The air was filled with a reverberating ambience that night, upon the streets of Gdénsk. It grew, like the graceful build of a Dressolini bel canto amidst an opera. It was the clatter of chains, before anything: a sort of chiming of metal upon metal, much like church bells on an autumn morning. The metallic chattering grew in its magnitude, filling the side streets, much to the nervous disposition of Gdénsk’s local guardsmen. There was an air of uncertainty, though panic had yet to strike the minds of Gdensk’s Vladno citizens, who were enjoying their evening wine, safe and intoxicated in the comfort of their city manors.
Perhaps it was the writing upon the walls, that first struck flame of panic within the hearts of Gdensk’s...
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
-
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
Filters
Show only:
Loading…
Joasaie was relaxing in their home in Regalia, enjoying the comfort of the living room's furnishings and the warmth from the fire. It was a rarity that they could do this lately, always being called on for the Shield or Alchemia. The Yanar's mind drifted in the silence, memories coming to the forefront of their thoughts.
A blink, and they were back in Daenshore, having turned twenty and determined to finally learn how to fight. Their mother didn't want that life for her child, but Joa's words had quieted the elder. "It's my job to protect. That's what a Yanar is. I want to protect those I cherish, no matter what pain I face. It's my choice, let me go down the path I'm willing to walk, knowing of the challenges ahead of it."
Blink. The...
"How can I sleep, when I don't have dreams? I just have nightmares.
How can it be? I still believe, something is out there."
Character: Dorian Ardelan
Holding tightly onto the saddle ropes of the horse I rode with the rest of the cavalry, I was already beginning to feel the peeling red skin of my dusted fingers. Holding onto it as if I would slip and die had I let go. Enemy was spotted rallying a mass troop from eight o'clock, marching our way. Through the mud splashing across our fields of vision, the Regalian army made their way through the field, spears being drawn, cries of battle echoing through the vast lands. Ah, Rivellia, I thought to myself. Never had I thought I'd be riding through the Old Rivergrand in a state of war...
She stood in front of a mirror, looking at herself.
She did not speak a single word that day, because she knew that today was the day:
the day that changed her life forever. The day that her parents got killed while she was only a teen.
And it was also the day that she would end her parents' killer.
Dahlia looked at herself once more, before she grabbed a small knife and brought it to her hair.
She swore that she would be a different person after she put an end to her search.
Most of her history, cut off and fallen to the ground...
The night came sooner than expected, but that didn't matter.
Dahlia through the darkest streets of the city. She knew where he was, where he lived, everything.
After all these years, I found you, she...
Read at your leisure...
Within the humid, tropical air or the Allar Embassy, the sound of webbed feet slowly padded their way down a hall. Each pair of small steps was punctuated by the dull thud of a walking staff. An Es-Allar, frog-like in appearance and perpetually looking like an upset child, slowly waddled his way down the hall. The creatures eyes were a glassy white, devoid of iris and pupil, while its skin was covered in purple Seraph runes that slowly pulsed a lazy glow. Above this strange, stubby creature swirled a cloud of butterflies, each of a elegant shape with delicate swooping wings.
As the Es-Allar, who commonly went by the name of Sselliaz Es-Vazziss, neared the end of the hall he reached a moderately sized door on...
With the hit of a wave against the wooden carcass of the ship, the blonde woman dropped what would seem like a pebble. A large, sea green orc with brutish gums walked behind the delicate woman, it’s large blacksteel mace dropping onto the deck. His arms folded as he turned, the back of his hip leaning against the railing.
“Aye Solaine, you doin’ alright?”
The orc asked in it’s harsh voice, the tone sounding like a constant growling drunkard.
“Bored. Tired. The usual.”
The woman stated as she tossed another pebble out into the deep blue and green sea.
“The Premise is all I’m doing ever since the Ministry fell apart, and Spirit knows I’d rather do more than that. It’s boring as all void, but my Griffer education and diplomacy...
Flavour.
Music
Sound Effects
A Curse Upon Tilburgh.
Short Bolshekov Tale.
