CorweenieTheJedi

This missive would be transcribed many times and sent to any and all groups or individuals of the Mali’ker people

As I sit here, sailing on the ships to our new land, I think about my past. Being on this ship reminds me of my time as a sailor in my youth, before I decided to settle down and find a home. First Vira’ker, then Asimu’lei, then Ker’Okarn, and then Aegrothond, and now, who knows. I think about our peoples’ past. I think about the many cities we have built. I think about the stories that have been written, by pen and sword alike. I think about the tales of our ancestors, laying the foundations for everything we take for granted.

And then, I think about our future. However, I am not sure what to think. I am afraid.

I am afraid that once again, the ‘ker will be forced to wander, not having the luxury of having a long term home. One that they can depend on to raise their children in, and give them a sense of belonging. Many places have done this in the past, but with things the way they are now, the future is uncertain at best.

Some time ago, I spoke to my friends in the Royal Sylvaen family, and we discussed this. We spoke about how the ‘ker deserve a home. One that will last through time. But, after the discussion, I thought not much more of it. It wasn’t until the Inferi war where I was gravely wounded, where I had some time to rest and think about what I could do to help my people.

I realized that what my people needed, was something that I could provide. After much thought, and with the blessing of my friends here in the Elvenesse council, I have decided to give birth to a new community of Mali’ker. A humble home, where we can express our culture, and be around our own kin. One where the needs of all ‘ker are met, and we can live in harmony.

This new home will be named the Evarsae’ker, and it will be open to all and any Mali’ker who wish to work together for a brighter tomorrow; and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make this more then a piece of land, this will be a home. A home where we can grow old, and leave a legacy for the next generation to follow, one that we can all be proud of looking back on at the end of our days.

This, is my dream.

And as I sail towards these new lands, where our future is unclear, I know one thing. Though I know we are facing down challenging times...

I have hope.

Signed, 

Sevrel Valin’dar

Each missive would be signed by Sevrel, before they would be sent out to the 'ker that now wander in search of a home.

[OOC]: if this sounds like something you are interested in, please feel free to shoot me a message on discord, Cherry Blossom 🌸⛄#9001 and ask any questions you might have. More will follow this post in the coming days, so do keep an eye out 😉 

Meme RP encouraged

((IC))

Name: Burt Hassenfort
Race: Halfling
Applying For: Librarian
Age: 34
Experience: Not much, but a lover of stories, and a desire to preserve history.
Citizen of Elvenesse: Yes or No: YES
 

((OOC))

Time Zone: PST
IGN: CorweenieTheJedi
Discord: Cherry Blossom 🌸 ⛄#9001

Admins, you literally have several staff members speaking out against these issues, please fix them.

Like honestly.

The casual **** talking of flam tickles me with delight.

Yes.

+1

36 minutes ago, TwilightWolf said:

An elfess squints, bringing the small piece of parchment closer to inspect before turning to her giggling dark elf friend.

 

"I'm sorry, I thought I read something vaguely decipherable but I'm not sure... Care to help out an old timer?" she says, passing him the note.

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

The giggling 'ker shrugs, bringing the parchment to his view again "All I read was a really long and drawn out way to say I have a small brain and no friends"

A 'ker giggles.

k

Pog

+1

1 hour ago, SunnyBee said:

if you could implement one race into LotC, what would it be?

Snow Elves

My question:

You wanna do some epic delf rp??

This does not fit into the LOTC aesthetic even a little bit B U T,

I do think it is very creative and unique. Gives me fantastical witch house sort of vibes. 

Very pog, very epic, I rate it 420/69 mushroom-sheckles.

What about me :3

Very epic

OOC: changed the time back one hour. Same day.

[!] A notice would be pinned to the mast of the Spicy Shrimp, at the front gate of Fort Hope, and in the taverns in Sutica & Aegrothond!

*~Fishing Contest!~*

Us halflin’s ‘ave been goin’ through a bit of a rough patch, what with our ‘ome gettin’ blown ta’ smithereens! I think it’s high time we had ourselves a fishin’ contest! Come one come all!

Come an’ try yer hand fishin’, and win some prizes! We’ll be doin’ the fishin’ off the edge of the Spicy Shrimp, in about four elven days time! The winner will be th’ person with th’ most fish at the end of the time limit! We’ll have rewards for first, second, an’ third place winners!

