MrGarden

R

On a lab sat the old Duke of Vissingren as he read the notice while finishing the details of a animii eye. As he was setting the lenses, he read the first part, noticing the part of his conversation "Ich am happy du took mein words to ihr heart." He nodded as he set the lenses aside, reading the notice as it piqued his interest. "Du did gutte. Ich remember vhen du vere just ein boy, ze one zhat took charge vhen hope seemed lost. Du vere ze one to call for our people to unite und stand strong as one." He chuckled, remembering the old temporary castle Idunia offered for the Petrans to stay while they planned the counterattack on the chain enemies. "Und zhat we did under ihr command, but now das time du rest Archduke. Let zhe fruits of ze tree zhat du once planted bring new colors to Petra."

Year 2080 of Age of Mankind. ✺──────────────────────────────────✺ To all recipients, whether friend or stranger, noble or commoner, we greet you at the ceremony. It is a pleasure to announce that before GOD, gathered friends and family, within the hallowed sanctum of The Cathedral of Fifty Skulls, beneath its vaulted ceilings that echo with the prayers of generations, the two souls, Lord Marcel Benoît Devereux and Meredith Erzsebet de Senna shall be joined in holy matrimony on the upcoming year, 2080 of The Age of Mankind. In this joining, there is found not only the promise of companionship, but love and endurance as the strengthening of both bonds. The House Devereux, tempered in duty, military wise and standing as a pillar of steadfast leadership, while the House de Senna, refined in bearing the virtue, brings with it a legacy of elegance and enduring grace. Thus, in their union, both Houses and souls shall find their harmony. Where strength meets poise and ambition is tempered by devotion. Let all who bear witness understand this union is not merely a celebration but the unity of both souls that were done for each other. A union of love that shall bring prosperous generations for both families as they share the rest of their lives together in a bond blessed by GOD. ✺──────────────────────────────────✺ [!] A painting of the couple dancing under the stars in the vineyards of the Trier. ✺──────────────────────────────────✺ I N V I T A T I O N S Their Imperial Majesties, MARCUS I AND VALENTINA OF ASTURIAS, the Emperor and Empress of Azuras and The Imperial House of Horen His Royal Highness, Prince Edward Alstion II, Archduke of Alba, and His Noble Rentinue The Right Honorable, Lord George Dover III, 3rd Earl of Dover, and His Lordly Household Her Ladyship, Constance Devereux, Countess of Trier, and Her Esteemed House The Right Honorable, Lord Konstantin Augusten, 1st Earl of Konstanz, and His Lordly Household His Lordship, Lord Henri d'Artois, 2nd Baron of Artois, and His Lordly Household Her Ladyship, the Baroness-Regent of Owynsburg, Lady Susanna Augusta, and her Lordly Household His Lordship Rothwin Aldor, Master of Pedigree, and His Lordly Household His Lordship, Count of Edessa, Lord Erza de Senna, Archchancellor of the Empire, and Regent of the Empire and his Lordly Household His Lordship, Baron of Valcárion, Lord Alfonso Tomás Salazar and his Lordly Household Sir Everett of Alba, Knight-Commander of the Black Banner of Alstion, and all Knights and Enlisted Soldiery of the Black Banner Master Richard von Rhoswald, and His Esteemed Household Mister Haythem Bonvallet, and His Esteemed Household Personal invitations Their Imperial Highness, Titus Alexander and Vivienne Beatrice, Lady Luna Evangeline Salazar, Sir Leoni Corvus, Inku Vierto, Sir Janos Ivanovich, Lord Marcel Benoît Devereux, Lord Regent of The House Devereux. Lady Meredith Erzsebet de Senna

Thomas looked at the missive with a smile as he went to show it to his wive "See, right zhere, das mich und Dietrich!" He rested the flyer on the counter as he went back to continue his work on animii limbs

Henrique was sat on his study room as his trusty guard came rushing in with the flyer as he set it on his table. "Dios mios, Osirís, what put you in this state?" Henrique asked as his book fell to the ground "Senor, after all the love you gave them, they forget to invite the House Salazar." Osirís rose his hand resting it on his chest "Que?" The little boy grabbed his book with one hand resting it on the table as with the other he read the flyer checking all the families and the guest list. Upon no seeing his name the little boy could only give a shrug to his guard followed by a sigh "Probably just a mistake, do you know how busy the Tar and Tari are? That just means that we haven't been showing our name that much and it doesn't mean we won't be coming to it as it is our duty to be there. I am sure they acidentaly just forgot it." His brow twitched as the boy continued to read waiving his hand for the guard to leave "I am sure it was only that, lo siento for bothering you senor." He chuckled as he left the room.

