Lo, the King of Kjellos, Magnus of the Karharts, has brought cruel war to the Bay of Ahrain. He has gathered his Greves and Lendmen into a great army and marched them all into Ambar. In the opening days of the war, several castles fell at once to the King: Yaromav, Tasliv, and Thuromal. However, one fortress along the border resisted the king's army: the castle at Paroslav, a minor town on the route into central Ambar. Resistance at Paroslav was fierce. Members of the Black Compact manned the walls as the King's army approached, and rumors in the countryside spoke of a powerful boyar-necromancer called Uvish syn Malnikov.
King Magnus commanded the army to move on, fearful of losing the advantage of momentum. He left Grandmaster Sieur Severin Kjora, the Order of the Forge Divine, and Greveman Varius Holmgren behind to neutralize the castle and to prevent it from becoming a dangerous thorn in his side. A pitched field battle between the Kjellan army and the assembled forces of the Ambarite king, the Sudyav Korol ensued as the king marched on. Hundreds of hobgoblins and bugbears under the Korol's command were slain, opening the way to the lowland castles surrounding the capital of Dorovstchev.
Now, the king's great army sits upon the plain before Dorovstchev, intent on pushing forward, destroying the Sudyav Korol, and ending the rule of the Black Compact in Ambar.
Back at the critical stronghold of Paroslav, the Order summoned assistance in the form of the airborne paladin, Sieur Einar Skyborne. As the siege dragged on, the men on the Paroslav walls dwindled. Rumors of Boyar syn Malnikov's power spread through the siege camp. The serfs of Paroslav whispered that Uvish was the son and student of the great necromancer Malnikov, dead years past.
The Order, after repeated attacks on the front gate, managed to wrest the portcullis from its socket and throw it down. In an attempt to end the siege and join the king, the Grandmaster of the Forge Divine ordered an attack on the gate. The storm failed; twenty knights in Order colors, twenty-five of Greveman Holmgren's, and five Order paladins rushed the gatehouse. Before they could enter, a wave of dark magic, like a tidal bore, washed over them. They fell in full view of the army, dead within seconds.
Fewer and fewer men were seen on the walls of Paroslav. At last, it became clear that the castle was no longer being manned by the living. On the eve of Sieur Einar's arrival, three men were captured attempting to flee through the siege lines, having issued forth from the postern gate. Sorcerers, apprentices of Uvish syn Malnikov, they were judged by the Order priestess Caelia Divina, and sentenced to death.
Their sentence was commuted on the following morning and two of three were spared at Divina's order, merely suffering the indignity of broken left hands, preventing them from ever practicing spellcraft again. The third, after a tearful confession, was killed in the old way: a silver sledge was used to crush his skull.
With the arrival of Sieur Einar, Sieur Severin demanded that he take a squad of men and women from the Order, assault the keep, and slay the necromancer Uvish syn Malnikov.
Let their names ring out forever in Ambar: Sieur Einar Skyborne, Sieur Rurik of the Torch, who fell, Sieura Aurelia of the Forge, the halfling Cabbott, who died in battle with Malnikov the necromancer, Magister Toban the Arcanist, Chief Scholar of the Order, and Caelia Divina.
The necromancer, Malnikov, dwelt yet within the castle, and was attended by all manner of evil priests, necromantic beasts, and none other than Captain Georg Balshinov, an Oprian member of the Black Compact who, to save his own life from a wasting disease, submitted himself to Malnikov's sorcerous ministrations.
But woe! For Sieur Severin Kjora, Grandmaster of the Order, died as well; the necromancer slew the brave knight, and no longer will his gigantic frame dominate the field. Nor will he wield the great two-handed Valelan sword Heartrender e'er again. His position has passed to his lieutenant, the Knight-Master Timaeus Battleborn—the first grandmaster since the order's foundation to have been born a peasant.
More news out of the siege of Paroslav: the wizard Malnikov, in the moments before his death, informed Sieur Einar of the nature of the evil now dwelling on Sunhome Isle. "The greatest accomplishment of the people of Ambar was to drive your order from it." The truth, then, that Malnikov revealed was this: the Head of the Alchemist, recovered from its gravesite in Golnia, was taken in secret by Ambarite sorcerers to Sunhome during the siege. There, still possessing the power of speech, and of awful magic, it returned Orlandus Sunhome to life; not as a man, but as a paladin fallen, a figure of black magic, wielding Angurvidal, the Stream of Anguish, which in his corrupted hands burns as ice.
