Ninjay

The vagrant Jay Amaranth returned to the site, some time after retreating from the explosion and treating the wounds he'd accrued. In years past he'd happily assisted in terrorizing the Xionists, necromancers, and other ne'er-do-wells within, but looking upon the flaming crater where it once stood felt bittersweet. On one hand, had was happy to see the place destroyed, and its residents scattered to the wind, even if only temporarily. He still recalled all the trouble they had raised over the years: kidnapping friends of his, attacking people, and what not. On the other, though, he was quite disappointed that he had never managed to steal anything of great value from the place before it was obliterated. Seems the kleptomania would have to wait to be sated. Above all, though, he wished his friend Conan would quit his silly trips and come back on at least some occasions, that they may go cause problems for others as they once did to Lumbridge.

No need to be overly unkind; even if he has made mistakes, Larry is still a good soul in the eyes of myself and many others.

"Arthur, the Legendary Merchant of Grense, has returned from his journey to get milk and cigarettes!" Exclaimed one Jay Amaranth. "I cannot wait to watch as he surely makes a fortune using his famed knowledge of commerce!"

No words came. None would have done justice. All that came was a cry, anguished and mournful, which rose from the earth to the heavens above. A few different choices, some greater wisdom on his own part, and it could have been avoided. Some different outcome, better than this. Anything would be better than this. But this was what had happened. And so, Jay Amaranth persisted. Reconciling that which he saw in himself for his part in such an ending, against the merciful compassion which that beloved woman had gifted unto him. He was wicked; he was forgiven. He was loathsome; . . . He was loved.

Someone tell Malta how to get to Oren please he's been looking for years

… two guys on a carpet? In the mid southeast, there sits a foul ruin nestled into the cliff side, known as Hallowcliffe. And in the cliffs above it, sits a cave. It was towards this cave that two travelers made their way. “It’s up here, in this cave.” “What did you say this was again?” “A massive anvil. Almost comical in size, really.” “And how are we going to move it? “A friend lent me this… thing to help us.” “Wouldn’t it be easier to just grab some big boulder instead?” “... stop asking questions, Dragomir.” There, they came upon the entrance, a lone door amidst a wall of stone. The older of the two, a peculiar blond man, had barely started fiddling at the lock, before the younger, a Norn lad of reddish hair, had taken a far more direct - and loud - approach. With a couple of thunderous smashes that echoed through the valley below, that rock wall soon crumbled down to the ground, and the duo found themselves standing before that massive anvil. Unknown to both of them it was actually a relic from another time; a ‘Great Anvil’, taken from the Underdark. They both stared at it for a time, before the older one unfurled a gift on loan from a friend; a peculiar carpet, that seemed to have some life of its own. At his urging, the carpet expanded some, and forcibly slid itself under the monstrosity of a smithing mainstay - though not without the embroidered owl upon it making some rude gestures to the fellow who had carried it there. With what seemed like great effort, that carpet came to lift it off the cave floor. With haste - and much to the annoyance of the carpet at the additional weight - the duo clambered up on top of it. “Now, take us back!” And thus did it start to fly - and use the anvil atop it to smash another hole in the mountainside. When they had reached the outside again, and cleared the debris from themselves, the two found themselves beginning to ascend and soar through the air. They both sat and laughed some, a mix of adrenaline and humor at their success, and the quite novel sensation of flight. Things had gone unbelievably smooth. At least, so it had seemed. That one who had lent that flying carpet had forgotten to mention something about it - a peculiar trait, so to speak. Perhaps, they should have had some inkling about its nature from all the explicit gestures it made at the blond one carrying it. Similarly, they probably should have taken a clue when they found themselves coming to a stop near the town square of Numenost, being gawked at by a handful of tavern goers and other citizens. “...Dragomir?” “Yes Jay?” “I think we took a wrong turn somewhere...” Whereas this may have started to clue them in - arriving in a city in the near opposite direction of where they were supposed to go - they really started to understand when it started flying at much faster speeds. As in, they were both left clutching at the edges of the anvil to ensure they were not blown off. “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD I CAN’T CONTROL IT” And then, the birds. Oh, the birds. Still at that obscenely high speed, it had pivoted with an unexpected maneuverability into a massive flock of them. And somehow, it had the precision to make tiny adjustments amidst its flight to ensure the blond fellow was bound to collide with as many of them as possible. When they, now coated in bird viscera, had cleared through the flock, they left behind them a cloud of feathers and red mist. They then found themselves, still mentally recovering from the experience thus far, hovering above New Valdev. Once more, did they find themselves being stared at from all those below. While the younger of the two took the chance to have a brief conversation with a friend of his beneath them, the older spent that time tugging at the carpet and quietly begging it to listen. Eventually, the carpet acquiesced, and whizzed off through the air once more, for the final time, and brought them safely to their intended destination. Though perhaps not without a few loops and spins along the way. The two passengers did eventually step down and touch land once again; they were relatively unharmed physically. It was the mental wounds, however, would surely last for some time. “... Dragomir.” “Yes Jay?” “... you might’ve been on to something with the boulder.” “Wouldn’t we have had to fly that too though?” “We could’ve just rolled it instead.”

