Gutz

Margarita de Joannes would sit within her room practicing her baah's whilst laying on her bed. She'd turn her attention to her sister at her questioning, propping her cheek upon her elbow. "Ja! We can ask her at dinner!" The young de Joannes would beam, "We can collect tons of pretty flowers! And Olivia can help too- if we find her.." 

Nenica Barclay offers her husband a curt smile, enveloping him into a short embrace. "Welcome home my dear," She'd hum, her emerald eyes meeting his facade once more with a proud smile.

Sister Eloise signs the Lorraine cross upon her chest as she recalls the short time she had spent with Sister Ella within the Abbey. Her head would then bow in a mournful prayer-- and her hands clasped before her bosom. "May she find happiness with GOD in the Seven Skies" The nun would then murmur to herself as she rose her head, looking up to the ceiling of the Abbey.

A certain Hanseti-Ruskian woman would read over the missive. She'd swirl her flask in silence, sitting at her desk in thought. "Niet surprised, she was..troubled, since the day we met," She'd speak aloud, accompanied by a  dismissive wave. She'd take a sip from her flask with a hiss. "Hope she stays dead- 'specially after her fiasco at the noose"

Somewhere near the grounds of the Ruthern keep, one of the very children of the missing woman played. Heinrika sat amongst the familiar wintery sheen sniffling whilst drawing in the snow with a gloved hand. Whether these snifflings were from the cold or her missing mamej were unclear; however, the woman's warm eyes were present in her mind nevertheless. "Yam sure mamej will come back soon-" She'd assure her companion: Matilda the hen. "Mari misses mamej very much! So does papej, so she'll come back to us. She has to!"

Somewhere lost in a place with many names, which was similar to the woman who held many names, the news of the man's death would reach her. She'd give a slight chuckle, "my husband, dead at last!" Oh how 'Odette' cherished the news, whereupon she turned in her lost and unmarked grave. "May he rot in eternal suffering just as I have" the woman of many names spoke into emptiness, as sin had cradled her own eternal slumber. Conclusively, a murderer, a shape-shifter, and a wife whom spat at her husband's surname until the very end. 

IGN:  _GoblinN__ 

DISCORD: Goblin#5567

------

NAME: Maria Giovannie Salvatore 

AGE: 16

CHOSEN BACHELOR'S DEGREE: Science

CHOSEN MAJOR/S: Medicine + Herbology/Botany

ADDRESS OF RESIDENCE:

DO YOU REQUIRE A DORMITORY TO LIVE ON CAMPUS?: no

DO YOU REQUIRE A SCHOLARSHIP? (Each case for subsidised tuition will be looked at independently): no

To anyone who knew Nenica Barclay- personally- they’d know she tended to bake abundantly during times of stress, or even sadness. It had even been gone as far to be even given a name: stress baking. Now was not an exception to that in Nenica’s personality. After Vespira had shared the news of Jane’s disappearance with her, the woman’s old room in the Dubois manor had quickly become filled counter to counter with any baked goods she could manage out of what little ingredients she had left behind upon her move to Reinmar. Amongst the fray of breads and cookies, sat said ginger haired woman on the floor- head buried tiredly in her tear and flour stained dressings. The dressings she wore now were still from the recent passing of Mariana Dubois- though it looked as though they weren’t coming off any time soon.

Silence overtook the room as her hand lowered from her ginger locks- her reflection in the mirror before her peering in turn, meeting Nenica’s olive eyes as she looked up. Her usual rich-colored attire had been swiftly replaced with a ebony-black gown, having taken up such dressings shortly after being relayed the news of Vaeri’s passing. Yes, she’d come to hate Vaeri over the years, their fervent bickering only furthering such- but in the moment she’d come to long for the embrace of her “auntie”, her mother: Mariana Dubois. She’d recall all the times she’d hide behind the woman’s skirt from Lavinia’s tease, the times she’d sit in wonder at the dinner-table or parties at the sight of her wine-ridden auntie, or perhaps even the fuzzy memory of her being plucked from the orphanage by Mariana. She’d think of her disownment, her mother-less wedding, and now her children’s lives, who were no longer able to recognize this deceased woman as ‘grand-mama’. Her reflection would sadden at the recollection of these old events and realizations, maybe even some tears upon her cheek that she would never admit to. And thus she’d adorn skirts of ink, her ashen facade covered by a simple raven-hued lace- not for the passing of Vaeri, but for the final passing of her mother: Mariana Dubois. 

