Cool people.
keep trying to kill my characters though.
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TERENASâ SHORE 36-02-1
It was on that day, the first of the second month in the Year 628 K.C. that the rangers ventured out of the squalor of their lakeside homes to trek across the land of Lordaeron once more. From the tattles of Aldusa, conveyed in earnest or in deceit, they knew to seek a vigilant tower of stone perched in the mountains overlooking the vast northern shore, but in this old ruin there was no insightful courtier or shade of such, but an adversary wielding the waterdeep witchcraft and commanding those who were neither wholly birds nor men. Such was the devilry of the dark lake that this enemy fought beyond fear of any fight, and neither by the sword nor the arrow would he fall to the vagrant rangers. In the hands of the company fell a map and a key, and by necessity they fled into the mountains, beyond the Venomweb. There they lit a crackling fire, and watched the gloomy skies for dark birds.
DERNGLEN - 36-02-02
Deliberations were made in the mountains, of missives and letters shared with the grey rangerhood in days prior to their departure from Fenris Keep, for men in the recent days, were employed and bidden to search the known lands for signs of the creature Morsteth, whose invisible hand was surmised to be guiding the evil rumours come out of Marshtide Watch. Surreal was the writ of Maggie the Red, that parted into the hands of the Ranger Captain from Marshall Ortellus Falheim in Stromgarde, entailing that of a worm from myth sighted in the skies, a crown broken in pieces, and a god-tale from the black stars.
. . . âXaâsugoth is the brood of black stars and the black stars are the crib of the first devourers and the first devourers are the age-old stillborn children of the lords of cosmosâ end. Beware of the star broodâs cursed promises, beware of the false crown. Beware, my people. Beware of the star broodâs cursed children, for there are two of the sky serpents.â
With his penchant for poetry and theatrics, his lair in the plaguewealdsâ mountains, his worship of black gods and rituals thereat, and the serpents entwined that crest his men, we believe this all to be the reason for Blightreekâs quiet over the last few months.
-From the letters of Maggie the Red to Ortellus Falheim
On that dim day passing the threshold of worrisome night, the hunters sought the lair called Dernglen that lay beyond reality. They passed through the hollows of the mountains, and made ascent of ever steeper grounds, in those thought-of footsteps of Elyza Lee long ago. But when they passed into a dark glade the signs portended beings far from human, and by black arts the land twisted and changed, evolving in labyrinthal ways with every mortal step taken. Fear ruled the path, and for fear of losing themselves in the gardens of the black gods, the rangers turned back, thwarted by such soulless visions as guarded Blightreekâs domain. They did not make it to Dernglen.
The Lordamere Rangers have reached the city of Stromgarde, after their trekking, where we settle in for this new and dashing campaign hosted by Cotter. Buckle up, men, for the Black Horizon.
https://eu.forums.blizzard.com/en/wow/t/rp-pvp-stromgarde-offensive-the-black-horizon/241352
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Halder & Cahir & Conleth were better
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36-02-07 - 36-02-11
In the aftermath of wide conflict in the revived Arathi land, formidable curios were taken from the hands of Stromgardeâs enemy, brought under the protection of the Tower of Arathor, and an arrangement was made to act on the retrieval of such items as were the Bloodstone of Sanguine Domination and the infamous âBlack Bookâ. During the five days of the affray, when the remnants of Sylvanasâ Undead Kingdom festered in the countryside and slaughtered innocents in the name of blasphemous black gods, they had done so with mammoth-sized vermin bred to do evil. They had ridden spiders from the fairy tales, and were already infamous for the great bats whose wings blotted out the light of the skies. The land itself resisted them, but the will of Xaâsugoth was not to be taken lightly.
Peace returned to the fledgling city-state after the dark day of 36-02-11, after which the Undead made themselves scarcer in the territories, and the great worms of the sky flew away, though none knew where to. In such times, the dead were remembered in mourning, the farms that were burned and defiled were rebuilt, and uneasy alliances were brokered amongst those warriors who had defended Stromgarde at her hour of need. As for our rangers, foreigners to this ancient place built in Thoradinâs design, they looked west, from the crenellations of the city, to disparate Lordaeron, and its dark forests.
Currently resting up from the horrors of the Black Horizon, our ranger friends will soon return to the wilderness, again, where they travel on secret pathways through the land, protecting travellers from the Undead in the woods. Look out for these mean watchers as you brave the distant fringes of the Eastern Kingdoms.
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Just received word itâs Emericâs time of the month again, be sure to buy him chocolates.
