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  3. Hyphae Returns from Sojourn After his three year long journey, Amadis Faedi returns to the Kingdom of Elysium in the prime age of 20; just in time for his adopted sister, Delilah's, birthday. Little did Amadis know, with much regret to his decisions, would be be dining with an antitheist. It had started with returning home. Amadis could not wait to relax next to the centre fountain of townhall. With arms and legs heavy, he plopped himself down to the stone rims. Before the Mali boy could get any rest, his lovable sister that he had not seen in years greeted him with a tight hug. They were now both grown up and older, something Amadis would never get used to. For the years he had been gone, he had felt that his relationship with Delilah had changed drastically. No longer did he feel the overwhelming sense of brotherhood and strong connections to the girl. Rather, he had felt distant; as if being gone for 3 years was enough to build that wall between them. Without thought, Amadis had ended up joining his sister and her mentor Elend Odinson to embark on a journey to an unfamiliar manor for dinner. What kind of dinner? Delilah's birthday dinner that he had completely forgotten. Well, there was no blaming the poor boy, he couldn't even remember the host's name. He kept calling her "Mary" the entire evening, and was always corrected once doing so. Continuing, Amadis was at least prepared with gifts from the East. With a bouquet of Peonies for the host who had taken well care of his sister and a necklace for the birthday girl Delilah. With his presence of an unexpected guest, and full on devotee to the gods of the forest, Amadis certainly felt unwelcomed to the lovely evening spent with the three. The obnoxious crunching Elend did was outrageously hilarious; but of course Amadis had to hold his laughter as Mary held her silverware with the great intent to stab one of them in the neck. In the end, the night ended with the talk of Aenguls and balance, and farewells were certainly made before everyone left to do their own. Once again, Amadis abandons his sister for the great adventures that awaited him far beyond the game of chess.
  4. tbh at a certain point it would like make sense for stuff to advance technologically as a roleplay dynamic and a lore narritive but it should be like more of a steampunky retro futuristic instead of copying how stuff happened in our world
  5. Edvard Kervallen Heial’mal Valmi’uhier Anarore, Court Mage of the Palati Monterosa Mister Edvard Kervallen teaches on the subjects of voidal theory and smithing, with undeniable experience as a Court Mage as he'd previously worked within the Arcanic Court of the late Empress, Anastasia I and had been a Court Mage under Ebonwood. His way of teaching is task-oriented, setting a task that must be completed in order to unlock your next lesson, alongside the lessons being open-questions. He may be contacted via bird for a meet-up. [Msg ECS1999 or dm on their discord, EduardC11#9634]
  6. 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 Gaisorix hal'Iskraduron encountered Maciej and Stanislaw Jazloviecki on his travels to Vienne. As he peddled his wares in the city's plaza, he overheard them recollecting details from the summit. He led his horse at an easy trot over to the two Lechians and introduced himself. The exchange, curt and pleasant, gave details regarding the pact. The Cinged elder found himself delighted by the news of the events and continued on travelling city to city to sell his goods and entreat with customers and citizens alike. Gaisorix hal'Iskraduron returned from one of his many travels as a Cinged merchant peddling wares and selling goods of varying quality. He removed his helmet, an iron cap with a black bear's head mounted on top and its furs and claws draped over Gaisorix's shoulders, and parted his matted hair before announcing, "Ehm' Gaisorix, as ye' all know. Ehm' in meh' fiftehs bot' served in t'Great War when Haense, Oren, & Urguan all fought. Eh've got good experience and a good axe-arm. Ehm' a Highlander, specifically ov' t'Cingedoz tribe. We already spoke on t'is at t'Narada bot' makin' sure ye' know t'at the Cingedoz will participate in t'Clansguard." A Cinged youth, in his teens, ran up to Gaisorix and swapped helmets. Gaisorix put on the new helmet, a bronze cap with two rounded crests inlaid with coral and made of beaten silver.
