Morinehtar

"A merchant republic is a hive of scum and villainy." Francois declares.

((Great Job Sir Alec Guinness.))

The Archer

Written by - George Forrester (Morinethtar)

In Memory of Dorian

Who is that man who wields the bow,

Who Beds the elves after every show,

Who is the man who took on the White,

 who took on a Spider's Den,

Who is the man who won the Glory,

Where is the man who wielded the bow,

Why is the bed so cold after every show,

Why is the white turning red,

Where is the man who took on a Spider's Den

Why is the man's glory fading on,

About the Poem

The Poem is about of course Dorian, A re-known hunter of his time. After his character passed on today, I thought it should of went out in a bang, So here is it _Ember, A poem for you.

"Dorian.. A name I've heard through out the years, while during my life on this earth. A man I knew little of, but think highly of. A man deserves honor, life or death. This man will be remembered for generations to come."

Finishing his apple, George begins to write a on another blank Piece of Paper. In Bold Letters it begins "DORIAN". He begins to write down a rough draft of the Poem.

(Ember don't be shy, please message me things that you did that your character did know. You seemed so awesome, when I first met you a while ago. I may not know you, but a Fellow Orenian deserves a poem, of honor.)

Gerold was Standing outside the Tavern, a Tobacco pipe, Grinding between his teeth. The silence around his breaks when a Halfling dressed normally for a halfling of his age began to yell down the streets Goodborough,

"The Grand K'ng is given' us land!"

With the news ringing through out the village, a Qu'eer smile was printed onto Gerold's Face. With his right hand, he gripped the pipe flicking his saliva from the lip of the pipe.

"W'll I be damned..."

100th Post!

Yes, yes! My One Hundredth post! Due to this amount I'll do what I do Best ~ Poems!

Yes, yes yes! Give me your character's name, special things they did, and I'll make a Poem about' them!

Format

MC Name:

Special Event 1#:

Special Event 2#:

Special Event 3#:

Special Event 4#:

Special Event 5#:

Special Event 6#:

Special Event 7#:

Special Event 8#:

Special Event 9#:

Special Event 10#:

Special Event 11#:

Special Event 12#:

(I'll be doing about 3 people, so three random people! The 12 events, help me out for each line, so please fill it out. Do it in a spoiler so that it doesn't take up room! Let it begin!)

George sits down at the Tavern Table, With a apple in his left hand, a quill in the other. He dips the quill into the Inkwell beginning to write on the blank page, under the yelling and laughter coming from the other rooms he mutters something, "Oliver de Savoie.." He begins to write a poem

(That is right! Next poem is about good old Olivier! Let us hope that he gets to see it, aye?)

A Knight of Lorraine

-Written by George Forrester (Morinehtar)

Do you hear the Bugle's trill,

The call of Order,

The call of White,

Have you seen the men in White,

The men who bares the Cross of Canon,

Defenders of Faith,

Defenders of Oren,

The Knights in White,

Who are in it for Life,

Once they take the Sacred Oath,

They wear the Cross for life,

Once they break the Sacred Oath,

There is No Turning Back,

About the Poem

I made it clear that I would make a poem for the Savoyard forces. This peom was made for Altiak (Bae) because he was there for me when I needed him the most. This is also for ANYONE who took on the White within' the server of LOTC. We all love you!

(If you do enjoy this, then don't be scared! Give it a +1.)

Crap is going down, Pull out your lawn chairs and get your popcorn. We are in it for a show!

Why? Because this isn't a proper halfling.  Proper Halflings do not want adventure, we want tea. They do not want violence, they want storytelling. Do you see the differnece and why most of the halflings can't "understand the situation like this"?

 White, if all halflings follow a code then roleplay would be boring as hell. Some halflings want to sit by a fire and drink till the gorge themselves. Some halflings want adventure, they want TO Be the one who is being told in stories. Personality or not, I share the name Halfling.

I'm fine with anything that happens, Gerold will be smoking Weed, and will go on adventures around Vailor. Better then being confined in Goodborough, I'll miss the little fishing village but there are adventures out there, waiting to be tamed. 

