mybeary
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Posts posted by mybeary
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11 hours ago, nullific said:
Hey! If you install the plugin Essentials you can use commands such as /sun to toggle the weather. You'll need OP (which can be found below), I've also added a tutorial on how to install plugins.
You don't even need essentials.
When you're an operator on your server, you can do the command /gamerule doWeatherCycle false to disable any chance of rain or thunder.
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1 hour ago, Ruffen said:
You open Bing
My computer currently does not run Bing, and it has this weird Pakistanian browser thingy. I can't understand anything on it, and everything I type on it becomes weirdly highlighted. How would I seek assistance from here?
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18 hours ago, killergotrekt said:
hypixel
would you live in a democratic state and is poor or a totalitarian regime that gives you luxuries?
Democracy, don't want to live in an unfair country and reap all the benefits.
Favorite snack to gorge on?
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2 minutes ago, PandaChan said:
No
How tall are you?
2 inches taller than u
favorite minehut server type?
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On 5/27/2020 at 10:56 AM, Houlton said:
Being banned from Minehut.
Are you staff on any popular (10 or more) player servers?
FlagClash
Is Trent really a Tent or is he just a Turnip? -
9 hours ago, Ezekia said:
hmmmmm... $$$$$
cake or cookies
Why not both?
Odd fact about you?
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On 5/15/2020 at 3:41 PM, Ashley said:
26 seconds according to onbi after today
Legit try forgetting that you have to breathe in the first place.
Literally make a timer, start the challenge, and do your work while doing the challenge. I swear to god I'll edit this post with my time rn
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Gotta be real chief, this is concerning, but seriously not the place for this.
Player Reports have their own section, down near the bottom of the main interface. If you want to have a moderator check the report out, best to place it there.
I'd also advise changing your password, or contacting MH Support through your server console.
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22 minutes ago, WafflezAreYumz said:
I had a ton of credits and used them all to unlock tons of plugins but about a week after that, all of the plugins were free. It was 10000 credits so i was wondering if I could get it back and put it into other things.
Apologies, but those credits cannot be refunded.
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9 minutes ago, blobblib11 said:
hello, can some one help me and answer the question: how can i get credits?
You can currently get credits for free by voting for Minehut, linking your Fourms account with your MC account before you do so, or you can pay for them yourself.
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43 minutes ago, Migqy said:
Definitely not that frequently. Maybe once a minute, definitely not more than twice. I would usually try to stick with one message per page. E.g You shouldn't be able to see your previous advertisement before you advertise again.
I mean, I'm not usually one to advertise servers, especially if it's for one of my own, so this frequency is probably best and safest.
of course... if you're chrisily or Contribe advertising Sete or Elektrok... smh...
Once per minute is your safest bet, not only for your safety, but for the sanity of the community as well.
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6 hours ago, CosmicFrog101 said:
I forgot my email for my server and I can't find the email for the server if I have to server name is it possible to see what email made that server?
Normally, you would make a support ticket using your dashboard to help you figure this problem out.
https://superleague.zendesk.com/hc/en-us/requests/new
To answer your question though...
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9 hours ago, lilromeoz said:
So there's nothing against advertising in the game lobby but it says I was muted for spam. I switch lobby's every time I say something so how could it possibly be spam??
Chat from lobbies are all linked, all 14-15 of them.
When advertising, it helps to send the message around once or twice a minute, maybe even three or four times if you really want players.
If you advertise every 10 or so seconds, and it looks like the majority of your messages are flooding the chat, you will be warned and muted for spam.
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PERSONAL QUESTIONS:
1) What is your IGN?
mybeary
2) What is your discord + tag (e.g Chilkins#0001)
mybeary#1414
3) How old are you?
16
4) Whats is your timezone? (e.g GMT+1)
PST
5) What makes you different from other applicants?
What makes me different from other applicants is by applying to become a staff member, I understand that my job as a staff member comes first before anything else while I am on the server. Whether it be kills, killstreak, or anything which pertains to the game, none of that matters when there is an issue which requires moderation assistance. I fully understand this concept; I've dedicated my spare time to moderating Minehut servers for about two years now, and by now the general concepts of staff moderation sit snugly within a certain mindset while I play the game; the same watchful, yet competitive mindset I partake when playing PvP servers such as this.
While I may appear to be flamboyant in my behavior, note that I do intend to take my job seriously, and I can just as easily make the snap-second decision to dictate and moderate with maturity and logical reasoning. With such snap-second decisions however, one may assume that I might make a rash decision because of this sudden shift; however, just because I make a shift in mindset quickly does not mean I have to make a decision as fast as I make the shift. As I said, I do dictate my own actions with logical reasoning, and if something looks as if I may need more information, I will do whatever I could to get that information to properly justify my actions.
In addition, I am somewhat versed in Skript, and whenever I am challenged to make something using Skript, I find it with great joy that whatever concepts I have learned and invented would be expanded upon with every project I do. I can assist with whatever the server may need, whether it be features within the server or small, utility commands.
SERVER RELATED QUESTIONS:
5) How much time have you put into the server?
At the very least, I would like to say that I have placed at least eight hours' worth of effort into the server and analyzing the grind of the server.
I have around a 1.47 KD, and I have worked to try to analyze the overall balance of the game, as the game relies on RNG and a linear upgrade system in order to define its type of grind.
6) What made you want to apply?
Honestly, I think I kinda speak for… a good majority of the server when I begin this section.
The staff team is in a bad place. Yeah. That's how I'm going to start it off, with something as awful as this. I'm fully aware that this will jeopardize my chances at becoming staff, but allow me to explain my viewpoint, and how each of them can improve.
One of the aspects of the staff team which I find to be lacking is the seemingly absence of screenshares and the reaction to any appeals made on the server.
Now, note that this is a complaint which stemmed from my first day on the server, when I was false banned on the server, and wanted to appeal. Following the directions, I filled out an appeal, and even offered to screenshare to three staff members, including the one who'd banned me. Not one person returned a response of any kind, and when I hopped on an alt to try to ask a staff member online on what was happening, he told me that the owner, the one who banned me in the first place, handles the ban appeals.
