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Hi there, as you can see your application has unfortunately been denied, check below for the detailed reasons why. Unfortunately, your 48 hour editing period has expired.. However, don’t fret, you are free to reapply immediately, just remember to edit and change all that is listed below <3 - Please make sure to include at least six sentences! If you’re stumped on what to add. I recommend saying where you are from, how was it growing up? Maybe talk about your parents? Ect. - Your roleplay scenario needs to be in third person. Don’t worry though! You can submit a new application and try again right after, just make sure you correct the things listed! My discord is notapan ! If you have any questions I'm happy to help! If you don’t have discord please reach out to me on the forums. If you need to contact me, or need help, you can join the LotC Discord and the New player hub!, here is the link! Discord If you still need help, make sure to check the wiki! WIKI Lastly is a link to the new player hub! : New Player Hub

Changed Status to Denied

Hi there, as you can see your application has unfortunately been denied, check below for the detailed reasons why. Unfortunately, your 48 hour editing period has expired.. However, don’t fret, you are free to reapply immediately, just remember to edit and change all that is listed below <3 - Please make sure to include at least six sentences! If you’re stumped on what to add. I recommend saying where you are from, how was it growing up? Maybe talk about your parents? Ect. -Your roleplay scenario needs to be in third person. Don’t worry though! You can submit a new application and try again right after, just make sure you correct the things listed! My discord is notapan ! If you have any questions I'm happy to help! If you don’t have discord please reach out to me on the forums. If you need to contact me, or need help, you can join the LotC Discord and the New player hub!, here is the link! Discord If you still need help, make sure to check the wiki! WIKI Lastly is a link to the new player hub! : New Player Hub

Changed Status to Denied

Hi there, as you can see your application has unfortunately been denied, check below for the detailed reasons why. Unfortunately, your 48 hour editing period has expired.. However, don’t fret, you are free to reapply immediately, just remember to edit and change all that is listed below <3 - Please make sure to include at least six sentences! If you’re stumped on what to add. I recommend saying where you are from, how was it growing up? Maybe talk about your parents? Ect. - Your roleplay scenario needs to be in third person. - How does it make the roleplay environment unfair? Please redo your metagaming question. - Please redo your powergaming question as it is for exactly what yourself would do to avoid committing powergaming. Don’t worry though! You can submit a new application and try again right after, just make sure you correct the things listed! My discord is notapan ! If you have any questions I'm happy to help! If you don’t have discord please reach out to me on the forums. If you need to contact me, or need help, you can join the LotC Discord and the New player hub!, here is the link! Discord If you still need help, make sure to check the wiki! WIKI Lastly is a link to the new player hub! : New Player Hub

The young Radovanic sat before the hearth of his Valdev home, rubbing his hands together; though not for any fear of cold, for his family was well-accustomed to ice and to snow. Instead, he recalled the ride, the climb, the discovery, and... the fear, and the unnatural. Ratibor knew he could not let such feelings rule him forever, but... how does one defeat something intangible?

