TheCapybara

Anna Cassiopeia, reads over the Lordling's Edict. Raising her brow a small bit before returning to her expressionless face. Taking a small sip from her pineapple juice, then a bite from a chocolate chip cookie. Relaxing on a comfortable chair within the many rooms of the palace. Filled with beautiful and brightly colored walls. "Your majesty, I am shocked to say this is a time I agree with the enemy. Though, the only time. As I shall not overlook past transgressions. Which is rare even for me to look over past transgressions! Sort of kind of! It mostly depends on the situation." The Galbraith child, ward to the current Monarch of Balian, expressed with a tone of minor shock. Speaking with the Monarch of Balian over pineapple juice and cookies. Even though her face did not showcase much emotion, one could tell she was feeling all sorts of emotions. Confused, shocked, and joyful? The little child then would remark in a monotone voice towards the Queen of Balian, her hand waving away a Palace servant as they attempted to refill her glass of pineapple juice. "To say it is not shocking is an understatement. As these are two familial lines known for disloyalty. In this case, one is the vassal and the other, their liege. Which means this was eventually going to happen. Revoking titles over disloyalty, as it had happened within Balian. Though, one must acknowledge the swift work to remove one viper from a den of vipers. Which is common sense at best." With that, the young Galbraith would toss her copy of the Stassion's Edict into the fire. Watching the flames consume the small copy of the impious Lordling's ruling upon the infamous line of Pompourelia. As the flames began to die down, the gloomy and petite Galbraith would then call a servant of the palace to refill her cup of pineapple juice. Turning her attention to the Monarch of Balian while the pair continued to converse on other matters of worldly politics. @HIGH_FIRE

"Well, time to burn my legacy. If a vile woman is to use my work, if she dared or any of her vile spawn. Then none shall use it!" The extremely elderly and dying wisewoman of the fallen Duchy of Stran spoke to herself while she burnt the marriage rites and traditions. Being surrounded by the ashes of herbs and bones of dead wildlfie. The traditions passed down from mother to daughter being burnt, just like lost dream of the last good Duke of Stran. The murder of Crows surrounding the wisewoman as survivors, those who were loyal to the last Duke of Stran, began settling within the wilderness. Placing down ancient banners of the first generation of Stran around their camp. "As told to the bloodthirsty Jan, the Dragon would burn the murder of Crows. Thus my prophecy is told and completed! The people who fought for freedom is now under a new tyrant who murdered a boy and blamed his father! With this I pray, that all that cause death for the sake of power be dammed!" With that, the last of the revivers died at last with the dreams of the Raevir people. Her breath running low, the locals within the small village. Survivors of the burning of Andregrad surrounding the dead wisewoman. Her eyes being closed while the crows flew away, marking the end of a generation.

"To use the right phrase. Found in foreign elven lands, these people would say! Slay Queen!" Anna Cassiopeia would express to fellow children of the Balianese court with joy in her voice while they played with their dolls. Reenacting the horrible defeats of the siege of Breakwater and Brasca Keep.

Our lord and savior thank you creamynoteblock 🙏

“Finally, what is done is done. Mama and papa poured their tears and blood for their once honorable legacy turned disgraced. I mourn as well, shall the sinned be redeemed and the ones who continue to sin be dammed.” The humble soul of Ada Bel af Brasca, past matriarch of the house and regent of the Brasca titles, expressed with sorrow among the ancestors and founders of House af Brasca. The plenty of them looking down upon their heirs with disappointment and sadness. Then, she began to chant for the land where her bodied laid in peace. “Ave the great River Petra, Ave to the just Queen, Ave to the land of the people!”

“What a shame, Madame Brasca would be so ashamed of her brothers bride and spawn. I wonder how she’d feel knowing her brother was a clown while his bride was a witch.” An elderly Madame expressed while cleaning the Estate gifted to her after Ada Bel’s passing from Illness. Though the soul and body of the young artist had perished. Her legacy of a United Brasca still stood, a legacy left to rot. Perhaps one day, one would seek to do what is right. Either to end the line of traitors, or to redeem it.

