Your Story.

[Samsan99 274]

Hello lotc today as another project we are after your lotc stories! 

 

 

Now a few rules before you get writing try to keep your stories about your character and to to keep them 200 words or less and also try to incorporate the words "I'm [name] and this is My Lord of the craft"

we want the story to introduce the character, Who they are talk about certain points in there life to have a 'theme' To it. If you don't want to post your story here feel free to PM it to me

 

The MT will pick stories and work with the writer to create them into a short video trying to keep the original theme and feel of the story.

 

 

just a short example to give you an idea

 

I am Elindor and this is MY lord of the craft

(( this is half the length it should be but its just an example ))

I'm Elindor. An elf, wizard, and senile old man. The Lord of the Craft begun for me in Aegis when all around were whispers of the horrifying actions of Iblees. Determined to learn more I journeyed across all regions of the realm and discovered many wonderful, intriguing, and sometimes magical things. I didn't play much of a role in the war as my relationship with one of the Undead kept me neutral, but when Aegis lay in ruin I realised that my inaction was at fault.

Now the Undead have returned to threaten our peace again. But this time I won't be watching quietly. Backed by the Mages Guild, and a council of the most powerful magic users in Athera, we will strike down Iblees and his followers wherever they may rise.

I am Elindor, and this is MY Lord of the Craft

 

and remember the main idea is that the story will be filmed so don't write to much or have huge scenes we want to keep it nice and short a one or two minute video of most.

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

I'm Quinlan Campbell, I'm an Adunian, trained soldier, and a father. The lord of the craft began for me in the south of Anthos, in the snowy town of Vaerhaven. Born to a w-ore mother and a neglectful father, I was raised by my uncle. At the age of 15 I killed my first wolf  and became a man in the eyes of my clan.

At the age of 19 I found my first love, Torrah Campbell. Together we lived until she was taken from me by the scourge.

At age 20 I joined the Holy Order of Saint Lucien looking for new purpose in life. With my new brothers in arms we fought off Setherien's skirmishes. At age 25 I met Ayallia. I was ready to move on, together we had two beautiful children. We later adopted a third.

Age age 40 I lost yet again, as Ayallia was killed by wildlife. I mourned, but I was ready to move on once more.

I have lived long years, fought in wars against descendant races and monsters alike. With iblees returning I will find solace in knowing that should I die, I died in attempt to give my children a safer world to live in.

I am Quinlan Campbell and this is MY Lord of the Craft

[Eleatic 1033]

I am the Dread Lord. A horrific entity born out of hatred, first made by the Blood Maegi during Asulon. I first became as an individual in the realm of Asulon, wherein I was a bard of no particular social stature, and still mortal. Conscience of my medicority, I traveled to the Druii almost twenty years later(I would note I also procrastinated a bit), in hopes of becoming at-least partly important to someone. I was inducted as a Dedicant, and I lived quite happily for many years. It was only on the eve of Anthos that any hint of my future would be decided. I returned to find myself as if in an intervention, with angry looks all around from Elven faces. Considered black of heart by the Druid Leadership, I was led to the top of a tree, and told to jump in order to prove my willingness to serve the aspects. if I wished to keep my home, and my friends as I had made them. I did.

I survived, but still, thus began my decline. I wandered the world for many years following. During these years, in an adrenaline-filled act of vengeance, I killed one of my former friends, Eiheiu, a Druid. In shame for what I had done, I wandered the world yet again for a brief period, before the ending of my life began. I sat by a road, on an evening that some would call angelic, and the Devil himself, in form of iron and rust, appeared to me and spoke the words: "Do you wish to become a god?" Yes. Blackness.  I was twisted, my body warped, my soul bound to a husk of armor, eternal pain coalesced into my mind and I knew nothing but loathing and hatred.

 

I was a slave to the Dread Lord, and one of his most loyal servants for the rest my time in this world. In Anthos, near the middle, I knew even more taint as the Harbringer Shae'Tan took my soul and warped it moreso, in an attempt to corrupt me only partially succesful. Under her tight grasp for a month, or so, the Dread Lord Rawraych defeated me in battle, and once again returned me to his service. On a day just as angelic as that of which I was converted, the Dread Lord inducted me as his successor for service and resilience in the name of my 'people'. Since then, I've served as ruler over my Knights, and strode to bring terror to the descendants. I am Verin Etitlan, and this is my Lord of the Craft. (Apologies for the length, I'm not the best at compressing information, hope that doesn't discount me).

