ChainedDragons

MC Name: ChainedDragons Discord: ChainedDragons Image: Description of Image: An image painted to not forget that streak of light that ran across the sky Dimensions: 1x1 [1 map]

The omen felt knots twist in his gut. So close.. and yet.. He hides the missive amongst his shelf. Another opportunity gone.

MC Name: ChainedDragons Discord: ChainedDragons Image: Description of Image: Unicorn sketchs :) Dimensions: 1x2 [1 map high, 2 map long]

MC Name: ChainedDragons Discord: ChainedDragons Image: Description of Image: A painting dubbed 'Maker' Dimensions: 1x2 [2 maps going up]

MC Name: ChainedDragons Discord: ChainedDragons Image: Description of Image: an art piece of a knight passing Dimensions: 2x2 [4 maps - 2 high 2 wide]

Heimweh is prepared to eat the skygods sending their bans and Bron is ready to burn - let's go peeps IG: CHAINEDDRAGONS MC: Bronadron Callaghan

A small booklet was found in the knights belongings: letters and a will should anything had befallen the knight in his line of duty. A precaution taken when the fall of Aveos began. "While it may be viewed as morbid I carry about a list of belongings and letters to give to my loved ones, I consider it an assurance to myself that they will hear me one last time before I go.. in a sense. I wish for whomever is presiding as arch duke upon my death to be the distributor of my will:" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Therin; I leave my war maul 'Nature's Reject'. It isn't anything special to be honest other than it is one of the only two handed weapons I ever created.. Feel free to keep it for yourself or pass it on to someone within our military who you believe to serve Petra FIRST. This weapon was made to defend Petras people first.. I ask it not be given to those who would use it for selfish deeds. You were the first to welcome me into Petra.. you shielded me from the cold with your cloak and ensured I was fed. It was why I followed you all these years... you were my king, my archduke, and my father figure. I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble. To Symon; My father. I leave you the wolf cloak I have refused to be rid of all these years despite how ragged it has become. It was our first hunt. Do you remember? We were clearing out Petras' fields of sickened predators when we found this poor beast. You provided me a home. A family. I will never forget that. Even if I squabbled with my siblings one too many times. No amount of words could be used to thank you and show my love for you father. I hope this cloak shows it instead. To Thomas Von Theonus & Ivy Von Theonus: Perhaps in poor taste I leave you my amatii hand. A final joke before I leave you to try and make you smile one last time. I can offer you this hand whenever you need it now. But.. more importantly, I leave you the fang of the river serpent I collected as a child. Remember how you told me not too get too close? And yet I rode that river serpent as if it were a horse. I can't imagine the stress I caused the pair of you. You were both my greatest mentors. You built me up despite the times I fell short. I have you to thank for helping me become the man I was. To Inti Pachaktiq: My little star. I know no matter when this letter finds you it will always be too soon for you and I am sorry. Do not despair.. do not let my passing tear that smile from your face nor shadow your love for the skies. You are loved. You are important. You are treasured. Never. Never forget that... I leave you "Shooting star". The first weapon I was ever bestowed. I know you will take care of it. Take care of our family and do not let this world dim your light. I will guide you, somehow. To my beloved wife Gloria: There is no amount of finery, wealth, time, songs, or experiences I could give you that would express the amount of love I have for you. Do not let my passing lead you to ruin my love. Remember the day we met? In the rain? Whenever the heavens rain down upon you, think of me. It will be me reaching out to remind you that I will be waiting for you. My love.. I leave you my ring and "Tyr's Beak". May my blade defend you even with my physical body cannot. ᛁ ᛚᛟᚢᛖ ᛁᛟᚢ. To my Children: I love all four of you so much.. and if you are reading this I am gone too soon. I am sorry I was swept away by duties. By war. But do not think for one second that means I do not love any of you. You are a part of me and your mother made flesh. You are the embodiment of love.. I just wish I could have given you all so much more.. I leave you my 'Algiz cloak', my axe, my helm, northern saxifrage flower, Stag figurine, and my wealth. Items are only a fraction of what I wish I could have given you but please... please take this final word from your father. I love you. All of you. Do not forget to use your voice first before your weapons. To Corann; My old friend. You were severely misunderstood and for that I am sorry I did not protect you enough.. not to my standard. You saw the world through a different lenses and helped me see. I won't forget the pranks, the laughs, and the kindness you brought me. I leave you my multi-tool.. keep fixing the world old friend. Someone has to. To Aunty Mattae Asadha: You were very much an aunty to me all these years. That stern voice in the back of my head keeping me in check to ensure I did right. I will never forget all the good you did for me. My only regret is I feel as if I did not do enough good for you in turn. I leave you my Lorraine. Keep it close, so that I may be with you always. Maybe we will see each other again.

