Benjikhei

[!] From the Depths, rumbles a deep gurgling.. something, awakened. High-Gerent and SUPREME Shah of the Wonkawoods Diaspora; Mudskips The Merciful seems to delight in merriment at his beckoning to the celebratory gathering. Thereafter seeking to emerge from whatever ocean depths he scoured at present to the surface once more, gasping and croaking a few moments before a writhing tongue reaches for a nearby water insect, as the titanous leviathan dared to ponder further. "What's in a gift? OOH! I know, I know~ !"

B. Jasper Carrington; well famed naturalist and archaeological professor, from the far-estranged archipelago where he stayed a "sabbatical" in present time caught wind of his referenced work. He'd go to adjust his first-edition copy of the print, before setting himself down adjacent to an inkwell -- presumably to pen a revised edition. Then he awoke, back in his hovel - all but a dream.

The Brink of Extinction stays its hand- for nearby, Mudskips The "Merciful" wallows in the borogoves, and prances through the nearby wabe and undergrowth. His claps for joy echoing 'cross miles of swampland to come, and herald his reverence, finally granted, as a jovial tune of the estranged WONKAWOODS rings out. "Yup-Yup! She's done it, and so it goes, Mhm! Tralalalah!" __________________ Thereafter, he'd go back to his diving - scouring the very depths of the realm, for a strange goal and a deed without a "proper" name to itself for decades to come.

A Carrington adjusts his hat, whipping it off and flourishing it to a bowed stance from some forsaken hamlet- surely recognising the loss of a dear friend, even as he was now.

YES.

Blithely, a young Carrington scholar waddles down a cobble-bricked path, trotting along as his portable phonograph releases a slew of melodious tunes - apt enough for his fervorous work on the scholarship inquiry he would surely prepare for his various exotic exhibitions ! _____________________________________

A foreign figure hums a lost melody, a lullaby to himself; scant comfort whilst leading a forsaken and deformed mule down a winding road, through and through the woodlands to watch the blaze for himself, laying a flickering lantern and weathered documents beside him- he watched the kindled pyre light the horizon in hellish hues of smoke and agony. “What d’you think?” He queried to the sickened and limp equestrian, which let out a burbling and sickened neigh of hatred and lament, to which the man tutted silently. “Come now, it is a warmth in the night- be grateful, beastly thing.”

" And that's the way it goes. . . " Hums a pilgrim of foul repute, hammering a wooden sign into the ground - and scratching a medley of strange symbols and codes 'upon the surface into it. He then goes to sling his knapsack and various hammers and nails over his shoulder, and merrily trod upon his way - surely, today was a fine day.

The church walls ache and churn for mercy, and none was granted. A canonist wept, faux-tears for a godless land.

[!] A rather pertinent memorandum finds itself in the midst of dispatch, becoming unfurled and revealed to the public in empty streets of cities and expansive farm plains in what remained of formerly-imperial territory - strangely arriving with the present conclusion of the CIVIL WAR. THE SICARIAN LOUNGE - OPULENCE, DOMENICA CARLANIANO (c.1768) _____________________________ A SHOW OF FAITH TO OUR APPOINTED SOVEREIGN Amidst the transition and dissolution of powers, LA FAMIGLIA FALCONE offers its profound condolences to those families affected personally by the great conflict, these are indeed trying times for all inhabitants of the re-established Kingdom. Through moments of tribulation, we grow stronger. That is the song history sings, should we listen close enough- relocation, immigration, restructuring, all necessary for the betterment of tomorrow, a truth so potent no one dare contest it. It is important to look after those you feel a duty to protect, allowing your obligation to drive you. The same care a KING must hold for his subjects so shall a FATHER feel for his children, and as a family feels for each other when there is even the slightest omen of ill will that attempts to snake its way in. And knowing that the caring father, the doting mother will tread upon the serpent's head in an instant to protect their precious babes from venom - che nessun male accada loro. Having this in mind has made us resolute, surely so - ? It is important, always to position ourselves close to those who have our best interests in mind, and for that reason why FALCONE officially declares its most deafening and public support for the crown’s appointed successor, King Fredrick Barbarossa, first of his name. Let us hope this much more support will drive Eastern Humanity that much closer to providence and unity in the foreseeable future, our prayers are with this nation - and let us hope it shall thrive in years to come, evermore. May DIO, keep us all in his heart; yearning to see what we have done. SINCERELY AND HONESTLY, ——— DANTE “DURANTE” ALDO FALCONE ESTATE OWNER AND PRESENT HEAD OF LA FAMIGLIA FALCONE A DEPICTION OF ILLATIA - UNKNOWN (c.1813) __________________________

good golly

Discord: Benji#5000 skin: comm 1 bid: $25 usd

Discord: Benji#5000 skin: comm 1 bid: 17 USD

Hello, G'day, How are you - It's me here to shoot a couple queries I. Favourite Character Arc, and how it came to pass? II. How did you get to be so darn good at drawing + skinning, like geez . III. Something you'd wanna eventually do on the server for however long you're here ? IV. Rank all ur characters from most liked to just ok/disliked . V. Thoughts on me ?

