Welcome to The Lord Of The Craft

We're currently the #1 Minecraft Roleplaying Server, fitted with many custom plugins and an incredibly active and passionate community. We're serious about Roleplay and we're always eager for new faces!

 

Register now to gain access to all of our features. Once registered and logged in, you will be able to contribute to this site by submitting your own content or replying to existing content. You'll be able to customize your profile, receive reputation points as a reward for submitting content, while also communicating with other members via your own private inbox, plus much more! This message will be removed once you have signed in.

Ford

Old Fart
  • Content count

    2,923
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

1,654 Godly

About Ford

  • Rank
    imma start screamin on dat ass
  • Birthday 06/27/1998

Contact Methods

  • Minecraft Username
    Ebonsquire
  • Skype
    gyasiford
  • Email
    gyasiford@yahoo.com

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Bloomington, Indiana
  • Interests
    My steam is speedillion.

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Veidan | Maaz
  • Character Race
    Wood Elf | Farfolk/Southeron

Recent Profile Visitors

39,705 profile views
  1. ummmmmm, why is your profile picture of a known school shooter and white supremacist, samuel el-hyde?! never knew our staff was composed of bigots!!!!!!!

    1. Skylez1

      Skylez1

      Some FUNNY FM changed it hahahahah !!!!

    2. Hyena

      Hyena

      TJ Lane was mine almost my entire time as a FM manager . . . /shrug

  2. Promotions

    Hmmst'd.
  3. Wiki Team Update Log - March

    hmm the wiki is still filled with undertale pics after all this time disappointing
  4. [FA] Varikas Goes Phyrexian

    beautiful ! ! !
  5. [FA] [SA] Haddock

    you actual ******* piece of ****
  6. [Fire Evo][ST] Blago

    bro what the **** is that name
  7. Buying LoTC.

    XD
  8. Mukai [Creature]

    Good. The lore looks alright my man
  9. Mukai [Creature]

    these wont be a playable race for regular players, right
  10. Let's make some cool ideas for Lotc

    wow! gay AND a furry AND intelligent? talk about a full package!
  11. ask the toxic Australian anything

