Les Maisnees del Vis****e d'Iveri

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Sergeant Knight


La feid seit vostre escuz, li dreiz seit vostre espee
(Let your faith be your shield and justice your sword)


Les Maisnees del Vis****e d'Iveri with the objective to protect the Visquens d'Iveri from any harm that may come to him and to fight and serve alongside him while the Visquens himself, serves as an officer to the Quens d'Iveri, Rodbert, but the Visquens will fight for the greater glory of Normandy and our patron, St Ouen.

The banner of the Visquens is coloured red with a golden lion emblazoned on it. The lion serves to remind those travelling that the men carrying the banner are powerful men who will stop at nothing to fight for what they believe in. On the Visquens' personal shield there are two lions one on the left of the crown and one on the right of the crown.​


We Normans seek glory, riches and plunder. We loot the English town, villages, cities! We kill all who opposes us.​


We are not a brotherhood but we are household troops united under one cause, to bring the crown onto our dukes head! We march together, we fight together. We Die Together if we must! We are all one!​


Our expansion will be vast. Nothing will stop us, not even the Vikings, not even the Scots, not even the French. God will grant Dux Willelme victory!​




La descente des Vis****es d'Iveri
Rodbert li Honuranz (1002-1037)
Willelme li Bastarz (1030-)


The Death of Rodbert li Honuranz


War was in the air in Normandy. Choas reigned over the land. Ever since the death of Dux Rodbert, his young bastard son, Willelme, had been hiding, never safe. Numerous rebellious barons and other nobles had thought of try and gaining the seat of Normandy for themselves. The Quens d'Iveri had already decided to go against the Dux, and all his lessers had followed, except for one: Rodbert filz Gerald, known as Rodbert li Honuranz for his loyalty to the previous Dux. He, too, like the former Dux had a bastard son, also known as Willelme, and the young boy had been trained to be a shrewd commander as well as a greater fighter. Rodbert was a soldier that lead by example, but he was not blinded by blood-crazed love of war, not like the Vikingar far north, where Rodulf, the first Dux de Normandie had come across the treachous seas and had signed the Treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte and Normandy was born. Rodbert had always loved those stories: stories of adventure and he had passed that love to his bastard son and heir, Willeme li Bastarz. The Visquens had also taught his son the ways of religion, since Rodbert was a firm warrior of St Ouen, the patron saint of Normandy, he had taught Willelme to be one too, making sure that St Ouen was with him at all times and that he would guide him to victory if he showed his devotion to him. Finally, however, and most importantly of all, Rodbert always told Willelme to uphold the code of the household:

La feid seit vostre escuz, li dreiz seit vostre espee

'Let your faith be your shield and justice your sword' Rodbert would say. But, one day, on a damp spring day in Anno Domini 1037, Willelme's life would change, forever.

The rain was falling, the drops thundering on the roofs of the town. Not many were out doing business but had decided to stay inside the safety of their houses. It was a good job they did. Outside the city walls, a hundred men were forming outside, armed with mail coifs, short mail hauberks with swords and shields. The clouds of the day obscured the sun, disallowing the iron to gleam in the day, but it did not matter. The man leading them was the owner of Ivry, the Quens himself. Wearing a longer version of the mail hauberk, he had on his head a segemented helmet as well as his mail coif. This gave added protecting to his head against sword cuts. They were mounted on fine horses, worthy of rich men. They rode into town, the guard sentries standing to attention as he rode passed. The Quens had been away discussing how to rule Normandy with one of the lead barons, as by now, the young true Dux Willelme de Normandie, had been gone for two years and now the barons tended to strike and to gain power. The Visquens of Ivry however would not accept this. Rodbert had ordered his small band of household troops to kill the sentries of the Quens' castle and although the Quens could enter the town, his castle was closed, the gate shut with Visquens Rodbert controlling it. Rodbert knew he was against the odds but he also knew that the Quens would break the oath to Willelme and Rodbert would not accept being a follower of a breaker of oaths and he decided, with St Ouen hopefully watching him from above, he would hold the barons here and send a message to Normandy.
Civil war was now set.

