ivery

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A painting of a dark elf bard Dimensions: 1x1

I'm admittedly not the best at balancing spells, but a lot of criticism I'm noticing is a blanket critique on readability- so I'll mostly focus on that. Overall, amazing work you two!! - A lot of this lore is currently formatted with spoilered "mechanics" (Such as in the explanation for Sacred Aurum) Is there a reason these are not also listed as redlines, considering they seem to do a redline section's job? - Speaking of Sacred Aurum, this seems to be teetering on the edge of a unique material that could be submitted on its own, similar to Paladins' light stones. - For skimming, I would suggest that terms introduced during explanations (Such as Souls of Gravitas and similar in the first paragraph of Paths) be bolded or colored differently. - As of right now Sacred Aurum is a description of both the material itself and the focus/catalyst, and is also stuck formatting-wise right between a lot of other mechanics (Aurflame, Casting). It took me a second to realize that it was the focus because of that- it should have its own emphasizing section (Note that while other magics sometimes have it a bit hard to find too, such as Naztherak, the Grimoire is still listed under a section called "Infernal Tools"). - Can you explain the logic of a caster having Arclight while their Sacred Aurum (which from what I'm reading is the main focus/catalyst) can already be turned into a weapon? - While the average LOTCer will know what you're referring to when you call Aurflame like Malflame, it may be helpful to newer players reading through if you link the lore to Malflame or Pallo's Malflame guide in that section. - I would recommend, for a more seamless transition from mechanics to the prayer list, putting your "Paths" section as the last mechanic above "Tier 1 Prayers" - Every Prayer Tier section has a sort of table of contents right now, with a short list of spell names that are then elaborated on. Several other magics, for the sake of traversing the page easily, spoiler all beneath the table of contents. That way you can keep the frankly very cool formatting and images while also addressing the scrolling/internet issues some people have mentioned. A little image to explain what I mean: https://gyazo.com/5d7dcba6fa163997185906708beb89c2 Additionally, reading through some comments like Tav's about the slot drawback not being relevant- many magics have a mental or physical drawback, such as scars or mental instability. It could very well be in there and I missed it, but if not, what are your thoughts on adding something like that?

Phirion plucks at the strings of his lute, trying to recreate the genius tune. "He must be! At last, a worthy opponent," he declares, eyes bright with fresh inspiration. "By then, I will have a piece to match."

If pressed, Deia would not properly be able to describe how she met Sermi. In the quietest of days, she can picture a dream-like haze of smiles and mischief, of the boldest court bard Haense had seen and the most shameless of her works. The three of them, gathered around Queen Amaya as children flock to their mother for a story. And then Laelia was taken. And then they went to Hallowcliffe. And then Sermi pledged herself to her maddening quest, to break apart the chains that bound them and all who wielded them, and then she was discovered and broken and set into her arms to be healed and then and then and then- She does not like remembering that part. ("It has always been you," O'zen said, her voice empty but with weight.) Sermi had fallen to the hells, grown infernal horns and been stained the color of poisonous malflame. With slitted eyes filled with agony, she'd looked to Deia, and Deia had cupped her face and whispered, "It's okay." Because it was. Because nothing could take her away, not in Laelia's madness, or the court's cruelty, or the endless hunt that pursued them. As the bars of a gilded cage curled around her shoulders, Sermi was there, bracing open the door. (Maybe she was blocking it. Maybe she was part of it, the gleam of her horns matching the metal.) When she died, there was a hollow place in her chest, broken apart. She could not be gone, she could not be, her one anchor in this ever twisting world, her protector. Surrounded by disdain, she felt the weight of Sermi's rotting head in her hands and wept. Perhaps that's what made her reach out, to call for aid, for a god. It does not matter. O'zen was born, and her embrace was cold but it was there. ("You're missing ribs," Deia mumbled, sheepish, as O'zen stared down at the pieces she'd given her. Ribs, a liver, a heart. Some her own, lost to battle and refurbished, some made from flesh and gem alike. "I cannot stand it.") After such a long, long war, there is now such quiet. She has her daughter, and she has O'zen, and the window she looks out of. She does little but look out the window now, and wait. She is safe here, where O'zen will protect her. A flock of birds passed by, hours earlier, and she plans to tell her about them. ("..I am going to do something risky," O'zen says, toneless but tense. "My Lord will make war against the infernal, but he need not take on all of them. I will negotiate your safety, or.." She would not say it, but Deia thinks nothing of her doubt. She thinks of Sermi's silver tongue and is calm.) A messenger bird taps at the glass.