THE SOKOL MOVEMENT c. 1919 As founded by His Lordship, Aleksander Wilhelm Jazloviecki His Excellency, Caius Godwin, First Sea Lord and Admiral of the Royal Aaunic Navy His Lordship, Witold Piotr Jazloviecki His Lordship, Mikhail Stefan Jazloviecki Current Chairman: Michael Sergius de Witt Current Vice Chairman: Unappointed The Sokol Movement is a political religious movement that is a devout supporter of Human Supremacism, Canonist Supremacism, Heartlander Nationalism and Pan-Canonism. The aim of the movement is to maintain a strong position of the Holy Church in realms ruled by humans and the belief that the Heartlands will be the center for the reunification of man, where Canonists will all unite oncemore. The structure of the organization is hierarchical and can involve nobility, commoners and clergymen. Members of the organization are tasked with defending the Pontiff and other men of the cloth at public events, and in the name of salvation and life after death in the Seven Skies, to lay down their lives in their defense if necessary. Ideologies: I. Canonist supremacism Canonism is the one true faith, and is therefore the one true religion where humanity must adhere to. II. Human supremacism Man are the ones who ascend into the Seven Skies, the intelligence of man has brought many Empires and Kingdoms upon this realm and are our backbone. From Exalted Horen, to the many Kings and Queens who now rule over man. III. Heartlander Nationalism The pride of being a Heartlander and the belief that the Heartlands is where a grand unification of Heartlanders shall commence oncemore. Even with those who hail from the diaspora. IV. Pan-Canonism The belief that Canonists must all be united in both faith and realms, for a centralized region of all Canonists to come to fruition and to be united against external threats upon our faith. V. Anti-Aurelianism The strong belief that those who adhere to the heretical belief that Emperor Aurelius is an Exalted, are to be rightfully persecuted within Canonist lands for their schism of the one true Church. The hierarchy of the movement is divided into four tiers: Chairman - An individual elected by other members of the Sokol Movement, holding the highest authority. Clergymen - All servants of God that want to join the movement and bless the militia before their guard duty commences. Militants - Armed members of the Sokol Movement who are tasked with protecting all men of the cloth during church services and other public events where their lives may be at risk. They are also to protect all of man should their help be called upon. Common members of the movement - People who are encouraged to spread the word of God and join the social ranks to further promote our ideals and beliefs. Membership The Sokol Movement does not have have a registered membership. To support the cause, you can simply wear a green sash, or wear a green medal.

Taher Al-Jameel shook his head in disbelief on how Hyspia threatens Allah's humble servants" If only they had the wisdom of The Sheikh to assess the situation rather than barking like a wild dog, but even dogs can be thaught discipline."

Isolde von Kanunsberg read the whole thing once, and then once again. She beamed in admiration of the hard work Adalfriede had put into the study, and began to read it aloud to her son. Theodemar was of course, too young to understand anything, but she made sure to show him each picture.

