MrMojoMordor

Greetings, fellow Petrans and The Chancellery. I, Pelym-Vagil Rivers would like to officially apologize for the state i appeared in to the Debate. I assure you that such occurrences are rare and NOT the norm and that the unconscious woman i was carrying with me, is safe and well. I would also like to official apologize to The Members of The Chancellery and The Noble Houses of Von Theonus, Halcourt and Adilers for my words and grossly misrepresenting them and the work they do. However, I WILL stand by my statements about the injustices committed by The Church and Numendil. PLEASE don't vote for me because it's funny, but seriously consider ALL the candidates to choose does who represent YOUR views the best. -signed by Pelym-Vagil Rivers.

Pelym-Vagil Rivers groans as he wakes up on the wooden floor of a random barracks room finding himself in a pile of drinks, fish bait and ruined documents - his head pounding from the 12h long date he was on, barely remembering anything. He sit's up pulling a few seaweeds out of his hair, noticing the passed out woman he was carrying to Petra is gone and let's out a sigh. Grabbing the neatly placed transcript on the bed, the short man reads through it - another groan gracing the quiet barracks as the hungover Captain of The RiverGuard's dies inside a little. "Yam niet.. gonna take off mea helmet.. for awhile.."

Username: LordMJO Persona Name: Pelym-Vagil Rivers Persona Age: 25 Place of Residence / Street Address: Godric Road II

The short Lieutenant laughs, a PETRAN SMILE plastered on his face: "It seems ve letter passed through - or perhaps it was ve General who went to talk with them?" He shakes his head, hunching over his unfinished document "Well, maybe there will nie be need for a Patrol this time..."

I feel like this will make Bandit RPers just 'raid' at times when there are not a lot of people online with smaller groups and do so multiple times because no cooldown, locking folk into CRP so that even if anyone does come online - they can't help and leaving with all the loot. It sucks that people dislike bandit rp so much that they need to be given handicaps like the recent CRP change - i'd rather get robbed and raided in a way that feels less underhanded than watch someone get bonked as a guard because i arrived 2 min late to the CRP lock, unable to help.

Pelym-Vagil Rivers nods, chuckling to himself quietly. He places his 15 Aurum barbed bolts neatly in line, placing the 16th of them onto his Ironwood crossbow with magnesium grooving - it snapping in place. He looks out his window up at the monastery right next to his house, lining up a shot.

Pelym-Vagil Rivers reads through the new edict and chuckles to himself: "Ea got ve Riverguard ladder climbing down, it's time to climb a new auwn! THIS will surely bring all ve ladies in mea yard!"

IGN -LordMJOPersona Name - Pelym-Vagil RiversItem - Silver Elven CrossbowBid -120

The CRP rules need some work. I stumbled upon some CRP. Being a guard i wanted to jump in and help the citizens, but due to the new rules i couldn't intervene, because it was already locked. So i just watched two people get bonked, their souls sucked out and the two 'criminals' went poof(because spooks powers) with the two people waking up from the attack. So i guess for my character, somehow, absoloutly nothing happened :) and that really annoyed me. I UNDERSTAND why the new rules are in-place - to stop CRP becoming too crowded/ooc-rallying, but this was literally a crime being commited in the middle of the street without ANY consequences. Either make the 'locked' timer longer(though people will just lie about it then) or put a cap on how many people can take part of non-event CRP. Cap could be like 8 people max, or depends on active combatants. For example: in a 2v2, only one or two more can join to keep it somewhat equal. (edit: If a close one or if you're a guard and a citizen is being attacked, you should be able to join. It would make no sense for them to not try and stop it.) TL;DR: These new rules take out some danger/unpredictability of CRP and gives murder hobos and villain RPers a hard-on, because they can just murder someone in the middle of the street and then ****-off without consequences.

I mean, don't Orcs refeer to most races as 'pinkeh', while getting called 'green-skin' and i've seen Delves call others 'whities'. Skin colour based racism is quite common it seems ((Unless it's wood elves and farfolk, too close to IRL ig?)) and who knows what the High Elves been cooking up in Haelun'or. Not to mention, isn't midget also considered a slur IRL now days? Personally, i don't really care as long as it stays IRP and not OOC. I've seen WAY more homophobia on LotC than racism. Sure there's a better way to play bigoted character, there always is and skin colour based insults are a bit basic. Even IRL racist are more creative and subtle now days. Just call the Delves Iblees foot worshippers and Dwarves beards fake or shoot them and say 'sorry i thought you were a weird rabbit.' But if you wanna go off on Delf skin colour - just call them dusty(old) or a blueberry(they are alot of purple ones) more accurate anyway and no one's feelings get hurt. ((eng not first language so mb for grammar))

Pelym-Vagil Rivers picks up the quill and signs under all the names that came before his.

