ayresalex

never

you make me wanna vomit. like not your build, (even tho its horrendous) but you itself. please dont ever post something like this again.

imp = imperial you goon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you want painting painted in medieval times or paintings of medieval things?

double posted please ban immediately.))

man this sucks.

wow hilarity hahahahah!!!!

Abram then shortly afterwards walks away.

this is harassment

are they triggering you, cisscum?

wow hilarity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

8/5!!!

yea nothings working.

http://imgur.com/RyRKSXu

or 

http://imgur.com/Ix4rURG

hello friends of lotc wide and far!

i cant seem to add an avatar doesnt matter what size or format it simply says 'failed to set new photo'

this makes me very sad as i wish to share my avatar with everyone so my friends can see what i like!!!!!!!

thank u!

this is disgusting and i want to see this removed.

Abram strings his bow up and tests its pull. He draws, and figures it'd be enough to put an arrow through a Seventian or ten.

"Exterminatus."

Axl caught my mace.

i will forever be scarred.

troubling times ahead my friends

"Is this 'house' recognized as nobility?"

i hope you post an effective ban appeal m8

Post what you always groove too.

Relevant : 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4VAdWJXyFk#t=51

AND

((Oh yea I was Aedric lmfao fun stuff)))

Abram Uhlfelder, was an exile.

He didn't know why, only that he had been brought into this world and they had been running ever since. He did not remember his mother, and when he asked his father about her, he refused to respond. Abram asked why they were running. "I did a very bad thing, lad. Close your eyes and rest easy for a bit." Was a typical response he got from his father, Ulric.

As a child, his father would be wary of guardsmen and would rip "Wanted" posters down. So, Abram made the logical assumption that his father was a criminal on the run. Murder, perhaps, as his father kept a wicked sharp edge on his dirk and made sure his yew-bow was well maintained. Abram and Ulric would travel from town to town. Finding work wherever his father could while Abram went to go beggar some food off a farmer or some coin off the local merchants.

This was their livelyhood, and until the day Abram turned 18, his father was stricken with illness weeks later. Abram brought him too an inn, where he tried to break his fathers fever over the night but to no avail. When the sun came out the next morning, his father looked at him with wary, tired eyes and told him everything that Abram wanted to know. The murder, his mother, and, his inheritance.

"You're the goddamn last of the Norsem line, laddy. Your great gran-da was knighted an' crowned by the good emperor. We've been on the run ever since. Now, take my bow, and put it to use as I did when I was your age. Join up wif' a house. Make a living. Earn lands an' titles an' restore some honour to the name, eh?"

Abram didn't know what to say, or do, as the last of Ulric's life drained from his eyes. Abram frowned, gazing on this 65 year old man he called a father. He felt an urge of hatred, got up, took what was left of the coin, and never looked back.

A full circle. Years later, Abram has returned to his former homelands with a new face and an eager aspiration to make a name for himself. 

Abram laughs.

Abram shoulders his pack, ready for the journey ahead.