Rayalia

An ear piercing shriek decorates the surrounding area, followed by the dull thud of a soggy penguin plushie - weighed down by child slobber - whacking a certain toddler upside the head.

"(The) Hummingbird teaches us to transcend time, to recognize that what has happened in the past and what might happen in the future is not nearly as important as what we are experiencing now. It teaches us to hover in the moment, to appreciate its sweetness."- Constance Barrett Sohodski From sprout… The small elfess had cradled that seed, held it close as she traveled between two worlds, never once letting it out of reach. Together, they explored new lands, seeking, searching for a place to call home. Half submerged in water, the seed began to sprout. … to sapling… The ‘Ame, after great deliberation, ended up on a cliff near Balian. The soil was fertile, the air clear, the sun strong. The road, though in view, held almost no traffic to it, and beyond lay the sea. It was peaceful there, calming. She planted the sprout, small and young and weak as it was, and spent endless days and nights watching and waiting and listening. It was fed compost, given water, plucked free of any overly hungry critters and bugs. Nights turned into weeks and weeks into months and months into a year. … to tree. It bore no fruit - not yet, for it was too young - but its trunk began to grow strong. Now reaching towards the elfess’ knees, it no longer needed daily aid. The oceanic winds had forced it to adapt, to become sturdy or to topple. It didn’t need her to help it anymore, not truly. Her protection? Perhaps. But not her assistance with flourishing. And so she sat beside it, as she always did, and watched the world dance around them.

What is the meaning of life?

If ST deny this, I'm rioting. Long awaited post, superb job to everyone who worked on this much needed update to the lore!!

A young Mali'ame pauses in her path along the streets of a whitened city, her remaining hand lofting to lightly thumb at one of the missives upon the wall. Hesitantly, she carefully plucks the paper from its perch and returns to her abode. In the next few hours, she copies the missive down, word for word, over and over and over... One gets left upon the desk she works at, in clear view of the door, the rest, sent out through the aviary, to a very specific and particular group of people.

🙌 Healthy rp healthy rp healthy rp healthy rp-

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CLASSY! THIS is proper plant lore! Loving the changes on the old stuff, I'll cry if ST don't accept this.

What’s your favorite folklore/fairytale and can you retell it as if you were a rabbit that is late late late? (Bonus points for getting the reference)

Based Critter post, definitely needs to be talked about. +1

As a player that is so often looking for places to do player events as well as one who plays mostly adventuring type characters, I absolutely love this map size. 4kx4k, in my opinion, would simply be too small. It would help generate rp between the different cliques and groups of rpers, but just as daily rp is important to the creation of story in LOTC, so too are personalized events, both large and small scale. I remember back in Arcas, when Siramenor was literally a 30 second walk from Sutica. It felt so displaced and squished and debilitating to the wood elf rp because there really wasn't space to do anything tribal aside from village rp. There was no forests, just a grouping of trees right past the walls that you could see through to another city. it was jarring and it made any rp outside of the walls difficult. At the same time, neither is a larger map going to do us any good. We already have a ton of space that is unused aside from random player events, as well as a bajillion abandoned landscars that no one cares about. Idk. I personally like this map size. I wouldn't want to see it shrink too much. On another note, if the map was very small, something that may fit into a much more interesting type of fantasy feeling is sectioning the world into valleys and plateaus: sat up high, an icy terrain, or perhaps a jungle of enormous trees and great large waterfalls, while just down below at the bottom of the cliff's drop is a desert of dead sands and oldened bones. A stark contrast with almost no distance horizontally, but a great distance vertically, would be very interesting to see. But again, I'm just spitballing without doing too much thinking. I'm sure there's builders and storytellers with much more experience that could give more cohesive thoughts and ideas. Regardless, the hype to see what staff comes up with for next map is real.

Yessss classyyyyyyyyyyy!!! Hyped hyped hyped

I've never really minded the long runs, though then again, quite often am I just wandering the map in search of mini secrets (the builds of LOTC are just as important as the RP imo, and it makes for great exploration). Personally, and only able to speak on Arcas and Almaris, the "king's road" is by far my more preferred. it just made CT feel more like a part of the world instead of an actual 'hub'. Honestly, I would love CT to have more of a purpose than just a spawn point. Perhaps make it a true neutral marketplace where we have our banks and auction houses but also the items that can't be crafted in game for sale, or maybe it's an island with said marketplace with a dock with a lot of ships that can take you across the map. The portals we currently have are just so strange compared to the rest of the world, even with the mirage of carriages or long walks. Not quite sure how it would actually work, but I hope that at least gets the idea of "part of the world rather than spawn point" across.

