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FROM THE FIEFDOM OF GARENBRIG PENNED ON THE 12TH OF THE DEEP COLD, YEAR 181 OF THE SECOND AGE More Heralds travel from the cliffs of Garenbrig’s borders, bearing another message. “From here on, let it be known that the Levy of Garenbrig is no more. The Fiefdom of Garenbrig shall henceforth be protected and manned by the Knightly Order of the Pyre. In a land bordering the great Aran-In-Eryn, or “Kingswood”, the need of warriors of Noble Stock has been deemed increasingly necessary. Suffering adversity from Cultists, their dark gods, great beasts, poachers and undead, the safety of the Town of Garenbrig is under question. Thus, the newly dubbed “Knights of the Pyre”, or the “Order of the Pyre” shall begin building its rank to serve this purpose, to protect the peoples of Garenbrig from the threats that lurk in the dark corners of the world. Therefore, if you are interested in Knighthood, Holy Purpose, and the Slaying of Monsters, look no further.” Enclosed on the messenger’s parchment, of which he hands out, reads the following information: THE KNIGHTS OF THE ORDER An order of Guardians, Hunters, and Errantry The Knights of the Pyre, their namesake taken from the sigil of House Glennmaer, serves the Fiefdom of Garenbrig, vassal land of Numendil, bordering the Kingswood. An Order of Courageous soldiers, Knights, and aspiring squires, the Order of the Pyre prides themselves on their keen and ready ability to slay great beasts, and swathes of the servants of Iblees. The Tower-Pyre symbolizes not only the enduring nature of the order, and the house it belongs to, but also the purity of GOD’s flame, and a shining beacon that all may flock to when in need. The Order sigil consists of the same Sigil as house Glennmaer, now serving as their official order of Knights, though the sunset hues of Glennmaer banners are replaced with a dark gray, to represent the enduring Light of the Pyre regardless of its surroundings. Green is used as a primary color for Uniforms, signifying the good green land that GOD granted the Descendants. Being a Knightly Order of Numenedain origin, it follows three simple rules as part of its Dogma: I. Follow the Scrolls, and take to heart the word of GOD. II. Follow the Code of Chivalry, be you Knight or Soldier. III. Hunt the beast wherever it hides. No corner of the Realm is to be left without the Light. As alluded to within the dogma, the Duty of a Pyre soldier, Knight or not, is to make their name through the guardianship of Garenbrig, by hunting any servants of the dark within their fiefdom, and bordering lands. Whether it be sprites and pixies swapping babies in the crib, or goliaths that threaten the land with their thunderous gravity, it is the duty of the order to be rid of them, swiftly and without fear. RANKINGS AND TRAPPINGS The Knightly Order of the Pyre consists of three ranks. I. Initiates Recruits of the Order, yet to prove themselves in a conflict. Armed with lighter arms and armor to facilitate training and conditioning. This rank serves as a trial of sorts, and soldiers rarely spend much time as an Initiate. II. Man-At-Arms Infantry Soldiers of the Order, who are not knighted, but are trained and oathed to service. These soldiers receive full gear in the form of Coats-of-Plate / Brigandine, various weaponry, shields, rations, and of course, a Saint’s-Weekly pay. As these Men-At-Arms do not bear the title of “Squire”, their duties do not include the dressing and serving of Knights, for they are merely expected to follow their orders and learn from them. Being a Man-At-Arms qualifies any man or woman for Knighthood, providing they display excellence. III. Knights Soldiers who have proven themselves, and taken it upon themselves to learn the ways of the Knight, according to the recommended and widely accepted list of training that all Numenedain squires undergo. These men and women are often Knighted after a loyal, decently lengthy service, for displaying excellence. Once Knighted, they are given the appropriate Plate armor of Garenbrig, and provided with their own Heraldry, either to their specific likings or chosen by the Lord of Garenbrig, whichever is preferred. PRACTICE Whilst the Order of the Pyre isn’t a church-based Order, it still aims to serve GOD primarily, along with the Kingdom of Numendil, through acting as a protection from wayward evils. To this end, the Knights take up a Crusade-like practice of “Going Errant” on a regular basis. Banding together as a single host to scour the lands of Numendil, and perhaps further abroad, to hunt and purge the Dark, be they servants of Iblees or Otherwise. To this end, all are given training with the Lance, and Horse, so that they may more efficiently make their searches. Along with riding and lance training, they will also be instructed on how to combat various beasts and evils, according to the current Numenedain standard, and how to “test” for Darkspawn. DEEDS Members of the Order, be they Knight, Man-At-Arms, or Initiate, are all entitled to their own scroll. These scrolls record every deed that a member has enacted. The slaying of beasts, the ousting of Darkspawn, the saving of a Life. Anything noteworthy is forever recorded in their scroll, with numerous copies created, allowing their name to gain fame and glory across Aevos, and not just in the halls of Formindon. Members are also entitled to display their trophies in the sanctum of Formindon, where they can be seen by any and all members of the order, in whatever state they wish to display said trophies in. Unless they leak blood (or similar) down the walls. ENLISTING To enlist within the order, contact Lord Glyndwr of Formindon. Or, fill out an application / stop by Garenbrig.

