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TO THE ESHTAELITE FLOCK Issued at Year 150 of the Second Age With our most effective efforts of cleansing darkspawn from our most serene host nation of Lurin, where our flock roams the halls of Eshtael and Tahariae, we are now in the final phases of our aengul’s inquisition to restore balance to the lands. With our methods having been incredibly effective in the locating and eliminating of spooks, it shall be our duty to maintain this balance while it is present and remove those that should not be within the realm. Thus the inquisition shall persist as our flock shall end the rise in influence of darkspawn where we are able to, however, we are short of manpower to extend this inquisition beyond the borders of the CCC block and seek fellow members of the Eshtaelite flock who will join us in our mission to restore balance to not only Lurin, but every single realm who is threatened by darkspawn. ESHTAEL TENAS EKVILIBRON signed, Philliam, The Eshtaelite

THE FROST WITCHES IN LURIN Issued at Year 149 of the Second Age We found the frost witches, they are gone now. THE LAIR OF ICE Hidden deep underneath the city, there was a lair of ice. We blocked the only entrance with piles of wood and lit them on fire to smoke them out and melt their icy walls. Presumably there are no survivors as afterwards we stripped the lair of any defenses and texts they held. The names on the signs of their abodes within the lair seemingly were targeted towards Lurin itself as they included every single council member’s name including that of my own and notable Lurinites to mock us and use in transcripts written by them. Corpses were burnt, bodies in vats were found and all remaining forms of life were thrown into the hole without a bottom. SURVIVORS Not all frost witches were found or present within these caves, be careful of a return in another realm nearby. They may hide in vassals of surrounding nations as they are masters of disguise and may convert a female leader to be in favor of them. Testing here in Lurin continues to find those who have decided we are not hostile enough to their existence. ETERNAL WE STAND, ESHTAEL KEEPS BALANCE signed, The Silver Lubba

THE SIMPLE DEAL OF THE INQUISITION Issued at Year 146 of the Second Age Reports from our Silver Centurions have been flooded with false inquisitors and priests who do not understand the process. This document should bring light to the bare minimum requirements. ON THE INQUISITION It has been a success so far, having dealt with a few minor vampyric folks and Xionists who have tried to hide themselves in our borders, however, we have found that there are some who wish to join this inquisition without proper permissions resulting in vigilantism. To join the inquisition is very simple, all members of The Silver Centurions, Office of Stewards and Taxes, members of the Eshtaelite Church and The Brotherhood have the natural rights from the state to enact the inquisition. Joining this inquisition as a foreign entity is allowed once granted permission from the following: The Silver Lubba Lubba’s Council Members A Centurion Officer Cardinal Arnaud The High Pontiff Once granted permission from these entities, you will be needed to bear a letter signed by them, confirming your task in the inquisition. Those unable to actively participate in testing are free to point out and expose darkspawn, Xionists and vampyric folk to a permitted Inquisitor. ON OUR LAW OF UNLAWFUL PREACHING It was made with the purpose to reduce preachers of evil within our borders and those who are insensitive to the Lurinite culture and those deemed a nuisance to the general population, shouting senselessly into a square with barely any canonists present instead of willingly educating on a personal level. Recently we have seen an increase in preachers violating this law while in reality it is quite easy to do so lawfully. To be granted the right to preach for your religion you shall either need to do so within the Eshtaelite church or be granted permission from The Silver Lubba. The latter giving permission to preach wherever one desires as long as discrimination against the Lurinite folk and culture is not present. I personally hereby grant Cardinal Arnaud and Bishop Odo the permission to preach for their mission within reason. ETERNAL WE STAND, ESHTAEL KEEPS BALANCE signed, The Silver Lubba

