VoidDimensions

As Angruth rested beneath the crimson canopy, he leaned against Artio as he had done countless times before. The old bear’s graying fur brushed against his armor, a quiet reminder of passing years. He glanced down at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Artio… I remember when you were just a scraggly little cub,” he murmured. “Barely big enough to stand. I had to feed you milk.” A low chuckle left him as he shook his head. “You’ve carried me far longer than I ever carried you.” Artio let out a slow, tired yawn, settling into the earth as sleep took him. Angruth rested a hand on his fur, soon drifting off beside him. ———————————————————— A roar split the forest. Angruth bolted awake. It was not the cry of any natural beast; it was something deeper. Wrong. He surged to his feet, snatching his axe and stepping out from the tent, scanning the crimson woods. The air felt heavy. Suffocating. A wail. From behind him. His heart dropped. Angruth turned, rushing back inside. There, before him, Artio writhed, flesh clumps of fur slowly falling off his body, turning to dust, and soon flesh and muscle followed suit. “No… no…” Angruth fell to a knee beside him, gripping what little of his fur remained. He knew. The hunt for the great Bear-mani. And Artio was being taken with it. The knight clenched his jaw, breath shaking. There was no saving him. No cure to be had. Only mercy. “I won’t let you suffer.” With one swift, practiced motion. The axe fell. Cleaving Artio’s head off Ending pained wails Angruth remained there, crouched beside the body of his oldest companion. His grip tightened as a single tear carved its way down his cheek. Slowly… the withering continued. Flesh faded. Bone remained. When all that was left was a skull, Angruth reached forward and took it in his hands. He stared at it for a long moment. Then, without a word He placed it upon his head. Rising to his feet, the knight stood alone beneath the crimson trees. His voice was quiet as he said “You carried me long enough…”

Angruth saw the missive, and a great smile crossed his face "Good, the war amongst men has been boring. I am ready to finally purge the dark." Vanguard Username: VoidDimension Character Name: Angruth Affiliation: Idunia Desired Rank [Vanguard or reserves (depends on when the events will be on) Which games will you be attending?: [ For those wishing to aspire for Honour Guard must specify the Honour Trials. And for those who cannot make it, please specify 'unavailable'. ] unavailable

I traveled into the lands that are to be granted unto me: the Crimsforest, a cold place shrouded in dread. There stood statues of carved faces, their eyes weeping frozen tears of blood. The trees were tinted in blood red leaves, and a river lay locked beneath ice, which I crossed in silence. Beyond it rose a hill bathed in pale moonlight, and there I made my rest. I raised only a small tent and a fire, listening to the chirping of birds and the rustling of the wind. As I sat beside the flame, I was reminded of my own path of Owyn. I recalled the night spent by the flamewell, enduring discomfort so that I might better understand the suffering Owyn bore while he served Harren, who killed his father. Yet here, in this forsaken land, the flame did not bring hardship. It brought comfort. And in that moment, I came to an understanding. The fire commanded by Owyn was a flame of purity and zeal, meant to burn away those who stood opposed to the Light of Aerader. It was a weapon, wielded without hesitation against corruption and defiance. Yet the fire beside which I rested was not wrathful. It was warm, steady, and sustaining, Akin to how Owyn felt when he first held the flaming blade. “Owyn took up the sword and was consumed with warmth”. Book of Owyn p:29 Owyn came before Aerader, a broken man, scarred by betrayal and loss. Through his service and through the blade entrusted to him, Aerader not only granted him purpose, but he granted him warmth. Thus, it is revealed that Aerader’s Holy Flame is not solely a force of destruction, but also one of mercy and a blessing to those who accept it. To the faithful, the flame gives warmth, guidance, and purpose. To those who deny Aerader as the One True Creator, it reveals its other nature: wrath, judgment, and consuming fire. The Holy Fire of Aerader offers a choice. It may be wielded to warm the faithful and strengthen them in righteousness, and to defend them from those who seek to destroy, Yet those who reject Aerader and His mercy shall not escape the flame, for they too shall feel its burn, not as comfort, but as judgment. Yet Aerader is not cruel in His offering, nor is His Flame given without mercy. Even now, the fire yet burns low and steady, awaiting those who would draw near. No soul is cast into the blaze without first being offered its loving warmth. As Owyn himself was forgiven by the holy flame rather than consumed by it, so too could any who turn toward the Light be strengthened and renewed by it. Thus, the holy flame is not only a righteous wrath, but a guiding light to the faithful, a beacon to follow so that you may stay on the pious path to serve the lord Aerader better and live a fuller life than one cast in shadows. I do not know if this shall mean much to any others who read this, but I shall always praise the lord when I rest by the fire, knowing that if I keep living a virtuous life in his name, that I will never be alone in darkness as Aerader’s light shall be beside me. [BORING OOC note]

wish it was real

Ser Angruth was so happy that he was invited to the wedding If he had clogs, he would tap them in happiness

