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Zakajaervi

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Posts posted by Zakajaervi

  1. 53 minutes ago, Llir said:

    I want to quote something from our Player Conduct Policy when it comes to the permanent bans administration issues:

     

    We're all here to have fun, and when someone's presence on the server is consistently taking from this, what do we gain by giving them a platform to degrade the experience for everyone?

     

    I also want to stress that we don't issue these bans lightly, unless someone has dome something genuinely terrible, or has a very extensive history, I almost always will advocate to give them another chance.


    Thank you Llir for the perspective. I'm not going to totally disagree nor oppose the player conduct, though there is an undeniable problem if you will take a look at the amount of people who share my view. Perhaps there are more who realize this problem and is not responding. I'm gonna be that guy to say that your perspective from the administration varies from ours. 

    No, this is not some place to write a whole redemption story to get unbanned and such I don't complain about. I don't want LOTC to be stupid, I want it to be fair. We want it to be fair. Does the debate, and it's comments, not broadcast a problem to you? I did not make this post because I was upset one of my friends got banned, I am upset that it was unfair and that the server has seen it before many times.

    It can suck for a player who has enjoyed and participated in what I would not just call a "minecraft server" but a community of friends, characters, stories and progress to be banned over a joke made three years ago. Can we find common ground in that? 
     

  2. 46 minutes ago, Werew0lf said:


    What’s the context though. If they did something years ago that they went unpunished for, and it was nasty enough to get them permabanned, I don’t think the timeframe should matter. 


    That would depend heavily on what rule was broken. Despite that it was 3, 5, or even many more years ago you believe a dumb joke made all that time ago should get somebody banned permanently? 

     

    Imagine all the dumb shit said in voice chats of warclaim team chats, if all of it was recorded, divided and reported seperately. 

    Yes, the jokes can be pretty dumb but this is where the problem is. What crosses the line? Why can one person make a serious joke and be let off, and others get banned years after for something they pretty much forgot? 

  3. 5 hours ago, Netphreak said:

    In short, you are able to view the template that moderators use to dispense various actions by simply scrolling up to the top of the forums page and clicking on the tab that says "Rules", scroll down a little bit and you'll see the table. 


    I'd say following / not following the table is gonna cause some problems. It's a good table, but the problem remains. Someone makes a joke three years ago and gets banned now, for example. Or somebody slips and makes a joke in general, and then staff are supposed to stick to the table very strictly?

  4. Greetings LOTC.

    What is the weight of a ban?


    This is a question I will broaden for the purpose of some observation of what I would say is a problem.

    What makes a ban against one player weigh more than the other? What decides that one broken rule bans you longer than breaking the other rules, or the others who break the same rule?  There are the obvious reasons: What rule was broken, previous bans/warnings, severity of the rulebreak, consequence of the rulebreak and effect on the server and players. There are players amongst our servers who can count on their fingers how many times they have been banned / temp banned for several reasons and then there are the players who haven't been banned at all.

    And every one in a while, a player may be permanently banned for something they said, did or even joked about several years ago. Maybe no one even noticed that a rule was broken, nobody cared and nobody was offended over the situation, but after years for whatever reason they get a ban for something they may not even remember doing.  After years of growth, most people can agree that they have improved as a person. I myself have said some serious things which I am not proud of, and so can most of us. That is not my opinion, that’s fact. Does this make us worthy of a permanent ban? Despite how well you have treated your fellow server members, the respect you’ve shown the staff, the roleplay and the server, you slipped joking about something three years ago and all of a sudden you are not welcome in this community. I will not name any names, but I know a few players who this happened to. Some of you reading this may have friends that do, or it may even have happened to you. While every one of us knows that there are several players who say discriminatory and unjust remarks and flat insults toward other server members, and get left off with a tempban because it was a “heated moment” or whatever other reason. Nonetheless, in my eyes and the eyes of many it does not seem fair in the slightest that a joke in a discord server where everybody was obviously having a laugh and no joke dark humored joke was directed to one specific player can remove someone from the community for good.

