AstriaS

Vikne Kjeldsdóttir gave out something of a jaded sigh, and set about preparing for a trip.

Seated comfortably somewhere in the far north, Vikne Kjeldsdóttir, a Svarling of quite some infamy, let out a quiet, thoughtful hum as the affairs of the South were relayed to her. "So, the land burns with the fires of war, and apparently we missed some of the hillmen when we put that hamlet to the sword," She observed, pushing herself to her feet and pacing about in the middle of the room for a moment. "Hm. I suppose I'll have to keep an eye on all of this." Casimira, meanwhile, was too busy color-coding and reorganizing everything in her bedchamber for the fifth time this month, and so didn't really take notice of the current goings-on. Ignorance is, in fact, bliss.

Rævna still thought that violence was the answer, and was quite disappointed that nobody agreed.

Mera Camian, who probably hates puppies and butterflies and candy, simply remarked, "I f***ing hate children."

Mera Camian sighed in mild frustration at the announcement. "I hate politics." Casimira similarly sighed in mild frustration, pacing about her office and mumbling to herself, "Why do we bother with foreigners? Do we not have better things to do?" Velsyni Indoren nodded a few times, not particularly caring but nonetheless remarking, "Hey, that's pretty good."

Mera Camian frowned a rather sour sort of frown, finding herself in something of a grinch-y mood this holiday season. "Too many damn parties... But I guess I'll go."

Mera Camian looked out her window and kicked her feet up on her desk, feeling rather indifferent about the whole business at hand. "I am no fan of wars, but sometimes violence is the way forward, I suppose." Alisa Camian cackled in the afterlife at the reemergence of the alliance she had spent many of her years maintaining.

[!] Flyers are posted around Norland and the lands of friendly nations, pinned to bulletin boards, stuffed into mailboxes, and passed out by a cadre of particularly diligent- and festively-dressed- couriers. The Varhelm Wintertide Celebration An Invitation TO ALL WHO WISH TO ATTEND, With the height of the winter upon us, the season of festivity has again come to the lands of the world, and in Norland it is no different. Though cold and often gloomy, the winter remains a time of celebration for all. Marking the ending of the year and the coming of a new spring, it is a season for celebrating life, new growth and accomplishment, and so we have endeavored to put together a celebration worthy of the season. THE FEAST As is the tradition, the celebration will begin with a feast held in the great hall of the Varhelm Palace, open to any and all who wish to come. Food and drink- seasonal favorites in particular- will be provided for all attendees. THE FESTIVE DRESS CONTEST For those who choose to dress in their finest holiday attire- and everyone is encouraged to do so- and wish to find occasion to show off, there will be a contest to decide whose wardrobe is the most festive and jolly. Entrants will be judged based on their outfit’s style and magnitude of festiveness, and the winner will receive a monetary prize of 150 Minas. Festival attendants themselves will act as the judges for this contest, with a tiebreaker vote held in reserve by yours truly. THE EVENING’S ENTERTAINMENT When the feast and contest have concluded, remaining attendees will be shown to the Palace Theater, where they will be treated to fine music and the pleasant company of their fellow man for the rest of the evening. During this time, the theater’s stage will be open to anyone who wishes to take it, whether to entertain or simply to orate. Direct invitations are hereby extended to the following: All Citizens of Norland Clan Edvardsson Clan Freysson Clan Eiriksson Clan Camian Clan Faretto Clan Kazimir Clan Vildr Friends of the Kingdom of Norland, including: The Zhu and People of the Jade State of Yong Ping The Prince and People of the Princedom of Fenn The Grand King and People of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan Signed, Casimira OOC: Time and Date: Sunday December 19th, 5:00 PM EST Location: Varhelm Palace

Boy I sure do love tree lore.

"It's like watching an arsonist set a fire and then blaming the owner of the house when he gets burned," remarked Mera Camian.

Vikne read over the missive that had been pinned to the corpse once it had been delivered. "Your antics are most tiring." She simply remarked.

Mera Camian simply responded, "I've seen this one before." And with that, she proceeded to clean off her desk, preemptively expecting meetings to follow in the coming days, productive or otherwise.

Velsyni Indoren, who had been too busy rearranging her furniture to pay attention to politics, was pestered for a response by one of her friends. Begrudgingly, she rolled her eyes and said the following; "The Indorens have never been plagued by such troubles. Last time the Irehearts were having a trial spree, I started selling false ear tips- remarkably stylish ones, by the way- for the affected. I would do it again, but I have no intention of lifting Taurus' proscriptions against Clan Indoren doing business in the Empire. Bother me when it becomes profitable." She concluded her brief tangent, and then went back to rearranging the room to make it a perfect, flipped reflection of the original decor. Quite why she was doing this was unclear, but it most likely was just because it was amusing to her.

Please. +1

With the playoff position secured, Mera Camian, the newly inaugurated leader of the Beserker Superfan Association, ordered her fellow fans to celebrate with all of the vigour and moxie they could muster. As a result, the city of Varhelm was covered in graffiti, burning furniture, and keg-guzzling revelers. The unending playoff rager had begun, and it would not stop until the playoffs had concluded. Velsyni Indoren, in response to the beginning of the unending party, hired a handful of guards to defend her properties in Norland- specifically, guards who didn't care about the sport, and thus would not be convinced to partake in the festivities. Meanwhile, she began selling food and drinks (and some other substances) at half-price to people wearing Beserkers merch, while also marking up the prices on said merchandise in her stores in response to "increased demand".

Mera Camian looked down upon the corpse of a decapitated squirrel, who happened to be named Richard, with disdain.

