MonteGiant

See the issue is argentum, which does melt when in contact with Thanhium. Honestly this balance is still in favor of Arcanium, because i personally would have it melt on the first strike with thanhium.

Im not saying its OP, its just a minor issue i hold with the lore, among other issues i have with them.

What has changed: This has been a personal bug of mine for quite a while. Thanhic Steel, in its current state, will melt upon contact with magic due to its absorption quality which is completely fine. [2] strikes from a [T5] Magical Attack will result in the Thanhic Steel melting, though, in regards to Arcanium specifically, it may simply tap Thanhium for [2] strikes and melt the Thanhium. In contrast however, Arcanium may last upwards of [3] strikes from Thanhic steel and simply go inert and dormant for [1] OOC Day, which is completely misbalanced IMO. Also, in addition, the redline where this is found doesn't make sense; it should be under [Refined Form Redlines] and not under [Refining Redlines] If Something is one way, the other should receive the same; it makes no sense for one to be better than the other, especially given its relatively “Cheap” cost to create compared to the other. CURRENT LORE UNDER REFINING REDLINES: AMENDED LORE THAT SHOULD BE PLACED UNDER REFINED REDLINES INSTEAD OF REFINING REDLINES:

Thanks man.

ᴀᴡQᴀɴᴀᴋᴜʏᴘᴀ ᴛ’ᴜQʏᴀʏɴɪɴ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʀʙᴀɴᴅ The day started simply, upon the eve after the siege of the Horde Capital, the taste within a Tawantinsuyin Templar’s mouth was left uncouth. The warrior’s heritage demands vengeance, and he must achieve such, and he will… The warrior would wander within the heart of Burgundy, where he would spot the familiar visage of a raven-haired Savoyard and a man of de Senna draped in a green cloak. There would be a query prompted from the Tawantinsuyin… “Alexandre! Ride with me and let us show these greenskins the meaning of WAR.” Simply said in response would the Savoyard state, as an echelon of nonchalance, “Oue.” and in tandem would the man of de Senna nod their head, stating, “I am coming along as well.” And there began the venture within the badlands, and with such audacity and vigor did this band of three ride deep into enemy territory, right into their capital… Immediately, the troupe ventured far and wide before finding themself within the capital of the Horde, and soon would the warband spot their foe- a personal bodyguard of the very Rex themself, clad in the distinct plate of crimson hues. And forth like hounds did these young warriors pounce upon him, surrounding him in each of his flanks. The Tawantinsuyin Templar, drawing his fearsome Macana of scarlet tincture ordained in the very adornments of his people, hungry for blood and now enraptured in the crimson-aureate flame of those radiant Kondorisi, calling aloud, “Do not move, stay just there.” From this, the Savoyard clad in his heliwr garb, would drop from his steed and raise up a glaive of fierce material to the Uruk. In tandem, the de Senna would draw upon an arming sword trusted upon him by his kin, his gaze hard and cold, his draping garment bearing the icon of a phoenix upon his rear. They were no cowards hiding behind masks. They were Warriors clad in the symbols defining them. The Uruk would respond to such combatants, bringing an axe into his grasp and looking upon the vigorous warband, their unique golden eyes glowing fiercely through his helm upon each, “Iz der an izzue, pinkehz?” and from such a declaration would the Tawantinsuyin clad in golden armor drop from his war-llama steed, menacing the Uruk with his crimson macana, “You and your kind will know the meaning of Hate.” the warrior’s form soon circling into a wild firestorm of scarlet-gold, translucent and heatless, yet equally as fierce as any other. Swiftly did the de Senna dismount his steed in tandem with Rodrigo, his arming sword gleaming within the light as he prepared for a fight, though not as nimble as the Savoyard Heliwr. His boots whispering over shattered granite like a hunter tracing old battlefield bones. Moving with the coiled grace of a predatory feline; silent, deliberate, patient. In his clutches, the ebony-edged glaive wrought of a High-Density material hovered and suddenly swung upon the Uruk in a fury! Whipping overhead, singing through the air, bringing down the obsidian menace upon Uruk’s blood-scarlet backplate, near crippling him in a ferocious DRA-THOOM! The Uruk, being unable to give much in