Apologizes for the really short length and quality, I'm not very good at writing and very rusty - Titanium

A eldritch and occult rite conducted at the highest peak.

A dwarf, sent hurtling through the stars.

Passing by infinity in an instant, worlds consuming themselves.

landing, falling like a feather at the last moment.

Exploration, wandering of steppe and mountain.

A fortress, that of black iron peeking from the hills.

A gate, that of grand size, runes etched along its surface.

Passages walked, a vault found.

Both Gold and Dead in piles of great size.

Leaving, The accursed place left behind.

The occult repeated, the Dwarf sent hurtling back.

Home reached, A rest taken with deep reflection.

((All of the above symbols belong to the Material Alphabet, meaning that all Descendants native to the Material Plane would would have some inherent understanding of the meanings behind the symbols when perceiving them, despite any prior lack of affiliation with or study of the runic language. Those wishing to decode it IRP should start here))
 

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1st Year, Second Era,

My name is Ferek Frostbeard, and I have undertaken a survey of the southern deserts of Almaris. What initially began as a mere means of productively spending time mapping the wilds, I came to be fascinated by the geologic formations and ecological implications of the expansive sands. I came to several conclusions throughout my research and expeditions, of which I will list firstly, for the less patient of my readers:

Synopsis of Conclusions:

1) There was, at one time, a great inland lake that was home to many species of coral and aquatic flora.

2) Due to the skeletal structure of the coral still being present today, the climate shift from bountiful to barren was short, extreme, and recent. I suspect some violent magic was involved, but I am no wizard so I will not speculate on that point further

3) There are many shipwrecks constructed of the same dark wood, suggesting that the vessels were all built either from the same place or perhaps by the same culture

4) The great many skeletons seen surrounding the inland lake were, definitively, not aquatic. There are no skeletons or remains on the bed of the great lake, confirming the mega-fauna was at least terrestrial. An interesting side note, I have discovered no extraneous limbs attached or near the skeletons, possible suggesting these beasts were limbless, but I cannot claim that definitively. If I was able to secure funding for an excavation of one of these remains, I could answer that question conclusively.

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As stated above, I have undertaken a survey of the southern deserts of Almaris. I have sketched below a simple rendition of my travels...

The sketch above shows the great lake, with mountains of dried coral in the middle. Surrounding the coral formations are a number of shipwrecks. These vessels all seem to be made of the same dark wood, and be built of the same style. They vary in size from 20 - 30 meters in length, several could be larger but those in question were split in two and their respective halves are some distance away. The average depth of the bed of the great lake compared to its historical shoreline is anywhere between 40 - 50 meters of depth. The coral, interestingly enough, can be found at all depths of the lake. It is most concentrated, however, in the mountainous formations found in the center of the lake, as can be seen in the illustration above. I am vexed as to how dried coral formations survived the climate shift from a lake to a dried up desert, if the climate shift occurred centuries ago, the sands and aggressive environment of the desert would have withered away the coral skeletons, yet there they are. As before, I suspect some violent magic was involved with the desertification of the area, but I am no wizard, and as such will not speculate further on that matter.

The desert to the west and north of the lake is sparsely dotted with large trees, complemented with a great number of ancient skeletons. The bones of these mega-fauna are massive, the ribs and spine being the only bones shown above ground. The occasional skull can be found, as shown above. The specimen above is certainly my favorite find so far, the bones are in fantastic condition, and the teeth can still cut the unwary explorer.

The number of these skeletons is between ten and twenty ribcages with attached spines. I have yet to find a remain that has limbs, either attached or nearby. It seems possible to me that these missing limbs may yet be buried beneath the sands, I have not excavated a site yet. I severely doubt all of the skeletons seen throughout the desert were limbless like snakes, but I suppose time will tell.

Another note, some of the remains have a cursive script engraved upon them, namely the sites along the path to the Nation of Sutica. These markings could be prayers, warnings, or perhaps a testimony of some ancient people. Until a linguist takes an interest in these finds, I do not see an answer in the near future to this question.

Should anyone have any personal insights to the lands comprising the desert or the great lake, I would appreciate hearing from you. Send a bird to Ferek Frostbeard, or find me in my abode within the walls of Sutica. I intend to pen a follow-up report, and will continue to explore the wilds of these lands. I intend to uncover the calamity that befell this region, for I fear it may rear it's head again upon our own fragile kingdoms some day in the future.

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"The principle of give & take is simple: if you take from another player then you must give in return. If your roleplay is the equivalent of tossing free bread and clowning on royalty then you’re not really taking anything (unless you’re interrupting official affairs or a genuine story).

But let’s say you are taking something from the other player, for example minas or loot, what then? You don’t pay the other player in items—you provide them with a rich story and character development!

The frequent example that we run into is if your character stops and frisks someone on the road—then following up by killing them would murder any chance for genuine character development. "

-Telanir in Roleplay Quality Standards.

The demonization of bandits affecting player to player relationships

In just about every time period this server has gone through, bandits have always been commonly labelled as abrasive, insufferable, alongside the most popular portrayal being ‘toxic’. While the past has definitely shown that bandits can act in these ways to an extreme, it is not an accurate portrayal of how things are in recent times. In fact, the current community that bandits often find themselves in are often labelled with utmost hyperbole. Players on the server who have never been banditted before simply believe what they are told about the ‘demons of the road.’ So when they actually encounter said bandits, they take this false information given as fact and actively go against them and in some cases will be toxic themselves. We ask that players start formulating their own opinions, good or bad, so long as they are backed. I will detail various encounters in this post that shows we are not all bad, but instead just trying to do our own roleplay and have fun on the server.

The continual demonization of bandits in RP but more so in OOC has led to roleplay scenarios being partially decided by the first interaction. To explain, productive role-play scenarios where perhaps not all the resources are taken, or the character is not killed are now becoming less and less. This is due to the constant demonization and rivalry in OOC causing both bandits and the victim to outrightly go against each other. I therefore suggest a solution to have a productive discussion on how both staff play into these demonizations, the player who propagates them, and the bandits themselves.

Leading on from that, it is extremely difficult to lead any group of players who are in the slightest interested in doing villianly roleplay. I always try to ensure my player’s safety, telling them everyday that tomorrow people will cooperate with us. That or, the next day nobody will get banned for something that could’ve been easily communicated and resolved. It has been a troublesome task in the past to teach our players to steer away from new players. Not taking everything from their inventories and ensuring good roleplay despite the thorny situation the victim finds themselves in. This is hard to enforce at times, but our group as a collective actively tries to enforce these basic guidelines. Despite attempting all of this, more than half of the time we are treated poorly, disregarded and have toxic comments thrown our way.

Most of the time when we encounter newer players, or those plainly having a bad day, we make our best attempts at being lenient with them; sometimes even helping them, or guiding them in the right direction. In spite of the common misconception that we only bandit for pvp or for easy laughs, a good majority of us now strive for role-play. There is no loot to be gained that is worth anything of value at this moment in time, since the cap of vortex lays so low. We bring our armour, our general gear too, and the gear we gain in return is at such a low durability from the fight it is unusable. It is essentially a lose-lose situation, save for the RP gained from said scenario. 

I will now list some recent situations in which we’ve had to cope with players treating us poorly with little to no regard. I will do this so that you might get a better understanding of what it means to be a bandit. Explaining how much it takes to play with the lingering thought of uncertainty, including either a ban, or an infraction, from day to day:

Scenario 1

Orlanth and I decided to go and bandit the roads leading up to Oren, we managed to halt a player by the name of Romboo in which we were instantly greeted with a less than adequate response. To recount further, he replied with a below LOTC standard one line emote without directly taking our halt emotes into account at all. He then proceeded to say “Sike”, thereafter emoting poorly and running away, this was all without a countdown. This action is required as per the rule of Roleplay Combat and CRP. This is cited below:

“You may not mechanically run away from roleplay combat without it being possible, and having emoted prior and awaited for a reply from the opposing party. If this breaks out into a chase, you may then run a /countdown. No moving may occur before the countdown is completed.”

Regardless of the fact that our players have been banned recently with no communication for minor rule breaks like this, we decided to not act on him breaking the rule listed; we didn’t want him, or anybody in particular to lose their ability to play on the server. We then chased him down, downing him and emoted binding him after. After which, we were greeted with nothing but kind messages, such as:

As a result of this, the player stated made a modreq. He went about using foul language, directed toward us, which he of course got let off entirely for. But if we would have said it, we would have most likely gotten infractions and maybe even banned; having to write 3-4 appeals after our supposed bans to prove ourselves to be reformed. I then went about lecturing Romboo about the rules regarding running from roleplay before the mod had arrived. We explained the situation after and the mod at hand gave us the clear to continue roleplay, as myself nor Orlanth had not broken any rules. Following that we killed him, as he deserved it after he had made us wait for an extended period of time; providing no roleplay either.

Scenario 2

https://imgur.com/a/13svaXo

In this next scenario, I sent our newer bandits onto the roads and when they at last found somebody else and halted them, the stated player simply logged out. Not a single bit of hesitation was held, they just logged out. The broken rule is cited below, that being rule 7 from the general combat rules: 

“You may not log out, fast-travel, or use your soulstone to escape combat (CRP or PVP) unless you have been disengaged/not been interacted with for 10+ minutes, or when killed if the other side permits it (rather than mechanically dying).”

