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Found 29 results

  1. (CA Race Grouping D – Magic Endgame) Origin/Background/Culture Dresdrasil, The Deity of The Depths; Meant to stay hidden forever beneath the waves. When parts and pieces were discovered, they tainted and corrupted the man that found them, twisting his mind and soul beyond recognition. Causing them to crave Dresdrasil’s remains; any scrap, piece, of influence or power left behind after death. With this power, the first Tidesages used brine; lifeforce and darkwater to wreak whatever havoc they would have wished. However, alongside the corruption of the natural order, and exposure to significant usage of brine; the Tidesages slowly began to further warp than what they had already become unrecognizable from. Their mortal forms, distorted further, experimentation began upon extended effects of significant exposure to brine. Amorphous amalgams of eyes, teeth and warped screaming as the first Tidesages were sacrificed to see Brine’s horrible effects upon the mortal form. After practice and perfection with many failures, a stable half-breed, born of the unholy abyss and the perfection of the four brothers; incomplete and impure. The Drowned of Tidesages are revered as dedicated, forever to Thallassos and the bidding of their fellow Tidesages. Finding themselves immunized to the faults of the mortal form in exposure of the abyss, Drowned have difficulty blending back in to their previous lives, for their sacrifice made to other Tidesages. Physical Description Drowned typically retain the features of their previous race, however taking on a few different modifications. Always, Drowned are on the shorter end of average height for their race- precisely maybe two or three inches above the minimum. Their strength is unimpaired, typically varying person to person; however not being able to become above the peak of their original race. A Drowned’s skin drains of natural colour, typically staying within shades of white to black, rarely a deep sea green or blue. The skin aswell moistens and becomes reminiscent of a soft and squishy membrane, which oozes water some when pressure is applied. The Drowned will have gills appear on their neck and/or ribs, either deep rake-like slits or something like fluttery external gills. Aswell a Drowned may have parts of their body, the limbs most specifically, take on chitin or scalid appearance which provide marginal natural armour and defense. A Drowned’s hair would become thick and wavy, however dirtied and almost moist as it would stick and cling to surfaces, and would be slimy to the touch. Their eyes would vary from absolute-black to a glowing yellow, or even a pale and milky white with no visible pupil or iris. Their teeth and nails would harden significantly, similar to iron in their durability and strength but taking on an almost fibrous appearance. Drowned are susceptible to damage as they were in their normal form, however their blood taking on an inky colour and a consistency similar to gelatin, which would coagulate rather easily. Aswell, prolonged periods of dry exposure would damage and crack all features of a Drowned, likely significantly painful and exhausting. Sudden magical flame or heat would bear no effect on a Drowned however, but mundane or natural flame and raised heat would render them uncomfortable; but not particularly weak. Mental Description Mindset A Drowned would have their mindset twist from mortal desires and they would often be sat almost awaiting a purpose. Drowned often make a purpose for themselves, or follow the goals and intuition of other Tidesages in order to gain true focus and understanding. A Drowned is often plagued with thoughts they cannot perceive or understand. Mental State Deep sounds of typically extremely low pitches constantly torment the mind of The Drowned, ranging between 20-60Hz constantly giving a vibrating sensation to the ears of a low sound that was everpresent. Sometimes it was louder and more violent, typically when a Drowned was in danger; this would provide significant mental wear for the first few weeks after their drowning as they accustom to the new sound. Often this may terrify even dedicated Tidesages as the unknown now directly calls to them, and the sounds of the abyss are foretold right to them; subjectively and objectively completely inable to understand such whatsoever. Alongside such, the initial experience of drowning in brine is incredibly exhausting and painful, and would take wear as the user near-experiences death and transformation at a rapid rate, likely giving them a feeling of incompleteness and emptiness as they narrowly avoid death. A Drowned would feel sympathetic to a point with another Drowned, and especially toward Philios; almost viewing them on a brotherly scale and level, which is reciprocated by them in minutely human ways. Below are examples of sounds that may be heard by a Drowned at a frequent. Abilities Gills (Passive) Description: Granted by necessity, transformation of the body during drowning allows for gills on the sides of the neck and the serratus anterior. These gills intake both water and air; a signature of a Drowned’s halfbred makeup. Mechanics: A Drowned has gills upon their neck, and optionally the sides of their chest which function to breathe air and water. Redlines - A Drowned’s previous lungs continue to function, however only in the case of air. - A Drowned wearing clothes is not suffocated as they can continue manual ventilation through their nose or mouth. - A Drowned’s gills can intake and process air Eyes of The Abyss (Passive) Description: Requiring vision within dark caves and murky depths, a Drowned is able to see in such conditions similar to their aquatic bretheren. Mechanics: A Drowned has bioluminescent eyes that can range from dim to fiercely bright, and is able to see perfectly clear in darkness, underwater or not. Aswell, a Drowned becomes immune to particulate coming before one’s eye. Redlines - If the darkness is magically induced, Eyes of The Abyss does not see through such. - Eyes of The Abyss does not replace eyes lost or damaged. Skin of The Lurker (Passive) Description: Required by a Philios or any creature of the Abyss to return to their home, they need immunity to the changes in pressurization. This makes a Drowned’s skin clammy and moist, their blood cold. Mechanics: A Drowned’s skin may become chitinous or scalid in some parts, and would render them immune to changes in barometric pressure or minorly cold temperature. Their blood would become cold, and their skin reflecting the temperature of the environment around them. Redlines - Magically induced coldness would still have effect on a Drowned. - Land Temperatures breaching below freezing (0C or 32F) or above extremely hot (38C or 100F) would take a rapidly exhaustive effect upon a Drowned, requiring them to artificially heat or cool themselves. Weapons of The Lady (Active, Noncombat and Combat) Description: Requiring natural defense, on the whim of a Drowned they may calcify and extend their fibrous nails, teeth, and skin to fight. Similar to a Philios, they would have impaired function because of such. Mechanics: After one emote of transformation, A Drowned would have the nails of their extremities, teeth, and skin harden to enhance combat capability. Their teeth and nails would have the internal strength of iron, and would extend a maximum of six inches. Their skin would toughen, but by no means as strong as any armour. Redlines - A Drowned with Weapons of The Lady would be impaired as expected by their enhanced capability- unable to wield weaponry or speak properly. - Weapons of The Lady enhanced weaponry is considered ‘iron’ in durability and strength. - Weapons of The Lady enhanced skin is considered ‘tough skin’, not necessarily equating to the strength of any armour. Call of The Siren (Active) Description: As a way to lure prey, a Drowned would sing harmonically to capture an unsuspecting and curious victim which mirrors tales of old. Mechanics: A Drowned may sing and enchant those surrounding to entice them to come closer or to lure them in, in an incredibly harmonic and angelic voice which was pleasant for all to hear. Redlines - Call of The Siren overlaps Weapons of The Lady, allowing one to speak perfectly clear. - Call of The Siren does not magically ‘charm’ those nearby forcefully, merely encouraging. Lament of The Deep (Passive) Description: Bearing such striking and incredible similarity to a Philios anatomically, a Drowned would take on the burden of a previous Poiema, or a new one, and bear the conscious of a Philios within their mind. Mechanics: By connecting by touch to a Philios, one would be able to store their conscious within themselves; bearing it as a second mind and thought that spoke to them, and witnessed what they had. If the Philios they bore conscious to were to die, they may be able to transfer their consciousness back into a new Philios to keep previous connection and memory. Redlines - If The Drowned were to die, so too would the saved conscious of The Philios. - One would not be able to telepathically send information, and a Philios would be able to witness it’s own death through the eyes of The Drowned - The Drowned may not swap consciousness with a Philios. General Red lines/Restrictions - A Drowned is obviously incompatible with any other CA. - A Drowned would continue to stay a Drowned if they were to drop or be purged from Thallassos. - A Drowned is sterile and could not reproduce in any capacity. - A Drowned does not gain any benefit from Poiemas. - A Drowned may still utilize any magic which they could previously get as a Tidesage with a corrupted soul. - A Drowned cannot have their affliction purged, cured, or removed magically or medically. - A Drowned is considered by all purposes coldblooded, and considered a descendant with a corrupted soul. - A Philios would never by any circumstance bring harm or inconvenience to a drowned. - A Drowned may wear clothes and armour just as before. Purpose (OOC) Drowned are a cool and critical minor-endgame to Thallassos that make an interesting addition to the lore and the server, while not wildly different than someone normal to be unrecognizable- they are a representation of the corruption of the magic, and the minor boons granted by such which make an interesting way to take the lore. Unlike a more advanced form, a Drowned is almost an entirely aesthetic representation of a Thallassos experienced and using the magic; taking aspects of The Philios they command and other Abyssal life. Citation Spoiler
  2. The Call to Victory Written by Hraaken Underhammer, To every living descendant across Arcas. [Music] Where the Dwarves rest did a lone candle streak through the inky darkness. No forge was lit, no hammer rung, only blackness occasionally interrupted by the dim glow of bubbling magma below. An armored figure marched up the winding spiral of Kal-Evraal barely illuminated by the flicker of a lit wick. Shortly after did Hraaken Underhammer finally arrive in the clergy hall where a few other lit candles welcomed his own. As he entered the main chamber, Hraaken could see the High Preceptor passed out at a desk to his right, buried in parchments and books detailing the gods and times of old. To Hraaken’s left, Kazrin the Brown sat silently regarding him as the rest of the city slept restlessly, their uncertainty resounding through the quiet caverns. Hraaken then moved to pass the cave dwed, taking in details such as a newly forged axe by Kazrin’s side, and a few open books in front of him. He wondered whether the sage-like Starbreaker he saw was reading multiple books at once, he wondered what purpose such a person would have to be up while the rest of the world lays uneasy in their beds. Regardless, he continued on and left Kazrin to his work. Hit footfalls echoed to the shadowy back end of the library where he quietly took a seat on one of the wooden chairs, a small creak coming from under his armored weight. He took off his helmet and set it aside, the blackened glass inside metalwork faintly reflecting his candle as he passed the flame on to a few more candles at the table. There Hraaken sat, unfurling a blank parchment and beginning to scribe away at a document with enough power to potentially shape the future into a new fate. ”In this message, I wish to address all living descendants on Arcas. You may not know me, I am an Underhammer, a dwarf belonging to an old race, an old family of wise and unshakable workers. In my time on this land I have come to learn that despite those who are sun stricken being assailed by the light, they lead happy lives. They have families as I do, they have cultures, they have values, they have dreams and ideals they wish to hold to the end of their days. Countless others before me have wrote tales and recorded history, and I intend to believe that countless others after me will continue to do so. There are warriors of men, mothers that hold their children dear, there are lovers that embrace each other even during this perilous time. All of it would be for naught should we lose it all to the spawn of Khorvad. That being said I do not make this letter to bring yet another scroll of sympathetic dread to your doorstep, as I have heard of the mighty heroes across our many lands and realms of old. I have heard of the might of Kjell, I have read the wisdom of elves past, I have seen the will of Humans, the ferocity of Orcs. I have seen what occurs when all descendants band to together, they write history so strong that even the book recording their actions trembles at the raw power of change. I write this to all living descendants reluctantly, as it is not my place as a simple elder to ask for this. I am no king, I am no emperor, and I am no leader, but I am calling for every last one of you to band together once again to bring forth the tides of change to our history books. To that end, I will be gathering a small force including my son and grandson to travel to each of your major cities and discuss actions to be taken against the incoming threat. There is no where to run this time, there is no city to abandon this time. It is do or die, we have no time to bicker among each other over wrongdoing or one’s honor. What matters is that we win for those who have fallen as well as those who have not yet had time to enjoy the world of the living. I urge any nation leaders that may be reading this document to band together with your neighbors despite your differences, for they can be settled afterwards once we have ensured a future for us all. To reinforce this claim, I have already gathered workers to produce the resources necessary to fortify the lands with which our final stand will take place. I do not wish to win, I wish to beat them back into their hole, a total call to victory.” – Thane of Century Omega II and Clan Elder, Hraaken Underhammer With his document done did Hraaken rise from his seat, quietly push in his chair, and make to the exit of the clergy hall in haste for there was work to be done. As he proceeded past the tables where Norli slept, Kazrin still sat reading away as if sleep were not a concept applied to him. Hraaken gave him a solemn nod as he left, regardless of whether he noticed. It was only then did Hraaken come forth to endure the Endless Toil yet again as he ventured back down the spiral of Kal-Evraal’s walls. His footsteps again being the only disturbance to the snoring of countless dwarves in their homes. As he drew near the Underhammer clan hall, he passed his parchment to a figure hooded and cloaked like the dark itself before letting them walk out of the city into the night to spread his word in good faith. Soon after Hraaken returned to the small forge in their hall and unstrapped his armor to reveal his tree trunk arms with valleys of gray muscle rippling across. He would grab a hammer and continue to shape the Gorix-Az on the anvil in front of him as he prepared for war.
  3. Smoke rose from the several small campfires which huddled around tents scattered in the vicinity of Ves, rising into small pillars of dark cloud, before being blown away in the easterly wind. Soon, the plate-clad soldiers that sat around those small campfires and rested within those tents of green would march with the wind, beneath the banner of Dame Athri Onfroi, Rabbit of Darrowmere. It was early in the month when these quarrelsome troops had gathered on the road to Ves; a collection of levies from Darrowmere and the wider collection, seeking prowess over the Kaedrini forces. From her position on the parapets of the fortress on the mild morning, a stern-faced, white-haired individual watched with icy eyes. Both gloved hands were clasped together behind the small of her back, resting upon her cloak of white & blue. The dark leather boots on her were placed shoulder’s width apart, while her front was emblazoned with an unbuttoned azure jacket, sporting a white shirt and black sash across her chest. “Dame…?” Athri turned to her left, gazing upon the Marshal Jolfrey Elessar who addressed her; dirty blond hair and a dirty line of stubble which lined his firm jaw. He looked leathery & battle-hardened.. His hands resting upon the hilts of a sword and dagger, sheathed upon his belt, casual and informal. “Several expected knights of the realm have not arrived. What do you want to do?” Athri turned her head back towards the sea of tents before her, removing her hands from behind her cloak and waving her hand towards the man, speaking in her brisk damerian accent. “Proceed as planned, Marshal.” With a bow of his head, the Marshal moved off to take to the field, down towards the men below. Soon enough, the several campfires that littered the landscape were now extinguished. The tents that once filled the landscape were steadily removed and their cargos placed into wagons. The soldiers that had rested the night prior and had their morning ration of bread, meat and watered-down wine, began to line up and their accompanying officers. With a small deposit of supplies left behind them to maintain a fallback camp, they began their march. Blood spilled out onto the cobblestone roads leading to Ves, the light of the sun had long since faded and given way to an overcast night, offering no moon nor stars in the sky. No artificial light shone down, until the footsteps of a certain Damerian force passed. Holding a torch light in one hand, Finan Hjalmar looked to Liliana Sol’vein, the latter looking at a mangled kaedrini body in abject disgust. Another Kaedrini dead, dead crows from the fauna of the land had their beaks prodding upon the body of the man, while cold blood dripped from the soaked tabard of the victim. This was one of several that laid dead after the skirmish was concluded… On this day, Darrowmere came out victorious. Credit to @Suicidium for writing this!
  4. Hangman’s promise “Big Tony, Big Money.” - Big Tony My figureheads have grown quite the liking of the people of Haense, I even allowed them to teach the HRA a couple of things on the fields of war. I’ve been sending my prayers to up above ever since I got word about the war, blessing the blades of the Haensemen and cursing the arrows of the Suticans, hoping their projectiles would miss the throats of my comrades. Sadly enough, the leadership of the Orenian Empire did not have the sufficient funds to buy us out of the Sutican war. May my brothers coated in green watch my back as I take up the mantle of a leader in this war, may my friends from Haense toss their weapons to the side when I face them on the battlefield, for then they will be spared. Gold and glory, my comrades… gold and glory Once this contract is signed, my men will raise their blades alongside the poor folk of Sutica, who just want to protect their land. It saddens me, the biggest fish going after one of the weakest fish. The Agreement The Suticans: -The Sutican leadership will hand 70 000 minas to The Hangmen. (50% up front) -The Sutican leadership will hand The Hangmen a simple plot of land for when they are forced to move out of this realm. -If there is any way to spare The King of Haense and his people, an effort must be made to make sure that there will always be an option for the Haensemen to get out of the war, safely. The Hangmen: -The Hangmen will aid Sutica and their allies in any militairy exercises against the Holy Orenian Empire. -The Hangmen Keep will serve as an outpost for the forces of Sutica and their allies. -The Overseers of The Hangmen will lend Sutica all of their knowledge regarding waging war, becoming a part of the core of the leadership of the conflict. “I’m sorry, comrades of my people. coin comes first. May our paths never cross during these troubling times.” Signed,
  5. Long has it been since the Legions of Atem have swept across the realms of the Far East. From the Gray mountains to the Dnedic Coast, they leveled every fortress, besieged every city, salted every land which dared to resist. Upon the fields of Mercath, where Prince Orin fell, the final embers of resistance were extinguished. But behind conquest’s iron boot, came civilization the likes of which had never graced the Far East before. Great roads, monolithic temples, and sprawling libraries took root, spreading rapidly across the region. Yet in adherence to the laws of the universe, nothing is destined to last forever. The rule of Atem, like all things, crumbled beneath the weight of its own power. Hundreds of years of conquest, washed away in mere decades. That which exists now is naught but a shadow of what once was, marauding warlords, jockeying for power over the decaying corpse of an empire. New states and peoples, long since oppressed, enslaved or, perhaps in positions of power, the sole guides of their own destiny. Upon which paths they will tread, none can say.. ---------------- “To those who dwell within the space between spaces, there is nothing... Eons evaporate in mere minutes. The inevitable march of time, it devours all…” An orb of pristine blue shone towards the heavens as the snow fell to the earth, accumulating around it. In the distance, the calls of wild beasts, snow crunching beneath boots, shouts ring out. The wind howls, biting into the skin of men like daggers. The orb flickers and dims.. “I have observed much. Nature here.. is vile. There is much misery. The trees cry out. The birds do not sing, they screech out in pain...” Reflected within the orb is an ocean of stars. An unseen cosmos, the heavens themselves pouring down. A comet glistening across the midnight sky. “A wretched curse weighing on the entirety of the landscape. All who venture upon it are doomed to reap his share. A land created in anger, born of spite. Even the stars within the firmament are chaotic in nature, they are disarrayed, disorganized. I have observed much. Among all things, perhaps unseen.. There is a certain harmony which exists...” Then, Darkness. ---- The Year is 865 of the 14th Age, According to the Calendar of Atem Crimson Order From all corners of the Sea of Chtor, the Order has drawn from and consolidated. Rid of any foreign influence, the red men now look outwards, seeking blood and bounty. Within the Wulff swamps, disturbances reverberate, and whispers reach the Order’s ears.. Kingdom of Kastovia Through blood and steel the realm of Kastovia was once more unified. The traitorous uncle and his followers dispatched of. Now more centralized than ever, Kastovia’s path is unclear. To the west, the banners of Antramar march north as King Savos lays waste to large swathes of the Midlands, one of the numerous side effects of the Orevian-Antramarian war.. Point of Interest: Upon the coast of the Wine Sea, many a fishermen have sworn they saw the water pouring from an unseen source.. Point of Interest: Among a series of rolling hills, the site of a great battle continues to burn, metaphorically of course.... Mitrovic Empire From humble beginnings, the Empire has risen. West, east, into the sea of Chtor, there are many directions for which the emperor to channel his ambitions. Resources: From the southern stretches of the empire word filters of an undocumented weed. It grows in great stalks, capped with numerous red-orange buds, perhaps further study is in order? Kingdom of Krolestwo The Treaty of the Thousand, an event which will no doubt live on in historical records till the end of time. Here, men will say, began the birth of a most righteous and glorious kingdom... League of Perasma It has been long since the Perasmians set out on their great expedition. As news from the west dwindled, so too did opposition to independence. Separated from the empire, and within the ambitious hands of the newly appointed Archon, who is to stop the League now? Point of Interest: Fydor’s Bastion- Built upon rough cliffs of the wind blasted isle stands a great fortress. Built from black stone, and clearly weathered through dozens of sieges, a stout keep surrounded by two layers of walls dominates the natural harbor positioned just south of it. Pachaqui Kingdom Curators of the Mantle, isolated from the great turbulence and destruction of the Atemic Collapse, the people of Pachaqui now emerge. Seeking new riches, upon which path will they travel, war or diplomacy? Perhaps both, perhaps neither, nonetheless, the Earth guides them.. Grand Principality of Rostukhov A land of endless bounty, vibrant culture, and ancient history. For centuries a vassal underneath their Atemic overlords, Rostukhov now stands as presumptive masters of the Vestvelt. Where the house of Ademichev will lead the Principality, remains to be seen.. Resources: Much talk fills the ears of a local Dvoryanin, apparently the local serfs have stumbled upon a plant not yet encountered in this region. Surely they would know, their families have been living there for since.. well .. uh.. Forever? Perhaps it is worth looking into. Chicahtoc Empire Born from blood and fear, the nine tribes are unified, submissive before the grandeur of Emperor Chicahtoc! Still, the shaman read omens, they proclaim that the gods look favorably upon the empire, and there is still much to do… Kingdom of Ardes Beloved by all, wise, and cautious, His Royal Majesty has guided Ardes into a period of unprecedented prosperity. No doubt, the coming years will bring many trials and much turbulence, will Ardes summon the strength to forge ahead? Point of Interest: Upon the mouth of Arles, a great site stands, unperturbed by the passing of time. It is said that a great battle was once fought here.. Kingdom of Rhorric Masters of horse, bane of Atem, never have the lands of Rhorric been subject to foreign rule, protected by the vast Rhydian marshes to the west, and Darkwood to the east, from here, their path is uncertain.. Point of Interest: Many speak of a ruin, peaking through the edge of the Darkwood, dominating its surroundings. Ishikawa Shogunate Long has the House of Ishikawa ruled over their isles, ever watchful of the Sea of Fydor in service to the Eternal Emperor’s final command. Here, time slows to a crawl, and life is slow.. But yet the priests report, great winds blow from the east, in the ears of the Shogun spirits whisper that they herald a great task.. Resources: On the isle of Kurosima, among the sprawling terraces of the south, a wagie’s hoe strikes a something hard, and a terrible explosion rips his surroundings apart, vaporizing him instantly. At its center is a pale green stone, how curious… City-State of Salvus Emergent from the trials of the past, Salvus is one of the largest cities to exist within the continent, rivaling even the Great Aldemar in size- though not in majesty, surely, there is much work yet to be done… Kemet Solitude and service to the gods, such has been the way of Kemet for aeons. When the vile legions of Atem tore through the continent, trampling over the faithful, disrupting the very nature of existence, the gods were patient in their retribution! In time, their will delivered, and the men of Atem struck down, and with them the old ways! Venerate the Eye of Kemet, for the gods would see the endless nation grow beyond its river! Resources: On the northern reaches of the Jade Sea, many have come across a strange weed, it grows in great stalks, with buds of red-orange hue. Point of Interest: They say a great man was once laid to rest here, once master of all creation, many claim that great gatherings of unknown folk accompanied by great blasts of light occur often at such a place, but slaves see many things… Samalstraza Samalstraza, a great beacon of enlightenment within a sea of darkness! Masters of the Arcane, and seekers of knowledge. Many a scholar and king alike travel upon the Runeway, to the ancient fortress in search of knowledge and council. The path ahead is shrouded in shadows, perhaps only the men of Ninur are capable of peeling them away… Choranic Empire Servants of the creator, heir to the heavens, the Choranic Empire dominates both wood and prairie, though none exist to directly challenge them, their path will no doubt be filled with numerous obstacles... Go.
  6. Throughout the lands of Arcas, large scrolls and posters bearing the official seal of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan are sent to heads of state and hung on every signpost and notice board. Beneath the seal, a letter penned in crimson ink eerily similar to that of blood reads… “Issued and confirmed on this day, the 4th of The Deep Cold, 1767, from the seat of the Obsidian Throne and His Highness, Grand King Utak Ireheart of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. Honorable dwedmar of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, faithful allies to the Obsidian Throne, and honorable heads of state of the Realm of Arcas, This past stone day -- a day of blood which shall forever live in infamy -- the leadership of the Warnation of Krugmar did knowingly organize and condone the cowardly and dishonorable bombing of the throneroom of Kal’Evraal. With this attempt at assassination of many of the dwedmar heads of state and the Grand King himself, the Obsidian Throne sees no choice other than to recognize this act of terrorism as a prelude to greater conflict. Determined to right the wrongs done against the Dwedmar, the Grand Kingdom of Urguan shall henceforth enter into a state of open war with the Warnation of Krugmar. Until such a time as the terms of the blood grudge are met, the legions of Urguan shall be tasked with hunting down every uruk on Arcas. Through force of arms, the uruk menace shall be driven from every hole and crevice they cower in until the realm is freed of those who would practice terrorism against the honorable creations of Yemekar. Narvak oz da Dwedmar! Narvak oz Urguan! Kavir oz da Urukmar oz Krugmar!”
  7. OLD WOUNDS REOPENED “And the uruk carcass gathered in a wretched mound beneath the snowy precipice, no match for Igor Ireheart and the Hammer of Barradin, which quivered in his left hand.” The Chronicles of Igor Ireheart Volume II, Wulfgar Grandaxe circa 1642. The drums of war sound from deep within Kal’Evraal, calling the dwed to arms once more. Utak watches atop the obsidian throne as his kinsfolk swell in the hall before him, a reunion of dwed in defence of their country. Feuds forgotten, a kinship reforged in common cause, the dwed once again rally to defend Urguan from the Uruk locusts. The scourge in the east is a threat that grows ever stronger; Krugmar have sanctioned attacks against dwed, and prevented any peaceful resolution to the situation from happening. A Dwed has turned up beardless, tortured and savaged by Krughai bandits - an act celebrated by the Krugmar Rex. This is a betrayal that must be avenged, and a grudge that must be resolved. The greenskins will be dealt with once and for all, as old foes meet again. Utak raises his hand, quieting the room as he begins to address the audience below him. “I have given this moment much thought, and wondered what I might say to this congregation of my kin. I concluded that there is no wisdom that I can bestow upon this crowd, so rich with experience and knowledge, that it will not already possess. There is also no advice that can be offered by myself to a band of veterans such as this, so hardened by the trials of war, and so familiar with situations such as this. Instead I will remind you of one thing - The axes and hammers of Urguan have grown restless, and savages threaten our kingdom and livelihood. You know what must be done to right this wrong and deal justice to those that offer us harm; bloody our weapons with our eastern enemy. There is only one outcome that to be realised in this conflict, Dungrimm with us we shall ensure it.” The King sits, as a raucous orchestra of roars and cries erupt around the hall. He offers a faint smile, readying himself to lead his Kingdom into war. Type of War : Conquest CBs : Discussed in Private. Attackers : Urguan and Allies Defenders : Krugmar and Allies Wargoals : Conquest Location & Proposed : Time : TBD Contact Information : ?????????#1445
  8. [!] A missive is sent out to the cloud temple notice boards and all assets of Arcas, copies of Ser Stefan’s letter to his family were posted alongside it, reading as follows: ((Song to read this to below)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8AeV8Jbx6M "Dear Noble House of Onfroi I love each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. Alli, you are the love of my life and Avian, Willow, you are the best things to ever happen to me. To my sister, Emilienne, I am sorry for leaving you in this world and to my nephews, I hardly saw you but you meant more to me than most. I went to Oren to avenge my nephews and I royally screwed up, and for that I am sorry. I am being executed today and you won't be seeing me everagain...I will see you all in the afterlife. P.S. The snake men got me, Avian..." Ser Stefan, cloaked and masked, began the long trip to Helena. A common trip for him, despite the on-going, albeit standstill, war. He thought little of it going wrong, no words of farewell or longing glances tossed over his shoulder. Upon reaching the river, he settled into his small raft, rowing to Helena. A guard, new to the force, requested he raise his mask. He obliged, unrecognized, and was allowed into the city. He went about his business as usual, trading, conversing, relaxing. The peaceful, enjoyable occasion was not to last, as he was told to take off his mask by a private of the 1st Brigade. Ever the clever man, Stefan fled from the guard in a calculated risk. He was no soldier in his prime, but he was not yet an old man, either. The guard gave chase, a fight quickly ensuing as Stefan attempted to turn on his pursuer. A close fight, the guard managed to knock him to his knees, and so Stefan yielded. Tied, beaten, he was dragged to the cells of Helena. Mask removed, his identity confirmed, the guards leered at him. His capturer cared not for his life, giving the choice away to Adrian, who thought to spare him his fate. There would be no mercy for Ser Stefan Onfroi. With word reaching Emperor Peter III, the choice was no longer in Adrian’s hands. A quick letter penned to his beloved family, Stefan slipped it to the knight, begging him to promise delivery to Stefan’s family. A command was then given, his identity confirmed to the higher ups of the Brigade. His fate was sealed, he was to be hanged until death took him. Guided to the gate by soldiers of Helena, a rope was slipped over Stefan’s head. This guard, new and naive, took a step too close and Stefan, in a desperate last effort to survive, seized the opportunity. Headbutting the man, he fled, leaping over the bridge and into the waterway outside of Helena. His escape did not last long though, his last effort for freedom was to end soon. A small boat, not unlike the one he had rowed earlier, approached. ‘The Shark’, ever an accurate title, aptly described Stefan’s actions, knocking the man from his boat, commandeering it, a fateful glance behind himself. A mistake. The enemy was not behind, but instead in front. A rocky outcrop of the water nearly capsized the small boat, and with this motion so went Stefan’s hope of escape. Ever a survivor, a scrapper from birth, Stefan swam to shore to meet his fate. Four soldiers met him on the shoreline, a quick but fierce fight ensuing, resulting in Stefan being knocked unconscious and dragged back into Helena. Bloodied, battered, broken, his unconscious body was tied once more by the noose. The Orenian Knight, Ser Adrian “The Red”, drew the gates, terminating Stefan’s life immediately. His neck snapped and his body hung lifeless, unarmed. His wife and children at home, watching the roads outside of Rubern for the return of their beloved family member. This return was not to come, his wife and eldest child waited until nightfall before returning indoors, leaving a candle lit to guide him when he at last returned. Rest in peace to a man of the AIS, a man of Lorraine and most importantly a man of House Onfroi. [!] A depiction of Ser Stefan upon his noble steed, “Ser Gregory” of Lorraine. [!] A depiction, drawn by his own kin, of Ser Stefan with his wife, “Alli Onfroi” and his twin boys, “Avian Onfroi” and “Willow Onfroi”. https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/642186138244612113/673007119309471744/c.mp4
  9. A missive is sent to all Imperial factions and the cloud temple noticeboards. It would read the following: “We’ve captured a Soldier whose a citizen of Helena. He is a prisoner of war. His ransom is 1.500 minas. Pay his ransom and he will be released. If his ransom isn’t paid in one saint’s hour he will be beheaded by the Marshal of Lorraine.” The letters were signed by Ser Stefan Onfroi, Marshal of Lorraine, General of the AIS and scoutmaster of Rubern Solomon de Alence, Count of Pestilles Alli Onfroi, Noble of House Onfroi
  10. [!] *An execution missive would be posted across Arcas. Henry of Oren was strolling down the road to Helena for his daily shopping and trade. Before he could react, Ser Stefan Onfroi of Lorraine jumped in front of him, his sword drawn, blocking his progress into Helena. He was told to go to Rubern with Stefan, having not been armed he agreed to do this as he had more chance of surviving if he went into custody. Following this, they trekked to Rubern, entering the courtyard. Two trap doors could have been spotted by the gallows as Henry was forcing towards them. He was at first resistant to the shoving asking, “Why bring me all this way just to kill me?” Stefan replied with a shake of his head, remaining silent as he forced Henry into the underground cell complex. Stefan then locked the trap doors, ushering Henry into a nearby cell to question him. He asked the Orenian, “Where are you from, what is your name and what is your allegiance?” and as you would expect, he replied with, “Henry of Oren,” and went on to describe that he did trade with Oren. Both of these statements confirmed the man as a supplier to the Imperial State Army. Garrick of Rubern then came down into the cell complex, using the guard’s entrance, he discussed with Stefan over what they were going to do with the man in the cell. After a short period of time, they came back to talk to Henry, dragging him out of the cell and forcing ropes around his hands and feet. He was then fireman lifted out of the cell complex and to the bank of Rubern where he paid Stefan 575 minas, which to all who knows about ransoms, is not enough. He was taken to the gallows, having no one who wished to pay the ransom and hung. Henry had no final words to say, as his neck was snapped and his body was disposed of into the catacombs, never to be seen again. Ave Lorraine! Long live the Highland Realm. ((2x proof of pk permission: thank you to _Im_Matthew_ for the cooperation and awesome rp!)) Signed, Ser Stefan Onfroi of Lorraine, General of the AIS and scoutmaster of Rubern Signed, Garrick of the Huszar Company
  11. A missive is sent to all Imperial factions and the cloud temple noticeboards. It would read the following: “We’ve captured a noble whose a citizen of Haense. His name is Johannes Barclay, of house Barclay. He is a prisoner of war. His ransom is 3.000 minas. Pay his ransom and he will be released. If his ransom isn’t paid in one saint’s hour he will be beheaded by the Marshal of Lorraine.” The letters were signed by Ser Stefan Onfroi, Marshal of Lorraine, General of the AIS and scoutmaster of Rubern Morana Vilchyc, Arch Chancellor of Lorraine
  12. A Captured Soldier The depiction of the Haeseni soldier within his cage. Upon the movement of Elathion amongst the Orenian roads, he had come across an Haeseni soldier, who styles himself as Bjornholf - who also claims to be a key role in the King’s court! He was quickly subdued and taken back to Rubern for the necessary processing. There is a simple decision to be made here, come and negotiate a ransom for this Imperial Noble, or he will be slaughtered. You have a few saints hours.
  13. LOATHE THE SPINELESS SWAMPGOTH DRÛTRAM’LAK had, until recently, been loitering in his home among the rolling hills of the Mokh-Uruki savannah, a small helping of Toalak sludge on the tip of his index. As it neared his tongue, a rat wrapped tightly in parchment approached him; the parchment itself detailed the Federation’s declaration of war against Vintas. He retired to his office for hours - what he did inside is unknown, but what is known is that as he emerged, eyes bloodshot and speech slurred, he ordered the mass printing of a number of posters, which were soon plastered along the walls and posts of the Federation’s capital. [A selection of a few of the SWAMPGOTH’S posters] Content with the distribution of his re-education material, the SWAMPGOTH decided it best to declare his clan’s role in the Federation warmachine. “These SPIRITLESS, SPINELESS toelickers are an insult to all that we know; Enrohk loathes them, for they are not warlike. Leyd loathes them, for they do not expand their borders and enslave their opposition. Kezt loathes them, for they show no bravery in the face of conflict. “Most of all, brothers, we loathe them. We loathe them for the war-machine loathes them. We loathe them for they remain vassals of those who have slaughtered us innumerable times. We shall let them taste but a fraction of what we have been made drunk by for decades. Sharpen your spears, brothers. String your bows, and fletch your arrows, for soon, we march to war against the weak. “Send word to the Targoth. We shall see these scum burn.” And with that, he set off to his armory, to polish his armor and to plot his attack. Frûm Ulmakhizishu
  14. AND TO THE MIRE, HE RETURNS ___________________________________ [!] A depiction of Kaer Glythen, the Aeldinic seat of House Grimm The war between the feuding Imperial Houses of Horen and Marna has claimed many lives as of recent, and families all throughout the two imperiums now grieved for lost sons and daughters - taken all too soon in the conflict. One such family is the noble House of Grimm, its members having learned of its patriarch’s death in the most horrible of ways; The Baron’s corpse was shipped to the stone-maken walls of Reza, confined to a wooden box devoid of any means to initially identify him. Eventually, however, upon reaching hold of Lady Grimm, authorities were able to properly identify the bloodied husk as her spouse - a man who had so chivalrously lived past his prime. As the family grieved together and sorted through the late patriarch’s belongings, a piece of parchment was found. On the paper lay dozens of crossed out lines of text, all discarded before the middle of the page. In there, a handful of lines remained, writing comparable to chicken scratch, though legible nonetheless. I remember my arrival upon Atlas hazily, though some memories do not escape me. The overwhelming fear of leaving my parents, and my eldest siblings, on their lonesome in Venerra. Thankfully, I had my sister Alana by my side throughout the voyage. Tempests raged about us as we ventured further into the murky waters, our vessel soon being consumed by a grey mist -- restricting our vision for a good while. In the days following, we could make out a jagged mountain ahead; Overjoyed, Alana and I leaped into the frigid waters and gradually arrived to Haeseni shores. As we made our way into the confines of Markev, we were greeted by our cousins, Emma Ludovar and her younger sibling, Jacob. My sister took the path of Chamberlain; I, on the other hand, pursued the path my father had always desired for me - knighthood. And so life went on for me: I had four beauteous children and a supportive consort. Alas, I write this for I have spent fifty-some years alive - Death encroaches, and rapidly at that. Should you find this and I’m deceased, my sole request is to be returned to my grand-nephew, William I of Venerra, where I am to be laid in our family crypts with my father Elias, my mother Selina, and my siblings. To the mire, I return. Credit to Axelu for writing the entire thing, I’m just here for the rep.
  15. Hey I'm putting all my LotC videos as unlisted and wanted to make this post so that the links could be found without asking me. These videos start in 2013 when I joined and the last one I uploaded was last year in 2017. Green = Better quality / recommended videos. Red = Boring videos that I put in just for the record. Harbinger Fight (Anthos, 2013) Battle of the Nation's Crossing (Thorin's War, Anthos 2013) Battle of Shadowcastle (Pre-Trench War, Anthos 2013) Fall of the Cloud Temple (Anthos, 2013) Deeproads Breach (Ondnarch, Anthos, 2013) Battle of Thoringrad (Trench War, Anthos, 2014) Battle of Indagolaf End (Trench War, Anthos, 2014) Dwarves Help the Conclave (Anthos, 2014) Battle for Kal'Azgoth (Ondnarch, Anthos 2014) The Last Ice Morph (Ondnarch, Anthos 2014) Battle of the Dreadfort (Anthos, 2014) Welcome to the Fringe (Anthos - Fringe, 2014) Skirmish in Kaldonia (The Fringe, 2014) The Battle of Kal'Agnar (Athera, 2014) Battle of Hiebenhall (Athera, 2015) Battle of the Withering Woods Battle of the Melting Frost (1st Frostbeard Rebellion, Vailor, 2015) Dwarf vs Orc Wargames (Vailor, 2015) Battle of Khro'Nagaak (Vailor, 2015) Battle of Kal'Ordholm (Vailor, 2016) Battle of the Gorge (Dwarves & Courland vs Oren War, Axios, 2017) Battle of Goldfield (Dwarves & Courland vs Oren War, Axios, 2017) Skirmish of Johannesburg (Dwarves & Courland vs Oren War, Axios, 2017) Skirmish by Curon (Courland-Haense War, Axios, 2017) Mordring Attacks Bastion (Axios, 2017) Skirmish Outside the Krag (Dwarves vs Norland War, Axios, 2017) Battle in the Cultist's Lair (Axios, 2017)
  16. THE ETERNAL WAR, 1687 The road was littered with corpses, the water diluted with red ichor - this was the aftermath of a Empire victory against the reemerging Reivers that had struck out against a Haense ball. The few survivors hid in their towers and forts like rats that needed to be routed out, so that is what must be done. A war council was convened shortly after and it was decided that once more the Reivers will be rooted out, butchered and once more made extinct which was a common occurrence for the lackluster fighters that struggle to win any fight. A second tower, that was ruined, was seen to house the pitiful Reiver bandits - so without hesitation the banners of the Empire were called once more, a plethora of flags flying high in the sky as they would march upon the second fortification just after the first. Each and every soldier confident that the Reivers, as always, would find themselves being dealt another loss.
  17. SIEGE OF RIVIÄ _______________________________________________________________________________________________ Blackreach and its allies demolishing the Rivian army, Battle of the Red Snow, 1681 _______________________________________________________________________________________________ After the Battle William, Charles, Wilhelm, Edward would be in the war room at old Curon palace looking at a map of the Rivian capital. As the room was silent William would then speak up. “The time has finally come.... All he ever wanted was blood and glory, but now he will be receiving nothing but blood.” ___________________________ CBs: -Revenge Side A: -County of Blackreach & Allies Side B: -Duchy of Rivia & Allies Proposed Date & Time: Sunday the 23rd at 3:00pm EST Proposed Rules: N/A Location: Discord: Already have the people
  18. Three months were allowed to the Dwarves of Az'adar and Ord to make amends after their declaration of war, three months during which some of them visited Kaz'Ulrah, though most refused to and remained within their temple. Beneath the mountain remained a High Queen, adamant at retaining her words and acting on it. Koralon sat on the Kaz'Ulrah throne, her graying hair dangling from beneath the simple steel circlet she wore, the dancing flames glinting within its sapphire gemstone. Some empty mugs of ale and platters of meat remained on the tables in front of her from the previous meeting of the clergy. Her mind was, however, set on another topic. Another target. "Once my home." She spoke to her fellow Dwedmar after emerging from the throne room. "Now they declared themselves an enemy. But even before their sword was raised, the war was over for them. An unlikely ally arose in a moment of strife, an elven Peacemaker, a King true to his word on peace and thrive for prosperity. A king who was slain in front of my eyes, by those who hide in their so-called temple." She straightened herself, her frail posture still many inches taller than the mountain dwarves on her side. "When the Zahrer the Conspirator arrived to the city on an offer to sustain peace and make amends for his slight against the Dwedmar, he instead demanded we cease aggression, fear glancing in his eyes, fears that the Dwedmar he fought for so long would rally in arms against him, fear that he'd be overthrown once more and his taint on this world would finally come to an end. The very man once so confident in the restoration of a fallen kingdom now quivers as clan father over a traitor family, killing peacemakers, killing fellow Dwedmar." "Know, however, that many of them came to our Kingdom, with kind words, pleas, apologies or amends proper. Many came whom we spoke to, many whom we welcomed and many who will not be target of our crusade. Ulhart Grandaxe, Fimlin Grandaxe, Dizzy the still-Irongrinder, Tharrgus Irongut, Gror Ireheart and Yeulf Irongut: know that unless you march to the aid of Arcadia, no axe will be raised against you, no slight of honour will be held against you and you will be allowed to reclaim what is yours from the fallen temple." As the Dwedmar listened, their Queen shifted in her stand and lifted her left hand to gesture towards her heart. "I offer you each, to follow me on this crusade. I offer you each to rid this world of the Undead-Lord, of the Conspirator, of the Traitor to the Dwedmar. If he builds yet one more flying city, we will fire hooks at it and crash it into the mountain. If he makes alliance with Khorvad, we shall invoke the Brathmordakin and purge him along with his lord." "Arcadia shed its scales and re-dressed as a temple, a temple without statues of the Brathmordakin, with statues of Runelords and with altars of unknown powers. We will march on their cesspool of corruption, raze it to the ground in the memory of those they slighted and use their bricks to construct a statue of Dungrimm so that the Undead-Lord remembers not to slight the Guardian of the Dead. We shall not stop until the kingslayers are fallen." As she said that, war horns of the eight clans within the kingdom sounded up, war horns calling for a march, a march south straight at the enemy. Kavir oz Arcadia, Narvak oz Khazadmar! Narvak oz Abelas! CBs: Revenge (1/3) (or Denoucncement x3) Side A: The Kingdom of Kaz'Ulrah and allies Side B: The Temple of Az'adar and allies Proposed Date & Time: 15th of September (Saturday), 2018 Proposed Rules: N/A Location: Discord: Ronald Reagan#9284 (I am in war chat)
  19. ~The Duchy of Arbor~ & House Silversteed ((coordinates to Arbor are X: 27 Y: 72 Z: 1563)) I am now unbroken. From this day, until my last, I shall not bow, I shall not bend, I shall not break. Henceforth I will not kneel for any man, not before any lord, or King. Our hearts are where all truth resides, And so I shall place my willing fist above it, in place of a bent spine. I am now undaunted. I shall not fear, what others fear most. I shall not tremble, when ordinary men break ranks. I am the light in the dark. I am the shield endowed with honor, the protector of Arbor and its lands. I am the sword etched with glory, the guardian of light. I swear from this day forth to protect the innocent of all the realms of Atlas, wherever they may be. I swear my life in the name of Arbor and House Silversteed, to protect the true bloodline of the first. I relinquish all title or titles to be to Arbor, for either I shall hold title within its realm, or no title at all. I am of House Silversteed, I am of Arbor. We are retribution. ~The oath of Arbor. ~A poem, written by a musician of Arbor many years ago, which became popular with the Knights and has since become a common hym among the people of Arbor. Since the Kingdom of Arbor, ordained by the Church, merged with Curon nearly 30 years ago, the realms have prospered. The alliance of nations has formed in the pursuit of lasting peace, and the Global Assembly has had unprecedented success in creating an understanding amongst the people of Atlas. Despite this, darkness still presides in this world. I Aragon Silversteed, Lord Paramount of House Silversteed; only son of Avalon Silversteed, the founder of this great house, have dedicated my life to eradicating the forces of darkness that plague all the peoples of Atlas. We the Knights of Arbor, tasked as peacekeepers of the Global Assembly, take it upon ourselves to seek out this darkness wherever it may be and destroy it. The undead, bandits, and the drakes that torment this world will be hunted and eradicated. To this end I swear my life, let God be my witness. Those who wish to fight the darkness of this realm, may sign up here. If one wishes to join the Silver Knights of Arbor however, they must sign up and pass the trials. Only the best and the bravest can hold the honor of becoming a Knight. If one does not wish to attempt the trials, they may join the Black Guard. ~The grand charge against the undead out of Arbor, led by Avalon Silversteed and The Knights of Arbor The Silver Knights of Arbor ~Ser Ajax, Knight of Arbor (left, with shield) blocking an attack on Avalon Silversteed (right) by Bandits and Undead. Ser Ajax saved Avalon's life this fateful day. The Culture of Arbor Arbor began many many years ago, a split off group during the decline of the Kingdom of Norland in the beginnings of Atlas. Lord Avalon Silversteed, first of the House Silversteed, left Norland with much of its population and his house after the bastard child of Javier stole the thrown from his brother the true heir to Norland, whilst his brother was sickly in bed. Fearing a decline which indeed did come, Avalon and his kin left Norland, for a better life. In the early months of Atlas they established a small town, just outside the Cloud Temple. The town grew rapidly, and eventually became a city. Amongst the massive oak trees of those fertile lands, and like a tree itself growing strong out of seemingly hopeless soil, this city was aptly named 'Arbor'. Avalon believed in honor above everything. What he saw in Norland greatly shaped his view in the world. He saw how brothers turned on each other for power. How they spat on basic principles like the freedom to think clearly, or the freedom to follow differing faiths without fear of persecution. It became his drive, his goal in life to renew a spirit of honor within this new world of Atlas. He started with a simple decree. "Gather round my kin, hear me! I dare not take much of your time, you all lead busy lives, but hear me! Never again, shall anyone bow to me! And I shall bow to none! Just the other day an old and humble farming man came to my court asking for grain. Before he even spoke a word, before he even knew my nature, he attempted to bow before me. The pain from the motion that I saw in his eyes, I shall never forget. What right, do I have, does anyone have, to ask for people to bend their pride and honor before them!? To humiliate people, in such a way, just to evoke status. No more. The heart, is from where I wish to speak. From my heart. That is where my truth resides. Where my honor comes from. And as long as it beats I shall never bend my back again, to no man, no lord, no king. And as long as I live, none shall bow to me, or any of my blood!" And so it was. From that day forth the people developed a new show of respect towards each other. Arborians became known for placing their fist over their hearts gently, in place of bowing to one another. As time went by, and the Knights of Arbor were formed, the people of Arbor found it there duty to take on the roles that other cities and nations found beneath them. To aid the small and unlanded peoples that were scattered throughout Atlas. To protect these small communities from bandits, and the undead. To help them went winters were harsh. To supply them, when times were hard. The forgotten peoples of Atlas, were not forgotten by Arbor. Beside a large trade road leading to the Elves of the Dominion, and at the base of the mountain of the mighty Dwarves of Kaz'Ulra, Arbor's wealth swelled. Developing close relations because of this trade with many nations, Arborians began to develop their own culture and identity. Arborians above all value honor. In every interaction Honor is at play. If an Arborian goes back on their word, it is considered a disgrace, and they are often shunned by fellow Arborians for breaking a contract, or manipulating agreements. Arborians developed this sense that Honor and Humility are perhaps the most important attributes in a person, and thus teach it to each generation. Arborians are masters of the horse, and mounted combat. It is common that parents introduce their children to horses before the children can even speak. The horse is a symbol of freedom, of heart, and of loyalty. The vivid green plains and deep forests that surround Arbor are often speckled with wild stallions. As such, Arborians have developed, perhaps more than anything, the determination and willpower, of the very horses they ride. Arborians are a proud people, and there is often a struggle between to balance humility, and the natural pride within all Arborians. The Black Guard Charter of the Arborian Government, ~History~ _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Sign up for Citizenship RP Name: MC Name: Do you have a skill, trade, or profession you wish to pursue or put to use within Arbor? Are you interested in one of the above mentioned positions within the Arborian government? If so, which? (Senate, Silver Court, Centurion, etc.) ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Sign up for The Knights of Arbor RP Name: MC Name: Combat Experience (none is fine): If you wish to become a Knight, are you ready to take the oath and attempt the trials? (Do not respond if you wish to join the Black Guard): ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Sign up for The Black Guard RP Name: MC Name: Combat Experience (none is fine, training is provided): ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ((MSG L0rdT0mas, Ajax_Manslayer, or Ye_Haw for further information))
  20. THE SIEGE OF BLACKREACH Messenger and Duke Thomas I of Riviä Circa 1672 Duke Thomas I of Riviä would be gazing out of a window in the Riviän privy council chambers, surveying his land and watching his soldiers drill in the main courtyard. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet until the privy council doors slammed open with a messenger running inside with a declaration in his hands. “Your Grace, the B-barony of Blackreach have d-declared... themselves ind-dependent from our D-duchy!” the messenger pants, stuttering over his speech. The Duke turns around, his face showing intense anger and confusion “Summon the officers, to meet me here in a few minutes time!” he’d command, with great power. As soon as all the commanding officers in the army arrived into the privy council chambers, the doors were slammed shut and locked from the inside not allowing anyone to give away their plans. Thomas I would clear his throat before starting “I took the House of an Cantwell in when nobody else wanted them, I granted them a Barony and what do they repay me with. They repay me with open rebellion! This will not stand, I hereby say we call up our banners and our allies and march to war.” Ser Kuyouch would simply listen to Thomas for a while "Your Grace. Going to war seems to be the only solution" he'd suddenly say "Though try to keep the casualties on both sides to a minimum. Our only targets are the leaders. With no leader, a group or nation falls apart. Then we could take advantage of the chaos after we killed the leaders, and march into the city or whatever that shithole is." he'd suddenly stand up from his seat and walks to a window, looking outside "Those who give, will be given. Those who take, shall be taken." he'd simply add afterwards, sitting back into his seat and sipping from a cup of rum. Theresa would be sitting in her chair with her arm on the table resting her head on it. “I agree with killing the leaders but cant we spare the barony, have new leaders for it, make it our barony again?” Theresa would say calmly, trying to take the most peaceful route as possible*. Leonard would reply to Theresa “Yeah I think we should spare who surrenders to us after the killing of the Leaders, having more vassals would be useful" he would heavily slam his arm on the table, and his eyes would light up “But everyone who tries to stop us should be killed immediately during the siege, those stupids soldiers must pay for what they do” Leonard would say with a smile. Thomas stands up with a grin on his face “So it is agreed then, we go to war” he then turns to his daughter, Theresa de Hartcold “Call up the banners, we march to war within the coming months” WARCLAIM CBs: Rebellion + Betrayal Side A: The Duchy of Rivia + Allies Side B: The Barony of Blackreach [No Allies] Proposed Date & Time: TBD Proposed Rules: TBD in Warchat Location: x. 2115.153 y. 88.87500 z. 3916.755 (somewhere round here) Surrounding area of battlefield for reference to location: Discord: TJBGamer#9681 Sander#0004
