Andustar

Prince Marcus strode through the fields of fresh carrion, the Anathema's army to serve as easy pickings for the region's exotic fauna. "Still... it's better to be cut down on the field than the alternative," the Prince concluded, catching sight of a marauding hippo exacting retribution on those who had disturbed its territory.

A knight clad in ivy-coloured armour ran his sword along a whetstone, intent on aiding the men of the Commonwealth.

"Keep's haunted."

Albéric du Lac reminisces on times long past. A smile took shape upon his visage, the knight acknowledging that the fate of his homeland was in worthy hands.

---

Meanwhile, Prince Marcus Antonious remained ever watchful over the Commonwealth. Proud to stand by his sister, the Queen, in the days to come.

"Declaring a secular institution should have oversight on the chapel, property of the Church, sounds pretty heretical to me,"

Prince Marcus stated, promptly tossing the flyer into the city square's bonfire.

"God bless, Queen Sybille. May your reign be long and prosperous,"

Albéric stated, proud to witness how far his niece and student had come.

"For a time, I resented your position. The crown-bearer who couldn't possibly comprehend the weight of loss. Whose whims and wishes were served upon a silver platter," Albéric said to himself, reading the missive in isolation. The knight of the lake never felt close to his cousin, yet he could not deny the sorrow that gripped his core.

"In truth, perhaps I misjudged you. Despite your mistakes, you were more complex than I gave you due credit for," he mused. A fact that had become more apparent in their most recent conversations. "I don't know with any certainty what lies beyond for you, Hadrian. I simply hope that you find the freedom you craved..."

"...I look forward to a time in which we'll meet again."

Absolutely wonderful! Amazing work from both of you @tcs_tonsils_@MapleSunflower

[Disclaimer: This is a personal post detailing my character's mindset following an event and thus is not public information.]

Cowardice. Weakness. Failure.

The words rang through Albéric’s ears. Yet, he possessed little awareness of his surroundings. Before, he stood upon the weathered defences of a shamanist temple, but the storm that previously battered him had subsided. The cold rain and sea spray had been replaced by an intense heat that radiated anger, shame and disgrace. 

“I know this place,” he managed to utter through parched lips, hands purchasing a grip upon grains of sand. Years ago, the desert before him had appeared in a vision, rendered barren by the eternal watch of the sun overhead. It threatened to beat him into submission with every step, the heat scorching his calloused feet.

The knight swore to walk this unforgiving path, even if the pain was too great a burden to withstand. And still, he had fallen in his stride, broken body coming to a halt in a barren wasteland. The figures in the distance, whom he sought to follow, grew further and further away, never wavering in their steps. “I-...” Barely a rasp escaped his dry mouth. He wondered, had the heat stolen his capacity to speak, or did he lack the courage to admit his folly? Perhaps it did not matter, for there was but one truth he now believed.

I cannot do this. I’m little more than a disgrace.

The sands rippled at the thought, threatening to swallow him whole. The knight felt himself sink, and part of him welcomed the enveloping embrace of judgment. “Now hold on there,” a pair of voices declared in unison, reaching into the sand to grasp a singular arm. Albéric wondered, who now clung to him, determined to rob a coward of his deserved fate. 

A woman spoke, “So easily you judge yourself. Yet, you gave me your hand when I was undeserving.” He recognised the shrill and noble tone and perceived an elegant figure, his blurred vision just about defining her face. She was a persistent individual who had suffered at the hands of betrayal and her own oppressive paranoia.

Then, a man spoke. “You suffered a defeat, but there will be battles to come. Would you rob the realm of a sworn sword?” Again, he recognised the voice, touched by a tone of unmistakable pride. This figure was distorted and gravelly, like shattered limestone fragments someone sought to piece together again. He was a stubborn memory, felled in a war some considered righteous, others treacherous and immoral.

“Who would judge me deserving of sympathy? What could a broken sword, who trampled his vows, possibly offer that permits his existence?” The two figures scooped Albéric across their shoulders, “You are more than your past mistakes,” again they spoke in unison. “It is cowardly to run in the face of fear, but it is worse still to bow one’s head and succumb to despair. You held on to us, now let us do the same.” They lifted him from the barren wastes and into the light.

The broken knight’s feet found grip upon the dunes yet again, the figures who had hoisted him up now fading like a mirage. He looked back towards the light in the distance and the people he longed to follow getting further and further away. The digits upon his single hand clenched as he realised some strength remained, so he took another step. 

To make amends, first you must forgive yourself. Now walk, son.

Those voices beckoned him like a divine chorus, crying out from beyond. Defeat stung, but life still clung to his body. Amidst the shattered ruins of the temple, Albéric awoke. 

"'Twas merely my duty, Catriona."

Albéric whispered, reading his niece's expression of gratitude under lantern light.
"There will be many more obstacles to face, for your rule has just begun. Surmount them with honour, integrity and compassion."

Marcus looked over the ruined fortress, stonework crumpling in wake of the Coalition's barrage.

"The debt against Brasca has been paid. Now, let us finish the campaign well and truly."

The battle may have been over, but there was still a war to be won.

"We stand triumphant, sister. May your reign raise the Commonwealth to greater heights yet!"
Marcus looked up his twin with pride, honoured to stand by her side in the years to come.