  7. Why? Nothing makes sense anymore Everyone who says they are your friend just ignore you A person who gets your note then never returns your bird has you thinking, why? Things feel so complicated and troublesome. Even love just seems to turn its back to you. I don't understand any of it at all. I feel so much weight and no one comes to my help. What do I do? Why are things like this for me? Just why? Untitled Will I ever feel someone hold me? Will I ever have my first kiss? Will I ever get a date? What is so wrong with me I don't understand it. Beauty of Vienne, you say, I say undead creature Scars cover the whole right side of my face down to my neck. A simple scar on my left cheek, who would love that? I distract myself with poems and now a play. Yet I wonder do I even have friends out there to care for me like I do them? Don't seem that way to me, what is the point in all this. I just don't know. I see people around me getting married, having children loving life. Me? I just wonder the streets alone. Never held a hand My brother is happy at least, I am happy for him too Time will tell
  8. THE ROYAL TOUR AN EXPLORATION OF THE HAESENI VASSALS KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the THE CROWN On this 11th day of Jula ag Piov of 427 ES Va Birodeo Herzenav To properly serve, one must be acquainted with the full realm that they reign over. As such, a month following their coronation, their majesties shall embark on a full vassal tour. Each landed peer of the Dual Monarchy is asked to prepare for the arrival of the reigning pair. The King and Queen shall remain within each vassal for a month at a time, during which the family shall be granted a private audience with their Majesties, and the opportunity to raise any grievances, or plans for the future that may present themselves. The vassals shall be toured in the following order: The Duchy of Reinmar, home to the Ducal House of Barclay The Duchy of Valwyck, home to the Ducal House of Baruch The Duchy of Vidaus, home to the Ducal House of Ruthern The County of Otistadt, home to the Comital House of Ludovar The Viscounty of Jerovitz, home to the Viscomital House of Kortrevich The Barony of Aurveldt, home to the Baronial House of Amador The Barony of Ghaestenwald, home to the Baronial House of Morovar IV JOVEO MANN, HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Karl III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Amadea of Susa, Queen-consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess-consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-consort of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Countess-consort of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscountess-consort of Varna, Baroness-consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.
  9. Yesterday
  10. Johann Ludovar rolls in his grave once again, even more uncomfortably at the words "No longer necessary"
  11. "Oi can't even read..." Monty mumbles as a Rivian page informs him of the news verbally.
  12. Barbara Morovar, seated in the square of Karosgrad, seemed curious as to the sudden flurry of hushed whispers, gasps, and giggles elicited by some unseen document being passed between a gaggle of court ladies. Keen to remain on top of the latest topics of note, the lady bid a few moments to observe the collection of parchment pages for herself. After a few minutes, the publication was passed back to it's original owner with nothing more than an indifferent, if not disappointed, shrug. Turning upon a heel, the Morovar moved to return to her seat as a quiet remark on the matter was uttered. "How...Orenian, of her."
  13. The one-armed goblin continues his patrols around the ancestral village of the Yars. A few friends have stopped by recently, noticing the path he carved on his way to the river-village and following it. Unfortunately, none have been whom the goblin was waiting for- any to whom this land was their birthright. He sighs as he drops himself back in his chair, staring out the window as it starts to rain. He unconsciously reclines a bit as he starts to doze off, the chair scraping against the floor and filling the hut with a sharp noise, waking him up once more. The displeasure is obvious on his face and he tosses the seat below him a scornful look- but before he can undergo a one-man war against chairs, a flash of pale color outside the window alerts him. The sky has started to crackle with lightning, bathing the swamp ground in light. He watches for a bit, until a hint of mottled grey by the riverside catches his eye- certainly something he didn’t see before on patrol. He stumbles out the door and into the storm, trekking over roots and muck as he wades through the swampy riverside. He reaches the odd shapes he saw before, and is struck with recognition and pity. A collection of eggs lie about the shoreline- each quite large, a mottled grey-green. He recognizes their distinctive pattern; Drûth Skhell eggs, the Bush Tortoise. The reason for his pitying look is obvious- the eggs lie broken and spilled, the nest ruined as it was washed up by the violent storm. His eyes widen in shock as he turns one over- not a single crack upon it. By far the smallest of the clutch, likely to birth a runt, but the only survivor of this nest. He gingerly picks it up with his single hand and cradles it against his body, before hobbling back to his hut. Once inside, he lies it down upon a box packed with sandy loam, gently burying it again. Soon will be the season that these tortoises are said to hatch in, and the goblin can only hope that this egg shall bear fruit. His lips part in a toothy grin at the irony, living in this village; he may never be a Yar, and this is no Duhnah Skhell, but he shall care for it all the same.
