LeoRabbit99

THE DOMINION SHALL ******* FALL SOON!!!

I’m sorry, but I cannot forgive you for this comrade. ? (Take care of what you need to do)

Advertisements upon sheets of parchment are pinned to notification boards among densely populated cities, including places alike Haense, Holm, Renatus, and Sutica. The Nourishing Elixir Citizens of your respected cities, this advertisement is on behalf of the potion store, the Nourishing Elixir, run by master alchemist Richard Baruch. For a low-cost price, you may have almost any of your alchemical needs serviced to you. You can either visit the shop to buy potions directly, or send a letter via bird or courier to arrange an order. Although we may not have it in stock, upon request, we can have a personal order brewed and delivered. The majority of more powerful potions, like alchemist's fire and greater elixirs, will not be in stock, and will only be brewed upon request. You may find the store in Sutica near the front gate, addressed Royal Stall 1 to the left. If you do not wish to travel to Sutica, and would like your purchase delivered to you, you may send a letter to the store’s address. The Nourishing Elixir sells many different potions on hand, including replenishing potions, enhancing elixirs, combat draughts, oils, household concoctions, and more. OOC: I will be updating this frequently as changes are made, and will be using this as a main thread for the store, so please don’t remove this post into the archives until I have either been offline for quite some time, or until I’ve been talked to.

I skimmed over it, but the concept of it is cool.

I like my tech where it is, thanks. You probably put a fair amount of work into this, and I respect that. Tbh, my biggest issue is this being some super ass common thing. Sure right now it'll be limited to the guild, but in the future it definitely could turn out to be a common thing. I don't want lotc to turn final fantasy themed. Again I can deal with it if there's a way to make it very hard to access how to do this

I’ve read your posts, and I think you have a routine of writing things based on everyone having an ultimate goal of achieving this “great power.” I respectfully disagree, and feel characters, like yours, can be more fleshed out. This is better than your other posts I think, because it more details the mental burdens your character is having, rather than being the “epic” character shooting for power, though I still think it can be improved. It comes down to why I believe Marvel is better than DC. While DC has aspects I like, I feel Marvel takes the cake because the stories aren’t always solely based on some legendary battle or artifact of power, rather the struggles the characters have as heroes. I loathe characters like Superman because they’re boring and smash heavy, and I much prefer characters like John Constantine, Punisher, or Spiderman, who all have an internal struggle as characters beyond their hero identities. In LotC, the best way to understand this is looking at the magic and supernatural elements as the setting, and an aspect of the game, rather than the plot. The plot should be what your character is going through psychologically, physically, etc, rather than grabbing for power. Having a character instantly jump to t5 magic is just boring. A lot of the enjoyment of magic in LotC is progressing in it slowly, and developing your character as you do so. I wasn’t going to respond in any criticizing way to your posts, but I was a complete edge lord once, and while I like your enthusiasm to write, I feel like I can help out. I have sympathy for you, and I feel like people are giving you too much ****, instead of trying to help a newer player nourish. I want to teach you what I’ve learned in writing and storytelling with my time here. My discord is LeoRabbit99#2143, and feel free to message me. If you don’t want to, don’t feel obligated, but I wanna help out if I can. In the end, if you’re having a good time, stick with what you’re doing. It’s only a game, after all. @TheDragonsRoost

Do you regret taking lead of Sutica?

You have my support. I hope something like nexus comes back.

