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St. Tirodore the Vanguard of Falaisia

Tirodore’s story started simple and mundane. left to the care of the church from a young age, he grew up in lay service first to the church, then the Templar. His unit had spent many seasons on and off the border with the Badlands of Korm, with battle a common thing. Even in the common the unexpected can happen when an ambush took out the Command tent, the entire unit was forced back.
In there retreat Tirodores army got routed into a likewise leaderless unit of the Order of the Dragon, who had recently had a Pyrrhic victory against an Orc war band. Both where in chaos as their paths crossed, with the Sha’ra forces marching endlessly towards them. Arrows rained down and men of the empire died, every one around Tirodore, one of those deaths was a standard bearer of the Order of the Dragon. As Tirodore watched the flag begin to fall, he saw a man holding up the solider and with that look he knew it to be Dumal. The Warrior-Saint beckoned to Tirodore and without hesitation the young man rushed forward to grab the banner before it could truly fall. The vision nodded and faded as swiftly as the flagbearers life did.

Banner in hand, Tirodore turned towards the charging army. Shouting out prayers, yelling out a rallying cry, Tirodore slowly gathered the men around him, who brought more attention still. He changed right towards the invaders and men followed. Tirodore did not waver as the brutal fight continued, the flag stood strong. For that fight, and every fight back to the border Tirodore carried the standard of the Dragon, leading his peers without any real command, but with the force of his own determination. Winter came, and the fighting grew even more brutal, but the combined force held until reinforcements could come from Lethia.

In the next battle a stray arrow struck Tirodore, who barely had enough time to hand the banner to someone before fell, dying on the field. After talk through the men at arms had spread back to Lethia the Templar order recognized his achievements, though it was not untilover a decade later, in 435, after more then a dozen units had reported a man holding their standard high even at the loss of a flagbearer that he was lionized.

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The Clan-less Clan

In the days before Rogalian occupation, when the Dunns were all free men and women, it was only a little better. The clans fought over resources, over love favors, over blood feuds.
One such clan was MacRairich. Long had they been proud healers and fighters, and their clan leader Fiann doted on his daughter, his only child. Brigid was her name, and though she was fair of face, her beauty paled beside her indomitable will. She learned to wield her father’s moor sword with grace and skill, to tend to flesh and bone and heal the damage it caused.
Three men wished to court her, particularly as her father waned in age, each aspiring to rule both their clans. Their aspirations were no secret and the three turned to fighting over who might have the right to wed her in the end. Their fight grew to encompass their clans and before long it had spiraled into something monstrous that men were dying over.
At the final battle, Brigid herself waded into the fray, dealing each man a wounding blow and causing the fighting to cease. As they clutched their wrent flesh, she spoke so that the depth of her voice was carried to all along the battlefield.
“Ne’er once did any o’ ye seek te ask my thoughts on this. Lives ‘re lost an’ blood spilt fer yer foolishness. As men ye sough’ only te bring death, fer tha’s all ye can do. Ye need a woman, one who c’n bring life te rule beside ye, bu’ I’ll ‘ave none o’ it. None o’ you.”
She left the field, left the men with mouths agape and some hope they’d been put in their place.
Upon returning home, Fiann expressed his disappointment that she had not let them fight it out and allowed the strongest to court her. Brigid’s mother had far kinder words, knowing the wisdom her daughter had spoken, for had she not spoken to Brigid’s father in much the same vein when they had wed? And yet she had given Fiann a chance and found him suiting.
So disillusioned was Brigid that she left her homestead for forty days and forty nights, returning more steadfast and stubborn than ever.
Some time after her return, it was noted that her belly was beginning to swell with child. No pleading, no bargaining, no cajoling, nor threats would loose the father’s name from her tongue. As the days came and went and the moon waxed and waned, Brigid and her father argued in a heated fashion, tempers flaring.
Fiann argued about what the babe might be called since none would know the father and a bastard child would bring shame to their clan. She argued that it would take on her name, for was she no less worthy? Was her blood not equally in the child’s veins?
In due time a daughter was born, and instead of calling her Roisin MacRairich in honor of her grandfather, Brigid called the girl Roisin inn Brigid, after herself. Her father raged, howling that without ‘Mac’ in her name that the baby girl would have no clan. Brigid raged back that it was better to be without a clan, for clan allegiance meant clan wars whenever a hot-headed chieftain declared it so and that healers such as they should have no clan allegiance for was not their duty to all who might need their skills? In true temper she declared that if he did not accept her and her wee daughter, she would leave the clan and leave him without an heir, take her daughter and her skills and her moor sword passed down and never return.
Realizing that Brigid would make good on her threat, Fiann relented. Seasons turned and when he passed away, Brigid took control of the clan. She declared that when her daughter came of age they would no longer hold onto a clan name, but would be healers in truth, putting the lives of men and women above the importance of clan allegiance. Furthermore, since one could always be certain who the mother was, but less so the father, a child could be given the mother’s name, for there was no shame in being born of woman, for that is the lot of every babe. Her wisdom was heard and seen and to this day there are those given their mother’s name, healers without clan, a long line devoted to life moreso than death.