GIVEN NAME: Lottie Fersen NOBILITY/GENTRY (Y/N): N AGE: 19 DATE OF BIRTH (if known): Unknown PLACE OF BIRTH (if known): Unknown RACE: Human ETHNICITY (Auvergnian, Illatian, etc.): Haense PAST MILITARY/COMBAT EXPERIENCE (if any): Siege of Blackwater Keep PAST LABOUR EXPERIENCE (if any): None SIGNED NAME: Lottie Fersen Username: Orlesian Discord: DianeDionne

"Ah, what a twist! Perfect for my upcoming story! Though what do they say? It is always good to strike a snake by the head?" Lottie Fersen spoke in a stoic tone to the other maids within Castle Markev while she went on through her thoughts verbally. The woman would continue to brainstorm for an upcoming story, having the point of her charcoal pen touching the rough paper before she had an eureka moment. Fersen pointing up towards the ceiling as her expression brightened as she picked herself up and away from the other maids and off to her room to begin writing. "Though, perhaps he resembles a fish more then a snake! As at least a snake does eventually strike while a fish hides in rocks!" As Fersen finished her thought with cheer in her voice, continuing her writing with diligence. Letting her imagination guide her writing while the pen brushed across the rough paper. All while this happened, there was a devilish, a villainous grin stretched across her lips.

Short Stories by Fersen “The Urge of Anger” by Elizabeth von Edger Written by Christine Beatrix Fersen The 3rd of Jula ag Piov of 504 E.S. My sage-colored eyes examined my surroundings as I woke up from my slumber. I would notice fellow ladies of high society checking for my well-being, all of the ladies appearing to be overwhelmed with bliss as I woke up from my deep slumber. I began to yawn, stretching my arms as I noticed the eldest of the gentlewomen having a face of concern. This is where I finally asked these gentlewomen of society, particularly the eldest of the group, how did I go from the dazzling ballroom of the palace to here, on a grandiloquent armchair. At the moment my questions were spoken out aloud, the ladies' once blissful faces became ones of concern, a sense of hesitance. For a minute, all of the women gave each other hushed whispers till the eldest, the one who never appeared to be lively of my awakening, walked forward, standing in front of all the women. There the eldest in a disappointed tone began to describe what had occurred. The eldest began to illustrate the ballroom, how the walls appeared so cozy though being gilded with gold leaf, appearing to also be lavish in appearance. These large walls had been painted with portrayals of the cosmos and the ceiling above had an enormous chandler that emulated the sun. While guests spoke among themselves, it was told to me that I stood in the corner, conversing with the hostess about the current social affair which had been going on. Among the hostess and I, was the daughter of the hostess and the husband of the hostess. While we conversed among ourselves, we appeared to be happy from the view of the elderly gentlewoman. That was until a gentleman of a reputable lineage walked forward to the hostess's household and I. This is where I ultimately remembered what had transpired and who was the reason for my current circumstance. I was in utter shock when he presented himself to the hostess and her daughter. There he asked if he may take the hand of her daughter for a dance. He asked with a rotten stench coming from somewhere on his body, though, besides the problem of personal hygiene he also maintained an unkept beard. This disgusted me, so I voiced my opinion. Suggesting that he either groom himself at this moment in the powder room or at least shave. Not clean-shaven, but clean up his beard. After my suggestion was shut down, I began to demand that he do so. I even got the hostess to agree with me. While I begged with the hostess for this ill-mannered gentleman to clean himself, a sweat formed and trickled down my forehead. The gentleman, being a polite man of society, offered his Handkerchief. Though, this was the moment I had lost my senses. This Handkerchief was overly greasy. The Handkerchief presented to me by this gentleman was utterly repulsive. Causing me to faint, the reason for my recent condition. As my memories came back to me, I stood up from my armchair and hurried back to the ballroom, noticing that it had only been five minutes since I fainted. As I rushed back to the ballroom the hostess was about to give the filthy but surprisingly polite gentleman permission to dance with her daughter. I, as any proper woman. Oppose this proposition. How dare this fatty gentleman dance with a proper lady of society? At this point, the lord of the manor, the spouse of the hostess, silenced me with his thunderous voice. There he explained to me and all the guests that one mustn't judge someone for their appearance and hygiene. The hostess added to his lecture for the party-goers. Persuading the guest that while one must not judge someone by appearance or smell, that it is equally important to take the steps to properly groom themselves. At this moment, I frowned. The guilt had begun to set in but had not fully set in as I knew I was in the right till the hostess explained that it was this greasy and smelly gentleman who had picked me up and placed me on the armchair. It was he who cared for me despite my ruthless scolding and bullying. Then, the guilt fully set in. I rushed over towards the greasy gent who had kindly brought me over to the armchair and asked for forgiveness. As I had known that no one should be judged despite their flaws. He quickly forgave me, telling me that I had been partly right as a proper person of high society. No, but all civilization should have proper hygiene. As it is both viewed positively among the people and good for one's overall health. With that, the hostess's daughter and the gentleman began their dance and I had a new understanding of the world. No one should be judged for their imperfections, though that does not indicate that their flaws can be worked on. In the end, we have more resemblances to a handkerchief. Before a handkerchief could be used, it must be clean. Before we can critique others, we must be capable of critiquing ourselves and seeing our faults.

