GodOfGales
Legacy Supporter 4
- Joined
- Feb 21, 2015
1. Minecraft IGN: GodOfGales
2. Position applying for: Loremaster
3. Age|Timezone: It's a secret!, Central
4. How long have you been on Herocraft?: 8+ months
5. Why do you think you would make a good Loremaster? (Hint, Share some ideas you have): "My true passion is that of the quill," -me in rp form. It is true though, my greatest passion is to write. I hope to contribute this passion to Herocraft, my greatest digital passion.
6. Link to a piece of work you have done (Lorewise!): I don't exactly have links, but...
When I confronted him, he denied that he’d ever said it. In a desperate attempt to reveal the truth, I threw myself to his knees and begged for him to tell the truth. “Your crazy, lady,” he shouted. Kicking me off his knee he ran off. A silent tear slid down my face as he ran off into the distance. How could someone play with one’s heart so dreadfully? I recalled what he had said just the night before, that he loved me with all his heart. I had returned the comment. Now he insisted that he had never known me. I slowly walked back to my old honda, the eyes of the city staring down at me for the scene I had just conducted in the crowded sidewalks. I drove home, taking my time once I reached the silent wooded back roads leading to my secluded cabin outside of city limits. Quickly I ran indoors, hoping to forget the ran who had played with my heart in such a vile manner. I put onto the oven my favorite meal- baked spaghetti. After I ate the meal, I went to sleep, much earlier than usual.
That night I was awoken by the sound of a motorcycle outside the door. I rushed to put on some shoes and ran outside to see what caused such a commotion. Who would be at such a private place so late? The first thing I noticed was the motorcycle. It was an older model by far, nothing modern. It was very clean- new looking- but I knew of no dealer who sold such olden models. The man stepping off was well built, his black hair accompanying emerald eyes. That was all I could tell about the man before the lights on the old modeled motorcycle’s lights dimmed to nothingness. “Sir, excuse me but this is private property,” I noted. “Ah, I wondered if you would say something like so,” he replied. He walked over to me, and for some odd reason my body refused to move. He walked over to me, and when in close range I remembered who he was, yet I felt it had been so long ago she had known him. “Charles, what are you doing here?” “My love, why must you play so hard to get? I have loved you for many years, and you have loved me. Why deny this eternal romance,” he questioned. I was a little taken back by what he had said, the same conversation had been played the night before by another man. “Charles, that was so long ago we had that romance, I- I can’t even recall the last time I saw you,” I replied. I could see the silent, emotional pain in his facial expression, until it slowly faded into a look of confusion. “Sarah, madam, it was only the night before we shared our last kiss, do you not remember,” he asked. “But that can’t be, the night before I- I was doing something,” I answered. His face looked utterly confused and saddened. “I love you with all my heart. And I know you do the same. Please, when you remember, come and find me,” he said. I felt a surge of love jolt through me, but I knew not to say it, for I did not a repeat of the night prior. He hoped on his old modeled motorcycle and drove off into the darkness of the night, and I noticed the lights of the nearby city seemed dim. I slowly walked back to bed, shocked by the confrontation that had just occurred.
The next morning I woke up, knowing I must see Charles again. I showered, putting on my most beautiful, yet casual, clothing. I got into my honda, and began to start my trip to the city. The only way I knew to find Charles was looking for the motorcycle, that was unique. It seemed hours I looked for the thing, until I came across a house with it parked in its open garage. The house was decently sized, coated with a blue paint. I walked up the stone steps leading to the front porch, and knocked on the wooden door. A young man came to the door. I noticed he looked like Charles, yet his eyes were a ocean blue, not the emerald eyes of Charles. “Can I help you,” he asked. “Yes, that motorcycle in your garage, who does it belong to,” I asked. “That old thing, ah it’s getting dusty and a bit of rust in that old garage, but I can’t bring myself to sell it, so it’s not for sell,” he replied. “I’m not looking to buy, I just want to know who owns it,” I said. “Ah, I own the thing, but I inherited from my grandfather, and he got it from his father. Long story short, the original owner is my great grandfather, if that matters,” he replied. I pondered what he had said, silently accepting the fact that this was not the motorcycle I was looking for. Out of curiosity, I still asked, “what was your great grandfather’s name?” “Charles,” he replied. The expression in my face must have shown great shock at the name, for he asked, “Ma’am, are you ok?” “No, no I am not,” I said. “Where is your grandfather now?” “Dead,” he started, “died before I was born.” My insides seemed to scream of confusion, until I realize, it was an overreaction at its finest. It was just the motorcycle, coincidence at the least of this event. “Thank you,” I said, before I got back into my Honda for yet another ride home. I needed some rest after I had taken that too seriously.
