DragonofTaters

A small form crouched on an island. Clear water bubbles quietly, coursing over rocks before cascading down cliffs to meet a larger river. Fireflies danced through the crisp night air; cicadas and crickets filled the night with buzzing song. Moonlight turned green moss to silver, dew drops catching the light. Pearls from the heavens, until morning tide would make them burn gold before fading. Stones studded the landscape. Some tucked away under towering trees, some gathered along the banks of the water, some standing out in the middle of the field. Names, epithets, and memory carved by careful hands and time. All that was left of those beloved and hated alike. A new stone stood now. A new name carved and offerings left. She did not go there. Did not stand near the name of a sister she hardly knew. Hardly had the chance to know. Rather the child retreated; across the water, to the edge of the Fae Ring. Ethereal creatures - other worldly and yet the most trusted companions - guiding her across. Wisps lighting her path across slick stones, naiads and nixes offering shy greeting from the water. Little sprites darted to and fro. Faeries, family, friends to the child. Those that had filled her life and prevented loneliness. How could a Faerie destroy that which she loved? They had been the ones to befriend her, comfort her, teach her in moments of quiet. A twisted, selfish creature, stealing her sister before the child ever had a chance to know her. Never truly able to trust that who she spoke to was Xilvyre and not the Truespring. How could a Faerie do such a thing? Be such a thing? Her friends, her family, those who guided her ever outside the watchful eyes of her elven kin. Bare feet damp from the ground, she stared into the Fae Ring. Told to never cross, never enter, she stood poised to do just that. In her hands a small bear; plush, hand crafted from fabric and plant matter by tiny, patient hands. Blessed by her father to maintain warmth and life in the blossoms which decorated it. A gift, for that lost sister. A gift which said what the child never got the chance to. Carefully woven chains of ambrosia, forget-me-nots, and white clover. “Do not forget me. Remember me. Return to me. I love you.” A plea and a promise. Meant to ground the other when the twisted Fae took over. Now, abandoned in death. The child stood alone. There was no Faerie to comfort her. No sister to hold her. No mother to guide her. No father to save her. Love lost to lies. Trust broken by truth. Hope shattered in death. ~*~ When golden rays broke over the horizon, turning silver threads to flame, mist hung across the land. The small isle now silent, still. Abandoned. The only sign of the child footprints left in the dew soaked ground. In the center of the Ring lay the bear. Its heart, warm still; kindlefen eternally warm in its chest. A promise left, where perhaps the memory of a sister might see it… and remember.

Quiet. Something the youth usually found welcome. A moment to think, to tune himself to the world around. Stillness in the garden, where only the wind and small creatures disturbed the space. Silence in the upper reaches of the tower; on the pinnacle, where it was just him and the open skies. Now it was oppressive. Horrific. The stillness of everything being wrong. Blood soaked the forest pathway. Birds and rodents, the little wild things which always made the fief feel alive now absent. Gate lowered, doors locked. Movement restricted within the towering walls. A hush of fear, panic, and grief sweeping across Angrenost. It was the quiet which followed Elerrion's declaration and final act which seemed to follow him. Muffle every sound. His mother's voice held little to no inflection. Aunt brought to stillness, a weariness to her he'd never witnessed before. His own body wracked with pain, even after every treatment and surgery meant to make him whole again. Activity brought to a standstill, forced to do nothing. To sit. To think. To be quiet. A sacrifice made; on behalf of him, his family, his home. A life given up, to bring light where darkness sought to take hold. A Templar, noble and true, and a Knight of Old, those his mother spoke of... Lost. How was he to repay that debt he'd incurred? An impossible idea, for no payment would ever equal Ser Elerrion's life. He sat in silence, stillness, looking at water as it rippled. Alchemical mixtures meant to heal his body faster. Allow him to return to the life he'd known before. But that could never be. The boy had born witness to the last moments of Ser Elerrion Seregon. The first death of a Templar he'd ever seen, and one which could never be forgotten. Burned into memory and spirit alike. All that was left for the boy was to try, try to learn and exhibit the same qualities he saw in that man who gave his life for Arathorn. ~*~ A 'Fenn stood overlooking the cliffs of Idunia's shores. Muscles tense, jaw clenched as tightly as the fists balled at her sides. Singular eye glaring out at the world as if in challenge. News of Elerrion's demise had been delivered. The rage which immediately surfaced old, ugly, and primal. Something buried in the depths of the Sea Witch's soul. Not seen since Arcas. Not given place to be acted upon in nearly three and a half centuries. Now a friend had been ripped from her. The man who had never judged. Never sought anything from her save friendship; not for what it offered him, but because he genuinely wanted to support her, to share companionship and camaraderie. A soul as old as her own, who understood the path she had walked and why. Stolen. Some would say given, some would say sacrificed. But she knew it for what it was. The spawn of the abyss and the hells, stealing that which they could. For they hated the Light, they despised the Noble, and they loathed the True. Elerrion, many things through many lifetimes, but those three, always. A man with the strength of will and integrity to turn away from temptation and walk the path she abandoned. A rumble in the distance; thunder rolling over open waves as lightning crackled in the sky. Dark clouds hung low, a sheet of rain moving rapidly towards land. The storm approached, and the 'Fenn stood to meet it head on. It matched the roiling emotion in her soul, the burgeoning fury and wrath of the seas. Cursed by the Siren, or blessed by her hand; the Sea Witch would argue both. Her eyes darkened, the abyssal waters into which she'd delved rising within her being. Taking firm hold and consuming the gentleness which one might have once found within her. The tides cannot be stilled, nor waves made to cease. Embracing that, the Thrice-Cursed Witch turned. A name had been given. A target set. Death, or annihilation, would be the only end. "The ocean's fury whispers secrets to the shore, reminding us that some moments are too powerful to be forgotten, only felt." - Omatee Hansraj

