Hephaestus

true.

Please. Who could have thought curating 10 blocks of x material every 5 hours was a good idea? On paper, it drives roleplay – but, only in the least: point in case, Vortex was certainly not made with consideration of large-scale builds. For the love of God Almighty: just give us paid LC.

is this halal/kosher/vegan?

________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xi4O4RvlnQ ] BIDING sombre respite yet, word o'th' grapevine betides the LAURIR OF MAEYR'ONN, IHIEVHII'THILLN MAEYR'ONN; a caper of his gilded survey, flitting thusly to and fro, and yonder glen, o'er the waxed parchment, bespoke an abiding tact, 'twixt the throes of a cerebral fit of scrutiny. A languid inebriation paved the frameworks of a humoured countenance, 'gainst his lambent pallid and pellucid –– digits twining the gnarled veneers of a threadbare chalice's stem, through and throughout, in copious indulgence: one could venture even, lilting dimples displaced o'er his equitable taut, boding his salt-swept smile. "DEATH TO'TH'… IMPURE, AN' HIS WAYS OF –– AH: SODOMY. MRM… MORE BOOZE, IF YE' MIGHT…" INTONATED that pompous equester –– begging manage a volte-face shift of his chiding stare, ceded then o'er the 'ker valet adjacent himself, MORDU'KER [ @Shah of Iran]: a decadent avarice betoken in his coeval, auric iris'. "MRMPH… … SWIFT ARE THE SPOILS; SPEEDY IS THE PLUNDER." ________________________________________________________________________

PROCLAMATION OF LAURIRSHIP CIRCA. 5TH OF THE GRAND HARVEST, 1830 ___________________________________________________ “EVARAL’ONN TALKARIMAR; PRESERVATION FROM VALOUR” – ANNALS OF THE MAEYR’ONN TALONNII, 1468. ___________________________________________________ WITH HEAVY HEART AND ARDOUR, IT IS THAT THE PRIMEVAL HOUSE OF MAEYR’ONN DECREES ITS LONG FERVENT BANNERMAN, IHIEVHII’THILLN NELECAR MAEYR’ONN, ITS JUST LAURIR; THROUGHOUT the vicissitudes of Haelun’orii governance, the last two-hundred winters, it has been observed by the Motherland’s assiduous vox populi that the presence of the long-lived Talonnii of MAEYR’ONN has been merely notional. That is to say, the mantle of Laurir, more titular and figurative than very much else; vicarious, simply. This is apprehended more so, under the tenure of El’Sohaer, KOLVAR URADIR, through which the house is wholly impertinent, and trivial –– and, one would venture even, irrelevant. WITHAL, given the return of IHIEVHII’THILLN NELECAR MAEYR’ONN, who arrives nigh in the Haelun’orii steppe that is the Isle of Daybreak, following a twenty-year’s sabbatical of his equestrian duties, it is seen fit that he be appointed the venerable truss of Laurir, in the absence of any other bannermen. This bill is seen seconded by the Laurir of Elibar’acal, his kindred nephew; as by the Laurir’s brother. IHIEVHII’THILLN NELECAR MAEYR’ONN demonstrates and proves both cerebral and martial aptitude, as is bespoken and evidenced by his feats of valour under the silver threshold that is the ORDER OF THE SILVER LION; and, his consummate scholarship in the field of the alchemical. He harkens to both the genteel lines of NELECAR MAEYR’ONN, ‘THE LION,’ and CENWALL MAEYR’ONN, ‘THE FROG;’ Sohaer and Ah’Sohaer respectively, whose tall tales span the purest annals of Haelun'or, and shall yet for thousands of ages. ___________________________________________________ SIGNED, IHIEVHII’THILLN NELECAR MAEYR’ONN. ___________________________________________________

My only concern would be that this seems a little close to Sens. Illusion. Otherwise pretty neat; I enjoy seeing interesting little curios like this that really have the potential of tying narratives together, if not spark new ones. +1

