bromadan

Kilmar Ireheart merely shook his head at the Speech, going back to his duties without another word.

A variety of announcement papers are posted around the cities and holds the Grand Kingdom, and several letters are delivered by courier to various rulers and lords. Each missive is penned clear and legible and bears the official seal of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. “With the death of our late Grand King Gror Ireheart, it falls once more upon the Senate of Hammers to nominate candidates for the ascension to the Obsidian Throne following an election. There are, however, exceptionally rare occasions in our history when the entirety of the Senate agrees on the nomination of a single candidate who ascends the throne without need for an election. It is a grand occurrence that such an event has taken place today. Let it be known throughout our Grand Kingdom that all loyal citizens of the Grand Kingdom and the monarchs of all foreign nations are invited to the coronation of Zahrer Irongrinder as our next Grand King. The crowning will take place in two stone days time and the event will be followed by a grand tournament. ((The coronation will be Saturday at 3 EST))

Kilmar stood at the entrance to the grand throne room upon hearing the news of his Kinsman and close friend's death. He made no noise, no movement, just silence as he stood there. He had returned to the Grand Kingdom to serve his Clan and Kingdom with honor. But so soon to reunion and joy was sorrow. He huffed a sigh, remembering their adventures and discussions, the Dwed scrunching his nose. "Enough of this shiet.."

On the Matter of Mankind and the Children of God, “And with his favor, the first man and first woman did prosper, and they drank the sweet water and ate of the Lord’s bounty. And they remained faithful to the Creator, and did as He bid, and knew each other, bearing four sons.” (Godfrey 9:1) It can be agreed upon that Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, and Man are the Children of God. The Children of Malin, the firstborn and the fairest, the stout Urguan, the fierce Krug, and the least exciting Horen. Yet it was Horen the lastborn, the least unique yet the most blessed, that GOD decided to give his blessings upon to do his Will onto the Earth. From the History of our People, and that of the Holy Canon, it has come to pass that the Children of God has killed each other, slaughtered each other's families, ravaged homes, and toppled Kingdoms. Yet, I feel that to myself that this is wrong. Yes, the Children of Horen have met the blunt force of Orcish brutality, yet have worked with the Children of Malin to make a better future. Every single living thing on this world can Sin. We are faulty. None of us are perfect like some of us may think. To me, a young man in this world who has already fought in one war at such a tender age, must say that this should end. The Greed and lust of Power for ALL races is known. No matter how pure the intentions they try to hide behind are. But I am getting a bit off message I feel. This is about the Children of God. The Church believes that the Mankind are the only ones that are able to achieve the upper skies, if you walk the virtuous path. In history it is noted that very few Elves and Dwarves have served roles in the church but it is seen as odd and unorthodox, and even if they did serve a virtuous and pious path as Man tries to lead, they may /possibly/ reach the First Sky. And as the High Pontiff himself once said to me, that I should write what I see of the Holy Canon, and what the world thinks of the Church. My opinions may not be popular, or well liked, but I believe it necessary that we at least talk and discuss with one another to see what GOD’s plan and Will is. Even if it is to prove me wrong in the very end. I believe, deep down in my heart, that all the Children of GOD are welcome in the Seven Skies. That we should try to overcome this stigma that Mankind is the only ones that can preach the Holy Canon ‘properly’. I personally call that any Dwarf, Elf, or Orc that truly wishes to take the virtuous path and seeks the Path to Paradise and the Seven Skies should be able too and should be ENCOURAGED by the Church and the Nations of this world. And I pray that my colleagues come to me to open dialogue to speak of such things in gentle tones and leave hostility at the door, and let us debate. Jack Amador, Deacon of the Church of the Canon

Torug reads over the Document, his midnight black visor looking over its contents. A metal digit touched the bit about the Dreadknight, mumbling. "Oh, I believe they are talking about myself. Hm."