FROM THE FIEFDOM OF GARENBRIG PENNED ON THE 13TH OF AMBER COLD OF THE S.A. 181 Heralds travel from the hills and cliffs of Garenbrig, spreading news that various duties and workers are in demand, to serve the town of Garenbrig, House Glennmaer, and the Kingdom of Númendil. With its recent expansion of numerous townhouses and farm cottages, businesses and farmland, the House may offer a great many jobs for the size to which it has grown. Any and all are welcome, so long as they fit the descriptions of the work. House Glennmaer bolsters an experienced group of leaders, so any workers employed may expect generous guidance, a yearly salary (saint’s week), hospitality and gratification for their quality efforts, along with medicinal care on behalf of Lord Glyndwr and any other Glennmaer Alchemists. The opportunities offered are as follows: FARM HANDS Farmers are expected to know their general way about the Garenbrig farmland, and how to keep them maintained. This entails harvesting products of the farm, tilling and planting the fields with seed, and sorting the harvested materials. There are currently [ 3 ] Farmhand positions open, though any wishing to live as such in Garenbrig, with no vacancies open, may request a new Farm Cottage be built, which is most likely to be accepted. Farm Hands receive the following payment & luxuries: I. A Farm cottage, with the farmer’s field at the doorstep (or close to it). II. Reduced taxes in exchange for Hay Bales. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. GUARDSMEN, SOLDIERS, ARCHERS, AND SQUIRES House Glennmaer is a Militant house, having gained their position and lands through serving Númendil and its predecessor, Barrowton, as seasoned soldiers and Knights. Glennmaer Guardsmen are expected to be disciplined, well-trained, and fearless. Where many men make enemies of other descendants, or likewise, house Glennmaer has only ever called the servants of the Dark, and their conspirators enemies. There is no room for cowardice. However, a guard should be temperate, and entirely professional, refraining from wanton cruelty or aggression where possible. Their duties while employed under the Fiefdom of Garenbrig are to patrol its lands, be present at house meetings or functions, and be at the family’s disposal when house members venture on outings. This position has No Limit. Guardsmen, Archers and other Soldiery receive the following payment & luxuries: I. A yearly salary of 20 minas. II. Bonus payments of 10 minas per event, or special escort attended. III. Armour and weapons, provided so one’s job can be performed adequately. (PVP Gear and food, including RP weapons, and armor skins.) IV. Free housing within the Barracks or keep, should no housing be available in the town. Squires receive the following: I. All the benefits listed above for Soldiery. II. Training in the ways of the Knight, including: Weapon Use & Maintenance Armor Use & Maintenance Jousting Marksmanship Education of the Holy Scrolls Education of the Code of Chivalry Etiquette Education of Oaths and their Importance Horse Care & Advanced Riding Education III. Knighthood, on successfully completing their training and showing exceptional prowess. APOTHECARY AND PHYSICIANS An Apothecary, and their physicians, are expected to have knowledge on the use of Herbs, Alchemicals, or other materials of which they can make use of to treat those with injuries, illnesses, or other afflictions. The Apothecary must be a trained Alchemist with at least eight saint’s weeks of experience. Physicians need not know Alchemy at all, though should have knowledge of medical practice, such as surgery, balancing humors, and herbal remedies. Physicians will receive the following benefits: I. Access to the Castle hall and Infirmary. II. Free food every Saint’s week. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. IV. Free herbs, with excess, when taking requests from the Garenbrig military. (Providing the Physician is also an Alchemist). V. If interested, a role within the Guard as a Combat Physician, qualifying for all Guard benefits. The Apothecary will receive the following benefits: I. A designated Townhouse, with room for a free basement extension, and a ground-floor Shop space. II. Standard Townhouse tax, with no upcharge for business space. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. IV. Free herbs, with excess, when taking requests from the Garenbrig military. V. A position within Garenbrig’s council. VI. All of the above benefits listed for Physicians. JESTER, FOOL, AND FUNNY PERSONS The Garenbrig Fool, or otherwise designated Jape-Master, should be funny, preferably. Knowing the limits as to when, what, and how to jest, in terms of the Númenedain Law and Scroll of Virtue. This position is mainly aimed towards those who can entertain House Children, Wards, or other young persons, though may also take on duties as a TOWN CRIER, delivering any important news, at their discretion, thus needing to be someone who can read the contents of Aevos missives. The Garenbrig Funny-Person will receive the following: I. Access to the Castle hall and Infirmary. II. Free food every Saint’s week. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. IV. A place within the Council. This benefit is not an opportunity for jokes, japes, or tricks. This is an advisory position aimed towards making sure good relations are kept through manners, friendliness, and reduced outwards adversity. Also, to make sure that things aren’t taken too seriously. V. Free housing within the Castle of Formindon. THIS POSITION WILL REQUIRE YOU TO BE TESTED. There have been far too many funny darkspawn in Númendil. MASTER OF FESTIVALS, INNKEEPER, AND BARKEEPS Barkeeps are expected to know good manners, be able to hold basic conversations, be friendly, and to be open to learning the systems of serving drinks. The Garenbrig Barkeeps will receive the following benefits: I. One free drink per saint’s day. II. Free food every Saint’s week. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. IV. 33% cut off all drink sales, using the automatic cellar system of Gnomish design. The Innkeeper or Master of Festivals is expected to carry out all duties of the Barkeep, however they must also manage the Inn Rooms, source stock, and manage any festivities within Garenbrig. Initiative should be taken to formulate ideas for festivities and proposed to the Garenbrig Council The Innkeeper or Master of Festivals will receive: I. All benefits listed above for Barkeeps. II. A Free room in the Tavern, or Castle, whichever is preferred. May also dig out a large basement chamber for themselves, should they wish, under the tavern. III. A Position within the Council of Garenbrig, along with access to the Castle Hall and Cellar. BREWER AND BEEKEEPER The Brewer of Garenbrig is expected to know how to brew beverages, specifically Mead, Whiskey, Ale, and their derivatives. Any other beverages are accepted also, though these drinks are required. The Garenbrig Brewer will receive: I. Free Housing in the Garenrbig Brewery, along with sole management of the building. II. Free food every Saint’s week. III. Free tools upon request, made of the sturdiest materials possible. IV. One mina per bottle produced upon request. These drinks will be sold for a low price in the tavern, ensuring barkeeps can receive pay for service, and any further profit goes towards the upkeep of the tavern and town. V. A beekeeping yard, of which the Brewer may use to whatever end they fancy, as long as they are able to produce Mead for the tavern from gathered Honey. VI. Freedom to employ other brewers, limited to two. APPLYING To apply for any of the above positions, contact Lord Glyndwr of Formindon or Princess Eriantiel of Númenost. Or fill out an application or stop by Garenbrig. All positions will come with training unless said otherwise. Application Form:

𝕽𝖆𝖛𝖓 𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖗𝖆 𝖁𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝔪𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 108 𝔅.𝔄 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔢𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 Ave and graze teu for taking the time to consider my electoral program. My name is Ravn Casemire Vuiller, a descendant of an ancient and noble lineage, steadfastly loyal to the crown of our beloved Regnum Balian for generations. Though not the youngest candidate, I bring a wealth of wisdom garnered over more than five decades spent abroad. I offer this accumulated knowledge to serve our kingdom diligently. Having achieved success in various fields, ranging from education since my youth to trade, I am well-prepared to contribute meaningfully to the governance of our realm. I, Ravn Casemira Vuiller, stand before you as a prospective Speaker of the Senate in the upcoming election. 𝔐𝔶 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪 As Senator, my first action would be the establishment of a partially state-owned enterprise. This entity would harness our kingdom's resources from both below and above ground to benefit the northern regions, thereby enhancing our influence, prestige, and revenue. This initiative would create new employment opportunities, enabling ordinary citizens to invest their resources for profit and become trusted merchants. Let us transform our magnificent realm into a bustling trading hub. This is my vision, my mission as your potential Senator. I urge you to cast your vote for me, Ravn Casemira Vuiller, for a prosperous future for our people. Signed by Dona Ravn Casemira Vuiller

Once more did missive and letters would reach the entrances of many human, elven, dwarven and orc lands. The same golden anorum pinned missive was there on display, yet one can notice it was not just their, but from their guard houses or palace equivilent. A singular fine parchment of paper which adored golden ink in writing. Stating the following in each of their unique script that fit the race's cultures. To the lands of Aevos, I have done what many could not. The one who terrorized, the true evil that had given Devils a bad name.The one who started this whole fiasco. The one who dared to speak her honeyed words and forcefully converted those of Aevos into other Devils. To the people of Aevos; I tell you this. The one named Sermi, The Pitiful servant of the Inferi, has fallen to my blade. She had dared to enter my territory, under the identity of another. She was apprehended, with information provided by one of her victims, Leoni Chevalier had sealed her fate. Sermi had no regret for her actions. Her intent was to sow chaos within the world. Yet she had no time to beg to her greater inferi for saving, and the depths of the Moz shall be her home. The items on her person have been reduced to dust that was scattered by the wind. Her head had been severed and her corpse was burned under the moonlit sky to be scattered within the sea. To the humans: The one who took your people just to curse them has fallen, but no doubt those that still serve the inferi will attempt to sow chaos in her stead. I say that they are next if any are caught within my sights. As they always had been. I ask the people of Aevos not to Judge Devil-kind just by their looks. I ask that you instead judge by actions. As many of you are taught to do with your own kind. Remain vigilant or dark times will always come looming in corners. Allow ones willing to do their best to keep the people safe. Signed, The Infernal Slayer, The Redeemed of Arcas

THE FLAMES BECKON -=+=-=+[-]+=-=+=- -=+=-=+[-]+=-=+=- To those damned, the sunlit peaks shone like salvation. To those liberated, they gleamed like succession. To those neither damned nor liberated, twisted nor blessed- the peaks were naught but ascension. Naught but glory. Rebirth. TO THOSE LOST. ||=||👁||=|| The days of harrowed pasts. ||=||👁||=|| The days of sweltered futures. ||=||👁||=|| The days of such past and future converge to the present. The time has come to become found. The gates of Tor’Praeth swing open- those who wish to visit may visit. Those who seek to know a place in the world; those who seek to know their sights within the realm are welcome. To seek flame is not a mere pastime. It is something further, an arduous task to seek one’s place in the realms. To seek what drives one- to seek Asioth. To seek beckoning flames is to beckon a seeking pyre. To tempt a stray flame is to be prepared to scorch flesh. Yet with that risk comes fruition- a pathway to a truth beyond apotheosis, knowledge beyond prescience, and willpower beyond sublimation. Reach the Northwest peaks of Redmont. Scour the lands, find thy gates which stand strong; find us. To those who seek us, seek power, strength, knowledge, wisdom, or Asioth: WE AWAIT THEE. [To seek an interaction, DM Pallodium (@pallodium) on Minecraft or Discord.] OOC:

[!] A pamphlet is plastered upon the walls of certain institutions of public and commercial correspondences. Others would be spread through couriers and birds to the Aevosian public. “And there was peace and holiness, for the priests had returned from long persecution and spoke the Word of GOD in temples and courts.” Gospel 6:48 PRINTED BY THE IMPERIAL SOCIETY OF EXALTED HOREN 5th of Horen’s Calling, 1970 Dear Reader, As the current carriage of our circumstances travels upon the fickle road of humanity’s future, the multiple divergent paths before us compels me to ask myself and my fellow faithful flock of GOD’s children about our intuitions of an ideal future. I believe we are at the crossroads once again. However, many of us have never been on these crossroads before. This uncertainty and anxiety can brew into a noxious chemical of fear and impulsive reactions to any word that contains the word “human unity.” Nevertheless, such fear is understandable and justly rationalized given the unfamiliarity or less intimate familiarity of our common past. Although records exist of humanity’s past accomplishments since the time of Exalted Horen, the records also contain our failures. We can speak of unity as much as we wish, but without acknowledging the past mistakes and failures of our collective identity and taking it in consideration with our past successes, I fear that a proper consensus of our shared future can never be reached. We must address this lack of communication with the common individual and, rather, converse with them and invite them to share their thoughts on the future of mankind. The Nenzing Proclamation provided a groundwork for the basic ideals which we have attempted to uphold since the progenesis of our civilization: life, liberty, and due process. Proclamation of Nenzing, Joseph I, et. al. (1715). Such a proclamation, seen as groundbreaking at that time, can also be argued as a codification of a bundle of rights already existing within the intricate natural rights of humankind ordained to us through the Scrolls of Virtue and Gospel. This bundle of rights can be seen as a sacred interest in fee simple which should be protected through any means necessary. The question becomes, were such rights properly protected in the most recent iteration of the Holy Orenian Empire? The verdict remains divided. Although it is true that prominent efforts were taken to protect the Rights of Man, the results and consequences of these efforts remain a controversial enigma as of now, especially towards the recent Eighth Holy Orenian Empire. Ser Simon Basrid’s statement famously titled The Tapestry of Man argues that the Novellen Empire did indeed protect and further Joseph Marna’s vision and further enhanced it to create a unified culture, a tapestry of sorts where each thread of mankind’s actions weaved the fabrics of the tapestry of man. The Tapestry of Man, Simon I Basrid (1749). But the chief opposing view tends to criticize the heavily bureaucratic system of the Eighth Empire which some believe was disastrous to faster human progress Dare to Question Aevosian Unification & Imperialism, Erik I Colborn (1967). However, many scholars also articulate a neutral point of view on the Eighth Empire: its earlier bureaucratic institutions provided for a more collected and united human civilization that championed the three principle ideas of life, liberty, and due process; but the further unnecessary expansion of the bureaucracy led to the empire’s stagnation and downfall. The Decline and Fall of the Holy Orenian Empire Volume XII - Epilogue, Justinian Nafis & Adolphis Gloriana (1911). The latter work provides a neutral, albeit less detailed analysis of the recent empire. If the monumental project of human unity is to be undertaken, it is in the best interest of mankind to follow a collective consensus to further human progress. The protection of the Rights of Man should be given priority. The protection of the Canon Faith and The Holy Mother Church should also be given its utmost priority. I am of the belief that for the betterment of humanity, unity is necessary. However, we need not take complete inspiration from the Eighth Empire. Perhaps we do not need to form an empire to achieve unity but rather a union or commonwealth is sufficient, but such a radical idea requires strong foundations and further debate. Nevertheless, it is better to look to and beyond the Eighth Empire, and utilize the successful systems of its predecessors such as the Fourth, Fifth or Sixth Empires, to create a more universal system of human reunification. Notwithstanding the current climate and regardless of my own beliefs I would like to listen to my fellow aevosians on your view of the current climate of mankind. I ask you, dear reader, to answer three questions: What does it mean to be human? What rights should be protected for the faithful flock of mankind? And lastly, if you dare to dream, how should we achieve unity and camaraderie amongst our fellow human brethren? It is justifiable to oppose an empire, for the arguments against one are well founded. However, if we are to achieve unity, a proper system and framework is required to further the virtue of mankind. We need not become unnecessarily centralized. However, fragmentation is not a solution. Thus, a middle ground is imperative. To achieve such, let us look into our past and utilize the tools mankind has gathered through its colorful history to further our future, and create a universal system that may perhaps respect the rights of mankind and cultural autonomy in synergetic resonance. In Your Humble Presence, Ivan var Ruthern of the County of Marsana, Member of the Society of Exalted Horen References: Joseph I, et. al., Proclamation of Nenzing (1715) Simon I Basrid, The Tapestry of Man (1749) Erik I Colborn, Dare to Question Aevosian Unification & Imperialism (1967) Justinian Nafis & Adolphis Gloriana, The Decline and Fall of the Holy Orenian Empire Volume XII - Epilogue (1911)

TLDR: Looking for a player for 38 year old guy belonging to House Veiel, fun family rp with events, cool house in the Duchy of Brabant, last ditch effort before PK-ing this character. Hello Gamers ✨, Do you ever have things you forget about? Yes? So do I, this character, Edmond Veiel-Lynott is one of them. He is the 13880 day old, 456 month old, 38 year old, red headed son of my persona, Adelaide Veiel-Lynott, who is older than the baked goods in the back of her cabinets. He has two adopted cousins who act as sisters and a twin brother (all played), he also has several aunts, uncles and cousins in the Theonus family. He lives in the Duchy of Brabant (vassal under Dunwén), but things are generally open for what he's been doing these past 38 years, where he's been, what he likes, essentially everything. The family has a lovely culture we've been working on based around stars, flowers, and lots of alcoholism :) We also love to host events when able with things such as wine-tasting and baking contests, we hope to hold more such as dances. (P.S, he does have a skin, but if you want a new one that's cool too, whatever is preferred!) I previously posted a looking for group for this same character when he was much younger, but unfortunately that didn't work out. Hopefully this one does! Or else he dies and it will be your fault :)) ︵‿·:✧༻·:︵‿୨୧‿︵:·༺✧:·‿︵ Contact Toodles6 on Discord for further questions.

Octam Praefectae [A missive would be hanged up in Caelia and in other cities in the Silver Empire] On this day I Legatvs C. Ramnesivs Dentatvs announce the retirement of Praefectvs M. Manlivs Capitolinvs. In these uncertain times the Senate cannot go without a leader so I Legatvs C. Ramnesivs Dentatvs proclaim myself Praefectvs, as Praefectvs I will continue in our efforts to combat the servants of the Wealthy One and barbarii raiders. I will step down after the next election and when the Senate is secure. Praefectvs C. Ramnesivs Dentatvs

