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NAME AND FORMALITIES Full Name: Yoshimi Otsugowara Nicknames: Chibi-Chan, Imoto GENERAL INFORMATION Age: 18 Gender: Female Race: Farfolk - Easterner Status: Alive PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION Weight & Height: 97 lbs, 5’2ft. Body Type: Petite Eyes: Dark Brown Hair: Black Skin: Sunkissed with rosy cheeks. PERSONALITY & MISC. Personality: Quite, protective, silly, charming, kind, optimistic, and a helpful hand. Alignment: Chaotic Good Religion: ??? Home: ??? Titles: Seamstress and Chef Voice Claim: 2B Japanese Voice Actress Theme Songs: At Peace Cutesy Song Finding Beauty Going to War Art & Face Claim:

“Time is a tricky yet unstable force of nature. No mortal creature or immortal creature can understand the rules of this force and because of this, the Kha lost their powers to manipulate it and even future attempts to relearn this art are thwarted by the forces beyond mortal understanding. Those who call themselves Skygods, but I have another name for them. The Elder Gods.” When the world of mortals was made back on Aegis, it created what was known as a World Timeline. It was an intangible force of nature that all Chronomancers could access to gain information of the past, present, and future, granting them the knowledge and power to reshape history to their very whims. This did not come without its cost, though as the world of mortals had invoked the powers of the Elder Gods and they began to lose their connection to the Timeline. No one from the mortal world was allowed to change history with the knowledge gained from the future or even to have the power to alter it. That is until a certain object came into being. It was the very thing that the Elder Gods used to alter the Timeline and create a fixed point in Time. No mortal or immortal could understand it or even feel its power, but I could. Those same Elder Gods created me to guard their precious artefact for millennia and while I did, I gained information. Information that could bring this world to its knees. They gave me the knowledge to understand history and guard against it being altered. I know the Laws of Time and all the loopholes they presented, but however, I was not granted the knowledge to see how to break free of this eternal bond. I knew about the Prince and his goal to bring this world to its knees, but I could not change history. I could not tell the Descendants that they were fated to win against such a force or just how dangerous the Prince was. I could not alter the present by telling them that they were to face a threat that if not extinguished, would lead to disaster. I could not even side with them and change the future by erasing the Prince from Time. Like the druids, I was to remain neutral and do nothing. That was the law laid out to me by the Elder Gods. Now, I grow mad by this bond to the World Timeline. My mind slowly ebbs away to the Timeline and I can't escape it. My body, though immortal and never ages, is in torment and endlessly breaking down my physical strength. My very soul is siphoned away into the Timeline, never to be reclaimed. I want to be free. ~(+)=(+)~ OOC: This is a part of a story for an eventline that has dire consequences for all who are involved. It is not endorsed by the LT, ET, Admin, GM, or World Dev Teams whatsoever as this is provides a base for the storyline “Artefacts of the Divine” that I plan to write up. There will be seven artefacts in total.

The Disunited States of America The Prelude 1860 ___________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________ Dissolution 1860, a year that will go down as one of the most significant in history; The final year of the great American experiment. Tensions for decades have been rising now. The “Band-Aids” congress put over the open wound of slavery were insufficient. With every new territory the debate was risen again. How long could it go on for? Almost a hundred years is the answer. Leading up to 1860 the south was in almost open revolt. At odds with each other, and the Union as a whole, there was major discontentment. Slave states saw their very way of life being infringed upon. Wealthy aristocrats strove to maintain power over the inferior white and black neighbors. Cotton was booming. The northern states for their part was not a unified utopia. Conflicting business, political, and foreign ideas were leading to clashes. Many simply could not agree. Immigrants flooded the north, forming their own communities and power blocs. Though heavily industrialized and populous, the North was led by cronies and congressional snakes. Policy was geared towards profit, and the Federals were on everyone’s front porch. It all came to a climax in the elections of ‘60. It was a four way run, with various parties involved. The Southern Democrat, Republican, Northern Democrat, and Constitutional Union parties all had candidates. It boiled down to two. Lincoln, and Breckenridge. In the end though it was clear Lincoln would win. This lead to nation breaking machinations… South Carolina was the first to secede Mississippi and the rest of the deep south soon followed. What began was a domino effect, The upper south came next. Virgina, North Carolina, Tennessee, one by one, secession after secession the ‘United’ States slowly collapsed. New York was the first of the Northern states to secede, Ohio came next. In the confusion a New English offer of annexation towards Canada was discovered. As 1860 became 1861 the Union had completely disintegrated in all but the once capital and small forts scattered across the once nation. The United States was no more The Fallout Following the collapse of the United States of America, a major power vacuum was left in its wake. The Federal Armies had evaporated, desertion and defection had set in. Only small bastions of the Federal government remained most notably in scattered forts, arsenals, and Washington D.C. itself. The government of the newly independent states resembled the former nation in one form or another. The vast majority simply kept to their governments, state governments now in power. State militias became the sole military units at the states disposal The tensions of the pre-collapse period remain ever prevalent. The abolitionist movement continues its growth in the free northern states. In the south, african-americans remain in shackles. The massive cotton industry is now fractured, as a trade war of massive proportions brews in the deep south. The North is no stranger to the tensions gripping the continent either. The offer of the upper New English states to join the British Empire has not gone forgotten. A massive conflict between the newly independent states of America is almost bound to occur in one form or another. OOC This FRP will begin in a historical manner with a start date of January 1st, 1861. The Governments, administrations, and leadership (both domestic and militarily) of the individual states will remain the same as they are in our timeline. As the game progresses, and history takes an alternate course, introduction of custom/special characters will be allowed. Alliances, Unions, and confederacies will be permitted within reason. Any U.S. State pictured on the map above is available Application Discord Name; Desired State; History of said State’s history, leadership, and government; Nominal Leader/President/Governor/etc.; Do you want a Custom Character? If so what’s their name and background? (Can only start in low level positions of power);

