Joltastik

[!] The same eerie missives find themselves plastered upon the notice boards of Human towns and cities, after the ceasefire announced between Norland and Oren’s forces. The scribbles within preach in the same prophetic dialect: To the Nations of Man! Tell me, how many times have you enjoyed the fruits of peace? How merrily do you cheer as your scar-ridden warriors drop their swords, only for their pox-ridden sons to pick them back up again? Are you naught but a slave to History? A slave to the forces that shape it everyday of your lives?! The Golden Pontiff prides himself in the privilege GOD gave him to seat the Throne of Men. As such, he gleefully exclaims the visions GOD gives him, for the public to consume! But what of OUR visions?! Why do their visions warrant our praise, belief and blatant obedience while our visions warrant the brands of “madmen”?! Surely, you see the dialectic! Beware the Golden Idols GOD sowed upon the Earth for you to overcome! Beware the wars they stage to your detriment, and to their benefit! Heed the signs of Entropy, and heed the signs of His arrival to save us all! By GOD ordained, RATS shall crawl from the Depths, and FROGS shall fall from the Heavens, marking His first warning to the Children of Horen! To those few faithful, lock your doors and smear tallow over your Hearth tonight, in the shape of a Cross. Sign the Lorraine three times, and pledge your allegiance to GOD himself, not to the puppets that emulate him! Signed, A Concerned Citizen

[!] Mysterious missives find themselves plastered unto the notice boards of the Realm, with most being found in the Northern region of Almaris. They seem to be written in an eerie and prophetic dialect, and are directed towards all live Descendants. One reads as follows: Hear ye, denizens of this Perceivable Realm! The Horned Ram of GOD comes to slay the wicked titans! Kings and Bishops, Rexes and Shamans, Magisters and Druids alike will cower in fear as their efforts to materialize the Word of GOD fall prey to Avarice! Children of Horen! Tell me, does their bureaucracy render grace unto our incorporeal Father? Do they procure their “taxes” for the sake of bettering the Realm?! Or do they shut themselves in their Ivory Towers, and use your hard-earned Minas to engorge upon countless wars, luxurious delicacies and wicked sins of the flesh? Verily, I say to you, repent from the wrath of the two-headed Eagle! Use your scythes and ploughs to feed your own, not the silken-clad idols claiming the Word of GOD itself! Forsake your blind servitude, and our Lord Father Above shall save you! Signed, A Concerned Citizen.

[!] Mysterious missives find themselves plastered unto the notice boards of the Realm, with most being found in the Northern region of Almaris. They seem to be written in an eerie and prophetic dialect, and are directed towards all live Descendants. One reads as follows: Hear ye, denizens of this Perceivable Realm! The Horned Ram of GOD comes to slay the wicked titans! Kings and Bishops, Rexes and Shamans, Magisters and Druids alike will cower in fear as their efforts to materialize the Word of GOD fall prey to Avarice! Tell me, Children of Malin! You dutifully tend to the ground of this Perceivable Realm, and the loyal Aspects that embody that which Word alone cannot… Yet in all of your conquests as ever-living gardeners of this World, have you ever stopped and thought to look at the Sky?! Will your life not reach an end, in spite of its longitude? Verily, I say to you, that I’ve seen beyond the Veil-- and there are no sanctuaries for the Souls of gardeners, as your faith promises! It is merely a lie imposed unto you by your betters so that they may go on and indulge in depravity! Forsake your blind love for the Material Realm which GOD blessed you to wander most, and see it for what it is! Broken and spoiled! Encroached by the black, glazed tentacles of Entropy! Forsake it, and our Lord Father above shall save you! Signed, A Concerned Citizen.

