Travels of The Lumbarian Healer

What follows is an autobiography of 445, Healer and Diplomat of Lumber Coast

I joined rather late in session 4, wandering the desert starving and fleeing from spiders. After my first death I respawned at the gate of a one-building settlement which I hesitantly approached and asked if I could join. I was very quickly recruited then as the settlement required another specialist if they were to survive. Lumber Coast had no healer at that point and so they gave me stacks of sugarcane to grind with. I then became the settlements' first and only healer: Healer445.

It was constant work session 4 and 5. We barely had enough farmers for food production, our miners were being savaged by mobs in our crude mine, and I had to constantly bless food to heal everyone since we didn't have flowers for me to create bandages. While I would help fall trees and grind for healing, I slowly noticed the demographic divide of the Lumbarians:

Some like 427, 679, and 436 were determined to stay put in the settlement despite the dismal conditions due to the freedom of life there. Others weren't satisfied, and would leave the settlement in hopes of finding the larger nations like Promised Land or Ducklands. 259, for instance, got tired of being killed in the caves as a miner session 4 and decided to move out for food and safety to grind in, only to return infrequently. These players would still hang on to a bit of the Lumbarian identity, however.  This class of temporary residents would play a central part in later Lumber Coast geopolitics.

The continent was also the home of the scant and scarcely seen Sandmen: players unaffiliated with any nation, not bothering with specialization, and living off the rabbits that spawned there or what they stole from neighboring civilizations

Session 5 ended with an attack by 361(acting alone), in which we fled to our first hideout fearing they were the first wave of an organized raid on Lumber Coast. The session ended with confusion as the entire server theorized that Kustland had been behind this "attack". 

Until then, Lumber Coast was an unconfirmed civilization due to most players having left the spawn desert long ago. But our presence had been made apparent due to nationalistic art posted to the discord(some of which I made) and early cartographical efforts revisiting the Australian continent. 

Councilmember 123 of Kustland, a northern nation close to the edge of the desert, had then proposed(and merely proposed) that Kustland attack the similarly small Lumber Coast as our proximity to the world spawn caused many new players to join/stop at Lumber Coast instead of Kustland(who also desired more players for development). This idea was mostly rejected by the other Kust, but when Lumbarians cried that an "organized raid" began right before session 5 the world then assumed the Kust had been behind it. It was simply poor timing that the Kust(and later 123 individually) bore the blame for this incident when 361 was just a rogue Sandman sacking Lumber Coast.

Despite the fact this incident was nothing more that a little murder that took place in a stone-age town, the misinformation which erupted from this hailed a new era of foreign relations across the server: fear of terrorism.

It became obvious Lumber Coast had not been sacked when session 6 began. We lived once more, now under the same cloud of paranoia that spread through the rest of the world. In my mind, our nationalist art and active discussion with the other nations had led to the attack. Even after the journalists came to the conclusion it had been a simply exaggerated murder, I still felt as if we had damaged our prospects as a nation. Damaged the world with hear-say. But I didn't do or say much with these thoughts then. I simply focused on the grueling repetition of blessing and working for the commune. Those around me acted, however. In Lumber Coast, the difference between permanent residents and temporaries became grossly apparent. 202, a temporary who assigned himself the role of LC's diplomat, had began to visit other nations without consulting the rest of the community and do reckless things only meant to stir conflict and "troll"(as he confided in me once) the rest of the server. He'd go to Kustland and demand reparations for the raid that they didn't plan. He'd go to Promised Land and start fights and threaten war. He stole armor from somebody as well(I never learned what became of that). Even when in Lumber Coast he'd boss the other members around and crassly dismiss any criticism or opinions the other residents had. Attempts to stand up to him by those like 679 to stop endangering our small nation only served as an opportunity to ragebait and argue with the permanent residents. In the power-vacuum the communal structure of LC had, 202 faced zero authority for his actions. By session 8, with more and more diplomats, new players, and sandmen involving themselves in Lumber Coast, the permanent residents decided something must be done about 202's recklessness. Despite the town meeting being interrupted, it was agreed upon he be killed and banished.