Carol = Best <3

@staff give us sugar cane nodes again, you cowards.

What is the point of this, especially with the new Aviary system, quite literally meant to combat metagaming? If it's to keep CRP from going on for too long, that's what resorting to PVP is for. Based. This, as others have stated, is kind of bogus. Again, resort to PVP if the group gets to big or it takes too long for combat to conclude, but if I get surrounded by five people on the road and ten minutes later, after one emote from each side, someone walks by, is able to escape, and runs for help, with this rule I'm still fucked even if five more people come to my rescue. Obviously, I probably would die anyways, but there would be no consequences of the villany rp. I suggest maybe capping how many people can come to the rescue, such as 2 defenders per 1 attacker, or- if unreasonable retrieval is happening- have a rule that states people entering combat must start a certain number of blocks away, such as 20 or 30. This would give even more purpose to the new movement rules as well as give the attackers time to decide to run or fight further without giving up aid for the defending party. See my response to number 8. People have different emote times on how they respond to CRP. 10 minutes is insanely unreasonable and a cap to people joining after the start of a fight is something to combat this. Ex: each side may add 2 people per 1 person on the other side. If it gets too large a group, PVP default unless all parties agree to keep it to CRP. Very Based. I'd recommend just detailing this a little bit more simply to clarify for combat medic rp.

This. I joined in Arcas and immediately found that freebuild was kind of just an abandoned cesspool of unfinished buildings and landscars. There was no benefit to the server overall because of it and I could clearly see that as someone with only a month of playtime. I believe a few others said this as well, but I'd like to reinforce the idea of making lairs and smaller settlements much easier to obtain and manage. This would filter out those that aren't ready for such an investment while allowing those that are their chance of starting something new. I also think (without really knowing the details, admittedly) that some form of tent system would be a wonderful addition not only to roadside traveler rp but also adventurer rp which seems to grow more prominent on the server the longer I'm around. A huge part about what one RPs is WHERE one RPs. The quality of builds is one thing that sets LOTC up for success.

