Watyll

Accepted, welcome to the tribe

Accepted, welcome to the tribe.

THE TRIBE RIDES AGAIN It was a cold and grey day when the Daldriad left their beloved plains of Asulon. They had seen the signs of collapse in nature. Massive storms, floods, earthquakes. For the past month they had spent all their time building ships. They were poorly made atrocities, the Daldriad were not shipwrights. The tribe crowded their nervous horses onto the boats and soothed them with carrots and soft voices, before gathering onboard the ship. Mustang Ghora’Rama stood on a rocky outcrop, looking over his people. They were gathered on the seashore, scattered like leaves in the wind. Then the Mustang looked behind him. He saw the vast plains of his childhood, the place where he, his father, and his father’s father had been raised. His red tattoos stood out in stark contrast to his tanned skin. The Mustang stood their for a time, reflecting. Waiting for a sign from the spirits. When none came, he walked down from the rock and onto the windy shore. His Drel’Khamen fell behind him. Ghora’Takota, Bura’Ghali, and Oros’Tetulan. Their orange blended with his red as he walked by the ships and talked to each family. They were frightened, as he expected. No Daldriad had ever faced the open sea. He listened to their fears, and gave advice, before moving on. Eventually, his path brought him before the Drel’Ulicthr. Five of them there were that day, Bura’Atash, Lalan’Abra, Lalan’Yatar, Agar’Hachan, and Prolin’Bal. They greeted him with cold stares. He had never gotten along with them, and they thought this move was a mistake. Bura’Atash, the oldest and a woman, greeted him with an inclincation of her head. “Mustang.” “Grreetings honorrable Drrel.” “Therre is still time to take back yourr decision, Mustang.” “No. You of all should be able to feel the end, honorrable Drrel.” “We should not be so hasty. What if the storrms pass? What then, Mustang?” “Then I shall guide my people to safety, then rrid myself of you, and go to the side of the Grreat Spirrit.” “Verry well Mustang.” The Drel’Ulicthr strode onto their personal ship, they politely refused to sail with the Mustang. Rama looked to his people, and then got on his own ship. At that signal they too boarded. Then the fledgling sailors hoisted the sails and the ships bore them away. Rama watched as his homeland vanished behind him. Days, perhaps weeks passed. Rama lost all track of time aboard the ship. He was often seasick. He watched the ship bearing the Drel go down in a storm. He watched two of his Khamen die of scurvy and dysentery. This he watched, and then fell into a silence. He waited, and prayed to the Great Spirit to deliver them from the wrathful sea. He and his brother Takota were the only leaders left. Then a shout came from the ship next to them. “LAAAAAAND!” The cry was taken up by the other ships, joyfully. They screamed until the wind echoed with their shouts. All of them grabbed for a look at the land, the land, the land! Hours later, the ships landed on Anthos. Many Daldriad got down on their knees and kissed the beaches sand. Many prayed, some cried. Then Rama got off from the ship, and looked around at his people, beyond proud. He smiled joyfully and climbed on top of a barrel. “Childrren of the Grreat Spirrit! We have made it to land! Look arround you! Hills, valleys, vast distances to rride in. I forrsee a brright futurre for the trribe!” The tribe nodded their consent, there were no cheers. Rama continued. “But...this voyage has not been without harrdship. We have lost valiant men and women. Ourr numberrs have been grreatly reduced. And still therre is harrdship ahead. We must rrestock the horrses, we must hunt. And we must build our camp again. With that the Mustang whistled for his horse, Kalabhora. Deftly he jumped on to it. The men and women did the same. Then he turned his head around to see his tribes, his herd. Their belongings were few. The ships they would leave behind. “Forr the trribe, and the Grreat Spirrit, we rride!” And the tribe echoed back. “We rride!”

THE DALDRIAD Riders of Anthos Link to Lore http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77468-lorethe-daldriad/ Hello and welcome to the Daldriad Guild Thread. It is here that new members may register to be a part of the group. However, there are two different ways you could go about joining the tribe. Read below! The first way one could go about joining the Daldriad is finding us in rp, and joining with an already existing character. You will have to then earn the tribe’s trust and go through initiation. Far more fun than writing a dusty application in my opinion. The second way one could go about joining is write an application for a character who is already in the tribe. This is the faster way to join, but it’s not as fun. The app can be found here: Positions of the Tribe Note, this is not a ‘rank’ system. We prefer players to be consolidated, so we’ve created as few positions as possible. The Mustang The Mustang is the leader of the Daldriad. He manages war, hunting, and the major things in the tribe. This position is achieved by birth. The Mustang is marked by red tattoos. Current Mustang: Ghora’Rama(Watyll) The Drel’Ulicthr The Drel’Ulicthr are the religious and economic leaders of the Daldriad. They are elected in the tribe, and the council can have as many or few members as the tribe deems necessary. The Drel’Ulicthr are marked by green facepaint. Current Drel’Ulicthr: Takala'Sahkonteic(Mercen), Kiowa'Setimika(Morfab) The Drel’Khamen From an outside standpoint, some would call the Drel’Khamen little more than bodyguards. However, this is not the case. The Drel’Khamen guard the Mustang, and share his blood, and his soul. If a Mustang dies, his Drel’Khamen must kill whoever killed him. Only the greatest warriors can be Drel’Khamen. Their devotion to tribe and Mustang must be absolute. The Drel’Khamen are marked by orange tattoos. Current Drel’Khamen: Ghora’Takota (Covcath), Gaz'Jamala(Ski_king3) Men of the Tribe Men in the Daldriad hunt, fish, and make war. They are the inhabitants of the tribe, and are marked by blue tattoos. Women of the Tribe The women of the Daldriad cook, clean, and procreate. However, they are not the slaves of men like other cultures. Daldriad women can divorce, and even run for the Drel’Ulicthr. Roster Watyll Jtpv Spike823 EmeraldStag Megacomet79 Mercen MrSythaerin Ski_king3 Morfab Spiritoftheram Thomascovey Anawkin52 BoxOfDOG Husky Uracow MrGoldd Darkwalker

Move to Accepted Lore for the next stage. Please hold use till Implemented.

watyll No caps

You are welcome to have a cow spirit animal :D in addition, I would love to hear your ideas on more tattoo colors ^.^

Thats what it wants you to think ;)

Move to Accepted Lore for the next stage. Please hold use till Implemented.

The lore team has decided to accept this lore ^.^

The main issue is that doing this is a waste of time and resources, we have 3.0 to launch still, and while this would be fun and possible by lore, we have more important things to focus on, we have to look at the future, not the past.

Returning in a dream or something would be fun ^.^ Could not in actuality do that though.

Now more than ever I consider making an orc. Well done Arteh.

Follow lore specifications. Honorable, and bloodthirsty. You got one down. And I suggest removing trolly rp.

Watyll rides down on his three headed dragon, wielding the ban hammer. He dismounts "MY PEOPLE, YOUR NEW HIGH KING IS...IONMASTER!" Watyll hands the hammer to Ion and then mounts his dragon, flying off once more