confusedjester

In the Skies, the grandmother of Llyw was baffled. She may have been run over by a few horses in her life, and she might’ve been dead, but atleast she could spell a four letter word correctly…

[The drawing depicted the SERGEANT SEBASTIAN infront of his HOSTAGE, JESSTOR :( ) Hey FOOLS! It is I... Sergeant Sebastian! You probably know me already... This time... I have caught the world's most WHIMSICAL jester! If you want her back in one piece give me 250 minas!!! No more no less! Well... If you want to give more... Up to you... Gyah ha ha ha ha! I will start sending parts of her ridiculous hat if you take too much... Come alone!!! Whoever comes… -Sergeant Sebastian, expert in deception and handsomeness The Jesstor that everyone knows and loves, STRUGGLED in her bindings as BLOOD poured from her forehead! The second time this week, was she shackled by enemies, but this time- SHE WAS ACTUALLY FRIGHTFUL, at the threat of her dear, dear hat! "Ouh... this is NOT GOOD..."

The news was not received well. The Heiress held the letter within trembling mitts, a blurry gaze cast over those final scribes from the woman she called mother. In her dimly lit room, did Einin sink to her knees, shoulders sagged, pressing that letter to her dome. A girl would sob- mournful, anguished cries from the depths of her soul, out into the suffocating air. As her heart ached, did she press her head to the floorboards, mumbling to herself. Distraught, sorrowed, and pained, did Einin murmur. The sun would set, and the room would grow cold. The wicks of the candles then would snuff out. -------------------------------- Cleome's eyes traced the paper. Her red brows rose, high to her head. It was shock, at first- her mother, a woman she believed would live forever, and ever- now dead, with nothing to show for it except this singular piece of parchment. She inhaled- then exhaled, a rocking on her heels, anxiously, before her feet carried her to find.... Not her brother- but her father.

The Keen Royal then curled her lip at the news. As the likelihood of marriage and children slipped away for Heilwig, she focused her sights elsewhere. The title of 'Aunt' was a strange new label, having no idea what babies or children even like. The Princess stood sheepishly over a toy store counter, trying to decide what to gift the new Keen babe.

The acolyte Jorna mourned!! “OH, WOE!” She cried, into the unforgiving night- despite her dramatics, those feelings of hers were very real- truly indeed. From her humble beginnings of a birdgirl, turned HOLY WOMAN, Alaric had been a close compatriot. A horrible, horrible loss… —— In a far, far far FAR off land, did a certain ‘ker catch wind of her favorite Cardinal’s death. “Poor Cards…” The elfess murmured…

The Keen Royal read the missive once, gaze falling elsewhere as she gardened. She had been apart of the siege and the bloodshed, and not a stranger to gore was she, but there was something in her this time- something ruminating behind that creased brow. Was the world truly Empire or Nothing? Heilwig could only wonder, which nation was next. Only seven to go.

Einin glowered at the missive upon its delivery, tongue retaining hundreds of snide replies, though none were said just then. She merely crumpled the missive to her forehead and slumped against her door with angry grumbles and mumbles spoken under her breath. A cartoonish tornado swirl appeared above her head, and steam from her ears! Einin opted for laying across the floor like a starfish, face hidden against the floorboards.

Einin O'Rourke gazed upon the missive with a frown. "Eeehgh.... they're back..."

Joan had completely forgotten about the ball- now scrambling at the last minute, digging through her sisters closet. "I CANT FIND NOTHIN'!" She screeched, as dress after dress after dress failed to meet the small Devereux' standards. "Ohmymgod, WE AIN' GON' MAKE IT, LUCI!- KEEP DIGGIN!!!!"

The Keen Royal studied her personal invitation with a raise of her brow. Whether she would attend or not was to be decided upon the day, she concurred.... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Joan scrunched her nose ever so slightly at the mention of her dearest sister, Lucienne. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously- yet she knew the reason all the same. On the other side of her mind, she feared that a WARDSHIP meant never seeing Luci ever AGAIN- and thus, Joan Devereux SHUDDERED. She prayed such would naught be the case. Joan shoved the invite back into her mother's mailbox, and went back to making mud-pies during rainfall.

