The candlelight shivered and flicked as she made her way slowly up the stairs. The house simply grew in more a state or ruin with each room she entered. Claw marks lined the wall, stuffing torn from cushions and papers scattered upon the floor.
Her knuckles had turned white as she held quite firmly to the candlestick and the paperweight she carried as a makeshift weapon. The woman looked towards the third set of stairs, leading up to the final part of the house: her bedroom and study. Straightening her shoulders and raising her source of light upwards, she journeyed on, slowly and tentatively. Her lips drew back into a grimace as the smell that had greeted her at the door had only grown stronger.
The smell itself reminded her of a...
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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.
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Disappointed from when he stepped into the camp - and exposed to unexpected cruelty, no matter what debt he owed, he found it better than staying in a puddle of toxicity - that seemed to strangle him whenever he tried to breathe. Yes, he had planed on.. Helping, some sort of way. Whether it be breaking them out - maybe even helping that strange Silven go about things! But, as time passed, it didn't seem worth it. his bitterness had already turned into it's ashes - into sorrow, rather. No guilt conscious on his head as he began to move off the path from the Fort.
Down the stairs, he held a bag of groceries. Freshly bought from the store, even though he had strange glances stolen from him. Non that he minded - Alistair already knew what...
Otto Bergmann sat down on his bed, for the day had been immensely tiring for him. Many unfortunate men and women had seen his face as he dragged them to the camp for the pogrom. He would probably be in their nightmares now, but that didn't matter. The Emperor is to be obeyed, and obey Otto shall.
~ These events occurred four months or so ago. ~
Fathiyaa Nasir lay flat on her back against the stone floor. Her head slightly propped against the wall. Her sweat soiled white hair was disheveled, barely tucked back in an unkempt bun. She still wore the collar placed on her during the horrid bloodletting session two weeks earlier. Her clothes were filthy and disorderly. The woman lay gazing blankly toward the cell door with her bloodshot tawny golden eyes. It stood open but she was too weak to stand let alone walk out through that door to freedom. The Songaskian woke up feeling the familiar full body chills and unforgettable crippling pains she’d felt. She deteriorated further as the day went on. She was exhausted by the evening and...
Quiet nights in the for what seemed like eternally locked room sat the blonde, face first into the molded and disgusting stained writing desk. A tear stained table top was greeting the bastard Nelfin much like a pillow to a child, she'd lift her head up from the desk knocking a much past old bottle that had previously contained some sort of alcoholic beverage to the creaking wooden floor, causing the glass to break and shatter into a small pieces across the floor. She wouldn't give a simple flinch at the noise, the child faced woman brushing her tangled and overgrown blonde locks back from over her face giving a quiet sigh. The pale faced woman had bags under her eyes, her cheeks and nose tinted with blush from sickness. She looked...
Morning came quickly to the Girobaldan landscape, sending a bright orange hue reflecting off the surrounding waters and over the large town. Few townsfolk had already begun to make their way through the streets either returning home from a late night or heading to their early jobs at the docks. Birds had begun to chirp in the surrounding trees while the various waterside species more annoyingly cawed and squawked looking for their morning fish. The atmosphere was vastly different in this section of the archipelago. It was warmer, and certainly far more quiet than the constant hustling in Regalia proper. A nice break for most.
Despite the new scenery, as if it were clockwork, the once Vanetti was already stirring out of his slumber to...
She sat at her desk in her home, preparing her attack. She knew how she wanted to do it, however, who is the question. She closed her eyes, deep in thought. After ten minutes, she decided to go for a walk, hoping that she would get a target on her mind.
As soon as she walked in the Tavern, she immediately noticed Vivienne Harhold. Recognizing her from past incidents, she knew who her target would be. She left the Tavern right away, satisfied with her choice.
At home, she changed clothes. They were black and made her almost invisible when she walked in the shadows of the night. After twenty minutes, she was ready and put a mask on her face. Then, she left her home, looking for her target. From this moment, she was The Masked Warrior...