[Porko 397]

The name's Evios Hall. I'm a Northerner Human, though I was raised in the woods near Abresi in the now sunken land of Anthos. My father was a humble woodworker, and my mother a simple saleswoman. They made enough to survive, and that was fine for us. My father taught me the ways of a woodsman, and I helped him out in his work. We lived happy, quaint lives.  However, I decided to set out on my own at the age of 17. The world held many adventures, challenges and opportunities. It was ripe for the picking. I learned the use of a sword, and the art of battle became an interest of mine. Knowledge was another, as I spent many hours in the library of Malinor. Soon, it would end.

 

The north thawed, and the sea claimed Anthos under it's violent waves. I lost my parents in the panic of the crisis. I haven't seen them since. And at the age of 23, in the new land of the Fringe, I began my military history. My first battles were alongside the House Silverblade of Oren, who became good friends of mine. My skills were honed against snow elves and dwarves, and my combat improved. 

 

The Bannermen collapsed in Thales, and I sought another way to serve Oren. I found myself as Decanus of the Imperial army, and then a Provost in the Arm of Disciplinarians in Athera. I became a fierce warrior, though I was too keen to follow orders blindly. The coup struck, and I was shocked. The Carrions seized power, and House Chivay lost it's control. Soon, the Imperial army was disbanded, and I was once again without a position. After this, I served in the short-lived Order of the Flaming Rose. Although, that too, was disbanded. 

 

My history is of conflict, armies, yet I've learned to uphold the peaceful values that I possessed back in the woods with my family in Anthos. I serve Oren, and I have sworn to do what is right, and not what is commanded. I've learned to value life, and to live with cheer. I fight when it is needed. I am Evios Hall, and this is MY Lord of the Craft. 

[Booklight12 481]

I am Beranabus Seregon, an aging high elf striving for peace amongst all. And this is my Lord of the Craft story. As a young man in the beginnings of Anthos I found love, though it was not to last. I had a home, though it was not to last... I even had peace.. Though that too, was not to last either. There was some sort of curse my friends joked about.. Heh. All those around me died, mostly painful deaths.. My first wife, second, my brothers at arms. All died. Suicide, war. All those things drove me to a deep depression that consumed most of my life. My children, alcohol, and the touch of women being the only things that kept me alive.. Though, an epiphany had finally come over me and I strove to find my true self, who I really was. Having since learnt of the realm that is called the void. I found a type of peace in my life that I could meditate upon. Having more and more friends, people I can trust, my family picking up.Even finding numerous teachers and masters that had guided me to find my true potentials in life, finally.. It is what I had always wanted... And so those are my goals, to spread the peace that I have finally found after that darkness, sharing my teachings with all especially in these desperate times with the second coming of Iblees.. Though one thing that has taken me my entire life to finally understand.. Is that there will always be light at the end of the tunnel. It is just a matter of getting there..

 

Will you?

[LPT 771]

I am the late George Blackwell, an old Human Count and leader of a Military order that vowed it's self to protection to the Scourge in Anthos. My starting life was never much for nobility, my father left House Greymane because of their corrupt view on politics and started what is currently known as House Blackwell, at the age of 16 I was simply a pawn of my father, he threw me into the city guard so that he may gain influence within the city of Abresi, I soon began to find the same joy my father did in politics, once my father died I set up a meeting with Heinrich Carrion to finally become an official  house of Oren. In this meeting my political strategy of offering the king too much wine worked in my favor and I convinced the drunk King Heinrich Carrion to offer me a small Barony known as Ager. With a few years of planning and military gain I proposed an offer to House Winter which granted me a keep and the title Count of Norfolk-Ager, not long after my body began to fall apart do to a rare disease known as leprosy. I may be dead but MY Lord of The CRaft legacy lives on  within the patrons of House Blackwell, to this date my name is spoken within the Blackwell history.

[Kardel 1054]

I am Kardel Irongut, and this is MY Lord of the Craft.

 

Short enough?

