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CRP Goon

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  • Minecraft Username
    epicworld123

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Oryl Sirame
  • Character Race
    Wood Elf

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  1. A certain Mali'ame warrior squints at his work, crossing his arms. "A ******* what?"
  2. Kinsbane, Terror of the Southern Seas Deep in the warm southern oceans, far beyond the reaches of Almaris, something stirred in the deep. A twisted soul, deviant and malicious. A creature so wretched, that even amongst her own ilk she was abhorrent. The sirens of the Southern Seas were like none Almaris had seen before. Islands far to the southeast, where trade routes ran aplenty and villages relied on the bounty of the sea, all who came to pass would hear of the tales. The Devils of the Sea. Those who made their living in the southern isles came to worship crueler gods than the descendants of Almaris, for the sea was unforgiving. Sirens, larger in size and twice as strong as their northern counterparts roamed the open oceans as well as the reefs. Powerful strokes and eerie calls carried them from first hatch to first kill. Still to come was the strongest among them. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ A century had passed since the emergence of her. A siren unlike any other. Her origin unknown, her purpose not clear, a demon sent by the very Gods of the sea is what the fishermen had declared. At first, she grew to twice the size of her siblings. Some feared her, some followed her, for wherever she went, blood was sure to spill. Strong, powerful, she outclassed all of even the largest southern sirens, and still she grew. As she grew, so did her hunger. The sirens of the Southern Seas were so great in number, that even the unprecedented bounty of the reefs and currents of the open ocean could not support them. They turned on each other, fighting for food and nesting caves. Such competition bred stronger and stronger creatures. Yet wherever she went, the tides turned in her favor. Hunting from below, and the swiftest of them all, she killed. Though, this one was different. She killed for sport, and consumed the very flesh of her kind. A hunger that none of the ocean’s bounties could satiate. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Soon, the Southern Seas were unified under one terror. Kinsbane, the siren who consumed any and all who dared challenge her. Reefs fell motionless in her presence, her kind long since adopting a taste for descendant flesh. In the villages, day and night, her horde amassed. One by one, the villagers were starved out of their homes and onto ships where not a mast could be seen passing the horizon. For what lurked beneath the choppy waters was beyond what any of them had ever seen before. Kinsbane became a legend. A God. A Devil. Trade routes ran dry, shipwrecks only stacked higher. The once-bountiful waters of the Southern Seas had become black with the shadows of sunken ships. Some called it The Graveyard, others called it The Forest, for the sea of masts and bows protruding from the shallow waters was reminiscent of vast woodlands that had been burned to the ground - all life abandoned. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The horde of Kinsbane had become an army. Battle-hardened sirens with a taste for all flesh, unified under their hunger, and their fear of her whose own hunger was insatiable. The reefs could not sustain them, and rather than consume each-other, the army of Kinsbane migrated. They followed the trail of fleeing ships. The likes of which held the only ones who knew what horrors had befallen the once-flourishing isles of the Southern Seas. The army of Kinsbane made landfall even further south. The few surviving fishermen who had told tales of ruin and wrath had amassed a fleet. A thousand ships sailed out into the open waters to meet those foul monsters that had fated their allies. Armed with bows, fishing spears and axes, the islands’ best warriors took to the seas in their canoes and rowboats. A formidable army of fishermen, merchants and warriors from the surrounding waters had banded together to fight the incoming horde. The tides would soon run red. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The bow of the first schooner cracked and its mast split. Kinsbane herself met the ship head-on, as lightning set its sails aflame. A storm had brewed, and the skies blackened. The screams of the first to succumb to the hunger of The Insatiable rang out across the water. Fear, terror, and fire sent the first men into the waters. They barely broke the surface before Kinsbane’s followers tore them to pieces. They were ravenous. The water was alive with death itself. Even louder than the screams of the dying men was the horrific call of Kinsbane, and even louder than the deafening, incessant rolls of thunder was the call of The Insatiable, answering their Devil’s cry. Thousands of drowned voices rising up from the sea as each and every one of the horrific sirens emitted a bio luminescent hue, singing and glowing in unison. A melancholy song to accompany the irradiant glow of death, insuperable. The spears of men, elves and dwarves alike splintered as their hulls did against the tide of Kinsbane’s army. War was upon them. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The thunder subsided. The break of a red dawn cast a light befittingly over the crimson waves. Miles away, blood lapped at the shores of the empty islands. The forces of the Descendants had risen against the Terror of the Southern Seas and broken. Not a creature stirred. Not whales, not fish, not sharks, not men. Wood from the wreckage spanned from the reddened beaches to the crest of the horizon - with not a survivor to be found. Kinsbane and The Insatiable had fed once again. Warmer waters carried them north. Past The Forest, and into the southeast bay of Almaris. The reefs, once flourishing, would soon begin to taint. All thriving in the shimmering summer waters would soon come to know fear and death as the hulking shadow of Kinsbane and the glow of The Insatiable left nothing but blood in their wake. The Terror of the Southern Seas had reached Nevaehlen, and it was time to feed.
