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  3. Fishbref saluted his kinsman as he set sail, hoping that one day he would return.
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  5. Freja


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  6. D A N N Y


    Congratulations, you’ve been accepted! Welcome to Lord of the Craft! Now that you’re accepted, you will spawn in Cloud Temple as a player and be able to interact with the world around you. If you need any help, you can message me in game by doing /msg mkDanny or if I’m not online, you can find me on Discord D A N N Y#2022. Lastly, if you need any guidance in-game, and I am not around, please do... /creq [message] … along with a message as to what you need, and another Community Team Member will get to you as soon as possible! After reading the below information and logging into LotC, I highly recommend sending this in chat so a Community Team Member can help you out: /creq I have just been accepted and would like a Wilven Monk! I highly recommend you join the LotC Discord using the invite link below, and please look through the New Player Guide! → https://discord.gg/7sTjWYX → Lastly, For guides, tutorials, and how to request help from a CT member, please head to the New Player Hub found here: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/193743-new-player-hub/ In addition, I recommend taking a look at our Settlement Guides. Below, I’ve linked the settlements you may be interested in based on your character’s race. → https://wiki.lordofthecraft.net/index.php?title=Nations_and_Major_Charters If you aren’t interested in any of those, take a look at our Settlement Guide Hub! → https://wiki.lordofthecraft.net/index.php?title=Settlement_Guides
  7. Ser Reinhardt Barclay wipes away a tear from his cheek as he read the invitation “He grew up so fast, Ich can remember the day he was born, ich guess time really does fly..”
  8. The sour Prince of Comoară frowns at his wayward child's choice of name. "First she steals our magic and now she's plagiarising Hazmeză poetry! When will it end?!"
  9. Dante begins to cough, a tiding of new winds did spring upon him - sending another cursed chill down his spine on the frigid morn.
  10. "Fake news." commented a meat-faced Lector as he read the missive. He looked to a hefty document titled the TSUTENKAKU REPORT which asserted that it was not the Lich who transported Dobrov, but was instead the result of a deal made with evil vampires! Perhaps he would publish it early...
  11. A Bear slings her yew-bow over her shoulder and departs from the southern woodlands. "A great start, halfling lliran," Miven says to herself as she made the trek to Honeyhill.
  12. An Illatian of anomalous repute allows his orbs to trace over the missive, a foul revelation indeed which had reached him at this misfortunate hour - with this he raised the horrid cigarette he'd been chewing upon for several minutes and allowed a series of smoke and ash to release from his maw and fall to the wood. "You will 'a not make a fool of me, falsi altoparlanti." Should he have spoken to only one of the aforementioned parties, his opinion would be clear- but no, he had the sense to hear them both, and now all that remained was a state of conflicting minds deep with himself. "No, No. . . It wouldn't be fair to jump to a' conclusion boy." He lectured. And with that, he began to put quill to parchment and draft.
  13. Kujo

    House Luceafăru

    Elimar exhaled a sigh of relief, savoring this tranquil moment he knew would not last.
  14. A Leal Wyrmstalker would frown, soon setting off in shifting guise - for she had a couple to check up on, and hunts to prosecute anon...