Spoopy

A man neared the bank of the island’s crashing waves on his one-man row boat, the warm thick air bearing down heavily on his weak fatigued shoulders. He lifted his right palm to brush off the leaking sweat from his forehead, using his opposing hand to shield his eyes from the smoldering sun as he peered to the large island. On it was a lush jungle, rich with the chaotic calls of nature. Mischievous monkeys roared in the trees, exotic birds called out into the canopy, and busy insects croaked as they roamed the endless sea of trees. It was Richard, yet he was not his whole self--weariness from travel was the least of his troubles. He was ill, malnourished, and an inch away from death. Every second his body tore and ripped itself apart from starvation. His very essence poured out of him like the deepest of wounds, and it emptied faster as time went on. Only, the wound was not of the flesh, but of his soul. Richard’s creaky boat slammed ashore, and he stepped out into the open ocean-side. With dragging steps forward, his old leather boots grinded softly as they smacked into the loose sand. Swiftly, he tied his small vessel to a nearby palm tree with some hempen rope. Upon finishing the knot, his body finally gave in for a brief pause of rest. He dropped to his back on the beach floor, slowly crawling to some shade. He tore his brown button-up shirt off his chest, the cloth peeling away with the sweat. With heavy pants for breath, he outstretched his arms and legs--and there he remained, his eyes watching as the seagulls soared through the sky, his eyes slipping from focus as his thoughts began to ponder. His mind began to think of his years of as a Morghuul. So much rage, so much pain--indeed a very dangerous combination for any man to bear. He thought of all the damage he had caused--the suffering of his people he had inflicted, the execution of his best friend he had carried out, and the pain of his wife that he had caused, who fled in her grief, never to be seen by another again. Maybe she died...or worst. After his frenzy, he was drained of resources. He was tired, yet no rest would come to him. He could not feel anything but the endless craving to feed and the ever consuming rot creeping from all sides of his skin. He would’ve given up, but it wasn’t an option--not even the sweet release of death could put an end to his dreary soul’s misery. Yet, after two decades, a familiar face decided to come forth from hiding and reveal himself once more--Orsul. With that, everything went dark, but when he awoke, isolated in the forest, he was alive again--like that. His skin was lively and his hair was thick. He could again taste the pollen of the air and smell the the sweetness of the wildlife. He could feel again. Richard buried the back of his head into the sand. He didn’t deserve his salvation, and he knew it. But, like the rest of mankind, he was selfish. All he could do was mourn at what he caused, and his burden would be to live with it to his dying breath. It was now night time, and he was exhausted and starving--and not of food, but of the quintessential that his body gorged out by the second from his ever-consuming darkhollow. What was a brief break turned into a full night's sleep. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and there he fell into a slumber. He awoke late that morning to the thundering sounds of the jungle. He looked to the trees with an envy--so lively, so rich, so full of life. He sipped at one of his animal skins, which had been filled with blood lotus soup. He then took a nimble sip of his freezing salve, although he knew he’d have to conserve it for the rest of his journey. With that, he kicked off into the forest, wrapping his brown button-up around his waist. He scoured the jungle, yet his mind concerned itself elsewhere. He was in his old home, Sutica, roaming aimlessly through the thick streets of the busy trade city. It was foreign, yet nostalgic, all at once. He continued to wander, his feet eventually taking him to the outskirts of the city--and there, he found a face he was looking for. The face was too familiar to forget, yet he could never have prepared for that moment. He was petrified. His stomach sulked and his form stiffened. What should he say, how would she react? It was one he use to know during his time in Sutica, yet the elven women had since grown in his absence. Once just a guard of the Crulean Watch like him, now she held the title of Trade Princess of Sutica. It was Cyrene, who Richard had let loose one of his monstrosities onto that killed and injured many of her citizens--Cyrene, who he had once met blades with as a morghuul. She did not see him yet. She was laid flat on her back, looking up to the sky under the grave of the man that once carved out Richard’s left eye, her husband. He strolled through the jungle, taking a seat on a trunk twisted in a manner in that it fashioned a chair. He caught his breath, swatting at the bugs that buzzed about his head and scratching his itchy bare chest, now soar with scratches and cuts. He took a large swallow of his water and a smaller one of his freezing salve, which would only last him the rest of the day. With a sigh, he leaned forward and dropped his head down, his left arm holding it up as a pillar based from his knee. Something clawed at him from the inside--a dilemma. In Sutica, Richard had thought Cyrene would have hung him for his crimes, yet