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Sweet Nerevarine

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    SweetNerevarine

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  • Character Name
    Cadwalla
  • Character Race
    Highlander

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  1. "Woe to the man who wanders the Wiccewoldz [1] withoutten much wisdom. Many an ælfen or afgudeignatos [2] lingers in its neuks, waiting, then springing outwith their hiding holes to make mischief upon the minds of men unprepared. If ye go there, to the realm of wicce, heed this: remember that The Deiwo [3] is, in His greatness, unimaginable. Nought can compare to He. Though, wicce-ones often desire nought else but to lead His creations astray. Like a gnat landed on something far greater than itself, we are too small to witness The Deiwo. Even the behemoths of the Wiccewoldz are too small to behold Him. Guard yer worship from all others but He: even if they should tower above you in might, they are nought in His presence." When Cadwalla wandered this plane, guided by his auld teacher, it at first felt like falling from a ship into the tides. During a great and terrible storm there is a rumbling of the waves, a roaring of the rain, and then a muffling of things as one sinks beneath. The cold embrace of water quiets the chaos of the surface, so too did it here. Out in the darkness of this place, a pair of serpentine eyes gazed aimlessly across its vastness. Cloaked in vaporous shadow, the eminent form of some giant lyften [4] adder slid through the celestial stew, oblivious to the Cingedoz in its midst. This part of the Wiccewoldz looked like a night sky, disturbed only by the presence of the great snake. Here Cadwalla floated, he swam in it like an ocean, yet breathed in its emptiness like air. The stillness of this grand abyss choked the air with an overwhelming quiet. Though at last, breaking this dreadful silence, a voice called out a warning: an ancient ken would come to the man, though the price was its selfless application. This knowledge of Wicce could not be used for foul purposes, else a terrible punishment lay ahead. Now the great adder's eyes turned to Cadwalla, ravenous, full of hungry intent. Its maw retracted, its fangs gleamed a ferocious light across the otherwise black plane. No matter how hard the robed sage thrashed against the wicce waters, he moved but a fraction of the velocity at which the celestial snake was fast approaching. Until, like a vole caught in its jaws, it seized upon him and swallowed him whole. Beneath the shade of an old oak, his guide closeby, Cadwalla returned with a bellow from the Wiccewoldz. The message was as clear as the sage was shaken. He hoped the beast, The Deiwo willing, would never be seen again. Though, time would tell.
  2. Daud, the young nomad, had never heard of Fascism, nor should he have: he was not from the 20th century of our familiar, yet strictly homaged, world. But alas, he had indeed bore witness to an ideology which had translated itself into the land of Almaris, from Earth, with as little as a change of name, or adjustment of tenets. Thankfully, he hadn't the literacy to understand it.
  3. A tartan-clad, fur-cloaked, plate-armoured warrior commissioned by @Evonpire
  4. Nadal Ravexi, none the wiser of his wife, friend, and beloved's passing, continued his wayward search for Vivyne in unbeknown vain. Their life had been errant; he was accustomed to their parting of ways; oblivious to her true nature. Yet, for all the times that the two had walked separate roads, this was beginning to be the longest. For the first time in his long life- his long marriage- he was truly afraid. Had a wave embraced her while out at sea? A brigand taxed her of her life? Did a mage ignite her, a headsman behead her, or a vengeful spirit drag her away? Not even the most farcical of Nadal's frit thoughts could compare to the truth. Perhaps, a truth he would never know. So, he carried on his wandering, a changed man. If he had once had a blithe to him, it had long become stoical and pensive, a strange change for those who knew him; all who did had long passed. Perhaps this was the true curse of an elf? To outlive, in such a cruel place as this.
  5. Otrok Qan caught the whiff of embers in the air. A moue formed upon his face, an expression of part pity, part disturbance. Border towns had always been but the beginning of terrible things to come, however desolate they may be. He had witnessed the happy days of past empires fleet away. He had seen the barbarity of Man's empires in their waning days. And with a rearing of his steed, he turned and rode south. He would not be around to see the horrors of their strife again. Soon, he thought, the wigs, pomp, and faux civility would be replaced. Gallows, superstition, and fearsome paranoia were to be the qualities of the new era; qualities which never boded well for the turkins... 'O Illah, protect them from the north, protect them from the south, from the east, and from the west; for surely no road shall be without war. Let them take refuge in your magnificence when there is nothing left. Ameen.'
