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Found 94 results

  1. Although it would be incredible; I’d just like to say now that I’m NOT expecting this to be accepted. I just had the idea not too long ago and wanted to share it. Basically a throng of lunatics led by Mr. Beautiful completely take over the city of Helena. The guards are imprisoned; criminals are set free. The gates are shut; no one comes in and no one gets out. The town will be in a state of unqualified pandemonium; everyone is on their own. Trapped in this engirdled mobocracy swayed by a psychopathic begetter who will be sitting in his chair; laughing his ass off until somebody stops him. Discord me if you’d like to hear more.
  2. ((SPOILERS ARE WONKY)) ~Pravum~ CHARACTERIZATION There are two subspecies of Pravum: the original beasts, known as the Harried, and their “perfected” successors, the Shikari. Both the Harried and Shikari were created from Descendants that have undergone an extreme alchemical transformation to their body and Soul. This augmentation grants the Pravum a slew of enhancements at the cost of the “Normality” of Descendant life. Credits: @Dymase @Cyprian1034 @NikoNiko @BoyWonderr @JaxonBlues @Archipelego @Ztrog @Temporal @AtrexPieren [Lucy-Lisett -- DeviantArt] A pair of adventurers caught wind of an abandoned town in the middle of the wilds of Atlas. Upon arriving, they were met with a thick mist throughout the surrounding forest. Once they entered the settlement, the group found the entire place in complete disrepair. Caved-in roofs, doors torn from their hinges, windows were broken, and the entire town covered in a thin layer of ivy and vines. The wind was blowing softly, adding an extra layer of discomfort to the damp and chilled air. The pair made their way down the muddied streets, their footsteps squelching loudly as the men looking for any signs of life. As they neared the outskirts of the village, one noticed an abundance of herbs in an overgrown garden in front of a small house. Deciding that it would be wise to search for anything medicinal, he strode over to the patch and surveyed the overgrowth for anything useful. The other moved cautiously into the house, with his blade drawn. “Oi! C’mere. Now,” the man in the house called out. The other man would let out a short grunt as he pushed himself to his feet. Stepping into the threshold of the abandoned cottage, the second man let out a sigh, saying, “What’s wrong?” The first man raised his arm and pointed to a darkened, far corner of the small lodge, where a skeleton lay, an arm extended towards a blood-stained book. The second man would stoop down once more, this time picking up the book as opposed to flowers. The man would flip through the pages before saying, “Seems like a sort of diary.” “Not much use for it, then. Better to leave it. Don’t want to upset his spirit, eh?” the first man responded, giving his companion a playful punch in the arm. “Right,” the second said with a short scoff. Nevertheless, he found himself placing the diary into his satchel with the plants he had picked earlier. The pair then made their way out of the lodge in search of new adventure and treasure... Origin: [!] The journal would be pawned off to a cloaked figure several days after the pair of adventurers returned to their city. ~The Transformation Elixir~ Description: Effects: Ingredients: Preparation: Mechanics: Redlines: ~Serum Ingredients~ Muscle and Bone enhancement Minor Regeneration Metabolic increase Sense enhancement (Vision, Hearing, Smell, Taste, Touch) Cardiac Enhancement Respiratory enhancement Serum Creation Brewing ~THE ALTERATION~ OOC: Please keep in mind this will be a very painful and mentally taxing procedure for the soon-to-be new Shikari. Give the patient time to roleplay out their pain. Also remember, for the performer, this isn’t an easy task either. They must be careful to keep the right order or they run the risk of killing the patient. The person creating a Shikari or Harried must have an accepted teacher application in order to do the procedure. The person being turned into a Shikari must be a preexisting character beforehand, you can’t just be brought into the world as a Shikari as they’re not born and must be created through roleplay. Preparations The Procedures Redlines ~The Harried (Event Creature)~ Appearance: Mentality: Muscle and bone Enhancement (Combat / Non-combat ability) Metabolic Increase (Combat / Non-combat ability) Sense Enhancements (Combat / Non-combat ability) Respiratory Enhancement (Combat/Non-combat ability) Major Regeneration (Combat/ Non-combat ability) Cardiac Enhancement (Combat / Non-combat ability) Mimic (Non-Combat ability) ~The Shikari (Playable CA)~ [Monolith Productions: Shadow of War] Appearance Strengths and Weaknesses PK Clause Mentality ~Abilities~ Muscle and Bone Enhancement (Combat / Non-combat ability) Metabolic Augmentation (Combat / Non-combat ability) Senses Enhancement (Combat / Non-combat ability Tracking (Non-combat ability) (EVENTS ONLY) Cardiac Enhancement (Combat / Non-combat ability) Minor Regeneration (Non-combat ability) Respiratory Enhancement (Non-combat ability) Reverie (Non-Combat Ability)
  3. Climb the rolling hills, I say. Claw at them, at the grass and soil clinging to the hard grounds, thoroughly through the howling pull of the wind. Let every fibre of your body shift it’s way up, flattening every little weed and flower blowing in the grass; see them die, with glee, because this is nature. Mother calls; and your journey comes to an end at once, but has it, really? And so you rushed down the rolling heights of nature, feeling your form push past the walls of wind, losing balance as you made your way through the little crags and creeks, and produce, and carrots, and leeks. Supper time; and yet you’re famished, you think, looking into the bowl of soup, which to the childlike imagination, could be a lake of sorts, one of fire, and fry, blowing at it to bring it to a fair and just temperature. You’ve never enjoyed sitting at dinner, although to say it was dinner was rather modest, considering Father and Brother had rarely made an appearance, what with them deciding to neigh stray away from the mundanity and boring customs and traditions of common society, and deciding that waking up before the children had awoken, and arriving hours after they’d gone to bed was a way of life. But you remain silent, nonetheless. You rush up the creaking stairway, dragging your naive hands across the age old tapestries as Mother barked at you to come back and wash the plates, but you abstain. The bedroom seemed to have lost it’s charm, ever since Brother started working with Father back in the infirmary, but you can barely remember yourself having any memories with him around either. Something seems strange... “Dinner Time,” Mother calls, but dinner already happened. What’s going on? “Dinner Time,” Mother calls, Why, though? Father returns, but it is bright out, and Brother is not with him; Mother has perished. Why has this ensued? What is the meaning of all this? But soon, none of that will matter becausee ”Haven’t I told you to take three pills, and not two on multiple occasions?” You hear a lady ask you.
  4. THE LIFE OF SER NIKOLAUS KORTREVICH “The Most Distinguished Man to Live” By: Otto Kortrevich “A bull doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of cattle like yourself, Rodrik.” -Nikolaus to Rodrik Kortrevich, 1750 EARLY LIFE CHILDHOOD Nikolaus; born as Nikolaus Halldor, son of my uncle Henrik and aunt Lilliana. From the young beginnings of his childhood, Nikolaus held a tenacious bond with his father more so than his mother. He took prominent appreciation in his father’s expertise in swordsmanship which would later pivot his life in the direction that would land himself years subsequently. Throughout his adolescence he became well-educated on the simple fundamentals of wielding a blade, footwork and drawing a bow & arrow. His enthusiasm was mutual with myself, who together spent a great deal of time with each other as both of our fathers were distinguished within the first order of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl; both of which held the rankings of Master-at-Arms. Training amongst the four of us was commonplace during our early adolescent years as we fervently continued to get better at what we enjoyed most. Several hardships were inevitable and that laid true during both mine and Nikolaus’ childhoods, the major known conflicts that occurred at the time were the ever continuous Vaeyl Wars and The Third Atlas Coalition War among the two of them the Siege of Nordengrad (c. 1690) would take the lives of both my father and uncle. An already stalwart bond between the two of us later strengthened following our fathers passings. After numerous years following the deaths of the renown, heroic warriors of Lukas and Henrik, both Nikolaus and I sought to continue our common interest in following the footsteps of our esteemed fathers. By the time we reached the ages of eighteen[Nikolaus] and twenty-one[Otto] we quickly enlisted ourselves into the Brotherhood of Saint Karl under the direct commandment of Lord Marshal Rhys var Ruthern. Within prompt fashion, we rose through the ranks as we became distinguished in the brotherhood and made our names known amongst our fellow brothers. [see ‘Rise Through The Ranks’] MARRIAGE Through years of training a part of the Brotherhood and defensively taking part in countless raids and skirmishes against the Red City of Markev, the thought of marriage never came across his mind for a foreseeable acquisition but that opinion would soon shift when he was introduced to Lotte. On his excursion to the Imperial capital of Carolustadt he and I made way to the capital in aspiration to register to vote for the Imperial Parliamentary Elections of 1703. Upon our arrival to the capital of The Empire of Man both myself and Nikolaus would later be introduced to Lotte Rosendale who was merely a medic pondering the streets at the time. Soon after the meeting amongst the three of us, I suggested taking the conversation to the nearby tavern at the forefront of the city. Quickly thereafter, Nikolaus and Lotte would soon become well-acquainted and as time progressed their bond grew ever closer which would ultimately lead them to marriage the following winter. The wedding had a good showing as it was open to the general populace of Haense, featuring the attendance of His Majesty, King Robert I and Her Majesty, Queen Elizaveta with the added guard battalion of the Brotherhood and the Knights of Bihar presiding which featured the presence of notable figures like; Ser Henrik Ludovar, Ser Varon Kovachev, Ser Dominic Grimm and Ser Bjolfr Nord. The marriage between the two was unlike any other but faced victim to turmoil as any other marriage does but nevertheless their bond remained lusty and strengthened every day as their family began to grow day by day. BEGINNINGS OF HOUSE KORTREVICH The House of Kortrevich: ( Common: Kortrevich, High Imperial: Kortrevinus ) The House Of Kortrevich was once divided between two families; the Haldors and the Blackwoods up until it was revealed the two families had common relatives. Following this revelation made by my uncle Elijah Haldor, the two families assumed the common surname- Kortrevich{Kortrevinus}. Ever since the family’s first establishment in the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, the ménage has played a significant role apart from the Royal Military where we once held a rather large host of men and women who too bore the colors of Black & Gold. Since the dawn of the famed legends of my father and my uncle our family has held rankings such as Master-At-Arms up through Kaptain until my generation of the family arrived and embarked on our own ventures and aspirations. The generation of my kin would be the very individuals who would continue to hold a large presence in the Royal military and seek to obtain knighthoods, political positions and direct oversight in the Royal government that resided in the Dual-Monarchy. It was only shortly after our family made our name widely known which would be rewarded by the titular enfeoffment of the Barony of Koravia by His Majesty, King Marius I, following our leal service to the crown and the insurmountable amount of due diligence in regards to leading the Kingdom’s army, Kingdom’s knightly system and help aid the Kingdom’s very function within the Duma halls. Our household itself has continued to praise the idealism of remaining committed to the crown and ever-fervent to serving the crown directly by any means necessary. [see ‘House Kortrevich’ post for more information] (*coming soon*) “I’m not questioning your honor nor your merit, Darius. I’m denying its existence outright.” -Nikolaus to Darius Ault, 1699 The Siege of Arberrang, 1691 RISE THROUGH THE RANKS When Nikolaus and I were of our adolescent years we looked to be enlisted soldiers in the Brotherhood of St. Karl in the likes of our fathers. It was only until Nikolaus reached eighteen years of age and I, twenty-one years of age where we would actually be recruited by the young Prince Marius and Lord Jakob Ludovar himself and bare the colors of Black & Gold. Our rise through the rankings was swift in fashion as our expertise with swords in hand outmatched those less skilled. Nikolaus took particular liking to being on the direct front-lines while on the contrary I took to rising through the ranks to become an enlisted officer and have oversight from the rear-lines. Our household during this period of time had a large presence in the standing military at the time which garnered us the respect of the already established nobility houses that have stood for generations. Nikolaus and I continued to rise through the ranks and receive promotions up through till I was granted the honor of being named Lord Marshal by His Majesty, King Robert I for eighteen years where at that point, Nikolaus sought to finally achieve knighthood and bring honor to the House once more. From the very beginning, where both Nikolaus and I were young children, our aspirations were common but despite this being the case we both chose different yet similar paths which would land ourselves years subsequently. KNIGHTHOOD Ever since Nikolaus was but a mere teenager his aspiration to become a Knight became well-known to that of his friends and family. Nikolaus, while fortunate to be born into a rather large common-born household wasn’t privileged to the natural-born right to squire and because of this he sought to prove himself by any means necessary. Varon Kovachev, the incumbent Paramount Knight at the time was one Nikolaus sought to personally prove his worth to yet, it was only until His Majesty, King Robert I himself placed a set of quests and adorous trials for Nikolaus to complete for him to then later be recognized years later by the populace of Haense as a Northern Knight of Hanseti-Ruska. WARS & BATTLES ★= Commanding role Third Atlas Coalition War: >Siege of Arberrang (1691) >Siege of Kal’Tarak (1692) Vaeyl Wars: >Battle of Last Hope ★ (1704) War of the Two Emperors: ( 1715 - 1721 ) >Battle of Upper Rodenburg ★ >Battle of Lower Rodenburg >Battle of Helena Fields >Siege of Helena ★ >Battle of the Rivers >Battle of Leuven >Second Battle of Leuven >Battle of Silversea >Battle of Koengswald Three-Month War: ( 1725 ) >Battle of Tal’Short >Second Battle of Tal’Short Lorrarinian Revolt: ( 1729 - 1730 ) >Siege of Guise ★ War of Orcish submission: ( 1731 - 1737 ) >Siege of Krugland Rubern War: ( 1740 - Present ) >Battle of Hangman’s Bridge >Battle of Reza “Never forget who you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to impair you.” -Nikolaus to Ulric Vyronov, 1716 The Siege of Helena, 1716 THE TROUBLES RODRIK’S BETRAYAL Upon the eruption of The War of the Two Emperors, our cousin Rodrik had his allegiances swayed in full support towards the Imperium Renatum as opposed to his sworn oath and once full-fledged support towards the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, the very Kingdom he himself swore to protect. Following this revelation to the populace of Haense, the once praised Knight Paramount was perceived entirely differently and was now sought to be an oath breaker and one not to be trusted in the slightest of means. Immediate backlash from the denizens of Reza was imminent towards our House as the once esteemed Knighted figure was in actuality part of our nobility household; the Kortrevich ménage. Several prominent figures who dealt with the backlash first hand were; myself, Nikolaus, Duncan, Erik and Martin but from other perspectives within the family, this sudden betrayal of Rodrik’s saw changes in the way some members of the family lived- Sarah, Lotte, Primrose, Emaline and Arabella took more heedful precaution when travelling within side the city and took notable wariness when obligated to travel outside the city to the