Shmeepicus

A learned scholar, perplexed by the words he had just read, wrote a reply. "To the 'Patriarch' of Novellen- it would seem you do not know history as well as you would think. When the second civil war, orchestrated by your ancestors constant need for expansionism and control concluded- all the known kin of this defunct King vanished into thin air- save perhaps one or two. As such, the Kingdom of Balian- by and large still standing due to feats of good administration rather than warmongering, took up the mantle as Patriarch of Novellen, given that all men of Frederick's line were presumed dead or rather, were missing for many long years. The line of Frederick never really amounted to much- it ruled over a defunct state for a period of fifteen years before collapsing to it's own vassals. Treachery begets treachery I suppose. Frederick Aurelian- an author of this misive and whomst I presume is one of the lost sons- fled and was not seen for many years. Besides being stripped of all titles, the family was also stripped of both nobility and royalty, nothing more than mere peasants. It is difficult to be Patriarch of a Royal or Imperial house if you are not of noble blood- and clause seven of the missive entitled 'ORENIA DIRUTA EST' clearly stated that any of King Frederick's line were revoked of such privilege. It would appear that this brood of Stassion does not know history as well as one would think. Furthermore- if we are applying monikers- perhaps Frederick Aurelian would be deemed, Frederick Aurelian 'the Cowardly'- for his fleeing of the heartlands and many years spent in hiding." Signed, Dzmitry Barrow

Harassment or a malicious spreading of rumours to disrepute an individual or individuals should be included on this list I feel. Otherwise, good post.

Exactly what I was looking to hear, thanks Spoopy!

In that case- if you have an answer, I would also be curious to know what attempts Moderation would make to prevent settlements from just logging off or clearing out as soon as they get a raid notice. I know some settlements enjoy the Pv- I mean MRP they get and would be more than willing to stay for a fight. However I'd agree that raids would then need some form of IRP knowledge- or clearing out could be considered metagaming, no? Something akin to the watchtower thing that was mentioned earlier. Is there a possibility of a command being able to be made? E.g. I am in a raiding party about to raid Haense. Perhaps there is the possibility of a command where you'd type /raid Kingdom_of_Haense or the realm name, and anyone apart of that realm in the realm plugin gets a notification in their chat bar, mentioning a raiding force being spotted on the Kingdom's border or some sense. I'm not super tech savvy so I'm not sure how feasible that is, just a thought though.

I'd assume knowing a raid is coming and logging off to avoid it would be grounds for combat-logging (without reason- if someone has to dip to eat dinner or go to work, I'd hope that'd be okay). If you look at some war raid rules that occurred in Almaris- people would actually rally up for a fight. While it isn't much different than just having a skirmish (besides bragging rights)- it at least makes it so cities and nations aren't being raided at 10-11 PM at night just for some poor fleepers to have to do capture RP for 2 hours without possibly having a defence. It worked for war raids last map I don't see why it wouldn't here with proper observation.

Probably the most coherent and well put post on this entire thread. Nectorist hit the nail on the head but you drove it into the board. I don't think I said anywhere that the server was bad. I said the server and rules could still do with improvement. Good chance they will always need improvement. As another player who joined in that era- I can agree with you and say that the server is in a much better spot now than it was then- but my point stands, things will always need fixing. That's just how it works. You will appease one part of the community and in that action upset another.

You pretty much hit the nail on the head- but just because things aren't as bad now as they were years ago, doesn't mean they couldn't do with some improvement.

alright bro not with this shit again please

This is kinda dope fr fr

LOL

↬ Discord: shmeepicus ↬ Skin Name(s): Squire Fella ↬ Bid(s): 20 Skin goes crazy.

An elder appeared shocked as the now grown man entered the Seven Skies. "So soon?" He queried. "I remember when you visited as a boy, so young and full of life." Was the statement given, having welcomed his grandfather to the Heavens a number of years prior. "It matters not, Henry- does it? You served Aaun well- and now, truly, you might find rest and peace." Alexander offered, a small smile forming over his face. "You were a good Prince- a great Prince."