  14. Anna Ulyssa sets herself to prayer for the soul of her Great-Aunt, frankincense perfuming the air of the Temple of the Eternal Flame from which she begged the salvation of Novellen. In the thick of the forests of Vienne, Claude received word of Anne's death by a courier's approach. Her expression went morbid, her heart sour. The pressure of time's decay attacked her face, a hostile hand swift to throttle the rabbit freshly entangled in her hunting net. "I need no reminders of what lies in wait for me. I shall seek my tears some other day- Anne would not have wanted me to spoil my fun." Her lips conveyed a decent smirk, rising as did her knife upon the creature's skin.
  15. I'm a little late I know - I never knew the man well, but he's been my main inspiration when it came to building for a long while. I was the silly peasant who had to place in the blocks on LOTC for his beautiful design and that somehow got me talking to him. It wasn't much more then a few occasional interactions on MM and in Discord, but I went to him a few times when I was looking for building advice - especially regarding the Renzfeld expansion and I was always greeted with welcome and genuine advice. Well, at some day he obviously quit responding and I really didn't really notice - until I heard he's dead...
  16. Snow crunched beneath boots, it being the only sound. Soon, the sound stopped though, as whoever the boots belonged to stopped. An ‘aheral woman stood at the top of a snowy mountain, the wind causing her hair to whip about her face and shoulders. Blue eyes stared out at the expansive, snow covered land before her. Neia surged up the side of the mountain, moving as fast as her legs would take her. When she reached the top and made it over the edge, she faltered. The sight had her frozen in place. Her eyes widened as she stared. An empty set of armor, charred, with ashes within. A set of armor she knew all too well, one that matched the armor she was clad in. Her heart dropped to the bit of her stomach, grief washing over the woman. She could only stare for a number of moments. “Do you remember when you told me about Csarathaire, Mal’onn?” The question was asked to the open air, her voice soft as she spoke. Of course, there was no reply. Not that she expected one. The dead can’t speak after all. Soon that grief changed into a burning fury. And she turned her blade to the enemy. Her rage had her seeking vengeance in whatever way she could get it. Even as it crumbled down into pieces, she didn’t stop. She slashed and stabbed at whatever part of it she could. A gloved hand dove down into a satchel at her side, rummaging around for something. A small container was pulled out, a box of sorts. “It was on a mountain much like this one.” Her gaze fell on the box, pain evident within it. Her features twisted, a deep frown settling onto her face. “You told me all about Csarathaire.” She had to pause here, to clear her throat, before continuing. “It sparked something inside of me, and I knew then that I wanted to be one.” Everything felt numb. She was on autopilot for the next several minutes. Her blank gaze on the charred armor. She made her way over to it, even as the others made their way down the hill to get Eretria back to the Vale. The ashes were all that remained of Avius inside of that charred armor. With shaky hands, she patted at herself. Looking for something, anything, until she finally was able to fish out two vials. As careful as she could, she did her best to sweep some of the ashes into one vial, then the other. She didn’t stop until they were full. It wasn’t all of them, obviously, but it was enough. With her hands still shaking, she picked up the pieces of his armor, before setting off down the hill. “I would have followed you anywhere, no questions asked, even to the Nether and back. You gave me family when I had none. You believed in me. You took the time to teach me and show me the ways of Csarathaire.” The top of the box was pulled off. Ashes were inside. A lone tear fell down her cheek, leaving a chilled wet trail. “Now sit and speak with me.” Neia eased herself down so she was sitting in front of Avius. "Now, I want you to think and tell me why you want to take this final step, why you want to join this clan." She was silent for a moment as she thought, her hands resting on her lap. "Well, I felt something when you were first telling me of your clan's traditions and how they came to be. It stuck with me. And it's something I want to be part of, devote myself to." "This is a lifelong commitment, Neia, and you know what the gods expect of you." Avius said, looking at her. "I know. And I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't going to commit my life to it. You inspired me, honestly. To take the step, seeing you stand up for the traditions and beliefs of your clan." She fell silent for a moment, merely staring into the box. The cold wind bit at her cheeks, but she gave no reaction. “I won’t ever forget what you’ve given or taught me, Mal’onn.” Slowly, she turned the box over, so the ashes would scatter across the snowy mountain top. “And I won’t rest until everything that had to do with your death is burnt into nothing.”