noble landings of Ayr and Nenzing. Among the many challenges that occurred throughout Nikolaus’ long life, this among any other obstacle was one that would later pivot the outlook on the future of the family. ROYAL ORDER FOR THE APPREHENSION OF RODRIK Rodrik, the incumbent Knight Paramount of Haense at the time before his betrayal was one of if not King Marius’ closest confidantes which was known as Rodrik took attendance in many of the Aulic council meetings during his short-tenure. With this being said, when Rodrik’s allegiance swayed entirely to that of the Imperium Renatum it was imminent that our House would undergo an insurmountable amount of backlash as the once esteemed Knighted figure bared the names of turncoat and traitor by the denizens of Reza at the time. Nikolaus while recently being promoted as Knight Paramount following both Rodrik’s betrayal and the unfortunate death of Ser Dominic Grimm it was Nikolaus’ task as Rodrik’s cousin to carry out the charge demanded by His Majesty, ‘to return Rodrik back to Haense where he’ll receive the proper punishment for treason against the crown’. The order itself came from the words of King Marius and would finally be fulfilled thirty-years subsequently when the two estranged cousins’ crossed paths for a final time. [see ‘Fulfilling a Promise’ for continuation] TUTELAGE OF RODRIK’S CHILDREN Following Rodrik’s immediate dismissal of his own kin during The War of the Two Emperors, Rodrik’s own children were kept under captivity under his sole guardianship. His mind was severely clouded which serves as adequate reasoning for him not allowing his own wife, the mother of his two children the ability to cater to them and raise them amongst a loving family in Haense as opposed to the war-riddled city of Helena under the guardianship of solely Rodrik and his twin brother; Cassius. Each of our family members, especially Nikolaus made it their priority to eventually retrieve the children from captivity despite the ongoing war that scarred the Arcasian plains. It was only a matter of time that Rodrik would retort something in response to the many missives sent by Nikolaus and the family and soon enough upon one early morning two dragon knights arrived swiftly to the gates of Reza on horseback where the two Kortrevich children and one barbanov bastard could be seen being pulled by the trio of stallions. The escort was not in the slightest bit small as accompanied with the two dragon knights, an entire battalion of Red Knights and Ordermen from the Order of the Red Dragon surrounded the escort all the way from the imperial capital of Helena to ensure their safe arrival. Upon their arrival to Reza the children were quickly placed in front of the gates where a singular guard then shouted to the nearest guardsmen in Reza: “Call for Ser Nikolaus, these children are of Kortrevich blood and Ser Rodrik wishes for their utmost amount of safety. . . Ensure they are brought to the hands of Nikolaus.” [!] Attached to one of the children’s baskets would be a tattered parchment signed by his Imperial Excellency, Ser Rodrik Jozsef Kortrevich, "I, Rodrik of Kortrevich hereby give full tutelage of my children to my cousin Nikolaus of Kortrevich, current Knight Paramount of Haense - this message will arrive sooner or later, but I might already be gone, I've sailed, away from this realm, away from this war and away from the fray - I care for the safety of my children and I understand that even after what has happened you all do as-well, The deal is very simple, you may raise them, teach them your ways and treat them as yours, but if anything happens to them, or I hear that they're being treated ill and they do not feel safe with you, the Imperial Crown of the Kingdom of Cascadia shall retrieve them. In brief. allow them to explore, teach them of the perils, but more than anything - let them be free." “So many promises…they make you vow to uphold. Defend the sovereign. Obey the king. Preserve his confidence. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Safeguard the weak. Respect the Gods. Be law-abiding. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow over another.” -Nikolaus to Otto Kortrevich, 1706 Lotte Kortrevich laying on her deathbed, 1729 HEARTBREAK DEATH OF LOTTE, 1729 Among the many things that Nikolaus was met with during his life, the death of his dear wife Lotte was one that struck him like no other. Their marriage had its hardships and blessings but one thing that remained true up and till the end was their mutual love for eachother and their children they brought into the world. The eternal bond between the two was recognized by their kinsmen and the extended families abroad which ultimately made her truly one that was arduous to leap over for all who knew her closely. While the tailend of their ever-fruitful relationship did encounter sour turns they remained resilient with each other for the sake of their children, even if that meant for them to live apart from each other for years at end. Both Nikolaus and Lotte had their evident flaws that I personally can list out but despite these flaws at every corner moment they sought to deal with them and overcome the many obstacles that covered their common path. By the end of Lotte’s joyous life, she remembered nought but the few names of those closest to her; Nikolaus and Primrose which saddened her to the longest ends. I myself grew a deep sense of sadness when the day arose when Lotte, a good friend of mine, my cousin’s wife, didn't recall who I was. Despite her sickness, Lotte’s passing was peaceful where she bore no physical harm but the harm of heartbreak. Her death transcended quickly through word of mouth where the likes of many who knew her tried to comprehend the reality that was in front of them. Nikolaus most of all along with his two daughters, Primrose and Emaline were in complete disbelief but ultimately came to a common understanding of what she sacrificed and accomplished throughout her simple life. Memories would be shared but the lasting impact of Nikolaus’ only love ascended to the skies that flew above further struck him down to a pitiful sense of hopelessness as the wars still raged on and saw no end in foreseeable sight. EXECUTION OF ERIK, 1725 Following the unfortunate death of Ser Ulric Vyronov, Erik would soon be held accountable for his death and brought to trial on the felony charge of Involuntary Manslaughter. After the quick guilty verdict by the Lord Justicar; Ser Gerard Stafyr would sentence Erik to death. Just following the verdict was declared to the general public, Nikolaus made an urgent plea to Andrik to be the one to carry out the sentence as he didn’t want to witness his cousin publicly executed in front of what would’ve been a large turnout of commonborn and nobleborn alike witnessing a man pay for his crimes. Andrik would graciously agree to Nikolaus’ request and soon enough moments later Erik was carried down to the cells in the guardhouse district with the assistance of Prince Otto Sigmar and Lord Lerald Vyronov. [4] (embedded link to map) where he then faced his sentence while letting out no last words before his execution. Years subsequent to Erik’s execution, Nikolaus’ initial reaction to his cousin’s beheading was demoralizing to see witness to. While Erik and Nikolaus did not retain a close bond they too were in fact cousins connected by blood which made it truly difficult for Nikolaus to overcome what he was entrusted to do. I noticed a change in his disposition also immediately as he began to remain distant towards his kin which grabbed my attention, the families attention and eventually the King’s attention which resulted in his removal as Royal Executioner after it was made abundantly clear he was in no place to be entrusted with that responsibility. The position itself remained vacant up until Lord Karl Vyronov took seating as the Royal Executioner until he himself was killed and the position remained vacant until recently, where Ser Jonathan Frostfire now stands. KNIGHTLY RECONSTRUCTION Well before Nikolaus took seating as Paramount Knight in Haense, the knightly orders were in a state of royal disarray as they all saw no clear structure and most importantly had no real basis on how exactly a man or woman achieves knighthood. Nikolaus saw immediately the condition of the knightly structure in Haense and sought to completely rework it to an adequate working condition. His first task of business was to clearly outline how one man or woman is able to be knighted. Soon after he outlined how exactly one achieves knighthood he made it well aware to King Andrik that he had avid interest in establishing a new Knightly Order within Haense that acted as a separate entity from the Marian Retinue which would take precedence as the primary Knightly Order in Haense as opposed to before having just the King’s royal guard in function. Nikolaus worked with many people to accomplish his aspirations. Among the lengthy list includes; King Robert I, King Marius II, King Andrew III, King Andrew IV, the grand knights of the deplorable Ser Darius Ault, the vile Ser Uthred Gromach and finally the righteous Ser Dominic Grimm. The many changes Nikolaus would make to the knightly structure in Haense would influence the other human nations and directly influence the construction of new ones under Nikolaus’ personal advice. [see. The Order of the Crow for more information] “THE ORDER OF THE CROW” KNIGHTLY OBLIGATIONS EDICT BOOK OF THE MARIAN RETINUE REAFFIRMATION OF OATHS "You think my life is such a valuable thing to me, that I would trade my merit for a few more years... of what exactly?" -Nikolaus to Rodrik Kortrevich, 1750 The Kortrevichbowl, 1750 FULFILLING A PROMISE Thirty years had passed since the conclusion of the War of the Two Emperors but no remorse was shown by our cousins, Rodrik and Cassius following their betrayal that would lead to the demise of hundreds. Out of all of us who sought to seek revenge for the treacherous actions Rodrik inflicted on the family and the greater Kingdom, it was Nikolaus who was tasked to apprehend the traitor and bring him either dead or alive to the Royal City of Reza on King Marius’ due directive. Decades would pass and the promise taken in my Nikolaus would be forsaken as the war neared its end where Rodrik eventually embarked away from the fray, and away from the likes of his kin. As the coward he was this was a given but nevertheless Nikolaus never sought to forsake his vow he took oh so many years ago. Many missives sent by myself, Duncan, Erik, Martin, Alexander, Sarah and even the likes of my nieces; Primrose and Emaline sent missives to Rodrik where we all plead and demanded he return to his homeland and face the countless punishments for his crimes so our family could finally seek closure. It was only till one day where Rodrik obtained a missive by Nikolaus himself which would finally lead the old-Imperial Knight to beckon his armor once more and ride north to his homeland. [see ‘Summoning a Sojourner’ for continuation] SUMMONING A SOJOURNER A handful of years had passed since the final missive was sent but eventually the arrival of Rodrik would soon stand outside the towering walls of Fort Korstadt. The host of men on either side of the wall stood still as the two estranged cousins shared few words before they would eventually sheath blades of their own and deal out justice for a final time. A period of time later would pass where the two bodies of Rodrik and Nikolaus laid; soon after the fight the garrisoned host of Brotherhood foot soldiers sallied out to motion for Rodrik’s once closest compatriots to disperse. Out of everything that I’ve experienced throughout my long life, to witness my two cousins bring each other to their pitiful end is among the many experiences I will naught forget. Nikolaus lived a fair life, one that retains more accomplishments than many well-renown field-commanders of the past. His legacy will forever live on and be remembered forevermore by the likes of our kin and our nation. Nikolaus and I shared our bountiful amounts of arguments but never did we leave a conversation without a smile on either of our faces. May Nikolaus be remembered as one of the most illustrious men to ever live. May Nikolaus be remembered for his many achievements. May Nikolaus be remembered for every vow he never forsook. My cousin, may he be remembered for the love he shared with his dear wife, Lotte and the family he raised despite his prolonged duties as the Paramount Knight for over thirty-years. My cousin, may he be remembered as one of the most honorable knights in Haense to ever bare the colors of Black and Gold. . Ave Nikolaus, Ave Haense. [see ‘Kortrevichbowl’ for more information] KORTREVICHBOWL “It's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on. Not your honor, not your personal glory, family.” -Nikolaus to Primrose & Emaline Kortrevich, 1748 Ser Nikolaus Kortrevich “The Strong” (1680 - 1750) Knight Paramount of Haense (1716 - 1750) FULL TITLE The titles of Ser Nikolaus Kortrevich were; The Right Honorable, Ser Nikolaus Kortrevich, Knight Paramount of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, Commandant Knight of the Marian Retinue, Meyster Knight of the Order of the Crow, Royal Champion of King Andrew III. Published by the House of Kortrevich Written by Otto Kortrevich
  5. One brisk day in the Princedom of Fenn, a female Mali’fenn would be quickly gathering supplies for a journey. As she scrambled about in her bigger than average room in Drakon Manor, she would quietly mumble to herself about various items; “Okay I have my satchel, but wheres my- oh theres my crossbow, now if only I could find that Trident..” After some further searching the Mali would open a chest to reveal the coveted item she was searching for, a Black Ferrum Trident with a shaft made of Fennic Ash. After smiling in relief that she found the prized symbol of her families heritage, in one quick motion she would place the Drakonic Trident on her back as well as secure it for easy access for when she next needed it. Some minutes would pass before the Mali would take one last look at her room she had lived in the past few decades, before walking over to her desk to have a seat on the stool that was there. After sitting, she would then reach for a quill, and begin to write the following message: Akkar, I am writing to you to inform you of my absence in the years to come. As you may or may not know, descendants of various races and cultures will be leaving Arcas, to explore the ruins of a previous land known as Athera. If there was ever a single defining trait about myself it was that I always would find myself venturing beyond the borders of Fenn by expanding my awareness of both Atlas and Arcas. When I heard of the ships leaving for Athera, I knew that I could not pass off this opportunity to see a past land where our ancestors once walked. It pains me to think that I may not return to you or Aelthos, but in the event that I meet my end in this ancient place I wish to share with you some advice. Throughout my life I have seen many forms of leaders rise and fall. As for you, I know you will be a strong leader like your father and his fathers before him. If there is one thing I warn you of its that in times of uncertainty, do not push others away, embrace them. Compassion is not a weakness but a strength. There was a time when I followed every order given to me, and when I finished them I was not filled with pride, but with guilt of depriving a daughter of her fathers embrace as well as disgrace for stripping him of his past accomplishments. The longer I write, the more my window to travel to Athera closes. As some final words remember to be strong, but not rude; be kind, but not weak; be thoughtful, but not lazy; be humble, but not timid; be proud, but not arrogant. Centuries of success and failure take root in you, learn and remember the past and use it to better both yourself and the Princedom. Your Mother, Aroiia Elena Drakon-Tundrak Warden of the Ivae’fenn Princess of The Princedom of Fenn Upon finishing, the Mali would then carefully close the letter roll it into a scroll and lastly, seal the letter with the Drakonic Family Crest. As Aroiia would stand from the desk she could feel the familiar weight of her trident as if it were reminding her of its presence on her back. She would then pick up the letter and whistle for her bird to come to her at once. Upon hearing the whistle, a Raven would fly through the opening on the balcony of Aroiia’s room and with Aroiias arm stretched to the side, the black of night colored avian would perch itself on her arm. Aroiia would smile at the sight of the bird and would offer him the scroll, before watching the bird fly off. When the bird had flew out of sight, Aroiia would then go to her bed where her shield had been resting and picked it up, before heading on her way to board a vessel into the unknown.
