Gallic

your survey is missing housemagery

Fiil'Yar prepares to crash an elf's birthday with Turge, swearing they will rue the day they invited both her and her student at the same time to the same place.

oliver’s ghost gets sad

Fiil’Yar fears for Buck’s life upon finding her voodoo-powered medicine missing, but nonetheless is appreciative to see his works again.

I’ve never understood why kha are so drawn to and effected by sugar if cats literally can’t even taste sugar

This is fantastic in every regard, and the only complaint I have about it comes from a selfish place of territorial healing. Witchdoctors can replace limbs, organs, eyes and junk, by sculpting them out of flesh and bone and performing a ritual to reattach them. It confers permanent RP-impacting effects on the person and I’d like to see the grafting part of this lore reflect something similar, just so that this isn’t a straight-up better alternative to it. Again that’s just my personal bias because I’m part of the Witchdoctor team.

I’d prefer to see this as an Ixli thing since I’m biased Ixli being the spirit of forbidden knowledge

Another moon rises over the distant valley which Fiil'Yar calls home, far from the sounds of Krugmar's streets and warmachines, yet as darkness encompasses all, she remains awake: Pondering over the work she'll get done tomorrow far into tonight's midnight hours. Restlessness isn't uncommon for her, evading sleep until the last possible moment, but lately insomnia has become routine again. Her dreams have become vivid and strange and leave her feeling more exhausted in the morning than when she laid her head. Dreams of falling from her bed into seemingly limitless depths of colors and disordered sound, finding she lacks arms, legs or any bodily feature at all yet can move with some cosmic volition among the chaos. Exhausting dreams. Awake she sits, swaying with an involuntary nod over a docket she prepares. Each dip of her head, her eyes flutter closed for longer, struggling to focus on her moving quill. She nods until finally one falls so low that her head touches her desk, and there it lays. As usual, sleep came suddenly and without her choosing, though this time it came without the dreams that normally afflict her... Whether a reprieve from her routine or failing to rest her head long enough to see them. The realization that she was asleep indeed only came when she was startled awake, feeling something brush against her leg down below. She jolts away from her desk and looks down to see two yellow eyes staring back at her; Beside her stands a coyote, somehow unconcerned with being caught, as if it had intentionally sought her attention. A wry, clever creature. She stares on in surprise and amazement at the canine so bravely staring her down, sharing a silent moment of connection between them - Until the coyote calmly turns and walks away, leaving her home without a trace. Though bewildered by her visitor, as her thoughts race to justify their soiree, her head soon sinks down to lay again, passing the night away through fitful, dreamless sleep. Morning breaks, rays of light awakening Fiil from her restless slumber. Once more she could not recall dreaming, nor even falling asleep; The coyote merely left, and then her next conscious thought was of awakening. Odd as her nights are, they are set aside: Now she must away to work, back to San'Azgak to put in her duty to her motherland. The walk to San'Azgak is uneventful, and her day is filled with meetings and corralling fanatic goblins from sacrificing guests; A mundane day in Krugmar. For hours she works her repetitious job, until a sudden flurry of motion brings a young goblin kub to her feet, injured gravely, blinded, and bleeding from beneath his cap. Like her father before her, she serves as the sole standing healer of the Goi, and so the responsibility of his care falls to her. For the rest of the day, she works tirelessly on healing the kub, with every medicine, prayer and tool at her disposal - Yet by the end, though he is stable, his body remains sleeping, wasting away. Her prayers are for naught, her potions only serve to prolong his sleeping state, and her tools fall short for all they're worth. She covers the kub in a shawl embroidered with the symbol of Kor, the Spirit of Passing, and falls exhausted to her knees beside him. She rests her head again, staring in defeat toward the bloodstained floor before: There is nothing more she can do for him, his life is as good as over. A healer though she may be, she is nothing like her father before her. The spirits listened to his prayers, gave him the power to knit flesh and purge poisons without need for medicines. No matter how hard she practices, nor how much she knows, she will always fall beneath the shadow of the orc who could cure blindness in a single incantation, or tear a curse from a person's very soul. She is destined for this sort of defeat. Once again Fiil is startled awake, having, she figures, exhausted herself so greatly that she fell asleep beside the kub. Something had brushed against her leg, and she looks down to see the coyote again, sitting beside her desk - And it's only then the bleary realization dawns on her that she is nowhere near where she previously fell unconscious. Her home is far from the city, yet the city is where she had been sitting. She shares a meaningful staredown with the creature while this dawns on her, but before she has time to struggle to recall how she came to arrive here the coyote once more turns to leave her. It pads toward the door at a leisurely pace, though this time it stops, and looks back toward her eyes again: Taunting her curiosity into following after. She rises as it vanishes into the night outside; Entreated by its stare, she cautiously moves to follow. Her head feels thick, her footfalls come unsteady, like she's wading through water neck-deep... A familiar feeling of struggling to will herself into movement similar to