Again, we are not on the server to ruin somebody else's time, which they use to escape to their computer, or to make their lives a misery on the server. When the mod asked what punishment we thought the person deserved, we decided to act with some kindness for the player at hand. If our group would have broken a rule such as this, they would have likely gotten banned for at least two weeks. Regardless, the bandits responded with:

We are showing our goodwill again here, despite us not even knowing the player at all. We even made sure the player would not receive a ban. Orlanth even went about ensuring the player had some food left in his inventory by the mod, so they had enough to run back to their nation with.

Scenario 3

For this particular scenario, I am required to give some extra information regarding our group. Whenever relevant, I force every single one of our members to show me their halting emotes prior to heading onto the roads. Why? I want to ensure their roleplay is sufficient and that they do not get banned for poor villainy role-play, this is probably the easiest ban to receive. They put their halting emote in a chat where nobody else could see it, they were also not within a one-hundred block radius of any other player not in the group. I then went about reading the emote, making sure they were entirely sufficient. 

This was on the second day of the map, so I wanted to put more emphasis on checking their emotes before they roamed the roads freely. We were hanging out in the discord and I was watching one of my guys stream, they halted two players as their first encounter after I made them write new emotes. The players instantly made a modreq, regarding the copy-pasting emotes, causing an hour of waiting around; providing no role-play. This discussion, being the copy-pasting emote scenario/situation has been up in the air for as long as I can remember; so I asked basket right after he became an admin to make sure.

As seen in the screenshot above, it is entirely fine so long as you keep them fresh and short. Ensuring they are not to be used again after a singular encounter, but this should have been fine in our situation as the emotes had never been used before in roleplay, or on somebody else. The mod arrived at the scene, he went about checking omni (the tool used to check player logs.)  They saw the emote pop up multiple times since I forced my newer players to show me them first prior to the encounter. And out of nowhere, a completely new bandit was banned for a week for poor villainy. When I personally asked the mod if they had logs and proof of them using it to halt different players, they plainly responded with “yes.”

I was watching the stream as if it was my favourite movie, watching with my own eyes as the mod blatantly lied, or skipped steps. My players had never used the emotes stated in a prior role-play situation or encounter, at all. It was plain and simply impossible, due to the players being the very first people they attempted to bandit that day. So, either my eyes deceive me or the Orenian mod is fabricating, or misconstruing evidence. If there is some evidence regarding this case to be handed out, which again plainly proves they used the emote during multiple roleplay encounters with people outside of our group please send them to me. I will be at the ready on discord and I will completely scrap this part of the post.

Just to add, if you thought this entire scenario was a pain to my newer bandit players, also add on the fact that the GM made them wait an entire hour before handing out punishments. He did not attempt to resolve the situation, nor did he regard any of the comments made by the bandits at hand. At one point, the bandits and the victim players decided it was finally time to call it quits and go their separate way due to the mod taking so long. Naturally, the GM did not respond to this as he had only said about 4 things during the entire hour. It all ultimately ended with zero communication between the staff and player; one player banned, another given an infraction and the last without anything to his name. To summarise, both parties wanted to end said conflict both in RP and in OOC, yet the mod still pushed for punishment.

The Final Scenario

The last, yet my most favourite scenario. This one led to my first ever ban on this server, which is nothing due to it only being three days. Yet, as for my friend, who was less fortunate and received a ban for an entire eighteen days. Anyway, my group and I decided to go and give Oren a large raid cooldown of two and a half days, instead of the casual spam cooldown of twenty four hours. This would lead to them having a two and a half day grace period, catching them a break from banditry on both their nation and nation road. We headed to the capital of Oren, ready to take whatever they had in their city, or at least make an attempt at taking from them. We ran from the East Fleet to Oren, and on the roads we met a patrol of six Orenians. One of their citizens engaged first in combat with us, in which we called for PVP. The countdown was called, so we could PVP and have it over with. According to the rules we can only have four people there, which we did not know at the time since we believed it was like the map before. This is where there was only a singular region per nation. It is cited below: 

“Raid size is dependent on the raid target

*Lairs: 3 player max

*Settlements and non-capital tiles: 4 player max

*Nation capital tiles: 5 player max”

Thus, we believed we were on the capital tile, since the large text consisting of “The Holy Orenian Empire” appeared on our screens. The mod who was fighting alongside the Orenians did not mention a single thing regarding the rule breach, they even acknowledged the numbers before starting. After his acknowledgement, he even then corrected the player count to not just four, but five. 

Regardless, the countdown between the six Orenians and the five bandits was called, for them to at last fight. Yet, before it had ended entirely, the Orenians chose to run. Following the rules, if you run before the countdown has ended entirely, you forfeit your option to fight back and instead have to run and run only. The rule is cited below:

Rule 8 of Mechanics combat/PVP

“To start PvP combat before the timer is over is prohibited. If either party starts to run before the timer is finished, they forfeit the ability to fight back and may only attempt to flee to safety instead. “

This is the proof of the rule breach:

Instead of following the listed rule, the Orenians decided to fight back anyway. Despite this not mattering in the grand scheme of things, due to them still losing to 2 bandits, it is still a breach of the rules. If we had broken this rule, we would’ve been gone for a month, or severely infracted; forced to write yet another appeal, about how we’re sorry and reformed. We did not pursue any punishment on them as we didn’t want to force some of their key players off of the server, no matter how long the ban would be. Then after all of this, we wrapped up the roleplay, using consequential and impressive emotes, ensuring good roleplay. We had captured the General of Oren afterall, we just wanted to provide some quality roleplay, so I will list the final emote below:

Everything seemed to be great, we let ErikAzog run off with some potatoes so he could make it back to Providence. Then we all went our separate ways and the group called it a night. In contrast to our display of good-will, I woke up this morning with my DM’s flooded. Four to five of my guys had been banned for breaching raid rules, those people including: the military leader of Norland and the nation leader of Sutica, gone without conversation.

This for me personally topped everything, we made sure that up to eight Orenians have remained unbanned over the last couple of days. We’ve done everything in our power to stay as nice as possible, and the second they lose a set of their gear, they take any chance to get some of our people banned. Doing all in their power to combat road banditry through removal of players from the server, rather than dealing with it through military roleplay or growth.

In conclusion

Playing a bandit is just about one of the hardest things to do properly on the server, not due to the roleplay at hand, but due to the constant game of ‘dodgeball with bricks’. We do our utmost to play by the rules, harsh or not, we still try to abide by them. However, when we are only just grasping at the seams of success we always fall short, removed from the server with no communication. I’ll take my three day ban, but I am less happy about my friend wwwdotfreesmiley, who has received a ban of eighteen days. Yes, this is a result of him receiving a previous ban, but in a situation which I will not detail now. Please let this post enlighten you about what we have to do to remain on the server, each time we do something remotely villainous. Even though our leaders wrangle people to play by the rules to such an extent, it always ends up feeling like it's too much effort and too little reward. 

I will briefly clarify why us bandits do what we do, and why. It can feel like an excuse sometimes, but we as a collective agree that our role-play enhances the medieval feeling of the server itself. Cities need more guards as a result of our role-play, they inevitably need to bolster their military more for active patrols and whatnot. People also end up plotting their ways to travel on the road: faster ways, safer ways and sometimes they even end up being escorted to reach their desired destination. When nations improve at their safeguarding, patrols and overall road safety it creates a feeling of euphoria for them, at last- the bandits have finally been beaten back; our roads safe! This is due to them having practised and trained, ultimately accomplishing a goal. On our side, it's our goal to have fun with our group, to strengthen it, to provide role-play for ourselves, the opponent and to feel as if our presence is known.

Lastly, let this post act as proof  that the give/take mental that lotc is striving towards only causes more problems. You can give whatever you want, help whoever you want, at the end of the day people won't return the favor because they'd rather have you off the server as a player than have you off the roads as a character.

Now, I implore you to use this thread as means of discussion, give me your two-cents, I’ll be listening. No clowning around, keep the comments civil pls : ).

Before you post anything, keep in mind that this post is not only about banditting, there is more to unpack here that i'd like insight on.

found in teleport hub on the way to orcs

White Sand, found on mine on teleport hub that leads to orcs

The Siege

[!] Sitting just north of cloud temple was a small mining outpost, its walls bustling with the sounds of metal on rock, friends chatting about a hopeful future, and the occasional steps of llamas. A beacon of hope for those families torn apart by the hands of the imperials it was, but that all changed on the 13th Day of the Grand Harvest, 1764.

Just like any other day, the camp sat peacefully upon the mountains surrounding the cloud temple; miners continued their work, guards watched their posts, and refugees welcomed help from the camp. The Foreman doing what he did best as he guided the workers day and night with little rest for himself, tending only to stop when the occasional travel came bearing supplies to keep the camp running. To the poor souls thriving within the camp on this day, everything changed. As night fell the camp prepared for the usual nightly raid, and sadly they were not prepared for what was planning to attack them that fateful night. “Get down!” yelled one of the guards as massive boulders began to rain down on the helpless camp.

For hours the camp was besieged by Orens war machines, when suddenly a monstrous roar erupted from the earth as a rock caused the mine to collapse. Almost as soon as the mine collapsed the world seemed to freeze for a moment, the war machines pausing for a moment when a deafening boom erupted from the mine. An explosion had destroyed the mine from within, the camp’s source of prosperity now in flames. Horrific screams could be heard for miles outside of the camp, and within as women, children, even grown men began to scream in fear. A blanketing haze of smoke billowing outwards, its black smoke a symbol of what was to come… death.  

