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  1. EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present NOD PEPEL, ASERE PODNIMAT’SYA From Ashes, We Rise — THE FALL OF THE PHOENIX - The Funeral of Nataliya Mariya Amador, Baroness of Mondstadt - Issued on the 9th day of Tov ag Yermey in the 486th Year of Exalted Sigismund. VA EDLERVIK, Let it be known that Her Ladyship, Nataliya Mariya Amador, The Phoenix of Amador, Baroness of Mondstadt and Kastellan of Immigration of Haeseni-Ruska, has this day passed on to the Seven Skies. She died of natural causes following complications after her most recent pregnancy and childbirth. The child, though small, seems likely to survive the tragedy and shall be named Theodosya as the late Baroness wished, and be granted the second name Nataliya after the Baroness. As is customary for the House of Amador, the House will enter a state of mourning until such time as her Funeral is concluded. Her Funeral will take place on Jula ag Piov, in the 487th Year of Exalted Sigismund at the Evarardian Basilica in the City of Valdev. We welcome all who wish to pay their final respects to our Late Bossiras. Her Coffin with be sanctified by a Priest of the Church, before being buried in the Ground of the Basilica, beneath the same tree as her recently fallen kin, Ser Karl Ruslan Amador. The Impact of the late Bossiras to the House of Amador can not be understated. Thanks to the efforts of herself, her mother, Olessya Amador, and her faithful sister Liridona Amador, the House of Amador stands today among the most spectacular families in the Dual Kongzem. She battled during the end-times of Almaris against the Mori’quesse;, she served the Dual Kongzem faithfully and loyally as Kastellan of Immigration. She leaves behind her Husband, Four Sons and Two Daughters, her Sisters, Mother, Father and all the rest of her surviving kinsmen. We Honour the Bossiras that reignited the flame of the House and returned the House to the Nobility within the Dual Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska. Let it also be known, as per the wishes of the Late Bossiras, that Professor Albus Amador, the Chronologist of the House of Amador and Son of Radmir Amador, shall act as Regent, until the eldest son of the Bossiras, Henrik Edvard Amador, now known as Henrik III, comes of age. We request time to Mourn the loss of so much in such a short blink of time. FROM ASHES, WE RISE. IV JOVEO MAAN, Professor, Albus Amador, Regent & Chronologist of the House of Amador
  2. HOUSE DE LYONS “Do Not Provoke the Lions” The House de Lyons is a knightly family of Heartlanders, initially hailing from the Province of Endaen, upon the continent of Aeldin. Although previously rendered an obscure name following its exodus from the distant continent, the bloodline has since reemerged in the realms of men, aspiring to uphold honour and chivalry above all else. ~HISTORY~ Foundation ~ 15th Century By Louis Edmund de Lyons; Circa. 1568. At the onset of the Imperial Age and the establishment of the Horosid Dynasty, the northern territory of Aeldin was steadily brought into compliance by the rapid expansion of the heartland armies. Among those subjugated were the native Harrenite clans of the region of Endaen, brigandish folk thought by outsiders to be little more than uncivilised rogues. The Empire reluctantly spared the bulk of these clans from the sword, on the condition they swore oaths of fealty and pledged their martial strength to aid in future conquests. Yet, as occupational forces withdrew in wake of establishing a provincial government, the stringent control of hardened generals gave way to weak-minded bureaucrats. Rebuffing the counsel of interventionist advisors for a laissez-faire approach, the new Governor of Endaen permitted the Harrenites to continue practising their barbaric way of life, believing it would facilitate long-term amicable relations. So long as the Imperial tithe was paid, their inclination for plundering the border territories would be tolerated. Clan Scrymgeour stood as one of the oldest Harrenite bloodlines of Endaen and were among the most powerful too. Adept skirmishers who proved lethal in lightning warfare, Imperial censuses suggest that from the territories they controlled the Clan could muster nearly three thousand riders. Donagh Scrymgeour, their petty lord, was swift to take advantage of the Governor’s incompetence, ordering his men to ransack merchant caravans and isolated hamlets, so that their coffers might overflow by winter. But ever an avaricious opportunist, Donagh foolishly perceived the decadence of the Empire’s nobility as total ignorance, attacking sanctioned state convoys and withholding tributes to the crown. Furthermore, when the provincial government sought to treat with Clan Scrymgeour and procure a diplomatic solution, the Harrenites openly mocked and dismissed the olive branch as a farce. At last, acknowledging that an example had to be made of such blatant defiance, the Governor of Endaen declared Clan Scrymgeour traitors and in open rebellion. The aftermath of a Harrenite raid; Unknown Date. With an entire province taking up arms against his Clan, Donagh surmised that survival depended on defeating the Imperials in the field before they could muster a substantial force, thereby reopening negotiations in his favour. The Scrymgeours took to the lowlands, harrying rural populations and setting ambushes along the main roads to the provincial capital of Langford, thereby depriving the army of able-bodied recruits and provoking a premature advance. In the following weeks, an Imperial regiment was hastily dispatched into the countryside to give battle to the Harrenite reivers, seeking to end their revolt. Leading the retribution force was a young knight-errant hailing from the Heartlands, Sir Lyonel de la Foret, who had previously distinguished himself in the eastern Imperial campaigns. A significant portion of Lyonel’s army were veterans of the long-winded war for Aeldin’s unification - five hundred heavy cavalry and just over a thousand men-at-arms. But just as Donagh had hoped, this force stood at barely half the size of his own host. The reivers beckoned Sir Lyonel into their country, rallying their combined might in sight of the Scrymgeours’ own ancestral seat. Donagh was confident in securing a decisive victory, his banners gathered in full force before the numerically inferior Imperial host. The three thousand Harrenite riders positioned themselves upon the foothills of the nearby river valley, staring down the Knight-Errant’s armoured front lines, who had adopted a defensive formation just beyond the shelter of a coniferous forest. Sir Lyonel understood the severity of his disadvantage and so took to establishing perimeter trenches with sharpened stakes upon his flanks. The thick surrounding foliage also served as cover, allowing the Knight-Errant to disguise his smaller host’s movements and seek refuge from the projectiles of the Harrenite light cavalry. He was well aware that in order for Donagh to have any chance of truly vanquishing him, the rebel lord would have to meet him directly in a contest of arms. All that remained was to wait, for whilst Clan Scrymgeour were ferocious warriors they lacked discipline and were easily roused into a frenzy. Patience would win the day - the Empire could wait. Sir Lyonel engaging Donagh Scrymgeour and his bodyguard; Circa. 1490. War horns sounded at the break of the following day as Sir Lyonel’s sentries spotted movement along the ridge. Just as the Knight-Errant had anticipated, bloodlust and a yearning for battle had enticed the Scrymgeours to make the first move, a third of their army advancing. The well-formed Imperial host stepped just beyond the treeline to face the Harrenite vanguard, their tower shields and pikes aloft as the many cycles of javelins and arrows were absorbed by the front line. Retaliating, Sir Lyonel’s archers released volleys unto the hill slopes, catching the lightly armed riders in a hail of death. Scores of reivers fell from their horses, wailing and dying as their lord looked on in apprehension. With his host decimated and morale wavering, the last strand of Donagh’s caution snapped. Believing his weight in numbers would see him prevail, the Harrenite lord ordered forth the entirety of his host, over two thousand mounted warriors galloping forth to strike the Knight-Errant’s lines with all their might. The Imperial centre buckled, but maintained its coordination, their polearms holding back the full brunt of the enemy charge, littering the ground with mounds of corpses. Yet despite their losses, the Scrymgeours were fully committed to the battle, determined to break their adversaries no matter the cost. Alas, Sir Lyonel made the final move, his own heavy cavalry charging forth from the reserves. Divided into two formations, their lances emerged from the tree line and smashed the flanks of the Harrenites. Bogged down by the broken ground and compacted like a shoal of sardines, the lightly armed reivers