Xarkly

Villorik did not have much of a sense of humor. The notion of a Celia'norian inquisition, though, did bring a rare mirth. It was a pity Caius was not there to see it.

Though the missive never crossed Villorik of the White Comet's path, the Devil Knight did cross his mind every so often. She, and a certain letter.

Strength is the measure of all things, Villorik of Jorenus reflected to himself as he knelt before the altar in New Valdev's Temple of the Holy Light. A righteous cause will draw strength to its own banner, and rebuke an unjust one. As he clasped his hands, he sighed, and stared up at the icons adorning the marble altar - among them, was a gold-inlay of a laurel; the laurel of Exalted Horen. In this age of fractured nations, 'tis but a logical consequence. Just because one calls themselves a king, does not mean they rule a kingdom.

Villorik Patriarch Jorenus had little regard for common human squabbles, but his kinsman's rebuke did grant him some begrudging satisfaction. He remembered well how, amidst their hunt for a vampire, their Daelish liegefolk bared steel against one of the Church. "How the Light delivers," he tutted wistfully.

It was strange. The Red Lich had left Villorik bereft of many of those he held close, including his nephew Rhys, and his Pontiff Caius. All the same, though, he could not help but feel a small measure of gratitude to the Hexicanum's fell liege - for the lesson his reign of terror, and his fall, brought back to the world. After all, a light's radiance was determined by the darkness in which it shone.

Sequestered in the White Comet Chapter House, Villorik closed his eyes as the bells tolled throughout New Valdev. The afternoon light shone into the room through open shatters, lighting motes of dust in the air, and falling upon his ornate helmet, gleaming on its wings. His face exposed, Villorik raised a hand, and gently thumbed the deep sword-scar that ran down his left cheek - a momento of King Ivan from long ago, when they were both much greener men. Scars are monuments, he told himself as the bells rang. This scar, he would wear with pride.

ISSUED BY ON THIS 9th DAY OF JOMA AND UMUND OF 538 E.S. Hark, brethren of the Curia, humble servants of Caius Primus - the Light illumine his soul - and now Deunoro I. While we mourn our great Vicar, he who lifted the Church of the Canon from the depths of sloth and irrelevancy, we are honour-bound to carry his cause - and that of all Canondom - still. The name ‘Amaya of Venzia’ is one well-known to Canondom. It was she who was the late Queen of Haense, beloved by the people, and dubbed the ‘White Flame’ for her purity and blazing spirit; and it was she who was named Blessed Amaya by our late Lord Holiness in the Seventh Golden Bull of the Apostolic City. This comes as little surprise, for she was the People’s Queen, beloved by the faithful not only within her homeland, but far abroad. In a world plagued by the crushing hardships of the Covenant War, the White Flame’s kindness was a sun in the Void. While charitable and gentle like no other, she was also a warrior; she was among the countless who answered the call of Pontifex Sixtus VI, and rode into battle astride her husband in the Covenant War. So compelling was her charisma that her own court ladies forsook their dresses in favour of mail, and formed her personal retinue as the Rosen Banner. She was both kind, and a warrior. This, I say without doubt, is the pinnacle of humankind that the Light envisioned for us. Some years after the War’s end, the White Flame died in my arms. In the woods beyond Valdev, in the brief moment of summer when wildflowers bloom, she was set upon by a band of infernal Shadowspawn. There, in the sunlit meadows, we did battle, and Blessed Amaya died of a wound sustained in my own defence. The Light knows it is my greatest shame that I could not save her on that day. Caius Primus knew of her radiant virtue, and so too do I. Ergo, as we near the twentieth anniversary on which she assumed her sanctified seat in the Skies, I am obliged to give voice to the will of the parishioners of Jorenus, and formally petition your Holiness to canonise Amaya of Venzia as Saint Amaya. So too does this act carry the Light’s very blessing - for, in a miraculous act, when the final breath left her blessed body amidst the meadowed woodlands of Haense, fresh wildflowers bloomed instantly where her blood soaked the earth, in such vibrancy and varieties that would otherwise never survive in the inhospitable Haeseni climate. Her love for her people, for the pious, endures in death - for, in a miraculous act, during the Great Battle of the Hexicanum - the very same in which we lost our brethren Rhys Cardinal Westerwald, and Caius Primus - my lady niece Tatiyana vas Ruthern was laid low by the Red Lich Gashadokuro. Yet, before death could save her, she called out to Blessed Amaya; the White Flame granted her succour, and the Lady Tatiyana fought on to the battle’s end. So it is that I trust in the wisdom of the Curia - and the grace of the Holy Light Everlasting - to vindicate these miracles of Blessed Amaya, the White Flame, and formally canonise her. I am certain, too, that Caius Primus would have willed it so.