_____________________________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________________ [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLsSan9koAU ] ABOUT ABOUT, in reel and route, fires of UNDEATH ringstraked the sky; flouting the firmaments and welkins with sinuous rills of brimstone and fry, blazoning an ebon nimbus that, if one were to see its spire, would see the breadth of space entire, as the sap of WIDUKIND, THE WIZENED OAK. Votive psalms trilled through and 'twixt the every squalid, cleft and cranny; chasm and crack, of PETRA TURRIS' antecedent halls –– the Ebreitæn canticles, piously impious, rapt unto the mortal coil of a wretched, conjunction-borne, clandestine contingent of the waylaid banner-brothers of RH'THOR, and its gnarled prince-messiah. Pledging their troth in a single psalmody which bespoke the united tongues and voices of seventy-thousand and threescore men, they struck cacophonous chords and musings which rung all the way back into the valley's base: [Cryptic] i. A'sna urk'emregen sub'Serthek; ii. Narg re'ate Blovak vireundzord Serthek, [Old Savoyard] i. Tha sinn air ar breith bhon Dorchadas; ii. Fear dèanta leis an Dorchadas, ALL girdled 'round the maw of HEITH-HEDRAN, Her sable, crepuscular foam and froth kissing the fringe and frame of each necrolyte; from the toenails to'th' naves, in an occult litany, Her ever-abiding bannermen begetting surplus' of tenebrous coalesce from their calluses –– boring the weatherworn flesh of their digits by whit of pins and ribbons of unabated BLACKNESS. For, NIGH had a vast swathe of smog and smoulder cleared and bade its gelid sky farewell, heralding an omen of antediluvian reveries. Alive, and not quite living; deathly, but not quite dead; blacker than black; yet brighter than even an arduous light –– RADIANT WAS THE BLACK SUN; [Cryptic] iii. Narg jul'ify vireundzord Serthek, iv. A'sna Serthek. [Old Savoyard] iii. Air a dhèanamh leis an Dorchadas, iv. Tha sinn an t-Seann Dorcha. FROM fittle, those laymen feasted fervently thus, as wicked sabbath. For, that night, THEIR FIRKINS WOULD BE BLED. _____________________________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________________

What RP niches are you yet hoping to pursue, in the future?

21 in September.

Had a good deal of fun writing this with you, despite the fact that I procrastinated some.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6GK8HhjQQE _________________________________________________________________________ FLICKER and desist, did those candlewicks which occupied one positively bohemian lord's chamber –– the taper of lambent wicks casting some vestiges of radiance unto the draperies which girded its walls fourfold in scattered, contingent bouts; furbishing the impregnable dim and dark which dwelled and festered some, 'ere purging and undoing itself the following, nascent moment. Vladislav Ostrobor, the Lord of Roussard, surveyed the posthumous missive, the spirit of sorrow nigh waxed in his dual iris'; juxtaposing their vivid cerulean, however waning came the instance of anguish, the very futile likeness of a forlorn frown displacing 'gainst an upturned maw, vanquishing what pompous smirk bade its claim previously. HE apprehended thereafter, the nuance of grave scrutiny discernible in either eye, forfeited in the glossing of film eyelids o'er them; a momentary blink betoken of his apt consideration, 'fore drawing his digits some measures rereward. Stiffening thusly, fivefold digits encircled the truss of a candelabrum, the man having animated himself no longer: "Be tranquil, in your sleep. May God be charitable to you in the next life, cousin." AND thus, having wielded plumes of cool wind of his parted lips, the wicks tapered no longer; incandescent, as the veil of dusk usurped the bedchamber –– castrating its view of mortal sight. _________________________________________________________________________

