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About JoelTheGinger

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  • Birthday 02/17/2000

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    Writing, RPing, and watching Game of Thrones episodes over and over!

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    Anna Pruvia | Maryia Ludovar | Helena Ithilher
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  1. Ludovar Lore Initiative: Part I “The Elk Prince” A folktale discovered and published by Lady Maryia Ludovar, 315 E.S. The tale of the valiant and tragic Elk Prince is one both uncommonly told among the denizens of cities, but spread about often in more rural circles. It starts with a young man, a Prince of Carrion, who ventured out into the dense forests one afternoon to hunt sport and game. An arrogant fellow, this Prince sought to bring home a grand prize, hoping to impress his father and fellow countrymen. He trekked for hours, limbs growing heavy as his bounty seemed to allude him. He came into a thicket, broad and peaceful, split down the center by a small stream. The Prince went to kneel aside this minute flow of water, bring cupped hands to collect the liquid and splash it upon his face. A glint of white caught his gaze, his blue eyes drifting up to behold a mighty white elf, horns glinting in the retreating sunlight like fine ivory. It seemed to watch him, a knowing to it’s great round eyes. The Prince smirked, for he had found his greatest prize. The elk stood still as the Carrion Prince rose from his knees, slinging his bow from his back and knocking a fresh arrow. They stared, elf to man, and for a moment, the Prince hesitated. How could he kill something so beautiful, so harmless? He shook his head fervently, letting loose the arrow. Hitting true, the elf fell, letting free a quiet cry and grunt as ichor began to stain the grass upon which it had landed. The Prince saw the walls of his family’s keep within view, a bag slung over his shoulder. Within it sat various selections of elk meat, along with the creature’s pristine horns. He desired to take rest and look over his bounty before venturing back into his home, thus he set down his sack and pulled it open. As he reached inside, he let out a grunt. He had cut himself on one of the antlers, leaving a sizable gash in his forearm. Cursing under the light of the rising moon, the Prince saw no point in dallying any longer, closing the bag in frustration. It was then, the farmers and hunters of yore say, that the Prince felt a lurch in his heart, or his very soul. A great pain overtook him, bringing him to his knees. He cried out, but all that came was an unfamiliar wail. His body, his bones and his muscle, began to morph and convulse and change. He was changing, becoming something else. The whistling of arrows soon caught the Prince’s attention, as he stirred from his delirious state. Guards were pouring from the portcullis, blades directed at where he stood. The Prince was in a panic, turning a running, running deep into the woods from whence he had came. He made his way swiftly, past tree and rocks, to find his way finally back in the safety of the thicket he had found. Panting and breathless, he made his way over to the stream, to collect himself. As his gaze met the water, his heart began to race. He saw the great white elk staring back up at him, it’s own eyes widened in disbelief. He watched it’s panicked breath, and the evident distress it held in its large form...and then he realized. He was the elk, and he had been looking upon himself. He heard a voice, carried on a light breeze. It spoke knowingly to the young Prince, but in great criticism and scorn. It said that the Prince had committed a mighty sin: the taking of an innocent life, and the killing of a creature of the wilds in cold blood. The great elk had saw great might in the Prince, and had only desired to observe his power. Alas, the Prince’s arrogance had slain the elk before it’s time. And now, for his punishment, the Prince of Carrion would take the elk’s place, to see his own world from the view of that in which he had killed, for eternity. Some say, in the height of spring, one can spot the great white elk in the deepest forests, a warden and watcher of Hanseti and Ruska. A warning to all those who would seek to distort the bountiful beauty of life and nature for the benefit of greed and power. Author’s Note: In the tradition of my family, I, Maryia Ludovar, am committed to the scholarly endeavors of my forefathers. With this publication, gathered and written after interviewing several elder working households within the crownlands of Hanseti & Ruska, I intend to release such hidden folklore and fairytales once per year, to grow our cultural understanding. If any individual has any tales to bring forth, please find me within the Ekaterinburg Palace. I would be pleased to meet and treat with you over a fine cup of tea. - Maryia Ludovar
  2. Miss you! Snap me sometime bro 💙