That night I knew I needed some help, much more of this would drive me insane. I remembered the past two nights two totally different men had confessed their love and left, and I couldn’t withstand the pain again. I flipped through the old phone book I kept beside the phone I scarcely used. Looking through the many numbers, I found;
Dr. Johnathan Hancock
A 24/7 phychologist for your most dire of times. If you ever feel you need home assistance this is the most liable place for your oh so important heath. Please call our office number to schedule an appointment or plan a night visit ahead- or in emergency night visits contact my cell. The email is for those in between.
Office: 847-555-9374
Cell: 847-555- 0238
Email: [email protected]
I dialed the number and asked if he could watch over me for a night, to prove to myself I wasn’t crazy. “Hello, Dr. Hancock speaking,” he said through the phone. “How may I help you?” “Well, each night these… confrontations… keep occuring,” I started, “I need someone to watch over me, prove I am not insane.” “Very well,” he replied, “I’ll be right over.” I gave him my address and he was here the next hour. “Hello ma’am,” he said. “Hello,” I said. “I am going to go to bed, please watch over me and make sure I am not insane, but make no noise, no movement, I want to forget you’re there.” “Of course ma’am,” he said, pulling out a 6 pack of energy drinks. “I will be sure to watch over you.” He sat in an old wooden chair in the corner of my bedroom as I drifted into my slumber.
And again that night I woke up to another noise, forgetting the man, I rushed outside after quickly slipping on my slippers. I ran outside, finally seeing what had caused the noise. Two white stallions each driving one divine cart, but a luxary cart you never see in the current day. The man who stepped out was dressed in oldern clothing, but still he radiated a sence of power. He simply dropped a letter, and drove off. Screaming for his return, he never looked back. I took the letter and saw the ink was worn and faded by the dew of the night, another tear slid down my cheek. I ran inside and went back to bed.
That morning I awoke by the sound of Dr. Hancock awaking me. “Ma’am, I believe you’re quite sane at night. I will email you the payment process. “Wait.. you didn’t see that man, or the note he gave me,” I asked. “Excuse me ma’am, but saw nothing. You silently slept all night,” he replied. My blood seemed to boil with anger. “I am NOT insane,” I shouted. “Sorry ma’am, but I can not lie about the results,” he camley said in reply. “Damn you,” I screamed. I took the wooden bat I kept beside my bed for saftey and smacked the doctor so hard it left a crack in the bat. He fell to the floor, unconscious from the pain. “Do you remember what you saw now,” I teased. I took my shotgun I kept for the wild creatures that came from the woods, and shot him straight in the skull with it. I felt a calming sensation in the blood the leaked from the fragmented thing, and enjoyed the look of his broken corpse. I then came to my senses. What had I just commited? Why had I enjoyed it? A solitary tear rolled down my cheek. I truly was insane. I lifted the shotgun to my head, and pulled the trigger. Darkness took the light from my eyes.
The flames whipped from the ground, engulfing me in smoldering pain never before felt by the living mortal. Was this hell? This room was empty, extremly cold as so my head was getting frostbite, yet my legs on fire from the flaming floor. The single door, a large chamber door of iron, opened, and a pale, tall, lean man walked in. He had snow white hair, and crystal blue eyes. “Jazamine,” he asked. “Are you Satan,” I asked, “Leave me, please, help, get me out!” “In time, dear, I have released you before,” said the man. “I am Cronus, titan of time. The Greeks worshiped me, and I suggest you in the current days do the same. I rescued you 3 times before, and 3 times you die of the same fate. Suicide.” I tried to speak, but my lips were sealed. “You are cursed with the memory of past loves occuring in each life, however you never found a new love in this one. You will be reborn again, with this love being the doctor. A hundred years have passed since your last death. You will have your mind warped, your memory will be as if the doctor was your love. You never seem to understand. The purpose of this is to give you a special punishment then sitting in this room for eternity. And until you find a love for me, it will be that way.” He exited the room, and blackness came about.
I read the note on the way to the city spires from the hovercraft model I possesed. It was an older model, and it wasn’t the best. the note read as follows;
Dear Jazamine,
Your love is immortal, like the fabric of time. Learn to love time and its gods, and your repeated suffring will be undone, and you may live immortal alongside time.
I was confused about the note, I found it at the location of the historic wooden cabin in which a gruesome murder of two beloved souls had happened. It seemed to read to me for some reason in which I may never know.
