Stevie

Thomas continues to exchange glances about the ballroom, finishing his fourth goblet of wine; its tangy nature leaving a foul taste in his mouth as he purses his lips a bit. To add to this dissatisfaction, his observations of the partygoers makes him grimace a bit, especially to the Dark Elf child(Who's alcohol limit seems considerably high) who arrogantly chugs from a bottle of wine. He grumbles, he grunts, and he grimaces; forcing him to bring up a fifth goblet of wine, taking a long initial swig as he turns to his brother, shaking his head in some disgust. "Still noone's 'ere, an' now there's Dark'uns drinkin' wine straight from the ploughin' bottle." He exchanges a chuckle with one of the Rose footman Peter brought along, as he gives another glance around the ballroom, seemingly searching for something, someone.

Thomas straightens his noble attire, tugging at the end of his shirt a bit as he takes another calm sip, his lips pursing as he chuckles at Peter's remark, nodding, "Well, I 'ardly say it was the grandest of meals, but sure beats the hard tack we used to grovel on fer so long." Looking about the ballroom once more, he frowns a bit, shrugging as he continues on, "Can't say I recognize most of the nobles 'ere. I can see 'alf of them 'aven't even shown up yet. An' by Nebenezer's balls Toov isn't 'ere yet."

[[stop encouraging him you fools.

Thomas turns about, hearing the ratcheting snaps of the several crossbows flying towards the boar and the man. With a sipping of wine he attained from a nearby servant, he clears his throat a bit, smiling as the man is certain to fall.

Thomas watches as the man urges his board past him, somewhat dumbfounded at his arrogance and grant to conduct such matters without drawing the attention of the guards most definitely stationed about the room. He shrugs it off, deciding to contemplate it some other time as he brings the thought of the event out of his mind, glancing to Peter with a smirk, stepping off to find a new goblet of wine.

Thomas glances over to the arriving boar and mounted figure. Chuckling at first, he scans his dress and attitude, seeing that this man is no noble, but simply a commoner who somehow managed to tame a boar, birth a saddle onto it, and ride into the Ball unannounced and unopposed. Glancing across the room to Peter, he gives a quick nod and a flick of his head, placing the goblet down as he steps off to meet the boar-riding man. Presenting himself to the boar-riding man, he asks a simple question, his commoner tongue and accent apparent as he speaks, "Well, wot do we 'ave 'ere? Seems we 'ave a jester to liven up our fun times. Perhaps this lad needs a Chivay greetin'..." he smirks, glancing over to his brother who is due to arrive.

Thomas looks about the ballroom, nodding to his brother and giving a less-than-hearty chuckle at his remark. Scanning about the festivities, Thomas swishes the wine in his goblet to pass time, soon responding to Peter, "Mmm... nevah seen anyfink like it. I still prefer our old parties we used to 'ave wiff the Chivays." He chuckles, gulping down the rest of his expensive, yet dissatisfying wine, "At least the drinks there actually numbed you up." Exchanging one more chuckle with his brother, he gives him a pat on the shoulder, adjusting his brother's large furs into a spot of discomfort as he steps off, managing a sarcastic grin. He makes his way across the ballroom, smiling and nodding once more at those he recognizes; bringing up another goblet of wine he had received from a passing servant. He eyes the dance floor, smiling that same less-than-hearty smile as he watches the couples prance about. It was not long before his plod across the ballroom that he caught glimpse of the Emperor himself, seated atop a balcony and overlooking the processions. With a snap in his feet he stands at some attention, giving a bow to Godfrey; regardless of his awareness to the Chivay. After some moments of solid posture, he arches his back straight once more, stepping off to one side of the ballroom, scanning once more with a calm sense of attention.

[[ Well, funny you mentioned that. The Order of the White Rose now has an official channel on Lord of the Craft's official teamspeak. To enter, you will need to be a member of the Order, of course, and little exception will be held. This is a step in the right direction for us, and we can be frequently contacted over teamspeak, should all other options be exhausted. This is sure to promote our cohesion and organization within the Order, as well as us all being able to get on and just talk, so I encourage all our current members to hop in there! :grin: And if you are lacking the password, feel free to PM myself, Viscen or Sheumgal for such. ]]

