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    Newly Spawned
  • Birthday 10/23/1997

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    Draiden Kaid

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    Medieval weapons and armor

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    Jager Faretto
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  1. Jager would adjust his Purifier's mask and laugh cynically. "I hope they don't expect me to take these Sutican laws seriously." He'd crumple up the missive and toss it into the fire, per tradition, and stand up with a sigh. "The last guardsmen who asked me to remove my mask didn't fare so well."
  2. Jager would read over the missive, confused as to how or why this note found its way into his hands. Nevertheless, he cracked a smile and carefully put the missive in his satchel instead of tossing it into his campfire. “Well, I feel loved today.”
  3. Jager would read the missive with anger boiling through his blood as a hand reached up to feel the scarring on his throat. "So, trying to kill unarmed men and children now, are we? This is what happens when aggression goes unchecked amidst the Vinlanders."
  4. Guns in Lotc? Sounds like a horrible idea.
  5. Jager would would look over the writ, a mix of pride and sorrow in his heart. "Well Tyr, you were wrong. Norland is our home once more, and your dreams are becoming a reality. If only you could be here to witness it yourself."
  6. Jager would begin to cackle to himself madly, crumpling up one of the several copies of the missive and throwing it into the fire. “With how stupid they think we are to fall for that, I’m surprised they’d write out a letter at all. They probably think we’re all barely literate.”
  7. Jager would look over the missive with a genuine interest. “Hm. I do love a good party. Dancing, food, other delightful diversions.” He tapped the shin of his mask in contemplation. “Though I don’t believe I’ve ever attended a party since that masquerade ball in Haense. What will I wear?”
  8. Jager would look down at the missive, chuckling to himself from behind his porcelain mask. "Well put," he mused, "If it were me, I probably would've just sent a letter saying 'no' and been done with it." He'd toss the missive into the campfire and stare up at the cloth ceiling of his tent. "Then again, that's probably why I'm not a politician."
  9. The Three Tenets From the perspective of a Scholar Writ av Jager Faretto Any member of our Faith knows the three tenets, but hardly anyone will be able to give a definitive interpretation of the tenets. Depending on who you ask, you will get a different answer every time. It is also a widely-held belief that this is intentional, and that the tenets are meant to be vague and undefinable in absolute terms. Many outsiders and even members of the Faith find this concept very confusing, but I find it a very intriguing question to dissect, especially when it comes to how it works into our ideology and dogma. To those reading who do not know the tenets, they are as follows: Suffer not the Unworthy Spread the Flame Stand Against the Darkness The warrior will give explanations on how it is meant to stand as guardians of mankind against those who wish it harm, even if it means to stand alone. The zealot will tell you it is to fight against the Canonists and other religions, purging their heresy with fire and sword. The scholar will say it is to learn, and to spread knowledge wherever you can. So why the ambiguity? The answer is simple. We grow and we change as people. Who we were before may not be who we are now. Similarly, the tenets are meant to change and bend to conform the needs of the Faith and the Faithful as time goes on. This all hinges on a few questions one must ask themselves if they are to find out for sure what the tenets mean to them. Who are the unworthy? Is the flame metaphorical? If so, what does it mean? How would you spread the flame? If the flame is metaphorical, what would that flame’s darkness be? How would one resist this darkness? These are simple questions, but in asking them one will find a roadmap of the mind. Of who they are, who they perceive as friend and foe, and what their ideals are. As time passes, these will most likely change, and their views of the tenets will as well, because change is something we can resist, but we cannot stop.