“Forward!” yelled an orenian commander as the armies of man began to march on the mining camp. Fire bombs sent many a man to meet their maker as they marched, but nothing could stop this unruly army of humans. As the army secured their first foothold in the city, a cold voice filled the air, “By God, kill them, kill them all!” yelled an orenian official as the army of many began to relentlessly slaughter every man, women, and even defenseless children. One man decided to spare the life of a bandit among the chaos, only to watch his brethren slaughter innocent women and children as they ran in fear. The siege soon came to an end as the leader of this lowly mining camp threw himself from a window to hang by a rope tied to his neck. Victory was earned, but was it worth it? 

The Promise

After the genocide of the mining camp, a young goblin made his way back towards the camp with a smile on his face, excited to see those he called family once more. The goblin's smile soon faded, skin soon turned beginning to lighten as he walked upon tents splattered with blood. A horrific display of limbs and cloth laid in front of his poor soul. The now ghostly pale figure continued forth past campfires with the cold bodies of women and children intertwined with another nearby. 

As the lonely goblin entered the mine would be completely collapsed, the rubble of the tower littered by the bodies of infantry. Their weapons and swords would be dropped before their cold bodies seemingly in surrender before they were cut down. The young goblin’s gaze soon locked onto the building overlooking the camp as he yelled, “Git dh zkah out uv der ****,” his voice trembling as he began to scale the hill, “Mi… Mi haz zumten fur lat” the voice of the goblin hoping to find someone, anyone. Hanging from the walls of the fort would be a swinging body, of a larger man adorning plate armor, a metal cord strung around his neck tightly as his hands hung loose by his sides. Upon seeing the sight, the goblin began to rush up towards the body of his friend, of his brother. The poor creature unable to believe the imperials could commit such an atrocity, “Nub- Nub-, dem zkahurz wud nevur du diz…” his voice full of fear as he made his way through the blood soaked building. 

Upon reaching the balcony the body was hung from, the voice of a bandit cried out, “They slaughtered everyone. The children. They tore apart their limbs, ate them! I- I.. know of the horrors that happened here. They slaughtered us like cattle, they killed us all!” the goblin frozen in time as the voice fell silent for a moment, “Run from here, all that remains is death....” With that, the resounding mechanism of an arbalest would be heard followed by the squelching of flesh and a crumple from the tower. A single tear fell from the goblin's eyes as he realized what happened, and after he regained himself the goblin swiftly cut the rope holding the beast of a man by the neck. 

Soon the young goblin ran down to the body of One Eye, his own hand moving to close the eyes of a friend that changed his own life for the better. As he dropped to a knee he echoed the words of the bandit from a moment prior, “Flat….” his voice continuing to tremble as he spoke, “Lat wyll nub flat fur nuffen brudda.” The goblin’s voice spoke with a passion as he brought himself to his feet looking over the camp, “Nub fur nuffen.”

After taking the time to take a memory of One Eye with him, the goblin pushed his body into the pit that gave himself and the man a reason to live. The goblin then made his way to bury one of the gate guards that always wished him well, another tear dissolving in the bloody earth of the camp as he made his way to the exit. “Tyl nehxt tik bruddaz” his voice firm as he walked out of the camp with one thing on his mind, Oren.

Preface

You've made it to bronze tier, great! You've just reached the tip of the iceberg of the vortex plugin. As a player of the beta, I'm here to enlighten you guys on some ways we can crack this bronze wall and progress even further.

While most vortex materials can be crafted with the vortex blast furnace as well as vortex blacksmith table, they happen to be only tier 1 vortex crafting stations. Tier 2 vortex crafting stations are needed to progress pass this tier. These vortex crafting stations are crafted with tier 2 versions of the standard vortex material. For example, while the vortex blast furnace is made out of smooth stone, a normal furnace and iron  - the second tier vortex blast furnace is made of 'vortex thick stone', a vortex blast furnace and iron.

As such, the vortex materials needed to upgrade your vortex crafting benches are:

Vortex Sturdy wood -> Vortex Blacksmith table T2  &  Vortex Loom T2

Vortex Thick stone -> Vortex Blast Furnace T2, Vortex Stone Cutter T2

Gaining these materials is very difficult, with a 0.1% drop chance from any normal stone or wood node.

HERBOLOGY

 Use of the 'Vortex rich loam soil' block is needed to grow herbs and produce potions. A pit has been provided near spawn and will require the use of a steel shovel to harvest.

NEW RECIPES

An example of these new Vortex recipes being unlocked for you are:

Vortex Steel! Crafted using Vortex iron ingots and vortex charcoal.

Vortex Thanic steel! Crafted using Vortex thanic shard and 5 ingots of Vortex steel.

- A resource pit for 100% drop chance Vortex thanic shards has been provided at spawn.

Vortex Fae Steel! Crafted using a Vortex fae shard and 5 ingots of Vortex steel.

Vortex Daemon steel! Crafted using Vortex inferi blood and 5 ingots of Vortex steel.

Vortex Aengul steel! Crafted using an Vortex aengul eye and 5 ingots of Vortex steel.

Keep in mind these are all high tier items unlocked by vortex progression to T2 vortex work stations and may process special properties ;). Hint: one of them allows you to teleport small distances. Vortex Reagents are also rare drops from stone with an unknown drop percentage.

Bear in mind I don't have all the answers, just wanted to provide some tips for players to progress

VORTEX VORTEx voRTex

[!] 

The rumors and stories began to travel over the lands of Arcas. The wind brought forward stories of a far away campsite and organization.

The band of inhabitants sat along a campfire, drinking and eating until their stomachs were full. They had a long day behind them of sewing tents and building their carts. Wooden wheels and planks lay scattered among the campsite. Some did not rest and continued to work throughout the night, the banging of their hammers drummed throughout the night. They were preparing.

They were organizing themselves working towards a journey to set out together and allow anyone who wishes to join them.  A journey where they can continue to move and meet new people all while trading whatever goods they can produce  or acquire. They were almost done, just a little bit longer. But first, it was time to get some rest. Some shuteye for the night.

They would set out soon to barter and trade among the continent of Arcas …

Or maybe somewhere else?

OOC Information:

A bright, sunny day of Snow's Maiden in Arcas.

Leyu would be sitting at the study in her home,  twelve things would be laid out on the desk before her:

• 4 tan coloured slips of paper
• 4 tan coloured envelopes 
• A red wax candle
• A box of matches
• A 'L' stamp
• Ink and a quill 

She'd take a deep breath, organising everything on the side before setting one paper and one envelope on front of her.

Leyu would lift the quill up from the side and hover It over the ink, letting out another deep breath before dipping it in, three times to be exact.

She would then slide the paper closer, looking down to it before bringing her hand down.

As the quill met the slip- she'd begin to write the first of four letters.

-=+=-

Firstly, 

To my lovely sister,

Astrid Palmer

@SrongBear

[!] A nicely folded, tan coloured envelope, sealed with a red wax would rest nicely in the mailbox; addressed to Astrid  Palmer.

Along with the letter, a sword, the tearjerker, would be leaned against the mailbox with a tag reading: For Palmer

The letter would read:

Thirdly, 

To my daughters,

Andria Syrivir

@AudTheOdd

[!] A nicely folded, tan coloured envelope, sealed with a red wax would rest nicely in the mailbox; addressed to Andria Syrivir

Along with the letter, a jar of strawberry seeds would be packaged along- the seeds from the last time the Andria and Leyu went picking. 

The letter would read:

Lastly, 

To my dearest love

Kalian Syrivir 

@NLThomas

[!] A nicely folded, tan coloured envelope, sealed with a red wax would rest nicely in the mailbox; addressed to Kallian Syrivir.

This letter would be the longest out of the six others.

As he'd open the envelope and look inside, he would see a dried, dead, red rose- perhaps one from the bouquet Kallian had gifted Leyu all those years ago. Who knew she saved it after all this time...

Now, as he opened the letter, the handwriting would be neat, almost as if she had written the letter over and over again- just to finally get it right.

The letter would read:

-=+=-

[!] Each letter would end with her signature

ChAracter’s Name: Hauxqueer

Character’s Age: Not legal

Magic you’re learning: Necromancy

Who is teaching you?: Luv

Teacher’s character’s name: Kipperz’donte

Magic I am dropping: Mysticism

Any other notes?: I have never had a turkey leg dipped in 24 karat gold because I’m so ridiculously poor that it’s become rather comical that homelessness and pics of sewer rats have become my aesthetic.

Decree of Banishment

Seed. 5th of the Amber Cold, 1794

= Overview =

Under executive moderation and investigation, to chastise the Princedom of Elvenesse and the Glade of Siramenor, the High Robes of Fefoon and unswerving servants of Azdromoth use their granted power to hereby banish all unwilling parties from the roads of Arcas:

• Princedom of Elvenesse
• Glade of Siramenor

Those found to infringe on this substantiated ruling are to submit themselves to the courts of the Great Titan, to be judged by the Inquisitor Eternal. Refusal to our espoused magistrate will lead to merciless, yet vindicate death on accounts of their crimes against mortalkind. However, sufficient display of willing surrender will be accepted, and be taken as captive for extended investigation.