As news reached the Greye-O'Rourke, her slowly shoulders fell in mourn. Memories of Balian, memories of Amathine, and memories of her wedding- Johanna had been constant- a figure always there, when many left her times before. Einin would grieve later. Instead, she rose from her position under the White Tree of Ildon, to seek out her husband. She could only pray Johanna was resting easy in the Skies, free from a breaking, crumbling world.

A small ginger Wick's nose scrunched! "Atleast I'd rather be friends with RATS than demons and betrayers..."

Joan was busy eating a pigeon on a stick as the missive was picked up by the breeze, landing at her feet. The street-urchin wrapped a mitt around the parchment- having been learning to read! Her eyes began to trace the missve... "Oh, ma'h names in here alot! I must be super popular..." She really thought she was hitting it off with the locals now, if they were writing papers about her... Joan continued!- then she choked on a piece of pigeon meat as she... "Wh.. wh- WHAT?!?/!?/?!??@!//!?"

A small ginger Wick cheered! "WE ARE NOT DONE YET!!!!!!"

The little Wick smiled devilishly... "Mwhahahahaha.... MWAH HAH HAH HAH HAHHHhhh..."

In the earliest days of their youth, the Sun and the Sea were utterly inseparable. Einin-Alweth O’Rourke, the Fairy of the O’Rourke’s, the Lily of Ildon, and Aurus Edmond Greye, the Greyehound, finally come together in HOLY MATRIMONY. After their friendship was put to the test, as nations battled and swords clashed, did the kindred spirits remain steadfastly loyal to one another. This perseverance, this commitment, then blossomed into a love unwavering. The long-awaited union of the Sun and the Sea shall take place in the Bastion Temple of Saint King Caius in the capital of Numenost. Succeeding the ceremony, a reception will be held in Lotharia, vassal of the Krug, for drinking games, darts, and casual chatter. (sry if i forgot a title :C) General Invitation His Pious Majesty, Tar-Anorhil Carandir of Numendil and his royal pedigree Lothar Basileus, Prince of Lotharia, His Royal Consort, and royal pedigree High Lady of Ildon, Lady Maeril Emigliana O’Rourke, Matriarch of House O’Rourke Sir Aurellius Greye, Baron of Erythra Nadya Barbanov-Bihar, Hesir of the Karoslund, Her Consort, and pedigree The Noble House of O’Rourke The Noble House of Greye The Noble House of Wick The Noble House of Marsyrs The Noble House of Glennmaer The Noble House of Vourkehardt The Noble House of Colborn The Noble House of Vuiller The Noble House of de Lyons The Noble House of d’Arkent The Noble House of Temesch The Noble House of Jazlowiecki The Citizenry of Numendil The Citizenry of Lotharia Personal Invitations His Eminence, Cardinal Alaric Father Thomas Her Highness, Princess Azruphel-Corweth of Numendil His Highness, Ser Nathannenel Eruedraith Her Lordship, Lord Russandiel Wick Her Excellency, Athaenis Vourkehardt His Grace, Archduke Therin Temesch of the Petra The Right Honorable, Countess Mattea Asadha of the Petra Ser Arthur Marsyr Amon Vourkehardt Lady Eislyn O’Rourke Victor Rorin Johanna, Sir Jean-Clement, and Laurence Vuiller Lady Lenora de Senna Lady Aera de Senna Navalic and Arianwen of White River Lilia of White River Richard Von Rhoswald Archon Emaelia Drakon Dima Kortrevich Yelizaveta Mahaut Louna Marie Moryana Amador Peter Weiss Svala Bluefern Ser Hart of the Petra Hummingbird Kathryn of Rhen Malna Sir Theo Lyons Adriana Rosalind Temesch Alysanna Rustova and Her Children Scyzczmir Jazlowiecki Aled Rissa Luciiael Ruby Heymor Grimbol Grobol Sascha Juniper Old Man Hanzo Mary-Anne OOC:

Cleome CHEERED for her mother!!! "IF THERES a WICK there a WAY!!!!"

