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About Frostdrop1

  • Birthday 07/20/1996

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  • Character Name
    Audo Weiss
  • Character Race
    Human, Highlander

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  1. Long aware of what he once considered false rumours - lies - a far-off once-brother let the missive simmer in his mind. Of all his betrayals and falsehoods, of all the atrocities personal and otherwise of the magi known only by his non-lost name 'Haus', none were so terrible as what he had done to his family time and time again. A traitor. A deceiver. A monstrosity. There was no brother in Haus, and once more the man's trust had failed him in a manner which tore the him apart to an irreparable degree; there had to be something he was doing wrong to earn Iblees' black favour for no God had ever seen him protected and what was good was lost. Taking hold of a letter with a rotting scrap of flesh attached - attention caught by the sinful name upon the page - a far-off once-brother peered on the note with disdain. With a gutteral snarl unto himself, he released the page to let it drift to the floor. Carelessly, his foot stomped upon it as he marched on in his journey.
  2. Reverence of War To the masses who endorse and take respite in the artistry of words, herein lies the thoughts and passings of what is otherwise a lost soul. Although the time of war has since passed, it readily consumed the innocence of my childhood - or, perhaps, that was left to some wayside long ago. Regardless of such ideals and musings, here is published my two finished war-works - Covenant versus the scourge of Veletz and Stassion - to make of what you will. Now these times, my thoughts, inner self and emotions have moved to linger upon another topic that I shall see drawn to its conclusion by one course of action or another. Our Peace has No Sorrow What do you do with a lecherous rat, Lusting and grasping and pulling for more, All is comfy until it sees the cat, Down then comes the lair as all have before. Where there is one it is seldom alone, Swamped by avaricious, black-cladded souls, A dire core of corruption crumbles a throne: Retribution for the hurt to console. Lo, Death does act swift and Death can act just, Who imprints on our holy souls: embossed, Lo, Death is cruel and Death we distrust, Shall I shed false tears for all that is lost? No. Hand in hand, let us see tomorrow! To me hold tight; our peace has no sorrow. March of the Liqour’d A party of trouble o’er in Veletz, One man was tipsy on whiskey, He cried ‘Damn it - down with ‘em, Lads!’ And out they sallied for kingsey! Merry was Valdev, life founded anew, Carrion flowed as melody, Festive and lively all gleeful were they, And they danced for kingsey! Down in the desert, orcs weighted their clubs, One man cried plea, Red in the face; loud they laughed: ‘What you want, pinkie?’ Hooting his hollow, haughty howls: “What they lack is honesty: Treason and strong-arming, Nothing of ours, we truly guarantee!” TThe party of trouble was now of two, One man and one orc did cooee, ‘Come with us - down with ‘em, Lads!’ And out they marched for kingsey! Knock, knock! Was the sound of Orc, And of Man on elvish entry, ‘Open you knife-ears, we need of you now!’ The armies called their lackey. Out poked a head, pale and withdrawn, ‘Um, sorry are we, As you can see, We are clearly busy!’ Without an ally, the group waddled on, To battle their enemy, All donning their pig-iron a rattle ensues, So at Breakwater and Brasca they flee. Westmark was won with glitz and with glam, But a war ought not be showy, So Fortune was quick to turn on her heels, To those with austerity. Hippo’s Gorge was a slaughter, And stassion was erased, Drusco was taken with fervor, And Easworth was - empty! Around a table men did sit, Their homes free of debris, ‘This is our peace!’ so sang they, And safely grinned kingsey. Let old demons sleep where they lay in death, and let the future rise anew. With these publishings, I cast myself fully into my new purpose in justice. Krusae zwy kongzem; Va ve Maan
  3. Somewhere, a hapless father camps, too, under the unfeeling stars. Without rest, his mind wanders to the lost and the future. No longer content to be enclosed in the depths of a lonely city, a daughter takes blade to the wilderness and bow to the wildlife. And then, for hours, hands gloved and daintily folded she waited at the mouth of Valdev's bridge. In future days, she brought blank books on which to write as her heart grew heavy.
