Jump to content

Gutz

Gold VIP
  • Posts

    70
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Gutz

  1. A ker with striking emerald eyes gazed out from his perch in an undisclosed outlook. The ocean, a perennial fascination, captured his attention once more. It always seemed to come back to the ocean, but this time Clan Val’taelu would depart by ship of their own volition. And Mirasul couldn't help but grin at the thought. "Onto greater endeavors," he whispered before resuming his packing.
  2. A flame- an eternal one. That was the motif of House Amador, as the Phoenix was a creature wrought up from cyclical regeneration. However, when Olessya's eldest daughters were born, instead of pride and maternity, she felt a pang of shame. Weren't they the continuation of House Amador? Weren't they the female first-borns she had longed for to defy her Sedanian mother? Were they not a timestamp on her tenure as matriarch of a fading house? She knew she couldn't offer her dotres a normal life. The burden of carrying the flame would inevitably fall on her eldest, Nataliya, and Olessya had made sure the girl understood the weight of that responsibility. But what of Liridona? Little, dear Liridona - as Olessya denoted her in her thoughts. A flameless being, a tool to perpetuate the regenerative cycle of their House. She would do what every other noble Haense-woman had done: forge alliances through marriage and joyfully bear children. This was her burden, to blend into the ash and soot amongst the flame. Yet here Olessya now sat, enveloped in a pearlescent glow, gently swaying in her oak rocking chair. The brown-haired girl, the Gem of Amador, appeared, and Olessya's lips tightened as she struggled to voice her regrets and apologies. She had suppressed the spark within this child, and when she wasn't looking, it ignited. No amount of apology, though she had tried, could mend this rift. The shame from their first encounter-- where Olessya first looked at her babes-- resurfaced, weighing heavily upon her once more.
  3. "...abide by God's law as interpreted and written by the church for many hundreds of years," an elderly man echoed in his solitary retirement abode. He had never married himself, as the Canon law's direct—and still apparent—prohibition had made it so. "It's a pity for those who attempt to speak for GODDAN and impose their own morality on scripture simply because they hold power to." He tossed aside the provided copy, adding aloud then before sipping his brew, "GODDAN instills in eam a love and compassion for mea fellow man. Ea see no sin in that, ag will keep my religion a personal matter between mea'self ag GODDAN—as is the nature of religion in itself. Ea do wish the same could be said by those of the Church' ag its clergymen who speak so loudly with pens in hand"
  4. In a remote, secluded location- far removed from Haense society- Murtagh Amador resides in his retirement abode. Here, he watches over his distant flock of sheep, tending to the plants he kept surrounding his dwelling with weathered, wrinkled hands. His gaze narrows as it falls upon a particularly new wee lamb, a sense of premonition stirring within him. He would later pray that night for the well-being of his kin!
  5. A Mali'ker with eyes of a peculiar green sat engrossed in his work on the docks, deftly manipulating fabric and string with a slender pinner of cactus dangling from his lips. At intervals, he would pause to secure loose strands of hair, nip at the string he wove, or otherwise draw a large mass of smoke from the joint. But at a certain point, his gaze fixated on the ocean ahead, filling with bitter thoughts of his clan's discardment. Upon their arrival to Aevos, he had ventured into the new land with utter disdain-- but now reunited with his kin once again, he saw the importance of security. Mirasul Val’Taelu vowed to secure their triumph-- whatever that may be-- within his lifetime, a certainty burning within him.
  6. Gutz

    ARRIVAL

    A generous gathering of mina was swiftly ensconced within a sack, accompanied by an assortment of curiosities-- ones that only an elf of elcetic-nature would hoard with purpose. Mirasul had assured Aithlin of his arrival in Nor-Velyth by the next sun-rise. Yet, he found himself delayed by several days, much to the consternation of the enigmatic 'ker. Nevertheless, he now hoisted his weathered bundle of trinkets over his shoulder, extinguishing the fire he had been seated beside, and set forth towards the Moonlit lands-- the new home of his kin.
  7. "ah shite" Murtagh Amador would squint at the page, taking a very long time to process the words written. He'd squint at his bank account, wondering how much his aedymamej was worth in coin.
  8. Murtagh Amador delicately placed his hairbrush aside, opting instead for the weight of his glasses in his palm. He'd tenderly wipe the smoke that clung to the air before him, placing his spectacles upon his nose-- his attention fixated upon the portrait of his niece. Thus spawn a duality of emotions upon his features: sorrow and pride. "Ah- tha' gown.." he'd then marvel, his eyes adhering to the dressings donned, depicted in meticulous strokes. He'd study a minute more before leaning back, casting a thoughtful glance towards his closet-- where a multitude of patterns, needles, and fabric lay neatly stacked. "Fitsk dlum ze Birodal..." he'd intone, a incantation heavy with scorn and patriotism. For a girl so young, the martyr bore upon her shoulders the weighty duality of Haensei pride and bygone trauma! Nevertheless, the old man would stand and pick up his needle.
  9. A loud "O' MEA GODDAN" could be heard from within the Amador keep, perhaps from a proud Murtagh Amador.
  10. Murtagh Amador, slumped at his desk after a long bender, looks over the missive through his hungover stupor. "Goddan, yam OLD ag this kiddo's damn grown!" He'd exclaim after a long moment of trial and error to read through the passage.
