LeoRabbit99

preach

At the northern end of Curon was a boy, two old fishing poles in each hand. He was approaching the docks, and a few early-morning workers just began to set foot from the city walls to begin the day’s work. A fresh, cold breeze brushed by the boy’s scruffy hair, which was ridden with dirt and muck. A smile was on his face, and each step was taken with a bounce. With great care, he set either pole aside of the trail of the busy laborers. The boy loved to fish. He had a lot of time on his hands and he chose to spend it all with a bucket of bait near him and a pole in his palms. It helped him keep out of trouble and forget his worries. Nothing put the boy more to peace han the soothing sounds of the crashing shores and the exciting thrill of a fish connecting to the line. The boy waited, patiently. He watched the glistening sunrise, tossing stones and discarded junk on the ocean’s floating masses of ice. Occasionally he got up for a moment to stretch his legs--he was a hyper boy after all--but, his fastened eyes never lost view of the west. Quite a few hours rung by, and now the docks exploded with bustling mid-day traders, docking ships, and dock-hands. The boy remained, waiting for a ship to past the horizon. His brother had been off in service at sea for quite a few months, and before that voyage, even more months. The boy’s parents were presumably killed on the way to Arcas, along with another of his siblings, leaving him only the company of his brother. They moved to Curon when they arrived at cloud temple. His brother joined a crew so that they could afford the taxes of a slummish house down in an alley. Although the floors creaked, walls molded with fungi, and a few unwanted pests moved in with them, it was home. However, the boy was left behind, abandoned, as his brother’s duty called. He yearned for his brother’s attention the few times he was home. They often planned a day to share together, but time and time again it was pushed back. This time, however, the brother gave his word, after his next trip. Once he left, the boy closely counted the days of his brother’s return, and when that day came, he was ready. It was evening now, and a ship approached the harbor. This had to be his brother, thought the boy. The boy stood up buzzingly and ran to the vessel. He followed it from the shore as it approached the spot he was waiting at. The peons took their time docking it, but eventually, the people poured from it. One by one, the boy studied the men as they departed the ship, which soon enough spat out the last sailor. He watched as a man with old features exited--clearly not the face of his brother. The boy’s stomach dropped, and he stood in silence...

F

you’re a man of mystery...what’s your secret?

“I shall contend, and all shall fall to me in the end!” A certain pest of Sutica chants. “For I am Tihk the rhymer, eater of souls, collecting 15 be one of my goals.”

In his eternal afterlife of torment, Richard weeps from beyond the grave for his little button.

Unknowingly, Giles Curthose had survived all those years ago, living his days in cloud temple and being slowly nurtured back to health by the monks. He laments over not being with his lover, but blissful with optimism in hopes that in life, he’ll reunite with her one day.

At the top of my head, Buddhism, which I know influenced China, India and Japan immensely. They have somewhat similar characters and pronunciation. And perhaps not trim the quote, but give a little more context to your statement :P. But I don’t mind. As far as the essay, I’d prefer not. People can do their own research.

I could literally write you essays on how each and everyone one of these countries’ people are different in tradition and culture. And I’m referring to their lifestyles and values in ancient civilization time--as of now, I assume they’re still considerably different, but nowhere near to the extent as they were.

Korea, china, japan, india, mongolia, all different cultures among the continent of Asia. Although some are similar somewhat in their traditions because they live relatively close, they are by no means identical. In my opinion, more variety gives more customization opportunities for players coming into it.

o7

Man, as I said you really should run these post by me first.