  6. ”Study the sword to study the mind, you fool...an evil mind makes an evil sword.” They came in the heat of the day. There, in the center of the square, in the tiny hamlet of Millstone, I, along with a congregation of a handful of citizens, met to raise morale. To my left, as I stood on the pedestal, my daimyo stood. Evindal, the snow elf, who had recently suffered at the hands of the Sons of Malin, had written a speech for me to announce. I spoke with dignity, ushering in an air of confidence and inspiration to the people. Words that I did not realize would be needed in the hours to come. After I had finished, the group of citizens moved into the tavern, to consume food and drink. Evindal, seeming to be grim, did not stay long, and decided to wander the premises of his small estate. I would follow, along with another citizen. A sense of doom seemed to follow my daimyo wherever he went, and soon, he came to find himself sitting upon a bench, clutching his staff tightly, worry being evident on his features. “FIRE!” Shouted a guttural voice, which ushered in a volley of arrows to hit multiple buildings, and the tree in the center of town. Evindal rose to his feet, and drew his Aurrum blade, and I did the same with my katana. As I did, I felt the warmth leave my hands, and a chill set in. This must have been what was bothering him. From the tavern, a group of citizens exited, with weapons drawn. Among them, a Sage of Asimu’lei, and a good friend, Tantalus, as well as the Orenian fugitive, Kalius Denovan. Both were adorned in their respective armor, and ready to fight if need be. But it would be too late. The opponents, who we found out to be Cheloveks, seemed to pop from the woodwork, and encircle us. Bowmen and swordmasters, with weapons primed to kill. We were completely surrounded. Their leader stepped forth, and accused my leader of trying to enslave his own people. How ridiculous! I mused to myself. But what if they held some truth to them…? But then the situation grew even more dire. An arrow was loosed upon the defensive position we took, and Evindal was struck! His arm was hit by a loosed arrow, and the invaders clarified that their intentions were nefarious. If not just for that, the leader of them, poured alcohol over himself, and lit himself on fire like some sort of ritualistic form of self harm. I knew that we would not survive a battle in the state we were in, and so collectively, it appeared that the residents of Millstone came together to one conclusion: retreat to the tavern. And so we did, and with us, we brought a female that had previously been neutral, but made her intentions known that she was indeed a Chelovek herself. My friend Tantalus remained outside, to try and quell any dastardly acts from reaching their fruition. The arguing went on for some time, while Kalius tended to Evindal’s wounds, and a few other men from Millstone would skirmish. One man succeeded in making them fight themselves, but he was dispatched after being shot in the skull by an arrow. Inside the tavern, the woman we had taken seemed to be up to something, and when Evindal returned from the cellar, with his wound freshly packed, she jumped at the chance. A kitchen knife taken from the bar would be her comfort, as she slashed at the snow elf, and cut him on his other arm. For this, she would be severely beaten, and rendered unable to stand for a time. As Tantalus’s arguments began to peter out, the Cheloveks became quite agitated. If not for Evindal’s reckless actions, I might not have been here to tell this story. Thrusting the doors open, he pushed past the armed warriors outside, and marched his way to the man standing in the center of it all, the one who set himself alight. After some tense moments, the snow elf turned back to me, and beckoned. I followed, as my loyalty to him outweighs that of my friends, though, after all that had been said, I was not so sure. I shook that thought from my mind, and hurried on, reaching the hillside. From this vantage point, I could see the enemy breaching the doorway, and cornering my friends. My heart ached to return to the fight, but in the meantime, we were both stopped by a wandering Chelovek, who’s name I could not remember. He expressed great worry, and while Evindal left me to speak with him alone, he confided that he felt the Cheloveks were the evildoers, not the innocent men and women of the hamlet. I urged the man to return to battle with me, but he abstained, and wandered off into the wilderness, leaving behind the coming battle. I quickly made my way back to the village, and took up a spot on the roof of the building that faced the tavern. From here, I could witness Evindal taking a few Cheloveks in combat, as well as three entering the tavern to fight Tantalus and Kalius. I quickly called for my messenger falcon, and wrote a message in the meantime, explaining the situation clearly, and where we could be found. I then sent my bird of prey into the sky, to hopefully bring some aid. I used interconnecting wires and cloth to sneak my way to another rooftop, and hide out while I deliberated my next move. While I did so, a fire was started in the bushes outside the tavern, and the smoke began to fill the area. I could hear the sound of battle, and the crashing of some wood, and peaked over the roof to catch a glimpse of the Chelovek woman sneaking out from the building. She exchanged words with the enemy, and ran to the outskirts. It became apparent later that she would be changing into armor, and she strode back into town dressed to kill. In the interim of my time remaining on the rooftops, it became apparent that the tide of battle changed inside the tavern. The Chelovek leader overestimated his fireproof armor, and burnt himself to nothing but ash! The other man with him would be stabbed in the back, and shot with a crossbow by Kalius and Tantalus, and he would soon die after. The third man ran out of the tavern, out of fear or some tactical advantage. This would be when the tide of the day changed entirely. Two Chelovek agents split off from the main force, leaving three to deal with three. It appeared that a man who mostly travelled unarmed, would be the center of an assault. Janus Seadane did battle with the agents, who apparently were leading a pregnant woman they had captured out of the city. This was my opportunity. I jumped from the building, and ran around the outskirts of town. To my surprise, the pregnant woman, who I would come to know as Faye Payne, and Janus were fighting two on two. I added a third to the fight, and as soon as the first Chelovek agent saw me, he dropped his weapon out of fear for his life. Pleading with me, I would not hear his cries, and I beheaded him cleanly, while the other man would be overwhelmed behind me, his skull stomped in and his neck massacred by Sarah Payne’s axe. From the courtyard, I heard the calls for retreat from the Cheloveks, but I would not let this go lightly. I rushed down the alleyway, and looped around the big tree. I planted myself firm, as the foes would attempt to leave. I would not let them. “You’re going to take on all three of us?” They questioned. “No.” I responded. “We are.” And from the alleyways came Faye Payne and Janus Seadane, and from the outskirts of the town came our aid: The Al-Faiz, the charge being led by Ameen Al-Nabeel, on horseback. What happened next would be considered nothing short of a bloodbath. One of the other Chelovek females was gutted by Evindal, who then went on to assault the last remaining Chelovek male. That man would be butchered by three people that day. The Chelovek Female who we had taken into the tavern had surrendered herself to me. By instruction, I was told to execute her, and I did as I was told, though something about it felt wrong in my heart. I tried to make her death as quick and clean as possible. It was only then, that the small congregation of Millstone would know peace, after all the Cheloveks were dispatched and dealt with. We collected their heads, and put them into a bag, in order for Kalius to clear his name, and put out the fire in the tavern. We were unsure of what to do after that, so much violence only caused grief, and many of us secluded ourselves in our homes, despite feeling a great swell of victory. This day will be known as the day Millstone fought for its independence, and won, only losing one man in the process. A total victory, but at what cost. [[ All credit goes to NOZGOD for hosting the event! It did not go the way we had planned, but I think the end result was more fun than we had anticipated!
  7. ((Disclaimer)): The Realm of Anthos before Thorin’s Conquest. THE CHRONICLE OF VAERHAVEN Vaerhaven’s Western Tower over Lach MacGowan– one of two entrances into Vaerhaven. Vaerhaven was a ((IG)) city located in the Vale of Azgoth. Built by migrants form Silva Insulae, under the Jarl Ferron Andvare MacGowan, Vaerhaven prospered as a continental center for culture, trade, magic, alchemy, and architecture in Anthos. The tragedy of Vaerhaven is one of intrigue and power– a warning to the wicked. THE DOMAINS OF THORIN During the reign of Paragon Thorin Grandaxe, all prospered. For it was an age of auspices, sent down by Armakak and honored by blood-offering to Dungrimm. This was the Second Grand Kingdom of Urguan, in the thick of the Age of Paragons. It was the era of Thorik, Omithiel, and Yemekarr’s First– Thorin the Conqueor– who forged an age of glories and gold. The entire realm was the Dwarves’ frontier. And the chronicle presented here before you, dear reader, is precisely that– a story from Thorin’s first Anthosian frontier. Paragon-Emperor Thorin Grandaxe, Yemekarr’s Fist. The crown jewel of the Urguanic Empire was the city of Kal’Azgoth. It was a fine city; a city of great treasures and exceptionally fine ale. Great arches, thrice-and-twice the size of the tallest poplars, held up the great vaulted roofs. Cities and fortresses lay etched deep under the main halls of Kal’Azgoth, providing the overcity with food, water, alchemy, engineering, and all manners of sophistication. Culture boomed. Trade bustled– Renatians, Malinorians, and descendants of all stripes flowed through the city in search for fortune. Indeed, the Brathmordakin were smiling, for it was the age of Dwarves. And therefrom the Obsidian Throne did Thorin Grandaxe and his Lords rule the vast territories of the Khazadmar: Kaz’Ardol of the Doomforged, etched into Strongbrow’s Way in the Valley of Azgoth; Kal’Halla, far away in the Wild Isles; the Adunians and Mages’ Guild; and the Emerald Isles– all under the Urguanic Yoke. The Obsidian Throne dictated and folk obeyed. Yemekarr’s Balance was emerging from the chaos of aeons passed. For the ruler of the world would be Thorin– Paragon of Conquest. And the most prosperous of the cities under Dwarven sovereignity was Vaerhaven– the breadbasket of Urguan. VAERHAVEN– FIEF OF FERRON Aye, for Vaerhaven was prosperous indeed. Larger than any overland city (save, perhaps, Renatus) Vaerhaven was mighty and powerful. The city was encircled by formidable cliffs. Both its entrances were mired by lakes. Terraced walls cascaded down into the Valley of Azgoth, isolating the city’s farms from raiders and vagabonds. Three castles stood watch over the city’s bustling expanse. And eagles flew over its high peaks. All found a home in Vaerhaven. Jarl Ferron Andvare McGowan, with Compass and Scroll. Ferron was a reknowked architect who built several cities in his lifetime, most notable Silva Insulae and Vaerhaven. He was a contemporary and reported cousin of Paragon Omithiel Strongbrow the Builder. Jarl Ferron Andvare McGowan, a seldom remembered cave dwarf of high peerage– and previous Jarl of Silva Insula– founded the city upon arriving in Anthos as a continuation of the former. The tale of Silva Insulae, the tree-covered Asulonian isle of magic, alchemy, mystery and beauty, is another story entirely. The vagabonds, pariahs, misfits, and brigands who had previously occupied the Forested Isle became the denizens of Vaerhaven. And Ferron led them well. And Ferron led them justly. And it was because of Ferron that more souls called Vaerhaven home than anywhere else in Anthos. And the city would enjoy that life for many decades. It was Ferron who constructed the entirety of Vaerhaven. It was Ferron who secured the large bounties of the earth and kept the peace. It was Ferron who fought off raiders and maintained the law of the city without resorting to oppression. For Jarl Ferron was fair, and Jarl Ferron was just, and Jarl Ferron was good. And the many criminals who lived in Vaerhaven dared not steal under him. And Grand King Thorin respected him, and did not quarrel with him, for Ferron was a seasoned general as well as an architect. Dwarves like the Lord Ferron Andvere McGowan are a breed seldom seen– for Ferron’s greed was only carried out in justice. Aye! And the people paid no taxes– only their houses did they buy with tender, which was in part paid to Ferron under rite of Armakak. Vaerhaven’s Palace, which was built on a perennially frozen waterfall ((closest image to IG build)). Ferron was a great patron of the arts, alchemies, magics, and other trades of hand and mind. Vaerhaven was exceptionally beautiful. And its early citizens of utmost culture. But all good things must spoil in their own time. And, inevitably, his generosity was like honey for flies. And all sorts of persons did congregate in and under Vaerhaven. And all sorts of evils did they bring with them. But when Ferron lived, in their boots they did tremble– for Ferron’s axe was quick when it came to the wicked. But Ferron grew old– he approached one-hundred seasons without fear. And as he grew frail, and as his bad blood did outweigh his good humor, more wicked persons travelled to the sanctuary of Vaerhaven. And among those wicked newcomers was Vallei, the Fire Witch. Vallei the Coldless, for whom winter was spring and blood but water. No man knew where Vallei came from. But the whispers of history tell her tragedy through the pages. The Fire Witch was a high elf. She had fled Haelun’or. For Vallei was once a consort to Kalenz Uradir– the Khadrin’Hor, most hated of those most hated, thrice cursed Sohaer of the High Elves. Those who saw with their eyes whisper that he had tormented her endlessly because she refused his advances. Those who heard with their ears whisper that he broke her because she challenged his leadership. The beast that arrived at Vaerhaven was but a shadow of a woman once kind and warm– beautiful on the outside, yet a monstrosity of fragmented spirit. Many evils would come at the hands of Vallei. Men and Dwarves alike would waft away in the wind at her hands. For it was known that Vallei was a beautiful woman and desired by many. And even to Ferron were there whispered tales of her beauty, and he did listen and enjoy. And as men and women alike flocked to her kindness– as her flock of followers grew– Vallei came to assume a role in the shadows. A role which, in Ferron’s old age, began to usurp that of the Jarl. This group was called the Fallen, and Vallei called herself their mother. And rarely did things seemed to happen without their approval or knowledge. The Fallen, tormenting a passing merchant. The Fallen were worse than bandits. The Fallen were worse than vagabonds. For the Fallen did not draw blood for coin. The Fallen killed to sate their own twisted desire– the desire stoked by Vallei, the Fire Witch. Vallei began slowly, winning over hearts and minds. Then, the Fire Witch enchanted her followers into proving her loyalty– she challenged the tranquility of Vaerhaven and disturbed the rule of law. For she needed to assert her power. For she needed to satisfy her wicked impulses. And here starts the tragedy of the Vaerhaven Rebellion against the Grand Kingdom of Urguan: at the behest of a witch. As Ferron breathed, the Fallen were beholden to his strict governance. Ferron’s death was a tragedy for all: he was mourned for seven stone weeks. Ferron’s appointed the title of Jarl to Kardel Irongut. His placement came at the expense of Rosso, a Counselor to Ferron and the rightful inheritor of his titles (and, reportedly, a member of the Fallen himself). As Kardel was the former Ogradhad’s Alchemist to Paragon Omithiel Strongbrown the Builder, he was connected to the Urguanic government. Vallei stirred. Ferron was intentional and crafty in his succession choice. He knew that Thorin Grandaxe was conquest-minded: he had seen Paragon Thorin make short work of the Adunians and capture the Emerald Isles with bold maneuvers. And Ferron knew that Thorin despised the Yrrok. Ferron figured that a dwarf would be better able to maintain Vaerhaven’s independence and retain some autochtony under Urguanic oppression. And Thorin was pleased with his choice, for Kardel had served him as well. Ferron trusted that Kardel would not change much and maintain the spirit of Vaerhaven. But Vaerhaven’s tranquility would not be secured for long. Fate had written otherwise. A younger Jarl Kardel Irongut– before his Alchemical accident, which bleached his skin and hair. Kardel took upon himself the name Andvare MacGowan and styled himself kin to his predecessor– a political stunt. He gave speeches and utilized rhetoric. He attempted to convert the inhabitants to the Brathmordakin. But this was to no avail. He was perceived as a foreigner, and Kardel was an alchemist and guildmaster–he had never been a statesman. He lacked the tact to see with foresight the consequences of his election, and underestimated the Fallen and several other criminal groups that called Vaerhaven home. Rather, the new Jarl was all too happy to enjoy the boons of his power under the yoke of Urguan for leasure, an ignored the rot underneath. So it was that Kardel willingly gave tributes and handed license to Thorin and the Lords. And in exchange, he was in their good favor. And Thorin demanded that troops be quartered there. So the Legion of Urguan began patrolling the city– and the Glacial Guard of Vaerhaven was subordinated as a militia. Kardel permitted this– for the dwarf’s true allegiances had always lain with Urguan, despite his long and successful career as an alchemist on Silva Insulae. And underneath the pot continued to simmer. The liberties of the citizens of Vaerhaven were gradually lost for security. And the Fallen were enraged by this newfound order. THE ANARCHY: In the