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Jenkins0311

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    Jenkins0311#1395
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    Jenkins0311

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  • Character Name
    Guile Serdio
  • Character Race
    Human

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  1. Possibly one of the most under-rated poets on the server. Keep up the amazing work my friend!
  2. Scurrying around the room, Torrie was frantically shutting the windows, baring the door with a stool and flipping the dining table. As she went about fortifying the small abode as best she could, her children Jacob and Percilla Ronsworth hid behind the table as the armies began encircling around their home. "It will all be alright my babies. Mama promises everything will be alright," Torrie spoke her words of hope feeling void as the tears streaming down her face began to wet her gown. "Mama, I want daddy!" Percilla cried out. "Mama, I'm scared! I want Daddy, Mama!" "Daddies not here Precilla!" Torrie snapped seemingly out of frantic turmoil. "I.... I'm going..... you need to trust me Percilla," she stated, stumbling over her words as she spun in circles, her breathing growing heavier with the increased sound of the war drums. "I'll keep you safe Percilla," Jacob tried to consul his sister. "I'll protec..." The shattering glass of the window across from the overturned table stopped him mid sentence as an arrow anchored itself into the wall only feet above them. Percilla wailed as she held her brother's arm, Jacob fearing she might break it. Torrie shrieked as a volley of stray arrows began bombarding her small house, running to try and take cover near her children. The interior of the small home began to erupt around them as the cries of dying men and iron clashing filled the air; arrows implanting themselves into the walls and table they hid behind. "I WANT DADDY!!!!" Percilla screamed with an unnatural voice, sounding as if death were tightening his cold fingers round her throat. "I WANT DADDY!" Jacob held his sister as best he could as she shook and squirmed, her body flailing about as the raging battle began outside in the town of Acre. Though he tried his best to hold her, Percilla broke free of his grasp, running toward the door. "PERCILLA," Torrie screamed rising to her feet chasing after her child. But, no sooner did Torrie grab her daughter by the hand did her neck become impaled with an arrow. Crashing to the floor, blood gurgling from her mouth she desperately attempted to call to her children "ru...nn...... run!" Just as Percilla and Jacob realized their mothers words, the body of a soldier hurtled through their door, cracking the make shift stool barring it. No sooner did the soldier fall through the door, another entered running his blade through his torso before looking inward to see the ungodly sight before him. Percilla, screaming, ran past the soldier and into the fray outside. Jacob soon attempted to give chase, but while running past the soldier standing in the door way, he was knocked to the ground, pinned under him as a blade pierced both the soldier and Jacob. The blade released, and the soldier slumped off of Jacob as he managed to pick himself up realizing he had been stabbed in the shoulder. Jacob gave chase after where he saw his sister run last, and found himself surrounded on all sides by unknown men, dressed in chain mail and iron, their screams and wailing filling his ears like an overflowing cup of wine. He ran to the left, then to the right, weaving in and out of fallen men and women whose corpses were beginning to riddles the ground around him. He finally began to run north toward the hills. He ran for what felt like ages, reaching the outskirts of town. "PERCILLA!" he screamed, hoping she would call back, but nothing seemed to be heard over the war cries of the armies below. "PERCILLA!" he attempted again, his voice cracking as he began to sob in place. Suddenly, horses and their riders charged past Jacob nearly trampling him in their wake. He rose to his feet to see a Horsemen notice him and yell, "Run Boy" as he pointed north. Fear filled Jacob's heart as he began to run. He ran until he reached the mountains of the north, and it wasn't until he reached the gates of an unknown kingdom did he slow his stride. He quivered in the chilling cold, his bloodstained clothing beginning to chill his skin from the mountains blistering winds. Walking aimlessly for a while, he stumbled upon the city gates. "Eh lad, Can I... help.... oh lord!" the gate-man gasped, noticing the young Jacob covered in blood and with an arrow lodged in his right thigh. "Oh lad, we need to get you looked at," tears began to fester in the guards eyes. "I'm waiting on my sister Percilla," Jacob stated, seeming not to take notice of his own condition. "I promised I'd take care of her...." his breath beginning to speed as his skin began to turn pail. "I promised mister!" The Guard yelled back "CLERGY! I NEED A CLERGY!" Turning back toward Jacob he sat him down. "We are going to take care of you lad. CLERGY HERE NOW." As Jacob's eyes began fading he looked upon the guard holding him. The guard looked down at Jacob, attempting to shake him awake, "You're going to be alright lad, you're in Haense now....."
  3. Looking around his abode and remembering all that he left to come to Almaris, Guile sighed heavily. To him, all Almaris were his kin since he had none to speak of. Orcs, Elves, Humans, Dwarves.... Nobles and Common alike had taken him in. To Guile, this was another civil war seemed destined to endure again. Cleaning his home and writing a few letters to close friends, Guile closed the door to his home for the last time and headed to Eastfleet.
  4. Once again, I am more impressed by the Children's politics than the Adults politics.
  5. Is it bad that I find the politics of the children more interesting that the politics of the adults?
  6. Jenkins0311