Across the lands, those who knew of Richard hear of his demise. Richard awoke, his eyes lingering down his bed. Cradled in his arms was his two-year-old daughter, Marcella. Her brunette hair draped softly over Richard’s forearm as her delicate hand curled securely around Richard’s shirt. Her left-hand’s thumb sunk into her mouth as she snuggled comfortably. A warm, thick sheet blanketed the two. Richard hugged her embrace closer. Among all his creations, among all his feats of alchemy or the void, among all his accomplishments in the kingdom of Halsworthy he built--never had he created something so cherished to him as his daughter...so innocent, so pure, so vulnerable. Day after day, the man would ache of his past. What he did, the burdens were numerous and overbearing, but all of that became irrelevant when in the company of his girl. She was his most precious treasure, and he would violently protect her to his dying breath. She was the only true light of his world, and he wouldn’t let anyone rob him of it. Richard loved Marcella, more than anything in the world. The man had many potions to brew for his stall that day, but all that could wait. He didn’t want to wake her. He would remain until she was prepared for the day. Richard rested in his typical chair in his stall, Marcella at his feet blissfully smacking two knick-knacks she discovered among the discarded junk of Sutica’s empty evicted housing. The stall had good sales that day, and the weather was well for that time of year. Thus far, all seemed pleasant that day. Three men entered through the open archway of Sutica’s towering gates. They initially rushed to a few casual citizens talking with an aggressive demeanor. Richard’s expression jumped. Were they here to cause trouble? Perhaps they were raiders. He could not say, but he would take no chances, especially with his daughter present. He swiftly retreated into the store basement where he trusted that he could wait out the strangers’ visit. They noticed Richard fleeing, and quickly pursued. “Come out, and answer our questions!” One of them shouted as they breached the potion store. “You are trespassing on my property! Get out of my stall at once!” Richard roared, currently safe in his basement. “Answer our questions, and we’ll be on our way!” Another demanded, each making an attempt to bust through the trap door that led to Richard’s basement. Ultimately one of the three succeeded, and down they all stormed to Richard and his daughter--two soldiers, and a particularly threatening hou-zi. “Guards! Guards!” Richard shouted, the baby within his arms breaking out into a terrified wail, tears streaming down her soft face. Richard made a quick whack at one of the intruders with his staff as he approached closer, and it hissed harshly, an ethereal voice echoing from within the very wood of his staff. “Valah scum!” It shrieked. The hou-zi made an intimidating approach toward Richard, towering over Richard and his sobbing daughter with a growl. It didn’t take long until the Cerulean Watch arrived. The three invaders and Richard heard footsteps from the plaza above. The men swiftly scaled the ladder and rose out of Richard’s basement to lay eyes with the watchman. Richard set the child in a small chair. He kissed her forehead, muttering softly a goodbye as if it was his last with a desperate gleam in his eye. He guessed that two guards couldn’t best this trio, so he would give them his aid if required. This was his shop, and the thing he held most dear in life was inside--he would protect it. He followed suit, moving up into the store. The guards and the trio exchanged some words. It didn’t take long before it was apparent that tension was rising, and that the situation was on the brink of violence. Richard didn’t waste time. He put some distance between himself and them, beginning to focus to a spot nearby. His iris’s flashed a dark green hue, and he pointed his staff before him. From the ground began to manifest a human conjuration. First a series of bones cracked into existence that formed the frame of a strong man. The vital organs of the human anatomy suffused in the gaps of the ribcage and skull. A layer of thick muscle tissue grew from it, and finally, the entire body was covered with a layer of peach-colored flesh. The conjuration stood still, battle ready. The trio scowled at the conjuration with outrage. “Necromancy! Dark Magic!” They chanted, quickly rushing toward Richard to cease him. Richard and his conjuration fought back, but they were overpowered. Before the guards able to stop the trio, they hastily spurted out of Sutica, Richard in their custody. They took him to a tree near the gates and bound him to it with some rope. “What dark magic do you practice!” They growled, beginning to search Richard’s belongings--taking his staff and other valuables. He began to panic, thinking of his daughter. “My daughter, she’s still in the basement. Please, let me leave. I need to get back to her!” The man wheezed. “Nay, you will face justice in Belvitz for your usage of dark magic!” They affirmed. “It’s voidal magic, not dark! now let me return to my daughter! Please, she’s all alone! She needs someone!” Richard pleaded--though they would not have it. The hou-zi very roughly heaved Richard onto his shoulders, and with their captive, the group set out for Belvitz. Within a week, the four arrived at Belvitz where they immediately brought Richard to the town hall for his trial. They allowed him one letter whilst they waited for Duke Ratibor to arrive, who would be conducting the trial. He wrote to Hiren, the child of his wife and best friend, who had slept and conceived together, his best friend, who was murdered by the hands of Richard himself for sleeping with his lover. Hiren was the living burden of Richard’s betrayal that he had to live with. He was the son he never had, yet a memory of his past treachery. He wrote to him to make sure Marcella was in good hands, hoping someone would care for his daughter. He knew the people