Jump to content

AmazingAzura

Gold VIP
  • Posts

    36
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Reputation

212 Brilliant

Contact Methods

  • Minecraft Username
    AzuraTheTranquil

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. Sigmar Mondblume had sat there, talking to his mother and sister. He laughed between the three, the current conversation being the best alcoholic drink. The Baron's eyes gazed down from the seven skies, "Of courze ea am." He simply smiled, before taking a sip out of the carrion in his right hand.
  2. Through a Soldier's Eyes Doomsday The haeseni people had flourished out of their houses. Chants echoed past the city walls and clamoring reached a young soldier’s ears. Through a glass paned window, a Haeseni oathedman peered at the bustling market of Karosgrad. “EA SAY FER, DU SAY SAVOY.” A voice said through the crowd of soldiers, women, and men. The oathedman looked to the newly installed shops of Karosgrad. There, a large rally of around one hundred and fifty soldiers of Sedan raised their fists as they gathered around the Prince Lucien of Savoy. Throughout the square, roars and shouts shivered the market carts. “KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM!” The soldiers said about their cheers. As the allies shouted about, the oatheman’s brain had finally been rattled, “The day had come to defend…” – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Among the Battlefield Arrows soared through the bright blue sky across Eastfleet. The overwhelming projectiles from the Tripartite Coalition swarmed the Imperial Army. The oathedman strung back his bow, shooting high across the battlefield where his ferrum-tipped arrows struck down the unfortunate Orenians. Upon the command of Grigori Vyronov, Durorn Ireheart, Grand King Bakir Ireheart, and Prince Lucien, the forces of the Coalition charged forth towards South Bridge. Among the rally, the Haeseni oathedman charged forward with sword in hand. His blade clashed forth onto the Imperial soldiers, slicing across the plated army. His brothers of the Coalition violently cut down the numbers whilst the Imperial forces fought back with all their might. The Haeseni soldier looked to his plated feet. His visor gazed down at the bloodied, cold, and solemn bodies of men and women who fought bravely for their nation. “WE ARE WINNING!” Grand King Bakir Ireheart shouted across the battlefield. The oathedman looked aloft, his eyes gazed across Eastfleet. It was true, the Orenian forces had been further cut down, their bodies lying cold on the soil. “FINISH THEM OFF!” Bakir shouted once again. At that, roars echoed across the allied forces of the Tripiarte Coalition. Their blades pierced through the Orenians at a rapid pace while the oathedman grew a smile. It didn’t take long until the Imperial rally had been reduced to only those who played dead inside the corpses. That day, the Coalition had defended their land. At that, the oathedman roared in triumph. “The imperials are dead, we claim victory!” – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A Day of Celebration “KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM!” The drunken oathedman said. There he sat in the tavern sharing drinks with his brotherhood. Cheers roared through the Capital City of Karosgrad, “To the palace!” A noble called to those in the market. “The koeng has a speech!” A joyful crowd rushed into the palace, attempting to find a seat in the throne room. Barely did the oathedman listen to the Koeng, all he knew was that day was a day of victory for the Coalition. With a starting rally of 18,200 for the Coalition and 11,700 for the Imperial Army, the Imperials managed to survive with only 100 left alive. Truly a victory for the forces of the Tripiarte. “This is one of many victories we will claim!” The oathedman raised a fist, the rest following the motion shortly after. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – .
  3. Haldir gave a grin to the missive, "A good agreement." He said, blood dripping from his ferrum sword which formed a dark red puddle before the dark elf. "It's true, the ferryman never have a true side. Either way, a pact is a pact." The sword swung up to rest on his shoulders with blood splattering those behind him.
