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About Gilded

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    Golden Individual

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    Wandering Atlas

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Rickard Vientos
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  1. Rickard Vientos swept his gaze across the parchment, offering an amused chuckle. “I believe it’s fair to say that those Thanian mongrels had it coming!”
  2. Lore Watchlist – Big Brother is watching.

  3. Viktor Kovachev rolls in his grave. ~ Rickard Vientos threw the missive into the fire. “A failing kingdom grasping for relevancy!” he stated bitterly.
  4. Rickard Vientos produced a thin smile, sipping a glass of Aeldinic Red. “It seems the Llyrians have finally responded to that psychopath’s actions! Now to observe their judgement upon those who stood by him.”
  5. I am fortifying this position!
  6. A good read and interesting lore. This is looking great! +1
  7. Rickard Vientos shed a tear at the passing of his son, wishing Hiren safe passage through the Soulsteam.
  8. Legend of Zelda - Breath Of The Wild There’s a large open and interactive world to explore and plenty of adventure to be had. I’d be chuffed at having the chance to return with a Sheikah slate, the abilities of the four champions, a Hylian shield and even the Master Sword.
  9. “I’m here again,” he muttered, a familiar cold wind brushing again his face. It was the same dream as last time; how it made his night restless. A battering blizzard, cruel and cold. Rickard had never thought of himself as a man with irrational fears, but even now he could feel the sweat upon his forehead. He could feel the shivers running down his spine. This immaterial, this dream… it felt so… life-like… The scion of Kovac wasn’t without his wounds - years of tedious political intrigue, raging wars and all manner of dark creatures had all left their physical blows. Yet, Rickard didn’t like to complain; a man of northern stock was bred to face hardships, even embrace them. But even so, the physical scars and the mental scars were very different things; one was far more crippling than the other. “Why do I come back here, every time?” he asked himself. “Do I doubt myself, or am I lost?” Of course, he could expect no answer. This was a dream after all and he was talking to himself. There was no one here to answer him, not even if he shouted with all the air in his lungs. There was no one... “Bravo, you actually answered both of those questions correctly, Rickard.” A voice crept across the snowy tundra that was Rickard’s mind - a cold landscape, unbreaking and pure. It felt so familiar to him. It was childish in nature. It echoed from afar… Then there, blinking through the snowy blizzard, a faint light danced across the ice. “Who’s there?” the Ascended inquired, to no reply. The fire brightened as he walked closer; orange flames sparked and burned upon spruce logs and dry timber. Yet, it was small, hardly enough to warm a single person, never mind a group. However, much to his surprise, this fire was actually occupied, though its warmth was swiftly evaporating. The boy sat before him, planted in the snow, was a youth of clear noble stock. He was grubby in the face, perhaps a little battered, but still carried sharp and perhaps even handsome features. The cold had without a doubt eaten away at his body; he was a skinny thing, plumped up by large fine-furs; no doubt a Hansetian bear cloak, which shielded most of his head from the elements. Rickard admittedly was clueless. He had encountered no one else in this dream, at least not until now. “Who are you…?” he asked, sitting himself down by the dying light. The boy’s deep-green eyes stared upon the Ascended. “When did these nightmares start, Rickard? Before of after Victoria’s death?” Those words stun and left Rickard dazed. He had mourned for as long as he should’ve, as any loving husband would, but admittedly, his heart felt incomplete with her passing. “Spare me the agitation. Answer my question!” he spoke with rage, to which the stranger replied unfazed. “First you answer my own, then I shall consider showing you the same decency.” The impudence! This was a blow to Rickard’s pride, being dominated within his own mind. But still, he knew that sometimes in order to find the answers, something must be given in return. Many had contributed to the Ascended’s relatively new sense of self-restraint; more often than not, he reflected on the teachings of his mentor, Elvira. How she would disapprove were her adopted-grandson to break down now... “Yes… I miss her. She was the only person in my life who could complete me; I wouldn’t be here were it not for her. But, now that’s she’s gone, I don’t know what to do. A day doesn’t go by when I don't doubt myself...” He had answered the question, now he would wait. Strangely enough, though the cold was bitter and sure to sap the happiness from all those present, the boy’s expression broke into a smile. Then, without a murmur or complaint, he lowered the fur cowl that had sheltered his head from the frost. Now, everything was clear, the youngster's now-visible flaxen locks linking the dots. The voice, that face, those eyes and now his hair… Everything was so much clearer; it left the Ascended both puzzled and yet… amused. “Come now, isn’t it obvious?” the boy then asked. “I think I’ll stay, for just a little longer,” he resolved. The boy acknowledged this, adding another log to the fire, refueling the flame. “Stay as long as you wish, it is your mind after all.” And so, Rickard sat in silence. Then he chuckled. He chuckled for quite a while. It was obvious, this entire time. How did it take him so long to figure this out? There was no one there. He was talking to himself…
  10. “It seems the bastard line of Ivanovich can’t go half a century without self-proclaiming themselves the Kings of Ruska,” Rickard would comment.
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