= Rationale =

 - The spread of libel wherein the kith of Azdromoth were declared as spawns of the Archdaemon Iblees. To this, many disillusioned nations drove those of draconic blood out of their lands and hoisted unfound and unjustified aggression. In doing so, those of nephilim were prodded out of plans to help battle the inferi, and sanctioned for supporting mortalkind. This is a crime which brought utmost humiliation, even forcing the hands of the Inquisitor Eternal to defeat those of the Elvenesse five consecutive times, all outmatched.

- Blighting the soils of Arcas and our network of roads with their presence. Through expenditure on advanced research, traces of an unknown disease were found on those of the Elvenesse specifically. This disease has been labelled as ‘Anti-braintoxifinication’. Wherein, the denizens of the Crown Elvenesse lose their mind upon leaving their lands and speaking to one who is not of their profound nation. To quarantine this disease, the denizens of Siramenor and Aegrethond are hereby restricted to roam the roads or enter any nation not their own.

Signed,

His Royal Majesty, Eluitholnear of Laraethryn, King Emperor of the Fire Lands.

His Royal Majesty, Thrictonoparic of Bren, Volcano-Prince of Ashy Stuff

THIS QUIET DAY

-=-=-

View of the sea at night, 1873 - Ivan Aivazovsky

-=-=-

The rain trickled like dribbling thoughts, splashing onto the floor like specks of stardust. The droplets, akin to voices that tugged onto the man’s mind. The skies; all but a mural, a gentle wash of blue and orange stretched over his sight. Great burning eyes peered from above, starlight - brazen in their glory, flickering vigorously in the night. Amongst the ground laid a blanket of sea, reflecting the pondering back as great streaks of light ran across the surface, twinkling idly in peaceful motions.

The sounds, all but mutterings of a chorus as Vulen sat upon a aquamarine blanket. His armor softly clinked in his motions, the noise embraced by the whispers of the rustling leaves. The winds, skipping amongst twilight; a gentle dance amidst this moment of respite. Restless eyes saw the form well, an ardent energy instilled upon the helmetless knight. Upon his veins, an incredible courage and valour. Yet, it wasn’t of choice. A blessing, bestowed upon him. 

Inscriptions ran over his tanned skin, azure markings woven of pride. To show of his fealty, the promise weaved to his family and his kin; those who mattered to the novice knight. A luminous light bounced off the pigment, yet it didn’t distract him. The man’s gaze was carried over, torn over at the waves - the motions of freedom that nature danced, alluring him over.

Vulen’s hand grasped onto his hip, holding over at the scabbard that remained bound upon his side. The burning falchion, forged and wielded with impunity, parted from the string and soon laid against the tree. The bark met the shagreen grip well, the restless blade buzzing with an aura of intensity and unwavering intrepidity.

Seduced, he was. The temptation of the blade was well, glorious in the absence of macabre aura. It gave him purpose, a reason to prod onwards. His waking wanderlust quelled by the relic that he had created - he and his kin, those that he pledged fealty towards.

Cherish your family well; a thought spoke to him, the jestling voice quelled by uncertainty. The once-humorous tone, cradled by a sense of solitude.

He had felt it, perhaps Vulen always did. The sense for more, the exuberant wanderlust that he was a fool for. The man yearned for purpose, for a reason to exist. Other things called now, not just this material blade. His skills and craft were shown, mixed with the pigment of his kin.

“..Coming? I’ve some grapes!”

His thoughts vanished, torn away as the voice heralded a return from his thinking. He’d wander to the tree once more, no more did moonlight speak to him. The reflections of the sea speaking of the bright, and burning, sun as it’d peer towards the two. Gingerly, Vulen’s hand moved to grasp it once more - strapping it onto his waist. He’d turn his gaze over to the noise, a faint smile adorned. Slowly, did he wander onwards.

Perhaps, the man ought to live more in the moment, rather than dwell on the future. He could enjoy his time here, free of his worrying. Upon the blanket laid a pair of leaves, curled and weaved of metal; one blemished in gold, the other cradled in silver.

And so he left, rejoicing in this quiet day.

-=-=-

“I don’t understand,” Braedon mutters, nervously trying to smother the light from his lamp. “There’s nothing here. It’s a dead end.” He stands at the threshold, framed by the dark stonework against the deeper darkness beyond it. He does not see the open gateway before him, nor the inscriptions that surround it. He does not see the fragments of bone that litter the flagstones beneath his boots. I smile, playing my part. “It is the simplest of things,” I tell him, “to hide in plain sight.”

The man turns, confusion and frustration written clearly upon his face. “Don’t play games with me, witch! Do you have any idea what I’m risking, being down here? Or what would happen if we’re caught? Your kind are hunted,, by order of the everyone—there are guilds of hunters everywhere!” This, at least, is true. Usually, it is encouraged to kill a witch as soon as she’s been discovered. Unfortunately, men are too full of themselves to properly combat their enemies.

“But they would not doubt your innocence,” I reassure  him. “A survivor of the wicked witch, no less. I lured you here and turned on you… What can they say to that? If we were spotted, you could just step back,  and wouldn't even need to run.” His expression darkens. “Oh, you don’t run from the trained swordsman…” I do not need to hear this thinly veiled propaganda again, but I let him ramble. I’ve coordinated a brilliant scheme, which requires this man’s help, though it fills my heart with rage to admit it.

Even so, I let Braedon have his moment. It is why we are here. His eyes fall to the ground. “The man you… he was a father, a brother- he was a good man. Times are tough, and the contract would have rewarded him enough to feed them.”

I nod, laying a hand on Braedon’s shoulder. “Contracted by the corrupt that have taken control over your town… He poked the bear, and that is why we will make him pay for everything he has done. You are an honorable man, anyone can see that. I have told the others all about you, and they wish to meet you for themselves.”

“I can’t meet anyone, witch, if we can’t get inside.” He glances around. “Aren’t Fjarri—” I recoil. “Do not use that name. It makes you sound like… well, as you said. Like you understand.” Pushing past him, I stride through the yawning mouth of the gate. He almost drops the lantern in surprise, seeing the entrance now, for the first time. Stumbling after me, Braedon checks to make sure we are not being followed, then squints into the shadows of the passageway.

“Is it true?” he hisses. “What they say about you, is it true?” I do not slow my pace. “Come. Find out for yourself.”
 

The cavernous chambers are not a monument. Nor are they merely a fortress, in the sense that the old owners knew it. The stone around us almost thrums with power, though Braedon is mostly oblivious. I have felt it countless times, through the centuries—he knows something is not right, but feels it only as a lethargic drag on his limbs, and a whispering itch in the back of his brain. Few mortals last long when they are this close to the altar. To his credit, he still has his wits about him, enough to reach for his dagger when a robed figure emerges from the gloom.

I pass both of us, coming in the other direction. I look tired. No matter. This will be concluded soon enough. Braedon eyes me suspiciously until I disappear from sight, then ambles to the side of the person he knows as Mercy. “Huh, who are these people?” Braedon asks, as more anonymous figures come and go. “I don’t recognize any of them. Are they the sisters you spoke of?”

I sigh. It is disappointing that men’s minds often cannot see what is right in front of them. “They are sympathetic to your family’s plight,” I reply, keeping the disdain from my voice. “We, all of us, are committed to the downfall, and the restoration of the balance. It is better that you do not know their names, or their faces.” 

He scoffs. “But how can we work together, if we—” The words die on his lips as we turn the last corner. We stand at the edge of the great root of the altar, plunging down into the stone of the ruins, far deeper than the rock flooring should even allow. A roiling miasma of cold blues and jealous white swirls in the distance before us, underlighting the trunk that sprouted the root.

There, between them, suspended above the madness, is a frightful, hulking silhouette. A husk of lifeless armor and a thousand defaced sculptures scattered across the old fortress. Braedon takes half a step back. “This can't be…” he murmurs. “It… It can't…” His voice is cracking. His eyes glisten with tears. I lean in over his shoulder, to whisper behind his ear. “Do you see the truth of it, now? The truth buried beneath the ice ? So has it been for centuries, since the days of the first kings—no witch hunter, no emperor or tyrant, can breath unless the maidens of ice allow it. Many are those who would serve, though few prove worthy andend up on the menu.” I gently pluck the lantern from his trembling fingers, and guide him away from the sight that has so transfixed him. 

“The Coven must rise. Our cabal is utterly committed to this, above all else, and we will sacrifice whatever we must to achieve it.” On some level, Braedon knows what he will see even before I pull back the shroud. It is the dessicated body of his brother, Thomas. The younger man’s features are frozen in a deathly rictus, yet there is an unmistakable sense of fear about it.

“Your family was singled out most unfairly, Braedon. Your brother and his sons were butchered, simply for remaining in the woods too late that evening. Your brother gave his life gladly in pursuit of revenge. Will you honor your debt, or will you betray me now?” Braedon sinks to his knees, looking up at me with fresh eyes. “You. You are far from us. You are a monster.”

He does not even flinch when a second pale woman appears at my side. We speak with the same voice. “We are everywhere. We are anyone. You know only what you need to know, and see what we want you to see.” A third pale woman steps out behind Braedon, and then a fourth. Even so, he bows his head to me, no doubt convinced he is doomed. 

