Digit_005

A SECOND ENCOUNTER WITH CHIEFTAINS OF REINMAREN YORE [!] A mural depicting Theoderic summoning the Reinmaren people for Moot. As the brave men and women of Reinmar settled down for the night after a day of preparation for the coming war against the Ravenswood, a vision would come to those that had been BLOODED. You would find yourself within what looked to be a tribal camp, your trained eyes darting around for hostile natives. You would feel an air of reprieve as a Reinmaren man in full armor, dented and scratched from multiple battles stood in front of you; the shadowed eyes of the man looked towards you, masked by an iron faceplate similar to those of the officers of the Host of St. Johann. You recognize this man as Theoderic, one of the two most fabled Chieftains of Reinmaren history. Ancient Reinmaren war drums bellowed in the distance. “I called you back here to remind you of the storied legacy you are to uphold, blood of my blood!” The graveled voice of Theoderic called, he would walk up and put a gauntleted hand on your right shoulder. “On your mantle, you carry me and Gelimar’s legacy, much like the Blooded brothers and sisters before you that have passed on and returned here.” He proclaimed, gesturing with an outstretched hand to the Reinmaren that stepped out of their yurts and removed their helmets, here you would see the familiar faces of brothers, sisters, parents, or other family and friends that passed on from your world. Another man in the armor of a Chieftain, much like Theoderic, would stand at his fellow Chieftain’s flank. This one you recognized as Gelimar, who’s gauntleted hand now laid on your left shoulder. “For those who live, fight for the glory of Reinmaria. For those who will die, die with honor, o’ kin of mine.” Rang his voice within your ears, the wisdom of both Chieftains etched into the very corners of your mind. Suddenly, clouds parted and briefly showed the glory of the Fifth Sky as Saint Johann, the namesake of your Host, came down to meet with his kin. “Glory to GOD who watches the world from His throne in the Seventh Sky.” The Saint proclaimed to all within the camp, Theoderic and Gelimar stepped back to allow Johann to talk with you. The Barclay Saint walked up to you, his very presence steeled the resolve within your Blooded Reinmaren soul. “Hark these words from your Father GOD, as His Word is the Absolute Truth: The ground within Ravenswood itself cries out for salvation, this is your purpose in this campaign. Purify that accursed land in the name of GOD.” Saint Johann explained, your focus drawn to his message. “You, kin of mine, may fight for glory, but do so in the name of GOD the Father.” The Saint would walk away from you as his Barclay blue eyes looked at the gathered crowd of Reinmaren. “Honorable are the ones who die in the name of our LORD, glorious are those that fight in His Name! WER RASTET, DER ROSTET!” Yelled Saint Johann, pounding his chest plate loudly with his fist, sounding like thunder, in a Reinmaren salute to all as he began to ascend back to his place within the Seven Skies. “WER RASTET, DER ROSTET!” All that gathered yelled, including yourself, as everyone returned a Reinmaren salute to Saint Johann in unison before the clouds parted and then concealed his pious visage. Once the clouds came back together and calmed, Gelimar’s visage stood in front of you. “It is time for you to return to your brothers and sisters, o’ kin of mine.” His voice reverberated behind his helmet’s iron mask as he laid a hand on your forehead, then spoke in the ancient Reinmaren tongue before everything went black. When you opened your eyes once more, you were back home within the Reinmaren Capital of Kretzen; laying in your bed as rays of sunshine seeped through the windows of your bedchamber. It was morning and in your soul, you held a freshly steeled determination that was ready for the war to come. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET.

Atop the walls of the honorable Principality of Reinmar stood an auburn in the armor of an officer within the Host of Saint Johann, the wild, frigid winds of the North whipped at his tied-back hair and green cloak. “This injury the Darkness has caused upon these hallowed lands mustn’t be allowed to fester.” Klaus von Berkhoven said to himself, a spyglass held up to one of his ocean-hued eyes as it gazed over the land northwest to his home before lowering and retracting it into its compact form as he stuck it back into his bag. The Alchemist then lowered his head in thoughtful prayer. “GOTT, our VATER that dwells within the Highest Heaven…” The pious Berkhoven began. “Allow us the divine power that Dein Prophet, Exalted Owyn, wielded against Dein enemies in the days of yore. Let Dein white flame be wielded through Dein sons und daughters of Reinmar, the sons und daughters of Sankt Johann, so that we may purify these northern lands of The Deceiver’s corruption. Sankt Johann, pray for us, dein kinter, that we continue dein holy legacy.” He fervently prayed. “It es in His Holy und Precious Name that all GOTT’s children pray: AMEN!”

