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Take Time To Smell The Roses

The Knight of Roses

"In a world divided into five continental countries, with the middle continent serving as a volatile buffer zone, tyranny reigns supreme in the southern continents, each governed by a ruthless monarch. The most dominant force in this oppressive empire is the Church of the Sun, where the Pope holds the highest authority, serving as both religious leader and king. The Church's power is further bolstered by the 12 Paladins and 24 Reverend Fathers, backed by an army of clergy soldiers. The catalyst for this tale is the infamous 'Day of Unity,' an event that transpired roughly 50-55 years ago. On this day, nations from across the continents gathered for diplomatic relations, only to face a treacherous assault by the Pope and his ruthless army. In a shocking turn of events, the Pope's forces attacked all attending nations, seizing their lands, and compelling the surviving members of royal families and their people to pledge loyalty to the oppressive empire. Yet, the kingdom of Valkenburg, renowned for its advanced military and impenetrable defenses, remained untouched, as their wise king sent only an emissary to the event. In this world, the mystical power of 'wave energy' flows through the veins of every individual, with each person born possessing a unique affinity. With rigorous training, they can harness multiple affinities. But there's more to this universe than meets the eye. Rift Gates scattered throughout Earth lead to other realms. These gates are largely controlled by the imperial army, except for those hidden in free territories or the untamed eastern regions. The alternate realms include 'The Realm of Disorder,' 'The Shadowlands,' 'The Land of the Fel' (comprising seven colossal circles, each the size of a solar system), 'Wonderland' (a heavenly realm with light-type beings and five expansive circles, symbolized as 'the five circles of the rainbow'), and 'Verdana.' At the pinnacle of this intricate universe stands the Titanomachy, god-like beings who rule over these realms and influence magic on the mortal plane. They are the architects of this fantastical world, each possessing unrivaled power and purpose. Amidst this intricate tapestry of realms, magic, and political intrigue, 'The Knight of Roses' embarks on a journey filled with danger, discovery, and destiny. The Main Character, Arryn of Asa, a battle-worn mercenary with a shadowy past, will navigate the tumultuous landscapes, confront the horrors lurking in the cursed forests, and delve into the mysteries of the dark lord and his connection to the shadowy figure. As the story unfolds, the MC will find themselves at the center of a brewing conflict, where loyalties will be tested, alliances forged, and the fate of nations hanging in the balance." written by yodyo10/pendragondyo
yodyo10 · 13.6K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 684.2K Views
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