tcs_tonsils_

“Death at Eastfleet” [!] A portrait of an adult Borris Iver Kortrevich 12th of Msitza and Dargund, 419 E.S. So let loose thine arrows, send them hurtling toward the enemy. With a single word, thousands of bolts blot out the sun as they streak across the sky. And with a single thunderous clap, the wrenched return with their own volley. Death appears to take the brave, status or none, death seeks to unify. With a single word, thousands of bolts blot out the sun as they streak across the sky. They strike flesh and stone, cracking and splintering everything they touch. Death appears to take the brave, status or none, death seeks to unify. Impaled upon the shafts of wood and iron, the pale body’s blush. They strike flesh and stone, cracking and splintering everything they touch. “Run forth, thine brethren.” I heard thee scream out, sword raised with wide grin. Impaled upon the shafts of wood and iron, the pale body’s blush. “Run forth. Kill the Bastards.” The man cried out, then crumpled in the wind. “Run forth, thine brethren.” I heard thee scream out, sword raised with wide grin. And so we did. Man, orc, and dwarf charged forth with such enraged vigor. “Run forth. Kill the Bastards.” The man cried out, then crumpled in the wind. Push through the nerve, release thine adrenaline, and maintain thine rigor. Man, orc, and dwarf charged forth with such enraged vigor. Blessed iron met with heathen steel, as both forces collided midway. Push through the nerve, release thine adrenaline, and maintain thine rigor. Slashing and bashing and cutting and slicing, fighting lasts through the day. Blessed iron met with heathen steel, as both forces collided midway. My clothes are drenched with my sweat, my armor with the blood of others. Slashing and bashing and cutting and slicing, fighting lasts through the day. Fighting lasts through the day, till each foe is struck down by Godan’s ushers. My clothes are drenched with my sweat, my armor with the blood of others. I dare not ponder if it is that of mine friend or adversary. Each foe is struck down by Godan’s ushers. Forever from this moment shall they remain sedentary. I dare not ponder if it is that of mine friend or adversary. I hear the calls of those who lay battered upon the dirt and blood. Forever from this moment shall they remain sedentary. Their pitiful cries ring out in the thin silence, a broken dam to flood. I hear the calls of our brethren who lay battered upon the dirt and blood. Doomed souls, longing for the release of death, something to relieve their strife. Their pitiful cries ring out in the thin silence, a broken dam to flood. Godan strike us down lest we forget their sacrifice. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich

Borris Iver Kortrevich goes on with his day having never seen these notes.

A certain Lord Kortrevich chewed the inside of his cheek as he scanned the Hearsay. “A bit disappointing.” Borris sighed, tossing the Hearsay in the fire before continuing to pace around his room, deep in thought.

Borris Iver Kortrevich scanned the invitation with a bright smile. "She makes vy happy, vy make her happy." He folded the piece of paper and put it into his pocket before standing, his hands clasped before him as he began pacing about his room again.

Selection of Poetry from Borris Iver Kortrevich - Vol 7.5 12th of Msitza and Dargund, 419 E.S. [!] A portrait of an adult Borris Iver Kortrevich “Heat” Fingers curl around the warmth That exudes from within this cup. I shiver, the juxtaposition of this new heat With the frigidity of my own body’s thump. “What do I want?” I want to feel the sunshine on my face. I want the depth of the cold not to overshadow this warmth. I want to see a bright orange stretch across my lids As I stare up into the sky with closed eyes. To be able to sit back and relax and not worry, For once, about the days that are to come. To be able to lay down before the meadows, To take in the beauty of it all. To have you sit beside me in perfect contentment just to rest and watch. I want that feeling of sunshine on my face. That feeling of knowing that everything will be okay “Above the Rest” Expanse of Yellow and Green, Blanket upon the land. Each flower, delicately placed Within their own bush. Each flower, defined in A gorgeous plushness. Field of Yellow rose bushes, A brilliant flush upon the earth. Yet even within this soft amber void, Stands a single. pristine red rose. Despite its uniqueness, it’s beauty Stands unmatched to any of those around it. A single Red speck within a sea of Yellow. Exquisiteness within a sea of Beauty. “Untitled” A blinding blaze of yellow, Brilliant and beautiful. Bursting forth with embellished bewilderment, basic and perfect. Perfectly round, it is a half-crescent, Item of an inescapable truth. The sight, the smell is the greatest there. When green becomes ripened yellow. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich KML