The Encounter Aldonza Castelo takes a tentative sip of the wine, eyes glimmering in delight as the decadent liquid passes her lips. The woman leans back in her chair, swirling the wine as she looks up towards the evening sky, “Ah, yes. The story of my scar.” Her gaze drops back to the inquisitor. “I suppose it all began with a Grand Marshal and the King’s quest.” This was no simple errant quest. The far Southern reaches of Atlas is a cold and unforgiving wasteland of death. It is far too easy for the common man to fall prey to frostbite, starvation, or worse. However, if the King wanted the Southern region of Atlas mapped, then by the Seven Skies Roland Castelo would see it done. Four other brave souls would come to accompany him on this endeavour. The Sergeants Aldonza Cervantes and Vittore Stefano Volaire- both seasoned warriors of the Legion- help form the backbone of the group. Then, of course, there was the recruit. Bringing Jack along was clearly a mistake, but this was merely a mapping expedition and there were other soldiers of experience to call upon if necessary. The final member of the team would be a man by the name of Louis. A scholar of questionable scholarly attributes that was itching for a bit of adventure. Unbeknownst to them just what fate had in store, the five packed their bags and headed off towards the snowy mountains. The sky would soon grow dark as skies often do and crystal-esque snowflakes began to fall softly about the travelers. Five weary travellers came to a halt in a field of white. For you who might never have dared the forbidding Southern reaches, night is not a pleasant time to traverse the land. Three stayed behind to prepare tents and the yearned for embrace of a fire while the Sergeants split off, moving several yards out in separate directions to scout the region they had settled. Sergeant Aldonza was the first to return followed shortly by Sergeant Vittore. Each soldier announced their own discovery of ruins and edifices to the Grand Marshal. Over the crest of a small hill a few mere steps away, the other two followed the Cervantes to her findings. The ruins of a wall connecting two snowy hilltops loomed over them, too refined to be that of the ice wall that keeps the people of Atlas confined to that which they call home. Not to mention that this particular wall had a sizable archway within the center of it, guarded by cracking statues taller than any uruk could hope to stand. These desolate ruins posed no foreseeable threat, so a mark on the map and promises to return to investigate in the sun’s light were made as the group continued on to what the Sergeant Vittore had observed. Trudging over the flurry brushed hills- struggling to maintain their balance with the sporadic trembles of the ground- the trio came in sight of a Keep. Hopeful walls glowing of candlelight stood firm, beckoning to the soldiers. The remaining comrades were quickly summoned from the camp and together they all stood before the closed gates of solace. Their calls for the master of the house- or anyone willing to open its gates- were answered only by their own voices, echoing into the night. The darkness of forsaken hope cast its veil upon the union. Biting cold kissed them with icy lips and the wind seemed to howl only louder. It was nay over for the group, but the thought of returning to their little fire when compared to the comfort of shielding walls and warm food wrought everything in despair. Even the faint trembles of the ground seemed to grow in strength and number. For so they did. The howls of the wind were mere whispers in light of the thundering roar that made even the gargoyles adorning the Keep tremble at its might. A new chill- that which had little to do with the snow and wind- passed over our heroes. Five travellers of forgotten weary plow onwards through the snow, further up the mountainside to a surface of stone. The foundation of some structure lost to time. Moonlight glistens off soldiers’ blades and arrow tips alike as suspense plays its cruel tricks, catching breaths and warping time to a dreamlike halt. Even the gale waits silently, reverently, for the beast to make its debut. Now matter how the wind blows, the mountain does not bow before it- so say some. But this creature of fury and frost makes trembling cowards of the mountains. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sounds of night and rumbling ground applaud the warrior of the Southern reaches. Its icy gaze, peering around a snow-capped mountain peak, strike the group unlike any sword. This creature was surely one of the Seven Skies. Scales formed of the stars themself glisten. And from the wyvern of ice and frost so booms its powerful roar. “To arms! Stand your ground!” The voice of the Grand Marshal battles for dominance over the beast’s. Two arrows whistle through the air, each meeting its mark. Bows hold favor over the sword wielders as the creature pushes up into the sky. For a moment, the language barrier between man and wyvern is undistinguishable. All its rage is encompassed in a powerful breath of ice and wind. Those with shields raise them high before their comrades as more arrows are knocked at the ready by those with a bow to release them. These weapons of war are but toys to the beast. It’s roar replicates that of a merciless laugh as it swoops forward, claws outstretched to ****** up its nearest prey. Soldiers leap into action to no avail. Sergeant Vittore is raised briefly into the night sky for a mere few feet before the creature loses hold on its stubborn victim. Nonetheless, he is momentarily left winded by the cracked stone that greets him. The notion that the layer of ice protecting the wyvern is impenetrable begins to settle in their mind. Their arrows are practically useless against its natural shield. Fear shrouds them for but a moment when the Grand Marshal calls out once more “Down the mountain men and to the North!” Without question, the group hastens down the mountainside. Though they run in fear, do not take this act in cowardice. Soldiers and scholar alike career onwards to an awaiting forest. Snow begrudgingly gives way to forest floor, leaving frosted puddles here and there. Within the woods embrace, the five each take to the cover of a tree and await the approach of their predator. It’s cry announces its presence before the shaking of the ground as it lands ever could. The soldiers whirl around from behind the decent safety of their respective trees all at once. Arrows are knocked into place once more by Sergeant Vittore and Footman Jack as the other two soldiers begin their charge unto the beast. The Sergeant Aldonza fuels her charge with a mighty warcry only to receive a roar in return. The barrier of tongues is meaningless once more as the two foes cry out to one another, each one mightier than the last. Before any real winner can be determined, blades and arrows descend at once upon the beast. The weapon that were once useless strike the beast, its armor of ice melting away in the warmer air of the woods. Blood and sweat taints the air. The moon casts shadows of the battle upon the trees- the sole audience to the scene. Man and beast alike stir up the mud of the earth in their struggle. Blade and arrow upon scales. Claws and icy breath upon shield and armor. With a sickening squelch, the Grand Marshal’s blade is thrust into his foe once more in a substantial blow. The wyvern launches into the sky with a cry of agony, the action ripping the weapon from the officer’s grasp. Sergeant Aldonza is quick enough to leap back as their foe quickly descends, but the same cannot be said for the Castelo soldier. Five yells of varying intensity ring out. Bows are replaced in haste with swords and two sergeants, a recruit, and a scholar move with newfound rage to the aid of their Grand Marshal. Its victim still mangled beneath its claws, the wyvern spreads the once beautiful wings of icy crystals out. The air whistles from the sheer force of the motion as its wings arc forward, dangerously sharp claws upon each like that of a bats reaching to strike at its oncoming enemies. Another powerful blow is delivered, a claw catching the face of Sergeant Aldonza- the wyvern’s nearest opponent. The woman is sent flying back, leaving the remaining three to see a losing battle won. But their wrath holds no meaning to the foe, satisfied with the chaos it has wrought. The magnificent creature takes to the sky. And so the wyvern flies off, tracing its path of flight in a trail of blood. The trees look upon what remains of the group mercilessly. Two soldiers kneel beside their officer, looking unto the lethal damage done as the scholar moves to see to the wounds of the Cervantes. “Help the Grand Marshal,” the woman pushes Louis away, crawling forward towards the others as one hand clutched to the blood that pools from her face. It is evident that time will not be kind unto our five hopeless heros. Roland does no more than groan as the life slips from his weary form. Aldonza clutches the wound dealt to her face, pleading for someone to save him, damnit! Vittore looks over the wounds of his fallen friend and leader with a hopeless stare. Louis digs through what little supplies they still had on them in a desperate attempts to find something of medical value. Jack goes back and forth between Louis and Roland, as unsure as the rest of them as what was left to be done. And all of them slowly feel the weight of the night’s battle and the wretched nightmare they bore witness to bear down upon their shoulders. Aye, the story could end here. You who comes to know of this forlorn tale must surely now weep for our fallen heroes. But do not let yourself despair, for the trees themselves must have whispered of their state to passing wanderers. Three beings emerge from the foliage, surely Aenguls come to lift their sorrows and heal their wounds. And they do. One of the three embodiments of hope steps forth, enacting miracles of medicine unto the wounded soldiers. The three beings leave almost as quickly as they came, leaving no more than whispered words of advice and healing wounds. Those of us the wiser know the trio to nay truly be Aenguls, but for such light to pierce the veil of despair, they may have as well been. Five comrades sit in the woods. A Grand Marshal, two Sergeants, a recruit, and a scholar. Tonight they rest and give thanks for their life’s. But the time may come- the time will come- when five comrades seek out their foe once more. ((A few quick notes! This story is based an actual event that occured within LOTC. A huge thanks to Unwillingly who was the ET member who ran the event and later on also ran the revenge event. Also a huge thanks to Zac Clay who happened to have been streaming LOTC at the time and dropped by to stream a bit of the tail end of this event. And of course, a huge thanks to all those that were participants in the event and got to experience this with me! This forum post has been a long time coming and I’m really glad to be able to have finally finished this so that I might share it with all of you. Please let me know if you would like me to write a part two for this that entails the revenge story.)

