Publius

A craftsman eyes nearby mountain, imaginative... “If we had a bulwark so far south,” Said the man in Markev, looking to his fellow soldiers. “Perhaps we would not need to worry for some time!”

Across the lands, couriers would ride hard from the South with stern gazes and ragged packs. Unless they were prevented, they would seek the criers of all settlements they had come across to holler the following: “Could they write this any smaller? Hrmph… DEAREST CITIZENS! Trouble brews near Markev; the dead rise only to take up arms! Evil forces are at work, and already have done combat with the Haensetic Royal Army on occasion. Following an expedition past the Czena river, it is revealed to us now that they march on the capital! Though they have each time repulsed the wraiths so far, it is now the walls of a city, and not the shield wall of men at stake - the citizenry is at stake. To the glory hungry and daring, to the bold and brave, act righteous and stand with us! Should you only come equipped with honour, worry not; simply send word and you shall be armed and transportation paid for. Send word down to Markev addressed to Hadrian Clovannus, and if the least of your concerns is losing your nerve, you will receive a warm welcome.” So there stands the crier, scanning the crowd. A brow lofted, he stops and gazes at you - is it a sign, or does he think you are interested for having heard the whole announcement?

“All is for Honour.” A Clovanii hunting cabin along the confluence of the Czena river during the Golden Hour. Preamble Not oft is mind payed to the stoic brothers and sisters who mind their crafts more than ambition. An austere lifestyle was rather uniform for the many craftspersons and bannermen across the Southernmost Atlas territories. Simple focuses and refuting indulgences constituted greatness though. Innovation flourished under these stern and studious sons of the mountain, and the sense of duty their people felt never leant opportunity to treachery. Originally from the mountains of Western Lotharingia, these men and women were cut from a different cloth than the Heartlanders that occupied Metz and the Goldfields; they looked not to the wealth and sophistication of the Savoyards and Auveringians for guidance, but the legacies they were to uphold. That of the stalwart and vigorous Kaedreni men, of the Ilatian discipline that made strong the de Sola’s and thus Augustus. Not all though kept these focus’ in mind, and whence the Flaetnamese forces of old smashed the mountain shield of Lotharingia, the Clovanii Clan was reduced to nothing more than a large family. They did not go east and embrace their cousins; they would fight for their way of life, or seek to live it elsewhere. With the peace upheld by Leufroy d’Amaury and the western lands ceded, to fight was hopeless, and so they left for Asul. Struggling by through farming and hunting, their fortunes took a turn for the worse as the people of Axios were driven to Atlas. But the uncertainty that gripped the world as they resettled made for much opportunity.... Children of the Mountains and Their Ways Men approach the Clovanii keep to hold council with the Patriarch of the house, 1544. During the rule of John I ‘the Relentless’, the mighty host of Augustus d’Amaury bore the weight of many conflicts. Initially a mountain clan of ancestor worshippers, the Clovanii served initially with the Norlandic levies of Lorraine. Whence they revolted against Augustus though, the Clovanii sided against Norland. They remained peasantry, and even distrusted in Lorraine for their beliefs and initial loyalties, and so never rose to prominence for this act. Details of their involvement have never found print, but the family prided itself by having the oral traditions passed on to the locals and their sons alike. Though some may say their disregard of writing and reading borders ignorance, men of the Clovanii are taught to be great orators or warriors, and eldest sons always are encouraged to pick up crafts that may advance the station of the family. Prideful yet industrious, one would be hard pressed to find a lazy man amongst their kinsmen. Many times though did they find their social status wax and wane, as the patriarchs failed to find balance in their dealings. Some traditions had to be banned outright, such as carrying out executions by tossing bound men down mountainsides, or breaking one’s spine to make them impotent should they be caught committing adultery. Alas, vigilante justice is still often conducted with little to no investigation from either the Patriarch or elders. Similar to the Turken banners that aided Augustus, the pride of the Clovanii was being able to live life on horseback and live in the grasslands rather than fields of farmers. Raiding, crafts and mining was often more than enough for the clan to make a living, but the obliteration of their holds in the Mountains ranges of Southern Tahn brought about many recent changes to their way of life. Since arriving on Atlas, they have settled off the Czena river near Markev and Hunhaga. Many serve in both Curon and Haense. Many folks of the family opt out of swearing fealty to a lord, opting instead to serve as errants in the lands they have the most respect for. With the trouble brewing in the wastes of the deep south, many have taken again to their martial roots. Perhaps the clan will rise again, so long as they remain guided by honour... OOC Information With this house, a lot of niche cultural RP will be observed, and those interested in joining need to be sure to play a consistent character. My goal with the family is just to have many colourful characters help paint a wild mountain-man picture. Furthermore, I will be coordinating with ET’s to hold events often, and Clovannus family members are very welcome to join. Also bear in mind that for the time being, the family is indulging in peasant RP and will not be seeking noble status for some time. This includes smithing and crafts RP, lots of hairbrained adventures and hanging about courts as more servants than guests. It is of paramount importance that anyone who joins is willing to play to their character and not themselves - each character ought to have an archetype so that one does not project onto it. You must be willing to accept that the appearance of the character, in terms of fashion or otherwise, will need a fair bit of deliberation beforehand. Loyalty to the House is expected. In roleplay, there is little discord between family members, and acting against another member of the family will be considered an OOC matter without sufficient roleplay instigating it. For more in depth commentaries on relations between individual members, message the patriarch (The_Contemptuous). Notes - WIP Applications will be considered as I flesh out a family tree. I will be coming up with rather clear archetypes people may choose for the characters in the coming days, and perhaps a culture post if there is enough interest. Minecraft Name: Timezone: Real Life Age: Why do you want to join House Clovannus?: Skype (Yes/No): Teamspeak (Yes/No): Discord (Yes/No):

