Birdman

*A willowy goshawk circles above your head, dropping a scroll expertly into your grasp.* "Accepted. Report to Southbridge for further instructions."

*You hear the hoot of a barn owl, and the large bird drops a scroll in your lap.* "Accepted. Report to Southbridge for further instructions." ((add me on discord birdman#9444

*A swift falcon deposits a scroll in your laps.* Accepted. Report to Southbridge for further instructions. ((add me on discord birdman#9444

*A tawny kestrel deposits a scroll in your lap.* Accepted. Report to the guild's headquarters and await further instructions. ((add me on discord birdman#9444

Ecthallion sits in the Falconry, sorting through a large stack of parchment. Scribbling a few hasty notes, he fixes them to leg of his fastest courier bird. "Godspeed." he murmurs as he watches the beautiful gyrfalcon arc off towards the horizon. *A bird deposits a scroll in your lap.* Accepted. Report to the guild's headquarters and await further instructions. ((add me on discord: birdman#9444

THE RANGERS OF EASTWOOD A ranger patrol in the Sleetfells There exists a particular archetype in the collective imagination of Man. A primordial image, birthed somewhere in our cold and distant past: Beneath the trees stands a tall, solitary figure. A long cloak is drawn about his shoulders. In his weathered hand rests a walking-stave. A longbow and quiver are slung across his back. His soul aches with a deep longing for the wild and empty spaces of the world; the forests and hinterlands, the barren tundra, the rivers, the wastes. He is drawn to the outer rim of our lands, to places yet unexplored, to a nebulous and romanticized zone that we might call the Frontier. Some know them as Watchmen, others as Wardens. This character answers to many names, though perhaps to none more frequently than the Ranger. Rangers are not strictly professional soldiers. They stand in no lines, guard no gates, carry no painted shields. Nor are they mere foragers, content to eat berries and drink springwater. For the ranger, all of life is a battle. His fight does not begin at the bark of a general, or end with the war-horn’s howl. It began when Man first felt the bite of the cold in his chest, and the sting of heat scorching his brow. When he found himself alone and lost in a dark world- but saw for the first time the stars, put there by God in the heavens, charting him a path to freedom. The ranger’s fight doesn’t end til’ he breathes his last, and his soul joins the stars in their dance. PREAMBLE The Rangers of Eastwood are a brotherhood dedicated to forestry, combat, and the perfection of Virtue. They offer an escape from the elaborate prison that Man has built for himself in his cities- with their narrow, suffocating streets, their low roofs that break a man’s back and block out the sky, their accursed townhouses, sewers, and filthy alleys, their crowded taverns and empty churches- the whole ugly sprawl that Man is proud to call his home. A ranger leads a simpler, but undoubtedly richer life. His movement is easy and unrestricted. The Earth yields all her fruits to his watchful and discerning eye. When he is tired, she offers him a bed of leaves. When he is thirsty, a cold stream is his well. He can find God in the majesty of snow-capped mountains, in the petals of a wild rose, or in the gentle sound of canyon rain- for he worships in Creation itself as his temple. In all things, he thinks not of comfort, but of freedom. Though his life is often hard, his soul is at peace. The Rangers are loyal to the Empire of Oren, and are stationed at a strategic ford near the port of Eastfleet. They patrol the roads leading to Providence, keeping them free of bandits, poachers, and other errant dangers. As reservists in the Imperial Army, the Rangers are mobilized for any major military operations ordered by the Imperial Crown, but retain a fair degree of autonomy in their own sphere. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~RANKS~ A veteran ranger with his Cloak and a Wickerwood longbow The extravagance of a military guild’s long ladder of ranks seems rather out of place in the ranger’s world. Every ranger is expected to have the same base set of skills as any other. Naturally, some men take to certain tasks better than others, and if a mission calls for a particular man’s expertise, the Captain will designate him to lead it. But which skills will be most essential depends on the task at hand. The best man for one assignment may be the worst man for another. Thus, the rangers free themselves from the shackles of titular bureaucracy, and can award command on the basis of merit and the demands of their current objectives. Uncloaked Journeymen practice their aim in the Eastwood JOURNEYMAN New recruits to the guild are known as Journeyman, signifying their