tadabug2000

"His Imperial Majesty takes to health once more," Junco murmured, gaze slipping over the missive. It arrived atop a pile of mail, some about extended warranties on carriages. Her focus split from the missive momentarily, counting out a measure of Drake's Tail, the Avistran continuing in her potion creation. "GOD is good and kind. His light graces the Imperial family, knowing we must focus our attentions on the spawn of the dark."

[!] The missive has been distributed throughout the Empire and its vassals. ALCHEMIST SEEKING EMPLOYEE Anno Domini 15th of Owyn’s Light, 656 A.A. GATHERER AND TASK DO-ER This missive is penned today in search of someone I can assign tasks to, primarily the gathering of herbs, the finding of rare books and for the occasional delivery. I am based within the Empire, of the Margravate of Avistra. Requirements: Basic literacy; if this is a problem, I am willing to teach. The willingness to travel about the realm to gather what is needed A darkspawn test will be conducted to assure the safety of those involved What is Provided: Common potions shall be provided as payment, open to negotiation as to the contents A horse and its feed for travel should one be needed A place to rest should one be needed If interested, send a bird to Junco Wingriff [tadabug2000] through the aviary. Deo Volente, Her Ladyship, Junco Cassandra Wingriff, Lady of Avistra, Heiress to the Barony of Grpyhon’s Roost and Squire of Dame Zilvira Nightblood

Junco read the missive, though she and the Avistrans knew this was coming since two courts ago. Her Nonno deserved his rest, his retirement and now he would get it. There was a hint of sadness there, but excitement prevailed above all. What would this new age of Avistra bring? "Forward Avistra." The words are firm, a smile forming unbidden on the girls features.

Aww, you're still a baby LOTCer :> Hmmm, a question for you.. Are you a goofy goober? As for an actual question, what actually made you found your all favorite family, the Helfgotts?

FISTICUFFS IN THE MUCK Anno Domini 9th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 654 A.A. A fisticuffs in the muck. LAW OF THE WILD The tour ended by the market stalls, merchants hawking their wares. General conversation turned to mounting tension, the taller of the duo looking down upon the guide. “Bigger wins in the wild.” A thinly veiled threat. The Wingriff’s palm settled on the pommel of her arming blade out of habit. “Don’t imply laws of the wild, lest you’re willing to get that experience quick.” Another comment had a smile sharpening her features. “I’m not in the habit of punching Serfs.” CHALLENGE Rylond challenged her. Junco had a habit of cutting people down to size. Unable to ignore a challenge, following the dogma her Templar father raised her with, she asked the terms. “Fisticuffs. No armor. Tap-out.” Simple to follow, the boy tacking on a bet in an attempt to get ahead in life. “I win, you teach me sword fighting.” He didn’t have the skill, nor the teachings. With no skill of his own to trade, he had to relent to labor. “And I win, you serve me for a year. Quickest way to get experience and learn not to piss everyone off.” FISTICUFFS IN THE MUCK The ever-constant rain of old Avistra met them in the square. Witnesses idled by the side, the Wingriff peeling away armor and weaponry for her younger brother to look after. They gauged each other's stance, one with fists heavy as a bear and the other with movements learnt from the blade. It began with a feint, lunging after as a fist cracked the boy's face. Blow for blow, feint, weave, jab, more towards the former then the latter. Mud sucked down boots, rain plastering hair, until a series of unpausing blows left no room for breath and sent Rylond into the muck. The Wingriffs knee sank against his chest, kneeling into him with a single warning. “Tap-out.” He managed to tap her knee. Junco Wingriff assisted Rylond up. Afterall, size has nothing to do with might.

Oh my gosh, just watched the video and died laughing. I miss playing with the Qali boys. May need to do so again

Junco learned of her claimed Uncle's passing. The man who taught her father, who listened patiently as she rambled on about the monsters she'd one day be old enough to fight. Chosen family. She loved him dearly. Race nor creed mattered not. He was simply her Uncle. Her friend. The man who held stories of greatness and had no trouble in telling her of them. "-oh.." The young girls words came quiet, her normal excitement of the day fading to a dull hum. "I had so much to tell him still. I wanted to show him my new weapon, I," Her teeth ground, gaze dropping away to look anywhere else. "..I'm going out for a bit."