Thomas Chivay sits in his personal chambers, reading over a recently acquired Marian Dictionary, feeling strangely bliss at the amount of peace he has been afforded. For once, the bustling of Krak du Rhoswen was low, and most of the men had not come to bother or request the Lord's presence. The Keep was quiet, for the most part; the only sounds clear to the Chivay was the crackling of his recently fed fire and the turning of a thin page. This peaceful silence would only last for so long, though, as the abrupt rapping of his chamber door soon pierces his ears, an impulsive twitch startling him. With a closing of the book and a short inhale, Thomas bellows out to the door, permitting the one inside. The figure enters quickly, revealing himself to be a messenger of the Empire based on his attire. With a extending of his lanky arm, the messenger repeats what he had said behind the door, the words becoming more enunciated face to face, rather than behind a thick wooden door. "Message, my Lord. From the Imperial Government." With a low mumbling reply, Thomas takes the letter, deciding to ponder the seemingly hyper-extensive arms of messengers later. After a somewhat tedious process of opening an ink-sealed envelope carefully, Thomas takes a read of the letter, his regular solid face soon turning into a smile at the prospect of a Royal Ball. With a dismiss of the messenger, he rises from his chair, sliding the letter to the center of the table for later reference as he makes his way into his bedroom, bringing open the simple wardrobe and looking at his even simpler collection of clothing. Normally, the Knight-Baron would have been content with wearing his regular tabard and chain; but this was a royal ball, a special occasion if there ever was one. He chooses his newly fitted noble attire, one that he commissioned when he first came to their new citadel, but never had the opportunity to wear properly. He lays it across his bed and exits his chambers, seeking out the always helpful Tanith to fold and prepare these robes for travel. . . . Arriving now at the ball, Thomas adorns his new noble clothing which he had changed into a few minutes before entering. With a smile and nod to the Herald, Thomas inhales a bit, putting on a face fit to please and a posture to match. He stands his ground a few moments as the Herald raps his cane on the floor, announcing the new entry. "Presenting the Lord Baron Thomas Chivay! Honored Ser of the Chapter of the White Rose!" Presenting himself with a wide smile now, Thomas steps forward, showing quick greetings to the few nobles he recognizes and even to some he doesn't. He maneuvers himself into the crowd, exchanging smiles and gesturing nods to a few more attendants, mingling with the crowd. Although normally uncommon for a Chivay to exemplify this show of etiquette, the bearded Baron keeps his face strong and his attitude lifted, soon evolving itself into an enjoyed experience, rather than a mere charade. It was here that Thomas had hopes of introducing himself to some of the other noblemen of the realm, and possibly some of the ladies as well; always delving on the idea of a companion for his later years. It was here that he would make his face, and his name, a bit more known to Oren. And, with a newly received goblet of wine from a nearby servant, Thomas sets off to make these hopes reality.

Looking over the series of games to be held, Thomas smiles at the final option, deciding to compose a reply to enter the White Rose into the Faction Battle game. Faction Leader: Peter and Thomas Chivay Faction Name: The Order of the White Rose