Wandering the walkways, a self proclaimed "holy healer," comes across the missive in an alley - staring at its wording and releasing a guttural bellow and wandering on, swinging his various lanterns and lorraines as he went. ____________________

Master Beryl Carrington - Thrace/Arcturus (Arcas - Almaris) ____________________________ "How far can one fall before there's no other depths to drop?" His story is still being written, therefore I will omit details and reveal only some basic information about him and his progress, that said - he is one of my favourite characters and I'm proud at how far he's come. At first glance a wealthy heir, spawn of two illustrious artisans - or so he thought, eventually revealed to be a cursed and brainwashed individual, who had been bred and smuggled into a state as part of a larger conspiracy. Eventually rose to become a notable patron of the sciences before going missing and being led astray by [Redacted] and the influence of many other strange and vile creatures. Where he walks now is a mystery, though a cryptic figure of untold torment lies within.

A figure of enigma, a concocter of puzzles who stalked the world made his way to view the source of these rumours. Clicking and fiddling with a strange device in his hands he developed code after code, twitching as they formed in his mind. _____________________________ He thought not to reply, for it was not his place - merely spectating the craftsmanship and dedication on these here riddles, and noting the cleverness of their unknowable maker. " There's a mind. "

🤢 🤮 follow-up: are you a firm supporter for slice-of-life rp

Benji here, reporting for m-base news What have you to say on the impression that associates you with server deplore, and how do you plan to get past this stigma as a whole ? From your compendium of characters, which has been the most enjoyable to play for you personally ? Favourite event, lore-thing you've held to your name ? Where are you going, and why ?

Mudzkïp The Pedlar, croaks in affirmation as he pores over the missive - going to hop along in search of more wares to trade, to finally fulfil his goal of untold treasure and splendid wealth for him, ever a scumbag. ________

A Falcone manages to intercept one copy of this missive, turning it over as he continued his efforts to publish a great work of human philosophy before the end of the decade- chewing on a withered cigar like it was a stick of celery, puckering blows of smoke flying onto the note with prejudice, and yet somewhat an amusement. "What' the **** 'iss an Anti-Emperor, huh?"