If you need more examples just ask
7. If Accepted would you be able to commit to a Bi-Weekly Meeting on Saturdays at 5PM Central (server) time? Indeed
8. Additional info you would like to tell us?: I would just like to tag @strongholdx @Loremasters
2. Position applying for: Loremaster
3. Age|Timezone: It's a secret!, Central
4. How long have you been on Herocraft?: 8+ months
5. Why do you think you would make a good Loremaster? (Hint, Share some ideas you have): "My true passion is that of the quill," -me in rp form. It is true though, my greatest passion is to write. I hope to contribute this passion to Herocraft, my greatest digital passion.
6. Link to a piece of work you have done (Lorewise!): I don't exactly have links, but...
When I confronted him, he denied that he’d ever said it. In a desperate attempt to reveal the truth, I threw myself to his knees and begged for him to tell the truth. “Your crazy, lady,” he shouted. Kicking me off his knee he ran off. A silent tear slid down my face as he ran off into the distance. How could someone play with one’s heart so dreadfully? I recalled what he had said just the night before, that he loved me with all his heart. I had returned the comment. Now he insisted that he had never known me. I slowly walked back to my old honda, the eyes of the city staring down at me for the scene I had just conducted in the crowded sidewalks. I drove home, taking my time once I reached the silent wooded back roads leading to my secluded cabin outside of city limits. Quickly I ran indoors, hoping to forget the ran who had played with my heart in such a vile manner. I put onto the oven my favorite meal- baked spaghetti. After I ate the meal, I went to sleep, much earlier than usual.
That night I was awoken by the sound of a motorcycle outside the door. I rushed to put on some shoes and ran outside to see what caused such a commotion. Who would be at such a private place so late? The first thing I noticed was the motorcycle. It was an older model by far, nothing modern. It was very clean- new looking- but I knew of no dealer who sold such olden models. The man stepping off was well built, his black hair accompanying emerald eyes. That was all I could tell about the man before the lights on the old modeled motorcycle’s lights dimmed to nothingness. “Sir, excuse me but this is private property,” I noted. “Ah, I wondered if you would say something like so,” he replied. He walked over to me, and for some odd reason my body refused to move. He walked over to me, and when in close range I remembered who he was, yet I felt it had been so long ago she had known him. “Charles, what are you doing here?” “My love, why must you play so hard to get? I have loved you for many years, and you have loved me. Why deny this eternal romance,” he questioned. I was a little taken back by what he had said, the same conversation had been played the night before by another man. “Charles, that was so long ago we had that romance, I- I can’t even recall the last time I saw you,” I replied. I could see the silent, emotional pain in his facial expression, until it slowly faded into a look of confusion. “Sarah, madam, it was only the night before we shared our last kiss, do you not remember,” he asked. “But that can’t be, the night before I- I was doing something,” I answered. His face looked utterly confused and saddened. “I love you with all my heart. And I know you do the same. Please, when you remember, come and find me,” he said. I felt a surge of love jolt through me, but I knew not to say it, for I did not a repeat of the night prior. He hoped on his old modeled motorcycle and drove off into the darkness of the night, and I noticed the lights of the nearby city seemed dim. I slowly walked back to bed, shocked by the confrontation that had just occurred.
The next morning I woke up, knowing I must see Charles again. I showered, putting on my most beautiful, yet casual, clothing. I got into my honda, and began to start my trip to the city. The only way I knew to find Charles was looking for the motorcycle, that was unique. It seemed hours I looked for the thing, until I came across a house with it parked in its open garage. The house was decently sized, coated with a blue paint. I walked up the stone steps leading to the front porch, and knocked on the wooden door. A young man came to the door. I noticed he looked like Charles, yet his eyes were a ocean blue, not the emerald eyes of Charles. “Can I help you,” he asked. “Yes, that motorcycle in your garage, who does it belong to,” I asked. “That old thing, ah it’s getting dusty and a bit of rust in that old garage, but I can’t bring myself to sell it, so it’s not for sell,” he replied. “I’m not looking to buy, I just want to know who owns it,” I said. “Ah, I own the thing, but I inherited from my grandfather, and he got it from his father. Long story short, the original owner is my great grandfather, if that matters,” he replied. I pondered what he had said, silently accepting the fact that this was not the motorcycle I was looking for. Out of curiosity, I still asked, “what was your great grandfather’s name?” “Charles,” he replied. The expression in my face must have shown great shock at the name, for he asked, “Ma’am, are you ok?” “No, no I am not,” I said. “Where is your grandfather now?” “Dead,” he started, “died before I was born.” My insides seemed to scream of confusion, until I realize, it was an overreaction at its finest. It was just the motorcycle, coincidence at the least of this event. “Thank you,” I said, before I got back into my Honda for yet another ride home. I needed some rest after I had taken that too seriously.