  11. In a realm not tethered to Aevos, The Conflagerate pressed a youthful palm to her breast. She breathed immortal life into her heart, a youthful fire once again untamed, burning steadfast. She raised her palm aloft then, a match ablaze in her grasp, its glow a testament to the trials of her youth - some victorious, some fleeting. Gazing upon the unwavering flame, she whispered, "During mea time, Ea kindled embers of triumph ag let others wither into the night." Her eyes remained fixed on the eternal light, "from the embers of mea being, from the ashes of our forebears, may our House endure." The woman released the match then, its descent a sibilant serenade to the Seven skies- dissolving into the gentle winds that caressed the ears of present Amadors. "From ashes, we rise," she intoned. And with those words, Olessya Amador turned away, crossing the threshold into the next planes untouched by suffering, where modest elation flowed alongside exuberant serenity.
  12. -A BURDEN BESTOWED TO THE GREATEST OF AMADORS- ♪ ♫♬ ♪ ♫ That might save my skin, but it won't save my soul ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ ━━━ From Ashes, We Rise ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ Golden light filtered through glassy windows and held undisturbed by not one breath. A young girl stood before the imposing throne of Karl III. The girl, naught yet nine years old, stared forward at the grandeur before her- eyes wide with determination and a touch of vulnerability. She’d clear her fluttering heart with a small hum, addressing aloud then: “Vyr Majesty," she began, her voice steady despite her racing heart, "Ea stand before vy niet as a petitioner, but as a daughter of a once-proud house. Ea wished to apologise on behalf of mea Father- Filip Amador- for mea House’s inactivities and troubles" She’d add then, glancing up evermore at the king before her- a flame catching spark within her chest despite the rising anxieties. “If niet in mea Father’s lifetime, then in mea own Ea will correct our familial mistakes.” The court was hushed, every eye fixed on the resolute girl who stood unwaveringly before the King. King Karl III leaned forward, his eyes locked with the girl’s– as if he sought the essence of her determination. "I thank you child," he said at last. “Though I do not blame your father either. He took up a monumental task that was not his to blame in any regard-” The King would offer kindly then- “but rather he was fighting a very difficult tide. He tried his best, and that is all that could be asked.” And so days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The girl threw herself into her studies, engaging in a wardship under the King’s Palatine to teach her the arts of leadership and governance. She frequented the libraries, delving into historical accounts of great leaders and their conquests. She began attending court sessions, observing the King's decisions and the dynamics of power. But fate has a penchant for its own twists. Her father had lost the fire long ago, leaving nothing but ash in his heart. And the evening after her declaration, her father– her rock of guidance– vanished without a trace. Search parties held by the House scoured, but he seemed to have been swallowed by the shadows. The girl ablaze was thrust into a role she had not anticipated so soon. Alone and burdened with responsibility, she now faced the colossal task of restoring her family's honor and status. ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ Seasons passed and the girl unceasingly grew into her position as Matriarch of the Commoner House of Amador. Within her position, she answered a call from her Mother in Sedan- a call for aid to the growing Principality. With her ablaze heart, she gathered her siblings, Airomar and Ilaria- both eager for adventure-, and embarked on a journey to answer that beckoning call. Sedan welcomed them with cobbled streets that whispered tales of the past and sprawling castles that seemed to touch the heavens. The woman’s mother, a figure of bittersweet memories and tradition, embraced her children with hesitation- as they were firmly Haeseni. They were home, in a sense, surrounded by echoes of their maternal roots. The siblings found themselves captivated by Sedan's familial allure, and soon they were drawn into the world of governance, each taking up positions that suited their unique skills. The girl’s unwavering determination in particular led her to the Princess’ court, where she stood firmly by the Royal’s side to aid in event planning and counseling. She furthermore worked to rekindle with family lost by distance and time, as if the threads of their lineage were being carefully woven back together. But fate has a penchant for its own twists. Just as the family found their rhythm, a sudden darkness descended upon Sedan. The King, a figure of stability, passed away, leaving the kingdom in turmoil. His wife, the Queen, disappeared, and with her, the stability that had anchored Sedan's future. The woman’s fire wavered, its flames flickering as the future she had envisioned for herself and her family dimmed. The once-golden threads of possibility seemed to unravel. In the wake of uncertainty, she made a choice that reflected her inner strength: to retreat to a quaint countryside home. Nestled among rolling hills and blossoming meadows, the woman found solace in the embrace of nature. There, she married and gave birth to two daughters, watching their laughter dance amidst wildflowers. Time, like a wise sage, unveiled its truths. Her husband's passing marked a turning point. The eldest daughter, with a visage too akin to the woman’s, carried an unlit torch in her heart. If Amador were to succeed and fulfil her Kingly promise made all those years ago- they could not be fulfilled here and not with this flame-less heir. And so she packed their lives into cherished memories and embarked on a journey back to their ancestral land. ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ The young heir, Nataliya, stood before her mother, the current Matriarch. Her eyes were wide as saucers, reflecting the mix of anxiety and trepidation swirling within her. The room, adorned with rich silks and lined bookshelves, seemed to hush in reverence as the weight of tradition and destiny pressed upon Mother and Dotre. Listen well, Nataliya," the mother's voice carried the resonance of generations past, firm and aggravated. She blocked the door- yet regally, her posture straight and demeanour poised, though shadows of fatigue danced within her eyes. "Ea will only say it once, ag if vy do niet like it- vy ought to leave this house ag never come back.” The mother would pause, watching the child’s fear fester and grow- yet holding her still to listen keenly. “As the heir to our matriarchy, vy cannot frolic as the other children do. Laughter and play are privileges the heavens have stolen from vy, a weight now rests upon vyr shoulders. Ag if vy can niet comprehend that, Liridona will take vyr place easily." Gravity was noticed within the mother's words, like chains being fastened around Nataliya’s innocence. She looked at the tapestries that lined the walls, each depicting ancestral leaders of bygone eras- all