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SaltAlt

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About SaltAlt

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  1. SaltAlt

    Conflict & War FAQ

    Players already had an issue with how VBs were given out, and how vague some of the reasoning for their VBs being given were. All this is is an even more encompassing VB with even vaguer conditions for being given. I don’t see this new system not being abused and numerous players being CB’d over a bad emote or someone crying that they’re being attacked for being an ass in rp, claiming its “oocly driven” and staff just dropping the hammer without consulting the other party involved as has become the norm with VB’s.
  2. SaltAlt

    Conflict & War FAQ

    I honestly don’t know how staff expect players being in control will suddenly make everyone cooperate when players haven’t even been able to cooperate when staff were enforcing them to. This whole “people will naturally respect each other” mentality is nonsense and all that this change in rules will do is get rid of any consequences people used to have to face for being shitters in rp. Before if you were an ******* you’d get raided, now if someone’s an ******* you get to just watch **** be flung at you as you wait for a nation leader to give you permission to attack their people they’re supposed to be protecting. I don’t ever see a Nation leader consenting to any sort of war with any real consequence, who would willingly put their necks on the line? All this will do is allow players to harass each other in rp and rest easy knowing that they can’t be touched.
  3. Hold up, wasn’t the last Renatus>Haense warclaim in this blue circle? Like right outside their walls?

