Frawlic

IGN: Comica_l DISCORD: frawlic SKIN: Red Resplendent AMOUNT: $10

IGN: Comica_l DISCORD: frawlic SKIN: Minty Majesty AMOUNT: $10

Given names: Amari Morozov-Tabbris Age: 16 Citizenship: Haense Relevant skills (if applicable): Fighting, medicine, reading, fluctuating luck (very good or very bad) Letter of Recommendation: Svetlana vas Ruthern ((OOC: Discord)): frawlic

Amari scanned over the invitation, a frown caught on her lips as she had to once more miss another friend's nameday. That would not keep her from getting a gift for the next time she saw Esfir though!

⋆Discord: frawlic ⋆Skin Name(s): Amaya's Scyfling Armor ⋆Bid(s): Buyout

Amari had become accustomed to broken promises. This was one she wished hadn't been. Fingers curled around a book of Frostweavers given to her by the recently passed had been the only thing keeping the girl from breaking down similarly to its worn leather bindings. Amari would not break her promise, not the one she had granted Amaya just the day before. "Ea will behave.... ea will keep Deia safe... ea promise, Dutiful Jewel." Meanwhile, within the confines of her home wept a bard. Another one lost.

The now quiet Lady Bard of Haense, Verdier, paces mindlessly in her abode upon receiving the notice. Was one song enough? Perhaps she should have dedicated so much more to the Queen who had given her a home. Still, she kept to her own promise of silence, knowing others could provide more. Meanwhile, a just shy of teenage years Amari trails after her fathers as they do their work, hoping at some point she can see the Queen to read her the story books she had collected throughout her childhood. She knew no way else of thanking the sickly woman for the advice and aid she had provided.

Amari had never written a response letter so quickly in her life, knowing her fathers would not truly care if she partook in the activities.. as long as there was no actual murder. Eja, ea would love to attend the mystery party! As long as there is nie actual murder.

"Wait, es having two papejs niet normal?" Amari pondered at the idea before shaking her head and returning home.

Amari screamed as the missive reached their door, ripping it from the hands of her fathers and hurriedly wrote an RSVP back, specifically to Svetlana because she didn't know how any of this worked. "EA GET TO WEAR THE DRESS SHE GOT ME!" Verdier meanwhile simply went over the script, excited to perform now that a time and place had been scheduled for Lorena's Lament.

Verdier sat solemn across from Her Majesty, awaiting at the gates for the return of many. She expected loss, but not one like this. In silence her thoughts formed and remembrance of the day she first arrived in Haense lingered in her mind. From tavern bard to court bard in minutes. Amari tugged at her fathers' sleeves (@Koodini@RingAroundRosey) pointing to the paper as she waited for them to break it down for her to understand. Maybe now that the Queen had more time, Amari could ask for a playdate.

Verdier, after many hardships had finally returned to Valdev, baffled by the amount of missives available for her attention and as said to the ones prior, she uttered three words. "What the ****?"

R (Can't write pretty while on my phone, will swoon over you once I'm home)

"It's over...? Finally." Verdier took hold of her lute and headed for the nearest tavern, a smile etching itself onto her visage.

Verdier looked through the sheets of paper, nodding in agreement with Reza before rubbing at her brow. "What if they get mad at us for this one?"

Though it had taken the bard a year to fully believe in her capability, an aging sheet coated in ink sat within her desk. Upon the reorganization of such when it came to her hiding some songs she hoped would never see the light of day, this one had returned to her. Visions of the event it entailed coated her mind and as she sat there, some guilt seemed to fester. Rumors had swept through Haense, and she had witnessed the struggle of a strong woman being swept up within them. Perhaps a pick-me-up wouldn’t hurt. So after all this time, and a few moments of editing, the tune had been figured and it was off to the tavern once more. Hopefully the tune would reach Her Majesty’s ears. Lyrics The winter winds seemed to call out As the Queen took the crown from her head The Lord Marshal readied the brawl now And we all placed our bets in our heads With a word their fists started flyin’ We all wondered when this would end It seemed the stars were cryin’ Whose blood would coat our lands Her pink cloak would waver softly But her hands were hard as stone And with both of them swingin’ together The accuser would draw back his word Though much longer than we all expected Her accuser cried out for an end The Queen she stood successful And gave him a helpin’ hand And the crowd they erupted Another victory for Her Majesty As the white snow danced around her It was quite the sight to see We all gathered in the tavern To celebrate in her name Echoed the music and laughter On another Haeseni day Signed, “Lady Bard of Haense,” Verdier

The bard looks at her hair, then the character list and adds her name to the sign ups without a second thought.

The battle bard had bore witness to the Queen receiving the news, a familiar feeling brewing within her that sent an ache to her bones. Despite her constant need to write a tune or perhaps a poem, something told her that maybe just this once, it wasn't the right thing to do. No ink or paper would be drawn from her desk that night. Verdier pitied them, every last individual involved.

