Author Topic: Crusades V.1 IC  (Read 5481 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline DaveIronside

  • Roleplay Moderator
  • Global Superpower
  • *****
  • Posts: 2,371
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: East Moreland / Royal Seleucid
Crusades V.1 IC
« on: December 05, 2017, 10:37:58 PM »
OOC thread PLEASE READ

Use of Mountjoy and Scordisci agreed with Rob and Kris respectively, they are happy for any "adventurer" character to use them too.

The white stone narrow labrynth style streets had always been a constant buzz of excitement, pilgrims from major faiths mingled making their way to and from the various places of importance to them. Around those streets vendors of all manner of foods, drinks, exotic spices and other items had sprung up making Jerusalem a vibrant and lively city. Like most cities however it was no stranger to violence and every now and again some pilgrim would get drunk and before you knew it the Sultan of Jerusalem, Izz ud-Din El-Amin, would be forced to make examples. He didn't enjoy doing it but there was no way he would permit People of The Book to turn his city and his beloved home into a warzone. It didn't matter if you were Jewish, Christian or Muslim, all were welcome in his city and all knew to shed blood was to offend the Sultan, and that could be lethal. After one particular incident when a Christian visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre had stabbed a Muslim who had dared question Jesus position as the Son of God the Sultan took steps to quieten things down, first he hung the Christian from the city walls and then he banned the carrying of any weapon into the city. His guards would take the weapons of pilgrims and store them in one of the six gatehouses until they left. It seemed to work and for many years the worst that happened on his streets were a few bloody noses and split lips.

The issue however came when the Sultan's son Hashim fell into the hands of the scholar Bahadur Abdullah, a man who saw his knowledge of Allah as a means to further his own fortune and position. Over the years he was able to earn the trust and confidence of Hashim so that in 1095 when Sultan Izz ud-Din El-Amin the Just died Bahadur was made the new Chief Councillor. Soon much of Hashim's fathers tolerance was gone, harsh taxes were introduced of pilgrims of Christianity and Judaism, all to pay for the protection these pilgrims needed of course. Even many of the Muslims living in the city felt his wrath and those considered to not be following the rules of their faith had property and goods seized, all under the direction of Bahadur who grew fat of the proceeds. In 1096 the Brotherhood of Al-Aqsa, a group of Muslim nobles, rebelled against Hashim, only to be defeated, publically tortured and then thrown from the city walls. When it was discovered that a Catholic monk called Brother Francis had given shelter to the Brotherhoods members he was burnt alive inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, his burnt body left on the door step to rot.

News soon reached the Holy Lands where Christians wept upon hearing the news of the desecration of their beloved Holy Land. All across the Christian world cries went up for action to be taken. In his palace Pope Urban II knew he had to take action and so put pen to paper.

Quote from: Urban's Address

I, or rather the Lord, beseech you as Christ's heralds to publish this everywhere and to perse all people of whatever rank, foot-soldiers and knights, poor and rich, to carry aid promptly to those Christians, such as the beloved Brother Francis of Jerusalem, to destroy that vile Sultan Hashim and drive him from the lands of our friends. I say this to those who are present, it is meant also for those who are absent. Moreover, Christ commands it, go forth from your homes, carry your swords to the Holy Land and restore Christ's glory. All those heeding my call for action will be blessed, be considered free from sin and surely shall assume their rightful place in heaven.

May God Go With You.

Pope Urban II

It was that exact letter that saw six months later Stephen Marriott stood on the shores on Aranye, fresh of the boat from his homeland, on his tattered tunic was the sign of the Order of Mountjoy, an order that had come to his homeland in Scordisci, his bow on his back and a battered old sword on his hip. This would be the staging point and the coastal area was already being established by the Knights of Mountjoy, he recognised several other Orders badges but had little interest in them. He was here for adventure, to make his fortune and grab whatever riches he could. He couldn't care less about this martyr Brother Francis of Jerusalem, a man many were calling a Saint already. As he walked from the Port up towards the citadel where he would enroll officially in the Orders military a weathered old man tried to sell him part of the ashes of Francis pyre, it would bless him apparently, but Stephen supposed some fireplace in a hovel was missing some of its sweepings. He arrived at the citadel and asked to see the Knight Commander, his adventure was about to begin.

Offline RobertAgira

  • Order Of The Pen
  • World Power
  • ****
  • Posts: 546
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: Agira Latina
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #1 on: December 06, 2017, 10:25:18 PM »
It had been four years since Richard Lascelles had landed on the shores of Aranye, he and his two brothers the youngest of six children from a noble family hailing from Ui Cenneslaig. They had realised that back home they stood little chance of making a fortune, their elder brother Thomas was destined to inherit all the families lands and so they must carve out a future for themselves. Their father, also a Thomas, had encouraged them to enter the clergy but that wasn't the way of the Lascelles, they were warriors after all, and so they had sought the permission of the Pope to form a religious order, thus the Order of Mountjoy had come about. They'd provisioned a small fleet of ten boats, equipped a hundred men at arms and fifty archers and made their way to South Aranye. How things had changed in the years that followed. The Order of Mountjoy had grown, it now numbered close to 4,500 capable soldiers drawn from all over Mundus, they had established a series of fortifications on the coast of Aranye which acted as a starting point for those pilgrims making the long overland journey to Jerusalem, the Order ran weekly escorts with around fifty men making the journey with the Pilgrims, they'd even struck a deal with the now deceased Sultan Izz ud-Din El-Amin, that the Order of Mountjoy would stand watch over the Holy Sepulcre, an honour for which the members of the Order competed with heavily, but then things had changed a year ago when Hashim had assumed the title of Sultan, and now the Order had seen the Guards of the Sepulcre executed, vengence was called for and with the Pope now calling for a Crusade the Order was seeing new sails come into the docks on the southern coast almost daily. Some of those boats contained the larger, more fashionable Orders but there was no way they could do their work without Mountjoy keeping the ports in order and blazing the trail across Aranye.

