Metamancy

[!] One by one, short but blunt missives begin appearing around Azuras. REJOICE, AZURAS! Your liberators have come from overseas! WE, the people of CONCORD, have come to FREE you from the rule of your OPPRESSORS. We offer you now the freedom to be free from YOUR rulers, and be under OUR rule instead. We will MARCH upon the nations of Azuras, and we will KILL all who stand in our way, in the name of FREEDOM! Resist us, and you shall be met with the same fate that your oppressors will meet. Join us, and you will be FREED as people under CONCORD! And to the oppressors: prepare for DEFEAT. We will UNITE Azuras, and you will be DETHRONED. Accept OUR rule, and you may be spared mercy. AVE CONCORDIA! OOC:

Update: i am broke

PLEASE I NEED TO GAMBLE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE [!] Missives can be seen posted throughout Azuras, marked (rather boldly) with the Praeterian Compass. OOC: I need to gamble. Gambling has left me at a total sum of 80 mina. If you would like to gamble, write to me. We will be playing a game of dice – I will not gamble with any other game. I will only gamble for 50 mina or less – to begin with. The game is most fun with three or more people. Bring a friend, if you would like. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED TO GAMBLE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Sailor of Praeteria

i could have sworn it was amended before to make it so that you can only have 1 ever, are we amending it back?

