excited

Wait three weeks and write the full appeal next time. Also, a lack of ADHD medication doesn't cause these things, you deliberately did this. Explain how you will not do this again in your next appeal, after your full three weeks have run their course. 

Claimed.

Claimed.

Low effort appeal, denied.

I have consulted the evidence presented and found that Almightysaucer violated no tangible LoTC Combat Rules or extended policies we have documented on the forums. As a Story Team member, he has far more leeway with the policies dictated within the bounds of his event. Whether or not the event was a good event remains up to the public perception of those who participated in the role-play, and in the case that the event was poorly conducted it falls upon those gathered to do the following: a.) present constructive criticism (without pre-determining a BR), and b.) Report it to the Team Lead (SquakHawk).

Furthermore, his use of PEX as demonstrated within the bounds of the screenshots you presented is appropriate given that he was making an event. That being said, if you have quarrels about his personal conduct, you may reach out to his Team Lead SquakHawk, or to his manager BobBox. Going forward, I understand you are new to LoTC; but in cases like these where the event has a clear and demonstrable end, and the other person in this case (Almightysaucer) was visibly attempting to act in good faith, it goes against our Community Guidelines to contact him under the pretense that if he does not appease you, you will file the report.

No bans or warnings shall be issued, and the case shall be passed up to ST Management and the Administrator @squakhawkto determine whether or not the PEX use, event conditions... Etc, were in line with Story Team Policy.

Happy Holidays!

Paul sips a coffee while contemplating his next plan for a meal that following evening. He set about in the kitchen preparing Char de canaud to celebrate his recent successes.

Locked.

Claimed.

Will be handled late Friday night to Saturday morning. Will give time for the reported party to respond, and then also speak to ST Management. 

We didn't always get along but for the most part I consider you one of the more interesting people I've met on the server. Peace, bro.

From a science perspective, yeah ML is awesome. 
 

That being said, fascination with the robot being able to emulate new things aside, the story it generated was rather drab. It has a weakness where it’s very unspecific and unable to really write with the same level of specificity and depth a human narrator would. 
 

I always find the new tools coming out very interesting, because it raises interesting points about human creativity. I’m interested in seeing where ML/AI goes. 

"Good lad," said a Scallywag Peter donning the bandana of his fallen comrade, Valentin Mareno. "Shame they remain beneath a despotic wretch. Someday, all these lands shall be free again, and the principles of the Imperial past shall be laid to rest once for all.

Dope!

The coniferous trees were steep with rainwater, the scent of pine needles and smoke palpable to the Knight as he contemplated the arduous task that lay before him. He pondered his conversation with Sir Edmond of the Blackwald days earlier and the worries shared to him by other members of the Circle of the Eagle. The words of his cousin Leonid Vilacz rang true in his ears still, though he did not know the man. He considered that letter he had received, remembering the five minutes he spent standing at the top of his tower, reading the unfurled scroll between his fingers, the letter bearing a waxen seal of a two-headed crow etched in crimson ink.

Blood is blood and blood runs deep. Steep is the blood that binds us, even steeper still the blood our ancestors spilled for us to be here. Be amongst your own kind.

Your kinsman, Leonid

Sir Paul Montalt saddled his horse and then grasped it by the reins, the gallant steed steered along to cross down the cobbled worn path down the hills of the lands that were once Mardon. Renilde I, Archduchess of the Commonwealth of the Petra, could see a sword planted in the hallowed ground of her garden before the Ducal Seat in Downtown.

Before long, the figure departed and crossed the threshold leaving into town, flinging his wrists forwards with the soft clack of his horse's reigns as he galloped off into the distance as night befell him.

To Renilde Temesch Et Moere, 

Dear child, you have not had it easy in recent years. Yet, I have watched you grow from a calm young girl into the leader of a vast nation. It is my greatest regret that I could not train you in the use of the blade. Your studies however made that impossible. With the death of your father, I remained to ensure you stayed alive. I would take that arrow for you again, and again, and again to ensure your continued safety.