  4. Ser Audo Weiss, The Raven, having stood long and steadfast in Valdev peered on the missive with some disbelief. It took him time to gather his thoughts. Many were missing, or dead. Time changed and all that consumed his world anymore was war - always the same. And this hateful wretch is now what waited at home. Everything his father had built would come to be lost, everything he had built would come to be lost. Lowering the paper slowly, his gaze turned back to cast over his empty office and empty home. In the street, barely a friendly word was rattled to him in earnest any more beyond Walter. Slim, he wrenched his gaze to his quill, before he began to write in the chicken-scratch to which he'd become accustomed.
  5. "...Kings are leaders in their own right." Ser Audo muttered, "Though ea would be truly surprised if we saw as greater queen as Amaya again." He folded the paper, smirking to himself fondly at the memory of the strange spider-girl. How far that strange little girl had come.
  6. Ser Audo Weiss was glad, certainly, to see the king returned well. Of course, in his absence had been troubles and he hoped he still had the heart to face them thoroughly.
  7. The options for tackling this rule are insufficient. Cities should not have a combat lock: Cities theoretically would have lots of guards. We are not guards, but LOTC enjoyers who are not all on all the time nor do we all want to do guard rp all the time. Guards act as a deterrant to crime. An unlimited combat lock within cities (or, at least, capital cities because this would be clearer so people can't argue their towns or villages are cities) would equally be a deterrant for crime. It's very dumb that guards, too, cannot guard rp when they want to if they happen to arrive at a fight too late. Kind of defied the point of being a guard or having them at all. Outside of cities, 15 minutes is not sufficient. Most will take maybe 10 minutes or so to rally. Let's say its a minute to ring the bell. It's then maybe 3 minutes to boot up and load in, assuming you don't have any loading issues or run into any chunks. You then need to continue to wait because those 4 minutes are only if everyone drops everything irl immediately because LOTC!!!!! and it's going to take maybe 5 minutes for people to wrap things up? So most time is spent just rallying. If you have someone - dare you even try - rp during that time you may need to wait on emotes. How dare you rp on my faction server!!! And then maybe you'll get the chance to ride out - although that person that told you about the fight that ran to the city probably took a few minutes so the combat lock is probably done anyway. How fun - and this has been the typical experience I've had minus the people that dare to bandit literally right outside of the gate. However, I do think "wild combat" per se does require a combat lock. Your fight could be very long and the longer a fight runs, the more time it takes for people to join to the point where it might become silly. I would say the lock should be 30 minutes given that this is a rp server but I'm also more on the I would like to emote well side, rather than just rush there. Either way, it should be longer but not indefinite.
  8. Ser Audo "The Raven" leant himself upon the wall of Valdev, peering from the arrow slats. A smoke in hand, he took a drag from it before gently exhaling the wisps to float away. Turning his gaze down, he graced his ungauntleted fingers over the middling pages of a leather-bound book. Raising his hand to the top corner, he gently tapped on a mana seal. "So many people in one place and yet there was silence." The feminine, familiar voice of the late Princess Veronica chimed from the book, read like a fairy-tale. For as many wars as he had seen - to see the start, and the end of the conflict which had arisen in his younger years gave some closure. It gave closure to the fears he had to come to understand. It gave closure to many years of tension and paranoia. It gave closure to the loss - both indirect, and personal. For as much as it took - a bigger threat had been quelled and, for what it was worth, mankind had a chance at peace. "Our peace." He muttered, before chuffing quietly. "...Va ve Maan."
  9. Ser Audo Weiss gave a chuff at the missive. Adria, Veletz - what was the difference in a name? "Evil merely twists and hides its outer appearance. Little beneath that can change." He raised his gaze outward over the walls of Veletz. War had never changed - an endless void of loss, and death, and pain - yet, this was he desired to continue to march out of a personal need - retirement be damned.
