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      "title": "Lord of the Craft: Minecraft Roleplaying - The Story of Katherine Fisher, Part 1",
      "body": "<center> ![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmR7obCtuKpXyYexyDUXFPJb4WN5VzfKcDAw7ZxU98VGPh/image.png) \n\n# Hello everyone!\nThis is a series I am going to be writing in small parts. It is a story of a character I played on a Minecraft roleplaying server called Lord of the Craft. LotC, as it's known in short, is a huge community of hundreds of people from all around the world who come together in one dynamic, intricate, and amazing medieval fantasy world to write their own unique stories through roleplay. The story I'll be telling you will be about a character I played named Katherine, and will take you through the years of her life and the many adventures she had. This first part will be an introduction for the character and a little bit of backdrop for where her life began. I really hope you enjoy the story, because I really loved playing her.\n\n## ---===+===---\n\n# The Story of Katherine Fisher\n## Part 1 - The Alchemist's Daughter\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmfLUkHgK7pPADaDqaxp3grEd35ZwZZqFKA7czMpPpq45M/image.png)\n\nIt was a warm, pleasant summer’s day when Katherine was born. Her mother’s screams of childbirth had echoed through the tiny village of Riverhold, which was justly named for it’s position on the edge of the River Adria, which flowed with mineral rich waters from the mountains to give life to the fields of Lorraine. A duchy set in the eastern plains of the Empire of Oren, Lorraine had been won through blood and conquest, though many years before now. It’s current inhabitants were little more than farmers, a quiet sort of folk who did not cause a stir except in times of great distress. This was, for Liriel Fisher, a time of great distress, and so a stir was made. From the small keep which overlooked the village, to the far docks where the fishers and tradesmen posted their boats, everyone in Riverhold knew that the baby was here. \n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmRpkAcnqYgdebsdYjUZFY18h4CzXwZZqZFCXKaEzkHSyu/image.png)\n\nThe Fishers themselves had not lived in Riverhold all too long, having only taken up residence in the impossibly small cottage a year prior. The couple had been wed for some time, but they had no children with them, at least not until now. The father, Hendrik, was a sketchy sort with a heavy Waldenian accent, with a shock of wheat blonde hair at the top of his head, and the sides cut short. Broad shoulders and a wry grin made him somewhat intimidating, though not to his wife, Liriel. A wisp of a woman, her hair hung well past her shoulders in large, looping curls, shining almost white it was so pale blonde. She was a very fair woman, with glittering blue eyes that made her seem younger than she was, and soft skin that beckoned even the most loyal of men from their husbands. Despite all her good looks, she was a quiet woman, almost to the point of suspicion, if one could think that possible. The Fishers themselves kept no business or notable profession, yet they always made their tax payments on time, and were never short for grain or salt when it arrived. None had been inside their cottage since they moved in, and the few that had glimpsed past the doors would tell you of dozens of bundles of herbs lining the shelves and walls, hanging to dry and packed into jars and bottles. For whatever reason, they kept their business secret, though no one had qualms with alchemists these days.\n\nNow, inside the cottage, was the mother and father, along with a tall woman of elven birth. Pale skin and stark white hair framed a sharp featured face, which was long in appearance, and sad in expression. Nemir Valnelis was a mali’aheral, or in the common tongue, a high elf. She was a close friend of the Fishers, and though elves were rare in Lorraine, she was often here visiting them. She was a well known healer, with clinics all across the world, and she was here now to deliver the Fisher’s child. Liriel’s cries did not carry on too long, and with the practiced hands of Nemir and the abundance of healing herbs in the home, the baby was born happy and healthy. Liriel took the baby girl into her arms, her face flushed a deep red from the effort of bringing the child into the world, and cooed to her quietly. Over her shoulder, Hendrik hung in awe, his first born daughter now the center of the man’s world. The couple fawned over the child for some time, and came to a decision soon for a name. The girl would be known as Katherine, and already she shared with her parents a tuft of blonde hair, and blinked up at them with her father’s eyes, a deep fir green. \n\nThe first two years of Katherine’s life would roll by easily, like the wind on the seas of golden wheat around them, calm and soothing. When one imagines a picturesque scene, they could perhaps see the Fisher family. Crowded into the tiny two room cottage by night, and exploring the fields and birch wood forests of Lorraine by day. The family was happy, most of all, and all was well in their world. As with the most tragic of tales, though, these halcyon days would not last forever. Life in Lorraine began to change one day as a raven with unsettling news arrived in the keep of the local lord. The man called out to those in the village with a booming voice, the elder still fit in his age, and quite able. As the people of Riverhold gathered infront of the small keep, the man spoke, his voice not quite a shout, but loud enough for all to hear.