To the Faithful warrior without a place to call home I, Angrûth, priest-knight of Idunia, write to call forth a holy warband to gather beneath my banner, that we may take up a just crusade against the pagan uruks and dwarfs, whose false and profane ways stand as a threat to the dominion of mankind. I possess no worldly coin to grant at present, for the lands promised to me by Tar-Zôrzagar and his sons shall only be bestowed once the war is concluded. Yet all who answer this call shall be armed in the finest steel I am able to provide, each piece duly sanctified and blessed for righteous war. Those who serve with diligence, obedience, and proven faith shall be taken into my guard as squires, to stand beside me in war and, in time, to serve and defend the lands granted through victory. May the faithful take heed, OOC

Angruth noticed the lack of the guard, Bronadron not being around, his shop vacant, and the walls around Tir-glas being less jolly He knelt, praying that the Omen that once served under him would not fall to darkness and would be well on his travels

Angrûth, after the battle, still covered in the blood of his foes. The priest-knight fell to a single knee and prayed for his friends and family that he had fought alongside, yet he also prayed that the dwarves would realize their folly and allow peace talks to unfold.

I WANT BOTH BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! on a serious note, I fully agree buckler was great for balance, the longbow is strong, it should be you get weakness for it but the buckler ALLOWED you to PUSH while they had the weakness, normal shields DO NOT ALLOW any sort of push, they slow you down also why did the staff remove /pvp, it was great for hosting team fights and /beta is a mess and pretty sucky terrain for team fight training

NAME: Angruth Glennmaer VOCATION: Parish Priest TRIBE / CULTURE: Highlander adunian BIRTH YEAR: 232 ORDINATION DATE: 258 ORDINATOR: Iudas CURRENT DIOCESE: Magistracy of Artifai ASSIGNMENT: Parish priest to Alduun and Kazan WRITTEN WORKS: all made in scrolls (I rarely use the forums, I like my thesis to be in GAME) OOC: USERNAME: XdpwVoid or VoidDimensions when I change it back DISCORD: Hunterzhunter

"Glory to Idunia!" The Lord Angrûth of Tir-glas shouted from within Alduun's tavern as he had a drink of ale

I am not considered a PVPER of any sort, but I have asked for 1v1 PVP if I think it would be quicker or more fun than 3-hour crp slop, But I think 1.9 would be better for this server, as I don't think its that much more of challenege to learn or use, I would even say its easier as you don't need to know any clicking style or being limited by your tech, its fully even on both sides besides knowledge of how the 1.9 pvp works, I generally dislike 1.9 pvp on other servers due to Potions, golden apples, god apples, enchantments but since that is already banned on this server, I think it would more fun and feel more like a game instead of clickfest

Bloodied and beaten, the Glennmaer studied the missive, a low, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “He cannot even put my correct name on the page,” he muttered dryly. “And yet it took five men to bring me down.”

Lord Llyw Glennmaer was doing his squire tasks within Formindon. As he came across the missive and read it with a smirk. Once he read the end, he burst into laughter, uttering then; "Throw your men onto our walls and die a pitiful death."

🚨 ORE HEADS WANTED! 🚨 Got rocks? WE WANT 'EM! 💥 BUYING STARSTEEL! 💥 BUYING THANIUM! 💥 BUYING WHATEVER-SHINY-THING-YOU-DUG-UP! We’re tossing BIG MINA for BIG ORE! Shovel it in, dump it out, GET PAID. 💰 SELL SELL SELL — RIGHT NOW, MINER MAN! 💰 Your pockets? Empty. Our pockets? Full. Let’s fix that. 🪨💸

Give me old wow trailer flash backs 👍

✠ - Rider: Llew Glennmaer ✠ - Champion: Ceffyl Dŵr ✠ - Realm: Númendil ✠ - Liege or Lord: Lord-Paramount Llewyn Glennmaer of Garenbrig

