IP: 23.227.199.139:17020
Mod List
ModAdmin.pak
TotAdmin.pak
TotChat.pak
ThrallWarsUtilities.pak
SlaveWarsServer.pak
StylistPlus.pak
RoleplayRedux.pak
Devious_Desires.pak
ModControlPanel.pak
No_Building_Placement_Restrictions.pak
RA.pak
BarbarianBarber.pak
Improved_Quality_of_Life.pak
RavencrestCouriers.pak
MultiChar.pak
ThrallWarDecorations.pak
NorthernTimber.pak
SandAndStone.pak
Shanis-Stuff.pak
AkubaSalon.pak
WonderBodyAC.pak
WonderBody.pak
After receiving your sentence, you were gagged and blindfolded and dragged across the continents to The Exiled Lands. In order to survive, you will need to join a faction, make allies, and destroy your enemies. This is an unforgiving landscape, and as such, this server is set to be unforgiving, forcing you to go about your exile wisely.
Your race determines your faction. Upon spawning, you will see the board which lists what race belongs to which faction. With that in mind, you are free to build in whichever biome you’d like but beware: if an enemy of that biome’s faction finds you, that’s grounds for PvP!
Path of The Exile is an RP-PvP server. There is no dice combat, and there are consequences if defeated. You are unconscious when you log off, and your foothold can be destroyed during War Time.
Server Lore:
History & The Pathmaker
A long time ago, before the rapture of Hyboria, the ancient civilization of the God-Kings ruled a dominion of lively, fertile land. At the height of their culture, they had tapped into magics that allowed them access to technologies unknown to mankind. As they flourished, they resorted to the import of slaves to afford themselves the utmost luxury.
With the arrival of the Lemurians in the East, the God-Kings took the opportunity to snatch the Witch Queen’s people for servitude. Adorning each slave with a magical bracelet, they’d never be able to leave these gods-forsaken lands without the threat of an agonizing death. Of all the slaves captured and bent to the God-Kings’ will, one rose above the rest. Suhkmah, as he was known, climbed the ranks by excelling in his masters’ tasks, earning himself near-citizenship of the ancient kingdom.
Suhkmah was an intelligent man; teaching himself the language of his masters without the need for magic, gaining intel on his captures as they assumed his ignorance. Speaking of magic, Suhkmah was mentored by an archivist in secret, learning the ways of telekinesis and alchemy. As the years passed, his mentors, finding him a great asset, taught him powerful magics to increase his longevity. When the Lemurians in the North rebelled and destroyed the aqueduct, Suhkmah empowered his brethren with incantations of strength and vigor as they marched toward the city to mow down their oppressors, while Suhkmah watched.
In his mind, he believed that he gave his people the tools they needed to succeed. Though still trapped within the bounds of the Great Barrier, his people thrived in freedom. As centuries passed, descendants of the ancient Lemurians and Exiles alike would heed Suhkmah’s advice, though his name became lost to time. All who seek Suhkmah’s counsel and empowerment know him only as The Pathmaker.
The Factions
The Valorkin, The Shaitani, The Xel-hari
Much later in time, as more exiles arrived to serve their harsh punishments, as is typical in humanity, some banded together to form clans - ilk of similar ethnicity, values, and faith. As the population grew, so did conflict. In a lawless land, the exiles slaughtered each other with little regard, raping and pillaging entire settlements as savages. While many opted for violence, there was a growing number of people who wanted a resolution. In desperation, they sought the counsel of The Pathmaker. He listened to the pleas of the people, taking a great deal of time to consider the best solution.
“Could there be civility and order in a damned place such as this?” he thought. As time was of the essence, the answer finally dawned on him. At dawn, he made his presence in front of the clans to present his resolution:
“I commend you all for seeking a way of peace in a harsh environment such as this. You’ve brought me your pleas for help, and I have come to deliver you a plan.” The Pathmaker raises his staff high above his head, creating a map of the Exiled Lands from the stars.