A white raven flies over Petra as silence took the city with the fall of a good man.

Time ravages all things. From the most unassuming of grasses to the mightiest of peaks. ------------------------------------------------ The last thing Sir Silas saw as the mammoths foot crushed down his body was a familiar white raven flying towards his face. Then came the feeling of numb as his vision clouded. The last thing his body registered was his grip upon his war maul. Kvitravn had come to guide the nordling home at long last. -------------------------------------------------- Hart opens his eyes as he came to, slowly sitting up upon a lake shore surrounded by the frosted pines of eternity. "Hart." The man looks over his shoulder, blinking in surprise as he sees a familiar face. "Father?" "It's time." "Time? But.. what of my family? They are waiting for me." Hart looks back across the growing expanse of the lake as he stood, frigid waters rolling over the pebbles beneath his feet. "It is not their time. You have had yours. You were even blessed with second chances.. you cannot cross again my son." The knight's expression softened at his fathers words, looking down at his reflection within the lake. A vision of him in his prime. "You guided me.. surely I can guide them?" "Perhaps.." A hand is extended to Hart. The two men leave the lake, the mountain looming over it in silence. "Talk to the Kvitravn. He will watch over them for you." Silence settles over the pines, the last words being spoken for sometime being; "I'm glad to see you again." ------------ OOCLY: Thank you to all who helped me form Hart as a character. He was my second proper character on the server and I accomplished much with him. I made many friends too. Thank you - all of you. To those of Viru & of Petra. A When2Meet will be made so we can organize his funeral and a separate post will be made for Harts will. Do not be too sad for all good tales have to end sometime.

Bron would consider talking to the Admiral about this. Perhaps it would give him more encouragement to produce more of his craft.

Though he won, Nickolai lay within Aldunns hospital. His body broken from such a feat. Nothing worth achieving is without cost. The omen would remain under careful care as his shattered ribs were mended and his brother tried to find someone to replaced the destroyed amatii arm.

Please remember not to meta the information below - enjoy the content Victory +=={:::::::::::::::::> Aut Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam <:::::::::::::::::}==+ He had been found. The entity that could have acted like a grandfather stood before him. A bulwark of everything that went wrong within Nickolai's family history. All that pain. All that misery stemmed from one man. A man who was unsatisfied with the bounty life gave him and yet sought to take more. In Nickolai's youth, only fear existed for the blue tyrant. Along with rules that followed the serpents waking presence. But Nickolai was no longer a child. He was a man. Now the lavender omen sat mounted before the demon king that blocked his path. There was only one course of action to subdue the fear that held Nickolai by the throat all these years. Surpass it. Nickolai had managed to hold his own. The omen had delivered hits with his aurum shamshir to the tyrants Prussian blue scales. He had even evaded devastating blows. Yet the man did not remain unscathed. His horse was slaughtered. He was dragged through undergrowth. He was thrown back by the devastating shock-wave of volatile high density steel cracking the road beside him. Nickolai could barely prop himself up, stabbing pains riddled within his chest. "You lasted longer than most. You don't have to fight me anymore. You'll never have to worry about anything anymore. For as long as eternity lasts you will exist." Nickolai could hear the shifting of scales as the blue tyrant bent to his level. "Watch your children grow to have miserable little lives. I can grant this to you, with a wave of my hand..." Black blood ran down the omens face as he managed to force out a chuckle. "Ea do niet need anything from vy... ea have all ea need. Ea have earned all ea need. Vy squandered vyr chance in life.." Nickolai felt a pressured grasp wrap around his head, forcing him to look up and look Kroza in the eyes. "...all your life, you have lived as a composite of what others have told you to be. I am offering you freedom. Freedom from a doomed, wasted existence." The serpentine head inclined closer to Nickolai's face, the omen making out the details of those unnatural yellow eyes. "Join Us." There was a pained hitch in Nickolai's breath as he felt the demon kings grip readjust around his skull. "Ea choose eam own way.. eam never going to make the same mistake vy made... That papaej made.. so.." His voice lowered. "Kiss eam lavender ass." Nickolai flicked his amatii wrist, the hidden blade emerging as he thrust it into the blue tyrants face. Nickolai felt his head be shoved back as Kroza stumbled back screaming and clawing at his face. The omens black pearls became blurry as his body slumped down into Aldunns leaf littered road. Special thanks to @SethWolf for such a cool rp experience and helping further Nicky's character development. Be sure to read his POV

