As the Vidugglas awoke in their estate they found almost all that had belonged to one of their members, Nadia, were simply gone. Her son Lovid was quietly asleep in his crib. But there were a few things left.
The first thing left was a sketchbook with two dates written on the cover. The first of those being the date of her wedding to Frejnir, the second being this very day. When leafed through all one would find were numerous sketches of Lovid and Frejnir, only ever ones of them smiling. There were numerous pages left blank, as if she hadn’t completed this life she loved so dearly. The last drawing was a refined sketch of Nadia, Frejnir, and Lovid, framed in a heart, all smiling like a family.
The second thing they’d find would be...
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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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The path that stretched out before her was cobbled and clearly well traveled. The scarred woman frowned gently as she touched the rather odd shaped bump beneath the fabric of her outfit. Tucked into her tunic, she carried a sleeping dove, resting gently against her heart, which she gently touched before beginning to jog further along the path. Her sandals clacked and clicked as she kept her head held high, staring forward.
The path simply kept stretching in front of her, her eyes squinting in the sunlight as cobble gave away to dirt and she suddenly found herself in vast plains, her head twisting to and from as she cupped the dove gently to her chest. The bird remained asleep, tucked happily against the warmth of the woman’s skin and...
Cipactli...
A hysterical laughter could be heard. The room was dark, as if it had no walls, but one spot was illuminated. The glass container sat there, full of water with barely enough room to fit a full grown man.
The laughter turned to the sounds of Hylon, but these were not beautiful, they were ominous. As if someone had died and all of these Maiars were mourning his loss. As Cipactli approach he saw the face of a female Maiar, his wife.
If Cipactli could cry he would have, this was pure torture "Wh-what have th-they d-d-done to you?" He asked, horrified. The woman in the box just laughed, but it was drowned out by all the water, normal races wouldn't hear it, but Cipactli did.
"What do you mean what did they do to me, you did...
Scornful Mistress
Eyes that glitter like the purest diamonds, with lips that spit black smoke.
Furs draped upon her shoulders, but the true claws are her own.
Who could that be there? Hiding amongst the frilly wardrobe on an unsuspecting wife. A raven-haired demon, with a grin of pure spite.
You think you own her heart,
But not all that glitters is gold.
When you leave in the morning, you’re left with nothing but a hole.
How could she be so heartless? You ask yourself with disdain. Well she isn’t. She just knows the game.
The game of love, seemingly so pure,
Is a game for fools, or so she adheres,
To the thought of a poor man’s heart stirring over her.
All that glitters is gold to them, but to her, the gold is liqueur.
(i made this...
Lonesome Nights
Perhaps it was the storm the jolted the Altalar awake, or maybe it was the lonesome feeling of her dreaded heart that had decided to shake her to her bones. She knew that sleeping wasn't going to be a possibility anymore.
With a sigh she reached and rubbed the exhaustion from her emerald eyes. Removing the silk sheets from over her. She stood, grumbling as she stalked down the stairs to the bottom floor, walking towards the windows that overlooked the ocean.
The ocean was roaring as waves crashed upon the sea wall. The once calm the ocean had become disturbed by the strange storm. Lightening striked within the water, showing her what lay beneath a few feet, rolling thunder following seconds after.
The Talar opened a...
An Old Man Wanders
Within Kelhoff estate at about one in the very morning, an elder was lying in bed. He was merely gazing up towards the ceiling, finding himself not able to shut his eyes and succumb to slumber. He soon had enough of simply awaiting for something which would not occur. Therefore, the Reverend brought both arms onto the linens rapped snugly around his bed, moving to give a large push. The Harhold grunted in pain as his bones gave a crackle, though still he continued to rise. Soon the old man brought his legs over to the bed side, both feet moving into two slippers, placed near the bed earlier. He grasped the handle of his cane, rising once more. He placed all his weight upon his feet, before leaning on his cane in...