Kristof Katzak brews beer in some distant land- a peasant runs to the door and delivers the news. "From home, ja? Wow... this ist crazy!"

just this. > Was killed in Cnor when they weren't allied with Adria for asking where prisoners were- a fellow compatriot drew his blade and was cut down- then they turned to me (unarmed) and just emoted killing me w/out any further RP- literally "stabs in back" with maybe 12 extra flavour words

where was my honourable mention 😡

Alexander approached Charlie as he entered the Seven Skies and gave him a hug. "We did our part- peace, at last. Hopefully our successors might maintain it. You did your duty- and you did it well."

A Katzak chuckled as he did the griddy around a fire. "From Princes to Dukes- what a reward."

MRA was such a sick storyline and group and the dudes that spearheaded it did it to provide a great experience for every1 involved. As long as it's in the nature of story-telling and rather than to be an ******* I always approve. MRA were Goats.

By This Sign, You Shall Conquer ___ The Lands of Balian prior to their Settlement Art by Anu Pattern on Artstation ___ THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Dust fell off the door- and Alexander glanced over at it, playing with toy soldiers in the corner. His mother, Gwyneth, passed him with a loving touch on his head. “Whom is it?” “Open the door, Gwyneth.” He recognized that voice immediately, his father, John. “Just give me a moment.” His mother replied as the deadbolt was unfastened- and the door quickly surged forth, “Pack your belongings, we need to leave- NOW.” John demanded, Alexander glanced about- somewhat confusedly.. he was after all a boy of four. “What’s the hurry?” His mother asked curiously. “Prince Frederick has usurped the throne of the Empire and deemed any who oppose him traitors.” He retorted quickly- an overpowering tone of anger and defiance present in his voice. ___ Three months had passed and they had consisted of the same gray stained walls. Every few days a soldier would shout for the gates to open- and then they would. Alexander met the Emperor during this period, as Peter stepped past him and crouched down. “How fair you, cousin? I know these times are hard- but do not worry, we have always pulled through.” His kind and soft voice offered the young boy some reassurance- but reassurance was all it was. ___ Another few weeks had passed- and his Father was there again, “Pack your belongings, Alexander. The Duke Ivan’s men have finished their construction of Reutov- for now we will remain there, and the Emperor intends to hold court there on the ‘morrow.” Alexander never once argued- he quickly packed his things, as he was so used to doing and trailed behind. He was never someone important, at least, he was never meant to be. Just another ‘Prince’ of Oren- despite being a few times removed. Perhaps he would have been a martial man- yet fate did not intend it. A few days after the town's completion- Reutov fell, Royalists stormed the walls and took the Emperor hostage- and a large levy was rallied to rescue him and simultaneously take hold of the city of Providence. The two sides clashed- and Alexander, spared during the raid of Reutov, survived. His father was severely wounded- and would walk with a limp for the rest of his life- but they lived. The now King Frederick allowed the survivors to leave peacefully, as they boarded boats and sailed South, though their tribulations and struggles would not end there. ___ The haunting sounds of water lapping at the hull of the ship kept Alex awake- he did not like the water. A boy now six- he simply kept to the Captain’s quarters of the ship they sailed, very rarely peeking out the windows at its port-side. The star guided them yet the storm raged ever on- first it was one ship, then two- lost to the depths of the Kahaen Sea. Yet a single star shined brighter than the rest in the sky- and John was convinced it would lead them to respite- and so, their travel continued, rations of food and fresh water low.. the ships continued onward. Another few days had past- they had completely exhausted whatever rations they had brought with them- and trudged now through the red wastes of the Southern continent on Almaris. The exiled populace of what was the Empire found them exerting whatever energy they had left to climb the peak- and there they made their camp. Morning came- and Alexander could feel the dryness- the young boy's lips were cracked and his mouth devoid of any moisture- as he smacked his lips and sat up from the bedroll he laid upon. The day passed and scouts returned with the unfortunate information that there was no freshwater near- not for a good dozen miles at least- and they did not have it within them to make it that far. Yet- in the dark night sky above them- the star of St. Lothar appeared to grow brighter, to some appearing in the form of a cross- and the ground trembled. Tents