This then raised the question for me, if the owner handles the ban appeals, why include in the instructions to DM a Moderator your appeal when I'd just been told that the owner handles the appeals? Now, this wasn't enough to trigger a complaint right off the bat, but this lack of a response is certainly concerning.
How can we fix this specific issue? There's the obvious solution, that you should check to see if they're being blatant with their hacks, and if they're not being blatant, then you should screenshare them, but an individual's sense of blatancy is often variable across every individual; therefore, we should take each situation, if it isn't blatant movement hacks or deliberately scaled combat hacks, with a thorough screenshare. If a staff member cannot see the first time that a player is cheating, and they remain suspicious throughout each of their fights, the person would then have to be expected to screenshare. Multiple staff members may accompany to help the screenshare.
In addition, I would like to suggest some tools that staff may use during their screenshares, because I have noticed that during their screenshares, it is of bare bones quality. I've observed staff members check only the versions and the mods folder of each individual, as well as the default Minecraft client, but I fail to observe them check the latest logs of their sessions, or use a third party application to assist them during screenshares. Here is a brief list of the applications that I use, as well as an application that I would suggest for members who intend to take moderation seriously.
AnyDesk
At this point, screenshares are then made redundant, because AnyDesk allows you to directly access a user's screen and do whatever the heck you need to check on there, such as potential keybind settings, running applications, and the such. AnyDesk is a powerful tool to use during screenshares, but it is wholly dependent on how good a user is at screenshares, and how reliable they are at doing so.
Process Hacker 2
Here, a user may filter and check for any last run applications. The user does need to know what they need to filter for though.
Last Activity Viewer
Same as Process Hacker 2, but the user just sees the last run applications in a large list. Not exactly user friendly either.
Paladin
Scans all of a player's clients for any potential hacks, and can catch ghost clients. Can detect Vape V3.
Does cost money though.
Another point I'd like to bring up is the activity of the staff; I understand that the staff are doing their best, and that they do have lives outside of moderation, but there are dark zones where there are absolutely no staff online and no staff can come to help.
The obvious answer would be to hire more staff, to get more moderators and helpers to help with the chaos, but in the case that this method does not appeal to you, there are apps an individual may download on their phone in order to connect to Minehut and send commands to the ingame server; Minechat is an excellent application for this.
Then, the question is raised once more, am I done with my rant? Am I done complaining about how the staff team is run? Yeah, I am. Now why the heck did I apply?
I've noticed the… sheer lack of staff on the server, as currently the server has a small set of staff, and with a large playerbase to boot. People could say at this point to get a bloody anticheat, but given with how laggy the server is at times, people could get false banned from the anticheat. I'll offer my services then, for the protection and good will of the players on this server, and for the general improvement of the server itself.
7) Do you have any further relationships with staff members?
I currently do not have any relations with any staff members, though Meezn had talked to me before regarding an issue on the server FlagClash; the issue has since been resolved long before.
Do you have any prior staff experience?
Here is a brief list of the servers that I have worked for, along with a brief description of what each server provides and what I did on each server.
LavaS
Dormant Administrator
[Junior Mod - Moderator - Administrator]Time Worked For : 7 Months - Paused due to server death
LavaS is a sandbox semi-anarchy lava survival server, with upgradable item generators to assist the player as they raid bases and climb the ranks within their clans. Players may purchase items using their own levels, or store them in the clan bank for added clan benefits.
While I was staff on LavaS, I moderated the server with a certain caution in every one of my actions, as LavaS was the first server I was staff on. I was equipped at the time with oneWhen I became administrator, I also had the opportunity to handle staff applications, which at the time I was terrible at, and tried to take the opportunity to learn from the owner and how he handled staff applications, in order to incorporate his considerations into my current application judgements.
FlagClash
Administrator
[Junior Mod - Moderator - Head Moderator - Administrator]
Time Worked For : 7 MonthsFlagClash is a sandbox hybrid of Bedwars and Idler-based servers where the player has to protect their flag from other players while raiding other people. Players may buy items using gold they have accumulated, and unlock special charms which provides them with a special passive boost in combat.
Currently, I help with the backend development alongside the owner, working to bring the next season of FlagClash in a new and innovative way. I also manage the staff applications currently, and am also responsible for moderating the server, making sure that the server is enjoyable for many other players. The only thing holding the server back is the excess amount of lag, which has since appeared when Season 4 released.
Bedr0ckPvP
Dormant Administrator
[Moderator - Administrator]
Time Worked For : 4 Months - Paused due to server death
Bedr0ckPvP is a bedrock box GenPvP server which features empowered weapons for the players to grind for. Bedr0ckPvP was inspired by servers which follow a Deathbox server style theme, which features PvP within a bedr0ck box
While I was staff on Bedr0ckPvP, I helped to forge and redefine the rules of the server, which had resulted in my instant promotion from a moderator to an admin. I had also been able to manage staff applications alongside the other administrators, and I worked to keep Bedr0ckPvP as enjoyable as it could be, despite how much I disliked genpvp servers at the time.
Groundmine
Previous Developer
[Developer]
Time Worked For : 1 Month - Left due to server inactivity and death.
Groundmine had been a GenPvP server which featured a linear upgrade system, which is typical of GenPvP servers nowadays. The server faced some abuse from the owner, and some immaturity from some staff.
As a developer, the only thing I really did for the server was to skript a banking skript for the resources the players had collected, providing an infinite storage for those resources. Players were able to bulk withdraw or deposit resources, and were able to prestige their rank from their XP levels, which they could also store.
MaddPvP
Previous Manager
[Head Admin - Manager]
Time Worked For : 1 Month - Purged from staff team due to repeated staff betrayals, full staff wipe.
MaddPvP had been a KitPvP server which featured kits which increased linearly in power as players moved up the ranks, placing a paywall behind each rank. The server is known for massive drama within the staff team, and frequent staff purges to reset the staff.
As a manager, I however did not have permission to manage the staff apps, so I had just managed the staff team, paying attention to what they said or did, and how it coincided with the rules as described. I also took it upon my own responsibility to bring up a point to promote staff members for logical reasonings in addition to activity, rather than just activity, in order to prevent future griefings.
TwicePvP
Previous Developer
[Developer]
Time Worked For : Two Weeks - Became inactive due to disagreements between owner and myself, felt overly oppressed by his demands. Left as a result.
