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Crusteh

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About Crusteh

  • Birthday 10/15/1999

Contact Methods

  • Discord
    Your mum
  • Minecraft Username
    Your dad
  • Skype
    Teamspeak rip
  • Website
    www.BigBoabyBasher.com

Profile Information

  • Member Title
    Legend
  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Behind you
  • Interests
    music, art, acting and slinging BIG boaby.
  • Location
    behind your ma

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Wylein Alpyne
  • Character Race
    Human

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  1. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2025 E.S. ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ LET IT BE KNOWN. IN THE NAME OF DEFENCE I SHALL JOIN MY SOUTHERN COMRADES IN BALIAN. Together we shall fight to the bitter end and then some. We who fight on shall not be defeated by our own cowardice, but those who flee have sacrificed their freedom for subjugation. THE NORTH STANDS DEFIANT. We shall supply men and weapons to the Southern cause for freedom. We shall aid them in every way they can in the name of common good. All those who read this know where I stand yet I must clarify. I hereby formally disown the cowards who have abandoned their home. I no longer recognise the Rutherns of Norland. ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ PRO: Crusteh Region: Haense_vassal_vidaus Warclaim: Revolt, seeking vassalage under Balian Warpath: Defend Haense ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ IN THE NAME OF GOD, MIKHAIL I ALEKSANDR VAR RUTHERN, Free Duke & Lord of Morteskvan Keeper of the Mummers Gate Bearer of the Blackhand
  2. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 577 E.S. ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ LET IT BE KNOWN. I WILL NOT LEAVE THE WALLS OF MORTESKVAN. I will not bend the knee, nor shall I run and hide. For I was born in this castle and I shall die in this castle even if the worst should prevail. The people of Hanseti-Ruska have fallen under weak leadership, they now tuck tail and whimper, bending the knee to foreign heretical powers. Rather than defending the land your forefathers forged till the last drop of blood falls from your broken brows. I NAME ALL OF YOU CRAVEN. YOU CRUMPLE LIKE WET PARCHMENT, AS IF HONOUR WERE A FOREIGN CURSE. I SPIT ON YOU. For you all share the heart of a mouse and the snout of pig, digging your dung smeared faces deep into the troth of imperial subjugation. Many would rather roll belly up into the norling boglands. This makes no difference; you are swine all the same. YOU HAVE ABANDONED THE RUSKAN PEOPLE IN THE NAME OF SELF PRESERVATION. I would rather die fighting to the bitter end and crumble under mine own castle walls, rather than have my knee bent to Heathoneous Norlanders or some petty Heartlanders empire that besmirch the name of Godan, all in the name of greed and decrepit glory. COWARDS! DOES THE CROW HAVE THE SAME TEMPERMENT OF A SPARROW? A CRETENOUS FLOCK THAT SCATTERS AS THE FIRST STONE IS HURLED! SO TO ALL THOSE THAT WISH TO SEE THE END OF MY HOUSE; To raze the castle my Grandsire built into rubble; To have it shattered into dust and lay crippled far below the cliff sides of Vidaus? I challenge you. Therefore I declare myself, MIKHAIL ALEXANDR VAR RUTHERN, first of his name, the FREE DUKE OF MORTESKVAN. ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ COME AND SEE! COME AND SEE THE WALLS OF HOUSE RUTHERN, COME AND MARCH THROUGH THE SNOW TRODDEN CLIFFSIDE. COME SEE OUR BATTLEMENTS AWAITING YOUR APPROACH, COME AND CLIMB THE STEPS AND SEE WHAT FATE AWAITS YOU. WE SHALL NOT SURRENDER. OUR WILL IS STEADFAST. FOR WE WHO STAND FIRM SHALL BREAK BEFORE WE BEND. LET ALL TRUE MEN DECLARE THEIR LOYALTY. ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ ⚒⠀༻⊰───────────────────⊱༺ IN THE NAME OF GOD, MIKHAIL I ALEKSANDR VAR RUTHERN, Free Duke & Lord of Morteskvan Keeper of the Mummers Gate Bearer of the Blackhand
  3. Honored to call you my friend @ContestedSnow . The project wouldn't have been made manifest without your constant hard work mate. Lets get AOT finished :)
  4. Wylein would read the news, his grimace dissolved into a warm smile that struck into a large grin that spilled across his face. "At last!" He exlcaimed we can now enjoy the fruits of our victory!" He rose from his chair laying down his pipe on the mantle above the warm, crackeling fire place. The Artizan Steward then opened one of the many arched windows of Morteskvan and stared deep into the frozen wastelands that lay north. The bitter cool air that had raced between snowtopped cliffaces and craggy rivers of ice then shot through his window, snuffing candles and ruffling his many scribings held down by paper weights. Wylein would inhale the frosty air. "The end of one chapter is just the begining of the next! I anticipate what awaits me!" He twindled his moustache. Just then a Handmaiden by the name of Morvana stood beneath Wylein's open door frame. "His grace, Lord Ruthern would demand an audience with you... you are to find him on the Rooftop of the High Keep, Wylein..." Without turning Wylein would nod firmly "Then I shall see him at once. What a veiw he has picked!" He then closed his window. As he turned he was quick to notice that the fireplace had been extinguished, the candles lay dead, the smoke dissapated and so to the Handmaiden was no where to be seen.
  5. Wylein would read the news, his expression unchanged "They may cower under any cloak that suits their needs, they may whimper and whine at the fate they brought apon themselves but no matter. If we allow this Brigand State to remain within the heartlands, there shall be no change and no safety to our travels. They may beg forgiveness from GODDAN but we are no Gods and in this life they will live with the full weight of punishment for their litany of crimes agaisnt men."
  6. Crusteh

