SethWolf

HE GOT HIT WITH AN ARROW, HYPER-EXTEND THE HEAD, MAKE SURE HE DOESNT SWALLOW THE KING LT!! WE HAVE TO GET HIM INTUBATED! >medical automaton pulls up to act as my pulseoximeter >by this time im sweating and screaming in the vc WE'VE GOT PNEUMOHEMOTHORAX! WE NEED TO INITIALIZE NEEDLE DECOMPRESSION! GET ME THE CHEST SEAL, STAT! >the pink tag who just wanted to be a nurse is scream crying in the corner out of sheer terror

At the end of the Viscount's long walk through the skies of his Lord, did he find a lush paradise of vivid forests, swamps of dancing fireflies and tall fauna that would be the thing of legend if they had existed within the waking realm. The sun was lazily setting over this verdant paradise, and the sounds of running waters ambled free in his ears. A river, long and snaking did it rush was only meters ahead of him. There by the river ye, they sat. Two familiar silhouettes cast against the water that had now absorbed the setting-sun's amber glow. They appeared to be fishing. As Audo's feet crushed the crisp green grass of the riverbank, did the taller figure rise - a black shadow against the river. It was Felix Weiss, and sat next to the old lion was Audo's sister, Sierra @Dinochad. The man did not immediately move to greet his son. At first, he seemed only to try and get a measure of him. Felix then stepped forth and put an arm around Audo to greet him as an equal. Felix had lost his many scars aswell - save his eye which curiously had not been restored upon his arrival into the skies. He was not the tired, angry and crippled old man Audo had known him as last he saw him. "We made you a rod for the occasion, son. Sit now by these waters and enjoy the peace. Tomorrow, we go hunting." His father then pat Audo's shoulder, and moved to continue enjoying their never-ending paradise with his family. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Eikthyr had learned of the Viscount's passing through whispers in the meadows and many forests that man had not yet desecrated. He roamed the dark forests in quiet contemplation of Audo's passing. Eikthyr knew in his heart of hearts that if he was to save himself, he must die a man and die with a heart full of love. He quietly moved then to bring his finger to an ancient log, a log where he and Audo had last spoken. He carved into the bark of the ancient Firr a single word, "Hope." ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Kalador perhaps may have once felt bad for taking Audo's body without even having asked his fellow warriors permission first, but he knew Audo better than most - than anyone alive, he would likely wager. He hoped that his friend would have approved of delivering his body to the Weiss, so he may be lay to rest with his kith and kiln. Kalador came to Aevos not knowing of his heritage as an Elf, and what that meant. A life of immortality, oh what a wonderful gift. He understood now the horrible, twisted nature of the curse of his kind. He may not see his brother for a thousand years - perhaps, even more or never again. Kalador had no recourse to salve that wound upon his heart. Audo and he would likely never, ever see eachother ever again in this life or the next. Great and terrible melancholy ruled him, and likely would be a persistent wound upon his soul until his mind left him and he fell victim to the folly of his kind. Kalador decided then that if this were to be his fate, Audo would not allow him to sink into the mud and pity that perhaps many others in his situation would have fallen to. Kalador would keep fighting for a better world, a world where the death of a good man like Audo would never happen in the first place. Audo was now in heaven, but perhaps Kalador could achieve Babylon in this one.

I paid @Greehn to do it.

400,000,000 DEAD COMMIE BOTS

A young Siegmund Weiss eagerly awaits his enlistment date in the Brotherhood!

