AUDENTES FORTUNA IUVAT.

𝖙𝖍𝖊‎ ‎ 𝖘𝖚𝖓 ‎ —‎ ‎ 𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌‎ ‎ 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊.

[pirkstein-archive]

THE PRINCE WITH THE SWIFT WARNING. INDEPENDENT & PRIVATE PORTRAYAL OF SIR HANS CAPON OF PIRKSTEIN FROM THE KINGDOM COME SERIES BY WARHORSE WITH A SECONDARY FOCUS IN HISTORICAL FANTASY SUCH AS ARTHURIAN LEGEND & CZECH MYTHOLOGY. CANON DIVERGENT PORTRAYAL AS CRAFTED & CHRONICLED BY SOLEIL. A STUDY IN: THE YOUNG LORD WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD ON HIS SHOULDERS, SCREAMING BIRDS IN GILDED CAGES SOUNDING AN AWFUL LOT LIKE SINGING. MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. 21+ ONLY.

ㅤCOMPANIONS. BEASTBURDENED BHAAL1ST BYBEAR CHIVALRIK ㅤCRAGSNOW JOYOUSDEFUNCT LENZIMANOT MOONSYMBOLS MUUTOS ㅤPAWNEDPRINCE PUTREFACEREM RITTERLICH SPOILSOVWAR ㅤVIGILANT - CLERIC ZOUIN.

ㅤ AUDENTES FORTUNA IUVAT. 𝖎. LAWS 𝖎𝖎. PROFILE 𝖎𝖎𝖎. PROMPTS 𝖎𝖛. ERIK 𝖛. SIDEBLOG

ㅤESTABLISHED. FEBRUARY 2025 ©

[pirkstein-archive]

still needs a tiny bit more work but i've moved blogs! same url as always

[pirkstein-archive]

still needs a tiny bit more work but i've moved blogs! same url as always

[pirkstein-archive]

may come back to hans and if i do i WILL be remaking (again) because i have gone through like two different faceclaims (and will be introducing a new one rip) and many different styles of formatting my posts therefore it is MESSY here but love u all and hope you're doing well <3

[azvhaalk]

venison

[nanafant]

Poor Birdy

[kobylas]

Hm. You'd better hope His Lordship hasn't taken it badly.

↳ I hope he has.

[4educan]

but  i  have  saved  nothing  by  this  sacrifice:  i  sent  my  only  child  into  an  uncertain  exile.  know  that  whatever  you  do  now,  you  bear  all  the  honor  and  pride  of  house  aeducan.  --  a  note  from  late  king  endrin  aeducan  to  his  only  daughter.

#𝟒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐍. INDEPENDENT  &  SELECTIVE  ROLEPLAY  BLOG  FOR  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐅  𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄  𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍  OF  DRAGON   AGE.  ADORED  BY  HAN.  21+.

[pirkstein-archive]

ㅤRE: STARTER CALL, FOR ALAN. ㅤCC: @emilesmuseassembly.

IT'S WHILST STROLLING WITH AETHON BY THE RIVER SASAU THAT HANS NOTICES THE MAN: By the water's edge, blanched nigh waxen from having drowned. Dead, the man may be, hair the color of ink haloing the blue, but not bloated, and wan countenance of a corpse. Slowed by Hans from a trot into a whisper of a walk, Aethon swashes through the shallow waters of the shore 'til there the dead man is, mere centimeters from where Hans sits aside a now whickering Aethon, who Capon soothes with a petting, patting hand to a gray and white mane. "It's all right." He sighs, eyebrows pinched into a wince. "Christ. The sorry bastard—" The sorry bastard who's now sitting up and shouting, scaring a flock of birds into flight, scaring Hans into shouting, too, and Aethon into rearing. A startled Hans loses Aethon's reins and falls hard into the shallows and onto his back with unceremonious swearing and a plashing, pathetic thud. Fortunately, though, Aethon's hooves strike neither Hans nor the flailing, frightened Lazarus, nor does Hans's head strike a nearby rock protruding from the water. "It's all right! It's all right!" Hans shouts, sitting and then standing, although with some difficulty, disoriented and with a sodden tunic and hose; waterlogged boots, too, that squelch with Hans's steps. "You — You, ah, almost drowned, I reckon, but you're all right! I'll — I'll ride you into town, aye?"

[catmask-yaps]

The early bird

or Hans Capon, ready for a day of hunting.