OOC: “Silas,” An elfess’ voice called out through the calling of seagulls and the crashing of waves. The orc, now barely a teenager, turned his head in the direction of the voice, a bright smile jumping to his face as he saw who was calmly ambling towards him. “Admiral!” Admiral Emerald mirrored his smile, though hers was more calm, wiser far beyond the young Silas’ years. She was a tall, lean elfess; her skin as white as the clouds in the sky over the calm seas, her ears as sharp as the cutlass she held. Her left eye was covered by an eyepatch Silas had never heard the story of. Silas spotted the cutlass in the Admiral’s hand, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What be that cutlass fer, Admiral?” The young orc asked. A small smile came to the usually-stern Admiral’s lips. “It’s fer ye,” Explained Admiral Emerald, extending the cutlass towards Silas – to take. “Yer old enough fer a cutlass o’ ye own, now.” Silas gawked at the cutlass extended towards him in disbelief. “Ye mean it?” The orc asked Emerald. The Admiral merely smiled. “Aye. ‘S prob’ly a bit big fer ye right now; but ye’ll grow into it, yer an uruk. ‘S definitely too big fer me, anyway!” She chimed out a gentle laugh, a stark contrast from the booming command she exhibited during battles. With glimmering eyes of youth, Silas reached out and gently took the cutlass – which was, in fact, too large for him at the moment – examining it with both his hands. He ran a finger along its edge in fascination, admiring it. After a moment of being caught up in the cutlass’ beauty, he remembered to look up at Emerald, smiling brightly. “Th- thank ye, Admiral!” Emerald smiled. “O’course, me lad.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ The years flew by. Days of singing and drinking flowed into weeks of sailing and adventure, and weeks flowed into months of trade, exploration and victorious battles. Emerald, despite being thin, frail and certainly not a fighter of any sort, was a strategic mastermind; it was as though her missing eye was substituted for by a mind’s eye that was able to see the entire battlefield at once. She knew exactly which ships to attack and when, which way the current would flow, and which formations the fleet needed to organize into to ensure victory. Under Emerald’s leadership, the fleet flourished; they docked at lands previously unexplored and found the most valuable of treasures. But it was not fated to last. ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Pirates!” Came the roar of the watch from the crow’s nest high above. The crew sprang to action, running to the cannons, preparing for battle. As his family rushed with controlled panic around him, Silas wove his way through the crowd, looking for his Admiral. He found her, at last, standing at the bow of the flagship. Silas, now a good few decades old, picked up his pace as he ran up to her, grinning – expecting to see the usual, calm expression upon her face as she prepared to win another pirate battle. But the look of devastation upon her face surprised him; and when he followed her gaze unto the horizon, he could see why. Dozens. It had to be dozens of ships that lined the horizon; double the Praeterian count, at minimum. It was a pirate fleet unlike any they had seen before; conquerors and plunderers of the seas, a terror the Praeterian Fleet had apparently yet to encounter. After a moment, Silas turned to Emerald, who met his gaze with a somber expression. “...orders, Admiral?” Emerald smiled, faintly. “Do you trust in me?” “Aye, Admiral.” “Then we shall fight, and we shall win.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Salem,” An orc’s voice called out through the calling of seagulls and the crashing of waves. The elf turned her head in the direction of the voice, a bright smile jumping to her face as she saw who was calmly ambling towards her. “Admiral!” Silas ambled up to the young elf, moving to sit beside her as they gazed out upon the open ocean. “D’yer need me, Admiral Silas?” Silas placed a hand on Salem’s shoulder. “We’re about te hit a storm,” Spoke the red orc. Salem looked up at him, blinking with wide eyes. “Do w’need ter go through it?” “Aye, if we wanna make landfall before we run out o’ resources. Faisal’s already gone ahead and scouted. ‘S a big island they call Aevos – might even be a continent, ah daresay.” Salem grinned. “Landfall! It’ll be m’first island since Kitos.” Silas mirrored her grin. “Then ye better get ready, eh?” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Fire in the hole!” Roared Emerald through the din as ships burned around them. With the BOOM of the cannons and the raging of fires in his ears, Silas ran his blade through another pirate who had somehow found their way onto the flagship. “Admiral, orders?” Cried the young Silas, unsure if Emerald could hear him over the noise. If she could, she ignored him. Silas quickly diverted his attention to the state of the battle; were they winning? No. They had less than half a dozen ships remaining, at least of the ones Silas could see; and the pirate ships seemed endless, stretching on onto the horizon. Emerald surveyed the battlefield in a single, broad glance – and her gaze met Silas’. In that single moment, a decision was made – and Emerald shortly raised a single hand, a gesture that all recognized. Cease fire. After another round of cannonfire, things fell eerily quiet. The pirates were experienced fighters; they recognized a surrender when they saw one. The pirate flagship slowly made its way over to theirs. Luckily, the Black Serpent had yet to sink. Silas saw the pirate lord make his way over to the side of the ship, grinning out at them. The orc felt something stir within him – bloodlust – but he knew there was little he could do. “What do you want?” Came Emerald’s simple query. The pirates exchanged a few looks. “All yer treasure,” The pirate lord simply replied. Then, after a brief discussion with his crewmates– “An’ yer Admiral, too.” Silas could only watch as the plank was extended, and that frail elf made her way over from her home – her ship, the Black Serpent – over to her grave. The orc watched as they bound her, forced her to kneel– And he could not force himself to watch as his Admiral’s screams cried out into the night. The other sailors simply stared at Silas as he covered his ears. “...signal to the other ships,” Said Silas, once the treasure was handed over and the other pirate ships had left, leaving what few ships the Praeterian Fleet had left alone. “We’re leavin’.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ The election for their new Admiral was not close. Silas won, unanimously – he had been Emerald’s right hand, and there were few other candidates. With their resources plundered, they were forced to dock at a small, nearby island settlement to restock. It was a few decades out into this new routine that Aiolos joined the crew, and Salem washed up, just a teenager in that little rowboat. ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ Silas stood with a letter in hand. To Silas, Old friend, good luck. I did my duty, now it's time for my rest. I'm sorry if it wasn't perfect, but it happened. If we ever get a stage, let me watch over it... a memorial or something. Yours truly, Salem, The Bleeding Tongue. Thank you for being in my life. That night, for the first time in a long time, Silas returned to his ship. He had been land-bound for too long. He paused as he boarded the vessel, looking out upon the now-derelict boat that he had once sailed with all his crew. His crew. The red uruk never stopped grinning; his smile was a habit of life, and it was nearly impossible to wipe it off his face. But that night, his grin was just a little bit less wide. He dusted off the cobwebs on the wheel, and, for a moment, allowed himself to imagine Salem there, beside him, as they gazed out together upon their crew hard at work. He could hear the seagulls crying, could smell the ocean air. Only after a long while did he allow himself to open his eyes again. He moved away from the wheel, prying his hands off of it, and retrieved a raft from one of the cellars. He was grateful, in that moment, that he was an orc, and that he could carry the raft with ease. He stepped off of the vessel and back down onto the ground, letter in one hand and raft in the other. And he moved the small raft onto a similarly small rowboat. He moved himself into the minuscule rowboat, and grabbed ahold of the oars. It had been a very long time since he had had to row. Slowly, with his brutish strength, he rowed out to sea, ensuring that the raft balanced on the rowboat did not fall overboard. Eventually, when he could no longer see land, he placed the oars within the rowboat and picked up the raft. Slowly, very slowly, once-admiral Silas placed the raft on the water beside the rowboat. He placed Salem’s letter on the raft. He picked up the torch he had brought with him, and set the raft aflame. And he gently pushed the raft away, allowing the ocean to carry the burning raft - and letter - out to sea. He did not speak a single word. He sighed softly and began rowing back to shore. The sun began to rise by the time land came back into sight. Silas chuckled. “Look at that, Salem,” He murmured to himself. “Land ahoy.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ Silas found himself standing in the Synod, a tower he had found on his journeys across Azuras. How’d ah get here? He had entered the cathedral, met by Azrakan, who had spoken of undead and communing with the dead. Communing with the dead. Then, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had returned and spoken with a menacing being named Nox, who had explained that they would help him see Emerald again – in exchange for his unwavering loyalty. And now, Silas stood before two Barrowlords, a Pale Lord, and several mystics. “You’ll need an item of great significance to the person,” One of the mystics had told him. He’d taken out his cutlass – the one Emerald had given him – and was ready to call her back. But as he drew that blade, he saw his own reflection upon the cutlass. He saw his eyes, he saw his tusks. He saw his nervous smile. That grin he always wore. “Ah-” His breathing quickened, and he felt his grip upon the cutlass tighten. “Is something the matter?” Hummed one of the Barrowlords, softly. Was something the matter? Emerald. He was able to see Emerald again. Wasn’t he? ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “What were those things?” Silas had asked Emerald following a battle with an undead ship. “Skeletons?” “They call ‘em undead,” Was Emerald’s answer. “They be evil, ye see. Don’ ever let ‘em lie te ye, get into yer mind. Yer a good soul, Silas; yer above evil, an’ ah want ye te always remember that.” Silas had laughed. “Why would ah ever want te put m’trust in skeletons?” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Ah - ah jus’ remembered,” Silas chuckled nervously. “Ah - ah gotta go. We can - we can do this another time. Ah’ve got places te be.” One of the Barrowlords shared a look with the being who had named himself Nox and the Pale Lord. “Davu?” Came the Barrowlord’s voice. Silas did not know what it meant. “Not sure,” Was the Pale Lord’s response to the Barrowlord, before stepping forth, coming closer to Silas at a painfully slow rate. “Orc.” Silas felt his heart in his throat. “Are you regretting coming here?” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Admiral, do ye ever make mistakes?” A young orc had once asked the elf. Emerald had laughed. “O’course, me lad. Who doesn’t?” Silas swung his legs, grinning. “What do you do when you make a mistake?” Emerald laughed some more. “Ah make things right.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “An’… if ah am? Would ye kill me?” The Lord’s focus honed in upon the red orc, and he could feel it. “That depends. Do you intend to rain malice upon us with your departure? Have people you know can deal with some darkness, come and try to euthanize us?” A pause. “Your answer will determine your fate.” Silas knew what he had to say – and he found a sliver of truth in it. “Why would ah?” He responded. “Ye’ve been kind enough te offer me a chance te speak with me family again. Jus’ because ah found ah don’ want it anymore don’ mean ah ain’ grateful.” “Orc,” Came another voice. It was the being who had named itself Nox. “You remember our conversation in the hallway earlier?” “Ah changed me mind,” Said Silas. Fear was not a notion familiar to the sailor, and so he looked directly into Nox’s eyes. “An’ besides. They–” He gestured to one of the Barrowlords– “Said ah didn’ need te linger.” “You had a chance, present here, to speak with your family?” Queried Nox. “Aye.” “Then it is, to my perception, exactly as I guessed it would be. You would begin small steps onto the Synod, ask for a favor, you got to speak with your family, and now you’re conveniently leaving. I did tell you we are not to be used.” The stoneborn’s tone was stern, even angry. Silas did not back down; if he were to die here, he knew he would deserve it. He could feel Emerald beside him even without a seance, watching him, judging him. What are you doing here? “What were the reasons you have changed your mind?” “Nox, leave him be,” The Palelord drawled out. It came as a surprise to Silas. “Orc, you are free to go, if you give us your word that you will not intend malice upon us.” ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ It was the first time in a long time Silas had had to run. The moment he was out of that door, he bolted for the hills, getting away, away, away from whatever awaited him within that Synod. He ran until even his trained orcish stamina failed him, and he doubled over, breathing heavily. What have you done? He heard Emerald’s voice. Ah’m sorry, He responded. Silas. Ah’m sorry. Silas. Ah’m sorry. ▪───────────────────────── ⚔ ─────────────────────────▪ “Silas, are ye alright? Yer talkin’ all weird,” Aiolos had asked him a few hours later. Silas had chuckled. “Ah’m fine.”

there are creatures that are not playable, but can be used in player or story team events

heyhey! this is a LOT better than your last piece. first off, this actually makes sense - kind of. you're framing it as a voidal magic, which is strange in its own right because every other voidal magic is [1] slot, but this is [2]. also, i feel this niche is already somewhat covered by mysticism. mysticism is the magic that deals with ghosts, and although your idea of "shadows" is a bit different, a lot of these abilities feel a bit strange and not quite right for LOTC. i'm not gonna go into a full rant about why this probably won't work, but i REALLY REALLY REALLY want you to listen when i say write some amendments and additions first. tackling ANY new magic is a HUGE undertaking that takes really experienced players MONTHS. i get that writing magics is fun, but if you want to do something like this, i would start your own, independent worldbuilding project. LOTC's lore is just a bit too strict for creative ideas like these. tldr, don't try to write ambitious lorepieces like this one, start smaller (please)

people say this all the time, i think being a murder hobo that feels immense shame when someone says "i double dare you to jump off a cliff" is a pretty big drawback

"Haah..." . . . "Adrian..." . . . "ADRIAN...." For somewhere, deep within the High Hells, there was always someone waiting for Adrian, should he come.

i cant read ts