[!] Mysterious missives find themselves plastered unto the notice boards of the Realm, with most being found in the Northern region of Almaris. They seem to be written in an eerie and prophetic dialect, and are directed towards all live Descendants. One reads as follows: Hear ye, denizens of this Perceivable Realm! The Horned Ram of GOD comes to slay the wicked titans! Kings and Bishops, Rexes and Shamans, Magisters and Druids alike will cower in fear as their efforts to materialize the Word of GOD fall prey to Avarice! Tell me, Children of Krug! How can the tusks of your Rexes still possibly grow?! When was the last time your leader’s hair bore the red hue of Glory? When was the last time they actively sought out a Warrior’s Death-- the privilege to raise your Souls to the Sky above and tell your Exalted Ancestors of how you accepted the harsh Chaos of this world for what it was-- and fought until the End despite it. Verily, I say to you, That your Kin grew too fond of life, and would rather render their Souls to be continuously befouled by Monks instead of pridefully leaving this plane towards the GrogHalls of your Ancestors once faced with better contenders. Forsake your fear of living life as Krug did. Face the forces of Iblees Entropy Flood Wheel Chaos Sata, BoM [!](This word has been crossed and replaced by many others, though they have been all scribbled over, making them impossible to read!) head-on until the End, and our Lord Father above shall save you! Signed, A Concerned Citizen.

[!] Mysterious missives find themselves plastered unto the notice boards of the Realm, with most being found in the Northern region of Almaris. They seem to be written in an eerie and prophetic dialect, and are directed towards all live Descendants. One reads as follows: Hear ye, denizens of this Perceivable Realm! The Horned Ram of GOD comes to slay the wicked titans! Kings and Bishops, Rexes and Shamans, Magisters and Druids alike will cower in fear as their efforts to materialize the Word of GOD fall prey to Avarice! Tell me, Children of Urguan! For how long have you coveted the minerals and gems of this Perceivable Realm’s depths? Their value is undisputed, but who MADE that value?! Verily, I say to you, Virtue holds more value than any topaz, diamond or corundum! Use your picks to carve an Ark that will shelter your kin from the coming Storm! Forsake your Avarice, and our Lord Father Above shall save you! Signed, A Concerned Citizen.

[!] Neat papers are nailed all over the bulletin boards of Arcas, written and distributed in relative haste -- though the author sure took his time to sound as whimsical as possible. They read as follows: ”A holler to any and all survivors of the onslaught in the Accursed Swamp! I, a humble being of sheer curiosity, wish to gain an insight into the happenings of last month’s ill-starred battle with the magickal, faceless residents of the Swamp of the Damned! I merely wish for a short conversation (over drinks, of course) with any of you brave warriors, as to record any detail (or heroic feat YOU managed to accomplish amidst the bloodshed!) in my upcoming chronicle, titled “The throes of Arcas”! In it, I wish to transcribe any and all obstacles the brave Descendants had to go through in their efforts to settle within this untamed Realm (of course, bearing in mind attention to detail.) I don’t have much in the ways of rewards, but I can assure your name WILL appear in my tome, as a direct source! If you feel like you have anything to share as to the OBJECTIVE nature of this anomaly, please send me a bird right away, and we will meet, surely! Yours truly, Leo.” Discord: Joltastik#2008

