his gaze outward towards the crowd. His eyes dropped further down to the front of the crowds where several men stood at ease, adorned in a blue tinted plate and each a winged helmet hooked under his arm.

“But we have once more found the lost Esheveurd, the new generation who will take over their predecessors role. I ask the men in front to step forward.” As he spoke his final words, the armoured men each in unison followed the command and all stepped forward in sync.

“Rolan of Drusco, approach.” On that word the armoured man marched out from his spot to stand before the prince, gazing upward to him and giving a firm salute as his balled fist smashed against his chestplate.

“You are called forward on this day to receive the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a countryman of Savoy. Take a knee.” The man fell to a knee, his head hanging as his gaze dropped to the floor. The prince twisted round to face the servant behind him, accepting from the offered velvet pillow a blade of unique creation. A ceremonial blade, boasting a golden handle, a crest of the solstice sun sitting on the crest. Twisting back round to face Roland once more he leant forward and rested the flat of the blade on the man’s shoulder. “I ask you to recite your oaths, and swear your allegiance to Ashford. Speak these words.”

“I am the guard. I am the shield.

My place is beside the Ashen Family.

I am vigilant. I am true.

I act in Ashfords name.

I am elite. I am brave.

Traitors and Enemies shall fall before me.

I am devoted. I am pure.

Ashfords safety is my only task.

I am the guard. I bear one name.

Esheveurd. No words but deeds.”

The knelt man recited his words, swearing his life to the spoken oath. The prince lifted the blade from the man’s shoulder, flipping it over and offering out the blades golden hilt to him. “Rise, not only a sworn brother of Esheveurd but rise as the champion of Ashford. I now dub you Roland, the blade of Ashford.” Roland rose after the words as he reached out to grip the hilt of the Ashford blade and take claim to it. With a swift wave of the princes hand he dismissed the man to the side and dragged his gaze outward to the collected men.

“Lord Oscar Lancefeld, approach.” On that word the armored man marched out from his spot to stand before the prince, gazing upward to him and giving a firm salute as his balled fist smashed against his chestplate.

“You are called forward on this day to receive the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a countryman of Savoy. Take a knee.” The man fell to a knee, his head hanging as his gaze dropped to the floor. The prince twisted round to face the servant behind him and accepted a second gift, a finely crafted shield of which sat a solstice sun upon its front. He twisted round to face the lord and gave a brief smile. “I ask you to recite your oaths, and swear your allegiance to Ashford. Speak these words.”

“I am the guard. I am the shield.

My place is beside the Ashen Family.

I am vigilant. I am true.

I act in Ashfords name.

I am elite. I am brave.

Traitors and Enemies shall fall before me.

I am devoted. I am pure.

Ashfords safety is my only task.

I am the guard. I bear one name.

Esheveurd. No words but deeds.”

Glancing down briefly to the shield in his grip, the smile fading from the prince as he spoke out. “Rise, not only a sworn brother of Esheveurd but rise as the shield of Ashford. I dub you, the shield of Ashford.” Extending outwards, he placed the finely crafted shield within the risen lord's hands and waved him to the side till he finally took in a deep breath. “Men of Savoy!” He barked out in a commanding tone as the eight remaining unoathed men instantlly snapped into a salute. The heavy ring of plate against plate sounding out as balled up gauntlets struck against each chestplate of the soldiers in front of him. “I ask you to recite your oaths, and swear your allegiance to Ashford. Speak these words.” His words began to ring out across the hall of Geldern.

“I am the guard. I am the shield.

My place is beside the Ashen Family.

I am vigilant. I am true.

I act in Ashfords name.

I am elite. I am brave.

Traitors and Enemies shall fall before me.

I am devoted. I am pure.

Ashfords safety is my only task.

I am the guard. I bear one name.

Esheveurd. No words but deeds.”