Session 9, once our forestry had recovered from a sandman's arson, 679 and a Promised Land peacekeeping force searching for terrorists repeatedly killed 202 before he was driven off from Lumber Coast. Other temporary Lumbarians(or even permanents who were associated with 202, like 259) were also labelled as terrorists and repeatedly attacked by other nations(primarily Promised Land's intense guardsman caste). Lumber Coast's residents developed a "KOS" list of members/ex-members who had too poor of reputations to be accepted by the community. This was never really enforced by the permanents(202 even visited briefly-- resulting in only a brief standoff) and only really served as a diplomatic gesture: that other nations could ask for these individuals if we harbored them and be allowed to do as they wished. Even those who only attacked us were rarely treated as enemies forever. The arsonist sandman, 945, was even rehabilitated in our prison tower and gradually entered the commune as a proper Lumbarian. 361, the lone rogue of session 5, would return after his travels to Lumber Coast to be nursed back to health with my food. This post-202 period was a period of development as well, with the new permanents maintaining what had been built and creating new accommodations for travelers from the Central Sea.

I'm going to step-back from LC's broad history and discuss my personal travels. I found myself increasingly curious of this world which seemed to throw itself onto my little rock of a home. As Promised Land reeled from terrorist group Superia's massacre and western nations in general grew even more alert of random attacks and outsiders, I felt uneasy about the future of my small nation. Not having a diplomat since 202's self-appointment, I decided to take leave of Lumber Coast for the first time since session 4 and journey west to see their cities and try to connect with their leaders. 

After getting lost almost immediately boating away from a skeleton on the sea road, I came upon the shore of Beach Town. After the initial shock of the city's grandeur, I noticed it was empty save for a lone builder who shared his food with me. The following day I entered the Promised Land by unknowingly helping their guardsman save a drowning afk player. The massive city delighted me, and I began to forget why I had gone there and explored and eavesdropped on the peoples of Promised Land. But as I eavesdropped the citizens I learned that the nation had shut down its borders to visitors and immigrants. Uneasy, I realized that cordial encounter with the soldiers was the only reason I was able to enter Promised Land alive. As the guardsmen surveyed the border, the Promised Land builders scrambled to construct the monstrous Tower of Babel and the Librarian had returned with an incredible map of the known world. Once again this city stunned me with its complexity and might.

My enthused wandering ended when the entire nation was summoned to the city hall for a speech by returning President Red. He began the ceremony by patiently tolerating the Jester's surprise visit to the stage and the unruly crowd of his nation. After a heartfelt thanks to his people's loyalty and support for him in his absence, he began his historic speech. Declaring in an approachable but stentorian manner his "War on War" he would lead the nation through. He stated clearly his reluctance for violence, but his recognition that aggressive action was required to defend PL. And when he named the enemies of his nation, aside from the unsettled terrorist groups like Superia, he then stated that Lumber Coast was among them. That Lumber Coast planned the destruction of the Promised Land. With sinking horror, I realized that he thought of my entire people as a threat. The damage of 202 remained, and would soon reap terrible consequence.

But in a surprisingly egalitarian gesture, he invited anyone in his nation to take the stage and add to his words. As the librarian took the podium, I contemplated this opportunity. As an outsider who could be killed if discovered, a public appeal on that stage might be the only chance I have at communicating the true situation of the Lumbarians to Promised Land. This act would make me, unarmed and unarmored as I was then, vulnerable to attack by the entire guard of the Promised Land. Sensing a duty to my friends back on the coast, I decided to take the stand.

I began, with a wavering anxious voice, confessing my status as a Lumbarian here-- as an infiltrator among the crowd I had joined-- but also as someone utterly stunned by the grandeur and beauty of this distant city. Sensing this compliment likely didn't ease the suspicions of the crowd, I rather turned to the President beside me and frankly stated that it broke my heart he thought of my people as enemies. I clarified the impoverished state of LC and how we too were the victims of terror. Victims of misrepresentation and of confusion and of attack just as the people of PL had been. Surprisingly, 361 shouted from the crowd that I was telling the truth. He had joined the Promised Land guardsmen and those in the crowd trusted his word. After a look of recognition from him, the President thanked me for speaking and pledged aid and friendship to Lumber Coast. My heart thundering, I descended the stage and joined 361 in the hall gallery for the rest of the town ceremony. I don't know how much my words influenced the future relations of Lumber Coast with Promised Land(or with the rest of the world), but at the moment I felt important. That I had saved my people from some misguided carnage between the West.

