“Nobody said that the game would be easy,
Nobody said it would be straightforward.
Nobody said it would make sense.”
To my dearest mother, my greatest friend.
I write to you with hopes that you might set my head straight, for I have always sought your council.
I did not expect Regalia to be so full of confusion. There is not one straight line to walk and instead, there are ifs and buts around every corner.
After ten years learning, devoting myself to my code and my knighthood, I believed I was ready, believed I could face everything.
But I was left unprepared. I did not forsee the hostility Regalia brings, nor its emotions and its false promises.
Within the walls I have been for but a month, but already my mind is filled with...
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Inventory Split Incoming
MassiveCraft will be implementing an inventory split across game modes to improve fairness, balance, and player experience. Each game mode (Roleplay and Survival) will have its own dedicated inventory going forward. To help players prepare, we’ve opened a special storage system to safeguard important items during the transition. For full details, read the announcement here: Game Mode Inventory Split blog post.
Your current inventories, backpacks, and ender chest are in the shared Medieval inventory. When the new Roleplay inventory is created and assigned to the roleplay world(s) you will lose access to your currently stored items.
Important Dates
- April 1: Trunk storage opens.
- May 25: Final day to submit items for storage.
- June 1: Inventories are officially split.
Please make sure to submit any items you wish to preserve in the trunk storage or one of the roleplay worlds before the deadline. After the split, inventories will no longer carry over between game modes.
Player Stories
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She's never been embarrassed like this before...
Juane was just sitting in the Tavern where it all happened.
She became impatient when the barmaid refused to give her a drink because she was too busy talking to an Inquisitor.
Quickly, the topic switched to magic, where Juane gave her opinion on it.
Not liking any of this, the Inquisitor took her to the Black Tower, where he threatened to deport her if she didn't keep her mouth shut.
Knowing she had to play this safe, Juane apologized, and soon after this, the two headed back to the Tavern, where she was forced to apologize for her 'heretical' comments.
She felt like a fool.
Luckily, she caught his name.
Alfred Rolfe.
Now, at home, in her room, the doors guarded by two Watchers...
εїз ᴀ ɢʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴜsᴇʜᴏʟᴅ εїз
Part one.
The curfew alarm sounded through the streets like echoes of swarming bees, guards from all sorts of charters knocking on every bushiness' door with a warning for all non ailor to flee back into their homes. Nienna had soon gotten this warning, being the last to leave and lock up the Apothecary doors.
She'd begin speed-walking as fast as her little legs could take her, hearing off in the distance bands of screaming people and slamming doors. Her small body shook in fear as she continued to flee from her place of work towards her home that was ever so far away within the Ithanian district. She could feel her heart beating in her throat as the warning sounds of thunder and dark clouds strolled...
"In every walk with nature one recieves far more than he seeks."
-John Muir
“Let’s just stay like this for the rest of the day.” Her voice murmured as she nuzzled her face into the woman’s scarred chest. Catalina shifting to rest her head in the crook of Sera’s shoulder, gazing towards her.
Sera let out a little chuckle as she stroked her fingers through the woman’s bed mused hair. She leaned down and planted a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“As much as I would love that, mi alma, the city needs me. And the recruits aren’t going to teach themselves.” She rumbled, causing the other to giggle and rest her head back down upon her chest, listening to Sera’s heartbeat.
Despite her own words, Sera made no move to release her wife from...
"Art by Thix-Eix"
Alchemy Sounds for the Mood
Alchemy log, O’ Seven - O’ Seven, 306 AC.
Introduction:
Our team has been working extensively on Duister. It isn’t easy to pinpoint what exactly is in the potion that makes the time of duration tick. Allreizz has been leading the operation alongside Ssaall. I’ve been getting carried along with in all honesty. Despite my limited knowledge, I hope to become more of a help than a nuisance to the team. Only time and progress will tell.
Progress:
So far, Ssaall and I have started progress in pinpointing the ingredients which directly affect duration. My first hypothesis targeted Vocadine, solely because of a hunch, however in our progress and knowledge of other potions with the...
Music for the Mood!
