Treshure

13 hours ago, Fury_Fire said:

As I saw it when I learned it, for almost the entirety of its existence it was strict high elf magic. The idea of a culture of magic related to another pre-existing culture is nice, but not if it’s the only group. The way a magic is RP’d and granted purpose is done by those who generally practice the magic. It’s one of those things that can’t exist as a strict, singular order given its make-up as something that lacks creeds or specific RP rules to its casting, such as a deity magic. You may claim it was something other than that, but it’s all I ever saw of it, as well as others. Near the end(with Iconoclasm namely) it split off into segments and that seemed to bring about some level of activity and use. When it was finally shelved, there were a solid group of us with a home and rping with human groups. I remember you were a part of that briefly yourself, before you died to make someone else into a Fi’ Mage.

 

If it fails, it fails. Things like this are made on the off-chance that it wont fail, by those who genuinely enjoyed it when it functioned. If the lore itself is written solid enough then there’s no valid reason not to allow an attempt to be made. If it fails, the only people harmed are those who put their time into it, knowing that it might well not work out. There’s never a promise of successful activity of a magic whenever any lore is made, and it’s been the fall of quite a few. Some have made their way back up, and the intent with Fi’ is the same.

 

Regardless, for my end I initially had no intent of making this until a week or so ago. Others would re-write it no matter what, I figured I’d at least try and make the magic itself solid enough to function and I hope you can see some level of reason behind that(I had to argue against Fi’ Enchanting :< ). I don’t intend on making Fi’ Magic my own main focus, but a few people do and I’ll watch and see how it works with them doing it. I have other unrelated projects lined up, this is mostly a favor to those who want to use it.

 

I’d rather expected a response from you and hoped you would at least allow a chance to be made with it. If you truly don’t believe that a new set of people, a huge leap of time down the line, deserve a shot to make it something decent through RP and different standards of lore from loregames – Then I’ll respect your decision on it and stick away from further meddling, won’t even have an MA for it myself should it manage to pass, but this piece specifically belongs to the others and not me. I do urge you to at least be willing to realize the differences between now and then enough to give it a try, but I don’t intend to force it. Just my two cents on it.

I’m not intending to nor do I have the power to gatekeep this project – and I’m not doubting the pure intentions you folks have. I just have qualms with the magic itself. If you can manage to get this passed and make it a successful magic, by all means, prove me wrong.

I’ll say this as the oldest lore writer/user of the magic still on the server. 

This lore covers how the magic works, but it never justifies a point for its existence. This is something Connor and I struggled with for years. Fi’hiiran’tanya isn’t a magic to role-play in and of itself. It’s only real purpose is to generate a “got-ya!” moment when someone throws a fireball or something. The magic is continuously starved for content and generates no real role-play of it’s own. That’s why it died out and never propagated. That’s why it’ll happen again. The concept is cool, but it never worked and we always had to strain to support Fi’s existence. It is a tried and failed experiment. Leave it at that.

@Mumkey @Hedonism

--

Peace reigned. Thexan Ithelanen’s eyes surveyed the scape of forest and brush, rolling over cobbled cliffs and spilling aneath the hills below. Songbirds dallied in the branch and air, blissfully unaware of this capsule of nature. Nigh a century prior, his own forests were filled with woe; a nascent Bronze Rebellion rose in defiance and power. A burgeoning Dominion wrestled for control on the world stage. And in the dying throes of this Princedom, Thexan unearthed and risen a relic of his own people: The Kingdom of Gladewynn. As the forest withers and regrows, so did the governments and traditions of his own kind. For the blood and toil he spilt for Elvenkind, all moves on. And now, peace reigns.

He gave a last longing glance to the solemn glades. Thexan turned and entered a cave of undergrowth, finding himself deep within this natural world. He never returned.

“But I am not a Man, and this land is not for me. There waits a mountaintop: cold and frigid. A forest, vicious and deep. And in these lands forgotten, aye, a home for me.”

The dead beneath Old Gladewynn sing hymns of approval.

I love how this guy is barely scraping together getting the server in a functional state and you clowns are sweating over your exact desires for nexus 

code it yourself if you think that **** is remotely easy

@Ankan

---

A letter is published to Haelun’or.

ON TIDES OF TITANS,

Sohaer Dimaethor,

You may recall me in earlier days. Years ago I was a hawk on your perch, preaching the unity Elvenesse required. In my words, it was in the form of Empire. Earlier yet, I served as a statesman of the Dominion and later a scholar of Gladewynn. I have dealt with the many international affairs you fraternize with. I believe we also share a common dream, that which extends past the barriers of different blood - the independence of Elvenkind.