Atop his destrier, Villorik cantered through the Aaunish lowlands. The warpriest had also been contented with loneliness, and it was a lonely evening. The autumn sun ebbed low, casting burnt orange light and long, reaching shadows across the rolling plains of the Heartlands. The wind carried faint snatches of noise from the scattering of hamlets and farmsteads in the region – song from a tavern here, children playing there – but it all felt a world away to Villorik. Content to be alone … It had always been a logical deduction; he knew that was the fate that awaited one who sought to be an inquisitor, a blade of purity for mankind; the fate that awaited someone of his solitary, stoic disposition; and even the fate that awaited a lastborn child of the troubled House Ruthern. Yes, Villorik had always told him that – that he was content to be alone. As the sky turned a rosy purple above, just about dark enough for the first of the night’s stars to appear, Villorik neared the colossal twin status that flanked the arch into Aaun proper. Villorik did not pass beneath the bannered stone, though; instead, his destrier skirted along its edge, where an earthen path sloped up the jagged cliff of the arch. A blade of the Church will brook little allies, and no friends. That was what he had believed, long ago when he had set off on his path. There was no love to be won from slaying those who fell afoul of humanity, and he had steeled himself for the pariah that would make him. Tsch. What a rotten fool you are, Villorik. As his destrier climbed the path, and farmsteads became dots of torchlight in the sunset fields below, he felt his eyes grew tight, and his jaw set. Amaya. Malna. Ilaria. Rhys. Deia. Ailred. Tatiyana. For all his efforts, for all his intents, fate had obliged him with bonds he thought he would die without. Caius. By the time he reached the top of the arch, the sun had been reduced to a bright line of orange on the western horizon, leaving the rest of the world beneath a blue-purple sky, studded with emerging stars and constellations. High above the ground, now, the wind gusted, billowing Villorik’s white cloak behind him. He felt his breath catch in his throat as Villorik shushed his destrier to a slow trot. They left the road – a lonely path for goatherders – and took to the patches of wildflowers abloom atop the plateau. “Well, what do you really think, Villorik?” Caius had been the first to ask him something like that – his superior he might have been, and yet Caius did not just expect Villorik to follow like a lapdog, despite the fact Villorik thought that role was all he aspired to. He closed his eyes, and felt his shoulders sag, as his horse carried him towards a rocky outcrop situate in the centre of the hilltop plateau. “Then it’s decided. Mercy it is.” When Villorik had first thought the desire in him to spare those touched by the Shadow – to, despite all naivety, try to help – was a weakness, Caius had surprised him to his very soul when he had mirrored his intentions, and his belief, through his Mercyflame. As the wind kept his cloak swaying, the destrier came to a stop at the peak of the outcrop. Villorik’s eyes remained closed, but his horse needed no directions; they had been to this spot many times. “We’ll ensure their ilk never hurt anyone again.” At last, he opened his eyes once more. Above him, the stars spread like an array of silvery thread-like constellations and studded stars, like a net of pearls in dark hair. Crowning all of it was a waxing moon, almost full, and its celestial light shone down atop the plateau. The wildflowers tossed their heads in the wind, as Villorik’s white cloak billowed. With a shaky sigh, he reached up, and slowly lifted his winged helmet off his head for what felt like the first time in an aeon. His iron-grey hair whipped around his face in breeze, and he gently cushioned the helmet in his lap. For all Villorik’s foolish notions about solitude, he had found those who touched his life – he had found those he cared for, those who made the hardship bearable. There was no greater proof of that than Caius, for he was the man who had taught Villorik the meaning of fraternity after fifty long years of that solitude. Caius might have been his Pontiff, but, by the end, he had been his elder brother. Villorik closed his eyes once more, despite the gleaming display of stars, and let warm tears roll down his face. “Rest easy, my lord,” he whisperered, “my brother.” Art by @ivery

