SethWolf

I have never played a W*ldenian nor will I ever play a W*ldenian but any opp of the Greater Reinmar-Minitz Freestate is an opp of mine

Walter Weiss read over the missive, his armor still misted and stained with the blood of non-believers and savage orcs. Duke Wilheim of Reinmar stood side-by-side with his brother in arms and Walter's grandfather, Felix Weiss when house Weiss had petitioned King Karl III for their enfoeffment of nobility and so the Weiss felt bittersweet at the news that they would no longer be able to refer to them as peers. But he knew no matter where in the world there was a Barclay, one would never find rest nor rust. "Dobry luck, comrades." He then headed to the tavern to drink his fill and sing the songs of victory.

Walter Weiss hoisted his pint of inky black liquid into the air as the bard played the tune of his most beloved drink! "The first sip is the vilest bit of swill you've ever had. The second's guaranteed to be at least three times as bad It only gets worse going forth until your glass is drained Then you'll never want another drink 'sides Carri'n Black again!" He belched loudly as the verse ended, falling back in his chair and clattered onto the floor.

Tech team keeps garnering W's like they were born to it.

The Br*t is correct. Us complaining about it on a basket weaving forum isn't going to fix it though. Vote with your wallets - tis my two cents on the matter.

Walter Weiss received news that he was to be summoned by a divine messenger of Godanistan whilst he was deadlifting fourteen plates for a clean set of 600 in the palatial gym. The bar fell to the ground, leaving craters in the oaken panels of the gymnasium floor. A feeling a patriotic zeal overwhelmed him. "I ******* love the Duma."

Walter Weiss had received the letter, and sat upon his Vikomital throne in the empty halls of Novkursain late into the night. His eye scanned over it, and he felt a pain in his chest. He never knew how to connect with his mother, and there were times it was easier to hate her than understand her. He was a terrible son. He knew that, and so he took no offense in her letter, for it was the truth. She knew him about as well as she might a total stranger. Walter sank slightly in his throne. There was a part of him that always wished to be able to repay the genuine love and acceptance that she had shown him. Even when he hated her, she had only wished the best for him. He was a terrible son. That thought rang out in his mind once more. He hated her because he hates himself. In his mind, he concluded that she deserved better than she was given. Though, that was likely a thought most have at some point or another. He closed his eyes, and he tried to remember a time far back in years past, to a sunny coast with lilac flowers as far as the eye could see. He wondered that one day, when death came for him, would she be there waiting for him? He hoped, somewhere deep down in the emptiness of his heart that should he ever see her again, he would be able to love her as a son should. His lips moved, "I'm sorry, madre.." The throne room was empty, all except for him, and the silence continued late into the night.

The Black Rider had got his hands on the missive. He sat tall upon his steed, bedecked in blood-stained half-plate as he trotted along the sleepy hollows of the dark forests that line the road to Nor'Asath. "Go on then.... end it." Her final words echoed in his mind as he quietly stalked the backwoods and seldom-traveled paths within the dark recesses of the forest floor. He had only known the dwed for a few moments. The pain he saw in her eyes - it was unmistakable. There was something else, though. Something within her countenance that knew no pain, and no fear, and no hatred. He had killed many, and the manner of their deaths were as varied as their stories that led up to them crossing paths with him. Rage, cowardice, defiance. He saw all of their faces, all of them twisted with foul emotion before his knife met their throats. Yet when death came for her, she expressed none of these emotions. He finally realized what he had saw in her eyes, in her final moments. Relief. The Black Rider silently halted in his path, a long exhale of breath came from under his helmet. She fought courageously, but when he had bested her she had greeted his knife like an old friend. She had made him to be a specter of death, who had rung her death-knell to call her home. He looked down to her heart, which lay in his satchel. The missive fell from his hands like the many leaves from the trees, quietly drifting down to lay upon the dense undergrowth. The Black Rider would never forget her... And he promised himself that her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Walter Weiss had been there, when Stanislaw passed, his hand on his chest. He thought long, and hard in the moment of his brother's passing, to the man he was, and the boy he'd grown up with. His Brother. Of the time they shoved cake in their father's face upon their fifth nameday, all the little fights they'd had running around their family's flower fields, and the adventures they had upon the streets of Karosgrad. He'd always been quietly jealous of Stanislaw, of the Golden Baby of Karosgrad, who was born glowing a brilliant golden hue and who could make flowers grow with their footsteps. Though, it was a childish jealousy. Walter had always loved Stanislaw as the goofy twin he was, and divinity would not change that. He thought of their adulthood. Walter had always wanted to be a knight, or a priest so that he could stick with his brother on his numerous holy adventures as the two had always dreamed. However, the realities of life soon set in, and all of those plans seemed to eek away with time. As the heir of Weiss, he knew he had another road to walk. And upon that road he still would walk. But now, he had to walk it alone. "Keep my seat warm, Borsa. We'll walk those flower-fields again. Some day." A tear fell from his eye. "I'll miss you. Va ve Maan." And the tears kept falling.