I've never been an NL and only spent a small amount of time, relatively speaking, in a nation's government. That being said, I witnessed several transitions of characters into becoming NL and they all suffered from the same sort of pressure, like a switch flipped the moment they became an NL. It's been described to me in a few different ways, all boiling down to a summary of "When you're the NL, you need to put the nation's prosperity over yourself/your enjoyment/quality of rp." Because of this, I've seen several NL-heir characters simply not roleplay their character until they inherit NL, practically barricade themselves within their palaces (including several instances of logging off when they see someone in the distance that they know is dangerous), and focus entirely on the management side of their role. Based on Squak's explanation here, and looking back at these personal memories with that in mind, a lot of that mindset shift from Normal Player to Nation Leader comes from pressure from the aforementioned "middle management" culture as well as something I didn't see mentioned - the pressure to matter, to do something important, and to not get killed or **** up before then. Paired with the expectation for NLs to PK on first death, in order to avoid that first death even the most well-meaning NLs have been encouraged to resort to dirty tactics. Metaplay is bad, but with the current culture it's not considered as bad as being remembered as "the one who was trusted with the nation and messed up." It's unfortunate to watch, because the NLs who do tend to be remembered best are the ones who put being a player first- whose roleplay actions are driven by their character's experiences and opinions, the ones who brave the town square even if some random person might run up and attack them, who let themselves play a character that has flaws and makes mistakes.

Eileen Rosalind Baruch waits by the window of her father's keep, the notice of her missing sister in her hands. As she watches the roads as though willpower alone will manifest news, she thinks of happier times- of laughter in these quiet halls. Petyr's boasting and Maiteas' jabs, Maira squabbling back and forth with their father over dinner until their mother calmed the both of them, Malcolm quietly sneaking treats to their hounds. Then Maiteas left, and Petyr drowned, their mother got sick and their father wasted away. Maira must return, she decides- prays. Their house was not cursed, as the rumors say. It cannot be.

Across a quiet clearing, a pale figure hums a long-lost tune. Unlike her companion, she is constantly in motion. "Around and around and around.." she mumbles to herself, fond, and coaxes a flower into tipping towards the warm sun. A dozen more around her are already thriving, as they always have and as they always will be. They, like her, are unchanging. "Your eyes are opening, that's all."

Deia stares at the missive for an indeterminable amount of time, eyes wide as saucers. Somewhere by the third or fourth minute, she presses a palm over her giddy smile, and then- like a dam has broken- she lets out a cheer of pure delight. "Varon! Oh, what a precious name." The letter is very carefully folded up and taken home, a keepsake for decades to come.

A Revival of the Noble’s Assembly KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the GRAND LADY On this 3rd day of Joma ag Umund of 539 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ELDERVIK, IN GENERATIONS NOW PASSED, the nobility of our kingdom have been called in regularity to Kastell Lesanov and its predecessors. In the wake of the tragic death of the late King Ivan VIII and Queen Nataliya I, the revival of this practice has been deemed key to the seamless transition into the reign of King Marius III and his Consort, Juliya of Reinmar, and the Aulic Council has thusly arranged it. The expectations for and requirements of Herzenvrest are as follows: o NOBLE PEERAGE The gathering of Herzenvrest is traditionally meant for nobility, royalty, and the Aulic Council only. Nobility may bring one servant with them, expected to assist the Kastell staff in catering, but any other hopeful guests will be turned away at the Kastell gates. o ANNOUNCEMENTS FROM HIS AND HER MAJESTY Following the coronation, King Marius III and Queen-Consort Juliya of Reinmar will introduce themselves personally to their court and sworn nobility, unveiling future plans and important announcements for the realm going forward. Nobility will also have the opportunity to converse in return, express concerns and make requests. o RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF COURT AND WARDSHIP Queen-Consort Juliya of Reinmar and the Grand Lady will unveil the new structure of the Queen’s inner court, its titles and expectations as well as offer introduction of those chosen to the kingdom’s nobility. Following their initial choices, nobility may offer themselves or their children for any positions left vacant. Additionally, wardship under the Crown will face a restructuring that, after being outlined for nobility, will be open for the children of nobility brought forward. o COURTLY ENTERTAINMENT Throughout the festivities, Kastell Lesanov’s servantry will be present to provide food, drink, and courtly entertainment to all those who attend. To be hosted in the month of Gronna ag Droba. Saturday, the 3rd of August, 3pm EST Kastell Lesanov’s Upper Courtyard GODANI JEST WIELKI, HER EXCELLENCY, Deia of High Rock Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska HER LADYSHIP, Svetlana Ruthern-Colborn Deputy Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska Royal Mistress of the Wardrobe