I wouldn't agree it's been happening for years really. Renatus beat the big coalitions in 2018-2020, Tripartite v Oren war was pretty evenly matched with nations/allies until the 3rd warclaim, and EATO v USA was pretty much the same until USA fell apart because of its internal rebellion. It's only really post Heartland Accord that you have a more unity with human nations when it comes to defence, but that has plenty of cracks.

This is a bit silly for a few reasons. 1) First of all, discrediting my opinion in particular is against the entire point of this thread. We can all sit around and say "I wish X group did Y" because that's what we want to see them do, but ultimately our opinion has no standing outside of our own perspective. The difference is this thread is literally asking for opinions, and I'm giving it. Generalising 1 player's opinion to be the same as what you perceive to be an entire playerbase to be is also silly (i.e., I kept pushing the victors of the Covenant war to form some kind of empire as a new thing after Veletz was beaten). 2) The NATO/hugbox arguments continue to ignore context. They essentially boil down "man, why do all these nations that we keep raiding and turning into enemies join up together to fight us". It follows logic that if you antagonise multiple groups, you'll create a joint interest against you. This isn't really some sophisticated conspiracy but it's literal cause and effect. 3) Even in spite of the above, I think the last war is a counter-example of it. You should probably bear in mind that the Heartlander Accord existed to counter 'my' nation and pretty much had it by the balls in a vice grip. If that alliance had endured, Haense & et al. would definitely be either dead or crippled right now and team Veletz could form their own Empire or dominant order etc. This fell apart internally because of the same antagonisation I spoke about above - that's not a product of anyone but you guys'. The only reasons 'NATO' is still alive is because of that. >complains about NATO >continues to act in a way that creates NATO >briefly actually learns from this and creates anti-NATO >continues to act in a way that re-creates NATO

I think some of the points are that it doesn't challenge the status quo though. Ironically like some of the others are saying, the brand of conflict itself is becoming stale. It's just the same cycle now for like 4 years. If something like EOM or whatever actually came out of these wars one day it would be much more interesting. Granted server rules and how hard it is to do shit like that does play a big role, but you get what I mean. As an outsider the goal just seems to be fighting for fighting sake, and it kinda feels stale since 2021, and like 50% of people have a character called Dicky Dickyson and don't actually play outside of raids.

What Islam said. Generally, Ferrymen provide a sense of looming danger to the server that I doubt would be there otherwise. Like ideally, nations would raid and fight each other with their own actual armies, but I feel like the server climate just doesn't really allow that with the way it's currently set up. The threat of Ferrymen raids etc. is what gives armies the little fuel they have left, and PvP-readiness. That said, it's been like 4 years now and if we're talking about the state of conflict in general it would be cool to see you guys use your muscle to like actually take the server in a new direction like some of you want to (that might have been the intention with Veletz, not sure) instead of just the usual raiding events, ransoming XYZ lord, etc. Don't get me wrong there's nothing inherently wrong with this - as much as nations will find it annoying (guilty of it myself), ultimately a sense of danger now and again is a good thing - but at some point it does just feel like the same old and dance, and the idea of conflict becomes pretty stale outside of the yearly war. Conflict is usually a good thing because it leads to new and fresh things. Conflict for conflict sake is good for that sense of danger, but it only goes so far before it becomes stale itself. Obviously every group/nation is guilty of staleness in their own way, but if you're asking for feedback, that's what I'd say, and we can all agree it'd be nice to see some new shit. If you do end up warring Haense or Aaun whoever in the future and win, would be much cooler to see something new and different carved out of nation staleness instead of just teabagging, making a video and calling it a day. That's a lot to do with server rules and what you can actually do as well, but you get what I mean.

