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About Sandman_Plays

  • Birthday 03/20/2001

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  • Character Name
    Caspian Colborn
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  1. Caspian would read the invite before smiling. "Of course Ill attend, what a pleasant feeling to be invited" He rushes off to find a suitible gift for the celebration
  2. THE CLEANSING OF WALTONBURG Through the eyes of Ser Caspian Colborn, Lord Marshal of Haense The streets of Haense filled with sounds of marching footsteps, twinned by a clattering of steel, the sound of lively shields, swords, and armour all butting together. Ser Caspian led the march towards the unsuspecting village in two files, prepared to undertake their mission. The brave company stepped forth into the quiet village before Ser Caspian began to initiate his orders. “Push forth to the foundry!” He bellowed, the soldiers circled around the men holding barrels filled with Carrion Black, they pushed through the docile village in the dead of night before arriving in front of the Foundry’s entrance. Marus Weiss planted his barrels around the outside of the building, while Siegmund Weiss placed his own barrels within. Finally, Sergeant Yuri Ostrov rolled his final barrel into the pre-heated chimney and causing a chain reaction, which unleashed a massive explosion. Windows shattered giving the men of the Brotherhood little time to escape, regardless they managed to dive down and watch the Foundry burn and melt at the seams. A lone voice shrieked out cutting through the loud noise of crackling embers from the engulfing flames, before a spectral figure appeared in front Armiger Asif Thorsen. The ethereal being was eventually scared off by Sergeant Tatiyana Ruthern. As the Foundry burned the Brothers and Sisters marched upon Waltonburg, ripping every door from its hinges, and removing all that still remained. Their goal was to cleanse the village of the recent outbreak of dark magic and evil doers. Sounds of snapping wooden doors and the breaking of windows could be heard late into the day as the Brotherhood continued the work ordered by the Koeng Ivan VIII. As their mission concluded, only a husk of what was once a powerful forge is left a smouldering wreck, a testament of a time that will not be remembered. THE MISSION SUCCESSFUL AND WALTONBURG CLEANSED. THE BROTHERHOOD RETURNED TO NEW VALDEV TO RELISH IN THEIR VICTORY.
  3. Ser Caspian smiles at reading the news of the fundraiser and begins to prepare a speech, one of community, brotherhood and strength in unity between his brothers and sisters, the man truly proud of how far they had come in recent months. "This night is for you brothers and sisters, enjoy it relish in your victories and know that whilst I hold the reins of marshalship there wont be a moment I do not push for better for you all" The Marshal ushers men to start drawing out the brotherhood stores of booze and food, to help prepare for the grand feast hosted by the Gracious Lady Maer.
  4. Not one for taking all the credit Caspian had mentioned that serving Haense was its own reward, nonetheless an award had been placed in his lap, he was taken aback by it all and humbly accepted, though he was aware his brothers had aided in such, in fact the Royal Captain had decided to make something of a feast in honour of those whom had saved Yuri, at the tavern keeps expense! "I only live to serve" Is all he had replied to the Edict upon reading it. Ser Caspian would trudge off to continue his duties, with a slight smile brewing on his visage of such a gracious act, though one he knew he could not take full credit for, and had no intention of doing such.
  5. Caspian Layland had finished his toils within the fields, Deeming it only fitting to donate the fruits of such labours to those in need, the man had survived his trails, and infact had found himself truly intertwined with his faith, Ready to continue his work, though now with a larger perspective, he delivers the bread into the Colborns vast stores, he knew it was time to return to Haense, Reclaiming his Armor and his title of Ser he prepares for his largest battle, one that would shake his very soul to its core, nonetheless the man was steadfast in his resolve. "A Kind and Pious life is the one I choose, A defender of the faith is what I am, till my last day" The words echoing throughout the young knights mind, as he travelled back to Haense.
