SapphirePool

Lavanya, a woman hailing from the nation of Cresonia read the decree. "Inking of any kind?" she sent a letter then to her childhood friend, Princess Kareena. 'Your highness, it appears we shall not be able to partake in our traditions of Henna inking for the foreseeable future. I had hoped to set up a small business to bring the artform to this land, though it appears persecution would befall my clientele. How unfortunate' @MissToni

There is nuance to every incident. However, playing on LOTC is not a right, a necessity. It is a privilege and a luxury. If you do something unsavory, and because of it you get permanently banned, exactly how awful is that? It is not taking your food, shelter, means of survival. It is disallowing the use of this attempted safe space we all know and love called LOTC. Do we give people the benefit of the doubt whilst opening up this safe space for the potential of re-offense? If they do reoffend, it will only look bad on those who chose to give the second chance. lotc is not some need, necessity, giver of meaning. It is a roleplay minecraft server. that’s my opinion at least

Well, Ezren wasn’t the thinest man ever… he enjoyed lemon cake with his chunky son

[!] Above is a not so primitive rendering of the mans brother-in-law [!] Following the notice of the Prince-Consorts death, this pre-written missive was published throughout covenant lands [!] Hola, it is with a very heavy heart I am forced to write this missive. I am dead, and if you are reading this it is because my dear brother-in-law is still single at the time of my death. Thus, I must resort to a long ago method of matchmaking- the public missive. Since this technique worked so well for my Tio Casimir when I was but a boy, I shall stick to tried and true methods! And as his favorite brother-in-law, it is my duty to make sure he does not die alone. Without further ado, let me introduce the man, the myth, the legend himself! His name is Enrico Amadeus Novellen He is the Count of Abretta, and the youngest brother to Queen Sybille I (My lovely wife) He is melancholic, and maidenless I'm not that good a judge of looks, but I would say he is dashing He is very very VERY tenderhearted! He is shy, so feel free to make the first move! Please send any inquiries to Enrico personally. Also compliment his hair, just to break the ice. Any and all inquiries should NOT send a letter to yours truly, as I am dead. Ezren Elijah Novellen of Tuvia, Prince-Consort of Balian, Best brother-in-law

"Do you know, Son of Man, what makes a man great?" "Death" In the din of the darkness that began to engulf the prince-consort as his head was crushed under the force of the creature's grasp, a memory played softly from the depths of the man's mind. “¡Madre madre!” a young boy's voice called excitedly, his small hand pointing out towards the ocean “Look! What is that?” Callista, the boy's mother, bent down beside him, smiling “That is a Bellena, a Whale. They are the biggest fish in all the sea! “ Ezren, all of five years of age let out a gasp, his eyes glittering with wonder “A whale… I want to be a whale when I'm all grown.” “Why is that hijo?” His mother looked to him, likely expecting a childish answer, or no reason at all. The boy kept his gaze locked on the immense sea creature as he answered “If I'm that big, I'll be able to protect everyone I love!” The scene was swallowed by the darkness edging around his mind, the word love echoing like a deep chasm. The memory was replaced by a singular person. Sibyl The young girl who was pushed into a small creek by that same boy. The adolescent princess, standing behind Ezren as orcs attempted to rob the two teenagers. The young woman walking from the back of the church towards him, the most radiant smile on her face. The Queen who stood at the frontlines of war for her people. His only wish was for her safety and happiness. “MALCHEDIAEL, AENGUL OF COURAGE!” The phrase that once uttered, ushered in the final paragraph of Ezren Elijah Novellen's existence. It came to him naturally, like the warm embrace of a parent. He no longer felt pain, his wounds mended, and his body ablaze with the patrons burning aura. He fought once more, remade anew and stronger than before. It was for naught but to give time- time for aid to come to his loved one. And it came as the clanging of metal and crackle of fire pierced the engulfed building. John Galbraith and Gwenyth Vuiller entered the burning church, pulling at Sybille I as she fought to get past the gate. It was enough. "Goodbye, mi amor" Sorrow, Peace, Acceptance. Once the others came, the prince-consort fell once more a final time. The fight was finished, and a victor was had, and his soul was reclaimed by Malchediael. [!] These letters and will were written up at the news of the continuation of the war, and instructed to be dispersed to their intended recipients should the Prince-consort perish in battle. To Enrico @garentoft To Ephrem and Callista Kervallen @ECS1999 @Lmcfc To Ophelia @comatoseprincess To Elianos @Lirinya To Ariadne @_yink_ To Alexandros @Harald To Mi Amor @HIGH_FIRE The Will of Ezren Elijah Novellen of Tuvia To each of my children I divide my savings to 100 mina for each child. My remaining possessions, barring the sword “Splendes Ulmi” , be divided equally amongst my children. The sword “Splendes Ulmi” shall remain in the possession of my lawful wife, Sybille I, until a time when she feels fit or after she has passed, at which point it shall return to the Peer of Tuvia, whichever is in possession of the title at the time. If the peerage of Tuvia is disbanded, the sword will be passed onto Ezequiel Kervallen or his eldest offspring, eldest grandchild, and so on and so forth. [OOC Note]

