Search the Community

A DRUSCAN DEATH TALE Lupus ferox sicut sol ✺ The Lord of Drusco was trained and had prepared for the battle, but the burden of leadership had proven overwhelming. In his darkest moments, he sought solace through the wine that filled his cup. The Savoyard drowned himself in the familiar taste hoping that he would rid himself of his fear and trepidation. For a maudlin time, his thoughts wandered back to a summer spent beneath the trees and the joyful banter that once echoed throughout his empty halls. However, those days had faded away and now his gaze fixed onto the battlements and the enemy that approached from the south. Amidst the cacophony of clashing swords, firing of arrows, and booming sounds of siege weaponry. Edmond stood alone, his armor, once a beautiful set, had bore the marks of previous battles, and his sword stained with the blood of numerous foes. In the heat of the defence of his home, he found himself locked in an intense gaze with the King of the Dwarves. Time had seemed to stretch, the chaotic symphony of battle faded into the background as their weapons drew closer. The two had found an unspoken understanding that only one would emerge victorious from this dance of blades. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke, and the ground beneath their feet was uneven with the remnants of fallen comrades. The duel unfolded amidst the swirl of battle, Sigrun Stonehammer's carbarum blade clashed against the Savoyard’s blade and heavy blows from the Dwarven King had caused the lord’s blade to shatter in his hand. Edmond found himself defenseless and attempted to retreat, stumbling over the corpse of his dead guards, the ground beneath him slick with blood and mud. In an instinctive moment, he seized a nearby shield that adorned the sun of Ashford and huddled beneath it. Each strike splintered the shield piece by piece, the relentless assault tarnishing the emblem of Ashford. After enduring countless blows, the shield was left in tatters, split in two under the unrelenting force of the Dwarven King. With the shield shattered, the Savoyard gazed up at Sigrun, his final moments witnessed as the axe cleaved through the air, severing the Margrave's head in two. As Drusco's defences crumbled, the once beautiful castle fell into enemy hands. The legacy of Lord Edmond, tarnished by his descent into alcohol-fuelled despair, met its tragic ends on the battlefield. The Siege of Drusco became a somber chapter in the annals of Aevos, a cautionary tale of the perils of both Veletz and the Covenant conflict. A LETTER TO RICHOLD OF ROUEN,

Announcement of Death ________________________________ ________________________________ It is with great sorrow that we within House de Leuven hereby announce the unfortunate death of Lady Priscilla Amelia de Leuven. During the later hours of the night the servants had discovered the fallen Ashford deceased in her bed, having passed away during slumber. We request a period of mourning and respect as we cope and endure with this devastating loss, thank you. House de Leuven _________________________________________________ The last flicker of life swelled in her mind, rapidly changing its course as the woman laid in her bed. It was dimmed within her room, the gentle sway of her oil lamp enhancing the dusty four corners held at the edge of her wall. Such a bitterly slow decay, she thought. The irking chirps of crickets kept her at bay as she hacked away into a nearby basin, clotted with specks of blood. Sleep, she desired sleep, yet it struggled to come. In and out in her haze did the images come, consuming her in this miserable state. Bada-dum, bada-dum, bada-dum-............ First it was the dinner party where the four corners of her room expanded outward into a grandiose hall of elaborate wallpaper, every square holding onto a small painted insignia of that Ashford household. From afar she saw her two sisters frolic and spin, dressed in their finest silks as the younger girls were gawked at by nannies. They had always seemed to stress their caregivers, she called. Evanna with her pickiness, Margarita with her chaos, and she with her crudeness. A chuff then escaped her as soon two figures came into sight: one with locks of aureate and the other a silky brown. Her parents, her parents, her parents. Ba-Bada-dum, bada-dum, B-Bada-dum-.... The second vision came more harshly as the reality around her sputtered, bouncing as if against the waves of pounding drums. She was in San Luciano, rays shining down upon her as vicious roars of thrill filled her ears. Down below a game of strength within the sandy pits of the coliseum occurred, blade against blade. However, it was not the admired