✧ The Taelu’Avernan ✧ “This guild? It's not for us. It's for the people that can't learn what we can because they're not allowed the same experiences. Our writings? Our research? That's for them.” - Axilya, Founder of the Taelu’Avernan History: Founded in the struggles of living in a world meant solely for hearing people and heavily inspired by the familial values of the Vale of Nevaehlen, the culture of past Mali’Ame seeds, as well as the passion and pursuit of adventure, did such an idea come to fruition. To take the best of what has been priorly learnt, experienced, and observed and meld it into something new that would grow and develop its own traditions and values as its members do, in order to share knowledge and information about any and all subjects with the world. Created by the deaf elfess known as Axilya and after much turmoil in finding a place to properly settle within, the Taelu’Avernan now resides within the welcoming arms of the home of the Father Circle and ‘Ame culture. Values: At its core, the Taelu’Avernan are a gathering of peoples bound to or respectful of Aspectism that focus upon the adventure of experience, knowledge, and growth; firstly of the self, before following with family, community, and lastly, the world. The Taelu’Avernan are a close knit group, more akin to family than anything else. None shall be left behind or forgotten and everything they do, they do together. The safety and livelihood of each member is just as important as the next and it’s more than expected that guild members look out for each other both on and off the expedition-field. Beyond that, however, the Taelu’Avernan are a group of adventurers that wish to assist in bringing knowledge to those that are unable to learn about or experience a specific subject - no matter how grand and dangerous the task or how small and trivial the research may seem - due to a disability, position in life, way of living, and/or etcetera. The Taelu’Avernan aim to leave as little impact upon the unexplored, choosing instead to learn and leave rather than mindlessly kill and take whenever possible. There is never an action performed by the members of the guild that bears no reason. In addition, so long as it is possible to research, the Taelu’Avernan are willing to give it a shot. Though the guild prides itself upon its ‘Ame ways, one need not be a Mali’Ame to join. They must simply respect the culture, be within the good graces of the Vale of Nevaehlen, and hold a care for nature’s balance. Religion: The Taelu’Avernan, while walking in the footsteps of Aspectism, has no set religion its members are required to primarily follow. Members are free to practice their own religions within the guildhall and around guild members so long as it doesn’t directly contradict the belief values of the Wild Faith. That being said, there are some minor traditions directly implemented into the practice of the guild itself in order to retain respect for the balance and origins of the guild’s foundation. In addition, while no descendant is perfect, if one is found deliberately upsetting the balance, found to be a necromancer, mystic, dragonkin, voidal mage, or bear any other dark magicks, they will be harshly dealt with and kicked from the guild. Structure: In an attempt to keep every member safe upon expeditions, the Taelu’Avernan bears an inherent structure of command and titles: I: THE GUILD LEADER: The Av’Chirr translated roughly to ‘the Wandering Wolf’, is the current guild leader, and bears all autonomy over the guild. Should the Av’Chirr not be present, the trio of branch leaders (the Av’Tayna, the Av’Lareh, and the Av’Maehr) retain autonomy, followed by branch members themselves, and lastly but not least, unspecialized guild members. II: THE GUILD BRANCH LEADERS: The Av’Tayna translated roughly to ‘Wandering Life’, is the current medic leader, responsible for regularly training up the medical branch and ensuring all Av’oeman know, at the minimum, first aid. It is their responsibility to oversee the members of the Medical Branch and ensure all responsibilities are being upheld. The Av’Lareh translated roughly to ‘Wandering Mountain’, is the current warrior leader, responsible for training up the members of the warrior branch and ensuring all Av’oeman know, at the minimum, basic self defense and formations. It is their responsibility to oversee the members of the Warrior’s Branch and ensure all responsibilities are being upheld. The Av’Maehr translated roughly to ‘Wandering Wisdom’, is the current researcher lead, responsible for preparing and training members of the scholar’s branch and ensuring all Av’oeman know, at the minimum, how the Taelu’Avernan operate on a guild sanctioned expedition. The Av’Maehr is also largely responsible for the upkeep of the Taelu’Avernan’s records and tomes. It is their responsibility to oversee the members of the Scholar’s Branch and ensure all responsibilities are being upheld. III: THE GUILD BRANCHES: The Av’oeman Tali’Taeleh translated roughly to ‘Wandering Ones Part of Mind’, otherwise known as the Scholar’s Branch, are fully fledged members who have passed further trials to take on greater responsibilities and specialize in the gathering and spreading of knowledge. The Av’Oeman Tali’Diraar translated roughly to ‘Wandering Ones Part of Guard’, otherwise known as the Warrior’s Branch, are fully fledged members who have passed further trials to take on greater responsibilities and specialize in the leading and protection of guild members in combat. The Av’oem Tali’Walehan translated roughly to ‘Wandering Ones Part of Healing’, otherwise known as the Healer’s Branch, are fully fledged members who have passed further trials to take on greater responsibilities and specialize in the health of both mind and body for guild members both in and out of expeditions. IV: THE GUILD MEMBERS: The Av’oeman Maehr’sae translated roughly to ‘Wandering Ones Disseminating Knowledge’, are the current guild members who have fully passed their trials and are active within the guild. The Av’oeman Sirame’sae roughly translating to ‘Wandering Ones Developing Honor’, otherwise known as honoraries, are members of the guild who have passed their initiate’s trials but are unable to enter the field with the rest of the guild based on personal circumstance, be it age, physical disabilities, or even just a desire to not join their guild mates on expeditions. V: THE GUILD ASPIRANTS: The Taelu’Avernan Initiates are simply that: aspiring members that have yet to complete their trials! The Guild Hall: TBB (To Be Built!) Getting Into Contact: Those wishing to join the Taelu’Avernan may reach out and contact the Av’Chirr or any of the Branch Leaders. A list of our current members and leaders rests in the Taelu'Avernan Library! [Previous and Outdated Postings (Archived and OOC)]:

✧◉❂◉✧ The pink haired elfess had long since been feeling as though her own form was as foreign as the changing seas, that her mind was as barren and turbulent as a storm’s waves, but it wasn’t until that small gathering had formed within Pinemaw with unknown entities bearing flaming weapons did she realize how empty she felt. There was no reaction to the possible threat, no care nor investment into defending her home and her neighbors. It was only then that she became aware as to how cold she felt living among strangers and reduced to the mind numbing theatrics of the canonists. Near instantly, she realized that change wouldn’t come to her. She would need to go to it. It wasn't easy. Rarely had anything in her life ever been. She’d been born Deaf in a hearing world. No one understood. it was almost as though she’d been set up for eternal loneliness. She told none that she was leaving for there were none that she needed to tell. The only two that may truly have missed her likely wouldn’t realize she’d left until the time would come for her to return. Still, she left a note for one and resigned to thinking up some grand apology for the other. The Artisan Emporium was swiftly shut down, the gates slammed closed and the forge left unlit, gathering dust until her probable return. The house was left under the care of her two living dolls, for she knew they would keep the place up and running just fine during her absence. Then, knowing hearth and home would be cared for, did she set out. Left behind was the human-like title of ‘Lady Axilya’, abandoned was the job upon the council. Shoulders set, she moved forth, without any supplies other than two days worth of rations and the simple clothes on her back. No tools, no weapons, no companions. The elfess truly made to start from the very beginning to rekindle that lost connection, however weak, that she’d once had with her own sense of self. ✧◉❂◉✧ The freckle faced elfess, unable to truly return to where she’d been formed as a person, settled down in the forests of Elvenesse. A single cavern within a small glade, bloodied and riddled with long forgotten bones, became her new home. Once, long ago, she had found a grizzly to have taken home here, but by now, their children’s children would have long since passed. None would come looking for her here, not even Bolomormaa’s kids. A flitted thought of 'fitting' crossed her mind. On the first day, a thunderstorm left her sitting within that stench-filled cave, the scent of iron revitalized by the wash of rain. She drank from her only flask, emptying it, before leaving it to hang outside to gather the sky’s tears. She nibbled lightly on the dried meat she’d brought with her, barely touching it and instead leaving the rest for emergencies. The rest of the day was spent cleansing the walls of stone, for as much as her strength shouldn’t be wasted on such a first task, leaving her surroundings tainted would only bring back memories unwanted. And then the dark came. She didn’t like the dark. On the second day, her stomach groaned and rumbled, heard only by the surrounding woodlands. An hour was spent making a rough and wooden spear, forged only by the sharpest rock she could find upon the ground, before she turned towards the West. Following only her vague memory of the area towards the edges of the forest she found where the sea met the sands. The crude spear gave her struggles, offset only by the skills gathered from every-day fishing, allowing her a night’s worth of food. She returned to her cave then, a white-meated fish in hand, and spent the rest of the evening gathering wood and kindling, for as much as she hated the fire that had once melted her sights from her, the complete blackness that followed was worse. Piled up at the back of the cave she stored it all, dipping into her stock only when the dark started to take over. With a flick of her fingers, a click sounding in the air, and a Cerulean hue misting across her palm, a flame started, catching upon the sticks and logs gathered. Cheater. But the magic was a part of her and she’d come out here in an attempt to find herself. A meal was cooked and eaten, the rest of the night spent in total silence, flames entertaining her by casting dancing shadows upon the walls. The dark was chased away. By the fourth day, she had crafted a few baskets born of stiff fiber and wood, shoddy in work but sturdy enough to be used. She stored some berries in one, alabaster leaf and serpent’s stalk in another, and some fish she’d dried out the day prior in the last. She spent the night with a full stomach, the water flask left untouched due to the ripeness of the small, juicy orbs. On the fifth day, the berries came back with a vengeance and she spent the day plagued by hallucinations worse than those normally given to her by the spirits. She wished she hadn’t left Pinemaw. On the seventh day, the hallucinations finally left, returning to the normal tidbits that floated in and out of her vision. She was used to those. She could ignore those. What she couldn’t ignore was the dizziness that came from dehydration. The flask was emptied, the berries thrown out. She spent the rest of the night whittling a stone knife, clam shaped, with the rock she’d used to make the spear. By the end of the eighth day, the elfess had carved out a bowl from wood, her hands blistered in areas they once wouldn’t have been. On the ninth day, dizzy once more from dehydration, she set out to find a stream of fresh water, bowl in hand. When she returned, successful and ready to boil the water, her untended baskets had been raided and destroyed, muddied paw prints decorating the cave she called hers. Despite growing hungry that night, and an incident involving heated, exploding rocks, she wished none for water, the leftover liquid filling up her flask. On the fourteenth day, her arsenal of tools had expanded from a single clam shaped knife and wooden spear to an archaic set of bows and arrows, another three baskets now hung from mid level branches at the edge of the glade, and a few further bowls filled with cleansed water. On the fifteenth day, she let her hands heal and her feet rest. On the seventeenth day, she came face to face with a child of Morea. They parted ways without incident. On the eighteenth day, she found a small doe, hind leg torn half off and shredded into strips, hiding within a bramble of bushes. Despite the way it panicked at the first sight of her, exhaustion overtook it and the elfess found little resistance in her attempt at assisting the beast. She carried the doe back towards her cave, setting it down near the dwindling fire to keep it warm, and attempted to nurse it with her own supply of water. The doe responded well enough for a time and didn’t put up much of a fuss when the descendant made to take a look at its wounds, laying still when the elfess cleansed them and wrapped them with strips of her own clothing. She named the doe Riddlewart. On the nineteenth day, she tried to find some food for Riddlewart, avoiding the prior berries like the plague. In the end, the elfess tried to simply feed the doe some grass and twigs and leaves. The animal seemed to like it well enough. She spent the rest of the time stoking the fire and telling tales to the creature, reminiscing on memories long passed and people long since disappeared. She told the other how she’d learnt the meaning of family from her Maln, how she’d learnt the meaning of love from her partner, how she’d experienced heartache and motherhood and how everyone she ever knew had left or would leave. She spoke of those times she’d been kidnapped, her fears born of the torture given both by strangers and people she’d once thought loved her. She