MC Name: Sapphirepool Discord: Sapphirepool Image: https://imgur.com/a/2w1I4tf Description of Image: Queen Sybille I of Balian Dimensions: 2 wide, 3 high

The steady tap of a cane echoed behind Casimir as he entered the Vuiller keep, Persephone Maxima d'Atrus-Vilac slowly coming to a halt behind the embraced pair. Her face was stoney, marred by long ago scars and sightless eyes. She waited, perhaps in her old mind thinking that if she simply waited then the little girls voice would echo out, calling that she was alright and to not be sad. But just as her eyes saw nothing, her ears heard no voice of her great granddaughter. She turned to an attendant standing sentry off to the side "Tell Gwendel to get his armor" she rumbled, her voice deep with malice and hatred. @Harald Throughout the day, a great ruckus was made within the Vuiller keep. Initially servants hurrying too and fro, whispers passing between them. Then the clanging of armor as guards joined in a search for something. Rosemary Vuiller Senior had long ago stopped inquiring about the day to day pleasantries that occur around her. The eldest Vuiller sat in her quant room, patching holes in children's clothes. It had become her newest passion, since her great great great grandchildren started playing outside and snagging threads in shrubs. A deep, despairing baritone cry rang out down every hall, room, corner of the keep. Rosemary paused and looked down as a small dot of crimson pricked her finger where the needle had startled into her flesh. Mystified, she gazed at the small bubble grow before breaking its bounds and streaming a small path to drip onto the Childs dress she was mending. "Magda, what ungodly affair has occurred that such a cry is heard from my family?" She spoke softly, setting the garment down to look at the handmaid sitting diagonal to her. It took only a minute for Magda to inquire in the halls and come back with tears streaming her cheeks. "L-lady Marjorie", eeked from the maids lips as if a sin in itself to say. Many had passed to the seven sky's during her long arduous years, and the old woman had taken each passing with poise and sadness. But today she wailed, cursing the name of GOD and clutching the Childs dress to her frame as if an old friend. She prayed for her heart to finally give out from the years of endless streams of wills, death notices, and lost goodbyes. But it still beat, strong and relentless. And so Rosemary would continue to suffer.

Ezren Of Tuvia looked down at his blade as the scrape of the sharpening stone whisked across its gleaming moonstone surface. Methodical, almost in a trance did the sound flick off the stone. Finally he stopped, looking out across the fields which lay between the covenants encampment and the doorstep of Veletz. Lifting the sword up, he pointed the tip towards the fortress, looking down the shaft of the blade with one eye. “Soon. Soon they shall reap what they sowed for decades. It all began with Adria, and it shall end with Adria.” He lowered the sword, his face showing not glee but sadness. “May GOD show mercy on the innocents who made their home within these lands, for their lords folly shall soon reign blood. And may those lords see their errors in the seconds before death, and beg for forgiveness, so that perhaps their souls may still reach the seven skys”

Ezren glanced over the missive after sybille, a hefty sigh and shake of his head following. He opened his mouth to say something, though closed it soon after and just looked at Sybil, his face saying all that needs to be said.