  4. “This day forward” A resemblance of the gallows in New Providence The clashing of Petra echoed across the miles of the South. Sigmar pulled his blade, slashing it across many Orenians at the bloody Battle of South Bridge. Oren’s navy arrived with pounding cannons. Even against the pressure, the Lord followed his Field Marshal, Ailred var Ruthern. @mkLouis The siege against the land continued. Buildings crumbled, sinks plummeted to the ocean floor, and death was climbing onto every single soldier fighting. Sigmar admired his Field Marshal. He envied his strength, his family, his leadership. Since he was a child, Ser Ailred var Ruthern inspired him to do greater things. Yet, in a moment, in a blink, in a second, Ailred plummeted to the ground in front of him. An arrow shot by an Orenian had killed the only man Sigmar Mondblume aspired to be. The Baron’s body froze, his charge had abruptly halted on the Orenian soil. Ailred’s body piled against the countless amount of soldiers. Sigmar’s mind went dark and his thoughts had cleared. Why? What are we doing? What is this for? Power? Land? Honour? Why are we fighting? Is this what all these stolen lives are for…? “He grows cold.” Sigmar’s tears wiped against his bedroom floor. Glass had stuck to pictures, walls, and pricked against the wooden floor. Ink spat to each side of the chaotic, complex, confusing, tortuous walls of his abode. His body had curled into a shell of protection. Atop of his desk lay an opened letter with black ink fashionably scripted onto the fine parchment. "My brother, Nikolai Kortrevich received a short and cryptic letter from Isabel from Richtenburg while I was in Jerovitz for visiting purposes. When we got there, we found her. Not in the way that you would like. Pale and in her wedding dress, she was slumped on the floor with a single stab in her neck with some sort of peace on her face. I wish I could say the same about me. My sister is dead and everything is worse now. - Theodosya." Guilty thoughts seeped into his wounded mind. Was it his fault? Was his sister blood-lost on his floors because of his actions as a patriarch, as a brother? Was he even a good person? Did he deserve anything? A knife sat next to him, begging him on. A moment of hesitation grew onto his shivering hand but he refused to go on. The silver of the knife arose to his throat. Tears fell from his eye, dropping against the torn bedsheets. He had to, did he not? How could anyone live in a world so cruel and vile where everything is taken from you? The knife dropped against the wooden floor and Sigmar’s throat remained clean, without blood. He couldn’t. He had to go on, for his family… right? “His skin is pale” Scornful eyes from the courtroom circled to one center point, where Sigmar and Ser Erwin Bishop sat on both knees. Ropes knotted against their wrists and chains that rooted onto each pair of legs. Philip III, Emperor of the Orenian Empire, grimaced at the sight of the two Haeseni. “Did the raid go well, gentlemen?” Philip smiled at the Orenian soldiers who gathered behind the squire and knight. His gaze shifted back to Sigmar, then Erwin. “Your names? Be honest, for that may be the only honor you get this day.” Sigmar answered with the truth, “Sigmar Mondblume.” After, Erwin. “Ser Erwin of The Order of the Crow.” The Emperor held a pleasing smile at the mention of ‘Ser’. “My decision is made” Philip said after a second of thought. “Death by hanging. The two haense soldiers will hang. My mind is resolved as such.” Sigmar’s mind went blank. Just similar to the Battle of South Bridge. The surrounding sound became muted. His sight became unaware of those in the court who pleaded, even begged, for a different punishment. All he thought of was his father, Yvo Mondblume. Was this what it was like? Was this how his coma dreams went? Darkness and a cold feeling ooze around your body. Was that how it felt? “MY DECISION IS FINAL!” A light opened Sigmar’s vision. The Emperor looked to the court with an irked expression. “Anyone who opposes can gladly hang with them.” He threatened. “To the gallows!” At that, Sigmar’s restrained body was forced aloft to his feet. The rally marched past the city gates and reached the gallows. Erwin was first. He was shoved to the top and there a noose was tightened around his neck. Words from a churchman described the Knight’s final rights. And after a short speech from the Bishop patriarch, his body dropped and feet dangled. Just after, a hand pushed against Sigmar Mondblume’s back. His feet dragged onto