unknowably vast Sewers of Vaerhaven, which linked to the Deeproads of the Dwarves, the Fallen congregated. Vallei demanded her own order. She ordered her followers to spread their blasphemy and kidnap children for recruits. Terror and disorder spread. Throughout the city, legionnaires were murdered by torchlight. Their bodies left to freeze, only to be found thawing under sunlight. Stories of black magic and extortion ran rampant. Jarl Kardel and his council were ordered to remedy this at once. The Jarl was reluctant to prosecute his own residents, for the social order in Vaerhaven was more fragile that it appeared. After all, there was no proof that the Fallen were implicated in any of these incidents. Furthermore, the Fallen were a good source of income for Vaerhaven. Jarl Kardel made a few symbolic attempts at “quelling” the Fallen. His power over Vaerhaven would suffer as a result. For Vallei had increasingly begun demanding tribute. Hauberks of Chainmail. Provisions. Armaments– enough to support an army. And Kardel supplied these happily– he had little choice, for armed Fallen had visited him many a time in his palace. And so the corruption spread deeper. And, as do all roots, this corrupt plant would bear fruit. Vallei’s legend is epitomized by one incident. For as she was walking the labyrinthine streets of the frozen city, she was recognized for a bounty by a newly quartered, and rather unlucky, cohort of Legionnaires. Evoking unholy energies from the Void, the Fire Witch cooked the soldiers in their armor. It was only after the Fire Witch turned that entire troop to ash that Kardel ventured into the sewers to meet Vallei and put a stop to her madness. The Fire Witch turning a cohort Dwarven Legionnaires to Ash with the help of her Fallen. Those who heard with their ears wrote that Kardel was seduced by the Fire Witch, and became one of her Fallen. But those who saw with their eyes confirmed a sadder tragedy for the son of Heron. Jarl Kardel Heronsson– like his father, who was corrupted before him by the temptation of the mystical arts– was enchanted by the Fire Witch’s power. He coveted it. And Vallei played her role well. Vallei offered Jarl Kardel magic in exchange for political protection. She promised him arcane powers unimaginable and bizzare. And Kardel obliged, for he was stricken by greed for knowledge. The Jarl would become a mighty sorcerer in his own time, but never as powerful as Vallei, the Fire Witch. Concurrently, Duregar Thunderfist– a rebel Irongut who was a Maer of Blackreach and the Underholds–began his rebellion from underneath Thorin’s feet. In the Aquifer of Kal’Azgoth, a band of Ironguts who detested the idea of a Mountain Dwarf on the Obsidian Throne rebelled. Among them were powerful mages, and their control of the Undercity under the capital of Kal’Azgoth gave many holds under Urguanic yoke hope for salvation. The Thunderfist Rebellion organized swiftly. And many heeded their call for uprising against Thorin Grandaxe. It was at this time that the Adunians, completely subjugated after their defeat at the hand of Thorin, swore off Urguanic hegemony. Lachlan Mor Elendil, a coward and famed mace-catcher, joined the resistance against Urguan. The Adunians were, historically, a spineless people. Nevertheless, their rebellion swelled the instability already straining Urguan. The Thunderfist Rebellion threatened to delay Thorin’s plans for continental conquest. Duregar Thunderfist– A Former Legion Commander who began the Vaerhaven Rebellion because of his refusing to kneel to a Mountain Dwarf king. Vaerhaven caught wind of the emerging rebellion. With the urging of Vallei, Kardel abandoned his fealty to Thorin and closed the gates of Vaerhaven. The Legionnaires stationed in the city were attacked and executed. Those who did not turn perished in fire. Vaerhaven and the Fallen allied with the Thunderfist clan and the Adunians. Bandits and rogues gathered in Vaerhaven and prepared to stand against the Dwarven legions. But Thorin was cautious– he waited. Vaerhaven had ample food on multiple walled terraces. The city was too well stocked. Its defenses were impregnable. But Thorin Grandaxe was too crafty. He felt by intuition that this rebellion would not last. And so he waited again. A few skirmishes ensued between the Rebel Forces and the Legion of Urguan. Each time, the Rebels were crushed decisively and with no mercy. Attacks on the city failed due to its geographic advantage. And as time passed, the sutures began to fringe on the inside. Despite the best efforts of General Dizzy Thunderfist, the only sally the Vaerhaven Rebels attempted– the Skirmish of the Great Arch– failed miserably and cost the rebels many lives. The rebellion began to unfurl as quickly as it began. The Legions of Thorin, mercilessly triumphant over the Vaerhaven rebels and tasting the first blood of their conquest. At their forefront: Commanders Olaf Ireheart and Igor Ireheart (red beards). The Fallen were the weakest link in the Rebellion, for Vallei was driving herself into increasing insanity. The Fire Witch was fond of alchemical brews and fumes, of which there were plenty in Vaerhaven, and lost control over her “children.” The Fallen began ravaging the town’s citizens on the inside. Skirmishes broke out between the Rebel militia and the vagabonds. And this weakened the Rebellion at its heart. But what truly broke the rebellion was the defection of the Adunians. THE ADUNIAN DEFECTION: Aye, for Paragon Thorin was crafty! Thorin knew his enemies all too well. Thorin Grandaxe was familiar the character of the Adunians. He had fought them before and defeated them without raising his sword. The Adunians were a spineless people, lacking courage and overly self-interested. They were famed for catching the maces of their enemies and running away in the thick of battle. Thorin did not want to risk his manpower on capturing Vaerhaven– for he had bigger plans. Instead of employing brute force, Thorin employed his strategic mind. He broke the alliance up from the inside– he needed his manpower for later, for larger realms. For the true apple of his eye lay to the north. After allowing the rebellion to continue for a few months, simultaneous with Paragon Thorin planning his Great Conquest, Urguan laid siege to the hold of the Adunians. Mangonels and Onagers rained fire and stone onto the city of the half-elves. And there were no Adunians there to defend it. And so, the Adunians quickly surrendered and left Vaerhaven. They could not bear the idea of their treasure-lined halls crumbling into the sea. Thorin’s plan had worked seamlessly. Adunia under siege by Thorin’s Legions. To pour further salt into the wound, Thorin offered pardons to any rebel dwarves who defected. Morale was low in Vaerhaven. As the Adunians comprised half of all Rebel forces– all now gone– Vaerhaven capitulated next. Jarl Kardel had secured his magic and sold out Vallei to the Dwarves. Kardel bent the knee before Thorin. Those who saw with their eyes write that Kardel kissed Thorin’s boot and took a severed hand to avoid having his beard shaved. The Thunderfists were left with no base and no manpower, and went extinct as a clan– either banished, welcomed back as Ironguts, or killed in futile battles against their kin. With trouble at home quelled, Paragon Thorin Grandaxe– the Fist of Yemekarr– would go on to achieve his legendary conquest of Anthos; Thorin is the only mortal King ever to have conquered an entire realm, and the only Paragon to hold patronage from Yemekarr. Duregar Thunderfist was banished to the depths of Blackreach for the rest of his life– allowed to visit the surface only once: his descendants would grow sick and die of diseases, forever condemned to live under the feet of Urguanic Dwarves. Kardel Irongut would found the Third (and last) Grand Kingdom of Urguan in Vailor, establish the Consulary Republic of Holm, and die a famed alchemist and sorcerer– but he would be claimed by Dungrimm dishonorably, by old age: not in battle. And Vallei, the Fire Witch, would lose her mind and her following. The Fire Witch went insane after entering a Voidal Node and being possessed by a Voidal horror. She was subsequently captured by mercenaries and held for ransom. Kalenz Uradir would pay her bounty, bring her back to Haelun’or to burn her and her remaining Fallen at the stake. Vallei burning at the Stake in Haelun’or, her followers having pursued her to the fire. And thus Vaerhaven’s glory was never again regained, and the city was buried under ice when Ondnarch returned. It was Ondnarch that would kill Paragon Thorin Grandaxe, for no mortal creature could have killed such a monumental Khazad. And still, to this day, the Rebellion of Vaerhaven remains a tale of wonder and intrigue– an epitome of the war, corruption, betrayals, and power-games which characterized the realm of Anthos and defined the mighty empires of that time. For ruinous annihilation comes quickly those doomed things which are wicked– and they end not spectacularly, but pathetically. Vaerhaven’s ruined Western Tower over Lach MacGowan after Ondnarch’s frozen scourge of the Vale of Azgoth. When the Dwarven capital moved to Kal’Ithrun, after the Battle of the Crossroads and during the Trench wars, Vaerhaven was cut off from major trade routes. Its population slowly emigrated. The Dreadknights remained until Ondnarch– the corrupted Daemon form of Wyrvun– laid claim to the city from the south as Setherien gained territory from the north. Tl;dr:
  8. A Good Night’s Rest The stone of the mountain halls of Urguan was cold, the paths leading to Ironguita lit only by the lava pools boiling in the cracks of the deep earth the dwarves call home. A dwarf would be making his way home, the end of his cane clacking against the hard stone with a resounding tap… tap… the sound echoing through the almost endless cavescape. Grandor Irongut would be leaning heavily on his cane with his right hand, holding his lower chest with his left. The dwarf would groan, his face distorting as he would speak “Wot is ‘appenin to me” Confusion would resound in his voice, the halls echoing his worry as he would continue his slow stroll home, before finally arriving at Irongut Hold. As he would make his way to his office within the library, a sound would begin to speak in the back of his head, the words of his previous assailant, the one whom had done this to him “There is power, and knowledge unlike any known” The voice would persist, being echoed by screams of moonspeach, the dwarf would drop into the chair, rubbing his temple from the endless screeching. It had been days now, the screeches would not visit often, but every time they did they would grow louder, almost more personal. There was no escape, if the dwarf slept, the creature's voice would follow. There was no place to hide, nowhere he could run to escape the monsters within his mind The dwarf would scream out in rage, tossing the papers and books that had gathered on his desk onto the ground as he would yell “Oi will nay work for ye ya sick bastard! Ye will nay take moi moind!” he would go to attempt to flip the table he had been working at, though his muscles simply could not muster the strength. He would sink back into his chair in defeat, the sound of the voices returning to the dwarf. His breathing would begin to slow as the adrenaline would fade from his veins; his eyes beginning to flutter. It had been several days now since he last slept, and he could feel his eyes closing, slowly, the sounds of the gutteral screeching almost lulling the dwarf to sleep... His eyes would close, only to open and be met with the behemoth, the voidal creatures thousand of eyes almost staring into Grandor’s soul, the dwarf could not speak, his form frozen just as it had been when he was corrupted. The behemoth was huge, towering into the darkness above it, it would be covered in eyes, its purple tendrils the size of mountains, caressing the black night. The sound of the screeches of moonspeach from what could be thousands of monstrosities sounding around him, all the dwarf could do is simply stare up to the creature, and look into its eyes. In his mind, he would hear a simple call, the monstrous moonspeach that would speak would be clear to Grandor. It would simply say: I̷̧̨̹̻̦̣̺͉̻̊̌̀̿͛́͊͆̌͆̈́͋͝ ̴̨̢̢̰̠͓̼͍̙̦͓̣̗̤͖́̍̉̎̋̐̈́̐s̸̨̭̹͔̖̭̏̈́̈͛͒̽͑͌̈́͂͌̋̐̕͠ẽ̵̜̥̼̥͙͓̺̺͊͌̅̽́͝͠ͅe̸̢̖̟͙̮͔̻̬͇̤͍̰̹͋͆̐͑̍̽͐͒̚͝͝͝ ̸̡̛̼̩̤̮͔̰̐͐̏̈́͒̀ͅy̴̛̭̹͗̾̏̃͒́̕͝͝ợ̶̧̧͕̯̱͕͐̉͒͐̊͠ͅũ̸̞̳̫̼̒ͅ The dwarfs eyes would burst open, the clock on the wall revealing to his freshly awakened mind that it had been three hours. The dwarf would silently decide he had enough sleep, going to stand, the voices seemingly ceasing for now, and make his way back to the capital city and grab a pint, muttering to himself “ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚨᛗ ᛁ ᚷᛟᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᛞᛟ” the hardly awake dwarf speaking in moonspeach without realizing, as he would slowly rise from his chair, he would close his door and make his way back through the twisting underground path, the cane slowly clacking with a tap… tap... resounding through the caves, as he would return. I got bored so i did a thing to document character growth pls no flame i luv you ❤️ Also if you metagame this i'll be the big sad So don't do that 🙂
  9. A book sits on a pedestal in the library of Aegrothond, the home of the Lorekeeper Maehr’evar. It is emblazoned with the devices of Almenor, the seven stars of the Mariner and the Crown of Malin in silver inlay. One would note upon opening the tome that most of the pages remain blank, save for the very first few- evidently this is to be a work in progress, so that one might read the entire history of Aegrothond at some far date in the future. The pages read as follows: A Chronicle of Almenor, 1753 As Recorded by Belestram Sylvaeri, Prince Emeritus A Breath of Life, and Fair Skies upon the Horizon For many years the Crown and its representatives have remained silent in our isolated citadel of Almenor, for we are not a people easily inspired to advertise our presence, nor to seek glory in word rather than deed. Amid a tumultuous world prone to bouts of ceaseless conflict, it is often preferable to recede to quietude- especially for a dwelling-place which concerns itself primarily with the preservation of the history and moral integrity of Elvenesse. But it is a foolish thing, to look behind and not ahead- for the future grows closer with each passing sunset, and the forges and shipyards of the Almenodrim are never truly quiet. They labour, the smiths and Oathblades, sailors and shipwrights, so that Aegrothond is not consigned to the ignominious pages of perished history as many, even today, believe it has been. Our future is as bright as the crimson sunrise, and the secret fire which burns at the heart of our city is not so easily extinguished. It is therefore the desire of the House of Sylvaen to initiate a chronicle of history for the Isles, so that posterity may read them and know that the hands of the Almenodrim were not idle, but rather toiled and built a greater land for their heirs. It shall honour the labourers, the knights, and the Lords who make this citadel our home, and work every day to make it a better place. Those who have kept faith with the Sea Prince and the House of Sylvaen will be honoured greatly by future generations, for they have stood beside the Realm in a dark and unsteady time. From the ember you have held close to your heart, a great inferno shall be ignited- from the sacrifices you have made, of blood and sweat, you shall reap a thousand times the reward. The forges are lit. The fires are burning. Thusly speaks the Crown. Aegrothond Prevails. The Flame of Silma is Lit The Keeper of House Silma, which stems from the great Elvish hero Siol, has taken up his duties again in full- he has caused the beacon of Silma to be lit in Aegrothond once more. The Flame of Malin, as the House terms it, is a symbolic representation of their devotion to the King of All Elvenesse; a mark that the home in which it burns is a harbour for all Elves who wish to warm themselves by its light. They have taken residence near the Oathblade barracks, and intend to transform the old building into a Hearth and home for all Silma and wandering Elves. The Elder House, which was the second such House to join the great citadel of Aegrothond, is highly regarded among the citizens of the Isles of Almenor. Despite great odds and no small amount of danger to their own wellbeing, the family and its leadership joined the fight against the Usurper King from the Atlasian island. For this reason, they are given the rank of Great House in perpetuity and honoured with the title of Lord Keeper. Citizens of Aegrothond (and indeed all Elves of any nation) are encouraged to seek out the young Haust Silma, or the elder Elros Silma, for more information about the venerable and legendary House. It is understood that this is to be the beginning of a new era in the history of their family, one which has lain dormant for some years. Old Roots Give Rise to a New Vintage A new vineyard has been established upon the western horn of the bay, behind the great statue of Eleron Stormheart, and planted with a special batch of seeds from the forests of Old Malinor. Carried and preserved through the lands by members of the House Sylvaeri, they are believed to have been acquired from the vineyards of the Telrunya Family- a famous wine indeed. The Crown and its representatives now seek a capable and practiced winemaker to take up the formidable task of growing these vines to harvest and fermenting its fruit. The seeds were planted by Feanor Kaeronin, and the ground was blessed by the famous Druid Gi’garun, otherwise known as Brother Pine. The Druid was heard to say that he looked forward to tasting even a small part of home, and the sentiment is shared even by many Elves who never saw the trees of Malinor. An Order of Elves Among Men Reports have reached Aegrothond of a group of exiles and city-elves dwelling in the Orenian Capital of Helena. While information is fairly scarce, it is understood that the group claims to have a Malinic creed which does not conflict with the Tenets of Aegrothond, but the truth of this matter remains to be seen as only two Elves of this organization have found their way to our shores. The Seed Elverhilin is known to play a part in the leadership of the Order.
