Jump to content


Ender VIP
  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

144 Brilliant


About Nonival

  • Rank
    Stone Miner
  • Birthday 10/14/1999

Contact Methods

  • Discord
  • Minecraft Username

Profile Information

  • Gender

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Nona || Aldonza Castelo || Rosyra Belladonna
  • Character Race
    Highlander || Heartlander || Halfling

Recent Profile Visitors

3744 profile views
  1. Hiya anyone stumbled on this post: I still have a lot of LOTC related documents from when I was super involved and go back through them on occasion. Stumbled across one that I remember putting quite a bit of effort into! The old Castelo drink collection. Here’s the doc if anyone wants to see:




    This collection was before the map change so does not exist in the world anymore, but still neat to look back on and remember the double chests of drinks proudly stored at the Castelo estate. Might share some other docs and fun pictures later. 

  2. “This tah be the vereh bes’ drinkin’ night, I don’ doubt! None bettah in all tha land!” Liesl waves a fist triumphantly
  3. Fat +1 Not only was the parliament rp from last map intriguing and in-depth, it opened a lot of doors for character development. There’s nothing quite like voting on and choosing rp beliefs to figure out who it is that you’re really playing as well as getting to know the characters around you better. And there was rp drama with a crap ton less of ooc drama (bless those news posts). I’d also be excited to see things on a more of an election base so we don’t see people like me who get irl stuff come up and can’t actually propose policies or complete investigations like planned (sorry language ;-;)
  4. (Hip hip huzzah for the halfling golden age! And thanks a million to all those halflings that make the group so wonderful and work so hard for it)
  5. Liesl runs forward, dragging her papa behind her “C’mon c’mon hurry!” Primary Shogger: Rollo Applefoot Secondary Shogger: Liesl Applefoot Desired Team Color: Yellow
  6. Liesl Applefoot, after a long day of a proud tinker’s work would skip back to the Applefoot dwelling, eager to hear the news of the latest Pumpkin Raid from kinsmen and parentage alike! Who now has vowed a life of peace? What would be shared at the table, drinks in hand, of strange bigguns and merry tavern tales? But it was not into a happy home and proud aura that Liesl returned to. The young halfling looked up to her father and Thain with a worried gaze, sensing his spirit to be off put. And with a woeful look in return, he shared that dreadful news. The peaceful role model and faithful Knoxist would return no more to cheer her on in shogging matches or nod approvingly at her most recent creations. Or even to tell a bedtime story when the night seemed especially dark and the world far too big for a young’in halfling. The tyke sealed herself away to process the news of her mother’s death. And she would stay sealed away within the Applefoot’s humble burrow for the days and weeks and year to come.
  7. My signature is a handy dandy list of past and present characters. Dame Aldonza the human is the character I ended up putting a lot of effort into and has a lot of accomplishments under her name. I enjoy seeing other communities and races, so I’ve experimented with a few interesting personas. Currently, my mains would be Ildaria (Aldonza’s daughter) and the halfling Liesl of the wonderful and ever growing Applefoot family.
  8. I drive more boats then I do cars sooo.... when sailing if the wind is coming over the starboard gunwale, I’ll sit on the starboard side with the rudder in my left hand and the main sheet for controlling the sail in my right. (Or the coinciding line for the jib if I’m running a jib sail off the bow and then just keep the main in a cleat.) If the wind is coming over the port gunwale, just switch everything previously mentioned. If the wind is coming from stern... who cares. Close reach or no reach don’t @ me on this. If it’s coming from the bow well you’re just a sitting duck then. Might as well paddle your way to shore for getting yourself in irons in the first place.
  9. Nonival


