Alex_Pan

Okay, I'm confused. Did this happen for realzies?

The FEROX LEGIO!

My new character, Eh'rog, is a self-proclaimed Lur by heritage. He is son of Eh'rog Lur, son of Eh'rog Lur (Aerog).

Well hi friends. I just got off school. I rolled an orc after hearing that you guys were in need of players. I can't promise that I'll be extremely active, as I've still got full-time commitments during the summer, but I'll be around to try to make some things happen. My first suggestion is that while idea-crafting is great, the best way to get the ball rolling is to just rp and make yourselves visible. I haven't seen an orc yet in my time spent running around on the server.

I cannot sign this, or anything, but just to give my Rappy a tip.

Rappy, maybe you can make the waterfall come from the top? Make a little lake perhaps?

Just my thought. Good luck Rappy.

Which circles around the edge of the mountain and feeds back into the body of water in the top-left corner there.

King James sees a sign and chuckles to himself.

"Or travel to the Hightower Bank in Arethor where lusty women and professional bankers await!"

Quintus shrugs. "I suppose that does sound a bit more appealing..."

((Just remember that I was your first and most loyal customer when you open your doors and I walk through))

Quintus takes off his coat and rolls up his sleeves, frowning,

"I hope I don't have to do this myself."

[Does big boy want to use a big boy potty?

:3]

((Where do you potty, the street? The park? Your Pants? ... Savage.))

A notice is placed on noticeboard in Arethor. It is written in black ink, with fine hand-writing on thick paper;

"I seek a skilled tradesman to install a potty in my manor. You will come in, listen to my expectations, and provide an estimate for the cost of your labour and materials. Once the job is finished, I will pay you based on the quality of work. You may leave a short resume of your credentials below, or, preferably, slip it under the door of my personal manor directly in front of the church entrance.

--Signed, Quintus of Julii; Baron of Mourningwood"

Make a poll.

Edit: Yes, as long as the frost witches are real people that may eventually be caught and burned at the stake. ;-)

You are in Arethor: a man paces around, impatiently. You see him speaking to a street urchin, and tossing the boy a silver coin and a handful of fliers. He then wanders out of the city. The boy shouts at first, and upon noticing the man has left, he sits down beside a fountain, and lazily waves a flier around.

... The man walks off a boat in Kal'Alras, shivering. He looks around, and after speaking to a few people, is noticably flustered. He tosses the fliers in the air, and they disperse in the wind. The man walks back onto the ship, and shouts something to the sailor.

By one way, or another, you stumble upon one of the fliers;

"The Baron Quintus Julius seeks a skilled blacksmith to restore several iron tools which have been worn and rusted. Iron may be supplied, if required. Skilled blacksmiths only. All those may send word to His Lordship in Arethor, in the manor directly in front of the church entrance."

((Take note of the locations that I visited before posting. I'm also expecting a little bit of RP; not just tossing items back and forth.))

The heat of the sun eventually allows the pungent puddle to sink into the ground, it hath gone.

But the smell of evaporated piss permeates the air*

[[it's too bad I've also recieved word in game about these before they were torn down, so...

Also the one you torn down was a note sent to the palace directly to me >.> So that don't make sense.]]

((Psssssh fiiiiine. It's not like I bought a pony already and then Ari left to get dinner or anything.))

Buggy, causes tons of lag having tunnels run under cities, and it's just really weird having rails going everywhere.

((Whoa whoa whoa. Don't expect any business if you're cruisin' with jabbernacks.))

*sees the letter and knows he can assist

-he quickly writes down a letter and sends it to the palace in Solace immediately

Dear Queen Kyral,

I Imperial Prince Henry the Second have a fine pony in my stables that I am willing to give to you as a gift. If you would like to talk it over please contact me, I shall either be in Ildon with my uncle Axl or in the Arethor Keep

-Imperial Prince Henry the Second

Bows to Prince Henry as he passes, "Your Grace." He continues on, humming gently to himself. He walks up to the notice-board and tears down his note, and stuffs it into his pocket.

((I'm not just trolling here.))

*Reads the note, breaking into a smile. She reaches into her pack, pulling out a pen and quill, writing...*

Queen Kyral Hightower.

Whether we have met or not, I would be glad to invite you to Hawksong Stables, and view our fine steeds we have for sale. I have a pony what would be perfect for your niece. Not green, no vices, and a great ride over any terrain. I would like you to contact me for a meeting time.

~Titania Hawksong

*She hands the letter to the courier, who quickly delivers it to the Queen.*

((It's a board, not a courier))

Quintus spots the note, and quickly tears it down and stuffs it in his pocket. "God blast, Titania." He walks briskly out of the city and hops on a horse, riding north.

Quintus examines the poster, and ponders for a moment. "So, she likes ponies..." He trails off, gently cupping his pocket containing a coin purse.

