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Boruto

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About Boruto

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    Begone, foul beast!

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    Boruto

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  1. Pierro Bracchus acclaims the distinguished youth for the expertise and eloquence by which he imposed himself within the noble assembly, wishing him only greater prosperity in reign. "Porca miseria, Jean! It is nigh-time dear Adria was risen from the dead."
  2. Boruto

    DUMAPALOOZA

    A young man of the once prevalent and prosperous Bracchus line had wetted his quill to pen the fine Ruskan host a response, stamping it with the mark of his forbears and consigning it thereafter to a carrier; whom would pass it over with utmost urgency. “To the most gracious and diligent Dmitri, who I had not met, but of whom I have heard only good; I stand honoured. Never had I thought to see the day in which great Adria, the provincial cradle of playwrights, wordsmiths and poets, and which I hold in only the highest of regard, would rise from the heights of dormancy and ruin to lighten yet another mainland. Verily, I had never seen, but have read of the tragedies that would time and time again befall these landmarks and cities that our fathers cherished. Kingdoms and empires had grown to insurmountable power and renown, only to fall and be lost within the dreadful annals of history. All would be forgotten eventually, as is the natural course of things; all but Adria, for it is unlike most, and folk would see it awaken always in the least favourable of odds. It is one graced with such integrity, such candor that the rot of time alone is not sufficient to have it truly lost or done away with. And I, a descendant of the once-known Bracchusian bloodline have also been nadir; rock-bottom. Ours is the blood of Saints and great men, true symbols of the golden age and folks who had hefted the burden of entire cities on their backs. Ours is of virtuous blood, not water, and just like our cherished Adria, we will see the name of our old progenitors and ancestors rise from ash. Dmitri, I lay most honoured to be guest to your invite, to the Dumapalooza, and I await with great fervency the days to come.”
  3. Applications are practically effortless nowadays, doesn’t take half a brain and a couple minutes to write one up.
  4. The Chief Officer of Foreign Affairs, Viedrick Terzieff de Attre smiles.
  5. A man – some man, unmuddled by the troubles and tribulations of politics – reads aloud the poem to a peasantry contingent; a flock of the impoverished. A poem at which the grown folk burst laughing. “By what rights do they dare claim an empress to have it worse? They act by shame, not sorrow.” “Hear, hear! One cannot pretend to mourn righteously when they, indifferently and without the slightest sense, walk over dead carrion by the dozens. Their grieve as it seems pertains only to that of Kings and Queens. Shame, not sorrow.”
  6. The carriage driver carries on, having acknowledged the tip of a hat. At the coming of his next client, he smiled wittingly, but why?
  7. Let’s all stop whinging about every other administrative step and actually endorse that ****’s being done. Do not belittle the small (at least in your eyes) achievements in fighting what has been a lengthy dark age for rules and forums. Put down your little (justifiable) hate-boners, change is gradual.
  8. earth is flat tbh.

  9. “This kind, ser, we call the Volka; in which womenfolk conceive themselves wolves. In Auvergne, they call them Ganipote.” -Consultant Jean-René to a foreign duke on the subject of affliction, 1693 “Verily, there remain very few beasts in present compiled bestiary, of both the fictional and existent, that are as wont in invoking such fear and striking as much terror in the hearts of hunters and stouts to the degrees to which Vukodlak, or the Varg so terribly and consistently manages in spite of his dying populace. Partly with their numbers having been whittled down to the point of near (or absolute) extinction, their hordes forcibly driven away beyond the borders of their natural habitats, and partly for the difficulty with which their lesser counterparts come to couple. The Ganipote, or Volka however, resembling much more a wolf than a man, is of no such variation; for she treads on all fours, hunts and thirsts for children just as the wolf, and breeds ably, to a set extent, with other mutts of the forest; a distinction that sets her apart from other beastfolk, and makes the identification of their kind a matter of far greater difficulty. In our admittedly failed excursion to track and retrieve evidence proving of Ganipote’s existence, traces left were indeed numerous enough; and although she may have gone extinct, as have many regal draconic species in the past, the Ganipote, much like her cousins, left her lasting mark in the antiquities of Man; having trodden southern snows, ridden the outskirts of old and now-battered Orenian cities, and howled amongst shepherd’s most unfortunate herds; whose entrails they fell on and tore without the slightest reprieve. A vicious beast, no doubt, but one that, over time, folks of later generations will come to treasure for its simplistic primitivity and, even later, mourn its extinction. And still, we would be too rash and ill-learnt to so easily conclude that it has posolutely gone extinct! For, if God wills, it could still roam the Sutican woods, preying on the minds of elves (to which we may safely attribute their imbecility and dullness of mind), ranging Arcasian hills or even be found howling its starve to the cold winter breeze.” - Anonymous Author
  10. War has changed.

