Bonito

this amendments a bit pointless with ooc consent, players just ask to get their app denied when they really wanna drop a magic. letting necromancers retire from a life of murder and evil is weird. if anything, it should be more punishing if it requires ooc consent, not less. the "but my slots :(" arguments make no sense, if you want something else just make a new character and move on. nobody can force anyone to play a magic.

It's important to give context to these places you visited. Adria was a different place in Almaris. It was on a highly active road and there was an effort to bring noobs and strangers into their community. Many nations this map don't even open their gates. Why talk to the random who might disrupt the perfectly safe and curated roleplay experience? I'd say most of this is an observation on the state of roleplay more than gender bias (but its there). A lot of players simply wait to be emoted at, or log on just to legitimize decisions made on discord. To give my own observations, several times this map I've walked up to strangers and emoted at them only for them to parkour away or give some excuse in ooc as to why they weren't going to respond (roleplaying on a roleplay server????). Also want to mention that it is medieval fantasy. What does a wizard have in common with a child? People will generally engage with the unique qualities of a character. The brave knight is going to want to save the little princess, not discuss strategy or recruit them for the military, and I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that. It gives people the chance to change or challenge beliefs, generating interactions, good and bad! The issue is when biases spill outside the game. Your observation on ooc treatment are the most interesting to me. The first women characters I ever played came around because I wanted to get attacked less (it worked) but I also ended up getting invited to a lot more roleplay, friend groups, and the first magics I would ever learn. A few years later, and you've had a very different experience. I don't really have an answer for why we were treated so differently, but my theory is the growing tribalism on here.

this isnt the satyr write -1

its /names

remove its use in what way? Making a rule punishing players now seems like a waste of time when the mod admin has shown that they can outright prevent words like "pvp" from being sent at all. Would rather admins blacklist slurs that way and maybe have a message that notifies the person why their emote wasnt sent, so the tired excuse of "erm i didnt know oopsie!" stops being a thing completely. but an admin claiming we lose nothing from banning slurs and then not banning them says a lot lmao. forcing the community to do yet another post to gauge if enough people care or if the mod admin can keep enabling racists for no reason doesnt make me hopeful

this is dope!! great work

does this mean horse whistles and /breakdown are gonna work again

Hail Reader, I find myself on the cusp of a great discovery in the realms of life and death. To achieve such marvel in my lifetime is a blessing surely, but let me tell you why you should care: My magnificent work has come to a crashing halt, but I have calculated a solution. This plan of mine requires three laboratory assistants who are more curious than judgemental, eager to work, and are not discomforted at the sight of blood. This is where you come in, reader. A chance for glory the likes of which you have only dreamt, and of course, a reasonable 15 mina payment for your labors. I am only searching for three, and one of those could be you! If you feel yourself a diamond in the rough, please mail a reply to the Latham Residence answering the following questions: What is your name? What is your age? How many friends do you have? Be specific. What is your experience assisting brilliant scholars? What is your level of education? What is the most impressive thing you have ever seen? Be specific. The three winners will receive a letter in response! Best of luck, Benedict Latham

despite the turbulence, the rp you generated was some of the most fun i’ve had on the server, and your dedication to minecraft terror that didnt center around pvp or being a sociopath on discord is rare and appreciated i don’t think anyone’s avoided falling into the trap of the highschoolification of lotc to some degree, so it’s great to step away and smell the non pixelated roses. have fun, learn stuff, and find something that fills the hole this place can leave

Discord: kujowastaken Skin Name: Green Aristocrat Bid: $25

Hello, I made an lotc modpack a while back that I've been continuously updating over the months. They are mainly performance and QoL changes to make playing on this hellhole a little better. A lot of people liked it and I don't want to keep sending links all the time so I am putting it here so it can be easily accessed by anyone. I've attached a drive folder containing the various fartpacks as well as a guide explaining installation, the mod list, and setting up. All you need to install yourself is Fabric. I highly recommend using a different launcher like MultiMC or Prism because the default mc launcher is kinda poop. https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1PfABVn6UA0CfzZ5YSP9gMvA47FWvq-ie?usp=sharing

