- "Canif Wolfsword"
- c. 1030 - Present
- Sic Semper Tyrannis - Thus always to tyrants.
- Catholic Military Order
- The City of Eclipse
- Knights of Eclipse
Another dawn. With this you have been at sea for 5 days after the vicious storm, leaving your ship to mere fractures of its former glory you can’t feel your arms and fingers anymore as they grip the barrel that saved you.
You can count the nights still but you can’t count the wrinkles in your skin and the cracks on your lips as a seemingly permanent trembling shiver was caused by the cold water.
This is what you get for challenging the Gods, swearing to reach the edge of the world someday.
You set sail on the first days of the New Age, hoping for God to be gracious to you and grant you a swift and safe voyage.
You thought you could sail better than anyone, fight better than anyone, only now realizing how much of a fool you were. Your leader decided to have you in the crew even when you only have a few summers at sea under your belt.
An honest mistake, his mistake.
Emboldened youth calls for doom more often than not, especially on a trading ship sailing from Acre, especially after mead gets involved.
That’s when you damned yourself.
You boasted about the trade, you boasted about your prowess, you boasted about the best value for trade in ages and the tested your luck. Everyone was drunk and cheerful, carrying you on their shoulders and laughing heartily, until you swore.
You swore you would reach the end of the world, by God you would conquer this sea and show you were no mere mortal.
Then the storm built up.
The ship was struck by waves, before clouds were even near its position, waves as tall as the mast would made them appear as they vanished and were created from thin air it seemed. Everyone was too busy with their gold, their valuable coin to take care of the leaks. The pumps were left empty, too long. Causing the ship to batter harder and harder into the waves that chipped its core with the might of the Lord. A quick realization was made, you don’t test your fate, you don’t put his name in vain. For it is he who created the world, who shaped the sea and who gave you the life you now longed back for.
You realize your foolishness and stupidity, you realize how petty you have been and you pray, as you see your fingers give up through the salt that crystallized on your eyelashes and your grip loosens from barrel that kept you afloat until now.
Not far from the last known location of the trading vessel, land was on the horizon. Was this the Promised Land that had been foretold in taverns? A good fortune on such a bad and miserable day? You swim to shore, only to be greeted by the remainders of broken wooden shields. A pair of broken axes. The remainders of war... Here, on these unknown lands? We’re they occupied after all?
A faded and broken shield showed signs of heavy blows. Showing merely a few strips of paint left from the wear and tear the combination of sea and sand had battered the left overs with. Not far from your first walk, merely rubbing the salt crystals from your eyelashes you were greeted by black and red banners. Waving in the wind as riders approached you at high speed maneuvers. Circling you at first, as the beats of your heart rapidly joined up with the pounding of the hooves that trotted around you. The knights armored and armed as they stopped a few feet in front of your scarcely dressed body.
The situation providing a nerve wrecking moment of silence before one of the men switched up his visor showing the visuals of a beard. Rough, yet braided while one of his pauldron’s clashed against the shoulder of his breastplate as his vambrace’d arm reached into a sack located on his brown panting horse. The arm quickly threw a scroll in front of your posture, your questioned face remained for the time.
Troubling your head with questions of religion, names and even ancestry. Who were these knights, these riders clad in plate armor wielding colors of some sort of house. More questions arose which piled up with the remaining. Your knees cave lightly as you bended forward to pick up the scroll the rider with his visor switched up had thrown at you and opened it to read a loudly.
We decided to have a semi-hardcore structure inside the guild. Meaning that, for us, we give everything when playing but will not make it effect our personal real life. This means that work comes first, and we remember that this is a game in the end. We are here to have fun. Our RP means that we, for us, do not enforce it but heavily encourage it. We will be caught talking out of character to people by the use of brackets and our characters are not a representation of our real life counter part. Thus being a dick in game will not mean you will meet the most horrible, sadistic and overal bitter person in Discord. In matter of fact, we have quite the hoot in there! Most if not some of our members come from a long history of Roleplay and therefor are experienced with different terms like for example Meta-gaming. Something we do not encourage though some occassions are simply not avoidable. We are from different parts of the world, meaning we operate internationally and different kinds of people are online on different kinds of time. We require all our members to have microphones. For anymore questions - check out our discord for contact and more information.
Traders, Diplomats or Knaves.