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Atsuko awoke in a startle with shaken breath did she rise, taking blades to her hip, donning her armor and placing reed betwixt her teeth. Stepping past the checkpoint she donned kasa and paced offward, the wayfarer would persist. She wandered until her mind was clear once more, "What a terrible day to be Samurai. . ." thought the Onna Musha.
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Dimitri's daughter, Santana, stared at the will with nothing more than the barest hint of pain her in eyes. Not grief, not remorse, not even anger. She set the writ aside to move towards the balcony. "All that effort, and for what?" A slow exhale escaped the princess. For all their arguments, dinners alone without a parent in sight, and the long nights alone stewing over his decisions as a parent, she would still mourn him- in her own way.
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Renata Alba looked over the missive. Her Uncles death was announced, on the very day of her wedding, and Dimitris own daughters wedding. A cursed time, certainly - for such a joyous day to be saddened by such news. She sat within her quarters, having set herself at her desk amidst flickering candle light. A lady-in-waiting, one different to her usual, would provide her a glass of warm milk with softly ushered words. Renata ignored the woman for the most part, folding the missive as she put out the candle before her. "Rest in peace, Tio."
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Fleur Halcourt held the notice in her hand, her fingers trembling as she read over the words in disbelief. "Non Non, this is not happening" the princes old ward was in disbelief.
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guide Generic plugin knowledge in a google doc
AnimeWolf0080 replied to mika1278's topic in Miscellany
This is really cool to see! Just a heads up from what I remember #W can be heard with in 2-3 blocks around you #Q can be heard within 8 blocks, #RP is 20-24 blocks and #S is 64 blocks around you. That's just going off my old ct notes, I am unsure if it has changed. -
You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) As Margaery steps into the tattered tent, her delicate features remain composed despite the eerie surroundings. Feeling a mix of curiosity and caution, she carefully observes the mysterious woman before her. 'I come seeking guidance,' Margaery begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet brimming with confidence. 'I have traveled far and wide, guided by whispers of your wisdom. My path has led me here, to this murky town' She pauses, her mesmerizing eyes locking with the old hag’s piercing gaze. 'You speak as if you know me,' Margaery continues, her tone unwavering, a subtle hint of amusement lacing her words. 'What is it that you see in me that others do not? What threads of fate have drawn us together in this peculiar place?' She gracefully takes a seat on the cushion offered, her movements fluid and poised. 'My life's journey is a blend of hidden stories and unexpected turns,' Margaery reflects, her tone sincere, her demeanor open. "I've come to understand that I'm simply a traveler on this winding road, seeking meaning amidst the twists and turns. So, tell me what mysteries unfold in the paths you've crossed?" Margaery inquires, her curiosity tinged with a hint of anticipation.
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Shamil would receive news, and simply place his hands into his face and wept, For a great man had perished, and a good teacher and friend, he made dua to Allah for his forgiveness and entrance into seven skies, and only wished he was able to say a proper goodbye after his peoples eviction from Hyspia. "Goodbye Ya Sahibi, May Allah reward you a great home in Paradise, I hope your family will continue to honor you as a man of their word, and standing on the principles of fairness. Ininna li-llahi Wa-Inna Ilayhi Raji'un, From Allah We come, and to him we shall return.."
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Arathor paces back and forth for some time following his wakening. He betrays little emotion in public, but in the privacy of his room in whatever dingy inn he finds himself, his distress is plain. Eventually, after about an hours silent pacing, he sits on the edge of his cot, rubbing his face, and repeating to himself: "One thing at a time... One thing at a time."
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Issued by the Viscounty of Krusev c. 532 E.S. It is with great sadness that House Kortrevich announces the death of Prince Dimitri Otto de Pelear, formally Dimitri Otto Kortrevich. Dimitri was a much-loved member of House Kortrevich who served the family with duty and honour for many years before joining House de Pelear to be their consort and lead the Sovereignty of Hyspia with dignity and loyalty. He will be missed by many friends and family members. May he be at rest in the Seven Skies. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀I⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ Attached is the final will and testament of Dimitri Otto. THE HONOURABLE, ERIK OTTO KORTREIVCH Viscount of Krusev, Baron of Koravia, Lord of Fort Ileana, Lord Captain of ve Bykursain HER LADYSHIP, EMMA MARIYA AMADOR Royal Physician of Hanseti-Ruska HER ROYAL EXCELLENCY, DAME GWENYTH ‘THE UNYIELDING’ CALLISTA VILAC VUILLER, Constable of The Royal Balianese Duana, Marshal of the Regiment of Saint Lothar, Lady Sentinel of The Royal Sentinels, Garrison Commander of Fort Demetrio, Cavalier of The Order of Saint Michael
- Yesterday
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You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) "Oh, Hi! I honestly didn't think anyone was over here," he says with an awkward expression. "Honestly, I was just getting sooo bored of my farm work. You see, ever since I was old enough to walk my parents gave me like a MILLION chores and I just cant take it anymore! So, instead of sowing the stupid fields today like I was supposed to I decided to go exploring," he then take a good look at the hags face and notice how old she is. "OH MY GOODNESS! You are ancientttt. Not to be rude, but I'm honestly surprised you aren't, ya know, dead or anything. Sorry if that's rude, I've been told I have no filter. Anyways, back to what you said earlier, what do you mean by you've been expecting me?" he asks with a semi-concerned tone. "As far as I'm concerned I'm an absolute nobody. I think you've confused me with the wrong person.."