Richard was busy adding the names of the latest inductees of the Order into his ledger, each man would be written down, his name ever recorded as serving God. The front of the book bore now names of the first 100 who came with them, many claimed by disease or battle, in the margin next to his brother Peter's name was the word EXECUTED and everytime Richard updated the book he found himself staring at the details. There was a knock on his rooms door and he closed the book, carefully placing it on his book shelf and opened the door. Legate Alain Beck, a Knight of the Order who was originally from Nemeria stood there, "Knight Commander, we've a new group of recruits coming in, I thought you'd like to inspect them before we assign them quarters."

"Thank you Alain" Richard picked up his sword and fastened it as they walked, "How do they look?" he asked in Latin, the official language of the Order. It was hard for the organisation to function easily, they had people from most nations across Mundus now and it had seen the creation of some "national" units within the Order, Richard spent most of his time with the "Celtic Legion" made up of those from his homeland or places like Seaforth and Kaitaine. Alain meanwhile was part of the "Mundus Legion" made up of those from nations not large enough to sponsor Legions of their own, but for the time being the Nemerian was serving as Richard's aide-de-camp. They had reached the courtyard of the Citadel, as always it was a hive of activity, the Motte and Bailey castle being rapidly replaced with stones being worked by skilled craftsman who had hoped to go and fight but being found wanting now served the Order in other ways.

"Good Morning" Richard greeted the men, very few clearly spoke Latin, that'd be a swift learning experience for them. Each man of the twenty or so before him would be spoken to, given a quick test of their skills and either sent straight into a Legion, given further training or assigned to a non combat role. Richard walked down the line, the first new recruit being no more than a young teenager, "You're still a boy" Richard mused at the youth who came up to no higher than the Celtic man's mid chest. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"To serve God" the boy replied in decent Latin, it surprised Richard as the half starved youngster didn't look like his Latin should be of this standard.

"You're Latin's excellent, how so?" Richard asked again, and noted how the boy looked at his feet before answering, "The truth now, you're in the sight of God." Richard cautioned him.

"I was a novice at a monastery in Marseille, but the Bishop was not a good man.....he didn't serve God as a man of his standing should, so me and my friend Samuel decieded to come here." he shifted uneasily, he had broke his vow to his monastery and hoped that serving the Pope through the Order here would redeem himself.

"And where is your friend now?" Richard enquired, by rights he should have the boy bound and sent back to Marseille as an oath breaker, after all he had broke his word not just to another man but to God, but Richard also knew it was not uncommon for Bishops running monastries to feather their own beds rather than devote themselves to God. The boy seemed genuinely determined to do God's work and Richard wouldn't stand in the way of anyone willing to risk their life for that.

"He died of the fever two months ago as we came here, I buried him myself, I gave him the last rights but I'm not sure I did it right." Richard could see tears in the boys eyes, "Do you think God will forgive him? I promised him I would ask God to forgive him once we take back the Holy Sepulcre. He gave me this to put there" he removed a tatty and dirty envelope from his tunic pocket.

"You can write?" Richard asked.

"Yes Sir" the boy replied proudly, "They taught us at the monastry, I can write Latin, French and some German, I even learnt a little Arabic script" This was a skill Richard could always find use for.

Richard turned to Alain, "Find this boy lodgings, get him a bath, some food and a writing set, I've a new scribe"

"But Sir, I came to fight, to fight for Jerusalem and for God" the boy interupted seeing his chance to reach the Holy Land slipping away after being relegated to a mere scribe, something he could have stayed in Marseille for."

"Oh, you'll fight" Richard had been walking away and now half turned back with a smile. "Your my scribe, where I go you follow, and where I go the Celtic Legion goes, you'll be in the thick of the action young man, so what's your name?" Richard realised he hadn't even asked that yet but somehow felt the boy was the right person for the job he had, keeping an accurate record of he Order's involvement in what was set to become the most significant conflict Mundus had ever known.

"My name is Alexandre Labelle Sir" he said now seemingly happy of his future role.

"Welcome aboard Probationer Labelle" Richard moved down the line, the next man seeming to be another ragged newcomer, they had more and more of these arriving in the last few weeks, most of the willing nobles were already here or more likely had joined the larger, more "glorious"orders, but Mountjoy accepted everyone, they even had a women's section, the Sisterhood of Mountjoy who acted as nurses here in the Citadel, but there were only 16 of them and they kept themselves confined to that wing of the ever expanding settlement here in St.John's City as many called it. This new man was already wearing the Order's tunic, perhaps one of the handful who had signed up back in Ui Cenneslaig where his brother Thomas urged men to go and serve. He had a bow on his back and sword on his hip and so it was fair to surmise he was already proficient in their use. "And you....who are you?" Richard asked the new comer who stood before him.



OOC- If anyone wants a character to be involved rather than a nation's contingent then feel free to have them arrive at the Citadel of St.John and be in the group Richard's inspecting or something.

Offline DaveIronside

  • Roleplay Moderator
  • Global Superpower
  • *****
  • Posts: 2,371
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: East Moreland / Royal Seleucid
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #2 on: December 13, 2017, 10:26:55 PM »
"I'm Stephen Marriott Your Lordship" the archer said bowing his head as he spoke. "I had one of your bretherin come and pass through my village in Scordisci, he was recruiting for the Order and frankly I had nothing keeping me there, and the idea of wiping free my sins was one I couldn't pass up." The man hung his head in shame, he was not really the mostly godly of men, but for some reason here and now in this place he felt ashamed that his main motivation for coming was wealth, another sin he was committing. He'd seen a fair share of battles along with his bow, his right bow fingers bore the callouses of a man who knew his business, be it killing the Cenneg who raided their boarders or taking down the stags that roamed the woods. "You see I've been caught poaching once or twice, and then the bad harvests saw me steal to keep my family alive.....my wife, Mary....she died two years ago when a fever swept through our village, it nearly had me too but with God's grace I'm here to tell the tale, before that our son, Joseph, well....he caught the Bloody Flux, he was only five." Stephen felt tears on his cheek, "I know they'll both be in heaven, and I need to make sure I get there, after my young days I thought signing up was the only way." He thought for a moment or two, "Sadly we got ambushed by brigands about a week ago, six of us coming to the port here, I was the only one who got away I think.....and well I'd like to go to Jerusalem" he sighed happy to have got his story out and hopeful of being accepted.