Stay safe and take care:)

Well-written and interesting submission. One question I'd have is not the technicalities of the magic, but moreso how you envision implementation and ways a consequent group would be active/engaged and not isolationist like a lot of past holy magic groups. I'm also working on a holy magic submission in the coming days ;)

I think the most reasonable thing here is to just relegate chest theft back to heisting (which must occur during peak hours) since that seemed pretty balanced. Otherwise, though, I think it's kind of silly to suggest a hypothetical attacker has to contend with unlimited redstone doors (anymore than 2 is virtually uncrackable in a single heist, after which the defenders can just change the key), and X iron doors in an underground compound WHILE defenders can charge a mega magic death laser and whatever alch potions as you try to pick a door. 'Offlining' came into being because most of these places are so well defended and they would become even harder to breach if actively defended. Bearing in mind, though, you still must heist at peak hours. It's sort of a chicken and egg situation in terms of defenses being jacked because offlining is a thing, and offlining because defenses are jacked (the balance does lean in favour of defenders, though, because of heist times). Make it so chest theft (or at least signed item from chests) can only happen during heists during peak hours, and nerf redstone doors.

A cooldown on keys would only buff redstone doors, which are already extremely broken. Mods absolutely need to nerf them, especially where more than one redstone door is used in a build. There needs to be some mutuality here - there's no point of having a phylactery if it's virtually impossible to reach in any circumstances by virtue of being miles underground, beneath lairs and lairs of honeycomb iron doors, and as many redstone doors as the creator wants.

Feels kind of like having to emote if breaking down a door, which I think only works if there's other players there to interact with that emote. Mandatory emotes when you're on your own isn't roleplay. I'd say something like this should only be required if there's other players nearby/with you.

"Those who abhor war with mere words," a white-cloaked warpriest observed, "will be powerless to stop its injustices."

I don't really think this is true. Redstone doors don't really display any level of ingenuity other than the fact that the plugin exists. Once the door is installed, the items can be switched around at any time and without any cost. There is no trade-off as you seem to suggest - take a look at my thread below for a better look at the issues, but redstone doors are a cheap and imbalanced way to make a location pretty much impenetrable. If all efforts to learn what a redstone door's key is by a hypothetical attacker didn't go up in smoke at the smallest indication someone has been snooping around their lair (any time you interact with a locked door, which will almost certainly compound a redstone door, you have to leave an RP sign), I would say your more on the right track. I'm not sure where you're getting 'easy' from, that's not really the debate at all. You're moreso suggesting that something like a phylactery shouldn't be interactable at all because of the way redstone doors can be (a) spammed, (b) changed at any time, and (c) changed with no cost. Like I said above in my reply to Lom and in my post on the issue, it's virtually impossible to bypass more than two redstone doors and also accompanying iron doors. For some context, the necromancer lair of Murkwater has at least six redstone doors, to give you an indication especially using your example as a phylactery - in circumstances like these, your character might as well have immortality without any cost or consequence because there's no way anyone could ever reach your hypothetical phylactery.

Feels like bows were actively made much worse despite the feedback on the post because of the emote counts. Sure they might have defined armour piercing capabilities now but spending 4 emotes for the possibility of *dodges is nuts. Really think the point was missed when it comes to bows as a projectile weapon. Edit: I did actually overlook there is an emote discount if you're firing without interruption, that said, I still think this is a major nerf from the proposal of an extra emote to simply take your bow out and doesn't do a whole lot - in cases of longbows you have to be interrupted for 7 full emotes to fire two full arrows. Given the litany of defences and the lack of other utility of archery (compared to say magic projectiles) I still think that's a really poor trade off.

"A peace so deep," Villorik hummed, "it was like the Dark."

