[RK] ๖messerschmitt_eduard
Kvothe
 
 
“My name is Kvothe, pronounced nearly the same as "quothe." Names are important as they tell you a great deal about a person. I've had more names than anyone has a right to. The Adem call me Maedre. Which, depending on how it's spoken, can mean The Flame, The Thunder, or The Broken Tree.

"The Flame" is obvious if you've ever seen me. I have red hair, bright. If I had been born a couple of hundred years ago I would probably have been burned as a demon. I keep it short but it's unruly. When left to its own devices, it sticks up and makes me look as if I have been set afire.

"The Thunder" I attribute to a strong baritone and a great deal of stage training at an early age.

I've never thought of "The Broken Tree" as very significant. Although in retrospect, I suppose it could be considered at least partially prophetic.

My first mentor called me E'lir because I was clever and I knew it. My first real lover called me Dulator because she liked the sound of it. I have been called Shadicar, Lightfinger, and Six-String. I have been called Kvothe the Bloodless, Kvothe the Arcane, and Kvothe Kingkiller. I have earned those names. Bought and paid for them.

But I was brought up as Kvothe. My father once told me it meant "to know."

I have, of course, been called many other things. Most of them uncouth, although very few were unearned.

I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.

You may have heard of me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Gather round and listen well,
For I've a tale of tragedy to tell.
I sing of Subtle Shadow Spread
Across a Land, and of the man
Who turned his hand toward a purpose few could bear.
Fair Lanre: Stripped of wife, of life, of pride.
Still never from her purpose swayed.
Who fought the tide, and fell, and was betrayed."

- The Wise man's Fear, by Patrick Rothfuss

Death

I walk slowly around
Not making a single sound
Through and around the warm homes
Taking with me old and decrepit bones

I take the souls of the weak
And let the strong have sweet sleep
I take the souls of the sinners
And let the rest finish their dinners

I take the damned with me to hell
I let them know it’s not just a shell
They will feel twists of great pain
For all their evil and their shame

As for the angelic dead
They will never fear any dread
They’ll have halos and wings of gold and white
And never will they feel the eternal night

I am saviour but I am sin
I have no family or next of kin
I am here and I am there
And I will always be fair

I am the ever immortal one
I cannot change what I have done
This is the job I’ll forever do
And to me the world is a zoo

I am the messenger for all
My hierarchy will never fall
My rules are set in stone
And thus I am always alone

I saved the people from certain doom
I saved the stars, the sun and the moon
But the people would rather have me murdered
For all I have done I am burdened

I am a demon of the night
I am an angel of the light
I will shatter your dreams
And tear your life apart at the seams

I am the air you breathe
I am the blood that seethes
I am the pause between each breath
I am now and forever… death


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Kvothe
Four Doors of the Mind

“Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.”

Bast & Chronicler

“Chronicler shook his head and Bast gave a frustrated sigh. "How about plays? Have you seen The Ghost and the Goosegirl or The Ha'penny King?"
Chronicler frowned. "Is that the one where the king sells his crown to an orphan boy?"
Bast nodded. "And the boy becomes a better king than the original. The goosegirl dresses like a countess and everyone is stunned by her grace and charm." He hesitated, struggling to find the words he wanted. "You see, there's a fundamental connection between seeming and being. Every Fae child knows this, but you mortals never seem to see. We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be."
Chronicler relaxed a bit, sensing familiar ground. "That's basic psychology. You dress a beggar in fine clothes, people treat him like a noble, and he lives up to their expectations."
"That's only the smallest piece of it," Bast said. "The truth is deeper than that. It's..." Bast floundered for a moment. "It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story."
Frowning, Chronicler opened his mouth, but Bast held up a hand to stop him. "No, listen. I've got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll think you're sweet, but she won't believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding." Bast gave a grudging shrug. "And sometimes that's enough."
His eyes brightened. "But there's a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you..." Bast gestured excitedly. "Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn't seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chronicler snapped. "You're just spouting nonsense now."
"I'm spouting too much sense for you to understand," Bast said testily. "But you're close enough to see my point.”

[56e]AggofanCZ Dec 23, 2018 @ 5:41pm 
¤*¨¨*¤.¸¸ ...¸.¤*¨¨*¤.¸¸ ...¸.¤*¨¨*¤.¸¸ ...¸.¤*¨¨*\
\ 56e Regiment d'Infanterie de Ligne......\
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...\ ℳerry ℭhristmas & ℋappy 2019
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[RK] ๖messerschmitt_eduard Aug 31, 2018 @ 2:25pm 
and an average player, 100x worse than Ciiges, attention ♥♥♥♥♥ and egoistic ♥♥♥♥♥...
potesty Aug 31, 2018 @ 2:21pm 
Confirmed cheater and wallhacker.
DarkAlliance ♡ Brazil Jul 12, 2018 @ 2:58am 
My sweet messerschmitt friend ♡
warhammer Apr 7, 2018 @ 2:06pm 
♥♥♥♥
Seán Dec 12, 2017 @ 8:07am 
You know what my shirt is made from? Boyfriend material