the gallows and there he saw the Orenian crowd. The churchman repeated the same rights whilst the rope was quickly tightened against the Baron’s neck. “Any last words, Lord Sigmar Mondblume?” A tear dropped from Sigmar’s left eye, for his other was bandaged after a vicious fight with the Dobrov Monster. “War iz zuch a terrible zhing. It infectz everyone near it, even mea. Emperor Philip, ea knov vhat it iz like to have command. To have duty and rezpect. Ea never hated Orenianz or vellow Canoniztz like zhou zay ea do. Zhou do niet vizh vor pain and deazh, for nie leader zhould. Zhou vizh zhe bezt for zhou’r Empire.” He heaved a deap and heavy sigh. “War iz zuch a terrible zhing.” His lips closed and the Emperor gave a solemn nod. In a slow moment, the lever pulled. Sigmar’s footing fell but yet didn’t touch the soil. He dangled by a tightened nuse. He choked by the thick rope that held him above the crowd. “. . . M-mamej. . . Isabel. . .” The poor man wheezed, “. . . Ea’m coming home. . .” His eyes shut, choking ended, arms slung to his side, and his feet stopped moving. Sigmar Josef Mondblume dangled beside his comrade, Ser Erwin Bishop with cold, pale, and dead eyes. “Sigmar Mondblume is forever dead” @Lomiei {Corresponding POV from Ser Erwin Bishop} A letter was sent by crow to Theodosya Mondblume. @marslol A letter was sent by crow to Sigismund III @Xarkly
  5. Lord Sigmar Mondblume scanned the missive with a grateful smile. "Vhat a dobry choize for an Alderwoman! Zhe vill do vonderz." At that, his vote was decided. (He also wonders why his dead kin are. . . dead and crying smh)
  6. Cillian Castaway looked to his steps with eyebags that sacked down to his nose. His face was tearstained after only just reading the death of his only blood family. His only friend, his only love, his only family left from loyalty and friendship, stamped the letter on the step. Kneeling down, he looked bare at the parchment. A part of his soul tugged away from the missive as if not wanting to risk the chance. His straws became sparse and who knew which would make him tick enough to pull the last one. Though, with persistence inherited from his late father, Fionn Castaway, he slid his fingers to the envelope to open such a letter. His eyes pulled against the missive's sentences and words. Until he had stopped. "I always loved you." Cillian paused at the realization he had made. They both loved each other. The only one who would ever come close to Cillian, the only one who would smile and laugh at Cillian. Maya, had perished. His Father, and now his love. He began replaying each moment, each opportunity to tell Maya how he felt. Yet how could a commoner like him be accepted by a Bishop as of her. Even after and into his late life. Neither of those two things mattered to each other. It was him. He was the one who tugged back. He was scared of Maya. Her courage and strength pushed himself away. He was afraid of rejection. Afraid that the only person he will ever love would leave him alone. Now he was all alone. No friends, no family, nobody. Nobody at all. The Castaway took to the inside of his abode and sobbed atop the mourning of his father. I guess it's wrong what they say, you can't fight fire with fire. Because one will die out eventually.
  7. Cillian Castaway. . . stared at the missive. . . and stared. . . and stared. His family had been eradicated, leaving him alone until he himself ended the line of Castaways. All. Alone.
  8. Sigmar Mondblume, whom looked up to this knight his whole life, truly broke into a sob of tears. Tears of sadness but as well as respect. The tears reflected his honor towards the knight whom died fighting. His tears of sadness are ones of which will never forget the knight, and ones of which will miss him for eternity. Among the many who died, why him? The only thing holding the Baron together was the thought of fulfillment that Ailred would have felt. A man of great armor, steel, strength, and wisdom died a great death. A great death that will always be remembered to every young generation. As all these thoughts began sieging into the Mondblume's head, it only gained him more remorse. He couldn't even let out a word...
  9. Haldir te Daente smiles at this, he was now given more of a reason to kill the lying orenians!