had no room nor time to reform their lines, falling victim to the brutal doctrine of Imperial shock warfare. A thick melee erupted, crushing those unfortunate enough to have been caught in its epicentre. Only a few hundred clansmen were so lucky to escape the whirlpool of terror. Donagh was not amongst them. Confronted by Sir Lyonel himself, the lord of Clan Scrymgeour met his end upon a cold steel edge, the Knight-Errant’s longsword cleaving the reiver’s head clean from his shoulders. Leaderless and utterly defeated, the Harrenites could do nothing more than limp back to their castle, from which Donagh’s household had witnessed his downfall. In the hours that followed, Sir Lyonel’s host pressed onwards to surround the now sparsely defended fortress, over which a flag of parley was raised. The rebellion was at last over. For his prowess in battle and efforts in restoring stability to the province, Sir Lyonel was awarded the former holdings of Clan Scrymgeour, which in due time the populace would dub Lyonesse, in his honour. What remained of the local Harrenites either faded in obscurity or bent the knee to their new liege lord. In time, tales of a knight with the strength of a lion thrice over spread throughout Endaen; a reputation that prompted Lyonel to take the beasts as his personal sigil. A legacy that, alongside his name, would be passed down for generations to come. A Lyonen knight, patrolling the bogland of Endaen; Circa. 1563. A Reflection ~ 20th Century By Arthur Hughes de Lyons; Circa. 1906. In exploring my family history, I have come to realise regrettably that vast swathes of our records remain either incomplete or have vanished entirely. For example, precisely when we departed from the continent of Aeldin remains a matter of debate, and there are no details as to how we found passage to this side of the known world. My hope is that in time, by uncovering additional records, or through the voluntary aid of other Aeldinic bloodlines, I may yet be able to shed more light on those time-lost generations. Regarding my own thoughts on what I have managed to piece together, though it is somewhat sparse on specific details, my ancestor Louis seems to have written a believable account of my family’s foundation and progenitor. It is corroborated by similar records from that period, indicating that a campaign of expansion was indeed being prosecuted by Imperial forces, though to what lengths I cannot be certain. Yet, returning to the topic of our exodus, I will acknowledge that our time as landed lords within the province of Endaen most likely ended in a drawn-out period of violence. Ironically, much like the Scrymgeours before us, House de Lyons challenged the imperial bureaucracy's effectiveness and dared to question the provincial government's fitness. Our honour, desire for autonomy and devotion to chivalry sowed doubts regarding our usefulness to the Empire; a corrupt establishment having little need for those unwilling to be pawns. From my personal experience of the known world, I realise that humanity has on many an occasion fallen victim to vain pride and ambition, with wicked men carving out vast realms at the expense of all moral decency. There will come a time that I am no longer able to guide my household and must leave our family legacy in the hands of the next generation. But it is my earnest hope that those who take up that mantle of responsibility remain true to the chivalrous virtues and knightly valour of our forefathers. The House de Lyons must never again bear steel in the name of an Empire, for the very concept has proven anathema to integrity and self-determination. We must be better and recognise that mankind may yet prosper without being coerced into submission beneath the shadow of a singular oppressive banner. ~CUSTOMS~ The Legacy of Lyonesse By Arthur Hughes de Lyons; Circa. 1906. The House de Lyons has traditionally served as a knightly family, aspiring to maintain chivalrous virtues and honour above all else. Both men and women of our bloodline are expected to achieve, if not strive towards, Knighthood or Damehood so as to ensure our martial origins are not lost to the ages. We have not always succeeded in this endeavour, for many years having faded into obscurity amidst the intrigues of the realm. But alas, titles alone are not a measure of one’s virtue, for it is a purity of the heart that determines whether one is truly worthy. The day a child of Lyonesse has shown that they can bear steel with restraint, they are gifted a weapon of their own. Furthermore, a knight is characterised not only by their strength at arms but also riding into battle on horseback. For when a child of our bloodline is able enough to walk, they may yet be capable of riding and caring for a steed of their own. Throughout the generations, this has instilled a sense of duty and teaches the youth that life must never be taken for granted. All must be capable of doing their part, should they seek to earn anything, respect in particular. With the passage of time, we have also taken to adopting new traditions. My lady wife, Juliana Rosemary of the House of Vernhart, showed me that one may yet wield a pen with as much grace as a sword. To accommodate this worldview, my own children shall receive falcons for the expressed purpose of bearing missives, as part of their tutoring in performing civil matters. With this, I hope they may better serve the realm from a domestic perspective when they come of age. Yet, perhaps our most significant custom is the words of our family: “Do Not Provoke the Lions.” They serve as a warning to those who might seek to take advantage of our hospitality and defile the virtues we hold so dear. There have been many occasions in which a knight of the House de Lyons has taken up steel in defence of our family’s honour, willing to engage in single combat if it means settling a dispute. Trial by such means is a revered custom, for ultimately it is GOD who favours the victor, and so our ultimate fate lies in his blessed hands.
  3. THE LAST GOODBYE FINDING RESOLVE AND RESOLUTION This is written from the perspective of someone broken by emotion and escaping into their own mind to find solace in face of the reality of the world. It might be triggering to some audiences and elicit emotion in those who have gone through a similar set of experiences. As someone who has gone through plenty in my life, I hope to depict a tale of overcoming adversity rather than being imprisoned by it. Nonetheless, this is a fair warning to those that would rather not be reminded of such times. The City of Crows was a place usually filled with liveliness. But inside a small estate set by the wayside of the Karosgrad Colosseum emanated an unusual stillness. From the very moment one approached the door a lingering sense of sadness was felt. There was only pain now. Where the spacious home had once been filled with laughter, joy and active children, there was only this silence, this omnipresent feeling of death. Were it not for the whipping of family banners from the wind and the rattling of the tugging lantern chains, one might think it abandoned. In truth, it was far from so instead those inside were no longer fully grounded on this earth. But for now, the living room only held one figure whose gaze did not wander; that gaze was settled, settled forwards and staring off somewhere distant. Beneath those lost eyes, the elderly man’s beard had grown dishevelled from a lack of care and his mopish hair, which clung to his cheek and even laid strands across his gaze. The Patriarch of House Colborn was listless and all strength had long since left him, his greyed hues which so often held warmth were empty, filled only with a void of vitality, lacking in life and any sense of emotion else than hopelessness. Was this oblivion? To be cursed with a rarely seen long-lived star who others envied, only to watch those beloved part from this world, to be burdened with pain, again and again, assaulted by quandary after quandary. Was this life? To bring about and birth endless treasures only for them to be taken before one has a chance to appreciate them in their fullest value. To experience things that stab wounds to one very soul that not even prayer can heal, that cannot be mended by magic. Was this fate? To work until one's bones were brittle and one's hand could barely rise properly, only to be punished and put in one's place, to be reminded of the woes of the world and to be pained by twisted reality. A burst of hoarse croaking laughter escaped the elderly man’s throat as if a thousand grains of sand sliding against each other, his throat more parched than a man wandering the desert, as if water couldn’t sate him anymore. With each set of sounds, his throat twisted in pain, eventually leading to a series of coughs, and only a few more pained croaks as if he had swallowed a fly followed. There was a ringing in his ear which had yet to disappear since he had heard the news, that dreadful set of news. Whenever he tried to remember it was like an