"....- worshipers are cruel people and even crueler slave drivers." - A torn excerpt from a book on curses. 306AC.
Dusk had befallen Tilburgh Keep amid the dreary beginning of a summer storm. Sleepless, had Radoslav Bolshekov's nights been; without the comfort of dream, nor peace of mind. This was an odd anomaly, for The Boyar often slept easy despite his numerous ill-doings and foul deeds. Yet, at this, Rado may have found little issue: after all, his days had overflowed with duties and mandates, and what was a few hours more to work, than helpful? It was the paranoid thoughts, the mistrust, the fouler than foul thoughts, that had created so much tension...
It was late at night and Freya Claudio was extremely drunk and dangerously close to the gates of the slums. She was wandering towards them fast and unfortunately for her the guards were sleeping or didn't recognize her. She walked right in and went into the emporium. A big seven foot tall Maiar met her at the door along with his companion Azerco. They eyed the noble before the tall maiar, known as Cipactli Approached her.
"What is your name dear?" Asked Cipactli in a gentle but somehow extremely terrifying tone.
"I'm Freya -hic- Claudio" She said with a drunken smile towards Cipactli. Little did she know that was her most fatal mistake of all.
Cipactli quickly drew his mace, the drunken Freya had no time to process what was going on...
Tobie sat at his desk, writing down his thoughts and memories to share with friends and family as he so pleased. He tapped the end of the fountain pen in unison with the ticking of the grandfather clock in his room, humming lightly to himself as he thought of what he might write next. After a long while of ticking, tapping and humming, he seemed to brighten up some. His eyes shuffled through piles of paper and documents all shoved into a drawer before he pulled out three sealed envelopes. His head shook lightly as he thought of the troubles the letters might cause, though nodding and murmuring to himself. “Perhaps just, one more.” He started scribbling down on a fresh piece of parchment, seemingly holding back what happened to be tears...
As the cold wind blows outside of the brick house, Leon sat on the living room of the house looking over at a mug of ale. He extends his hand towards the handle of the mug and grabs it only to bring the mug closer to his lips and takes a swig, drinking the liquid down his throat before he puts the mug on the table.
Leon's sighs before he holds his heart with his right hand and starts to cough, He turns his attention towards his owl and gives a smile "It seems that i might not have enough time to live anymore...pity." He said as he goes for another swig and coughs again dropping the mug down to the floor. He falls to the ground and coughs more louder as he spits blood down on the floor as well.
The owl flew closer to him swooping down...
***
It had started small and unnoticed, the Claith forgetting the date and then the year. She couldn't find her shoes in the morning nor her nightgown in the evening despite them always being placed in the same spot- the General eventually placing her shoes in front of the door itself so she had to kick them aside or step into them before leaving her room. She once turned to him while brushing her small cat and asked aloud, “What is her name?” Her curiosity earnest.
Soon, though, these symptoms grew worse. She forgot where the kitchen was despite her weeks of visiting it, the General once found her favorite hair ribbon thrown away with kitchen scraps and when he asked her if it was a mistake, she stated she didn't know where she'd...
“In following The Way, and by projecting the will of Cedromar I, we truly stand as the Bastion of the Empire.
You understand this, don’t you?”
Day 1,
The First Patrol and the Gathering Storm
Eve fell upon the castle walls, the Gold rays raining upon the men as they stood to attention in the courtyard. All were mindful of their Kommandant Johann Eshevard, but none could keep their eyes off the Undercrown himself.
“If any of you become lazy enough to gain a gut, do not count on some fanciful title here to keep you in service; We have patrols to maintain. Form two columns, on Johann and I.”
Vasily Ostrovsky and Alric Aetcher took their spots immediately behind the two, and behind them their squadron. With rehearsed precision, the men...
A couple weeks before...
<><><><>
“This is exciting, I can’t believe we are doing this.”
“Will you stay quiet, I don’t exactly need anyone knowing we are here.”
“Right right! Stealthy! Stealthy!”
“You aren’t exactly being stealthy.”
