Lhindir_

Ugunga edition.

Ostromir Carrion Seethes as his castle is still not returned to him.

cum?

((Godspeed bro))

Its cool.

"Who?" Asked a Carrion.

Forever missed by Ser Khroll.

Ostromir Carrion, in the depths of his lair practices electric guitar skills while listening to

Ostromir Carrion, once Lothar's friend, who later stole his cannon designs and claimed them as his own a lifetime ago, idly tapped his talons atop his throne. So the elder would've given into a light cackle, evidently amused by the current events, as the lich then begun to pen.

A creature in the dark, stirs. Its sleep has come to end.

[!] The county of Dobrov, set alight in malefic and blackened flame. Gravelord Nito - Dark Souls Soundtrack It began, as all fell tales do, with a rider in black. A single warning, for the sleepy county of the Carrion line - four silhouettes upon the horizon, a doomsayer of things yet to come saddled upon a pale steed. Soon then, under the light of the waning moon, was it joined by others - hordes of aberrations, growling and groaning all the same, bound in servitude and eternal suffering to a king in crimson which led the host of the damned. Foul incantations were spoken and supplications to darker powers offered; women and children huddled scared under thatched roofs and the guardsmen assembled to try and mount some measure of defense against the horrors to come. The horde was upon them quicker than they realized. In vain were heroic defenses carried out, the fight taken to the blackened masses, but it was not enough. Men and women alike were slain by the score in the streets, shambling corpses setting the houses alight and hulking aberrations sending walls to crumble down. The waters of the lake turned an inky black, a gaping rift in the earth swallowing the waters and spiriting them away to an endless abyss - nature howling in pain as trees and plants withered from the blight visited upon Carrion soil, brought low by most wicked malediction. The dawn soon broke, and the riders left - the County of Dobrov laid low, burnt and brought down around the still-standing statue of Ostromir Carrion. All that remained was blood, ash, and the sorrow of the horrific tragedy that had been visited upon the city. Ty to alty for writing this

I got a place out in tampa if you wanna swing by this summer

: S

: O

: D

: )

I thoroughly and absolutely enjoy mordu removing lore and then replacing it with his own lore post.

A lich starts to scribe its name.

Music From ash we are made gold LAMENT OF THE DAMNED (Big Ty to Nozoa for help) I sit here, lamenting my state, and it came to me; I possess all there is to possess. I am everything there is to be - but better. I am a God, and a sick one at that, for what God questions himself, his own faith- his own nature? So now I remain, rotting away endlessly but unable to die. Starving but unable to eat. Craving a high which I may never repeat. I have forgotten what it means to be alive, and I will never get to experience death. What kind of existence is this? A fool I was. “Salvation” I thought. “Godhood” I still think. My skin crawls, my throne festers, my crown beckons; my court answers. For I am nothing but I have everything. With the snap of a finger, a city is razed. The flick of a wrist, a dead body is raised. But it’s lost its meaning. The power I now have has lost its allure, its charm; the illusion has been broken. And now my chronicles have been left unspoken, and those few who still recall my name reside by my side in a tomb unopened. That feeling, oh! The feeling. Yes, now I recall. The scent of crimson ichor coating the whip as I struck it. It was so real. It was true. I was ravenous for their screams and cries for mercy. It gave the air a certain profound freshness; a fleeting nirvana. How I wish for it once more. The touch of her hands upon my skin. But now I have no skin. I am a shell - an amalgamation of flesh and bone. And my voice; sweet like syrup, but ripe with decay like an apple that fell too far from its tree. A life of strife, ambition, and power, all up to this moment beyond itself. I am empty, my soul long sacrificed in pursuit of selfish desire. Flesh and bone, I simply am. My mind perpetuates, endlessly drifting in and out of places unimaginable to feast on truths incomprehensible. My throne has become one with me, as I am one with it. A crown in the place of a soul. My Bones brittle, but unbreaking. My Blood dried and tainted. I am not dead; For I am death. I am a God, a parable, a symbol - a meaning. I am eternal.

Ostromir reads the notice with evident amusement, for the horror that has become. So it reaches towards its chessboard, and moves a black pawn forward.

Stop using plugins LMFAO. We did hundreds of warclaims back in the day with none of them, stop trying to automate or enhance the experience, its unneeded and only breaks the server.

Good riddance

Ostromir Carrion is fuming at whatever happened to his castle.