GENERAL PIGNOUF

Back for real this time...

No pain no gain as they say As for Rook syndical attitude, it's always easier to hide behind a fake persona rather than face your emotions, but I'm sure someone will help him with that

Huxley’s gaze snapped to the man he hadn’t noticed. His greying hair marked him past the midpoint of life, yet he wore a perfectly tailored marine-blue three-piece suit that revealed a fit physique beneath the fabric. A small brooch; intricate, almost geometric, pinned his left lapel. Charlemagne gently flapped his wings, piercing eyes fixed on Huxley. The vulture nudged Ron’s face with his beak, clearly demanding something. “Come on, give him what he wants. He hasn’t had much time to scave

Constantine returned to the great throne beneath the dome of Hagia Sophia and sat heavily, the crown still cold upon his brow. He handed the blood-streaked sword back to the silent Varangian who had lent it; the man took it without a word and resumed his post. The ancient rites were far from finished.First came the senators in their crimson robes, kneeling one by one to kiss the imperial boot. Then the Megas Doux, Grand Admiral of what remained of the fleet, approached with measured steps, his s

I'm French, hating the Germans is basically a national duty. Talking about Odyssey and kingdom of heaven, of course they work when you look at the cast and the production values. But I maintain some eras and regions are more enticing to studios, and I'm not sure this one is. It's right in between the middle ages and the late renaissance that are vastly more familiar to audiences, not to mention 90% of people are not even aware the eastern side of the empire persisted to 1453. But then again maybe I'm to harsh and people are more open minded than I think. As for the female heroine, I think it's far from a necessity. maybe I'm still stuck twenty years ago when movies like Lord of the rings did it without having any kind of female main character, but for some reason nowadays it's considered sexist to have this kind of movie without a strong female lead, witch I think bullshit.

Dude I hate the "Byzantium" term, let's just call if for what it was; the Eastern Roman Empire and not how German scholars did to legitimate their fake empire (yes I'm an HRE hater). Also I don't think there would be any audience for a movie like this, normies just don't have the same investment towards the the period, especially in this region of the world, witch is a shame if you ask me. And on a side note, this scene is actually extremely unrealistic for the time period, but I'm just as much a fan of Napoleon as I am of the Roman Empire, I just couldn't help myself.

The sun hung low over Constantinople, casting a haze onto the ancient walls of the city. Today, the air thrummed with a fragile hope, the throne stood vacant after the death of Emperor John VIII Palaiologos, and his brother Constantine, regent of the state, had been summoned to ascend as Constantine XI. The streets leading to the Hagia Sophia were alive with thousands of citizens, their faces etched with a mix of fervor and aprehention. Merchants from Genoa and Venice mingled with Greek scholars

Apparently I'm forbidden to do anything physical involving my arm for the next three months, I was supposed to go on my first deployment at sea next month, I'm pissed.

Huxley unpacked the clothes from the bag with more difficulty than he’d foreseen. Having only one usable hand; something he’d forgotten to account for, made him unsure if he could manage to dress himself. He smiled when he realized the outfit matched almost perfectly what Rook had worn both times he’d seen him: cargo pants, a compression shirt, and a hoodie, all black, of course. The lack of color suited his new acquaintance’s personality, and Huxley was more than happy; rich, colorful attire wa

Oh that, yes, at least the palailogos did, i believe it was reintroduced around the 13th or 14th century.

C to the shield ?

Constantine stood alone in the dark crypt, his eyes hollow, staring into nothingness. Before him, on a stone pedestal, lay the lifeless form of Harald Haraldson, the former Captain of the Varangian Guard. His armor encased his body, his two axes placed in his arms, cold hands gripping their shafts. The cleaned wound across his throat was still gruesomely visible, despite being stitched with golden thread. He looked peaceful, eyes closed, makeup giving his skin a lifelike hue. But no matter how h

He won't be fighting any demon soon tho, that whole spiritual stuff takes time to learn.

I learnt from my mistakes, the first few chapters of my other story were very rough.

Thanks, that one escaped my (questionable) vigilance !

“Not doing too good, I see,” Rook said, his grin almost too cheerful as he entered the room. Huxley’s expression bordered on terror as his gaze flicked frantically between the bird on the windowsill and Rook. “Sorry about him. He tends to be a bit dumb in that form,” Rook said, his smile unwavering. “For the love of God, will you shapeshift already?” he added, turning to Charlemagne. The vulture tilted its head as if understanding the command, then leaped from the window. In a swi

“I’m terribly sorry for the mess, Regent,” Stefan said, frantically clearing piles of papers scattered nearly everywhere in the room. Constantine watched with a small grin. “I truly don’t understand how you don’t lose yourself in all this, young man.” Stefan stumbled about, focusing on a stack of books piled on one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing. The regent sat, still observing his councilor, his impatience growing with every paper St

The truck rumbled through the winding road as the two hunters drew closer to their target. A slight tug of unease stirred in their guts; the sudden change of plan had cast a shadow of uncertainty over their mission. Acting quickly without a solid strategy was dangerous, especially when confronting such a creature. But with no other choice, they pressed on. Neutralizing the threat before the woods swarmed with cops was essential. François veered the vehicle onto a dirt path trailing alongside the

Let's hope he's sent away before he causes irreparable damage.

“Come on, Démétrios, for the fifth time, your arm isn’t high enough,” Constantine said, frustration seeping through his voice. Démétrios’s shoulders slumped. He was trying his best but couldn’t get the angle of his elbow right as he pulled the bowstring. “Sorry, Uncle,” he mumbled. Constantine moved behind his nephew, gently guiding his arm as the boy drew the string. “Now, hold your breath and release when you’re ready.” Démétrios let go, and the arrow soared through the air, striking

Nah, too soft of a death really. The De Ceremoniis is indeed a fascinating book to read, if only a bit hard to digest.

Patriarch Scholarios stood over the bed where the late Emperor John VIII lay lifeless, his white and gold sakkos gleaming in the shadowed imperial chambers of the palace. The air was thick with incense, dispersed by the rhythmic swinging of censers in the hands of numerous priests. Scholarios’ voice resonated through the room as he recited psalms over John’s still form. At his side stood the Bishop of Constantinople, adorned in voluminous black robes, hands clasped in prayer. Their voices mingle

“This is getting ridiculous, that asshole is becoming problematic,” Old John said as he signed a paper, letting slip a rare swear that betrayed how his lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. The palace had been engulfed in a violent storm for the past four days, ever since the emperor's death and the regent's little accident. The master of coin had to play a very delicate game of balancing acts. With Constantine in a coma and as the senior member of the council, he was responsible fo

I'm sure Theodore is a reasonable man.

With a snap of the replica’s fingers, Constantine’s eyes flicked open. He gasped, drawing air into his lungs as sweat dripped down his face. Propping himself up on his elbows, he glanced around the familiar room, warmed by the crackling fireplace. He was alone. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he placed his feet on the floor, preparing to stand when a sharp pain in his stomach stopped him, a gnawing reminder of the hunger gripping his body. He let out a low growl and stood up, his leg