  10. Guiding Light A short essay Writ av Jager Faretto Our rhetoric Describes the Father as a light shining in the darkness. We’re taught to believe he guides us through our trials and tribulations, and speaks to us during our darkest hours. To this, I find myself conflicted of late. When conflicted with situations that manage to pull all of our emotions out of ourselves, when the blood boils to act and the mind grasps at any and all ideals to act upon, the Father’s voice is there to help guide us, right? If so, it is then a matter of discerning which voice that rages in our heads is the Father’s. It’s here that I find myself conflicted. In my attempt to better understand the Father’s will, I thought to myself logically on what each voice demands of your when confronted with sorrows and other unfortunate circumstances. There’s a voice of your better self, dictating that one should try to behave rationally, and to attempt to reason your way through these times. There’s the voice that dictates that you should stop and wait, contemplating that with caution, one would find a route that satisfies all parties. Then there’s another voice entirely that begs to differ on all accounts, and demands that you stop thinking and react – and that you react immediately. There may be other, more complex voices that will speak unto someone, but I’ve ascertained that these three are the most basic and are the most prevalent in any situation. I then tried to determine the specific origin of these voices. Of the first and second, I could only assume it is based on morals and ideals instilled to us from early ages by our societies. These ideals and morals, in the first voice, rationalize that people ought to get along, and that you cannot shake anyone’s hand if your fists are clenched. Reasonable and sensible. On the second voice, I can pull from the scholarly perspective. Thinking about a way to act can often lead to the best solution, but in some cases those who wait will find themselves involuntarily stripped of the chance to do anything at all. The third, however, I could not find an origin to. Comparing and contrasting the inner self, I managed to discern that of the three voices, the third is also the most powerful, and that it is full of passion. This intrigued me, because it is also typically the most inherently self-destructive. I’ve also found that this third voice shares the most similarities from person to person, whereas the first two will differ depending on one’s social background, upbringing, and their level of intellect. Of the three, it also seems like the third is the one that holds most effect over the body. If you’ve ever been in these situations, you know what I mean. It becomes hard to control your volume or what you say, your back feels like its burning or freezing, your muscles clench. It is often the other two voices that have to reign you in from this position, and it is never an easy task. But I digress from the question: Which voice is our guiding light? Which one is the All-Father speaking to us? I contend that it may be this third voice. It seems to meet all the rhetoric about bravery and passion. In addition, it has no clear-defined origin and seems to be universal and relatively unchanged from person to person. What conflicts me is that this voice does not match up with our idea of self-preservation and temperance, and is inherently violent and self-destructive. To this, I also contend that perhaps we are viewing these ideals from the wrong perspective. What is self-preservation and temperance in the wider scope of the Father’s view? It could mean what we interpret them as, but it may be more broadly defined and less specific when viewed through the perspective of one who must watch over humanity as a whole. Temperance in this broader sense may be to direct this action towards the appropriate parties and to spare those who do not deserve it. Self-preservation may be referring to us as a race instead of us as individuals. The third voice urges us to fight, to love, and to mindlessly protect. It also urges us to mindlessly indulge, to destroy, and to discover. Let’s grant the notion and say what I think is true, and that the Father is not a being of order and purity, but one of chaos. What does this mean for humanity? I say it doesn’t change anything, really. Our cooperation and our lives are marked by our judgement and reasoning, and in this we find security and social order. However, through our violence, through our lusting, and through our merriment we find substance; our lives are given meaning and we are given content. Perhaps we are to act on our impulses more. Throughout my personal travels, I’ve never felt more alive than when following these urges, even if it meant that I may die. After all, life is not without danger, and actions are seldom without consequence. Ride the tides of the uncertain, and find our flaming lord upon the shores of chaos.
