Periphonics

Fal'leon exhales as he read what's dedicated to him, a grimace forming upon his features. "Shame... I'd 'ave expec'ed tae see ye try tae be a be''er guide." He mutters to the nothing, perhaps to the paper, perhaps to the Doe's spirit. Memories flicker by, the decades of their friendship, their kinship. His early days in Vikela, his youth and place among their Ministry seats, alongside the Vanari's, alongside Floria. The wars they'd waged as soldiers together, the laws passed, fights, debates, coronations, tavern nights in the sprawling city. He recalls watching her grow and age. He recalls learning of her choice to take up the druidic path, when he was still young and freshly attuned, long before the days of his now earned respect. Fal'leon remembers hearing her wish to uptake the trials of his seed, proud to have kin, even if simply by adoptive means, seek to pursue his path. His desires to see the woman grow into a true druid. He had known her for a lifetime, humans had been born and died between their meeting and parting, an entire generation joined and left the world, and now she among them. Feeling the ache of nature draws more emotion than he wished, despite the deep frown on his lips, tears spill, and the ferns within the lush cave in which he meditates weep for their loss. Melancholy, perhaps. They parted ways on poor terms, his rage in having his guidance misused. He wonders now, was he justified? An overreaction? Surely not, if so many others had felt the same anger as he. And yet, in her parting, all she wrote, all she recalled, was this instance. Not of any other, not of his guidance, any bond they had shared, not his decisiveness in maintaining relations and aid when she struggled. Bitterness? Sadness? Wrath? The Corvid's emotions swirl and churn, unable to decide which wanted to be the one most prominent. Perhaps none of them were, perhaps none were as he felt?. Disappointment. For all the Doe could have been, for all she failed to be, for all she chose not to be on this day. His teeth grit, and the paper is cast aside. "Ye were nae mean' tae be a druid, malii'larion, I think. Ye were a figh'er, one who cared fer na'ure, bu' tha pressure, tha r'quiremen's o' this path were ne're mean' tae be... Alas, leas' i' means I can still visi' ye." A perhaps evil, mischievous grin passes Fal'leons expression now, "I do 'ope ye didnae think ye'd ne'er see me again..." And with such, his list of druids to seek in the Eternal forest grows, and the Corvid utters out a prayer, in hopes that his fall niece's soul may rest easy among the Fae. His family tree shrinks once more.

This conversation just honestly isnt worth continuing as we certainly won't come to an agreement and my initial comment wasn't directed to players to begin with. Have a good one, man, happy rping

saying its "incredibly obvious" doesn't matter, im talking about rule making here, not your personal feelings. rules need to be decisive and explicit, otherwise you are INVITING people to 'break them' (can't break a rule that isn't specified) when there's room to argue "okay well you never said ___ wasn't allowed". non specific rules is exactly where you get issues, it's far more important and effective to cover all bases, for ALL parties. I'm not asking the questions for you to answer, I'm asking them for the sake of having those specifications made to begin with, to avoid discrepancies Your hostility towards me is unwarranted and unappreciated. The inquiry was for admins/moderation to begin with.

My issue isn't confusion but more a necessity for specification. Vague rules can and will lead to admins overstepping based on their own personal feelings and not an objective rule to be followed, for a good rule to be made that can be sincerely followed, as someone above this said, things like "not on carrd, discord profile, etc" need to be included in the main post, not 3 pages into meme comments. every question i asked was namely for the sake of confirmations as to avoid confusion in ANY regard. It benefits artists who make a living off of such, but also those who they're trying to protect. Vagueness also means loopholes, it means actual creeps, and not just people making art, can and WILL try to find ways not specified to get around this ruling. A post like this regarding new policies should be as in depth as possible, and to illustrate the exact specifics of the rule for the benefit of both the enforcer and enforced.

This is what I'm stuck on as well, it's extremely vague. Adult artists who make art outside of LOTC, who may have LOTC patrons are left in a very strange position. While this update is necessary, admins should certainly consider being more specific than simply "profile". As well, what of NSFW art made of LOTC characters made unaffiliated? In a discord not advertised on any lotc servers, but still made by an lotc player, is a huge gray area, and an important one. Moderation/admins cannot intend to ban people on what they do outside of LOTC, even if it's of characters played on it. the server doesn't own any of these characters, it's the players intellectual property. What of people who play on LOTC and get this art from people who ARENT on the server? Obviously they cannot and should not share it amongst LOTC affiliated discords, but what if they have a personal one that happens to have lotc players? I feel this post and amendment needs a lot of specifications not given, that without feel as if there's an intent to police what people do OUTSIDE of lotc (this being said, i feel if i dont explicitly state this, people will intentionally be incompetent: no, i don't think nsfw should be shared in LOTC spaces, nor in any place children can be. What im saying is that one cannot intend to police peoples personal lives if they don't harm others)

