Grott

No, this is fair. I get what you're saying. I'd like to clarify though, I don't mean to poop on lalafell warrior types. If that's the way you want to play your character, go for it. I do, however, think that the disadvantage from lack of reach should be accounted for. An experienced lalafell warrior would know about it, and be able to deal with it, but it is still there. Reach is not a physical limitation that was negated by "oh, well it's fantasy" even if strength and skill are. I think it should still be addressed. That isn't to say that, if my character is 6'6 and yours is 3'2, I will win 100% of the time, but the advantage is clear, and the smaller character should have to work around it. The smaller character may know exactly what they're doing and they may win decisively, but that shouldn't be the case ten times out of ten. Like you said, it should come down to experience. No, my biggest issue wasn't with small characters completely handwaving how strength works in the real world, though I did make it seem that way with my examples, it was really more aimed toward people who, in an emoted combat scenario, will always disregard whoever they're RPing with in an attempt to be Billy Badass and win every fight with cool kid dagger tricks. No RPer should assume that their character is the strongest or the most skilled or the most experienced in present company. I RP a Highlander who has been wielding a variety of melee weapons for over two decades. He's strong, he's big, he's experienced, he's intelligent, and he's even surprisingly agile based on the short stories I've written on him (in the style of Robert E. Howard's "Conan the Cimmerian" or Edgar Rice Burroughs's "Tarzan of the Apes"), but even with all of those advantages I have given him for the sake of good adventure stories, I never just plainly assume no one around can beat Tancred in a fight, and I get angry when others do that with their characters. It's not because I think I'm the best RPer in the world or something and need to ironically show off my humility, I just think that everyone loves their character as much as I do and we share a world where we're all our own protagonists. No one character should be able to beat all others in a fight. There's always a bigger fish. I know that sounds hypocritical with my rant about how smaller characters are weaker than bigger ones, but that is just me speaking in generalities. If I walk into a group of strange RPers, and I want to know who Tancred would single out as the biggest threat, I look for the biggest guy or girl in the room. Could a lalafell or a miqo'te possibly beat Tancred in a fight? Certainly. But with smaller races, I think a bit more explanation is required to convey how they could from a logical standpoint. I hope that's making sense. It is 5:30 in the morning here...

1st point: Discounting the fact that physics entirely disagrees with this logic because it's a fantasy world and, y'know, whatever, I'll bite the bullet for the sake of the game's lore, a person who is 3'2 will lose to a person of equal skill that is 6'6. They just will. It's a simple question of arm's reach. Big guy can hit little guy before little guy can hit big guy. If Big Guy's quick enough (not super quick, just fast enough to swing a thing at something running toward him), he essentially gets a free attack. Lalafells don't have super speed to make up for it. I have an Elezen, a Hyur, and a Lalafell and they all run the same speed. Am I going to tell a lalafell RPer that his warrior is not strong and is weaker than other races? Certainly not. But there is a handicap there, even if it isn't strength based. There is. Sorry, lalafell players. Surprise, your arms are shorter than everyone else's, and your weapons are smaller. But I don't want to get into this, because I'm here to vent with everyone else, not fight everyone about lalafells' war aptitude. Wasn't the point I was trying to make. I'd be equally mad if any race god-moded their fighting skills to emote-kill any passing stranger because they're really into themselves. My whole point was that it's incorrect to assume your character is the strongest person in the room every time they enter a room. 2nd point: I'm an adventure-RPer. I can't do tavern RP for a long time, and if I am doing it, I'd like it to be in a place far outside the 3 big cities. I know your struggle. I only know like two or three people who truly venture outward to RP.