  6. -=Call to Arms=- As the birds flew from the towers of Karosgrad, calling upon the Crown’s most loyal followers, one found its way to a small farmstead just south of the city. A young Gwaine Porter, son of the renowned Ser Jackson ‘the Resolute’ Porter picked up the note, sealed with the wax sigil of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. The man cracked open the sealed note and began to read its contents. After reading the troubling news he sighed, looking over to his father’s claymore hung upon the wall, before nodding slowly. “Bound by duty.” He mumbled whilst walking over to the feared blade, knowing of what he must do. He meandered outside his cozy homestead gifted to him by the Koeng himself, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving a Barclay branded cigarette, and placed it upon his lips before lighting it from a small match. He exhaled a plume of smoke into the cold air and looked across the water, watching the ceaseless waves lap against the snowy shore. Before long, he finished his final comfort, stamped out the flames of the tobacco into the soil, and made his way to the storeroom. He dusted off his black-and-gold-trimmed Haeseni mail, and began the march through the snow-capped woods as the sun drew long, and cast his stretching shadow across the ground. As he walked, as the wind whistled through the pine trees, he heard his father’s voice in the back of his head. “A Porter will always heed the call.” “A Porter will fight to his last breath.” “A Porter will honor his vows.” “A Porter's sword is always pledged to the Royalty of Haense.” As the thoughts rattled in his mind, he pondered whether he could even begin to live up to his father’s name and legacy, the sheer noble deeds of his father before him only making Gwaine's path more prestigious to follow. As he approached the gate, a guard flagged him to a halt. “Who goes there, friend or foe, nation and affiliations!” The man bellowed coated in Haeseni Armor. “Gwaine Porter, son of Ser Jackson Porter the Resolute!” Gwaine would reply confident his answer may grant him access to the city. With a slight awkward shuffle the Guardsmen recognised the name, House Porter. He raised the gates. “The Koeng awaits you, friend.” He mentions as Gwaine wanders past, the dark streets begin to light up with the cracking of dawn, the cold air still enveloping the land around him. Gwaine found himself in a form of nostalgia as he walked the ancient streets of Haense, as his father once had, walking toward the grand palace, nodding to the Guardsmen upon entry. He would follow the route that he had always known straight to the Koeng’s office. “My Koeng.” He spoke calmly to the man before him, The Koeng stood over a table dotted with locations and strategic positions. He looked up slowly. “Gwaine, I am glad you are here… Let’s get to work.” The door slowly closed behind the pair as they began to plot, the crows caw at the breaking of warmth in the weather, and Gwaine as his father had before him, answered the call to arms; for the rights of Haense, and her people, fearless at the utmost possibility that he would meet his end.
  7. LUDOVAR RESTORED Tov y Yermey, 386 ES Those around the keep of Otistadt and the Kingdom of Haense would receive a flurry of invitations, in the form of flyers, detailing a grand party in the noble Ludovar keep where everyone was invited. The contents would read as followed… “Tell all of the up and commence of House Ludovar, Some may have thought we were done but that is niet the case, we have been working hard over the last year for this day, and we would like to share it with you below are specific invites though all will be allowed within the keeps walls upon the day. “The celebration will be one regarding the Expansion of House Ludovar and the Return of Lord Roberts Brother, Lord Aleksey. Within such, we have founded many new enterprises and even a charity, this will be a catalyst for a new GOLDEN AGE for House Ludovar!” The flyer would go on, mentioning plentiful fine wine and food available to the guests, along with jovial music to dance to. Not only that, but a final duel would commence, crowning a Champion for the entertainment of the noble lords and ladies in attendance. In the name of charity - any and all spare drink and food will be donated to the poor and homeless of the city. Any charitable donation throughout the night would be appreciated, and invested in further upcoming plans of the organisation. At the base of the flyer, a list was attached, naming the current businesses falling under the Ludovar Company. The Royal Ludovar Company Ludovar Luxuries Ludovar Securities Safe Storage The Ludovar Foundation Invitations were sent, but not limited to: His Royal Majesty, Heinrik II Barbanov, King of Hanseti-Ruska and his pedigree @Rudi His Grace, Erich Barclay, Duke of Reinmar and his noble pedigree @DeadGuyMatt His Grace, Ailred var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus and his pedigree @biggestdon His Grace, Ruslan Baruch, Duke of Valwyck and his pedigree @Sarmadon The Honorable, Isaac Amador, Viscount of Aurveldt and his pedigree @Pureimp10 His Lordship, Yvo Mondblume, Baron of Richtenburg and his pedigree @Limo_man His Royal Highness, Franz Morovar, Baron of Ghaestenwald and his pedigree @Gusano His Lordship, Stefan Vyronov, Baron of Astfield and his pedigree @Wolfey34 The Honorable, Jan Kortrevich, County of Jerovitz and his pedigree @Luminaire His Serene Highness, Leopold de Joannes, Prince of Sedan and his noble pedigree @yopplwasupxxx SIGNED, His Lordship, Aleksey Ludovar, Founder of The Ludovar Foundation OOC- This Event will be held on Wednesday! the 18th of August at 4pm EST, Feel free to show up and Support your favourite Charity and enjoy the duel. All those who wish to Join the Duel Send me a message to win a purse of 100 mina and be crowned the Champion of Otistadt.