the odd dreams she had been plagued with in recent weeks. But now with a goal in mind - the pursuit of her visitor - she moves with purpose, propelled by the thought of finding it. Pushing aside the canvas separating her from the exterior of her hut, her eyes widen; What lies beyond is not the garden where her home dwells, but a plane entirely alien. She stands atop a stone floating freely amidst a nexus of light, hundreds like it drifting through the strange aurora alongside it. Hers is dotted with brambly desert berries and limestone boulders, scenery stolen from her home as if it would make this overwhelming place more welcoming to her. Though she recognizes the bizarre geography of the Spirit World immediately, her wonder is not abated; She has never visited without her father's guidance before. She wonders, to herself, if perhaps she was dreaming - But once more, her rationalization is halted. The image of the coyote who led her here drifts into view like a swirl of sand, and at its feet lies a small body covered in a shawl of Kor. The patterns scintillate however, shifting to bear a resemblance to Akezo's sigil, her patron; The spirit of Vitality and Healing. As she her attention fixes on the coyote's yellow eyes again, it lowers its snout and nudges the limp body before it, as if it were presenting a gift to her. She struggles to find words when faced with such a bizarre gesture, but in a tone of fearful reverence she states; "I - Don't know how to help him..." Seeing her bemusement, the coyote patiently rises to stand upon all four of its paws, then to Fiil's confusion begins to make seemingly meaningless, but deliberate motions: First it trots in circles, hopping between front and back feet, then it bounds from side to side, finally jumping onto its hind legs - Like a bizarre, canine dance, all the while it holds a wry glint in its eye, entirely aware of the entertaining diversion it makes. Fiil's tension slowly eases away despite the power she stands before, the absurdity of the dancing coyote in fact managing to raise a puzzled, but entertained, smile from her. The dance then ends, and the beast falls back onto its paws, setting them upon the body at its feet - Like Fiil's father laying hands on the wounded, causing her brows to furrow pensively. It stares up at her in expectation, panting, its goofy tongue hanging through an otherwise predatory set of fangs; A friendly, albeit dangerously sly face. Once more the coyote waits patiently as Fiil's caught in stunned confusion, counting many pants before she finally speaks up, bearing a tone of bemusement; "You... Want mi to dance...?" She asks, hesitantly. It only nudges the body with its snout again, then removes its paws. A heavy feeling surrounds her, an ominous sense of both power and danger while the coyote waits. Fiil tentatively raises her arms and begins to pad a small circle, spinning while keeping her eyes upon her odd instructor as often as possible. She moves with great caution, both due to confusion at her own actions as well as a rising aura of danger surrounding her - The feeling of handling whatever the coyote wishes to show her, she imagines. Her feet step around each other and she soon finds herself following along to an ancient rhythm thrumming through the lights swirling about the rock. Disembodied voices, chanting reverence to her patron, calling to Akezo in desperation - Burning themselves into her memory as she finds herself lost in the motions of the coyote's dance. She catches a glimpse of the patient coyote in her tribal stomping, who gives a single, patient nod down at the kub. The dance is complete. Fiil suddenly realizes that the lights from the chanting aurora had begun to swirl around her hands, and the feeling of danger has passed; Now she feels only power as she looks down at her palms. With one final motion, in step with the coyote's dance, she kneels down to lay her hands over the kub. The lights swirl away, leaving the rock in cold darkness. But through the shawl, an eerie glow hints at light beneath. Everything the coyote taught her comes to its conclusion, the wisdom it meant to impart; The shawl shifts as the body beneath it begins to rouse... Then it rises, as if sitting up - But just as it does so, Fiil finds herself jolted awake before witnessing its fruition. Fiil startles from the sounds of hornbills crying outside her office, having slept in far past dawn. Yet once more, she feels no more rested than she was last night - And once more, she fully recalls the vivid dream she had. In fact, this one fascinated her more than any of the wild, light-filled visions ever did. Most of her day is occupied contemplating what she saw, continuously finding herself attempting to theorize what she saw and how surreal it was. The kub, however, showed no indication of improvement. His breath began to come in soft pants, labored enough that multiple times Fiil nearly presumed the goblin dead. She restlessly doted over him, working in her patron's name to do all she could for him - Changing his dressing, applying ointment to the wounds that had already begun showing signs of contamination, despite how the motions caused her hope to falter... That is, until her mind began to wander again, linking fanciful thinking to desperate reality, wondering over the coyote she's seen in her dreams. She felt disrespectful even entertaining her thoughts, as if somehow she would simply be bestowed the abilities her father practiced for centuries by a cosmic coyote visiting her late at night. But... She felt, perhaps in a moment of grief bargaining, Akezo would want her to at least try, even if it was foolish, even if it disrespected the high pedestal she places her father on. She draws her curtains closed and lifts the goblin's comatose body onto her personal altar, then took a deep breath and begins to dance. Just as the coyote taught her, each step burnt into her memory remarkably well, despite the seemingly erratic