TwicePvP had been a KitPvP server which featured kits whose power scaled linearly as the ranks got higher, becoming available once players accumulated enough gold to purchase their way into the next rank.
As a Developer, I had created each individual kit myself, the entire GUI which TwicePvP was based on, and the gold-upon-kill system for the owner. If I had wanted to, I could have said that I made TwicePvp all by myself, had the owner not placed in a ton of plugins which rendered some of my skript to be useless.
OnTheVoid
Previous Developer
[Developer]
Time Worked For : Three Weeks - Server died, left as a result.
OnTheVoid is a sandbox semi-anarchy void survival featuring upgradable generators to help the player gather resources. Currently, it has made a comeback, with a small content update.
As a developer for OnTheVoid, I designed the upgrade GUI for each of the item generators, as well as the staff core of the server. I also took it upon my own duties to moderate the server, since the staff were too busy with their own progress to moderate the server.
What I offered each of these servers as a whole was not just the feeling that they had another set of eyes to help the server become a fair and enjoyable environment, but also a disciplined and calm individual who can act at a moment’s notice, and would be ready for anything headed their way. Not only did I provide moderation to simply keep the server as clean as it could be according to their rules, but I helped to address key points which would improve the quality of life for not only players, but also staff as well.
I would like to address that I have had a year of moderation as far as staffing on Minehut-hosted servers are concerned, and that I hope to bring my expertise to the table.I would like to remind you that in addition to gaining an additional set of observative eyes, you are also obtaining a set of competitive eyes, as I place myself in the player’s point of view, never to hold myself as higher than any of the other players just because I have a rank. Just because I hold a rank with power doesn’t mean that I’m automatically better - it just means that I dedicate my time to make sure that a server remains fair and enjoyable for everyone that plays.
SCENARIOS:
9) Someone's reported for hacking but you aren't sure on spectating them, what do you do?
I will most nearly opt to do the following things if I cannot determine the report to be true:
Go on an alternate account:
As clients like Badlion and Lunar can currently see staff when the staff are vanished, it serves me no good to remain in vanish when I know that they could potentially see me. Going on an alt account allows my staff status to completely vanish and to place the hacker in a scenario where they are now aware that staff are no longer watching them.
Record:
From there, I would start recording my gameplay, and, in cases where staff would like to judge from a player's viewpoint, would livestream in a staff channel. Should I find that the reported player acts up according to the report, I would then save the video, and move on to the next step.
Screenshare:
With my evidence in hand, I would contact the reported person and I would displace them from the battle, placing them in an area where they may not move out of without modifications of any sort. A freeze command would be helpful, and I would be willing to skript a freeze command if it is needed. From there, I would offer them the option to admit, or to screenshare, with the reminder that if they leave during this time for any reason, they will be banned. During the screenshare, I would then show the recorded video to the staff, and then proceed the screenshare process.
If I cannot determine any hacks from the present time, the user would be excused from the current session; however, this does not exempt them from any future screenshares.
10) Say you catch another staff member abusing their perks, what would you do?
Typically if a staff acts up, I would attempt to gather as much evidence as I need from that occasion alone, and send it over to the management section of the staff team to try and figure it out.
11) A spam bots come onto the server, how would you deal with them?
If spam bots do come onto the server, I would attempt to mute the chat first, and to ban the bots from the server. This is a straightforward yet tedious method to deal with spam bots, but it is brutally effective. I would then suggest a whitelist of the server to protect against any new bots, but given that lag from Minehut can kick players, I'd rather just design a skript to kick any player that has not played on the server before with the reason that they were recently bot attacked, and they could join back in 15 minutes. With this skript, players who have played before can still join even when this player filter is up.
12) Someone's not abiding by the chat rules, how would you punish them?
If someone is not abiding by the chat rules, a verbal warning would be issued to them if the offense is not major; otherwise, a mute would need to be issued immediately. If there are multiple people not abiding by the chat rules, a singular verbal warning should suffice for all of them, and any offenses thereafter, no matter if the player was involved in the first wave or not, would be responded with a mute.
13) People are verbally abusing you in chat, how would you deal with that?
I really don't give a damn if people abuse me in chat. People choose to abuse me, I attempt to diffuse the situation by choosing to joke with their abuse.
Simples.
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With that, I will be available around the hours of 3 PM - 7 PM PST, and my DMs are open anytime for any questions or concerns.
Please do inform me of the results of the judgement of this application, when judgement has been made, and the expected waiting time has passed. I've heard that people do not hear back at all when they are denied. I do hope that this rumor isn't true at all, and that the staff team prove themselves to be above the rumor.
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On 4/26/2020 at 7:28 PM, Migqy said:
So you need to follow this tutorial here. After you have done that, you should be able to connect if you grab the AUX cord and attach it to a fork and then stick that in an electrical board.
Hope this helps, leave a like if it did
Make sure you have absolutely no rubber on you, or the Minehut Gods won't be appeased
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You can make a support ticket to restore your server's world at https://minehut.com/app/support
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On 4/16/2020 at 8:37 AM, MikeTheAngel said:
This whole system is rigged.
Elaborate?
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It'd been a pretty bleak night; the sky had been littered with smog and smoke, as shadows pierced and filled the sky with its demanding stature, as the vibrant city below made such a shocking contrast in luminosity. A busy, bustling city, there'd however be a force of shadows within such a city which fuels the bleakness of night - where the greed of the city's Mafia governed the underground industrial world. It hadn't been often that dead bodies would end up in alleyways, shot until their very essence had been completely erased from the earth; what was most worrying though was if a body had one singular hole which pierced straight through their body. Even darkness couldn't fill in that hole.
Within a secluded private villa, a man sighed, leaning against the walls of the villa, and looked around the premises, looking for any possible action at all within this dumb party. Noticing static in his ear, he readjusted his earphone, and sighed yet again, shifting in place. Being forced to go to this masquerade was one thing, but being ditched by your own partner while at the masquerade was trouble already. What a mouthful he'll get from Deeph if he returns to the headquarters carrying his partner drunk as hell... good grief!
