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The Combatant

Old Hat
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About The Combatant

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    The Belligerent.

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    ggteixeira
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    [email protected]

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  1. A moment of mourning… “To those who have lost their lives...” ...An unnaturally sombre tone. “...in our quest to reach this point…” The day pulls towards its midpoint though a thick layer of cloud dampens the light and heat provided by the sun. Despite the desertous expanse of Haria nearby, a large brazier has been dragged out to the gravestone of the late Lord Marshal Jacques de Felsen to keep the small host of knights, nobles and royals of the Kingdom of Courland warm. “...in our quest to forge a future for our sons…” The wind whips down from the mountains to the south, across the plain and into the fungal woods, drumming up a frightful howling. “..and our daughters.” The young King’s words spurred a few stifled sniffles from the widows present, though notably too the Staunton princesses, in memory of Prince Meric Staunton. Joining the Stauntons were the de Castros, de Savins, Merentels and the solitary von Curon and de Felsen men. “It is in the memory of men like these,” he continues, casting a thistle down to commemorate the loss of their greatest Lord Marshal to date, “that we continue to fight. Men like these that watch over Courland through the highs and lows, men like these that make Courland great.” Little did the host know that they had received an elevated audience during the time they had been out on the plain. A glance up followed by a hushed gasp caused more eyes to turn up from the grave. At first just a sole man donning orange and blue, then a second, a third, a fourth! The first mask was peeled back; a few would recognise the face quite quickly, a few more a little later; the crowd remain silent, some in anticipation, others in confusion. “Found ‘um,” the unmasked man remarks, “only took me a few years. What’ve I missed?” he asks as the horse leads gently down towards the group, being welcomed by the younger members of the Staunton family, though with a cold glance from the Queen Mother, all the while more men emerge from the oak and mushroom forest bordering the plains. The King’s men remain silent, before from the back, the words “war’s on the horizon,” are called out. The three mounted figures de-mask themselves, the first replying “just lucky we decided to return, eh Drake?” the man turns to his side, wearing an oddly familiar smirk. “S’ppose it is Joshua, they’d ‘ave been screwed without us,” the second replies, his visage too adopting the expression of the former blue-and-orange clad man. “Come on boys,” the third and final rider calls, a feminine voice erupting from the disguising armour, “can’t you see half of ‘um’re confused. The de Felsens return!” she yells, throwing her arms in the air before her horse, a little rowdier than the others, surges towards the side of the crowd at a canter. The ever growing force of grizzled, scarred veteran men step down into the plains too, most wearing smiles of contentment at returning to their home, all donning the de Felsen blue and orange. “And so it is,” King Joseph mutters, fighting back a smirk, “Jacque’s always watching over us, even when he isn’t here.” 11th of Snow's Maiden, 1612, a quick painting of Jacque's two sons, Drake and Josh de Felsen. Written by Func_Soap
  2. xc9rhC6.png

    1. Show previous comments  2 more
    2. seannie

      seannie

      oh my

    3. Aeldrin

      Aeldrin

      something something arteh skype logs p-powerful lotharingian imperial revival something something

       

      am I contributing yet

    4. Vege

      Vege

      ah indeed sir

  3. The young orange and blue attired mercenary would glance off into the horizon towards the city of Aleksandria. "Mask off. . ." He'd glance over towards his fellow sell-swords sliding off his mask. "**** it, mask on." He'd slide it back on.
  4.  

    1. Publius/James

      Publius/James

      rock paper scissors comp for Lotharingia let's go

    2. The Combatant

      The Combatant

      im coming one day or another

  5. King Arthur Horen would take the time out of his busy day to dedicate a short prayer to Ser Mattington Ironsword. He couldn't but smile at the end, remembering the memories of fighting alongside the brave warrior during the Mardon-Courland conflict. "A loyal soldier."
  6. ((As a nation leader involved in this war, I personally think that it's all fine. But on the topic of mob-spawning, the enemy forces should be given a reasonable and set number of mobs they're allowed to spawn in throughout the battle and how/where they spawn in should also be reasonable.)) King Arthur 'the Colossus' Horen chuckles as he sends out a variety of letters throughout his kingdom. "Rally the banners and send out word, within the next two saint's day we must elect a Marshal."
  7. --- “You must slay one of the many undead that plague our lands with undeath, you must help one whom reaches out for others in needs and, you must toss aside something that you hold close to yourself. Only then, my apprentice, will you be worthy. Go forth, complete your trials. . . . The voice of his teacher echoed through his mind before suddenly being interrupted by a barrage of ear-piercing shrieks. All around him fire cackled, buildings crumbled and undeath wandered the streets. The small group of soldiers quickly formed together, in front of them all a tall and noble cleric whose right-forearm engulfed itself in a bright light. “HOLD THE LINE, WE MUST RETAKE THE CITY!” Shouted out the predominant figure at the head of the infantry. As the armored men braced and prepared themselves, so did the young adolescent in the back, no older than fifteen. Drawing back his bow, the Felsenic boy would fire ahead into the ever-growing crowd of ghouls, falling one with a clean hit to the forehead but in the larger scheme of things, doing nothing. His eyes would widen as realization hit him hard, just like the flanking undead hit the soldiers from the tavern to their side. . . . “You okay there kid?” Asked the same cleric from before as he leaned up against a barricade recently thrown together on the outskirts of Bastion. “Yea. . .” Mumbled Drake through heavy breaths before resting himself on the dirt below. A moment of silence followed afterwards. “What about the others?” Questioned the lad. “Good question. Let’s go find out.” Answered the cleric with a smile as he offered a hand out helping the boy up onto his feet. “Name’s Karyssmov Faroe by the way, cleric and heir to Sutica.” “. . . Drake.” . . . “I completed the first trial, teacher. . . I killed an undead. I-I killed many.” Stuttered the boy before slowly lowering his head in defeat. “But, I couldn’t save them. . . There were just too many, I, I had to run.” With a hand run scuffling through his hair, the boy raised his gaze to in his surprise be met with a warm smile. “You did good, underling. Can’t save them all, it’s just how things are. But you can save some and help others. Now go like your father did, de Felsen, go and complete your trials.”
  8. King Arthur Horen couldn't help but chuckle at the news. "A League of legends."
  9. +1, genuinely a smart guy with great ideas and a great attitude.
  10. Arthur Horen smiles as his allies celebrate.
  11. King Arthur Horen smiles: "Great things lay ahead for this alliance."
  12. jon noj signs real hard (rise of kings)
  13. the et is appropriating my ideas