[- Pastry 931]

I, reader, am Ikur Seregon. Throughout my youth I served and soldiered for the various regimes and governments of the Elves, but to this day I have never found myself a true citizen of any. I was born into the decline of the Princedom of Malinor as a spry and pure High Elf, and upon reaching the age of twenty-two enlisted in the Lumi'drim. The Lumi'drim that barely sufficed as the guard-force of a dying principality. I ended my career in the Lumi'drim alongside the rest of my countryelves: expatriated and homeless. Granted, I proudly walked from the ruins of New Malinor with the spoils of my time spent: good standing with the rising Conclavian government and its military, knowledge of the forbidden art of Anti-Magic, Fi'hiiran'tanya, and two terrible burn scars that would mar what would be a handsome visage until the present day.

 

My story marches on, for I am Ikur Seregon, and this is MY Lord of the Craft. 

[Elindor 666]

I am Kardel Irongut, and this is MY Lord of the Craft.

 

Dude. Way too long.

[monkeypoacher 8055]

I am, or was, Tyrnal Grayleaf. Born a fairly average dark elf in Vaerhaven, I did not experience much hardship in my younger years. I wanted to be a Knight when I grew up, but apparently dark elves can't do that and it just turned out to be a huge waste of time. I met the love of my life in Abresi at 16, her name was Yfandas Oussana. The other Oussanas did not really take a shine to me as I was raised by Dwarves. I tried to kill someone who was bothering her with a sling once but I hit myself in the face with the rock and almost fell into the Malinor well.

Yfandas disappeared for a long while so I joined the Arcane Delvers. I worked as a blacksmith, or artificer (that's a stupid word!) and a gem cutter. I got by pretty well and I met a pretty dark elven woman named Delilah. We had a one night stand and then she ran off and died in the wilds. It was a shame. I met Yfan again when I was 20 but I was too busy to strike up a meaningful conversation so we just hugged awkwardly as friends and parted ways. She was lured Into a cave by Goroth Klaren and murdered shortly after.

I spent the rest of my life carving a path of revenge against the traditional Dark Elves. I murdered Z'ress Oussana at an altar and sold her corpse to Orenians, then fled for Abresi and then Urguan, where I fought as an auxiliary against Malinorians and Oreners. I became friends with a woman named Sha Grayhammer who hired me as her butler or something. She died and I went crazy and starved in a cave. I am Tyrnal Grayleaf and this is my Lord of The Craft.

[Rig 17581]

My name is Aegor Mithras Sylvari, cleric, ex-psychopath, one time mage, and inventor of a dozen inventions and gadgets, my journey began in Aegisian Ravenhold, the time of my birth long lost to me now.

I was raised by a mother whom worked late, I lived practically among the other elven children, made fun of for the concepts of my early intelligence. The unintentional negligence of my mother led me many adventures, pick pocketing and even taking jobs as early as fourteen human years of age.

My very origin is one that makes the pure spit, and the needy amazed. Tales of fortune, slimey and sickly cowardice, and acts of both benevolence and malevolence have forged me, a burning crucible, into the cleric I've become.

I fought in the first war, the Undead War. An orenian militant of the king, I served until unneeded, in the Verge I lurked, studying my books and potions.

Upon hitting Asulon I had begun what I had hated as a concept, a smashed victim of slavery, one whom suffered under the Mori'quessir, I was turned feral by their ways, the ways of the dark, my skin turned grey and my eyes turned red.

Upon heading to Anthos after many years and a lucky escape, I became what I scorned, a murderer, an emotionless form of myself, a split mind of a rogue, miscellaneously evil emotion or two: Jealousy and Hatred, putrid in their words and meaning, impaled my heart, and led me down the path of useless conniving power grabbing.

Long past these times I look with regret, I am Aegor Sylvari, and this is my lord of the craft.
 

[Divinae 32]

I wanted to do a version of this written entirely in an Auvergian accent, but I think anyone reading would murder me slowly. If you would like to imagine it's in a very heavy French accent, go nuts. <3

 

I am Ciera Lefevre: tavern owner, lover of knowledge, cunning, persistent, woman, and human.

My arrival in Thales was not warm--in fact, the opposite. A great frost took the land, and if I was not already stricken, harried, and hungry, it only made my grievance worse… but not even the harsh, eternal winter would not freeze the kind hearts of strangers. A woolen cloak, a vial of medicine, good food… all given with bright smiles. These things kindled a small light of hope in my own frozen heart, giving me a reason to persevere on.

However, my worries these days have little to do with bitter cold.