"Open this gate, Rodbert! You are my lesser!" The Quens shouted up at the tower in which Rodbert looked down. The Visquens was a handsome man, barely a scar on him despite him being in many battles. He had very dark red hair and with his hair shaven at the back. His segemented helmet, painted red and gold, were being held by his brother, Arnulf who was eight years younger then Rodbert but he too was still a proud warrior although he was not as devoted to religion as his older brother was.
"You are the lesser before St Ouen, Quens! You betray our true Dux, Willelme, and St Ouen believes you are a lesser of me!" Rodbert replied.
"May you be punished then, Rodbert. You will not last long there, Rodbert. I will not allow you to escape this treachery!"
"Treachery? This is not treachery! This is defending against treachery!"
"May your soul burn in hell, Rodbert!" And with that, negotiations were over. Blood would now be spilt.
The Quens began his attack by gathering wood from the marketplace and using citizens who would gladly help their liege lord for some money, started to build siege ladders. After that, they prepared to scale the Bailey part of the castle, hoping to minimise losses. However, inside the castle, Rodbert had too built a ladder, but not to scale anything, but to allow people to escape. He ordered his brother Arnulf, his wife Aveline and his son and heir, Willelme, to leave.
"Please, Rodbert, come with us!"
"I can't, my dove. I have a duty to do and I need to follow it through. I do not want you to get caught in my actions and I do not want to see you suffer because of what I choose to do. Get out of here!"
"Dove, if you love me, if you have ever loved me, please, leave here. I will not see you die by my hands."
Aveline nodded and embraced her husband and Rodbert stroked her golden hair before kissing her and then after saying his farewells to his brother and his son, the three departed by the ladder that was lowered at the rear of the castle. While they would escape, Rodbert would do his duty he had set himself to do and he would try and hold his evil Quens here.
In the Quens' own castle.

The laddermen ran forward at a pace, the rain hammering as hard as nails on the men's helmets. As they came within a hundred paces of the walls, the devil's music played. A couple of thumps as the bolts were launched at the laddermen. Two were hit; one in the throat and he gurgled his blood as he slowly died; the second one had his bolt sticking out of his chest and with a curse to the crossbowmen above, he died. Rodbert had not very men, around a dozen and he had to use those men to the greatest possible effect he could. The two crossbowmen, Aldri and Baldri, reloaded their crossbowmen, bending down as they with great strength, heaved the cord back allowing them to fit the bolt before bringing themselves back up and releasing the bolt that would whistle into the enemy ranks, causing panic and death to the enemy. However, despite the losses, the laddermen crew were strong enough to bring the ladder to the wooden walls. The Quens ordered his men forward, telling them run at a pace. Rodbert saw the danger and he ordered Gerart and Ansger to form up alongside him, while the crossbowmen kept firing, hoping to get a lucky shot and to kill a man that had not brought his kite shield up or was not aware of where he was. Rodbert counted at least five enemies dead before the first of the Quens' soldiers climbed the ladder. He had put his kite shield behind his back, to make climbing easier, but that proved to be a mistake as Baldri fired a bolt which cut through the head as easily as knife through butter and the poor soul fell down dead within a second. Rodbert shouted a praise to Baldri before steadied himself up as two more of his houshold troops, Henri and Herbert, came to support their leader and they stood behind him with their spears raised. Rodbert focused on the first man ahead of him, bring his sword up at him then shoving his shield forward and unbalancing the man, almost making him fall off the wall. The man tried to do the same trick to Rodbert but Henri used an overhead thrust to kill him.
By afternoon, after an hour after the assault began, the front walls still were being held by men of the Visquens. The Quens, in despiration, called the town sentries and with a little luck, they had bought a small catapult and they used it, as they fired a rock at the Bailey. The Visquens realised this new threat and ordered that his men retreat to the motte for one final stand. The Quens had been reluctant at ordering the use of a catapult but he believed it was more important for Rodbert to die then his castle to be in a good condition. After half an hour, a breach was made and the Quens issued his men to go forward and Rodbert by now had settled himself in the Motte. His enemy charged at his men, using axes to break down the door and with some effort, they snapped open but then the axemen were attacked as Rodbert and his men counter-attacked, killing most of the axemen with blood and steel. The swordsmen came next and the attack was savage and brutal and most of Rodbert's men lay dead as he retreated upwards to the stairs of the motte as they would wind upwards. His crossbowmen were still up there, sounding the devil's harp as they fired into any enemy they saw. But now, Rodbert realised they were all doomed. Gerart had been taken prisoner by the enemies, Henri and Herbert dead and the rest of his household all doomed. Rodbert put that thought to one side as his enemy came and he threw himself at him, slashing at the shield before opening a gap in his enemy's defence and he cut him down, the sword breaking through the mail, chinks of it seperating as the sword went through. Another man came for Rodbert and the Visquens' sword was knocked out of his hands and he drew his knife and he thrusted it forward, aiming for the open area in the helmet and he succeed, the blood spurting out of his eye and dripping itself on Rodbert's mail hauberk. Baldri had been killed with a sword thrust to the guts and now Rodbert was alone. He then saw his enemy, the Quens. He brought his sword to Rodbert's throat. Using his knife, Rodbert brought the sword upwards then ducked to avoid his enemies' sword swing and then stabbed his knife at the Quens' sword arm, blood pouring out as the Quens lost grip of his sword and Rodbert pushed his advantage and brought blow after blow on the Quens. Suddenly, a great pain was felt in his spine and a evil warrior had brought his spear into Rodbert's back. The Quens picked himself up and retrieved his sword and once more, brought in to the Visquens' throat.
"May St Ouen help your soul, Quens" Rodbert muttered then dropped down dead.