  10. Ser Audo Weiss ran a cloth over his poleaxe, Wustenlowe, which had stood as a companion to him for many years. Another battle with the enemy, and more avenged for their lives taken all too soon. He turned his gaze to his copy of Song of the Black, briefly grazing his hand over the cover as as the after-math meloncholy settled in his chest. He huffed in a breath, at least finding some contentment in fighting by the sides of his friends, and family for the peace that had long been desired. Each battle was one he spent in another place, and every before-battle was pent looking out for the preparation of others. Each battle left him with fewer equipment to his name and, yet, his kingdom the richer - for everyone was in this together. But there was no rest, not yet. The war was not yet won for those lost in the Order, and those lost to himself.
  11. Ser Audo Weiss grimaced as he heard the news. Singled away in the confines of the tower, he strode himself through the hall of busts, stopping before Ser Andrik's. Lifting his hands, he removed his helmet and set it aside. "Vy were rash, with a mouth than ran faster than vyr mind." He stated, with a solemn gruffness as the young face of Andrik var Ruthern, the boy lined up among men. Deeply, he inhaled. "Yet, vy always served. Perhaps if things had been different, we might have seen more eye-to-eye. Rest well, Borsa. Vy have earned it." Lowly, he bowed his head before he signed the hussariyan, attended by none but the lifeless busts.
  12. Ser Audo Weiss, the Knight Paramount, was proud and glad to be a nobody with many other nobodies. And, too, was he glad to leave many a Veletz soul with no body inhabit.
  13. Ser Audo Weiss traipsed his way back to his family through the slog of the battlefield, his armour scraped, dented and ruined from his various falls and recoveries within the battle. What injuries were upon him, part grave, would heal in time. And yet, he lived the day and his desire for vengeance for Her Highness, Veronica was sated.
  14. Ser Audo Weiss sat in the dimly lit games basement of their - his - Valdev home. He took up the couch, laid across it as his arm draped over the side with a lifeless stillness as his gaze searched the ceiling for something of note. His unnatural gaze glowered as it always did, unforgiving and untelling of the mind behind them. Raising his arm, he brought his hand to his lips and, with them, a cigarette - a habit he'd given up many years ago. Holding the wisps for a moment, he gently huffed the swirled into the stale air. How long ago had it been since they met, on that ballroom floor? How long ago had it been since her quinceanera? How long had it been since their wedding? How long had it been since the twins were born? How long had it been since they said they would travel? The Paramount's gaze slimmed before it slid over the poorly-kept room. How happy he had been here - with her, whom cared for him so overtly, so unceasingly, when he could barely care for himself. It didn't matter whether he was loved, or hated and he had certainly bee everything in between. She was there. And now it was empty. For some time, her lack of return is something he'd known the worst of, and from then he merely waited confirmation. War was his life. Loss came with it. In public, all he need do was maintain appearances and do the duty that had devoured so much of his life. In private, he mourned. Upstairs, unopened Tuvsmas gifts sat upon the table, untouched. To the side, upon the table now thick with dust, sat a carefully folded letter with a broken seal and a fresh marigold laid across it. ~~~ Felyska simmered on the news. At first she didn't understand, and then she rejected it. And then she cried for the grandma that didn't judge her. And then she was angry. Never would she forgive those who took her family away.
  15. Ser Audo Weiss was adamant and firm in that he could have helped his son, had only he known. Death was no stranger - he knew it well. He saw his brothers and sisters come to die, his father, too, and now, in some twisted sense of norm, his son of whom he was so proud. Stanislaw was The Golden Baby of Karosgrad. A miracle since his birth. Although, as his father, Audo always saw the baby boy he was. He remmeber the days Stanislaw came down, play-fighting him in the halls of the original Staalgrav. He remembered the boy who odd, strange little occurances happened around - and the one who feared those strange happenings. He remembered comforting and guiding him. He remembered the mastery he gained and how proud he always was each time Stanis used his blessing for good and, even, just for a joke. He rememebered the times they drunk together - and the times they had to say goodbye. And now, to add, a final goodbye. He crumpled the note left to him and Veronica. "Ea didn't think that way of vy..." He croaked, having isolated himself. Promptly, with indecision, he unscrunched the letter and, instead, carefully folded it to keep. "...Ea dear boy. Va ve Maan..."
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