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THE WHISPERING FOREST - 36-02-25
âDebt! The foul Craiths owe! Taken from the Green. Men! Men sworn. Men promised. Men take from Men. - Tithe! Tithe to the woods. Craith, foul Craith! In fallow land, Craith. Tithe taken. Tithe given.â
- Athelon
On a day at the end of winter, Year 628 K.C. they left the forests and the foothills of the lower lands behind them, and ascended the alpine heights that brooded over Western Lordaeron. A cryptidsâ wood, it was that lay hidden in the mountains. They found the sacred soil that nourished the whispering trees, on a pilgrimage not seen since the day 35-01-11 a year prior when the bogeys that live in secret, and sing amidst the trees broke the sword Miresong upon a stone and ejected accursed Berthgyth and Eorforhild from the forests.
Inside a perfect fungal circle in whose lights was seen the moon, and little made sense, Athelon, treant-kin to Aranthu importuned the search for foul Craith - be it bloodline or lesser land-patch subject to ill deeds and ancient wrongs, to pay a tithe; an Heir of Green. Here, our woodsmen bore witness to the fickle wonders of that which was fey-drunk and flew with the wings of a dream. Critters listened close and the music of the forest sounded both fair and terrifying to those not yet wholly estranged by this Whispering Forest.
But great beauty invokes great danger, and when the song ended began the terror of the long quiet. The treant slept and the moon-mushrooms dimmed. Three rangers did not endure the fright, and fled hereat vanishing into the darkness of the weald.
âTaken! Hehe- âO foolsie, fledsie! Wheresie spring, manfool? âO, dirt and soil!â
- Beck-o-the-Wills
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Quality roleplay for 10/10 roleplayers. 
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THE WHISPERING FOREST - 36-02-26
Three, it were, lost in the woods and made the subjects of unwanted dreams. Three hunters, who had stayed, then painted their faces with a paste of the moon-mushrooms and blood; a superstition against that which lurked in the shadows. They waited until the next day, and set out on long travels through thickets that gave no sense of direction. The skies were hidden and still water, like that of a marsh woven in the dream, began to settle under the feet of the three hunters. In thoroughfares of muck and water, great reptiles slithered, and around certain flowers and forbidden fruit there was a sweet poison in the air.
The long hours passed, and the dwimmer worked mischief. They found the sword Miresong without a wielder, taken up by Hierden the Greenfriend hereat, and inside the nighthaunt where time was like a flat circle, the companions were deceived to fight each other using the bones of the ancient men. This woke up a benevolent frog from a very long slumber, and to the ranger Shavka, it gave the princely gift of a magic blossom, one too pure for the treacherous world of Men. The company was reunited with shook minds and benumbed spirits, and was guided on its way out by a swarm of warty toads. For two days, they had seen the wonder and endured the doom in that eerie place, but time was an invention of reason, foreign to the fey world, and so their sentry who had stayed behind to guard their camp outside the forest beclouded:
âYes? Itâs been⌠an hour? Maybe. Canât be more. Iâve barely had time to finish this rabbit.â
-Lawrence
Thus, the day 36-02-26 was spent in rest, recovering from the ordeals of an hour that bore the weight of two days, the dangerous giddiness of their strange adventure long remembered.
One adventure put behind us, and more await when the rangers carry out their homeland vigil with eyes of loathing for their enemies.
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One of the best ranger guilds Iâve had the pleasure of RPing with on AD, super good fun and I would recommend them!
P.S their GM has lice.
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I could have missed it, but what is/was relation between the Lordamere Rangers and the Scarlet guild (if they are still around.)
Always been a fan of Alliance Humans and Scarlet Humans, interacting.
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We have had stories with the Scarlet Crusade since our early beginnings in 2019. The relations have always been very warlike and vicious, albeit this was not something we decided upon initially when drafting the concept of the guild, but rather a natural development. In terms of groups and guilds, iâd say that around four of them have left us the more long-lasting memories.
The Hilt of Dathrohan:
https://www.argentarchives.org/node/251496
The Seal of Dathrohan:
https://www.argentarchives.org/node/251497
The Blood of Martyrs & The Chapter of Woe:
https://www.argentarchives.org/node/251498
Rather staunch enemies, here!
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They pelted us with arrows. Each evening we had to sleep with the potential fear of a bolt rain falling upon the campâŚ
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Yet another lovely read! Since the first day that I met them on Fenris Island, quality has always been top notch! Friendly players and amazing stories, do meet them 
you wonât be let down!
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THE WHEEELLL OOOOOOF TIIIIMMMME
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Like all relationships itâs give and take, they give us a few arrows and we take a few fingers.
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https://i.imgur.com/fz6NIdm.png
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Toss a coin to your ranger âŚ
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Lordamere Rangers remains a small but close knit community playing into the trope of rangers. On the surface theyâre men of Lordaeron stubbornly refusing to give up hope on a lost realm. Wandering the cursed woodland waging war upon all manner of evils that linger there.
