Lickspittle

CHARACTER NAME: IKE RHYS

IGN: Lickspittle

AGE: 17

WHERE ARE YOU FROM?: MY HOUSE

DISCORD: Lickspittle#5373

Issue One 

11th of the Wzuvar & Byvca

Volume One 

The Kvaz Khronicle

 

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“Karosgrad after a snow storm” depicted by Branimar Kvazyev

 

 

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Stories of the day:

 

-Grand Prince of Kusoraev Married!

 

-Saving our Soldiers! Ruthern wins big in Duma!

 

-Election results covered here!

 

Page 1

Grand Prince of Kusoraev Celebrates Lavish Wedding Day

 

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As the day of the Grand Prince of Kusoraev's much-anticipated wedding arrived, excitement built throughout the kingdom. The royal palace was abuzz with activity as preparations for the big day were underway.

 

We spoke with one of the palace servants, who wished to remain anonymous, about the preparations they had been witness to. "It was a flurry of activity," the servant told us. "The palace was cleaned from top to bottom. The kitchen had been working around the clock to prepare the feast, and the staff had been rehearsing their roles for the day. It was going to be a truly magnificent event."

 

The Grand Prince and his bride-to-be had not been seen much in public recently, as they had been busy with final preparations for the wedding. However, the servant shared that the couple seemed very happy and excited for their big day.

 

The wedding was a lavish affair, with guests from all over the kingdom and beyond in attendance. The ceremony took place in the beautiful Basilica, and was followed by grand celebrations.

 

We will continue to bring updates on the Grand Prince's newlywed life as time goes on, especially as he begins his tours of his vassals. For now, the kingdom celebrates this joyous occasion.

 

Poem of events by Kasimir Kvazyev:

 

In days of old, when knights were bold

And lords and ladies fair

A prince did seek a noble bride

To join him in his royal lair

 

With sword in hand, he rode the land

In search of true love's kiss

And when at last he found his match

His heart did swell with bliss

 

For she was fair, with golden hair

And eyes that sparkled bright

Her gentle touch and loving heart

Brought joy to his lonely nights

 

Together they did pledge their troth

In a ceremony grand

And as they knelt before the altar

Their love was declared and fanned

 

So let us raise a glass and toast

To this royal couple true

May their marriage last a lifetime

And their love forever renew.

 

 

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Page 2

Lady Alderwoman Adelajda vas Ruthern's Act to Support Injured Soldiers Passes with Widespread Support

 

Editor's note: We understand this coverage comes from a previous duma session, but we believe the content held within the bill and its passage is of monumental importance to cover.

 

In a recent development in the Duma, Lady Alderwoman Adelajda vas Ruthern's proposed act to provide financial compensation to members of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl and Knights of the Kingdom who have suffered injuries while in the line of duty has passed with widespread support. The Medical Compensation Advisory Act of 453 ES proposes that those who have undergone amputations be eligible for compensation to help them acquire prosthetic replacements for their lost limbs or digits.

 

The act has been met with widespread support from both military personnel and civilians alike. Many have praised Lady Alderwoman Adelajda vas Ruthern for her dedication to supporting those who put their lives on the line to protect the kingdom. The proposal has also been hailed as a crucial step in recognizing the sacrifices made by our brave soldiers and ensuring that they receive the care and support they need.

 

The successful passage of this act is a testament to the nobility's commitment to supporting our military and ensuring that they have the resources they need to continue serving the kingdom with distinction. We would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to Lady Alderwoman Adelajda vas Ruthern and all those who supported this crucial legislation. 

 

 

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Page 3

Kvazyev feeds the poor!

 

As he strolled through the streets of the small village in which he lived, a poor young boy held tightly in his hand a piece of bread, which had been given to him by his mother for his midday meal. Despite his meager circumstances, the boy was content, for he knew that he was loved. Upon coming across a group of children engaged in playful merriment, the boy felt a pang of envy, but he quickly pushed it aside, choosing instead to join in their games. When the other children saw the bread in the boy's hand, they begged him to share it with them. After a moment's hesitation, the boy broke off a piece of the bread and offered it to the group, feeling a sense of joy at the thought of having brought a smile to their faces.