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Hagiography of St. William the Penitent

William Avery was born under the shadow of Sunken Sorrow on the banks of the Mastow, third or fourth child of a Knight in service to the Old Count Telford in the year of the Lion’s Age 440. No heir to title of his own, his family was at least as relieved as it was worried when he showed the academic promise and self-confidence that would propel him to the halls of the Dextera Inflamatio.

A surprisingly average apprentice, William was a natural target for the depredations of his fellow students. He learned to persevere through the attempts to fuddle his magic and deny him access to resources by creating alliances with weaker, less ambitious students who were also being overlooked by the guild.

[Master Aropsis once in his cups explained to this writer that William probably misunderstood the entire purpose of the guild in the first place and should never have been accepted.]

This alliance building caused a shift in the apprentice dormitory that culminated in a battle where three apprentices died. Fearing punishment, William fled.

He found himself in the chapel of a Fortress Monastery repenting dearly of his participation in the wicked ways of the mage guild and resolved to join the monks in their contemplation of holy knowledge. In an effort to show true repentance and to placate the mages he cut off his own right hand and had it delivered to the Tower along with an Oath to keep the secrets of the Mages.

The Fire Mages put up a few symbolic protests, but as William was not a prominent figure and had already garnered local sympathy for his dramatic act, they didn’t pursue him with any public vigor. He was, however, quickly shipped to Port Melandir to live in anonymous obscurity in the monastery there.

William was not idle, joining the ranks of the Cyanahim and taking fully to their program of watching and influencing in a subtle way. He realized that by talking Reason to the people of the town and reassuring them of what magic could and could not do, he could offer them alternatives to the guilds and less anxiety about what the future would hold. A group of students at the University began to come to him for advice and to provide him with alms.

On the morning of the first day of Lion’s Age 462, Sister Margaret Artificer heard William speaking to others in his cell. Noting to herself that unsupervised visitors were not allowed within the chambers at such an hour entered his cell to remonstrate with him and eject his guests. He was speaking, not to guests, but to three flaming ghosts who hovered around him. William explained that he had been forgiven by his friends who died but would need to atone and rededicate his life to the service of Cyaniel.

He endured the fire and questions of the inquisition for three nights and the ritual of the Nuranihim for three days. He was found pure and sinless at the end of his ordeals and the Three Fiery Friends were resolved.

William took up the cause of the priesthood with more vigor, showing strength of character where once there was only sensitivity, moral certainty where there once was mere conscience. His followers began to perform like the knives of Cyaniel they were always meant to be, doing their tasks under cover of other activities. Mage apprentices were hard to come by that Summer and the church gained many new priests.

It was in 463 when the followers of William took up the Cards and began to wander the region, teaching the workings of Fate to all who would listen. The stories of the cards helped the most illiterate peasant to remember the tales of the Testimonium and the lessons contained inside. The friars accepted no money for these holy miracles, but would always accept an invitation to dine, so as to learn more about the homes of the people to whom they spoke.

In 465, the rumblings of war had begun again. A Njord fleet approached the Port and some of the Counts had been slow to respond to the general call. Melandir was to be defended by everyone from the Njord threat, but Rogalia is what it is and advantage was gained at the expense of all.

