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Horenic Covenant of Our Most Exalted Father

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Apricette

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“Godan bless,” Esfir exhaled in great relief, a grin spreading over her features. “Let us hope we are forever united in faith, if niet by state.”

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King Mark yaauns from afar, “It’s so joever, even more so then it was 16 years ago.”

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"To deny an invitation of such a thing, one must be a fool...." The Dame murmured beneath her breath as she reviewed the document and its signatures. Still, it brought her ease with those present and willing upon it.

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An arcane man with violet eyes peered upon such news. Plans within plans, victories within victories,

 

and this was a large victory.

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Robert Tiberius Alstion, the truest successor to the grand legacy of the House of Horen,  applauds the signing of this mighty covenant from his new Reinmaren homeplace.

 

"Let the divine Will take its course an' right tha' which has strayed from Him" he remarks, feeling especially gleeful and holy today. He would take his son, Martin, to the great Monastery of St. High Pontiff Caius to instill lessons of faith upon the toddler in preparation of what he would hope to come.

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And so the Mali'ker warrior turned his carbarum hammer in his hands, before preparing himself for the battle that is to come. Meracahe had never been to war and quietly dreaded it.

 

"I do not envy you," he thought to himself of this 'Horenic' (Jorenic) Covenant. "But let us see what your mettle is."

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13 minutes ago, Nectorist said:

“We have been doing different variations of this song and dance for close to a century now. Please just initiate the war against Numendil and the Church so we can skip a few years of the back and forth and get right into the action,” says Albatross Volaren from the metaphorical sidelines, that being his quiet abode, ready to watch.


Ser Trent Ticeps, now working in the Imperial Retirement Home, gently spooned a portion of mushed carrots into a wooden bowl before offering it to the aging scholars. As the days passed, Volarens' frailty had become more pronounced, and he demanded more attention in his waning days. 
 

“For all your years,” Ser Trent spoke, his voice laced with a touch of amusement, “I thought you’d remember that before Hanese and its vassal states enter into a state of war, they must first posture to the world, proving they are in the right—and that the ghosts they’re chasing are, indeed, real. For what fun is war - without the hypocrisy of the crows?”

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Istvan grinned at the prospect of conflict.

"We are so back."

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Bon'Ox is having flashbacks to the Coalition War.

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1 hour ago, erictafoya said:


AD_4nXf4n_FxUceJS1CnFylKH83r2_dYBAQ9QevBWIJwPaQ6KHVsRYyz2892804MRrzZhx4YJqpQCIaEeQ2lMPv30IGvV_DAAH0FCibT3maShBiymtJS7dTD9pcdaL4-UlYbBIeHnnkcyg?key=QsvvfXoNx3Q0vAES4FxRtm-6

Under the night stars of the highest tower of Haense, a man plays a game in his lonesome as he meditated on his most chaotic year yet.
 

The man places a piece forward. "Rook to D8", he said to himself. It was only when his closest knight and paramount, Ser Andrei, chased his way up the high tower and hand delivered the good news to him. 

 

Then, and only then, did he break his meditation to utter simple, yet impactful, words.

"United in faith, never in state"

 

Satisfied with the news, and seemingly his game, the man rose from the floor and left the board as it were. Strange. . . It seems he was awaiting the next move.

Spoiler

 

 

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Johanna Vuiller would pray that night. She prayed for the safety of a certain family member, for the future as a whole. 

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Within the home of her Ivanovich rescuers and benefactors, Knight Katharina of Calliopeburg knelt before a posted suit of ancient, ancestral plate, polishing it with great care and anointing it with blessed oils. Painful were these movements to her body, sore and malnourished still after years of captivity; she reflected on the words of her captors, who tormented her with news of the outside world she thought embellished - but once freed, she found the true state of the realm much worse than in her wildest nightmares.

The end of history, they called it. Well, she thought, we'll end it with a spectacle.


 

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"He clipped your wings. Bound you in chains. And threw you in the river."  

There He stood; That Ludovar. His gaze settling before the memory tree; Within the meadowlands of his mother's home. 

"Alas, the waters of Gamesh dissolved your chains. And he was ashamed when you appeared before his court." 

 

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**the old and tired Valerie, would be reading the missive not for an interrest in such political metters but for the strong and blind support she always has for her little and baby sister, cheerishing and support her on her work hours. Viola, the young grandaughter.....was in the kitchen making coffee for both of them, after days of work and sleepless nights, dedicated who to family and who like valerie to her health and her work as a doctor, they found themselves stopping their work to congratulate each other on this good news, knowing the tireless work of all petra and Amelie herself.

 

"Always a good job, my little sister...finally someting you were eager to do! Continue like this, and make all of us proud of you!"

 

 

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"Hey I remember something like this! My grandvater Gottfried the Cannonside was in one of these." Theodemar nodded

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