AN ANTIQUE ABSTRACTION AT THE DARKENED SHORES ___________________ III “ Perfidious lecturer, keeping me from greater knowledge, always. ” ____________________________________________________________________________________ [!] LOST TO TIME, A SKETCH OF PROFOUND ANTIQUITY, DIAGRAM OF THE FORMA DESCENDENS IN SEGMENTS I - IV ______________________________________________________________________________ “Man; a species so perverse, tarnished by their actions and festering in deplorable lies. I cannot abide by them. Man; whom learns nothing from mistakes- except perhaps a new way for them to take blame to their enemies, and nail it to those scalps. Man; what I once thought myself to be, and I cannot live with it. Why doth thou seek to cause me to ache so? Haven’t I given thee enough, yet? I have removed and mutilated in hands my own what little uniqueness I craved for so long, I have taken up work in your institutions and quelled those who seek to hurt you, and yet you treat me so? I will take what is owed, mark me here– and see to it another babe is not stolen away so soon, and without mercy thrown into your ever-ticking contraption.” ________________________________ “I have seen you thrive by my hand, and I shalt be made immeasurably pleased by watching you fall– and I know what fiendish tortures and grotesque practices you highly covet amongst the rabble for unfortunate creatures like me, and thousands others of my kind have wept and spluttered and prayed for forgiveness, only to be met with the silent swing of a dull and rusted razor. Vile creatures, who’d take my life, of which you have no rights to do so, prithee make it quick, make it silent. For if it is not I who drives the knife to your rotten heart, it shall be those who follow in me– so watch yourself, and your numbers, for you know not who’ll next be born a second-cursed wretch.” AN ANTIQUE LAMENT, UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF AXIOS – 1215 _________ It was naught but black, and upon a darkened beach, cold and crashing crouched a robed creature, a ghoul in all senses but nature, sniffling desperately whilst leafing through a myriad of mouldy, damp volumes which sat strewn about the bog pile next to him– horrifically and irreparably mangled and mudded. Each page was tarnished and obscured from those sickened and dull orbs that were planted into his head, as a ripped glove continued to flip, flagrantly tearing that parchment, impudently of its content. Lies– all that flickered in his mind. A deluded fantasy– cried out another wailing voice within his inner sanctum. He stood to his feet, slowly and uncoordinated– the stance, that youthful poise he had not retained. He fell on his first attempt, into the black sand alongside his filthy tomes, angrily rebuking his attempt and splashing and flailing in rage. A weak rasping howl, rang out across the watery shore in anguish, before he stood upright again, articulated to his momentary victory. Finally, he moved to stand to his feet as coal-coloured water came rushing to his boots with the tide, submerging the books he so carelessly left behind in his wake- a lone figure traversing that moisture-ridden terrain, the hiss of a sea-snake rattling nearby. Once free of that unfavourable sitting, he pulled himself along- adjusting his hood to conceal his squalid and beggarly appearance, the cape too, hiding that bespattered garments that lay beneath. Along the sanded path he trod down the shore he came upon a hollowed out fortress tower, barely standing - looking almost naught but rubble, used by the ancients no doubt. . . they shan’t miss it– he concluded, settling into it within the span of the single witching hour, obtaining pyre and beginning a weak blaze. Dozing into that sanctum he silenced prior, to ponder about his self-enforced exile- and his future on. “Trapped.” “What?” “You. You are trapped.” “False assumptions? Surely you’ve better tactics.” “What reason have I to lie?” “. . .” “You weren’t wanted there, you didn’t belong there.” “Show respect! We were there for ages, and ages. . . to abandon it for ambition. . .” “THERE’S NOTHING THERE FOR YOU, CURSED.” “Please, hush- I must rest.” “THE GIRL HAS GONE TO WHERE NATURAL ORDER DICTATES SHE MUST.” “Insubordination? From you, no less– pathetic.” “WHAT WOULD YOU DO, WERE YOU TO STAY. CONSIDER IT CAREFULLY.” “I’d find something, as I always do-. . . have-. . . will.” “DON'T LIE. YOU WOULD BECOME A RECLUSE, A HERMIT. AND YOU ARE MEANT FOR MORE, YOU INSIPID BOY.” “What have you suggested? What have you concocted, pray tell? Oh! Anticipation, I wait.” “VENTURE SOUTH.” “South. And what possibly awaits there?” “PROMISE.” “For whom?” “FOR ALL.” “Begone, you cringer- slinking coward, back to the dark recesses you departed from.” “. . .” And with that, the figure awoke in a startle; frazzled and frankly disturbed by that morbid and foreboding conversation. Prying from a pile of driftwood that lingered nearby, and poking the now crackling flame to a dim, and thereafter, ashes. As the rumbling of the distant storm, and the splashing waves rung in his ears, a shiver overtook him - a loathsome feeling, to be out there, gasping and begging from air as the currents rocked you about from side to side. A sickened remembrance of being cast out there by a blast from that damned razing you had to bear witness to. . . No GOD for those drowned at sea, he now knew. If one came upon that site later, they’d have discovered nothing but that now defunct firewood, a sorry pile of ashes, a sea-foam worn coat of greenish hue- and various scrolls and diagrams of an age-old and esoteric nature; the last of his ephemeral collections and possessions in this mortal world. Where that man walks now was to be paid no mind, for now- that was all he could be defined as, just a man. Life is but a butterfly’s dream. And an abstraction therefrom. _____________________________________________ [!] THE OPHIDIAN ABERRATION, THE HERMETIC ARTISAN OF YORE, 47 SA. _________________________________________________________________ —_-___—_—_–____—-_–___—__–___ –_-____—--__-__-_-___—--__–_—----__-_–_ _ - -_-_-____-_ _ _ _—_-_— _ _ —-_–__— _–___—_–_—-_-___—---__—-_-_–_—_ “ - LFFQ ZPVS FZFT PQFO, UIF GPSDFT BU QMBZ PO UIJT FBSUIMZ GPMMS BSF OVNFSPVT BOE VOZJFMEJOH- UIFZ DPNF GPS ZPVS TPVM - ”

A creature within a bog, stirs - a tremendous yawn rumbling forth from his maw, as he stood tall, finally awoken. A few flies nearby quivered in fear.

Format Skin Name:, green dude, edgy Sauron, edgy paladin Skinner’s Username: BenjiBot_ Discord: Benji#5000 Bid: , 4 - 5 USD, 5 - 5 USD, 1 - 5 USD ( @RaiderBlue 🤬 ) ( Retracted from one bid, started another )

Format Skin Name: I actually like this one, green dude, edgy Sauron Skinner’s Username: BenjiBot_ Discord: Benji#5000 Bid: 3 - 15 USD, 4 - 5 USD, 5 - 5 USD ( updated bids in bold ) (so it begins. . )