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  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. '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.
  4. 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!
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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
  8. 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.
  9. 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:
  10. 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.
  11. 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
  12. " 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.
  13. 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
  14. [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.
  15. 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.”
  16. 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.
  17. The Golden Gryphon Lowers its Blade Artistic Depiction of Yvian Ritter Galken, Dated; 1910 I.T. (114 S.A.) “Live by the words; 'Wer Rastet, Der Rostet', Be forever in humility by the words; 'Gott Mit Uns'” The elder looked upon the great keep as he sat down in the countryside, it's great spires pierced the heavens, its mighty walls and battlements surmounted by the banners of green and blue, the bulwark that shielded it. The man simply smiled and nodded; “I love Minitz” Thereafter seemingly collapsing unto the ground as he sprawled, his eyes affixed to the eagle that loomed overhead. It was black as ink, should it have been night it probably would be masked in the starry sky in near perfect stealth, Yvian mused. Its feathers, large and tattered, extended to a mighty span nearly that of a small messer knife, or perhaps more, as the old fool lacked the heavenly gift of flight, a simple squint of the eye and a guess was the best he could muster. The bird flew in a rather interesting pattern, as it soared in the blue, cloud barren heavens, its eye seemed to affix, something for the hunt? A predator honing in on its prey, the eagle began to spiral ever so slightly. Sitting up from his lounging, Yvian attempted to predict the where’s, who’s and what’s of the bird of prey’s hunt, using simple guesswork and though as futile or mis-used, the knowledge of what ballistics-work he knew from his times sundering Bold Blue with his comrades all those years ago. “Aha!” the gryphon-sigil-bearing man exclaimed, his eyes and rather exaggerated point, directed at the windmill. The question of what the bird was hunting for was quickly answered, a small squirrel had made a hidey-hole in one of the rather decently sized gaps in between the roof and the walls. Completely unaware as it was being silently observed by the various parties. Walls of White, Rooves of Orange, Banners of Green and Blue... Swoosh! The wind blew as the large bird snatched its prey and made its landing unto the clearing nearby, in a singular, swift motion. The poor critter stood no chance as the eagle made quick work of it, a great success for itself and its hatchlings, the bird made an abrupt motion and the critter was put out of its misery. Yvian pondered, though a completely detached event, the show of violence brought back memories of Atrus, the horrid times when the undead hounded the fair people of Balian for many a day. The speed of the hunt, the lighting reflexes of the bird and its prowl akin to unwaveringly brisk motion of a ballistae bolt. As the bird made its way to pick at the fresh carcase, his mind's thoughts raced from one moment to the next. The visceral killings done by the haunting Mori, to the brutality and cunning brought on by the Adrian, the Petran, his thoughts seemed to grow awash with the memories of blood, backstabbing and betrayal, the Roa’s, the Theonii, Heretics, Heathens and the enemies of the Inquisition, the- “Yvian! How are you? Admiring the countryside?” Yvian snapped out of whatever drivel his mind brought upon him, turning to the familiar face as they spoke. “Don’t suppose you’ve come here just to sulk, have you?” The veteran Reinmaren mused with some laughter, concluding with a small sigh, “It is a beautiful country. Let’s just hope that the Franks don’t capture it all back!” The Herrenmeister after Yvian jested, moving to his side. “I’ll start with good news. The Order of Saint Tylos is doing well, the order is once more revived!” The man rejoiced, a happy smile on his features, yet, it turned somber quite soon. “Things have changed. Ludwig, Eloisee, Saxton.. Abrielle. Their times have come and gone. Yet, there is always some light in life. Rakshasa, Roland, Barlord, they all returned! Rakshasa became blooded, his new name; Rafael. Roland formed himself a tribe and became the Warchief! And Barlord? Er, well.. He’s doing his own thing.” He’d break the somberness with a lighthearted chuckle. “Enjoying retirement, though?” The aging man offered a neutral gaze