HeroOfDuLoc

"A man is not truly a man without ambition, and the ambition to master arcana is one of the most treacherous pursuits. To truly master all branches, you must become one with the arcane, giving yourself to the void. As man and woman become one in marriage, so does man and the void. To penetrate the veil you must take the risk that you will not be the same man you once were, and once you have penetrated and lifted the veil, you are now man and wife, as above so below. Do not think this man insane, for many weaker men do much worse things in the pursuit of power, forcing their will upon the innocent, causing war, famine, death. If you cannot love what you are in pursuit of, what is the point of pursuing it in the first place?"

Tanoshi-shi たのし氏 Origin The Tanoshi descend from revered elder Tanoshi Onara and Oshibori Omocha, founders of the Tanoshi Kabuki Hall within the second layer of Yamatai. Their successors, Tanoshi Kogurashi and Koyama Kaori continued the traditions and performances developed by their predecessors, yet the Tanoshi Kabuki Hall remained a humble playhouse. It wasn’t until Kogurashi was succeeded by his son, Tanoshi Soyokaze, did their performances become truly known. Through an extravagant array of practical effects, fireworks, and puppeteering so realistic, the Tanoshi Kabuki Hall was the talk of the entirety of the second layer. This was not without consequence, as word flowed not only down stream, but up as well. Word of the Tanoshi and their performances had reached the high walls of the first layer, bringing some of the Shogun’s own advisors to come and see for themselves. This undesired attention grew and grew, until eventually a personal request from Shogun Yorinobu himself arrived at the doorstep of the Tanoshi Kabuki Hall. The next morning, the entirety of the hall was stripped bare, leaving only the building itself. The entirety of the Tanoshi performance troupe had disappeared overnight. Presumably scattering throughout Yamatai, though there has been little to no word of any of the troupe being found. Eventually Tanoshi Soyokaze made his way to Braevos, settling in Koyo-Kuni, where he worked as a retainer to the three Legendary Sanbushi. However as the years went on, Soyokaze remained relatively idle for many decades, until the wayward Oyashi made his way to Kurai-Kuni, founding the new Tanoshi Kabuki Hall. Symbols Tanoshi no Omen たのしのお面 - The kamon of clan Tanoshi, a circular mask decorated with an exaggerated impression of the average Tanoshi. A symbol of their heritage and a reminder to maintain constant poise and grace, a necessary skill for any kabuki. Kumadori 隈取 - Brightly colored stripes or patterns symbolizing aspects of the person’s character, for the Tanoshi, it is traditionally reserved for those that have drawn another man’s blood, the only exception being during theatrical performances. Traits Each Tanoshi bears pale white skin, their hair tending to be a variety of bright colors, and their lips a matching shade. A common fashion trend in the second layer of Yamatai, for the Tanoshi, however, it is natural. Compared to other features, their eyes are an unremarkable shade of brown. Every Tanoshi bears wide set features, a strong brow and frame, yet strange gangly limbs. Clan Relations Despite the longevity of clan Tanoshi’s stay in Koyo-Kuni, clan relations have diminished beyond those of the Legendary Sanbushi, as up until his untimely death, Kato Oijin and the Ugokoyama have kept Tanoshi Soyokaze as a retainer for many years. Currently clan Tanoshi remains loyal to the Ugokoyama, and sympathetic to the Kato and Hirano. Property Tanoshi Kabuki Hall, Kurai-Kuni - At the back of the main plaza, a casino-theater surmounted by a massive maneki-neko, belonging to Clan Ugokoyama. However, the Ugokoyama have graciously allowed the Tanoshi unlimited rights to the theater hall. Kabuki Stall, Kurai-Kuni - A small two by one meter room, reserved for Kabuki only. Within is a small ceramic stool with a lid, inside a pool of water, presumably for cleansing oneself. Despite the smell, it is rather comfortable, and one may rest undisturbed for many hours.

