Goon

I really appreciate anything low fantasy. “grimdark” if I’m feeling edgy, but I absolutely love fantasy that’s grounded in realism. hard to pinpoint an exact reference, but if you pay attention to the events I run, a lot of them are warcraft based. I can’t read because I’m not a nerd, but ecosystems: more specifically void hallows :drool: I know that’s a boring pick, but that’s the kind of sh*t that makes the world start to come alive. favorite book is a non-fictional piece, huey newton’s revolutionary suicide. perhaps a strange fella to admire but there’s value. I wouldn’t write lore. maybe, but probably not. Kujo and I started but what is required is a bit intense, guidelines are pretty stringent and the chances of getting anything complex are slim to none. I’d rather not. Maybe I’ll write some creature pieces for the ETs and players but nah. most meaningful brought a tear to my eye, and I’m a grown man who repressed emotion so it’s not easy: my character just took like 6 years to run to Mexico in order to escape the jaws of justice, and when he came back, his aunt was the first person he saw. minty did a really good job of playing a mother figure who missed their child. think it made me think of my mom and the fact I need to call her see above man. I should’ve had this answer prepared. uuh, favorite memory? It’s so hard to pinpoint man. any moment that makes me giddy like a little kid in a VC, really. clapping and giggling, smiling ear to ear, the things that make me want to continue the arcs I’m following. the most recent of these was ryloth’s character putting out a 2,000 mina bounty for mine. never felt more alive. I actually wanted to write a post rambling about a few things; namely the player base in aversion to RP conflict and tendency to be d*ckheads OOCly instead. this is minecraft. it’s a video game. your character can and should die one day. your titles mean nothing. It’s okay for you and other people to have fun. It’s okay to lose sometime. It’s okay not to win all the time. It was COVID and I wanted to play DND but my friends were wasting time. And somehow I was reminded of LOTC. Surprised it was still so active, and it was cool to see how much it grew dude I’ll listen to anything but I feel like I’ve got the music tastes of a black man in the 1980s lmao no. you’ve grown to be one of my favorite people on the server. I feel like there’s a handful of people who are reluctant to interact with you because I suppose your internet persona is intimidating or strange but you’re one of the sweetest dude I’ve met in my tenure on this server. fat brain ideas and you aren’t the weirdo you might pretend to be in roleplay. it’s genuine with you, I know you don’t have devious ulterior motives and I really appreciate that about you hot take: striga. just give it to me, I followed the rules, I don’t deserve this injustice. The COVID-19 pandemic has caused the disruption of supply chains and ... of iPads and Mac computers and will soon impact iPhone production. orange :) I had a therapist character for a bit. He was revolutionizing the way mental health was approached in Orenian medical studies but moreover, it served as a checkpoint for people to really get in touch with the way their characters were thinking, what their characters were dealing with. really made the players think, and also made me get interpersonal, tap into my people skills and limited psychological studies knowledge. I got uninspired though, let him die on the shelf. started a new job today, boring stuff. but exciting all the same. I like money and having money :) I always have really vivid dreams, always taking place in some strange dalíesque universe. but the ones that stick with me the most are the ones grounded in reality. been watching squid game, so I had a dream about this Asia-based freemason/Illuminati group that I was so close to cracking the code on before my brother’s dog woke me up to let her out. wish I finished that one.. would’ve escaped the matrix. I think Jack, the first paladin. he’s got a lot of history and understanding of the universe. and hes humble. I hate characters that are full of themselves, as well as players that are full of their character. It’s always a breath of fresh air to interact with him, and I always hope my paladin ends up like this in some way youre a sweet pea, unbaed. I’m grateful we’ve fallen into the small intersects that we have because its sorta hard to find people you can get on easy with sometimes. differing ideals regarding what’s fun for everyone and I think you embody that. You’re a caring, thoughtful and non-problematic person and I think that’s really evident and I like having people like that around in the community to juxtapose whats sort of normal in these parts