sport that caught her gaze, but the viridescent eyes from afar. She could not recall her name, the name of her first love. The sharp contours of their features, perfection of the composure and laid hands, and length of her raven curls. Her name, she could not remember her name. Only the taste of strawberry upon her lips. B-Ba-Bada-dum, Ba-Bada-dum, B-Ba-Bada-dum-.... She did not like this vision, it was gruesome, full of regret. Eighty-eight. Those two digits, she dreaded them. It began with an Alstion, and it ended with one too. Her dagger, that wretched but godsent gift. Who was the last? She could not recall, only the first. She was thirteen and he was four. His neck had been sliced so effortlessly; his cries so feeble while his mother's came out akin to a roar. He could have had a family like her, he could have been a husband or even a brother. His own Uncle had ordered his death, to be carried out so that a wretched relative might be heir instead of him. To be heir of a titleless aristocrat. How many did she have to slaughter so her sisters could live peacefully? B-B-Bada-dum, B-B-Babada-dum......... Lastly, she saw her family, her most cherished thing in life. She saw her best-friend and love Daniel, who held her up as she sought to support them. He was her anchor, she loved him greatly. She saw herself in her beloved eldest Caterina, a woman of grand composure and wit. She saw her husband in Lucrezia, determined yet loving. Cosimo, a boy and his crossbow, akin to she and her dagger. Ipera, that downfallen girl. She dreaded her behavior, how she picked up the impulsiveness of Margarita. Yet, just as quickly she saw a brief spark of memory; cradling her youngest babe in swaddled cloth as she murmured the name, “Ipera, Ipera-... Ipera, my sweet sun.” Oh, how her heart ached. Emelie, Manon, Ophelie. They were not her daughters, but she wished they were. Undeserving of the cruelty they faced much akin to herself. They would be well, she thought, they would be well. She could not recall the last thought as she idled there, chest heaving more slowly as the feeling of her fingers faded up to the neck gradually. GOD, please save me, she thought. She pleaded and begged, but in the end-... The sun had lowered, and she was faced with darkness. B-B-B-Bada-dum... Bada-...b...b...b...b-.. _______________________________________________________________ To House Leuven: _______________________________________________________

TAVERNKEEP NEEDED Tavernkeep needed at the City of Peremont - active, engaged and competent. The tavern is nestled in the middle of the burgeoning city, often visited by the men of the Brotherhood of the Golden Crozier that inhabit the region and the other inhabitants. Surrounded by verdant wildlife and rolling plains, the city attracts more and more business with every passing day. For any prospective buyers, the tavern is priced at 600 minas, and any who desire to purchase it should speak to Denis de Bar (stigwig). To those who are simply interested in working as a tavernkeep; a wage can be arranged with the Count.

[Skin by Tahmas] Gaspard Ashford de Aryn Basic Information Gaspard de Aryn is a 39 year-old, human male, of Heartland/Savoyard breeding He currently remains alive, living within his Brother's barony in the county of Drusco Gaspard's ambitions are of a political nature: seeking a position from which to enact reform upon the Empire of Oren, to ensure stability for Virdain Description Body The well-built Savoyard stands at a reasonable 5 foot 11 inches, weighing 211Lbs. He lives by a strict fitness code, fueld by the warrior lifestyle he leads. When not fighting on the field of battle, in Drusco's levies, Gaspard trains tirelessly to attain the strength required on the frontline of war. Gaspard's eyes are that of a vivid amber, almond in shape. His broad nose runs parallel to his firm jawline, which in turn ends at his chiseled, jutting chin. His hair is little to none, due to the alopecia inherited in his line. Though the man's moustache makes up for this, in his own opinion: grown prominently above his upper lip, as to drape over the majority of his mouth. The Savoyard's skin is not that of which would be expected from the vineyard loving people he calls kin: living in the Barony of Virdain (A northern location, in terms of the Duchy of Savoy) has left his skin pale, and white, much to his displeasure. On top of this, his skin finds itself litered with scars, from previous battles; prominent scar being a large slash, running the whole width of his back, faded and old, from his time serving during the Dukes War. Personality Gaspard is a zealous man: with thoughts and beliefs that to many would be considered backward