Three days. Three days in captivity, shackled to a wall and used as a vampires chew toy. Three days without proper food besides on this day. Three days with no water before the fourth day, the day she had gotten free. After the few intense days, lack of proper food, water and sleep in those days, the slizzar was finally at peace. Having taken a chance and getting away with it, she had managed to get out of her captors clutches. However that had consequences as she limped her way home and the faint sound of the screaming male, Jochund. As the sound blanked out as she stumbled along through the slums, reminiscing. She did what she had to, to get out of there even kicking someone where she probably shouldn't have but she had made it out...
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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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There it - she? he?? - lay, leaving Côme to wonder to himself the gender of the Ceardian Bloodhound as he carefully tiptoed around the sleeping beast. He was thankful for the wall shaking thunder, as it only made his task easier. It wasn’t his first time sneaking out of his sleeping quarters and in truth, probably wouldn’t be his last. It was only in the hours of darkness could the Viridian in training truly explore the castle; and himself. For under the light of day and ever watchful eyes of his teachers there was no time to express the confusing thoughts and emotions that invaded his mind. He glanced to his right hand hand where a band of silver and gem of deep azure was wrapped around his finger. Just looking at the ring brought...
Steel as icy cold as the northern winds of Jorrhild enwrapped his hands, the spiked gauntlets making not a noise as he flexed his fingers. The metal moved with unnatural ease, almost as if his skin was bare. He looked out through the slits of the helmet atop his head and saw only a sliver of his surroundings, and the fraction of what he saw was a living nightmare. All around him was ash and flame, mountains spilling torrents of lava while a storm of soot and fire rained down upon the barren world.
The other boy went deaf from the explosion and Côme fell into a coma. On the Ombre’s records, he was honorably discharged from service for medical reasons; as it was believed the other boy had prepared a bomb of sorts to kill Côme but it had...
“Darcie this isn’t right.”
“HUSH! I’m working. Leave me be.”
“As much as I enjoy watching you working with such clear pleasure, you’re going to work yourself to death. Think of those who love and care for you… What of Nyth? What of the Wodenstaffs themselves, they need you! And what of Wulfram…? Of…”
“DON’T. DON’T YOU DARE.”
Darcie snapped, her head twisting to stare at the woman seated upon the edge of her desk.
Marianne tilted her head slightly and gazed at her younger sister. Deeper forest green eyes meeting a pair of ocean blue eyes. She let out a breath of air and drew closer to her younger sister, placing her hands upon her shoulders.
“This won’t solve anything. This won’t make matters easier or go away, you know this.”...
The boots of a certain female mutt would make a revolting squelching noise against the mud. Rain hammered down on the poor woman as she navigated the slums cluttered street, eventually reaching her destination… The house was large, containing four stories, sitting in the center of the slum. Many windows surrounded the walls and roof of the building, alas all bordered up, taking the appearance of an abandoned manor of sorts. The woman lowered a hand, retrieving a copper key her brother granted her. The mutt took a moment, gazing down at the key that was not pointed towards the lock… A flashback of the previous events that had taken place in this very building struck her… ‘What am I going to find?... Is he going to do it again?... Is he...
As the rain lightly tapped against the window, near where the young noblesse sat. She’d rest her head against the see through glass, the first time she had taken a break in who knows how long. She couldn’t remember when she got proper sleep even due to her hard working and oncoming stress she felt close in surround her. As she closed her eyes, the exhaustion creeping up on her she’d let her head lull forward and smack into the window causing her to jolt up before a voice cut through the silence.
“...You doin’ alrigh’?”Her husband would inquire, raising a brow before moving forward towards her as she gave a tired smile to him.
“Oui, I am fine. Just...tired dear.”
“Then you should rest.”
“But I still--”
“Bu’...