    https://imgur.com/a/NpczdaG  

  4. --posting on behalf of someone who has an agreement with Fireheart that they are allowed to do this.-- Everybody Hurts, Sometimes The flames of Dunharrow flickered gently in the crisp evening air. Two men sat on the cobbles of the Dunharrow Monastery. Both tall with shoulders more befitting scholars than warriors. Yet both clad in arms and armour, bearing many scars from the countless battles they had fought. Despite their relative youth. The silence between the two was broken “Aeyn” muttered the younger of the two, “I feel that my path has strayed. I cannot make amends but where we are is certainly no home for us” he’d say “Could the Caunter curse be true, could we be followed by death?” he’d utter turning and gazing deep into the flames of the Temple’s hearth. Titling his head bacak the masked priest chuckled shaking his head “The burdens of leadership my child. Every decision you make is wrong, some are just the least wrong”. He’d say sombrely his eyes turned downward as his fingers would nimbly play over the filigreed surface of his staff. “Ours in an ancient house, spanning the centuries it has not been others that were our folly. But ourselves. Over and over again we’ve slaughtered and betrayed our own blood. Mayhaps our blood is a cursed blood” he’d sigh silence once more embracing the monastic alcove. Emerging from the shadows stepped a tall man, clad in the furs and mail of a Nordish warrior he let fly a bolt aimed for the young Caunter. The bolt thudded into the calf of the young warrior, embedding itself deeply in his flesh as he’d cry out in pain,. Surging to his feet the armoured priest would roar, his flaming staff casting sparks and smoke about him as he’d rise “NOT IN MY TEMPLE YOU SUBHUMANS” he’d scream, the primal rage of old taking his veins. How dare they violate the guestright, how dare they taint hallowed grounds. Yet more and more of them slunk from the shadows, Nordishmen and mercenaries alike approached with deadly intent, the tabards of Silversteed, of Rorik, of Rosik all present. “Step away from the traitor, Aeyn” they said, pleadingly “We do not want to kill you”. Yet he would not be swayed. Facing down his companions, his kin, his battle brothers the priest stood. His chin raised arrogantly against his own doom “Any man that harms these men further will incur bloodfeud with the Edvardsson” He’d croak “But your sins to the Father, these cannot be forgiven by me, grovel before the Father and beg for his forgiveness” he’d continue his voice even and low. From beyond came the sounds of nailed boots, the tavern having emptied at the shouting. The banners of Caunter and a collection of townsfolk arrived. Chief amongst them Ein and Cassio. Briefly assessing the situation they drew blades and set forth, intent on subduing those who would break sacred law, who would draw weapons on hallowed ground in violence. Without further words battle was joined, the outnumbered defenders swiftly subdued by the assassins. The bannermen of Caunter secured as Aeyn and Ein were pulled to their feet. Once more they limped to stand before Landry Caunter. “You will have to kill me if you wish to kill this man” The wounded priest would cough. The Caunter bannermen were dragged to the center of the room, limp and unconscious. And in the center of the Temple, each was slaughtered like an animal. A brute, efficient slash to the throat. Then their limp still oozing bodies were cast aside, like refuse. “Perhaps we should depart” muttered Vladimyr, clad in the Rosiik colours, he’d look about uncomfortably fiddling with the Fatherist token strung about his neck. It in turn splattered in the blood of his fellow Fatherist. His fellows ignored him, pressing forward to slay Landry, yet shielded by the wounded yet resolute defenders of the Temple. Once more battle was joined, the warsong echoing about the high walls of the monastery. Blade on blade, steel on steel. Screams filled the night as men were butchered in the cramped confines of the monastery. Each in turn adding to the cacophony of war, the symphony of death. Aeyn, locked in battle with an imperial legionnaire. Cast them down, bleeding heavily before Vladimyr Rosik slid his blade through his back. Flow of battle seemed to slow as all would watch the man fall, his body rent from abuse. His flaming staff falling from his hands and clattering to the cobbles. The High Keeper was dead, slain by his own kin. Betrayed by his own brothers in arms. Truly a befitting death for a Ruric. As Aeyn fell his heart was filled with regret and sorrow. He had failed. To spread the faith, to defend his young nephew and grand nephew. To build a Norland worth having. His defiance, his stubbornness, his honour had cost him his life. Yet as his lifeblood leaked from his body all his achievements meant nothing. His young sons, mere children not yet having seen ten winters would be orphans. Their mother long gone. His brother would be left bereft of his council, his kingdom still enmeshed in war. His close friends Solvi and Tyr Faretto would never again grace his ears with their laughter, their bickering, the heartening cries of their children. “Farewell” he’d mutter, closing his eyes one last time. Thus, death took him. Some cried out in horror as they watched the once vital man fall, others simply remained silent. Coming to turns with the gravity of their actions. To slay traitors was one thing, to sin, but to slay the High Keeper. Such could not be so easily forgiven. The temple defenders were each in turn bound. Landry struggling mightily to touch the corpse of his adopted father one last time, tears streaming down his cheeks. Yet before he could, he we dragged away. All resistance gone as the cooling corpses faded from view. Then, as his clanfolk and his uncle before him. His life was cut short. William of Silversteed denying him his right of last words as he would slaughter the bound man with his blade. So death took Landry of Caunter. Returning to the hall the murderous band noticed Ein, chancellor of Norland and friend of Aeyn. Though both arm and foot were bound, he crawled with his chin. Desperately trying to be near Aeyn one last time before his own death. With tears streaming down his eyes he’d manage to rest his forehead on the chest of his beloved battle brother. The band would look about arguing amongst themselves whether or not the defenders should be slain, they could serve as witnesses, feudsmen for the future. So long as they lived there would be no peace. One by one they uttered their assent first William of Silversteed, releasing a brief “Aye” then the Vladimyr uttering a quiet “nay” followed by the legionary and the mercenary each in turn uttering “Aye”, So it was decided. Then almost lazily the legionnaire turned piercing the back of Ein’s skill with their blade as they wept atop the chest of their slain companion. So death took Ein of Yaander. Then, the cold eyes of the band turned to Cassio. “Put me with Aeyn” he said coldly, his eyes like daggers rending the soul of each murderer. So he was lain next to the now cool body of Aeyn, and his throat was unceremoniously slit. His blood leaked onto the saturated cobbles of the monastery, quickly becoming sticky as the violence settled. So death took Cassio of Dunharrow. And it was done. OOC:
  5. An Elfess raises her hand “2500!”
  6. ((Its almost like people don’t comprehend anything they read)) Astolfo Rosiere smiles after reading the parchment placed on his desk. he’d mutter to himself shortly falling back asleep upon his stacks of blueprints.
  7. Astolfo Rosiere smiles as he reads the paper. “Bon travail mon ami” he’d say returning to his blueprints plotting out their city.
  8. Yo, a few people including myself are having issues logging onto lotc, other servers are fine. something up?

  9. ((Cant delete post, hoping you find a buyer soon!))
  10. ((Could this be made into a steve skin?))
  11. Alright, I hate to say this but I don't see myself getting these done any time soon. Right after posting this life decided to become very busy for me and I also just accepted a rather big project. Fear not as I will still try to get the requests done, but it will take a MUCH longer time then expected as ill only be able to work on them when I can during the weekend. As a bonus everyone who ordered a bust ABOVE this comment will receive theirs for free. your payment is waiting longer. thank you for bearing with me.
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