Ryanark

Isleífr applauded his dear broedr for winning the marriage speedrun, with a record time of 31 years.

Ser Hodrick polished his helm well in preparation for this occasion.

"Emperor's will be done." Ser Hodrick clenched his fist, standing among his peers and the Emperor, as the call for Imperator was hailed.

The Chapter of Heroes Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Aenean efficitur tellus augue, porttitor vestibulum justo vehicula id. Cras tortor nunc, varius id mattis eget, iaculis et tortor. Ut efficitur magna non venenatis rhoncus. Nunc gravida ultrices sapien, quis accumsan leo congue vel. Praesent ornare leo nec rhoncus malesuada. Etiam erat nibh, tincidunt at odio sagittis, tincidunt viverra sem. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Maecenas congue quis arcu vel luctus. Sed mattis nisl libero, vitae pulvinar orci semper sit amet. Nullam mollis odio felis, eget sollicitudin eros tempor ac. Ut fringilla tellus sit amet libero posuere, eu sodales mauris mattis. Integer vel nunc metus. Maecenas ut ipsum ac erat maximus vehicula scelerisque quis erat. Praesent mattis odio sed metus posuere, at luctus nulla molestie. In mattis ante vitae pellentesque accumsan.

"Woe unto the beardless," Isleífr repeated, a stone sharpening against the edge of his axe.

Name: Ser Hodrick Swann Title: Knight of the Heroes Chapter Horse Name: Prancer

Isleífr gave a thumbs up.

Isleífr prepared his best mules.

Isleífr sat in growing silence before the hearthflame, his discolored right hand squeezed into a fist. For the first time in years, that hand felt truly like his own again. The Norn smiled, throwing back a tankard of mead with a hearty chuckle. Vengeance never tasted so sweet.

Name: Ser Hodrick de Swann Affiliation: The Kingsguard Relevant Titles or Aliases: Ser Hodrick of the Vale

It was a dark, and long night. Restless sleep troubled Isleífr once again. Tossing and turning. It was usual, but this night was different. The Norn knew something had gone deeply awry, And in his dreams he was assured of vengeance.

Ser Hodrick looked to the rising sun, and when the swans bowed upon the lake, the Knight knew there had been borne two sons.

"I shall rally to the aid of Louis." Isleífr promised.

Hannes de Vilain grinned from the shadows.

"Like a proper skáld, Gunn." Isleífr smiled as his eyes poured over the parchment, looking back to his younger sibling, "Well done."

[ TRIGGER WARNING. CANONISTS READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ] ÁLDRGANN, ÁLDRGANN, Those macabre chants began. “Áesr, vek míð blóð ak beinn,” ÁESIR— WAKE, MY BLOOD. Isleífr's hands rose in reverence “Sker hjartit ór brjóst, rísti vængr í hauldi,” SKEWER THE BREAST AND HEART, SLIT ARMS IN HOLDING, "Áldrgann, gefe auss kraft ór i kvalum.." ÁLDRGANN, ÁLDRGANN, GRANT US OUR QUARRY'S STRENGTH. His eyes landed upon Anton with a command, DIE. With the beginning of the rite, Dragomir stood in reverent silence with a midnight blue axe brandished, in grim awaitance over the tied-down Ludovar, his bare and unblemished back exposed to the frigid air of the North. A brutal and gruesome fate awaited Anton. The cracking of bones heralded the start of the ritual, precise slicing of flesh along the axe's edge, sliced and carved open. He would not die from this, not immediately, and by the time Dragomir had finished, the flesh of his back was revealed bare. Isleífr began again, "Áldrgann, vi commend his soul to you," The squire's cries of agony from the butchering complimented his chanting. "RUDUHR, leave time for his torn body to rot," "YRSYR, soften his flesh to carve," "VALDR, may you drink his blood," The Old Gods were called, and they surely loomed, waiting to claim the squire's soul, The atmosphere is infused with the metallic aroma of iron and flesh making its debut. Sharp grind and rip of metal severing bones cut through the open air, as Dragomir remained the instrument of this macabre ritual. "May you fly with your BLOODIED WINGS; over the halls of Vedrhöll," "May du fly high enough for Sól to brand your open flesh," "THOSE BLACKENED SKIES WILL TAKE YOU." Isleífr cried out, chants growing increasingly fervent. Spectators turned away retching. Anton was still alive. Such was the grim fate of Anton Ludovar— blood-eagled upon a stump. Such was the fate of the wicked. The rite of the blotørn has set him free.

When you see unacceptable behavior, man the **** up and call it out. Even if it's your friends. Stop talking about this "they did, they said," — Who? You are involved in a pretend war. It takes little to no energy to be compassionate to the other side. Even when you are solely here for PVP; what makes a great PVPer is one who can treat their opponent with respect and dignity. It is basic sportsmanship. Thank you Gaius for making this post and giving a voice to this player, and that you took the time to give your own thoughts was very insightful. I hope that in the future, for this war, and for wars beyond that, players won't hesitate to take names and take this toxicity by the root when they witness it. It is very real, and can turn a war ugly quickly.

I, for one, welcome our new overlord.

Isleífr poured over the page, trying to find the fabled St. Beboon..!

"And for what reason have they imprisoned her?" Isleífr asked into the open cave, speaking to himself, before absorbing a Word of Power from the Nordyr word wall before him, intent on freeing her.

BY THE EVERLONG GRACE OF THE KING, WE SEE IT FIT to announce this to the world; we do hereby declare our alliance and friendship between our two nations: The Kingdom of Tor Ascara, and the Chiefdom of Totoca. The parties share a resolve to stand together in times of peace and in times of war, to protect and advance the mutual interests and sacred security of both our domains. We pledge to provide mutual support in times of need, and to be faithful allies to one another. To honour and respect one another’s laws and customs, to foster trade and economic prosperity between our two great nations, and to promote a spirit of understanding and cooperation between our peoples. Even in times of turmoil and uncertain peaces, we shall refrain from hostilities between one another and work to resolve disputes in a civil matter. It is today, the 11th of Last Offering 1572 A.L, That we openly declare our sacred bond from this day onwards until the foreseeable future. Signed, KING MEREDYDD VÔRT AEN, King, True Incarnate CHIEFTAIN ZANEN OF IYELITZIN, Head-Chieftain of Totoca