The Emberglade A region of sweltering heat and a vast presence of wildlife, the Emberglade is a reminder that nature is not something to be trifled with. Here lay the bones and fossils of creatures that once were, and hidden still, what survived in the dark. The Expanse Towards the southeastern province sits a wide area of land that stretches before the eyes. The savannah: a vast grassy plain bathed in golden hues. The tall grasses sway and paint a landscape of green and yellow that extends across the terrain. They form a lush, undulating ecosystem that rolls and dips towards the horizon. Scattered across the savannah are groupings of trees, solitary or in small clusters. Their trunks and branches are adorned in thorns and foliage, providing sporadic patches of shade. These and the steep, stone hills break the monotony of the grassy expanse. The savannah is home to what’s expected, with zebras and gazelles grazing the fields and elephants lumbering through the land. Ostriches, with their long necks and powerful legs, strut across the plains while predators blend into the surroundings. Lions may be spotted resting beneath the tree shade, and cheetahs slithering through the grass. Towards the north, near the hills, one can hear hyena calls bounce off stone. Here the expectations end. Among the native animals linger the remnants of a forgotten voyage: animals from the cold north to the sweeping jungles. Forever displaced, it is not uncommon to spot a Rimetroll wandering through a gathering of hippos or a rhinoceros trading blows with a minotaur. Above, the sky stretches wide and blue, interrupted only by clouds drifting by. Seasons here do not occur as they typically do. There are no summers or winters, but instead wet and dry seasons. This is observed in the terrain. During the wet season, the grasses are lush and vibrant, reflecting a deep green color that blankets the land. In contrast, the dry season brings a transformation. The grass withers and goes golden, creating a stunning contrast against the clear blue sky. A Fragmented Kingdom Many moons ago, a fleet of merchant vessels departed from Vectra on a journey to Aeldin. The Dragon’s Egg Alliance, a guild of merchants who specialize in exotic creatures, was transporting a wide variety of animals when they were caught in a hateful storm that swept them off course for seven days. They shipwrecked on Aevos, but the lucky ones were swallowed by the sea. It was here on the savannah that the surviving merchants and their wares landed; beasts of every size and shape, from the winged and scaled to the hairless and pale. It was decided by the merchants they would come back for their game after being rescued, but the ships never came. Before long, no amount of gold could save them from the hunger of their animals. The greedy men were made meals by the creatures they had stolen from their homes, but their mistake would not end with them. To this day, many of the same creatures and their cubs roam the land, disrupting the delicate ecosystem of the savannah. In the modern era, this place is recognized as a challenge for the seasoned hunter. It is common for poachers to wander weeks through the savannah, searching for rare hides and trophies. It is even said the dormant eggs and offspring of animals not seen for centuries hide here. Votar’s Prize It is said among the diaspora of beasts that were let loose in the emberglade, one Scaleback Despot nearly threatened to wipe the entire ecosystem. Known as kings of the Vectran forests they originate from, this predatory Scaleback was larger than any elephant, and bore rows of great teeth that could tear into stone.These creatures stand on their two hind legs, and while their front arms are small, they make up for it with keen sense and lethal bite. It was on the shores of the Emberglade that Golag landed, an orc exile of clan Lur with a task bestowed unto him by a shaman priest of Votar, spirit of the hunt: slay the beast and be welcomed back home. It took less than a day for him to locate his foe. Unsurprising, for the Despot with its crimson skin resembled a moving, scaled tower more than it did the animals of the savannah. Golag prepared various traps and tools, but they would not be enough. Golag knew this. As did a lesser spirit of Votar, who had been observing the orc’s relentless dedication to his duty. One evening against the warmth of a bonfire, the lesser spirit answered Golag’s prayers with a blessed horn and a gift of endurance that would match his dedication to seeing this beast felled. What the orc gave in exchange, however, has been lost to time, leaving many to speculate. On the first day, Golag laid only meager scratches on the beast, marks that it would forget after leaving the orc for dead. This only emboldened him. He recovered and licked his wounds and struck again and again. For weeks he would strike and the Scaleback would ravage him, only for Golag to mend his injuries and return. He did not tire. He could not. Golag could see that his attacks were starting to have an effect, he was wearing the Scaleback down little by little. The beast knew this too, a clever thing, and sought to put an end to this pest. During one last confrontation, Golag hunted relentlessly for three days, until at last the Scaleback staggered and collapsed from exhaustion and its injuries. Tragically for the orc, his own wounds were too great for the journey back. On these foreign fields so far from home, Golag passed on under the moonlight. Yet his legend is carried on by shamans and hunters alike, tales of his struggle against an insurmountable obstacle inspiring many. It is believed that during full moons, one can still see Golag traversing the Emberglade in search of the mightiest beast to challenge. OOC Information The Emberglade is an open region for players and ET to run DIY events without concern for regional beasts, as well as a potential place for forgotten and rare creatures to be reintroduced through events.