onset of fog clung to his very mind. What have I forgotten? What was it I’m trying to remember? His mind could not sustain this line of inquiry for long before the fog overwhelmed him again, eliciting another series of wind whistling through his throat, barely able to be called a chuckle, more if anything as if the soul was attempting to leave his body. In his blurry vision which grew darker with each coming moment he could see two figures, two adult men who spoke in the room before him, he could almost hear their voices now. Yes, almost. He was trying his best to make out those voices. The blonde-haired man and his opposite who wore a well-trimmed dark mane walked about the room, two opposites. Why can’t I remember their names? In the chair sitting across from where the disheveled man had sunk into the sofa was a figure he was far too familiar with, the third one present. It was from this man a much deeper and stern voice carried forth. “How long will you do this to yourself?” Adrian’s eyes were still staring in the direction of the two younger images who were silently laughing in the distance as if still alive, a distant memory of better days. The only thought lingering in his mind was why couldn’t he hear them. Breaking his line of thought was the sound of someone clicking their tongue, far too familiar. It caught his attention as it continued in its deeper tone “How long Adrian?” With his name being called he caught himself and as if echoing the thoughts of the person sitting across from him he asked himself. How long has it been? With each moment after the miasma which covered up his thoughts slowly loosened, each eliciting a thought. How long have I been sitting here? Before he could ask himself the next question he heard again that voice, the voice of his father. “Would you rather trick yourself until you are your own prisoner, guard and executioner? And what for? To live out a fantasy of what once was, of what cannot be any longer even if you so dreadfully wish it to?” gruffed the voice, one strained from many years of pipesmoking. He could almost smell the tobacco waft off of his father’s breath, strong and overwhelming. “Will you not return to them?” came the next sentence which echoed now through the elder’s mind. With what had clung across his mind and left it clueless slowly clearing, so did the vision around him, the brightly lit room full of warmth, with its two presences slowly breaking and giving way to an empty home, dark and empty. The fireplace held not even embers and brought no warmth to the cold which filled up the place. “Return to them? Who will I return to? What do I have left to do?” He asked himself while looking to the window which reflected in it a gaunt and harrowing face, his boney cheeks most prominent. His hands which had lay slack slowly making for it, twig-like fingers lanky and absent of warmth, clinging as best they could to a feverishly sweaty forehead. Next to him on the sofa sat Anabel with a tray that held a set of steaming soup bowls, her hands scarred with half-bandaged cuts from her labor. “Find your resolve my son. . . find it as you once did in your youth and bring about the change you want to see in this world. I know you are capable of it.” So came the last words before the elder returned fully to reality as he was jolted by a warm hand, which reached out and caressed his sunken cheek. He barely managed the words through parched lips. It came out in rasps. “My child. . . how long have I…?” With the fog gone now, he knew he’d been through a cyclical process - this wasn’t the first, more so the third or fourth and Anabel had been by his side through it all - his far too kind granddaughter - they all were the treasures of his long-gone Gwyn and what she had wished for the most. That was what made all of this so difficult, with each of their deaths a part of her died with them, a part of her he could never reclaim nor hold to him tight. With each pressing thought, small beads slowly rolled down his cheeks, staining the warmth which covered his right side. Her expression was weary and helpless as she was already not good with people as it was. But even the face of his granddaughter which seldom held much but shyness was covered in worry. With a voice like the soft midsummer gale that carried forth words. “A few hours, I had to reheat the soup twice.” She intoned the last perhaps more in an attempt to hide her worry. But she clearly wasn’t willing to divulge exactly how long it had been. “S-So long?” “That long, yes,” she answered. With the warmth leaving his cheek, his watery eyes drifted down to an extended bowl, held by a caring hand. As his hands gripped around the shape and found long heat he sank in a spoon and ate a mouthful of soup. To his surprise, it tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten, not because of the flavor, but rather because of the hands who had toiled to make it. “Baldram helped, even he seemed to realize what state you’ve been in. . . since.” She caught herself and became numb, her body rigid. He would have let loose a boisterous chuckle in moments like these in the past yet he didn’t find it right to do so, nor was he able. With all he could, he finished off the bowl after an extended period of time sat in relative silence. Though Anabel still remained by his side through it all with fidgeting hands and stirring the cushions of the sofa ever so often. “I’ve sat still for far too long.” Came a voice that had recovered some from having been wet with a meal and his appetite filled. “They say a blade will lose its sharpness if not used, but a trained blade never goes fully dull, ha.” He let out a very short laugh as he monologued a little for the first time in days, weeks even. Putting the bowl down on the tray and extending a thank you to his granddaughter he pushed off of the sofa and came to a stand, making way for his study. While making his way up the stairs brief flashes of what had put him in his state came over him. He had held onto the lifeless body of his grandson Godric with a grip so strong it had split nails and broken a finger. The man’s leg had been as best as possible sown back to where it had been cut off so that he might be whole for a funeral. Thunk, thunk with each step upwards carried another memory. He had wailed his eyes out until red and baggy, his very body broken, wracked with emotion - as if gripping onto any last memory he could of his precious descendant - the heart of his heart and gem to his eye - priceless to him each branch that made up the Colborn tree. Thunk, thunk it continued. He had returned to a home abandoned by Godric’s daughter and his eldest son drinking away his woes, the little one closing himself off from the world. They each sought their own ways to escape from reality and to close themselves off from accepting what it all meant. He had sunk into the sofa then in a moment of helplessness, in a moment of delirium, stuck there as if piecing together a time before all of this had happened and bringing it into reality. He was a craftsman since birth and adventurer by choice, but no tool could fashion him a replacement, no vision or dream could replace what he had lost, and no amount of travel could find his grandson. Thunk, thunk he finally came to a stop at the top of the stairs in front of an oaken door. With a rattle of keys, he slid a key forward and cranked the path open to his study. “I will be the change I wish to see in this world, my fate my own, my journey one of my own making.” He muttered a promise he had made to himself many years before when he had told his father after the tragic passing of his mother, that he wished to return to their homeland, to Haense. His father having seemingly expected as much handed him a bag and retinue, to offer him safe passage. “Your journey will be difficult, there will be times when you wish you hadn’t taken this path and instead taken the easy way out. Will you still travel down this thorny road knowing so?” As if responding to that distant past he whispered beneath his breath, when coming upon his armour and sword. “Now and forever, for inaction is the death of Man and sloth is the downfall of his Kingdom. I will carry forward my virtues and bring upon them my beliefs, my hopes, my dreams.” With newfound resolve he donned himself fully as he had done in times past, slinking his blade into its scabbard - sister to Aeternus. In its shimmering reflection, he saw his sharp gaze which carried with it the strength of his youth before fully sheathed. The blade had been maintained with great discipline as he had been taught to, perhaps he had forgotten to maintain himself - but he wouldn’t forget how - he would forge of himself a new blade that would shine brightly. When he finally came down the stairs with the sounds of his heavy steps following him, strained by his aged body which might give out any moment, he saw at the door his Burgrave Rudolf Vyronov - ready and waiting. He was the diligent sort and a truly loyal retainer, as his ancestors were likewise, once