Within the confines of her dark, dingy cell, a woman sat quietly. How long had it been? Days, weeks? It was hard for her to recall. One tends to lose all perception of how time passes in a place that runs in effectively the same manner through day and night alike. When sun and moon are not visible, and the torches hanging from the walls always cast the same sickly glow, it’s all too easy to lose track, which only quickens the impending insanity.
Day one wasn’t all that tricky. The woman still carried a level of optimism. “I’ll negotiate my way out of this; I always do.”
Day two was very much the same. “They’ve not killed me yet. I must be having some impact.”
Day three was when the insomnia, the loneliness and the depression...
"And I will love you for better or worse."
Theme
A sound close to a growl escaped from her chapped lips as she shoved the door to her study open. Tearing her coat off and tossing it to the floor, she bared her teeth in anger and covered her scarred face with her hands.
“Idiota. Should have kept your big mouth shut.” She mumbled to herself as she dragged her hands down her face, dropping her hands to her sides.
Her thoughts were a mess and her heart racing.
Slumping down into the chair before her desk, the wood creaking as her large frame settled into it, she scrubbed at her face again.
“Good going. You nearly let it all spill out.” She allowed her head to thump down upon the desk, an audible groan escaping as she...
The night falls in the year of 290, as Alfred Jack lays down on the rocks unconscious with a couple of scars and black marks on him due to a fight he recently had with an Allar, It didn't take long for him to finally open his eyes and sat back up slowly holding his head. Alfred looks around left and right to see if anyone is here before he stood up slowly on his feet holding his shoulders in pain as it shows a bite from the creature he fought earlier. He attempts to climb up some rocks before he makes it to shore not knowing where he is, all he remembers is that he is held prisoner and the fight he had.
After a couple of minutes walking around the shore lines, he discovers a small rowing boat and decided to walk towards it hoping to...
"Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad."
-Virginia Woolf
Perhaps a slight gore/graphic warning? Not exactly but there you are.
The darkness was disturbing to the Qadir that laid on her bed in her Slum apartment. At her left side, she could hear the familiar light snores of her Halfling fiancé, who'd fallen asleep with her curled against his side. The faint shine of moonlight spilled across the rough blankets covering them like milk poured by a tot. The young woman leaned her head towards her lover until her...
"As long as you can grab a breath, you fight. You breathe... keep breathing."
Katriane flung the silverware off of the side table kept by her bed. It harshly clattered against the wall, its dinging sound resonating sharply--and only amplified once it hit the ground. The table soon followed the same fate of the dainty silverware, though due to her lacking strength, all she could manage was to knock it over onto its side with a flurry of both arms. She gave a cry of dismay, of effort, and displeasure. Not even venting her physical frustration and worries was enough to relieve her. None of it was enough.
The shoes were next to be thrown. She swiped them from beside the bed and threw them towards the lounging room. The pair vaulted in...
_________________________________________________________________________
This was a cooperative effort, written by myself and @Wolf_Cobra. Both @IGutTheMidasTuch and @Gearot would have direct knowledge of this incident. Farewell to an absolutely lovely character!
_________________________________________________________________________
Jamie and Amelia sat across from one another, each nursing a wine-filled chalice. There was an odd, mechanical quality to the patriarch’s movements, as few as they were. His entire body was stagnant, the only sign of life being the hand that occasionally propelled a goblet to his lips. Jamie’s female counterpart, on the other hand, seemed her usual, impatient self; setting her feet atop a...
The Simple Knight rode forth, bobbing along with armor clanking as he trotted across the battlefield. Bodies dotted the landscape and arrows lay struck up randomly; further ahead one could see smoke rising from the camp. Approaching, the knight was greeting by the glares of soldiers, most covered in dirt and blood clutching their wounds. He ignored the stares and continued onward towards the main tent. Three men greeted the knight with a bow as he dismounted. Two seemed scrawny being either a pair of squires or servants, the other a plump man dressed in silk clothing who spoke in a deep tone. "Glad to see you finally arrive Ser Sparrow. Your absence was duly noted by his highness; I believe him to say you the most 'snail like' and...