and unprogressive. A hatred of dwarves, and races outside of that of humans and elves lingers on the Savoyard like a strong stench. Even when approached with the topic of elvenkind, Gaspard (though in a lesser form) harbours hate. The man makes great lengths to disguise these feelings in a diplomatic nature, however, like all, there is only so much the balded de Aryn can take. Though willing to rush into battle at the drop of an order, Gaspard is a cautious individual when in command. Only willing to take the risk of confrontation when fully confident in his ability to succseed. The Savoyard is said to be lacking when it comes to a sense of humour: taking just that bit longer to catch onto the jokes of his peers, and produce an all to fake burst of laughter. Gaspard is a man, who in the light of mockery, finds no comic hilarity: only displaying annoyance and frustration. Life Style Alignment: Lawful Neutral - Gaspard, though in pursuit of power, holds no selfish ambitions beyond that of maintaining order in the realm. His firm adherence to the law of Oren, despite personal objections to particular edicts, is firm. In the face of his own personal prejudices, Gaspard believes firmly in neutrality: as an example, while his hatred of elves may entice Gaspard to seek a reason to have one imprisoned, if none are present, the matter would be dropped. Religion: The Church of Canon Alliances: House Ashford, The Holy see, Savoy Class: Nobleman Title: Grand Inquisitor of the Aureate Isthmus Weaponry Fighting styles: Hand-to-Hand, fencing/dueling, swordsmanship Trained weapons: Warhammer, Broad-Sword, Rapier, Longbow Favored weapon: de Aryn crested warhammer Lineage Parents: Alexandair de Aryn, Georgia Ethellion Siblings: Thomas, Alana, Bastian, Kalilah de Aryn Children: Vivienne de Aryn, Olyvar de Aryn, Jacques de Aryn History (To come)

THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE GOLDEN CROZIER Brothers of the Crozier For we are the sword of Lucien; the shield of Lucien; the raised spears that catch the rising sun. We are the storm of swords, the song of steel: the song that sweeps across the strongholds of devout and faith-less, believer and heathen, paragon and sinner. The axe that splinters shield, the hammer that cracks skull, the blade that causes many a mother to weep her bitter tears. We are those that hold his crozier, and we will hold the instrument that supports his legacy. PURPOSE To those men of the Lord, devout and fearful of his wrath, there exists only one purpose - devotion in a service befitting of Him. The Brotherhood of the Golden Crozier, made up of men who have pledged their lives to the service of that order, exist to help purge humanity, all the races, of the shared degeneracy that recent ages have induced into it through vile, corrupt, degenerate means. A purifying force, so named due to its the symbol of the Saint Lucien and his belief in conservative, traditional family values so designed to restore order to the realm of Man. Soldiers, armigers, warriors; healers, medics, physicians; merchants, tradesmen, artisans; a dozen paths of life amalgamated into a single group worthy of such a legacy and the reconstruction of a great brotherhood. Those who preserve ancient and holy relics in the Brotherhood’s custody and those who travel out in search of more. Men who hunt monsters and cleanse such dangers from the roads of the entire continent, whether they be beasts in unnatural form, or brigands who prey on the innocent and poor. What is a realm without law and order; justice and arbitration? Defenders of the meek, poor and innocent. Guardians of the just and faithful. Located within the hinterlands of Savoy faithful and loyal men from all corners of the world gather in pledged service, their aims clear and definite; restoration to better times. The Brotherhood is not one simply of men, though, nor only Man. Open and accepted are elves, provided they be devout, and any others who desire to serve under such a blessed banner. APPLYING TO THE BROTHERHOOD In order to join the Brotherhood of the Golden Crozier, located within the lands of Savoy at Drusco, ((x170, z-2020)), one must either visit those lands, a cart is present outside Felsen, or submit an application to the Grandmaster via bird. These shall be registered as swiftly as possible, providing that the applicant is a male of fighting age. APPLICATION: OOC: Skype name: Username: IC: Name: Reasons for applying: Do you agree to PK if RP is done appropriately and well?: RANKS Discipline shall make or break these men, the cruel crack of leather on flesh; whip on skin, shall forge a force worthy of that furnace which is war. Discipline shall temper any band of soldiers