Eryane

i also agree i also agree

This is pretty hard for me because I haven’t been to a lot of staff story line events and I wish I would have done so more. I suppose I found it hard to seek the opportunity, unless it was a world-wide event like September Prince (which I did enjoy a lot). Otherwise, player-made events, I actually really enjoyed the Road to Karosgrad a few months back. It was something never done before: three monarchs being forced to travel by foot in rags to the Holy See. Other than that, and many will disagree with me on this, I enjoyed the Rubern War. It felt very high-anxiety high-intensity for someone who was in Haense because we legitimately had the chance of our community being absolutely screwed. It was cool to see the rp fallout of families being split in half and having to choose a side, etc. It’s a toss up between the original Carrion family when I played Milena Carrion with Lhindir as Ostromir and Axelu as Elisabeth (as well as JoanOfArc, Nectorist, Ivory, Soren, etc.) , or playing Valera Carrion with chumpchump as Ratibor before the start of the War of Two Emperors (with Esry, frankdh, Soren, Totalitarianism, etc.). Philip is waiting for Bakir in lotc heaven so I hear

Music played soundly in the background of the chatter of imperial courtiers in the de Rosius estate. Many young ladies - or debutantes as they called themselves - were dressed elegantly in white or other beautiful attire amidst the social season. The doors of the estate burst open. Guards of foreign attire were encircled around some smaller figure that couldn’t be seen. And when it was revealed by the shout of one particular guardsman, all huddled around him. “His Serene Highness, the Prince of Kusoraev!” Moliana and Anastasya stood by one another in subtle curiosity. “Cover me,” Moliana had said, and Anastasya did her best to do so as the girl behind her fired a button from her slingshot. Sigismund swung his head over in their direction. “Oh no,” the piously dressed child muttered. Yet the three would become acquaintances that night, not knowing what the world would one day bring them to be. A king. A mage. An empress; not knowing the pain they would cause one another as the time passed and they grew older; not truly knowing what affect they would have on the world around them. “God rest his soul,” muttered Empress Anastasia I from her own place of peace. “God rest King Sigismund III.”

i already have. the moment this was posted in our peace talks discord chat between myself, nectorist, and dwarven bros: CLEARLY Court Chef Hogo Bojo ahahahahaha... It's hard to decide because there's been so many wonderful people over the years that I've been lucky enough to meet, but two in particular (besides you of course Hogo) come to mind which is @ncarrand @Mannyy who made me feel like I had a place in the empire, even as new players themselves, when I felt pretty isolated. porque sí 1. This is a pretty tough question to answer, because I had a love-hate relationship with it. I loved being able to do something for my community, to help be a part of this sweeping change in Oren, but at the same time it was very draining. The first two weeks were especially hard, because some days I would stay up until 3am and work at 5am at the bakery. Balancing this, on top of college, on top of having a dog was genuinely so difficult. But, I loved seeing all the people in VCs again, I loved hearing everyone's creative ideas and seeing them being put into practice, these little bakeries and shops, or ideas in the court or how to fix the government. This is such a really fascinating game with so much creativity to explore. Nonetheless, we were bound to have hatred from the start because it was a revolution, but also because Oren as an empire is more often than not enemy #1 24/7. I do remember the death threats that Nectorist received throwing me through a loop for a long time, because I couldn't simply sweep it aside as "oh well" and laugh it off until I talked with friends of mine on the server, and got good advice on that. I wanted to drop being an NL right then and there and disappear, seeing as people would have the audacity to research our personal information to scare us. now i really don't care please try to threaten me i dare u Being an NL is quite literally like a part time job sometimes. Not only that, but there are some serious matters beyond the scope of the game that you have to deal with, because the internet isn't always the safest place as we all know. I wouldn't take it back though, and I don't regret any of my actions during my time as NL. It is a game at the end of the day and I had to remind myself of this a lot. I'm glad I could contribute so much to such a good group of players, and I hope Nectorist, myself, and all the others involved made this server's story a bit more interesting. No matter what we did, no matter what actions Nectorist and I made which may seem controversial, he and I always did it with the best interest of the community in mind while simultaneously creating a good story. 2. No, but I don't regret it either 3. ... this is confidential information. (1. joshbright 2. joshbright 3. joshbright 4. kazoo) i literally despise you

