Pancho

+1 because you said my name :>

"Decisive Malinor Victory." retorts Prince Kosher Daesmon of Amaethea.

Based and Mick pilled

If you would like we can start with mine since apparently we aren’t allowed to think OOCly about cool arcs for characters and nations. I would be more than happy to share with the snowflakes and toxic shits on this thread.

…I’ve been getting back into HOI4 lately…

I wish you luck in returning and hope you can get into a cool roleplay niche :)

Based Joel take. Overall, Rukio has put what I feel into actual words instead of just emotions. Easy +1… now I await my eventual fate.

Sub tier response to dynamic roleplay in my opinion. Things can't be the same forever where it's an infinite cycle. Taking over communities is appealing as it adds a whole new dynamic to roleplay of civil wars, alliances, underground deals, etc. Actively trying to halt conflict and ensure that no one gets upset is making everyone upset. Congratulations on making yet another administrative decision that doesn't appeal to the majority of the players.

I personally may have my issues with Celia'nor and Twi sometimes, but this is too far. Banning a NL without explanation to the community they lead is completely unacceptable behavior from the staff team. Good that you finally are banning influential figures for wrongdoings, too bad you aren't giving the community insight on why it is being kept from them. #FreeTwi.

To the Grand Duchy of Balian On 5th of The Deep Cold, SA 84 It has come to my attention that I, Prince Kosher Daesmon of Amaethea, must remind you of what belongs to you and your lands- and consequently what belongs to me. The elf known as Jarad Munnel belongs to me and has belonged to me for quite some time, as he was made a Count and granted a vassal within Amaethea. I find it quite odd why you would not only strip a man of his titles and banish a man who no longer belongs to you- but who also abdicated his titles before departing. To my understanding, and you may have forgotten, but that is alright I will remind you presently. Abdication means one gives up an oath or a position of power, which to my understanding that Laurir Munnel did. I sincerly apologize that the lands of Amaethea prove to be more beneficial to the wellbeing of such a man as Laurir Munnel. Perhaps if you write enough, you can write up a better Empire than the one you fled. Just a thought, since it does seem as though you love to write nonsense about my denizens. All the Best, Prince-Royarch Kosher Daesmon, Prince of Malinor and Amaethea, Hand of Justice, Golden Tiger of the West

Love you man, hope that life will treat you well moving forward. (I would like to believe that list was in particular order :>)

Prince Kosher Daesmon smiles as he prepares the AFL for war.