“The land shall be divided threefold - the borders naturally outlined by the environment; the mountains barring the North from the South, and verdant jungles defining the West from the East. You all hail from lands similar to these, so I leave it to you to determine where your people shall go. You will all agree that you will help your own, banding together to protect your borders from outsiders that wish to cause discord and destruction. You shall pick one to be your leader, one who shall consult with me at my temple. Should you fail to follow my creed, I shall turn my back to all of you forever.”
The people understood this, and so the very next day, the clans packed up their things and ventured to their respective new lands, setting up a more permanent settlement akin to the lands they called home. Of course, there were those that rebelled against the idea, but they’d be dealt with in due time. As waves of new Exiles arrived over the course of time, and as the cultures of each faction grew, their identities grew as well. In the North would become The Valorkin, The Shaitani to the South, and The Xel-hari to The East.
Origins; The Valorkin
When the Pathmaker divided the Highlands, the Taiga, and the Tundra in to a single territory, a wide array of cultures now found themselves with a responsibility to seek accord. No easy task, as one can imagine. Mitran zealots, Ymirite warriors, Pictish Savages, Aquilonian Nobles. How could such peoples ever find themselves in peace?
In truth, a brief period of violence ensued before the accord sought among the north was taken by a single man, and his will. His strength, and honourable nature. Jarl Amleth Skarsgärd, man of Vanaheim, once a father and proud warrior, commanded a group of his kin, warriors all.
His method was a combination of show of force, and honourable diplomacy. To coax different peoples in to an uneasy coalition in united purpose against the outsider threats. A set of commands, to ensure peace between Mitran and Ymirite. To ensure a loose code of honour.
Will there always be peace between clans and peoples in the north? The Jarl knows better. Thus, to avoid intra-faction conflict, the Jarl has made it known that disputes are settled in contest. Be it trial by combat or skill. An imperfect, but necessary system to keep the coalition of the Valorkin together. The North at war with itself is a North ripe for the enemy to conquer.
Yet no matter how strong or honourable the Jarl Amleth may be, enemies within can never truly be quelled. The hersirs of New Asagarth constantly challenge his power in the north, while the Cimmerians of the Burial Mounds - Driven mad by their exile and believing they are in fact, in Crom’s Realm, refuse any negotiation.
This speaks nothing of the threats that loom not only from the south, but the north. The volcano. The giants of the deep snow mountains, and the darkness within the caldera’s apex.
Origins; The Shaitani
The desert is a harsh land. None knew this better than those who were sent to call it home by the Pathfinder, during the ‘peaceful’ division after war. Needless to say, while many of the chosen races were used to carving lives from grit and sandstone, they felt cheated and swindled out of better lives - condemned to infertile dunes where scavengers waited to pick the bones of their fallen. Where there was water, there was a chance to thrive - and there was only so much water in the desert. In this new beginning, there was only so much to go around - and too many in need.
Yes, in those early days, the desert was a harsh land - and perhaps then, more than any other region, their people knew constant war. War unlike the petty squabbles of ownership and honor, like those in the North. War unlike the redundant differences in views, like to the East. Their war was savage. Primal. War to eat. War to drink. The very basics of life, fought over and scavenged to the very last scrap. Their war was ugly, cruel, and unfair.
During this time, the sands feasted upon spilled blood. Blood that spilled daily, seeping deep through the grains. Feeding what slept below, and stirring it from its slumber. Soon, the war for basic survival wasn’t the only fight the desert people had. Slaughters came unprovoked and without culprit. At first, fingers were pointed - and only led to further bloodshed. But in time, the truth was made clear - from the caverns and canyons too dangerous to traverse, unseen enemies had declared them as prey. They were being hunted - and every drop of blood spilled was feeding them, making them stronger.
Now the desert people had a cause to rally towards. Now, with so many slaughtered, there was enough to go around. There was less and less need to kill one another for basic necessities, and further need to unite and drive back the unseen threat. Under this united cause, the desert people slaughtered horrific abominations and abyssal aberrations that could only colloquially be identified as ‘Demons’ - creatures beyond their understanding, and therefore assuredly sent from the burning Hells. In time, and through great sacrifice, the ‘Demons’ were driven back, and those remaining took from them their name to inherit their power, and establish dominance over their fallen foes. What force could be more powerful than a Demon? The Devils that command them - the Shaitani.