and now again bannermen of his family and bonded brothers. “Have I kept you waiting?” He shot back with a grin that finally graced his features. “Not at all Bossir, I have readied your horse and stand ready for your orders.” The Vyronov stepped forward and hung a cloak around Adrian’s pauldrons, clicking them in place. “Let this old man ask you something Rudolf, not as your liege, but as an elder.” He stated while opening the door to the fresh wintry wind outside, blowing into the home, as well as showing the black steed stationed outside. Turning back for a moment he spoke the all too familiar words. “Your journey will be difficult, there will be times when you wish you hadn’t taken this path and instead taken the easy way out. Will you still travel down this thorny road knowing so?” The younger Vyronov looked at Adrian with no uncertainty and flashed a small cheeky smile that he so often hid behind his well-mannered exterior. “Where you go I follow, where you ride I travel and where you die I shall draw my last - now and forever.” Adrian couldn’t help himself from letting out a chuckle. “Well said. If I was cursed with a long life it seems I was likewise blessed with good company and companions, you never disappoint my Burgrave.” The Vyronov held in his head thoughts of the Elder that he might not realize, for to him, he was more than his liege. No, it was fair to say they were family and he had guided him like a father, and he wouldn’t forget it. Whipping up a storm the two set off for a Haeseni Monastery where the holiest man of all lay in a coma. When let into its hallow chambers the elder kneeled down at the head of the Pontiff’s bed, speaking softly, he recited passages from the Scroll of Auspice. “Bear witness to this prophecy of Sigismund, of the line of Joren, revealed in his last days as he gaze into the Face of God. Attend, brothers, and record my revelation: Behold, and the shadow of GOD is cast thrice upon the land, and thrice the light of instruction is obscured, and men tread the sea in its wake. Now Iblees is rising from the Void. And his chains are augmented, and they are become two wyrms, one beautiful and one terrible. The world is given over to them. The first wyrm is Vargengotz, and he goes forth to conquer and to rule. His six heads bear six crowns, which are the great kingdoms of the world, and he lets no evil be spoken of him. His body is black iron and his wings are dark smoke. The banners of the world are struck down before him, and the sky and mountains are his conquests. And Vargentgotz calls forth three deceivers in the guise of messengers, with wings of cold fire. They are called Justice, Glory, and Reward.” Scroll of Auspice 1:1-9 “The Evil Heart of Iblees rears its ugly head. In my moments of wavering strength, it has taken two of my descendants from me, brought to the Seven Skies before their time. When the deceiver of Justice came to us in the image of St. Karl. His words were not of Justice but in its stead wrath misguided. When those present were fooled I was not swayed, nor did I listen. Holding in my heart the Holy Scrolls to which I leave my trust in.” With more intonation he spoke yet again, lowering his head further towards the ground as if beginning to bow - bowing to God. “Then I found in my land a woman strung upon a cross, perverting the holy. Below she was written in my people's tongue an idiom dear to my heart that only daemons could whisper or know, but I did not waver. When the man of many faces appeared before us I knew it was the deceiver of Glory, and so I swallowed my pride, revealing to the Knights and Acre my failure, trusting in the sacred.” When his palms finally touched the ground he came to a full kowtow, his head touching the floor. “Thus came the last deceiver of Reward before us in the shape of Sigismund III purporting to represent the will of the Golden and the wealth of his legacy, but in him, I found none but Avarice, and so my faith was tested yet I did not waver.” Remaining as he was with tears straining at the corners of his eyes only held back by his own will he spoke in a shout for the first time since Godric’s death. “I will have NO DEBTS LEFT UNPAID during my watch, their evil will be returned threefold, each a mortal blow to their cohorts for the sins against my heart and soul!” “NO EVIL LEFT UNPUNISHED on my watch for my hand will strike that which corrupts the land and the heart of Man, a vessel to the holy, may I take up my sword to strike them down in His name!” “This will be MY LAST GOODBYE to Him, for the forces of Iblees shall be vanquished and their influence freed from the earth at last. A Crimson Inquisition to guide us on such a path towards salvation!” With his last words echoing within the bed chambers it seemed to stir something in the Pontiff as his fingers slowly curled, slowly waking, slowly returning to his flock. Only time would tell if the Elder would have his answer, but he was ready to wait, wait as long as need be. For no man or woman to feel what he had felt, helplessness ever-permeating, pieces of their heart ripped from them. “Holy is thy cross and holy is thy word, crimson is thy punishment.”
  4. THE SILVER STATE CALLS: ELMALI’THILL Issued from the Eternal Library The 11th of Snow’s Maiden, 54 SA “The continuity of our people must come before all factionalism and personal desire, no matter their cost and our pride. We must all strive for diligence in the face of ignorance.” - Malaurir Lucion Sullas BLESSED MALI’THILL, Kae mal’onnan lari’onnan’ehya, It has been the Imperative of Haelun’or, to have at its foundation, two things; Elmaehr’sae hiylun’ehya, and eltalonnii. Without Elmaehr’sae hiylun’ehya, our people - grovelling, would be no better than lessers who exist purely to satiate their idols, hedonism and baseness. Without the latter - eltalonnii, our society would default to the individual, deifying him and making his efforts and fruits solely his - himself being the only beneficiary. Why should he care for others when eltalonnii is of no importance? As such, from the very creation of Haelun’or, our blessed leaders had the foresight to center Haelun’ors foundations around these two institutions. Mali’thill who practice and maintain Elmaehr’sae hiylun’ehya - who strive to establish a fruitful Talonnii, do not benefit only themselves. They, in their toil and efforts, give to each Mali’thill, something to strive for. The betterment of Haelun’or cannot come from simply oem’thill. It must come from us all - as a collective - each Talonnii doing its share to benefit one another. As such, I call upon eltalonniian of yore to return to Haelun’or with your namesake, to be with the rest of your kin. To take the reins in moving Haelun’or forward - into a new era of progress. Re-ignite your forges, Re-assemble your laboratories, Re-host your symposiums - Haelun’or beckons. “Children of Larihei, separate yourselves from those lesser. Return to your people and reinstate your Nation among the leaders of the world. Revive in yourselves, a sense of superiority, for you are ‘thill. Disregard not, the gift you possess - your Silver Soul, but follow it’s call - flock home.” - Sohaer Braxus Ni’eya The Silver State calls: AHTALONIIAN ELERVATHAR AND VISAJ, that led elmali’thill from the cradle of Fi’halen to the great cihi of Lareh’thilln, and gifted to them invaluable knowledge pertaining to Arcanism. AHTALONNII ELIBAR’ACAL, that always protected the Ancient Traditions of Haelun'or. elTalonnii that gifted Fi'hiiran'tayna to elmali’thill. TALONNII SEREGON, that ensured the safety and Hiylun of elmali’thill by their service in elsillumiran and the Clinic. SILVOS SYTHAERIN, AND HIS TALONNII, that contributed greatly to Maehr’sae by their tireless work in the Laboratories. Who invented Acid, the great purifier of all who have erred beyond reconciliation. AHTALONNII URADIR, PURE DESCENDANTS OF KALENZ, that once led elmali’thill to greatness in the times of the Fringe, uniting Elvendom under the rule of elmali’thill. AHTALONNII SULLAS, PURE DESCENDANTS OF LUCION, that gave mali’thill the Silver Law and invented Electric Evocation. elTalonni of logicians, respected for resolving disputes between residents of Elcihi’thilln. TALONNII ALDIN, that made tremendous contributions to the Eternal Library and education of elmali’thill. AHTALONII MIRAVARIS, that ensured the prosperity of elmali’thill by the reformation of ElSillumiran, and numerous public lessons on the teachings of Larihei. AHTALONNII LAZUL, that gifted the Dichotomy of Lewdness to elmali’thill, and who always aided the blessed denizens of Haelun’or with their wisdom. MAEHR’SAE HIYLUN’EHYA Sohaer, Braxus Ni’leya Okarir’maehr, Idendril Elassidil
  5. Ancient House Frey https://open.spotify.com/track/4TVtXw28cKW0qT8aNM2ODh?si=mpztXve2T86_FUkK8gIbkQ Sapientia Igni Wisdom in fire! “ Our hands STEEL, Our minds like saints!” “Our blood will live on through our work. Mindless are the warriors, Gods are the one with talent.“ Ancient House Frey Wisdom in fire! “ Our hands STEEL, Our minds like saints!”