pattern it took. She begins to mumble coyly to herself during her private ceremony... "Akezo taar'tala, frûm-nûlbug'an..." Akezo high above, spirit of healing... Fiil's feet step around each other, twisting together perilously to bring her in a circle while she spins. She looks down at them, unable to be sure of how accurately they fall, as they move by instinct to the rhythm of the coyote... "Hon'ghaamul-izgu, khlaar-lûp'izg..." Look down on me, hear my prayer... Her arms raise and begin to shake out as she moves, in time with an otherworldly melody recalled from her "dream"... Her chant grows bolder, rising in volume and falling in time with the beating in her head. "...Hlu-za'aaps tiir'u!" Mend this flesh back to right... The arms sway over the shawl-covered body of the kub, motions which dip and rise as she spins, patterns zealously pantomiming the motions of a suture - Then her hands cup close to each other, drawn together. "Hlu-za'hontz hon'kaal-u!" Mend these eyes to see the light... Her arms wave between each other as she stomps out the spirits' melody, graceful movements she somehow feels assured would please her patron. Otherworldly gray plumes begin to rise from around her, produced by no flame, but instead from herbs and poultices seemingly deteriorating into flakes and rising, consumed by an unseen force. Smoggy, incense-like aura that draws close to her, swirling toward her hands... Similar to the aura in her dream, but already it seems off. A subtle, ominous feeling as the reagents crumble away, the acrid scent of burning... In the moment, something shaken off; The spirits often gloss over smaller details of mortal life, after all. "Tulk-za'dâg slaium'u!" Lift this child into life... Fiil's steps bring her to stand facing the kub on the altar, the air filled with her gray aura as if her motions had perfumed the air with an unseen thurible. Her arms lift with the words of her chant, and finally her eyes open to witness the swirling smoke hovering about her hands. They widen, and her dance pauses for a moment of reverence. "A-... Akezo taar'tala, gaakh lat skaat!" Akezo high above, may it be you come... ...The coyote's dance was finished. She was bestowed a gift, just as her father was. For a moment, she was enraptured, elated, overtaken by amazement at the blessing she was given. Her hands cup together and come to rest over the goblin, laying hands just as she had seen her father do so many times. The smoke flies toward her patient, propelled like arrows into his flesh. And indeed, the kub heaves a sharp breath inward, a jarring, but relieving sound. Fiil tosses aside the shawl she had placed over the kub to find, while his wounds were not gone, all signs of infection had seemingly vanished and pale, healing flesh was now visible over his body. She lifted the young goblin into her arms, cradling him tightly as she holds back tears of joy... But soon she finds herself sinking down, knees unable to support the weight of even a small child: Despite her excitement, her soul is not nearly equipped for the vast quantities of mana calling the spirits require. But she didn't care. Akezo had saved a child's life, on her behalf. The process took weeks of repeated rituals, each one more tiring than the last. A small price to pay, she thought, for the kub's continued recovery. Small mercy was found in her sleep returning to normal; Simple dreams, memories, lucid explorations of her normal subconscious. True dreams, not audiences imparted by whatever spirit had been calling to her before - The coyote. She was left to practice in the mortal realm, long enough that the creature begins to become a memory, no longer considered a possible visitor. For five gruelling months of regular ritual treatment, Fiil repeated these steps imparted to her. Each time, the kub would rouse further, his wounds would seem less grievous and scar more - A small detail she recalls; Her father had not left scars when he laid his hands on the injured. Something she conflates to a difference in experience... Or so she had, until the kub finally awoke. When he first opens his eyes, tears nearly fall again. Fiil reaches behind him to scoop the confused boy into a hug again, but something's wrong. His eyes have healed, but they remain foggy and pale. He's awakened, but he is stiff, as if frozen in fear. His limbs work, but they begin to tremble. Eyes widening, his brows knit in frightened confusion. He begins to pant again, now in terror at the world Fiil had awoken him to, all distorted color and terrific visions - He had not been destined to recover, and for each part Fiil had healed against the will of fate, she unknowingly bestowed a price upon him. Terrible prices which pile upon each other. Prices he hadn't asked for. She is a healer, yes, but still she stands in the shadow of her father; The miracles she performed were far different. Cursed. Fiil's eyes, too, look on in horror as the innocent kub she had been nursing for months now awakens to a strange, sensation-filled, disordered world, imagining the terror of a child plunged into the chaotic vision she saw in her dreams. She raises him into her arms to cradle the poor soul, expression twisted into a regretful scowl at her own hubris. But her soul was still not prepared for such great expenses of mana. As she cradles the kub, as he adapts to his new world, she slips away; Fainting. She's on the rock again, but it bears no familiar vegetation; Now it is barren. The coyote, with its sly expression, sits before her. It stares right into her eyes for a time; It knows the price she paid. It turns to descend a floating set of stones, a staircase down into the realm of the spirits. It looks back and begins to pant, tongue wagging past its vicious fangs; The goofy expression that once put Fiil at ease now gloating. Like it had been a game to it. But nonetheless it entreats she follows, for it has many more secrets to impart. She's already accepted one, after all.

