SimplySeo

In the Barrowlands not too far east of Krugmar, an Adunian Warlord looks west curiously as he reads the Orcish declaration. "Interesting, the last fellow seemed fervently against corruption- Can't make up their mind that lot, can they?"

ur post is very colorful

Democracy is inherently evil and players must learn to accept their feudal obligations. The Magna Carta is one of the most disastrous events of human history, advocating for constitutionalism is advocating against your liege-lord and anyone who does that deserves to be put up against a wall and shot (in minecraft). Urguan elections made me wanna neck myself.

[!] From the Barrowlands, a raven bares a message for the Keeper, Alatariel. "To the Keeper, Alatariel. Knighthood is an inherently Canonist honor which you do not have the authority to bestow, as you are not recognized by His Church. Furthermore, Knighthood is not a 'rank' to be given as if it were part of some military hierarchy. It is a title and charge earned from years, in some cases decades of leal dedication to the concept of chivalry. I pray ye amend your 'ranks' to exclude reference to 'Knight-Centura' and 'Knight-Commander'. Lest ye further offend those who are called Knight." Signed Uther, Lord of the Barrow Marches, Chieftain of the Harren'hil, Knight of the Realm

The Barrowton Founding Festival An Invitation to All [Music] TO FRIENDS, COMRADES AND STRANGERS ALIKE, To commemorate the momentous settlement of our bastion amongst the Barrowlands, Barrowton, the House Pendraic does announce that there shall be held a festival, open to all comers, to honor the great efforts of our Knights and expeditioners. At this festival-to-be, attendees may participate in the following festivities: • BANQUET Prepared by the finest culinarian amongst Lord Uther’s band, Ser Aemon Cook 'the Cook', the banquet shall consist of the finest dining Barrowton has to offer and shall persist for the duration of the day’s festivities. • OPEN MARKET Any merchants who wish to peddle goods during the festival may reach out by letter to arrange a reservation for a stall. Further, any merchants who wish to establish permanent storefronts in the Barrowton may, for the duration of the festival, do so with the usual down payment to be waived. • GRAND MELEE AND JOUST Two tournaments in traditional knightly fashion. Firstly, a joust is to take place by the newly constructed lists outside of Caer Pendraic, after which, a grand melee will be held, wherein the last man standing is declared the victor. Both tournaments shall have a ten mina entry free, with a grand prize of a hundred and fifty mina if victorious. Only recognized Knights may participate in the joust, however any and all are welcome to participate in the Grand Melee. House Pendraic is not responsible for any deaths that occur during the joust or melee. The festival shall be an open event for all who wish to attend; however, the following groups and individuals may consider themselves personally invited by Lord Uther himself. • His Holiness, Pontian IV and any other men of the Clergy. @Balthasar @Borin • Leon Barclay, Duke of Minitz, and his House and Retinue. @GoodGuyMatt @Miniguy15736 • Ottomar von Alstreim, Prince of Merryweather, and his House and Retinue. @Ramon • Heinrik Sarkozic, Duke of Adria, and his House and Retinue. @Beamon4 • The Silver State of Haelun’or and Her citizens. @Samler • Lady Alatariel and the Order Golden Lion. @Valannor • Sensei Danzen. @Islamadon • Durin Hammerforge @Tabby64 Signed, Uther of House Pendraic, Chieftain of the Harren'hil, Lord of the Barrow Marches, Templar of Archangel Michael, and Knight of the Realm

From his dreary fortress in the Barrowlands, an Owynist Lord readies himself.