  8. ♜ Discord:Sandman#4951 ♜ Skin Name(s) with Skinner’s name: Sir knight the Bear, (Biggest don) ♜ Bid(s): $8
  9. A LUCKY RETURN Lord Aleksey Luka Ludovar Gronna and Droba 385 E.S. As Aleksey would arrive to the place in which he had called home, the landscape would be covered in a thick velvet black, with a glance to the sky the Man could determine that it was around 3 in the morning, as the stars passed over head, he was truthfully exhausted having left Haense in search of himself, he had found quite the adventure across Almaris. The time spent away had aged him not just physically but mentally, the 12 years spent away from his home, his family allowed him to mature greatly, his dark green eyes scanned the landscape as the frozen northern winds continued to whistle against his jacket, gently lapping against his exposed skin, causing his hair to stand on ends, the faint glow of the first gates of Haense coming into view, narrowly lit by the torches that laid within the wall braziers. He urged his steed onward towards the gates, noting quickly that the ground had gone from rough stone to more polished and worn cobble, within the space of a few steps a welcoming noise to his ears, as he approached the guards who stood ever vigilant he would slow himself down to a halt nodding to the men, he wondered what they must have thought seeing this random man in battered and ruined armor bearing no house colours and covered in dirt, though he himself too tired to care, his only distinguishing feature was the cape he wore, despite its tattered look it still beared a clear Ludovar House crest. “Name, Where you’re from, Allegiance, Purpose of visit” Was announced by a clearly tired guard, to which came a very grateful reply “Lord Aleksey Luka Ludovar, Kingdom of Haense, Aligned to the family Ludovar and my purpose of visit…” He thinks for a moment before creaking a light smile “Returning home” The guards upon the gate reared upon hearing the name, No one had seen the “Lucky” lord in over twelve years, so as responsible men they brought the torch closer to the mans face, reveal a much aged Aleksey, his patch on his arm confirming such “Welcome home Lord Ludovar” They smiled as he passed throughout the gate making his way towards the main street. A tear built within his eye as he looked over the City in which he had grown up, he was Home. After a long deepend sleep, The lord Ludovar awoke within the Tavern located in the center of Haense, he found fresh clothes laid upon his bed including a letter bearing the official house Ludovar symbol with a simple crack it read “Kazstadt” Upon reading it he knew what it meant, with a slight sigh and a quick wash he changed and set off toward his family Keep. “Father, Brother” He nodded to them both before glancing around the keep “It seems… quiet?” With no words of welcome the men of the House informed him of the recent event within Haense as well as the troubles that had occurred within Ludovar itself, Appears Aleksey has a lot of work to do….
