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  1. Past hour
  2. Adeline Alstion Golfing with her Pals in the Seven Skies, sporadically watching the living with a minuscule amount of entertainment.
  3. To the Plaintif of the Elves. It has come to the attention of the Office of Security and Investigation of Rubern, that the accusation of severe maiming has been cast upon a number of citizens, unknown to the present date. This does trouble our hearts, and we assure with trembling hands that the Province Of Rubern and it’s Prince do grieve and condemn such violent acts of barbarity, lest it is that they are condemned by Higher Forces, for the Time is of War. We urge the victim and associates to ride hard for the Province, so that JUSTICE might be rendered, and by the Heavens may they be fair. May Logic Reign, Ave Stellae. Jean de Saint-Loup, Chief Officer of Security and Investigation.
  4. Yesterday
  5. A pale man shook his head, noting both the futility and utter stagnation of the man’s beliefs. ”What next?” his mind asked “Equality for women? To refrain from eating meat? Democracy? These are the cravings of fools.”
  6. As Agner read through the advertisement flyer, his mind was filled with the thoughts of rabbit stew served with a side of warm bread, “Oh this shall be a feast, and mighty Agner shall win the tavern brawl!”
  7. “A most tragic tale”.. Remarks Doran Ruric.
  8. Tovelm would be informed by his fellow soldiers that another mission had been posted and he would grab some bodies to go and complete it.
  9. Benelux

    A Soul Rekindled

    Astrid smiled down to Edyth from wherever she was. The war having taken her life at some undisclosed location, her daughter somewhere lost as Edyth once was. Astrid offered a motherly look to Edyth even though she was not seen. "Stay strong sweetheart. A stick alone is weak, but united with multiple strong..." And with that Astrid went.
  10. Namyra’Lur takes a deep breath and opens her eyes to look over the wilds surrounding the Goi. Vota would be proud in these next coming days.
  11. “This is my favorite tavern in all the land. I have visited many a tavern but none of the other taverns have people in them. The prices are very fair considering once a day minae magically forms in my pocket. Though lets be real, not a tavern in the world that could replace the majesty of Fukov tavern, but this is easily second place in reality. Very fun place, friendly staff and very educated. Good place for conversation, easily the most active place in existence. **** you Erik.” says ‘Jester’ after witnessing the advertisement and writing down his own formal response and excellent recommendation 5 stars.
  12. [Rolls, since arrows are hard to come by and don’t stick to the targets we made.]
  13. The Rex nods with a smile. “Hosh, bruddah, hosh. “
  14. Anna Maria would sit beside her fever-ridden father, her younger sister Louisa informing her of the Empress’ capture. Her father groaned in his dazed sleep as her grip tightened upon his hand.
  15. “Just give her the nopeekay juice, I know your emperor has some left over.” Remarks alefrik
  16. The Poet Outside the poet’s window, the first rays of the morning sun rolled in, gently piercing a light mist in the street and staining his desk with a soft light. The sunlight was outshone by a cheap tallow candle which flickered with an odd sort of care-free happiness, creating prancing shadows over the woodgrain and the parchment. Dietrich van Jungingen sat in a pensive mood, his eyes tired from a sleepless night. In his hand was a fine Fennic dip-pen, made from a pallid wood edged with gold; ink stained his palms and fingers, the result of a writer’s habit. He leaned forwards to his desk and put his pen to paper. Maybe, just maybe, he had found the right words. Then, with a sudden feeling of unsatisfaction, he slowly drew back in a manner he had grown accustomed to and threw down the lovely pen exasperatedly. He unconsciously reached for a bottle of Carrion Black, a drink which he had recently begun to stash under his desk, without bothering to look and grunted with disappointment as his fingers felt an empty weight. He inclined his head with a sour gaze and saw with surprise three such hollow bottles. The poet’s mood only decayed further. He swept the many small piles of scrunched balls of parchment off the desk and glowered at the candle. It continued to taunt him with its good mood and light-hearted manner. It danced with a merry flame, as its brothers had done during the long night. Dietrich snuffed the candle, and then only the weak, greyish cast of dawn lit the room. He looked at the waxy stump with mixed feelings of satisfaction and self-loathing. He leaned back against his chair and looked up at the portrait of Marius the Brash, which hung on the wall to his left. He gazed into the King’s eyes. The artist must have had a talent for such features, because they gripped him like a monk in prayer. He felt a strange kinship with the dead man, an odd sense of understanding stirred by his deepest thoughts, and he