Offline Arda Tuluva

  • Basically New Zealand
  • **
  • Posts: 124
  • Honor and glory! Death and shame to our enemies!
    • View Profile
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #3 on: December 16, 2017, 01:10:13 PM »
He heard it; they all did, as he climbed the stairs to rafters of the city walls. He saw his fellow countrymen forlornly looking out as the low hypnotic hymn of the enemy solders' dirge washed over them as it harmonized to the melodies of the highest timbre of the ethereal Emulators. With the rising sun he saw them, hundreds of thousands of soldiers emerging from the east. Their song coalesced into a symphony of dread and awe. He found it terrifying, yet beautiful; such was the power of their music, of their presence.

It was them, the Arda Tuluvans and their Armies of the Consolidation that marched ever onward by the Will of their Holy Sovereign, the Axantarimë Emperor. The rumors of the new Empress were true; she had declared the Second Grand Consolidation; to unite all the lands Under Heaven. He remembered his father and others talking that they need not fear the Consolidation; they weren’t Noldori, nor even Arda Tuluvan. He was Nadoan. Like his father and the people of Ebou Dar. But it seemed that the Noldori dominated Great Cúldarë Empire – as they called it. Had their sights further afield. He knew them as the Arda Tuluvan Empire; but that seemed so trivial now. Why had his thoughts gone to such nuances? They wanted Ebou Dar, the city of his birth, which was nestled between the Oron Eluin Mountains to the north and the Oron Aracarin Mountain range to the south. Ebou Dar was the threshold to the rich farm lands of the Nandorin basin.

He wanted to ask a soldier why they had not seen this coming. But, he knew the answer: the forward scouts must have encountered the Arda Tuluvans and were slaughtered before they had yet to return to the city. He remembered the panic from his father when hearing the scouts had not returned at dawn, precautions were made and many of the farmers and villagers had taken what they could retreating behind the protection of the Ebou Dar’s giant, sturdy walls.

From the rafters atop the city’s high walls he saw the Golden Banners of the Great Cúldarë, the formation of the Empire’s elite Mahtari soldiers. He had heard the stories from refugees and travelers about the Mahtari. An entire caste in Arda Tuluva dedicated solely to war, to their masters’ dreams of unifying all Under Heaven. It was said that from birth they were taught nothing but duty, obedience, and war.

He was in terrible awe at the sight of the thousands of soldiers, their siege weapons; which were a design he’d never seen, nor read about before. The Emulators’ song washed over him as his knees began to buckle. Then silence. The Ever-Victorious Army – as they called it, never having lost a war - stood unflinching below just beyond the rage of even the most trained Ebou Dari archer.

The Army did not approach. Instead they remained giving needed time to get the rest of the villagers into the city. The soldier to his right muttered something about honor and respect. But he couldn’t quite tell if the man was genuine or not. It was then he saw a tent being erected between the city gate and the Army, as the rear soldiers moved fanning out to surround the city.

An hour went by, maybe two or more. The Sun hung high in the sky now. He gulped as a hand pressed against his shoulder, “It is time.” He turned to see his father, the King. He nodded to him, his father showed no fear, only determination it renewed his own spirits. His hope.



Descending the stairs they were met in the courtyard by the Archbishop, and by the General, leader of their armies. How could they stand against that? He wondered. 

“My King.” The withered soldier said.

“Majesty.” The old priest bowed his head.

The King mounted his horse, followed by the General, the Archbishop, a plump man in fine purple robes, had to be hoisted atop his horse. “No, son.” The King said before the boy could mount his own horse, “Remain here.” He nodded, not wanting to protest in front of his father’s subject.


They rode out soon as the gates were opened. He watched as they approached the tent cautiously. He couldn’t see much from this distance, but the Arda Tuluvans had given the King a seat and drink. They talked for some time before the Nadoans returned. The King’s face was ashen and he didn’t need to ask how the negotiations went.

The King of Ebou Dar jumped from his horse handing his ministers a yellow scroll. They gasped reading it, then handing it to the next. Finally the King’s son was able to see what was inscribed:

“Unto the King and the People of Ebou Dar.

By Will of Heaven these lands rightfully belong to the Great Cúldarë; sovereigns of All Under Heaven. The City of Ebou Dar shall submit to the Phoenix Throne. The King shall present himself in Armenelos to bow before the Throne.

The People of Ebou Dar shall renounce the vile blasphemy as followers of the false god and heretic known as the Christ. To this end, the people shall show dedication and penance to the Axantarimë Empress, the King is commanded to hang the Christian priests from the walls of the City.

Failure to obey shall result in the razing of Ebou Dar, it shall be struck from history. The Nadoan people shall cleansed from this land.

So let it be written.”




The gates were shut and barricaded, soldiers prepared for the siege and the battle. It was high past noon now. No song came from the Arda Tuluvans. No-one spoke in Ebou Dar. Only the soft shrill of a hawk could be heard. The boy stood atop the wall, again, looking out at the Ever-Victorious Army.

Those massive siege weapons were moved before the Mahtari soldiers, three dozen massive wooden weapons: they had a large arm that was pulled down which was attached to a massive counterweight on the opposite side. It was released; a flaming ball was thrown out lobbed high into the air as it arched towards the city. It hit the ground with a fiery explosion a hundred or so paces from the walls. The Ebou Dari soldiers began to laugh at their enemies’ failure. A jest they’d soon regret.