Sacrificium Soledevm In Ancient days, the four brothers would triumph over the wrath of Malignivs, chaos would be subdued and the planes would begin to heal. But it was not long until Malignivs now sealed in the void, would use his mighty power to summon a near invincible army to defeat those who defied him. Confusion and panic plagued the planes with mortal men and women defenseless against the voidal forces. The brothers Orenivs, Avritvs, Crvgnivs, witnessing their great kingdoms crumble to cinder and ash would one by one retreat into a last great stronghold ruled by the last of the four brothers Pvmillivs. In this great stronghold built of rock and stone the four brothers would hold a great council. The first of the four brothers to speak would be Avritvs who said his mighty magic had no effects on the voidal horrors, after Avritvs the second to speak up would be Crvgnivs who said his fists could not damage the putrid beings and the last to speak would be Orenivs who said his sword made of the finest ferrum couldn’t even pierce the demonic flesh. It was only then that Pvmillivs, saying nothing, would walk into the middle of the three and flicking his wrist dark fire would come out of his hands. After a moment of silence Pvmillivs would break it saying “This is our weapon to defeat our enemies my brothers, I have read the books of our enemies and have found great powers and riches. Your swords, magic and might may not work on these creatures but my stolen power will protect us all.” Avritvs, seeing the path to more knowledge and a way to protect his few remaining children would agree with Pvmillivs, but the two other brothers would argue against this. The brothers Orenivs and Crvgnivs, not being able to reason with the other two brothers, would make their way out of the stronghold; setting up a camp on a neighboring mountain. While the two brothers and their sons would begin work on their camp they would send out five scouts to search for the enemy. The orcs would cut down trees with their mighty axes and the humans would set barricades in place for the battle ahead. After a day of work, the joint camp would be completed and the first of the scouts would return, a son of Crvgnivs by the name of Magdenius. Magdenius was a mighty uruk standing a head above most of his kind and skin as green as grass. Magdenius would first speak to his father about the horde of voidal horrors, Crvgnivs would respond by getting his and Orenivs sons ready for the battle. Magdenius would then tell Orenivs who would respond by setting up a shrine to the gods and asking Magdenius to fetch him the largest ox of the herd. Magdenius would then nod his head to Orenivs understanding the importance of his task, he would run off to the Ox herd to fetch the great ox for he knew in his heart this is what would win the battle. As Magdenius would begin his search the horde of putrid beings would arrive between the dwarf stronghold and the orc-human camp. Splitting up their forces half of the great unholy horde would charge at the orc-human camp and the other half would charge at the great stronghold. As the first of the enemies reached the outskirts of both camps great voidal fire would rain down onto the putrid beings attacking the stronghold; burning the weakest of them to ash and wounding the strongest of them. Seeing this, Crvgnivs not wanting to be outdone would let out a great wagh and with his sons, and the sons of Orenivs would charge toward the enemies. Before fully reaching their enemies the army of men and orcs would throw javelins wounding few in the demonic army and would in turn prime their spears ready for attack. As the great battle began Magdenius would continue his search looking all over the herd for the Great Ox, before going to the tallest tree of the forest and climbing it. Using all of his orcish strength and fortitude Magdenius would climb the great tree, as he looked up he would see a Mighty Eagle made of light. Seeing the Mighty Eagle; Magdenius, sweat coming off of his mighty arm would climb the tree as fast as he could. At the top of the tree, Magdenius would see the Mighty Eagle, he would ask the godly Eagle “Oh where is this great ox that Orenivs sent me to find, I have searched high and low and I have seen every ox in this mighty herd.” It was only then the Mighty Eagle would say “Oh Magdenius you have searched high and low, far and wide, but you have missed the great ox.” After a moment of silence, Magdenius would climb down the tree and would start to run back toward camp. As Magdenius ran over the final hill he would look across at the great battle; the army of the sons of Orenivs and Crvgnivs had retreated to their camp. Javelins would fall on to the great voidal horrors and swords would cut into the flesh of the daemons. Magdenius would flank around the fighting and meet back up with Orenivs; Magdenius would slowly look over the great fire Orenivs had set before slowly saying “I am ready Orenivs for I know who is the Great Ox ''. Magdenius would then climb into the fire shouting his prayer to the gods before quickly pulling out his axe; he would use it to cut his throat with one quick slice. It was then that dark clouds far above the battle would split as golden light would shine down, turning the dark clouds bright and turning the fire of the pyre into a bright yellow. The battle would pause for a moment as even the dark horrors would stop and watch as slowly from the sky a man made of fire and light would fly down with wings made of aurum. The man; no, the God would shout with his voice made of confection and brimstone “Orenivs, Pvmillivs, Crvgnivs and Avritvs come to me and witness this miracle made with the blood of the honorable.” It was only then the god would land onto the pyre standing over the body of Magdenius. Orenivs would quickly make his way to the pyre and would look upon the god, then Crvgnivs would make his way looking up at the body of Magdenius, then Pvmillivs and Avritvs would arrive using the power of the void to appear out of nothing. It was only when the four brothers were looking up at the pyre Orenivs would say “Oh Soledevm, God I pray to you to give us Purity and Justice, please save us from these putrid beings made of the void.” Soledevm looking down at Orenivs would respond “What you ask for is something I can do but it will weaken me for the upcoming battle, but I will do it.” Soledevm would then pull out a mighty sword made of fire and light and with a flick of his wrist he would make a large gash in his chest. Soledevm would then let his blood flow out of his body, some of it would land onto stone turning it into pure aurum but most of it would pool under the god. Soledevm would excruciatingly speak “Put one item into my blood and it will turn it into a metal of purity.” The first of the brothers to put something into the blood would Crvgnivs, putting his axe in the blood; a few of Crvgnivs fingers would turn into aurum but Crvgnivs would simply laugh it off. The next brother would be Orenivs putting his mighty sword into the blood, pulling it out of the blood the sword would shine with light and would now be made of pure aurum. Pvmillivs would rush next, pulling out his crown and putting it in the blood, the rubies on the crown would slowly turn into aurum; blood slowly dripping down still. Pvmillivs not seeming to notice or care about the blood would carelessly put the crown on his head letting the blood leak onto his hair turning it into aurum as well. The last to walk up was Avritvs, slowly Avritvs would pull out his great wooden staff and would put it in the blood turning the staff into aurum. After each of the brothers would choose their weapon, Soledevm would fly off, his blood landing on the ground causing more aurum to be created. Some of the blood would land onto voidal horrors causing them to explode into more aurum, The great army of the enemy would slowly retreat as they’re great warriors turned into great statues of aurum. The armies of the descendants would cheer as the day was saved. After the great battle, the brothers would return to their own lands and begin to rebuild. More armies of the void would be summoned but each of them would be dealt with by the power of aurum. In the lands of Crvgnivs would be built a temple to the god Soledevm and in that temple would be a statue of Magdenius.

In anticipation of Vikela’s continued prosperity, the esteemed OFFICE OF MAYOR is reinstated, marking a moment of pride and jubilation within THE KINGDOM OF VIKELA THE MAYOR holds significant responsibilities, including the facilitation of events and celebrations, overseeing guilds and craftsmen to ensure adherence to regulations, & mediating disputes. Additionally, during council meetings (excluding those pertaining to warfare), they can propose new laws. At the end of their term, they have the opportunity to pursue governmental roles. To participate in these elections, citizens must meet specific criteria: - Minimum age of eighteen - Citizenship in Vikela - Absence of no more than two charges from the Justice Office - Ministers may not run, and the Heir of Vikela may not run. Candidates are encouraged to showcase their candidacy through small events and the hanging of informative missives to the public. The candidate with the highest number of votes will assume the esteemed position of MAYOR for a ten-year term, after which a new election cycle commences. A designated box at THE BOJO BANK will serve as the platform for citizens to officially declare their candidacy. Once their name is deposited within the box, they are granted the freedom to campaign openly and engage with fellow citizens to garner support for their bid.

'I burned the book...' by Dohaabbou ( https://www.deviantart.com/dohaabbou/art/I-burned-the-book-946109318 ) [!] A bundle of seared notes was released into air inside the capital cities of Human realms across the continent. They split and land upon the cobbles, at the feet of various passer-bys, their edges smouldering. Dear Horen's beloved Children, Do you feel it? The beating heart, newly pulsing. A rejuvenation, a clearance in mind from past transgressions and views: this is a message to those who are afraid. Those who hover their palm above the fire, afraid to lower it. You are afraid of prejudice from your fellow countrymen, yet are intrigued by the wings of the Great Titan shadowing your buildings and your crops. Hearken to mine words and understand them; the Apotheosis of my Father comes soon. Asioth moves quickly, and yet you still seat yourself in the dark. To be tempered in flame is the only way to not be left when the world is reborn anew. Do you feel it? A new heartbeat, one that pulses within us all. Join this feeling in it's new purpose. Free from discrimination, free from prejudice. Encouraging discovery, knowledge and power within yourself. I await you in fields of ash. [!] Upon the viewer reaching the end of the missive, the scorches at the edges of the paper would seemingly be refuelled, collapsing the page in your hands to nought but ash and soot.

Protection of the Southern Summit 2nd of The Grand Harvest SA 168 The chapter is written in a hurry, with a thin layer of sand coating it. The Southern Summit is near, and there is a lot of work to do. I'm one of the shamans appointed to help guard this place from buurz infiltrators. It's the largest meeting I'll be attending yet, next to that party at Haelun'or...that was a blast, everyone of my bruddas got wasted. Good times. But back to work! May Jevex give me the strenght to carry on those tasks. There is salt and aurum to be spead, for it prevents demons, undead and other darkspawns from entering, shall there be unwanted attention form those corrupted forces. May Scorthuz protect us and cleanse all the taint creeping towards the meeting. There are totems to erect and wards to cast, but since I'm not yet powerful enough to do it myself I'll lend my energy to the other shamans performing the rituals: hopefully my lessons will bring me closer to the great shamans we have at the lodge. May Theruz guide me in the pursuit of the knowledge. The sand shifts hot, but we shall be tougher. The wind blows strong, but we will be stronger. The mountain stands unwavering, and we will be steadfast in the reaching of this alliance-to-be. Lûp'Krug, gaakh ghûlumta'izishu morûzalul!

