Is There Any Greater Blasphemy Than That Of An Angel Who Fell In Love With A Demon?

"because you were lied to, does not mean that everything is a lie. do not take the crimes of those who have manipulated us and put them at the feet of the world."

brennan lee mulligan sometimes you say shit like this during a campaign and it makes me want to tear my hair out

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

A right hand man. A trusty sword. A friend.

Deli finds comfort in his new acquaintance. Colin Provolone is a sturdy and simple man— quick and skilled in battle, a loyal and reliable in service, and also a good friend. Deli, with boyhood now smudged against the edges of his face, grows into his position of The Meat Lands.

Colin keeps the promise he made years ago to a disgruntled mother in the corner of an expansive hall in Comida. He listens and enacts the advises and discussions made for the benefit of this land far from home. He keeps guard and wrestles the yawns that strangle his throat and eyes as politics are discussed. All standing, never leaving, the right hand of Deli.

Colin watches Deli through the days, this leader guided with a willpower of steel, the love and dedication to the unification of his home watering his quick growth and maturation. Two years and Deli had become a fearsome, confident and ambitious young man.

Then Deli lies a gift upon his shoulders— Skald Colin Provolone, meaning poet (sing the songs of heroes, be my witness, carve my name into history, approve of my works).

And when Deli uses this title, Colin doesn’t question. He only grips his sword tighter, stands straighter, observes steadier. Deli’s sword and shield. His skald, his poet.

And at night he meets a softer, kinder Deli. They sit on the edge of Deli’s bed, talking and laughing about smaller matters. Sweeter things, like childhood and gossip that whisper down the hallways. He watched Deli’s expressions pour out, an innocence that splays across his face. He finds delight in those times, a remedy for a past he tries to forget. Light laughter, “simple is always how we’ve kept things”, and drunkenness fills the air between the two.

Two quiet years. Then comes blood.

And blood and blood pours from a carriage and drips, viscous, hot and real from hands and blades.

A quiet shatter in friendship. A trusty sword clanks at the feet of Deli and the familiar, light scent of cheese drifts far away from the house.

For the first time in two years, Deli is alone. A void renders behind him where his skald, his poet, would be standing.

And then five years pass and Colin sees Deli again. Scars rip at his face and he explains in whispers the ambush which landed him with it. Colin examines Deli’s face and finds little. A hardened and rough man. Colin thinks Deli resembles his mother.

Colin thinks about how he might’ve been able to prevent it, how he would’ve kept his promise, how he would have been able to protect him or die trying. Deli’s sword and shield, his skald, his poet.

There, Colin watches Karna die and the light leave Deli’s eyes. He watches the replaced Skald (and he thinks about the way Deli reached out to her with this title that fit her so effortlessly) shredded into a million pieces and he hears something in Deli die along with it.

This time Colin saves him. He nurses his old friend to stability and yet the “yeah, we’ll talk later” never comes as he watches Deli walk off into the sunset, now a man that would never be the boy, the friend Colin knew five years ago. A man with a cold and lifeless portrait, his soft edges ragged and a heart half rotten.

A sword. A shield. A skald, a poet. Colin keeps a promise to a mother and son made seven years ago. A protector, dedicated and loyal. He swings his sword quietly, precisely, dangerously against the ones who killed all his friends, dead or alive. Colin Provolone, sole survivor of the Saprophus, the poet of dead heroes.

The Rook’s exchange.

I don’t care what story it is, if there’s a small talking fox with infinite wisdom, never ending trust and a love of trickery, I will love them.

The Wizard, The Witch and The Wild One’s Fox

The Little Prince’s Fox

D20 Neverafter’s Fox

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse’s Fox

All very beloved by me and I’m sure I’m missing a few of them

Surely it has been talked about how Penelope Everpetal and Aelwyn Abernant were definitely, 1000% a thing before she was taken to jail+kidnapped to Fallinel and Penelope died

i love you minecraft youtube, i love you minecraft storytelling, i love you improvised minecraft roleplay, i love you non traditional media, i love you block men who have literally made me shed tears, i love you medium that allows for use of imagination, i love you incredible and devastating plots delivered via silly mc mechanics

QSMP relationship chart:

I love how despite all his cheating allegations, Foolish has only attempted “cheating” twice

Meanwhile all those who hold these allegations against him have flirted at him AT LEAST ONCE!!

I just think it’s quite hilarious

Amethar, a little prince of the House of Rocks, so far away from the throne. Lover and loved. He makes choices as a human, before his position as prince. He has never understood the necessity and restraints of royalty. He marries his lover, a commoner. He is young and innocent, and he does it unabashedly, without hesitation and fear.

Caramelinda, Duchess of Merenge falls in love with the blinding brilliance that is Lazuli Rocks, the powerful Archmage of Candia. She knows power, she knows politics, and she knows the importance of unity of Candia. She marries her lover. She cares and loves with more than her entire existence and she achieves peace for her home too.

The Ravening War. Caramelinda finds the lifeless body of her wife scattered amongst the heroes of the war. The sound of her heartbreak deafens amid the devastation of the field. She cradles the body of her lover close to her heart, thumping and thumping yet Lazuli’s eyes remain vacant. The tragedy of our heroes. Caramelinda watches the Rocks sisters fall at the hands of this hungry, bloody war. She watches the line of crowned dominoes crumble and fall at the feet of young Amethar, warrior and sole survivor of The Ravening War.

Orphaned Amethar, Heartbroken Caramelinda wed, both hearts aligned to another. They wed, hearts broken and lost to a war, torn apart and left to a quiet, empty castle.

“Lazuli I loved with all my heart. And this (pointing at Amethar) is just politics.”

Two children are gifted to this loveless couple and they find solace in it. Twins with the beauty and brilliance of their mother and the determination and bravery of their father. Ruby and Jet hear the quiet arguments between their parents, “Amethar, the delay of conversation has been perhaps your most cardinal sin.” They see that their parents do not share the love-filled eyes they shine onto the sisters.

Caramelinda lost her heart years ago on the battlefield and Amethar, his, even before it.

Listening to WWW and every episode is just:

5 minutes in *jaw drop*, 20 minutes later *jaw drop*, 2 seconds later *hands over mouth screaming*, 30 minutes later *jaw drop*, last 5 minutes *sobbing*

Amongst a group of a queen, a powerful bishop, a skilled spy and a to be chief, only Colin Provolone, a Dairy Island runaway, really escaped Saprophus.

He whose secret forced him to escape his homeland, stay undercover, speak nothing, want nothing. He whose morality throws his sword at the feet of his good friend, a devotion severed by the burden of death, and to think that war was all he was good for.

And yet, he makes it out of the rot-filled cave. He saves Deli, half-dead, his body lying still at the mouth of the cave, and still half-dead as he walks over the horizon, never seen again. He protected Amangeaux, one who is forever indebted, her regret buried a thousand miles down a cave non-existent, a life owed to a memory of those lost and now lies dead beneath their feet.

Colin Provolone begins this journey a sword and shield. He protects and devotes and craves belonging. His allies are bloodied and shattered and their purpose lies dead, forgotten to war and revenge, names erased to the world they so desperately etched their nails into.

Yet Colin Provolone survives with a purpose so driven. He is a quiet survivor, a noble protector. He remembers his allies, their hubris, their desperation. He swings his sword so that this world may know peace a little longer, that the war may have served a greater good, that the blood spilled may have been worth it.

In nobility, in morality, in wit and in war, Provolone survives the manipulation, the secrets and the ravening war with greater purpose than he started with and more gained than lost.

Knight takes King.