UnBaed

In the dawn, when the waves brushed most softly against the sandy beach, a fatigued elf emerged from her shack.  Today was the day to freshen the seed she'd often leave out for the local birds, many often having rather colorful plumes and unique song.

Many were yet to awaken in this new day, so all was quiet in the dim hues of the pale morning--save for one sound.  A throaty croak, sharp and small; the song of a dark-feathered omen.

The Crow was perched upon one of the boards propped up in the sands, its head tilted to eye the startled elf.  She stood there for a moment, a breath puffed out of her to reduce her tension and mutter to herself of delusions needing to be dismissed.

She carried on in laying out the seed, and pouring out fresh water--unable to shrug off the weight of the Crow's watchful gaze.  Within her, much conflict stirred; grief and fear, anger and softness.  It was gnawing, nagging, itching, and prickling.

It was all until she abruptly sought to storm off into her home and rid herself of the bird's presence.  Though, something caught the rays of the morning sun, and glimmered in that Crow's eye; a small coin, intended as a token for its habit of collecting.

this is your chance to pull the ultimate funny and not respond to any questions

also who/what got you into minecraft itself

8 minutes ago, Unwillingly said:

there are arguably sillier things that are locked behind a paywall

 

like the fact that if u need to pay to not have ur chat spammed by potato donations

i hear its not even permanently saving u from potato donation spam

it blocks it for like 30 minutes

What is even the point of a race change

She woke up with a mild start, a mere sharp inhale before the weight of grogginess washed over her.  However long she had been asleep, it was hard to tell; she often drifted in and out through the night, never quite having a fully accomplished rest.  Her aurum knife had wound up on the floor this time, however, yet she just laid there.  Harrowed eyes peered up to that ceiling as her thumb pressed continuously into her palm, feeling for the eye she only had in her dreams.

By the time dawn struck, three new drawings were added into her messy murals decorating the walls of her shack; the foreboding crane, the blind elf, and a lone tower.

I feel like forcing NL's to PK upon death isn't the proper solution to the issue.  As everyone else has been commenting above, that rule would certainly be used by a lot of bad-faith RPers, or simply just players who solely focus on PvP and OOC politicking on this server.  Would an NL be forced to PK if they got killed in a PvP encounter?  I'm sure you'll find a lot of players unwilling to PK their characters over such events, so why should we force NL's to do the same?

I agree that there should be some more consequences to dying, a PK would be ideal but with how things are on the server right now, it just wouldn't go efficiently.

I think a better solution to rooting out this issue is reflecting on how we conduct ourselves on the server.  Too many people around nation "RP" take things far too seriously OOCly, but I kind of don't blame them--how can you not care about a project you've poured a lot of effort and hours into?  That shouldn't mean, however, that you've the right to turn toxic and hateful toward someone opposing you.  Lines still need to be better defined, which far too many players don't even realize such boundaries exist

The issue isn't some NL's not PKing.  The issue is the spam of boastful victory posts after every PvP encounter; snide comments thinly hidden under RP emotes; hateful mindsets being promoted against player groups in times of RP conflict; the encouragement of harassment to communities and wanting to disrupt their RP with a flood of PvP raids.  It's just too much OOC being dragged into places where there should be more RP

People want their characters to have dynamic and interesting stories.  While not everything can go as we'd like for a narrative, that doesn't make it bad - I feel like we'll find a lot more players, NL's too, partaking in nation politics and conflict being more open to PKing on death if they were given genuinely good faith RP.  I'd certainly feel a lot better about PKing if whoever killed my character wasn't about to fortnite dance all over the forums about it, and instead gave me some entertaining RP.

Some dead, cynical Haeseni wonders if the Barbanov bloodline will have a curious gene where all firstborn children are male in the coming years.

this will severely effect the trout population

fartpack w

The waves lapped at the sandy shore, the sun's warmth was gentle and the cool winds stirred the chimes she had hung up the other day.  She was cross-legged upon the sand and faced the sea, yet her eyes were closed in meditation.  Somewhere far, yet within, she gazed upon another shoreline; dreary and swathed in a mist that turned the waters gray.  Two others gazed with her, silent; as quiet as any wreckage would be after a raging storm--it would be many years before they could heal from the wounds of grief of that old home lost.

Yet a small shadow danced over Ilaria's eyes, and she opened them to regard that shimmering coast of sapphire waters, no longer flanked by that duo. Gliding through the winds was an Albatross, an omen.

"Perhaps now is our time to heal, and begin anew."

this guy was gone for several years and came back during temp map to critique current rp and everyone went ballistic

77 replies

When light returned, it was red and glimmered with hatred of the Hells as it illuminated

the cold and resolute face of the warlock; the Guide's betrayal of the caravan became known as the

chattering of fiends echoed from the shadows around them.

[Art by Egil Paulson]

The following is intended as private RP

They had been on the road for approximately three grueling and miserable days.  Yet, such is what Alec accepted to face when he opted to join The Seekers; the patrol to sweep over the Inmarilla countryside; it was the duty of these squadrons to scout for sightings of fiends, or to escort what caravans of refugees that were spat out of the smoke-stained horizon of the east.  The few that could be reached in time spoke only of the encroaching future of fire and brimstone; every passing day, the scent of war grew thicker and thicker upon the winds that passed over the moors.  And every passing day, the howling of fiends echoed more throughout the night.  It wouldn't be long until the sun would be choked out in smoke, and the people would need to seek shelter within the bastion in the mountains.