Junco Wingriff cries, as she is made to read the lengthy history of the house.

Junco Wingriff, once Altwegg, prepares for the coming move. The heiress of Gryphon's Roost anticipates this next stage in life with great excitement. The few dresses she owned are packed, dusty, old farm boots on her feet and her true wealth, her growing weapons store, is cared for and checked with practiced movement. "Forward Avistra." --- Giulia of Avistra was part of the expedition. Two years spent in unfounded lands, shortly after the sudden death of her grandfather. She spent that time growing, learning, and putting her skills to good use. Being the only person with medical knowledge in the party led to much of her time being filled with the caring of wounds, and raising of herbs in new terrain. "Grandpapa, I wish you were here for this."

Giulia of Avistra had been stepping up to assist her aging grandfather down the steps, fingers mere inches away from his arm, when he went crashing down the steps. A cry stuck in her throat, rushing for him, but the Apothecary knew he was gone. Grief swallowed her, and intent on carrying on his legacy, she made her plea to go on the coming expedition. To carry on his legacy, yes, but also to get away from the memories of the smithy.

Once Junco Altwegg and now Junco Wingriff, the now heiress of a Barony found she had a great deal to plan and study for. She could only hope to make her family proud.

THE AVISTRAN SCOUTS Issued from the Seat of Altwegg, Under GOD and Empire Anno Domini 17th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 649A.A. The issued quest. FEED THE SOLDIERS It was as I was meeting with the Scouts, making slingshots with crafts supplies, that we, the Avistran Scouts, received a letter from Ser Merle Altwegg-Winburgh. Earlier in the day, Ser Merles squire was kidnapped by over one hundred rat-men, and taken away. The Avistran levy gathered quickly once summoned, and rode out for rescue. They have now set up a camp, and have a lack of food. It is our job, as the scouts, upon their request to make food and bring it safely over to them. [A post in response to a letter! We’ll do a bit of cooking chaos with rolls, likely end up poisoning the levymen.. and then deliver it!] Deo Volente, Her Ladyship, Junco Cassandra Altwegg, Lady of Avistra

THE AVISTRAN SCOUTS Issued from the Seat of Altwegg, Under GOD and Empire Anno Domini 17th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 649A.A. An Avistran Scout. THE AVISTRAN SCOUTS The idea for this came to me from seeing the children of the Empire freezing in the face of conflict, of not knowing how to make a simple meal, what to look for in avoiding trouble or even how to read. It is with this in mind that I found the Avistran Scouts, intent on teaching and learning alongside others, whether Serf or Noble. SCOUTS TEACHINGS Basic values and skills will be taught, and I welcome those well-versed in these topics to letter me. First aid, simple cooking, herb knowledge, how to spot danger, and other matters. It is my wish for all to be safe and to learn to help themselves until help can arrive. Each learned skill earns a braided coord, each colorful and added onto the Scouts wristlet. SCOUTS RANKINGS Junior Scout A junior scout is a potential scout, witnessing the classes and learning the basics. The earning of three coords earns them their promotion. Scout The scout is the role the majority holds, learning and taking part in classes and field trips with parental permission. Only by being recommended can they become a senior scout. Senior Scout Senior scouts take lead among those gathered and lead by example, showcasing good values and learned skills. Troop Leader A troop leader, whether temporary for teaching or otherwise, is an adult teaching or leading in a class or fieldtrip and ranks highest. SIGN-UP Deo Volente, Her Ladyship, Junco Cassandra Altwegg, Lady of Avistra

Junco Altwegg invitation had been received. She'd befriended Aurelie at an Silasian hunt, followed by a sleepover, and the penning of subsequent letters. Nonetheless, the Avistran knew she'd need to see whether she could visit Alba. Afterall, her family was not necessarily welcome within its confines.