Henrique would be in his room, reading the new book he acquired as his loyal Bannerman came knocking at the door. "Sí, it's open." He said as the Bannerman enter giving him the flyer. He nodded, reading the words on the paper, grinning and showing it to the fishy "Padre is on the lead now. I wonder what the future holds for us." The little Lordling swung his feet in his chair as he continued to read. On the opposite side of the Azuras, a nameless cowboy read the missive that was dropped from a crow. He chuckled as he finished, "FINALLY, ya'll do something for me. Here I was thinking that I was being forgotten." He continued to read as he went to the part of Alfonso, "Estoy muy orgulloso de ti, sobrino." The cowboy spoke as he continued to ride where his spirit took him. He whistled a song as he rode.

Sir Thomas fell to the ground as the mage teleported away and their battle ended. The air around the corredor carried Thomas aura and the cold breeze of Sereven spells. The Mage Knight could only call forth a flame to warm himself and remove some of the ice that formed around his body and face. "Gott. Ich haven't had ein fight like zhis in ages, du have mein fully respect Mage." He bowed his head trying to calm down and set his mana back to normal as his companions came rushing to aid him. He laughed removing some of the icicles from the wall and throwing at one of the Soldier "Du are all late. Und du vouldn't had be able to do anyzhing towards ein Mage on zhat scale." He spoke grasping the soldiers hand as he helped him get up and walk as he went to celebrate the new victory with the rest of the soldiers on the rooftop.

There's some cool stories from my old characters but the one that I really like and to this day I keep watching the video is this one. The fuckass 95 old Matthew Galken and his best fried Bon'Ox, helping retrieving Petra from the world event boar mist that took over their city. Matthew wielding a two handed Boomsteel war hammer and sending a hexed cannonball towards the mist and damaging it a lot!. But not once BUT TWICE!!! And Bon'Ox able to hold them and throwing them up as if they were beach balls, and ******* mojo rolling a 15 and a 20 on the second throw. As always I have to thank @MrMojoMordor& @Zemzy_Oakheartfor the help in rp and zemzy for the whole Idea!!! [Also credit to mojo for the amazing video!!] Then is also Matthew and his hate towards dwarfs and him making two metal ologs turn into pancakes with one swing. As he was the one who open the path for everyone to go aid Queen Catherine I even though she died there. @Crypticremembers this one And my favorite Duke aura farming on the world event as he killed the ones that dare to try and break his castle

What was your favorite character until now and what was your most epic move in crp or anything in Lotc?

