ichigomaster98

The Newest Minor God arrives. "I forgot to bring a gift." they whisper to their fellow Norlanders.

The New God prepares the lever.

The Missinformation (missive information) Spreader spreads the missive, thus securing another favor debt from Farian.

Blanca's spouse sat next to their spouse, extending an arm to give Blanca a hug. There was little Io knew to say, but would be there now and for many years to remind Blanca she's not alone, and the family she made will be here for her.

IGN: ichigomaster98 Discord: Aliay Number of characters: 1 References: I will send everything I have over Discord

Io was here I want a kuriboh

You're welcome!

The Head Researcher on Breaking The Laws of the Cosmos and Limits of Mana listens to the audio-narration of this letter. "He already surrendered didn't he?"

>Posts bardmagery addition >Tells no one >Leaves I'm upvoting with the full certainty that I will find some way to break it somehow.

Emi forgot to mention you would be a child of Io, voted #1 main character of LoTC, arguably both blessing and curse. I will teach you how to throw small objects at many times the speed of sound, operate cannons, and become an entirely mundane eldritch entity. Discord: Aliay

The Dragonslayer stood ready by Cannon 1 on that fateful day. "Oh, a feather. Look Farian, a feather, it's good luck!" They declared when the call to fire the first volley was given. Immediately cannon one would fire, quickly followed by ten more. A cloud of smoke replaced the forest that had been there moments ago. The shooting stars of a further ten trebuchets streaked across the sky to fall like so many meteors on the enemy keep. All through the day the sky was darkened by trebuchets, and all through the night the sky would be lit by the reflections of cannon shot on the smoke and the clouds. And it continued. The smoke would clear, the artillery would reload, and another volley of fire descended upon the hill where the keep once stood, now little more than a pile of rubble. On and on this would continue until no more Ferrymen or fort could be seen. Then came the real battle. The ammunition had been exhausted, the siege engines all scuttled, the infantry stretched their legs. For the first time in what felt like months there was silence. Just as the keep, this silence too was soon broken. Not by cannon, but by battle cry. Like a wave the infantry and artillerists all would surge across the land towards the crater. The Ferrymen poked their heads out at the shouting in sparse pockets, and one by one the pockets were cut down by the mighty wave. The Breakwater was broken, its defenders with it. Breakwater failed to live up to its name. At some point in the melee Io would chase ten Ferrymen into a rout before laying down to take a nap. When Io awoke they found all of their equipment was gone, but Io had seemingly been carried back to the siege fort. So Io did what any sensible Norlander would do, they charged empty-handed back towards the dying screams of battle without a second thought, but with a few words: "IRON FROM ICE!" Just as their grandfather had before, Io sieged Stone Tower and won. Two more to break the record. On to Brasca.

The Carrot King suddenly feels a warmth in his heart he hadn't in some time. After a brief check to make sure he had not been shot he continues to fight in a far off land. The Peacemaker hears thunder in the distance that would not stop for several days straight. He has a sneaking suspicion peace is being made. The Dragonslayer hums along to a song as they break Breakwater and prepare to bust Brasca, carrying on the family tradition of sieging Stone Towers wherever they may be. "Boom boom boom boom!" comes forth their voice as does the shot from their cannon and all the cannons of their fellow artillerists.

The Carrot Laird is too busy killing darkspawn elsewhere. The Peacemaker looks over the letter several times, beginning to suspect he's seeing things. The Dragonslayer prepares aurum great arrows in addition to the usual black ferrum arrows.

Oh dang, someone beat me to posting contract magic

The Bandit Demon prepares, plots, and schemes many things.