status as travelers on a sacred quest. Every Journeyman undergoes rigorous mental and physical training beside a class of fellows. Together, they learn to live off the land, to track men and beasts by the prints they leave behind, to read the sky, and to master the ranger’s weapon of choice- the wickerwood longbow. Upon the successful completion of their training, Journeymen are awarded two things: the first is a long Cloak, which he is to wear and maintain for the rest of his life. The second is his first Logbook, which he is to faithfully keep, until he turns it in to the Librarian at the end of a two year term, whereupon he receives a new one, which he carries for another two years, and so on and so on. RANGER Once a Journeyman has been found worthy to wear a Ranger’s Cloak, he is given the same responsibilities and privileges carried by all fully initiated members. As a Ranger, he is required to uphold the Arcus Creed, keep his Logbook, perform any missions assigned by the Captain, and be a model of virtue for others. He has unrestricted access to all the guild’s resources and knowledge, and can be delegated to lead missions by the Captain. Rangers accrue seniority and prestige in the guild by advancing through the class ladder, working their way up from Unmarked, to Third, Second, and finally First Class. A squadron of rangers setting an ambush WARDEN Senior rangers entrusted with command over their fellows, Wardens see to the everyday business of managing the guild- barking orders, overseeing new projects, and keeping everything in ship-shape. Never afraid to get their hands dirty, Wardens are grizzled veterans who would sooner die than betray the guild or its ideals. DEPUTY Deputies are second only to the Captain in the weight of their words amongst the Rangers. They are not appointed lightly- only a handful ever actively serve at one time. CAPTAIN The Captain is the executive head of the Eastwood Rangers. His main responsibilities consist of overseeing Journeyman training, planning and leading missions, delegating rangers to specialized ranks, and maintaining discipline across the guild. The Captain’s word is final, but this veto power is rarely if ever exercised. Serving Captain: Nikolas of Southbridge [eddywilson2 ] A ranger tracking a Hansetian bear through the Wyldes ~SPECIALIZED RANKS~ Adding some breadth to its sparse ranking structure, the guild maintains a host of specialized roles that can be filled by any ranger, with the approval of the Captain and his Deputies. THE LIBRARIAN Each ranger carries with him his Logbook, in which he records all of his works in service to the guild, observations about the territory he is in, the men he is with, flora, fauna, the lairs of monsters- anything that might be useful to travelers that follow in his footsteps. Every two years, rangers turn in their Logbooks to the guild Librarian. The Librarian’s first task is to organize these logbooks, and extract any useful or interesting information from them. But his duties extend far beyond this. The Librarian is the guild’s link to humanity’s vast treasury of theoretical knowledge, history, and culture, and provides a healthy offset to the guild’s wealth of experiential insight. THE QUARTERMASTER The guild pools all of its resources into a single warehouse that any ranger can access if he has need. The Quartermaster is in charge of managing the guild’s stores, keeping them tidy, well stocked, and accessible at a moment’s notice. The Quartermaster has the secondary duty of handling, distributing, and inspecting the guild’s weapons and tools. THE BEASTMASTER On their long expeditions into the wild, and across all the realms of the Descendants, rangers are prone to encounter creatures both fantastical and dangerous. It is the Beastmaster’s duty to take note of the unique behavior and abilities of these beings, and to carefully document those which seem particularly deadly, for the sake of any rangers that might run afoul of them. MASTER FALCONER During his Journeyman years, each ranger takes a young hawk, eagle, owl, or falcon into his care. The training of this young hunter parallels his own, and by the time he takes his oath and dons his Cloak, his animal companion is fully grown, and fully imprinted upon his master. When not perched on a ranger’s wrist, or circling above his head, trained birds are housed in the Lodge’s Aviary under the care of the Master Falconer. Alongside his duties in the Aviary, the Master Falconer is responsible for training Journeymen in the proper care of their new, feathered charges. THE APOTHECARY Though every ranger is trained in rudimentary herbalism, the Apothecary serves as the guild’s authority on the practical applications of botany. Similar to the Chief Falconer, the Apothecary oversees the guild’s stores of herbs, and is also