He readjusted his sidearm, inspecting the craft of the firearm, and taking note of the loaded magazine for the fifty-eighth time; he felt back, and double checked his spare magazine count for the seventy-second time. He then noted the amount of times he tapped his foot since the last call for dinner had been called, but never delivered - one hundred and fifty three times to be exact - and just took into account the number of times he received static since Jackson left him, which had just only been now up to this point. He stopped, and thought to himself; he thought it to be weird that he'd only receive static only now, now that Jackson was gone.
Looking around once more, he decided to request an agent as they lazily yet frivolously enjoyed themselves to fill in with him; what mattered to him was not his job, but the concern and safety of his own partner. He then made his way to the exit of the establishment, and hurried outside, with a shove to the glass doors. The doors opening easily, the man checked himself out, with the alias name "Thistle."
Immediately, Thistle started to take out his cell in order to track his partner; however, he realized that his connection had been compromised. Fear started to seep into the young man, and even though he never showed it, he started to worry about the moment he had first received static in his headset on this very night. Something had been very wrong here.
As luck would have it, Thistle noticed quite a few dirt stains trailing from the nearest field. Thistle immediately gave chase to the footprints; if he knew his partner well, these footprints served as a definite guide to where he had been, in the case an urgent situation came to rise, had Jackson not been able to fire off a flare. All Thistle had to do was to follow the markings by the corners of the fields.
Left, right, right, left, straight, left, right; by the time Thistle reached his eighth marking, a gunshot had echoed in the distance. He paused, in sudden shock in fear, as his ears replayed the ripping, rending sound of certain bullet flying through the air in a whisper of death and sorrow; silent agony befell the city soon after. As Thistle longed to hear the scream that followed soon after, he hurried his advance as gunshots filled the air, knowing full well that if a scream had not followed soon after, they had either died from the first shot, or the Angel had missed. His eyes narrowed at the thought; the Angel doesn't ever miss a shot. His legs left the ground, as he turned the corner in a sudden rush.
He stopped, confused in his place.
What looked to be his partner Jackson and an unmasked Angel was standing before a band of what would seem like an unlikely team. Beyond Jackson had been Special Ops Commissioner Deeph Eriksson, with his arm extended with a firearm pointed at Jackson; beyond him still had been wanted Mafia assailants. Had Jackson disappointed him; then again, why were two Mafia assailants beyond Jackson and with Deeph, not lifting a finger to kill Deeph. Was Deeph not their target, despite Deeph having the capability to end the Mafia with his power?
Gunshot. Jackson screamed in pain as his leg buckled out from beneath him.
Thistle's eyes widened, and as though Deeph had been focused on Jackson alone, he took out his firearm without Deeph noticing; however, the other two noticed him, and began observing him as they reloaded their own weapons. Thistle quickly took cover, as he knew that out in the open, he'd be shot if he took a shot now, and yet, he knew he had to do something.
"Screw it."
Noticing an angle he could shoot out of, he placed the barrel of his pistol directly against a window, aiming in the general direction of the conflict; he knew that he wouldn't be guaranteed to tag anybody with this shot, but it was the effort that counted in his head. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Gunshot.
Immediately, Jackson fell to his knees, as glass shattered behind him. Deeph took a glance off of Jackson for one moment, lifting his hand to aim at whatever support Jackson may have called in, forgetting that whatever communication Jackson may have used would have been jammed. The moment Deeph caught sight of the broken window, he stepped forward, distracted by the sudden turn of events, and wanting to secure the kill himself.
"Don't worry, once we take care of ol' Trent, finally we will take shares of the stock of Minehut. No longer will we live in the shadows of the city."
Gunshot.
Thistle now stood at a flank, to an alleyway to the right. He'd ran from when he first fired off that diversion bullet, and he took an opportunity to reposition himself. He'd been lucky he was far enough for the sound of his footsteps not to be noticeable enough; any wrong step, and he'd already been shot down by now.
Deeph's handgun was suddenly shot out from his own hands, along with a finger. Blood trickled from his finger onto Jackson's head, drop by drop. Deeph quickly turned around to the source of the shot, and opened his mouth to say something, but Thistle was already talking.
"It's about time for new management. After all, there is a saying that is said."
Gunshot.
Thistle noticed Jackson's body fall limp, and knew that he hadn't the time to squander - he knew that bullets fired from the Angel's weapon contained a lethal poison. Thistle then started to walk forward, when he noticed a suspicious looking parcel on the side, marked with weird symbols and paint. Thistle sighted the four men aim at him, and he quickly made a hasty dive toward the side, taking refuge behind a garbage disposal. He inspected the package quickly.
Dynamite was lain within the parcel, with the fuse moments away from what it seemed to blowing the entire place to smithereens. Panicking, Thistle halted the fuse and threw the parcel at the men, coming right out of cover as he did. This was the zero hour.
"Out with the old, and in with the new."
The firestorm engulfed the alleyway, setting nearby debris on fire and wasting away every ounce of life except for the three men, who were blown away by the explosion. The explosion hadn't been as big as Thistle thought it'd be, but it was enough to create enough time for him to move in.
Thistle arrived at Jackson's body and flipped his partner's body over; and his face was filled with shock! The madman was smiling, knowing that he could have died from Thistle's explosion, and yet, he stayed on the ground. Thistle noticed the wound on Jackson's side, though his body didn't seem to tremble from the Angel's wounds. Jackson's gun laid barren on the floor, with the magazine of the pistol littered with pills and drugs.
Jackson knew that he couldn't fire his weapon, or he'd reveal that he'd suspected that the Angel would arrive, and he'd been prepared for his assault. Jackson knew that the risk was high, taking absolutely no ammunition into the fight, but it'd meant that the fight would take longer, because he couldn't pressure the Angel into shooting him faster. Jackson knew that the briefcase was a trap, yet he'd expected the briefcase to be placed in another location, where more destruction would have ensured.
Jackson stood up, with the help of his partner. Then, taking note of the handgun Deeph once had, he walked over to it, crushing one of the Deeph's fingers in the process, and picked it up, spinning the barrel to his pleasure. He looked at Thistle.
"Don't look at me, he's your mess, not mine."
They both looked down at the Angel. He was silent now, as the seconds began ticking down. Jackson seemed to be getting closer to the Angel, as the ticking echoed louder and louder in his head, until the Angel was suddenly at Jackson's feet. The Angel lifted his head to greet the open barrel of the handgun.
