ashenyx

On 1/6/2019 at 4:51 PM, drfate786 said:

 

Only women have long hair, so ur gae.

unfunny joke is unfunny, even if said ironically

normally, irony makes things funnier

but this joke

is just a black hole of unfunny

nothing can fix it. any attempt to spice it up will be nullified by its stark emptiness.

it is b a d  j o k e

(i’m sorry, roasts are not my forte. also, i have no idea who you are.)

Honestly, I think the wiki provides the best explanation for people not aging their human characters much- humans sort of “halt” from 25-60 years old, though the length of the halting depends on the human (and by extension, the rper). I myself am guilty of this, as one of my characters is a human who has aged rather slowly for the last twenty ig years. As long as people don’t do this to an unrealistic degree (century-old humans looking in their thirties), I really don’t mind.

On a slightly unrelated note, elf aging would be sort of cool. Obviously they wouldn’t age like humans, but maybe have something to distinguish 400-year-old elves from 50-year-old ones. Brighter eyes, or lighter hair, or something.

also the elf insanity thing is basically useless at this point, i haven’t met anyone who rped it

On 12/22/2018 at 7:09 AM, Freja said:

He gave presents to Elves, always trying to get ▓▓▓▓
(red: have meaningful slice-of-life rp focused on deep character development)

my sides

are burning

help

Simon Birchenwald smiles softly at the news. “It’ll be nice to forget the weather for a while... but how long’ll it take before everyone at the feast is stark raving drunk?”

my dog. he is cute.

Also, this server. I don’t know what I’d be doing if it weren’t for you all.

“Are we a big boy kingdom now? It seems we are a big boy kingdom now,” Simon Birchenwald probably says.

     The man woke with a start.

     Glancing wide-eyed at the corners of his bedroom, he found nothing remarkable. The nightstand was sitting to his left as it always did, a heavy oak thing with a single unlit candle on top. In front of him was the bedroom window, which at this time showed nothing but blackness; and to his left was the bedroom door, slightly ajar. Just as he had left it.

     The man softly exhaled, relieved. A strange terror had gripped him just after he woke, and it was reassuring to know that nothing lurked by the nightstand, or crouched on the windowsill, or stood behind the door. Whatever nightmare he just suffered was over. Everything would be fine.

     He rolled over to his right side and slowly let his eyelids close, contented. 

     And then the door moved. It was only by a hair, barely visible, and if it hadn’t creaked, it certainly would not have been noticed- but it did, and the man’s eyes flew open. Startled and rather annoyed, he glared at the door for a solid five seconds. When it did absolutely nothing, he rolled over, attributing it to a stray breeze, though he had felt none.

     As he closed them for the second time, a painful orange glow cast itself on the back of his eyes. Blinking fast, he saw through slits that the candle on the nightstand was burning merrily away. The man immediately sat up and rubbed his eyes. When the flame refused to disappear, he turned over again to his left side and squeezed his eyelids shut. Maybe he was just hallucinating, the man thought. Maybe it would go away if he just went to sleep. Maybe all of this was a dream.

     The door began to creak again. The man reached up to cover his ears, but it the sound only grew louder. He gritted his teeth and pressed his hands down harder. Nothing. The creaking became progressively sharper, as if the door was moving faster. A breeze from his left caressed his face with icy fingers, which became a freezing wind, rattling the shutters and the nightstand but somehow leaving the candle burning. Shivering, the man pulled the covers over his head and begged someone, anyone, to stop the horrible noise.

     And just as he had thought that, it ceased. The wind stilled. The candle blew out. The man lay there in silence for a few moments, eyes open, then slowly peeled the covers from over his head. 

     The door was completely agape, he noticed. Beyond it lay nothing but blackness. Confused and somewhat relieved, the man rolled over to see his nightstand, the candle still smoking, and a cloaked figure staring down at him with voids for eyes. A chill ran through his body. He pinched the skin of his left hand, but the figure didn’t vanish. With a pit of dread in his stomach, the man stared at it- but not for long, as the figure reached out with two icy fingers and slowly lowered his eyelids. 

...And that’s why you don’t eat spooky bread, folks.

Having heard this, Simon Birchenwald places his near-empty mead down with a loud thud. He looks over to Demetrius, a single eyebrow raised. “I can’t say I know most of zem either, but how haf you not heard of Steward Dhoon?” he says rather loudly.

A rather tall man wearing an old, frayed, blue waistcoat is seen approaching the Red Square. He pauses for a moment in front of the lone table in its midst, then climbs on top and clears his throat to the surrounding citizens.

”My name is Simon Birchenwald, and I have three promises to make if I become Maer.”

The crowd quiets.

“Firstly, I shall see to it that the Library is stocked fully with books. There- there are hardly any. We, the citizens, should have access to literature. Books should not be a privilege of the nobles any more.”

“Secondly, I shall try to make sure every square metre of Markev is used. There are some rather empty bits. What with the recent population growth here, I feel every part of Markev should be used for something.”

”Finally,” Simon says, a pink flush creeping up his neck, “I shall accept all into our city. Maybe... maybe even non-humans.” He fidgets for a few moments. “That is all.”

Simon bows jerkily, jumps off the table, and runs towards the tavern.

aw dernit, I had one about capsaicin

Simon Birchenwald hesitates for a good ten seconds in front of the board before hastily scribbling “Simon Birchenwald” in loopy script. He then sprints away, muttering, “What am I doing?” to himself.

Honestly, I'm just excited for the new water graphics. Even if there weren't cool new LOTC-based things coming with the 1.13 update here, I'd still be happy because default water right now looks like blue Jello.

*slow clap*

Simon Birchenwald remarks: “Well, he sure grew up fast. Long may King Sigmar live!”

Simon Birchenwald frowns upon hearing the news. “What? How did this happen to the King, of all people?”

Sure.

My discord is uniquename.yx.

The wall melts, submerging anything below 75y. The races are forced to move onto the surviving land masses, and live in very close proximity. Also, some kind of dragon/lich/demonspawn comes from behind the wall and tries to eat/murder/disembowel everyone.

(I have no idea what Constantinople is, other than another name for Istanbul. This is just a random guess.)

"H- O- U- S- E- R- U- T- H- E- R N- House Ruhtheirn? What kind of name is that?"  Simon would say, attempting to read the book he stole borrowed. He hastily returns it and then runs off, probably to explore that weird collapsed building near the citadel.

Whoops.

I suggest that there be a command to hide specific ooc channels. For example:

/hide ooc

/hide trade

/hide help

Et cetera.

This could help players who wish to roleplay without seeing a random ooc message every five seconds.

yeah

I’m new, and the first thing I noticed about this server besides how awesome the builds are was that some people in the ooc chats are very toxic. They make triggered 4channers look tame in comparison.

nooooooooo

why did I choose to join after this was removed?!

I WANNA BREW SOME BEER, MINECRAFT!

Such stylish coats!

If you ever come back, you might want to change up Rose’s backstory a bit; I’m getting some serious Victim Sue vibes.  It isn’t very realistic for everyone she meets to either abuse her or die.