She is doing so well! Two days ago, she turned 1 year old and it's insane to see her grow up. She's probably one of the most well-trained dogs I've seen, given the work myself and my family has put in this past year. Super sweet and friendly to other animals too, as well as people. Here's a picture:

I had actually been RPing on another server for quite some time for the most part until 2016-2017, and only going onto LotC every now and then at the start. Most of the people who I had spoken to at the time online had always mentioned LotC as being this massive server so I wanted to try it out. I played with the Wood Elves first, then in Oren for sometime as a servant, but an old friend of mine named Kukiii got me to stick around on LotC more often in Courland (first as a handmaiden, then as a de Castro who became Queen of Norland) and with the Warhawkes. feels pretty powerful i used to say that being banned was on my checklist i didn't expect it to actually happen humans. But, to genuinely answer this question, after my few brief interactions directly in the discord and RPing in the city as well as my interactions as a nation leader throughout the war, it's almost hard for me to choose. Both communities offer really different atmospheres and different approaches to RP. A lot of human rp is more realistic, Game of Thrones-y and with a heavy focus on nobility and politics while the dwarves are much more fantasy based, relaxed and laid back to enjoy your time with friends going on adventures. You know, this is actually a pretty difficult question for me to answer because I surprisingly have learned a lot from being on this server over the years. I think the most valuable life lesson is to be confident in your actions once you have made them and to own your mistakes or the consequences that come alongside those choices that you have made. Another thing, because it's almost as equally important in my opinion, is that you should fully trust yourself and remember who you are individually. I've seen some really, really horrific things said about me over the years (especially in the past few months) that made me question who I was as a person, but at the end of the day I had to remember that I knew I wasn't what they were saying and it was useless to give them any time of day (if people really cared to give me feedback, and cared for my well-being, they would talk to me in a much more civil manner). we're already married... do you want to get married again?

bro...?

hello i have been around since athera and it's been long overdue that i post one of these so please feel free to ask me anything and everything

With a judgmental eye, Mathilde Cypriélle made certain that her daughter did not damage the dress or mess with it further as the seamstress did her work. “You must always look elegant, my child. You must be the shining star of the Stassion Court.” Her focus settled directly upon the working seamstress. “And you must make her look the part. Or you may pack your bags and never work for my precious daughters again.”

my best advice here is to reach out to people who are leaders in the community and speak to them (sorry if you have or whatnot, I honestly haven’t read all the comments). these big posts may change some, but in the end they usually just annoy people. I suppose if it helps you feel heard that also is important (but coming from from someone who was a leader reaching out personally and waiting for a response is the best). if they don’t reply to you, then go to a better community that is willing to respect you. trust me when I say it’s not just oren. I’ve been around so many different communities and stuff like this, the feeling of being blacklisted, seems to be a sentiment people feel in each community. I also experienced this, but the best you can do is talk to people, and if they don’t listen- move on. either way, you’re a good guy Matt and I hope you find a place to enjoy on this server. always thought you were a solid rper and fun to be around when we did interact

A few Orenians of the old empire watch on, Anastasia among them, from their souls’ resting place. “One day, he will understand,” she muttered to Philip.

Somewhere, in the seven skies or else, a woman watched on in turmoil over the divisions of her people, muttering words of ‘what was only necessity’ to her husband.

From the quiet lands of what was once the imperial circle of Aregnac many years ago, a young lady of Pruvia packs her embroidered bags. She gestured a few servants forth to pick up her packed things, and meanwhile sorted through a few bits of her jewelry to keep them untangled and organized. As the servants mingled amongst themselves, Mathilde Cypriélle overheard word of the newly reformed ministry under a Falstaff. Curious as to see all the change that had come to the capital city, given the dissolution of the empire and the formation of the kingdom in its place, Mathilde hurried along the servants and made her way for New Providence in a family carriage. She lifted her cat, Monique, into her arms, "It is time to finally see what has come of Orenia."