"VILLORIK! VILLLORRRRIK!!!" A man, perhaps a touch mad, screamed through the streets of Kretzen. "TAKE MY ENERGY, VILLORIK! ASK IT, AND MY MACE IS YOURS!"

Once again, and far too soon, did Jay find himself seated above the streets and staring off at nothing in particular. Once again, did he try and lighten his own mood. Five bottles? Ha! I barely drink in the first place. . . . A useless distraction, short lived at best. Another, among all those whom he recalled being there those many decades ago when he had first arrived, had departed. The man had known of at least some of the troubles endured by Frederica, perhaps more than most. Likely more than he should have known, in truth. And with such knowledge in mind, he always had possessed some respect for her and how she carried herself, in spite of it all. I wish I could have helped you more, Frederica. I hope the little I did was enough to make life better, in some way. After reading and tucking away that last letter given unto him, some final things came. First, some waves of doubt, followed by resignation, then concluded with resolve. This was accompanied by a wry smile, as he looked over at the palace across the city. If he ever comes back, he'll be dealt with. I promise. He did not recall if he had sworn such to her when she had made such a request in person. But, he swore it now.

Boy oh boy if only I knew of a camp filled with men-loving individuals @M1919@wolfdwg@FoogThe2stnd@olpx

Somewhere on the roofs of Kretzen, Jay sat on a ledge, legs dangling while his head hung and eyes stared below. A few minutes earlier, slightly different timing, I could have. . . He shook his head some, forcing such thoughts away. He sat there with a silent mind for some time, until some different ones came about. Seems I can ask no more favors nor make more wagers with you, my friend. I hope, in some way, you are proud of how it went. You rid us of a deathly threat. . . . And here I thought I might go first! Ha! . . . As he smiled ever so slightly, some drops of rain fell onto the streets below. But when he looked up, he saw no clouds.

Taxation Revisions of The Holy Regency Penned 21st of the Grand Harvest, Year 2003 Following the conclusion of the Robertine Crusade, the Mother Church has deemed it necessary to reassess the taxation of the holy vassalage. Such money is to henceforth be used to upkeep holy monuments and structures within the newly acquired eastern lands. In accordance with such, the following laws are to be set in place regarding the taxation of those landed by the Holy See: Vassals of The Holy See are responsible for paying at the very minimum the maintenance cost of their own lands. Higher taxation may be imposed for varying reasons as seen fit by the Holy See. Landed entities which fall into a debt sum greater than five hundred mina will have either two years to fulfill their debt, or will face being unlanded. As of year 2004, the taxation rates of vassals are to be as follow: The Lands of Merryweather are expected to pay 250 Mina annually, and are presently 250 Mina in debt. @cherrybud The Lands of Enswerp are expected to pay 200 Mina annually. @annanicole__ The lands of Brienne are expected to pay 200 mina annually. @JadeStryuu The lands of Halcourt are expected to pay 200 mina annually. @Chorale__ The lands of Falkner are expected to pay 200 mina annually. @Frank_Dog The lands of Wick are expected to pay 200 mina annually. @gavyn The lands of Ivori are expected to pay 200 mina annually. @HeyitsNano Signed in the name of his Holiness: Priest and Bookkeeper Regent of Grense, Taxation Manager

