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About bromadan

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    Stone Miner
  • Birthday 05/23/1996

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  1. bromadan

    Lets discuss NEXUS, INFLATION and WHY LC IS BAD!

    I loved Nexus. I always thought removing the system itself was a complete mistake, as all that was really needed was tweek the percentages on armor and weapons, including NOT releasing diamond armor. But that is just my personal opinion.
  2. bromadan

    Fourth Generation Necromancy

    My spooky senses are tingling...... for the better 😉
  3. bromadan

    Darkness in Dominion leadership?

    A certain Lich began to laugh loudly, knowing it to be true!
  4. bromadan

    Gms ban an entire 40 people so Renatus can win

    Sometimes I wonder if Renatus, way back in the day that formed the Empire, was like this too. If so, then I am sad people still look up to that. For the OOC hatred always displayed and the targeting to get pixal power. If not, then what a way to tarnish a legacy.
  5. bromadan

    Gms ban an entire 40 people so Renatus can win

  6. bromadan

    The Fall Of Laklul

    Alaric looks towards the side at all the corpses he used for the Ritual, blinking a bit. "F**k me... lets do this."
  7. bromadan

    The Death of Rakim

    Jack Amador stood in the Seven Skies, a smile upon his face as he was finally reunited with his old comrade. "About time old man.."
  8. bromadan

    bblackish's Application Team Application

    I’ve known her for several years, and have seen her hold roles on other servers that helped new players. She was very good at it!! +1
  9. MC Name: Bromadan Character's Name: Alaric Falkwick Character's Age: 48 Character's Race: Lich Link to your accepted MA: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/169166-ma-mysticism-bromadan2_0/ What magic(s) will you be teaching?: Mysticism Summarise the Lore of this magic(s): Mysticism is art of manipulation of a substance known as Ectoplasm. As Lifeforce is to a Necromancer, Ectoplasm is to a Mystic. This is the source of their power and what in turns makes up most of the creations of this art form. Ghosts, spirits, Gravens and Paleknights all have this essential component which in turn makes the Mystic the manipulator of many of these creatures. From humble beginnings a Mystic is adorned in Ectoplasm from a Wight, a master of this artform, in a ritual known as crowning. From there the aspiring Mystic learns and preforms a series of rituals he or she can learn, eventually, if allowed, would ascend to the higher tiers of the Art and ascend to Wightdom. The common trait among Mystics is what occurs once they began to cast their magic. As a Mystic begins to call upon his own pool of Ectoplasm (A mixture of Mana and life-force), their body begins to 'gleam'. Their bodies begin to take on a more transparent appearance, a look more spectral. Their bodies look mummified or corrupted, their flesh peeling. Then, that is when a ritual or spell begins to form at the will of the Mystic. Write up a lesson that your character would give to a student: Alaric stepped down from the large rock as he held a small dagger in hand, approaching the newly made Mystic. "Now, what I shall instruct you in is called Saturation. It is when we coat our Ectoplasm along a blade of your choice, either be dagger, sword, axe, anything." He began as he went to stand beside his pupil, showing him the dagger that would be part of the demonstration. The new recruit glanced down towards the blade as he gave a small nod, raising a brow as he watched and listened intently to the Mystic. "Now first, as always we gleam. Remember? Good, now do such!" Alaric began his clothing and body began to shimmer in a sickly green-blue color, his skin twisting and turning as it flaked and peeled to reveal the corrupted flesh that laid beneath. A truly hideous thing to gaze upon as if it was a rotten corpse wrapped in cloth. Alaric turned towards his pupil with a sly smirk, his crusty lips twisting and breaking at the movements. "Now, do as I do. Come on boy, you know how this works." And thus the young magic user nodded, a bit terrified at the look of his teacher yet he averted his eyes, taking a deep breath as his body began to become translucent, though his body did not become as mummified and corrupted as his teacher. A sign of how different they are in knowledge and power they are in the Art form. "Good, now. This is a rather simple thing to do yet Saturation leads to several Rituals and spells you may cast. This is the catalyst. What you do is essentially coat your blade with your Ectoplasm. FEEL it pour out of you, creeping along the edge of your weapon. Like so." The Mystic continued as he held out his dagger, a low gasp leaving him as veins of the similar green-blue color crept along the man's fingers and over the blade, making it look corrupted in nature. "See, like this.. Yes, with a blow struck with this dagger the Ectoplasm may pump forth into your foe, causing a variety of outcomes depending on what you wish to do. But, that is for another time. Just focus on doing this without becoming too exhausted." And with that Alaric sheathed the dagger, allowing the Acolyte to practice this technique for the remaining day. Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it: N/A Do you agree to keep the MT updated on the status of your magic app by using the Magic List Errors topic?: Yes Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app: N/A
  10. bromadan