 

The Kvazyev family, known for their generosity and kindness, has once again demonstrated their commitment to helping those in need by providing nourishing bread to impoverished children in their community.

 

 

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Page 4

Your ad could be here!

Bird Kasimir Kvazyev to purchase a cheap space!

 

Election Coverage!

 

As the kingdom prepares for the upcoming XLIII Session of the Royal Duma, many are looking to the three elected officials who will be filling the seats. Royal Alderwoman Adelajda vas Ruthern and Grand Maer Roui de Melphestaus have been praised by anonymous sources for their competency and plans for the upcoming Session. "Adelajda vas Ruthern has always been a strong voice in the Duma," said one source. "Her dedication to the kingdom and her willingness to listen to the concerns of the people make her an excellent choice for the upcoming Session, especially with her Medical act." Another source praised Roui de Melphestaus, saying, "His experience and level-headedness will be crucial in guiding the Duma through these trying times. I have no doubt that he will be an asset to the kingdom."

 

Not all elected officials have received such praise, however. Royal Alderman Atilan Bishop has been criticized by anonymous sources for being a poor choice for the Duma. "His track record in the Duma has been lackluster, at best," said one source. "He lacks the vision and leadership skills that are necessary for the role. I fear that he will only hinder the progress of the Duma in the upcoming Session." Another source echoed these sentiments, saying, "Bishop's selection for the Duma is a disappointment. I have no confidence in his abilities to serve the kingdom effectively in this position."

 

The kingdom awaits the start of the XLIII Session with anticipation, eager to see how these elected officials will shape the future of the Duma and the kingdom as a whole.

 

 

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Page 5

Neigh, Horses aren’t Controversial!

 

The Kvaz received the following letter to the editor. We find it necessary to rebuke it!

 

As a resident of the Kingdom of Haense, I have long been a proud supporter of our noble traditions and way of life. However, there is one small aspect of our kingdom that I feel could be improved upon: the use of horses for official transportation.

 

For centuries, it has been customary for horses to be used for the transportation of royalty and other high-ranking officials. This practice is steeped in tradition and is seen by many as a symbol of our kingdom's wealth and sophistication. However, I believe that it is time for us to move beyond this outdated mode of transportation and embrace a more modern approach.

 

First and foremost, the use of horses is impractical and inefficient. Horses are expensive to maintain and can be unpredictable, making them unreliable for official transportation.

 

Furthermore, the use of horses can create a sense of exclusivity and elitism that is at odds with our kingdom's values. At official functions, only a select few are able to enjoy the luxury of being transported by horse, while the majority must make do with other, less effective methods. 

 

**

 

As the premier newspaper of the Kingdom of Haense, it is our duty to provide balanced and accurate reporting on the events and issues that affect our beloved kingdom. In light of the recent editorial calling for the abandonment of horses for official transportation, we feel it is necessary to provide a counterargument that highlights the many virtues of this time-honored tradition.

 

First and foremost, it must be noted that the use of horses is not merely a symbol of our kingdom's wealth and sophistication, but a crucial aspect of our cultural heritage. For centuries, our ancestors have relied on horses for transportation, and the skill and artistry involved in the breeding of horses is a testament to their ingenuity and bravery. To abandon this tradition would be to erase a significant part of our history and identity.

 

In addition, the use of horses is not impractical or inefficient, as the previous editorial suggests. On the contrary, horses are strong, reliable animals that can be trained to meet the specific needs of official transportation. In addition, the slow and stately pace of horses is perfectly suited to the dignified nature of official events, and allows those who are being transported the opportunity to enjoy the sights and sounds of our kingdom in a leisurely and enjoyable manner.

 

Furthermore, the use of horses does not create a sense of exclusivity or elitism, as the previous editorial claims. On the contrary, the sight of a beautiful and well-maintained horse is a source of pride and inspiration for our people. It reminds us of the greatness and splendor of our kingdom, and inspires us to strive for excellence in all that we do.

 

In conclusion, we believe that the use of horses for official transportation is a vital and cherished part of our kingdom's traditions. We are grateful to have a wise and visionary king who recognizes the importance of this tradition and is committed to preserving it for future generations.