My authority and influence has expired. No ears lend themselves to my whispering words any longer. But perhaps I can share with you my perspective. The vast majority of my kin have departed these lands, but I see shameful to let the wealth of their knowledge leave as well. We have fought the same Imperial foe as you. We have also broken bread with them. Let me lend to you their nature.

We were recovering from rebellion when the Empire of Man had risen from the ash. The Empire before had, like all others, withered to bits. Be it stagnation or the coalitions gathered to dismantle the great title of Empire, all renditions of Empire die. That fact is as immutable as time. However, it is equally true that it will form again. Like the waxing and waning of the moon, the Titan reclaims Her titles century by century.

It is why we regarded the Imperial body with such caution. It is why, against the interests of our officers, we treated rather than fought. We collaborated with Imperial warbands despite their veiled contempt for our kind. When we were later aggressed upon in the days of the Elven Union, we dared not extend a sword beyond the reach of our forests. We may have been called cowardly for avoiding the field. In the eyes of our elders, it was survival.

You now find yourselves in the midst of a global coalition. I do not blame you. The atrocities levied against our kind have been enormous - the hate of my heart would jump too with the ambition to dismantle the Empire. Yet the current state worries me. Coalitions are a passionate love: burning with rage and dying as quickly as they had arisen. Time passes, and yet the Empire remains - licking its wounds and facilitating a cohesion the alliance cannot replicate.

I worry again in the quality of your allies. Brigands who murder children bear the same moniker as you, ‘AIS’. As I am sure justice shall be met, the conditions that produced these ruffians remain. The Duke Godric may be just, but his minions lack the noble stock. The Imperial body will be quick to announce this fact. Sooner than later, the Elven name will be mixed with outlaws and rebellion of the lowest quality. 

Worse yet is that the Empire will remember. If the AIS were to mount the walls of Helena and tear it asunder, which may very well happen, they shall still remember. When the nascent Empire wakes again, it will carry with it the terrible memories of who had undone it before. And hell will quake with the rage it brings.

These are trying times for you, for Haelun’or, and for Elvenkind. My words no longer carry any power, so treat this as advice from an old friend: exercise caution. When you drew your swords for the alliance, you entered the dance of death. Emerge alive. 

Thexan Ithelanen

Before the Fringe era, it’d be rare to find a GM online even with 150+ players online. They were nowhere to be seen, but the server wasn’t falling apart back then. People have sucked on the GM milk bottle for years to where they don’t know how to play without it. I think this can pan out favorably. That being said, I don’t approve of GM responsibilities getting progressively neutered down the line.

Endgames are a fundamentally flawed idea, the preexistence of any current ones should not justify the creation of new endgame magic. You cite why endgames aren’t vital in the first paragraph, and that’s where it frankly should have ended.

Magic, like all other devices of RP, are a means to an end to the character’s journey. Full stop. Making magic itself some endgame tiered Mario Kart race bullshit is the brainchild of bored teenagers who want to flex over other magic RPers in their echo chamber.

It won’t benefit anyone and it never has. Let it die.

Balthazar slams his fist on a tavern table within Helena, having spoken to the Princess and her mother not two Saint’s days ago. “These savages stole her with impunity, and now hold her for the accounts of marriage! They will die for this!”

–

Your carriage has veered the beaten path of this world’s routes. You have gone through old, ancient, and then forgotten places. A traveler, a merchant, a statesman? Your role does not matter. All of such embark on their own journey of meaning. The beaten and haggard faces of your wagon’s companions stare back at you. You begin to wonder if they bear the same yearning of purpose as you do. Perhaps they are simply lost. Aren’t you?

You have arrived.

A derelict and trodden wasteland lies before you. The sun scorches it in the day and freezes its windswept planes by night. The ephemeral powers of Man are nowhere to be seen, for there is little to yield of this place than dust and bones. Have great Empires ruled this desert? Was its dried husk a bountiful strait millenia ago? There is little evidence of such. The winds grow by the hour and force you to a cavernous shelter; a massive storm brews on the horizon.

The cave is deep and unending, filled with a dim red light that hangs on its walls. A soft howl fills the air. Is it the storm above, or something below? The cave slopes downwards, with jumping shadows now pitching across the cavernous ceilings. At its deepest ends lies a brazier alive with fire. The ruby tone seen before has grown to a sickly crimson ichor, smeared in thick fashion across the walls around you. 

