_Stigwig

A letter reaches each of the applicants, whether via raven or messenger boy, crisp paper sealed by the plain Ashford seal. "Report to Peremont to be inducted, Brothers."

THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE GOLDEN CROZIER Brothers of the Crozier For we are the sword of Lucien; the shield of Lucien; the raised spears that catch the rising sun. We are the storm of swords, the song of steel: the song that sweeps across the strongholds of devout and faith-less, believer and heathen, paragon and sinner. The axe that splinters shield, the hammer that cracks skull, the blade that causes many a mother to weep her bitter tears. We are those that hold his crozier, and we will hold the instrument that supports his legacy. PURPOSE To those men of the Lord, devout and fearful of his wrath, there exists only one purpose - devotion in a service befitting of Him. The Brotherhood of the Golden Crozier, made up of men who have pledged their lives to the service of that order, exist to help purge humanity, all the races, of the shared degeneracy that recent ages have induced into it through vile, corrupt, degenerate means. A purifying force, so named due to its the symbol of the Saint Lucien and his belief in conservative, traditional family values so designed to restore order to the realm of Man. Soldiers, armigers, warriors; healers, medics, physicians; merchants, tradesmen, artisans; a dozen paths of life amalgamated into a single group worthy of such a legacy and the reconstruction of a great brotherhood. Those who preserve ancient and holy relics in the Brotherhood’s custody and those who travel out in search of more. Men who hunt monsters and cleanse such dangers from the roads of the entire continent, whether they be beasts in unnatural form, or brigands who prey on the innocent and poor. What is a realm without law and order; justice and arbitration? Defenders of the meek, poor and innocent. Guardians of the just and faithful. Located within the hinterlands of Savoy faithful and loyal men from all corners of the world gather in pledged service, their aims clear and definite; restoration to better times. The Brotherhood is not one simply of men, though, nor only Man. Open and accepted are elves, provided they be devout, and any others who desire to serve under such a blessed banner. APPLYING TO THE BROTHERHOOD In order to join the Brotherhood of the Golden Crozier, located within the lands of Savoy at Drusco, ((x170, z-2020)), one must either visit those lands, a cart is present outside Felsen, or submit an application to the Grandmaster via bird. These shall be registered as swiftly as possible, providing that the applicant is a male of fighting age. APPLICATION: OOC: Skype name: Username: IC: Name: Reasons for applying: Do you agree to PK if RP is done appropriately and well?: RANKS Discipline shall make or break these men, the cruel crack of leather on flesh; whip on skin, shall forge a force worthy of that furnace which is war. Discipline shall temper any band of soldiers for blessed battle. Every single man who serves in the Brotherhood is expected to obey the commands of a superior without fault or question - obedience shall be met with reward, and disobedience with punishment. (SENIOR COMMAND) GRANDMASTER The Grandmaster holds complete and total control of the Brotherhood; all those who serve within it are subservient to his command and that of God. His word is final and it is expected that all soldiers shall follow him, whether it be into peace or battle. The current Grandmaster is Denis de Bar, the first of that name. TRIBUNE The most senior of officers beneath the Grandmaster in the Brotherhood, elevated from the most competent of prefects, the Tribunes are experienced battle commanders who have shown their skill in combat, administration and leadership - equipped and empowered with the ability to command large chunks of men and serve as a competent aide to the Grandmaster. (LOW COMMAND) PREFECT Prefects are officers entrusted with the command of smaller units; oft in reconnaissance missions. Either experienced soldiers or red-blooded nobles, they have proved their worth to hold such a position and dispense their judgement on those that follow their words. DECURION Decurions are those officers entrusted with the whip, with disciplining rowdy soldiers and ensuring that even in the thick of a conflict the battle-line is held, and it is held well. Respected rather than feared, they hand out deserved punishments, and more often ensure that no punishment is required at all. (ENLISTED) All of the Enlisted are to be referred to with ‘Brother’ for formality. MAN-AT-ARMS Man-At-Arms are the backbone of the Brotherhood, soldiers who have proved their grit and demonstrated their mettle through years of service to the group; dedicated and experienced men who can be relied upon to maintain a respectable example for those unblooded who join the Brotherhood. FOOTMAN Brothers are those unblooded who have passed through their training and trials, going on to serve as full armigers of the group, respected as equals by all and as the men who make up by far the largest number of soldiers. UNBLOODED The unblooded are green-soldiers who are fresh to the Brotherhood; men who have not yet engaged in any fight or been through training. Always treated as newcomers, they are expected to look to officers for an example of competent behaviour while meshing with the current soldiers. (HONOUR RANKS) ENSIGN To be named as the Ensign, the man who is entrusted with the responsibility of holding the banner above the seething masses as a guiding light, is a great honour. If the Ensign were to fall in battle, the whole Brotherhood would feel his loss dearly; during the constant ebb and tide of battle he must lift his burden high above the men’s shoulders so that it can become a focal point for rallying. CHAPLAIN The chaplains are men schooled in holy teaching and thought, their hearts lit aflame by passion for His service. Men who recite litanies and chants, whether it be in the mess hall or the field of battle, their passion is able to beat the spirits of all their comrades into a similar fury. CHAMPION The Champion of the Golden Crozier, the hardiest warrior in the Brotherhood, is a title awarded to those who demonstrate the greatest competency within the entire group at martial work. Whether earned through conflict at war or on the tourney field, the title is constantly up for contest - an honour levied only upon the greatest of brothers.