    No, I am not saying that stupid jokes about wrong and discriminatory things should go unpunished and unhandled. There may be instances where the severity is indeed worthy of a permanent ban. A player who did say something years ago should know and be reminded that they did something wrong and that it is unacceptable. But a permanent ban, for a version of a player that in most cases were obviously younger and immature? Because of a joke?

    Yes, There are bans which are very obviously out of discussion. There can be controversy on what actually fits in this category, but we all have some moral idea of what that could be. (Grooming, pedophilia, sexual harassment, rape encouragement etc.) So excluding the unforgivable, I believe there are moments where the rule breaker can grow, and can get a shot at redemption.  Not all severe cases, but some. Most cases, it is also very obvious if there was an intent to discriminate or simply to joke. 

     

    I suggest some sort of solution to this problem. What is a more fair way of handling this? I propose some sort of punishment timer. From when the rule was broken (depending on what rule was broken), the severity of the punishment varies on how long ago the rule was broken + if they have repeated it / shown no signs of growth in behavior and respect for the rules. This is initially just a thought, and there could be hundreds of ways to solve this problem, maybe it is only a problem in my eyes. So I ask you this, LOTC’s, players and staff, whether you agree or don’t,

    What do you think?

     

    - Zakajaervi

     

    weigh.thumb.jpg.de89d43fdaabd5234fd8a5fa161484ab.jpg
     

    “You should take what I say with a pinch of salt” - ArrDee

  5. Bellowing waves of cackles at the manuscripts, scraping them off with blades made from mystical rock. 

     

    "How grand you little weaklings choose to reap the canonists, but how utterly foolish you are to wage a war on US." 

     

    [!] Some manuscripts were scrapen off. 

     

     

  6. [!] Mystic whispers between every raindrop falling from the dark sky offer a shallow and dark response from the abyss of Menhir and dark stone.[!]

     

    "Oh how the damned will hunt the fearful.

     

    Centuries have we turned fear toward those who prey on the fearful.


    Centuries, will do it again." 

     

     

     

  7. [!] A purple glowing hue burnt onto papers writes a missive broadcasted to all of Aevos [!]
             ATRONACH_2.png?ex=65dbd185&is=65c95c85&h

    "Brothers. Soldier. Guardians. Slayers. Constructs. Creations.
    The Brotherhood Eternal summons you. Our sacred soldiers have been scattered for a while now and the eternal flame has layed dormant since The Great Kiraso and Mother Scribe vanished.

    But they were not wrong to believe in the nature of our creation. We are purification, and by the great void shall we cleanse the world of what does not belong. With flame and might we will pierce the skulls of the darkspawn filth that plague this land, feeding on the youth of the people who once created us. To the descendants, whether you are elven people or humans of canonism, let our upbringing not strike fear into your hearts but bring you comfort and assistance on our hunt of darkspawn. 

    To the brothers of our lost army, the eternal flame has been reignited. There is a place for you here to rejoin our great purpose. To the constructs of Aveos beyond our path, a place in the path of the eternal flame is now open to you. Atronachs, Creations, Constructs, you are called to join us in. We offer you purpose, leadership and brotherhood. Join us in the eternal hunt of dark-filth, and we will offer you mana, reparations and upgrades accordingly. 

     

    The Brotherhood Eternal calls you. Seek Master Prometheus in the most serene state of Lurin, and you shall be enlightened."

    Eternal we fight. Eternal we hunt.


    [OOC NOTE]
    Greetings fellow LOTC-ers. To those of you interested in playing Atronachs, The Brotherhood Eternal needs YOU! 
    Message me on discord: Zakajaervi and you can become our next atronach. 

     

  8. [!] A letter was posted and passed out everywhere around all nations with a message to Aevos. [!]


    “My name is Solomon Obediah. To those that knew me, if you are reading this: I am gone. I have lived a long life as Solomon. Comrade to many, friends to many, brother to two, lover to one. I have spent a long time wondering what I would write as my last message to the world. 

