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  2. EAT MORE ROCKS

  3. "What dose one do with the time gifted to you???"- Timothy boukers

  4. Literally 1984 

  5. Diogen

    please advise

    i agree with the 2k-5k minas mark, seeing how your art is really high quality and well done. i'd say price it by the type of art you're offering, like if it's bust then 2k, half body 3.5k, full body 5k, etc then people of different wealth will be able to commission you depending on what they're looking for and you get to rake in minas without having to target just the top 5 wealthiest
  6. Time for another day of Questing and Adventure in the life of the Destined King of the Musin! 🐭👑

  7. Today
  8. "My lady..." Uttered a timid voice, as the door to the Baroness' chambers clicked open. "A letter has arrived." "Ich should imagine it has." Came another voice, light-hearted in its approach. The Dame rose from her seat at her vanity and sought to pluck the letter from the hand's of her household servants. "Spasiba, Agafa." She mused, piercing the seal with a worn dagger so that she might pore over its contents. At the letter's conclusion, a subtle untamed laughter escaped the Baroness. "Shall I fetch an ink pot..?" Agafa piped up, already halfway out the door. "Nie, nie..." Rosalind spoke, quelling the laughter that had escaped her lungs as she did so. "Ich shall remain true to my words and let the matter lie, Ich ceased my quarrel with those of lesser judgement at the battle of Winburgh... Now, where are ae littles doves?" A smile blessed her expression as she rose, casting the letter to the flames before seeking the company of her children.
  9. 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.” "I was being chased by a pack of Orcs for about a mile east, until I gazed upon the glowing lights of this small town." I then study the damp mossy tent as my cold hands quiver from the freezing wind. Unsure of how the old hag will react to what I said, I take a step back unsure of who I should trust.
  10. 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?)) Example: "Hello! My name is Mistrien and I came from Elvenesse!" I blurted out excitedly. My green eyes glistened and I scooted closer to the old hag.
  11. THE FOLLOWERS OF CHAOS were something HEDWIG had not heard of with some time; not since her uncle's near-death. Yet, the letter she read - what had occured upon her early absence from the circus - had struck her deep. Her fingers wrapped around the missive and gripped the parchment tight. "This must be put to an end." She declared with grit, "I will not live in fear of The Beast and its dreaded ways." Despite her weary heart, the Lechian girl mustered to send her own letter, though this one a matter of private concern.
  12. who's gonna get banned next oooo 

  13. Vindacus was loitering, flipping crabs and jellyfish on the beach during his vacation. For he much enjoyed the fresh air when he received news of this incident... upon reading the letter sent to him by a good friend he was outraged shocked even... "Does he not know?!?!" he blurted out loudly "to think... they would dare assail I?! Vindacus?!? son of god?!? was this... 'pontif' if that even is his real name?!? informed of mine standing?!?!?" he shrieked to the seagulls fluttering overhead. "SUCH BLATANT HERESY UPON GOD'S CHOSEN CHILD SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!! TO BREAK INTO MINE HOUSE IS AKIN TO DEATH!! THIS PONTIFF SHALL BE CRUCIFED FOR HIS UNHOLY SINS!!"
  14. azdrazi are so dragon’s dogma coded 

    1. FlemishSupremacy

      FlemishSupremacy

      So true

       