That night I knew I needed some help, much more of this would drive me insane. I remembered the past two nights two totally different men had confessed their love and left, and I couldn’t withstand the pain again. I flipped through the old phone book I kept beside the phone I scarcely used. Looking through the many numbers, I found;
Dr. Johnathan Hancock
A 24/7 phychologist for your most dire of times. If you ever feel you need home assistance this is the most liable place for your oh so important heath. Please call our office number to schedule an appointment or plan a night visit ahead- or in emergency night visits contact my cell. The email is for those in between.
Office: 847-555-9374
Cell: 847-555- 0238
Email: [email protected]
I dialed the number and asked if he could watch over me for a night, to prove to myself I wasn’t crazy. “Hello, Dr. Hancock speaking,” he said through the phone. “How may I help you?” “Well, each night these… confrontations… keep occuring,” I started, “I need someone to watch over me, prove I am not insane.” “Very well,” he replied, “I’ll be right over.” I gave him my address and he was here the next hour. “Hello ma’am,” he said. “Hello,” I said. “I am going to go to bed, please watch over me and make sure I am not insane, but make no noise, no movement, I want to forget you’re there.” “Of course ma’am,” he said, pulling out a 6 pack of energy drinks. “I will be sure to watch over you.” He sat in an old wooden chair in the corner of my bedroom as I drifted into my slumber.
And again that night I woke up to another noise, forgetting the man, I rushed outside after quickly slipping on my slippers. I ran outside, finally seeing what had caused the noise. Two white stallions each driving one divine cart, but a luxary cart you never see in the current day. The man who stepped out was dressed in oldern clothing, but still he radiated a sence of power. He simply dropped a letter, and drove off. Screaming for his return, he never looked back. I took the letter and saw the ink was worn and faded by the dew of the night, another tear slid down my cheek. I ran inside and went back to bed.
That morning I awoke by the sound of Dr. Hancock awaking me. “Ma’am, I believe you’re quite sane at night. I will email you the payment process. “Wait.. you didn’t see that man, or the note he gave me,” I asked. “Excuse me ma’am, but saw nothing. You silently slept all night,” he replied. My blood seemed to boil with anger. “I am NOT insane,” I shouted. “Sorry ma’am, but I can not lie about the results,” he camley said in reply. “Damn you,” I screamed. I took the wooden bat I kept beside my bed for saftey and smacked the doctor so hard it left a crack in the bat. He fell to the floor, unconscious from the pain. “Do you remember what you saw now,” I teased. I took my shotgun I kept for the wild creatures that came from the woods, and shot him straight in the skull with it. I felt a calming sensation in the blood the leaked from the fragmented thing, and enjoyed the look of his broken corpse. I then came to my senses. What had I just commited? Why had I enjoyed it? A solitary tear rolled down my cheek. I truly was insane. I lifted the shotgun to my head, and pulled the trigger. Darkness took the light from my eyes.
The flames whipped from the ground, engulfing me in smoldering pain never before felt by the living mortal. Was this hell? This room was empty, extremly cold as so my head was getting frostbite, yet my legs on fire from the flaming floor. The single door, a large chamber door of iron, opened, and a pale, tall, lean man walked in. He had snow white hair, and crystal blue eyes. “Jazamine,” he asked. “Are you Satan,” I asked, “Leave me, please, help, get me out!” “In time, dear, I have released you before,” said the man. “I am Cronus, titan of time. The Greeks worshiped me, and I suggest you in the current days do the same. I rescued you 3 times before, and 3 times you die of the same fate. Suicide.” I tried to speak, but my lips were sealed. “You are cursed with the memory of past loves occuring in each life, however you never found a new love in this one. You will be reborn again, with this love being the doctor. A hundred years have passed since your last death. You will have your mind warped, your memory will be as if the doctor was your love. You never seem to understand. The purpose of this is to give you a special punishment then sitting in this room for eternity. And until you find a love for me, it will be that way.” He exited the room, and blackness came about.
I read the note on the way to the city spires from the hovercraft model I possesed. It was an older model, and it wasn’t the best. the note read as follows;
Dear Jazamine,
Your love is immortal, like the fabric of time. Learn to love time and its gods, and your repeated suffring will be undone, and you may live immortal alongside time.
I was confused about the note, I found it at the location of the historic wooden cabin in which a gruesome murder of two beloved souls had happened. It seemed to read to me for some reason in which I may never know.
If you need more examples just ask
7. If Accepted would you be able to commit to a Bi-Weekly Meeting on Saturdays at 5PM Central (server) time? Indeed
8. Additional info you would like to tell us?: I would just like to tag @strongholdx @Loremasters
