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About erictafoya

  • Birthday 11/11/2003

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    ur da- I mean mom

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    Leonid Marco d'Arkent-Kortrevich / Erik Otto
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  1. [!] The remnants of a defeated foe leaving a defeated land “To complain during a time of peace is to still be in peace” - L.M.A.K. ~~* *~~ War So dreaded and filled with plight. One wonders, why would anyone want to continue that fight? It can be justified, arbitrary, wrong, or simply right. What if it’s brutal? The countless lives sinking from a once peaking height. ~~~~ A quiet war? One that sheds no blood but instead brings words and ideals? A war that applies no bandage but allows the scars to openly heal? Would this wound fester in infection or finally fade or seal? Is that even possible? Is it even real? ~~~~ NO! It can’t be. How can it be called a war? No blood has been spilled. No glory or bounty to fight for. Was this really all there was? One would think it would mean more. Alas. . . the histories will write of the weight we bore. ~~~~ Forget us? Will everything we fought for be forgotten? Would the prize of battles truly be allotted? It. . . It all confuses me. It is a dark hole I am lost in. . . Clueless. I should enjoy a fresh life instead of one old and rotten. ~~~~ Legacy. Was this conflict's legacy truly all about sin? Did we take up arms one last time all for those claims to be tossed into a bin? I don’t know. . . Maybe, in the end, it was a war that has never been. The long forgotten. . . His Excellency, LEONID MARCO D’ARKENT KORTREVICH, Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska, Patron of All Art, Master of Art, Archivist of Koravia, Knight of The Order of The Crow, “Orcbani”, “The Poet Marshal”, War Poet.
  3. ~-=-=-=-~ A man rode into battle with his little brother by his side... Little did a man know how cold it would be that night... The bridge drawn, the gates closed, and a man's advisors cried... All a man knew what to do was charge forward and fight... But what did that fight cost? A man did not know... Fight on they did and charge forth they would toe to toe... A man was knocked off of his horse and he was struck low... A man's little brother led the charge - now was his turn to go... When the night was over, there came a chill... Screams were heard from the distance as the wind howled through the frills... A man was dug from a certain grave upon a snowy hill... The day was lost, and he did not get his revenged fulfilled... Recovery... Awakening... Rest... Then pain... That was all that happened to a man when he heard of the younger's name... ~-=-=-=-~
  4. Somewhere, far away, in a different plane of existence. . . perhaps it was the seven skies, or perhaps another area. Regardless, a man dawning a yellow and black headband, holding a thick cut cactus green cigar in one hand and a fishing pole resting on the opposite shoulder, would look down over the horizon as he saw one of the few people, he ever loved and cherished settle down into a more peaceful life. Their time was coming to a close, as the new generation started to enter, and lead, the fold. His mismatched eyes glazed over as a stray tear escaped him. "In another life. . ."
  5. Marshals Orders #B02 OPERATION: BLOODY GATE I WOULD HAVE DIED HAD I NOT PERSISTED Issued by THE LORD MARSHAL on this 18th of Gronna Ag Droba, 516 E.S. MISSION TITLE: OPERATION BLOODY BRIDGE OBJECTIVES: EXHAUST THEIR FORCES AND, IF WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY ALLOWS IT, ENVELOP THE SIEGING FORCE. COMMENCEMENT DATE: 18th of Gronna ag Droba PARTICULARS: OPERATION BLOODY BRIDGE will encompass three main PHASES. This is following the SHADOW RAIDER siege on CASTLE MORTVESKIN, with raiders taking the MUMMERS GATE and occupying the bridge. OPERATION BLOODY BRIDGE shall commence during the crack of dawn and occur during broad daylight. PHASE ONE shall include a harassment force composed of THE BROTHERHOOD OF SAINT KARL, ORDER OF THE CROW, THE RYCHWALD BAND, and AUXILIARIES. Heavy Foot Infantry shall be referred to as Task Force “CARBARUM” led by LORD MARSHAL LEONID, with subcommanders SER MIKHAIL VALKONEN leading the cavalry and GREIRET leading the skirmishers. Phase shall commence upon immediate arrival to MUMMERS GATE. Task Force “CARBARUM” will charge forward, equipped with alchemical weapons and