If only Leufroy was a strong as he was treacherous, he would be a kinslayer. The astral Odo grieved, having trusted his own son to metaphorically have his back, before having a stab at him.

Pandemonium in Alban, 1621 Walking through the streets of Alban, his mind festering with hate at perceived betrayals and slights, Odo marched on. On the hot Sun's Smile day, it seemed that 1621 would be the last year the sun would smile on an era, as the pious and self-righteous man moved to settle the issue of honour he had instigated against the young King Stephen. Wearing the uniform that had once been made for the man in times of war, he strode up a hill, his eyes alight with fury. Hilt in hand, he marched up to the area Stephen called him to just days prior. Everyone looked on at their brief exchange, and the old d'Amaury offered his gaze back with both suspicion and paranoia; would honour truly rule the day? Would God watch over him as he wrung justice from battle? The two arrived in the town square, guards clearing the way of commoners. A brief yet passionate exchange quickly followed suit - before treachery sullied the day. Having been keen to arrive to Alban upon the news of the coming duel, Leufroy 'the Cuckold' sought to assassinate his father Odo. So dizzying was it, that he came to fight for his family and people's honour, only to have his trial by combat interrupted by his most grievously insubordinate son. Striking him away, his head swam - so total was his embarrassment and shame. So tragically ironic that it was his son's dishonourable actions and insubordination that would put to rest any questions of Lotharingian and d'Amaury prestige; the boy stabbed at Odo's back, but only struck dead what pride was left in the Heartlands for their once great house. Turbulent were the proceedings, as armed Flaetnamese men intervened, first striking down Leufroy, then brutalizing the old man. His tormented features signaled the agony of chivalry, and the death of an era. King Stephen was spirited away by his guards, and being dragged about with an arm nearly lost was Odo. The once-King's questioning of Northern honour drove them to protect him in what could have been seen as karmic spite, but the man had broke upon his family becoming dishonoured. Unwilling to heal from his grievous wounds, he perished soon after as a bloodied, pitiful mess. He who once saved his people from the treachery of the independent states, seen their end truly come by the hands of his kin. And so burdened with sorrow did they say that his spirit may linger, the man avoiding the gaze of Augustus in the Seven Skies. The woes of Leufroy forever undone the Lotharingian pride, and justified further the conquests of Romstun. None would hail d'Amaury with enthusiasm again.