    your honest opinion(s) of me ; ^ )
  12. Onwards

    Eight years. It had been eight years since Veidan departed the shores of Atlas with a sufficient supply of rations and a makeshift dinghy and oar of his own design. The mali'ame took it upon himself once before to leave behind those he cared for, the sojourn away and back spanning over ten years. This time, however, it seemed likely that he would break his previous record. Despite the strengths Veidan believed he'd built up, whenever things required the most of his courage, his peak could never be mustered. The mali caved into lust when tempted by a 'ker, betraying his first love. Haddock, his dear friend, fought against Mordring's forces and perished without Veidan by his side -- even though the elf made a promise. And then he left his people to reside in the degeneracy of Veris, to avoid the responsibilities that came with his oath to the Naelurir, if only for a moment. His good friends of the Manticore Initiative, taken by Mordskov. He accompanied them into the fray of the city itself, slayer steel blade ready, but all it took was the sight of an abomination to make him turn tail and flee. The druids of the Mother Circle carried more bravery in their hearts than even him when they remained behind on Bertha, combating the entities from beyond. Veidan had already ran away. Just when he had found another lover in his life, he simply departed without a word of goodbye. The elf believed that he had destroyed all the relationships that he had spent years forging with so many in the Dominion and beyond. Veidan shirked the responsibilities of being an Archdruid. Finally, he lied to a select few about his reason for leaving. He was not off to find a Mani for guidance, in truth. All of it was unforgivable. But it did not matter now. Veidan was gone. No one would have to see his face ever again -- or, at the very least, for many, many years to come. Similar to his previous venture out into the sea, the young Torena had decided to try and learn how to navigate the oceans by himself without the assistance or teaching of any other seafarer, which resulted in him being lost for quite a while. While he was clutched by panic the first journey, it would not have him once more. Now, he was fine being lost. He tried to learn how to live patiently. During this time, he attempted to quell the worries that laid in his heart. Loneliness, the threat of death, and unfinished dealings with those he left behind on Atlas. With nothing to do but row and look at the surface of the deep ocean, these thoughts frequently penetrated his head. However, the fear of starvation preoccupied his thoughts soon enough. The rations of food only lasted him a month, requiring him to find land within that span of time. With no map, it was difficult. Veidan was thankful for the lack of storms which made his journey easier, but he was late in finding an island for a temporary restock of necessities. He was ten days late of finding land to row towards, but it was upon the tenth day that he spotted forested shorelines. He split his consumption of water into scant volumes for each hour until he could plant a sandal onto the sand. Once the dinghy sunk into the damp, coarse shore, he took it out and dragged it further inwards. With a triumphant and relieved sigh, he downed the rest of the water held in his goatskin in the arrogant assumption that this new-found region could provide him with the resources needed to survive for the rest of his trip. The young mali recalled his last Naelurir trial, and how mediocre a job he did with handling it all. Were it not for the Jackal's assistance half-way through, Veidan knew in his heart he would've failed. The realization was hard to swallow, but now the druid had been given a second chance to prove himself. He stepped into the woods cautiously and undertook the trial that he failed before. His verdant eyes took in many sights upon that tropical island. There were once inhabitants. He found that a village of standard wooden shacks remained, the wood rotted and anything inside scattered about messily and worn down beyond recognition. His mind pondered as to why there was no one here anymore, but the druid reasoned that they must've simply died out. Stone effigies that resembled the feminine figure were dotted about the island, their facial features corroded by the weather over time. Common birds of gray and brown and yellow fluttered about, with a rare sighting of one colored with the palette of the night itself, as if there were stars held in its very being. There was a freshwater river which flowed through the middle of the island and meandered. Herbs of the common sort could be found, like alabaster leaf and halfling's grass and blissfoil. There were herbs that Veidan had never seen before in his entire life. He decided not to touch or use them. Pheasants and wild hogs roamed the wild, ripe for hunting, and there were few gatherings of trees that held fruit on them. Most were not bothered with, since Veidan could not safely identify them. As he went about making tools, building shelter, and surviving, the elf also took it upon himself to bolster the size and integrity of his dinghy by taking wood from the trees of the island. Cutting one down proved to be a grand chore, at first, until his tools were improved with a considerate sharpening. Seven years it was that that druid lived on that island, keeping himself sustained with the occasional periods of sickness and hard months dealing with the weather --and run-ins with boars, which he found to either be a pain in the ass some days, or a good meal on others. Veidan kept track of the days that had passed by making a deep scratch with a stone into the back of the statues. On his off-time, the druid managed to discover how to tell which way was north, east, south, and west. The 'ame learned how to farm, and got better with each year. He gathered together materials within his first month on the island dedicated to building two small shrines for the Mother and the Father, as well. * * * Veidan grew tired of his life on the island. He had done well to survive as long as he did, but the druid began to feel something lacking. Too many days passed where he would no longer be struck with awe at the sights the island had to offer, the excitement of exploration, the business of planning out how to capture his next meal and putting together snares, the anxiety of knowing that not every predator had yet to be discovered. Instead, thoughts of Atlas lingered. It had come into his head at sporadic times, but not as frequent as it was becoming now. Stagnation had come. The distraction of survival could prove to be the cure. A decision was made swiftly. Veidan began gathering all that he could onto his dinghy to survive another trip to an island that he hoped could bring him sufficient distraction and suffering to refine himself. He pushed the dinghy back into the water, exerting great effort to let it sail off and hopped in once it began to bob in the water, oar in his right hand. Months passed. Rations began to run low, and the volume of water left in his supply had reached a critical low. A few days after the worry sunk in, the panic that the druid thought he conquered crept into his conscience. The water supply was dry. What strips of boar meat and bundles of vegetables were in his inventory would only last a few days, at most. He tried to not think about thirst, but it was a fruitless attempt. He could feel the dryness of his mouth get worse and worse. Eventually, it became too much. In desperation, he turned to the saltwater of the ocean and cupped an amount into his hands before drinking. His thirst grew greater and greater, of course, and he stopped after five gulps, realizing the futility in the action and the detrimental effects it ultimately had. Hours passed, and the nausea born of severe dehydration wracked his head. Groans of pain were issued. The heat of the sun was especially unwelcome this time. Soon, Veidan risked falling into a state of delirium. But without any land in sight, the elf delved into the illness at a steady rate as he sweat profusely. The 'ame found himself talking on his lonesome for some semblance of company. A few insults flung here and there lucidly, cursing himself for his stupidity. Anger simmered eventually, and turned to solemn reminders of his mortality. He fought back tears quite well, even in this state. Regret made its way into his heart and enjoyed its stay. There were plenty of regrets to dwell on. He considered using the Gift to get out of this dire situation, but he merely waved the option. A fool lost at sea is not unnatural issue for which the Gifts should be used. Even now the druid held onto this principle tightly. After several minutes passed by, he grew tired of feeling and fighting. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. When Veidan came to, he was not sweating anymore. The dehydration had become terrible. Instead of panicking further he set his head back against the inner hull of the boat and allowed tranquil conversation to ensue. He musingly asked himself why he joined the Torena seed. For this question, he could not produce an answer. At least, not a coherent one. The memories of Damai and Ravondir and Melethre flooded his thoughts. He side-eyed the teal ilmyumier on his right arm, sighing. The question discomforted him, and so Veidan asked himself something else. Why did he become a druid? For that, he had some semblance of an answer -- though he began to ramble until the words became tangled and every sentence he uttered after lost its flow. Uncomfortable with the steady loss of his senses, he found a final question to ask. Why did he leave? And he did have an answer -- a simple one, too. Coward. The elf craned his neck to the left and saw a boat, much larger than his. It had crossed by him and was a fair distance away. The sails were white, and the wood was dark. What struck him as particularly odd was that the ship seemed to have an upside-down reflection, an entire other boat being suspended into the air and balancing atop the highest mast of the other. A mirage. With that, Veidan wearily turned away closed his eyes. His cracked and parched lips had grown worse in their condition, and the thirst in his mouth became unbearable. Talking felt good when it meant breaking past the sounds of waves and the creaking of the dinghy, but, in truth, it only gave way to more thirst. After a few seconds, he fell unconscious beneath the warm orange sky brought by the setting sun. When he awoke, the dinghy was still. He could not feel his body undulating with the motion of the waves. Opening his eyes quickly, he could tell it was currently dawn. An expanse of light broke past the horizon and clashed with the dark blue sky. Mild winds flicked his hair about meagerly. Delirium had faded away, but still had a minor grip on his psyche. Nausea struck him quickly, as did his thirst from the last few days. He weakly stood up and moved to leave the boat, only to trip and fall down into the damp sand. To be this lucky, there was no doubt that this was a miracle. Veidan laughed into the earth. For now, the Coyote Druid would continue to travel across the ocean from land to land, the elements of the blue withering away at his body and mind. It was a mystery as to how long he might last, but he would make an effort to endure.