 

 

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Page 6

The Kvazyev Company

 

 

The Kvazyev Company is a trading company specializing in weaponry, banking, trading, and meals for the hungry. Seek out Branimar (Doggedwasupxxx) or Kasimir Kvazyev (Lickspittle) for a job. (Dogged#8148, Lickspittle#5373)

 

 

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Want an advertisement in this newspaper?
Want to submit a letter to the editor?

Want to give us a story?

Is there something that must be said?

 

 Bird Kasimir Kvazyev! (Lickspittle#5373)

[https://youtu.be/nn_0zPAfyo8]

 

Only a fitting end…

[PK] Markus’ Resolution

 

 

 

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As if it was any other day, Markus began setting up his tent.

 

He sat down his pack just off the road, a good distance away from a small hamlet. He was somewhere in the hills between Haense and Aaun. The rocky hills gave way to a small field, and he elected to create his camp there. No cozy tree to sit under- but that was okay for him. He couldn’t have it every day. He opened up his canteen to take a drink. There was barely any alcohol in it- just enough to ensure the drink was clean.

 

If there ever was a promise he had kept, it was his promise to Koeng Sigismund- his promise to cease his incessant drinking. It was tough- very tough- at first, but eventually, it grew easier.

 

It became one of his proudest accomplishments.

 

Abandoning Haense. Abandoning his Marian duties. Abandoning his Morovar kin. Abandoning his responsibilities, duties, and expectations. If there ever was one thing that he abandoned that was good, it was his drink. If there ever was one thing that he abandoned that he wished he hadn’t, well – that story has been told a thousand times.

 

It did flash in his mind still, often. 

 

How many years has it been now? Twenty? 

 

What if I hadn’t accepted the results? What if I didn’t let everyone down? What if-

 

His doubts constantly plagued him, though he did never again attempt suicide.

 

It is true. Markus had fled from Karosgrad. From Haense. From responsibilities. The streets he had grown up in, and served, were all too familiar a reminder of his failures. He had begun to recover, to move on- but he spiraled. 

 

What truly caused him to spiral, even he didn’t know. Whether it was the sudden change in the abstinence from drinking. Whether it was that one time he achieved euphoria at that one festival. Whether it was seeing Adelajda daily.

 

But he did spiral.

 

Before he left, he gave up his blade, back to his father’s friend. He walked with a newer one- a weaker one, one not thanhic.  

 

He was about to use it.

 

He finished the tent- it was a simple piece of cloth, held together with stakes. It had to be light and small, considering it had to be taken around daily. Night had begun to fall, and he had elected not to make a fire and instead eat from some salted provisions.

So that’s when he noticed the glare from the village in the distance.

 

“Looks like some idiot kindled their fire too well,” Markus would remark sarcastically with a grumble, before putting on his belt, fastening his sword, and beginning his jaunt over.

 

He watched it grow bigger and bigger, consuming more buildings.

 

He then began to hear the screams.

He then began to increase his pace.

He then began to loosen his sword in his scabbard.

 

He eventually became just about a field’s length away, and saw veiled men throwing about torches. A sacking party.

 

He rushed forth, drawing his blade.

 

He met his first opponent behind one of the houses, an unsuspecting bandit with only a torch in his hand.

Markus slew him without remorse, but not without him crying out.

 

Soon, it was as if they had swarmed upon him- many men threw themselves upon Markus, but they weren’t skilled bandits- they weren’t match for his experience. He cut down the five or so that came upon him, and rushed into the first house.

 

Inside was a child, cowering in the corner as flames licked the side of the building. Markus gave the child a wave, as if he wanted him to come forth- but the frightened child shook his head in terror, tears consuming his face.

 

“Move, or these flames will consume us both! Eam niet leaving without vy!” Markus exclaimed, pleading to the child. The pleas worked.

 

The child fled, leaping over a burning piece of the thatch roofing burning on the dirt floor. Markus grabbed him by the shoulder, and began to lead him out of the house.

 

Outside, two bandits had waited for him. Markus yanked the child to the side of the house, before engaging the two with his sword. Luckily, his gambeson had absorbed a weak blow to his arm- their ragged clothes no match for his blade. It was clear these weren’t professionals, or Ferrymen.

 

Markus went back to regard the child.

 

That’s me. 

 

Amidst the carnage, he found himself in a touching moment with the child.