The sight hurt. Jarsek Myrsta, upon finding his homeland destroyed and full of damaging magic, was not pleased to find his home in such a state. He blamed September for destroying such a beautiful place while he was away and himself for not being here to defend it. Sometimes, it is enough to find hatred in destruction. He was a pure high elf in every sense of the word, but even he had his faults. No one was immune to emotions running rampant and this included Jarsek. His own emotions were not like most high elves, but this would prove to either be his greatest strength or his weakness. Jarsek felt no pain or sorrow once he looked upon Haelun’or, but rather he felt something else. Something that was beginning to add fuel to a bonfire that would last for the rest of his life. Cursed or soulless? No one knew. Not those left to see the day as this was my own challenge to overcome. He hated the fact that his grandson had been an impurity in his own house. The news of his death did greatly satisfy him, but it was not enough. He wanted to rid his grandson from the history books and make it to where he never existed in the first place. This kind of task would require a great cost, but it was one he was willing to pay. Even in death, his impurity rots. In life, I thought he would grow up to be a scholar working in the Eternal Library, his unyielding curiosity granting us more knowledge. No, this was not to be. After seeing his home destroyed, he came across a fellow high elf. One that even he thought seemed a bit suspicious. This high elf had told him that his name was Illiran Drennan, but he had never heard of such a name before. Even on his journeys abroad, he never once heard of such a house. It was at this moment that Jarsek decided to investigate this house through Illiran, but the risk of having this trust broken was too great at the time. No, he would slowly gain this elf’s trust and try to learn more, though this would also take its time. No greater shame exists than having someone in your own house be impure. Yet, this was something that could be inferred as irony. My grandson was impure and my own impurity stem from the blood on my hands. I took no joy or pity when I fought in battle, but felt nothing at all. This was something that no magic in the world could do to me as I was born with the ability to wield my emotions like a two-edged sword. It was what made me a good warrior, but it can also make me a monster. After talking to Illiran, Jarsek left the site of his old home and journeyed back to the Kadarsi, a cold darkness in his gaze as if he had shut himself from his own emotions. He didn’t know fear or loss, but he did know anger, fury, and rage. This could prove to be his downfall as the sight of his homeland did affect him, but not in the normal ways that a blighted land did. No, he was a blighted phoenix...

How does it feel? Dreycon asked himself that question as he went home towards Sutica. It wasn’t much of a question, but when he set those crops on fire, something felt off about him. This feeling seemed to persist as the walk back to Sutica continued through the forests and the beautiful landscape. He was a firm believer in fate and the balance of the world, but after the encounter with the sprite and the whole arson, nothing felt familiar. It was almost like he had done something to himself that had yet to be revealed. How does it feel? It lingered in his mind. The only question he was unsure of on how to answer properly. His feelings were complicated at the beginning when he lost his family to elven warriors, making him an orphan. He guessed that it felt good? How does it feel? It didn’t go away. It was maddening to ask himself the same question in his mind over and over again, almost like a broken record. He sought out the forces of September as a way to figure out what was wrong with him and see if they had healers that could heal him, but all he found was a maddening feeling that consumed his mind. How does it feel? He prayed to GOD in the hopes that he’d find redemption, but his prayers were left unanswered. That question still left a mark in his mind that seemed to never go, searing itself into his very core. How does it feel? Dreycon smiled with a dark grin. It felt nice to get it out of its cage. The pent-up rage and fury that had been building over his life finally turned into a bonfire that had plenty of fuel to burn. The flame was a cold one, but his cold embers would wear away his sanity and turn him into a clear psychopath. He felt like some of his constraints had been shaken off of him, the ones that made him weak and insufferable. It would grant him power, but not the magical kind. Power, the type he had his eye on, was physical alone. He didn’t wish to give away control to anything but himself. The dream he had the night before last finally started to make sense. It was a dream of fire that burned cold, but it would consume the world. Dreycon dreamed of a world without nature or descendants, but a world ravaged by the flames of war. How does it feel to finally let me free, Dreycon? To finally let your inner demon burn through your mind and fill your veins with fire and fury?

General Information Name & nicknames: Fahron Daluon, the wandering Hermit Race: Wood Elf, with parts of Farfolk-Blood in his veins Gender: Male Year of Birth: 1655 Religious Belief: Aspectism Voice Reference: Aruvn - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijKAd4CjRqM Physical Description The average height of a Daluon man is at around, 5’9’’ feet, although the tallest reach heights around 6’3”, often peeking out of most Heartlander males due to their height. Following such genetic structure Fahron is standing, thanks to his elven genes, at a towering 6’2’’, often being able to glance over the heads of most folk easily. Thanks to his daily training and the travels he does every day Fahron holds a muscular body-build holding the weight of 209 lbs. Due to amber-colored eyes from his mother and the golden-sandy-colored eyes from his father Fahron has a rather gentle and soft mix of those colors, giving him a rather bright orange-golden eye color. Thanks to the same reason Fahron is also holding a rather tanned-olive skin, as his father already had fairly dark skin and his mother being on the tanned skin-tone side, causing him to develop such skin color. However, unlike most Daluons Fahron doesn’t possess white hair, due to his mother being a wood elf and his father already being a crossbreed of a farfolk and an elf, causing his elven genes to be more dominant and giving him a brownish hair color. Like his father Fahron is also keeping his facial hair cut down to the minimum often showing some stubbles, but barely more than that. While he keeps his beard shaved Fahron is often letting his body hair grow out, either due to the fact that he hates wasting the time to shave or due to the fact that he simply doesn’t care about it as much. As such he is often displaying far-reaching tufts that cover most of his body. Personality Energetic: Fahrons primary trait is his energetic enthusiasm. He is always filled with energy and helps others out whenever he can without any hesitation. This trait is also very helpful for his travels and his daily life, since it often leaves him in a good and energetic mood. Free Spirited: Unlike his father Fahron is known as a rather free spirit, trying to follow his own path and ideals, and staying true to those as much as possible. As such he wouldn’t agree on doing something he isn’t feeling comfortable with. Fearful: Fahron is known to show a rather kind and gentle side, yet, despite such a facade he is also able to bring fear to those that are acting against his ideals, not hesitating to let his voice be heard and him taking physical actions. Besides from such his talents in strategic thinking is turning Fahron into an enemy no one wants to fight against. Unorganized: Like father, like son, Fahron is fairly unorganized, often losing stuff or being unable to find important documents. Most of his backpack seems cramped and is so unorganized that it can take Fahron more than a few minutes to find a single item within. Strengths Helpfulness: Unlike most people Fahron is often trying to help people instead of himself. Sure, he wants to achieve his goals, but he also wants to support the people he likes, may it be physically, mentally or any other possible way. Fast thinker: Fahron might be a hermit and wanderer, but in reality he is a rather fast thinker, using his surroundings and given information rapidly, for example to create an escaping plan. Being a fast thinker is also helping him in his daily life, especially in the wild and in other dangerous situations. Experience in Shortsword- and Kama-Usage: Unlike most folks Fahron prefers the usage of shortswords or Kamas about everything. He was trained in this form of combat for most of his life and he knows where to place his hits to take an enemy down in the shortest amount of time. Weaknesses Arachnophobia: Despite befriending many animals and creatures easily, almost inherently, Fahron hates spiders more than anything else. As soon as he sees a spider around him, he will try to put as much distance between him and the arachnid as possible. Another way of Fahron to take care of spiders is it to throw a lot of stuff in the spiders direction, trying to kill it with the impact of, as an example, books, plates and even flower pots. Arthritis: Due to Fahrons lifestyle and the overuse of his whole body he started to develop a form of arthritis. Most of the time he feels a slight pain in his hands and wrists, but is often trying to ignore the pain in his daily life. However, he is receiving a rather strong drawback of the arthritis after every fight, causing his eyes to water up and to curse, due to the amount of pain.