responsible for introducing Journeymen to their unceasing usefulness and wonder. CHIEF CARTOGRAPHER Foremost among the duties of every ranger is his imperative to give mankind detailed maps of the natural terrain. It is not uncommon for the Captain to send out an expedition of rangers to spend several days charting a range of mountains, or meticulously mapping a forest. The Chief Cartographer’s duty is to take the labors of all his fellows and turn them into something comprehensive, readable, and properly useful. To qualify for his position, he must be a master navigator, skilled at geometry, and have a sharp eye for detail. He also enjoys the pleasure of having a large say in what to name the landmarks and trails that his comrades in the field have found or blazed. On the hunt ~SPECIALIZED DIVISIONS~ On top of a slew of positions to be filled by qualified members, the guild has marked out two divisions of specialists that require additional training and a particular skillset. Each division is headed by a trusted Ranger, selected personally by the Captain. BLACKHAWKS While every member of the guild receives extensive combat training, and can fight reliably under any conditions if called upon, Blackhawks are rangers that have proven themselves to be extremely deadly in battle. They are distinguished by being the only rangers licensed to complete missions where killing other men is necessary for the mission’s success, and are issued a new black Cloak to set them apart from their peers. HEXERS The guild boasts a small division of professional mages- rangers trained in one or more of the arcane arts. The Captain often sends a hexer to accompany ranger expeditions into unknown territory, on the off chance that the patrol encounters magical phenomena. A cloaked ranger with his trained hawk ~THE ARCUS CREED~ In the final stage of his training, a Journeyman keeps a Vow of Silence for one year, to train his will, sharpen his mind, and make him careful with his tongue. During this time, though he is permitted to write and gesture to communicate, a Journeyman cannot speak a single word from his mouth. On the final night of the year, the Captain assembles the entire Journeyman class in a secret grove. At midnight, the first words that a Journeyman speaks after a year of keeping silent are the words of the Arcus Creed, transcribed below: To speak merely what is needful, To be modest in speech, dress, and deed, To be truthful and sincere in all dealings between men, To own only what I need, To scorn comfort, To love freedom, And to keep my word. With God, the forest, and my innermost soul as my witnesses, I swear. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~RECRUITMENT~ A ranger guide on the Sitka trail Admission to the guild is open to any who seek it. But be warned- the life of a ranger is not for the faint of heart. For all of our poetic talk about the pleasures of a simple life, the rewards of self-sufficiency, and the boundless wonder of God’s Creation- though true- does not tell the full story. If you would join our ranks, you will spend countless months of your short life lost and far from home, with only a faded map, the stars, and your wits to bring you safely back. You will spend many hours with a parched throat, desperately searching for a mountain brook from which to drink- and spend many more lying feverish on a grubby cot, waiting for the parasites you have swallowed to be washed out of your system. You will spend many cold and sleepless nights listening to the distant howls of direwolves, wondering if you will live to see the dawn. But the guild can promise you this: you will never be left to face these challenges alone. You will need only look across the dying embers of your campfire to see your fellow rangers, bows in hand and eyes alight, ready to lay down their lives on your behalf. And in the innermost depths of your heart, you will know beyond a doubt that you would do the same for them. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SHOULD YOU WISH TO ENLIST, FILL OUT THE APPLICATION BELOW, OR SEEK OUT CAPTAIN NIKOLAS [IGN: eddywilson2] ECTHALLION ATREIDES (IGN: birdnerdy), OR CASSIUS CRUZ [IGN: cruzalul] AT THE GUILD’S HEADQUARTERS. Directions: 1) From Cloud Temple, take the Eastward Fast Travel. 2)Take the road north towards Providence. 3) Cross the bridge over the little brook, and you’ve arrived! Coordinates: X: 1785 Z: 145 Admission Requirements ~Applicants must be in adequate physical shape to endure the hardships of a ranger’s life~ ~Applicants must renounce all allegiances to and positions within other military or civic guilds~ ~Applicants must consent to a personal interview with the Captain or one of his deputies, and be deemed fit for admission to the guild’s ranks~ APPLICATION Name: Age: Race: Prior Relevant Experience:

