Ibn Khaldun 7729 Popular Post Share Posted October 17, 2023 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 Spoiler Night quiet fell upon Bodbwodz, a starry veil glimmered overhead. Cunimund closed his eyes as he felt mountain air buffet his mantle drawn across his shoulders. The cold feels good against my head after my feet walked the hot ash of the Fiendlands. He stood watch in the tallest of the thatch-roofed towers, striding from one end to one end; keeping watch across the valleys of the Reinmaren and the Crownlands. A cruel death that Um'thraka warned me about is farthest in this serenity. His head swiveled, looking over the meadhall to Sendrenx's woodwork shop, pausing and facing a figure pacing between crannogs capped with fur walking in from the north. "Ormar bjarga mér, this is the most civilized place I've seen!" the figure exclaimed, lofting a hand up as Cunimund made a motion with his carnyx warhorn in hand. "That is a first ta' hear, most find us ta' be on ta' precipice af' savagery compared to ta' Heartlanders who live in ta' valleys below from Lemon Hill ta' Whitespire," Cunimund remarked with an inoffensive chortle before greeting, "Wæshæl! No harm will come ta' ye' here." Cunimund looked the man up and down, dressed in thick Highlander garb more suited for winter than for temperate clime. He saw the man drum his fingers nonchalantly against a belt-purse laden with goods near to spilling out. "Ogbiju andlet oiman! We can sit in ta' meadhall down ta' hill a few paces so ye' can unpack wot' goods an' belongings ye've brought an' kick yer' feet up fer' a spell," Cunimund suggested, opening a palm in the direction of the establishment and waving the man through with the other. They both went downhill and reached the meadhall, the pair shuffling through stone mugs until two were found clean and filled them up with spiced metheglin. "Skál!" the man excitedly cried before downing an entire mug's worth of mead. He wiped his soaked beard with the back of a hand and began to undo knots along his belt purse; he had seal pelts, Hyspian bracelets of gold and sapphire, and octagonal coins of no distinct minting. In response, Cunimund stood up and fetched polished fragments of amber, rounded beads of precious coral, hides from bighorn rams, bronzen torcs, and a few books. The two sat at their table, sliding different goods across from one another as they negotiated an exchange. "The goat hide interests me, as does the amber, and the armhringr too," the man said, pointing to the bronzen torcs at the end of his statement. "I'll take ta' seal pelts an' ta' bracelets af' gold an' sapphire," Cunimund said with a tone of agreement. The two exchanged goods for goods, three seal pelts and three Hyspian bracelets for two pieces of amber, two rolls of hide, and two torcs with terminals shaped in the form of crows. "I have one question for you o' member of the Cingedoz tribe" the man began, leaning his head forward and removing his fur cap. He rested it gingerly on the table, the oblique bill facing Cunimund. Cunimund nodded, smiling with the exchange of trade and words. "I want to fight one of your tribe, is this possible?" the man asked, as matter-of-factly as he spoke while trading. Cunimund eyes lit up with full attention. "Would ye' accept me as duel-partner?" Cunimund asked in return. The man nodded. "Let us agree to an arm, a shield, an' a sidearm. Neh' armor an' we shall fight upon ta' earthenwalls facin' Merryweather," the two men nodded as they stood from the table in the meadhall. They went one after the other outside and towards the walls. "I assume like most southlanders, you are disinclined to a fight to the death?" "By mine honor, I accept t'is duel ta' be one to ta' death. Let it naught be known that a Cingedoz warrior flees ta' prospect af' perishing," Cunimund responded. By then, the two stood face to face, ten paces from one another. Cunimund, having chosen a falx as his main arm, brings the blade to rest flat against his nose and his lips embraced against frigid steel. "You are the first one down here to gain my respect o' Cingedoz," the man conceded as he removed his lamellar hauberk and woolen undershirt. His torso glistened in the moonlight with a dozen freshly healed-over scars; his arms and legs seemed like vine-stakes with swirling blue tattoos winding around them shaped in serpentine iconography. He held out a round-shield and held a spear underhand. The Baron began the duel with a single step, crouching slightly and holding his scutum shield forward to afford him coverage from neck to knee. He kept his falx-blade upright and behind the shield. His opponent stepped forward in unison, the two soon coming to clash. Metal against metal, Cunimund's opponent thrust his spear forward and struck against the boss of the scutum shield and worked it over the top of Cunimund's shield. The Cingedoz warrior ducked, pressing