upwards at Peter, the bombardment of the various updates causing some mild confusion as he processed it. “Ja, I am, and it is good to hear that Minitz is prospering well.” Rising from the ground Yvian turned to the road, a cart in the distance making its way towards him as a smile grew on his face. As the creaking wood work grew more into view, Yvian offered a wave, then turning to his comrade. “It appears my ride has come, the final chapter in my journey…” his smile was melancholic, a sense of nostalgia about it. Opening his arms wide the man gave a brotherly embrace to his fellow man. “You have come far, I am proud of you, odd to think you used to be but one of my humble squires.” A grin flashed as he patted Peter on his shoulders and back. “You still haven’t lost your edge, Yvian.” Peter jested, “It’s been an honour serving the order under you. Your wisdom and guidance has made the man I am today, along with Robert, of course. Can’t discredit him.” He let out a brief, solemn laughter. Yvian simply nodded in response before stiffening his posture for a brief moment and offering a salute, thereafter pivoting on his heels and making his way to Lucia who was smiling gently, a soft yet firm grip upon the reins of the steeds that ferried the wagon. Peter stifled some tears as he thudded his chest to Yvian one final time; “Wer Rastet, Der Rostet. GOD be with you, Yvian.” “Wer Rastet, Der Rostet und GOTT Mit Uns, Peter” The pair waved a final goodbye as the cart suddenly jerked into motion, the wagon making its way down the road and across the bridge, more and more did the spires of Kanunsberg grow out of view, the mighty walls, the towers, eventually even the great banner of gold and scarlet victory of the Frankish wars, became but a blurry image on the horizon, Minitz, a cherished memory… Banners of Victory 'pon the setting Sun, Surmounting Mountains fading into Mist... And here ends the tale of Sir Yvian “The Gryphon” Galken Skilled Artilleryman, aiding in the ending of Bold Blue, the slayer of Undead, the Adrian, the Daft, et cetera Third Herrenmeister, Second Kastellan and of the numerous Ritter of the Order of Saint Tylos Hauptmann of the Warband of Theoderic Petty Officer of the Aaunic Royal Navy ~ Former Armourer and Weapon Smith of Minitz Most studious and ernest of Merchants Founder of the Industries of Saint Nicholas the Martyr Teacher Father Husband The Last Will and Testament of Sir Yvian “The Gryphon” Galken My family, couriers and earnest friends shall be the ones to execute my will; Those who read this, may GOTT bless you, may you never stray from his most holy light; To my comrades, friends and compatriots, Lord Robert Stroheim, Sir Peter Stroheim, Sir Brandt Barclay, Sir Leon Barclay, Siegfried Barclay, Sir Ludolf Barclay, Saxton Stroheim, Kato Oijin, Wilheim Barclay, Holly, Rohir, Gregarious Roa, Myrios, Raksasha, Safi, Barlord Bronzerock, Kristof Katzak as well as whatever other Barclays, Stroheims and other such most honoured friends I may or may not have forgotten. May GOTT bless you, may you never stray from his most holy light, may my departure hinder not your resolve. To my Apprentice and Son, Marcel Galken, I apologize for not being there much throughout your life, I fear I have failed you. You turned to those who besmirch Minitz and to that I simply pray for you not to fall to sin. Always seek great knowledge and experience and do not be hasty to meet me. To Oijin Kato and Siegfried Barclay, finish building those damn machines will you? My workshop is all yours, comrades. To Brandt Barclay, thank you, for letting me continue and end my service after the passing of your father, it was an honour. To my fellow Knights who have served me and to those who are left. I leave my utmost respect and gratitude, may your lances be forever sturdy, your crosses forever honed. Ser Adrielle, Sir Philip, Ser Garen, Sir Enrique, uphold the values of valour and chivalry in my stead and my blessings upon thee. To those who speak my name in shallow breaths with damnations and curses, may you all lick my arse, back stabbing and dishonourable Petrans, the deranged heretics of Adria and Veletzia, the rabid attention seeking Ferrymen and the cowardly snake-tongued Theonii, who cannot speak one on one, oh and lastly the weird stuck ups of Ceila’nor, licking Petran boots and kissing Adrian arses, also bowing to Darkstalkers and Spooks is weird. You may write your pissy responses, to my grave stone. To the people of Minitz, I leave my utmost respect and gratitude to all of you who are fine men and women and it is thanks to you, that I was able to find my place in this world. A few names that come to my mind… Saxton, Ludwig, Cisyn, Eloisee and many others. My possessions are hence forth given to the Barclay's of Minitz. Sir Yvian ‘The Gryphon” Galken, Hauptmann and Third Herrenmeister of Minitz 1875 I.T. - 1952 I.T. OOC
