Search the Community

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Theodorus Sebastian Guile—Theo to those who knew him—was never a man bound by convention, nor did he ever fit the mold of the perfect knight. His early years were spent on a farm far, where the simple pleasures of working the land and chasing the horizon were enough for him. Theo was a man who lived for the moment, full of laughter and rebellion, never one to abide by the strictures of duty or ceremony. Though born into a humble family, Theo’s life would eventually take a different turn. Under the venerable Ser Philip and powerful Ser Robert Stroeim 's tutelage, he received and trained with the diving blessing of the Archaengul Malchediael. Soon after, he was inducted into the Church’s order, where he was sworn in as a knight under the guidance of the righteous Holy Ser Macskaul. But even as he was bestowed with the sacred title, Theo’s heart was never truly in it. He did not seek the divine mission for faith or virtue, but only for his own vanity. Theo’s knightly life was anything but conventional. Where others dedicated themselves to prayer and devotion, Theo found himself more often than not found himself off in taverns, telling crude jokes, or seeking out the next scrap of combat for the thrill of it. His swordsmanship, though refined, was nothing special, his oaths of fealty lightly sworn but rarely upheld. Not above using deceit and immorality to achieve his goals, he looked with disdain at the pious rituals of his order, and the discipline of his fellow knights was a foreign concept to him. It was all a game, a game where the prize was nothing but glory. In truth, he had never truly understood the gravity of his calling. The Church had given him a sword and a title, but it was the land he had come from that had truly shaped him. The farm was where he had learned to live for the day, to chase the fleeting moments of joy and abandon, to run barefoot through fields of green. So, when Theo embarked on a routine patrol to Port Tatiyana with Cardinal Ivan, it was little more than another diversion from his duties. They rode north, nothing more than a simple check-up—no danger, no conflict. But, as fate would have it, they stumbled upon what was the end. A gathering of darkspawn, necromancers, and paleknights stood in their path—a twisted assembly of unholy forces. For a moment, Theo’s ever-present nonchalance faltered, but only briefly. He was not a man given to fear. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ "Ivan, take my horse, get help." ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ As he stood alone against the horde, it was clear he was not focused on victory. He fought not for honor, nor for glory—he fought merely to survive. The undead closed in, and Theo’s movements were a frantic blur of evasion. He ducked beneath strikes, dodged blows, and desperately avoided being overwhelmed. He never sought to strike down his enemies in those first moments, only to avoid being crushed under their numbers. The fight dragged on—Theo’s movements were growing slower, more sluggish. He was tired, his body battered from the relentless assault. As Theo fought alone, his strength waning with each passing moment, the sound of hooves on the horizon reached his ears. Ivan had returned. The light of hope flickered in his chest—reinforcements had arrived, and with them, perhaps the chance for survival. Through the haze of battle, Theo could see the figures of Haeseni soldiers charging toward the fray, the banners of the Light fluttering in the wind. Among them were the youthful squires, about to prove their mettle in combat. Their faces were set with determination, their eyes filled with the courage of youth. The reinforcements slammed into the darkspawn with the ferocity of a fresh wave, cutting into the rotted warriors and paleknights that had hemmed Theo in. The undead forces staggered under the assault, and the soldiers fought valiantly, their swords flashing, their cries of battle ringing out with great fervor. But it wasn’t long before the weight of the enemy began to tell. The undead horde was vast, and their numbers seemed endless. Flesh constructs—controlled by masters of twisted inclinations—rushed forward with terrifying speed, skeletal knights, unexhaustable with their unending reserves of stamina surged forth. The soldiers, though valiant, were not prepared for the sheer number and grotesque strength of these abominations. Theo could see it now—his comrades were being overwhelmed. The initial hope that had surged through him began to drain as the battle turned against them. The soldiers, now spread thin, struggled to hold their ground. Theo could hear their cries, their voices choked by the agony of battle, their hopes slipping away with each step the enemy took. His heart sank as he realized—this was no longer a fight they could win with numbers alone. The darkspawn were too many, their ranks too thick, their bodies too relentless. The squires, once eager and full of spirit, were now being overwhelmed where they stood, the enemy sparing no quarter with the youth. Theo struggled on, but the weight of the situation grew clearer. Reinforcements had come, yes, but they were not enough. The light was being overwhelmed. The battle had become unfavorable, and the darkspawn seeming nigh undefeatable. Theo’s heart pounded, and as they fought to hold their ground, he knew the battle was slipping away. Pinned beneath two undead warriors, he could do nothing but watch as they fell beneath the weight of the horde. His sword, once bright with the promise of valor and glorious stories to tell, now felt like a dead weight in his hands. His life—his carefree, thrill-seeking life—had led to this moment: watching others struggle while he could do nothing but fight for his own survival. Then, in the chaos, in a rare moment of clarity and gravity, he knew what had to be done. It was not a call to glory, nor a cry for vengeance. It was something deeper—something that had lain dormant within him for all these years, something much greater than he. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ "Malchediael...Aengul of Courage...Grant me your strength." ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ And in that instant, everything changed. The world seemed to pause as a burst of divine fire consumed him, burning away his exhaustion, his doubt, and his very flesh. His limbs, broken and battered, were restored in an instant—replaced with limbs of pure, radiant light. His wounds healed, his strength renewed. The power of Malchediael surged through him like a tidal wave, pushing him beyond the limits of mortal endurance. In that moment, Theo was no longer the carefree, unserious man who had sought nothing but his own pleasures. He was a vessel of Malchediael. With his sword raised, Theo turned the tide of the battle. His strikes were swift and devastating, cutting through the undead with precision and force. He cleaved through the enemies with the power of a thousand men, each swing of his blade sending waves of divine light cascading through the ranks of the darkspawn. The enemy scattered before him, retreating into the shadows. Victory seemed assured. But as the last of the darkspawn fled, Theo could feel the cost of his power. The divine fire that had healed him began to burn too hot, too bright. His skin cracked, white light spilling from the fissures. The power of Malchediael that had saved him now consumed him from within, pulling at his soul, tearing at his very essence. He turned to his good friend, a smile upon his face as he spoke to him. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ "I'll be laughing at you from up there." ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ There was a response from the Cardinal, a somber chuckle ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ "Save a chair for me, you little rat." ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ It was then that he saw her. His soul's anchor—emerged from the mist of the battlefield, her movements hesitant as her eyes scanned the chaos around her. She had come looking for him, perhaps knowing something was wrong. Theo’s heart sank when he saw her, her face pale with horror as her gaze locked onto him, her steps faltering when she saw the condition he was in. She came forward, her hand reaching for him, but Theo, his body trembling, felt a coldness settle within him. She had seen his soul faltering. They shared brief words of reminiscence and encouragement, Theo handing her what little worldly possessions he could give. Yet as they spoke, the Templar could not help but feel one thing, regret, thoughts swirling and overwhelming his mind. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Too much to say, not enough time. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ They embraced, the soldier waiting for his end in her arms. With one last heavy sigh, he closed his eyes. The moment of surrender came in like a gentle ushering. A beam of light shone down, taking hold of his spirit. His essence, his soul, relinquished to the Aengul of Courage. Yet in this final moment of surrender, a strange thing happened. As Theo’s soul was taken by Malchediael, his body—now pure flame—began to transform. The divine light that had consumed him did not simply take his soul and destroy his body, it reshaped it. The ground beneath him trembled as the flames that had once been Theo’s flesh took form. Where the Templar of No Renown had stood, there was now a tree. It was no ordinary tree. It was a thing of white, ethereal beauty—its bark like shimmering silver, the leaves glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. The tree stretched toward the sky, its branches reaching out as if in search of something—redemption. The light from its leaves illuminated the snow around it, casting long shadows on the battlefield, a beacon in the night. The tree stood as a silent monument to the man who had given nothing until his last moments. And Reronda, standing a few paces away, could only watch as the man—flawed, reckless, and yet so full of life—was transformed. He was no longer the Theo she had known, but the light of Malchediael had shaped him into something eternal, something that would never fade. And in the end, there was no more Theo Guile. There was only the tree, standing illuminated in the snow. Theo had no letters written at the time of his death. For he had expected to live on for many more years.

*In all major cities and Kal'Halla, besides the Orcish ones, you see a several flies posted up.* The Holy Order of the Knight’s Templar Early History Modern History *A large portrait of a Templar knight is here.* Ranks and Positions Grand Master: The Leader of the Order in charge of everything. Noble Master: A noble in the Grand Master's council, they advise the Grand Master and have all power in things not concerning military. Seneschal: 2nd in command of the Order's military, he is responsible for training the knights and commanding them in battle. Right hand man of the Grand Master. Turcopolier: 3rd in command of the Order's military, he is responsible for training the sergeants and commanding them in battle. Confanonier [standard Bearer]: 4th in command of the Order's military. A knight in charge of all of the squires, responsible for their training, and worship. Templar Knight: A Holy Crusader who has risen throughout the ranks, he may take on a squire and train as well as command them in battle. Crusader Knight: A fresh knight in the Order who is commanded by the Seneschal. He may not take on a squire. Sergeant: The core footmen of the Order, they are the next step above a Squire. They no longer serve knights but continue to train and learn of the gods. Squire: A petty servant in the Order, they serve Knights and learn the ways of the gods as well as swordsmanship. Code Honor: The Templar believe in a strict code of Honor, meaning they will not back from a fight or start an unnecessary one. Loyalty: The Templar believe if anything is more important than the other codes, it is loyalty to the Order. Chivalry: Although not enforced, the Templar believe a touch of Chivalry is all but better. Chastity: Although the Templar do not restrict one from love, they believe that intercourse before marriage is a sin, and a man should only take one wife. Respect: The Templar believe that respect is not given, but earned, and all should respect their superiors no matter how hated they may be. Beliefs Our Order believes in the Creator and fights for him. Those who join are required to worship and take the Creator as their deity and fight for his respect. Other deities aren't welcome in our order and you will be killed if you worship another. Regular praying and mass are required within our Order. Recruitment If you wish to join leave a notice on one of these fliers (This Post) and come to Kal'Halla, the Entrance of the Wilds and speak with either Lucius Murmillo II (sprintindwarf), or Lucretius Murmillo I (Rexx8) Application Uniforms Other Notes: We are not copying anyone, this is a very old guild that me and rexx8 started in Aegis and we are restoring it finally after it was destroyed.