THIS IS JUST A RETELLING OF EVENTS. DO NOT METAGAME GRUMBLE GRUMBLE Rúnagleth returned home triumphant, her armor still covered with the dust of the ruins of the fortress she had just come from. She had led not only Templars but druids into the very maw of the dark—a corrupted stronghold of undeath and emerged victorious. At her side had marched faith and nature alike. Before Prince Argelion and Princess Eriential, she delivered the tale with pride, recounting how she had shattered the phylactery that anchored one of the Undead to this world. Yet, as she spoke, the Prince narrowed his eyes and asked the one question she had not prepared for: “Did you recover the Dust of it?” A grim silence answered him. Without hesitation, Rúnagleth turned on her heel and shouted for Ser Arthur. The task was not done. Together, they rode hard through the moonlit woods, the wind screaming past them. When they arrived, the stronghold stood hollow and quiet. as the druids had done their work cleansing the pit, Nothing stirred. But silence lies. As Rúnagleth and Arthur lockpicked their way through a sealed chamber, a chill swept in, then footsteps. A necromancer emerged from the shadows, his eyes burning like sickly lanterns. At his sides loomed two summoned beasts: a hulking olog-golem and a towering undead knight, bloated and mutated beyond recognition. They reacted fast. Arthur charged the golem, his Boomsteel bashing into the creature’s knee as bone cracked and muscle tore. Rúnagleth swept in with a battle cry, her blade singing as it severed the beast’s head from its shoulders. The olog fell with a thunderous crash. But there was no time to celebrate. The undead knight lumbered forward, bloated and leaking with foul blood. Rúnagleth had seconds. With a roar, she slammed her shield into its chest—only to be engulfed in a horrific explosion of bile. Thrown to the ground, pain wracking her body, she felt her strength drain like water from a cracked vessel. Her vision blurred. Her last glimpse was Ser Arthur taking aim with a javelin,. She awoke to chaos. Flames crackled nearby. The necromancer loomed over her, victorious. Rúnagleth reached out, bloodied fingers grasping his leg, defiance still burning in her soul. Arthur’s javelin flew—but missed by a hair’s breadth as the necromancer twisted and leapt onto her chest, snarling like a beast. Without honor, without hesitation, he drove his foot into her skull. Stars exploded in her vision. But the Templar was not done. Calling out with her last breath, her righteous weapon answered, flying into her hand like a shard of divine judgment. It struck true, piercing the necromancer’s leg. He howled, stumbling—but not falling. Blinding light erupted from the dark sorcerer’s palm, flooding Ser Arthur with dread. Fear overtook him. He could not move, could not breathe. And then the final blow came. With a grunt, the Necromancer raised its mace and brought it down onto Rúnagleth’s head. The world cracked. The light faded. She was gone. It was not the glorious end the Templar had envisioned, not on a battlefield surrounded by banners, nor at the head of a charge. It was Grim. Sudden. Brutal and Real For Lord Glyndwr For Vandrake Vourkehardt For Boromir For Lady Safiyaa For ARGELION For Kieran For Elise For Raug For Lord Llewyn For Mother-tar Caraneth

Rúnagleth received the news in the bustling streets of Númendil, as her squire delivered the words that struck like thunder. Upon hearing of the death, the Orcess let out a guttural roar and drove her fist into the nearest wall, shattering both her gauntlet and the hand beneath. Stone cracked. Blood ran. The tale of Baldric Vourkehardt’s fall spilled from the squire’s lips, each word cutting deeper than the last. Baldric. The steadfast. The dark horse. The friend. Without a word, Rúnagleth turned and made her way home, her heavy steps echoing with grief. There, upon her doorstep, lay a letter. the weight of it was unmistakable. She carried it to her office, alone, and sat beneath the dim glow of the lanterns. As her eyes found the name penned at the top, sorrow surged. Her lips trembled. She read it once. Then again, and again. Each line branded itself onto her heart. Finally, with a strangled breath, she laid the letter down. Silence hung thick. Then orcish rage. She raised her fists and brought them down upon the wooden table with fury, splitting it clean in two. The wreckage scattered, but she didn’t linger. With bloodied knuckles and a hollow heart, she called for a servant to tend to the mess. And then she left, not for rage, but for peace, walking to the church. There, beneath high ceilings and whispering flame, she knelt and prayed. For the Vourkehardt family and Baldric Vourkehardt, that he might reap the highest reward the Seven Skies could offer.

Rúnagleth was out in the woods searching for some beast or darkspawn to hunt a swift breeze came through as she stood still feeling the air, before the missive slap into her face, she read it over and a big smile spread across her face 'Peace with our friends oncemore, Thank GOD" she praised him before her smile faded and she sign the lorraine "kneeling in forest floor praying for GOD to grant mercy to all those petrans that had fallen in the war "Do not punish the sheep the wandered out of the pen" she pleaded with GOD almighty before going back to her hunt

Name: Runagleth Nationality: NUMENDIL Joust or Mach: Both Do you love chivalry? Yes!!!!!

Runagleth read the missive many times trying to understand HOW what she was reading was true. after some long hours of just staring at the paper. Once the orcess overcame her grief, she stood up and went to warm up an icy cold chocolate chip cookie and leaving it at Faeleth's manor doorstep

IGN: VoidDimension CHARACTER NAME: Runagleth DO YOU HAVE A HORSE & LANCE: Yep

| Joust Participation | Name: Runagleth Nationality: Garenbrig Do you possess a horse? - (Yes/No) Yes [IGN: (VoidDimension)] | Melee Participation | Name: Runagleth Nationality: Garenbrig [IGN: (Insert)] VoidDimension

[!] A Poster is pinned to every noticeboard throughout the lands [!] at the bottom of the paper its says There will be joust for 100 mina prize at numendil and a grand feast with games hosted by the awesome Ceru'wyn