  15. The Moth; Sigil of House Luceafăru [Art by me] A public declaration is made from the Barony of Woldzmir. . . –Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ– Naught but silence has been had from Woldzmir, since the tearing away of the castle from Dobrov. Many believed the Kremlin to have been destroyed, with the Baroness and her children in it; plotters sought to make conspiracies and hateful accusations against the Baroness for meddling in dark magics; while some believed the castle’s supposed sundering to be a miracle from God acting against the Anathema. Woldzmir’s transformation was done by the hands of the late Count of Dobrov, the Lich, Ostromir Carrion-Tuvyic in retaliation to Baroness Moliana’s refusal to serve him. His intent was to tear the castle from her, yet his ritual to kickoff his plan was disrupted. Woldzmir was still torn from the earth, leaving a massive crater in its wake, but it was not destroyed. Be it by chance or a miracle, Woldzmir was teleported and remains intact. Two years were taken to recover from the incident, and to stand prepared in case Ostromir would make another attempt upon the castle or family within; yet only silence has been received. With much discussion, we deem it safe to speak out on these events at last, and to denounce the name of Carrion-Tuvyic due to the countless acts of sin committed by Ostromir. No longer is Woldzmir held by Tuvyics; nor shall Her Ladyship cling to the name of Carrion, seeing as half of humanity would have equal claim to such a name of a bygone era, much like how the name of Horen is regarded. We take this transition as a sign of new beginnings and wish to wash our hands of the stigma that follows the name of Carrion-Tuvyic. It is something that comes to every House in time, and remains as a desire found in most men who do not wish for the successes and failures of their ancestors to be what guides their future. A new path must sometimes be paved, do not be afraid to be the one to make that first step onto it. House Luceafăru is thus made through the line of Anna Elizaveta Viorel Codrin Tuvyic is hereby known as Viorel Codrin Luceafăru Viorel’s legitimate offspring shall bear the name Luceafăru Sorina Lorelei Tuvyic is hereby known as Sorina Lorelei Luceafăru If married matrilineally, Sorina’s legitimate offspring shall bear the name Luceafăru Signed, Elimar Koen Luceafăru Her Ladyship, Anna “Moliana” Elizaveta Luceafăru, Baroness of Woldzmir
  16. [Art by Isabella Mazanti] The following is a public letter scattered across the land of Almaris It begins as an ordinary paper, mundane and likely to be the rambling of some random fool in the continent; however, something gnaws at you to read further. . . –Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ– Home. It is defined as a place familiar to us, a place that we are meant to be, or perhaps it isn’t a place at all. Home could be found in friends, family, or within bonds found most unlikely. There are people we meet in our lives, in which we discover through our conversation that their personality is like a set of rooms in which we already know and find home within. A flutter is felt within our hearts as we enter into momentous environments to our souls, a place we are tied to. There are places that we have never been where we already belong. I found this in Woldzmir, the castle of Dobrov. A home in which I was swept away from in my infant years; stolen in the night by dark forces. I had known little of what my fate was meant to be, if I would have been sold off, smothered, or sacrificed in a dark ritual. Whatever dark plan was concocted, it was disrupted when I was discovered and rescued by my foster family. Thus, I was kept and raised with the traditions of a scholarly Vasoyevi and for sixteen years I lived my life in ignorance of what my true identity was. When I came to know my origins, life changed quickly. I reunited with my family in the Empire, though chose not to cast aside my roots with the Vasoyevi. Despite the rapid and ever changing chaos around me, I would not let the truth of my identity warp the person I was already raised to be; I had come to respect the meaning of principles well in this period. Once the title of Woldzmir and the Kremlin of Dobrov was restored to me, little peace was had within my home. Long before I had even come to know of my ties to the County, rumors of the oddities that surrounded it were something I was already well familiar with. I would have dismissed such tales quickly, had it not been for the dozens of disturbing incidents within the walls and woodlands surrounding the castle and the eventual truth of my grandfather’s nature revealed to me. Ostromir Carrion-Tuvyic, The late Count of Dobrov, was known as a scholar and alchemist, with a great influence over the Imperial Court. An air of mystery clung to him, and followed him in death. Such would be expected, perhaps, given the various wonders and possibilities achievable through the use of the Material Alphabet in alchemy. I describe it as the Language of Creation, for its symbols can be found, hidden, in