There were many things peculiar about Gideon Hackett, as all knew and were willing to tell. What no one ever mentioned, was the drumming. ‘t-tap, t-tap, t-tap’ It followed him everywhere, thudding and thumping like mad. It filled his every hour from dawn to dusk like a heavenly, or hellish, drumbeat. It always was a very long time before he realized that the sound was coming from him when he looked down at his own frenzied fingers. The agonizing, tormented, never-ending rat-a-tat was both his grace, and his curse.
He sat there, alone, slumped over his desk, cold biting at his bare back. It was like an old comrade, a fitting motif for his life, and so he cared of it not. Gideon simply sat there, staring at the pieces of the marble...
It was cold, and he felt as though he was floating through darkness, drifting quietly along through a world of empty sounds and motions. It must have been the Void, with how wrong it felt. The feeble Shendar couldn't help but note the irony of his position, with what little shreds of consciousness remained. His hatred of the Void seemed not to be enough to save him from It. But no, something was wrong here-- Cecil was not dead yet, had only slipped into unconsciousness from...From what?
The Shendar's eyelids fluttered, opening ever-so-slightly, the quiet din of the world calling him fully awake as some greater motion shook him. He was being lifted, his limp form cradled in the arms of someone as they staggered down a flight of stairs...
Well. I can't say that any of this mess was part of my original plan, but it's all working out so beautifully I can't complain.
— Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Girl Genius
The evening was as normal as it usually was, or so Suri thought as she made her normal rounds throughout the town and poking her nose into places. As she held her cloak above her head as the rain poured down she made her way into her home, however the house was too still for her liking. Normally, even into the dead of night it’d have some sort of chatter so this set the snake on edge before a scent caught her nose. The faint sound of giggling upstairs caught her off guard as well as the sound of Sera speaking.
The slizzar began to make her way up the stairs cautiously...
How would you feel up you woke up having no recollection of the night before? Confused, right? Well, how would you feel if you woke up next to someone you didn’t know with no recollection of the night before? This was the case for poor, unfortunate Lemoran, who had downed about six two many bottles of ale, with no drinking experience whatsoever prior to this. Today, we, @Faunfire and @Emo_Bunny , bestow unto you, the most eventful night of the Mayara’s life thus far. Too bad he can’t remember it. The next morning, however, is one he would surely never forget...
The night before was a night of fierce passion and… Sword fights? A brunette nelfin, accompanied by a ginger ailor clad in red were sparring relentlessly with two heavy...
The curious few who looked up through the top windows of the Peirgarten townhouse would for days see the same chestnut brown hair shielding the face of a figure. The figure didn’t seem to move an inch, not for days. To those inside the townhouse this figure was known to be Kimmie Bigge, a woman engaged to one of the family members who was currently staying at their place due to family issues. When they checked in on her she didn’t seem to respond. She was still breathing and blinking, but she refused to eat, speak, or sleep. Her gaze remained fixed on the wall, the life seemingly drained from her usually cheery bright blue eyes.
Kimmie’s brain repeated the same memories and thoughts over and over again for what felt like years. She...
The water crashed and slammed against the boat. Finally, it was home. Finally she was home. Though, was this city truly home anymore? That was the question that had kept her awake for most of the evenings on the voyage home. Alongside the ghost pains and shiftings of her now non-existent left eye, the question had kept her up.
Her boots made contact with the wood of the dock and gathering her bag from the cargo, the large Avanthar woman moved away, going to join the crowded streets.
Seraphina kept her head down as she shouldered her way through the crowds, not at all caring who she bumped into or even knocked over. Her fingers were tight upon the strap of her bag as she made her way deeper into the city.
It was a decent walk from...
She was a defiant little girl who thought she could rule the world. With every step she took since the age of fifteen and her arrival into the grandest city in the Regalian Empire, her head had been held higher than she ever earned to. She strode with a step that was undeserved, that came with the pampered life of being raised by a jewel covered hand. Her hands were free from blood, they were pale and uncalloused for she had yet to drive her nails into the dirt to fight her way to the top.
So she appeared to those that glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. The young Ithanian that demanded respect when it all felt undeserved: but why was it?
At the age of fifteen, a defiant little girl entered Regalia, free from the hawk-eye...
