helldiving

It truly saddens me to see you go. . .

please i need one of these +1

Antonius Vilac chuckles in disbelief, now known as Ralph, a proud member of the ISA; his features veiled as he once more, gets away with it- a shameful display of ignorance and lack of order and proper restrictions from the so called 'empire' of humandom. He extends the transcript to Simon Pruvia, the pair find such foolishness a most feeble act, and so the pair prepare to morph their facial faculties and deceive the imperials once, twice, thrice. It is rather simple.

I actually saw you

"Mamej, sorry- mamej- mamej- sorry? mamej- sorry. . ?" @clonky

Therein most azureous terrains did a lone rider find his arrival within the remnants of Fenn in declivity; divergent from a common-known snowfall. The winds howled, menacingly in defiance of the environ, a challenge- the artificial vortex soon forced the rider into the nearest tavern, seeking homage and coverage from the wintery-wrought enrapturement within the region. Cold, a frigid evolving torrent that he barely had managed to make escapade if not at the behest of warmth betwixt the fief.

MC Username: Milenkhov RP Name: Ivar Tournament: All

Antonius Vilac lights Olivier Renault and Sigismund III's cigars with dragonsflame.

very epic werewolf woo

reserved

Onyx; coal-black features, wrought from the inner flame of a dragonkin pranced in joyous contemplation of the upcoming events. The visions, dreams of his three-eyed sibling, nightmares to those unknown. Ashes on the fire.

"Simply put, indubitably so - was there ever any doubt?" comments Antonius Vilac to his regarded friend Simon Pruvia.

The Grandmaster of Caer Cath takes notice of this plea, issuing word to some fellow erudites and adventurers before aiming to seek out the beleaguing nightmares that cloud the Baron's mind, these ill omens at hand. "Take a glance, Edmond." @Quantumatics

ENTRY SLIP The form attached needs to be filled out and handed in within the next Saint week to obtain a stall or participate in the public events. MC Name: Milenkhov RP Name: István Company Name(if applicable): N/A Discord: m.#3309 Will you be participating in the Regatta?: YES Will you be participating in the Brawl?: YES Timezone (EST, GMT, etc.): EST