[!] The missive would end with the signature of Burt Hassenfort.

OOC: Pretty chill event, we will be running a small contest of fishing as the post describes. You can bring your own fishing pole, but we will have some to provide. We will also be using the in game fishing mechanic, so it will be purely random who wins. This Thursday, October 29^th, at roughly at 5pm PST/8pm EST, at the Spicy Shrimp currently docked at Sutica. PM a halfling on discord for help with directions!

Not a terrible idea. The only issue I see with it would be it’s implementation in RP.

For instance, if I caught wind (irply) that a group of bandits was about to raid my city, normally I would have time to RP rallying people to fight and getting things ready, since people would have to rally at their home base and then run/ride there. With fast travel, that time to prepare would be gone and you would just have people instantaneously showing up. Now to be fair, that’s how most raids happen anyways, but there would need to be clear stipulations to fast travel. Like, are you allowed to fast travel to a place to commit villainy RP? Are you allowed to use it to get to your raid target? What would the cool downs for fast travel be, similar to soul stone?

Again, not a terrible idea, and I 100% share the frustration of running for eons to find RP, I’m curious to see how you would implement it.

Unless you are just proposing the idea without any sort of idea on how it would work, which is cool too.

I want snow elves to be unshelved

This is great man, looking forward to seeing more.

The fall of Brandybrook...

*~The village at night, spooky!~*

It started out as an annual celebration of Knox’O’Ween. The apple bobbing, stick fighting, and costume contest had all concluded; and the judging of the Jack o’Lanterns was underway. Candy and pumpkin flavoured foods filled everyone’s stomach, and everything smelled like pumpkin spice something.

*~Apple bobbing and social drinking was afoot in the tavern!~*

*~The costume contest was a tie between Isalie and Acron!~*

The festival was going great. The turnout was huge, people were laughing and having so much fun. It was a shimmer of light in the darkness of the past few months of inferni attacks. People were happy.

What the participants of the night’s activities were not aware of, was that the carving of pumpkins had angered some sort of spirit, and that spirit desired vengeance.

Inexplicably, one of the pumpkins became animated, and grew larger and larger until it became as large as the entire Toady Traveller tavern. It suddenly became aggressive, spewing acid all over Brandybrook, wreaking havoc on the little village. The once beautiful Olive Garden where so many festivals had taken place was being melted away by the acid, the tavern began to buckle under the weight of the beast, the village was being wrecked.

*~The great pumpkin beast!~*

The weefolk of Brandybrook were met with a tough situation, one far too large for them to take on with shovels, and the guard of Aegrothond was nowhere to be seen… They made the hardest decision they ever had to do, and detonated the Bombkins that were scattered through the village, prepared for a situation similar to this. 

The chain reaction of explosions was devastating, and tore apart the home of the halflings, splintered burrows apart, and reduced the village to dust. The descendants present were able to survive by sailing away on the Spicy Shrimp, where the halfling populace currently resides. The Brandybrook residents cried and wept as they watched their home explode. Many, if not most of them having lived there their entire lives. All the graves of the famous weefolk, those who built it, those who fought to defend it, those who passed away in it’s serene arms, blown away. Remembered only by those now on the Spicy Shrimp.

Without a home, they now sail. To where, they don’t know... All they knew, was that they were not going to let the village be destroyed by any beast. It was built by their hand... and it would fall by their hand...

OOC: First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who showed up to this event, thanks for making it such a success. Thank you to Jumper who helped me organize this. HUGE thank you to D4NNA for doing the emotes for the pumpkin beast and pasting in the monster so we had something to look at. You ran so many cool events with us, it's poetic that you were the one to run our last. Lastly, thank you to all the halflings and bigguns who made Brandybrook the village it was. I remember walking through the village when I first came to LOTC and thinking it was amazing, and I really am sad to see it go. But of course, all good things must come to an end. Here’s to an even better halfling village on the next map.

All in all, it’s been a slice. See you in 8.0 folks ❤️

[!] Burt finishes sharing the flyers around Brandybrook, and a few in Aegrothond. After handing them out, he begins to do the finishing touches on his preparations for the festival, with an excited spring in his step.

As another soul was swept into the wheat fields, there sat a stout looking halfling, leaning against an oak tree. 

Fred would recognize the familiar face.

"Howdy partner… ya did good down there."

He stood and smiled to Fred.