Beneath this is a undercurrent of men swearing themselves to ancient powers long hidden from man, forsaken once they found the Holy Light. Seeking to understand and make amends for the crimes of their ancestors to be given the favour needed to survive in the fallen realm.
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IN THE SCARLET MONASTERY 36-03-08
âWe leave with haste. Prepare torches for the neighbouring farm, they failed to pay us thrice already. Righteous fire to deal with the lowly and undeserving must come.â
-Gerard Redhill, Bailiff
On the seventh day, that third month in the Year 628 K.C. Gerard Redhill, a Bailiff with appointments from the Scarlet Monastery survived an attempt on his life by rovers dressed like vagabonds in variant dark colors as he was collecting the rightful dues from the lowly peasants of the Solliden Farmstead. It was, with heavy heart reported, that two brave and incorruptible guardsmen, protecting the Bailiff, had been slain by the wicked trespassers. Worse! It was said that such black shadows had poisoned the minds of the farmers who, among them, harbored collaborators and were, themselves, responsible for the crime. An appropriate response from the higher echelons of the Scarlet Halls is soon expected; penalty and punishments from the Holy Light itself for the evil sins of its subjects. The Bailiff and his men were delayed in reporting the incident as their horses kept at Crusaderâs Outpost were found mysteriously put to death in the small hours of the night, during or shortly after the incident. Bailiff Redhill who was injured in the attempt described four cloaked and masked men. It is, as of yet undisclosed, which lowly farmers had a hand in the heinous attack but justice will come for them, assures the clergy.
THE RUNT OF CRAITH
âChild! Promised! First of Craith! Promised to Green! You, Heir oâGreen! Bring tithe. Aranthu commands.â
-Athelon 36-02-25
Oâ to fathom the scorn of Forest and Men. It was foreboding, that quest when the words of the old tree Athelon rasped with a bristle of bark and called for such dubious tithes as call mortal men to indentured servitude in the circle of the fey. The vagabond rangers trekked on a path of doom for all that they met and they came to the Solliden land on the night 36-03-07 prying with the farmfolk for the name that their forest had cursed. They asked for Craith and offered money. From an old man they learned of a farmer who had two sons and lived almost wholly isolated in what was left of the middle-woods in the Tirisfal Glades. The little Craith-land nurtured many foul rumours for its reclusiveness and it would be a journey far from any road, to find it. A lonely trek, a quiet trek? No. That was when the Bailiff arrived with his guards.
When men go seeking fallow Craith, innocents suffer for it and with many a stripe of tithe collectors come many an evil. They walk in the meadows and behind the many trees of the Tirisfal Glades, set on a path riddled with all kinds of trouble. Beware the rangerhood.
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Irongraves
She began to dig.
The eternal gloom of Tirisfal hung over her like a great misgiving, yet Shavka had long learnt to discern imminent danger from the perpetual woe of the land. Gravely, she had set to her task, casting the remnants of the Crusade into small holes in the earth. Like a stray dog she had upturned dirt and rock, not deigning to work with toolsâinstead, her grimy and bloody hands suffered that onerous labour.
They shone evilly in the light of the Pale Lady, blood-red like their insides; gleaming like the core of a flame; wrought with that flame; the flame of a lost nation. Lordaeron, she read, although it ached her to see them draped in that red mockery, that burning mockeryâŚ
Next came her daggers, her long knives and longer blade. Then greaves, sabatons, gauntlets, a dented cuirass, a casque sprung and twisted like coil. Deeper and deeper she dug, until that hole was well and truly massive, outlined by protruding roots and the jagged edges of old rock. Return to the earth, and let some measure of debt be paid.
An upset above. She flit a glance up the trail that lead to the Rangersâ camp. Doubtless she would be subject to their infuriating stares again, if they wandered by. Did they think she didnât notice their dubious mutterings, fretting like old farmers over tomorrowâs weather? Only Hierden could understand, or help her understand in turn. With efficacy she moved mounds of dirt, until the irongraves were complete and still.
She fetched her bone-weapon from the camp and asserted the blossomâs calm, ignoring the brotherhood so diligently that they might as well have been the ghosts of that disastrous exodusâŚ
And across the fields she swept, entertaining the image of a dramatic figure in her mindâs eye. Not a single misstep made she, nor a single branch did she miss; for Lordaeron was her home, and nearly a decade of roaming the walds shewed her spirit like that of a fox, or perhaps a great mountain cougar, so that she left the Glades and the rest of Plaguelands well behind her in the shortest hours.
Past the tall Aerie Peak. Past the remains of a kingdom lost, and a kingdom regainedâŚ
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