Short Stories by Fersen “March of the Seagulls” by Sven Foresburg Written by Christine Beatrix Fersen The 13th of Msitza ag Dargund of 503 E.S. On a cold, harsh, frigid day, One small child, a frail girl with golden hair and hazel eyes wandered the shores of her quiet town which had been covered in a blanket of the purest snow. While the town was silent, the seagulls flew high above those who shivered in their homes as the snow landed on the roofs of the common folk. The snow suffocating the joys and hopes of the people who lived within the village, suffering from the horrid winds of winter which breathed upon them all. Though one held hope, the same golden-haired child who wandered the snow-covered shores of the ghost town. The young girl continued to wander the empty shores. That was until a seagull from above fell from the clouded sky and onto the soft snow. The seagull fell so elegantly from up above, like the flakes of snow. The seagull fell, and when it landed on a soft and thick bed of snow. The hazel-eyed girl of the quaint town approached the fallen seagull, the plain bird lying on the bed of snow. Its body twitched as it appeared to be paralyzed by the harsh cold that embraced the land. This girl decided to take mercy on the helpless bird, picking up the paralyzed seagull with her gloved hands. She embraced the bird with her arms, giving the bird warmth like a penguin would hide its chick under layers of feathers. As the girl walked out from the shores, she wandered through a natural path of packed snow up to the village, where puffs of gray smoke ascended to the sky through the fires that kept the villagers warm within their four-walled homes. At last, the girl approached the door of her home, where she entered. The house was cozy with blankets being scattered everywhere while an old woman sat on her rocking chair, knitting a blanket. Then, the old woman turned her head to the girl and asked if she was bringing such a plain bird into the warmth of their home. The girl wisely answered that even if the world is blanketed by a harsh winter, that their hearts must stay warm and golden. The old woman would then take the ailing seagull into her arms and sit down on the chair. She would begin to pour a gentle portion of tea into the beak of the seagull, Which revived the seagull from its paralyzation. Finally, the plain bird had become more alive, flying around the small wooden cabin. It squawked in joy in its newfound freedom. Minutes later, the seagull would open the one window next to the door and escape. The old woman and hazel-eyed girl looked on, wondering what was the cause of the bird’s strange behavior. After a moment, not even given a chance for the pair to close the window, more winged friends flew through the window! The taste of tea and the warmth of their cabin. The pair give into the bird’s demands, caring for these frozen and suffering birds? The winged creatures suffered like their human neighbors. Hours had passed since these seagulls had entered the wooden cabin, in their search for tea. Though, as fast as they entered the pair’s home, they left the warmth and safety of the cabin just as fast. Once again, the plain birds left the child and old woman confused, but then: the snow suddenly stopped. The sun showed its bright face to the people of the quaint port town for the first time since they could remember as the heavens above cleared the darkened clouds to allow a bright blue sky to reveal itself. Cloudless was this new sky with only the warm embrace of the sun. One seagull from the bright skies flew down to the open window, twisting its head, nodding for the pair to exit from their home. The old woman and the young girl obeyed the wish of the seagull and left their wooden cabin. Finally their faces had warmth from the warm coastal air embraced their bodies once again. The golden-haired girl let her hair flow through the warm wind, her eyes closing. She remembered the pain of before which came from the harsh winter, now free from that pain. The flora around them became lush and alive as she reminisced within her mind. The plant life quickly sprouted out from the dense soil as the snow melted away by the heat of the new sun. At last, did the quaint town have warmth once more, at last, was the little golden-haired girl able to walk among the sunflowers, and the town escaped harsh winter.