Rage. A familiar emotion to the Folelsa practitioner, but one he rarely ever felt himself - at least with such intensity. His honor and name had been besmirched, dragged through the mud, by an Ithanian no less! And then there was that nobody wearing the purple with the stupid smirk... The Ombre's hand clenched into a fist as he remembered that ugly smug. There were others there too. A Velheimer, or half Daen as she insisted, the Grand Commissioner and... That girl. Thinking of that rabble latching onto him just fueled his rage even more. He stumbled away from the Throng towards the Golden Willow, returning for yet another drink. The Ser knight had never been a heavy drinker but now, at this low he found himself, comfort could easily be...
The Silver Bear of Opper Calem
Prologue:
"The tougher d'Vaud" is how I introduced myself to him, as we firmly shook hands in the Golden Willow Regalian Tavern, alongside his radiant wife. What begun as a simple invitation to the Open Forum would suspiciously strike a spark, like those to light the lithe fuse found on a firework, resulting in a similar explosion of entirely unexpected events. I do not claim that I was neither the flint nor steel that set the spark, for I was, but I was not the singular stone to set the firework alight. So kindly allow me to share with you my version of events, which led to the regular duel between the Lord Consul Hengest "The Hound" Harhold and myself, Benedictus "The Silver Bear" d'Vaud.
One...
Haunting Pasts, Burning Futures
The burning sensation as the whiskey was poured into the tall plants mouth was all that they could feel at this moment. And the faint stinging sensation of the burning plant like skin on their upper arm. They could feel themselves shake with every movement as they sat on the ground before the sound of papers rustling.
Nyth’s gaze shot to Darcie, who had been napping away on her desk prior to the plant silently entering the room and drinking themselves to the void with the whiskey bottle sitting next to them on the floor. The noblesse would blink away her exhaustion, yawning before noticing the plant and nearly falling out of her chair in surprise but caught herself. She’d notice the shaking form of the...
'Time is a weird thing. You blink, and several years have passed by while your eyes were closed. It slips through your fingers before you can try and catch it. Appreciate the time you have with your loved ones, and let them know just how much you care for them while you still have those moments with them.'
Aoibhin let out a sigh as she rose to her haunches. Below her was her beloved mother, who had become part of the earth twenty years ago. Leaning down, she kissed the top of the headstone and moved over to her violin, pulling the delicate instrument out of its casing. Sitting in front of the grave, she placed the violin under her chest, and drew the bow across the strings, starting to warm up. The music echoed through the open fields...
Learning from the Past
Shrouded by darkness, a group of five silently traversed the countryside, the rain that cascaded from the skies above leaving the ground soft, and slippery. They were lead by one slightly taller individual, who, like their comrades, sported a thick gambeson and was clad in leather armor. They appeared to take charge, though only communicated with her comrades through subtle hand gestures and the occasional whisper. However, none of the forms slipped, their shadowy visages giving off an eerie sense about the night. The group were one with the night as the night was one with them.
The dark smoke that rose from the nearby camp melded with the pitch black atmosphere, being in sight of only the most perceptive of...
Scratch, scratch.
Her pencil moved quickly across the pages. A soft mumble escaped her as she erased a few of the words she had written down only to replace them not a moment after. Her written words were a jumble of Common and D’Ithanie, a confusion to an onlooker.
Except for the occasional mumble from the woman, the entrance hall was silent and calm. The candles over head flicked and shifted as a gentle spring breeze came in through an open window. The silence was broken by the the door swinging open and someone entering.
Nyth glanced over at Darcie who sat vigil at her desk. Two movers, having been left to handle the final touch-ups by Leonzio, ducked around the plant fellow as the Yanar drew closer to the desk the woman sat...
"Have you given up then, is that it? You have abandoned
me in my time of need, broken my faith all to spite me?
I renounce my faith to you, Spirit of Union."
