✟DEUS✟ Quercus
Sir Lora   Gwent, United Kingdom (Great Britain)
 
 
I hail from :TheG::TheW::TheE::TheN::TheT:

Follow God's path or feel Tesla's wrath.

I am Quercus thy magnificent, bow before my arousing aura.

Come Quercus we must save the world from the giant acorn, it won’t defeat itself.

Quercus, our shield speaks, have you come to protect us from the giant acorn?

All of Rivellon is in great peril and must be saved from the giant acorn.

Quercus I know you grow attached to the giant races but have you no memory Quercus, do you not recall how they chop down our trees and our forests to use for their wicked contraptions and houses? Fine, fine Quercus, I will give our shield a little bit of magic, but only a little.

Hippocratic Oath

I swear by Apollo Physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panaceia and all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfil according to my ability and judgement this oath and this covenant:

To hold him who has taught me this art as equal to my parents and to live my life in partnership with him, and if he is in need of money to give him a share of mine, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage and to teach them this art - if they desire to learn it - without fee and covenant; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the medical law, but no one else.

I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgement; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

What I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep to myself, holding such things shameful to be spoken about.

If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come.


My mother used to say, "Quercus, don't throw stones at cripples", but my father, why he used to say "Aim for the head."

If you're to be hanged, ask for water. Anything can happen before they fetch it.

To the propitiousness of a good cause, and to the confusion of whoresons.

I was just getting something out of my wife's eye, nothing to be concerned over.

May the Father of Understanding guide us always.

God said to Noah there's going to be a floody floody. Rain came down and it started to get muddy muddy. Get those animals out on the Arky Arky.

Words build bridges into unexplored regions.

I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil! I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must.
For øyeblikket frakoblet
Kunstverkutstilling
Medical License
17 14 1
Kunstverkutstilling
Medical ID
2 4
Fremhevet kunstverkutstilling
Utter Bewilderment
14 1 1
Fremhevet kunstverkutstilling
Medical Certificate
23 9 1
Skjermbildeutstilling
Gaze upon, Sir Changzhou, the most gallant Chinese man and the epitome of Asian masculinity.
12 3 1
Skjermbildeutstilling
One such example, among an entire barrage of threats directed by the Chinese government to my person, proclaiming that they will send me to a training centre if I refuse to comply with their unfeasible demands.
15 9 2
Videoutstilling
Praise Rivellion, Behold Quercus in his omnipotent glory
9 12
Videoutstilling
Serenaded By A Russian
5 1
Favorittgruppe
Saving Rivellion - Offentlig gruppe
Saving Rivellon
148
Medlemmer
9
I spill
40
Tilkoblet
11
I samtale
Favorittgruppe
Wales - Offentlig gruppe
1 130
Medlemmer
64
I spill
357
Tilkoblet
123
I samtale
Workshop-utstilling
It is revealed that upon a misty night, Santa Clauses will abduct you, forcing yourself to toil away in indentured servitude, within his elaborate, grim Cidna Mines. Be wary, assign your children various bodyguards, lest you wish for your child to be chlor
0 vurderinger
Laget av - ✟DEUS✟ Quercus
Workshop-utstilling
Do you ever just want to have NPC wars but You end up accidently shooting a guy and have everyone attack you? ...or is that just me. Well anyway,I have the mod for you! This time it does something! It just adds followers that are stormcloak friends that ar
Laget av - Cone Boi
Gjenstander for byttehandel
1 393
Gjenstander eid
4
Byttehandler gjort
3 624
Markedstransaksjoner
Do you envision these female thralls? They will be slaughtered if you do not proffer cupcakes and a cask of Bugmens.

Allow myself to describe how such an act will occur. Two nubile women, will be entrapped within an enclosure, with members of SSG3's Sonic Iron Guard, clasping iron halberds and effectively barring the exit points. In regards to the numerical numbers, there will be two iron guard members, situated on each side, with each guard being hand picked from the kings personal hunting unit and subsequently being injected with a ample quantities of my own personal herbs, that once ingested imbue the individual with temporary bouts of zeal and psychosis. Effectively, it would be ludicrous and undoubtedly idiotic to attempt to go within a one metre proximity of these guards during their psychotic episodes. As such, the females will be forcefully constrained within a narrow room, with two executioners bearing a mallet and broadsword providing affable company. These executioners, whilst not much for conversation are an amiable sort and will ensure that the females engage in a jubilant execution, one that if they had any possibility of surviving, would be able to recommend to their friends and family. However, fret not, for they will not be executed unless you refuse to abide by my demands. I will release these captives, alongside two patriotic Welsh CD's, in exchange for a batch of cupcakes, equip with delectable, medieval themed icing. Furthermore, I require a cask of the elusive, frequently sought after bugmen's. Let it not be said that I am unhinged, nor shall the masses exclaim that I am an unreasonable individual. I have provided the family and relatives of these females an opportunity of safe haven, all that is required is compliance and appetising produce.