As he stared at the path - the beginning of that trek up to the snowy peak above, beginning in that frozen, ruined fort - an unfamiliar thought was on Jay’s mind. Worth. Was he worthy? It was never something he had wondered before. No one whom he had ever endeavored to speak with had made him think such. It mattered little to him what they were. Rulers or nobles of some realm. Famed individuals. Draconic cultists and philosophers. Even an arch lich on one occasion, though he had not known it. Little had ever stopped him from approaching and trying to speak. And so far, he had tended to be successful. Most were willing to speak with him, of ignorance and low birth, without much question or issue. Perhaps it was just luck, and if he traveled about more he would encounter those less reciprocal to friendliness from a wanderer such as himself. But he was certain that, until now, the rank or position or notoriety of those he approached had never dissuaded him. They were (mostly) mortal souls such as himself. Capable of feeling, bleeding, and existing in much the same manner as he did. With this in mind, what question of worth was there to have? Was he not an equal to them all on the grand cosmic scale? As he found himself ascending further into the snow-coated mountain range, the wind began to truly chill, and clouds obscured the view of the lands below. He was thankful for the cloak he bore, doubly so for the magic imbued within it that kept him warmed in such an environment. But this? Him? It felt different. The mortality of this one, this being, was of doubt. Mortals did not fly, did not manifest, did not bend reality to such an extent. There were some who came close, but none he had seen did so with as much grandeur. As much purpose. As much divinity. A conversation with a dragonkin echoed in his head, perhaps paraphrased, but the information imparted was still clear. Physical manifestations of concepts. Courage, Fate, Justice, Ruin, Order. . . - A list of concepts, which could surely stretch on - Made flesh. Given form, consciousness, agency. Would approaching such be the same as speaking to another person? Surely not. But the champion of Order had been struck down. By another being of similar stature and capabilities, of course, but struck down nonetheless. And despite this, order remained, and anarchy did not rule the day. The concept persisted, while the life which represented it concluded, despite its supposed immortality. Maybe they are not as far off from us as I think them to be? Some other bits of that conversation came to mind as well, along with some other experiences, but the questions stemming from such were part of what spurred him to take this journey in the first place. His hike came to a halt far up into the snow and rock. Before him sat the remnants of a bridge that once stretched over some deep chasm. On either side, all that remained was some debris strewn about or logged in the crags of the cliff side that dropped into the abyss below. Though annoying, it was of scarce consequence. He had scaled much before, from other mountains to palace walls. This would not be something to stop him now. That said, he still cursed under his breath at the inconvenience. Amidst his perilous descent from the one side and ascension of the other, his thoughts resumed. Now, he started listing off those he knew of whom that being of interest consorted with or visited with some degree of frequency. The noble youth, grappling with the wrongs, whims, and sins of their family. The mighty Thegn, of equal renown and infamy across the land. The faithful flocks of Numendil. A handful of devout and faithful Canonists, seeking to follow the will of God. Do they have something I do not? Does something make them worthy, which I lack? To himself, he lacked much of that possessed by those he thought of. No noble lineage. Some reputation, though it paled in comparison to most notables. Faith? . . . Again some, though nothing as devout as many others. But, he decided, it mattered not. To turn back now would be a waste of the journey. He finished the scramble up the cliff side, and now found himself on the final stretch of the path upwards. He was above the clouds now; thin and bitterly cold air bit at both his skin and lungs. It bore no importance nor achieved any dissuasion. He pressed onward, continuing past the long-frozen remnants of others who had traversed up the mountain before him. Thoughts went quiet as the peak neared. Try as he might, he could not reach it - a frigid chill seeped through the many layers he wore, and made reaching the true summit an impossibility. The summit could wait for another day, though. He was high enough. Before speaking any further, he spent a moment taking in the view. Some of the clouds had cleared, and from this spot so high up much of Ailmere lay within sight. To his south, he could even make out the silhouettes of towers and buildings within the spectral smog of Lumbridge. If there’s one thing I don’t lack, it’s some shared enemies. He inhaled. Successful or not, the deed was done. Jay sat then on a bit of stone that was not blanketed in snow or sleet, and allowed himself some moments of rest. As he produced some materials for a campfire, he wondered whether or not this excursion would bear any fruit. The kindling became a small flame, struggling against the thin air. He stared off into the distance, waiting.