Hello, I am willing to pay somewhere between 10 and 25 US dollars for the following request: These skins will be used for a guild of ranger/woodsmen types. We need a base skin, for the rank and file of the guild to wear. We also need a few variants of this base skin- some color tweaks to designate special positions within the guild, and a plainer version of the skin for new recruits. Below are some art pieces to give a general idea of what we are looking for. Discord is birdman#9444, please reach out to me if you will take on this request. Pricing accords with how much work you want to do. The more variants you make, the more I will pay, going up to $25. Just the base skin would be a flat $10. Either way, I will pay $10 up front, and if you are doing additional skins, I will pay the rest once you are finished.

Magnus, his soul stirred to flight by the notice, sends the man a carefully written letter, hoping to impress him with what little he can muster in literary talent.

Full Name: Magnus Colborn Date of Birth: The records have been destroyed, but it would be about 30 years ago. Place of Birth: A farmstead outside of New Reza. Address [N/A if none]: N/A Race: Human Gender: Male Bloodline [Commoner/Noble/Former Noble/Royal]: Commoner Reason for Enlisting: To keep an old promise. [Username: ] birdnerdy [Discord: ] birdman#9444

The Emperor and four of his men were traveling together in the wild country, and found their passage blocked by a thundering river. They could see a bridge that safely crossed over the frothing rapids, and moved to make their way across. However, when they came closer to the bridge, they found it blocked by the massive body of a slumbering bear. “If you would prove your worth to me, and to your Empire,” said the Emperor, “remove this obstacle from our path. The man who does so will be greatly honored.” The Renatian was the first to step up. Drawing his longsword, his steely features radiated confidence as he advanced upon the bear. The bear, noticing a threat, rose to its hind legs, unsheathed its claws, and let out a chilling roar. The Renatian did not flinch (for fear had long since been banished from his heart,) but saw instantly that the bear could easily beat him in battle, and must therefore be his superior. The only thing that the Renatian understood was the language of winning and losing, of domination and submission, of masters and slaves. He could see clearly that he was doomed to lose any fight with this bear, and with it, his only source of honor and esteem. “It cannot be done.” said the Renatian, backing down. “Allow me.” said the Savoyard, with a cunning smile. Seeing clearly that the bear could not be killed swiftly with a blade, he decided instead to attack it with temptation. Dangling a honeycomb just out of its reach, the Savoyard employed all of his deceptions and tricks, trying to tempt the bear away from its post. But the bear simply let out a snort, only seeming to find amusement in the Savoyard’s antics, and refused to budge. The Raevir was next. As is common amongst his people, the Raevir came from an enormous brood, and had a seemingly endless string of brothers, uncles, cousins, and family friends to call upon. Within an hour, he had assembled all of his kin and acquaintances who happened to live within a few miles of the bridge to come and fight beside him. The band of strelts advanced upon their enormous foe, teeth bared, locked shoulder to shoulder. But the bear was no more worried by the mob of Raevir than he had been by the single Renatian. Batting away their pitchforks with his paw, the bear held his ground, and the strelts scattered. At last, all eyes turned to the Haeseni. Though he was not the strongest man in the party, nor the cleverest, nor best liked or well connected, the Haeseni had a look of grim determination that had been absent from the faces of his predecessors. Without a word, he advanced on the bear, and hurled himself upon the great foe. Locking arms, the two were soon engaged in a fearful wrestling match. For three days, and three nights, man and beast struggled without resting. Many times the Haeseni seemed close to defeat, but when the hour was darkest, he muttered something to himself, and fought on. On the morning of the fourth day, just as sunbeams began to creep across the sky, the bear, mouth foaming and half-mad with fatigue, collapsed, exhausted, at the feet of the Haeseni. The northman drew his blade to dispatch his foe, but stayed himself, allowing the bear to retreat back into its forest home. With the path now clear, the Haeseni stepped aside and bent his knee, allowing the Emperor to cross before him. As the Emperor passed beside the victorious soldier, he stopped- a royal smile lighting up his face, and spoke: “Before we continue our travels, tell me, Haenseman,- what was the watchword that you kept repeating to yourself during the struggle?” The man replied with the words written on the heart of every man, woman, and child of Haense- living, dead, and unborn: “I would have perished had I not persisted.” -From the pen of John Walker