Within the shop of a Reinmaren, an auburn sat at his desk reading the call to arms of the trio of allied nations, his ocean-hued eyes surveyed the parchment. “We must heed the call to arms, the Darkness shan’t be allowed to lurk so close to home!” Klaus von Berkhoven thought aloud as a smile then etched itself on his face. “I must prepare potions for the Host!” The man exclaimed as he stood up from his chair and walked over to his chest of organized herbs, picking out the ones needed in a well-practiced motion. Next, the Alchemist stepped up to his worktable, pulling a mortar and pestle out of a drawer and a brewing stand from underneath the table. He would then grind up herbs as he had done for decades, the beginning of the alchemical process. “The Light will illuminate even the darkest crevice within the Ravenswood, that Ich can insure.” The Berkhoven hummed, a determined look in his eyes. ‘TICK, TICK, TICK!’ Sounded the clockwork gears of the wall-mounted clock as Klaus concocted his alchemicals. Only time will tell what those of the Ravenswood will experience once the combined forces of Reinmar, Celia’nor, and Koyo-Kuni arrive at their front door.

I am currently looking for a player for an Animii Automaton that I will be building soon as part of my Alchemist’s final lesson with his mentor. If you’re interested and/or would like more info, please DM me on Discord (Discord: .digit ).

Though it was a brief trip to the South, Klaus von Berkhoven would notice this missive upon the notice board within the Commerce City. Seeing the value that the information would have for his people that lived on the edge of Canondom, the Alchemist would take an empty sheet of parchment from his bag and transcribe the message. Putting the valuable, transcribed missive carefully into his bag, Klaus would pull a brass pocket-watch from an inner pocket of his coat to check the time before closing the lid and returning it there, then quickly journeyed back North without a moment’s thought as every second without this information could spell disaster.

The Alchemist, Klaus von Berkhoven, would read the oddly-placed letter that had found its way under the desk of his office on the second story of his shop, it would’ve been odd on how a random letter got in here if it wasn’t for the appearance of a gnarled, sickly-looking owl that was perched on the railing of the small balcony, if you can call it that, that looked out towards the main square of Reinmar. “This Lord Malik, a scholar it seems, has a condition sapping his memory away, this is nicht gute at all, Enigma!” The auburn proclaimed to the bright green parrot at the opposite corner of the room and sitting on top of the couch. “NICHT GUTE! NICHT GUTE, RAAAA!” The brightly-colored avian, Enigma, replied as he vigorously flapped his wings to hover over to Klaus, who had taken a few large alchemic tomes off the nearby bookshelf and sat at his desk, beginning his research to help the ailing Lord of Wisdom. The clock overhead sounded. TICK, TICK, TICK! Time wasn’t on The Greenhand’s side, so this Master of the Alchemical had to think quickly!

+10 for this, Greehn! As someone with an active Alchemy FA, I would 1000000% love to have this plugin on the server to make herbs runs easier for me and my friends when to coming to having a place to put the herbs we collect and better deal with inventory management. As for the tiers of Alchemy Bags, you can have a the base of the crafting recipes be leather and string. Depending on which tier of bag you decide to craft, you can increase the amount of leather and string and have a certain amount of metals or gems. Crafting Examples: Small Bag = 8 Leather, 4 String, 4 Iron Medium Bag = 16 Leather, 8 String, 8 Gold Large Bag = 24 Leather, 16 String, 4 Diamonds Depending on how Tech Team wants to balance the recipes, y’all can increase or decrease the amount of materials someone would have to grind to be able to make Alchemy Bags. In conclusion, I personally think this is an overall wonderful idea for a plug-in for one of the most popular FAs on the server.

One of the hosts of the festival, Bastian Jusmia, would prepare the outfit he'll be wearing and the prizes he just might give out. "Brimztra's gonna love this!" The 'ker hummed with excitement!

