ThumperJack

The Blood-Fire Forge ______________________ Elves have always held a deep love for arts and craft of all manners. Through the brush, they have painted both serenity and chaos. Through the quill, they wrote the tales of past and present. Through the instrument, they have woven melodies that swim through ears both short and long. One such craft that has attained a long legacy of Elven names throughout many centuries is that of the hammer and anvil, the shaping of metal, and the steadying of hot flame in the furnace. Elven blacksmiths have worked a variety of metals into a variety of shapes and uses for many years, some of their works still held in the hands of the current generation today as a credit to the long-lasting craftsmanship. The Blood-Fire Forge, formerly the Autumn Fire, is one of several continuations in the line of Elven metalwork. It’s works and wares had typically been something of a quiet affair, overseen by its master, the Autumn Prince Miklaeil Arvellon. While this is still the case, its master has decided to open up the forge for group lessons in the ancient art of Elven metalworking. These lessons will be a chance for the other Elves of Irrinor, or perhaps visitors and guests, to take part in the old arts and learn some basic skills toward blacksmithing. Or perhaps one merely wishes to bring a gift to their loved one, but has no coin to pay with? Luckily for them, the master of the Blood-Fire Forge has no interest in keeping what is created in his lessons. Therefore if one thinks their hands deft enough to craft under his guidance, they are welcome to use the lessons as a means to crafting what they need. However, as any smith should have, there are rules to follow while working inside the Blood-Fire Forge. Rules: Respect the tools and the forge. Any needlessly broken equipment will be repaid with appropriate apology and possible monetary payment. Respect the forgemaster. Listen to his instructions and follow them accordingly to the best of one’s ability. Failure to comply may be met with removal from the lesson. Any and all magics related to the Void or the Dark arts are strictly prohibited. Failure to comply will result in immediate removal and a potential loss of life. If these few rules are within your capability to follow, then the Blood-Fire Forge and its forgemaster look forward to having you at one of our furnaces. _____________________________ OOC Note: Blacksmithing lessons to add a little fun and challenge to the average day of long emotes tucked away in smithy’s with only ‘No one can hear you’ to congratulate your hard work. These lessons will be geared toward players of all writing/RP skill with basic rolls and DC’s to beat and multiple attempts available. I will not implement any smithing police rules on the emotes so long as they are realistic according to the character making the actions. Have fun writing the emotes and relish the challenge the rolls bring to the table. Times for lessons will be posted in Irrinor’s schedule!

RP Name:: vosirk grandaxe MC Username: thumperjack_/southernwhiskey Discord: you have it What Nation Are You Affliated With?: none. alligned with druids Why Do You Wish To Come?: because i was told to What Skills Can You Bring?: axe. nature stuff.

Two glowing orbs shone through the brush of trees and bushes near the beginning of the bridge leading toward the Aureon plateau, their owner watching the Emerald Prince and the Lioness as the challenge was made and a response given. His lips curled upward into an almost cheshire grin, one long elven ear flicking as a bird flew past to sit upon a branch and watch as well. Clearly the Autumn Prince was enjoying the show, his student of a Lioness rising to growl at the Aspect-worshipping Red Panda. Twas an intriguing display to be sure, and of the utmost interest to him and his Wildcat goddess. He did not step out from the shadows to interfere, remaining where he stood and opening up a sack of snacks for whenever his wife doubtlessly came about to observe as well.

ThumperGiri dew it u wont

Miklaeil rumbled quietly, tales of such beast-men finding their ways to the ever-watchful and ever-listening Leopard. The recently retired ‘ame decided to take a trip out to the Marshlands, his antlered helm donned with the blood markings daubed across its visor, the autumnal hue of his glowing, druidic gaze piercing from behind it. He stood silent on the very edge of the marsh, merely staring ahead as he communed with the trees and various creatures milling about within. His form grew tense the longer he listened, his gloved hand falling to his sword pommel and gradually wrapping its digits about the handle with the crackling of leather. The wildlife of the marsh were uncomfortable, thusly he was uncomfortable. The Leopard wasted no time as he strode off down the road, veering off from the trees until he was well away from the marshlands, then disappearing into the brush to return home.