all things. I regard it as God’s gift to the descendants, so that we may explore His world more efficiently and make beauty with His tools. It is a tool, much like a shovel is one in the hands of a gardener. Treasure could be dug up, seeds sown, saplings planted, a body may be buried with it, or it can be used as an informal weapon; An alchemist’s tools are used for growth and nurturing, or for pushing the boundaries of our science to encounter new discoveries. Many wonders could be achieved by the virtuous, and many atrocities by the cruel. On the Nature of Ostromir. . . Ostromir Carrion-Tuvyic was no virtuous man. He was selfish in his pursuit for power through use of the Material Alphabet and dabbled in darker practices such as Necromancy to strengthen his abilities and expand his findings, even managing to achieve immortality in undeath. I have paid witness to the effects of his malignant spells and how he manipulates the energy of life, as a false mimicry of God’s might. Further findings have been acquired through the diligent investigating of the Lectors of Owyn. I had believed him to have vanished from society for good, but I was mistaken. Hints of the presence of Ostromir and his corrupted son, the removed Vladislav Carrion-Tuvyic, continued lurking within Woldzmir and the forests surrounding it. A foul creature stalks the woods, mimicking voices of people familiar to potential victims in hopes of luring them away from the safety of the hamlet and roads. Efforts have been made on my part to thwart the fiend from the woodlands, yet it remains elusive and continues to take lives of those unaware of its lurking threat. I think of it to be a horrendous spawn of Necromancy, sent out to collect sacrifices; signs of wicked intruders had been found within the crawl spaces around the castle, movement even being heard in the small hours of the night, scratches and bootprints found where no animal may leave them. Cackling echoes in the halls, and eyeslits have been discovered in the older paintings; acts had even been committed, through the terrorizing of Kremlin guests during social gatherings: the dropping of severed eyeballs over their heads; dark strangers have approached the castle in search of my undead grandfather and accursed relics. One of the most recent incidents is when Ostromir finally revealed himself. He first came to me in disguise, during Imperial Court and attempted to insert his influence over my thoughts through his foul sorcery. I demanded he confront me with honor so that I may finally see what monster my grandfather had become. He ordered me to leave the throne room and I obeyed - though not before warning my husband of the incident. Elimar watched over me, where we encountered Fyodor Carrion-Tuvyic. Within his grasp was a human skull, which was the source of that wicked voice invading my mind. Again, Ostromir demanded that I succumb to him and accept his skull that Fyodor ushered for me to take. Yet I refused, for I knew if I were to brush my fingers against the Lich’s bone I would risk corruption myself. Ostromir was enraged and promised that I would regret my foolishness in denying his might. Fyodor then carried the wretched husk of my grandfather away before passersby would begin to notice. In the following months, my uncle Fyodor became more absent around the castle and the ominous events only increased by the day. My grandfather was hellbent on making me bend my knee to him, but I would not falter. I remained true to my principles and duties as a Peer of the Empire, to advise the Imperial Throne during these turbulent years - which only seemed to infuriate my undead grandfather more. He made this known to me, coming to Woldzmir in the days following the Crown’s banishment of myself. A final request was made for me to succumb to his will and serve him, promising me protection against those that would see my destruction. Again, I refused him. And in return, Ostromir promised me that he would rip the very foundations of Woldzmir away from me and have my family sacrificed to a being he described only as The Palebeast. On the Nature of Woldzmir. . . That very night, a gathering formed before the castle. The group was comprised of cloaked men, with hoods that obscured their faces in an unnatural shadow despite the light of the lanterns shining on them; whatever flesh of theirs that I caught a glimpse of was deathly pale. Ostromir headed them, his features like a man’s skin thinly wrapped over a skull with a perpetual look of malice in his eyes. He had caught sight of me on the battlements and I thought I might have seen him grin, before turning to draw shapes into the soil. I felt my heart sink and I bolted to gather my family within the castle. My cause for panic was the familiarity of my grandfather’s display in front of the Kremlin; he was conducting a ritual of the Blood Arts - an ancient and near-forgotten power capable of committing cataclysmic atrocities, should its power fall into the wrong hands. How I had come to recognize this is due to previous encounters in my travels and studies, where