Ah, apologies, I became relatively sidetracked, I forgot to comprehensively describe what would occur if my demands were not met with utter compliance. The blonde haired female on the left will be ruthlessly skewered, whilst the one on the right will have her cranium caved inwards as a result of the mallets wrath. If for some nebulous reason, you do not regard my statement in earnest, then hear me out, you not only abandon these females to a grisly fate, but you simultaneously bawk at Christ.

The action of dashing an individuals head against a curb is reminiscent of the Bible, being depicted in Biblical references. May God bless the one who concocted Psalms 137:9, "Happy is he who smashes your little ones against the rocks". The author is resolutely a venerable and omniscient elder, for he forevisioned exasperating children, crying incessantly on planes, children hurling rocks at you for offering free babysitting, children falsely alerting the authorities for pedophilia and most significantly, for an event such as this.

Mønti Pythøn ik den Hølie Gräilen
Røten nik Akten Di
Wik
Alsø wik
Alsø alsø wik
Wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër ?
See the løveli lakes
The wøndërful telephøne system
And mäni interesting furry animals
Including the majestik møøse
A Møøse once bit my sister...
No realli! She was Karving her initials øn the møøse with the sharpened end of an interspace tøøthbrush given her by Svenge, her brother in law, an Oslo dentist and star of many Norwegian møvies: "The Høt Hands of an Oslo Dentist", "Fillings of Passion", "The Huge Mølars of Horst Nordfink"
Mynd you, møøse bites Kan be pretty nasti...
Møøse Trained by YUTTE HERMSGERVØRDENBRØTBØRDA
Special Møøse Effects OLAF PROT
Møøse Costumes SIGGI CHURCHILL
Møøse choreographed by HORST PROT III
Miss Taylor's Møøses by HENGST DOUGLAS-HOME
Møøse trained to mix concrete and sign complicated insurance forms by JURGEN WIGG
Møøses noses wiped by BJØRN IRKESTØM-SLATER WALKER
Large møøse on the left hand side of the screen in the third scene from the end, given a thorough grounding in Latin, French and "O" Level Geography by BO BENN Suggestive poses for the møøse

Executive ProducerJOHN GOLDSTONE & "RALPH" The Wonder Llama
Directed By
40 SPECIALLY TRAINED
ECUADORIAN MOUNTAIN LLAMAS
6 VENEZUELAN RED LLAMAS
142 MEXICAN WHOOPING LLAMAS
14 NORTH CHILEAN GUANACOS
(CLOSELY RELATED TO THE LLAMA)
REG LLAMA OF BRIXTON
76000 BATTERY LLAMAS
FROM "LLAMA-FRESH" FARMS LTD. NEAR PARAGUAY

Oh, what sad times are there when passing ruffians can say "Ni!" at will to old ladies! There is a pestilence in this land! Nothing is sacred! Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress at this period in history! Shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is Roger the Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies.

Arthur: O Knights of Ni. We have brought you your shrubbery. May we go now?
Knight of Ni: It is a good shrubbery. I like the laurels particularly, but there is one small problem.
Arthur: What is that?
Knight of Ni: We are now *no longer* the Knights Who Say "Ni"!
Other Knights of Ni: Ni! Shh! Shh!
Knight of Ni: We are now the Knights who say "Ekky-ekky-ekky-ekky-z'Bang, zoom-Boing, z'nourrrwringnmmm".
Other Knight of Ni: Ni!
Knight of Ni: Therefore, we must give you a test.
Arthur: What is this test, o Knights of.. Knights who 'til recently said "Ni"?
Knight of Ni: Firstly, you must find.... ANOTHER SHRUBBERY!!! THEN... Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly higher, so we get the two-level effect with a little path running down the middle.
Other Knights of Ni: A path! A path! A path! Shh, shhh. Ni! Ni!
Knight of Ni: Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest... Wiiiiiithh.... A HERRING!
Gjenstander for byttehandel
1 393
Gjenstander eid
4
Byttehandler gjort
3 624
Markedstransaksjoner
That night when Quercus came, Nk was waiting for him. He stood in the door of her tent and looked at her with bewilderment. Nk rose slowly and opened her sleeping silks, allowing them to fall onto the ground. "This night we must go outside, my lord", Nk told him, for the Rivellions believed that all things of significance in a mans life was to be held underneath the radiant, open sky. Quercus followed her out into the moonlight, the bells in his hair tinkling softly. A few yards from her tent was a bed of soft grass, and it was there that Nk drew him down. He he tried to turn her over, she placed a hand on his chest. "No", Nk whispered. "This night I would loon on your face." There is no privacy in the heart of the brotherhood. Nk felt the eyes on her as she undressed doctor Quercus, heard the soft voices as she did the things that Warden Bill taught her to do. It was nothing to her. Was she not Quercus' magnanimous concubine? His were the only eyes that mattered, and when she mounted him she saw something there that she had never envisioned before. She rode him as fiercely as ever she had ridden her stallion, and when the moment of his pleasure came, Quercus called her name.
They were on the far side of the Rivellion sea, when Proctor brushed the soft swell of Nk's stomach with her fingers and said, "concubine, you are with child." "I know," Nk replied. It was her fourteenth name day.