Iulius Vernhart had entered the hospital with a racing mind, but as he watched the man on the table only questions sloshed around, though he dare not ask them at such a time. So he just watched as the shell of his friend lay dead on the medical bed. It had been that morning where they recounted first meeting and the friendship that followed. Words were spoken by Iulius, though his mind had yet to comprehend what was said to his dear friend in those moments.

Borris Iver Kortrevich scanned the missive, eyes concentraiting on every word. As the young lord sat within the Library of Jerovitz, he studied the weight of his sword. Borris wondering if he would ever have the chance to kill the bastard-lord for fooling him into thinking of him as a friend.

Borris Iver Kortrevich smiled as he read the pact, his head bobbing up and down in a nod. He moved off to find Nikolai, leaving to tell him of the news and of his involvement.

Iulius Vernhart blinked upon reading the missive. “And so it continues… onto the courts it seems.”

Iulius Vernhart scratched his chin, a soft sigh excaping from his lips. "Ea suppose ea should find mea ledger for such an occassion." He said, standing up from his writing desk and making his way down to his ever expanding library. "Now where did ea put those civil court forms?" @Raijen Stars

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 7 [!] A portrait of teenage Borris Iver Kortrevich 17th of Msitza and Dargund, 418 E.S. “Sunflower” As golden the afternoon sun, you outstretched Yourself high into the air. Tall and beautiful, you Tower above everything and everyone. Green Leaves topped with a yellow brimmed hat. “Friend Lost” The wilting of a flower, ever doomed. Sprouted from seeds of a ignorance And morphed into a beautiful bloom. Yet deep inside lies the insolence. Taken from thin air, this wisp of rose Stands before the rest in glorious display Yet approached, only further does it expose The glinting of hurt under, chaos and disarray. Molded despair which has been wrought, Agonizing venom seeps through veins, Seeping, grasping, clawing its way out. Then spews around in deadly rains. Unintentionality reeps the same bitter seed, Arising from such meager beginning to this, Inevitable destructuction, choking weed. Harvest sown greets only with an abyss. Everything has been broken, bits and Pieces scattered about across the dirt floor. “From Cracked to Shattered” Below the stars, before the window pane, I long for you but you just break my heart. So why oh why do I hold in this pain. A delicate piece of glass, work of art. Sculptured with care, encased by the rampart Brittle in nature, when dropped it shatters I try to keep it safe, out of harm’s sight Grasping it for dear life, holding it tight. “Hands of Healing” I was nothing, sunk into by fangs Yet you took me from that Terrible disposition, melding Everything back into a whole. You lead me away from such darkness and back towards light. A hand guiding me from afar. One I despised turned to greet me. When I was at my lowest This hand carefully brought Me back from my depths and Sprouting within me hope again. Friend! Friend! I will call you. I see you standing at the gates And so a move to meet you again I shall always do that now. Talked for hours, catching Up on every little detail. We laugh, we cry, we rant, yell, and share our lives. You show me how to dance, Though I step on your toes. We spin, again and again, Nervousness turns to enjoyment. There is a warmth felt inside, Different from a romantic fire. A care is exchanged, a mutual Understanding of each other. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich

-Poetry Commissions- [!] A portrait of teenage Borris Iver Kortrevich 9th of Vzmey and Hyff, 418 E.S. [!] A pamphlet would be hung up all over Karosgrad. Over the last several years, I have taken it upon myself to write many poems and share it with the people of Haense. I have also, to my astonishment, heard that my poems are being read from all over Almaris. So as I continue this journey forward and continue to release poetry yearly, I also wished to offer up my services to anyone should they be in need of a poem. Whether it be to express one's love for another or one’s mourn, poems are a great way to show what emotion is hidden both on the surface and underneath. -What You Get- Each poem will be crafted specifically to your request and will include most anything you ask for in terms of subject. (Within reason). Whether this be a fantastical tale, love song, or simple nature poem, you define the topic. Each poem may be given back to the requester or delivered anonymously by yours truly. Price is based on the complexity and length of the poem. Contact me by bird - Cave built on wonder, Moonlit sky peaking through cracks, Dissolving within. - Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich

A Children’s Sleepover 418 E.S As our daughters of the Ludovar house, Johanna and Cecilya, grow in age they wish to seek new people and expand their friend circles. What better way to build lasting memories in these children than a slumber party full of games and food? Therefore, House Ludovar would like to extend an invitation to every child of Haense (Ages 5-15), its vassals and allies to a sleepover, which shall be held in the glorious halls of Otistadt! -Activities- Here is a list of events that we wish to host throughout the night: -Cookie-Baking- Sugar! Cinnamon! Chocolate! Delicious! -Mug-Decorating- Plenty of different colors and accessories to decorate your drinking device to fit your style! -Clay-Modeling- Whether it is a bowl or a depiction of your family, you can decide what you sculpt! -Bring-A-Friend- Each guest is encouraged to bring at least one of their dearest friends to this amazing event! Each friend must be within the specified age range provided above. SIGNED, HIS Excellency, Johann Fredrick Ludovar, High Justiciar of Hanseti-Ruska, Count of Otistadt, Lord of Kazstadt HIS Lordship, Josef Aleksey Ludovar

"Simple Joy" A Poem by Borris Iver Kortrevich [!] A portrait of teenage Borris Iver Kortrevich 13th of Joma and Umund, 417 E.S. For in the meadow, one wonders through Brush and flower, pollen tainting the cloth Yellow while thorns and bristles continuously Stab the soft skin below the clothed exterior. Yet they continue as if they feel nothing, Spinning wildly as they take in the beauty Of such fields. Dress of blue and yellow twirling About, speckles of fabric glistening in the sunlight. Regardless of its continual smacking upon the stalks, the figure never relents its dancing. Laughs resound from them, breaking the Thin silence that seemed draped upon this place. A beacon of light emits from their face, teeth In full view as they hold an ever, widening smile. Eyes wonder, noting a piece of hazy color Around, most blending into one greenish-yellow fuzz. They pause, breathless in their state of perfect bliss. Complete dizziness washes over the body, forcing the Head to still twist as the body stands still. They closely Their eyes, letting the light-headed feeling numb everything. Arms feel out to the side to balance this teetering person From falling. Expulsion of a light sigh before sight returns, focusing on the flower before it. A smile turns to a giggle, And a giggle turns to a movement. A movement leads to a run. And once again, one runs through the wildflowers.