counter, but a failing sweep of his axe upon the Savoyard, slashing his studded leather jacket and pushing the heliwr back a pace. However, with such a ferocious sound, there a pair of Uruk’s aiming to back their kith. The pair would be of vast difference, one a fierce Orkish General clad in fierce and heavy armor, whilst the other was unarmored in naught but rags… A worthy and equal battle within the High Seat of the Uruk Rex, their capital… both would draw their armaments, one a simple shortsword and the other a fierce hammer-axe armament wrought of the same material as the Savoyard’s own glaive. However, they would not be quick enough, as the Tawantinsuyin Templar with his fierce crimson Macana, would make a flight of great speed, bringing up his polearm high up to the heavens to then- CRASH -down upon the Uruk’s lower backplate! Bringing the crimson-clad warrior to fall towards the cobblestones upon his back, as he watched the skirmish, Edgar de Senna would fix his attention upon the other uruks, sheathing his blade within his scabbard and clasping the halberd upon his back and making warding swings to the pair, bringing them away from him and into the bottleneck of the carnage inflicted by the Tawantinsuyin and Savoyard. Despite his fallen state, the Savoyard would climb to his feet and drag his pole-staff into a vicious riposte upon the Uruk, the Glaive hissing through the moonlit air, striking the Uruk’s side and furthering his worsened state. This was Revenge, this was the festering hatred of the past century, all to this moment… The Uruk general of Clan Akaal and his unarmored peon would move towards his Uruk ally, seeing his despair as the warriors three make easy work of him, albeit his pace would be akin to that of a sloth from the magical heavy armor of his clan. Though grand in defense, it would prove nothing but his failure in such a battle. Commonly proven within the realms of the world that there is only the quick and the dead, and the Tawantinsuyin of the Panaka of Leomonte would prove such as he would rush into the fray of battle, screaming a fierce war-cry, “ALALA!” bringing down his macana to crash down upon the prone Uruk in tandem with the Savoyard, making their own finishing strike with his Volatite glaive upon the fallen Greenskin like the very fist of God. However, the Uruk General of Clan Akaal would reach his ally as such crippling strikes are given, quipping “Lat come to mi blarg, agh lat flat mi kin? Dat ahm nub honorable… Mi will zhow lat whub honor really ahm!” crying such aloud as he grabbed his ally away from the strikes from the Tawantinsuyin and Savoyard… It would be in naught, however, for the strikes would connect and shatter his legs completely; Crippling the Uruk and knocking them unconscious, extinguishing his fire. “Commonly proven within the realms of the world, that there is only the quick and the dead.” With the Uruk crippled, the Bloodhound of de Senna would make his way towards the Peon Uruk, making warding stabs to isolate them from their Uruk General. The Akaal themself charging into the fray of combat against the twin fighters Savoyard and Tawantinsuyin, and in response, with a keen mind, would they both vault over a shattered stone wall, both utilizing their polearm’s staves as leverage… The Savoyard would bring themself to a rest atop the wall, but the Tawantinsuyin Templar would bring himself to a complete standstill, his mind in meditation and his arms crossed over his chest. With such a tactical retreat, the General would call aloud, “LET UZ ZETTLE DIZ, HUMIEZ! FACE MI! DO NUB ZHED DAH GRIZH OB LATZ COMRADEZ! GRANT MI LATZ BEZT WAGHIOR, AGH MI WILL KLOMP DEM. DO LAT ACCEPT DIZ CHALLENGE?” The Uruk of Clan Akaal, standing tall with his Hammer-Axe in his grasp, courage running through his veins, a stark contrast to the unarmored Uruk who would retreat from the fearsome Bloodhound. There, the radiant Tawantinsuyin Kondorisi would stand, a manifested inferno of red-gold flame, its wispy translucent form sapping at the heavens and air around as it desires to breathe before being concentrated to the warrior’s heart. The strange orchestra of war drums would thud and bang in the symphony of battle from the Golden Barbarian, him responding to the Akaal in simplicity, “Then Come Forth. Uruk.” In tandem, would the Bloodhound Edgar continue his flourish of polearm strikes upon the unarmored Uruk, previous slashes and stabs making themselves present upon his bare skin, crimson upon green. The Bloodhound’s unending strikes