MY critters: Bolt-Tequila-Simba-Nico-Olivia-cucu-sebastian

A sudden fog rose within in Virú as a tall figure appears, traces of his poncho and hat were all that the citizens would see. He carried some boxes to make sure to clean and grab his belongings before departing to never come back. As he walked to the house, he could sense the tension that layed around. The feeling of sorrow and sadness, but he decided to ignore it as of now, all that he had in his mind was the memories he shared with his family. He walked across the corridors, placing his hand on the walls. "I will miss ya'll" he said as he made his way towards Alfonso's door. He stopped sighing as if he was gaining courage "If ye had the courage to ask her in marriage, why can't you do this?" He glanced at the iron door that stood on the side of the wooden one, pondering what had happened for him to remove his sign. Yet, he shook his head, it didn't matter now; as his mistakes and decisions were made, and final. So, with that in mind, he opened the door, praying to see his nephew's face one last time. One last time to tell him goodbye and ask for forgiveness of lying to him and his family, but nothing. No sound, no animal. All that was around was a sleeping baby, the one that he refused to meet, so he couldn't lie to one more of his kin. He nodded and walked towards the table, noticing a paper. He knew that his nephew was a writer and even did a poem to an old Salazar. For a second, he thought it was just a simple letter to the Lord Paramount, but upon reading, the figure collapsed. Words that he didn't hear in a while and feelings that he didn't know were hitting him like the sword that took his mortal life. But as said, he was no mortal anymore, and so he left, making sure to stop by the barns to say goodbye to the one that was by his side since he came to this new land. Pedro became unstable upon seeing the figure, as if to him, no matter how much he hid himself, the bull would know its owner. Pedro would only calm down once the figure entered it's enclosure. "To you my dearest friend, I leave our family to protect. To be by their side when I can't anymore. The same way you protected me, do it to them too, por favor. May our destiny cross one last time when both of us are set free from this cursed world. Even when you were a calf and I trained you, it was never a task, as with you I could be myself. You knew me, and were with me wherever I went...and to that, I thank you, Pedro." It's eyes open wide, as if it was understanding this was the last time seeing his owner. The figure removed his hat, resting his head on the bull's muzzle. No more words or gestures were needed. To the citizens of Virú that were on the street, they would see the fog rising once more as the figure walked across. A nameless cowboy with his poncho and hat was all they could see, as his whistle could be heard across the whole of Virú.