  21. Hey guys, thought I would share a total obliteration war claim!
  22. Role-play: An abandoned fortress lay within the area of the Duchy of Nevaria land expansion, it lies as a potential safe hold and strategic point for bandits or enemies of the duchy, and must be seized immediately to prevent the threat. CBs: Minor Freebuild Takeover- Abandonment-Marshal of Nevarian guard was killed by High Rock people. Side A: Duchy of Nevaria Side B: High Rock Estate Proposed Date & Time: Friday 8th, at 8:00 PM EST Proposed Rules: Server rules Location: Blue=Duchy of Nevaria land/Red=High Rock Estate Discord: Anisgar#9993 TriscuitBisquick#4491
  23. Depiction of sleeping lambs before a slaughter, symbolizing the previous skirmish - by Pius. c.1660 Early in the morning, the population of the Norlandic islands would be awoken by the distant, yet audible sunrise ritual of a rooster. A call to awaken, and face their actions on the battlefield. The Northern Atlas Alliance marches closer by the hour, pushing closer to the heathen populated Norlandic capital. As four nations, nine banners and thousands of men and women enter deeper into the Norlandic territory, town criers spout rumors of an upcoming battle. A message would propagate among town folk: "The dragon is starving in a land full of lambs - it will feast soon . . . " WARCLAIM Side A: Northern Atlas Alliance Side B: United Southern Alliance Actual Time & Date: Saturday 28th April, 3pm EST, 8pm GMT. Proposed Rules: TBD in Warchat Location: [GMs have it in Dewper's battleplan] Discord: Dewper#3791 / DPM#1488 / Clouds#1218
  24. Type of Battle: Skirmish. Proposed Tier: Tier 1 Date & Time: 8/6/17 | 3pm EST. Side A: The Kingdom of Santegia + allies Side B: The Principality of Veris + allies Discord: Already in war chat Location: Veris Direct Area: https://i.gyazo.com/90d51745aed695ef894abec5d46d707c.png Surrounding Area: https://i.gyazo.com/90d51745aed695ef894abec5d46d707c.png Proposed Rules: Standard server rules. No unregistered allies. No golden apples. No one-day alts Roleplay Section: From dusk to dawn, an almost endless stream of men would pour against the border between the two nations. Abdes de Savin would examine from astride his horse, the long file of divisions that stretched as far as the eye could see; the valley and forest is filled with the throng of life, between the excited chatter of allies of Simian and Norlandic origin. In no small part, his own forces hold rank and file as their officers brief them on how they shall conduct themselves in the coming months.. He recalls the affronts upon his nation; the attempted murder of his beloved sister-in-law, Sussane de Castro. He recalls Verisian aggression upon his steadfast allies, and how they too refused to raise arms against the menace of the so called Principality of Veris. These were not forgotten; in fact, the winds of fate implied that these slights would be righted with the submission of the foul Jack the Puppeteer. And let’s not forget their dishonorable way of backing out all the treaties they made and agreed on. How they all just nullified it. This cannot go unnoticed. The time for pondering had ended, Abdes would vanish into his command tent, for it is time for planning; soon the the march upon his enemy would be upon him. Pride swells in his breast upon the knowledge that the Kingdom of Santegia will march to victory again. It is time for justice again.
  25. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLoytewvn0g To Behead a Serpent “The House of Horen is in itself a dynasty built upon ambition and the insatiable greed for power and domination. Claiming to be the most pure and divine descendants of Horen I, the Horen will always speak of their ancient rights and privileges to preside over all of man, likely from this day ‘till the very end of all time.” -An excerpt from “The Extinguished and the Exalted: An Opus upon the Prominent Dynasties of Humanity, both present and defunct.” drafted by Herbert of Metz in the year of our LORD 1600. The Fortress of Ostwick, circa 1592. The luminescent rays of the shimmering sun beamed down upon the form of three armoured riders, their steads racing in full gallop down the soil-trodden path winding towards the West Gates of Metz. Each of the riders shared a great deal in common - the standard they all bore, for one - checkered blue upon white. The Lorraine Cross brooch was pinned proudly upon each of their chests, a sure sight to all of their devout adherence to the Canonist Faith and the ornately-designed barbute helms donned upon their heads and sealed over their faces. But most distinctly of all, crimson red stains of blood and gore marked their tabards, soaked into the well-sewn cloth. The three-man troupe rode with hunched backs yet with high heads - evidently they all and each felt some shred of shame and despair, though they would not let a single defeat strip them of their pride. “Christophe, Leopold - rear your mounts. We’re nearly to the gate.” The trio brought their mares to a halt as they came to the tight steel bars of Metz’s west gate, each of their heads rearing backward in near unison as they heard a figure emerge from the cover of the citadel balustrade. A simple d’Amaury soldier - the golden cross of Lorraine stretching out upon his chest on a field of green, a nasal helm perched tightly upon his cranium and and an pre-loaded arbalest clutched within his hands. “Halt! Who goes there?!” In a simple physical response, the rider at the group’s head reached up, withdrawing his helmet from upon his head - steely grey-green eyes met with the footsoldier’s strained hazel-brown, and strands of his inky black-locks hung downward to cover his forehead and upper-face. Beads of sweat and moisture rolled down the rider’s porcelain tanned skin, an effect of both the humidity sealed within the confines of his weighted barbute helm and the pure exhaustion that racked his bones. “Robert de Anjou, Count of Cleves - I’ve an audience with his royal majesty Philip.” The soldier’s expression contorted to one of simple surprise, and perhaps a light touch of relief, as he brought his hand upward and cocked his head backward over his shoulder. “Raise the gate!” And so they rose… ~ Philip Owyn was already perched high upon his throne as Robert and his men filed into the throne hall. The youthful king cut a frigid, yet unimposing position upon his marble chair. The youth had matured greatly in appearance since Robert had seen him last - he was a boy of thirteen then, with puffy cheeks and a jovial smile. But now the boy, once simply a Prince of Lorraine, found himself seated upon his brothers throne - his face had took a gaunter, more mature shape and he held no smile upon his lips. And as he spotted Robert’s entry, his gaze uplifted, and a lone hand raised to beckon him forth. “Come forward, Lord Robert.” The de Anjou troupe strided forth with heavy steps, the flocks of gathered nobility and aristocracy gathered about the court swarming to the sides of the hall, allowing a straight, open passage for Count Robert and his men. As the Count Cleves neared closer., he and his bannerman came to a standstill - and immediately dropped down to one knee. “Rise, my lord - you bring news from Ostwick?” With the command, Robert and his two followers stood. “Aye.” he began, beginning to bow his head as threads of shame overtook the aged count. “We could not hold the keep, your majesty - there was no possible way. We had it seized and under our control for no more than a day before a host from Mardon arrived at our doors with a number far greater than our own. They demanded we surrender the fortress to them at once - we did not oblige, and they stormed through our petty, ill-prepared defenses and cut through our number within minutes.” Disgruntled, indecipherable whispers began to echo quietly about the court as the onlookers spoke amongst themselves. A grave moment of silence filled the air of King Philip himself did not utter a word - either in deep contemplation or feeling grave wroth. After some moments, the king was the first to break the silence; “What of the pretender?” he asked. “What of Anna Sophia?” “Alive, regrettably - when we made it into the keep the rebel Queen was nowhere to be found. My men deduced that she managed to scale down the walls as we were breaking in by the way of a rope tied upon the balustrade. Most of her advisors followed suit.” Philip’s brows furrowed downward with grave concern. Palms pressed to the armrests of his marble throne, he steadily rose up to his feet. Pacing to the forefront of the great dais where the lawful Throne of Lorraine stood, the young King opened his mouth to speak. “It would seem, then, that the work of my father is yet to be truly complete - it was only fourteen years ago to this day that the Battle of the Golden Fields was fought; the fight that turned the tides of the Coalition War to the victory our people longed so. And now, another Horen scion - an unlawful pretender with no true claim upon Lorraine and Lotharingia - would seek to cease my throne and enforce yet another oppressive and tyrannical Imperialist regime upon the people of Lorraine-Savoy.” For the briefest of moments, Philip closed his eyes - and when they re-opened, Robert swore he could see a deep, dark glint of fiery determination and ambition beaming in the youth’s eyes. “It shall be war.” the King announced finally. ((Credits to @Proddy for the RP portion)) WARCLAIM Tier Chosen (This cannot be changed after the first warclaim is held): 1 Type of battle: Siege Date And Time: April 23rd, Saturday 3pm EST, 7pm GMT Side A: Kingdom of Lorraine-Savoy loyalists + Allies Side B: Kingdom of Lorraine-Savoy rebels + Allies Location and boundaries: Direct Area: https://gyazo.com/29954fca356f4ee24dd0aadd03fd8340 Surrounding area of battlefield for reference to location: https://gyazo.com/df13205f9fd72716e876ba4afb97758a Terms of Victory Upon Victory For... Victory for the Attackers: All rebel forces are killed, flee the battlefield or lock themselves underground for over 20 mins. Victory for the Defenders: All loyalist forces are killed or flee the battlefield REWARDS Offensive Victory: Loyalists gain ownership of Ostwick. Defensive Victory: Rebels remain in control of the Barony of Ostwick, and have the option to either skirmish the following week or wait for another siege in two weeks time. Rules No status switching. All LoTC rules. No golden apples. No one day alts. Ladders and TNT enabled. No modifications can be made to the Barony of Ostwick and its surrounding area upon the posting of this warclaim.
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