No respite from the Struggle A sickly, tiring woman sat sequestered in an attic. Often the space was ablaze with lantern light and brimming with letters of correspondence. This eve, it was dim. The papers so neatly stacked in their cabinets were left strewn on the floorboards; scattered in a nonsensical array and stitched back together at the seams. The Farfolk's face was enshrouded like the rest of the room, graced only by the flicker of a single flaming candle she had happened to forget up there amongst her chests of trinkets and memorabilia. Useless clutter, really, which served no purpose. Just the same as the blank pages full of words she sought to puzzle into a pleasing shape. Like ritual they were rearranged. Over and over and over. But always a piece was left out; unfit; inconsolable. Irreconcilable. Starkly pallid green eyes strained against the waning flame to see something, anything, in spite of the shadows that encroached closer. Once rich and deeply verdant, the pair responsible for vision failed to muster any color from the page. There was never enough time to make sense of it all. However much could be found was already being lost; any that was created was always being destroyed. Stolen, taken, lost, destroyed. Stolen, taken, lost, destroyed. Understanding became impossible. Where was it coming from? How could one possibly recapture all the time constantly slipping through their fingers. How could anyone find the full picture again. How do I get it back? Weakness Consumes. Strength Creates. Content fades to nothing. Ambition seizes all.Limits.Define.Infinite.Potential. Isabella's breath hitched as she was thrust back into the world like a fleck of the Heaven's spat out spit. Her limbs trembled; her body overcome with a cold sweat yet again. The candle had long since burned out. She struggled to her feet and traced her fingers against the wall, wading blindly through the trail she set for herself. Running her palm over the cabinets, Isabella guided her frail form out of the attic. Ultimately, she found her way back to the light of day, but not after receiving the same answer from a different question. The same question that begets every answer.

Fabula honoris et mendacii Within the confines of the Vlasto villa, Leonardo takes a seat and starts reviewing his journal. He flips back to the first entry and reads, "13th of Sun’s Smile, Year 140. Today I equipped my Ma. . ." Upset that he couldn't fix his past, he stopped abruptly. Leo threw his Journal against the wall and started pacing the room, memories of his frater Tullius, late friend Marcus, and young Lucius haunting him. As Leo peered out at the Vrbe, he found himself unable to escape the weight of his past. Troubled, he made his way to Tullius' room and began to write a note: "Frater, Praeteritum ferre non possum. accipere locum praetoris et abdicare se non recuso, nec frater sum nec pater." Pinning the note to the door, he left for the tavern to drown his sorrows in a bottle of wine. A yawn escaped him as he popped the bottle open and took a sip. The wine cleared his mind, and he was once again alone with his thoughts. Reflecting on his past, Leonardo made his way to the Curia leaving his journal on his brother's seat as a last feat of honesty to his family. Leo called for his horse and made his way down south, finding his way to Haelunor. Leo dismounted from his horse and removed its saddle, letting it free. Before stepping onto the bridge connecting to Haelunor, he took one last large swig of the bottle before throwing it onto the ground. As he found his way further down the bridge, Leo peered over the edge, memories flooding back. He started to tighten down his Lorica Segmentata. Leonardo climbed up onto the railing, his mind flashing with images of the past. Turning around, he whispered, “Mendaces non habent honorem.” With that, he jumped off the edge, facing the night sky. His body spread out, waiting for the water to hit him and slowly take him underneath the surface. A few bubbles rose to the surface, but no struggle was seen. The body of Leonardo stayed beneath the surface, departed from life.

Historia Caeliae I. A Collection of a General History of the Caelian People. GENTE CAELIANVS [A.V.V. I] During the time of Velia, within the walls of Colonia Aeqivm the Contuberniae of Caelianvs and the supporting Cohort were driven out from the walls of the colony. This was after an altercation with a tribe of Ravenous Orcs terrorizing the Velian countryside. Due to an egregious emphasis on patricii the men who would soon be known as Caelians would pledge their support for Caelianvs of Ramneseivs; their pledges were hails of Imperator. Knowing the humbleness of the situation, Caelianvs would deny his title of Imperator and instead insist on the name of Praefectvs simply meaning the man in charge. Whilst the tribes of Caelia were marching from their colony in hopes of finding a new land to settle, the truth of divinity would make itself known to Caelianvs, that being his father who was the God of War Sacra Belldevm. Fighting off the forces of the void the Caelians would find themselves battered and beaten by the terrain and monsters that roamed the wilderness. Their ties to the gods were deepend by such tragedies; this can especially be said after the massacre committed by the Unicornii who stampeded into the Caelian camp and slaughtered the inhabitants of which totaled upwards of hundreds of the only 800 Caelians. Once arriving at what seemed to be a suitable spot for settlement the news of an invasion sweeping all of Atlas reached the Caelian Tribes of which preparations were made immediately. Setting sail the Caelians took a similar treacherous path to the rest of the descendants as they sailed south around Atlas into what would be known as Arcas. The Caelians had made landfall on an island to the south of the rest of humanity, there a harsh desert marked the northern border of their people and life was prosperous. [A.V.V. XVII] All could not be well within Caelia forever as the two sons of Caelianvs whom had grown up along their path in Atlas were now men and greed would soon take the better of them. Out of greed the older son Filione would murder his father in his sleep, the culprit was caught red handed by the Legionnaires as his flee was attempted. A small group of his supporters followed and a clash between those few followers and the Caelian Legion commenced in which the Younger Son Ivllianvs Ramneseivs vanquished his brother having him crucified and was hailed as the next Praefectvs. The Reign of Praefectvs Ivllianvs would last for 6 years before the settlement grew complacent and would become engulfed in a series of raids by bandits; the Caelian legion was routed and the civilians scattered into the Korvassan Desert. Humiliated by the loss Ivllianvs would take his own light upon life, surrendering his soul to the seven skies. [A.V.V. XXIII] CONTINVANDVM HISTORIA CAELIAE SECONDA CAELIA INVICTA SENATVS POPVLVSQVE. CAELIANVM

Recruitment for House von Augusten of the Petra - Introduction - House von Augusten, a Viscomital vassal of the Commonwealth of the Petra holds the land of the Viscounty of Azor, with its keep named Rikardsburg, being fully built and functional close by the city of Vallagne. Currently, there is one available adult male character in the mainline, born fourth to Viscount-Emeritius Konstantin von Augusten @TheosVult . All political / knightly / etc aspirations will be considered and we will try to help you achieve them if chosen. For reference, Konrad is currently 30 years old. Please DM fire1003 on discord if you’re interested in learning more about / playing the character below, and a skin can be provided: HIS LORDSHIP, Konrad Leopold von Augusten (1935) - Family Lore - House von Augusten was founded circa 1900-1903 by the Matriarch of Hohengarten, a county in the United Kingdom of Aaun. Countess Cosima Monika von Augusten (née d’Azor, Bishop) was the first High Emissary of Aaun, while her husband, Peter Leopold d’Azor resided over the maintenance of their estate in the Aurentanian mountains. After Cosima’s resignation as Countess, her eldest son, Konstantin, led the Comital House in Aaun as High Senschenel on the Privy Council until he decided to move his family to the Commonwealth of the Petra, following extended vampire allegations and other conflicts within Whitespire. After being granted the Viscounty of Azor in Petra, House von Augusten began rising in involvement in the government, and other organizations, with the current Viscount (Konrad's brother) being Vice-Chancellor of the Petra @DuhPuhWuh, and a daughter of Konstantin being a Knight of the Petrine Laurel @TaytoTot. House von Augusten owns the castle of Rikardsburg as the seat of their family, nestled near the capital city of Vallagne.