Remembering
As the sun set on another Regalian day, and as the ocean lapped against the city docks, Czylle sat bootless with her feet hanging into the water. Besides her, a bottle of whisky, a blanket, and a stack of letters. Her gaze cast out towards the horizon. She currently did not know in which direction she faced, but in her mind she claimed it to be towards Brissaud; towards her son. The womans eyes were red, heavy; she had not slept well in several days now, and each night she had spent in tears. The woman looked to her hands, which sat clasped together on her lap. Within them was a toy horse; a small object that showed little to no use.
“Bastian..” she called toward the toy horse, which of course gave no reply, “I hope you...
"Life. We use this term so loosely, what truly defines life? It is a question that has been asked and pondered upon throughout the ages, yet nobody truly knows the answer. Some people define life as meaningless, just a process that we all share. We breathe the same air as one another, eat, sleep, laugh and cry; just like we're designed to do. Some people would say that we're all working towards something great, that every life has purpose and that we'll one day make a better place for the lives that come after our own. Sometimes, we think too much, our minds are racing with questions, answers, we feel emotions and can't express or describe them just as we want to.
Life, for those reading this is something more, and less than what we...
Part I- Denial
The figure of a bearded man stormed through the flap of his tent, flinging his equipment to the floor. He was young, but seriously wounded, and his eyes brimming with tears. Barrulf clutched at the Eyepatch covering one eye, letting out a pained and sorrowful Roar, before falling quiet, letting his frame hit the sleeping bag with a thump.
“Im sorry Uncle. I thought myself to be strong enough to accomplish anything. I could not see how Naive I truly was. If I had just taken the proper precautions-- perhaps you’d be here right now, congratulating me on my victory…"
"I am truly sorry for being so weak.”
Part II- Disappointment:
He fell into the guttering of the streets, a glob of spit landing beside his beaten, alcohol...
I used to know a girl, who had hair that was as straw. She was small, only a hair taller than two feet, but her sapphire eyes burned with a sense of adventure and curiosity that could’ve easily deceived anyone into believing she was much more than a child. The girl had one cat ear on her left side; the other lost from many a scuffle. You see, she came from a background most would scoff and revile towards, one of unpopular opinion, but one she didn’t mind in the slightest. This little girl’s heart would shine brighter than her attackers, more brilliant than the average Holy Man, I’d say. She shone bright enough to warm this old gal’s heart, that’s for sure. This little girl was named A’vela. This is just a morsel of her story.
Long...
This Story Takes place from 3-8-306 AC to 5-9-306 AC and involves the rapping of a Dressolini Family and the coming of new characters. It is a rather long chain of events however I decided to post it in order to live the story of the Valetta's. Those mentioned below were IC involved in some way.
Background
Azelgio and Amonio Valetta, the prides of their House. One of amazing mind and one of body. Together they dominated trade and music in Regalia for the time they lived there. However this is how they meet their fatal ends along with all their family.
3-8-306AC
Azelgio would receive a letter stamped with his uncle Donato's insignia, inside would be a letter about him being kidnapped at sea and being held for ransom. Quickly...
A Nightmare
“You're worthless”. Maxence shook his head, staring at his family members in sadness. Holding his balled fists to his ears.
He was trapped inside a glass case, just bigger than his height, the width not enough to stretch his arms out wide. Displayed like a caged animal whilst his family members and kin stared and pointed, laughing and whispering between each other.
“Please stop..” He called out resting his palms flat against the glass, but the laughing grew louder and rang in his ears, all he could hear was the panic in his breath and the laughing, the mocking, echoing inside his eardrums on repeat, getting louder and louder by the second.
“You're a sorry excuse for a father and a husband “ words from his wife’s...
"You see me standing while I'm dying on the floor" -Demi Lovato {Stone Cold}
To most, she was the epitome of how an Isldar was perceived by outsiders; cold, harsh and excessively ruthless and defensive on her life in the Wraith hold. Emotions appeared as foreign as Regalia once was to her: Good in some aspects. But when one lacks in what others so frequently display, they can crave it in the deepest depths of one's subconscious. Even if she consciously didn't want to feel, wanted to be 'emotionally numb' as an old friend called it, other parts of her, her most primal parts of her mind evidently had other ideas.