Seeing that this was the place Fate had put him, William ascended the Hill of Apples overlooking the harbor and began to pray. Five of his brethren had come with him, all secretly ‘sparks’ who had been concealed from divination magic by the power of Cyaniel. Their prayers reached up to heaven and the Five Companions pulled the hoods of their Order over their heads and raced down the hill towards the invading fleet. William for his part stood upon the hill and began to chant Words of Power that he had promised never to repeat in his life again, all those years ago.

It is said that day that he completed a spell of such power – combining fire, earth, water, and air – that it stopped the fleet from reaching the port while his Companions slaughtered the captains of the ships that approached, rising up from the water like the face of Judgement with knives that glowed like fire. Witnesses report that William’s hand had been restored to him by the power of Benalus Himself and a few believed it had been replaced by the paw of the White Lion.

[Master Aropsis has drunkenly insisted to this writer that such a spell was impossible and must be the mad ramblings of a fool. ‘One cannot,’ he shouted before he could control himself ‘put all of those elements in one working.’ When asked to explain himself further, Master Aropsis excused himself from my company and has not returned any further communication.]

The city was saved by these efforts and the grace of Benalus and William preached for another fortnight before he was found dead in the Chapel of St. Werner near the University having been drowned, flayed, burned, and crushed. No implements of murder were ever found and his right hand was freshly removed. The church never found the assassins nor were the mages guilds ever available to help investigate.

Upon the sealed testimony of the Nuranihim and Sepharahim who questioned him and the Companions who assisted him in his working, he was lionized on the first day of Autumn, Lion’s Age 475. His Order of the Stars was sanctioned by the Pontifex to continue his work within the law of the Church and the Emperor.

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Quod Fiet Operis Cordis (The Charred Heart)

A nickname used in campfire stories, whispered in hushed tones, The Charred Heart is a colorful moniker for one of the Inquisition’s more infamous members: Mephis Antagones.

Reputed to be utterly devoid of mercy where Heresy is concerned, it is said that he leaves no stone unburnt in purging heretics from a city.
The Charred Heart has frequently put whole families to the fire, men, women and children, and he has shown no reluctance to employ the methods of torture on even the young.
One of a number of stories recounts the young farmer Peris, found to be guilty of accepting assistance in the fields from a Vecatran, during a drought; Peris wanted only to provide food for his family, but the rains would not come, and nothing would grow. When the Vecatran offered to aid him in restoring his farm to a productive state, Peris succumbed to the temptation.
The Charred Heart put Peris to death and burned his farm and livestock to ash, but not before dismembering his wife and children in front of him.

The Charred Heart is constantly vigilant against the dangers of Heresy, and if he shows up in your city, Agony and Death come with him.

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Lady Vera Septwood

Vera Septwood (holy name: Valeria), Born Lion Age 582
3rd child, 2nd daughter of Lord Klaus Septwood, Lord of Zeestadt, and his wife, Lady Ursula.

Siblings:
Elias (heir of House Septwood), Born Lion Age 577
Lilli, Born Lion age 579
Cord, Born Lion age 584
Hans (soon to be anointed as Father Cornelius), Born Lion Age 587

Vera is known to be kind of heart, but with an adventurous spirit unbefitting a Gothic Lady. There have been reports of misconduct at court, rumours of unsavory friendships, and it is said that there were many sightings of her sneaking out of the Salt Keep in Zeestadt unattended as a child.
Currently there are no bids for her hand in marriage, as her elder sister is yet unmarried. She is residing in Stragosa per her father’s allowance and is expected to remain there until a bid for her hand is made or her family calls her home.

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Glasmalerei Guildmaster Goswin Schubert

Guildmaster of Glasmalerei Guild of Rosenberg

Guildmaster Goswin Schubert known to be an incredibly pious and kindly man, whose father was a lowly shoemaker.

Goswin was born in Rosenberg to Ernst and Elke Schubert. Ernst was a kindly and generous man who took great pride is his craft. Young Goswin dutifully followed his father’s instruction and by the age of 9 was of considerable skill. His hands were not yet strong enough but his agile mind compensated. He described tools and implements which would help him to compensate for it. His father commissioned a blacksmith friend to make a couple of them to humor his son. To Ernst’s amazement they worked as Goswin had described. Although it took him longer than a more experienced apprentice, is results were of very high quality.