I grew up. (Unlike some people) It would’ve been a dumb question anyways I live in the middle of nowhere It’s hard to nail one specific answer down for this, really. But the immediate answer I think of makes me feel like a high school football player who’s biggest accomplishment was scoring a game winning touchdown that one time, because I think about my character’s war days in the inferi war. the days before staff, days before oren, and really the days before I started using a lot of discord to orchestrate anything really. just rawdog, log in, rp saving a bunch of slaves while almost dying and then log out feeling like I genuinely accomplished in the video game

Officially ten years on this server. If you’re wondering why you’ve never heard of me though, it’s because I haven’t played for ten years. When I signed up in Aegis, I thought you had to PK on death (mechanical included) so I did— twice. In the span of two weeks. So I quit for nine years because I didn’t want to make another skin. This is probably the only AMA I’ll ever make, so, ask me anything.

They have killed men before for speaking their truth. Many times. I would not be the first of history's martyrs. ALICJO VERRANA took a moment to peruse over the bounty, letting forth a snort of amusement- reading again. Perhaps he had not expected to see his name advertised so boldly, but it coaxed a smirk all the same. The man plucked one of the missives from the board, "Quite the reward, though." He admitted aloud with a tipping head and contemplative features, as if for a moment, even he considered turning in himself. He held the missive against his wall, jutting a pin through it to hang it up- a proud smirk. "Least we will make them earn it."

TO THE FALL OF DRAGONKIN II: AN EXPULSION OF CORRUPTION To the denizens of Almaris: It is with immense vindication that this missive is penned; That the crusade against The False Lord Azdromoth and his willfully ignorant followers persists in full effect- with progress, now, to write home. In the last letter I addressed to the realm’s entirety, I proclaimed that the purge of the unnatural and the unholy had officially begun. I proclaimed that the darkspawns, namely the dragonkin, would begin to wither as they are exposed to the radiant light of justice; And I meant what I said. No longer should they feel safe and complacent among us. No longer will we, the descendants, tolerate their fallacious or blatant heresy. No longer will we let the sun set upon the realm in which we raise our children. Through collaborative efforts of the Champions of Light and the cunning leaders of these various nations we have worked hand-in-hand with; we have located and uprooted many of the False Lord’s cattle. No longer can these men putter among as if they are without ill-intent. Our most recent victory sees two followers of the False Lord Azdromoth exposed for all their peers to see; two men associated with Oren and Haense, banished from the Empire and forced to flee to whichever place will tolerate abhorrent fugitives of the unholy sort. Of course, we would have preferred to see their end, but only a roach would run from the light; they have shown their true forms. SIMON PRUVIA & ANTONIUS HOREN SIMON PRUVIA, a herald of Azdromoth. A roguishly handsome Heartlander man with relatively short brown hair, bearing scars against his face, covered by an eyepatch. Donned in the attire of an Imperial; red shawl over whites and beiges. Check the man’s arms or upper back for inscriptions of the dragon’s eye tattoo- that is the mark that confirms he is a follower of the False Lord. He was last seen fleeing to Haense, where it is likely he will hide since he is no longer welcome to his Provins Estate. ANTONIUS HOREN, Azdrazi follower of Azdromoth. A roguishly handsome Heartlander man with long brown that covers over his face, blue eyes. THE AZDRAZI HAVE THE ABILITY TO SHIFT THEIR FEATURES, IT IS POSSIBLE HE HAS ALREADY ASSUMED NEW FORM. It is much more difficult to check if he is Nephilim while he is in his descendant form; it is best that you reach out to those versed in dealing with such creatures before approaching on your own. He was last seen surrounding the Pruvia-Provins Estate- but he would be foolish to remain. Both men are a danger, and should not be approached alone. To the Worshippers of the unnatural: Bloodhunters, fogswallowers, dragonmen, and to any other daemonspawn and practitioner with the mental capacity to read what I write; You are given the choice, right now. To turn yourself willingly to us, or to be taken by force; meant for a trial that the Aenguls may bear witness to. What is to come for you and your apologizers is inevitable, and your time in our realm nears its conclusion; give yourself an honorable departure. Seek redemption for how far you have let yourself fall. For what you have become. Lest we set aside our cries for vengeance, and take up the yearns for justice in its stead. Act accordingly, darkspawn. Signed, The Grand Justiciar of the Brothers of Virtue Alicjo Verrana

the main character is sipping tea in the imperial palace right now, they haven't been awoken to their fullest potential yet