FRANKS - TRIBES OF THE FRANKTIR ᚠᚱᚪᚾᚳᛋ × ᛒᛁ ᛒᛚᚩᚩᛞ ᚻᛖᚱᚩᛖᛋ × ᛒᛁ ᚹᚪᚱ ᛒᚪᚱᛒᚪᚱᛁᚪᚾᛋ "They were the ones to carve the ancient faces upon the mountains, and they were the ones to erect the Elder Monuments of the Franklands. . ." - A Minitzian Scholar, Early Aevos Overview & Origin Tribalistic Highlanders, born of early Jorenic Folk in days-gone-by, the origin of the Frankish people is one shrouded in mystery and myth, and though it is universally agreed by outside scholars that these barbaric and hardy people are somehow connected to the ancient inhabitants of Edel, it is not agreed on when they arose as a distinct cultural group, nor is it known how exactly they arrived upon Aevos somewhere in the distant and far-flung past. Frankish sages and aged wisemen tell a differing story, and though it often changes from tribe to tribe, the general idea of an elder war between brothers, and the splintering of kingdoms there-after is always present. Franks, physically and culturally, are hardy people, stubborn to the core and unyielding in war, conflict, and ruinous change, they are often unable to change their worldviews, often to their detriment or fault. Strong and tall of body and generally fair of skin and hair, the Frankish tribes had, until recently, lived in the central Aevosian heartlands for untold generations, with their people having a strong inclination to that general landscape, often being skilled forest trackers and mountaineers, in conflict either taking up ranged weapons such as bows, primitive crossbows, and javelins, or heavy melee weaponry such as axes, imposing swords, and large-bladed spears. Both men and women of the Franks are allowed and encouraged to fight when their way of life is threatened, with them being known for their extensive use of blueish woad warpaint, such being applied in swirling, runic patterns before each battle without fail. Culture & Traits Franks are a tribal Highlander people “native” to the Aevosian continent whose technological level is typically that of the late-bronze age, though several tribes are known to also use iron tools and weaponry. An agricultural people supported by hunting, gathering, and other sources of food, Franks use what they are given to its utmost efficiency and usefulness. The Frankish tribes are typically considered rather barbaric and uncivilized, though are known for their loyalty and honour to those they respect and swear oaths to, be them fellow Frank or outsider alike. A fierce and warlike grouping of disparate tribes that are occasionally united by common cause, honour or other means, overall, the Franks are not to be messed with without caution less you meet spear and sword, axe and arrow. . . PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS Might of Dagodurnos - Franks are a strong people, tall and mighty in stature and formidable upon the battlefield, rarely standing below 6 feet in height, often a few inches taller, able to reach the maximum human limit with general ease and proper nutrition. War and conflict comes naturally to a Frank, them picking up the use of new weapons and military tactics easier than most, for even before the arrival of the primary descendant host, the Frankish peoples practised endemic warfare often, tribes fighting against each other, either alone, or in honour bound coalitions and alliances. Endurance of Katurix - Those of the Franktir are a hardy kind, able to walk for days on end with little tire and shrug off minor wounds with little pain or discomfort, both traits akin to a trained soldier. Frankish villages and resource encampments were traditionally separated by vast swaths of land, be it mountain, plain or forest, with their inhabitants being used to travelling long and far to complete their goals, whatever they may be, for war, peace, or otherwise. Blood of Joren - Born of early Jorenic settlers, the Frankish tribes are used to somewhat colder conditions and lack of insulated or more modern shelter, many a Frank only having a fire to warm them during a chilly winter night, and while the Franklands as a whole are warmed during the summer and spring, it’s traditional inhabitants often find trouble when in more arid, dry locals, with Frankish explorers often noting their great discomfort when exploring searing desert or savanna. Franks possess pale skin and lighter hair, often ranging from a simple blond or brown to a more complex rusty reddish hue, with eyes often being blue, green, a mixture of the two, or rarely, a light hazel. Devastated Population - War and conflict with the primary descendant host, specifically the technologically superior Reinmaren of then Minitz has devastated the population and livelihoods of many if not all Frankish Tribes. Most traditional sages and wisemen died during the early years of the first conquest, and even more perished during the second, the Franks are now a scattered people, either living in half-ruined camps sites still within their dwindling territory inside the homeland, or beside the very people who brought such devastation and destruction upon them, these Franks having to put aside their stubbornness and accept that life will never be the same as before