CptShoelace

The ranger apprentice had walked the road twice before deciding to take the hunt. The first time, he listened. The second, he looked. By the third, he understood. Something was wrong. The forest should have been alive with sound; birds in the canopy, small animals in the brush, but there was nothing. No movement. No noise. Just stillness. A cart sat abandoned further down the road, one wheel broken, its draw-horse dragged off into the trees and left half-eaten. Whatever lived here wasn’t afraid of people. That was enough. He stepped off the road and into the treeline, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he went. This wasn’t about pride or proving anything. If the road wasn’t safe, more would fall victim. He found the tracks near a stretch of soft ground by the bank of the creek. They were big, too big. Deep enough to press hard into the soil, the weight carried forward like something built to lunge. Claws dug into the earth ahead of each step, long and visible. The ranger apprentice crouched beside the print, careful not to disturb it. Still fresh. The edges hadn’t crumbled yet. He didn’t follow it directly. Instead, he moved alongside the trail, stepping on roots and stone where he could. The signs were easy enough to read, broken branches, bark scraped away, the kind of damage only something large and careless would leave behind. Then he found the stag… It had been torn open, not cleanly killed. Meat ripped away in uneven strips, half of it left behind. The ranger apprentice frowned slightly. “Not hungry,” he muttered. “Just killing.” That made it worse. He took a moment to prepare before going further. His bowstring was tight. He checked each arrow by hand, making sure nothing was loose or bent. His throwing knives came out next, just long enough to test each edge before he slid it back. From his pouch, he took a bit of ash and rubbed it into his hands, then across his neck and jaw. It dulled his scent, helped him blend in. Not perfect, but better than nothing. He tested the wind, feeling it against his face. Good. He adjusted his path, keeping it in his favor. By the time the light began to fade, the ranger apprentice knew better than to keep moving. Hunting in the dark against something like this was a good way to die. He found a spot just off a low ridge, where the ground dipped slightly and the trees grew thick enough to break his outline. Not on the trail, never on the trail, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose it come morning. He didn’t build a fire. Instead, he cleared a small patch of ground down to the soil, brushing away leaves and loose debris so nothing would crack beneath him. His bedroll stayed tight and minimal, tucked against the base of a tree where his back would be covered. One side protected, the other open to watch. From his pouch, he scattered a thin line of ash and crushed leaves around the camp’s edge. Not enough to be seen, just enough that anything passing through might disturb it. A simple warning. He checked the wind again before settling in, making sure his scent would carry away from the beast’s trail, not toward it. Even then, he didn’t sleep fully. One hand rested near his knife, the other near his bow. Every sound, every shift of branch or brush, pulled him halfway awake. It was a habit more than a choice. The forest stayed quiet. Tracking like this wasn’t about speed. It was about patience. He followed the signs for hours, moving slowly, stopping often. Sometimes to listen. Sometimes because the forest felt… off. At one point, he realized he hadn’t heard anything for several minutes. No birds. No insects. That was when he knew he was close. The clearing ahead looked like something had tried to tear it apart. Trees were snapped or bent, the ground churned into mud. Another carcass lay in the center, already starting to rot. The ranger apprentice didn’t walk in. Instead, he circled around, checking the wind again before climbing an old oak at the edge. From there, he had a clear view of the clearing without exposing himself. He settled onto a branch, nocked an arrow, and waited. Time dragged on. The light started to fade. Then the wind shifted. He tensed. The beast stepped into the clearing slowly, like it had all the time in the world. At first, it was just a shape moving between the trees. Then it came into view, larger than any wolf he’d ever seen, shoulders high, body thick with muscle. Its fur was dark and rough, its body marked with old scars. This wasn’t its first fight. The ranger apprentice didn’t rush the shot. He watched it move. Waited for the right angle. Then he drew and released. The arrow struck deep into its side. The beast let out a low, angry roar and turned instantly toward him. Too fast. It charged the tree, claws digging into the bark as it tried to climb. The ranger apprentice dropped before it could reach him, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet with another arrow ready. He fired again. Another hit, but it wasn’t enough. The beast kept coming. There was no time for a third shot. He moved to the side, using a fallen log to break its path. The creature smashed through it like it was nothing, splintering wood as it came. So he drew his knife. When it lunged, he didn’t run. He stepped in. Close enough to feel its breath, to hear the snap of its jaws just past his shoulder. He drove the blade up under its jaw, where the fur thinned, pushing hard. The beast fought back, thrashing, its weight slamming him into the ground. He didn’t let go. He pushed deeper until the fight finally left it. For a moment, he just lay there, catching his breath. Then he carefully pushed the body off and stood. The clearing was quiet again. He got to work. First the arrows pulled free and cleaned, plucking heads from broken shafts. Then the skinning. He worked slowly, carefully. A good pelt was easy to ruin if you rushed it. The blade slid under the hide as he separated it from the muscle beneath, taking his time to keep it intact. It wasn’t clean work, but it was necessary. When the hide was free, he set it aside and took what else he could, teeth, claws, anything useful. The rest he left. By the time he made it back to the road, it was dark. The ranger apprentice carried the pelt over his shoulder, its weight steady and real. The road was quiet again, but this time, it felt right. Safe. He didn’t stop to admire it. Didn’t need to. There would always be another stretch of road. Another problem waiting. And when there was, he’d be there, same as always. Not for glory. Not for thanks. Just because it needed to be done.