“Beneath their noses?” A disheveled man queries aloud in a vain shock. “How foul..” After his perusal of the wordy missive, the man left the sheet awaiting the next person’s read, murmuring beneath his breath in a brief prayer. “Dio, save your cattle.”

A cigarette's translucent wisps were the only thing to obscure a man's view of the riverbank; the riverbank that split the land between his 'home' and the greater western city. The outskirts. So, surely it would take some time for that letter to reach its destination. It's been a year, though. No response. Perhaps that was by design, though. A LETTER TO ANTON FIORE D'AMATO: It would take awhile for my letter to reach him. It is not often they collect parcels from this place. Perhaps that is why he has yet to write me in return, surely. A hand took to waft those clouds of smoke away before taking yet another drag; a fruitless cycle if it continued. Symbolic, perhaps, to the letters he sent that came with no reply. ANOTHER LETTER TO ANTON FIORE D'AMATO: "Anton is dead." He murmured to himself, as if to come to terms with such a statement. Surely, the man would have to tell his children and his wife what happened to their relative. He didn't want to lie, but perhaps they were better without the truth. We will cross that bridge, I suppose. Whether his rest was deserved or not, it was all the same. Anton is gone. "Rest now, cousin." Solemn, he called; churning the cherry-lit cigarette's tip against the stone wall.

[This missive is public knowledge and is meant to be accessible to all readers.] TO THE FALL OF DRAGONKIN A SUMMONS OF UNITY To the denizens of Almaris: In response to the Fall of Ando Alur, it is with immense vindication that this missive is penned; That the crusade against The False Lord Azdromoth and his willfully ignorant followers is a divinely righteous undertaking. The echous call of the tormented voidal creation stated just so; to make no mistake; that foolish descendants and those of Dragonkin have caused this ruination. Forget not that the tear beneath the Soaring City was only begun by practitioners of voidal manipulation, but it was ultimately deepened by corrupted servants of the malevolent dragon and their misguided meddling. To assume they had well-intentions would be unaligned to the land they have left scorned and scarred in their wake- typical of their kind. Since their otherworldly creation, the Azdrazi have continued to be the bane of all of our peoples. Their shared sympathies with the world-consuming Inferi and the destruction left behind from their carelessness in Ando Alur both act as testament to such a plaguing existence. Furthermore, it is with certainty that I assure you; they feel no remorse for what they have caused. If you’ve the displeasure of perusal through their own missive regarding the incident, you will see that they openly mock you. They dare for you to admonish them or question the validity of their misaction; in fallacious elitism. This missive is meant to call forth a uniting of all fronts; all fronts unaffiliated with the foul perversions of the afflicted dragonmen. All fronts to equal the same conclusion, and all fronts that seek the same victory; the complete alienation and eradication of the drake’s scourge. The Men and Women of the Canonist Church, The Qualasheen Followers of Allah, Worshippers of The Aspects and The Spirits, The Forgotten Templars of Malchediael, and to all other wrongfully-defined ‘Laymen’ of Descendants; Let us raise banners with a common enemy in sight. Allow this message to act as extension of the olive branch; to absolve all squabbles and differences of past between your people and These Champions of Xan- least until our shared draconic menace is spurned. Allow this message to act as proclamation; that the Crusade against Azdromoth’s Scourge is inevitable and imminent. No longer should the taint of Azdromoth feel at home within our realm. Cull your forces, and greet your neighbors in arms; and prepare for what is to come: The PURGE of Darkspawns and all their affiliations. Signed, The Grand Justiciar of the Brothers of Virtue Alicjo Verrana The Commander of the Order of the Golden Flower Aer’dir Mallos Wyrmstalker of the Lions of Lorraine Sister Shrike Adjudicator of the Covenant of The Sunlit Path Gaelûnduyn Ephoth

