kindEmperor

The Nephilim spoke a prayer for the cloudbreaker drake, humming in tune with the fire that surrounded him. Before he dropped an odd flower atop where it was slain.

In times of grief and pain where the soul suffers and the flame weeps The Nephilim who saw, the Nephilim who witnessed change - He who wanted it, and he who attempted to risk his own well-being to secure the one who tried to end his. He strove and his fire wept as it made battle with a sword that clung to his shoulder, he imagined a better outcome, yet the worst one set aflame. The thing had no time to regret or think of a mere distraction that plagued his draconic mind. "Wood elf, I will not talk and act as if I knew you. For I did not, lest you recalled that time when you tried to strike me. Though whether that you lived or that strike hit true, I would have acted as I do now, say what I say now. I apologize for not doing as much to save your life and your soul, and I am sorry that I shattered your last words, and didn't allow your beloved to silence your words - I take responsibility for that, it was my own fault. Only I can understand, how my fire wished to cling to you to save you from your misguided direction, perhaps we could have been friends, allies, or even brothers. I offer many blessings Vallein and Valyris, too many blessings to keep count, many prayers - I cannot save your soul now for it is out of my reach, yet I hope your body is given a respectable ceremony matter the crimes you committed - I hope however they deal with it, it cleanses it from its sins and needless mistakes." The thing declared out aloud, offering a simple shrug before he set himself down in the corner of a tavern - He was lucky to find himself a near-infinite amount of alcohol in which he would digest and devoured the strong beverages, his maw was avarice for the liquids, and he quickly drank as much as his heart desired - He quenched his thirst or attempted at least, his expression was emotionless filled with callasnous as the drinks took no effect.

A certain Nephilim noticed the missive, reading its details and contents with a watchful eye - Did he scan the page, before offering a well-thought-out response that will explain the endeavor "The claims you make are blinded perhaps it is because of that light which blinds you, you claim I am 'corruption' and a taint, yet you don't know of my origins nor did you care to learn or debate on such, instead you attempted an assassination? In a place of peace - Little man, and elf. Dare I assume that you'd suggest that my fire is 'taint and corruption' yet it is the purest form of life, you claim me and mine people as 'darkspawn' yet you know nothing of my culture, nothing of my birthright, it's near pathetic to see a blind man make judgment over something that he does not understand in the slightest speck. The Nephilim uphold purity and that ancient pact which is to secure the safety of the descendants. You have never met my father, never felt his warmth - so speak not on us and our purpose, you who fears fire as much as he who fears the dark."

Something read through the new laws and codes, which dictate the future of the dwarven religion, yet as he studied the words and surveyed them with a close eye - he found himself with a growing opinion conjuring up in his mind, so in something he shortly replied to himself as he mused out aloud. "The sacred brathmordkin yemekar bless it, yet it and you claim it wishes for 'balance' hence the name 'yemekars' balance, yet it invites the influence of certain aenguldaemonica - Such as Xan and others. And even voidal magick, is this not a sin in itself? As they alter the dwedmar soul from its originality. This is well too confusing! Why have these codes, if they are easily shattered without resistance? Multiple dwed allow the influence of dark magicks and the deific ones of the species (aenguldaemonica) in which wish to claim rule and worship, over descendant kind. Yet if dwarves are the most favoured and perfect creation of yemekar, why are these soul-altering things recognized and granted power within the brath? Offered a long yet short thought speech out, perhaps some would listen, perhaps some would not. It mattered not, whomever asked these questions to himself only offered words and a long sigh...

"the worst thing you do when you know of a manipulator controlled by a higher power, in this case, it being a daemon - YOU DO NOT MAKE IT PUBLIC, now instead of avoiding him, people are going to TRY TO JOIN HIM" Something hissed at itself "We could of easily dealt with this matter, what a shame" It finished/

Its happening again

CMONNN

"Dragon blood? Strange the tradition to Hunt a dragon, whilst the blood runs through you is. . . ." Someone commented to himself, with a cigar resting neatly on his bottom lip

"Wait, didn't you guys ? Make a deal with HIM, to kill us all ?" Some creature wondered.