reminded himself yet again of his own fragile mortality. He studied the portrait for a long time, reliving the days he lived under that unfortunate king. The horrors of war came flooding back to him, and he sat transfixed, until he was awoken by the harsh cawing of a crow. With a desperate sigh he arose and flung open the window, letting a cold breeze flood in, before returning to the seat he so often reclined in lethargically. The royal poet reached again for a bottle of Carrion Black and met with the same disappointment as before. Thoughts ran through his mind as he slowly traced the mortar-lines of the wall with his eyes. The crow cawed again, louder this time, and Dietrich thought of his kinsmen who had been slain by their many foes. How he had caused their deaths, by being at Rubern. How he had caused the slaughter of innocents, the burning of crops and horrific mutilation of men and women across Arcas in attacks of petty vengeance and mindless, endless violence. He thought of that violence that had been released from its cage by a madman, roaring and defiant, with no other purpose than to shed blood and wreak revenge. The mocking laughter of his past spectres rose once again, as they so often did, to haunt him, to torment him. The poet suddenly seized a piece of parchment, inspired by his overwhelming guilt. His eyes, rimmed with the black mark of sleeplessness, scanned the floor for the Fennic pen many times until he finally found it. He took up the pen, lowered it into the ink bottle and went once more to place the nib against the wrinkled sheet. He stained it not with ink, but with tears.
  17. “I thank you for your kind words, Your Excellency. That Salvia has an allegorical meaning makes sense to me, and fits well with the imagery and message of the poetry. As for the origins of the 14th Century Salvus, I did a bit more reading on the matter, and as it happens that kingdom’s founding coincides with both the Phoenix Rebellion and the Undead horde’s descent upon Al’khazar. In that context, I’d wager that the name refers to salvation their new home provided the Sheffields and their loyalists, from both the revolutionaries and the Undead. In a similar vein, the capital of Salvus in Asulon was called ‘Solace’ after the peace and comfort they had found. So it seems the Sheffield’s naming scheme was more in line with the worldly circumstances they found themselves in, rather than the religious meanings we might have hoped. But such is to be expected of that accursed house – Enor’s father is recorded to have killed his wife and joined the Undead. Still, it is satisfying nevertheless to know why the Kingdom of Salvus was called such. As for Al’khazar, well, I’ll wipe the dust off the books.”
  18. A HAESENI THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE 9th of Joma and Umund, 296 THE CROW’S THEATRE TROUPE IS PROUD TO PRESENT ‘The Tragedy of Ser Ulric Tiberan and The Woman Dun’– a sorrowful tale of love and betrayal, written by the royal poet and playwright Dietrich van Jungingen. After much preparation and meticulous planning the famed Crow’s Theatre Troupe is pleased to finally reveal its first foray into the world of drama. This re-telling of the famous Haeseni folktale is certain to excite, thrill and entertain audiences - weep at the doomed Woman Dun, hiss at the dastardly Ljudimir and praise the noble Ser Ulric. This mighty monument of Haeseni culture will cement itself as a masterpiece of the stage, the envy of the other, lesser troupes of Helena, wider Oren and beyond; it shall mark the bold beginning of a theatrical golden age for Hanseti-Ruska. Signed, HER EXCELLENCY, Kamilla Julya Stafyr nee Baruch, Lady Chamberlain of Hanseti-Ruska
  19. The fact that you are doing it on a Minecraft server of all places really shows me that you aren’t... you really believe this is the best place to sprout the message when there are COUNTLESS of social media and political networking resources available? Have you even written a letter to your local congressmen or woman about the issue? Have you gone to any real-life panels or online forums dedicated to helping solve the controversy? Have you donated money to charities dedicated to helping support the freedom of Hong Kong? My guess is, probably not. Get the cotton-brained juvenile antics out your head and approach the situation as a mature and reasonable adult, not in some millenial “hurr hurr derr bOOMers r sH1t” mentality.
  20. old ass project of mine which never came to fruition – really good to see it getting a new purpose))
  21. An old soldier grunts, wandering the planes searching for the accursed red-splashed helms.
  22. Elizaveta Sarkozic cackles madly to herself as she sets off to make contact with a sentient voidal tear. She holds a grudge against the world, and she wants to help end it.
  23. bro what are you doing, just let the mob die down for two seconds u keep doing this to yourself
  24. The illustrious Senator from Kaedrin stands, waiting to be recognized by the presiding officer.
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