of the empire, and that their zealotry would blind them from seeing reason. He wanted Marcella in good hands if he didn’t make it. Not only were the false accusations of his usage of dark magic a death sentence, but if they discovered who he was, what he truly had done, his fate would doubtlessly be sealed. Richard had history with Belvitz and the rest of the empire during the dark times of his ghoul-days. Many folk of Belvitz did he slay--women, children, even the pontiff himself was not safe from his spree. Nearly 10 guards it took to defeat him, but always did he return to haunt the night-time roads of the empire. But not this time. His mortality was in his hands again, gifted to him by his the lich lord creator that cursed him with undeath. Richard thought of his days before he was a twisted, crazed monster. He thought of his days in Halsworthy. Peacefully did he and his people live in the East Peaks, but prosperity is always short-lasted. The empire came from the west from Haense and crusaded his city for not adhering to their wicked beliefs. Many years did it take for them to siege through, but alas they eventually broke in and slaughtered the civilians in a bloodbath, Richard included. As a leader, they gave him the honors of an execution in front of his people. Richard should have died there before his atrocities damned him to the darkest corners Ebrietaes, but those of the mortal plane weren’t done with him. Orsul the Lich Lord raised him so that he may utilize his skill in alchemy. He was forsaken, forgotten, shunned, abhorred, and forced to feast on the innocent flesh of Atlas so that he may drive away the maddening temptation of his ghoulish hunger, which in the end, always overtook him. He was broken and fragmented. What other choice did he have, but to ravage the empire and the church, who were the causation of his damnation? Richard heard the door of the town hall open as he sat in his chains. He lifted his head up and watched as the duke entered and sat at the podium. Ratibor slammed his hammer on the court. "I hereby call such into session, the case of the People of Adria versus, uh...did it have a name?” He turned to Richard. “Your name?" “Arthur Wood.” Richard replied. “A name truly fit for a heretic!” A man from the crowd called out. "I do not know my rights. I request someone to represent me!" Richard called out whilst he stepped forth. “You have no rights, Sutican!” Yet another member of the overseers roared. Richard let a low-toned growl slip from his exasperated expression, though he remained silent. He couldn’t lose his temper. He needed to stay strong, for his daughter. All that mattered now was returning to her safely. “The People of Adria versus Arthur Wood!” Ratibor said. ”I call the Count of Auvergne to the bench, to enumerate the charges laid against Arthur Wood as prosecutor of Adria." The duke announced. "He is charged with witchcraft, assault, and heresy, my fair duke." The man replied. Ratibor: "Arthur Wood is hereby then charged with witchcraft, assault, and heresy by the People of Adria. Opening statements shall now be made. Arthur Wood, approach the bench." Richard approached, lugging the giant weighted shackled on his angle along. "Please make an opening statement, man known by name of Arthur Wood!" Richard pursed his lips, taking a deep breath from his nose and several seconds to collect his thoughts. “It-” "Prosecution, opening statement if you would." Ratibor interrupted. “I was making my opening statement as you asked!” Richard protested. Ratibor slammed his hammer on the court. "Silence, defendant! Silence in the courthouse for the prosecution's statement!" “Old man, you took to long.” A man from the crowd scoffed. Richard bit his tongue as the prosecutor spoke, but kept quiet. Auvergne: "We walked into the city. We wished only to purge the spooks we knew were there. I will admit we broke into this man's stall, where he assaulted me with his staff. Afterward, we went back outside, the guard of Sutica rallied, we told them we meant no harm, they backed off, this man conjures some skeletal being and tries to attack us. That's more or less it. We defeated him with ease and none of his citizens helped him, so he is clearly evil--forsaken by his own town.” Ratibor: "Thank you, Count of Auvergne. The court accepts your statement. The court shall now accept and review evidence. Arthur Wood, do you have any evidence to present to the court?" Richard: "Witnesses--in their story, they left massive parts out. May I at least give a defense?" Ratibor slammed his hammer on the court. "Order, order in the court!" Richard: "You asked me a question?!" Ratibor leered to Richard. "The court has asked for evidence, Arthur of Wood. Do have any to provide? Further statements shall be made." Richard blinked in befuddlement. He had no knowledge on how these proceedings were to be handled. “Nothing more than they can provide--asking the witnesses that saw the event unfold.” Ratibor: "Prosecution! Please approach the bench and present any evidence for review." Gawain d'Auvergne stood from his seat, producing a single oaken staff as evidence. "The staff was used to conjure such skeletal creature, it is likely the catalyst to his powers." Ratibor: "What say you in your defense, Arthur Wood?" Richard: "It's just a nit-knack I bought from a magical goods store, years ago." He glanced over to the majority of the people in the room. "Likely bought before most of these folks were even born. I've had it for years, and do not know its creator--but I assure you it does nothing to harm, except hurl racial remarks.” Janislav: "Objection." he rose a finger. "If a staff is needed, he is likely capable of conjuring such on his own, but needs the staff for help in his devilish art--likely brain-damaged from birth." Ratibor: "Thank you, good raev Fellow. The court recognizes Arthur Wood’s lack of brain power." Richard grunted, but still yet remained passive to the remarks. He lifted his chin up, yelling out. “Objection!” Ratibor: “The court shall now hear the objection of Arthur Wood." Arthur Wood: "It should be noted that I can prove my innocence if a voidal expert is brought in." He looked to Janislav, then back to the judge. "One not biased." He paused, speaking after several seconds. "Definitively." He added. Ratibor took a few moments to think it through, eventually responding. “This court doesn’t recognize the void. Objection denied.” “Objection!” Another called out. Ratibor: "The court shall hear Alderman Constantine's objection!" "The defendant should not be making untoward comments about the fair citizens of Adria in our courtroom." Constantine said, a few of men behind him nodding. Ratibor: "The court recognizes the Alderman Constantines objection. Please apologize, Arthur Wood." Richard growled, murmuring spiteful curses under his breath in outrage. This was nothing more than a session to continuously bash the ones they deemed guilty prior to the trial even starting. Nonetheless, the old man reluctantly apologized. "I'm sorry." He said whilst biting his teeth, looking downward Ratibor: “We shall move unto the cross-examination phase. The prosecutor shall now question the defense, and then the prosecution shall be questioned by the defense. Prosecutor, begin your examination!" Auvergne: "Well, one question I have you lad. You claim this being you conjured was simply of magical power and an entity that did not actually exist. If that was the case, why did you decide to conjure up an undead? You knew we were there looking for spooks, and you thought it smart to conjure up one to stop us? It makes little sense." Richard: “I didn’t conjure an undead. It was a merely a developing human conjuration. I didn’t know what you were there for, and I was trying to stop the three of you from hurting me or my daughter.” Auvergne: "And it sealed your fate. I have no other questions, this is a pretty close and shut case." He said as he sat down. "He admits to being a mage! Scandalous!" Constantine said. Ratibor: "Thank you, prosecution. Defense! You may begin your questioning of the prosecution." Richard shook his head irritably. He knew nothing he said would help him. “This trial has been rigged from the start. This isn’t a fair trial. If I won’t get a fair hearing, then I demand a trial by combat.” “A trial by combat is for only those with residence in the empire. Can you prove yourself a citizen of the empire?” Ratibor inquired. “No.” Richard said with a stern growl. So, back to the trial…” Ratibor began, though Richard cut him off. Richard’s tension at last bursted, fingers shooting into a clenched fist. A dark green aura slowly encompassed his frame, and his voice echoed through the room with his presence. Many men arose, hands grasping the hilts of their swords. “This city...is a joke, this trial is a joke to you.” His eyes narrowed to Ratibor, pointing to him. “You are a joke. I will get no justice here. If this is where I end, I will die here with pride--and not licking the boots of the likes of you!” “Order, order in the court! Guards! Guards!” Ratibor yelled as Richard continued. “Allow me to introduce myself, duke. I am Richard Baruch, Old Court Mage of Halsworthy, Walker of the Afterlife, Creator of Monsters, The Belvitz Terror, and Weaver of the Quintessential. And Although I didn’t commit these particular crimes I am currently being charaged with, I salugtered your people like the disgust you are. I wish I was guilty of what you think I did, and that I could drain each and everyone one of you of your miserable worthless lives.” “Detain him! Take him away!” The duke uproared. Many of the overseers were up, either moving to safety at the edge of the room or approaching the booming mage with weapons drawn. A few passing guards busted in upon hearing the commotion, trailing closely behind. While Richard slowly moved toward the pontiff, lugging the weighted shackle behind, one of the guards butted his noggin with the hilt of his blade, and slowly, the man’s vision faded as he drifted into unconsciousness. He woke up to a splash of a bucket of water. It didn’t take him long to recapture his position. A heavy rock was tied tightly to Richard’s ankle. He was down near the river of Belvitz, many bystanders overseeing his execution. Richard looked to Ratibor, spitting in his face. “I’m not going to beg.” He affirmed. The duke spit back, cursing Richard off as he shoved him into the water. “Truly a blessed day.” He called out. Richard collapsed into the water with a splash, slowly sinking to the bottom from the weight of the large rock bound to him. Thirty seconds in, Richard began to squirm helplessly in the water. His oxygen quickly escaped. Within five minutes, nothing was left, except a floating corpse in the river, whose sinful soul was damned to the mercy of Aeriel’s wrath. Richard claimed his vengeance, but everything has a price, and the bill always comes due. OOC: Wow...giving up a character like Richard for me is like giving a part of myself up. I know this is just a minecraft roleplay server, but when you wait to come home every day to immerse yourself into a character’s world nearly every day for one and a half year, it becomes a part of you. I firmly believe in PK clauses in most kinds of deaths, so I do not regret my decision...but that still doesn’t change feelings. I played Richard from a mischievous, playful kid, to his prime, to a grumpy, senile old man. I’ve watched him grow and develop as a character. I’ve cried several times playing this character--getting so immersed with the character that you just break out into utter emotion. Make fun of me for it, laugh at me, but I admit it. Losing Richard is like losing a friend. I will never forget Richard, and all the fun times I’ve had playing on him. All the fun people I’ve met with him, and all the crazy **** we’ve been through with each other. Funny, how a make-believe concept on a mineman server can make such an impact. Rest in Peace, Richard Well Baruch... P.S. Formatting is a *****

