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DahStalker

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  1. Emerentia miserably waits for her beloved niece to retire and then die, so she may finally ascend to the seven skies-.. or go under to warmer places.
  2. Bishop Dosiya Kortrevich enjoyed a mimosa from the seven skies, signing a cross before her.
  3. Elia Eryka Colbern enjoys a plate of spiced cod.
  4. Lhoris sips wine with a straw like an absolute monster, fidgeting heavily. "Yes... yes..." She'd whisper to herself primarily, slowly dragging her fingers through Mika's hair... weirdly..
  5. Light Never Wavers __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Your words in irony are laced with falsehood, claiming that God has died. His morals and words live on even if in some truth he is physically no more. He lives through the beam of light which has been birthed in the allies who flank beside us; that of Xan, Michael, and Owyn. You say that you shall not hide though lie behind a moniker with the meaning of plague. Perhaps in earnest truth that is what you are, a disease. We need not the protection of God, for the tribulations he grants us is merely a trial of our faith and ability to strive. We shall reach the glory of the Light while you fester and rot. While there are only obstacles to block light momentarily, sickness can be rid of. Farewell rot, for you shall be conquered and abolished. - Cyra of Ahad
  6. A Humble Request _________________________________ [A painting of Lady Haense] Penned by Lady Elia Eryka Colborn On this 4th of Jula ag Piov __________________________________ We are all children of GOD, that much is acknowledged. Yet, it seems that recently by the feverish zeal of our beloved sovereign that nobility within our ranks have publicly shamed for their unfortunate sin: lying outside of marriage, thus producing the birth of baseborn. Due to the wretched influence of the old Orenian Empire and the Mistress Rothesay, humanity has spiraled. Trends of copulation out of wedlock have filled Haense to the brim, and it has to stop. There must be consequences. I beg our King, our beloved Monarch, that he take action. However, in that same light, I would like to bring attention to the true sufferers of this lustful sin: the bastards themselves. They linger within our streets, scorned and socially shamed due to the error of their parents. How is that fair? It is said within the Scrolls, “So I am the Most High, and in pursuit of My Virtue, I bid my faithful this: You shall not lie with your kin, nor those of other tribes, and none shall lie together but in holy union.” [Virtue 3:9] Where does GOD say that the product of this sin must suffer the same as the sinner themselves? I implore you, be the merciful sovereign GOD intended for Haense. You are the son of your father and more. Show righteousness where it does not shine; Ensure that the peers of your realm legitimize these children to spare them from their parents’ sins, just this once. Moreover, I suggest the establishment of a social blockade to prevent these bastards from being born furthermore, so that no child should ever suffer in this manner again. And so, I plead with you, your Majesty. Be considerate in your decision-making and think not only of the acts committed by your peers, but of the innocent children who suffer the consequences. In doing so, I implore that you allow these children to live free of shame and humiliation. I beg you of this, please. It pains me greatly to see the bastardry of Haense suffer so terribly for circumstances so blatantly out of their control. Your loyal servant and fellow Canonist, Lady Elia Eryka Colborn
  7. Colborn Culture: Legitimization “RITE OF GODRIC” Discovered by Elia Eryka Colborn ________________________________________________ I. Introduction II. Preparation III. Ceremony IV. Celebration V. Final Remarks ____________________________________________________ I. Throughout the duration of my Coming of Age trials I have been tasked with discovering an ancient part of my culture, bringing it back to light. Hence, I have made the rediscovery of our ancient tradition regarding legitimization. Within this publication I will digress on the proper etiquette, preparation, and celebrations done throughout this important practice and provide further elaboration on the required process for its completion. II. The preparation for the transition from Black to Colborn begins years prior. The fortday before said baseborn child selects their Patron Ancestor for their Coming of Age trials, they are required to pick the elderberries for ceremonial vintage. Typically, this is done alongside the ruling Patriarch or Matriarch at the time, where they and the participant speak of the future, religion, and hope. While simplistic as a task, this beginning gesture holds great symbolism for a long hopeful future. After the elderberries are plucked the bastard or another member of the family will brew a wine out of said fruit, storing it away in a clay pot etched with religious and familial engravings such as crosses, sigils, and otherwise. It is after this that the recipient shall be granted their Coming of Age trials to which if they pass shall be formally acknowledged by the Church, yet not yet by the household. After this the next steps may be initiated. (Should said Black be unable to finish