     

    To those that knew me from serving the ISA, I salute you for keeping your head out of the dirt for this long. The time mourning our empire is long gone and should admittedly be forgotten history. Were you fighting with the kingdom's side of the Acrean war, it is now your right to know that our forces were intentionally discontinued as a deal with the Acrean leadership to keep my son who was leading the Petran army alive after they won the war. Call it selfish, but I was always a man to do anything for my family.

    To my old friends, do not worry about me. Most of you will agree that I should have been gone very long ago. More wars and battles than we call can count on our fingers. Many who have fought me, tried, and failed.
    Dwarves, Ferrymen, fellow Heartlanders, Highlanders, Darkspawn, Rustlers, Orcs, Elves. Countless names under my blade. Though I have been untouchable on the field, losing my family has only shown me how vulnerable it has made me.

    To the world within and beyond my path, let it also be known that
    Doctor Primrose Gendik is dead. There was a time in Orenia where she had done what she thought was right and this cruel world punished her for it, leaving her with two choices. Die now, or Die later. We together falsified her death so the world would think she was gone. We lived peacefully in Helios together for many years after that happened, even got married and nobody knew. She very badly to see her children, but she couldn't for their safety. If any of her children or grandchildren are reading this, know she loved you more than she loved herself and your names amongst many was uttered in her last words. She saved countless lives, healed countless wounds and she is the reason most of the worlds ancestors could have its grandparents and parents. The world is all the lesser without her, and my drained love for her could never satisfy the debt the world owed to her.

    The world only needs to know that Solomon Obediah is gone. My life has been harsh, stained with blood, betrayal and darkness. I have little hope of good in people anymore, but my love has taught me that within this shit hole we call a life, there are
    Sunflowers and Roses that bring joy and hope. I hope the fathers of our future generations learn to raise better men.

    My road of Swords has been difficult to live, difficult to reminisce, but I sincerely hope some good came out of it."

    - Solomon Obediah

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    -+- OOC message -+-

     

    Closing this chapter of the infamous Solomon Obediah, I have been playing this character for about four years and it has been a lot of great memories, wars, roleplay moments, and making friends. To all of Solomons friends, to all of his enemies, thank you for a nice chapter. 

    - Zakajaervi



     


     

  9. MC Name:

             Zakajaervi

     

    Character's Name:

             Solomon Obediah

     

    Character's Age:

             200

     

    Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

             Human

     

    Transformed form:

             Eidola

     

    Creator's MC Name:

             Astark, Seraphine

     

    Creator's RP Name:

             White_Wolf Ztrog

     

    Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

             

    An Eidoila is a menhir stone body that is filled with water. The water is a projection of the soul made into an Eidola, it can also be several souls. This water is constantly seeping out of the knight, keeping the knight 'smooth' and able to move. The water serves as the essence of their 'life'. If an Eidola is to be drained of their water within their body they would die and resummon at their menhir. In contradiction to their mortal forms, Pale Knights rarely feel emotions (albeit they can feel a sense of emptiness/depression if their water begins to dry). When using the 'devour' ability which in short steals emotions, they can feel a sensational high. An Eidola can also create anything out of their 'stone' such as weapons that only they can perfectly wield and even statues. Eiodlas may also get augments that enhance their abilities, and can have two augments at the same time. A good example is the augment Appirition Candle, which gives you the enhancement of being able to hold more souls. 

     

    If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

    Pale Knights are 9' heaps of rock. They look 'bumpy' and their rock is uneven. They have 'glows' around their body that is shades of blue and green. Pale knights can be anywhere between 6-9ft. The 'form' of the body is like a humanoid with arms and legs. 

     

    Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

             https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/217237-corcitura-fa-zakajaervi/?tab=comments#comment-1939454

     

    Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

             Yes

     

    Are you aware that if this creature is shelved, your character may be given the option to revert or be indefinitely shelved?