  18. PENNED BY THE LADY CHAMBERLAIN C. 1954 As our court gracefully undergoes a transformative era, the Aaunic royal court, formerly known as the Clementine Court, shall henceforth be hailed as the Paradisian Court under the orders of Queen-Consort Amelia of Middelan. In this transition, the Court extends profound gratitude to the Viscountess of Valence, Adela of High Peak, and the other ladies whose unwavering contributions graced the Clementine Court during its time. The stewardship of this refined court is entrusted to the distinguished Lady Chamberlain, Clementine Francisca of Salia. Under her governance, and with the gracious blessing of Her Majesty, the courts are poised not only to function but to flourish, and to ascend to become something great. May this proclamation resonate with the regality befitting our court, and may the Paradisian Court thrive and prosper under the illustrious reign of Queen-Consort Amelia of Middelan. Her Royal Majesty, Amelia of Middelan @bickando HEAD TO ALL COURTS The Queen-Consort of Aaun is the pillar of the Courts; all members below shall fall in line and align themselves to be above her expectations. The Queen-Consort shall hold and forever have direct authority over the structure, culture, function, and traditions of the Paradisian Court. The Queen though has constant and direct power, in case of her absence, Lady Alba shall hold this authority in her stead. - The Current Lady Alba, Adeline Johanna shall assume Head to All Courts in the Queen-Consort’s absence. @Marshi Her Excellency, Clementine of Salia @sanriu HEAD TO THE COUNCIL OF ALBA Whoever assumes the position of Lady Chamberlain shall be appointed and considered the senior most member of the Alba Council. They have bestowed the task of managing the court in the interests of the Consorts, aiding in its functioning and growth. Despite the weight of the responsibilities, this member must be competent and well versed in court etiquettes, and be able to command authority and show great leadership skills, considering they shall lead the Paradisian Court. The Council of Alba comprises women of grace, intellect, and unwavering dedication, each chosen for their outstanding capabilities and commitment to the court's wellbeing. Under the wise guidance of the Lady Chamberlain, these esteemed ladies play a pivotal role in managing the intricate tapestry of courtly affairs, ensuring a harmonious environment within the courtly precincts. Her Royal Highness, Sophia James Alstion @Kitomine Head to the Office of Household The Majordomo is a highly respected member of the court who manages the grand palace and all its affairs. They work closely with other council members to ensure the smooth functioning of the court. In addition to being the keeper of the palace keys, they supervise the servantry and welcome new courtiers and nobility into the court. The Majordomo is an expert in court etiquette and is responsible for organising courtiers on the proper decorum to observe. They are also responsible for designing and implementing court education programs. Positions within the Office of Household, The Court Chaplain [Father Frantzisko | Nescaffier] - The Chaplain, normally the Archbishop of Albarosa or the Bishop of Buron or Gelimar, will be in charge of managing all religious matters concerning the palace's courtiers. They must be certified by the church and will have a variety of responsibilities, including organising charities, baptisms, prayers, and rites of maturity. The Chaplain will also be available to provide religious advice to the court when needed, and is critical in ensuring that the court's religious needs are met and that the courtiers have a trusted figure to turn to for guidance. The Royal Confessor [Father Leofric | MCVDK] - The Royal Confessor, normally but not always the priest in charge of the Chapel of Our Lady of Paradisus, acts as the personal confessor and confidante of His and Her Majesty’s Royal Household. They give advice, both personal and religious, to the Queen, and act too as a steward of the court’s morality in the eyes of the Mother Church. Principal Secretary [Johannes von Alstreim | Vylkmir] - The Principal Secretary is the personal steward of His Majesty’s Royal Household, charged with maintaining its upkeep and appearances as well as the taking and forwarding of important letters and documents. In such a manner they also maintain a role as a chief advisor within His Majesty’s Privy Chamber. Mistress of the Robes [Parisa Monet | Sefardi] - Just as the Principal Secretary personally waits upon His Majesty, the Mistress of the Robes is the foremost handmaid of the Queen. She manages the daily schedule of Her Majesty the Queen, as well as The Keeper of the Crown Jewels [Daniel Gale | Aehmi] - The Keeper of the Crown Jewels is essential within the court, as their primary responsibility is to ensure the preservation