wolfdwg

✠ For a long time now, the Grand Knight had been embattled with dawi merchants and egomaniacal dawi councilors. That ended today. With his Imperial Majesty's declaration of the annulment of his father's unfavorable treaties, Sir Arn breathed a sigh of relief. "They think themselves separate from the world. Alas let the Hermit Kingdom of Urguan feel the blockade of those who'd ire the Dragonsblood's Wrath." It wasn't long before missives were sent to the various vassal Kingdoms, Protectorates, Duchies, and Counties of the vast Imperium. "Bar the halfmen from the mines. Strip them of all belongings should you find them, tresspassing." ✠

Within the Imperial Throne room sat the sole ruler of the Imperium, and a lone Grand Knight at his side. “Imperium Eternal.” Sir Arn comments. “But two states left to bend the knee to you, your Imperial Majesty.” - “One of which’s fate is soon to be decided.”@Werew0lf

"Hm... I think it prudent that there was only one Kharajyr slain, and most of the captives taken back to the Midden. We didn't even face resistance, how does a Rex with no peoples think he can wage war against an Imperium? Like the Empires of old, when bored, crusade the uruks." The Grand Knight made an observation as he spoke from a dais in the Knight Hall of the Red Dragon. "22,000 Knights..." the Grand Knight sneered, "Sixteen good men was all it took to effectively take over their capital for one hour."

"Ave Imperium," Sir Honeywine the Grand Knight said. A new era of Man was on the horizon. A future that lies in uncertainty and wonder.

✠ The Grand Knight sat amidst the Knight Hold within the back of the city of Rittersberg. He recalled the many battles he had shared with the Emperor. How he as a young boy looked up to and admired the one eyed man who had risen from ashes, to become the unifier of man. He remembered when the Master of Mankind had granted him the title of Sir, then Chaptermaster, and then the Grand Knight of the Emperor, the enforcer of his will. In that time of peace after the Cataclysm of Aevos, Sir Arn saw the Order of the Red Dragon re-envisioned, and swell with young blood. "Tiberias, you are a great man. It was an honor to serve as your fist. Perhaps it might be time to allow a new generation to helm our project. Flame guide you, my friend." Sir Arn sat there in that office, he was truly the last now amongst the old guard. Of those who shaped the Empire.

In recent years, it has come to my attention that there is a growing confusion and assumed segregation between the two chapters of the Imperial Order of the Red Dragon. I hereby abolish the archaic and redundant orders previously established under the 'chapter system' within the Imperial Order. There is only one Dragon Knight, one knighthood, that will serve as retainers to the Dragonsblood. One Order to lead and inspire the common man to do great things. Let it be known that this vision has always been something that has brewed in the back of my mind, when, for a time, I was the only Dragon Knight still remaining after the tragedies that befell my forebears. The silent poison of hubris, the notion that one chapter might rise above another, has long unsettled me. We are the blades at the side of the Imperial Throne, forged equal in purpose and resolve. I have chosen and elevated those whom I have deemed useful and shown their loyalty. Each has demonstrated their aptitude through their trials, and each has shown they will fight side by side against darkspawn, brigand, and traitor. No longer will we fly dual banners of Sordryn and Gudour. We shall only fly the symbol of the Pertinax line: the Red Dragon on a black field. Furthermore, it is declared that all lower knight orders, local troops, and faith-based militants must follow the commands of a Dragon Knight, who serves as the extension of my will and that of his Imperial Majesty. These warriors are expected to adhere to a code of honor and integrity above all else; thus, they are entrusted with their noble duties and expected to serve. That is to say, too, that a Dragon Knight found abusing their station will be drawn and quartered for tarnishing the name of his Order, his Emperor, and the Almighty. All lords and their forces are expected to do everything possible to support the retainers of the House of Dragonsblood. Any hesitation or outright resistance to their efforts will be considered treason. Let it be so decreed, and the Light of the Almighty’s flame never dim. AVE IMPERIUM! ✠ HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Tiberias I of the House Horen, by the Grace of GOD, Emperor of Man, Holy Imperator, King of Burgundy, Seventis, Salvus, Renatus & Oren, Duke of Middelan, Helena, Lorraine, Sunholdt and Reutov, Baron of Pestilles, Protector of Grense, Protector of the Heartlanders, Patriarch of House Horen & the Tiberian Dynasty, Captain-General of the Church, Defender of the Faith. BVRGVNDIA IMPVRIVM HIS IMPERIAL EXCELLENCY, Sir Arn Honeywine, Grand Knight of the Empire of Man, Ordermaster of the Order of the Red Dragon, Fist of the Emperor. OFFICIUM ET HONOS