A letter would make its way to the Tari. Unsigned, written in strange ichor. A deep blue-grey hue, smelling of brine rather than copper. ”Bolomormaa. Her name is Bolomormaa. And she will rise again.”

Would it be possible for Bardmancers to also create these? As there is a section about them being able to appear as a musical instrument, and bardmancers pull upon the same power as a housemage does...

You're out here trying to make me feel old again, Adele... Very nice to see a proper revamping to the Tathvir family. Been far too long, and it's good to see it in fresh hands. My old grumpy lady will come around to annoy and grumble at her younger cousins sometimes :p

A scoff left the lips of a 'Fenn. Parchment discarded, to be devoured by crackling flame. "Discord. He speaks as though he is superior. Different. All druids are the same. Useless, broken, and lost in their own self-loathing. Heads so far up their asses they can't take two seconds to act together..." She paced down the roads, across trails, clambered carefully down rocks. To find answers and kinship not amongst elves, nor amongst druids. The sea and the tides to embrace her. A call of the depths, of a daemon far older than any of those the Servants of Nature followed beckoning her. The Spore might serve the Oak in his madness. It was the Siren who cradled and guided the Kraken...

Armor weighed heavily upon her. Plate, never before worn, hundreds of years and this was the first armor of this nature that had been donned. Upon the mountainside, the 'Fenn stood against an onslaught of roots and branches. A mission to be completed, though the details were not known. Conversation was low, largely conducted through singing threads that barely graced the 'Fenn's senses. An exchange, quick and heated, between the elders she defended and whatever twisted soul dwelled within the accursed tree. Or so she thought... Then a name was spoken aloud. One name. Nedai. Familiar, familial. A man she had known; a man whose niece she had saved. One she respected, and would dare even refer to as a friend in conversation. Wood split and pain echoed amidst rage as attacks landed. As the grasping of elders sought to tear that man's soul from the mortal realm. The weight of the Blightsteel she held seemed to double. Her armor constrictive, crushing down upon her. A charge she'd been given, and defend those behind her she would. Blade lifting to beat back one branch, then plunging to drive away a root. It couldn't be true. It must not be true. In the silence that followed, with cold wind echoing down the mountainside, truth weighed heavy. No stranger to half truths or manipulations. Experienced in usery and deceit. The man was dead. Her friend was dead. Through lies, through trickery. Voices around her claimed it was a deserved end; that the man was 'draoi'. He'd helped attack her home, bring harm to her family. Claims, so many claims. But no physical proof, one way or another. Stories, and hopes only. Hope that the right decision had been made that night. Others departed discreetly, scattering down the mountain. Rain began to pour down, thunder rolling in the distance. The sea called to her. The leviathans of the deep beckoning the wayward soul. Too far had she wandered, snakes of the land pulling her far from the safety of the sea's abyssal depths. Weight and memory pressed down upon her. Rage and disgust at her own weakness battled the desperate need for those who brought her to be right. A choice unable to be unmade, now to haunt her for the rest of her days... ~*~ Within the realm of the Aspects, spirits and Fae moved about freely. Life moving in a never ending cycle. Harmony found even in moments of pain and loss. Everything balanced. One spirit walked alone, drawing away from companions. Turmoil since their own parting twisting the soul. Love and hate in constant battle, duty and compassion arguing ever onward. Conversations had been had, anger vented, but still, love would not turn fully away from those she'd been told to blame. Then nature stilled, and songs went quiet. A heaviness passing over everything. A sound she'd come to learn meant the return of a soul to this place. Turning, she sought them out. Trekking across strange landscapes, passing alien creatures until she found the cause: a familiar form, a 'Ker she'd known since his youth. Freezing, choice being weighed. An eternity before them... Long before, she had made an admittance. She could never harm her children, or her family. She could never hate them. And whatever else he was, Nedai was family. Nenar moved forward, a hand offered. An embrace next, if he allowed. Love would always burn brighter than hate.