the “Sea People” arrived on that fateful day. CULTURAL CHARACTERISTICS Word is bond - Franks value loyalty and the keeping of oaths and promises above all else, with it being well known that if a Frank promises you something, it surely must be upheld, less the tribesman in question is without sanity, or worse, corrupted and black of heart. To the Frankish tribes, your word is your bond, and you are to stick by your beliefs and values even if they harm you or your family, this often leading to more traditional Franks losing everything because of a prior agreement gone wrong. Hero Veneration - Traditional to the Frankish way of life is the effective worship of the ancestors alongside the Creator, in particular specific “Hero-Gods”, these being Franks and even well known outsiders who have done great deeds in the eyes of the Frankish tribes. These ancestral deities are often local in scope, only being worshipped by a handful of tribes, perhaps only one if the ancestor in question is of such a small scope. On the inverse, if a Frank, or more typically an outsider deals great pain to the Frankish tribes as a whole, refusing to redeem themselves or atone for their actions, then these deceased men are sometimes thought of as “Villain-Gods”, something that is reviled and whose name is spoken only in hate. In the modern day, many Franks will state their religion as Canonism, either to avoid persecution, or due to honest belief in such due to conversion, even if the True Faith’s tenets and teachings are often half-heartedly adhered to. Way of the Elder Sages - In those days of yore, Franks are said to have carved great faces upon the very mountains and raised monuments of immense proportion and grandeur, with many failing ruins and structures dotting the traditional homeland of these people in central Aevos. Many Frankish tribesmen attribute these impressive and impossible creations and myths to that of the “Elder Sages”, and certainly, some of their influence and wisdom remains within the Franks as a whole. Individual tribesmen are known to be quick learning, easy to adapt information and their studies into all manner of pursuits, be it alchemy, mundane crafts, or historical research; inversely, whole tribes and their allies have been said to cooperate and complete tasks with surprising speed and efficiency. However despite these positive cultural attributes gifted by those ancient wisemen, Franks as whole are typically very stubborn and blunt in their opinions and words, at times even appearing rude or disrespectful to outsider mindsets. A Homeland Lost - The traditional territory of the Frankish tribes, often called “The Franklands” is a quickly dwindling area where Franks practise their ways, unchanged by the arrival of the primary population of descendants. This landscape, devastated and ruined by war and the settlement of others, is one set to disappear within the next generation or two. Many Frankish monuments and runestones have been toppled, the history contained within being lost to the winds of time, additionally, most Franks feel a strong sense of both guilt and loss when thinking about their homeland, for if they had changed their mindset during and after the first conquest and arrival of early Aaunic settlers, then perhaps they would have been given allowance to live as they did for generations. Others feel angry and spiteful, filled with wrath to who they view as foreign invaders. Confirmed Sub-Groups & Known Tribes Due to the near destruction and evacuation of the Frankish tribes out of the Franklands as well as the tribal nature of the culture, there are many groupings of Franks that dot the lands, the following are a list of known tribes and tribal collations that exist in the modern day, known to the Franks as “The Age of The Sea-Peoples” or “The Age of Loss” depending on how hateful the individual is. [THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED OVERTIME. PLEASE MESSAGE ME ON DISCORD IF YOU SEEK TO HAVE A GROUP OR TRIBE ADDED TO THE LIST.] - Rein-Frankish Tribes [Live as Tributaries in The Principality of Reinmar] Tribe of Uxelosii [Lead by Mogurix, Son of Garomaros] Other Followers of the Hawk [Unknown amount of tribes and individuals] - Remnant Franklands Tribes [Illegally Live in the Heartlander Confederacy] Unknown small amount of tribes and individuals [Not United, Exist as Disparate Groups] Credits I want to greatly thank and credit the following people for helping with this project and culture, if you helped in the original Franklands events and want to be credited, please send me a message on discord and I’ll add you right away, I feel it is very, very important to honour those who made the culture/events in the first place, many thanks. Overall, the inspiration and general vibe/basis for the Franks is the continental Celts of Gaul/Gallic peoples, with the addition of a small set of Brythonic Celtic elements/ideas as part of my own contribution. Madone2k - Original Frankish Lore/Event Writer MiniGuy - Original Frankish Lore/Event Writer Norgeth_ - Primary Post Writer Titanium430 - Proof-reader The Reinmar Community - Helping out IRP & OOC to allow this to even be written