  10. History of Hou-Zi on Arcas 4th of the Sun’s Smile 1751 [!] A neat scroll contained the contents of Feng Guihua’s take on the history of the Hou people, there seemed to be two versions of the book. One mostly written in a Hou dialect, whereas the other was looked through and edited with more common. The one with more common, was as follows: Chapter I: Introduction The story of the Hou-Zi civilization is one of cruel origins, and perhaps a bitter ending to a populace that is still attempting to strive even with their current conditions. To my Xiongdi, Hou title for each other, I send my deepest prayers to you. This short piece of scripture will serve as a memory, and recollection of the current events conducted by the Hou-Zi of Arcas. A remembrance of the lives lost and sacrificed to reach this very moment. I, Feng Guihua, hope that all of my fellow Xiongdi after many lunar cycles remember that our struggles and efforts were not in vain during this iteration of our civilization. Chapter II: State of Shen When the Hou-Zi first entered Arcas, some history was muddied or forgotten as the elders passed on or disappeared. We will start with the State of Shen, during 1710, which resided on the exterior of the Gongzhu tribe. Krugmar, the one place where the Rex had accepted the Hou-Zi and allowed them a small plot of land to build. There began the construction of the major Shen Temple, in respect to the deity of the Hou-Zi people, Hou-Shen. Around the same time that Guihua joined the civilization, the first peace treaty between the Hou and Kharajyr commenced. A peaceful future was clearly in sight. Lead by the chosen Huangdi Yu Zhuding, a Hei-Zhu of royal blood and chosen by Hou-Shen, the Hou-Zi people lead a prosperous life by the coasts of the Krugmar Savanna. Protected, and we fought for them no matter the cost. The current families at the time were: Yu, Liao, Hsieh, Tian, Shui, Feng, and Lang. Many Hou-Zi returned to their roots, in search of their culture and history. Yu Zhuding could be thought of as the ultimate incarnation of what is expected of a Hou-Zi, a wonderful retainer of culture and discipline. At some point, Yu Zhuding mysteriously disappeared and was replaced by Hsieh Xin. An activist for peace and respect, he was remarkably appreciated by most and some did not like his mercy towards others. However, due to the transition in leadership, it leads to a growing feud between the Gongzhu Ren and the Hou-Zi. The Rex at the time, Burbur’lur, was not fond of the demands for the respect that was in the treaty of Fur and Tusk. As time passed, tensions grew and times began to change. Chapter III: Qinghai Slaughter As the conflict grew between the Gongzhu Ren, and the Hou-Zi populace of Qinghai under the leader Hsieh Xin, there was an attempt to pass leadership onto someone who seemed rightfully chosen by Hou-Shen. Under Cao Cao and his second Shen Bu, it was thought that they would lead the citizens of the State of Shen to a prosperous and peaceful time. However, the council was misinformed, and we slowly descended to a time of panic. The Hou-Zi all equally respected Cao Cao, believing he was truly the chosen of Hou-Shen as he descended upon our people. Soon, it became clear that his actions to some were not favorable in the Hou-Zi name. With the council torn, half in favor of the previous Huangdi Cao Cao, the other disapproving of his actions. The fateful day came where a wandering Aishan, a dwarf, entered the State of Shen’s lands with the wish to sightsee. Cao Cao’s decision, was to tear apart the poor foreign visitor, making an example of him and displaying is military might. The citizens watched as Cao Cao brought back the might of the Hou-Zi from hundreds of lunar cycles ago, ready to make claim on the world. Obviously, the citizenry was full of unrest after the altercation. The Gongzhu were in favor of Cao Cao, many were at the time. However, the brutal murder of the foreigner led towards half of the Family Heads making a hasty call. Quickly, the Hou-Zi began to gather their things at the sounds of nearby war horns, it seemed they had an eavesdropper on their conversation. The Hou-Zi began to rush away, piling their things onto their boats to escape. However, Cao Cao and his brother descended upon them, only to realize they were ready to slaughter helpless civilians. The Civilians called out for peace, and to allow them passage away from the State. Cao Cao, decided to attack the civilians regardless of the negotiation. With a sword drawn, they attacked the ship. The venerable Lang Xiahou stepped forward to buy the rest time, as they all escaped through swimming or through using a nearby ship. The slaughter of civilians could be heard from the coast, as the State of Shen cheered for the deaths of the Qinghai people. The slaughter of the innocents had occurred on the very night their council disagreed with Cao Cao. The State of Shen referred to the fleeing group as ‘Yellow Turbans’ apparently due to some farming Hou’s current wear after a long day of work. Sun Wukong, joined the Military State of Shen with a drive to hunt down the rebels. The Qinghai victims referred to Cao Cao as the Tyrant for the rest of their separation. The rift between the Hou-Zi had spread rapidly. Chapter IV: Settlement of Xiongdi de Lianhe: The Jade Republic The rebel Hou-Zi of Qinghai immediately rushed to their nearby allies of Sutica and under Tul’Tsisha the Kharajyr. The treaty remained still, and the Kha offered up their home for the group until they could find shelter elsewhere. Under the statue of the Kharajyr goddess ‘Muuna’, Tul’Tsisha and Hsieh Xin shook hands to begin a new era of peace and protection between their new people. Relations seem to improve greatly between the groups until the worst had come to invade Sutica. Often, the State of Shen military would come to raid the land of Sutica in search of the rebel group. Most times, in an attempt to take prisoners of the people or other interesting times of when they would ask for the group to rejoin the State of Shen. Claiming that burning bridges will only stunt the peace between the two groups. The fear of Cao Cao grew within the current escapee group, and they have politely declined these offers. Soon, with the aid of Tian Hong and Shui Haiyang, they began to construct giant ships to take the population back to the roots of Hou. They began to sail off into the distance, in search of the jungles to claim once more for themselves, off the coasts of Queens Isle. Once they made their way to this far spot, away from almost all civilization, they began to construct their city: Xiongdi de Lianhe, and now most commonly known as the Jade Republic. The Jade Republic was a place of neutrality and peace, seemingly inviting all within its walls and any who seek shelter. At the time, they contained various groups within their walls who found the settlement to their liking. Living within the trees and building lavish homes on the ground, among their giant temple to worship Hou Shen, it was a dream come true for the once prosperous Hou-Zi. The Hou-Zi celebrated many holidays within their lands, in particular some included the Shōuhuò Yuèliàng jié, The Harvest Moon Festival. It was a worldwide celebration, gathering hundreds of civilians from all over the world seeking to attend the culture of the Hou-Zi. Then, came the Qīngmíng jié, Tomb Sweeping Day, in honor of those lost to the massacre and the bravery of Lang Xiahou. Although there were many meditations for peace, and prosperity, the day finally came when the prayers did not reach Hou-Shen. Chapter V: The Mother of the Void The ground of Arcas shook wildly, and missives were sent everywhere, posted on every single door of the realm. Beware the Mother, it spoke quaintly of an entity we did not know about. Then suddenly, large beams of darkness erupted from the underground of the Jade Temple, the Hou-Zi began to panic. Hastily, we began to pack up our things in order to escape the calamity ahead of us, though it was too late. Frighteningly, a large round beast of unknown origin grew from the ground, eating away at the temple and growing horrid tentacle growths. Grabbing at civilians and popping them into its mouth like candy, and summoning Voidal terrors unlike anyone has ever seen. Everyone on Arcas appeared to deal with the situation, though from my perspective it seemed that none cared for the Hou-Zi populace. Hastily, Hou-Zi rushed about to grab whatever citizens they could, some overwhelmed by the energy of the Mother whereas others succumbed to the tentacles to become fodder. At this moment, Hsieh Xin the Huangdi of the Jade Republic was lapped up by the Voidal Terrors and instantly killed during the fight. The Hou cried for their Huangdi and rushed into battle, many simply dying with grief due to the loss. The civilians quickly gathered, rushing out of the gates and rushing onto their separate ways. Without a leader, some Hou-Zi rushed off to Llyria in order to settle with the Chi Monk order who took refuge there. Others, rushed onwards to Irrinor the settlement of Wood Jiantou, hopefully, to seek neutral shelter in their walls. In an attempt to avoid war, many had simply gone missing or traveling. The State of Shen, sat comfortably within the Gongzhu walls, as this entire event occurred. Chapter VI: Conclusion I did not reconvene with my Hou-Zi people and stepped down from my position as Chancellor. This was the peak of Hou civilization in this era, and it truly did make an impact on the world at some point. However, this Voidal being that attacked the Hou people was a warning to us, a horrible omen for what the future will bring. The Hou-Zi will rekindle their culture, and return to their roots at some point. Xiexie, and Blessings from Hou-Shen. *This Scroll should only be in the hands of the Eternal Library or the Hou-Zi people. If the original copy is found elsewhere, please return it.* Written By: Feng Guihua, previous Chancellor of the Jade Republic Note: Feng Guihua will continue to write on Hou-Zi culture, and thank the individual who read the history of Guihua people. Unfortunate that Guihua had to flee during the final act of the Jade Republic, but still hopes that the other Xiongdi are alright. -= OOC NOTE =- I’ve always loved the Hou-Zi culture, although there’s quite a lot of dislike from the LOTC community towards them. I wanted to make sure there was some form of a literary piece left on Arcas for the Hou-Zi, so at least in the future players will have something to learn from this era. I’ll be putting all this information in a written book as well soon so the Eternal Library has a physical copy as well! Please look at the references section:
  11. Origin: The creation of this instrument follows suit, The Amber Cold of 1740 was upon the land of Arcas. Tinkering in his little cave abode, Goilard Costa Olivera the Second, alongside his manservant, created what he would call “The Accordion”. Months prior to this, Goilard had been researching and brainstorming ideas on how to make a new instrument. Being a Bard and a musician, his love for the piano heavily influenced his creation. The idea was to create a sort of portable piano, but also not making it a piano at all. When Goilard drafted up the plans on a strip of leather, he brought it to the trade master of Sutica, Mr. Uialben. Once the plans were explained, Mr. Uialben gave a gracious donation of 100 minas for the creation of this new instrument. Appearance: This portable instrument has two almost circular wooden disks being held together by what looks like the folding part of a fire bellow. Embedded in one disk is a miniature piano. On the other disk is several small buttons laid in a few rows and a hand strap. The size is around that of an orc’s skull and can fit comfortably on the lap or in the hands of a regular-sized male highlander ((It resembles more of a concertina, which still falls under the category of an accordion. Sound: The small instrument gives off a rich, reedy, and organ-like sound unlike any of its time. Its sound can envoke emotions of happiness and glee, making the player seem more charming. Purpose (OOC): I have been on LOTC for a long time now and I have never heard or seen someone with an accordion and I have not found 1 post of anyone actually inventing it. I also thought this would add more character to my Bard if he made/played a new instrument. If someone claims to have had an accordion before this post I do not discredit them, this is just an official unofficial post.