The Chivay Family House Name: House Chivay House Standing: Greater House Hose Sigil or Crest: House Lands: Duchy of Westerland Liege House: House Horen House Family Members Living: In Asulon Ser Thomas Chivay Ser Peter Chivay Foltest Chivay Henselt Chivay Lorin Chivay-Blackmont Lanon Chivay Castor Chivay Robert Chivay Edward Chivay Rosalie Chivay Elsewhere Cantious Chivay [Deceased] Christina Chivay Brenius Chivay Kin Stennis Krom Sile Krom Kennet Aedirn Lorethos Basileus [Deceased] Bran Volsung Amalia Volsung House Family Members Important: Geralt Chivay - Dubbed 'White Wolf', Geralt is the first member of the Chivay dynasty. His hard work and dedication allowed the Chivay name to grow and expand in the Kingdom of Lyria. Blessed with amber-colored eyes, he secured status for his two sons and daughter, and ultimately kept the Chivay line alive. Geralt is also famous for being a former traveler and monster hunter, and eventually forging Gwynbleidd, the ceremonial sword of the Chivays. Henselt Chivay - Dubbed ‘The Unicorn’ by his peers, Henselt managed to secure and expand dwindling Chivay land after the Rivian Massacre. As well this, Henselt is renowned to having a dire hatred to Elvenkind, after the fall of his brother to a Dark Elf. [WIP] House Valuables: The Golden Apple of Henry Micklern - Rumored to be his most prized possession, this Golden Apple was received by the Ashford family after unearthing it from his home in Hanseti. The creator, or founder, of this apple, also left a note regarding it, making the status of the mysterious Micklern unknown, impossible to determine if the man is dead or alive. Sparrow's Beak - The Waraxe of Henselt Chivay, Sparrow's beak is a finely crafted golden axe with a black sparrow encrested on either side of the blade. made from finely cut obsidian stone. This axe has been passed down to the Chivay family, and is under the possession of Ser Peter Chivay. Gwynbleidd Rumored to be ancient Dryad for 'White Wolf', this blade has been passed down the Chivay line from its founding member, Geralt Chivay. Made of silver and steel, the beautifully crafted blade gives off a bluish hue, and has yet to receive a nick in its blade. The sword is currently under Chivay possession in Asulon, and is strictly used for ceremonial purposes. House History: The Chivay family is not a family considered ancient, in fact most of the Chivay’s history has not been recorded in Aegis or Asulon, and only few records remain from their northern homeland continent of Gaekon. Only now are these records being uncovered and placed in the newly furnished Chivay Manor. Secluded in deep forest and rolling mountains, the Chivay’s work to recover and rewrite their family history, starting from the first member, and recollecting back to what now remains of a once “great” family. Humble Beginnings The Chivays, long ago, were native to the Aon River Valley. Fertile and prosperous, the valley was the breadbasket of the Kingdom of Fornia. Life in the valley was simple yet demanding, always expecting seasonal quotas more often than not too high to even achieve. But besides the outrageous quotas, the farmers of the Aon Valley lived in comfort. It was only until after the Great Gaekrin War* that the Fornian Kingdom became really dependant on the Aon Valley’s output. Practically doubling the size of Fornia, the farmers of Aon were encouraged to expand outwards from the original Aon River, and increase each farmer’s plot by 200 acres. This forced the spreading of the closely knit farmers of the valley, who now had to sow their fields as far as the Konmar Mountains. One family in particular, jumping at the idea of “More land, more money”, settled a large area around a tributary from the Konmar Mountains; and the family was none other than the Chivays. For the first few years, the Chivay farmlands were stable and turning profits, some even calling them prosperous, and their success wasn’t going unnoticed, especially to the natives of the overseeing Konmar Mountains. Although dormant during the Chivays’ initial success, the ancient mountains would soon erupt in cadence with the eastern edge of the Kingdom, and plunge the Chivay family into a scene of deprivation and captivity. *Great Gaekrin War: The war between the kingdoms of Fornia and Naenon. The war was won by the aggressive Fornia, and established Fornia as the dominant power on the continent. An Unexpected Twist Excerpt from The Great Schism: A Prelude by Emreis Hunoa “The Dwarves, disgusted by the farmlands “scarring” the valleys in which they looked down upon all too often, chose to enact a series of raids to scare the farmers out of their defenseless pastures and into the protection of the local fortified town. For the most part, these raids proved effective. Almost too effective as the local militia was soon being organized by a commander from the capital itself. Recognizing this, the Dwarves of Konmar resorted to capturing several farmstead families in order to use later for a political bargaining tool. And although the life of a captive wasn’t luxurious, it was to be certainly beneficial in the coming months before the Great Schism**.” Hard times were becoming evident throughout Fornia, and it became especially evident when a multitude of raids were conducted in the Aon River Valley by the independent Dwarven clans residing in the Konmar mountains. Under pressure and signs of their weakness all too apparent, the Chivays were soon taken prisoner from these raiding Dwarves one winter night, and marched back to one of their many mountain fortresses, in which the Chivay children would marvel and tell stories of; always in awe at the Dwarven architecture and civilization. Although prisoners, the Chivays were treated with adequate respect and were placed into spacious cells with surprisingly high ceilings, despite the Chivays’ original thought. It was this strange treatment that allowed the Chivays to remain content in their imprisonment, and even take a liking to their captors, and vice versa. And so the Chivays, naturally stubborn and often ignorant, were able to soon coexist with the Dwarves of Konmar, finding many similarities and hardly much differences. To the Dwarves, the Chivays were seemed to be just taller Dwarves, and were often referred to as such. Although originally thought of as a joke, a few of the Chivays began to wonder about the notion, some going so far as to delve into deep research(To the limits of their Dwarven captor’s knowledge), and some even resorting to making this assumption into a reality... by otherwise questionable ways. What can be concluded however, is that by the time the Chivays were relinquished of their captivity, some of their newer family members