The day was as sunny as ever with summer around the corner, there was barely a cloud in the sky. Elena was doing her usual shopping, she was wearing her summer dress as she overlooked a batch of fresh strawberries, when a man, rocking a similar platinum blonde hair just like herself.
"Are you an 'Elena Aduro' i have been searching for?"
As Elena turned to the strangers voice, looking at the stranger with a confused look as she readjusted her glasses.
"Y-yeah? Do i know you?" She asked like she didn't already have an idea."
The tall and rather thin male lifted his hand to brush through his hair, he looked down at her with eyes covered by a thin pair of glasses.
"I guess i have a lot to explain, but you are definitely the right...
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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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It was a place he always found himself in, when he dreamt. Cool sheets and idle winds giving way to still air and rough ground underfoot was nothing new to him, by now.
Some details changed, and others remained constant. Sometimes he would be on a darkened stony shoreline, mountains looming like gods in the background. Other times it would be a ground of sleek black glass, with stormy clouds far above him. Sometimes it would be a cave. Invariably, silence reigned, and water would snake beneath his feet, or linger in the distance.
This time it pooled beneath his boots, holding him to the earth like chains as he gained his bearings with a turn of the head. To describe the place he found himself in as a simple cavern would have demeaned...
A heavy breath huffed from the Asha's snout as his thin, soft furred arms brought up the belt-shot and fired.
Ping
The quicksilver ball launched forward but Atum didn’t watch it strike. Ducking down, his pawed feet shifted him to the right as, sheltered behind a stone wall, his tail swatted the next belt shot down from the wall. It fell into soft paws that worn by exhaustion remained steady as the grave. The next step was instinctive ramming another ball of quicksilver down the barrel, priming the purestone base, and in one quick rise firing into his target.
Down, move, load, rise and fire
Down, move, load, rise and fire
Down, move, load, rise and fire
Down, move, load, rise and fire
The lew clade asha grit his sharp canine-like...
The Auld-Kin looked out into the district living and breathing outside his second story window, the culmination of so many stories and memories gracefully walking by every now and again. Yet, his focus was on alone the thoughts that had plagued him as of late. He shut his eyes tight, clasping his calloused hands onto the pendant of Estel that was attached to a simple wooden necklace. "Glory Almighty, Glory Estel. Glory Almighty, Glory Estel. Glory-." He paused in his prayer, opening his eyes. Something did not feel right anymore. There was something off with his prayers as of late, something that felt as if a hole was ever precariously there - waiting to plunge him into the deep.
Bel-Gyarbrin retreated from the window, heading to a...
Spirit, how many are my foes?
How many more men, more women, must I cut?
How many more must I deliver before my trial is over?
A personalised verse of the Holy Faith.
Remembrance of tumultuous terrors transpiring in his wake oft called for guidance from a higher power. Mayhaps the Spirit was simply absent from the walds of Opper Calemberg. Such would have certainly explained why an affront to Ailorkind was deemed necessary. Why, though praise was given from higher rank, many of its perpetrators left the order. Why many more under the regiment never woke after.
Screams, shouts, shrieks echoed about the village. One’s home village. Figures clad in dirt-hampered cloaks and tricorne hats closed in from alley to square. Families of...
“Dear Deldrax,”
It was burnt. Again, the leaky, slum home had managed to fill with gray plumes of smoke. Forcing Fen’nan to throw open her windows, watching the result of her cooking float towards the twinkling stars, and vanish. Lips upturned in some silent amusement on what her Brood partner would remark.
“Next week will mark the third month since you left,”
Swiping the crimson hair from her face, it was only when the smoke had cleared, did she look down at the plated charred fish. That she had set two plates instead of one. The home barren and silent around her, slowly her smile faded.
“I left Regalia for a little while too actually. Recently I could return.”
Fen’nan took the second plate, leaning over the kitchen counter to...
“Two little dragons, fly in the sky, one of the rain and one of the sky—”
—The small silk bundled child let out a cry.
“Oh Dragons.. Did I not sing that right? Do you not like the song little one?”