Siegmund Weiss was sat in the reliquary of his family's keep, face wrapped in bandages drenched in salves and balms. Many candles encircled him, and the smell of incense was heavy in the room. His young mind as of recent was being rapidly sharpened as a blade to a whetstone as he read every bit of scripture and gospel he could find, and he would have been rarely seen outside of his little sanctum. The little Scion raised his face from the Scroll of Virtue, which was sprawled over his lap to gaze out of the stained glass window - and to the stars above. Pinpricks of Light besieged by Shadow. The night sky was very much like the order, an ocean of shadow interrupted only by islands of desperate light, standing in defiance of the darkness around them. His eyes drifted closed, and he spoke a prayer - for himself, and his soon to be comrades. He reached forth, to take up a mask of steel. He placed it upon his face, and stood. He prepared himself for the coming days, where his comrades would train him to be a righteous executor of perdition. His steel gaze looked down to Amaya's prayer beads that rested in his palm and for a single moment he promised both himself, and Godan: His bones may break, but his spirit never would. He turned on his heel, and made his journey to Valdev.

His pizzeria is the finest in-class. The animatronics are so life-like you could almost say they're real people! Come on admins, throw him in there!

A certain Haeseni, Siegmund Weiss looked to a poster upon his wall, detailing the patriotic expectations of his house, and consulted the sacred map. The child thus concluded, an empire was not in his best interests!

@Frostdrop1@Knight of Elken@Werew0lf@ItsMisterPip@Dinochad@Gloomsie@Crusteh 1. I'm not gunna write a huge paragraph explaining why I appreciate you guys, cause you already know. These dudes are the best. 2. The thing I like about LOTC is how funny the forums can be to read sometimes.

Probably not, but I also wouldn't be too keen on them romance roleplaying with strangers twice their age, either. Abolish romance roleplay entirely. Build stories, not bathhouses.

oh i know i was being facetious. i dont think musins should be a CA and all the arguments for them being one seem to be to 'uphold the standard of rp' like that isnt already a rule for everyone on the server regardless of what race they play

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/apply/new/?do=form&d=9

Happy Birthday! In your experience, what is the appeal of playing the bad guy and what about it do you find so engaging? Secondly, what is your favorite moment or storybeat to happen to one of your characters?

The First Great Epiphany Tales of the Nameless Wanderer A man with no name sat in a dark forest of pine nettles and tall fir trees that seemed to stretch all the way up into the sky like boney fingers grasping for the clouds. A fire was lit before him, and he watched the flames lick up at the desiccated pheasant that sat skewered above the flames. His eyes watched the embers dance up into the night sky to join the stars before reaching to a waterskin. It had been some time now since he had become a stranger to all he once knew. He felt marooned, a single castaway on a barren island in the middle of a great and vast ocean. In his past life, that had been much the same. He had never been capable of making human connections as others had, and that deficiency had always left him to feel misbegotten. Yet, now even the things he knew to be familiar were gone. The orchestra of chirping crickets and frogs continued to fill the air. It dawned on the wanderer then, that this was the first time in his life that he had not known war. Out here under the canopy of the trees he had found his first true sleep in decades not plagued by terrors. It was peaceful out here, hidden away and secluded with nothing to bother him or beg his attention. He could simply be, and in being he found himself capable of introspection. Who was he, then? A blood-soaked beast who would kill without a second’s thought. Through violence, death, and carnage he had found a sense of purpose. A beautiful, shiny shield to protect him from the harsh reality of what he was doing. Yet, when his purpose was taken from him he found himself unable to ignore the reality of his actions behind that protective cloak of purpose and duty. For the first time in his life there was nothing standing between him and the mirror that he had to face. In that mirror of his mind’s eye, he saw only a murderous villain who was drowning in the blood on his hands. The revelation caused tears to silently fall from his cheeks as the walls came tumbling down. But he found that without the influences of his past life tugging at his soul, he had come to know peace, and in peace the wanderer found the means to explore something lost to him. The tears that streaked his face were his salvation, a thin glimmer of hope that a man was still in there, somewhere in the depths of his soul. The wanderer was capable of change. The path before him now seemed much more demanding of him than he had previously anticipated. A journey that would force him to dive into the very depths of his own soul. The wanderer extinguished his campfire, and climbed into the canopy of treetops to find another night of peaceful sleep, to continue upon the treacherous path that was now taking him into deeper waters, into an unknown abyss.