"I cannot read this short article! But I have a feeling that whatever this man wrote is right!" Lottie Fersen explains to other maids of the Ludvoar household with a passionate tone. The maid would then place the copy of the King's response to the current political state of the Kingdom of Balian, into her pocket. Lottie, going back to her duties as maid of the Ludovar household, going back to her work with a smile on her face. Making sure she would do her job granted by the generous Countess-consort of Otistadt.

"I cannot read this short article! But I have a feeling that whatever this lady wrote is right!" Lottie Fersen explains to other maids of the Ludvoar household with a passionate tone. The maid would then place the copy of the Queen-Mother's response to the current political state of the Kingdom of Balian, into her pocket. Lottie, going back to her duties as maid of the Ludovar household, going back to her work with a smile on her face. Making sure she would do her job granted by the generous Countess-consort of Otistadt.

“Those fools of Balian, that Casimir. Making so many fumbles. First insulting and threatening the Archduchess of the Petra with a letter to this? Just a joke they say, but how many jokes will it take for them to understand that words are stronger then a blade.” An exhausted noble woman expressed to her butler while sipping on her tea. Watching the construction of a summer estate. The Regent af Brasca letting out a sigh as she placed down the tea cup upon the table to her left. Looking at the beautiful scenery of the river Petra. ”He does not have the blood of dragons flowing through him. He is only a homely frog when compared to a dragon. Foolish boy. He will learn, and he will be humbled hopefully. I pray he did not inherit his mother's stupidity and loud mouth to easily insult foreign dignitaries or monarchs. Though, I unfortunately think he did." At that, the playwright of Valfleur would clap her hands softly. Requesting for another cup of tea, sill watching the Brascan people hard at work building a summer estate. The woman, letting out a smirk and a proud expression at the progress of the estate so far as the sun begun to set.

“I see my regency is not seen as legitimate, considering my long missing brother is listed.” The Regant af Brasca exclaimed in a disappointed tone.

Penned by The Scribe of House af Brasca, Egmont Yorbe Halcourt af Brasca The Coat of Arms of House Halcourt af Brasca UPON the year of 1934 the 15th of The Grand Harvest. The House af Brasca announces the unfortunate illness which plagues the current Baron af Brasca, Baldwin Pascal Halcourt af Brasca. In his steed, his young sister, Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca will take the position of regent over the Barony af Brasca until the Baron is able to recover and attend to his duties to the Barony af Brasca and as a peer of the Commonwealth of the Petra. UNTIL the Baron af Brasca is able to attend back to his duties which comes with being a peer of the Commonwealth of the Petra. Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca has sworn upon God and her ancestors that she shall attend to the duties left unattended in the time of her brother’s illness with diligence. Any issues with the Brasca Household shall be handled by the Regent af Brasca, which is Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca. MAY GOD BLESS THE BARON AF BRASCA! LONG LIVE THE REGENT AF BRASCA! His Serene Excellency, Sir Laurens Henri "the Unwavering" Halcourt d'Artois, Chanzlè of the Commonwealth of the Petra, the Marquis du Clermont, Warden of the North, the Baron of Noufeille Valenstrata, Grand Master of the Sovereign Order of the Petrine Laurel, Hero of the Petra, Harvest Lord and Protector of the Auvergnians Her Ladyship, Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca, Regent af Brasca The Right Honorable, Sir Baldwin Pascal Halcourt af Brasca, Baron af Brasca