Captain’s log 8th of January, 295 A.C - Strange sightings, and superstitious men
The men have been restless for the past few days, as we close in towards the Continental mainland of Daendroc. Supposed sightings of bad omens such as constant rainfall, pools of sharks following the ship and the supposed sighting of a bird clad in crimson cloth with the symbol of some ghost crew of pirates and raiders; sailors’ superstition, I say. We have had to place five of the rowdier sailors under arrest, awaiting court martial once we reach land. The uncertainty with the crew is affecting productivity as well, I must have a letter penned and sent to the Archipelago, requesting trained and loyal men. Until then, I will just have to endure their silly...
G H O S T S
“I think love is like ghosts,” the half-blood stated, staring upwards as their Claith company lifted a ginger brow.
“How so?” She inquired for a moment, half turning herself to look at him.
“I know other people say they have seen ghosts, but I really can't. I don't know if I believe in them or not yet.”
The Claith leaned towards him, pondering his words before nodding as if in agreement, “My ghosts have never really been anything other than fakes,” she said. Her emerald gaze scanned over the snowy road before the bench they sat on.
“Maybe I should start hunting ghosts rather than sitting around and waiting to see one,” the Silven said towards their companion, watching as she clasped her hands together to keep them...
The night was grim, and coated the deandroc jungle in a thick blanket of void. A split platoon of Ailor cut its way through the jungle, battered and confused to all hell. There was no Platoon Leader, neither a second in command as they were both now M.I.A. The group were in the midst of enemy lines and didn’t even know it.
“How you… Holding up Grimhild?” Spoke a blonde, red-caped soldier, a Bloodcast Knight. Aldrick Reinard was his name.
“I… I’m just fine... And you?” The blue-eyed, scruffy brown-haired woman replied. The women's armor had been dented from taking a blow from a blunt weapon in the previous costing Skirmish.
"I'm... Just fine." He'd return the comment as he trudged forward.
The two walked side by side, ‘leading’ the...
A madwoman came to shore! Came to the shore of Ellador!
Clad and leather, won't someone grab the teather?
Her eye as fiery as the mind of fury!
That woman coming at the shore, at the shore of Ellador.
A madwoman! A fiend! Coming to the shore, the shore of Ellador!
She passes by us like the dirt, the dirt beneath her feet.
Her gaze cold, blazing cold as we have been told
Heading for the mountain, the mountain to men, of which is bane.
A fiendish woman came to shore, the shore of Ellador!
We plead to the woman approaching the shore, the shore of Ellador.
We beg with cries "Oh woman! Thou whom encroach upon our shore, turn away for the mountain be of gore!"
"Stay upon the shore, the shore of Ellador, where y' beauty can stay upon the...
"Are you sure you want to go through with this Mr. StoneHeart?" The man said, between his stacks of papers
"Please." Alexander replied, waving his hand in the air slightly "Mr. StoneHeart was my father's na-... ahem, you can call me Alexander." As he said this his smile would fade
The older man seemed surprised slightly, saying "Of course.. Alexander. It's just.. changing your name.. It's a big commitment you know?" The man spoke with slight worry in his voice
Alexander let out a slow sigh, saying "I understand the importance if the decision, which is why I waited so long to do this.. now is the time."
"A-Alright then, so Alexander, do you know what you wish to change it to?" The man would begin grabbing his ink and quill, ready to...
On his mind again.
She was on his mind again. She was always on his mind, be it at the forefront or just a thought that popped up every so often and reminded him to smile. She was in his heart. No-one had ever gotten so integral to his life so fast, but here she was. He hoped she'd stay.
To him, she was beauty, pure and unadulterated. In the way she moved, the way she talked, the way she looked, the way she was. He wouldn't trade it for anything, wouldn't trade her for anything. He couldn't. He didn't remember ever being so angry as when Leon had thrown a proposal ring at her, didn't remember ever being so happy when he was with her, didn't remember ever falling as deep and fast as he had. And still, he wouldn't change it. He'd told...
