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Lore Moderator
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About Esterlen

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    works like a demon

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    All sorts of things.
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    Arleth Torena/Othmar de Capua

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  1. Revised as of the 16th of Malin's Welcome, 1593, accounting for the birth of Prince Philip Owyn, his creation to the title of Duke of Corazon, the creation of Prince Peter, Duke of Marna as Duke of Mardon and the death of Arthur Vimmark.
  2. Revised as of the 13th of the Sun's Smile, 1592, accounting for the birth of Prince Peter Sigismund and his subsequent creation to the title of Duke of Marna.
  3. Moon Guard US for WoW and Tarnished Coast for GW2. Haven't played in years for both of them, though, I always think about going back but never end up doing it!
  4. Welcome, my friend! I too am a former WoW and GW2 RPer. The communities are very different over there, but I still like them all the same. What are you planning on roleplaying?
  5. Consequences for players, protagonists or antagonists, who are thwarted, are absolutely necessary for the progression of dynamic role-play. +1
  6. Revised as of 7th of the Amber Cold, 1590, accounting for the birth of Prince John Godwin of Alstion and his creation to the title of Prince of Alstion, as well as for the inclusion of Caius Horen, son of the Baron of Senntisten.
  7. If only they knew how accurate this is.
  8. "It is now."
  9. “Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.” John the First, after the Siege of Rhewengrad, 1537 16th of Malin’s Welcome, 1590 Johannesburg, capital city of the Holy Orenian Empire. The relative peace of another day in Johannesburg was broken suddenly by the sound of armored boots on stone. The dwarves marched into the city, running through the streets, hunting out those they could. Most of the Legion was not within the city, out on patrol. Those few there fought valiantly, retreating to within their barracks. The Urguanites had not brought any falconers with them, and before long, birds flew from the fortress, summoning those out of the city. Before long, they came marching back, even as the Dwedmar pushed out of the city, holing up in a fortress behind the city. Those that would defend their empire rallied in the square, pulling on armor and sharpening blades quickly. Knights mixed with common foot soldiers, the uniforms of the Westerlands company blending with that of the 1st Brigade of the Legion. And mixed in were splashes of color, the tabards of the Kovachev bannerman, and a lone Brawm. The gathered company of men and women marched down the road, swords held at the ready, dust rising from their march. They formed up outside the gates, arbalesters trading shot with the Dwedmar marksman atop their walls. Arrows fell on both sides. Ser Mattington Ironsword looked out from the visor of his helmet at the fortress. The only way into the gatehouse was to kick in the door. Decurion Fletcher braced himself up, kicking at the door and loosening the latch, but failing to put the full force of the kick necessary to kick it in. Legate Ironsword waved back one of the Footmen, Zilas and stepped up himself. He’d lead from the front. He kicked out, the latch rattling just a bit, and then kicked again, the bolts shearing from the wall and the door swinging inwards. Savoyards had joined the defenders, and forwards into that breach surged a few of them. The Duke Renault and Decurion Fletcher ascended the ladder, swearing as they find the ladder too short to allow them up onto the walls. Ser Ironsword engaged the counterweight, raising the gates. The dwarves, expecting a charge, unleashed their explosive arrows and their alchemist fire, all of it detonating ineffectually. The damage done by these powerful weapons was minimal. Fletcher took over the gatehouse, manning the gate and allowing protected volleys for the men and allowing his Legate to join the defending party and coordinate the defense. From there, he directed the coordinated fire of the arbalesters into the breach. As the quivers emptied on both sides, he yelled one command. “Get ready, lads!” Ser Rakim waited beyond the gate. The former squire of Ser Leopold, he grinned wolfishly at Caius, the two brothers in all but blood. Both had been raised to some degree by Ser Leopold, and now both were in the crowd now, trading blows with the dwarves. He’d waited for the crossbowmen to trade their shots and yelled at Caius, “You ready to fight, you little ****?” The Orenians began to shift, like dogs on a chain waiting to be unleashed. And then came the command they were waiting for. Ironsword yelled loudly, “Now!” The men surged forwards, shields in the front taking the initial blows as the fighting devolved into chaos, into hacking and grunting. Rakim growled as he took a hit on the chainmail of his arm. There’d be a bruise there tomorrow, but with a sharp combo of punches that took the Dwedmar by surprise, he beat the dwarf into the ground. No one expected someone to bring fists to a sword fight, but he had, his axe having been given to one of the Legion’s lads. He caught a flash of Ironsword cutting one of them down, arterial spray hanging in the air even as another dwarf cut down the legionnaire at his side. The Legate pivoted and thrust his sword out, catching the dwarf before he could make sure his victim was truly dead, and then being saved in turn by one of the Kovachevs. And then he had no time to do anything but react. One of the snow elves charged him, the seasoned warrior catching him under the armpit and throwing him before bringing a hobnailed boot down on the head of the elf. There was a crunch and then he was fighting once more. Henrik Kovachev looked down on the Legionnaires from his steed, trotting alongside the other cavalrymen from Turov. He returned the friendly nod from one of them before reining in his steed at the order of Andrei, the Kovachev leader having conferred with Ironsword and deciding that the mobility of his unit would be best suited to securing the perimeter. The horsemen galloped