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About Icarnus

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  1. Adrian returned to his lodge on the outskirts of the Crownlands and at once set at making himself comfortable. He removed his overcoat and spread it over the back of his arm-chair, casting his boots into a dusty corner. He had always reckoned life to be at its best when he was so busy with the life of a regimented soldier and a father that there were not enough hours left in a day to be overcome with boredom. From birth this credo followed him, the man acting as a soldier from the age he could hold a sword. But in his recent years, somehow, he was beginning to find the days oh so long. Too long, even. His tightly-strung propensity for labor and literature began to grow sick and tiresome. Seldom now did Adrian wake up early and read over old law manuscripts until the quiet light of early dawn as he had so often found himself occupied with in the past. Sometimes, he would just lie there, the blankets pulled up to his chest, and the idea of perhaps giving in and not leaving his bed for the day seeping into the dark crevices of his aging mind. Lying in his late-mornings, oft into the mid-afternoon, he began to feel a terrifying lack of spirit in his surroundings and achievements. It seemed his body felt this too, his heart, still filled with the vigor of a man standing in the prime of his years, taking the most abortive of murmurs to give out – the organ stopped dead, taking Adrian with it. He clasped dearly the last vestiges of his livelihood: his wife, his children, his Empire. This isn’t the end, surely – for the skies await us my dearest.
  2. ((remove your lewd profile picture before you posture with pvp posts IM SICK
  3. Adrian rolls in his grave to give the Emperor a thumbs up
  4. The Lord-Protector sat in his bed, surrounded by his ministers of the realm. The sheets were drenched crimson with his blood, as was the floor beneath. The features of the soldier-protector of the empire, deformed by death, were ghastly and horrible, and more than one livid wound appeared in the face. With the slow rattle of a man gripped by some fever, he slowly spoke his will to his council, his page-boys shakily scrivening his speech all while the bile of death bubbled and seethed at the corners of his mouth; *** Instrument of Coronation I, Adrian Leopold of the House de Sarkozy, Lord Protector of the Holy Orenian Empire, Duke and Governor-General of Helena, Duke of Adria, Baron of Renzfeld, do hereby declare my irrevocable determination and will in legitimising as the rightful successor to, and without impediment issuing the coronation of, Antony Sigismund to his rightful seat of the throne of the Holy Orenian Empire. It is with a graven pen that I write this, but hope not that these last words before I succeed from this mortal coil into the seven skys tinge the celebration and jubilee that should rightfully be afforded to the leader of man on his coronation. With this immediate transferal of power the protectorate-interregnum is dissolved, all rights and titles afforded to myself, and any other Lord Protectors of the crown are returned to the throne once more. God save the Emperor. Adrian de Sarkozy. ((Coronation at 5 PM EST in Helena.))
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