Treshure

Wanted: A pair of bandits.

Threat level: Easy – Medium

Suggested party number: 2-3

Description of beast(s): A duo of bandits have been on the rise after the robbery of a poor peasant, Hobs Gullyworth, outside Carolustadt. They are armed and dangerous. Inquire with Hobs in the small village outside of Carolustadt. Perhaps he has more information.

Location: The woods around Carolustadt. 

Rewards: What meager mina the peasant can procure.

Bounty completed. 

Someone who has the drive to make events outside PEX is few and far between. After reading the application, I like what I see. You got my support.

- THE ATLASIAN BOUNTY COMPANY -

• Wanted: Druid of the Wonkawoods

• Threat level: Difficult

• Suggested party number: 3-4

• Description of beast: Infused with the power of the Elven Mani, this Druid is very dangerous. He has been seen dragging away wildlife and even Descendants for living sacrifices, only to retreat into the savage Wonkawoods in refuge of his sorceries. The Wonkawoods is an extremely dangerous territory, near to the September Prince. Approach with wit and caution.

• Location: The Druid resides within the Wonkawoods. The nearest settlement rests atop the mountain at the wood’s edge.

• Rewards: Various unique items and relics, as well as one thousand mina.

Thexan reaches out beyond the emerald sea,

“elite snipes.. why have you turned.....”

Hello, AGiantPie. Though these circumstances are odd, I’d be more than willing to lend you out my wife. Contact for more details.

if I can't have it, nobody can!

easy fix to the problem. call this friend of mine:

https://www.ice.gov

“Proclaim your neutrality all you like. Your government propped up Caerme’onn pretenders as soon as the prominent members left for Gladewynn. Your state bleeds; the fright is evident in every word of this missive.”

says Brutus, scribe of the Enclave.

14 minutes ago, Publius said:

let me be the first to suggest a mike duncan approach rather than a dan carlin theatrics – unless a powerful voice actor or narrator is at play

think Joe Rogan but mineman history

One of my most favorite memories as a noob was sitting in TS, listening to veteran players recall famous battles, events, or just fun **** that happened in the past. Always sparked my imagination and kinda made me look through their eyes.

So what if I put that in a “podcast” format? It wouldn’t be formal at all, and the conversation would be loose. But the general idea is to bring on some veteran players, shoot the ****, and kinda go over the stuff they reminisce on and remember about. Might be fun to listen to and there would be interesting things to learn about past LoTC events from firsthand participants.

Interest check. Thoughts?

Make an RP post, there will be others who’ll take you up on the offer. 

Minecraft Account Name(s) Treshure

Discord Treshure#1981

How long have you played on LoTC? Since Anthos.

Timezone and Availability PST - hours may vary, definitely more available on weekends.

What lore are you versed in most?

While I'm familiar with magical lore, I am more interested in the cultural aspects of the races. Human and elves, specifically. Be it religion, culture, history, etcetera.

Give a summary of any staff positions you have held on LoTC

GM for two months, Fringe.
AT for one month (before GM promotion), Fringe.
ET numerous times over the years, including now.

Have you ever written lore for LoTC?

I’ve written some official plant lore way back when. Otherwise, no other official lore. I have, however, written a plethora of both cultural posts and event posts that draw upon the lore of the server. Other posts are simply role-play flavor, but I hope they convey the writing skill you’d expect. Some examples below.

I like writing, and I like lore. I don’t have a history of submitting official lore, but I do have a surplus of experience be it as a player or ET. Even if the ideas are not my own, I’m good at fleshing them out and presenting fully developed pieces. As a player since Anthos, I’ve got a mind for good and bad ideas, which could help on voting loremags and whatnot. Overall, I think I could benefit the team.

Have you ever received a blacklist or ban?

I've gotten banned a few times for pugsy and alting. Once for X-ray. No blacklists.

Who do you not get along with on the Lore Team?

Think I'm good with everyone!

“I am the blood of the Aldersfolk; I alone invoke the name of Old Gladewynn. By my rite, the Seven Songs will sing again.”

 Kairn, Prince of Alders

Woe to Elvendom, for your sorrows run long and deep. Your fathers did not inherit this legacy of tragedy, but rather witnessed it on their lonesome. The terror to remember is fresh in the eye that beheld it. May your sons and their heirs remember now and evermore; it is all that remains within your power. The elves of yore remembered their elder lands as the green kissed paradise the Gods had lent; emerald hues and souls to enjoy them forever. These elves now lie beneath the ground. The living descendents of Old Gladewynn remember otherwise.