he was forgiven and accepted back with a warm embrace. Although many of Sutica’s inhabitants disapproved of her decision, he was even given an opportunity of redemption. But, what they were heedless to was his continued ties to the necromantic overlord. A year after his restoration, a letter was sent to him by a crimson carrion, its eyes illuminating with a cold blue flame. It was Orsul, and he called for Richard’s presence. He knew it would anger the lich if he were to refuse his summons. He made for the north with haste on his steed. When he reached his destination, he saw his master near a grave, performing one of his dark sacraments on another unfortunate soul who reached out of the soil and crawled his way out. Another man, like Richard, now under the lich lord’s servitude. On that day, Richard’s darkhollow was formed. The experience was like no other. It was painful, yet afterward, he could feel the vast waves of life that surrounded him. He felt it radiate off the grass, the trees, and even the worms that squirmed aimlessly through the soil. It was everywhere--overwhelming, yet beautiful. However from that day, Richard’s well-being slowly regressed from the wounds inflicted by his darkhollow. It ate away at his life force--the very energy that keeps every man going. Soon, even the most simple of tasks proved to be troublesome chores. He was tired and hungry--a feeling he knew all too well. Yet this time, it would not be fulfilled in the slightest. He craved for the quintessential, yet it would not come for some time. Months after they met, nearly a year in fact, Richard finally received word from his master, who would end Richard’s hunger. He would meet him at Coral Peak, an island off the coast of Haelun’or. Richard decided to continue his search in the jungle. He was hardly able to stand now, despite his lengthy rest. He knew he needed to find Orsul before sundown, or else the jungle's night might prove the end of him. For hours he wandered, his drained fatigued legs beginning to yield to their longing to drop. He walked through ancient ruins, found old journals written by the monks, yet his bekoner eluded him. He didn’t want to work for him, and he didn’t want to be near him--but what choice did he have? To Richard, it felt as if betraying the creature would be a death sentence for all those he ever loved or a ticket back to his old life--or more likely, both. No more would people die by his hands--directly, indirectly, or otherwise--and he wouldn’t go back to to undeath. He refused it. Not much frightened the aged man anymore--he had seen a lot over his lifetime, yet the thoughts of what could happen utterly panicked him. All he yearned for now was the starvation to cease. The day was nearing its end. Most of the creatures began to bed down as the early nocturnal animals took over. Only the sun’s upper half was over the horizon--and the light of the forest began to dim. Desperate, Richard began to call out for his master’s name. No response. He charged around the trees with all the energy he could muster. He was lost, and the last light was almost upon him. He continued to call before finally he tripped over on a root, stumbling on his face. He pushed himself to all fours, wiping the mud off the bridge of his nose. He glanced up at a small opening of the canopy, watching as the concluding light faded. All seemed lost. But then, he heard a sharp whisper over him. “Mrghm, Aye m' lad.” And from the trees slipped into view a figure--Orsul. "You Look famished, my boy." The elder stated, dragging himself forward as he peered Richard down. The Lich tilted his head this way and that as either grasp came behind his back. "Out of all places..." He replied, beginning to make a gradual approach to Orsul. As the two conversed, Richard’s focus was dead set on quelling the raging hunger within, and nothing would divert him from that. His ears listened with complete inquiry. "A place so lush, seeping with life force..can you feel it?" Orsul questioned. “I...I can feel it.” Richard answered, a hint of envy in his eyes--practically drooling on himself. He was prepared. “Come my pupil, it is time to feast.” The two made their way up to the highest point of the island, the lich explaining in detail the craft of drawing life from an object with his newfound gift. They both laid eyes to a bush, and Orsul spoke out. "You can practically...taste it, so green...so full of quintessence. A vessel-- empty it, Richard.” After uncovering his hand from his glove, Richard gently grazed the plant with his fading flesh. His gluttonous eyes locked to the bush, and black tendrils from his digits creeped forward to fasten themselves at the leaves. They latched, and so began the draining of the plant. With each moment, Richard’s posture grew stronger. His chest pumped forth as his shoulders hunched over with a predatory posture. He began to breathe intensely as he empowered his soul, sucking the plant dry of all life. It pumped through him, but finally the tendrils connection severed, leaving it crispy and brown. Richard knew this feeling all to well. A subtle growl escaped his grimace. “More…” "Restore yourself, Richard--go, into the jungle with you.” He wanted to stop, but the urge was ruthless. With a primalistic expression, Richard stampeded down the hill--off into the moonlit jungle to completely revive himself to his former strength. OOC: This is not common knowledge.