Corvid Curiosity There sat, all alone, a creature with orange hair, sitting on a dock with legs dangling over the end, back to the planks, and gaze to the sky. The creature inhaled and exhaled, watching clouds lazily drift by in the sky, interrupted only occasionally by sparse migratory flocks of various types of birds sailing across the sky. Every now and then a cloud might be shaped interestingly, or a single snowflake would fall to land on the creature’s forehead. It was always the forehead. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale- CAW! One of the birds dove out of the sky from the East, down towards the land, and disappearing behind the trees. The creature on the dock sat up, turning around towards the forest, looking for any sign of the beast. Though they could see no sign of the bird, the sounds made it apparent it was still near enough. Hopping up from the dock and patting the dirt and dust off their clothing the orange haired creature started to walk towards the edge of the forest. After a few minutes of careful travel the orange haired creature arrived at the edge of a clearing surrounded by fallen jagged trees. In the center of the clearing was a great raven sitting atop a mound of fur. As the immense raven dipped its head it would peck at the mass and tear some flesh away. On closer inspection the furry mound was the body of a Norlandic giant beaver, the bird atop it was easily two men tall and its wings were far wider. Occasionally lightning would arc from the body of the tremendous corvid as it flapped its wings to maintain balance. The obscured orange haired creature observed in rapt fascination for what seemed like hours, taking note of every detail, when suddenly the massive raven gave another thunderous caw. Massive wings beat the air surrounding them into submission as the enormous bird quickly launched into flight. Spears of lightning arced off the body of the bird, singing nearby trees on contact and started little fires in piles of dead leaves which were soon mercifully put out by the gust caused by the wings. With a final caw the raven flew North, becoming gradually smaller until its mighty size could no longer be distinguished against the other birds of the sky. All the while the orange haired creature watched, until finally the raven could no longer be seen. Moving to inspect the corpse of the giant beaver, it was clear it died suddenly and violently. It seemed the giant raven made full use of its size and strength, foregoing the scavenging tactics its smaller versions often employed and instead created its own meals. What was left of the beaver would surely attract the other forest creatures of the Norlandic countryside to its feast, and so the orange haired creature departed just as quickly as the raven had. Thoughts of the close corvid encounter still fresh on the mind, the orange haired creature returned to the Norlandic capital with haste. Filling a pack with enough provisions for a possibly lengthy journey and bringing along anything else that might be of use, they soon set off again out the Eastern gate of the city, and heading along the lake Northwards into the stark snowy desert. Though the orange haired creature wouldn’t be alone, being accompanied by a blonde haired creature as well. All that was left behind to signify they had left was a single note on the wall of the orange one’s bedroom, doodled in orange crayon, upside down and backwards as always.