Ivry has never known such a brave man and Willelme, his son, would later bury him. Rodbert's family briefly lost the seat of Visquens of Ivry, but it was later regained after the victory at Val-es-Dunes. Despite it being nearly twenty years ago, Willelme and Ivry can never forget the day, when Rodbert stood against impossible odds. He was later known as Rodbert li Honuranz, not just for his loyalty, but for his beliefs and his honour.


Hom de la Maisnee

Visquens Willelme
Willelme was born a bastard. His father, Rodbert li Honuranz was the former Viscounty of Ivry, but his mother was maid in Caen. His early childlife was hard as many of Willelme's kinsman wanted to take advantage that he was a Bastard and claim the county but after many years fighting, Willelme kept his seat of office. He has been a faithful vassal of Dux Willelme and he fought alongside the Duke at Val-es-Dunes. Now he is ready for whatever his liege lord wants and if that is to cross the seas and conquer England, so be it. Willelme rides a feared mount which he named, Engle-Killer. He has had the mount for almost 5 years and they have been together on many adventures.

Albert was born to a rich family in Normandy. He had been friends with William since the age of 4 but after Willelme had to work hard to gain the county and he had no time for frienship, Albert was friendless. However, they were reunited and Albert was one of Willelme's knights at Vales-Et-Dun. Now Marc is ready to kill the English to help his friend's liege lord get the crown of England.

Skvor was born in to a poor family in the lands of Bohemia. He lived a terrible child life and when he grew up was banished from his home town. He decided to seek out a new homeland and he arrived in Normandy. He signed up for the army just after Duke William and Visquens Willelme, Skvor's lord, had returned from a successful campaign. Now with his skills refreshed and with a new home and life, Skvor is set to board the ships and sail with the Army to England. Skvor was the Broken Spear Champion for the month of April 2012.

Born in the Holy Roman Empire, in the Duchy of Fraken, he has trained in the arts of the spear, Osbern has been a fine spearmen and served under Willelme at Val-Es-Dunes where he and a squad of spearmen held off a rebel Norman Cavalry attack. Spearmen is a great unit and a very good weapon in the hands of a good men at arms. Can Osbern prove his worth as he sets sail with William to take England?

Drogue was born in Normandy in Rouen, but his family went to Kent, to try and make a living. He is known as the English Devil, for doing cruel things to the English people. He fled to Normandy and to the safety of Quens Willelme d'Iveri with his friend Gundulf. He now preapres to wage a war he has already begun in a personal way.

Gundulf is friends with Drogue. He has killed Welsh people for 25 years and desires nothing less to kill Welsh. He hopes that once William is King of England and his lord reapes then rewards, he will wage war in Wales so he can kill the people he loaths.

Einjar is famed for his throwing skills, he has won 3 tournaments during his stay in Normandy. He left as Duke William and Quens Willelme defeated the rebel army at Val-Es-Dunes. As soon as he heard that William was to invade England, he signed up at Iveri to be in the service of Quens Willelme. He fights for his duke and lord as well as a fight for gold, will that be enough to make him live through it?

The young warrior, Serle, was known for killing a host of men during one of Duke William's many campaigns, and since been rewarded with joining under William's most faithful vassal, an offer he cannot refuse. Now in the year 1066, Serle will hop on ships bound for England to fight a bloody campaign against the Saxons, will he survive though?

Alaric was born on the east lands of Germans, from his childhood he choose the way of the warrior. His way was full of battles which were the essential part of his life. But then he decided to be a mercenary and left his homeland heading to the cold north. He took part in many battles with danes, he was in the Scotland, England and Ireland. But many things changed, and now he came to the Willelme d'Iveri's company.

Gerveis was a young warrior born in the town of Evereux itself and he grow up to master the perfection of a sword, how to swing it to cause blood to flow, how to cause to maim someone and of course, how to cause death quickly and swiftly. Being born in Evereux, he was forced to be enlisted into the army but has never dissapointed the young Visquens, Willelme. But crossing the channel will prove if Gerveis has enough skill to survive.