This guy built a decent sized chunk of Laurelin. I can vouch for him. Still, I'd like to see screenshots of other things.

I'll be sure to attend. :wink:

Quintus picks up the book and reads the first page. He nods slowly, letting out a mysterious guttural noise, otherwise known as a "mhmm..." He opts to keep the book, but quickly decides that he may be stealing a man's journal. He instead sits down and copies down the material into a small notebook, before walking off.

Sure, why not?

I don't know if this referral will do anything, but have it anyway.

Minecraft name: Alex_Pan

Timezone: EST

What kind of events would you like to introduce to the server?

All sorts. My events will always incorporate as much lore as possible, and have a story to them that makes sense. I’m not talking “Ooooou, I like Stormcloaks/Pirates/Werewolves/Machine guns, I wonder how I could make something up so that they can exist in Asulon!”, but rather finding holes in the current lore, or gaps between a group’s/person’s potential and what they’re doing – and then making an event that suits them. We have so many factions that have potential to stir up events, both good and bad; but instead linger on the outskirts of the map as their player-base dwindles because the faction doesn’t do anything.

I hope to work along-side Loremasters to find ways to implement, and fill gaps in their lore in interesting ways.

What do you believe makes a unique event?

Simply being different; but unique =/= quality. That said, it’s generally a good idea to stay away from cliché events that have been played out. A quality event is one that considers the lore, perhaps even reveals or expands upon it. A quality event is accessible to all people who want to be a part of it, but not forced upon those who don’t want to get involved. A quality event is one that hasn’t been done, but has been thoroughly thought out; both in terms of how it will be orchestrated, how it will affect players and the server. A quality event is one that is not built with an ending – rather two. Every event should be open-ended, and there should always be some sort of possibility for something unthought-of by the planners. People find amazing ways to get through different situations that had never even been considered when people planned the event.

The other thing that plagues me when it comes to events and war-claims is that all the information is set out on the table on the forums. I purposely stay away from event proposals and war-claims just because I don’t want know about them. Simply put, way too much information is leaked out to readers for events to contain any amount of mystery or surprise. Being on the event team allows events to retain their mystery, while at the same time, providing a large enough forum to see how events will play out and affect players from different points of view.

As an actor, what can you bring to the Event Team?

I bring new ideas and enthusiasm. I have so many different event ideas, and I intend to continue coming up with new ideas, and helping other players orchestrate their ideas for events. My goal is essentially for something cool to always be happening on the server.

I want to be able to run smaller events, and help with larger ones. I want for something to always be happening on the server. I honestly just want to get some events out on the server. I mean, read my character’s villain app. He’s not an exciting character, by any means. He’s a ****ing wuss, but he’s out there to make things happen. I realized, however, that my character has an extremely limited grasp with regards to the entire server, so I set out to make more happen.

I currently have three events, two relatively small, and one massive (read as: may or may not be popular), that I’ve written up and want to share.

Let's say your playing as a wolf. Wandering outside of a village, you smell cake from within a bakery that appears to be unattended. Inside the bakery the cake sits on the counter. What do you do and how would you emote?

/setname Wolf

/setbio A raggedy grey wolf with a large round scar on the left side of its mouth. It’s back is a dark grey, which fades into a lighter shade of grey around its stomach and legs. In all, the wolf is at least fifty different shades of grey. The light grey of its paws, however, is mixed in with the dark brown from the dirt. It looks to be about two metres from its snout-to-butt. Its teeth are sharp, and its snout is especially long. The wolf looks vicious when it growls, but overall, it looks skinny and weak for its size.

The Wolf hobbles through the forest, limping on its right-hind leg. It sniffs the ground near a tree for a moment, walks a circle, and lies down. The wolf lets out a soft whimper, unheard by anyone, and tucks its head between its front legs. Its head suddenly shoots up, picking up some sort of stimulus. The wolf begins to salivate, and sniffs wildly at the ground surrounding him. Dissatisfied, the wolf begins to sniff the air around him, rather than the dirt. The wolf follows some imaginary trail, and eventually winds up outside a bakery at the edge of town. The wolf stops for a moment, panting. Saliva slowly drips out from its mouth as it looks around. It hobbles innocently into the bakery, and spots the cake atop the counter. The wolf limps up to the counter, admiring the smell of the air around it. The wolf jumps up, placing its two front paws atop the counter. It pants, its tongue dangling out, looking at the cake, and then around the empty bakery.

Just that moment, an old woman comes bursting out from the kitchen with a broom in hand, “Get back you over-sized rat!” She swings the broom wildly in the wolf’s direction.

The wolf growls menacingly, a bubbly froth dribbling down from its mouth.

The old lady, unphased by the growling, bats the wolf on the head with the broom.