  11. The Mark of Faith An Essay on Tattoos and Markings On the Significance of Materials Used On the Significance of Placement – Body On the Significance of Placement – Homestead Disclaimer Due to the variation of cultures and backgrounds within Morsgradic culture, this is by no means a reflection of the significance of tattoos within the Morsgradic people. This essay is aimed specifically at tattoos given within the Red Faith, having its roots solely within the Norlandic people. This essay is by no means a complete guide, and as all things in this world are subject to change. If there are any questions or comments regarding this missive, I am always available to answer them. Writ av Jager Faretto
  12. Jager sat at the edge of the icy waters surrounding Morsgrad, with his father’s flamebrand planted into the rocky shores at his side and fishing rod in hand. A chilled breeze would make the flamebrand wither and falter for just a moment, and Jager would look up to it for a moment to see the winds die and the fire replenish. “If only people could persist so easily in a world that stops at nothing to snuff it out.” He sighed to himself, turning his focus back onto the waters. He thought briefly of Edyth, who had survived much harsh treatment at the hands of her kinsfolk and still managed to smile. He hoped she was happy, wherever she was. She deserved to be happy. He would never know of her ultimate fate, an Ash amongst the pines.
  13. Today had been a breakthrough. There had been many thoughts through Tyr Faretto’s mind throughout the years he had whilst walking in the realms of men and elves. Looking through his narrowed scope of reality, he had grasped so long for a deeper meaning; for some type of greater purpose. He had tried to search as many paths as he could to find himself, but was met with only ashes and despair. In retrospect, he referred to his life as a daze of sleepwalking – never truly feeling like he was aware of his surroundings. A steady stream of going through the motions, as it were. The only thing that ever felt like something somewhat reminiscent of a higher calling lay with the Hearthfires he had labored so long to uphold and maintain during his journeys. Those as well, however, he had also raged against behind the closed doors of his mind. Many thoughts, indeed. Heresy, Ashen and Anathema thrashed about in his head betwixt his own thoughts like trapped and cornered animals, frantically searching for some way out. People he once called dear friends and people he once grieved deeply for their loss were damned in his heart and spat upon in his ramblings. Ideals and morals were trampled by the fervor of his own wants and needs. His tormentors were his own hands, tearing away at himself... Until he was only but bloodied ribbons and scraps of a world long forgotten by most. But then he came to, caught exploring the jagged peaks of his mind. He was alone in the tavern, the parchment laid out before him. Solvi had closed down some hours before, leaving Tyr to himself. The writ was addressed only to her, but held some key bits of text for everyone – Godric, Thora, Sigurd, Chadmyr, Jager, and anyone else who would be willing to read it. He sighed to himself, crumpling the note and throwing it into the fires. Everyone was so cold and impersonal these days, even Solvi. She had once been the one thing that had kept him going, and now they were hardly on speaking terms. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t blame anyone. He had done a lot of this to himself, disappearing for fifteen years and then intruding on the lives they’ve set up without him. Besides, he didn’t feel the need to justify himself to anyone anymore. His actions were always his own, and they were almost always met with some kind of resistance. Heresy originates in the mind and is spawned from the tongue and through the fingertips. He hadn’t struck another of the Father’s children in anger. He hadn’t renounced any in the light of his holy embrace... But in his heart how he cursed them all. How his spirit and every fiber of his being longed for them all to suffer. Not all at once, mind you, but each in their own respective turn throughout the long years he spent trapped in his own head. He got up from his spot, dragging his flamebrand behind him like a child with his favorite toy. He made his way out into the street, and before long found himself before the Ash Tree. The Ash Tree was once a prominent symbol within the Faith, for every kingdom that shared the Faith owned one. The fires danced from the branches, turning to cold embers before they ever touched the water and cobbled streets below. He could recall a time the Ashwood was more important than the Hearth – for the fires betwixt the indestructible bark and wood were also from the Father... Though he had his doubts about any fires being holy from time to time. He also recalled the regarding of heresy from his oldest mentor. He remembered that to purify one’s soul was done in two steps, as necessary... And it was certainly necessary, for he had thought, spoken and done very impure and heretical things – most he would never tell anyone for as long as he lived. He had done the first step, as all children of the Father have. He worshiped and held