Caelria

It's nearly impossible to ignore irp. If you can skate past the constant mention of the void's denizens, the mishaps resulting from the void like Ando Alur and the corruption of the countryside into glowing hostile plants spreading as far as the central square of an Elven capital city, and the fact that every other mage including the person who taught you knowing for a fact that these things verifiably exist -- then someone who hates void magic because it's on par with necromancy for the most plane corrupting descendant-wielded force in our world is going to scream your head off about it the moment they see you cast. Void mages are forbidden from and hunted in many places in Almaris, and for good reason. As it stands, seeing what void mages have done I'd be hard pressed not to classify it as a dark magic irp. It's put me off being a wizard for a really long time. You're absolutely right in that you would have to be a 40k Ork to use it without noticing.

Idk man. It is until some green name waddles up and says that your magic item killed all the plants around you or turned them evil, that powerful spellcasting makes the hair on any holy man or druid's neck stand on end, that it corrupts your body into a weak gnarly husk, and that any significant wellspring of voidal magic is a demon summoning rift. If the void isn't evil 40k warp ****, then the ST have done a really poor job of not making it visibly that with the advent of voidal horrors, voidal behemoths, evil void gods, etcetera. This lore is basically unfinished, but it's really a cry for help from the players to see a type of magic that fits with their fantasy of what a wizard is and not like... whatever kind of weird void warlock thing LotC has going since all lore is written and managed by dark mage roleplayers; so I support it hard in concept. Much love for my man Kunuk.

The narrow vision of the Story Team and their proclivity for monopolizing the knowledge of the known systems of the server (ex. Voidal Magic, of which it has been shown that there can be no conventional arcana besides since it would ruin their often 8-10 irl years wasted theorizing about the big black empty that block people draw spells from) will ensure that this lore does not pass, but I wholeheartedly hope that by some divine miracle Joel is smitten with another fit of trademark insanity and accepts it regardless despite the wailing of his leashed neckbeards on the team. +1

Maehr'sae hiylun'ehya

Joseph Brandt, already on return from the rescue of Vortice's people from the Rustlers and the liberation of their keep, assessed the wounded and dead men at his side. To call upon the might of the Imperial State Army for their protection, only to sign with the Dwarves across the world? Had their suffering been for nothing to the people of Vortice -- even as they watched the red coats fight and die for them mere yards from their own gate?

Joseph Brandt recalled the Dwarf's valorous and brutal sacrifice for days after the incident had occurred. He would awake in the night to the pitted screams of the Frostbeard's body overcome with the burning pitch of molten stone, and relive the moments where the bolt meant to mercifully end the old warrior's life flew wide and snapped across the brittle stone. On one particular night like this, mixing the cleansing mandragora afforded to him by the Owynist clinic in Luciensburg in with hot water and swallowing hard, he gripped his own scarring wound in memory. Though not received in the undercity of the Ratiki itself, and instead on the fields above before the doomed foray, it would serve as a brutal reminder of that day until his last day.

The real tragedy of that thread is that my post about the Steam Tank didn't get enough upvotes. What if I were a new player and I worked hard to make Steam Tank lore and it didn't get any upvotes? I'd be devastated. I may have quit LotC and never looked back. You should go upvote it (and this post as well).

Consider if you will the steam tank. As we well know, Urguan has had both a train and steam based ships for some time; and while not ‘easy’, the technology of an armored steam-based cart is still accessible to any capable blacksmith, woodworker, and clockmaker. They can come attached with a cannon or windows for musketeers to fire out of, and would of course require coal and water to function (both easily accessible resources on LotC). I have attached a diagram below to show you how easy it is to make a steam engine work. Simple, really. As we already have horses which can also be armored, and can build wagons and put plate on them, I really see no difference. +1 if you don't mind.

I don't think I've ever once had a positive IC or OOC experience with a necromancer. Positive IC meaning productive, interesting, or valuable to the development of my stories or characters; positive OOC meaning amicable or enjoyable (and not laden with rules lawyering and self-aggrandizing as conversations with necros so often are). I don't think the problem is with the magic. I think the problem is with the players. You've rewritten necro approximately one kazillion times. Every time people hate them. Maybe it's just full of unlikable or frustrating people, dawg.

Funniest **** I've seen all day. Always a masterpiece with you.