The wolf whimpers, jumping away from the counter, and running as fast as it can away from the bakery, still limping on its hind-right leg. The wolf walks some distance away from town, then sniffs the ground near a tree for a moment, walks a circle, and lies down. The wolf lets out a soft whimper, unheard by anyone, and tucks its head between its front legs.

You're playing as a necromancer hiding out in a graveyard and in search of a relic. Two armor-less players enter the graveyard to revisit an old friend. What do you do to create an experience for them and how do you reveal yourself?

/setname Angris the Bane

/setbio A high elf of about 6’4”. He is extremely skinny, but hides some of his lankiness, and his blond hair, beneath a dark black robe. He carries a very grim expression; unmistakably sinister. He reeks of death, and has more dirt under his fingernails than a mop. He has a strange birthmark on the left side of his forehead, which is often mistaken as a scar.

“Zah Kuh Nah Roh Fu Daaaah....”, Angris, mutters quietly, waving his arms and body in a large clock-wise circle, his eyes focused on the grave. He turns suddenly at the sound of a young man and woman arguing, and hides behind a tombstone.

“Jimothy, don’t you think it’s a little dark out? We shouldn’t be out here. A lot of weird people come out at this time”, a young woman said.

“Ery udder ting in life is dark, init? Ts’only fitting that the entire world is along wit-it, ain’t it?”, replied Jimothy, drearily, as he dragged his heavy boots through the mud, a medium sized yellow leaf stuck to the bottom of his boot, sticking slightly out of the side.

“What does that even mean?”, she replied, a sound of stupid astonishment in her voice.

“Mudder is dead, Cat’rin. Little Rob is dead. Old Rob is dead. I’ve just lost me job”, he trudged through the mud, purposely getting his boots dirty so he could complain about it later.

“Whatever, Jimothy – let’s just make this a quick trip. It’s already very late”, Catherine replied, weary of his voice.

Angris listens on, nervously. He takes a few steps back into the shadows as the two walk past his hiding place. He wipes the sweat off his forehead, and becomes acutely aware of his breathing. He practices several different breathing techniques to find the quietest one eventually settling on very slow breaths with his mouth wide open. He listens to Jimothy drone on, learning more about his life than any man would ever care to know; all the while unable to understand how the woman could possibly put up with him. After several minutes of squatting behind the tombstone, he notices his leg has fallen asleep, and fidgets for a more comfortable position. The fidgeting causes a few leaves to rustle.

Jimothy picks up the sound of leaves rustling, and turns to the direction of the noise, “Who’sit there? Show yerself!”

Angris sighs. He lifts his knees up, and pushes off of his thighs with his hands. In his lowest possible voice, he bellows out, “Your soul is mine! Aaaaahaaaahaaahaaa!”

Catherine shrieks, and faints, flopping back-first into the mud.

Jimothy simply looks at Angris and shrugs, “Okay. I s’pose.”

Angris approaches the man, his right hand extended, as he motions sickly with his index finger for the man to come, “I... Am Angris... The Bane! Tremble before the Master of Darkness!”

Jimothy shrugs again, “Just kill me already, aye? Ts’not like I even wants ta live.”

Angris’ expression turns blank, his voice suddenly rising three octaves, and his hand dropping to his side, “Come on Jimothy, it’s not all that bad. Catherine cares about you.”

“Aye, but she be me sister, laddie. She’s’posed ta”, Jimothy grumbles, kicking a rock to his left with the inside of his right boot.

“A-And you’ve got two kids back home to take care of that love you very much,” Angris sympathizes, tilting his head slightly to his right as if it would give him a better understanding of the man’s thoughts.

“Aye. I s’pose that’s true...”, Jimothy shrugs, rolling another rock, back and forth, underneath his right boot.

“Just remember, dear Jimothy that with every dark night comes a brighter day. Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and all will be well – you just have to find your way out of the dark.”

Jimothy looks up from his dirty boots and locks eyes with Angris for a moment. A single tear rolls out of his left eye, “I... I s’pose yers is right... I really do ‘ava lot ta be thankful for. Thank-ye, Angris. I s’pose I really should ‘preciate life more.”

Angris smiles warmly at Jimothy, “So, you want to live now?”

Jimothy smiles back, “Yer betcha, buddy!”

Angris puffs out his chest, “Then now you die! Muuaahaahaaa! There is no escaping the darkness!”

“Wh-what?”, Jimothy stuttered, unable to grasp what was happening.

Angris raises his hands, and begins to twist his arms, pulling some sort essence from Jimothy’s chest, “Tremble before the great Angris The Bane, Master of Darkness and the Lord of EVIL!”

“Wh-why’r yer doin’ this ter meh?!”, Jimothy yelled out in confusion.