    Crusteh

    You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Example: Wylein Turns and scans the surrounding area and inhales the inscense. He turns his head back to the old woman. "Well, Firstly... my name is Wylein Stuart Alpyne. I'm the second son of Wylock Alpyne, our ancestors where lesser nobles, landed Knights of The Cragg Moot Keep of the Wester Boglands. The man who found or name was a lumberman by the name of Lylan. He worked the lumber of the once fertile lands known once as the Alpyne Woods. One day he had been working, as he was about to fell is final tree of the day a young lording apeared, riding past at a great speed but his horse had tripped over the logs Lylan had felled earlier. The lord was being persued by a band of orcs on horseback. Seeing this Lylan pushed the the tree he had been cutting, toward the path crushing two of the Orcish riders, The final Orc reered his stead behind his companions, he turns his horse and charged toward lylan. He raised his old and rusted lumber axe and with a foul swoop he snapped the horses leg bringing down the orcish raider. Lylan then put The Orcs to a swift end. For this the lord Knighted Lylan, naming him Sir Lylan of the Alpyne and granted him the lands of the Alpyne Woods where he and his ancestors would Stand as the lands protector atop the Cragg Moot Rock. Yet only 93 years later, all the trees had been felled and the surrounding marshland had swept over the once abundent forrestry. With no Trees to Fell and the the surrounding hamlets emptied there we where unable to pay our taxes or provide swords to our sworn lord. My family where judged to be unfit to protect the lands and had our titles and much of the surrounding land revoked, yet we may keep the cragg moot as no one wanted to claim a sinking, broken tower. As generations passed the little land left once held by my family had grown even more inhospitable. No crops have grown and our once tall tower keep had sunken ever further into the mud, year after year. It only 3 years ago orcish raiding parties had all but lain waste to my familys seat, claiming it their new home. My father died of a chill some 5 years before the our seat was taken. As for my older brother The Self styled "Sea Captain" Aulbur Alpyne, He had taken to Sea after theiving what family heirlooms he could and leaving our seat undefended. He now captains a shipped he calls "the Black lips" and has disgraced himself as a pirate. He had offered me a place at his side with a ship of my own but... I have no want to theive and pillage the southern coast. I have no land to claim, I only wish to seek vengence for my younger brother Jesha. After my Aulbur had fled my younger brother Jesha gave chase but never returned from the woods... he hasn't been seen again. One day... I will purchase myself a Galley and it will be from my own toil, not from that of which is taken unjustly. *Wylein slams his fist in rage* *The old lady wakes up startled* "ooh! ehr.. you where saying about the crops and...?" *Wyleins stares at the floor* "never mind."
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