I've opted out of receiving birds because I think the idea of heat-seeking avians that warpspeed across the continent and meet their mark every time is alarmingly dumb, but I'm not sure if the bulk of the player base is willing to find alternatives outside of those given to them. Mailman and courier rp would be really cool to see, but a slew of its own problems including the potential to metagame contents of a letter. Moreover, very few would be willing to take the backseat enough to see something like this through; their character's stories are very important to them, and it would be a waste of their time to foster the self-sustaining world in mechanically creative ways without serious incentive. So begrudgingly I say keep the birds, or invest R&D time into a mailbox plugin. But there is a beauty in serendipity. The joys of being a new player and frequenting a spot to see familiar faces as if it were clockwork- incomparable to the "hey bro wanna rp?" "ya ok meet me in providence."

“There is.” Antonius chimed aloud in an eager concurrence upon reading the short letter. He almost hadn’t noticed the key that came accompanied with the message, tucked taut into the corner of the envelope, but it was well within his possession now. It wasn’t a far walk to that agreed upon locale, so the man made it before nightfall. His instinct was to pound upon the door with a closed fist’s side- revelation struck now that he was granted the means of passage. You’ve one hundred kids, and not one to greet me? Not that he would recognize them, anyways. Not even the help.. A meager shrug, unhurried steps then. And he waited. Where the man had instructed. Patiently, first. But as patience wore thin, the curiosity festered. And after curiosity satiated; a perturbedness to disguise worry. But he waited still. “Unlike you to tardiness, Viktor.”

GOONART. pixels of your pixels. Greetings, Lord and Lordettes. My internet pseudonym is Motherchild, though maybe you know me better as Goon. I come before you now with an advertisement regarding the pixel art you may have seen floating around in one Discord server or another. I’ve been making pixel art on-and-off for a couple of years now, typically pro bono, but I’ve finally decided to officially put my work on the market. Each piece is done in my own style, but each piece is different, of course; so there isn’t ever really a set price for any piece, it usually varies depending on what is requested- but I try to keep it as low as I can. I’m in it for the love of the game, really. (but money is cool, I need money) So without further delay, I present my services: *all prices vary, depending on complexity and expected completion date.* THE STANDALONE CHARACTER You could expect to pay anywhere from $10 - $15 USD per character. You could expect completion anywhere from 1 day - 1 week. THE GROUP PHOTO THE FATHER CIRCLE (circa. 2021) @WestCarolina THE FALCONE FAMILY, 1820 (circa. 2021) THE BEAST TAMERS (circa. 2021) THE LAST LIGHT (circa. 2020) Typically offered at a discounted rate if you buy in bulk, though, you could expect to pay anywhere from $8 - $12 USD per character. You could expect completion anywhere from 3 days - 2 weeks. THE BACKDROP UNDER THE WILLOW @Excitedly & @Witchlore ALPHA CARRINGTON & LORILEI MARIJKE @peachcool & @devvy An additional charge on top of the cost for characters, you could expect to pay anywhere from $10 - $30 for an added background. You could expect completion anywhere from 1 week - 3 weeks. note: the addition of just a single-color backdrop is entirely free. c’mon now. THE ANIMATION An additional charge on top of any other inclusions; animations take quite a bit of time and effort, especially depending on their complexity. Inquire about your desired animation, though expect at least +$30 for animation* You could expect completion anywhere from 2 weeks - 1 month [max]. When submitting your commission, be sure to: 1) reach out and check if I’m available to take your commission. If not, I’ll add you to the waiting list and get to you as soon as a slot opens. 2) include your envisionment; characters, accessories, backdrops, animations. 3) give me the deets character heights, the skin/reference pics, how many emotes it takes to boot up your transfigured sword and the important trinkets you have hanging from it 4) (optional) add in your budget if you aren’t super sure what you want/can afford, toss a number at me, I’ll make it work To make a long story short, prices are flexible and vary based on what I think the finished piece would be worth. I like ambitious projects but be mindful of the time spent. I'll try just about anything so lay your ideas on me. I prefer money upfront, as it motivates me further and keeps me accountable for completing your art in the designated time; though, I do reserve the right to deny a commission if it is too complex or simply unmotivating. In such a case, I’d certainly pledge a refund- a man is only his reputation. CASHAPP / PAYPAL / VENMO In that order of preference. you can comment here, but I mean... Contact me on Discord: goon#8136 goonart for the artgoons.