ESHTAEL’S INQUISITION Issued at Year 145 of the Second Age Our most serene balance has been tipped without hesitation of the enemy. Regardless of our more peaceful efforts to cleanse our city of darkspawn, xionists and the vampiric to ward them from the city by laying down aurum lines at every bridge and gate. With our most serene city and requiring testing for both darkspawn and vampirism to acquire a property while being hunted by our constructs for their corruption, it is beyond our council why our very own citizens and vassals invite these pests to reside in our state. Change needs to happen. DETECTION OF THE VILE Every person within our state is subject to a standardized spook test such as those we perform to acquire properties, performed with an aurum dagger and a pouch of salt, this shall cover the majority of darkspawn, However, I will make one addition to this test: exposure to the heat of a torch becomes necessity to detect an entirely new threat, which was made apparent from my visits to The Commonwealth of the Petra. Reactions will be as follows: Aurum shall make darkspawn uneasy and take increased pain from it. Salt upon freshly spilt vampire blood shall boil it. The heat of a torch shall melt the skin of the people made of ice. Xionists, however, are harder to detect as they are folk without a religion and harbor an extreme hate towards Aenguls and the creator. We shall operate based on word of mouth and put all accused to trial and search their property for further evidence that makes us believe beyond a reasonable doubt that they are with this group. Due to the severity of the situation, all who are proven to belong to these groups shall be put down by the blade after receiving their last rites. ON THOSE WHO AID THE VILE Every person affiliated to these groups and those who harbor them shall receive a lesser punishment unless warranted otherwise. Their dominant arm shall be taken and capped off with steel embedded into the bone. The removal of these caps shall be considered criminal and remove the thumbs of the one doing so. All who are found to aid or harbor the vile shall be publicly shamed and exposed for their actions. To encourage those who house the vile to repent for their sins, any person who comes forth and tells us of the one they harbor and what they are shall be spared from punishment. THE VILE THAT TRY TO HIDE To the vile that try to hide, do not. Expose yourself and make it easier for us all or leave the city as soon as you are done reading this. We are determined to cleanse our territories of all Xionists, Vampiric folk, Ice People, Undead and Darkspawn. ETERNAL WE STAND, ESHTAEL KEEPS BALANCE signed, The Silver Lubba

THE INQUISITION PREVAILS Issued at Year 145 of the Second Age Tensions rose, Lurin denied by their very own vassal of Vikela to conduct spook tests upon them, though the inquisition did not yield. Eshtael graced us with the balance we sought and plenty of allies to aid us while Vikela fortified themselves. The last men and women from Talar’nor and various surrounding nations arrived to aid in our most holy goal to rid our lands of the dark, a cry was sounded by The Silver Lubba, offering mercy to those who come out the gate and allow themselves to be tested. None came out. The inquisition commenced. The varying groups in a coordinated fashion advanced to their positions, shooting arrows back and forth before a ladder was erected against the Vikelan walls where the forces gained access to their most fortified positions, mercenaries fleeing the site to the floodplains. All was dealt with rather swiftly inside the city itself to knock the defenders out. After this, we missed one important Vikelan by the name of Orn who followed the mercenaries, a prolonged skirmish on the floodplains followed. The mercenaries were not spared due to their questionable affiliation, however, Orn was spared after the spook test came out negative, proving he is not a vampire or darkspawn. After all was done and dusted, all headed back to Lurin and minor repairs were made and wounds treated. Negotiations with the allied forces commenced to strengthen bonds and keep our morale up high. THE INQUISITION IS VICTORIOUS ETERNAL WE STAND, ESHTAEL KEEPS BALANCE signed, The Silver Lubba

Loss of a brother, in both faith, and blood. ✛THE HOLY INQUISITION✛ UT UNUS IN FIDE AS ONE IN FAITH With a heart heavy as the stone walls of the basilica I write this in, I, Ser Knight Inquisitor Galadin, do hereby proclaim the extinguishment of a brother's flame. Let it be known throughout the realms that I, with a sorrowful heart, must enact the decree of excommunication upon my own kin, Gavre Gaunt, severing all his ties to the sacred institution of the Churches’ Holy Inquisition, henceforth and forevermore. The mantle of an Inquisitor bears a heavy weight and demands a demeanor befitting of our divine LORD's laws. Alas, my very own flesh and blood hath defiled said sacred union. - By drawing his weapon upon the revered Patriarch of the grand Kingdom of Haense, Aleksandr the Second, Gavre Gaunt has dared to trespass upon the very precedent of safety and justice that the Inquisition ardently seeks to uphold throughout the lands. In a moment of lamentation, I uncovered these blasphemous acts. And as one of the few commanders of our Holy Inquisition, no justification can be found for such transgressions other than absolute banishment from our esteemed ranks. Furthermore, preceding the aforementioned acts, an incident unfolded within the realm of Balian. Gavre Gaunt dared to interrupt a rightful persecution sanctioned by the King, pitifully turning a blind eye to their orders and offering assistance to a vagrant soul. These grievous offenses, when culminated, have left me with no choice but to pass judgment upon Gavre Gaunt in the following manner—a bounty to be bestowed upon the first valiant soul who returns his officially issued 'Inquisitorial Saber,' for he is no longer deemed worthy to wield such a blade. As for his crimes, they are no longer within the purview of the Inquisition to address and dutifully have been passed on to those whom he hath wronged. Let this missive echo through the annals of history as a solemn reminder of the unyielding commitment we, the defenders of the faith, must maintain in our tireless pursuit of justice and righteousness. May the divine light guide us all in these turbulent times. IN DEI NOMINE, HOC DECRETUM SIT IMMUTABILE. IN THE NAME OF GOD, MAY THIS DECREE STAND IMMUTABLE. Lay beneath the missive, attached is a sketch and price; "50 mina, for the confiscations and submission of Gavre's Inquisitorial Issued Saber."