 

“What’s vyr name, boy?”

“Ekhard.”

“Ekhard. Take this. Run that way, to my camp. If eam niet there in a few Saint’s Minutes- pack it up and run. Don’t get help. It’s too late.”

“What will vy do?”

“Niet run.”

 

And he did not.

He faced many bandits, his training granting him strength.

But his true strength came from not running.

He had always ran.

But not this time.

 

The damage had already been done. But perhaps he had been able to prevent the slaughter.

But he was unable to prevent his death.

 

His gambeson had been torn to rags by the time he had finished- the adrenaline running off. Blood streamed out of his body steadily

 

In his travels, he always had time to ponder. But it was before his death when he had the most time, as he laid comfortably on the ground.

 

His thoughts returned to his life. All of his loss.

 

 

He had lost his best friend. 

His mother. 

His father. 

His twin. 

His future. 

His positions. 

His name. 

His glory. 

His duty. 

His body.

His love.

His mind.

 

 

But in the end- he had regained it all.

 

His pride. His duty. He had served. I will have died with honor.

 

He was soon to be reunited with all the people he had lost

 

All except what had mattered to him most, all of those years.

 

But that didn’t matter anymore, not to him.

 

In death, he gained absolution.

 

In death, he let go. He let go of Margrait.

 

In death he finally achieved victory.

 

In death he forgave everyone.

 

In death, he forgave himself.

 

 

 

"Good times." Commented a content Markus Morovar. "Good ending."

The Woods of Oren,

Two Years Ago

 

 

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The bells of the Basilica tolled loudly, though Markus didn’t notice too much from inside.

 

However, it would seem to be enough to wake him from an apparent slumber- his head would snap to attention. As his eyes flashed open, and he adjusted to the light, he'd notice he stood before the altar. He’d smack his dry lips together lightly, and rock his head back and forth with a subtle crack as he slowly regained his bearings.

 

How long had I dozed off? I couldn’t have been out for too long.

 

He’d glance down, and saw himself wearing unblemished plate armor- finer plate than he’d ever had seen. His best dress. Adorning it, was the Morovarian Coat of Arms- and tucked in his left arm was a fine piece of cloth, which likewise bore the signature of his house. Confused, he’d turn around- to see Konstanz Barclay, likewise dressed as sharply as him. He’d simply shoot a childlike, mischievous grin to his best friend before turning around.

Markus had regained his bearings. Markus knew where he was. It was the best day of his life. 

 

His wedding day.

 

Excited, but yet nervous, as all prospective groomsmen were- he’d glance at the crowd. He recognized the faces of his many friends he had grown up with. The Vyronovs showed out, as the two large brothers occupied a pew to themselves. The princes, his other friends- Karl, Sergei, Josef, all sat in a pew, accompanied by their Marian. The Dame, Mariya, sat eagerly waiting in a pew- seeming much older than Markus thought was right.

 

Diverting his eyes to another section of the Basilica, he’d eye his twin brother, Petyr, who raised his hand in greeting. He’d poke their mother to alert her- Eleanore would then grant Markus the biggest smile he had ever seen.

 

If she could right now, she’d give me the biggest hug. I know it.

 

His father would look upon Markus with watery eyes, a proud gaze befalling his son. The duo would exchange courteous nods- the message they had just communicated known only to a father and a son. 

 

He’d continue his assessment of the crowd. Notably toting their colours, the Baruchs sat in a row- His boss, the Palatine himself, Eirik, sat dwarfed by the always intimidating Isabel, who, in an anticlimactic finish, was followed by Saoirse. The trio noticed Markus’ attention, and proceeded to wave, hoop, and holler at him.

 

Family.

 

He’d then return his gaze back to the altar, to see the Pontiff himself, to his surprise.

Breaking free of his astonishment, Markus would politely dip his head to his holiness. After reciprocating the courtesy, the Pontiff would quickly shush the crowd, just as the doors to the Basilica were opened.

 

A veiled woman would enter, in traditional Haeseni wedding attire. She’d begin her slow walk towards the altar, rose petals adorning the floor as she meandered forth. It seemed an eternity to Markus as she walked forth. His heart beat out of his chest, as he averted his eyes to the floor to ease his nerves.