Rat with a gat is burdened no more! Long live Crunchiest!

IGN: Sh03lace_ RP: Ser Griffith Glennmaer Nickname(optional): Discord: schu_64 Residency: Bia's hill 1, Garenbrig, Numendil Time Slot: Group B (Numendil)

So long as the White Tree blooms, so shall the Knights stand. The Knights of the White Tree are a revered martial order, established to serve as the enduring guardians of the Kingdom of Númendil and its people. Rooted in the noble lineage of the knights of Barrowtown, the Order was founded to preserve the realm through valor, integrity, and unwavering dedication to justice. Each knight bears a solemn duty to protect the kingdom from external threats and serve as an unwavering shield for the weak, the innocent, and the dispossessed. In peace, they act as mentors, advisors, and exemplars of virtue; in war, they stand as Númendil’s first and final line of defense. The Order exists to ensure the survival of Númendil’s ideals through strength, service, and sacrifice. Their oath is not to power or privilege but to the enduring spirit of the realm and its rightful harmony. The Knights are also charged with upholding the stability of the crown—but never at the expense of righteousness. Through the doctrine known as the Last Rite of Kings, they are empowered to act in defense of Númendil’s soul should the throne fall into darkness. In such moments, they become the sword and conscience of the nation, sworn to restore light when all else falters. As long as the White Tree stands in bloom, so too shall the Knights stand resolute—champions of the realm, protectors of its people, and eternal stewards of its honor. As laid out by Ser Uther ‘the Pendraic’ of Acre Written 88 SA. In memoriam of Ser Rolvald Thassion I Thou shalt maintain His Church and live piously. II Thou shalt constitute thyself the defender of All Canondom, regardless of rite, and shall never take up arms against the Church. III Thou shalt constitute thyself the defender of the innocent, the weak, and defenseless; to act else-wise is to dishonor the very concept of Knighthood. IV Thou shalt refrain from acts of wanton cruelty, to act else-wise is to dishonor the very concept of Knighthood. V Thou shalt give succor to widows, orphans and the dispossessed. VI Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy, and shall act always with valor, even if it leads to thy death. VII Thou shalt make war upon the apostate and the servants of Iblees without cessation, and thou shalt never leave the call to crusade unanswered. VIII Thou shalt guard the honor of thy fellow knights, and in turn act virtuously as not to bring dishonor to them. IX Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be not contrary to the laws of God. X Thou shalt always remain forthright and honest, and will be true to thy word, even if it leads to thy death. XI Thou shalt refrain from giving wanton offense. XII Thou shalt always respect and defend the honor of women. XIII Thou shalt persevere to end in any enterprise begun. XIV Thou shalt never refuse a challenge from an equal, and shall always respect the rite of single combat. XV Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse to everyone. XVI Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil. [ Grantor] “Do you, [name] of [name], swear to uphold all these tenants, on pain of exile should ye fail?” [Recipient] “I swear it.” [ Grantor] “Do you swear never to falter, to aid the foe willingly or unwillingly, knowingly or unknowingly, on pain of death should ye fail?” [Recipient] “I swear it.” [ Grantor] “Do you swear to be an example and mentor to your children and your taken squires, so they might carry on your legacy once ye fall?” [Recipient] “I swear it.” [ Grantor] "Then by the Cross, the Flame, and the Radiant Star, I charge you all this and more- To uphold all duties required of you by your station, and to act honorably, now and always." [ Grantor] "Arise Ser [Name] of [Name]- Knight of the Realm." [Both] “So mote it be.” The Last Rite of Kings is a clause which dictates that, should the reigning monarch of Númendil be willingly or unwillingly brought under the sway of the Forces of Darkness, it is not only expected, but commanded of all Knights of the Kingdom to either bring said monarch back into the light, or, failing that, raise their banners in rebellion and overthrow them in favor of the heir, or should succession be muddied, the High Steward. In the case where both the High Steward and the Heir are unavailable, regency is to be assumed by the eldest knight in service to the Kingdom. This is perhaps the only case among the Mannish Kingdoms in which regicide is not only permitted, but outright commanded per the founding principles of the Kingdom. Grand Knight The duties of the Grand Knight go beyond the typical responsibilities of a knight, as they are entrusted with overseeing the training and discipline of knights under their command, managing military strategy, and advising the monarch or ruler on matters of war and diplomacy. Knights of the White Tree A knight of the white tree is a highly trained warrior who serves as both a protector and enforcer of Númendil's laws. Knights are expected to uphold the honor and values of the realm of Númendil, which includes participating in battles, serving in military campaigns, and providing training to squires. Squires A young, aspiring knight-in-training serves under the tutelage of a knight to learn the skills, responsibilities, and codes of chivalry required to become a full-fledged knight. Typically, a squire is responsible for assisting their knight in various tasks, such as caring for their horse, maintaining armor, and accompanying them on missions or to tournaments. This role allows the squire to gain firsthand experience in battle, etiquette, and the duties of a knight while also learning the importance of loyalty, discipline, and honor. Knights are encouraged to display their own heraldry on their armor as a way to showcase their personal identity, lineage, and allegiances. This heraldic symbol, typically in the form of a coat of arms, was prominently featured on shields, surcoats, and even the knight's armor itself. It allowed for easy recognition on the battlefield, distinguishing one knight from another, while also serving as a mark of honor. "Knighthood isn't a privilege; it's a duty.” - Ser Alwyn Glennmaer A knight may take on a single squire. When choosing a squire, the individual must be a citizen of Númendil or willing to take an oath of loyalty to the kingdom. Additionally, the candidate must be at least fourteen years of age, ensuring they are mature enough to begin their training and responsibilities as a squire. This combination of loyalty and age ensures that only those truly committed to Númendil and its ideals are entrusted with such an important role. The fundamentals of squireship include a variety of important topics that are taught alongside other essential lessons on the path to knighthood. These include an understanding of Númendil's rich history and culture, the study of Beastia Colectia, and the guiding principles of the Canonist Tenets. Additionally, squires must learn the basics of battle, focusing on combat readiness and strategies (CRP), to ensure they are well-prepared for the challenges ahead. These teachings provide a well-rounded foundation for the squire's future role as a knight. It is noted that should a squire become missing for more than a Saint’s month without contact, that the knight may select a new squire. As well as if a knight is unable to continue training, that squire being trained may enter the service of another available knight. The Trials of Knighthood are a crucial step in a squire’s journey. The squire is tasked with embarking on a quest set by the knight training them, where they must return alive and victorious. In the case the knight has seen that the squire has gone exceedingly above and beyond their duties that may substitute for a quest. Once the knight believes the squire is worthy, they may seek a meeting with the Grand Knight. If the Grand Knight deems the squire worthy, they will then speak with the Tar, who will decide whether to grant the honor of knighthood. This process ensures that only the most capable and deserving individuals are elevated to the rank of knight. Credit Writing: @sh03lace_ and @simplyseo Formatting: @KidKrinkles