The sound of clicking steps could be heard approaching the hatchery. Several hatchlings rested soundly, their talons curled upwards into their chests, tails wrapped tightly around each other to maintain warmth. They all seemed healthy and in good shape, aside from one…
As the clicking steps came to a stop, a brief figure stood, shadowed and straight, the dark beast wielded a large spiked Mohawk. Consisting of feathers protruding upwards, this style could be seen statically moving much like a tidal wave.
The figure hesitated as he scanned the nests.
This wasn’t a typical egg count, no... This was something more sinister. After several cautious seconds, he’d climb the steps to the upper floor nests. As he passed...
It is noon, Bra’ak Uruk sits on a stool, supposedly to teach younger orcs about Unionism. The only problem? Bra’ak knows nothing of Unionism.
In Vashkullar
“Hello there little ones, might I say you’re all just as ugly as your parents hehe.”
The kids laughed at his joke,this was going good for Bra’ak, so far.
“I’m not here to bore you with a stupid Unionism lesson, instead I’m here to speak of Vakgar’s Call.”
The children look confused, why would a guard with a lot of shit on his record even think of doing such a thing that could easily get him fired?
“Let’s think about this yes? If the spirit created everything then why would it want us to sacrifice our shit for its well being? I don’t know about you but I never sacrificed anything...
They laid on the uncomfortable cot, eyes unfocused and body limp and curled. They barely ate and drank. Sleep only coming when their eyes refused to remain open. How long had it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? They didn't know. How could they when they were trapped in a prison of their mind. Hearing the screams of pain, the sounds of whips and blades through the air. The screams were their sister's yet...they had seen her after. She wasn't harmed....A trick? Illusion? They swallowed, throat brushing against the metal now circling it. It wasn't real. It was all a terrible dream. They couldn't be an aberrant. The Phantasma's grasp proved it. So why? Why were they collared like an animal? Why were they stuck here, away from everyone, and unable...
Sweet Dreams
It was a quite night when Anna went for a walk. Peaceful and cold, the perfect weather for her. She walked around the never sleeping city with a smile, a coat drapped around her shoulders to keep her relitively warm. Her boots made silent thumping sounds on the stone as she passed the Golden Willow, pausing at the front staircase.
She looked up at the building, pondering if she should drink away her sorrows once more. Though she frowned at her thoughts. The elf brought her hands up to run through her now shorter hair, she turned on her heels and silently went to the park.
It felt good to walk for once. She had been cooped up in her house for the past two weeks due to her injury and quite frankly, she hated it. She felt...
"Come on laddies! We gotta get shippin' to Daendroc soon!" yelled the captain as Zas'kince Allas boards the ship. The sun beating on who ever was under it, and the ocean breeze cooling the air. Sailors were getting ready to begin sailing.
"Can't wait to get to Daen..." muttered Zas'kince as he went to his secluded area to lay onto his bed. He'd lay there, thinking and listening to the Captains orders to his sailors. "Wonder what the trip will bring.." he thought to himself.
"Alrightie mates, lets ge' t'ship movin'!" yelled and bossed the captain, the sailors getting ready to set sail and ship off. Zas'kince would get up and wobble his way up on deck. He'd stand at the front end of the ship as a Dragged Crow caws and perches on his...
“Look at you, harlot. Not so big and powerful now that you don’t have that Altalar on your arm, now are you?”
His voice growled in her head as she sat on the edge of her bed, eyes staring blearily down into the nearly dry bottle of red wine. He was not truly there, not physically. But she could still hear his words cutting into her.
It was the voice of her father, snarling in her head. Berating her, being disappointed in her for every action and choice she made. Even when she was young, if she chose to wear the wrong color, he would berate her. But now, all he was was another voice to haunt her.
She tipped her head back and drank deeply of what was left of the wine. Her hands shook as she gingerly set the bottle and then dragged her...
An Introduction to Magic
I am Hector Khada. You may not know my name, you may not know my face. You probably have little idea of who I am. But these are the results of my studies, among my many years on Aloria. This study will break the magic down for you into its different types, and show you the true methods by which the mages control the world.