lanterns. Light is a key strategy to success. End of PHASE ONE. PHASE TWO shall commence immediately after PHASE ONE. LORD MARSHAL LEONID shall lead heavy infantry force to DRAWBRIDGE with a light man-operated battering ram. SER MIKHAIL Valkonen shall combine cavalry and assist as a reserve for battering ram crew. Meanwhile, GREIRIT shall mount horses and ride beneath the bridge and over to vulnerable points in the vicinity of the castle gatehouse. They shall take position and form shield wall as they advance forwards. End of PHASE TWO. PHASE THREE shall have Task Forces unite into one united front, referred to as “DAEMONSTEEL”. Order is given by LORD MARSHAL LEONID to take MUMMERS GATE for TOTAL ANNIHILATION. The envelopment of SHADOW RAIDERS will occur on the bridge. Enemy forces shall be packed so tight they will be unable to raise shields in defense. Mercy shall be given to all non-combatants and selected living soldiers of deemed importance, most notably the enemy commander known as TYR. End of PHASE THREE. FOLLOWING THE ASSAULT THE BANNERS HOISTED BY THE SHADOW RAIDERS WILL BE BROUGHT. ALL WEAPONS AND ARMOR WILL BE SEIZED. ALL CAPTIVES WILL BE RETURNED TO VALDEV FOR INTERROGATION. END OF BRIEF. YOU WILL MEET US AT THE BLOODY BRIDGE. NO ONE INVADES HANSETI-RUSKA. CRP EVENTLINE @Sarven @Miniguy15736 OOC DEFAULT TIME: FEBRUARY 10TH, SATURDAY 4:00PM EST//9:00PM GMT
  6. Marshals Report #C01 REPORT: THE PUNISHMENT OF ARTHUR BURKE I WOULD HAVE DIED HAD I NOT PERSISTED Issued by THE LORD MARSHAL on this 15th of Wzuvar ag Byvca, 516 E.S. REPORT TITLE: THE PUNISHMENT OF ARTHUR BURKE OBJECTIVE: CLARIFY ANY FALSEHOODS PARTICULARS: TO THE HOLY SER GERARD AND HOLY ORDER OF ST. JUDE: It is my full intention to clarify the falsehoods that I can prove to be false in your report. ON THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN DEIA AND ARTHUR BURKE. Former Footman Arthur Burke was reported to me by Miss Deia herself, and Her Royal Majesty, that the disgraced Arthur Burke stalked and harassed the handmaiden on numerous occasion. With many witnesses present, including Ser Garen Baruch who aided me in his punishment, Footman Burke was charged with stalking and harassment, with the punishment being lashings equaling to the number of people present in the room multiplied by the number of incidents he was charged with. In the end, he was sentenced to 42 lashings in the public eye and forbidden to seek out Deia afterwards. Why would a woman who has a supposed relationship with a man also accuse said man of stalking? The claim that they are in a relationship, I have deemed and proven, to be FALSE. If justice is what you seek, then you must do so with the correct, and updated, sources. End of Report.
  7. “I don’t know why I stick my head into things, I just end up getting stuck!” ~-=-=-~ When will I find it? No really - when will it come to me? Has it buried itself? Deep inside some pit? Do they have legs that run away and flee? -=-=- I do not understand. . . I have mined, mined and mined in that den. . . What will it take to find this coveted gem? . . . What I would do to see that crystal shine again. . . -=-=- It's my fault. It HAS to be! Have I misplaced it? Hidden in some chest? Why else would that shimmering light not be seen? Useless. . . no matter how hard I try or do my best. -=-=- Could it be stolen? Vanished in elusory? Is it something so bright that my eyes can’t bear to see? Placed away in a high place like a tree? Glowing so bright that the sun blocked its shine from me. . -=-=- BUT I NEED IT! Oh do I need it so. . . Why must my diamond be stripped! It has become an obsession, no - my greatest foe! Is this venture worth the tempting dip? -=-=- Do I need it though? Wait. . . is this something that I can forgo? No, this can’t be right. Hold on - oh. . . I realize. . . Is losing my gem the only way I grow? -=-=- No! I refuse. That can’t be right! This isn’t over, this is not the end! I have never given up, not without words or a fight! Only question is. . . This fight. . . will stop. . . when? ~-=-=-~ [!] Copies of the poem would find itself spread throughout the Kingdoms, but a personal copy of the poem would be sent to one person in particular as it was tied around a ring box. “To Ioanna” His Excellency, LEONID MARCO D’ARKENT KORTREVICH, Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska, Patron of All Art, Master of Art, Archivist of Koravia, Knight of The Order of The Crow, “Orcbani”, “The Poet Marshal”, War Poet.
