helldiving

Prince Antonius gazed at the Ruberni congregation before him. As he mounted his steed the Vilachian Corsair smirked – knowing that this was going to be an easy victory as always; whether it was Orenians, Haensemen or Reivers, Antonius knew that they were no match for his skills in the field, the fray of battle was tense for the enemy, but the Vilac fought with ease, dozens of foes slain by him and his flanking retinue. The Pertinaxi legacy upheld by the Pirate.

Antonius remembers the good exchange of words he had with one of the Reivers after they were defeated ”You done?”

THE HAENSE-REIVER FOLLEY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRVIk-6BO74 Credit to Arcean for the POV, credit elsewhere for editing & uploading. The low stampede of a small army marched down the road, their destination? The bastion of Morsgrad. Woe to the souls who think they can march upon such a bastion, with blind courage they sallied forth upon the road to take the fight to the AIS. One may say it is courageous, brave even. Yet, others will argue that they are being suicidal. Daniel, Antonius, Augustus and their new ally James Suffolk marched from within Morsgrad to meet the enemies on the field. The AIS retinue lined with Morsgradi, Suffonians, Ruberni & more, stared them down within the field. “Laughable group” chortled Daniel as he drew his blade, signaling his men forward. The enemy force mainly comprised of Reivers & Haensemen, some of them even boasted before the encounter that this would be their strongest force they could wield; that it was destined to crush the AIS force of equal size. Then it began, a war-cry sussonated within the AIS ranks and they made their charge towards the enemy. As has happened so many times before, shields clashed against shield as both forces fully committed to an endearing fight, but before the fight was even over - the enemy Reiver cavalry pulled out of the battlelines, retreating into the distance as fear crippled their ranks. Taking this advantage, the AIS forces made a final push against their opponents to bring them to death once more. Cheers exploded within the AIS ranks, for this marked the sixth victory out of six large skirmishes for the AIS. Doctor Daniel ‘The Artist’ depicts art of the event.

Milenko I Antonius accepts the duel in the name of his allies and prepares to act as a Champion “Oren die, Haense die.”

“Times of Adrian Sarkozy were different, a better Empire than what you praise now. Fools – Peter III is nowhere near what the Lord Protector once was, despite our allegiances and past affiliations we all recognized him as the protector of the realm, while this drunken fool’s army gets butchered, and his government crumbles. Unstable? Adrian was the closest you ever had to stable.” remarked Prince Antonius, after slashing through a dozen of what appeared to be a new breed of Orenian Reivers.

“Truly a man of GOD.” said the Most Beneveolent servant; Antonius as he peered upon the thesis.

Antonius prepares to roam the roads like his ancestors did.

THE BATTLE OF RUBERNI-STEPS The prominent Orenian figure had just been dispatched, crushed beneath the boot of the good Duke Godric, a second rescue party - clearly too late - mounted upon strong steeds pulled their reins and came to a halt at the steps of Rubern. Reivers & Orenians looked upon the retinue of soldiers, hailing from all corners of the AIS. They looked tired, blood stained their armour and swords, no respite between fights had been afforded to them. Perhaps it was this that made confidence surge through the veins of the Reiver-Orenian force. Easy-pickings upon exhausted soldiers. Though, the fight would not be as easy as expected for the aged Prince Persus Helane stood out from the rest of the AIS, barking orders for a charge. The charisma of the commander had rejuvenated the spirits of the AIS combatants and a charge was made. A long fight commenced, back and forth cavalry attacks - hammer and anvils, there was all sorts of long, draining tactics to be perceived upon this battle. Though, as the sun was setting the last of the horsemen were felled from their steed and killed. Let this mark the third victory out of three that had been acquired by the AIS today. ((20 vs 20, gf.))

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAH.” said Antonius Vilac as he performed such complicated moves with his body!

Antonius cackles after slaying them!

“Peter III Anthony, Holy Orenian Puppet. You have grown thin, less than a shadow. Less than a man – you’ve sentenced yourself. You’re but a hound of the Carrion, the black sheep of the Pertinaxi, a mockery of a Horen-dynast – I will be the sword strung above your head, your fate is sealed, we will know who’s truly afraid now.” states Antonius as he prepares his fleet of fearsome corsairs and pirates within the Arcasian coast.

The King of Cascadia watches from the skies as he mumbles down to the Renault that was once his brother-in-arms “Told you Isaac.”

