wolfdwg

Why can't we just have tiles again. Made things so much easier.

10th First Seed 1685 Within the bustling streets of Carloustadt, amongst the fresh rays of a warm heartland sun was a dispute. Two parties bickered and slandered each other with words. On one side was that of Konyves of Styria, whilst the other was a man claiming the birthright of Horen, saying he was of the dragon’s ilk. After being given an ultimatum to kneel before the Emperor of Man. The claimant refused, stating he simply did not need too. This erupted a fire in Konyves and with a might blow from his black plated gauntlet, he drew blood. The claimant’s face swelled with bruising and internal hemorrhaging, whilst Konyves’s ebony plate stained with a speckle of crimson. By this time a large crowd had grown around the claimant, and begun to ridicule and mock him as he attempted to plead his case. It was then a duel was called for by the Margrave of Styria. “I will not sully my hands with your pig-filth, liar. Evald!” Konyves called out beckoning his levy man, dubbed the ‘champion of Styria.’ “He shall fight in my stead.” stated Konyves. “Will anyone fight for me?” the impostor Peter Charles stated. There was a silence, before being erupted with the sound of laughter and mockery. One could say tears could be seen welling in the man’s eyes as hope faded from his visage. The river Baltas. Unruly and rabid its current crashed on the wooden pylons holding the bridge up. On top of the bridge stood two armored men. Evald with his back to the capital, whilst the impostor Horen stood with his back to Ostrog Ivanoyy. They both strapped their shields to their left arms, and arming swords gripped in their right hands. They stared at each other, one whose face bulged from his helm from a vicious beating, while the other calm, cool, and calculating. Then the signal was given. Both men advanced in an en garde state, observing each other’s movements. Evald struck first, landing a feint hit on top of the impostor’s helm, causing the sound about the two to ring in a metallic clang. Next the impostor struck a glancing blow aimed at Evald’s torso, nearly grazing his side from the attempted pierce. But this proved to be the impostor’s undoing. Evald struck with his sword down on the man’s neck guard, promptly causing the impostor to flinch away in panic, whilst Evlad pressed forward send a jab with his sword through the man’s breastplate, striking his abdomen within. A halt was called as the impostor collapsed to the flooring of the bridge, blood spewing from the man’s jaws, as he held his gut in agony from Evald’s strike. The several crown knight who were in attendance and who’d witnessed the duel flocked over to attempt to treat the impostor’s wounds. “To the Capital! His justice is not yet served.” Konyves stated as he then locked his hand in a clasp with Evald’s hand. “Fine strike sir, very good indeed. Now off to the capital.” he’d state The crowd gathered around the man in the stockades, the impostor was of the line of Horen-Mardon, a treasonous line who’d betrayed the people of Renatus. Ser Pius, in his official renatian plate lazily made his way to the stockade, with the retinue of Konyves in tow. He stood on the stockade and made his declaration, “People of Carloustadt, subjects of his Imperial Majesty’s grand Empire. I am Ser Pius, Chapter Master of the Order of the Red Dragon, have looked into the case of this… ‘man’, and have deemed him an impostor to our bloodline. His sentence,” he looked to Ser Bogdan of Styria, “Is death.” The crowd erupted in bloodlust, baying for the head of impostor, eagerly wanting to grab the decapitated head. “Have you any last words?” Ser Pius stated to him. Tears welling in his tear ducts, “Please this is injustice!” he whined, as Ser Bogdan withdrew his sabre. As he raised up his sabre above the man’s head he bellowed out once more, “PLEA-.” he was cut short as his frightened expression plastered over his face. The clean strike of Bogdan’s blade had cut short the impostor’s pleas of mercy, such is the fate of those who lay false claims on the bloodline of the dragon… Chronologed by Scribe Syd Kerznov of Styria

"So it begins." States a weary scribe.

The air tasted of salt and rum, whilst the air whooped and hollered in the afternoon blue sky. White pastels painted the blue canvas as a burning yellow shone it’s rays on the frigate, dubbed the ‘Tide Splitter’, truly a massive hulk of wood and nails, bearing a pattern of purple and black on its sails. At the helm of the ship’s hull was a head of a bronze dragon, fearsome and unyielding in face of the bitter and cold waves. Standing at starboard was a small figure, cloaked in a large coat dazzled with baubles and ornaments of nobility. The boy was frail and pale as the snowy lands he came from. His hair was a auburn coloration while his grey eyes were pale and observing. A large figure, burly and ragged, strode to the side of the small and young boy, placing his hefty hand on the figure’s shoulder, though very gently and with hesitation. “What is it Captain Jonnas?” the boy asked without breaking concentration on the ocean waves. The larger figure paused then looked out to the sea and onward to the land ahead, “We’ve arrived… ye’r imperial highness.” Jonnas stated offer a faint smile. The noble boy simply cocked his head to his side staring into the vastness of the ocean, “Why’d father send me to my cousin’s empire?” he’d ponder the statement going to place his right hand on the railings of starboard. “Did I make him angry?” he’d look upward to the tall figure, emotion sapped from his face almost akin to a solem mannequin. The tall figure scratched the back of his head, thinking deeply before smiling, “No lad, ye’r father sent yeh here to be with ye’r family. To be with ye’r mum, and siblings.” he’d state, unconfident in his words. The boy just turned his head back to the sea, and in low voice, “I don’t even remember my mother… I wonder if she’ll even love me…” the voice would croak somewhat, as a single tear would streak down the youthful pale face. “Nay say it like that lad, A mother’d never forget her cub.” the burly man would interject, “Think of it lad, you’ll be in the imperial palace! Learning noble stuffs!” he’d attempt to change subject but the you boy would just turn from the ocean, facing back to the busy deck of ship, bustling with sea-life. “I’m going to bed…” the boy would say retreating from the deck and vanishing into the lodgings of the captain’s cabin. The young boy would slump down to his beddings, burying his face in the pillow before coughing violently. The white cloth would begin to speckle with crimson, as it lurched from his throat. Shortly the coughing fit would cease, in which the boy would begin to clean his face of any speckle of blood that had pooled around his lips. He’d eventually collapse down into his bed, after changing the pillow’s lining, drifting off into sleep, a calm expression would cross his face as he found his peace in sleep and relaxation. In a few saints days, James Oliver Horen will arrive in Carloustadt, reuniting with his family.

"They would've failed their Greyspine rebellion if Dunamis hadn't held the line against the Romstun free company." Remarks a blind and frankly quite senile veteran of the horde.

"We've much work to do..." a weary and now sick Gnaeus states, after finishing his hold in a single saint's day.

pce, omnissiah take u

Hmmm....

Godemir eyes the poster... something seemed similar to it's make...

"Doomforged kingdom when." Asks Volkkas Doomforged.

guys lets remove war too, that rarely even happens too haha xp

Raids barely happen anymore, just remove them xd

A Certain Camel Bandito smirks as his brothers and sisters ready for war!

remove raids n remove war rp only server haha xd

haha irl logistics in block game xd

ngl freebuild is the root of this issue xd

A certain camel bandit is none to happy war will likely not be waged, therefor he goes to pout in a corner until he's called on upon once more.

o/

"Alright then. I look forward to the church warring us. It's time to show them their cannonist 'God' stop listening awhile ago." state Godemir, a true believer in the sun.

let it die narthok