MRCHENN

"For we live in a partial dream, we make do with our own interpretation of the lies within. For righteousness is only subject to perception of one, as is the sin of another, and this is the conception of duality. It glows as the etheral sun, pervading all thought and being, with its own myriad of fractals inward of duality. None except God and His instruments sees all." A priest comments within the shells of a temple within a great tower, repeating the imparted knowledge of the Arbiter's Third Eye. "For this contradiction established by duality: of struggle and discovery is what defines us, what defines ASIOTH."

TRIALS OF U M ’ E I Come forth and discern your greatness, scion of Qahnaarin. Embellish in your wake as a Harbinger of Revelry and Ruin - a Conciliator of Wardrom Nahl. My herald, you have already begun your longevity of the Auric path, yet, here marks the beginning of an arduous journey. Your patience will be tested, your vigilance will be noted, and your resoluteness must shine through. You will find yourself on the bridge of death’s gate itself, but I will always be watching. He is always keen on your fortitude. Only you can save yourself. Should you wish to elevate yourself, the Dark Horse of Qahnaarin, then so duly continue forward.. THE J O U R N E Y I. On the Dragaar Gather information on any three known dragaar, and write on them. You may seek the guidance and help of the dragonkin who are knowledgeable regarding this subject. The first is one known as Taynei'hiylu; begin with this. II. On the Firelands Bring your most loved one upon a journey to the Firelands, where Zahkriikyzer and I will await for you, in order to erect a shrine. This will be a final test of your loyalty, to protect one you hold dear as you traverse through the land’s unconquerable odds. Find warmth in its great fires. III. On Chivalry Once you become an Ordained, you will join the ranks beside me as an Inquisitor: one of the many leal positions of the Dragon Knights. Once you join its ranks, you must shepherd great authority to impose His influence in these realms as one of the most elite forces of the Titan. Yet, a knight is none without their oath of chivalry, glory, and service. Perform such an equitable and respectable task for a realm of ours that does not bend the knee to Xannic worshippers. If you are able to finish these, alert your liege to commence your final trial. The final advent of Ruin, as prophesied, will lead you to your purpose. Even if the Heavens fall, you must see this through.

i'm not asking you anything nice try

Simon Pruvia considers writing a best-seller that explains the psychological degradation as the entrapped husband of a princess who pretended to be a fake pirate.

Simon offers a keen eye to the missive, wishing to partake in these festivities. IGN: Chennster RP Name: Simon Pruvia

+1, i don’t think i’ve ever agreed to an insight post as much as this. oftentimes we see too much ostracizing and sudden change of character to various people in this situation. while we invest personal time into our characters and the community around us, we shouldn’t let it devolve into toxic machinations - its a spirit that can’t he encouraged on the server where people’s RP are fluid and want to have fun

The Lord Marshal grins from his office within the Esheveurd, at the return of the Virdian title of d'Aryn yore.

Vinzant Cardinal Buron casts his vote, beckoning the blessing of St. Jude.

He had not known despair until this very moment. He had shed tears for his mother, his sister - but he had not experienced so wrought of sorrow until that very night. "The path of ASIOTH is abstract." He remembered the words of Haskir upon the Great Northern mountaintop, icy words canvassing in his mind. "It is everything, but nothing. It is the most arduous journey of your life, but for reasons unkown." "You will experience despair and adversity, but you will revel in His joyous wake once you have found it." He knew all of this, but it did not matter. A grappling pain pierced his heart as he fell to the marble floor of Aaz Hahdrim, tears pooling beneath him. It was this despair that plagued him, hope fading within his own gaze. "Stop crying, you f****** vermin." The all-too familiar rasp of Eluitholnear rung within his mind, yet, the chasm was empty except for his presence. If he was alive in this very moment, he would reprimand Simon for losing hope - after all, this Dragonkin despised weaklings. As a former Drazimann soldier of the Fourth Brigade, he had read about the many pursuits of Sir Olivier and Sir Adrian, unbecoming of his surprise in meeting the Inquisitor-Eternal in flesh. He had looked up to him, almost more than his liege Antonius. Simon rose from the cold pews, a single campaign in his mind, as he knew what awaited him, penning a letter to his daughter in haste. In the chaos that ensued, his role of the Ordained became even more heavily apparent. He was no longer a mere priest of that night, he was an Inquisitor, mentor to others on their own path of the Auric. One singular verse echoed upon his prayer. "This too, shall pass."

