ratlordmagic

Waclaw Jazloviecki scoffed with disdain as he read the so-called accusation. "So, do they have actual evidence to present or is this just a thinly-veiled strike against Aaunic leadership? I'm inclined to believe the latter."

Waclaw Jazloviecki let out a defeated sigh as he read the notice. "You've dug your own grave, Konstantin. Had you kept your head and not leapt to such drastic measures, something could have been worked out. Now, though..." A mailed fist slammed into his desk in Nowa Warsovia. "Now we have to act."

Aster von Theonus gasped upon reading the Mayor's account. "Ich am glad our Mayor survived entering what sounds like it could be the back rooms of the World... Gott knows those places can get creepy!"

Aster Von Theonus smirked and playfully shoved his brother as he complained at dinner. “Everyone tries to beat you up.”

“These ‘Nuns’ have poisoned children. I’ll do everything I can to bring them to Justice, no bounty required.” Said Ser Waclaw Jazloviecki, sharpening his blade.

Ser Waclaw Jazloviecki rolled his eyes. “These so-called ‘nuns’ are a danger and need to be dealt with. Unless, of course, Her Majesty values the safety of false nuns over that of her nation’s populace.”

“I wish with all my heart this was unnecessary.” Ser Waclaw Jazloviecki sighed, crossing his arms. “The sad truth of it is that is. We cannot risk the safety of the general public over a misguided sense of propriety.”

Ser Waclaw Jazloviecki, Count of Warsovia, lit a candle in memory of the passed king. “The king is dead, long live the king.” He sighed. He knew not what the future held for his homeland, but he had sworn an oath to serve the Kingdom with his life, and he was no Oathbreaker. Service to King and Country was God’s will, and he would see it done.

Waclaw Jazloviecki thinks back to that unexpectedly harrowing experience, simply glad that his wife and son are well.

“Sic Semper Proditores.” Waclaw Jazloviecki grunted with a satisfied nod.

Waclaw Jazloviecki could barely contain laughter as her read their mistake. “Aye, it’s Krug with a K. As for the actual message, you’d think they would have the self-awareness to realize that if everyone they meet hates them that perhaps they are the problem.”

Waclaw Jazloviecki snorted derisively as he read the missive. "They commit treason and try to paint themselves as victims... that's rich."

Waclaw Jazloviecki shook his head in clear disagreement with the missive. “As it is a ‘disease’ taken upon oneself willingly, let them seek the cure themselves. Any vampire discovered not seeking the cure of their own volition is rejecting God’s only true path to salvation for their kind and should be dealt with without pity or mercy.”

Count Waclaw Jazloviecki smiled upon receiving news of the wedding, happy for his sister despite his initial misgivings. “They really are a good match…”

AFFIRMATION OF THE LORDSHIPS OF WOLAVIA AND VISKA Issued on the 8th of Sun's Smile, 1931 Our house has always worked hard in service to their King, whoever that may have been. This is still the case as we serve the Alstion Kings of Aaun. Our enthusiasm does not diminish and the House moves forward achieving new goals. My brothers work as hard as I do to build up the reputation of our House. Aleksander helps out in the Legion and as Master of the Hunt, while Witold endeavors to become an Alchemist. In appreciation of their efforts and toil, by my authority as the Count of Warsovia, in consultation with the Prince of Alstreim, I confer on them the titles of Lordship. My brother Aleksander Wilhelm Jazloviecki and his descendants shall from now on bear the title of the Lords of Wolavia, while Witold Piotr Jazloviecki and his descendants shall be named the Lords of Viska. Let this be a reminder to everyone that hard work always bears fruit. Through our efforts, the power of the region of Merryweather and our United Kingdom of Aaun is growing. May we see such fruits borne once more through the labors of others in the future. W IMIĘ BOŻE, HIS LORDSHIP, Waclaw of House Jazloviecki, Count of Warsovia, Margrave of Grodno and Lvinsk, Count of Krakovia, Baron of Jazloviec, Warden of the Arentanian Alps, Defender of the Lechian People and Grand Hetman of the Eagle’s Watch APPROVED BY, HIS HIGHNESS, Heinrich II Lothar von Alstreim, Prince of Merryweather and the Rhine, Landgrave of Alstreim, Baron of Corwinsburg, Lord of Blackwater

“Mother, mother, I’m gonna be a pirate!” A young Aaunic boy excitedly called from outside a humble seaside house. “…That’s nice, dear.” Came a muted reply from the kitchen.

The Count of Warsovia has enlisted, why haven’t You?

Waclaw Jazloviecki snorted derisively as he read Hilda’s name on the missive. “So the false Ruric conspires to drag us all into war. I will be having none of it.”

I appreciate Staff trying to make the temp map engaging role-play wise, but as they themselves admitted it was not ever going to last 11 days. There should’ve been an immediate plan B when they knew they were delaying the launch of the next map by a week. That said, I understand and appreciate the constraints staff have to work with and they get major props in my book for taking player input into account regarding this.

Waclaw Jazloviecki scoffed as he read the plea. “The Daelish succession is already a settled matter, the crown is held in Abeyance until a moot can be held. Any attempt to seize it is an illegitimate farce.” He spoke, remembering a longstanding ruling.

In the Merryweather Refugee Camp, Count Waclaw Jazloviecki lit a candle for his late uncle. The Mori had taken so much- his pride, his homeland, and now his family. But beyond that, what he could never forgive was that the Mori’s lust for destruction and conquest meant he couldn’t even properly say goodbye to his Uncle. The young soldier got to his feet. “They will pay.” He promised through gritted teeth.

"A strong address for a strong king." Waclaw Jazloviecki nodded approvingly. "Welcome, royal Jamie."

"You really taught them how to say goodbye, father." Waclaw smiled, reading over the missive. "I'll do everything I can to do right by our people."

Waclaw Jazloviecki felt rage bubble inside him upon reading his younger brother's account of his capture. "Those bastards'll pay." He growled. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but they will."

Waclaw Jazloviecki scoffed as read the missive. "What a farce of a nation. Thanks for the free toilet paper, I suppose."