  10. Jackson Porter b. 323 ES | d. 372 ES The Rimeveld Jackson was undisputedly tired, for the last few years barely a day went by when he wasn’t battling the elements of the Rimeveld, whether it was the cold sweeping winds, that felt as if pure ice had settled beneath your skin, or the beasts that prowl the deep cold tundra, and yet here he was still enduring the seemingly tortured existence, that had been so gratefully bestowed upon him, his sharp blue eyes stared out into the snow white landscape the woods that surround him hiding the majority of anything in its dark clutches, however with his traps painfully empty, the old Lieutenant of Haense simply marches upward back to his basecamp atop a painfully steep incline, and opts to rest for the evening. However as the saying goes there is no rest for the wicked, the man sits, toes pointing toward an orange hue the flames licking at his stabbatons, the stars above seem to watch the ever Resolute Jackson Porter, his trusty blade made for him by the Ever present father figure in his life Ser Zoddric Calliban, rests by his side sheathed, it's only recent glory was slaying a bear or two, He hums as he watches the sky darken over head, and from his glacial isolation Jackson would wait, the last words of the man he had done so much to save Friedrich barclay Rattling from within his conscious tomb, a great sadness falling over him once again, “I miss my home” He would utter glumly as a fall of light snow would begin to fall from the sky to which the only answer Jackson had was to throw his large bear cloak over his chest, taking a deep sigh he wasn’t entirely sure this could be any worse. As the night began to fall in atop the snow tipped peak of Jackson’s eternal concealment he hears the soft lull of the wind and the occasional howl of the wolves that roam the deep woods below and yet he slumbers reasonably sound, his dreams entirely revolving around his fiance, and how he had slipped away, grabbing only his essentials before making his move into the Rimeveld, knowing he hadn’t got long he broke away from Haense with haste, desperate to not answer any further awkward questions and perhaps be forced into more uncomfortable situations as the one that had forced his hand had been. Within two weeks he had found himself in his now aforementioned camp, and years had passed since his abrupt departure, but yet there was not a day he did not think of her, with that notion in his mind it stuck like a brand to naked flesh, the man could never forget, he jolts up suddenly. Jackson would awake to the sound of all hell fire erupting around him, staring out into the crisp white landscape still mostly veiled by the velvet darkness of night, he would see what appeared to be torches, and the booming echoes of combat harrowing up the mountain side he eyes the scene though due to the distance and the darkness he could only make out in a squint, grabbing his blade he stamps out the remnants of his fire crushing the embers beneath his boot, before moving alongside the outskirt of his mountain abode, trekking down slowly but carefully as to not reveal himself, his greatest fear was that his failure had not been forgotten and now the consequences came for him, so with that thought placed firmly he would set forth down the slope. As he approaches the rather interesting scene, he would see around fifteen HRA men, sieging a defended position against the troll menace, though it seemed they had come under heavy fire and in fact taking a severe beating, Jackson ponders a moment holding the sheathed claymore as he watches the onslaught continue for a few moments, before taking a deep breath allowing the cool mist like Rimeveld air pass from his lungs, he waits for a prime moment to begin his plan, watching the lord marshal bellow his orders to those gathered as they continued to struggle against the heavily armed troll position. After the momentary silence, Jackson would stand taking a mighty deep breath raising a Haeseni War Horn to his mouth, a gift from Friedrich Barclay months before he had left, and blowing hard to create a deep rumbling sound of war, from the mountainside the natural echo of the sheltered cave only amplifying the sound into a vicious roar, the whole field would hear as Jackson lept from his position drawing the Claymore Corvus Albus and charging towards the trolls whom had managed to corner the Lord marshal of Haense, Jackson Crashed into their lines swinging his blade with every ounce of Ferocity the old Lieutenant had, slashing across limbs the man fought bravely his only task to make his way to the Lord marshal, his oldest friend. Crashing through the line, he faced off amongst the infinitely more powerful troll group the only thing standing between the lord marshal and certain death. As the dance of death intensifies, the Resolute would be faced with a deadly ultimatum he found himself picked up by a troll, tightly in its grip, its war hammer cocked back ready to near enough wipe him from the lands of Almaris, his only solace was his blade was still free, so as the beast moved to slam him with the force of 10 men, Jackson rammed his blade downward meeting the trolls shoulder, slipping between the bones and deep into the chest