 

Finally, however, the walk had finished, and it was time for the ceremony to begin. The woman ascended the altar, taking the position opposite of Markus. She’d lift the veil hiding her face, causing Markus to gasp- loud enough for only the three of them to hear.

 

She’s… all I’ve ever wanted. All I ever will want.

 

The two would clasp their hands together, as the Pontiff began to rattle off the words he had said a thousand times before- the words flew right on over Markus’ head.

 

I’ll be a papej. I’ll be the best papej there ever was. My son and I, we’ll play forts, play knights. My daughter will rescue me from the clutches of a dragon! And we’ll go and have a tea party!

 

He’d then glance back up at Margrait, his wide smile revealing what he was thinking.

 

And they’ll be as beautiful as her.

 

Eventually, the Pontiff finally got to the part where they exchanged vows- and, in what seemed like a blur to Markus, they finally got to the end of the ceremony. Markus would stride forth to sweep Margrait off her feet, but suddenly, she’d hold her hand out.

 

“Markus! Ye know we cannae! Ye know ah’m married now.”

 

Markus would chuckle, shaking his head.

 

“Da! To me!”

 

“Nae. To Mikhail.”

 

A constant stream of rain began to thud on the roof, and a dull pain began to throb behind Markus’ eyes.

 

“Nie… Nie. Vy canniet be married to Mikhail! Vy… vy are supposed to be married. To me! Niet the abuser! Niet the snake!”

 

“Sorry, Markus. But ye know et must be. Now wake up, love. The Kingdom needs ye.”

 

The roof of the Basilica turned to the cloth roof of his tent, and the warm feeling turned to pain- in Markus’ stomach, in his head, and all over his body. All he felt was pain. And wetness.

 

How can I be wet? The roof of the tent is perfectly fine.

 

He’d lurch forward, and look down at his tabard. It was completely soaked in what appeared to be vomit. With a groan, he’d lean onto his side, and regard the many, many, empty bottles that littered the tent.

 

“Why can’t I just die!”

 

His voice was hoarse after he cried out. He knew nobody listened- he knew nobody heard. He knew nobody cared. Konstanz was long dead by now.

 

It was the fourth time he had attempted to die this way. Each time, he awoke from his attempt- with a pounding hangover, and a lurching stomach. Each time he awoke, he was reminded of his failure. The lady he wanted was in another castle- and he slept in a filthy tent. 

 

He’d eventually garner together enough strength to leave his tent, stepping outside into the pouring rain. Eventually, in a fit of anger, he’d begin to abuse his tent. Starting with the wooden frame, he’d begin to smash bottles against it, bend it, snap it- whatever it allowed. He’d pound his fist against the ground, over, and over, and over again- proclaiming his failure.

 

“Loser! Bastard! Weak-minded, effeminate excuse of a man! Vyr not half the man Mikhail is! Vy gave up! Vy need her! Vy need her, and vy lost her!”

 

Lightning would flash, and eventually, after a while, he’d fall to his knees- and eventually, after a while, he’d defeatedly lie on his back. The rain would lightly, yet affectionately, tap on his face. 

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

His mind would flash back to the time spent with Margrait in Ghaestenwald, prior to his leaving. 

 

His face was flushed red with anger. He’d let loose a little tantrum, kicking baggage as if he was but a toddler who did not want to leave a friend’s house. Meanwhile, Margrait nervously stood in the corner of the room. 

 

“The Papej! Me! Me! It should be me! Niet Mikhail! Me! Ea will crumble his walls, if he even touches vy!”

 

Margrait would become angry, shooting an accusing finger at Markus. She’d scold him for his incessant anger, his yelling- his threats.

 

The tapping of the rain would bring him back to the present, and he’d let his body lay at rest.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

“Eam a child. Eam simply a child, an anguished child who throws vain tantrums. Ea still haven’t fixed myself, my anger, even after Margrait asked. Nie. After Margrait Demanded.”

 

“Mikhail isn’t a snake. And he’s… grown. Moved on. Since we were kids. Eam the one who hasn’t. Eam the flawed one.”

 

He’d shake his head with a sigh, covering his eyes with his hands.

 

“Margrait shouldn’t have me. Eam nie papej. Eam nie husband.”

 

“Eam nie man.”