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 6 [!] A portrait of teenage Borris Iver Kortrevich 14th of Tov and Yermey, 417 E.S. Haiku Lilacs in the wind, Shimmering beauty beheld, Fields, purple and green. - A boat lost at sea, I can't see, but home calls me, It pulls me to shore. - Flutter of the wing, Sound is gone within seconds, Returned without words. - Gift upon the words, Flowers of the golden bloom, Never withering. - Death upon the air, Ingrained in a soldier’s mind, The stench of old blood. - The waters consume, Entrapped in their dark deepness, Never to see day. - Droplets of water, I flinch as they hit my face, Numbing sensation. - I long in silence, Terrified that if I spoke, You would slip away. - Endless void of space, Illuminated by stars, Twinkling at night. - Aedypapej, A leader among all men, Standing tall for us. - Snow is a gesture, It’s arms outstretched towards the ground, Sleep on white meadows. - Shame crawled through the door, Wearing nothing but wore clothes, It shrieked, then toppled. - A faint cry sounded, Pain enwrapped entirely, Only misery. - Cave built on wonder, Moonlit sky peaking through cracks, Dissolving within. “Nervous” A nervous chuckle escapes from My mouth every time I talk to you. An awkward tic, rarely ever caught And stopped, only after I came to. Thumbs round each other in circles, The soft scraping of skin calms my nerves. It soothes me, allowing me to continue Talking without stuttering or stopping. Pale cheeks lose themselves within the An ever expanding rose garden, Blazing fires cover them entirely, Burning a delicate hand’s gently touch. It is an endless cycle, the longing To talk with you despite the fright I Feel when we meet face to face. Anxious joy on a continuous loop. Even through this, I wish to be at Your side constantly, never departing.

Iulius Vernhart held the results in his shaking hand. He glanced to the other paper that was held in his opposite hand, the results of the last election. A deepening smile crept across his face as he looked between the two. Inhaling sharply, Iulius turned to Madeline Vernhart @MapleSunflower and handed her the newest election results. "Ea made it this time."

Iulius Vernhart sat back in his chair, reading glasses resting upon his face like normal. He bobbed his head, finger moving across the page as he scanned each line depicting the history and legacy of his new found family. He jotted down some notes into one of his well used journals before glancing up to Madeline, who had taken a more relaxing position up against the wall. “Another addition to the shelves.” A small smile forming on the corner of the young man’s lips.

Borris Iver Kortrevich relaxed back in his chair as he read the poem. He bobbed his head and smiled softly before setting the paper down on the desk before him. “So Oren does have poets… interesting.”

Iulius Vernhart slid the reading glasses off of his face before folding them and pushing them into his front jacket pocket. A smile hinted at the corners of his mouth as he set the sheet of paper into one of his many worn journals. “Glad to hear Lady Erika am running for office again.”

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 5 [!] A portrait of a teenage, Borris Iver Kortrevich 13th of Msitza and Dargund, 417 E.S. Hello, everyone. In lieu of a release of multiple poems for this year, there is one particular on that I wish to focus on. Then, at the end, there is a short poem which I thought would be something slightly different. Please enjoy, and I look forward to all your feedback as I pass my fifth year of writing poetry. “Blight of a Fallen Angel” The moon backlit the wings, Stars twinkling as it soars overhead. How graceful and elegant flies The winged-beast above the stead. Until landing with a crunch on The blackened soot streets, The creature ever circles us, Like a vulture in preparation to eat. Hideous… Monstrous… The words flood my mind as I watch This thing creeps further and further downward. It’s flight and appearance, a contrasting starch. A crack, a screech, a movement, a death. All things come as it smashes into the ground. It’s eyes glare at me, the hungered snarl From a vermin that does not play around. It hissed, then roared, it’s broad, black Wings outstretched to the fullest. It’s feathery chest stained with the crimson, Eyes piercing me with their dullness. I try to move but I am gripped by fear. The moonlit being that has ransomed Mind to the deepest depths of death. It calls me, yet only to have me condemned. It came closer, it’s daunting nature Surrounds my body and grip aimlessly. The hairs on my arms raised, the bones In my body shook as I stood, helplessly. My mouth opened to speak, but the terror That filled me, choked out every urge to scream. This seemingly beautiful thing from afar now Seeped into my realities as a nightmarish seam. Beware the soothing voices from beyond. Their words are salt poured into a wound. As for this hideous, monstrous creature, It was a beast, disguised as someone we loved and knew. “Honest” You say everything is fine. I say everything is not so. We spin in circles, Just to end up where we have been. A valiant effort, Yet it is a tower built on sand. We run, we fight, we die, A dog chasing its own tale. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich

Shaping of the Future: The Candidacy of Iulius Vernhart 9th of Msitza and Dargund, 417 E.S. [!] A portrait of Iulius Vernhart, c. 415 E.S. I once wrote that “the way one acts when power seems to be within their grasp is very defining. However, the way one acts when they actually hold that power is just as telling.” This is something that stands true throughout history, and will continue to stand as we head into the future. Power, as stated in the previous work, is something that needs to be handled with a great deal of confidence. Though, the responsibility that surrounds it often proves to be too great for people to handle alone. When looking at the great men of the past, those we remember with a fervence, have thrived because they surrounded themselves with wise counsel. Duma stands as one of our wise councils. It is the job of our Duma to pass bills that will better our place of habitation and society as a whole. This is why I, Iulius Vernhart, announce my candidacy for the position of Alderman in His Majesty's Royal Duma. Throughout my years in Haense, I have had the pleasure of being placed in positions that give me a unique perspective on the way that those within our society interact. Starting as a simple court governor, I was able to begin teaching those around me about the importance of the complex narrative. This complex narrative can only be seen if one first seeks to understand the details and claims of the situation around them, then moves to make a decision about what they deem morally acceptable or unacceptable. Additionally, I was granted the powers of a Jovinaar to seek out mercy of the wrongly accused and enact punishment on the guilty. The complex narrative furthers as a judge must be unbiased in all situations, hearing the claims of the situation around them before they make a decision of guilty or not guilty. I will always listen to both sides of the argument before I make the appropriate decision. Voting for me ensures a vote for someone in which you can trust to always have your best interest in mind. Impartiality, so that I may be able to listen to both sides of the argument, understand all facts that may rest within the nooks, then make a decision. Fairness, so that I, when I make a decision, may make it in such a way that benefits the most peoples, regardless of status, title, or, even, gender. Boldness, so that I may not be hesitant to speak out on such matters that are harmful to the peoples of Haense-Ruska. Furthermore, so that I may not be hesitant to speak on matters that may be difficult but will, in fact, result in a better society. Scholarship, so that I may be able to understand the background of a situation at hand, clarify questions if needed, and further define terms and ideals that others may be knowledgeable about. All men should strive to excel in these four areas, especially leaders. These are four areas in which I strive to enhance day in and day out. It is with these qualities, I will make an Alderman that allows for the people to speak through me and into the assembly. For what is an Alderman but an extension of the people of Haense-Ruska. With this in mind, I beckon all men and women of this great nation to allow me to be your voice and tool! Signed, Iulius Vernhart - Tutor, Jovinaar, Scholar, Scribe to House Ludovar.

Please include the following in your application: IGN: Tcs_tonsils_ Character Name: Iulius Vernhart Age: 28 Place of Residence / Street Address: May’s Alley V Position: Alderman

The Legendary Hero Dwarf, Chagrin Goldhand, rolls over in his grave.

Iulius Vernhart chuckled softly to himself as he read the title he came up with once more. "Hope people come to this event."

AULIC COURT OF THE KINGDOM OF HANSETI-RUSKA Krawn z. Boswen 8th of Msitza and Dargund, 415 E.S. Jovenaars Firr Iulius Vernhart Prosecution Defense Firr Brandon Boswen Testimonies THE FOLLOWING CHARGES WERE BROUGHT AGAINST THE DEFENDANT; XVIII Let he who flaunts the teachings of the Church of the Canon be guilty of Heresy, and let he who undermines or challenges these teachings be guilty of Sacrilege. (Jura I Kirma) THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE DEFENDANT; The defendant, Firr Boswen, admits to the crime of actively speaking about his faithlessness in public. THE FOLLOWING IS THE RATIONALE FOR THE DECISION FROM THE PRESIDING JOVENAAR; Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of guilt: The defendant is found guilty of Sacrilege. Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of punishment: The defendant, Firr Boswen, will be administered 12 lashes by way of flogging. He will then be transferred over to a priest to receive further understanding about Godan and his love. It is so ordered.