Ulbyutr uv Jrdolrydr ”Ulvr Jorukr Uv Aesyr!” [!] Cold and wet. That was how the Ulvir could describe his environment currently. He opened his eyes, no longer recognizing his nice warm shack it was a minute ago. Now, he was surrounded in water, unable to see anything. The darkness of the water was too great for his eyes. He glanced around, strangely, he was able to breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement, quickly turning towards it. Nothing but darkness of the sea. He squinted, before turning. Only to be met with a shark’s head. The size of which, was tremendous. He recognized the type, a Great White Shark. It looked at him with hungry eyes, before he heard it in his head. “Every shark needs a family, Ulvir. I suggest you find yours.” Without another word, the Shark opened it’s maw and swallowed him whole. He awoke in a cold sweat, glancing around hurriedly. The man was back in his home, in his comfortable bed. He let out a relieved sigh, but he knew this was a sign. Immediately, he got up to get to writing. The banner and seal of the Northspawn on it. [!] “Brothers, Sisters, Northspawn, answer my call. I am your Ulvir, Belynr Torunrsson. I have received a vision, from Sigvaldr, our creator. He calls us back to form together again. We must answer him, and obey him. As your Ulvir, I ask all of you to come to us. We are forming to become a single, united Clan. Join us once more, fight for the restoration of your people. -Your Ulvir, Belynr Torunrsson-Yngouf” (^^^A banner that would be raised^^^) ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Intro: Hello, thanks for deciding to click on my post!, perhaps you are interested in what this is all about or you just want to judge if this would be something you would like to join, or your just bored and want to read!, Anyway the following is some info that you may be interested in. If you have any feedback for me or questions feel free to reply to this post and or direct them to my discord. Who are we..? We are called Northspawn, a group of like minded people that enjoy Norse culture and wish to bring it to LOTC in a fun and joyful way. The group is a pact of Northspawn that would rally to the Ulvir’s (Leader of Peoples) call to bring glory to the gods once more since the last of the Northspawn has been scattered back when the Norlanders where still around. As the empire grows stronger, new “Ways” must be born in the ashes. Roles must be filled and warriors born. As new lands are discovered so must new ideals be brought. How or why should I join? We are currently needing more members to fill the roles of our pact, Farmers, Craftsmen, Priests / Priestesses (Not canonist priests.. ^.^), Any walks of life ICly! Now I know what you may be thinking... “Well I kinda want to join, but maybe not.., I’m not even Northspawn.” Well I got news for you, you don’t have to be born into the culture, we will induct you into it!, Although you must seek us out ICly if you wish to join but are not wanting to be born into our lore. If you are wanting more details and or got questions, add me through discord: Dallren#3257 Questions if you wish to apply to join: Minecraft Username: Character Name: Discord Tag: Character Age: Character Race: Profession IC: Any questions once I add you?:

The Nordengrad Imperialization Act Est anno Domini 1690 The title of Nordengrad still left a sour taste in the mouth of many, yet it was now once more bountiful land within the Emperor's holding. Thus, the Nordengrad Imperialization Act has been put in place to once more put this land, which is a vital settlement to remain presence in the North, to good use. Potential suitors to hand Nordengrad to were audited and no better option was found other than His Grace, Demetrius var Ruthern. A long serving and loyal Duke to the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska who would then subsequently pass it on to the deserving House of Mournstone - a house who proved to be a great asset in the funding of Our Imperial Crown during the hard fought rebellion against the pretender King. Therefore, from the publication of this act Lady Valencia of the House of Mournstone shall serve as the Countess of Nordengrad and it’s sole ruler. The Terms, agreed upon by both nations, are as followed: In the event that the Earldom of Nordengrad claims itself as independent or begins to make it’s way down the road of rebellion against the Empire of Man, then the de facto leadership shall be stripped and the title of Earldom of Nordengrad, and all the rights that come with it, then will be given to the Lord-Patriarch of House Ruthern. In the event that, after the aforementioned title stripping at appointing to the Lord-Patriarch of House Ruthern, if the Ruthern Lord begins to make it’s way down the road of rebellion against the Empire of Man, then the de facto leadership shall be stripped of the title of Earldom of Nordengrad and all the rights that come with it, then will be given to the Lord-Patriarch of House Barbanov. To cement the land back under Imperial control the House of Mournstone will be expected to erect a church, or place of worship, to the canonist faith within or near to the newly granted lands. It is acknowledged that the worship of the Red Faith may continue within Nordengrad alongside the Canonist faith and the preaching of the Red Faith will remain confined within the lands of the Earldom. HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Robert I Bihar, King of Hanseti-Ruska HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Augustus Horen, Crown Prince of the Imperium Septimus HIS GRACE, Demetrius var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus HER LADYSHIP, Valencia Mournstone, Countess of Nordengrad

========================================= Name of the Treaty: The Elven Contract , 1689 ========================================= Type of Treaty: [Alliance, Non-Aggression and Defensive Pact] ========================================= [Nation / Freebuild] [Name: The Empire of Man] [Nation / Freebuild] [Name: The Sable Enclave of Vira’ker] ========================================= Date of Signing: 13th Malins Welcome, 13th of Owyn’s Flame ========================================= The Sable Contract, 1689 A world at war draws any and all to the table. The fledgling remnants of the blood of Ker’nor had sought to keep their newly proclaimed freedom since severing ties with the Dominion, offering assistance in the upcoming battles to the Empire; that should the wars to come sway in their favor, they would thrive thereforth. Entering the fray alongside the Ichorian elves and reformed ‘aheral, the elves now join the war in full. CEASE WITH THE FLUFF The Terms, agreed upon by both nations, are as followed: They will enter an Alliance, Defensive Pact and Non-Aggression pact for the duration of the war that will commence against the following: Enemies of the Empire, Enemies of the Vira’ker. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Aurelius Horen, Emperor of Man HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Augustus Horen ,Crown Prince of the Imperium Septimus SABLE PRINCE, Ganzorig Vincrute, Hierarch of the Div’cruan

* 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?".

17 BBY Star Wars – Shadows of the Past ______________________________ All is quiet on the surface of Edichi. It has been less than a year since the ‘Pulse’ blew through the system, rendering all inside it isolated. The ensuing chaos fractured Imperial forces on the surface as regional commanders and leadership figures jockeyed for control over what remains of the Empire. Both free and occupied Edichi cities were not excluded from this power struggle. Attempts to reduce the scope of Imperial control were met with varying degrees of success, though no major cities were reclaimed, Imperial control of the surface was heavily reduced. The Edichi Government, still desperate to retain control over the world is in a state of confusion, incompetence, and chaos. Local political and military leaders eager to elevate their reputation in the public eye, seldom follow government directives. A relative rush to bolster the ranks of the military ensue, and hunts for any functioning equipment are underway. In the flurry of conflict and chaos of the proceeding years, where most eyes looked to the surface of the planet, the appearance of two rather large ‘stations’ of unknown origin has gone relatively unnoticed. Their purpose is a mystery as is where they came from. They hang barely in orbit of Edichi, no transmissions from either of the two ‘stations’ have been observed. No attempts have been made by the Edichi government to contact or investigate them. No more findings regarding the mysterious ‘Structure’ have been made since it’s alleged destruction last year. ----------- OOC Applications are still being accepted If an action is questionable, ask before doing This is free form, but don’t go over the top on actions or you will face consequences. Exercise common sense Please include an actions section to your posts where you can summarize the main points