Each word, line after line was recited in return to the prince as each of the armoured eight men swore an oath upon their life to him in fealty. “Now rise, not just men of Savoy but now men of Esheveurd.” He rose his hand as he spoke, gesturing them all from their knee. As they rose the lord de Aryn departed from the young princes side and stepped from the raised stage to where he stood in front of Roland and Oscar. He produced out two badges within his hand, each in the design of a blazing sun. He stepped first to Roland, pinning the badge upon the breastplate, then stepping to the lord Lancefeld and pinning the badge upon him. Stepping back he gave a firm salute to the men and a nod, each man returning the salute immediately. Lucius continued to watch the lord de Aryn, as Thomas stepped past each newly sworn in member of Esheveurd. Pinning to them each a badge of the solstice sun upon their chest plate till he was finally done. He returned back to Lucius side and fell silent. “And so the torch is passed on.”

Denis finally broke from his stationary position, stepping forward as he called out to the crowds. “All hail the prince!” He called out, and the crowds returned in kind with their own cheers. As the crowds began to die down in volume, Luicus descended from his stage and began forward down the divide. In front of him paced Roland and Oscar, eagerly eyeing the crowds for any moves as the rest of the eight newly anointed princely guard fell shortly behind in pairs. The long column forming as they exited.

Through the prestigious show of formalities, oaths and symbolism. The torch was past onto the new Esheveurd brothers, sworn elite of his Serene Highness Prince Lucius de Savoie. The princely guard was created under the careful management of Lord Lancefeld, now dubbed the shield of Ashford.

((As always, apologies for the poorly written posts. Very tired and not quite sure what I'm writing at this point. Short little post regarding the creation of the small prince guard.))

Draw me like one of your Savoyard girls?

It was over in less then a second, to any bystander but a simple flash but to him it felt eternal.

The aged knight has brought his steed onward as he lined himself among his fellow cavaliers with his lance held loosely in his grip, armored digits drumming the shaft as he tried to fight back the fear of battle no man could escape. His right hand tugging on the reigns as the sudden call was made and the lines of cavalry set off in a blazing charge down the hill and through the sandy dunes, their hooves kicking up a trail behind him. Battle cries of joy, rage and some fear sounded out as the elder knight followed suit alongside his cavalier brothers, pulling down his visor to shadow his aged face and lowering his couched lance forward towards his enemies. A grin crept the elder knights lips as the heat of battle began to consume him. Arrows whistling past his head and crude orcish projectiles firing back in return, his shield raised ahead as one of the projectiles embedded itself into his cover causing a spray of splinters. His heart began to beat faster, the race of battle driving the adrenaline filled elder as he continued on alongside his younger brothers.

But within an instant it ended.

The lines collided at the mass of orc hordes and Orenian cavalier met, shields splintering, lances piercing, blades biting down. The cries of men and beast alike, the shrill noises of terror escaping the beasts the knights rode upon as they reared up in fear stomping their heavy hooves to the piling bodies. Battle broke out and the ringing sound of metal clashing against each other in heated combat consumed above all else, even past the confusion of the first charge. However for one there was only a muffled background.

Couching his lance and readying himself, the elder knight lowered his body further to his horse as the two sides drew ever closer. There it happened and there it ended, his lance pierced one of the green-skinned beasts to the floor leaving it to heave and flail in useless attempt as the knight was showered in a wave of splinters. His hand darted down to reach for his blade but the flash of sun reflecting from iron blinding him as the heavy war-axe found its mark and a second lumbering beast sent the elder flying from his steed and to the floor, a flash of crimson coursing the air. Blood seeped heavily from the heavy wound embedded the knights chest as he gasped for air that would not come, his hands clutching weakly where his chest sat torn in near two. He had no valiant death, no peaceful end by his friends side. He had only a warrior's death if one could call it that. Unable to be heard or seen, beneath his visor he wept with fear as the pain consumed him and finally his weeping was no more. The elder knight let a final breath escaping him as he fell limp among the masses of the already fallen troops around him.

This simple skirmish saw the end of him and many soldiers around him, for what cost? Hopefully a better Oren. And so the elder knights oaths were finally ended, free from his failures of Guy de Bar and Olivier.

"Brann Marwood died as he lived, in service to Ashford. Protecting his liege."

((Wrap up to one of my favorite characters I've RPed on and developed, he became a lot from what was only suppose to be a one week temporary character. I'll miss him.))