As an old player who had to CRP with the soul tree itself many times, please specify how many of the tree's limbs the player is allowed to have in play at once. Whether that be limited to 2, or if they can control more than that simultaneously. This was always a problematic part of CRP in this regard, as no limit was given in the lore. That being said, very much like this vibe you've got going. Enjoy the switch up to it being a Fae-bound being and having a funny connection to the different realms.

Fooldude, if you want to be pissed at someone then point the finger at me. I had your sapling and didn’t interact with it in the past month (just shy a couple days when Nen died. Omni wasn’t when I thought). I didn’t stash it inside my shifting grotto, fae ring, nor did I make my ogham stone ring which would’ve been a third lore structure the saplings could’ve fed off of. I could’ve made a secret safe under my tree itself. I didn’t think to do it because no one had ever said I needed to. St and soul trees I’d asked previously said stashing it in a box was fine, and carrying it soulbound murder because ‘what’s on you mechanically is on you rply’. I took those rulings from my past experiences at face value. I accepted them and went by them. When asked about it by other tree lord players or Druids, that’s what I shared. I was wrong. Didn’t know it, but I was. Druids have a nasty habit of falling into a sense of security about our lore and redlines. Taking old players (hi that’s me now) at face value instead of asking staff. You knew how janky soul tree lore was. You started rewriting it before you ever got it because it was so bad. Yet you wanted it. You asked for it. I did warn you oocly Nen was a walking target. You decided Illivira was still safer than elsewhere cause you feared Kurai Kuni more than Nenar’s enemies. Looking around trying to accuse people of schemes against you is way out of line. Using a screenshot I gave you 2 minutes after messaging Pallo to show you I had done what you asked me to as proof that he ‘didn’t respond’ is wild. Accusing Tav of conspiring because the guy likes to shitpost is insane when you do the exact same thing. I know you commented on Cryptid’s app. I know you’ve commented on the apps of other students I’ve picked up. You can’t go around accusing everyone but those you call friends of having it out for you. I guarantee you, most people on this server couldn’t give a shit about most other folks. And the ones who do have beef aren’t conspiring, they’re just waiting for forum wars to jump in on. That’s as far as that goes. You have spent months in my dms talking about how one group or another is out to get you, me, the Druid community, etc. Your fears on that are founded only in pure paranoia and happenstance. Taking any little instance of action against your character or those of your friends to back up those claims is taking it to an extreme. This is an rp server. RP is based on storytelling. Stories survive and thrive off conflict in one manner or another. You will drive yourself crazy if you keep this up. More than that, you’re going to alienate everyone around you. People don’t have it out for you. But if you keep making wild accusations and throwing hate left and right, you’re going to end up making them hate you. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy, my guy. You need to stop. For your sake, for the sake of your friendships, and if you want to be able to have healthy interaction with the server and roleplay. Eli, Raider, and their gang of rp hooligans were nothing but pleasant and patient with me during and after all that rp. Yes there were some moments that brought questions up, but at the end of the day they explained everything they’d done and we are chill. I enjoyed (as much as one can) the rp they afforded me. For a character like Nenar, that was just about as good an ending as I could’ve asked for her, story wise. I’ve had no issues with what happened until now. And even if that malflame call had gone my way, Nen would still be dead. Because my sapling was with Sasha’s. So no issues for me. Until choices I made, and beliefs I held, got three characters I loved killed. 3 people I call friends and only want to see having a good time upset and hurt. Could the st have chosen to be lenient and warned folks rather than forced a pk? Yeah. The ‘bad guys’ werent gunning for more blood. They got what they wanted from Nen’s death. But that decision was with management not the attackers. And they chose to draw a hard line. Hard, but in some ways very needed. We as a playerbase need to take accountability for our lore, our rp, and the lack of effort we put into certain areas of it. The ST here chose a wake up call for us. A harsh one, yes. But a necessary one. I can guarantee you this won’t happen again now. They’re not the bad guys. I made your tree. I made all of your trees. I made that grotto, and designed the areas. I made the call not to act on ooc knowledge to change my layout and prevent people entering, because my character wouldn’t know it. And she wouldn’t change her home without knowing. I made the call to put your sapling where I did. And I made the choice to not return to it as frequently as I should have. If you’re going to throw hate and anger, throw it where it belongs. All that said and done, I am sorry. To you, to Cryptid, to Nero, Delmo, and Alex. For the stress you’ve had to deal with. For the frozen rp and complications. I’m sorry for the characters you’ve lost through my negligence and my choices. I am sorry to the Illivira community, for the stress and heartache. The Druids as well. The staff, for having to try and deal with this shitshow. And Tav, for all the crap he has gotten and continues to get just because he rps an ******* and makes comments oocly that everyone else makes too. Y’all need to lay off him. He’s not the supreme source of evil. He’s just a guy, and literally every single one of us is just as capable of being an ******* as he is. Can guarantee he’s got more than enough reasons to shit on all of us, including myself.