Saen glanced over his shoulder tiredly at the bouncing and excited Isldar who trotted along behind him. His quiet and hushed scowling seemingly getting him nowhere. Though she was actually quite graceful on her feet, not making too much noise besides the verbal communication that she seemed to need to keep herself going. Her boots only ever once or twice making a soft pat on the ground as the Duo moved along the dirt filled streets. As the squeezed between and along houses on their forever seeming search...
“She had tricked him. She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world, and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back, she had left him stranded there–like an astronaut wandering about on the moon. Alone.”
― Katherine Paterson, Bridge to Terabithia
The faint creaking of the old wooden floorboards of the inn were the only sound that night as the small chi lady had come back from her excursions that day but her usual expression wasn’t present. A sad frown had been resting on her lips as she thought over what happened that day, a pain in her heart from the words she was told.
You were abandoned? How horrible of a daughter were you? Was the only thing that hammered away at her insides at the...
Dreams are Forged from Dwarven Steel
The smell of soot filled her nose, of her father's sweet honeymead breath, of the burbling cookpot. Familiar sensations just out of reach. The dwarf's green eyes brightened with mischievous mirth as she skidded across the dirt roads. Faster. Faster! Each thud made her heart race as she struggled to keep up with her brothers.
"Bryndle, you can't catch me!" Her beloved, golden-haired little brother taunted. Brynhild's legs burned as she desperately tried to keep pace. Excitement coiled in her stomach and sent spurts of fleeting energy to her stout legs. Her long, strawberry ginger hair whipped behind her, intricate braids flapping like a bird’s eager wings at the first signs of spring. Past the...
Filtered sunlight was the first thing the Qadir noticed when her eyes fluttered open. She shifted a moment under the thin blankets of the bed, noting that the majority had slipped off and onto the floor besides her, startling her though as she didn’t realize for a moment where she was. Lifting slowly, the girl took in the surroundings around her, brows furrowed in confusion until she took the time to glance towards her right where she caught sight of the beloved, yet unexpected slumbering figure of Aedarhon. Her flinch of surprise must have awoken the boy, who grumbled in displeasure at his own coming to and slowly opened his own eyes to stare up at Azra, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed besides him rather than curled up...
Heritage of Székeshy
The Curse
Moisture gathers within small pools oddly oozing into one another in a less than futile attempt of becoming whole. Murky crimson and atramentous black bleed into putrid, cold roses forming across broken tethers and shattered floors around a husk decorated with verdant greens and cerulean blues. Curtains of dim starlight caress its lifeless cheeks, nightly critters sing a stern, yet calming lullaby. Cyclopean walls observe with a stoic countenance, and a singular burning heart clings to a rope descending from dark heavens to faintly lit hell.
Days, hours, minutes, seconds, moments and several lifetimes pass as emerald irises peer whilst sorrow trickles down into hell’s depths. Ruin… has come, the cycle...
She won't rest until she get's what she wants...
No matter the cost, she will get her revenge...
,
Valiane woke up in her bed from a strange, green dream, feeling exhausted.
She shook her head lightly and moved her body carefully. Nothing really hurt, except her back a little.
She moved to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror. She looked like a mess and decided to take a shower.
In the living room, she sat down on the couch. There was something nagging in the back of her head but she couldn't put her finger on it. Hoping she would eventually remember it later, she decided to make herself ready before she went outside.
In her bathroom, she checked everything. She noticed something strange.
Her sword didn't glow as soon as she...
┏━━━━━━༒━━━━━━┓
Song (To be added)
┗━━━━━━༒━━━━━━┛
It was a long walk down, a heart-rending one too.
His eyes scoured the very walls that kept the last breaths of someone he had held close to him. They were dark and left, as if the fade of the bricks matched those who had built it’s very grounds. The stairs and halls were dimly lit, to be expected from such a deep point of the night. His boots echoed as he descended into the room. He had dipped his head downward, his dark but curly locks falling around his worn face. His unkempt hair tucked back, along with his semi shaved beard a reminder that he did not sleep as well as he had once. His ever slightly glowing silver eyes made their way around the room in agony, the bile in his throat...
