Icarnus

A Dance of Desolation The effusive lack of tranquility reverberated within mind - deafening tones continuously flooding his congnizance as multitudes of harsh, discordant sounds were uttered in the direction of the snow clad Krepost. _____________________________________________ An olden Knight wiped his brigandine in a hastened flurry, an outstretched gauntlet pawned upon the collar of the young garnered boy as he continued his advance in an unremitting fury. A nameless towheaded child guided the two forth, rising the stone fringed stairway of the palace whilst unclipping the cloth linen of his scabbard; upon ascenion he'd lower his shoulder, striking upon the doublet of wooden doors. His brisk pace taking to an abrupt halt, peerage scanning a room of sinister destruction beyond comprehension. It all seemed a dream, as if a bountiful blur of blinding visceral perplexity. Scorched and burnt, drapes were cast upon the blood spattered cherry toned floorboards - the leftward side of the room probating a scene of melodramatic occurrences: being the progeny of the Queen Sophia set aflame, clutched within her now-alight palms. On the right ushered a duo entrenched within the corner, weapons drawn. Out of something of unexplained rage or instinct, Ser Laurens immediately slew outwardly his broadsword - ordering his squire the same. _____________________________________________ As the grizzled Knight brought forth his approach he was stricken upon the chest by a small rapier of the leftward elf, piercing his brigandine as he now held it intently within his blood soaked leathered gauntlet. Unyielding, Laurens continued onward and with one accompanying thrust he brought the entirety of his sword through the elf's torso until the crossguard of his blade met their clothed figure - the elven belligerent peered upon Laurens, face to face, eye to eye. The elf held steadfast in stature, writhing in pain as it spat blood upon the face of the Knight - not long before it would be cut down like a tree from its roots, the young squire Bryce hacking at its figure with vehement swings which could rival the greatest of warriors. Yet the arduous task had not yet taken an end, for there was another which retreated into the back rooms. Bryce charged forth, unaware that his Knightly protectorate followed suit swiftly to his hind - upon recognition that this elf would not suffer such an easy fate at the tip of their blades, for it began to charge something of a magic beam. Laurens, continuously clasping at his bloodied frame, brought himself upon the squire just as the blast ensued. It was an untimely end, deposed of his life in but a matter of seconds - yet naught in vain, for the squire breathed on. __________________________________ tl;dr Ser Laurens dies

the minimum is 3, not cap

You should be able to *blows horn* in one emote. What settlement do you realistically think is gonna have all their pvpers online at one time. I get it, raids were in essence turned against the raiders but its give and take, and continuously shunning 'Metagame'/the settlements ONLY way of defense is asenine. Nobody raids at peak times and that's a fact. and you speak as if GM's answer modreq's quick enough to intervene in CRP, lol.

hmmmm ?

Treshure with yet another quality post

Ser Laurens shined his breastplate with a newly invested vigor.

Pierre scoffed in dismay as he mantled his stew, tossing the missive upon the kindling. "A fight? This one's for the late Pontiff."

A Fools Missive; 7th of the Sun’s Smile, 1660 _________________________ Addressed to King and Council of the Renatian realm and its constituents “Down with the men who wish to distrain my home and wish to wring their gauntlets in the blood of my own.” _________________________________ Preamble I, Geoffrey Rozier Brandt herein lay claim to the town of Belvitz and its adjacent territories, excluding that by which is claimed to be Ruskan and Reiter. By name of my brother, Adelard; the one who was so dastardly stricken by impertinence on behalf of the Renatian crown. We will bow no longer, for the feats of man are ahead and no longer under your reign. If you wish for the land of the former realm of Blackmarsh, then you ensue war: and to that we accept. ______________________________ Signed, Geoffrey Rozier Brandt, Warden of Braband. Adelard Brandt, Duke of Blackmarsh

ouch https://imgur.com/gallery/7zcG8OW Innocent until proven guilty in the court of law; Insert portrayals below:

lets split up our already dwindling playerbase, great.

John Rembrandt licked the blood off his blade intently. "Scrumptious."

Zhelimir shines his newly acquired shield of Haense

Haense.

Leofric sharpens his blade vehemently

MARKEV Capital of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska __________________________________________________________ Portrayals & Depictions by Hadrianus and Leufred Clovannus,