And so it is this twin deathless watch of Orlandus the Corrupt and the Alchemist who have kept Sunhome these two centuries past; and their ceaseless evil which has held Sunhome against the bold knights of the order.
Ruminations on fiction, roleplaying, and assorted irritants.
Showing posts with label holy order. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holy order. Show all posts
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Saturday, February 18, 2017
Holy Books: The Life of Orlandus -- Part 3
See Part 1 and Part 2.
Our Lord Orlandus sought for a blade with which to slay the Weeping King. He knew there was one place where he could find such a sword for certain: Hârnholme. The ancient kingdom of the dwarves was the one place where a man could earn himself a mighty blade, laid with magics that might slay an immortal tyrant like the King of Tears. For three years he worked and lived as a gestr to the dwarves. He abandoned his goodly works and there our lord of Sunhome shoveled coke and pumped the bellows of a forge. He worked as a drover, a carter, and a woodsman. All these things he did without the comfort of a place in the dwarven halls, a worker without a home.
In the deep winter of the third year, the Mountain Smith Magnr Smokebeard came to the rick wherein our lord slept and said, "For three years you have lived on scraps, as less than an apprentice amongst a people who have no love for you. For three years you have toiled in the workshops of my forge, smelting ore and moving fuel. Something must have brought you here. Why have you come?"
And when Orlandus our Lord told Magnr Smokebeard his quest to slay the Weeping King, Magnr brought him into his most intimate workshops, beyond the secret vaulted doors which only the Master Smiths could open; lo, our Lord was was shown the very heart of the Mountain Smiths' forges, where the ancient and mighty keys that are the patrimony of the dwarves must undo the mightiest locks ever devised. And in this place, Magnr Smokebeard told Orlandus, "You will learn to work steel and gold, balglamr and aedr. Only when this is done will we forge your sword."
For ten years, Orlandus studied under Magnr Smokebeard, and he learned only the most meager of the dwarf's secrets, for the Mountain Smiths rarely share their powerful art, and even in the aid of such a worthy cause this Smokebeard would not reveal to Orlandus the most mighty of arts. Yet even so, when the ten years were complete he spent one final year under Smokebeard's tutelage to forge the blade he would carry for the rest of his life; the holy sword, blessed by Haeron the Hammerer, which is called Angurvidal.
So, too, did Magnr Smokebeard forge for Orlandus our Lord a suit of armor in the old Milean fashion which is called Peaceward; a misericord called Heartpiercer; a hammer named Thalmung; and a spear called Atgir. With these weapons and harness, Roland of Sunhome ventured forth to confront the Weeping King.
North, he went, and northward, until at last he came into the Kingdom of Aedeion, within the mist-girdled forests. With him, too, was his sacral destrier, Lightning. As he went, the Weeping King's people flocked to his banner, eager to, at last, overthrow their awful lord. A great battle was joined before the gates of Lakra, the eternal city. The lieutenants of the Weeping King could not give battle or ride forth beneath the blazing sun. Thus, the armies of the vampire-lord were defeated without their leaders, and the city of Lakra was stormed. Hundreds of vile servants were woken from their enchanted slumber, and hundreds more who served willingly driven to the edge of the Red Lake and executed there until the waves ran with blood.
At last, as the sun set, the Weeping King came forth from his palace, flanked by his vampiric children. But our Lord Roland was a knight pure of heart and mighty of arm; seven of the eldest vampiric princes died by his hand in that bloody sunset, and then, at last, with lance, shield, and blade, he brought low the Weeping King.
Our Lord Orlandus sought for a blade with which to slay the Weeping King. He knew there was one place where he could find such a sword for certain: Hârnholme. The ancient kingdom of the dwarves was the one place where a man could earn himself a mighty blade, laid with magics that might slay an immortal tyrant like the King of Tears. For three years he worked and lived as a gestr to the dwarves. He abandoned his goodly works and there our lord of Sunhome shoveled coke and pumped the bellows of a forge. He worked as a drover, a carter, and a woodsman. All these things he did without the comfort of a place in the dwarven halls, a worker without a home.