honorary orcs can’t get them, I can’t support this discrimination, sorry...

Fiil’Yar riots, having been asked to donate over 70 books to the library in the past. Upon reading further, Fiil’Yar calms down a little bit, but is still upset she doesn’t have a card.

Alagard is my favorite font

Fiil’Yar writes into Vykk co. “The goods from the craftsman Vel, namely the three masks and the snowglobe, were created by my lifemate, now deceased, and I am highly offended by your attempts to gouge the prices Vel charged in order to turn a profit. They can still easily be bought from their source location for their original price. Cease listing these goods as they are disrespectful to the dead and outrageously overpriced, please. - Fiil’Yar, lifemate of Vel”

but my cactus lore :c

Name of your plant/reagent: Dafrisl Appearance: A small ball cactus no larger than a cantaloupe which naturally grows in large, bundled up clusters. Location: Arid deserts and canyons where drought is common, requiring almost no moisture to thrive. Raw effect(s) of the plant/reagent: When the flesh of its main stem is ground down and then dried, a single Dafrisl produces a small quantity of a psychoactive substance popularly known as “Cactus Green,” commonly used recreationally, religiously and to a lesser extent medicinally. When processed this way and ingested or burnt, Dafrisl produces a calming narcotic effect, inducing euphoria, relaxation, laziness, and impaired movement. Medicinally, Dafrisl’s high can be used to help mitigate the effects of nausea and pain to a minor degree. Harvesting: The entire above-ground body of a single cactus must be plucked in order to harvest the equivalent of a measure of its symbols and raw effects, requiring thick gloves or skin to mitigate the inconvenience of the spines covering the plant. Dafrisl can be cultivated when planted in dry soil, but requires both protection from humidity and abundant sunlight in order to thrive. Dafrisl is commonly selectively farmed to produce cultivar that accentuate different aspects of the herb’s narcotic effects and the potency thereof. Conversely, under poor conditions, the herb’s raw effects are diminished. Red Lines: -All Reagents must be gathered through RP and represented by ST approved items. -When processed for its Symbols, this Reagent will lose all of its raw effects and harvesting capabilities. -Farmed Dafrisl requires a 1x1 space within direct view of sunlight containing sand, as well as a desert or temperate greenhouse environment at minimum to be grown in, and will regrow at the rate of 1 count per 3 OOC days. -Cultivar of Dafrisl will always have the same Signs and Symbols, no exceptions. {field_name_279} {field_value_279} Alchemical Sign(s) (put N/A if none): Earth {field_name_281} {field_value_281} edit: the forums broke the submission, but its symbols were as follows: Peace x2 Curtailment x1 Slowness x1