“I am the Lord of Evil, Jimothy! And it is not murder if the victim wishes to die!”, yelled back Angris over the deafening sound of the soul-eating spell. He laughed maniacally, “I am SOOO EVIL! HA HA HA HAAAAAAA-“ he breaks into a fit of coughing, interrupting his spell. He holds one hand over his mouth, and the other extended as a signal to keep away. He recovers after a few seconds to find a stunned Jimothy, “Where was I? Oh right. AAAHAHAHAHAAHAAA!” He returns to channelling his spell.

You're playing as a drunken sailor. You have to tell players rumors of treasure but you must do this accidentally. How would you go about doing this?

/setname Popeye

/setbio A hulking piece of meat; the top of this hulking piece of meat measures 6’1” above the ground. His arms are bulging and fat, but there undoubtedly lies a hunk of muscle underneath. His neck remains hidden by his chin, and his eyes hidden behind his eyebrows. One mole on his cheek grows seven hairs, the longest measuring just over 2 inches. A second mole on his check grows three hairs, the longest measuring about 1.5 inches. His armpit hair sneaks out of the sides of his armpits, even when his arms are by his side - the smell is quite a bit more belligerent. He has four teeth.

Popeye barges through the doors of the Salty Spitoon, already somewhat tipsy. His very unique smell diffuses throughout the room, a smell found to be disgusting by all but the most experienced connoisseurs of body odour. He lifts his chin with his left hand, and wipes the sweat off his neck, and onto the floor, with his right. He lumbers over to the bar, and slaps a note on the bar, causing a tremble all the way down to the other end of the bar. Several drinks were spilled, but no one said a word.

“Three pints o’ y’Olde Maid”, he bellowed. He let out a sly smile, only two of his front teeth visible.

The barkeep simply nodded, walking away from another customer and serving the massive sailor.

Popeye nods, chugging the first pint, and then letting out a satisfied, “Ahh.” He lifts his chin with his left hand, and wipes the sweat off his neck, and onto the man next to him, with his right. He chugs the second pint sloppily, ale slipping down the sides of his mouth, and down his chin and under his shirt. He takes two steps back from the bar, and eyes out the various men at the bar. He lets out a satisfied, “Huh.” He returns to the bar and chugs the third pint, and sets it down harshly, trembling the bar once again. He lumbers over to the smallest man at the bar. He twists the bar stool and shoves his right index finger into the man’s chest,

“Oi, that’s me stool, punk”, he clenches a fist, grabbing the man’s shirt.

“But there’s an empty stool right over there...”, The man points, quivering.

“A smart ass huh? Yer looks like yer wants ter fight!”, Popeye shouts out.

“N-n-n-n... Nay, nay- friend. I’m not looking for a fight”, says the man, trembling; sweat trickling down his forehead.

Popeye releases his grip on the man’s shirt, and looks at him grimly “So yer callin’ me a liar! Huh?!” With a single fist, he sends the man and the stool to the floor.

The man gets up onto his knees, and stumbles out of the tavern, assisted by two men at the door. The rest of the crowd looks on, shooting their eyes down when Popeye turns around to look at them. The barkeep looks at him, and simply nods when they make eye contact. The barkeep continues cleaning out cups.

Popeye grabs the barstool, picks it up from the floor, and sets it up straight. He lets out a large sigh as he relaxes his weight onto the barstool. It collapses. Popeye struggles up from the ground, his legs tangled with the legs of the stool. He gets up, and in his rage, flings the bar stool across the counter and into a liquor rack behind the bar, shattering several bottles, and causing glass and whisky to rain down on the bar. He grunts, and storms off from the bar.

“Ser, you have to pay for that!”, the barkeep shouts angrily.

Popeye grunts; he grabs a handful of bills and coins out from a pocket in his shirt and slams it on the counter, causing several more drinks to spill, before storming out.

The barkeep quickly picks up the money, frowning, and counts the bills and the coins. Upon closer examination, he finds that one of the bills is in-fact a map (Ie., a book with clues).

Create a small paragraph describing a unique event that could provide roleplay for players.

The following is an isolated event among a series of events that I have planned for the goblins.

The goblins attempt to create a super-goblin by combining the appendages of dead people to make a humanoid shape, sewing arms together to form the arms, and sewing torsos together to make the torso, etc. The ultimate plan is to "improve" one of the goblins, sewing him down where the head would be, so that he might control a massive body. They recruit a necromancer to bring the zombie to life; but fail to realize that simply putting a goblin where the head should be doesn't mean that he controls the body like a head. The giant zombie walks off on them and terrorizes the country. Of course, to anyone not involved in the scheme, it's a giant zombie attacking the city - cue doomsayers. People may think the undead are returning, or great evil is afoot while the goblins hide in the sewers - they're obviously not going to admit that they did it.