Cleggmire_

Application RP: Name: Dimitri Age: 19 Affiliations, or Past Affiliations (IC, not OOC): None. Experience, if any: Mercenary work Place of Residence: None Are you willing to PK if the proper roleplay permits?: Yes OOC: MC Name: Ajax_Kingslayer Discord (For an invite): you have it Any questions or comments you may have: none Application reviewed, and accepted. Welcome to the Vigil.

THE EAGLES VIGIL, MILITARY CODE The Vigil is the professional standing army of Courland. This army includes all subordinate nobility pledged to the Duke’s cause. The men and women serving in the Vigil are stalwart soldiers capable of keeping the watch and acting according to the policies set before them. Section I: Tradition Motto: Stand Honorably, Stand Respectfully, Stand Readily. By tradition, Westmarch has been apathetic toward religion, however; as anointed, the Holy Orenian Empire has the final say, and Westmarch follows canonism. However: those of other religions, though not heretical, are permitted to practice in the military. This is to the extent that they do not impede another soldier’s ability to perform. The military is open to all races that understand and can speak, properly, the human language. The exception to this is the Kharajir. This race has been deemed unfit to serve in the Westmarch military by the Duke, and are therefore barred from enlistment. The Eagles Vigil is a professional military, and must present themselves to the public with a professional attitude at all times. This includes being respectful, and honorable. Committing a crime whilst bearing the uniform will not be tolerated. There has always been a bard in the military. The bard is a respected member, as he brings morale to the men, and is expected to bring merriment during celebrations. There is a watchstander at all times. The watchstander must note and pass on any information gathered during his watch to his supervisor, as well as present himself as the direct hand of the Marshal. This is an extremely important duty, and all who stand are the pinnacle of professionalism. Section II: Discipline Discipline is the most important ideal in the military, for it is what separates a soldier from a peasant. Care for one’s armor, grooming, and respect for military tradition is of utmost importance. Failure to uphold the Vigils values means a failure as a soldier. A soldier must keep his gear clean and in good condition. The soldier must respect his living space, keeping it clean and tidy, as it is subject to inspection at all times. A soldier must obey and respect all officers, nobility, and standards not cased. A soldier will present name and rank upon inquisition from all outside entities, with the exception of current hostiles. When performing watch-standing duties, the soldier must remain in a watch-standing station, except to transit to another watch post. When being relieved, regardless of rank, the watch-stander and relief will salute, stating “We change watch at this hour, and so the Vigil continues.” When watch-standing, all guests must be noted, and all situations reported. If in doubt during a situation, a supervisor must be reached. Section III: Rank As it has always been, men must be led, and those chosen must lead, whereas the rest will follow. Rank is the hierarchy of the Eagles Vigil, and the word of the Duke is above all. Senior Command Lord Marshal The Lord Marshal is the master of the Eagles Vigil, in war and peace. He is charged with leading the war effort, and ensuring security and peace throughout Westmarch. Commander The Commander is a skilled strategist, entrusted to lead the military alongside the Lord Marshal. He is chosen from the officers that display the utmost of merit and loyalty. Power over a specific section of the Vigil may be assigned to him. Decurion The Decurion is a stern and charismatic disciplinary that is well-versed in the principles of discipline and stewardship, often spending time with newly-enlisted soldiers to educate them. They also are expected to organize and establish drills and exercises at which all members are encouraged to attend. He is in charge of all training being accomplished, and all discipline being handed out as appropriate. He is charged with making sure the watch schedules are formed, as well as training times. Command Lieutenant The Lieutenant is in charge of ensuring the relationship between officers and enlisted are strong. He performs routine trainings as given by the Decurion, and ensures patrols are being accomplished. Ensign An Ensign is an officer of more manciple tendencies, heading matters such as recruitment, and keeping track of pay. He gives training to the men, and ensures proper procedures are being followed. Enlisted Decanus The elite of the Vigil, the Sergeants are the valiant warriors that have dedicated their lives to attaining discipline and willpower. Once a soldier has proven his prowess in battle, he may be granted such a rank. Decanus wield minor authority, however they are in charge of leading patrols and keeping discipline within the enlisted ranks. Man-At-Arms The Men-at-Arms are the imposing product of the Vigil’s intensive training procedures, weathered soldiers who have been exposed to the rough of battle and have prevailed. They are the backbone of the army. Footman Having endured the drillmasters’ harsh discipline, the Footmen have shown their potential through both adherence to the hierarchy and an aptitude in the martial practices. Although untested by battle, these capable loyal soldiers have earned the respect of their brethren, their fellow order-men. They are prepared to serve the Duke, to enforce his law, and to present a professional output towards the environment. Initiate The new blood of the order, the Initiates have yet to take the oath and to prove their worth. Tasked with grunt work, and subjected to the harsh discipline of the Drillmasters, these green young men are evaluated and pushed to their limits over the course of their initiation, at the end of which they are assigned to the watch. Though young and inexperienced, these aspiring soldiers comprise the future of the Eagle’s Vigil. Application RP: Name: Age: Affiliations, or Past Affiliations (IC, not OOC): Experience, if any: Place of Residence: Are you willing to PK if the proper roleplay permits?: OOC: MC Name: Discord (For an invite): Any questions or comments you may have:

Ser Reynault Fournier laughed; and oh did he laugh, as his blade was enveloped with glorious red liquor. Alec the rat laid ‘pon the ground, his teeth missing, and his breath reeking of local wench. “That’s what you get for sucking on elven toes.”