  6. Looking for a House to join? Aye! If you are new to the server and want to connect with other players, bonding together... helping each other out. You are free to message me on discord to join our House, currently it has two members... Not a lot tbh, but we are rather new... It's located in Oren, and we accept only players from there. There's no restrictions on the age, gender of your character... You could be sibling/cousin/uncle, but you have to be a heartlander or at least from the human race.... Discord: Valecius#5323 ^^ Current Family Tree
  7. HOUSE TELEMNAR A Comprehensive Guide, by Olórin Telemnar. Seed. 12th of the Deep Cold, 02 SA ~Introduction~ The House of Telemnar is a noble family of sea elves whose roots trace back to the firstborn son of Malin, Sylvaen Everflame. They claim their elder descent through the bloodline of Telemnar Sylvaeri, an esteemed mariner of the ancient world and custodian of the high seas. In the present age, they have established their home within the Princedom of Elvenesse. ~Ancient History~ In years of yore, in the wake of the Aegisian wars, upon the rattled Almenodrim was imposed exile, their society setting out across the vast oceans, departing Old Malinor. The subsequent centuries of voyaging and chartering culminated in an almighty seaborne civilisation, with great citadels of solid stone being raised upon even the most distant of shorelines. Through these bustling ports did both resources and wealth flow, enriching the lives of the indulging elven mariners for generations. Yet, so too with wealth did greed foster, and in its wake was born an age of piracy. Beyond the sheltered citadels, no merchant could ever hope to find refuge from plundering seadogs, and there were none more feared than the Dread Pirate Kaer. A silver-maned elf, infamously skilled at the mast and honed with a brutal instinct of cunning. His black ships, like the tentacles of a merciless kraken, crushed any unfortunate vessel caught within their grip, thus seizing mass hauls of bullion and spices. Said stolen fortune was enough to secure any one elf a luxurious life, but a vast deposit of gold could also fund greater ambitions. Kaer’s treasury was vast, but he lacked a sustainable port at which to dock, where he could unload his cargo and resupply without fear, nor bounty. None were more capable of providing such a prize than the Almenodrim. Intoxicated by craving desires, the Dread Pirate emptied his coffers, mustered an armada of over a hundred ships and like a tidal wave descended upon the trade colony of Ellerina, now present-day Amathea. At his back stood an army of ruthless mercenaries, hell-bent on breaching the outer walls and taking the Almenorean harbours for their own. They bombarded the coast and set the blockade, sealing in the garrison whom they sought to starve out. Word swiftly travelled to every corner of the established realm, with no more than two weeks having passed before ravens reached the citadel of Aegrothond itself. Ellerina, an established territory of the Crown, was under siege by a sizable seaborne opponent. At this revelation, Sea Prince Aegnor I sought the counsel of his most trusted advisors for three days and nights. Ultimately, a retaliation was in order, and so the Prince called upon his most valiant nephew, Telemnar Sylvaeri. Aegnor set him the task of assembling a fleet and breaking the siege upon the colony, for none amongst the Almenodrim were more adept at the helm. Telemnar, with fervent loyalty, obeyed his liege’s command. The fleet of warships, hastily assembled, numbered no more than forty, but what it lacked in size it compensated for in speed. Kaer had banked on securing the colony before his opponents could muster a relief force, but the starved garrison stood with the strength of a tower, for another month repelling every wave that dared crash against the shore. The corsairs, impatient and restless, grew so fixated with their objective that they had turned their eyes away from their perimeter. On the eve of the new moon, Sylvaeri’s fleet arrived, finding the stricken harbour battered and smouldering. Although the foe was ignorant to their arrival, Kaer still outnumbered the Almenodrin host near three to one. An attack in broad daylight would spell disaster and defeat. But Telemnar was cunning as a tactician and so he ordered the crews of two ships to disembark, the wooden hulks now to serve a separate purpose in his campaign. They waited until nightfall whenever the corsairs had retired and gloom clouded their vision. Within the darkness, crews awoke to the frantic tolling of bells, paving the way to a blood-curdling realisation. Two fireships steered straight into the heart of the armada, unleashing terror among the ranks of the immobile mercenaries. In the spur of the moment, many prematurely cut anchor, rendering their ill-prepared vessels vulnerable to the treacherous tides. Telemnar’s decisiveness had forged an opportunity and his warships subsequently tore into the chaos at full sail. Awoken to disarray, Kaer found himself trapped between impregnable cliffs and waters ablaze. In gracious formation, the swan prows of the Almenodrin host fell upon the flagship, timber hulls colliding in a shower of splinters. At the bow of the foremost vessel stood the black-maned Sylvaeri, clad in a silver habergeon wrought like fishes’ mail. The marines of Aegrothond disembarked, pouring onto the deck of the corsair ship. Blades rang in a brutal battle of blood and steel, and amidst it clashed Kaer and Telemnar. The Dread Pirate and Sea Lord exchanged blows and equal ire, both cutlass and falchion notched and horridly streaked with crimson. Yet, as the morning sun rose over the red bay, it was Telemnar who seized victory, lashing Kaer from navel to collarbone and sending him sprawling into the churning waves below. Broken and scarred, he was soundly hauled from the dark abyss by his sons, with what remained of their forces retreating beyond the horizon. With the foe’s ambitions thwarted and the armada either routed or ran aground, a triumphant horn sounded from the distant harbour, signalling the long-awaited end to the siege. As a reward for his exceptional service, Sea Prince Aegnor I installed upon Telemnar the right to bear his own standard - one that, alongside his name, would be passed down for generations to come. ~Customs~ The House of Telemnar take great pride in their traditional customs, many of which stem from the common practises of their people, the Almenodrim. They are largely mariners by trade, remarkably skilled before the mast and often found at the helm of a vessel. Indeed, it is nigh impossible to come across one who lacks the knowledge to crew a seaworthy ship. The family is also known to have fostered remarkable artisans and smiths, often contributing to the rigging of ships and fashioning of armaments. So beloved is the sea that they have adopted a sentimental practice in accordance with their lifestyle. On the eve of a lengthy seaward expedition, it is expected of a spouse to present a wreath woven of coniferous branches to their better half, which is then fastened to the prow of the boat as a charm of good fortune. Blessed are those who bear such an offering, for it is believed they shall ultimately return home unscathed. Peculiarly, the Telemnars are also regarded as one of few branches of Almenodrim who still pay homage to an old animistic deity, the mystical Goddess of the Sea. Adherence to this ancient creed is typically conveyed via prayers uttered upon voyages or depictions of an oceanic lady in crafted icons, murals and tapestries. However, their most revered tradition, in taking after their cousins in the House of Sylvaeri, would be the custom known as the Oath of the Seven. A sacred vow sworn by all members to come of age in commemoration of the Seven Sons of Sylvaen. It is then accompanied by the application of rings crafted from Bloodsilver, set upon the prospect’s finger still fiery from the forge. Over the centuries, the Oath has instilled values of integrity and honour within the family. To violate it is to disgrace yourself and to turn your back on the bloodline. ~Characteristics~ Historically, the House of Telemnar has carried distinctive traits, largely those tied to direct scions of Sylvaen. Elves of this bloodline are universally tall in stature, usually bearing skin of a fair and ageless complexion, though occasionally tanned due to working within the sea trade. Their ears are also relatively modest, often more refined and smaller proportioned. In elder days, the family were known to bear long weaves of raven-black hair. Yet, in recent centuries, this has been largely phased out by fairer shades of both blond and copper, the former more common in the present age. However, their most distinctive features would be the colours of their eyes; either neutral grey - commonly attributed to Sylvaen himself. Or alternatively, luminous teal - uniquely reserved to descendants of the main line.