FELDER’S GROTTO Deep within Aevos is a cavern carved into the likeness of a place of worship. The Mori learned to fear this peculiar grotto, as have most wildlife, monstrosity or otherwise. To them, this place is an embodiment of death. Even the aura about the dwelling radiates a sense of impending doom. The shrine itself is a beautiful testament to the artistic and martial skill of Humanity, for it had been carved by bare hands of an ancient warrior who had sought to erect a temple for the Creator and his Faith. The Twenty-Seven Ends Long ago, a mission of holymen were dispatched by the Emperor Godfrey, alongside some of his legionnaires, to spread the True Faith across the realm. Among these legionnaires was Griffith, of the House Felder. They survived the dread storm and landed on the shores of Aevos. Hopeful they disembarked, eager in their quest. Brutal weather and hostile wildlife rushed to temper their expectations. Their party found refuge in the Underdark, only to become beset by Mori’Quessir. When their attempts to convert failed, blood was shed. Clergy were captured in the night, enslaved or tortured, but rarely did they endure the nightmarish conditions long. The Legionnaires adapted to Mori’Quessir tactics and fought back. Led by Griffith, they began one of the most successful purges of the Underdark. They found salvation through the perpetual slaughter of what was discovered. Be it mushroom, insect, Mori or any other abomination, the legionnaires of Godfrey survived by conquering what belonged to others. Even Mori slavers could not catch him as he evaded and murdered; he became a myth: Uk Vel'uss Tah - He Who Hunts. Years would pass as the Legionnaires endured perpetual warfare. But the Mori’Quessir were many. Gradually, Griffith’s men perished in battle, and even the great warrior could not defeat the devil of age. On a night known as the Twenty-Seven Ends, Griffith defeated an entire Mori’Quessir warband single handedly as the last of his party were surrounded and butchered. He had survived with twenty-seven wounds. But weary from blood loss and maddened by the endless decades of fighting, he hid himself in a small cave like a sickly animal for the slim chance of a peaceful end. Griffith was certain he would soon be joining his comrades in the Skies, and for a moment, he believed he had witnessed his death. The darkness of the caves had left Griffith’s eyes unprepared for a light so radiant and vibrant that it blinded: Before him, the Aengul of Courage, Malchadiael, stood. Impressed by his displays of bravery and ability to fight, the Aengul bestowed upon the enfeebled Griffith his Blessing. And as quickly as he had appeared, Malchaediael was gone. The Aengul’s champion recovered, alone in the dark, until he was recuperated. Understanding now that his quest was unfinished, Griffith struck and shaped the stones day and night until his blows were strong as iron. This cavern would become Felder’s Grotto. Griffith had finally established a place of worship, spread the True Faith as decreed by his Emperor, and so this temple remained protected until the end of his days. Above all things, Griffith of the House Felder respected bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. OOC Information Felder’s Grotto is part of a passive eventline that ET will be able to utilize throughout the map. The Grotto also establishes a unique place of worship tied to player history and opportunities to expand on the culture of Malchadiael’s Templars in the future.