A particular woman rolled her eyes and threw something of a fit at the news of the discovered body. "This is a trespass I cannot abide. I will see to the resolution of this matter myself, if I must." She said with a vitriolic hiss. "But, patience first. Patience first..." With that, the woman began preparing her things for a trip south.

Mera Camian quietly writhed at the idea of something so democratic, finding the concept to be really quite vexing; too prone to inefficient decision-making to be worthwhile. But, she realized that it ultimately didn't matter that much to her in the end. "Sure, I'll go, I guess. If I'm not busy, anyway." Vikne Kjeldsdottir continued to move forward with her designs, plotting and planning just to the North of where this proposed meeting was to be held. Around her, axes and swords threw sparks at grindstones, and hammers and nails rang out in a terrible cacophony. Preparations were being made, and it would be only a matter of time before the Warmaiden's machinations were brought to bear.

Mera Camian proceeded to violently bludgeon the nearest elf with a snack bucket from the concession stand, being something of a sore loser. However, in a stroke of luck, the elf in question was more than happy to indulge the fight, and the two went on to settle their differences and go their separate ways thereafter, presumably becoming pen pals.

[Art by Mateusz Horbowiec] A Letter to the Nordmenn ♪♪♪ The cracking of ice resounded along the northern coast as three longships made landfall, and the stones of the rocky shore rolled and crunched beneath the feet of the Svarlandic crewmen as they disembarked. And leading them ashore was none other than Vikne Kjeldsdóttir. It had been some time since her boots had touched these shores, and she could feel a change in the winds. After her Lord had issued his demand for Svarlgeld, the warmaiden had chosen to return to their homeland- across the seas to distant Svarland where she had collected warriors and wisemen alike into her company, and reminded those who had forgotten of Lord Zharrtyr’s authority in their lands. But now she had returned, stronger and more experienced with fresh warriors at her back, come to lay eyes upon the works of their Chosen in this alien land. Yet, something it seemed had changed, though Vikne could not quite place it- a small, biting paranoia, perhaps, she concluded. Through the ice and wind, as she had done once before, the Svarling commander trudged to the west- leading her cohort to their new home in this foreign land. And as Vikne and her men arrived at the gates of what once was the encampment of Vesturtjörnbúðir, the woman turned, briefly, and directed the warriors’ attention southeast, towards the Norlandic edifice- the cliffside walls of the city of Varhelm. “That,” she began to simply explain to her soldiers, “is the home of the enemy. It will burn soon enough.” Her words were simple, direct, and most importantly honest. This was no mere boast, in her mind, but rather a promise of glories to come. With construction still underway on this new stronghold, Vikne watched as the captured laborers slaved away laying brick and erecting wooden frames for buildings. This she found most pleasing; the creation of a true foothold in this new land. Yet what she learned about recent events, she found to be less than so. In fact, she took personal offense, and so did she set about dictating a letter- a letter which would find itself delivered to the gates of Varhelm in the hands of a blinded, half-tongued slave. To the men of the Nordland, It has been some few years since last I laid eyes on the walls of your capital, and yet where I had thought to find steel- a folk tempered in the furnace of war- I have instead found even less than my lowest expectation. It has been brought to my attention that not only did you fail to meet my Lord’s demands, you did not even have the honour and the power of will to deny them outright. Again, your inaction proves to be the greatest of your shortcomings. This is, in the most direct terms, unacceptable; it is an insult. And an insult laid at the feet of a King is an insult laid at the feet of those who serve him. An insult against my own honour, I cannot abide. Unlike my Lord, I have learned your tongue to fluency in both spoken word and in literacy, so I will explain directly that which I wish to say, that it may not be misunderstood or mistranslated by poorly-learned scribes. I say this to you; for a decade and a half, or near thereabouts, have I measured your worth and found you wanting. In this time you and your warriors have proven naught but that you are too weak and feeble-minded to serve as leaders of men, let alone as the stewards of an entire folk. For too long have you allowed a poisonous complacency to take hold of you, to weaken you. For too long have you followed your gods of cowardice. You have fallen from any glories you may have once held. It is for this reason, and for your insult against my Lord and myself, that I do declare the following: I will come for you. My cohort will once more fall upon your lands and leave ash and blood in their wake. I will bring strife and sorrow in the Serpent’s name, offer the souls of the slain in sacrifice, and when I am done, my name will be sung in praise by Gods and Men alike in Nárgrindheim. I tell you this so that you might prepare; offer me what resistance you can muster. Til Nárgrindheim Vikne Kjeldsdóttir of Brimnesskogar, Shieldmaiden of the Chosen

Mera Camian, whilst in the the middle of helping some fellow fans overturn a cart that dared to have a Pigeons logo painted on its side, paused a moment to consider whether this was all perhaps getting a bit out of hand. The cart was overturned nonetheless.

The once-injured Beserkers superfans, Mera Camian among them, had by this point had a week to convalesce from their various cuts, sprains and other varying ailments. And so, as if they had learned nothing from the time before, they again set about the task of, simply put, partying too hard. To their credit, however, they did decide to appoint one of their number to the position of 'dedicated voice of reason', whose task was to remain sober and prevent the Superfan Horde from destroying the city again. The effect of this change was minimal, but at least the storefronts were mostly spared this time, and there were fewer injuries.

I seem to be having the same issue. I was logged in without issue for a hot minute, and then tried relogging to change skins and it borked. My alt, however, is still, as of my writing this, logged in with no apparent trouble, but trying to do /lobby renders the following: Seems something's broken. RIP. EDIT: The 4:00 PM restart just went by. My alt disconnected trying to connect to the lobby, but was able to reconnect to the server seemingly without issue. Doing /lobby1 still renders the error. Decided to try logging in with my second alt. No issues, so I tried a launcher restart. Main account still affected.