Many would notice a change in Tobie Peirgarten in the days to come, his face was slimmer and his eyes weary after his long and troublesome experience with hallucinations and otherwise unworldly affairs. His eyes had grown a darker shade of green than before, much grayer and without their usual twinkle. The way he acted was almost as if he'd become a more troublesome individual and had been openly challenging people to duels within the Fang and Throng fighting pit in the Regalian Park. He seemed to stop in order to talk to the Arken Generals that traipsed through the city and...
"Is this all you see, dear Spirit? The eternal blackness that rests upon each of our souls?"
Throughout our lives we create what is known as a personality. It is created from the things we witness and through the things we do and can never be lost, but remember. That which is forged with such ease, can be broken just as easily.
The blackness closed in on the long haired blonde as swiftly as a blade may cut through air, flames from the candle licked the bleak and cold backdrop that surrounded the mindless man whom sat in the middle of the cell. He was writing, all the while with tears falling down his face. His eyes were wide with terror and upon a final glance, it appeared the flooring that was lit by the candle was a deep red...
He knew he messed up. he didn't know how, but as he left for the slums from the clinic, there was a voice of regret, haunting his thoughts. It came often, like am an delivering milk, or maybe the mail. Though, he never figured out how to get it out of his head, much like the horrible silence he found within the noisy main-street. He could hear himself breathe, half-expecting a frozen breath to come out and whisk him of the rest of his lungs with. As if it'd comfort him, the feeling of strangulation, suffocating, seemed so more much comforting than his hoarse, drying throat. Alistair entered back-alley to back-alley, he knew where he was going, but his thoughts drowned out his sense of direction. The road ahead seemed to blur with his...
"Folge deinem Pfad, selbst wenn er mit Dornen bestückt ist. A lesson from my ancestors to me, words I believe in. Nobody will ever take that from me!" - Brendan Heinrich, 303AC, The Battle of The Curag Fields.
Screams echoed throughout the field about him, the mist covered everything around him and for once, he was afraid. The loneliness of war had befallen him, told to stand by his brothers, only a man so detached could refuse. Flames filled the air as mages clashed with what, in his mind were impossible beings. His eyes scowered the battlefield for any sign of help, though none came at his time of need.
With his blade drawn, such a large blade that even an orc would be brought up on the topic of 'compensating'. He brought it...
Tracing the rim of his mug with an index finger, Jamie continued to stare at the journal before him, its pages clogged with scratches and stains and thoughts and notions and ideas. It was a product of his brief bout of flu; something to keep the boredom at bay, to keep his mind awake at times when he would otherwise venture to D’Hellegum and take inventory for the evening.
What had once been a puddle of ink began to evolve and transform, shedding any extraneous material and leaving just a few bold sentences glaring back at its author.
The Rosendahl reached for his quill, his face creased with determination. Flipping the journal to a fresh page, Jamie began to scribble furiously. Throughout his mad sketching, his subconscious kept...
The latest hours of the night had crept upon Alexander once again, and there he was, staring at the wooden ceiling of his house, wide awake as he had often found himself as of recent. The recent events that had transpired had seemed to have gotten under his skin in more ways than he would like to admit, Alexander slowly closed his eyes, yet no sleep came, only a memory, one from the recent Imperial Audience.
There he stood, leaning on a railing, next to him stood very interesting Brown haired women "Can you stand up to them?" She asked in her usual tone "The Arken I mean, will you be able to stand up to them when the time comes?" He didn't have an answer then, at least, not an honest one, because the truth was hard to swallow. "I...
Avynn flipped through another page in the book she was studying. Her eyes darting slowly over the pages. Taking in everything that she could. Once in a while, her eyes darted back to reread something or look at a picture. She’d often shift to move her body to the motion the book gave. Around the table where scattered books of what she had dedicated herself to before and now newly. She for once felt dedicated to something again, she just had to prove herself. She just had to. She had failed Leonzio, the first man she’d ever looked for approval in, wanting him to be proud of who she was. She had failed Sigurna, the person who had given her everything, who had been her friend through thick and thin. Failed Alexander, the boy who reminded...
