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The King Of The Moon

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About The King Of The Moon

  • Rank
    Nobility
  • Birthday 01/23/1998

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  • Minecraft Username
    TheKingOfTheMoon

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    The Moon
  • Interests
    Memes.

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Leopold Guy Helvets

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  1. Prince Leopold presided over the Choir of the Kaedreni Grenaiders, when he heard word of the hag’s passing. The boy nodded a few times, a deflated sigh escaping him before he instructed the Choir: “Today, we shall sing in the key of F.”
  2. FULL NAME: Leopold Guy Helvets AGE: 12 RACE: Human RELIGION: Owynist ((MC name)): WeFailedGod ((Time zone)): GMT
  3. So you’re telling me if I’m vocally against homosexuals being executed, women having their genitals mutilated, global warming, imperialism, genocides targeting minority groups, indigenous displacement and antisemitic movements – to name a few topics - then I’ll get banned? Or is it only bannable if I talk about ideas you don’t personally politically align yourself against? I’m a history student and I don’t think I’ll be able to discuss my topic of study if we’re all ‘protected’ in the way you’d like. Politics isn’t everything, but it does touch everything. To deny that would be very naive.
  4. “We don’t need any more pagan alliances...” a young prince frowns.
  5. A natural philosopher, as experienced as he was pretentious, glanced over the thesis. He’d nod a few times, murmuring. “The clergyman is on to us...”
  6. Prince Leopold’s childish wroth is appeased, for now...
  7. Prince Leopold frowns, wondering why Curon doesn’t stand with its Kaedreni brothers also.
  8. “Oot teh gaits!” called a brave voice of the Poor Fockin Infantry. Leopold looked out from the battlements, stunned. The young cadet came down, accompanying two other more experienced soldiers to the outer wall. Unmistakably, these were men of the dreaded A.I.S., but the Prince hadn’t quite caught their faces amidst the drawing of blades and the twanging of bows. A cavalryman of noble stock, and a knight of some description, each decorated in expensive armour and sporting Horenic features. Clearly he’d thought, the nine year old and his peasantly compatriots would be no match? Woe to the young Prince Leopold, who’s first fight should have been his last. His sword, fitted for size, was the only sharpened blade of the Kaedreni force’s, whilst the Poor Fockin Infantrymen led the charge with their pitchforks and scythes, slingshots and bows fashioned from recycled walking sticks. For near a Saint’s Hour the battle raged on, as working men marched and dove through brush and field, chasing their better equipped foes on through the Kaedreni hedgerows, only for the scoundrels to slip off into the trees or across the streams and outpace the Poor Fockin Infantry and their patriotic boy-soldier each time over. The situation seemed dire, perhaps hopeless as they ventured far from the safety of Ves and into the east… But then, a miracle. A well tossed pitchfork took the rider’s horse down, courtesy of the apple-chewing Manfred of Kaedrin and an unnamed Poor Fockin Infantryman. Meanwhile the young Leopold followed on after the other mysterious figure that’d threatened Kaedrin’s borders, with the guidance of one Declan of Kaedrin who’d pelted the knight with stones and turnips alike, twanging them from a decrepit slingshot until the invader was fool enough to stop and engage. There they met the warrior head on, and the young Prince of Kaedrin bloodied his blade for the first time. A clang of one sharp rock hauled by Declan into the mysterious soldier’s armour brought him to a halt, followed by crunch of sword upon bone as Leopold took an unclean cut into the man’s spine. “Oi bloodie ‘ell.” proclaimed Declan amidst the sound of the A.I.S. soldier’s choking on his own blood, a well placed hand checking for valuables “Tha’s only A NONDESCRIPT SOLDIER, A NOBLEMAN FROM Rewbern!”. Prince Leopold shook, as he wiped blood from his face, the nine year old coming to terms with his newfound awareness for the mortality his fellow man. He blinked down at the suffering RUBERNI NOBLE , before making the final blow to finish off his enemy for his Kingdom and his Empire. Head in hand the party re-grouped, the mysterious rider having made his escape, though the head of their enemy remained clenched in the Red Prince’s hand. This would be a day to renew the spirit of Kaedrin and its impoverished soldiery. A day of celebration. The first of many days, perhaps, on the road to victory. More peasants were called across the fields of outer Ves and into the square, to celebrate the Poor Fockin Infantry’s triumph. A new portrait of the Prince and the Poor Fockin Infantry came to decorate the Palais de Varoche... And a new trophy was placed at the gates of the Golden City. ((Post updated to comply with staff ruling on namedropping dead characters through forum RP that may not intend to PK))
  9. “Ave Kaedrin, Ave Orenia.” cites the young prince, Leopold Helvets.
  10. [”]My holiest city was sacred in spite of Harren’s rejection, it is spoiled by the blood of kin. Thou betrayest man with thy wrath, and once again Horen’s son are divided." And Owyn cried out “O Lord, forgive me.” And GOD spake again. “That which is done is not undone, for the lords of this land have seen thy sin.[”] - Scroll of the Gospels: Owyn, Given to We the Faithful by the Exalted Prophet Godfrey. Doomed to wander a world of waking dreams and unconscious reality. Alwin Sintel woke up screaming, again.
  11. [”]My holiest city was sacred in spite of Harren’s rejection, it is spoiled by the blood of kin. Thou betrayest man with thy wrath, and once again Horen’s son are divided." And Owyn cried out “O Lord, forgive me.” And GOD spake again. “That which is done is not undone, for the lords of this land have seen thy sin.[”] - Scroll of the Gospels: Owyn, Given to We the Faithful by the Exalted Prophet Godfrey. Alwin Sintel washed the sweat from his face, another nightmare. He crept from his bed, finding himself in the pool at the bottom of his cave, that gave life to the herbs he’d been farming. Cracks in the walls let in moonight, beneath which he sat – on the glassy water’s surface, as if it were solid ground – and contemplated.
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