Star Wars Shadows of the Past ____________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ On a secluded world in the outer rim, far from the bloody Clone Wars, a local mining operation uncovers what at first is an unknown ‘temple’. Later investigation would fail to decipher the structure’s origin and purpose. Widespread interest in this world would grow, also known as Edichi (Ed-ich-kai). in 20 BBY a Clone army arrives to further investigate the artifact and keep it out of CIS hands. Later in the year CIS forces would follow the clones and conflict across Edichi would erupt. In 19 BBY the Confederacy of Independent Systems systematically collapsed in on itself and the Republic had been reformed into the Galactic Empire. Yet the fighting on the surface had not concluded. CIS forces on the planet remained operational, refusing orders, and Clone units had mysteriously failed to receive new directives since shortly after their initial deployment. Edichi had not been short on new arrivals either, crime syndicates had heard whispers of this ‘artifact’ and slowly rooted themselves within cities and urban areas. Even a group of Mandalorians have arrived on the planet, though little is known of their true intentions. By 18 BBY, widespread conflict on the planet had died down. Scattered clone and CIS forces still dotted the planet, but the arrival of Imperial forces on the planet greatly tipped the balance of powers. Soon after the arrival of the Empire onto the surface of Edichi it seemed the systematic extermination of all opposition was inevitable. The enormous amounts of man and material gave Imperial forces an apparent advantage. However, an Imperial expedition to the original structure produced inexplicable consequences. Though specific details are unknown, it seems the expedition found something inside the structure which led to it being completely or partially destroyed under the mountain. In addition to the mysterious destruction of the site, what observers called a ‘pulse’ echoed through the star system. All outer system communication vanished and a multitude of ship based systems, including hyperdrives were rendered completely or partially useless.. All in the system are now alone _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Playable Factions All of the available factions have pros and cons as well as varying levels of equipment and supply. Please keep in mind, since the Edichi system is entirely isolated no help from the galaxy will arrive in any form. An extensive list of each factions equipment can be found here ( https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1UpVniITG3dTJJY_RT2VvkmIjkJjfVte0Cgevr8cx44I/edit?usp=sharing ) Please note that these are not the official faction names, and only ways to identify each faction. In your application you will decide your groups name. Imperial Factions (1-4) Battlegroup 1, Battlegroup 2, Battle group 3, Battle group 4 Republic Remnants (8-10) Remnant 8, Remnant 9, Remnant 10 CIS Holdouts (11) Facility 11 Rebel Factions (5-7) Faction 5, Faction 6, Faction 7 Crime Syndicates (14) Syndicate 14 Mandalorians (12-13) Expedition 12, Expedition 13 __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Heroes Each faction will have a unique character or Hero. These characters do not have to be the leader of your chosen faction, but they can be if you desire. Heroes will play an important role on the field of battle and in the path your faction takes in the overarching story. You will decide what fields your Hero is proficient in as well as their origin and backstory. To design your character, you will have (10) points initially at your disposal to put into any of the following sections. Keep in mind, as the game progresses you will continue to gain points depending on your actions. Basic Skills (Levels cost 1 point a piece) Piloting (1-10) Commanding (1-10) Combat (1-10) Mechanical/Technical Proficiency (1-10) Knowledge (1-10) Diplomacy (1-10) Force Skills (To become force sensitive it costs 8 points) Force Sensitivity [Y/N] - Force Ability (1-10) - Force Combat (1-10) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Application Applications will not be accepted on a first come first serve principle Discord: Faction of Choice: Faction Name: Brief Faction History: Hero Name: Brief Hero backstory: Hero Point Acquisition: Any specific items/equipment request: Suggestions?:

AL-GUL BASIC INFORMATION: NAME: AL-GUL AGE: 35 RACE: HUMAN STATUS: ALIVE NICKNAME: Outlaw SUBRACE: Highlander DESCRIPTION: Body type: ATHLETIC EYE COLOR: DARK BROWN SKIN : WHITE HEIGHT: 6’2 PERSONALITY: Mostly cares about money and himself in situations. Inventory: A small dagger on his side A pouch of money A mask A short blade behind his back

Hi! I'm looking for a player to play my son, please read his details below to see if you are interested! Description of Character A dark-skinned, black hair lad. Son of a southeron and a.. probably farfolk-mix with a large nose. Mother is a 5’6 Southeron by the name of Rivaini Semaili, married to 6’0 Antanios Rutledge. Family resides in Belvitz, yes there is a house. I would prefer if you had MPM, cause it makes things more fun and such. Character Name Medhi S. Rutledge You will receive skin upon due time and acceptance. Preview I swear you’ll get a better skin some day. Application What’s your MC Name? How long have you been a part of this server? Have you played a human child before? Have you ever been interested in playing a human child? How much do you know about Human culture? Would you feel comfortable on your own? Please post the application in the comments! Please post your application in a private message with me!

((Thread deleted , trading is too hard and frustrating))

EVENT REQUEST FORMAT Players/Group Requesting: The Empire of Man, Order of the Red Dragon What kind of Event are you looking for?: I seek to establish a bounty board of monsters that people in the Empire can kill for prestige without us having to break the rules and play them. Approximately, what time/date you want the Event to take place?: To be discussed. Organizer's Discord: Zhulik#7438 NOTES: If this works Temp and Grim get all the credit.

Due to popular demand, I’ve decided to open a skin shop to showcase all my skins for any buyers. Prices: Dress/nohead: 400 Armor/nohead: 800 Dress/withhead: 600 Armor/withhead: 1200 examples: Fill out application: IGName: User: Refrences: What you want: Special notes: Tips?? :’)):

OOC: While I may have left LotC, I still have work to do and thus have overturned my decision to leave LotC. This story is based on semi-canon portions, including what happens when one person uses magic not normally taught or found in LotC and will be a magic I’ll write in the future while I also work on my own project. I hope you enjoy “The Power of the Soul” by TheDragonsRoost. ~(+)==(+)~ Karren had lived many days within the forest where he gave himself the penance. For many days, he lived off of the land and the wildlife that roamed the forest, surviving off of the steak and pork that he collected from the wildlife. He had a lot of chances to leave the forest and be a part of the world once again, but he refused to leave the forest until he had served his penance through. Karren wanted to make sure that no trace of his former self remained and that it wouldn’t ever resurface. He didn’t have the magical power he wanted, but he had learned that some things are better off being done by one’s own hands than using magic. This included the irritating and unreasonable lust for magical power. One thing that his Regeneration had failed to get rid of all those years ago. The sun began to set and Karren, in his ruined clothes, had begun to set a fire near his tent. A small campfire that would become a small beacon to monsters that wished to claim his life. Not that Karren minded, but when he took his penance, he was not aware that monsters roamed the forest at night, willingly stalking their prey before killing them with sharp claws and pointy teeth. Over the years he served his penance, he had a few encounters with such beasts. Karren didn’t have much to his name, but he made do with his surroundings being his weapon. However, this night would turn out to be his last night serving his penance. As he watched the campfire blaze to life, Karren felt his soul warm up as if he could feel the emotions that ran so rampant during his Regeneration. He wasn’t sure why his soul began to warm up in this way, but he’d begin to feel his life slowly ebb away as if his own soul began to burn away his lifeforce, the force that sustains a person’s life. Karren began to feel his body slowly deconstruct itself with an amber glow, which made him scream in pain into the night. This kind of power he felt once before, when he held the Totem of Undying in his hands. It swallowed up his body whole and he became an Ethereal Light for a short time as he felt this strange power flow through him. While he was an Ethereal Light, he felt a strange, yet powerful force drawing him towards Cloud Temple. He knew he wasn’t dead, but this was something that couldn’t be overpowered. Karren followed this strange feeling towards Cloud Temple and once he arrived at Cloud Temple, he felt this power begin to fade and his body beginning to take form once more. He appeared as he did prior to his penance being served, but with some changes. He no longer felt the need for magic and he seemed to grow a bit. He also didn’t see the point in fighting or supporting the September Prince as he felt his mind begin to rewrite itself, almost as if it was reenergized beyond mortal standards. Karren also had begun to go through a massive wardrobe change as well, no longer wearing his green robes and normal clothing, but wearing something entirely different. “Well, this is certainly new...” Karren commented as he’d see his new clothes, completely unsure of what to make of them. Either way, he walked down the steps of Cloud Temple with the new wardrobe change and begin his adventures anew... ~(+)==(+)~ OOC: As I said before, this magic will be a Magic Lore Submission (presumably Deity or Dark Magic, though I’m leaning towards a different style of magic) and I’m thinking that Karren might like his new wardrobe. Anyways, I’ll be coming back to LotC within the next few months and I thought I’d get this started. Will be getting the skin for this made soon! Anyways, see you all in Atlas! -TheDragonsRoost