A taller woman skulked into the tavern, common place for her in her deep hues of purple. The evening had been long after the battle that had ensued at Drusco. She found herself battered, bruised, and missing her right eye. Event after event occurred that day and as the people of Haense gathered within its walls for warmth and merriment once more, she found herself falling into routine. A lute made its way to her grasp, a moment or two of tuning before she steadied herself. Would her playing be the same? Perhaps she ached too greatly to even attempt a performance for the patrons within. But, there was cause for celebration… how could she not? A decision was made, the gentle strums of a lute filling the room, quickly followed by her voice, an uncommon accent, though decipherable and understandable to anyone who spoke common. The song of peace and war echoed slightly beyond the tavern’s doors, welcoming those outside into the building’s warmth and her entertainment. Of course, it went a little something like so…. ⏠ Verse 1 ⏡ In the time of the war When our soldiers go down We gather their memories and go back to town But our hardships and losses can get in the way And our thoughts of our sieges and victories can sway ⏠ Chorus ⏡ I’ll never know of peace again When I walk down these roads and venture the lands So for now I’ll keep swingin’ this sword in my hands I’ll never, no, never know of peace again ⏠ Verse 2 ⏡ For the war it can change us Deep down in our hearts And we ought to remember where we did start Violence and bloodshed can infect like a plague But the old days remind of the smile on your face ⏠ Chorus ⏡ I’m dreamin’ of peace again When I walk down these roads and venture the lands But for now I’ll keep swingin’ this sword in my hands I’m dreamin’, yes dreamin’ of peace again ⏠ Verse 3 ⏡ Now that it’s over I wish to lower my blade Differences aside who's really to blame We’ve our losses and victories, and we all carry shame We can grow and forget, but we’ll never be the same ⏠ Chorus ⏡ I’m livin’ in peace again When I walk down these roads and venture the lands And I’m no longer swingin’ this sword in my hands I’m livin’, yes, livin’ in peace again I’m livin’, yes, livin’ in peace again Signed, Verdier

Verdier sat proud of the work done with her fellow musicians and individuals of the arts. She hoped to be a part of more in the future.

A depiction of the recently engaged couple. After a long awaited time, it is with absolute joy that the following invitations be extended to the family and friends of His Grace, Gottfried Barclay, and Her Ladyship, Anastaja Marie Ivanovich for the upcoming union. The wedding is to take place on the afternoon of Godfrey's Triumph within the Holy Church of the Auspice. The couple hopes those available will be in attendance for the joyous occasion. Festivities Schedule Ceremony The bride and groom’s wedding will be a traditional wedding of vow and ring exchanges within the Holy Church of the Auspice. Tavern Night Once the ceremony has concluded, the newlyweds and their guests will move the celebration to The Drunken Maiden Tavern just beside Minitz front gates to partake in drinks, food, music and more. Special Invitations His Serene Highness, Leon II Barclay, Grand Prince of Minitz and his Noble Pedigree His Princely Grace, Alfred, Prince of Sutica and Duke of Reinmar and his Noble Pedigree Ser Miklós Korvacz Rozsika Korvacz Aristzid Korvacz Francseszka Korvacz Formal Invitations Shugo Kato Oijin of Sakuragakure and the Oyashiman and his Noble Pedigree Extended Invitations Burghers & Tribesmen of Minitz Landsers von Reinmar Signed, Her Ladyship, Anastaja Marie Ivanovich Lady of Stran His Grace, Gottfried Barclay von Kanunsberg, Duke of Kanunsberg, Vizekanzler of Minitz, Cannonside

"Does this one come with another song?" Verdier gripped her lute, rushing around the halls to find the Lord Marshal.