The procession waited on the grassy shore as Nk stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked she stepped gingerly into the water. Warden Bill said that the lake had no bottom, albeit Nk felt the ground as she pushed throughout the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. Nk cupped her fingers and lifted the water atop her head, cleansing herself anew. When she emerged from the lake, shivering and dripping, her handmaid Zokh hurried to her with a robe of painted silk, but Quercus waved her away. He was looking on her swollen breasts and the curve of her belly with approval, and Nk could see the shape of his manhood pressing through his Rivellion themed trousers. She went to him and helped him unlace. Then her huge warden took her by the hips and lifted her into the air as he might lift a child. The bells in Quercus’ hair rang softly. Nk wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck as he thrust himself inside her. Three quick strokes and it was done. “Cymru am Byth” Quercus whispered hoarsely, before allowing her onto the ground. Only then was Zokh permitted to drape her in the scented silk.

Nk wrapped her arms about his neck. “I would not want it said that I made a liar of you,” she whispered in a husky voice. “Give me an hour, and meet me in my bedchamber.” “We’ve waited long enough.” Quercus thrust his fingers inside the bodice of her gown and yanked, the silk parting with a ripping sound so loud that Nk was afraid that half of the Rivellion keep must have heard it. “Take off the rest before I tear that too”, Quercus said. “You can keep the crown on. I like you in the crown.”

The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Quercus, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king.
Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. If I went 'round, sayin I was an emperor, just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!

And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, 'O Lord, bless this thy hand grenade, that with it thou mayst blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy.' And the Lord did grin. And the people did feast upon the lambs, and sloths, and carp, and anchovies, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and fruit bats, and large chulapas. And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.

Oh! I'm afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet, compared to yours. We're eight score blondes and brunettes, all between 16 and 19 and a half, cut off in this castle, with no one to protect us. It is a lonely life. Bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear. We are just not used to handsome knights.

Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch. Tell me. What do you do with witches? Why that is correct, we burn them. And what do you burn apart from witches? Exactly, wood is flammable. So, why do witches burn? Indeed, because they have been concocted out of wood, good! Heh heh. So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood? Nay, we cannot build a bridge out of her, as can can you not also make bridges out of stone? Does wood sink in water? Nay, it floats. What also floats in water? Exactly, a duck. So logically, if she weighs an identical amount to a duck, then she's concocted out of wood, which therefore depicts that she is a witch. Summon the scales, allow us to discern whether this woman is a fair maiden, or a malevolent sorcerer.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,
All good children go to heaven.
Doctor Quercus
On the 14th of Frostful Dawn the destruction of our land Rivellion was prophecised to occur in two millennia, the exact description of how our prosperous lands would be destroyed was ambiguous, yet one distinctive truth remains, the threat would emerge and threaten to engulf Rivellion.
THAT DAY IS NOW, our lands are stricken with war and patients are escaping the clutches of their benevolent doctors. All the while our vile adversaries, the Knights of Drey accumulate their forces, and summon the giant acorn in a scheme to make squirrels reign supreme.
Now normally I wouldn't be opposed to this however, these INSOLENT FIENDS, practice VILE NECROMANCY, a practice of foul sorcery which is an AFFRONT UPON LIFE AS WE NATURALLY KNOW IT.
I urge you to aid me on my quest in saving Rivellion, and restoring purity to our lands once more.

25 PERCENT
Of Mantises get eaten alive by the female during intercourse
THIS IS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CANNIBALISM
We must band together and prevent this rampant cannibalism in Mantis societies

Girdlegard is a neighbouring kingdom to Rivellion, a place where Dwarves, Elves and Humans coexist
This kingdom was previously under threat, by an army of Tion's creatures
Alflings, also known as corrupted Elves, Orcs, Bognolins and Ogres were sent forth to extinguish the light of humanity
They wished to increase the reign of the perished land, which has the ability to resurrect and produce an army of revenant warriors
The only way to defeat an undead soldier, resurrected by the perished soil was to decapitate them, only then would they cease doing the corrupted lands bidding
Although the threat has been extinguished in these fair lands, after Tungil Goldhand himself forged the axe Keenfire out of Sigurdaisy wood and various metallic components, using the axe to slay Keenfire, there still remains an existing threat to the west. It is an ambiguous force, one that we must remain vigilant against.