The baby sniffled. Novellia’s lips pouted, but soon returned to that sun-like performer’s glee. She tried to sing again amidst a bedroom sheltering the pair.
“Two little dragons fly in the sky, one of the rain and one of the sky.”
“Go away, dragon of the ra—”
—The piercing scream stopped any incoming lines. The young mother carried her child close, giving a gentle sway of her arms to lull her back into the tranquil realm of restfulness.
Once calmed once more, she gently caressed her infant daughter’s cheek.
“Cat, you do not like that...
(♩♫)
(ambience for sailing in a storm)
-⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽⛵︎⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻-
The eerie creaking and buckling of the hull wouldn't cease as violent waves crash against it from bow to port. A storm blew up north from Hadarian waters and made itself well known to the warden aboard his vessel. What was supposed to be a trip to clear his mind after recent events on warm waters became a fight to keep from capsizing past midnight.
Heavy crashes of salt and brine soaked waters splashed aboard one after another till the snapping of rope sent kegs of supplies tumbling off the starboard side. Coren, in a hopeless effort reeled in, one tight grip upon some rigging of the main mast as it...
Triss sat on the steps of her parent’s home in Talant, head resting against the wall beside her. The crisp scent of the ocean wafted around her. The ocean’s waves were calm. Soothing. She could see her yacht floating gently at the docks a bit in the distance. The sun was getting ready to set, its light dancing across the waters.
She had missed being home. Friends from the navy greeted her readily, bombarding her with questions about Regalia. Her parents did much the same while also inquiring about the ring on her finger. Letters could only do it so much justice. All in all, it was a pleasant visit. The Allorn Empire had not changed… too much about Algassai, and that was a relief to Triss.
Footsteps approached from the path up the...
Introduction: The Solisti submission for @Annie_Short 's Imperial Court Prestige Event was the synopsis of a Dressolini opera, earning the prestige of winning honorable mention in the Emperor's evaluation. The story is presented in three acts, telling of the turbulent life of politician Giove Tiano. It’s a tale of enduring tragedy while staying true to one’s principles, and learning to rely on your allies and religion to prevail in the end. You can likely identify many or all of the characters through clues on the Solisti family and knowledge of old events. If you would like confirmation on solving the identity of characters or events portrayed within, feel free to inquire in-character. Without further ado - enjoy!
Perso e Trovato...
There was so much more that I wanted to do...
The Songaski woman sat in her chair. She looked around before muttering to herself.
"This may be the very last day that I return to this place. Or the very last day that I will be alive. Whatever's going to happen to me, I will accept it."
Juane wasn't afraid of death. She has never been. As she let out a sigh and stood up. Then, she moved out of her office and closed the door.
--
In her cell, the Songaski waited for the Lord Commander.
Dear Shambala, what must he think of this? A member of the Violet Order, a medic at that, wanted for conspiring and rebelling against the state. For a mere opinion that was poorly worded and had no ill intent.
Sadly, the Lord Commander didn't...
Following Lord Etienne Dubois's public statement to the Knightly Orders, the remaining rounds of the Cycle of Growth Tournament were hosted throughout the week. While festival goers from the capital investigated the sleepy Burdigala town for the source of Saturday's sudden end of the dueling, it would not distract some of the remaining knights from going to the tournament field early in the mornings with the Dubois Lord, to complete the final qualifier rounds before the real tournament began.
While the crowds were notably smaller than they were on the scheduled date, vendors still found an opportunity to peddle their wares to those that did show up. Perhaps due to the reality of a Reinard in the Chancellery, or perhaps the...
HELLA OUTDATED
OOC NOTE:
Might wanna loop it. I don’t know how long it’ll take you to read. I tried not to make this over-the-top long.
Tae's accent isn't here, because the entire time they're speaking Sofaal in this story.
“Cagan. Cagan Fa’Salor. Where is he?”
>Date: July 31st, 303 AC
>Time: Afternoon.