A young lady dressed in white stood before the full-length mirror of her quarters, tucking nervously on the violet sash that cut across her wedding gown. A servant stood close by, but in that moment all the preparations had been completed and only the chime of the hour was waited for. As the woman fretted quietly over herself, staring intently into the mirror, the door behind her clicked quietly open and a soft chuckle- friendly in all means- came from the woman that was invading the moment.
“Raina, your fidgeting is going to ruin your dress,” said the softly accented voice of her older cousin, Darcie. The Ithanian woman strode across the bride’s room and slipped in front of her, blocking the view of her reflection as she...
The boat ride to Ellador was a simple one. The two sisters mostly conversed about the Nelfin’s home. Joasaie asking questions and Katrina answering in a blunt yet secretive fashion, though near the end, Joa reminded Kat of another goal of coming to this land. On arrival the Yanar was left agape in sheer awe at the Isldarian home. All the snow, forests, and tundras were wonderful to see. "You grew up here, sister? It's beautiful." a slight shiver following the statement "Really cold too. Isldar have it lucky, not worrying of such." Katrina simply shrugged, her icy blue hues scanning about the arctic planes she proudly called her home. “Da. Though most Isldar outside of Regalia do suffer effects from the cold.”
The two walked across...
The short figure of the youngest Vauclain stood before the oak door of her brother's room, staring at the doorknob before going to knock lightly on it with her right hand. "Freddy!" She shouted, her voice echoing down the hall, bothering a few of her other family members that were currently playing chess in the lounge. "Fred! Come out, you promised to show me how to play chess!" A muffled response chimed through the door, a masculine voice responding in their mother tongue of d'Ithanie. "I can't hear you, Freddy-" Before Juliette could continue her shouting though, the door flew open to reveal her brother, who's furrowed brows showcased his disapproval of her shouting.
"Julie, must you scream outside my door like a banshee?" He asked...
As Seri settled down in his study, propping himself up on his chair, he simply thought about these perpetual nights of his. Perpetual in being of reading, sleeping, and returning to a world blocking him from the spotlight. He turned to friends who already were done with him. Everything in Aloria perplexed him for some reason. Perplexing everything in life didn't lead Seri down the right path. He decided to try something new. Maybe new could be better. Tonight, he read something different. Maybe different was something he needed? Over the night, the difference never helped in the least. Something different seemed wrong. Something different was. . . different.
Seri was falling through the ever known hole of loneliness, known by many in...
Kimmie Bigge sat alone in the tavern, quietly petting her puppy Olivia as she thought back to how happy she was just a day ago. The woman listened in on other's conversations only to have her heart completely shatter at the latest gossip. All anyone would see was the Bigge walking out of the tavern and towards the carriage to Kronau.
As the woman walked through the forest surrounding her home thoughts rushed through her mind, but a single thought stuck out. That it was her fault. Her knees gave out from under her and she broke out into silent sobs, the ones she'd been letting out for an entire day now. Hours passed and the girl was still out there, but she's fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. Eventually some of the house guards...
Rest now, Rest
Age is a deceiver none the less
You will grow old
Others will remain young
But Rest is to be had
For Age is the deceiver
To what you can do
The last stroke of the poem was added as the clock turned twelve on the very early morning of November the 19th, 305 AC. Avilda looked down to it reading it over again, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Thirty years, and it was only a beginning.
Even though to some it might be older, to her it was still but the youth.
So much left to do.
For age is a deceiver.
Occ Note: Just a small story to Avilda's age up to thirty, had fun writing it
Tags: @Dekuras @WalnutNinja
The night was like any other, cold, dark, and cloudy. The little fishing town Alexander had been staying was a curious thing, for a week and a half there had been storm clouds overhead, however not a single drop of rain had fallen, nothing too strange, but noteworthy.
Alexander and his mentor Fergus had been enjoying there last night in the town, having a couple drinks before they were to head out in the morning. The night had been going well, no fights, no ruckus, they were almost out of there, and on there the way to their final destination, Regalia.