             Yes

     

    Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

             I understand

     

    Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

             No

  10. After days of wandering, climbing, and searching, a mourning warrior bestows his eyes and precense upon the silver tree. The nearly perfect atmosphere now disturbed by the sound of metal boots crunching onto sand and dry grass. The air- now familiar with the smell of horse and cigarettes from the ancient knight. A neatly wrapped statuette now sits, along with others, at the base of the quaint tree. 
     

    finallyifoundthis.PNG?ex=657e331e&is=656
     


    "Just like mother taught us, Ken. Out of the fossils of every story- new history is written with the ash of fires and the  blood of soldiers." 

    The ancient knight stands, and preaches out to noone- or anyone that was listening. 

    glorious.PNG?ex=657e3324&is=656bbe24&hm=


     

  11. Atlas Hetlesaether
    "The man in red" 

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    "Dad! Am I gonna see you in the big parade? The one with the soldiers marching to the square? And all the flowers being thrown!"

    "Yes, sunshine. You will see me marching through with the other soldiers and officers. Go to mother, okay? I’ll wave to you."

     

    Spoiler

     

     

     

     



    The young man in his traveler's robes walks through the gates. He got all sorts of weird stares. “Why are his eyes yellow?” “Why is his hair red?”  the citizens of Helena asked. His hair was crimson, his tongue was northern, and his posture was manly. The clanking footsteps of steel boots march through the city.

    HALT. ABOUT FACE!” A booming commanding voice sounds from behind the red haired wanderer. Shortly followed, a tap on his shoulder. Ceasing his previous actions he turned around and was met by an iconic face, Captain Alren DeNurem. Those ocean blue eyes, and that stylish mustache. Dressed in an extra fancy looking officers uniform. “What’s your name, boy?”

    His name was Atlas. His hair was rose red, his yellow eyes shifted and squinted in suspicion quite often. He had a sly smile, and despite his uniqueness he was a charmer. Though perhaps trying to charm the wrong person got him a gloved slap every now and then.

    The shining golden cross of the barracks added fragrance to his oath. Fist clenched over the chest, like all the soldiers had done. Stood by his side were some of the people who grew up to be icons, superiors, comrades and friends and even one lover. Jacquelyn, Jason, Rylan, Illiquin, Alexios, Adrian, Peter, Elene, Viktoriya and so on…

    Atlas clenches onto his standard issue ISA recruit helmet. “MOVE IT, BUCKET!” The booming voice shouts. He had never seen war. Rain, Dirt and Blood runs down his dirty hands. No going back now he thinks in all his young foolishness. Grasps along his newly obtained longsword. Obeying, Marching, and Fighting in the field, the young man slowly learns that he has a profound talent in killing. Drenched, bloody, dirty, he stumbles into Helena once more. As he returns to the barracks, he is greeted by ISA breakfast and a promotion.

    There he is, The man in red!a fellow soldier cheered, standing up from one of the tables. The rest of the ISA raised their beer glasses and roared a cheer for him. For the first time, he had been recognized as more than a bucket and more as a comrade. It was a new beginning. This was where he belonged, this was his legacy. And so, the traveler had settled. Everyone has gone to bed in a mixture of tiredness and intoxication. While everyone’s night ended brightly, Atlas spent it alone back at his dorm. He stood in front of the mirror, but he could not look at himself. He only looked down at the water, and at his hands. It wouldn't wash off. Those red stains on his hands, they wouldn't go away. On this day, the legend of the sacred soldier started. Unfortunately, this was also the birth of something horrible. Something within, something caged waiting to be released. Like a chained devil, waiting to spread its wings.
    It was decades later, he was no longer a boy. His hair was no longer red. Shorter, brown, and he also had a mustache now. He was handsome. The citizens called him Helena’s darling, spreading joy and smiles where he went. He had a calming aura, one that made people relieved. Not only himself, but also…

    “Dad! When do I get to wear those loong and beautiful dresses?” Those innocent little eyes beamed up at him, her hands clenched in excitement.

    “Oh, Eliza, didn't your mother tell you? Once you grow up to be a young woman, and you meet a man as kind as me, you will wear a beautiful dress, so long that all of your friends will need to help you walk down the wedding aisle!”