  8. OOC NAME: erictafoya11 IRP NAME: Ser Leonid Kortrevich DISCORD: erictafoya
  10. [!] A rough depiction of the corpse of a man not many have cared to notice. The day was fresh and new. A man trudged along the northern forests smelling of fish and doo, holding nothing but his old, original, fishing pole and a twisted leaf filled with green. There was a strange feeling in his stomach. Something wasn’t right. . . He was hungry! It was another day, another krawn for the young fisherman apprentice. He was fourteen, alone, homeless, and stunk of fish guts. As the highborn children played games and gossiped in the old tavern, the alienated teen slammed his heavy net of fish of all sorts onto the table. As time went on, and the apprentice rid the fish of their entrails in public view, all of the children left. All except one. All except her. Fish. Reliable, high in protein, and sustainable. When living alone in his youth, nobody ever gave him a second glance. No one ever offered him water to drink, or fish to eat. Eventually, he even resorted to thievery. He stole not food, but a simple stick with a string and hook attached to it. It was not enough to feed a town, but plenty for the starving child. “Those were the days”, relented the now sixty year old man. This day marked the 50th year he was alone. Perhaps he didn’t need a companion, perhaps he only needed fish and orcish kief. A long journey lay ahead of the now experienced fisherman, now turned salesman. It was a new city, new opportunities, and a new image. He called it ‘The Dream’. His debut came on the day of debutantes. Royals and peasants alike loved his recipe of fish. However, the prospect of free cod roused suspicion, and apparently, enough suspicion to have him removed from the palace premices. They all sneered, whispered, and gossiped about the outcast. All except one. All except her. Fire popped and embers rose from the pit. For some odd reason, it was warmer in the north. How strange. . . Has spring come early? It didn’t matter. All that mattered to him now was that the war that plagued the once cold land had come to a bloodless conclusion. With that messy ordeal done and the war over, he could rest easily knowing that his friend was safe. That she was safe. “Politics? You want me to get into politics?” The royal fisherman looked up towards the Duchess of Valwyck in confusion. He was not an educated man, let alone a smart one. His short time spent in libraries was used to sell snacks for the younger scholars. Perhaps he was meant to be more than just some fisherman. Perhaps he was finally going to escape his endless pit of loneliness. No longer would he have to sit alone for hours on end at the side of a bridge. When the day came, the man nearing thirty collected the most votes. It was astonishing. How could a random fisherman dominate an election with many educated individuals running against him? Who knew? Who cared? “It’s probably nothing”, the fisher thought. After all, business was poor and his pockets even poorer. In the end no one truly cared about him. No one ever talked or conversed with him, or others like him for that matter. No one did. All except one. All except her. Cactus Green. It was the orcish variety. The normal stuff was tame, too tame. The elder needed something to take the edge off from the stresses of the world. It was a poor addiction his old friends, now long dead or forgotten, warned him of. Regardless, he was still an avid user of the herb. It was exhausting his retirement funds, exhausting his health, but he still yearned for more. It became a dangerous obsession, but he was obsessed with many things. The green. . . fish. . . h- Suddenly, his head snapped as he noticed loud noises in the distant hill south of his position. Curious. . . What was going on today? The Peoples Duma. A failing institution settling into a new world. Somehow, and in some way, a fisherman not only landed himself into politics, but found himself leading it. The Grand Alderman was once a homeless fisher boy from Karosgrad. Despite the honors of holding such an office for over a decade, he despised it. It caused him much stress to a worrying degree. His personal habits became worse and even impacted his performance. At one point, he found himself running the fastest general election in the Kingdom’s history, with candidates being chosen, votes being cast, and results being announced all within the span of an hour. It didn’t help that there was a session to be held afterwards. It was too much for him. By the grace of it all, his worries would soon be resolved as the true leaders, the likes of Lord Speaker Otto Ludovar, took control of the situation. It was a resounding sigh of relief for him and the kingdom. Who could blame him? He was, afterall, just an ordinary man. Not even educated informally let alone to the highest degree. The man spent more time in the royal kitchens and developing menus than he did writing bills that would impact the lives