Whitelist Applications

Domonic Uialben read over the missive before offering Narithen a thumbs up "Yub, Dis do jus fine.." he then grinned, rubbing his hands together as his maniacal laughter filled the chambers of cerulia "We gun beat some a- bum. We gun beat some bum." he quickly checks the corridors, seeing if his mother was marching up them before grinning even more maliciously "Ass."

Agnar Grandaxes nods in approval. "'e is a good dwed. And would serve d'is nation well. A true wordsmith and someone who can bring forth true unity and might of dwedmar."

A Lich in Petra Date: The 5th of the Amber Cold, 1974 Four Saints Days ago, amidst the hallowed halls of diplomacy, I found myself in deep discourse with Cardinal Rhosyn. Our conversation delved into the intricacies of an agreement between Petra and the revered Order of Saint Jude for the purpose of testing. As our meeting drew to a close, Holy Ser Godefroy awaited me outside the Petran Monastery, a steadfast companion in our journey. Together, we traversed the cobblestone streets of the city. Our destination was none other than the esteemed Knight Captain Theoderic von Theonus, a stalwart defender of the realm. Rumors had reached our ears regarding Cassius Javaron, the affable bartender of a quaint tavern nestled within Petra's heart. Whispers spoke of his cure at the hands of one of the Pontiff’s trusted alchemists, dispelling the vampiric affliction that once plagued him. With prudence as our compass, we deemed it wise to commence our testing regimen within the city, beginning with one whose status was assuredly negative. Under the watchful gaze of Theoderic von Theonus, we subjected Cassius to the basic darkspawn tests. The Aurum test yielded promising results, yet it was the salt test that unraveled the truth. His blood would sizzle upon salt being introduced to his open wound. In a flurry, he sought refuge within his cellar, but as he would exit it, he was swiftly apprehended and escorted to the sanctuary of the Monastery. Ser Atticus, the grand speaker of Petra, and I deliberated upon the enigma before us. It was determined that the alchemist responsible for Cassius's cure possessed adequate knowledge of the alchemical arts. With the weight of authority bestowed upon me, I solemnly accepted the duty of executing the elven vampire. A tempest of battle ensued, where crimson magic crackled in the air, emanating from a sinister cane clenched within the vampire’s grasp. Through grit and determination, I hewed through the veil of darkness, delivering the final blow with my trusty Slayer Steel Axe. Yet, victory came at a cost, for I succumbed to the throes of incapacitation, the events that followed shrouded in the mists of unconsciousness until I stirred to consciousness within the confines of a hospital in Veldev. Today, as the sun rises anew, heralding the dawn of a fresh chapter, two valiant souls have pledged their allegiance to the Order of Saint Jude. Their inaugural task led them to Petra, where they discovered Cassius—resilient, unyielding, and steadfast in his stewardship of the tavern. Your Brother in Arms, Holy Ser Lug MacSkaul, Grandmaster of the Holy Order of Saint Jude

ANNOUNCEMENT of the PATRIARCH OF HOUSE VUILLER THE INHERITANCE OF AQUILAE AND SAN HARALDO In the year of our Lord, 10th of Lothar’s Gift 107 B.A Let it be known from the House of Vuiller that the passing of an inheritance is underway. The title of San Haraldo is being handed off to the Duke and Duchess’ second son, Marcel Elio Harald Vuiller, as his elder brother Isaac Anastasios Maxim Vuiller steps down from his post. Isaac has noted his brother’s involvement and deep interest in the house and wishes to see it thrive beneath him someday. With this, Isaac shall continue his path to knighthood and deeper studies, while his brother works to fulfill the duties of an heir to Vuiller. [ His Grace, the Patriarch of House Vuiller, JOHAN STOR VUILLER, DUKE OF AQUILAE Her Grace, DAME GWENYTH ‘THE UNYIELDING’ CALLISTA VILAC VUILLER, DUCHESS-CONSORT OF AQUILAE LADY SENTINEL OF THE ROYAL SENTINELS ROYAL MAGISTER OF THE KINGDOM OF BALIAN The Honourable, Heir of House Vuiller MARCEL ELIO HARALD VUILLER BARON OF SAN HARALDO

The young and fire tempered Mali'ame took up the letter from the Aviary in the dank grove he was stuck in. He sat on a rock and leaned back as he opened the letter and withdrew its contents reading over it, then again.. and again - he always hated reading so perhaps he was in mild disbelief. He folded the letter, cursing in elvish.

I can't wait for the ending where Xan and Azdromoth realise their feud was just a big misunderstanding and everyone lives happily ever after.