Gr'ogg smort. Gr'ogg kno mâgh tingz. Bawt sumtimes Oomanz, Sharp Eerz anh Stumpez dun kno dat Gr'ogg kno tingz. Even thoo, Gr'ogg hit izi heed against rokk everydee to make heed bigga to have more tingz in heed. Todee, Gr'ogg go to da drink place wit fren. Sharp eer give Gr'ogg "random shit". Even when Gr'ogg ask the barmadden why izi give Gr'ogg shit, barmadden sayz itz not. Fren drink and say it iz good. Bawt Gr'ogg kno. It iz shit. Even if it taste good. Ten a tinman walk in. Tinman haz da metal rot. Sharp eer start rubbin' tinman with cloth. Bawt Gr'ogg kno. Das not how lit get rid of da metal rot. Mi 'unger brotah Mr'ogg call Gr'ogg "Mr.Cleanz". Gr'ogg gave izi a contuc.. a compuct.. very stronk metizin. Heel Mr'oggz eyez. Bawt Mr'ogg deed of wormz. Gr'ogg brotah dum-dum. So Gr'ogg go do magik behind da drinking place. Gr'ogg full of magik from drinking da shitz. Ahn Gr'ogg bring bakk da (this part is scrubbed off) magik sand izi made. Tinman not want magik sand karuz Sharp eer had "whiped" the metal rot off. Den Sharp eer bring more shit. Sayz itz "oil". Wants Gr'ogg to rub da tinman moor. Bawt Gr'ogg kno. Das diraehha. Gr'ogg 'unger sistah Vr'ogg had da diraehha. Izi not eat da frutes even when Gr'ogg tell izi to. Zo Gr'ogg give izi da ripe onez. Bawt Gr'ogg sistah ate too late for it da work. Izi deed of da shitz. Gr'ogg sistah dum-dum. Gr'ogg dun wanna insult da estapi.. estembi.. da drink place. Zo Gr'ogg do haz da barmadden sayz. Then tinman lost memory. Sayz someting about "cellz". Bawt Gr'ogg kno. Sharp eer poizon da tin man becuz izi wit child in da tummy ahn not stable. Gr'ogg even give da tinman a name. Lil'Tin. Bawt izi forget dat too. Goodbye Lil'Tin.

General Info Name : Egil Marchande of House Sauvageot Titles : The Silver-Tongued, Owner of the Black-Arrow Tavern, Jolly Diplomat. Age : 22 Date of Birth : 7th Sun’s smile 1672 Status : Alive Current Affiliations : Principality of Rosenyr Previous Affiliations : Kingdom Of Nordengrad Gender : Male Race : Heartlander Sexuality : Heterosexual Languages : Common Alignment : Neutral Good Appearance Height : 5’11 Weight : 163 lbs Eye Color : Emerald green Skin Color : White Hair Color : Blonde Markings/Tattoos : Burn scars lower left abdomen, Tattoo of a Black arrow right arm inside.

Why.. the hell am I there lol? Ik that Egil(me) is charming but damn ? Kinda flattered now.

* A note is put on local notice boards* I am a traveling troubadour named Egil. I offer entertainment to does willing to pay. List of Entertainments: * Musical acts with a lute *Juggeling of any item *Stories from lands near and far *Pleasant conversation requests can be made but will cost extra Price ranges form 100 to 500 minas, depending on the length of the session and requests made. Price is negotiable. Egil, The Silver-Tongued *There is plenty of room for requests on the note*

[OOC: This is a comedic, kinda meta, diary-form story of Egil, The Silver-Tongued - a young, hot-blooded and totally-not-desperate-for-attention 21 years old troubadour(bard). Excuse my odd grammar and mistakes. English is my 3rd language] 13th of The Grand Harvest, 1689 I woke up in a temple, miraculously without a hangover from last night's partying. Instead I felt oddly fresh, like a newborn. I stood up and wandered towards the only exit I could see, looking around curiously, feeling as if things seemed a bit more.. square. As my feet took me closer to the doorway of the Temple, the sweet scent of adventure, of maiden's bosoms yet untouched and ale yet to be tasted filled my nose, urging me on! To make haste, before they are claimed and shackled into boring books and senile old minds. Stepping outside, I was greeted by a few monks who seemed to repeat the same one or two lines of wisdom, probably not paying much attention whom they spoke to. There were a few other non-monks like myself wandering around the temple, each more colourful than than the next, browsing things, chatting up or just awkwardly looking at the ground or the sky. After receiving an odd cristal like ornament from one of the monks, I decided to sit and ponder about my situation, checking and tuning my lute. Until, Goddess herself walked into my view from the temple. Her brown hair flowed in the slight breeze like water flows in a river, the sun gently dancing on each of her hair. Her eyes were like the biggest shiny gems, deep green - like woods one could get lost in for weeks. Her nose was small and cute, her lips plump and rose coloured. The way she carried herself down the stairs with such elegant manner was nothing more, but an act to marvel at. A mini-miracle! She stopped by one of the many bookshelves in the temple and seemed to look right at me. I of course approached the lady with bravado and confidence that one of my caliber should have and bowed to the lady, asking her name. To my surprise she stood still, peering past me into the distance. Like a sculpture too real and perfect to be man made. I tried to get the ladies attention yet again but to no avail. Thinking maybe a piece of music might make the beautiful, yet mysterious sculpture woman come back to life I played a short melody to her, my fingers dancing on the strings like elves in the rowdy tavern songs dance around the fire - elegant and wild at the same time. To my disappointment the lady did not react: deaf, blind and mute, still in the moment as the time around her passed. With a sigh I put away my lute and started to look for the next maiden to woo when I heard a kharajyr growl behind me:" oh is thwat a bawd?".