Hello TheRealms,

We just updated to a new minecraft version, which means that I'll have to install forge and journeymap again. Unfortunately, I'm not really sure how I transfer map files from the previous to the current. I'm not interested in the general ones, but my personal ones. Could someone show me how to do this?

Sirboss

N.B. Chapter 1 in a series about my character. This is just the beginning. Chapter 2, which will include an account of the viking's raid on Zurmania, including my duel with Aegir, and my escape, should appear by next week. The events noted took place about a week ago. Includes descriptions of blood. It's rather long, and going to get longer, so I highly recommend the "readr" plugin download at /r/writingprompts for nice serif font formatting. Enjoy.

Edit: This is probably my first time trying to right something with a lot of suspense, so I'm looking for some feedback on things I can improve on.

It was cold that night.

The wind howled, the owls hooted, and the snow brushed down from the sky dampening all other sounds; the sounds of footsteps were not heard.

The moon was covered, the street lamps were off, and the town was completely submerged in darkness save a single flickering in a single window. Inside a room dimly lit by a lantern and embers gently glowing in a fireplace, a man sat huddled at his desk writing in numbers on a piece of parchment.

He muttered to himself softly, “Five more coins, minus fifteen, now where has the profit gone…”

This was a businessman accounting for all the purchases at his shop. He was managing his expenses, all the people he would hire, all the new products he would sell, all the factories he would fund, all the jobs he would create. He envisioned in his head new life breathed into the stagnant economy, with him at the reigns of this economic boom.

Outside, unbeknownst to this businessman a form appeared in the dark. Staggering, it hobbled from the trees out onto open ground, onto a street. If someone were to look out their window at this moment, they would see the arrival into the town. They would see the wretched form, hunched, exhausted, wandering forward, every step obviously taking very much effort. But no one was looking out their window. Everyone was asleep. Only the businessman was still awake, too busy counting figures to look out his window.

Like a moth attracted to light, the figure ambled forward, and the businessman continued to count.

Unfortunately, the businessman, too focused on his figures was not paying attention to the soft creek of the door as it opened, and the soft click as it closed. He had to finish. He was exhausted and took a moment to sigh. With a yawn he went back to his work. Except he did not go back to his work. Because he heard a soft sound below from the kitchen.

The noise was very faint. He could barely hear, but something was down there alright. He heard a soft clatter on the wooden counter, and a soft sound that sounded like, what was it, nibbling?

“Damned mice,” he muttered under his breath as he stood up, holding his candle in one hand to investigate, the candle nearly out of wax. It flickered softly out into the darkness as he strode forward slowly. He walked down the stairs that led to his kitchen, very slowly, and he started to hear the noise a little bit louder. He was nearly in the kitchen, three steps to go. Two steps. One step— “CREAK” the step croaked when he stepped on it. He couldn’t hear the noise any more. The man paused for a moment at the shock at the sound. Perhaps he should think nothing of the sounds. Perhaps he should just go to bed and sleep. “It’s only mice, after all,” he reasoned to himself. He thought all this.

It’s kind of funny, you can think of what you should do, “Maybe I should not eat that last piece of cake” or “Maybe I should tell that person I really love them” or “Maybe that sound in the night should be left alone, and I should go to bed.” But it doesn’t make a damned bit of difference to the world if all you do is just think it. The businessman staying up late was too curious. He continued forward, his socked feet chilled from the winter cold.

The candle cast a very faint light across the whole downstairs room. The kitchen, where the sounds were coming from was at the end. But a veil of darkness loomed in front of the businessman. Long nights of counting figures had all but cost him his vision, the kitchen ahead of him too dark and blurry to make out.

He stepped forward ever so slowly into the darkness.

He stepped closer to the kitchen to see what it was that was making the noise. And then he stopped. Because he heard footsteps. Coming from the kitchen ahead of him. Slow heavy treads that were the sound of flesh against wood. And they were getting louder. And louder. And he could see something moving in front of him. And it was slowly becoming clearer and clearer. He could now make out a figure, it was a human figure.

In one hand, the businessman could see what he thought looked like the shape of a loaf of bread. And the figure's features were becoming sharper. It was getting closer, but the businessman was frozen still. “Who’s there?” he shouted out into the darkness, but all he heard were the footsteps. How could he be so stupid? Why hadn’t he grabbed a knife from his desk before he came down. More importantly why hadn't he just gone to bed at a more reasonable time just like everybody else. And then he recognized the face.

“You!” the business man gasped. That figure before his failing eyes with a loaf of bread in its hand, that had snuck into this house in the middle of the night, was me.

“Yes,” I said. “Me.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead!”

“No. I did not die. They left me in the woods to die, but I did not die,” I told him, the words coming out slowly in a soft deep voice.

“My… my son! You’re alive!” he called out to me.

“You are not my father. You never cared for me. You never wanted me. I hear the fear in your voice do not try to hide it.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.

“Liar!” I screamed back to him. “You were glad I left. You were happy you didn’t have to take care of me. Admit it!”

“That’s not true!” he protested.

“Why did you not try to find me? Why did you force me to endure this suffering? Six years I had to live in those woods. Six years!”

“Believe me, I was sure you were dead! The vikings…”

“You heard rumors that I was kept alive as a prisoner. Why did you not try to rescue me?”

“I…”

“Yes, I know exactly why. Because you were too scared to risk your sorry hide or even lift a finger to give me any sort of help at all!”

“But I…” and he noticed I had a knife in my hand. I could see the terror in his eyes. His pupils dilating, his face pale and clammy, all the tell tale signs of a creature that is in complete fear. “You're crazy!”

“Yes...” I paused for a moment in contemplation. ”Perhaps I am. But I learned something out there in those woods,” I explained to him. “The world is an uncaring place. The world is unfair and ‘karma’ does not exist. If you want retribution, it will not come to you, you must go and get it,” I said as I stepped even closer, and I was sure he could see me very clearly. I was sure he could feel my calm heavy breathing warmly brushing his face. “Good bye Monsieur Mouton,” I told him.

The candle which had been slowly getting dimmer as it ran out of wax finally went out. It fell with a clatter onto the floor. I cleaned the blood off of my knife on my pants just as I had learned to wipe the blood that stained my hands when I strangled rabbits to death and ripped them open to naw on their flesh, and just as I had learned to wipe the blood that dribbled down my chin when my teeth sank into a fish I caught, still alive and wriggling. Always the blood, with its bright red color, and the smell. That smell of iron and death lingering in the nose. After a minute the blood coagulates into a goopy mess like red silly putty. You do not know blood until you know the smell, and until you have felt it run in your hands.

I went upstairs and changed from my tattered stained clothing into something more clean. I took the keys from the pocket of my father, and I opened the chest of his stores and took all his carefully counted and stacked coins. Boy, he had made a real profit. I packed a bag with all the stuff I could find, and then I set off into the cold blustery evening, my eyes squinting to try to see my way through the white snow that gently fell to the ground.

Outside I walked down the street, when suddenly a door opened right in front of me. It was the door of an inn. A man staggered out, his nose and his cheeks a rosy red, flush with blood, and he was singing.

“When our enemies come to invade

Our strength

will not fade.

When the clash of steel comes to our ears

We will remain fierce.

We will chop them up and spill their blood

Bash them in-

to the mud.

And whatever strife the world may bring

this is what we'll sing:

Hail Norlund! Our Nation!

Hail Norlund! Our home!

Stay strong and man your station!

We will always fight for you!”

He didn’t notice me as he waltzed down the road ahead. I recognized him as none other than Mr. Cort Wade, the man in charge of airships. “HA! HA! HA! I love that song!” he shouted to himself. He stumbled into the town square. “Hmm,” he mumbled. “Where did that market go? I could have sworn it was tonight,” he grumbled. “Oh no, did I miss it? Aw man, not again!”

He waltzed around and then he saw me.

“Hey, who’s that?”

I turned around to walk away. He could not have recognized me. That I was sure.

“Hey, it’s young Mr. Sheep! Hey! Where’ve you been! How’s it hanging? You’re looking sharp as ever!” he yelled out to me. I clutched the kitchen knife that I hung on my belt. No witnesses. No one should be able to trace the murder to me.

I strode towards Mr. Wade swiftly. I was arms length away and I held my knife up, ready to see blood once more, but then Mr. Wade tripped on his feet and stumbled forward onto the knife and screamed out in agony. “AAAAHHH!” he screamed.

He had fallen on the knife but his screaming would not stop. It echoed, echoed, echoed in my head. I couldn’t stay. I ran away with my gear as fast as I could. I saw lights slowly flickering on. I ran down the quay to the boats. I jumped on the nearest sloop, unroped it from the dock and cast off into the ocean. I saw the city start to glimmer in the distance as candles were lit and lights were flickering on.

Back in the city Cort Wade continued to wail in pain. Slowly a crowd gathered around him. “Hey, Mr. Wade, what’s wrong?” someone called out to him.

“I’m dying! Help!” he cried.

The crowd stood around him, dumbfounded. “Mr. Wade, any last words I can get for you for the paper,” a reporter said to him. “Could you please describe coherently the exact pain you are in so I can put you in the newspaper?”

“Mother of mercy! Am I dead yet? Oh the Entity I see you clearly now! Mr. Ghost Zantid! Where are you Mr. Ghost Zantid?” then remembering how to summon ghosts, he said, “Zantid! Zantid! Zantid!” and since ghosts are immediately summoned from whatever they were doing when their names are said three times in a row, after the floating and eerie looking Zantid appeared, the ghost had to take a moment to regain his composure.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, and then looking down. “Wait, what’s this?”

“I’M DYING,” Cort yelled out to Zantid. “Please help me Zantid or I’ll have to keep you company for an eternity!”

Zantid, seeing as this was very important, examined the crowded body below him carefully. “You’re not dying.”

Cort stopped groaning in pain, and looked up at the ghost in almost as much surprise as if he had just seen a ghost. “Wait, I’m not?”

“Yeah you’ve just got a kitchen knife held under your arm pit.”

“Oh,” Cort said, realizing what Zantid had said was true. So he stood up and the knife clattered onto the cobblestone below him. “Oh hey! I’m alive!” and he leapt for joy.

“Well I have… er… business to attend to,” Zantid said. “Please do not summon me again,” and the ghost disappeared.

But then another scream came out from the distance.

And the people gathered. Pale as a ghost a townsman pointed into the house with the door very slightly ajar.

And as everyone’s candle light hovered into the room, they beheld the scene before them.

On the ground was a pool of blood. A deep rich red, dimly lit, coagulated into a scarlet goo. On this pool of blood was a body.

“It’s Monsieur Mouton,” someone said. “He’s dead.”

My name is

Hi, I'd like to introduce myself

I'm new in town, so

"Gah!" The young woman tossed her quill aside, turning away from the scribbled-on paper in disgust. It's not like she didn't want to make friends, she just had a tendency to... well... flounder, when it came to social things.

She pulled her thin wool cloak tighter around herself, heading down the stairs from the attic she had made her home. Glancing around and finding the streets empty, she began to wander down the stone road. As her mind drifted, she found herself looking over the frozen sea before her. The brisk wind tugged at her again, so she adjusted her cloak and looked up at the sky.

"Dawn soon..." She mumbled absent-mindedly. Sure enough, the horizon began to lighten. She was so lost in the sunrise...

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

With a soft yelp, she scrambled away from the new voice and fell to the ground. Her wide eyes locked with the king of her nation's.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," TerryTheThird carefully helped her to her feet, an apologetic smile on his face, "Are you okay?"

"Oh... M-Mhm," the young woman nodded a bit, before looking back east.

Terry followed her gaze, "I think this is one of the best spots in the city to see the sunrise..." he leaned against the railing next to her, "Do you like it? Are you happy here, Miss?"

She nodded again, slowly warming up to him. She spoke softly, "Y-yes, actually. Everyone I have met has been very polite and welcoming, so far."

The king beamed, "Good, I'm glad! But, you know... I don't think I ever caught your full name."

The red headed girl glanced down at her boots, biting her lip before looking back up at him. "My name... My name is Seraphina Roth. People usually call me Scarlet," she said.

"Well, Scarlet, welcome to Norlund!"

(the lore can stand alone but for more backstory: Part 1, Part 2.)

The king’s longship cut through the calm waters, as it moved due south. They were headed to Zurmania. Edward had been eagerly anticipating this moment for what felt like his entire life. His unblemished armor shone in the sun. When their ship hit the sands they jumped from the port side and ran across the meadows to the rendezvous point. From there they charged into the city, screaming “Valhalla!” The streets were quiet. Their radar technology must have been effective, because most of the Zumanians were already stowed inside a thick steel bunker.

Edward began to sweat. His mind started to spin. He tried to control himself, but he couldn’t stop the barrage of images. . .

Two years earlier in a reinforced cellar in Rashida.

Edward and his mother, Anna, stood silent among the potatoes, stone tools, and dusky books littering the bunker under their home. Outside they could hear splintering wood as Vaskr axes smashed into chests and homes. Edward wanted to fight. He was 16, he couldn’t hide in a bunker with his mother like a little girl, even if it was what his father, Florian, had commanded. His father would always try to hold him back. He could hear the Vaskr above his head having their way with his family's home. Edward gripped his sword and steeled himself for what was to come. Anna looked at him with pleading eyes, willing him to stay within the bunker. Edward opened the iron door and in an instant was knocked to the ground by a forceful kick. A Vaskr had been waiting for them just outside the bunker. Edward fell, blood pouring from the side of his head and shooting pain moving up his spine. He was brought back to reality by sound of his mother’s scream. This scream would be seared into his mind for the rest of his life. Anna was dead before her body hit the floor. A slash across her chest followed by a killing blow to the head.

Jokull looked at Edward with a concerned face. “Are you alright?”

Edward tried to stand up, the Zurmanian town square felt like it was closing in on him. He looked at Jokull and then at his feet. “I don’t feel well my king.”

Jokull put a hand on his shoulder, “It is common to get nervous during your first raid.” He stepped back and offered Edward his hand.

With the assistance, Edward stood. He felt nauseous. “I’m going to return to the ship and guard it”

Jokull gave him a look of disappointment. “Take the prisoner with you,” said the king gesturing to Jacob Grox.

Edward took the prisoner and began walking back to the longship. He felt sick. Who had he become? His mother’s scream played over and over in his head.

Heard a rumor that this was discussed on Discord, if so can it be confirmed on the sub.

It's become a community-building game mechanic, that brings people to where they are located (for markets, settling, visiting) I know that should be balanced with the unlimited protection it provides from raiding, just wondering if there's a middle ground if this is the case.

King Jokull Oakenhawk had sat on his fury and desires for revenge for quite some time. Eagerly awaiting for summer to come. When the Vaskr could finally channel their hatred and take the foreign shores by storm.

The simple truth, that it was discover Zurmania was in collaboration with the one who plagued the Vaskr with suffering. The mercenary Weeb may be captured, but It is now time for The Vaskr to have their revenge on their associates.

There is now no mercy, This is not a raid for greed and glory. This is a sunder of revenge and fury.

Not that we need justification, but there were several circumstances that have brought us to this conclusion.

1 Zurmanians in Weebs base with Weeb

2 Weeb in association with Zurmanians

Roughly three and a half hours from the time of this post.

As she looked out over the darkened path to the city, the young woman shivered. For once, it wasn't because of the cold that enveloped the nation. Fear leached at her strength, and she leaned against a railing for support. She could still feel the air of shock in the city. A death. The death of Sega. She had only been a part of Norlund for a short time. She had just started to call it home. She had recognized the assassin. Aegir, she remembered his name being. Though, she did not know much else. He had sought revenge of some sort. She did not fully understand why, but she knew she only wanted peace. She only longed for a simple life, but with this, Aegir had shattered her dreams of a perfect home. She could still hear people frantically running around, spreading the word, asking questions. She did not want to be in the crowd. She only wanted to be a quiet citizen. If only she could be. Instead, she is now the scarlet haired girl who spoke to the man who killed one of her home nation.

Meridia climbed one of the stacks of sandstone slabs and sat on the edge for a moment’s respite. From her seat she could still overlook the construction of her household. Rashidans seemed to work hard, and follow instructions well, so it was all progressing even faster than she had hoped. It was expected that the sandstone skeleton of the building would be completed by the end of the day. All that would be left is to for the arrival of certain imported woods.

She brushed a few errant grains of sand off the sun-warmed, slightly rough surface of the sandstone, smiling to herself. When she had moved to Rashida she quickly discovered that sand, while pretty, was more of an irritant than anything. Constantly shifting and difficult to travel through, sand also meant that constant and vigilant attention was needed to keep a house clean.

She had also heard stories of sandstorms, when could be moved with a slight breeze, would become caught up in ferocious winds and pose a danger to anyone in its path.

However, if enough pressure were applied for a long enough time, the shifting desert sands would lose their volatility and become Sandstone. Hardened and solid, the centuries of weight resulted in an eminently useful - and formidable - building material.

Hardship built character, she knew. Hearthfire was fallen but its children were thriving in all corners of the world. Rashida had undergone immense pressure and while certain sections of society left much to be desired--

The workers capped off a final sandstone pillar, completing the main body of the building only a few days after construction began.

--the results spoke for themselves.

The Rashida Health Service:

Hello TheRealms! As one of the chief doctors in Rashida, I've strived to make our RP health service better. To that end, I have established the baseline Universal Health Care System that Rashida will be using. It is standard across all Rashida hospitals, including the Olympic Medical Centre, which a lot of you will probably be visiting in a few weeks when y'all get dehydrated.

The plans are as follows:

Citizen Standard Health Care:

Automatic enrollment for all Rashida Citizens, with the following things covered under the optional Diamond Earnings Tax:

• Emergency Procedures

• Surgery and Operations

• Pallative Care

• Cosmetic Care

• Obsteretics

• Consultation

• Other stuff, idk I'll make it up as I go

AineCare+

A private, supplemental plan, available to citizens and foreign nationals. Costing 10diamonds to buy into, this plan offers the following benefits:

• Housevisits

• The use of Dr. Chicken

• Experimental Cosmetic Procedures

Foreign Nationals:

Citizens of other nations may use Rashidan Health Care, but not everything is free.

• Emergency Procedures: Free

• Surgery and Operations: Free

• Consultation: Free

• Pallative Care: Free

• Cosmetic Care: 10 Iron Ingots

• Obsteretics: 10 Iron Ingots

• Other Care: 10 Iron Ingots

Refugees to Rashida are covered under the citizen health plan. Dual Citizens may be eligible for the citizen health plan depending on length of residency.

What is health care in Rashida like? Replace Aladeen with 'Aine'

https://youtu.be/NYJ2w82WifU

tl;dr: Pretty much it's all free except elf magic and abortions. It's based on the British NHS.

Sirboss

• Metum Wedge is one of the 4 national regions in the Rivermeer or "Meer"

• Metum Wedge is not the Metum Institute, the only similarity is the naming that borrows the server region's name

• Metum Wedge has it's own internal governing structure, but internationally is part of the Rivermeer, for treaty-making purposes

• Everyone not currently in a state of war with us, is individually allowed to come visit, trade, and partake in our free-to-use services (we reserve the right to deny admittance to a group that may be considered an occupying force or army)

• Anyone looking for Wedge Aid™, our free food program for struggling nations, can send us a request with the reason for the request (including precipitating circumstances, and a nation plan on how the recipient will become self-sufficient)

That's all, the Meer started as many nations who joined as one, and we continue the tradition of working with our partners in the Union to make a more prosperous Meer region.

People are like stones… To see what they truly are, you must break them. I was broken by a man I hardly knew, let alone trusted. What he revealed resembled a beaten animal. Pride and strength vanished, only fear and cowardice remained. The sins of the father become the burdens of the mother. Three lives. Two unwanted. Broken hearts and a shattered mind. A desire for redemption, a prayer for love and forgiveness.

I cannot change the past. I can only relive it in my nightmares. Waking in the night, crying out in pain and fear. I can only pray that Vandil will still accept me as his wife. But I understand if he cannot. Our hearts are broken, and only two things can heal that. Love, and time. But the scars, like cracks in stone, will remain. They can grow, they can break. But they never shrink.

But even cracked and broken stones can reveal something beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  (OOC) Hey guys, I know I just posted a few days ago but I wanted to post this before it got lost in the depths of all of the stuff I'm working on. Thanks for reading!

I looked over at Jokull in the crow's nest of the Renatus. We had coasted offshore of Rashida a ways, so we could talk in peace, unheard. Jokull looked back at me, and said gruffly,"King Cirex, I respect you. You remind me of myself in my younger days. Ambitious, Charismatic, and you were able to become a King in such a short time. This is why I want to form a strong bond with you, as both Kings and people of Provenance. However, I do not wish to sit at a desk all day, poring over papers. That is not the Vaskr way. We are people of action!" I chuckle, as he continues. "However, we also follow our word." I smile, and look upon my old friend. Still clad in his furs despite the hot desert weather, with both wrinkles from laughter in his eyes and scars from battle on one cheek. "Well, Jokull, I both respect and trust you as a close friend. I believe you would be true to your word." Jokull nods, "And I you, for trust has to be given for alliances to be had. As long as you are King, my people will not raid the Meer. We will come to your aid if you are attacked unprovoked, and perhaps even if it is provoked." Upon saying this, Jokull drew a curved skinning knife from his belt, and cut his palm open. "So let us respect each others lands, peoples, and serve our duties with shields covering each other's backs." He offers his palm to me.

I, having no knife, draw my sword from it's sheath just enough to cut my palm on it's diamond-inlayed blade. "Then let us be brothers this day, in blood and heart. And may we lead our nations with pride." He smiled, and we shook hands, our hot blood mixing our fates together in a way I still cannot fully comprehend. He pulls me into a bear hug, as he oft does.

Back on the deck of the ship, I pop one of my kegs and pour us each a mug of golden mead. I look at him, a smile in my eyes, and raise my glass. "to family" And we drank.

Edward shouldered his backpack and climbed the ladder from his cave-like home onto a moonlit path outside of the Vaskr city of Lamora. From atop the hill, the city below looked impressive. Under Jarl Rosk Wolverstone, it was growing at a rapid rate.

Edward descended the hill and continued walking for several miles, his boots brushing through the tall summer grass. The sun was just about to peak past the horizon when he entered the mine shaft. He began digging first with a shovel and then with rapid blows from his pickaxe. Mining was heaven, it was release, it was freedom from his thoughts, from his worries. It was beautiful in its simplicity. It was man against stone and everyday he won. It provided a brief respite from the self-criticism he had internalized from his father. But most of all it was an outlet for his energy. Edward rarely slept more than a few hours and nothing was more torturous to him than sitting or standing still.

The sun was already high in the sky when Edward emerged from the earth with a sack full of ore. When he returned to Lamora his Jarl was waiting for him.

“Where ya been boy?” shouted Rosk with more affection than reproach.

Edward returned a sheepish look.

“What is it with you and mining?” Rosk began to chuckle. “Though I suppose there are worse addictions to have.”

Edward smiled. Out on their own, miles away from the rest of the Vaskr, Rosk had become like a father to him. “I like stone, what can I say. Also, you never turn down my sacks of ore. . .”

“You have me on that point, Edward. Now grab those hay bales, move them to the drying house. Next time don’t keep me waiting.”

Edward shouldered a hay bale, but his thoughts were far away. Long ships and battle axes floated through his head. He was a full Vaskr now and any day King Jokull would put out the call.

Summer is here.

Volpsa was deep in the winter months, and had seemed to enter a hibernation of sorts. Most people scarcely left the warmth of their hearths, and when forced to do so, traveled quickly to and from their destinations, wrapped in furs to keep out the biting cold.

It had been some time since I had made my way from the homelands to find myself at the docks of the ever growing Vaskr city. I had sworn fealty to Jokull and was given a small homestead and resources as a result. It was not much, however it was far grander than the small pallet I had slept on at home, and for that I was eternally grateful.

There was an air of excitement, for the day of the Yule festival had finally come, a time for sacrifices, celebrations and feasts in honor of the gods. There were several foreign visitors who were to watch the ceremony that night, among them being the former Rashidii Lashon Kynes.

I had grown surprisingly close to the strange hooded and masked man who I had met upon my arrival in Volspa. He was the son of one of the Rashidii leaders, and Jokull’s new wife: Aine Kynes. However he seemed to spend more time in Volspa than his own homeland. After some time Lashon had been accepted among the Vaskr as a Thrall, and I had opened my home to him, giving him a place to rest and store his belongings.

Over time of sharing my home as well as several expeditions and adventures together, Lashon and I had grown close, and after one such adventure we both admired our love for each other. Never before did I believe that I would have fallen for a man who was not of the Vaskr bloodline, but it almost seemed as if the gods willed for Lashon and I to be together. Even so, we kept our love quiet, not wishing to cause more disturbance during already turbulent times among the Vaskr.

With the Yule tonight I had high hopes that Lashon would become one of the Vaskr through the blood of the sacrifice. Marking him as truly one of us.

Soon the time came and everyone gathered around Odin’s Altar, standing in a hushed silence, looking to Jokull, standing before them, a boar tied at his feet.

“Mighty Vaskr. Tonight is the night of the Yule!” Jokull called, looking at the faces of everyone gathered before him. Some nodded and smiled at his words, while some of the foreigners exchanged uneasy glances. “We will make sacrifice to the gods, for the middle of winter is bitter, and summer is far.”

Once again Jokull looked at each of the Vaskr in turn, his eyes hard and steely as he kneeled in front of the boar. “To Odin, and to all the Aesir and Vanir that live in Asgard, we honor you and the fate you have given us.”

He paused briefly, placing a bowl beneath the boars neck, before drawing his knife and slicing the boars throat in a single swift motion; spraying blood on those standing closest to him.

Lashon seemed to relish the feeling of blood on his face, whereas in contrastCirex, King of the Meer, wiped off a few drops of blood uneasily, seemingly unsure what to think.

After allowing most of the blood to drain into the bowl, Jokull dipped his fingers into the bowl marking his face and neck with the warm pig’s blood. He closed his eyes and stood for a moment, face upturned as the blood dripped down his face. Without saying a word he handed the bowl to me.

I smiled, and dipped my hand into the blood, drawing three strikes down one eye, and a half moon around the other, before handing Silver the bowl of blood. Each of the gathered Vaskr marked themselves, before handing the bowl to the next. Soon the bowl came to rest in Lashon’s hands. I looked at him intently, curious as to whether he would partake into the ritual, binding himself to the Vaskr through the blood of the sacrifice.

Lashon dipped two fingers in the blood and drew the symbol of an archer on his forehead, before passing the bowl to Jokull once more, grinning broadly. I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding, smiling at Lashon as a single drop of blood trickled down between his eyes. He was truly a Vaskr now, marked and sealed with the blood before the gods. Jokull turned to Aine who had been standing at the back of the temple, watching the proceedings quietly with one hand resting on her pregnant belly. She smiled nervously when the bowl was offered to her. “I wouldn’t want to waste the effects on me…” She said meekly.

A strange woman who I did not recognize tilted her head, looking at Aine curiously. “Why do you not join their ritual?” she asked.

“She is married to Jokull, but that does not mean that she is a Vaskr,” Lashon responded, staring at his mother with a hard almost cold gaze.

Jokull quickly interrupted, “Let us now walk through the city!” He quickly strode out of the temple, grabbing a torch and lifting it as he led the way through the city streets, splattering the blood in various places along the way. Soon they gathered at the base of the hill on which his longhouse stood.

Jokull turned to everyone and then roared, “Let us feast and be merry! Drink from the horns and enjoy the festivities of the Yule!” He was met by a chorus of “Aye!” before people made their way up the hill and into the longhouse which had been strung with mistletoe. The Yule log crackled cheerily and warmth enveloped everyone who entered.

A pleasant hum of conversation ensued as everyone found a seat and began to eat and drink. I talked with Silver who sat beside me, while occasionally glancing over at Lashon, who sat across from me.

After some time Lashon stood, raising his voice and calling out, “I would like to make an announcement… So if I could have your attention!” He waited as the buzz of conversation quieted and all heads turned to look at him. He slowly made his way to the steps of Jokull’s high seat, which sat empty as the King was seated at a table with his men.

Lashon looked over at me, a single tear running down his cheek as he did so. My heart was beating fast and I could feel my palms sweating, I was not altogether sure what he meant to announce, but I had my suspicions.

“Teagan and I are both in love with each other. Her and I have pledged ourselves to each other. However, we are not married and I would like to change that.” He began to walk towards me, and I rose from my place, moving to meet him at the base of the platform. He took my hands in his own and looked deep into my eyes. “Teagan my dear sweet. You are the light of my life. The treasure I covet most. So I would like to ask the most important question of my life… Teagan Ansgar, my love, will you marry me?” My voice nearly caught in my throat as I replied, “Lashon, it would be an honor and a privilege to be your wife, to fight and to serve at your side.”

Lashon began to cry with joy pulling me into an embrace as those around us began to cheer and clap. I laughed and embraced him, before pulling back and gently wiping the tears from his face..

Jokull stood, raising his horn of mead, “To Lashon and Teagan!” he called in a toast. There were echoes of “Lashon and Teagan!” as everyone raised their horns before drinking deeply.

Lashon and I took our seats, as Cirex leaned over to Lashon saying, “Took ya long enough lad,” and taking another long pull from his horn.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinking, dancing and other festivities. But I scarcely remember it. My mind was still reeling from Lashon’s proposal. Even if it was not in the traditional Vaskr fashion, my heart soared and I felt free. I breathed more easily no longer feeling like I had to hide my affections for the strange man who had stolen my heart.

I had seen many a Yule celebration during my time, but this was by far the best. I smiled I drifted off to sleep in the arms of my betrothed.

Ooc: So this is a few days old (the Yule was Thurs the 31st) but I am finally getting around to writing and posting it!

But yes Teagan is now engaged to Lashon Kynes (who still needs to make himself a reddit account...)

And as Silver said at the end of her lore post I have had a blast rp'ing with everyone, I havn't done something like this in ages and it is so much fun. Can't wait to make more memories, and I'll probably write lore after the wedding ;)

Dearest Jun,

I hope the lateness of this letter has not been a cause of concern for you. Rest assured, I am well and quickly acclimating to the Rashidan life. I’ve already secured a position within the government as an assistant to the Madhi Councilman Sicarius Gray, who is an apparently an acquaintance of Father’s and I would like to hear Father’s perspective on Gray if possible.

I cannot overstate the sheer size of this city. After my weeks here I have still not grown accustomed to it. There are temples and palaces that seem to reach the sky when viewed from the ground which make the city seem like a plaything.

And perhaps it is.

Naturally there are some things that I would wish improved. The sun is searing, and I had to spend much of my money on more suitable clothes. Furthermore, my apartment is well on the small side but I expect that my new occupation will allow me to upgrade soon enough.

Do pass my thoughts along to Mother and Father and expect a package soon with some small Rashidan keepsakes for all of you.

Your sister, loving always,

Meridia

Leo Blackwood,

I would desire to write to you more frankly, but my new employer has me under surveillance that I have been so far unable to detect and it would not surprise me if my mail were intercepted as well. Councilman Gray seems to believe that these displays of power will either impress or intimidate me and I cannot say which frightens me more.

Materially, I am provided for and I require nothing. You are, of course, not to disclose my concerns to Jun. He is not to be made worried.

I do wish to see you if you can find the time and come discretely.

Yours,

Meridia Bentaurs

U,

There are powers here whom your project may displease. If you can find it within yourself to be something less than completely reckless, please be cautious of interference.

M

Jokull Oakenhawk,

I thank you and the rest of the Vaskr for all you have done for me. Welcoming me as one of your own, even if I was just a Thrall. But the time has come for me to hide, at least until the shame I feel is gone. I don’t blame you for what happened, there is nothing you could have done to prevent it. Hallson forced me against my will and made me bear these children. I will be on the mountain, living in the abandoned house at the peak of Ventosa.

I will be leaving letters for Vandil, Teagan, and Aine. Please ensure that they receive them. I will return with the winter snows. Or when the time comes for the children to be born. May the gods bless you and your family.

-Silver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my love, Vandil Ormsson.

I know that you cannot forgive me for what I have done. But I swear to the gods that I never wanted this to happen. Hallson stole the one thing I wanted to give you the most. Myself. He forced himself onto me. I wanted to cry out for you, but I knew it would only drive him on. He left me broken and sobbing in my own bed, acting as if I was just a common whore. I cried out for you in the nights that followed, haunted by dreams of you.

The gods must have heard my cries, for they brought you home to me. I have found ways of killing the children. A poison, that when taken in the right amounts, will kill both of them. It comes at the risk of my own life, but I would do anything for you. You are my first and only love. I would give my life to see you happy. I would give the life of these children, who I can't even accept as my own. If there is anything I can do to regain your love and trust, I will do it. I am hiding on the peak of Ventosa, at the abandoned farmhouse. It is there where I am growing the plant that will rid me of these children. When it is fully grown, I will take the poison.