Ｌûｐ’Ｋｒｕｇ, ｋｒａｎｋ Ｕｒｕｋ－ｈａｉ’ｏｂ； Ａｔｉｓｈ ｇｈａｓｈａｎ’ｔａｂ. Ｇａａｋｈ ｔａ ｔｒａｕｍ’ａｔ ｏｇｈ’ｔａｂ ｔｕｋ ｔａ ｍａａｒｕｂｈ’ｔａｂ. Ｋｒｕｇ, ｌûｐ＇ｉｚｇ ｇａａｋｈ’ｕｇ. ＴＨＥ ＣＯＤＥＳ： The ancient law of KRUG and his people, passed down through generations. Knowingly violating these laws spits upon the name of KRUG. Lûp’Krug. ＴＡＢＬＥＴ ＡＺＨ： MAARUBH’U KRUG-HAI Here follows the ancient code of the Krug-Hai, Krug’s most loyal warriors. All warriors are expected to hold to these as their own honor. Code Azh; Defying the Rex is to defy KRUG’s will. Only those strong enough to challenge their superiors may question their orders. Punishments: Demotion, Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing Code Dub; Defying the Targoth is to defy the Rex, except when the Rex himself orders such. Punishments: Demotion, Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing Code Gakh; One may not overthrow the Rex without first the approval of the Goths, then challenging his rule through a rex klomp. Punishments: Cursing, Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice Code Futh; One may not kill the defenseless or unarmed; They may be captured, but not slain in battle. Punishments: Demotion, Disarming, Pugging, Cursing Code H’; To raid the allies or friends of Krugmar is to violate the will of KRUG. Punishments: Demotion, Disarming, Pugging Code H’Azh; Using one’s military rank to influence the decision of their superiors is to dishonor one’sself and demerit their worth. Punishments: Demotion, Disarming, Pugging ＴＡＢＬＥＴ ＤＵＢ： MAARUBH’U ILZGÛLU Here follows the laws the spirits, which govern religion and mojo within the Uzg. All Uruk-hai are expected to hold these as their own honor. Code Azh; Faith in the Spirits must be absolute; The gods of outsiders may not hold higher in one's heart than the spirits do. Punishments: Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing, Sacrifice Code Dub; Greater than any other weakness of faith, practicing bûrz’mojo such as Dark Shamanism, Necromancy or Naztherak disgusts the Spirits and violates the will of KRUG. Punishments: Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution Code Gakh; To use the gift of Shamanism to further one’s personal agenda, rather than as a tool to guide and worship, is to abuse the Spirits themselves. Punishments: Pugging, Branding, Whitewashing Code Futh; Injuring or killing a shaman outside of an agreed-upon klomp violates the will of KRUG, the Spirits, and weakens the Uruk-hai. Punishments: Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution Code H’; To conspire with, shelter, or conceal a Dark Shaman is to be an accessory to their abuse of the Spirits. Punishments: Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution Code H’Azh; To seek the knowledge of Ixli, unless under the explicit command of the Rex himself and during great need, endangers the Uruk-hai and is to abuse of the gift of Shamanism. Punishments: Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution ＴＡＢＬＥＴ ＧＡＫＨ： MAARUBH’U HÛR Here follows the laws of honor, the cornerstone of Orcish culture; It is they that keep us on the path of Krug. All Uruk-hai are expected to hold these as their own honor. Code Azh; To klomp one who is unarmed, one must cast off their weapons as well. To ignore this command weakens one’s honor. Punishments: Painting, Pugging, Cursing, Branding Code Dub; To slay one who is outnumbered or vastly weaker than you is to shame the name of KRUG. They may be captured, but not killed. Punishments: Disarming, Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing Code Gakh; To kill someone who isn’t expecting it, such as during an honor klomp where death is not agreed upon or when they believe they are one's friend, spits upon the name of KRUG. Punishments: Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing Code Futh; Slaying a brudda outside of an honor klomp where such was agreed upon weakens the Uruk-hai. Punishments: Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice Code H’; Knowingly evading the consequences for one's actions, whether defeat or violation of the codes, is cowardice; One should accept their punishment. Punishments: Cursing, Branding, Mutilation, Whitewashing Code H’Azh; To form an oath or give one's word but fail to uphold it violates the will of KRUG and weakens one's honor. One’s word should never be questioned; It is one's law. Punishments: Mutilation, Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution Code H’Dub; Intentionally sewing rebellion and strife is not the uruk way; It is Krug’s will that