Shadows threaten all I hold dear. My home, my friends, my love… all tangled in sinister threads spun by Descendant hearts. I have watched those I love pay for the sins of others, in blood and broken spirit. Looming above all, the greatest evil, rising from his prison to cast darkness upon the world.

When one lights a candle in a dark room, no matter how small the flame, even the shadows must flee. My hope will be the beacon that pierces the darkness. I may only be one, but I will protect those I love, and prevail for those who cannot find the strength to fight for themselves. My hearth is a sanctuary, my heart is my strength, and my wit a weapon.

I am Ciera Lefevre, and this is MY Lord of the Craft.

 

 

[Mephistophelian 977]

I am...good question, who am I? Mage, scholar, lover, cruel killer and careful caretaker. I guess those could sum me up. Lorien Vesitza is my name, and it has been for a quite a while.

Born a High Elf, I am a living embodiment of ‘impurity’...and I am not ashamed of it. A seeker of magic since birth, I now wield the arcane arts and prove to be a fearsome force in conflicts; a stalwart ally and a foe that one would best avoid. But, like all who chase the light and warmth of the fire which is magic, I have been burnt. My frail body, now a husk of its former self, has receded into the shadows to lick its wounds...but the umbra did no good. A valuable lesson was learnt during this time; those with whom you acquaint yourself might not always be there to help you.

Burnt by both the flame and the shadows, I am no longer the Lorien, meek and innocent, from Asulon. No, I have forged my own path, breaking from the well-trodden route of the everyday mage. Iblees has crawled back from its hole, and I’ll be damned if I let that pitiful creature destroy all that I love. What better a way to fell the arch-daemon with its own, foolishly given gift?

I am Lorien, and this is MY Lord of the Craft.

[Googlesearch 141]

My name is Sonn Ander...and this is an old man's Lord of The Craft. I have lived long for a human, 97 years if the current count is correct. However my extended use of magic has left me weak and frail, My life is escaping me quicker than one would hope. The beginning...I was a Salvian, A shield to be precise. At the tender age of 17 I began fighting for House Hightower. Then came the great fall of Salvus and with it I fell too.

 

I wandered the world for several years until the Era of the Five Kings. First I served as a miner for Adunia, My great skill (Mining respawn predictions) I was able to harvest large quantities of iron and supply the kingdom. In return for my good service I was made a Baron and progressively into a Count. However nobility was not for and so at age 24...ish I conceded the last lands of Adunia to House Carrion. Then came the time when I spent time working in Abresi with my friend and servant Elmore Gates. His own skill in mining was far beyond mine. This meant we were able to sell the iron and make thousands of minas over night. However like all rich men I lacked something...that something was magic. At age 27 my mentor and friend Sertorious Khagan came to me with a book, A book the likes of which I have not seen before or since. The scent of the ink still hangs in my memory. That is the day I took my greatest step. That is the day I became a mage.

 

70 years have passed since then and as I feel my strength waning I regret only one thing, I do not have enough time...I need more time.

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

I guess I'll do another one

 

I am Artimec Camoryn, I am many things, none of which I am proud of.

I have lived, loved, learned and lost. I have made choices that have both saved and condemned others, more often the latter.

I was born into a poor family, an elven family in human lands. We didn't have much, but we made do.

When I was a young man I moved to a town called Crestfall, it was there I was roped into a guild called the Arcane Delvers, and the rest is history. From that point I was practically raised by a wise if not somewhat senile dark elven mage, Polgrath. He taught me almost everything I know.

We were thrill seekers. Polgrath seeked secrets obsessively and often times we were put in harm's way. I've killed everything from trolls to megalodons for what seem like menial treasures and keepsakes.

When I was older I led a war party of mages and elves into battle against the White Rose to halt their expansion into our land. We feared for our lives and families. The war was indecisive, but we lost many lives. I saw much depravity and I was never the same to be sure.

Soon our enemies disbanded, only to have new ones form in it's place. I had finally found peace in life after founding a town for my people, wood elves, in Lenniel. The scourge saw fit to burn it to the ground, I am ashamed to say I fled. But I will not say I did so for the wrong reasons. I had a wife and young son to keep alive.

Some call me a drunk, a dirty void mage, a traitor or a fool. I am all of those things and more. However I have patience. Soon the people whom hold disdain for me will be gone like grains of sand in the wind. I have centuries to live and the return of Iblees is just another hardship I must endure.

 

I am Artimec Camoryn and this is MY lord of the craft.