“For the safety of my wife,,” he swears, “and the lives of my two sons… I will serve you, witch.” This naive fool thinks he will be the hero. I’ll let him think that, for it suits my purpose, which is merely to feed my sisters off the populace of this town, and when the well runs dry we’ll move elsewhere. 

I trace the rune of the binding in the air above Braedon’s head, marking him as our own. He’ll make sure no one interferes with the plot we shall soon devise. “Rise then. Your pledge is heard and accepted. I pray you come out victorious— May the fate of your sons not be the same as their uncle’s and your beloved wife not fall victim to the curse.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPwZQiYsL4w

Alfius stood, overlooking the ruins of Thalor, his hand curling into a fist as he would stare towards the crumbling city. The sun began to set on the horizon, painting the sky like a fresh canvas, colored shades of red, blue, and violet. The man would take in a deep breath, overlooking the ruin as a soft breeze rolled past him, rustling the trees beyond. He began recalling the days when life was sweet and simple, oh what he would give for such days to return to him. He recalled his days in Belvitz, when he was but a simple man needing nothing more than the company of his friends— Alex, Ash, Bruce, Matthias, Milly, and each and every one of the others. Such a pleasant time, one that made him feel almost guilty for how much he had changed. And now all of those friends had come to pass, and only he remained. But it was getting late, for the sun set in the west, and soon darkness would set in. Perhaps it was best to head inside, he would think to himself, the man moving back down the hill to a small ruined cottage.

It was a simple home, with two stories and an attic. The roof had a large hole in it from the snowfall years ago, though he was not present for that. This home had served him well for so many years. Oh so many years. Alfius moved to brush his hand against the stone base, the cobblestone cold to the touch as the moon rose over the great hills. After a brief moment, Alfius would head inside, the door creaking as he opened it.

The man entered the small abode, the smell of old books and sage flooding his nostrils. The home was cozy, simple, with a few chairs sitting before a dustied wooden table. A small dusty leather journal sat upon the table, but he would get to that later. To the right, there was a small platform raised, with a few counters and cupboards, with assorted cooking tools. Perhaps make a meal? No, there wasn’t time. My time is dwindling. 

Alfius would move over towards the fireplace, tending to the fading flames as he took some of the nearby logs and placed them within, the fire roaring and crackling as the logs were slowly licked and consumed by the flames. There, it was warmer now, a sense of coziness coming across the house— yet something still was missing. 

Alfius would move back over towards the table, sitting down upon a chair as he let out a sigh, recalling all that had passed. He then recalled his days with the Ascended, when he had sought to serve the Archaengul as one of her light bearers. He recalled studying each of their tenets and codes, before great grief came over him. Alfius let out another sob as he would stare at the floor, grabbing his own hair within his hands as a few tears dropped down upon the wooden floor. What was he to do…? He had broken every single one of them. 

After a moment of regret and grief, Alfius would produce a small painted portrait, looking to it with a soft smile as a few tears welled up within his eyes once more. A beautiful young girl was imprinted upon the paper, with bright golden hair and a gentle smile, eyes green as emeralds. Ah, his daughter Symphony, such a beauty— a gem which made even the stars themselves seem dull and pale. 

The man would reach for the dustied journal upon the table. This was her journal, Symphony’s, with all of our jokes and secrets and codes. Oh what a precious trinket, he would never dare to part with it, yet he must. The fire continued to flicker, yet it was slowly dying, the light dancing about the room slowly fading away as the man flipped through the journal briefly. She had such lovely writing, always a very smart young girl. What he would give to see her again, yet he never could. Never will I see her again. Never… 

Alfius looked to the fire once more as the flames continued to die out— his time was near up. The man rose from the chair with a grunt, setting the journal upon the table once more as he moved over to the fire. He reached for the logs once more, before pausing. No. He was only prolonging the inevitable. He had already evaded the end long enough, and it would be foolish to evade it longer. The fire will fade, and so will he.

No magic nor spell could save him now. What he had done was unforgivable. And now he would pay the price. Alfius would fall onto his knees before the fire, eyes staring at its fading light, the soft embers reflecting in his eyes as the darkness in the room slowly crept closer. Sweat poured formed upon the man’s forehead, his eyes filled with both fear and regret and sadness. His entire life, everything he had done, all added up to this movement.

Finally, the fire died out, leaving the room dark and desolate, Alfius kneeling upon the ground. The soft ringing, almost like a chime, was heard within the man’s ear, before the sound of a body falling echoed throughout the house. And there lied Alfius, cold upon the dustied floor, the last bit of light fading from his dark eyes. In those last moments, he saw all he had done, all he had accomplished, and all that he had failed to do flashed before his eyes within seconds. Never would he see his friends, nor his daughter. The man was nothing— an insignificant speck. Was there redemption? No. Not for him. For anyone but him. The light within him was gone— faded from his soul. There was nothing left for him but death and suffering... but... perhaps not...

OOC

 This character really helped to shape my roleplay on LOTC and so many of you all made this character so special in so many ways and I will never forget it, I truly cannot thank you enough. Honestly this character took a twist I never would’ve seen coming; from his medic and mage times in Belvitz, to his striving to become a holy mage, to becoming cold and uncaring, delving further into the dark. It is a bittersweet moment to end this character, but I realize that moving on is just a part of the story. This was truly a fantastic character that I have truly enjoyed and I am very sad to see him go, yet everyone passes at some point, and Alfius has long evaded his time. I hope you all enjoyed this character as much as I did, truly. Thank you all!

The howling winds rushed through the trees, sending flurries of snow into the air as the blizzard roared on in the northern woods. A lone man wrapped in a heavy cloak and thick leather gloves used a dying torch to provide light as he trudged through the deep white blanket. His eyes were narrowed and he cursed under his breath as the cold nipped at his rose shaded nose. The sound of a snapping branch nearby would suddenly draw in his attention as he came to a complete stop and shifted the flame in the direction of the noise. “Who goes there?! Show yourself!” The man roared out, but his voice was carried away with the violent winds.

He turned to look over his shoulder and soon swiveled his head to sweep over his surroundings. The storm seemed to be getting worse, so he’d begin to walk once more in hopes of making it back to his cabin soon. Out of the corner of his eye he’d notice a black mass move from one tree to another, far too quick for his mind to comprehend, he could barely move in this weather. “Enough! Come out!” The man cried towards the trees as he clenched his jaw roughly. A blue glowing light stepped out from behind the tree. 

The man’s eyes shot wide open and his blood ran cold, well colder. He’d suddenly find himself frozen in place as he looked upon the blue light which showed just a few meters ahead, seemingly without source. The crunching of snow was all he heard before he’d fall back into the snow and make a feeble attempt at scurrying away. A woman’s laugh echoed from all around, seemingly carried by the very storm which raged all around him. “I guess it’s been centuries since anyone truly feared the witches of the north… hasn’t it?” The woman’s voice called out to him as he’d still try his best to make it back onto his feet.

“Far from an urban legend, as I’m sure you’re coming to realize.” The witch mockingly called out as she’d rush forward with immense speed, the snow only barely grazed by her steps. She stood a mere arm’s reach from him before she’d raise her leg and send the tip of her toes into his arm - sending his torch flying beside him, melting through the layers of ice and snow they stood atop. “Strimoza hvan vu rikult nhit e’dakir-uhd’karth.” the witch broke out into a maniacal fit of laughter before lurching downward onto the poor man, her razor sharp teeth ripping his throat swiftly from the rest of his body. Blood stained the otherwise pure white sheet of snow which covered the northern landscape. His screams sent the birds into flight, but the macabre shrill was too soon taken by the unforgiving storm.

[!] A decorated town, decorated by the autumn colors and carved pumpkins, ready for Knoxoween

(Musica)

As many know, knoxoween is right around our corner.  Therefore, a great plan is in the works!

Let’s explain, as we are nearing the time period of scary festivals, carved pumpkins, and sugar-filled foods, a great idea had been proposed among a few friends. The idea of a continent-wide organized hunt! A route through all of the continent shall be coordinated which participants follow, complete with drawing and a list of addresses to visit! Those who rather stay inside their houses to welcome the visitors in customs are free to hand out whatever reward they please, might this be candy, gadgets, and any other type knick-knacks. But do not forget that this festival is all about things that go bump in the night! Therefore, you should expect a couple scares along the way.

There are three groups you can join in this event!

Seeker

Seekers are the dressed up spooks that knock  on your doors! A seeker, optionally, can dress up in a frightening costume in order to rack up more rewards from the houses. The event’s starting point will be at Cloud Temple, where your presence will be required at the beginning. You’ll be striped off from the checklist, paired up with another random Seeker,  and be given a lantern. As you are called out to start your route, your pair will be given a map of the route and a list of all the addresses at one nation. Also, if you are scared by Monsters, you aren’t allowed to engage in physical combat or you’re out of the event. They can’t hurt you and vice versa.

Keepers

Keepers are those holed up in their houses, stacked with rewards, and ready to give them to the Seekers that impresses them the most. You aren’t required to dress up but you are encouraged to decorate your house. At the very minimum, you should have a jack-o-lantern at the door so that the Seekers also have a visual guide on where to knock. Just make sure you have some rewards ready for the visitors. It can be anything from simple candy, little trinkets, alchemy potions, or whatever you wish! You can even give out weapons if you want. You can recognize Seekers by their costume or their lanterns they carry. In case you can’t be there at time of the event but you have signed up, your address will be taking off the Seeker’s list.

