Werew0lf

give me a lich CA and ill do it rn

Remove pale knights lol

"... it is not enjoyable, my son, to birth a child who will inherit all that you create for them," The Emperor bid towards his son, Marcus, as they sat within his office. Hadrian's quill flicked through the parchment, having yet seen his grandson in person. "You will feel it rip through your soul; guilt -- to pass on your burdens onto your son. As though you run away from responsibility." "Let us hope your reign, and his reign thereafter is one that brings much fortune and joy to our Empire, and the continent itself. However, for now, it shall bathe in blood. All of this is for you, my son." @pkdon

“What my Holy Vicar says is true,” The Emperor advocated, staring at the numerous tools used in the rehabilitation torture of priests prisoners.

“Could you summarise this for me?” Hadrian issued the parchment to one of his knights. “Uh, let me see.” The imperial knight scanned the parchment. “You are evil, you need to be put down, feel sorry for your children, I hope you die. People of Azuras, rise up against the Empire…” “Oh, alright. The usual stuff, then?” The Emperor questioned. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty… - the usual stuff.” The knight responded.

The Emperor's hand clutched a small flask brewed with medicine--taking a quick swig, the distant sound of footsteps caused Hadrian to immediately cover the bottle under his jacket. A knight-squire entered the room, helm brushed beneath her arm-pit. "Your Imperial Majesty," she spoke solemnly. "Hm?" His singular eye shifted towards the squire, a faint smile placated his features, but evidently, it was drawn on; a false representation of joy. "Sir Abraham has fallen in battle," the squire's eyes flinched, was it sorrow, or the fear of his reaction? As quickly as his smile began, it promptly dropped to reveal his true emotions; his lips shrivelled, his veins prod from across his forehead, and his teeth tightened. ". . ." "Thank you for informing me, you are dismissed," The Emperor sway his hand; the squire did not wait any further, sprinting out from the room and closing the door behind her. Dipping his quill into a pot of ink, Hadrian brought forth a new parchment from his pile of hundreds, and started to write a letter addressed to someone.

“You have done well, Corswain. There can be no mercy for their people.” The Emperor lounged upon his throne, pointing down towards the imperial squire, soon to be dragon-knight.

“The fear,” The Emperor beamed, snapping his index-finger. “You make this worthwhile. I feel encouraged.”

I don’t like this because it doesn’t let you appear as a bird. That’s his whole shtick and you threw it out the window. Shame on you, Pallodium.

The Emperor’s hands clenched either side of his table, and his nails dug into the chipped wood. His singular eye fixated on the mirror — how ugly, Hadrian. You have grown weak, and now, hideous. If it wasn’t your personality, now, it also bears on your looks. His fingers grasped the vase of flowers nearby; the Emperor heaved it out towards the wall, cracking into splinters of glass. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Come in,” The imperial bid, his attention snapping towards the door. A frightened servant entered the room, offering out a large, veiled canvas. “What is this?” Hadrian bid; he had little time for gifts, there was a war on the horizon. “From your sister,” the servants voice quivered. “Leave me.” The Emperor waved his hand, and promptly, the house-guard darted out of the room. Hadrian slowly lifted the veil, and his eye shrunk into the painting. . . . . . . “Hm…” Hadrian collapsed onto the chair. If the Emperor was cruel, what would he do to his sister? She had painted him, scarred and injured. His quill started to write upon the paper. My sister. Do you mock me with this paint- The Emperor halted, crossing out the line. What is wrong with you, Hadrian? Do you not remember our youth together? We looked so happy, Johannes, Joan and I. Dabbling the quill into the ink-pot, once again, he wrote. I hate my face, sister. Please do not make more paintings of me. Thank you for the gift. Use your talents to spread joy in the Empire. Your brother, Hadrian.

The Emperor silently read the missive — he did not say much, for he had nothing to say. Beholden to his singular eye, Hadrian’s lips spread from each corner of his cheek. The imperial folded the parchment neatly and tucked it into his jacket; a reminder of his cruelty, perhaps, or another trophy to use as recollection.

I’m the good guy.

“They let her go? That is interesting,” The Emperor murmured upon hearing the news of his daughter’s release. His following words caused those nearby to stare with concern. “The urukim seem like nice people, you know? If it was me, I would have chopped his daughter into little pieces and sent them to each vassal — it’d be like a collecting-game. He would have to piece the puzzle; the head goes there, the arm goes there, and eventually, once all her body parts were collected, he would finally make her whole…- I would not have cared if she was a child or adult, it would have been without mercy.”

The Emperor grasped the parchment, and read the words carefully. Hadrian's lips remain neutral, and for a brief moment, his eyes glanced up towards his brother, Johannes Marius. "Well, they better kill her then, hm? I still have four other children," There seemed to be little remorse in his words.

"Once again, the only silly thing about this is the Prince of the Stars, Lord Paramount of the Blood," The Emperor murmured, staring out towards his son and heir. @pkdon

"It is a sad display, in truth. I had little intentions to conquer them, for this was an agreement I upheld with my father -- though, verily, I desired conquest. However, the dwarves played the first act, and I simply carried out a suitable response!" The Emperor's lips shifted into a gentle smile, before turning to continue on with his day-to-day administrative duties outside of wars. He spoke only to himself, "Yes, oppressed people of the Empire! Dwarven masters will be your saviour! I am sure they will treat you with more kindness and honesty," "If the dwarves held any political finesse, they could have garnered more allies. Now, they are stuck with mud-balls and rock-slingers."