This is going to be a bit of a vent: Why is everyone in this game, regardless of their background or training, the best fighter in the world who can't be beaten by anyone? I RP a pretty tough dude. He's certainly not the toughest in the world, and I don't go around claiming he is, so it bothers me when I see people RPing sixteen year old girls who can take on armies by themselves because they carry some doofy daggers and believe in themselves hard enough. It throws off my sense of scale for who is strong and who is not in this world. Look, I get that it's fantasy, and a lot of people like to bend reality's laws for the sake of some cool headcanon, and maybe I'm the problem here. When I made my character, I thought "I want my character to be pretty strong looking" so I bulked him up with muscle and size (Highlander, 100/100 muscle tone, 90/100 height). And there are now like... lalafell throwing tables through walls and whatever. I don't pick fights with other characters, because it's a strange thing to RP. But it seems to me that there's very little humility among a lot of RPers, when I watch emoted encounters. Everyone wants to be Cloud Strife or whoever-the-hell the cool anime dude is now (idk, it's never been my thing) and no one wants to accept that there are people stronger or more skilled than they are. Again, not saying that stronger or more skilled person is necessarily my character, but RPing a "pretty good fighter" who knows his limits really puts you at the bottom rung of the ladder when everyone else is RPing Jesus of Nazareth. Even when people bring up their shortcomings IC, it's never a physical thing. It's always some "I care too much/ I love too deeply/ I am haunted by nightmares" scenario. This might be a bit too realistic of an outlook in a fantasy world, and I might be totally in the wrong. I just tend to look at other races from a physical standpoint of "He's bigger/smaller than I am, he's probably stronger/weaker than I am, generally speaking." Of course there may be a magic-wielding lalafell who could put me on my ass, or a miqo'te woman with daggers who is a lot quicker and stealthier and gets to me before I can do anything, but these cases should be rare, whereas "Big guy with an axe who is strong from being a big guy with an axe" is pretty common. I shouldn't have to explain to a 5'6 midlander why, no, his one-armed push did not knock down my 250 pound man. Amazing, Shaolin Monk style strength in shorter individuals should be the exception, not the rule, in my opinion. I'm not really looking for a solution to this problem. More of just an ear to hear me complain about it, and this felt like the place to do it. But yeah, I guess my message is: Think about your character's skill level. If they're the best at everything, they're probably pissing people off. ... Also, can we move some RP out of the Quicksand and the housing districts? I'm in a small FC, so I'm frequently looking for walk-ups and I know there is RP outside of these places, but it's always much smaller, harder to find, and more exclusive. There used to be a "Where are you RPing right now?" thread or something of that sort on this forum a few years ago, and I wish it hadn't gone away. Sorry for the rant. Just something that bugs me.

Tancred thinks the glass needs to get out of his way.

