Temp

Primary Region Owner: No real issues. Nation Charter: No real issues. Land Charter: Inactive land needs to be rolled back and taken over by wilderness. From there, turn the areas into ET regions (Which can be reclaimed) that actively spawn bounty creatures. Travel Charter: Dislike Fast-Travel in general. That said, horses are a pain in the ass to get thanks to Nexus. Limited Creative: It's good stuff. Should be pretty expensive, given the potential use. Tiles: These are way too cheap. Too many nations own tiles they don't occupy or have the numbers to occupy. Seeing useless abandoned forts every which way to delay warclaims is old as hell.

I mean, why do anything disruptive if you lack the recipes and highest grade gear to get away with it? It was bad enough that the server had weapons doing 2-3 extra points of damage before but with Diamond gear coming into the equation, there's no point in doing anything of note if you lack the resources to do it. All iron, no enchants and no percentiles was by far the most entertaining PvP and the most novice / active lifestyle friendly.

Tythus is the God Emperor, but mute even in the mouths of his followers.

Tofuus, man, 3 steps back and relax. You're too new here to be part of the long standing issues players have with admins and devs. Honestly, you don't really need to defend yourself or the rest of the staff team.

A messenger is sent off and gear is amassed for the coming fight.

A response is sent, "Should you wish for an environment not ripe with degeneracy, undesired filth and idiotic ideals, I offer you lessons under the manticore initiative. You will, however, be required to stand your own and fight when the need arises. It should also be noted that the wildlife is ripe with hostility. - Eddard Wolfe of Oak Shade"

A young man, no more than twenty four stands before a crowd. His once proud leather clad six-foot four stature reduced to a groveling slouch. Deep scars line the man's face, horizontal line just short of bone across his right cheek and a series of digging claws across his bandaged left eye. The man lets out a pained whimper before reaching out, pinky and ring fingers long since parted from his left hand. He takes a deep breath and with an expression befitting the dying, speaks out, "Brothers, sisters and outlandish cousins not of blood, but of purpose. We are at war. Not with our fellow man, not with our own blood, no. With damnation, monstrosity and hellish torment incarnate. Even as you stand before me, creatures of darkness, some of them men touched by unrelenting taint, reek havoc upon these lands unchecked. Some of them stand amongst us and others watch from the shadows and yet, we do nothing. Are we but cattle to this threat? A meal for the hunger stricken ghoul? A soldier for a once turned warp-touched mind? Are we all but vermin to the wretched forces of the damned?" The man's eyes wide, he leans back and looks to the sky. For a moment, he seems to forget himself and where he is before going silent for quite some time. He then takes a deep breath, collects himself and continues, "We should not, can not, accept this. We have done nothing about the undying one with his fortifications to the west. We do nothing about the tainted dark ones that have grown so damned confident in their position that they needn't hide themselves. Men stand by and let these creatures dwell amongst them, allow them refuge and yet, they are not punished. What has happened to the pride of man? What has happened to the purpose of our blood? Have we grown so damned passive, so damned weak that we are forced to accept the blight as it grows over us?" Weak and with frame battered by battle, the man rises and begins to make his way through the crowd to depart, "I will not stand idly by and do nothing. I will fight, as I must. As we all must. The men of the Manticore seek to rid this world of blight. Not just their city. Not just their keep. We are not so foolish that we stand by the notion of self-service, as the idle hand is just as guilty and the hand actively committed to partaking in crimes most cruel and twisted." He passively gestures to a handful of men as he passes, "Come then, let us make something of ourselves or die with blades in hand." As the group departs, a man turns, his arms heavy with scrolls. He'd make an attempt to hand them out whilst carrying on. Anyone interested would find the following:

Specialized potions that only a select few have access to that enhance strength, speed and give regeneration? And permanently. Eh....

All iron, no enchant and no performance enhancers(pots or etc) was and still is some of the most enjoyable pvp.

The wind took on a very sudden and very sharp rise, causing the man's ears to ring. He could feel himself falling, hair momentarily shifting in the breeze. He'd simply lost his footing, backpedaled when he should have stepped aside and in doing so, found only loosely set stones beneath his heels. He peeled back over the edge of a sudden drop. The man came into contact, first, with a limb sized branch. It easily giving to his weight before splintering into several pieces in his descent. Second, the man met the sheer drop's near barren walls thrice before meeting the cliff's bottom with an echoed thud. He simply lay there, for hours, staring up at the starless sky, his figure bruised and near broken. The man's eyes growing heavy, he blinks only to open his eyes to a new setting. A large room, beneath the earth, several teal banners baring a circular serpent marking its walls. The wounded man looked on in horror as many he'd called brother and friend lie about the room in pieces, a duo standing before him. The bloodied of the two, looked on at Gansen, disbelief clear on his face. The man's expression sagged into regret before he turned a bloodied blade inward on himself, the phrase, "Alone or as one," escaping his lips for the last time. Gansem stepped into the room, his right hand outreached, begging for forgiveness but before he'd even had the chance to approach the man, he found himself surrounded by aged scrolls and half-written books. His head barren, Gansem looked on in quiet contemplation as a giant of a man gave quiet lesson to several men stood about a pyre. The words muffled and distant, Gansem strides across the mighty halls of the owynist church, plate and chain rattling about his being, maul grasped just before its head in his right hand. He'd open his mouth to speak but before he can allow the passage of words, he finds himself in darkness, a great weight upon his being. The man frantically pulls himself from rubble, shouts of "The king is dead! Find the prince!" seeping through the sunken walls of a fallen palace. Freeing himself, Gansem stumbles across the remnants in desperation before ascending to a set of inner doors. His figure battered, the man drives hard at the door, shoulder first and knocks it free of its hinges. He staggers forward and falls unto his chest, fatigue clear in his being. As he places his palms to the now snow covered fields of a land he once called home, the panicked agonized screams of a man lost to his senses ring out over him. He looks on in quiet horror and shame as a man he'd known as friend was beset upon by all manner of undying abomination. A simple raid gone wrong, the man attempts to bring himself into a rise, only to find an iron boot meeting his ribs. Arms wrapped about his torso, he looks on in agony as he finds himself in a field. Just as his senses come to, a colossal creature drives down, hard, at his head with a stone device of war in its palms. Unable to react, the man simply closes his eyes and whispers to himself, "Alone or as one," before letting out his last.

