Treshure

things are too restrictive perhaps we can make them less restrictive one year later good god there’s a million of these guys around we’ve got to put a handle on this one year later new players join up with dreams and we dash their dreams and we stuff them into

Do mods exist can we just post memes on a ******* roleplay post

I don’t think any of my inquiries into this made it past my admin tenure. A plugin concept to help address this was passed through on a vote, but since the plugin wasn’t a pet project of any tech at the time, nobody cared to touch it. And it’s still an issue. All of the accept/deny ratio numbers are sub 3 figures. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Really not looking good.

People try and make their nations like a master-planned city instead of seeing where things organically go. Staff, usually preceding from nation/group leadership, import the same mindset. Players ought to be able to claim a very small plot of land where they desire, if already unclaimed territory, and receive no assistance otherwise. Their builds should reflect the paltry nature of their beginning. If they consistently roleplay, if there is consistent activity in that plot, the plot size can grow with mina contribution. If they go inactive, the plot starts decreasing until it vanishes and nature reclaims the build (a quick ST builder makeover and some sort of cooldown is triggered). this would give open opportunity to new player groups and fence out fad groups altogether

An old Haelun'orian Antimage ponders over these events, though now long bereft of her power. She remembers a time in Haelun'or where military service was a grave and serious ordeal. She remembers the forever shut gates of Lin'everal. She remembers when wine and spirits were considered impure -- and tea was the favorite past time. And she thought, before snuffing her candlelight in the deep eve, that her Elves of now are just memories of her Elves of then.

"Metaplay" and metagaming enforcement probably wasn't a big deal way back when because the culture of the server was different. I'd get hazed for trying to orchestrate things OOCly, power structures shamed people. It's been a steady erosion. Sure there's instances like Mog buying people steam games for IC loyalty, but it just felt different back then. I have never ******* heard of people actually trying to buy IC items with OOC cash, not even as an Admin, that's for sure. Cat's out of the bag on this.

