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A distant place, a distant time laid within the center of the ocean a small volcanic island where snow fell in a continuous blanket. The center of it branching up towards the sky as the volcano's summit had wisps and curls of smoke rising, much like the chimneys of the tiny fishing village located at its bank. It was a quaint, quiet place, as if time had come to a standstill save the drifting flurries of snowflakes that never once ceased. The ones living there lived peacefully without any sort of troubles- for the island was protected by their guardian deity, a beautiful mermaid, one that is said to have matchless beauty in all the world. She bestowed the villagers with strong, healthy bodies, fit for diving and fishing from the ever abundant ocean so they could trade with those nearby and supply their families with warmth and food in the chilling cold.
A small distance away from the village was a little jutted out peninsula, and upon its edge laid a two-story wooden cottage. It was a mixture of brown and white due to the snow staining its outside, with frosted windowpanes that revealed the warmth within. It's chimney never once stopped its billows, the house always comfortable due to the fire that always seemed to burn. There in this cottage lived an older couple alone. Their children had already moved out of the house to the village, and they had to depend on themselves for daily necessities. The pair had little trouble with such, due to their goddess' blessing. The Old Man would go out every morning, net in hand, and dive off their peninsula to return in the evening with his daily catch. His wife would ensure everything else in the house was running smoothly, whether it was the trade of their caught fish or keeping their fires stoked and warm for when he returned, dripping with salty seawater.
It was a day like any other for the Old Man. He had kissed his wife goodbye, net in hand, and wandered to the peninsula. Diving off of its tip, he began to hunt for fish, gathering and collecting a plentiful harvest. Yet... he suddenly saw a large shadow quickly move out of the corner of his eye, moving further and further away! Curiosity overtaken, he began to swim deeper and deeper, as if to find what it was he had seen. His chest would begin to burn from the exertion, his gave wavering. The shadow had disappeared, yet what lurked upon the recesses of his vision was a statue. It had a curved tail, bending upwards into fins, its upper body that of a woman. Two arms stretched out, as if reaching for him and its entirety filled in splendorous jewels, glittering even with the lack of much light. Yet from his distance, a long ways away, the Old Man could only barely make it out, no shred of doubt that the statue was of his goddess. He could not last any longer, nor swim deeper, lest he ended up drowning. He could only return to the shores of his peninsula, panting heavily while hauling up a load of fish.
From that point forward, each day the Old Man would dive a little further at a time, pushing his lungs, his body in attempts to get closer to the statue. He had told his wife, yet she told him it was foolhardy. He didn't listen though. She hadn't seen its glamour, its splendor. The allure of seeing his goddess' face. Each dive he was able to hold out just a little longer. He was able to make out some of the details, yet her face upon the statue was still hidden... and that is when the shadow returned. It swum out in front, charging towards him! The figure slowly grew more visible... and it looked like a strange monster. Part man, yet with gills, green skin, webbed feet and hands. Spikes covered its head and neck. Instead of a mouth there was a strange, short hollow tube. It stopped and spat at the man, a highly pressurized stream of water shot and tore through his shoulder! His filled net fell from his hands, the warning shot clear in meaning. The Old Man could only swim upwards and escape, the creature not chasing after he had reached a distance from the statue once more. The sun was setting when he had finally surfaced, flopping onto the white shore heaving in pain. His wife had been waiting and pacing already outside, shivering and wet in the cold, wondering where he was. Joy and pain blossomed upon her face when she saw him, and the trail to the house left heavy, dark red footprints in the snow.
Days turned to weeks, turned to months. The Old Man had suffered from infection and fever... With no one to bring in their daily catch, there was little that could be done, their savings dwindling to nothing. I was not long before his wife ended up passing. A combination of age, shock, and lack of basic needs she was not able to last long... And he was surely not far behind. He staggered out of his house. Even if he died, there was still one last thing he had to do. The snow only had one trail of footprints, that day. His going to the waters. He weakly dove in. He swam. and swam. His throat and chest burned. Everything hurt. His vision seemed as if it was fading. There would be no going back- Yet he must look upon that visage that has haunted every waking and sleeping moment. Some sort of primal burst of strength flowed through him, as if the last vestiges of his own life were empowering him, driving him closer to his goal. He saw the statue, and it it would not be long until he would finally see her face! His vision was darkening, his chest tightening. Just a little more... a little more.... then everything turned to shadow.