  3. I absolutely love the idea of expanding on Taynei's family and connection to nature. It gives potential for diversity for players more interested in the Aspectist side of things who may not have been overly captivated by the thought of druidism by itself. It was a good read and I know how much work it took to shape it up. I'd love to see this (or a version of it) accepted and implemented! :D
  4. A Melancholy Serenade Of Crimson Shores The winds off the coast of Nevaehlen carry the familiar scent of salt, seaweed and driftwood. Pristine waters glitter in the light of the sun as it beats down upon the soft sand bordering the reclaimed village. Fish dart between rays of light in the shallows, and nearby trees cast shade upon the rippling water. Soon, however, the cries of seagulls and crashing of waves finds itself joined by another. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ A child skips along the road, tossing pebbles and kicking rocks. He whistles to himself, curly blonde hair obscuring his sight on occasion. It’s not long before he stops. The call of the beach finds him. He strays from the main road, intrigued by the crash of the waves and the beautiful mounds of sand. He’s soon intrigued by another call, though. One far more sinister. One that proved fatal to answer. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ To those within the sandstone walls of The Vale, the sounds of nature would have been cut through by an eerie, chilling call. A beautiful chorus arises from the water. The alluring wail imploring all with a curious mind to seek out its origin. It would hang in the air, sounding quite peaceful, sad almost. The melody grows in volume. Swelling and fading with the waves, before it is silenced altogether. For three short moments, the sound of the waves returns, cascading in after the quick recession of the peculiar song. The silence is short-lived, however. The ear-splitting screech of a child in fear and pain splits through the shining, summer afternoon before the cry is abruptly silenced with a choking gurgle. Pink foam soon caresses the beach, before the song resumes. Beauty juxtaposed only by its dreadful origin. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The rangers of Nevaehlen are quick to answer. A young druidess and a warrior walking the sunlit path are the first to find all that remains of the blonde haired boy. Crimson shores accompany the melancholy serenade. Soon, the approaching Malii are thrust into battle. Blue, scaly creatures leap from the edge of the shallow waters with teeth and claws. The first to rise are met with steel and malice, tumbling back to be reclaimed by the sea in a wave of darkened blood and flying oily scales. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ A once peaceful beach now rolls over with chaos. Sand flies as the feet of approaching warriors - laden with weapons and armor - answer the call of the sea and rise to the challenge. Teeth and claws find themselves clashing with the blades of The Vale’s warriors. Elven steel, some wrought from fallen stars, others from only the finest ores, pierce through the flesh of the sirens. Cries of allure, intrigue and deception soon turn into waves and waves of furious screeches. Something deeper lies beyond. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The sharpened skills and honed blades of the Mali’ame fight back the never-ending tide of writhing creatures. The beach is assaulted, the army of the sea beckons any and all who dare test their mettle to meet them where red tides roll sandy hills. The ‘ame are not without their wounds as the ferocity of the ocean’s terrors bites, slashes and tears into cloth, armor and flesh alike. The air sings with the cries of death and is laden with the salty copper taste of blood and seawater. The warriors of Nevaehlen fight hard to defend their shores and in the end the waves of scaled monsters are fought back. The last of the sirens left furiously ensnared by a certain pink haired ‘ame and dealt with swiftly. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The beach stills once more. The tide ever-swirling, now bearing a deep, dark red hue. Three dozen sirens are visible circling in the churning waters nearshore with countless more undoubtedly awaiting in the depths. A deep, rumbling cry soon calls from the depths. Something big emerges, shying wisely away from the surface. It is visible to the battle-tested onlookers only by the spines protruding from its back and the subtle glow from its throat illuminating its lithe shape. This grotesque siren had skirmished with the elven warriors and lost. An eerie final call sounds from the water as all of the sirens still. It soon retreats along with its spawn to the deep waters, waiting to return.