cavity, eventually meeting its mark, at the beating heart of the enraged being, the victory was short lived however, as the piercing blow felt from the back end of the hammer was felt rupturing through his chest and armour, deep into his organs, Jackson’s eyes fell wide as he slipped from the trolls grip, his blood like so many times before staining the cold snow below him, though it seemed that this time, was the last time, the damage irreparable. Jackson would lay there, coughing weakly as his life force drains from him, the warm crimson ichor snaking rivers and trenches into the cold snow below, his eyes setting upon the sky above him as the dark velvet night had slowly transpired into dawn, the bright golden hue shone over the highland peaks however the valley in which they found themselves in became illuminated, the trolls around lay dead the HRA stood Unbroken in the dawn of the light the brotherhood having survived another costly ordeal, and yet Jackson found himself lying there, unable to express the joy the others had found, instead he knew that within a few moments his soul would leave his mortal coil, and his faith in Godan would be tested, the only solace was that of the sun, its warm light seemed to embrace Jackson’s body for the first time in years, he was not cold and it was bliss. A unison of howls emerged front the untamed forests of the Rimeveld, the day was won, the true cost no one would know but as Jackson found his own peace Friedrich would approach, Jackson would stare at him before beckoning him closer whispering into his ear, the exact details are unknown though it is told that he recited his Othaman’s oath, and gave Friedrich his final will and testament. The man's slow death was painful yet a slight relief of the burden of his rather interesting existence, he closed his eyes for his final time, as his soul dispersed from his body, leaving the mortal essence left, and thus ended Jackson’s final battle. His final debt to the Lord marshal repaid, in blood, Jackson’s name respectfully restored into the kind thoughts in people's minds, from the eighteen year old boy who had wandered into Haense to escape his boring life, to the twenty year old serving upon the front lines of the Inferi war, to the thirty year old who had spent his time protecting kings, and pontiffs and now the fifty year old, who had died where he belonged, alongside his brothers in arms, despite rescinding his oath he had always been a true Haeseni and now laid to rest in Haense land. Memoriae At a young age it was clear to Jackson that he was destined to be a little more than the oversized farm boy abused by his parents, and from his tragic beginning he transformed into someone of notability and stature, the man practised his craft, and in his time saw two kings, two pontiffs and two Lord marshals, serving each in his own distinction, He had loved, he had lost but most importantly he had found his true self, Jackson Porter goes down into Memory, though with any luck his legacy survives. Upon the heated battle field of the inferi war, Jackson Found himself side by side by the first Lord Marshal of Haeseni Ruska, Lord Manfred Barclay, Jackson had fought bravely and as per usual the HRA had won the day, but as a brutally heated clash came to fruition Jackson Saw a spear heading straight for the Honorable lord, and instinctively threw himself into harm's way to protect the man, which in its own right had saved him, before dragging him back before the medics to be helped, he returned moments later to engage once again upon the field. This act earned him two medals, One being the Queens cross gifted to him by the Queen, Isabel Barbonov, a woman who unfortunately for Jackson only spelled trouble for his future, and also the Infernal scourge medal, presented to all those whom had put their lives on the line to hold back the demonic tides. As Jackson Progressed through his time with the HRA there came a moment after his oath hunt in which he had to make the choice of what regiment he was destined to join, in the end he picked the Rangers guild led by none other then Ozark Mondblume, whom quickly took Jackson under his wing as he realised his own potential, for the first time in his Life Jackson felt as if he belonged a smile would emerge and stay for most of the man's youth, a vibrant happy smile, one of a completed person. He rose to infamy within the Guild of Bounty hunters which resided outside of haense, Jackson leading the group on many assaults against the seemingly never ending enemy, here he met his lifelong friend Fyodor Erhdhart although they didn’t always see eye to eye, the care these two placed within one another was astounding, as when the slum dwellers looked to Jackson to lead them for a final assault against those who wished to do them harm, Jackson had no choice but to answer the call, the man knowing full well he was their last and only hope, he led the group of unarmed untrained slum dwellers against a well equipped and well provisioned stack of men and by the luck of Godan above Jackson and his men, won the day, at the expense of many, though nonetheless a victory was a victory. His new found confidence saw him skyrocket within the HRA as he continuously showed his value in trainings