Like a fire, fundamental elements were needed to trigger the seldom felt emotions of the woman. Her emotions were like...
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, never been better."
The Yanar stared at their reflection in the washroom mirror, hand trailing up to go through their foliage. The needles tipped with brown and brittle. Their roses, once bloomed and a beautiful red, now wilting and muted in colour. Even their face, something that could look the same as long as they wanted, looked now worn, aged as it stared back at them, full of anguish.
"I'm fine."
How did it go wrong? Was it obvious it would happen? Were they to blame? Could they have prevented this outcome? Questions whirled around the Yanar's mind, the brushing hand leaving the mane behind to press against the mirrored visage, eyes tracing over all the new changes to them. A small flinch escaped...
Montania
The early morning was obvious to the two as they walked through the dimly lit docks, one with a faster walk compared to the heavy sluggish walk of the other. The taller of the two mutts had been woken up early that morning in surprise with his wife rambling about how the trip would be a good idea. He loved his wife but she could be a pain in the ass when she got hooked on an idea. It didn’t help that a slight flicker of paranoia came across the mutts mind as he stood near Senobia’s side as they waited to board the vessel heading to Montania. As Ruban’s mind began to wander he shifted his gaze to Seno’s stomach, an overwhelming fear coming into his mind as he began to once again over think things as per usual. He must have...
Following the hours after the visit from the Rat King and her entourage of a thousand criticisms, the growing crew of misfit bastards gathered in their den beneath a slum-house roof. The meeting had left them with a lot to digest, and a lot to consider. The fire burned lazily in the hearth, oozing an orange glow over the faces of those who were still awake, who silently sat with their thoughts.
"Dis 'as turned ou' in'chresting so far." Victor broke the silence, his voice a soft mutter. He had been progressing unremarkably and had pulled himself up to sit stiffly at the table beside Atticus and Rex, bowls with dregs of pumpkin soup sat on the table before them.
"Et's all ovah so li'l." he continued with a soft chuckle "No wunduh dese...
Mood
His first drink had been one long ago, at the young age of twenty. Soon after graduation from the Viridian Order, celebration was clearly necessary, and he found in the drink something he couldn’t seem to get from anything else. So he kept at it, seeing no reason to give it up. After all, it wasn’t as if he was dependent on it.
Then came the first tragedy. His father, simply torn from the world by a dark perversion of life, his mother, bedridden and ill. It caused guilt, regret, pain, loss— but also something new, hatred. Something he hated in himself. So he fought it it the only way he knew - drowning it. And now he could find peace, yet only in the bottom of an empty bottle. He searched for it other ways, with his music, with...
Sitting at in a cold, old left home, Dahlia was thinking.
She was here, in this place, somewhere in the slums.
And all because of this one person...
A few days earlier...
Dahlia was just walking through the streets when she heard a scream.
As fast as she could she rushed to the direction where it came from.
What she saw made her not hesitate second, and she slashed her sword into the man's back.
Bleeding, the man fell to the ground, away from a girl who was apparently pushed against the wall.
After seeing the bruises and a few cuts on her arms, Dahlia did not wait for the man to stand up.
Instead, she decided to help the girl, to lead her to somewhere safe.
Home seemed like a good option...
The girl's name was Elise.
When she...
Victor laid drowsy and sore in a pile of warm sheets and rugs, folded in their depths and thankful for their gentle cradle. His head pounded, and the inside of his mouth felt thick and raw. With a soft wince, he drew his tongue over the places his teeth had been broken, and the ulcers against the inside of his cheek. He took a breath in, the sharp cold of the air burned the inside of his nose, and his broken ribs screamed in protest of the movement. God, being right was painful. A hard, but necessary process of events to push forward his agenda. He wondered if Dorian would pick up on it, how obvious it had all been. He thought back to the man's face as he told him they needed to talk. Victor had followed him around in the hours after...
