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Lore of Legends

Discussion in 'Art, Screenshots & Multimedia' started by theKatia, Jan 10, 2020.

  1. theKatia
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    theKatia Selkie Jr.

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    Apr 29, 2017
    Female
    2:46 AM
    Asteracea
    Ranger
    90
    California
    Thread Introduction:
    In a game where the meta is emphasised so much, this is the corner to relax, get into the game, and focus on the overshadowed half of the game's name: the Story. Shine bright, roleplayers! FoxXD

    The purpose of this thread is for players to put together lore about their characters, to share the stories of your characters as they would be viewed from INSIDE maple world. This is the place to worship your character as a story character, and show them to be the cool or loveable people that you see them as. FoxLove
    Post anything about current, past and maybe even future characters of yours, even short stories are welcome, with whatever amount of connection to what actually happened in the game.
    (If it's OOC, though, best to post it elsewhere as a journal, even if it's retrospective.)
    Please keep it to serious stories.

    I'll start... with my undeniable main character.
    (Due to time restrictions, I will be writing only a small draft sample, and will edit it over time to add as much as possible.)

    Asteracea, the flower from Omega Sector
    Asteracea, or commonly nicknamed Aster, was born and raised in Omega Sector, to a scientist who was stationed there and a Korean woman from the Folk Town. As a child she would go to school with the children of other scientists or toymakers from Ludibrium, and a few actual toys. With the abundance of toys in her area, she quickly lost interest in such simple pleasure and instead grew quickly to be serious and independent, especially as the threat of the alien invasion began to be real. She took after her mother's traditional side and chose to learn to use the bow, showing great skill and going off to an adventurous life at the age of 15, going through Maple Island quickly and starting her career as a bowman officially.
    --more to come--
     
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  2. TheGoldenOne
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    TheGoldenOne Orange Mushroom

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    2:46 AM
    TheGoldenOne
    Warrior
    The norsemen warrior,
    The Golden One, The Glorious
    An example of prosperity,
    The Lion of Wisdom,
    He brings the clarity
    In heads of those who listen.
    Even Gods admire perfection
    Of Demigods complexion
    He fights against the traitors
    In name of ancestors, creators.
    True friends - praise the Elf,
    Who presents the verity and health.
     
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  3. kalash
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    kalash Windraider

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    Halcyon
    Oo interesting! I've got some story ideas, but it'd be quite a long story. Let me know if you're interested ;)
     
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  4. ahotbanana
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    ahotbanana Game Moderator Staff Member Game Moderator

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    12:46 AM
    I really like the idea of this so I've made a start. This took a big chunk of my lunch break and a big chunk of time I was MEANT to be spending working. Oops.
    Bits of it feel a bit ham-fisted so I may re-write bits.

    On the off-chance anyone is likely to be offended by a work of fiction:
    contains references to death, murder, child abuse (and crime in general) and is generally edgy af.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Divine metaphysics eludes even the most astute of individuals. I confess, even I, being now so close to the divine do not truly understand it. I suppose it is comparable to humanity never truly being able to understand its own purpose. Perhaps there is no purpose to divinity other than exerting your will. Of course, this is nothing more than speculation but I find there is not much else for me to do with my endless time.

    Despite my time being infinite, it still somehow finds a way to be precious, so I will try to keep this brief.

    The sun rose red, the morning after my wife passed. A crimson hue washed over the land as I stood there, vacantly staring out to sea, and as various clichés ran through my mind, “better to have loved and lost,” “time heals all,” “everything happens for a reason,” all I could think to myself was how every single one of them was nothing more than a comforting lie. No falsehoods, no matter how convenient, would let me escape from the bleak reality in which I found myself. My wife, who had supported me through a failed career as a poet, died and left me with a six-year-old daughter to care for. I would love to be able to say that now everything is said and done, I have found some modicum of peace on the matter, but there are some things that time simply does not help with.

    I did find some amount of truth to one cliché. For every cloud, there is indeed a silver lining. Following my tragedy, a new purpose to my life revealed itself to me: to care for, and to protect my daughter. A duty I bitterly failed.

    My daughter truly meant everything to me. For all of my flaws, I had surely lost the grace of the gods, but it was through my child that I felt divine influence once more. When I was with her, I found the child-like innocence and purity that I had lost years ago.

    Everything I did, I did for her, every risk I took, was with her in mind, and unfortunately, every mistake I made served to harm her. If only the divine had done more than smile upon me, had they granted me some clarity or wisdom, perhaps things would have gone differently. Perhaps I would not have had to endure the pain of encasing my six-year-old daughter in marble. Perhaps my sorrow would not have turned to rage and perhaps I would be telling a different story. No matter. The past is the past and nothing you do can change it. This is something I know to be true.

    I am, perhaps, getting ahead of myself.