    Jenkins0311

    Born to Lenus Dorbin, former ruler of Sandora, he was to be hung by the ramparts along side his father during the success of the rebellion. Though against the wishes of his piers, Guile Serdio talked those around him in letting the young boy live and flee to the country of Longollia. Having come of age and now wishing to exact revenge, he has traced Guile to Almaris and aims to finally get that revenge for helping to kill his father. See (NOTE) in Roleplay section.
  7. Hello everyone, I would like to first say thank you all again for making this a wonderful experience for me! I have been taking notes on what to add to Guile's Journal tomorrow and it was CRAZY everything that happened this past weekend! You guys and gals have been amazing to play with and work with. You are truly a dream come true! I have begun the first few sections of the book, and I wanted to make sure I included your inputs into what was going to be presented. So, please feel free to vote on what you all think the Title of the book should be and I will take the highest poll. I will close the poll once Guile's journey is completely over, so there isn't any rush. Feel free to DM me with any questions or concerns, and I look forward to playing this for many more years to come!
  8. Upon hearing this tail, Guile looks around his humble abode nesting atop the furnaces of Hanseti-Ruska. He looks to his armor set, Madinia, and thinks back on his former days serving alongside his brethren and sisters in arms. His eyes begin to glint around his home and how neatly everything has been placed, the cleanliness it holds; a stark contrast to anything he had known before it. As a stern look forms across his aging face, whether of disapproval in himself or of intimate understanding of the circumstances, perhaps he himself not even knowing, as he takes a deep and haggard breath. Finally, after a short time that might be confused as eternity to those whom have ever lived in such moments, Guile rises to his feet mumbling under his breath. "Golden Swords..." he mutters silently to himself and any gods above that might hear the words of an unbelieving man, "Golden Swords." He grabs his sack and apron hanging atop the coat rack beside the door frame as well as the many ingots of gold he had been storing for any such occasion. Heading down the creaking steps of his home and into the furnaces below, he begins fashioning the ingots, preparing them for the burning coals while he stares into the abyssal flames. "Golden Swords it shall be then," he mummers to himself, his brows sweating from the heat of the flames and melted ores as he begins his works through the evening.
  9. When he is famous, everyone needs to know I played with this guy online!
  10. Thanks to everyone following the threads. I am still trying to find a way to have this more accessible and easier to navigate other than sending Links to Google Docs. If anyone has any advice, please let this ole fart know. Also, thanks to everyone who has given input into everything I have been spitting out recently. Have a wonderful day and enjoy! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1aKIyUegGAOgghqJ5wIeVOjFqx9KXf-bKrQb6JbwMdUM/edit?usp=sharing
  11. Amazing writing!