The Heaven’s Fangs Among sailors it is said nothing bites like the Heaven’s Fangs, a gathering of wrecks and ruins with the promise of lost riches beneath the waves. The tales circulating the region range from pale hands that drag you into the depths to a water beast that devours ships whole. Whatever the truth, this place is one rife with misfortune. Into the Deep Artifacts and ancient records indicate that long before Iblees had torn the descendants apart, a prosperous city known as Taoul was built on the high cliffs of what would later become Heaven's Fangs. Here, the proud Bohra people prospered under the guidance of wise beings that endowed them with the knowledge to grow and develop. Mastery of the material, arcane, and beyond, many great things were learned and invented only to be lost for centuries. When it became clear that fate had decreed the Bohra would not prosper to eternity as they once thought, the brightest minds sought a way to preserve their home. One warlock who had sailed to many planes had a solution: to raise their city to the heavens where the decay could not touch them. For many days and nights the mages of Taoul worked tirelessly without sustainable results. What followed next has mixed accounts. It is believed an outsider came to the Bohra and granted a means of power sufficient to fuel them their endeavor. Who or what this outsider was, or what they gave to the Bohra in truth, has different answers. Some historians note the outsider emerged from the sea with a gift from the abyss, while others say they descended from the clouds with a piece of the stars, and the list goes on. Whatever the truth, it is certain this power failed them greatly. As the Bohra attempted to raise their city at last, the ground fought back. It shook and cracked before a great cataclysm obliterated them all, leaving massive chasms all across the land that would later form the rivers and fjords of the Heaven’s Fangs. Any traces of Taoul are few, and what truly happened on that day is a mystery. The Fjords The Heaven’s Fangs are a collection of fjords on the western edges of Aevos. The waters are infamously difficult to trek, and an amateur navigator’s early grave. For this reason, the region is known to host shipwrecks and sunken treasure. Located on the land are the ruins of a lost civilization over thousands of years old. Shattered sculptures and crumbled mosaic tiles depict men with boar heads engaged in various activities. Some are recognizable, like sailing and fishing, but others are more elusive, with boarmen wielding alien tools or riding some manner of unrecognizable beast or vehicle. It’s evident this was a highly advanced civilization. With a great deal of rubble under the waves, it is presumed by scholars that the larger portion of this city had been on the water, while the ruins on the land are but a small piece of the past. Within the ruins are carvings and depictions of humanoid shapes farming, building, and fishing. Structures built of rubble resembling shrines are scattered on the land. Simple stone tools and ornaments buried in the soil indicate various peoples resided in the ruins after its original makers. Old dolls and faded paintings show dark skinned fishmen of varying appearance. Some look relatively elvish with pointed ears, while others are more unusual: fish bearing the arms and legs of men, or women with their lower halves replaced by fish tails among others. Most of these aquatic entities are portrayed near the shore or swimming in the sea. Some explorations have observed crevices on the cliff walls akin to entrances, but few have been pursued. Those that have are said to lead down labyrinthian tunnels or into rooms of cave paintings. Whether the residents on the surface had fled below or an entirely different civilization lived there is unknown. Tales of cataclysm and a long history of death have driven future explorers away from the area, and rumors insist the place is cursed; claims that spirits call passing sailors to their doom, or stranger still, that some presence under the water prevents all attempts at settling these lands. Some even say the dead can be spotted on the cliff-sides under a full moon. OOC Information The Heaven's Fangs exist as an ambient piece of the map's story with a deeper, hidden history to unearth for those who enjoy exploring and piecing information together. It sets the groundwork for future events connected to themes of the ocean and the deep, as well as providing the means for players to host DIY events calling back to these elements of their own.

