Bood Of Carthage (RAFs)

Blood Of Carthage
	Sovereign:	αҽɾყɳ σɳყx ƈαɾƚԋαɠҽ (aeryn.starchild)
	Co-Sovereign:	Not Assigned
	Ambassador:
	Proxy:	Sσρԋια Cαɾƚԋαɠҽ (scarlettthesecond)
	Scribe:	ღۣۜζ͜͡Fҽяαʟ ίᴎđίяα ʟợνίαtαя彡 (strange.spellhunter)
Political Faction:	Renegade Advocacy Faction - RAF

History:

A safe haven for the lost and broken. Here, we find strength in unity and solace in our shared journey. We are a family bound not by blood, but by the trials we endure and the hope we foster. In our embrace, you will find a place to heal, to grow, and to rise anew.

From blood we are born, and from ashes we rise, Stripped of our mortal coil, we return to the desolate earth, Living in eternal darkness, where shadows whisper lies, Through death, we embrace new and old family, rebirth.

In the silent void, where the living dare not tread, We find solace in the cold, where the forgotten dwell, Through death, we embrace creation, where the light has fled, Always remember, “Death is but the beginning,” a tale to tell.

In the abyss, we find our truth, our eternal night, Where the stars no longer shine, and the sun has set, We dance with specters, in the absence of light, For in death, we are free, from life’s cruel debt.

Greater Houses of Blood Of Carthage Clan

Cult of Carthage

Cult of Carthage
	Princeps:	Aҽɾყɳ Vҽʂρҽɾαҽ Cαɾƚԋαɠҽ (aeryn.starchild)
	Delegate:	Sσρԋια Cαɾƚԋαɠҽ (scarlettthesecond)
	Liaison:	ღۣۜζ͜͡Fҽяαʟ ίᴎđίяα ʟợνίαtαя彡 (strange.spellhunter)
	History:	TBA

Đяҽαđtђợяᴎ

Đяҽαđtђợяᴎ
	Princeps:	ღۣۜζ͜͡Fҽяαʟ ίᴎđίяα ʟợνίαtαя彡 (strange.spellhunter)
	Delegate:	Mαʟρhαs Aɱbяợsίʊs ʟợνίαtαя (prince.varela)
	Liaison:	Ψ Lιαм Sαcαrvεr ʟợνίαtαя Ψ (ravin66)
	History:	Feral Indira, spirit free, wandered skies and endless sea. Her heart ablaze with untamed fire, a soul unbound to soar higher. But darkened hands wove fate’s cruel thread, and into vampiric chains she was led. Against her will, her form was changed, her freedom lost, her life estranged. A Sire’s grip, oppressive, tight, yet she trained him in the night. North rode upon her rising name, then turned his back—it was a game. She vouched for him, she made him stand, he thrived beneath her guiding hand. But when the time for truth drew near, he cast aside his mask sincere. Naïve, she sought the best in all, believing change could heed her call. Yet time revealed the cruelest fate—not all can rise, not all will wait. Some take, then turn with blade in hand, leaving debts in broken sand. Invisible, yet indispensable, she toiled, her efforts used, expendable. Young voices stilled, their futures sold, by those in power, ruthless, cold. She penned a motion, bold and fair, to end the pain too many bear. "Turn and Burn," she named the plea, a hope to set the young ones free. Support was gathered, votes in hand, from outcast groups across the land. Yet courts denied her rightful claim, her ex-Sovereign blocking change. Una stood against her fight, to keep things buried, out of sight. Betrayed by one she thought was just, her dreams lay crumbling into dust. To please the cruel, she bore the blame, for Plasma’s cold, oppressive reign. For North and those who drained the weak, she stood their target, silent, oblique. She saw the path, she knew the cost, yet never thought that she’d be lost. Her trust was placed in hands untrue, still, she believed they’d shift their view. From agony, something new arose—then reborn, her power exposed. Eight days into her newfound might, she challenged darkness in the night. A foe emerged, of coward’s way, a tyrant old, yet bound to fray. She struck him down, corruption slain, and broke at last the binding chain. No longer bound by others’ fears, she shed her doubts, released her tears. Embracing strength long held inside, her fate, her own—none else decide. In shadows deep, a secret lay, a twin-born rule held at bay. Vindicta and Loviatar bound, two sisters forged on common ground. An act of love, she formed her clan, to grow her companion’s cherished plan. Yet not respected as a guide, she worked with heart and burning pride. Each milestone met, each goal achieved, fed whispers thick with slight and greed. Zo and Sephi, soft and low, spoke words disguised as friend, not foe. "You’re no leader," they declared, yet stole the fruits of all she shared. Steeped in doubt and silent chains, they sought to keep her bound, restrained. But loyal friends stood by her side, their steadfast trust she could not hide. With their strength, she made her stand, to heal herself and free her hand. She tore Loviatar from its twin, a bold new chapter to begin. Leaving those who lacked in faith, who took her gifts, then left in wraith. As they vanished, lost from sight, something greater rose in might. Yet still she stood, unbroken, strong, a gentle heartwhere the lost belong. Loviatar’s memory remained in keep, yet new roots grew where shadows creep. Within Carthage, a house took form, a refuge from the bitter storm. No titled lords, no cruel embrace, but weary souls in need of grace. Aeryn, steadfast by her side, a beacon where the lost reside. "Not all warriors wear a crown, not all leaders tear you down." She built for them a sacred space, a home for those time would erase. No golden halls, no throne of might, yet still she rose against the fight. No court could make her heed their call, no crown could make her stand more tall. For battles waged not just with blade, but in the change the fearless made. Where others cowered, bound by chains, she stood defiant through the flames. And so her tale, in whispers spread, a leader forged where angels bled. Not born of power, nor of grace, but of the ones time would erase. She fought for those who had no voice, she stood when fate left them no choice. For those cast out, for those ignored, she raised the House of Dreadthorn. The highborn sneered, the titled swore, yet still she rose, and stood once more. Her house would grow, her will remain, no tyrant’s wrath could strike in vain. Through storm and fire, loss and pain, her spirit stands—she takes the reins. The lost shall rise, their fears allayed, for she will fight beyond the grave. This history, told far and wide, of Feral Indira’s steadfast stride. From chains to wings, she found her way—an Unyielding Matriarch to this day. Her legacy, a guiding star, for those forgotten, near and far. And in the halls where lost ones roam, they find new life—within her home.