prove profound in the skirmish, locking down the Uruk's attention on him and away from his ally and what is to come… The Savoyard upon the other flank would settle into a stillness akin to Rodrigo, coiled in dust and silence. He waited, he watched, every breath bringing him deeper into the trance of a predator. His shoulders would peak like a cat's; his crouch upon the cracked ebon wall would remain; he was ready to spring, ready to pounce… “Then Come Forth. Uruk.” And hither did the Akaal move with his ebon hammer in his grasp, bracing for an attack as he made his final quip, “Lat klomp for latz god, mi klomp for KRUG. WE WILL PEEP WHICH AHM ZTRONGAH!” However, he would find no easy final bout, as the Radiant Templar of Malchediael would gaze upon the Uruk General, a smirk forming beneath the steel visage of his helm, and forth would the wisping scarlet-gold flames culminate in a ferocious FLASH, immediately blinding the Akaal in his profound hubris! And with such a DIVINE flash of light, blinding and searing the edges of the world, the Savoyard would make his move. Alexandre’s boots skipping across the blackened stones, grit spitting beneath his heels as they fought for balance, momentum carrying the Heliwr forward and into murder! The mace within his grasp arcing down in a brutal descending sweep, every ounce of weight and will behind such a strike upon the Uruk of Clan Akaal’s helm! Pride goes before a fall… The Akaal was blinded and stunned in concussive pain as his helm cracked, and the force of the mace striking into his head coursed through his very body, the uruk spitting blood as his left eye would pop, flying from its socket and out of his visor. His final words, “C-Coward…” and with such a stun, the Tawantinsuyin Rodrigo would grab the mace upon his belt, shaped akin to a star to maximize its destructive force, the armament wrought of ebon material, as a thick layer of dried crimson ichor lay upon its head. Forth with such a drawing of his mighty weapon, the Tawantinsuyin Templar would make a destructive blow of his Pachakuteq atop the Akaal’s Head! In tandem with such a fearsome blow, a ferocious- THUNDERCLAP -would erupt within the streets of the Horde Capital, a call to the heavens as a divine light would shine and beam upon Rodrigo as a vigorous crackling of a thunderstrike would ring through the skies! The Akaal, upon being struck on his head, would make no movements, completely stunned and as still as a statue, blood flowing through the cracks of his roughly made armor, honing his axe and hardening his armor… He would remain, looking towards the heavens, as if to call upon Krug to bring him to Stargush’stroh… and akin to the statue he formed into, breathless, motionless… Dead. “The Sun Rises above the Horde.” Would the Savoyard state aloud upon the death of the Akaal General, moving forth to his own fallen uruk, pressing his foot against the crimson plate of the Bodyguard of the Rex, and cleaving his head from the cripple’s shoulders. In tandem, would Rodrigo conduct the same, taking the fierce Akaal leader’s head and securing it to his belt by way of its long orcish braid… His loyal peon, upon the sight of his great general falling to the Radiant Barbarian’s invincible hands, would attempt to flee, but by the beckoning of Rodrigo, the Bloodhound of House de Senna would rush to the craven uruk and impale them with his halberd! Their eyes would go wide, blood pooling from their mouth as they attempted to cry towards Edgar in terror, “Lat… Will… Be… New…” slashing their blade upon the Bloodhound’s form to no avail… Cling Cling Clang! The echoes of the blade meeting plate would prove the Uruk’s frailty to the superior human, and from this, Edgar would leverage the impaled Uruk upwards aloft into the heavens! There would Edgar stand, the blood of his foe draping over his gilded armor and green cloak, ichor pouring down and dyeing it to a profound crimson. And as such, a scarlet rain would finish falling upon him, the Bloodhound would throw the Uruk off the tip of his polearm, quipping in response to the Uruk’s muttered speech towards him… “I do not speak your language, Greenskin.” And with such a statement uttered, Edgar the Bloodhound would claim his prize, decapitating the uruk’s head and tying the trophy to his belt by way of his braid, akin to Rodrigo and Alexandre. And forth would the Tawantinsuyin leader of the warband call out to his troupe, “Let us depart, we have won our prize.” Victory was Silent, Merciless, and Entirely Theirs…