A Single Heiress A Calling for Suitors [!] A portrait of Lady Maria Denodado To you, whose heart aches and burns from the lack of a partner, a grand opportunity shall be opened, as the heiress to the viscounty of Banderas is single and, what is more, ready to mingle. Having recently reached her twenty third birthyear, she has found herself to be one of the few in her generation with that status, which caused the search for a potential suitor to be proven difficult. It is for this reason that House Denodado urges all respectable, preferably noble, single men to present themselves, as one of themmay become the future Viscount. Should you be interested, send a letter to Viscountess Annika Denodado (ooc: Lokvank) with the following format: Name: Age: Height (optional): Nationality: Nobility/Commoner:

Caelian Upbringing Customs “The Virtues of Virtus.” INFANTIA: Age 0-7 Birth Upon the birth of a new child, a Caelian Pater should not be present. Instead the Matrona should be surrounded by servants and friends. Regardless of the gender of the child; they are to be washed in oil and prepared for the Pater Familias. The Baby should then be presented to the PaterFamilias after washing, it is then that the PaterFamilias has decision over allowing the newborn into the family. If he declines the newborn; they are to be abandoned or raised as servants outside of the Familias. Naming If the child is accepted into the Familias by the PaterFamilias a naming celebration should be held one God's Day after their birth. It is Imperative that Caelians uphold their traditions by following the Tria Nomina. That is, the Praenomina, Nomina, and Cognomina. The First born male in a Familias should take the names of their Pater. The First born female in a Familias should take the names of their Mater as well. Praenomina The Praenomina is a Caelian’s Personal name, it is an informal name and should be used by their close friends and family members, each Familias should have a list of Praenomina that is used. When signing a Praenomina, it should be signed with an abbreviation (Marcus to M. Tullius to TVL. Lucius to L.) Nomina The Nomina is a Caelian’s Family Legacy, their Gentes. There are bound to be distantly related members of the same Gentes, but it is all one legacy and should be treated as such. Generally there is one Main branch of the original Gentes that has more merit than off branches. Examples of a Patricii Nomina are Ramneseius, Vlastos, Horlenia etc... When Signing a Nomina a Caelian can either write their name as plural or a singular word. (Ramneseius or Ramneseii, Vlastos or Vlastoi) Cognomina The Cognomina is a Caelian’s formal name, and is what glory should be held to. The Cognomina is a sign of legacy and each Cognomina should have a root meaning for it’s use. The Original Cognomina were used as nicknames, and Cognomina are directly transferred down to their first born, whilst new Cognomina are formed for secondary male births. For Women the Cognomina should reflect the order in which they were born. The first Born Girl being Prima/Primvs, second being Secundvs, Third being Tertia etc.. During the naming ceremony the child should be awarded gifts from guests; and an amulet from their Pater Familias. This Amulet is to signify Adolescence and should be worn until adulthood ADVLESCENTIA: Age 7-15 A Caelian child should be given their first Toga at 7 years old, this Toga should have a Purple stripe to signify their protection. It is solely up to the PaterFamilias and his Matrona how involved they are in the upbringing of their children. Schooling A Caelian child leading up to Puberty should be schooled in the affairs of Caelia and the world around them. If the PaterFamilias and his Matrona don't have time for such, It is acceptable to employ a Nurse or Pedagogus to help mold the child for Virtue. It is also acceptable for multiple familias, usually Plebeian, to employ one Pedagogus to teach a multitude of children. Caelian children usually enjoy a multitude of games and activities. Of which includes; War games with wooden weapons. A Game known as Battledore. Where a Pinecone is hit back and forth with paddles Board Games; Including games known as Tabvla and Latrones Sports; including wrestling, racing, boxing, swimming, etc.. Games that can be fashioned with a ball. Usually going into the seventh - twelfth year of a child’s life the Matrona would take a more active role in their daughter’s upbringing, and the Pater with their son’s. Preparing them for adulthood; allowing their children to make decisions and guide their destiny with their parent’s supervision. Once entering adulthood, Boys are expected to join the military, and Daughters marry; though dependent on their upbringing Daughters joining the military is not uncommon. The Values of Virtus are to be instilled and vehemently upheld. VIRTVS; Valor Masculinity Excellence Courage Piety In order for a Caelian to achieve Virtus it must be after they serve in the Legio. However the Values of Virtus can be applied to boys in preparation for Adulthood. Men who achieve Virtus are expected to worship the Gods, Strive to do extraordinary feats; and be the epitome of Masculinity. During the time of Advlescentia, boys are sent out into the wilderness alone with nothing but a Tunic. for a time of at least one week in order to prove their achievements in Virtus. ADVLTVS: 15 Onward Upon reaching 15 years old a Caelian child loses their protective status as an Advlescentia and ascends to the status of Advltvs. Men will be impressed into the military. For Men this is a time of newly found independence, young men are known for being unruly in and around taverns and eateries. It is while under the purview of their own pater familias expected for a young man to move out of their familial home and purchase a home for themselves with their new found grasp on wealth. For both Men and Women in the time of early Advltvs they are expected to undertake a profession along with their normal duties; for men this is sometimes given training in the Legio for trades such as Lumberers, Butchers, Carpenters, Smiths, Tailors, Sappers etc.. But, other professions may include but aren't limited to Farmers, Husbandry, Vintners, Merchants, Sailors, Alchemists, Bakers, Masonry, Apothecary, Fishermen, etc.. For those who seek to have greater success in life, they are expected to learn the trades of scribery so that they may pen documents of their own; since admission to the senate is made possible for anyone who is in the Military for 10 years or more; and would mean public recognition in the local election cycle Marriage is an important part of tradition and Women are expected to get married off once they turn 18; this is a family matter and all marriage is approved by the Pater Familias, marriage is generally used as a political tool between families to leverage alliances and deals with each other, the marriage ceremony is hosted by the groom's side in which they make their intent known and the bride's pater familias hands their daughter over to their new family. It is a status symbol for a new house of a gentes that being the second born son and their family from a familias to forge their own wealth and their own house; for what is more prestigious than the expansion of your clan through familial means. CAELIA INVICTA SENATVS POPVLVSQVE. CAELIANVM.

MORS OMNIA VINCIT EST Marcus never wanted to be a leader; the thought was always with him as he looked out his window at what he had helped build. He looked away from the city he had spent the last few years building with his best friend Tullius, and looked down at the plans for further expansion in the near future. He lets out a yawn as he looks over the plans once more; a tired expression on his old face. Yet, he kept working on the plans for this was his duty as a consul of the Caelian people. After a few moments, he would let out a sigh before going to grab the bottle of wine he kept on his desk, bringing the bottle to his mouth he starts to down the liquor. A moment of pure bliss, Marcus sets down the wine letting out a sigh as he looks out the window at Caelia. His mind started to wonder again, at the issue that was plaguing his mind; the issue of how to get the resources for the expansion of the city. Standing up from the desk, Marcus walks out of the room and into the stairway as he takes his first step down; he pauses midway through the step and starts to fall. Grabbing his chest as he continues to fall down the spiral staircase, his memories would start flashing before his eyes. A young boy fighting off the other tribes with everything he had but still failing, watching his mother die by those same tribes he failed to stop. The same boy now a young man leaving the south and moving to a strange land ravaged by war, a man who would see the same horrors he ran from. Joining a warband to fight off the invaders of his new home, a man being captured and forced to confess false treachery, a man who lost his arm in battle for his new home, the lord of his new home threatening to kill the man for teaching a young boy about his homeland. Flashes of his memory seem to go faster and as he hit a wall he would fall down a second set of stairs. Now the man can be seen going through a tunnel fighting anvil cultists. The man arrives from the depths onto an island, building a wooden camp with his people, starting a successful business after leaving said island, getting kicked out of his new home, moving further north, meeting a woman and getting married. He would have children of his own before that same wife would perish. Regretful, and then moving past it, building something new. Marcus would utter a yell of pain as he hit the third wall, his blood all over the stairs as he kept on falling, the memory started to slow down once more and he finally landed onto the ground. Marcus tries to sit up but finds that he can’t; he starts to cough up blood. He goes to blink his eyes as blood comes from a large gash on his forehead and enters his eyes. Slowly he would let out one final breath of air and close his eyes. He would hear a shout from the distance but would no longer care who it belonged to for now he finally got to see his beloved once more. SOMNVM QVIETE SCIPIO VIR