i'll explain when i get off the shitter /reserved

I think I wanna talk about Alicjo, arguably the only black guy on the server. Bald Southeron with a beard, you might've seen him. I never write posts about him and I've kinda stopped playing him because protag RP isn't fun if there isn't an event to be the hero at- but he's had a good run so far. I've been playing for over a year now- started him at 25, now he's coming up on 80 soon. He started out as a pretty jolly fella, sailor archetype who was canonically a simp. I used to just do tavern RP because as as a new player, I didn't know what else to do or how else to learn about the world- developed a mild alcoholism, was fun. Very neutral about most things- thought war was stupid, didn't care much for politics, didn't care much about the existence of the aengudaemonicas. Fell in with a ruffian crowd, opened a fish shop and all of the ruffians used to hang out in front causing trouble. Did some tough guy RP, and eventually met this Tier 1 paladin who he'd have philosophical exchanges with regarding morality- started slowly shaping him to be a more virtuous person. Then the Inferi War started, thrusted into a position of command. PTSD started dissipating all of that outward jolliness he held, an impatience for the frivolities that men seemed to consume themselves with. Saw Xan on the battlefield and was like "Oh, I guess this is real.." After the war, that Tier 1 paladin became a Tier 5 paladin and made Alicjo a paladin, and like all good Xannic men, he's just a washed-up, very repressed war vet who spends all day tinkering in his forge. So from a *laughs heartily* type of man to a *stare scrutinously* type of man; when he started, he was fat, couldn't read, and he definitely didn't give a sh*t about the Aengudaemonica. Now, he's a jaded war vet who devoutly follows Xan and his teachings- just teaching the next generation what he can before he inevitably dies of old age. He's definitely a lot sweeter to women than he is men. I wanted women to be his downfall, so he'd blindly trust the word of a woman more than he would of a man who's telling him the same exact thing. In his old age, he's kind of relieved of that curse somewhat- but old habits die hard, the man is still a simp deep down. Anduin Rhys Dering :'), the afformentioned Tier 1 Paladin played by @Covey Brotherly vibes, despite Anduin being an elf, so naturally that comes with a healthy rivalry. Single handedly brought my man from the edge of ruffianhood to a life of virtuous purpose. At this point, he's known Anduin for the majority of his life, so he would trust him inherently with all things. The fans even wrote two fan fictions of our characters, this must be what fame feels like. Uhh. I don't know, this one's kinda hard to answer. I, personally, think the coolest thing he's ever done is led a lot of the liberation for thousands of Qualasheen slaves- but he's not even allowed to hang out with the Qualasheen people because he cheated on the princess. Ironic. just imagine a really handsome black dude. like really handsome. Don't let your OOC feelings dictate a character's RP. That's all I'll say as not to air out dirty laundry. Made a pivotal choice for the character that shaped a great portion of his life, and while I wouldn't take it back, it certainly isn't something he might've done. Since then, I've been really true to the character- and it's hard/boring to RP someone so staunchly conservative about most things. So I don't really play him. Until it's time to give my students a lesson or until a darkspawn event arises. But when I do, I always appreciate how much he's grown. Protags are increasingly more interesting when their personality isn't 'hero complex.'

If anyone needs to be asking you anything, you need to be asking yourself why Natasha still doesn’t have a husband.