From the seven skies… Valera of Adria kept her daughter, Mariya Angelika, near — even if she was an adult and more than capable on her own amongst the deceased. She’d often ask questions of what her life was like, even if it had been tragic from the start. For all the years she had lost as a mother, she could make up for it now. And she would do the same with her childhood friend, Anabel, curious as to what it was like to have her reign as Queen … Maya Valeriya, Queen-Mother of Haense, rose a bottle of Carrion Black to her partner in crime, Mary Philippa, as she jested about their strange interactions with Peter III and Markus Kortrevich. She could see Princess Alexandria Ceciliya making snowforts in the distance … Irene of Metterden, finally to the seven skies, berated Princess Elizabeth for all the years she deemed her to be cursed … And Empress Anastasia I, wherever she was, watched on with pride as the woman her son chose to marry died with the same dignity and valor that she took the position of empress with. If anyone deserved the right to be the last, and final, empress-consort of the empire - it was Lucia Annunziata. Yet she knew what had come of the empire, what she and her husband decreed, was what was not only right, but necessary for the future of the Orenian people.

"Dunk a dwarf!" Célestine de Falstaff read as she was handed a flyer on the streets of New Providence, "Are they going to dunk you, brother?" @Chennster

SHE WHO SHALL NOT BE IDLE In a vast wave, those within the Savoyard throne room rose from their seats with cries of glory for humanity, for the empire. Peers of the regime turned as the echoes of Philip’s speech faded out in the high ceilings, and joined behind the aster-clad pair that stood in the midst of the room before the dais of Prince Olivier I. Friends of old and people of present gathered behind Anastasya and Philip as a collective, many with tears in their eyes. It had been enough for them all; enough of the declining empire, of the silenced voices and the muffled peoples. In each of their eyes she could see it then, the sheer power of hope. Her fingers laced around the cross that dangled from her neck, one cross that held a faint glow and shimmer from the aurum and its fine craftsmanship. She pulled the totem from her neck and plunged it into the air, crying out, “RALLY THE FAITHFUL!” “RALLY THE FAITHFUL!” “RALLY THE FAITHFUL!” “RALLY THE FAITHFUL!” And it reverberated across the hearts of the imperials who shouted it after her. This was the Aster Revolution, the movement which succeeded as a collective action amongst the majority of Orenians who had known it was enough; Orenians who knew that they should never be idle in the face of suppression. There once was a girl, dedicated to her faith for it was all she had known. Reading scripture was as much a pastime as playing games with the other children at the nunnery. One might have even remarked that she had much of the holy written word memorized, if they had known her. Yet she was the daughter of a princess and be it destiny or mere life, her time at the nunnery was coming to a close. With her veil tightly kept in place and a nun accompanying her travels home in the capital –if it could be called such with her estrangement to the city– she set out for the place where her life had begun. The people were as distant from her as she was to them. Frivolous dresses of lightly-shaded, extravagant colors were paraded about the imperial court she was now to be integrated within. They could barely understand her speech, perhaps as much as she could understand theirs. They all spoke better than her, while her words were broken and not of the highest literacy. She was ungraceful, ballet was better suited for a farm animal than herself. The scent of powder and makeup became suffocating and a hateful reminder that she was not welcome there, for her mother attempted to lather her in it so she might be amongst the rest. At every turn she found a way to separate from the quietness of her youth and into the outspokenness that became a wall of defense for her culture, traditions, and customs. She would not remove the veil from her hair, she would not wear lighter clothes, nor would she respect those who looked down upon her for her differences. Assimilation was her war, and each battle against it she found a way to win no matter the cost or lack of mannerisms displayed. For her mother, she was an embarrassment. For her father, he was amused by the actions of his daughter that caused a stir at court. It was arguable if there was any love there from him for his wife or his children. Home life was a topic better left away from the dinner table, for the memories of her parent’s horrendous marriage ran deep akin to scars. Yet her unruly nature caused many eyes to fall upon her as it did her equivalent in troublesome behavior, the prince to one day inherit the empire. Detestment between the two haughty children became friendship, which in turn became utmost confidentiality in one another. In time, this friendship and confidentiality was marriage and happiness. The spitting image of Julia, the emperor called her, upon the day of her wedding in which she became one with the imperial royal family. It was not love the two newlyweds held for one another, but the highest respect in their equal partnership. Together, one day, they would rule one of the oldest countries in the empire. Their names were praised for their controversial, immense reforms and ideas to shift the empire in a different direction than that of the rules of the recent rulers. The question of family, of children, hadn’t changed their views until the moment it came. What sort of life would their children have? And without a word save for a single letter to a childhood friend, they sailed off to distant lands of freedom. They raised their children on a private, secluded isle where they made their new home. Each year, they heard rumors of the nation they left behind from merchants who came and went. Each time, the news became grimer and grimer. Yet they were happy, they were free. The smiles of her children brought her a satisfaction that nothing else in life had done before. Motherhood was her greatest responsibility, no matter the trials and tribulations. It would have been a beautiful story to conclude the life of Anastasya of Kositz, where she would grow old and spend her life maintaining the isle of Nac’an with her children. Her father was proud of her now, although she never felt in all her life that he was. Her mother was satisfied, to see that she had taken her word of advice and not allowed the cruelties of royalty tear her down. She would have passed away in her elderly age, with no tension in her shoulders and no worries to wear her away. This would have been her future, until she