  5. Falconets Origin: Invented after the Mali’ame warrior Oryl Sirame brought a rather simple idea to the master artificer and proven inventor Dorimnur Goldhand to downsize his earth-shaking Dwedmar siege cannons. With the combined skill of the Elf’s ingenuity and the Dwarf’s experience and means of production, these smaller weapons of war were made for quicker firing. Using the same technology of steel barrels and black powder charges of larger cannons, these smaller falconets are lighter and easier to maneuver, but are not without their own drawbacks. Description: A falconet is a light cannon that can be most directly recognized by its miniaturized, sleek profile and its iconic ‘crack’ often heard echoing across the battlefield in rapid succession alongside its counterparts. While initially invented for the sake of arming smaller ships, there is no denying their potential application in the field. Paling in comparison to the roar of its siege-based grandfather, this effective field weapon could still be used to devastating effect against infantry, small ships, or wooden structures. The falconet can be bolted in place or affixed to wheels just like a cannon, but would remain too large to be mounted on a simple swivel (like that of a deck gun). To fire quickly and effectively, this falconet still requires a crew of three. Falconets - at their lightest - weigh no less than 800lbs or 362 kg (barrel alone). This leaves them far too heavy to pick up or move by oneself. With a much smaller bore size than a full sized cannon, falconets - as a general rule - cannot fire any projectile weighing more than 10lbs, and require adequate powder charges to accomplish this. Varying in length from a minimum of 1 to a maximum of 3 meters long, these versatile light cannons can take many designs or shapes, but all remain under the same physical guidelines, regardless of variation. Capabilities The falconet is incapable of breaking through adequate stone walls and cannot effectively be used to breach sturdy gates - leaving this weapon rather inadequate for siege warfare. It can, however, be used to devastating effect against all manner of plate armor and shields, being able to send round shot clean through a full grown horse within its effective range. This leaves the falconet useful for raiding or defending in small skirmishes. It is light enough to be drawn by a pair of horses, though it must be detached from towing before it can be used to fire. Just as the cannon from which this invention was derived, there are many different ammunition types. Grapeshot: While useless against any structures not made from glass or straw, this collection of smaller metal balls would be incredibly devastating against any infantry units it is fired at. While its effective accurate range is shortened, it has a much wider area of effect and can dent or pierce through plate armor if anyone is unlucky enough to be caught within the short effective range of a falconet equipped with this useful ammo type. Bola: Given the falconet’s reduced size, ball-and-chain ammunition (traditionally used to sever masts or clear decks) cannot be used to the same effect. Bolas, however, can be used (alongside a halved measure of powder in exchange for halved effective range) to ensnare and immobilize a target. This can fire rope, silk or chain bolas to similar effectiveness. Explosive shot: Falconets can utilize boomsteel rounds just as full sized cannons, but the shot - and as a result, the explosive yield - are far less spectacular. This shot is made up of low-density boomsteel in the core of a round shot ball. This would decimate a 2x2x2 block area from the point of impact, but still cannot be used to break through stone walls. Craftsman’s Shot: Just like with full sized cannons, inventors, smiths and captains can just as easily find any combination of uses for projectiles suitable to be fired from their falconets. Any number of rare materials can be fitted to be fired from these falconets. This could range from potions that give their ammunition enhanced effects, to less-than-permanent paint rounds ideal for performing naval exercises. Mechanics and Restrictions Mounted: When in fixed position (on the deck of a ship or atop a defensive position) these falconets require a three man crew to be used and fired. Here the falconet can be fired with three emotes, with a fourth emote required after the second shot for maintenance. Requires a crew of 3 to operate Gun Captain Loader 1 Loader 2 Emote 1: Loader 1 quickly brings a prepared powder charge to the mouth of the falconet after inclining the barrel slightly, setting it firmly within the bore, before pushing it down with a rod and seating it firmly to the back of the chamber. Loader 1 leaves the rod, quickly retrieving and setting a short fuse. Emote 2: Loader 2 removes the rod from the barrel, bringing forth the desired ammunition to the tilted mouth of the falconet and feeds it down the barrel before ensuring a snug fit against the powder charge by using the rod. Loader 2 then removes the rod a second time. Emote 3: Gun Captain adjusts aim if necessary and brings a torch, match, or flint and striker to the short fuse. The quick burning fuse shoots down with hunger as it seeks the powder charge within, before the