Ser Reynault Fournier signed the document.

Reynault Fournier sat morose on the ground before the gargantuan keep in the Duchy of Courland. He peered down at his armor, still corroded and rusty. The campfires burned brightly that night; outside of the keep. One by one, he removed his armor, and let it fall into the enveloping flame. “I borrowed this armor with intent to repay. How else could I repay the debt you requested, but to send it to your god.” He muttered, alone in the dark. The armor crackled, and melted under the inferno, as Reynault looked on; he booted the earth briefly before trudging off, back turned to the fire..

Petition to Receive Knighthood Name (and House if applicable): Reynald de Chatillon Age: 20 Liege Knight: Ser Septimius Bracchus. Were you a Page?: No. Were you a Squire?: Yes. Reason for Knighting: When the great levy of Lorraine and it's tenants migrated to Atlas to once again replenish the good name of d'Amaury, Reynald was a young squire under Ser Bracchus at the ripe age of sixteen. In the ensuing migration, he assisted in deflecting numerous conflicts against his Lordship by way of banditry and internal affairs at a lower level. Once settled and properly vassalized under the great house of Horen, Reynald once again took training under Ser Semptimius. When his life was contested by brigands during a patrol in Adria as a levyman of the Honor Guard, He played his cool under the wise supervision of his Lieutenant, Ser Septimius. Gathering the men under the Lorraine banner together, he swiftly defeated the horde. Upon hearing this, William Gromach, Commander of the Honor Guard made him a Sergeant, and so indeed, he trained the soldiers subordinate to him, performing numerous feats in service to the empire, including beheading traitors to the empire, and defeating foreign infidels. Liege Lord: His Lordship Margrave Hughes d'Amaury Potential Lands: An estate on the outskirts of the Barony of Belcrest.

Reynald de Chatillon clasps on the parchment before him, printing out a sentence in cursive as he cast a solemn glower onward. "A Great man."

Reynald de Chatillon sits beholden to the parchment on his lap detailing the exploits of the d'Amaury. "For indeed, the men loyal to what they believe in are rewarded unto themselves."

Ser Aurelios clicks his heel against the ground as his throat grows sore of his constant bellowing, "Ave Lorraine, Deus Vult! God bless the king!"

"A fine bliss of a Holy City from His Holiness, and from our Lord the Creator," Aurelios would state, his palms wrested loosely behind his back as he stood proud upon the city crenelations.

Aurelios strides upon the scene, flanking the congregation gathered to execute the traitor, his ramblings drowned by the roaring crowd demanding his decapitation. The man would shout belligerently, incoherently screaming about liberty, and tyrants taking his land. Aurelios would scrupulously observe the scene, before lowering his voice as the young king stood to his right. "Majesty, to what means are you executing your vassal," He'd state, followed by a placid reply, "The man locked his gate upon our approach to speak with him about his absence from our land. He shoved this declaration through the narrow crevice in the gate, before screaming about this being his land and his land only. Therefore he had forced my hand, requiring him to be put down before he caused any conflagration upon my denizens of this Holy Kingdom," He'd reply. Aurelios would then grow quiet, observing the decapitation by Brother Bruce with an ominous glower. The blood of the traitor swept through the square, before Bruce would raise the body, and the head, proclaiming his stain upon society before clearing the body from the street.

"The old man is a fine piece of nose." He'd state, smiling slightly.

God, that was one of the best ones but it was so recent I forgot

Joining Amyas + watching legoboy get smashed in my first raid Duke's war sitting in the Peremont chapel at 1 am rping with altiak while raevs sat outside Punching Kallimar in the face after Guy de Bar died Watching burketma countdown and say self destruction imminent, and d40ing Getting lashed 100 times I have a good story to where I was speaking with this young lady on my character, and a large orc happens to stumble by, and we dipped into the mountains where the now orcs were looking for us, and we ended up in Luciensport from Drusco. Or the time when I locked up the red rose tavern and interrogated an elf upstairs, and had a couple Amyas soldiers downstairs beating peasants with blackjacks while I had kallimar cut the elf's ears off Marrying Gleeshers and having a borgia moment with Warmetal Watching ponder jump and miss a one block ledge Playing guitar in ts while everyone listened in Logging on ts where I heard someone shout "God I wish someone would just eat the crust off my hairy anus"