✠ On the morning of the 16th of Aurelian’s Glory, 627 AA; the marshlands between the Province of Norland and the Duchy of Kvasz were host to the first-ever Imperial Duel. A year before the grievances of Antoine de Savoie, of Petra and Ulfric the Tall, of Norland were heard before the Grand Knight of the Imperium, Sir Arn Honeywine. It was there that in the halls of the Imperial Palace of Rittersberg, a decree was made. An honor duel was to be had—a duel which could end the life of another. “Surely one would yield? Madness to throw one’s life away.” Sir Arn Honeywine towards Captain Tancred, before the Duel of Wounded Honor. First to arrive was Antoine de Savoie with his host of Rivermen and Savoyard Banners of White and Black, depicting the sun of Ashford. Clean plates and sallets. As expected of a southern house of heartlanders, with all the pageantry and wealth on display. Next, Ulfric and the Nords and Norns of Verdegrad. Banners of Red and Black depicting the burning tree of the Province’s Red Faith. Maille and leathers accompanied by thick mantles of hide and fur for the colder climate. Nothing unusual for a hardy and minimalist Highland people based on survival. Before the duel began, Sir Arn spoke with both Hedge Knights and asked if all affairs were in order; both men assured the Grand Knight. Next, a summons of representatives from both sides. Antoine sent his son, Alexandre. Ulfric sent the late High King’s son, Haraldr. Seeing the young boy who now much resembled his father pained the Grand Knight’s heart. He had grown. Grown without a father, that should have been there. The terms of each side were as follows: “What are the terms of Antoine de Savoie to Ulfric the Tall?” “He is to be exiled from the Highlandic Province of Norland, made to pay an apology to my father, and my father’s ban to be lifted from Norland.” Alexandre de Savoie to Sir Arn and Haraldr Ruric “And of Ulfric to Antoine?” “Antoine is to be handed over to the Province of Norland, subjected to our laws, and receive proper punishment.” Haraldr Ruric to Sir Arn and Alexandre de Savoie Upon the terms being exchanged, the Grand Knight sent both back to either side of the arena, to deliver the terms of each other’s opponent. With instructions of denial should neither acquiesce to their foe, step into the ring. First, the Nord Ulfric launched himself over the fence, then Antoine de Savoie stepped in. Chants of fervor filled the air as the Nords screamed their signature words, and the Savoyards and Rivermen replied in turn. “Then before the Almighty and the All-Father’s guise, let honor guide your blades.” Sir Arn at the Duel of Wounded Honor The duel began with a slow walk, as both men circled each other. Ulfric wielded a one-handed axe and a bronze shield. Antoine wielded a mace and a shield. Both weapons were solid choices. Sir Arn weighed them as he stood inside the arena, witnessing the men: one to cleave and hew, the other to shatter and break. Not weapons of finesse like swords, no, these weapons were made for savage combatants. The two tussled about exchanging blows, with perfect shield blocks; the sounds of crunching metal and the hewing of wood resounded throughout the clearing. It was then that the two became interlocked, grappling with each other’s