T̫̟͠o̢̝̞̼̜ͅ ̵̞͚͙̻͔i̫̠̪͙̱͓ṇ͈v͎̝̣̟̻o̭̘̣̼͙k̺e̙͙͎̝ ̣̖̦͖̝ͅt̩̯̘h̝e̲͖͖̫̩͘ͅ ͈̘͔̥̬ͅh̛̞͚̦̙i̻̺̱̞̞̲v̺͇e͔̼̥-̡͚͓͈̮̭̼m̝̩i̺̼͍͞n͇̙̝̫̞̱ḑ͇͉͍ ̯̭́r̺̘̻èp̷r̨ḛ̥̞̖̤͍̙s̱e͈̼̫͍̹̕nt͘i̧̭͕̖̗̭n͏̯͕̭g͇̼̥̝̣̮ ̯͎̫͚̗͖̩C҉̱͖̜̹ͅh̙̦a͇̦̯̤̻̻o͉̬s̮͍̘̱̩.̯̖͙ Ị̱n̷̗͈v̢͉͇̱o̗̙̳̘ͅk̲̱͈̩̗̘͜i̲̮̠̹͙̟n̠͕g̡͈͙̳̬͈ ̺͔̠ͅt̟̠̟̤̤͇h҉̹̱͚̜̗e̷͓̫ ̞̣̙̬̤͟ͅf̸̼͙e͕̘̜̩͙̼͡e͚̩̫l̝͔̝̯͔̪i̟͕̹̗ͅn̢g̟̫̠̝ ̫̣̹̳̭͉ǫ̫͓̬̘f̢̪͎̰ ̞͙̟͈̮Ch̕a̱̝o̺̜͕̜͓͈̬s̢ͅ.͏̹̼̯͚̙ͅ ͈͔͙̠Wi̬͖̘̙͎̱t̢̹ḩ͎̺͍ ̝͎ò̜̪ut̶̼̣͇͕ o̩̞̤̫r̺͈̖̟̻̟ͅḍ̜̙̪̤̙̯ẹ͇̲r̛ͅ.҉ ̩̣T̠͇h̵̻̳̱͓e̮ ̧̭̱e̵͕̼̦̦̠͖͙ç̦̤̼̗̹͈ṳ̥͘m͙̦̝̼̘e̻͙̟n̗̞̼̗̻i̷̮̦̣̝̖̞̦c͉̞̘a͉̝l҉̥͎ ͅḥ͜i̩͘v̞e̗̙͈̬-̹̗̭̠̥m̬͕͚̫̯͞ͅi҉̮̼̣̩ͅn̤͓d҉͚͚͙̞̘̖ ̤͕̯̟o̰͎̗̹̣͙f̨̗͎ͅ ̱̗̺c҉͎̤̪̬̣̘͍h͈̦͢ͅà͍̪̱̫ọ̫̠̱̀s.̷͎͓ ͙̖̫̘̜͢H̰e͙̠͖̞̰̞͜ ̶͖̭̰̭̞̤w̱̝͘h͚͓̘͝ơ͚̦̭ ̛̙̟̻̩ͅW̲͎̜͍͎̻a̤̫͔̥͔̱i̘̟̯͙͝ͅt͎̥͈̘͖̗ͅs̵̻̥͎̜̭ ͚̥̞̳B͙̪͙͡e̫̗͈̫̱h̖̣͚͙͓̠ͅi̭̠̘͚̼̯͢n̵͉͔d҉̬͇̞̭̱̦̝ ̭T̖͝h͙̜͍̣̝̟́é͙͍͚̥̝ ͉̺̫͚v̥̮̼͢e̠̫̜̠̘͕i̬̟̼̹͔͙l̛̘͓͎̣͍͚͖.̣̦̹̩̝͟ͅ ̫Ṱ̖͢h̻̗͖̥̜̲͓e̦͕̗͉͍͙͡ ̻̝̰̣͉̦G̖̜̟̹͉̻̕a̸͙̘̫̮̭̮͉r͕̹̠d͉̱̟͔̜̜̀ę̣͖ͅn̠̯̣̼̠er̸̗̭ ̟̮͍̰͔o͇f̧̻̞ ̝M̯̳̜̭̺̺̰ḛ͙n͡ͅ.̶͍͉̙̭ W̟̲̯͎̼͍a̘͍͇͕̻̤͠ͅk̖͚̖e̼̞͖ ̧ͅu̟̩̩̤͈̯̰p̢͎̙͔̠̻̟͎. ̝ ̰̭͚̥͞N̫̼͡ọ̴ ̼͎̟͚͢h̗͓̦͙̪͟o̙͚͇͙̭̬p̜̳̥͟e̪̣̪̞.̧̣͚͉̰͎ -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- Naught endured. Naught but the glaciers, whose tips leaned to a side, as if to gaze upon what was left. Yet naught was left, and the wind wept because of it. Its howls battered against the waning snow, as if to push it aside, desperately searching for the relics of an age bygone. It found nothing. The snow ran too deep. The glaciers, greedy, told the wind nothing of what they grasped. They held the frozen relics close to their hearts, encased beneath the mounds of ice. Protected, in a way, though inaccessible to the outside world. Not that there was much of a world outside, anyway. Among the frozen relics, of which they were many, resided one item in particular. A journal. Once dust-ridden and forgotten, this journal now laid glazed, encased beneath a lonely glacier’s unwavering chunks. Nobody could know of this journal, as nobody was alive to care of it. Nobody could recite its one passage, written in the form of a letter. A letter meant for a different outcome. A letter written by one naive young man whose heart, though hidden, still sparked of idealism. . . . “Dear Vicelin, If you’re reading this, you have succeeded. You’ve prepared me. By now, I must be gone, ready to face the worst they have to offer. I tell ya’, those sops at the Hexicanum don’t know what they’re expecting, having me and Bart train alongside them snot-faced Initiates who’ve never seen ‘nary a vodnik, before! Them Sparrows will be surprised. I don’t doubt me and pretty-boy’ will ace the trials. Would’ve addressed this to Renuald too, you know, but i know him enough to reckon he’ll dismiss it. In truth, this letter’s purpose is to thank you, ‘fore anything. I’ve only heard tales of how men come out of there-- cold, harsh, and barren of wordly bonds. If that is, in fact, the truth, this’ll be the only piece of proper gratitude you’ll ever get out of me. A last ******* ode to the good days, just in case I don’t return the same. I was lost ‘fore i met you bunch. The Initiative gave me purpose, a home, and men worthy of sharing it with. You, Renuald, Eddard, Jentos, Bart, Alfred-- hell, even that blasted bloodsucker we took in. That twig-hugging elf, Veidan, too. I look upon each of our bounties and escapades, and find myself both lucky to be alive, and lucky to have been among yous’. Remember our first trek in Adelburg’s sewers, or when we had to rescue those midgets from being eaten by Quotpedes in ol’ Oak a short while ago? Annoying *****, that one Frostbeard, was this close to cutting off that blabbing tongue of his! Don’t think me nostalgic, Vic. I’m looking forward to what’s ahead. In fact, upon return, I’ll have already set eyes upon my very first contract! There’s this odd abandoned city north-west of ol’ Johannesburg i came upon in my travels once -- before meeting yous’ all, in fact – that’s got quite the ghoul problem. Some strange man clad in plate lives there, blabbin’ of a giant that loomed over the city one night.. ‘Size of a Mountain!’, he said. What ******* hogwash! Don't think there’s much else to say, except thank you. For all of this. Thank you. See you when I see you, Sighard. P.S: Tell Bart I wrote this prissy bullshit, and i’ll throw you off Winterhall’s pallisades.”