((This is utterly awful, and no one should have to deal with this. I’m very sorry.))

Please finish this

**** man, you have my support. Don’t let doctors tell you what you can and can not do. Strive to stay unbedridden. Move, be as active as possible. I knew a dude who had very severe limes disease. Doctors told him he was going to be bed ridden for the rest of his life. He didn’t take it, and gradually became more active. First it was a walk around the room, then it was a walk around the house. Eventually he became a physical fitness instructor who was hardcore into martial arts and weight lifting. Of course, in going outside you can very easily catch an infection with leukemia if you go outside, but that doesn’t stop you from being as active as you can manage indoors. Good luck o7

An old man leaned back in his rocking chair with a baby girl in his arms, sound asleep. He began thinking of his old friend, Cyrene. After she passed down the crown, he only had one small moment to say his farewells. He gave her what he could at the time, a fine steed and a few concoction that would make her shoddy life easier for a short time. It was the least he could do. He remembered when he was at his lowest, and Princess Cyrene welcomed back, in despite all of his mistakes. She gave him back his home that he was shunned from. He wanted to do such much more to repay her now that she was at her lowest, but she was lost among the vast lands of Atlas. He merely waits, hoping that she finds it in herself to persevere and that they may one day meet again. ”I’m not a religious man, but my blessings are with you my old friend, Cyrene...”

Richard grumbles about something in his stall.

Richard mourns.

Good times

The local troublemaker of Sutica shakes his head, a soft breath releasing from his nostrils. ”The same people destroyed my home before...” He murmured to himself as he strolled the streets of the trade city. ”The church butchered women and children...” He moved to his house, brushing his rough hand against his old Crulean Watch armor, which he had been terminated from. ”Perhaps I’m not guard material, but I absolutely refuse my home to be wiped out by the villainous scum of Renatus, not again--not if I have a say about it. I will help stop them, or die trying.” He prepare his combat elixirs.

“Mmm--I’ve crossed paths with the aspect diviners in the thick forests of Atlas before, and they are not to be trifled with in their territory. Let them keep to their lands, and I’ll keep to mine.” A seasoned magi murmurs to himself whilst he reads the dangerous bounty.

“A good place to sell my concoctions.” A certain brewer of an alchemy shop says upon hearing of the event. “Perhaps I’ll ride there, if I can fit it into my schedule.”