The Horde Wanes 8th of The Grand Harvest, 25 s.e. The Horde wanes. The third Elven day of Orcish attack, the third Elven day of Haelun'orian victory. Longboats rowed cross the narrow divide over the light of the rising sun, piloted by the scant remnants of the Orcish Horde. Recuperation was made difficult for the sons of Krug beyond Haelun'or's silver walls, even in the sunny and Mediterranean climate of the Eastern Almarisi Sunsea, when compared to the vast riches of Karinah'siol. As Mali'aheral dined on fresh fish, wine, and olives, drilling in their square that they might be prepared; the Orcish Horde counted their losses and went to work felling lumber and repairing their ships. Many had been lost, and the greenskin army would not soon recover. The Horde wanes. And so when the time came that the orcs were faced with the choice to sail for Krugmar or climb the steps of Karinah'siol, the orcs chose the path of dishonor a third time; enlisting base mercenaries to supplement their cause in the Ferrymen, fighting to attack the innocent without provocation and seek the slaughter of peaceful Elvenkind once more. Under cover of stealth, they infiltrated the Silver Walls on the tail of an inattentive citizen. Dishonorably they crept inside, holding citizens within at sword point before even the city could alert their guard. Through this they sought to avoid armed response all together and strike at the defenseless. They had wandered into a trap. The entry district of Haelun'or, inescapable save by way of its upper gates, stood closed; citizens that could be found were shepherded through to safety as allies were alerted and the Haelun'orian guard rallied. By the time the Orcish Horde, led by ferrymen mercenaries, realized they were trapped; they did so under watch of the combined forces of Haelun'or, Elvenesse, Luciensburg, and Oren. Zelios Viradiraar, Antonius Vilac, Oliver Renault de Savoie, and Evar'tir -- each leading their own respective units -- formed a closing circle of steel about the raiders; capturing the entirety of their forces without a single military casualty. Haelun'orian Sillumir push through to surround Orcish and Ferrymen raiders, 8th of The Grand Harvest, 25 s.e. Elvenessi forces led by Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel assault the Haelun'orian bank as Ferrymen and Orcs hide within, 8th of The Grand Harvest, 25 s.e. Orenian and Luciensburg forces rally in the Silver Amphitheater, 8th of The Grand Harvest, 25 s.e. The Horde wanes. The honor that could not be found in Orcish and Ferrymen hearts was found promptly in swift, reasonable Haelun'orian justice. In battle, no man or orc was felled, instead captured and brought before the court of Larihei for their crimes. Each was tried, and each were executed; those who could not bear the shame leaping into thickets and from high places to escape the Elves' justice. Most were hung, some were freed, one was punched apart by the Elvenessi prince in a burst of light in recompense for his murder of Elven children, and the Ferrymen's leader known under the alias of "Banjo" was taken captive under the right of ransom. A decisive victory. The Horde wanes. On this third consecutive descendant month of Orcish attack, the city of Haelun'or calls upon the peoples of Almaris, of Krugmar, of Sutica. Think! Find honor. Stop this needless bloodshed. Sail not to the isle of Karinah'siol for blood but for peace and trade -- as all descendants should -- for while Haelun'or bears not the desire to see your Horde be destroyed, we shall not hesitate to defend ourselves. Think! Your Horde wanes. Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of the City-State of Haelun’or, in accordance with the Silver Council of Haelun’or and will of the High Elven people

Othelu Orrar had heard whispers of the thousands and even tens of thousands of orcs and Elves, even in the midst of his own celebrations, but could not fathom the tales. Judging from his reports, and the paintings shown, there were somewhere around thirty to thirty five people present at most. Ah, the historian, ever the inflator of numbers: for if the historian were a master of calculus then they would not be a chronicler at all, but instead a mathematician. Whatever made the best story, he supposed, or at least whatever made the armies feel best. He scoffed for the briefest of moments at this new Orenian facet of counting each soldier for a hundred or a thousand men, and went back to his business unhindered. Would that the descendant could acknowledge the lower population of Almaris, rather than clinging to the futile fantasy of fielding tens of thousands at a time. Wishful thinking.