    The Tournament of the Sun's Smile

    MC Name: Bromadan RP Name: Rodrik Tullin Nation: Haense Age: 22
  11. bromadan

    The Death of an Old man

    The Death of an old man (credit to WesleyChen) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D59NyexPnU8 The leaves brushed and blew in the wind, a gust that symbolized the season of the Harvest. The colors of the world would change soon, from a vibrant green to a peaceful orange and red. The old man clothed in black, a silver cross hanging from his belt, made his pilgrimage to the great city of Senntisten. Hoping to make amends in the final moments of his life, or so he hoped. Soldiers and warbands from all kinds of Kingdoms patrolled the road networks, checking caravans and citizens alike for enemies of the state. The old priest slipped by without much attention, no one cares for a aged priest that wanders. His bag wrapped around him was clenched tightly to the frail figure of him, not wishing to part from him as his grey eyes glanced off towards the wheatfields of Renatus-Marna. Seeing the workers toil in the fields, gathering the harvest for the coming fall and winter. In these moments, when alone and in the presence of GOD and nature, his mind slipped to the older days. From the early days of his childhood as a third-born son to a Noble House. Not much worth to many people. He was not needed to be an heir, to be a marriage made off. No, he didn’t feel that needed. He wore the armor and tabard of his House once, to make him feel powerful and worth something. He had even fought in a battle at the ripe age of 14. He fought against the Romstun hordes as the Empire declared them enemies. The blood that soaked the field, the screams that filled the air, poor Jack didn’t know what to do. He killed a man, shoving a blade through a footman’s back as he was occupied with an Imperial soldier. He took a man's life, who could forgive such a thing…. ..God can. Young Jack approached a vineyard near the swamps of Marna, exploring in his family’s armor. He assumed nothing of it till he heard a voice call out, “You, boy. Who are you?” Jack turned to find that it was none other than his Holiness, Everard. The boy didn’t know what to do, but kept to his polite manners and did the proper procedures as he was taught. They went inside and talked for a large portion of the day, of GOD and the Church. Perhaps.. GOD could love Jack, to forgive him of anything he might do. Perhaps the Church will have a need of him. And from there on he declared his life to the cloth. From that day a friendship was born between he and his Holiness Everard. A mentor to a student. Through the coming years he was arose to a status as the priest of Adelberg, to serve the Cathedral there. Through hard work and diligence Everard appointed him to be Archbishop of the Crownlands of the Empire and even the legate to the Emperor himself. The now old man smiled at the thoughts, proud of his younger self. It was there in Adelburg he fell in love even, with a young woman named Madison. Then to his ascension to the position of Vice Chancellor, it was a day he would never forget. Yet not all of life was good and bountiful. Madison had passed on from the world, the lands of Axios embroiled in war with the emergence of Renatus and the declaration of the Third Crusade. It was a time period that caused stress to many, and heartbreak to others. The old man stopped before the great walls of Senntisten, having reached his destination. He made his way inside, slowly making his way up towards the great Adamantine Cathedral that overlooked the city, memories flooding him like a tidal wave. He recalled when his great mentor, his Holiness Everard, died. When the Synod was called upon to elect someone new to take the Exalted Throne. He recalls his heavy breathing as he made his speech, and the moment when the votes were called. “Jack of Mardon..” “Jack of Mardon..” “Jack of Mardon..” “Jack of Mardon..” Four votes in his name, with an abstain. He was chosen by his peers and GOD to be the next High Pontiff. Oh how the bells rang with its glorious news, he could even hear the bells ring like they used too. However he stopped himself, a smile soon fading as he saw a man in a familiar suit of armor donning the tabard of the Order of Saint Lucien. His old friend, Rakim.. They exchanged a few words, then were brought inside the Cathedral. His grey eyes shifted around the great church he once stood in to preach, to talk to Nobles and Commoners alike. He sat himself with a grunt onto one of the pews to relax, exchanging a few more words with Sir Rakim. The Knight questioned Jack about the things he had done, and why, and he gave his best answers that he could. He never regretted any decision he had made. Jack was always a stubborn man to be sure. However chants from the other room echoed, The High Pontiff and his successor, Jude, preached loudly. Rakim mentioned that members of the Royal Family were inside, and best they leave in order to spare Jack any.. Painful execution. A kind gesture, in of itself. Outside they stood instead, on the stone and wooden ramparts as they overlooked the city. Words and ideas exchanged, a last conversation they were to have. The old man turned towards his comrade to continue yet Rakim drew a blade out on him. His hand was shaky, Jack’s voice was soft. Jack knew this was what laid before him when he came here, he was Excommunicated after all, it was only right. “Wish to make peace?” Rakim asked, motioning to the Heavens that laid bright in the sky. “I made my peace before coming here, in the woods of my journey. I do have one request, however.” The Old Priest asked, his voice low and quiet as a gentle breeze brushed against the two friends. “Speak.” “Do not forget the man that I was. The world may stain my name, and i do not blame them. But you, Rakim, do not forget me and the conversations we once had.” And with that Jack stood closer to Rakim, a soft grunt escaping him as he felt the steel pierce flesh. The blade sunk deep into his fragile body, easily destroying some vital organs in his stomach. “I forgive you..” Jack whispered to him, offering a final nod as he slumped down onto the wooden ramparts to seat himself, a pale and sickly hand reaching to cover the wound that was given. It was at this time that the High Pontiff Jude came down as he spotted us, along with a retinue of Soldiers and Clergy. They came to see Jack live in his final moments. A brave Holy Knight came quick to Jack, passing Rakim as he went to apply pressure to the wound, telling the old priest to keep it tight. However it was of no use, jack knew. Jude however quickly came to Jack as well, beginning to pray loudly to GOD and the Heavens. Life was slipping away from him, it was close now. His Holiness then lifted the Anathema on Jack, allowing him to ascend to the Seven Skies once more. It was a final peace given upon him, a feeling of solace gifted upon Jack.. “Do not forget the man that I was..” The final words of Jack Amador, before his grey eyes peered up towards the Pontiff and his men, before peering up at the starry sky and soon faded into Darkness… The life of the High Pontiff-Emeritus, Clement the Third, The man, Jack Amador, Had breathed his last. ((OOC Note: Keep OOC comments to a minimum my friends, as always. It was very good RP that occured and I enjoyed every second. Ya boy Brom <3))
  12. bromadan

    [Ghoul] [CA] Nathanael

    Was unaware of it. My B
  13. bromadan

    [Ghoul] [CA] Nathanael

    Pew pew
  14. I've spoken to Mick only a few times, but each one of those times he was rather a kind fellow. I like em, plus 1