Lucius let a sigh escape him as he pushed himself from his desk and made way through the heavy oak doors, pushing them aside to step out onto the balcony that overlooked the palace and its outlying grounds. His youthful and joyful gaze lost to the world he had experienced, only two years in and he had already been brought to such a low-state. A sigh escaping him as he thought back and longed to return to Ulmsbottom away from his duties and all the bloodshed surrounding him. He shook his head and looked up to Elias' tower. "Blood for Ashford." He murmured quietly, turning from the balcony and descending into his study once more.

"This vault can be given no more protection then it already has, I can assure you it is entirely secure." He replied swiftly.

"I will simply say now to confirm before the Xan prophet takes on representation of both orders. The blade requested will remain in the possession of the clerics. It will be placed within the vault and left locked, the key and the vaults location known only to myself and the Xan prophet. The blade will be only be released during the most dire of times against the forces of darkness when the order of Xionists presuming the agreement is formed, fail to keep one who proves troublesome in line and they prove too much for our own forces to handle.

As the artificer and keeper of our blessed tools I would see it surrendered to me by Ser Rosencrantz and the previous put into play.

I hope you are all willing to accept such terms, for it is the few it is the most you will get from myself. This way the blade is kept in our possession but is also not freely roaming the realms."

Nodding his head forward towards the gathering mass as he finishes his piece he steps back to Heruns side. 

"I apologise for any interruption."

"And just like that.. We crumble into war." The briefest of smiles grace his lips as he murmured the line purely to himself and the Ser Rosencrantz beside him before he fled from the Tahariaens side and made way to pace through the room and flank Herun now.

"In our darkest hour we must look to the light to guide us, brother Prophet." Lifted up a gauntlet to rest on his shoulder briefly before letting it slip and muttering back in return. "Head high, for I have returned and behind me an army marches. We no longer need to bend over to any who would have us desperate."

"Now, it has been decided the blade shall not be returned and I place the Keepers well being under my charge and announce to any who would see them hurt - They will face me."

"I can assure you if this blade is handed over there shall not be peace. I will personally defend our Xan allies to the very bitter end if need be. For these newer generations may have forgotten by I have not forgotten the service Xan and his lances played within the Setherien war. Nor will I forgot the bonds I made with the three I fought side by. 

If we hand over the blade we lose one of our most necessary tools of this war of impurity and weaken ourselves, buckling under threats and terror in our direction. You would give the blade to slay our allies the Paladins and negotiate with terrorists who threaten our kin, force us from our holdings and kidnap our brothers and sisters.

I knew you wiser then this, and with more zeal. It seems both age and office work has dimmed that. The clerics have and always will be hunted for their work unless we were to truly abandon Father an renounce our ways. The innocents caught in these cross fires are not of our own fault, while regrettable we do not start these conflicts so openly around others. Nor would they end, the conflict of Keepers would drag on and lead to a full scale destruction of cities if the keepers were to release their full power."

"Give him that blade, Ser Rosencrantz and see us crumble. Prophet, Father would never condemn the keepers to such a fate nor would he allow the passing of such a weapon into their hands. 

Tohand over an artifact we the clerics have had so many of our own killed to keep it safe is saying those died in vain to simply hand it back to them. Until Xan himself retracts decision of his Keepers on this realm they should be left be. They do not harm."

"A blade that has been fought over and drowned in the blood of many for its possession. It is a blade of ultimate neutrality until held by one of the opposing spectrum. It is also our highest deemed artifact besides few others, however I cannot go further into its history nor its ability."

He replied simply.

"The surrendering of Urthandl shall not be met, if I am correct in my most recent readings that was a made demand?"

He dragged his gaze down towards Ser Rosencrantz, then to the prophet ahead of him awaiting any words from them.

((Why do you wish to hurt me, Zarzar? My mistake, the whole not using no names and using descriptions to mark whether they're talking to someone is confusing now me as you mentioned towering man. My bad, void my statement then.))

"I no longer speak the will of father nor deem his judgement on this realm. Any who use their arts against the descendants of the realm will face a calling from the clerics of Tahariae from what I am to understand. If they do not confront me or harm my brothers and sisters without proper reason then I will not aimlessly hunt them. I do not argue your points so I do not understand truly why I am being asked to be brought to the stage. 