spoke of the dark and of the light and asked questions that she herself answered when the doe remained silent. She felt at peace for the first time in a long time. On the twentieth day, the elfess coaxed Riddlewart out into the sunlight, and there the doe blinked up and towards the sky, alert and calm despite its wounds. She brought the beast down towards the waters, carrying it with gentle hands, and set it within the smoothest part of the river where they both submerged. Soothingly, the elfess assisted the doe with attempting to move the injured leg, slow and eased to simply keep the limb working. The Mali kept the creature afloat, setting its head on her shoulder for extra support, and there they stayed for the better part of the day, relaxing and allowing the water to ebb away aches and pains. When they returned to the cave that night, they had both been exhausted. The elfess fell asleep soon after drying the doe off and ensuring it had taken up residence in the comfiest part of the cavern. On the twenty-first morning, she awoke to find Riddlewart still and unresponsive. The elfess weeped. Hours later, when her tears had dried and the first of flies began to find the carcass, she brought the doe’s form into the forest and buried it beneath a large pine tree as if guided by Cerridwen’s hands herself, where its body would feed the dirt and the dirt would feed the grass and the grass would feed more deer and the deer would feed the wolves. This was what her Maln had tried to teach her of. This was what the balance brought. Life and death and more life. The elfess had been privy to the process and, despite her interference, it had gone on as it had meant to. The natural form of life. This was what was meant to be preserved and respected. On the forty-fifth day, the rains started to drain from the sky. . . ✧◉❂◉✧ It took three days for the rains to finally stop, and by then, her cave within the small glade was half drowned, flooded with ankle deep water. When she stepped outside, without the risk of being pelted by bullet-like drops, privy was she to the sight of her painstakingly weaved baskets shredded to bits, torn down from their heights upon the trees. It seemed animals weren’t her only concern within these woods. Sloshing back into her cave, the elfess retrieved what little had survived before setting out to start from near the beginning once more. Tucked within her half ruined belt sat her homemade knife and beside it her five arrows bearing stone heads. Strung over her shoulder rested her weak attempt at a bow and in her hands she carried that bowl for water. As she stepped outwards that cave, she gathered up the only pieces of smoked and soggied strips of fish meat she could find floating about the area. Set over a fire near a week ago, they’d last her in an emergency, though if all went to plan, she would be able to feed them to the soil or some small predator after finding a more suitable substance for sustenance. Onwards she went, searching firstly for the river she’d so often gathered from, and from there, the elfess would be able to follow the water upstream to higher ground and wait for the floods to subside. A far fetched idea, but she had no other plan. She needed new food and water, and she would not find that in her ruined cave. It didn’t take long before her feet were near black from muck, as if she’d been wearing ankle high socks, and the closer she trekked towards running water, the harder it got to walk. Against instinct and all better judgment, the elfess continued forth, struggling her way through glop, brambles, and felled branches, until motion came forth into her vision. With a heaving breath, swiping at her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, she paused, taking note of how high the river had risen. No more were the carved out edges of a well worn waterway. Instead, cascading through the woodlands, was a rush of browned liquid, carrying fallen trees and great amounts of debris as it surged past. The Mali’s ear flicked lightly, a habit she’d attained over the past decades, as she peered on with a pinched expression. Lips thinned, she pressed forth, turned upwards to continue her path across the woodlands. The smell of the ground beneath was activated with each ascended step, hiding the sharp rock and broken boughs that stabbed at the soles of her feet. She didn’t seem to care much, for if there was no blood, then there was no need to. Onwards she went, each footfall as laborious as the last, the sucking sound of entrapping mud glopping around the air left in the wake of every footprint canceled out by the rush of waters it emitted next to. Her gaze shifted up, just a brief moment of respite within that arduous climb to peer upon a much calmer scene. There above was the sight of cleared skies, so somberly missed the past handful of days, speckled with the strongest of greenery that hadn’t faltered during the raging storm. Down was cast arbitrary shadows of which the sunlight peeked through, the forest ground illuminated with- -laid upon the ground, hacking up that dirtied river water. With a wheezed gasp, the elfess remained flopped into the mud at the edge of the waterway, eyes unfocused and brow creased in confusion. A sharp sting drew her attention and her throbbing head lofted, as did her hand, to grasp at the side of her ribs before a sharp wince drew forth from her features. Seeping through the muck that now covered her entire figure was a rivlet of crimson, the rest feeling bruised and battered. Shit. She must have lost her footing and fallen in, or perhaps the ground had given out. The elfess squeezed her eyes shut and let out a hiss through her teeth before she shifted into a seated position, careful, slow, and cautious as the pain in her side increased. Her free hand lofted, making to cradle her brow as her vision swam, and when her eyes opened once more, the slightest of movement caught her attention. A flash of fur darted out of sight from across the river. A rabbit, perhaps, for it had certainly been small enough. But then it was gone, just as quick as it had arrived. Her sights drifted thereafter, the image produced slightly blurred, and took note of the unfamiliar territory and her current situation. Downstream. She was downstream, without her tools, and bore an undetermined severity of wounds. The elfess shifted to her feet and the movements forced her pained expression to crumple further upon her countenance. Heavily, she leant up against the nearest tree, the touch of it’s rough bark doing nothing to soothe her surface level aches. She bent over, seeking to catch her breath as she pressed her palm into her side, and it took her a long moment before her chest rose and fell with some sort of rhythm. She watched, dazed, as brown water fell from dulled strands of hair hung beside her face. Long since had the Alabaster and beetroot dye faded, leaving her natural gingered brown to break through. Idly, she noted that both a dye job and a haircut were long overdue. Her head lifted once more, though the weak gaze sharpened as her form froze, chest stilling with baited breath. There before her stood Morea’s child, stood the wolf that she had crossed paths with when she’d begun the whole experience. Her gaze met the creature’s own and piercing dark eyes seemed to shoot straight into her soul. Immediately, she casted her sights downwards, for she was in no shape to risk challenging the beast. The Mali knew, then, that she must have landed somewhere within its territory, and should it wish it, she would become its evening snack. Her head dipped, submissive, in an attempt to show it that she was no threat, and watched from the corners of her eyes as the wolf