The Arda Tuluvans began shouting at each other as more weights were added to the buckets. The arm was slowly pulled down. Another fiery ball was thrown into the air, this time much higher as it arched. He knew it would go beyond the wall as he watched it sore, almost majestically, above him before crashing, exploding into a building, crumbling ablaze. Then the others. All of them. The arms were pulled down. One. Two. Eight. Twenty. He lost count as the fiery balls hurled into the city, onto and against walls. He ran from the rafters back to the safety – oh he prayed to God the castle would be safe.

He was with his mother and sisters now; praying to God, the Virgin, and all the Saints for salvation, for deliverance. It had gone on for hours, a continuing barrage of fire. Even from within the castle he heard the screams of people dying, burning. The sounds of explosions, of a raging fire. He knew then that the Arda Tuluvans had no intention of conquering the city, but of obliterating it.

Then it stopped. He left the safety of the sanctuary, much to the protest of his mother, and found his father on a balcony. Fear, sadness, filled his eyes now. His face was no longer full of determination, but of regret as he watched his beloved city burn mumbling futile prayers with his rosary. He made no intention to speak with his father, the King. He, too, stood there watching the horrors before him.

The fires raged all night, the people tried to contain it, snuff it out. But to no avail, it was everywhere. By dawn most of the city was cinder and ashes. It was then a new song could be heard from the Arda Tuluvans. He trembled at the sound. This wasn’t a song of war, nor of inspiration. It was a Song of Death. And it began anew. He saw the hurling fire reigning down on them. Falling to his knees, tears in his eyes he begged God to slaughter the enemies of Christ! To bring a plague on them!

For three days this continued. The entire city was in ashes and rubble. Parts of the walls had collapsed, the gate had fallen. Yet, the Armies of the Consolidation did not advance. They did not storm the city. It was on the fourth day everything changed. The day the Arda Tuluvans did not barrage the city at dawn. “My King! My King!” A soldier came running into the sanctuary of the Castle.

“What is it, solider?”

He saluted quickly, “A message from High General Fanyáremótar. She wishes to discuss terms! Praise be to God!”

He nodded, “Good. Good.” He looked at his son. “Our people are saved.” Turning to his wife, son, and daughters, “We must be strong in Christ, this will be our greatest test from God.”

The Archbishop raised his hands in the sign of the cross as those assembled genuflected, reciting the Lord’s prayer.

“My King.” The solider said again, “There are stipulations….”

Most of the citizens of the city had taken refuge in the catacombs, or were offered sanctuary in the castle’s underground. Of the 300,000 or so people who inhabited Ebou Dar only about 10,000 survived the onslaught. The entirety of the city was ash and ruble. Only the castle and cathedral still stood, almost defiantly so.

The priests, monks, and nuns were taken away as the men, women, and children under twelve were separated into three groups. The Arda Tuluvan soldiers surrounded each section.

“The Mercy of the Axantarimë Emperor is infinite.” An Arda Tuluvan official who had, not five days ago, read the terms of their surrender. “Yet, the King of Ebou Dar defied Her infallible will. Thus these blasphemers, spreaders of lies, orators of deceit and guile shall be put to death. For their crimes of spreading and teaching the heresy of Christianity, they shall be executed in the same manner as your false Messiah. Crucifixion.”

It has taken most of the afternoon to crucify the priests, monks, and nuns. Men and women wept as they saw their friends and family dying on crosses powerless to do anything. Fatigue, hunger, and most of all fear gripped the people of Ebou Dar.

It was then that High General Vánamírë Fanyáremótar a top her white horse in her ornate red armor approached the Ebou Dari women, “For I am a merciful woman and I shall give you much needed respite.” She paused smiling down at them as food and water was placed in front of them. Gesturing the women approached to quench their much needed thrust and satiate their hunger, a tinge of hope washed over their faces.

“Yet a greater boon I have for you all, oh Christian women. The greatest of them all: I shall make martyrs of you all.” She gestured to the soldiers who began stabbing the women with their spears, some tried to flee. There was panic. But the Mahtari soldiers were more than efficient at quelling them.


She galloped towards the group of men, who eyed her with furry and anger. She smiled at them, unfazed by their hatred. She looked to her soldiers, speaking clearly, “I am merciful and as gift to your heretic pope you shall be sent to your vile holy land to die for your heathen god against the other infidels.”

Before she galloped away, she turned back to them with a wicked smile. Speaking her soldiers, “The men shall all be castrated so that they can no longer produce and spread the abomination that is Christianity.”

The last group, the children. She said, “The children shall be sent to Vinyamar through the Orcerumë Desert and over the Oronruan Mountains. Those that survive shall be indoctrinated into the Mahtari caste. For this is the Will of the Great and Holy Axantarimë Emperor – might she live forever. So let it done.”



“You’ve had a fever.” An old man said. His face still hurt from the Chi-Roh scar the Arda Tuluvans had branded on his face. It seemed castration wasn’t enough for those bastards. “You’ve been in and out for weeks. I was afraid the Prince would not survive.”

“Prince. Puh.” He felt nauseous, was he on a ship? “A prince of what? Of ruin and ash?”

The man laughed, “I was told by many of your people to keep you alive. They told me: ‘the Prince must not die.’ Hah.” He laughed again, “Must not die, or what? They tried to threaten me! Ridiculous.” He handed him a bowl, “Drink this Young Princling. It will calm your fever.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then by what title?”

“Title!? I lost that when I lost…” He gestured downwards.

The old man burst out laughing, “I have met many eunuchs, but none so humorous. Then what shall you be called?”

“Naimandë.” The boy said after a long pause.

Ill-fated.” The man gave him a quizzical look, “Hah, humorous indeed. By the way, they call me Ehtelë.”

Naimandë took the bowl and drank the disgusting tonic. “How many of us are there?”

“When we were…. requested… to ferry you across the seas of Alucard and Kyne we had about 4,000 of you lot. Well 4,102 to be precise. We lost two ships in a storm within two days. You took a beam to the head. Almost killed you. Your wound opened again when you fell out of your bed in a fever dream. Ill-fated, indeed.”

“The question. Answer it.”