White Whispers Five of Captain Beleth’s men were sent to map out the northern tundra of Aevos. One returned. He was delirious and brought with him the diary of Leonid, a crewmate. Some of the pages were torn. When the ship disembarked, this lone survivor was not among them. It is presumed he fell overboard and drowned. Entries 2nd of Malin’s Welcome We’ve decided to spend the night in the hills. Hamelyn, our lead, says it’s a few days before we reach the northsnows, but he is hesitant. I hear it in his voice. This land Captain Beleth has brought us to is empty and wrong in ways I cannot say but feel. There are only ruins and great big mountains that cover the sun; even the light is not welcome. But the crew’s come to concede that a place like this has secrets many would pay a great deal for, and to this I agreed, so I volunteered alongside four others to determine what the tundras held. I am the only educated man among us who can read and write, and so I was charged with recordkeeping. Sam is perhaps the only one of us looking forward to this expedition. He is our youngest, and says he’s never seen snow before, so I’ve restrained my worries the best I can for his sake. Maxwell and Reto are not so discreet. Reto tries to get under Sam’s skin with his tall tales, but if they really did frighten the boy, he hides it well. 9th of Malin’s Welcome The northern expanse is greater than anticipated, we have been charting it for some days now. Sam spotted something even further north: a tower that stretches above the fog and clouds. Always in the distance. Hamelyn wants us to venture there, and I can see in Maxwell the urge to dissuade him. Ever since we reached the north, he hardly speaks, not even to taunt Sam. I cannot blame him. The nights are the worst. Wind thrashes and our fires struggle, so we fight the feeble warmth with the heat of our bodies, and as strong as Reto is, he too shivers in his sleep. What truly makes me uneasy is the nature of this place. There have been no birdsongs or wayward animals stumbling along the way, as if they know something we do not. However, when the weather picks up, I can hear faint, somber voices. I know it must be some trick of the wind, but it makes me wonder what became of the people who built the spire Hamelyn is so desperate to reach. 14th of Malin’s Welcome There has been a discovery. On the path to the spire, we found an opening into an old structure in the hills. It felt ancient, and the stones were not as cold as expected. Hamelyn didn’t think much of it, but Maxwell and I agreed that we might learn something of that tower within and save ourselves a trip and rations. Him, Sam, and myself went inside while Hamelyn and Reto waited for us. What we found resembled a study, with rusted tools and foreign inscriptions on the walls and tables that had to be centuries old. There were piles of books with the same inscriptions, so we took some with us. A collector or warlock will find better use for them, and the price will reflect that. Maxwell and I were briefly separated from Sam as we ventured deeper. What we found I dare not record here, but we left as soon as we found the boy. For the first time, Sam looked afraid. 17th of Malin’s Welcome For all the walking we have done, the spire gets further and further away from us. We are tired, our rations low, and now Sam is sick. An omen, Maxwell called it. We have stopped now that the sun is set and made camp. Hamelyn ordered Reto take Sam back in the morning when Maxwell asked to go with them. I threw my name in as well. There hasn’t been a day of peaceful rest in this tundra. We know it is only Hamelyn who wants to reach that damnable tower. We don’t know why. But we know that whatever hides here was tucked away for a reason. The things we saw in that ruin have embedded themselves behind my eyes, but surely Sam has taken it the worst. I would wager whatever he saw down there is what struck him ill. An omen. Try as I might to put that day behind me, but the night does no help. It is unmistakable now. I am certain it is voices I hear whispering in the dark. We are being watched. I thank the stars we’re finally going home. 18th of Malin’s Welcome We woke to Sam missing. All that was left were his wet pair of boots. Half the day spent searching for him before Hamelyn decided to set up camp again and let him come to us. Reto is still searching. We were supposed to start back today, yet we are no closer to the ship. There is one place we have not looked: the ruin. Maxwell knows it too, with his glances towards the hill when he thinks no one sees him. But neither of us wants to go back, and if Hamelyn had been down there, he would agree. Since he hadn’t, Maxwell and I are not keen to remind him. While gathering kindling for the fire, I saw prints in the snow beneath the trees. Not a man’s feet, something larger. They were the first ones I’d seen on this entire expedition, and some part of me hoped they would lead to Sam, but there was something wrong about these tracks, just as there is a wrongness in every stone and branch of this place, that kept me from pursuing them. As the prints went on, their shape warped, growing more jagged and uneven. It was hiding. Whatever this thing was, it did not want to be followed, and I obliged. 20th of Malin’s Welcome Two days have passed and Reto is yet to return. Sam is still missing. We cannot go any further, but Hamelyn insists on reaching the spire. Maxwell and I told him we would return to the ship, but Hamelyn only said that it meant he would find the spire alone. This cold has hampered his senses, hampered all of our senses, but I will not wait here and freeze to death. When we reach the ship, the captain will send more men, and they will find Sam and Reto. We stopped a moment in the woods, but plan to continue south through the dark. The silence is awful. I long for those whispers now, the only company we were afforded, and that they might point us the right way. There is nothing for us here. I want to go home. There is nothing for us here. [!] The final entry is not dated. The handwriting is skewed and stilted, unlike the other entries: We are home. She keeps us safe. OOC Information This piece is a part of the greater northern region's story to be expanded on through eventlines. Further information can be discovered through discovery and roleplay.