The First Villainess by Madeline of the River(1933) Penned by Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca Synopsis: This is an artist's response, through poetry, to condemn the unholy action which has been committed by the inquisition. This playwright and poet publicly condemns the actions committed by an order, an inquisition, which calls themselves Holy. As how can one listen to words spoken by an inquisition who only sees death as the solution for an unborn child? The ones who punishes those who sin when they are filled with blood on their hands. As a devoted follower of the Canonist Church, one has to question such. This story is a tale from the perspective of a young mother while being sentenced to death for her sin, a punishment for her betrayal against God and all of his teachings. Question is, will this mother be able to save her unborn child from the sins of her own? PART ONE LIFE Please listen to when spoken to. Saint Julia with joyful prospects and news. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Please bless the one unborn with bliss and patience. Life of innocence is grown at home under dawn. I worry with a tainted mind, an unkind soul. My child be eyed with disgusted lies. Savages in palaces show shadows of doubt. They be exposed and loathed, then disposed. Saint Julia with joyful prospects and news. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Please guarantee the one unborn be here with cheer. Defend and secure the one who is unborn. Almighty God bless thou. Amen. PART TWO SIN Please listen to when spoken to. Saint Julia in a breath of horror and fear with dread. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Harm be declared upon the unprepared and scared. Madness be spread by the sadness of plagues. Last eve some achieved in burning those who sinned. Last eve some achieved in harming those who are unarmed. Last eve some achieved in spreading ferocity through atrocities. Last eve someone achieved in condemning me to death. Saint Julia in a breath of horror and fear with dread. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Death with a cold grip comes for me soon, please. Protect the unborn with the grip of God. Almighty God bless thou. Amen. PART THREE DEATH Please listen to when spoken to. Saint Julia in a breath of distress and regret. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Dammed am I for sins, dammed is my unborn child. Sins begin in darkness and ends in darkness. Today will weigh with sin on some. Today will spread regret to all. Today I accept the effect of my neglect. But please spare the unborn first-born. Saint Julia in a breath of distress and regret. Matron of humanity, Patron of humility. Please spear the unborn first-born. As ones below shall not spare any air. Sins of a mother they say it is. Too late they say it is, too late. Today the unborn first-born dies. Tomorrow they grieve with guilt. Almighty God bless thou. Amen.

If you could smite a nation, which one?

"Man. I cannot believe this. Its over. The peace is going to end and the Adrians are going to burn our crops while they take children and woman as sacrifices to Iblees. Dammed our Archduchess for pointing something a tad petty out! How dare she worry! What a horrible woman! Must be a puppet for Adria!" A playwright of the Petra said with sarcasm in her voice while going through copies of her newly written play, printed by the famed Petran printing company, the Vallange Printers. "Though, sarcasm aside, I do think he should have prayed but; who am I to control people? Besides, don't really think it matters anymore. What is done is done. Even if it is not the most smart choice or even to say a petty choice. The Koeng picked his choice, no changing that. No changing that at all, well, besides GOD. He could change that. But, enough my ramblings and back to work with me! Besides, at least someone said something about how it was a tad weird, but who cares. As I said. What is done is done." The Halcourt commented to the workers at the Vallange Printers, the woman looking through the prints of her newly written play. Throwing the article which condemned the Koeng of Haense to the trash.