In the deep winter of the third year, the Mountain Smith Magnr Smokebeard came to the rick wherein our lord slept and said, "For three years you have lived on scraps, as less than an apprentice amongst a people who have no love for you. For three years you have toiled in the workshops of my forge, smelting ore and moving fuel. Something must have brought you here. Why have you come?"
And when Orlandus our Lord told Magnr Smokebeard his quest to slay the Weeping King, Magnr brought him into his most intimate workshops, beyond the secret vaulted doors which only the Master Smiths could open; lo, our Lord was was shown the very heart of the Mountain Smiths' forges, where the ancient and mighty keys that are the patrimony of the dwarves must undo the mightiest locks ever devised. And in this place, Magnr Smokebeard told Orlandus, "You will learn to work steel and gold, balglamr and aedr. Only when this is done will we forge your sword."
For ten years, Orlandus studied under Magnr Smokebeard, and he learned only the most meager of the dwarf's secrets, for the Mountain Smiths rarely share their powerful art, and even in the aid of such a worthy cause this Smokebeard would not reveal to Orlandus the most mighty of arts. Yet even so, when the ten years were complete he spent one final year under Smokebeard's tutelage to forge the blade he would carry for the rest of his life; the holy sword, blessed by Haeron the Hammerer, which is called Angurvidal.
So, too, did Magnr Smokebeard forge for Orlandus our Lord a suit of armor in the old Milean fashion which is called Peaceward; a misericord called Heartpiercer; a hammer named Thalmung; and a spear called Atgir. With these weapons and harness, Roland of Sunhome ventured forth to confront the Weeping King.
North, he went, and northward, until at last he came into the Kingdom of Aedeion, within the mist-girdled forests. With him, too, was his sacral destrier, Lightning. As he went, the Weeping King's people flocked to his banner, eager to, at last, overthrow their awful lord. A great battle was joined before the gates of Lakra, the eternal city. The lieutenants of the Weeping King could not give battle or ride forth beneath the blazing sun. Thus, the armies of the vampire-lord were defeated without their leaders, and the city of Lakra was stormed. Hundreds of vile servants were woken from their enchanted slumber, and hundreds more who served willingly driven to the edge of the Red Lake and executed there until the waves ran with blood.
At last, as the sun set, the Weeping King came forth from his palace, flanked by his vampiric children. But our Lord Roland was a knight pure of heart and mighty of arm; seven of the eldest vampiric princes died by his hand in that bloody sunset, and then, at last, with lance, shield, and blade, he brought low the Weeping King.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Holy Books: The Life of Orlandus -- Part 2
Also see Part 1.
At the end of his third year fighting for Metropolitan Timarus, the old man met his end; at last, age claimed what leprosy and the decaying dome of the Vectedréan temple could not. Orlandus went to his bedside dressed in the garb of a temple knight. Timarus spoke to him one last time, reminding our lord of his duty to the Hammerer, who had graced him with such wonders. But the last thing that Timarus said to Orlandus was not to bind him to Vectedréa and the Kingdom of Byrne. Timarus the Leper told our lord "You must spread your light to the places in the world which are the darkest. This is the destiny the Hammerer had in mind for you."
Now, in those days, there were many evils that still haunted the world. The Alchemist had yet to wake from his necromantic slumber, but our lord would fight against that villain in his later years. This was at the end of the Red Age, when Craftsman's Reach was unified under the Lords of Calantheas. No, the great evil of Arunia, when Roland of Wilderlund was a young man, was none other than the Weeping King of the Adeion.
The Weeping King was a figure out of nightmare legend. There were those who claimed he had served Rho'anir the Shapeless One in the Wars of High Sorcery, and those who said he had been a serjent in the armies of Tallëor Twice-Born during the War of Shadows. None, now, can say what the truth was. But amongst those barbaric peoples of the wide open spaces there rose a single power, fusing together the eight warring clan-folk of men and the three nations of wood elves beneath his borders. This man was called The Weeping King.
It was certain that he was long lived. He ruled his kingdom Adeira for five generations of men. The peoples of that land, who knew not how to build like the men of the south, and so tunneled, burrowed, and made their squat towers, were called upon to construct an elaborate castle for the Weeping King, made of stone quarried from the Dragonback range. He made treaty with the Old Soloth, and his nation was flooded with Solothen slaves to do his bidding.