faith with the Father and his paragons. He chuckled to himself, thinking that he was once the High Keeper. The High Keeper... To only fall so low. The second part was for the children who had since recognizing the Father turned away fro his guiding light. They had seen and known truth and deliberately disobeyed. These misdeeds were only redeemable by the Father’s Mercy, though he couldn’t seem to recall the last time it was practiced. The wicked were burned alive, so that whatever impurities they had would be turned to ash with their mortal bodies so that their spirit may be unburdened when they approached the Father. He had tormented himself for far too long, enticing himself with the ideals and thoughts of one too impure to carry a sacred flamebrand, let alone be the High Keeper. Previous attempts at repentance were petty and were rewarded with vanity. He touched his left eye, feeling the smooth surface of the polished aurum sphere that now sat in its place. He was damned, and he was wicked... But maybe he was redeemable. He approached the tree. The Ashwood’s sap was famed for being very thick, sugary and flammable. It was used for a great many things in its time, but was now mainly used to distill spirits and to stoke the fires in the flambrands that were carried by brothers of the Hearth. Tyr ran a hand down the bark, collecting a sizeable amount. He nestled his flamebrand amongst the roots and sat down, beginning the arduous process of marking himself. He made marks in ancient Norlandic across his body and robes, making a short chronicle of the things he had done. He jotted down his apologies to his family, country and faith who all had to either struggle or die without his help. The process took longer than expected, and it was the wee hours of the night by the time he was done. He looked to the moon for the last time. All his life, he had been blindly following his own desires. He hoped that his final act as a man would be to do what is right instead. He held his hand over the open flame of his flamebrand, the fires licking his fingers and shooting up his arm, following the sappy trail he had made for it. In the blink of an eye, he was engulfed entirely. He had made romantic thoughts before of not screaming in pain and staying perfectly still while he payed his penance... But the holy fire of the Father seemed to brand his very soul. He screamed and yelled in the midst of the agony, the flames creeping down into his lungs with every breath he gasped to make. He twitched and shook violently, taking ever ounce of what little restraint he had to keep from falling over. He probably woke up several Morsgrad denizens in his little stunt. Any attempts to extinguish him would’ve failed – the sap would’ve made sure of that. Once it got hot enough, it’d get runny and act like oil to any water or blankets attempting to snuff it. Tyr writhed in horrible pain, hoping all his suffering would repent his lifetime of wrongdoings. His last thoughts were of the people he was joining –loved ones who had long since parted this world, and people he’d never met. He thought of the people he was leaving behind, though he knew in his heart long ago that this new world didn’t need old men like him. He breathed his last upon the roots of the Ash Tree in a swirling inferno... A monument to all he ever truly loved.
  15. Tyr would read Rosalia’s words with much enthusiasm. He found it very exciting to see the newer generation taking such an interest in the Faith’s practices. As his eyes scanned over the last line he exclaimed, “Older priests? I’m old as the hills and twice as dusty! I can answer this!” He quickly got out his ink and pen and poised himself to belt out a reply for the youngster... Then he stopped. Despite his disagreement with what she suggested, her evidences were ripe with nuggets of truth and validity. He took a deep breath, and began to write. Marriage has existed in the Red Faith for quite some time. I understand that Morsgrad is a different beast than Norland, but I challenge you to attempt to look at the concept from a Norlandic frame of reference. In the days of Seahelm, everyone was first and foremost a warfighter. That included every man and woman, regardless of what life they had before coming to Norland. When people had decided to marry, it was not a rite to fornicate nor was it a token of legitimacy, as Canonism would suggest. My wife, the High Keeper, suggested in her writ that it’s a commitment the people make to one another to keep them in the light of the Father and to keep them safe. I personally believe that marriage is a pact one makes with the All-Father to put aside their goals and aspirations as individuals to focus instead on the homestead and the care of children. I think this makes the most sense in terms of how it applied to Norlandic life and how it has endured to the modern day. I would compromise that Canonist influence might be the reason why we place so much emphasis on the monogamous and sacred aspects of marriage, which would lead to such acts of senseless violence and murder as what you’ve cited. If you have counterpoints, or any questions in general, my door and messaging post are always open. Signed, Tyr Faretto
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