fell and Alexander was flung to his feet- when water began to rush forth from a fissure in the mountain side, pooling in a depression in the ground at the mountain’s roots. Balian- in this miraculous moment- was born.. and Alexander took on an entirely new role as the Grand Duchy’s heir. — Alexandros- Alexander’s name in the newly-written language of the Balianese, had walked out into the square to see a commotion of men from the Harvest Accord- namely men of Acre, Minitz and others- gathered around one of Balian’s peers, he saw a familiar face, Charles Alstion- and approached him. “What’s happening?” He asked, prodding Charles- an old friend, close in age to Alexandros, he had also been a citizen of Balian for much of its fledgling years. “The Baroness of Acre- for some reason, wants this Galbraith. Supposedly he tried to murder her children?” The Prince of Alstion replied, Alexandros’ face scrunched up then- as he approached the armed retinue and tried to cease whatever hostilities were going on- but that was not before a large force of Haeseni and Dwarvish forces showed up and demanded the men of the Harvest Accord lay down their arms. A tense standoff ensued- before finally they were ordered to drop their weapons by Aloisia herself- and that they did. King Karl III turned the prisoners over to Alexandros- as John wasn’t present and he experienced one of his first, defining moments. Many wished for him to kill Aloisia- and he thought he would, until Uhtred, one of her Knight’s, pleaded with Alexandros to spare her life. He thought heavily on it- and in the end her life was spared with all the men of the Harvest Accord being afforded the right to leave but not return to Balian. ___ So many events followed- the formation of Aaun, the Summit in Karosgrad, the formation of the Kingdom of Balian, the death of his father, John I, the Atrus Covenant, the Siege of Cloudbreaker, the many treaties and pacts signed in between and then, towards the end of his reign, the Adrian Rebellion and the subsequent formation of the Canonist League. Yet Alexander came down with some heinous disease- and its tendrils sprawled over him during the course of two years. Much of the Kingdom’s administration had been left up to Hadrian and Gaius- as Alexander was bedridden. ___ Ledicort gave him his last rites- as he laid there in that bed. “I hope that God welcomes me into his realm- I did my best to maintain peace amongst the realms of men- and peace we had for many long years.” He wondered aloud, glancing over at Ledicort with a weak smile. “I’m sure he will, teur Majesty- you ruled with piety and you were just. If I have it my way- that shall be your moniker, Alexander ‘the Just’.” “The Just..” Alexander echoed the words, “yes- perhaps. I served as well as I could have- you must guide Hadrian- you may no longer be in our council- but your words still hold weight.” He offered, Ledicort simply offered a nod of his head. “Is there anything I can do for teu, before I go?” He asked, placing a hand on Alexander’s arm. “Find my children, please, I am not long for this world.” The Priest left- and Alexander laid in the bed, glancing at the ceiling. His eyes felt so heavy- it was a monumental feat to resist the urge to go to sleep. He wondered- had he been a good King? Was there more that he could have done? Of course there was- his voice spoke back to him in his head. No man is perfect- and there will always be things we could have done differently- that would have perhaps had a better outcome. Yet you did the best you were able- and perhaps that is what constitutes whether a King is good or not. His final moments to be alone with his thoughts- and his mind raced wondering about what if’s or what could have been. An hour perhaps passed- and the door opened. Hadrian entered and sat down beside the bed and talked with him. They spoke of his new child on the way- his plans for the future- and his continuing studies in the art of alchemy. Then came Lydia, who couldn’t help but try to offer some solution to this unfortunate disease. As if there was one- fate was funny that way, cruel or kind- yet never both. Elena was the last, snappy as always- as she barked at a nearby guard for speaking as if Alexander was already dead. She offered the same as Lydia- futile solutions, but Alexander was already too far gone. Familiar faces came and went, Sarrin Isilioleth, Albert Novellen, Persephone, Lujain, King Georg of Haense, Gaius, Andromeda, all wishing their best and saying their goodbyes. And as they all left- and he was left alone with his children, Alexander laid his head down on the pillow. His laboured breaths grew softer and softer- until he took his last one, more deep than all the others. His chest rose- fell and the room grew silent. The soldier King’s blade had been sheathed for good- peace, finally found. King Alexander I, was dead. ___ King Alexander I ‘the Just’ of Balian 1861 - 1921 ___