No Honor 13th of The First Seed, 25 s.e. One day. One day is all it took for the orcish horde to nurse their wounds and return to Haelun'or. One day is all it took for the orc to return for Elven blood, without provocation beyond the whispers of their sundered honor and the condemnation of their savagery. On black sails and wounded pride they sailed across the narrow divide; cross pristine waters, for the Mali'aheral of Haelun'or did not covet the Skygods' blessing of protection that they might rest. As before, we were prepared. Prepared for battle, for swinging steel and sundered shields, did Elvenkind march forth -- the uruk seeking to mend their broken spirit through a duel. With pride, their greatest warrior stepped forth to fight; only to be turned away like water on Karinah'siol's shores by the blade of Elvenkind's champion. Running free with tail between his legs, he turned his back on his enemy as the battle raged; seeking respite in a calming snack to mend his wounds before being felled without dignity into the cobbles below. No honor. Despite the Elven victory, the Orcish lust for blood went unsated. Their honorless nature compelled them scramble forward that they might tear away the equipment from their fallen comrade before the body ran cold. No honor. The Elves advanced. Orcish Champion Grog'zniffah enjoying a tasty snack mid-duel, 13th of The First Seed, 25 s.e. The battle, while skewed, was fought valiantly but decisively. Though the Orcs were granted additional bodies that they might supplement their ranks beyond what might constitute a simple raid, the Elves outnumbered them nearly twofold. The Orcish outriders charged forward from the steps and sought to engage Elven forces, expecting slaughter of an undisciplined Elven force... Orcish forces charge the silver steps of Karinah'siol, 13th of The First Seed, 25 s.e. ...but what would have been honorable combat was subsumed by Orcish cowardice as the horde began to lose soldiers to the trained and disciplined Elven advance. As Elf forces marched forward from the silver gates of Haelun'or, supplemented by a handful of fighting men from Oren, the Orcs turned to run. Half their forces destroyed, they made way for the sea - chased by Elven outriders - and unfurled the black sails of their longboats to recuperate once more. Driven into the sea. Human forces aid Elvenkind in the slaughter of the Orcish horde, 13th of The First Seed, 25 s.e. Elven out runners chase away the remaining Orcish forces, 13th of The First Seed, 25 s.e. And so to the orc we say this: what honor that you would come again so soon only to flee, both in duel and on the field of battle, to nurse your wounds before the battle is done? That you would not remain to collect the bodies of your fallen, or bury your dead that we might invoke our great furnaces burning them for you. Be you descendant or beast, that you would flee the course of battle so? No honor. Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of the City-State of Haelun’or, in accordance with the Silver Council of Haelun’or and will of the High Elven people

What Honor? 18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e. It is the nature of the orc to be honorable. Such is the orc's standby. The orc's mantra. The orc's prayer. It is how the green skinned orcs of Almaris have learned to coexist with dwarves, men, and Elves in spite of their bloodthirsty nature. To combat their curse, that the orc does not fight without meaning. That the orc may stand tall and proud as descendant, not monster. That the orc might not be reviled and hunted, but welcomed and understood. The honorable Rex Zhot understood the place of honor in orc society. A Rex of aggression only in recompense to the slights of their peers. An orcish state to rise above their curse. It was with a heavy head the Elves of Haelun'or mourned the passing of the rex, and the expiration of his treatise with their state. That while once these honorable and misunderstood descendants might be unlikely allies on the field of battle, that opportunity would through Zhot's passing fade. The rescindment of assurances of peace between the Elven and orcish people was to be expected, but what the Elves could never expect -- nor anticipate -- of the honorable Rex Zhot's former followers would be dishonor. That these Orcs who once fought on the field of battle as allies would lift their blades not in fair combat, but in uncunning and deceitful ambush against the proud Elves -- once allies -- of Haelun'or without word or declaration. That they would execute our soldiers, veterans of the conflict, in denial of honorable combat for their own lives. That they would watch their isle like hidden snakes, waiting for their warships to sail to meet with their fellow powers of Almaris that they might slaughter Haelun'or's defenseless women and children. What honor? When the orcs raided our roads, they did so without provocation. They sought not conflict, nor accolades. They fought young women, and fled when the Sillumir rode to meet them. For weeks we ran them through the mountains, and for weeks they would hide in caves -- only to show their head to lone young Elves, lost and unequipped. What honor? When the orcs captured Eradus of our Sillumir, they did so without provocation. They asked for nothing and desired nothing, save bloodshed, and so in their blind aggression towards the realm of Elvenesse they seized one of our people in Eradus; killing him remorselessly and without terms. What honor? When the orcs sailed for the peaceful and secluded isle of Karinah'siol, they did so without provocation. They sailed not to sate their honor. They asked for nothing and desired nothing. What the uruk saw was not transaction, or honorable conflict, but opportunity. Spying the delegation of our military's heads sailing for Providence, they sailed quickly to the isle to put siege to the citizens now thought defenseless; engaging in what would, by their design, be honorless conflict. Slaughter of Elven women and children. What honor? The Orcish Horde without Rex Zhot are not only without a head, but without their blessing; committing atrocities and unsound action that befit their monstrous nature rather than that of the proud descendent. The orc did not sail as soldier. They sailed as monster. As greenskin. As the bloodthirsty animal, and not the upright descendant. Something the Elves, once allies, could never foresee... ...But for which we were thankfully prepared. Haelun'orian Sillumir and Elvenessi Leadership join the fray outside of the Haelun'or gates; 18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e. As the orc was driven out to the sea and away from the gates of Haelun'or by its auxiliaries and response from their cousin elves of Elvenesse, they fled to the water in the wake of white warships' sails on the horizon. Chased with blade, and with arrow, driven to Krugmar in their longboats; the High Elves of Haelun'or did not pursue. The Elves who returned, the leaders of Haelun'or, had only one question on their lips as they surveyed the chaos. What honor? Haelun'orian Sillumir chase down a separated Orcish raider, 18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e. With whispers of Orcish alliance with the Trade-State of Sutica, the Dwarves, Elves, and Men stand to wonder what this new axis of deception and evil might have planned; and what forces stand to join them in their warband. To those who would consider; we say this. Do so and ally with the forces of chaos and anarchy on Almaris. To those who count themselves among that axis; the Elves of Haelun'or and Elvenesse want only for your honor to return to you, that we might be spared this bloodshed, and that no more precious lives might be wasted in honorless defense from reckless aggression. That we might finally cease in our asking of that miserable question. What honor? Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of the City-State of Haelun’or, in accordance with the Silver Council of Haelun’or and will of the High Elven people