”Histories of the Alderfolk”

–

The Wardens were said to be a once powerful army. Brought from the plentiful lands of Elvenesse, they drew the collected strength of a united Elvenkind: boundless and terrifying. In those days that Malin walked the earth, Elvenesse was pure and true to their purpose. They, noble as their racial cousins. But those days are no longer. Cursed is that Demon’s tongue, who is called Iblees: by his words, Elvenkind’s light fades.

Sewn into Mali culture was the excess of life. The elder elves were buried far into the droves of forests and wildlands, enjoying respite from churning tides of war that engulfed the rest of the world. They spread far and wide from Malinor, drawing from the earth druidic powers to amplify nature’s bounty. They drunk evermore on the lust and comfort their lengthy lives afforded. The elder elves sat, fattened, and weakened. What was a proud bastion of the Wildlands sunk into pits of depravity. The Great Tragedy loomed as a hidden beast; each act of wanton ardor and surplus fed the unconscious nightmare stirring aneath.

In these days, the power of Humanity was nascent. Yet it was clear the strength of Horen and his sons grew. Soon, their ever expanding eye turned to the sleeping state of Malinor. Rich, old lands ripe for the bounty; wicked elves bound for the cross.

Purple and coal banners, the Black Dragon, the White Rose.

Armies forward, the cross alight, the Crusade set.

Forests afire, wails, woes.

The Sack of Malinor had begun.

A black drudge settled above the sky, blotting what perfect blue hung above. Smoke billowed from the Eternal Trees of Old Malinor; screams of doomed souls to sing amongst burning embers. All along the carnage lay the banner of the Black Dragon, that who smote the elf high. An Imperial presence hung there for it's first and it's last: decimation followed the Black Dragon, and none remained. No secret or ancient wisdom was saved reprieve from those consuming fires. Butchery was set upon ancient elfdom with little to escape. Within this chaos, the founding clans convened.

When the news had reached Har’el and his kin, few were surprised. Elvenkind had remained scattered for nigh centuries. The home of all mali, Old Malinor, laid bare and exposed to the eastern Kingdom on her fringe. They came by many names, though all will remember them as the Rose. There was little time to act. Summoning the strength of the Ichorian clans, Ithelanen led the Alderfolk into battle.

What hopes and ambitions laid in defending Old Malinor were utterly destroyed. For every elf fought a dozen men, pouring in droves with the fire of their god inside steel helmets. The native elves were distraught, relying on the ancient powers of the Druids and Mani to defend the city. Great roots tore from the grounds below. Rifts to rend the land asunder; beasts of the wildwood to defend what remained. It was not enough.

Ithelanen retreated from the front gate’s breach.

Vanethelan’s numbers reduced to almost nothing by the Emperor’s own western sally.

Corrin retreated to the city’s rear by a retinue of Carrion.

The remaining four clans, split and pushed by the White Rose.

Half the day had passed before the defenses were nearly overwhelmed. What remained of the Ichorian clans coalesced in the city’s rear, mounting in sum of their strength a final defense. They surrounded a massive stone known as the Aldersrock, preserved since the ancient times of Aegis. It was not enough.

Utterly driven by the assaulting forces, the Ichorians fled southward towards the secret exitways amongst the the Southern Walls - obscured in vision from the Imperial assault. There they climbed cliff and tree, losing their attackers and gaining both ground and safety. Turning, they could not imagine a sight as this.

Malinor burned. A thousand times they had looked on evergreen pastures and comforting woods - only now to see the dread and black consume what souls lived beneath. Their home set aflame, and all was lost.

There, the Ichorians mourned. Their fragility was shed; their hearts turning cold as tears dried on elven cheeks. To each clan, a song was sung  - seven voices in haunting harmony whilst Old Malinor fell to ash and flame. In this time, Old Gladewynn quickened within the womb of Malinor, birthed on His mother's dying throes.

No Malinor forthward would be recognized to the Seven Clans - it had died that day, buried amongst the rubble and sins of dead elves. Old Gladewynn was created in the wildwoods; the old forest far from Man - far from anything. But there would be one last return to Malinor.

In the ruins of that city lay the Aldersrock, stained with the blood of Ichorians. Those of Ithelanen took the stone, hauling the relic to their young settlement. There, the Chieftan of Ithelanen would proclaim himself ruler of this stone, its history, and those who bled upon it - that he would become the Prince of Alders, and all beneath the Aldersfolk.

