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About Harald

  • Birthday 02/19/2000

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    Johan Stor | Xander | Urneilor
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  1. A grin would form upon the visage of a nephilim, his scaled hands moving to grip the eye of Ezren of Tuvia looking over it within his grasp as he went to stand "May father enjoy both this offering as well as the Crown of their Queen"
  2. The young Prince had entered the Basilica not long after the fire had been put out, confused and wondering what was going on the young Heir had demanded a response as the people gathered conversed. One mumbling a sentence that foroze the young Prince for a moment as Xander looked towards her with a stoney gaze "What did you just say about my papa? Where is he?" the Prince asked looking then towards the two grown people who walked towards him, one aiming to take the Prince away for his own well being, yet as the man moved closer his voice rose staring the man down. "Don't you dare touch me!" his gaze locked towards Gwenyth then, his god mother, a knight of the royal guard. Then as he once more asked "Where is my papa" he finally learned of his fathers fate, promises were made to the prince of revenge and punishment for the crime that had been committed. Yet he would have to think to himself of how they as common men could possibly defeat such a enemy when his father could not. Something changed within the Prince that day, the child who had usually ran around with a grin smiled no more, a child who wished adventure kept to his quarters or the library of the palace. A cloak missing from his fathers wardrobe now often seen wrapped around the young Prince as he looked over the ocean views from his private quarters, thinking.. day dreaming.. reading.. praying for the hope of once again being held by his father.
  3. The young Prince of Monterosa had passed his beloved Aunt a few saint hours earlier. As he sat within the gardens the news would be delivered to him.. the Xander soon there after dropping his lemon cake to the ground as tears would would start flooding his eyes.
  4. Stood behind his wife as she wrote her missive, the Count taking a few heavy breaths as their ancestral trident rested upon his back. His mind was set, his oath sworn. Many had died in the last decade, many he loved many he knew. Yet no pain had been as severe as the death of their daughter. After the missive had been written, and after their children had been put to sleep. A lot of his time would be spent within the rooms of Majorie looking around. Feeding the fish in her tank, making sure her room was clean and left just how she had left it that morning. Yet soon a delivery of marble found its way to the Vuiller Estate. The block of marble being carried by tenfolds of men up towards the estate garden before Johan got to work with his tools once more.
  5. A reign of terrible screams could be heard leaving the Vuiller estate, the already damaged count looking out the window as heavy breaths left him.. yet he paused allowing the tears to roll down his cheek before another breath was taken. The man soon then crawling to get up on his feet moving towards his wife as he would wrap his arms around her.. “None shall get away with this Gwenyth. I do niet care if they what they are or whom they may be.. our Majorie shall be avenged.” Yet another heavy breath, a piece of his heart ripped out on that day.. a damaged man now broken.
  6. “One wonders if they remember when they rallied to murder a king, or if they remember when they aided in the kidnapping in a pregnant Princess.. one would wonder if they remembered the actions they themselves have committed before the bells of war rang.. yet it seems so, but after all. Ignorance is the bliss of the unknowing.” The count of Aquila wondered looking over the lands from his estate, his words spoken to his own kin as they gathered to ready themselves before the battle to come. “They have wished for our destruction since the fall of the petty Kingdom they created by the fall of the Empire. A kingdom that lasted for less than two decades. Yet they also celebrated the ways of the Confederacy and their harvest lords without living by their means… nothing but questions might be raised when it comes to the way do these Veletzers.. this far they are nothing but petty bandits from they have shown.”
  7. Johan Vuiller looked over the missive as he looked over the planned construction and area of the soon to be estate of the Vuiller Household. Many a keep had been held by the Vuiller house in their time, yet none stood as prideful as this.. “Once again people seek to destroy us, yet just as our people survived the exodus from the Empire, so shall we survive and beat this threat that dears knocking at our doors. A oath has been sworn, may I see to it that it is kept until my last breath” the Count looked over the horizon then, leaning upon the ancestral Trident of house Vuiller as he awaited what was to come. Xander, the young heir, a child born to war. His first grasp of this world only hours after Sibyl had returned to Balian after her kidnapping walked around the rooms of the palace, the young child holding small wooden figures of Balianese soldiers. A joyful children’s game based on a far rougher truth. Oblivious to what was to come and the dangers marching towards his homeland.