  12. ]=+ The Clan +=[ Emberhorn “How fair the mount at Hollowbold, And bright the embers’ forge of old, [...] Alas their halls the darkness swept, And there, forevermore, it slept.” -The Song of Tumunzahar The Aspects and Mannerisms += of the Emberhorns =+ The Emberhorns are fair of skin, with bright eyes the colour of emeralds which shine beneath bushy brows. Their hair is auburn, and rarely worn long enough to braid- though oft-times the older Dwarves among them will decorate their beards with braids and clasps. The Clan-members are slightly less broad and stocky than most Dwarves, but are still possessed of barrel-like torsos and powerful arms well-suited to the hardy professions. Their ears are slightly leaf-shaped- a peculiarity which some believe results from a far Elven ancestor. Mention this to a member of the Clan, however, and you may swift find yourself a few teeth lighter. While some are grim, prideful, and solemn, they are seldom evil-hearted, and cruelty does not come naturally to them except in the rarest of cases. They are possessed of a fortune to rival those of the richest clans and individuals upon the Isles, and as such the Emberhorns are somewhat more inclined to display Urguan’s Curse than others. Even still, the Clan will often be willing to help those in need, and charity is common and encouraged. There is only one line of the Clan at present, that of Hodfair, though it is believed that there may be others which have not yet returned to the Kingdom of Dwarves. Dwed of this blood bear all of the earmarks of Mountain Dwarves, but are not purely such- as stated above, it is quite likely that the Clan had an Elf in its ancestry, and even more-so that the Clan interbred extensively with Forest Dwarves. Their affinity towards their slightly leaner build and willingness to welcome their forest-dwelling kin into their clan is testament to this. They dress in tones of green, brown, and other natural colours, preferring to stay away from brighter shades and considering them needlessly garish. They often ornament themselves with gold to some degree, with many wearing engraved golden clasps and jewelry in their beards. This also translates to their armour, which is traditionally enameled green and gold like so: +=+=+=+=[=]=+=+=+=+ The Stones of += Tumun’zahar =+ Much of what is known today of the history of Clan Emberhorn finds its origins in the revered Tumun’zahar Stones, which were partially deciphered soon after the family's re-emergence in Axios. A series of seven stone-carved tablets, they appear to have been created around the year 800 by a skilled mason who used the moniker ‘the Keeper’. Of these stones, the first three detail the genesis of the Clan, and the last four various tales and stories of their exploits. Together compiled, they form the Song of Tumun’zahar, which is held in regard above all other relics of the family- though it was not always so, and a few of the stones (primarily the first few in the series) bear a great deal of wear and damage due to being at one point used as paving material. A central focus of the epic is the eponymous Citadel Tumunzahar, known also as ‘Hollowbold’ in the Common Language. Said to have been constructed some thousand years ago by Dwarves fleeing an unnamed cataclysm (possibly a dragon,) it nestled among mountain peaks and was possessed of a vast underground system of natural caverns. Precious little is known of this burg save its name and reputation for tremendous beauty, for the Stones which regard its construction are among the most damaged. To further cloud the matter, the stories that are translated have a tendency to conflict in the location, structure, and size of the settlement. This has led some to believe that the “city” is actually several cities, spread out over a long period of time, and that the Song of Tumunzahar is simply a retelling of much older stories. To quote the testament of the late Hodfair I Emberhorn, who spent many years translating the Song: “I shall tell it as it was told to me, many centuries ago, by my father- who heard it from his father, and his father from his father’s father, who had seen the glories of yore with his own eyes and beheld the founding of the great city Hollowbold, known as Tumunzahar in the Old Tongue. Carved into the side of a great and mighty mountain by myriad stonemasons, the citadel stood defiant in the face of all tribulations. By hammer, chisel, axe and shield was built upon that mount the greatest legacy of our Clan, the likes of which shall never again upon this world be seen. Such beauty there was that even the hardest of Dwarven hearts softened to see it. But ask me not to tell of it fully, for even my own father did not know its tales but for scraps and pieces which avail us naught. Perhaps it was as they say, in days of old, or perhaps not- those secrets are lost but for the earliest of the Seven Stones, and all our will must now be bent to translating them.” +=+=+=+=[=]=+=+=+=+ += The Ram =+ While we know very little of the city itself, it is told that the lone mountain of which Hollowbold was carved was surrounded by verdant highlands, upon which was found wildlife diverse and varied. Among these there lived an unusually large and abundant type of mountain-ram, exceptionally woolly and twice as dangerous as the frozen moraines upon which it survived. The rams were possessed of a pelt-wool softer than any other, well-suited for garment, rug, and all manner of weaving- but perhaps more importantly, their swift cloven hooves could traverse the treacherous alpine paths better than any Dwarven pony. Their violent disposition and resistance to any sort of domestication, therefore, presented itself as an obstacle to be overcome. A late passage in the Song of Tumunzahar tells that the dwarves of the colony attempted for many years to tame these so-called ‘Gabhar Rams’ to no avail, until the coming of a particularly lucky individual. The following excerpt from the Song details his victory over the largest animal in the herd, which led to the domestication of the species: "He leapt forth then, this tamer mad, whom in his hand a rope-length had, And with this made to gabhar bind. Lo! Ramhorn fierce, he kicked behind, for hempen bonds behooved him not, And dwed fell sprawling, temper hot. He tore his beard and cried aloud, To make return with spear he vowed. That clamour echoed through the peaks, There was a shattered, grinding shriek, And moraine swift came tumbling down. The dwed did sweat, and he did frown, And tumbled too, as not to fall, For snow, and ice, and boulders all, Came quick to bear upon his heel. He shut his eyes, his death to feel, But instead found himself aloft, As if by bough of tree. He coughed, And, baring frightened eyes, beheld, That by fair goat was he upheld. It bounded twice, s’if borne by wind, And as the falling glacier thinned, It set dwarf down upon the ground, Who reached fair up, removed its bond, And ever since, my sons, to fore, Gabhar and dwed, they fight no more." Whether it be true or fanciful, this passage records the beginning of a fruitful friendship which has lasted many generations, and in many ways defined the legacy of the Clan. The ram and its horns are often used in imagery, and the family employs them in everything from warfare, to caravans of goods, to shearing their wool for weaving. Members of the Clan who have proven themselves in war or other service to the family are said to have ‘earned their horns’, and receive the right to wear upon their helms the great spiraling antlers of the rams- a fearsome sight. Artificery, however, is not the only thing in which the rams have contributed to Clan’s culture, for they are also the inspiration of the Clan’s modern name- though it is never once mentioned outright and was never used to refer to the progenitors of the family. The passage is such, and recounts a battle against goblins late in the Song: And in that fateful charge of auld The dwedish clan, those brothers bold Dealt death unto the eldritch dark, Threw down their enemy, and hark! From that brash clamour embers flew, ‘Pon clashing horns, and bloody dew, which fell like rain upon the ground. And filled was glen with death’s grim sound. From which was gathered the name ‘Emberhorn’, and henceforth such was used to refer to the family in present times. The ram’s horns are also on the Clan’s banner, writ in gold upon a field of verdure. (to join contact D3F4LT#4284 or meet Nagorain Ekaraadorul)
  13. The Folk Romanovich “Godani jest wielk” The village of Muscovy and its Ruskan population at it’s peak -Circa 1723 ____________________________________________________________ The story of the folk Romanovich is a nomadic tale, riddled with violence. It begins with a poor Ruskan couple, Sergei and Mila. Sergei was a hardworking farmer toiling away daily in the Curonian fields whilst Mila looked after their home. Sergei fought in the Curonian levies whenever the able bodied men were called upon, there was no feeling that could match the rush he felt during the heat of battle. A love he passed onto his children. In 1697, Mila gave birth to the couple’s first children, twin boys named Dragoslav and Milos. Mila gave birth to a third son, Konstantin in 1700, and their final son, Yugio, in 1704. Sergei took Dragoslav and Milos to work in the fields as soon as they were able, trying his best to instill a strong work ethic into his boys just as his father had done him. Sharing stories of battlefield memories fondly with his boys throughout their arduous days. In 1707, the city of Avalain was raided by a roaming group of bandits. They had plagued Curonia’s countryside for many months and the local captain decided it was time to put a stop to their reaving, calling upon any willing able bodied men to assist the local guards. Sergei dropped his hoe and traded it for his axe and shield in an instant, joining the party of warriors. Sergei fought valiantly and played a crucial role in defeating and finally driving the bandits from Curonian lands, but suffered a fatal wound towards the end of the skirmish. He passed soon after arrival at the clinic in Avalain, his wounds proving to grievous. The loss rattled Mila, slowly driving her to madness. Dragoslav and his twin brother Milos did all they could at their young age to care for their younger brothers and deteriorating mother. The loss of her love Sergei proved to be too much for Mila to handle, she took her own life late one evening in the year 1714. Leaving her children to fend for themselves. The Romanovich brothers packing their few belongings, preparing to leave behind their Curonian overlords and build a legacy of their own -Circa 1714 ____________________________________________________________ Seeing no reason to continue their fruitless, limiting service to Curonia and yearning for adventure, Dragoslav and Milos decided to pack what little they had left and lead their family in search of a home they could truly make their own. The four brothers and Dragoslav’s newly wedded wife, Nina, left Avalain early in the year 1714. Their travels brought them to every corner of the lands of Arcas, picking up other Ruskan men and women living under the reign of people foreign to themselves, amassing a considerable following. After many months of wandering, carousing, and raiding the brothers finally found a spot they thought suitable. They began building as soon as they arrived on an island in a small cluster of islands near Arcas’ Southern borders, they called this cluster ‘The Ruskan Isles.’ Muscovy was founded, the year was 1715. Progress on the brothers’ village was rapid, drawing in many other Ruskan and Raev people looking to live free lives. Dragoslav had twins of his own with his wife Nina in 1716, naming them Nikoslav and Viktoryia. Young Konstantin fell in love and married a girl named Genevieve in the same year. Circumstances constantly improving for Muscovy and her people, who looked to the Romanovich brothers for leadership and guidance, idolizing the young men. Growing tired of raiding and looting the poor settlements around them, the brothers gather all their warriors and founded a company, Komanyia Muscovia, in 1717 and offered their services to the highest bidder. Signing a contract with the Marnantine emperor, Joseph, the warriors of Muscovy left behind their wives and children to enter The War of Two Emperors. Muscovian Cavalrymen leading a Marnantine charge in a skirmish against Renatian forces outside the walls of Leuven -Circa 1718 ____________________________________________________________ The brothers and their comrades forged a valiant reputation for themselves and amassed as much wealth as they could during the war, staying with the Marnantine forces until the end in 1721. Returning to their home to celebrate their successes with their friends and family. The mundane nature of daily village life soon got to the warriors of the Kompanyia, suffering from an insatiable bloodlust after experiencing the pure rush of battle. They turned to raiding as a solution to this thirst, devastating most of the settlements surrounding their own and completely wiping out a breed of elf that called themselves ‘Sun Elves’ held up in a town known as Mir’asul. The Romanovich brothers and their comrades believed themselves invincible. Late one night in 1727, Dragoslav woke to the strong stench on entrails and a thick cloud of smoke outside his home. Joining the defense of their beloved village, the Romanovich brothers and their remaining comrades finally drove the band of refugees from settlements sacked by the Muscovians back. Alas, the damage had been done. Many had died, including the Romanovich brother Konstantin, and much of their village and fields had burned. The strong and hardheaded population of Rus and Raev stayed in their village for as long as they could, but nothing was ever the same. With heavy hearts they abandoned their homes in 1739 and followed the Romanovich brothers back to the one place they knew they would be able to recover, Curonia. The Rus and Raev followers of the Romanovich feasting and celebrating their ever strengthening circumstances around a cluster of their farmsteads -Circa 1742 ____________________________________________________________ Avalain was good to the Romanovich and their followers. Their wounds healed, their spirits lifted, and many soon forged prominent names for themselves with Curonia. Dragoslav was appointed First Minister of Curonia by her majesty, Ester I Devereux, which he quickly followed with the appointment of Yugio and Sergei, Konstantin’s young and competent son, to the Cyrillian Cabinet. The brothers took ownership of the Bear Cub Pub in Avalain with their business partner, Charles, and discovered a new talent, the production of Vodka. They drank, laughed, and led in Curonia for five fruitful years, but the desire for freedom never left their hearts. Suddenly, in 1744, the Romanovich and their followers from Muscovy left Curonia to begin the search for a new home. Coming across a fertile valley placed by Godan between a forest in the East of Arcas and the Orcish Plains, they claimed the swath of land as their own and began building their lives in their new home. Rominsk is founded, the year is 1745. Rominsk amidst the vast Muscovian March -Circa 1745
  14. Catherine held tight to her sides. She rocked back and forth, eyes glued to her bare toes. Tears were starting to escape her, though they were strangely not accompanied by any sound. She was just sitting there on the wooden floor, cold, lost, face wet. That was her existence at the moment. And she didn’t think too much of it. All she could see was his face. His dark skin, his curly hair, his spectacles. His laugh echoed in her head and she shook out of fear. She could imagine his hands closing in on her; she could still feel his fingers on the back of her head, pulling her closer. That’s when the first sob escaped. This boy...this creature...Catherine couldn’t even bear saying his name. He had violated her and she felt like she was no longer in control of herself. She felt dirty. She felt like she was no longer human, but rather a rag doll. And that’s all she was to him. That boy. She was just a doll. A disposable one, at that. The shaking became more violent. Her face burned and her nails dug deep into the palms of her hands. She was now muttering to herself, trying to stabilize and ground herself from what she knew would become a moment of reliving the past if she didn’t pull herself out of the trance fast enough. Alas, unfortunately for Catherine, it was too late. Once again, she was living two months ago. They were at a pond together, sharing sweet nothings and kisses. But he had more plans in store. Oh, how Catherine had escaped her mind, how she had tried not to exist during those few seconds when he did as he pleased, but she couldn’t help but cry. The water was burning the back of her neck. She gagged. And once again, she was back to reality. The present. Her tears had dried, her shaking had ceased. She was all alone, once again. The End
  15. Elijah and His Hole Elijah was never one for war. In fact, he had a strong distaste for it. Swords and bows and battleaxes and whatnot would send him straight to the nearest compost bin. So, when he heard that there was to be a draft to fight against the enemies drawing nearer and nearer to his humble town, Elijah picked up all his belongings he could fit into a small cloth bag and marched out the door. Elijah was also not a man of directions, nor schedules and plans. For days, he wandered aimlessly, stopping occasionally to sit and eat whilst glaring at a squirrel, as if challenging it to make a slight towards him and his meal. It was when Elijah made it to a clearing that he realized he had found a new place to stay. Quiet. Empty. Peaceful from the edges of the forest to the calming riverbank. And, lucky enough for Elijah, the ground was soft enough to begin digging. So, he started. Minutes upon hours upon days, Elijah ceaselessly dug away at the ground. He had to stop often to get the sweat out of his eyes, but would then continue as if he had never taken a pause. He dug. And he dug. And he dug. On the fourth day of digging, Elijah collapsed. His fingernails were packed with mud. His clothes were completely stained beyond repair. But Elijah just laughed to himself under the stars, the low chirps and murmurs from inside the forest seemingly celebrated with him. Elijah had escaped war. And he had dug himself a new hole to call home. The end.