NOTE - READ FIRST Tanoshi no Jihaku Tanoshi’s Confession Tanoshi Soyokaze I am Tanoshi Soyokaze, the child of Koyama Kaori and Tanoshi Kogurashi, a once renowned shinobi. He himself is the child of Oshibori Omocha, and Tanoshi Onara, the venerated elder of our village and veteran of many wars. This confession is my life's history. Our clan did not originate from Yamatai, and we were not always kabuki, as has been told. We Tanoshi were once a clan of skilled shinobi, living within Kōfūgakure, a hidden village settled in the mountains of Fukukaze. I had never laid eyes upon our village, nor the mountains that hold it dearly, as many years before my birth, my father’s reputation gathered him quite the attention. A samurai, living within the middle layer of Yamatai, for reasons unbeknownst to me, wished to take my father on as a retainer. Eventually he gave in, at the behest of my mother, who longed for the allure of life within the middle layer. In my youth, I wandered expansive halls and raced through lively markets, exploring the middle layer of Yamatai. Though it is all I had ever known, the constant noise, bright lights, and extravagant parades, it had always felt foreign to me, and once I tired of the excitement, I retreated to the halls of our lord. For many years I practiced, my efforts entirely dedicated to replicating my father, a powerful and respected shinobi. At the age of twelve, I was to graduate from ‘Little Fukukaze’s Little Shinobi Academy’ and become a genin, however it did not come to pass. In the preliminary trials leading up to my graduation, I caught the eye of an advisor to the Shogun, Akunin Kimoi. Although both my father and teachers were keenly aware of my unique chakra, they did not know its source, considering it the quirk of a prodigy. However, to Akunin, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Days later he met with my father, speaking for barely an hour before their discussion erupted into shouting, my father in disbelief, and Akunin’s worried hushes. I crept up to the study where they met, carefully laying my ear against the wall, and listened from that point on. Akunin spoke, assuring my father, “Soyokaze is a 人柱力.” A term I didn’t understand at the time, he promised that Shogun Yorinobu would reward my father extravagantly in exchange for my service. My father, despite his shock, knew very well what this may entail for me. Gathering his senses, he accepted Akunin's offer, giving plenty of time for him and his company to leave, before coming to me. I had rushed to my room, pretending to paint as they gave each other their formal farewells, “We must leave. Now.” My father commanded, he did not explain, and I did not ask, leaving with only the clothes on my back and the muddied paintbrush I held clutched in my hand. My life, as I had known it, was over from then on. Bereft of homeland Despite all pleasure and ease I am still longing I cannot clearly remember the time we spent on the run, although I recall, I did not feel afraid. In fact, I was much happier than I had ever been living within the second layer of Yamatai. For almost a year we travelled throughout the outer layer, and whenever we had a moment of respite, I learned directly from my father; how to be a man, a shinobi, and most importantly, how to truly be yourself. However beautiful it was, this time was not meant to last. As we neared a port on the border of Yamatai and Fukukaze, we were ambushed by a group of rogue shinobi, seeking to claim the bounty placed upon my father and I’s heads. This is the last I saw of my father, my hero and role model. I watched, slowly sailing away from port, while he and the rogue shinobi fought. I could not look away, yet with every moment that passed, a pain dug deeper and deeper into my heart. A fierce battle it was, but in the end, they beheaded my father. Holding his head by its fiery red mane, the rogue shinobi lifted it unceremoniously towards the crowd gathered, forgetting my bounty entirely as the crowd descended upon them. I sailed on, hiding away from the crew hired to take us to Fukukaze, rarely coming out from behind the cargo, and only taking enough food to last me for a brief period of time. After many weeks, or months, I emerged from the cargohold, realizing we had not made way to Fukukaze afterall, but to the Kusari Isles. The crew plotted to hand me off to local shimakou, yet fortune continued to guide me away from despicable fate, time and time again. Using what