Cool stuff. I'm not CRP brained enough to speak on any of the combat spells or lorebrained enough to think on how most of the sacraments or rituals could raise any lore issues or anything, but there are two things that stick out to me as (potential) issues. - Vaults. The idea is cool in theory, but I have some concerns about creating the ability to basically soft-PK literally anyone / anything if I understand the ability correctly. While all the stuff about ensuring it is not behind too many doors and accessible in some way, along with being able to manifest prophecies about oneself being sealed away, could alleviate this to an extent, I still have some doubts as to the safety of letting this out into the world. I'm sure it would almost never get used on some random person who doesn't have some reason to be getting sealed away (i.e. some great force of good or evil who is upsetting the balance), but I still worry. - The Sacrament of Binding. Specifically, the bit about extending the respawn timer for 3 days. This seems somewhat random and arbitrary, to me at least. Again, I imagine this sacrament should, in theory, never be used on anyone aside from those who upset universal balance. But, again, I still worry. In truth these might be non-issues since I imagine any poor-faith use of these could / would be voided. But my doomer self immediately imagines all the ways they could be abused or misused.

Thread Theme: THE FERRYMEN A coin for your troubles Letter Leak... 1? 3? - A spiritual successor to a fan-favorite series As part of our noble efforts, we strive to follow a number of mottos that make the world a slightly better place. One such motto goes as follows: Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. To help achieve this end, we make some efforts to find and use what we can from locales across the world that are abandoned and in disuse. Truly, it would be a shame to let good food, drinks, and materials waste away in disuse. Rather than allow that to happen, we repurpose these things to our own ends, as clearly their old owners do not need nor care for them - after all, if they did, they would not have left them around and behind! One such location that we have practiced this endeavor in was the seemingly-abandoned keep of Merryweather (though it has admittedly seen some more life recently. . .). However, while enjoying the food and drink generously left behind by the previous occupants, we stumbled upon some interesting letters. They seem to be addressed to a Prince Heinrich of Merryweather. The Letters (Believed to have been) Written by Aleksandra, though other sources have claimed this to be false. (If this is an inaccuracy, feel free to step up and claim this writing as your own!) My Dearest Prince As I sit down to pen this letter, my heart overflows with the most profound emotions, and my words can barely do justice to the feelings that have taken root within me. From the moment our paths first crossed, my world has been illuminated by your presence, and I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you each passing day. Your grace and noble spirit, Prince Heinrich, are truly a beacon of light in a world often clouded by darkness. It is with trembling hands and a heart brimming with affection that I admit my love for you, Prince Heinrich. I dream of a future where we can walk hand in hand, facing life’s joys and challenges together. I imagine a life filled with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and a love that knows no bounds. Please know that my love for you is pure and unwavering, and I would move heaven and earth to make you happy. Quite a lovely, romantic letter. One that truly warms the heart. From consulting some historical records, we imagine this was written by his wife, Aleksandra. After all, why else hold on to them? (Though we've heard this was not the case. Saving love letters from someone other than your wife? How scandalous.) This was not the only letter found, however! This next one is a bit more. . . spicy. My Beloved Prince In the depths of my heart, a fire burns for you that is both fierce and tender. Every beat of my heart whispers your name, and every breath I take is a tribute to the love that consumes me. Your presence in my life has been a revelation, a sweet intoxication that I never want to end. Your eyes, like pools of endless mystery, draw me in with their magnetic pull, and your touch ignites a thousand sparks of desire within me. I ache for the moment when our lips will meet, when our souls will merge in a passionate embrace. My love for you knows no bounds, and it is a force that defies reason and logic. I am yours, body and soul, now and forever. Prince Heinrich, you are the embodiment of all my dreams and desires. I long for the day when I can call you mine, and we can revel in the ecstasy of our love, a love that burns brighter than the sun. [This is published for all to see and, as shown, was sourced from in-game letters]. “. . . your touch ignites a thousand sparks of desire. . . I ache for the moment our lips will meet, when our souls will merge . . .” What sultry words, capable of bringing blush to one’s face and sweat upon one’s brow. After reading all this, we have but one thing to say: 🥵 If you wish to see and read these, among other letters and correspondence from times past, all you must do is get to Merryweather and get to the room of the Prince and Princess of Merryweather! In any case, we hope this reading has both reminded you to either burn your love letters or keep them under extensive lock and key, and perhaps also inspired you to reignite some spice in your own love lives! Whatever the case, until next time, and farewell! P.S.

