Mio

Marius Audemar sat on the edge of the bed, and stared down absently at the scabbarded Raevsblade Svjetlast across his lap. That blade had cut through swathes of Petrans to secure Valfleur for the loyalist cause, and it hadn't faltered once during the battle. He stared at the grooves of the scabbard's leather, his eyes unseeing as the words of Constanz's challenge reverberated in his head. Marius had little respect for the man, and certainly no love. And yet ... I took so much from you, he thought wistfully as he ran a gentle hand along the length of the scabbarded sword. The least I can give you is a worthy death.

Marius Audemar returned to the Kingdom of Haense with a grin on his lips, he said simply: "A win's a win." To his brother Georg, the King.

ALEKSANDR, GRAND PRINCE OF KUSORAEV ran by and taped a missive to the inept man's face: "You're just all brawn. No brains!" The Princeling shouted in the midst of his escape.

MC Name: MioII Discord: mio#2068 Image: Description of Image: a painting of someone, still yet to be chosen x2 Dimensions: 1x2

MC Name: MioII Discord: mio#2068 Image: Description of Image: a painting of someone, still yet to be chosen Dimensions: 1x1

Marius Audemar had been spinning in circles atop that rolling chair for at least an hour within his brother's office -- who just so happened to be the King of Haense! "YOU'VE GOT MAIL!" Croaked a terribly annoyed courier at the door, having been summoned to the office at least a dozen times that evening for matters miscellaneous or otherwise purely tedious. Reluctantly in the end, did he slide that missive regarding the summit beneath the door.

"free loot" proclaimed marius audemar

"You were two different warriors." Marius Audemar, the once frightened Prince, reconciled with himself as he wiped at those slow falling tears upon his sleepless cheeks. Those tears which appeared akin to the rain which slickly fell against the stained glass panes of the St. Heinrik's basilica where he sat in utter solitude, hoping that prayer was a feasible means of connection between him and his departed parents. Could they hear him? He'd hoped so. He had learned swordsmanship from his father, how to traverse the field of battle and how to allocate men to their respective troops. However, it was his mother who taught him how to captivate the heart of a person, to reach into their soul instill that rage and light ablaze the patriotism within, that taught him how to ensure each soldiers will to continue went on. It may have been his father that gave him his own fight, but it was his mother who fostered it. It was all those moons ago when the Princeling was left shivering alone in the Royal Quarters hall, his face pallid, teeth chattering, and staring at the blank space on the wall where he could've sworn a beast of the void sought to get him. His mother and among all her sacrifices, came to the boys aid albeit his preposterous claims, aided him through the night, and fought off those foul beast which haunted the boy. He knew within her presence he could rest easy. "It's your turn. Mamej. You watched over us for so long- you may rest easy now."

Aleksandr Leopold knew that if he just looked up at the stars enough, he would find memory of his dear grandfather.

Marius Audemar wept, for his father was gone. Had it been so long? Since the times of his father burying him beneath the powder-snow of the Rimeveld along with his sister to teach the Princeling discipline. Since the times of drawn out politicking, upon the matters of foreign affairs, the management of the Kingdom. Since the times of Warfare where his father stood tall among all, as a beacon to remind each soldier valiantly that the fight goes on, that the battle was not lost- victory was ahead. He wondered if all had been in vain, if all had been for naught. His father gave him life, education, his father gave him fight. It was he who crafted him from a young boy to a prospering man, meticulous in his lessons and word. He battled the thought of if life would continue, if it could all go on, if he could continue to be the man his father expected of it. The final words between Karl and Marius offered the boy closure, words he would look back upon: "Live without me, Marius. That is all I shall say. Your legacy is your own." Marius was his sword, his ears, his advisor. Trumping everything, Marius was his son. This life of his, goes on, so Marius smiled. "Rest now, father. Your final triumph."

locking the post cause bro you aint getting unbanned. wait the like 13 days. unless you say slurs again, then it will be extended.

link puh-lease!!

as the post said the entire function of posts are archaic and clunky. we can have nicer looking / functioning systems now. I think the "tell" for what will be a node should be changed but it'll be more obvious and stand out anyway. also i'd hope it's common sense not to click a piece of cobblestone with an iron shovel.