His face contorted in shock.
Gunshot.
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The briefcase was brought to the villa, as Jackson carried the Angel on his back. Thistle whistled, as he called the agent who was supposed to be subbing in for him to his location. The agent looked at him, froze for a second, then took the chance to come to him while his legs were still moving. Thistle handed the briefcase back to him, and ordered him to go home. Shivering, the agent hurried out; he'd been planning to get out as soon as he could anyways.
"You know sending this man out would be basically sending a dog back to its master, right Thistle?
"Yep. I know."
Thistle unveiled a detonator hidden under his sleeve, and counted a few seconds. He spotted the agent as he turned around, as the agent looked around quite feverishly. It made him almost too suspicious, now that Thistle knew that this one was ordered to kill Trent at the masquerade. Thistle gave a long, deep sigh, and closed his eyes.
Click.
He could smell the smog of the air as it rushed into the villa, as the sweet sound of serenading peace filled the air, along with a harmony of echoes. Thistle then walked over to the bar for a few moments, and came over with a few drinks.
"A toast?"
Jackson took the glass, and beamed.
"Toast."
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Original Story ||
Thank you for allowing me to participate in this contest and having not only this story be in the finals, but my first submission as well!
GGs!
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“What friends can one call those around him in a citadel of scoundrels and cheats?”
The establishment smelled of age-old pine trees and even older marital affairs, with the place bustling with patrons from obscure reaches of Eiress. The beer seemed good; one could easily take a quick whiff and become mystified, excitedly claiming that it smelled of old cinnamon dreams accompanied with a heartfelt serving of homemade salted caramel, yet it tasted of raw courage and confidence. A man could easily take a quick swig here before heading out to whatever ordeal he had to face later that day, and come back the same day victorious and ready to fight the battle with their asses on the toilet seat. The locals had once said to avoid this bar at all costs, should the tourist ever decide to roam the city on his trip.
The shadow of the tourist saw light in the tavern, despite the good-willed warnings of the townsfolk. He heard things. He liked to hear things. He didn't hear many things, outside the propaganda every country seemed to illustrate to their people. His ears peeking at every whisper about him, he remained lax about the dangerous environment, despite being unarmed. As he sat among the jeering of the crowd,he reached into his bag and pulled out a few papers. Precious documents they were, among an audience of beasts and predators, yet the beasts stayed their distance. Their eyes had fallen upon the ancient runes illustrated upon the accursed papers, then quickly jolting to the edges of their vision, as they knew at once that the man was mad. Mad to the point of demoralization. They knew he shouldn't be messed with.
The runes themselves weren't special, but the artifact associated with the runes told a greater, more sinister story. One that told of power, one that told of temptation, and another of corruption. They are three stories, yet the traveler could claim that they were one and the same. Each of the runes held whispers of such stories, but it was the wicked edge that bound them together, cursing them, binding them with their user.
Under such a wicked logic, it would make sense that any sane person would avoid possession of such a power, much less even thinking about it. In their own eyes, they already knew that the man was doomed beyond despair, his own existence being a speck of dust compared to the power of tempered, spiraling darkness. No one even attempted to rob the man, for it would be foolish to keep anything of monential value before heading out on a death wish; the assumption was made that the man had sold everything, and he wanted a drink before heading out. Out of respect, they left him alone.
The traveler saw a hefty man approach him from the shadows, his ebony skin blending in with the surrounding lighting, on the opposite side of the bar. He raised a hand, and almost instantly a shot glass slid across the table, almost spilling ginger goodness over his documents. The man approached him, his voice deep, but with the tone of a respectable person who knew the ins and outs of the town.
"Listen, do you want someone to talk to? We got a few fellas right 'round here who may look sharp 'round the edges, but I'm sure they'll be nice enough to give you a nice talk. Those runes are settin' a pretty grave mood right now."
The man looked up from his documents, his eyes, though tired, sharp and boldened.
"I'm just here for a drink. Get me the usual, please. You know you know me, Alistair."
Alistair readjusted his stance. He's right, and he did know him to be a stubborn goat of a man who was driven by promises of power. Said it'll benefit humanity, Alistair shook his head from that time. In what way would gaining absolute power and sacrificing all that being human and having its shortcomings benefit humanity?
"Albert."
"Alistair, I'll sleep tonight. I promise. Just get me the drink tonight. It's really why this place is booming tonight."
Alistair sighed, and leaned to grab a special concoction. He popped the cap, the brazen formula fizzing at the top. Eyeballing the measurements, Alistair drizzled the special liquid into Albert's glass. Albert's drink turned a tad red in turn, and glowed with a seeping spiciness to it.
"Thanks Alistair, I knew I could count on you."
Alistair stiffened. He was old, but he sensed something wrong with the scenario. His eyes narrowed, yet skepticism wasn't found in his voice.
"Any time, Albert. Any progression? At all?"
Albert took a sip, the liquid pouring into his mouth, bubbling as it touched his chapped, dry lips. Albert's skin seemed to lighten in response.
"Albert, you know things are getting tough right now. Jobs are harder to get, food is pretty scarce right now. Even my own establishment will be closing down soon, unless the Tadar does something."
Albert set his glass down. He took out a pen, and began to write something on his papers.
"More formulas?"
Albert looked up, in response to his age-old friend.
"A name."
Alistair peered over, intrigued by this sudden revelation. On the paper, in black, messy handwriting, was the name "Xell Fvlilan." It seemed like nonsense.
Alistair let out a small chuckle. Albert let out a smirk, considering his handwriting.
"Anyone could read this as Taffling, you know this, right?"
Albert let out a hearty chuckle. As ridiculous as it seemed, he could see "Taffling" within his handwriting. He knew he had to improve his handwriting, but this definitely bit him in the back. Perhaps he could invest time into correcting his handwriting in his spare time.
"Alright 'Xell,' what now?"
Albert checked the time on his watch, then looked around the bar. The windows had been barred up now, though they weren't when Albert walked in. Albert thought this was odd, considering that Alistair owned the establishment himself, and managed everything. When did he board up the windows, and for what purpose?