Ok? Victims would lose nothing, would be downed for all of 2 seconds and the offenders would be banned. And for what exactly? To protest the change in the least effective way possible?

Wolfe, his figure caked in crimson, observes in quiet concern as a pair of men haul a maimed man of the Cerulean guard from the Marked holding. He'd spent night and day attempting to mend the flesh of a near removed shoulder and had ultimately failed. The man would return home crippled, should he even survive the journey. Disturbed, Wolfe turns, heading back into the depths of the compound. Days are spent tirelessly scrubbing the event's remnants from the walls and floor of his study.

1 - This deters some of the folks that provide minimalist RP for the sake of items collection and also deters the late night two on one jumpings frequently seen on games like rust. That said, it defeats the purpose of war oriented raiding for those few occasions in which the attackers have a valid Casus Belli. It would be amusing to see, even if only for a week. Just to observe who posts feedback about it nagging. 2 - This is what should be going on now already. The current black list usage is light handed at best, which is actually unfortunate. 3 - This won't fix much of anything. VAs can be written by basically anyone for anyone and don't prove the ability for the player to provide quality RP. The work around would be requiring a lengthy and difficult app but that would be met with heavy resistance as most folks have grown extremely lazy.

With the general behaviors of the server, Group oriented conflict RP has been reduced to the minimalist approach. Folks defy logic and the environment in an effort to achieve an OOC End Goal instead of making the efforts to make RP enjoyable. With devices like the grappling hook / fishing rod, folks overcome most fortifications without RPing much of anything and without intent to contribute to the RP environment. Given the lack of enforceable PKs, there's no real risk to partaking in villainous activity and more often than not, folks won't PK on either side of the spectrum. Blacklists don't really punish folks too hard, as it just turns the person away for a duration of X days. The general mentality has shifted to factions pvp, thus the intense shift in numbers for War Claims and raids. The server, in general, has grown lapse in regards to giving the community interesting matters to pursue and the RP environment is thin to the extent that it's almost tedious in place of entertaining.

A gauntlet reaches out to grab one of the parchments, its index and middle finger permanently locked as if grasping the hilt of a blade. A bald figure, green rag about its neck, looks the notice over for an extended moment before tossing it aside. The man nods to himself, vision shifting skyward, before wrapping the cloth about his head and carrying on with his business.

A messenger would deliver response: Should you be interested, the ongoing fight against the undying in the form of the Manticore Initiative is always looking for assistance in both combat and general services. At this time we understand you have competence in the field of the cook? Services in this field would be paid a negotiated rate. Should you wish to serve further, assessment would be required alongside training. Do not hesitate to respond and our collective can be found within Metz at this time. - Gansem Thersist.

A young man, no more his early twenties is seen jogging through out settlements where he'd hand off bits of parchment and then carry on before hearing response. The parchments would read as follows:

Gansem limps from the scene, a cracked and useless chestplate in his left, a maul digging ever deeper into the mud as he departs barely held in his right. A medallion dangles from his belt, its form caked in dried blood and mud. No words would be passed, no prayers muttered and no formalities taken. For a time, Lector Thersist would fade from existence.

Username: RancidHound Character Name: Gansem Thersist

Edward sends off a letter through a messenger stating interest, provided no alliances or long-term commitment to political entities are to be expected.

Edward receives the letter where it is promptly tossed unto a pile of projects and documentation. For a duration of 3 days, it is hidden within the pile before it is discovered again by Edward. He'd finally open the letter, glance it over and send off a messenger to collect the man.

((Best to start small and build as you gain players. No sense in having a ghost city.

To those it concerns, the following letters are delivered: Seeking men of the faith. Edward Winter III of Oak Shade would like a moment of time from the current organized religious factions of Tahn, including those not of human origins. --- Seeking men and women of the Arcane Edward Winter III would like to arrange, with compensation, a collective of classes on the nature of magic. Anyone interested may approach Oak Shade with their proposal. ---

The farming village of Oak Shade Established 12th of The Amber Cold, 1609 Under Lord Harold Winter V (Demographic) And Edward Winter III (RancidHound) --=-- The town of Oak Shade is, at this time, a farming village in the northern reaches of Tahn. It is accompanied by the Lord’s Holding. --=-- OOC intent Given the unfortunate fall of Bastion, a few folks with intent to maintain the same form of RP in another environment have shifted their attention to another project. Our intent is to maintain a generally welcoming community with a mentality of RP first in all things and through the amassed crowd, we will go forward as RP allows, shaping and growing our group as time passes. --=-- Housing At this time houses are free, provided the player with intent to acquire the house can complete a minor goal provided by Lord Winter or a representative of Lord Winter. --=-- Laws of the Village Can be found here --=-- Town Notice Board Can be found here Basic Directions From Cloud Temple, Head down to the ships and mount the ship labeled Heartlands. Approach the human carts and board the Cart labeled, "The North." Right across from the cart will be a small cart with hay, take this cart as well.