To the lion that hides In which a dragon scribes a note, to the cat the sunlit cuck. May fire bless his name, and cure it of the disease he carries. X*n, why is it you fear him? Why is it you hide now? Are you not order? is that not what you claim, yet you make excuses? After excuse. Pathetic. He has risen, you know it, you hear it, you smell and feel and see his presence. You do not smite him, because you are weak, and scared, you hide in your realm refusing to sunder. And as you dare not meet the prophecies that were placed on the plane, tell me you have people who worship you. How pitiful is it, to see their master scared. Instead, you focus your personal hate towards A z d r o m o t h. More - towards ALL dragons, for no more than a personal act. Not for the Order you worship and suckle at like a worn-out teat, for even a lion knows not to tread ground near the dragon's cavern . . . I to understand your grief. And I understand your jealousy. . . That your beloved and most loved, someone who you’d place down your life for.. Left you. But can you blame them? For why couldn’t she, she saw something better, a creature of immaculate purpose and she loved it, she cared for it. How can anyone blame her? Dragons can be the most cunning creatures, if looked at right. Yet you hated this, that you could NEVER be that immaculate thing that she desired so much. Is that why you hate us? Claim that we are an abomination ? PAHAHAHAHAHA. Really how pathetic, I fight all the battles, I challenge thee The dark? It will be swallowed by my avarice flame. The light? My fire shineth brighter and burns ever more violently. It is not blinding, it is pure and not corrupted. What is it you have to offer? Then false power. NOTHING. You have nothing to offer. Then rid yourself, you have no purpose. You beg for worship, you are no better than the thing you fear. . . Dare I speak its name. It really must kill you inside, knowing that my beloved father, he who lacks no true rival. resides in his vast chambers, crying out with laughter ; Hahaha, knowing even if you did kill us all. That your hate will only grow. And we will exist forever. Blessed be Azdromoth our king, where he keeps the world upright on his ivory wings . . . “ALL HAIL GIVER OF FLAME. FATHER OF GIANTS. ALL HAIL THE TITAN.” “FIRST BORN. THEE ARCH-DRAKAAR. THE GREAT A Z D R O M O T H.” ALL HAIL. THE KING OF KINGS. LONG SHALL BE HIS DAYS.

That orc passed? Hm, how tragic, perhaps he will rest well. Pity that it was unjust. Something uttered to themselves, in a deep passion.

LOL

yub yub

Elden Ring Lord Of Chaos - Tribute【GMV】 “Death following, death watching, as each step was followed with the next” Then like how most things started the day was young, the sun lit in the cold wind aching for it to be warm. They birthed a new flame mother of it - He the dwarf walked that path that he rightfully set out, it haunted him, it overtook Brankhyn the thought to embrace it was overwhelming. But how could he have any regrets? He sent out letters and had his last words spoke clearly The halls of fire, the halls of everlasting dreams sworn to truth to freedom overlapped the dwarf as he bid his last. “Draakopf do not fret, you started I and now I have become that very thing” “Let us not dream or speak, let us take action - for that is thou reality, our reality.” “Thus sweetness is made in calamity and in that there births anew, something odd ; ancient. Fire and stone. “The thousand steps, the fire does not die or quake it simply awaits it begging to be fed it ever avarice it lacked as much beverage, thus it swallows you whole old friend” Then the thousand, steps yet none began. The Doomforged in all his mortality and his young life answered to the An-Gho and the prophet answered with “When do you wish to die?” Then with each step - With every single step it felt like a thousand in this finite mind of his. Brankhyn embraced the thought he sang to himself, he dreamed in the moment… He was full of everything and anything yet nothing. He could not lie nor spout the truth. What was this? This feeling that death awaited, he could not. But this is something that he needed to do for the betterment. “Donny cannot see, he wouldn’t understand. But he will” Said he who took on the thousand steps with his mentor. Of stone and fire, he followed the statue as he tried to embrace to imagine the reality that was to be. He faced the starving fire… It begged to be fed. Those flames danced with it and sang with its cackling in the sunken depths of tor - azdroth. That thing that stood beside the Doomforged spewed terrible secrets, ohh they were something to be locked away in a deep vault. the thought began to embrace it all emerged. The thought embraced now it was only the fire to be left… Then the prophet clung onto his leal warrior ‘Brankhyn’ the first of his name and threw him unto the starving flames.. “The dwarf being burned alive by scorching flames” No time to dream, no time to slumber, no words could leave now action is dyre. The avarice starving fire was fed Brankhyn. It clamped and clung onto him quickly engulfing him whole it crawled in places none would know and in enveloped his form - His bones popped and splat open, they struck open with booms that called out through the halls His skin bursting open, terrible moans of anguish. The ugly screams of great pain left… then From ash to ash to ash there will be what is released, now there's only ash… That which is within is like that which is without; that which is without is like that which is within. “Sacrificed himself to bid my word, for I am reality itself I am” Then the bells rang like a song, a poem dancing. Something arose, a warrior of yore marked with ancient scales horns exploding from its head crowned atop like royalty - those scales riddled across him erupting like a volcano birthing lava.. Eyes were red and gold serpentine. They judged and they observed. It stood like a beaming tower that touched the stars. From stone to scale, my wings are torn, A song of death do I sing. A curse to fear, a rite to mourn Love not the pain I bring. Splendor to dust, my soul forlorn, We are your fallen kings. But now we die, to be reborn, When daemons clip our wings.” That thing watched and it met the An-Gho with such callousness, such little care it was born cocky; its juvenile behavior bore witness to the prophet. Then it met that golden third eye of his… The eye humbled the thing that rose from the fire, it quickly bowed for it had witnessed it. The thing was curious about the world so it made questions and it made answers out of them - It wondered deeply, it was fascinated and it yearned to know.

