Destructokeith

Silently within the courtyard the Master-at-arms cleans the blood from the steps. "they strike while Ich was away, perhaps in der end that ist der best" he says as he watches the line of caskets march past him. Artair would bow his head to each as they passed "for mein duty ist nicht yet done und had ich been here ich would have died before der deamonsteel thrones" says the man as he enters the damaged remains of the great hall. "Rest now, mein brothers und sisters, ihr names und deeds shall never be forgotten. Umwavering under the sun"

"Ein gutte man, wise und fair" Artair says of the bishop as he reads the missive from his office, placing it within the top drawer once finished

The Master-at-arms of Vissingren crashes out within the great library of the keep for when the war comes to his home... Artair would be at work.

A lone ravenflys forth from the tower of Vissingren "Arakawa. We must each choose our own paths and while it is a shame to see you depart it has been an honor to serve with you. I wish you the best in your new path, may you find what it is you need in this life. Artair." With that the Knight Commander nods and turns to his map, removing a token from the Commonwealths southern region.

"Unwavering under the sun!" Call the countless Bluecloaks of the mighty Haus

Rage. It filled the heart of the Knight Commander as he charged head long into the ranks of undead. It fueled his slaughter of the twisted creatures that stood in his path. Blinding and fierce his roars of fury had filled the battlefield as the silver blade cleaved through the ranks of undead. And yet. Artair had come to late to save them all, their blood pooling at his feet, mixing with the stale bile that had flown through the undead, The Knight had failed to defend the innocents. Silently, he was glad he still wore his helm as a child no older then his son screamed at him that he had failed. The visor hid the pain of failure, and the few tears that came with it.

"He cursed mich?" the knight Sir Artair asks to the empty room, the incident having been so long ago he had forgotten "odd, ich tend to remember these things" he shrugs some and moves on with his day