Monsters

The name says it all. You will be stationed somewhere along the route with fellow Monsters in order to scare the Seekers passing by! You can do anything as long as it gives a good spook, for example, a band of undead robbing the living! You can get quite the entertainment out of this. Your only rule is to not take anything from the Seekers or rough them up (too much). What better entertainment but to scare people?

Sign up for Seeker!

Sign up for Keeper

Sign up for Monster

Costume event

Besides the eventual little rewards you’ll get from the Keepers,  there will be an overall reward as well for the best costume! For this reason, after you have completed your route, you will return to the Cloud Temple to hear the results for who won this fun little side mission. A Special Prize will await the winner!

Furthermore, safety of the Seekers has been taken care of. Seekers will go in pairs of two, as mentioned earlier and should keep to the route given to them. Pairs of Seekers will be released on the route every so time period (2 elven minutes). This way, a new group will find you if one pair of Seekers is in trouble. Organizers of the event will also patrol the route, and if anything goes array on the roads, make sure to shout for help from those who volunteered as Monsters, they should be nearby. They will be stationed in a way to cover as much ground as possible.

OOC:

The event be Sunday the 18^th, starting at 3 PM EST at the Cloud temple. It is necessary for you to fill in the forms stated above. It’s much easier for me to gather info this way. Everyone will be put in a discord server with their according role to make sure optimal coordination and organization is executed. A list of all participating Seekers will be handed out to the Keeper so that they can keep track of items they can handout. The Seekers will receive a map of the route and all the addresses of the attending Keepers, Monsters will be stationed and closely coordinated together 😄

I know a lot of people can’t do halloween right now because of Covid, so I was like, ‘Hey, why not just recreate something here irply for the lot of us?’. I hope it will create some joy for all of those in lockdown. 

https://discord.gg/CAnQe7r

discord invite ^

Each word would have been scribbled feverishly, obviously made in distress and copied over to new sheets.

MISSING: DANA MAELSTORM

Date of Birth: 14th of Malin's Welcome, 1771

Age: 16

Home City: Talon’s Grotto
Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Last known height: 4’7

Last known weight: 75lb

Dana has been missing for almost a year now. If you have any leads, please send a bird to either her stepfather, Eoghan O’Cathain (SemiProParrot99), or her mother, Vivian Maelstorm-O’Cathain (Mitamas).

REWARD: 2500 MINA

The highest peak in Arcas towered above as the Ascended made her way up. The cold winds brushing against her form, threatening to send her back. Yet she stood steadfast as she continued on. Night had since fallen and the full moon lingered up above, lighting her path. The woman wore her usual leathered coat and tunic, her teal sash slung around her waist. Her sabre strapped firmly to her side. On her back, she carried a simple bag of all she wanted to bring with her. Yet most noticeable - the polished slayer steel Arm of Aeriel was strapped to its usual place on her left hand. The astral crystals forged into the metal pulsing ever so lightly.

Finally, she came to a halt ontop the peak, overlooking the vast lands of Arcas. Elvira was no stranger to this peak, she had visited it many times to reflect or to take time away from the worries of the world. From the many fights with the dark, the light, and the void, to the concerns of the many in the lands below. There was a calm peacefulness that only this place could bear and keep -  a silence so welcoming it could grant even an Aengudaemon a moment’s peace. Though shadows have since fallen the land with the night - specks of light made out the many settlements. The many lives that have continued to strive, even now.

Yet she knew this would be her last visit here, or anywhere in Arcas.

The woman sat down at her usual rock, placing her sabre down by her feet. A gentle puff of breath escaped from her lips as she gazed over at the sight. Her ever-glowing teal eye filled with a knowing sadness.

Everything she did, she often questioned if it was worth it. From the lives she spared to the lives she took. The people she befriended and the people she hated. The many journies to the extraordinary of locations and to the very depth of danger. Everything she gained and everything she lost. What was it all for?

For the many who call these lands home? For herself? For the hope that everything would be different this time? For a peace that may never be truly gained?

All that Elvira knew was that she did what she could for all here - she had helped stopped many threats, brought new life into the world, and brought many lives to an end. She served the light and sought alternatives when dealing with the dark. She lived many lives within just one, went by many names and witnessed many moments.

The woman saw the worst in the world - those who turned to dark and used it to do harm to others, while those of light did just the same despite the oaths they took. She saw once innocent and cheerful lives either ended or changed due to the actions of others, many falling to their grief and pain. The anger of many by her actions, the friends and family she had lost. Too many times she saw one land end as they fled to another, the spinning cycle that never seemed to end still going.

Yet where there was worst, there was good - those who used their powers, regardless of light or dark, to protect and help others. Men and women who did ill now strived for redemption and stood back up after they fell. Times where many of different races stood together as one to protect their home. The smiles and joy that many found in the smallest of situations. The many friends and family she had, even when she had lost hope.

The world, the Ascended knew, needed both sides. Both light and dark, good and bad, life and death, joy and pain. No matter how many times someone tried to remove one side or avoid it, it’ll always be there. From the lich that tries to avoid death to the innocent man who tried to avoid doing bad. There was always a time where they cannot avoid it, no matter how many times they tried. That was the true balance of nature - of life in general.

That was why she did everything she did. To simply live, and so that others could experience life as well. And she did such well, a good life she had but one she knew was finally up. Afterall - even immortals die eventually, it was just a matter of when and not if. Not even she, regardless of what everyone thought, was immune to death.

The Ascended leaned back and watched the sky, the moon above seemly glowing brighter than usual. She felt herself weakening and glanced down to her hand. Already, her skin was beginning to crystallize, specks of light drifting off the teal surface and to the sky above. The crystals slowly spread up her arm, as same as the other and her legs. A clear sign of an Ascended about to die.

Elvira led a good life - she went from a frightened young child that had grown up with nothing but abuse and harm, to an Alchemist who strived to help many and eventually overcame her past. Then, a cleric of Tahariae who strived to do good but at the cost of ending innocent lives to see that impurity and purity did not matter. She became a leader, someone to guide others through the dark. Then, an Ascended who walked the path of grey - aiding both sides of light and dark to ensure balance was kept. So many trials and so many people lost. Nearly, she had lost herself many times but always found a way to keep herself going, even if it meant suffering more. She finally knew she reached the end.

Had she told anyone about her end, they would do all they could to stop her. Many didn’t want to see her go or accept the fact she was ready to move on. So many she had guided with her advice and wisdom, or stood side by side with on the battlefield, to the point where they relied on her too much. Many did not wish to accept her eventual death but deep down, they all knew it would happen. Thus, she decided to venture up to this peak and silently leave the world, with only the moon and stars as her witnesses.

The crystallization kept on spreading up her arms and over her body. A tear ran down her cheek before she chuckled softly - she had faith in them all. In the mortals to overcome the next threats that came their way. For someone to rise up in her place and guide those who need such. For another leader that truly understood the meaning of their actions. For a child to find a home and grow up once more.

That was her final wish.

What the Ascended saw last before her vision faded was the many who had passed before her: her parents, her grandfather, Daniel Nodal, Beth, Beros,  Izier, Aliyra, Guarger, Ramza, Heshakomeu, many clerics of old, Nienna, Blundermore, Heial, the previous Master Sages, Victoria… and many more. All waiting for her, smiling softly as they stood there. A gentle smile formed on her lips and she nodded. Her eye falling shut.

The crystals finally overcame her body and shattered, her form splintering into many small aspects of light. The teal light that was once Elvira drifted up into the sky, towards the moon while a Borealis of teal colour formed around the peaks. One by one, the specks of lights vanished away into nothing.

 Just like that, the last Master Sage and the woman who guided many was gone.

[Elvira Naromis. 2014 - 2020]

[!] Many letters would find their way to the addressed individuals [!]

Rickard

Lefkos

Vailoen

Eris Naromis

Andriel

Arik

Hiren

Meta El and Neci Solaray

Steven

Shagarath

Beranabus

Hareven

Kyral

Vas

The Ascended of Aeriel

The Paladins of Xan

OOC

It’s been a good run for both myself and Elvira, but I think it’s time I moved on from LotC and began focusing more on my life. There’s just too many issues with this server that have been raised but have never been fixed despite how many people raised them. I’ve been let down by many people fo simple things that could have been done easily, but it seems things won’t be sorted out any time soon. Sometimes its better to just move on than keep clinging to something in hopes it’ll get better.

Thank you all for everything, even if many times have caused immense stress for me and also caused me to lose friends. As said by Elvira: Live and enjoy life the fullest. We do only have one life and it should be spent more on the world outside of LotC than in here. Elvira has had her fill of life and it’s about time for her to rest after six years of playing as her. As fo me, I got a life ahead of me and I should spend it more on something worth living for, such as my dream of becoming a Cinematographer and the real life.

I’ll be contactable on discord but I hopefully won’t be returning here ever again. I hope you all have a great time and that you all stay safe!

Sincerely, 

Farryn.

          Quiet was the Soothsayer, isolated again within the dim confines of his darkened tent. A peaceful solemnity entrapped him, binding him in place where he sat as shakily he turned his palms to the sky, the matching tattoos of an eye upon each vacantly staring upward. Carefully and deliberately, his polished visor raised to peer in the same direction, quivering lips becoming agape as he allowed an ethereal trance to overcome him.