“I tend to babble.” The old man chuckled to himself, “Some died of fever, which spread. Others refused to eat, so they were thrown overboard. A mutiny caused us to scuttle a ship with some 800 aboard.” He tapped his chin thinking, “Maybe 1500 left. The Throne better compensate us for this. Three ships, of five! This excursion. Ill-fated, indeed. You are a determined bunch, I will I give you that. But, do you not wish to see the land your god is from?”

Another boy, around his own age of sixteen, groaned from another bed. “Give him no mind.” Ehtelë said, who seemed to be attending not only Naimandë, but several others as well, “He is just complaining. He is not even wounded. His brand healed well enough.”

“Who is he?” Naimandë inquired, he was sitting up now finally gauging his surroundings as the ship rocked back and forth.

“Another Christian the Throne has kindly gifted to this grand enterprise of yours.” The old man eyed the other boy, “It seems he once was of the High Blood.” He scoffed, “Such high ranking and now he is even lower than me. An Únótimari now, as you all are, when the Empire gave you that brand.”

He looked at Ehtelë inquisitively, “There was a great purge in the Empire.” The old man responded to unasked question. “It appeared that the Empress – might she live forever – does not have a liking to the people of your faith and has rid the Empire of your kind.”

Naimandë said a silent prayer to the martyrs who died for their faith across the whole of Arda Tuluva. He cursed the Empress – might she die! – he thought.

“Get some rest, my boy.” Ehtelë said patting him on the shoulder, “You will need it for the days to come.” For a Noldori this man was kind, Naimandë thought, but then he noticed the faded tattoos on the old man’s hands, a Hildari – the priestly caste, he would be obliged to see to their health and needs, even though he was now an ‘undesirable.’ He knew he shouldn’t judge an entire people just for the actions of a few. But he couldn’t help but hate them all. He closed his eyes with the thought that God is just, and their retribution will come.


In the next few days Naimandë walked around the large rectangular ship with its trademarked red ribbed sails. He recognized some of the men as soldiers and merchants from Ebou Dar. He had been approached by one who said that he had been talking to the men, and they had selected Naimandë as their leader. He did not want it, but he remembered one of the last things his father had said to him: “We must be strong in Christ, this will be our greatest test from God.”

The pompous former High Blood, who apparently was forced to take the name Helcilo Únessendil “the Forsaken Unfilial Son,” had assumed command – without protest - of the remaining Noldori. Naimandë and Helcilo eyed each other with suspicion, rarely talking. The now downtrodden Noble thought himself too high to speak with someone so low, it seems the Noldori had a hard time accepting his new position.

It was the following day that the three Arda Tuluvan ships arrived at the port of St. John. The captain and leader of the Noldori ships descended with a squirrely looking clerk who explained – in Latin – to the Harbor Master that the Phoenix Throne has a gift for the Christians in their crusade against the infidels. The 1,484 men from ages of about fourteen to sixty each with the Chi-Roh branded on their right cheeks were lined up. As crates were unloaded containing weapons and armor looted from Ebou Dar before the city was razed to the ground.

The Noldori ships sold other supplies and bought some more and would leave in the coming days. Naimandë, along with many of the Nadoans, spoke Latin proficiently enough. While very few of the Noldori did. Helcilo’s Latin was awful; besides the prayers he memorized, he couldn’t say much.

Naimandë and Helcilo took the lead in their march towards the Citadel, where they were told to go, just behind the squirrelly Noldori clerk – who was being carried in a sedan chair – and accompanied by a few guards. Once they all reached the Citadel he turned to the former High Blood and Pricne, “My duty is complete. I have brought the heretics to the Citadel of Saint John on this the twenty-sixth day of Hrívë in the Eight Year of the Most Holy Axantarimë.”

He handed three large scrolls to Naimandë before he departed. Looking at the scrolls it was a list of every man’s name and an inventory of their equipment. The two leaders told their men to remain here and go through their supplies as they entered the Citadel to inscribe their names into the Order of Mountjoy.
« Last Edit: December 17, 2017, 02:45:46 PM by Arda Tuluva »

Online Achkaerin

  • Lord Chief Justice
  • Global Superpower
  • *****
  • Posts: 3,967
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: the Holy Empire of Achkaerin
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #4 on: December 18, 2017, 06:10:27 PM »
Nothing that suffers can pass without merit in the sight of God, the words echoed through the mind of Sir William Aragon of the Knights of Sanctus Ignis, an order hailing from Aquitaine where Christianity had a great presence, compared to their neighbors in Marseilles who worshiped a Pagan Goddess. William felt the ship he was in sway from side to side as the vessel navigated its way towards Mountjoy. His order wasn't the biggest but he had around five hundred men ready and willing to save their long suffering Holy Land. For him personally this was a chance at something special, he was the youngest of three sons, as far as his family's heraldry went he stood to inherit nothing in the way of title, which meant staying at home would be condemning his wife and son to a life that they deserved better than, so here he was leading some of the order into what hoped was a change of fortunes not just for the Holy Land but for him as well on a personal level.

"Sir William." his trusted second in command Sir Geoffrey said "We have arrived in Mountjoy." it was only then that William noticed that the boat was no longer swaying.
"Disembark, load everything up." William said "Buy whatever additional food and supplies we need, we have a long road ahead of us."
"Yes Sir." Geoffrey said

Stepping from the ship William walked a few metres, starting to help his men organize things for the next stage of their journey. It would take them a while to be ready but they would move when they were ready. Little did William know what his decision to come on this adventure would mean centuries later for his family.

Offline RobertAgira

  • Order Of The Pen
  • World Power
  • ****
  • Posts: 546
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: Agira Latina
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #5 on: December 19, 2017, 11:37:36 AM »
OOC- Just a heads up the original Crusader Army featured around 35-50,000 soldiers. 200,000 from just one faction is extremely high.

