helldiving

Prince Lucien found himself within the quarters afforded previously in the Nikirala-Prikaz. Thrice was his door knocked, as a courier garbed in the tapestry of Lvinsk arrived bearing the dire news; a missive - message and resolution, the conclusive, yet befitting end of the Margrave, the Lord Commander, a man of honour and loyalty unmatched. It was no doubt why the once prince-boy evolved into a man of such similar traits, oftenmost taking time to admire and bask upon the teachings and kindness he lacked in his youth. Borys Jazloviecki played an important role in many-a situation, in many tremoring ground, unconquerable odd and moment of dispair. A true bastion of virtue, a man worthy and familiar, akin to those from the Age of Heroes, heralded by the passing of time, bygone now by the subterfuge and macabre machinations once enacted upon humanity, 'pon the south. It was him. Borys and those around him who stood stalwart, gallant and with their heads high, prepared to face it all, again and again. Many memories remained beleaguing Lucien's mind, some auspicious, beautiful, some recent, some old. Was it yesterday, the day in which the young prince, heir-to-the-crown advanced to his halls, therein his erected castle, in which they shared word, pleasantries and high regard? Was it the previous day, that they stood against the rebellious entourage of usurpers, pretenders who saught to hide and point their arrows and bolts from the Daelish Isles? Had it been just weeks, when their bastion; San Luciano crumbled, and so did the will and dreams of Lucien culminated? Perhaps it was. Yet not only fate nurtured him out of such deprived and desolated state of mind. There were important men, there were unyielding figures who stood by his side, lifting what small lips of the prince could turn into simper. The wandering-knight; Gereon's Flame, Prince Emeritus simply sighed, bidding farewell to Princess Stefaniya momentarily, striding to their bedchamber, and as the door was locked, only then - tears - they streamed, enrapturing the features of Lucien to those of sorrow, sadness, pain ever aching upon his chest. As if a father-figure had perished, as if something deeper had been stripped from Lucien's torax, like a torn limb, ravaged body. The Prince sulked, solemnly staring at the ceiling for hours, and the hours turned day. The stream of tears did not come to an end, and soon he slept, weeping for the loss that not only the south had met, but that of humanity. "Why. . ?"