  6. Form Discord: (Either leave your username here or PM me it) Money (or) Minas: (Your payment preference) Commission Type: (Full skin, full outfit, etc.) Description: (Please provide a rough description of your commission; race, sex, age, hair colour, eye colour, features etc.) References: (If you have references, these would be very helpful; if not, I'll try to come up with something) Creative liberty: (yes: if you'd like me to add my own touches; no: if you'd rather I stick stringently to a reference image) After you've made your commission, I'll create a draft skin. It'll be unshaded; an idea of what the final product will look like, which you can suggest changes to. Then, I'll send you an image of the final product. After that, and after I've received payment- either in-game or via PayPal- I'll send you the skin file.
  7. Csertan Otrok, a venerable elder of the Kadaksleri Turkins, sent word of his coming attendance by way of a hazel feathered, dishevelled Donek, which found its way to the bird coops of Dobrov.
  8. The old man Otrok, inspirited to correction, rambled his case for the writing to the dismissive Rashid. "The scholar argues not that having a beard is a sin in & of itself, - no no. - But that for the dwarf, whose wearing of a beard is a tradition tied to their pagans ways - to the supposed commands of the false idol Yemekar, - that the beard is a remnant of their past idolatry and should be cast off. He uses the verse to call his people to action against this." "So, brother, do not bedevil yourself! You are not a Dwarf? Your beard is fine where it is."
  9. Father Popescu-Voiteşti signed the Hussariyan cross thrice across his chest, and with a bellowing Vasoyevi resonance he chanted: "Glory to the Lord and may His Church forever prosper!"
  10. MUSIC K H R O N I A P O L L A EST. 1823 WITHIN THE METROPOLITANATE OF PROVIDENTIA WITH THE BLESSING OF HIS EMINENCE CARDINAL GAWAIN FROM THE SCRIPTORIUM OF FATHER LAURENȚIU POPESCU-VOITEŞTI, FSSCT GLORY TO THE LORD & MAY HIS SAINTS FOREVER BE BLESSED PROCLAMATION OF A METROPOLITAN ABBEY Let it be known to all faithful Canonists that, within the Metropolitan Diocese of Providentia, a new Abbey has been consecrated for use by the Monasti of Blessed Pius & Seraphim, a dual-cloister accepting both male and female postulates. The Abbey shall function upon the institutes therein The Monastikon, following the great Vasoyevian tradition. We dedicate our Abbey to both the Blessed Hieromonk Pius of Sutica and the Blessed Father Seraphim so that we may be guided by their righteous grace, dignity, piety, and humility before GOD. We declare to know no father but our Father Almighty GOD; know no mother but our Mother of Mankind; know no belongings, but that which belongs not to ourselves; and know no kindness, but that bestowed upon our brother-man. For we have died a worldly death so that we may go to battle for you. For everyday, the monk enters battle with Iblees for the salvation of his brother-man. Everyday, the nun beseeches salvation for humankind. I hear the scoff of the hardened soldier; I have borne my scars of war, but I tell you, no battlefield will test yine strength like that of the monastic life. Come to us, brave warrior, so that you might walk the path of our Lord and achieve union with Almighty GOD. Come too, ye politician! Who have allowed temporal decay to consume you; it is not too late for salvation. Come, ye priests! Who serve well, yet wish to serve GOD twice-fold. The Hieromonk in you is destined to be born. You harlots! You broken women! Come, for it is not too late to earn GOD’s mercy. Brothers and sisters, I tell you, it is not too late. I will greet you at the gates. & to any heathen who reads this missive, and intends harm upon the community: If you come, you will not return. BLESSINGS OF GOD BE UPON YOU, HIEROABBOT LAURENȚIU POPESCU-VOITEŞTI, FSSCT THE ABBEY IS GUIDED BY THE MONASTIKON & THE INSTITUTES HEREIN MONASTIC DEGREES TENETS & CORRECTIONS Minor Rules Ꙉ Monasti of the opposite sex shall avoid fraternizing privately with one another; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall clean the latrines for the coming fortnight to remind them of their lavaciousness. Ꙉ Monasti shall not sate their appetite for food ere the daily supper; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall undertake a strict fast of three days to remind them of their gluttony. Ꙉ Monasti shall not adorn temporal