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Palastartes

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    The Rot, The Melt

    in Human Realms & Culture

    Posted · Edited by Palastartes

    An unnamed fellow, a masked figurine, knowledgeable of much and yet entirely unaware as to the course of history for the foreseeable future, slaved over his bench of oaken wood. This was a fools errand, to predict the future, to understand the meanings and nonsense in between the lines of nonsensical ramblings, pictures and images deemed "Jokes" or perhaps just "Nonsense."

     

    Lantern doused, the man, a descriptor more physical than anything else, paused as he glanced toward the darkened skies, reflecting on the stars outside his home. It was so beautiful this time of year, when the snow covered the farmers fields and the men and women bustled about with their coats of fur and torches, to shield themselves from the nipping cold. Perhaps it was a fools errand, as he had thought but a moment ago. He should go to his wife, and sleep. Tend to his children once dawn was to rise, and forget all of it. Damn the letters, the notes, the declarations. It was pointless. It was all the ramblings of fools- and yet, was it only the ramblings of fools? Sure, it might just be nonsense, but there was something here.

     

    It was too coordinated. 

     

    The madness was too refined. It simply couldn't be.

     

    Thusly, he went back to his work. His pen etched itself upon the pages, these scrawled images and constant flow of words must have a deeper meaning, must have something more about them. The blood rain, the rot, the "Cleaning" as it was so thusly called. Perhaps it meant the end of the world. It must be so, mustn't it? The calling of an apocalypse, the saviors of this world, named something so trivial he hadn't bothered to remember it if only for assuming it to be nothing more than a joke. What was it again? Janitors? Jacks? It was something with a k, surely. In less than a moment, a murmur escaped his throat.

     

    "Never mind that Nescaff. . .pay it not a moment of your. . .precious. . . time. . ."

     

    Then, he simply paused. The pieces began to slide together, porcelain thoughts connecting into a vase of realization, if that was even a senisical term any longer. Perhaps all he had was madness, or perhaps what he was experiencing was more clarity than he had ever realized. This was a revelation. It was so clear- how could it not be?

     

    Yet, he paused in his thoughts, halting but a moment before the words slipped from his lips. He glanced leftwards, rightwards- and yet, found himself still alone. There was no-one here, surely. This was his study, in his republic, in his home. This was his safest place, within his deepest basement. Yet he felt it. The prickling of the hairs on his neck, the slimy feeling of breath on the back of his net, of eyes peering over his shoulder. The silence emanated, not a sound but the creak of the house settling- or steps above? It didn't matter. His hand reached out, grasping-

     

    "Long live the republic, you godless wretches."

     

    The lantern was shuttered.

    7

    THE JAMBODIAN PURGE OF ELYSIAN CRAVENS

    in Human Realms & Culture

    Posted · Edited by Palastartes

    The prideful Doge of Maltosse smiles as he pretends to read the message (He cannot read), before rallying his men (Definitely more than three) for another twenty-three hour march! The forest dwellers wouldn't see the dawn once he figured out which direction he was supposed to be marching!

    5

    Rise of the Dead RP (Join Now!)

    in Forum Roleplay

    Posted · Edited by Palastartes

    Within the town of Wolfeboro, a bunch of single and/or divorced men who like re-enacting the second world war would decide that they were going to band together, and stop re-enacting their dreams, instead enacting such dreams of Second World War United States Army Warfare, of making trenches, getting victories, and maybe, just maybe, getting a hold of a tank :)

    Group Name: The Sons of America

    Discord: ║█║▌║█║▌│║▌║▌█║#6409
    Starting Point allocation:
    Manpower = 2
    Supplies = 4
    Weapons = 4
    Starting Location: Somewhere around here, I hope

     

    1

    A new chapter for the Badlands

    in The Kingdom of Oren

    Posted

    1 minute ago, NotJcbeno said:

    Daniel stared across at his trusted knights around the meeting table at the centre of the outermost fort of his arch-duchy of Petia! The Screowl flag hanging high above their heads as they discussed this new news. Daniel himself stroking the head of his pet Ellie, a snowy Screowl as he spun absent minded like on his chair. “We need to increase our defences and increase our candy stocks! This is going to be a long war!”

    @Palastartes @MapleSunflower


    Katherina Tsecsar would of course, prepare as she had been asked to. However, the best defence is a good offense, and the dummy being absolutely Hammered  by her Wooden Broadsword as she trained surely agreed. It looked as if the game was about to become very fun. Hopefully, the war would never end. 

    5

    The Cowardice of Jacker Gendik

    in The Kingdom of Oren

    Posted

    "Good Godan this reeks of entitled brat." Aleksi Crowly would say to himself, amused by the missive. "I'd love to meet this Schewitt character, if only to see whether or nawt 'is stench of virgin is as strong as it appears." He'd mutter, chuckling to himself quietly, before using the paper to wipe away the grim upon his boots. "Couldn't 'ave so much courage as to court the girl 'imself, yet he wants to challenge Gendik to a duel, as if that'd make her love 'im- utterly pathetic." the man would finish, shaking his head as he went back to ceaselessly mining in the name of his Brigade. 

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