with stern gazes and solemn expressions. The weight of their legacy was etched in every paint smear. The room's grandeur seemed to mock the dotre’s youthful desires, as the firelight flickered like the enigmatic dance of fate. Naught a word other than “Da, Mamej- ea understand, ea will stay.” was uttered- and with that the young girl was dismissed. Once alone, the mother's facade crumbled like ancient parchment. She slumped onto the bed, shoulders trembling, as the mask of strength slipped away. The feverish glow on her face revealed the truth hidden behind her resolute demeanor. Polio, a cruel visitor, had stolen her vitality, rendering her legs frail and weakening her resolve. The room's grand tapestries now seemed like specters of a life she was never allowed to lead, a life that was overshadowed by her own lineage's loss. The legacy she was meant to carry had become an anchor, chaining her to a destiny she hadn't chosen. But fate has a penchant for its own twists. The fire that had burned in her heart, the flame she had nurtured to guide her house to glory, now flickered like a dying ember. ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ Nataliya… she's gone, mamej" the weeping Liridona’s voice cracked, her words heavy with sorrow. Yet, the girl’s mother looked on with a stern disposition, answering in turn with a distant sympathy, mistaking her for a stranger. Her brow furrowed, her voice filled with concern. "Yam sorry, but vy must have eam mistaken, for Yam niet vyr mamej- yet vy have mea condolences for this– Nataliya, vy speak of.” She’d clear her throat then, looking onwards to the lady before her- who had begun to cry. “Ea come to ask if vy have seen mea Father- Filip Amador. Ea have very important news to tell him. Ea must find him.” Tears filled the dotre’s eyes as she reached out, trying to bridge the gap that separated their understanding. "Mother, it's me, vyr dotre. Please! Filip is dead, do vy niet understand?" The mistaken woman shook her head, confusion deepening as she offered words of comfort. "Oh, my dear, Yam so sorry for your pain- again. But you must understand, Filip Amador is very much alive. Do niet spread such lies- vy torment eam so!” the aged woman would begin to weep alongside her dotre, the sundowning she was enduring drawing a deep divide that could not be crossed. The daughter's heart ached, her grief deepening as she tried ceaselessly to bridge that divide. The elder turned to flee, to escape the unbearable confusion that enveloped her. But her steps led her not to escape, but to collision. She collided with a figure, a young boy with eyes that seemed to hold a spark of recognition. The boy, Henrik, said naught a word- looking between his Adeymamej and Hauchmamej with uncertainty. However, the aged woman’s gaze remained firmly fixed upon the boy- searching for something she seemed to recognize within him. A fire in his eyes, yes! She could not place why such was so noticeable, but unbeknownst to her this was the very babe she held in the church that day. The very heir she adamantly told her dotre she could not be present for and could not give any ounce of love to– as she had done to her dotre. She had apologized that day in the church, and the fire within continued to flicker out since then. The woman stood as merely a glass chamber to hold the candle flame that held her steady. ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ ━━━ “ Ea forgive vy, ag Ea will tell mea Children of vyr Greatness. Don’t vy worry mamej.” -Nataliya Amador- ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ Eyes aged to the colour of moonlight eyes snapped awake. A shiver ran through Olessya’s frail frame, her heart racing with an inexplicable fear that seemed to seep from her dreams into reality. With trembling hands, she reached out for the bedpost, pulling herself up despite the protest of her Polio-ridden legs. The effort was immense, her determination unwavering even as her body faltered. She clung to the post, her knuckles white, as she steadied herself. Her ashen head gazed upwards from the floor to her front, catching the steady gaze of unfamiliar eyes. Her reflection in the mirror across the room held a stranger's gaze. Confusion clouded Olessya’s own eyes as if the mirror held a portal to a world she couldn't comprehend. Her hands flew to her face, touching her skin as if to confirm her own existence. The woman in the mirror was but an echo, a wisp of memory lost in the fog of dementia. The scream that pierced the air drew Airomar like a moth to a dying flame. Panic etched lines on his aged face as he rushed into her room, his eyes locking onto the figure that once bore his sister's soul. "Olessya" he cried, voice laced with a mixture of concern and sorrow. But she didn't see him as he truly was. Her gaze met his, yet recognition remained elusive. Her feet carried her forward, past him, as if his presence was but a mirage. The painting of their father, a cherished heirloom, crashed to the ground as she stumbled, leaving behind a trail of fallen memories. Olessya’s crazed dash took her through the doorway, out into the city's maze of cobbled streets. The unfamiliar faces, the bustling market stalls, a looming church– none of it resonated with her. Her surroundings felt alien, a tapestry woven with threads of strangers. She sprinted onward, heedless of the curious glances cast her way. Her breath grew ragged, her heart pounding not only from the exertion but also from the growing terror that twisted her senses. The world she knew had slipped away, leaving her adrift in an abyss of confusion. The bridge emerged like a lifeline before her, a path leading somewhere unknown. She approached its edge, the river's surface mirroring her own turbulent thoughts. Desperation etched lines upon her face, and with a voice that trembled with equal parts anguish and plea, she cried out to the skies and the heavens that she no longer recognized. "Seven skies. GODDAN! Save me now—PLEASE!" Her frail form seemed suspended for a moment, as if time itself held its breath. Then, with a final, desperate gasp, she tumbled over the ledge and into the cold embrace of the water below. Ripples spread across the river's surface, a silent requiem for a life that had been lost to the currents of memory and time. Haense continued its morning routine, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded at the bridge. And Olessya’s body floated for a moment, a fragile vessel cast adrift in the river's embrace. Her face, now peaceful, gazed upward, the burdens of her earthly existence finally relinquished- eschewed of mortal existance. The freezing waters taking her under, the flickers of fire left in her heart extinguishing under the current. ━━━─━────༺༻────━─━━━ From Ashes, We Rise ━━━
  13. A certain Amador sits within his chambers, reflecting upon the Palatine's publishment. He'd stroke his mustache as he recalled House Amador proposing a bill within the chambers of the People's duma-- one that proposed recombining the two Dumas. Much like the recent request for debate from the Lady Palatine! The bill was notably shot down and ridiculed by the minimal attendees, however. A simple "Huh..." was all he would utter!