  8. The Varygian Order Vallmen of House Vallberg Ranks Chief Commander The commander of the band, leads and manages the band of soldiers. Officer Leads as a squadron and is responsible for it's management, carries out the Commander's orders to the team. Varygian Huskarl The elite guardian, training to protect it's subject at full effort. The Huskarl was adopted from the pagan nords, using a large battleaxe as primary weapon. These elite guards are expected to be large and bulky men, and brutes when it comes to fighting. Varygian Lancer The Lancers are the mounted soldiers, the cavalry of the Order. Horsemen who serve on similar duties as a footman but given their own horse and special gear to fit mounted combat. As a group the cavalry represents the shock troop on the battlefield. Varygian footman Standard infantry soldiers, preforming the standard duties of the order. Recruit The newest members of the Order, to be taught and trained to become proper Varygian soldiers. Application
  9. Hey so I'm playing Lord of the craft a lot lately but I don't know how to get Minas/Money in game or even a job. I'm probably just a huge noob and the answer is literally easy to figure out but... I spent most of my money on stuff I needed like food etc.. and now I'm basically asing or looking in chests (that are labeled Free food) to get it. Can you help me with that? Also, I've asked around about how to get a residence in Lauren'lin, people say find so and so and he/she will set you a home. but I don't know who that is.. Plus with the mina thing I don't think that I would be able to own a home there because I can't get minas to pay for it....... Sorry if this was in the wrong topic, I looked and couldn't find anything related to this. thanks for helping if you can! Love Lord of the Craft!
  10. *Posters and letters are placed throughout the Kingdom of Oren as well spread throughout the cloud temple.* *The red hound of House Briarwood is stamped on the fine piece of parchment* Let it be known. As of late, recent murmurs of a powerful enchantment has been on the lips of every man, woman, and child. There have been a multitude of discussions based around how said enchantment came to be, and whether or not it is a hoax cooked up in a mischievous enchanter’s basement, which in all honesty appears to be a more reasonable story. While no answer will be provided concerning the origins of said mystical rune, this missive has been penned to alert the masses that, the rumors are true. Those who work in service of House Briarwood have indeed unearthed the method of producing mystical armor. As to how a man of considerable wealth might gain such a piece of work, this missive serves as a means of acquiring the enchantment. For the price of one thousand five hundred minas, a book bound with the rune’s power may be purchased. For the price of one thousand and nine hundred minas, a prodigal crafted helm imbued with the rune’s power may be purchased. For the price of one thousand nine hundred and thirty minas, a prodigal crafted chestplate also imbued with the rune’s power may be purchased. For the price of one thousand nine hundred and twenty minas, a prodigal crafted set of leggings may be purchased, containing the same runic power. For the price of one thousand eight hundred and ninety minas, a prodigal crafted set of armored boots can also be purchased. For an order of an entire suit of armor, of course also imbued with said mystical enchantments, the price comes to a total of five thousand minas. In addition, holding the tradition of merchants dear, all prices can be arranged to be negotiated through a letter to Griffith Briarwood. (Lynxy) OOC Note:
  11. Character Name: Thórvárd Faoláin (Nym'rakkoreak Vala'rusiak Nicknames: Nym, Goofy, The heartless Adunian Age: 34 (245) Gender: Male Race: Adunian (Wood-elf) Status: Revengeful; Bloodthirsty; Fighting, Leading is house, Keeping his family close Description Height: 6f5" Weight: 210 pounds Body Type: Muscular Eyes: Grey Hair: Short sides, long fringe and top hair Skin: Tanned slightly, other wise quite pale Markings/Tattoos: Arms covered in tattoos all look Celtic like, on the right side of his head he has the tattoo of an eagle to represent his freedom. Health: Healthy Personality: Heartless; Kind to the right people, will do anything to protect his family, if anyone were to threaten them, he would make sure they were dead before they left the room. Inventory: Sometimes carries a longbow with a wolf pelt quiver, containing 24 bodkin tipped arrows, normally carries three axes, two made from crucible steel by Nels Verian, has a round shield upon his back normally. Further Details: It is hard for him to trust someone, but once he does he will die for them to make sure that they are safe and well. Extremely loyal to his close friends, hates his past and being called Nym by none friends. He only gives the right to close friends. Life Style Alignment*: Neutral-evil Religion: None Alliance/Nation/Home: Alras Job/Class: Mercenary/soldier, Wealthy Title(s): Ex Adunian ranger, ex Golden Lance Wrymstalker, ex-Knight of Oren Profession(s): Lord of his House, guard/soldier Special Skill(s): Able with his axes good with a bow, has adrenaline rush which causes him to go out of hand and unable to control his emotions, will most likely hurt friends if this comes out of hand. Flaw(s): He has many flaws, he has really bad anger issues, his family, his emotions, love-life, trust, was enslaved before any slave will cause him to go into depression and remember his past. Adrenaline rush can sometimes go out of hand. Could cause him depression. Weaponry Fighting Style: Right foot placed forward, his body turned to the left, his left foot behind, leant forward slightly, his shield held up to his chest area, his axe kept below his hip, able to move in most directions and can charge when needed. Will sometimes use the power of his shield to be used as a wall and charge at someone in the attempt to knock them to the ground. Sometimes will also shield bash using the centre of his shield, which holds a steel centre piece used for shield-bashing. Archery stance: His right foot again placed infront of left, leaning forward, the stem of his bow held in his left hand, giving a hand-shake grip around the handle, draws to the end of his chin, his elbow lifted, two-fingers holding the arrow and string. Trained Weapon[s]: Longbow, longsword, shortsword, greatsword, Hand-axe. Favored Weapon: Hand-axe and round-shield Archery: His archery is what he may be best at, though is long forgotten, only for used when hunting. Biography Parents: Deceased Siblings: His 'Brother' Ventios (Not brothers by blood, but by choice) Children: Three, Julia, Glawion and Lothaire, his adopted son. Extended Family: None Pet(s): Used to have a Dire-wolf as a companion Currently no character art, anyone willing to do some please pm me, would be generous and greatly accepted, cheers :P
  12. Character Name Nicknames: Uncle, Raz, Razraz, Razzers, Raz-Berry, Ray, Rayray, R, Age: 22 Gender: Male Race: Human Status: Alive Description Height: 6'3 Weight: 159 lbs Body Type: Average Eyes: Blue Hair: Brown Skin: Caucasian Markings/Tattoos: An eagle branded on his chest. Health: Healthy Personality: Varies, Raziel tends to keep to himself, and rarely smiles. Inventory: Rapier, Further Details: Raziel is missing both of his ring fingers, and his right eye. Raziel always wears a black eye patch, unless somebody forcibly takes it off... Life Style Alignment*: None Deity*: Setherien Religion: Setherien Alliance/Nation/Home: Abresi, soon to be in the Conclave of Malin Job/Class: N/A Title(s): "Glaciem" as a nickname Profession(s): Reading and writing, sewing Special Skill(s): Sword play, sewing Flaw(s): Can sometimes be stubborn, or rash, and again, he's usually a rather quiet but angry person. Magic Current Status: Hydromancer Arch-type: Sub-Type: Rank: Tier 2 Weakness(es): Currently very weak at it, never uses it in combat, and is still practicing. Strength(s): N/A Current Spell(s): N/A Weaponry Fighting Style: Defensive Trained Weapon[s]: Swords / Some in Axes Favored Weapon: Rapier Archery: No Biography Parents: Chanelle & Atticus Acosta Siblings: Kreleniel, Dawn, Rivenza, Crineas, Elogan, Asira, Mythras Children: Eren (Adopted) Extended Family: Lili (Niece), Nyx (Niece), Ituri (Niece), Henry (Nephew), Melody (Niece), (This is where he gets the nickname "Uncle" from) Pet(s): N/A History Raziel is a charming human being, or at least tries to be. He is preferably tall for a human, standing at 6’3 with brown hair. Raziel prefers to pick up books and mugs, more than he does swords and armor. He may not like fighting, but years of fencing with his brother, Crineas, made him quite lethal with his Rapier. He can usually be found with his face in a book, and he can be rash and anti-social at times with his short temper. He usually always throws a conniption when people pick on his few, but dear, friends. (Sorry for being very brief) Artwork