The five founders of the Dwarven folks were created by Vraccas, who gave each of them a name. The father of the Thirdlings cast off his Vraccas given name and called himself Lorimbur, which is how he has been always known. The other Dwarves each received a particular talent for their folks and so the smiths, the masons, the gem cutters and the goldsmiths were born. But when it was Lorimbur's turn, Vraccas told him: "You chose your own name, so you must choose your own talent. Teach yourself a trade, for you can expect nothing from me." Lorimbur attempted to teach himself a trade and apprenticed himself to each of his brothers in turn, but his efforts were unrewarded. The iron cracked, the stone split, the gems shattered and the gold cindered. It was after constant failure that Lorimbur came to envy his brothers and his spiteful heart was filed with eternal hatred for all Dwarves. Determined to excel at something, he applied himself in secrecy to the art of combat. His aim was not merely to defeat his enemies, but to vanquish every Dwarf in Girdlegard, so that none of his kin could overshadow him again.

Once was a man from Vicovaro, tight at night, shed be loose come 'morrow, early in the morning!
Another maid from Vicovaro, plouged with pleasure and drank with sorrow, till early in the morning!
Our third maid was not demanding, gave it up to any man standing, early in the morning!

As part of the new Welsh healthy scheme, it has been decided upon to provide free dumplings for all, would you care for a dumpling?

Why change the past when you can own this day?

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake, fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!


Now I am certain that you all are impressed with my vast intellect so sit down and let me tell you a story,
as is custom upon us Greek denizens of Ithaca.
I hail from the lands of Crete and am a returning war veteran from Troy.
However, alas I found my house in ruins, and so i wonder the everlasting plains, seeking glory and fame, so i may settle anew.
That is how i came to find your husband, my dear Penelope. While I was nesting inside my straw hut, hiding away from the elements he stumbled into my makeshift home. First he ate everything in my cabinet, took a leak and then demanded presents.
He told tall tales to me of his adventures, and his home, and you Penelope his dear wife.
He told me to come here to his kingdom Ithaca on this rosy fingered dawn and tell you about his whereabouts.
He also told me you would give me presents,
and that you would have Oreos in the cabinet,
I hope you do not come to disappoint.
Let me describe his appearance to you.
he has bright blue eyes, light bring hair and he wore a purple Toga.
He had an affinity for wearing coral necklaces, strung together by seaweed.
And why just yesterday I saw him preaching to the masses about how he was not Jesus, Alas no, he told us none of us were Jesus, but instead we bore the capabilities and affinity to perform divine, miraculous acts similar to how our lord and saviour, Jesus the son of God and Mary.
As I sailed here to Ithaca I thought it wise to deliver this news.
Take my tidings as good fortune, your husband remains alive.
And just today I had a dream,
An eagle was carrying 20 geese in the air, that is a good omen.
Your husband will return in less than a year, no more than 1, and he will drive these suitors laying ruin upon your house out permanently
The day of retribution will arise.
All the traitorous handmaidens, the greedy conniving suitors and charlatans laying ruin upon your house will arrive, Odysseus will rally the men and will fight alongside your son Telemachus to triumph upon those conniving wretches.
I believe this day will be a Thursday, for Thursday is a lucky number
Do you know why the number four is a lucky number?
No Penelope, you are a middle aged woman, you don't have school, all you do is make shawls which you then sabotage, forcing yourself to restart the creation of the shawl to further deceive your suitors.
You are an expert knitter indeed
Now would you like to hear why four is a lucky number?
Good answer Penelope.
You see four is a lucky number because it is he day that God created the celestial bodies of the universe, the luminaries we know as the sun and moon.
It is the day that light was generated, providing us alongside the rabbits and chirping birds with sun.
It is the day the trees became alive and rejuvenated.
On this day he also created the moon, to distinguish the times of day.
The moon reflected the suns light, and provided us mere mortals with the knowledge that within darkness arose light.
Truly a inspirational message.
it also allowed beddy byes to happen.
Most significantly of all he created stars, the glittering objects inspiring our imagination and fantasy
the shining beacons of hope which bless us with their array of light
Remember that each star is a God, and most significantly each star is God.

The God's made us too dissimilar. Sitalia created the Elves to love the skies and forests, Vraccas gave us our caverns and underground halls.