"Welcome home, friend."

--------------

Fred was one of the last few halflings alive who personally knew Burt's father, Benedict. The passing of the old'un pained Burt, but even more so the nature of his death.

Ashamed of himself, Burt stayed in Brandybrook. Unable to muster the courage to go help like his father did, he lived at the mercy of the Inferni and watched as halfling after halfling was carried back to the village and laid to rest.

He wept in his burrow, in a world he didn't know anymore.

Sevrel's facial expression was largely unchanged when he heard the news of Xavis' death. 

For years Sevrel had found solace in hating Xavis, but in reality, he was simply trying to cover up the pain of knowing the man Xavis was before his dark fall. Surely he was never perfect, and made many detestable choices, but Sevrel found meaning in serving in Vira'ker under Xavis' rule. He found purpose in protecting the royal (at the time) family, and by extension, Rhaella Ashwood, who became his oldest friend.

The memory of chuckling as Xavis was reemed out by Rhaella when she was a child flashed into Sevrel's mind. Among other fond memories of the two, such as besting Xavis in a spar on the beaches of Vira'ker, to the great pleasure of the onlooking Rhaella.

Sevrel took a ride to what was Vira'ker, and walked the beach. He looked out to the ocean, and pictured the two of them there with him.

The winds blew, as a tear streamed down his cheek…

"Ker'ayla, lirran…"

As the kind spirit of Micah O’Connell was carried to Knox’s Great Wheat field, the winds blew through the ethereal pasture. The tormented mind and soul was finally at peace. 

Waiting for him there was an old but stout looking halfling; with a big bushy beard, deep blue eyes, and a kind face. He smiled.

“Howdy Micah…”

~

Burt skipped along the road to Brandybrook to see Uncle Micah. He had made a pumpkin pie himself to give the Thain, and was looking forward to hearing stories that the halfling had.

He got to Micah’s residence and knocked on the door to the burrow, but got no response. 

Shrugging, figuring the Thain was busy, he decided to head to his own burrow and visit Micah later.

When he got to his burrow, he noticed a letter in his mailbox, addressed to him from Micah. Perplexed, he took the letter and went inside. Once he sat down, he set the pie on the table and opened up the letter.

As he read it, tears began to stream down his face. He dropped the letter and ran out his door, crying as he ran.

He ran, and ran, and ran. He wanted to run away from it all. He didn’t want it to be true. He ran until there was nowhere left to run, and he found himself at the spot where the Dinkle river meets the sea. He fell to his knees, where he bawled. 

First Deek Driftwood, and now Micah O’Connell, two of the only people who he could learn about his father. Two people who he loved, and looked up to. He collapsed onto the ground and buried his head in his own embrace, as he wept...

The flowers blew in the wind...

Burt wept in the arms of his caretaker, Taal, after hearing the news of his uncle's passing.

He took a walk down the Dinkle River, to where it met the ocean. He thought about all the stories that Deek told him. Stories of amazing adventures with his father and Deek fighting monsters and sailing the seas on the Spicy Shrimp. 

He took solace in knowing that Deek had a (mostly) good life, but wished that he could have heard just one more story from the Old'un.

As he walked the area on the beach where the grass meets the sand, he saw a lone white lily. He picked it, and held it up to look at it. 

A strong gust of ocean wind blew, and Burt looked down to the flower in his hand, and back out to the water. He walked to the edge of the water, and let go of the flower, allowing the wind to pick it up and towards the ocean.

A few tears streamed down his face, but the boy smiled.

"Goodbye, uncle Deek…"

The wind blew through his hair and he looked on for a moment, before turning to head back home.

By the time Sevrel had arrived to the scene of the fire, it was not but smoldering rubble and ash covered debris. He conducted a brief survey of the area, before ordering several of his guards to begin investigating, along with ordering the security measures to be doubled around the city.

As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he barely got to his door before starting to lose his composure. He got himself inside his home, locked the door and unravelled. He let out an agonized scream of pure grief, as he smashed his fist into the wall until blood dripped from his worn knuckles. In a fit of rage, he drew his sword and brought it down on his dinner table, nearly slicing it clean in half, before the anger turned to sorrow. He stumbled and collapsed onto the floor with his back leaning against the wall; and hung his head, as hot tears streamed down his face, and spattered onto the floor.

Alone, only with the memories of his oldest and dearest friend, he wept...