SURNAME: Temesch FIRST NAME: William Godfrey RESIDENCE ADDRESS: Vursur Avenue nr 3 YEAR OF BIRTH: 1958 ((MC NAME)): Asoart

There were probably more details that culminated in the development of that child into what he was, but those are lost to the world, but for the sporadic observations of some staffers of a white palace, that shrewd Yera Silveira, and perhaps the boy himself. But what was clear to those who speculated upon his existence and its accompanying implications was that isolation was one part of it, that he did not see the world, or was well-hidden from it, and it was clear to them once his visage was seen and his words spoken that he had sprung from this solitude into a unique creature. He spoke unabashedly with the intelligence of that elf he resembled, and yet he interspersed words of fatalistic philosophy with the horrible naivete of a child; he spoke of love, of the unconditional salvation of others. He posited this as reason for living, that change was the definition of life and that he could parse through right and wrong as he saved. And so it was that he was naturally led to the blade; acquainted with fantasy he was, and he understood the narrative structure of the world. That right and wrong occurred in great quantity, that should he wish to insert himself he must be able to mold the world around him. Yet when he saw the world with his own eyes for the first time, and noticed its entropic trappings, its senseless loss and violence, the picture he had erected within his mind began to fall apart. He looked at the innocent blade he held, and reflected in it was sadness and death - the cruel brutality of the world. What was that sword? It was a tool for parting the body of another. How could such a thing offer salvation? How can one save by doing violence, by killing? These questions burned within his mind as he tried not to think of his progenitor, the horrible Lanre Cerusil, who had taken power into his hands and rent what he saw indiscriminately. He tried not to think of those shadows around him who looked upon him expectantly, that in lineage to his father he would become something even more horrible. In the throes of this confusion did a string of fate pull Silwyn forth - to a time and place he marched, because it was demanded of him by his very being - and there he met him, that one thing which remained of his father’s legacy which was good - the bridge between horrible power and the morality that he sought. Hurin Nullivari-Ibarellan, lineage of greatest elves, foremost of warriors of mali, titular ruler of a sky that eclipsed an eagle’s sight in magnitude; those two met, and the elder mali’aheral saw in the young Silwyn an untempered flame, and decided in moments that the son of his dead ally would inherit his legacy. He was taught the greatest paradox of them all; to love through violence. And he was taught to exert great violence, melded by his own ingenuity and the teachings of that legendary swordsman into something unnatural, remaining to be uncovered by the world. Shortly after, Silwyn found the answer to his question. How can you save through harm? How can you do more right than wrong? How can you do good without doing horrible evil? How can a sword-stroke be called love? One question, iterated in countless ways. And he answered it with every fiber of his being, that string of fate uncoiling from him and bridging the gap into a distant, unknown future: “I must be the answer to this question.”

"This shall be my revenge against the Haensemen." came to shriek an Adrian cultist while preparing to defend the port