had the blood of a Dwarf, and such traits would only be later demonstrated through the passing of generations. One thing that can be certain of the Chivays, is that they are not Halflings, but Half-Dwarves, and although accounts and proper documentation of the Chivays doings during their captivity under Kal’Konmar is limited, speculation and interpretation determine that the difference between a Halfling and a Half-Dwarf is evident in both body figure and general personality. To describe simply, the Chivays are Dwarven in spirit and attitude, but Human in body and mind. Looking at a Chivay, close examination would show they act much like their Dwarven ancestors, but retain their dominant Human traits for the most part, although some do demonstrate more “Dwarven” appearances in regards to height. As well as this, it is noted that Chivays have shown to have an extended lifespan by about eighty years, bringing the average lifespan of a Chivay at about 162. This is the clearest evidence that Dwarven blood runs through the veins of the Chivays; albeit not dominant, but surely noted. **The Great Schism: A civil war and interregnum that affected the Kingdom of Fornia. The war was won by the rebellious Duke of Lorian and Fornia was forced to cede almost all of its territories to lower claimants. Life Anew Excerpt from A New Gaekon by Robert Bruon “The passing event of the Great Schism brought in a new era for the Gaekon continent. No longer did Fornia dominant the entire landmass, but instead the Schism brought about the dividing up of Fornia into smaller kingdoms, duchies and principalities. Of course, with any division, there would come great dispute over land and resources, to the point where a legitimate claim was blatantly disregarded, and constant fighting plagued the land.” With the Great Schism at an end, and Gaekon divided up, the bargaining chip the Chivays were being used for wasn’t needed anymore; Kal’Konmar was no longer under threat. And so the Chivays were released from their “captivity” and free to roam the several infant sovereignties that now defined Gaekon. Traveling south from the Aon River Valley, the Chivays decided it was best to move on from the politically valuable valley and live a simpler life. The Chivays found that life in the Kingdom of Lyria, whose land was vital to the Great Southern Basin, as it controlled the Aralen Pass and all traffic that came south. This gave Lyria an important position in the politically unstable Gaekon, and helped to preserve its life throughout the years following its infancy; in which other kingdoms were not so lucky. And so it was here that the Chivays settled, and it was here that their family would grow once more, soon becoming a rather large and renowned house in Gaekon. The Chivay’s Success The New Chivay family had first started with the marriage of Geralt and Christina Pendon, who had wed in the city of Rivia. Rivia was part of a larger kingdom known as Lyria, and Rivia was the second largest city of the kingdom; being the main market center for the kingdom due to its location at the mouth of the Aralen pass. This marketing aspect appealed to the Chivay family in its earlier times, and allowed Geralt to become a well known blacksmith in the kingdom, with his fine steelcraft known throughout. This early success allowed the Chivays to marry into another considerably known house, the Happins, who were another family of craftsmen benefitting from Rivia’s market. Marrying off his son Edward, Geralt secured a standing for his son, and also caused the interest of the Breckenriggs and Kornom families to seek marriage with Geralt’s remaining son and daughter. These additional two marriages made sure the Chivay family would live on a few more generations, and such was true as even now the fifth generation has found its way south to Asulon, and have already begun to make a name for themselves. The Troubled Times Excerpt from The Rivian Massacre by Gaekrin Historian Kraeon “The streets ran red with the blood of Dwarves, Elves and Men. The fires and smoke billowed overhead as the sky turned crimson and black. No where since Gaekon’s first creation has such an atrocity been conceived, and the effects of this Massacre would run deep in those affected...” The Chivay family, although prosperous, could not stop the troubled times that were to strike down on Lyria. Being the first to receive all northern wares from the Aralen pass, Rivia was also the first to receive all northern sickness, raiding, and civil disobedience. Coincidentally, all three of these occurrences came to Rivia. First, the plague of Radovid, in which refugees and dormantly plagued citizens from the kingdom of Redania fled to Lyria to escape the plague’s deathly embrace. Little had they known, they were only furthering the spread of it, and soon enough the people of Rivia began sucummbing to coughs and drips. It wasn’t long until the city was engulfed in plague, and to make matters worse, the northern independent Principality of Kerrin was staking a claim to Rivia; subsequently raiding into the city to ‘claim’ the city under Kerrin. These raids, although causing only minimal damage to the city, led to an even worse mentality for its citizenry. Overcome by plague and the constant harassment of Kerrin’s raiders, the largely human population of Rivia had begun to use its non-human inhabitants as a scapegoat for their misfortune. These scapegoats, mostly Elves and Dwarves, were blamed for the coming of the plague and of Kerrin’s raids, as most of Kerrin’s population consisted of non-humans, with their Duke an Elf himself. The citizens of Rivia even went so far as to blame every non-human in the city of conspiring with Kerrin. With all of this boiling up, the cauldron was soon to spill, pouring out over the entire kingdom of Lyria, and causing what is today known to the kingdom as ‘The Massacre of Rivia’. Throughout the entire city non-humans were dragged out of their homes and killed in cold blood, and chaos spread as fast as the fires of the city. During the massacre, Henry Chivay was struck down by a Dark Elf, leaving his two sons, barely reaching into adulthood, orphans. The massacre died down soon after, and the two Chivay orphans decided it best to leave the city; to head south and start anew, away from the dying city and their homeland. And so, here in Asulon, is where the new generation of Chivays will come to live in. Already have a few straggling family members flocked south for refuge or fortune, and all have been welcome into the arms and fame the Chivays seem to be gaining in this southern continent. With this coming success, it wouldn’t be a surprise to see a new historian document the Chivay family in Asulon.