-=- Dryads -=- Lore Revision Written by ExoticRoleplay -=- Origins -=- Dryads are an ancient species of arboreal creatures who have resided within nature for as long as time has been recorded. Once upon a time, they were considered to be entities of legend, capable of great magical power. Though as their population waxes and wanes in sync with some unknown cycle of the natural world, more and more have come to emerge from the wilds, allowing themselves to be known to those who they deem worthy. Others may choose to permanently reside within their forested homes, far away from the watchful eye of the Descendents. They are aloof, and detached from modern society, acting as watchful guardians over the places they consider to be a piece of their natural domain. -=- The Blossoming -=- No true consensus has ever been reached about how Dryads have been made in present day, or even thousands of years ago. Many believe it is a process that comes naturally embedded within the minds of female Wood Elves, and others of more religious belief may interpret it as a blessing granted by the Earth-Mother Cerridwen. The prior is more commonly believed, but both concepts revolve around an innate connection to nature. The process of becoming a Dryad may begin at the age of five, or eight-hundred. Some women may never feel it at all. To some it can be interpreted as a faint desire to abandon the life they have, to live among the trees as was intended for their people- Away from the strife of war and oppressive governments. For an unfortunate few others, it can be a sort of dream-like geas, where they are mindlessly driven from their homes and into the wilderness, functioning upon their instinct alone to guide them to freedom. It is because of this that young children, or even mothers may one day disappear, never to be seen from again by their family. After leaving home, the prospective Dryad will travel far into the wilds, going beyond the sight of any man-made construction and immersing herself completely within the canopies of the surrounding forests, or rolling hills and mesas. During this process it is very common for the woman to abandon her clothing and personal effects, donning herself in paints, ichors, and plants derived from the soils and plants of her surroundings- After which, she will fall into a comatose state, in which they will wander… Before laying down among the roots of a tree or bush which they are compatible with. There they will remain, their bodies soon overtaken and disappearing beneath the twisted roots, as if being embraced by the earth itself. After being absorbed within the roots of the tree, a thick, magically-infused sap will leech outward and layer over their body, solidifying near instantaneously into a ‘pod’ of solid amber. Here they will be sustained, requiring no form of food or water as they are essentially placed into stasis. This is the first step of a transformation, one which may take anywhere from a week, to a year to complete. The tree during this process will be indiscernible from any other, aside from a difference in vibrancy. Additionally, once this happens, the branches and roots of the tree will refuse to do so much as budge by the hand of a Druid, as the natural bond between them forfeits instead to the Dryad. -=- Dryad Physiology -=- Once emerging from their ‘stasis’, the Dryad may not even appear to be the same person that they once were in the form of their Descendent selves. Their body and soul will have now become one with nature, leading them to develop (ironically) unnatural traits that are similar to those of the plant they bound themselves with, adhering even to the seasons. These changes may be subtle, or they may be defining of the Dryad as a whole. Their skin may become textured or colored similarly to the bark of their tree, with rough patches along the spine and the outsides of their limbs. Or, skin that is fibrous and green. Many Dryads will choose to remain wearing clothing- Though there are some ‘purists’ who will choose to make clothing out of sections of their plant that they manage to harvest- Or those that choose not to wear clothing at all, if their natural biology conceals enough to make them appear modest. For example, a Dryad which binds themselves to a sapling, unless they are a child, may become three to four feet tall. If one binds themselves to a berry or fruit tree, they may sprout flowers that become those respective fruits. Their spit may become sap, and they may cry nectar- And they may even be host to the same insects as their tree, like butterflies. On another hand, they can always embody other natural aspects, such as sprouting antlers or horns of wood, and deer-like legs comprised of flexible wood and bark. Dryads truly are a versatile race of people, though it all depends on the nature of what plants they bind themselves to. In addition to the physical alterations that they receive from their transformation, Dryads will also change mentally. In doing so, they may become more aloof and carefree. In fact, almost every Dryad is impartial and pacifistic- Unless it comes to protecting their lands, of course. There are some Dryads who will be entirely untrusting of any person other than members of their own race, and will hide their distaste for the other races behind a facade of airheadedness, to make themselves seem less of a threat… Then again, there are some Dryads who are just as dimwitted as any normal person. So they do truly vary. A Dryad will instinctively know how to return to her tree, as her soul is tethered to it. She feels as it feels- The changes in the soil, such as drought. When the tree is struck by an axe, it will feel similarly to being stabbed to the Dryad, regardless of how far she may be from it. If the plant is destroyed, then it shall wither away rapidly- Leaving the seed permanently buried beneath the earth until the Dryad is able to retrieve it once again. Additionally, fellow Dryads will consider one another as blood-siblings, more so than their real siblings. -0- Bonsai Dryads -o- There are only three known circumstances in which a Dryad will be reborn as what has been affectionately referred two as a ‘bonsai’. Named after the Farlander tradition of pruning a plant’s roots and branches to prevent growth, these Dryads tend most often to be connected to host plants which they purposely stunt the growth of. Pruning one’s plant is considered to be a horrifically painful process, as the Dryad feels all of what their plant feels- So it would essentially equate to feeling as if one’s own fingers were being severed with each clip of their roots. The only way to go through this process purposely without inflicting pain is for one to either reshape the roots using their own control over the plant, or to explicitly ask it not to take in nutrients- Thus, causing it to remain in a smaller state. This is most often considered a selfish process, as it does not allow the plant to truly grow. The only exception to this, is if one was a child prior to transformation, or a fully-grown Dryad binds themselves to an immature plant- Causing them to revert into a smaller form of about 3’-4’. Bonsai Dryads are viewed by other Dryads as the sort of ‘beloved little sisters’, but to others they can be seen as a nuisance, due to their immaturity and rambunctious nature. As the plant ages, so will the Dryad, going through the natural cycle of their life before coming fully grown. This can only be reverted if they reattune to a smaller plant. -=- Connection to Nature -=- There is a countless number of plants that Dryads can originate from, though typically it is limited to those which can be classified as trees