![π¨οΈMarin [OC] π¨οΈ Minecraft Skin](https://static.planetminecraft.com/files/resource_media/preview/marin-19410737-minecraft-skin.jpg "π¨οΈMarin [OC] π¨οΈ Minecraft Skin")
β’ 12/21/25 7:10 pm
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- Format
- Java
- Model
- Alex
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Most people's stories end in death, but Marin's was just beginning.
Marin's earliest memory was the cold, suffocating grip of death as she lay in the streets, slowly and agonisingly starving to death. She had only been five years old when it happened, and nobody had dared touch her. They all feared that even her tiny corpse carried the affliction that had felled so many of their friends, family, and neighbours. Her parents, whose faces were slowly becoming a non-distinct blur, had passed from the dreaded sickness weeks earlier, though even in life they had little care for their own daughter, often leaving her in the care of a governess who had fled at the first signs that death was coming.
Most people thought that the pestilence had arrived in bolts of silk from the continent; most people didn’t understand the darker machinations unfolding in the underbelly of Stormcrest. Nobody knew that a book long believed to be a thing of myth and legend had been discovered, and this fearsome grimoire was being used to flood the kingdom of Stormcrest with a plague so deadly there was almost no hope of survival.
Marin's second earliest memory was the hellish heat of resurrection as she emerged into the world, reborn in fire and fear, as Silas Scratch performed forbidden necromancy to bring her back into a world that had so easily and apathetically discarded her. Even at five years old, Marin was filled with such a bitter and burning resentment for the people of Stormcrest that she was indifferent to any fate that befell them. How could Marin know that the man who resurrected her was the same man mostly responsible for her death?
Fourteen years would drag by, but Marin had slowly become ambivalent regarding the actions and deeds of Silas Scratch that he carried out in the name of the Rat King. Silas had always been cruel, and yet she remembered a time when she cared a lot less; she remembered a time when she didn’t care at all. Yet it wasn’t sympathy Marin was feeling for the victims of Silas, it was fear of Silas and his even crueler master, the Rat King.
As Marin left her childhood and teenage years behind and began her journey into adulthood it became abundantly clear that she had spent the last fourteen years of her life surrounded by monsters and was in danger of becoming one herself. And so as the fifteenth year rolled it’s ugly head Marin Ran.
Although the Rat King is still sealed inside the grand oak tree in the Winter Woods, when it snows in summer in Stormcrest, he will return.
Marin's earliest memory was the cold, suffocating grip of death as she lay in the streets, slowly and agonisingly starving to death. She had only been five years old when it happened, and nobody had dared touch her. They all feared that even her tiny corpse carried the affliction that had felled so many of their friends, family, and neighbours. Her parents, whose faces were slowly becoming a non-distinct blur, had passed from the dreaded sickness weeks earlier, though even in life they had little care for their own daughter, often leaving her in the care of a governess who had fled at the first signs that death was coming.
Most people thought that the pestilence had arrived in bolts of silk from the continent; most people didn’t understand the darker machinations unfolding in the underbelly of Stormcrest. Nobody knew that a book long believed to be a thing of myth and legend had been discovered, and this fearsome grimoire was being used to flood the kingdom of Stormcrest with a plague so deadly there was almost no hope of survival.
Marin's second earliest memory was the hellish heat of resurrection as she emerged into the world, reborn in fire and fear, as Silas Scratch performed forbidden necromancy to bring her back into a world that had so easily and apathetically discarded her. Even at five years old, Marin was filled with such a bitter and burning resentment for the people of Stormcrest that she was indifferent to any fate that befell them. How could Marin know that the man who resurrected her was the same man mostly responsible for her death?
Fourteen years would drag by, but Marin had slowly become ambivalent regarding the actions and deeds of Silas Scratch that he carried out in the name of the Rat King. Silas had always been cruel, and yet she remembered a time when she cared a lot less; she remembered a time when she didn’t care at all. Yet it wasn’t sympathy Marin was feeling for the victims of Silas, it was fear of Silas and his even crueler master, the Rat King.
As Marin left her childhood and teenage years behind and began her journey into adulthood it became abundantly clear that she had spent the last fourteen years of her life surrounded by monsters and was in danger of becoming one herself. And so as the fifteenth year rolled it’s ugly head Marin Ran.
Although the Rat King is still sealed inside the grand oak tree in the Winter Woods, when it snows in summer in Stormcrest, he will return.
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I love the royal colours on the skin!