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Post by Knights of the Black Cross on Sept 12, 2023 13:56:08 GMT -5
The Official Headquarters of the Knights of the Black Cross
The heart of the Twin Cities echoed with the rhythmic clatter of hammers striking nails and the muffled thuds of bricks being carefully set into place. At the heart of this bustling activity stood the nascent fortress, the future headquarters of the Brotherhood, a grand edifice of red brick rising from the ground like a phoenix emerging from the ashes. The complex, although still a work in progress, already bore the unmistakable hallmarks of Vessian craftsmanship. Its walls, constructed of sturdy red bricks, held the promise of enduring strength. The bricklayers, their hands weathered from labor, expertly stacked each brick in place, forming walls that would one day stand tall against any threat. Tall wooden scaffolds surrounded the structure, allowing artisans to access every corner of the fortress's façade. As the sun's golden rays bathed the scene in a warm glow, the bricklayers and builders toiled ceaselessly, driven by a shared sense of purpose. A massive gatehouse was beginning to take shape, its twin towers flanking a wide archway that would one day welcome knights and visitors alike. Above the arch, the stonecarvers etched intricate patterns and religious symbols, a testament to the Brotherhood's unwavering faith. The courtyard within was a busy thoroughfare, filled with the clamor of smiths crafting iron gates and armor for the knights. Sturdy oak beams lay stacked nearby, ready to be fashioned into strong wooden doors and internal support structures. As one ventured deeper into the complex, the foundations of the chapel were evident, its outline framed by stone columns and arched windows. It was destined to be a place of solemn reflection and worship, a sanctuary where the Brotherhood would seek divine guidance and spiritual solace. Overseeing the construction was a master builder, his gray beard flecked with sawdust, and a group of senior knights who had donned their surcoats of white with black crosses. Their stern expressions belied their satisfaction at seeing their vision gradually taking form. Despite the ongoing construction, the Brotherhood's headquarters radiated an aura of purpose and anticipation. It was a symbol of their commitment to the Twin Cities, a testament to their resolve to protect it, and a monument to their unwavering faith. And as the red-brick complex continued to rise, it stood as a promise—of safety, of unity, and of a future where the Brotherhood would stand as guardians of their beloved city. Komtur Adrian can usually be found directing the goings-on of the Knights, while Hochmeister Godwin is more commonly found in the Eastern March. |
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Rudiger Dornmauer
Established
Roleplay posts: 23 
Age: 35
Appearance: Rudiger is tall at 6'3", and muscularly built from his profession. His skin is weathered from his life on the road, with the first wrinkles of age appearing at the sides of his mouth and his eyes have given way to several more. Thick calluses on his right hand from wielding his sword have grown thicker from continuous use over the years. His light brown hair, once sheered to a fade parted on the right side, has grown out longer and has been joined by a healthy snowfall of gray. His strong chin that was once covered by thick goatee has been shaved to stubble, but his thick mustache has remained. His most prominent feature is a thick scar and his missing left eye, which he covers with a tan eyepatch, which he lost in a fight with a bear.
Equipment: Rudiger wears a variety of clothes, depending on the situation. For battle, he wears a worn, red gambeson underneath steel plate armor which has seen better days, being dented in several places and rusted from time spent in the waves. He wears a bellow faced sallet helm, though the visor can stand to be hammered back into proper shape. He wields a mace, his hand and a half sword being rusted into its scabbard. The kite shield of old has been lost in the storm.
When he's not in battle, he wears a white wool shirt, and thick woolen black pants. He always wears his tan riding boots.
Bob the destrier remains by his side, the heavy wooden saddle with a high cantle and pommel covered in thick leather being a bit worse for wear.
Skills and Abilities: Rudiger was born into a minor noble family in the Grand Duchy of Voruta, who were simple knights in the service of the kingdom. Rudiger was born as a second son, so he had no hope of inheriting the family estate, but he was still raised in the arts of war. He proved to be gifted with the use of the sword and shield, and being a naturally talented rider. His skill with the sword and shield has only grown from his occupation of Knight Errant.
Biography: Rudiger is not idealistic, but not pessimistic either. He believes in the rule of law, unless those laws are unjust. He believes in a higher power, but he doesn't go to Church. His whole belief system can be distilled to a single sentence: Do good, avoid evil. He strives to do at least one good turn daily, and seeks to protect the innocent. His last memories were of a long ago adventure with Khepri and Roxanne, though the details are somewhat fuzzy to him.
Registered: Sept 10, 2023 14:35:29 GMT -5
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Post by Rudiger Dornmauer on Sept 15, 2023 19:23:12 GMT -5
It was not too hard to find the climbing red brick walls, growing every day towards the heavens a few inches at a time until they began to grow above the cottages surrounding them. Even for the weary to the bones Rudiger, leading the faithful Bob who had happily crunched down the apple from the receptionist in a few mouthfuls, he could find it with some ease. Though he was a fair bit jealous of his horse since he had not eaten since the last bit of bread crust they had split while adrift, and his stomach reminded him of it with a nasty cramping. Still he refused to ride Bob until they both had a proper rest and meal, it would put undue strain on the poor beast.
With a hesitating step from hunger he stopped at the still ungated entrance, and waited for a guardsman to notice him before he would inquire for a potential job. It was easy to see from the ragged faces that he crossed on his way here that work was needed to be done, and the only charity being at the docks. Seeing as he was no farmer he would be of little help in the fields, and Bob was built for the din of steel on steel, not for pulling the plow. So there was but one chance for him, "My arms are battered... but I was a knight before... is there room for one more Sir?"
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