Diri/GreenKoopaBros

Upon seeing a bloody mess of a crumpled piece of paper on the ground, the simple minded Ivar would pick it up. Without even giving it a read, thinking it to be a discarded bandage, would walk to the Smithery beside the, now empty, shop. Frowning, he would toss the note into the fire that blazed beside the anvil before turning and continuing down the path, none the wiser.

"Wastes time". Actually, the new skills plugin, as I have heard, will revolve around "Time". The amount of experience that you earn will be based on the amount of Time you actually spend in game. Meaning no matter how much you chop wood, it will only matter that you chopped wood for and hour or something like that. From what I've heard, no one will be able to call this new skill system "Grindy". Whatever happened to that kingdoms plugin that the Staff used to talk about? Destroying settlements that experienced less Rp population? This is Exactly why people don't want a new Skills System. Right now, they are able to do anything their ooc hearts desire. We need restrictions to keep people in line and in Roleplay. And that whole "But we are in a bad timezone for rp", I find it hard to believe that with all of the people who complain about this, that there aren't more people available within their Timezone.

((I doubt this ball will only last an hour. Maybe you can enjoy it, after all! :D))

*Recently having finished his Tree cutting, for the day, Ivar was on his way home, always being a man of duty, when he saw a new note on the board. Remembering what Titania had said about a ball, he would walk up to it and try to read it. It took him a while, but he finally came to the end, not understanding a few of the words, but he understood enough. Uncertainty grew upon the large mans face, but he remembered how fun the Festival had been. Titania had never steered him wrong, so he trusted her in her word that a ball would be enjoyable. But he still wasn't sure about dancing, he would still go to try and have fun. Looking down at the Potato sacks he had for clothing, he remembered how Titania was getting clothing tailored for his build. He walked away in though, knowing he would need a bath. (Looks like it will be 4 pm, for me. So I will need to get on an hour earlier to prepare! :D))

Stuff like this makes me happy that a Professions Plugin is being planned. Soon, I hope.

After just dropping off another hefty load of wood to the Labor Hall, he was about to return to the Lumber Yard, when a sound caressed his ears, carried by the wind. Blinking, suddenly looking back, his mouth would open, the music being the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Without a second thought, he would run down the path, looking left and right as he was nearly stumbling in his desperation. Upon coming to the Grove, he stood there, staring up to where he heard the music. Ivar stayed still, staring directly to the source of the sound as he felt the music take hold of him, feeling as if it calmed him to his core. Remembering to breath, he didn't move a bit as a soft, simple smile curled his lips. He continued to listen, not feeling so brave as to approach such beauty of music, so he hung back as he listened.

((Is it just me, or did you people fail to read this little bit of rp?)) ( (Meaning any rp of reading it, afterwards, is void and impossible....unless you confront xxx))

Ivar, coming out of the Labor hall, having just delivered his most recent quota of wood, would spot someone walking away from the large board before the Hall. Frowning curiously, he would walk up to it, reading what he could of it, sounding out the larger words, but not able to understand them. But he did understand most of it, and it only made him grin. He knew that he was doing his part, already, knowing this notice was for him. He would walk on home for a well needed rest.

The sound of shouting awoke Ivar rather startlingly. Sitting up in his bed, his eyes would adjust from sleep and see figures running about, shadows, it seemed. He would stand up, making his way to the front door when a fight seemed to break out in front of his house. His large figure shoved its way out of the door, knocking it over, for it had no hinges from his previous bout with it. Upon stepping outside, he was stunned into silence at the sight around and above him. Men, countless men, in heavily clad and shining armor were cutting down Elfs and burning some of the homes in the trees. A sudden voice cried out "We have won, White Rose has won!", and "The Princess is dead!", and reassured Ivar's fear. "No" He said to himself, whispering dreadfully, memories flashing through his mind of his experience with the White Rose. His first thought was to run to the labor hall, to check on the princess, as his mind respected her the most of all of Malinor, but something else screamed into his head "Run to the Gate!". And so his body obeyed, as in on some survival will. His body charged down the path as he barreled to the main gate. He was almost there, when a man was in his way, the enemy. He knew, that even with his mass of size, his spirit wouldn't have allowed him to fight, his respect for all living and preservation of such. Ivar thought that it was all over, knowing that this man was with White Rose and how nasty, if not evil, they could be. But, feeling a hand on his shoulder, the man gave him a sword and whispered for him to run. Ivar didn't take the sword, confused and of no use with a weapon as such, for the mere sight of a sword, sickened him. Ivar hadn't the wits, at the time, to immediately run. The Man screamed to him, this time "Get out of Malinor, it's not safe!", to which Ivar was, again, speechless. How could a man who had supported the White Rose, helped slay innocent and, otherwise peaceful, elfs, be helping him escape. Only when the man left for pillaging, did Ivar stand up. His mind was blank, and he did the only thing he thought to do, he ran. Ivar ran and ran, never looking back. He tried to stop Elfs who were coming up the path to Malinor, but each and every one of them refused, knowing the slaughter that they so uselessly wished to throw themselves to. He didn't understand. Why was all of this happening, why wouldn't they just run away? So Ivar kept running, he ran without looking or caring where he went, until he happened upon a large and eerily quiet stair way. Ivar had ran clear to the Cloud Temple steps, where he finally broke down, breathing heavily from the trip. He began to weep, a large man like him, reduced to a devastated heap on the steps as everything hit him at once. His home, his life, his friends, were gone. He had nowhere to go, now. No job, no food, and no safety. He wept for Titania, for his friend, and especially for Malinor.

