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HOUSE HOREN


Mickaelhz

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John d’Arkent breaks into a fit of uproarious laughter, plunging the geriatric judge into a coughing fit.

“Look, Edward,” he waves the missive to his bastard grandson, “The syphilis has reached their brains!”

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43 minutes ago, Mickaelhz said:

 in the absence of living legitimate issue

42 minutes ago, Mickaelhz said:

- That undeniable proof exists that the usurper Peter III is not, in fact, the first born child of Emperor Antonius I, but rather a bastard child of the Imperial impostor Calculus de Sola

 

A letter is soon sent back to the desolate hell-hole in which such a missive spawned from-- and for good measure, throughout the Empire.

 

”It is with great confusion, it appears, that such claims of illegitimacy are made at all. Perhaps it is the Inferi hell-fire that rattles the minds of these make-believe bastards of my son, Persus.

May this letter serve as a means to end this “absence of a living legitimate issue.” For just as Persus is my son, so is his elder brother, His Imperial Majesty, Peter III. To claim foul-play is preposterous; only had a wild magician swapped infants in the womb, would such be possible. For your own sakes, I pray you are only but pretenders, for such accusations are unfathomably embarrassing.”

 

Signed,

Empress-Dowager Karenina of Alban, widow to His Imperial Majesty Antonius I

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John Renault Horen-Johan, descendant of the second son to PETER II and the obvious true-born heir to the line of the Johannians after the Emperor Aurelius squashed his two year old, three times great uncle’s head against the wall of his nursery like a melon shook his head very disapproving, as his bloodline was not gone nor dissolved.

 

“All those descended from the line of the Duke of Furnstock Charles Elliot or the baby murderer Aurelius I are snakes and thieves who’s very existence supports the killing of infants and the bedding of sisters. Just ask Paul Varoche.”

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Feno, despite often not taking interest in the politics of Oren, chuckles at the missive which has reached Sutica’s walls. “This rabbit hole we call a war keeps getting deeper by the moment.” She hums as she reads further “If this Antonyus has proof of Emperor Peter III being a usurper of the throne, I personally pray for his and House Horen’s quick victory. This war must end or we will all suffer to this invasion.”

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Simon Basrid reviews the missive with a bitter distaste.

 

“Salamander skinchangers defiling names from their sacred grave. It’s as some bloody children’s fable.”

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“Where was this national pride like thirty years ago.” He flailed his hands.

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A hooded traveller would make its way towards Sutica before getting halted by a guard asking for name and state of business where the hooded traveller responds with"an old friend that goes by the name of Wyn II var Norton... "he'd say to the guard before replying "i am here to meet with someone i havent seen in a while..." the guard would let Wyn II through. Once inside he would take a seat in the tavern while waiting for his contact. Among the people inside the tavern there were some papers lying left and right between all those he would grab this Restoration of house Horen'and a smirk would escape his face. He would remember the time his grandfather Wyn var Norton that was once knighted by Aurelius Horen among some other knights before the betrayal. He would remember the words of his father that passed it down through his grandfather to him that 'the actions of one Horen doesnt brand the whole house as such." With that sentence Wyn II decided to leave Sutica early leaving a note behind stating "going to hangmen keep, need some information..."

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“The farce of ‘liberation’ finally ran out of currency, I see.” 

 

Achille Nicephore shook his head, looking again at the red, black and gold hanging on his wall of treasures. Thoughts of mighty Adria, beloved motherland, filled his head.

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Grigori, after some diligent studying of tomes, recollection of records, and general learnification, finally comes to his correct assertion “Huh, so it is being of the truth.” he says, rubbing upon his bald head “The tony of the being of the big is of the being of the owning of the rightfulness of the ruling of the house of the being of the Horen.” he exclaims in his thick Lakian accent, nearby Alisa, the High Keeper sighs, regretting allowing him to become a Keeper.

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4 minutes ago, Professorus said:

Alisa, the High Keeper sighs, regretting allowing him to become a Keeper.