Othelu spit on the ground, one of his palatial servants scrambling to their feet to wipe it up as he lifted the heavy dumbbell up from its position between his knees. He had the missive read to him rather than reading it himself, so blurry was his vision from illness, and yet still he pumped. "Cult? I think they must've misheard. We're not talking about getting cults. We're talking about getting cut."

You missed the "just like High Elves but" part of all new Elf race submissions, even if you did include the all important and encompassing aspect of them being about one extremely specific defining aspect of nature like water or frost, so unfortunately I am going to have to deny this lore.

Othelu Orrar, though cripplingly ill, has the missive pinned to his refrigerator door.

Othelu applauded from his office. Progress!

"I have to say, I'm convinced this letter was written by an Orenian. Why else wouldn't they sign their name at the bottom? That, or maybe one of my wayward kin living in the country." Othelu said over his steak and eggs breakfast, drinking deep of his ice cream coffee while he gazed over his unamused wartime council. "I've got nothing but love for Oren, but a pact is a pact. What's a Mali'aheral who doesn't keep their word?" "...Never got any of these letters during our war with Elvenesse. Supposing this isn't just Imperial prop, seems the Elves are more content to kill each other than to dance outside of Luciensburg in a bloodless conflict. Then again, I'm not surprised. The Republic could never rally more than five fighting men at a time, so any arrangement that wasn't cowering at the heels of another power for protection must sound more than a little foreign. Feh! Take it up to my cabinet, and make sure no patriotic Elves see this. We've had three fires in the city last week from Elves throwing letters into them."

Nickrocky, you're my new favorite staff member.

The Sohaer pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

Beefeater Nation “The Mali’aheral all have great inner power. The power is self-faith. There’s really an attitude to winning. You have to see yourself winning before you win. And you have to be hungry. You have to want to conquer.” - Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of Haelun’or, 11th of Snow's Maiden 21 S.E. What is strength? Is it muscle? Is it size? Is it power? The humans say strength lies in work. The dwarves in the ability to sustain pressure. The orcs in the power to exert your body over others. But how long have the Elves known strength? How does a city-state like Haelun’or fight a nation three times her size and win without a single casualty? The High Elves know better than anyone that strength is a state of mind. You need a winner’s mindset, and racial purity is for winners. Very real and true to life painting of Sohaer Othelu Orrar after approximately 2 weeks of the beefeater diet. Let it be known that the official state sponsored dish of Haelun’or is and will henceforth be beef, used to supplement the ration of bread allocated to all Haelun’orian citizens as part of their right to good food and living conditions. There is an old saying that you are what you eat, and Haelun’or is a beefeater nation. Top Haelun’orian scientists all say the same thing. There is no better way of building muscle than eating meat. A healthy and well-rounded diet of beef and ale are essential to the cultivation of both a healthy mindset and a healthy body, and Haelun’orian citizens have been cultivating both mass and muscle since these dishes have been introduced into the pool of military and civilian rations. The proof is in the pudding. Haelun’orian endorsement of the beefeater diet is essential to good health, and is suspected by clinicians to lead to a marked decrease in homosexual ideation. For this reason I am henceforth putting out a formal endorsement of the Beefeater Nation Fitness Program, or the BNFP, where every Haelun’orian shall be expected to congregate in the dawn of the seventh day of every Elven week and present for Haelun’or their fitness and exercise accomplishments over the course of the year. It’s time to turn that mush into muscle. To cultivate the strength to bring ore from the soil and forge it into our pure vision of industry and commerce. To pull the stone from earth and create our great and towering citadels. To fell the tree and turn it into great ships for our beloved nation. A nation where every Elf is strong, where every man and woman is a worker and a soldier, and where every soldier is a scholar. Purity lies in both the mind and the body. You cannot have one without the other. Ay’larihei. Ay’Haelun’or. Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of the City-State of Haelun’or, in accordance with the Silver Council of Haelun’or and will of the High Elven people