H E R E ‘ S YO U R P R O M I S E, P R I N C E “If I cannot prove my mettle as the King that my parents would have wanted, I would like for every Orenian, peer or commoner, to lay waste to that which I have built. I did not begin to build it for my parents. I do not try to build it for myself. I lay the cobbled foundation for the Reformed Kingdom of Oren, the Jewel of Almaris, for civility – for the Orenian people who have toiled, bled and perished for this great nation ever-lasting. Not the wanderlust of a derelict Empire that cannot stand upon the bending, fractured bones of its authoritarian regime. ” – Frederick I, King of Oren The King paced his chambers alongside many men and women of his conglomerate. The great host that arose to fight for the liberty of their fledgling country, the Kingdom of Oren. It had been Frederick’s dream since he was a boy to be a liberator, much as his own father, the late Philip III, Holy Orenian Emperor, had liberated Lower Petra from the Tripartite Coalition many years before. Royalist versus Imperialist, the King mused with an air of indifference. It mattered not to him how many foes he would have to face to liberate the Orenian people from the oppression of an Empire that had forgotten them. An Empire whose Divine Providence was tainted by the legacy of monarchs like Philip II and John VII. The words of his late mother rang in his ears with the raucousness of a thousand bells. “My friends and countrymen...” Frederick addressed his own chamber of echoing voices, consisting of many of his loyal peers of the newly forged kingdom who had come together under the red and white banner of his forebears. Never had there been such a great showing of force in modern history prior to the work of his father. “All that my brother has to work with-” the King proclaimed, a cocksure grin gracing his youthful, energetic complexion, “Are the Huntshills, whose saving grace will be surrendering to me after I end this treachery once and for all.” Frederick could see now as Queen Vivienne approached, standing tall and proud with his broad shoulders set. The man’s brow was creased just enough that his eyes showed themselves with the faintest hint of anxiety. “What is greater?” The raven-haired Queen asked her husband. “Five or one?” The granddaughter of Olivier de Savoie, Vivienne had more of a penchant for politics than would otherwise be assumed of her. Having acted swiftly in the hours after the occupation of Providence by her husband’s forces, the wily Vivienne quickly ensured political order was brought to the city and all functions of the municipal government remain operating as normal. Outside, the vast armies of the kingdom rallied and remained alert, occupying the city peaceably and sheltering the citizens of Providence from the Petrine Rebels who might be loosed from the confines of accursed Fort Linnord at any moment. “Mother always said I was quite dull when it came to arithmetic, but I can be sure that five is greater,” answered Frederick, raising an amused brow to his wife. “Well, it seems that your brother wasn’t taught to count, for he seeks to do battle with only a fifth of the men that you have!” She exclaimed, laughing with glee before an equally-amused crowd. Despite wishing to present the proud, stoic image of a king, Frederick could not help but crack a smile. He looked over to his new brother-in-law, the Prince-Emeritus Lucien of Savoy. The man, unlike the rest, stood silently, proudly, yet there was an aura of confidence that radiated from him as well. Suddenly, the former prince stepped forth, raising a fist to the air. “Silence, all ye goodmen!” He cried out to the gathering. The laughing died out in an instant. “Laugh all you wish when the war is over. For now, though, our aim is united on one matter, and one matter alone. This petty rebellion by Peter Augustus shall be put to an end, and the Kingdom of Oren shall ensure our people are not led to the darkness preached by those armed against us.” “Ave Orenia!” Cried a voice from the crowd. It belonged to Sir Gustaf, a newly-made knight of the Kingdom. “Ave Orenia!” “Ave Orenia!” “Ave Orenia!” Ave Orenia. Death to those who betray the will of the Aster Revolution. WARCLAIM Wargoal: Control over Oren Attackers: The Kingdom of Oren Defenders: The “Holy Orenian Empire” Field Battle: TBD Date/Time: April 30th, 3pm EST

The Prince Emeritus grins, inviting Karl Sigmar alongside as he brings his best garb.

"I don't think you will." Says HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Antonius 'Vilac' of the House of Staunton, by the Light of God, Emperor of Anovia, Forever August, King of Courland, of Lotharingia, Mardon, Hanseti, Ruska, Prince of Evreux, Duke of the Crownlands, Curon, Eastbourne, Courland, Eruthos, Frederica, Marna, Count of Beauclaire, Sundhold, Wett, Aleksandria, Riga, Johannesburg, Baron of Curonburg, Darkwood, Gravelhold, Supreme Protector of Man.

DEATH NO MORE 17th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 1868 It was a simple task: to root out the traitors to the Kingdom of Oren in what once was the old Empire’s Viscounty of Vuillermoz. Now, it was a refuge to those who sought chaos. As soon as the small retinue of Orenians led by Edmond de Rouen and Andrezj Barrow approached the keep, they began to search for entry points. The roof, they found, was simple enough. Andrezj Barrow approached the force as they came into view, and withdrew his sword with the others who had made their way into the keep. Those who had remained in opposition to King Frederick I were swiftly removed. Among them, two familiar faces revealed themselves: that of the Duke of Reutov, Ivan var Ruthern, and Sir Erik Othaman. Leading a small force, they bitterly fought against the Kingdom’s forces, but their staunch resistance could not keep way for long. In a fit of desperation, the Duke of Reutov summoned black magic to utilize against the men of Oren, but to no avail. Outnumbered, their forces fleeing, and the Kingdom’s army pressing down on them, the remaining forces of the pretender broke and fled. However, a small band, led by the Duke of Reutov, were caught between a reserve force, led by Sir Lachance of the Wilds, called up to join the fight. Surrounded, the men laid down their arms. Taken back to the capital, the Duke of Reutov was put on trial before the court of King Frederick. Although offered clemency, the dark magic used by the Duke brought distaste to the mouth of many. Additionally, he refused to recognize his nephew’s right to the throne, as dictated by the late Emperor and Empress. As such, the Duke received the death fit for traitors and denizens of the dark alike- a swift mace to the head. In the aftermath, the Countess of Halstaig and the Baron of Ames pledged their fealty to the King, bringing more swords to the cause of the rightful inheritor of Oren. A final warning is given to those who fight for the wrong side of this battle for the future of Oren. Beware all who still side with the pretender! Surrender yourselves to the true King of Oren and you shall be spared.

