Eranikus

The sound of fallen leaves rustling in the wind rings through the woods, resonating along the twists and turns of long-forgotten trails and abandoned footpaths. The scent of harvest hangs heavy in the air, promises of the coming season enticing the hungry to gather and prepare for the holiday around the corner. The chittering of squirrels rings through the air as tiny woodland creatures scurry about, collecting the last of their stores before the frost. Swift shudders of branches disturb the serenity of the forest, a figure from the past darting between the trees with the nimble, calculated movements of one that has spent lifetimes in the canopy. Each leap takes but a split second to select, years of practice and learning from the masters of motion coming into play. Loose leaves shiver and float to the earth below as they shake free, the limbs swaying as they are landed on. Finally running out of trees, the figure leaps to the ground, landing on all fours as a beast and continuing its advance through the forest, traveling in long bounds. The fabric of its clothing flaps in the wind, whipping behind it in tatters and shreds. Finally, the figure skids to a stop, rising to its feet and tossing back its hood. Long, dark hair spills out of its cloth prison, drawn back into a low tail to keep it out of the dusky-skinned male's face. Gleaming viridian eyes gaze out from behind the stray locks that fall into his face, scanning over the familiar landscape. He picks small sticks and leaves out of the unkempt tangle, wiping the hair out of his face. Tossing them aside, he unclips the tattered cloak from around his neck, allowing it to fall to the ground. Dreams. Dreams are what lead him this far. Whether they were the dreams of others or the dreams of his own, it was the fantasy, the idea that compelled him to move forward. And it was in dreams he was beckoned back. Visions of not a puma, but a hare, of the one he once was, with the totem that he bore to begin with. His true totem, not the half-broken totem he held for so long. 'You must return,' they beckon. 'You must return to your roots. Return to your family. The hare must run anew.' The dreams followed him for what seemed like forever before he chose to follow them as he once had. "...I am home," he whispers to the wind, closing his eyes as he feels the cooling breeze tickle his neck. The Hare Druid, Taynuel, has returned. I'm back b*****s.

This sounds quite interesting. Nice to see Smawton's magic fingers delving into the druidic and elven. I might have to pry myself away from Legion and pop on the server to check these events out. xD

The Puma Druid grimaces upon hearing the news of the attempted murder of a pregnant 'ker woman. "How far a group can fall in the pursuit of supremacy that they would scorn the life of a babe to get their way," he mutters, adjusting the ever-present bone pipe clamped between his teeth. "A race that bears the burden of infertility should never seek to destroy a blessing from the Springmother herself. May the perpetrator be gored upon the horns of the Huntsman," he grumbles, shaking his head in dismay.

The Puma Druid hums as his eyes fall upon the very familiar statue, a look of pride gleaming in his eyes upon hearing the salesman's comment on it. He glances to him, tilting his head to the side. "I wonder if you found the sister to that statue," he muses to him before continuing on his way. "It's part of a set."

The wind carries news of the Rex's end to the hot plains of the savannah where the druids lie, a lone dark elf perching high upon the mountain overlooking grove and sea. Tiny plumes of smoke rise from the end of his snowy white pipe, the previous wooden one replaced with one carved of bone. He exhales slowly, closing his eyes. "We had our differences, as do all in this lifetime," he says softly, returning his gaze to the ocean and watching the waves lap against the shore. "You fought for your people, and what you felt was right. You pass with respect and dignity. May your hunts be ever fruitful in the lands hereafter." A large puff of smoke leaves his lips as he sighs, closing his eyes and resuming meditation.

The Puma Druid reads over the guide from his perch in the trees, sipping a mug of coffee. He slouches in his spot, closing his eyes. "I still win," he replies in reference to his response from the same guide an elven year earlier.

The Puma Druid perches within a tree in the mountains, gazing out at the plagued lands on the orcish borders. A soft frown remains upon his expression, a certain pain in his gaze. His staff rests across his back in its usual place, those attuned to nature able to sense the life within it. His legs are crossed in a lotus fashion, his hands resting on his knees as he contemplates the events that have taken place so recently. The repeated attacks on the grove. Threats of death, of burning, vengeance for their actions against the orc’s wishes to serve the spirit of decay. Still, it was not in his nature to remain hateful. He leans back against the trunk of the tree, pulling out a scroll and quill, as well as a small inkwell. He dips the end of his quill into the ink, wiping away the excess on the lip of the inkwell, and proceeds to write a message. Upon its completion, he blows lightly on the ink to dry it. Then, he pulls a single olive branch from his pack, rolling up the scroll around it and binding it shut with a verdant ribbon. A sharp whistle leaves his lips. He need only wait a moment before one of the many eagles that dwell the frozen mountains of Tyravik glide down, snatching the scroll from his hands. A single word, and the bird flies off to drop it off for the intended recipient. Rex Kharak’Raguk, For a long time we have been at odds with each other. From the moment you entered the Oasis Grove asking we erect a shrine to the spirit Orgon, few interactions between us have ended in less than violence. But the past is past, and what is done is done. Despite the attacks and the blood of my brothers and sisters spilled upon the earth, I am not one to hold a grudge. You only wished the best for your people, and that much I can respect and relate to. Let us join for a matching cause. You do not want your people to become slaves to Orgon. My people are duty-sworn to protect balance. We can help you take his power from him. We can help to repair the lands still tainted and plagued within your borders. Let us help you. We ask for nothing in return. We hold no ulterior motive. We only wish to heal the damage done to nature along the road. Let the shamans and the druids join as one to restore balance both in nature and in the spirit world. Perhaps it is not too late. Perhaps we can still bring a stop to this. I extend this olive branch as a sign of peace between us, that we may move forward and fight as one to protect that which we both hold dear. Together, there may still be hope. And if not... better to fight with all your strength and die trying than to lie down and allow the inevitable. Signed, Puma Druid Taynuel Archdruid of the Druidic Order

I summon a bucket of piss.