Hunters of Blood and Flame Followers of the Sanguine Fire Since the birth of the Creed, it has remained an unknown and quiet addition to the culture of Mali’ame and Druids alike. Its teachings reserved only for those who were thought to be wild in their heart and strong of body. That changes now with the creation of this group, our ways becoming open to any who seek to learn the ways of the Sanguine Fire. As the ways of the Creed say, those who follow it are the apex predators and guardians in the Wild. They hunt the corrupt and tainted of the natural world and cut them out, they purify the debris left behind through blood and fire, and they do it all with the very spirit of a Mani in their souls. The Hunters and Warriors Devout Followers of the creed who show their devotion to the Wild Gods through hunts and battle alike. Typically found in the professions of bounty hunting and tests of battle prowess in the ongoing effort of collecting trophies and adding onto their lists of grand testaments. They are not hard to pick out in a crowd due to the common theme surrounding Sanguine dress and armor. Usually found in padded and studded leather or half-plate, covered in trophies and adornments. Another giveaway is the crimson daubs of paint (or perhaps blood) marked upon their varied armor pieces. Heralds of Blood-Fire The Heralds are the attuned druii of the Creed, wielders of kuila-infused black ferrum weaponry and natural communion with the most wild places in the world. Their duties are mostly the same as the Devoted, spending much of their time as hunters and warriors, only with a more spiritual connotation added to their work along with the added duties of watching the Balance constantly before leading the Devoted to purge any taint threatening its sanctity. The Heralds also act as guides for the rest of the devoted Sanguine. There are only ever allowed seven Heralds within the Creed, for too many may cause an imbalance in the strength of the Sanguine just as too many predators tilt the natural life in the wild. When a place opens up in the Heralds, a current Herald takes on a student from the devoted Sanguine to be taught. Current Heralds The Leopard The Raven The Fledglings The uninitiated of the Creed are those not yet tested by the Wild Gods, and thus have yet earned the right to their Sanguine armor and weaponry. They are encouraged to accompany the initiated and the Heralds on their hunts in hopes of being tested. Once tested, the Heralds will decide whether or not the Fledgling has earned their place among the rest of the Sanguine. OOC This group is essentially mandalorian druids. Bounty Hunting, Taint purging, a lot of event seeking and RP! If you want to join the Creed of the Sanguine Fire, come to Irrinor and seek out Miklaeil or Layla Arvellon IRP! IGNs are ThumperJack_ and Numirya!

The Leopard stood before the shrine to his goddess, the burning flame glistening in his tired, cat-like gaze. He murmured his prayers as he always did, asked the Wildcat for answers as he always did, and received only the fading glimpse of felines in the grass. It had been some time since he had gotten anything more than that, and the silence had not troubled him until now. Though the reason for such silence was immediately obvious, it was a test. The Wildcat did enjoy her tests. The Leopard knew exactly what he had to do, rising from his seat on the ground and striding off toward the city with a vigorous gleam in his glowing eyes. ________________________________________________ Miklaeil Arvellon, Annilir of el’Okarn’ame, stood before a crowd of assembled Elves and assorted visitors from other lands. He stood straight with a soft, yet wild, grin on his face. “Lliran! I stand before you today, on the cusp of our new age, with glee and excitement in my heart and mind. We are about to enter into a time of prosperity and good health as we have never known it before. What a sight it is! With so much change and potential coming, I thought it fitting to add a little more. I have led the Forest Guard since the fall of the Diarchy, through the good and the bad. I remember leading our rangers to fell many a voidal monstrosity at Terror’s portal, pushing back bandits and vagabonds from our realm, and maintaining order in our city. I look on these memories with a fondness in my heart, for while I may have shouted the commands, it was the Okarn’ame themselves who had faith in my decisions. For this, I cannot thank you all enough, and I hope you offer the same trust and loyalty to he who will be replacing me.. Kalius Tresery.” He paused a moment as the crowd talked amongst themselves, lifting a hand for quiet and continuing. “It has been an honor to lead this guard, of whom I consider to be the very best in all the ‘ame’s history, and an even greater honor to have fought alongside each and every one of the brave soldiers who wear the uniform. I hope I get the chance to do it again. Until then, lliran.. Asul lente karinto, ame nae evareh.”