Albert felt Alistair close to him now, and he forced himself to take another long, hearty drink. Goddamn, if he was going to die now, then he should at least take his last moments in pleasure. That had always been Albert's philosophy to this moment.
"What now?"
Alistair's deep voice echoed throughout the bar. Everyone was staring at the two. The common rapscallion being harrassed by the drunk thug had even taken the time to glance into their general direction, as his mass was suddenly thrown across the bar. Albert thought their conversation was restricted to a whisper, but apparently he was wrong. Albert stood up from his seat.
"What now, you say?
Albert calmly set down his backpack, and began digging through his mess of a pack. Alistair, in response, placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.
"Don't you dare threaten me. You know as well as I am that I can overpower you. Fifteen long years have proved that. You have no magic."
"I know I don't, and I'm not threatening you."
Albert, in his search, revealed a hilt to the onlooking audience. The hilt immediately set an atmosphere of fear throughout the bar, provoking some patrons to grab their weapons in response. Alistair placed a hand on Albert.
"Albert, whatever you're doing, I ask you to stop, if not threatening me, you're threatening my patrons. Something's not right here. Maybe save it for another time."
"Alistair, just give me a few moments, please."
Albert revealed the blade. Suddenly, the entire bar stood up, and started fiddling around with their weapons, frightened. To plan to come for the blade itself was insanity, but to be in the presence of it, much less have possession in it. This exceeded all form of reason.
"Sakoor's Edge."
Albert laid his prize onto the table, it's darkened edge laying dormant, its runes stagnant and without power. It was about as long as the width of the table at this moment, yet the stigmatization still existed. The legend was true.
"Albert, you-"
Albert looked at Alistair with cold and determined eyes. He seemed to have done the impossible, to have held the blade without going insane, despite the many rumors surrounding the blade.
"Yes, Alistair, I have. I haven't touched it yet."
Alistair was afraid. Not because of the blade itself, but because Xell had the audacity to bring such a cursed weapon into his own establishment. What was he thinking, thinking that he could handle such a thing, and in a public place a well?
"Albert, please, put it back."
"Alright then, just wanted to-"
Albert coughed out blood. Someone had snuck up behind him and stabbed him, seeming to be a drunk of all people. In response, Albert tried to twist around to punch his attacker, but the drunk acted first, using a rope to bind Albert to the bar. He spoke.
"You don't deserve such power. You're a child playing with a guillotine. It does not belong to you."
The stranger turned to grab the blade, but Alistair used his ability that was the tavern itself to change the shape of the table to push it to Albert's side. Albert, being immobilized, tried to adjust his head to push it to his hands. The blade, in its newfound velocity, fell, and stabbed Albert in the palm of his right hand.
"No!"
Albert screamed, and immediately his existence was warped into the crystal of the blade, the runes glowing now with a foreign power. The Edge, now brimming with its power, let out a short burst of power, offsetting the foundation of the bar in a supernova of shadow and light. The light from the candle lights were suddenly sucked out, and pure darkness burned in its place, and dissipated shortly after. Whispers began to echo from the blade.
Despite taking cover from the explosion, gashes had formed on Alistair's body. He was deeply wounded, and was in critical condition, his eyes almost fading into white. The bar was equally damaged as well, with scrapes and gashes alongside the walls of the building.
"G-godammit Albert!"
He argued with himself whether he should follow into the darkness, or stay and seek help, with whatever life force he had left. Alistair looked around.
The establishment was on fire; he himself felt himself burning, but he refused to believe that the establishment itself was burning down. His patrons were also nearing death, with a table embedded into two of his patrons, as they yell in despair. He can see a body that has completely penetrated another, and their tendrils intertwined. It was madness, it was entropy, it was insanity. How could Albert ever have thought to conceive such a weapon? Whatever power Albert unleashed, it was not fit for this world.
He felt his life nearing an end, yet he felt like he needed to make a decision now. He reached out.
And he touched the blade.
The documents flew in the midst of the chaos, swept by the winds of despair.
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Life is Pain. Pain is Power. Power is Life.
To exist is to listen. To listen is to be frightened. To be frightened is to exist.
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Two individuals stood at a standstill, as shadows under the moonlight hid their presence, away from the police, away from the city, away from righteousness. A suitcase lay between the the two, untouched and pristine. A single pistol lay between the two, both representing the two sides of the city in darkness. Where the vigilant Jackson of the 85th Division stood, his shadow concealed his secondary dagger: An empty pistol. He'd brought no ammunition with him, yet ammunition is what he needs most desperately at this moment. Jackson kept his eyes on the actions of the other man, attempting to predict his movements, his play, and his strategy. The other man showed no sign of moving, yet he returned the stare.
Jackson, in his navy blue tuxedo, had just come from an evening masquerade, where he was secretly ordered by Secret Ops Commissioner Deeph Eriksson to protect the President of the Guild of Minehut Servers, Trent. As he had been suddenly called from his position to go on the offensive, in favor of recovering an asset of the government as well as Intel on the city's Mafia, he rushed to the scene, grabbing a pistol on the way. He'd only realized now that the pistol was empty, yet his hand still instinctively hovered over it passively, waiting to anticipate his opponent's next move.
Why was Jackson even here in the first place, when he could have stayed behind and enjoyed himself at the masquerade? He'd clearly worked hard enough; he'd risked his life disarming bombs, intercepting hack attempts, interrupting smuggler deals along the portside, and even saving people from peril. He could have taken a long deserved drink from a good shot of wine, coupled with grape juice, in celebration of his ten years working for the government. He shook his head.
The man was dressed completely in black except for a bright yellow tie. He was none other than The Angel, an extremely deadly and crude hitman. Other than his dashing looks which, the man had also possessed a weapon suited not only suited in the art of death, but also in the art of agony and suffering. He snickered gleefully, as he loaded a spiral-shaped shell into the mechanisms of his weapon. The weapon hummed with a sweet tune, hissing against the cold of the night.
The hiss of the machine reminded The Angel of what would happen if he failed now, especially with such a weapon at hand, and with such sensitive information being revealed to the government. Oh, what terrible things the Mafia would do to the poor man, as a result of his failure, as a result of his incompetence, and as a result of his uselessness. He squinted; he remembered those times since he was a kid, being ruthlessly tortured by those who dictated his lives. He recognized Jackson, and judging from his stance, he should be able to make easy work out of him.