Lucien comments, side glancing Dmitry. "Yes, you should."

ISSUED AND CONFIRMED BY HIS SERENE HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF SAVOY Upon the 8th of Tobias Bounty in the Year of 1867 THE CROWN ENDURES The Abdication of His Serene Highness, Lucien of Savoy, “I am simply myself, no more and no less.” TO ALL OUR LOVING AND FAITHFUL SUBJECTS OF WHAT DEGREE AND RANK SOEVER, The Crown of Savoy in recent years since its reconstruction has ever been a fickle one, more akin to being made of thorns over gold. From a grandfather born to great machinations, to a father of an absent nation, it was the will and hope of the Prince of Savoy, Lucien, that the buck would stop and order be restored. In such a time, multiple plots and trials have been levied against him that most rulers do not face in a lifetime. The crown weighs heavy upon the head that wields it, yet as opposed to others who would sit upon their position and allow for it to degrade, the Prince has deemed fit to offer the people of Savoy a new leader who has the energy to rebuild. It is therefore the will of the Crown that Prince Lucien of Savoy abdicates the Savoyard throne to his sister, Princess Renata Adelina Ashford de Savoie. Her Serene Highness, Princess Renata Adelina, inherits the crown on account of the following; I. Her elder sister disinherited by her marriage to the Count of Mardon having not entered into a matrilineal marriage; II. Her younger brother, Olivier Guy de Savoie, being; i. Absent, or otherwise declared deceased by his disappearance; ii. Plagued with issues of the mind deeming him insane, and thus disinherited from the crown. III. Her proven loyalty to the Principality, having supported Prince Lucien resolutely during both traitorous attempts on his life and birthright. IV. Her proven competency to statecraft, as revealed during the reign of her brother. V. His Serene Highness, Lucien, in order to retain the humility and prestige of his house and position confirm for himself the following; VI. The bestowal of the titular County of Peremont, to be held by the Prince Emeritus until death, thereafter succeeded by his heirs. VII. A classic tunic personally sewn together by the personal hand of the new Princess, Renata Adelina, depicting a particularly angry savoyard bird. His Serene Highness, Lucien I, Prince of Savoy, Duke of Corazon, Count of San Luciano, Peremont and Sarissa, Baron of Brynnrose and etcetera Her Royal Highness, Renata Ashford de Savoie, Princess of Savoy

congratulations! : )

Lucien blinks, bobbing his head as he reads the missive. "To understand, and find wrong in oneself's utterings, ramblings - that - is a worthy trait, of an honourable man. A man of high-regard for the crown, kingdom and legacy of his familiar holds."

Lucien sustains and delivers wound to his adversaries. The day had been won, a crushing victory at the behest of united men of virtue adhered to GOD, he returns then, body aching, battered, bruised and bloodied. Jaw clenched as he mutters prayers to aid him in the tribulations to come. A bottle of Carrion Black in company of poetry granted in a remarkable tome gifted by Borris, the Lord Kortrevich kept him company in that stormy night. "No, now it ends."

Lucien endured much tribulation, much strange conditions upon his reign and current advances. The many attempt to enact subterfuge and chaos upon him and his peoples. The tension and confliction drove him a quiet, bitter man. Only his dearest of friends, the Grand Prince knew how to offer words of comfort and knowledge in the diring times of turmoil and tribulation. They both met in his quarters 'pon the Nikirala-Prikaz. Two tankards of Carrion Black were held in unison as they drank. After a lengthy exchange, Lucien sighed, reaching for his coat and making journey to the southern-gate of Karosgrad. The Prince of Savoy muttered under his cold breath, and Karl followed on his mare. "This is the countryside?" "Da, vy will enjoy it friend." "What do you think of the Lifstala?" And so the pair were lost within the woods. They began making way to a hill, and soon after, the azureous sky covered their advance and muffled that galloping, the flora reminded Lucien of his readings and sighted portraits of the Koengswald of yore.