[ptacek]

In an Arthurian setting, Hans's ancestry follows that of Libuše, who will be a stand in for Eliška, and Přemysl and the seven Bohemian mythical princes as documented in Chronica Boemorum: Hans is the great grandchild of Eliška (Libuše) and Přemysl (Capon), the grandchild of the first prince Čeněk (Nezamysl), and the child of the second prince Jeschke (Mnata). The third prince is Vojen, Mnata's son, who I reckon would be Hans, though I'll spell the name as Vojan (pronounced voy-yahn) for the Hans / Jan diminutive. And as Vojen's son is Vnislav and Vnislav is the described as the fourth prince, Vnislav would then be Hynce. And as Hynce has a daughter named Marketa, the line then continues through her husband Victor's name (Křesomysl), and then through their son Neklan (though they also have a daughter, and only a daughter in canon, by the name of Johanna.) Since Hanush isn't in the line of succession, as it passes from first born son to first born son and Hanush is the youngest child and the second born son of Čeněk (Nezamysl), Hanush is, well, Hanush, though Hanush still stands as Regent Prince / Regent Lord as Jeschke (Mnata) dies in Hans's youth. The story follows canon, with Hans instead the Prince of Pirkstein and Rattay, except Hans flees to Prydain and Camelot to become a knight in King Arthur's court as Sir Vojan, or Sir Hans / Sir Jan, seeking a life of adventure and chivalry rather than of politics and princehood. In the canon Arthurian timeline, Hans's son is still sired by Henry, either a Bohemian commoner or a Prydain commoner who, too, sought to serve King Arthur — think along the lines of Lancelot and Galehaut. Relationship permitting, though, in another timeline, Hynce is the son of Hans and someone else, but Hynce remains an important and necessary addition to the story, a la Lancelot and Galahad.

[thereigning-lorelai]

The point is, I was wrong. And I love you so, so much. And I can’t wait to see who you become, where you’ll go, what you’ll do.

[rosieofcorona]

covenants (2026)

[astraldestiny]

❝ I don't know where to go from here. But I know Veth is dead. ❞

indie fantasy multi muse featuring Nott the Brave / Veth Brenatto from Critical Role's Second Campaign, written by Hope

[pirkstein-archive]

ㅤQ. WHAT ENTERS THE ROOM BEFORE YOU DO?

THE HUMOR. You arrive sideways. A half-smile. A well-timed comment. An ease that curves the energy of the room just enough to make it livable. You don’t force attention, you invite it, lightly. Humor is how you test the ground. How you check for safety. How you step into spaces without startling yourself. People think it’s effortless. It’s not. It’s perceptive. Strategic. Kind. And when you drop the humor — when your voice steadies and the joke doesn’t come — people listen. Because they know now: this matters. ㅤOR THE EXPECTATIONS. You arrive already reading the room. Who needs reassurance. Who expects competence. Who is quietly hoping you’ll fill a gap they won’t name. You adapt instinctively, almost reflexively — sliding into what’s required before anyone asks. People feel understood by you. Seen. Held. Sometimes too quickly. They mistake your attunement for availability, your flexibility for obligation. The work here is remembering that you are allowed to enter without performing. That your presence does not have to be useful to be valid. ㅤTAGGED BY. @zaldarias ! ㅤTAGGING. @joyousdefunct, @7-inchez, @vhenann, @orphicmoth, ㅤ@synskalitzuv, @gryffn, AND YOU !

[gryffn]

this man is blunt. or more like stupidly bold, tongue tied in nervous knots as he stumbles from thought to thought. lazare can hear the flutter of his heartbeat and quickened pace of his breathing, and notices the way he swallows unconsciously around a dry mouth. the witcher is sure that if he were to check hans's hands, he would find his palms clammy.

and though he has little intention to answer much of what hans has to say, lazare is almost impressed by his willingness to ask at all, despite the subtle nudge that it took. bored curiosity be damned.

"you must know of the law of surprise." a statement, no question. he reaches for his tankard and draws another sip of ale. his last. emptied, lazare keeps hold of the drinkware as he stands and makes his way through the tavern to the bar, where he sets both the tankard and payment for what he had drank. in silent expectation for hans to follow—he makes no gesture, though has no doubt he will—the griffin makes his exit from the tavern into the mild evening.

[pirkstein-archive]

THE LAW OF SURPRISE MUST BE THE LAW OF CONSCRIPTION, witchers recruiting children to become their wards. And perhaps most witchermen do recruit children for such a purpose: to become their wards, their children, to pass a dying art — if the wolf school had been slaughtered and massacred, no witcher school nor witcher is safe — onto a new age. But it would be as foolish to believe most witchmen are altruist as it would be to believe most witchmen are fiends. "I ... think I know of it, in passing." Though the Lord of Pirkstein's voice trails off as the witcher stands and strolls to the barkeep, where the tankard and payment in coin are set 'pon the counter. Hans stammers, "Do you want me to—?" It was an abrupt end to the conversation, so surely the witcher must want him to follow. That's what he tells himself, that is, as he stands, hands to the barkeep coin, and follows the vedymin into the evening, where the sun's near vanished and the cold of a spring night's soon to set in. And as if to announce his presence, as if the witcher is unaware of his presence, he clears his throat. "I didn't know if you wanted me to—" He shakes his head. "—Never mind. If you're here, then, and if you're a monster slayer, does that mean there's something here?"

[pirkstein-archive]

STARTER CALL. i receive a ♡ on this post, you receive a starter that will ideally be the start of a long, involved thread.