The vast and broad landscape provided them with an advantage in spotting strange sights, primarily fires in the night - either from lanterns of survivors, or hell-flame of the demons that reached the caravans before The Seekers could.  Alec expected he would often have to handle the dead, whenever his squadron encountered remnants of lost caravans torn apart by the roving fiends; however, he was treated with a far more disturbing sight than he could have imagined.  At most, there would be two or three ravaged or charred corpses--with absolutely no trace of anyone else, despite counting several wagons.

There was talk of folk being taken, yet to where remained uncertain; little is ever heard back from those who would be sent to track them.  With the dark days stalking closer and closer, nothing could go wasted now.  You could try to save any life at arm's reach of you, but any further and the soul is considered lost and you'd be a fool to step after it.  Although there were no souls to save in the charred caravans, they were still suitable for pillaging and bringing material back to the capital; such was the duty of Alec's squadron now.

Upon the evening of their third day of riding, smoke was spotted upon the horizon that signaled another unfortunate caravan.  It wasn't too far off from one of the evacuated hamlets, which looked partially charred in parts too.  With the distance between them, they wouldn't be able to reach it til the morning; the nights were hardly ever safe within the moorlands--such is primarily when caravans were ambushed, or even the bands of Seekers.  Each day, however, the invading fiends grew bolder and bolder.

How much longer until we're forced to be drawn into the capital entirely? Alec had wondered as he eyed the vague shapes of shacks as twilight faded into night, behind him his men were just finishing up their ramshackle encampment embraced by large stones.  It won't be long, at this rate.  There would be no fire to warm them, lest they wish to be found in the following week by another roaming band of Seekers as naught but ravaged corpses.  Just as Alec was contemplating the cold night he was to spend, a strange sight had caught his attention by the town; a small flicker of white light.

R E P O R T   OF   S E E K E R   A L E C

• Swarm of Screechers spotted within the southern territories, no more than seven roaming--too far to pursue, and risky with our numbers.
  • Encountered carcass of an elk, unfamiliar tracks around it suspected to be demonic origin; absence of eyes and gnawed horns support this notion
• Smoke spotted upon the end of the third day near Corswic, remnants of ambushed caravan--four wagons counted. 
  • Survivors highly unlikely.
  • Attack likely occurred night before; no sign of Scavengers.
• Chimney smoke seen in the morning, despite Corswic's evacuation two months back.
  • Led our squadron to locating one sole survivor in critical but stable condition
  • Suffers from serious burns and heavy scratches, though all wounds look freshly treated prior to our arrival
  • Believed to be from nearby caravan
• Survivor is hardly coherent or functional, multiple signs of a second survivor being present
  • Believed to be a woman, due to the mutterings of the first we've found
  • Yet a second survivor was no where to be found, despite intensive searching
• Survivor will be returned to city and kept in custody for questioning and examination
• Copy of material scavenging from Corswic and the caravan will be attached to this report

Alec felt odd after sealing his report and handing it off, there was a thought that itched at the back of his mind; something he regrets having left out from his documenting.  Yet how could he have put any of it into words without being dismissed as superstition?  Back in those moorlands when his squadron was readying to ride back to the capital, it had troubled him greatly that the second survivor of the attack could not be located; all signs pointed to her existence with the treatment of the first survivor's wounds, the tracks of footprints around the room and roads, the small fire in the hearth.  Although feverish and hardly conscious, the first woman they had discovered mumbled often; either of demons, lost family, or whoever her companion had been--all while clutching at a small scallop shell as if her life depended on it.

His train of thought was disrupted that day of their departure, by another distant flash of white light on the outskirts of Corswic.  Although nothing came from those strange sightings, they must have meant something.  Yet he still left it out of the report.

Meanwhile...

The sound of buzzing static faded from her ears as she recovered from that surging feeling; though the cavern walls still spun around her--likely a product of her immense fatigue and exhaustion.  With a sound similar to a wheeze, the woman collapsed to her knees and pressed her shoulder to the cool stone beside her as she collected her bearings.  That was risky, you know.  Staying there for so long.  Could have wounded up fried or taken like the rest of them.  She offered no response and rubbed at her brow, before realizing how tightly she had gripped something within her palm.  It was different this time, there wasn't so much smoke--do you think we could find those flowers He showed you? Her eyes opened to gaze upon a tarnished and delicate bracelet she held, it still smelled of soot.  A gift.

I cannot continue to persist as a passing shadow; our mark will be fading if I do such.  I would not be alive as I am,

were it not for a reason; she might live now, due to my efforts.

......

And yes... perhaps a day will come where we find those flowers again.

this is what happens when we wait for map change

are you able to adjust the purple, it burns my eyes

weird take, your points imply elven groups break the rules if their nations have decent activity - implementing a CA would do little to change anything, and just create immense clutter for applications on forums

How have you been?

Got anything in mind for a new character, now that you're back?

What's a game you got into while away from LotC?

new lore approved herb is mega garlic to bat away vampires

IGN: UnBaed

Discord: UnBaed#3468
Category of Choice: Visual Art

Title of Your Piece: TBD

when are u walking the shore

favorite rp moment?

favorite book?

favorite characters on the server that aren't yours?

What inspires you to RP?

Favorite book?

How did you find the server?

What is it about LotC that made you stick on here for 2 years?