Any staffs, polearms? Tentacles?
Then who takes the role of Aristoteles?
It was yes, though I also remember it wasn’t without it’s flaws, namely some people who participated sitting on their piece of the gem, hoarding it without even allowing someone else a chance to try and take it from them, or when they did, always escaping with their piece. But overall it was quite fun. I just hope for those involved that this won’t be plagued by the same problems.
A dwarf with hatred in his gaze and madness in his ways roamed the hills of Redridge.
Lizzie Firescope obtained the Hemorrhagic Fury directly from a corrupted Dwarf after he was defeated in combat.
A cryptic note marked as Excerpt of the Accursed Almanac is given to Robertson by the Baron himself. His orders are to hand it over to Theo Koiffen.
Did participate. Can confirm.
That being said, it’s something you kind of have to expect when throwing a plot device into the open world of RP and sound the call for everyone to get involved. Most will adhere to the unwritten rules of engagement - some will not.
Ashgrove handled TID fairly well in that regard imo, especially considering how long that dang plot lasted.
A man can be seen dead on the road from Redridge to Burning Steppes, with a ripped pouch from his waist. It smells of… A Herb?
Or the other way around. I remember the people that somehow knew i had a piece of the “asteroid?” (think it was the first time round i got involved in). The Gnome who god emote attacked me, the guild who cornered me. Both on the day i got it before i even had a chance to do anything.
But i got lots of fun RP from having the bit of the asteroid. If i remember right i got talked in to handing it over to a friends guild who then went on to hunt the rest. No idea how it went for them.
After an incident in the Orgrimmar barracks, Sokronal Bonespite obtains the Sanguine Domination from the dried husk of the Forsaken who previously held it.
Priests belonging to the Church of the Holy Light issue a warning, they reach out to the streets of Stormwind and the townships North- and Lakeshire. Parchments containing the following text are distributed among the people:
Good men and women of the kingdom,
let these words of warning save your souls from the evil that is upon us, that seeks to slither into our community and darken the hearts of man.
The watchful eyes of the church have seen it, our ears heard it: The dead and the mad wander around, lusting for blasphemous craftsmanship in the form of a circlet – a crown, the gutters mumble. But it is only a crown of thorns, a sinner’s reward! Spread the word, only the king’s crown is true! And cast out those that seek to crown themselves, speak to guards and priests, follow the Light.
[The end of the text contains the sigil of Church of Light.]
A drunk tauren had barged his way through the seventh rastari cohort, muttering drunken profanity as he did. As he left the trolls behind him, something fell from his person and landed in the dusty ground of the Valley of Honor.
Tetrarch Kezuga was first to notice it and reached down. He was about to speak to the tauren but something took hold of his attention and as he looked back at the shiney, unusual trinket, he continued to only look at it quietly… longingly.
It looked like it use to be the front piece of a crown and as the dinomancer observed its details more closely, there were a few empty spaces were some jewelry should be able to fit.
He would have to find a treasurer back in the Great Seal and see what they know of this…
“And six. Six were given to the guilds of the PCU who above all else desire powe- eh. Quality rp events.”
Looking forwards to the event. Let’s see who caves in with such coveted items in their hands.
Certainly not us.
Though… imagine the fires we could start…
Ruffneck had a dark aura, for some reason everyone near it felt that he drained the souls nearby, the rotten decaying smell was too strong to ignore the fact that he was never happy. The captain held a strange gem on his belt, he probably kept it for a long time by the looks of his current state. The Trademarks were lucky enough to defeat him, taking the gem and giving him the final blow… those were his last moments sadly. Hareta is the current Trademark who wields the gem, may she not go to madness as the captain did.
This might be a dumb question (I slept like 3h last night. Work with me here). How does one discover the existence of these artifacts?
I will continue to post small ones like the church post here so people can pick up news IC and other than that you can pick up some info from the mini NPC events I run (f. ex. there were two strange occurrences in Orgrimmar yesterday)
It’s a lot of pieces to hand out, in time there will be more ways for characters to know about them
Father Cramer of the Church of the Holy Light in Stormwind partakes in the church’s efforts to warn the populace of the blasphemous crown and those who seek it with unusual dedication.
During daylight hours, he takes part in the distribution of the parchments containing the warning of the church and insists on personally listening to the ramblings of the people who claim to know about the circlet. At night, the priest compiles the information he acquired, even from the most unlikely sources, for review by his dark allies.
The wealthy take Father Cramer’s time to lament about the mundane: They repeat the words of the parchments in their own ways, wailing about the state of the kingdom and its young king, about the less fortunate souls and their supposedly self-inflicted misfortune and about the threat from the north – at least what they heard of it by second or third account. It is only the late hour – the last moments of daylight – which allows the surges of the kingdom’s dregs to wash into the church’s hall: Low born, deviants of the populace and vagrants from the less favourable, rural parts of the kingdom. The bulk of them rambles in drunk or mad tongue, stuttering about their troubles and vexations, but the most degenerate of all visitors, an old fortuneteller covered in naught but rags and obviously mentally disturbed, tells an abnormal tale in a strange moment of lucidity.
Old wounds of the earth itself fester anew, never truly sealed or healed. From them, like blood, pour gemstones. And, those long deceased rise anew to revel in Azeroth’s bloodletting and wander the lands – those of the kingdom, too – in search for he, who crowns himself. The tale comes to an end abruptly, then the fortuneteller mumbles about a dwarf in the tavern of Lakeshire. “What an unfortune soul, he-he-he,” coughs the old man and leaves the church.
The fortuneteller goes on to plague Stormwind’s gutters, perhaps spreading his evil tale to rogues and other no-good folk…?
A hefty tauren warrior, later found burned alive on the dusty streets of Orgrimmar, frequented the Wyvern’s Tail until his fiery demise. The black-furred and horned fighter never cared to put down his drink, enjoying one after the other, but on his mind was something else: The tauren mumbled with glee, talked to himself about “his crown” and kept reaching into his pockets with his free hand to look at a small piece of metal.
One fateful evening he left the tavern to stumble into the proud warriors of the Painted Shields…