Jackson may have been the first person to advance, but the Angel took his first move, firing off a large shell straight at the enemy. Jackson, in a quick reaction, attempted to twist away from the shell's velocity, leaning towards the left in order to save himself, but he skewered his right side in return, a risky move made by the bold individual. He forced himself to fall onto the briefcase, the handgun on the briefcase digging into his side. Jackson knew that the Angel, though a mercenary, would still kill him at this point, but he knew that he wouldn't touch the briefcase otherwise.
He'd been wrong; the moment Jackson's body landed onto the suitcase, the Angel was already reloading his weapon and heading over to the suitcase; Jackson could sense his footsteps. From underneath his body, he drew the handgun from out of his side and readied it; it felt full. Whoever loaded this thing knew that there was going to be conflict over the intel. Jackson made a split decision, then he loaded the barrel of the handgun once more. Everything depended on this one moment.
In a sudden instant, Jackson leaped from where he was, aiming to shoot his perpetrator down as he flung himself upwards, but he'd calculated too late; in a moment's matter, he felt a sudden force bring him to the ground and pound the handgun out of his hands, pain surging through his body. Jackson sensed that he was going to die at this moment.
"Number 85. It's been a while."
At that moment, Jackson looked up, only to find himself face to face with the steaming barrel of the Angel's weapon. His eyes became wide in shock, as he felt like he couldn't do anything at this moment-
But wait, there was yet one thing he hadn't been daring enough to do.
With a push of his other arm, Jackson propelled his upper body upward, allowing his head to be above the barrel of the weapon. The Angel thought to correct him in this sudden surge of energy, but Jackson bit down on the barrel, and shook the weapon off his grip with a shake of his head. The Angel punched Jackson, sending him to the ground once more. Jackson rolled onto his side, and revealed his own pistol.
It had one shot in the magazine.
Bang.
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"Well, well, well. Not bad, after ten years."
A red color of paint suddenly dyed the Angel's uniform, as the Angel then brutally stomped on Jackson's head, causing blunt trauma to his skull. In turn, Jackson spun upon the ground in order to trip the Angel, in an attempt to get him off his arm. The hitman fell, and Jackson immediately took the opportunity to rise and to give him a sudden kick on the shins. He won't be getting up, but he'll still be conscious.
"Michael, I'd like you to reconsider your decision. I get your lifestyle, being a hitman and all, but you should come back."
Michael groveled on the floor. Jackson had always been a good shot, but his close combat skills had been lacking, back when the two of them worked together. They'd been the perfect duo, with Michael on the offensive, and Jackson right behind him, quickly eliminating any threats on the Horizon. When Jackson left, Michael felt without a soulmate - he'd felt as if the only one compatible with him was truly gone.
As if.
A sudden beep echoed throughout the alleyway, as a soft ticking sound set the stage for the endgame. Jackson looked around with a cold sweat - he was never informed that the Mafia were capable of creating bombs. He went over to Mike, the Angel, and examined his body freely, without the Angel interfering with his actions. The Angel was grinning throughout this time.
"Jackson, you're right. I should reconsider my decision - I never needed you back."
Jackson, frustrated that he didn't find anything on Mike, searched the perimeter, trying to listen in on what the bomb could possibly be. Could it be near the few bags of garbage lying around in the corner, or could it be hidden away inside a box? Jackson panicked until he backed up onto the briefcase, from where he heard a sudden beep.
"Listen, Jackson, do you hear that? The sound of fear, sinking into your very soul?"
Jackson looked back, at the briefcase he'd just stepped over, and realized that the briefcase was the bomb. Had he been duped from the anonymous tip which led him to believe that he'd be able to recover important government assets and be able to gather intel on the city's Mafia; but then again, why was Michael here in the first place, working for the Mafia, and here at this very location? Should he have a job somewhere else, perhaps at the Masquerade party itself?
The idea struck him suddenly; had this all been a diversion? Had it all been a plot to frighten Jackson out of his position at the party and to isolate him in one location, so that the President could be targeted at last? Jackson looked at his watch - he had around seven minutes to head over to the party now and to prevent the President from exposing himself.
He'd started to go off in a sprint when the Angel called out for him in a jeering manner, as if he wanted more. Jackson turned around furiously.
"Look, Jackson, as long as that bomb exists, it doesn't matter what you do. Do you realize where we are, and where the party is located?"
It dawned on the man; the location, the setup, everything. The anonymous tip given to him had been a setup, and the President was already in immediate danger, and yet, Jackson knew he couldn't leave the bomb; they were located too close to the city's oil foundries. Jackson didn't know the size of the explosion, but if one of the buildings nearby caught fire, a third of the entire city would perish in a surge of fire and flame. Hell would run within the city itself.
Jackson looked around for the spare handgun, when he spotted it far out of his reach, in the distance. He started to run, when he sighted the handgun suddenly sliding into the shadows. He was not alone with Michael.
Three figures emerged from the darkness, each grinning with a feeling of accomplishment. Jackson knew them well - they were his former subordinates, after all, but the one in the middle struck him as most surprising; he was someone he knew very well.
The one on the left spoke out first.
"Jackson, ol' pal. Aren'tcha gonna give us a good ol' hug? We missed you so much, so I made you a classic bomb to celebrate! Ain't that right, Richie?"
Richie merely shrugged. It wasn't like him to care much for the man who betrayed the Mafia and turn, of all people, him into the police. It'd been hell getting Richie out of prison, and Richie's mind was now filled with vengeance.
Of all people though, why would this sneaky fox of a man know how to build a bomb, especially a man known to him only as Kailum. Jackson hadn't been too close with him, but he knew that the man's morals hadn't come close to being righteous; Jackson knew that if he learnt how to build a bomb, the entire city would definitely go down, and that vision had now become a nightmare for him.
The four surrounded him, with the one in the middle reloading the handgun casually and pointing it towards Jackson, a cruel glint in his eye. Jackson's eyes opened wide in horror.
It had been Deeph Eriksson who'd aimed the crescent inscribed handgun at Jackson, with such an expression, so devoid of emotion that Jackson had never seen from him before. Jackson froze in place, too terrified to do anything. Then, with a slight cackle to his voice, Deeph spoke.