My life.

(Is the house Celtic themed?)

(Great Job, and all. I really love the detail. I may not have your blood, but you deserve my +1.)

Bangkok

 Alright so here is how to play, I'll start with a word, and the next person has to say the first word that comes to their mind from my word!

First Word:

Hillary Clinton

This where all those jokes about the Salty Orenian Civil War is born.

 Let me start,

'There I was surrounded by the enemy. Running low on Stamina. Just then, Guy de Bar kicked in the door. He screamed "Hey Crazy!! Get off the damn playstation and get down to Peremont!!"'

Rules

1. You may swear, but no Racial slurs.

2. Keep it creative, make it fun.

3. Be yourself.

WE SHALL OVERCOMB!

Ur smelly.

Just kidding, I love you Mitto.

"BLOODY HELL!" Richard screams, shoving all his papers off his desk. "On Both sides the troops were commanded by noble lords and they massacred each other mercilessly." He folds his left and right arm, to make a bed for his Head. Slowly, he begins to sleep.

Great Job, I liked it. +1

Papers, scatter Richard's desk, but the font of the poster catches his Eyes. Gripping the poster, with both hands he begins to read  "...Giant Squid." He mutters to himself as his eyes follow downward the poster. With his left hand he begins to burn the paper on his candle sighing, "If only.."  For a war, was on his mind.

A tear rolls down Frederick's right cheek, with his right hand he rubs it away "Cum illo stare Nobiscum.." With his Right thumb, he creates a invisible Canon cross on his chest.

The Eagle's Hunt

-Written by Hazelnut03

          Tenth of The First Seed, 1506

Six Miles outside of Petrus

The Crownlands 

     "Frederick! Wait up!" Leopold screamed, trying to Catch his Breath. "Run faster then, Kleiner Bruder!" The two Hohenstaufen boys were hunting for deer, and rabbits. They were planning to sell the meat, and pelts at the market square within' the city of Petrus.  Frederick began to slow down, pulling his bow off his shoulder. Leopold finally caught up, Scratching his chin he asks, "What is Frederick, you see something?" Frederick gave Leopold the hand, motioning him to be quiet. With his right right hand, he pulls a arrow from his quiver, placing it on the Nocking point. With his strength he pulls the string back, before releasing the string. A eerie cry, bursts from the tree line, as Frederick mutters, "Gotcha." He throws  the bow towards Leopold, pulling out his hunting knife, he charges towards the Tree line. Leopold Putting his arm through the gap between the limbs. He follows behind Frederick.

   "Frederick?" Leopold, stops just behind the tree line. He hears the tearing of flesh, before going through the tree line. Frederick was sitting, by the dead deer, putting it's organs into a leather bag. "Don't just stand that Kleiner Bruder! Help retrieve the organs!" Gesturing towards Leopold, swinging the hunters knife."The valuable parts of the deer, are kept within' the bag.  The remains are kept within' the deer." Leopold, retrieving his Hunting dagger, begins to remove pieces of  loin, placing it within' the bag. As the two were near at finishing, the silents was broke. SNAP, SNAP could be heard between the two, it sounded close. Someone was behind them.

    Frederick turned himself towards, the treeline, before gripping the leather bag. He pulls it up, over his shoulder before turning towards Leopold, whispering. "Run." The two boys, turning towards the North. "Run! Run and don't look back Leopold! Run to Petrus!" The two boys, began running towards, Petrus which was Six Miles away. Their legs were throbbing from the exercise, but if they stopped.. If they stopped then they would be goners. As the two reached the Bridge, towards Petrus, Leopold had to look back, he had to. What he say, still haunts him today. As he turned his head back, what he caught was haunting. A black shadow stood lifeless, like it was watching them from the tree line.

     The Two Hohenstaufen boys made it safely back towards Petrus, but at what cost? Something was watching them. This event changed the boys. What if they never ran, would they just be another story told to frighten children within' their covers? Who knows, what that shadow was, or what it wants. It is gone now, Gone with the rest of Athera.