armaments, attempting to gain an advantage. Then, the terrain betrayed Ulfric. The marsh between the Heartlands and the Nordlands was a mire to say the least. Torrential rains had soaked the grounds days before, making the soil slick with mud. Antoine, seeing his opponent falter, began a ruthless assault on the Nord with vicious blows from his hammer onto Ulfric’s shield. Then Antoine’s legs were swept out by the prone man, using his axe to hook the Savoyard's leg. The duel became a vicious struggle in the mud. Martial stances? Years of practice? Honor? No, survival was on display as the two attempted to straddle each other for leverage, before Ulfric prevailed. Using his larger form, the Nord began to strangle the Savoyard with the haft of his axe before turning to dig his axe blade into the plates and chains that protected Antoine’s neck. In desperation, the Savoyard grasped his rondel and drove a strike towards Ulfric’s neck in retaliation. Raising his free hand, the dagger plunged into the palm of Ulfric, straight through. With a moment of pain, Antoine bucked Ulfric off and sent the Nord rolling off to the side; however, the Nord’s axe ripped and rendered the protection around Antoine’s neck useless. The combatants returned to their feet. The polished plate and the pristine brigandine of the respective foes were mired in muck and grime. The two only briefly assessed each other before flinging themselves, like rabid dogs, into the fray. In the melee, Antoine was delivered a graze to his neck, exacerbated even more by a following shield strike. Red ichor dripped down that now besmirched plate. Finding a gap in the Nord’s defence, Antoine then replied with a rondel strike into Ulfric’s neck, puncturing the thick maille and scale that made up the Nordic armory. It was a graze, but now a sputter of ichor as well, then spattered Ulfric’s armor. Seeing a chance, the Nord’s axe was then sent to bury itself in Antoine’s neck. Slashing it open, a spray of viscera painted the mud. Wheezing and dying, the thought of yielding was unfathomable to the Heartlander, choosing instead shared damnation, and sought again to rise and strike Ulfric. This time, a slash slit the Nord’s throat, not enough to outright kill the drengr, but enough to cause worry in some. With a roar of defiance and bestial wrath, the axe again was swung, and a head was sent from its body. All the while as the men fought, Sir Arn stood there beholden to the carnage he had seen time and time again in the previous wars he fought. Honor is a fool’s idea, he thought to himself as he watched Ulfric fall to the ground; his life too was draining fast, his breathing hoarse and ragged. “The duel is concluded, Ulfric the Tall stands victorious, but on death’s door… Will the All-father too embrace him?” The announcement turned into a question; the Grand Knight’s consciousness spoke aloud. Surgeons and Medics, both Nord and Heartlander alike, rushed to save the life of Ulfric. The family members of de Savoie, and his lover, went to their now deceased, wailing and in grief. The scene was chaotic, and overall, it was headache-inducing. “I need a drink.” Sir Arn to Captain Tancred of the Imperial First Legion The Duel of Wounded Honor was concluded; it was a place where Honor went and died. ✠