Ernst praised his son at guild meetings and several older members started using the implements to help them as the strength had started to leave their own hands. Rumors of the young prodigy drifted in Merchant circles and eventually reached the ears of Guild Master Monika Weber, who was then the Guildmaster of the Glasmalerei. She knew Ernst to be a humble, and devout man. If he was moved to such praise then there might be more to it.

Guildmaster Weber, often attended convocation in peasants garb. The purpose was twofold. Firstly, that she might be able to remove the mantle of office and focus on spiritual matters for a time, secondly to be better positioned to hear the voice of the people unfiltered by their compulsion to respect her office. She had been keeping a watch on young Goswin when an event unfolded that would forever change his life.

On this day, Guildmaster Weber had decided to follow 12 year old Goswin home. She did so from a distance so as to remain unobserved. It was a difficult rainy season and the streets were a muddy mess. A peasant woman, heavy with child, tripped in the middle of the street. As expected, young Goswin hurried over to assist her. As he helped her up, he politely asked how she fared. She said she was well and thanked him. Young Goswin looked at her feet. Her muddied toes poked out through worn shoes. Goswin asked her if she’d do him a favor and she replied that of course she would. He then proceeded to remove his own boots and asked if he could have hers.

“I could never young master,” said the woman.

Goswin replied, “Please ma’am. It’s not just a matter of charity. I’ve never seen their like. I’m a shoemaker’s apprentice and i’d they’ve given me an idea.”

The woman eventually relented and blessed him as she walked away with a fine new pair of boots.
As Goswin started off home, barefoot and with worn shoes in hand, the disguised Guildmaster stopped him.
“young man, why did you trick that woman into taking your shoes?”

Goswin studied her for a moment and then responded, “the almighty calls us to be charitable and help one another. It was not simply a trick ma’am. I provided her with a compelling argument that was based in truth. Seeing her shoes did create an idea, for a simple shoe, that would be more readily afforded by those with less coin. I can’t estimate the value of that idea, as i have yet to put it into practice. I wanted to repay her, and she’s a poor woman with child. I assessed my boots to be both something she needed and fair trade. I have other shoes, a walk home in the water will remind me of the blessed life i lead never having wanted as does that good woman. Although my father will at first be displeased he is a good man, and might have done something similar were he present. I feel confident that it will be well. In the end, if nothing else I feel that i have at least attempted to honor to the leonem I wear about my neck.”

The Guildmaster smiled, and said, “you seem to be a good hearted young man.”

Goswin then replied by saying, “May I ask you a question … ma’am?”

the Guildmaster then smiled and replied, “of course. I have pried into your moment, there is no reason I should not return the same.”

Goswin then assured his position as an apprentice under her direct tutelage by saying, “Why does a woman of your station pretend to be poor?”

Taken aback she responded, “how is that then?”

“Well m’lady, your hands are rough as one who works, but there are the ink stains of one who often writes, or likely signs, documents on your fingertips. The ring on your right small finger is diminutive, but of goodly value. A memento I suppose. Though tarnished, your Leonem is of outstanding craftsmanship, and your meticulous enunciation is of one who speaks often and well. You smell of summer flowers and your clothes though of poor quality are very clean. Lastly, i point to your shoes, the topic of our previous discourse. My father’s work is better, but Master Klines work is very highly regarded and demands a high price,” he said.
The feat of mental acuity might have been enough, but the fact that the boy’s tone was not one of chastisement, or denigration at all. He was simply, being inquisitive and denoting the things that had caught his eye.

“I am Guildmaster Monika Weber, and I have a desire to make you my apprentice.”

Goswin replied, “I see. I’d like to finish the work on these new shoes, for the people, first and then, of course, my father must approve. It’s a great honor and I suppose we both know he’d agree,” he smiled, “thank you for the opportunity Guildmaster.”