Markus Morovar dropped to his knees- was he able to withstand yet another tragedy in his life? Was he strong enough? Those, however, weren't the questions asked in Markus' head- the only resounding thought was why.

Markus Morovar would first glance over the missive with furrowed, suspicious brows- though eventually, he would give in. Markus would begin to think long and hard about his childhood- his happiness, his inner peace. He then found it difficult to find a dream- was his mind not steeled enough for this man's incoherent ramblings of a quest? He continued to think, finding himself unable to settle on nothing else than the dream he had held for his whole life- the dream that can never, and will never, come true- and the dream that has caused him his anguish in the closest years.

 

"Perhaps eam unready for this quest," he'd say aloud, as he saw his mind descend into negative thoughts- the opposite of what was asked of. "For my mind descended into darkness, the moment ea allowed it freedom. Though, ea- heh. Ea implore, the, uh, Great Redmane, to, uh-" He'd then kneel down, picking up a stone. "Tell me how to put a dream on here, or whatever he asks of." He'd then begin to mutter how utterly insane his actions seemed.

RP Name: Reynault Godfrey

IGN: Lickspittle

Allegiance: Castile

Mani: (Animal you will represent): Horse 

Very Cool, Very Gamer, Very +1.

Certified gamerboss moment. LOTC Pride SLAYS the MC community <33

 

A CALL TO DUEL

TO MIKHAIL VAR RUTHERN

 

 

Issued by the

BARONY OF GHAESTENWALD

On this 11th day of Joma ag Umund of 419 ES

 

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TO THE BARON OF ROSTIG,

 

The venomous snake strikes once more. It seems the removal of its poison does little to remove its aggression and capacity to induce pain.

 

Within this Saint’s Day, it has been announced that a betrothal between yourself, Lord Mikhail Ruthern, and the woman who I had been permitted to court; the woman whose mutual affection has been renowned publicly for years now. Many can recall the day where you struck Lady Margrait with great ire and fury, for you, Lord Mikhail, have publicly apologised for. Fewer can recall where your assurance had been afforded that you would stay away from Margrait, to ensure no further violence would come her way. I had come to forgive your sleights.

 

Alas, it appears these words meant naught, as you have betrayed your words and caused me great anguish. Wisdom has failed me, in allowing myself to trust in your word, which has been forever contorted and tainted for the entirety of your existence upon this plane. You are a snake with no venom, and as such, I do not fear your bite; but your bite still has caused great pain, and suffering. 

 

I am no snake. My word is as strong as steel. My bite is steel. My bite shall hurt. 

 

Face me in the hippodrome of Karosgrad within a saint’s hour from now accompanied by your second. The duel shall be for honour, with the provided terms below by Lady Margrait herself; to the first wound. I may not be able to change this future union, as much as my heart yearns for it. But, I am able to preserve a sliver of my dignity.

 

SHOULD I WIN THIS DUEL, THE FOLLOWING TERMS ARE AGREED:

 

I. With this announcement reveals your deceit and lies to all, one which is now apparent. Since your Lordship is privy to treachery, it will do no further harm to break another promise you have made. I shall be given permission to wed Dorothea vas Ruthern, sister to you and good friend of Margrait should she not find a worthy match. In the instance she should, then Viktoriya vas Ruthern shall take the place of Dorothea in my desire for union. It is the foremost priority of a noble to procure a suitable heir to continue their family’s noble lineage. I foolishly thought I had secured such a marriage, but it has forcibly been wrenched from my grasp. Thus, I shall forcibly regain it, and with someone whom I know I can trust.

 

If I shall not marry for love, then I shall marry out of duty. Let the marriage be loveless; but I shall not make it miserable. You have promised Dorothea a happy marriage; I am happy to provide for Dorothea, for my conscience, for you, Mikhail, and for Margrait. Dorothea may not be my Ruskan Rose, but her petals and thorns shall belong to me.

 

II. For this marriage, all fees shall be paid by you, Mikhail var Ruthern.

 

III. I shall be able to absolutely privately visit and check up upon your betrothed, Lady Margrait, to ensure she is being treated with the utmost respect, that her dignity is being preserved, and that no physical harm is being dealt, as has been done in the past. 