As the moon shines under the rainy night in Regalia. A woman was walking down the path way back to her house. As she was walking the wind blew more and more dangerous, like a roar from a dragon. The woman would keep walking into an Alley way as a shortcut but then She stopped as a figure was standing in front of her.
"Hello, Who are you? Are you lost?!" The woman yelled at the figure. She moves in closer to the figure to look at him. The figure stood there in silence as he breathes heavily. The woman would move in a bit more closer, her heart is racing with fear and anxiety but she still moves in closer "Sir, are you deaf?! answer me!" The woman yelled at the figure. The rain pours under both of them, after a couple of...
((This is a collab between @SpoopMelon and I about the Cantaine siblings when they were children! I wrote for Agustin and spoop wrote for Micaela.))
It was a peaceful day at the Cantaine estate and out the door to the garden walked a young girl with brown hair and blue eyes. She walked extremely carefully around the various plants in the garden as she made her way to her brother’s greenhouse. The beads in the girl’s hair clicked against each other as she walked along the pathways. Sometimes she’d stop at a certain plant to stare at it for a moment before continuing on with a smile every now and then she’d let out a small kitten-like sneeze and rub her itchy eyes. The girl was allergic to some of the plants in the garden, which kept her...
The snow fluttered peacefully over the city, ironic for the current settling of excitement that buzzed through the air. Across the other side of the gate, someone was shouting encouragements to the Slumdwellers, yet outside the Slums, in the army of guardsmen and women, there was not much speech for long moments, simply people muttering to their own men and occasionally giving their armour a nervous readjustment- at least that was what the young Vigilant captain was doing.
Juliette gazed about with an expression of excitement and anxiety- she didn't plan to chicken out of the small civil war that was about to occur, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous. The troop of guards split to either side of the walk following the shout of...
As the wind blow and the seas roar on the docks of Regalia, Leon stands there looking at the scenery.
He stood there in silence, thinking of all the things that has happen when he got to Regalia, The seas roar closer to the docks and the wind Blew larger across his face.
"All aboard the ship, Sailing to Warrenord!!" The captain yelled. Leon heard the man yelled and he walks towards him holding his crate. Leon showed the man his ticket and proceeds to walk into the ship. At last the ship sailed and Leon looks at Regalia for one last time
A couple of hours later, The night falls. The strong gust of wind blew at the ship but it is maintaining it balance across the dangerous Seas. At this point...
Her boots were the first to go, the trickiest thing to remove with only one functioning arm. The next was the sling itself, dropped onto the vanity stool as Darcie stepped in front of the mirror.
A bruise was beginning to form on the side of her head where the Northerner had hit her. It was simply another injury to add to her ever growing list. Letting out a sigh, she leaned closer, staring into her own eyes.
“Well old girl. It seems you’re back on top again. A could have been Norvakt, a would be Krier. From Vauclain to Dubois and now…” She took in a breath and spoke the next few words as a smile appeared on her face.
“A Wodenstaff. Darcie Wodenstaff. I like the ring to it. I truly like it. It fits.” Darcie’s smile would widen and...
Blood Washes Over Your Demons
It was a crisp afternoon on the date of December 31st, 305 A.C. guardsmen Alec Dondario had been going through his normal patrol after declining to drink earlier in the night.
He’d receive a message from a guy, it was proclaimed to be urgent. Was at the Bridge connecting to the Crown Isle. He rushed himself over.
Upon arrival, the Bloodcast Knight saw a girl seated, over the guardrail legs fully extended. There was another woman, Roesia Alaire at the foot laying down “Now I don’t want to push you but I have to..” Alec clanked over quickly. “Oi!, there’s a fockin’ guardrail for a damned reason!” the girl froze up from pushing Roesia off the bridge. “Help” cried the Roesia. He promptly...
Waves washed gently onto the shore, the waters mellow at this early hour. The orange rays from the sun peaking over the horizon and casting sharp beams onto the glass surface. A gentle giggle from a toddler broke the silence of the early air. Sitting on the shore were two figures, one small and the other much larger, familiar shapes to this coast.