Through the Temple Primeval, Part II “Push his body from the cliffs.” Tancred recommended, in reference to the remains of Kyre Stone. Fergus, who had always despised Tancred, was the first to question him. “Why?” he demanded, “I will not dispose of a brother-in-arms like he is garbage, to be cast aside out of inconvenience. He deserves a proper burial.” Tancred said nothing, but stared into Fergus’s eyes with a steel gaze. The tension mounted, and the remaining travelers were caught in awkward silence. Berdic was the first to speak. “He is right. There is evil at work in this accursed place, and it is better to let Kyre rest among the hills and forests of his homeland.” The five Ala Mhigans lifted the corpse of their fallen comrade, and dropped it from the mouth of the cave. They stood, uniformly staring into the ocean of clouds which the falling body had passed through. The company had set out from their make-shift village with seventeen brave warriors. In the past three weeks, twelve of them had died from a myriad of causes created by the hazards of the wild. Kyre’s death had been different. Berdic promised his followers, should they scale the cliff, no more would die. The Dire Hammer would be his, and he would lead his people home. Now, a plummeting, headless corpse was all that remained of Kyre Stone, who had been mere feet from safety when a beast of the netherworld stole his life. Aldred turned to look at Berdic. “Into what nightmare have you brought us?” He asked calmly, but the fear in his voice was noticed by all. They knew of the mounting panic in Aldred’s heart, as it was in their hearts as well. Each and every warrior in Berdic’s band had the hairs on their necks standing straight. Ice cold chills were running up their spines. They had fought countless beasts and countless Garlean soldiers in the seven years since their departure from Ala Mhigo, but none had encountered such terrible creatures as the one they had just slain. What was it? Were there more? Where did this cave lead? Berdic looked around at the group. “This cave leads to the Dire Hammer, as I have said before.” He remarked confidently, finally answering Aldred’s question, “It is a story passed through my family for generations. The temple at the end of this tunnel is abandoned, but I do not know what dangers lurk along the way. Make it through this cave with me, and I promise you, we shall all share in the victories this weapon will bring us.” He said, attempting to rally his disillusioned followers. Aldred and Fergus began to argue that they should turn back. Tancred, Rold, and Berdic argued that they had gone too far to return home empty-handed, and must press on. After nearly eleven minutes of debate, the wayward soldiers decided it would be best to continue their quest. They drew their weapons and made their way further into the darkness. The cave path narrowed in many places, and only two men could stand abreast at its tightest walkways. Rold and Berdic stood in front, lances at the ready. Behind them walked Tancred, with his father’s spatha in hand. Fergus marched backward, facing the entrance to the tunnel, with his large iron shield protecting the rear. Aldred stood between Fergus and Tancred, darting his readied bow to point at any sound he heard. An ice cold draft chilled their legs as they moved, slowly but surely, through the stygian passage. The dark hole in the earth, through which they traveled blindly, seemed to sigh out gentle moans of freezing fog. The five men were uneasy, and each trembled at the thought of some dark, unknown force of the underworld rending the flesh from their bodies. Tancred would occasionally put a hand on the cave wall to gauge how narrow the walkway was, and after a while, the group collectively knew they had entered a great opening within the cavern. The air was less stiff, and they each could stretch their arms out fully. They whispered quietly to each other, confused on which way their exit was. At last, Aldred decided to place an arrow from his quiver on the ground where they had entered the dark chamber. This way, they could hug the surrounding wall and look for openings without accidentally going back the way they came. Again, Tancred heard the terrible sound of wings fluttering, as they began to cross the room. “Weapons up!” Berdic shouted at the Ala Mhigans. Not one, but two, winged monstrosities catapulted toward the company from either side. At the front, Berdic and Rold fended the first beast off with their lances, neither losing their bearing as they prodded defensively at their attacker. Behind them, another great flying eye was attempting to rip Fergus’s shield from his arm. He roared at the fiend and attempted to slash at it with his short sword. Aldred and Tancred were caught in the middle of the action. Aldred could not see to shoot his bow in the blackness of the cave. Thinking quickly, Tancred pushed Aldred aside and leapt in the air. He landed on the head of the demon that had been assailing Fergus. He slashed vigorously at the skull, and the monster shook violently. With a great quake of its massive body, the leathery creature flung Tancred from its head. Tancred’s body struck the rock wall and he fell to the ground with the loud clap of skin against stone. Dazed, Tancred lifted himself to one knee as he gripped his sword. His enemy was already in pursuit. With sanguine claws, the beast clutched Tancred’s torso, as another had done to Kyre earlier that day. Tancred stabbed with all of his might, his sword pointed at eye-level. He pierced the pupil of the monster and it bellowed in wrath. As its grip tightened, Tancred similarly cried out, but he kept his sword in hand and stabbed again at the wounded cyclops. This time the thing’s grip loosened. Tancred fell a foot or two to the ground below him. Next to him, his mystery predator collapsed in wild death throes, and eventually ceased its shrieking. Tancred lay still for sometime. The subterranean chamber was so dark that he could not tell if his eyes were opened or closed. He heard his companions whispering loudly for him, after slaying the remaining demon with coordinating lance thrusts. At last, Tancred felt a warm palm on his chest. He lifted his arm to feel for whom the hand belonged to, and sighed in relief when he landed on the bald head of Rold. The group sat him up against the wall at which he had recently been hurled. Although he could barely see their faces, he knew they were inspecting him, wondering if he would slow them down or get them killed. They were all grateful for his act of heroism against their foe, but they could not see his wounds, and could not tell if he was going to need to be carried, or if he was simply going to die in a few paces. “No.” Tancred said, in answer to no one’s question. He repeated the word again, and he used the wall to stand himself up. “I am not going to die here.” He affirmed, as he lifted his spatha. The warriors resumed their fighting positions and continued to trek through the darkness. Every few minutes, one would ask Tancred how he felt, or if he was okay to carry on. Each time he responded, Tancred sounded stronger. The general disdain for Tancred they each entered the tunnel with had turned into a grudging respect over the hours they spent within the cliff wall. At last, after an inconceivable amount of time in darkness, the weary travelers found a steep ramp, lit by the sky. They scrambled out of those caverns of nightmare, and into a world illuminated by the late hours of twilight. The sun had gone down, and the sky above them was a dull blue which would soon fade to night. Before them was a smooth path of stone, its pieces locked together so tightly that there were no cracks. The stone walkway was encased by slanted ivory, creating the shape of a large gutter which poured into the caves. Surrounding the pathway was a large, desolate field of dead grass, enclosed on all sides by a large, primitively built stone wall. Straight ahead of them, the walls and path met at a great, moss-covered temple that looked as if it had been abandoned centuries before Ala Mhigo had been built. The field itself was speckled with torches, which seemingly grew brighter as day faded behind the refugees. “The torches,” Fergus said, his voice quivering, “Why are they lit?”