and protection of the Royal Regalia collection. Their duties are fulfilling the documentation of the collection, as well as the pursuit of expanding it. The Keeper of the Crown Jewels plays a crucial role in upholding the integrity and historical significance of the Royal Regalia, thereby contributing to the preservation of the monarchy's cultural heritage. Governor/Governess - Court governors and governesses are responsible for caring for and educating the children of the court and the Royal Household. They are trusted with the responsibility of providing care and guidance that will shape the future of these young individuals. To fulfil this role, they must possess not only exceptional intellect but also a great deal of patience and empathy to ensure that the children under their care receive the best possible education and upbringing advisor. Ladies-in-Waiting, Grooms of the Privy & Maids of Honour - These courtiers are intricately crafted to serve as loyal and devoted companions to the members of the Royal Household to whom they are assigned. With their refined and sophisticated demeanour, they provide personal assistance and support to their assigned individuals, ensuring that their every need is met with the utmost care and attention. The Servantry - The Hand of Horen relies on the diligent work of its servantry to maintain its smooth operation. All servants must ensure that the halls of the palace are kept in impeccable condition. It is expected that both butlers and maids remain available at all times to cater to any events taking place within the Hand. They must be prepared to provide their services, as required, in a timely and efficient manner. Her Ladyship, Laruene de Lewes @annanicole__ Head to the Office of Entertainment The Grand Reveller is responsible for the upkeep and designing of the event schedule. Their duties may also include Hosting events outside the court, overseeing productions at the renowned theatre The Plane, and managing events during the Aaunic social season. The multifaceted nature of their role necessitates extensive knowledge of creative arts such as theatre, music, and dance, as these are essential components in delivering exceptional and engaging entertainment experiences. Given the importance of the Grand Reveller role, it is fundamental that they possess a deep understanding of the creative arts, this includes staying up-to-date with the latest trends and developments in theatre, music, and dance. Positions within the Office of Entertainment, The Master of the Hunt [Stefano Montelliano | Sebbysc] - The individual appointed as the Master of the Hunt holds the crucial responsibility of efficiently managing the Royal hunts and private artillery. The position demands an elite level of expertise in the art of hunting and the maintenance of the royal woods to ensure that the Royal Family can indulge in the sport whenever they desire. The Revellers - As expert event planners, revellers are responsible for meticulously orchestrating gatherings and ceremonies of diverse scales, ranging from courtly affairs to national events. The revellers' work involves a range of tasks, from conceptualising the events to coordinating with vendors and ensuring smooth execution of the event. Their work demands a unique blend of creativity, organisational skills, and attention to detail, and they take pride in delivering events that are memorable and meaningful for all stakeholders involved. Division of the Arts - In the past, the organisation was divided into three different sectors. However, it has now been restructured into a unified division that encompasses various roles. The Division comprises of skilled artists who are responsible for providing the courtiers and the royal family with personalized commissions, entertainers of the theatre and The most skilled dancers of the court,who are both responsible for performing and organizing regular productions to ensure that the plane remains vibrant and lively. Division of Entertainment - This Division is comprised of skilled musicians, minstrels, and bards who are responsible for the management of court songs and performing at events. Their expertise and dedication ensure that the court's musical performances are of the highest quality. They are available to be called upon to perform at events as required. Her Ladyship, Olenna Haverlock @MapleSunflower Head to the Office of Enlightenment The role of the High Curator within the court is one of great importance and responsibility. As the overseer of all publications and texts within the court, the High Curator plays a crucial role in preserving knowledge, literature, and academic pursuits. In addition to these duties, the High Curator is also responsible for the intellectual arts, culture, and history of the realm. The person selected for this role must possess a wealth of knowledge and expertise to ensure