for blessed battle. Every single man who serves in the Brotherhood is expected to obey the commands of a superior without fault or question - obedience shall be met with reward, and disobedience with punishment. (SENIOR COMMAND) GRANDMASTER The Grandmaster holds complete and total control of the Brotherhood; all those who serve within it are subservient to his command and that of God. His word is final and it is expected that all soldiers shall follow him, whether it be into peace or battle. The current Grandmaster is Denis de Bar, the first of that name. TRIBUNE The most senior of officers beneath the Grandmaster in the Brotherhood, elevated from the most competent of prefects, the Tribunes are experienced battle commanders who have shown their skill in combat, administration and leadership - equipped and empowered with the ability to command large chunks of men and serve as a competent aide to the Grandmaster. (LOW COMMAND) PREFECT Prefects are officers entrusted with the command of smaller units; oft in reconnaissance missions. Either experienced soldiers or red-blooded nobles, they have proved their worth to hold such a position and dispense their judgement on those that follow their words. DECURION Decurions are those officers entrusted with the whip, with disciplining rowdy soldiers and ensuring that even in the thick of a conflict the battle-line is held, and it is held well. Respected rather than feared, they hand out deserved punishments, and more often ensure that no punishment is required at all. (ENLISTED) All of the Enlisted are to be referred to with ‘Brother’ for formality. MAN-AT-ARMS Man-At-Arms are the backbone of the Brotherhood, soldiers who have proved their grit and demonstrated their mettle through years of service to the group; dedicated and experienced men who can be relied upon to maintain a respectable example for those unblooded who join the Brotherhood. FOOTMAN Brothers are those unblooded who have passed through their training and trials, going on to serve as full armigers of the group, respected as equals by all and as the men who make up by far the largest number of soldiers. UNBLOODED The unblooded are green-soldiers who are fresh to the Brotherhood; men who have not yet engaged in any fight or been through training. Always treated as newcomers, they are expected to look to officers for an example of competent behaviour while meshing with the current soldiers. (HONOUR RANKS) ENSIGN To be named as the Ensign, the man who is entrusted with the responsibility of holding the banner above the seething masses as a guiding light, is a great honour. If the Ensign were to fall in battle, the whole Brotherhood would feel his loss dearly; during the constant ebb and tide of battle he must lift his burden high above the men’s shoulders so that it can become a focal point for rallying. CHAPLAIN The chaplains are men schooled in holy teaching and thought, their hearts lit aflame by passion for His service. Men who recite litanies and chants, whether it be in the mess hall or the field of battle, their passion is able to beat the spirits of all their comrades into a similar fury. CHAMPION The Champion of the Golden Crozier, the hardiest warrior in the Brotherhood, is a title awarded to those who demonstrate the greatest competency within the entire group at martial work. Whether earned through conflict at war or on the tourney field, the title is constantly up for contest - an honour levied only upon the greatest of brothers.

Frederiqe de Bar Age Thirty-seven Height 5’7 Appearance Frederique wears a tiresome expression across her face. Her features are narrow, and tight. They consist of sharp edges, and casts off a curt sight. Frederique wears prominent bags beneath her eyes, most likely due to the lack of sleep she receives. She has long, black unattended hair, which is mostly pinned back with a golden clip. Her dark shimmering eyes are hidden behind some of her black locks, which she shares with the whole de Bar family. Personality The noblewoman keeps a sullen gaze drifting over her environment, and prefers to observe rather than speaking. A blunt, and dull tone is mixed in her voice, which signs the little interest she usually presents to you. Like her two brothers, Frederique is more calculating in any situation, and gives off a cold impression. Family Parents: Richard de Bar, Ipera Carrion Siblings: Adrian de Bar, Guy de Bar Spouse: Otto Rovin (deceased) Children: Klara de Bar, Baldwin de Bar Nieces: Annabelle de Bar, Lucienne de Sola née de Bar Nephews: Carden de Bar, Denis de Bar, Adelric de Bar, Sergius de Bar, Joachim de Bar, Edmond de Bar (deceased) Distant Family: Emelie de Bar née de Sola (sister-in-law)