    My name is Endris Fenchor, although I have come to be known as Fart Magic. A name I utterly despise, originating from the poison magic I was fond of in my earlier days as a magician; nevertheless, it is the name I am known by so I must accept it.

    When my wife was pregnant with my daughter, people would tell me that being a parent took unnumbered sacrifices. It was not until my wife passed away that I truly began to understand and believe that. The only way I was going to be able to feed my daughter was to forget my dreams and get any work that would pay. Foolishly, I believed that strength came from love and that my love for my daughter would give me the strength I needed to care for her.

    After weeks of searching, I finally managed to get work at a vile cesspool of a bar. The kind of place where men come to discuss their works with razors and switchblades under a guise of a dual of razored tongues. Windows letting in only the light that could that could pass through their filth. Dents, wear, breakages, each alluding to some sinister incident in that accursed bar’s past. If you have never been to such a place, I envy you. All of this, of course, being tucked away in a back-alley side street on the richer end of town meant the poet in me saw it as analogous for humanity. Just around the corner from a row of neatly trimmed bushes, where children played in the street and the notion of being hungry was greeted with a confused gaze sat a festering den of sin and debauchery. A place so foul it could corrupt the purest of things and surely had innumerable times.

    People are disgusting. They are beyond disgusting; violent, deceitful and cruel. She was not. She never was. She never could be and for all that the world threw at her, she only grew, in her own way, to be even more perfect. In her perfection, I struggled to deny her the finer things in life. Regrettably, I fell into debt trying to provide her the life I felt she deserved and the thugs and vagabonds I had borrowed money from decided they were not going to show me any leniency. Even with the money they lent me, I was struggling to afford day to day expenses. They thought they would make an example of me and I suppose in the short term, they were right.

    They came for me one night, threw a hood over my head and dragged me to some urine soaked dungeon. The smell of the place has lingered with me more than anything. It was almost indescribable; I do not wish to be crude but the only way I can put it into words is that it was like someone had defecated and then used the result as a substitute for the chicken in a rotisserie recipe. My daughter sat across the room from me, naked and terrified. I was forced to watch as they repeatedly raped, tortured and ultimately murdered her.

    This was a turning point for me. As I sat there watching, my rage grew, my hatred flourished and my vengeance was quick. In that moment, I had tapped into power I never knew I posessed. In an instant, the men all became engulfed in flames. Their screams ring in my ears to this day and it brings me the utmost joy. It was also in that moment that I learnt strength does not come from love, but rather comes from pain. The divine had given me the gift of pain. It was my plan to reciprocate. With nothing more for me in my homeland, it was time to leave. My destination: Maple Island, the birthplace of many renowned heroes. Their journey started there and so must mine.
     
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  5. OP
    OP
    theKatia
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    theKatia Selkie Jr.

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    2:46 AM
    Asteracea
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    California
    Definitely interested, this is the place.
    If it's so long that it wouldn't fit in one place, maybe post it in a seperate thread chapter-by-chapter.

    And Rich, I think you overdosed on dark right there...
     
  6. FeroxAnima
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    FeroxAnima Web Developer Staff Member Web Developer

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    Bishop
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    Somehow, your IGN no longer sounds amusing. MapleF4:heartbreak:
    Beautiful descriptions of horrid things. Looking at anything Maple-related with a dark, realistic (and yes, slightly edgy, but wurf) lens is a very new experience. XD

    Gujob <3 Lemme know if you need me to res your daughter, I gotchu.
     
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  7. kalash
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    kalash Windraider

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    Well then here goes. I need to review some names to make them match with the MapleStory lore somewhat more, but I'm not rly in a research mindset now :3

    In the Deragon setting, the evil goddess Eruvan learned a dark ritual that let her corrupt the eggs of the dragon descents, producing evil dragon like creatures called draconics. In place of their draconic fire breath, they have unique magical abilities. The first dragon descendants had scales of vibrant hues matching the colors of their dragon kin, but generations of inbreeding have created a more uniform, blurry appearance.

    The dark ritual that was cast on my egg failed, causing my draconic breath to stay, but turning it from a hot red burning fire to a super-hot green fire that instantly melts flesh on contact, but loses its temperature quickly.

    Ever since my birth I have been trained for war. Mastering my draconic breath together with many weapons made for killing; some to the extent of kamikaze killing. By the age of 2 I found that, while others blindly followed orders and obeyed every command, I always formed my own thoughts and had my own will. Yet, I felt a strong connection with my brothers as they were my clan, and dragon descendants choose their clan over themselves and even over gods. Therefore, I always trained hard and motivated myself to be the best. To prove myself worthy of my clan. We called ourselves the Jin clan. Only now do I realize how that's the name of the dark lord, husband to our bewitching goddess.