So this has become a thing. I’ve got work in two hours so I’m just writing one thing. I hold no ill will towards the villains who came to get my character. I hold no ill will towards the staff who had to make calls on the fly while handling a massive CRP situation spanning 30+ players over the entirety of the village. Tree Lord is an extremely broken CA, the lore horrifically written, and the common assumptions held by the community for years going uncorrected or clarified until situations of intense, volatile conflict. Last time I witnessed this it was with the Azdrazi coming to try and pk several Tree Lords. The Tree Lords were trying to metagame and loophole their broken lore to avoid it. At the time, no trees held a sapling. They had some excuse for not taking them, but end of the day they just assumed they could refuse to do the interactions. Very bad faith rp on their part. ST at the time gave them grace for reasons unknown to me. Allowed them to grab saplings before adjusting redlines and adding this now infamous ‘Freeze Clause’. Now, they were all allowed that in spite of their blatant bad faith. No forced pks occurred. This situation, despite stemming from a similar villainy arc and poorly written redlines has the players in question being punished without any grace period for correction. It sucks for the players. It sucks that there’s inconsistency with how things are being ruled in a situation where folks were trying to be in good faith on both sides. I haven’t got answers for why the st made one call in favor of bad faith whining Druids back in the day and why now it feels the opposite. That was a different team, and different times. They had their reasons, which I’m sure pissed off the azdrazi at the time. This team has its own reasons, and now it’s the Druids’ turn to be pissed because it didn’t swing our way. We as a community have said for years that our CA was trash yet did nothing to fix it. Calls get made, verdicts get passed, but we also have blatantly sat on terrible lore and just accepted it without truly trying to change anything; save for one attempt at a rewrite from MayRndz. I am truly sorry for the loss of everyone’s characters, especially due to a situation my Druid brought to the village and to people she turned into this CA. This was not something I expected or foresaw, and I do take accountability for not taking my own initiative in regards to clarifying issues with the CA I gave to others. There is a lot of bitterness being held due to all this. I know how much time and joy goes into these characters we’ve lost. I’m with you on that. I know how much it hurts when our friends are upset, frustrated, and leave due to problems. But fueling arguments and heated back and forths isn’t going to help anyone feel better here. We can keep throwing hate and accusations, or we can do what we should’ve done years ago and fix this lore.

