Beholder

I definitely feel as though removing rep would be a decent step toward addressing the underlying toxicity on lotc, or at least as it appears on the forums. You're right, a lot of people see rep as a metric of popularity, it's a numbers game where bigger number = more right in a lot of people's minds. Whether this is in the form of dismissive posts from one faction or people rallying their discord to give rep so they ratio another person's post, I feel like the only real benefit to rep on the forums is the spike of dopamine you get from seeing your number go up. EDIT: An update due to reflecting on my dumb monkey brain: Even on this post discussing rep, I find myself refreshing the page to check how much rep I have.

"As good an outcome as kin be expected, ah suppose." Briga muttered upon reading the missive. The actions of Zahir were surprising to read, and in her opinion simply removing him from his position was too light a punishment. She felt as though the gravity of what Zahir had done had been largely glossed over. Less surprising was the banishment of Alaric - She was honestly surprised it had taken this long to happen, given how public the discourse between him and Ulfar had been in the past... She fully anticipated another missive from Alaric would be sent out soon.

Another Iron Assembly... One she would be unable to attend, again. Hopefully this would not result in the bloodshed of her kin.

While Briga understood and sympathized with Hefrumm's frustration, this was the second time she had seen Alaric's name attached to a letter questioning Ulfar's capacity to rule. Ever since the election, and perhaps before then, it seemed the two were constantly at odds. At this point, Briga saw the attachment of Alaric's name to anything critical of Ulfar as the mark of a personal grudge rather than adding legitimacy. Like Alaric, Briga was one of the original signatories of the Ember Alliance when Garedyn had first proposed it... While she hoped the best for Hefrumm, despite her lack of present-day relation with the territory, she did not foresee this demand for abdication accomplishing much.

Briga can think of nothing more heinous than the theft of another's facial hair. Were this to happen in Urguan the offender would face worse than a 50 mina bounty!

Briga sat atop her anvil, the will she'd received held limply in her hand. The fuel for the forge had long burned to embers, what heat that remained quickly fading. She stared at the coals, mind elsewhere. Vidnyr... Ursus had been a student of hers, and she a student of his. A friend and an ally. A known master of many crafts and magics, she saw Ursus as the ideal that Ironguts should strive toward. There were so few of her kin Briga could relate to, and now... One less. The embers died, and Briga stared. It was cold.

"Hm." While she would not agree to anything without further details, it wouldn't hurt to send a bird.

Briga recognized the boots she had given to a certain Dwarven King and felt a little sad. It never felt good when your gift was regifted and then sold on an auction.

"YAR HAR!" Briga had no idea what pirates actually sounded like, but she was along for the ride!

There's absolutely no reason to deny this, a potion like this has been a long time coming. +1

A CERTAIN COVETOUS DWARF ZEALOUSLY DEVOURS THE LOST KNOWLEDGE.

I see the logic, but personally I don't think Golemancy is involved enough to warrant an entire Magic slot. You can't really do that much with it. Obviously I'm biased because I'd like to keep my feat without giving up a slot but idk. Maybe if Golemancy could make more than just one golem every month and prosthetics I'd agree. I feel like rather than it becoming a specialization it'd be seen as something no one wants, because nothing else that lets you create constructs and prosthetics requires a dedicated magic slot, they're all feats.

The call to Ironguts might as well have been directed at Briga and maybe one other Dwarf. If asked, she'd perform her usual magical feats, but she honestly didn't think there was enough left of her clan to assist outside an individual capacity.

Chill night air blew in from the open window of the stone apartment that an old Dwarf called home. She sat upon the cold stone of the only “furniture” in the room, a solitary Golem anvil. With a metallic hand, she absently traced the sigil engraved on its center. In her other hand was a nearly empty bottle. This was not an uncommon state for the Dwarf. Of late there was scarcely a moment she was fully sober. Self medication, she jokingly called it. It was the only way she could get to sleep, the only thing that dulled the constant pain of her joints. She shifted in her seat, the simple movement causing her to ache. Gods she was tired. Briga was sleeping more and more, but it never felt like enough. Her sleep had never been particularly restful. The Dwarf had been plagued by nightmares and night terrors most of her life, but now… Briga’s eyes were twin orbs of flame, their glow the only light in the dark room. She looked upon the empty bottles littering the floor. With a final swig of the whiskey in her hand, another joined their ranks. Slowly, the Dwarf laid down upon the anvil. Beds were too soft for her to find comfortable, she’d found. Yet still sleep failed to claim her. Her eyes remained open, staring at the wall. Even with the drink in her system, her heartbeat was swift. An existential fear she dare not speak aloud cycled in her mind. Her body was failing. With every rest becoming longer, how much longer would it be until there came a rest from which she would never awake? Though she was loath to admit it, she was afraid. Terrified. Though she’d taken steps to ensure this would not be her final end, she had never died before. The unknown kept her awake more than her chronic insomnia, and even with the aid of spirits it proved elusive. She was so tired. Every day she felt slower, her mind foggier. Her body was failing and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Briga’s eyelids gradually drifted shut. The glow of her eyes fading and her thoughts becoming unfocussed. Finally the oblivion of the sleep she dreaded called to her. She was too far gone to worry any longer. … The heat of midday woke Briga from her slumber. She had slept far too long, yet still not enough. Her head felt like someone had jammed a metal spike into it. Slowly, painfully, the Dwarf rose to her feet. She was so tired. But no, not yet… Not yet.