Wild that we have to wait for changes to a system the whole community loathes. Tone deaf as always.

Glad my prayers protected your sanity squak, kinda boss you got this done in three days.

"The hells themselves cannot stop me. If our allies in Caurost require aid, the Order of the Red Dragon shall answer," remarked the Imperial Grand Knight to his Dragon Knights.

The Imperial Grand Knight looked at the missive report that landed on his desk. Scanning over the contents, a smirk appeared on the weathered face of Sir Arn. He picked up a quill and parchment himself, and began to write. A glance was paid to an imperial seal nearby. Some time passed and a runner from Hall of the Order of the Red Dragon ran through the twisting streets of Rittersberg, heading towards the palace.

I pray for all the Vault Team members who are about to review hundreds of vaults...

In recent months, a debacle of minute proportions has gone awry. A duel had attempted to transpire within the Highlandic Realm of Norland, in the walls of their capital, Verdegrad. A Petran hedge knight, Antoine de Savoie had acted braggart; he threw insults of honor. Allegedly, from what I have been told by the Legate Aetius of the Imperial Second Legion; some words were directed to the young Haakonansson. Nords are not a people to idle upon slanders, for in my experience their temper runs hot. A hedge knight named Ulfric had answered Antoine’s comments with such, issuing what the Nords call ‘holmgang’—a duel. The contents of the duel are debated, but the issue stems from when Antoine attempted a lethal blow on Ulfric. In which Ulfric responded, trying to sever Antoine’s arm. Perhaps seeing the tides turn, or not wishing to stow the flame of a now enraged mob of Nords, Antoine sought flight. Under a lone tour of his Imperial Majesty’s Imperium, It is here where I draw myself into the narrative. Within the Riverlands of Petra, I had happened upon my fellow compatriot of his Imperial Majesty’s Privy, Archchancellor Ledicourt de Senna. Being informed of the events, from Antoine’s perspective through Ledicourt, and bearing witness to a potential escalation as the former Archduke of Petra, Sir Therin sought to send a missive to the High King of Idunia. Not wishing for a repeat, similar to the Massacre of Vjardengrad years prior on a now ruined Aevos, I sought to have the two aggrieved hedge knights ‘complete their duel’. With both parties in attendance, I had made my decree at the first Imperial Court and as the highest Office of Chivalry. Antoine de Savoie and Ulfric of Verdegrad shall enter into single combat north of the Duchy of Valwyck and South of the Highlandic Province of Norland on neutral grounds. A field between two rivers. The duel shall be overseen by myself and my order, the Imperial Order of the Red Dragon, and potentially any auxiliary units of the Imperial Legions. At the end of this year, it is here where the Duel of Wounded Honor shall play out. Until one of the combatants succumbs to their wounds, or yields to their opponent. The Rules are as follows: ✠ The combatants shall fight with a martial weapon of their choice. It cannot exceed the properties of Steel. ✠ The combatants may at any time within the duel yield to their opponent; their opponent must honor their defeated combatant and cease all actions of hostility. If they fail to honor this, they shall be forever branded ‘the Dishonorable’, deemed craven, and hunted down. Their punishment is hanging. ✠ The combatants may not engage in spellcraft, wytchcraft, or infernal magicks. If one does, they shall be forever branded ‘the Accursed’, deemed craven and hunted down. Their punishment is burning alive. ✠ Any outside interference shall be dealt with accordingly by the Imperial Knights and Legionnaires present. The sentence is escorted out of the grounds. Another repeat by a previous offender shall be sentenced to summary execution on the spot. It is so decreed. Let the Almighty deem who is truly victorious in this bout, and let honor guide your blades. A V E I M P E R I V M HIS IMPERIAL EXCELLENCY, Sir Arn Honeywine, Grand Knight of the Empire of Man, Ordermaster of the Order of the Red Dragon, Fist of the Emperor. OFFICIUM ET HONOS HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Tiberias I of the House Horen, by the Grace of GOD, Emperor of Man, Holy Imperator, King of Burgundy, Seventis, Salvus, Renatus & Oren, Duke of Middelan, Helena, Lorraine, Sunholdt and Reutov, Baron of Pestilles, Protector of Grense, Protector of the Heartlanders, Patriarch of House Horen & the Tiberian Dynasty, Captain-General of the Church, Defender of the Faith. BVRGVNDIA IMPVRIVM

Current crafting system is fine, costs need to be lowered, especially leather. Maces/Warhammers need an actual function, i.e. Slowness III for 1 second, Blindness for 1 second on a proc hit. Make it the chaser weapon. As for war in itself I’d like to see a return of Warzones when prompted for empty tiles. How’d it work is War Server would turn into a pvp map over the current place, limit access to sign up sheets but have respawns enabled/rejoin allowed. Week long fight with perhaps certain parts of the day to have a KoH mechhanic where at the end of an allotted time, the Victor gains a point in warscore. End of the Week whoever has most has control of the region. Main issue is the field fights are empty and have no depth. I see warzones that can br an alternative to allow combat over a week period so not all stress is put into one day of the week that tech/admins/mods/players have to all give up for. Meanwhile the warzones could just have any mod free at the time during the week long fight to watch at the very end to determine the victor. Just my thoughts as an old head.