A letter would be sent back to the Mali’fenn in plain parchment, dropped overhead to wherever it had come from. “Aesilnoth, You dare write to me accusing me of negligence of duty when the only reason I was put into such a situation that required me to make that decision was because of your failure to uphold the duties of the uniform I trusted you with. I offered you sympathy when your own mind turned against you within our woodland walls, causing you to draw steel upon the citizens you promised to protect. I went to you personally, advising you to seek out help with your mental situation and to find ways to move past it. You declined my advice in a drunken haze, leaving my company to drink yourself further into oblivion. The only fault of mine in this entire mess is not stripping you of your duties then and there. But my sympathy for your condition stayed my hand, I thought that if I could fight through the same pain then you could as well. Clearly I was wrong, for the next day I woke to hear you had threatened and attacked the Grand Prince of Fenn, our closest ally. I cannot even fathom the mind that would think such a move was a good idea unless it was insane. I took a few guards with me to follow the Fennic envoy that had come to notify us of the impending doom to our alliance due to the actions of a mad man. Do you know what we found when arrived? I found my officer, my soldier, my old friend, sat in the midst of a tavern begging to be killed. Even then, I told the guard to only subdue you. Then you started fighting us. My decision to bring the blade to your neck was one of mercy for a man so lost from himself that friend and foe were all the same. Even then, I let you live. I did not have to heed the order given to me, I could have followed through. I did not. I stripped you of your ranks and duties to Irrinor and left you with the people you had attacked. Everything after was not mine to control, thus I cannot be blamed for it. I followed through with my duty despite taking every opportunity to give you a chance. Your blame is falsely placed, your challenge wrongly issued. It is denied.” -Miklaeil Arvellon

Looks neat! I love the decor work in those screenshots

The Annilir of el’Okarn’ame shook his head as he pushed the corpse of the human raider from his sword, blood spurting out onto the cobbles at his feet. A disgusted noise escaped his lips while gazing at the noble’s still eyes, murmuring under his breath, “Fools.” The human had somehow found his way into the woodland walls of Irrinor alongside another of his short-lived race on horseback, rushing into the city square demanding weapons be dropped and making to kill the guards milling about. Yet there were no screams of fright or panicked attempts at escape, only the clean hiss of drawn steel as everyone in the square drew their weapons and charged the human invaders. The pair of raiders were taken from their steeds almost immediately, sustaining wounds from the many mali’ame guards and citizenry that rushed to dispatch them. Whimpering they fled for the gate, only to find themselves trapped by their own folly with iron bars blocking their freedom from the Irrinite retribution. The Annilir snorted softly as he watched the bodies get carried away to be used for ritual and then put on display for the rest of the failed human raiders that sought to pillage, “Make ready for the next, no doubt they will bring more bodies to line the mound.”

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Miklaeil rubbed his face, just returned home from time spent upon the battlefield to his resting family, as he read over a parchment set upon his kitchen counter, “Clearly the ‘fenn have the superior growth of beets.”

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniform.

A roaring laughter erupted from the office of the Annilir as he read the notice, “HA! Those ‘aheral.. WHEW, are they a hoot sometimes..” He then read through it further, squinting slowly, “Oh. They’re serious.”

Miklaeil Arvellon, Annilir of Irrinor’s Forest Guard, receives the notice with a small frown. A messenger would be sent to Curon, assuring his attendance to the summit.

Accepted. Come find myself or a Medirir for your uniforms.