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cloverhuh

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  1. "Well, they most certainly aren't barbaric," comments the alchemist amidst his journey back after being captured and freed by them.
  2. "How very intriguing," murmurs lowly the alchemist, peering towards his beloved partner after reading the news of the upcoming proclaimed war. "We do still have that supply of Blasting Potions, yes?"
  3. Merlin Altwegg cannot quite get rid of the taste of cigarettes from his mouth. He should have never trusted the offering of alcohol from a particular northern Salvian.
  4. While harvesting the ripe wheat fields of Avistra, a particular man wearing a fine overcoat reads the missive. "I approve of this message," is simply commented in regards to such.
  5. ----[ A Path of Beasts ]---- A letter rests upon the young lord’s desk, sitting patiently in wait among the many dozen trinkets and alchemical instruments sprawled across its wooden surface. A long stretch of particular vines seemingly crawls around and up the wooden frame, accompanied by various plant life. The vines trail toward the corner of the table, where a small portrait of three certain young siblings sits. The door to the room opens, and through it enters Merlin, slowly meandering toward the desk. It is as though the young lord is already aware of his presence, slowly slipping off the gloves that provide comfort for his significantly scarred hands and reaching for the letter, only to pause. Instead, he reaches for the small portrait, gripping and caressing the ornate wooden frame. He examines the portrait with a warm smile, reminiscing for a time. But the past was behind him - the present was now - and the future was tomorrow. He had to confront both his present and future. He lowers the small portrait back to its place on his desk, then reaches for the letter, promptly opens it, and slips out the contents to read. . . . It did not come as a surprise to the young lord, and it wouldn't have even if he had not been warned beforehand of such a predicament. After all, this was a path of beasts... "...It is only inevitable that the falcon will, in time, cross paths with another within the same skies, just as the bear will, in time, cross paths with another within the same woods, especially when both seek to rule their respective dominions," he wrote on his own letter in response. "Beasts do not possess titles, heirs, kings, or queens. They needn't join one another within a grand chamber to discuss the right of succession, or cross blades for such within an arena. I envy them for that..." He continues writing, "I do not hold any semblance of resentment or hatred for you, my dear brother. We are of the same blood. We are brothers. Nothing under Heaven can change that - certainly not this. I trust your judgment as much as I trust my own. But you misunderstand. Change is not instantaneous. It is slow, dangerous, and merciless. I am not idle. Simply because I choose to educate myself with books instead of a blade, women, or mead does not mean I am idle." "But I do not hold it against you for possessing such thoughts. All I ask is that you do not underestimate your own blood, especially our dear grandparents. They do not hang by a thread. They will not so easily croak, and certainly will not anytime soon. I know that for certain. Which is one of many reasons I have been focusing on my studies, for I would rather do them now than when our dear grandparents are no longer with us." "Now, my dear brother, if you seek a challenge for succession, then you will find it. I will not deny such a challenge. We can cross blades again as we have many times as young boys. However, I request this of you: do not take this path of beasts, as many hundreds of sons have, for there is always another. Another we can both tread without our blades inevitably crossing. Because I know very well that you regret it. So I ask to speak with you. To cross our words instead of blades. This needn't end in one of us shedding blood." The first son of Peregrine Altwegg, Merlin Altwegg, Heir of Avistra, Baron of Trueberg
  6. Name and Titles: Oberon Affiliation: N/A
  7. cloverhuh

    cloverhuh

    Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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.” With a curt, respectful bow, he promptly went to sit on the cushion. "My story, you ask? It is nothing special, miss." A bout of silence, with the occasional platter of a droplet cascading onto metal. "Still, it would be disrespectful of me not to share. I’m no different from any scholar or common man. Just another traveler from a quiet coastal town, hoping to see the world’s beauty, and all that it may offer. I’ve stood on the peaks of great mountains, wandered through deep, cool caverns. I've explored and studied all kinds of places." He pauses, then leans forwards with great, though calm intent. "Tell me, miss, what grand sceneries and sights have you witnessed? I’d love to hear them."
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