First, you have many different types of magic, but they can almost all be classified into Void and Exist magic, depending on which energies they tap. Interestingly, they are viewed different socially, but that is a part for a different segment. In this compilation of various studies, you will find all the information you require, whether you're an aspiring mage or one wishing to learn of...
Rowena had spent her afternoon in a haze of light intoxication and pure bliss. A wonderful evening in the presence of her friends, the cradle of foreign-labeled champagne from Daendroc. After the festivities were over, she took the time to look at herself within the mirror.
Her skin was like porcelain, smooth and refined. Pale and without flaws. She ran her soft fingertips over her face, examining for any imperfections. While she saw them everywhere, whether it be a long eyelash, an off crease in her lip, or a slight discoloration over her eyes. With that she applied to her face a thin mask.
Two crushed ruby flowers, whole.
Dried and then tea saturated Axford Maiden.
Ground wormsfern, two tablespoons
Raw milk from an Anglian Black Cow...
In the year 130 the first recorded member of the O’Mhuireuchu, the founder of the clan. A man by the name of Lairgnen, a simple farmer in Old Ceardia, and his wife Aigi. He would be the first to give life to the family, and spark generations of strong willed O’Mhuireuchus’ to come. In the mid to late 100s, far before the birth of Caderyn I the Dominant, Old Ceardia was subsequently destroyed by the Archdemon. In this time, many kingdoms fell, not excluding the Kingdom of Myrrin, where the O’Mhuireuchu lived within a local manor.
Upon the fall of Myrrin, and the virtual apocalypse that was Old Ceardia’s collapse, the O’Mhuireuchu became refugees in the remarkably harsh landscape that was Gallovia. Around this time, Caderyn I the...
The event that haunted the Turall's memory played in his mind once more as he finally drifted off to sleep... Jake Morgen's hands went to the swords sheathed at his sides, for comfort more than anything as the memories played again...
__________________________________________________________________________
He was in Turall, in the pit. He was facing off against a girl he'd known for a while, they'd started to become friends. The wooden shortswords clashed repeatedly against one another, both of them at an equal match. The instructors watched impassively as the two fought hard. It was the best fight Jake had had in a while, and his adrenaline was pumping as he raised a leg, kicking her backwards and darting forward, putting her on...
Peter, Frederick and Niko Winslough had set off to Habichtsburg, leaving the gates of the Holy City with only a small escort, as their house guards and house staff there in the city had been dismissed.
As they neared the borders of Ostlaukirchen, Peter sighed, saying over to Niko while slowing the pace of his steed. “Sad, sad indeed. We no longer have a hold over our land here. Though, it will forever be our home.” Peter sighed, adjusting his longsword’s sheath. “It’s a pity we lost everything so early. The vassalage declaration was entirely in vane. Plans ruined. But this won’t be our end. I can assure you cousin. This was not our golden age. But merely the beginning.”
As they continued along the country road and past the gates of...
An Introduction to Magic
I am Hector Khada. You may not know my name, you may not know my face. You probably have little idea of who I am. But these are the results of my studies, among my many years on Aloria. This study will break the magic down for you into its different types, and show you the true methods by which the mages control the world.
First, you have many different types of magic, but they can almost all be classified into Void and Exist magic, depending on which energies they tap. Interestingly, they are viewed different socially, but that is a part for a different segment. In this compilation of various studies, you will find all the information you require, whether you're an aspiring mage or one wishing to learn of...
The Vampire crept up, pressing himself into the corner as his three targets moved about the room. As of yet, they hadn't noticed him, his cloak melting into the shadows as though he wasn't there. He may as well have been invisible as, on a nearby rooftop, his partner set up her Anglian Longbow. He watched the three targets intently, his hands resting on his knives...
THUNK!
A massive arrow suddenly protruded from the chest of one of the three, the woman. having soared through the window. Immediately, as they started setting up and trying to prepare and find cover... He reached out, his hand grasping the mouth of one as he dragged them into the shadowy corner, his fangs piercing the man's neck, drinking greedily of his blood. He tossed...
No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his rage.
-Plutarch
“I’ll take good care of Ale, I promise, Sera. We’ll go and stay with Ry, ‘til all of this is over. Don’t you worry, okay? We’re gonna be safe, okay?”