his right ear against the back of his shield and swiped his falx from edge to edge against the top lip of the shield; his opponent's spear clanked against the side of the shield as the falx pushed its shaft from over the top of the scutum. The opponent sidestepped as Cunimund pressed forward. Cunimund felt the boss of his opponent's round-shield drum him in the right shoulder, he continued with the momentum of his falx-swing and the opponent's hook to spin completely around and bore down falx-steel against spear-shaft. The Cingedoz took the opportunity to press his scutum shield against his chest as the opponent's spear was thrown back. He is smiling. The opponent hiked up a boot and kicked Cunimund with all his northern might. The shield whined, wood warping slightly, as the boot squarely met the shield and sent Cunimund wheeling backwards. The Baron winced, feeling a sharp pain in his back as he was sent flying into the earthenwall parapet; up and over the Baron fell off onto the other side. Um'thraka warned me that death would give chase to me upon accepting his grimoire, but this is a good death. A hale death dictated by honor. Cunimund gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of him, having fallen off the wall and onto the snow caped ground below. Strong breath came to him before clear vision, a blurry figure grew to nearly encompass his sight. His hands reacted instinctively, gripping a cold shaft of wood that stuck out of his chest. Yellow-green eyes met his as his face froze, a death mask set in rigor. "Thank you good warrior. . ," the opponent bore witness. 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 Spoiler Men, women, and horses streamed up through the Langkette Mountains towards Bodbwodz. Ser Ferdinand Barclay led a troop of Minitzers towards the Cingedoz village as towers of smoke teetered with the carrying winds lofted above. The first to arrive crossed themselves and bowed their heads with modesty. A decapitated body with an impalement wound bounced with all its dead weight, having been strung up from the earthenwalls that faced Merryweather. Scattered belongings including two books written by the Baron laid around a slight impression in the ground below. The firefighters passed through the walls and found crannogs, hovels, and towers crumbling in on themselves in a burning inferno. A single set of footprints and drag marks from stools dotted a beeline from the meadhall to the centre of the village. Only the runestone circle stood unaffected, though scorch marks from flame flashes and coughed embers streaked the limestone. Spoiler Incredible Roleplay. To help keep the awesome combatant's identity secret to avoid metagaming, his RP name is omitted from the narrative post and crossed out from the screenshots provided. I've had a blast since returning to the server and being able to introduce an incredible cultural entity that is the Cingedoz, but I intend to fade back into the sunset playing more of a window dressing character in another nation. I intend to keep contributing by bringing more and more lore in-game through Minecraft book transcribing, but I will no longer play a leader whether of a nation (like back in Aegis), or a settlement, lair, or cultural group. If anyone is interested in taking and leading the Cingedoz, feel free to hit me up on Discord! Likewise, there is a potential idea that me and a few cats are playing with where the Cingedoz would be revived as Undead thralls. If you like this idea instead, hit me up! Have a wonderful day and have fun playing the game! 42 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Laeonathan 3981 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Raziel Amethil, without knowledge about the tragedy that unfolded amongst the Cingedoz idly remembered the many interactions he had with that tribe. Since three generations he had known them - so he thought. Yet, would he get to know a fourth? 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
marikandaperc 1166 Share Posted October 17, 2023 The Prince and Princess of Minitz had spotted the fire that devoured the neighbouring Barony, and with haste did they ring the bell and ride to assistance. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with gruesome sight. "Where is the Baron, anyway..?" Avalon inquired of her comrades while they proceeded to set off the fires. Only moments later did they find the decapitated body, and with sorrowful gaze and hushed prayers, blessed the man with proper burial. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jihnyny 2572 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Spoiler this drives the masculine urge within me to go back to my tribal roots and fight for my tribe and honor 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Olox_ 3417 Share Posted October 17, 2023 [♫] The Prince of Merryweather visited the grave of his old friend "At least now you live up there at peace. Just you and your books..." Heinrich smiled weakly, clearly saddened by the loss of his friend 8 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ryanark 1954 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Sir Hannibal received the news from the Cardinal Arnaud himself, the deafening silence from the congregation's standing ovation to Cunimund rang, a harrowing death knell from the bells of the Priory of St. Jude. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sander 3156 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Cardinal Arnaud rode back to Aaun from Haense as soon as he heard, taking Sir Hannibal and Gerard Ouvrier with him to Bodbwodz. There they mourned at Cunimund's grave as they lamented the loss of their friend. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
DancingZebra267 397 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Gerard Ouvrier would stand by Cardinal Arnaud and Sir Hannibal as they arrived at Bodbwodz. Together, they paid their respects to the legendary Lord Cunimund, honoring his memory and legacy. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
SimplySeo 5274 Share Posted October 17, 2023 [MUSIC] Among the frozen foothills of the Alimere, a long-dead Barbarian King listens as the tale is recounted by none-other than Cunimund's killer, his hands resting on the beard of his Greataxe, as if it were a cane. Jormunharr Ingmornesson, Undead King of the Svarlings in Aevos, lets a cruel grin grow as his is presented with the Head of Cunimund, and a fell, eldritch tome in tribute. He barks an inhuman laugh, as desiccated appendages glide oe'er the binding of Cunimund's book, He looked down to the other, murderous Svarl that knelt before him in fealty, and spoke. "Það gleður mig að vita að einn af þessum sunnlensku hvolpum dó með reisn."('It gladdens me to know at least one of those south-dwelling whelps died with some dignity.') The one who was Chief and King to Cunimund's killer spoke again- As he did, Cunimund's head was kicked back towards the other, it was not his to claim, after all. The head belonged to the victorious warrior. His shall be the honor, to lay that skull in tribute at the feet of the Corpse-King, in the Halls of Nárgrindheim. "Máttugur er verkið, að drepa keppinautinn. Hefði ég umbunað að gefa, þá myndi ég bjóða þér það núna, en ég geri það ekki- Svo í staðinn, þá samþykki ég trúfesti þína, höfuðdrápari, og bað þig að standa og taka upp nýja spjótið þitt. Það eru Sunnlendingar í löndum mínum, frændi, borgir þeirra eru byggðar á gröfum míns og ættingja minnar - Við munum reka þá út eða taka okkar blóðugu skuldir." ('Mighty is the deed, of killing a a rival Chieftain. Had I reward to give, I would offer it to you now, but I do not- So instead, I accept your fealty, Chief-Killer, and bade you stand, take up your new spear. There are Southlanders in my lands, kinsman, their cities are built on the tombs of me and my kindred- We will expel them, or take our bloody due.') With those words, Jormunharr dismissed the Chiefkiller from their mountain-top, and opened The First Script... [TO BE CONTINUED VIA FORUM POST] 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
PecenyRohlik 235 Share Posted October 17, 2023 "Rest now, good Cunimund," Witold murmured as he learned of his the Cingedoz's death. "Tend the libraries in the Seven Skies." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
JustAngel69 478 Share Posted October 17, 2023 Philip Laurent shed a tear as he read of good Cunimunds death. "I had wronged the man and he forgave me, now my friend is lost..." 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ibn Khaldun 7729 Author Share Posted October 18, 2023 9 hours ago, Jihnyny said: Reveal hidden contents this drives the masculine urge within me to go back to my tribal roots and fight for my tribe and honor Spoiler I'll never stop feeling the urge. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FashionBeard 224 Share Posted October 18, 2023 Halston Veyont had received the news from Cardinal Arnauld, standing in the Castle Priory. his jaw dropped as he lurched his head forward, frrowing his brows for a moment in shock and pause.. he'd regain his posture soon after with a sour expression asking with one word all he needed to know "How?.."Upon hearing he had been decapitated and killed he'd say "I spoke to him twice in my time, he'd given me many books that now sit in my library. I've seen his influence all over canondom; Haense, Aaun, Veletz, Petra, every church i've laid eyes on had his transcribed texts. I ask all here for a moment of silence.. to honor this great man who'd met an untimely end."Halston would tilt his head down and interlock his fingers, closing his eyes and remaining completely silent. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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