The mighty Kharajyr had been in prayer atop the Eittitican pyramid when the meteor struck, a blast of heated air ruffling his fur. Hastily, despite his aging body, he rushes to the edge to view the carnage, and bristles slightly as realization dawns upon him. With this loss; his people must find another place to live. Yhl'Kabuki, Aelkos of SOUL, turns to seek a new home.

From his place on the Eittitica pyramid, the mighty kha's fur is blown by the blast, heat all consuming. He turns from his prayer, and rushes to the edge to be met with the vicious sight... His eyes shut tightly for a few moments, the meaning of such dawning on him: His people have to find a new home. Yhl'Kabuki, Aelkos of the Kharajyr, stands, and begins his search for a safer place to be

`*•° Ohowaki’s Journey °•*` ✯¸.•´*¨`*•°✾°•*`¨*`•.¸✯ If Fal’leon could choose anywhere to wake up after a wild drug trip, a giant birds nest lofted hundreds of feet in the air, with the smoldering desert sun beaming down, would be last on his list. And yet, that’s exactly where he finds himself. The sound of hoofbeats drumming in the distance is what properly stirs him to wakefulness, groggy and unfocused. His eyes slowly open, heavy from the concoction his Priest had given him prior to the journey. Despite them opening, light barely makes its way to his pupils, filtered heavily by a fabric… A blindfold, it seems. His lips part and a groan escapes him, remarkably displeased with the circumstances he finds himself in. In doing so, the taste of warm straw fills his mouth. Ho w peculiar. Heavy arms reach behind his head, and he fumbles with the knot that ties it tightly. Eventually, he unloops the ends and slides the blindfold off of him, immediately squinting as the unburdened rays of the harsh desert sun fill his senses. Able to see now, his head swivels, met with the desolate landscape of sand and dunes, broken up only by the occasional cactus or spiering plataus. The smell he’d been overwhelmed with, in looking downwards now, appears to be the next of a giant bird. The bones of various victims surround him, and a couple of large eggs sit neatly within some smaller straw nests. Bones… Giant eggs… Startled with the realization of- which took him longer than normal thanks to still coming off that high- this being the nest of a giant carnivorous bird, Fal’leon begins to hastily clamor towards the plateau's ridged side and out… It’s only as he’s nearly thrown himself out, he remembers… He’s a druid. Animals don’t attack druids. Flushing in embarrassment at his own panic, the half drugged elf more calmly slips out of the giant nest. His thinking is only returning in a slow trickle, but he knows for certain his final trial is to navigate back to Amathine. The desert, at least, gives him a very easy start on figuring out where he is. Somewhere near Krugmar, presumably, meaning his target location must be south west. Navigating the places he’s already explored sure beats being a bird in a strange forest… He’d be telling his Priest about that one for sure. At least it wasn’t a bad trip? Fal’leon begins to slowly descend the steep cliff-face, fingers wrapping around the ridges to support his weight. His stomach churns as he looks down towards the desert sand below, wobbling slightly in his still drugged state. Hastily, the druid turns away and faces into the plateau, a few ragged breaths escaping him as he attempts to calm his racing heart. Typically, this task would be nothing to him, but with a foggy mind every action ends up feeling as if he’s moving through thick sludge, his body responding slower than what he needs. Each few meters of descent involve a break to calm himself. Fal’leon’s body has already become sweat drenched, his robes and pants sticking to him uncomfortable. The accursed sun is unrelenting, mocking him in a cloudless sky. And yet, finally, the man’s feet reach the desert’s floor. Sand shifts under his weight and already begins to fill his shoes, much to his dismay. He’s never been fond of sand. But, at least there was no more almost slipping to his peril. Now, it’s simply to walk towards Amathine. The druid lifts a hand and rests it against his browbone, shielding his eyes from the harsh rays, trying to figure out which way East and West might be. Of course, entirely inconveniently, it appears to be right around noon, the sun lofted nearly directly above him by now. He groans, agitated by the difficulty, and simply begins walking in a direction. Surely, eventually, he’ll come to something to signify his location, regardless of if it’s a bit further away than ideal. ✯¸.•´*¨`*•°✾°•*`¨*`•.¸✯ Fal’leon trudges along through the desolate landscape slowly, wobbling with every other step with the uneven footing of the loose sand. Even through the soles of his shoes, the sand burns against his feet, making the travel that much more difficult. Finally, after what felt absurdly long, his eyes are brought with solace. Just passed the hill he’s been walking over, he can see tracks from carts, horses, and footsteps; the main road, worn down and distinct. The man breaks out into a sprint, nearly slipping and landing face first into the grains below him. As his steps become firm under the compacted path, he slows his pace. The druid bends and rests his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, each inhale of air causing his throat to grow drier and drier. Maybe running was a mistake? Whatever, he doesn’t care, he’s found something solid to go off of. A path is good. Better yet, with the passage of time, the sun now hangs lower in the sky and clearly denotes his direction. He squints upwards for a moment, his mind beginning to clear ever so slowly. Not entirely, not at all, but enough that he can process the cardinal directions. Fal’leon follows the path south east as it meanders across the landscape, and soon enough the desolate landscape begins to show signs of life. Lush ferns droop over the path, which has begun to shift from sands into worn down dirt. The cacti of the desert are replaced with jungle trees that reach up to the clouds, and birds of countless colours flurry out from the canopy of leaves they create. He sucks in a breath of the humid air, familiar humidity. The sounds of the rain forest’s life, both the druidic song and the audible, fill his ears comfortably. Cicadas drone on, birds singing their songs, the large rivers rapids flow. If he wasn’t drenched in sweat, it might be lovely. Going from here is of ease to the druid, the simple task of heading south towards the jungle beaches. Occasionally, someone on horseback rides the opposite direction of him, sparing a passing glance. Fal’s clothes stick to him, the sweat and humidity only worsening the further south he travels. His thirst is monumental, and temptation to drink from the river flowing to his right grows with every moment. That, combined with the still lingering drugs in his system, makes the walking more unbearable. To his left, the path splits off, and a wooden sign stands proudly, with the word he’s been looking for etched into it: AMATHINE. Fal’leon turns towards it, sauntering along the path. He’s so thirsty. His journey takes him past the new settlement along the road, and he grimaces in disgust. Such an unfortunate thing, ruining the landscape and silencing nature's song. If he had any less of his better judgment, he’d have gone in and began to overgrow the plantlife. Thankfully, the drugging has all but worn off by now. Even still, he, as always, takes the long way around the settlement, casting it glares every so often. Soon enough, Fal’leon is greeted with the sight of the mali’ame kingdom, and his pace hastens. His muscles burn with the demand to rest, but, that can wait for one of the beds in his seedhall. He stumbles through the kingdom, through the glade, and into his home. He beelines for the bucket of clean water he keeps and dunks his head in, gulping it down hastily. Once contently quenched, Fal makes his way towards the beds and slumps onto one, letting himself doze off… He’ll find his Priest tomorrow and hand it in, for now, rest.