Her sister’s words played over and over within her head as she lay on the couch in the estate, the fire nearby crackling gently.
It had been a day. A day that had started off not terribly well, quickly turned a tad less so. With a successful interview and a new recruit in the ranks, she enjoyed a cup of kaffee and had settled in to listen to the hustle and bustle of the Teahaus and the city outside.
Then the day turned even better, with the finishing of the new...
It is well known that prolonged exposure to planar essences, be they void or exist in nature, will result in the so called 'magic touch', a recurring dream about the plane the essence exposed to originated from. The magic touch is often what prompts the learning of magic.
A tranquil breeze blew gently across fields of tall wheat grass, the stalks swayed as if they were in some rhythmic dance. A Cielothar lay basking upon a boulder among the wheat. She was a young child, barely fourteen at the time. She was often found laying on her rock in fair weather when she could wear a sundress and go without shoes safely. This boulder happened to be a favored napping spot of hers.
“Sa’leolla!” A woman called from a small hut on a hill nearby...
I.
Pride
"I''m not invisible... Am I?"
We ruled the world together, he and I. Our seed of friendship blossomed into something that a mere flower metaphor just couldn't describe. Together, we ruled over the district under an Iron fist and all who steps to us are left at our boundless mercy. A crime syndicate so large yet so silent that we stretched from the shifting deserts of Farah'deen to the blistering tundra of Ellador. There was no visible end to our power and for once... We were content at least he was.
II.
Lust
"I long for their warmth."
We were at our peak and time that was once burnt on work was now left for our leisure. I'll never forget the night where I was cradled by the warmth of the fireplace, protected from the...
Trigger Warning: Abuse
Behind Closed Doors
A frustrated, angry yell echoed throughout the small city house. A young red-headed teenager was curled into a ball in the corner of his room, looking up towards a ripped and shirtless figure. Tears dribbling down his cheeks as he choked on his sobs.
“P-Please, I- I’m so s- sor--”
“You aren’t f**king sorry! All you care about is your damned self! Huh?? Isn’t that right, Adrian?” roared Nemesio down at him. He took a few strides forward towards Adrian, a hand extended. He slapped him. Hard. The teen let out a pained yelp, his breath raggedy from crying.
“P-Please? I- I didn’t m-mean to--” he muttered through his sniffling.
“You didn’t mean to be a fat f**king coward? F*ck off! This is your own...
Never before had the crumbling, subterranean chambers of the Tohn Valeer seemed so resplendent and full of life as they did upon Imuline’s most recent visit.
Though the halls were very, very old, the warm light cast by the many lanterns illuminated living quarters, shops and leisure rooms that were not only kept neat and clean, but that had actually been restored in many cases from partially collapsed hollows to their former elegant beauty. The underground passages seemed less like passages and more like nighttime city streets, bustling with colourful, graceful Maraya and their reptilian cattle, the scene all lit by the glow of candles, torches, braziers and hanging lanterns, and the larger chambers were truly a sight to behold. The...
The Altalar sat at his desk within the finance offices of one of the many Nelfin Kingdoms. His quill which carried ink at the tip raced across the pages as Fennor filled out chart upon chart, sheet upon sheet. This was the man's daily life within the city and soon he would part from such an occupation. Part from such a life. Not because of the life he lived, though because of war. Recently, the Regalian Empire led by Crown Prince Alexander made an attack upon the many kingdoms, beginning the Elven War of 302 A.C. He found himself at risk and wished to make a move so he may reside on the safer side of this conflict.
…
He had made plans. Various arrangements to secure his departure from the Nelfin states. A vessel at the harbor, manned...
“Do you smell it…?” Bangsi asked Wolfgang Drache as they stood over the butchered Elven archer on the ground across from the Goddess’ temple.
If truth be told, Wolfgang did not smell it at first. He was a young man, roughly the age of twenty-four with raven black hair. He looked as gallant as any Knight should. He always combed, kept his beard shaved, and wore the scar on his face as an badge of honor. He kept his silence nonetheless.