Man he literally answered this directly in front of the exact thing you quoted. Anyways 5 and a half warclaims since June is too much we gotta slow down guys.

Taxation Revisions of The Holy Regency Penned 17th of the First Seed, Year 1999 From here on forward, with the permission of his Holiness Fleeperus Primus, the management and allocation of funds dedicated to the Holy Regency shall be maintained and worked by Calias Mareno, in close association with the church. In accordance with such, the following laws are to be set in place regarding the taxation of those landed by the Holy See: Vassals of The Holy See are responsible for paying at the very minimum the maintenance cost of their own lands. Higher taxation may be imposed for varying reasons as seen fit by the Holy See. Landed entities which fall into a debt sum greater than five hundred mina will have either two years to fulfill their debt, or will face being unlanded. As of year 1999, the taxation rates of vassals are as follow: The Lands of Merryweather are expected to pay 250 Mina annually, and are presently 850 Mina in debt. @cherrybud The Lands of Enswerp are expected to pay 200 Mina annually and are presently 400 Mina in debt. @annanicole__ The lands of Brienne are expected to pay 150 mina annually. @JadeStryuu The lands of Artois are expected to pay 150 mina annually. @Orphvius The lands of Falkner are expected to pay 150 mina annually. @Frank_Dog Signed in the name of his Holiness:

Block placement issues will continue until morale improves.

In all the time I've known him, Mick and co have always encouraged others and myself to go do RP related things, in RP. Everything I've seen from him has always demonstrated a high value being placed on ensuring roleplay related stuff was actually done in roleplay and had legitimacy behind it. This is all aside from the fact he's been one of the nicest people I've met on the server and provided an immeasurable amount of fun to myself and others. Free Mick.

[!] A flier is distributed, stuck around the streets and halls of Church-loving Canonist nations. “And the Lord breathed life into the beasts, and ordered their estates. And GOD saw that it was good.” (Gospel 1:12-13) To any would be farmers, herders, leather workers, etc. . . The Holy Regency is pleased to announce the availability of a number of barns for lease. Located just southeast of the former Holy See, the beautiful land these barns are located on are perfect for animal husbandry - especially that of cows. These buildings come constructed in advance, and should require little to no work to get running on part of their lessees. Additionally, these barns are available for the low cost of 50 minas per year, which will go to the Holy Church. That’s right - the tax is only of mina, no leather taxation at all! Taxes can be paid at the tax office in Grense. Anyone looking to take up such an excellent offer is advised to contact either Father Milen or Calias Mareno to discuss such. We encourage you to either stop by Grense or the new Holy See on Lemon Hill in person to seek us out, or write a letter. May the Blessings of God be upon you. OOC: