RoamingRonin

I can't read to save my life, so I've elected to narrow my posts down to three points, one for each section. 1. The general outcry I'm seeing is to bring back resource pits. I agree. And I think if the playerbase is asking for an old favorite (and a convenience) to make a return, then we should listen to them, considering they are...well, the bulk of the server lmao. Besides, I don't think I've ever done a resource run that was RPly motivated aside from "we need this". I don't see why it's being pushed to an enforced thing, and spending mind numbing hours running around the map to find these resource nodes sounds like a time sink. 2. I like the CT idea. I feel like we should have speed boost on roads. I thought that was always a thing. I guess I'm learning now it's not(?). I dunno. I have no real opinion about CT, considering I rarely ever go there at all. That's just a personal thing, so take it with a grain of salt. 3. I like the idea of tiles being hand-drawn. Now THAT is a little piece of immersion I can get behind. It'd make sense for a nation to build around the area they find. Also, I agree with a few folks that tiles shouldn't be cheap. Other than that, I have no real issues with tiles. Mostly just take issues with nations as a whole concept.

The reputable and illustrious Roland LeGrand grumbled aloud, squinting his eyes and holding the missive closer to his face, then far away. "Gah, do all dwarves write like dis?"

The reputable and illustrious Roland LeGrand reads the parchment as it was released, a small curve of his lips upward. He thinks about how there are many other deserving targets, one that sit in rather high positions. He quickly burns the material, and seeks to meet with Kazimir sometime in the future to discuss.

Koko signs the word 'cry'. Goodbye Miko. You were a baller friend to have around! Hope to cross paths with you again in the future. (And your skins are friggin dope)

The Oyashiman Hexer, Masuo of Yamatai, would remain blissfully unaware of this missive. He was sat upon a stump in Karkosa, sharpening his blades whilst planning the way forward.

"Seen dis fella a lot in Celia'nor." The gambler would snicker, reading the missive with and flipping the page over in his hand. "No correlation, obviously." He'd say sarcastically, folding the paper up and storing it away for safekeeping. There'd be some folks who find this of interest.

"Definitely no outside motivations involved here." The gambler would recount idly.

A reputable businessman looks over the pristine white city of Celia'nor, stood amidst the tower atop his sanctum. His face downturned into a frown, no, a scowl. Fire danced in his eyes...

Late to this but: I only knew you for a little bit, and I had fun writing with you. Hope to cross paths again in the future, despite how unlikely that'll be. Enjoy life, and go with the flow.

"Was a good fella. Watched him beat up an old man who spat on de princess. Made for good fun, no?" The reputable businessman, Roland LeGrand, would say upon finding out the poor knight's passing. "Well, dat and he warned of skeletal horsemen. Got t' close up de casino a bit early." He'd snicker, passing cards to each player on a streetside table in Karosgrad.

"Ya have darkspawn within your own ranks, ya idjit." A reputable business man would comment in passing, before entering the inner sanctum of The Hiram King.

Masuo of Yamatai sat in the wilderness of this horrid land, having heard what had happened from his comrades. He'd sharpen his blade, a frown laid struck across his features. "We gave him chance after chance. Hell, I gave him a second lease on life." He'd mutter, feeling some twinge of sadness and regret. "Now my only regret is I didn't get to kill him myself." He'd say, packing up and moving on from his temporary seating arrangement. Little did the Oyashiman know, that there would be a letter waiting for him should he ever return. One that may give context.

He was there for both events. The supposed 'attack' at Starpool, and the 'execution', if one could call it that. One might say it was more akin to a butchering fit for a slaughterhouse. Something did not line up in his mind about the rationale. With his own disposition soured towards the government, and the grief stricken elves of Amathea making pilgrimage to ask what had happened, a fire ignited in his belly. One of rebellion. A scowl twisted his vision, as he stood within the tower overlooking the square. Rememberance took hold of the calm and collected mother of the deceased, carrying off her son down the roads of the countryside. Of the phantoms and poltergeists that laid claimant to the rights of the living. Of the violation of his sacrosanct sanctum by the fascist 'military'. Anger threatened to bubble to the surface, but he knew better than that to show his emotions in public. He'd simply sigh deeply, shut his eyes for a moment, and hold his anger within. In his mind, something needed to change.

(Comment voided)

He didn't witness it happen. Merely, an arrow sail through the air, as he'd been trying to breach the tower and pull them both out. Between the roaring of the blaze, and the shouting of his comrades, Masuo of Yamatai did not hear with certainty what went down in the tower. Just the explosive power of a boomsteel arrow. Yet, the flames raged on, and the samurai could not bare to lose any more than he had. Simple shouts and commands, to abandon the keep, and escape with their lives. Fighting through smoke and flame, did those weary Hexers run. Witnessing the horrors of lost comrades, one of which his beloved niece, he trudged on. As they looked back, Masuo fought tears. How could this have happened? How could the mage do this? A mix of hatred and pain tore his face asunder, the tears welling in his eyes until he could not contain them much longer. Kolette of Rolin. At one point in time, he cared for her like a mentor, trying to steer her from her misdoings, and occasionally even partaking in them. He could see her face planted clearly in his mind. The scared little girl, on a ship besieged by pirates. He'd tried to visualise her now, in the present, but the pain was too much. Even with her final act, he could harbor no hatred. Despite the misgivings of others, and the antagonistic nature, he'd miss her. In his mind, he knew she was gone. No one escaped the blaze. But in his heart, he prayed she'd somehow made it out, and left to embark on a quiet and peaceful life. He'd think back, to their last conversation together, sitting side by side at the great dining hall of Dun an Ein. "I'm happy you are back. It's so good to see you!" "You as well, Kolette." He'd smile. "You as well..." This. This is how he'd remember her. A girl who loved so completely, that she'd sacrifice herself for those she'd care for.