Current: Call of the Eternal Guardians [NC] As the Realm of the Fae becomes more perilous from the misdeeds of those that disrespect Nature’s Blessing, a creation made by the Owl Druid for one of her students is re-imagined into a new ability that calls for those departed into a Fae Ring to converse with for a period of time. Yet with every gift given, there is always something to give in equal turn. And those that have found eternal peace may not always be kind when stirred from their place of rest. New: Call of the Eternal Guardians [NC] As the Realm of the Fae becomes more perilous from the misdeeds of those that disrespect Nature’s Blessing, a creation made by the Owl Druid for one of her students is re-imagined into a new ability that calls for those departed into a Fae Ring to converse with for a period of time. Yet with every gift given, there is always something to give in equal turn. And those that have found eternal peace may not always be kind when stirred from their place of rest. Explanation: Deceased druids [PK'd] are able to be summoned with this ability, and can have full conversations with whoever summoned them. They are able to be interacted with, but despite still maintaining their connection with the natural world and the Aspects (hence why they are in the Eternal Forest), there's no mechanic for them to leave a trace of their song in the mortal world even when summoned directly to it. This addition would change that. Allowing for dead druids to leave a small fragment behind. Encouraging others to seek them out for interactions, stories, and keepsakes that can keep the memory of those lost to time alive. Just figured this could be a fun little way to encourage folks to utilize the summoning spell we have available, and explore different avenues in achieving druidic relics and MArt creation besides the staple Awakened Staff MArt.

Always curious, what types of interactions, both ooc and ic, have led to the biggest impacts for you on this server? What draws you into the rp and keeps you returning? Also I can't believe it's been 7 years. You are making me feel old Rain!😢