The story of Goswin’s giving the unknown woman his shoes is well known. Although it is retold that the Guildmaster happened across him by chance, and the subsequent conversation is known to only a very few.
Guildmaster Goswin Schubert rose slowly through the ranks of the Glasmalerei Guild. His relationship with Guildmaster Weber grew throughout this time. Often they were referred to as the Mother and Son (of the Guild). In her last decade of service he was her right hand and he transitioned smoothly into his position.

In his time he has innovated several aspects of the Guild’s work. Not only refining processes at the higher end of the spectrum, but also creating a much easier to produce product that is more readily accessible to lords of lesser means. He is much loved both within the guild and throughout Rosenberg.
He has continued the tradition of attending convocation in unassuming clothing, and it has become a common practice throughout the guild.

Although he has had several apprentices during his career with the guild itself, he has not selected one since the passing of his dear friend Guildmaster Monika Weber.

Since becoming Guildmaster he has spent 1 week, every 3 months, with the Cyanihim Order of the Sacred Glass.

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Guardians of Truth

Guardians of Truth
Valor: Streetwise
Home: Laatzen
Keep: The Eternal Fortress

The Guardians of Truth, the sworn knights of House Sauber, are charged with the simple and straightforward duty of defending the Eternal Keep, the ancient fortress of House Sauber since before the Throne. While this mission is straightforward, the duties of these knights are anything but.

Laatzen comes under attack more than any other city in Gotha. The attempts to take the city come from various sources. This year, a rebellious peasant army. That year, accused of treason by Fafnir in a misunderstanding worked out afterward. Another year, orc rampaging from a mountain range no cavalry caught in time. It is always something, so the Guardians of Truth are as eternally vigilant as the fortress that they guard. It has never been taken.

In order to fulfill their duty and protect the city, the Guardians of Truth maintain an information network that is vast and well-maintained. Informants are paid well for their services, and spies operate everywhere in the region so that the knights can be in position to handle threats from any direction. Knights errant are sent to far off places if the Order believes that a conspiratorial threat can be found there.

Every potential knight is vetted carefully before they are allowed entry to the order, and even for a nobleman of great lineage, it is considered an honor.

Grand Master: Simon Sauber a distant cousin to the Graf.

Simon is driven to perfection, and executes his duties to House Sauber flawlessly. Nothing of significance happens in these lands without his foreknowledge. His ability to read a person’s character comes from years of digging through reams of information in reports Hidden in the Order’s storehouse, known as the hole.
However, Simon is also a petty man. Any perceived slight is met with outward apathy, but inward he seethes. He will dig deep into the his newfound enemies life, cracking open their every secret and weakness.

Then he waits. When the moment comes, and it always comes, he shines his light of justice upon them.
He prefers to be present when the person’s life is ruined, but his ire will also be sated when they are put in their place. Many people have been ruined years after have made a jest, or a barely perceptible eyeroll. They stand accused of misdeeds, or are compelled to act against their own interests, never knowing why. But Simon knows, and that is all he needs.

Master: Denis Redler
To the world he is Sir Denis Redler, who lives in the shadow of Grandmaster Simon. Within the Order’s upper echelons he is highly respected for his amazing talents.

Denis is a good man. A patriot. In another life he might have been one of the greatest actors of his time. As it stands he is one of the greatest information gatherers in the Throne.

Denis is fluent in numerous languages and dialects. He can transform himself instantly, almost as if by magic. So convincing is he, that many who know him best wonder if he is really the Sir Denis they know, or if that is nothing more than another of his personas.

Commander: Justin Engel, Eldest Nephew of Herzog Gerrhard Engel.
Sir Justin Engel is the Hammer of the order. He is an extremely capable tactician. Every major operation, the Order sets in motion, is vetted through him. He has proven himself again and again in the field of battle. He has led several rescue operations to deliver support or extract high value targets and information.

Oddly, and seemingly in contrast, he is an extremely devout man with a gentle smile and a word of encouragement for all. He has prayed for fallen foe and comrade alike. He feeds the poor from his own personal wealth and he lives a life of extreme moderation.