>Location: Korbamakora, Songaskian Masaya, Farah'deen
Taeron moved to push through a crowd of people. Soldiers, commanders, medics, and those alike. The military had just returned back from Regalia after the Hadravian war. A million reunions seemed to be happening at that moment, but Taeron couldn’t find his brother anywhere.
Before becoming separated, the Fa’Salor duo promised to meet up in their home in Korbamakora once...
A Dreadful Day in Daenshore
Part 4 - "The Final Stand"
“If you know what’s right for you... You’ll drop your weapon...” The monstrosity’s voice emanated out.
Sivo would get a smile on her face upon hearing his voice, she'd slam her fist on the door to the chamber. "Fuck yeah!" She'd call out excitedly upon her husband's words. It wasn't the first time, nor the last time, that she would be saved yet again by the Cratos. A damsel in distress, although she wouldn't admit it. The guard, on the other hand, did not comply. "Come fight me face to face, demon!" He would demand, his confidence breaking slightly in his voice. The horrific scrapings of metal would be heard as the Monstrosity would step in. A Clocktik Warhammer made by his...
"It is the morning of March 20th in this year of 309 AC,
where I am greeted with the capable volunteer and daresay friend
who offers their arcane-wielding hand to be my voice and my pen.
I owe a good explanation to those above, with, and below me; to justify the
disasters, or the 'wilting' as my cousin, the good Duke, often refers to it. So we shall
write this personal account together."
* * * * *
There are things about fighting that are less discussed than its glories.
No books told me about how the armor never quite fits you as it's meant to if it wasn't commissioned for your stature. I never read anything about how the straps and ties come loose very often if you move too much or incorrectly.
Boarding the ships to the southern...
A Dreadful Day in Daenshore
Part 3 - "Betrayed by Blood"
The crisp night air of the Daendroque streets are much clearer than in most places. Smelling of the sweets and stews that were being prepared in each household. The streets were silent, eerily so as the civilians of Daenshore were preparing for rest. The tops of the buildings lit up by the full moon upon the clear, night sky. However, betrayal and lies were rising with the moon of that starlit sky, blood spilling blood, family torn. This night will be remembered in the two lover's minds as the night that it all ended.
Sivo's crimson eye would form a tear, but she would quickly wipe the tear away before it had a chance at getting to her. She would move off from the door to walk...
Tizu’s cane tapped along the sand covered sandstone streets as his eyes took in the vibrant city. The streets were alive with people of all color, race, and style as merchants hawking their wares filled the air with their calls. It had been a long voyage but Tizu couldn’t help but notice a hollowness in his demeanor. He was home for a long while for the time in years since leaving the college.
“Doesn’t feel like home anymore,” he concluded to himself with a sigh, “Yet it will always be the place we gained our mastery of the strange.”
The Izu’s salamander features widened into a smile as his years of discovery rushed back to him. Only to be distracted by a sudden grip upon his shoulder. In one smooth motion, he twisted the lantern...
A Dreadful Day in Daenshore
Part 2 - "The Challenge"
Disrespect towards elders in the Daendroque culture is one of the highest forms of dishonor in a family. A man who spits on his mother's grave is no man at all, he is merely a monster. Two siblings who are blood, yet barely know each other, fight upon the floor of the farmhouse, spouting curses and swinging punches upon each other, as if they never shared blood to begin with. A family torn, the peace shattered in Daenshore.
Rhys walked over to Maria, saying “Is this how he usually acts Mrs. Driss?” Diego would be pinned to the ground, Sivo would pin him with her legs and, simply sending another punch into her brother's face. He would be overpowered and wasn't able to do much of...
A Dreadful Day in Daenshore
Part 1 - "The Truth"
The crimson red sun would be creeping on the horizon, as it was slowly raising into the sky. The bright, colorful buildings of Daendroque would be littered across the rolling hills of the landscape. Ribbons and lanterns would be hung up everywhere, balloons of crimson reds, yellows, orange, and all forms of warm colors. Children would be laughing, screaming, playing, sliding and jumping across the close rooftops, chasing each other. Adults would be scolding, chatting, and cooking all kinds of delicious cuisines. The air was fresh, with the scents of food, flowers, and the open air. Daendroque of all types were celebrating Freedom Week, as a close-knit unit.