* * *
H U R I YA
- - -
F r e e d o m
- - -
"Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
-Hans Christian Andersen
* * *
When she left Blacktower, night had fallen thick once more over Regalia. She was sent off with no shove nor shout of harsh doings, but instead a polite farewell from a commander and a new bandage around her head. As she staggered off, her pockets jingled with new coin though it did not draw her attention away from the uncharacteristic lightness of her sides- sheaths empty and daggers once more gone along with her brand new finger knife which had been stolen by the Vigilants. She walked like a broken figure, head bowed and steps jumbled in an awkward shuffle. The young Qadir...
After his time in the Tower, and a long night's rest, Leopold spent most of the next day in the gardens of his estate, talking to no-one, but merely thinking, ignoring the silent procession of servants, guards, and family members who wandered past or stood guard over him - none foolish enough to speak to him.
After a great deal of thought and tribulations, he stood and began to walk, his feet taking him to the forge in the city, where he watched the Master Smith - Bahiri Durinul - at work. Bahiri looked up from his work when his Lord approached, nodding his head in respect and smiling as he continued to hammer on a bar of red-hot metal, eliciting sparks from every stroke of his hammer.
After awhile of this, Bahiri dunked the finished...
* * *
E I Q A B
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P u n i s h m e n t
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"Punishment cannot heal spirits, only break them."
-Barbara Deming
* * *
When the girl awoke once more within the dark confinements of the Bastion cell, it was to the metal gate being banged open and soon followed by the clinging of metal plates against one another as the Vigilant strolled his way into the cell. Azra did not move the smallest bit as she watched the armored man with wide eyes. She could see from her spot atop the cell 'cot' that hung from the wall, that Taliandra had awoken some point before her, peering just as uneasily at the guard as her Qadir friend. The two girls shared a brief glance that resulted only in an ache taking a grasp on Azra's stomach, anxiety twisting her...
Life always had a cruel way of breaking youthful spirit.
That’s what the boy at least came to learn. These past few months, his first few months of his stay in Regalia, had provided him ample material to judge the city life that greatly differed from the nomadic living of his Father. At first it wasn’t so bad despite the fact that there were magical beings with unlimited power that were terrorizing those that he first met. He wasn’t going to lie that he was excited about the endeavour. No, he really did enjoy the new scenery and adventure that came from it. But none of those feelings were held close to his heart when he saw the torment they brought to those he cared for and even himself. His arm still ached with the phantom pains of...
* * *
S I J N
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I m p r i s o n m e n t
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"Most people spend their entire life imprisoned within the confines of their own thoughts. They never go beyond a narrow, mind-made, personalized sense of self that is conditioned by the past."
- Eckhart Tolle
* * *
The girl stirred on the board she laid across within the belly of the Bastion, her hair briefly stuck to the wood from the blood that had been seeping constantly from the crack to her skull, though she noted that her head had been wrapped in her rather delirious state of being. Her eyes scraped across the interior of the harshly grey cell she sat in, attention soon falling on the blurry figure of her best friend, Taliandra, who remained chained to the wall as she'd been...
(These events took place on a brief trip that was time skipped for sake of roleplay.)
The crack of the whip and the cries of pain reached her ears as she pushed through the crowd. The deep purple cloak covered her from head to about knee level as she escaped into a side street.
Panting gently, she slumped against the stonewall and pressed a hand to chest, her midsection heaving with each breath. Hot tears began to roll down her face and as she swiped away at them, she pushed herself upwards and kept moving.
“...SHE IS NO BETTER THAN I! WHY HAVEN’T YOU CAPTURED HER AS WELL?” A pained voice shouted from the direction she had come, but she simply kept going. She had to keep moving, away from her family and away from the once lover, she...
The halls of the Quartier Bertrange estate were quiet as the Peirgarten family moved silently, the occasional whisper being heard every so often as they all loaded into the separate carriages.
The carriages moved off towards the church, as a few more family members gathered within the halls.