Seneschal: Heribert Sauber, A ruthless man who is rumored to be very much in the Graff’s favor.
The opposite of Ser Justin Engel’s smile is the dark scowl that rests permanently on Sir Heribert Saubers face. He is rough and brutish. The only mercy given to those around him is that he is also extremely laconic.

Nothing is ever good enough for him. He often says, “good enough is the bane of greatness!” He is Loyal to the Graf and to the order. This may be the reason he stands so much in his favor, often having dinner alone with the Graf.

The man runs a tight ship, and there is much to be learned about efficiency by anyone who can tolerate him for more than a few weeks.

Marshal: Felix Hardt
Sir Felix Hardt can best be summed up as meticulous. He’s a good man with a good heart but he can’t wrap his head around politics. This makes him an awful noble. However, it is not surprising for an upjumped Knight.

He proved himself on the field of battle, he’s a fair blacksmith and he knows horseflesh like no other. So he here sits, the Marshal. A great Marshal but unlikely to ever rise any higher.

When asked about this he simply says, “this be more’n i e’er had or imagined. I am plenty happy here.”

Under-Marshal: Ulrich Stricker
Sir Ulrich Stricker is an upjumped knight with visions of greatness. He has risen quickly to the position of under marshal and has performed admirably. He wants to rise, and those above him are acutely aware of such. However, unbeknownst to him the one thing that stands in him in their favor is that he has thus far refused to compromise his integrity to do so.

Grandmaster Simon Sauber has tested him 3 times and each time the man has simply reported his findings to his direct superior as expected. He has not gone out of his way to attract the attention of his superiors, despite the fact taht he possess the obvious political acumen to know that it would likely speed his promotion.

He will soon receive a call to be the Grandmaster’s personal assistant.

Standard Bearer: Norbert Wagner
Sir Norbert Wagner is newly Knighted. His family is minor nobility in good standing with House Sauber.
He seems oddly fond of the Seneschal, Sir Heribert Sauber, and will often make excuses, for him, when any of the others grumble about his abrasive disposition. He was Ser Heribert’s squire until he was knighted.

He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and share’s his former knights attention to detail. However it is contained in a much more palatable disposition.

Treasurer: Alfons Blum
Sir Alfons handles all the financial affairs for the order. All of the records and hand written in triplicate and everything is in its place.

When the Graff sends his annual auditor’s down Alfons smiles. He patiently waits for them tea in hand. He greets them and then escorts them to his personal sanctuary, the records room.
He has been the treasurer for 10 years. in those 10 years he has never had a single question raised on his bookkeeping, and the order has made a modest profit.

The Guardians of Truth are among the best provisioned knights in the Throne, and that is due in no small part to Ser Alfons Blum’s acumen.

Draper: Leo Otto
Sir Leo Otto believes that the uniform makes the man. He holds weekly inspections, and does random spot inspections. By direct order from Sir Leo Otto, ALL Knights, and squires, about to go on Duty must first pass uniform spot checks from their superiors.

Sir Leo Otto, also does random uniform inspections on those standing watch and on those walking patrol. If he is not satisfied he will summon their superior to assume the subordinates watch until they don new clothing.

He is quite possibly the least liked man in the order. However, there is no denying that the Order looks quite formidable to any who official that tours and sees what appears as countless identical helmeted figures throughout the city.

Lay Servants:

Head Cook: Willem Wichterle
Willem has been a cook for the Order for 40 years. He has seen them come and he has seen them go.
He’s quick with a joke, and has an infectious laugh. Many of the young Knights, and some of the older ones call him Pappy.

Pappy, takes care of his boys. His food is impressive by military standards. It is perhaps not fit for High noble tables, but then again that’s not who he’s cooking for.

What some don’t know is that Pappy was once a squire for the Order. His hip was shattered in battle. As soon as he could walk he went to the kitchen and started helping. This he did rather than take a stipend for valorous service as he had taken the wound saving the former Graf.

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Hezke von Heidrich

Hezke is the eldest surviving child of Müdegarde and Eberhard Heidrich. She has one younger sibling, Pankratz Jantis von Heidrich. Originally from Lystadt, Hezke currently lives in Stragosa where she serves the Emperor and the city in her role as Reichsgrafin. She is also a Knight of The Inevitable Truth.