ISSUED BY THE ON THIS 14th DAY OF TOV & YERMEY OF 535 E.S. In northern Aevos, a wind stirred in the Karenina Mountains. Across the miles of snowy ridges and pine glens did that wind blow, until the star-studded night sky vanished behind a pall of churning storm clouds. What little moonlight filtered through that shroud still reflected resplendently against the snow as the Karenina’s most jagged cliffs thrust towards the continent’s northern coast. The wind whistled around the spires and haphazard towers of Castle Black, domain of the scions of Vukosav’s vampyric court, before it snaked along the steep slopes of the cliff upon which the Castle was situated, stirring loose snow like a white haze as it went. It traced deep ruts in the snow, where something enormously heavy had been dragged, before it careened over the icy waters of Aevos’ northern sea. The wind found a gap in the cliff-face, flanked by two enormous statues of a Gravelord who had once been called Kryndomere, and whistled inside the deep mountain harbour of Murkwater. The wind sighed through the dark-stone complex built beneath the mountain, where Kryndomere’s inheritors had embedded themselves, and echoed through the gatehouse - its doors creaking as they hung from broken hinges and smashed locks - and the gaping portcullis, opened from within. The last vestige of that wind carried the mountain chill deep into Murkwater, over upturned chests and pilfered barrels, until its final touch graced the shattered mound that had once been a Menhir, beside a glowing, thirteen-foot golden cross that was no longer there. As the torchlight glimmered on the glossy green stones of the Menhir - nor longer possessed of its ethereal glow - a dagger was plunged into the stub of rock that remained. On that dagger, there was a message. Hark, ye of Murkwater, and hear me - for I am the Patriarch Villorik of the White Comet. You know well the sting of our bite, for you felt it during our maiden strike when the vampyre Daazhukt faced the Light’s justice; you felt it during our forays to Castle Black, where the snows were reddened with those we have taken; you felt it when we bloodied your lord Kryndomere himself in an ambush upon his own ramparts; you felt it the banners of King Ivan and Pontiff Caius were joined to repel you from your own castle; and so it is that you have felt it today. You have placed a bounty upon my head, but I grow weary, for I know I wait for assassins of the Shadow that will never dare to come; irrespective of what form it may take, those of the Shadow are always cravenous. They might possess the power to return from death a thousand times over, and yet they tremble at paltry humans nonetheless. And so, I deliver this message as rebuke to the bounty upon my head, for what you had done to the soul of Serwa, and for the Blessed Cross of St. Dimitri that you have stolen from my lady niece’s keep of Morteskvan. We have retrieved the Blessed Cross of Saint Dimitri that you have stolen. We have destroyed one of your fell artefacts, and pilfered others for study. Four times, now, have we penetrated to the depths of your den; it is by some chance fate that there have been none of your progeny there to slay. Alas, the world is gripped in chaos as our generation’s flagship battle in the War Eternal looms. The servants of Azdromoth think themselves empyreal champions after their bestial master’s victory over the fell Aengul Xan; the west remains harried by the forces of the Hexicanum, championed by the nigh-invulnerable Gashadokuro; and the Shadowspawn uprooted by the Church’s inquisition now scatter to new lands, and must be squashed. The White Comet must now join its brethren proper in more pressing battlefields, for Murkwater is now little more than a fly in the periphery. All the same, I know well you will be inclined to seek retribution by preying upon some unaware traveller in the small hours, and so I impart to you a simple message by which you might stay your hand, and wallow silently in inequity. If ever your trace is found south of the Karenina Mountains again, then the banners of Canondom will be called to give patronage. An army under Ser Caspian Colborn shall march beneath the banner of King and Pontiff, and they shall rend Murkwater to rubble. Every last trace of the Shadow shall be expunged from the north, be they vampyre, necromancer, or Frost Witch. If what you told me of your ultimate goal is true, loathsome Sermi, then you will not find purchase in further crimes against the innocent, and those weak enough for you to enact your fickle wrath upon. If ever you step into the Light again, Murkwater will fall. Credit @Limmz for screens.

Villorik set down the parchment. He looked down the table, to Joakim, Tatiyana, Lorcán, Caspian, and Rhys. The wood in the brazier, hanging over the table, crackled softly, and a faint autumn wind carried snatches of the bustle of New Valdev beyond the walls of the White Comet's Chapter House. "She wishes to send Shadowspawn to us," he summarised idly, and tapped a finger on the tabletop. That finger bore a plain ring of petrified ring; a ring that might have been more important to Villorik than nearly anything else. "Instead of us having to painstakingly hunt them to the ends of the earth?" An inadvertent gift, from his most inadvertent ally. "Well, Sermi never was the sharpest blade on the rack."