Baldwin was intrigued as he sat in his domicile, alone. He was drinking his homemade lemonade out of a neat, porcelain mug whilst he observed this missive and other information he had nearby. His eyes were furrowing as he sipped, he then sat down his cup to read more thoroughly. His legs began to cross as he read, he deepened his gaze towards the paper; "So.. They are dispersing within each other. They are slowly degrading from the inside. Good to know. That gives the Host the advantage." He set down that missive into a pile, before continuing on with other essential information. "Todd" read the missive with distaste, he didn't have a problem with the Vale but more of them lying about fighting off the Azdrazi. They aren't doing a damn thing. His sardine-fingered hands gripped the missive before he rips it; "Liars, you aren't doing a good enough job!" The angered ghoul said, kicking and stomping in an upset manner; "****! Give us some good conflict for **** sake!"

Poor Khenarlum clearly had gotten this whole election thong wrong. He scribbled Thurgrimbindal onto the missive. Why? How? It's been at least 10 elections. He did it wrong regardless.

Arwan seemed to take a sip of tea as a visit that carried the stench of iron, lifting his head to witness what seemed to be a stranger that carried a familiar arrogant aura. "you've visited once again; I must say that each time you create different ways to appear and enter. Seeing you like this, it seems I must make more haste of walking the path given to me."

Spuds sat back, reading over the news “This calls for the great plan to change just a little once more. All according to the great plan.”

WAKE UP BABE NEW ZARSIES LORE JUST DROPPED !!!!!

AJIKA Steward of the Forests Ajika is a Patron appointed by the Aspects to watch over the forests beyond the realms of the Eternal Forest. It takes the form of a stag with many horns, though it is not unknown for it to be sighted, in moments of conflict - usually with intrusive darkspawn who damage the woods - as an abnormally vast knight, akin to a Tree Lord with green bark for skin and flowing moss for a beard. It is said to wield a magickal axe. In its usual form, the many-horned stag, Ajika wanders the forests of all the world, of continents known and unknown to descendant-kind. As a result, its being seen on Aevos is an incredibly rare occurrence, one usually spurred by some devastating natural disaster. Though Ajika is known as the Steward, they can only be in one place at once, and in all lands with intelligent life, the forests shrink under the burden of the expansion of intelligent life - growth demands resources, primarily, wood. Every tree cut down brings a pang to their heart, every diseased grove a stab at their soul. For this reason, Ajika is a sorrowful, reclusive creature, doomed to watch in distant silence, and wait for the day which it believes will inevitably come - the day when it will have finally failed in its duty. This is not to say that Ajika will not fight for what is in front of it. Ajika has been known to murder wood-cutters and dark creatures who have been unfortunate enough to harm a forest that Ajika was residing in at the time; they share a deep, profound love for Descendant-kind, especially the Druids, but that love is overridden by their primary purpose: keeping watch over the forests, and keeping them safe and whole. DEATH AND REBIRTH Ajika is known to have died before. As their soul is bound to the protection of the forests, so long as a single tree stands, Ajika can never truly die. They can, however, be slain; Ajika’s blood bears the colour gold, and that blood is known to bear the extraordinary property of the healing of all wounds and scars, no matter their extent, and to extend life thricefold. It is a most valuable elixir, and is thus highly sought-after - as is Ajika. But the murdering of such a creature as Ajika is a grave moral sin. Save in instances of provocation or damage to its forests, Ajika will never harm nor attack a descendant; from the perspective of the trees, Ajika is their guardian, their immortal comforter. Therefore, those who murder Ajika or drink their golden blood will find that trees and flowers will whisper hateful things to them, condemn them, despise them - even if the individual is not attuned to nature, the blood of the Patron permits them this small curse; of being aware of the deep loathing with which the natural world will treat them. They will find that their walks through the forests become distressing experiences, with constant whispers from the leaves and trees of disapproval and disgust, and not a single animal crossing their path - such is the hatred that nature bears for them. It is not uncommon for the hunters of Ajika and for those who drink their blood to eventually go mad. After Ajika is killed, the forest in which such happened grows sickly with despair and sorrow; the trees immediately surrounding the death grow shrivelled and diseased, and unless they are swiftly cut down, this disease will rip through the entirety of the nearby forest, leaving nothing but husks of dead wood in its wake. Ajika themself will reappear after a short time in some other forest, all the more sorrowful, all the more despairing. INTERACTIONS WITH DESCENDANTS Ajika bears no ill-will to the common man. They are afraid of Descendants, of their magicks and their tricksy nature, and usually observe them, when they do, from a distance; most reports of Ajika tell of seeing them on some distant hill, or perhaps deeper in the forest. When Ajika draws near, the leaves rustle, and the wind blows unusually swiftly. The trees know - the animals know - and the Descendants know, always, that it draws near; even if they do not know what Ajika is, they sense that feeling of something momentous, of an old, impossibly old creature drawing near. Darkspawn would note a certain tinge of judgement, and of impending danger - Ajika does not tolerate corrupted things, and will take the aforementioned form as a warrior in green armour in order to slay them. The common dark creature stands little to no chance in a straight fight against the Steward. Ajika does not request worship, and nor do they demand sacrifice or offering. Druids have recorded attempting to kneel before the Steward, only for it to nudge them to their feet, and for the question to resound through their attuned mind with the voice of a thousand-thousand leaves: “Rise. Does the fox worship the oak?”