The Abyss “Not often it is that one seeks to surmount the insurmountable, not often is it that success is achieved in the first trek, nor the second ascension to a terribly steep summit.” There, in the land of dark and looming shadows of the Abyss did the joint broods of the Archdrakaar march in tandem, united for a common cause; a common goal. Their charge spearheaded by not mundane objective but instead carefully concocted and coveted instruction from their source of boons and ichor, Azdromoth. “Sol Invicta.” “Lion of the Abyss.” Within the sunken labyrinth did the nephilim find a most uncanny shrine, a cusp of yore, forgotten, discarded and poorly cared for. Yet in the dark encroach a being most powerful lay dormant, dubbed Sol Invicta, a tarnished Demi-Aengul who had accomplished many-a-feat including the near extinction of Azdromoth’s successors. With a pause was their plan devices, and two horned behemoths, siblings anointed under the guise of the Archdrakaar sailed forth, in company and heralded by one who’s flame did not waver even in the face of adversity and the presence of X*n’s very own spawn. “Brother.” “Sister.” “Herald.” The fallen titan, shrouded in that immortal essence did not tarry to find the alienated spawn of Azdromoth a possible threat, yet were they truly threat? or were they naught but comparable to a sparring partner against the might of the Aengul’s firstborn, the berserker of the Abyss? They would soon find out, for when that baleful rotting claw of the lion was brought forth, that horrendous amalgamation of a weapon is that the hordes of the titan quivered and knew fear like they did in the wake of their tyrant King of Kings. If not by the proportions of said weapon, its mere impossibly terrific nature grasped the very hearts of the heralds and nephilim alike. One tool to devour, one tool to condemn, one tool to exterminate. It did not seem like the triumvirate of diplomats would achieve great distances with the champion of Order and when she sought an apparent strike upon the otherwise restless ranks of the Archdrakaar did the siblings seek her ear, they sought to parley with an arbitrator in its own realm of existence, discarded, yet never bested nor forgotten. Yet the herald in their company saw another opportunity, their bravery manifested in full, and an attempt to deliver a fell-swoop unto X*n’s favoured turned to be what terrific display needed the Chosen of Azdromoth to understand what truly stood beside them. Even when grappled did Sol Invicta relinquish of her binders, displaying nor elegance and grace but an assortment and array of such traits in company of incomparable brutality and precision; strength and finesse that would gore and cleave through the herald in mere seconds, painting the otherwise still grounds with the ichor of one of Azdromoth’s ilk. The first was felled, and while his brood knew this would be the cost of their advances, the mere sight, the mere fact induced terror in the many now kneeling and otherwise stunned excursionists. Mercy had been granted, but not without a price. Sol Invicta afforded the righteous spawn of Dragur’s Firstborn an avenue to depart at once. Yet the reports about their brethren, assailed in the nearing of a massive spire that overlooked the plains of the Abyss alarmed the whelplings, whom sought to fend off an attack on their broods, whom sought to unite as one once more. Was mercy not enough? Perhaps not. For they arrived with the promise of departure, only to assess the assault on their brothers and sisters, commandeered by Sol Invicta’s lieutenant; Forsworn Diante a dashing blinding comet of the likes of Nithrakor. And once they managed to repel his attempts and were reinforced, they sought to storm and besiege the tower which lay bare in the wastes, a formidable element of defiance which harbored many Wyrmstalkers and Vindicators in the service of X*n’s daughter. Their reports had spoken of something within, something that may otherwise grant them an edge, advantage against those who were in perpetual warfare with their kin. Ambition was greater and the draconic forces were spearheaded by mortal man, whom sought to lead with ambition, an ambition that proved reckless once the terror was once more brought before them. A thunderous roar billowed within the horizon, as one brought down a storm from the very unseen heavens, the might of the Aengul of Order personified in that terrible ear-deafening tremor that parted not just the darkened skies but armorials, armaments, flesh, limbs and the very architecture that guarded something unbeknownst to the Titan’s marchers. Was this not enough? Had there not been enough loss in this day? Whilst some laid toppled, dismembered or completely ravaged by the berserker’s powerful innate divine might is that others managed to slip free of harm, unmarred and unbroken did they push forth, felling the ranks of the legions that shielded the ascent. Perhaps there was chance? Perhaps if only a little longer? Alas, the reinforcements continued to descend and meet the surviving line of attackers, and whilst Sol Invicta laid exhausted and entertained by an agile blessed creature, whom utilized its cunning instead of might it would not be enough. Within the ranks of the dragonkin did many usher whispers of a retreat, and others felt the need to continue forth till they were made of stone or simply lost forever in Mordring’s plane of existence. A mortal man made realization, the day was truly lost. Or perhaps not? As the flight managed to secure foothold in the lowest ascent, and Sol Invicta granted them moments to catch their breath is that this man saw eye-to-eye with the discarded terror, entrapped within the realm of another, forever bound to cleave and cast asunder whatever malignant or opposing entity would dare step into her now reclaimed domain. “Fight or be forgotten.” One thought to himself, yet quickly as the berserker removed the armorial that veiled their features, was that words quickly engulfed his mind. “Live to fight another day.” And thus, the hordes of the Archdrakaar managed to slip away in time, only to return from whence they came, through that rift that brought them and now nurtured their retreat. Many-a lesson was found this day, many-a soon to be rectified and improved tactic. Yet one thing was for certain. The real trials had just commenced, and the war they thought they held domain over was naught compared to the faced horrors they fought in this god-forsaken wasteland.

“Some Of these Guards must learn restraint- as must we all as well” said Sofiele as she sat in her home.

The Crown-Prince, Allerick Rostova was in a sense overwhelming ecstatic for the news of a rising heir to the Dutchy of Blackworth. A chamred smile lapped his face upon the formal missive, "Blessed he, vyr son who remains healthy in the wake of God! Rejoiced the young man before returning to his journaling!