Nenica Barclay brings a hand to her lips as she stared at the invitation with wide eyes. “Oh my-” she’d start with a saddened, yet joyous smile at the idea of their marriage. “My brother and Vespira..Why, I remember the day I gave him my blessing to marry her when we were young” She’d dab at her eyes with a handkerchief as tears of joy threatened to spill!

"Ah! Finally my dearest Ivy will join me in the married life!" Nenica Barclay quips joyously from in her room the Du Bois manor, stashing the invite -per usual- to reminisce over at later dates. "Quite the couple they are, really-" 

Nenica Barclay glances over the invitation, having to do a double take at such a notice to throughly read through. "Finally! The long awaited wedding of Jane and Borgy!" she'd hum to herself with a beaming smile, tucking away the invitation to keep for many years to come!

3 hours ago, Areon said:

Oisin frowns as Nenica fails to invite the numerous and highly entertaining O’Rourkes. 

Nenica Dubois squints, getting the sudden feeling she had forgotten something important. She’d let out a small gasp, feeling perhaps a bit of embarrassment- “oh my!” she’d mumble, quickly writing an invite for the O’Rourkes family and sending it their way by bird!

· • ❝〔The Union of Dubois and Barclay〕❞ •

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

[Owyn’s Light, 1779]

[…]

[!] A praline, white dove delivers ornate letters, that have been neatly pressed and written with a prudent hand, to the peers and subjects of the esteemed Orenian Empire

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Owyn’s Light, 1779- Chaplain Alfred Barclay, and Nenica Dubois will join in holy matrimony in the Basilica of the Fifty Virgins. All citizens under the Empire are wholeheartedly welcomed, and encouraged to attend the ceremony of the two. Howbeit, the following will be receiving private invitations in hopes of their undoubted attendance:

↳ The immediate family of the bride and groom

George Dubois

HG Duke of Reinmar, Erwin Barclay

And the Honorable members of House Barclay and Dubois

↳ House of Helane

HIM Emperor of Oren, Peter III

And the Honorable members of House Helane

↳ House Barbanov

HM The King of Hanseti-Ruska, Josef Barbanov

And the Honorable members of House Barbanov

↳ House of Wick

HE Lord Regent of Hanseti-Ruska, Konstantin Wick

And the Honorable members of House Wick

↳  House of Novellen

HIH The Duke of Helena, Joseph Novellen

HIH Princess Imperial, Anne Novellen

And the Honorable members of House Novellen

 ↳ House of Helvets

HG The Duke of Cathalon, Robert Helvets

And the Honorable members of House Helvets

↳ House of Baruch

HG Duke of Valwyck, Petyr Baruch

And the Honorable members of House Baruch

↳ House of Kortevich

HL Margrave of Korstadt, Viktor Kortevich

And the Honorable members of House Kortevich

↳ House Vanir

HL Margrave of Vasilank, Fiske III Kortevich

And the Honorable members of House Vanir

↳ House of Ruthern

HL Count of Metterden, Aleksandr Ruthern

And the Honorable members of House Ruthern

↳ House of Ludovar

HL Count of Otistadt, Fredrick Ludovar

And the Honorable members of House Ludovar

↳ House of Carrington

HL Baroness of Carrington, Mary Lucille d’Arkent

And the Honorable members of House Carrington

↳ House of Amador

HL Baron of Monstadt, Ruslan Amador

And the Honorable members of House Amador

↳  House of Halcourt

HL Baron of Artois, Winifred Halcourt

And the Honorable members of House Halcourt

↳ House of Mackensen

Ionian Mackensen

And the Honorable members of House Mackensen

↳ House of Erhdhart

Ser Marcus Erhdhart

And the Honorable members of House Erhdhart

↳ Others:

Vaeri

Ivelle Grey

Any and all members of the Haense Royal Army

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After the ceremony, a small celebration is to take place at the humble abode of Reinmar. May you join us during these few hours of simple festivity- as we will be indulging in Hanseti celebrations, games, and drinks. Again, all those under our esteemed Orenian Empire are more than welcomed to join us to revel in this memory of matrimony.