Now, you must also know that our lord did not set out simply to depose a tyrant. There were countless tyrants in his time. No, for there were even greater ills perpetrated by the Weeping King. This monarch made it custom to slay who he would, and there are those accounts which whisper that he would then bathe in their blood. In his might, he challenged even the borders of mighty Tailimisiä, and the elves were forced to make treaty with him to keep his armies at bay. He gave places of high honor to Frost Giants, ogres, and other unclean children of Ulagos' wheel.
Suffice to say, the Weeping King was no mere mortal, but a demon in human form. Orlandus had been told of this monstrous ruler since he was a boy, and he set out now to end the creature's rule once and for all. Indeed, it is set down in his own hand that the Weeping King was a "vampiric spirit of evil humor, puffed up and gorged with blood, and stuffed into the body of an ill-tempered, squat, white-haired man, whose eyes perpetually oozed sickly tears."
To slay the Weeping King, Orlandus knew he would require something more than his native strength and cunning. It was said that an elvish emissary to the king's court had, after being rudely insulted again and again, challenged the foul creature to a duel. There, in the courtyard of the great castle, the king obliged, only to prove that each stroke of the elvish blade made cuts that closed as of their own accord, or else could not even pierce his pale gray flesh.
This, then, was Orlandus' task: our lord must needs seek out a weapon capable of destroying the Weeping King, and bring justice to the north. Though he still nursed a private grudge in his heart against Queen Mir, he could not trouble himself with her reign—though she had seized the throne with violence, she had, in his years abroad, ruled the Wilderlund well.
At the end of his third year fighting for Metropolitan Timarus, the old man met his end; at last, age claimed what leprosy and the decaying dome of the Vectedréan temple could not. Orlandus went to his bedside dressed in the garb of a temple knight. Timarus spoke to him one last time, reminding our lord of his duty to the Hammerer, who had graced him with such wonders. But the last thing that Timarus said to Orlandus was not to bind him to Vectedréa and the Kingdom of Byrne. Timarus the Leper told our lord "You must spread your light to the places in the world which are the darkest. This is the destiny the Hammerer had in mind for you."
Now, in those days, there were many evils that still haunted the world. The Alchemist had yet to wake from his necromantic slumber, but our lord would fight against that villain in his later years. This was at the end of the Red Age, when Craftsman's Reach was unified under the Lords of Calantheas. No, the great evil of Arunia, when Roland of Wilderlund was a young man, was none other than the Weeping King of the Adeion.
The Weeping King was a figure out of nightmare legend. There were those who claimed he had served Rho'anir the Shapeless One in the Wars of High Sorcery, and those who said he had been a serjent in the armies of Tallëor Twice-Born during the War of Shadows. None, now, can say what the truth was. But amongst those barbaric peoples of the wide open spaces there rose a single power, fusing together the eight warring clan-folk of men and the three nations of wood elves beneath his borders. This man was called The Weeping King.
It was certain that he was long lived. He ruled his kingdom Adeira for five generations of men. The peoples of that land, who knew not how to build like the men of the south, and so tunneled, burrowed, and made their squat towers, were called upon to construct an elaborate castle for the Weeping King, made of stone quarried from the Dragonback range. He made treaty with the Old Soloth, and his nation was flooded with Solothen slaves to do his bidding.
Now, you must also know that our lord did not set out simply to depose a tyrant. There were countless tyrants in his time. No, for there were even greater ills perpetrated by the Weeping King. This monarch made it custom to slay who he would, and there are those accounts which whisper that he would then bathe in their blood. In his might, he challenged even the borders of mighty Tailimisiä, and the elves were forced to make treaty with him to keep his armies at bay. He gave places of high honor to Frost Giants, ogres, and other unclean children of Ulagos' wheel.
Suffice to say, the Weeping King was no mere mortal, but a demon in human form. Orlandus had been told of this monstrous ruler since he was a boy, and he set out now to end the creature's rule once and for all. Indeed, it is set down in his own hand that the Weeping King was a "vampiric spirit of evil humor, puffed up and gorged with blood, and stuffed into the body of an ill-tempered, squat, white-haired man, whose eyes perpetually oozed sickly tears."
To slay the Weeping King, Orlandus knew he would require something more than his native strength and cunning. It was said that an elvish emissary to the king's court had, after being rudely insulted again and again, challenged the foul creature to a duel. There, in the courtyard of the great castle, the king obliged, only to prove that each stroke of the elvish blade made cuts that closed as of their own accord, or else could not even pierce his pale gray flesh.