  16. Gavin_

    The Folk Nazarov

    The Folk Nazarov Chronicled on the 14th of The Amber Cold, 1745 _________________________________________________________________________ ‘Beneath the ground, can moy rest’ _________________________________________________________________________ The Chronicling of the Folk Nazarov begins with Filo, the firstborn son of two labourers, Karolina and Frederik, born in the year 1695. Kaidrik Nazarov, the second son, was born in the year 1726. The family lived on a petite ‘Ruskan Isle’ - The township they inhabited was so named Muscovy and it was there that they toiled. Frederik tended mostly to the construction of the township, starting towards the end of 1715, his mother tending to matters of house and of herbiage. A daughter was born to Frederik and Karolina a year later, they named her Anna. _______________________________________________________________ Karolina toiling away within the Nazarov home _______________________________________________________________ Life, for young Kaidrik, was difficult. His day-to-day consisted mainly of tiresome, manual labor, assisting his father, brother and the other Raevir men. His education consisted in the stories that his mother would tell him at night time and his wisdom came from the grumblings of old men as they toiled during the day. He learned how to fight from his brother and the other ruffians who comprised the township - his was a life of simple proportion. Just two years after the Muscovian people had adorned their thresholds, war ensued - The War of Two Emperor’s. Under the leadership and vision of Dragoslav Romanovich and his brothers, a mercenary group was assembled - The Kompanyia Muscovia - the year, 1717. Filo with little hesitation joined the group and was trained in combat. He soon found himself fighting alongside the armies of the Marnantine Emperor. It was betwixt the ranks of those men and his own, that he would perish. In their entirety, the Nazarov’s were taken by a grief so unspeakable, harboring the ferocity akin to that of a wild animal being caught in a trap - the sudden release, almost deadly. And it was that very same grief which followed the family Nazarov to Availain, alongside their people. _______________________________________________________________ Muscovian settlers mixed in with the Curonian population of Avalain, rather poorly as they are prone to drunken brawls _______________________________________________________________ This was a place of wealth and luxury, of good tidings and clean confines. Life here improved for the Nazarov’s. The widower found a new persuasion, that of tending to the needs of wealthy women. Be it preparing clothing or food, pampering or cleaning, at least she was occupied. Young Kaidrik was not spared - his youth laboriously continued. Under seemingly auspices circumstances, he found himself under the tutelage of a warrior merchant. A master of the fist once learned that compared to the sword, he was naught and so it was, through blood, sweat and tears, that this youth began to flourish, a sword at his hip and a coin purse in hand. Affluency did not follow him as he returned home in the evenings, but his horizons began to expand as each day, he became more of a man - adopting more responsibilities of both house and occupation, and with this growth, came a thirst for more. It was here, in Avalain, that Kaidrik first met love - what a devilish and tricky companion love was. He found it at the age of 16 - another Muscovian who he had not noticed as a boy in the township. Her name was Anastasia. A hard people, the Muscovian’s are. Prideful, hard working, and accustomed to woe. They weren’t the most intelligent, nor were they the most charming, but they were loyal and valued community and tradition over most. It was these exact attributes which led to their departure from Avalain, for it was one of Muscovy who must lead. _______________________________________________________________ The Ruskan and Raev peoples of Muscovy set out from Avalain to find a new home, following the lead of Dragoslav Romanovich and his brothers _______________________________________________________________ Trailing at the rear of a band of Raevir, was now a young man. He belonged to no Royal House nor had he any sense of grandeur about him. His beginnings were humble, his life simple - a labourer of meagre proportions, a jack of all trades, master of none. Yet his future awaits him. Around his arm, he cradled his love, Anastasia as they walked alongside troops of men and women, of differing shapes and ages, and they were in exodus, leaving behind in their muddy tracks, the Kingdom of Curonia, the year 1744. Over a year later, the settlers came to a halt. They had found a land which they believed they could call their own, over which they could preside, and they named it Rominsk. Between a forest and the Orcish plains lay a fertile and verdant valley, this budding idyll, its flora alluring, its fauna abundant, is where the Folk Nazarov now call home - a new dawn rising. _______________________________________________________________ At last staking claim to a swath a land, a new beginning for the Muscovians - Rominsk _______________________________________________________________ OOC: Hey folks! Looking for some family members for a new House! Father (68), Mother (64), Sister (18), Wife (19). If you’re interested, just hit me up with a DM 🙂
  17. Marc of White enters the Under-City of Ruswick, tired from the days toil, and of warring and deceit in general. So it came as some surprise to him that when he ventured around the city streets of Ruswick, that he happened upon the scene of a crime, one committed within the closely guarded walls. The house of Ryia von Savoia, also known to the council and people in the city as “Ruminating Ryia”, had been seemingly busted into. A curiosity pulled at him that beckoned him into the doorway. The lock had been busted clean off, and parts of the doorway had been splintered. Stepping through into the living quarters, Marc surveyed the scene. A painting had been slashed through, signifying that there must have been some sort of fight, and caused him to search further into the warrior’s living quarters. In his mind, he wondered who could have gotten the jump on his compatriot. She had been known to keep her head on a swivel. Eyes scan the living quarters over and over, trying to find some indication that his friend was alive, but so far, the prognosis was not good. Behind the mask, his face lie deadpan, and in his mind, he was trying to work out what might have happened. Over to the side, the bed she had kept her wolf in sat empty, and the items she had kept in her pantry had been shaken and stirred, some jars broken and cracked, further leading him to believe that there had been a struggle that had ensued while he was away. Naturally, he began to gravitate further in, noticing the bedroom, which had some blood peeking through the doorway. One hand outstretched, and pushed the door open enough so he could witness the horror that room withheld. Blood painted the walls with messy streaks, and blood tainted the white sheets that were wrapped tightly upon her mattress. Blood had pooled on the floor by her bedside, and caused his stomach to turn. So much blood. Elven or otherwise, no one could withstand losing that much blood. “Dammit, Ryia.” He cursed her, becoming angry with the situation at hand. It seemed like his world was coming to a collapse, as his friends were being hunted down and killed. More deaths to add to the tally. Over at the other side of the room, he noticed a book. Pulling himself away from the scene, he scooped it up, and opened it to the last page written in it. What he found had confounded him. It didn’t make any sense at the time. Perhaps it didn’t need to. He stuffed the book away in a small pouch on his belt, and sighed. Another friend lost to him, taken by the war that had become synonymous with the Ruswick name. But he still harbored hope that she was out there. Perhaps she wasn’t captured or worse, killed. It was a fleeting hope, but one he felt the need to look into. Taking the book with him, he exited the house and shut the door. There was work that needed to be done.
  18. 15th of the Amber Cold, 1741 Al-Faiz. In the tongue of the Qalasheen, it means ‘the Victor’. On this day it proved prophetic. In the late hours of the day, what is called in foreign lands ‘the Amber Cold’ meant little more than a mercifully cool breeze of the ocean nearby, the village of al-Faiz was looking forward to the setting of the burning Korvassan sun. But in the young, bustling village the peaceful rest of night was not to come. “Tribute! We demand tribute!” rang out the arrogant voice, its accent strange to the Qalasheen farmers and peasants. Into the main square strode the town elders, brows furrowed against the low sun, tired and curious men and women who had once been drawn towards what they thought were visitors now became quiet, and scowled at these prideful intruders in their lives. Two masked men looked on as the Qalasheen, one by one, approached to stand in every side street and doorway to gaze at them silently, curved swords gleaming in the afternoon heat. Mothers huddled their children close, leading them inside the musjid where the doors were locked - and those mothers who whispered softly to their children to stay safe and within grimly took up bow and sword, joining their husbands and brothers. There would be no tribute tonight but the blood of the infidel to Allah. Qalasheen and visitors to the town alike, Orc, Elf, man and woman, without a word prepared to defend their town. The assembled warriors, guardsmen, militia and allies alike paused, weapons drawn, as one man - late to hear of the approaching battle - stumbled out of the inn, having forgotten to put on most of his armour, looking around and loudly demanding to know where the Jihad was to be had. At that point one of the demanders of tribute threw a rock - or maybe a Qalasheen boy threw a falafeel. What can be said for sure is that at once a great cry to God range out, shattering the calm of the desert - ALLAHU AKBAR, cried the town as one, and then all hells broke loose - yelling, bloodshed, steel clashing against shield, arrows splintered against plate and sheering through maille… Backed up against the gates of their holy musjid, build to the glory of Allah, the defenders battled down the steps and repulsed the raid party again and again through the gate, falling back to let them come inside, only to be swiftly overwhelmed again. Raiders scrambled over walls, sent arrows flying through the city, but could barely set foot within without warriors ambushing them from buildings and towers. Archers dueled with raiders circling the walls, crouching in the shadow of musjid’s gleaming dome, arrows whistling past close enough to ruffle their headscarfs, shattering against the unyielding stone... And it was not only the Qalasheen’s ferocity that the invaders found - the humble but warm, peaceful town and its people had attracted friends and visitors, and they too picked up arms to fight - elven steel and orcish crossbow would strike out alongside the blades and knives of the Farfolk. As sweat glistened in the light of the rising moon, pouring along dust-coated skin and bloodied fingers, the defenders stood panting for breath before the town gates, its crumbling, half-ruined sandstone and wood patchwork walls barely rising above the tops of Qalasheen tents. The last of the raiders lay bleeding in the sand… A man strode forward, slowly pushing a corpse over with his boot, and frowned. Reivers. Al-Faiz had turned aside thirty Reivers, as the ocean waves crash against rock. As those injured were treated with desert herbs and the Elfess doctor who had come to the town to treat a sick hunter, the stars above were bright, and the air cool. In the city streets, a veiled woman’s hand shook within her gloves as she pressed against the patch of blood spreading across her husband’s side. Despite the heat of the armour she wore, her blood ran cold - between her fingers was the long shaft of an arrow, its head buried inches into his flesh. She cradled his head in her lap, promising him everything would be okay as she slowly slipped off his helmet and ran her fingers through his dark, messy hair, looking down into his tired eyes. As she murmured a soft prayer, she felt a hand press against the wound next to hers, and looked down into the face of her young daughter. “Don’t worry Mama! Baba is strong, right?” As tears ran down her face, the woman nodded. Healers soon arrived to care for her husbands wounds, assuring her it was a flesh wound. As she lifted water to his lips and cared for him as he recovered, she gave thanks for his survival. Alhamdulillah, there would be no fatalities from the raid. The worst wounds came from arrows, a weapon that was mostly used to cripple rather than kill. Al-Faiz has stood against its first test against the cruelties and arrogance of the world. Its people stood to defend their families and faith, aided by friends new and old - and now peace had returned to them. While many celebrated, and friends parted back to their homes, there were many who looked up to the light of the moon and stars above and thanked Allah for His deliverance on the field of battle that night. Others prayed for the strength to endure what was to come... GLORY TO ALLAH ALONE
  19. The soft wind breezed through her hair as she looked at the divine fields. Soon, her Mama called for both her and brother. They came sprinting from the fields, excited for whatever Mama has cooked up today for supper. The two children raced towards the supper table, jumping into their seats for Mama’s food. She cooked honey apple pork today, an old family recipe. Then, Papa came home. He gave Mama a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down to eat, he was dirty and smelled like manure and dirt, after all, he was working in the fields all day. Mama gave him some of the honey apple pork, his stomach growled, and he dug right in. After Mama, Papa, and the two kids were done eating, they headed off into their small rooms, settling down for the night, as tomorrow is a new day of work. Written by Augusta Johanna Borsa
  20. *A man arrives upon horseback, he presents a single parchment for a Curonian guard to retrieve for the King himself.*
  21. “Hold here ye’ old friend! ‘Ave heard much of the formidable you, and the loyal members of yer’ group!” A somber light would press through the grove, it almost seemed as if the sun itself was lost in the forest, and so it was more astonishing to see the old ranger appearing out of nowhere ... Breathtaking. The old ranger would approach you calmly, his armor shone green as if covered in moss and his weapons held low signaling peace... “I heard ye’ take care of any bounty, and venture out far away to claim a good hunt, as a ranger I appreciate this, ...” “Ere ya’ have it... tis’ be the last and final bounty, …’’ With a lot of respect, the ranger looked at the remaining scroll before handing it over to the bravest of hunters...“I’m no hunter myself, I’m a ranger and as it is our duty that we protect the balance of the forest and all descendants that venture into the forests may request a rangers help... but for this I need yer’ help” “5000 Mina if ye’ deliver me its corpse” When you turned away from the forest, the atmosphere seemed to change behind you, the old hunter couldn’t tell you more about the creature but least its appearance in a crude drawing, still you could somehow imagine the creature how it lurked through the night. The hunting instinct would’ve caught up the everyone by now knowing the large sum that was up for claiming this scroll ... or was it the curiosity that led you into the depths of the woods? Nevertheless an adventure would wait, and with these bounties at hand even thoughts of glory and praise come to mind! ((All group sizes are variable, message me on discord for further info)) D4NNA#6850 Event Location: [[590X 68Y -1130Z]]
  22. The Big Dogs are Back “A slaughter of fools…” comments Ralf Brawm to his father Geordie as he witnesses the carnage. The roads were devoid of life; the fear of death overpowering the Orenians’ duty to protect their land. The men of Ruswick were to blame for this, as they had been slaughtering the Orenian thralls in an operation, dubbed “Eland”, keeping the roads safe for their citizens. Hadrian Labdacus, the young son of Austin Labdacus, had noticed much activity within the capital of Helena, and had taken notice of the large amount of soldiers gathering. Under his father’s absence, he had began a ruthless campaign into the Imperial Heartlands. He quickly notified the men of Ruswick, and so the houses convened: Brawm, Labdacus, and Ruk. As the men gathered at the end of the bridge leading into Helena, a lone Ruk approached the rabid Orenians and began taunting them, japing of wingless dragons writhing in the dirt beneath his boots. For the great Ruk man knew that the underdeveloped Orenians would grow angry from the relentless insults and charge out to meet the Rusmen in combat. As expected, the Orenians sallied out in rage and surrounded the young Ruk. Geordie and Bron called upon their men and charged the serfs who had been harassing the young Ruk man under the guise of an empire. The great Rusmen under the command of Geordie Brawm and his son Ralf, confronting the Orenian dogs The men of Ruswick were outnumbered over two to one. They clashed arms in a stalemate on the bridge of Helena, taking potshots at each other. Amidst the fierce engagement, the wingless Emperor was knocked into the surrounding water by a squire of House Labdacus, drowning in the moat meant to protect his city. The squire buried his sword into a soldier’s neck, after he cut another’s hand off and split a third’s skull open. Geordie roared his orders across the bridge and roads, his colossal build standing out in the crowds of Rusmen. During a tactical retreat, Bron and Hadrian Labdacus were cut off from Geordie’s retinue as a result of an Orenian flank. In their escape, they led several foolish Orenians toward the moat, and they suffered the same fate as their Emperor: being brutally cut down in the murky waters of the unkempt Orenian moat. With some room to breathe, Geordie’s forces managed to push the Orenian thralls back towards their capital, claiming several lives in the process. The boy Emperor drowned in his moat. With time to spare, Bron and Hadrian made their way back. In a previous skirmish with Oren, Geordie and Bron had marked down the location of a bridge to be used as a choke point to funnel the crowds of Orenians. This was the time to use it, they decided. Seeing the Orenians getting anxious and overzealous, the men of Ruswick led them towards the bridge, slowly allowing them to gain ground. To any other foe this might seem quite obvious, but as mentioned before, the brain of the average Orenian thrall is not fully developed - around the 10th percentile of all Descendants, including Orcs and Ologs. Once at the bridge, the Rusmen set up a strong line of defence across the bridge and the Orenians charged it in futility, over and over, only to be swiftly pushed back and defeated - first by Geordie’s ferocious charge who, with his steel, cruelly cut down numerous Orenians, followed by volleys of arrows by Bron and his men. Soon to be followed by a swift slaughter by the Ruswick reserves, Bron charged in, finishing off many wounded Orenian dogs. Carnage ensued, and the weak Orenian retinue, their Emperor and all, was quickly dissolved by the company of Rhusmen. A hundred or so corpses sat on the Red King’s Road, decomposing. A lone Orenian survived the slaughter, allowed to leave by the Rusmen to spread tales of their bravery and to recruit others in their fight against the Orenian “men”. Bron Labdacus, the Red King, post-victory.