Music
Aronne had no reason in particular for wandering through the park that evening. It was simply a perfect springtime night, from how the setting sun caught the edges of leaves in spiraling orange patterns, the way the light reflected in glistening beams across the surface of the pond, and how the light breeze carried the heat away, bringing his worries along with it. He knew this almost surreal display of color would make an incredible painting, as he etched the details into his mind, but the process was interrupted by an odd noise on the path behind him. Aronne moved his head back, tracking immediately to the source of the sound, and his eyes settled on something truly horrible. Some form of Allar, he recognized easily, but its...
The trees rushed past her as she ran along the dirt path, her boots kicking up dust. Tree branches whipped out, scratching at her face and shoulders. She wasn’t completely sure what she was running from or running towards. All she knew, within her head was the singular phrase of: Keep going.
Finally, the woods opened up into a wide clearing of the view of a lake. Panting, she scrambled forth, dropping to her knees before the water’s edge. Cupping her hands together, she dipped them into the water and splashed her face gently.
Her head turned sharply at the sound of splashing water and obvious movement. Moving towards her was a pearly colored swan, head tilted downwards a tad as it glided towards her. The bird let out a loud and...
"But dear, sweet, secondborn,
Let me tell you this.
The truth is, before you were born,
I doubted the infinity of love
And yet
The moment they placed you in my arms,
Cocooned in blankets,
With your button nose and scrunched up lips,
Eyes firmly shut and so new to this world,
It's as if I grew a whole new heart
Just for you."
-Rasha Rushdy
Evening sunshine came spilling in through the open window of the sitting room that occupied the quarters of Juliette and Randulf Howlester. The room at the moment, though, only held the former, who lounged peacefully on the settee with a thick quilt pulled around her and a small bundle of blankets held carefully in her arms. The woman’s gaze had not lifted from the bundle for many minutes, taking in...
Mother Lisa lay in bed next to her newborn twins, tired from the long night before, rain beating down on her windows heavily. She had just decided their names, Cora and Gabriel, when she heard the battles and uproar nearby, in the streets of the Azure Keep, grabbing up her children and wrapping them, and herself up, they waddled closer to where the sound had been coming from outside in the terrible rain. There they stood...those Inquisition fellows, outside the Azure Keep, fighting with all the aberrations that had been locked up and had freed themselves, and grabbing up any Azure people they could as well.
Lisa, quickly trying to remain hidden, only lay around the corner, allowing them to fight it out, then sprinting back home...
Augusta neared Howlester Castle. A looming sadness followed her as she reflected upon her own life and all of her experiences that led her to become the woman she was now. She was going to see her mother and packed for such. Keeping a small pendant to remind her of who she belonged to now. Rain poured from the sky, forming small puddles in her path as she wandered out of her bags.
She then loaded into the carriage, staring up towards a window of the castle, to see a shadowy figure peer down at her. Before she could react, the figure moved away from the window, out of her sight. She had not told anyone that she was in fact leaving, time or date. She had maybe only brought it up, so she had no doubt it was just someone curious about her...
I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honor, and cherish you, In all times, In all places.
“Would you stop fidgeting? Spirit, Darcie, I never thought you to be nervous.” Raina nudged her cousin’s shoulder and smiled at her in the mirror.
Darcie puffed out a breath, blowing one of the few strands of hair that had been left out of her updo. Her fingers dropping away from the sashes that were draped across her body. One of purple and one of deep navy blue.
“It’s less that I’m nervous… But more…”
“Fearful?” Julie provided from where she lounged upon the loveseat, cocking an eyebrow.
“I suppose that’s one way to explain it.” She replied, clasped her hands together behind her back, turning her eyes, once more, toward the...
It was late at night, Sif Jormungandr had been disowned by her son on suspicions that she had
been dating another man that wasn't Ullr's father. Sif was Ullr Jormungandr's mother. She had been a good mother to them until that day. now instead of sleeping in a cozy bed she was sleeping on a bench in the slums.