The Amaethean Foreign Legion On 18th of Sun's Smile SA 84 With the degrading state of Almaris, combined with the deteriorated state of the Glaiveguard, I, Prince-Royarch Kosher Daesmon, find it absolutely necessary that in this age of Mercenaries and warriors to create an Auxiliary unit based off of the growing need of foreign fighters by the nations of the continent. Thus, with the power vested in me, by my position. I created the Amaethean Foreign Legion (AFL) as a subunit of the Glaive Guard and House Daesmon, directly reporting to thee, Prince Royarch of Amaethea. This will be cemented in perpetuity until another commander is vetted and trained in this position of power. The position in charge of the AFL will be named ceremoniously “Commandant.” The Commandant will hold the title of Lord within Amaethea for as long as the position is held. The ranks will be given as the following: Commandant The commanding officer of the Legion. They create the rules of the Legion under their supervision, in their time in the AFL, they hold ultimate authority over the Legion foreign forces, only such authority is surpassed by the Lord Commander and Prince-Royarch. Their task is to lead the armed forces, and devise plans and strategies amongst their own advisors and their colleagues, they are to listen however to the Lord Commander of the nations army, they are the driving force and the leading charge, anyone who holds this rank has expectations to meet and must directly report to the Prince Royarch and (or) Lord Commander =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Lieutenant The only position of middle command of the AFL. There can be up to 3 at any given time in the AFL, though it can be less depending on the size of the order at any given time. The task of Lieutenant has always been a change in history, given many cultures and national affairs within different nations, here however the Lieutenant is the overseer of those under him, the Commandant's most trusted advisors during battles, and the best of the best in the battlefield are also given this rank. Furthermore the task of the Lieutenant, is to assist the Commandant, and the other leaders including the Prince Royarch, in in field battle analysis alongside battle plans and training overseeing of former Knights. They would be what most consider the second in command. =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Knight Lowest rank of the official Legion. Those who have been awarded this rank are seasoned veterans, and have been inaugurated into AFL by the Commandant. These Are the Finest warriors that make up the larger number of the Legion, they’d be renown and widely known among their people. Upon given this rank, the duties of a Knight would be to assist the commadants in missions, as well as furthering the training of their squires and recruits. =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Squire This rank is given to those who have passed all requirements, and have exceeded the training. Upon being given this rank they will be a member of the Legion, but still have a long road ahead of them. They would be training under all the other higher official members, and would make up most of the Legion forces. =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Recruit. Members who have yet to prove themselves worthy to be joined into the ranks of the AFL, a trainee rank. They will be given many harsh and rough tasks, all which must be completed to the exact point. Upon failing these task, or the expectations of the higher ups, the Recruit undergoes an exam, if failed they will be removed from the AFL along being stripped of their rank beforehand. With this, the actions of the AFL do not reflect Amaethea even though they are an auxiliary unit. AFL contracts do not reflect the opinions of the state’s administration or their allies. Ceru’Na Amaethea Signed Kosher Daesmon- Prince of Amaethea and Malinor, Hand of Justice, Golden Tiger of the West

The Tiger of the West, hearing of this victory, solidifies his plans and marches north towards Karosgrad.

Lord Daesmon prepared to Parlay with his new bestie, the King of Haense.

Antonio ‘Alto’ the Patriot debates visiting Isabel to read more books.

The Bronze Lubba laughs as he wipes his dagger cleans of blood.

The Patriot readies his blade to battle alongside his boys once more!

Prince Kosher Daesmon shivers in his Timbers!

Alto the Patriot dislikes this law and will not follow it.

Prince Kosher Daesmon, Prince of Malinor and Amaethea would be at the forge, fixing the bent and crimson stained blade. A low tune could be heard between the clash of the hammer on iron. “On the road to victory the darkened rider rides! Up to the blades of the Horde, the elves went up the mountainside! Eight hundred of Malinor put down their blades and lives. Fourty nine hundred of the Horde lay bleeding and dead up there on the mountainside.”

Prince Kosher Daesmon of Amaethea, formerly the lands of Elvenesse would sigh as he looked to the Western Sea. “Thousands of dead Uruk and yet the Vale still doesn’t rally to the aid of their kind. Truly frightening how lost they are in their own world.”

Prince Kosher Daesmon, an accent enemy and ally of the aging Hyspian, would hear of her death from a courier as he sat on his throne. He Willy’s silently look into the empty hall, tears strolling down his face as he sobbed. “Yet another falls, the life of the Mali I suppose.”

From the heavens above, a traitor opens his arms for yet another of his kin, the gang almost back together where they had been torn apart so long ago.