  23. The Ironguts The Ironguts are the longest living clan amongst the Dwedmar, being true Cave Dwarves at heart. Since the reign of Urguan, many Ironguts have held influential and vital roles, including Kings, Lords, and some even among the Order of Ascended. With these positions, the Ironguts have helped shape the world we see now. Through the forging of great weapons,the spelunking of cavernous ruins, and delving deep into the arcane, the Ironguts have been highly regarded among the Dwedmar. Ancient History of the Clan Modern History of the Clan Clan Government and Laws > The majority of decisions are made by the Clan Father, who solely holds the responsibility to lead the Clan. The Clan Father, chosen by a majority vote by the Elders of the clan, should represent the beliefs of the Clan. It is very rare, if ever, that a Clan Father is removed by the Elders. His word is the final say in matters > Elders of the Clan are elected by the Clan members themselves by popular vote. Elders are responsible for leading the clan members in place of the Clan Father is he cannot be there. > Elders are to reflect the Clan tenets directly onto the Clan members and beardlings. They also handle the initiation and teaching of magic to beardlings in the Clan. Clan Culture Forging of Weapons A tradition where those with the skills to use the Forge will often forge personal weapons. These weapons are a symbol of the Clansman's style of fighting and often have a symbol of the creator upon them somewhere, identifying them as that specific person. Many famous weapons are under possession of the clan, for example the famed blade of Dwain I Irongut, Mourgil, which is now in the hands of Balek Irongut. Beard Braiding Just having a simple beard is not enough for the Ironguts. The Clansmen can often be seen with braids in their beards. These can be as simple as forking the beard in two or as complex as weaving it into an intricate braid, some even weaving in gems, or adding rings of metal. The clan members grow their beards long and are careful not to burn them in the forge or get torn in battle. Magic Ironguts are known users of magic,and the only Dwarven Clan capable of learning Void Magic. Any member of the clan has the right to learn magic, so long as the member can follow the Clan rules. Those inclined to learn should first speak with an Elder in order to begin training. All apprentices are expected to be patient during the process of learning, as it is not a simple one. Magic is considered a sacred tradition within the Ironguts. Clan Crest The Ironguts often adorn a crest composed of a mug of ale and a sword to show that it was sent from an Irongut. We take pride in being Ironguts and won’t hesitate if we get a chance to show it! Clan Banners The Ironguts have always used their banners to mark their homes and Clan halls in the past. The banner is composed of our Clan crest and our Clan colors, silver and blue Clan Diplomacy Clan Ireheart: Friendly Clan Grandaxe: Friendly Clan Doomforge: Neutral Clan Frostbeard: Hostile Clan Irongrinder: Neutral Clan Goldhand: Neutral Clan Treebeard: Neutral Clan Starbreaker: Neutral Clan Silvervein: Friendly Clan Hammerforged: Neutral Records of the Ironguts ((Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=JBMRI&c=3rihhyqbxa&f=118731965149584681)) Clan Father: Dimlin Irongut (Beamon4) Clan Elders: Bolgnir Irongut(Tide1) Dwain II Irongut (Hiebe) Balek Irongut(Hobolympic) Clan Members: Tharggus Irongut (Tharggus) Balek Irongut (Hobolympic) Yeulf Irongut (IronGroot) Dorin Irongut (DarthArkous) Bolgnir Irongut (Tidemanno) Alfy Irongut(littleyoshy) Sharr Irongut (lordbobby123) Grandour Irongut(SaltyStormJakob) Ulhor Irongut(BlackDwarvenFire) Yor Irongut(punni_boi) Robin Irongut(Pilantos311) Beardlings: Hall of the Deceased: Deceased: Thordon Irongut ((Jordan1921)) Thrym Sliverfist ((NoobCrafert14)) Nurrak Irongut ((Destroyer_Bravo)) Kara Irongut ((skippyoak)) Gamil Irongut ((Unknown)) Belin Irongut ((Skinner541)) Isabelle Irongut ((Unknown)) Whurgar Irongut ((Owl_7)) Theor Irongut ((Blob9000)) Balin Irongut ((darkjames)) Thak Irongut ((GavinTheViking)) Ore'zy Irongut ((lawlmansayshi)) Fariken Irongut((30326)) Rehki Irongut ((bov61)) Smalltoe Irongut ((Musboris)) Nozagen Irongut ((Bov61)) Lilum Irongut ((KarmaDelta)) Chase Irongut((Dtrik)) Goroth Irongut((30326)) Dun Irongut ((blackhawk77g)) Skippy Irongut (skippy369) Honored Dead: Hiebe Irongut ((Hiebe)) Belin Irongut ((Skinner541)) Darius Irongut ((Blackhawk77g)) Phelrin Irongut ((ChAnKoEr)) Susan Irongut ((ABoyNamedSue)) Algrim Irongut ((Isemburt)) Draco Irongut ((RP)) Dwain Irongut ((RP)) Grungron Irongut(James27049) Missing (Previous list purged): Beardling Yurvo (MonkeyFaceGamer) Thorgrim Irongut (irDusk) Kilgrim Irongut (Kilgrim_) Gauldrim Irongut ((Redbench)) Banished: Mili Irongut ((Leland22)) Grimloth Irongut ((jakesimonson)) Tortek Silverfist ((Axmaynard)) Bofauk Irongut ((lawlmansayshi)) Duregar Irongut ((ww2buff99) Sili Irongut ((Leland22)) Aengoth Irongut ((Aengoth)) Uldar Irongut ((Tirenas)) Clan Tenets In-character 1. Respect your elders. Respect those who are older than you. You represent our clan and your actions, good or bad, affect us all. 2. Loyalty to your clan above all else. 3. Help your clansmen when you can. Don't abandon each other in fights, however hard it might be. Out-of-character 1. Your Irongut character should be your main character. 2. If you're an Irongut and you betray the clan, your character, if killed by an Irongut, is perma-dead. 3. Separate RP from OOC, we’re all friends here. Proving of the Lineage (Application) (Copy the below and paste to use) [ MC Name: ] What is your name? Where do you live? What are your primary skills? Short biography (5+ sentences): How are you related to the Irongut Clan? (See family tree, don't create your own father or mother unless you PM the Clan Father): Do you swear loyalty to the Irongut Clan?: OOC Do you agree to follow all the rules of the Irongut Clan? Discord ID? (optional, you can also send it through PM if required)
  24. I'm new to roleplay and am looking for a little help in creating my character for the application. I'm a little lost on where to find information and where to start with my character, I have no idea what I want her back story to be- where she's from and all that. I know her name is Muya and she's a wood elf. I tried going through the lore but it's a little difficult knowing what cities are being used currently and what lore to include in my backstory as it's hard to know when everything happened and what year the role play is currently in. I'd appreciate any and all kind of help so please, either reply to me here or my Discord is Kytux1103 #3061 Thank you in advance.
  25. D4NNA

    Arcadian Tides

    Naval Storyline Become a confidant of the sea and sail across the Arcadian Ocean with your ship and a faithful crew, life overseas is not easy and requires preparation, navigation and equipment ... not to forget the food on deck is required in large supply, and that's where the delicacies such as sea-fruit are found. Sailors whisper of a taste that comes from the depths of the seas … Explore the depths of the Sea Ruin and discover a world of water and the home of an ancient civilization ... The ocean itself has preserved this place and protected it from the torrents of time, much of the ruin could have survived ... It does not only awaken the treasure hunter instincts but also those of every fisherman, the first who dared to dive beneath the surface... Go under and face the forces of nature ... Descendants have always been made to live on land, but curiosity is like a blade piercing the sea, reaching deeper and diving recklessly. Conquering the deep is a trophy to each and every category, be it by arcane arts, research or even through sheer mind and will! A genius mind will reward their fellowship with the treasure of the deep, and a title to hone their tinkering skill Reveal what lies beneath the depths and ... In a place without light, life is a lantern ... Time is torn, swept between the tides changed the people T̷h̷e̷ ̴H̵y̷d̶r̴a̷ ̴r̶e̶b̸o̶r̴n̵,̶ ̸d̵e̶s̷c̶e̵n̷d̸a̴n̶t̵s̸ ̴c̴r̴e̶a̴t̸i̷n̴g̷ ̴a̵ ̷n̷i̴g̶h̶t̶m̸a̴r̵e̶ ̷o̷f̸ ̸t̶h̷e̴i̶r̴ ̵o̷w̸n̸ ̸…̴ ̴I̴n̷ ̷t̷h̵e̶ ̸p̸a̷s̸t̷,̶ ̶t̷h̶e̸y̴ ̶l̵i̷v̴e̸d̸ ̶i̷n̴ ̶h̷a̵r̶m̷o̴n̶y̸,̴ ̷p̵e̷a̵c̴e̴ ̴a̵n̷d̵ ̵f̶r̷i̷e̷n̸d̷s̶h̸i̷p̶ ̸w̸e̵r̶e̵ ̶o̴f̴f̵e̶r̵e̴d̵ ̵t̵o̴ ̷a̴l̶l̵ ̷w̸h̵o̷ ̵w̶e̴l̸c̷o̸m̸e̷d̷ ̴i̴t̷.̵.̷.̴ ̸b̷u̵t̷ ̴a̵n̵ ̸a̶g̷g̷r̴e̷s̸s̶i̴v̷e̸ ̷f̵o̸r̵c̸e̷ ̸s̷w̵a̸l̶l̶o̴w̸e̵d̵ ̴t̸h̴i̶s̶ ̴a̷g̴e̸ ̶o̴f̴ ̵f̷r̴e̴e̴d̵o̷m̵ ̵…̷s̵e̴a̸l̷e̷d̸ ̶b̸y̴ ̶a̵ ̵g̷u̶a̵r̵d̶i̵a̴n̷ ̵o̴f̷ ̶i̸m̸m̷e̸n̶s̸e̸ ̶p̵o̸w̴e̵r̸.̷.̴.̶ ̶ The great unknown... Discover new life and beings who were born in the deep, pelagic flora and amphibious ocean dwellers alike. The aquatic creatures seem to exist in a miraculous cycle and are in harmony with nature and the Descendants. In the tropical area near the Wildlands many creatures live in different ways and in different planes. Even for those who are not interested in science, the ruin is a beacon of life to ocean dwellers. ...Ultimately, every descendant can just discover for themselves what is behind the horizon for them ... Already have wet feet? Spoiler! Final Boss of the Storyline! If you’re interested feel free to leave a nice RP post! Thanks!
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