    Keep fighting the good fight, m'dude. Stay safe out there and don't forget your pixel battle brothers.
  10. The Encounter Aldonza Castelo takes a tentative sip of the wine, eyes glimmering in delight as the decadent liquid passes her lips. The woman leans back in her chair, swirling the wine as she looks up towards the evening sky, “Ah, yes. The story of my scar.” Her gaze drops back to the inquisitor. “I suppose it all began with a Grand Marshal and the King’s quest.” This was no simple errant quest. The far Southern reaches of Atlas is a cold and unforgiving wasteland of death. It is far too easy for the common man to fall prey to frostbite, starvation, or worse. However, if the King wanted the Southern region of Atlas mapped, then by the Seven Skies Roland Castelo would see it done. Four other brave souls would come to accompany him on this endeavour. The Sergeants Aldonza Cervantes and Vittore Stefano Volaire- both seasoned warriors of the Legion- help form the backbone of the group. Then, of course, there was the recruit. Bringing Jack along was clearly a mistake, but this was merely a mapping expedition and there were other soldiers of experience to call upon if necessary. The final member of the team would be a man by the name of Louis. A scholar of questionable scholarly attributes that was itching for a bit of adventure. Unbeknownst to them just what fate had in store, the five packed their bags and headed off towards the snowy mountains. The sky would soon grow dark as skies often do and crystal-esque snowflakes began to fall softly about the travelers. Five weary travellers came to a halt in a field of white. For you who might never have dared the forbidding Southern reaches, night is not a pleasant time to traverse the land. Three stayed behind to prepare tents and the yearned for embrace of a fire while the Sergeants split off, moving several yards out in separate directions to scout the region they had settled. Sergeant Aldonza was the first to return followed shortly by Sergeant Vittore. Each soldier announced their own discovery of ruins and edifices to the Grand Marshal. Over the crest of a small hill a few mere steps away, the other two followed the Cervantes to her findings. The ruins of a wall connecting two snowy hilltops loomed over them, too refined to be that of the ice wall that keeps the people of Atlas confined to that which they call home. Not to mention that this particular wall had a sizable archway within the center of it, guarded by cracking statues taller than any uruk could hope to stand. These desolate ruins posed no foreseeable threat, so a mark on the map and promises to return to investigate in the sun’s light were made as the group continued on to what the Sergeant Vittore had observed. Trudging over the flurry brushed hills- struggling to maintain their balance with the sporadic trembles of the ground- the trio came in sight of a Keep. Hopeful walls glowing of candlelight stood firm, beckoning to the soldiers. The remaining comrades were quickly summoned from the camp and together they all stood before the closed gates of solace. Their calls for the master of the house- or anyone willing to open its gates- were answered only by their own voices, echoing into the night. The darkness of forsaken hope cast its veil upon the union. Biting cold kissed them with icy lips and the wind seemed to howl only louder. It was nay over for the group, but the thought of returning to their little fire when compared to the comfort of shielding walls and warm food wrought everything in despair. Even the faint trembles of the ground seemed to grow in strength and number. For so they did. The howls of the wind were mere whispers in light of the thundering roar that made even the gargoyles adorning the Keep tremble at its might. A new chill- that which had little to do with the snow and wind- passed over our heroes. Five travellers of forgotten weary plow onwards through the snow, further up the mountainside to a surface of stone. The foundation of some structure lost to time. Moonlight glistens off soldiers’ blades and arrow tips alike as suspense plays its cruel tricks, catching breaths and warping time to a dreamlike halt. Even the gale waits silently, reverently, for the beast to make its debut. Now matter how the wind blows, the mountain does not bow before it- so say some. But this creature of fury and frost makes trembling cowards of the mountains. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sounds of night and rumbling ground applaud the warrior of the Southern reaches. Its icy gaze, peering around a snow-capped mountain peak, strike the group unlike any sword. This creature was surely one of the Seven Skies. Scales formed of the stars themself glisten. And from the wyvern of ice and frost so booms its powerful roar. “To arms! Stand your ground!” The voice of the Grand Marshal battles for dominance over the beast’s. Two arrows whistle through the air, each meeting its mark. Bows hold favor over the sword wielders as the creature pushes up into the sky. For a moment, the language barrier between man and wyvern is undistinguishable. All its rage is encompassed in a powerful breath of ice and wind. Those with shields raise them high before their comrades as more arrows are knocked at the ready by those with a bow to release them. These weapons of war are but toys to the beast. It’s roar replicates that of a merciless laugh as it swoops forward, claws outstretched to ****** up its nearest prey. Soldiers leap into action to no avail. Sergeant Vittore is raised briefly into the night sky for a mere few feet before the creature loses hold on its stubborn victim. Nonetheless, he is momentarily left winded by the cracked stone that greets him. The notion that the layer of ice protecting the wyvern is impenetrable begins to settle in their mind. Their arrows are practically useless against its natural shield. Fear shrouds them for but a moment when the Grand Marshal calls out once