  10. THE MONDBLUME MASQUERADE To those cordially invited, This is a night to forget about worries and trifles that may haunt you. Gather a mask and an outfit and hide your identity amongst the crowd. Everyone upon entry can be given an alias of some kind, or you can make one for yourself. Come join us and get lost within the stars. A section from the Baron of House Mondblume, Lord Sigmar Mondblume, It is time I do apologize; As you might know, after my father - Yvo Mondblume, the previous Baron of House Mondblume - dimly passed into a heartbreaking coma, his spot of Baron was left empty. I, Sigmar Mondblume, rushed to fill his place in a hope to maintain the house as I am the eldest son of the newest generation of Mondblumes. Unfortunately, after my father passed into a coma the pillars on my noble house began to crumble onto me as I had no idea what was expected as a Baron, nor as a brother. The responsibilities seemed to cast the weight of boulders onto my shoulders. I, being the foolish man I am, simply thought that avoiding this situation was the best option. And so, the pillars set by my father have crumpled leaving the house to fall into a pile of rubble of which led me to believe there was no saving the house. I trapped myself under the pile of rubble, digging myself further down as I dragged my family members with me and refused to do something about it. The activity of Mondblume events came into a drought, and so did my willingness to help my family. For this, I do greatly regret. I know now that the hole I dug was deep, but there lies rocks within the walls of the hole, and I intend to climb my way out. I promise you that my name will be carved into the walls of History, not in shame, but in glory. Krusae Zwy Koengdom. I. The Mondblume Feast Following Mondblume tradition, this masquerade will begin with a noble feast inside of the Ritchtenburg dining hall. A toast will be given to start the dining by Lord Sigmar Mondblume with a special speech, and of course thanking all whom gathered for the joyful event. II. A Rosy Dance After the benevolent feast, a dance will be held inviting all lovers, friends, and family to join together in a night under the stars. III. Unmasking When the dance comes to a close, everyone will be allowed to slide of their mask and reveal their identity. This is optional, of course. IV. 'Boat'le of the Bows Lastly, a rather unique event will be held outside of the keep. Players will be allowed a team of two, a driver and a shooter, that will attempt to shoot opponent boats. The last team still remaining on their boat team remaining will receive a sum of 400 mina. (( OOC: Shoot a another team's boat with a bow and arrow. One arrow shot at a boat will automatically break a boat.)) FORMAL INVITATIONS ARE SENT TO THE FOLLOWING: His Royal Majesty, Sigismund III Barbanov, King of Hanseti-Ruska and his noble pedigree His Princely Grace, Johann Barclay, Duke of Reinmar and his noble pedigree His Grace, Eirik Baruch, Duke of Valwyck and his noble pedigree His Grace, Rhys var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus and his noble pedigree The Right Honorable, Vladrick Kortrevich, Count of Jerovitz and his noble pedigree The Honorable, Aleksandr Amador, Viscount of Aurveldt and his noble pedigree His Lordship, Robert Ludovar, Baron of Otistadt and his noble pedigree His Royal Highness, Otto Morovar, Baron of Ghaestenwald and his noble pedigree THE INVITATION EXTENDS TO: The allies of Hanseti-Ruska Erwin Bishop, Patriarch of House Bishop, and the Bishop Family
  11. Baron Sigmar Mondblume read the missive to his brothers of the BSK, a smile arising from his crystaline face whilst a crunched fist arose to his heart. "Victory today, victory tommorow, victory forever. Krusae Zwy Kongzem!" Sigmar lowered his fist once the chant bellowed against the festive roads of Karosgrad. "Today, we share the same victory in honor and glory." He stated at last.
  12. i won't get any kills but i'll get a shit ton of assists 😳 ty the60th, v epic
  13. Lord Sigmar Mondblume rested his right arm at ease whilst reading the missive, his face lightened at the new styles and formations of the Brotherhood. "Once ea put on zhat sexy uniform, ea vill be a lady magnet! Ea love Haense." His smile remained painted across his pale skin, and his barbonov eyes swayed across to the door of the room as he called, "Mamej! Ea vill look even MORE dobry now. And uh, zhe brotherhood is gonna be cooler ea guess. ((Very exited about these changes!))
×
×
  • Create New...