clothes, but remain strictly in the clothes of their degree; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be vested in rags for the next year to remind them of their pride. Median Rules Ꙉ Monasti shall not quarrel; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be vowed to silence for the coming week. Ꙉ Monasti shall not gamble; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall pick pennies for the poor for the coming week. Ꙉ Monasti shall not lie; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall pray ceaselessly for forgiveness for the coming week. Ꙉ Monasti shall not blaspheme; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be excluded from common prayer for the coming week. Major Rules Ꙉ Monasti shall not murder; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be expelled from the monastery. Ꙉ Monasti shall not fornicate; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be expelled from the monastery. Ꙉ Monasti shall not preach heresy; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be expelled from the monastery. Ꙉ Monasti shall not disobey their Abbot; Monasti who forsake this tenet shall be expelled from the monastery. DUTIES The Abbey, and it's Monasti, serve to fulfil a number of functions beyond the individual, spiritual, obligations of the monastics. These functions primarily serve to aid the wider faithful, as well as the Holy Mother Church, and of course the State. Some such duties, not exclusively, are: (i) Communal prayer on behalf of individuals, families, or nations of the faithful: the monastics will muster together to perform rituals of prayer, beseeching the intercession of Almighty GOD, His Prophets or Saints, on behalf of the faithful. The Monasti can prayer for the safe passing of a loved one, the success of an Emperor in matters of righteous war, the safety of a Canonist peoples undergoing foreign persecution, or another matter deemed appropriate for such a holy ceremony. This act of faith is not exclusive to Emperors and Dukes however, as the Monasti will perform such rites even for the lowliest of peasants. (ii) Acts of charity, inkeeping with Blessed Seraphim's institution of monastic-giving: the monastics will provide the poor and wretched with a place to stay, bread and food, or teachings in the way of Canonism. These acts are not the sole duty of Monastics, but a secondary function, and as such the regular occurrence of this charity will be limited to the discretion of individual monasti and their Abbot. (iii) Missionary work: the Monasti will travel to foreign lands in search of converts to the blessed faith of Canonism. Often risking life and limb for such ventures, the Monasti should fear not death, for they are dead to the world. (iv) Negotiating the release of Canonist hostages held by heathens and heretics: the Monasti will intercede on behalf of Canonists who have fallen prey to heathen or heretical hostage-takers, acting as the middle-men for the safe return of the faithful from barbarous hands. APPLICATION Either Fill-In An Application (OR) Visit In-Game To Discuss In RP OOC IGN: DISCORD: TIME-ZONE: IC NAME: RACE: GENDER: ORDAINED: (Y/N) BRIEF LETTER: (IC reason for applying)
  11. Zvonomir raised his grubby strelt hands in the air in celebration. “URA!” He’d scream with Raevir passion as he heard of the movements of his Lord.
  12. Sweet Nerevarine

    Aelfread

    Born of a line of smallfolk who trace their blood to Kralta through oral tradition, Slobodan was brought up in what can be considered an atypical Raevir childhood. The young Highlander was born 1661, out in the woods, far from his peoples within the confines of a cabin amid the woodlands of Haens, to his mother Agafa and father Anatoly. Slobodan remained an only child throughout his harsh upbringing, having no company bar his parents, a solemn experience for one so young. He and his family remained relatively isolated for a large portion of his first decade of existence, his parents being fanatics of the old Raevir ways of practicing Cannonism, and seeking utter isolation to do just that. While his father brought meat to the table through nefarious means, they often went hungry and lived bleakly. Slobodan was tasked with chopping wood and snarring rabbits in the evenings, creating quite the poacher of the boy. As he grew up he would become just that, prowling the woodlands at risk of hanging to catch deer, rabbits, and any other game that might feed his kin and himself. In the current year, Slobodan's family died a long and drawn out death of the pox and the man took to the road to travel. His knowledge of the world is limited at best, and a lifetime of isolation from its many wonders leaves him baffled at things beyond his woodland home.
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