  13. The Claxdons: House Claxdon is the House lead by His Lord Earl Matthew Claxdon the first of his name. His sister, Lucia Claxdon, also helps to run the House and serves as Lord Commander. His Brother, Lord Giovanni Claxdon, Also helps with the Military and helps run the House. *Criers are out in the major cities, they wear tunics with the Claxdon sigil on it. They speak out the following message. “The Lords of House Claxdon ask for men who are willing to fight for them! To serve and protect and to live under the Lords. The Lords promise to be fair and just in return for their peoples service. They promise them safety within their lands and pay for those who work underneath them. If you wish to join House Claxdon and share in its glory, come speak to us and we will give you the following notice to fill out then send to the Lords.” The Ranks: The ranks of the House are as follows, going from most powerful to least powerful. House Patriarch This is the leader of the House and all the lands that are under his House. When within his lands his word is law. Member of the Claxdon Bloodline These are as said, the Claxdons which have been born into the name, and those who have been married into the name. They are second in Command and there level of command goes in terms from eldest to youngest. Steward: The steward serves the House and acts directly upon the Lords Orders. He plays an important role of the keepings of the House. He also advises the Lord when it comes to warfare and political affairs. Lord Commander of the Claxdon Guard: These are normally men and women that are within the Claxdon Bloodline, although sometimes they are outsiders that have proven their loyalty to the Claxdons. Captain: The second in command of the army. They will each be in-charge of a squad of the Claxdon army which may be sent out on different missions. They will each be in-charge of up to a maximum of five men. Lieutenant: If the Captain is unavailable to lead the squad, the part falls down to the Lieutenant of the squad, which is chosen by the Captain. Bannermen: These men make up the squad and the main military force of the Claxdon army. These are the loyal men who serve the Claxdons and protect their lands. They are highly respected among the citizens and will not be disrespected by any of those below them within the Claxdon lands. The High Guard: These are men who have proven themselves in battle and have proven their loyalty to the Lords of the House. These men travel with the Lords as their personal body guards. They accompany the House Patriarch to meetings. They have sworn oaths of fealty to the Lords of the House and have vowed to protect them with their lives. Failure to do so, or the breaking of this oath will result in death. They take up masks of silver and are skilled warriors. Members House Patriarch: Earl Matthew Claxdon (Beast720) Steward of House Claxdon: Visha (Oblivionsbane) Lord Commander: Lucia Claxdon (Tekek) Giovanni Claxdon (kralek) Captains: Chirr Feta'iyat (guenther) Lieutenants: To be Chosen. Bannermen: Thomas Reid (colaone1) Elros Elanesse (Darez14) Toruug (Yopplwasupxxx) Edmure Parkins (77minerman) Ikur Chirr ((draguzz)) Leap Hikaru (Leap1) The High Guard: Visha (Oblivionsbane) Maletone ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Application to become a Bannermen: In Character: Name: Age: Race: Short Biography (1-2 Paragraphs): Previous line of work: What are your professions and talents?: Why do you wish to join the Claxdon Bannermen? OOC: Apply here as well: https://docs.google....sted=true&pli=1 Upon acceptance you will be provided arms, armour and food. Payment: Shall be discussed IG. The Claxdons Need You! ((The other post was moved to "inactive" to be able to change owners of the post, House Claxdon IS still active.))
  14. House Flay “Blood for Coin!” House History Following his return after 20 years of exile, August Flay - Lord of House Flay - reformed his renowned household with the blessing of the Emperor Godfrey in the Holy Oren Empire. Unfortunately for him, much had changed in the decades of his disappearance, and the paramountcy he once enjoyed in Oren politics was a thing of the past. New powers ruled in Oren. Unwilling to face the fact that his power had long since waned, August Flay allied himself with the Teutonic Order and challenged the Order of the White Rose; a grievous error on his part. Having not given himself enough time to gather his strength, House Flay was dealt a decisive defeat by the numerically superior Roses and their allies, and to all those in Oren and outside - appeared to have been shattered completely. Indeed it seemed this way in the aftermath. In his rage and denial, August Flay removed dozens of men from his service, murdered loyal subordinates, and began plotting his return to power. He hired sellswords, he gathered vassal houses. Most importantly, he sent a request to the Emperor. A change of his name, from the infamous Flay to the newly coined Blackmont. In this, August hoped to start anew, establish a new identity for himself and his men in the Empire. Having gathered what men he deemed loyal and fit, the first Lord Blackmont began plotting and planning, intent on retaking what he once held. In an effort to consolidate his position, Lord Augustus I hammered out alliances and took on new vassals, becoming liege to the Houses Carrion, Woods, Letholdus, and Greymane. Upon his arrival to the land of Anthos with his personal army, Lord Blackmont moved quickly to establish a new base of operations and wasted no time in resuming his activities of intimidation and terror. Peace never did last long when Lord Augustus Blackmont was involved. In a bid for more power and additional land, he declared formal war upon the Teutonic Order, relying on his terror tactics and superior numbers - albeit inferior organization. Additionally, a son was born to him by his wife, Lorin Chivay, the son that Augustus had prayed for for so many decades. With this new heir, Tiberius, born, Augustus groomed him from the beginning - so that he could properly assume control of House Blackmont upon his own death. With tensions only increasing along with open conflict in north, battle lines were drawn as different noble houses decided who they were to fight alongside. At full strength and readily mobilized for war, House Blackmont geared itself to fight any that they deemed necessary in order to advance in status and power. With the help of House Blackmont's allies, a siege upon the Dreadfort was broken and the Teutonic Order forced into retreat. In his final days, Augustus lived to see the day that the Order was officially disbanded, before finally dying in his bed, alongside his most trusted followers. Shortly thereafter, his eldest son, Tiberius, was named his successor. Though he held much resentment towards his father for his harsh and peculiar upbringing, he quickly took the reigns in House Blackmont as Lord Tiberius Blackmont II. In an event known by many as the 'Crimson Banquet,' Tiberius arranged a feast to celebrate his own rule over House Blackmont. Here, as a toast was declared in his honour, he was poisoned and died instantly. In the subsequent confusion, accusations were thrown between the Bannerman and a brawl quickly ensued. In the chaos, the Dreadfort was set alight and the surviving Bannerman forced to seek a new home from the Emperor. Under the new Lordship of Augustus's youngest son, Lucius, they rebuilt the Dreadfort close to Oren's capital, where they intended to restore the House to its former glory. Lucius Blackmont and his men drop to their knees as they reach the throne, they guards lower their head in respect as Lucius speak out "Your Imperial Majesty". Horen looks over to Lucius nodding at him as he speaks "Aye, Lord Justiciar?". Lucius and his men rise from kneeling as he clears his throat and begins to speak "I have a request for you, I wish to retain our old name. The name that broke fear into so many hearts, the name we are still called today. I wish for myself and my family to be called House Flay." He darts his eyes to Horen then to the men around the throne with him, a small bead of sweat falling from his forehead as he waits nervously. Horen shifts in his throne before he speaks out "Very well then Lord Justiciar, you have my blessing." Lucius smiles and places his hands behind his back, gripping his two hands together. "That is all Your Imperial Majesty" He gives a slight bow of his head as he spins on his heels and marches out of the Palace, two Man of Arms quickly following after him by his side. Customs The most noticeable feature about House Flay is its practice of skinning its enemies alive, and in some cases dead. Soldiers hang trophies of these skins, from any and all races and allegiances, as a show of glory. These sometimes full body husks of rotting flesh are seen as a sign of military merit in the House, and the more a soldier has on his wall, the more respected and prone for bonuses. Within the upper echelons of House Flay, many shroud their more devious nature, utilising a silver tongued wit to escape the most dangerous encounters. Though soldiers of House Flay are known for their ruthless appetites, over the years, they