Dennis the Peasant stumbles in through the doors, his brown discolored rags that make up his clothing are drenched with rainwater. With the removal of his ragged hood, to which a patch was stitched on, he shakes his mottled dirty blonde hair out, shivering a moment as he makes his way off to an empty booth. Sliding into the wooden booth, he positions himself in the center, grinning widely, but not for show of joy. He wedges a finger into his teeth, picking out a few remnants of green from the grass he was eating prior to his arrival. Turning now to the approaching barmaid, he wipes his finger on his chest -- the rags being dirty and disheveled anyway -- and speaks to her with a low common tongue. "Oi, 'ow's about a rightful mug'ah mead fer a good workin' man jus' earned 'is daily bread?" "Certainly, sir. I'll fetch it right away." "Now that's a good girl, that is." Dennis leans back in the booth now, showing a grin with intent for happiness this time. He begins to whistle calmly, of a song all too familiar to him.

Thomas plods about the bustling streets of Arethor, sifting through crowds as he comes across a particular note, somewhat withered from the time it's been spent pinned up. Reading over it for a moment, he contemplates the note, soon deciding to compose a reply; making his way off to Rhoswen to find paper and messenger.

Approaching the secluded wooden walls hidden by forest and hills, the Chivay brothers stand before the hardwood gates, looking through to the long manor house they've come to know so well. With a rounding shout, so common of a Chivay, Peter calls to the manor, the peaceful serenity of the forest broken as birds and critters scamper away. For a few short moments, the world is silent. Startled and frozen the forest sits, once again broken by the throwing open of the manor door; a wide, grey-bearded figure stumbles forth, chugging from a large tankard of ale. The distinguishable Gaekrin accent and obnoxious demeanor sets this man as a fellow Chivay. Manners aside, and part of Chivay tradition, the wide man is met with stout replies from the brothers only a few feet away. "Well if it isn't our oaf of an uncle!" The older Peter shouts. "I 'ope we're not interrupting a good ploughing, uncle!" Says the snickering Thomas. "...Not that anyone would wanna plough that aging fing." Peter adds, both brothers smiling a familiar sarcastic grin. The stumbling man with the tankard moves to the gatehouse, grunting as he heaves the gate's lever, bringing the clanking wood up and allowing the brothers to enter. Stepping out to face the two, he speaks in slurred sentences, "An' now who-what's you two whoresons doin' back 'ere? I thought you nephews were off livin' in that Rhoswen keep." Thomas replies to his stammering uncle, who is all the more amusing when he is drunk, "We've come to visit a certain cousin, uncle." And just as Thomas finishes his sentence, a taller, younger, and seemingly elegant figure steps out from the doorway of the manor. Dressed in finer, cleaner clothes than his father, the man's face reveals no beard and is quite finely groomed, much to the opposite of the three other Chivays standing by the gate. The younger man now steps towards the trio, a calm smile over his face as he looks to his two long-missed and successful cousins. "Brenius? Wot did yer time in Jengar do to ye? I 'ope you 'aven't grown pointed ears in that filth of a Republic." "Of course not, cousin. I have only groomed myself a bit finer, to fit in with those Elves and others." "Jus' as long as you don't start writin' poetry and speakin' too proper like them..." Brenius flashes a smile, chuckling slyly as he places an arm around his slightly shorter cousin, looking to his father who manages to mumble an insult to his son through slurred speech. The group shared another chuckle as the uncle storms off, swaying about as he stumbles back inside, leaving the two Chivay brothers reunited with their cousin; who seemingly changed greatly during his time spent in the "free" Republic of Jengar. But for the time being, they rejoiced and celebrated, proud that another Chivay has come to join in the fortunes and wonders of Asulon. And during their celebration in the dining hall of the manor, a slightly bent figure enters, relying heavily on a cane as he stares lifelessly to the mantle of the fire at the end of the hall; a loose crown resting atop his head, just about to slip off. "...When did these two get here...? I know the concubines of Temeria didn't compare to here... but beards? This will not do..." And with that, the Chivay family was just about complete. Following up with a night of drinking and shouting, the Chivays were almost fully reunited, living much like they had in their homeland, one which was becoming a nostalgic memory to them now.

[[ I ask, out of the kindness, or cruelty, of my heart, to PLEASE review your posts before you go and post an almost unreadable block of text without so much as adding a period between those insane comma splicing.