I SHAN'T GO To my fettered mind I abhor this type of insulting behavior. Accumulated thoughts of your absence culminate not in ill tidings, for I have hope, akin to your joyous embrace when you first saw me within the havens of Aaz Hahdrim. An amaranthine determination that in the future, you and I will be reunited. If an antecedent of mine was turmoil and rushed departures, I promised I would beleague my mind and avert the same pain I once inflicted you and my brethren. The assay result of my search and that of your persistent herald; Tiuthwyn proved naught. Your mind did not end to bemuse me, to bewilder or confuse, to preoccupy; engross. We were so different but we had become so familiar, so similar. You, Helinathe -- an angel in a painting -- with a beatific smile and balmy enjoyment that exuded through our days. Circadian, like a recurring cycle on a twenty-four-hour I search for you, I yearn for that presence, the same I created a cleft upon. My consternation grows by the hour, I barely sleep and have time for my own thoughts, inquiries and intrigue, nothing seems to do it, no conviviality, but copious doubt renders from my lips. My Zey’mah has no answers, my father vaguely explains. Must I seek you furthermore, or must I forget and move along? I conflict with my own, you became my cynosure, that center of attention, for I lost Eluitholnear, and I saw him; we spoke. When I had failed, the cold embrace of stone began to calm my inner flame, a quiet knife impaling my torso, for my eyes to shut for an eternity to come. “What do you think you are doing, fool.” the voice recoiled within my ears, hissing daggers at my approach. He was so familiar, so tall, his presence calmed my aching, he beckoned me, though his nature was forlorn. Eluitholnear, The Inquisitor Eternal was different, not quite ashen, but wrought of stones. Minutes prior, I had made the best attempt to extinguish my inner flame, by any means possible. I had lost purpose, I had lost sense and touch, the realm felt not the same as it did with his presence; their presence. That of Oliver Helane, my dear cousin, that of Vivyne Ravexi, my sister. The brood of the Archdrakaar. As my flames began to falter, my body began to ache, burning, burning, burning -- no more -- my gaze flickers, the smokes are no longer the ashen clouds that surround me in a prolific veil. Should I yield to these unconquerable odds? the uncanny oddity that my path had turned to? I answered solemnly; immortality no more. The terrific hues of gold that once plastered themselves upon my countenance had faltered, and I realized that lethargic and crippling miasma that knocked me to the slumbering cold. I had ended my path, to be in another realm, in another plane, it mattered little for I would be at peace with whom I addressed as sibling; Eluitholnear. I fought. . . Finding myself in this obscurity, the azureus skies and sense of depression, malignity and decadence. This otherworldly penumbra wrought of coldness and stones. I lost. . . Succumbing to the unnerving desperation, for in this terrain I was not the scion of the Titan, nor the Prince of Promise I was once garbed with renown. “There is no light in the void. Stand now, errant fool. You will not succumb to the timeless halls.” “Brother. . .” “Do not waste my time, you fool. I gave you a gift, and you do not use it. That very mace that has seen bloodshed and rage. You famished, weak dog, unwilling to commit to your eternal life.” “Eluitholnear. . .” “Do not speaketh the name that you do not respect. For if you fall now, progress will be lost, and all will be in vain.” “Is this Asioth. . ?” “You will be headless, and my spectre shall haunt you forever. Speaketh again, and let it be the last time you boldly appear before me.” The titanborne Nephilim of yore, that man of legend and renown remained still -- wretched and obtuse -- in anticipation of my words, yet a knot formed on my throat. He was my brother, my pride, my peer, one that I would look up to and cherish with no remorse. “Antonius” he barked as this realm of lethargic eternity began to manifest visions of eras bygone. Memories, fate, unchained, ever-looming and ready to be changed, much true, yet easily corrupted and fragmented into the insecure. He showed me the reason, the reason I had returned, the reason I was truly -- not -- gone. Vivid imagery of my sister and kin, of the Exalted Kharajyr Haskir, of the erudite and aged Arstan Bedell, who’s sight once was withheld, of the rambling Raev, and his hatred for the elves, Gamling, Arthonath and his masterful prowess. The Doomforged and Eleanore So many, but the others, no more? So little time for thought. I felt the heaviness of their souls, those who would remain if I was not more. . . Qahnaarin. . . If only, if only you would have remained a lordling, with your fief and promises, with your kin and a future of auspice and prosperity, perhaps none of this would have happened. Maybe you would have become a Duke, or even better. . . O’ Simon Pruvia. I venerate your determination, your never-ending desire for more, that mettle that I can compare with little men of this realm. Even with that cleft in your eye, you truly uphold yourself to be a remarkable, renowned warrior, aspiring for your ascension, and so willingly I would have done. The Inquisitor was still Eternal, for he said much with little words -- there was more -- much more battles, much more loss, and if I had drowned in that sunken abyss, I would have proven to be a coward, and far more. That terrible realization came rushing more, for the statue was long gone, and instead I saw him, Elui, can you believe it Viv? chained up by shackles, restrained by means that I could not destroy, how I wished to break the binds, wrought by the sin from other Azdrazi long gone. This realm, deadpan and terribly ravaged by his pain made me understand, and lastly did my brother speak. “Look at me, ignorant brother. Stare at the very chains wrought from dragon’s sin. I carry the burden of you, and of your brothers. Stare at me for eternity, where these unbreakable bonds force me to beckon the earth; a statue unable to move, carried by his most hated brothers. I am sin and vice. I feel the pain of a thousand deaths. I feel the emotions of a thousand brothers. I am abhorred. I am worse than the Archdrakaar; I am the tyrant, the Undoer, the Pitiful, the King of Nothing. You are selfish, for you wish to strike me with a thousand more deaths. You are selfish, for you wish to ruin me for a thousand years more.” For it was not once, twice and thrice - but a thousand daggers that inflicted the soaring pain on Eluitholnear. Every-perished dragonkin simply tortured that lonely, embraced by solitude and desolation man. If I were to fail now, it would only fragment the petrified King, the Hero of promise, that ruler of the realm below for the winged father that reigns from above. I finally understood my selfishness, and my cowardice even more, and before I could kneel and ask for forgiveness I became dallied, unsullied from the soil and rendered to another form. And now I will get up and fight again. . . In the dunes of the southern reaches, where the men of Savoy erected their fief of grandiose I woke, stunned, exhausted and barely clinging to what remained of my pride and flames. Did Eluitholnear rescue me from the grasp of death? was my immortality a boon I took for granted? how I wished to see you there, and tell you about this, yet I could not, for I felt ashamed, yet you appeared with much jubilance after we were reunited in Aaz Hahdrim. It matters not. For I know that you will appear again, or maybe -- I will -- simply find you before you find us. If only you could hear me, if only I could tend you, if only I could right the wrongs, and avenge Eluitholnear, becoming a better brother for you, for the heralds, the ordained and the overlord. That is my purpose, this is my burden, this is my promise. I will find you, Helinathe. Wherever you are. . .

IGN: Milenkhov RP NAME: Antonius Antonius would do a certain dance in the prince's @Lionbileti chambers, preparing for the event.

The noble Prince of Vilachia stared onwards at the hefty orenian congregation, steering his gaze towards the Lord Simon Pruvia with solemn features. “This fight will enervate us.” He muttered silently, flocking his rear side onto the saddle of his horse and swiftly turning away, watching as the orenian rally chased his persistent bait. As he routed the foolish criminals that attempted to entice the Lord Simon Pruvia without trial or proper conduct, and as he turned to face them with a smouldering gaze, the orenian-party was already half-way across the field, running away from the two men; they were outrallied, yet more fearless. Antonius remembered a certain Helane on that very moment, and images of the fallen Azdrazi monarch Oliver rushing them down with his brothers in-charge caused a silent prayer to be hushed. Upon returning to the site, he only noticed the scampering party hiding amongst their marble keep walls, likely out of fear and trepidation for the duo. “You have committed the most foulest and vile crime; the act of foreboding against almighty GOD — let it be penance that strikes you down. It was our great Lord Simon Pruvia that brought justice and serenity to the mantles and halls of the nation, and now he is to be attacked by a pack of rabid dogs of the state, without proper trial, nor the conduct to assert his innocence. Lest it be the justice of GOD that smites you down.” The Vilac turned heel, allowing for the fearful, shivering party to continue hiding in their decrepit walls. He was not as surprised, for a man on horse scared a dozen of orenian armed-soldiers.

me

r

i wrote this btw he stole it from my google doc i have proof contact me on discord m.#3309 please mods take this down hes plagiarising me!!!

i wrote this btw

*becomes a knight of Xan with @Werew0lf!!!