Warning! This part will have some gruesome content.
Ichaca Grahala had been there when Ullr had confronted his mother and decided that Sif was too much of a nuisance to be around the baby Frigg Jormungandr was expecting. Ichaca was the baby's bodyguard after he lost a bet to Ullr. He approached the sleeping woman and shoved his trident down deep into her neck before brutally ripping it out again. He had no mercy.
Ichaca had...
Benjamin Journey April 1st 306 A.C.
The outstanding bard Benjamin Journey walked his road of the Hightower for the last time, as he was called down to the offices by superior officers. He walked down the velvet carpet of the empire, little did he know this would be his last journey. He entered the offices, standing within would be the officers of Hightower, Albus and Jean du Pont, Wyland aep Latsen, and a straggling citizen of Juneya Perrot.
Benjamin strode into the offices.
He had felt he knew what this was, as Albus du Pont sat in the desk, crossbow ready at the fire sitting upon the mans lap. Wyland strode to take a post at the door, bowing his head ever so slightly. No one said anything, quite eerie Ben could only think as he...
The tension had run rampant throughout the camp. From the smithies repairing armor to the chefs preparing the night’s meal, everyone felt the low tremor of anticipation amongst the troops. Would they have to fight? Would the rebels somehow sneak past the outer defenses and launch an attack? Would they consider peace?
Jamie studied the map before him, secluded behind the coal black screens of the command tent. The Rosendahl's right thumb and forefinger gently rubbed his chin as he drew lines and symbols with his mind, visualizing the troop movements across Narlas. A soft rustle interrupted the Rosendahl's silent vigil.
“Everything alright, sir?”
As per usual, Mortibus was alert and at the ready, his crimson and navy surcoat neat and...
-
Meet me at dawn, we begin tomorrow.
-
Dancing had always come naturally to Mu. The subtle shake of the hips, taking advantage of the eyes and gracefully controlling them with every move you can muster. It was thrilling to Mu, powerful and graceful. Of course, though, Mu learned about the dainty art in a mud-ridden Circus. To her crew, it was showy and unrefined. It took Mu’s certain learned tastes to reign in the talent and glorify the group as a whole. She took to the trapeze, flying and soaring through the air as the routine movements comforted her. Her hair wasn’t a ratty mess then, oh no. It was twisted and woven into a crown that ordained her hair like royalty, not a hair out of place. Nevertheless, dancing on the ground or in...
It started when Kort was called over by a man—Hengest Harhold. He was sitting at the bar, ordering a drink, when he heard a voice behind him. He slowly turned to face the one calling for him before taking a small step back as he realized who it was—Human royalty quite enjoyed their colors.
“You, greenskin.” He demanded. Kort slowly walked over, nervous at being beckoned by someone of such obvious stature, his mind immediately going back to when he was banished from his tribe.
“Y-yes?” He asked of Harhold.
“How's your fighting?” Harhold asked him, a slight smile tilting the edges of his mouth upwards as he asked this question.
“I... Am good.” Kort replied slowly, using his very limited knowledge of Common to respond, hoping it...
”Mimir can we please talk about this!?” Ullr asked, a man and Url were standing face to face with each other from across the table. The url was holding an axe and it was likely that people outside the house to hear them and wonder what the was going on. In fact it was just Ullr and Mimir Jormungandr fighting again, they were brothers so this was quite common.
“I don’t know Ullr, did we talk when you stole the patriarchy from me?” Mimir asked. His brother rolled his eyes in return. When Mimir saw this he brought the axe down on the middle of the table, shattering it and send half of it to the other side of the room. Ullr let out a small yelp and looked to Stig and Frigg for help, they just smirked at him.
“That was twenty years ago...
(warning: does contain adult themes and suggesitve mental health issues. If you’re not comfortable with anything like that, please don't read!)
The d'Soleil residence had settled for the night, Rosalia lay sleeping, as did the hounds, to be expected at such an hour. The leisure however, was not for Lazaruz; his eyes had hardly shut since the day he had received his lashings; The day he was told of the abortion. He needed to see Eve, he needed to make amends..