Harsh lapses of wind ruffled the forests of a Southern mountain, as the glow of daybreak permeated the canopy. Within sat two shrouded figures surrounding a small fire, donning their own crimson plates in deep recourse of meditation. Soon enough, a small courier delivered this missive, interrupting their long penance. "The atrocities of these Jannists truly baffles me at times, Zahkriikyzer. Our very own Nephilim have rid this realm of this voidal disaster, and in turn, it has become a piece of propaganda. But, it is no matter. These Jannists will assume a mere weak confederacy at best. " Qahnaarin rose, dusting his garments as he collected his items. "Their forces will dwindle as they attempt to march upon us. There is no unmatched wrath than that of an awoken tiger, one that has been continuously pestered. St. Edmond of Lachsin will bless us and St. Humbert will fuel our campaign, Zeymah, as we slaughter them, their families, and their children. Their khesm will be admonished." He lent a hand to the Dragonkin, beckoning him forth. "Come, it is time to return home."

Ethereal curtains of sunrise dawned upon Provins, as the Viscount and his eldest, Philip Michael Pruvia, shared a cup of morning brew. @Valecius "My heir, see to it that you fully read the testimony of the life of the Princess Imperial; a legacy which has hitherto not been so profound as Her Highness's in the Imperial Courts. Despite our philosophical discrepancies, Her Highness was the amalgamation of courage - to inspire a movement when no one previously had the capability to. This is a trait shared within all of our greatest leaders and statesmen, just like Joseph Marna - you must remember this." The Foreign Minister continued, lazily beckoning his son to continue writing it down.

i still get these for free right

Danny Deltoids fangirls.

typical azog conspiracy +1

i was about to celebrate when i read the title

A SQUIRE’S LAMENT [!] A series of letters would be dispatched towards the following individuals. To Zahkriikyzer, @Milenkhov My liege - my eternal master. As much as you attempt to do so, your pain is ever apparent. Something is amiss. I urge you not to misrepresent my qualms, but you are a shell of yourself. Hitherto, you stood upon our realm as if it was your own. And now, you seem almost afraid to utilize the gifts granted by our Father. Stalwart by your determination, by no means are you any lesser of a Dragon Knight, however, you seem reluctant - a trend I have observed in all of our Firstborn. Something has occurred: one that you see fit not to tell me. In your shadows I operate, taking your creed as mine own. Forthright, I continue to walk upon my path of Asioth, to realize my cause! But, I stand here deterred. Lost. Without any of our Firstborn to guide me, what of my identity? It was you who instilled within me the cause of the Dragon Knight; you had promised me that our own two blades would suffice to protect our realm. And now you have left me alone, upon my own vices. Your blood and sacrifice flows within my marks. Without you, I am nothing. To Eluitholnear, @Werew0lf I’ve no idea if this missive will ever reach the likes of you, nor do you know of my name. Despite my circumstances, I can only lament that I hadn’t seen the light sooner and joined you, the Inquisitor-Eternal, by your side. Zahkriikyzer has told me tales and stories of your chivalry and honor, revelling in your prowess. My liege has told me of the sword you hold, and the momentous gravity it entails. I await your return and the fulfillment of your prophecy. Perhaps, one day, I will be able to taste only a figment of the fortitude you hold. We await your return, our Inquisitor. As our Firstborn deal with their perils, your guidance must move us onwards. To Haskir and Thalon, @Ryloth@_Sug My Zeymah. Growing up, I had no one to call my brother. Aside from my father who left our residence for great lengths, I’d no one to call as my own brotherly kin. As we fought alongside those evils of the Scorched, you both filled that emptiness of mine. Although I have not found my cause, my path of Asioth, you both have put me on the track to do so. Our Firstborn are suffering, yet for a reason I do not know. Naturally, a large responsibility has been placed upon us - to continue our worship of the Arch-Drakaar. As an Ordained, I’ve only a fickle amount of the experience you both hold. In these coming months, I will be relying on you upon my journey, my brothers. Signed, Your Faithful Squire