I simply say, I hunt those who fall from their ranks. The ones you dub rogues."

Letting out a harsh, hacking cough before attempting to return to his normal demeanour of silent observation, his eyes locked on his contender.

"I'm saddened, I was hoping such an event would play out similar to Sprats farewell.. Many of us capable to destroy each other but none willing as they respected the grounds they were summoned on. Gah."

His comments were idle to mainly to himself beneath his breath as the speeches persisted, beginning to pace round to where he might stand shoulder to Ser Rosencrantz and flank the Prophet without word further escaping him beside a bob of his head to the Ser cleric.

A further one makes attendance in late manner, clad in similar plate to a previously arriving cleric with a golden embroided tabard over his form. The hulking man considered a behemoth to some due to his unnatural height ungracefully made his entrance to the meeting without word and took up his place on the outskirts of the gathering. 

His grizzled and marred features stretching into a frown as he took the sights in of those he gathered with but made no attempt to speak against it in hopes to bring the least attention to himself possible. 

"Oh Ramza, oh Ramza.. Where are you hiding." The scarred cleric spoke out to himself as he finished his reading of the poster, then turning to his journeying companions and giving them a simple nod. "Ciris, Galan.. Best we gather the others. We won't receive a warm welcome but our brothers and sisters need us in this hour. Time to find this missing blondie." A smile crept his face as he faced back forward and continued onward.

A day of sorrow and mourn was in route for the aged knight, adorned now in his ceremonial armor he wore once before during the late King Olivier's death he remains stationary. Sat beside the fallen Ashfords grave as one hand rested on his warhammer planted firmly in the ground and the other clutching at the Esheveurd symbol pinned to his breast, the Savoy sun. 

"And yet another I fail to protect. My service shall not end, as I wait the Esheveurd reaper that comes to make claim of you, lad. Rest easy in the Seven skies knowing I will guard your resting place upon this mortal realm. I will not let him take another from me."

His neck craned upwards as he gazed onward to the surrounding lands of Savoy in silence. There the knight would stand guard for the oncoming week.

"For a century before my light has guided, for centuries more my light will burn onwards."

A conflict of emotion consumed the broken man as he was forced to twist and turn, his body lifeless but his mind instead writhing in a constant agony. His only solace, his only salvation gripped tightly in his digits as it radiated a warmth and silver hue. His eyes shoot wide and flinging his sweating frame upwards a rupturing wave of light washed over the room and he thrusted to spear into the air in front of him mindlessly. Heavy pants escaped him and his look of mindless fear began to fade, transitioning into confusion continually patrolling the room with his gaze in search of what horror lurked in the darkness of his room. A metallic echo of a deep cackle escaped and rang round the empty room, the door flung open at a swarm of black mist swept into the room with urgency. Within the depths of the mist emerged a crooked and rusted gauntlet, grasping out into the air in the direction of Daniel. He shook his head, uttering out a word of denial as he kept the spear tip pointed towards the submersed creature. "N.. No.." He managed out as he fumbled his way up to stand and scrambled out of the bed to his feet, his arm supporting the radiating spear shaking. The being's body pulled further from the grasping mist as it forced itself to escape from its dark bindings, clawing at a hurried pace, desperately reaching out towards Daniel as its echoing and maniacal laugh began to raise in volume and deepen in pitch. Drilling into his mind with each second it persisted. Daniel gripping the spear tighter and turning on his heel scrambling towards the second door of the bedroom to exit, bursting through with urgency as his panted breaths began to pick up and fear shook him down to the very core, glancing briefly over his shoulder to see the elder creature finally escape it's bindings and standing in full view to him now. The form dimly lit by the candles that dotted room showing a rusted and contorted set of armour, a blue hue to its metal plating. Motionless as it stood and watched the fleeing cleric, there laughing at the clerics decline was one of the eight, one Daniel had fought slain and gone from this realm and however it mocked the clerics retreat it did not remain stationary when it broke from its bindings instead beginning  to stomp forward each foot sending out a booming ring against the wooden floor, as if he was a hundred times heavier than the intimidating Harbinger looked already. Forcing his legs to work he forced himself onward as he sprinted down the seemingly never ending hallway were eventually a turn sought his attention, he twisted and pivoted his frame round to make for the right where he was met with a shadowed set of stairs and the ever growing mist of black covering the last few flights of the step.

