The Most Noble and Esteemed
House of Adrigar
Current Leader of House:Lord-Marquess Sir Daemond Hathford Adrigar II
Houses sworn to House Adrigar:
Founder: Thommeson Haergic Adrigar
Location: The March of Adrigar
Known Loyal Knights:
Grand Inquisitor Rowan Derwintwater
As the legend is told, Thommes Adrigar slew a Werewolf and died in combat with a troupe of Hell Orcs.
And a legend is just what it is- a tale of no merit.
Thommes Adrigar's true story starts with that of the Prince of a long-forgotten and far away place. He, the firstblood of House Adrigar, struck his bloodline into history as a Knight's son and Squire to the long-forgotten Prince Duncan of the Hol'marn of the North and East. Beloved by all his subjects, the Prince, tawny-haired and blue-eyed, denied no man audience and beamed with delight at all hours. Prince Duncan Graywater was the pinnacle of Human perfection to the eyes of the entire Principality, and an astounding heir to the winnowing King. Son of a Knight, and friend of the Prince, Thommes was as yellow-haired as the sun's rays and his face sat with eyes as dark as chestnuts. Thommes' lithe form, emaciated figure, and incompetence had him denied a Knight's grace at the appropriate age. Though a loyal man for years, his devotion was tested each day as his Knighthood was postponed. Jealousy and rage were his downfall and Thommes first signs of loss were the anguish he held at the Knighting ceremonies of his two brothers, Arfeld and Garfunkle. Soon and easily affected by a stranger's biddings, he was promised a thousand and more pieces of gold, and his dagger would draw royal blood.
It was not long for Thommes to act as without pain,
One could hear no sound, no clatter, nor traipse.
as Prince's heartbeat stilled and his neck left red stains
'pon silk pillows and velveteen drapes.
It took merely a day for the man to claim Prince's crest.
Payed a King's ransom in full and a fearful Squire at behest.
Thommes fled to the harbor and paid much for his fare.
There, 'pon fleet of decoys, half a ransom was spared.
The oceans were cruel and tepid that night;
a foul fog choked the air and spoke long of blight.
The ships sped at fortpace and sails at full-blown
No hope could be had as the lightning now flashed,
as the half-knight sweat and fled from his own
No peace could be made as the Lusarian crashed.
He spied the Angel of Death that night. The Grim Reaper looming above the ruined rafters of the RTF Lusarian, with deep, bony sockets glowering at his form.
It was not but a day before Thommes resumed life and paddled, 'pon rotted board, to the lands of Crussaria. More dead than man, he crawled onto the beach with weary eye and soul. Found by a preacher, he would live again in days. Dead was what the friar became as Thommes stabbed his back with a sharp and fine kris. Nine days passed, exactly nine for a fact. Thommes had begun lurking the country seeking needy men who held one thing in common. "Help Wanted."
Seeking for jobs, his found his new trade
As the tool in his hand became a sharp blade.
A ruffian, a trickster, a murderer in deed.
A rider, a journeyman, a courier on steed.
All did he do until one trade found good.
A harlequin, or miller, wearing straw-cap or hood.
An ironic story at best, Thommes was hired to take life, nothing new for his repertoire of now-sixteen years. He was instructed to kill another man, whilst wearing the garb of a clown.
Nothing noted the kill, not a failing or a falling, but somewhere in his mind....
Thommes Adrigar knew murder was his calling.
Money poured in as kills got trickier and rewards grew fatter. Few were victims, but blood always splattered. One mistake marked Thommes career, after one laugh-worthy matter. With son born and wife spent, Thommes was a man conceited with life. It was at this time, with fourty-odd years under his belt that he was slain, by himself. Many've heard the saying "Impaled on his own sword" or a scant few viewed it's birth with: "For 'tis the sport to have the engineer / Hoist with his own petard".
Thommes climbed to a window, of a swamp-shack if anything, to a shutter that clattered causing fair man within to come out to see of the matter. It was not long for fright to be instilled in Thommes that night, as he slipped- fell to the blade he'd left in the bog.
His son knew
him well and thought his father a man of true virtues. With what remained of his fortune, he afforded a castle. Three knights were his freinds for thirty-odd years; Mellinador, Caligo, and Siffon. Unimportant, though vital, they would be the first of the knighthood in the Crussarian soil. Twenty-six years went by and Shem Adrigar fledged a daughter. Nearly of-age that year of Shem's death, she was forced into power over the now-twenty-odd-knights of the House. It was told that day that, should blood thin or fall short, all future leaders, of noble birth or cohort of the house would be of the surname Adrigar, for her father's honor, in short.
That woman wed into a distant cousin of the king and was soon long-in-line for the throne.
The blood descended since then, and thinned as was predicted. For six generations after a failed Adrigar bloodline allowed the Afiligians to take hold with the "Adrigar" title to their names. Though loyal, they are and were overzealous to an extreme point.
By values held, the House controls its bloodlust and merely attacks those of differing faith.
Of certain styles common to the Gothic ideas of a different history they do adore.
To this day, nearly none know of the true
tale of Thommes Adrigar. But his legacy lives oooonnnn.....