off, circling the fort. The Dwedmar took potshots at them, one of the arrows clanging off the helmet of the Vallberg woman in front of him. She tucked lower into her horse as they scouted the fortress, searching for a way in and coming up empty. Andrei steered his steed with his knees, in the way of the Steppe people, bringing up a bow and loosing an arrow at a dwarf poking his head over the wall. He only succeeded in forcing the Dwedmar to duck, but that was one less archer firing at the Orenians. The cavalry company circled around the fortress to rally alongside the other defenders. He watched as the alchemist fire burst, the air in the archway shimmering as it did, scorching the stones. The Doomforged that had thrown it had misgauged the discipline of the Orenians. They’d had harsher training since the last time dwarves had seen the men of Oren fight, and they held the line rather than charging as they had. Henrik tucked himself against the barding of his horse, his cavalry sword held ready. When the order came, he surged forwards, his horse trampling one of the dwarves under it’s hooves as charged forwards. He saw another of the cavalrymen go down as one of the more ingenious dwarves cut the forelimbs of his mount, sending it down and launching the Kovachev bannerman forwards, and killing him as he hit the stone with all of his continued momentum. A snow elf raised a pike to take down his horse in the same way and was met by Henrik’s sword, the flesh of his neck and face parting under the sharp blade, the dwarf belatedly dying as he gripped his wound, staggering before falling as his mind and body caught up to reality. The remaining mounted fighters turned their mounts, prepared to surge back into the lines as it became chaos, some taken down by pikes, other by clever cuts to the legs. The raiders weren’t stupid, at least not entirely so. They were stubborn, they were aggressive, but they knew when they were going to lose, and they wagered that it’d be best for them to live to fight another day, either picking off the lone soldiers as they returned home, or simply by preserving the gear they’d carried with them. They did not break ranks, instead forming into small groups and pushing to the gate, before running together. They would not die alone, were Yemekar or the Creator, or whoever they worshipped, decided to call them to join him. They’d die swinging amongst each other. Henrik could respect that, even as he turned his horse to bear down on a trio of Raiders, the Doomforged who had wielded the alchemist fire amongst them. Andrei cut down the Doomforged as he turned to meet the advancing Orenians, the Doomforged falling to the ground, mortally wounded. He went to rise on his pike, determined to fight to the end and then being beheaded by Kaisa. Henrik cut down one of the snow elves that had been supporting the dwarves, the tall, pale figure raising his weapon to try and parry the blow and being speared on the cavalry sword of the Kovachev. The successful defenders marched back to Johannesburg, longswords sheathed now, bloody armor and tabards adorning weary soldiers. They marched alongside one another, the bodies of their dead brothers carried on their shields or between each other. There was a muted sense of victory. They’d drink to their dead, celebrate their victory, and sharpen their swords for the next battle. ((Credits to Warmarcher for the RP post.))
  10. Sorry, administrators - not buying it! This is an absolute disgrace and you've done nothing except confirm the accuracy of the sentiment expressed in the feedback post. If a business isn't competitive enough to stay afloat on its own, the government shouldn't be obligated to bail it out. If you have 20 players in your base, and you decide it's a good idea to team up with a coalition to make war on a base of 200 players, they should have the right to utterly destroy you. Where you err completely is denigrating legitimate RP, in Oren acting in our national interest against one group which aspires to grow to the point of harming us, as senseless 'warmongering'. I haven't seen anything on this server as disgusting and against the principles of RP as this 'admin response' in a long time. You should be ashamed!
  11. It's funny because it's true. This server has been held back by reactionary staff bureaucrats for years now, and it pains me as an old veteran to see it continue. I've said it countless times before, and I'll say it again: RP needs to be free-form and dynamic. Staff intervention of any kind has no place in legitimate, rule-abiding RP except in some very fringe cases such as rape and pedophilia. I think part of the issue is that staff demographics primarily find their origin in fringe, niche groups, i.e the Druidic clique of Menarra back from 2015. Most people who become staff these days aren't from the large communities, they're not in the thick of it, they don't know what the people want. Their opinion for what is best for the server is so dramatically divergent and far-removed from what the players actually desire to see happen that they're totally unrepresentative of their interests, and in some cases, RP in general.
  12. ((I, Esterlen, hereby acknowledge and give my consent to the OOC rule that should my character be found guilty of High Treason within the Empire, the Emperor personally (and only the Emperor) has the right to execute permanently my character. I accept this condition and make it entirely upon my free will.)) “I swear to be true to our Lord, our Imperial Liege, and His realm, to not be silent in the face of true evil that conspires against our homeland. I swear to raise my blade against any foe, righteous or wrong, against our Lord and our Imperial Liege, to not stand idle in the face of danger. I swear to cast off any traitor be it friend or foe in honour of our Lord and our Imperial Liege. I swear this before God and men. I bid farewell to my former life and grace my newest with my shield and blade; stalwart and ever vigilant for our Imperial Liege. On this, I kiss the cross.”
  13. "This is done under absolutely no legal grounds for excommunication. A piteous power play by wretched clergymen," comments the ecclesiastical scholar, Charles Macdonough, upon reading the writ.