Walter Weiss thought for a moment, upon the Battle of Breakwater, where he upon the breach in the mote waded ankle-deep in the blood of elves and bandit alike. He also remembered the crossbow bolts he had taken - for despite his enemy's dishonor, they were proud warriors, and keen marksmen. "Nothing compels a man to fight harder than fighting for his home. This war is far from over, and they'll make us bleed for every inch we take." He thought to himself. Then, he drank from his steel flask of Carrion. "Let us hope to be home by Tuvmas. Our Peace will be secured." He thought once more, and prepared to march.

THE LION’S SHARE “VA VE MAAN.” Issued by THE VISCOUNTY OF NOVKURSAIN On this 30th day of Tov and Yermey of 506 E.S. HERE BE THE WORDS OF VISCOUNT WALTER WEISS, The Vikomital House of Weiss, dutiful to the military affairs of our kingdom in all things does hereby part a gift unto the crown: A sum of three thousand two hundred minae, alongside fifteen hundred and twelve units of iron to assist in paying for the logistics and salaries of our brave brothers and sisters in arms and to arm all appropriately to the fullest extent. May we continue to serve the crown, the kingdom, and the security of its people dutifully and with courage until the end of days. Krusae zwy Kongzem; Va ve Maan. IV JOVEO MAAN, The Honorable, Lord Walter León Weiss, Viscount of Novkursain, Baron of Zvaervauld, Lord of Staalgrav, Lord Palatine, and Marian of the King’s Own Retinue. Her Highness, Veronica Isabella Weiss, Princess of Hyspia, Curator of the Crown Jewels, Armsman of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl.

If it's accepted, a community team member will reply to it. Yours is currently pending!

Walter paused, and wrote, "To deny the whereabouts of owns own kin is not the responsibility of a Godunov, or a Colborn. If you so brazenly seem fit to throw your rocks and hide your hand, then by GOD may he damn the House of Godunov. You are but a boy, who thinks they can dictate how a family rules its own. You are no noble. You are scum, lower than even the darkspawn that siege us so. Take up the blade if you will. You will lose." Signed, Walter Leon Weiss, Viscount of Novkursain.

Walter Weiss looked over the missive, and he chuckled. He began to pen the missive, which would be placed anywhere public - basilicas, market stalls, what have you. "To the Baron of Sevilla, Iduna is a curse amongst the family of Colborn. She knowingly, and willingly by her own admission and others hid her own family from the Weiss. Despite knowing that she was alive, she hid Raelle from us. From her own mother, who feared she was dead. Iduna denied Raelle's family any grief. Any closure. A most grevious sin, and deplorable action. Raelle has since turned to a daemonic and heretical faith of Druidism, of which she happily obliged. Hence, I was the one who asked that she be disowned." The missive continued. "Should you fight anyone, you shall fight me, should my father be unwilling to entertain your ill-informed rant. Name the time and place. You should know, I only duel to the death."

Felix Weiss ran forwards as he heard the cry of his daughter, for he had been waiting so long for her arrival. He scooped her up and twirled her around, and he laughed with the joy of family re-united, for even in death he would always be there for her. Finally, they could explore this fabled paradise together as they had planned so long ago.