This is a very slippery slope. If we were to remove everything that could be taken offensive, there would be a lot of annoyance and a lot of things removed.

Lmao just my luck. 12-7 is literally the exact time I can't be on. I would like this too.

"The struggles in this wide world are plentiful, especially for a small band of people trying to find their place in it without many allies. I wish you luck." says a former councilor of a ravaged city-state.

((Creative))

I just liked that people got to choose their profession. As long as people can't choose every profession to be theirs, I'm cool with p much any system tbh.

I'm all for some kinda crafting plugin, like nexus, in which players choose their profession, and in which some professions rely on others. +1

Your full name: Richard Well Baruch Race: Human Heartlander Age: 77 Past military experience: Cerulean Watch in Axios Magics (optional): Water Evocation, Life Evocation Anything else you'd like to say: I only hope I may repay the damage I've done with my services. My sword and skills are yours. ((OOC)) Discord username and # (required): LeoRabbit99#2143 Username: LeoRabbit99 Timezone: cst Age (optional): 19

Effect with druids, the combat feature, among a few other things for further clarification. I believe that they together will make chimeras more fun to play after they're made. I was told this was an issue and was the reason why they were shelved in the first place, which is why I rewrote it with these things implemented. My generally goal was to A, solve this issue, and B, give more clarification to not only the essence of life, but define a few things more thoroughly. Edit: Also thanks