The rain hit down against Lazaruz' blood stained coat as he made his way out his home and into the storm that was gathering, fighting through the wind, the pain, and the voices in his head.
"What's your plan, then, big shot?" this voice was smooth, accusing...
As the moon shines down towards the land beneath it, Leon down the steps of the d'vaud country estate. He thought about what Solaine has told him, to let his past go and start a new family. He looks down on the steps before he looks towards the man with the carriage
"Ready to leave Lord Claudio?" The man ask Leon with a polite tone.
Leon Looked up towards the man giving a nod "We Shall but a new destination, Head back to the city and wait for me, I wish to grab something before i head elsewhere."
The man nodded at Leon's request and gestures his hand towards the open door, Leon looks at the door and starts marching towards it before he gets in and sits down closing the door. As the carriage started to march Leon looked out the...
After Mimir had turned into the monster he saw himself as, he was disgusted. The day after he turned, he had run out of the house into the night's snow, fleeing the confusion and conflict that both he himself and his family held for the situation.
As if subconsciously doing it, he reached the area of the woods where the Oorl Worm had attacked him, and Mimir grabbed at his head in panic, only finding the monster-like head. It was uncommon for newly formed Url to feel this way, but he didn't know that. All he knew was that he was a beast, a Gorr, and he was no longer who he thought he was. Everyone he loved would treat him differently, since he was no longer Ailor, no longer blessed.
There was a war going on inside his head. Mimir let...
A typical day for the Ch'ien-Ji, his name Hyun-Joo Lee, only 62; his health degrading slowly as years past as his fingers twitched along the bookshelves in front of him. His surroundings were vague and slum-quality; he was obviously a slum-dweller that had the ambition to bring his family and name into prevalence although failing because of lack of self-confidence and anxiety.
"T-The memories of the past, h-how can one n-not forget?"
His mutters escaped through his breath and throughout the dry and cold atmosphere; his lisp seeming to be the only sound noticeable by the people around him, although no one was; by himself and in his cheaply made house, appearing to struggle to stand as gravity tugged its mossy layers.
His fingers...
-
I'd like to dedicate this story to everyone who has ever roleplayed with Emilia Reyes, who has ever had a smile or a tense moment, for those who have been with her for better and worse. She is still my favorite character to write for. Thank you, everyone, for everyone who remembers her.
Fair warning, there will be slight gore. Tread carefully.
-
Chains clinked viciously together as Emilia writhed in place, confined in a cell that seemed to be perpetually closing in on her. Screams echoed and boomed throughout the chamber, though whether it was hers or the other prisoners escaped her twisted mind. She had become her own prisoner. What was real to her could be entirely fake. Had she imagined everything that had happened to her? Where...
Mood
The gentle splashing of water against the Hull stirred the male awake. The storm had come and gone, the harsh sound of waves crashing into the wood gone, the swaying, as though drunken or dizzy, gone. The boat hadn't sunk, and the male hadn't stirred. He'd lay in a peaceful slumber, though he had been rolled around on the floor by the harsh movements of the waves and of the boat. He'd been sound asleep. Until now.
One eye cracks open, him taking in the sight of the barrels and crates, some lids open. An apple is laid by his hand. With a lazy yawn, he pushes himself up, snatching the apple up and taking a bite, his other hand rubbing his eyes. He casts a critical eye around where he had slept, groaning as he stretches. Mental...
You didn't know what came over you but you had to leave as soon as you could, the urge to escape was in your bones and you couldn't shake it off. You wished it didn't have to be like this but at this point, you realized the longer you stuck around the worse you'll get. So you packed your things, kissed your fiance goodbye, and took the first boat to Daendroc.
It was fortunate your brother gave you a couple pointers and a general idea of where your mother could be. Tracking her down won't be easy by any means but you had a lead. You held onto the hope she'll return for as long as you could, but it was clear to you now that hoping wasn't going to cut it.
The sea stretches out before you and you take a deep breath. The smell of brine...