Todd’s Terranean Troubles Todd was a very ordinary frog cultist. Well, as ordinary as any self-respecting frog cultist could be. Todd had ventured far across the lands to the edge of the barren Northern snow deserts, as if called by an unknown force. He would soon come to find this mysterious force being emitted by a beautiful frog statue deep beneath the Norlandic fortress city of Vjardengrad, er, Vansk? Todd wasn’t quite sure what the name of the city was, but he was certain that this frog idol was important, and it was up to him to figure out why, as any good frog cultist would. As Todd gazed and gawked at the alluring amphibious array he didn’t get much done. It wasn’t entirely his fault, surely. It was the statue’s fault! Yes, that’s it. It was the froggy formation’s formidable force! Very soon however other frog brethren would assemble to observe the gently humming frog statue that was so deep beneath the city, past the dangerous sewers full of goblins and giant spiders and ghastly ghouls and giant minotaurs and greedy, gaunt dwarf. On reflection it was surprisingly easy to get down to the statue’s sanctuary, surely another blessing of the great frog god. Reveling in rapturous respect for the great frog would not last long however as the rebellious revenging rapscallions of the Red Cloaks would rupture a wall, revealing Todd and his froggy friends. That was one of the many strange things to Todd, why were they called ‘Red Cloaks’ when they didn’t wear cloaks of red. Whatever. Those bastards beat him (for absolutely no reason whatsoever) and broke the beautiful frog god’s great croaking by feeding it bread! It seemed to like that. Why didn’t he think of that? Surely he had much to learn as a frog cultist to appease the great froggy one. After being left tied up by those pesty, simpleminded, shiny city guards Todd was left laying on the floor at the flippery feet of His fearsome frogness. He was quite fine with this at first, not sure why the blonde one had complained so much. Then he began to become hungry. “Hello?! Yo ho! Where’d you all go!” he called to the dark. He heard no response. “Never fear, Todd dear! It is quite clear where I must steer!” he encouraged himself, wiggling like a worm. A glance up to the great frog made him feel quite silly. Here he was! A perfectly good frog cultist! Reduced to being a worm! For shame! He should be eating worms, not being worms, but what could he do? If he struggled too much surely he would fall into the water, and he wasn’t quite sure how amphibious he really was. If he struggled too much in the other direction he’d be stuck and in pitch blackness. “Oh dear, I’m rather frogged here. If only I could reach a friendly ear!” Todd began to count the bricks in the wall. When he ran out of bricks he began to count rocks. When he ran out of rocks he began to count the times his stomach would grumble in hunger. Then he would repeat his process of counting. Wait a moment. Was that mug always there? Oh great, now he was stuck and going insane. One moment he was beginning to imagine a nice mug of frog grog, and the next he would start to lose all grip on reality. And now the mug was moving! Not very much, or very fast, but it definitely was moving. Todd could tell because it had passed pebble #1,034 and was now closer to pebble #971. Even his imagination wasn’t taking him seriously, truly Todd was hitting new lows in this new low cavern. Did… did that mug have a tongue? Todd only blinked a moment but he could have swore he saw something move. Was it a cave slug? A delicious worm? Now that the mug had passed pebble #524 he could see its details much clearer. It looked… wrong. As if someone had scribbled a mug from memory. No, not even from memory, someone had described what a mug looks like to a drunken baby baboon and then placed it in this dank, dark dungeon during Todd’s delirious daydreaming! “Come here so I can drink you! Wait, no, shoo! Oh, I have no clue! Do what you will do!” No sooner had Todd said those fateful words than did the mug lunge at him! With a very, ahem, manly and froggly scream Todd began to sob even faster than the mug pouncing at him. In his fit of fright Todd wiggled as any good frog cultist turned worm would! Pitifully, and fitfully! Just narrowly did the mug miss his nose in his squirming. “I’m not hungry anymore! Please exit through the door!” was all he could shriek before he watched the mug turn into some sort of horrific bug, with each band of the barrel mug turning into a horrible hand and the mouth of the mug, well, becoming a mouth. Todd had heard of these creatures before! Okay, well, he hadn’t, but it made him feel better to imagine he had. The mug lunged again, but Todd’s eyes were too full of tears for him to see it this time. Luckily his tears had wet the slippery stones beneath! Aha! All according to plan! Okay, well, it wasn’t, but it made him feel much better to imagine it was. The mimic mug missed mightily, mangling manhandled manchettes merrily applied by merciless guardsmen. In other words, Todd’s hands were free! “Have at thee! Your end is with me! Fiend!” Todd shouted at the mug, reaching out to grab the little monster. Todd began to scream as he first attempted to crush the mug between his hands, then finding no success he tried to pull it apart, his hands each on one of the many arms the mug had sprouted. “Grrrrraaaaaaahhh-ha!” Pop! “Aha!” Todd exclaimed as the arms were ripped like, well, like ripping arms off of a mug. The mug released a terrible little screech itself as it ran off, having been bested and spending an arm and a leg-arm in the attempt. “That is right! Run in fright! Enjoy your plight!” Todd called after the little bastard. Todd decided its name was Farian, or maybe Grimm. It was then Todd realized his arms were free, and he was now armed with arms. Todd rolled over, looking up to the frog god statue with his prizes still in hand. Todd realized he had won the fight because his truly merciful and great frog god had bid him to survive so he could hop along, spreading the word of frog god as any good frog cultist should. Todd began to cry again, not the salty tears of desperation and fear, but the sweet tears of success and service to a being greater than him. As his gaze returned to the mimic’s arms he knew what he had to do. He opened his mouth as big as he possibly could, and he placed both arms entirely into his mouth, just as any frog would. They tasted terribly disgusting. Todd finished freeing himself, stood, blew a kiss to the frog statue, and wandered out of the cavern. Past the goblins and giant spiders and ghastly ghouls and giant minotaurs and the greedy, gaunt dwarf Todd went, climbing up a ladder to a great grate. It wouldn’t budge. He gave it a good shake, and it still wouldn’t budge. He even headbutted the grate, but the only thing that gave way was his will to try that again. He could tell daytime was coming in the city above, as it was subtly becoming brighter through the grate. Just as soon as he began to give up hope he saw a tuft of orange hair appear, and the grate pried open with a great force. “Hooray! What a day! I am free, yay!” Todd cheered. “Free? Well, I suppose you are free from the sewers, but you owe me a favor now.” came the response from the orange-haired being. “I owe you a task? I did not ask!” Todd argued. Todd was halfway towards being shoved back down into the sewers when he finally relented. “Fine! I owe you this time!” he acquiesced. “Okay! Don’t die.” was all the orange creature said as it replaced the grate and wandered off. “I hate Snoreland. Boreland. What a chore–land. I do not adore-land.” Todd complained to himself as he hopped along Southwards, as he had heard previously there was another statue very similar to the one in the deeps, and he had heard it was named Thomas. Or John. Jhomas. Tohn. Something. All Todd knew was that it was a frog-eat-frog kinda world, and he was feeling kinda froggy.