The family moved to the front of the rows as their eyes moved down the casket in the front.
Tobie looked peaceful, his hair combed back and his black robes just barely covering his bronze hand.
Amelina kept her eyes peeled anywhere but her cousin, he was like a brother to her and she couldn't believe he was gone. They fought endlessly due to his decisions and the last full conversation they had kept playing over in her head. She clenched her...
Character: Dorian Ardelan
I close the door shut, stepping inside the dark bedroom illuminated by a torch placed neatly upon the table right beside my bed. It has been a long day, and my eyes are barely keeping open. I haven't had any fine sleep in so long. I relax into my exhaustion, releasing a faint sigh of relief at the fact that I just might get some rest tonight. I sit down next to my bed, light a quick sigg, smoking it out in thought as I feel the nerves of my brain soothen out. When I am ready, I lay down on my bed slowly, leaving my boots by the corner. I rest my head sideways against my pillow and breathe out against the torch, putting it out. Lights out.
I turn to the left, toss to the right. I wrap my arms around my pillow...
Leopold sat in the spacious cell, leaning back on the purple sheets of the bed, his eyes gazing out on the stars scattered like gems in the black velvet sky that lay just outside the bars. His mind wandered as he whistled a dwarven smithing tune he remembered from the smiths at his childhood home. He had been here nearly three days awaiting the Inquisitor, and the toll it was taking on his mind was severe.
The Writ of Sin had come as a shock and Leopold was unsure how to handle the whole matter. He was certain, at first, that it could not be real. He had imagined it, or it had been some form of clerical error. He was a Knight after all; a Paladin of the Viridians. He had dedicated his life to Unionism and the Great Way, to carrying...
Warrane gazed out among the crowds, praying with all who'd gathered to spectate the Emperor's great announcement. His eyes followed the Emperor's removal of his fine wears until he looked much alike a commoner compared to the rest of the peerage. A man he looked up to, stripped of his once glorious title
only to become alike the rest of the rabble that was the peerage.
As the ghosts appeared, his jaw almost dropped. For but a moment he seemed to stammer and gag as he murmured to his cousin something to do with the dead rising from the grave and the Spirit's immense power, he'd always been a devout Unionist and now was the time to put his faith to the test. As stunned as he was, he returned to his prayer, listening to the voices of the...
The Music Itself.
He sat down afront the piano, fingers running away, flowing across the keys as he hit each note with precision and giving the ivory a thorough beating with each of his fat little fingers. First came the twang of an F natural, the pianist threw up his arms in rage and let out a sort of roar of frustration, throwing his fingers down unto the keys again to start the song that so plagued him, haunting his nightmares. Again, his left hand hit two bass notes in repetition as his right hand moved in a flurry up the arpeggios that changed so swiftly that his mind was quick to fade as he reached even the third bar and he'd falter once again, hitting just a semitone out of the way.
Another roar came from the boy, he slammed...
Silence. Stillness. Twilight. The once powerful and lively castle was utterly still as night had rolled in following the excitement of the day prior, if that is what anyone was calling it. The whole presentation was, something otherworldly. It was something that every person who called themselves a true follower of Unionism looked forward to, but, perhaps not in this manner. The Imperial Steward had called for three days of common rest after the shocking announcement and overall display and while celebrating should have been occurring, everything stood still, at least for the Paladin.
A pristine steel blade which reflected in the moonlight lay on the ground beneath a statue of the now ex-Emperor, Cedromar I. Knelt on the tile before...
Often at times I tell others that I wish to return home, to return to the colonies and see my family once again. I have lead them to believe that I had not set foot near my homeland since I had left those many years ago. But that is not the truth. I was there. I was there two years prior. I saw the horrors, the bloodshed, the death.
When you are young, you hear stories of the valor and honor it is to serve your Empire. The privilege and the rewards of fighting in war on behalf of the Emperor. But they do not prepare you for what you will see. They do not prepare you for what happens once you are there. The... things you will witness.
Curag Fields.
It was a discomforting action. Some of us were there for our loyalties to the Emperor...