stepped closer, head poised high. Graceful and elegant was the canine, near feline-like with its steps and ashen form rippled with power. Confident if an animal ever was so, it stopped just before her, and for a brief moment, the elfess feared the wolf would go straight for her neck. Its gentle breathing brushed against her cheek, and holy shit, she forgot how large wolves were. That darkened snout dipped and paused at the scent beneath her hand, as if the waft of blood had called to it. After a moment of inspection, however, the beast turned and gently nipped at the cloth on her hip. The Mali casted her gaze downwards and when she saw what the beast was nudging at, a simple understanding crossed her features. Slowly, at the risk of her own hand, she slipped her fingers into the pocket that brushed against the canine’s nose and grappled out the smoked fish she’d absentmindedly grabbed back at the cave. The wolf stepped back as her hand had withdrawn, though its form was lined only with an expectancy as it watched her movements. Painfully, the elfess crouched down upon the mucked forest floor and set the meat before her, stilling thereafter once more. The large creature eyed the offering, though interested, returned to its spot nearest the elfess. Its snout lowered, brushing against the food on the ground, and its nose roamed the surface of the meat in exploration. Carefully, as if dealing with a pup, the wolf opened its maw and took the piece of meat into its mouth before it simply… turned and shifted to trot off, away from the river. It stopped then, meters away, before it swiveled back towards the elfess, staring her down. She briefly met its gaze once more, moss-colored orbs settling on amber, before it returned towards its path and disappeared into the woods. The elfess slumped once the canine was out of sight, a heavy breath escaping her form as a look of disbelief crossed her features. Her head thumped back against the tree she leaned against, eyes finally allowed to close for just the sparsest of moments as the encounter replayed in her head. She’d faced many a creature before, but never had she been without a way to defend herself against them, never had she been so… vulnerable to a child of the Mani. It was unsettling. And it was also thrilling. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the emotions raging through her, so instead, the elfess settled on the relief that cast itself upon her shoulders. Once more she straightened, and though the wound in her side pulled with a horrid throb, she seemed reinvigorated. One foot placed itself in front of the other and, with a new drive, the elfess set out to return to her task at hand, adding the need for medical supplies to the list of necessities. On the Forty-ninth day, the elfess reached the start of the river - a pond deep enough to submerge in - and settled down at the highest point nearest it, under the largest pine. ✧◉❂◉✧ On the fiftieth day, the elfess had started to renew her stock of clean water by placing heated rocks into the gathered rainwater that had sat in the hollow of a felled tree’s separated trunk. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. She tried to clean her wound first and drank second. That night, she came down with a fever. On the fifty-fifth morning, her fever broke and any infection that had set into her wound was staved off by her own immune system and habitual cleanings. She spent the day curled in on herself nonetheless, for her stomach had long since grown hungry. On the fifty-sixth day, her hallucinations born of eyes gifted by the spirits raged at her prone form. She found the strength to begin resource stocking due to the sheer need to distract herself from the ghosts of her past. It was slow going. On the seventy-third day, the elfess had finished crafting a proper shelter and her stock of supplies had grown immensely. On the eightieth day, during a hunt for small game, the elfess stumbled across a den. Out came Morea’s child and, with a respective distance, the Mali observed it. It didn’t attack her, so she assumed it didn’t mind. Throughout the little time she risked being there, three other pack members had shown and interacted with the beast. When the elfess felt close to overstaying her welcome, she left the game she’d collected for the pack to feast upon out of a sense of gratefulness. On the eighty-third night, she went for a midnight swim. Within that pond she floated upon her back and stared up at the stars above. The figure of some sort of raptor not yet nesting glided above, its moon-backed silhouette casting a shadow upon the forest below. The elfess cried beneath the darkened skies. On the ninetieth day, the elfess entertained herself by drawing upon stones with globs of mud from the banks of the pond. Figures danced over their surfaces, telling stories of her loved ones long since passed and those few that remained in the present. When she’d finished, she decided that she should make a career of finger-painting. On the one hundredth day, a butterfly landed on her nose. She went cross-eyed trying to watch it. They spent a half hour together and in that time, the Mali moved not a single muscle. She became the embodiment of a flower for the little insect’s calm rest. On the one hundred twelfth morning, the elfess deconstructed her shelter before making the trek back down towards her original cave. The move was long overdue. That night, she was unaware of the large elk that had walked past the cave’s entrance. She’d been sleeping. ✧◉❂◉✧ On the one hundred fifteenth morning, the elfess got up to stand at the cave’s entrance and breathed in the glade’s fresh air. There, she found herself to be at peace; not with her past, nor many aspects of her present, but with what she’d learned, lived, and accomplished out in the forests on her own. She had left to reignite that connection with the balance, and though she knew not if she had accomplished it, she felt comfortable enough to continue her pursuit of it. That day, for the first time in many years, her shoulders bore no tense lining to the way they held themselves, her back entertained no slouch, and her expression contained no subtle lines of stress or unease. Out she stepped into the early streams of light, basking in the way they warmed her countenance. Beneath her feet, settled between her toes, was the tickle of grass just kissed by morning dew. Scattered over the area was a flourish of flowers, a rainbow of color once taken by heavy rainfall now returned. Trailing at the edges of tree line grazed two brown rabbits and above them a red squirrel skittered. Her gaze turned upwards and she watched a sparrow glide carelessly through the air before disappearing into the foliage. Life was in abundance here, so chaotic and yet just as powerfully calm. The Mali moved forth, going about her morning routine of washing up, drinking, and eating. When she’d finished, she shifted to return the basket filled with the next few days’ worth of food to its place in the trees, though a mass out of the corner of her eye stopped her movements before she'd made it halfway to her destination. Slowly, she turned to peer over at whatever being had found itself at the edges of the glade before her ear flicked in clear surprise. Morea’s child stared her down, amber gaze flashing within the shadows cast by the bushels of leaves above, and the elfess, stood within the center of the sunlit clearing, stared back. After a moment, her head dipped lightly out of both respect and acknowledgment, and when she looked back up, the creature was gone. The elfess subtly smiled, the corners of her lips tugging upwards at the prompting of a gentle twitch. It was time to go home. ✧◉❂◉✧