have further learnt to appreciate the importance of subtlety and deception. Goals The men of House Flay have but one will, that of their leader - the Lord of Flay. What he has in priority is known only to him truly, but the household and those who lead it have always been known to have an affinity for chaos and corruption. Their lust for power is unparalleled in the Empire, and their brutality is not matched by any other force that serves the Emperor. Responsibilities Becoming a soldier for House Flay is taxing both physically and mentally. Tasks often are of a violent and immoral nature, including but not exclusive to: intimidation, robbery, murder and torture. Nothing is off limits to a Flay man, if he knows what is best for him. Ranks Base Ranks Lord of Flay: The head of HouseFlay, to be held by the eldest male relative to the previous holder of the title when deceased or deposed Captain of the Guard: Charged with the responsibility to lead soldiers into battle, this position is coveted as one to be held by only the most zealous, efficient, and cruel of Flay’s retainers. Sergeant of the Guard: As direct subordinates to the Captain of Guard, these men are charged to help manage the soldiers in times of battle and action in the field. Master of Arms: Men at Arms in House Flay who achieve much in their in servitude to Lord Flay and are recognised by the Captain as proficient warriors are granted the rank of Master of Arms. These are some of the most skilled and ruthless warriors in the House and are infamous for their merciless techniques. Man at Arms: A professional soldier in service to the house, many of these men are in fact kidnapped at a young age for service. They fight for the household and are expected to complete any task by given a superior. They are expected to have few morals, an understanding of obedience and discipline, and a large sense of loyalty to their liege lord of Flay. This rank is achieved upon completing the initiation process of flaying one's enemy. Unblooded: By no means kind or of compassionate disposition, unblooded men don the same uniform as the rest of the rank, but are simply noted to not have taken the final step to becoming a man of the Dreadfort. Specialty Ranks Men who hold speciality ranks are automatically assigned a rank that is above the common Master of Arms, Man at Arms and Unblooded, but is under the authority of Sergeants and above. Quartermaster: The quartermaster is tasked with managing the supplies necessary to maintain House Flay at an optimum level. Spy Master: Subterfuge and deception has always been highly valued by Flay, and will continue to be valued. The Spy Master has the responsibility of keeping up to date on the affairs of Anthos, as well as delving into deeper missions. Master of Alchemy: The master of alchemy is in charge of brewing various concoctions, in order to aid House Flay's cause. He has the responsibility of brewing and distributing brews and potions to the soldiers during times of war. House Engineer: In terms of warfare, the House Engineer is in charge of constructing and organising the positioning of siege weapons, while also creating traps made from redstone wiring. Equipment and Pay Upon joining this force, every man regardless of rank receives the following: - A suit of armour, the best available to be given out. - Weapons according to preference. - Weekly food rations. - Room for living, or assistance in acquiring a home. Upon being promoted to the rank of Man At Arms, every man is entitled to the following: - An unlimited supply of armor, or as many suits required or available. - Unlimited acces to the Flay weapons armory. - Food rations on demand. - A red bandanna or armband. Flay men are not payed on a fixed basis, but are often payed based on the results on a given task or mission. In addition, all loot a man might be able to garner in raids and campaigns of war are his by right, and may not be taken from him. Rules - Do not raid or seriously wound another member of House Flay, on penalty of death. - Do not raid or assault allies of House Flay or other noble Houses of Oren, unless explicitly stated, on penalty of death. - Do not betray House Flay, on penalty of death. - Do not insult or disrespect your superiors, on penalty of death. - Do not hesitate in combat or when given an order, on penalty of death. - Do not disobey or disrespect a member of the Flay family, on penalty of death. Requirements IC: - A willingness to fight, and die, for the cause of House Flay and its Lord, whatever it may be. - An absence or lack of morals that may interfere in any work done in the name of House Flay. - The ability to subordinate oneself to superiors and follow orders given. - No current allegiances. OOC: - Skype and Teamspeak are preferred. - Must have or be willing to write a villain application with at least 1a, 2a, and 2c. - Must conduct themselves in a mature manner OOCly. Joining A flyer emblazoned with the flayed man of Flay hangs upon the jobs board in the various cities of the Holy Oren Empire. Those who wish to join the men of Flay and become true sons of the Dreadfort are required to send a letter - written by another if unable to read nor write - stating their intention to join while making it fully aware that said applicant understands the implications of joining. ((Send me a PM through the forums, after posting on the thread, role playing that you have sent the letter.)) The letter should contain the following format.
  15. The Kilburn watch serves House Green as Bannermen, protecting the County of Kilburn and overall the Duchy of Corazon. Brief Backround: The Kilburn Watch is a Guard Force Reformed from the old Bannermen Guardforce "The Emrald Rangers", This reform was brought up between the Heads of the Bannermen Codrik Green, Coltius Green, and Vaclav Pascal. The Guardforce take an oath to serve House Green and their Interests, which is protecting the local lands and the County of Kilburn, and in times need the Duchy of Corazon. The Kilburn Watch are trained in weapons that each soldier specialize in, Swords, Bows, Crossbows. They are given Armour, Homage, Food, and storage for their trade of loyalty. The Kilburn Watch currently is Held and Ran by Commander Vaclav Pascal, and each soldier under his commander stand guard over the County, Keeping peace within the Duchy of Corazon, and serving House Green. History on the Emerald Rangers: The Emerald Rangers are the Guard-force of House Green and their lands. They’re a group of men and women who’ve pledged themselves to the protection of the people and lands of Green County, and the surrounding roads. The Rangers were created during the time when the Greens ruled the Island Nation of Empyreal; they were constructed to protect Stonedar, and later the city of D’hara. Joshua Green had trained the New-bloods with ranged weaponry, which quickly became the favorite of the Rangers, and was half due to their name. Joshua had stepped down as Overseer of the Rangers, and had placed the task of maintaining them to Codrik, Adams first-born; due to his many years of service under Codrik, Hadrian Odiare was made a Knight of House Green, and is now given control over the Rangers. Now stationed in the town of Baile, in Green County; Hadrian is set on turning the Emerald Rangers into finest archers in Oren. Joining: Joing the Kilburn Watch grants you a number of benefits. For your oath and loyalty we will see that you are Homaged, Fed, and have a place for your own storage, We will house you like a Brother, and you will be treated like such among our ranks. We are always looking for new members to join the Watch to serve House Green and protect the County of Kilburn and the Duchy of Corazon. Ranks of the Kilburn Watch: Commander: 120 The Head of the Watch, controls all of the Watch under orders of the lord of House Green. Captain: 100 Mina Pay Men of High Position who devoted their time and loyalty to the Watch, commanded by the Commander Only. Lieutenant: 50 Mina Pay Ranking Officer of the Watch, Able to command their own squads. Watchmen: 20 Mina Pay These are men who devoted their loyaty to the Watch, earning a higher rank and pay. New Blood: No Pay ​A new member of the Watch, you will go through training before you receive any kind of pay, taking your Oath to House Green. Uniforms: New Blood Guardsmen - Watchmen Lieutenant-Commander ((Right click then Press "Save Image as..", and apply the skin over your original skin. editing is allowed in minor spots, such as no hood. Please Make sure to grab the right Uniform)) Application: ((This Application is in Character, Please write it as you would RPly, If you put in an Application with out meeting in Game Please RP it as a Bird.)) ((Mc name:)) ((Skype[You will be Added to the Chat]:)) ((Got Teamspeak?:)) Name: Race: Age: Brief description of yourself: Other Guilds/Forces you Served: Other skills: Any other info: Oath: I [RP name] will serve House Green and their interests until the day I die or relieved of duty by the Lord of House Green or the Commander them selves.
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