the trials, the ceremonial wine is to be fed to flames, and their Patron Saint apologized to) With the further preparation the bastard in question is required to collect flowers, one per Patron Ancestor of the five they select, different for each one. These are to then be presented to the Patriarch/Matriarch in ruling before being ground down into a paste. Alongside this it is required for the Black to acquire an item as a gift for their selected Patron Ancestor, to honor them. And finally for the bastard and their personal preparation, they must ready a speech of gratitude and hope for the future with their newfound surname. To be spoken at the conclusion of the ceremony. As for the Patriarch/Matriarch they must ready a pendant with the Colborn tree to be gifted to the Black further within the ceremony as well as a speech regarding the participant. III. The ceremony of legitimization begins with the bastard in question donning a cloak made for black bear pelts, kneeling before the start of a pathway with herbs and wood ready to be set ablaze. A family member will then set forward while mumbling a prayer of their choosing while coating the scalp of the Black in the flower paste until it is covered in a thick coating. Soon after the path will be set on fire and slowly the Colborn will tread to the other side while a ceremonial speech will be given by the Patriarch/Matriarch. During the speech and walk the Colborn shall also be drinking from the elderberry wine they crafted years prior. When reaching the end of the aisle they will be greeted by a basin or barrel of holy water and promptly beckoned to place their head into it entirely and wash off the flower paste. It is then they revoke their beat pelt and replace it with the gifted regalia by the head of the house at the time. Concluding the ceremony, the now legitimized member of the family is made to face those in attendance and make their speech. IV. After the grandiose ceremony the family would typically host a long celebration with an assortment of events. It is common that the events are catered to the likes of the legitimized kin themselves, paired with drinking and dancing. Examples of this could be found with Lorence Colborn who found the majority of his celebration themed with vibrant colors and painting as he was a famed Colborn artist during his time, responsible for many famous pieces in both Haense and family history. V. Tradition is what carries the legacy of our ancestors and our own, engrained deeply within ourselves through every step. It is my intention to ensure and hope that within this publication future kin may continue to carry this sacred ceremony with them. So, they may ensure that all of their children bask in the glory that the Colborn before us had planned for. It is in this same light that I devote the rediscovery and publication of said tradition to my beloved cousin Lorence. Family through Fire.
  8. The Huntress and Crow _________________ A ballet composed by Lady Elia Eryka Colborn ________________________ DESCRIPTION Romance, tragedy, and misfortunes. The tale of a famed Huntress who as result of a challenge fall deeply in love with the Crow Beast. However, shall their love fester or will it die from jealousy? Adventure with the Huntress as she ventures within the forests of Hannes shall be faced with a number of tribulations and newfound emotions. It is with great joy that we announce the requirement of places filled, and thus shall be hosting auditions. CHARACTERS The Huntress Crow Beast Vlad Hunters The Sneaky Foxes The Fairies The Deer The Wolves AUDITION FROMAT: Username: Discord: Character: Desired Role(s): [AUDITIONS WILL LAST FROM THE 16-19TH AT ANY PLANNED TIME BETWEEN I AND INTERESTED PLAYERS]
  9. ur mother lhoris and father mika @mika1278
  10. The morning had started with the chaos of servantry pivoting around to organize the furniture to accommodate the upcoming event, frenzy following every haste step. At the end of the hall, a teen with copper curls paced, directing each man and woman to their proper stations, frustration evident with the wrought of her brows. “Nejt, to the left- it looks crooked.” She’d exclaim with feet carrying her along the aisle in long strides. The hostess of the upcoming festivities, her cousin, had devoted herself to extra slumber. The stars in the night before had not been enough to lull her asleep peacefully, and thus the responsibility of the preparation was rendered to the eldest; herself. As she pivoted down the stairs she was greeted to the sights of her grandfather, positioned at the flank of her beloved ‘nanny’ Rudolf, talking as they marked off the oncoming barrels of Ale. To the furthest was her cousin Maric with his son Lorence as they assisted the servants carrying tables to the floors above. And finally her brother Ernst, takes interviews within the confines of his office. This was an event to anticipate. The end of Duma had brought further lines of stress to her temples and yet as she approached a certain individual at the aviary she could feel the heavy thud of her heart return. It was an unruly tension, an agonizing grip of anxiety that oddly enough led to excitement and joy - rather than that of dread. She had wondered if this is what was felt by her farfadir when he had met his love Gwyn, was this the beginning blossom of an unyielding affection? She could say not, she