Struck as illegitimate by order of the High Prophet

THE EXPEDITION BEGINS [music] 2nd of the Grand Harvest, 110 SA. Ser Uther Pendraic's stormy grey eyes scanned the misty landscape before him. The air was cold and damp, and the rain fell in a constant 'pitter-patter', the drops coating his armor and making the ground beneath his destrier muddy and slippery. Somewhere behind him in the caravan, he heard a packhorse slip, whining as it fell, and spilling its contents upon the wet ground, he swore under his breath. Despite feeling the chill seeping into his bones, he lead his company deeper into the heart of the Barrowlands undeterred. Although the conditions were dreary, morale remained high among Uther's company, most of whom had prepared themselves for the hardship that was to come many years prior. This expedition was one long in the making after all, ever since Uther's company had departed from the service of House de Vilain all those years ago, how long was it exactly? He wasn't sure, but wagered it was at least close to fifteen years, if not twenty. Lost and without purpose, Uther and his band had found such purpose here in the heathen west. The Barrowlands had long been considered cursed on account of the restless dead that were said to make their haunt here, and while that was partially, and undeniable true in some respect, Uther believed that foe far less numerous, and far less formidable than many had made them out to be. He was, after all, Templar. Even if they were here in their multitudes, he'd be unperturbed, but thus far, they had encountered few supernatural happenings as they wandered deeper within that place. The occasional figure was seen by lantern-light atop the moors and some reported faint mutterings, and bells in the distance, but beyond that, nothing genuinely posed a threat to his band. Truth be told, Uther was more concerned with more worldly threats... Until the first stones of Barrowton and Caer Pendraic were raised, they would be at risk of facing raiders from the west without a wall, and while that troubled him, there was little and less he could do to address that concern for now, and so, he put it from his mind. This was undeniably a dangerous undertaking, some had called it a foolish one, but all the same, Uther was willing to undertake it. As the old saying went, fortune favors the bold. The Chieftain-Knight cast a quick glance over his shoulder towards the company behind him, the rest of his expedition was a motley band, but loyal to a fault every single one of them. They comprised chiefly of the remnants of the Harren'hil, the tribe from which he sprung, and now had claimed the mantle of leadership of. There was a time when they were all Godless save he, pagans who preferred the company of Elves and Nordlings to good, pious men of the Canon, but that time was some decade and a half in the past. Uther had not been popular when they came to him, he was their last resort, and this he knew, for he had left them years prior on account of his faith. Yet, pious as he was, he was still one of them, and furthermore, the most accomplished warrior that brood had e'er sired, especially since the death of Old John. But their years in the Heartlands with him as their chieftain had done much to bring those fellows back into the light of GOD, and, if nothing else, that was Uther's proudest achievement. They were not the only members of his band however, Uther gave little regard for the divide of race, if not faith. Alongside his tribe rode Heartlanders whom he had befriended during his time out east, and had chosen to follow him in search of better fortunes, the oldest among them, some were even Acreans, from back when Uther and his Hedgeknights guarded the Kingswood, though truth be told, they were the fewest among them, the years had not been kind. Father Tonito, who he had taken up as his court-chaplain, fought with the reins of his donkey everytime they encountered a deep well of mud, and of the Glennmaers, only Ser Alwyn rode with him in those days, his son, Garen, who now sought Knighthood himself had been too young, too green when they faced the threats therein. That was when the first whisperings of Serheim had been heard, and before the mustering of the Undead... In truth, part of Uther mourned his departure from the Heartlands, where he'd finally found comradery, kinship, and love. But in the mire that was Aaun and Petra, there was little room for a rising power that was not a slave to either, and of his choice of masters, Uther found all deeply lacking. Such, along with his piety is what drove him to this place. Others felt similarly, outcasts seeking a new life, or zealous crusaders wishing to cleanse the west. Both had rode with him and his tribe, and were now his own. He looked down the caravan, scanning those behind him. Arnarra was the first convert, GOD bless her, and though she had struggled much in life during the reign of the Marsyrs, she made up for it now with the fierce piety she bore. She yearned for Knighthood, and Uther was inclined to give it to her, but not yet. She was still too