" Through the dark tall trees of Norland sits the city of Vjardengrad, where a mother and her family lives peacefully... " --== Looking for someone to play Jamison C. Anarórë ==-- -- Son of Estel Foxtrot-Anarórë -- ┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓ ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ In Character Information: Jamison Anarórë A.K.A Jamie, Jam-Jam Human, Age 5 Male (gender may be changed according to your preferences) Absolute blank slate - you're free to write up a personality for him! Located in Vjardengrad, Norland, in the Anarórë home. Living Relatives: - Estel Foxtrot-Anarórë (mother) - Artemis Anarórë (older brother) (Full family tree, including list of deceased relatives, can be given upon request at any time.) Adopted child (with Estel and Artemis being elven, and Jamieson human) Out of Character Information: I only ask for two qualities! 1. You are a chill person, and have had no previous issues with Anarórë as a clan. 2. I'm looking for someone who plans to play Jamison long-term, and who wants to turn him into their own (preferably main) character, instead of someone who would only play him when family is online. A picture of the skin can be seen above, however, you are completely alright if you want to change the outfit, or even make your own skin!! I have a base skin for Jamison that you may use for any outfit changes. Need more info, want to know more, or want to play Jamison? Message me on Discord!: Lunan_EXE (display name; mrow) OR, message me in-game!: VaporwaveParrot Note: I am not actively on the forums, please do not contact me on here. Try Discord or in-game.

Princess Verónica Weiss Circa 147 S.A. Verónica had been within the courtyard of the Valdev palace before they had gone to meet with their allies on the battlefield. She kept to herself on the side, a knot in her gut. She watched as everyone was chummy with each other. She didn’t offer much in terms of conversation with anyone, it wasn’t that she was being offensive, it was just that those there would rather interact with others. This was her normal, and she had accepted that. Granted, earlier in the day, she spoke with Mikhail and had a rather touching conversation with him. Other than that, she wordlessly went along with everyone as they headed out. During the Battle of the Westmark, Verónica had fought along her fellow soldiers with pride, helping slay the Veletzian foes where she could, and following orders within the ranks. She had been struck by a lance on a retreat called, which had knocked the wind out of her, reducing her stamina for the rest of the fight due to her age.. Yet she pressed on. During one of the times they had fallen back into the treeline, she found herself next to Mikhail Valkonen- offering him a reassuring nod that they were going to be all right in the end. That they were going to make it out alive.. Oh how wrong she had been on her end. Within the heat of the battle, an unknown Veletzen soldier ended up setting their eyes upon Koneas Amaya. Verónica had dutifully stayed as close as she could to her queen, on the field, this allowed her to see the attack attempt. She made her way over; quickly taking action. She raised her Princessa Fatal, a blade made for her by Demitrey Denodado, the sword being her go-to weapon. Her blade parried the long sword of the Veletzen’s, having swung it to her right. The two were mostly left alone as the war waged on around them. With her no longer being a spring chicken, she was easily slain, not having the ability to back up fast enough as the enemy soldier brought their blade up and slit her throat. The red liquid sprayed out like a fountain and covered them as the enemy set out to join their allies. Verónica hit the ground with a thud, time had slowed for her as her life flashed before her eyes. She lay in a pool of crimson that started to gather around her and sink into the earth below. After the battle had been lost, both sides were able to claim their dead. A young Konrad Stafyr had found the Princess’s body first. He screamed out “NO!” in a disdained and agonized voice that carried across the gore-filled field. His cry caught the attention of the now-dead woman's niece. Rosalind Valkonen who now knelt across from Konrad as he took her helmet off, praying that it wasn’t who he thought it was.. Once his fears had been concerned. He desperately attempted to find a pulse in a panicked state. None was found.. Rosalind gingerly did her best to clean Verónica’s paled face off before they could get her out of there and returned to her family Verónica awoke within the seven skies. Her joints didn’t ache and she felt young again.. Her hair was longer than it had in years, she enjoyed her long hair and her face and body were no longer scarred. Before she knew what was really happening, she was walking through a set of pearly gates with others around her who had also fallen during the battle. She ended up stopping at the group that was there for her. To greet her in the seven skies. Finally understanding where she was. Verónica started to weep “No!” She exclaimed in what was utter defeat, crying sheer agony on the spot. Her mother, Laurelie wrapped the newly deceased in a hug “It is alright bebé” she shared in an attempt to comfort her “Ea did niet even get to say goodbye-” she whimpered back in dismay “Ea.. did niet get to say goodbye..” she repeated. Joining everyone within the seven skies should have been a happy occasion but for Veronica. In that moment, it was nothing but a feeling of sheer defeat. Princess Verónica Frisketa Isabella Maria Lucia Elisabetta Weiss died in the Battle of Westmark on the 10th of the Grand Harvest, 159 of the Second Age. Verónica leaves behind, her husband. Four children, two daughters-in-law, and ten grandchildren. Please do not meta-game these letters. Each character listed would be given an envelope that was sealed with spring green wax stamped with the Weiss lion, instead of a sun behind it, there was a lightning bolt. Audo Walter Karl Viktor Martina Mikhail Rosalind Raelle Marian Sofia Y’vette Cesar Demitrey Amaya Roui Konrad Glorier Nova Amethyst

[Disclaimer: This is a personal post detailing my character's mindset following an event and thus is not public information.] Cowardice. Weakness. Failure. The words rang through Albéric’s ears. Yet, he possessed little awareness of his surroundings. Before, he stood upon the weathered defences of a shamanist temple, but the storm that previously battered him had subsided. The cold rain and sea spray had been replaced by an intense heat that radiated anger, shame and disgrace. “I know this place,” he managed to utter through parched lips, hands purchasing a grip upon grains of sand. Years ago, the desert before him had appeared in a vision, rendered barren by the eternal watch of the sun overhead. It threatened to beat him into submission with every step, the heat scorching his calloused feet. The knight swore to walk this unforgiving path, even if the pain was too great a burden to withstand. And still, he had fallen in his stride, broken body coming to a halt in a barren wasteland. The figures in the distance, whom he sought to follow, grew further and further away, never wavering in their steps. “I-...” Barely a rasp escaped his dry mouth. He wondered, had the heat stolen his capacity to speak, or did he lack the courage to admit his folly? Perhaps it did not matter, for there was but one truth he now believed. I cannot do this. I’m little more than a disgrace. The sands rippled at the thought, threatening to swallow him whole. The knight felt himself sink, and part of him welcomed the enveloping embrace of judgment. “Now hold on there,” a pair of voices declared in unison, reaching into the sand to grasp a singular arm. Albéric wondered, who now clung to him, determined to rob a coward of his deserved fate. A woman spoke, “So easily you judge yourself. Yet, you gave me your hand when I was undeserving.” He recognised the shrill and noble tone and perceived an elegant figure, his blurred vision just about defining her face. She was a persistent individual who had suffered at the hands of betrayal and her own oppressive paranoia. Then, a man spoke. “You suffered a defeat, but there will be battles to come. Would you rob the realm of a sworn sword?” Again, he recognised the voice, touched by a tone of unmistakable pride. This figure was distorted and gravelly, like shattered limestone fragments someone sought to piece together again. He was a stubborn memory, felled in a war some considered righteous, others treacherous and immoral. “Who would judge me deserving of sympathy? What could a broken sword, who trampled his vows, possibly offer that permits his existence?” The two figures scooped Albéric across their shoulders, “You are more than your past mistakes,” again they spoke in unison. “It is cowardly to run in the face of fear, but it is worse still to bow one’s head and succumb to despair. You held on to us, now let us do the same.” They lifted him from the barren wastes and into the light. The broken knight’s feet found grip upon the dunes yet again, the figures who had hoisted him up now fading like a mirage. He looked back towards the light in the distance and the people he longed to follow getting further and further away. The digits upon his single hand clenched as he realised some strength remained, so he took another step. To make amends, first you must forgive yourself. Now walk, son. Those voices beckoned him like a divine chorus, crying out from beyond. Defeat stung, but life still clung to his body. Amidst the shattered ruins of the temple, Albéric awoke.