“The stench smell. I don’ know.” the Skagger followed up with a reply. Bangsi was a blonde hair man of war with countless battles he fought and won in. He was a Skagger afterall. His rampage bested even the mightiest of foes. The numerous scars showing on his white skin show his battle-harded...
“Home by the river,
Right by our mother dearest,
We take a fern and pull it up,
And then we stream along,”
Cielothar sat, legs folded in, as they were weaving dried ferns together in unison. Little children ran about happily with flower crowns adorning their heads. It was bright and cheery outside, with some wind elves singing along to the melody of a song buried deep in their pasts. Their harvest was nearly ready to be gathered, seas of grains and corns waving in the distance, but today was seen as too nice of a day to work the fields. After all, they did have all the rest of the season to work.
One after another, the Cielothar began to pick up a new tune. All at once, they passed off their completed baskets and began new ones...
The moon was full, bathing the streets of the holy city in a silvery gleam. The faint neighing of a horse could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the clacking of its hooves and the hollow creaks of the cart it pulled. Warm candlelight shone from every window, terrace, and tavern from which you could hear both heartfelt lullabies and drunken sea shanties. Amidst it all sat a couple on a bench in the park
The man was draped in a dark cloak which obscured a recognizable patterened waistcoat of crimson shades. The woman was leaned back with a calm and relaxed demeanor , her spouse gently necking the side of her throat.
A group of young sailors came stumbling along the calm pathways, disturbing the silence as they cracked poorly...
A Long Night
The night was quiet, peaceful. A window had been left ajar to let in the cool summer air. Adrian sat on the bed, his head resting on his knees as he looked out towards the starlit sky, unable to find refuge in sleep; so instead, he thought.
He thought about his day.
It had been pretty normal, actually. He’d helped a patient with their bruises and bandages, shared some noodles at The Jade Rooster Noodle bar with Ozy (though, Ozy ate most of them), and then headed home.
He thought about his past.
He remembered the beaches of Daenshore, the sandcastles he used to make with his brother.
He remembered all the friends and family he’d left back there, and felt a pang in his chest.
He remembered his old self: social and...
Why Smile?
Red.
The room was dark but his thoughts were red.
The color of love. The color of his scarf. The color of passion and strength..
Red the color staining the clothes of the Ardelans after someone had crossed them.
The color of anger.. rage... blood.
The boy screwed his eyes shut as he lay still in his bed, gripping the thin blankets as his chest heaved rythemcally up and down.. up down. Air felt heavier, he couldn't breathe, the blankets were strangling him.
Red, the color of blood. The color of fire.
The blankets were on fire, he was on fire.
A shuddering sob escaped Oz as he ripped the blankets off and sat up quickly, leaping off his bed. Something fell off the table beside the bed as he stumbled into it, crashing...
“You’ll be home for the party?”
“I promise.”
“Then please return home safely.”
Sera turned her eyes down to peer into those of her wife’s. The Avanthar sat mounted atop her horse as her wife stood nearby, a hand resting gently on her leg. Despite having clearly heard the words the other woman had spoken, she had heard similar words of another echo within her mind, which she promptly shook off.
Get home safely. Please.
“I will do my best.”
They had forged a delicate truce of sorts- for the sake of their youngest child’s naming day celebration that would occur when Sera returned from handling her errand. It had, surprisingly enough, Catalina’s idea. After a rather tense conversation between, they agreed to set their anger and...
June 12th, 306 A.C.
This morning was relatively quiet in the Estate's courtyard, of course not counting the bird's sharp chirps and the soft sounds of hedge trimming. However, I'm glad the sounds weren't screams, shouts, begs, or protests; Sounds that inevitably would course through my eardrums in just a few hours time when I arrive in the city for my daily duties at the slum's gate or otherwise.
The slum's gate and beyond is a godless place, filled with demons in their own right, accompanied by Void dripping, criminal scum. They make our city dishonorable and distasteful to say the least - and yet they don't care to change. They enjoy their heretic and traitorous ways despite it ultimately being the death of them all.
Some of them...