I still remember the one time these new fangled ritual devils said "We cant do deific magic." Whilst myself having been around even before the actual feat requirement was just stairing at them with questions. Honestly, the Link to the Devil FA should just be we within the redlines, or at least referenced. Cause i'd had 2 devils confused on which lore to follow.

Fynn blinked upon reading the section on the Fan, and grumbled under his breath to the Vinix perched on his shoulder, “Nonsense, I’ll be fine.” Who cared for caution? Certainly not him.

A certain mali'aheral furrows his brow, "I know my homeland has had its problems.. But this is certainly a new low, even for ignorant beings.." He tosses the missive away, shooting a sympathetic to any other elves that might take note of it.

Just feels like more alchemy bloat These Mechanics/Redlines contradict each other - If someone's base movement speed is lowered, the redline states their base movement will increase to 6 with a action and 10 with sprinting - which is more then a +2, depending on the slow -, while the mechanics state it's only a +2. It should be that consuming the potion provides a flat +2 to movement, as the mechanics says it does.

2ND EDICT OF THE KORTREVICH MAERSHIP WSZYR EDYKT II VE KORTREVICH MAERSTAT Issued on 3rd of Msitza and Dargund, 527 E.S. THE GRAND MAER'S FORUM As Grand Maer of New Valdev, it is first and foremost among my duties to serve as a voice for the citizens of our city. From the wealthiest merchant to the poorest commoner, all hopes and dreams for our capital should flow through this office and upwards, to reach the ears of the Aulic Council and the Crown itself. Whilst the Royal Duma serves as a legislative body, a way to see more everyday issues resolved in a timely manner is necessary to ensure the populace is given the service they seek as they go about their day-to-day lives. Thus, it is the wish of the Grand Maer to announce her second edict, the establishment of THE GRAND MAER'S FORUM. This forum, to be held bi-yearly within the Tipsy Tarchar Tavern, will allow the men and women of New Valdev to gather and voice their wishes, requests, and desires for their metropolitan home directly to the Grand Maer. All manner of subjects can be discussed and debated, so long as they pertain to the city itself or the greater-Crownlands of Hanseti-Ruska. Whilst the Grand Maer cannot guarantee all issues can be resolved, it is the hope that this forum will allow for most matters related to New Valdev to be handled directly by the city in future. *It is asked that any greater matters, beyond the abilities and duties of the Grand Maer, be directed to the Crown and it's councilors. Signed, Her Ladyship, Ioanna d'Arkent-Kortrevich, Grand Maer of New Valdev

"Not as cool as the Cerusil, but you know, your trying" Sylvir would give a thumps up

A watering can leaking multihued light refracting ichor drop to the ground beside the dim blue flowers such was meant to feed. A cloaked ex Primarch gazed up at the comets from what remained of the ruins in wide eyed excitement bringing the comically large telescope to her eyes in that makeshift observatory as she misunderstand the situation completely. "Wooaahh. . ." Jenny uttered happily, though "realization" soon dawned upon her as she stood within the meteor impact site. She did not have five arms! She made a few faux bicep curls of silent appraisal, then glancing back upward to the spectacle, then back to her noodle arms. ". . .Not it!" She touched her own nose, her arms weary from the last ordeal. Saying naught more before that hermetic Starchild went back to laying bricks and watering flowers.

Elves should be heightlocked to 5'5 for women and 5'0 for men.

SURNAME: Hope FIRST NAME: Edith RESIDENCE ADDRESS: Lyon Lane 5 YEAR OF BIRTH: (Age 24 irp) ((MC NAME)): CasualNuker

Brôk, otherwise completely uninvolved in the matter, added the political document or a copy thereof to his scholastic works on Sakuragakure and the Oyashiman culture.