  8. The Fall of Brasca Keep In the year of our Lord, 12th of Peter’s Glory 87 B.A In ages past, when moons held sway, And suns cast shadows 'pon the day, A tale unfolds in realms unknown, Of Covenant's might, a power grown. Beneath the sky of azure hue, Brasca Keep stood, strong and true, Its walls of stone, a fortress grand, Guarding lands of Covenant's hand. Veletz, foes with hearts of ire, Sought to quench their vengeful fire, With cannons roaring, fierce and loud, They vowed to shroud the keep in shroud. Covenant, a force untamed, With valor bold and weapons named, Arrayed in armor gleaming bright, Stood ready for the coming fight. A clash of steel, a thunderous sound, As warriors met on battleground, But cannons roared with fiery breath, Reducing stone to dust in death. Through moonlit night and dawn's first light, Covenant prevailed in the endless fight, Yet Brasca Keep, once standing tall, Lay shattered, broken, walls in fall. Colliation's banner soared on high, As victors gazed 'neath the open sky, But amidst the ruins, a somber tone, As echoes of cannons forever moan. In epic verse, the tale is spun, Of battles fought and battles won, Yet Brasca Keep, a sacrifice, A haunting memory, a heavy price. So ends the saga, written bold, Of battles fought and stories told, In the annals of time, forevermore, The Covenant's victory, a bittersweet lore. Signed His Excellency, Don Johan Stor Vuiller, Conde de Aquilae, Barón de San Haraldo & Patriarch of House Vuiller. Domus Ministri
  9. The little heir, Alexandros Casimir would stumble wih his steps with the aid from his father Prince Ezren, his tiny arms reaching for his new sister with a bright smile upon his face.
  10. Johan would have returned home with the rest of his brothers and sisters in arms, the young count beaten and bruised, a slight cut over his lip as the taste of blood still filled his mouth. Yet a smile adorned the Vuiller as he looked to his comrads, to his brother, to his wife and family-in-law and lastly to his King. They had done it, yet it was only the first battle of a few to come. Within the Balian palace a cry could be heard from a little child once Sibyl and Ezren returned home, small arms reaching out and up in the air from the heir's crib. @HIGH_FIRE @SapphirePool
  11. Forged in Unity: The Siege of the Corrupted Ferryman Keep In the year of our Lord, 12th of Sun’s smile 86 B.A In an age where the kingdoms of Balian, Haense, Petra, Norland, Aaun, Numendil, Urguan, and Hyspia stood united against the encroaching shadows, a dire threat loomed on the horizon. The malevolent forces of Veletz and Stassion, draped in darkness and malice, had entrenched themselves within the sacred Ferryman Keep—a stronghold that, against its will, had become a bastion for those who sought to engulf the realms of light in shadow. As dusk settled over the lands, the combined army of the eight kingdoms gathered beneath a tattered banner bearing the emblem of unity. Warriors clad in armor adorned with the symbols of their homelands stood shoulder to shoulder, their weapons gleaming with an unwavering resolve. The air crackled with anticipation, for the impending clash was not merely a battle for territory but a struggle between the forces of righteousness—the Army of Black—and the malevolent grip of Veletz and Stassion, who had taken control of the once-hallowed Ferryman Keep. Leading the alliance was a council of commanders, each a paragon of their realm's strength and wisdom. The Kingdom of Balian, known for its skilled archers and disciplined infantry, shared tactics with the Kingdom of Petra, renowned for its cunning strategists and swift cavalry. Norland's hearty warriors stood side by side with the formidable soldiers of Urguan, masters of stone and steel. The Kingdom of Haense, known for its noble knights, forged an unbreakable bond with the Kingdom of Aaun, whose warriors, known for their unyielding discipline and mastery of the blade, stood as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness. Numendil's elven archers melded seamlessly with the enigmatic forces of Hyspia, whose shadowy warriors moved with an ethereal grace. The amalgamation of these mighty forces created an army of unparalleled strength—a beacon of hope in the encroaching night. As the moon ascended, casting an eerie glow upon the Ferryman Keep, the Army of Black approached the fortress with measured steps. The defenders within, corrupted by the influence of Veletz and Stassion, sneered at the approaching host, confident in their dark magic and foul creatures. The siege commenced with a thunderous clash as the two forces collided. The ground quivered beneath the impact of swords clashing, arrows whistling through the air, and spells erupting like arcane fireworks. The defenders unleashed abominable creatures from the shadows, but the united front of the eight kingdoms—the Army of Black—held steadfast. The skies above the battlefield crackled with magic, as the wizards of Numendil conjured protective barriers and devastating spells. The dwarven engineers of Urguan unleashed powerful siege engines, shattering the walls of the corrupted keep. The archers of Balian and Numendil rained arrows upon the enemy, while the knights of Haense and the agile warriors