This is a thing people do? I thought everyone knew this was a no-no. This dude can't be older than fourteen. If he is, he's just a troll, or ...really stupid. Yeah, you're in the right to tell him to shut up and go home. "REALISTICALLY I COULD ATTACK PEOPLE" sure, but 1. you'd get killed, and 2. why would you do that? ICly and OOCly, why would you do that? ICly, it's an event (I've read) was full of people with weapons and the ability to use them. If you wanted to attack a bunch of unsuspecting people, you should go to... actually don't go anywhere. Almost everyone in this game is carrying weapons. OOCly, this is just rude, egotistical, and overall bad form. I wouldn't even waste the time being mad about this, dude. That guy was dumb. I'd forget it ever happened. EDIT: ...It is a pretty funny story, though.

Welcome to Balmung, and to the RPC. MMO RP is pretty basic stuff, and with your experience I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time. Enjoy your time in the community!

So this is a bit strange, and too much to ask of a stranger on a forum. You might want to try making connections with people in real life and asking them to RP with you. Or... not doing this. RP around and meet new folks, but don't expect exclusivity out of them, or for them to think your showerings of affection and attention are warranted outside of the game. No one wants to be told "good morning" or "good night" by the same dude they barely know every single time they log on/off. I get that you're trying to make a lasting ...friendship? But you're coming off really unnecessarily strong here. It looks like this is your first post in the community, and you're already asking for an exclusive RP partner who will have eyes only for you. Kinda weird. Main point of this reply is to say ...Calm it down. We all want to make friends, but, y'know... take it easy.

You're not fooling anyone, Tancred...

I thought it was a reference to Legend of Zelda (1986) when the old man gives you the wooden sword and says "It's dangerous to go alone, take this!"... Maybe I'm old and out of touch. There goes my "in" for conversation. Welcome to the RPC. Have fun. Make friends. Play pretend with us. Aim at the eye of Gohma. Or is that a song now too? I'm going back to my corner.

Welcome to the wagon. I'm not against it for anything other than the objective reason of "2015 America and the world of Hydaelyn are entirely incomparable for these purposes" I get what OP's trying to do. It's cool to try to involve everyone in a big intensive character survey, and the frustration at all the pushback is understandable. But this doesn't work. Sorry, man. Plus the idea of "privilege" is a hot-button issue in society right now, so it's probably not wise to throw it into this make believe world we all play pretend in. It's a little too real for some people. Plus, how the hell am I supposed to gauge my character's privilege? His circumstances are entirely unlike my own, or anyone's, for that matter. Gauge Tarzan's privilege and get back to me with what you find. If that works, I'll give Tancred's a shot.