    Those small and soft arms lifted in even more excitement. The little girl hopped up and embraced her father in a clinging hug. “Yippie!” She squealed in excitement. And Atlas was living a life happier than ever. Around who he loves the most, he always had a wide smile and a soft red hue on his cheeks.

    Of course, not all happy days last long. The same smile he walked around with during the good times was no longer there. It was hard to get it all out of his head. The war scars, in his head. It was there, like a demon tainting his mind. So many of his comrades had died. So many of his friends. Only a lucky few walked the red road with him. Alren was General, and his icons had shifted. Captain Illiquin resigned, and so his new inspiration was Peter D’Arkent.

    Perhaps one of the most disturbing days crossed him, the absolute bottom of his mentality. He had stumbled into a scared shook pair, a young man and woman. They told Atlas they had been a victim of torture in a place hidden below the local tavern. In investigation, they found out a man had forced citizens to be covered in paint and to run straight into painting to create some sort of vague art. A psychopath. With time and a steady eye on the city they finally found him.   Though it was not Atlas’ first time tasked with execution he had never executed a man like this one. “Any final words?” The respected soldier asked. He looked up at Atlas and wore a wide, creepy and toothy grin. “See you soon.” And even after his head was relieved of his body, that same creepy smile stared straight into the ceiling. Something changed in Atlas that day too.

    He was growing old. He had become an icon himself for inferiors. Soldiers like Atlas in his early days. Although an icon should not have favorites, he held a few soldiers dearest. Willem Galbraith and Stafford. Even though he was now old and grumpy, they still respected him mostly. 

    Only Jacqualyn “Jack” was alive from the old days. His one remaining friend. She was the only one that understood his heavy heart, despite his hollow and tainted soul. She was the only one that led out a heavy breath when he held his resignation speech. Perhaps, she along with his daughter were the thin line keeping Atlas from going insane.

    It was a cloud-free day. His wooden cane tapped on the wooden dock. Atlas, and his old friend Jack were sitting by the water. The sun drew a beautiful line that remained so still on the vast and clear ocean. The breeze was warm and yet cooling at the same time. The goldfinches sang so peacefully. He had been through a lot. He had seen many days, and it was time. She embraced him, and for once in a very long time let himself fall apart. Jack, Alren, Alexios, Jason, he had said his goodbyes to all.

    All but one.

    As trinity grasps him slowly into death, he is overwhelmed by will. He had not said goodbye to his daughter yet. He had to see her face once more. Thus he is reborn. Not a man, but a whisper.

     

    Walking on the line between life and death, the ghost started his journey to find his daughter. On his journey, he was afraid. Afraid that he would be shunned from the place he bled for. And shunned by the people he knew. Surprisingly, regardless of what ghosts were called he was respected. A blind eye was turned to the whisper and so he grew to be the sacred soldier. Assisted by the elf Minuvas, he was given a new name. “Aurdir miles” translating to the sacred soldier from elven. And so, as a protector of the ebonwood forests he was worshiped as a guardian. With the symbolic look of an angel, his nature was good and his purpose was clear. Even if it was just a glimpse, he had to see her face just once more.

    Long did the angel wander. The longer he did, the heavier the wings felt. Remnants of the darker days were flashing anytime his eyes were closed. Was he roaming the lands to find his daughter or was he running away from his past?

    Unfortunately, the past caught up, the darker days returned, for he had a fallback. Atlas found his daughter, but she was no longer humming songs in a happy walk. Eliza was dead.

    His soothing aura of peace and harmony vanquished in an instant. The thunder roared. The last drop fell. His soul began beating a deep and violent red heat. Overruling the once holy ghost, the crimson spread like a plague. The crimson behemoth was released, and havoc was to be wreaked.

    Decades pass. Noone is able to fully put the enraged being to death. Over and over, Aurum and other natures of reaping darkspawn only brought him back over and over, turning him more and more violent. Erasing what was good in his mind, bit by bit.