The ronin hexer, Masuo of Yamatai, watched in terror as the flames engulfed the tower. Praying to himself for the safety of his beloved niece, the samurai urged those within the flames to find better ground. However, before he could, he watched in despair. A plummet of flames and flesh, the form roughly in the shape of that woman he held so dear. The wailing of Angelika, and the crackling of flames drowned out all sounds. Yellowed gaze grew glassy, but the intensity of the flames summoned him back to his senses. "We have to GO!" He'd cry out, and the others acquiesced. He would mourn, later. However, the pain of this loss. It would never leave him. It would become a part of him, warping and changing him in a way no blade or fang could. Darya...his moody, headstrong, difficult Darya. How many times had they sat upon the rails, just outside Verres's room, and exchanged philosophical conversation by way of Kaktuz smoke? The times, standing side by side, as they fought for what they believed to be right, whether it be in the halls of Dun an Ein, or on the streets of Providence. Backing each others' play, keeping their heads on a swivel, being warriors for the mundane. He'd fought tooth and nail to keep her alive. He'd believed he failed once, and it ruined him. The uncertainty of not knowing her absolute fate, a haunting shadow that hung over him like a cloak. Now, there was no question. Grief stricken, a pit left curled into his stomach, as he would take stock of his life and choices. Could he carry on? In a world without one he had sworn his family? A bond deeper than blood. One of absolute, unshakeable love. He knew the Hexer Creed meant certain death. He'd steeled himself for it many times over. So why? Why did this pain wrack his body and mind? Poisoning his thoughts and stalling his action. Again, he asked. Could he carry on? Once before, when he'd thought her lost, he tore himself away from the family he knew, and retreated back into himself. A destiny he swore he'd never let happen again. A stain of guilt, for his shakiness to the Creed, ever marking him. He'd promised himself: whatever happens, he would see it through to the end. Well, despite his best efforts, those thoughts intruded again. Many nights were spent staring down to the bottom of a sake bottle. A panacea for the pain. Now, more than ever, when his family needed him, he was sitting hand in hand with his vices. Replaying the events in his mind. Opening wounds before they had the chance to close and heal. It should have been him. She should have surpassed him. Curse it all, this long lived life! The blame he rendered upon himself, the horrid self-flagellation of the mind, tore him to bits. He could do it again. The trail called him once more, and he was on the precipice of letting his feet carry him off. Like the wind, he had said fondly, though this time would be marred with grim intent. He'd spiral. Like a man being pulled into the undertow. Drifting away, leaving others to share the burden amongst themselves. Until he thought to himself.... What would she say, should she see him now? "Get up, uncle. I thought you were one of the old ones." He'd heard, clear as day. A smile formed at the thought. A weak one, but it was what he needed. How foolish Arising from his stupor, he'd enter the forests outside of where they made refuge, the voice of his niece guiding him onward. He needed to be stronger now. Resolute. An unmoving oak for the others to latch to, when they feel themselves growing weak. "I am sorry to have left once more, uncle.. But in spirit I shall remain until we are united once more.." There, in the dense woodlands, one would hear the primal screams. One filled with hatred, sorrow, pain, and most importantly...love. A reaffirming of himself to this order; to his family. He'd scream, and scream, until his voice gave out. Tears poured from his eyes like a dam that had been breached, until his eyes could produce no more. And, then when all was quiet, and he was sat upon a stump, he would look to the sky, upon the pallid complexion of the moon. And he could swear, up there on the surface of that celestial rock, that he could see a figure dancing. Swaying in a dress, hair bobbing as she's lifted and swung around by a man with eyes yellowed much like his own. They'd seem to stop as soon as they were noticed, the girl breaking free from the man's grasp, as she ran to put herself in better view. She was jumping and waving, as if to get the ronin's attention, soon coming to rest with a wide, toothy grin. The man took position behind her, a more reserved smile lining his visage. He'd wave as well. The Hexer's hand moved on it's own, as he lofted it high, and waved back, a smile etched permanently upon him. He'd sworn he had no more tears left. A gamble he'd lose.

Smoking that NL pack!!!

Then where's World Team? If all that effort was put into it, then why wasn't it a successful and well regarded team? Literally everyone I talked to about it had something to say about World Team. And not much of it was really good, if at all.

I said what I said.

LOL Goodbye. SoulReapingWolf was the only based WT Member. As well as BDanecker when he was still around on WT. Love those fellas. Glad to see the lacking effort of the rest of the team was recognized.

Definitely don't think removing the PK clause for nation leaders was the move. Everything else is alright, though!

Masuo of Yamatai looked upon the document, a small smile forming on his lips. He then went back to sharpening his weaponry, upon other Hexerly duties.

"Hrm? What's this?" Masuo of Yamatai, the resident Oyashiman Hexer, who's lineage extends from the Horns of Yamatai, furrows his brows upon reading the warning. "Really wish people would stop speaking for mine. And only 100 minas? I'm worth at least 250. Perhaps even 500."

The hype is real, fellas. The hype is f*ckin real.