Both true statements.

^ Yeah, seriously. My character is an Ala Mhigan refugee soldier of fortune. I don't think he's looking for make-up that fits his complexion. And skin color really plays no part in Eorzean social politics to begin with. (You could make an argument for Duskwights being stereotyped negatively, I guess, but other than that it doesn't come up too often in actual NPC lore. Sometimes someone will complain about someone of another race, but we see more races being cool with others than not.) But asking someone in my character's shoes, or most other character's shoes for that matter, if they were made fun of for how they dressed growing up, if they went on a family vacation, or if they got time off for religious holidays is a little goofy. Some of this should be rephrased, and some of it completely re-written for an Eorzean survey. I love a good character survey, but this one needs a lot of work. Plus it opens a whole new can of worms of people talking about/getting offended by RL perspectives on privilege. I play FFXIV and RP to avoid discussions like these.

Sounds good to me. I've been looking for something like this to attend and meet new people, so I support this idea.

While it's not explicitly stated, we know that there is a network of creeks and rivers within the Black Shroud, and there are ferries that bring people across those rivers, so it isn't a leap to think they may have an inland port for trade purposes. Thanalan has lighthouses and docks all over the place, so it isn't a stretch to think they get a fair amount of nautical traffic going in and out of Ul'dah, so I wouldn't go as far as to say we don't know of any ports in the East. Ala Mhigo may have had ports as well, seeing as how Gyr Abania is described as harsh terrain. Historically, in places of harsh terrain, large cities depend on water routes for their goods because they can't exactly get what they need from the land. This applies to Ul'dah as well. There's no way Ul'dah's entire trade network is based around caravan traffic, especially with Brass Blades frequently harassing merchants who go through Thanalan by foot/chocobo/carriage. Thanalan's arid biome, occasional docks and lighthouses, and financial success lend themselves to the idea of a nautical economy, even if the game's lore never comes out and says "Thank the gods for all these boats and all this money". Maybe they don't have maritime prowess at the level of Limsa, but it certainly would be possible for someone to emigrate to Aldenard through Ul'dah.

Gonna bump this thread. We still exist and we're lonely.