Etchings ornate these colors; that of orcs, angels, demons, and curses. Burnt and blackened bodies lay before the brazier. Above it are etched three ivory sentences; the letters are jagged, cruel, and without remorse.

- BLOOD IS WATER -

- ORDER IS DEATH -

- WAR IS PEACE -

Something is coming for you.

((Clan post coming soon.))

–

A waning sun sighed over Ves. Beams of light scattered through wooden beams and stone arches, washed over windswept waters, and draped across the faces of Kaedrin that walked the streets of that early eve. There amongst them sat one sable cloaked wanderer. An ashen hood fell hung over his hunched head, pulled toward the papyrus scroll beneath him. With every multitude of ink strokes, he cast wary eyes to the townsfolk. He was not of their kind, and he felt that fact thick in the air.

Slowly, notices would be found across taverns - from Kaedrin, Helena, and then all provinces beneath the umbra of Empire.

“To those of the Rhenyari - that of the Magian Mountains, of South Rhenyar, one who sings praise of Mitras and follows Kitran by starry night - I call you! I have spent my life lost and cast away. I have travelled vast sands and arid mountaintops, hoping to see my people in more than thin passings. 

I know that we were more than bands of roving magi. I have heard whispers – of mystic revelations, and lands filled with wayward sons as I. Come, ye of Rhen! Meet me in Ves, so that we may be bring together which was lost at long last.

Adio,

Balthazar”

Thexan sees that Fenn is predominantly fair skinned and white of hair! He rushes off to bleach his skin. It's what a true wood elf would do.

A letter is penned in response.

“Brother,

I must admit that I had not been aware Gladewynn had been dissolved prior, lest I would have erred the task entirely. The missive in and of itself spoke to a higher degree of the work that must further be done. Where-oft our fabled blood roams, bounty follows. I do not doubt the earth gives way to our feet; in quiet times, we drink rich on the natural beauties this land provides us. The Blood of Alder lives on, and will enjoy this quality for time immemorial. In this sense, we are not sleeping. We are eternally lucid and entwined with the woods around us: watching, waiting, and living.

Yet it was not what I referred to in my letter. When we had first emerged in the Dominion’s early days, the realm itself twisted to our ambition. There is a nascent power that sleeps. It is time for an awakening. When we meet, I will tell you of what is to come. I will never forget the song of our people,

And in that strange light, a lost people found unto themselves. No gates or walls marred our land - only the trees, and silent eyes within.

But there is yet more.”

Thexan Ithelanen

–

Missives are sent across the elven woodlands.

I have returned from my roving, and I am displeased. 

The once proud clan of Ithelanen has scattered across the wind. The rumors of their once greatness are unfounded. My Gladewynn, the Kingdom that I unearthed from the whispers of Alders past, lays as some derelict relic of what once was. My brother, Kairn, has disappeared. I have slept for centuries, returning only in times that my people required me most. That time has arrived.

I bear no tattoos, so that I may watch in secrecy. This secrecy ends now.

I, Thexan Ithelanen, claim reign over the Alderfolk and the Clan Ithelanen.

I assume the titles of Gladewynn, as it was risen on my accord, and I abolish them fully. I challenge any fool who would dare oppose my dominion.

Lastly, I declare an emergency meeting in the next Elven day within Irrinor. I summon all Ithelanen and Alderfolk, so that they may bear my witness and partake in the coming reform.

ITHELANEN SLEEPS NO LONGER.

((Tomorrow @4 EST))

Done and done, let it rest.

What’s the tactical addition of making players literally invulnerable and free to attack his opponent in the mean while? Does it make sense to be able to swing back with your shield raised Mrs.  “it defeats the point of a shield”? Guess we’ll never know bc our professional dev team replied “Unlucky” to a serious flaw. Cringing so hard right now

Markus is unsure of what claimant to support!

A cool breeze ran between two lone elves upon the bridge. Despite the sunny disposition of Elvenesse’s warm forests, their minds were filled with death. Just an elven week prior, Thexan Ithelanen’s challenge had been answered by the Silver City. There stood Kaius Visaj; alone in a foreign country, with none by his side.

“Have you prayed to your Gods?” Thexan passively asked, trying to ignore the presence of the massive crowd to their rear.

