By that I'm assuming you mean they won't leave the comfort and riches of their own shard? Or they don't want to dedicate the time to truly RP? If worse comes to worst... perhaps I'll just be an undead knight. The immortal-fleshless being that fights for the light. haha
Mounts w/out bolas are a big issue to a lot of people, myself included. I overlook it because this is the best UO:R-era server available: No donation shop, decent mechanics, no powerscrolls, and a good staff/community. Bolas are also a giant can-of-wyrms if implemented poorly, or when they are inevitably abused by leetpeeveepee players. HAIL UO:REN!
Aye, the shard is fantastic. I believe if we can get a reasonable amount of people, we can create our own rules? Shouldn't be difficult to implement.
*a small man, vertically challenged or a dwarf some might say, tacks up a sign * "WARNING: TO ALL BRIGANDS, OGRES, ORCS, AND GHOULS THE SPIRIT OF FREEMEN HAS SETTLED HERE. YE WILL BE EXPELLED - Village of Paws" Kiln shook his head and mutterd as he hit in the last nail "I jus don't know why we even bother to warn 'em. The filthy buggers can't even read."
The Outsider... Ascher pulled the hood of his cloak up as he moved through the thick underbrush. The moon was bright tonight, and it cast stark shadows, but he knew that dwarves had sharp eyes for shadows. Ages of mining in the dim, dark caverns beneath the mountains had trained the dwarves that dark things hid in those shadows, and it paid to pay them heed. Ascher eased his blade as he moved. He wasn't a guest here...not yet. He was the outsider.... vagabond.... the wanderer. He had been a Lord once....a general.... He had been a Keeper in Shadow Cove.... and later, a Guardian of the Vale... he had served as Lord Commander of the Imperial Guard of White Harbor... But not now.... not anymore. Now he was a wanderer again... moving through the shadows... watching for the evil that lurks in the night. He fought because he knew nothing else. It was all he had ever done, for as long as he could remember, and longer. No matter how much he fought, no matter how many brigands, orcs, trolls, or liches he slew, they kept coming. The darkness kept rising, again and again.... And so, he fought. The words of a grizzled old desert hermit echoed down through the long forgotten ages of his youth... "As long as a single candle burns, the darkness cannot win. Light must surrender to be defeated. The darkness has no other way." The dwarf finished hammering, and shoved his thick-headed hammer into a loop at his belt. The head of the hammer gleamed in the night, and Ascher smiled. The thing was as much a weapon of war as a tool of trade. Any smith would be glad to swing it, but so would any man accustomed to a war mace. And with that dwarf's massive arms and shoulders, the hammer could do some serious damage. When the dwarf was gone, Ascher moved cautiously up to the tree to inspect the sheaf of paper the dwarf had hung there. With his hand on the hilt of his kryss, Ascher read the notice, and chuckled to himself. The main culprits the warning applied to would have a hard time following it since most of the poor devils couldn't even read. Satisfied, Ascher turned and retrieved his horse. He urged the animal forward, down a half-hidden path through the tree trunks and the moonshadows. The night was young, and there were many miles for him to travel. Somewhere in these woods a noble woman from Trinsic was suffering at the hands of a band of Orcs, and Ascher meant to find them before their cookfires got hot.