Vrim, the nefarious little imp who had been the utter and complete core player in this siege, or in its mind that's what it was, cackles into the blotted darkness. Despite not doing anything of substance, not even getting a measly scratch in on anyone, he's extremely proud that HE manipulated all these lessers to aid in his glorious victory, unrefutable! "Vrim win!!! Vrim WINS! Next... Vrim kill kill ALL!!!"

this may have been asked already, but does the freeze on shamanism apply to writing in lesser spirits for cultures, or is it in specific reference to rewrites and similar things?

Fal'leon sits in the secure, hidden location of the Grand Moot, preemptively awaiting his brethren to arrive. "I pray uni'iy may finally r'turn tae our Order, aye Crowley?" The raven perching on a gnarled tree root simply caws in response, not exacting grasping what he's saying, with or without Beastspeak.

traitorrr my son a traitor!!! *crying*

i love them

Shrine

Champion documentation (progressing Ra'tuhmet shrine in Rah'tuma to T2. Only two champions needed for T2 progress) Ninkthaguz Champion 1 - Forge a weapon imbued with clear symbolism depicting Ra'Tuhmet to be used when killing in his name [Complete] - Loft an obelisk in a foreign nation, ensuring it is easily seen by others and has access to sunlight during all hours of the day [Complete] Rahknar Champion 2 - Forge a weapon imbued with clear symbolism depicting Ra'Tuhmet to be used when killing in his name [Complete] - Introduce someone who doesn't know of Ra'tuhmet to his faith and teachings [Complete]

⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ Blood... Darkness... Screams, pain, death... Ketsuki's life had been drowned in blood, gore, and utter devotion for as long as her memory served her to remember. And at the centre of it all, the SUN. The sun, the giver of warmth and life. She had spent a hundred long years, an occultist whose devotion to the false Sun of her idealization could rival that of the most zealotic canonist. When the curse of the vampires took hold of her being, she accepted it with open arms, a gift from the Sun it must have been. Stumbling into Rah'tuma was an accident brought on by curiosity, and having her vampiric curse purged was even less planned than that. And yet, Atemu-Ta saw her devotion to the sun, and brought her to finally come to serve his true self. When she was purified, cured and fixed, it was the Sun's visage she was made to wittness Sat in a circle of others, Ketsuki listened to the netjers of Rah'tuma speak, much passing through her attention. She could focus upon nothing more than the prospect of what was to come. The deity she had followed would finally be true to her, the false sun a memory of her past. Slipping into sleep as the ritual began, she found herself in an ethereal form, both divine and horrific, burning with light. Her companions, and herself, all worked to lift the sun saucer they stood atop, to raise themselves to the great light of creation. Ketsuki found this action to come to her as easily as breathing, matched and excelled only by the pharaoh himself. The group stood, waiting... ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ HIM. Ra'tuhmet, Spirit of Eternal Sunlight and Solar Wrath [lesser of aztran] His mighty form appeared before them all, falcon head adorned with Rahmun garbs, and stared down. Ketsuki didn't pay attention to the conversing prior, she could only look between the sunlit god and Atemu, waiting for her moment, her truest chance to prove devout. "Bring her forth, the one who was purified before me." Ketsuki stepped forwards, and could only drop to her knees and bow before the Sun god. "Please, great god of light, I know i've spent... the last forever praying to a false version of you, but my devotion has been true. I want only to spread your name. Please, Ra'tuhmet..." "I have heard you for centuries passed now. Misguided, but prayers to me are heard under all names. Ketsuki, I will make you an extension of my rays, you must spread the light of creation, hoist a great obilisk in my name. Bring power to me, sunstruck one." And so, he raised his staff and allowed it to touch the woman's soul, imbuing her with his heka so that she may carry the torch of his light. The world around her crumbled away, and she awoke back in the shrine of Ra'tuhmet, lighter than before. It was from that day forth that the mali'ker would shed her identity, relieve herself the Vampiric Ketsuki, in place of the now Suntouched Khalida-Ra

"man, we really can't catch a break." The sunblessed priestess sighs... A delish imp grins with excitement at such news "more chaos!!! die die!!!!" "I like this kraken... Ayla fella, takin' ou' a ci'y and darkspawn? wha' a useful ac'." The Corvid grins and plays with a newly brandished bracelet idly. A large kha figure furrows his brows in concern, "netlapohua inin nehcahuacahua."

The mighty kha lets a low rumble of a laugh escape his lips, amused by such a proclamation. "it is of too bads they'd not known Eittitica planned to be removing the shrine anyways... Less work for Kabuki, he thinks. Foolish, non thinkers. Know not that khas devotion to the fallen Muuna wavers not even when gone." And thus, begins the construction of the greater shrine of Metztli An evil little imp catches wind of these occurrences, and begins to jump around with excitement. "Ra’drakurz raht roknoth kuul ra’vaznan amol tul. KILL THE WEAK. DEATH!!! THEY ALL DIE!"

im so glad you think so!! :D

The great druid of Crows and Ravens and Rooks bows his head solemnly. He hasn't seen his son in decades, the last remnants of his past life had been in his granddaughter. Waves of regret wash over him, how much time could he have spent with her? How could he have wasted her precious and fleeting life like this, how could he have dared to not play a bigger role? His own granddaughter! Fal'leon slumps against the back of his dining room chair, alone in his seed hall, forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. The life he had abandoned continues to wither and die without his presence, and despite his confidence in his choices, he laments not taking more with him. An era was ending swiftly, only one of the lineage of his time as Minister remained standing. Silently, he swears to himself to play a bigger roll in the last one standings' life. First, however, he sits before the totem of Kholibrii, the mani of Melody's lineage, and places Calla Lily before her visage. "Kholibrii, adont’ahern Melody aher perith'leh. Ito talonnii narne, ame nae evareh..." He hesitates, drawing in a breath before folding the news of her death and setting it among the million other letters he's received as of late. "Llun ito kae'leh, Lenniel... kae'leh div'ito..."