that the court remains at the forefront of knowledge and learning. The curator’s guidance is essential in fostering a thriving intellectual environment that encourages a passion for learning and academic pursuits. The duties of the High Curator are instrumental in creating an intellectual legacy that endures for future generations. Positions within the Office of Enlightenment, Head Librarian[Witold Jazloviecki | Rohlik] - This Courtier oversees the library of the Royal Hall of St. Godwin. They protect and mentor these books of information and upkeep such books to ensure all can inform themselves of various historical events. Whomever shall be in charge must be organized, and good in management and knowledgeable on several Historical periods. The Lady/Lord Archivist [Ser Alaric deNeurem | Paulobig] - The archivist is charged with upkeeping the more intimate ongoings of the royal household including births, special events, and changes in power. The Court Apothecary [VACANT] - This scholar shall be charged with all alchemical studies for the betterment of the nation, as well as overseeing other alchemists. Simply knowing alchemy itself is not enough, for the Master Alchemist ought to be capable of different types of the craft, considering its knowledge is so vast. They shall be tasked with providing regular studies for the court. The Court Herald [VACANT] - A retainer of the Queen not only tasked with upkeep the daily duties of the Council of Alba, but one tasked with announcing courtly initiatives, festivities, decrees, and national news to the common folk of Aaun. To meet these demands and responsibilities, the Court Herald, with the help of the Curator, shall be charged with printing a yearly newsletter detailing these very things. Division of Scholars - This division holds all philosophers and scribes of the Kingdom of Aaun. They are constantly at work, making regular or daily publications of their findings or research and etc. ADDRESSMENTS OF THE NOBILITY King - His Royal Majesty, or “Your Majesty” Queen, Queen-Consort - Her Royal Majesty, or “Your Majesty” Children of a king or queen are styled as His/Her Royal Highness, and addressed as “Your Highness” or “Prince/Princess [First Name]” Grand Prince - His Serene Highness or “Grand Prince [title or house name]” Grand Princess - Her Serene Highness or “Grand Princess [title or house name]” Children of the Grand Prince/Princess are styled as His/Her Lordship alongside any titles they hold or “Lord/Lady [First Name] Non-Royal Prince - His Highness or “Prince [title or house name]” Non-Royal Princess - Her Highness or “Princess [title or house name]” Children of a non-royal prince are styles as His Lordship/Her Ladyship alongside any titles they hold or “Lord/Lady [First name] Duke - His Grace or “Duke [title or house name]” Duchess - Her Grace or Duchess [title or house name]” Margrave - The Most Honourable, His Lordship or “Margrave [title or house name]” Margravine - The Most Honourable, Her Ladyship or “Margravine [title or house name]” Count - The Right honourable, His Lordship or “Count [title or house name]” Countess - The Right Honourable, Her Ladyship or “Countess [title or house name]” Viscount - The Right honourable, His Lordship or “Viscount [title or house name]” Viscountess - The Right Honourable, Her Ladyship or “Viscountess [title or house name]” Baron - His Lordship or “Baron [title or house name]” Baroness - Her Ladyship or “Baroness [title or house name]” Children of Dukes, Margraves, Counts, Viscounts and Barons are styled as His Lordship/Her Ladyship alongside any titles they hold or “Lord/Lady [First Name]” Beneath GOD’s Gaze, HER ROYAL MAJESTY Amelia of Middelan, Queen-Consort of Aaun, Princess of Alstion, Duchess of Corazon and Balamena, Countess of Enswerp and Whitespire HER EXCELLENCY Clementine of Salia, Baroness-Consort of Montfort, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court
  19. ADRIFT; A NEW HARBOR “If you’re going to be onboard - be onboard. If not, just sail away because you’re just a scallywag” - Captain Banjo “Django… Vydrek… Jesus… Brick… Andronikos… Leonidas… Valentin… Adzy… Lyulen… Father…” He murmured as he looked upon his depiction of the original founders of the Ferrymen in his galleon. As he sat on the helm of his newly acquired galleon (financed by his victory over the Van Aert family), a dream in his sleep - a message from Godan himself. [Chat GPT write a message from God calling Banjo to fight for Haense/God] As Banjo awoke abruptly from his slumber, he reached over to his night stand and grabbed his green bandana once more - one last final time. He made his way to the helm of his galleon, making way to the shores of Aevos. Invigorated, he put up his sails and walked to the hull of ship where the previous name of the ship read: “King Phillip’s Folly” And put an X through the name of the ship, before writing next