A Prince’s Pondering [!] Artist depiction of Prince Kosher Daesmon writing down his ideas (Circa 81 S.A) =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= The Prince had been locked away for days in his tower overlooking the shining city of Caras y Tennellar. Hunched over, slaving away over writing decrees and plans to revive his civilization, only to crumple up and throw them to the side like the others. "Garbage." He spat, the piles of parchment laying discarded in the dusty corner. He had faced a dilemma, a challenge he had never had to face before in his over sixty years on the continent. He faced having to govern. The ambition to gain power had stemmed from his youth. After all, being the bastard of an ambitious lizard from the Hollow came with its perks and downsides. After spending a lifetime of being a bandit nobleman, a darkspawn turned knight of light, snaking his way through the politics of Almaris like a mole through tunnels. He put down the quill for a moment, the scratching of the quill on parchment subsiding as silence filled the room. He would quietly get up from his desk, rubbing his eyes as he looked about. The morning sun would blind him, his crimson locks, usually neat, would be rough and stuck together. His clothes would be wrinkled and filthy, though he hadn't left the confines of the study for days prior. He would sigh in relief as he stretched his legs, a yawn escaping the young 'ame as he blinked and adjusted to the brightness of dawn. “Perhaps I should take a walk.” As the Prince walked down from his study, he would glance at the throne that stood high above the seats of the citadel, the carpet below stained red from the blood of the men and women who had been executed there for years. Memories of family, friendship, and betrayal soaked there as a reminder of the hardships of stability. He would sit on the throne, looking at the murals on the walls as memories passed through his mind. For twenty years he had worked to sit on that throne, now that he had it there was no one left to rule. Next thing he knew, he was walking through the city, boots echoing with every step on the cobble as the streets lay bare, begging for any sort of life to come back. Streets once occupied by children, bakers, brave soldiers, artisans, smiths, even Templars of light, now succumbing to the graying of time. Reaching the end of the road to the stairs, he would stop in front of a manor on the cliff. His manor. Their manor. A single tear would roll down his face, thinking of how his wife and eldest daughter left suddenly without a single word to him. The Bastard, The Bandit, The Traitor, The Snake, The Soldier, The Prince. Kosher would sigh, realizing the futility of his situation. Anyone smarter, even him if he was, would've quit trying to help the dying city. He considered letting it rot, succumb to the tests of time. Yet, he shook his head like he had before, disgusted he even conceived the notion of doing so. None of that mattered to him, for the halls of his domain may lay empty and unoccupied for now, but the shining sea glimmering in the sun’s light was enough for the Prince as he climbed onto the sea wall. He stayed there for a long time, pondering the purpose of his existence and why he had chosen to come here with the goal to become Prince. He would look out to the sea, memories of his father nearly killing him in those very walls flooding to him as the sea called to his ears, the salty air reviving him. He had lost many friends in the very city he now led, blood staining the images of the beautiful realm within his mind. Then, it hit him… The beam of light struck him in the eyes, the Prince falling back and hitting his head on the pavement as he fell into the dream. Flashing lights, blood spurting, bodies littering the floor, the city he called home burning once more. He would be a helpless bystander as he saw this vision.. Not a vision, he thought. A Nightmare. Then, he saw himself explode into flames as he led a final charge, shuddering as he saw his soldiers retreat after getting the last survivors out. Then it rewinded. He would see himself burst into flames once more, but this time a beam of light striking the warrior prince as Kosher watched on, awestruck by the sight. He saw a being of pure light emerge, taller than the Prince, stronger, better than him. He watched as the warrior struck down the beings of dark, a merciless rampage ensuing as rage boiled in the being, only stopping after he had severed the life from every last one of the attackers that had harmed his people, his crown, his family. The being of pure light would turn to the young prince, the blinding light subsiding as for the first time the bystander could see who exactly emerged in his place. Kosher would gasp, not able to catch his breath as he saw Himself. As the Sea Prince would open his eyes, he’d wince in pain as he realized what happened. For a while, he would lay there looking at the stars that had risen in his deep slumber that had wasted an entire day’s opportunity. Long after the full moon had risen and lit up the whole city, he finally found the time to begin getting off the hard cobblestone street. He would sit up, reaching his hand up and touching the area of pain on his head. A searing pain would shoot through him as a sudden headache came about, forcing the Prince to halt his recovery in order to process the amount of pain he had been put through from a simple fall. Pulling his hand back, it would be slick with blood seeping through the scabs that had formed between his hairs. None of that mattered to him though, as one name echoed through his head. A name that sounded as though it were sent by the Aenguls to guide him. A word that gave him a reinvigorated hope for the future, and a final goal to attain in order to save not only his people, but maybe even the continent. The one word that rang out like a bell to him as he had seen the being of light, Raphael.