Can you Help me? Issued from the Seat of Altwegg, Under GOD and Empire Anno Domini 11th of Dragon’s Roar, 647A.A. The bloodied walkways of Avistra. Can you Help me? A simple phrase, with varying meanings. Those of the dark, of Iblees, love to use this most on unsuspecting children. “I am looking for my friend. Can you help me?” “Can you help me? I’m lost.” “Can you help me?” The first time this happened, they knew things about me and my family. Enough to convince me they are a family friend in need of help. I did everything right, checking they were a trusted adult, but how could someone know in the face of a fount of information? I would have followed them, too, if not for the timely arrival of my father and brother back home. Fool me once, shame on you. Other times, someone stepped in before something could happen, as the dark came in search of malice and destruction. Today, as I’d readied to attend the Imperial Wedding, and stepped out to enjoy the Avistran sun, that same question came from a strange woman. No name, no trust, no familiarity. “Can you help me?” “Me? No, but my Padre can.” First came the Darkstalker, second came the Vampyre. Each leaving blood stained in leather and breath barely hanging on. So, I pen this today, to tell any more spawn of the dark, the scourge of Iblees, no, I will not help you. I will pity you, for having lost what is good and light under GOD and that of which is life. To silence you is what us Altweggs will give, because it is what you deserve. Peace as you are struck down, and rent beneath the dirt, all given potential gone for turning to that of the dark. That is our mercy. I will pray, for if there are any souls left in these rotting bodies, they surely need the assistance. Deo Volente, Her Ladyship, Junco Kassandra Altwegg, Lady of Avistra

The youngest Altwegg prepared herself for the coming fight. She had never known a time without war, what was a few more years? Her training via her father assured she'd be a menace to any in this conflict.

Junco, the youngest Altwegg found she held disappointment. She'd been napping when the brigands had breached her home, and the child missed the fight as a whole. She knew she would not have been allowed to join in, but to watch as the brave Serfs, and she supposed her family was there too, fight and drive the Salvians back. It must of been quite the sight!

The Lady Junco hadn't recognized her cousin Merlin's face last Saints night. Some may chalk it up to the shock of the day. A Darkstalker had come to their home afterall, intent on leading the youngest Altwegg away. The fight that ensued was chaotic, loud, but the household prevailed in the end. Her cousin, the proclaimed heir, had come out of his chambers. Away from his alchemy and books, and she met him for the first time in the years that she lived. It was odd. Strange. He offered gifts, showed kindness, but he was still a stranger to the young girl. Junco became aware of the challenge not long after. It hadn't been much of a surprise, she had to admit. She could only pray all went well.

CULTURE AND TRADITIONS Pie vivere, et Deum et patriam diligere. The O’Redmond clan arrived from the isles, rambunctious children attached at their hips and piling into a tent not meant for nearly as many people. Freshly caught fish is strung outside, an attempt at forgoing any smells, and the children screech and play. The home they once had is no more, gone to famine and illness. The lands of Azuras are new, shiny, and full of promise. The clan will get on, by hook or by crook, they are O’Redmonds afterall. [!] A depiction of just a few of the O’Redmond clan. Known for their height, men and women alike of the O’Redmond clan stand tall. Brunette locks pile atop their head, paired commonly with hazel eyes. Practicality is in what they wear, assuring an ease of movement while adding beauty in strategic spots. A brooch, a ribbon, pops of color to catch the eye. VALUES AND TRADITIONS The O’Redmond Clan is a large one, filled with spirited members and the occasional fiery temper. Family is not forgotten, the importance of such placed heavily, down to the fifth cousin. To gain and to lose family is an ordeal, past that of the wedding and the funeral. Hospitality, too, is one of their values. To treat those in need as a friend, though should their hospitality be abused is when that temper is seen. By hook or by crook, the tenacity of the O’Redmond clan is a beaut in itself, not knowing the meaning of giving up. THE CRADLE Even a babe needs a bit of luck and well-wishing. Red ribbons are tied about their cradle to ward off the Fae, ferrum and aurum charms dangling from the ends. Their baptism gives them their first mina, coin meant to wish future wealth and prosperity upon the child. AGE OF REASON The age of reason is traditionally between the ages of seven to nine. A time when the child is believed to be able to discern right from wrong. A celebration takes place sometime during this point, a test too for the child, in which they are given choices and tasks that the clan sets out. To aid an elderly woman or to deliver a gift are a couple examples of what they may be asked. Passing brings on the true celebration, a party for all to enjoy. COMING OF AGE The coming of age for those of the clan is an affair which lasts a year and a day. Given a day’s worth of food, they leave home with the clothes on their back, and must travel for a year. They impose on hospitality, make new friends and take in new sights. A trial period of being an adult, to see life outside of the clan and the community. The leftover day is for the celebration upon their return, a celebration of their new friends and memories, where they all feast. THE LOVE OF ARTS The household boasts a love of the arts, many having studied to be an Ollamh, a master of dance, poetry, and music. Even those who decide to take a different path would be proficient in the one of the arts, giving them an added means of providing for themselves and the clan.