I now have a higher calling. In going to Petra, I sought to prove to myself that I could be a Knight, as I intended to be while training under Sir Gustaf de Vilain, the Baron of Acre, may God rest his soul. However, I came to understand my late mentor’s impulses – the desire for Revolution, it burns deep within the recesses of my soul. I seek a world without kings, a world without queens, a world without lords.

A world where war is all but gone, and the only true war is class conflict. This dream is a great lie, a fiction, yet the impulse carries sway in my heart all the same. Were I to remain, I might find myself your enemy, and I desire to end the cycle of violence. Once, I was a bastard by the name of Barrow, and my cousin was the Bastard of Reutov. Together, we toppled the Empire, and slew the Emperor. I killed Lord Carrion’s son and I do not regret it for an instant. Meeting a kindred soul such as the late Sir Mareno was gracious for me. Upon his demise, it reminded me of the madness that motivates men, and not too long ago after this, disaster destroyed my home in Petra. It reaffirmed what I have always been thinking, that the bureaucratic core of the Petran Regime was all but a sham and systems that divide men only serve to drive them mad. It is fated to be so, that I am to saddle my charger now and carry myself to join the other Raevir. My negative impulses would have no doubt driven me to be an enemy of Humanity. So, I cast my shackles aside, and I renounce my oath to you. 

I am an impious man. I am moved by actions and not by words. Unchained, I shall do more services to the annals of our shared future histories than if I were to remain by your side; nothing but a lackluster shadow overpowered by the State and its bureaucrats.

May God bless you and yours, and may your husband treat you kindly. 

Signed fondly, 

Paul Dmitrievich Montalt

4 hours ago, Nectorist said:

do i normally seem that depressed????

Eli and his "Mod Friend", colorized, c. 2022 @MaltaMoss

15 minutes ago, Defy said:

war of 2 emps answered this question a long time ago

 

also heard i got banned not sure how or what rules i broke i quit like over a month ago lol

miss u bro

hope ur doing good

also ur not banned, and aeus isn't either, dw

hit me up in another 8 months and lets hop on kits so u can kill me with a bucket and fishing rod

I’ve lost hair follicles in service to my buds Defy, Charlemagne, and Mogroka. 

Accepted. 

how’s it feel knowing that I can watch your rp in vanish and admonish you for your weird Derfey dinkleberg celia’norian neighbor rp?

What is your favorite RP you’ve had? 
 

Do you have a favorite video game? 

Malus leaves a note,

”Mali’ker are always welcome in Dark Hollow and Elvenesse. 

Signed, Malus Corrin”

Since Nikolai was a boy he had an affinity for the mystical, the esoteric, the out-of-place.

One such interaction was with the Nephilim, the first of his Azdrazi-blooded kindred, Alistair.

Like Nikolai, Alistair was not gone, his only vestigial influence a stone statue in a volcano. The Inner Flame of the magnanimous knight now quenched by the fires of the magma in the volcano that had claimed him years before, upon the death of his one true love - a fiery patron of the arts who had stolen his heart.

In life, the fickle Dragonkin had done very little apart from bring about the existence of his people once again after the genocide perpetrated by the Emerald Dragaar, Taynei'Hiylu. Upon the loss of his one true hoard, the beast had given up on living, casting himself into the fiery depths of the volcano as though it was a bashful first kiss. He had lost his father, the Archdrakaar, long ago. He had lost his other half, a dainty being with brown tresses who taught him of Humanity - the things he had not learned, being dispossessed of his free will at an early age and encased in stone as the last savior of his people.

Through some mystical means, the dreaming Alistair remembers the boy with black hair and the funny accent, the one who helped him fetch raw materials. The one he was to make his Herald, and perhaps to adopt and take on as his own progeny - a new Draziman for his flight. He considered now how many centuries it must have been, contemplating whether or not he was alive, dead, or in some sort of mal-adaptive daydream.

The statue released a single, salty, muddied tear. It slid down the stone cheek, quickly evaporating upon contact with the lava, sizzling and disappearing as quickly as it came.