The ramshackle cart jerked to a sudden halt. It was beautiful yes, but undoubtedly antiquated. Something that spoke of old wealth: the sort of thing that looked like it might have been expensive several decades ago before the curtains faded, the varnish peeled and the structural frame was left to rot underneath the unforgiving elements. Now, it was shabby, broken and wobbled on an uneven wheel. There was a glint from somewhere within the grimy windows as the curtain was yanked to the side, and a bitter face stared out. Mr Herman scowled out at Regalia through his small dark spectacles, or perhaps he didn't scowl at all, and that dismal expression was just the man's face- after all it was the sort of thing that was hard to discern from under his tangled beard and woodsman's wreck of white hair. His cart door slammed open with a thunk, and out he crawled upon worn winklepicker boots. He was a frail, narrow man who stood with the posture of a soldier. Back straight, head high. He walked like he had somewhere to be, and looked upon others with a judgment he had not earned. He despised cities, but appreciated the anonymity that a large population gave him. He came from a small rural town cradled by the ocean where the reclusive were the least known about, and so the most pried upon. He was used to nosey neighbors and children snickering "Mr Hermit" as he passed them in the streets. His eccentricity scared off his customers, and the boom his small apothecary had initially upon opening, whittled away as folks lost interest in the novelty of a newcomer: it was surely not his bedside manner that kept the customers coming back. With twisted fingers he plucked at his coin purse, holding what was left of his disgraced fortune in knuckles swollen by arthritis. He had the savings of a peasant and pockets full of wormwood, but his mind was sharp and his medical skills were keen. Surely some bastard here has a broken leg, a stab wound, a gut ache. He glared up at the favorable weather, the sun was high and a breeze tugged at the hem of his black robes. He picked up his battered suitcase, hoisted a black, moth eaten parasol and marched his way into the belly of the beast. Art by me ** Helo, thank you for reading. It's been ages since I've roleplayed, or played minecraft in general, but I've missed it a lot lately and have felt nostalgic for (delightfully) edgy Massivecraft roleplay, aha. Catch me on the account "Luthien" in server, I can't remember the password/email for my main Minecraft account that this forums account is tied to because I'm a got dang disaster. How ya doin.
just so you know regarding your old account you can tell mojang that you forgot the email and they'll send you a hint towards what it could be with the full one blurred out.. might help might not- that's what they did for me.