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.”

CABALLERO CORPS Purpose The Caballero Corps is the main military organization for the Duchy of Barranquilla. Those brave souls who spill blood for Barranquilla and her citizenry. Charged with the responsibility of protection by putting their lives on the line. In return for their services the men of the Corps receive pay, comfortable living conditions and most importantly a haven from Imperialism. It is the people’s shield against invasion, and its spear of conquest. Hierarchy Comandante: At the top of the Corps is the Comandante. A tenacious soldier and capable strategist proven through many battles. A leader both on and off the field in charge of the Corps as a whole. The Comandante of the Corps is Faust Santiago. Dominar: A strong and capable officer corps makes or breaks an army, and the Dominar of the Corps are the best out there. With years of experience leading troops through battle and training them in peacetime, Dominar are responsible for the Corps’ effective operation. Entitled to best equipment and in charge of a division or specialty, Dominar of the Corps are the best of Barranquilla command. Bandera: A lower corps officer, a Bandera represents an enlisted man's transition into army leadership. Bandera execute commands at the head of smaller regional battalions. Entitled to the same benefits as a Sargento, as well as the added authority of officer status, a Bandera is well on his way towards rank advancement. Sargento: The highest attainable rank for an enlisted man before his transition to the officer corps, the Sargento is a battlefield veteran who has demonstrated an embodiment of military spirit and a mastery of martial skills. The Sargento are excellent fighters leaving onlookers in awe, and form the official Bulwark of His Grace. Privado: Surviving the cruelty of battle and trained in the art of combat and survival, Privado are the backbone of the Corps. Privado are supplied with quality steel. While in Duchy lands Privado are considered the guardforce for the region and are expected to uphold the peace and law. Alumno: Fresh blood, those yet to be trained or taste the fear of battle. Alumno face seemingly never ending training, harsh lectures and are pushed beyond their limits for His Grace. Those that do not give up and rise to the challenge will soon achieve the rank of Privado. Alumno receive last-pickings in armaments and armor. Enlistment To join the Caballero Corps, one must have all prerequisite requirements as stated. The Corps makes no special exceptions, as does His Grace. The requirements are as followed: - One must be of human or elven descent. - One must be of at least thirteen years of age. - One must be a citizen of the Duchy of Barranquilla. Application I. Name II. Age IIa. Date of Birth IIb. Place of Birth III. Race IIIa. Culture IV. Martial Knowledge V. Profession OOC MC Name: Skype ID:

The Malleus Maleficarum “Per Angusta Ad Augusta” History -WIP- Goal The Malleus Maleficarum desires to rid the world of wicked sorcery and sorcerers. Their belief is that ‘malicious and egocentric’ magic that only serves the user is a danger to society and an affront to God. Healing magic is the only exception to this strong belief. Values Respect our foe as much as our friend, for they may have made mistakes in life but that does not make them lesser than ourselves. Respect where it is due. Loyalty to your superiors will always be acknowledged and rewarded. Stay true to your word and you shall achieve greatness. Duty is what drives this organization, our duty to the realm. Serve the organization well and prove your accountability to the fatherland. Fear is one of the greatest weapons in our arsenal. Fear is also a deterrent and we will use this powerful weapon of ours to ensure that no one will follow in the footsteps of our enemies. It’s an unscrupulous strategy but it’s success rate is far too grand to be left ignored. Allegiance The Malleus Maleficarum has no official allegiances sworn currently. Ranks The Fledgling is the newest addition to the order, he who has not yet proven himself to take the oath. The Hunter is a full member, his loyalty to the cause is without doubt and he has proven his worth to the officers. The Vigilant is an officer with the control over a unit between two to seven men. The Captain, the man who oversees the Vigilants and ensures the proper training is given to the fledgling. The Vanquisher is the second in command of the order, a man trusted by the Vindicator to take his stead should anything put him out of service. The Vindicator’s word is law, his authority in the order is supreme and his commands are to be followed without question. Joining The organization allows men from all backgrounds into their ranks, be you a disowned son or a lowly pauper it does not matter as long as you will do your duty in the Malleus Maleficarum. -OOC- IGN: Skype/TS: Active hours/days: -IC- Name: Age: Reason for joining: Do you agree with the values of our order?: Former careers and/or professions: Roster: Vindicator Caspar de Gueux. Hunter Oscar of Norfolk