my father had taught me, I escaped from the ship as we headed to port, ducking into the crowds as soon as I made landfall. I walked on and on, until I believed myself to be free of those pursuing me, descending into a den that I deemed comfortable, if it could fit that description. Pulling my hood tight, I sat alone, between a group of rambunctious workers drinking and clashing mugs, and a series of individuals, slumped over with their opium pipes still in hand, the contents ever burning. I stayed there, a boy just over the age of twelve, in a den of likely thieves and addicts. I am not sure how long I spent gazing across the bar, long enough that I realized the constant haze was getting to me. I leaned forth to leave, but then an elderly, hoarse voice whispered beside me, “Soyokaze?” My head snapped to the side, clenching my teeth as I reached for the kunai tucked into my waistband. Suddenly I recognized the man as Yamainu, a friend of my father. I had only met him once, many years before, but I remembered him well. I embraced Yamainu at once, in spite of the reek of opium, he was my only possible sanctuary in the midst of jigoku. He dragged me from the den at once, and left the island we met upon, rowing for Tokoko. It was not until we made landfall that I released Yamainu’s clothes, breaking down, I revealed the fate of my father. The mighty oak burns Branches and leaves turned to ash The acorn persists I spoke further, telling Yamainu what Akunin revealed to my father that day. His eyes widened, but what remained of his honor did not falter. We abandoned our rowboat, descending deep into the jungles of Tokoko, as we walked, Yamainu admitted to me what fate had befallen him since we last met. All those years ago, he intended to return to Fukukaze, but a group of pirates had captured the boat he was on, and many of them were forced to work aboard their ship. Ultimately, the more time Yamainu spent in the Kusari Isles, the more addicted he became to the various substances plaguing the land. We made way to lands long unventured by men, in spite of the massive mosquitos, however, due to Yamainu’s stench, we were not troubled much by them. As time went on, I awoke one night to Yamainu tossing and turning, rising and falling, opening and closing his eyes. Whenever we came upon a stream, he’d always drink deeply, despite what muck lay within it. I came to realize the man was not crazed, but suffering from the lack of what he had given his life to for many years, killing himself for my sake. Eventually Yamainu recovered, and so had his smell, leading to the return of the mosquitos. We fled from the jungle, seeking refuge in a cave beneath the cliffside, where I spent the next four years. There we made a simple life for ourselves, as Yamainu was raised in the mountains of Fukukaze, he knew some of what was good to eat, and what to avoid. We built up our little homestead there in the cavern, constructing a shanty within. We even raised a decently sized patch of root vegetables, but most importantly, Yamainu honed the skills my father had taught me, turning me into a true shinobi. On my sixteenth birthday I had a peculiar dream, a land of ice and stone, a land plagued with chaos, and of a journey beyond. A whisper rang throughout, “J e n n y . . ” Suddenly, I sprang awake, desperately looking everywhere, yet Yamainu was nowhere to be found. All I could find was a note, “The 子烏 said you are ready. Thank you, and goodbye.“ I held the letter, tracing its edges for an unknown amount of time, “I am alone once more”, I thought. Yet despair did not come, the opposite, a feeling of immense courage welled up inside of me, and off I traveled from the cave. With a bright smile, I ran throughout the jungle, bouncing about and swinging from vines, imagining I discovered an appropriate vessel, just upon the shore, and as I made my way to a clearing, there it was. A beautiful sail boat, just as I pictured. I sprang forth, and the rags I had long worn shed from my body, folding into an assortment of pink and yellow fabrics, tied together, literally, with a green sash, not too dissimilar from what I had worn as a child. I had become a man, yet I was the boy I once was, long ago. I emigrated from Oyashima with but one regret, I never laid eyes upon Kōfūgakure, although I have found a new home for our clan, Kurai-Kuni. It is here that I laid my foundation, and where those most precious to me call home. Tanoshi Kogurashi 996 - 950 Kamijikan