Thats because your teacher (me) was an idiot back then 🫡

The Night the Bone Wolf Howled The sound of boots on wood fill the silent halls of Vissingren as an old man walks through the castle one last time, at his side and ever loyal walks the bone wolf, Detlef, a living doll pulled from the darker corners of this old man's mind a mind now thinking of times gone by as he descends the steps to the throne room “Flame haired, Firebolt, Flamebringer” While the first was a name he was bound to get for his long red hair, the other two he had earned, earned in battle with steel and flame. His right hand begins to tremble, a side effect of war, he had always claimed it was from the battles, the force of his blade meeting his foe but he knew the truth, that hand alone was how he earned his name as he burned countless people alive. Flamebringer. He was proud of the name, that he had left such a mark on history and yet. The cold winds of the black hills bite at his face as he walks through the door and heads down the stairs, at the base of them he turns and looks upon the stone face of his father, Karl. Would he be proud? The question always caused turmoil in the man's mind, he knew some of his actions would cause his father great pain but would the good he did in his life outweigh the bad? He turns then and enters the forge, the place he had claimed as his own, he turns to the mural on the wall depicting himself carved into the stone so many years ago. He turns then to the wolf, a silent nod passed between creator and creature as the man descends into his study, he looks now at the painting of himself that hangs behind his desk, is this how he is to be remembered? A warrior in his prime? A hero to some and a villain to others? The man heads for the lift, he enters the halls of his lab and stares at the door. El. His beloved. The mural depicts his proposal to her under the memory tree. It was the second time he had Proposed and it was the second time she had said yes but this time it had been done with the blessing of her mother, he places his hand on the stone next to him and the mural falls away. He enters the heart of his lab. As he looks around the room he sees many things, trophies of fallen enemies, weapons and armour forged for his younger self but his eyes instead fall on a glass display, within a metal shell of a man,its chest opened and a gearheart resting before it, his eyes look up into a face that mimics his own, a manifesto to himself that he could have lived forever. No.. He had chosen this, for to be without El would be to be nothing at all. A cough wracks the man's body, causing him to stumble and fall, resting his hand on the table in the center of the room, the mace that lays atop it rolling into his steel hand. The Mace. While having been a swordsman before meeting his family he had only been trusted with a mace by Karl and for good reason. With the Frankish armies on one side, and the Adrian rebels on the other The men of Theonus had no time to test his ability, Artel didn't mind as the weapon was new to him and he took to it fast, becoming a force of nature on the fields of war. He stands and lays out his weapons, each made with a single goal in mind, each serving him faithfully The Black Blade, Forged by his kin and enchanted by a friend to control flames and the shadows of his mind and defend him from the Jester The Heir of the Flame, Forged by his hand in the dead of the night to be wielded against the forces of the dark as they closed in on him. His Rings, A way to glimpse into a different world, one where instead of the blade, he had learned the ways of the Arcane. The Black Blade, forged not only by his hand, but with his own body, a blighted weapon to bring peace to The Commonwealth. But now his time was done, the weapons had served their first master and were ready to be handed to the next. The man moves on leaving the heart of his lab behind as he walks the halls towards the exit once more, he thinks of all those he had lost… Karl. Annette. Catherine. Niko. Lucia. Alphonse. Adalia. Artemisia. The man pauses in his tracks. His mothers face burned into his eyes as he stared down the dark hallway. Did he care what she thought? Would she even care about him? The man shakes his head and enters the lift, heading back to his study where he would sit behind his desk and begin to write. Once finished he would stand, the ancient man beginning to walk once more, leaving behind his study and entering the forge he is met with only a voice. “Hey good looking” A smile creeps across his ancient face as there waiting in the moonlight is his El. “Hallo mein love” he says as he steps to her side, taking her hand in his “Would du care to join mich for ein walk in der garden?” he asks as he begins to walk. “I thought you would never ask” she replies as she follows. Detelf remaining a few paces behind as the pair walk down the path. They remain silent as the moon above lights their way, stopping to enjoy the smells of the flowers and the soft sound of the water as it runs into the pond. As the pair slowly begin to climb up the steps towards the church, Artel can't help but think if this was the right course, they both knew their time was up, tonight would be their last, but to do this? Yes, he thought, he had been the one to find his mothers body, alone within that cave, he had ridden to collect his fathers body from the rose fields he chose to fall in and Artel would not make his children do the same, they would not be the ones to bury him. The pair stop for a moment at the entrance to the crypt, Detlef, ever loyal as he was, would take a seat, knowing he could not follow. Artel would place his steel hand over the glowing seal atop the wolfs skull “Look after them, all of them” he would say before turning once more to El. “Ready, mein love?” “I was waiting for you” With that the pair would enter the crypt, stopping briefly at the grave of Isavella before carrying on deeper into the tomb, coming to a stop at a single large sarcophagus. “Ich couldn't leave du alone now could ich?” he asks Eloise with a laugh, a deep red smoke shrouding his arm as the lid slides open “I would have come back and dragged you with me” she replies as the ancient pair slowly climb into their resting place. With a turn of his wrist Artel seals the pair inside before he closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers. At the surface, Detlef, The living doll of bone and wire, ever silent lets out a heartbreaking howl. Some say it was the doll itself, others say it was the wind and other still say it was the souls of two lovers passing through the bones on the way to the skies. When Artel opens his eyes next, he is looking into the face of his beloved Eloise, the pair surrounded by faces long gone… Sir Artel “The Flamebringer” Von Theonus 1902 - 2006 SA 106 - SA 210 [!] The following day, letters would arrive to the following people. To the citizens of Petra I leave my name, let it be remembered or forgotten, let it be given to the next generations or let it be cursed in the dark, that is for you to decide To the commonwealth I give my deeds, I can no longer give my blood nor my soul but I leave you with what I have done, from the battle of Whitespire and the siege of Breakwater and to all the battles that followed I have defended our lands and our people and now I rest. To Sabine, @Itz_Cookie To Weylin, @Hom To Konstantin, @Deets To Atticus, @Hom To Farah, @Spoopy_Duck And with the last of his connections, two hooded figures would ride off into the world with a letter each, bound to the darker sides of Aevos to deliver them, one sealed with a jesters mask, and one sealed with a snake. The Jester, @Trey The Snake, @Itz_Cookie OOC:

It takes Artair some time to process what has happened. He is reminded of watching the battle in the throne room as a child and the fall of the last queen. He remains silent for a long time before nodding to himself, going to give his son a hug. Elsewhere The ancient man stares at the wall, at one hundred and four he had once more outlived a Queen, a child. Artel lights his forge, grasping his hammer once more he begins to forge, the ever watchful eyes of his living dolls watching him work. A silent prayer is uttered that he would not live to see the next join them

“Ave Petra” ISSUED BY Knight Commander of the Petrine Laurel In the year, 150 Atstana de Regne Petrère. ✦ • ───────────── • ✦ • ───────────── • ✦ DECLARATION On this day, I was summoned with several others by cries for help to respond to an attack in the Free City of Chambery. Conducted by a Necromancer and its vile creatures, this port city found itself faced to face with death incarnate. Upon arriving the others dispatched the constructs while I alone faced their creator. After riding him down in the streets and inflicting wounds, he was chased by myself down an alley leading to the vineyards of the Free City where the evil tried to face me in single combat. The battle was swift and brutal as I dispatched the monster by tossing him down the cliffside, leaving its broken body at the base of the cliff where my blade was sunk into its skull. Let these actions be a message to all under my command. The Laurel stands as the Crowns steel fist, we are to cleanse the rot and evil from our lands and it is best done by forward action. Thus, any Knight, Squire or Page of our order who brings me proof of victory in combat against enemies of our Commonwealth will be rewarded. While action shall be rewarded, let sloth be punished in equal measure. All active Knights, Squires and Pages of the Laurel are hereby summoned to meet with me within two years or face retirement from active duty. If you can not manage to meet with me in person a letter can be sent to myself to plan a meeting. This action is being taken to ensure the future of the order and deter stagnation. Sir Artair “The Flameborn” von Theonus Knight Commander of the Petrine Laurel, Master-at-Arms of Vissingren Castle

Shoot me a dm on discord if you feel like it! Got a few options open. Discord: Destructokeith

Good lore, easy new magic to take on

The green eyes stare east "fools trying to play gott" mutters Artair as he thumbs a coin in his hands, after a moment he tosses it off the walls "they are ein blight on us all"

I was going to do that as well and forgot LOL, fixed

Ty i tottaly forgot to bold the change LOL, fixed

OLD NEW REASON Just a small little clean up one, nodes have been outdated for some time and at the time of writing this there is an active hollow. CREDITS Writing: Destructokeith Review: Homo_Saxual @Hom

IGN: Destructokeith Discord: Destructokeith Full Name: Artair von Theonus Age: 20 something Address: Vissingren castle, dame cat way vii Position Running For: garmont

Please free me of this stain, i simply replyed with an actual emote i sent in game after having my day wasted please. Other then that i have made my thoughts on anon posting heard in the past and it seems to have worked but ill repost it here I find anon posting for certain personas rather fitting, as much as we all wish it wasnt a factor people do metagame the forums from time to time so being able to post a forum reply without giving your personas name is nice. Anyway thats it from me, pls free me of my warning

It takes time between the declaration arriving and the Master at Arm's orders to come. "Station guards along der north wall until der Queen's orders come down" Artair says to his partisans "But if ein mage tries to slip into Petra stop them und alert mich, ich will nicht let darkspawn flee"

The green eyes of Artair would linger on the fallen city a few days after the burning, he rolled a single coin over in his palm before dropping it into the mud at his feet. He wondered if perhaps this was what the red sun had risen for, a small smile coming to his face as he sets off for home.

The green eyes of Artair looked out at the sunrise from the walls of Vissingren, once more the teen had seen the death of a beloved leader within Petra, he runs his thumb across the pommel of his blade as he thinks of the battle between darkness and light he had seen within that evil place. After a long moment he turns and walks, not to his office but instead the chapel within the walls.

The best medic that could be found had been brought to the queen "right so, uh" he places a hand on her forehead "this ist clearly ein case of bloctularitosis" he states to the councilors "ich will see to her treatment PERSONALY!" he says as he rushes them out of the room. for all the years as a combat medic Artel still struggled to figure out how to cure such things as the common cold