femurlord

Battlements of blackstone and a foreboding gatehouse of copper teeth birthed legions of impish creatures into the sky. Blotting out the heavens with their many beating wings as they droned over the realm of Braevos. Hails of scripture rained out over both lands sanctioned and sacrilegious to deliver a message scripted in blood. Reality revolves in a constant cycle, where you have found glory may be your downfall, let it be known Sigrun Ireheart has been a testament of its ceaseless spin. Upon waxen wings, he rose to glory by beheading my dragonly form in Balian. Taking Malchedial’s blessing, this wretch took many heads of the dark with his gifts, achieved much. But, let this regaling haunt you, "the Undeadslayer" grew too close to my sickly fires and fell to earth. Now the "Fallen of Urguan", from now till eternity, as he dangled the heads of my kin across his belt, he'll hang on mine. The wheel spins and I bring war onto my enemies. Know my name, Gashadokuro.

In the dark, damp corners of Hexicanum water drip-dropped into lightless regions, a grunt scuttled out from filed ranks of monsters. Producing their notes, the sweating man scratched with ink and quil until cracks resounded from above. With an unnerved slowness, their frantic eyes shifted upward from their tome to face the shining gaze of Gashadokuro! In a howl of rancorous voices, the Archlich spat, "YOU LEAKY BUCKET, YOU!" [!] Depiction of a found spy!

A finger of pearl scraped the sky in the Southwest in the wake of a rubbled headstone, splitting dark clouds that hung over the horizon to welcome the radiant light of the Sun, bringing vibrancy to the muddy wastelands. In bliss life co-existed with the effigy of Spiritualism, a lapse of this purity was followed by the cries of the woken dead. "That was my favorite shrine!" With it, the mud beneath moved and seethed out geysers of sulfurous fumes to impart a fierce warning. "I WILL RUBBLE YOUR CAPITAL!" In time, the site of victory was scorched by roaring soul-fire, polluting the weeping willows and radiant column; tainting them black. Now, that effigy stood in sacrilegious defiance, a spire agleam with malicious energies.

You should take back my warning point because I didn't breach ANY of these rules! @Mirtok

During the half a month spent PK'd on my Archlich, my coffin had come into contact with a Seer who intended to never see the character rebirthed, placing Caecic on the item. Their intent to limit the Seer community, most importantly, members of a Seer clique aligned to me through consistent roleplay and encounters any form of rebuttal or response without the threat of disconnection being hung over their head. I personally believe for this reason, the Seer amendment is warranted and a welcome change as these mechanics has led to at some points OOC abuse of these rules in the magic lore to gain advantage over their peers to avoid the consequences of their actions rather than inspiring comradery amongst themselves. +1

The general consensus is if you don't call for PVP, you will not incur a respawn timer or mechanic if you die; this post was unneeded, but appreciated

Longevity and lifespan doesn't work, you're forced to age, but Corcitura is still compatible. Age and appearance is a feature of necromancy, you're limited to your base Descendant life-span. You would have to die, if you didn't drop it, but I will give the option to those who have strong feelings about this post.

The position that declining romance from an otherwise rapidly aging person, that takes on the twisted urge to devour their fellow man, growing into a shell of their former selves due to the sacrifice they've given in-order to master the art stolen from Iblees is bizzarre. Depth is not found solely in romance. By no way does it limit the development of a character or the ambitions, ideas and greater narrative they are able to pursue. Rather this amendment is made for people to abide by, but rather the certain facet I limit has no place in what the magic is itself, which at its epitome, Archlichdom, entirely rids the character of their emotions and moral compass to foster their own take upon the world, uncaring to those that live within it. For a magic whose end-goal is the death of that character and being re-birthed into something otherworldly, the time spent on romance is baffling, when actual compelling storylines can be made without it, and have. These claims I have read that removing their ability to share companionship with another ruins their character, despite having sacrificed their soul to an otherworldly source of energy and have permanently blackened it in-order to tame life and death is just out of this world. I believe I have tackled a much more greater issue than players are willing to admit, but I suggest that people turn to reading this to understand the host of things that a necromancer becomes and read lore compared to squirting out half-baked thoughts to defend the wool-block kissy-kissy menace: With what actual commentary that is useful I've seen here, I am considering re-working a few aspects and to that, I am thankful your your input. @Jentos@TheCaptain@Samler@ClassyDryad

I've been waiting for you at the necromancy self-teach altar, Narthok, where are you?