          What little torchlight that glanced across his features wavered as a sourceless wind encircled him, rattling the torn drapes of his abode and slowly causing him to stand. But still, he rose further, his feet lazily dragging upward through the air as he levitated above the ground. The Soothsayer drew in a sharp inhale as a barrage of prismatic colour invaded his sight, followed by a kaleidoscopic vision of unseen, unknowable things.

          The Soothsayer was blasted through a tunnel of shifting symbols and blindingly vibrant light, briefly glancing a thousand landscapes of alien worlds in a matter of moments, witnessing the formation of mountains and the flooding of great seas, peering into abstract forces beyond verbal comprehension and becoming totally overwhelmed by them. Blindness seemed to threaten him again as he found his mind muddled by cosmic uncertainty, having now seen what could not be known, what should not be known.

          With a prominent clap, the bestowment ceased, and a single flash of the most divinely pure white light violently thrust the Soothsayer back to his body, which slumped down hard onto the floor of his tent as his levitation abruptly subsided. He knelt on his hands and knees, pained gasping escaping his weathered lungs. He dug his wiry digits into the floor, allowing himself time for ringing in his ears to dissipate before slowly, he struggled back to his feet.

          Now, knowing what sight really meant, the Soothsayer’s narrow lips curled at their edges into a wicked smile.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdQkvVKvNHg

[/spoiler]

Blazengard and the Wandering Flames

Lore

[!] Artist’s depiction of the fight against the great wolf

Almaris, a strange land with even stranger creatures, monsters, and beasts. The first fleet to arrive on the sandy beaches of the new world had difficulties adjusting to the unfamiliar environment. The forests were thick and difficult to pass. The wildlife were not that welcoming to the intruders either, often attacking them for a quick meal. One such experience is with a small frigate’s crew consisting of people from many walks of life, including the remaining members of the Wandering Moon Adventuring Guild from Asimu’lei. Although the rag-tag crew was a mixing pot of races and creeds, they all seeked the same thing, a new home. As the ship began to unload goods onto the fresh land, the exhausted company set up camp. As the sunset twinkled onto the waves of the beach, the crewmates began to settle down for the night. Then a harrowing sequence howls erupted from the pitch darkness of the unforgiving forest. Time seemed to freeze as a towering wolf shambled out of the woods. It was almost the size of a bear and covered in scars and scratches. The beast was followed by a pack of six smaller wolves, each larger than an average wolf. The women clutched to their children and men simply gawked at the spectacle. The supposed alpha opened it’s jaws and let out a low, menacing growl. The pack then began their charge. Then some of the men stood and took arms against the encroaching threat. It was the Wandering Moon members. They drew their swords and axes and fought the oversized beasts. The battle was quick. The wolves pounced, scratched and gnawed while the men stroked, swung, and stabbed. The alpha was then sliced, and the beast retreated. The rest of the pack whimpered as they sulked back into the woods. With cheers from the onlooking crowd, the warriors raised their weapons in victory. As the pack retreated, they knocked over a banner of the Wandering Moon onto a fire, setting it ablaze. The members who gathered around the fire, inspired by the sight, they agreed to reform the Wandering Moon to the Wandering Flames to help and protect others from occurrences such as this one. As the town grew, banners of yellow and white now flew upon the fields, mines, and beaches of the developing city. This town was justly named Blazengard in the honor of that fateful night.

Blazengard

[!] Blazengard at dusk

Situated by the coast, Blazengard is the town which surrounds the guild hall of the Wandering Flames. The town's citizens are mostly adventurers of the Wandering Flames, but other citizens are welcomed. There is a shopping district which holds a hospital and smithy. The tavern is across the road from the smithy and has stables within them. While the Guildmaster of the Wandering Flames presides over the guild, Blazengard is looked over by an elected mayor who serves until they retire or disposed of. There is no proper military force in Blazengard, but in case of an attack, adventurers are tasked with the protection of the city. As the town grew, banners of yellow and white now flew upon the fields, mines, and beaches of the developing city. This town was justly named Blazengard in the honor of that fateful night.

The Wandering Flames

[!] Drawing of a Wandering Flame adventurer

The Wandering Flames are an adventuring guild which takes jobs from companies or common folk. These jobs can range from chores to killing a monster. Once the adventurer gets paid, they give the guild a small percentage of the reward. The percentage can change to fit current circumstances.

Adventurer ranks from lowest to highest:

C Rank

The base rank of the Wandering Flames. These adventurers are fresh and show potential of becoming adventurers. Requires 5 jobs completed successfully to rank up.

Sample Jobs:

 Chores, research, and petty jobs.

B Rank

The second rank of the Wandering Flames. They have shown promise and possess some level of skill. Requires 10 new jobs completed successfully to rank up.

Sample Jobs:

Guard jobs, easy monsters, caravan escorting, and jobs offered in lower ranks.

A Rank

The third rank of the Wandering Flames. These adventurers have proven competence and are well respected for their ability. Requires 24 new jobs completed successfully to rank up.

Sample Jobs:

Large groups of monsters, lost relics, bandit hunting, and jobs offered in lower ranks.

S Rank

The highest adventurer rank of the Wandering Flames, second only to the Guildmaster themself. They are paragons of skill within the guild. The S rank requires 5 new jobs completed every 3 years ((a month in real time)) to keep the rank.

Sample Jobs

Difficult monsters, hordes of monsters, lost relics, noble escorting, and jobs offered in lower ranks.

Guildmaster

Head of the Wandering Flames.

Other Ranks:

Archivist

The secretary of the guild, responsible for posting and recording jobs, and research collector. Follows the ranking structure of regular adventurers.

Traditions and Culture

[!] Artist’s depiction of the grand feast during the Feast of the Wolf

FEAST OF THE WOLF

The Feast of the Wolf is a tradition held every 3 years ((a month in real time)) celebrated with drinking, feasting, and a great hunt to remember the founding of Blazengard and the Wandering Flames. The great hunt is an event which begins the feast. Affiliates can participate in the hunting of large beasts in groups up to two. Those who bring back a beast will be rewarded, but the one who brings the largest beast will get bragging rights as “Lord of the Hunt” or “Lords of the Hunt” during the festivities. The beasts will then be taken to the chef and prepared for a grand feast which takes place soon after.

“Per’ta... please come to this one. Please.” 

She said this to herself with a thick accent, and having been alone for a while at this point.

“Please… she can’t bear to be alone.” 

The Leparda, having killed herself when she was young, only in her twenties, cried out for comfort. She had come to terms with her death, that she herself caused, yet still longed to be around someone, anyone.

“Muuna… she regrets this.” 

She, meaning herself. The spirit regretted taking her own life, her judgment having been clouded during the end of her life. Especially with having been an addict in life, and a gambler. 

“This one regrets  it all… she wishes she could take it back.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes, as she sat alone, in whatever vast ethereal plane she now spent her time at.

“...She just doesn’t want to be alone anymore!”

Pep sobbed to herself.

“She just wishes to go back, to have more time! Say sorry to her muuna! Onyx! Everyone she knew! Please!” 

The spirit pleaded, tears dripping down into her hands, with nobody to comfort her in a time of distress.

…

The soul of the Kha eventually calmed, then said to the emptiness around;

“One day, she will come back to make amends.”

“One day...”

Pep Leparda stood up, beginning to do what she usually would, trudging around the emptiness that surrounded her, sorrowful, but hoping one day... she may be able to see those she loves once more.

Life and time had not been kind to Adelith. Yet she had endured most everything that had been thrown her way. Woe to those who had been in her life, however. Some might joke that she was cursed, that some deity, bored with their own realm, had singled her out to torment for a laugh or two. Others would say she was the affliction, a curse to those who knew her, to those who had loved her or been loved by her. Seven skies know that those she loved never did meet a good fate. Endure she did. Until the death of her brother. 

The death of the love of her life, the man she had viewed as a soulmate, had crippled her in her youth. It had shattered her self image and will to live. The branch she had tried so desperately to hang herself from had broken and so she accepted her fate and endured. “Good” had been her response when told that paladins don’t often live to see old age, how eager she had been to rejoin Samuel in the afterlife. Those who knew her best would know she was never the same after his passing, even with the return of his ghost. First love is the strongest because it is new to the sufferer, pure in nature and hardest to forget because the heart values and pines for it so strongly. Adelith was no exception, and so with his death a piece of her passed on as well.

The death of someone she had grown to view as a father figure in her childhood had come as no surprise. The Scyfling war had taken Samuel, and so it was to be expected, with the bitterness to her heart, that Jack would die to it as well. Everyone, she had thought, that she cares about dies after all. The pain of his death came not from the death itself, he had lived a full life. It came from the sheer helplessness, the uselessness she had experienced as he bled out from a javelin. She had knelt mere inches from him, her own arms useless and drenched in blood from the javelin through her right and the arrow wounds to her left. Live, mister Jack, please... she had pleaded internally but her silent begging fell upon the deaf ears of death. The intention she had when she had joined the war effort was to join Sam in death, she was too scared to attempt to take her own life again after all. Instead, the outcome had been physical scars, grotesque and deformed from the method used to mend them and mental wounds she would never heal from, plaguing her mind with an affliction of unspoken grief and horror.