A TRAGEDY IN THREE ACTS ISSUED AND CONFIRMED BY HIS SERENE HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF SAVOY, 10TH OF SUN’S SMILE, 1866 HARK YE AND BEAR WITNESS, IN THE FIRST, An attack on Our person, unwarranted and unexpected; by those We called cousin, aunt and uncle. Our ailing nation brought further into turmoil by the machinations of Imperial sinners. Yet We, GOD-fearing, ever-forgiving, took it to be a mistaken blow by irrational Men. IN THE SECOND, An attempt at a coup, irrational and irreverent of law and order; a betrayal in Our own home, by one We called sister, backed by the legions of the anathema. We prevailed, for Our blade is one guided by the determination of Our countrymen; yet they forced upon us the title of kinslayer to do so. This We cannot forgive. IN THE THIRD, A war ensues, A friend did we offer our leal service in their protection in a quarrel most honourable. Upon its conclusion, and our subsequent conquest: a betrayal most foul. For such action, a slap upon the wrist, whilst a clandestine pat on the back from a most ignoble Novellen and that Aurelian Brotherhood saught to condemn us. THEREFORE, LET IT BE SO, We see now that no amount of Our leniency seems dissuasion to the foul Novellen, who would turn sister upon brother - in jealousy, no doubt, of Our ability to befriend our siblings without the urge to bed them. Let Our blades be guided by His will, and Our shields fortified by His light. Consider this a declaration of WAR, plain and true; for the Sun need not skulk in the shadows. GOD-WILLING, HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Lucien I, Prince of Savoy, Duke of Corazon, Count of San Luciano, Peremont and Sarissa, Baron of Brynnrose, and etcetera.

A BROTHERLY PACT AIN SARNUVIK VALKSKEJ Agreed and established on this 5th of Wzuvar i Byvca, 419 ES | 10th of Snow’s Maiden, 1866 Between the KONGZEM OF HANSETI-RUSKA and the PRINCIPALITY OF SAVOY The Kingdom of Haenseti-Ruska and The Principality of Savoy hereby agree to join together as brothers in arms, a sign of brothers in faith during this time of unsettlement and uncertainty within the realm of Almaris. The ‘signatories’ as they will henceforth be referred to, agree to the following terms: I The signatories will recognise the sovereignty of each other's respective nations, and land. II The signatories will agree to not take up arms against one another for the duration of this pact and should issues arise, they will be solved through diplomatic means. III The signatories will agree that citizens from either nation will be safe and protected within either nation's lands, unless a law-breaking conflict were to arise. IV The signatories will agree to host tax-free stalls in each respective nation in order to promote the bonds of economic ties between one another. V The signatories shall assist each other in times of war and provide protection, should the need arise. VI The signatories agree to uphold this pact for the duration of ten years. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, FIDEI DEFENSOR, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. His Serene Highness, LUCIEN I, Prince of Savoy, Duke of Corazon, Count of San Luciano, Peremont and Sarissa, Baron of Brynnrose and etcetera. Her Royal Highness, RENATA ADELINA, Princess of Savoy.

ISSUED AND CONFIRMED BY HIS SERENE HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF SAVOY, 3RD OF SIGISMUND'S END, 1865 TO ALL OUR LOVING AND FAITHFUL SUBJECTS OF WHAT DEGREE AND RANK SOEVER, It pleases the Savoyard Crown to recognize Our leal subject, Remus of House de Bar, as a great servant to the Principality, and a protector of the Princely House. As such, the Savoyard Crown, with the authority vested upon Us by God and Our people, invests in Lucien Robert Ferdinand Remus Guy Ashford de Bar - concurrently the Count of Niseep - the ancestral Dukedom of Drusco to hold and pass onto his legitimate heirs. We further grant him the Fortress of Myrine as the new seat of his holdings in acknowledgment of his service to the Crown and as compensation for his decision to forfeit his prior lands to the Crown in lieu of San Luciano’s destruction. He is trusted with keeping law and order within his holdings, upholding the rule of the ruling dynasts, serving the Savoyard Crown dutifully, and to raise his sword in defense of the Principality. IN NOMINE DEI, HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Lucien I, Prince of Savoy, Duke of Corazon, Count of San Luciano, Peremont and Sarissa, Baron of Brynnrose, and etcetera.