The High Keeper’s sigh was a heavy one indeed. “Grigori, just leave the Southerners to their nonsense. I have no clue what you’re trying to say about it anyway.” She rubbed the forehead of her mask, lacking the heart to tell poor Grigori to just get lost. With that, she returned to reading her books, and wondering if she, too, could cause so much controversy with a single document as this Horen business had done.

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4 hours ago, VIROS said:

“Peter III was crowned by the Church of the Canon, and we alone determine the rightful Emperor,” comments James II to his court. “Every human is the blood of Ex. Horen; nearly every noble is a relative of Ex. Godfrey. Do not worry yourself with these pretenders.” He then quotes the Gospel 7:2-10

 

“But it came that Reynard, Godfrey’s seneschal, envied the blessings of the Lord. Long had he held the crown of Renatus in waiting for the line of Horen, and now he hated that he had not taken it. So Reynard went to Godfrey’s servant, Zacarias, and spoke ‘See, Godfrey has stolen your kingdom. You are the blood of our last king, who took the throne in Daniel’s departing, and who is Godfrey to steal it? Who can know his lineage and his claim?’ But Zacarias was loyal and he saidYou have forgotten the blessings of the Lord, who by Eshtael brought Godfrey to us. He is a pure son of Horen, as are you and I, and that is lineage enough; God gave him over to us as our king, and that is claim enough.’ And Zacarias told Godfrey of Reynard’s treason, and Reynard was banished from that land.
 

Uthred looks down, and ponders to himself. 

"Has the church forgotten the last time they involved themselves in affairs such as this? The war of 2 Emperors nearly saw their destruction..."

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In Kaedrin boisterous laughs resounded from the Tavern as a group of Adunians and Kaedreni were read the message by the town crier. Padraig O’Rourke looked to his Cousins with a look of bemusement. “Oi Donnie boy do ye know w’at ah just can’t figure? How de feck do ye gut ah Horen from ah wee little halfin and ah big ole lizard?” He paused before he elbowed Jonah Elendil and his face with split by a tobacco stained grin. ”T’ree pint of stout and ah big feckin stool!” He roared with drunken laughter 

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Over in the east a Countess lofts a hand in confusion, she doesnt really care for the long drawn out missives, but all that travelled forth from her maw was: “So, here is proof the emperor is a bastard.. thats all I really gather from most of this..”

 

”Oh.. and an undead.. odd”

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Tylos of Guise receives the missive while still at sea fighting the Barbary Pirates the AIS had warned him of. His ship sets course for Arcas as he pens his reply, 

 

“To Your Imperial Majesty, Emperor of Galahar, Lord of the Dreadlands, impudent sack of filth, son of a *****, Sutican court-eunuch, bed-warmer of Orcs, neutered dog, half-Elven mutt, lieutenant to Iblees, rightful heir to naught but a sword down the sewer you call your throat, 

 

Your audacity has been noted. Like all uppity bandit lords, you sully the name of Exalted Horen by daring to use his good name to legitimise your gypsy fantasies as rightful claims. As you yourself admitted, the limp-wristed whoremonger Persus fathered a child with every damned harlot and prostitute in Arcas, and you hold rightful claim from being one of hundreds to crawl out of some syphilis-ridden *****? You aren’t even fit to wipe my arse, you lowborn son of a *****.

 

Let me tell you this, you brothel-raised brat. To have your arse burn every time you **** blood does not make you “Dragon-Blood”, it makes you a diseased degenerative wretch just like your mother and father. You aren’t fit to sweep the streets of Oren, let alone rule them. The only time you’ll ever parade down Helena will be your execution march, if the Crown even has the folly to grant some vagrant filth the likes of you the privilege of a formal execution. Myself, I’d rather you get slit open and boiled over a fire like the swine you are. Shan’t be my sword, though, of course, it would be a great dishonour to lower myself to the level of a petty butcher. But when the ISA have you squealing like the pig you are, I’ll drink to your youth, I assure you. 

 

Your brother in GOD,

the Prince of Alstion(tm)”.

 

 

 

super-bowl-knight.jpg?w=1000

 

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Livia mutters under her breath “That was a weird thing to do anyways...”

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