YEAR 2069 Of the Age of Mankind. The final Destiny. The tavern had long since quieted to a low murmur by the time Mauricio allowed himself to sit. Candlelight flickered against the wood-paneled walls, casting warm gold across scarred tables and half empty mugs. Laughter lingered in distant corners, softened by drink and late hour weariness. The smell of spiced wine and smoke clung to the air. He sat apart from the others, not in isolation, never quite that but in the way commanders do when they carry too much to fully join the noise. A dark glass rested in his hand, untouched for several moments before he finally lifted it. The whiskey caught the candlelight like blood beneath flame. He rolled it slowly between his fingers, watching the surface shift. Outside the window, the moon hung full and pale as his gaze drifted to it often. Silver light spilled through the glass panes and brushed across his features, softening the severity of them. In that light, he looked less like a Knight and more like something older, something that remembered centuries instead of years. He took a slow drink. The tavern door opened briefly, a rush of cold air slipping inside before fading again, he did not turn. He had felt colder winds. His thoughts were not on war. Not fully. They were on legacy. In his family’s traditions the weight of honor carried from lands far across the sea. On oaths spoken beneath cathedral arches and desert skies. On the meaning of standing when others could not. He traced the rim of the glass with his thumb. The moonlight brightened as a cloud passed. There was a stillness in him tonight, not peace, no, not quite that, but acceptance. As if something inevitable had already been decided. He whispered softly, just loud enough for himself "Hoy es el día." The word lingered in the air finishing the drink in one steady motion. And kept watching the moon. When the tavern had emptied enough to no longer require his presence, Mauricio rose without ceremony. He set a few coins upon the counter, then reached for his hat where it rested beside the bottles. The brim was worn, shaped by habit and years. He turned it once in his hands before placing it upon his head, shadow falling over his eyes. Outside, the night greeted him in full. His bull waited where he had left it, massive and steady, breath curling faintly in the cool air. Mauricio mounted without a word, the leather saddle creaking softly beneath his weight. The city gates loomed ahead, torches flickering gold against stone. He did not look back. The hooves struck the road in slow, deliberate rhythm as they left the city behind. Stone gave way to dirt. Dirt to grass, the walls faded into silhouette. The moon rode high above him. Silver light spilled across his poncho, catching the deep folds of fabric and tracing along the edge of steel beneath. For a fleeting second, when he lifted his face to the sky, the starlight caught his eyes red glinting faintly like embers before dimming again beneath the brim of his hat. The forest line approached, dark and patient. As he passed beneath its edge, the sounds changed. Wind through leaves. Distant night birds. The steady exhale of the bull. Then. . . A second rhythm, subtle and measured. It was not the wind. Mauricio did not turn immediately. He let the sound repeat. Once, twice, letting it follow him. He eased the bull to a stop in a small clearing where moonlight pierced through the canopy in pale shafts. The world felt suspended there, quiet, waiting. He knew he was far enough now. Far enough from the city, far enough from witnesses. His gloved hand rested briefly along the pommel of his saddle, the time had come, slowly, he turned his head. The stars reflected across the faint gleam of his armor beneath the poncho. The clearing seemed to hold its breath. For the briefest moment, the red in his eyes surfaced again not anger, not hunger but certainty. He did not reach for his weapon, simply poking into the dark. "Ya es hora." And waited for the figure to step forward. The trees shifted first, not loudly just enough. Mauricio’s eyes adjusted without effort. Where the night was thick and shapeless to mortal sight, he saw movement between trunks. The outline of steel. The pale flash of a blade being repositioned. The breath of horses held back in shadow. Not one. Several, the bull beneath him exhaled low, sensing it too. From the dark edge of the clearing, a horse stepped forward, hooves pressing softly into fallen leaves. Its rider dismounted before the animal had fully stilled. The leader walked into the moonlight with unhurried confidence, boots heavy against the forest floor. His face was partly shadowed, but Mauricio saw clearly the scar at the jawline, the tired eyes of a man who had killed before and would again. The others remained in the treeline, watching. The leader stopped a few paces away. He gave Mauricio a small, almost amused smile. "Well now…Capitáin, isn’t it?" Mauricio did not move nor responded. The leader tilted his head slightly. "Didn’t expect to find you riding alone at this hour. No escort. No banners." He glanced at the bull. "Interesting choice of mount." Mauricio 's voice was calm. "La noche no me preocupa." The bandit chuckled. "No. I suppose it wouldn't." He shifted his weight, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Funny thing about reputations. They say you’re hard to kill. Say you’ve walked away from worse than this.” Mauricio’s red eyes glinted faintly as a cloud drifted from the moon. "They say many things, but are you willing to find out if it is true or not?" The leader studied him a moment longer then slowly raised one hand. The subtle tension in the trees tightened. Steel adjusted. Bows steadied. But the leader waved them back with a lazy flick of his fingers. "I’ll take this one." A murmur of protest from the shadows. He didn’t look at them. "I said I’ve got him!" The forest quieted again. He stepped closer into full moonlight now, boots crossing into the pale clearing. Close enough to see the faint reflection of starlight across Mauricio’s poncho. Close enough to notice, just for a second, the unnatural gleam in his eyes. The leader’s smile thinned. "So tell me, Capitáin. What brings a man like you this far from his walls?" Mauricio held his gaze. Still mounted, unmoving. "All men must face their