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lACoAxJkfO8 ________________________________________________________________ WAXING cackling coursed within and without the melancholy which ringstraked the labyrinthine halls of the KREMLIN ANAVET; reaping and reverberating ever –– once, and twice, and thrice, those humoured tongues rapt and haunted the selvedge tapestries, juxtaposing the wicked miasma which furbished that keep. Forsooth, had the dire psalms become of none but the liege lord VLADISLAV OSTROBOR OF WOLDZMIR, the thalassic cerulean of either eye duly surveying the notice, inlaid creases dimpling coeval ends of his lips as he thusly beamed sevenfold with a belligerent delight, maw descending with mirth and merriment to erupt in candid humour. ALAS, whereafter some trifling frames at instances did manage about and pass, the ever amused wavelengths which metastasised through the fourfold corners of the lord's chamber foundering some: unto laughter; and then, mere chuckling; and thus, the impregnable brass of quietude occupied the bedchamber once more, sans oft the due snickers of the positively loquacious man. He constrained naught of the semblance of jubilance, from his lineaments, however the impertinent nature of the tabloid –– no less the matter of its concern with his kith, either. Dulling in his instance of joviality, he did bide part of his lips to let sound unto the room once more, penetrating the silence of the chamber and suturing about thereof with meagre murmurs: "And yet, I've no mention in the matter? Myself, for whom the great brawl did spur of the request thereof? Mm, no matter. In any case, I am verily humoured by this notice. How… wickedly delightful, indeed." ________________________________________________________________

‘TWIXT the livid veil of which long occupied the smog-laden yurt thusly, so could the nude eye discern the profile of one Kadaksleri ecclesiastic, mounted about juxtaposing frays and fair measures of lavish fleece, positively bedecked and embellished by ornaments and the like. A meagre frame at an instance hereto, he bade time ‘ere he relinquished the lame of his disposition, accoutred with ever modest a count of raiments — ‘till his toils and scrutiny amounted to but a trifling animation: managing yield of the hashish hook, whither it prior clung with sacerdotal devotion o’er the visceral tissue of his lips. Wreathen ‘round and girding his cuff, he moored the cord to coeval laps, abasing the thing which espoused incense heartily; even he deigned bob his burgonet some, in congruence with the words of his kinsman, eschewing digits of the contours branded about his torso to sieve a nugatory several coils of his flaxen mane, which besmirched the fair of his countenance prior. “Verily, we shall, ah — pray penance on the ill-begotten; for, trust and believe, our demiurge is one of candour and forgiveness, most certainly.” WAXING, hereby managed some tract of ire which dwelled to the catacombs of the viridescence of either iris. He harkened the words of his equestrian brother, surmising some slur of liturgies in a bout of ardent piety: “Should all else serve for naught, however, woe betide, it would not be without warrant that we displace them, from their navels to their chops, and mount their scalps upon our battlements. I would hope matters not degenerate, even they would amount to that practice, however. Ilah Boyükundür.” @Yeagerist

ONE haggard crone of the reaches EAST-MEETS-WEST, for whom the yugas have spared not of their unjust blight, assumes pleat after pleat, and fold unto fold in the fleshy strait 'twixt her brows, bemoaning the prospect of written word, having yielded the feat of liturgic reading and writing altogether, 'till a single gaggle of discernible semantics drifts unto the waxing viridescence of her purview: RH'THOR, the bounties for which her exodus harkened to. RETORTING, hereby, she oft beseeched a layman recount that chronicle 'fore her ears, twain –– upon which, in that very vein, the apostle registered a riposte upon her behalf: Name: BATHSHEBA Age: 43 Past Accomplishments: WARDED THE GRIP; WARDED MALAISE; WELL-VERSED IN ORAL ANTIQUITIES AND LITURGIES. †

JUXTAPOSINGLY, one bohemian beckons a waxing joviality unto his oft disillusioned gaggle of lineaments –– anointed by the very fruits of youth, culling the tract of yugas past. Forsooth, fold by fold; pore by very pore, did so faint a vestiges of wretched, Machiavellian jubilance concede to his countenance. Truly, Vladislav of Woldzmir leered with the flippant Ashford Sun's Smile. "Woe betide, the rodents shall cede plague unto our pious bounties."

An absolutely essential step moving forward. Nicely done.

ptolemy of thoth

******* a