our savior has arrived

Very articulate rewrite! Adds intricate details to the features of Nephilim, and even includes more reasonable weaknesses to other magics, alongside the exhaustion table. Big +1

i'm afraid i have some bad news for you buddy

i can't believe you've all fallen for the hanrahan rep farm

From distance away, a scion of the Firstborn sat upon the mountains of the South. Eyes closed, his digits rest in his lap betwixt each other as he meditated. The scion had only heard stories and tales from his master of the Inquisitor-General, yet he admired him, as if he was his own. Muttering some words underneath his breath, flickers of ash and ember ripple as some semblance of heat did as well - distorting the air around him, a slow trickle of warmth upon his features. Staying there for some time, the herald concentrated, the news of the prophecy already reaching his ears. He would await the return of the Inquisitor.

JUDE Written by Vinzant Cardinal Buron, FSSCT A depiction of the first monastery of St. Jude. PRELUDE Ever since my ordination as a priest of the Canon under the Metropolitan of Providentia, I have been heavily engrossed in the histories and study of the Ruskan Orthodoxy - a practice ingrained in my own heritage, and a practice I intend to reflect as the Bishop of Buron. In my studies, I have found much substance on the namesake of our previous High Pontiff, the Ven. Jude II - that being St. Jude, the patron of monastics. St. Jude was widely known for his monastic endeavors - rejecting the cardinalship offered by High Pontiff Daniel I, in order to devote himself to scholarly work; the man was known for almost never leaving his monastery, and holding visits and confessions from royals and cardinals alike. This story details St. Jude’s monastic pledge, in hopes to educate our Canonist denizens on the meanings of his vows. A cold air greeted Jude as he entered the cold, stone hallway of the papal basilica of Ex. Sigismund. As he entered the foyer, the humble Bishop paced up the stairs, towards the pontifical meeting room, as he was faced with a small congregation. Seated in the foyer were priests and bishops alike - in the middle stood High Pontiff Daniel I. The tired man began to smile, as he paced forth - his eyebags weary amongst greeting Jude. “I’m glad that you’ve come, faithful Bishop. Please, be seated.” It was clear that Daniel I began to tire, his state somewhat jaded having only recently dealt with the Aesterwald schism. Motioning to an empty seat near Daniel I, Jude briefly took a step towards the round table. Taking his seat, his inquisitive eye glanced upon the congregation, curious as to the reason for this assembly. Opposite of him sat his formidable friend, Bishop Kristoff. To many, this same individual would posthumously become known as Saint Kristoff. He folded his palm together on the dias, looking towards the High Pontiff as he began to speak. “Through the Laurel of Our Exalted, Our Apolistic Right allows the bestowment of Cardinalship upon those who have contributed most esteemed service to our faith and dogma - to those who devoted their life to the teachings of God.” Daniel I pauses, surveying the congregation of priests and bishops alike. A moment of anticipation seems to hang over the room as the High Pontiff stops there, as he folds his arms behind his back. Slowly, but surely, his gaze turns to the Bishop Jude - Daniel’s fatigued eye setting its target upon him. “Bishop Jude, if you will.” With such a call seemingly out of the blue, Jude was somewhat taken aback - he cleared his throat, looking around in a moment of confusion. “Yes, you. Stand, Bishop Jude.” Daniel I stated once more, a small chuckle emanating from his figure. It was clear he found his reaction somewhat amusing. Jude stood up swiftly at his call, moving to stand next to the High Pontiff. His glance moved briefly to Bishop Kristoff - that man too chuckled, motioning him to affix his gaze back to Daniel I. “Your service has not gone unnoticed.” Daniel I began. “You have played an integral part in the maintenance and mending of Canonism. Naught a year has gone by, dear Jude, where you have not written scripture to educate the denizens of our faith. And