to it: “Vyllaenen’s Blunder.” As he docked in the harbor of Haense, his oldtime ally, with his newly revised and upgraded flag, he strutted off his ship and made way to the royal palace. THE FOLLOWING TERMS HAVE BEEN AGREED UPON BY BANJO AND ALEKSANDR II: I. Captain Banjo and his yachtsmen will rally their banners to fight with the Covenant. II. Captain Banjo will be titled ‘Grand Admiral of Haense’ and given supreme authority over (naval) wartime decisions. III. Captain Banjo will be given stewardship of Breakwater Keep ruins for the rehabilitation for any Post Siege Stress Disorder (PSSD). IV. Captain Banjo will emancipate all sailors and scallywags from the influence of Van Aerts. V. The agreement between Banjo and Aleksander II will be voided at the conclusion of the war. HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Aleksandr II, by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Order of the Crow, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Slesvik, Solvesborg, and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Siegrad, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Astfield, Buck, Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, and Rytsburg, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector and Lord of the Highlanders, etcetera. Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Lord of Shipwreck Keep, Occupier of New Providence, 40 Star General, The Greater Lobster Fisherman, Premortem Saint of Epic Ballads, Grand Admiral of Haense, Emancipator of the Scallywags & Sailors, Steward of Breakwater Ruins
  20. Casa D’Roa “Nullum Magnum Opus Sine Magna Ambitione Venit” The Roa’s in Almaris The Roa’s in Minitz It is widely acknowledged that the House had its origins within the then Viscounty of Minitz, with the family's patriarch being brought to the Viscounty by the Warband of Theoderic. There, the patriarch secured a distinguished position among their ranks. During this historical era, the 'Tribe of Roa' was formally established with the gracious consent of the reigning Duke Leon. Duke Leon himself presented the tribe with a flag, and they earned the esteemed titles of 'Geehrte' and 'Speerman' within the Duchy. The Tribe of Roa’s Banner Subsequently, the city of Minitz, known as Brandthoff, was dismantled to make way for a new city capable of accommodating a larger population and providing enhanced defense. This new city was christened Neu Brandthoff. In the inaugural Court of Neu Brandthoff, the patriarch was elevated to the distinguished rank of 'Hoch-Geehrte.' He was granted a farmstead and went on to establish the 'Roa Exports Company.' Furthermore, the patriarch succeeded in securing the position of Mayor of Minitz. However, a significant turn of events occurred when a controversial agreement was reached with the Vuillers, which the citizens of Minitz regarded as an act of betrayal. This led to the House's patriarch departing from the Duchy of Minitz and finding refuge in the Viscounty of Hohengarten for a brief period. The Roa’s in Pavia After sojourning in Hohengarten, the Patriarch was bestowed a parcel of land in the illustrious Duchy of Arlestair, christened the Viscounty of Pavia. This humble settlement served not merely as a residence for the family but also as a haven for several other households. During this epoch, the family attained the zenith of its influence and prestige, marking what could be termed as its 'Golden Age.' It was at this juncture that the chivalric order known as 'The Blood Roses' was established, its name still echoing resoundingly in the memories of its members. Regrettably, this period of prosperity was ephemeral, for it was marred by the malevolent incursion of Darkspawn, inflicting grievous harm upon 'Ludwig Barclay' within the bounds of the Viscounty. As a consequence, the Patriarch found himself unjustly implicated in numerous transgressions, leading to his disrobing of titles and their subsequent bequeathment to 'Aloysia Dorothea Roa,' who happened to be the reigning Heiress of the family. The Roa’s in Helious After the events that transpired in Pavia, the Roa family was graciously extended an invitation to reside within the realms of Helious, courtesy of Jarad Munnel, the esteemed Prince of Helious. The Patriarch of the Roa family accepted this generous offer, leading to the prompt establishment of a grand manor to accommodate their needs. Through unwavering dedication and tireless effort, the Patriarch was duly honored with the distinguished title of Viscount of Atalais. The Roa’s in Aevos However, as the Mori threat intensified and posed a relentless challenge to the Crown of Amathea and Helious, the Roa family found themselves compelled to seek refuge first in the Kingdom of Balian, and later in Savoy. In a subsequent turn of events, with the unveiling of the New Continent of Aevos and the establishment of the thriving city of