Lady Junco Altwegg peered over the invitation the Lady Eirene shared with her. It would certainly be a great bit of fun! The faerie dust she extorted out of her father, too, would come in handy.

Hi, Minari! ❤️ I have a question for you, it is very important. Are you a goofy goober?

MC Name: tadabug2000 Discord: tadabug2000 Image: Description of Image: Calendar Dimensions: 1x1 [2 high, 1 wide]

A ship at harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for. The crash of waves sounded alongside that of steel, pounding against the rocking ship. A storm thundered along, leaving darkened skies and heavy clouds. A young woman peered out from the Crow’s nest, keeping to the rhythm of the ship as it was second only to breathing to her. The storm was sudden, the sea angry and every bit of her being alive. This is what she has trained for. What they have all trained for. The climb down was perilous, winds beating against her and rain blinding her. There was a difference between bravery and stupidity, and if she were to stay up there any longer, it’d be the latter. Weathered boots thudded against the slick deck, and she assisted in hauling anything of immediate importance below deck. Each heartpounding moment livened her veins, quickened her pulse and an ornery grin appeared on her features. Ever the utility seawoman, most especially during times of strife, did she find Captain Zulimar upon completion of her most recent task. He appeared much like her Mentor, stocky and with an anger to rival a Bull’s. Maristela’s drive for more had her wanting to poke the Bull, but she avoided it, for now. His thunderous voice echoed above the roaring of the storm, calling forth orders to the available crew. That rush continued, the slamming of doors and the whistling wind, but just like the thousands of times before - they did it, made it through the storm. This time, though, there was an end goal. Weathered boots assisted in the climb of the Crow’s nest once more, peering out over the pre-dawn sky after making quick work of the rungs. Sooted wings soared ahead, its catch of the day clutched within talons and that grin drove forth once more. “Land-ho!”

7th of the First Seed in the year of our Lord; 2043. ove finds a way, past that of station and background, of varying circumstances. It is a powerful medium in a time so filled with strife and war. Having met as children, no one could have predicted the love that would blossom between the intended couple. A boy from Grense, seeking glory and to serve the Imperium. A Lady from Stirland, focused upon friendship and the loveliest dresses. How the two have grown alongside one another, not a whirlwind but steady, honest and lasting. What has built between them both is a life, one they intend to solidify and invite those to join in the celebrations as the house of Bellegrave is formed in full. THE CEREMONY [Friday the 29th, 5pm EST, Cathedral of St. Raguel] You are cordially invited to the wedding between Sir Gedeon Bellegrave and Lady Lucrezia Rovare. The nuptials will take place in the Cathedral of Saint Raguel, ordained by Father Avartagh. CELEBRATIONS Wish the couple your best! After the conclusion of the wedding, attend the after celebrations with Lord and Lady Bellegrave, taking place within their home. Sample cakes shall be brought out for those to enjoy, alongside a song provided by Lady Bellegrave. FORMAL INVITATIONS PERSONAL INVITATIONS Sir Gedeon “The Loyal” Bellegrave, Black Knight of the Red Dragon Her Ladyship, Lucrezia Rovare, Lady of Oakhaven