When I was little, my mother told me stories about a terrifying being, the king among Tion's and Samusin's creatures, the predator of predators, the hunter who hunted his own kind, destroying the weak and fighting the strong to make them stronger. Or to kill them if their ascendancy was undeserved. She said that his eyes shone with violet light and that weaker beings fled for their lives at the sight of him.
The Warden
I am the venerable sage, the one who you frequently espy lying along the cobblestones, bellowing archaic prophecies, in a garbled tongue, out of a thieved traffic cone. The hordes of onlookers shy away, frightened by the knowledge and truth that I sprout. Within time Fluffles, you too will reach a similar epiphany.

The winds beckon, the sheets allure me with their feathers. The malachite table, longs to be gnawed, my teeth ache for nibbles. I will gnaw upon this table, or I will suppress the urge, only for it to be ignited at a later time, possibly a wedding, where the bride will be served alongside hot chocolate and roasted marshmallows.

That's what we are: soldiers. Waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you don: Weeb, Furry, Portuguese game reviewer, you prey on the weak, the Children of Rivellion will hunt you down.

Fluffles, in this world you either succumb to mediocracy, or polymorph into an eccentric troubadour.

The chronicle of my Pokemon adventure.
I recall playing my first Pokemon game and exclusively using the grass type starter Chikorita
I caught Raichu with a masterball, providing me ownership of two high leveled Pokemon
I marched up to the elite 4, after surpassing the rock cave.
The predicmanet was that I wasn't aware of using potions and whatnot, I was too young and inept to comprehend the significant of items asides from Pokeballs.
So every attempt at surpassing the elite 4 and grand champion were accompanied by failure.
I recall, due to my overlevled Raichu and grass starter I always surpassed the first 3, ascending to the fourth and possibly even the champion.
When i fought the champion I always solely had one pokemon, who was poisoned by the cobalt from the previous elite 4 member.
Fortunately, after returning some time later I was able to triumph over Lance.

There was once a feline, an ordinary, tabby mouser. One day the feline went off, all by itself, on a long journey to a terrible dark forest. He walked and he walked and he walked. Keep quiet rascal, don’t make me get the belt. Anyhow, he walked and he walked, until he encountered a fox with a scarlet coat. The fox looked at the cat. “Who are you?” he asked. “I’m a cat,” replied the cat. “Ha,” said the fox. “But aren’t you afraid, cat, to be roaming the forest alone? How will you respond if the king comes a hunting? With hounds and mounted hunters, alongside bears? I tell you cat,” said the fox, “the chase is a dreadful hardship to creatures of our calibre. You have a pelt, I have a pelt, and hunters never spare creatures like us, because hunters have sweethearts and lovers, who’s little hands and necks get cold, so they make muffs and collars fr those strumpets to wear.” Don’t interrupt. The fox went on, “ I, cat, know how to outwit them, I have one thousand, two hundred and eighty six ways to outfox those hunters, so cunning am I. And you cat, how many methods do you have? The cat said, “I fox, don’t have any ways, I only know one thing, up a tree as quick as can be. That ought to be enough, oughtn’t it? The fox burst out laughing, “Hah,” he said, “What a goose you are. Flourish your stripy tail and flee, for you’ll perish if the hunters spot you.” And suddenly, out of nowhere, the horns bellowed and the hunters leaped out of the bushes. And they saw the cat and the fox and soon they set upon them. QUIET. Anyhow, they were yelling, “Have at them, we’ll make muffs out of them muffs! And they set the hounds on the fox and the cat. The cat using it’s one ability, darted p a tree, like every cat does. Right to the very top. But the hounds seized the fox! And before Reynard had time to use any of his cunning ways, he’d been transformed into a collar. And the cat simply meowed from the top of the tree, hissing at the hunters, who were unable to do anything to him. They stood at the foot of the tree, swearing like troopers, but they had to go away empty handed. And then the cat climbed down from the tree and slunk calmly home. The moral of the story is to hone your innate abilities, utilising them as an alternative to various deceptive tricks, that threaten to lull your consciousness into a perpetual state of complacency.

Little Dryads were hungry for tales. Just as little Witchers. Because both of them were seldom told bedtime stories. Little Dryads fell asleep listening raptly to the wind blowing in the trees. Witchers fell asleep to their arms and legs aching from the belt.

Ysmir, Shor's Tongue, Dragon of the
North and noble champion who
defeated the Direnni and cleaned
Skyrim of the Alessian heresy.


Biography, denial of accusations of pedophilia

Greetings all, I am Quercus, the true squirrel descendant of Rivellion, and today I have come to discuss the allegations of pedophilia. On the whole, these allegations are inherently false, and stem from a separatist movement, seeking only to defame, and destroy my integrity. These allegations are by large completely, and utterly unfounded, being likely sent by Goatboy or Ranger himself in an attempt to thwart my plans.


Rivellion Description

Rivellion is a beautiful, prosperous land, filled with lush rainforests, snowy mountain peaks and other ecological wonders of all types. In essence, Rivellion is my land, and the land I will continuously protect from the giant Acorn, which is being sent by the Knights of Drey, in their dastardly plot to wreak havoc, and create a land where only squirrels will be able to reside.