Offline Libby

  • Order Of The Pen
  • Global Superpower
  • *****
  • Posts: 1,062
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: Lodja/Kaitaine
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #6 on: December 27, 2017, 10:44:09 PM »
Branwen Lennox sat nervously on the edge of the bed, it was the first time she'd been inside one of the Honored Matres chambers and she was marvelling at its decor, portraits and tapestries done showing great heroes of the Bene Gesserit past adorned its walls. The bed was much larger and more comfortable than those back in the girls dorms where just two hours earlier she had been mending a shirt belonging to her friend, a Truthsayer known as Adele. The pair had joined the Sisterhood on the same day back when they were just four years old and now 12 years later their paths had diverged, Adele was training with sword and lance, she'd be a Knight within the Truthsayers, meanwhile Branwen had missed out on that position due to her inability to master the use of the bow. As such she was made into an Honored Matres, someone destined to help pass on the blood of the Holy Houses, while it wasn't her dream role within the Bene Gesserit she knew it was everybit as important as carrying a sword in protection of her fellow sisters. Reverned Mother Emilia had selected her to be bedded by Lord Henry Corinno, a man in his forties but still a viral and handsome as they came. He currently had five children with his wife, a former Missionara Protectiva called Abigail, but he'd fathered at least ten others by various Honored Matres, now Branwen hoped to be the eleventh. She was nervous not just because of the identity of the man she was expecting, but also because this was to be her first time, of course her fellow sisters, some of whom had birthed four or five children, had warned her and advised her, and even as part of the training she'd watched from secret hiding holes as other Honored Matres had joined with other nobles, the memory of that made her shudder, would someone be watching as she and Lord Henry rutted. She doubted it, what could a girl learn from her she wasn't experienced, she wasn't even sure if  Lord Henry would like her. She stood out from the other Honored Matres, most of them were slim, small girls with pretty smiles, Branwen however stood a good head higher than most of them and had rather broad shoulders, developed from hours of trying and failing to perfect the bow. The Mother's and Missionara though were sure she'd been blessed with great potential by God/Gods and as such had insisted the Reverened Mother make this match.

The door handle turned making Branwen jump as the heavy metal scraped, she wondered if she should remove her red tunic, allowing his first sight of her to be her pale naked body, in a split second she ruled that out and stood nervously playing with her flame red hair. She lowered her eyes to the floor as the door swung open. "Lord Henry I'm....." she began before a voice cut her off.

"I'm afraid Lord Henry will not be joining you." It was a senior Honored Matres, Gaynor Reynolds, currently pregnant by one of the Atreides clan. "It would appear he has taken a shine to Rebecca and well, he's rather spent." Gaynor chuckled, it made Branwen angry however, she'd nervously prepared all day fearing the pain losing her virginity would bring if the rumours she'd heard were true. Instead of saying anything she stood and left the bed chamber to make her way back to the dorm. As she passed one of the other rooms however something grabbed her attention, a familiar voice, that of Lord Henry in mid throws of passion with the Reverned Mother, Branwen lingered by the door listening to the two familiar voices. It was the Reverned Mother's voice that disturbed her, the Mother's were supposed to be celebate while in service and the fact that she had taken what Branwen viewed as her right made the young Honored Matres blood boil.

"Don't have me paired with that Branwen child again" Henry's voice came through the door, "She's an awkward looking creature, shoulders wider than my sons, she'd rip me apart the beast." the pair chuckled and Branwen, who knew she wasn't a pretty girl, felt tears in her eyes.

"We only kept her here because her father smiths for the Truthsayers, it was him who pushed for the pairing" the Reverned Mother replied exaserbating Branwen's state. She considered yelling at them but figured that would achieve nothing and so instead stopped eavesdropping and made her way back to the dorm, without a word to anyone she gathered some clothing, her crystknife and what valuables she had. No one paid any attention to her as she left the dorm, Honored Matres where often allowed to visit family and so everyone assumed she was going to go and see her father or something. Instead she made her way down to the Truthsayers armoury and giving an excuse of picking up something for her father gathered a sword, a small shield and a dagger. Next she sat down in the Chapterhouse courtyard waiting for it to empty, something that in the dusk didn't take long. She looked through the stables selecting a grey stallion and then headed out at a trot.

It took her two days to reach the port of Geidi, by which time she'd shorn her long flaming locks short, she'd acquired a pair of leather breeches and had trimmed her red Honored Matres tunic into one resembling that of a knight. She wanted to prove herself to the Sisterhood, that she could be a Truthsayer, something she felt even more than ever was her true calling, and beside she'd heard the Missionara talk about the things they could find in Jerusalem, just none of them had ever been, she would be the first, or rather Bran Lennox, a squire whose cowardly master refused the calling of Christ and so had forced the young man to come alone to serve the Lord.

It took her two weeks to reach the Citadel of St.John, and now she saw a whole host of people marching up the hill, she trotted her horse alongside the path joining them as they sought to join the Order of Mountjoy. She'd witnessed the seemingly prisoners from Arda Tuvulu be handed over to the Knight Commander and so now made her way over, sliding expertly off the horse and kneeling before him herself. "My Lord, I wish to serve the Order, I wish to die in Jerusalem if it is Gods will." 

Offline RobertAgira

  • Order Of The Pen
  • World Power
  • ****
  • Posts: 546
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: Agira Latina
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #7 on: January 04, 2018, 10:35:15 PM »
Richard Lascelles listened carefully to Stephen's story, it wasn't exactly an uncommon one that of a man who had lost everything and now hoped that serving an Order would see them redeem themselves and be united with loved ones. "Stephen I'm assigning you to the archers, it seems that would be your choice" he motioned to the bow that the man was carrying, "Sign up with the Celtic Legion, they'll see you right" he pointed over to one of several tables that members of the Order sat at, each responsible for one of the Orders many Legions. No sooner had Stephen headed off to sign up for the Celtic Legion than a fanfare announced the arrival of the  Arda Tuluvan horde, it was not a nation Richard was familiar with.