his people openly state their dissatisfaction, not whisper of it in the shadows. Punishments: Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Mutilation Code H’Gakh; Refusing to honor the terms of a klomp spits on KRUG’s name and weakens one’s honor. Krug favors those who fight the hardest for what they believe. Punishments: Painting, Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing Code H’Futh; A klomp without reason is a klomp worth no honor; This includes klomps with outsiders who have done nothing to slight the Uruk-hai. Punishments: Painting, Disarming, Pugging, Cursing Code Azhty; To intentionally harm a kub of any race disgraces KRUG as well as oneself. Injury during training, trials, or klomps challenged by the kub themselves are the only exceptions. Punishments: Whitewashing, Sacrifice, Execution Code Azhty-Azh; Stealing from one’s bruddas, whether through stealth or honorless klomping, weakens one’s honor. Punishments: Pugging, Cursing, Branding, Mutilation, Whitewashing Code Azhty-Dub; Kneeling to any-ONE or any-THING violates the will of KRUG and weakens one’s honor. Punishments: Painting, Pugging, Cursing Code Azhty-Gakh; To force another to kneel disgusts KRUG; The dishonor of the act falls to the one who forced it to happen. Punishments: Cursing, Branding, Whitewashing, Sacrifice ＴＡＢＬＥＴ ＦＵＴＨ： MAARUBH’U ZNAGAZ Here follows the laws which govern znagas and their keepers; All Uruk-hai are expected to hold these as their own honor. Code Azh; One must see that their znaga is not abused and is given basic squallor to survive, but is not responsible for any more than such. Punishments: Painting, Pugging, Cursing Code Dub; A znaga has no right to insult any true-born uruk; One who failed to fight for their freedom may not freely disrespect their superiors. Punishments: Discipline, Branding, Mutilation Code Gakh; A znaga has no right to property; They must submit their belongings to their master or znagagoth. They may not refuse to do so. Punishments: Discipline Code Futh; A znaga is held to the same codes as any Uruk-hai; They may not violate the Codes of Krug. Punishments: Discipline, as well as suitable punishment for the code broken Code H’; A znaga with mojo must forgo practice of it; Refusal violates wth will of KRUG and the Spirits. Punishments: Discipline, Branding, Sacrifice Code H’Azh; One should treat a znaga who has become an honorary orc no different from their brudda; They have become one of the Uruk-hai. Punishments: Suitable punishment for any codes violated ＳＴＯＮＥ ＯＦ ＰＵＮＩＳＨＭＥＮＴＳ： In order of severity. A glossary of formalized punishments in accordance with the ancient Codes of Krug. PAINTING: A period of atonement served by painting an orc’s body with symbols, words and pigments to shame them. They may not wash the painting off until their atonement has been served. DISARMING: A period of punishment delivered by the confiscation of an orc’s weapons and barring from obtaining more until the punishment has been served. They may not participate in raids or challenge others to klomp during this time. PUGGING: A period of penance served by painting an orc’s tusks and face and encouraging the community to flog and shame them without retaliation. During this time, their klomps are invalid and they are considered honorless. CURSING: A period of penance served by an orc submitting themselves to being cursed by the shamans for their crimes, directly inflicting the spirits’ ire upon them for a period of time. BRANDING: Atonement served by the permanent branding of a sigil representing the offender’s crime. MUTILATION: Crippling or maiming an offender in such a way that in the future they are unable to perform their crime again; The severing of a thief’s hand, the removal of a liar’s tongue, etc. WHITEWASHING: Atonement served by banishment from orcish society and allowing them to be hunted with impunity. Those who are Whitewashed must undergo trials to lift their status. SACRIFICE: Execution carried out in the name of the spirit or spirits that an orc has wronged, optionally delivered through klomping until they are slain. EXECUTION: Execution delivered without the right to klomp or done in the name of the spirits, considered the harshest possible punishment, as it is a death denied of any honor. DISCIPLINE: Exclusive to znagas; Corporal punishment delivered at the discretion of the znagagoth that may not result in death or permanent mutilation. This should be done with a goal in mind; Abusing a znaga is, itself, against the codes.

