WELCOME TO NEW MALAYURG CASTLE MURDERMANSIONvisitors can't see pics , please
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login Across the land every font of civilization fell quiet, just as the candleflame grows still before it is snuffed. From the tiniest hamlet to the most bustling burg, people shuffled into line. One by one they drew lots from a cedar box, worn and stained by the hands of the many. Those who drew blank cards sighed in relief. Those who pulled a black card from the box grew quieter still. Man withdrew from his blooming fields. Woman left the butter to turn and the child to wither away. Noble left the realm with no legacy, no heir.
All who had drawn the black card had won the MURDERLOTTERY. They slowly converged upon the MURDERMANSION, no matter how far it was from the life they once had. Crawling. Only the strong could survive this rite of initiation. Crows picked at the unworthy dead, strewn into gutters and ditches. A more harrowing fate yet lay ahead for the chosen who refused to die yet.
Long before one laid eyes on the MURDERMANSION, one could smell the cursed ground it lay upon. A wound struck deep into the earth's flesh, 149 cubits wide and 666 cubits long. Porous gravel had eagerly drank the blood of previous MURDERLOTTERY winners. A foul gas reeking of sulfur and burnt leather seeped from the ground, condensing into solid black orbs of ichor in spots. This wound would never heal.
The weary pilgrims finally stood, all made equal. They donned ceremonial arms and armor. A blade that could be felt but not seen. Cruel goads pulled from demons' hands. Concentrated grenades of ichor. They sheared all hair from their heads, and assembled. Two lines faced one another. Not a smile or a frown to be seen among the ranks. All made equal.
It is said -
Those who die with valor,
fighting for that which they believe;
Fight eternal - in a heavenly realm.
In righteous battle is glory.
Blood for blood.
Dust to dust.
But it is not so. The exalted few who have crawled to this twisted Valhalla are the only ones who know the truth. It is not an honorable fight. There is no meaning; no valor to be had. All present are both the firing squad and the guilty. Death the only virtue, the only truth. It is not a sentence or a reward. It simply is.
The MURDERTRON presides over the smoking and festering wound upon his land. The many shall do his bidding. Death will be dealt . Souls harvested. Blood to dust.
Psuedo diplomacy shit:
I don't give a shit about diplomacy. I have this castle solely for doing EXP battles. Don't attack the castle, and we won't have any problems. If you do, I can have multiple large factions come down on you. Don't attack anyone on the Team 2 faction, they are most likely running errands so we can have bigger and better EXP battles. Anyone can trade here, anyone can fight on my door step. I won't reinforce anyone, and I won't kick anyone out. I simply do not care about any of this. If you're going to come use up all of the S&D, please donate some troops directly to the castle.
Trade Info:
Goods price: 7
Tax: 10%
Prosperity: 666
Gear:
Rouncey +3 35%
Large Warhorse +3 35%
Arrows +0
Steel Bolts +3 40%
Heavy Gotland Armor +3 20%
Heavy Plate Armor +0 40%
Light Kuyak +3 20%
Great Helmet with Coif +0 20%
Nordic Footman Helmet +0
Plate Mitten +0 30%
Leather Glove +0
Black Greave +0 10%
Rondel Dagger +0
Nordic Sword +0
Nordic War Sword +3 40%
Military Hammer +3 20%
Two Handed Axe +0
Mace +3 20%
Great Maul +3 20%
Great Sword +3 20%
Flambard +0
Voulge +1
Light Lance +3 30%
Lance +3 25%
Long Hafted Spiked Mace +3 20%
Long Hafted Knobbed Mace +0
Long Maul +3 25%
Elite Cavalry Shield +3 30%
Plain Round Shield +3 20%
Throwing Lance +3 25%
Smoke Bomb +0 10%
Bow +0
Hunting Crossbow +1 10%
Arbalest +2 30%