Shut it DOWN right NOW please keep the alternate timeline narratives to those books you’re writing or whatever

Self explanatory. Prices vary because i like haggling over pixel money (i take irl shekels too if you’re feeling generous). FOREWARNING: I’m generally **** at making full plate, dresses, and helmets. Here’s a few examples of skins i made: If you're interested, slide into my Discord DMs for some fun time ;^) Joltastik#3780

bro you’re 19 it’s just hormones. Get a proper diagnosis if you genuinely think its more than that, please.

Nobody said you can't summon your little tree spirits, bud. You could at least make it more unique and in depth, because the current 'clarification' goes as far as to tell you that you should gather some dancers and druids and do some unspecified ritual until a poopy-doopy animal spirit spawns (or not). I'm not criticizing the lore because i don't want druids to spawn their mani. I'm criticizing the lore because each piece of lore and it's respective branches are supposed to provide original rp rather than rehashing already used ideas. they are painstakingly similar in several manners=/= it's a carbon copy of it. Well, your post re-brought it to the surface, and lore is always open to free criticism. That, and the addition of simplistic, half-assed summoning rituals. rofl

Only with the enlisted help of a farseer and through substancial rp (If the Spirit even cares to manifest itself). Otherwise, spirit manifestations only happen during vague ass dreams, and even then they're extremely rare, and mostly called off as the imagination of the one that dreams it. As far as I can see, the 'summoning' ritual and process here is quite lackluster. Enough dancers and druids and unspecified rituals and you can summon a god? lol **** boundaries, see above. superficial aesthetic similarities? You mean the core jist of it, just without the detail?