I personally like the idea but honestly yeah, it’d be pretty gruelling to play a kid for almost an IRL year

RP was much easier to find with warp signs

this was JUST made live and I ALREADY saw someone try to emote “crack a smile” and it was corrected to “quartz a smile” – please don’t do this

Llenn Songbird frowns from beyond the grave as Datura forgets the song she wrote for the Snowflake.

As a long-time poltergeist player, I greatly approve of most of this. Many of the things I don’t like I’ve been told are products of compromise with the lore team, such as the inability to be passively invisible to set a scene.

can this be used for combat purposes?

Fiil’Yar frowns despite the good news, having hoped she could play a part in diplomatic talks, one of the few things she’s useful for.

yes please I don’t want to PK my gross hagraven tiefling also what can prove “legitimate RP”? I’ve been rp’ing lithren for like almost 2 years now and have no surviving screenshots of her rp’ing with her creator and never had any of her being created in the first place, but like I’ve been rp’ing her for a long time so

RP Name: Fiil’Yar MC Username: Gallic Discord: Gallic#9894 What Nation Are You Affliated With?: Krugmar Why Do You Wish To Come?: To help any of my brothers that go, to recover old books, and to study forgotten places. Especially old Krugmar. What Skills Can You Bring?: Healing, extensive LORE knowledge, mediocre fighting skills, speaking Old Blah, bard.