Some small backstory. I'm linking the Haerthorne and Ademar family as Marche and his brothers being descended from Aerywyn Haerthorne (first character) via his son Caim, who died in disgrace and whose wife remarried, taking her new husbands name and passing it onto her young children.
Roleplay from Marche Ademar (just sent)
Message sent to everyone in the region Ipsosez (61 recipients)
Atop the head of the column of soldiers the enormous banner of the Arcaean Empire flew, larger than any banner Marche had ever seen before. It had been kept largely furled for the duration of the march until the army was sure that the enemy would soon see it, and upon a command from either the Emperor or one of his cohorts it was let loose, a myriad of crests trailing in the wind above the soldiers, emblazoned at the base of the six-man tall symbol of the empire herself, the blue and blazing gold of the Pheonix Crown. For a while he walked in awe, trying to guess at all the different houses and lands which were signified as loyal by their presence on that banner, almost failing to notice the ancient fortress of Ipsosez itself baring the remains of its legendary glory forth from the shattered basalt walls of the mountains.
Neither did it fail to impress him, but he drew up a stern face to not seem boyish or naive. Though he was young all of this did not bow him low but bore up even stronger the knowledge that he would have that this was a world which he would only deserve if he could match these sights with his own spiritual fortitude.
The fortress of Ipsosez blazed in the evening sun like mottled, burnished clay, seeming to appear on fire. Though many of its walls were crumbling and the defences were a far cry from what they must of been in the days of Svunnetland, they still endured with some majesty and demanded respect. The whole experience was doing something to him, ever since he had passed through Topenah and seen the situation there, read the records of his grandfather...
When the lines of Arcaea, Coralynth, Sorraine and Zonasa arranged themselves before the walls the army sounded like they were being sucked into a void in trepidation of the clash which was to erupt soon, even if they sound of so many thousands would have had to be deafening. Marche and his unit were preparing for their part in the assault with Coralynth’s men of the Dark Isle. Captains barked orders to their soldiers and the noble knights of the Arcaean Empire stood ready with their units to plunge up that rise to the citadel which had been taken by their foe. He did not know if Kindara or Cathay were as bad as he had been taught to believe. What he knew was that this was his chance to prove himself better than his peers. Strong enough to fulfil the gaping hole in the legacy of his family, left behind by the deaths of her noblest and greatest.
Lucky that his eyes were fixed ahead lest any see what dangerous and youthful flames they held.
And oh how he wished to be amongst the ranks of his true-born family. He was an Arcaean, no matter where he was, no matter who he served. He was a Haerthorne, no matter what the name he held was.
Thus Marche felt as he fought in the first battle of his young life.