He watched as line after line of Tuluvan's entered, Richard made his way down to the courtyard of the Citadel, barely able to hold the total number, he found someone who was seemingly in command and after a conversation in various Latin phrases managed to get him to wait on the muster field outside. "Take them food and drink, and some of the Sisters to tend to them, they look like they could do with a good feed" Richard ordered his aides as he made his way back inside.

While Richard was waiting for his people to go and look after the arrivals from Arda Tuluva he noticed Cardinal-Grand Master Landry arrive, he was well aware of the man's Order and its involvement with the impending Crusade, the two orders had existed side by side with some elements of friendly rivalry which occasionally in the taverns had turned into fisticuffs. "Welcome back to the Citadel" Richard welcomed him. "We intend to finish registering these souls then head North, I assume you'll be marching alongside us?" He asked, his biggest concern at the moment however was how he'd deal with the mass arrival of the Tuluvan's, if each of them was accepted it would add a whole new Legion to the Order, but he wasn't so sure about their ability to serve alongside the rest of the Order who had trained together for months, there would also be the cultural issues, he knew little of the Tuluvan way of war.

As Richard was about to make his way outside to the Muster field a solo traveller arrived, they had their own armour and sword and clearly knew how to ride a horse, that was promising. He wasn't a fan of people talking about dying for the Order, he believed that if he was to take people into battle he should at least give them a better than evens chance of walking away, in his mind a dead Orderman was someone who couldn't spread the faith. "Get up boy" he lifted the youth to their feet, "I'd actually prefer you to serve the Order by not getting yourself killed, a dead Christian is one that can't spread the word of the Lord. So I need to find you a Legion, where you from and what's your name?" he asked motioning for Lennox to walk with him. He made his way outside and looked over the Musterfield where Nuns of the Order where now distributing food, bottles of wine and water as well as checking some of the more feeble looking of them. "WHO IS IN CHARGE?" he yelled over the field, "Come here" he waved hopeful that just one person would appear and he could find out what the hell was going on. Once he'd established which of the Tuluvan's was in charge he asked, "So can you explain what your intentions are and what the Order can do?" 


Offline Arda Tuluva

  • Basically New Zealand
  • **
  • Posts: 124
  • Honor and glory! Death and shame to our enemies!
    • View Profile
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #8 on: January 14, 2018, 04:59:34 PM »
“Greetings, My Lord. I am called Naimandë.” He bowed politely, although accented his Latin was fluent. “This is Helcilo Únessendil.” He gestured to the other man, who stood with excellent posture, determined to remain proud despite his circumstances. “We are the leaders of our people.”

“We are exiles, banished from our homes for our faith in Christ.” Naimandë continued, explaining their story. “The tyrannical empress commanded a great purge and many of our brothers and sisters were martyred.” He made the sign of the cross for the fallen faithful.  “We have no home, My Lord. Many of us can no longer have children; our names – such as they are – will die with us. We have only our faith in Christ and our determination to answer God’s calling to see the Holy Land saved from the infidels.”

“And the Edict?” Helcilo said in Quenya. Naimandë rolled his eyes at the Noldori’s request, ”You must hand it to them! It is an Edict from the Empress – might she live forever.

Naimandë swatted Helcilo’s hand before he could make the gesture to bless the empress, ”You still honor that abhorrent woman? After everything?”

The former Noldori High Blood looked sternly at Naimandë holding his hand out waiting, haughtily, to be handed the Edict. With a deep sigh and no further protest Naimandë gave it over to Helcilo. Taking the scroll in both hands he fell to his knees presenting it to Richard Lascelles, in very broken Latin he said, "Edict from Emperor.  Take."

The Edict was written in both Quenya and Latin:

Quote
Unto the Christians of the North, the Order of Mountjoy;

By the Divine Will of Her Most Holy and August Majesty, the Axantarimë Emperor, The Daughter of Heaven, Sovereign of the Great Cúldarë, She Who Sits Above All Thrones, The Authority of All, The Resolute, The Consolidator, Blessed and Sacred bequeaths upon the Grand Christian Enterprise a generous gift.

The gift of these men, your brothers in Christ; who have forsaken the Great Cúldarë and turned asunder the rituals and regulations that govern our world and protect the Empire from calamity, for they have no place in the order and tranquility of the Middle Kingdom. Take them into the Fold so that they may die in the endeavor to reclaim lands lost to infidels.

The men will fight valiantly knowing they shall meet their families once more in the Hereafter. For Our Imperial generosity knows no bounds! Know that We have given their families the greatest honor that the Christian cherishes: martyrdom.

May your Enterprise know success. Remember always the great generosity of the blessed Phoenix Throne.

So let it be written.

Offline The Young Pope

  • Global Superpower
  • *****
  • Posts: 1,346
    • View Profile
  • Your Nation: Republic of Québec
Re: Crusades V.1 IC
« Reply #9 on: January 21, 2018, 11:31:02 AM »
 OOC: This post is part of rebooting my character as I want to make the Mountjoy's the sole important order in this RP as well as making Landry more of a humble character. Consider this as two posts in one as I'll also continue after Richard's chat.



The sound of the waves crashing into the ships as they were sailing to southern Aranye in preparation for the reconquest of the Holy Land, couldn't overpower the intense and loud prayers onboard conducted by the accompanying clergy...this was the Ecclesiastical Army of Christ, numbering a stackering total of 20,000 men being transported onboard 125 Hulks, a large number of that era - it was commanded by the highly reputable and esteemed Cardinal Landry du Lauzon. Landry was born as an Orphan, no one including himself, knew who his parents were, as he was found on the doorsteps of a Benedictine monastery; Landry grew up among the monks, experiencing Ora et Labora/Prayer and Work daily although it turned him into a diligent, hardworking Christian lad who gained valuable experience which were to become handy in time. As Christian boy grew into a young man, he climbed high in the ranks of the priesthood, managing a small yet loving parish of his own called Lauzon. Eventually he became not only the Bishop and Archbishop of Lauzon but also a member of the prestigious Cardinals/Princes of the Churches which ultimately boosted his career due to his piety and display of Christian virtues towards all classes, from the lowliest peasant to the richest of the nobbility.