 

SHOULD I LOSE THIS DUEL, THE FOLLOWING TERMS ARE AGREED:

 

I. I shall suck the big toe of you publicly, and for no longer than a Saint’s Minute, in the centre of Karosgrad. I shall journey there in nothing more than Prinzen Karl’s swimmers, on my hands and knees, from the gate of Karosgrad. Alongside this walk, blunt objects may be thrown at me.

 

II. I shall publicly apologise at a date, time, and location determined by you, Mikhail var Ruthern, for any insinuations or insults made during the duration of our acquaintance. In this same time, I shall kneel before you, and kiss your rings to swear my loyalty.

 

III. I shall take up steel for you, Mikhail var Ruthern, upon your request.

 

I expect to see you defend your honour in the Arena. I expect to see you cry in defeat upon your loss. I once had the power to love my love. But I have lost that power. And you have taken it. I want it back. I will take it. 

 

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SIGNED,

His Lordship, Markus Nikolai Morovar

"Boo!" cried out Borislav var Ruthern from the gates. "They won't stand a chance!"

IGN: Lickspittle

Character Name: Markus Morovar

Age: 16

Place of Residence / Street Address: Ghaestenwald

Position: Royal Alderman

 

 

~*~

A missive would hang from the noticeboards of Haense!

 

My fellow Haeseni! I, Markus Morovar, famous rappador of Haense, Attorney at Law, Detective, and Karosgrad's Last Line of Defense, hereby do declare my candidacy for the seat of the Royal Alderman.

 

Beautiful promises shall be made by my 'companions', as one has already decreed- but let's keep it real. Haense is for the Haeseni folk. Who knows it better than one who's lineage descends directly from Haeseni and Ruskan blood?

 

My missive shall remain briefer than most, as well as my promise- you, Haeseni, are whom elect me, and you, Haeseni, are whom I represent. Never shall I go against the Haeseni will; never shall I go against the Haeseni interest; never, shall I go, against Haense.

 

Krusae zwy Kongzem! Vote Mindfully! Vote Morovar!

 

A couple of 'I voted Mindfully! I voted Morovar!' papers would be pinned below the missive for the taking.

~*~

🥳🥳

20 hours ago, ᴜɴᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢʟʏ said:

[snip] long as they provide a valid point and aren't just "-1 lol" tier replies 

[snip]

-1 lol

"That's a whole lot of Red ink wasted!" noted a money-grubbing and illiterate Caelan de Joannes.

"We need more reliable news sources," says Meinrad Mackensen, as both sides claimed a victory.

On 1/25/2022 at 11:06 PM, Lionhz said:

A young Frederick Charles could be seen playing with his limited edition Philip III action figure and King Ulfric Frostbeard in the square of Providence, when he overheard his favorite Ferrymen Arsenios Mareno @Monkeeand Diome Indoren @Orlanthsay, "There is No basement in Stone tower." Soon after the young Princeling would mutter, "There is no basement in Stone tower.." As he'd smack the Ulfric Frostbeard action figure away.

@LionhzAn old senile Caelan de Joannes could be seen playing with his limited edition Leopold II action figure and King Ulfric Frostbeard in the square of Haverlock, when he overheard his favorite nephew Fredrick I @HogoBojo say, "There is No Orenians outside our gates." Soon after the old vegetable would mutter, "There is No Orenians outside our gates." As he'd smack the action figures together.

itdontmatta hates me (TRUE!)

"The fake Emperor is scared after my sick diss track I released. He's super scared," the Morovar child would reason with himself.

"Welcome, brother. Welcome home." A true man of the faith, Ionian Mackensen welcomed his former brother into the seven skies.

Jim Rowe... don't leave me here! JIM ROWE

In all seriousness, bless you GMRO for all your hard work <3

"KRUSAE! KRUSAE! KRUSAE!" Markus Morovar would chant inside Ghaestenwald, happy with slaying two wig-bearers.

[!] A letter is quickly crayonned back.

 

Tu da Traita Maric,

 

We will NOT com to ur little stupid place.

 

Insted, come to the Karensgrad playground, wen we say so.

We wil discus a seasefir 2 deal with da valewik rebles.

 

and we wil swap our prisners dere.

 

-Markus 'Champyun of Sergee'