Malger was born a soldier, and he has been one for most of his life, taking his vows to Willelme at the age of 14 and since then has trained to have mastery over the sword and has one many minor tournaments in other Norman castles. It is also where he got his fiery temper which has been unable to escape him. Grizzled now, he will follow his liege lord across the channel.

Balduin was born from a poor family in the smelly streets of Ivry and to try and get money, he trained to be a warrior and at the age of fifteen, he bowed before Visquens Willelme and offered his services. Balduin has since become a strong warrior with a distaste for cavalry, something Willelme loves, espically when he rides Engle-Killer. Despite this, Balduin is a loyal soldier, ready for whatever the world can throw at him.

Gerart was a tough-nonsense classical soldier of the Ivry household troops. Wielding the norman sword, he aims to plant the sword deep into the guts of his enemies and cause panic amongst the enemy ranks. Born in Ivry itself, he signed up to Rodbert li Honuranz but then when he died, he quickly supported the young Willelme. Now, with this good sense of loyalty, Willelme orders him to follow him into battle against the enemy.

Erkembalt was a young warrior with a strong arm, built for using a sword. Born in Ivry, he bowed before the young Visquens Willelme and has been a loyal enough supporter. However, sometimes he will seek his own ambitions, but tries to keep it secret, yet Erkembalt does not know that Willelme knows his secret.

Boemund was born in Cherbourg. Like his father and all his ancestors he became a fisherman, and sail on the great sea during 15 years. When he was 35 years old, his wife Mathilde and his son Turstin died during the famine that stroked Cherbourg in the cold winter. After their lost, he heard that the lords of Normandy were recruiting men for their campaigns. He swore his loyalty to the duke and to the visquens Willelme at the end of his 38th year.


Events Les Maisnees del Vis****e d'Iveri have been in

This is mainly on the third event, thanks to Celtic for giving me this idea (even though he did it himself before me)  :grin:

A cold winter's day. No snow in the air, but the cold brisk was brewing. The young Duke stroked his blond hair back. William stared around, then forward to what opposed him. A massive wooden fortress, with the Engle in the distance, banging their shields. He drawed his shield and his axe, gripping the shield with his right hand and the war axe in his grip on his left arm. William was a left handed man but gave some advantages in one to one combat against right handers.
"My Duke, Jarl Thor order's are to stay with his Erlingars." reported Edelmunt. Drawn in from the Holy Roman Empire, this was his first test. As were for most of these battle hardened men, William commanded. Then, the Erlingars advance. The FenrisBarn close at their side.
"That is our order to advance, stick close the Jarl." William told his men, as they too advanced. Bashing their shields, they advanced at a steady pace with the FenrisBarn close. To the viking left there was the mercenaries from the Kievan Rus. A Large group of them they were. But the centre made the most noise. Then out from the skies can the wish from an arrow. "Shields up!" William ordered. But the arrow proved nothing, hitting near Oga's foot. The Jarl ordered the centre to run, to reach the gate before they were to be engulfed by arrows. They reached the gate, immediately the axes of the Fenris and the Erlingar bashing it, with William's men close by. "Duke, there is an archer to the left!" William looked and saw a lone archer on the left tower from the gate. "Cover the men, shieldwall!" William told his men to form a shieldwall to cover the men.
"Keep it up William. Don't let that archer kill us all. We need to destroy the gate!" Suddenly, a bash and the slow falling of the gate. The Vikings yelled a warcry and charged thorugh the gate. But no English to stop them. A few tried to escape from the walls. "Oga, Edelmunt, Skvor. Stop those men from reaching safety. Kill them and meet up near the well." William went with English and Welsh Devil with the rest of the men. The Duke looked behind him and saw his friend Ualraig and his Fir Araig with the local mercenaries. "Good to see you still alive Ualraig."
"As to you, William."
They continued moving upwards. Still no Engle resistence. When the Engle going to stop us? thought William. But he was glad they hadn't tried to stop his men at the gate. They would have been a slaughter. Skvor, Oga and Edelmunt returned with no blood on their weapons. "What happened? I see no blood. I ordered you to kill those men." Skvor sighed then spoke up.
"My Duke, they were too quick. They have retreated to where the Engle will try to stop us." Skvor pointed above the brow of the hill. William moved forward and saw a huge stone bridge where stood the Engle shieldwall. The front row was the Fyrninga. The honourable men of England. William respected these men as being fierce but to have honour in these dark times. Thor stood next to the Duke.
"I will go ask for their surrender. They seem battered and weak." Thor stepped forward dropping his Clontraf and shield. "Men of England. You have lost your battle. You have lost most of your town. You should law down your weapons and surrender to me and my Viking Horde. It will be a much better way and you shall live. What do you say." Then the shields opened and a Engle threw his axe at Thor. William rushed blocking the axe with his shield. Then stood in front of his men the Earl of the English, Eadric Fyrninga.
"That is our counter-offer. We will not surrender. You must kill us all or you will die. All of you." The Vikings marched forward beating their shields. Thor gaining his arms marched forward. A blood curdeled cry came from both sides, then the Vikings hit the Engle shield. The Vikings dare not look down, for down was certain doom as two Engles discovered as they died from breaking their legs. English archers fired deadly arrows from the top of the stairway which was just after the end of the bridge.
The Vikings were too many. The Engle were pushed back. It was all a blur. Eadric the Earl was wounded and his men tried to drag him away before being killed themselves. William and his men still fought on. Reaching the top of the hill many of the Vikings celebrated. But William and Ualraig raced down the hill to kill the rest of the Engle that were trying to run away. They all died. William and his men had been through the worst of it, and were ready for more battles.