\n\n“I have received word from his Imperial Majesty.” the lord called out, holding the rolled message up high, as if to prove his words. “We are to begin preparations for war against the Dwarven kingdom of Urguan.” he bellowed out, raising his voice as he finished out the sentence to ensure it was heard as the muttering of the villagers started at the word ‘war’. From the side of the crowd, Liriel and Hendrik shifted their eyes to one another, the squirming toddler Katherine fussing in Liriel’s arms. Without words exchanged, they turned and shifted out of the crowd, even as the lord continued to speak, seeming to try and quell the population with reason. The couple entered their home as the crowd continued to speak, and then they began to pack. By nightfall, they had loaded every last belonging they owned into a wagon. Hendrik and Liriel sat on the bench at the front, a bundled toddler in Liriel’s arms once again. With a crack of the reins, the wagon lurched forward, wheels and straps rattling as they began a long haul to the south. \n\nThey traveled as quickly as their horses and the babe would allow, and in three weeks time, they found themselves at the far end of the continent, in the desert nation of the Sultanate of Sharaff. Blistering sands, biting winds, and walls of beige stone that rose higher than any other in the world greeted the family. Faces of many colors and many races flowed around them as they entered the massive city. The Sultanate consisted of just one city, the capital, and a dozen outposts dotting the desert that made up the nation. The nation itself was strong despite this, and full of life. They had opened their gates to peoples of all kinds, rather than just the dark skinned Farfolks of the sands. This had proven quite beneficial to the nation, especially since it was one of the only reliable places to go once the Empire of man decided to set onto the warpath. The Sultanate had been a tentative ally of the Empire for many decades, but was hardly obligated to join in the fight against the Dwarves, who were neighbors to the sand nation.\n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmY5ygn9BoMeoVfhKAcPcp47C11DeNdHB4oWVBd23SELDW/image.png)\n\nHendrik and Liriel were able to secure themselves a sizable home of sandstone within the day of their arrival. Two stories rose up over the street, set upon a corner of two roads in the residential district. The height of the exterior city walls kept the wind and sand out, and had it not been for the oasis which the city was built upon, it would have been quite hot. Shocks of green palms and flora dotted the city, paired with the colorful overhangs and market stalls crowding the streets. The city itself was boisterous, with a near constant flow of people up and down the streets during the day, and the soft glow of lanterns and the distant chorus of drunken folk at night. There is where the family made their home for eighteen year, the entirety of the dwarven-human war, one of the longest in remembered history, a bloody fight which the couple outran. The gem of the desert is where Katherine would grow up, raised among people of every race and color. There is where she would watch so many people of the Sultanate join the ranks of the mercenary company Hallowvale. The company would fight in many battles alongside the human empire throughout the years.\n\n## ---===+===---\n\nIf you made it this far, I want to give you a HUGE thank you! I really hoped you enjoyed the story, and I hope you'll stick around for more. I plan on posting new entries in this series on a pretty regular basis, so if you want to keep reading about our heroine Katherine, please do give me an upvote and consider following my blog. I also plan on posting other short stories here and there, so if you'd like, give those a look too. Thank you so much, and I hope you have a wonderful day!\n\n  </center>",