Sir Nygel, My name is Ser Griffith Glennmaer, a veteran knight-templar of Númendil. I offer my blade and experience as a swordsman and traveler. I have been to the throat of the world and back, wielded flame against those who prey upon the weak, all in the name of the Aengul of Courage. I am eager to join this journey of yours. Flame Guide, Ser Griffith Glennmaer ((Discord : Schu_64))

IC: *Khubuc sat in his home the dim light of his lit cigar flashed across his face as he hears the news of his friend, saying quietly to himself "Rest easy now, friend". OOC: I understand that it is hard to work with those that don't have the same passion for something as you do. The server needs more people like you and the dedication you had for the dwarves rivals the paragons. It's been a real pleasure rp'ing with you my friend, wish you all the best for the future

-=[] Clan Irongrinder []=- Khronumurrum -=[]=- -=(History)=- -=(Patron Gods)=- -=(Clan Relics)=- -=(Trials)=- -=(Clan Leaders)=- Clan Father: Kubuc Irongrinder ((CptShoelace)) Elders: Kalgrimmor Irongrinder ((Z3m0s)) -=(APPLICATION)=- Before you apply feel free to speak with the clan father or an elder for help MC Name: Character Name: Character Age: Short Bio: Lineage: Skin you intend to use:(One can be created or modified) Discord (Name#1233):

A saddened Khubuc sits alone in his empty hall after hearing the news of his friend. His face remains emotionless, yet compassionate which slowly turns to vengeful.

IGN: CptShoelace RP NAME: Khubuc Irongrinder AGE: 164 ACTIVITY REQUIREMENT: Clan (Legion, Guild, Home Owner, Clan List) CANDIDATE: Dorimnur Goldhand

_-=-_A Flickering Ember_-=-_ Drops of water are the only sounds heard from the halls of once a great clan of Urguan. Tattered banners of gold and charcoal shift in the breeze… A lone dwarf thinks to himself in the lonely halls “I ‘ad ‘eard maneh ‘ad lef’ but I did nae t’ink t’ere wuld beh noone ‘ere.” He walks to the hearth and begins to pump the billows as the smoldering embers turned into a blaze. The warmth hitting his face as he dusts off a chair pulling out a tome and begins to write in it. It reads… We are broken. We are weak. Once was mighty, shall be mighty again...

IGN: CptShoelace RP NAME: A. Irongrinder CANDIDATE: Durorn Ireheart

Name: Ragimund Eberhard IGN: CptShoelace Where you hail from: Savinia