Following my successful communication with Promised Land, I decided to extend my sojourn and help the librarian document Lumber Coast and the rest of the Australian continent. These were lazy days for me, writing in my books and occasionally blessing food for my PL hosts. The Jester even invited me to his wedding, which I planned on attending. These lazy days ended when word of an impending attack by terrorists had the whole of PL rounded into the Tower of Babel's top floor to wait out the attackers. This panic led me to contemplating my presence there. It was one of the last sessions, and I was far from my home as terrorists were attacking everywhere. Maybe Lumber Coast.

I took a boat, rode off the tower, and began tracing the sea roads back to Lumber Coast. Right as I was about to dock at home, a pair of players running down the sea road with bows and axes saw me. Clad in diamond armor, they immediately got into a boat of their own and chased me. Demanding my identity and to stop. I panicked and paddled to the shore of the desert and began to run. An unfortunate new-spawn had crossed my path, and one of the brutes took after him, quickly killing him. The other was soon behind me. Knowing that fleeing to the badlands would just ensure my demise without any shelter, I turned to Lumber Coast and weaved through the trees of the forestry to buy me time. As I came up to the Rabbit's Foot-- the oldest building of Lumber Coast-- I realized what a horrible thing I had done. Horrified, I warned the two Lumbarians who were online, and fled as they had to confront the villains alone.

I wordlessly rowed back to Promised Land on my boat. Believing I had doomed my nation.

Arriving to Promised Land, I found the guardsmen and warned them of the rogues making their way westward. But I could barely get my words out before chaos hit PL from the South. The redcaps and a rogue sandman had began to sack the great city. As swords and arrows flashed around the foot of the tower and lava engulfed the mostly wooden town, I once again decided to flee. I stole the horse of Guardsman 904(who I've yet to apologize to for this) and fled into the savannah before departing by boat northward from the PL docks with some other refugees. My aim was to find LC(flattened and destitute, I assumed) and try to redeem myself to my fellow Lumbarians.

But I found that Lumber Coast still stood. The builder 633 and farmer 679 had taken arms and were fending off waves of sandmen who pitifully batted at them with wooden axes. With my stone hatchet, I helped them destroy the enemy spawn and repair what had been torched. Paradoxically, the simple and squat wooden buildings of Lumber Coast were easier to repair mid-battle than it was to grief them. Once this carnage ceased, I caught up with my companions and confessed my guilt over leading the rogues to them. They forgave me against all odds and found comfort in their healer's return. 

I then checked beneath the flooring of the Rabbit's Foot, and found that the banner the PL librarian had placed there had survived the sacking. The demarcation showing we, Lumber Coast, were at the heart of the Known World.

The final hours of the trial had began. Fighting was breaking out across the world, whilst Lumber Coast was allowed a brief respite from the devastation. Although my countrymen took this lull to recuperate and enjoy these moments here in their home, I felt suddenly discontent once more. I had spent most my life in the Lumber Coast and only saw the great nations of the West right before their destruction. I decided then to take one last journey from my home to the north to see each settlement once right before the server came to an end. Setting off alone, I rowed silently to the jungle shore to empty Kustland and the panicking Ducklands, in awe in how lovely their settlements were. I then snuck into the empty Madagascar, wandering the bamboo palace alone(soon after, I learned, my countryman 259 burned the whole thing to the ground). Passing by Duckland on my way north-east, I spied the Jester and some Promised Land citizens preparing to sack it. I visited the eerily silent Sanctuary in the oak woodlands and then climbed the impressive(but, alas, empty) skybase of the mysterious Elpidea. I found a tempting enchanted iron armor set sat on a stand when I climbed the structure, and stole it for my own. Along the coast of Australia, I briefly saw Porkland as some group began fighting there. I chose that frightening moment to return home. And what I discovered shocked me.

As beds were destroyed across the world, many players spawned again in the Spawn Desert for the first time since each one's respective escape. They then all met in Lumber Coast, where my people had hosted a feast to the unarmed masses of the globe. I returned, reporting my travels(and the trinkets I had stolen) and contributing to the fanfare and cultural exchange. Lumber Coast stood as the last civilization of Trial 0, against all odds. Besides occasional bare-fisted homicide, this grand global banquet was peaceful and cathartic. All seemed content with the impending end, especially my fellow Lumbarians.

I won't detail the world-border apocalypse, as I believe we're plenty familiar with it(and I've yapped for far too long). My story, my travels ended here. Home.