  17. ROLEPLAY - Rp Name: Ursus Grandaxe Age: 86 Role Interested In: Student Classes Interested in(For Students): My interests lay in both the field of Evocations and Arcane Smithing, as well as magic overall, so I will be applying for all the classes availeble Qualifications for role (Only for Teachers, this includes magics they want to teach, and if they have taught at an establishment before.): Reason for wanting to join the Academy?: I have started my studies in the Voidal Ways of Magi before, but stopped because it didnt fit with me back then. After that I studied all around, found out as much as I could about all ways of magical manipulation, and came to the conclusion that the Voidal ways fit the best with me after all, especially because I want to improve my smithing, and keep those around me safe. OOC - MC Name: _Grey_W0lf_ Discord: _Grey_W0lf_#7961 Time Zone: GMT +1 (Amsterdam)
  18. Kharajyr are considered aberrants/abominations by the Aenguls to the best of my understanding, as sort of unholy bastardizations of life. I'd need to look at Hou but if they're just smart monke I can nix 'em. Otherwise, for your point on Iblees, descendants are not included as they do not owe their existence to being jammed into a blender with a cat - they're just all cursed in small part by Iblees. Seer will be patched, but I don't think they'd be affected, given the Witness being... the Witness. Law of Remediation will be patched to prevent fuckery, and correct one can only be healed once a day - this is to prevent people from speed healing an individual from the brink of death. Ward of Light ignores all physical attacks, correct. It can only repel magical effects, and it only takes effect on the [Cast] emote, not the prep one. So a minimum of 3 emotes to conjure a 1x1 ward. A dark mage could walk through it just fine given they're a physical force. I'll go in and redline that Final Oblation cannot rescue an individual from things like a Templar's Last Stand, or other lore-related PK clauses. I didn't think it needed to be specified that one needs lessons and time in order to progress, as is the case for every other magic. You do not progress in tier just by sitting on the MA per our lore rules, you require knowledge of every spell of your tier in order to progress in addition to the time requirement. Tyvm for the feedback mijo, I'll apply it asap!
  19. Chamber of Foreign Affairs 16th Horen’s Calling In The YearOf Our Lord 7 B.A. From the Office of Legate: “We learn from the past, we fight for the now and we pray for the future” Diplomacy is the gears that keeps Almaris turning. Diplomacy offers growth, peace, and prosperity. However, one man or woman cannot do everything alone. It is with this knowledge that the Legate’s Office of Balian wishes to hire anyone wanting to try their hand at diplomacy. Being a diplomat will include being involved in assisting first-hand with alliances, non-aggression pacts, and working directly with the Legate. Should you be interested in joining, please reach out to Legate Sir Jarad Munnel or Deputy Legates Ember Munnel & Davli. No experience is required. Current Hires: Sir Jarad Munnel - Legate Ember Munnel - Deputy Legate to the South Davli - Deputy Legate to the West Rosemary Vuiller – Diplomat to Haense Thomas Olivier - Diplomat to Haense Mihaelos Georgios - Diplomat in Training/Special Envoy Sorise Munnel - Advisor/Special Envoy Signed: His Excellency, Sir Jarad Munnel, Baron of Abretta, Legate for the Grand Duchy of Balian
  20. The elderly Koeng, Robert I of Haense spoke to Sigismund over a drink of ambrosia. "I must say, you certainly left them with a lot to read my new friend!" With the clink of wine glass the two men smiled to eachother, eyes peering to the mirrored waters in between. "I suppose we'll have to see what your descendant decides to write... then again he is my descendant likewise." While the two waited above in the Seven Skies it seemed they wouldn't have to wait too long until the newly styled Koeng gave them what they wanted.
  21. Sri

    How are you guys?

    Yeah I am pretty good. Getting my wisdom teeth pulled, its going to be a relief to have that done with.