Thereon the stone was inscribed with the histories and songs of Old Gladewynn. By it, all would know their past. All would sing the Seven Songs, just as their ancestors had in years past. In time the stone would fade; sections of inscriptions would wipe - and with it, their histories. The Seven Songs and her clans were partially lost, though not forgotten.

--

When the light settles, seven fires are lit. When elves mourn, seven songs are sung. What forgotten magicks were birthed in Old Gladewynn, only the dead know. What ancient spires and Old Gods of the wildwoods - what hymns, and lovely things, and the dead and black things - our mysteries, our heritage, and the Songs that bound us all together. The Aldersrock alone shows.

Been saying I’d do this for a while. My work has ended, so yeah, esketit. You got my Discord, Zhulik, shoot me a PM. You too Temp

1 hour ago, Sky said:

“The Dominion isn’t involved in this, besides I concede to Artimec.”

Toren says simply, walking off.

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

Genuinely disappointed in the messages thrown at me. If role-play makes you so upset to the point that you think it is acceptable to treat someone else like less than a human, then get the **** off this server.

 

((If a member of our player base did this, I would like it if you could add me on Discord and talk about it (Treshure#1981). We we’ve put out community guidelines, and we take keeping things RP seriously. Would like to sort this person out. Thanks man.))

An ancient Caerme’onn stirs, ready to annahilate the usurpers and pretenders of his beloved Seed.

oh my god

Has a thorough understanding of ET and RP dynamics with the history to prove it. No brainer addition. +1

His experience speaks for itself. Would love to work with him on the ET – well worthy of the PEX. +1

PREVIOUS EVENT

In the cavernous depths aside Carolustadt, an Imperial retinue follows the tips of an anonymous letter. Rumored to be the seat of the Imperial Cult, the soldiers move forward and quell what defenders lay inside. In the wake of the carnage, it was not cultists they killed; rather, members of their own – Heartland soldiers moving envoys of gold and silver. In the rubble, they find a book – a burning eye to adorn it’s cover. The first page speaks thus,

Why are you here?
What do you fight for?
Finally, do you enjoy hurting other people?

What were you hoping to find here, flock of Horen? Was it quick and easy butchery - resolution to the mental crisis our Creeds have prompted? Was it the satisfaction of your innate lust for bloodshed? As we have asked: what are you here for?

You have nothing to fight for. The prayers you murmur at each dawn are begrudging as the last; homage to a God that has purposefully omitted his presence. Instead, he has placed his Spirit and consciousness around you - and you have refused it's very existence. All races and nations will place their zeal in a deity that responds. As much disgust as We place in elves, orcs, and onward, their lives revolve around the gods they hold true far more than any son of Man.

You will pay lip service to the Creator before slaughtering in his name. You will justify your wicked and wretched souls by the divine will of one that has never spoken to you. You will absent mindedly acknowledge the supreme God above all aenguls and daemons whilst pursuing selfish desires and ambitions. Your faith is dead.

Your life is in service to the Creator. Your wills and wants are bound to Him alone. We are not of this world. And yet you live life vaguely acknowledging him, attending mass out of social obligation and only signing the cross before an execution.  It is clear that the Scrolls alone will not stir Man to righteous hearts. It is thus that the Creator has planted his Divine seed into the line of Man - becoming God and flesh as Emperor conjoined. Done so that the Creator's word is breathed daily - his presence is physically tangible.

The realm has been brought to peace. The churning chaos of Humanity quelled by the line of Horen alone. All has been brought to glory and Mankind risen again. And you doubt of Divine origin? What man has dominion over the entirety of the world than God himself? See that it is the divine and flesh made one, to guide you now and forevermore.

Surrender to the Emperor your insignificant and worthless existence. Let his August mind breath into you. Let His wills become your own. Once you have yielded to the Godhead, He will transform you into a man of the Creator that you were always destined to be. YOUR LIFE IS NOT YOUR OWN.

I speak harshly in the absence of your fathers’ teachings; of the teachings of your priests and leaders. Verily, this world has failed you. The Imperial Cult now brings you salvation and clarity - to recognize what is bare and naked, yet so violently rejected.

THUS DECREES THIS IMPERIAL CULT,

THE AUGUST MONK

A spirit shifts at the growing conflict, stirring beneath the unconscious woes of Norlandic tragedy and war; the concordant dissonance grows it’s ever waking mind.

I’ll be getting some things running regarding that. Stay posted in the next week. Complex monster hunts is new territory to me, however. I’ll be sure to do enough research into proper execution before putting out any bounties.