♪♫♪ Written by Elwë in the Deep Cold, Year 229 of the Second Age ✧ ⥼──────────────────────────────────────────────────⥽ ✧ Greetings, and good tidings to my kin, near and far, In this document you shall find the mind and spirit that binds us together as the Almenodrim, this far tradition that has passed from deep history into our present time. Not long before this document was the ancient fortress of Eldalondë rediscovered, and our brothers and sisters returning far abroad to take union in strength again. But the years have been long - our trammels grievous, and the common links that once bound us found frayed and disparate. This is one effort in surely many to come that attempts a binding resolution – an account of our character, and a review of our past. This is as I have remembered - far back into Anthos, and further yet my ancestors still. For who may take full stock of our being, who can turn every page unspoiled, if not Malin the Father himself? ✧ ⥼──────────────────────────────────────────────────⥽ ✧ THE NATURE OF THE ELVES The Almenodrim’s perspective on the body of the Elves, and their very nature, finds itself at odds with the rest of their Elven brothers and sisters. It is enough of a difference for even spiritual and religious separation. The Elves of the Almenodrim hold that the Elven body and nature is not merely physical, but qualitatively different and other, possessing a unique role in the Descendants that must be fulfilled now and even into the ending of Time. Many Elves hold the belief that they are doubly cursed – firstly with the lack of abundant offspring, but more importantly the “curse” of longevity, regarding that the stretch of life only imparts insanity in the end. The Almenodrim see this view as infantile. All events for the Almenodrim are measured in Time, and they see the Beginning as most consequential - telling of their nature, their purpose, and belaying their fate for the future. The Enemy, Iblees, split the four Brothers apart and into separate races - but it was done in vain, as are all things done by the Enemy, for everything in Iblees had found its uttermost source in the One, whom some call the Creator, and nothing can be achieved in His despite. So it was that the Angelic host beheld the four sons in pity, and redressed their wounds. Not merely to offset this demonic hurt, but to turn their tears into wine, where selfishness and altruism are reconciled into Love. This is our ultimate understanding: that blessings are not understood without grief, that good is not realized without the evil it must triumph over. The Elves of the Almenodrim believe that if it was Man’s destiny to ascend to the Seven Skies, and thus be free of burden and to shape Fate as they will, then it was Elven fate to inherit the earth and adorn it. And by four separate directions, where the racial blessings takes our peoples thither, all functions shall in the End work into greater glory, which the Enemy has not imagined. We Elves are bound into the circles of the world, and are loath to remove ourselves from it, knowing more and loving more than any other Descendant in the living earth. Where others lust for spoils, We love them not, and where power is praised We are removed. For the haunt of our people is within the world itself, and we take love for things begotten - the incandescence of the stars, the verdant fields, the secrets of gemcraft, the love of breathing things. They are all of themselves alone and set for our habitation, and were not without us in the Beginning. ✧ ⥼──────────────────────────────────────────────────⥽ ✧ THE NATURE OF THE WORLD The Elven soul endures over the lifespan of the Earth; yet slain we may be, and slain we shall be. This is the necessary separation from the ideal of the One and the practice of life as an Incarnate: that The Elves indeed hold that all things shall work unto the One’s ends, but though evil is an expression of His thought, it is entirely without Himself – pride stripped from glory, ambition stripped from grace. The Elves cannot see whither the story goes, and must confront the reality to which their soul has been embodied. By this their worship of the One is seldom, and secret, done in thought and private – for no solace will pass until the End. But until the End, the Elves have received their charge – gifted by the Angelic host after Iblees’ defeat, confirmed by the One. And they have taken love of the earth, rejoicing in its splendor, arising to make fair things fairer. Malin the Father was lifted above all others, and some among us hold that his very song held the power of creation. In our tongue it is Quetta Laica, or Men Talyina, a linguistic derivative of san’taliyna. Flowers sprung where he ran, and laughter was in his hair, and he is gone for ever. But the Elves of the Almenodrim perceive that it was he who first struck communion with the Earth, learning their secret languages, and passing its magic unto the Elves. Magic, by reckoning of the Almenodrim, is split in two categories: curwë, arts of skill, craft, communion, and fellowship, and núlë, the exertion of spiritual energy into a lower mode of form, which is the physical world, in an attempt to dominate matter. The former finds its home in love and friendship – it does not coerce, but cooperates, and by mutual bonds a goal is achieved. The latter is inherently diminishing, and results from an urgent desire to shorten the distance between a perceived goal and the desired result. This lust for immediacy withdraws its toll from the Elven fëa, or soul, and is indicative of spiritual taint. Very few “magics” as many understand it today fall under curwë. Troublesome is the Void, and troublesome even yet are many of the Angelic host. If they once freely gave gifts to the Descendants, they now do it not, and in exchange for the oath of the fëa they transmute spiritual power into our lower mode; the masses are ensnared in their umbra, offering themselves as thralls. For no high liege shall suffer Power to depart from Them for ever, and the unwitting exchange overlends the subject on behalf of his Master, who controls his fate. But if the heart of the Elf is courageous and brave, then they shall love freedom the better – taking heed in one another, hearkening to each other's wills, and singing in accordance with all living things. ✧ ⥼──────────────────────────────────────────────────⥽ ✧ THE NATURE OF OUR PEOPLE The aspects of Malin, through his sons and the wellspring of his culture, are well present within the Almenodrim today. Sylvaen and his sons carry the fractured personas of the early Elves doubtless, but so do all who acclaim that ancient culture – when the Elves were young and in their power. The many sons of Sylvaen strove in their domains, and in each of their likeness was a special care for the Earth. Where one preferred craftsmanship and smithing, the other minstreling and the wide spaces of the Earth, and through this all domains of the Elven blessing was realized. The children of Sylvaen grew swift in the young world, and the light of Malin was ever yet on their faces. The world was green. Silver lamps hung from the first spires, and trees were like mountains. Though the world is changed for ever, Elvish memory persists, and in their hearts they hold love for all things which contain a glory hitherto unknown to the rest of all sentient things. In this time all of Malin’s children were at one, and he reigned with a smile. But those times are gone, the world has gone crooked, and we are left. Neither are we blameless, for Sylvaen himself had been ensnared by a spirit of Iblees, its vessel as a sword containing evil, and it bidding him do evil. And ill deeds indeed – the greater part of Elven unity was slaughtered in his home under ambush, and in his monstrous Kinslaying the entirety of our kindred was scattered to the wind. In this the Archdemon dealt a second mortal blow to the people of Malin. No more than two full Elven lives have transpired since the last record of the Elder Days, yet we are now many generations removed, by weapon and by torment and by grief. But even if an Almenodrim were to escape Death, we often refuse to leave the places we love. This marriage to the land is our adornment of the earth. When the worlds change, and have changed since Aegis, they are forsaken and forgotten by mortals. But the memory of the Elves is keen and mastering, and in their minds they find themselves lost in wakeful potency – the memory of their kin lucid and present. The Elves of the Almenodrim thus embalm as much as we adorn. We heed the haunt of our ancestors, and love every natural thing that passes from one land to the next, and in this act their memory is never forsaken. This is a sweet curse – that our memory shall never dwindle, and remain in places for ever gone, though the land beneath us grows old and more settled in each passing year. At last when the Earth is old, and the End is near, we shall yearn for the gift of Men and not find it, and only in our memories will unstained colors bloom. Yet some among us believe that there is indeed life beyond Death. By núlë they may be called into eternal service, but better that through communion with the earth they will slip into an evergreen realm. This place we call Elvenhome. But even this respite, by one or the other, is placed within Time, and still approaches the End, and the addressing of all things. By this hope we are reconciled with grief. This we hold that we must go in sorrow, but not in despair, for we are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them there is more than memory.