HAENSE: THE FRONTIER STATE Can the character of an entire people be summed up in one sentence? At first glance, this task seems daunting- capturing the lives of thousands of men and women, each with their own unique hopes, fears, deeds and dreams, in mere written words feels absurd. But if one thinks about the problem a little further, it becomes plain that the task is not so troublesome as it appears. For if anything can be said to tie together all of these disparate individual lives, it must be an idea or characteristic so basic, so essential to their being, that it would be simple and clear enough to be understood by even a child. For example, ask yourself- what is a Kaedreni? The answer comes easily enough: a Kaedreni is a soldier. The Kaedreni people have served the Empire in countless ways, as warriors, stewards, statesmen, and even its leaders. But when one pictures the archetypal Kaedreni in his mind- a representative man for his entire people- one cannot help but picture a White Rose Orderman, built stronger and wound tighter than the loaded crossbow in his hands, ready to lay down his life to protect the good people of Oren. What is a Horen? A Horen is a ruler of men. Can one even picture a Horen as anyone other? Anywhere but the head of the table, anything but the center in the Tapestry of Man? It is perverse to even think of. Indeed, when one looks upon the many cadet branches of the great House strewn throughout the gentry and petty noble classes, one cannot help but feel that they are incomplete, like a familiar dish missing a key ingredient. They lack that essential trait of Horens- their regality- the quality that makes the Horens who they are. Without it, these lesser cousins will always feel feeble and out of place when placed beside their kingly kin. To carry this point further- can one imagine a Norlander that did not feel a patriotic ache for rebellion against his fellow men in his heart? It is scarcely possible (though one might hope that were.) With this preamble now behind us, we are prepared to tackle the question at the heart of this piece: What is Haense? What is that essential quality that makes the Haeseni who they are? When the sun sets in the West, it can warm the coldest heart you see And the Heartlanders have their fields and flowers, so beatiful, and gay But when I look out at those misty pines, I know there is nowhere I’d rather be For the North is my land, and it is so much more than clay The beauty of other regions is ephemeral, oh sadly so But not the glory of Haense, oh no -Alister Wailer, Warrior-Poet of Haense Just over two centuries ago, the hussar-lords of the Atheran North gathered in the Hiebenhall keep and bent the knee to Karl Barbanov, the first Duke of Haense. How was this achieved? It is easy for the modern Haeseni burgher in his comfortable townhouse to forget; the realm that would one day become Haense was won with steel. In the year 1497, Andrik Vydra threw down his gauntlet on the bridge, and so began a long campaign to unify the disparate Northern peoples into one state and bring them into the Canonist fold. Accompanying the professional soldiers deployed by the Orenian Crown was a motley collection of less-than-professional troops: loggers, fur traders, prospectors, Raevir stranniks, bohemian characters disenfranchised from mainland Oren, and countless second sons looking to carve off a piece of the map for themselves. These hardy men and women fought viciously in battle on the Kingdom’s behalf, then built their homesteads on newly conquered land to complete Oren’s victory. This early crop of settlers intermarried with those highlander clansmen that had adopted the Canon and migrated to Siegrad. From the ensuing mix came the first native Haeseni population, and the first notion of a distinctive Haeseni identity. Ask any man of Siegrad what his purpose for living, for breathing, for being was, and he would answer you confidently: “Settling the North, and making my own name.” What was meant by this? “The North” was the Orenian frontier of those days- untamed, dangerous- but laden with untapped wealth and opportunity. Haense served as the gateway to that wild borderland, and as a facilitator to its exploration. Adventurers and fortune-seekers left their homesteads and their past selves in the Orenian heartland behind, constructed new homes and new identities on brackish Northern soil, and called themselves Haensemen. Their new, rough-hewn existence, and self regard as pioneers, was tied inextricably to the backwoods state which was now their home: to Haense. This was the Haeseni identity: the relationship between the individual man, his ambition, and the wilderness that was his home. A Haenseman was an individual who struck out to places yet unexplored- the proverbial the edge of the map- to find his fame, to find his fortune, and to find himself. Haense’s identity as the Orenian marchland, as a “Frontier State,” is the only stable identity it has ever possessed. Indeed; the only times that Haense has ever been master of its own destiny, ever truly “mounted the world,” have been when it fully embraced this immutable fact of its existence. Peter Barbanov and his court understood this- they conquered and colonized the vast Northern reaches of Axios in a quest to earn their royal pedigree. King Stephen and Heinrik Bihar understood this- they rebuilt the Kingdom from a mound of ash, and made her a contender on the world stage. And of course, Karl Barbanov and his companion-founders understood this- for their works inspired all the rest. For Haense is more than a sum of titles. The core of its identity lies somewhere beyond the scope of its heritage- in something greater than the mere addition of its Hansetian and Ruskan ancestry, or the influence of any Heartland realm. It unfolds itself in the lives of the Haeseni people, and is sustained by the faithful work they do on behalf of their great nation. What is Haense? Haense is the Frontier State. It is the end of man’s reach, the last light before the darkness. It has always been so, and it will always be so. We only need to remember. -From the pen of John Walker