light falconet shakes with an ear-ringing crack! Smoke and fire shooting out of the barrel as the light, high speed projectile is launched towards the target. Emote 4 (After two successful firings): Loader 2 removes the fuse, blowing down into the chamber to clear it of any still-burning powder, before retrieving the worm and sending it down the barrel to remove refuse, ensuring a clean bore for the powder charge to come. Horse drawn: Falconets can be wheeled onto the field of battle by horse (or other creature of equal strength) but it is a cumbersome endeavor and requires a much larger crew initially. To bring a falconet from a stationary position into a battle position as part of a combat maneuver requires the use of two horses and two crew members in addition to the gun crew already required to man it. The horses must move at walking pace, and the ammunition must be carried in saddle bags. A total of five prepared shots are allowed per horse before a third mount is required. Additional emotes required: One to bring the horse to a stop and dismount. One to detach the falconet from the horses and to remove the ammunition bags from the horses. One to turn the falconet into a firing position (this cannot be done by the horses, it must be done manually after dismounting.) Redlines -By default falconets can fire up to 60 blocks with two exceptions: they can fire longer if the hosting ET member allows, and their range is cut to 30 blocks in the case of using bola rounds in a non-lethal capacity with half the normal charge of powder. -Always requires 3 emotes to use when fixed, with a 4th emote after 2 successful firings. -For the falconet to be wheeled into battle a crew of no less than 5 is required to set it up and prepare it to fire. Two horses are always required. -After the 2nd shot, if the 4th emote to clean is not carried out, the Gun Captain must roll 100 for misfire. Anything below 80 results in the falconet being too dirty to fire, and two emotes are required (one to unload it, one to clean it) before it can be loaded and fired again. -If a 4th shot is attempted without cleaning the bore, the Gun Captain must roll 100 for backfire. Anything below 80 results in the ammunition jamming and the breach exploding - fatally wounding the gun crew and rendering the falconet destroyed. -Like cannons, falconets can be represented MCly through stone, wool, wood, etc, but cannot rply be made of these materials. - Falconets can never be moved while firing. They must remain stationary, and can only rotate as part of the aiming emote. -When rotating to fire, a gun crew can only rotate a falconet 90 degrees per emote. -Falconets can never be pre-loaded. All loading emotes must take place during combat. (Unless otherwise allowed by ET) -Craftsman’s Shot follows the same guidelines as stated in the accepted inventions for Cannons - it must be ST signed, though does not require its own invention piece. -Falconets cannot be picked up or used by magic or large creatures. They cannot be mounted on any living thing. -If combat is already initiated and the falconets are arriving by horse, one emote is required to announce the arrival of the falconets in-transit before the halt emote to allow for the defending party to stop this. If one of the two required horses is shot, disabled, or otherwise killed, the other horse cannot continue by itself and the falconet is rendered immobile until the necessary emotes to detach the falconet are done. -Falconets can only be manned by a crew of 3. (Unless fewer is allowed by ET) OOC Purpose I wrote this with the intention of giving variation to the world of cannons while still limiting their use in a fair manner. My goal for introducing light cannons to LOTC would be to give reason to have smaller sailing ships armed with falconets so that smaller crews of players could have adventures and partake in events without needing to man massive cannons capable of crippling stone towers. Having a smaller number of players required to man these cannons allows for groups of all different sizes to have fun. This brings versatility to the event-planning stage that currently accepted cannons don’t offer. They’re not meant to be powerful weapons of war, but flavorful additions to the field of event roleplay.
  6. A certain Mali'ame warrior wipes Orcish blood from his blade, the dark stains of a hard-won victory now dancing across his battle kilt. The bronze plates adorning his body bore scores from the battle, though shined through in the light of the sun coming out from behind the clouds. The scent of death reached his nose, though none of his kin or their allies had lost their lives. He removed his helm, braids cascading down over his shoulders. The 'ame knelt, and tilted his head towards the sky. "Heya elsul’elemaln elehaelun’ehya ay’divtuvan oradilne." The warrior recites. The Lord of Death had given them strength.
  7. A warrior returns from a bloodless raid. Relief on his face. "I'm not sure I'd have the courage to stand if I knew I was wrong either." The 'ame shook his head as he approached the gates of Elvenesse. He paused for a moment, looking down, over the bridge, and into the water. A faint smile crossed his face as he continued into the city. No lives had been lost. This was a good day.