Odo layed near death, at the mercy of the men who he set out to duel. His son Leufroy may have tried to assassinate him, but all that would lay slewn from Stephen and Odo's interrupted trial by combat was the d'Amaury prestige and honour. Should Odo survive, he would not receive news of his sons survival with anything but frustration and disdain of the highest order - the boy was a bastard to him now anyhow.

The only thing you write of reason is itself a misinterpretation; I speak on seccession from the Kingdom of Courland. You bid me to bandy words, but truly, you make it sound noble that your honour was absent in your rule so you could grow powerful. You were too fearful to even declare yourself an ally of my people after striking down those who bore over you. Lastly, you speak nothing of the wrongs you and the Empire begot my people. My only failure was in overestimating Northern honour - a folly I may once again be victim of, for I will heed your call to duel. Perhaps another d'Amaurys corpse will be presented to another indifferent Emperor, but at least I will not be doing so as a King sworn to him. Post a missive in Metz regarding the when and where, and I will arrive. For even in my old age, I will heed the call for steel. The letter would be left unsigned and without greeting. (pm me within a day or so if you're interested in actually duelling n I'll be sure to notice)

"Orenian terms of vassalage to Lotharingia was the skin of the signatory and half its land - truly, I wonder if the Emperor is more kind to rebels than his own subjects." The old king comments idly, a pain in his rear ceasing further elaboration.

"Odd is it, that this Empire was formed through letters itself. Perhaps I am a fool to forsake it!" Odo would jest telekinetically to Khaine, also giving a telekinetic wink.

"I remember whence I lent Lotharingian men to toil with the Ruskan snakes against Courland for trying to deal with their rebellion with half men. Woe to humanity, that the Emperor of Oren now boasts the title of Grand King-Consort for the same reason." A missive would be sent across the lands, circulated by the agitated Lotharingian diaspora of the Flaetnamese war. Dated the 8th of Sun's Smile, it reads as follows: Hail to Heartlands, News has reached far and wide of the continuing follies this incarnation of the 'Empire of Man'. To the great disdain of those non-committal to hypocrisy, me and many Lotharingians recall our current Emperor and his most unparalleled ineptitude; the allowance of the Flaetnamese army to sack and secure the Western half of our once proud land out of simple weakness being the first and foremost among them. Never before has their been more opportunity for those less worthy, lest it was a conspiracy against another vassal of Oren - I digress. My heart is burdened with guilt, my short reign followed by extreme hardship and torment again for those who looked not to the d'Amaurys, but the Horen's for salvation. I discarded a treaty with the once mighty Courland in the name of God and Canon, despite proving capable allies against the Mardonese mercenaries. Perhaps Peter Sigismund, for all his weakness, worried simply because he wed my sister as the late Staunton's wed my cousins, and so set upon fellow canonists in a craven act. What shocks me most greatly though, is in an Empire where only Ruskans seem hold sway, that they so easily forget what had hardened the resolve of my men and many others against the Staunton rule - the intervention of Dwarves. Responding to their involvement, and demanding they sit out and fight their civil war, I sought to liberate the north with honourable houses such as Ruthern after Courland flatly refused. Woe to them, for they faced the wrath of humanum for nothing more than signatures. Knowing the inability to appeal to his fellow man though, I recognize why the failures of John V and Peter Sigismund. Because of course, why negotiate, whence you may murder all who oppose you and call it peace? Better yet, why not leave the killing of men in this Empire of Man to Dwarves? Truly, I see nothing but folly across the Empire, as cuckolds and weaklings commit to whatever it takes to preserve their titles. Had any aside from lords, or the privy of the feeble Emperor be allowed to chose humanities course, perhaps honour would be restored to our race. I know for a fact the people want not war, as it seems every realm has let the blood flow freely since the North's secession. Long gone are the days of Vydra, long gone are the days of cultured Savoyard and Johannian rule. Upon us instead, are days where men are nearly indistinguishable in legacy from that of disease in which a pond of scum or a rat may afford any and all humans foolish enough not to reject it. The Emperor is fortunate to be the patron of the weak and foolish, for only he and his subjects would strain so hard to bow so low. Never has an Empire of Man offered so little, and cost humanity so dearly. In disdain, Odo d'Amaury

Odo and the displaced mountain men of west Lotharingia recieve this news in disgust.

Sad*