Application: Name:Ser Aymer Fournier Race:human Reason for joining:I am the Unterfuhrer (OOC)I am the Unterfuhrer Skype:Already got it Do you use TS?:Dude I'm the one that makes ts live

Ser Aymer would stride from the dark embowelment of his chamber, promptly descending the stairs. His steward would prompt him with the writ as he made his way into the dining room, the flaxen haired aging noble groaning as he reads the rather gesturable document, eclectic frowns coming up and fading away as he reads each sentence. "Avarice, parsimonious tendencies and arrogance takes hold of zis entire family. To.. remove one's family member by blood to ze remarks he makes in court, or ze dealings he makes wiz inconspicuous outsiders. Family is made from ze strewn seeds zat one man has planted, and zese seeds should non wither and die. It should be discipline to a family member, non a pariah from his own family. Zat is how one should punish ze foolish." He'd cough, the stoical administrator at his side simply scrutinizing his features. Aymer respitely eyes the document once more, settling it down upon the embellished table, looking over to the languid steward. "Well, send for my horse. I will be riding out, monsieur Haverford."

Diversity An argument. A verbal representation of a disagreement, coming from our ancestors in which it was named “Argumentum,” The human race and all subordinate races share this same mind-held disagreement. Based on studies pertaining to the human body and its psychology by myself and my assistants, it would go to show that GOD has attributed to many of his children’s mindsets, through what I have decided to name “Hive Mind,” and “Independent Thinking.” These two would seem to work in various ways, though all end up with similar results. Why does GOD give us diversity? Why do we choose our own decisions, our placement to our own actions, and to face the consequences ourselves? Why do we have different mental states, not all simply to serve as a body given to us simply to pray? Through these same studies done in the Archdiocese of Drusco, it would be evidential as to why. Hive mind, as I’ve decided to name it prior, is the act of three or more individuals receiving the same mental ability as their peers, such as a riot, or a crowd of musique spectators. The evidence found to this was by using two individuals, and sending them to a third. One would tell a rather bland or unsatisfying joke, and the other would laugh rather hysterically. These two figures would laugh in unison, whereas the third would be taken aback by such an unordinary joke. Due to the human mind’s ability to wish to remain unembarrassed, it would show that seventy-seven percent of the tested individuals, laughed along with the rest. Hive mind, what we all seem to face in the worship of our lord. Equality, a mind shared by the servants of god in their same home. But, coming to individual thinking, why are we given our own decisions, our own paths. Why are figures such as the great Guy de Bar, or his Holiness Tobias given this stake above the rest, the power that comes with such responsibility. Not everyone may handle such responsibility, so how are they? Why are we not all the same? All individual persons are linked to GOD, to pray and reach salvation. We are all the servants of the lord. A man’s actions are subjectively how they are raised, to be a mirror of their parent’s teachings. The human mind may work alone, and in an effective or detrimental state. These mind-sets may help or hinder the rest of the populace, deciding on how the races of the world may move forward. If every man and woman thought the same, no new ideas would be created, no new musique, no new arts or crafts, just the plain where the world would remain in the state of savagery that we now seek to destroy. In conclusion, GOD has given the denizens of the world a gift, the gift to think indifferently, or biased, to work together or tear apart as many have. Signed, His Excellency Peredono of Valenza, Archbishop of Drusco, Prince of the One True Church, and Vice Chancellor of the Sacred College of the Synod.

Ser Aymer hears of yet a third reverberant death, before he'd finally throw aside the document given to him by the courier, scowling farcely as wroth turns to a conflagration in his glower. "Blood for Ashford, Blood for d'Amaury."

Aymer hears of this missive via courier's escapading throughout the lands of Oren, before he'd simply bob his head, somber yet conscientious in his demeanor. "Blood for Ashford."

"And so he falls." The knight would imply sullenly, his orbs cast heavily onto the pyre as he cleans his bastard blade, "And ze last zing he showed to me was mercy, but non ze commoner. Blood for Ashford. Blood for my kin. Blood for ze greater good."

Aymer looks down as he is brought out of the palace, being the last man he spoke to prior, he once again let a single tear escape his eye. "Blood for Ashford."

Clegg_

Ser Aymer peels away from the gathered persons bidding their dearest friend adieu, his cane ushering him along. He'd look up to the scarred skyline, reminiscing the time he and Richard spent in his quarters, where he were at his worst. The ambiguous figure took hold of his family sword, and he laid his trust onto the ashford. He now stood at the bridge of Peremont, his glower driven deeply into the sullen confines below. Aymer spoke with a raspy voice to himself, his words that of extol. He concluded, now castigating himself, his heart bleeding for the dying Ashford, and hobbling along, driven forth by his cane. "Au revoir, my closest friend."