If we're putting all jokes aside and going pure LotC history, it is going to be Ser Peter Chivay. He and his brother formed the White Rose and was the tip of the spear for the establishment and expansion of the original Orenian Empires. This was during the height of the Dwarves, the OG eras of the Flays & Teutons, and they still were massive standouts. They came back in 2014 after the Exodus to form the Third Orenian Empire simply by showing up, a 200 man rally materializing out of nothing. The reason why Oren as a name is as recognizable as it is owes largely to their exploits.

I'm going to be within my means to resume making videos this year, so I figured right now is the time to lay the groundwork. My final project before leaving years back was a video series on "The Duke's War", which took months of preparation, including getting skins prepared, interviews with older players, recruiting actors, acquiring old builds, etc etc etc. The reason I hadn't made a video like that before, and why I got so tripped in the process, is that it seemed to me a much larger undertaking than a city showcase which already took a while to make. In the end, the script I had for that video over relied on my first person anecdotal experience so much so that it felt vain and flat, despite the preparation that went into it. To me it seems there are two ways to go. The first is conventional: lay out facts and events from both an IC and OOC perspective, using your OOC personality and all-encompassing perspective to draw on 100% of what happened. The second is something that I've thought about recently, where the research takes place from an IC perspective and character, and compiled solely through in game characters/means, posted on the forums, and then presented through video format as a dual release. These two paths, stylistically, seem irreconcilable. One is more casual with an OOC personality at the forefront, covering things topically - and while interesting and genuine "meaning" can be imparted from the story, it's hindered with a sky-high overview of the subject at hand. The other is a purist approach that can leverage an in game, IRP atmosphere for heightened immersion and "realistic" retelling of events, but an IRP narrative in video format can get real corny real fast I think. I'm just curious what you guys think. What do you think should really be included in these videos? What kind of lens would be most interesting to you?

This map looks kinda crazy, Bob!

Deafened hooves coursed along the causeways, routing from high Lemonhill unto the rolling hills beneath the Abbey. Its horse bore two riders, and if gleamed through by easing rays of sun, saw that it was an Elf clutching the bound armor of a Man, heading far and fast away into the dim forests that lay between the stretches of Burgundy and the other human realms. For Elwë was on high errand by King Tiberius, Lord of that land, and was loath to remiss another day before he made his destination. They followed the course of the pontifical armies — tracing the worn track of rank and file, as they too had once made their way across the bridge beneath Lemonhill and snaked across the hills and into a prevailing forest beyond. There the pair found their object, and rode into the still standing battlements that presided over the fields of battle. ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ☾ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ “These are the lands where we lost great men,” said Sakis Moreno, who had taken Elwë’s bidding and delivered him to the battlefield. “Tread on them with respect, for foe and friend alike were warriors til the end. Even if they did surrender like cowards, they fought regardless.” Elwë peered at the palisades and embattlements as the two settled into the place, camping beneath dark and somber eyelids. “Aye, for the deed is finished in Death, and all bonds therein are released. I know this well, and will not lower the memory of the dead.” And he wondered how his paths had delivered him here, and in his heart he thanked Meriwa for settling him across the river valley of Lemonhill, and Sakis the warrior for rendering him unto the fields. ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ☾ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ Elwë called to some of his brethren, who had come into this country en route to high Numenost, and some were imparted to aid him in those days. They set about their work into the growing twilight. And as the gloaming sunk deep into the land, they shifted and disappeared, moving as quiet Elves in a forsaken place. Pale figures in the shadows shifted between dripping forest gloom and dug the graves of battled men, taking no heed for their rank or side, laying cairns and markers. Highest of which were laid for the Captains, of the fallen enemy or otherwise, who led their folk into the trammel of battle, clad with song and ending in blackness. Their banners were collected and washed into the river, and they named the river Lendotyelma, and the banners were folded into the cairns and wreathed with budding flowers, and the land was hallowed. But when the stones had been mounted and the cairns finished, the shadowed figures took amongst themselves and gathered in the rising dawn. Soft song arose among the minstrels of the host, whereas others stooped among the graves and wrote in their own native tongue, weaving runes and blessings into their habitation. What the text held, none knew, but for the fair music that lingered in the air, and the lilacs and flowers planted where there had once been spilt blood. The unseemliness of the place had mixed into the night, and in pale moments of silver moonlight did the field reflect the noble stature before its marring. And they knew that Elves had come to this forest and field and left their touch.