  14. FOR THE HEARTH OF THE HOMELAND. Issued by the Office of the Wardrobe On this 1st day of Vzmey ag Hynk of 492 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK, AMIDST THE BURGEONING presence of the exuberant youth traversing the city’s streets, the elder citizens find themselves entrusted with the task of nurturing and guiding the upcoming generation through benevolent education and immersive assimilation into the Haeseni societal existence. With a cognizant awareness of this imperative, the court is pleased to herald an occasion tailored for our progeny. As the approaching months draw near, a fashion exposition shall be held to foster such important erudition and communal engagement for the youth. “Comet in the Sky” by Jakob Macdonough (122 ES) A LAY OF THE EVENT IN THE ELOQUENT closure of his seminal treatise, “Haeseni Mythologie” (Or, the Hanso-Raev Pantheon and Folklore of the Hinterlands), Otto the Tarcharman aptly penned: “For Dules, the union of Hanseti and Raev before its time, was the embodiment of what the contemporary Haeseni man is, for every child of Haense’s bosom is the heir of Dules’ fortune. And in having this lofty inheritance, they must know their history and knowledge of the past, so it may be carried on in proper tradition.” IT IS WITHIN this resonant proclamation that the forward of this event’s announcement rings ever true. The subject of Haeseni Mythologie is painted within Haense’s history, a treasure deserving of bestowal upon successive generations. Thus, the overarching theme of the forthcoming fashion exposition will be Haeseni Mythologie, a tapestry of lore entrusted to the embrace of the young heirs of our time. YOUNG ONES ARE cordially invited to grace the stage with attire made by their own hands, or through the artistry of another guided by the child’s own creative vision. With formal poise, each young soul shall traverse the aisle bedecked in their chosen couture, to be unveiled before the discerning gaze of a trinity of judges: The Grand Lord (His Excellency, Fabian d’Arkent-Kortrevich), The Lady Chamberlain (Lady Liridona Ingrid Amador), and The Master of the Wardrobe (Lord Murtagh Amador). In a revelatory interlude, the young contenders shall unfurl the meaning of their ensemble’s significance to Haeseni Mythologie, before gracefully retreating to the wings. THE LAURELS OF victory in this splendid pageant of sartorial opulence shall be bestowed in the sequence of first, second, and third. The third triumphant child shall be adorned not only with the adulation of achievement but also the prospect of a rewarding stipend, amounting to 50 mina. Meanwhile, the second luminary will revel in the dual delight of 50 mina and a commissioned piece of couture from the Master of the Wardrobe: Murtagh Amador. The zenith of this procession shall be occupied by the distinguished first-place victor, who shall also be promised a commissioned piece from the same Amador. Their splendor will additionally be amplified by their granted title of “The Star of Garmund,” -- a useful piece to flaunt at social events in the coming future. “As the Dulonians once said, ‘Bar Maan ovare syr.’ or ‘Only Death is Fair.” DLUM VE EDLERVIK AG VE BIRODAL, Her Royal Majesty, Amaya of Venzia, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess-Consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-Consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-Consort of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Countess-Consort of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, etcetera His Excellency, Fabian Otto d’Arkent-Kortrevich, Grand Lord of Hanseti-Ruska Lady Liridona Ingrid Amador, Regent of House Amador, Lady Chamberlain of Hanseti-Ruska Lord Murtagh Matyas Amador, Master of the Wardrobe, Protector of the Phoenix.