Nobody's saying it isn't plausible, neither are they saying that orcs have a trademark on pagan shamanism-type religions. What they are saying, though, is that it's kinda **** and counter-productive when your piece of lore is literally the same as another piece of lore already implemented into the server. Like, literally from the way you summon them, to the nature of lesser spirits etc. Yeah, sure, have your deities. Try at least to have some sort of unique twist on them maybe. Something that doesn't break consistency by resembling other deity-lore head to toe (whether you actually inspired yourself from 'kwakwakwakwa' dances or not). Try and keep a stake of originality, for the server's sake if anything else.

Nûrzum "Azh-Peep", Warchief of the Izig clan, sloppily signs the parchment.

The former capital of Krugmar was given to the Horde of Thagurz'Grish by The Dominion. Whether it's gonna be lost to that weird ass autumn frog god is to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wall of the Dead: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -ANOTHER COMRADE KILLED IN ACTION, SEEKING TO FULFILL THE INITIATIVE'S PURPOSE AND IDEALS TO THEIR VERY END, IN SPITE OF HIS OWN KIN'S PERVERTED VALUES. TO OUR COMRADE: VEIDAN Sky Guide you.

[!] Beneath each missive, a scribbled index laid, revealing quite the sombre roster. It read: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wall of the Dead: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -A BROTHER FALLEN, VICTIM TO THE [REDACTED] HE SOUGHT TO SLAY IN UNDOUBTED PERSEVERANCE. TO OUR COMRADE: ELIAS Sky Guide you.

[!] Ominous missives are nailed across Atlas, be it on a post on the roadway, or the bounty board of a mundane city. The large cranium of what seemed to be a canine creature was drawn unto the page, garnering the attention of few. The Outerhaven Initiative Great threats require great men, with able minds and bodies to oppose them. Far too long have we left the foul, alien forces of the wicked go by unnoticed. Perverted magicks and afflictions of degenerate-kind, all actively contained, tolerated and sometimes even protected by today’s folk and kingdoms. We are but a simple group of individuals aiming to mitigate the foreign threats of this realm swiftly and effectively, as well as to lend our helping hand to the Nations that need it by use of special procedures which ones may deem unorthodox. ..For in a world filled with depravity, one must always sustain their purpose, and apply his trade during times of crisis. [!] A faded symbol litters the bottom of the missive, perhaps a signature of sorts. Nothing more. [This Faction operates under a PK clause!]

"We're talking horrors. . . with the power to collide worlds as they please. We're not fit to lick their boots." . . . "Gives me conniptions.."

"If you're gonna do this, at least keep it pure, Lion." An old veteran remarks with contempt.

Imo, luminescent psychopatic little boys/girls :33333 would be the last thing this server needs. Except a few minor perks I really don't see how they would spice up the server in any way. They seem to be just glowing children with regenerative properties and edgy little mindsets. I can see you've put a lot of work in this, but I just wouldn't see it fitting. It's a -1 from me.

Deep within the halls of Redmarch's Hexicanum, a brutish Adunian sits next to an anvil, daftly swinging a hammer as to work the raw metal of an unrefined blade. An elderly man would stand over him, a fox chain medallion dangling from his neck, and a lengthy stick in his grip. For every blind swing, the elder man would hit the large Adunian with the stick, yet for each thought-out, dexterously-brutal strike, the old man would whisper secrets. Secrets of the old ways of the beastsmiths. ((me likey. Well thought out, not too OP low-fantasy lore that can give mundane swordmasters some extra lore to expand into.))

Totes. +1

Just wait, man... Just wait.. As for thread, I like it. Unfortunately, there's too many playable creatures running about imo, it already destroys the fantasy and unique vibe. I root for them as event creatures, not as playable ones, though.