The_Very_Cranky_Varangian

(( MC name: Cranky_Varangian Name: Selidor the Pale Vote for Okarir’maehr: ( XX ) Silvos Sythaerin ( ) Elahern Aeth'sulier ( ) Olrin Maehr'tehral Vote for Okarir’nor: ( XX ) Elathion Dagre'sae ( ) Aiera Sulla

A crow flies from a tower of Caer Bann bearing letters for the pair. “We await you in Caer Bann, but bring haste with you, for my patience is as short as my little toe. Did I mention that it broke in half while I was skiing? We will interview you when you arrive to make sure you are suitable. -Sigemær Wodansson“ Accepted! Check your discord inboxes for a friend request!

A mercenary captain sniffs the air, he smells cash money on the wind. He just wonders which side will pay more...

WELCOME, BANNANA!

Ser Rolando Castelo enjoys the weather somewhere on a white sand beach. The elder knight shrugs, himself leaving those sorts of affairs to younger men to sort out. He reclines on a hammock and rests his 80 -year old bones as he sips a drink from a coconut.

A masked man wonders why Renatus didn’t follow through and destroy the rebels in the city, installing the much more capable, loyal, and brilliantly handsome Demetrio Montelliano as its leader. He sighs and tosses his picket sign into the river.

Sigemaer ponders: "Perhaps we should now send Dr. Hammelfat to tend to their wounded."

*Sigemaer inspects Dr. Hammelfat’s medical license. He then walks away shrugging.* “We said we had a doctor, we didn’t say he knew what he was doing.”

An old man, standing on a hillside overlooking the battle, bears a wrinkled grin. He turns and heads back into the shadows of the forest behind him.

The old man slowly and carefully writes his name on the document. "Ser Rolando de Castelo"

Sitting somewhere by the dying campfires dotting the ravine, a man pulls his frost-wolf pelt cloak tighter around himself. The man had grown old and gray, just like the land that birthed him. The man knew Atlas all too well, for it was there that his story began. The man plants the haft of his Warhammer into the snow, using it as a support to hoist himself up. His thumb rests over the engraving of two figures fighting a wyvern on the side of the hammer’s head as his other fingers wrap around top of the hammer. He pulls himself to his feet. This winter was a cold one. The winds whipped about the canyon – racing through the crevices in the steep ice cliff faces. Deep gashes through the snow trail the man as he tows along a large box on a sled. His progress was slowed by the snow and the weight he carried, but he knew if he continued through the night he would catch up with the refugee caravan. Perhaps there he could find the rest of his family. As the sun sets a chorus of howls begins to echo around the ravine’s walls. The man mouths a silent prayer as he presses on, using the moon’s glow to light his way. Almost there. As daylight breaks, the smoke of distant fires lazily rises towards the southern sky. The man looks to the north, the land where he had married his beloved and fathered his children. Part of him wishes to turn back, to keep fighting, and to take back his land from the Vaeyl. The man looks to the south, a land unknown to him filled with danger and opportunity. He inhales deeply and takes his first step outside the continent in which he was born. Sitting somewhere by the dying campfires dotting the ravine, a man pulls his frost-wolf pelt cloak tighter around himself. The man had grown old and gray, just like the land that birthed him. Ser Rolando Castelo knew Atlas all too well, for it was there that his story began. Sitting with him are his children, his children’s children, his friends, and his allies. This world was for them to inherit. This, the old man knew.

[!] Roland eyes the Wyvern scale armor – it’d make a fine replacement for his cockatrice scale-shirt. Name: Rolando de Castillo Username: Cranky_Varangian Giveaway Item #1: Wyvern Scale Armor Giveaway Item #2: Wyvern Scale Armor Giveaway Item #3: Wyvern Scale Armor

After bingo? You got it.

Ser Rolando de Castelo sips at his coconut drink as he relaxes on a hammock somewhere in Atlas. “Rhys is retiring? I’ll have to teach the old goat how to play shuffleboard.”

Hah! There's another ball going on in Carolstadt at the same time. Seems like a popular day for balls. ?