Monkee

“Haelun’or? Incapable of apprehending a single individual without devoting their entire army to it? It's more likely than you think,” notes a popcorn-munching Snow Elf.

“They make obvious the fact that they intended on simply returning the cultists to their land. It is lamentable that they went back on their word,” states Vytrek.

“These are not the demands we laid forth,” comments Vytrek as he reads over the missive, awaiting the official Fennic response.

Application [Ooc] Username: Aeldrin Activity Rating (How many days/hours do you play per week?): varies Discord: have it Timezone: est [RP] Name: Vytrek Tundrak Gender: Male Place of residence: Citadel Race/Sub-race/Culture: Snow Elf Do you swear obedience to the Princedom of Fenn and the Grand Prince?: Yes

Vytrek Tundrak sharpens his spear.

“Death to the cultists and those who harbor them,” declares Vytrek Tundrak.

“I will roundhouse kick Vira’ker and Sutica if they keep copying the 'Grand Prince' title from Fenn,” says angry snow elf

“wait, what?” asks mr snow elf

[Ooc] Username: Alpha_Mineman Activity Rating (How many days/hours do you play per week?): too many Discord: u have it Timezone: EST [RP] Name: Vyrion Tundrak Gender: Male Place of residence: Fenn Race/Sub-race/Culture: Snow Elf Do you swear obedience to the Princedom of Fenn and the Grand Prince?: yes

free me also stay in touch @Harold

Aelthir III sharpens his spear.

hi credentialed pvp goon here i’ll actually be interested to see where this goes

“Fake news,” decries the Tundrak child. “I won that fight!”

Another sleepless night. Sitting upon the edge of his bed, Aelthir Tundrak II lofted a shaky hand, wiping the sweat from his brow. The morning’s silence was eerie – not at a comparable to the metallic din of battle that rocked his every dream. He could not close his eyes without seeing them; the dead of a dozen battles strewn before him. One night, it was the Sack of Tar’sil that he had witnessed as a child, his defenseless kin cut down in droves. The next, he rode alongside Grand King Bastion Ireheart and King Tobias Staunton, now naught but ghosts of the Axiosan Coalition War. This night, it had been the War of the Two Emperors. A dozen peace treaties, he had witnessed. None brought him peace. Moving to his feet, the Snow Elf hobbled over to stand before a mirror. Reaching up, he lightly touched the dark circles under his eyes. He was tired. He had never truly slept since Tar’sil, when he was naught but a child. Raised in war, he was not even old enough to be coronated until after the Axiosan Coalition War had come to a close. With furrowed brow, his gaze drifted about. Blinded in one eye. Only half of a right ear, the elongated flesh tattered and torn. Pink scars dotted and streaked across his pale form; the marks of a dozen wars. At not even two hundred years old, he was a broken man. Turning, he paced forth, pulling on his clothes. Upon his bed, he placed his armor, crown, and spear – which at this point, had become as much a part of him as his own skin. To walk without their familiar weight felt odd. Next to them, he placed a few letters, before departing. They read as follows: ___________________________________________________________________________________ An Address to the Snow Elven People: To serve as your Grand Prince has been the honor of my life. You are everything to me. Nearly two centuries ago, when our people were once more scattered to the wind with the Sack of Tar’sil, I was but a child. Before even coming of age, I sacrificed my childhood to regather you, and to fight for you. Since then, I have toiled to build for you the safe haven that you deserve. I have fought our enemies, and I have made peace with our enemies. But, I have no sweat left to expend, and no blood left to bleed. Now that peace is secure, and you are safe, I must seek my own peace. I leave you in the care of Aelthos Tundrak III, my son, who will ascend to the throne in my place. You are in good hands. I ask only that you cherish the peace and prosperity that we have fought for, and hold dear the values of honor, justice, and duty that define our people. Legend tells us that Wyrvun hid a path directly to Aira’fin at the bottom of one of the many icy lakes that dot His realm, so that those bold enough may seek out the afterlife. I depart for where I know it to be, and do not intend on returning. Body and soul, I shall leave this realm. Do not pity me, for at long last, I shall be at rest; an eternal slumber alongside our ancestors. Sincerely, Aelthir Tundrak II _____________________________________________________________________________________ To Aelthos Tundrak III: You have made me a proud father. To you, I leave my life’s work – our people. You have been my appointed heir, and shall inherit my titles. You know the throne to be the burden that it is. Like so many of our blood before us, you understand what it means to be a Tundrak – a life of duty, service, sacrifice, and honor. Take good care of our people. Affectionately, Aelthir Tundrak II _____________________________________________________________________________________ To Aeluin Tundrak II: To you, I leave my shield. You have more martial potential than any other Tundrak. With time, I would hope you will come to understand what it means to be the shield of our people. You may be my nephew, but I love you like a son. I shall be with your father soon. Oft we spoke of the qualities that define a Tundrak. If there is one that you should take away from me, at the end of the day, it is sacrifice – not only to die for your people, but to live for them, as I have done. I wish you happiness, for you deserve it. Affectionately, Aelthir Tundrak II _____________________________________________________________________________________ Treading through the icy waters, the Snow Elf felt no chill. Rather, as he carried on, a warmth gradually filled him. Glancing upwards, he took one last look at Hesin’fin, before diving deep beneath the surface. Darker and darker it grew, until finally, the Snow Elf swore he saw the surface on the other side. And so, with a smile, he swam towards eternal slumber. Thus passed Aelthir Tundrak II.