This is a prompt written off of RP between two Characters - please do not meta. @KidKrinkles assisted me with polishing my writing <3 - Thanks bud ------------------------------------------------------------ "All folks focus on legacy , and how t'ere actions are perceived, wit'out carin' for what t'ose actions are. Ye' lost'a squire'hood. But ye' lost it to'a tyrant's regime. Te' church 'ates you. T'ey dunnae offer ye' salvation, t'ey only wish to make yer' life match yer' afterlife, and torment ye' in preparation for'a worse fate." There was a sigh. "Who cares. Take'a knee, lad." ﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊ Good men will always die, the only questions are when, and, what they choose to die for. Accepting this gift was not power, but awakening. The moment he understood that the laws of men and the demands of morality rarely walk the same path. When forced to choose, good men follow their consciousness. They light the path for others. And when their flame is spent? Those who walked behind them carry it forward. In a world where virtue is bound, the corrupt decide which way the winds blow. Secrecy becomes a shield, and quiet acts endure longer than shouted ones. He would not be remembered for this. That was never the point. Whatever time he had been granted, he would spend it defending those he loved. Standing against the dark, pressed in on all sides. Good men will always die. He only hoped that the oath now on his lips had not already set the horizon.

MC Name: ChainedDragons Discord: Chained-Dragons Image: Description of Image: A painting of the afterlife Dimensions: 1x2 [two high]

Sir Silas sighs as he reads over his sons missive. Now things have become more complicated. The family now divided, the knight wondered where time would take all of them...

Something terrible has happened...