Both deaths had many things in common, including that she had been able to endure and move on despite the sheer agony her heart felt at every moment’s notice. The near death of Vya, done at the hand of a Gehennite, and the first murder Adelith had committed only proved to change her further. At least someone else I loved didn’t die this time. Never again. Never. She lost herself in the piano, in her chores, and later in her dedication to Xan. Lefkos’ disconnection ensured that she would never feel truly connected to the other paladins, that she had lost the only solace and true friend she had found among them, for, to her, there was no way the others could understand her past or those she had cared about. Yet she continued to follow the Sunlit path, becoming indoctrinated further into their ways of life. This would lead to the grief that she would never shake.

I may be a monster but I won’t be the one to cut their own sibling down. Those words, the last words David had said to her before his suicide, still haunted her. The intent had been pure, the actions and route she had taken had not however, and all actions have their consequences. With his death, so too had their mother killed herself, and with their deaths, so too did their father follow them to the grave within two years' time. The birth parents she abhorred, their deaths, didn’t sting. The loss of her older brother, who she had always adored, who had been the only member of their family to seek her out, however… that death had simply been too much for her to bear. With his passing, so too did she lose the adoptive family she was raised by. Vya, who had adopted Addie when she was but a mere eight years old, found it too difficult to love the forever difficult to love child, needing her space and distance in a time when Adelith needed comfort the most, distanced herself from the girl for perhaps too long. Their reunion and acceptance of each other later on never did feel as genuine as it had before, to Adelith at least. 

Whatever deity had found their pleasure in torturing her was not done yet, however. It never was. Sam had disappeared soon after Lefkos’ disconnection, the reason had never made itself known to Adelith but it left her devastated all the same. With time, as with most things, she did her best to move on. She had a child with Cassius, the birth of which nearly killed her, yet both she and baby had survived by some miracle. Or curse. She never did fully recover from it, perhaps some internal damage had marred the young woman, not that there would be a way to confirm. Infection was her downfall. The arrival of her father to meet his grandchild, good intentioned by Hillith, had led to Adelith fleeing with said baby in tow. No, she had thought, I won’t let you bring that dragonkin sympathizing monster around my child. The travel left her ragged and with a horrific infection. 

And so here comes the lull to the Yung Merc’s tale. Death was not yet kind enough to let her into its rest, to allow her to join Xan in his realm. Vyranni would be her home for now, perhaps some day she would recover, return to Arcas with her son. For now, however, the skeletal frame, nearly unrecognizable as the once strong Adelith, ventured off to join her great great great uncle Gaius and his side of the family in the same land her mother had been sent away from some 40 or so years ago, to recover from wounds unseen and things unspoken of. 

Several letters would be left in places known only to those who they were left for. Most were written shakily, short in nature on account of her unhealthy state upon their writing. ((Aka this information cannot be treated like in-character knowledge just because you read it on my post, unless your character’s name is on it, or the person shares it with your character. Not that any of them are sensitive in nature, really.))

Vya:

Anduin: 

Mael’ead: 

Cassius: 

Lucia:

David:

Storm:

Sam:

-x-

((Not my art, obviously. It’s from pinterest.))

-x-

-x-

There once was a time when I was a girl
That darkness hunged in my sky
I was old before I learned to be young
Stone cold till I learn how to cry

And the weeds in the ground have grew up through my skin
It's taking a lonesome girl's heart
I will go where the stolen roses grow
To forget that I have fell apart

The thorns on the roses cut through my skin
The vultures flew down and then pecked
What lay on the surface was a tiny crack
And below was a gigantic wreck
So I held my head down and I dealt with the blows
In hope that I'd soon be free to go where the stolen roses grow
To forget all the bad memories

-x-

Obviously its not a pk post:

I just don’t feel like appealing.

At least, not for now, anyways.

Her story warranted a departure.

 -A tale as old as time-

Almost two hundred years after the fall of the Bastion and the disappearance of Mordring, Ghamul the Wraithlord retreated into the dark depths of the world, mad and alone it watched from the shadows as the undead slowly disappeared from the realm and so after being forgotten, Ghamul finally drew his last breath and was laid to rest in an unmarked grave.

Recently, the creature’s tales have reached the emerging necromancers and a pact was made and from the unknown corners of Arcas, evil stirred once more, hungry for revenge.

[!]

Within the cold tundra, stalked a being who was cloaked and worn in both posture and depiction. With crisp licks of air that pervaded his nostrils, small huffs of vapor made their escape from beneath his veiled presentation with every passing breeze of snow and draft that whistled through the thistle. Long had it been since this personage had ventured to barren land, yet with his movements the songs of nature that once surrounded him fell silent and within his hand rested an old staff, crafted through beastialized arts of yore which it’s very presence caused the scarce flora to retreat below the snow which layered the coarse and frozen ground like icing on a celebratory cake. Something had changed within the man, not sinister nor with the intent of malice in his heart, but a new purpose given to him by a Crow in prior years. The being came into the realization that he had continued the mission given to him but became complacent in his enforcement. “The wheel shall continue to turn, we Widu shall act as the spokes supporting it as the cycle turns eternally through time. Those who do nothing for its restoration are as good as dirt beneath beaten boots.” The man huffed out through the cold to five or six others who followed him through the badlands of the northern landscape. Eventually they would move into a clearing where there stood many similar groups to their own, then departing into the opposite tree-line. A new task had begun, the wheel that had once remained dormant, began to creak again, the cycle beginning anew.

Thur' sna brikas, al' new zubguglar ordek.  Yofuul  undere kknotos, du' cycle muz  kuram restorurk'

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33k63cuxrVo]

A soft, salty breeze rolled in from the eastern shores, bearing a gentle melody which weaved through the shingles of wood and bronze which hung about the bay, arousing their soft chimes within the seaside hamlet. And there, amidst the deep crepuscule, sat a single scarlet tent, one which held within a dim, enchanting golden light which beckoned on forth those who might gaze upon it. A single woman lay within the tent, nigh deathly still; a musty haze surrounding her, threatening to engulf her very form akin to some foggy beast. After a brief moment, she looked up from her ruminations, ascending gradually from her bed of dirt and tattered cloth to move towards a flickering candle within the center of the room. She was an aged woman of obscure lineage, her garbs torn and caked in mud, the woman adorned in sundry beads and baubles which left one beguiled, not by charm or resplendency -- but confusion and bewilderment. 

The woman brought herself to the dying ember which flickered desperately upon the fading wax, cupping her sinewy hand around it as she extinguished it with a soft exhale; plunging the hut into darkness. 

All around was now silent, not even the whispered utterings of the wind made to penetrate the tent as the woman sat herself within its center, donning a veil which was black as the night itself; eyes concealed behind its impregnable shroud. Now the witch was ready, her breath made trembling as she sat within the darkness and stillness of her tent. Shadows danced around her, forming a tenebrious screen which so engulfed her mind. And with a final gasp, the woman was made null to that which lingered around her, now plunged into what some might believe a dream -- but rather a nightmare.

A great marsh lie below, veiled by a thick, impermeable mist from which cryptic whispers echoed. Her mind whirled, the witch sent plummeting into the mist beneath -- the cloud swirling about to reveal a gaping aperture within the abyss which consumed her, casting her down amidst a dark and deep tunnel which awaited the woman hungrily. Twists and curves of tenebrosity writhed within, tearing at both mind and soul as the fated woman mourned and pleaded her clemency; yet they did not spare her, for they too wailed and screeched in cries of wicked cachinnation, unseen. It seemed as ages where her mind was tormented by these wretched things, never again to witness the dawn of day nor perceive the embrace of warm flame.

Yet amidst her anguish, fate didst smile upon her, bearing the woman reprieve after many long nights where she was tormented by the beasts of ebonflame and darkness. The sky swirled overhead, pulled like a curtain over the blackened abyss -- a space made with naught but the dusk and lingering twilight. Stars glistened like diamonds within the veil, the woman astonished as light whirled by her as some fleeting dislmn. And now, what may have seemed a perpetual unsight, true clarity were granted to the woman, for within the dotted horizon rose a looming figure of inexplicable being, bearing numerous eyes which within lie destinies incomprehensible to even the witch herself.

It gazed upon her, the woman undone as she looked upon the great, ever-present being which seemed to encompass all within its diming reach. The entity brought forth one of many arms, procuring from the abyss that which seemed as a tenebrous water, congealed within a spherule globe, hence offering it to the woman as if some delicate babe -- and so she received. All were then made to dwindle, the stars waning as the woman was cast back into the gaping abyss  from whence she came, ascending once again over the thick smog and quag which had first met her vision.

With a start she brought herself to awaken, surrounded by the perpetual shade. Peculiarity came about as the woman felt within her hands the bleary orb which had been gifted by the profane darkness which she had communed with in the fleeting instance prior. She dared not press its power, but it had not deemed so, for in an alien motion it pulled itself forth like some crooked metal, its sheen visible faintly despite the lack of light. The object warped, seeping great waves of misgiving and restlessness within the woman, its gloaming surface nigh impenetrable by her veiled sight as it came to rest within the charm set about her neck; imbedding within it engravings which bore enigma and falsity.

And deep within the woman, seeded fallacy came to fruition; and she knew that this gift was one to be used well, for now she belonged to that greater than any she may have dreamed -- yet she knew not what horrid thing now withheld her spirit.

((Credit to @Covey for the awesome RP that led up to this.))