Academia

The antlers of a deer are known for magical qualities. So being quite sincere, I know that you can bodily knock over your opponent by shooting a sharpened chip and he'd lie their frozen, but only for a bit.


Quotes

They summoned the Great Acorn once, they will be able to summon it again. We have to destroy their order once and for all.

Now, you have all the power you need. You were a wonderful Shield as we fled, but now we are not running any more. Now you must become the Axe.

Go, my friend, and lay waste to the forces of the acorn! Hack them to pieces! Snap their spines and burn their eyes and - ahem, Quercus says 'good luck'.

I have observed you defeat monsters, villains, and a surprising number of inanimate objects, but your greatest challenge yet lies before you.

Allies Of Rivellion

Enemies Of Rivellion

As I have reiterated above, the Knights of Drey are the primary adversaries of Rivellion. They aim to unleash the wrath of the giant acorn, causing a land where squirrels will reign supreme. Normally as a squirrel I would not be so opposed to this plan, however, the Knights of Drey practice vile necromancy, a forbidden art shunned by all. They seek to corrupt and ruin my land, and as such my stalwart shields and I will protect it until serenity remains in the land once more. Additionally, the children of Rivellion are officially warring with the DEUS soldiers who are loyal to Goatboy35, these include.
Rangers Inept Apprentice -
Warden Bill -
SPQR Gorilla -

Art

:ab_englishflag:
:ab_germanflag:
:england:
:netherlands:
:spain:
:agathacross:
:masoneagle:
:cow_cross:
:ironcross:
:emofdr:
:helloween:
:DAOHumanNoble:
:minermole:
:MedicalCross:
:galdr:
:mjolner:
:crunchychick:
:Snow:
:goatclan:
:BalkanCross:
:templars:
:icross:
:GERMANREICH:
:UK:
:CoalitionFlag:
:DEUflag:
:germanflag1918:
:golden_mark:
:Saxon:
:US:
:cs2lamb:

Collection Of Females

:DAOCommonElf:
:MaterialGirl_expression3:
:pgms_erina:
:rfga_gold_mine_girl:
:SMGHikariblush:
:amaya1:
:Girl1:
:Girl3:
:Girl5:
:Girl6:
:fuhrer_loving:
:Dragonia_expression2:
:Dragonia_expression4:
Favorittveiledning
14 vurderinger
I see you gather before me... hungry... terrified... Clutching your babes to your breast. The degenerate empire known as SPQR has marched its legions into our lands... Laid siege to every fortress from here to the Blue Mountains. Rabid and ravenous, it bit
Favorittveiledning
Laget av - ✟DEUS✟ Boersonn
2 vurderinger
I wager that all of you, at least those on the glorious continent of Oceania have heard of the Mordhau clan SPQR. Renowned for their zeal and tenacity in copulating with horses, they are a force to reckoned with. As quoted by SPQR’s leader himself, they “s
Anmeldelsesutstilling
5,6 timer spilt
Before we delve into the bulk of the review, I would like to utter a confession. I bought this game with only minor prior knowledge, having minimal information for the developer or the story itself. I bought this game for the aesthetics and frankly, because of my heartfelt desire to pollinate with that seductive, blue eyed vixen featured on the front cover. Now that my confession has been revealed, allow the genuine review to commence.

Upon loading into the game, I was greeted with personally engraved Chinese messages. Using my knowledge of basic Mandarin, I was able to decipher the true meaning of these messages. It appeared that an entire barrage of threats, perpetuated by the Chinese government was being sent to my person. An onslaught of demands, ‘requested’ my assistance, with refusal to do so resulting in imprisonment in one of their ‘training’ centres. Naturally, I refused to comply with these unfeasible demands, promptly changing the translation to English. Note, the ability to change the language wasn’t exactly concealed and as such it took 10 minutes to locate. You’d presume that you’d be able to alter the default language before you loaded up the game, but alas no, these developers want you to suffer for not speaking fluent Mandarin.