Makes sense, now give me Mystic MA and Barrowborn FA and Voidal Magics And 30 MArts and Shunting FA and ST Metal and CArts and Golemancy and Atronach Forging and. . . Overall tho, this is fire, The candles are kinda dumb in first place.

I love fire.

The gutwrenching orchestra of blades upon flesh... Whoosh. . . Squelch. . . Crunch. . . Such a symphony could only be heard within the Throne Hall of Idunia, for therein lies the blood of Haelunor. Their ideas of racial supremacy would grant them no succor upon that day. . . Rodrigo of the Panaka of Leomonte was present at such a massacre; however, his invincible hands would not flourish in the slaying of Elves, only being put forth to capture a criminal. He, a profound warrior of the fierce and radiant Huaca Manko Capac, wished to sever this elf’s connection from the deity for many a moon since he heard of him from Captain Vander oh so long ago. . . The Radiant Tawantinsuyin Templar Had Achieved Such A Goal, For Xavier Adiler’s Tie to Manko Capac Remains No More.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴋɪʀᴍɪꜱʜ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘɪʀᴇ. . . The night was deep upon the continent of Azuras, a night that would cloak the world within the shadows of guile and turn ordinary streets into realms of danger. The air was thick with mists of tension, an electricity rhythming through the bones of the inhabitants of this Empire of Burgundy as if the night itself held its breath in anticipation. . . Within the Capital city of Rittersburg, a shining warrior armored in golden scales would enter upon their vigorous steed and find themselves facing the soon-to-be Princess of Myrine Adeline and the Princess of Blackvale Romhilda, chattering in worry and terror. For a most horrible action had been committed upon the soon-to-be Princess of Myrine. . . “Rodrigo!” would Adeline call aloud to the warrior, having previously met the warrior, a Tawantinsuyin of the Lord Paramountcy of Viru and noble scion of the panaka of Leomonte, “I had just been robbed, and these scullions of a guard are so lousy at their job they could not even be bothered to set up a proper search for those damnable highwaymen!” As the noblewoman declared her issue to the golden-clad warrior, an Imperial Guard by the name of Frederick de Helenor would call aloud in a fit of laziness and anger, “Okay, I ain't searching! The one girl is saying the guard is lousy, and I'm not willing to search for someone insulting the guard!” such a statement would ring through the noble warrior and reaffirming his belief on what he thought true, that the Imperial Guard had fallen to egotistical vices that has made them unwilling to perform their actual duties, protecting the citizens of the Empire. . . Rodrigo of Viru would shake his head in disappointment, “The Imperial Guard is more accustomed to their stone walls of safety than aiding the Imperial Princesses. . . I will help you Adeline, and by mine hand will these bandits fall.” There, the warrior would extend his gauntleted hand to Adeline, then calling out to her peer Princess Romhilda of the House of Van Aert, “If you wish to see true justice be done, ride with me!” There, the fair-haired noblewoman would climb the noble War-Llama Steed of the Tawantinsuyin, and as he prepared to rush into combat alone, the Prince of Savoy, Antoine de Savoie, appeared. The armored prince called aloud in query, “Bandits? Rodrigo? What have I missed?” in which the Tawantinsuyin lord would quickly respond in tandem, “It appears some bandits have accosted the soon-to-be princess of Myrine, I am pledging to aid in her cause. . . Will you join us, Don Antoine?” Rodrigo would ask of the Savoyard, soon equipping his own golden helmet in preparation for the skirmish that would occur. The Prince would grant no response, giving a nod of his head as he drew his longsword from his scabbard. The Tawantinsuyin would then call aloud towards the Imperial Guard, drawing his spear of cerulean tincture, “MOUNT UP AND HELP US FIGHT THESE BANDITS!” However, it would be to no avail, as the guard would rather cower in the name of bandits and do naught a thing to aid the people they are sworn to protect. In light of these actions, Rodrigo would curse under his breath and bring his steed to a full canter onto the road towards Alba, his spear giving an eerie hum as a cold mist emanated from its form. As they would ride away, the noblewoman Adeline would