  15. THE UTILIZATION OF BEAVER FUR FOR THE HEARTH OF THE HOMELAND. Issued by the Office of the Wardrobe On this 11th day of Msitza ag Dargund of 491 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK, In the annals of the Kingdom of Haense, a recent and peculiar phenomenon has begun. None other than an audacious beaver invasion has bestowed its presence upon the serene streets of Valdev, casting ripples of consternation amongst the populace. Recently orchestrated by the Palace Custodian, Marian Blackwood, a clarion call has been issued- a hunt imbued with the somber duty of preserving the equilibrium between man and nature. Within this unfolding spectacle, the office of the Wardrobe emerges to educate the Haeseni populace on the uses of this pests’ fur. Concurrently, as ink meets parchment, the Office bequeaths unto the realm a treasury of patterns, a veritable compendium of inspiration wherein the fur takes on myriad forms, transcending its humble origins to attain the apotheosis of haute couture. From Wildscape to Wardrobe As outlined in the recent publication of Krotyav i ve Edlervik: Couture of the Haeseni People Vol III. the remarkable hydrophobic nature of the beaver’s fur stands as a testament to its unique design in comparison to other pelts. Hailing from freshwater enclaves, the beaver harmoniously coexists with its aquatic surroundings– a desirable trait in such a terrain where snow and sleet are commonly falling atop the heads and shoulders of citizens. However, the practicality of this fur is made all the more practical with their foolish migration into the city. Beaver’s once sparse show as an addition to attire was a result of their limited climate. The beaver- until now- have kept to their warmer climates and waters, avoiding the chillier, more icy waters of the city. Foolish. Hence, it is to be expected that Beavers may become a commonplace occurrence- blessing goods and services alike. Beaver Pelt Hats As priorly indicated in this publishment and the Krotyav i ve Edlervik, the Beaver Felt Hat stands as an ubiquitous cornerstone of the pelt’s use. What is a more quintessential item than a finely-crafted hat? This headwear distinctly channels the resolute vengeance that the Haeseni populace harbors towards these invasive creatures, as it comprises the entirety of the beaver. Step 1: PREPARING THE BEAVER PELT Ensure that your pelt is clean and properly tanned. Remove any residual debris and trim the fur if necessary or desired. Step 3: SHAPING THE FELT HOOD Place the felt hood over the hat block or mold to shape the hat to fit one’s head. Use steam to soften the pelt, making it pliable for shaping. Secure the felt in place using pins or clips until it cools and retains the desired form. Step 4: ASSEMBLING THE HAT Cut a shape into the felt along the brim’s edge to achieve the desired hat size and stuff. Use a needle and thread to sew the edges of the hat together from where it was cut, forming the hat’s seam. Step 5: ADDING FINISHING TOUCHES Affix faux eyes into the hole of the beaver’s eyes- or simply sew shut. Consider decorating your hat with ribbons, flowers, or other paraphernalia. [An example of what the wearer should conclude with] Beaver Pelt Shawls The Beaver Felt shawl, however, is an additional alluring piece that may captivate the citizens of Haense. Much like its hat counterpart, this shoulder accessory is crafted from the entirety of the beaver, a testament to resourcefulness and blood-thirst. With its luxurious texture and interplay of the light capturing its dead eyes, the shawl holds a magnetic allure that’s certain to ensnare the gazes of onlookers. Step 1: PREPARING THE BEAVER PELT Once again, ensure that your pelt is clean and properly tanned. Remove any residual debris and trim the fur if necessary or desired. Step 2: SIZING THE SHAWL Determine the size and shape of your shoulder piece. Both a rectangular or an asymmetrical design can be opted for, depending on personal preference. The provided pattern utilizes a rectangular design. Use measuring tape to mark the dimensions on the pelt and carefully cut it to match the desired shape. Step 3: ADDING FABRIC BACKING Cut a piece of fabric or felt that matches the shape and size of your pelt. Align the fabric with the beaver pelt and sew them together along the edges using a needle and thread. This step adds structure and stability to the accessory, but a raw form may still be used. Step 5: ADDING FINISHING TOUCHES As stated priorly, affix faux eyes into the hole of the beaver’s eyes- or simply sew shut. Consider decorating your hat with ribbons, flowers, or other paraphernalia. [An example of what the wearer should conclude with] DLUM VE EDLERVIK AG VE BIRODAL, Her Royal Majesty, Amaya of Venzia, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess-Consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-Consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-Consort of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Countess-Consort of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, etcetera. His Excellency, Fabian Otto d’Arkent-Kortrevich, Grand Lord of Hanseti-Ruska. Lord Murtagh Matyas Amador, Master of the Wardrobe, Protector of the Phoenix.
  16. Olessya Amador squints, chewing on nothing in a usual elderly way. "Who?" She'd simply comment. That was all from the former Matriarch of Amador. Murtagh Amador, similarly, would have little to nothing to say. He'd eye the minae in his bank account, switching his mouth from side to side in thought. "Ea will jus'... continue to give mea coin to wee Ricky- he's tha' decided future Baron, ag tha's agreed upon by everyone" the notorious sugar papej of Amador would decide aloud to no one other than himself.
  17. Murtagh Amador chokes on his Carrion Black as he was told the news- hand halting its work on the dress he was currently working on. "Third time's tha' charm- aye?"
  18. A certain Haeseni man dabs at his brow as he checks his calendar for the upcoming deadline. In a moment of respite, he takes a large puff of his generously packed doobie-- replacing it quickly with a threaded needle in his hand as he resumes work on the two Quinceañera outfits he had been recently commissioned...