"Jackson, I do hope you do understand that this is just business in the Mafia. Governments can be as easily swayed as the payments you exchanged."
Gunshot. Jackson screamed in pain as his leg buckled out from beneath him.
"My newest subordinate did well in fooling you, even though he had been raised to his position by someone not of the Mafia. We would have to hunt him down."
Gunshot. Jackson fell down to his knees.
"Don't worry, once we take care of ol' Trent, finally we will take shares of the stock of Minehut. No longer will we live in the shadows of the city."
Gunshot. Jackson's vision began to blur, a warm, sticky substance trickling down his face. His vision turned began to fade, dark layers of crimson blocking his view.
"It's about time for new management. After all, there is a saying that is said."
Gunshot. Jackson fell to the ground completely, his body limp and cold on the concrete floor..
"Out with the old, and in with the new."
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Negative Space -
Beyond the heavens within the stars in the night sky, there had existed some thirty two and seven hundreds of ethereal kingdoms and democracies to behold, all with their pretentious attentions all set at a simple test; a simple test to choose the worthy, yet also a test to identify the brilliant and the cunning. Where ages of war and combat had tired out the timeless patience of those up on high, there were still those who craved for the art of combat, the thrill of bloodshed, and yet again the satisfaction of dominance. Of these omnipotent observers, of those whose brilliant minds not only contributed to the life of the simulation yet ever changing but also whose minds had provided the viewers with everlasting hope in the future, one of these, with such a sense of confidence so high, dared to walk the stairwell of jurisdiction.
To walk the stairwell of jurisdiction required not only a sense of purpose adamant enough to challenge the sheer power of the Seven Moons of the Farlands, but would also require that the observer can hold their own against the mere presence of He who had resided since the beginning of time. To yield in his presence after the grueling task of walking up such steps would be considered a disappointment, a failure of the highest degree, within a society which had no equal. And yet, one of them has left his chair in the council to seek word with He? Unbelievable.
Treachery? Had he been mad to take a step upon the sacred ivorystone steppes, where the mere essence of an observer would feel the pressure of a thousand supernovae? Art thou mad, to challenge a God in his own domain, a domain where time served the essence of the God in a space he freely controlled? Art thou not afraid, for taking a step would not only madden and ruinate the observer beyond relief, but would also outlaw and discriminate him as well, for attempting to challenge He who makes all in peace?
And yet, where does he stand, against the very God that has had the right of presence and glory to introduce upon our very race the joys of creation, the security of simulation, and yet again the miracles of reanimation, time and time again? Was he not satisfied, with the gifts that he was born-given? Had he been disappointed in these gifts he gave, where he has suddenly had the gall to stand up and leave the spectacle of His glory? Does the miracle worth a twice-millenium not satisfy him enough? The authority to challenge the Almighty, the absolute arrogance of the man, to embark on an exodus to question he who has travelled the Infinite Forest, searching for the Six Truths and the many Fruits of Indulgement; does he dare risk his own standing, his own audience with the Almighty in trespassing his courtroom with the treason of opinion?
And yet, despite these allegations, despite the shattering anxieties of an observer when faced with the sheer presence of He, the footsteps grew louder, as a simple, pathetic, yet driven interloper approached the summit. A foolish man, yet he believed his purpose was not for naught. He looked up, as the comets and stars in the sky seemed to pause suddenly, as if time itself was interrupted by his presence, as if the balance of the universe had been shifted from a simple boot onto a courtroom. On his eyes shone a prism; before him was He.
"Will you listen, if I am existent? Will I exist, when I approach He who frightens? Shall I fall frightened, should I listen to the shadows in my mind?"
"I accept the risks, and I shall become intertwined with my fate. Will you take my hand and guide me to enlightenment?"
And yet time did not collapse on he who spoke, as the final seconds were counting down; judgement upon the blind fool had not been decided yet - but his faith remained resolute. His calculations and speculations were one and the same - now what remained was the gambit, the thrill of the game, and the expectation of not victory, not failure, but satisfaction. Should one otherwise find himself in such a situation where one's mortal being should be judged by a God, one's knees would bend before Him, yet the fool called forth his gamble with thrill in his eyes. He had not come here to die, yet death remained on his mind for as long as he feared and was frightened of the God. With eyes ever so valiant, and with a stance to shift the statutes of space and time, the gambler immediately ceased to fear.
Turning his back on the essence of power, the absolute of all absolute sins of his era, the gambler didn't take any chances to look back, as he began to take one step down the ivorystone steppes of justice. Art thy had not been desperate or lucky, his peers did not know, though they did know that the gambler had been the first to ever walk down the Stairwell of Jurisdiction alive; to make an attempt to challenge a god, and to come back unscathed had been just a brilliant feat as slaying the god itself. Indeed, the brilliant light still shone throughout the courtroom, and the man still walked down the steppes, as the anger of the earth rippled throughout the skies. Imbalance has been created.
A mere mortal dared to challenge the dreaming desires of a god, of whom they were the first thought of mind to create; where one hand sought to create life and to explore its intricacies, the other sought curiosity of anarchy, of the bitter destruction and chaos that a god's dreaming desire could wish upon the world - but of all things, a god hadn't expected a sudden shift in beliefs and identity within this particular individual. Had the individual come to him with still a certain fright that he might be smitten, it might as well be his dying wish, but with this one, an impression was simply enough to make Him consider. The tone of one's voice, after all, is the deliverer of both beauty and destruction, as speech itself showcases the beauty in destruction. A mortal, capable of such a weapon?
Courtrooms were never meant to be quiet, for it is the simple mind that perceived a quiet room to be a boring room; yet there was an extended serenity during those few seconds where man began walking where no man had stepped foot before. Where there had been once scrutiny, discrimination, and prejudice, there was now a renown sense of awe radiating into the air; the enlightened scene of a shadow of a figure coming down from the heavens, as the spirit of an eternal power radiated behind him, splitting the very sky into multitude of colors invoked such a surge of wonderment within those who had doubted. The doubtful are always the first to learn, and yet, the stubborn are yet the wiser within a world of greed and power.
Wake up.
There is much more about the world than you realize.
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Creepy thing in the lobby occurred...
in General
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@TacticalModz