Marcus hummed softly as he read the missive, before glancing to his sister.
"At least they recognise when they've been dealt a bad hand."

@Zaerie

Prince Marcus Antonius reunited with his family in wake of the victorious battle, wiping his sword clean of heathen blood.
"For the Commonwealth! O Sainte Règne Petrére!"

Imrahil drew a lengthy breath, reaching for his sword as he knelt in prayer.

"GOD above, I ask only for the strength to defend my people!"

He was prepared to follow his sister and Queen to war.

Albéric produced a warm smile in delight as word of his newborn nephew reached his ears.

"I guess I owe Paul a visit," he concluded happily.

-=-

Meanwhile, Marcus' attention was diverted from the intrigues of war, the teen now flowing with joy.
"Congratulations, uncle! I just hope we're due for more good news in the days to come."

"The words of a coward,"

Albéric stated to his mother in response.

"He cares not for his family in truth, but only for vain glory."

@tilly

A sentient daemonic weapon? Absolutely based. Gives me mad Warhammer vibes.

52 minutes ago, TreeSmoothie said:

Personality

The personalities of savants & sages will vary widely, though all have some things in common:

☽ They react little to insults and have a moral code; this can be anything, from a defined set to more typical ‘do not harm, do not steal’, etc and should not change often.

☽ Physical ‘things’ (i.e. money, land) mean little to the savant; they are hesitant, and usually downright repulsed, by over-the-top romance or extreme power.

I feel like this subtracts from the concept of having a unique mental landscape by imposing a mental code and total harmony. Imagine the aesthetic options people could explore with say a more radical or harsh mindset. A swelling anger they can control through sheer will and concentration, manifesting as something akin to a wartorn or volcanic region, littered with battered banners, weapons and fire.

Furthermore, what about mindscapes in which people are thinking of themselves as ther rulers of their own worlds? Imagine a greedy mental landscape of gold or riches. E.g. a vast vault of perceived or desired wealth. Even if we did not go that far, 'attachment' to physical things could make for an interesting set of details in a person's mind. Say they were a blacksmith whose mindscape possessed a standing copy of every weapon they might have forged? I think that could make for some really interesting roleplay and I believe you are missing something here.

As for the romantic distance aspect, it looks to me that this is an attempt to expand upon simply saying 'No FTB'. Instead of forcing people to become hermits, I reckon it would be better to keep it simple and block the degeneracy, or just outline that romance in general is impossible within the mindscape. Whilst I appreciate you are trying to stop deplorable RP, I think it is a bit much in this case. 

I have been trying to follow up on searching for a material in roleplay that my character uncovered during the Mori'Quessir eventline, but thus far events pertaining to the acquisition of interesting materials or learning how to refine them are all but non-existent. Please, bring them back. +1

3 minutes ago, H said:

-snip snip-

I appreciate the clarification on these mechanics and I wish you luck!

24 minutes ago, H said:

[Combative/Non-Combative] - Amped Reflexes

A mage can force a very low level of lightning to flow throughout their body, directly firing their muscle fibers with tiny amounts of Voidal Lightning. This allows them, for a split second, to react as fast as they can think; far faster than their nervous system and body would normally allow. Such is done to dodge, catch, or bat away projectiles that are flung towards them. Outside of combat, this can be used to quickly boost a mage’s reflexes - for example, to win at carnival games. 

While no one magic should have a monopoly on certain combat mechanics, this alongside the 'Lightning Step' do sound very similar in concept and application to the paladin 'Stalker Step'. Furthermore, whilst I enjoy the concept of lightning evocation, I do feel the manoueverability this rewrite offers greatly mitigates one of the established weaknesses of mages, that being their vulnerability to physical strikes and their mental focus being shattered by distractions. If you are to go down this route, I would personally suggest that the amount of slots this magic requires be raised to 2 at least.

Overall, your formatting is excellent and I appreciate the effort you put into expanding upon the aesthetic value of the magic. I simply worry about the balancing of the mechanics.

Here is the Paladin lore if you would like to read it:

10 hours ago, tilly said:

“This is so not good,” remarked Renilde about her own son, remembering the various times he’d abused his position in order to belittle the Petra and punish his mother’s success, all because his childhood was not a traditional one. 

 

Long and hard did she deliberate this news; it was good that she, herself, was no longer in power, for it was known that the new High Pontiff would have done something along the lines of excommunication - likely for his own personal will and amusement. A scowl had formed on her face all while thinking of the possibilities of her son's late life, given his new status.

 

In order to process these details, Renilde, the Queen-Emeritus of the Petra, sought out her eldest son, Albert to discuss the recent goings-on, for her dearest Bertie always knew what to say.

 

@Andustar

Within his apartment in the Petrine palace, Albéric was reading over the plans for his furniture and decorations.
"Hmm.. Yes, yes. That there will go there and that-..." He paused to a delicate yet urgent knock upon the door which he opened hastily, only to find his mother standing in the hallway. "Matrère, is everything alright?!"
His face, bruised from a recent skirmish, was gripped with an expression of immediate concern.

Albéric du Lac scanned over the invite with a mix of pride and yet apprehension. Hastily, he would write back to his younger brother.