He was remarkably suited to the job: genuinely holy and friendly, Landry was a rare priest indeed for refusing to take part in the widespread plague known as corruption of the church during this time, instead dedicating himself to God and combatting the corruption to its fullest with the help of his holiness Pope Urban II. Every time he heard or saw of it, his body and soul was aching of pain and grief as he begged forgiveness to his lord, using the same exact words as their Messiah once uttered as he lay dying in such an excruciating pain, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing".

Urban II's call for crusade electrified this holy man. He immediately set out to raise an army with the intent of liberating Jerusalem from those Satanic Muhameddin Dogs, killing innocent Christians and Jews as well as their own kind, before finally descecrating the holiest of sites. He found the job very easy: zealots from across the Ecclesiastical State and neighbouring countries flocked to the good cardinal for the chance of salvation through arms. Most were simple people: peasants, city folk, wandering traders, beggars. The cardinal ensured they were armed, even if simply. Crossbows were issued and those lucky few trained in the use of these weapons. Simple helmets were rushed into the army, ensuring at least one area of protection. Although there were also sizable contingens of Men-at-Arms who were better trained and equipped, Knights of various orders and creeds with their accompanying liege lords; most of whom gave up on everything including land set off like everyone else to redeem themselves and reclaim Jerusalem for the righteous, although there was a small minority who only cared for trying to squander off more land, much to the disgust of Landry and several of his companions.

His holiness Pope Urban II gave a large portion of his Knights of the Papal Household as personal bodyguards as well as extra combat men; they were known and were among the mightiest cavalry in the Old Mundus despite being few in number, literally living saints infused with the power of their patron God and the Virgin herself according to those who witnessed them, as one shabby peasant described one of them in his own words: "He seemed like an immortal, divine paladin, a faultless living legend, and strength majesty and faith radiated from him like the heat from an inferno.". These knights weren't only highly trained but also equipped with the finest weapons, armor and horses known to mere mortals, personally funded by the Pope. These were the sorts of ultimate warriors that were fanatical and would rather fight to the death rather than capitulating in expected defeat, upholding the Code of Chivalry to the fullest (even reaching an extreme point where some knights would rather ignore enemies that they would consider to be weaker than themselves) aside form being faithful Christians.

In order to coordinate this crusade as the most efficent, the Pope advised him to meet the Knight Commander of the Holy Order of Mountjoy, another prominent order who'd attracted quite the amount of recruits during these past few years. Stepping from the ship, with a few trusted Grail Companions and wearing his custom-made armor that would preserve his cardinal outfit while offering superb protection, Cardinal-Archbishop Landry made his way to the top of the Citadel where the Mountjoy brotherhood was busy signing new peeps for the upcoming reconquest of the holy city. "Grand Master Richard Lascelles...How on God's Green Mundus are you doing hehe? Great to see you!" He gave Lascalles a hug since he considered him to be a good and close friend, with their orders having cooperated before with other quests and issues.



"Of course, the Holy Father has *chuckles* also asked me to be his personal inspector to ensure that the men aren't shaming themselves in front of our God but with you in charge, I don't think there will be any issues at all. Since I last spoke to him before I left...he seemed to be in his worser days, that echoing cough of his is still holding tight in my mind, I fear he won't last long but at the very least he should hear the news when we finally reconquer Jerusalem. In any case we can talk more in a few hours time after the introcutionary mass in which I'll conduct, before that I would need to make my inspection round and fulfill parts of the promise the holy father bestowed upon me."

It was when Landry looked from left and right while revealing a parchment of some sorts. "After mass I would like to also speak with you, in private...something which his holiness also requires to be fulfilled and believes would glorify your order much further. This parchment will exactly reveal what he has in mind." he ended with a smile, tapping on Richard's shoulder before exiting the citadell to make his introductionary round of inspection and prepare for the evening mass. As he went outside to be met by a stream of Christians from all over Mundus, many made their respects and greeted him enthusiastically; Cardinal Landry was an inspiration to all, especially among the poorer classes considering his humble beginnings led to greater heights and the fact that he deeply cared for everyone with his encompassing charity, erecting sites of education, churches among the numerous deeds he had performed thoughout his life. "Please my brothers and sisters, no need to kiss the ground for my sake...do it for your own eternal Lord and Saviour..." he reminded them. A multifaced man, he was well-versed in theology, canon law, philosophy, history and cultural patrimony of the Church, missiology, social sciences, spirituality and psychology.

The Holy Order of Mountjoy was among his favorites, truly one of the most honorable that ever existed throughout his lifetime and he had made many friends within that order and likewise did they appreciate Landry's presence and company. With the special mission the holy father wanted them to perform as well, he felt a bit worried that it could go catastrophically wrong and cost unnecessary lives, even argued against his holiness at one point, although in the end the most important thing wasn't to doubt; if one showed doubt Evil would triumph once more, there could be nothing the that the wicked could use against them and that was importantly fear and lack of duty towards the Mother Church.

After some time of getting to know a few of the thousands who've taken up arms for Christ across the entiew camp area, Cardinal Landry stumbled upon Grandmaster Lascalles who welcomed the leaders of the Arda Tuluvan exiles; fluent in Quenya, he took initiative to talk to them after he read the Imperial edict. "On behalf of is holiness, I'm deeply mournful about what has happened to our brothers and sisters of Christ in Arda Tuluva, what greater evil has managed to seduce and sucumb the Empress and make her commit these crimes is only a guess we can take...rest assured that you have at least a new home for the time being; these Knights of Mountjoy will see to it that you're properly well-fed and well-prepared for the eventual reconquest of the Holy Land and City...Oh where are my manners, I'm Cardinal Landry du Lauzon and here by I do welcome you...if there's anything I can do for your people, let me know..."

« Last Edit: June 04, 2018, 12:45:39 PM by The Young Pope »