of the population. It was a calm and relatively normal life. The man could not handle that sort of stress all at once. He’d rarely ever seen that kind of resolve in anyone. All except one. All except her. The screams resounded and the madman dashed as fast as he could! Armed with nothing but a sword, a fishing rod, and cactus green, the fisherman chose to hold the pole in one hand and green in the other. He was clearly mad, he knew he was risking his life, but he ran towards danger regardless. And then, he saw. . . Retirement. It was the only way he could ever escape into a life he wanted to live. The life of foraging and living off of nature’s grace. There were successors lined in his place, as now he was an old man. A young Marian Blackwood, now Weiss, continued politics. The Boy Baron Henrik Amador took his seat in the unified Duma. Finally, his days of public service were over. In what he thought would be his final act of any importance, the unknown man raised a boy from homelessness after a daring fishing trip, and transformed the lad into a fine chef in his own right. This was it. This was his lasting legacy. He would abandon it all for a life of calm and tranquil simplicity. All of it. Well. . . All except one. All except her. -A mass of poor and desperate bandits fought atop the hills of Waltonburg. The Triumphant King himself rallied a tired band of warriors in the hopes to drive the men off, and rescue his Queen. The fisherman was furious. After peace arrived to all of humanity, she was still a target. Still in danger. . . Shouting on the edge of the hill, the common man under influence screamed towards the mighty King at top of his lungs “WHAT THE F-” This wasn’t the expected outcome. A victory? In a duel against the leader of warriors? He was an old and retired fisherman. The Veletzian townsfolk and warriors looked at the man in awe, as he helped up the defeated Marshal Hendrik Van Aert. By the sheer grace of either luck or newfound skill, an unimportant fisherman single-handedly rescued the beloved People’s Queen. He did it, not for reward, or for whispered rumors of affection, but because his closest friend was in danger of death. There was nothing beating him that day. He would kill a thousand Marshals if he had to. No one could have stopped him. All except one. All except her. -UCK IS GOING ON?! ONE JOB!” The audacity. . . And to a King no less? Well, no one really taught him courtly manners, and the man was so far gone from society he doubted if he would ever be let back at all after a comment like that. He didn’t care, nor plan on it. His victory in politics. . . his triumph against the enemy Marshal. . . his very survival to sixty years of age. . . all of it was just luck. For his entire life he relied only on luck and lived on it. In that desperate battle for life, the man somehow impacted lives, inspired bards and poets. . . he even made a few friends along the way. None were closer to him than her. He would soon find himself close to her one, final, time as a bandit sought to slay the Queen in his dying breath. There were no sounds of glory. . . No screams or warnings. . . There he stood, a man who either had nothing to lose or nothing at all, as he lept towards his world. In the end, as he tumbled down the hill with a sword in his lung, alongside his wounded friend, he died as he lived. . . Homeless Filthy Unknown Unimportant And- [!] A note would be found bloodied next to the dead fisherman’s wound. By sheer luck, it seemed the letter’s envelope was only bloodied, but not the parchment itself. When opened, it read simply: “Ami, In my lifetime of knowing you, I realized that you were always the one saying thank you to me, and not the other way around. Today I return from my fishing trip, and I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you, for everything. Know that if I had to do it all again without a single word of gratitude, that I would work just as hard. It was never for me, or for the Kingdom. It was just you. It was always only for you. Your far, yet close friend, Timmy” For her. -=-=-=- REST IN PEACE TO A LOYAL FISHERMAN KNOWN AS TIMOFEI “TIMMY, THE KING WHO STAYED AND EMPEROR OF FISH” PETROVICH
  11. The Poet Marshal returned with his retinue of bloodied, bruised, but living new brothers in arms. It was a great hunt indeed. . . and even greater injuries were sustained. As he stepped away from the clinic, with a clear limp present in his step, the man in bloodied armor saw women crying in the streets, young men rejoicing, and the elderly sighing as they found their peace. It was only when he returned to the council chambers did he find out that finally, it was over. . . No longer did he have to send new faces to the fields of an endless war. No longer did his people have to suffer, at least not from this foe. . . No longer did he see the faces of his soldiers grow younger and younger. Finally, they can grow up in a time of peace. . . Finally, the war was over. . .
