Chrothic

A new batch of suspiciously hyperspecific propaganda posters show up alongside the old ones, adding even MORE clutter:

Following a slight change of events a NEW poster would show up plastered alongside the previous ones: At the same time, in a rickety wagon a man rode along, down all the same streets the posters had been plastered on, and handed out JonesCO(TM) Musicamagraph(TM) Machines which played the tune of the Official JonesCO(TM) Make Adria Great Again(TM) theme song

(Pictured: The Legion of Musin Monks who run the JonesCO(TM) Printaminator(TM) which printed these very propaganda pieces) "Posters, Propaganda, ACTION!" Yelled out a JonesCO(TM) Poster Placement Director as a small army of Musin rush to place countless posters around anywhere an Adrian currently lived Such posters as:

An aging but still admittedly quite eccentric Ben Jones leans back in his JonesCO(TM) reclining table and smiles as he reads the missive "That time again, is it? I shall make you proud grandpapa!" He says, pinning his family's old "VOTE ME" ribbon passed down from his grandfather on his shirt

[!] On the edge of a dim jungle cave somewhere on an isolated tropical island in the middle of the ocean, a very old man stands, his toga loosely draping down over his body, his century old glasses clung to his face, staring out at the sunset as he releases hundreds of posters into the wind. UNUM EXTREMUM EXPEDITIONEM [!] Somewhere else in the world, in the lively tavern of a great empire, the stories of this man’s life were told. His troubled upbringing, his rise to nobility, and fall to obscurity. His various cons and exploits, his adventures and expeditions into unknown lands for no particular reasons. They told of his love stories, his tragedies, and his victories. “I heard one time he got so drunk he married an old hag, only to leave and never speak to her again!” one man says, “I heard he stole an entire swan boat in the sacking of Providence!” “I heard he cheated the entire nation of Yong Ping out of a large swathe of property for a circus he NEVER BUILT!” “I heard he charged people a hundred mina just to say to eat only steak and lift inhuman weights!” “I heard he invented some gel which blocks aging, maybe that's how he’s lived so long!” Though some of these men had never met him, nor seen any of his products or the extent of his dealings, they spoke of him with such confidence that it didn't matter if what they said actually happened or not. He really did invent that gel. Though, it didn't stop aging, it was just a placebo. But maybe it wasn't just the gel he invented, maybe he had found the true source of immortality. A life so unreal, so imaginary at its core, that nobody would dare forget it. ULTIMUM ACTUM [!] Finally, a man stands over a grave, nestled behind an old ruined castle, emotionless and stoic in his stare. The headstone read: “BEN JONES II SON OF BEN JONES I EXPLORER EXTRAORDINAIRE BORN 1812 DIED 1932, AFTER 120 GLORIOUS YEARS “Glorious, my good man!”” In truth, the grave was empty, but it mattered not. For he had lived a life so glorious, it could not be contained in a single box upon death. “I pick up your adventure where you left off, utterly lost and aimless, but joyous.” Muttered the man “And I pick it up gladly, Grandfather.” And with that, the end of an era. Fin

Vibes/inspiration I used while writing this ^ I was bored, listened to some music, thought for a couple days, then was bored again and wrote this according to what I myself had been dreaming about. I write a lot, but this is one of the few stories I've written which actually seems real to me I guess. Posted cause @HeyitsNanosaid I should And there I stood, frozen and breathless, my eyes fixed on a single person sitting amongst the murmuring crowd, though she was surrounded by people who talked to her as if she were their closest friend, and she responded to every one of their words, in her eyes, tired and heavy, I could see a form of boredom, but of what? The lavish life she lived? The men attempting to sway her to their courtship? But from across the room, if only just for a moment, she returned my gaze. Immediately, I felt my heart drop, turning away and vanishing into the crowd. As I lay in bed that night, my mind continuously returned to that single moment from hour prior, where her initial beauty had me entranced on its own merit, the blue glow of her eyes told a story entirely separate from her face, not one of a princess in a ballroom, but one of a dreamer trapped in a cage. Past the tiredness, or boredom, was a mind which seemed to be constantly constructing scenarios of great adventure and danger. And as I drifted to sleep, though I do not remember clearly, I believe perhaps I shared in the never-ending adventures in my dreams, and perhaps for once she was not alone in her dreams, as I was not in mine. But with the rise of morning, and the passing of days and weeks, then months and years, I slowly began to forget the dream which I had experienced that night, as I fell into the everyday workings of aristocracy. One thing which I will never forget, however many dreams pass me by and fade into obscurity, is the dreamer, her eyes perplexing in their allure forever haunting me in the drifting seconds between being awake and asleep. I never did see her again. Perhaps she was simply a figment of my imagination, and all along I was the dreamer, alone in my own world. Or perhaps she finally found the way into her dreams, set free from her cage, finally able to rest and dream as her mind so desperately needed.

no no autographs 3rd greatest behind my 2 personas

Chrothic

how long have you been on lotc?

What made you start rping on lotc, and is it where you started mineman rp or was there another sever before it you played on?

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