Topics

1

Development / Well I guess I've changed from noble to sailor

« on: September 26, 2013, 06:35:47 PM »

So Aurvandil was destroyed. I'm sure the majority of you are cheering. anyways, I'm moving my dwilight character, via sea routes, to a new realm and this is what i get:

Cobalt Gulf
You are currently holding in this sea zone.

This is an isolated sea, you can not reach other sea zones from here.       This is the open ocean, you can not see land.

99.9% sure both of those are false. dev team: GOGOGOGO

p.s. thanks

2

General Talk / Babinga bow

« on: April 16, 2013, 09:26:06 PM »

Recently I undertook the task of making a longbow. I finished it yesterday and it came in at 66 inches long, and 45 pounds at 29 inches of draw. The handgrip wood is Babinga and the limbs are bamboo. Let me know what you think!

3

BM General Discussion / Gold as an adventurer

« on: November 23, 2012, 10:19:04 PM »

How much gold have you had in your possesion as an adventurer? i currently have 103 gold from monster farming and i feel pretty accomplished.

4

Dwilight / The Marrocidenian war

« on: October 07, 2012, 10:31:07 PM »

Since this war hasn't had a topic, well at least before now, and has been hijacking various other threads, I decided to make this thread for all your war predictions, senseless rambling, Crazy glaumringing, and Aurvandil hate.

First up, What do y'all think will happen now that Aurvandil has taken paisly and D'Hara no longer has any geographic connection to the Vienorsmoot?

5

Roleplaying / Paisland battle roleplay-the day after

« on: October 02, 2012, 03:36:58 AM »

Calm. Such a drastic change from the battle. There were no more trumpets or the sound of steel rings clinking together. Only an eerie silence remained. Though deep down he could still hear, still feel, the battle that had raged.
Drage Lanyon had awoken two days in a row to the sounds of trumpets calling men to arms. Once was reality, but the second time was only an echo of the first. He had always been told that the eyes would be the worst part killing, but the screams and murmurs of the nearly dead were what haunted his dreams. On the outside, he was hard granite and steel though. These past two war filled years had taught him nothing good comes from showing your emotions.
His thoughts went back to Norrdir and the winter snow. The young children would be riding down frozen hills right now. Their fathers would be in search of deer or fishing to sustain their families through this trying time. He almost missed that hard desolate life.
Almost. For, through it all, Drage had come to learn that he loved Aurvandil. He loved the chivalry and the Capital City. Candiel’s metropolitan feel was much more attractive than the rustic, almost squalorly feel of Nifelheim. He loved the weather and the people. The military precision awed him and had become ingrained in him in the year he had lived here. His leaders seemed infallible and he would nearly follow them to the Ruins of Walfurgisnacht and expect to make it back.
Though most of all, he loved the battles. The primal fear and physical exertion melded into one feeling that was a cross between terror and excitement. He started to remember it now: the ladders at the wall and the fighting when it spilled over into the bailey. Here the High Sovereigns unit striking down men left and right, capturing noble after noble. There the fierce charge of Magistrate Perth’s cavalry and their beating back. Then he remembered his own fight. Arrows struck down his soldiers and several we killed or wounded in the melee but finally surrounding the enemy knight and his capturing him. That was when the feeling was the highest, after he had bested an equal in a primordial death duel and took him hostage. No amount of nightmares or screams of men could ruin that.


I think I've decided to model Drage after victarion greyjoy. Just because victarion is my favorite character in the ASOIAF books and I feel I can do a lot with that role

6

BM General Discussion / If your realm..

« on: September 19, 2012, 11:10:42 PM »

was a real life country, which country would it be? I'm in Aurvandil and Tara. Tara would be the UK. Aurvandil would be a cross between America and the USSR.

7

BM General Discussion / Time and the seasons.

« on: September 05, 2012, 05:06:58 AM »

How would it be correct to RP the change of seasons compared to the flow of real time? Would 1 season be 3 months or is it really 20 something in game days? I just feel weird seeing the seasons change and saying I haven't been in one place for a long time.