This, then, was Orlandus' task: our lord must needs seek out a weapon capable of destroying the Weeping King, and bring justice to the north. Though he still nursed a private grudge in his heart against Queen Mir, he could not trouble himself with her reign—though she had seized the throne with violence, she had, in his years abroad, ruled the Wilderlund well.
Holy Books: The Life of Orlandus -- Part 1
The following text is from the Life of Orlandus, a hagiography of the founder of the Order of the Forge Divine, which is revered as one of that sacred knighthood's most holy writings.
Orlandus, Lord of Sunhome, founder of our Most Beneficent and Mighty Order, was born to a humble country knight. It is from beginnings such as these that the Smith forges into the greatest of heroes. By alloy and tempering, the High God reaches out and remakes his chosen. Such are the blessed strictures of the Golden Bands of Law! Joyous are our hearts, as he gives us joy.
Orlandus was born near the end of the Eighth Age of men, in the Kingdom of Wilderlund. His father was a knight minor who served the house of Queen Evandyn the Just. They were an impoverished family, granted only a single estate near the ancient city of Toleiere. At court, Orlandus learned the measure of cruelty and barbarism when Queen Evandyn was murdered by her sister. The coup cost Orlandus' father his life, and Orlandus was expelled from the royal court after the accession of Queen Mir.
Orlandus, Lord of Sunhome, founder of our Most Beneficent and Mighty Order, was born to a humble country knight. It is from beginnings such as these that the Smith forges into the greatest of heroes. By alloy and tempering, the High God reaches out and remakes his chosen. Such are the blessed strictures of the Golden Bands of Law! Joyous are our hearts, as he gives us joy.
Orlandus was born near the end of the Eighth Age of men, in the Kingdom of Wilderlund. His father was a knight minor who served the house of Queen Evandyn the Just. They were an impoverished family, granted only a single estate near the ancient city of Toleiere. At court, Orlandus learned the measure of cruelty and barbarism when Queen Evandyn was murdered by her sister. The coup cost Orlandus' father his life, and Orlandus was expelled from the royal court after the accession of Queen Mir.
This is where the extraordinary Life of the blessed knight begins. Until that time, he was merely a boy, but after he escaped the Night of Tears and the Hall of the Drawn Knives, Orlandus would be a boy no longer. No, for he watched his father die defending Queen Evandyn, and saw the queen herself cut down by none other than Ghuron the Butcher. Friendless and hunted, Orlandus fled the palace into the city, seeking refuge.
Refuge, he found, in the form of a temple devoted to the Hammerer. Our lord fled westward, passing ever farther from the danger of Queen Mir and her faithful right hand, the Butcher. So it was that he came at last to the kingdom of Byrne upon the Rootwood. After many long months of travel, our young lord entered the service of Timarus the Leper in the city of Vectedréa, who was then the Metropolitan of that place.
Though he had been noble-born, Orlandus feared to speak his father's name, for the agents of Queen Mir roamed far and wide, and the Kingdom of Wilderlund was one of the mightiest of its day. So he called himself Roland and served as an acolyte in Timarus' temple. But there came three signs of his fated destiny.
The first was the touch which healed Timarus of his leprosy. The ancient priest had suffered from the wasting death since he was a young man, but one afternoon in the enclosure our lord placed his hands upon Timarus and they prayed together to the Hammerer in the way that Timarus had taught him. When they rose, the old man suddenly found that he could feel the fire in his joints, the pain in his fingers, the cold in his toes. Lo! They thanked the Hammerer for the display of a miracle, and Timarus turned his eye to watch our Orlandus, who was called Roland.
The second sign came when a storm collapsed the ancient dome of the Vectedréan temple. It had been built long ago by the Milean emperors, and a stroke of lightning sent from the vault of heaven smashed the stone and sent it tumbling to the earth within. Several acolytes were cleaning the temple hall during the storm, and one among their number was our lord Orlandus. He saw an acolyte struck by falling stone, felled like a cow hit with a pole-axe. He rushed to his companion's aid, and where his hands touched the bloodied head, they came away clean; the boy was healed, and he survived to become a smith in the city.