[!] This missive would find itself on the notice board within Kaethul and those abroad. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ [!] An artist's depiction of a busy beachside festival, a group of bards performing on the stage. BRIMZTRA’S FESTIVAL OF THE ARTS Arise craftsmen, artisans, and performers, for your time to shine is now! Within the ashen year, an art festival shall be hosted in the City-State of Kaethul in honor of Brimztra, the Spirit of Creativity, Music, and Art! Many stalls will be present for merchants to sell their wares along with a stage for performers to show their talents. For Bards, you may challenge the hosts to a bard-off for the potential to win a prize, try looking for us around the festival and present your challenge! This is one festival you WON’T want to miss! We hope to see you there! Bastian Jusmia With the Spirits' Grace, Minstrel of the Eastern Krasts Godwin Almiresson Poet of Portoregne

Within the United Domain of Vortice, Bastian Jusmia, the Dark Elf mentioned, would recall his experience in the Spirit Realm, in fact, it was his first time going there! The ‘ker would fantasize about the water-colored rose field he fell into, his experience in the painting, and the lone wish he had wanting a special someone to experience it with him, then receiving a missive from his companion on the spirit walk to Brimztra’s Realm, Godwin. “A festival would be amazing and we’ve already got a sponsorship?! What a great and joyful day for us all!” The Elven Bard spoke with glee as his flame-hued eyes scanned the missive in detail. “Guess I better get work on my offering for Brimztra!” Bastian thought to himself out loud as he barreled out his front door and made his way to collect all the materials he needed. A Champion of Brimztra would be on the rise!

Klaus von Berkhoven would receive the last three marching orders from a courier of the Grand Covenant, then reading the orders as he stood atop the walls of the Grand Principality of Minitz. “Dawn shall break once more, our dead finally able to rest.” The Alchemist spoke as he looked towards the afternoon sky. “Vater, Mutter, Lord GOTT continue watching over me. Continue to steel mein resolve against these heretics.” Klaus murmured to himself, his devotion to the cause of the Covenant burned brightly in his ocean-hued eyes as his gaze continued skyward.

I always welcome more aesthetic alchemy, the idea of this is awesome! +1

Klaus von Berkhoven would receive the missive penned by his former student and read it to himself, furious and disgusted at the display of banditry to a clinic. “The Church was always right about Paladins, they’re rotten to the core.” The Alchemist gritted his teeth as he opened a drawer and put the letter inside for safekeeping, then continuing his preparations to visit his niece in Hyspia. Within his home in Hohkmat, Asmund Vincent Fyr would obtain a copy of the missive. Though his face didn’t show anger, but sadness. “Elena… I thought Paladins protected people from bandits, not become bandits themselves. An’ ya stole from a clinic? What were ya thinkin’?” The Fyr murmured to himself. His stormy-hued eye then became emotionless, much like the silent peace before a storm. “You have a lot to explain.” Asmund spoke in a monotone voice, he would then begin preparing for the Paladin’s Apostasy Trial within Hohkmat.

A servant would hastily bring Lady Elaina’s uncle, Klaus von Berkhoven, this missive. ”GOTT bless mein family.” Klaus said with a cheerful smile upon reading it and signed the Lorraine across his chest. The Reinmaren Alchemist would then begin to make plans to go and see his grand-nieces and nephew.

The Duke’s youngest brother, Albrecht Barclay, would stand beside his sibling as they stood overlooking the capital of the Dual-Kingdom. He’d give his brother a smile and a pat on the back before slamming his fist into his chest. “WER RASTET, DER ROSTET!” Albrecht bellowed alongside the Duke. ( @Gandhi ) Within the chapel of Sankt Johannsburg, Klaus von Berkhoven would be deep in prayer. “Almighty GOTT, protect dein Reinmaren children as we take this next step towards the future. Saint Johann, be with dein people und dein kin as we take many steps into the unknown. Guide His Princely Grace und His Serene Highness as they lead our people into the future. It is in Dein name, Lord GOTT, that all is possible and it is in Dein name Ich say: AMEN.” With that, the Meyster Alchimist rose from his knees and went back to his home to prepare his family for the move to the Grand Principality of Minitz.