cheeky, silly fellow, strange man, uncanny behavior. but yes, give me and @itdontmattaa good slice.

hello gmrod hello mio2

hey can i join too please @Xarklyi'll behave i promise

have you downloaded the app 'calm'? it is quite soothing friend.

The Champion of foreign lands, ruler of the South, dormant flurry of blades recalled the eventful eve with much confliction, tension and sadness. Was it a hint of regret, which beleagued the princeling, surveyor of the dunes? Was it grief, guilt and the pain of commiting a most terrific cardinal sin? So long had he mourned, so long had he made attempts to revitalize and allow, to welcome she who once entertained the vicious and most vile subterfuge with the late Vasileia. No matter. Lucien loved his siblings dearly, and despite the forceful decisions, the lies and deceit planted on the dear Carolina, he saught to aid her and ensure her betterment and path were once more paved. They shared a conversation, many years after the schemes unveiled, they shared bread and laughter, they saw a different vision, a dream, and Lucien would recall, Lucien would remember vividly as a fiery imagery of that words. "My Savoyard dream." The dream was much similar to Lucien's, though tainted by the vicious trait, that wanton; lust that Carolina had secretly conveyed to her brother. While many would have judged her, many would have saught to dispatch of her, to give her cruel treatment, the prince did not. She was still a child, a dear sister, one who had been lost and slighted, one how had returned home and perdured, endured upon the advances and restorations to their homeage, to their legacy. "No matter dear sister. Lust for power, it is not something to be ashamed of. Though there is yet much to learn, much to seek - the love of our people - the love of our leal subjects. You are no stranger, nor afar from mine crown, and if GOD willing you are to succeed me, I would facilitate any candidate the path." Carolina seemed most enthralled by the idea of ruling, power and change - and so her older brother would make best to facilitate such, for if she were to prove, he saw no issue nor missfortune befell upon the idea, that dream of hers. Although fate had entwined that she who sinned once, who betrayed and consorted in subterfuge were to do such twice. As the night befell the County of Lvinsk, and their so secretive, yet very detailed meeting were to begin, in order to find a solution for Lucien's successor, a band of warriors trampled forth, brusing and battering door and folk without halt. They stated their intentions to create most painful grief; to kill. Lucien unveiled his remarkable heirloom, Frostbringer, and their fates were sealed. In that bloodied bout, like a miracle from GOD itself, was the prince victor, triumphant in tandem with the toppled companions and severed enmity upon his land. If he fleed, if he ran he would be not worthy of that crown, everything would have been in vain. He deflected and received enough strikes, but it had all culminated, and his bloodied form, trembling and soaked in the crimson ichor found itself twitching, unnerved at the sights. All of the attackers had been slain, yet all of his companions, the leal savoyards were knocked, wounded - save for one. Carolina stood there, barely scrapped. Lucien's ire turned into pain, sadness that encroached him. And so the standing Renata saw the truth, the truth of Ashford before her eyes. She barked words - denouncing what Lucien truly knew, it was not hard to sight behind treason for a second time. The Prince knew it was over. Carolina wished to duel Renata, the other daugther of their late progenitors. Lucien did what he was taught, and he made effort to avoid more blood, to avoid more death. So emerged he, Champion of Savoy, Champion of Ashford, Champion of Renata. A succession of blows, in that flurry- that frenzy culminated with a toppled and defeated, disarmed Carolina. Memories flew through Lucien's mind - when they would speak within the Aggradé, toddlers they were, when she would speak about her advances within the tutelage of Tylos in a previous time. All these beautified memoir was futile, for it had all come to an end. Justice was nigh. The Frostbringer thrusted its frigid tip upon Carolina's neck, twisting for a quick death, yet her gaze pierced upon Lucien's soul, who then fell unto the soil, staring at the skies. He was unfit for ruling no more, for he was nothing but, the restorer; and alike the KINSLAYER.