An aging imperial herald, long trained in the art of traditional heraldry, sobs in his bed at the decree.

why nerf when you can just report powergamers?

I think all criminals should be banned. Drug addicts/dealers, illegal immigrants, jay walkers, people who go over the speed limit, white people, etc

if we banned different races in roleplay there would be no need for racism

You admit the spells are mostly useless. . . . Your mistake is that I'm criticizing femurlord directly (who I am friends with, you don't need to take offense for him), and not the Dark CA community in general. Once again, no actual response to the fact that these are supplements for frost witch rituals, which apparently are also useless according to Agy, except for healing, reviving, or for marts (which btw, is what I hear to be the main complaint of playing a frost witch, that it is difficult for frost witches to be revived because of a lack of frost witches). If all of these things are useless and a series frost witches have decided to leave the CA after a couple of weeks, either your filter for creating frost witches isn't strong enough, or people find playing in the CA tiresome or unenjoyable, which I would recommend a rewrite to the main magic rather than an addition.

1. The disabling of; manipulating and conjuring ice, summoning an ice sword, temporary mending, and helping in rituals, an understandable defect, but two of these can be easily supplemented by carrying a sword and alchemical remedies (which affect them normally), and since going below 3 warmth causes further defects, they may hesitate to even use these spells because they can be supplemented. 2. femurlord often walks around in a decrepit, smelling, old man disguise with sagging flesh, but if you immediately called him out as darkspawn you would likely be called a metagamer because there's no proof beyond him being a decrepit, smelling, old man with sagging flesh. Sure, your eyes glow, but if someone considered that horribly frostbitten person anything but a horribly frostbitten person, and tried to kill them, they would likely also be called a metagamer. 3. I don't think mental disabilities and self harm are much of a defect, which begin once they go below 3 Warmth, as most darkspawn roleplay the former already, and the latter a nuisance when they already need to steal the warmth of others (which can be considered a chore in itself). Utilizing 'Cold Touch' which while the same emotes as other Undead draining spells, can be considered stronger simply because the drained person forgets everything leading up to the interaction. I don't believe this generates roleplay beyond simple encounters where people are attacked and drained, leaving them to roleplay feeling cold and frostbitten, which they don't have to seek healing for, besides any injuries inflicted in the combat leading up to that. There is no mention that Jokul have to wait any amount of time to learn and cast spells between their connection/transformation, and it is not described how they learn their spells. There is nothing stopping a frost mother from doing as I described, connecting a Jokul, using them for Disperse, and disconnecting them. Also, forcing someone, if disconnected, to forget everything that happened while they were a Jokul? How is this meant to generate roleplay? I don't believe this piece is entirely necessary, even as a 'trial period', as most of these abilities can simply be supplemented by other things, and mainly serves as an avenue to complete frost witch rituals without the need of other frost witches, considering one frost mother would be able to make a total of FIVE Jokul.

No cooldown or time required to be created? Instant disconnection of the jøkur if they refuse? This seems like an FA written purely to supplement the amount of Frost Witches required to conduct their rituals, more than a few of them requiring two or three witches to be together, and being able to instantly create 5 of these guys, they start with MAX warmth, they then can immediately use Disperse and take part in a ritual, this is basically a recipe to instantly conduct rituals and disconnect people after they've been useful, without having to deal with connecting and disconnecting frost witches who may potentially work against you. also. . . .. . . . . . . . froststalker. . . . EDIT: Also, there doesn't seem to be any actual effect caused by lacking Warmth, except for looking decrepit. For something that they would need and crave, this is very lacking mechanically, though I believe mana systems to be more bothersome than groundbreaking, anyways.

Both of these are correct, pointed out by wowj, a large amount of ST material is just collecting dust. The list is from this thread, showing there is definitely a lot of material floating around, though it is never really seen except in the hands of a few groups.

MC Name: HeroOfDuLoc Discord: Nick Image: Description of Image: An Oyashiman kamon, belonging to the Tanoshi clan in Sakuragakure, a stylized smiley face with kabuki makeup. Dimensions: 1x1