Introduction “Let me explain to you what it means to be a true alchemist, pupil. An alchemist hungers for success. They’re eager for it. Where others draw boundaries for victory, a true alchemist will stop at nothing to succeed. No scar is too big, and no sacrifice is too great. You will find the deeper you delve into alchemy, the more your values will be called into question. How far are you willing to push those boundaries? Tread carefully, young apprentice, or else you may lose yourself, as many have before you.” -Teacher to student Since the discovery of symbols and the weaving of their manifestations, mankind has since enjoyed bending nature to their intentions with a craft known to many as alchemy. Men tend to find something appealing in twisting what surrounds them. It is a custom that finds its way into the hearts of many descendants, be it used for good or evil. But in aspiration, atonements must always be made. Gain must be “fueled” by loss. Value must be traded with equal and alternative value. Everything has a price, and the bill always comes due. Such is the theory of equivalent exchange--a core concept that administers a foundation to alchemy. Many have been driven into madness from this phenomenon, sacrificing even their humanity to enact their pursuits. Some may be noble of heart, and some may possess a heart of stone, but nonetheless, where powerful ambition exists, desperate means may follow. And where desperate means exists, monsters are created--and in the case of alchemy, sometimes quite literally. Many have heard tales of the mysterious homunculus, and many less of the fabled “klones” of descendants, but neither strike fear into the hearts of men with viciousness and savagery as the terrifying chimera do. It is only those who truly work so low that would be willing to create such a calamity--a spit in nature's face. A monstrous chimera that attacked Haense in 1672 Creatures of Chaos: Chimeras Chimeras are creations of only the most daring of alchemists who wish to push the limits of nature into something truly destructive. They are creatures of chaos incarnate--two or three unfortunate animals fused together into a single entity in a metamorphosis. They are melded together in body, mind, and soul, their very existence a life of instability. Types Chimeras are classified in two different ways. First, there are descendant chimeras and bestial chimeras. Descendant chimeras are joined together with at least one descendant and can only be fused with one other creature of the creator’s leisure. They are typically less hostile than bestial chimeras, but are still far more mentally unstable than most normal descendants. Bestial chimeras are solely fused with animals, and three subjects can be fused at a time. The other type of classification includes the following: aerial chimeras, aquatic chimeras, and terran chimeras--aerial chimeras having the capability to fly, aquatic animals being chimeras of water, and terran chimeras being land-dwelling, and also being the most common. Physical Characteristics Concerning their physical attributes, the first feature to consider is their lifespan. For many years, chimeras have lived short lives because of their acquired instability. Recently, a way to evade this condition has been discovered. Because of this discovery, they may live up to the mean of both/all the creatures’ ages they were fused with. When you create a chimera, it will be no pretty sight. They will have traits accumulated from both/all the creatures participated in the metamorphosis, usually emerging warped. This includes corrosion where the skin fused, patches fur, crooked teeth, and many other kinds of disfigurements. When a chimera is created, it will possess all the appendages previously owned by the original animals. For instance, a large spider fused with a small bird would keep all eight legs, two wings, and at least one head. It is not completely unknown for a chimera to have more than one head, however it is a common misconception that all chimeras have this trait. This is typically a very rare occurrence. Finally, if not evident from their physical appearance, chimeras cannot procreate. Their warped bodies simply aren’t compatible with each other, thus lose reproductive abilities State of Mind and Soul Another element to consider in examination of chimeras is their psyche. This includes the condition of their mental fluctuation and soul. in regards their state of mind, there are a few things to consider. When you meld two or three creatures together, their very consciousness melds into one. Their thoughts and feelings, once secret, are now shared--deprived of their privacy. This can be maddening, especially in the beginning to newly created chimeras. Primarily because of this, they are known for their temper and will lash out for even the most minuscule of reasons. For this reason, it takes a very skilled trainer to “tame” a chimera, and it is near impossible to tame anything larger than a medium-sized dog. This is obviously not always the case, varying on circumstance to circumstance. For instant, despite it being larger, something fused with a horse will be easier to tame then something fused with an alligator, since horses are naturally more peaceful than alligators. When fusing an animal for a chimera, they can either be considered domesticated, prey, or predatory. Each has a different value of points, which ultimately determines if the chimera is tamable or not. Domesticated animals are equal to one point, prey are equal to two points, and predators are equal to three points. When you fuse the animals, find the sum of all the points. If it comes equal or less than three points, it may be tamed. If it is seven points or above, it will be a monster on a warpath, attacking whatever it sees. On account to their chaotic and maddening minds, it’s much more difficult to penetrate the mind of a chimera. Mental mages must take an extra emote to infiltrate the mind of a chimera with three or less points, two extra emotes with a chimera of four or five points, and three extra emotes