The Celts

We are small and friendly multinational guild based on Aquilonia RP-PvP server. We have always been independent and free as a guild and as particular members as well. If you are seeking a non-ganking guild with open-minded people, we are here. Currently we have city with tier 3 keep, armorsmith, weaponsmith, thieve's guild and alchemist. We are regularly raiding with our friends from other guilds. For PvP we fight gankers, those who dare to attack us, doing minigames, or simply duels with other people. Apply here or ask for Celts in game if you are interested.

From the Pages of Cuirear urram air na diathan.

We weren't always the blood lusting warriors that stand before you, once we were brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. The greatest weapons and armours we forged, with the secrets being handed down through the generations, creating such things of beauty and power that they were revered through all of our long forgotten lands. It wasn't always going to be this way, fate had a different plan.

There is a tale told of our origins, myth some say, only our people know the truth for it is passed down to us through the generations, from father to son, mother to daughter, and in the fields it goes hand in hand with the training we receive as warriors. Warriors we may be, but our ancestors knew that a warrior is nothing without his armour and weapons to protect him, so these old secrets are also passed down readying us for our fateful day.

The moon rose high, shining brightly before our young prince went to sleep on that fateful night, Ardal would always remember this night, the night that destiny came calling. The young of our small city in the high mountains were woken with screaming and wretched flames, dragged from their beds by their parents and told to run to the forest at the the bottom of our beloved jewel of a mountain and wait until they were called for, until it was over. Ardal, at the age of 18 took charge of these children and as they reached the forest, turned around to see the moon blotted out by a giant winged form breathing hellfire and destruction down onto the city below.

The king and his subjects fought hard but were unprepared for such a devastating attack, many being crushed under the giant beast's form or eaten while they burnt in the flames of the beasts maw. The king, Ardal's father, took one last stand against the horned beast atop the highest tower of his castle, he fought the dragon with everything he could muster and called forth the power of the sword that had been forged for kings many generations before.

From the forest, Ardal could see the dragon assaulting the highest tower and could just make out his father's tiny form, the devil let out a great burst of flame that engulfed the tower in fire and shadow and all in that forest lost hope. A sudden great light burst from within the flames and a shining beacon sprang forth from the tower, driving the sword into the dragons chest. The scream could be heard from 100 miles away as the dragon writhed in pain, a giant explosion burst atop the mountain as the dragon thudded against the blood covered snow. The tremor caused a mighty avalanche that covered our fair city in snow with nothing but the tower of a kings last stand visible through the drifts.

In the morning the children, led by Ardal, walked to their snow covered home and wept for what they had lost, what were they to do now? Their thoughts would not last long as a huge tremor rumbled beneath them and out of the snow rose the great dragon that had just ruined their lives. Eyes a hellish red, skin glistening of gold yet stronger then steel and in it's chest the king's sword covered with the beasts foul ooze. The dragon stared at Ardal for a second and Ardal ran straight for the sword, but just before he reached it the dragon took to the skies, flying away in an unsteady manner that shadowed the graceful ease the dragon had shown the night before. Ardal shouted "Ti wedi bod yn drraig ddrwg iawn" and swore that he would hunt and destroy the dragon, and if he could never get the beast then his children and his children's children would finish the task. Our ancient secrets were dug out of the snow and stored ready for the day we would need them, the day of Ardal's revenge.

Ardal turned to see the children he led filled with hate and malice and Ardal knew he had discovered his army for the coming hunt. Our ancient secrets, stored and ready and Celt sword and armour would be needed to finish the task at hand. For many generation they hunted the dragon as a nomadic people and even though Ardal's time had passed his promise did not. In the lands that the dragon passed through as it fled our blood lust, many orphans and refugees were left in its wake. The foreign lands we passed through from this 100 year old war brought about new bonds of brotherhood amongst our Nomadic tribe.

After years of searching our scouts came across a man in Cimmeria, a man named Kurtz, he told us of a lair and a shadow in the sky and we knew we had the dragon caught in the mountain range known as Atzels Approach, not unlike our ancient home of old. We began building a new fortress in the Lacheish plains under the instruction of our chief, Macnabit, the last descendant of the Royal bloodline. The secret ways of crafting have been brought out from a slumber ancient and the resources in the area are being gathered. Our cheiftain prepares his men for the final battle to reclaim the ancient sword and bring it to its rightful place at our leaders side and bring about an age of prosperity for our people.