please +1 nice work (:

Rok Nardin - Waves 1st of the first seed. year 100 of the second age Brankhyn Doomforged facing off with a minotaur. “Drape yourself with the hide of a great beast you had slain” “What is great? Who decides these titles and who makes them? Does the wild monster of the east give itself such? Or is it earned as a race as a whole? Dwarves known to be greedy thus they are titled the most greedy. Orcs tend to spill blood. They are known as warmongers. Perhaps it was I that named it great, through actual war and blood spill” ____________________________________________________________________________________________ “Drape yourself in its skin” “Its hide is rough, its blood is water swimming down the bank of a river, as I cleave its skin. It is like peeling an apple half dead. This apple as great as it is, still cries. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ “Now place its hide over that ash skin” “As its cloying skin was cleaved off. The apple peeled. I draped myself with its hide. It clung to me like a lover. I thought it would reject me. For why wouldn’t it ? I killed its great master. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ “Why?” “Why not ? It gives me warmth in the cold. It didn’t look so great on the beast of the hills, it grew old. Still it lofted its mighty axe in the air and thrusted it around. The first spear I threw, Worthless a mere distraction, the shot of explosive metal tore it apart. Now I can sit on top of this mountain with this heavy hide as my protector. It is my triumph “Seriously, why ? Award the whole truth on it!” “fine.” “The day was young when I sought out on a hunt to find something, near anything to coat my skin of ash. My eyes of red, scouted and surveyed the lands like orbital stars prying over whatever lurked the hills. I need not ask why I must drape myself in this skin, But I would and I was restless. Though soon It appeared like gold in the river. And I made my attack, in short it fell with a bolt releasing impact and shrapnel across its system. I then brandished a blade then made clothing of its skin, Its blood splattered like a child playing in the sand… I thanked It, for why wouldn’t I ? ____________________________________________________________________________________________ “The fervent Doomforged journey after baring its skin on skin” “Then it's a heavy burden and weight placed on my shoulders. I draped myself with its seasoned hide, I walked to a place of rest as I spent the day. Restless yet another burden I was given, yet I cherish each burden as a trophy. I carry it as a dead lover. Now the mountains erected like spears stand before me, Perhaps I should make a throne on the top? Then I rest. Its hide will protect me, as I dream and wonder. Or It will be a nightmare haunting and everlasting. What blunder would that be? If I fell asleep? Not knowing which to expect. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ Brankhyn marched atop to the mountains, after slaying to then cut the skin of the minotaur. He placed its hide over himself, as he made his way to the mountain ever greater in height then he. He began to think of a poem or a song? Just something to distract his mind from the ache of an exhausted body. Then soon enough he had made it. Atop of the hill, atop the mountain he placed himself down. The hide kept him warm, its heat gathering within itself. He then lifted out a strange orb of sort draconic in all nature, he then stared at it. “Know of this burden, and love it” “Know my name. But do not spill it” “Thous songs are ever so sweet” “Thy dreams ever so haunting” “Fonder the skin, and mine ambition, mine passion can take you” The dancing fire that brimmed in the lamp was dim though set. It flickered the fire with constant action ; those smoldering red eyes of his gave a reaction of wonder, of beauty and a ugly lie, that sung the truth. ____________________________________________________________________________________________

what does schizo rp mean again ? I only do slice of life rp lulz

Some herald of azdromoth wondered if he'd ever met any iblees worshippers before.

Ig it makes sense - mages just sh*t out 20 voidal weapons with enchantments, then sell it for a quick mina. Weaken the voidal magick users those neeks!