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"Listen to yourself, Alexander! A simple life? No...
"So-.. So cold..."
Found in the Early Hours of the 28th of November, 305AC was none other but Tobie Peirgarten, lain in the snow beneath a tree of the Noble District. A blood trail indicated towards the Freisnolder Mercenary Keep, the path he had taken to escape a dreary fate.
His makeup had been torn away, removing his usual good looks and showing off a scarred and damaged face from his younger years. It took well enough time for people to identify him, nobody had seen Tobie without his makeup on and many people hardly noticed. The Clinic found him a simple patient to work with, many people speculating he had done this to himself as there were no signs of a struggle within the keeps' holdings.
To truly shine a light upon the event...
“Keep up! I thought you were a soldier, not some young deer still trying to find its legs!” Darcie called over her shoulder to her companion, her boots crunching the snow underfoot.
Rufus, the woman’s husky, was ahead of the other two and just within looking distance. The animal seemed to be quite content with being the leader of their trio. He paid no mind to his master as he simply continued to plod along through the snow. The dog simply assumed the woman and her companion would follow.
Darcie halted in her steps, fully turning now to look in the direction she had come, hoping to spot whomever she had been teasing not moments earlier.
“Gideon? Dear where are you?” She called out, a frown beginning to form on her normally smiling...
"I just need something to happen. I need a sign that things are gonna change. I need a reason to go on, I need some hope." -Grey's Anatomy
The house sat empty then, after the visitors had all left. Only the injured Claith remained with her dear feline, one named for her beloved sister. The woman peered around the empty bottom floor- the apartment room so small that she didn't have to move from her spot to see the whole area. Until she got the nerve to limp up the stairs with her broken ankle, she'd just stay in there, the woman had decided long before her guests had departed.
A long sigh dragged from the woman and slowly she lowered her head to rested on her arms which were folded on the table. Her whole self felt tired, like she'd...
Merina smiled at her reflection in the window- the best thing she had for a mirror. The Claith picked up her wooden comb and pulled it through her ginger curls, attempting to tame it as best she could before pulling the frizzy mess into the usual semi-neat bun she wore. She grinned once more at herself before turning, giving Gina the cat a good pat on the head, and pulling on her cloak before heading out the door of the apartment.
She walked along, grabbing a breakfast of bread from the tavern before continuing on for a morning walk through the snow-coated city. Merina’s ankle bought a pang of pain up her leg as she went, flooding back the memory of her accidental tumble over her own two feet earlier that week. The woman sighed in...
Working under the hand of the Princess of Castellajoux I had the responsibility of both entertaining the court while also keeping a watchful eye on those who would harm or conspire against her majesty. I cannot remember exactly how much blood I shed to retain what I perceived as stability, or how much I imprisoned amidst my ambitions except for one single person.
I entered my office late at night to find my favourite pair of sleeping shoes when my fingers slipped at the key’s turning and the metalpiece broke into the lock. I faced myself confined within a chamber half the size of my quarters, with all but books and documents to provide against my boredom.
As I sat there for days behind the wooden desk, the walls grew ever closer...
Velencia Malvosin
It was a staredown. Between the two women, there was enough estrogen in the air to kill any living male within 3 miles of the two sisters that stood in the threshold of Velencia’s home. The eldest of the family, Clarimonde, had shown up unannounced, much to Velencia’s dismay. The smug look on Ari’s face said it all; she had always enjoyed watching Velencia’s displeasure in even the smallest of situations. Ari ran a hand on top the mantle, purposefully knocking over the items seated on top of it, a little collection of books. With a cold glare, Ari bent to pick up one of the books she had knocked over, clucking her tongue as she ran a finger down its spine in slight interest.
“How do you manage to keep this place...
The young woman carried the two year old boy on her shoulders, singing a nursery rhyme off-tune as she went; despite it though, the darkly tanned toddler was all smiles as he held to his mother's hands, stayed balanced as he sat at her neck. He leaned his head down, pressing his cheek against his mother's matching dark hair.