Grand Prince Aelthir Tundrak II signs.

Grand Prince Aelthir Tundrak II signs.

dirty don juan unleashes his fists of fury alongside the dirty unwashed peasant army ((ok i laughed lol

first fly and now this stop trying to tax everything holy ****

MC Name: Aeldrin RP Name: Thorrak Ireheart Dwelling(Kal’Varoth, Hefrumm, etc.): Travelling Candidate: Atandt Irongrinder

A Snow Elf simply sighs and shakes his head.

Aelthir laments the passing of the famed Elven warrior that he had grown proud to fight alongside.

“WHY IS RENATUS FLEXING ABOUT KILLING A 100 YEAR OLD PEASANT HOBO AND A FEW FISHMONGERS IN TRAINING” says dirty don juan

Dirty Mike donates the 1,000 minas he looted to Dirty Cancer’s treatment fund.

It was a day like any other for Dirty Mike. Reeking of soggy cardboard, the Reiver sat upon a rock outside Leuven, picking his nose as he reminisced upon the day’s hard work. Boldly, he and another dirty travelling companion had forayed right into the center of Helena, cut down a noblewoman, and horse-kicked a knight into a fountain, before running straight through the ranks of the Renatian defenders in a daring escape. But alas, Dirty Mike’s peaceful nostalgia was not to last. Three haughty Renatian soldiers approached, blades down, and bid Dirty Mike kneel and die. However, this was not to go as planned. With a screech befitting a rabid cow, the Reiver spun about, wildly swinging blade and shield. Such was the fright of these Renatians, that they turned and fled. Dirty Mike chased the trio all the way back to Helena, his noodley arms flailing about. The Renatian trio entered the city, and attempted to shut the gates behind them – but no simple gates can stop the sheer power of Dirty Mike’s half-boiled brain. Sliding under the closing gates, Dirty Mike fell upon the three. In a whirlwind, he cut all three heavily armored Renatian bannermen down, as the residents of the Imperial city could only watch in horror and slight confusion. Leaving behind a bloody mess outside the gatehouse, Dirty Mike gleefully left the city. That was merely the beginning of the night’s ventures, however. Finding his good comrade Lucius Daemyr, the Reiver duo cut down two Renatian soldiers preparing to storm Haense – kicking each of them off the ledge before the gates to their deaths. Thoroughly enjoying themselves, Dirty Mike and Lucius promptly gathered a few more Reivers. and fell upon a large Renatian party attempting to purge the roads – cutting down peasant footman and knight alike with ease. After the night’s work, Dirty Mike could be seen sprawled out within his portable cardboard box upon the streets of Reza, fast asleep!