iris1612

[OOC] Username: iris1612 [RP] Full Name: Reza Ludovar Residence: Isaakev Reason for joining: "To gird the spirits of men."

There are only 3 circumstances in which I won't pk upon death. First, if the person who killed my character explicitly says "I don't want you to PK." Second, if I felt the RP was low quality or memey, and third, if it was a death in PVP. I think that not pking to a death in good RP is kind of a slight. To me, it's like saying "Your rp was low quality and I'm going to move on as if it just didn't happen." My last character died to bandits on the road (not normally something I'd pk to) who did good and quality roleplay, and I wanted to respect that, even though it was very unexpected and meant losing everything I'd built on her. Yes, it sucks to lose a character suddenly and unexpectedly, but it forces you to treat conflict RP with a lot more seriousness, and I think overall it just makes stories better and more dynamic.

the only thing I don't love, which is a very minor thing, is the boomsteel weakness. I'd be personally inclined the weakness be to a different ST material, or just to medium density boomsteel specifically. since medium density actually produces flame, it makes sense with the explanation, and it would lend some value to a material otherwise completely overshadowed by its crpmaxxed big brother. overall this is awesome and i hope it passes

In the high halls of Kasstel Lesanov, a strong-lunged little girl cried out in vain each night for her mother to return. She was too young to understand, or perhaps she simply refused to, even when her father had tearfully explained that she would never return. How could she?

while i would like to see more ways to cleanse curses and the like, i think this addition would benefit from a concrete downside. Some curses have a cleansing downside built in (corcitora does at least, in that curing makes you deeply phobic of the curing source) but i would still like to see one built into the mechanic.

Isabel Adryana demonstrated a powerful set of lungs as she cried through the night, keeping royals and servantry alike from getting any sleep.

Mara of Kraken's Watch sat in her newly anointed guildhall, overseeing the comings and goings of her crew; men and women of the Kraken Company busied themselves with the mining of ores, the gathering of herbs, and the forging of weapons for the Crown. The forces of the Brotherhood and the Marian Retinue would not be ill-equipped for the coming war.

everyone gets 5 slots of magic, if you're too busy minmaxing your slots to dedicate 1 of them to housemagery, you don't deserve whimsy. void magic does not need more abilities

Reza Ludovar assumed her stance in the training yard. Knees slightly bent, weight balanced between both feet. Elbow cocked, the tip of the blade hovering just so, at eye level. Then: front foot forward, extend the arm, lunge! "You must tell me, in your own words, why it is that you must learn to fight." The Patriarch's words echoed in her mind as she drew back the blade, and repeated the drill from the beginning. Knees slightly bent, weight even. Elbow cocked, point at eye level. Front foot forward-- arm out-- lunge! She did not yet have the answer. But with each passing repetition, it became more clear to her. Almost like prayer.

"Enjoy vyr retirement, Lord Kortrevich- vy have earned it." These had been the parting words of his secretary, Reza Ludovar. The acolyte made a prayer for peace and good fortune in his future.

i think this is a great lore with so much potential

Reza Ludovar bustles about, preparing fresh cups of imported Balianese coffee for the Lord Palatine and the Deputy.

"Aedypapej Ricky, nie!" Reza Ludovar collapsed with a wail when she read that fateful letter. "Ea never got to say goodbye to vy. . ."

Mara polished the countertop and glassware of the tavern until it practically gleamed. "Everything must be perfect," she worried to herself "Nothing but the best for our southern friends!"

In the howling wastes of Ailmere, a specter wept bitterly. For the life that she had lost, for the friends she would never be able to see again. Tears of bitter regret eventually faded into a protective, steeled resolve. "For you, my daughter, I would kill them all."

"The Aaunish bite the hand which feeds- even a dog has more sense." Said Mara, tossing the missive into the fireplace

Nataya was no stranger to bandits. They were a reality of life on Aevos, especially for a young woman who oft-traveled alone. So, when the three strangers on the road surrounded her, drawing blades and bow, she merely spurred her horse forward, thinking she might outrun them as she had others before. Her first mistake. She felt a searing pain in her back as one of the men, a keen-eyed marksman, let loose an arrow which struck true, sinking into her unarmored flesh. So she surrendered- calling out to them, begging them for mercy, for she valued her life above all trinkets she carried. Her second mistake. The trio quickly surrounded her, seizing her possessions, valuable and worthless alike. Her jewelry, her medical satchel, her license to practice medicine, even the plush penguin, a gift from Francoise, was not spared. Still, she did not fear as she surrendered herself to the bandits, for she considered this no more than a routine annoyance, a trivial setback. Her third and final mistake. The horse-lord above her picked a flower from the ground and began to pluck its petals, one by one. “Life,” he recited after the first; “death,” after the second; “life,” after the third; so it went for twenty-two petals in all, until the flower held just one more. Their eyes met, his of hawkish green and hers of pale blue, for just a moment before the final word was spoken. “Death.” There was no escape- fate had decreed it so. So, steeling herself against the terrible pain of the arrow wound, she drew herself up to her feet- she would, at least, face the end standing up tall. Her last thoughts, as the warhorse came charging towards her, were of her daughter Lorina, only four years old. Mercifully, it was swift end- her neck snapped as her bones were crushed, flesh trampled under the steel-shod hooves. Her body was discovered the next morning outside the gates of New Valdev, cold and broken, her eyelids drawn shut. There were no letters left behind for her friends and family, no will or instructions.

just a thought: if every single CRP encounter you're in devolves into OOC arguments and conflict, maybe the problem isn't CRP rules. Maybe the problem is you.

The scarred woman was returning home from a visit to the Heartlands, a rare respite from the busywork which seemed to consume her whole life as of late. Spying her friend John of Nau Valdev manning the gates, she opted to pass through there instead of the citizen doors, but was shocked to be greeted with tear-stained eyes instead of his usual stoic demeanor. "Miss Nataya. Our baby prince is dead," the guard uttered in a wrecked, hoarse voice. "No- this can't be," came her shocked reply "The boy was only just born, and healthy as a horse!" Her denials rang hollow as she paced past the gates without another word, a cold numbness gripping her heart. She had to see the Queen.

iris1612

Illuminated by the dull green light of the tomb, a raven-haired woman stood before the spectral guildmaster with eyes cold and calculating. "How many souls, I wonder, have been condemned to eternally wander these halls?" But even as she spoke words of doubt, the thin aurum dagger was drawn from its place at her belt. The sting of the blade elicited no cry of pain as a thin cut was drawn into scarred palm, letting rivulets of blood drip into inkwell. And, dipping quill into that sanguine humor, she scrawled a name across that parchment. "We're going to need backup," she warned to the invariably smiling Elfess beside her, to whom she proffered knife and quill. "And a lot more potions."

if you don't give me the pastel pink emote color i will Die In Real Life