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Found 6 results

  1. Hello Fellow LOTCERS Time has come again where I've overloaded on self skins that i need to let go, which is why I bring to you this amazing skin auction- for uh, females. I'm going to keep it short, I've made too many skins. Do i love these skins? Yes. But do i need mina more? Yes ! :D This auction will end at 10 CST on Sunday the 31st of January. So heads start at 30, and clothing will start at 50 , and you bid by increments of 10+ Happy Bidding! -Latte <3 <3 BIDDING FORMAT: (Quote the previous bidder) IGN: SKIN/S: DISCORD: BID: Flower Crown babe: Blue Pirate: Purple Regalia: Soft Spring: Cottage Core: Green Monk: Ruby Red: Air Bender Blue: Renaissance Rouge: Scandinavian Elfess (HAIR AND DRESS SEPERATE, Though, you could buy both for 85):
  2. ATTENTION MEN! Today is the start of you taking back what you have built! You! Who spent 30 years of your life slinking as a muzzy mule for the ample wheat that shushes the bellies of NOT your own family! You! Who lost your eye and thirty of your friends for the ISA, only to find you are last in line for the Emperor's deflated bosom, and not even a vinegary droplet awaits your parched throat at the suckle of his calloused teet! And you! Who writes the night away by the grace of a camper's lamp before brushing one-thousand times each side the powdered wig of the signature of your genius! I do say that YOU men are the true builders of the empire! And yet, before us there are plodding, pea-brained slobs and WOMEN in charge! Why, just the other day I made a harmless comment to a woman concerning her breasts, and I was harassed by a rogue automaton! Thank goodness the ISA came when they did, only... The new Solicitor General is a WOMAN, and therefor I suffered the wrath of her warped, womanly emotions and constant struggle with inadequacy, as well as being (conveniently enough) the cousin of the female I had commented on the breasts of earlier on. So... NOT 'thank goodness the ISA came when they did,' because the violent metal abomination (who was my molester) was set free and, get this, I was taken to jail and filed with made-up charges that I can only assume were inspired by the Solicitor General’s revenge-fantasy journal she'd written when her beau went away at the girth of her thigh. I had to pay a fine of 100 mina, that no doubt went directly into her pocketbook, just to stop the beating and harassment! It was no doubt, I had decided, Ophelia's 'lady-week.' We have coined the term, "feminism." It's meaning? "... When females contradictorily try to prove they are better than men by becoming men themselves; oftentimes, in very obnoxious ways." It is a phenomenon in our time, for this is what happens when the blumbering buffoons in office give women (with all sorts of mixed up ideas in their heads; using fancy words such as, “self-esteem”), their way. A change must be made. We, good men, are the last bit of the realm that still believe in integrity. We call ourselves, The Sir Humphrey Party. Lead by our brave and noble leader who, at this time, prefers to remain anonymous. Those who wish to join the revolution, please seek us out discreetly. Many thanks! - Sir Humphrey
  3. Even-Out Evening 11th of Snow's Maiden, Year 3 of The Second Age Video Première link : Our last public announcement yielded great success, with those on ‘the band of the hours’ side giving a thunderous standing ovation. Cheering our name in the streets as we at last redistributed the surplus amount of wealth to those in need of it, while also liberating them from the shackles of society. No longer will the oppressors of these lands turn their noses up and look down upon the common man, for they will soon be eating alongside their unfortunate necessitous peers. To do this, another plan had to be devised, to show the hard-working that our group of mere men will stop at nothing to bring the pigs to heel. Our men were once wallowing in the depths of society too, by your side, yet they raised their consciousness from the bottomless abyss. To ensure that nobody would have to live like them again, underneath the frilly heel of a pompous Nobleman. At long last sticking at nothing until a true to man societal reform is put into place, not a true to nobleman reform. They are the outnumbered ones in this world, yet they still feel so inclined to treat us without regard. Thus, in no more than a singular winter’s night, a plan was hatched. ACT 1 - The Bank Heist The plan was as plain as a picture book; for the foe was as easy to read as a three year olds idle scribblings. Their discipline is similar to that of the crayons colored outside of the lines in a picture book. We were to steal as many of their tax slips as possible, handing them out to the backbone of their nation thereafter, the farmers. So with talk of their military gloating about a singular, yet entirely false killing of one of our comrades, we knew that we had to return them from their childlike fantasy; the reality in which we controlled. Due to bolstering our five champions, myself included, not one intruding thought passed through our minds as we strode into the bustling city, when it was most alive. Upon entering the city, distant clashes of metal and inept barking were easily discerned by our five. The Imperial State Army was in the midst of conducting their typical improper training. Then within half of a second, our leader echoed his voice to make himself known to those dwelling inside of their grandiose yet compensating haunt. Hurtling into the bank after, two of us hovered over the rest with torches while they set about cracking into their many safes. Before we knew it, the bank was surrounded by the Empire’s trembling soldiers, all donning scarlet red. We hastily departed from their governmental building, being greeted by the named army at hand. We knew from our last raid there was nothing in the slightest to fret about, as numbers mean little if incompetency is the only thing your army is renowned for. So we stood there, without a singular bead of sweat upon our brows, our shoulders straight and chests out. As the Imperial State Army fumbled into ranks, we yet noticed that not one of their soldiers could yet equal our mens heights, not even if one were to stand on another's shoulders. Our up-and-coming companion, who was new to the company, uttered lowly, “My comrade, they have thrice our numbers.” Lacking a second inbetween, our leader responded with “Yes,” his voice sounding both resonant and composed. For half an hour, our group ran their horde around their own city, hurling our torches towards buildings that had previously been marked on the eve before. Hopscotching from wall to wall subsequently, our destination had been found without a singular scratch showing on our bodies. Once we had climbed down from their tallest wall of all, we reached to our sides and all pulled our flasks into our grasps. We cheered and clinked our drinks together, while the soldiers above contemplated saving their buildings or giving chase to our smaller force. One eager rapscallion, foaming at the mouth and hair dripping off his head as though a razor had been taken to it slipped. This was the fault of none other than a well-placed banana peel, all according to plan. The other soldiers, mistaking a genuine slip for some form of leadership, followed suit, and plummeted into the field. Their leadership needed to show that their city was safe, they could not simply allow mere freedom fighters to combat them again and triumph. The people of Providence fund them, yet in every circumstance their funding is misplaced. So it was their time to shine, to prove their worth in a time so vital, and shine they did. Not in triumph, no. Not in mere stalemate either. They shined in waves of their own flickering blood, all cut down and put to rest. Each of them sharing a blood-curdling scream, as they clawed at the walls that were supposed to protect them. There was nothing to save them from it all, they might have stuck together at first but they shattered at the first sign of loss. They were so displaced from the initial charge, that our men frolicked between them without being impeded, the red tide mistaking foe for friend. After hearing the jaw of their General crack under the pressure of ‘Ts’ steel-lined boot, their swarm lost all composure and dispersed like lambs running away from a wolf. Their feet could not be trusted either, being effortlessly caught up to and crushed by the infamous ‘roadrunners’. Their numbers continued to grow thinner and thinner, much like the hairlines of the sharks at the very top of the inferior scarlet army. They did not stand a chance. Outmatched by our tacticians and outdone by the unparalleled synergy of our men, the ISA realised that outside of their imposing walls, they are nothing and will never be anything besides training dummies for their betters. There was not a thing that could have saved them from the outside, their weak mental strength faltering as soon as they tasted the fresh and free air outside. That ends the tail of the butchering of the Imperial Army, yet, not a singular simple man was hurt that day. I propose you cease in paying their wages and instead invest in more gardens, for flowers give as much protection as the ISA can provide. Perhaps then, we shall see a smile upon General Peter Baldwin D’Arkent’s face. ACT 2 - Dark Elf Liberation While the named group above was occupied laying an entire army to rest, another group of like-minded individuals was picked for a similar task. This army was larger though, to everyone's surprise, proved much more primitive and further intellectually incapable. Laying low in a thicket just off of the capital of Elvensse, the group lay their eyes upon a predetermined figure, another oppressor of the people. No minute was made to waste, so they darted after him and dragged him to a steep cliffside, where a boat was waiting for their arrival. Just as they had arrived, in the course of traipsing down to their port of call, an army almost four times the size of our force met them. They were cornered upon all sides, the steep cliffside lingering behind them and the Wood Elven army bearing arms in front of them. The Elves all had vicious smirks spread across their thinned lips, yet they soon curtailed and contorted into angst frowns. Our men had all taken a second of silence before plunging from the cliffside and into the dangerous waters; leaps of faith. If a passerby was to roam by, they would have screamed bloody mary and proclaimed it a mass suicide. Fortunately it was not the case, the group plunged deep and raised to the surface within moments, all drawing thin and shattered breaths. With their hearts in their mouths, they tread the water and looked up in disbelief as the opposing soldiers started to rain from the sky. It was an impulsive decision quite clearly from their lesser-trained military, all plopping into the water, but more so diving into death’s door. Just like sharks to fish, the Ferryman at the top of their chain pulled the dagger-eared men one by one under the water. In which a minute would pass before a body would float to the surface in a puddle of blood. The weak-chinned Elves began to panic, already realising that certain defeat was guraunteed. It was magic, seeing such a force disappear in no more than five minutes. However, their force had not been the only thing to have faded away, as our kidnapped target had given into death. We might have lost a valuable hostage, but the spoils gathered were greater than the price paid for any singular Elf; feeding the mouths of many. It is time for revolution friends. Do not give into the listed oppression and allow us Ferryman to lead the charge, for our minds lie with you, not ourselves. We hope to see you, common men and women, at our side when the evening comes. The evening where every palace on this realm is plundered. We will tear the golden coating from their pillars and provide some good in this shallow world. Written by: Dyselxic
  4. Buck hastily throws today's buck news to everyone in crumpled balls.
  5. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________________________________ This is just a simple little page I've put together with examples of my skins! My PMC Scroll down and open the spoilers to reveal the examples. :0 Latest: Edits made: -Added 'Other' spoiler -Requests Closed -PMC added -Halfling and human spoilers added. Request Form: CLOSED Username- Description- Ref- What will you pay with? (Mina, items, etc)- CLOSED..
  6. *A missive is spread throughout the land. To all cities, states, corners and edges of the civilized world. Pinned on boards and taped to walls, it is visible to all.* The Dragons' Guard The House of Horen seeks the strongest, brightest, and most dedicated men and women to serve under its banner. To brave the harsh cold of the north and defend the hardy people therein. To safeguard the city of Ayr, and the grand keep of Edmund’s Watch. Why Join? -To serve under one of the oldest and most noble families known to the realm. -To find fulfillment in protecting the innocent, and in turn serving humanity. -To gain the admiration of all your peers. -To call the soon-to-be keep of Edmund’s Watch your home, if you so desire. -To hone your skills as a soldier and kickstart your career as a man-at-arms. -To be free of prejudice under the watchful eyes of Peter and Robert Horen. How to Join: If you wish to reap the benefits listed above, and prove your worth, you need only send a letter to Robert Horen ((Kowaman/Namawok)) including the following ((Reply to the thread or PM)): - Your Name: Your Experience: What you can Contribute / Your Skills: - *At the bottom of each missive is a stamp of green wax, emblazened with the Horenian insignia. Beside it, are the signatures of Robert and Peter Horen.* Regards, Peter Horen & Robert Horen
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