Couldn't have said it better myself. It's a shame that people are more focused on 'winning' and can't keep IRP from OOC instead of centralizing their efforts on telling a plot or story. If you're just here to cause meaningless conflict IRPLY, go join a factions server. If you're here to cause conflict OOCLY, don't. Period. Just 'cause a screen is protecting you doesn't mean your actions don't have consequences. Have a lovely day, lads. <3 Stay safe, take a break, have an apple and nutella. it soothes the soul.

After a brief bout of confusion with the steward delivering missives and a choppy translation of 'the dead need their rest', a certain Deaf elfess receives the parchment left in a Jackelope's wake, the last she'd ever read from him. All those days and months and years of 'bread duck cake' now gone, the jesting and teasing turned to memories, the mirth-filled confusion and shared amusement and deep conversations transformed to dust. The pink haired lass' brow furrows, a scowl set upon her countenance at the sole idea of William having passed. How dare he. They always leave. They always leave. The curse of being an elf in a human's world strikes once more. The 'Ame stands. She shifts. She moves forth with an uncontrolled mind and impulsive actions to the unlit forge, forcefully tossing the parchment within. Hate and fury take over her form as she stares down at the lifeless paper sat upon prepared coals. A fierce and wretched glare directs its way to the item, as if her look alone would force the piece to catch fire and burn away any pain that follows it. Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens. And later, when she's to place the message away with countless others in a small box shoved out of sight, the elfess would be grateful the forge hadn't been worked with on that day. The parchment sits, still atop that unlit fuel. The elfess' glower remains. The air is still around her. The ever present silence within her ears is now like a blasting horn, loud and impossible but there. A wordless scream rips itself from the back of her throat as emotion bubbles past the point of containment but there's no one around to hear it, least of all her. She tries again, a punch of frustration aimed at the stone lining of the forge. She screams once more, another hit accompanying it. Again. And again. Let the Gods hear her anger and fury and pain, for she herself could not. Someone had to. She needed them to. Again. Again. Again, until her fists are wet with crimson and she can feel her vocal chords break, the vibrations within her throat ceasing. Her pants of exertion slow and her form wilts, slowly but surely, deflating as her mind grows silent, accompanying her ears in forcing the world quiet. The elfess' gaze turns wet, her eyes misting over against all will, churning within her sharp glare and forcing it into a wobbly, blurry mess. Her lower lip trembles. A rivulet of salty water drips first upon her left cheek, then her right, catching upon those multiple marred blemishes upon her skin. Slowly, she reaches out, retrieving the missive from where it had been so hatefully tossed away, her expression weakening and fury dissipating into hurt and sorrow and pain. Trepidation lines her form. Axilya unfolds the letter. Sat alone in an empty and cold forge, the gates at the entrances to the building left down for privacy, the 'Ame places a hand over her face and weeps.