THE MELEE (FOR EVERYONE) NAME: Rodrik AGE: 29 TITLE (IF APPLICABLE) LAND OF ORIGIN: Imperial Heartlands MC NAME: bromadan

“My time is nearing.. I can feel it.” Ser Benjamin turned around from the window towards where the words came from, a man laying in the bed with several crimson stained cloth littering the blankets. The room was dark except for the few candles that were lit along the tables and shelves of this large, well-decorated room. Little light came from the massive windows in the front of the room, the rain clouds blocking out the sun. The soft pattle of the rain tapping against the glass and the occasional thunder is all that made noise. A few soldiers stood in the corner of the room, the sigil of Blue and White on their tabards. The hardened men looked at the dying man in the bed with a bit of sorrow, their eyes only trailing from the man to their commander, Ser Benjamin. Benjamin moved towards the side of the bed, adjusting the sword on his waist towards the side to allow him to sit in a chair, his eyes watching the dying lord. Owyn laid in his bed with crimson staining his chin, a cloth in hand to help wipe away his blood. “I’ve been a sick awhile now.. And I feel this is the end of it. I thought I would live to see my grandchildren grow up, to live in my nineties. Now I know I will pass soon after my thirtieth birthday.” A cough soon interrupted him, seizing his entire form as he hacked up blood from his mouth into the cloth. He gently wiped his lips before laying his head back down into the pillows. Benjamin looked to one of the maids that stood by the door, shifting his hand a bit to motion her towards the doors. “Fetch a priest, quickly.” The Maid nodded quickly before running off, shutting the door behind her. Owyn turned his attention to the Knight, shaking his head. “I fear it will be too late. Listen to me Benjamin, please. Hear my words for I must speak them.” The Knight grew a bit solemn, only offering a nod to his Lord. Owyn closed his eyes, letting out a shallow breath. “I learned something in my lifetime. No matter what you do there will be those that hate you because of your name. I tried my hardest to build a legacy, a good one that could be looked at with pride. I think I accomplished such. Going from a poor Baron to a wealthy Count and treasurer of an Empire.. That is a legacy /I/ built.. And proud of. I hope my Children will learn from this. That no matter what, from the Ashes of our demise, we shall rise again. And we have, stronger and better. A legacy that my children may build and add on too. A Dynasty that will be remembered. I forged the path with my work, now my family must use it to accomplish great deeds.” Owyn began to shake once more. “Benjamin.. Teach my children restraint, or they shall waste the work we had made. Teach them to be not of a warlike mind except when it is needed. I learned something in my time at War. Men.. on both sides, have good. We can achieve peace. When I was captured by Courlanders during the war. It was the mercenaries that took my hand. The Courlanders were kind, truly. A knight..” He muttered something but shook his head somewhat as he continued on. “I forget his name.. But he sat and spoke with me. We talked like friends. We spoke of why we were at war, our reasons. The Princess of Courland even treated me and gave me food there. There /is/ good in our enemies.. Make peace.. Teach my sons that.” Owyn hacked up some blood once more, giving a little wipe with his hand this time. “There are many things I regret in life. I have held things inside for too long, loathing on it. I would share these with you. I turned my family from me.. And this is my biggest regret. I hated my Mother, towards the end. I do not even recall what my last words to her were… She left me when I was a Child-Lord in Haense.. Never writing to me. /I/ had to find her when I was older. I ended up growing resentful. My Sisters.. Alyssa.. I barely see her anymore. I hit her Benjamin.. I struck her cheek. She insulted me and called me a woman-beater so I then proved that point with my hand. I regret it but I was so angry. She stepped on me as everyone in my life has.” His grey sunken eyes turned to the Knight in the chair, a cough leaving him. “All my life, Nobles and others have stepped on me and my name. All I had that respected me truly was my family.. And then they stepped on me in the end. I couldn’t take it and lashed out.. I wish I could fix my mistakes but alas it is too late.” A series of coughs take him once more, blood dripping from his mouth. This time however Owyn doesn’t wipe it but leaves it be. “I am nearing it..” He muttered, his eyes beginning to open slowly as his breaths began to grow slower. The Soldiers took off their helms as they watched their Lord, their heads bowing. “I hoped I made the world a better place.. I hope those that cared for me, truly, would help my family. I hope.. I hope..” Owyn began to stutter then, repeating his words. Benjamin leaned over, speaking softly. “Hope for what, Owyn?” Owyn’s eyes stared at Benjamin, finishing his sentence. “I hope those that remember me.. Will remember me fondly.. And my mistakes will be.. Mended.. Remember.. From ashes.. We Amadors rise..” Owyn set his head back once more to look at the ceiling, his eyes closing. In the silence he heard something, a few soft piano notes. His eyes twitched before shutting them, he remembered the notes. It was a song.. The first song he played with his wife, Adrijana. It was a beautiful song, a duet if he remembered correctly. It was the song they played together that he realized he loved her. His fingers slowly pressed down onto the mattress, as if playing the keys alongside the noise in his head. He gave a soft smile as his last memories were that of his wife, her smile and their music. He soon lost himself into it.. Drifting off. The door opened up, a priest entering with the maid and some courtiers. They stopped themselves as Benjamin stood up from the chair, shaking his head with a frown. Owyn laid in his bed, still as a statue as the blood dripped from his mouth. The life of Owyn Amador had finally ended. Portrait of Lord Owyn Amador, Treasurer of the Holy Orenian Empire, Count of Blackfen and Mondstadt, Baron of Stormholme ((OOC Note: It took me some time to write this post, but he has been dead about a irl week. After playing this character for 7 months it does get a bit draining, but I enjoyed every second of it and never regret accepting to play him. I didn't really know how to write this, but i tried my best. I wanted to give him a ending. As always I do ask that you don't make any trolly/meming comments, keep responses in Roleplay or none-hostile OOC comments if you do decide to make a response. Thanks everyone <3 Brom