A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "You are hereby accepted into the Order, Unoathed. Report to Peremont immediately. Godspeed!"

Denis had been there at the battle: a bloody quagmire of flaming shot and mounting bodies. A sky blotted black with bodkins and ferrum-tipped arrows that pierced through the plate of advancing forces to a screeching, screaming halt. Piles of bodies - piles of corpses that slowly oozed congealing blood. His blade had swung, harsh steel sliding off harsher plate; more arrow shafts bouncing off his pauldrons. Yet, for all the misery that he had seen, he had not seen Veryn fall. It had come as a shock to the Ashford, then, when the wounded and battered soldier made his ways to the worn gates of Geldern, under whose arches had passed so many living, dying, dead. The experience had seemed almost normal for Denis, numbed as he was to suffering, as he had gently traced his fingers through the blood that lay around the man; softly closed his eyes. As he raised from his knees and watched Brann weep, as he had turned away from the morbid sight. Then, it was done.

hot

A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "You are hereby accepted into the Order, Unoathed. Report to Peremont immediately. Godspeed!"

A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "You are hereby accepted into the Order, Unoathed. Report to Peremont immediately. Godspeed!" ((please +1 topic for acceptance

A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "Funny." A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "You are hereby accepted into the Order, Unoathed. Report to Peremont immediately. Godspeed!"

A letter is sent in response to the applicant, sealed in crisp golden wax; the crest of the de Bars taken upon the envelope. "You are hereby accepted into the Order, Unoathed. Report to Peremont immediately. Godspeed!"

You had a good run, don't think many others could manage what you did tbh.

God-Given (MC) Name: stigwig Chosen (RP) Name: Denis de Bar. I was baptized in: Leuvaarden. I am - ( x) Baptized ( ) Unbaptized I - ( ) Regularly attend mass ( x) Do not regularly attend mass ( ) Have never attended mass. I am a(n) - ( x) Noble ( ) Merchant ( ) Worker ( ) Professional Soldier ( ) Unemployed I live - ( x) Peremont ( ) A Keep within Drusco (Any) ( ) I am homeless If not already baptized, I - ( ) Wish to be baptized ( ) Do not wish to be baptized I - ( x) Identify as a Canonist ( ) Follow the Creator, but in another tradition ( ) Do not acknowledge the Creator ( ) Acknowledge the Creator but follow a different deity I am - ( x) married ( ) in courtship ( ) not in a relationship

House Name: House Ashford de Bar House Patriarch: His Excellency, Count Adrian de Bar. Patriarch’s Heraldry (Quarters): House Sigil/Motif: House Standing: Nobilis antiqui House Holdings (If any): The County of Drusco. House History (Brief): Founded by the third son of the Saintly Lucien I, Gwenael, the House took the name de Bar to denote their heritage from Gwenael's Viscounty of Bar. Gwenael sired a number of children but the most significant to history was his eldest baseborn progeny, Richard d’Aldersberg. Swiftly legitimised by his father he went over to inherit the flagging Order of Saint Amyas and lead its revival through a campaign into the Orcish wastelands, creating the Duchy of Junavos and aiding in the deposition of the Third Empire and the creation of the Fourth. He was slain soon after, leaving his inheritance to his eldest son Adrian who held the titles for some time, moving to Aldersberg, before capture by Orcs. The House went for some time without notice before its revival by Richard’s youngest son, Guy, who governed the Order during his brother’s absence and founded the prosperous City of Leuvaarden. Guy led the Order and his holdings through numerous conflicts, rising in esteem and prestige until his appointment as Lord Chancellor, coinciding with his brother’s return. Following the bloody Duke’s War in which Guy, now Duke of Drusco, played a key part, his kinsman Olivier de Savoie, King of Oren, died via misadventure. Leaving no apparent heir, the lords of Oren convened and named Guy the King of Oren, Adrian his Lord Chancellor during the brief reign. Despite laying the grounds for the creation of an Empire Guy was slain by a group of clergyman and holy knights, leaving the throne open for the new Emperor. His son, Sergius de Bar, inherited the titles for some short time but was executed and the titles passed on to the patriarch Adrian, now simply a County. Family Tree: House Words: Having previously adopted the motto ‘No words but deeds’, the ilk of Ashford de Bar later changed the words of their house to ‘No matter the cost’.

Updated following the group's reformation.

lotc players never die.. they just become undead.

Oscar of Norfolk pens in a short response: "As is cited from the Scroll of Virtue in the Canticle of Temperance: I am the Lord God without peer, and I grew the first grapes of the vineyard, and put into thy heart the pleasures of the flesh, and gave unto Horen the first wife. The Lord gave women as a wife for men, and as such are determined to be subservient. They are permitted to be Abbesses, yet not hold positions of governance over men."