    Only at very certain times could ‘Atlas’, the good guy, be in control of such a fragile form. And what peace he could establish, he spent on obscure places. In connection to his peaceful death, he often sits by water and observes in silence. And one time, his silence gets disturbed. For once, at the sight of life, the man in red stays contained. Atlas is met by an innocent little face, and a soft voice with a warm smile. Emerald eyes, brown hair that only blew ever so slightly in the calm breeze. She looked familiar. With so many years alive, it was certainly difficult to make out all the faces.

    All mortals cowered, shivered, angered, and ran at the sight of him, but not her. She was a golden child, she was Laurelai Holly. Her eyes beamed up at the wraith. Around her, he did not feel like less of a man he was. He felt like something even greater. And in time, associating this golden child as his own daughter he was able to remain relatively sane.

    In time, Atlas became anchored. He believed that if he could take a step closer to what he was before he could die again and die properly. Unfortunately, the devil within hid his phylactory in a place Atlas had forgotten and demanifested, erasing the memory. It hid in a place where he was once worshiped as something else.

    Often crossing the bridge between sanity and insanity, “The man in red” made many enemies and gathered more and more nicknames. “Hunger incarnate”, “The Crimson Revenant ''. Battled with the likes of Glod Grimgold, Baldrum Colborn, and so the list goes on. Very few survived encounters with him. Many years he was the harbinger of pandemonium, often attacking Orenian Descended places like Minitz and Petra.

    The few lucky warriors that did cross him served purpose on Atlas’ path to the end. Unfortunately, it also fed the devil. In times of armed need, Atlas crosses paths with a rumored blacksmith from the Hyspian family of Santos. Camillo Santos creates Atlas his new signature weapons, The Blades of Hunger. Chains rattling and spinning around his arms in the midst of the upcoming battles. The devil within/The man in red was winning, and Atlas was losing. The man in red became so obsessed with taking over the fragile phantom that he even attacked the man who had made him his blades. “Diablo” they called him.

    The madness he was wreaking was not only dangerous, but contagious and it crossed the Obediah family. Almost completely flipping a switch in the mind of the well respected Isaac Daystar, his specter father Kenny Obediah takes the fall and sacrifices his sanity for his son. And so, the crimson spread plaguing those who dared cross the infamous man in red.

    Laurelai had now grown up. She was no longer a sweet little innocent girl, even though that's what he saw as the grown woman looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and duty. Atlas, in his little sanity he had, was growing tired of the endless cycle of rage and hunger. And there was only one person he could trust.

    With time and help, the place he was once worshiped as Aur’Dir Miles was found and finally they had his phylactory back. With enough contemplation, both Laurelai and Atlas agreed that it was time to put the ancient soldier to rest. It was time for him to fulfill his destiny and see his daughter's face for one last time.

     

     



    The northern winds howled through the ruins of the once holy place now all but rubbles. The red mist continuously flowing through the rock, the phylactery was flowing faster and faster. The trio arrived at the finish line of the cold journey. Rohir Vaueryn, Sergei Harold, and last but not least, Laurelai Holly. The only three he and the golden child allowed to witness. “So must it be.” He says, and gestured to them to ascend the stairs of the ruined church. His old and worn armor was stanced in the abandoned church. The armor now still and unworn was filled with an abyss of emptiness.

    Not many had seen him without his armor. Nothing less than a devil, he and his symbolic wings were wrapped in a chain. Like a parasite feeding on itself he was a devil trapped in a cycle of rage and hunger. It was finally time, and he stood atop of the rubbles and cried out his last words of a little less than three centuries.


     

    “I hear my soldiers cheering for me in the halls of the skies. I hear my mother weeping, waiting for her son to return to her graceful arms. I feel my fathers wisdom beckoning me to greatness. I feel the wrath of the man in red fading away. Release me from my chains, unbind me from this endless cycle of rage and hunger. The day has come where I can finally be at peace.”

