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Subject:

By Order of Knight-Lieutenant Rold: Survivors of the Great Blizzard, Muster Here!

The Message:

We few,
We happy few,
We band of bretheren, for years we thrived upon the Lands of the Sacred Turtle, that ancient wanderer who carried our world upon its back. We thought the journey would never end. But a heartless wind blew from the frozen wastes—a Great Blizzard summoned by the Faceless Arbiters of the North. With a stroke of a quill and a breath of ice, they froze the Sacred Turtle’s heart and shattered our world into a thousand shards...

I am Rold, Knight-Lieutenant. I have led many of you through the blood and mud of the old battlegrounds. I have seen the Shell break, but I have not seen your spirits fail. We are refugees no longer but we are the vanguard of what remains. And for that i am chartering a new fellowship: "Knights of the Shattered Shell"!

If you survived the Frost and have washed up on these new shores, report for duty. I wish to know who stands with me.
Submit your Ledger for the Archives:

The Former Name: [How were you known before the Great Frost?]
The New Identity: [What name do you carry in the new land?]
Deeds of Old: [What was your greatest accomplishment or rank upon the Shell?]
Doctrine of War: [Do you seek the blood of rivals (PvP) or the heads of monsters (PvE)?]
The Chronicler’s Soul (RP): [Do you carry our stories forward, or do you fight in silence?]
The Burden of the Past: [What single relic or memory did you carry away from the Shell before the Frost took it?]
The Knight’s Vow: [Will you draw steel to defend a stranger, or does your blade only move for coin and glory?]
A Taste for Ale: [Where might one find you when the march is over—the tavern, the library, or the training grounds?]
The Path Ahead: [What is your purpose in this new world?]

The Sacred Turtle is dead, but it's knights still draw breath. We have survived the storm. Now, we reform the lines...

Call to Arms!
— Rold, Knight-Lieutenant

Rold, Knight-Lieutenant.
You ask for ledgers, so here is mine.
I was Jape before the Frost, and I am Jape still.
Some men take a new name when the world changes. I prefer to let the world suffer the old one twice.

On the old Shell, my finest work was not carved into stone, sung by drunkards, or blessed by anyone wearing clean robes. It was counted in coin. By the time most men were still begging merchants for fair prices, I had lifted enough gold from loose belts and careless hands to buy myself a pair of Gutrippers and have them properly enchanted.
A sentimental purchase, really.
They helped people die faster.

As for war, I do not see the point in choosing between rivals and monsters. Monsters carry skins. Rivals carry coin. Both bleed well enough if you open them correctly.

You ask whether I carry stories forward or fight in silence. I will answer by pointing out that I am answering you in public, with style, and against my better judgment. Make of that what you will.

The burden I carried from the past is simple: a desire to get ahead, stay ahead, and enjoy the view from above the people who thought they were my betters.

My vow is not knightly. My blade does not move because a stranger needs defending. It moves for coin, glory, amusement, and the occasional opportunity to correct someone who has mistaken a loud mouth for a spine. Should I save a man on the road, he should not thank me too quickly. I may have only disliked his attacker more.

When the march is over, you will find me where profit has wandered too far from witnesses. On the road, mostly. Robbing fools, killing problems, skinning beasts, and making an honest living out of dishonest work.

My purpose in this new world is clear enough.
To be the most infamous rogue it has ever produced.

As for your Knights of the Shattered Shell, I wish you luck. Truly. Every order needs banners, vows, ranks, and men willing to stand in straight lines.
I am simply happier behind them.

— Jape