Heero

Can we see about getting Tythus to upload the last known copy he had? Allegedly he showed BNK it ages back. If it exists on some hard-drive in storage, it’ll have a lot of old artifacts like Hanseti, Arethor, more of original Haelunor and other notable stuff like NekoDanie’s dragon island, Bellus Turris and the last rendition of Menocress that Dusk & co worked on. I can’t find the status update/post BNK made but he claimed that Tythus showed/let him explore that map presumably when BNK was still on the staff. That would be a real diamond in the rough. That being side, hot FUG. bless your soul @NotEvilAtAll you’re truly a champion of the people edit: https://files.lordofthecraft.net/maps/ The Anthos backup is not the best but for Athera, a lot of the stuff is where it was. There wasn’t too much crazy stuff being rebuilt. Most nations were pretty stagnant in their builds if I remember correctly

“The noose equally is a suitable antidote for the homophile.” Crumena Ilwindior comments dryly, grumbling about something about future generations and brain-rot

worked for the snelves just cross your fingers and see if they get an admin on the payroll

i lost all respect for you when you plagiarized urara’s work

@Kaelan A stained letter would find its way to the hands of potentate of Irrinor. Caked with a thin film of mud and debris, the parcel would reek of dank swampland and peppered with stains of rainwater. Extracting the letter from the hardened papyrus shell would read: “For the eyes of the High Chieftain of Irrinor Lyemar Aureon, I write to you under the dire constraints that have only just come to my attention. I am Crumena Ilwindior, former Arch-Mage of Wyverwn Hold of Anthos and chaplain of the nameless faction who aligns themselves under the true tenants of the Arch-Angel Janus, known outside of the realm of Oren by “Xan”. These actions detailed by your institute and by the governing body of the Silver Council and its cihi besmirch the plight and blood shed by their forerunners and the likes of Prophet Vivyaen, the man I owe my entire tutelage to. Our band, once united beneath a sole banner of the Order of the Golden Lance, ushered prosperity amongst the Descendant-folk and brought forth the demise of the Dread-Drakaar Setherien only with the aid of the Descendants. Decadent horrors brought our once famed organization, rebranded by myself and brother-in-arms, Herun Athna, to great shame. What you see of it, in its feeble and pitiful state are the result of inept leadership at the hands of a corrupt flock of Mali’ame brigands that earnt their political prowess at the hands of the White Rose. Woe be to the Knights of Nine should they have lived to discover that a race traitor who strung their own kind like party-favors from the borders of Malinor were the party granted autonomy of what they wrought. Under the pretense of the charter drafted by the now deceased Lucia Horen and her mentor, Prophet Herun Athna, this band of degenerates has brazenly defiled the accord mandated by what is deemed to be appropriate etiquette. With the absence of any legitimate Prophet, it falls upon myself to intervene and correct the entropy that has been allowed to flourish. The rod is a dog's best tutor. I wish to extend an olive branch in the hopes to remedy the catastrophe that has unfolded and disparaged your realm and act accordingly. Afterall, such is demanded by said decretum. I obsecrate you to permit myself and members of my flock to parlay with yourself as to mend the wrong-doings of these so called lightsworn crusaders, although it should be refrained to refer to these rabble as such. Should you wish to honor my request, I urge you to forward your response to the postal-address included. My only wish is that you do not see to associate or consider ourselves accomplices to this beggarly gaggle of insolent cur. They are a mockery of what many before them strived to accomplish. I thank you for your time and earnestly await your response. Signed, The Sage of Kamees.”

One mentally deranged Elf sees this as a opportunity to spread his own Elven APB to the masses. Promptly dispensing milk to the populace of fencitia

Crumena Ilwindior wreathes at the sight of the missive. “You had one task – I delegated one SIMPLE matter! And still – you cannot deliver.” the derelict Elf howls, tearing at the roots of his hair.

An elderly Elf hails the Sohaer along one of his enthusiastic strolls through the cihi. “What of the children? Have they repealed their outlandish declaration of Elven impunity?” inquiries the concerned Ilwindior.