ratlordmagic

“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."

Waclaw Jazloviecki smiled as he read the missive. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. We couldn’t stop them, but we bought enough time for everyone else to get away, and those bastards paid for every step.”

Waclaw Jazloviecki lit a candle for the old man, holding back tears. The youth clenched his fist, determined to make it so the old warhorse did not die in vain. Elsewhere in Almaris, an Oyashiman getting on in years in his own right closed his eyes, and gave a sad nod. “Aye, that’s the way they old bastard should’ve gone. Rotting in a bed was never his style. I’ll see him again before too long.” He then let loose with a coughing fit, barely contained by a handkerchief that was dotted with blood when pulled away.

Waclaw Jazloviecki grimaces as he read through the tenets, looking more unhappy the further down the list he got. His life had been saved by Orcs, he fought and nearly died protecting non-Canonist Norland. He had seen the supposedly inherently superior humans stopped in their tracks by the Mori. He’d seen enough of the world to know where he stood on this. No, he would not be joining his brother’s movement.

Waclaw Jazloviecki spat in the dirt. “A treaty with those Adrian bastards isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

Waclaw Jazloviecki smiled as he read the rebuke of Heinrik. “Beyond Based.” He nodded, using a phrase still (somehow) popular with the youth.

“The Duke of dogs finds himself cornered.” Waclaw Jazloviecki smiles as news of the alliances reaches Warsovia.