Memories of Al’avariel Under and above the hostile canopies of Al’avariel, secrets and untamable forces of nature reside. Temple of Doom The Kharajyr proliferated from their home continent of Khalenwyr and after settling Va’Khajra in Asulon in the name of Tla’Xerdun, other prides found separate lands, their divisions unknown. One such pride were a Pantera people, the Moquitli, zealous craftsmen whose ancestors hailed from the Asulon circle of blood mages and frequently included ensorcellments and rune-work in their religious rites and sacrifices. Their narcissism was consolidated among their clerical elite who strove to manifest the glory of their vicious blood god, Gore Goddess and Master of Pain, Metztli, and built a grand temple in her name. Many years later on a lunar eclipse, the temple was completed and sanctified through sacrifice, cementing the reign of the Kharajyr over the jungle and nearby cliffs. Afforded strong bodies, shadowy fur, and elemental enchantments, the Moquitli dominated the territory as apex ambush predators and thrived on the large game present. They went unchallenged for centuries, a period in which multiple dynasties and inner divisions came and went but always did the Blood Goddess loom on high; wars cut in her name, families ended in her name, and always toasts and festivals sung in her name. The Moquitli become scattered amid the arrival of other Kharajyr across the centuries. The divinatory masters of the clergy, High Moongazers of Muun’Trivazja, foresaw a dark future. One they constructed a calendar to predict and count towards. This stone clock anticipated a prophetic future where darkness would befall the continent and the earth would become evil, the chosen people of Metztli would endure great suffering, and their civilization would end in iron shackles and a river of blood. The day came when outsiders reached their shores. Although fierce, powerful, and magically armed, the great furred race did not easily dominate the night elves of Nemiisae who sailed on ships invisible at night, strode in silent platemail, and wielded envenomed and icy blades. The Mori’Quessir learned to subvert the Kharajyr and sailed around the continent to settle where their dynasty did not stretch, cemented themselves and grew their ranks, and slowly chipped away at the population. The prides were in part slain, enslaved, and slowed through methods of guerilla raids from underground and the implementation of ravaging curse-craft. The two warred for a span of nearly 200 years in addition to bouts of conflict with Ynna’s gate dwarves upon their arrival for 150 years. In this time the Kharajyr dwindled, many of the Kha’Tigrasi became slaves on account of their brawny builds, while other peoples fell to necrotic sicknesses and bewitchments by the Mori. Their land became deprived of fruit and the earth of nutrients after extended conflicts and slowly they were reduced to a mere village squatting in the ruins of the Teo Camaxli temple. A final war ended the Moquitli line but not without legendary scars. Kha’Tigrasi and Mori’Quessir naztherak of the Chaichath targetted the temple in aims to end the vestiges of the once-great civilization, a trophy to honor their names and their infernal lords, and for it they wove a curse over the land with the help of their very own blood magic. The mud became hollow and hungry and would suck in anyone who stepped into it in addition to swallowing buildings. Many signs of the civilization sank into the earth during a fiend-mouthed storm and with it the great pyramid became tilted and half-sank into the muck, killing thousands. The sludge filled the temple up to its heart chamber where to this day the doomsday calendar and its ritual circle are said to remain. In time the Kharajyr could no longer survive on their own. They were broken by famine, curses, raiding, and slavery, and ultimately the temple became a ruin. With the apex predators of the jungle vanquished and left to survive as pawns and scum in the service of others, the temple was abandoned. Today, it is believed something else lurks there. Hostile to invaders and fiercely protective of the structure. The Wellspring Towards the end of the Kharajyr conflict, Ruvetel, a matriarch of the Elvari warrior clan, employed a detachment of her most trusted fighters to quell a band of ruthless Kha’Tigrasi who had slaughtered a Mori’Quessir warband. The Mori’Quessir were victorious, but their enemy vicious, and amidst the chaos of battle, Ruvetel was separated from her people. Fatally wounded, she sought a quiet place where she could die on her lonesome and preserve what dignity she could. What Ruvetel found was a beautiful spring tucked away behind blooming plants and foliage, somewhere she had never been before. Awestruck, but weakened, she collapsed, and faded from the waking world. However, she did not pass. Seven days later she woke, and where her wounds had been, vines producing a mending oil she did not recognize were wrapped. As if some natural force had deemed her worthy of saving. As tribute, Ruvetel brought her people to the spring, and there they settled. Here, they flourished beyond what their kinsmen thought possible. The Mori and their livestock who fed on the plants grown around the spring and drank from its waters lived long and healthy lives. Crops grew at