Conqueror

__ Ash-Skies scattered by might each passing morn, clouds never still from wing-flight. What destined be the Dwarven place of meeting, here’s the Prince's army, They may join the meeting. Beware. __

__ THE SKIES of Alemdrom frequently shutter and boom, the vapor of clouds never having time to coalesce... Except for the great plume of Smoke that rises from the Mont when the Consult meets, and when it is their Hour. A single streak of Fire encircles the volcanic peninsula on the morn of each day, The air hissing above as it is cut, and there is rolling thunder as that Fire surpasses sound. An agent of the Third guards, as is his purpose. __

all of lotc btw

⸸.-─────────.-──–──-.─────────-.⸸ H O P E O F A D R A G O N .-──–──-. ༺ ۝ ༻ “...They forget their past and ancestry, they forget the days when Man and Nephilim fought side by side with the banner of the great Titan flapping over their heads. They forget the Draconic Heraldry that their forebears took for sigils of their houses and instead deem it fitting to name the blessed children of the King as darkspawn.” -A Treatise on the Draconic, 7.- “ So Dragons have many hopes. One, is the Horenic Pact. Humanity had since lost trust in Nephilim-kind, following the old corruption of their Godfather, Azdromoth. The Dragaar had fallen to Iblees centuries ago… denoting him not as a loyal servant, no, but as one of many victims. Since the consumption of Xan, a death which had given the greatest gift of all: purification… A harmony between the reds of the king, and golds of the lion, forming amber, named appropriately ‘Apotheosis’, by his blessed children- those of Horen may again trust the newly ascended God Azdromoth. Again could those men march under a unified banner, again could the brotherhood be born. But those of Alemdrom, the great Kingdom within the Firelands, must lay in wait. Those embers shall remain just the Hope of a Dragon, unless something is done to show man proof of the redeemed purpose of the Nephilim. ” ●⊱──────-..-──────⊰● Writing ToddTheConqueror, Moumins Formating: Moumins Referenced author: Karim

AR'KAAN beheld the statues' likeness. He beheld it from the heavens, and on that day the Warlocks could see a faint streak of light far above clouds. An eye is on them. It was not Ar'Kaan's.

lhindir! In the brief time I have known you (on lotc) I have always loved the interactions. From a narrative perspective, you taught me to stay traditional Fair thee well...

My Carbarum sword and armor set is gone can I get them replaced please?

Everything was dim in The Pontifical States, stewards having already tended to the torches of their houses—servants within noble manors drawing out the oil from their lanterns an hour after nightfall. Most were asleep, at this point. But they could extinguish all the flames they wanted, there would still be one, very angry flame, alight, almost every night. This was its hour. It came from far away, fueled by the Holy Regencies own crimes. Crimes that had never gotten penance, because of course, the Canondom, above it all, owned that concept. So it wished to bring them their penance if they would not themselves. And in these nights it did. Many, many times. Peace returned to the flame, and Burgundy's inquisitions ceased. All was well, for a while. But the flame returned, this time, fueled by something else. Something greater. Something older. It traveled again and again to The Empire of Man, seeking what was above itself. Above that old fuel. How could it? How could all of this be forgotten, for this new purpose? There was a way, but only the flame knew. So it did not matter. AR'KAAN traveled South to The River Leone.

+1

ba ba bee brpphphphpph tyes

KAAZVALIKAR, the once-Kha, split the clouds above The Vale after finishing his second meeting with the Kharajyr Aelkos, returning to Redmont. Though, he didn't think about the meeting, nor did he think about his old moon-worshipping Brethren, or their mortality, this time. He did not think about how The Burning Assembly sought to defend all of Descendentkind from the threat of the High Hells, The Synod, The Black Church, or anything like that, although that was most of his motivation... All he thought of, this time, was that: Maybe now his distant siblings, atop their desert-mount, would see him as redeemable!

"What is this? Arcas?" Mused a certain voice to the imprudent contents within the missive. "Canonists let a single Kharajyr among the crowd represent them all. If we did that with their Priests, they'd all be sadists."

KAAZVALIKAR scanned the report, scrutinizing its false contents, rolling his eyes as Haense decided to glorify a tale of discrimination he's heard hundreds of times: his Brothers murdered by those they swore to protect. "How scared do you have to be? To murder out of fear? The product of a little and narrow mind... GOD had no hand in this." He placed the missive down, and went to that Red City.