more “Down the mountain men and to the North!” Without question, the group hastens down the mountainside. Though they run in fear, do not take this act in cowardice. Soldiers and scholar alike career onwards to an awaiting forest. Snow begrudgingly gives way to forest floor, leaving frosted puddles here and there. Within the woods embrace, the five each take to the cover of a tree and await the approach of their predator. It’s cry announces its presence before the shaking of the ground as it lands ever could. The soldiers whirl around from behind the decent safety of their respective trees all at once. Arrows are knocked into place once more by Sergeant Vittore and Footman Jack as the other two soldiers begin their charge unto the beast. The Sergeant Aldonza fuels her charge with a mighty warcry only to receive a roar in return. The barrier of tongues is meaningless once more as the two foes cry out to one another, each one mightier than the last. Before any real winner can be determined, blades and arrows descend at once upon the beast. The weapon that were once useless strike the beast, its armor of ice melting away in the warmer air of the woods. Blood and sweat taints the air. The moon casts shadows of the battle upon the trees- the sole audience to the scene. Man and beast alike stir up the mud of the earth in their struggle. Blade and arrow upon scales. Claws and icy breath upon shield and armor. With a sickening squelch, the Grand Marshal’s blade is thrust into his foe once more in a substantial blow. The wyvern launches into the sky with a cry of agony, the action ripping the weapon from the officer’s grasp. Sergeant Aldonza is quick enough to leap back as their foe quickly descends, but the same cannot be said for the Castelo soldier. Five yells of varying intensity ring out. Bows are replaced in haste with swords and two sergeants, a recruit, and a scholar move with newfound rage to the aid of their Grand Marshal. Its victim still mangled beneath its claws, the wyvern spreads the once beautiful wings of icy crystals out. The air whistles from the sheer force of the motion as its wings arc forward, dangerously sharp claws upon each like that of a bats reaching to strike at its oncoming enemies. Another powerful blow is delivered, a claw catching the face of Sergeant Aldonza- the wyvern’s nearest opponent. The woman is sent flying back, leaving the remaining three to see a losing battle won. But their wrath holds no meaning to the foe, satisfied with the chaos it has wrought. The magnificent creature takes to the sky. And so the wyvern flies off, tracing its path of flight in a trail of blood. The trees look upon what remains of the group mercilessly. Two soldiers kneel beside their officer, looking unto the lethal damage done as the scholar moves to see to the wounds of the Cervantes. “Help the Grand Marshal,” the woman pushes Louis away, crawling forward towards the others as one hand clutched to the blood that pools from her face. It is evident that time will not be kind unto our five hopeless heros. Roland does no more than groan as the life slips from his weary form. Aldonza clutches the wound dealt to her face, pleading for someone to save him, damnit! Vittore looks over the wounds of his fallen friend and leader with a hopeless stare. Louis digs through what little supplies they still had on them in a desperate attempts to find something of medical value. Jack goes back and forth between Louis and Roland, as unsure as the rest of them as what was left to be done. And all of them slowly feel the weight of the night’s battle and the wretched nightmare they bore witness to bear down upon their shoulders. Aye, the story could end here. You who comes to know of this forlorn tale must surely now weep for our fallen heroes. But do not let yourself despair, for the trees themselves must have whispered of their state to passing wanderers. Three beings emerge from the foliage, surely Aenguls come to lift their sorrows and heal their wounds. And they do. One of the three embodiments of hope steps forth, enacting miracles of medicine unto the wounded soldiers. The three beings leave almost as quickly as they came, leaving no more than whispered words of advice and healing wounds. Those of us the wiser know the trio to nay truly be Aenguls, but for such light to pierce the veil of despair, they may have as well been. Five comrades sit in the woods. A Grand Marshal, two Sergeants, a recruit, and a scholar. Tonight they rest and give thanks for their life’s. But the time may come- the time will come- when five comrades seek out their foe once more. ((A few quick notes! This story is based an actual event that occured within LOTC. A huge thanks to Unwillingly who was the ET member who ran the event and later on also ran the revenge event. Also a huge thanks to Zac Clay who happened to have been streaming LOTC at the time and dropped by to stream a bit of the tail end of this event. And of course, a huge thanks to all those that were participants in the event and got to experience this with me! This forum post has been a long time coming and I’m really glad to be able to have finally finished this so that I might share it with all of you. Please let me know if you would like me to write a part two for this that entails the revenge story.)
  11. That feeling when you finally sit down and read all those forum posts that you set aside to read later. 

  12. “One thousand and two hundred minas!!”
  13. Heading to a renaissance festival tomorrow for my birfday! Just finished up my costume and super excited ? ? ?

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Nonival


      oh yeah I might throw some up later


    3. Unwillingly


      Dude I want to the Ren festival last weekend ?  You should totally post pictures of your costume

    4. Jondead


      Happy briffenday ? hope it is wonderful!

  14. There goes my beautiful 69 upvotes ;-; 


    And I didn't even think to get a screenshot. 

  • Create New...