iris1612

"I'm OK with this," says Nikolai ((Finally I can have a homosexual affair with @Buddér without fear of being prosecuted as an enemy of courland :')

"I mean I like this but it seems like a really bad idea also," says Nikolai, whilst working his wood

**has a wtf look on his face

Nikolai Rykov signs with a Hansetic smirk

Jakarra prepares to waagh

"Sadly, this war resulted because of Courland's inability to maintain diplomatic relations. The Courland-Haense war was officially declared after a Haense diplomat wa's violently murdered, and when Owyn II went to Courland to sue for peace he wa's stabbed by a Courlandic soldier. Unfortunately that was not the end of Courlandic oppression as they funded Savoyard rebels who sought to retake Mardon with no legitimate basis whatsoever except an ancestral claim to the land. So Owyn II forgave the Courlanders for trying to kill him and once again went to Courland to negotiate for peace. Courland rejected his deal and sent him on his way, rufusing to settle for anything less than the extermination and utter submission of the Mardonic people like they had done to Haense. Then while leaving, Owyn II was violently killed by Courlandic soldiers who were aided by an undead Ghoul. As much as peace would be desirable, the Kingdom of Courland has made it utterly impossible to coexist with any other nations." Says Ron, an unusually opinionated Courlandic palace janitor

Nikolai would note that there was, in fact, an election, and that it was also a highly publicized election. He smiles, knowing that the open and clear way that the Canonist church conducts their Pontifical Elections makes it clear to everyone but a complete idiot that yes, in fact, there is always a Pontifical Election. He further muses that the only time in recent history when a pontiff was elected WITHOUT an election was in the case of Theodosius II, who was killed and is now reincarnated as the high priest of the True Faith. He donates a humble carrot to the Church of the Canon in honor of the newly elected Pontiff.

Bidding begins at 500 mina, bids must increase by increments of 50 or more.

Senate-Meister Charles Ellis "Chuck" Schumer smIles as he authorizes another drone strike on the Zootopian forces

Opinion of me How much money do I have to pay the buy your cyber logs

Honest opinion of me

Democratic Minority Leader Charles Ellis "Chuck" Schumer approves this message

i need a new username here's the rules. Most repped reply becomes my next username If the username will get me banned on lotc im not doing it if the username is already taken im not doing it (no ****) lets go

30th of the Amber Cold, 1604, Vasiland Courlandic Forces preparing to breach Serpentstone. Nikolai Rykov was crouching in a corner of the vast stone fortress, bracing himself against the stone walls as another trebuchet shot battered the castle. It was the third day of the siege on the castle, and prospects were not looking bright. A brief respite from the bombardment allowed him to glance outside, surveying the damage that had come from the latest wave. The proud row of Hansetic trebuchets now sat derelict, some destroyed, and the remaining ones out of ammunition, as they had been for days. What was worse, was the eastern flank of the castle--bombardments had reduced the corner to rubble, and there seemed to be a crowd of Courlanders gathering around it. “Why’ve they stopped firing?” He asked uneasily to his Captain, a grizzled bear of a man named Ned, who had once been a Crow. The man responded in a low rumble, hefting his sword “Either they’ve run out of ammunition, or they’re about run through that breach.” Nikolai opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a sudden shout: “TO ARMS, THEY’RE COMING THROUGH THE BREACH!” The men exchanged a final glance and a nod, and then rose up, weapons in hand, charging from cover to the breach “FOR THE KING” Hansetic and Courlandic cavalry clash together outside of Serpentstone. The Hansetic call rang out across the plateau, mixing in with the Courlandic and Dwarven battle cries, and the battle begun in truth. Horsemen whizzed past him, the sounds of steel on steel, explosions of alchemist’s fire and the screams of dying men all mixing together in a deadly cacophony of war and bloodshed. The Royal Hansetic Army was holding the breach, but only just, and swarm of green was pushing them back inch by inch. Nikolai lashed out with his Carbarum mace, again and again, but he could not seem to stop the swarm. He looked around him, just in time to see Ned fall to a Courlandic lance. Everything around him seemed to slow, the shouts fading out into silence, the movement of the world halting, as the lance pierced his Captain’s breast. He met his commander’s eyes, his own wide with fear. This man had seen him through every battle, ever siege, every fight in this war as unyielding as a rock in the chaos. This was the man who had given him his own blade, which he affectionately named in the Captain’s honor. He watched transfixed as blood bubbled from the soldier’s lips, murmuring his last word to Nikolai “Run” He snapped back to reality as Ned crumpled to the ground, turning just in time to deflect a sword blow off of his shield; and he began to run. It was clear the battle was lost, the breach could not be held and more Courlanders were spilling through at every moment. He ran, ignoring the soldiers cut down behind him, ignoring his captured brothers-in-arms, thinking for nothing but his own safety. 1st of the Deep Cold, 1604 A Hansetic Refugee ship off the coast of eastern Tahn, seeking a new home. Sailing was familiar to Nikolai. He was born on a ship, and raised on one as well. To him, it was easier than walking on land. The ship was massively overcrowded, packed full of Hansetic refugees who would rather flee to another part of the world then kneel before a tyrant. He silently thought about the land they were sailing for. Carasca,, it was called; a land inhabited by Axios natives who had decided to allow the refugees in. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than anywhere else. They were a republic, apparently--he wasn’t exactly sure what a republic was, but it sounded pleasant. “Tighten the sails!” Came the call from the boatswain, and he deftly obeyed, watching the ship pick up pace. He gazed into the sunset behind him as the ship voyaged east, towards Carasca, towards the future, towards hope.