After, changing the language, I briskly began to play the game, entering the customization section. Quickly, I realised that the options were relatively limited, with the hair and eye colour unable to become modified. As a result, I used what tools were available to my person and set about creating a bug eyed, wilderbeast, wearing the mask of a feline. Truly the epitome of masculinity. After creating my elite Chinese soldier, I delved into the realm of this already peculiar game. Upon loading, I found myself venturing in the barren depths of the Chinese desert, scavenging for supplies like a lowly peon. Due to the lacking tutorial and complete disappearance of any quest markers, I was at a loss. I decided the most logical course of action would be to accumulate an army and fortunately there was an encampment nearby. My cursor revealed that in said encampment there were mistreated prisoners, with the hastily made translation insinuating that the prisoners would fling to my banner if I saved them. Naturally I attempted to free the prisoners, albeit it all went awry. After attempting to assassinate 15 guards, inflicting minor wounds, my skull was cracked open like a coconut crab and I was promptly released with a stern warning. I was astounded by this utterly idiotic dialogue, these guards who were supposed sadists, torturing defenceless prisoners just allowed an attempted murderer to leave, virtually unscathed. Astoundingly, these guards are a tolerant bunch. After my stern warning I learnt my lesson and began to wander the desolate, bleak plains of Feudal China. Everywhere I went, I was harassed by wolves and insecure bandits, facing animosity in every direction. All the while, I was stuck in this God forsaken desert, surrounded by the same surroundings. Truly an extraordinary start.

After fighting numerous adversaries, I realised with dismay that the combat was repetitive drivel, with the auto combat rivalling that of even Raid Shadow Legends. From my experience, the combat appears to be occasionally clicking space to dodge, left clicking enemies to attack and sparsely using special abilities, all the while allowing the character to auto manage the majority of the combat. Truly, I would rather have Dwarven harlots come to my house daily, with Jehovah’s witness ham fisting a Bible down my throat then endure this disgraceful combat system.

Anyhow, even after all seemed bleak, I persevered, determined to try to extract a tinge of enjoyment. Shortly, in my campaign I encountered a bandit leader camp, and promptly decided to “Make Trouble” for them. While I originally envisioned a mass assault, resulting in a massacre, the reality was relatively underwhelming. Apparently the hastily constructed translation meant 1v1 duel the bandit leader with flimsy practice weapons and afterwards shake hands. After my initial triumph, I attempted to fight the bandit leader again, however, the bandit with a gesture of chivalry deigned not to. It is truly astounding, how such courtesy exists in a world rife with violence and bloodshed.

At this moment I gleaned some significant information, the story, narrative and translation was immensely shoddy. Barely any consistency exists, characters change allegiances on a whim, quests don’t have markers and it all erupts into a confusing mess. The characters motivations if utterly devoid of logic and is frankly ludicrous, I recall witnessing the justification for a quest being, “He seems serious we should do something.” This ties in well with the locations for quests. When compared to a game such as Mount and Blade, although no quest markers existed, the description detailed the location of the village the quest was nearby, allowing the missions to be completely with convenience and administrative efficiency. In this game on most occasions you are told, “Please save and ransom my friend, he is nearby.” GREAT, THANKS. Furthermore, since I am not a Chinese farmer toiling away at my rice fields ,describing a characters appearance as, “He is as a dried vegetable on the first day of the rainy season” makes little sense. Overall, the dialogue is more perplexing than all the solar systems combined, it is a genuine enigma.

I have witnessed those with Stockholm syndrome, attempting to justify a positive review for this game. They describe this game as a ‘Good alternative to strategy games.’ To call this game a good alternative to other strategies, is equivalent to saying, ‘This toaster is a suitable alternative to bath soap’, it is utterly ridiculous. Those suffering from Stockholm syndrome, furthermore, call the game a ‘Good game with flaws’, which is identical to saying, ‘Ted Bundy is a wholesome man with slight personality flaws.’ It becomes apparent that the undying fans, of this shrivelled, decayed game are severely downplaying the downsides in order to convince themselves that this game in it’s current state is a worthwhile investment.