Torug the Dreadknight simply tilted his helm as this all happened, utterly confused. He mumbled under his helm before setting his claymore upon his shoulder before marching back off towards his Master, not caring anymore for Mordring or what occurred.

"Punsi the Gods.." Torug muttered his helm as he raised his claymore onto his shoulder.

Sketch 1: Sketch, Polished, or Color: Color Color Details (if applicable): Look at skin Character Name: Owyn Amador Age: 27 Gender: Male Race: Human Link to Character's In-Game Skin (optional): https://gyazo.com/f0c8b035b4110fcf6e43caa72bc3a6ef Flowery Physical Description: Owyn has a scar that runs across the bottom of his jaw that is rather large and grotesque. His eyes are that of a light grey and has short black hair, with a face that looks rather worn for such a young man. His right hand is also a metal hand with runes in it though I do not know if you can apply that or not. He stands at 6 ft even, yet again don't know if that applies. Clothing (this will only be visible from the shoulders up): Refer to the skin, though mostly it is a blue jacket that he wears. Pictures/References: N/A Other: <3 Sketch 2: Sketch, Polished, or Color: Color Color Details (if applicable): Black and grey Character Name: Torug Age: N/A Gender: Male Race: Human-DreadKnight Link to Character's In-Game Skin (optional): https://gyazo.com/32eea63518b7ce4b12859a7187659a2e Flowery Physical Description: The Knight stands at about 7 1/2 feet tall and rather largely built as a Dreadknight always is. There is some unique features however, as his helm is different than his other brethren. It is more ornate with a T-shape visor on his helm, as well as his armor being rather thick and carved with different Runes and menacing spikes and metal. His claymore may be seen on his back as well. Clothing (this will only be visible from the shoulders up): Plate-mail Pictures/References: Refer to skin. Other: Really i just want a concept art of a Dread Knight. I can never find any good ones besides those from like WoW or from any other sort of major game. Thought it may be neat though I am aware that it may be somewhat plain but that is ok. <3

A mud-caked Lord Owyn Amador looks at the letter sent by his King, a nod leaving him as he looked over his levies camped outside of Metterden. "I must do as my King commands." He looked to his commanders and gave the orders, after the Battle with the Courlanders he will march a sizable force to link up with his Majesty. With a nod they split from Owyn's tent to tell the men. Vengeance will be had.