  8. The declaration of war would reach the bronze-clad hands of a wandering warrior, his keen, emerald eyes glancing over it as he solemnly shook his head. "It has been years since my blade has heard Orcish screams. May their blood run down my pommel once more."
  9. The scarred warrior lay on his dusty floor, surrounded by wood shavings and flecks of cigar ash. I need to clean this place up. He thought to himself with a grin, his lips parting ironically to accept the lit cigar in his left hand, drawing from it and sending the smoke up into the air. "Rest your weary shoulders, Mal'onn, the nation is grateful for all you have given it." He found himself talking to the shapes in the smoke, an expression of reflection came over him as it often did, accompanied by a perpetual look of half amusement as the 'ame spoke to his smoke.
  10. The note finds itself in the hands of the Maribar, and is filed away for later reference, but not before it is graced by a subtle dusting from the ash of Oryl's cigar.
  11. Soon after it had been read, the missive was crumpled up in Oryl's hands and tossed into the corner of his room. There it sat, quite unlike the carvings and sketches adorning his many shelves. The 'ame rose to his feet, wood shavings falling from his lap and across his dusty floor. He paced over towards the barrels full of weapons, and drew a short blade of elven design from its scabbard, rolling it over in his hands. "Never before has such a disgrace been brought down upon the name of that which I draw bow and blade to defend." Oryl crossed the room with his sword in hand, setting it neatly atop the table, and retrieved a raven's feather to rest upon it. Subtle smoke from a lit cigar idly burning where he had left it drifted over the feather and blade as one. "Sons of eagles may your weary souls be at peace, for your flesh and honor has been discarded by those we so freely pledge our loyalty to." With his jaw set and his heart heavy, he knelt before the weapon and the feather, the scent of rich, smoky amber filling his nose as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Great ones who guide my hand and heart, I lay my blade before you. I'm full of anger, disgust and spite. Grant me but a piece of the faith I held when first this weapon was forged. For my kin, my creed, my honor... grant me strength and peace of mind to stand for those who look to me for guidance, and calm my wayward spirit." It was here the warrior remained. Fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestled with what he felt inside. He was torn by feelings of betrayal and disgust, and with his first blade and the feather of his patron's kin before him, sought answers to the questions his heart and mind alike seemed to be begging.
  12. Oryl looked upon the notice with a curious grin, a silent nod of approval was all that followed.
  13. Somewhere, resting on a cliff above the sea, a scarred warrior finds the face of an old apprentice drifting out across the waves. The amber haze from the oracle wood cigar drifting about him. The 'ame gazed up at the shimmering starlight, the weight of this loss tugging on his spirit, and yet he smiled. "Oerneh nae ito hileia lae myumiera, ciwn'ehya uell." He uttered an all-too familiar phrase, his words nearly drowned out by the churning of the frothy seafoam beating relentlessly against the base of the cliff. "I have never been more proud to call someone my brother." The whisper of his final farewell accompanying the bittersweet memories that washed over him. His heart sat laden with sorrow, and yet, he was at peace.
  14. Oryl had never seen such a despicable set of creatures. "These chickens need to train more" he thought to himself as he passed by the now obscenely obese and equally clueless, corpulent, posse of positively pungent flightless fowl. Unfortunately, the warrior had only a few cigars on him and no chicken-sized swords, otherwise he would have found himself with twice his current weight in apprentices to train. Had he not been late to a training session, he may have attempted to tie the birds together and curl them.
  15. CRP Goon

    epicworld123

    Born in 1682 in the realm of Atlas, Oryl Essan grew up in a tightly-knit seed that he unfortunately has very little memory of. Raised by his father, Osur Essan, and mother Osen Essan, he learned about the ancient Woodland culture through tribal texts and manuscripts. At 10 years old Oryl began learning to craft beautiful works of art from the wood and quickly took up archery. As he aged he began to grow curious of what lay outside the land of his seed. Oryl learned the importance of the unity between elf and nature, and understood much about the land. His mother taught him history and his father taught him how to hunt. Oryl had no brothers or sisters but became best friends with Tamor Irus. They hunted together, talked about modern art and thought about what it could possibly be like to leave their home. Oryl grew stronger and more wise. As word spread of the discovery of Arcas in 1705, Oryl left his family in Atlas to hopefully return to one day. He bade farewell to his kin and vowed to remain true to his seed. Upon his arrival in Arcas, Oryl lived in the woods for quite some time on his own, searching for members of his family until one morning he decided to enter the Woodland Realm in search of friends, new life and a future.
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