Display of the House Korvacz Crest “Together, We Prosper.” 1st of the Deep Cold, 1908 - 6th of the Sun’s Smile 1959 Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since the passing of her Richard and nothing had changed. The pain and regret that gnawed away at the widowed Raevir was like none she had experienced before and loss was not a foreign concept. A husband, a brother, a sister, a duke, a friend, a hound. Her mind racked with faces, ones unforgettable that perhaps even the slowest of turns left her dizzy with their memories. Xénia had rewritten her loved ones a thousand times over. She could not recall the last time she had looked into her son’s eyes or her niece’s visage without constant reminder of what was no longer hers. What she had begged GOD to prevent had plagued her and she wondered what grave sin she had committed to perhaps experience his wrath. Though dwelling on the idea prevented her, and children raised themselves in the meantime as she consumed herself. Rage and hollow had become all she was aware of. It became routine to wander into the woods no matter the time or weather, nothing but her axe in hand, the blade freshly sharpened. Massacre occurred and oftentimes she returned caked in some creatures' blood. Xénia had become stained and could not afford to be seen as such. She did not want her loved ones to see the wrath that had crept into her once innocent soul. She did not want them to see that the flower of Korvacz had wilted, that their small rabbit was no prey, but a predator against the weak. In times when she was accompanied, her existence became null and unlike her teenage days she returned home spotless, without a kill. A mindset had settled eventually, she was no longer looking for her sister or a way to vent her pain. Rather, she embraced it and hoped one day she would swing… and miss. That whatever beast she wished to take life from would return the favor. Care for herself had ceased. Her son, Loránd, was safe. Her parents had what they wanted. Xénia’s titleage was no more and as much as she wished to curse her brothers for leaving her with it, similarly, they were gone, only one returning. No longer did she need to care. Not as she had done to herself for most of her life, but for those within it. She was much too prideful and vain to concern herself with her own wellbeing. It bit her on the behind and eating became difficult and she stirred often in sleep, finding herself growing nocturnal and comforted by the solitude of the stars. She had settled, and routine filed back in. As the moon lit the sky, Xénia carefully removed her wedding band, staring at it with glazed eyes. A gentle kiss settled on the sapphire upon it before it was left on her nightstand where she’d put it on once more upon returning. She stumbled down the stairs in her silent ways, heading into the kitchen where she wrapped a small meal of leftovers, made by her and her niece in cloth, tying it in a knot around her belt. She moved away towards the front door, watching as her hound, Laura, stared back up at her, a bone from her brother within the dog’s maw. Her weary mass leaned down to the old girl, offering a few pats to the head as she whispered, “Stay girl, watch my life….” Reaching over, her fragile fingers curled around the axe’s handle and stood. A glance was offered to the rest of the house, not her home, but she knew the people within it were. With a final adjustment of her cloak she left. She assumed the night would entail a hunt or simply a wander. Xénia did not know it would be her last, or a slaughter. Her trek was long, into a forest beyond Haense. A distant stare had settled as she made her way through, unaware of the hungry eyes that tracked her. The woman had lost touch with her hunting days, rather the only thing she could hear was her own heart, thumping heavily in her ears and providing ache to her temples. Only at the rushing steps behind her was there a sudden acknowledgement that once more, the Baroness Emeritus had become prey. The day prior, she had encountered its tracks with her other niece, her brother’s daughter. In her rain chilled and blood soaked state she assumed the tracks had been old and she was dead wrong. The bear, a foe she was familiar with and had killed once before, in group and on lonesome. Though in those days she cared, and now, maybe she started to again. Her grip adjusted on her axe and as she drew it up, the weight became present in her hands and she fumbled back to the ground. Just barely had she managed to get her weapon above her for some source of protection, afterall, she donned no armor. Claws dug at her shoulders and arms, the unbearable weight of the beast hunkering down on her midsection and a pained wheeze escaped from the woman. Her handle settled against the bear’s throat, just keeping its maw from ripping her face from her skull. Its mouth foamed and her eyes traveled quickly, pain beating in her head before they settled onto the bear’s. The sky. Not the night one she had become accustomed with, but the day and its light. She had seen it once before in her husband’s gaze and with the realization, her elbows sunk back to her form… and her grip loosened. As she had wished to do all this time… she finally let go. Within those final moments, the mention of a promise rang low in her ears, the final conversation she had participated in. She had promised something. What was it? That she’d start over again, that she’d be better. Her eyes widened slightly, though it was too late. Perhaps she’d have to fulfill such utterances in her next life. Hopefully her mother would be her mother again, and hopefully they could be happy with themselves. Xénia was sick of regret, her eyes closing in acceptance. Not even a scream of agony could have left her, as in a swift moment and a crack barely distinguishable beneath the groans of the goreing animal, she was gone. Last Will and Testament of Issued by Patriarch, C. 6th of the Sun’s Smile, 1959 The recent passing of my husband has brought me many plagued visions and I cannot help but feel death tails closely behind myself as well. Loss is inevitable and the confusion with it only worsens the feeling of dread that reaps one's soul. In a moment of clarity only then did I realize with the organization left for me to carefully sort through that I would not have to rip up the floorboards in search of answers. Similarly, I wish to not do the same to those close to me upon my departure to the Seven Skies if GOD wills me. With such notes, the following should be taken into account. What titleage or influence of mine remains upon the time coming shall fall to my parents, Sir Miklós Korvacz and Rozsika Korvacz. From such a point on they will decide when my son, Loránd Korvacz II, is befitting of taking the duties bestowed upon him. I plead to wait for him to be wed to an individual willing to take the Korvacz name as I do not wish for him to carry such weights on his own. If they do not believe him well-suited, they are free to pick from my siblings and their children. Heirlooms belonging to myself that were granted to me by the Von Leopold family are to be dispersed amongst my children, Loránd Korvacz II, Franziska von Leopold, and Miklós von Leopold, as they see fit amongst themselves, hopefully in an even manner. Heirlooms belonging to myself that were granted to me by the Korvacz family are to be dispersed amongst Loránd Korvacz II, Arisztid Korvacz, his children if the time arrives, Ramóna Korvacz, and her children if the time arrives. The remainder of my wealth is to be put into the estate that my parents, Sir Miklós Korvacz and Rozsika Korvacz reside in at the time of my passing. To pay taxes or remove themselves from debt if need be. Unlike my husband, I cannot bring myself to write my goodbyes individually. I know my words would never be enough to describe the indescribable love and compassion I feel irreverently for those dear to me. All I ask is that you do not weep and take my passing as a stepping stone to reach for greater heights. The stars are not your limit, and I cannot wait to see you all again. Xénia Korvacz Sir Miklós Korvacz