This is acceptable, I'd have to think-tank the limitation, because they also affect undead. Necromancers are infertile, incapable of having children as they rot in their own skin, so no minecraft sex on this children's server, sorry.

My reasoning had been Tawkin applications require Lifeforce in-order to fuel them in their lorepage, which Necromancers constantly lose due to the wound inflicted on their soul, I wanted to give more credence to relying on Necromantic solutions like the Draught of Incite which isn't lore conflicting

Does romance really bring forward character development? There are many facets of character development that do not require the reliance of engaging something that is objectively venomous and a much more overarching issue on the server. Romance in and of itself should not be hinged upon to develop a character and rather should be avoided considering the possibility of OOC feelings becoming involved and a greater problem developing. For one, I've developed my Archlich through vast achievements, there is merit and depth in the pursuits of a character rather than who they share Minecraft wool blocks with late at night. The magic itself is a menagerie of things that does not promote such warm-touchy things, there is a way to be tasteful and one such player @Hephaestusis a testament to this. My stance is, if you want to do romantic, kissy-kissy roleplay, don't get ordained as a Necromancer.

The Craft of Heith-Hedran: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/186830-magic-lore-the-craft-of-heith-hedran/ General Criteria: Current Lore: New Lore: General Redlines: Current: New Reasoning: Changelog:

I feel the spell should be just a full charge instead of using it to give an attack more strength when vigorous blow already exists. Should also incur a stun to be cancelled or unable to as to allow for counterplay

[T3] Dholl - [Combative] A seething wreath of malflame which congeals about the Naztherak’s branded forearms, before gushing out in a wave that extends [3] meters in width and height before shooting [2] meters in front of the Warlock [1] emote after [2] emotes of opening a grimoire. This wicked spell serves to push oncoming attackers back [3] blocks, incurring [1] emote of stun and can additionally be used to offset physical projectiles up to the force of an arbalest. Per use of this spell costs [10] maleus. Redlines The force of Dholl is comparable to an Uruk's shove Dholl is [3x3] wall which will move [2] meters forward Those affected by Dholl are pushed [3] meters back and endure [1] emote of stun, where they're incapable of attacking or otherwise moving. Dholl's effects can be negated through magical or defensive wards, for example, Templarism's Bulwark. The combustive wreath of malflame can be used to offset physical projectiles up to the force of arbalest bolt, unable to fend off against any non-physical spells. [T4] Thiirth - [Combative] A cantrip spell that sees a Naztherak to lay flaming, sacrilegious pentacles over a landscape that when stepped on roar out with a terrible, fiery mouth to latch onto the unsuspecting [2] emotes after [2] emotes of opening their grimoire. In a [12] meter range which requires line of sight, the Naztherak can summon a pentacle of malflame in a 1x1 space. When stepped on a great, fuming maw lurches to restrict a victim. The fiery jaws of this trap can be escaped with [1] emote of struggling free. Per use of this spell costs a total of [20] maleus. Redlines Thiirth cantrips endure [6] emotes after being summoned. The force of the trap's jaw is equivalent to a bear trap, able to rend flesh and break bone unprotected by armor or thick leather Summoning Thiirth requires line of sight. Thiirth can be summoned with [12] meter range. Thiirth cannot be moved after summoning has begun. Thiirth requires the placement of a sign and clear indication in an emote of where it was placed. Thiirth must be placed on solid ground, unable to attach to ceilings or walls.