Extract from The Age Of Blood: Ðéodloga book, Chapter 3

"Come and get me, you Norman Bastard," Guthmund taunted which made Willelme growl in anger. "I am not afraid of you, you son of a whor...." Willelme thrusted the sword deep into Guthmund's chest, unallowing him to finish his sentence.
"**** you, you worthless piece of ****!" Willelme replied at the corpse of Guthmund. The Norman troops shouted at the Engle and charged off down at the Engle wall which buckeled under the strain and gave way before a massacre of blood and steel happened. The Engle ran across the southern wall, casting their weapons down to make sure the Normanz did not catch them and disemballow them or mutilate them, as most Normanz were famous for doing. Willelme pulled out his blade from Guthmund's chest before a great pain was felt in his right shoulder. He gasped as a javelin was lodged into his shoulder. The armour might have saved his life, but the pain was unbearable. He grabbed the javelin and pulled out the throwing spear, screaming as a hell as he was dislodging it. He continued to advance and as he ordered some of his men to capture the marketplace, he casted his eye at the southern wooden bridge and could not believe his eyes. "Oh ****!" he exclaimed as he saw a whole warband of Saxons come rushing over the wooden bridge and charged a semi-formed wall by the Regis Bannum. Willelme rushed in, his two loyal bodyguards, Serle and Osbern following right behind. He raised his sword in an attack position and ran at a pony-tailed Saxon who was caught off his guard as Willelme grabbed hold of the man's neck and sliced his sword at his neck the blood forcing to dribble down his shirt. He let the dying man go from the Duke's strangle and the pony-tailed man slowly and painfully died, choking on his own blood. It may have been a barbaric act but it was general business for a Norman like Dux Willelme. Willelme rushed forward, but as he did, he fell to the ground, clutching his head. A javelin and lodged itself in his veiled helmet, at the top and the impact and been so great that the iron-tipped javelin and wedged itself through the helmet and caused a small trickle of blood from the Duke's head. For the second time of the day, Willelme dislodged the javelin but found it was too dangerous to do so, as it was risking his own life to do so. Malgerius, the pious archbishop of Rouen, came to help his wounded Duke. With great care, the javelin was dislodged and Willelme was able to continue as normal, despite having a small dent in his veiled helmet. He faced an opponet he recognised in the battle the day before; the day where Willelme had fooled Eadric into a trap.


Thank you Eadric, Ualraig and other members of the Vikingr Community for their help in setting up the clan and giving me ideas on how to improve it.​
Thank you, The Last Kingdom team, for the golden dividers.​
Thank you Skvor for the beautiful artwork, banner and other stuff.
Thanks Smiley for the excellently drawed map.​


Sergeant Knight at Arms

I welcome "The Army of the Bastard" onto the feild of battle!

Good luck with this, William!


Sergeant Knight at Arms

May I suggest you watch the "1066: The Battle for Middle-Earth" docu-drama. One of my favourates peices of television I have ever watched.


Sergeant Knight
I have about 100 times. I know the lines from the Battle of Hastings off by earth. One of the pictures is actually from that programme.


Sergeant Knight at Arms
Yeah, I saw that picture and wasn't sure if you had seen it or just used the image! :grin:

I LOVE that program.


Master Knight
Good luck with this :smile:

I would try to save the banner in a bit higher quality though, this one suffers quite badly from jpg artefacts.
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