Da Yeller’s Decree A terribly joyous low goblin, strapped in a primitive leather flying contraption, gliding over a desert canyon. In his hand, a black envelope, upon it the repellent seal of the Khlaar-Kinul. “Son of pestilence, feel no sorrow, hear my benevolence, limp to morrow; skin bubbling oil, black as night, lead troubling toil, prove your right.” Half a century. . . That is all it takes for ash’s ‘bruddas’ to forget them. This is what I have earned for bringing those Uruks, supposedly of great pride agh honor, together to form a truly BUB’HOSH clan. Betrayal and dishonor, a bub’hosh wound to any true Uruk, for which I may honestly claim to be. To claim it was not I who gathered the Waghgoths of Izig, Ram, and Mog within the spirit realm, is to lie openly. Before the union of these spiritual clans, many wished for me to join their pitiful tribe, however I would have no part in any clan that was not of my own creation, that would not serve towards my goals. Little did these ‘goths’ know, mine were not aligned with theirs. I had long sensed an overwhelming ROT within Krugmar, even before I had awoken to the Gâdu wisdom. I observed for many years, this rot, seeping into the very fabric of Orcish society, and within my bruddas themselves. Tell me, was it not Krug who stood before Iblees, and banished him from this world alongside his bruddas? Yet stood before me were abominations, full of avarice and ambition, fallen to the forces of Evil. . . With none to stand against this growing tide of darkness, one had to be forced to stand at attention. With a careful guiding hand, I lead these Goths to unite, producing a clan of pure iniquity. These Kûkaals, truly emboldened by their sudden monopoly of power, sprang forth with wicked machinations, aligning themselves with the dark forces that be, a dozen times over. Not without opposition, for long before the creation of this clan, I had bestowed my knowledge upon a true cub of Krug. Pamphilos Hyptos, my only student, for I believed no other truly held the grukkage required to be a shaman of great prowess and honor. Long ago, I had a vision of a great, horrific scaddernak, wreaking havoc across the earth, destroying Freygoth’s realm and ushering forth an age of deserts and sands. In my own greed, I had fallen to literalism, in the hopes a scaddernak may return to our tribe once more. Only now have I realized that it was a vision of the return of a true Orcish culture, not one blinded by mojo and the power that comes with it; but that of strength, honor, courage, and brotherhood. At the head of this righteous force, Uruks who may truly claim to be the green blooded sons of Krug. Let it be known, it was not I who infected Krugmar with this plague, but it was I who caused it to swell to overwhelming proportions. I, who allowed it to run rampant across our society, so it may be witnessed, and ultimately vanquished at the hands of the pure. Let it be known, I tore out my own eyes, so I could no longer witness the corruption of my bruddas. Let it be known, I admonish my own creation, the clan of Akaal. Let it be known, I admonish my fellow founders, that of Izig, Ram, and Mog. Let it be known, I admonish the Kûkaals, who have only furthered the cause of their forebears. Let it be known, all that 'Drus' claims of the Akaal, is the truth. Skaathatch’Izig, blinded by his own inner flame, could not see past the words of dragons. Krothuul’Ram, deafened by his own words, refused to hear those of his distant clan members. Ixula’Mog, his own cause silenced, spoke of enslaving the spirits and Orcish Xionism. Borok’Mog, the worst of all, used everything within his power as Rex to further his ambition. - Gâdhm'Akaal, the Khlaar-Kinul The repellent seal of the Khlaar-Kinul.

ur mistake is thinking this makes it underpowered and needs more spells, other magics are simply bloatmaxxed for bloaters, are you a bloater? you seem like a bloater.

Kato Son Goku clashes his steel chimp fists together, "[EMOTICON] COLON THREE"

A man shrouded in black clothing carefully approaches an Orkish Blahboard, obvious to all but himself as he tip-toed forward, applying a hefty layer of glue with a paint roller before carefully laying a poster against the wood. "At the behest of a request, I cannot rest." The man croaked. "BEWARE BURZMOJO, BEWARE BACKSTABBERS, BEWARE AKAAL"

so I tell u the thing I'm gonna do and u remove the thing wtf bro, horrible rewrite, do not pass

A man lay against the roots of an ancient oak, the mass of his soul gorged and plentiful since he and the man-maker first come face to face, with his last breath he uttered, "I am creator, and destroyer. . . ."

RESTORATION OF THE GREAT GRAVEL PYRAMID Occupied, defiled, and abandoned, the center of the world lay a smoldering ruin, chaotic energies erupted from the scarred soil of the Lordship, flowing from leylines stretched across the multi-planes. The Lord of Du Loc hath been missing for fifty years, heroes no longer gather within charitable halls, and fungi consumes what remains. However, tonight, on a most auspicious night, the god-planets (A topic of which will be discussed further in Wizardian Astrology I.) hath conjoined, squared, and opposed each other to form the perfect energies for a most imperative ritual to take place. Four powerful arcane adepts gathered upon the weathered foundation of the Gravel Pyramid, a once great wonder of our world. These true masters, Abraham the Blue, Daxius the Simple, Seercerer the Seerceress, and Fjolnir the Wandering Wizard, through a spell most ancient, arcane, and rare, Abraham projected from his body, allowing him to travel along a path divined by the most mystical seerceress. Flowing along a great river through the cosmos, Abraham revealed the true location of the stolen Gravel Pyramid, the Moon. Through a magickal tether to Abraham's spirit, an arcane portal was opened to the Moon, siphoning the gravel directly to its original site. Due to a polarizing shift in the chaotic and ruinous energies, the Gravel Pyramid immediately began rebuilding itself to align with the newly lawful and fortunate energy coalescing, transmuting into an ever more powerful monument. Despite Iblis’ theft and efforts to harness the arcane energies of Du Loc, we wizards hath foiled her plot, we hath restored the Great Gravel Pyramid and restored the honor and legend to the name ‘Quentin Brae’, Immortal Gravel Pharaoh of Du Loc. Long live the Wizardcratic Magocracy, hail Du Loc’s eternity! - Signed Fjolnir the Wandering Wizard

make all mina physical items. think about it.