green, though not for lack of trying. Once she'd bested a worthy foe, he found little reason not to knight her. Garen was the opposite, the younger of the Glennmaers was a fierce warrior, but lacked in the other knightly virtues, at least for now. Behind them rode Oliver and Ser Calahan, both Adunians, both Templars, though only the latter was trained. Once Oliver was baptised, and once he took up the knightly virtues though, Uther would conclude his training. Of Ser Calahan, Uther's thoughts lingered on him warily for a moment. Some described Calahan O'Rourke as a mad-dog, and that was only partially an exaggeration. Ser John (the master whom they both shared in Old Cartref) never taught the man temperance, never taught him restraint- It was hardly Calahan alone's fault that he was the way he was. He and Uther were brothers in arms, he would not let a man languish in undeserved infamy, and so he'd taken the other up as his Sheriff, he who would keep the peace, and train his levies to safeguard his people, that, he believed, would teach the other some patience. Behind them rode Rohir and his woman, Laurelai, and Uther chanced a small smile. Rohir was a man stricken by great guilt- Although rightfully so, no man deserved to suffer alone. She was kind and understanding, more-so than Uther could relate to, and so he was happy for them. Rohir was Ser John's right-hand man, back in the old days, and he wore the stresses of time on his face. Uther made a mental note to make use of the man's talents without burning him out, though how to do that as of yet, he hadn't decided. After them came the Witch, Alara Camian, a Shaman in truth, but few of Uther's band were educated enough to make that distinction, and truth be told, Uther hadn't cared to. She was a woman of the sciences as well as sorcery, and so Uther had charged her with educating his daughter and heir, Morrigan, so she was less ill-equipped than he. She could read, that was a start, Uther hadn't managed that until his forties. Though he'd made Lady Camian swear to not expose the girl to her rituals, truth be told, Uther found having a witch in his service to be an advantage few Lords possessed. Considering the likely alternative was being burnt at the sake, doubtless Lady Camian had done well by herself. There were others, Ser Aemon, who was once his squire, and Charles Varoche, who was his new one, the younger Glennmaer has his entourage of friends he'd brought with him as well, but their names escaped Uther. Uther rode on for a time, pondering all this and more as he studied his surroundings. They were deep now, surrounded by old graves, ancient cairns, some sealed, some not... And all about them, on the hillocks above and valleys below, the landscape was dotted by the ruination of a civilization whose name had long-since been forgotten. There were restless things here, it was true, and even as he rode, Uther felt unseen eyes upon him. But he did not fear them, he pitied them. Hopefully, with this land deconsecrated and resettled, those who lingered would finally know peace. Uther knew one thing for certain. He would conquer the Barrowlands, or die in the attempt... Uther rode down the line a-ways, past the wagons and packhorses that made up their baggage-train, until he eventually found the wagon sporting his colors, gold on red, a wyvern rampant upon a radiant star. Within was his squire, the young Varoche, who was at work polishing his helmet. He looked up as Uther approached, and the elder spoke. "Fetch a quill, lad, and ready a raven. We've letters to send out..." [!] A flier, borne across the breadth of the lands by bird and courier, finds itself posted in the various cities and towns of Canondom ------------------------------------------------ CALL TO THE BRAVE To second-sons, repentant sellswords, prospective adventurers, and pious Canonists seeking new purpose. Are you willing to risk life and limb in the pursuit of fame and freedom? Do you aspire for new lands and good, fresh soil to till, and provide for your family? Are you a pious Crusader seeking to carve out a new realm for Canondom? Then read further. The Barrowlands Expedition seeks to carve out such a place in the long-haunted west, to take lands long-since abandoned, and fill it with bounty once more. We seek to defend Heartlands and Highlands of Canondom from western incursion, and purge this place of the evils that dwell within, so that they might be home to more than grief. We are ready and able, and need only hearty folk, true and brave willing to colonize these lands with us, and make them our own. If you wish to be part of this noble-mission, join us at the campsite of our expedition while we await the masons to raise our holdfast, and know that in spite of all risks, the reward will be great, for together, we shall etch our name into the history books, by sword, cross, and radiant star. Pagans, dragonkin affiliates, and darkspawn sympathizers need not inquire. Signed Uther of House Pendraic, Chieftain of the Harren'hil, Lord of the Barrow Marches, Templar of Archangel Michael, and Knight of the Realm