Viktor Sigismund squints at his formal invite upon hearing his sister's instruction to attend and support the wedding. "Ew... marriage-- kissing!!" The young boy would gag at the idea of watching the couple give a small peck during such a ceremony, but would marvel over the idea of the cannonist meaning behind such a ceremony. 

Adonis Halcourt de Silversteed sighs upon hearing such news of a marriage from Edith, rocking slowly in his wooden rocker- a lit cigar in hand. "My dearest cousin is to marry..About time!" He'd chuckle quietly at his own joke before taking a drag of his cigar. 

3 minutes ago, Branchio said:

Edith Irene Halcourt releases a few giggles, looking to her Uncle Adonis as they sat within the cobble walls of snowy Artois “Will you teach me to dance?”

Adonis Halcourt de Silversteed glances up from the book he had been previously reading- taking a long drag of his cigar and releasing the smoke in a small chuckle. "Been awhile since ai have danced, cherie. Non promises ai won't be rusty,," He'd grin to his niece, taking a mental note to find ruby themed outfits for himself and his sons.

Nenica Dubois beams at the new publishing of the paper- specifically the world section, though she wouldn't admit it~

"Turned out as good as the last" she'd quip to no one in particular, moving back to her papers for the next copy. 

MC Name: Cece___

Character's Name: Scrap

Character's Age: 24

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         Goblin

Transformed form:

         n/a

Creator's MC Name:

         n/a

Creator's RP Name:

         n/a

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Goblins are one of the few sub-races of Orcs that is easily noted due to their smaller size and generally higher intelligence over their brethren sub-races. They often seek to try and talk their way into or out of a situation, though not completely against fighting- aswell as tinkering with precious objects and being notable inventors. Goblins typically stand about 4-6 feet with a lean and lanky frame- rumored that the sub-race began due to mating between elves and orcs. Their skin ranges from the typical green, to reds, to grey, and even blues- their eyes ranging from browns, greens, reds, etc. They often clothe themselves in ragged cloths, leaning more toward the typical comfort and simplicity- though it isn’t uncommon to see themselves dressed with fancier things like jewelry or other goods of the like. Goblins, like their sub-races, speak the crude language of blah- and they often tend to live with other goblins, bonding quickly and camping together in caves, sewers, caverns, etc. 

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         n/a

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No

Odette Silversteed squints at her copy and the label of 'Halcourt Publishing Co'. She'd sip her morning tea, before asking aloud to no one but herself: "huh..Halcourt Publishing Company? Funny how he had never brought this up.." she scoffs, tossing the paper lazily unto her table.

THE UNION OF STEFAN LUDOVYK AND ODETTE SILVERSTEED

          an artist's depiction of the wedding

We would like to welcome all citizens under our esteemed empire to a union between Stefan Otto Ludovyk and Odette Adeline Silversteed in the Holy Basilica of the Fifty Virgins, just west of Reza. The wedding is to take place on Grand Harvest (May 2nd, 3 EST) and end with an afterparty at the Haense Tavern to celebrate.

The following would receive personal invitations to attend: 

• The Immediate Family of the bride, House of Silversteed

• Immediate Family of the groom, House Ludovyk

• His Majesty, Sigismund II, and his family

• House of Ludovar

• House of Halcourt

• House of Deveruex

Leon would return to his small abode after hearing the news of his father's death, his face flushed from the run here. He would heave a few heavy breaths, trying to maintain a composed composure even in the privacy of his own room. 

He would recall the letter, apoun which he had been thankfully allowed to read before it was passed to the next member of his family- all to share the devastating news. Tears would prick the boy's eyes as he recalled the scrawled words, quickly brushing them away on the sleeve of his jacket. 

Out of the corner of his eye he would spot some parchment and his usual quill, biting his lip in thought. A letter shouldn't be left unresponsive. And so the man would sit at his desk- beginning to scribble out ink onto the praline white page, filling it with neat and practiced handwriting.

A glance at his clock, it would read 12:00. He had been writing for about an hour, he wanted every word to perfect. He would give a satisfactory sigh, his face puffy from tears he would never admit to shedding. His drink, a small glass of Hightower wine which had been his father's assuming favorite, sat on the desk. Leon would reach out, picking up the cup in a gentle grasp- holding it up.

"A toast! To my father's legacy and his ever lasting impact on our small world" and to that, he would drink.