1.9 pvp actively makes battles worse, lasting far longer in warclaims and bigger battles causing cancer tornadoes where 30 minute fights occur with people just ducking in and out to eat food only to regenerate all their health in the lag. most people who shill for 1.9 have spent hours practicing so they aren't missing and wasting literal seconds in a fight, whereas noobs will more than likely hit less than 50% of their clicks and just die. 1.8 pvp makes literally every aspect of pvp more accessible and enjoyable.

His origins from beyond time and the stars, ‘the Raven’ is an ancient creature associated with songs, heroes, omens, life, death, and immortality. Belonging to the mythology of various cultures he is known in Sprækjom as ‘Bodbardo’, in Waldenian as ‘der Rabenskalde’, in New Marian as ‘Raweni Caesoenir’, and as ‘Wuhhungoi’ by the Scydrians. A common theme among these peoples are a series of ballads describing the legends of warrior heroes, of whom committed great deeds in order to live beyond their natural lifespan through these songs passed down by generations, often attributed to skalds who claim they’re granted poetic frenzies by the Raven. He is a paragon amongst his kind, not only in the matter of size, he is capable of communicating in the languages of descendants with ease, although with the caveat of only speaking in rhymes. If one happens to come upon the Raven it is said he will offer an omen, occasionally accompanied by guidance to conquer the events to come. Described as a giant, pitch black raven, who’s wings stretch the length of the sun, with great carbarum talons. The Raven may appear in a humanoid form, indicated by long blue robes thrown across his person, and the presence of milky white eyes, which are said to see heroes’ past, present, and future. The creature is apparently even capable of possessing those who dedicate themselves to his service, these ravenskalds, of whom he grants inklings of inspiration, bind themselves to a creed in order to learn the power of song. Each culture tells the myth of the Raven in various ways, however certain attributes remain the same; he is celebrated as the one who stole song from the Aengudaemons, giving it to descendants in the process, and praising them in exchange for great acts of valor. A Cingedoz ballad “I am the Raven of yore, hear my song of defiance, be not craven nor a bore, the end of man’s reliance, daemons hoarded wealth so vast, a secret long restricted, an arras of ancient past, of which your kin’s depicted, no tale of devils within, but those of bygone valor, so lofted my wings therein, songs of man I did gather, fluttering across the planes, giving unto all who dared, remember those heroes' names, with their legends to be shared.” A myth originating from the Scydrian tribes In those ancient times, when the deceiver's trick shattered Man, the death of their father, and the coming glaciers drove the first of the men from their golden city… Long was the dark which followed. For in that time, man dwelt as beast. Lost in the olden woods of that northern land, man dwelt alongside the noble reindeer, and in their mighty acts of bravery and sense of unity, the deer fought against wolves and bears and wyrms and gryphons. Men saw in them legends, but stuck was he, unable to share them. Unable to learn from them, nor the lessons taken from their struggles against the beasts. An observer from high in the trees above, looked down on the turmoil of the tribes of the earth and saw them ailing, by war and ruin, picked apart by predators. It was Raven who looked upon man and rampant stag, and he sung a song. It caught the ears of man and deers and when it was sung, the secret passed. Man and deer herded together. Growing stronger. Raven followed them close, inspiring the righteous, the power to shape man's means. It was their legends and their deeds, as allies and friends who shared song and myth, which led to the deer giving man his great sacrifice. Horn, bone, and sinew. With these, man built bows, and straight arrows. Driving the predators from that primeval forest. Man rose now, to take for himself, to tame the beasts of the land, and honor deer eternal, and reach to be higher in the sky. The Aenguls high in the sky scorned Raven for this act. For now he taught man how to be immortal. He gave them, in that song, ambition, and the drive, and means to see it through. Man built mounds on the steppe for their heroes, their songs sung louder than the Aenguls, their deeds shaped the world greater. He had made man like them, the song he had sung, the secrets meant only for them. They sought to punish raven, cursing him for his reckoning to come; and so he haunts the fields of battle. Watching the deeds of worthy Heros, to choose those who will fight and repay their gift, taken from the Aenguls.