    You might think it odd that I was able to train for war so quickly and understood my position and my brothers so well by the age of 2, but dragon descendants age differently than humans do. By the age of 3 our size and development are comparable with that of a human 10-year-old. By the age of 15 we are fully grown and have reached adulthood.

    During training, I quickly rose above the ranks in terms of strength and size. By the time I was 3 years old I was sent to my first battle. With sweaty palms and shaky legs, I stood on the frontlines of a small skirmish. After the battle was done, I was filled with a monstrous excitement. I had slain many foes with my sword and melted a great many more with my draconic breath. Regardless of my own free will, I kept fighting in the wars. Not out of loyalty to Eruvan, as I quickly learned that we were only slaves to her, but for the mere fun of it. Of course, loyalty to my clan and my brothers played a huge role in my sense of duty, but if I am being honest with myself, I cared more for watching my enemies melt or seeing their blood leave their bodies than for my clan.

    Two years later, in a huge battle between the evil Eruvan and the Cygnus knights, I charged forward with my brothers. We quickly ran towards a party of 8 diverse foes, whom I later learned were a group of adventurers handpicked by Cygnus' helper Neinheart. The party consisted of a dawn warrior, two night walkers, a thunder breaker, a wind archer, a red-robed blaze wizard and a cleric who seemed to be a simple adventurer. As we drew near, the dawn warrior, thunder breaker and night walkers pressed forward as the wind archer shot a quick flurry of arrows towards us. Of course, the arrows did little more than illuminate the sky when I burned them with a quick nose-breath. I saw the charging foes falter after seeing with how little effort the arrows disappeared and the wizard and cleric started chanting loudly. The cleric radiated a bright silver light as huge silver wings seemed to grow from his back. As the wings unfolded, a deafening chant dulled out our charging roars and then suddenly it was dark and quiet. The foes that were just getting close enough for me to start melting them disappeared and the wizard began to float. Not a soothing float as you feel when you fall asleep peacefully. It was a chaotic, shaking float that seemed to hurt the wizard more than my fire would. Darkness spread out from him and creeped towards us. Filled with fearless exhilaration, my brothers and I pressed on and charged into the darkness, but as the darkness touched us the world stopped. Everything disappeared. There was no sound and no light. Even the sweet scent of battle had disappeared. I tried to breathe fire, but nothing seemed to happen. I looked around and tried to find my brothers, who were just next to me, but I couldn’t feel anything; not even my own armor on my shoulders or my broadsword in my hand. The world had stopped.

    What felt like an hour later, the darkness disappeared and I saw my brothers lie motionless around me. All of them, dead. What had happened? Why was I still alive? Then a blue sphere formed around me, trapping me inside. I couldn’t move, but my senses were back. I could scream and hear my own voice while feeling my armor float around my body. The sphere started to hover me toward the wizard, who seemed to have collapsed due to his own spell. The cleric was casting a healing spell on him while the sphere accelerated me towards them. I could now move freely, but only inside the sphere like an impenetrable cage. I breathed in deeply and let out a huge breath of scathing hot green fire, but it didn’t seem to even touch the outside of the blue sphere. As I drew near the wizard, I noticed that his once red robe had turned pitch black. He got up and looked at me with confusion, but then seemed to realize what was happening and a wicked smile formed on his face. The wizard extended his arm and started mumbling a spell. As my sphere touched the palm of his hand, my body went numb and I blacked out.

    I woke up naked in the middle of a forest. Dizzy and unsure of what had happened I tried to stand up, but as I put my hands on the ground, ready to push myself off the ground I noticed that my hands seemed to glow. No, not glow. They did not emit light as a common glow would. They were… saturated. Where at first my entire body had a dull golden shade, my scales looked like freshly polished gold pieces, only brighter. As I got up and the dizziness faded, I noticed how easy my movements felt. My body felt as if I had been in the training camp for years. I was flexible, strong and quick. I punched a tree and it nearly fell over. Looking at my own arms, I noticed scars that I had never seen before. I started to notice how my body had changed. It felt more mature and grown up. Looking at the palms of my hands, I estimated my age as roughly 18 years old. 18 years. The last thing I remember was the strange blue sphere that caught me in the battle between Eruvan and the Cygnus knights. I was 5 years old. Where have these last 13 years gone?

    As I roamed around aimlessly, trying to figure out what had happened, I learned that not much had changed in the world. The war between Bahamut and Beholder, the respective good and bad gods, was still going on and Eruvan seemed to have somehow survived the battle where all my brothers died. As I traveled, I learned the true pointlessness of battle and learned the error in my murder-enjoying ways.