Clan Lord Jorvin Starbreaker sees not one, but two! Elder Clans cavorting with tree-demon worshippers, and suddenly smells something akin to burnt toast, and feels a sharp pain under his arm.

"We're called the 'Harren'hil'." Ser Uther muttered irritably as he read... Blinks, giving a puzzled look as a quick glance was cast over his shoulder towards the giant stone Lorraine being raised in the center of his campsite by several strong-armed knights with the aid of ropes. The self-styled Lord of the Barrowlands shook his head as he read on. "Twenty years ago maybe... Had the foreigners done they're research, they'd know I've presided over the conversion of most of those godless heathens..."

"Er'rytime one of you ******* whoresons signs a pact with thrice-damned Orenians you dishonor every single one of our ancestors." Snarled Jorvin Starbreaker racistly.

A Templar-Knight approves of settling disputes of honor through the venerated and lauded art of excessive violence.

when you said you supported corporal punishment I didn't think you meant this literally

[!] A flier, borne across the breadth of the lands by bird and courier, finds itself posted in the various cities and towns of Canondom ------------------------------------------------ IN SEARCH OF SQUIRES TO LADS IN SEARCH OF GLORY & PURPOSE, With the recent uptick of undead activity, Ser Uther Pendraic now finds himself in need of a squire. As such, this invitation is put out to any young men of the realm who should be willing to take up this charge. Prospective squires must be of the flock of GOD (or be willing to be baptized to become such) and ought to have some skill in, knowledge of, or be willing to learn the following: Horseback riding, and the proper care of horses Swordsmanship Archery The proper use and maintenance of arms and armor The Chivalric Doctrines All who should be interested in serving Ser Uther may send word by courier-bird, or appear in person so that a trial may be arranged to prove your worth. Please do note that squireships are limited in number, and will be granted as applicants prove worthy of the position. However, those who come late and are still found worthy may be given other charges, should they be so willing. Pagans, dragonkin affiliates, and darkspawn sympathizers need not inquire. Signed, Ser Uther ap Gwynthryth y Pendraic, Knight of the Realm

Settlement PRO MC Name: Kornazkarumm Settlement Name: The Barrow Marches Proposed Settlement Locations (Highlight 3 on the map): (Anywhere in the Barrows/Crypts region will do but preferably the place marked with an X) Settlement Lore (could include previous roleplay posts showing involvement with the community) (1000 words minimum): Settlement Government Structure Explanation: The Barrow Marches are a semi-hereditary Lordship ruled over by House Pendraic, founded by Templar-Knight, Uther ap Gwynthryth. The Leadership of the Barrow-Marches is passed down from father to son (or daughter, if there is no son eligible), but, if the heir is less than sixteen years of age, the Barrow-Marches are ruled over by the eldest next of kin until their heir comes of age. If the heir is unfit (in the case of a cripple, one of unsound mind, or worst of all, a coward) and no other Pendraic is eligible to take on the mantle of Marcher-Lord, a general assembly is called of all sworn Templar-Knights, and a new leader is picked among them by general consensus, settled via a contest of arms if there is no clear candidate. Besides the vigorously-instilled Malchediaelite flair, the Barrow Marches are ruled in much the same way as any other feudal fiefdom, with the Marcher Lord ruling over his sworn knights and retainers, among whom are chosen his cadre of Templar, who remain the most elite and trusted of his advisors, beneath them are the townsfolk of Barrowton, who although lesser in martial skill, are nonetheless brave for joining the Barrowland Expedition, and venturing into that accursed place. A special emphasis is placed on piety among the Chivalric caste, and the Church is held in high regard, with the local priest serving as a senior most advisor and court-chaplain to the Marcher Lord, and as well as tasked with furthering the conversion efforts among the Harren’hil. Settlement Builds and Infrastructure (photos required): https://imgur.com/a/kodL8A1 How does this settlement offer a unique niche not already found in an existing polity on the server?: While ‘feudal’ style settlements are hardly uncommon on the server there are very few specifically holy aligned settlements, (Only the Paladin keep in Urguan comes to mind.) with most falling into the morally gray, focused more heavily on serving their nations’ interests than they are the most righteous cause. That's all well and good, but personally I’ve grown tired of the real-politicking, and would much prefer a noblebright atmosphere compared to the usual game-of-thronesy power struggles on lotc. I want to found a settlement where what is morally right (and more narratively satisfying) takes precedence over what is ‘best’ for the nation in that meta sort of sense. I want the Barrow Marches to be a 'hub' for Templarism in the same way that the Paladin Keep is a hub for Paladinism, which I believe is best accomplished as a free and independent settlement rather than tied to any one specific nation in the way that Paladins are tied to Urguan (since from a narrative point of view, Templars are a lot more likely to establish themselves as a 'faction' rather than the more insularly-focused Paladins). Furthermore, the Marches would also serve as a home for the 'holy' aligned group of Adunians my character has come to lead, who've been bereft of a real home for several months How does your settlement tie to the greater lore and narrative set by the community on LotC?: As mentioned above, the Barrow Marches are tied heavily with my character (Ser Uther’s) Templar philosophy, even to the point of it potentially being detrimental. The Marches will ideally become a hub for (canonist) Templars, as well as the Adunians who’ve thrown in with my character in his quest to safeguard the west and, quite romantically, rid the world of evil. While allowing these groups to flourish, there’s also the obvious potential for conflict among the Adunians less-willing to commit to Uther’s Canonist mission. Speaking of conflict, as well as combatting Darkspawn (for which I intend to adopt a ‘long-term fun over relentlessly seeking to to ‘win’ mentality to avoid toxicity) there’s also the obvious point of contention with the non-canonist nations of the west, such as Norland (who already have a history of conflict with Adunians) Krugmar, and Celia’nor, who are viewed with (borderline irrational) suspicion by the Barrowlanders. Have you ever run a settlement on LoTC before and what experience do you have with leadership within roleplay communities among the current groups of players?: I’ve been in leadership in various capacities for most of my four years on the server. Shortly after joining, I led a Dwarven Elder Clan, during which I was quite successful in managing to bring said clan back from inactivity. Later on at the end of Arcas I became Grand King, and remained so for the very beginning of Almaris. I’d say my time as an NL was middling, as it was a learning experience for me in community management and people-skills, both of which I lacked at the time. More recently, I served as regent of the Barony of Acre for several weeks after M1919 and Ryanark were banned, and managed to (for the most part) keep that settlement running until Ryanark was unbanned. During this time period, learning from my mistakes as Grand King, I adopted a (roleplay first, roleplay only) mentality towards leadership, focusing on what was fun and satisfying for my players rather than serving some vague OOC checklist of things I needed to do to be a good leader. I’d like to think I managed to implement that philosophy quite well, if not fully because of my lack of ‘full’ leadership, but its that same mentality I want to adopt with the Barrow Marches for a healthier RP environment, which will hopefully inspire other leaders to adopt a similar outlook on LOTC. Do you understand the metrics for maintaining activity and the grounds for settlement removal, along with the standing polity cap? All too familiar lmao.