would have to ask him later. After the party would do. While her guest had other obligations to attend and could not make the evening events, she hardly let it falter her spirits. She’d dine with her friends of new and old, tasting the finery of their culture, and liquor from their souls. From the corner of her eye, she could see her guardian speak to Ipera de Falstaff regarding the history of their friendship and more - a common trait she held. Something she had learned through the years; is that history is of utmost relevance and importance to carry anew. She’d smirk to herself and glance to the table, entirely content. When it came to the waltz of flourishing skirts and sporadic dances she had found herself pinned to the corner of the simple ballroom, only to be beckoned inward to a forced dance between herself and her eldest sister. With the grace of his smile, her farfadir had encouraged her to forcibly drag her sister along in a morbid way of twists and turns. He had always called her a ‘wallflower’. The night had ended grotesquely, filled with tears and sobs, to the point of raw voices. She could not recall much beyond then, it had turned into a miserable blur. At some point both herself and Adrian had pushed to the side, he angled against the railing, and she per usual at his flank. A brief remark and smirk had been directed his way, but he had seemed distant as if he saw something. When he brought himself to the stairs she allowed her eyes to seek the confines of the ballroom once more; lovers entangled in an embrace, siblings frolicking around, and tiresome guardians preparing themselves with departure through concluding the conversation. The first thud of impact had directed her to stare at the tripping elder as he flew down the stairs, eyes grew wide as she shrieked so loudly her throat wobbled with sheer force. There was blood, his frame limp, yet his spirit still bound. The night was numbing, full of relatives coming and going as they blessed their beloved Patriarch, beckoning their momentary goodbyes. As her steel eyes met the pale lids of his own she could only feel another fit of tears asunder, chest heaving as the teen gradually lowered into a knelt position at his bedside, palms desperately reaching out for him. “When our ancestor Jesper was faced with sickness, he conquered the realm through his hope and perseverance. It is nejt time for you to go- you will rise once more, and be with us. You shall see Catalina walk down the halls of a cathedral, see Lorence bring glory to the Colborn name, Ada will avenge her fadir, and Allyssa will grow to be like farmodir. All of us are nejt yet grown, we have nejt finished our story, and nejt have you yet either. I- I will remain resolute like you, for our family.” It was then the girl recalled the events prior, up to Duma, and tears blurred her vision once more. “I-...” The girl began, voice hoarse as she bellowed out in a singular sob unable to be contained further. “H-..” The words stuck, wobbling in their attempted escape as she thought of the stories from Attenlund, one of expedition, adventures, and love. Hours of tales spoken in soft murmur regarding his beloved, of the family he had formed with her, the wish he had honored. So many words unspoken and so much advice untold. “He calls me Ellie.” Escaped the words, pushed through alongside a storm of sobs, the wall of defense fully shattered now as she collapsed at his side. The dew of the morning felt sticky and dour, unlike the common crisp of the air. Everything felt more compacted now as the girl had bound herself to the keep, sheltered away. Fingers curled inward against her shawl as she roamed the halls absentmindedly, numbed from emotion. She had struggled to keep her defense up once more after the nights before, managing only feeble smiles toward her relatives. But, she could yet face the world. On that fateful morning and knocked at her door, she received a letter from the trusted burgrave. She read it once, twice, thrice, and twelve times more. Each second and time she allowed the words to soak further and further into her core, rumbling with the might behind each written letter and phrase. Digits lined the contour of each lettering, recalling how the lines curved or perhaps where the quill had lifted, numbness draining some. The change had occurred and her life would never quite return to being the same. It is whispered that after a month had passed with the vacant ballroom that the subtle request of igniting the lanterns within was made once more. Deep in the halls roamed the singular teen, dressed tautly in the thin skirts of her ballet attire, feet wrapped and bound with flats. Silently she faced the shallow walls before bringing herself upright onto a toe, beginning to lurch herself into a wordless dance of sorrow and acceptance. And as those pirouettes began with the haste application of speed she brought her limbs inward, complexion tilted upright to the grim ceiling as tears flowed freely. For once without the aid of her grandfather, she had begun to heal on her own. Endurance.
  11. Lowering the blueprints from her grasp upon hearing the news her lips pivoted into a grin, immediately shifting to the library to look for scrolls of ancient Colborn traditions to use for proper celebration.
  12. “NICE” says Elia Colborn.
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