Angmarzku

I wanted it to die

Seems that mostly the AT comment on these things..

furries

Allowing Parkins to leave the server and return

A couple million undead continue to knock on the Westerlands' door with a plate of ash chip cookies.

I call this 'edgy wraith armour'

you're too new, kid

Damn, Perrin. Back at it with the shitty titles

The Reckoning of Quarryville -[]- “Radiant is the Black Sun!” Soldiers of Mordring, Unknown -[]- As commonplace with an Undead assaults, the day seemed as ordinary as ever, people toiled in the fields, soldiers patrolled. Just the Saint’s day prior brought about the liberation of Quarryville, the once luminant mark lay destroyed, ruined, all seemed as if well. The faint sight of ebon drakes brought about the sounding of bells and resounding shouts; a call to arms, even if they were in the far distance. Unorderly thuds, the clatter of metallic boots were then echoed, encroaching on Leopolds’ wall at a substandard pace. Boreal trees were beginning to be felled, closer and closer; louder clatters, truly more than the mere Ghoul was capable of. Come nightfall, the massive force arrived, few trolls were dotted amongst the trees, crude siege engines strapped to their back as they awaited the bulk, the necrotic combatants. Westerlandic forces took to the wooden palisades, ballistae and arbalest alike primed and aimed outwards, to the tenebrous landscape, granting them but meager vision. Afterwards, a multitude of mounted figures came to an abrupt halt along the loose path, but just out of sight, various commanders no doubt, but awaiting for the bulwark of soldiers which dwelt behind. -[]- “Pour forth my comrades, rend them, for your lord, Mordring!” Minor captain of Mordring, unknown -[]- Thus, upon their harkened orders the trolls launched forth their projectiles; masses of stone, aimed to splinter and tear at the wall wrought of wood, to breach. Sure enough, a shot landed, rendering forth a sizable hole onto which they poured onwards, the masses, corpse and captain alike took to the opening. The worse however proved yet to come. -[]- “Bring forth the Drakes!” Believed commander in charge, unknown -[]- Amalgamating with the foot-soldiers soared along a trio of horrid Drakes, flames spewed from their maws, coating defender and defenses both in a blazing inferno. Hours gradually took by, harsh battling followed, while severely outnumbered by the opposition the Westerlands and those whom aided them proved greater prowess over the mass of armed corpses, though many of course simply found themselves enclosed by the dead, slain. A hulking bolt took to the skies, finding it’s mark amongst one of Mordring’s Drakes to greatly injure the beast, much like most of their men, some of the commanding figures were lost to the toil of battle, encumbered by the resilience and grit of the Westerlands. Some managed to withdraw though, no doubt, hasty figures retreating into the forests as their forces were growing more and more ineffective, news of Ghamul’s demanifestation tore morale to a low, alas, triumph and victory were seemingly that of the Descendant’s, though who was known as the real victor? Quarryville lay in absolute ruin, tainted by draconian flames, corpses, and crimson strewn near and far. Victory or defeat…? OOC note: This massive event was an entirely new experience for us, most, if not all were scrambling about attempting to multitask various things. We understand that many were upset about the outcome of this experience or of the various aspects on how it was handled, rest assured we learned a good deal from this. Thank you to everyone who assisted and participated in this encounter, here’s to many more to come. Bless @Skylez1for his writing skills.

if anyone attempts to touch joey they will be attacked by 500k undead screechers and 100k pissed off westerlandians

simple, rp with a captain

'Mordring vult' said the big bad leader

Did you ever get attacked by a bird? Are we friends? Want some tea? Favourite movie? Favourite person? Favourite song?

10/10 King of Puns

0/10?

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.

Congrats gus

Keep on topic.

oh

Credits to Tsuyose for helping me write this. “You have failed to follow the will of Mordring and His allies. Therefore, you have proven to be unworthy. Now.. you are doomed." The Hand of Mordring, condemning a rogue Wraith to a fate worse than undeath; the Black Mark. A newly devised tool crafted between the skeletal digits of Mordring in his aspiration to cleave the rogue Wraiths from his arsenal of men shrouded in black, should they detour from the instated tenants inscribed by the ivory lord of yore, Mordring. It is by no means an abusable tool sought for the demise of loyal Wraiths, for Mordring has bequeathed the power and thereby extension may revert it- the ability to reverse-tether to bond that binds a Wraith via ethereal magicks devised by the grandfather of Wraiths old and new alike. They say, through scriptures tucked betwixt the nooks and crannies of the tenebrous abyss that the harbingers of dark derive from the necrotic power wielded by Mordring, that breaks down their soul akin to the poison of a pit viper. Shattering their corporeal form he then imbues the ethereal body with a bountiful amount of draconic magick, thereby warping their soul into a blueprint described only as reminiscent as the grandiose draconic being- crafting what is known today, as the Wraith. Though, the Hand of Mordring is more of a religious, prophet-esque role that demands its wielder to undoubtedly follow the law of the great serpent, to enact his will without question; the burden of Mordring’s flame. They, who inherit the fire of Mordring’s catalyst therein become the undeniable herald of the Wraiths, and thereby extension they wield the will of the enlightened dragon. Where Mordring cannot trek, the Hand of Mordring traverses; for the Hands’ mouth is His maw, his non-corporeal gaze is the glower of His, and his will is the affirmation of His- the Hand of Mordring is the incarnation of the great Dragaar himself. However, accompanying the religious-esque role is the ability to reap what has been sewn, to unveil man shrouded by darkness. A labouring task that can only be accomplished by bathing the rogue Wraith in fire, shredding the unorthodox veil that burdens the non-corporeal figure into nought but ash, and from that ash, wrapped in the pigment of mortality it would steadily re-bond albeit lacking the draconic essence that once perceived mortal, to Wraith- now, they would be mortal once more. With this reversion came a mark, a mark that signifies traitorous ilk to even the downright psychotic. Manifesting atop the back of their frame, upon the left-hand shoulder sits an eternally swirling haze of darkness, necrotic flesh and flakes of ash, clad in a curse so utterly unforgettable by any normal feats known to both the divine and Man alike. The mark, lacking any physical depiction of its grotesque nature instead serves as a mental reminder- the victim henceforth suffers with a flurry of horrific nightmares of their era as a Wraith. If the fire touches the Wraith, regardless if it's wearing a husk or not it shall engulf it in flames and undo it. Redlines: By no means can the Hand of Mordring global-disconnect a Wraith, it must be done through strict role-play. The mark cannot be removed through deific nor necrotic feats, it is a permanent mark. Should a character become Undead through another means, then the mark accompanies the malformed soul; i.e. should an ex-Wraith become a Lich, then either their skeletal figure or phylactery is marked with an ashen/cinder haze (mostly creative - up to the user how this curse is apparent.) Once the Mark of Rejection is complete and the unbinding process is complete, the player’s character reverts back into their former selves; i.e. a ghoul-wraith reverts back into a ghoul. When a Wraith goes inactive for 3+ months their position as a Wraith will be re-contemplated and likely discussed with the Lore Team.