Meanwhile, an Ailor would...
A Question for Another Day
It was on a cool, early March evening, that Cieli found herself struck with a certain thought. She was making her way back to her house after a day of work, and as such, was in no particular rush. Her thoughts had been going through their usual routine; what she would eat for dinner, how nice the weather was becoming, and how pleasant the streets were at that hour when a different thought popped into her head. It was not a foreign thought, and she had spent quite a bit of time considering it in the past. Even so, she still did not have an easy answer for it.
Perhaps it was the environment surrounding the city that brought it up. After all, when everyone seemed to be, or was trying to be, courting or...
One may come into the world, living and breathing, but you are not born through that process. You are not created in that natural act, but in a defiance against fate do you act upon something and be made anew.
The first was done through the act of losing faith in those Beings with Faces, called Gods, in watching their parents be taken by blind worship of them. Those hungering things filled with power that in that moment he railed against with all the wrath and rage of a zealot justified, their Lightborn Face, Palias.
The second was taken more than made, the supports made by faith and devotion stripped away to leave a shell, a vessel filled with longing and frustration. Only then when that insightful tempest passed did they cling to...
A Seaside Ceremony
All would have been quiet upon this Regalian beach shoreline, it would host the crashing of the waves against the rocks, filling the rock pools up with the quiet unheard lives with the likes of hermit crabs and other sea critters.
The beach would often see nothing out of the ordinary. Day in, day out water floods in and the tide pulls it back once more. Through rain, snow and hail. The beach remains. Quiet. Unheard of.
This day was different, although it wasn’t. The beach didn’t care, the hermit crabs didn’t care. Nor did the tide. But for those gathered, it was an important day.
The union between Lazarus Lupenzi and Gwyn ad Dothwaite would begin upon this beach. Lazarus, dressed in a relatively simple...
Downpour occcured just as Adelina had laid down to rest. Her head pounded, her nose still aching from the night before. She rolled onto her side, cringing at the sharp pain that filled her sinuses. Her heartbeat rang through her ears, along with the echoing thoughts of what had been said to her the night before, and previous. Everyone's phrases filled her mind, so much it made it hurt from just that.
Adelina needed to stop being foolish, stop fighting for something she doesn't have control over. It would just make it worse. That temptation and desire to just.. lash out- it needed to be ceased. Somehow.
The Lord Chancellor election notice of Florence Amaya was nailed to her wall, and had five knives sticking out of it. She glanced over...
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February 18th, 309 A.C.
5 A.M.
“Cecilairen! Let’s go!”
The shout came from far above him, echoing down the length of the grand, useless marble staircase that separated the aristocratic estate into thirds. Cecil looked up, releasing the poor—twenty-something? Thirty?—man he had just finished feeding on, fangs slipping back into shadows as his eyes flashed back to jade. Two, three stories up—that was doable. With a heave, he threw himself forwards and began to...
As the night embraced the world, a girl could only look through her window and dream. Her spider legs allowed her to lay her gaze onto a beautiful valley, mud, plants and soil turned into shades of silver, as the full moon shone above everything.
"Mal!" would whisper nervously her cellmate, Nihama, a strong Shenathar. "Come down! Do you want them to punish you again? Come down!"
Mal would ignore her friend, observing the lands beyond. She would look down, her eyes full of wonder.
"What do you think that exists beyond the facility?" The Maraya would return her attention to the moon. "The older kids said that beyond Saivale, exist other lands... And other people...And other races! Do you think that's true?"
A grumble would come from...
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There are two distinct kinds of love. One is called compassionate love, a love that incites us to wish the best for what we love.
And the other?
Concupiscent love.
Meaning?
It incites the soul to desire what we love.
Night had fallen, a cool yet somewhat comfortable February evening as the shop on the main road of Regalia known as Imperial Inks was being closed up. Gigi had long since been dismissed as the Kaeppler had insisted the younger woman go and enjoy her evening. And now, as she was pulling the double doors closed, she pursed her lips, contemplating...