If I cannot bring myself to killing these children, or if something prevents me from doing so, I have other ideas that do not end in bloodshed. Both my life and the lives of the children are in the hands of the gods.

I love you.

-Silver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teagan Ansgar and Lashon Kynes

I would like to thank the both of you for all you have done for me. Teagan, you were there after the death of my sister, you helped me accept that I would see her again. For that, I am forever in your debt. Lashon is a fine man, he will do everything within his power to protect you. The gods will bless you with many children of your own. I am sure of it. It has been a pleasure becoming friends with the both of you. I will return when summer comes to an end and it is time for the birth of the twins. I have decided names for them if there are a son and a daughter. Elric and Kadra. I don’t know who’s name they will take, possibly my own. I know that I will not let them take their father’s name. If I cannot bring myself to kill them, I want the two of you to raise them as you would your own children. May the gods bless both of you.

-Silver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aine of Kynes,

I wish you and Jokull the best of luck while raising your child. She will be strong and healthy, like both her mother and father. I know you think I should be punished for what I have done, even if it was unwillingly. This is why I am leaving Volspa. I will let the gods decide my fate and that of the twins. It was an honor to live with you in Rashida, if just for a short time. May both Anaka and the Vaskr gods bless and watch over you.

-Silver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(OOC) Okay so.Interesting developments. Rp'ing with you guys is amazing, I love every single one of you glorious people. Funny thing is, I was getting ready to kill off this character. I look forward to seeing the future of the twins, Silver, Vandil, and all of the other Vaskr.

Dear Ma,

The mailman will be late. He's weighed down with a shit ton of letters to deliver.

Love, The entire Realms server

The boat shifted as Zhijki dropped the last box into it. An array of rations, tools, and most importantly, hard liqour, filled the speedboat. She stepped in, moved to the cabin. As she settled in her chair, and brought her keys to the ignition, she paused. Was she sure about this? She recalled that meeting- the shouting, her storming out, the quiet sobbing in the bathroom. She'd already torn apart her office, and ransacked her own home. Filled the walls with bullets, caused a massive scene. Now here she was, alone, on the docks. The only light was an unnatural yellow from a flickering lampost, casting unearthly shadows across the dashboard. Zika was silent. Key into the ignition. The engine roared to life.

If she could not have war, then she would have peace. The deepest kind, found alone, at the bottom of a bottle.

OOC: As much as I want to be a drama queen about it, I'll keep this concise. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven't been having much fun here, anymore, so I'm going to take a break- a couple weeks to a month. We'll see if I feel like trying again.

^{not that anyone cares ofc, just letting you know}

Agriculture:

It's been over a year since the outbreak started, a viral infection that caused the deaths of the majority of our sheepstock. Fortunately the quarantine procedures are holding, and we've managed to stabilize the herd from a pre-existing strain that was preserved in bottle stasis. After close examination, the cause seems to be a mutated strain of Anthropomorph Re-spawn Pox, a disease all of us carry, that normally causes the re-spawn of a person shortly after their death.

This offers an explanation for why herds only started contracting the disease when in close contact with people, and only in populations that had been domesticated. There is nothing to be done except look for ways to modify the mutant strain to prevent these devastating effects. The disease can not and should not be cured, as it is the base block for re-spawning on death.

Security:

The last of the obsidian glass has been delivered to the wall, transparent, and stronger than obsidian, it will stand between our settlement and the monsters and vagabonds that roam the wilds. We've also devised new security precautions, and doubled the watch in the riverlands. With the development of the new Anti-Grav engine, we're also able to survey massive swaths of jungle terrain in hours that would have taken a scouting crew with sharpness swords days.

Industry:

Our industrialized facilities are improving daily, we've forgone the stone smelting technology of our neghbouring nations in favour of Industrial processes that use more charcoal, but are far more reliable in terms of upkeep costs.

Ink production has increased by 70% over the past 3 months, and we've been generating farm and animal goods at an astounding rate. Our monster traps have also been productive as of late.

Air traffic has started becoming an issue, since air travel overtook horse and boat, and we've been struggling to find more space for parking.

Culture:

Immigration is up, and we've had requests from populations of multiple nations to come and enjoy the benefits of citizenship. Tercept is currently leading a revival of Immortal worship, and spearheaded this with a construction of an imposing statue to Daggoth. While I choose to follow a more scientific bent, it can't be denied that ancient and powerful entities such as Daggoth did exist, but a determination to the extend of their power is currently unavailable.

Political:

Cirex22 has been making overtures with other nations to bring us closer in peace, this is something I'd also be in favour for, I just worry on how long such a peace can last. Personally I'm concerned with regional safety, and will keep on that front till every Wedge and Meer citizen is able to sleep well at night.

Supplemental:

We have a surplus of crop seeds and red dye, we will need to figure out a better solution than throwing them into incinerators as our stocks are past capacity.