destiny." The wind stirred between them. The leader’s fingers tightened slightly at his sword hilt. "And is that what this is?" Mauricio slowly slid one boot from the stirrup. The bull shifted beneath him as he dismounted with deliberate calm, boots touching earth. The clearing seemed smaller now. "Eso depende de ti." The clearing held its breath. The leader studied Mauricio more carefully now that they stood on equal ground. Moonlight carved sharp lines across both men, one draped in poncho and quiet authority, the other in road-worn leather and earned suspicion. "You don’t look afraid." the leader said softly. Mauricio removed his gloves slowly, finger by finger. "Fear is for those who doubt it." A faint ripple of unease passed through the men in the treeline. They could not see what their leader saw, the way Mauricio’s eyes reflected light like an animal’s… or something older. The leader exhaled through his nose."I’ve killed knights before." Mauricio tilted his head slightly. "Yo también." The wind shifted. For a moment, neither moved. Then. . . Steel whispered free from its sheath. The leader drew first lunging at him, fast and direct, testing. Mauricio stepped aside with unnatural precision. The blade passed so close it sliced the edge of his poncho, fabric drifting to the ground. He did not counterattack. He was measuring. The leader turned sharply, striking again but heavier this time. Mauricio caught the blade with his forearm guard. Sparks flashed. The impact echoed through the clearing. From the treeline, tension spiked. "Boss!" "Stay back!" the leader barked. Mauricio moved then, not with fury but with control. He disarmed the man in three motions, twist, step, strike! The sword spun into the dirt several feet away. In one fluid shift, Mauricio had him by the collar, forearm across his throat, strength unmistakable. He could end it now. The leader’s pulse thundered against Mauricio’s grip. Mauricio leaned close, voice low enough that only he could hear. "Listen carefully." The man struggled slightly, then stilled. "Tonight you win." Confusion flickered across the leader’s face. Mauricio’s eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "The city needs a Capitáin who can fall. It needs to believe I am mortal." The leader’s breathing faltered. "You’re mad!" Mauricio’s grip tightened just enough to remind him who held power. "No!" A pause "Estoy cansado de este acto." Behind them, one of the bandits shifted. Mauricio’s head tilted slightly, he could hear the heartbeat of each man in the trees. Smell their sweat, their fear. He released the leader abruptly and stepped back. And did something unexpected. He lowered his guard. The leader stared at him. "What are you doing?" Mauricio spread his arms slightly, open stance. "Making it convincing." The bandit leader hesitated, this was wrong, every instinct screamed it was wrong. But pride… reputation… the chance to be the man who defeated the Capitaín… Slowly, he retrieved his sword. Mauricio did not move, the blade pierced through his side, clean and deliberate. His body jerked not from pain, but calculation. He allowed himself to fall to one knee. Blood, dark and thick, spilled onto the forest floor. The treeline erupted in shocked murmurs. The leader pulled the blade free, stunned by how easily it had entered. Mauricio looked up at him. Even wounded… there was no fear. Only something ancient. He leaned in for one final time. "When you tell this story. Say I fought like a monster!" A faint smile touched his lips."And that I bled like a man." His strength faded and visibly as he collapsed onto his side. The moonlight caught his red eyes one last time dimming. Silence. . . The bandits slowly emerged from the trees, staring in disbelief. Their leader stood over the fallen Commander, chest rising fast. He had won! He had actually won! But as the men began to gather, and one reached down to check the body. A wind moved through the clearing, cold and heavy. The horses began to panic."Boss!" The leader turned. Mauricio’s body was still there. Then. It wasn’t. Only blood remained dark against the earth and hoofprints leading nowhere. Far above, clouds drifted across the moon. And somewhere deeper in the forest…Something moved. After the blade had struck and the performance had been made convincing. The bandits withdrew with hurried breath and trembling pride. They believed the story already. When the forest reclaimed its stillness, he rose again. Slowly. The wound had sealed enough for him to stand, though blood still darkened the soil. His hand pressed briefly against his side not from weakness, but from habit. The moon watched in patient silence as he walked deeper into the trees. Far enough that even vampire sight could no longer see the clearing through the density of trunks and gathering mist, there, beside an ancient oak, he paused. From within his poncho, he withdrew folded parchment already written. He had prepared them before leaving the tavern. The ink was steady, deliberate. No rushed strokes. No trembling lines. Letters to those he loved. To comrades who had stood at his side! To a family whose traditions still lived in his bones! To one or two who would understand more than the rest! He did not weep but he allowed himself a long breath as he reread a final line beneath the moonlight. He folded them carefully and slid them into the leather pouch fastened to his bull’s saddle. The great animal stood waiting, calm as ever, dark eyes reflecting starlight. Mauricio rested his forehead briefly against the bull’s."Vuelve a casa, Pedro." The bull exhaled softly, as if understanding. With a gentle turn, he sent him back toward the road, toward the city gates, carrying the letters that would confirm what the forest would soon whisper. A fallen Capitáin! A heroic defeat! A monster slain! The mist thickened as It rolled low across the forest floor, curling around tree roots and swallowing moonlight in pale veils. Mauricio stepped backward into it, poncho blending with shadow, red eyes dimming beneath the brim of his hat. For one final second, the stars caught against the faint steel at his side. Then, nothing. No hoofprints, no sound, no lingering silhouette between the trees, only fog. And the legend of a Capitaín who fought like a monster and bled like a man.

SMOL WAS THEIR BEST PICK FOR IT!