  19. A COLLECTION OF FREE COUTURE OFFICE OF IMMIGRATION Issued in partnership by the KASTELLAN OF IMMIGRATION ag MASTER OF THE WARDROBE On the 10th day of Vzmey ag Hynk of 484 E.S. A recent resurgence of Haense-specific couture evolved from the previous Grand Lady Viorica Kortrevich’s publications of the Krotyav i ve Edlervik. In addition, there has been a recent surge in immigrants obtaining citizenship within the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. With the recent surge of both, the Office of Immigration has partnered with the Master of the Wardrobe to provide the influx of citizens with culturally-fitting attire. A collection of attire ranging in colours and cultures from Haense has been since procured. They are readily available and free to the public upon contacting Lord Murtagh Amador. From there, the attire will be fitted by him or an assistant and then free to take home. Whether they be refugees or migrants, these outfits are free to be taken up with no charge. MEN’S COUTURE | BRAW BROWN | A Leather tunic with brown boar pelt about the neck, a thick red belt at the waist. It is inspired by general Haeseni couture trends- simple yet effective against the Northern climate! | TARTAN SUPREMACY | Kilts are a staple in Hanso-Ayrikiv fashion, inspiring this layered outfit immensely. Most notable is the blue sillitoe tartan kilt, but the red leather vest and long polar bear pelt also denote general Haeseni couture trends as well. | HYSPIAN LION PONCHO | An earthly array inspired by Hyspian fashion. A poncho is draped over the shoulders, fitted firmly by a belt. The edge of the poncho would be lined in vibrant orange and white- flowing down into stitched engravings into the poncho. | CAVE LAD | A layered outfit inspired by Hanzo-Ayrikiv fashion through the incorporation of tartan. A white wolf fur has been paired beneath the tartan, giving an edge to the green tartan. A red cape has been draped across the shoulders as well- a further addition of color to the otherwise earthly array. WOMEN’S COUTURE | PATTERNED RED | A pale red dress inspired by Hanso-Rhenyari fashion. It’s gold detailing on the bottom of the dress paired with the minute detailing along the top and skirt denote such an influence. It is paired with a matching ruby necklace and a long white veil, a staple of piety in the Koengzem. | WARM OLIVE | An Olive green dress of the standard Haeseni couture. It has gold detailing on the bottom of the dress paired with a long, outsourced Otter-fur coat. It is matched with a simple gold necklace and another long white veil. | DUSTY SCYEBUNAD | A standard Hanso-Scyfling bunad that has been simplified and layered up! Note that this bunad is of the Scyebunad variety, but much more simplified– lacking any embroidery other than the gold and white lining at the bottom of the skirt. | SARAFAN COMMONER | A traditional Sanguss gown of the Hanso-Ruskan fashion trends. Note the elaborate embroidery along the top of the dress– deep red and pale yellow– paired with a matching belt at the waist. The tie is worn at the ladies’ left hand side, denoting the wearer as unmarried. | THE LAND WE LIVE | A frosty blue cotehardie sourced from Hanso-Almannir fashion. Billowing sleeves of equal yet brighter blue appear beneath the coat, noting a wool-y underdress beneath the cotehardie. Fashioned over top is a white polar bear pelt draped around the neck and falling down the length of the outfit. CHILDREN’S COUTURE | SLAVIC TUNIC | A wool tunic inspired by Scyfling couture. It is well threaded to keep the wearer warm– thick in texture and well weaved. Intricately detailed patterns are sewn into the fabric, depicting floral swirls and dots. It is paired with blue cuffs and a matching blue skirt– adding a pop of deep color to the otherwise lightly tinted outfit. | STARRY SANGUSS| A vibrant blue Sangruss embroidered with golden stars. A matching blue, yet simple skirt is worn at the bottom- a second, lighter skirt visible just at the feet. Beneath the top, a matching white shirt is visible, billowing sleeves at the wrists just before a golden fasten. | CHERRY SANGUSS | A white, bowed undershirt paired with a cherry-orange Sanguss, a staple of Hanso-Ruskan fashion. Further paired with the top is a vibrant green skirt- buttons running up alongside the leg. | BIT CHILLY OUT | A blue coat made of some of the thickest wools in the land! Trimmed with bear fur, and accompanied with a sturdy cap - whoever wears this is bound to remain warm from the harsh northern winters! | FLIMSY COAT | A coat lined with fox pelts. It dons an Amador blue, though it can be enjoyed by any who wish to wear it. There are no buttons or clasps, thus, the coat remains open - and somewhat flimsy as the name might suggest. IV JOVEO MAAN Her Royal Majesty, Amaya of Venzia, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess-Consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-Consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-Consort of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Countess-Consort of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, etcetera. Her Royal Majesty, Sofia of Hyspia, Queen-Dowager of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess of Hyspia. Her Ladyship, Nataliya Amador, The Phoenix of Amador, Baroness of Mondstadt, Kastellan of Immigration of Hanseti-Ruska. Lord Murtagh Amador, Master of the Wardrobe of Hanseti-Ruska.