Skin 5 Bid: 400 Discord: goon#8136

skin 5 starting bid: 300

“Jorden?” Echoed rhetorically the voice of Alicjo Verrana, layered in concern and disbelief upon hearing of her quiet passing. The news had coaxed the old Southeron into a long silence of deliberation, the brows against his forehead quaked briefly, and his lips pursed thin as his tongue idly rolled against them. Finally contributing a sandpaper utterance, he rasped, “I see.” The bearded Southeron picked his head from his aversion, offering then a forced, wry smile and a bob of his head- one that was meant to dismiss the messenger before falling back into his stool, taking a prolonged inhale through flaring nostrils. — • — You see, when the two met, Jorden was dying- and it would not be the last time he saw her on that brink either. The most vivid of his first memories with her was compressing a gash against her neck, long enough to stall the profuse bleeding until she could receive more of an aid than his novice abilities could provide. So, perhaps the news of her passing should not be so much of a surprise to him, but all the same, of course it was. How many surgeries had he sat through? How many punches had he seen her take, how many beasts had he watched corner her, and how many limbs did he watch her lose? Though, none of it ever seemed to slow her for longer than the doctor recommended, good as new with a new metal bit to boast. “Give it enough time, you’ll lose the other one.” A mirthful jest meant for the Brashton as she awoke from her leg’s replacement surgery, accompanied by a gentle pat against her shoulder. Though, the coy smirk against his expressions would soon after dissipate the longer he looked down at her fallen form. “I’m sorry.” He admitted in a hushed tone, once more patting against the woman’s shoulder. “Your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.” He rationalized with her- with himself, before seeing himself out for a smoke. She was under his orders when it happened, so he couldn’t help to feel responsible for what had happened to her leg, even still, thirty some-odd years later. And even still, thirty some-odd years later, whenever Alicjo stared at a crackling flame for too long, he was brought back to the time he denied Brashton’s requisition of revision to their plan. “We should have listened to each other more.” A thought would tell him in retrospect, coaxing his hands to a clasp in front of him. A bull and a bear, although prone to butt heads, they very seldom did. They understood each other, that Brashton and the Verrana. They understood each other and fought the same fights. And though he did very little to ease her when she would begin to tremble at their shared traumas, it was not from a lack of effort- it was simply that he felt too similar for his own comfort. Jorden's anguish only made him fear his own, the anguish that he tried greatly to bury. A reminder that he was responsible, direct or in. And even though he never shared the thought, he was grateful she never said it. — • — An anxiously shaking leg starting now, Alicjo held his gaze against clasped hands that rested atop his knees- intermittently huffing and puffing quietly as repressed men do amidst mourning. He tried to recall their better times, something to lift the weight of another fallen comrade. The drinks and the jeers, those victories that they shared under the same tatters- a wry smile began a tug, sounding that amused snort he often does. "Damn, it’s so hard to find ones you trust," especially at their shared age. Perhaps her passing wasn’t such a bad thing though, because it meant she no longer was tortured by an ever-decaying form. That she was no longer plagued with traumas to haunt her youth’s decisions. But it meant Alicjo lost one of his greatest comrades. That a lot of people lost one of the most benevolent souls to grace the realms. A reminder then- of the finite nature of it all. Weep in silence, for a warrior cannot cry until their fight is won. — • —