received a letter from an old mentor written to her and Philip. It was a cry for help, a call to home – which Philip, swiftly, refused. Anastasya departed under a disguise, spending months watching the empire and its people, speaking to them, and at last meeting with her old friends who pleaded for change. A spark had been lit, and the flame was only growing. When she returned, Anastasya recited verses from the holy scripture as she had when she was a child and begged him to fulfill his birthright as was promised to him by God. Their people were suffering – how could they be so selfish as to enjoy their quaint lives, raising children whilst they had the chance to make a change? So they returned. Once, her mother wrote; Dearest Victoria, Childe, you know I was remiss upon hearing of your betrothal - I do not blame you for failing to tell your poor mother, however, given my reaction when I did learn of it. Please, though, think of your own future - with Philip, you shall be shackled by the bonds of my relatives - and I fear you shall find yourself damaged in the process. With This old, battered letter remained within view as she drafted up a letter to the one woman who spewed hatred more than any other the night that she met with all her friends and mentors of the past: Lady Mary of Carrington. This particular letter would never be shared with another living soul, not even her husband. Anastasya demanded the immediate assassination of Prince Philip Aurelian in the name of the revolution. Flashes of her time spent with her father-in-law came to mind. She could see his smile, she could see the love he bore for his children. She could see the father that she had always wanted, but never had, in him. Anastasya stared at the old, faded words of her mother. She stared at them for what must’ve been an hour, then sent off the letter. The little girl in her died that day, in place of a woman who cared not for the means that would go on to justify the end. One death, for the salvation of the empire. These were the sacrifices she must make so her husband could save the imperial realm from disaster. These were the sacrifices that she convinced herself were necessary in the name of the populace she loved; not the family she knew. They took the empire in a few mere months, with the support of the Principality of Savoy. Each decision she made that further separated her from Anastasya vas Ruthern and pushed her towards the Imperial Crown left her hollow, pained, yet stronger. The humiliation of the Petty Schism, of turning against the one institution that she had always trusted in because of the miscommunication of a spy (who had instead spotted the formulation of the coalition) brought her to a bitter state. Such was physically displayed across her face, with the burns that destroyed her youthful beauty and left her looking akin to a monster after a close assassination attempt. This destruction of herself, of who she was, was justified –in her mind– by the happiness and flourishing of imperial life around her. She could feel the empire come to life again, but she could also feel the chaos that she and her husband had sparked by returning to these lands. Were the costs worth it? She would watch her own children giggle and laugh in the palace gardens that weren’t built for her to remind herself of what she and Philip built. The Edict of Kositz marked the last remaining individualistic perspective she had to hold. Now, entirely, she was the Imperial Crown in name and law by decree of the emperor. Now, she reigned in her own right as Anastasia I, forever August. Each passing year of her reign alongside her co-monarch, Philip III, those around her could see her diminishing health. It was not physically that she faded away, but the deteriorating mental state of a woman who was destroyed by the guilt of her own actions. The blood of those who she had indirectly, or directly, sent to their graves kept her awake at night and drew bags beneath her eyes. Each strand of gray hair that came too early was another execution that she gave order to, or seen through herself. The girl who was once praised as to potentially be monikered the pious during her tenure turned into the woman known in history to be the ruthless and twice excommunicated. In spite of the toils that went on in her mind and those lost around her, there had been one remaining pillar that had stood at her side throughout it all; throughout every earth-shattering moment, to her firstborn child’s cry, to the coronation, to the humiliation walks of penance, and to the battlefield where they both were left bloodied. Philip. She had lived more of her life with him always at her flank, and now he was gone. The wind’s howls were empty now. Her heartbeat was unusual now, her breath short and lightheadedness overwhelmed her. Nausea consumed the nothingness of her stomach, then pressure and pain. Anastasia I crumbled to the ground; The sands were gentle beneath her as she stepped out onto the beaches of the isle of Nac’an. A red-headed girl laughed so loud it echoed beyond, and water splashed beneath her small feet. “Papa! Papa! Look at what I found!” Catherine rushed up to the smiling man, who knelt down to her height. Philip’s smile seemed to only grow as he looked at Anastasya and beckoned her closer. She, too, dug her knees into the sand – careless of its effect on her attire. The little girl held out her small hands to present a seashell, which Philip held close to his heart. “I’ll never be happier than I am here with you, Katyushka,” Anastasya muttered as she brought Catherine into her embrace and rested a hand on the back of her head. It may not have been Nac’an, yet Philip was at her side. Some of her children were there: Frederick, Anna, and Victoria. She saw the last life drain from him, and felt the rest of hers go too. “My son,” Anastasia croaked out as she reached out a weak arm. “Yes, mother?” The empress reached for her son’s hand and clutched onto it with the remaining strength she had. “Finish what we started. This empire… The eighth empire was molded by the candid men of yore, and now you must be the sword that gives it strength.” There were no tears in her eyes, no fear of death. She pressed a worn paper into his hand and whispered, “Change the world,” and released her last breath. Did she regret all that she had done? Would she have taken it back to be who she truly was? Would she have taken the penance offered to her, to reconcile with the Church she so dearly loved or to pray until she stopped washing her hands of the invisible, unfading blood of the innocents? Of the family members burned, of the friends lost? No. She would have done it again, and again, for her empire. These were the last thoughts of Empress Anastasia I before she passed away on the coast of Mardon.