Helious, the Roa family made their way back to the Principality. In recognition of their enduring loyalty and contributions, they were bestowed with the esteemed title of Counts of Impera E Sera. Regrettably, the stability of this arrangement was disrupted when Jarad Munnel's health took a grave turn, afflicting him with an unknown malady. Ember Munnel was subsequently compelled to assume the role of Princess of Helious, and one of her initial actions was to release all the nobility of Helious from their oaths and titles. Introduction “Uphold honor and humbleness, be the beacon of light even in the darkest of times, be the stalwart sword that strikes down the enemy and the impenetrable shield that safeguards the innocent; that, indeed, is what it means to be a part of this esteemed family.” -The words Gregorius Roa told Aloysia Dorothea Roa A member of the Roa house must never forget their familial roots, always adhering to the modest beginnings and treating others with the same reverence that they themselves were initially bestowed. Culture and Traditions The Dance of the Moon and Sun A grandiose celebration is in order, one that spans two Saint's days and encompasses the splendid "Dance of the Sun days." The inaugural day of this festivity is marked by exuberant merriment, where all the guests engage in lively dancing, adorned in vibrant attire, and moving to the rhythms illuminated by the sun's radiant rays. The subsequent day heralds the arrival of the "Dance of the Moon," a moment of refined elegance. On this occasion, the guests don darker, more subdued hues, in harmony with the gentle light bestowed upon us by the moon. They sway gracefully beneath the moon's tender rays, savoring a tranquil dance that contrasts the exuberance of the previous day New Oak’s Birth A cherished family tradition, one that is upheld with great reverence and solemnity, involves the ceremonial planting of an Oak tree upon the birth of a new Roa within the family. It is imperative that both the parents and their offspring diligently tend to this sacred tree, for it is regarded as a profound symbol, reflective of their very souls. Upon the Roa's attainment of adulthood, a solemn ritual unfolds, wherein the hand of the Roa in question is meticulously carved into the Oak tree's bark. Within this hand's intricate carving, the initials of both the parents and the son or daughter are etched, forever binding the family's legacy to the enduring presence of the tree. Colors of the House Red: Symbolizing the cherished family values of bravery and initiative, the younger members of the household are nurtured within these principles to foster their potential for greatness in the future. Blue: Signifying the inherent elegance of the residence and the unwavering commitment of its occupants, it stands as the predominant hue within the Coat of Arms. Yellow: This color epitomizes the prestige that the family presently enjoys and the honor to which it aspires in the future On the speech of the House Physical Appearance Magic/Knowledge & Creatures Family Members Important
  21. The Murder of a mage On what seemed like a rather ordinary night, the elven woman went about her errands in the enchanting realms of Aevos. She was an esteemed guest of the Hohkmati Enclave, a formidable mage, and her fatigue was clearly evident. An air of mystery enveloped her, as if some enigmatic burden weighed on her, beyond mortal understanding. Yet, her determination remained unwavering. Physical tasks appeared to drain her, often compelling her to harness her magical prowess to ease the strain on her body. Her magical abilities granted her respite from the demanding chores. On this particular occasion, she had returned to her homeland, the lands of Haelun’or, to engage in a discussion with the new Maheral, who had taken over following the resignation of the Miravaris. However, the streets of Haelun’or remained eerily vacant, the city's white marble façade contrasting with its lack of inhabitants. The high elves were deeply immersed in their studies and work. The elven woman sought out a skilled seamstress, an old friend, to ask for a favor. She was aware of a grand jubilee hosted by the Petran Queen, Renilde I, an acquaintance she had grown quite fond of, despite being human. The seamstress crafted a magnificent gown for her — a pitch-black dress that seemed to absorb all the light around it. Golden embellishments adorned its seams, and a matching golden belt cinched her waist. The dress was modest, covering her from neck to toe, leaving no trace of exposed skin; even her hands were concealed. The time came for her journey to the Commonwealth, initially by horseback. Yet, the physical demands proved overwhelming for the mage. With humility and respect, she decided to open a portal to simplify her passage to the realm of the Petran ruler. With a snap of her fingers, a shimmering