    1. Jenkins0311

      Jenkins0311

      Well thank you PXY. I appreciate the kind words friend. Hopefully we run into each other sometime in game. If you ever follow along Guile's Journal, he spends a lot of time at the Prismarine Spires in Eastfleet. Not trying to META by any means, but idk if your character reads his letters of writings. If they do, maybe stop by and see me sometime. I try to stay true to his character arch and visit there at least once per MC session.

      Edited by Jenkins0311
  12. His eyes thrusting open and gasping for breath as if drowning, Guile jerks himself awake. As his vision begins to adjust around him to the bright light of the sun, the oak tree’s shade casts a blanket of shadow over where he lay. Blinking and rubbing round his eyes, Guile finds himself naked and lying upon a crimson blanket under the great oak. Turning to his surroundings, he finds himself in the Vingarian Valley, just west of the foothills of the Valludian Mountains. “Good morning my Love,” a voice then echoes across the valley of gerbera daisies and iris. Turning himself so swiftly that he nearly falls forward, Guile looks across the spanning meadow and sees Madeline, standing nude in the field of flowers, plucking them from the ground and fashioning a small bouquet. “Good morning,” she says while tilting her head allowing her locks of amber hair to fall freely as she smiles. “Madeline,” Guile musters, speaking under his breath as he picks himself up from the bedding of blanket upon the grass beneath the great oak. “Madeline,” he again speaks seemingly without thought, his eyes gazed upon her as she smiles and walks about the flowers. As Guile begins to walk toward his bride, the carpet of growth beneath his bare feet kisses his toes with morning dew. A soft breeze flowing from the mountain sweeps across the valley as Madeline turns her stride to meet Guile, smiling and holding out the bundle of flowers. “Do you like them, Love?” she asks, her youthful smile radiating with her emerald eyes. “I love you,” Guile mutters while taking the flowers, his gaze fixed on Madeline’s beauty and form. “Where, have you been?” he stumbles over his words as his eyes begin to quiver a bit. Chuckling a bit, “the flowers Guile, do you love the Flowers? And what do you mean Guile?” Madeline responds. “I have always been here.” “In the Vingarina Valley?” Guile questions, fingers gripped tight around the flowers in his hand. “No silly,” Madeline replies while stroking Guile's hair to the side and behind his ears, “in the Valley of Gito.” Guile’s face begins to churn while digesting the thought. He turns again to face the Mountains of Vallude and notices the sun setting behind the peaks instead of rising. Turning back, his stature beginning to soften, “I don’t understand.” Madeline’s demeanor seeming amused, she takes Guile's free hand holding it softly. “You promised me when we were children Guile, remember?” She then recites as if from memory, ‘One day when the war is over, we will go across the mountain and into the Valley of Gito, to the land beyond lands’. “You promised to build me a house and we would start a family. Don’t you remember Love,” she whispers as she kissed Guile's hand and holds it against her cheek. His body beginning to tremble nervously and his eyes beginning to tear, Guile answers, “of course I remember my Dear Madeline.” Upon feeling the touch of Madeline’s delicate face, Guile takes a deep and heavy breath, composing himself as best he can as he begins to feel a smile widen across his teeth. “I have always remembered my promise to you Madeline.” “Good, now go grab the blanket,” she gleefully glints away while smiling back at Guile. “There is a brook I want to show you my Love, and we can talk about all the things I wish you to build in our home,” her smile piercing into Guile's soul. Guile then turns, heading back across the meadow, under the oak tree as the soft breeze in the valley begins caressing his bare chest. “Hurry Love,” he heard in the distance. “I’m coming,” Guile grasping the blanket and bouquet. “Madeline!” Guile then shouts upon turning back, dropping both blanket and flowers to the ground around him. Before him a meadow decay and rotting grass, the dew turning to blood as it covers his feet and toes, slippery and thick. The breeze giving way to a cold and void howl that pierces through his skin like needles. And before Guile, his bride. Hanging crucified, disemboweled and dismembered, Guile's wife; a gaping slash across her abdomen, chucks of severed flesh oozing fresh wounds, her kneecaps cut out leaving her hanging limp, and her eyes removed from their