    The giant crack in the roof of the church ceiling shined a light on the night, ushering Atlas closer and closer. And so, he raised his arms toward the sky embracing his long awaited end.

    Eliza, I’m coming. Hold out, my little sunshine. Father is coming home.”

    T
    he crimson eyes shut for a last time, and with three mighty strikes Laurelai shatters the phylactory, and with it shatters the chains. The cycle ends, and Atlas is finally and truly dead.



    To those he could not say goodbye to, he sent letters.

     

     
    Dame Viktoriya.

    I wanted to tell you goodbye in person but after some thinking I doubted you would let me go through with what I have done. If you’re reading this, I am feasting with the likes of Alren, Stafford, Willem and all our old friends. I can finally see my daughter's face again. The issue with my destiny never lied in my problem, but in my solution. I hope you understand. And I hope that you too will one day join us. I hope that you’ll one day forgive him. Forgiving was my most important lesson on my journey to death. Thank you for being a dear friend, and an even better comrade.

    See you soon, Lieutenant. Sincerely, 

    Atlas Hetlesaether.


     

     

     

     
    Jacquelyn Cenobia

    I don’t even know what your name is nowadays, I don’t even know if you’re still alive. It will be hard for you to make out what this means, but when we were both mortal humans I was a very close friend of yours and even though I never admitted it I loved you a lot more than I ever had the courage to show. Thank you, dear friend for being there for me when I died and for staying alive by my side when all of our comrades died one by one. I never wanted to return, I wanted to die that time by the ocean. It was a beautiful death. I was ushered back, but now I will return. It is time I rest.

    Love,

    Atlas Hetlesaether.


     

     

     

     
    Glod Grimgold

    Old friend, old enemy. You fought me enough times that you would have to count with both your hands but you need not worry that I need salvation anymore. If you’re reading this I have finally found my path to death. And after I write this, I am going to walk it. Next red ghost you fight, tell them you knew me.

    Your friend,

    Atlas.


     

     

     

     
    Alyssa Colborn

    I hope you do not read this letter in fear, but in relief. While I do not have full memory of everything I do know you fell victim to the madness I was trapped in. And for that, I am truly sorry. No amount of words written on a little letter could make up for it, and for all who I have crossed in uncontrolled confusion. Let it be known that you never have to walk a lonely road and look over your shoulder more often anymore because I have found peace and salvation and if you’re reading this I am dead. I hope you overcome your fear.

    Apologies,

    Atlas.


     


     

     
    Minuvas Malphestaus

    It has been a while since I have exchanged words with you, my dear friend. I am sorry to inform you that you will not be able to send any letter back unless you join me in death. It is time I return to what I was always destined to do. And when you’re reading this, I am likely crying of happiness holding on to my little girl in the skies. Thank you for everything, and thank you for seeing greatness in me when nobody did.

    Sincerely,

    Aur’Dir Miles.


     


    OOC NOTE

    Thank you, all of you so much for a nice journey. This character was created all the way back in Helena during the times where I had properly rejoined LOTC and has been some of the most fun, dramatic and amazing RP I have ever had. To all his friends, all his enemies, thank you. 

    Zakajaervi


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  12. MC Name:

             Zakajaervi

     

    Character's Name:

             Prometheus

     

    Character's Age:

             

     

    Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

             N/A

     

    Transformed form:

             Fire Atronach

     

    Creator's MC Name:

             PinkPyro

     

    Creator's RP Name:

             Kirja Scribe Edevane

     

    Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

             