say in a smiling sigh, “What a relief it is to have some competent men in this world. . .” Upon their galloping through the road towards Alba, they would quickly find the same bandits who had accosted the soon-to-be Princess of Myrine, accosting another noblewoman upon the roads. No names would be exchanged upon the beginning of the skirmish, only a recognition declared by the noblewomen Adeline of Alstion and Romhilda Van Aert. “THAT IS THEM!” - “HALT THEM!” Upon these commands, the golden-clad warrior would bring his noble steed to draw upon the flank of the bandits, with his cerulean polearm in his tight grasp as he gave aim to their form. Screaming out aloud, “You will halt your movements upon this moment, foul scum, and face mine justice!” In tandem, Antoine de Savoie pulled the reins of his steed to a halt before the bandits. As he did so, his hand shifted from the reins and onto the hilt of his blade before bringing it out towards the Bandits alongside Rodrigo. The Bandits would be utterly shocked by the blitz committed by the radiant Tawantinsuyin and the Savoyard Prince, one of them falling off their very horse, watching it run away before the great warriors. Each of them, upon witnessing the warrior’s counterattack upon their assault, “RUN AWAY!” The other bandits that were atop their own steed immediately rushed away onto the road, abandoning their ally. . . COWARDS. Immediately, the Tawantinsuyin warrior Rodrigo would spring into action, having brought up his spear forged out of pristine Thanhic Steel, granting a ferocious war cry, a symbol of his people, “ALALA!!!” then loosing it upon the shoulder of the fleeing horseback rider. Screams in terror would be displayed from the honorable noblewoman Adeline of Alstion as, during the golden-clad warrior’s rush, the abandoned bandit had sought to crash his axe into the steed of Rodrigo. Though to the abandoned bandit’s error, they had forgotten the renowned Antoine de Savoie. The prince of Savoy would bring his blade to gash upon the thigh of the bandit, halting their attack whilst calling aloud to his ally, “Lord Rodrigo, do your best not to kill them! Try and capture them!” On went Rodrigo: After his successful throw of his spear upon the bandit, he would grab upon his sling and place a stone within, swinging it vigorously as his horse continued its full canter, finally loosing it upon the head of the brigand! Causing the scoundrel to fall from a hillside onto the grounds with his passenger, but much to their dismay, in tandem with this fall would the Tawantinsuyin warrior loose a flask upon the brigands, immediately capturing them with a murky substance that would halt their escape. . . Rodrigo had kept his word of not slaying the brigands where they stood. Antoine de Savoie, on the other hand, would have an easier time dealing with his singular bandit. Having disabled his movement, he would rush to plant his blade into the ground and, at the behest of Romhilda Van Aert, then bind the abandoned bandit with spare rope, tossing him into a soon-to-be-formed pile of scum. The Princess of Blackvale, calling aloud in happiness, “ADDY! Can you believe that we four did more than the actual guards did!?” In tandem, the honorable Adeline would raise her own blade into the air, calling aloud, “Huzzah!” “BRING THE SKALLYWAGS UP HERE!” A command by the Princess of Blackvale, a command easily received, as both Rodrigo of Viru and Adeline of Alstion would bring their captured bandits to the pile of SCUM. Each of the band would take their prize from the bandits, for Rodrigo, the Scalp of the one he drove his spear into, for Romhilda and Adeline, their stolen goods, and for Antoine, he merely wished for his sword to grace the hand of the honorable Adeline as she delivered. . . Her Justice. The Justice of Adeline would be swift and poetic, for in her grasp was the blade of Antoine de Savoie, and her target would be the hands of the bandit who accosted her. No longer would such a brigand attack a citizen of the empire within the streets, no more would a woman of her station be disregarded, no more would the woman be defenseless in the face of fear, for she would raise the blade and cleave through the wrists of the once-abandoned bandit. All the while, however, a child involved and captured alongside the bandits would drone on about something. . . “You win, you lose” - “we have won enough for the day, so now it is time to lose.” “BALANCE!”