yeah, long time no see chaos! And that is exactly the idea. They have been lead from the ruins of Khalenwyr from a “pilgrimage” just like any other current Kharajyr did canonically (and still can), as it says in the post. if this gets denied for a dumb reason like “Khalenwyr is destroyed” or “Metztli is dead” I will be mad

fixed

Kha’Leonis: So’Chakal, the First Leonis in Aevos The Kha’Leonis bears a coat ranging from bright Gold, to the darkest of sun-kissed tans, similar to their Leparda cousins. But, they will never have spots or stripes, and their stature is comparable to that of the Tigrasi, with a similar muscular physiology, only unable to reach their height. Their tail is long, sometimes with a large tuft of thick fur on the end. This subrace has always been known to grow the largest, most impressive manes in Kha society, but such a thing barely compares to the ego the Leonis inhibits: a boon from Metztli, fueled by the great feats of their Leonis ancestors, and inherited through perhaps.. genetic narcissism. Traditionally, the Kha’Leonis have always been the most narcissistic of the Kharajyr family, not a far cry of the pride of the High Elves. This pretentiousness gives them a distinct courageous, but reckless personality, with the Leonis being known throughout Kharajyr society as a glory-seeking, power-hungry subrace, who would stop at nothing to put themselves in a seat of authority. For this, they were exhumed from Kharakatua long ago, to live on either the outskirts of the declining Empire or the Islands surrounding Khalenwyr, staying there for centuries until now... where they were lead to Aevos in a mass pilgrimage by an unknown guide. The Leonis typically stands at a height between 5’6 and 6’8, and can weigh up to 250 pounds. Any weight below 140 is considered unhealthy for them, depending on their stature. Just like the Leparda, the Leonis is capable of pursuing any kind of profession they want, but this hardly happens. Their unrealistic confidence and constant need to prove themselves always leads them down a path to power alone, rarely ever reaching their goal of Aelkos anyways. With this eternal battle for self-perfection, the egotistical Leonis too boasts an innate aversion of impurity: almost never pursuing the Dark Arts or “corruptive” magics such as the Void, unless great portions of time were spent convincing them otherwise. The courage Kha’Leonis has is to a degree any descendent could exhibit, and is not supernatural like that of a Templar. They are still affected by fear-inducing magic like any other soul-bearing creature would be. This also does not lead to invulnerability or negligence of pain in combat, and could infact cause the opposite, with the Leonis bravely charging into a fight it possibly could not win. Though bearing strength comparable to that of a Tigrasi, the “peak” strength of a Leonis is between an Orcs and a Humans, but never above a Tigrasi’s. Purpose: Credits: ToddTheConqueror (Writing) Wretched (Formatting)

Permafrost melted. Cold air turned to Steam... There, before the tree, stood Kazvalikar. His gaze rose from its roots, to its canopy. Today, he spoke no words, told nobody he was here, nor pay any vigil. Only a huff escaped him. Between this Templar, and the onlooking Nephilim, there was a long History. It will be a History nobody knows, because it is one he won't ever talk about. It was of deals, duels, teachings, and at one point, in the end, a rare spark of unity, sadly never lasting long enough to fuel those fires of friendship. It was snuffed out. Snuffed out by the very same force which extinguished so many of whom he fought alongside. But now, Guile finally did beat him at something. Something Kazvalikar could never achieve. What was it, again? He tried to remember. Death. Answered the Moon for him.

THE CORPSE of Braugmaw the Breaker laid crumbled in that Hyspian Valley, now only a set of massive, dusty bones. A headless Skeleton belonging to the Ogrish Creature, perhaps of Krug origin, eaten away by time. SURROUNDING it are the heads of shattered Spears, bolts from Crossbows and the remnants of a Shield. THIS LOCATION is the remnant of a Battlefield, a testament to the power and calculation of modern Kharajyr. One of many such locations.

i've never properly met AlienPebbles, but i do remember coming back from being afk in places like Aaun and Haense with cookies in my inventory, and nobody around to have given them to me. Prayers for them and their family, and God rest their soul

KAAZVALÎKAR knelt in the Ash-halls below Tor'Praeth, the Mace held in both his hands. His gaze laid not upon it though, just beyond, staring into the pit of Heralds before. He was silent, his maw held some agap, liquid Fire stricken against those grounds. He had forgotten the harrow of a Herald-death, the sadness of one who could never transcend with him. In his head replayed his memories with Vidnyr, the same way the minds of those who grieve always recall. This Dwarf, unlike Azlihessan was, will never be his Brother. He knelt for hours. And hours.

KAAZVALÎKAR awoke, emerging from his Drakeshrine: atlast. Falling from it, his legs buckle; and somehow, for some reason, he was exhausted. Burned within his mind, that tattered realm... Will he see the Grave-skies again?

KHALENWYR CULTURE????? OMG?

KHÂZVALIKAR's severed head rolls across the church floor, the rest of his armored body clatters to the ground the opposite direction, soon followed the innocent An-Gho's. Hopefully this was the irony, the wake up call to his Brothers, that the Church's sin far surpasses that of the Ordo Nephilim's supposed, accused own. That is the thing though... It won't.