She had been so angry. What right had he had to steal someone so precious from her, drunk on whim and pressure? He who she had trusted, despite all instinct. She had looked at him and known immediately to be a threat, a wildcard of determination and the sharpest wit. A man who preached mercy she no longer believes in, cannot believe in. Knelt before her goddaughter's memorial, eyes stinging from tears, it had never felt so wrong to be right. Weeks later, Deia carefully unfolds the letter, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Anger curled in her gut unfurls into numb dread. She hates him, she hates him, she hates him- but what if he hated her just as much? She finds a drawing. ("You do!" he exclaimed, clutching his gut with laughter. Seeing her expression, pinched, he pats her shoulder. "Oh, come on, I'm only- I'm only horsing around- Bahaha!" "..You're ridiculous," she mutters, ducking her head to hide her smile. Laughter bubbles up to match his, but she swallows it back. She won't give him the satisfaction. Not when she already looks at him and thinks 'One day, I'd like to tell him everything.') The parchment crinkles in her hands, warping the drawing. A weak chuckle is wrenched from her throat, then more, until she is doubled over laughing. She laughs and laughs and laughs until her knees buckle and she begins to wail.

In honor of its people, The Charity Ball of 538 E.S. KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the GRAND LADY On this 9th day of Wzuvar ag Byvca of 537 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ELDERVIK, IN THIS MELANCHOLY ERA, as all those previous, we must remember that which is most important to us: the legacy we will leave behind for those who follow. In that vein, it is our duty to ensure that the foundation is there for them to thrive. It is with this responsibility in mind that we announce the opening of New Valdev’s orphanage, to house the children previously left alone and lost amidst their parents’ conflicts. No longer. They shall be raised with all reasonable necessities in a home named for the legacy of two orphans now lost to us: Seraph Morozov-Tabbris and his daughter, Amari. Through their miraculous determination, they paved their own ways in the world, and in their name new generations shall do the same at Morozov-Tabbris’ Haven for the Lost. At the year’s dusk, in their honor, a ball will be held in the Kastell Lesanov’s ballroom, where a series of items will be auctioned for the funding of luxuries for the Haven’s orphans. Any and all proceeds offered from the kind souls of the realm will go towards their quality of life. Guests, either of the nobility or the common class, are welcome to provide donations separate from the auction and will be provided with entertainment and refreshments. [The event will begin at 4PM EST on Friday, July 12th at Haense’s palace ballroom.] GODANI JEST WIELKI, HER EXCELLENCY, the Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska Deia of High Rock

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Ingrid of Ulgaard Dimensions: 2x2

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Eleanor of Lotharigiya Dimensions: 2x2

This might be a bit more complicated, but things like putting out a campfire with a shovel or making a path cost mina currently. Considering you're already paying for the block itself (at least in the campfire's case) that feels like something that should be free.