If the chimera has six or seven points. If it has eight or nine points, it’s impossible for a mental mage to penetrate. Being creatures that completely go against the fundamentals of nature, an interesting relationship exists between chimeras and druids. If a druid were to communicate with a chimera, they would both enter a state of mental trauma and agonizing physical pain as both their souls hollered in misery. It is typically because of this that the two are constantly at odds--one being a keeper of nature and the other a twisted creature made from unnatural exploitation of science--two polar opposites. When a descendant chimera is made, in addition to being seen as monster in society, they also have an internal struggle to quell their bestial side--always prying to take control and make actions of instincts. Often it takes years, decades even, for a descendant chimera to get a mantle on their animalistic half. It is never truly sated, however, thus descendant chimeras typically avoid distress to keep it concealed. However, if one were to find themselves in combat, they would be put at risk. Once combat is initiated by either side, the chimera player rolls a d20. If they roll a five or below, then they will lose control, attacking everyone in sight. They will also get a small increase in speed/strength, equivalent to as if one drunk a lesser potion of strength, a lesser potion of celerity, and a lesser potion of acuity at once. Clerics with the spell to pacify have a very potent effect on frenzied chimeras, able to tranquilize most chimeras very efficiently. Other magic that quells, such as an enchanted necklace of sensory illusion, can aid a descendant chimera in keeping control, reducing the roll to frenzy from five and below to three and below. Creation The creation of chimeras is a long and complicated process, requiring extensive research and repetitive trial and error. A player must make a FA application to learn. Although it is far easier to acquire the skill through direct instruction of a teacher, it is possible for an individual to teach him or herself, but at double the time. It will take one in real life month for a character to master the craft with a teacher and two in real life months to master the craft without one. Choosing Creatures Before an alchemist can create one of these monstrosities, they must first obtain two or three creatures to fuse. There are several prospects they must keep consistent, lest they wish their creation to die upon success. Both/all the creatures must be of the same gender, both/all the creatures must have the same type of digestive tract (carnivores and herbivores cannot be fused; omnivores can fuse with both but their diet is narrowed purely to the diet of the other creature(s) unless they were fused with another/other omnivore(s)), and both/all the creatures must have the same respiratory tract (air-breathers and water-breathers cannot be fused). The creature must also be similar in size. For instance, while a wolf may be able to be fused with a cougar, it is not compatible with a house cat. The Process The creation of chimeras is an elaborate process and must be perfectly conducted to the letter. The main ingredient to create chimeras is a substance known as the essence of life. A pool of essence of life This solvent is soul soluble, meaning it has the properties to dissolve the soul of creatures. The substance, however, cannot dissolve the souls of living subjects since they are too attached to their vessels. For this reason, they must be exterminated and quickly brought through the process of metamorphosis as the soul is departing the body. It is also because of this that creating chimeras is a risky procedure. In the likely outcome of failure of an inexperienced individual, the alchemist could kill both/all the creatures for nothing. It is almost guaranteed that a new practitioner will fail, usually requiring the deaths of a few creatures to practice their skill until they’re good enough to succeed. Because of this, chimera creation is often looked down upon and perceived as a dark craft. Essence of life is created with liquid mana and several powerful symbols of life. Although it is occasionally used for the evil deed of creating chimeras, essence of life also has rejuvenating properties as well as spiritual bonding properties. If one bathed in it for over five minutes, they would find all their current wounds sealing up and scars beginning to heal. This is not to say that it’s as potent as a potion of regeneration in that it could heal entire severed limbs, but for those who have access to one, it can often provide a better alternative to a greater potion of healing. It also helps illness to some extent, although not completely. As for its bonding properties, if two individuals were placed together in it, they would feel an incredible sense of compassion for the other sitting within. Tribal cultures have often used this to spiritually connect with their brothers and sisters for a short time, and newly married couples have used this ceremonially to become closer with each other. Once the creatures wished to be fused are slain, they should immediately be placed into a vat of the solvent twice the size of all the creatures being fused together so that they may be spread out evenly with some space in between. Along with that, several powerful symbols of balance, rebirth, fluidity, warmth, steadiness, perseverance, and dependency should be mixed in. This part of the procedure can be very difficult when attempting to pinpoint the precise dosages to compensate for the sizes of the creature, which is the main reason for a low success rate for new practitioners of the craft. Once all the ingredients are in, the alchemist must stir everything, the time varying on the size and number of the creatures. They will slowly move closer to each other, their flesh and soul molding and binding together. When it's complete, it will lay in hibernation for the first day as it rejuvenates. When it wakes, its old life is left behind and made anew...in the form of a chimera.