Rodrigo would look upon the missive with a smile, but suddenly it would disappear for merely a moment. "Was I forgotten?"

To the honorable Catrin Solene Helvets of the Phoenixsphere, I wish to begin by stating how truly sorry I am for how I handled things upon that night on the ball. The skirmish of argumentative screaming, mine ending of our relationship, and general disrespect at your party was incredibly thoughtless and unfair to you. You did not deserve to have something so personal, so painful, so dramatic happen in front of others, especially on a night that was supposed to be about celebrations and enjoying oneself. Looking back, I recognize how selfish my timing and approach was, especially the concerns of my argument that occurred outside the ballroom. I let my emotions and discomfort take over instead of thinking about how my actions would affect you. I gave you mine truth, but you also deserved compassion and respect, and I failed to give you either in such a moment. You mean, or rather meant, a lot to me, and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt or embarrass you. I cannot undo what has happened, though know I truly regret the way it unfolded and the pain I caused you. Please know that this apology is not about easing my guilt that I might face, it is about acknowledging how wrong I was and taking responsibility for such. I hope, in time, you can forgive me, or at least find some peace knowing how sincerely sorry I am. You did not deserve the torrent of emotions rushing upon that day, and I’ll carry that lesson forward to make sure I never treat someone or even you that carelessly again. With sincere regret, Rodrigo Tupaq Amaru, Scion of the Panaka of Leomonte

Plainly, this is such an L take, or rather a take founded on ignorance of the other side, and it's sad to see. This attitude of seeing PVP as this foul thing that is evil in all respects is something that ferments this in vs out group that you are speaking about right now. I started LOTC as a Roleplayer, and I still am, even if I do PVP. PVP is a mechanic of minecraft and is also a part of LOTC. I would recommend, as I do, accepting it and learning it so you are not at a mechanical disadvantage or RP disadvantage. Crying about friends who give each other gifts? Let us be so real, I'm not going to even dignify that with a response LOL. However, I understand the sentiment that PVPers can be volatile, and to be perfectly honest, it comes with the territory of competitiveness. Competitive games can always bring out some foul shit in people, but it's largely something of a non-issue that is mainly banter. I can be biased, but I am fairly new to the scene, and I have heard shit, but it's not really all that. It's mainly, as I said, banter. (Im from Norf Jersey, so I have 100% seen, heard, felt, and been through worse shit than whatever anyone can say online lmao). Now I am going to be so real with you yo, this idea that PVP is a “Social system built around peer pressure, excessive demands, evening gaslighting, insulting, mockery, and the diminishment of others oocly” is so weird I ain't gon hold you. PVP is literally just clicking, bro, that is it. Sure, there are techs and things of that nature, but that is a larger take on it that is not needed. I can understand there are insults, but genuinely, it is not that serious ever. This seems to me like the issue here is a “Skill Issue”. Whining about the Badlands is really strange to me, honestly. The Badlands are meant to be the PVP area, where you go to fight. I also understand that Empire RP sucks unless you are part of an “in” group; however, this is not something new. Even as I am now about a little over a year on the server, Haense had the same issue of being largely Clique-ish, and so I am not really bothered. Granted, I understand I am not the everyman, but this issue is simply a more server culture of LOTC and NOT a PVP issue.

And so the Tawantinsuyin warrior, clad in golden scales, a shimmering blade within his grasp, would be seated upon the highest mounts within the badlands of the Isles of Kalldur. He regularly cleans the blade of his forefather, the ichor of those who bear false Identification, felled by his very hand and prowess. “Kallapasapakuna.” Solemn words uttered by the youth, a phrase of meaning to his people, a thesis that reflects the actions he has committed within these lands.

Just me standin as living proof.

Yeah i just peeped lol, my fault but its nun i can do thanks to forums.

No bro that is not true, you can still have enchanted items be warforged bro. Though there is an order, but still.

Yeah, no one naturally thinks anything. . . That is why we have experimentation bro, its call trying shit out after a dutiful process to make stuff work. you can naturally experiment for anything.

bro books for common recipes still exist, this wont render them inert in the slightest if you would read above, also auric oil is already common knowledge what you mean? As with all alchemy potions, you dont inherently know any potions unless you learn them, either from a teacher, a book, or in this instance since its common knowledge as with all common knowledge potions, through dutiful experimentation. This bit im even more confused about purely because it literally takes nothing away from starsteel. I dont know what you mean genuinely, this comment truly befuddles me.

That is what common knowledge means, if its widespread then it is not rare. also this, as like all alchemical potions, are not inherently known once you have a FA, you must be taught or learn it through some other means, or by experimentation you learn it. IMO, its like daemonsteel, technically its rare knowledge, but its too widespread to warrant that. Unless LT straight up just tell me it has to be rare for a fuckin aesthetic, this shit is common knowledge because it is common knowledge.

me