"Mama," he said finally, yawning. The eighteen year old hummed lightly, rubbing her thumbs over her son's small hands. "Mama, tired."
Daria turned her head slightly to glance at the boy before raising her arm behind him and pulling him off her shoulders to instead hold him snuggly against her chest, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Darling," she murmured, her hands rubbing his back briefly. "Let's take you...
The small tapping could be heard on the wooden floors along with shuffling. They were uneven and a baby’s laughter greeted the rest of the sounds. “Good, Theo! Now come to Momma.” Ida would let her fingers slip from the child’s as he waddled back and forth. She kept her eyes on him and her hands out ready for his fall. “There you go.” She encouraged with a gentle coo.
Smiling brightly, he revealed his two bottom baby teeth as he stomped awkwardly towards her. Squealing with glee as he ran into her arms. Ida chuckles and swoops up to twirl him around and place him down besides his sister. Now the twins, with time lost the rosy hair color. A deeper strawberry-blonde curls bobbed up and about as the two waddled towards their mother. They...
The Claith sat in the corner of the unoccupied bed of the cell, staring blankly ahead at the lapis surrounded bed of the cell. Her gaze had been resting there since two hours prior when she gave forced soup down her throat. Other prisoners would come and go, but she sat through the night and previous day, hiding in her shallow bunk.
Other prisoners who had been there when she'd arrived and stayed since she'd been would notice the odd Claith's pets- soft lilac butterflies. But has the hours ticked by they slowly seemed to diminish. By the next morning, they were all gone. So the Claith sat alone, more alone than she'd been since she was a seven year old outcast of her hamlet, hiding by the brook.
So the poor woman sat alone. For night...
**Meldanya: my dear | Amil: mother
"Amrynn, *meldanya, what are you doing?"
From her place swaying gently in the hammock, she asked with a small chuckle. Watching her son try desperately to pull a carrot free from the ground. The young Cielothar had been successful, for a few moments in his harvest. A pile of five carrots stacked neatly a top a kerchief in the grass next to him. None of them were very big, but he was proud of them nonetheless. After all, every direction his mother had given him was dutifully followed; perhaps the watering part a bit too seriously...
Though, the very last carrot to be harvested was proving to be a stubborn root. His tiny hands had dug a little dirt away to get a firm grasp, but no matter how hard he...
The snow spun through the doorway as I pushed myself into the alehouse, taking a moment to stomp my snow-coated boots on the floor. Over my shoulder, the leather bag hung heavily- filled with the rabbits I’d managed during my hunt that day: 13th of December 202AC. A sly smirk crossed my features as I drew myself to sit at the bar, pushing the bag back with my elbow to rest behind me a bit.
“A drink, would you, beau- Barmaid?” I called to the barmaid who shook her head, giving a small smile towards me though as she returned in a minute’s time with a bottle in hand which she rested on the counter. Her palm remained lifted though in wait of my coin which I took longer than I usually did to retrieve just to annoy the poor woman farther...
A splash rung out in the early morning mist, birds softly chirping as the grass was still wet with morning dew. An arm suddenly hooked back in the mist, only to disappear again as it was flung forward. A small plop was heard as the lure of a fishing rod landed in the water. The person holding it let out a grunt, as she leaned back in the grass around the edge of the pond. It was clear she was a Northerner, the skin on her arms and legs covered with tattoos, as well as her face. Her hair hung just below her ears, her bangs pinned back with a silver clip. Her brilliant blue eyes watched the water, but she wasn’t paying attention to fishing at all. You could tell because she had her feet in the water swinging them around from time to time...
The little girl sat upon her bed with an odd expression, staring at the door across from her. The young toddler's shift was wet from her mother's tears that she didn't understand- nor the words that came from her mouth.
Gone.
That had been said many times. The toddler gazed at the closed and quiet door of her room, something seeming odd to her. Like an emptiness. Slowly she came to realize why- her papa had yet to say goodnight to her.
The three year old sat with her legs crossed on her bed, staring intently in wait for her father. But the minutes ticked by and no man appeared. Slowly, she wrapped her little fingers around the hem of her skirt, tugging on it lightly as she impatiently waited.
But no one appeared. Her father did not...
The snow fell lightly as the hooves thudded against the frozen grounds, dragging along the black carriage. The left wheel divots into a hole deep enough to jostle the carriage. With the sudden movement, Ida’s eyes snaps open and sharply inhales. Looking about and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she yawns and peers out the window. Rooftops formed in the horizon with stone structures and smoke coming from the chimneys. The last piece of what was her husband was his journal which was placed in a box with various rings. The box was carved with care and beauty with the family crest, his name and the day of his last breath. Sealed with metal, Ida held it close as the carriage trudged on.
“Momma, are we there yet?” A small child’s voice...
!! NOT CANON. ALSO VIOLENCE. !!
Night had crept into the Holy City quickly. Under the cover of heavy rain and the low rolling thunder that ricocheted through the alleys, it's ambush allowed the many followers of a broken path the freedom to dwell in corners. Unnoticed. Ready to claim their next prize.
Despite the veil of darkness, light still drifted from the Golden Willow. Its warm glow illuminating entrances to alleyways, gleaming in the eyes of rodents and stray cats alike that took turns appearing in corners, and disappearing behind crates. Chatter from the tavern faded into the darkness like a gradient, just as the light did into the shadowy maze of the in-betweens of Regalia.
Gently, the sound of footsteps disrupting the water...
He turned from the farmhouse, putting the older man and his sons to his back as he began to slowly limp his way down the snow-dusted road. His breath clouded in the air in front of him, despite the cloak wrapped tightly around his body. He heard the door click shut as his benefactors, and friends, returned back to the warmth of their hearth. It had been a long, and slow road to recovery, and it would be an equally difficult undertaking making it to the City in this weather. What choice did he really have, with how badly things had gotten in the last year? The Johlensmiths had sheltered him for far too long as it was, and he refused to impose himself any longer, despite the offer being made. So he would return. In the cold. To a city...
I pressed my palm against the glass of the window and a frown deepened across my features as the cold began eating at the warmth in my fingers. Every now and then a snowflake would land against the window, causing the window to become the smallest bit colder.
Each day that passed by my worry grew larger. My worry may have grown, but I continued to put on a facade that nothing is wrong with me, and that the possibility of something happening to my family didn’t affect me. I wasn’t one who let personal emotions get in the way of my life outside of my household, but there are days where it had affected me. Such as today; I had decided to seek out my eldest sister Patience in a failed attempt to calm my nerves. The only times I ever felt...
(( I felt compelled to explore the dynamic between Ulric and his wife after an IC discussion this evening. Not my best writing, but I'm content with the result. ))
The iron carriage rode hard through the streets of Calemberg. Before it, the swathes of citizens dotting the streets parted, quick to make way at the uproarious commands of the two armored cavalrymen leading the procession. Men removed their hats, and ladies made short curtsies as the erratic sound of hoofbeats passed them by at speed, snaking along the streets towards the center of the city, towards the Holzburg Palace.
The cortège continued onwards, passing through several dark iron gates and checkpoints, before finally coming to a halt before a pair of towering metal...
It was during the summer of 303AC that my father finally settled down and told me a story from when he arrived in the court of Castellajoux.
He was waiting for a carriage in the great winter storm to get home from the Hivreois palace. When the vehicle finally arrived, he grasped onto its railing and scaled its steps to glimpse at the great crowd within: a hundred men and women crammed into the carriage. The driver roared at him from the front: “It’s full.”
My father, a stubborn man he was, grasped onto the side of the carriage and secured himself on the steps to ride along no matter how crammed it was. The coach passed over lakes of fire, through fields of battle and through tunnels pitch black. Had this poor man let loose of the...