  12. Marshals Mandate #A01 OPERATION: BROTHERS REVENGE I WOULD HAVE DIED HAD I NOT PERSISTED Issued by THE LORD MARSHAL on this 15th of Wzuvar ag Byvca, 515 E.S. [SPOILER] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agLb5mdX7LQ&ab_channel=GreatestEpicMusic MISSION TITLE: OPERATION BROTHERS REVENGE OBJECTIVES: RESCUE ALL CAPTIVES AND ANNIHILATE THE RAID CAMP COMMENCEMENT DATE: 16th of Gronna ag Droba PARTICULARS: OPERATION BROTHERS REVENGE will encompass three main PHASES during the same battle. This is following a raid on WALTONBURG, with raiders destroying the village and taking hostages. OPERATION BROTHERS REVENGE shall commence at the crack of dawn and occur during broad daylight. PHASE ONE shall include a harassment force composed of THE BROTHERHOOD OF SAINT KARL, ORDER OF THE CROW, THE RYCHWALD BAND, and AUXILIARIES. Full frontal force shall be referred to as Task Force “CARBARUM” led by LORD MARSHAL LEONID. Phase shall commence upon immediate arrival of RAIDER ENCAMPMENT. Task Force “CARBARUM” will charge forward on the EASTERN wall using a battering ram and shield wall formation, with the support of archers in the rear. Once breach has been successful, “CARBARUM” shall retreat to TREELINE. End of PHASE ONE. PHASE TWO shall commence immediately after PHASE ONE. It shall include an extraction team composed of the usual force. Extraction team shall be referred to as Task Force “HAMMER FIST” led by SER MIKHAIL VALKONEN. Phase shall commence with a given signal of [INFORMATION REDACTED]. “HAMMER FIST” is tasked with PRIMARY OBJECTIVE finding and extracting all prisoners safely and without detection. SECONDARY OBJECTIVE shall be to capture a living RAIDER if deemed safe & possible by SER MIKHAIL VALKONEN. Upon completion of PRIMARY OBJECTIVE, “HAMMER FIST” shall retreat back to the entrance way and rendezvous and merge with “CARBARUM”. Once the group is united, a few remaining team members of “HAMMER FIST” shall escort prisoners to safety. End of PHASE TWO. PHASE THREE shall commence after the safety of prisoners are assured. Task Forces merge into one united front, referred to as “CARBARUM HAMMER”. Order is given by LORD MARSHAL LEONID to assault RAIDER ENCAMPMENT for TOTAL ANNIHILATION. Mercy shall be given to all non-combatants and selected living soldiers of deemed importance. End of PHASE THREE. FOLLOWING THE ASSAULT THE ENCAMPMENT SHALL BE BURNED TO ASH AND DUST, WITH ALL SLAIN ENEMIES WITH IT. ALL CAPTIVES WILL BE RETURNED TO VALDEV FOR INTERROGATION. END OF BRIEF. YOU HAVE TAKEN OUR BROTHER. WE WILL HAVE OUR REVENGE. CRP EVENTLINE @Sarven @TheWhiteWolf OOC DEFAULT TIME: FEBRUARY 3RD, SATURDAY 6:00PM EST//11:00PM GMT
  13. The Poet Marshal looked over the song and. . . he didn't even know how to feel. Angry? Proud? Both?! One thing was for certain. . . "A promotion ceremony it is."
  14. The Poet Marshal smiled brightly as his Battle Bard composes a tune so great that even he couldn't execute it that effortlessly.
  15. The One-Armed Poet Marshal prepares many new sets of initiate armor and uniforms for the relatively large retinue of Kovachev levymen.
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