Within the middle of the sea, in a land separated from place and time, laid an island with a volcano standing tall at its center, smoke curling from its peak. It would always be covered in white snow, fresh and constantly falling, as if a picturesque moment were captured and left just in its perfect image. Its shore was dotted with houses from the small village that sustained itself off the bountiful ocean blessed by their goddess. A distance from the village was a small peninsula jutting out from the isle, and upon it was a house. A thatched roof, wooden two story cabin. It was a quaint place, with frosted windows. Yet there was no warm glow within, all fallen to silence, and its chimney empty evermore.
-By Caleb harlinger
I apologise in advance. This is the rudest story I know, and really not befitting me. But it holds a special place in my heart, and I have had no one who would appreciate it in a long time. The angels think it is beyond frivolous. My mother taught it to me when I was young, as a way of reminding me what it is to be human, and I believe to tweak my father's nose. Furthermore, she assured me it would be a popular story with the other children, who did not always appreciate me, different and awkward as I was. It always made me laugh, when I did not laugh much as a child, sill though it is. And she was right, it made me very popular with the human children to retell.
It is no original, but a fable based on an ancient group of celestial beings. These celestial beings were like to a variety of planar creatures, though they all had the forms of primordial animals. Together they lived on a plane that resembled a great forest.
Spider was small, but very clever and always scheming. And yes, he could be cruel with his jokes, but most often played them on those he thought brought it on themselves. One fine, hot day, Spider spotted a fat buffalo carcass in the river. He sensed an opportunity.
He rushed to the great Tiger, a notorious bully and killer, and told him of the bounty he had spotted, free and delicious meat for the taking. Tiger was always hungry, and eager to swim in after it, but was concerned that his big tiger balls would get wet.
Spider put on his most wheedling, suplicative weakling voice, and offered to keep them safe for him on the riverbank. In return, he would get a tiny bit of the buffalo, after all, Spider was very small, and there was no way he would be strong enough to get it himself. Tiger agreed, with a typical dire threat to Spider, that he would be killed if he did not protect his precious balls. Spider agreed, and Tiger, full of confidence that none would defy him, passed over his big balls to Spider to safe keep them.
When Tiger was in the water, Spider ran off, admiring his new big swinging balls. Before he left though, he took off his little shrivelled nuts and left them on the riverbank.
Spider ran straight to the Monkeys, telling them the story of how he stole the tiger's balls, and left him with nothing. He did a models work, proudly showing off Tigers former prize possession. The monkeys laughed and laughed, for they hated tiger, as most of the celestial beings did. To rub it in, Spider left them singing a song he taught them of Tiger-no balls, which, being Monkeys, they also loved.
Spider then ran down to the river bank, hiding tiger's balls in the jungle.
Tiger came out of the water in a rage when he discovered his balls were gone.
I will kill you Spider!
Spider quickly explained that the Monkeys had come and stolen Tigers balls, tearing Spiders off as well, and poor Spider was forced to hide.
Tiger did not believe him...but then he saw Spiders poor shrivelled balls on the riverbank. And at the very moment, he heard the Monkeys singing coming through the forest trees, singing of Tiger no-balls in the distance.
Spider, with his meekest look, offered his little balls to Tiger so he could go into the jungle with at least something.
Tiger thanked Spider profusely, then entered a vicious frenzy, and killed monkey's willy- nilly, while Spider slipped back and retrieved the big tiger balls. He admired them as he walked.... listening to the roars of Tiger and screams of Monkey....
The moral of the story, oh so I've been told, is do not trust anyone with your balls, especially a Spider.
I personally like both the options( the gold/better merchant and the quest reduction) but the issue i see for both are pretty obvious. The quest reduction makes total sense but also means people will be worried and paranoid about quests. I offer this instead;
Have the death system take gold when you die AND lower stats for a set amount of time. offset with the higher merchant selling but also give cleric PC's the ability to remove the stat lowering via greater restoration or a special widget clerics/druids get+ resting at an Inn. Either of those options would give more to the server, still punish death, but also dont hamper players to the point of paranoia. Doing it this way will also make it fair for all classes as some classes just cant get XP as well as others, such as going out by themselves at low levels.
