3andD

Feudalism=/=Republic ))

Shakes his head at the minuscule squire. "It existed in a former land, and no longer. It was given as a Titual title since it has no de jure claim."

Gnarly dude!

Goddard furrows his brow, "How can a titual kingdom have a military?"

This is a great character. =))

(( Right, then I'm quite exited to see what happens! ))

(( I assume that you'd be worshiping another god, rather then the creator? ))

Goddard chuckles, noting that they are a miniscule group who are definitely not knights.

Oh god what... No.

Goddard frowns, he hadn't heard news of his letter in days. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts he calls in one of his novices.. "Take this." he says, handing over a poorly copied of the last letter. "Bring it to the Grandmaster, as you did before." he says, pushing his novice off.

wow! I never asked for this...

Character Name: Goddard II Nicknames: N/A Age: 49 Gender: Male Race: Human, (Renatian) Status: Alive and well Marital Status: Celibate Description Height: 5'11" Weight: 180lbs Body Type: Average Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown Skin: Brownish-White Markings/Tattoos: Health: See above. Personality: Devout, Pious, and Zealous Inventory: Standard-Issue Lorraine Cross and his Clergy Habits. Further Details: Goddard, being devout all his life has taken the vows of St. Amyas, his appearance clearly represents a man who has taken the vows. Life Style Alignment*: Deity*: The Creator Religion: The True Faith/ The True Church of the Creator Alliance/Nation/Home: Salvus, Oren Job/Class: Pontiff, Archbishop Title(s): Pontiff of Oren, Archbishop of Salvus, Metropolitan-Bishop of Oren, Lord-Bishop of Salvus, and Abbot of St. Amyas. Profession(s): See above Special Skill(s): Divine connection(At least, I hope!) Flaw(s): Believes he's a reincarnation of Amyas, Celibate, highly-religious, and a slight human-supremacist Magic* Current Status: Arch-type: Sub-Type: Rank: Weakness(es): Strength(s): Current Spell(s): Weaponry Fighting Style: Verbal, never physical. Trained Weapon: His wits. Favored Weapon: His tongue. Archery: Biography Parents: Phillip & Alicia Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Extended Family: Brother Osterwald Pet(s): N/A History Born into poverty, Goddard always had taken an interest in the faith of Oren. Though his early ears, he studied within a priory; a slow but sure education. Upon his eighteenth birthday, he was ordained as a pastor- but instead took to the road, traveling across Asulon. By the end of Auslon, Goddard had made several pilgrimages to Amyas's grave, each time with more followers. He had taken Amyas as his patron, and would keep to the name throughout his life. By the fall of Auslon, and the exile to Elysium, Goddard found his way into Salvus. He took it upon himself to found a Chapel; St. Amyas's Chapel. Through the Elysium years, he though and educated many of the more prominent clergymen today. He also forged a lifelong friendship with Osterwald, who was, at this time his novice. From thereafter Goddard and Osterwald had taken to walking the roads together. Artwork

Goddard sits, eyeing the note scowling through the flickering candlelight. He pauses, dipping his quill into the inkwell and dropping it onto the parchment. "It has come to my grave attention that there is an Sanctioned Order which is under the Kal'Halla banner, this order, being yours. It claims to be a "Holy Order" but, this is false. It is not an Order of the True faith, instead it is an Order of a false religion; Dwarven Paganism. You will cease to call yourself the a "Holy Order" and cease to deceive the good people with your lies of a false religion. If you do not comply to with the Church's request, there will be consequences and action will be taken. Signed, -Pontiff Goddard I of the True Church of the Creator, Archbishop of Salvus, Metroplitan-Bishop, and Lord-Bishop of Kingston."

Nice.

A deep swing, the swords bite extending to the dummies shoulder, Gwenael grins to himself, arching his blade skyward once again. The hours seem to fly by when he was In front of the dummy, life stopped while he was beating the dummy, a sort of trance, which is what he liked to think of it like. But every trance has to come to an end. Gwenael turns from his dummy, panting heavily. The courtyard was empty, such a desolate sight. The keep walls and turrets seemed to scrape the skies, yet the courtyard was empty. Sheathing his blade, Gwenael shivers as the cold night breeze tickles his skin. It was night, and he spent his day training, again.

10/10 I've never met you or seen you RP, but I still love you.

Good luck.