The way that I see it, your character can die at any second, because Role play is unpredictable. You have to take the good AND the bad to enjoy the full experience of this server. I have had Three characters die, but I have so much fun Roleplaying them that I didn't care.

Waking up on his bed, not entirely sure where he was, Ivar sat up, looking around. As soon as he sat up, his head exploded with pain, his senses blurring as he fell over onto the floor of his small house. Grasping the wall, he stood up shakily, steadying himself as best he could. He couldn't even remember the walk home from the festival and he had never felt this kind of pain, before. He remembered back to the Festival, thinking about how much he had eaten and drank. He had never drank before. At least, not any alchohol, so he didn't know what a Hang-over was. He sat back down upon his bed, wishing the thudding would go away as he grasped his head in his hands. Groaning, he looked outside, the dim, canopy-filtered, light making his eyes blur. He fell back onto his bed, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep, hoping to sleep off this sickness.

Ivar would read all of the notes, not really to read them, but to practice his own reading. He was able to make out most of the smaller words and, upon finishing, would burst out into full, hearty laughter. As he finished laughing, Ivar would pull a piece of paper from his book before dipping his quill and writing four simple taunting words. These words were not perfect, as if a child had written them, but they were deep, as if written by a strong hand. "You go, Ivar Stay." Continues to walk down the path, still smiling. "Elf want change, but elf leave." Renews his laughter before returning to his work.

Waking up, sitting up on his bed, he would put his hand upon the bedside table, using the other to rub his eyes. Hearing something rustle, feeling the bend of parchment under his hands, Ivar would look down, spying the parchment that lay on the table. Furrowing his brow, he would pick it up, looking at it. He tried his best to read the paper, but his reading skills only allowed him to read most 3-4 letter words with little trouble. He did try to sound out the bigger words and grew to slightly understand the note. Looking to the empty doorway, He would stand, wondering what more he do with the note. He knew that he needed to find someone he knew and trusted to help. So, stooping out of his doorway, he ran to the Labor Hall, calling "Ms. Titania"?

Sitting in his house, clear on the opposite side from where the after war celebration was being thrown for Malinor, Ivar would stare down at the ground. He was silent, his whole body hurting, not from pain, but from severe depression. He had been crying, but couldn't cry anymore as he had seemed to cry everything out. He spoke to himself through gritted teeth. "Ivar no fight, Ivar no big and strong, Ivar small, weak." He would stand and, pulling his fist back, his eyes would blaze in anger. Screaming, he would throw his fist at the front door of his small home. There was a crack, but not of bone or of hand, but of wood as the adrenaline/anger powered, hamsized, fist exploded through the door, causing it to fall off its hinges and land outside of his home, creating a disturbed cloud of dirt as he turned back to his bed. Collapsing onto the bed, he wished death upon himself, as his anguish lulled him to sleep.

Gasping loudly before sitting upon his bed in the small house was was clearly too small for one of his size, the orc-sized human of dark skin had been awakened from his deep sleep. He was in a cold sweat, his breath deep and labored as he had just had a dream- Role play note: The dream was about what just happened in the post of this thread, of assembling of troops by Polgrath. Ivar felt scared, terrified that he knew he could do nothing for the upcoming attack. It laid heavy upon his heart, heavier than any weight he had lifted in his existence in this world, and it truly scared him. He was so unsure as to the safety of his own life, not understanding part of the strange mans speech of his already slowly fading dream. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had yet to feel in a dream, before. As he finally calmed himself, getting his breathing under control, Ivar would lay back upon his bed. But, he would not sleep, but merely stare up at the ceiling, so many thoughts, simple as they were, running through his head.

A dark human sat at the wall that cornered the shop that existed right of the main gate, staring down at his book that he had be writing in before Elorna had started to speak. As she finished, he silently wept, large tears falling down onto the pages of his book and forcing him to close it. Even for his size, and all of his strength to match even that of an orc, if not more so, he knew that he would never be able to fight in the battle to come. It was certainly a sight for those who saw such a large man weep, but there was no help for it. His body was hard, but his heart was soft as mush. Staying quiet, he merely sat there, continuing to look down in shame as he kept to himself. He didn't understand such hatred, such sadness, and such talk of violence, and he neither cared for it, nor wanted to think about it.

Oblivious, again, with his simple mind, a large dark human made his way out of the main gate. He had been confused as to why the gate that leads to the Lumberyard, his working ground, was Baracaded. But, he remembered what Titania had told him, about an impending attack. Ivar, being the mans name, was still not sure as to why such a threat was looking over such a beautiful land. He didn't know much about anything, especially the political grounds of Malinor, but even he could feel something in the air. Pulling the fishing nets from his shoulder, as without his work, he needed something to do to keep his body busy, he would lay down one on the shore before staring out across the lake. He could see the bridge that laid beneath the water, fallen and in disrepair for the rumored attack. He pushed these thoughts of doom from his mind, as he was good at, and would toss a net into the water, watching the other end sink. Sitting, the Net tucked into his large left hand, he would pull a book and quill from his pack. The Ink bottle sitting upright, Ivar would open the book, containing various scribbles of the Alphabet and small three lettered words, made by him, and he would begin writing, practicing his lessons whenever he could.

Whatever happened to that announcement that told us about a skills plugin that didn't have weapon skills in it. That would be rather neat to have, wouldn't it? Without the skills of battle, there could be more skills in their place. Like skinning, to get more Leather from cows, or butcher, to get more meat from animals. Whatever happened to doing that? That sounded like a very stable way to present Skills into the server.

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/wiki/wikka.php?wakka=Skill_Information This again! Oh please this again! Pretty please with sugar on to-hah-hah-hooooop! DX