    In the following two years I pursued answers above all else. I learned that the wizard that had killed all of my brothers was named Kilian, whom had not been able to kill me due to the failed ritual that was supposed to turn me into Eruvan’s slave the moment I was born. Instead of killing me, the spell offered my soul to Kilian and when he touched it, he got full control over me. I had become his slave as my brothers had been Eruvan’s slaves. The spell broke when he died, but I have yet to find out how he died. Some say he died of old age, but others say that he was never the same after that battle 13 years ago and that he is still alive. They say that as his robe had turned black, so had his soul. They say that in his pursuit of the dark arts he had found a way to cheat death and live again to live an unnaturally long life. Some even claim that he is immortal, roaming the world known as the black magician.

    Aside from learning about how my unfortunate childhood came to be, I also learned a valuable lesson about my appearance and my tongue. Namely that for common folk it’s easy to assume that a draconic is a monster, especially if his or her skin betrays a chromatic heritage, mine being a radiant gold did not help much there. Unless the draconic starts breathing fire and causing destruction, though, people are likely to respond with caution rather than outright fear. I did notice that when I tried to speak to them in my tongue, Moghrad, the fear crept into them. It seems my language sounds harsh to most other creatures and includes numerous hard consonants and sibilants. It did not take much for me to motivate myself to learn the common tongue after that. I found a way to erase my dragon descent nature, turning my golden scales into human skin, but as a side effect it removed my fire breathing capabilities. I found my true calling in doing good and wanted to join the Cygnus knights that I once fought, who had verified that Kilian was still alive and terrorizing the maple world. I decided that we should help, but in order for me to be a truly good Cygnus knight, I had to forget what I had done and what had happened to me. I asked the goddess Cygnus to erase my memory and teach me the ways of her knights. She agreed to erase my memory, but she said that I had to find my own way from there. I had to prove that I was truly good by not remembering anything and still doing some good in the world, only then might I be accepted as a Cygnus knight. Little did I know that she meant starting over completely.

    Don't forget to roll the dice...
     
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  8. akashsky
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    akashsky Headless Horseman

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    4:46 PM
    Akash
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    Influence
    Story of akash the corsair.

    I am the bullet of my gun
    Battleship is my body, Cannon is my blood
    I have crafted over a thousand guns
    Unknown to break
    Not known to last
    Have withstood pain to craft many weapons
    Yet, these hands will never hold a perfect gun
    So, as I pray
    UNLIMITED CORSAIR WORKS
     
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  9. kalash
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    kalash Windraider

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    This is amazing! Mostly the part about the chicken dish the fart magic reference xD
     
  10. Ryae
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    Ryae Windraider

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    Ryae
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    yesyesyes Asteracea, thank you for making a topic about this, I am far too shy to bring it up ahaha..! I didn't think there was anyone really doing this, and a lot of people seem to laugh if you tell them, but this is some of my favorite parts of MMOs. Everyone has their own way of having fun, so to each their own SlimeBlush

    I dug out a little concept page I had made a couple years back about a story I wanted to write about my characters. I have a NL and an islander, so I started writing about the night before Ryae would leave Maple Island.
    [​IMG]

    I see Ryae as very naive, innocent, and energetic, but also very brave, hardworking, and determined. She desperately wants to leave the island and explore the world, but will have to confront the fact that her expectations of the world beyond Maple Island are unrealistic and life is not always a big, fun adventure and can be full of tragedy, danger, and loss.

    To contrast Ryae, I kinda leaned into the islander theme and see Azalea as very afraid of venturing out into the "real" world. She is slightly older than Ryae, but doesn't have any strong aspirations or passions, and has never left the island. She is very content with her simple life, maybe even complacent. I don't see her as lazy, just scared of change or failure. She has to confront the fact that change is inevitable and a necessity of life. Azalea watches Ryae leave the island and continue to grow without her while her life remains the same, and is forced to decide what she wants to do with her own life.

    As the story progresses, I wanted Ryae to meet and travel with two other companions along the way, but they are more vague. A stoic paladin to contrast Ryae's bubbliness would be fun, and I had another idea about a mage that had the appearance of a stereotypical graceful priest, but is actually a vulgar f/p mage and a hard ass lol. Despite who she ends up traveling with though, I wanted to switch someone out for Azalea later as she grows and makes the leap to leave the island. Since Maple is an MMO, I wanted to explore themes of change, growth, and even loss. I love MMOs but just as IRL, people come and go in your life. Things will never remain the same, but change isn't always bad.

    I wrote a mock-up of the first chapter of the comic in 2018 before I moved, and now that I've moved across the country and lived here for a year, I think it'd be interesting to go over and maybe rework Azalea's attitude and fears the night before Ryae leaves now that I've learned some lessons in my own life. Sort of like a conversation with my past and future self haha. I hope that could make it feel more authentic...!

    I tried to summarize as best I could so I didn't dump a novel, but just wanted to add my +1 that us roleplayers/storytellers are out there SlimeSmile:heartbeat: If you read all this, thanks! Hope it can inspire your own stories! Cheers :thumbsup:
     
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