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Katherina of Karnatiya Dimensions: 2x2

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Elizaveta of Kuriland Dimensions: 1 wide, 2 high

Deep within the Kastel's halls, where few ladies and fewer royals dare step, Deia sits at a small table and stares at the parchment in front of her. It is quiet and cold, and there are many who share the bunks with her now, but she remembers a time when it was just her. When the butlers had moved out and her little sister - her sweet sister, cursed and lost- was exiled, the halls were her own, as large a space as she'd ever had for herself. The fire stayed dim, the chairs stayed rickety, and the blankets stayed thin. She ate alone. And then there came a boy. "She doesn't want to look at me," he mumbled churlishly, glaring at the floor. "I'm to live here now." (She remembers him before then, of course. Everyone knew of the king's- the Crown Prince's - bastard, of his shame, and kept their distance from the wailing in the nursery lest they earn his wife's ire. She remembers Amaya sneaking in to feed him and lingering by the door, too wary to follow.) "..Well, you can't stay in that room all by yourself," she'd said. "You'll stay with me." So she taught him to wash his clothes in the tub instead of calling for a maid, set out a second plate at mealtimes with pieces cut smaller than her own. When he spoke of missing windows, she spent her pay on paints for the ceiling- a night sky and its many stars- and when his hair grew over his eyes, she cut it evenly and ushered him off to play with the toys she'd found second-hand. Little by little, his scowls softened into smiles, and she remembered how to be a mother again. The shouting from the Aulic Chamber echoes in her ears now, where he's grown so much taller, and she mulls over what to write. What would teach the right lesson. What would keep him safe. What would help, when a servant is helpless to royalty. Come home when you're ready, she writes. Be safe.

From what I understand, acquiring plate armor is as simple as having a skin that has plate armor on it, and full sets are the most common/accessible types of those skins. Because of that accessibility, they've become the default for individual players and nations. Having more weaknesses suited to a "default" would definitely help.

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Adelajda of Metterden Dimensions: 2x2

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Reza of Turov Dimensions: 2x2

MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: Portrait painting Dimensions: 1 wide, 2 high

There is shouting in the dungeon. Deia stands by the door, amidst the blood and muck, and watches as it stains her shoes, stains her. The breeze brushes past to the cells and back out against her spine and she’s so very cold. Everything is cold without the Queen. In the shadow of her death, they call her the White Flame. They call her venerated and a Queen of the people (what is left of the people) and they speak of her kindness, her generosity, her love, as a mistake to learn from. Red pools at her feet like water and she feels the brush of fingertips against her ankle, the first of a trail of corpses that will lead her to her sister. She doesn’t have to look to know their wounds, nor that they will ever flow, an endless fountain from a slit throat, a pierced heart, a skewered eye. She doesn’t have to look to know there are dozens. For her. For them. For love. The gruesome sound of a glaive against flesh makes her open her eyes. When she turns towards the wail that follows, the dungeon door is stainless, there is no weight in her hands, and Amaya is still dead. Look, a voice demands, at what she has wrought.

Though good sense keeps her from reading it at length where it hangs, Deia need only read one line to feel compelled to free the missive and fold it carefully into halves. Wherever she carries on from there, it burns in her pocket like smoldering coal.

It happened so fast. Within moments of the shadows crawling across the peaceful flower field, a heavy blow to the head sent Deia sprawling. Only when the fighting ended, white petals torn and sprayed by blood, did her eyes open to scan the blurry landscape. She saw Leonid, shredded by claws, and Villorik, piercing the back of some demonic creature with vicious intent- but where, where... She saw Amaya, peacefully laying in a pool of her own blood. Her world shattered to pieces. Villorik was saying something ("Don't deny her death, she died in glory-") over Leonid's bellowing ("- slay you one day, I swear it!-") She was saying something. (A constant chant, "No no no no no-") Without thought, a gap of memory, she has Amaya in her arms. She presses her hands to the wound fruitlessly ("Perhaps we can- we can still save her-" "Stop, just stop-") and then, when it finally dawns on her, as she feels the warmth of a hand on her shoulder for the last time, she holds her Queen's body to her chest and wails. The miraculous may follow, and a crowd along with it, but she holds her all the same. An army could not part them.

Within the darkened chambers of the Queen, Deia remains steadily at her bedside, fetching whatever she might need and welcoming in visitors at the door with a stern warning to be quiet and gentle. In the moments between visits, where it is only Queen and loyal handmaiden, she whispers with her back and forth of kinder times - of painting together and her favorite cocoa recipe, of her precious gemstones that she's bid to bring to promote a clear mind and healthy body. In the bravest of moments, they speak of a future to look forward to- one of travel, of fresh air, as soon as she recovers. It is only when she has coaxed Amaya to a fitful sleep that she buries her head in her hands and prays for her words to be truth.