    In order to create an Atronach the creator must use two crucial magics. Voidal Evocation and Transfiguration. What type of Atronach is created depends on the evocation used in the creation. An Atronarch is an elemental creation given sentience/consciousness. By binding an element to a sentient core the constructs do not actively rely on the mana pool of the creator. To learn Atronarch forging one must seek out a teacher that can give decided lessons over several IRL weeks until they mechanically have enough knowledge to create atronachs. Just like creating Atronachs requires evocation, to practice Atronach Creation you must be able to maintain voidal connection. The creation of Atronachs is a lengthy process containing the gathering of the materials for the plates and core, and the magic enchantments required to create the construct. The process has to be done in a calm and collected manner, outside of combat. The creator by default has to be connected to the void and so it can create a construct with the evocation of their choice, alternatively they may work together with another mage to create an Atronarch of another type. The creation of the magical core is what gives the Atronarch sentience and motion. The Core is also infused with enchantments and is made out of a large mana gem, encased in arcanum. With Transfiguration, a spell binds the chosen evocation to the core giving its main type functions. Constructs require a lot of mana to function, and thus the constructs have to be “recharged” via a mana obelisk or a mage can do it manually by redirecting mana into the construct. If a construct does not recharge, the element will vanquish and the construct will be useless and empty. An Atronarch has to visit its obelisk and recharge every two IRL weeks.

    An Atronarchs body is commonly humanoid. In addition to the core, it also consists of plates. It can be built to a maximum of 7’ feet. The amount of plates varies, and the plates are only crucial for liquid Atronarchs that need to maintain a liquid inside of their construct for functioning purposes. These plates can be made out of any material as long as it does not contradict other materials or the evocation used in creation. If an Atronarch is damaged they will begin to “bleed” out the liquid inside of their construct if they are liquid Atronarchs. If they are solid, they bleed out mana. Extra limbs may be added to the form of an Atronarch, however strength is always divided equally as if it were a regular Atronarch. Four, six, or even ten arms will always have the equal strength of two regular arms. An Atronarch does not possess human emotion but will strive toward experiencing something similar to happiness. They can speak like humans, though emotions never add color to their speech and they by default sound very dull and straight forward with little to no filter. An Atronarch always works toward the purpose the creator has set out for them. They see it as their very purpose for existence regardless of moral. An Atronarch is intelligent and learns quickly. An Atronarch will never try to hurt its creator and will never try to find loopholes in their creator's will. What the creator orders them to do, they do. The only way to fall out of this chain of order is if the creator dies. The Atronarch may then choose to die or choose another master to command them.

    In general, all Atronarchs are no stronger than Golems and will be destroyed if hit in the right place. A single regular human may have a hard time destroying one without proper knowledge on how to and would be easier in larger numbers. Constructs are weak to Fi, alteration, warding/abjuration as well as elements that oppose that one constructs evocation. Such as fire Atronarchs would be weak to water or frost.

    Fire Atronarchs

    Usually a metal construct imbued with fire, hot continuously flaming pyre in its center/inside of the plates and core. Made through Fire Evocation, they are the most volatile and dangerous form of construct and their attacks use voidal flame. Because their form is very ‘free’ they can adapt, and their attacks are less described as abilities but more like expanding their form. A strike like a fireball is more seen as ‘throwing’ a part of their form. As their voidal flames are very powerful it leaves them very vulnerable due to casting prowess. A fire Atronachs abilities ranges to the proficiency of a T5 Fire Master. When all Atronarchs die, they also automatically activate ‘Contingency’ which in this type of Atronarch causes an explosion in a concussive flurry of flames in all directions. This type of Atronarch has a weakness to Ice and Water which is the most effective way to defeat them. Being splashed with water greatly weakens a fire Atronarch as they will have problems procuring flames until it has dried. Being completely drenched will leave a Fire Atronarch rendered incapacitated. They also have all General Atronarch weaknesses such as Fi and warding/abjuration.


     

    If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

     

    A Fire Atronarch is a humanoid looking 'fire surrounded by plates' usually made out of metal. Sort of like a heap of armor but the inside of the armor is a consistantly flaming human form. And in its center is the core, "the heart" of the Atronarch. The plates can be made out of any material but it is usually metal or rock. The amount of plates and thickness of plates varies on the type of Atronarch, a fire Atronarch needs a lot of plates to contain the liquid. 

     

     

    Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

             no

     

    Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

             Yes

     

    Are you aware that if this creature is shelved, your character may be given the option to revert or be indefinitely shelved?

             Yes

     

    Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

             I understand

     

    Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

             no

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