While their numbers had fallen drastically since the early days of the Pathmaker’s division of lands, their unity was unquestionable, and their prowess in combat and war tempered and proven. Hell itself had tested them, and they had proven indomitable.
It was this well-earned confidence and their lack of numbers that gave rise to the now staple-practice of slavery among the Shaitani today. It wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity. To build a better future where they could thrive, and their children would play? Lesser flesh would break to build it for them. The Shaitani’s second blessing came in the form of a richness of ores and gems they would harvest from the deep chasms cleansed of ‘Demon’ taint. Having beaten Hell, they were now showered in riches as reward from the Gods.
The Shaitani Empire that would rise from these spoils of war would be vast, and glorious. Lavish and extravagant. Built upon well-earned entitlement that, through the ages, would be forgotten and diluted by rumor and tales of grandeur further and further from historical fact. While the royal line of the Sultanate may have originated in the blood of true heroes of the Culling of Demons - this has long been forgotten.
Pride, arrogance, and entitlement have now taken place without proper remembrance as to how it came to be. To their credit, the brutal authority that the Sultanate reign with can almost be seen as hereditary by this point - but for those who recognize the Signs for what they are? For those who hear the Call, knowing the ‘Demons’ from below stir once again? The Sultanate have grown fat and lazy off of Shaitan’s riches. They have forgotten what it truly meant to wage proper War.
The time comes for the Shaitani to remember how they earned their name.
Origins: The Xel-hari
While peoples settled to the North or South after the Pathmaker’s divide, those dwelling to the East of the river had little to compromise. The Lemurians once freed from servitude, prospered in Xel-Ha under the rule of The Witch Queen. Of common ancestry, The Pathmaker showed a some bias toward the Lemurians, and those who would soon settle in the humid, verdant land. In time, The Pathmaker would devote time to teach them sorcery and philosophy. In time,
The Pathmaker would dub them The Xel-hari, in tribute to his people’s once great civilization. It was The Pathmaker’s aspiration to see The Xel-hari thrive above The Valorkin and Shaitani, but some turn of events would prove otherwise.
As more exiles filed into the jungle to join the Xel-hari, trouble would soon begin to simmer. The maritime Zingarans, flocking to the sea found opportunity to settle along Bucaneer’s Bay to resume their lives as merchants, some turning to piracy. The Zamorians would spit on honor and steal from their own people in the dead of night. Eventually, the Xel-hari’s reputation of being scholarly folk on the path to enlightenment would be tarnished; slavery rings and port towns would sprout along the coastline, defiling the sacred edifaces that once belonged to the Lemurians.
Of course, this upset The Pathmaker to see his work unfurl before him. Every attempt to reason with the thieves and pirates would be fruitless; often causing acts of rebellion after the fact.
As crime soared higher and higher, there was one who would rise above everyone else to do something about it. Ruhkar Sandeep would rally up a band of mercenaries and scour across the jungle giving the scallywags two options: choose peace or choose death. Many would choose the latter. Soon, the crime and violence would begin to curb, and it was at this moment The Pathmaker elected Ruhkar to become Maharaja, a customary title given to Sandeep’s people the Vendyhan.
The Maharaja knew that he’d never be able to completely eradicate the crime, but rather agreed to set clear boundaries with his people. It is the Maharaja’s ambition to revitalize the Xel-ha’s reputation of being scholars, but will his ideas become reality?
The Current Era; A New Exile
This is your part in history. Where you come to the Exiled Lands in punishment for crimes you may or may not have committed. Left nailed to the cross in the southern wastes. Many exiles remain there upon their executioner’s crucifix, and die there, blasted by harsh desert winds and feasted upon by vultures. You escaped the death tree; whether by the aid of another, by your sheer strength, or the fortune of a loose nail.
Now you stand before your destiny in the wide, wild lands before you. A second chance. Find kin, or rise as a leader. Love, hate, burn with life. Rise or fall. Live or die.