No matter the harsh relations held between Anastasia and the Holy Mother Church, hearing the news of her venerated son-in-law made her smile. His loyal dedication to the empire - and to his faith (with the new pontiff) was admirable, and even she could not deny that.

Vladyslava can also be heard screaming in horror throughout Providence square.

Her son in law; The news came in the night, as a courier knocked on the door leading into the imperial quarters of the Emperor and Empress. Whilst Philip slept on his side of their quarters, Anastasia rose from her own bed and opened the door in her half-awake consciousness. Slumber was not easy for those with a tormented mind, this she knew well. The black-clad courier held out a letter, which she took and muttered nonsense as she waved him off. He bowed, she closed the door, and then there was silence other than the slowly fading echo of his footsteps. Philip still slept when she glanced over her shoulder, then down to the sealed letter. There were many letters piling up from the day, yet she clutched onto this late notice in particular for some time - until she opened it, and scanned its contents. Her hands trembled as she read it again and again. A numbness had taken to her, some form of possession with anger. As her mind drifted away and her thoughts became a blurry and mix of nonsense in her grief, screams of sheer horror and pain were heard echoing from the imperial apartments until the aging empress could be calmed: this would not come for hours. OOC:

Empress Anastasia, a die-hard Count Fyodor Carrion fan, waves her Carrion-Tuvyic banner as she sees the missive about a free company led by him. “LET’S GO!”