AN ODE TO FATHERHOOD FALCONE A legacy began by bullish pursuit, littered with quotidian degeneracy and misguided efforts. Plagued by blind loyalty and insatiable hunger. Whether you felt it first hand or heard it whispered within the flock, the Falcone name began to carry a notorious weight. Through the sins of a father and a father before, all of whom did what they felt they had to for theirs; and what a taint against that name the Imperial Army had sung so often. How does that clichéd saying go? "Like father, like son," right? Though, perhaps that isn't all fair to say, as you cannot compare the weight of sin. You cannot compare the ramifications of a son's choices to the actions of his father. All a child grows to become is an indirect mirror, though even a washroom's mirror does not display the same world as it appears. Stark distinctions, though, "not far from the tree." “HE DID WHAT HE HAD TO... SAME AS HIS FATHER, AND HIS BEFORE THAT.” - ANASTASIA O'ROURKE, CIRCA 1805 FATHERHOOD Despite the mass of tales one could recall, Gino Falcone was not a poor father. For he made sure to instill but a few esteemed virtues to his kin: respect and the demand of, and the unconditional preservation of kinship. Discipline and understanding were commanded of his offspring. And though he was not always accountable to his own word, there were determined beliefs he would never betray-- especially his belief that family is absolute, be it one garnered or one by birthright. Gino poured every ounce of his being to prepare his children for what was to come as they grew-- though as descendant nature is, it was not enough, even for him. To consider Gino Falcone a poor father would only be a testament to the thanklessness that is parenthood. A father his own now, this has become glaringly more apparent to the still young Cosimo Antony. “LA FAMIGLIA NON COMBATTE LA FAMIGLIA.” - GINO FALCONE, CIRCA 1794 FALCONE (REPRISE) Left, now, without a parental figure who was of lineage ascent, perhaps the young Illatian would be fortunate enough to no longer need one; twenty-six years now in the realm of unforgiving mortal existence. For him to have witnessed the world he knew collapse beneath the wheels of his chair, and be able to walk anew amongst esteemed peers, the boy had more than enough in experience to nourish the inherent desire to preserve one’s self and his lineage. Yes, perhaps he finally outgrew the need for guidance from those who came before him. Why, he was the now owner of the Falcone Estate- surely he needed to have all of those answers expected of him? But no, this is only a weak defense to save for heartache; the belief he was above the pursuit of further learning would only perpetuate the same cycles he and his kin would be fell to. That is ignorance, or perhaps arrogance. Though, it would be nice to have deference from a relatable face. “MACCHIE DI SANGUE, I SOLDI NO.” - GIADA D'AMATO, CIRCA 1797 LUDOVICA "I pray the generations to follow will bring themselves closer and closer to God- with each iteration.” A passing thought echoed as Cosimo watched a young child giddily prance about. Almost four years now, so she had not yet been subject to the fruits of the forbidden, and it was apparent in Cosimo’s watchful eye that he would will it to remain so. Though, you cannot shelter the youth, as did Cosimo’s mother try. You can only offer what you have come to know and hope that they respond accordingly, as did Cosimo’s father try. And even then, there is no guarantee of result: a child’s fate left to the world they succumb to. This girl was last born of his sisters, Ludovica Francesca Falcone, Gino’s last notable mark on this world; and it was readily apparent she was his as she palpably mirrored the man in every way- only chiseled to fit a more feminine feature. Even in her early mannerisms did she resemble Gino, a scary thought for Cosimo, though he was arguably no better than his father. Worse, perhaps. “Depends who you ask.” So, he could only hope she turned out the saintess she already was. "Guardi, Cosi! Look!” The little Illatian cried in joy as she hurried toward the man who sat upon a bench, holding high a wettened mina she had fished from the Palace Garden’s fountain. The clambering of her footsteps against the paved grounds brought a reminiscent smile against the man’s face as he was unmoving in her approach, only snorting his amusement. "You can keep it.” She told him, out of breath while forcing the wet coin into the hand that did not hold up his chin. The man turned his head toward that coin, brushing a thumb against it as if to dry it off before glancing upon her once more, uttering in a gentle response, “Grazie, piccola.” The girl gave a vigorous nod of her head and a childish giggle before bolting off once more to retrieve another, an arm’s length deep into the rather motionless waters, and he did nothing but clench gently against that mark. “GOD, SHE'S THE SPITTING IMAGE OF HIM.” - COSIMO FALCONE, CIRCA 1813

A bearded Southeron squints his eyes as he reads at the missive against the tavern's wall, a simple shake of his head as an arrogance littered his musing utterance, "Who does not know how to throw a dart?"

Red Cloaked 260