Overall, this game is as though I am bound to a chair, being slapped and beaten within an inch of my life by an old man. Every time, I recuperate, he then forces me, under threat of assaulting my wife and children, to play this game, essentially perpetuating me to endure this game. Eventually, after such a prolonged period of playing this game, I scream, I bellow and I shout and eventually the neighbours hear and alert the police, who siege my captors house and eventually save me. Afterwards, I then suffer from trauma and resort to alcoholism in an attempt to purge the memories of my experience playing this, temporarily it succeeds, however, eventually the embodiment of mediocrity returns to haunt my computer. Fortunately, shortly afterwards, I write this review and with the power of venting, all of my inner demons are expelled and once again I am a pure individual, able to escape the wrath of this game and their squirrel developers. It is not often that I play a game of this calibre. I would like to conclude that my enjoyment level while playing peaked at 2/10, that our overlords have flawlessly translated this game and soon it will be ready for cyber warfare.
Anmeldelsesutstilling
Now despite the fact I am unable to play this game, as Scratt appears to have an erratic and noteworthy seizure every time I attempt to play this hidden gem, it is ultimately a masterpiece. During my short experience of playing I was immediately travelled back in time, to the era of my youth, the golden age of PS2. After witnessing the prime graphics and reminiscing on how similar the games aesthetic was to Spyro The Dragon on PS2, I was immediately placed in an orgasmic trance. When the game immediately crashed, I collapsed and fell unconscious, with my psychological state spiralling into the depths of my memory. I awoke into the spiritual realm, what surrounded my person was not a chair, with a laptop overlooking lush green foliage, but instead shards of ice, I was in the North Pole. I realised quickly that I was situated upon a highly reflective, immense fragment of ice. What astounded me the most however, was my appearance. I was no longer Quercus, instead I appeared to be some form of raccoon, masquerading as a squirrel, in essence I was Scratt. I began to feel an insatiable hunger, my stomach was demanding that I feast. I demanded acorns, a multitude of acorns that would put even the most bulbous monarch to shame. It was just my luck that I envisioned an obese child, adorned with an ice cream shirt, frolicking unawares only twenty meters away. I knew my objective, subdue the child and consume him to ensure that the perilous journey of acquiring the acorn is a success. With undue meticulous precision, I crept, slowly and silently, winding my way towards to the child, who was now building a snowman that my acorn addled mind imagined was a plot to mock me, MOCK ME FOR MY INEPTITUDE AT ACQUIRING AN APETISING ACORN. I was furious, I would show this insolent twerp never to mock an esteemed and hinged medical professional. After creeping ever so gradually forward, I laid hands on a jagged rock and pounced. I swung and swung, caving the child's head in with the rock. This was not a child anymore, instead he was now a hybrid, a boy who after the cultivation of my energetic scientific endeavour was now half rock and half man. His head was no longer intact, nay, it was now a rock, a rock filled with the finest nutrients that this snowy tundra could offer. Marvelling at my scientific creation I decided a proper celebration was in order. With a jubilant ambience in the air I dug ravenously into my meal, absorbing the rock child's blue energy orbs and leaving the bones for the seals. After my feast, wings had sprouted from my back and I began to levitate. Soon I was soaring through the untamed sky's, zapping effeminate seagulls and Albatross out of the sky, while captivating the strong. Soon I had accumulated an army of winged creatures and I realised it was time to secure the acorn. I located the love of my love, with her nutty caramel skin and a earthy scent, sitting enticingly upon an icy ridge. She was being held captive by ginger scientists, stemming from the Pacific archipelago in the Polynesian islands. What's worse is that these fiends had aligned themselves with Santa's rowdy Elves, forming an unholy coalition. After seeing this insolence I gave the order, my army and I descended, ready to smite the fear of God into these fiends. We would baptise them not once but twice, once in water and once in flame. They would be blessed, they would become holy and this nutty adventure would finally be finished. While the fighting ensued, I dove towards my love and grasped her snugly with delight, we would never part.

What is this? Where am I, why am I sitting on a chair? Ah of course, it was all a dream, an illusion to allure me into the realm of Ice Age. Well it appears I am doctor Quercus again, no longer infatuated to an acorn but instead my wife BJ. I for one am glad to have been whisked out of that reality, for now I am back here, into the realm of realism.

Instead of delving into the arctic archipelago, I am instead staring at an image of Scratt with cerebral palsy on my computer screen.

The game may have deprived me of my nutty adventure, but my dreams did not.
Wood 28. sep. kl. 8.26 
Welsh man :ccknight:
((((Semyon The Great)))) 11. sep. kl. 10.30 
TURN ON THE ORB, A SECOND DRAGON HAS FLOWN INTO THE SPIRES!!!!!
𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖉𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕪 22. aug. kl. 21.44 
#FREEMALIGNITY
#MALIGNITYDINDUNUFFIN
#JUSTICEFORMALIGNITY
#HECANTBREATHE
✟Seaside Marauder✟ 14. aug. kl. 22.50 
Could it be that you bear a tinge of resentment, coupled in with mental instability yourself, and are seeking to smite Cymru's finest medical practitioner with what ails ye? It is in my adept opinion that you are afflicted with some manner of pox, and thus I shall invoke the rite of medical treatment under duress and arrange for a complementary medical consultation with Doctor Quercus. No doubt my altruism is to your chagrin, since you wish to brand Quercus and his acolytes as a throng of the unhinged, but within time your dubious attributes shall be cleansed and you will be reborn and reinvigorated once more.
✟Seaside Marauder✟ 14. aug. kl. 22.50 
Halt, loathsome lout, are you dare purporting that Quercus bears a malady of the mind? A derelict ailment that threatens the very fabric of his psyche? By my troth and Vraccas above, I will exhort with much felicity that your delusional assertions are wholly incorrect! Why, I have known Quercus for many years, and I can confidently attest that he bears no genuine malaise of the mind, and is merely a renowned medical practitioner, who dabbles in arts of mystique and intrigue that are likely inexplicable to banal, bog ridden fiends such as yourself.
severe mental illness