  20. Murtagh Amador sat with his sestra in the Haense square, bouncing his niece upon his knee as he read over the missive aloud. Once he reached the end of the paper, he'd cry aloud: "AYY! Vyr married to that laddieh Kattie!" He'd slap the soon-to-be Colborn Countess consort's shoulder with a grin, startling the poor child on his knee with his loud praises. "Congrats!" @lalosia
  21. Gutz

    Reunited

    "SHE HAS A SESTRA??" A certain man would cry out at the news from his home
  22. Somewhere lost in the labyrinth of her own memories sat an aged mamej, newly re-titled as a hauchmamej. Olessya Amador's attention flickered towards her dotre's announcement. She struggled to focus her attention upon the parchment, her own fragmented thoughts making it difficult to grasp onto the present moment-- yet a glimmer of recognition shone through after a moment of focus. The memories of her own shortcomings as a mother and Baroness resurfaced at the short read, accompanied by the realization that her legacy was now perpetuating through her dotre. "Vy rear him well and he will make a fine Amador" she'd later tell Nataliya in person- praying in private for their family's and House's future prosperity.
  23. Olessya Amador, sat outside in Swan Hamlet's fresh sun, squinting at the envelope denoting her dotre's marriage. She'd roll it into a large blunt, packing Cactus Green between it's pages with a trembling hand. "Amador lives on!" she'd cry cheerfully, sticking the crudely-made blunt between grinning lips. She'd light the blunt with the flint and steel that were lying at her feet- taking a large inhale. Upon exhale, she'd further ramble- "Mea Dotre knows her duties ag completes them well. Proud of such a lass. Ea reared her well!" The woman would gasp then, a frown dawning upon her face-- "goddan, there is going to be grandbabies running about soon like the pests children are..."
  24. Former matriarch Olessya Amador sloshes about the contents of her cup- a hard earned trade during these times of damn near impoverished living! Some would spill upon herself as she tried to drink with a trembling elderly hand. Her borsa, Airomar Amador, would be at her side- reading through the bulky reading with haste, as his elderly sestra would not recall due to her mental state's loosing battle with dementia. "Ea like these fine historians." The bedridden woman would proclaim, "Goddan, do they know our history well! Will vy send them mea regards ag thanks Airomar?" She'd request of the man then, a joyous smile upon her face at such a dobry publishment!
  25. UNFAMILIAR DYES AND FABRICS OF THE UNDERDARK On cave material gathering, curating, and farming UKEN VE KRAWN I ROZZ Issued by the OFFICE OF VE MORRIVI KORT On the 8th day of Jula ag Piov of 479 E.S. With the world’s move into the underground, resources have become scarce. What goods we have once known as easy stops to the market have become struggles to cleverly craft- whether with cave materials or with the more familiar ones from above-ground hamlets. One example of such a lacking resource has been fabric and dyes. However, recent experiments with our underground’s flora have reaped a new way of gaining the necessary materials for seamstressing- allowing for the creation of new clothes with new resources. A simple harvest is all that is required. THE HARVESTING AND IDENTIFICATION OF VINES Vines are seemingly the most populous of flora in our underground abode– littering nearly every pathway and being a general nuisance. There are two types, Crimson Stalks and Azure Vines, easily distinguishable by their color-based names. Crimson Stalks are easiest to harvest, snapping off easily just by hand after cutting off the thorns that adorn them. Trouble may be found by their seeming elasticity, as they bend and curve with the harvester’s grip– snapping rather violently when they eventually give. Azure Vines, on the other hand, are harder to harvest. If not for their notable thickness added to the elasticity that requires a knife to saw with, then the goo that layers them makes it all the more difficult. Once a grip with the knife is purchased, beware that the goo does not fly back into your face- as it is relatively hard to wash off. Gloves are encouraged as well if able to be found or crafted. [Attached to the pamphlet are two depictions of the more popular spots to harvest either vine] — CURATING CRIMSON STALKS INTO FABRIC Crimson Stalks produce a fabric with a minuscule knitted pattern. It is thick in texture due to the number of veins needed from the vine for the process, although contrasted with its coarse, smooth feel in contrast to usual wools or cotton. It is capable of providing a good amount of warmth, but only in moderate temperatures– perhaps like those of the cave. Its usefulness, however, shines most with the concept of humidity. Where humid temperatures within the cave and above are typically a threat to comfort, this fabric would be ideal to sport, as it provides coverage without fully trapping heat against the body. – STEPS: Select vines that stretch straight from dark red to brighter red. Avoid any with too many branching vines that cannot be separated on their own. Cut the leaves off from the root side to the top, segment them into smaller pieces, and then make wreaths using about 5-8 vine segments. This allows for an easier soaking process. Soak the vine wreath in a bowl of water for 2-3 hours depending on the thickness of the vines. They should emerge flimsy and more malleable without bounce. This fattens the veins of the vine. Place weights upon the pile to flatten- correcting any folds or creases within the vine that it has gained from the soaking process. Sit until corrected, but ensure the vines do not dry- as the desired veins within will shrink. Remove the outside skin of the vine and expose the meaty inside. Veins within the meat of the vine should now be exposed and fattened by the prior soak. Extract these veins and set aside the discarded skin and meat. Tie the edges of the veins into knots, gathering three or so in one knot. Weave each bundle of veins as though it were a pie crust- lacing each strand tightly but still loose enough to untie with ease. Continue to ensure the veins remain wet during this process! Once a large piece of weaved veins has been achieved, place over top a fire– distant enough to catch the heat and smoke rather than the fire. Given time, the veins will shrink again- locking the fabric into place. With this, it should be noted