It was a crisp, cool morning. An eerie fog rolled over the County of Blackfen, devouring all in its wake except a large fortress that sat at the base of the Mountains. The Fortress, Stormholme and Seat of Amador, was nearly completed. Cranes and pulleys were dragging stone bricks to the top of its spiraling towers, finishing its work, yet no man manned it's walls, its towers, its gates. Yet, all around Stormholme was a large camp set up. A field of Blue and White shuttering in the wind, men and women bringing in food supplies, smithing at the forges, practicing in the fields. A young man sat on top of an armored Destrier on a hill, watching the smallfolk work tirelessly. The man had short black hair and grey eyes, the traits of Amador and Horen. His platemail creaked as he shifted himself, his metal right hand gripping on the reins of his horse to keep him steady. The Knights and Armored men on similar horses around him simply sat in silence, leaving their Lord to his thoughts. Owyn said nothing, staring off as he thought on what he was doing, what his actions would lead too. He was not a man of violence or action, as anyone that truly knew him would understand. With the war against Courland, he always expressed his distaste and worry of marching to war. The cost was simply to high. How can one send thousands of men to their deaths for a unjustly cost? How one claims honor on the Battlefield? There is simply no honor in seeing two young men from simple families strangling each other in the mud. Since the beginning he was a black sheep. His Father was murdered by the Empire when he was 7, causing him to take the mantle of Baron at such early age. The taste of an Empire left an understandable bad taste to him, causing rifts between him and Imperial Sympathizers. Yet he was a man of loyalty, to never breaking one's word, so he fought long and hard for Haense in any way he can. Even when he was dragged before the Courts and was charged with High Treason, he gave himself up willingly and gave his case, letting his Barbanovs Lords sentence him how they saw fit. He loved Haense, he loved his homeland, yet he was not an idiot. He kept his distance after the war, stockpiling resources and recruiting, using his fortune to achieve his goals. He never thought of returning back to his old homeland after the war, and made the best of it he can. He always kept a smile, trying to keep the good showing to his family as they changed homes many times. Yet, some people could tell really. This wasn’t a new start, but an exile to Owyn. Depressed in nature, more easily upset and angry, not himself. His wife could see it, he was not the same man. His Children could see a more serious toned Father than in their earlier years. Yet.. something stirred in him recently. Always sat in his chair at their estate, pouring himself over the writings and missives of the fellow nations and Lords. It was time he thought.. He looked down at the young boys he was arming, those that mined in his mines and those that worked the fields. Was it just? Was a war truly what was needed? His soft eyes peered towards his metal hand, a daily reminder of what Courlanders were, who they had work for them, the countless raiders they unleashed on his home, even if they don’t admit to such. A reminder to think on what was worth the lives of Man. He thought and wondered for a long time.. Minutes or hours he could not tell. But then.. He looked over and saw his wife and children, standing on the stone walls of Stormholme, quiet and watching him. He watched one of his sons give a small hand, as if saying goodbye. Owyn slowly did the same, a shaky breath leaving him and condensing due to the cold. He will see his home returned, for his children to see the home they were supposed to be born in. THe home of their ancestors. This began to anger him, thinking of all that was robbed from him, his fellow Northern Lords, and the smallfolk alike. He said a few words to himself.. “For Marius, For my Father, For the Rutherns, For the Kovachevs, For the Amadors, For the Vanir, For the Colborn, For the Freefolk of Haense, for everyone in the North..” He said, over and over in his mind. The more he said it, the more angrier he got, his body started to shake under his armor as his hands gripped the reins of his horse tighter and tighter. The Knights around him gave their Lord a weird and confused look, one speaking up to see if he was ok. Owyn simply said nothing, turning his horse to look them all over, his friends, his Brothers-in-arms. He muttered a small phrase. “From Ashes we rise..” Immediately he kicked the side of his horse and galloped forward down the hill, going as fast as he can. The Knights, taken by surprise, kicked their horses to follow with wide eyes, calling for their Lord to come back. But he kept riding, hard. The soldiers and smallfolk looked up from some of their work with wide expression of worry and excitement. Owyn raised his metal hand, yelling for all to hear. “Brother and Sisters of Amador! We ride! To arms to arms! We march to war!” He shouted as he continued on with his retinue. With such worry many of the Knights were but the people with a fast pace scrambled from all over the camp, rallying to their Lord. The people dumped water onto their campfires, scrambling for their gear and swords. They ran to the blacksmith for their arms and armor, running to collect to their horses. Many quickly swing up on their horses, galloping after Owyn. As Owyn kept riding, more and more riders joined him, swelling into a host to be reckoned with. The banners of Blue and White flutter in behind Owyn and his host, the riders carrying them with beaming pride. Soldiers rode hard, getting to position as they marched on. The chants of ‘Ave Amador!’ and ‘Ave the North!’ echoed across the camp as they kept on. As they all rode out and towards the North more and more pockets of Amador loyalists rode in from the sides. “My Lord Amador! The time has come!” “To the North men!” "To Death we go, to greet her as a lover!" The head of the columns yelled, raising their fists into the air as they rode with their company, merging into the main force. They began to sing as they rode, the Knights and man-at-arms together in harmony More and more loyalists and Amador banner-men merged together as they kept on, riding hard for the Rutherns and the Amador’s old seat of Mondstadt, the newly named ‘Northmarch’. It was time for the Amadors to make their name heard once more. The world knows the cause is just when the good men ride to war… ((OOC Note: It has been a long time since I actually wrote something good so please enjoy a nice RP post about my char and his current actions. Would ask that anybody from the Rebellion/Courland side to not write any trolly/OOC oriented/mean comments to any specific person. Tis all for fun, thank you <3))