[Disclaimer: The purple/pink text are Bron's thoughts] 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 “Remember that when you leave this earth, you can take with you nothing that you have received-only what you have given: a full heart enriched by honest service, love, sacrifice and courage.” [Saint Francis of Assisi] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Du are a father now. As a mother, und parent meinself, there will be times where du have to put your children, even before yourself. If du intend to stay, are du willing to make the sacrifices needed for them?” "T'ey'd sooner turn t'eir own blades on ye; ye'll ne'er quite belong, to 'em." "You are a tool to be used until they no longer need you. You see what life you have here - your friends, and your country. One day, you will turn around and be all alone." "Bron please, leave with me - we can't stay here." I am tired of running. There is no where for us to go. I have to make a choice. Bron held Solveig's hand with a gentle grip, each of them holding a babe in the opposite hand as the Magistrate glowered down upon them. The fire light illuminating the imposing church art of depicting souls swirling upward to the seven skies that no cursed child could ever hope to reach. "You were bid several times that you were to never sire a bastard and set an example for your kin that a case could be made that your kind are able to be redeemed. I state plainly now that you have failed." We are treated as animals. We are expected to live and not love, to not make families of our own. Where is the love the true faith so decrees to voice? In what world is having a family make ones entire grouping of people irredeemable? I suppose it is this one. If it is a crime to love, so be it - I will break the law again. And again. Your words, Your God do not dictate my path. He lost that privilege when he abandoned us to the darkness he allowed to fester in this wretched world of his own making. Bron looked behind him as the steps of entering Dragon knights caught his attention, the back ground noise of companions protesting filling his ears. The rope binding his muzzle shut itched his skin as the frown on his face only grew deeper with the passing of his sentence. "Your left hand will be removed that you may never raise it against Idunia. You are forbidden from getting a replacement in any way. Your tail will be cut off, if you wish to live amongst men, you may at the very least try to fit in. This is your penance, these are the lessons that will stay with you forever. Do not let me see you here a third time, for even GOD's mercy runs dry." Mercy? This is GOD's mercy? What a joke... All this, for daring to have children to call his own. Bron's eyes flick to those in the stands. His friends from Argenost, Tir'glas, across the very continent, even his family. Within short order the Magister commanded the devil to be taken to the barracks for his punishment, leaving him precious few seconds to caress his wife's cheek one last time with his own hand. "This ruling is a farce, he should be executed!" "What is going on here?" "Do not cut his tail, it will paralyze him!" The devil was quickly growing overwhelmed by the numerous voices arguing over his fate. He lowered himself to his knees, bowing his head. Why was he trying to pray? - God would not answer. That naive hope of someone... something, being out there in the world that could hear his out cry for comfort. For something. Why were his people cursed to walk a path without guidance while the rest of the world squanders their own gilded roads? "Boromir will cut the hand and the tail." Bron's head snaps up at this deceleration. He could see the sickening look in his friends eyes. Boromir had been the most vocal, the loudest defense of the devil. And now he is being made the executioner of Bron's penance. He wasn't going to actually do it, right? Soon he found himself pushed to his knees, the large crowd that had been attracted by the spectacle in the first place watching. Whether most cared for his fate or only wished to see the block run black with his blood was up in the air. So many people.. from Idunia.. Argenost.. the Empire. Every where. "Do you want the rope off?" Bron nodded, allowing Boromir to pull the rope muzzle from his face. Giving a small shred of dignity back. The devil splayed his fingers on the wooden block, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he tried to prepare himself. He hadn't realized he was screaming till his eyes flicked down to see the hazy visage of his hand laying on the block as black blood spewed forth like ink, coating the cobbles. That hand would no longer create weapons or armor... nor would it compose music or art. It would never caress his loves face again. The devil slumped to the ground, barely registering that the removal of his tail had been denied only for all his quills and what little of his horns were left to be removed too, driving his body to drown his consciousness in darkness. He had no idea the Knight commander was ordering onlookers to keep back lest they wanted to die for interfering with Arthur and Boromir carrying him to the hospital. Hours would pass but when he awoke he found himself in a room, staring up at the ceiling as many bodies would come and go, speaking with him. Apologizing for something that maybe could have been prevented. "I am sorry Bronadron.. you are stripped of your squire rank and are no longer permitted to pursue knighthood." Numb. He just felt numb. Why did being numb have to hurt so much? When finally left alone to recoup his strength, the devil let the pitiful whimpers fill his space. His dreams were just that. Only dreams. He had fulfilled one dream but killed the others in the process. This is the price of his love. [RP: Word of what had transpired in Aldunn has likely spread throughout Idunia, the Empire, and perhaps beyond... birds fly as fast as lips speak.]

+squints+

based

A song written in tribute to Cursed Children. May it bring you strength in difficult times. Ever March by the bard, Wyrm-Wood ✦•················•✦•··················•✦✦•················•✦•··················•✦✦•················•✦•··················•✦ Like a moth to a flame, We bearers of black blood trudge forth, Like ancestors before us we do the same, Attracted to the flame. Forward we ever march, Knowing that the fire breathes of dire deeds But ever forward we march! Our roads are filled with disdain And those of closed hearts, Some wielding templar flame or twisting the rules like an art! We moths flit in the dark, Trying to not fall apart as we search, for the flame that most would say is our bane. In truth the flame we seek is one most of us will never reach. Which flame is offered up to our kind? Is it the fires that birthed us, Or the embers that pursue our trails. In truth the flame we seek is the one most frail. Forward we ever march, Knowing that the fire breathes of dire deeds But ever forward we march! In order to rise from the ashes, The burning must come first! We bearers of black blood trudge on, much like our ancestors before and those who carry on. We moths flit in the dark, For the flame we seek, is the far off glow of Avalon. ✦•················•✦•··················•✦✦•················•✦•··················•✦✦•················•✦•··················•✦

Only one man says butler with such enthusiasm lol I am excited to see part two of this forum

Somewhere Wyrm-Wood reads over these lyrics, already putting his merry mood into an all time high. Perhaps things were looking up.