I for one would love to see one of these hanging around in casual roleplay. Not just for an event that gets done once and forgotten. I'd absolutely play one. +1

I agree with Charlie's point. If I, for example, have to go on a forced hiatus without having the chance to warn my fellow guild members or step down from my position, I don't feel I should be punished for something beyond my control by revoking my ability to harness the powers of nature I have at the time of departure. Furthermore, I shouldn't have to go to whoever has become a teacher in my absence to unlock magics that my character has had for two full years going on three now. The same counts for Ouity or Arik, or Respiren himself as examples. Druids have always kept a sharp eye on who has been attuned, who is active, and who is inactive. Anyone that takes five minutes to skim over our guild post on the forums can see we have every druid listed from Respiren to the most recent attunement with very little margin of error. Additionally, under no circumstances do druids limit their numbers to a set amount of people capable of learning or using the magic. The only limits are IC precedents and requirements for a character's mindset in order to be considered for joining the ranks of our Order. Right now we number at fifty-two druids active over the course of the month, all of which have been recorded with date of attunement and approximate tier levels in accordance to time attuned, activity level, and use of magic. I really don't see a reason to keep druids on this list. At most, I see it hindering the RP of potentially returning veterans of druidism by forcing them to seek out a teacher - teachers which, by the way, they would have no way of knowing who are or their capabilities icly as they've been away on whatever spiritual journey they choose for the reason of their hiatus - just so they can rp a magic they have taken literal years irl to master. If Respiren came back tomorrow and had to come to my character to help reawaken his druidic gifts, in his shoes I would take it as an extreme insult to my capabilities as a roleplayer. And as someone that a veteran had to go to in order to unlock his gifts, I too would be insulted, as this would insinuate that one of the druids that taught the druids that taught my teachers didn't know what the hell he was doing. Even as a leader of the guild, I see no reason to put that kind of power into the hands of the leaders of the Order. We regulate our own numbers as it is. We don't need the MAT to get their hands into our magic regulation any more than absolutely necessary, which for the Druidic Order this really isn't. Longest-lasting guild on the server since Aegis, baby. ;) We got this. Edit: Also worth noting is what qualifies as 'MAT business' and what qualifies as 'Druid business'. In matters of potential powergaming, contact the MAT. In matters of abuse of gifts, that would be something to be handled icly by the Order on a case-by-case basis.

The Puma Druid reads over the missive, blinking slowly with an expression of skepticism. After a long pause, he cannot help but burst into hysteric laughter. "Lich Druids. Now I really have heard it all," he cackles, falling back against the tree he perches in. "Most druids wear green and brown, and whose skin wouldn't char if it was burned long enough? I've seen some crackpot theories, but this one takes the cake!"

The tears of orphaned katana-wielding elves that lost their parents to orcish raids.

Number of players in group?: 3 Names of group members?: Eranikus, Corvoo, RideTheSky Group leader’s Skype? (can be PM’d): live:kibago753 Are there any specific magics or items you want to discuss Before getting into the dungeon to see what’s allowed?: Yes, more info via pm

In regards to the Fast Travels, I think just one per island would be good, or maybe a set amount per nation. And not just main race nations. If separate nations like Aethermoor or Caliphate or whatever heck they want to call themselves make it to 5.0 they should have at least one fast travel to their capital city. As for the raiding cap... please please please if you're gonna jack it up all the way to eight, toss those of us that don't log onto this server specifically to get roflstomped and bullied by sheer numbers a freaking bone. I don't feel like spending the start of 5.0 stuck in the mines scrambling for iron to hurriedly make us the best gear I possibly can so we don't have to worry about getting raided and losing what little stuff we have. Basic math says if you jump it to eight, its automatically going to go to pvp default with the current combatant cap for defender to no longer be default at seven. I come on this server to actually roleplay, not use the flawed minecraft-provided mechanical armor and weapons that supposedly even the playing field to pretend like I'm having a fulfilling roleplay experience. Because I am not fulfilled by clicking. I am fulfilled by telling a story. A story which cannot be so easily retold if most of it was comprised by *clicks left mouse button.*

I'd play one! It'd be interesting to see how they'd pan out, and I'd love to be involved in the building of their capital if they get accepted. I love underwater caverns so much. But what Ardor said. How do they name each other, or do they even have names that would be pronounceable in common? Would whoever found them be tasked with finding a name to fit them?

"Funny," the Puma Druid muses upon hearing of this tidbit. "I had a dedicant that was pregnant with a Mali'ame's child and she went to Haelun'or. They wanted to kill her and the child. I'm calling nonsense," he mutters, sipping his tea.