I love meh some Dragon lore!? (please don't pk me/disconnect me) I was not forced to plus one this, I have no reason to lie and I believe that all Dragon lore = good lore luv meh dragons +1

Doomforged went hunting [!] A missive that seemed to be birthed from fire - with lesser draconic writing would be pinned on a wall on the ancient walls of the monument. The words if readable only by heralds would simply state the following. “Went hunting, if I don’t return, three stone days either dead or missing!” The note explained with rough writing, the words etched onto the paper with unnecessary speed, and below the missive a signature

Dragon = based? Jentos lore? = +1

skimmed through the missive as per usual nodding, and agreeing with what was said - though something, though no distinct answer crossed his mind, at reading "The t*sticles of a Xannite" Nonetheless it matter not! He thought.

1 Hour Loop "Why do I still live?" (Extended version) To those who I favored most, who now know not of where they are… For the days I have spent, wondering, dreaming, and traveling around these accursed lands, where life is not fair and where life is banal where man and dwarf alike preach the same thing with the same similarities but they are oh so ever different, thus I am made anew, scribed by the wailing ash that falls from my form and my boiling crimson eyes. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Draakopf fallen kin o’ mine Killed by the Grand king of Urguan Bakir. Draakopf grandfather, my father as I called you back in those days of old. You were the one who blessed me and taught me before where I am now, the times we had were imprinted upon me moulded me, and shaped me with splendorous forging, You were the one who protected me against those foul things that hated us so much, but who could blame them for you was ruin? You were uncontrolled fire but served nonetheless. Let me not talk of mine asioth, but father when I see you again? Tell me of yours, I have grown in your memory and I can only pray that I have served you well. . . I am you from ash to ash, but I try to be different, for I cannot war the very gods as you did, I am vigilant and keen, and my voice will be heard and a solution will be made as we promised all those years ago. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Marius Vilac favoured friend o’ mine Killed by an unknown Lector. Marius my good friend, it troubled me when I first heard of your passing, though I did not let it get the better of me. I knew you wouldn’t want it to control my decisions dear friend, you were a meaningful and truthful teacher that many needed but most of all wanted so much, I remember you preaching and I remember how you fought for those very same ideals. . . All I can say now friend is that I can only show your son so much, for he is alike to you in many ways he doesn’t see it as I do. But he is the solution you were looking for! When do I see you again dear brother Marius let us talk about it? Yes? I can see the Dragon inside of your spawn and his flame awakening… _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Nehtamo, a good friend o' mine unknown either missing or dead. Nehtamo the elf who showed up and did much, I need not recall the number of times you had to save me from those situations, as you already know of that. I wonder what you are doing now? I could sense unease in your eyes, friend, worry, sadness. Though I never understood why it always baffled me what was on your mind. Though you are more capable than most…. Who knows I can hear you now telling me “Bortu no, think again, try again!” I could be wrong, or I could be right. But when we meet again brother Nehtamo, let us not speak about the bad times. The memories of old that were filled with spite, let us talk about the good memories, should I recall that time when Vothdrem was chasing you around, due to you shooting him? Ahh, fun times indeed! _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Kronk, strong battled hardened warrior and ally. Death, torn apart and then obliterated by the void. Kronk, I will keep this short, as I have not much to say about you, we have only known each other for some while, but you were a dwarf, a good dwarf but still a dwarf - The blood that swam through you was that of Iron, and your head was carberum, You were a true battle hero among our kin of dwed, there was no army if Kronk were not leading it. I remember that much, Though you did have your faults though all do, you were stubborn and the very thing people admired about you or loathed about you. was the same thing that got you killed. I need not speak of the void and its treachery, Though you stood your ground in times of chaos and that is what matters, Sigrun should be proud that his blood swam through you, and therefore an exceptional warrior was forged Kronk ‘The Grand Stormheart’ When we meet again, let us speak more aye lad? I’ll bring a drink or two. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ I would sit, and I would sing more words to you, my kin, my friends, and my brothers. But the use of speech? And talking? It is time for action, so let me slow down my baffling and let me reveal my tarnished blade, and my ash tongue for stories to tell, and war to sing. Where your path took you, it will not take me. Brankhyn Finished short, taking a breath and remembering his fallen comrades. His hands clasped and he fell silent. __=__ = So thou know of my will, allow mine ambition; allow mine passion to take you to that unseen place. . . For I am on my way, the journey is scarce so be thankful. This blade will cleave as justice, through the shadows of the night - to then outshine the dawning sun itself. Thine own eyes are the setting dawn and the rising moon, from ash to ash, to fire on fire. This own command is to love and hate, so let me glimpse it for thou, and tell you of its beauty. Thee must know what I sing. And where I dance. Sweet asioth, Great Asioth! __=__ =