JEEGK

FULL NAME: Arthur la Croix AGE: 35 PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Yes, plenty SIGNED NAME: Arthur la Croix METHOD OF CONTACT: jeegk/JEEGK

LF: Heavy-set human who is hard of seeing and born from church ties seeking to become a vampire. As long as preparations of some kind are put in place to avoid the issues of the last write, I see no reason to not give it another chance of the server, and at the chance we come across the same issues as last time they were implemented, gut them and scrap the idea all together, lock them in a coffin and seal it 30 feet under, never to be attempted again. There is no qualms in the write itself for me, just hoping it can be kept civil and the community can understand that we're all here to have fun and write our stories together.

Typical victim blaming werewolf 🙄

Donnie flicked the paper, a bright smile spreading across his face as he glanced over the people sharing drinks in his den. "The boy keeps moving mountains," he said, his voice filled with pride. "There's no one I'm prouder of than him." Promptly, he hung the missive up next to the other missive notarized by Galahad, looking each over with a lifted chin.

Donnie toiled away reading over the recruitment post, temples rubbed as he stressed over each line, "Free drinks are a MUST. Let's not step too far out of line, Tarrey."

“Be mindful, your sight will only carry so far…” … in the cadence of these whispers, echoes of cognition reverberate from two archetypes: those ensnared by the shroud of apprehension toward the enigmatic abyss, and those who, having plumbed the unfathomable depths, now stand illuminated by the arcane truths whispered by the cosmos. Such dichotomous murmurs weave through the tapestry of societal consciousness, embodying the eternal dance between the veil of uncertainty and the unveiling of esoteric enlightenment. “Be advised of the repercussions, do not venture deep.” In the labyrinth of academia, self-proclaimed "scholars" shroud themselves in the comfort of the known, timidly averting their gaze from the vast expanse of the uncharted. They forfeit the noble quest for enlightenment at the altar of self-preservation. Such reluctance to embrace the mysteries of existence is a lamentable spectacle. Cowards. "̵̺̞̓̊͘F̴̩̗͎̳̙̐̀ĭ̴͔̱̣̆͐n̶̯̠̫͈̯͎̄̐́̆͘͠d̴͉͖͉̣̈̓̀͒͂ ̸̲͉͕͍͕̆͌m̷͉̳̾̊̃͠e̵̝̰̍̈́"̵͈̙̱͕̆̈ In the spectral symphony where unseen voices echo, your resolute refusal to lend ear evokes a lamentable portrait. How, amidst the grand tapestry of cosmic inquiry, do you, in your stasis, forsake the dance of enlightenment? The silence you uphold amidst the chorus of beckoning spirits renders a pitiful tableau of missed opportunity. Amid the shifting sands of the subconscious, where dreams interlace with visions and hallucinations, a disquieting image unfolds—a veiled duet, chanting forth the mysteries of the Void. Their invocation, a discordant melody, whispers of unseen perils to those who dare ignore. Beyond mortal bounds, a sovereign entity stirs, roused from the hibernation of timeless slumber by a name unuttered for epochs untold. In this juncture of cosmic urgency, supplicants beseech her return, unwilling to linger in anticipation. This murky apparition serves as a cryptic harbinger, its shadowy contours urging introspection. The weight of impending catastrophe bears down, demanding recognition beyond the veil of mere happenstance. “Two hath become blessings from God.” OOC:

LETS GOOO! THANK YOU DEER!

Inside the dimly lit brewery, a man wrestled with a storm of indecision. Donnie stood in the shadows, eyes scanning the missive, his fingers threading through his hair in a gesture of deep contemplation. "Oh, Galahad," he murmured, voice tinged with both admiration and melancholy. "You have the strength to forge ahead and dream without limits. I can only wish you the greatest fortune in your future endeavors. Perhaps fate will allow our paths to cross once more." With a sigh, he rose to his feet, feeling the weight of the moment. He walked slowly to the door’s sturdy support beam, each step echoing with resolve. At the entrance, he carefully pinned the missive, ensuring it would be seen by all who entered the speakeasy, a silent testament to the bond and hopes he harbored for his once fellow brother-in-arms.

Alwyn la croix bent over and peered at the missive - his focus stuck to the rude comment, he began a rant to himself, "Ah, good sir or madam, dost thou not consider the weight of thine words when thou dost wield thy quill upon yon parchment? Verily, ink once spilled upon the page is as the die cast, forever marking the annals of time with thine unkind sentiments! Pray, dost thou not heed the permanence of thine actions? As the ink doth dry upon the page, so too doth it etch itself into the very fabric of history, a testament to thine folly for all eternity." He rose to the sky, fist thrown to the air, "But fret not, dear compatriot of the quill, for I bring tidings of solace! Should the sting of remorse beckon thee to action, let not the ink dictate thy penance. Nay, instead, let us embrace a more visceral approach! With resolve born of righteous fury, we shall grasp yon parchment with the strength of a tempest's fury. Tear it asunder, rending the very fabric of its existence, as a declaration of defiance against the unkindness it bears witness to." "Let us join forces, thou and I, in a quest to undo the transgressions of thine ink-stained past. Together, we shall cleanse the parchment of its textual sins, and in so doing, restore harmony to the annals of history! Oh Bless thy Godhunt! I shall bring forth thy RUIN!" He grabbed the addition to the missive and RIPPED it from the parchment - tearing it to shreds.

history repeats i put my prayers out to trapgodtrips amen.

YES!!!

Donnie la Croix paced in The Dragon's Den™ as he received the missive. His gaze ate the words and their meanings, "Another who renounces evil." he put out, quickly beginning to pack a sack, gathering another from the den, "Come along, Hero, there is someone I must meet, I cannot keep running this place all on my own." @kuebiko

Donnie smiled, watching the happy citizens of the Principality, offering his cheers!

An old 'aheral came across the missive, a weak smile filled his expression, "It seems we've found purpose, Father." The architect then proceeded his way towards the gates of Celia'nor.