white disc formed, and she gracefully walked through it, emerging near the entrance to the jubilee. The jubilee was enjoyable, though it didn't quite meet the standards of this high elven aristocrat, who could be rather snobbish. She greeted friends, savored a slice of cake, engaged in conversations, and even treated the children at the jubilee to a magical spectacle. As all good things do, this too came to an end, prompting her to make her departure for some much-needed rest. However, her exit didn't unfold as smoothly as expected. The exit was congested, with humans loitering and blocking her way. Her polite requests for them to move were met with hostility and disdain. Determined to avoid any violence, the adept mage resorted to her magical abilities. Ethereal white mists enveloped a troublesome lady, gently guiding her aside to create a path for the elf. Yet, it took only moments for violence to erupt. A human bishop, consumed by rage and seemingly beyond reason, seized the fragile elf by the throat and began to squeeze. Witnesses were convinced that something had taken hold of the bishop, for his actions were anything but holy. The elven mage, weakened by her connection to the Void, could only stand helplessly against the overpowering human. Eventually, the bishop's strength waned, for it was not typical for the elderly to resort to murder. He released the elf, who had already lost consciousness. Petran Court physicians would then rush to the scene to transport the elf to a clinic for examination. They discovered that the bishop had caused severe damage to the elf's trachea, and emergency surgery was imperative to restore her oxygen supply. The valiant medics, ever respectful, began preparing the frail elf for surgery in an attempt to save her life. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Her eyes grew dim, pupils dilated, and her body relaxed. The mission of the bishop had tragically succeeded. However, the elfess seemed at peace, her expression serene as if she had been smiling just before her life ebbed away. Perhaps if she had not been alone, she might have survived, but none had dared to confront the bishop, a formidable figure within the Canonist church.
  22. Mi Nepos was a complicated man, he was a fighter, a drunkard, a scholar and lastly he had a heart of pure aurum. Lucius Ramneseii Brutus died way too soon and way too violently for my liking and today is the day we make a vow as a people that we will not let any more of our own die to the servants of the wealthy one. For too long we have suffered at the hands of many different groups; in the deserts of Almaris it was the numerous desert tribes and in the distant past it was the LaVassieur Forest Dwarfs. All of these foes we have beaten back; and we will beat these new ones. The Mvs Rexum will be hunted for their crimes and crucified The Caelian people must be vigilant once more for around any corner could be your enemy. Lucius was killed in his own home with no one there to hear his last words; he clearly fought bravely like a true Caelian but even the brave Lucius could not beat the mvs alone. The Caelians must work as one to fight off these great threats or we will never be as great as our ancestors. However, we can not forget our great heroes like Lucius, who shall be remembered as one of the great heroes of Caelia up there with Caelianus Ramneseius and others. Signed ~ Marcus Ramneseii Scipio
  23. 12th of The First Seed, 144 S.A. A LETTER TO THE DE VILAIN; This letter is specifically created to mimic the last letter my mother ever obtained from my grandfather, Hannes de Vilain. I hoped it would have maybe garnered some attention from the people it’s specifically written for. My name is Idaline de Vilain- more commonly known as Ida. My mother is Agnes de Vilain. My father, Atticus de Vilain. Though, to my knowledge you have never met him. If any of my family is left alive, I apologize to inform you it’s most likely my mother is dead. As she did not leave the lands of Almaris, nor did my father. The purpose of this letter is that I search for you. I have been passively searching for the last decade, but in all honesty I have been afraid. I know little of my family besides that of what mom informed me. Don’t worry- all good things. But I have been unsure if you are all the same, or if perhaps sleeping dogs would be awoken by my writing it. But- I’ve been told any gripes people may have had of the past are likely little to none, if not forgotten as a whole.. So I write now, and I reach out to any of the remaining de Vilains. I have been empty without kin. I don’t know if you all feel the same. But I suppose I will find out. If you send a letter- I reside in Whitespire and Veletz. Please know, if any of you do linger, you do not owe me a response. Idaline de Vilain, A Lost Daughter.
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