Damnit_Delmar

The Delmar looked to the missive, his head tilting as he read over the response several times, his dulled gaze squinting for a moment. "Hmmm, so he wants a tribute, does he?" His cracked lips twisted into a grin, the man strolling over to the cauldron, his head rolling about, as he began to fill the iron mixing pot with water. "Then tribute he shall have."

The Delmar looked towards the notice, his gaze scanning over the letter, mumbling and muttering over the words before he tossed it into a nearby flame. The old wildwynn taking a deep breath, the Farscryer pondering for a moment over the news, before his hands thrusted up into the air. A plethora of other papers flying about, as he began to stroll out from the room. "This, is why we make Contingencies, a shame you merely relied on my own ideas. Rather then grow your own. Though, at least your death offers me a few clues." A new letter penned, a plan changed, such was within the common day of the Farscryer and speaker to the damned.

Mostly the Story building aspect is most enjoyable, also challenging and seeing what can be grown from the improv aspect of the server. Since I always enjoy the more hands on interactive aspect of the servers story and world, when it gets shown. As for whether it has been more or less enjoyable over time? Depends, a lot of days it feels stale and repetitive, but there are other aspects that can bring some enjoyment.

That would honestly have to depend, I would for sure have to say one of the top ones, was the battle of Serheim, where it was like 20v20 crp battle against the paladins. Was pretty dope over all, though another favorite of mine was when my character Aurelion ended up becoming a Prophet for the 'Widu'. As for Necromancers killing human nobles, just a matter of supply and demand, Necromancers gotta get arts and crafts supplies and there is an abundance of human nobles. Simple business 101.

Fear, Flesh, and Fortune The Delmar awoke in a cold sweat, his withered digits curling into a tight fist, a cough wracking his withered form. His mind alight with the imagery, of burning buildings, of scorched earth, and crimson skies. They where sights that he often tied to the Infernal, to the howling damned Undead, and the bloodthirsty Vampyre. "Three Pillars" The man slowly rubbed his dulled orbs, the man blinking for a moment, as the faux hues focused upon the book upon that rested upon the top of his desk. The black leather of the Keys, coming to almost shine from the still flickering candlelight next to it. "Three Free Races" The Farscryer took in a deep breath, readying himself out of a bed, wizzened digits lingering towards the shelf. Slowly creaking it open to reveal the dangling crow orb. The mans fingers slowly floating and drifting with abyssal smog, and ebony feathers, as he began the arduous task of contacting those fellow foul. The bastard royal, taking this as a clue, a first step perhaps towards freeing himself.

I've seen so many do this, thought it was only right that I myself do one after all this time, so ask away.

The often referred to Delmar looks to the notice, a cackle erupting from the aged wildwynn, a boundless noise that radiated throughout the manor halls as he used the missive as kindling. "Oh, now this is funny, I've not used that name publicly in decades. Like finding a needle in a haystack- Or I suppose a grave in a graveyard." The proud bastard royal, continued to toss in the paper into the flames, mad laughter filling the grand halls as he continued on with his plans and schemes.

"Why this is troubling indeed, perhaps its time I give this Maor a warm welcome" The current Ithil pondered such, the man making sure to finish putting on the last of those silvered rings, as he began to prepare for the potential meeting.

I stick by the fact that removing Tawkin compatibility is dumb -1

A certain merchant looks towards the missive, an ivory guard passing it to him, as an ashen brow slowly lifts. "Well oh well, what have we here?"

I support any Noz post +1

The large and lanky form of that finely garbed wildwynn, floated upon the empty air, his bejeweled fingers clutching that notice. His lips where curved into a cruel grin, a smile of ivory presented as he began to dance upon the clouds. That missive soon finding itself flung into the old decrepit halls. "Well if my grandfather knows one thing, its how to put on a show!" The craftsman lowered himself upon the dusty bricks, hands coming to clasp together, as he made his way towards that abyssal workshop of his. For he had work to conduct.

A merchant scans over the missive, a brow lifting as he nodded his head in agreement. "While idiotic in their faith, I will agree with my kinsfolk on this single point. The Kazin'kuls, must indeed be Kazin'culled." A chuckle escaped the tanned Mali'dun, the merchant of the Sea going back to preparing that glorious coastal home of his.

A once Inquisitor of Kazimirs Inquisition hears the news, a prayer offered to Archangel Michael and Godan in hopes that his mentor fights honorably, and that his victory is secured.

A Grotesque Greeting The contents of these letters would be spread about the realm of Haensetti-Ruska, dropped off by various undead crows. Upon each letter, the sigil of a golden hydra could be seen, one differing to the common Xionist or Fifithist sigils. Greetings to you foolish nobles, wretched whelplings, and wounded knights. We of the Order of the Stygian Hydra graciously would like to extend our warmest welcomes to the citizens of the north. What would we be without the foolish flocks of mortals like yourselves? Like a wolf without sheep, we would starve, we would deteriorate, and our hunger would consume us. Yet it has not, for the weaklings such as yourself offer such gracious sustenance, offer such grand enjoyments of show and theater. After all, one cannot call that display of gore and cruelty last saints day to be anything but a show—a theater, a play, and most importantly, an introduction. Our creation still lingers in your woods, free from our shackles, for what fun would a bound beast be? Whether it attacks flesh or bone, friend or foe, such matters little, for we merely seek to start this play right; we’ve not even begun to reach the climax of this first act. So prepare, host your small forces, sharpen your blades, and focus on whatever foe you deem more pressing. Whether the skeletons amongst the hills or the undead amalgam lurking in your woods. We will be waiting and watching with a vested interest. As for those of the Fifth Lord, the Fifthists, if you will, let this declaration of battle also act as an olive branch. A hand of ivory offered to the fellow practitioners of our craft for any future endeavors involved with our most glorious art. Prepare, Ponder, and Plead For the Play has just Begun Gimilzor, Golden Fist of the Divine Tricksters, Ruler of the Black Sands, Arbiter of the Unholiness, The Primeval Serpent, Lord Commander of the Mistguard, Right Hand to Aurelion the Black. Icarian, The Crows Craftsman, Onyx Eye of the Divine Tricksters, Warlord of the Yen’Droch Rodi, Chief Architect of the Temple Daezmun,The Doctor, Ivory Blade of the Divine Tricksters, The Cursed Child of Malin, Bandit Lord of Almaris