Leonzio sat in the sand with his son Gabriele, the child giggling up a storm as a stray crab washed on shore and manage to get stuck on its back. The older Dressolini smiled, letting out few chuckles of his own before flipping the crustacean over and watching it flee back into the depths of the unknown. The young boy managed to catch his breath just as his father scooped him up into his lap...
She couldn’t wait. She had to venture forth into the wilderness, warnings be damned. At least she had waited until the sun had risen, enough that she could see clearly. The past few weeks had been a trial for her. With event after event after event, Darcie was growing tired. Exhausted even. Nothing, though, would stop her from having her morning ride.
It had been something she had started doing the moment she arrived in Regalia those many years ago. Insisting she use her allowance to purchase the needed stall to house her beloved steed and the other expenses that came with him. He was a big brute of a creature, mostly brown with white patches upon his flank and around one ear. A creature more accostumed to someone of a more larger and...
Benjamin peered at the pamphlet in his hands, giving it a sudden crumble as he flashed his bright, Jade eyes up, flickering them with a hidden irritation.
He was working overtime now, an unrelenting pile of assignments continuously handed out to him. With a large chunk of the Violet order seemingly to be “Possessed,” whatever the hell that meant, he began to notice a great many of spots opening free, and a large lack of Violets at post. This is what burdened him with so much work.
One such job was babysitting. He was assigned the annoying task of watching over Eske Ulfmaerr and Urijah Jameson while they performed various forms of labor for the city.
“Velheimers...” he muttered as he watched them shoveling snow.
The two seemed to...
The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive.. Yet, this evening in particular; it had a certain feeling of livelihood to it..
A pair of boots would stumble through the grassy mess surrounding them, a scarlett cape following suite soon to find themselves at the entrance to this house, followed by a prompt knock... No answer.
"Mère."
Still, no answer..
With this, a firm kick was offered to the door by the visitor, the fragile ebony door flying open.
The scarce floor boards of the house creaked as stepped on; making their way up the thin staircase,
the figure would stop in their tracks.
"Mère" , a knock was now provided to the smaller secondary door, which would be followed by a push.
The final room that...
November 25th , 305 AC
Lazaruz breathed in on the fresh Ithanian air surrounding him..
There was no better place to teach his loyal companion than the
vast landscapes he'd been cheerished by, as a child.
" 'Ey, Sigrun! Get back over 'ere!~" , the pup would respond by playfully dashing between the surrounding greenery.. As a snowpaw Felicis, their fur contrasted harshly to the pure green nearby.
It'd been a couple of hours treking through the countryside from La Portée du Paradis that the pair had found themselves immersed by the great forest that surrounded them.
Lazaruz planted himself at the bottom of a nearby tree, opening his satchel to retrieve the sandwhiches he'd made himself before the voyage. The man had grown...
Her hands were outstretched.
That was all that mattered. That she would reach him on time, that she would prevent him from any suffering. Her fingers curled around air, having just missed her target. A desperate cry of anguish leaped from her throat, her feet stuck in place as she was unable to reach out anymore but she tried, with all her might did she try. She felt as if she was being torn in half, every nerve in her body felt as if it was being split apart as she managed to gain an inch. She hated this dream because that was all that this was, a dream. A sick and twisted one but a dream nonetheless. And yet.. she couldn’t help herself but play right along with it, every time reaching out for his hand and every time failing to grasp...
When I was a girl, I never had the chance to play with dolls. I never was told I was to marry a baron's son, nor even told I was to be a musician or to be sent to a medical school. Being the eldest child meant there were expectation of me. Expectation that were provided because of my birth, as a girl. Father wanted a male for his first born, yet he had me. In time he had my brother, but my fate was already sealed.
For generations my family had made enemies with those more powerful than us. My father's personal guard was omnipresent. At times I viewed them as the uncles and brothers I never had, nor would have. Not until my brother at the very least. And when the young Wulfram was born, he needed a protector. He was provided such from...