"Who are you?" Rang out from the deep of Lurin's city-state in a deep, raucous voice; answering the pleas of His unwitting vassals.

Droves of undead swept across the realm, carrying the acrid fumes of death and a pallor to rival it. Their long-cold fingers let loose heaps of bundled missives, which clung to paved stonework or muddy piles throughout the realm for all to witness. Their yellow, crinkled surfaces bore a sinister ink, one deep crimson and carrying the scent of iron. Hear me, Braevos. I write to you now to announce again my intentions. My world tour has seen many victories, both pyrrhic and flawless. Within the Village hidden beneath the Cherry Blossoms, my forces met the seasoned Samurai and their allies. While many fell, you will know that the evisceration of my forces meant little and my goal was grander than menial slaughter. With a torrent of hellfire, I whisked the Warlord of the Oyashiman from his feet while he attempted to charge and lay me low. Stricken by my flames as the An-Gho had been, too is the champion of the Sakuregakura, Kato Oijin, webbed into my sin. He has knelt before my throne and dangles in my cages. Today is a day of celebration throughout graveyards and crypts, it is a victory for Lurin, my dastardly vassal, this day. If you want him, find me behind those magical walls.. Know my name, Gashadokuro.

MC Name: femurlord Discord: thebestdavid Image: Description of Image: Necrotic propaganda to taunt the opposition Dimensions: 2x1

Gashadokuro lamented upon a throne of derelict stone, casting devilish shadows with infernal fire about his claws. Then, a straw fitted between his golden teeth; a lifeforce colada rung in a five finger death hold. "It would seem these do-gooding samurai have caught me!"

Over the skyline, bat-like creatures soared out from the caniferous canopies and shadowy caverns, overcoming the sky of Hokhmat. There, this living 'smog' begun to twirl and twist to form a reply, following a shrill shriek of a voice which struck like lightning. "YO YO YO, MY BONES ARE RED AND SHINING, YOUR BRAIN IS DEAD AND ROTTING! A PIECE TO MY SCHEME, BONE MEAL DOWN THE STREAM. GASHADOKURO OUT!" As quickly as these apparitions came, they fled back from whence they came, crying out before silent again.

Gashadokuro studied his gnarled talons, a meager chuckle escaping him; having ordered the exact desecration.

thumsbup! Merrily did an ensemble of click-clacking undead, whose decayed flesh flapped with the wind in their pursuit to litter scripts down avenues and boulevards. Across each crinkled, yellowed surface ran a script seasoned with the scent of iron and hued a deep crimson. A lingering eye found it discomforting, yet discerned the words of loss, although those vowels and syllables oddly danced in mindless celebration; Hear me, Braevos. Know that my gnarled hand, while having slipped from the An-Gho, has stained him in permanent disappointment. The Nephilim have regained him, but they’ve unraveled a great secret, one that would sink your hearts and unravel your faith in the steadfast Lambs of Xan that swear to protect your realm from My kind with unwavering zeal. Upon the frays of Lurin, a coalition of joined forces, Nephilim and Xannites, endeavored to save their beloved Prophet, the An-Gho whose wings are tarnished and his neck clipped by my shackles. In their stagnancy and tea-sipping, the Prophet confessed his forces have coveted and relied on their newly found allies and how their Father instructed them to coerce unity with man and the triumvirates’ ordained; an intoxicating request for those abandoned by their black-winged ‘God’. While my tongue is forked, I heed you consider your allies well in battling me, for this war is many-sided. Even if I am felled, your glittering saviors will align themselves to the Dragon-King rather than your wellbeing when it matters most. In summary, know the Paladins sided themselves with Nephilim to save the The -An-Gho, quite strange and out of character, don’t you think? Seems Paladins of Xan are nothing more than the Puppets of Azdromoth. Know my name, Gashadokuro.