The Chosen Warrior of Luara smiles upon the news from his friend; the Sohaer Dimaethor Elervathar

‘change da world my final message. Goodbye.’ conveys surrealism. It uses classic video game imagery of our past along with the windows 95 start up to bring a sense of nostalgia. The synth in the background messes with the 7th 9th chords in a progression that feels unearthly. The meme is a work of art. I wish more people would create more surrealism

Antonius prepares his war-ship to raze the Grotto to ashes – The Dreaded Corsair remarks before his crew “They are playing with fire, and they are getting burned.”

LOL THAT MARK SKYNOR A SNEAKY FELLA))

Ser Rodrik cackles from atop his steed, remembering how he crushed Haense to pieces during the war of the two emperors, but of course – those are memories of another time...

15th of Snow’s Maiden, 1739 The Mother landing on the icebergs of Morsgrad A stormy night fell over the mountain of Morsgrad, thunder echoing through the icy crevasse as an otherwise noiseless night continued on, until a hooded rider approached the gates, torch in hand as he dismounted. As he did so, within the icy seas to the north of Morsgrad, a ship gets as close as possible without sinking. A small rowboat was detached from the ship, as two men began rowing ashore to Morsgrad. Upon reaching the frigid land, the two men took off their hoods, revealing themselves to be the true sons of Martius Horen, Augustus and Antonius Vilac. The pirates of the Pertinax made their way through the unknown snowy tundra, as the rider had now arrived within Morsgrad. The rider made way to the tavern with a small missive hidden within his cloak. The man, obviously terrified, began attempting to take the edge off of the situation - tension certainly overwhelming his thoughts. He had known this day would come since the day he proclaimed himself patriarch. Yet, it had come too soon nevertheless. The legitimate children of Martius began their entrance into the city, meaning to greet their cousins and new brothers in arms. Upon the brother’s entrance into the city proper, the hooded rider made himself known to the two, clutching the letter they had sent him announcing their arrival. However, to them, he was no hooded stranger. The man was Janos Jrent, now Janos Vilac; the self-proclaimed bastard patriarch of the house of Vilac. In one hand Janos grasped the letter, and in the other, he grasped his nigh empty tankard of ale. He took the last swig of the drink, throwing it down onto the ground as he finished. Behind him stood the ever-burning Ashtree, his gaze locking upon the brothers as they entered the city. Janos took his glaive from off of his back, preparing to face the two corsairs in combat. He knew what he did, he had murdered Georgius; one of the legitimate sons of Martius. The two brothers drew arms, Augustus drawing a saber, and Antonius a parrying dagger with a serrated edge. “No more running, Johannes,” proclaimed Antonius- his arm gesturing for the man to face his fate. Janos began retreating, tears welling in his eyes as he continued backpedalling toward the palace. Upon entering the throne room they simply watched him shiver and continue to retreat, his glaive aimed at them while he moved. Janos lost his footing upon ascending the stairs of the throne room. He dropped his glaive, sending it clattering down the stairs as the brothers continued advancing on Janos. Seeing that his fate was now inevitable, the man began to beg. “Please… I don’t want to die.” He said, now sniffling as mucus began to fill his nostrils in panic. The coward had one last idea, however. He proclaimed, with bated breath, “I was wrong! I never should have taken the house…” He sobbed, before carrying on. “I declare you patriarch, Antón!” He said, beginning to wail. “Just… Please.” Janos had begun crawling backwards in fear of his half-brothers, eventually reaching a ledge leading straight down the mountain. However, the brothers had only obtained half of what they arrived in hopes to do. The two siblings continued advancing, Janos continuing to beg for his life as he cried. Janos knew there was only one way out of this situation, as he grappled with what he had to do. He took a small dagger out, plunging it into his chest as his final act. Augustus looked up into the sky, solemnly. “I am so sorry we could not do more, Borsa. We will meet again in the seven skies, Georgius.” He said, lamenting over his brother that Janos had slain. Upon looking down to the now lifeless body of Janos, the hidden missive had begun to peek its way out of his cloak. Antonius bent down and unfolded the parchment to begin reading. Antonius, I know things have not been civil between the two of us. However, I believe it is time for me to finally do right by my family. I have decided to abdicate my seat as the patriarch of House Vilac. I, Janos Vilac, hereby pass all my titles to my half-brother, Antonius Vilac. I am truly sorry for what I have done, and I can only hope you will forgive me for what I’ve done. Janos Vilac 13th of Snow’s Maiden, 1739

Otto Tuvyic uncorks a dozen bottles; their favorite beverage – one of crows, the Knyaz simply continued to drink, bottle after bottle, thoughts of his niece filling him with sorrow and pain “The young perish and we, the old, live...“

Milenko Horen pledges his blade to Veikko Harjalainen’s cause – woe to those peasants that oppose him...

my emperor... :fencer:

Milenko Horen smiles with the flank squad

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