of Petra carved through the dark ranks. Amidst the chaos, the leaders of the alliance fought with valor and determination. United in purpose, they pressed forward toward the heart of the enemy stronghold. As the moon reached its zenith, a blinding light erupted from the corrupted Ferryman Keep, a beacon of triumph that signaled the liberation of this once-holy ground from the clutches of Veletz and Stassion. The enemy, broken and scattered, retreated into the shadows from whence they came. The Army of Black, the true champions of light and justice, celebrated their hard-fought triumph. The Ferryman Keep, now cleansed of darkness, stood tall once more—a testament to the indomitable spirit of those who fought for the light. As the victorious alliance celebrated their hard-fought triumph, a new era of camaraderie and cooperation dawned across the realms. The epic tale of the Army of Black and the Siege of the Corrupted Ferryman Keep became a legendary chapter in the annals of history, a story told by bards and chroniclers for generations to come. Signed His Excellency, Don Johan Stor Vuiller, Conde de Aquilae & Patriarch of House Vuiller. Domus Ministri
  12. The Armada's Triumph: A Midnight Chase In the year of our Lord, 12th of Horen’s Calling 86 B.A In shadows deep, where moonlight weaves, Veletz's bandits, like silent thieves. On roads once trod by hopeful souls, They emerge from darkness, taking tolls. Harm they sought in the quiet night, Civilians trembled, their dreams in flight. But on the horizon, a distant sound, The Armada of Balian, like justice, bound. Their arrival thundered, a tempest near, Veletz's bandits, whispers of fear. Tales of valor in the Armada's wake, As they approached, the ground did quake. With banners flying and swords held high, The Armada of Balian filled the sky. Veletz's bandits, with hearts now frail, Turned and fled, like leaves in the gale. Their tales tucked between trembling legs, A retreat as swift as a falcon's begs. The roads once haunted, now free and clear, The Armada's triumph, a victory cheer. In moonlit trails and starry expanse, Veletz's bandits in hasty advance. The Armada's light dispelled the night, Restoring peace with a radiant might. Courage prevailed, the innocent smiled, As the Armada of Balian reconciled. In the face of darkness, tales rewritten, A saga of triumph, where hope is smitten. Signed His Excellency, Don Johan Stor Vuiller, Conde de Aquilae & Patriarch of House Vuiller. Domus Ministri
  13. As the Count of Aquilae read the letter a faint hum would leave him, he himself having been the victim of a group of veletzian bandits just a few hours past. Yet there was no anger filling him as he read the missive, rather a mark of interest and joy reading the words of the newly crowned King Johnnes. A sense of awaited justice to be delivered, the time of a proper trial against one who has allowed their men to commit a horrible crime. A hope was kept, that maybe more bloodshed might be spared and that justice itself would see the light of day.
  14. Johan signed the lorraine before he continued to gather what one may need for the war to come. "******* heathens the lot of them" he muttered as he continued on.
  15. Crimson Reckoning, A Ballad of Unity and Triumph In the year of our Lord, 9th of Sigismund's End 85 B.A In Stassion's shadow, darkness bred, A tale of terror, of fear widespread. Veletz and Stassion, a nefarious alliance, Their sinister plots, a cruel defiance. In Aaun's kingdom, Edmund the Just, A noble king, in him we trust. Yet, treachery struck, a darkened fate, The Stassionites' violence, a kingdom's hate. Oh, the Kingdom of Aaun, mourns its king, As sorrow and anger through its lands sing. But united they stand, Balian's might, Haense and Hyspia, in the moon's soft light. A coalition formed, a force so grand, To rid the lands of Stassion's cruel hand. Petra and Aaun, hand in hand, Against the darkness, they took a stand. Balian's banners fluttered in the breeze, A symbol of hope, to put minds at ease. The Kingdom of Haense, a stalwart shield, In unity, their foes they would wield. Through forests dense and mountains high, The alliance marched, beneath the sky. In the fields of battle, courage ablaze, They fought for justice, in countless ways. Stassion and Veletz, their fortress strong, A citadel of evil, where shadows throng. But the Kingdoms five, a force untold, Stormed the gates with hearts so bold. The clash of steel, the roar of fire, Echoed through the lands, higher and higher. Balian's forces, a torrential tide, Against the darkness, they'd not be denied. Aaun's fallen king, his spirit near, Guiding the warriors, banishing fear. In the name of justice, they fought as one, For a brighter dawn, when the battle was done. As the sun dipped low, on that fateful day, Stassion's walls crumbled in disarray. Veletz defeated, their reign undone, The alliance victorious, their battles won. In the aftermath, a kingdom's sigh, For Edmund the Just, they'd never say goodbye. Through unity and strength, they stood tall, Against the darkness, they would never fall. Signed His Excellency, Don Johan Stor Vuiller, Conde de Aquilae & Patriarch of House Vuiller. Domus Ministri
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