*This story takes place fifteen years before the present game setting. *Liberties have been taken with Gyr Abania and the culture of Ala Mhigan refugees. It is not my intent to lorebreak, so if future information directly contradicts the details of my story, I reserve the right to alter it to fit in with the lore. *Please do not use this information ICly without discussing it with me first. *The thread is not closed, and feedback is greatly appreciated, but to cut out some clutter, I'd appreciate feedback in the form of a PM if possible. *These seven paragraphs are simply the first part of a larger short story. The short story is simply part of a larger collection of stories about Tancred's adventures between the fall of Ala Mhigo and the present. I didn't want to put down too much writing at once, because it tends to discourage casual readers. *Feedback is encouraged. I've been working hard on this story and I'd like to know that someone actually read it or liked it or saw things that could be improved. *This story is written to entertain you, the reader, so please enjoy it! Through the Temple Primeval, Part I From a distance, the steep cliff seemed to rise out of the highlands of Gyr Abania like a wall at the edge of the world. It had sat silent for hundreds of years, undisturbed and uninviting. The cliff itself seemed to invoke thoughts of a grisly death to all who gazed upon it. At a closer look, one could see six sunburned and tired figures making their way slowly up the glowering wall, like ants up the wall of a great castle. They worked in silence, pulling themselves up with iron muscles at a snail's pace. These stoic men set out from their camp with a dozen more just like them. The six who remained were the smartest and strongest; the most fit to survive. In the past seven years since the fall of their homeland of Ala Mhigo, they had lost hundreds to the weathering of the wilderness. The frail engineers who had made their city so powerful from inside their walls had faded to illness, injury, or exhaustion and the men and women left were barbarians. Due to their heritage, they had been chiseled into a rare breed of intellectual savage. At the same time both ruthless and calculating, but full of compassion for their fellow refugee. One of these such men was Tancred, a youth who had been nearly thirteen at the time of the invasion and had fled, with many of his people, to safety after his parents fell to the gunfire of the Garlean war machine. And now, Tancred was climbing the greatest stone wall of the countless crags of his foreboding home. Tancred had answered the call when Berdic Stormhome, the camp's strongest warrior, had asked for fifteen able-bodied men to follow him in a quest to find the legendary Dire Hammer. Tancred was the sixteenth volunteer. Despite being the tallest of the group, he was the youngest, and slightest of muscle. He was brought along as fodder, but had proven himself worthy, and now was one of the six surviving members. Tancred Smithson, Berdic Stormhome, Rold Redhand, Fergus Ironshield, Kyre Stone, and Aldred the Younger comprised the climbers, and they had just found what they were searching for. "Look! Just above us!" Rold shouted, as he shot his left hand off of the rocks and pointed at a ledge, leading to a cave, in the cliff's wall. "Just as the story says." Berdic sighed in relief. The six men quickened their pace to the lip of the opening. Rold was the first man into the cave, and he immediately assisted Berdic into the hole. Next was Tancred, whose foot slipped clumsily on the way up. Berdic rolled his eyes at the youth, wondering how such a weakling had made it as far as he had. Tancred looked away, embarrassed, and quickly turned back to aid Aldred and Fergus into the mouth of the cave. The last traveler had been Kyre, who was still out of reach for even Tancred's arms to grab hold of. The five warriors had been content to sit and wait for their comrade to reach the top. Kyre was strong and intelligent and none doubted his climbing prowess. He was taking much longer than expected, but was still full of energy and able to scale the wall with cat-like grace. The tired refugees stretched out their bodies and enjoyed the cool air coming up from the deeper reaches of the cave's tunnel while waiting for their slower friend. Tancred alone felt uneasy about the alien terrain they had entered. He walked cautiously deeper into the cave. The others, by habit at this point, paid Tancred no mind. As he crept further down into the blackness, he began to hear noises. A rustling here and there. "Quiet!" Tancred barked at his companions who had been conversing loudly and congratulating themselves on their climb. "What did you say to me, boy?" Fergus shouted in reply, standing and dusting himself off. Tancred drew his late father's spatha from the scabbard he wore on his great bronzed back. He gripped the handle tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Fergus stared at Tancred, confused and angered. "I asked you a question, weakling!" Fergus shouted. Tancred did not turn around to look at Fergus. His keen eyes were attempting to peer into darkness in hopes of finding his would-be foe. Faster than any could react, a large black monstrosity rocketed from the cave, flapping terrible leather wings. It screeched and wailed, and its great disgusting eyeball scanned the cave on its flight into the scorching sun. Tancred, with the speed of a cobra, had dropped to the ground, supporting himself on his ten fingers and the balls of his feet just in time to avoid the monster's deathly grip. His four companions gasped in horror from behind him. Tancred turned to see the beast returning to its roost from outside of the cave. Aldred took his bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. He fired upon his assailant, but it dove to avoid the missile. In one swift motion, it snatched Kyre from the cliff wall with its mighty grip. The cyclops's claws dug deep into Kyre's torso, and he screamed in agony. Aldred's hand trembled as he withdrew a second arrow with which to slay his enemy. He struck the right wing of the beast, and in what seemed to be almost gleeful retribution, the beast tore the head off of Kyre with razor teeth. It hurled the body of its victim into the cave. The corpse landed atop Rold, who fell to his back at such a blow. This time, Aldred fired with conviction, and pierced the eye of the monster. It moaned and cried as thick, black blood gushed from its face like oil. As it struggled to stay in the air on its one functioning wing, spinning around in pain, Fergus scrambled to take the axe off of Kyre's back. He hurled the mighty hatchet with all of his strength, and it cleaved into their enemy's skull. Its lifeless body fell into the clouds below and the danger halted as quickly as it had begun. Rold pushed the corpse of his ally off of his body and sat upright against the wall of the cave. "What in the Hells was that thing, Stormhome?" He demanded. Tancred picked up the sword, which he had dropped in the chaos, and put it into its scabbard. He dusted his hands off and joined the rest of the group. "I am sorry. No mortal foot has entered these caves in hundreds of years. I did not expect trouble of this kind." Berdic answered, staring at the limp body and dripping neck of his fallen follower. Berdic alone knew where he had led his warriors. Over the course of weeks, the group had suffered hardships at the malevolent hands of wind, rain, sun, animals, and bandits. They had lost twelve brave souls along the way, and their danger had just begun.