Owyn Amador sat silently, hearing the news of once his friend and King dying. He was saddened, struck deeply with sorrow as he recalled when he grew up in Saint Karlsburg beside Marius, remembering the day perfectly when he swore his oaths to him personally. "I am sorry I couldn't be with you friend.." He muttered quietly, covering his face with his worn hands.

Owyn reads yet another missive from his old Homeland. The Count sat in his chair in his Estate, reading more and more of his fellow comrades in the North making proclamations and missives. He sighs a bit, thinking of his old home of Mondstadt, thinking of his childhood home that he ran when he bacame a lord at 7, in the hands of those that killed and bled his family dry. He had lost a hand, a daily reminder of what they had done. He had some thinking to do...

20 <3

Owyn Amador sits in his Estate as receives word of this newly appointed Queen. He wonders what she meant by the Men of Mardon, as he, nor any other lord he knows is claiming said Kingdom. He gives a simple shrug, not caring for a Queen of a land filled with Undead.

Garrett the Ghoul with whip in hand cracks it against the flesh of the Mortals, forcing slave and ghoul alike to continue with their work. The fires of Industry will engulf the forests, the arms and armor for the Legion of the Damned shall be forged within these dark pits. The Ghoul Quartermaster sneers and laughs as he watches them all toil in the mines, proud of their service to their Master.

Owyn Amador sits in his Estate in Carasca as he reads over the small piece of parchment, his lips pursing as he thinks of these Courlanders living in his family home. He lets out a soft sigh, picturing the blue and white banners of his ancient House being replaced with the green and black of Courland. "What a sad day.. Perhaps I will visit again one day.. Visit Winter's grave. That is if they were nice enough to keep it there."

Owyn simply sits himself in his Estate in the tropical Republic of Carasca with a letter in hand. The young man stayed silent for several minutes, thinking on these events. "I must make sure no more blood is shed.." He muttered quietly. He quickly sent Ravens out towards those still loyal to House Amador, quickly making his way to Lorraine to see his Mother.

Owyn lets out a groan. "Four thousand one hundred for the cloak."

"1,500 for the cloak." Owyn speaks up again.