You can't fix this. CRP at its core is two players strategically arguing their case for why they should win a fight. Unless it's two friends CRPing, no one wants to lose. People will call out every fault they can find in an effort to win, it's something that's built around arguing. It's even worse when there are actual stakes because people will get incredibly invested and refuse to concede without an argument. Hell every CRP I've ever been a part of lasts for hours and I'm lucky if half of it isn't just arguing in OOC.

Briga read the blatant provocation and found herself perplexed. Hatred toward her kin was a common enough thing, though very rarely expressed in an open invitation to combat, much less one directed at the whole of Urguan. She wondered what the agitator sought to gain should Urguan respond how they desired. For that matter, the Dwarfess was curious how Urguan would respond to this seemingly random letter of contempt. It would be a bit extreme, in her opinion, to mobilize a force to assail an unknown citadel over a few petty insults... But Briga knew how eager her kind could be for a fight. And despite the supposed sturdiness of Dwarves, she knew their skin was at times very thin when it came to insults.

Briga glares at the self righteous, self aggrandizing tripe that was this "Treaty". All these concessions, and for only ten years of peace..? Peace that could, according to this treaty, be nullified at the drop of a hat? Terrible. It was not a treaty she would have ever agreed to. Briga would need to have words with Faeryel... If she was to retake her former position, this would not stand. ...How ironic that Celia'nor was concerned with darkspawn in other territories when not long ago Celia'nor was spoken publicly as the spook capital of the world. Gods she needed a drink. Rather than burn this missive in disgust as was her typical cliché, she kept it... Would be more dramatic to throw this on Faeryel's desk when she asked what the hell this was about.

Briga reads this missive - Gods there were a lot of missives these days - and once can only react with confusion. Well, whatever the truth of this odd declaration, she would still continue to teach her student. ...Hopefully Rhorgvar wouldn't be executed before his lessons were completed.

"Prolly th' only way this was goan tae go, 'onestleh." Briga says to herself upon reading the missive. For her, all this public back and forth was getting tedious to keep up with... But she was still fairly certain Alaric would post another missive himself in response to this one.

After sifting through the paragraph of personal attacks, Briga is able to read an account of what happened and realizes that this will likely be an issue the Justicar has to handle, or the Council of Lords like mentioned previously. None of her business at the end of the day, though all this drama helped no one.

A Dwarf aged beyond her years cannot help but read this announcement with more than a little confusion. She was wise enough to not jump to conclusions, knowing that making judgements based on an incomplete picture would serve no one. Hopefully the other side of this story would be told soon enough...

Many short pamphlets titled, "Interview with an Undead" were distributed across Aevos. The following is a brief interview between an anonymous interviewer and Lanre, the head of the Riftmaker's Association. The interview took place at at a neutral, prearranged location. Interviewer: "They call you Lanre. Is that how you prefer to be addressed?" Lanre: “That is fine.” Interviewer: "What prompted you to lead this group dedicated to the creation and utilization of tears?" Lanre: “I was killed, and it became the most viable course of action once I was revived in an undead state.” Interviewer: "Viable course for what, exactly? Research?" Lanre is silent for a moment before answering. Lanre: “No, the simple answer is to achieve power beyond what is reasonable and normal for Descendants, for the sake of competition with stronger things.” Interviewer: “You mentioned the creation of artifacts forged utilizing tears. Do you care to explain the mechanism for doing such a thing?” Lanre: “I have an artificer friend who is rather intelligent. He intends to place a large piece of machinery upon the massive Tear to channel its power directly. As for other things, spellforging is common nowadays, and many people have made an exodus to my projects to do it. Some people work on smaller artifacts, which they can wield upon their person; the power of the Tear will facilitate the creation of such things.” Lanre: “As for what I wish to achieve from this, I'm afraid it must remain a secret for now.” Interviewer: “I figured as much.” Interviewer: “Last question... if there are any magi who wish to join or support you even now, what would you say to them?” Lanre shrugs. Lanre: “I have no reason to refuse. My designs accommodate the possibility of betrayal.” Interviewer: “...Alright, thank you for your time.” The interview concluded without incident and the interviewer was allowed to leave unharmed.

Briga would read the missive, allowing herself a small smile. Sarah could be surprisingly subtle when wanted - The Dwarfess didn't miss the skewing of some details to make siege upon the rift seem like an overwhelming victory to the Riftbreakers. While the day ended in victory, there were more than a few unexpected factors and scares before they'd gotten to destroying the tear. That was all par for the course when it came to victory announcements such as this, she understood. Still, it'd been fun to get out onto the battlefield after so long. Briga didn't crave the heat of battle like many of her kin, but it had been nice to help her friends.

A Dwarf of questionable mental stability cannot help but read this missive and be more intrigued than alarmed. What could you create using the power of a tear? What manner of machine did he speak of? It was all very... interesting.