  22. AFTER THE RAIN Comes a Rainbow Wails of a newborn echoed the chambers, vision blurry at the sight of such creation, and suddenly it all stopped. The room was quiet. A vision now changed, a scene obscure yet so clear, so memorable. A painting of a pair, joyous and loving. Madalene Ruthern, a flaxen-haired woman that Stefaniya so envied, pictured with her spouse; Ailred var Ruthern. Stefaniya’s eyes had fixated upon her father’s portrait, where she shared so many similar features with him, and had a raging desire to be like him. He was her idol, a true knight of fantastical ways that she admired. Then, she had one more pair of eyes to vision upon - a youthful Lucien, who admired the portrait just as much as she, even if he had no chance to have met her two parents. "When ea have children, ea want to be there for them. Their lives were cut too short.” Stefaniya was just a child still, yet a promise was kept, a deal where she was betrothed to Lucien, to marry him in the future. He knew, too, the pains of losing a parent, the absence of oblivion, like a sea without water, a desolate sand. "I promise that it won’t be like that, Stefaniya.” And there they stood, deep in their own thoughts, perhaps in their own sorrow, but also did they begin to look ahead. Another abrupt wail came, a flash of a vision before her, a wriggling child and handmaidens brushing the sweat off her brow, and it faded out once again… The sands were unique, a feeling that felt far from home - a warmth upon bare feet, with the waters of the ocean tickling at your toes. Freedom perhaps adjoined with this euphoria, as she stood in ragged clothes upon the beaches of Haelun’or. Stefaniya had escaped her turmoil from her journeys gone wrong, and her mission was to come home, to continue that promise with Lucien, to see her sister once again, but as she stared longer upon the wallowing waves, her mind swirled with the clash of the ocean’s fog. . . You’re evil, Stefaniya Ungrateful You can’t return home now. Undeserving How can you return? Stop it, Stop it, Stop it. And silence. A calm once again, after ravaging and circulating, a riptide of her mind had now turned into the tranquil oceans once again. Her mind stretched far beyond the sea now, where the flurries of snow whipped at the face of those denizens in Haeseni Ruska, and one particular one was still clear in her mind - the face of her betrothed, who she knew was filled with sorrow that she had disappeared. The melancholy sound of the lapping waves, where the same melody played in his ears, yet it was the flame that kept him company, and a bottle of Carrion Black. Soon, she would have made her return. "Stefaniya? Oh Stefaniya, look at vyr gorgeous babe, look at him, oh how healthy.” The tears fogged her vision again, and instead of looking upon a newborn, she had seen the countenance of her beloved again. No spark upon his eyes, a weariness that dragged along in his shadow, and her mind whirled again, as if her own shadow had overtaken her mind and haunted it. How can he love you now, Stefaniya? Silly you, how detestable you are. LOOK at him, you did this. You did this. You did this. This. "I will still have your hand in marriage Stefaniya, it was only you that I thought of, only you.” Yet, even with these words of reassurance, and even with her simper growing wider at the undying love that her betrothed carried for her, she still had these thoughts wash out her humor. A kiss upon the hand, and a gratitude to be home once more, yet she found herself having a dread, a hidden uncertainty, never to be shared with her dearest. "Now quiet, nie need to disturb vyr mamej. Someone assist Stefaniya, now, she must be tired. . .” Now her eyes opened, and a glimpse, a dream of her betrothed stood before her - her Prinzen, Lucien upon the altar, eyes now shifting to the other unfamiliar faces, yet she caught her sister’s flaxen hair, the hair that she shared with her mother that she so envied. Her heart raced with love, a passion - Angelika, a dear confidant, a friend, along with her undying ardor for her to-be husband. She remembered now, stringing up the foliage within the church, lanterns and flowers scattered and embraced in their union. "I do, I will, Stefaniya.” The words came to her in her bed, where her eyes barely came to open. Beside her was her husband, and the room was silent. Her hand held with the face of her betrothed once again. Before this, she must have told him something, something important. The scene around her had changed again, it was no longer the hazy image of the church, but the bedchambers where she first began her lucid hallucinations… "Name them, for me. Please tell me one more time, just one more time. . . that vy still love me, Lucien?” She did not hear his response, or hardly wait for it, but she murmured out what she was thinking all along, when the blood ran from her system, when all her health was gone into two newborns, and when all she had left was a full heart. All she thought was; "Ea love vy dearly, mea Prinzen.” A spur of wails trailed again, albeit distant this time. She felt her other memories flash upon her mind, a story of her life, where she was granted one last dance with her beloved, only until she left him alone for the last time, with two children now taking her place.
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