Johanna Haaven sat inside of her room within the Haaven country-side Estate, carefully surveying herself in front of the room's intricate mirror. She sat forward in her chair, thus causing the cyan cushions to shift with her weight; weight that she believed to be too much, yet not enough. With a growing frown, she slowly leaned back in her chair to resume the cushion's previous position. With just a single glance, the Haaven found many flaws: fading hair dye, a rebel curl, scars, uneven piercings, an imperfect posture, belly fat, thunder thighs... She was very clearly, noticeably so, naive to the fact that nobody else noticed the flaws she loathed, thus her thoughts continued.
A huff escaped the woman's lips before she stood with a...
Finally.
Ardige stood there, looking out from the upper battlements of what was formerly the Elven Fort Pau. But no longer. It had been a swift and decisive battle. From the sea had come several Kade ships, skirting the very edge of the fort’s range of fire. Then came the men from the beach where Ardige had commanded. They had landed earlier in the day protected by morning mists, climbing up the hills around to the north side of the fort. A variety of troops made up of spearmen, swordsmen, horsemen and siege engines headed up toward the city. However, so focused they had been on the sea that they barely had time to mount a defense at their great wooden door.
Now he stood there, able to look around this conquered territory. The fort...
"Chanting, hundreds, maybe thousands of voices. They shout out, screaming to be entertained; swarming the stands around this oh so hollow hole in the ground." The milky-eyed old man gave a rather high-pitched chuckle and nodded some. "They're all here for you, Krash."
Through the smoke stepped a small Qadir, gripping his spear so tightly and holding his shield close to his chest. His armour glistened in the sunlight and perhaps one could maybe make out the religious inscriptions across his wears if they tried hard enough. Most of the crowd begun booing, somehow upset at the sight of this so-called gladiator stepping into the fighting pits; it was easy enough to remember the great pitfighters in Amkhar and this measly Qadir was not one...
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."
-Friedrich Nietzsche-
Theme
The wood creaked and crackled in the fireplace, tossing shadows upon the wall as the singular occupant of the study sat, slouched in a chair by the window. A brown and white cat slept peacefully in the woman’s lap, softly purring as her bandaged hands stroked over the creature's fur.
Her eyes focused on the few clouds that lazily made their way across the moon and starlit sky. A breath escaped her body, slow and easy. An inhale and then an exhale as she continued to stare out into the night, her eyes squinting a bit before she slowly pushed herself up from the chair, going to place the still sleeping feline into...
Quivering, crying on the ground, grasping for a breath of fresh air and all the while fighting for his life. The stave slammed into his cheek, a loud cracking sound coming from his jaw as the boy fell from his sitting position, sprawled unto the gravel. His face pressed into the hot soil beneath him, a boot resting on his head as the beast claimed it's victory. The child, a mere boy of nine years stared into the distance, through blurred vision through blood, sweat and tears. His hatred consumed him as his gaze rose to that of a man standing above him, the child reaching out for his own stave before a loud thwack came from his right and he let out yet another scream as his hand was broken.
The man slowly removed his boot, closing his...
The slums never had a particular allure to anyone; the smell that drifted from the shoddy sanitation could hardly be lifted by the distant ocean breeze, but Valerie found her feet trailing old paths from muscle memory alone.
In the dead of night, not even the scum of the city dared bother her, because the darkness brought either rest or fear of much more dangerous things to the most sinister of the city. But to Valerie, the shadows were a comfort, even if it had been a while since she had needed to know every shortcut, twist, and turn. Even the smell was something distant, but familiar—nostalgia lingered in the back of her mind, but she could never be sure exactly what she was nostalgic for. Nights like these dragged her back to her...
The warriors surrounded him, their blades drawn.... He growled softly, his blades slowly sliding out of their sheathes, the girl beside him drawing her own. The bandits attacked, relying on sheer force of numbers to try and take down the opposing duo... Jake's blades stabbed into the gut of one charging warrior, him kneeling and shoving upwards, sending the bandit flying back behind him, dead... Meanwhile, the girl he had come to love slashed at two, slicing their throats. Her blades found their way into another bandit, and Jake swept his legs out, knocking one down as his swords found his way into his chest. He spared only the slightest glance to his comrade before moving onto the next enemy, one blade going downward towards his...