to make your swath of fabric larger than wanted in order to accommodate the shrinkage. A final wash, and any other washes should be light, should be done with care and limited water. This will prevent the piece falling apart again– but should your weaving skills and knots be tight, the piece will not be destroyed entirely. This final wash is recommended not required, as it serves only to remove the smell of smoke from the fabric. CURATING AZURE VINES INTO FABRIC Azure Vines produce a fabric with a straightened pattern. It is relatively thin due to its method of curation, yet provides coverage akin to it’s brother– the Crimson Stalks. It is suited for warmer, more humid temperatures rather than cool; however, it is able to be thickened up during curation of the fabric. This makes it easily adaptable to cooler temperatures and the necessity of providing warmth in such a climate. – STEPS: Select vines that stretch straight and long. Avoid any with too many branching vines that may disturb the desired inner strands. Maintain them as long as possible in equal lengths. Scrape off a good amount of goop from the vine with a gloved hand. One bowl for each yard of fabric is ideal. Run the vine segments under running water briefly to remove unneeded, excess goo– perhaps the nearby waterfall in the underground would be best for this process. Gloves are also recommended here, lest you find yourself washing your hands for an hour next. Remove the vines from the water and allow them to dry- cracking open the shell carefully once dried. This is best done with a knife, running it along the side of the husk deep enough to only cut the shell. Try to avoid cutting the inner fibers. Remove the inner fibers of the vine, laying them onto a flat and clean surface as long as desired. Ensure they are evenly spread out before laying the pre-harvested goo onto them. Coat them well and do not worry about using them too much! Taking a flat object, such as a wooden board or a bamboo scroll, flatten the fibers and goo with even, hard pressure. Once effectively pressed, remove the board. Carefully pick up the surface your pressed fibers lie on and set out in an area with excessive sunlight and ample air. This will dry the goo, acting as a cement and finalizing the fabric. If the fabric was wanting to be curated thicker, simply layer pressed pieces upon each other before laying it out. — DYE PRODUCTION Crimson Stalk Dye: To produce dyes from Crimson Stalks is a simple affair, one only needs to cut off the red mushroom buds that grow from the stalks while avoiding the thorns. These buds are then to be ground up and put to boil. While boiling, one must add half a bottle of vinegar, to allow for a chemical reaction to release the dying agent from the plant. Keep boiling until all the water is gone and a crimson red powder remains. This dye can be rubbed into a fabric to produce a vibrant red-orange color- nearly watercolor like due to its method of application. Azure Vine Dye: During the process of extracting the internal silky strands of the Azure Vines, one is left with the blue husk of the vine. This husk can be soaked in water, distilled water is recommended for a cleaner color. The length at which the dye is kept in the water will determine its hue. While the inner fibers produce a fabric already blue in color, dyes from this vine’s husk provide a wider array of color. For instance, two hours may result in a rich blue dye, but four will result in a near black dye with heavy blue undertones. [Two examples of outfits made from Vines] — FARMING VINES With the continued harvesting of wild vines by various gatherers, the total amount available in the wilderness is starting to diminish. Thus, the Master of Agriculture has developed techniques in order to cultivate the vines for various purposes such as the dye and food industries Cultivating Crimson Stalks: Crimson Stalks grow from a single but at the top. The bud must be planted into a bed of organic material, be it compost, coil or mushroom cap. Harder materials such as wood, while organic, would be too hard for the vines and roots of the Stalks to penetrate through. If wood is the only option, it is advised to let it rot in water for a week to soften it up. Ample space below the growing bed must be present, so that the vines may grow downward freely. However, they may be planted in close proximity to each other, only space downward must be free. Keep in mind that while Crimson Stalks can be planted close to each other, this will result in the vines overlapping and curling over themselves. This results in them being easier to harvest in bulk, but harder to process. Cultivating Azure Vines: The process of seeding and growing azure vines is much more complicated than that of Crimson Stalks. The bud of the Vine must be planted into a hole, about a forearm deep into the soil. Then one must take a hoe and plough a spiral trench starting from it. This is because the roots of an Azure Vine are highly twisted, and grow in spirals. This way of preparing the land allows for easier travel of the roots and more stability of the plant, allowing it to grow taller. Despite the complicated manner of tilling the soil, Azure Vines do not have as much quality organic matter to grow, as compared to the Crimson Stalks. But they do require more space from each other. FINAL THOUGHTS The world’s retreat into the underground has paved the way for the discovery of new materials– flora and fauna. Within this scope, humanity may come to find new means of cultivating necessary goods, especially during this period of basic survival. Dyes and fabrics happen to be among these new discoveries, rewarding us with new colors and textures– a minor success amidst the struggle of today. IV JOVEO MAAN Her Royal Majesty, Sofia Camila of Hyspia, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess of Hyspia, Princess-Consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-Consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-Consort of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Countess-Consort of Alban, Siegrad, Werdenburg, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Buck, Thurant and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector and Lady of the Highlanders, etcetera. Lord Sterling Percy Amador, Knight of the Marian Retinue, Vice Emissar, Court Astrologer, Master of Agriculture, Lord of Swan’s Keep, The Swan. Lord Murtagh Matyas Amador, Master of the Wardrobe of Hanseti-Ruska.
×
×
  • Create New...