I had managed to witness and hear of how these sort of rituals are conducted. Instead of fleeing, I chose to make a final stand against the dark creatures that would try to forcefully tear my home away from me. I knew how delicate and precise their ritual was meant to be, I knew how fickle their power was and sought hope on its possible failure. Ostromir and his flock stood in a circle with their bloodied hands joined. They murmured a low incantation which encouraged a crimson glow to rise up from the ritual circle at their feet, with flickers of bright red sparks of energy dancing within. I hardly recall having loaded the crossbow and aiming upon the warlocks. My finger pressed the trigger and I heard the whistle of the bolt, before a deafening peal of thunder consumed me. A bright flash of red was followed by a still and cold darkness. My body felt numb for many moments before another flash of energy blinded and deafened me, and then a rush of cold air swept over me and I collided into snow. It took me a moment to gather my senses, when I realized I stood in the heart of a snowy tundra. I thought myself stranded, meant to die alone and be lost to those snowy wastes, but a familiar sight stood before me: The castle of Woldzmir. My aim must have been true, in some sense, to have disrupted my grandfather’s plan. In his ritual’s failure, the castle was still ripped away – with me in it – and brought to a random space on the continent. I knew myself to still be in Almaris once dawn arrived, and the star of the morning, Luceafăru, showed itself to me in the sky. A blessing made known. Signed, Her Ladyship, Anna “Moliana” Elizaveta Luceafăru, Baroness of Woldzmir Elimar Koen Luceafăru
  17. "Guess they didnt like their invite for tea " the 11 year old elf from Elvenese / Elysium muses
  18. Being a paleknight was one of the best times in LOTC, glad to see it coming back. Hope it gets accepted! Great job! +1
  19. A cynical cripple inspects the missive, mouth drawn into a saddened frown. "And then they wonder why Haelun'or dislikes outsiders."
  20. Jihnyny

    An Orc in the sea

    Jih'n'Raguk, and his Journey towards the sea. Jih'n'Raguk a simple red Uruk, living among the krughai, in the great Orc city of Iron'uzg or also known as Krugmar, had decided to sail towards the sea. Jih'n went to sleep one night in his comfortable home in the great orc warnation. As he slept, he also dreamt, and from that dream came a vision. A vision of high tides and infinite waters. A vision of colorful and wonderful fish, and a journey any being would love to partake in. But that was not the only thing Jih'n had seen. He had also seen a large figure, sailing into those dangerous and upredictable, wild waters. A small ship, large enough to be able to sail in, and small enough for one Orc or man to man it. And as the being sailed, Jih'n felt the passion and joy coming emitting from the being as it cheered, surfing through the monstrous waves. He had then seen a large wave, come up from behind him and as the wave swept over Jih'n, he woke up. His eyes full of curiosity and wonder. With no hesitation, he packed his bags, left a note attached to his home and then left the great nation, and headed towards the sea. To his vision, he came upon a ship stranded onto the shore. The ship would be untouched and it would resemble the figure he had seen in his dream. "Waoh," hed grunt. With barely any experience in sailing, Jih'n would get ready, putting a chicken onto the ship, some food and some water, and then pushed it into the sea, and as he got on, his chest would feel unusual, his body would make a smile, and Jih'n already knew it was what he wanted. Jih'n then sailed towards the sea. Unknowing what was to come and if he would survive this journey, the only thing he would know was that he would have absolute joy on it. and as the sea took something from Almaris, it gifted something to the land in return. im off to making a different persona leggo
  21. Please ST, accept this. It's for the good of the realm...
  22. Roylan G. Sirame gazed down upon the design that covered his arm. The almost glistening appearance of scales coiling around his arm, against the skin that bound around it, tail, and lithe form twisting and coiling against the presence of his entire being. The sting of the new marking of Ilmyumier artwork filling his being with purpose. The final light of the work crossing the arch of his shoulder with maw opened wide, and a bright light of its eye gazing towards him. "The first piece to ever cover my form...A beautiful piece. I wonder if Taynei’hiylu will gaze as kindly upon me as you do, little one?" A chuckle escaping his deep voice as he moved a finger and scritched the chin of the dragon on his body before he shook his head. Warmth escaping his lips as he carried on his day and let the arm rest.
  23. We're in the process of completely fixing mysticism so expect like 2-4 more posts like this
  24. Your theme songs are god tier! Pog lore as always, need to bring my paleknight back
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