  3. JoelTheGinger


    Caer Durr’an, Barony of Greywater, Principality of Venerra, Aeldin A storm raged outside the walls of Caer Durr’an, the seat of House Warlai in the dense forests of Venerra. The sturdy keep boasted a small bailey, a stone square keep, and a great spiraling tower that stretched just above the tallest oaks that grew upward like weeds. Helena sat within the confined of her small chamber, eyes trained and focused on a book that was laid open before her. A sudden crack of lightening, like several that had come before, snapped up what little attention she had left. Maelstroms had always troubled her, just as so many things of violent nature had since her youth. Some affected her more than others, but it had become a fact of her life. A pale hand slid beneath the open cover, closing the tome for now. The girl stood slowly, rubbing tenderly at her brow as she paced to close the wooden shutter that spared her some of the annoyance she was suffering from. A maid arrived, small and plain and with big brown eyes. Helena offered her a warm smile, as she so often did with everyone she encountered. “The Baron is returned from his business in Stronghold. He has asked that the household eat with him tonight,” The maid offered. Helena hummed, nodding, “Tell him I will be right down.” The servant would scurry out, likely off to alert the rest of the baron’s family and attendants that he had arrived. Helena turned to the trunk that sat at the foot of her bed, making her way over to it. As she did another great CRACK boomed from outside, the girl grabbing her head and bracing a hand against the trunk’s weighted lid. She winced, groaning somewhat, as her sight was then covered in red streaks. Her head throbbed, her breathing hurried now. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the dark. Her room had vanish, Helena quickly shooting her gaze around for any sign of her reality. She looked ahead, and saw a figure, tall and lean, with tumbling red tresses and eyes the shade of a fresh ocean tide. It was herself. “You can’t hide from me forever,” Her mirror-self smirked, eyes glinting with mischief, “One day, you’ll have to face me.” Helena pursed her lips in anguish, shaking her head furiously, “N-No....you won’t! You won’t have me, you won’t make me your creature!” The doppelganger began to laugh, which evolved into a shrill shrieking, as loud as the storm that had pained her earlier. “Stop...stop laughing at me...” Helena whimpered. “ I am inevitable, my dear. One day...you’ll understand that we’re the same. You will cause hurt, or pain, and then it will begin.” The figure, the other Helena, would turn away from her, though maintained her gripping gaze on the girl until she had her back to Helena. The darkness would begin to whip about them, a voice echoing as Helena grasped at either arm, lowering herself to the floor. “I...I could never hurt anyone...anything...” She’d simper, whispering to herself almost in prayer. “You will change, Helena Goldenchild. And the day it begins, you shall not even realize it.” The voice would warp with the tumultuous winds, before it all faded into nothing. The Citadel of Aegrothond, Arcas, 1761 Helena ventured out to the streams that trickled in from the ocean, leaving the Citadel behind her for the morning. The air was always fresh with the scent of the saltwater breeze, with the fragrance of budding flowers and fresh leaves clinging to the branches of greater trees. The water flowed past as she neared the riverbank, lazy but persistent. She knelt down, allowing her palm to press against its surface, fingers breaking through and the coolness of the inlet washing over her hand. She allowed herself a deep inhale of breath, a fond smile pressing upon her lips. Bzzz, Helena heard somewhere near her, Bzzz bzzz. She maintained her attentions on the river, going to undo the laces of her walking boots and placing them aside. She’d gingerly dip her toes, then the entirety of both feet, into the river. The coldness of the flowing torrents calmed her further, another deep breath emitting itself from her mouth. Bzzzzt. The noise was by her ear now, a mosquito that had flown up from the reeds and puff mud nearby. Bzzzt bzzzt, she heard it again, almost taunting her. She attempted to ignore it, but it persisted, buzzing and flying around her. She felt her face getting hot, something she hadn’t felt since her days in Caer Durr’an. She felt...no warmth, or kindness. She felt angry. Her serenity had been intruded upon. It was a quick flash, hands whipping up from their place on the grass to vanquish the mosquito between their united palms. The buzzing fizzled out as Helena opened her hands once more, fingers splayed as she observed the deceased insect’s blood stained on her skin. She had only pondered it a mere moment...before relieving herself of it’s minute corpse in the river’s flow, washing herself free of the pest. For the rest of the morning, she would enjoy her time among nature with no further disturbance.