    1. Boruto

      Boruto

      War, war has changed.

      It's no longer about nations, ideologies, or ethnicity. It's an endless series of proxy battles, fought by mercenaries and machines.

      War --and it's consumption of life-- has become a well-oiled machine.

      War has changed.

      ID-tagged soldiers carry ID-tagged weapons, use ID-tagged gear. Nanomachines inside their bodies enhance and regulate their abilities.

      Genetic control, information control, emotion control, battlefield control… everything is monitored and kept under control.

      War… has changed.

      The age of deterrence has become the age of control, all in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass destruction, and he who controls the battlefield, controls history.

      War… has changed.

       

      When the battlefield is under total control, war becomes routine.

    2. Padre_Tales

      Padre_Tales

      no it hasnt it been boring lol

    3. Boruto
  11. The abandoned millstead of the Wretch Father, following a great flood. c. 1498 Recovered Origins “Why, you ill-gotten witch; have you not a grain of thought for the well-being of others?!” –The Wretch, to a southeron sorceress during his excursion. Exeter, unknown “Among but a few of the black scripts ascribed (presumably) to the Wretch of Laria – a subject of variant lost myths and drunken tales, and a man whose existence was even falsified by some folk – were those parchments inked in blood upon uncleant leather, found within the moth-eaten stead of a swampen wreckage; thought to be of his very own residence. As myself, several other scholars and a band of valiant armed militiamen scoured into the remnants thereon, we managed to procure several trails of the Wretch’s deeds, traces that told of his exercised black devilry beneath the ash and rubble of the extirpated abode. The stench that prevailed was unlike any other; for it told the sacrifice of not only man, but beasts – of which there were lamb, cattle and others – of the nearby Veldt and Mires that were left to rot before being burnt at an altar to appease the exalted fiend (or what he perceived, under false illusions, to be God's own sent image, when it was in actuality the devourer’s). Severed members and residue of unfeasible stench littered the terribly cold walls of the basement, piss and excretion or even faecal matter, too, were not at all uncommon; and to be particularly noted was the lack of any garderobes or shiteing stools, which clued us into the putrefied lifestyle braved by the forgotten Madman. As we prowled carefully deep into the winding chambers and crevices held unseen behind large tapestries, we were able to unearth The Laboratorium brewing several feet underneath swamp mud; it having been utilized right until its final days pre-destruction when the walls began to fall apart and wood pried clean off. Many of the bloodlet concoctions that hadn’t festered to harsh humility or given in to prolonged exposure were retrieved, and many more still were lost in the process; with skin-bare rodents thrashing in fear and shattering vials, and who, thanks to strange experimental rites and hellish elixirs, managed to live for months without food nor water; feeding instead on their own regurgitated manure, matter and those of others. And although we highly suspect that the beastly scourge owes its uprise to such mixtures, infusions and sacrificial broths as was found, they have, beyond all doubt, contributed generously to the Wretch’s uncessant efforts. We have yet to study, dissect and construe our findings, but we shan’t be so foolish still as to push our luck. There remains evidence to be retrieved, time to bide, and the devil would sooner have us flounder in impatience than rise prosperous.” —Horst von Gutschmid Indexium Lupus Ponce, 1633
  12. An old, ancient relic of flesh stirred beneath its earthen barrow, woken by the rues of disparity. A silent, breathing echo left its ruint maw, and beyond tarnished teeth bristled a mournful plea; ”Spare.. have mercy — One who walks in Gold!” And the deathly corpse fell, as it has countless times begone, unto an unending slumber; torn by the blurred line of heavenly realms and unearthly chasms.
  13. The smithsman struck upon his great anvil, yet fell afeared of the flames that came to rise; “Tsss!”
  14. A common Rubernite blacksmith, borne to lesser renown, spat and foamed at the mouth. Within his mind were sung the greater cries of death, hallowed chants of blood and drunks in war. Flesh would wilt and fall, skin and bone swept by horrid winds; but honour and virtuous deed alone prevailed, an obelisk to tell of their memoirs. Thus begun the fierce preparations, that they may reign victorious by might and steel.
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