A lone elfess stumbles her way back home, hands and face burnt with the mists of pure ichor the creature had spewed, wrought by the last image of her fellow 'Ame consumed and used for the growth of ilk. Entering a barren home with stone walls frigid to the touch, the pink-haired lass sits among her many companions, all as broken in some way as she. One among them, a living doll appearing bird-like in nature, makes its cautious way forth with worry clear upon its plushy form. It reaches up, bearing a few petals of blissfoil for her wounds, and attempts to clumsily place them upon her skin. The touch causes her to glance down at the little thing, wincing, before giving the creation a weak smile that quirks her lips only as much as they can muster. "... At least we know, now..." she murmurs to the plush, allowing it to take care of her as best it can, though she'd have to redo most of its work later, out of sight. The creation looks up, eyes large behind its glasses, magnifying that which it sees from. The 'Ame peers down at her doll, giving it a reassuring but exhausted smile, aware of her random mumblings. "Its blight won't continue, I promise. The Vale will figure it out, and when it comes time to fight once more, we'll be prepared and I'll be right by their side again. No one else is gonna get eaten. Nature will be righted." She releases a small, weary sigh and leans back, resting now and taking the time to just... be. "... it's just a matter of time..."

Said pink haired 'ame, at the moment unable to see nor hear, simply lets out a sudden sneeze from where she lays upon the cold stone table in a dreary basement.

I'll keep this short since I've seen pretty much everything I agree with in the comments, both the goods and bads, (ooc stuff, meme rp, unique culture, raids without decent build up of rp, PvP goons galore, beautiful skins, etc) and would just like to say that the fact that you've even made this post and are considering other playerbases opinions is a massive relief, and gives me hope that one day, I can unshelve my orc characters and partake in some actually lovely rp. Thank you Pancake, and I wish you luck on improving the orc community, not only to make them more enjoyable to rp with for other members of LOTC, but to also be an orc who is centered on creating a story rather than pummeling other people into the ground. Cheers, mate.

Axilya lets out a disgusted scoff. "Oh great. They're letting a cannibal roam the city with freedom now. Hope no one eats the soup he makes..." She mumbles to herself in irritation and fury.