I forgot for a minute that Highlanders and Midlanders are the same race. They're so different in form whereas most clans differentiate in small features (plainsfolk have pupils, dunesfolk do not, etc.) and color palette. I actually looked for the Highlander option for a good five seconds before saying "Oh, right. I'm dumb."

Balmung and Gilgamesh are the two largest RP servers. They're usually full and closed for character creation during the busy hours of the game. If you want to play there, I'd suggest waiting until the middle of the night or very early morning and making a character then.

Fear? FEAR? The Direhammer knows no fear! There is only the fear of dying ingloriously. Rhalgr laughs at your four winds.

Every day is another step closer to becoming a warlord.

I'd steer clear of it. For every person that's into it, you'd get 30 people who think you're special snowflaking or god-moding or whatever the kids are calling it these days. If we're being honest, I find the races in this game kind of boring at times, but we as players are bound by what the developers let us do. Unfortunately you're stuck in your skin, as it were. There are always ways around that kind of stuff, if you use your imagination. Like a lalafell raised by sylphs or something, and you could try your damndest to make that character look like a sylph. I don't know. Your character. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. Probably not the answer you want to hear, but it's all I've got for you. Take it sleazy.

Haha yeah... Good times. Anyways, when it comes to OP's complaint and probably everything else said here (I didn't read all of it because what are you nuts? I have shit to do. Like play Mario and die a little inside for not having friends.): This is kind of a standard hazard for any social group. People will start "drama" and gossip and exclude others for silly reasons, like disliking a character's hat or something. Everyone is going to talk behind everyone's back. Seriously, if your name isn't Shuck, Orlog, or Zarek (that's right, buddy. You're on my good list. Welcome to the sleazy life), chances are I've linked something dumb you've said to someone else and said "look at this guy." Unless you've only said things I like, in which case I haven't. I'm rambling for the sake of poor humor. In any case, I see the frustration in OP's OP. I get it. I'm right there with you. Unfortunately, it's the nature of the beast. Everyone here will tell you "THOSE PEOPLE THAT DO THAT ARE THE WORST" and to "Surround yourself with positive people who value you for you" and apparently no one here would ever stoop that low. But we do. We pick stupid reasons not to like people, and we find people with the same feelings and complain together. My advice to you would be to keep on keepin' on. As Shuck said, a few years ago the people who knew about Misericorde (we're really not that popular, but we like to think we are) did not like us. They just can't handle playas who keep it real nawmsayin. And there are probably a few people who still don't like us. But you just have to ignore it and be more cautious in making friends. No need to cry over spilled milk. I'm barely awake right now, and I no longer remember the topic of this conversation. Something about drama and gossip and people getting mad OOC for IC shit. Those people that do that are the worst. Surround yourself with positive people who value you for you. No one in this community would ever stoop that low. Always remember: I'm outie 5000. Smell ya later.

Uther's a combatant Ishgardian. Because we live in a world where anyone can drop into being a knight without any fuss. So that's what I did.