Dreamscape Archive | 2-10-309
I'm in a meadow, indescribably basic. I can't make out my surroundings very well. The weather feels cool on my skin. It's early autumn - or maybe early spring. The flowers are a little dry. Arid, maybe. I don't know why I'm in this meadow. I'm lightly dressed for the weather, and I feel cold. I move forward through the grasslands, but as I move the grass becomes taller. My ears have some light tinnitus. I feel like that the grass isn't getting taller, but I am shrinking. I'm sinking. Beneath my feet is quicksand. I panic, and I turn around, and walk out if it easily. I'm in the meadow again in seconds. In the distance I can see an old fortress, run-down, maybe. Grey and red bricks. Some of the walls are...
[THEME]
Lee Ming-Qie was never good at cooking, which was why when Arien woke up in the middle of the night to the smell of… was that sugar? Hints of plum? She knew immediately who it was, and she was concerned.
Very concerned.
The Sihai padded over to the kitchen, her fists rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. As she steps down the halls towards the kitchen, her gaze flickers to the clock.
“3 AM. What is that bastard doing at /three in the morning/?” Arien grumbles as she reaches the kitchen, nudging the door open with her foot. Lee stood at the stove, a pot of… something (Arien wasn’t sure what it was, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know). A recipe book was set off to the side, along with numerous ingredient jars. Sugar...
Tell Me, Mother.
Cazna comes into the vision with the feeling of chills, frost adorns her body, her joints defiant as if being out in the snow for too long, and her hair stiff from the cold. There was nothing else to feel but the steady breeze of the onslaught of winter and the thin layer of water assaulting her bare feet. The only sound was the light splashes of each step and the whispers around her speaking a language unknown to her. The area outside of her immediate area was barren with ruins everywhere, no signs of life before vision tapered off into the darkness. In front of her was a mirror floating above a pedestal made of obsidian glass that gave off a faint green glow. The mirror itself was pristine, eight stones rested on the...
Amongst the dusty sands of Farah’deen brushing against the Bedouin-styled attire for The Mechanical Monstrosity, Rhys was led to a small area of ruin. A place that held memories of a choice he’s made that even he still questions the morality of. Stepping into the broken shambles of his former caravan, Rhys walked atop one of the few decayed skulls that still lingered there, no remorse as he kneeled down to wreckage. Wooden planks scattered about with a charred exterior amongst the majority of the scattered oak. He kept his eyes locked on it, within his tech form as he never expected to see the wreckage ever again.
“I’m sorry.” Rhys spoke to the broken parts, though a figure approached over from behind.
“You should be, after what...
(The death of the father of Fathiyaa’s children,
She is living in the Songaski village where she had her kids during an attack)
Tunes
Fathiyaa barely caught sight of the bolt before she felt the pressure. The blood quickly soaking through her undershirt, turning the soft pink color a dark dirty red. The Songaskian shrieked, she could do little else as the pain sank into her.
Gasping as the pain fanned out, creeping down toward her hip and up through her shoulder. The bolt had met its mark, lodging itself nearly in her ribcage. A skilled archer fired a crossbow bolt straight into a weak point in her armor.
The Songaski fell to her knees while trying to calm herself, the pure shock of being shot almost made her faint...
What a long trip.
(@bahmGe) Einherjar wasn't one to be sitting still within the amount of time allotted. If it weren't for the fact the crew was made only that of Url, a fight would have broken and someone would not have returned home the same being. In fact, given the creator's vile opposition to other's existence, they likely would not return at all. Yet, there was something different within his amber gaze that always held its burning passion within Ein; Ambition. The waves rocked the boat as Quin approached with a hefty limp while he kept a minor fatigue, though he as well did not let his warm breath attempt to break the cold atmosphere with his words. Both of these specific Url carried decent wounds, both of which an ear with...
The Qadir wrote with a passion mustering all his tact and eloquence into the words etched upon parchment. He had to convince Hernandez, he had to convince the Asaltadors to grant his desire...her desire for vengeance.