naught a moment goes by where you are not preaching on the streets, or in your monastery. You weep and shed tears for those that have fallen from God’s grace. If anyone is deserving of an elevation to this position, it is you.” Daniel I enclosed his palms together at the table, a gratified look enveloping his countenance. “It is with Our Apolistic Right that We would elevate you to the position of Cardinal within the Canonist church - should you accept, correct?” Somewhat stunned, Jude stood there. Gazing upon the priests amongst them, they all seemed to nod along, satisfied with Daniel I’s affirmation. He sighed for a moment, as a previous decision of his had toyed within his mind for sometime now. Perhaps it was time to enact it. With a brief wave of his hand, he answered. “I’m afraid I cannot, Your Holiness.” “Well, why not, Bishop Jude? You clearly fit this position - you know this to be true yourself.” Remarked the High Pontiff, a vast expression of confusion apparent on his face. He looked around, as if some answer lurked in the shadow. Jude grasped his cross betwixt his fingers, bringing it to his lips. “Your Holiness, for some time now, I have been debating a decision within my own mind. But, the more that I think of it, the more I am resolute in deciding it as my next course of action.” He says, pausing, as he clears his throat. He had made a decision. “I will be taking up robes, Your Holiness. Not of a cardinal, but of an Abbot. It is hereby renounced.” Jude would finish his statement there. Yet another gasp could be heard from the congregation of the conclave, followed by a multitude of ongoing whispers. A decision that no one had predicted. Jude glanced at Kristoff briefly, noticing that the man had been taken aback, his mouth almost falling agape. For a moment, Daniel I looked upon the congregation meekly. Soon enough, the old man too stood, waving a flat palm to the congregation. “Silence.” He’d say, his expression still void of emotion. Whether he was sad, or simply merely confused, no one would tell. “Our dear Jude, if you are staunch in this decision of yours - as you are with most things, then We will not intervene. We are not sad, because Our dear Jude will continue his personal preaching of the faith. Rather, We are ecstatic, because We know this to be fact: that Jude will continue to excel, as he does at all things.” Daniel I paused, as his remarks settled in, before continuing. “Let all know of Jude’s ultimate sacrifice of worldly titles.” With that, the High Pontiff dismissed the congregation within the basilica of Ex. Sigismund. As Daniel I bid Jude his exit, all the priests would exit the pontifical room - save for the Bishop Kristoff. He walked forward, meeting Jude at the end of the table. “O’ Jude, harken my words, my dear friend. Will you let this humble Bishop offer his inquiry?” Kristoff spoke, looking to Jude in anticipation. At that, Jude looked upwards from the table, unaware of Kristoff’s presence. “O’ Kristoff. As to Evaristus - you are to me as Clement. Please.” His expression softened, as he motioned him to speak. “For what reason do you renounce His Holiness’s offer, Jude? Your humility shatters any semblance of pride I ever had, but I fail to understand.” Kristoff inquired. “My wishes, and my devotion lies within scholarly work, Bishop Kristoff, and not that of holding mass. The impact of my word can be better achieved through studying more, and preaching it on the street of our townsfolk. Not in good faith can I take up the mantle of Cardinalis, knowing that I, myself, cannot live up to the duties it entails.” Jude spoke somewhat passionately. “I wish to be a scholar, a writer, a teacher. I must avow all my worldly possessions to God.” With those remarks, Kristoff smiled. “Your words are reciprocated, my friend - but never will I have the same courage as you to do so. Generations will know of your sacrifice, and to not know the story of Jude is to be a fool. God smiles favorably upon His dear servant today.” With that, Bishop Kristoff dipped his head, as he too exited the conclave. Before he left the door, he turned for a brief moment, uttering a few words. “Thank you, my brother Jude.”

thats crazy but put me on tech team