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PvPeh

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    902
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772 Heroic

About PvPeh

  • Rank
    Alcoholic
  • Birthday 07/16/1998

Contact Methods

  • Discord
    Khozydwg#7648
  • Minecraft Username
    PvPeh

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Texas

Recent Profile Visitors

15,777 profile views
  1. Give her minas you plebs.
  2. "Te'h will doie wit' throats full of blood. Onleh way for t'ese fohk'ers te'h stop spewin' fohk'en dribble." Kothak would state after hearing of the Ruswick proclamation.
  3. Kothak chuckles, "Tha' umroi wants us tou fight in their war? Nah, rat'er just deal wit' te'h Ruswick dund'dahe basta'ds." He'd nudge Officer Grudgebeard before going back to sharpening his halberd.
  4. Kothak would sit in his home before hearing the forges burn with a fiery vengeance. The clangs of steel would resound throughout the cavernous city, matching the fury of vengeance. Kothak would smile before gripping his dwarven halberd. “NARVAK OZ URGUAN! DEATH T’UH THA’ RUSWICK BASTA’DS!” cried out Kothak as he joined his shield-brothers preparing for war.
  5. PvPeh

    A DeNurem Rises

    “Throw a teuton down a well! So my country can be free...” a deranged strelt peasant would mumble of a time long forgotten.
  6. PvPeh

    TO MY HOMELAND

    “I’ve never killed a child, merely kidnapped one who was in a warzone. I believe her name was Lorena or something of the sorts. I do not have a High Keeper, as I do not follow the Red Faith of Morsgrad, I don’t believe there is a God or Heaven above. We all become food for the dirt we tread on.” Godemir would spit hearing a fly buzz in his ear. “I still don’t appreciate the Ruberni ***** mouthing off as if she has a moral high-ground, people die. Soon Haense will burn on the Saint’s Eve of tomorrow...” he’d continue to sharpen his sword eyeing the besieged city of New Reza.
  7. PvPeh

    TO MY HOMELAND

    "Poisoned words of an Orenian puppet, you are no true Ruberni, wench," states a disgusted Godemir.
  8. Always liked our banter, best we both leave the server. Whilst the good memories remain.
  9. A Renatian Landschneckt named Joah, whilst campaigning in the Kaedrin-Ves, would come across this parchment and read it over, “The farmer has heart, but I fear this will not come true until a strong man like John the First comes around. Perhaps then I would pledge my sword to a man like that.”
  10. Bruh, I want Vaq’s MCMMO! One shot gold axes reeee!
  11. still 1-1, got unfinished business...
  12. The March Of Morsgrad Writ 1734, documented at the hand of Lyanna “Woe to the foe that would meet the combined Nordish-Renatian forces in battle,” -Balerion Mournstone, 1734. The glow of the rising sun in the west radiated against the mountain-city of Morsgrad, an orange gradient piercing out against the dark canvass; illuminating the grand city below. It is a peaceful setting, to watch the sun-rise - it is at this point many in the world find tranquility in observing such. Yet, in stark contrast this tranquility did not extend its luxuries out to the men of Morsgrad for their city was bustling with activity: stable-hands feeding their horses, blacksmiths hammering away at the chipped metals and soldiers practising their formations with a strong fervour. A figure would emerge from the grandiose palace that acted as the mantlepiece for the settlement, his aura commanding nought but authority as the activities taking place dwindled within - for all would pay attention to this figure. All it took was a simple word that carried such meaning and strength behind it. “War.” It was all these war-hardened men needed to hear, for the men of Norland & Renatus had been through countless campaigns and it was not long ago the two fought side by side to face off the Marnan scum when they came marching. An assortment of banners ranging from Red to Purple were hoisted, supplies were packed and it was time for the people of Morsgrad to once more prove their military might. Some weeks later, the men of Morsgrad had found themselves marched upon the Imperial War Camp that would host the meeting-point for the campaign to come. The horns were sounded, the men trained and the generals prepared. The Imperials had named this in the sense of justice, but these men knew differently - to them, it was sport.
  13. only true rivalry was flay v teuts, nothing compares
  14. “’ere we gow, ‘ere we gow, ‘ere we gow!” An enthusiastic red-skinned Raguk would shout, amidst the dark caverns.
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