I personally as a lover of nexus would like to see a similar return of the plugin. But I know this to be a dream and nothing else. Ultimately I recognize the fact ppl want a streamlined system, but I don't want gear to feel meaningless. Im ok with the system as is but for a few changes to be made. Maces/Warhammers actually applying a stun debuff. Leather usage being drastically cut 64 leather -> 12 leather for a suit of armor. If we had to change I recommend we go to a Anthos, Fringe, Atlas, and the map after Atlas (I forgor) system. Probably to me were the best iterations of pvp/mechanical combat. Iron Kits. Shield, Bow, Steak. As for anything additional. I think the Zerker axes from Atlas were quite an interesting playstyle, sacrifice armor for higher damage. Aswell as keeping the current system of Cavarly and Anti-Cavalry would be fine. Lances affecting other horsemen and infantry. Pikes the infantry’s defense against a cavman. Also I think defender default/guard default should be the system we should swap to. Conflict in it of itself has been, absent outside of war/wartime, regulated to uninteresting spook villian coming to waste your time with “you may have defeated me He-Man, but i’ll be back!!” skeletor larp. Even after its all concluded you will have taken 3 hours to reach a conclusion in which should’ve been handled in no more than 30 mins.

As conflict brewed within the borders of our most Holy Imperium, I was content to allow the conflicts of squabbling nobles carry on, without my involvement. But, I cannot be idle when a serpent tries to create division and poison the vulnerable with betrayal. When one attempts to use their position as a man of the cloth to recruit spies and informants, that is no holy man. For that is a worldly man, enamored with the arch traitor’s influence, and wholly sinful. And thus, I, as a follower of the Almighty, and a servant of our most Holy Imperator, must break neutrality. Father Drusco, you are a Godless serpent; worst of all, a traitor to His Imperial Majesty. Your schemes are brought to light before the throne of Horen, and to that of the entirety of our Holy Imperium. Not only this, but the recipient was my own daughter. For that I cannot forgive you. Therefore, for his Imperial Majesty, the Almighty God, and most importantly for my daughter's innocence, I must act. I have no other choice but to enter the fray on behalf of the Emperor of Man to uphold law and order. Lords and Ladies of Drusco and their allied folk. My terms are thus: ✠ Imprisonment of Father Drusco, and for his custody to be handed over to his Imperial Excellency, Sir Arn Honeywine, Grand Knight of the Empire of Man, Ordermaster of the Red Dragon, Fist of the Emperor. To receive his Imperial Majesty’s justice for Treason against the Imperial Crown. With this in mind, I hereby command the Imperial Order of the Red Dragon, The Imperial Guard, and all Imperial Levies to go at any lengths to capture Father Drusco. Those who would harbor this snake shall be treated as brigands and bandits, and be dealt with accordingly. I call upon those of you noble and righteous of heart to aid me and my Order, who bear witness to my decree. From the honorable sons and daughters of Norland, Reinmar, the Ravenstates, Farlands, Oyashima, Idunia, and my beloved Middenland, hear the cry of justice from an aggrieved Father. Be you Lord or Lady. Sir or Dame. Hedge Knight or Mercenary. Levy or Serf. I will welcome you on our quest to end this scheme. May the Almighty’s Flame burn away the rot. A V E I M P E R I V M HIS IMPERIAL EXCELLENCY, Sir Arn Honeywine, Grand Knight of the Empire of Man, Ordermaster of the Order of the Red Dragon, Fist of the Emperor. OFFICIUM ET HONOS HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Tiberias I of the House Horen, by the Grace of GOD, Emperor of Man, Holy Imperator, King of Burgundy, Seventis, Salvus, Renatus & Oren, Duke of Middelan, Helena, Lorraine, Sunholdt and Reutov, Baron of Pestilles, Protector of Grense, Protector of the Heartlanders, Patriarch of House Horen & the Tiberian Dynasty, Captain-General of the Church, Defender of the Faith. BVRGVNDIA IMPVRIVM