Art to my eyes

I really need a break. I've been slammed with school, work, and other stuff. I don't want to get cornered like I did last year because of LotC. Figured I'd make this post to make it official. During my last break, I was really able to get things accomplished. I learned that it's important to take them in time-consuming hobbies such as this. I should be back in a month or two, maybe three. I don't really know at this point. I'll be leaving all the discord chats for now and will rejoin them whenever. Good luck, and farewell for now fellow RPers.

To those who knew him, word gets out of the death of Giles Curthose. A well-built man--about 35 years of age--stood upon the frayed ramparts of Halsworthy near the western gate. He peered off into the distance, the sun just beginning to set over the frosty-spruce horizon. He was attired in the finest forged armors the city had to offer. He looked to his stallion below and it remained bound to a lamp post with a lead, saddled and prepared for its rider. Giles looked back up. Once more, he was called to arms by the Winter Frontier to defend the south from the unknown enemy from beyond the wall. They marched to lay siege to the Temple of Xion, but he was hesitant. Surely it was not because he was nervous of warfare. Giles was a warrior--not the most skilled swordsman of the land, but he trained to fight ever since the small age of ten. He was reckless and charged headfirst into the fray. He ran down yetis, mounted the shoulder of a molten giant, fought in battles greatly scaled against him, and somehow survived it all. No, it was not because he was afraid of a fight. Giles remembered when he moved to Norland at the young age of seventeen to fight against Renatus, who was responsible for sacking his city. In the years before, he came to admire Norland. Out of all the nations of Atlas, they were the ones who stood up to the villainy of Renatus. He was honored to fight by them. But when he arrived, he came to realize their malevolence. They raided, bandited innocents, and executed unjustly. They were merciless. He came there for a purpose, a noble goal, not to abuse the helpless. It wasn’t long before he chose to abandon the Norland army and return to Halsworthy. They would see him as a deserter and hunt him down, but he cared not. Perhaps the boy was foolish, but his honor was unquestionable. He was tired of serving them and would not participate in their atrocities. It was time to journey home--back to his family, back to his friends, back where he belonged. He could taste the sweet air of home as he approached the border of Halsworthy--but he was intercepted. He was snatched by Norlanders and put to labor in a mine. Five years he endured, his desire to return to his people only strengthening. Day after day, he longed for freedom. When Norland was conquered by Renatus, Giles finally made his escape. Even afterward, he hadn’t found his way back to Halsworthy until he was 32. For almost 10 years, he scraped by in Sutica to live. It was an endless fight for him. His thoughts came back to the present. He watched as troops marched off to battle, but he remained. He would not leave his home again--not yet. He was tired of his self-proclaimed crusade of “righteousness.” He was tired of serving. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of everything. His mind pondered. He could always retire. He could always stop fighting and find solace in a political position in his city. He could live happily with his love and unconcern himself with the pressures of war. Giles began to think of his youth. Why did he fight? Perhaps he had a better childhood than most, but he was no fool. He grew to understand the world’s sins. He saw awful things as a child--things he loathed to be helpless to. He remembered when his friend’s arm was butchered from a passerby from Haense who wanted to steal a horse. He remembered bandits ripping away his friend from her home. He remembered the slaughter of his people when the church “purged” his city. That day he saw dozens of people die, and vowed that regardless of his strength, regardless the odds, he’d never let villainy prevail--not while he drew breath. He thought back to the Temple of Xion. He had visited the temple once before as a child when it was ridden with undead. He didn’t leave town much, but it wasn’t too far off. When he was unsupervised, he and his friend snuck there. He remembered seeing lifeless corpses littered carelessly, people torn in half, and heads displayed ruthlessly on pikes. He couldn’t get it out of his head. People slain and disgraced--their shattered and soulless bodies shown to strike fear into others. Giles snapped. He was a boy no longer. He could not afford to be exhausted. He was a Curthose, and he was not raised to give in. “You are a Curthose...and a Curthose never gives up. Now, finish what you started.” The statement rung through his head. His older cousin told him such when he was very young. He could not let his people suffer, not again. No one would harm his people without first walking over his cold corpse. With resolve, he descended the wall and mounted his horse. The group was already ahead, beginning the battle. Giles would not miss it. He set on his helmet and galloped onward, its hooves knocking gravel about as they slammed into the path. Eventually, he made it to the base-camp the frontier had prepared for the assault. They allowed him entry, and he trotted in on his horse. He slid off his mount. Some people of Halsworthy filled him in as a wave of creatures approached, along with their leader. Giles had come just in time. He and some archers began to barrage the attackers with arrows. As their enemies drew near, they were shot dead. A few managed to breach the fortress, but they were quickly expunged. All seemed well until someone fell from the fortifications. He was met with a swift end, bleeding to his death on the snow. Giles would not stand by. Giles lowered a rope. Many of his people tried to stop him. “It’s no use! He’s done for!” They called. “Don’t risk your own life!” But it was against Giles’s nature. It was his duty to protect the helpless. He landed at the foot of the wall and bent over to rescue the fading soldier. Giles patched his wounds to the best of his ability, but he was never one of medicine. Despite his efforts, he was losing the man. He heaved him on his shoulder and made for the fortress, but the path was quickly blocked by foes. Enemies began to swarm, and death was becoming imminent. He fled from the battlefield but was pursued. The demon who led the forces charged for him. Giles was eventually knocked over, dropping the injured man to the ground. He watched as he fell lifeless in the snow. Giles had failed him. He looked to the commander, drawing his sword. This would be his last stand. If he was going to die, he would do so with honor. “By God’s Virtue!” he roared, and the weapon protruded with flames. The fire raged fiercly as he charged. They collided, but the fight was short lived. After all, what was Giles against a foe this powerful? He was left alone, dying in the snow. He thought of his people, he thought his fiance, and he thought of everyone he loved. He would not be returning to them but at least...at least he lived and died a good man, fighting the fight that needed to be fought until the end... _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Three possessions would be given out to the people closest to Giles. In his will, his sword is found on the path where he fled. "Virtue, Sword of House Curthose," would be given to Leofwine Curthose. May it serve him well, and may it bring honor to the house. While evicting his house, Luna Al'Abass would find Giles's old wooden toy sword when he was a child. May it preserve the good memories they had together when he was young. Two rings for Celaena Sylric that Giles was too late to propose with are found in his house. May it remind her of the unbreakable bond they shared.