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Casreus, stirring in the night, awoke from his restless sleep. His breath raced, labouring him as the wheeze plagued his lungs which a bronzed hand rested over. He rose from bed, stepping outside upon that cold mountainside and rested. His breathing slowed; a practice he had always done, even if involuntary, as he tried to calm the ailed mind that assailed his own. He grunted; there was no peace, not in his mind, his heart, or the lord that granted him that power. He took his stave in hand, striking at the target-dummy with a grunt. Another strike- another strike- another strike. The mountainside trees swayed in the frigid night wind plagued by the sounds of wood striking wood until the morning sun came to rise.
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You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) "OH! How interesting. I've never been one for magic, but if you've been expecting me I don't see a reason to leave!" You sit on the cushion allowing yourself no time to breathe as you prattle. "I don't know if all that fancy divination tells you my name, but I'll introduce myself either way. I'm Hilda Fernfeet it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm a bit of a wanderer and I just happened to stumble upon this lovely little place. There's not really much to tell I don't think. I grew up in a small little village with a loving mother..." you look off wistfully, "Oh I was an adventurous little scamp, I once brought home several squirrels! When I got old enough I started wanderin' farther and farther until my mother got me this lovely little pack and teary-eyed sent me on my way. Since then it's been quite eventful you see this one time..." You continue to talk about nothing in particular until...
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"Well that just happened." Said Takemura.
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“Ka-Ka-Ka!” cackles an old Templar beneath a Sakura. “Two tyrants collide … Machiman invokes Victor’s Justice. Kimari da; let us see if the upstart can shake the heavens.” ((Can’t spoiler yet on phone but if you’re quipping on a rare Malch post you’re contributing to the death of the MA and it’s culture
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A Templar awakened, before making his way to the mountains between Urguan and the Vale, and stared at the setting of the sun. He disagreed that this was a duel of the Courageous - for Ruin and Order clashed, both in declaring itself for the servitude for all of Man. One within the Sunlit Path; the other within Azdromoth's plans and schemes. The man began to observe the ocean. Both parties had broken oaths; both parties had broken bonds; both parties had broken the Dogma of Courage. He'd breath a moment, beginning to form a white, pulsating light into his left palm - and made his decision. One way or another, the world would be changed. It was within this change that the Descendants' and the Archaengul, Malchediael, would reign in supremacy - else the Heavens would remain derisive to Man and their brilliance.
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Caliene awakes in a cold sweat in her bedroom, sat up in a blind panic. . . then there was nothing wrong. It was just her bedroom. The window was open, letting cool dawn's breeze in. Seeing as it was evident enough to let the paladins and the dragon-spawn continue on their usual ways, the Templar laid back down and tried to get some sleep. "That seems like something to handle later. . ."
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Ser Adrielle rolled over in bed and looked out her window after wakening from the dream. She squinted seeing that dawn was just barely breaking and she simply sighed as she lied back down and threw the pillow over her head. "Too early for this shit." She'd say before falling back asleep.
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"OWYN WAS A FARFOLK," shouted the black swordsman when he woke up, seeing his ancestor in the vision.
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A templar clad in brazen armor was overwhelmed by this sight; it was not her usual vision bestowed by her blessing. No, it was different. She beheld from afar the fight, standing upright as the heavens clashed and shed blood. While she wasn't a needless preacher of violence, unlike the paladins she so despised, witnessing such a war was quite a surprising sight. She enjoyed fighting. Alas, it would not be her turn to join the combat. Nevertheless, shes ombrely sighed at the sight of the dead machines. Perhaps this was the only glimpse of victims she didn't like to see of this war, as she cared little about either side. The war-machines were innocents of its own. "Xan must perish. Azdromoth must pay. However, I will only continue to protect my home and my people." Stated the palid templar upon the ending of the vision, waking up with a swift jerk of her head, beyond focused and perturbed. She exhaled a raspy breath before moving away to find her templar comrade in Amathine. There was much to discuss.
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Thank you so much "Amateurs think of strategy" -+- "Masters think of Logistics" You have done a great thing. Much respect.
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Two Templars of the same line born a hundred years apart shudder, bracing themselves against their nearby surroundings as they wake from the vision in a cold sweat. Both are unsure of what to make of it.
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If any of the Lector Templars looked really closely, they would see Securo-Stor Mk.86 corpses amongst the destroyed machines. The Hyper-War rages on. . .
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"Last toimeh oi checked, oi donnaeh listehn taeh visions er common senseh." Said Sigrun as he knocked back some breakfast after waking up - some ale and a day-old slab of pork.
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Peter shot out of bed, sweating up a storm- he looked down at his body, his ticking machine-limbs still present as he quickly touched his appendages, even his maw of metal. He sighed in relief, before a thought emerged; "So . . . Do they want us to let the Paladins and Dragons duke it out? O-k." Thus, Peter drifted back to sleep.
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