NLThomas

Lord of the Rings and Elden Ring art in my darkspawn slop? Awh hell yeah it's peak already

"Ave Adria!" A patriot screams through the streets of the beautiful Adria!

"Red and black.." Ludwik comments to himself in a light amused tone. "If only I had the money.."

“Godani jest wieczny!” Issued by the As the spring’s warmth melts the winter frost away. Peace returns to the realm with the war to an end. Let there be a time of merriment and celebration! May all the realm be invited to join in friendly competition, and a chance to win some rewards in the Adrian woods. The first competition will be a show of strength. One team will be placed across another, and both must pull on a rope. The team that ends up in the mud first, loses! And the winning team will get 300 minas divided between them. The team sizes will depend on the amount present, but will not be above six. The second competition is one of accuracy. A limited amount of arrows will be provided, and various targets will be set up. Each target gives a set amount of points. Whoever ends with the highest score, will be proclaimed the winner. May the best archer win, and for their skills be rewarded a bow, made from the sturdy Josip's Witness trees found in the Adrian woods. Signed by, Miloš Sarkozic, Count of Aldersberg Ludwik Sarkozic

Just pay your taxes or admit you are poor

Some people drown while others die of thirst 🙏🙏🦶

Meta Knight, but in Super Smash Bros Brawl cause my character is a little bitch.

"Like any Empire, it has quickly fallen into bureaucracy and corruption. And the wheel turns.." An old scholar comments. Tapping a feather against his dome a few times to ponder what to write, before deciding to tear the paper up, for none caught in such a system would bother to listen and release their grasp of power.

An opportunistic Wick hammers another missive beneath that of Fionn on the town's board. "For all those seeking a smith to forge the aurum into a dagger, Stephan Wick is willing for the meager price of thirty minas! Send a letter if interested."

It's almost as if this is about a CA, which is played by... and hear me out, players, who experience things, and have opinions. A hard concept to grasp I know so do read it a few times over.

The quiet shifting and rustling of fabric suddenly broken by a frightened scream in the night, echoing betwixt the empty stone walls. A mouth wide agape, the tongue once within left to a stump. The boy, not even sixteen, attempting to scream out into the night for help yet no words left him. The screaming turns hoarse, dry throat gasping for air with his hands wrapped around it, tears unceasing in its stream. There he sat, the young stubborn Wick, in the darkness of the night, his mind running wild with all sorts of thoughts of vengence and that faithful day when his tongue was cut out by the butcher. And in the darkness, between the attempts at cursing. The mute mind rages around like a violent storm,. Vengence brewing. And he never forgave, and he could never forget the pain and suffering he led, and he who wielded the knife.

𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊 Darkness. Night had fallen over the northern regions and an unceasing blizzard chilling to the very bones raged on. The storm unending, like their march. The walls of lumbridge were not there to protect them from the wind. All the elf could ponder was. “Why am I here? So far from home.” Soon they met. A force of Haenseni soldiers ready for battle. Black steel clashes against black steel, and soon the warrior of Xion was alone on a frozen mountainside. A shove, a parry, a stab to the neck and the warrior falters against his opponent. His glove, stained in blood, falls on the valiant soldier’s shoulder. Faintly, that soldier, a human prince from far lands, whispers “You fought well” before the foul sound of the metal cutting through meat screams into the warrior's ear as the sword is torn from his neck. Once more the thought rushed through his head. “Why am I here? So far from home.” The red stained glove tightens at the prince his pauldron. A whisper of his own escaping between the sounds of him choking on his own blood. “C-Carry my… body to- to the sea..” His knee succumbs and he falls down. The crimson stained hand dragged down the prince’s pauldron, leaving a trail on it. “Let the ri- rising tide… wash over me..” A breathless voice spoke from under the helmet and he fell to his side in the snow, painted crimson red. As a request was made, so too was it honored. The zealous soldier’s body was left at the shore, taken away by the waves with a final salute by the man who put him to rest. The rising tides came washing over him, staining it red and carrying his body far away, lost at sea. His flesh soon but rotting meat for the fish, yet his mind was carried away. Darkness overtook him, an unseen force dragging him deep beneath the waves. He gasps for air but only water fills his lungs, drowning him yet never dying. Far away did his mind drift. Even after all this time he still felt like he was drowning like all those decades ago. Forever drowning in life with nothing to pull him to the surface. Was this his life? Is this all he remembers? Drowning forever beneath the waves of his own guilt and mortality. This was his life. An eternal struggle to try and surface. Eyes open in the darkness. So deep beneath the surface that no light ever pierced that far, yet out there, there was a faint yellow light, so faint one could barely even tell it was there but it was the only thing there in the deep darkness of the ocean. Quietly he stares, wondering, is that a lighthouse with a dying light in the dark? Slowly it neared. Now, a monstrous golden eye, barely visible, but it became clear it was a reflection of his own eyes, golden. “Am I that monster of the deep?”. A creature sunken to the bottom of the ocean, beyond any saving grace. So he lets the waves of his memories wash over him. Still as can be to let the water carry him away. As he surrenders himself to his thoughts, he awakens to his own screams bubbling awake in the fluids, his body floating in a tube. A fist reaches out and glass breaks. The water that drowned him spilled over the cold stone floor upon which he collapsed. New lungs breathing the cold damp air. Born anew from the conflict in the frost. Born anew from the tides that took him away. Born anew from the darkness of his mind. This time, he was no longer drowning.

A figure had slipped away from their very fingers in the halls of Lumbridge. Both the church and Azdrazi having failed to capture the servant of the Dark.

A soft ticking of clockwork rings through the room. A pale elf at his desk working away at some sort of machinery. It was then a mechanical raven lands on his shoulder and gave him the missive. Quietly reading through it before softly mumbling a bit to himself. "Another star vanished." The Court alchemist raises to a stand then and donning his armor followed by a sigh. "Rest well Prince. The Ebrietaes is a harsh place but you will endure."

Great change is all I can say about it. +1

Love the post but I beg of you to make the black text some other color. Those words are impossible to read without selecting.

"Perhaps I had a lack of judgement when it comes to Adelia.. ah well, everyone is wrong once in a while." The pale elf shrugs and carries on with his writing. Assuring himself that he is never ever wrong.

"Usurper and a liar. She has no right to call herself Atmorice nor Fennic with her voidal taint." The Court Alchemist of Celia'nor spoke to the metalic raven on his shoulder as he stood in the forge. Placing the missive down to work on some new weapon. Hammer strike after strike ring the yellow hot metal. "The Prince was foolish to be deceived by a farce snake's words. Nay. A worm. I do hope the young Prince will grow wiser from this.."

Within Dio are two Presidents

You are NOT him!!!

Believe we haven't interacted all that much but the few times I can recall always were a joy. Godspeed Grim. Become the chef you were born to be.

Would we be able to rename the bag? If so, that would be huuuuge for alchemy storage in general.