  4. Full Name: Maryia Ludovar Race: Human Occupation: Ward Interesting factoids: Potentially the smartest girl in Haense. Also, the most awkward girl in Haense. ((Discord)): (You have it!)
  5. The Princess of Pruvia, aiding in the beginnings of a en-mass tidying of the Varoche Palace, seems remiss at having missed the cultural author!
  6. This is just a post written to everyone on the server. Regardless of if we’re friends or not, or we’ve never met. If you hate my guts, or consider me a friend. To every human, elf, dwarf, orc, halfling player and every other player who still does roleplay here or has moved on since. It’s early in the morning for me, but I can’t sleep, so I felt like writing this note to the server. I appreciate every single one of you, for making this community a community. I have a compromised immune system. A lot of my family are over the age of 50. I live not far from one of the first counties in my state that started the spread of COVID-19. And I am scared. At first, back in early February, I said that the illness wouldn’t spread to much, that it might slow down once they began quarantines across China and around the city of Wuhan. I was wrong. So many were wrong, and used this falsehood as a way of comforting ourselves, as a way to cope with something that, to many in our generation, has never made a huge impact on our lives for the most part. As the weeks keep passing, I go from worrying that it will never truly end to being confident that it will. And that stresses me out even more. Tonight, I saw a lovely video about a nurse in New York state, working 16+ hours at the age of 60, her life put at risk to care for people she doesn’t even know. It brought me to tears. Her optimism during this critical time in America is just a bright light during so much darkness. My mother lives in NYC, and this gave me even the smallest tinge of hope that she will make it out of this unscathed. So, if we have been friends for years, or said negative things about eachother, or have never interacted at all, please know that I am so grateful and appreciative that you, as an idividual, have contributed to this community in some shape or form. Made friendships, told stories, and just helped to create a space to go during all of this madness in the world. For me, my true lifelines have been @Dasdi, @Starryy, @Gilded, @Eryane, and @axelu. Talking to them, almost daily, and roleplaying with them helps me to relieve some of that stress and worry, even if for a little bit. I think it is important to identify the people that have been roleplaying with you, talking to you in discord, or just done you a kindness recently. Let that person know what they mean to you, even as a response to this thread. Because at the end of the day, even if we never meet in person, we can’t lie and say that the bonds we build on Lord of the Craft don’t mean something to us, in some way. If you ever wanna just message me, be it to vent about worries or to just talk about your day, my discord is linked to the left. Everyone needs someone right now, and a lot of us can’t see our families and friends during this terrible time. I love all of you, and I love everything this community has given me. Stay safe, wash your hands, even play some Animal Crossing. See you tomorrow ❤️
  7. Maryia Ludovar ponders when the local journalist outlet would publish a small excerpt on her famous kinswoman, the Princess of Ulgaard, Emma Ludovar.
  8. Maryia Ludovar watches the execution from her tower window, face grim. “It is what they deserve, for their attempt at stealing away our future.”
  9. Anna Maria, who previously laughed at her uncle’s chronicle, nods firmly in agreement at the imperial decision. She grew tired of seeing so many people that looked so entirely similar to herself roaming the busy streets of Helena.
  10. The Princess of Pruvia wonders how much her baseborn uncle paid to have this propaganda composed, reading it aloud to Princess Lorena and her husband over dinner that evening.
  11. Maryia Ludovar hears words of the King’s survival from a passing maid, taking to her bedchamber afterward to relieve herself with a lengthy compendium, from the stress of the past few saint’s hours.
  12. Maryia Ludovar would receive her invitation with a small and humbled smile, planning to attend alongside her family and her guardian, Queen Maya.
  13. Emma Kovachev, Duchess of Carnatia, weeps from her spectral place in the Seven Skies.
  14. Anna Maria, having lived most of her life amidst the smog of war and disarray, allowed herself a heavy sigh of relief. Surely, the future was brighter now.
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