Alison von Markheim

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Alison, Ducal Prize Tournament, 1990 (AS XXV)
Resides: West, Mists (Teufelberg)
Status: Deceased
Awards: Visit the Caid Order of Precedence
Argent, on a pall engrailed sable, seven mullets argent

Baroness Alison von Markheim, OP was the founding Baroness of Dreiburgen. She was elevated to the Order of the Pelican 03/18/1978 by Their Majesties of the West Terrence and Allissandra.

Offices & Positions



Baroness Alison passed on 7/31/2016. Sir Waldt, her husband, and Founding Baron of Dreiburgen has asked that in her honor, all those who feel inclined please either donate blood or make sure your donation card is filled out so that those who might be saved by such donations will be.


Alison was majestic. She entered the room with the same royal grace as tall ship in full sail gliding across the sea. Whether you were a friend or an enemy, you were bound to take notice. She held her head high, turning to neither the right nor the left. Every place she walked, every place she stood became exactly where she should be at that moment. Her long hair entwined in pearls flowed in a way oblivious to the conventions of gravity. Her long. dark dress whipped and twirled in her wake. When she finally took her seat, she swept around and settled in, not so much sitting as enthroning herself. She was offered a drink which she accepted with a barely perceptible nod. She held the crystal glass like she held herself, with an artful and easy dignity. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth bent upward as those around her offered their greetings. Those who had been talking in twos and threes now arranged themselves around her, courtiers attending court. Her husband, Waldt, came in next. He was never far from her. Tall, bearded and broad of chest, he marched in as if at the head of a conquering army. He caught sight of his wife and smiled. She dipped her head in recognition and then blew him a kiss. He took his place beside her, a place that he seemed born to hold. Wine was not his beverage, so he was presented with a brew cold, green and sweet. He sat and crossed one leg over the other. Without looking and without effort, his hand found hers and took it. Her head turned slowly from her conversation to look on him as he returned the greetings of those around him. A small smile passed her lips and she squeezed his hand so gently that none but he would know of it. Then, she returned her attention to her court. ~ Eadwynne of Runedun


Image Preview Award Recipient
AlisonVonMarkheim1.JPG Knight Martin the Temperate