and leading, in fact it became apparent that the men that surrounded him had grown a fond respect for him, his brothers in arms, some notable ones were Friedrich Barclay, Ellisar Aevaris, Fionn Castaway and of course William Carolus, the bond between these men emanating to this very day, this showed to his most profound achievement, Becoming a Lieutenant within the HRA, Jackson was working side by side the Lord marshal as his second in command. Jackson earned himself a holy medal, in quite the extraordinary fashion, as the City of Haense welcomed the newly elected Pontiff within her walls, they had come to realise this pontiff was not so well liked throughout the lands of Almaris, in fact so much so that the HRA was on a full standby for riots and assassins, and after returning from an intensive situation the HRA were armed with batons and riot gear by the current lord marshal Manfred Barclay, and took up positions over the church to defend from all manners of evils, Jackson found himself as he always did on roof duty, which up until this point had been quite the boring set up, however when Jackson rounded the corner to find an assassin attempting to murder the pontiff from the window his reactions kicked in, Jackson went toe to toe with the man, fighting with him until he had managed to subdue him with a small help from none other then the young Stefan Vyronov, and act that still had impressed the middle aged man to the day he passed. He was awarded a medal for his efforts from the High pontiff himself, though notably a few years later when a new one was elected Jackson handed the medal back to the High pontiff saying that he did not feel like he had earned the right to wear such a thing as things about the man who had given him the medal began to surface. Jackson was offered a knighthood for his service to Haense and Almaris, something he had longed for, and yet in the end was unable to claim, he had always felt a desperate urge to make a name for himself and to bring the wreckage that was the Porter name up into value and legacy, perhaps he did manage it in his own way though only time will tell, either way, he passed through his trials with relative ease, taking on a dire boar for Norland, even a wyvern for the Druids and still continued in his duties, to the Koeng and to Godan he found himself at his last trial before the Late Isabel Barbanov at this time the queen mother as well as Princess Juliya found themselves placed seconds from death as a suicide bomber entered Haense, within an instant Jackson had flung himself before the royalty of haense taking much of the blast to his back, littering his flesh with yet more scars, his blood stained into the Crow in the center of the city forever, for such a deed he was awarded a free pass on his trials, deeming him to be a man worthy of Knighthood. Yet just a few days before his oathing, He pulled out, advised by the Koeng himself to do so, as to provide himself once more to service in Haense, though that service can never be spoken off, and though he will never utter the words again one could likely decipher that what the Koeng had Asked Jackson Porter to do was at the utmost importance.
  11. "I'm Living rent free in you're head Rukio" -Sandman 2021

  12. "Wake up in the morning I got rukio on my mind" - sandman 2021

  13. [!] A Young Aleksey Ludovar would hear of the great Koengs Speech, and nod approvingly "Da, It is good he looks after those of the church, especially in times of great peril..." After a brief moment he would continue on his journey to the Lord Palatine's office.
  14. [!] The young Aleksey Luka Ludovar, Smiles at this "Da, Finally being held accountable... Lucky after that Amador Dog He was next on the list, I hope the marshal will bag and drag him if he doesn't by Godan Ill help him drag him myself" With a slight Gleeful smile he saunters off the the Marshals office to help compile a report alongside him
  15. .Formal declaration of a challenge. I, Aleksey Luka Ludovar, hereby challenge the Amador Dog Ramdir, to a duel of which tests our mettle and our honour, you have disrupted my families livelihood, and escaped punishment though I will remind you as Haense has appeared to have forgotten, Ludovar’s never forget. When you sat by idly like the mouse of a man you are, you left us to die in the Godan forsaken cave, had you have any inclination of being truly worthy of a noble title you would have stood and protected our right to exist and yet, you stood there and watched as they buried us under the mountain. Due to this insult you caused my family great harm, my Aunt now must use forged legs as her own were destroyed by the sheer cold, so in kind, I will be taking your life in avengement, I promised you in the tavern moments after I was released that I would end your bloodline, I intend to keep my word, unlike yourself whom broke it at the first sign of any resistance you cowardly dog. So in this open letter I leave it to you, Ramdir Amador, face me in single combat, blades only or forever be known as a cowardly worm, and bring shame upon your noble name for eternity, I shall give you three saints days to answer the call. -Signed Aleksey Luka Ludovar
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