outcook

"Ready, aren't we?" Donny von Draco took a huff of his cigarette, looking to his father with a very, very wide grin. @ItemVendor

Donny von Draco seriously considers participating in the next jousting event...

ong

Vindicta von Draco Artists' depiction of a Sedanian guard and palace worker discovering the mutilated body of Caius de Ravensburg. Standing within Sedan’s meeting room laid a few figures, some conversing, some watching, and one plotting. They plotted the mission they gave upon themselves, the hunt that would bring him a feeling he’d never felt before. Donny von Draco took it upon himself to lure Vice-Chancellor Caius de Ravensburg to the palace’s meeting room - having learned of his plans against Sedan and using it as a reason to fulfill his own personal, and radical yearning for revenge. A pursuit for revenge stemmed from the infamous tales of Sofya and Argus Romstun. How they were used, taken advantage of, by none other than Caius de Ravensburg himself. The man sought to destroy his parents’ lives before his even began, being a liar, backstabber, and traitor to his beloved kin. This was enough for the young Donny to grow a deep hatred for the failed Chancellor, his childhood consumed by war and stories of his horrific deeds. He was a horrible man, in that eye of his. Nothing short of the same evil which took his other, best comparable to the overweight villains often found in children’s books - ones who seek to destroy the bond between a princess and her prince. Donny had successfully pulled Caius into his trap, a brief conversation ensuing between the two in the moments leading up to his plan. And in such a conversation, he expressed to Donny a warmth and kindness that almost made him hesitate, but it was in those doubts that Donny quickly regained himself and re-called the powerful words of his father. “No man is able to lead others only with imaginary titles and a pen. Raising a blade for an honorable fight is proof of your loyalty to your country and people. The fragment of the letter played in his head, the tick-tocking of his pocket watch indicating that time continued, and Donny only had so much of it before the luxury of opportunity fell from his grasp. Caius refused to duel me after insulting his own princess, which I stood up for. Donny kept his countenance drawn to the figures who dallied within that room, Caius’s pointless words muffled in his ears - breaths growing sharper and sharper as the seconds only went by, and the words resonated louder in his head. The rodent slithered back into his cage and hissed through the metal bars, attempting to hide the fear that overhauled his person when he heard my steed's distant hooves clop. The Draco’s anger only grew as Caius patted his back, the kind gesture paired with his past stirring Donny’s impending fury. Let it be known throughout the Empire - The arrows of the clock turned, finally reaching the dawn of a new hour. He is no man, Donny’s stormy gray eye burned its widened glare onto the side of Caius’s head, a hand shot to his back to grip Drakono Nagas, the infamous dagger that would be used to cut the shackles which bound him so much. And deserves no respect.” Caius rose a glass to his lips, his final moments of serenity plagued by alcohol and it's beautiful lie. For Sofya, that dagger was drawn. For Argus, Donny plunged it into the back of his neck, And for himself, he twisted and yanked the blade within his skin - mutilating it. With every torn piece of flesh that fell to the ground, with every violent stab and thrust into Caius’s neck, and with every splatter of blood that flew onto Donny’s face, a memory burned, and a quest for revenge neared completion. Donny’s only regret? Not ripping Caius’s heart right out of his chest and crushing it before the eyes of his father. Finally, they were free, finally, he was free. Finally, Caius ‘The Rat’ de Ravensburg, was dead. "The path of a righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

THE CUSTODIANS AND THE CUSTODIAL CHARTER There is no shortage of guilds and adventuring parties, all vying for glory and gold in a world constantly on the precipice of collapse, at odds with foreign planes of existence, beasts from beyond the veil, and even our own societal conflicts that wreak havoc upon the order of things. They brand themselves as arbiters of whatever virtue they choose to extoll, recounting honor-bound battles. And yet what have these people changed? For nearly twenty years the ruins of Dobrov have lain unconquered, the influence of a force strong enough to literally blot out the sun now stretching far beyond the initial town limits. Acre has had their children stolen away, and now not even the sacred site of Krusev is immune to the skinwalker and their master. In the center of Almaris, Du-Loc remains a crux of the insane and unexplained, left abandoned and guarded by a force of men that drop in number every single day. And in the west are untamed things, spirits and beasts alike battling the very nature of civilization in efforts to return the jungle into its primordial state. In times like these, we need no more heroes. There need to be people to clean up and maintain the fragile order of things. Though if the Descendents are anything, they are innovative. Whenever a problem arises, a solution follows through. And thus: The Custodians. Founded in 87 SA, these monster-hunters, sellswords, adventurers, and mercenaries set aside their own personal ambitions in the name of the greater good, forever dedicating themselves to the concepts of freedom, sapience, and the right to a soul. Named in part for the association with the cleaning up of messes (alongside the secondary meaning of maintaining or looking after something), this organization fashions itself as a loose collective with an organized body. They retain no uniform, yet operate under one name. Members join freely and may leave similarly, recoiling from the concept of lifetime service. Whether they serve as field operatives, intelligence operations, or clerical duties, each Custodian puts forward a valuable effort in ensuring that Almaris is as safe for descendent-kind as it can possibly be. The world had darkened. But in these dark times… should the stars also go out?

Donny Romstun cheers for his cousin, wondering when his own wedding will be...

Donny Romstun departed from the March, unsure of how to feel about such a treaty.

Donny Romstun weeps in the quarters of Crestwatch, remembering fondly of the days he spent with Goderyc. "Ea will never forget vy. Ea will never forget the God Gang." He muttered between his sobs, clenching a tight fist around the now crumbled missive.

damn that's crazy

Donny Romstun un-buckled his plate armour, it's metallic construction rattling onto the ground with a sickening clank. Humming did he stride, sighing did his fingers tie, and there he was, sitting, smiling wide. Peace.

See you Aiden. We may not have talked much on this server, but you were a chill guy and I wish you the best in your future endeavors <3

bless u

There sat an aged Oliver Solros, the laughs of various clansmen and family members echoing through the halls of his clanhouse, the same walls which enclosed the many memories of Pyrin-Nria Crane. Then he stood, fingers rolling gently over that parchment - the parchment bearing such news that paved way for many grueling minutes. In the moments of gargantuan agony that followed, Pyrin-Nria Crane's death was best comparable to a mighty yank against a rope, a rope far too weary and jaded by now. A rope that would soon be ruptured and leave nothing more than fragments of a life once so appreciated, surrounded by love, a woman beyond this world and a brotherhood so strong that it managed to flash before the young 'ker's eye as he faded out of those blackened depths he was forced to survive in. A rope that began its death in those very grueling minutes.

In the dead hours of the night, when there was not a single soul in sight, stood a masked Donny Romstun atop horseback - nothing more short of a devilish look left to take form across his countenance at the reading of the missive!

lmao bro sent this from the kingdom of elysium account

Donny Romstun stares at the post, blinking. He had no idea who she was.

I think the auction houses should just stay. They've been in place for a long time and it's a good way for people to make minas and what not. Trade RP isn't 100% demolished with it's existence either, I do both trade RP and place items on the auction house - all works out fine.

well needed post.

Donny Romstun reads the missive, grinning widely.

Donny Romstun stood then, before the hoard of dead Orenian corpses, a smile spreading wide against lips littered with a thick, crimson pool of enemy blood.

Donny Romstun grins widely, glancing to Prince Archie and Sofya Romstun von Draco!

A bloodied Donny Romstun chuckled before the collasped bridge leading to Daeland, celebrating the victory with his mother and father.

what's the best thing someone can do in roleplay