WE DONT XP WASTE IN THIS *****.

i was watching the rick and morty show :3

A LION CUT FROM THE PRIDE “VA VE MAAN.” Issued by THE VISCOUNTY OF NOVKURSAIN On this 15th day of Vzmey ag Hyff of 499 E.S. HERE BE THE WORDS OF VISCOUNT WALTER WEISS, The Vikomital House of Weiss prides itself on tradition, duty, and familial bonds between members of our soldierly house. Such pride is one of the reasons we took the lion as our sigil. Like those beasts upon our sigil, we too believe deeply in loyalty to one’s family, for it is the very bedrock of who we are. It was my father, Ser Audo Weiss, who penned the Maxims of Pride: a simple codex that guides our family in all things, be that honor, duty, or humility before God. The First Maxim is thus: I. Unshakeable loyalty to the king, the family, and GOD shall be the foremost guides to all. We have found that Haus Weiss-Vuiller has fallen far short of that Maxim. A loyal servant to the king and good Canonist he surely is. However, he has been absent in the lives of his own children and his obligation to be at his wife’s side for quite some time. Exceptions can of course be made in many of our Maxims, but the First Maxim is one that can not be excused or forgiven should one find themselves in violation, for it is the very foundational pillar of not only our peerage, but our duties as citizens of Haense. It is with our greatest displeasure that I must impose the following: Haus Weiss-Vuiller shall henceforth be stripped of his Weiss name, and shall also be severed from the line of inheritance entirely. He may walk these lands as a Vuiller, or a Schwarz, so long as he does not claim the name of our house. His wife and children are loyal servants to the kingdom and proud members of our family and therefore shall remain most welcome by our hearth as Weiss-Vuiller and Weiss respectively. Krusae zwy Kongzem. IV JOVEO MAAN, The Honorable, Lord Walter León Weiss, Viscount of Novkursain, Baron of Zvaervauld, Lord of Staalgrav, Deputy Palatine, and Marian of the King’s Own Retinue. His Excellency, Ser Audo Weiss, Jovenaar of the Crown, Armiger of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, and Knight Paramount of the Order of the Crow Lord, Viktor Maximilian Weiss, Armsman of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl

"Duels are niet to be used as a shield for insubordination, surely." Walter Weiss mused as he read over the missive. "Ag since when is owning a construct considered slavery?!" He bawked. "They don't even have souls!"

Walter Weiss was delivered the missive during a carriage ride back to the gateway of the Highlands, the Viscounty of Novkursain. Ofcourse, a proud smile graced his countenance for his wife, and his family. Never before had their young house simultaneously held two positions upon the crown's Aulic Council. But then, his smile faded as he remembered Fabian. Of the aftermath of the fall of Almaris, when he was only a child of nine. When Marian came to rescue him from the caves of Failor and take him to the ranch that Fabian and company had built. There, he was not treated as a lord, but as a boy. He was taught to bake, dance, and labor by the Kortrevich. And Walter fondly remembered of how terrible of a student he was, yet Fabian was ever-patient. Those memories were bitter-sweet, a reminder of the cold-hearted killer Walter had become. He glanced out the window, into the blizzard as his carriage tumbled along the path to Novkursain and he considered for a moment if it would have been better if they could have remained on that pleasant ranch, hidden away from it all. All of this served as an ever-present reminder that time was marching ever-onward, and Walter despite all his strength was powerless in the face of it. Perhaps, he would visit Fabian in his retirement. He now more than ever needed guidance.

Walter Weiss was sat in his deputy palatine's office. He diligently worked to send missives and requisition forms to the appropriate arborists, whilst also placing an order for a new shipment of ferric axes. He looked out of the boarded window of the palace to gaze into the storm that continuously besieged the royal city. He lifted his current stack of papers to a thick journal that bore the symbol of his house. He opened it, and continued to make plans for the city as the flames of the hearth flickered beside him.

shit lore but werew0lf has kidnapped my dog and won't return him until I help him break his denial streak. +1

To His Holiness Sixtus V, I write to you to confirm the words of Mother Milena Franziska. Whilst these claims may seem at a glance the fanciful tall tales of a panic-stricken populace of a city under siege by a terrible storm - they are nevertheless true, may GOD bless us. I personally witnessed each of these incidents, save account IV. With only a touch and beckoning of the Lord God, my brother performed the miracles so described. I am willing to personally testify to the true nature of the claims made should inquiries be made as to their validity. As Sworn Before God and Before Peer, Lord Walter Leon Weiss, Viscount of Novkursain, Baron of Zvaervauld and Lord of Staalgrav