Shadows lingered in the corner. The peripheral always dark. Danger lurking, yet never showing itself. Hatred and hunger, blood thirst and madness hidden behind twisted words, silver tongues, and fanged smiles. Still, the air was clear. A chill wind whistled across the mountains. Hair and clothes buffeted, crimson eyes were set to the horizon. Watching as leaves and detritus were swept up and across the rocky ledges. It blew towards the south, down the pass. Channeled through the crack in the mountains. Harsh gusts which suddenly cut off before a new one would kick off. Then it shifted once more. Moving downward, across the slope. Carrying the dried foliage with it. There could not be a message to be seen, for it was only wind. But the woman paused. Listening. To voices hidden in ever-changing threads. The tapestry of the world warping around her, ley lines visible to the Attuned's sharp gaze. Conflict, rushing towards her. Restlessness and distress. Loss. Everything she did not want; the conflict she had been seeking inaccessible, and that which she dreaded inescapable. Something approached for which she had no plan. How could any plan against Fate? Even she, woven into the very threads of Nature herself, could not stop the tides. A shadow passed overhead; the croak of a raven breaking her reverie. Then a call went out, to travel north. Her attention pulled from the shifting threads of Fate laid out before her which wove the woman's doom; threads trailing behind that distant avian. She followed her companions, putting the truth she'd seen to the back of her mind. Nothing was said to those beside her. ~*~ Across the world, Nature raged. Cursed blood twisted through roots and branches. Fell-spawn lurked, hulking forms casting shadows where sunlight normally warmed the soil. Hellfire and blood worked their way through the vibrant life. Draining everything. Grey and black replacing brilliant shades of emerald and cerulean; amber fading into a dusty brown. Trees sapped of their strength. Flowers wilted upon their stalks. Moss turning to a dead mat over silent earth. A lone Tree struggled. Still vibrant, crowned with gold. Roots pulling free, lashing out. But overwhelming force fueled by pure hatred could not be outdone. Blades of twisted metal fell. Anguish and rage echoed from within. The soul crying out. A betrayal was at hand. Promises broken, by minds twisted and hearts turned dark. Visible rot within the grotto mirroring the filth which had consumed those once seen as allies. As family. The burning voice rose within. Bashing itself against the ears of the draoi. ‘Traitors’, it shrieked. ‘Liars and oathbreakers’; ‘Fell-spawn, twisted ones, servants of the dark’, cries of disbelief, though the woman had known. She had known. Years she had spent, decrying them to others. Revealing the truth of their nature. It was her own foolishness which allowed them close. Admissions of hatred, of intention, made clear. Yet she chose to forgive. To seek understanding. Allowed them into her home. Her sanctum. So afraid to lose that she was blind to the Fate woven by her own hands. Broken love, desperately clung to; shattered trust trickling through fingers. All of it culminating here. Flaming crown bent as the trunk moved. Branches sent a shower of gold to the dead earth below. Hellfire skirted across the pale surface. Latching on, siphoning the life from the soul encased. Wisps of lies, of treachery, made contact. The aura of a false druid finding its own purchase upon the Aspen. Leeching the living connection formed between soul and Forest. The Tree shook, freezing. Pain, panic, crippling it. A choice. The final choice. To resist, or surrender. Unyielding, but not unending. Damned she would be, whatever path was taken. ~*~ Nenar. Wicker. Aspen. Red. Mentor. Teacher. Guide. Arch-druid. Hierophant. Grandma. Auntie. Mother. Daughter. Unbroken. Undying. Sister. Names raced through her mind. Coursing along threads of Fate, carried through centuries by a woman who refused to stand down. To be still. Natural disasters, lost homes, wars, calamity after calamity. Heartbreak compounding time after time. Fae, fiend, friend, and foe alike seeking her destruction. Her despair and surrender to true darkness and hatred. Identity morphing, fracturing, splitting under pressure. Names and titles bestowed but rarely owned. Death comes for all. For so many centuries, the druid had walked hand in hand with Death. Chased but never captured. Escaping when she should not have been able. Stolen by kin, the very kin now here seeking her undoing, the one time she walked towards Death’s waiting embrace. Bound to the mortal plane, inextricably interwoven with Nature herself. Balking at times, embracing that fate at others. Surrounded by life, family, friendship. Assured and cared for in the darkest of moments. Faithless sought to sunder her. To steal her from family, from life, from Death. To destroy every bond formed, every thread carefully woven within her being. They reacted with violence to a promise held firm. Leaving the woman with few options. Face utter annihilation, or allow herself to surrender to a call which had beckoned far too long. Fight 'til there was nothing left, or embrace Death and darkness, mutation and enslavement. They sought to steal, to capture, to contain. The druid would not give them the satisfaction. One last act of defiance. One last choice, made of her own will. The Aspen Tree shuddered as sickly hellfire consumed parts of the soul within. Blight coursing through veins, carried by sap slowed by toxins. Axe buried to the handle, splitting wood which was never meant to break. Ethereal knives pulling, tearing, at the deific connection tethering the soul. Ripping free of it all, Nenar Terin, the Wicker Druid, sent a violent blow through the entirety of the Tree. A crack echoed through the grotto. Pain-filled melodies mixing with a rebellious, wrathful hiss. The golden tree splintered straight down the center. Branches falling to the left and right. Crashing to the ground as the Druid herself sundered the vessel. The Aspen shattered. Soul released, wrenched from the grasp of the evil, the deranged, the draoi. And though Nature made her anguish known, something was finally set right. After four hundred and twenty-six years, Death had her due. ~*~ No letters would make their way across the realm. That was not the Aspen’s way. Hidden away inside a rocky hollow, a crumpled paper could be found. Written in blood, crimson and amber appearing akin to crystallized flame on the parchment. OOC Note: The below letter would be available to those entrusted by Nenar with her private space. Her close family and friends, welcomed into her grotto.

Thank you for being clear and concise. Glad to hear about the new CT Admin.

I would like to know, since you admit you have not been present and left your managers to run things on their own, how you yourself are not simply 'keeping the lights on' and therefore why you are still Admin? If you do not have the time to do the job, you do not have the time to do the job. Xarkly, Spoopy, and the others have been doing the job. They've been doing it very well, with the limitations they have had. Yet you remove them without warning, without explanation, why? Stating you need fresh eyes, fresh minds, and people who want to promote active change and growth. Yet you yourself are actively impeding said growth, ignoring the team, and not engaging with the server or the team. Do not remove people for 'doing the bare minimum' when you yourself are incapable of such and have been for months.