I will always remember you for Thomas Gloop, that sci fi server we played on with yoppl and Malgonious, and all of our fun times in teamspeak back in the day. Even though we ended up on opposite sides of the line most of the time, I always cheered for you in my heart. I always respected you as one of the people who walked the walk. Take care my friend.

I agree with my friend bird here.

Thank you for the replies! I feel very content.

I’ve always thought that posts such as these were frivolous, but I’m sentimental enough nowadays to make one anyways. Though I did log in every so often, it’s been about a year and a half since I actively played LOTC. In that interim, I’ve learned, grown, and changed enough to comfortably divorce myself from the side of myself that I used to present to our community. While I was involved in a lot of creative projects that I remain proud of, and made friends that I count among my closest (online or IRL,) I said a lot of things to a lot of people that I regret. While this list is hardly complete, and I’ve spoken to many of you individually, I still find it important to right any outstanding wrongs of mine before I return to the community full time. To @JoelTheGinger, I apologize sincerely for all of my past mistreatment of you. Though nobody deserves to be randomly slandered or slurred, I feel especially bad for being cruel to somebody that would go on to do a lot of work for the Haense community, without a doubt my biggest LOTC soft spot. I recall us being quite friendly when I was playing Karl Sigmar the regent, and you were playing Anna Sophia when she was affiliated with the Amadors- let’s return to those times! To any players that were in my “out group” when I last played- (playerbases that Oren or Haense have ever had friction with) -if I had said anything dumb about you in passing, take them as the words of a young screamer still finding his way. Lotc and the internet at large can make us awfully tribal, I’d like to be better at defeating that, and help others to do so as well. And to my fellow Barbanov Office employees (@NJBB, @Pureimp10, @HurferDurfer1, the whole gang,) I apologize for ever letting angst over LOTC politics get me to drive away some of the best people I ever met on here. Every one of you is smart, funny, kind, and sincere in your own way. I’d like to be your friend again, if you’ll have me. All that being said, I do love this place, warts and all, and I’m ready to engage with it in a healthier way going forward! Though it does seem that a lot has changed. To the people who knew me, what is something that happened in the last year that I would find shocking or funny? To anyone else reading this post- I’m really into the Beatles right now, so let me know your favorite Beatles track! Peace and love everybody P.S: Please spare me the indulgence of a new forum account. I seem to have lost the password to my recovery email, so I can only access my old account from my mobile phone. Shame- I had accrued a sizeable rep count on the old boy, but here’s to new beginnings.