Medieval & Fantasy Minecraft Roleplaying

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Deceased = A Bastard at Rest =

Morbid

Lord of Altera
Evil
ThatMorbidBanter
ThatMorbidBanter
Evil
Depressing Updates!
~ Mental traits have been heavily updated
~ Added/Updated relations for Blorbis83 ToastySpam Electric and Samiwashere
~ Tweaked Timeline
~ Bird is now dead (RIP Bord)
~ Tinkered with new profile picture which took WAY too long to make

New armor from Jazzper coming soon, so tighten up boys and girls
 

Morbid

Lord of Altera
Evil
ThatMorbidBanter
ThatMorbidBanter
Evil
A Bastard's Dream
99693


Some things are familiar to the feeble minds of men, even if they know not why. Sometimes it is a haunting voice from a mouth you would swear you knew, other times it is merely a scent on the breeze which brings forth from the mind images of home. And sometimes, the it is a place, a time, in which you know you have stood before. A good place, a place of safety, where no matter the conditions, one feels impervious to harm. Thus was the case for a lost, forsaken young man who awoke in a white, bleak field on the lakeside. He knew not how, but he knew this place, down to the very bits of scrub along the shore. As the wind played with his obsidian hair, the man breathed in the crisp mountain air and began to look about. It would seem that he was alone here, with not man nor beast in sight to defile the still, white snow. As he walked, he began to realize that he wore the attire not of a knight or a warrior, as he was so accustomed, but a hunter akin to the days of his youth. Before this oddity could be pondered any further, the sound of boots in the snow broke the silence. Upon his turning to face this unexpected intruder into this desert of white, bow drawn, he was rather unprepared to find that it was no man which did break this hallowed white, but the small, sturdy form of a badger, with eyes bearing the blueness of the deepest seas. Slowly lowering his bow in relief, the pleasantly surprised Hunter stooped down to one knee, almost as if wishing to see eye-to-eye with this small creature. Once his knee touched the earth beneath him, the badger began its slow, confident approach towards its newfound companion, who let forth a small chuckle in return, scratching the surprisingly intelligent animal behind the ears in a show of quiet camaraderie. Then, just as soon as it had approached him, the badger sped off past him, racing down the riverbank towards a location unknown, stopping a good ways down the shore to look towards the Hunter, waiting for him to follow. With a slight smile and a light grunt, the Hunter took off down the shoreline, keeping decent pace with the stout guide ahead of him. After a time running, though how long exactly cannot be said, the furry racer came to a gradual stop near a point on the shore from which was visible a small island. Upon slowing down himself, the curious Hunter looked down, seeking to ask his mustelid companion what purpose this chase served, but finding only its tracks. Looking up, and following small footprints, the hunter saw that they ended not in a sturdy little mammal, but rather in the form of a tall, well-proportioned young man, his back facing the confused face of the Hunter. Softly advancing towards the young man, the Hunter took notice that the mysterious form's attention was focused entirely on the small island in the lake's center. One look in the same direction, and the Hunter was stopped in his path, for where once there was only a barren island of snow and ice, now stood upon it a proud keep of heavy stone bricks, standing as stout and proud as the badger which had been his guide. It was only in this moment that the sun caught the pommel of the young man's sword: A bronze badger's head, set in a resolute snarl. In awe, the Hunter finally looked upon the face of the young man, chiseled and rugged, set with a pair of powerful Oxford blue eyes. The face was not the Hunter's, but one which proved somehow dearer to him than his own, for this face showed the spirit of a better man than he. All was silent for a moment, one badger locking eyes with another, before the young man with the bronze pommel gave a small, knowing smile. The Hunter, in final understanding, returned it with a nod. He knew now that the time would come for a more worthy man than he to carry his tainted legacy, and in his heart, he felt peace with it. Taking one last breath of that clean, mountain air, he unslung his bow and quiver from his back, tossed them in the snow, and closed his eyes...
 
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