"This... This cannot be..." Sir Arn Honewyine collapsed to his knees when he heard the news of a passing of perhaps the most kindest woman he had every had the company of outside of his wife. She was a old soul that had taught the rather stoic man that there was more to life than blood and steel. The flowers, the honeycombs, the banter, it was now gone. A lit candle within the Grand Knight's heart went out, leaving nothing but void and flickering smoke. Joy was once again replaced by emptiness, and most of all... grief.

In the bustling valley of the lodenlands hosting the various daily tasks of Reinmaren, Albans, and Grensefolk, sat a Dragon Knight cladden in their black armor seated in a ornate chair. The figure sat there mulling over a tome of historical text depicting the history of the Schismatic War that had embroiled the realms of man in Athera. The knight would finally speak to a figure not too far off from him, "Tension brews, and the Druscans at the source. I had hoped cooler heads would prevail, but once more. Blood shall stain iron," came a stoic observation to the current events taking in the backdrop of the sundering of the continent they inhabited. "I can only pray Roger sees the odds are indeed, stacked against him..." The Grand Knight of the Imperium, Sir Arn Honeywine concluded before flipping a page. @Heartesy Meanwhile... Outside a barn house in the midlands a lone halfling traverses a winding dirt path, departing southward and away from the Capital City of the Empire of Man, Grense. "Pfft.. glads I ain't got nuffin' to dew with that scrap. Ain't no stake ain't no point." Kaedwyn spoke in reference to the conversations he'd overheard in the tavern. "'sides, I's gots bettah things tah dew!" the halfling would gesture to his thumb, a spark of mageflame would conjure briefly before being dispersed. The purpose, perhaps to simply amuse the man on the long trek ahead.

A host of Midden levies, Imperial Guard, and Dragon Knights set out in the evening hours from Grense. Atop stallions and mares they marched into the lands of the Principality, and there they entered the halls of Castle Waldemer. Upon the declaration of the Grand Knight, the seized Norlander was freed from their bindings, and brought back to the Midden. Shortly after a brief time in the barracks the Norlander was sent on their way back northward. A statement was then penned and issued to all sworn vassals of the Empire. "Norland is to be untouched, do not defy his Imperial Majesty's peace. This is your warning." HIS IMPERIAL EXCELLENCY, SIR ARN HONEYWINE ORDERMASTER OF THE RED DRAGON FIST OF THE EMPEROR

Lyonel of Dunharrow, loyalist Nord, Foil of the Fennic and Reiver cavalry, one of the last men standing at Helena, recalls the final moments of Helena from the Allfather’s halls.

It was within those halls of the Imperial Palace, that he had learnt the news. The Chaptermaster of the Black Dragon would nod to the messenger before folding the missive he received, and placing it into his satchel. Footfalls echoed throughout the hall as lodenland plate met the masonry. With each step, Arn had begun to feel the weight of it all. First Calias, then Vangelis, and now Sirius. The three Mareno Dragon Knights, whom he had seen battle alongside with, were now gone. Under the trees at the Cordelie Winewoods, to the many walls and fortifications of Balian they had sacked together. Arn Honeywine now stood alone. He had seen the foundation of the Empire, and now a fallen Daemon sought to ruin not only all the plans his former compatriots set on, but sought to bring ruin and death in the name of authoritarian madness. They had been routed at Valdev, and again at Cerulia. However at the ruins of Winburgh and on the fields of Westmark, the forces of the Mountain had been thrown back. Be they of the True Faith or that of the Red Faith, it mattered not, for in unity the defiant cries of those sons and daughters of Horen rang out in victory. Sir Arn Honeywine continued to walk down the hall before looking out into the main garden plaza. A sense of renewed determination washed over him, for even in the face of loss and grief, duty remained. The Mountain will fall.