Kaius dipped his head in affirmation.

The Ithelanen turned towards the gatehouse-turned arena, undoing the straps of his helm. “And so it begins.”

-

Thexan’s blade ripped across Kaius’ breast, bearing into his plate and freeing the flesh from his chest. With a cry of manic ecstasy, the high elf crumpled to the floor. He knelt beside the dying ‘aheral, watching the stars fade from his iris.

Thexan looked down onto the dead elf. “So that I may free your head from your shoulders,” he echoed in cruel mockery. With a swipe of his blade, it was Kaius’ head that was freed - thrown upon the marble stone for Elvenesse to bear witness. A priest of the druidic faith flanked the victor’s side.

“Do you wish to be present for the rituals?” he asked, glancing towards the sunken corpse. Undoubtedly, it involved the use of several organs.

Thexan shook his head. “I have a letter to write.”

-

A missive is sent to Haelun’or.

“I have killed the champion of Visaj. I have freed his head and spilt his silver blood on the stones of Elvenesse. Come and see.

I have sewn his blood into my roots, as I have promised long ago. Come and see.

I have strung his mangled corpse amongst the trees.  I have seen his ichor - the fabled silver blood is as red and thick as mine. You may have your dead, but first you must retrieve it.

I soon will march on your gates. I will tear every stone from your wretched walls and return your citadel to the dirt. I will leave you alive - only to remember the cost of leaving your ivory prison. But before I arrive, come and see.”

Thexan Ithelanen

Thexan received the notice, walking amidst his home glades in solemn retreat. Despite the aggressive exchange, there was a melancholy to his gait. Dancing with death demanded a certain respect.

His eyes wandered to the blade rested along the roots. “Let us talk with this ‘Kaius’, then.”

A missive is sent to Haelun’or.

The declarations of hegemony, “purity”, and dominance from the silver city become increasingly annoying. It is no well kept secret to the realm that you, silver elves, render your strength from Imperial allies. Without them, you would stow away wordlessly within your citadels – as you have for centuries prior. Let the record then show. My name is Thexan Ithelanen – son to Valkorion and favored blood of Kairn the Conqueror. I have written the many documents that have embarrassed this war effort throughout the elven weeks. I’ve received little parry. 

The blood of silver is weak. I challenge you to a duel within the woods – that whosoever falls, the monks shall not revive. Let us settle what blood reigns stronger. Bring one of equal stature to mine so that I may slay him and sow his blood among my roots. You have one elven week to reply.

Thexan Ithelanen

“Yes” thexan say

In the words of a common elf,

The Imperial mind mistakes itself. There is no Great War. There is no strife of value. This is no coalition set to depose an Empire in faith that we would instill our own. We have brought together the free minds of Elvenkind not to retaliate, but to break the yolk and tether bound across every Elf. We have sought to live a life that is not aligned to the whims and wars of any Man. Verily, to our expectation, the Imperial mind is displeased. There is indeed whisper of an Age of Elves – but it is none to rule over others. We yearn of an age free of wars that are not our own; free of the political bondage bound due our communion with other races.

You will see then that your challenge falls on deaf ears. You have invaded our forests five times, in most occasions to tear the life of our Princes and render our children leaderless. And yet we stay, tending to the life we have always known. We do not raid, we do not rove, we do not reave. 

What blood do you then thirst for? Is it a rebel’s? We have not rebelled.    Is it an enemy’s? We do not seek you in battle. Your proclamations announce our crowing and craven ways; letters from the Imperial Capital tell of a foe far in evil and sewn in their wretched hideaways. But you dare not tell them the truth - that Imperial forces invade peaceful cities, incite death, and pretend that they are wronged.

My people have died before, and they may die again. Fenn has been sacked. The Mali’ker have been butchered in excess. Malinor, a home of all wood elves, was put to the sword by Humanity’s best. But we find life again. The winds of war wash across this world for ages over - and yet, nothing is ever truly gone.

At day’s end, I weep for Horen’s children. As we live and die by these ancient woods, so does Humanity by the sword. Wars are a season to Elvenkind, but Man will be fighting them for as long as they live. When all is done and the sun sets on quiet glades again, I will rest. And that is something worth dying for.

Thexan

“Why do you care about elves?” asks Thexan. “We’ve made it clear this is a defensive effort. There is no interest in waging conquest. Yet, it seems you thirst to fight.” 

He mulls over the words for a few moments. “Yes. They’re thirsty.”