A certain retired king grows a few more frown lines as he reads of the disappointing goings on of the allies he worked very hard to make. A certain bandit hunter wanders more of their attention down South. "I didn't expect those ones to be the next bandits I find. I hope it's only a few bad ones, I don't want to have to kill Yera or the goddess." They think out loud to their horse Whitman as they arrive to the gates of Nevaehlen. "Hello! I'm here to help you hunt bandits!"

Io reads the flier which flew to Norland at impeccable speeds just as they put their own brand new squire to bed for the night. Io considers the flier for a moment before deciding their very own Fishacus will become the best squire or he will die in the process.

'The Peacemaker' absolutely read this. 'The Dragonslayer' absolutely did not read this.

The sentiment that staff shouldn't meet the requirements of their position is a weak one. If being unbiased and having common decency, maturity, and meeting a baseline of expectations is too hard to meet for someone then they simply should not be staff of any sort. Admin position should feel like work because it is work. Nobody made anyone else become staff, they decided to do the work. If they're not doing the work then they shouldn't be staff anymore. I don't see how there's room for anyone to disagree on this, why is someone staff if they're not doing their job? Do your job. On a side note, LotC Moderation Team Discord server should really just be the forums. That server is both obscure to get in and pretty tyrannical with the constant mutes for disagreeing with certain staff members, and adds another server of bloat to my maxed out Discord server list. In the process of writing this message I was asked what that server is by someone I had help me proofread, this is not an uncommon occurrence. The general sentiment I hear is that it just shouldn't exist. Use the forums. On another side note, I agree auction house should return. Its removal has only worsened the economy, and the arguments that it creates trader roleplay are just wrong. If you want to walk around to sell items and deal with all the headache that comes with it then the revival of the auction house won't stop you. Why not have both?

There's groups of toxic players here and there, but the worst of them have red and blue names and enable the others to be how they are. Staff letting people blatantly cheat constantly and doing nothing about it, then punishing people following the rules, is probably the #1 thing for me not wanting to play on the server at the moment. The fishing plugin is pretty cool though, and it's only half the time chunks aren't loaded.

[!] A simple yet informative invitation is delivered to the citizens of Norland and those of her allies- The Cove, Adria, Haelun’or, Talar’nor, Balian, Elvenesse, and Petra Norlandic Yard Sale and Auction 12th of Caedric’s Kindling, 466 Age of Stifled Flame You are cordially invited to join us on our day of mercantilism and merriment as citizens of Norland and citizens of other nations auction off belongings in the center of Norland's capital city! Those interested in reserving a space to display their wares may contact any member of King's Council. Spots will be reserved on a first-come basis. Other festivities and games may be held according to the interests of the crowd. Please join us on our day of sales and salutations! Signed, By the Blood of the Herald Odin Freysson Ruric, Chieftain of the Freyssons [OOC] Tuesday, August 8th 4 PM EST Location: Vjardengrad, Norland

Odin 'The Peacemaker' Freysson Ruric intends to keep the peace and provide his other clan members with what they need.