unforeseen speed, and herbs grew here that could not be found or grown anywhere else on the continent. The Elvari people might have been the most prosperous of the Mori’Quessir on Aevos, which drew the attention of many. Jealousy and envy spread to the faithful of Nemiisae, as it so often did. Some began to call this spring of unchecked growth a work of sacrilege to the Goddess of decay. It was unnatural to blossom as the Elvari did, and so surely they had to be stopped. First came the Mierillis'lysaen, a clan of mages who attempted to poison the spring under the eye of Galdiban, a blood sorcerer. Their arcane wisdom could not save them, for the Elvari were fiercely protective of their home, and repelled the attackers. Next came the matriarch of clan Selan. She attempted to reason with Ruvetel, show her this way was blasphemous and to settle elsewhere, but Ruvetel did not sway. Last was the warrior clan of Torath, who had no interest in magic tricks or diplomacy. A siege was waged for nearly a decade. If any of the Elvari people are alive today, they hide well. When the dust settled, nothing remained, and the wellspring was no more. Today, Al’avariel is home to several unique herbs and plants that were born during the days of Ruvetel. Flora blossoms here more easily than anywhere else, and many would find that the crops yielded here are long-lasting and strong in taste. The wellspring has been lost to the ages, yet some small sliver of its boons continues to persist. What Grows and Climbs Far above bloodsoaked temple steps and muddied waters are the Jade Mountains. A place of solitude and a climb suitable only to those prepared to test themselves. Though quiet and in tune with nature, the Jade Mountains are not absent in signs of civilization. To the contrary, many of the ridges and peaks seem to resemble the foundation for what appears to be a series of speckled, abandoned strongholds. What are these structures, and why are they here? Upon closer inspection, one may come to realize that though abandoned and at the very least centuries old, these strongholds are not masoned with stone. Hardly capable of acting as bastions for war, rather, they are adorned with many vibrant colors and wooden designs. They are embellished with jade sculptures and iconography that originated the area’s name. To a keen eye versed on the Aeldenic province, one may be able to make the comparison that these temples resemble Cathantese in architectural style. Regardless, these temples are abandoned and no more than lifeless husks nested among the clouds. Though the complete origins of these strongholds remains unknown, some tidbits of information can be extrapolated from the artwork and occasional text that can be found within the ruins. A general narrative can thus be formed from what is accessible: Sometime prior to the descendants' emergence upon the continent of Aevos, a band of Golden Fur Hou known as the Saiya-Ren had found their way to the Jade Mountains, away from the conflicts below. This region possessed a humid climate and green hills that resembled much of their homeland. A delight it was for these Hou to have been so fortunate in finding a land compatible with their lifestyle. And thus they began to scale the cliffs, swinging from tree to tree. Day in and day out they would climb and hoist materials with their tails. In time, they erected temples to a figure whose name can be transcribed as Hou-Shen. Within these compounds they would train day and night in the pursuit of the martial mastery of their spiritual energy. The murals also depict the Saiya-Ren undertaking trials of temperance as to refrain from a hedonistic and material lifestyle. It can be assumed it was for this reason they settled where the Mori’Quessir would not venture, a people so fundamentally contradictory to their way of life. The Saiya-Ren Hou thrived in peace, though it is unclear for how long. Many a beast and curious night elf found their way to the Jade Mountains, and with them came the strife of conflict. To preserve the tranquility of the land, the spiritual fighters of the Saiya-Ren would display their martial prowess and handedly protect their home. Life prospered. The exact cause of their vanishing remains unknown. One may only speculate. Perhaps another threat called their attention elsewhere? A simple matter of homesickness? Given the region’s history, perhaps it was something far more grim, but who really knows? OOC Information These loosely interwoven tales and pieces of Aevos history serve to establish eventlines that will be expanded throughout the course of the map, as well as a sandbox for players to explore themes of Kharajyr, conflict, blessings of nature, Mori’Quessir, the Cathant, and the now missing Hou-Zhi. It is also HIGHLY recommended that one not assume to know the legend and lore of the Kharajyr or Hou-Zi without coming upon it naturally through roleplay. Please, refrain from overt metagaming. DIY events can be held, but ultimately these ruins and the environments provided serve as a backdrop for roleplay and exploration. For ET: It is recommended that any monster or plot pertaining to the locations keep the aesthetics in mind rather than shoe-horning an event purely because the area is empty. Refer to the Maplore Backface documents for further details on doing events in this region.