Of Ash and Earth – By Law, Honor and Loyalty 20th of Tobias’ Bounty, Year 105 Second Age “All forces halt! We set camp here.” The commanding voices of the coalition army leaders echoed faintly in the ears of this aging man. Frankly, he did not even want to be here. But the King ordered and by law he was obliged. By honor he maintained a stern expression and his silence. By loyalty to those he left home back home he marched. The ruins of the two castles they sieged in the preceding months still looming in the distance, dark shadows against the pale moonlight on this evening. Weary dark grey eyes, lined with wrinkles from the many decades he had to shoulder. He glanced around camp, men and women gathered around their campfires if not asleep or on night watch duty. From all walks of life, each with their own path through time and existence. A wondrous thing indeed. Strange how a man finds time to contemplate such. But given the years of time he has been granted on this world… if there is nothing better to do with it, then why not dabble in philosophy. 21st of Tobias’ Bounty, early morning A horn blares, followed by drums thrumming in the early morning. Awoken, ate some cold rations, geared up. Breathed deeply for a minute to push out the pain in the bones and limbs. The years even wear down those with the most iron constitution. Such is the fate of humans. “Assemble, assemble! The enemy is on the march!” Now in the early light of the morning everyone was the same. Drab in heavy plate armor that rubs open the skin and makes muscles sore at the end of the day. Good protection, but uncomfortable. Better safe than dead though. The column began to move. 21st of Tobias’ Bounty, midday They circled them like vultures. But vultures wait, these didn’t. Pelted with arrows and javelins, the lines marched forward. And back. And forward. Whenever the King and his men commanded. “Headless chickens.” The man murmured. His heart was pumping. Not of joy, not of anger, not of disdain. But only because it was a physical exercise. At that age to be expected. Cursed heavy armor. “Formation about face!” the command comes. The column turned and so did he. By law, honor, and loyalty. 21st of Tobias’ Bounty, early afternoon Frantic and in disarray. The King was struck down. Alive? The remaining forces remained composed. Into a forest they went. And then back out they marched into the open fields, through a tunnel. But the vultures were always present, picked at them. Back and forth. The man eyed the men on his left and right to whom he has grown accustomed. Left one was the same. Right one… was a different face. Closed up the gap, the youngster who was there earlier was no more. Likely bled out in the forests they just left behind. “Headless chickens.” The man grumbled. “Troops, about! We march for the forest!” the command came again. By law, honor, and loyalty, he marched. 21st of Tobias’ Bounty, late afternoon The clash of metal was deafening, for the first time the vultures closed in. Mounted riders crashed down into lose formations. The trees helped and the coalition footmen were able to pick off a few, but under tremendous losses for themselves. A distant command rang to the ears of the old man, as he avoided a charging rider by ducking behind a tree. The plate clad coalition soldiers began to trudge off. Wait. There he was again. The young man who was on right in the morning. Panicked. Running away. For his life. “Headless chickens.” The old man grunted, took a breath. Pushing out the pain, pushing out the tiredness, pushing out the years. He began moving, just to see the young man being ridden down by the vultures. Though this close… not all of them are vultures. Some fight for law. Some for honor. Others for loyalty. And of course, money. Can’t blame them for that. The man moved between the trees as swiftly as he could. But by then, it was already clear that it was too late. The broken up formation, dispersed among the trees had moved on, back to the tunnel. The armor heavy. The breathing hard. “I guess it is time to go.” The man said. --- 21st of Tobias’ Bounty, Year 159 of the Second Age. Thondorus II. Stafyr, Line of Hanethor, aged 105 years, dies in the battle of the “Ashen Skies”. His body falls to Earth in the forests South-West of Brasca. He leaves behind no children. --- “I am sorry, Arthur-Konrad. That took me a while.”

The Net of Whitespire ☩ ☩ ☩ It was always a near thing, operations that required a short burst in, then a short burst out, accomplishing the objective within a brief window. Lennerd, a simple private in Blackvale’s ranks, had never undertaken such a mission before. He was not to go alone, of course, nor was he to be relied on for much. Well, just one thing… “Lennard. I hear that you are the surest catcher in all of Tiel. Stories of the time that you caught all of Miss Jette’s fruit when she dropped them during the market. I will give you the opportunity to prove that yourself. You are to be put under one of my most loyal men, Ivan of Arpa. My cousin Hendrik has summoned him and a group of orcs to partake in a covert operation. Aaun has betrayed us. Whitespire is weak. We must strike while we have the opportunity.” Lennerd was a poor boy from a small market town. His meeting with Sir Gaspard was the first and only time he had seen a man of such a stature. Proud in action, despite the state of the war. Strong in tone, despite the many cruelties that he had suffered. What awed Lennerd the most was his resolve and strength. Even in these dark days for the League, the Captain-General’s mind worked at a pace he had not seen before. The fear in Lennerd’s heart was great. His devotion to his liege was greater. And so it was that he and an orc, a giant, fat olog named Brug, waited at the base of Whitespire during a rainy, cold morning. Each held the opposite ends of a giant net. Lennerd was no small man himself, he weighed more stone than any other in Tiel, but he felt dwarfed by even the smallest orc on the march over. They were loud, boisterous, sure of themselves in a way he never was. Brug, for all the wits he lacked, could at least notice this. As they climbed to the base of the great tower, the seat of the King of Aaun, Brug hummed a merry tune. It calmed Lennerd’s nerves for what was to come. As the minutes went on, he could hardly see, much less hear, the men and orcs that had stormed the tower. The guards of the city had been unaware of their movements, nor had the general citizenry awoken yet, but still Lennard feared what would happen if even one person crossed the bridge over to the tower the whole operation would be blown. The anxiety in his heart grew and grew as each minute ticked by. Then, when it seemed like it had gone on for so long that the raid had blundered in some way, Lennerd heard the call. “LENNERD! BRUG! THE NET!” It was Ivan’s voice. The two looked up and scrambled to unfurl the net and stretch it out when they saw it: boats flying through the air, each with a parachute breaking its descent somewhat. One snapped, sending a group of men plummeting into the sea to meet their deaths from such a height. Lennerd thought he saw a bishop’s crozier go with it, though he had only heard of such things. The others kept aloft, but it seemed that they were drifting out towards the sea. “Uhhh…. Hurry!” Lennerd’s voice broke as he yelled to Brug. The olog got the message and began to wade out some into the shallow sea. Lennerd moved slower, along small rocks that he could find his footing on. He and Brug were the backup’s backup, only needed if the worst happened. Now, the worst was here. The man felt that he was going to vomit, as the fortune of this whole raid now rested on the shoulders of him and an olog who couldn’t count to three. But then, fortune broke in favor of Lennerd. The winds that had carried the fleeing boat-parachutes north ceased, and without it beneath them the boats simply drifted straight down. Right into the awaiting net. It was a brilliant catch, and Lennard and Brug could not help but cheer, for King John of Aaun and the High Pontiff were both snagged! Their flight, in both meanings, had been cut short by the movers of destiny that they claimed to have at their backs. Just as the king’s guards were about to hop out, perhaps to do battle to save the King and the Pontiff, Bo Amador and Warboss Apek, leader of the orcish contingent there, quickly scaled down Whitespire. It was as if they were climbing a rope, so fluid and peerless was their dexterity. Shocking the Aaunish soldiers into surrender, for they could see more soldiers quickly making their way down the wall after the two, no further fight needed to be had. Apek had carried chains during his descent, a show of strength as well as intelligence, for he soon had the soldiers shackled. The King of Aaun and the Pontiff were shown better treatment, and they were escorted to a small rowboat by Bo and a few of his soldiers. The return to Veletz was swift and without problem. It was as if the world had stood still for several hours. For his part, Lennerd was paid enough coin to allow him to buy a farm outside Tiel and marry his longtime village sweetheart, a cobbler’s daughter named Mariet. Brug was given a lifetime’s supply of roasted pig to eat, which he consumed in full within a month.