8

Helpline / My adventurer is stuck

« on: July 11, 2012, 09:32:52 PM »

I had about 35 fatigue on George Lanyon and told him to take a boat from Golden Farrow to Port Raviel. He used all his 16 hours and travel said their was 1 hour left on the trip. about 18 hours later i'm still stuck traveling and fatigue has jumpy up to 60 not allowing me to view anything and i'm not gaining hours to rest only fatigue. Can someone unstick my adventurer?

9

Roleplaying / The last charge

« on: July 04, 2012, 04:58:26 AM »

So this is the RP I wrote before the last battle of Summer dale on the island of dwilight. Their are some references to an early RP I wrote but nothing major. hope y'all enjoy it.

 The smell of burning pitch hung heavy in the air. Wisps of smoke hung low like fog in a swamp. What would we a pitch black field was now a war camp filled to the brim with tents, mules and men. The Bloodstars hung high in the sky, an ill omen for his men. Drage had once believed in the power of those stars, but no longer. He had renounced his faith as he planned to renounce the lives of many Morekians in a short, a sadly short, time. But the camp around him was all that mattered right now. These men around him, the last free men of the north, were all that mattered. The thought popped up again when he said this that Libero, his mortal enemy, was still free, but they weren't. They we're Moreks whipping boy, Morek's slave.
  As these thoughts went on, Drage Lanyon's mood worsened. He had always been a happy person but these last months of siege and cold had drained that from him. Sleek as a cat his captain entered the tent. Calvin reminded him very much of a cat. A skinny tom that had spent his life fighting in the alleys of glorious Nifelheim. His rough, scarred face showed the marks of a hundred battles and the way he postured showed he was never easy, always cautious.
 Yet tonight Calvin had a different look in his eyes. Drage had seen it many times the past couple months. It was part fear and part doubt. Fear in the thought of facing superior numbers. Doubt in Drage himself. He thought he had trained it out of his men by long hours training and many mile marches, but he would never get it out of Calvin. Calvin knew better. He knew few, if any, of those boys that He and Drage had put through a cold hell by training would survive the next 12 hours. Yet, he was still their, in his commander's tent waiting for Drage's orders.
"How are the men Calvin?"
"As you might expect, my lord, but the training has done them good. They aren't the rag tag band that fought here last time. We have true soldiers out their."
 A smile creeped upon Drage's lips. "Good. The time is almost upon us friend." He stood "help me with my breastplate."
 His armor was plain and simple. A steel breast plate with mail underneath, a bucket helm, and a pair of greives. He could not afford pauldrons nor gauntlets. Instead, he hoped his horses agility would save him if it came to hand to hand combat. He armed himself with a kopis instead of a longsword. He had loved the beaty of that type of single edged sword since he was a boy and when riding it would work much better than an unwieldy longsword. This was the one thing that was excessively decorated. Its outer spine was plated in gold and a sapphire was encrusted in the curl of its hilt.
 As he strapped on his sword belt a small boy entered through the flap in his tent. "Malord!" he said and practically fell down onto his knee. "The Knight Commander he...huh huh huh.. he." The boy had obviously ran from the Knight Commander's tent. "out with it boy!" Calvin yelled. "No need, I get the message. Calvin ready the men I have words to say to them." And with that he donned his helmet and strode out of the tent towards the stables.
----
 His black stallion had a nasty temper to him and that was something Drage was extremely proud of. It was the only horse drage had found capable of carrying him in full battle regalia. He had a certain sway in his gait that Drage liked and that movement comforted him now as he headed towards a group of men that would most likely be destroyed in a few hours.
He tried his best not to look at the faces lest this night haunt him for the rest of his life.
"Men, soon you shall fight for this great realm. I am an honest man and shall not lie to you, but this may be the last battle Summerdale ever fights. Some of you might ask 'Why fight it then' and I shall tell you. We fight this battle not for Summerdale, nor for honor and glory, even though their is much to be had. We fight this battle for our children. So that ours sons can say their father were not cowards and have someone to be proud of. We fight for a legacy of truth and honesty and responsibility. Over those three hills lie the Morekians and we shall give them a gift. That gift will be the edge of our swords with every last ounce of strength and lifeblood behind them! So let us fight today and not look back and don't look forward because the only thing that matters is now! Forward! and let the dawn chase us right down into and through the Morekian host! Forward out of the dawn!" As his men cheered Drage looked East and the rising sun died the sky red: the color of blood.