The Brightwald In these chilled woods, terrible things watch your every move. A testament to evil has marked this place. Muckwood When Aevos was young and the Bohra ruled land and sky, some truths survived the centuries. Among them is the danger that dark magicks entailed. During the height of their civilization, a coven of scholars led by Tashra-Nuil, a prophet-sorcerer who warned of their collapse when most would call him a fool, sought a means to triumph their eventual death. His methods, however, were frowned upon by the same beings who had endowed the Bohra with the very knowledge that empowered their people. This did not stop his delving into forbidden matters of the flesh, and he was ultimately exiled. He settled in what was known as Muckwood at the time, an unsavory forest where little grew and many perished. His loyal students followed him into this dark place and they continued their studies. What Tashra-Nuil and his disciples learned was the mastery of weaving life, mending the tarnished flesh and animating what nature had abandoned. This craft was highly coveted, and for the slights their own people had laid against them, they would not share it so lightly. Through plaguecraft and pale armies that seemed to emerge from the dirt, they repelled any who would dare enter their home. It was known these woods were to be avoided, and the only records of Tashra-Nuil and his coven’s work that were not burned remain buried in the Muckwood. When the Bohra people vanished from Aevos, it is uncertain what became of these wicked wisemen. Many scholars and warriors have sought out his order through the centuries, led by tales in search of powerful relics and tomes for themselves, a desire to quell the darkness of the woods for good, or simply just for the quiet company of the dead. Few have succeeded. Fewer still would speak of it. Amidst Ash Mori’Quessir society is commonly brutal and rife with oppression. Slaves, spiders, and secrets. It was these conditions that brought on an uprising that began in Myazrill among males. Due to an unknown coven of witches bleeding into city leadership, the subjugation and abuse of males increased and under the heel of this matriarchy was there both a spark and a fire. Foremost Mori’Quessir men but additionally some of their Kharajyr slaves became roused into rebellion when a new smoky voice answered their pleas. By pacting with devils, men became warlocks and wielded dark arms and cursed flame to rise up and throw off the yoke of their mothers and masters. To the fatal flaw of such evils - infighting - this hellfire uprising was successfully ejected and what men and demons who could not be killed were cast away and exiled. This band of devil-dealers rallied under a new banner, House Chaicath, and together escaped the deep tunnels of their kin and settled in a sprawling forest where they raised demons and belched hellfire. There they erected a grim hold, their tomb-hall of Jixharr. On a date burned in history - literally and metaphorically - the Chaicath assembled to pull the Hells to them in a grand ritual in the woods with an incestuous union of dark arts. Fitting for the unstable chaos of inferi, the ritual was a success with disastrous consequences; the fortress erupted in flame and scorched it black while an inferno shot across the forest where a volcanic storm rose into the sky and raged for days. Frightened eyes from all across the continent saw this infernal light, and thus the woods became known as the Brightwald. Once the inferno faded its curse became apparent; the forest was blasted into a scorched waste. A sizeable amount of warlocks not sacrificed to the ritual were incinerated themselves but unfortunate others endured the blaze who instead were subject to the damnation of the profane ritual, each converted heart and soul into inferi. It is not known what became of House Chaicath or their tomb-hall, but across Aevos are records of monstrosities that raided and pillaged for treasures and meats before disappearing into shadow. OOC Information The Brightwald is a location set as the groundwork for future eventlines further down the map as well as an ambient backdrop to fulfill the niche of creepy forest. Players can host DIY events here and utilize the stranger monsters in the expanded bestiary, and ET are able to run events tied into the aesthetic and themes of death and dark magic.

it reads like the only thing this hypothetical submission would do is shoot swords directly at people, which isn’t how bladedancing is defined in the pic and therefore should be fine. but u also mention swinging the swords, something a bow & arrow doesn’t do, so mimicking the mechanics doesn’t translate if that’s the case. there’s also no mention of the defensive capabilities. if i surround myself with a bunch of floating swords and move around, would that not kill people i just walk up to? how do people get close without being stabbed by a dozen edges?

"Could I get pro perms to destroy your road blockade in rp?" "No." Why continue allowing region owners (exclusively) to hide behind OOC rules if roleplay and player agency is the intention of this change? Giving tile owners more control over players without also guaranteeing players the chance to respond doesn't make sense. also "RP-diplomacy" lol get real

A pale thing crumbles in the forest, trembling in prayer.

ty for feedback! changes applied but lmk if i missed something

Lore Page: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/187772-%E2%9C%93-arcane-feat-addition-atronach-limbs/ Purpose: I noticed that atronach limbs have non-combative, elemental traits to them all with the exception of telekinesis. This amendment aims to give them something more substantial than a temporary combat strength buff while closer aligning them with the capacity of other atronach limbs. Original Amendment

cant wait to hit people with my discharge