A figure stood motionless besides one action of its body, atop its head sat a rotting and twisted pumpkin with a carved smile grinning onwards that caused Daniels body to freeze and lock up as shock jolted through his form as his already beating heart increased the creatures beading red eyes staring the man down. It's head tilted and with that one action a scream of anger and terror escaped the panicked cleric as he further continued to chant. "You're dead, you're all dead!" He spoke out in desperation repeatedly to remain what little sanity was left within his mind, failing. Finally he sprung into action once more and turned back to burst out into the hallway and continue down the never ending chasm for safety. Fleeting down further he saw at the corner of his eye a door swing open and the never ending waves of black mist burst from new source, a decrepit hand clawing its fingers round the door frame as a third figure emerged, one of the last prophets of Iblees entering. Not pausing to gawk and stare he simply kept running in his heightened panic, pushing further for exit to safety. Further and further as more figures escaped from the doorways that cluttered the walls of the never-ending hallway each their own history in his life, each their own slain creature in his memories dealt a blow by his hand; further they came, shades, necromancers, frost witch's, Harbingers, ghouls, wraiths, drakes and more escaped from the lock doors that were once his memory as the floodgates were realised and the ever creeping mist grew in volume. They stalked and chased him, each step he took . His eyes widened as he noticed to what waited for him at the end, a blank wall, a dead-end. No-where further to run in attempt to escape his outlying fate that would eventually creep up on him one way or another. As he slammed his shoulder to the wall, a thud and his body recoiling to fall to the floor as it would not budge he quickly scrambled forwards, fists balling and pounding against the barrier that prevented him from fleeing crying out his constant chant in hopes it would once again come true. “Dead, you’re all dead, dead, dead, dead!” He constantly cried. Eventually his actions began to die as the inevitable wormed its way inside his mind and he slunk further down the wall, hands reaching to wind into his brown locks and clutch at his head, shaking it repeatedly as he tried to force back the words that escaped them all. Each to their own spoke a word, a title he had been known by or they had dubbed him. The already growing fear of their sudden appearance and now the addition of their constant slurs and murmurs.

“Ivanus.”

“Cleric.”

“Paladin.”

“Warrior.”

“Holy One.”

“Itharel.”

“Judgement.”

“Fool.”

“Warrior of god.”

“Tahariaes servant.”

“Slave.”

He shook his head, curling inwards as his body rocked and he sobbed hysterically. The creatures crawling closer with each second, rusted gauntlets, bloodied or rotted limbs extending outwards to grasp out as the voices grew louder and louder, screams and shouts that rang constant. Finally the cleric snapped and in a final shriek his arm flung out, a brilliant silver light washing outwards and a wave of gruesome silver fire washed outward in a single wave as it consumed the encroaching darkness and eventually swallowed it whole. The light began to fade and so did the apparitions, his head finally raising from its cocooned position and heavy breaths escaped him. His sobbing beginning to stifle and fade as the voices dropped to whispers and then nothingness. There the cleric sat alone in an empty and dark hallway of his home, covered in sweats from his ‘night-terror’ that felt all too real. His body shaking uncontrollably and still rocking, heart pounding heavily. He remained in silence. Alone. Till finally he grew the strength to rise and the sweet silence that consumed the hallways became almost eerie. The former shell of the once glorious Itharel was obvious, hunched over and shaking, fear clear on his expression as he looked about uneasily at the few doors that littered the hall. “Alone..” He muttered quietly, to some truth. Loneliness he was used to, but never had he prayed it so much then. He was truly alone, as he always was. “Not quite..” A sinister whisper brushed against the back of his neck and his hairs rose, body freezing in terror before he jolted and twisted to see only empty space.

Was he truly alone?

C-county of Drusco.. Ree...