“Lord Of Sin” by Madeleine du Brocius (1607) Penned by Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca Synopsis: In a tale as old as time, here is a story of love. But a forbidden love of passion and kindness prevented by the abrasive and malicious husband who only cares for himself and his cheap courtesans from the streets. Here is the story of how an Archduchess escapes a golden cage created from the sorrows of betrayal and abuse. Be warned, this story, this tale, has themes of abuse. Both physical and psychological abuse and is not for the most faint of heart. You are warned, dearest patron. Major Characters: Anthony Anthony is a young and strong lord of the Commonwealth of Petrusa and the current husband of Archduchess Helena. As well as the son of a powerful king to the south, making him a foreign royal. Anthony is considered a cunning fighter, leading the armies of the Commonwealth of Petrusa. The youthful lordling is described to be a young man with black hair, sunkissed olive skin, and dark eyes.. Helena Helena is the monarch to the throne of the Commonwealth of Petrusa. The young archduchess is seen as a capable and young ruler, being able to complete problems affecting the state through proper means. Helena is also the devoted wife to Lord Anthony. The Archduchess is depicted as a young woman with light ginger hair, pale white skin, and gray eyes. Audemar Audemar is the youngest son of the foreign King of Haenstia. The young foreign noble currently resides within the Capital of the Commonwealth of Petrusa as the Haenstia Ambassador to the Commonwealth. Audemar is seen as a charismatic man with a silver tongue, being able diplomatically demolish anyone in a debate of any subject. Besides his silver tongue, he is also known as an excellent fighter. Aduemar is described to be a young man with black coal like hair, pale skin, and navy blue eyes. Minor Characters: Lady-In-Waiting Court Doctor Theatrical Props: Golden Goblet Wooden Brush Fake Ferrum Sword #1 Fake Ferrum Sword #2 ACT ONE ACT TWO ACT THREE EPILOGUE

"Going to chop this man's hand off." Ada simply stated with no emotion, the diplomatic playwright turning to violance. "Wait, not just one hand, but both hands." The woman corrected herself, writing this task down on her to-do list.

"Is Irene okay? Sounds like she needs some tea or something." The Halcourt questioned while preparing herself in front of her vanity. Ada, staring blankly into the reflection of herself caused by the mirror. The woman's ginger hair flowing through the air passing through the opened window. Ada, finally finishing her hair and light makeup, placing the copy of the literary piece upon the vanity. "This is just so depressing, I think she needs a hug or something." After the Halcourt was finished speaking to herself aloud, her thoughts known to all within the Halcourt chateau. Ada would begin to search for a gift. Something which would able to lift up the lowered spirits of the Basrid consort. Running out of the chateau in a hurry and straight into the markets of Vallange. Her hands touching fine silks to silver accessories while searching for a gift under the misty dew which blanketed the capital of Commonwealth of the Petra in the early morning.

"This is art! I must get the permission of this amazing playwright to produce this within the lands of the Petra and perhaps the world!" The young Halcourt af Brasca would exclaim to a maid with a smile painted on her face while the soft cool breeze would cut through her air while she sat in front of her vanity. Ada Bel would store the copy of the play into a cabinet of her grand vanity, quickly finishing up her hair to begin penning a letter to Madame du Varoche. Saying to her maid before she was dismissed, a finale remark on the subject. "Perhaps Madame du Varoche and I may become great allies in the world of the arts! As it is never too bad to have artist as friends."

GOVERNMENT NAME: Ada Bel Halcourt af Brasca SUMMER’S OLD (AGE): 18 DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF A CITIZEN OF PETRA?: Yes VOTE GRANTED TO CANDIDATE: Bo Blackwell ((MC NAME: Orlesian))

Ada Bel, is indeed a Halcourt and with such, will attend the family reunion. Being super happy.