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      "body": "# **The Shadows, They Grow Dark**\n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmS1dMP4q9edn7F22AxwmLusfb95HhtC6RaR5FZ9Xc5y4M/image.png)\n\nThe nights were so long and so dark, and how terribly alone I was. Yet, I was not alone. No one is ever truly alone. Trailed by our shadows all our lives, yet thinking nothing of them. How mistaken we were, to think it a simple thing, cast by the light of day and nothing more. I could feel them creeping in, drawing ever closer as the winds howled and whipped and clawed at the fragile panes. They were coming for me, those shadows in the night. The things that go bump and jump out and get you, how terribly real they were. I could see them moving out in the white snows, the moonlight giving them away in the tiny hours of the morning. Between flurries and branches they shifted, their eyes staring at me, hungry. They craved me, and I them, for they were death and I was life.\n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmS89CuoEfHK7ofTurdR6oR7rF8jpBrd1GinyF6JiR28Ed/image.png)\n\nAnd it was the stars which grew brighter by the night, and the shadows which grew darker. As I slipped into the late night and the early mornings, the sun came later and the moon stayed longer. The ravens called to me and through the scope I saw the stars which circled my world and taunted me with their mystery. And I looked, and saw, the shadows staring back. The shapes and forms and beings in the night with eyes like stars piercing the veil of the night sky, seeking to pierce only me. \n\n\nDemons in my mind, haunting me perhaps. The nightmares of my past and the emptiness of my soul filled me with the dread of the shadows. They hungered for me, and I for them, for they were death and I was life. It wasn’t enough, though, to hunger. They needed to feast, and I was ripe with sorrow, with pain, with the hurt enough to feed them all. The death of the only love I knew, the years of life without it and the loss so soon after finding it filled me with the kind of sadness that killed. The ghosts of my past ate at my mind, faces and names and places filling it with bloody memories. How had I ever thought I could handle such guilt, such sorrow? I had been a fool to seek the soul that now plagued me. I could not endure on like this forever, and I had no choice.\n\n\nAnd so I went to meet them, into the snow and the wind and the freezing cold which to any other would bite and claw and ravage flesh to blackened death. Onto me it did none but grasp and grope, begging for me as the shadows did. Only they would feast, though, for I was ready to leave this world. Though it would not be so, no, it would not end tonight. This was only the beginning. The shadows had a soul, a life, a seed from which to grow within me. They took to me like moth to flame, and struck me through the heart with an arrow blacker than the night. Clawing, tearing, biting at flesh with shadowy teeth and talons. Like ravens to carrion, they took to my despair.\n\n\nThey wrapped around my soul so tightly that I felt for the first time the feeling of suffocation. Drowning in their depths, I sank further than I ever thought I could go. For what felt like centuries this went on, falling endlessly through the black mooned night, surrounded only by the pinholed stars and my daemons, my haunting friends. They cooed to me, soothed my aching lungs, filled them with their inky ichor. They drowned one who could not drown, clinging to my soul and fueling from it. Growing, manifesting.\n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmVzoAJocyv9mDZieh2whzWbqPrdRa1Y1nXbwLEpaKohfy/image.png)\n\nAnd when I woke, laid out in the snows of the nameless peaks, I was not alone. It was there, it was with me. It had always been there, unseen, forgotten, ignored. No longer, though, would it be so. No longer would it be content to cling to walls and the floors. I rose, and so did it. I walked, and it strode as well. Manifest, it was there, beside me: my shadow. I turned a gaze to it, and it met mine in unison. White eyes piercing jet black, like the stars on a clear night. I looked into them and saw myself; my shadow was me. It was my mind, and my soul, for it had not stolen it, but instead reflected it. I was she, and she was me. I reached out for her, and she held to me, embraced me, comforted me. The pit in my chest, the pain in my heart, it eased itself to solace for just a moment. In that embrace, I was warm among the snows and winds. The blackness did not fade, it enveloped. I embraced death and the shadow embraced life, for we were one in the same, joined forever.\n\n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmX3kJTzi25rDEJm7RrMxttciN98iqCDQT2MSya5t4kJhu/image.png)\n\nMy shadow never leaves me. She lurks, yes, but she waits. She hides until she is needed, and I tell no one of her. They would think me tainted, they would try to kill her. She cannot be killed though, for those who cast light only cause the shadow to grow. She reaches where I cannot. She lends me her power, and I fuel hers. I give my life to her, and to me she gives the power of death.",
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