or bushes. Sometimes they may be as mundane as a juniper bush, or as massive as a redwood tree. Though it is usually always something that grows at least to the height of over three feet, not length (like vines). There may be circumstances in which a Dryad may link to a tree of magical nature, which creates a breed all of its own. This is typically not the case however, as the bond is only compatible with natural plants, unless they are formed with some sort of Druidic magic. The abilities of a Dryad are similar to those of a Druid, however they are focused with the intent of communicating and coexisting within nature, rather than restoring it. When in range of their tree or plant, they are able to commune with it- And control it, in a way similar to the Druids, gaining the ability to bend its branches and roots as if they were extensions of themselves. In this regard, it is better to think of their bonded plant as another, sentient person. As anything that it is ‘made’ to do, by proxy, will be through asking permission to do so- Like how some Dryads may request their trees to dig out a section beneath their roots for living space. They can not do anything that is physically unreasonable though, such as turning massive branches ninety degrees- As this will obviously harm almost any tree. However, they can increase the rate in which the blooming of fruits and flowers on their plant happens, though it requires an almost meditative focus. In fact, this is how many Dryads tend to sustain their diet- Though, they still do retain normal dietary preferences aside from this. When a Dryad is killed, they may be subject to simply ‘regrowing’ at the base of their plant, with a lack of memory of what occurred leading up to their death, as one expects. They may also do such a thing known as ‘Melding’, in which they sink through the surface of their tree where allowed, and remain hidden away. -=- The Amber Seed -=- After completing their transformation, the amber which surrounded the Dryad during the process of their change soaks back into the surrounding soil, save for a singular piece which can only be seen from beneath the roots of the tree- Embedded in the underside of the trunk similarly to the mouth of an octopus, amid the tendril-like roots. This ovular piece of amber is typically the size of a large apple- And incredibly dense. It is lost upon anybody what its true intention is- As they are coveted by the Dryads. Not even the close relatives of the former Elf would be allowed near it, without facing some sort of forcible removal from the area. It isn’t even entirely certain what the object is to the Dryad themselves. Referred to as an Amber Seed by those who are unassociated to the Dryads, this hefty, glowing gem is usually centered with decorative markings, or filled with mixtures of sprigs, seeds, or fruits. It will refuse to leave where it lies by the hand of anybody other than the Dryad which owns it- And is indestructible by any normal means. There is only two circumstances in which the Seed will require moving, and those are when a Dryad unattunes themselves from nature, or when the Dryad much relocate to a safer region, in the case of natural disaster or any form of colonization of the region, if she can not fight it off herself. When a Dryad removes the Seed from her tree, it will begin to wither and die. Though in the case of relocation, this is more-so a momentary goodbye, as within her hands she holds the only thing that can restore her bond to nature. A Dryad may travel several days or weeks before settling on a perfect location- During which she will be inseparable from her Seed, literally and metaphorically. It will remain embedded into the center of their breast, unable to be removed unless one were to kill them. At which point, it would simply crumble into a mundane, glass-like dust along with the rest of her body- Causing her to awaken among the wilds once again, with no memory of what had occurred. At the end of her travels, the Dryad may find a place to plant her Seed once more, at which point her beloved plant will begin to sprout once again. Unlike the countless years beforehand which it took to grow, a tree or bush may regrow to its original size in a matter of a month- Much to the shock of the surrounding wildlife. There does however exist an exception to this. In the circumstance that a Dryad is unable to find a suitable placement for her Seed, she may embed it among the roots of another plant along with herself, going through another cycle of rebirth in which she adopts the features of her new host. At some point, the Dryad’s original plant may grow too old, at which point it will begin to die- Regardless of the intervention of magic or healing. At which point the Dryad will have to find another plant. -=- Reversion to Elfism -=- There may be a point in which the Dryad can no longer maintain their connection to their tree- by their own choice or otherwise. When this occurs, the Dryad can retrieve their Amber Seed. After a couple of weeks of not having replanted their seed, the Dryad’s features will begin to be stripped from them. Each morning they wake up, they will find more sections of their bark-like skin having been replaced with flesh. Leaves may become hair once again, and after a certain point- Their Seed will finally release itself from the chest of the Dryad, glowing dim. By now, the plant they had been bound previously will have disintegrated to nothingness. Each day that passes however, they will grow fonder of their tree, and desire be around it- An instinct that would require being ignored if one were to truly wish to release themselves from the responsibilities of being a Dryad- Which isn’t common, but may happen if one truly desires to return to their former lives- Which they typically hold no obligation to do. The Amber Seed at this point will have been considered to be inactive. Many former Dryads choose to wear it as an adornment, or hide it away in a chest- As they feel an undying fondness to have it around them or in their hands, as one would treat a child. After a certain point the Seed will reawaken, glowing as brightly as it once did. Only then can it be replanted for the Dryad to resume their bond, unless they genuinely repent to the Aspects beforehand. The realm is a place of strife however. And surprisingly, an inability to replant is actually the least likely reason that many Dryads are disconnected from nature. Just like any other mortal race, Dryads are capable of contracting curses and parasites- Though they can not become undead. If a Dryad happens to be touched by a Fjarriauga Mother, or a Shade Father, the respective curses will root themselves in the body and soul of the Dryad just as any other person. Their bodies will react much more violently to the corruption however, and they may become physically ill, more than what is predicted for the process of transformation. If one were to become a Shade, their tree will begin to rot and turn black- Similarly to the parts of their body which once embodied their tree. If one becomes a Frost Witch, their tree will begin to freeze over, as if going through a black winter. The leaves gracing their tree will fall, and their skin will become brittle. If the normal processes for curing are not sought out, they will eventually succumb and become these cursed entities. They will lose their attunement to nature- And in doing so, their soul will feel shattered, as if a piece of them had been irrevocably torn away, their Amber Seed will simply dissolve into ash. -=- Redlines -=- -0- The Transformation Process -o- -0- Dryad Appearance and Physiology -o- -0- Dryad Mentality -o-