The final sign came in Roland's sixteenth year. Ghuron the Butcher had been dispatched by Queen Mir to find and murder all the exiles of Wilderlund that they might not form a league abroad and convince the king of Byrne to make war. Ghuron's assassins fanned through the city, seeking many who had come with our lord Orlandus. When the Butcher arrived at the temple, he came in the guise of a penitent, but he concealed a sword beneath his cloak.
Roland, he recognized amongst the acolytes at once. He drew his blade and lay into the boy, who was struck by the poisoned edge; the blow, which should have split his skull, merely ripped open his scalp and sent him plunging to the floor. Ghuron escaped before the temple guard could apprehend him, certain that Orlandus of Wilderlund had been slain. For three days and three nights, Roland lay in fevered dreams. No medici of the city could help him. Even Timarus did not have the power to put the poison out of the boy's body. But lo! On the third day, Roland awoke, saved by the grace of the Hammerer, a scar upon his brow.
Thus, after the third sign, did Timarus tell Orlandus that he had been chosen by the Hammerer for great things. The boy was given arms and armor from the vaults of the temple. Timarus told him: "Go forth, boy, and bring his light into dark places."
Though he had been noble-born, Orlandus feared to speak his father's name, for the agents of Queen Mir roamed far and wide, and the Kingdom of Wilderlund was one of the mightiest of its day. So he called himself Roland and served as an acolyte in Timarus' temple. But there came three signs of his fated destiny.
The first was the touch which healed Timarus of his leprosy. The ancient priest had suffered from the wasting death since he was a young man, but one afternoon in the enclosure our lord placed his hands upon Timarus and they prayed together to the Hammerer in the way that Timarus had taught him. When they rose, the old man suddenly found that he could feel the fire in his joints, the pain in his fingers, the cold in his toes. Lo! They thanked the Hammerer for the display of a miracle, and Timarus turned his eye to watch our Orlandus, who was called Roland.
The second sign came when a storm collapsed the ancient dome of the Vectedréan temple. It had been built long ago by the Milean emperors, and a stroke of lightning sent from the vault of heaven smashed the stone and sent it tumbling to the earth within. Several acolytes were cleaning the temple hall during the storm, and one among their number was our lord Orlandus. He saw an acolyte struck by falling stone, felled like a cow hit with a pole-axe. He rushed to his companion's aid, and where his hands touched the bloodied head, they came away clean; the boy was healed, and he survived to become a smith in the city.
The final sign came in Roland's sixteenth year. Ghuron the Butcher had been dispatched by Queen Mir to find and murder all the exiles of Wilderlund that they might not form a league abroad and convince the king of Byrne to make war. Ghuron's assassins fanned through the city, seeking many who had come with our lord Orlandus. When the Butcher arrived at the temple, he came in the guise of a penitent, but he concealed a sword beneath his cloak.
Roland, he recognized amongst the acolytes at once. He drew his blade and lay into the boy, who was struck by the poisoned edge; the blow, which should have split his skull, merely ripped open his scalp and sent him plunging to the floor. Ghuron escaped before the temple guard could apprehend him, certain that Orlandus of Wilderlund had been slain. For three days and three nights, Roland lay in fevered dreams. No medici of the city could help him. Even Timarus did not have the power to put the poison out of the boy's body. But lo! On the third day, Roland awoke, saved by the grace of the Hammerer, a scar upon his brow.
Thus, after the third sign, did Timarus tell Orlandus that he had been chosen by the Hammerer for great things. The boy was given arms and armor from the vaults of the temple. Timarus told him: "Go forth, boy, and bring his light into dark places."
Friday, February 19, 2016
Holy Orders: The Forge Divine
Of all the knightly orders in the North, it is likely that the Order of the Forge Divine is the oldest and most esteemed. It traces its roots back to the end of the second Second Empire, when the Mileans ruled the North from the Cloud Sea to the Sea of Gold. The sacred knights of Haeron gathered in the west to found the order during the Second Elf-Dragon war, when the rulers of Synd threatened the west. The western provinces of the Empire remained more or less in tact thanks to the presence of the Milean Temple. The Western Divine, Sormus Calinus, gathered the clerics of the Sun Shores at a great conclave at the seat of the Western Temple, at the ruins of what is now Nightguard Temple in Tholverin.