Yes, nations cease to exist. Yes, people quit because they're dissatisfied with the results. And unfortunately, yes, this has been weighed over ten years of role-play and the current rules are a reflection of that. What you don't really see are the nations that stagnate and sink into decay. You don't see flagrantly hostile role-play with no release for tension, nor the tone of the server taking a casual and melancholy approach when all consequence has been removed. In a system where people can lose, people will lose, and that ******* sucks. But the alternative is a timeline where we make everyone happy, and by that effort nobody is.

Elwë of the Erendhrim worked in the fields beneath Lemongrass Hill, adorning the dead of war and searching for the trammels of battle. When word had reached of the dissolution of Celia'nor, he had sat down - gazing down the valley and a setting sun, awash in thought for the crumbling of yet another Elven land. To what ends would his kin roam, embroiled in the affairs of mortals and beheld to their suffering? He had no answer in thought, and his heart pained long after his mind moved elsewhere.

This all stinks of roleplay.

Reference this post first: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/244489-call-of-the-sea-in-search-of-the-almenodrim ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ AND TO WHOM THE CALL OF SUMMONS HAD BEEN RECEIVED, AMONGST THE VAST WASTES OF THE ALMENODRIM, IT WAS DULY ANSWERED. ERENDRIEL’S people were vast, and loved the woods and fielded plains dearly, and word fastened quickly to and fro the horse-bound people. The ancestors of their storied pasts were alive, and well, and eagerly calling? So did the sons of Erendriel begin to stir — shifting in their verdant grasses and heeding the stars once again. For the love of light was always upon their hearts, and they roamed steadfast in its direction without heed for the homes which they left. The Sons of Malin in all find little recourse alone. Ever the loneliness and solitude of their curse impress upon them, and ever they seek to renew the bonds with brethren for which time has cruelly torn apart. UPON THE EVERGREEN GLADES DID THE SONS OF ERENDRIEL GATHER, HEARKENING TO ONE ANOTHER UNDER STARLIGHT. Over long months and years did they recall their tales. Some Sons took to themselves, and eased between wooded shadows as phantoms of the past. Yet others drew together, with song and bandy, and filled the forests with silver light and laughter upon their trek. No temperament was spared the call, for all are drawn to the minds of their kindred for whom they hold dear. GREAT SONG DREW UPON THE MOUNDS, AND POETRY FILLED THE WOODS, THE SONS OF ERENDRIEL MINSTRELING AS THEY WALKED – AND ALL THE FOXES AND OWLS AND CREATURES WONDERED AT THEIR COMING. At once they departed the Annonath, the glade of returning, from which all paths of the Erendhrim sundered. At long whiles they had finally reached a surveying point of their desire, mounting it and beholding the cloudless stars that vaulted the sky above. For this they named the green mound ELENONDЁ, star-hill, from which the lights of Sylvaen shone undiminished onto his people. From there in sunken twilight did the far peaks of Numenost glimmer, far and cast away, as one glimpse of promise before the plunge. AND SO BEGAN THEIR LONG WAY. ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ We have been scattered amongst the wind, Aye, the Enemy has thrown us down. He hath hewn our feet aneath our legs, and made our swords long and bitter. Our paths have been long, Our path has been sundered. Where art thou, Sylvaen, Son of the Morning? Thou hast fallen and been ensnared, Your golden hall has turned to grey. Your laughter fails now in memory, O’, who has life to tell it? What places we came and can never come? In leaguered trees, Where oft the spring? Of yellow flower bloom The bluer ocean sings of green Before the sullen doom. And now we draw us forth Ere the call of kin, The sea foam calls, The bird flock draws, To dreams and hopes therein. When came the call of Elves? Where are my brothers nigh? The proudest courts, the silver gleam, For time hath passed them by. ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧ ⥼─────────────────────────⥽ ✧

Magical beings have an agenda. They set out to accomplish a goal and use preternatural means to achieve it. This is why aengudaemon-styled magic groups like the Azdrazi have been in vogue for so long -- you feel like you're apart of a bigger world. I haven't seen a spirited wizard on an agenda since Blundermore in 2013. I feel like voidal mages let the structure of their magic define their character in a rather limiting way. The worst offenders of this are the voidboyz, who regressively pursue power down to its root source. Magic is magic. You are interacting with the realms of the divine, and merely producing a flame should be treated with the reverence it deserves. This doesn't seem to be enough for many voidal mages, and they will bicker over what needs to be balanced and what needs to be boosted while missing the forest for the trees. Give me more wizards. Give me more court mages. Give me some damn flavor around here.

when will you let go and watch your successor stretch and bend the dream of your nation, changing it in strange and sometimes beautiful ways?