bromadan

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. 

MC Name:
bromadan
 
Character's Name:
Torug 
 
Character's Age:
32
 
Character's Original Race:
Human
 
Transformed form:
Dread Knight 
 
Creator's MC Name:
knghtArtorias
 
Creator's RP Name:
Raime
 
Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:
   A Dreadknight, originally, served as the first responders against Blood-mages but it ended up backfiring on them. These men and women became the first Dread Knights, serving the men they wanted to destroy. How they are made is rather easily said but difficult to actually due. A sacrifice is taken and bound in a suit of armor, carved with runes of blood to bind the sacrifice to the suit itself. Over time, the subject will slowly die till eventually all is left is the armor. Death is not achieved over this period of suffering, serving their Dread Lord till destroyed. Dread Knights, are power foes. Requiring smart tactics to take them down. They are impervious to conventional means of attack, blows from swords, spears, and axes doing little to the armor itself. However blunt weapons would due the most to the armor itself. What the Dread Knight’s true weakness is is magic. Ascended, Holy, and fi magic are some of the most powerful spells that can be used to take down the Knight. 

   A Dread Knight also is a Knight that will never fault in loyalty, always obeying its master. This being must also absorb the blood of his foes in order to empower the Knight, keeping it functioning. This slow moving hulk of metal is not something to take for granted in a battle.  
     
Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app:
No
 
Do you agree to keep the MT updated on the status of your magic app by using the Magic List Errors topic?:
Yes
 
Do you consent to accepting what may happen to this character?:
Yes
 
Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied?:
No
 

Usually I don't write on these things, and I must say overall I do like Pork but I don't know how well of a GM he/you would be. Obviously I must address the time you made a persona then used the perms you had to lead a very large band of people into my vault to rob me blind. Now, I am no longer as salty about it as I was but that issue does remain. I would like to see him given a chance but a wary one nonetheless. Just my two cents on the matter, but I won't do a +1 nor a -1 <3 

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. 

@Delmodan Sorry about that, fixed. 

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

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

Owyn speaks up. "500 for the Cloak." 

MC Name: bromadan

Character's Name: Garrett

Character's Age: 27

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable): Human

Transformed form: Morghuul

Creator's MC Name: Parkins

Creator's RP Name: Nicholas

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

A Morghuul is a husk of its former self that was raised by a Necromancer. This happens when the true soul of the being has left and the body is all that remains. It is raised as a husk of sorts of their former selves. Morghuul’s sole purpose is to gain lifeforce from the mortals of this world, consuming flesh from its victims to sustain itself. Even though it is a dangerous foe to those that don’t expect it, its decaying nature doesn’t allow such a being to carry large weapons are armor. The best it can is be in chainmail and a normal longsword. This being can also be killed in the right way very quickly. Either by Holy Magic or just having its head severed from its body. Gold weapons also don’t do that much damage more than others, yet it does cause more pain to be done on the Morguul.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it: N/A

Do you agree to keep the MT updated on the status of your magic app by using the Magic List Errors topic?: Yes

Do you consent to accepting what may happen to this character?: Yes

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app: N/A

Owyn reads over the new act on his small chair in the main hall of his manor. His soft grey eyes slowly scan its contents as a frown begins to creep across his lips. He looked up as he dropped the parchment onto the floor, his attention drifting off into space as he thinks on its contents. 

Once again, as always my friend, just brilliant. 

The 13th of Sun’s Smile, 1602

Throughout the great Cathedral of Saint Karlsburg stood the Blue and White banners of House Amador beside the Black and Red, Black, and Orange banners of House Kovachev. The occasion was marked by the sacred matrimony between Lord Owyn Amador, the Count of Mondstadt, and Lady Adrijana Kovachev of Carnatia. The close family of Owyn and Adrijana were the only ones in attendance, along with the attendance of the Royal Family of Haense. 

On top of the dais at the front of the Cathedral stood Archbishop Rory, smiling down at Owyn as he stood before him. Soon those that stood in their rows turned to the aisle as Lady Adrijana was escorted by her Uncle Drasko down the aisle. He gave her up to Owyn with a soft smile before heading to his seat. The Bride and Groom exchanged a small look to each other before offering a smile to comfort one another, saying their vows before their Families. As they both said I do, the Archbishop proclaimed  “By the Grace of GOD, I now pronounce them both husband and wife! You may kiss the Bride!”

With that Owyn leaned down to lay a soft kiss on Adrijana before turning with her towards those gathered, walking down the aisle, waving and smiling. 
 

((Once again, Brilliant. Don't stop my friend. 

I. Name: Owyn Amador

II. Age: 17

IIa. Date of Birth [If Known]:

IIb. Location of Birth [If Known]: Mondstadt 

III. Race [Human/Elf]: Human

IIIa. Culture [Heartlander, Highlander, Wood Elf, etc.]: Mix (Heartlander/Highlander)

IV. Status of Blood [Nobility, Gentry, Commoner, Former Nobility, etc.]: Nobility (Count)

V. Place of Residence: Mondstadt

VI. Martial Knowledge [Trained in Weaponry, Archer, etc.]: Trained in various melee weapons. Including lance, axe, and sword. 

VII. Skilled Labor [Farmer, Lumberjack, etc.]: Master Enchanter 

I rather enjoy this deeply, and can't wait to read more when it is written!

I'll plus one this <3

Posters would be hung all across Saint Karlsburg and major populated centers in Haense, stamped with the Sigil of House Amador. 

"Attention Noble and Commoner alike! The House of Amador is running a lottery at their stall in the grand city of Saint Karlsburg! After a successful trial we have concluded that it shall be an annual event. Every year in Snow's Maiden we shall draw a lucky number and winner of a pot of Hundred Minas. All you have to do is go to the Amador Stall and purchase a Lotto Rock that costs Ten Minas and give your name to the Vendor. When the time to draw comes we shall pick a number and contact the winner! If the winner does not show within one Saint's day we will pick a new winner. The more people that participate, perhaps the bigger the jackpot will be so come on down and invite your friends!"

Rella is the best, totally will give a Plus 1 to her!~ She deserves it!