During the Synod of Nightguard, the Forge Divine was organized and established as a chapter of the Western Divine's authority. Its first Grandmaster, Orlandus Sunholme, brought together the disparate orders of Hierian clergy and built a keep on Sunholme Isle in the bay south of the Kaelian Marsh. In the following Ages, the Forge Divine acted as a semi-independent religious order, owing no allegiance to the secular rulers of the nearby kingdoms. It helped knight together the Sun Shores and provide a cultural lynchpin for the human lands of that region, most particularly powerful during the Sixth and Seventh Ages.
Sunholme Keep was abandoned after the Ambarite kings forced the Forge Divine to withdraw from the puppet-kingdoms it was establishing. Golnian power aided in this expulsion, and a long siege of Sunholme Keep ended only when King Baldur Karhart extended his protection to Grandmaster Larelus and invited the order to settle at Elborg in X.337. For one hundred and seventy-three years (as of the year X.510), the Forge Divine has been governed from the Kjellan stronghold of Highwater Keep, near the Five Hamlets of Elborg.
The Order of the Forge Divine has no holy book equivalent to the Codex Devout of the Order of the Sword Militant. The sacred texts of the Forge Divine are, in fact, cobbled together from centuries of rulings and writings. Collectively these are called the Sacral Index and are stored at Highwater Keep in the archives, which were taken from Sunholme Keep when the Forge fled.
Grandmaster: Sieur Severin Kjora
Master of the Reach: Sieur Aras Gorr
Paladin Ranks within the Order
Paige (levels 1-3)
Knight
Knight-Sergeant
Knight-Captain
Knight-Master
Chapter Master
The Forge Divine prizes skill at smithing, and treats its sword- and armor-smiths with great reverence. The symbol of the Forge is the golden anvil of Haeron. Paladins of the Order are not technically full priests, but they are inducted as clerics minor of the Temple. This is even though the High Lawkeeper and the central Temple of Miles does not recognize the authority of the Order Divine to conduct Hierian ceremonies.
There are several major chapters of the Forge within Kjellos and one in the region of Craftsman's Reach. The Forge holds its lands directly from King Karhart, and thus owes him their fealty.
All members of the Order of the Forge Divine may receive either the Religion (Haeron) or Blacksmithing NWP for free.
During the Synod of Nightguard, the Forge Divine was organized and established as a chapter of the Western Divine's authority. Its first Grandmaster, Orlandus Sunholme, brought together the disparate orders of Hierian clergy and built a keep on Sunholme Isle in the bay south of the Kaelian Marsh. In the following Ages, the Forge Divine acted as a semi-independent religious order, owing no allegiance to the secular rulers of the nearby kingdoms. It helped knight together the Sun Shores and provide a cultural lynchpin for the human lands of that region, most particularly powerful during the Sixth and Seventh Ages.
Sunholme Keep was abandoned after the Ambarite kings forced the Forge Divine to withdraw from the puppet-kingdoms it was establishing. Golnian power aided in this expulsion, and a long siege of Sunholme Keep ended only when King Baldur Karhart extended his protection to Grandmaster Larelus and invited the order to settle at Elborg in X.337. For one hundred and seventy-three years (as of the year X.510), the Forge Divine has been governed from the Kjellan stronghold of Highwater Keep, near the Five Hamlets of Elborg.
The Order of the Forge Divine has no holy book equivalent to the Codex Devout of the Order of the Sword Militant. The sacred texts of the Forge Divine are, in fact, cobbled together from centuries of rulings and writings. Collectively these are called the Sacral Index and are stored at Highwater Keep in the archives, which were taken from Sunholme Keep when the Forge fled.
Grandmaster: Sieur Severin Kjora
Master of the Reach: Sieur Aras Gorr
Paladin Ranks within the Order
Paige (levels 1-3)
Knight
Knight-Sergeant
Knight-Captain
Knight-Master
Chapter Master
The Forge Divine prizes skill at smithing, and treats its sword- and armor-smiths with great reverence. The symbol of the Forge is the golden anvil of Haeron. Paladins of the Order are not technically full priests, but they are inducted as clerics minor of the Temple. This is even though the High Lawkeeper and the central Temple of Miles does not recognize the authority of the Order Divine to conduct Hierian ceremonies.
There are several major chapters of the Forge within Kjellos and one in the region of Craftsman's Reach. The Forge holds its lands directly from King Karhart, and thus owes him their fealty.
All members of the Order of the Forge Divine may receive either the Religion (Haeron) or Blacksmithing NWP for free.
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