We Want YOUR Screenshots! A lot of Orcish RP revolves around the Spirits & Ancestors, and particularly our ways of worshipping them. You’ll often hear a victorious Orc praising his chosen Spirit, or a Orc returning from a hunt dedicating his trophy to Votar. Unfortunately, few track our progress, and thus our Shamans cannot keep RP the Spirits or Ancestors being happy with an Orc’s dedication during the Spirit walks. So, if you ever construct a Shrine, sacrifice an Elf, dedicate a victory or in any other way please your chosen Spirit or Ancestor, send the screenshot in the comments. That way the rest of the Orcish community can share in your victory, and our Shamans can keep an eye on who is most active. Who knows, maybe one-day your fanaticism to Laklul could please the swampy boi and make you devote to his name, and give you Roleplay buffs. Here’s an example of why you may want to keep track of your dedications to a Spirit or Ancestor:

OOC: This is a canon story to Karren Mrysta, my main elf character, and his personal journey through the world of Atlas. “Delving into the Dark” is meant to be the end of his second chapter and this marks him being shelved for an undetermined amount of time. Chapter Three will begin once I decide to unshelf the character. The premise of this story is to tell Karren’s transitioning into madness for magical power that has begun to take over his mind, consuming him to the point where not even the deity Zarelek would grant him the powers of Oblivion. Karren’s inability to accept who he is and forceful change has begun to make him go mad with lust for power, wanting powerful magics in order to stop the September Prince and yet has made him an outcast. Find out more in “Delving into the Dark” by TheDragonsRoost. ~(+)==(+)~ Karren Myrsta felt like everything was crashing down around him. The feelings he thought he was rid of during the Regeneration have come back in full force, tearing him up in his mind to the point that he began to suffer drastic physical changes. He no longer had beautiful wavy silver hair, instead had ragged and unclean silver hair that seemed to carry a great amount of stress. His eyes no longer had their vibrant emerald green color, but yet were prematurely growing dimmer. His clothes became dirty and unclean, making him look like a rugged homeless person than a proper high elf. In the short and brass terms, he looked like ****. In the growing dimness of his own campfire within the southern portion of the continent of Atlas, he started to reflect upon his choices that he had made that led him to what he was in the present time. Karren reflected upon his choices in the Mother Grove, Dominion of Malin, Haelun’or, and many other places to where he felt he had wronged himself and many others in his pursuit of power. He sighed as he stared into his campfire, which grew dimmer every minute that passed. “It seems that I have done a great many things. Too many things.” He said to himself, leaning over to his bag and pulling out a bundle of papers with a bunch of diagrams and mathematical equations. It seemed to be his research. “All for this. The most useless thing I’ve spent years to complete and I am no further than where I was at four years ago.” Karren looked over his research as he’d undo the twine that bound the papers together, slowly and carefully. He sighed as he poured over the papers and said simply “I wish I never started this. This has caused me too much heartache and has made me something that I could never be. Arelion was right. I’m not worth being taught magic.” He did not need more convincing than what he felt. He soon tossed the papers into the fire and watched as the fire grew a tad brighter as it happily consumed the research that Karren had given it. Karren, however, did not feel any better for tossing the papers into the dimming fire. He just stared into the fire as it produced more heat from consuming the papers, warming himself up from the growing coldness of the night. It would also be Karren’s last campfire for a long time as Karren decided to go into his tent and get some sleep. What Karren did not realize was that this led to him live in that same forest for a long time, hunting and feeding off the natural wildlife for years to come as a sort of self-induced penance for his “crimes” of lusting for power. ~(+)==(+)~ Zarelek watched through his Ethyrian Star of what Karren had done and he was outright annoyed. He had wasted that time on that boy just for him to burn his research to ashes, rendering him unable to learn his magic. Within the Realm of Oblivion, Zarelek nearly made his castle rumble with his anger and annoyance towards the high elf, but he caught himself and restrained his anger and annoyance. “That boy is smarter than I thought, destroying his research.” Zarelek said to himself, his voice echoing throughout the throne room. “But still quite idiotic. This decision has made me decide to best put my efforts elsewhere. Someone that has the same aura, but not wanting power or at least lusting for it like this foolish mortal elf.” Zarelek sighed as he used his powers to curse the high elf to stay within the forest for a time that he would let him free, punishing him for his lust for power and proving to be unworthy to wield the powers of Oblivion. He did not feel the slightest bit of guilt for keeping the boy locked up within the forest, but he was not truly angry with the boy. Once he casted the spell, he introduced a few clauses into the spell that bound him to the forest, and all of them were pretty simple. He only needed to repent from his ways of lusting for power, serve his penance for proving to be unworthy, and spend his whole penance in isolation from civilization. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the boy to serve out his time within isolation, but then again, even he was not all-powerful or all-knowing. He leaned back into his throne, sighing a bit and saying to himself “Now, who in Atlas shall I distribute my efforts towards? The warring humans? The peaceful halflings of Dunshire, perhaps? No,” he’d say to himself, looking at his Ehtyrian Star once more. He had an idea brewing in his mind for a particular person he saw once. While observing the world of Atlas, he came across a particular mali’ker. He didn’t have the prismatic aura he was looking for, but he had this bright vibrant emerald green aura, almost the same as his own. He didn’t understand much about this mali’ker, but from he knew, this dark elf (mali’ker) was a bastard son of one of the tribes in the Warhawkes. His knowledge of the Warhawkes did not extend thousands of years, but he knew that they emerged within the last few hundred years. He stroked his chin while he thought of what this mali’ker was able to do. During one of his sessions, he spotted this mali’ker while he was talking to his young high elf boy, who seemed to be around thirteen solar rotations old (13 years old) and how he attempted to defend the child from the dark mage that altered the boy’s soul, granting him the power to set things aflame. Zarelek was aware of the spell used on the poor boy and he knew that it would last quite some time, but would forever alter the boy’s soul. This didn’t hinder the boy from learning much magic, but he wouldn’t be able to learn druidic powers even if he wanted to due to the soul being altered. Zarelek clapped his hands one time and rubbed them together, saying with a small amount of glee “This mali’ker is whom I shall oversee. Perhaps even attempt to teach him the magic of Oblivion, but however, I must keep my influence small lest I wish to have the boy notice that he has my attention. This means I cannot make the same mistakes I made with that high elf with this mali’ker boy. Let us see how this boy handles his daily life and its challenges...” This began Zarelek’s own round of testing the boy. Seeing if he will prove adequate enough to be taught the magic of Oblivion. ~(+)==(+)~ OOC: (For the LT) Even if Zarelek isn’t accepted yet, I feel like he is a good character to have in my stories and thus shouldn’t be considered canon to the deity’s story until being accepted. Also, this means that for the time being, Oblivion Magic (and the relevant instant t5) will go to my dark elf character if the magic of Oblivion ends up being accepted alongside with the deity. This isn’t meant to be one of those “oh your just making special magic for your characters to make yourself more powerful” situations, but merely a narrative of Karren’s and Zarelek’s story. (For everyone else) I hope you enjoyed “Delving into the Dark” as there will be more stories to come in the Creative Writing section.

Karren Myrsta had lived a peaceful life within the town of Caras Eldar before he ultimately left the Dominion of Malin and ventured to the most southern regions, avoiding raiders and bandits along the road to a small human colony called Austrasia. He arrived to Austrasia, starving to death, when his friend Nenar came through the gates and gave him pieces of bread for him to feed upon and gain his strength back. He had a charismatic charm to his kind soul as if his soul burned with an intensity that allowed him access to a very special kind of magic that not everyone understands. This kind of magic cannot be taught by anyone or found in a musty old tome full of ancient diagrams and written words of those long past gone, but yet all the people know of it. It allows access to the greatest ideas and allows for innovators of both scientifical and magical origins to create things that no one has ever seen before. To allow for the greatest of heroes to be forged in the coming days of Atlas and even make things come from the parchment to life. From the smallest halfling to the biggest orc, this magic flows through all people of any origin or culture, unbound by the restrictions of magic and burns within the person's soul without being quenched by the darkness of Dark Magic or being amplified by those of Holy origin. This magic allows for new beginnings, creation of eras in both magical and scientific progression, and can even unify a people determined to live together in harmony. He never allowed himself to be down when it mattered. Karren had a special kind of heart that meant he could move the stars themselves in order to save his friends. He felt that power surge within him, even as he tried so hard to obtain magic to only never gain magic. As a young child, Karren was endlessly fascinated by the prospects of innovation and utilizing magical energy to help others than just himself. No matter how hard he tried to gain magic of any kind whether it be Shade, Voidal Evocation, or even Druidism, he never truly wanted that magic for himself. He never craved power just for the sake of power, but he craved power to help others. He didn't wish to cause others harm or let harm befall those he believed or knew were innocent. He wanted to be a role model for the children and to give them that sense of wonder he himself carries. He wanted to push beyond the cultural differences of the magical types and let his own self feel the magic that burned within his soul be his guide to being someone that he knew he could be. Now, he still hopes to achieve that goal. Even though he is now sixty-one years old, Karren still believes in the magic of Hope. [OOC] This is meant to be a creative writing story that is canon to my character's personal story, but not known in-character. Please do not metagame any of this information.