Denis registers all the Vindicator votes for Darren in the important election.

An excerpt from the brief biography detailing the life and times of the Baron Johaness de Wett details Baldwin’s behavioural norms, Denis notes: “There he began a clandestinely sodomitic affair with Baldwin de Bar, the Grandmaster of the Lotharingian Order and King Guy’s nephew. For a brief while, the numerous conspirators plotting to unseat the king contemplated including the Baron de Wett in their scheme, however at the last moment they decided against this course of action on account of his growing unpredictability, exacerbated by a descent into alcoholism, his gluttony no longer limited by his wife’s meagre purse. Under Baldwin’s manipulations in a bid to turn the fickle madman against the sovereign, Johannes grew to hate the king for imagined slights, the chief of which being a rumour that Guy had claimed his wife’s maidenhood years prior to their marriage.”

I'm crying everyone's tears.

I caught a variety of syndromes and worse from Guck.

Denis frowns as he receives the missive, twisting to face his father before uttering a reply to the message within. "Infighting is never becoming of men; especially between such loyal retainers as this pair. Now is no time for hounds to bay within our door whilst another horde amasses beyond."

THE EVENTIDE OVERTURNED https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLij67M-e1M Thin smoke hung over the abandoned battlefield that lay betwixt Brelus and Peremont; carrion circled around the flayed corpses of travellers that fell prey to the bandit groups that inhabited the ruins - armigers that evaded the iron fist of Savoy and regularly burnt and raided poor smallfolk from Summerhall for the meager amounts of riches obtainable from a peasant’s hoard. Cracked and rotten logs had been pushed aside and propped against each other to form a crude oaken doorway through which scores of men had traipsed. Dark, ashen helmets atop dark, ashen surcoats - the only light a golden sun on the breast of each and every man - the Ashford sun. The sun that had led a hundred-thousand men to battle in a hundred wars, and led them to victory. The corps of men had marched across empty meadows and barren fields, past dying trees and verdant undergrowth that knew only the heavy march of mailed boots; had only ever known the heavy march of mailed boots. Vindicators, men of Esheveurd, soldiers beneath Amador, partisans of Ashford and more. A single, solitary banner had fluttered above the marching force - a field of black. Dark black. The centre of this armiger’s column had hid four men: the youthful de Saltpans, thuggish visage brazen; Ser Stonne, wearied and fatigued yet still of a strong build; two footmen elevated from the ranks due simply to their love for their fallen commander, to commemorate his end. Each pair possessed a dull, dark coffin that weighed heavy on the shoulders - coffins that cast off a brooding aura. The coffins of a King, and his son. These slabs were laid down before the feet of their brooding commandant, stormy grey eyes cast over the horizon as the force paused for rest amidst a burnt fort that the Adrians had once inhabited. Hard, pursed lips pulled into a characteristically brooding frown as he returned his gaze to the men before him: rows upon rows of men that found their only unifying creed that of Ashford. Denis de Bar opened his mouth to speak, and paused. A long pause, drawn out not for the benefit of the crowd but rather his own inner musings. Finally, he spoke - tone hushed and reverent yet also one that rose above the crowd, one that scattered watching birds from the branches of trees. “Too many Ashfords have died, whether by battle or sickness or their own cruel hand. Sergius, who was butchered by murderers that still walk free; Annabelle and Emelie - forced to take their own lives in the fear of others. Carden and Adelric, slain by opportunists. Butchered by traitors; Ferdinand who no-one knows of anymore, who no one but us will remember. Edmond, who was wounded by Adrians and then fell victim to their wicked assault.” “Guy.. Guy, who lived not long enough to see his nascent dream realised. Who was slain by men that he trusted. Men that we trusted. Guy, who saw his kingdom torn asunder and his plans ripped away from him. Guy, who died a ‘villain’.” “We were the Vindicators then, the men of Ashford. The men of Guy. We have sought vengeance for him, and God himself knows that we have taken it. We knew that our cause was just though; all men have enemies, Guy had many. Yet none of his enemies wronged him so much as in his final hour, in his final breaths! So thus, none of his enemies felt such as those that wronged him did. We avenged him - vindicated him.” “His death has distanced us from the ideals that we once held so core to our hearts, the vision that once rested in the forefront of every man of our company’s thoughts. Despair and stagnation made us weak, made us forget who we were and why we were fighting! Now is a time for a return to long lost ideals, a return to our dreams. “It is the time for us to once more revere the leaders who led us, whether under the banner of the Lorraine or the Sun to such victories! The men whose names will echo throughout the annals of history as those that twist fate itself around them: Gwenael, Richard, Guy.” “Men that do not forget the cause of Guy easily.” The subdued warrior stepped backwards at his final words, a silence falling over the crowd of men as if death itself walked in the midst of the milites. Then, a deafening roar. The slam of a thousand fists against breastplates and stamping feet. The growl of a thousand soldiers saluting their fallen, revered, commander.

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