[News spread of the Vourkehardt's passing...] :( ignore the fucked up formatting i cant fix it ;c ============================================================================================================================================================= “You dangle at the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.” ============================================================================================================================================================= As the night grew cold, did Anneliese Vourkehardt grow still. Having kept herself buried in her chambers for years past, with only short visits into the outside world, did her mind grow restless, yearning for freedom. Freedom of what? Freedom to live? Or the freedom of death? Anne knew naught, but she knew it was her last day. Her health waned. Her body, once strong, grew tired. Every movement accompanied with an ache, a machine left untreated. Her mind, once sharp, now dulling once more. She spent her last day out of her room, steps slow, as a braid amassing eleven-feet dangled from her head, dragging along the ground. Anne had never cut it, not once. She never would. It was a symbol, a token, to remember her ancestors, her parents, who passed away long ago. It carried within its weaves the memories of her father, bright and sunny, and her mother, clouded, unpredictable as a wave. Their life. And their death. It held first-greetings, Ani meeting Baldric for the very first time in Reinmar. Meeting Wernher, meeting Valeska. Horrors woven in, Stein’s body burning, charred, fleshy smoke billowing above the crowd. Eduard’s head, rolling off the gallow in a heap of torn muscle. The braid contained heartbreak, when her beloved betrayed her over, and over, and over again. Weakness, as she forgave. Over. and Over. and Over again. Weight, of sunken shoulders, as she failed. In being a wife, in being a mother, in being a sister and a daughter. Over. And over. And over again. The braid grew longer, intertwined with the fate of a life lived in sorrows and shadows, in haunts and confusion, as her mind took a toll, rotting inside her head. Gray strands appeared. Her fiery locks stained with dull hues. It was as her youth began to wrinkle, did she reflect. Memories, not nightmares, not horrors… Her wedding day. The happiest day of her life. The day her children were born. A new purpose bestowed. Talking with her sister. Every word was remembered. Dean. The man she should've married. Meeting her grandchildren. A sign that Anneliese could rest easy. A finality that she was no longer alone. — She spent that day speaking to her son, cradling his face, observing his ashen hues a final time. Her beautiful son, now grown into man, scars blemishing his skin. She spent that day further in Agrenost, speaking briefly with her beloved sister. Briefly, only briefly. Finally, she spent that evening in the presence of faces, new and old, at a small dinner. Her final fast had come to an end. Anne had a slice of pie, the last thing to ever grace her tongue. It was odd to sit there, lonely in the knowledge that she would be faded away by sunrise. But Anne sat, and smiled, enjoying the lasting cacophony of small talk. It was simple. Peaceful. Her steps thereafter carried her back to Caladras. She gazed upon the castle, dragging a pallid hand across the grooves of the stone as she neared the gate. Anne entered, taking graceful, fluid steps to her chambers. She then painted the hours away, until her wrist could no longer bless the canvas. She changed to her nightdress, laying down, hands asleep on her stomach as that braid of hers coiled around her arm. A breath was taken, calm, slow. Anneliese rested, staring up at her cold, shadowed ceiling. Her eyes went to a close, and for once, Everything went quiet. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Letters were then distributed to their addressed people. Do not metagame :c] Amon Safiyaa Nalia Auris Father... My grandchildren Russandiel :) Emmerich Viago Malna Victor Dean ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ OOC:

The kub of Grugmak took to the mountains in an attempt to find solace. Answers. Something, anything, to make sense. What would happen to her now? Murt felt the winds through her hair, as she stared up at the cloudy, mournful sky. She didnt feel alone, though. The sky wept as much as she did.

The kub, daughter of Grugmak, stared at the corpse of her father. Murt stood beside Thrall as she murmured denials under her breath, "When he comes back, Murt has much to tell." "Nub.. come back.. ever?" A reply. Quiet, from the elder. "He is with the ancestors." A drawl of silence from Murt. "...But Murt is still here." "Murt still lives." "But popo left Murt. Murt still here." "Come back for Murt, nub?" He wouldnt. Murt hadnt known the last journey, the initiation trek she had undergone with Grugmak and the REX, would be their last together. Murt hadnt known, that the last thing her father wouldve said to her was, "Murzush'Mak, Daughtur ov Grugmak." A legacy then bestowed, one Murt would make him proud with. She just thought.. he would've been there to see it.

Lilja fears to return to Lotharia after last time… she even promised her mother, and the Bearman, that she wouldn’t return! But she liked silly hats. She crossed her fingers that raiders wouldn’t come this time. ——————————————— The Princess of Ivoria felt her chin. Heilwig enjoyed the warty creatures such as frogs and toads… and perhaps she would make some new friends. The mention of frogs was all she really cared about, however.