He who bore the plated embrace derived from the haeseni-hegemon breathed a deep sigh. His gaze was caught absort within the scripture he was delivered within the Nikirala- Lucien, the renowned swordsman, the commendable duelist that had favored honour to avoid the detriment of a core chivalric value recalled the combat in which he issued triumph against the stalwart Champion of the Brotherhood. As he reigned with his blade, there was PEACE. As he offered his hand to the fallen one, there was PEACE. As the entourage cheered, and prepared for the departure, PEACE NO MORE. No matter. The Prince that was promised waved his farewell, as the combined efforts of Haense and honourable combatants from the very soil in which he fought were ravaged and slashed by the Brotherhood. Lucien managed to swing, bob-and-weave his chance away from the perils of towering men of great skill that wished his ultimately death. They did not know who that once boy, under the guise of the Marian Retinue's plating was. For them, he was simply another foe, another body to the tally. Yet it was all known by those who advanced upon compromise of honour. He was the Prince of Savoy; Lucien the PEACEMAKER. Upon his arrival, the bloodied, battered and bruised Prince was welcomed with open arms by the surviving party of Haeseni-folk that protected his arrival whilst men from the Aurelian Brotherhood saught to trample him with their mares. He met with his childhood friend, his brother from another mother; Karl Sigmar. "Woe to the usurpers of peace, woe to the kindred of malevolent deeds." "Vy have lived." "Honour reigns, and GOD embraces my watch." "They have enacted terrible betrayals." "And so they will see. In the nearing, the setting Sun above." "What of vyr people?" "I am but a simple man, servant of honour and humanity. I wish not for further danger." "Vy are commendable." "I am but one, I am no army, but he who wishes to end the ire and hatred from those who had caused harm." And so Lucien offered a bloodied arm to Karl, the pair nodded. Their friendship had been untainted, unbeleagued by any thought or fear. Like when they were kids, toddlers - the future was dark, stranged. But so long as there was hope and companionship, honour would reign in the Savoyardling's visage. "For peace, for honour."

"Such is the way of things." said a Ferryman, looking to the Ferrymen that were not Ferrymen anymore, although he was going to fight with the Ferrymen, the Ferrymen that were actually Ferrymen, the ones that were the real Ferrymen that were going to fight with their own companions from the Ferrymen band.

Rules that advocate for the narrative are most required to move forwards as a community. I find myself aligned with this train of thought developed by the Admins.

THE SAN LUCIANO VIGIL ANNO DOMINI 1864 “And I am the Lord GOD without peer, and My trials are the holy trials, and My cure is the virtuous cure, and all the reliefs of the Virtue are open to the righteous forbearer.” - Scroll of Virtue 5:10 It is most saddening to witness the destruction of our sod, the city of San Luciano, yet the deed has been executed and many have lost their lives and homes. Once the city proudly stood as the heart of our Principality and now has been demoted to just rubble. The Savoyard Crown stands strong and united in such worrying times, our bold Prince has been under recovery for the affects onto him by the thanhium particles. We pray for his swift recovery and return. Our government acknowledges the valor of our soldiers and volunteers who have been searching for any survivors left amidst the wake of the destruction. We mourn the deaths of our children, siblings, spouses, parents and friends. They shall not be forgotten, but commemorated through the upcoming vigil. The event shall be headed by the most holiest, our High Pontiff as he would lead the prayers for the departed martyrs of San Luciano. Upon the conclusion of the religious matters, we hand the floor to each to express their losses, memories and what has motivated them to continue in such horrendous happenings. SIGNED, HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Lucien I, Prince of Savoy, Duke of Corazon, Count of San Luciano, Peremont and Sarissa, Baron of Brynnrose and etcetera.