"Dear Brother,
I write after these many departed years to make a request. You know my trade and those whom benefitted from it and having served faithfully I’ve a request to make.
I shall begin with the good news,
I found someone and while I’m sure you’ve fainted from utter astonishment. I would like to begin by answering your unending questions: Yes she is pretty, No we haven’t gone to the extent you’re thinking, and Yes she knows about the dissections and is alright with them.
On to business,
I don’t know how far the...
With a scratch of clockwork spat ink another name was struck from the leather bound ledger .
“Another worker stitched up and ready for service, Señor Hernández. Please try to not come visit me too soon once he returns to work,” the doctor pleaded with quiet words.
The dim light of the Ailor’s garret illuminated the flickering light of the Qadir’s immaculate surgery. A toughened but jovial laugh rang out as a puff of smoke drifted toward the doctor.
“We try but Rodrigo just loves making new friends in the taverns,” Herńandez laughed.
The doctor gave a dry cough, his eyes glancing over his current patient: Rodrigo heavily bruised, several knife cuts to his arms, but now patched and recovering. After the once over the man’s eyes...
The Bloodknight: Beginning
It was a cold and dark eve, when the Darkwald raiders stormed the abandoned catacombs in Tirgunn's forestal countrysides. Rumour had it that a creature of the night had found itself homage in the depths of the murky tunnels, disturbing local folk at night in the form of a wolven canine. It was only natural that the Darkwald had been sent to the task; to find the source of this disturbance, and to eradicate it for good.
What could go wrong? The Darkwald were prepared for the task. Armed with their Puretek and shortswords, the tricorne-hat wearing knights made their descent into the catacombs, holding a dimly-lit lantern to banish the darkness for a source of light. "They call him the sleeper," said the...
(This one is super short, not sorry)
It came upon me in the wings of a castle which soared over kingdoms tall and fair that I might be at fault.
It started with boxes. Musty, moldy, mildewed wood settled down on stone flooring with a rattle and a cloud of dust, puffed from dragon-smoke of long forgotten dreams, hopes, and aspirations. The arched doorway, acting as that very Dragon’s maw, with its sharp fangs and devilish sneer — it did not seem all the welcoming to me quite yet. Of course, a bitter friend is better than a sweet enemy.
Over the course of a few weeks, it all flourished. No more did carved faces laugh at me from tiles of bones, piles of bones from which they spawned to rattle and shake in displeasure as I raided their...
‘The wee birdies sing and the wildflowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping,
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,
Though the waeful may cease frae their grieving.’
____Standing on a mountain pass overlooking the small village far below, Alasdair Lachlan blinked through damp eyes, despite the fact that the early-morning mist didn’t reach that far up the slopes. He could barely see the outlines of the fields and structures, but he knew them all by heart and even the barest hint of them was enough to create a surge of bittersweet longing and nostalgia, followed by a stab of fear. After today, he could hold on to hope no longer; either he would have no need of it or it would be dashed against the rocks like...
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"but here i am with arms unfolding
i guess it isn't quite the end
old partner in crime, i am going to try
to fall in love with you again."
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The cloudbusting downfall seemed never-ending as the roars from above echoed through the minds of Crookback Bay. Copious teardrops from the sky melted and became one with the cobble, soaking the wood and any other dallied strangers that would fall victim. Tentative, infinitesimal raindrops made their way down and off the leaves, finding their lost way home. They gave no encouragement to the disoriented souls around them, including the absent Altalar.
Unsettled and blustery winds whipped past Leuthien’s face, splattering shadowed stains of water along her...
╭-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╮
—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—
As the moon reached its zenith, twinkling in the light, a man pulled away from his lover. A million things ran through his mind, rife with emotions with names like regret, conflict, and broken hope. He tried not to look him in the face, tried not to worry him, but did it all the same—he was moving away like this for a reason, and they both knew it.
Nevertheless, with a heavy heart, he traversed from his (their?) room, away from a sad face, to a balcony overlooking a section between the West Side Park and Bilge Court. He stood, motionless, for some time (Minutes? Hours? The moon was silent, nary giving an answer). As if against his will, his...