      buy the azdrazi polymorph dlc for only 1.99 so u can alter your character

    2. Honourary

      Honourary

      never coming back from getting the milk toodles sorry

      @FlemishSupremacy is your teacher now

  15. [!] A sealed envelope, containing a neatly folded handwritten letter, is delivered to the House Valkonen. It is addressed only to Dame Rosalind Valkonen. Dame Rosalind Valkonen, Read my words well. As a mother, I understand the instinct to protect one's children. However, I never thought it appropriate to involve oneself in the trivial disputes of the young. Is it truly necessary to intervene in children's affairs? My child has shared her perspective on recent events, and I assure you, she is not dishonest. It's regrettable that she wasn't entirely hospitable to your daughter, but it's an important lesson that not everyone will be friendly. This is a reality I've taught my daughter, and perhaps it could be a valuable lesson for yours as well. The Haeseni people are generally known to not be so thin-skinned and weak, is this not so? My daughter has faced her share of insults and threats, yet I chose not to retaliate against those children. Even in the instance of a group of Haeseni children threatening to cut out her tongue for a careless remark she made, and apologized for. Instead, she has learned to mend those relationships on her own. I have instructed my daughter in the importance of kindness, respect, and the necessity of apologies when she errs. She has faced the repercussions of her actions but will not apologize for misdeeds she did not commit. I am indifferent to your title or any other; we are all Haeseni. Despite being a commoner, as you've pointed out, my contributions to our kingdom are significant and warrant respect for my family and me. Remember, it is the commoners' hard work that sustains our kingdom. Your offer of mercy is not something I seek. As her mother, I, alongside her guardians, bear the responsibility of disciplining her. Should Petra find herself in trouble, please inform me, Lady Marian Weiss, Lady Ophelia Weiss, Firress Makaela Mondblume, or Forgemaster Rakhnar Uristson. Any attempt to punish my daughter on your part will be met with a much worse fate for yourself. This is not a threat but a promise. I once regarded you as a friend, but your recent actions have breached a trust I cannot easily forget. It is the adults who attempt to harm a child that truly act barbarously. I hope you will reflect on this as you move forward. Warmest regards, Firress Esmeray Luceran
  16. On her return to Novkursain, Felyska came across a copy of the letter from the serving staff. In her new return, much had already happened. Much she had learned. And although she had come to know this tale already, she still read the letter with some distaste. Folding the letter with a delicate touch, as much as he one non-broken arm would allow, she kept it on-hand. A new wound to lay on the old. Home was a complicated place. How easy it was for people - fallible, terrible people - to turn their backs. A prior conversation left her wanting to set the whole thing down. But reading it anew flared her temper in more than one way. And that rotten, deep wound festered.
  17. A young Siegmund Weiss eagerly awaits his enlistment date in the Brotherhood!
  18. Why do it for free?