sockets hangs Guile's Dear Madeline. “Why Guile?” she begins to scream, her voice cracking in an unnatural state. “Why did you let me to die?” Her body thrashing about as it hangs. “Guile,” another voice cries from behind him, “you left us to die!” Turning, Guile sees Sir Fredrick Bell, also under the same fate as his bride. “Why Guile?” two more voices beckon out, that of Lukas and Iulius. As Guile begins to turn around himself in circles as they seem to multiply; Angelika, Georg, the Bishop family, Hensworth, Gustaff. They and an innumerable other all encircle him as Guile’s breath begins to quiver and his eyes fill with horror. And through it all, as Guile begins to fall onto the ground in tears and agonizing sobs, a figure in a red robe walks through the forest of crucifixes and mangled bodies. As it approaches Guile from behind, it removes its hood, revealing itself to be King Lenus of Sandora. Slowly, he lowers himself kneeling beside Guile as he sobs uncontrollably, and whispers softly into Guile's ear, “I will kill you all Guile... ‘We’ will kill everyone...” As Lenus stands back to his feet, he begins to walk away slowly before turning his head back and stating, “Welcome to the land beyond lands Guile. You shall find no peace here.”
  13. *a few days pass after the War-Chief sends out his response. One morning, a Sea Lantern glowing in vibrant hue sits outside the Theoderic camping, under it a letter of hearty parchment reads* To the War Chief of the Theoderics, I once served under a tyrant King who claimed nobility only through what was considered purity of his bloodline; and in rebelling against him, I served alongside former Nobles and Lords who at one time were considered their titles in the same fashion. However, in our rebellion for freedom, we stood as equal men, one no different from the other and the blood that separated us we also shared in giving it on battle fields that I often wish I could forget. However, no on, I say not one, has ever shown wisdom as you have, and for that your men should consider them selves blessed. For, many a wise man understand that the so called 'Enemy' in this tale is the savior of this poor soldier; but I do say that you are the first I have met to consider his 'Allies' against him as well. Surely War Chief, there have been no other that I have found, and possibly no other in Almaris with the understanding that you have shown. For that, a gift: though it may seem a simple stone to your peoples of Almaris, it would have brought my late wife great delight to behold and I collect them in her memory. This is for you wise War Chief, let it be a light in dark wanders. Now, I need a list of the amount of men under you care and their carried arms. As I stated, I have vowed not to raise arms again unless for my own honor (and the honor of my Late Madeline) or if given no other option to defend my life. However, I will supply your cause and your band with what I can in secrecy. I need a list of a number of service under your charge, their preferred arm, and bows and bolts. Now, War Chief, I implore that you make no mention of this to no one, not even those under your care, lest they become captured or tortured for information one day; I want no mention of my accomplice tied, for then I will be in open breaking of my vows and my name shall be shamed! To reach me is simple. In Eastfleet lay the Prismarine Spires; under the spire furthest North I shall set a clay jar that would look as smooth rock to a passer by. Leave message in the jar and I will come once a week to check, though I shall not mention the day. Upon leaving your message, return 3 weeks later and you will find message in the same jar from me on a location your troops should find my gifts hidden in the Urguan Valley. *In bold print* DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SEARCH FOR ME. I wish you all the best in your endeavors wise War Chief. You have my respect and my word of honor. Signed *The Foreigner*
  14. Actually, it was first used by the Macedonians, and perfected under Alexander the Great during his conquests. He used Cavalry as a Skirmishing element and Flanking element where the Romans used Cavalry as a prominent attacking element. The Romans, by all accounts were horrible war fighters. Good at conquest and installing Governments, but horrible at warfare. Think of any battle they ever fought and look at their losses. Now, some would argue that they were a great force because of their infrastructural capabilities, but if that were not the case, as it is in some cases, the Romans got there cans handed to them.
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