Just bring back the ******* pits jesus ******* christ

show me on the totem of undying where the bad man touched you

In Minitz, an Owynist Knight briefly pauses his fortifying of the local church to ponder the declaration in confusion. In Urguan however, Jorvin Starbreaker, a veteran of the Long War, offers his heartfelt support, and attempts (and fails) to hobble out from his tower to join these valiant warriors.

"Players? Players 'o what? Is th' wellbeing of our youths a joke t'this man? Bah! Folly that I ev'n need t'ask." Grumbled bitter old Jorvin Starbreaker while flicking through the paper with feigned desinterest, reading on.... "Bah! Attemptin' t'placate ev'n now, is he? Sod that. We aught t'have hung this deviant with the same rope we use t'string up my treacherous cousin and all his lickspittles..." Thundered Jorvin towards nobody in particular- As Dhaen was out politicking, and he was left alone. He didn't dwell on that, and kept reading... "National parks? Who does this wazzock think 'e is? A bloody Elgi?" Jorvin scoffs. "Nonsense, that. Fuel the furnaces 'n stop frolickin' in the bloody shrubs..." He rose from his chair, angrily pacing with the help of his cane as he continued to read. "A century since 'e first started pining for office, hah! You'd think he'd take the hint." He grumbled, as if he were speaking to someone else present, which they weren't unless you counted the intensely disinterested housecat. "Jumped up bastard... Its spelt Narvak! Narvak! Narvok is how those Ulrathos bastards spelt it- And that's because they couldn't read!"

Jorvin Starbreaker scowled at his options, dismissive of all of them. After casting a quick glance towards his wife, he casts his ballot.

"Ogradhad, you gods-damned abominable shrubbery." chides Jorvin Starbreaker upon receiving a raven.

"Damnation on that! Balian- Petra, they're both just remnants of that thrice-damned Oren. Yer an Ireheart, aren't you? Finish the ******* job, and put those wretched bastard-children of our most hated enemy to the axe! Do not lie in bed with them!" Howled Jorvin Starbreaker from his self-imposed house arrest, thundering a fist against the dinner table as he read.