  19. Heir remade from Holy Ash of Tor-Azdroth. Remade. Reborn. Destined purpose. Destined Death, defiled; defied. Not once more, will it die. Not again shall it sunder, and cry, nor weep or fly ever so high, or again shall it fall until it dies. -The Regent A luminous thread of ash with woven strings attached betwixt the Nephilim's crude talons had intricately hovered over the thrumming oval-shaped orb, its intensity boiling as it presence was shakable, nigh tangible even behind that prison-made-shell, those strands of ash waved against it, harmlessly webbing its shield-shelled form, as cinders of ash balanced upon the strings and blew across it. The Nephilims jaw lightly dropped, hanging, balancing at the roots of amazement, constant awe smothered those sharp eyes, a constant reminder, a repeating cause that ushered sweet-iron duty. Words of a deep-draconic, impossible to understand, they were alien to even the ash and soil it stood upon, the fires themselves boomed with a mad ferocity as it sung their repeated song. ♫Dearest mine kin. Chosen prince. Oh hear my words ♫ ♫Taketh the winds, crack and shatter clouds and rest upon our hearts of fire♫ ♫Like distant thunder you will sunder, upon our ears.♫ ♫Chosen prince, I sing unto you like a sweet-melody will you be born♫ ♫Saveth the king from his damnation, chosen hier be his blade♫ ♫Thus it is decree, taketh thine titles- It thou devotion; duty to the empire.♫ ♫ Chosen hier, the sky’s are yours too walk; tread the air- fly and defy the circumstances of our race. ♫ ♫ The puissant prince will grow to unmatched heights reveling in the idea of power and knowledge. ♫ ♫ Rival a mountain in all perspectives, oh Chosen prince I sing unto thee. - Lead us, througheth the burning path ♫ ♫ To victory will you bring us, aid us to our final charge. - Those cowering pests shall sunder, crash and fall. The foundations topple upon the known world. ♫ ♫ To victory our chains shall fall loose, then freedom is yet a blink away. ♫ ♫ Heir of fire ♫ ♫ Heir of trueborn flame ♫ ♫ The Chosen Prince ♫ The Nephilim repeated that old poem which manifested from his lips at the peak of old tor-azdroth, at the summit laid the stone An-Gho, even in death his hums were heard throughout the melody, in complete sync, a mad dyad placed wonderfully together. The song was sung right after the battle between Morur’ei and Vothdrem, the death of Vothdrem, though perhaps deserved, secretly the Nephilim was burdened with a guilt, untold and remaining unknown he would savor the pain for the foe to face. Yet nothing came of it, the Nephilim had wondered was even repeating the same old song, appealing? No. Of course not. Perhaps the Nephilim lacked understanding, perhaps it was that ignorance, blinded by his dragonic-pride, yet nevertheless, too much wisdom, too much guise did it have to shame itself under guilt. His idea of the orb was a bewildering mystery, he had only a complex variety of theories; some held sense, some had not- yet he was willing to take the chance, willing to sing any blasphemy, any sacrifice to see the odds. Tor-Praeth The coming Age of the Dragon. Age of flame. “Oh you cosmic wonder of creation, I wonder what mantle shall you bear? Who’s name you shall sing, a creature born in this age, to live in the next.” -Azlihessan as he splattered his blood upon a stone tablet, the very blood depicting words upon rock. “Where will you bring the flock of the Titan? I am sure it will be great heights, greater then what I could ever reach.” The Regent then uttered, after having the Age of Nephilim across Almaris bless the unlived-drake, unhatched, destiny waiting to be made living. I yearn for the day, to be a second witness of a new ascension gift returned unto us, rightfully so, bare the mantle of re-made, made prince under the blood of Azdromoth Herald of the apocalyptic fate of those damned cretins in their wayward heavens. The day your roar beckons the call, the day this object spurns or toils with anything, something, will be a blessed day, a day where the age of dragonic-kind will no longer merely survive, it shall thrive. The pillars of the sky dismantled, as the heart of the sky is ripped out and its blood rains a terror that will shake them unthinkably so, they wait for their chance, yet we will them rid of every opportunity, we will reveal them for the cowards they are, their weaknesses exposed, then humiliated for that is their worth. They feared my father before his days of birth- For even then, he peaked the heavens and mused at their decrepit flaws. Dragur witnessed the amusement as your First foundation fell, now watch as this new-age comes and my father's prestige proceeds your own. Yet he already has, a thousand years ago- When Asioth was discovered, then re discovered, then recovered with a lax tongue, and a crooked pen. His sons His daughters The heirs of his coming Empire of fire. …………. Cloudbreaker I await the day. Service you owe; your duty will be your mantle.
  20. Raktzu sat cross-legged in his northern abode, his claws etching the following message into a canvas of hide for the Jūshoku: "Raktzu will be interviewed. Balance is the way of the hunter, this one is forever dedicated to the Hunt." This is all.
  21. Caius I reads over the report, pleased with Gerard's diligent work. While talking to Cardinal Frantzisko of Albarosa, the topic of the Grandmaster comes up, and Caius lets out a loud, jovial laugh. "I don't doubt that this man has his place reserved him in the Skies. What an exemplary knight, that Gerard! Anyways. . what has come of the next Bull?"
  22. ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 Date: 12th of Malin's Welcome, 1970 To the flock of Canondom, It is with a heavy heart that I must report a tragic incident that occurred during the arrival of the carnival in Whitespire, Aaun. Amidst the festivities, chaos broke out when a rope snapped, leading to a performing artist falling from a great height. Investigation revealed that a hooded figure, identified as a "Follower of Chaos," was responsible for this dreadful act. Despite our efforts to reason with the individual, he persisted in spreading blasphemous rhetoric, claiming that our faith in GOD was false. He refused to remove his hood, citing religious reasons, and even attempted to strike me with a dagger when we insisted. However, divine intervention spared me, and he was quickly apprehended. Upon further interrogation, the cultist revealed ominous warnings about a "great beast" that threatens our existence. Despite our best efforts to extract more information, he resorted to self-mutilation by biting off his own tongue, rendering him incapable of speaking. In light of his irredeemable actions and the imminent danger he posed, John of Aaun decreed that the cultist was of no further use to us. Thus, he was swiftly brought to justice, and his remains were consigned to the purifying flames of a pyre, ensuring that he could no longer spread his vile influence. Let this be a stern warning to all those who harbor heathen thoughts and seek to sow seeds of doubt among the faithful. Know that the arm of GOD's justice shall reach even the darkest corners of heresy, and those who defy the sanctity of canon shall fat the righteous fury of GOD. Yours faithfully, Holy Ser Gerard, Grandmaster of the Holy Order of Saint Jude
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