Voicemail von Rosthorn

The Beginning
The story of Voicemail von Rosthorn is a long and cruel tale of one’s descent into madness, with faint glimpses of hope shining through the dark vail of fate. It all started on Voicemail’s 346th birthday, in a quaint kingdom of old called “Vaemore”. The virgin lands of this kingdom were beautiful and full of opportunity for a wizard making his way in the world. After studying dark magic for 300 years, Voicemail was finally ready to begin his journey to massive fortunes- though you’ll soon find these dreams changed slightly. He constructed a tall wizard tower of 6 floors. The tower was adorned with technology of all sorts… Automatic potion brewing machines, highly efficient ingredient farms, and other convenient inventions. He stayed here for some time writing books and selling potions to the locals.

It was on a bright summer day that a sealed letter arrived in the mail- addressed to “Phonecall”, which is the moniker Voicemail had used at the time. The letter was a job offer from a king in a very far away nation. The letter gave perspective to Voicemail. He had realized his quaint and stable life had grown increasingly mundane, and that he had a thirst for greater things. On that evening, his bags were packed and ready for a journey to Plagadonia.

The Rise and Fall of Plagadonia
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!” - Percy Shelley

The tale of Plagadonia is a short and seemingly uninteresting one, though it played an integral role in the development of Voicemail’s ever growing greed. Upon his arrival in this new kingdom, he was greeted by the royal family and showered with materials to start producing potions for the royal army. He fell into place quite easily in this town. The people were kind and the culture was inviting, this place was a perfect home for those willing to return kindness with kindness.

Plagadonia was a sort of small nation that had gained independence from the much larger empire of Plagatea. The story of this nation was just beginning when voicemail arrived, though the joy would be short lived. With their newfound independence, and no allies, the homeland was subject to attacks at all angles. And to make matters worse, one stormy night the King, King Rexious, was assassinated along with his sole heir in their bedchambers. The killer was never found. The death of the royal family was a spike in the side of the nation, drove harder each day their leader was dead. Shortly after this tragedy, nearly all of the population fled to greener pastures. All but one- Voicemail von Rosthorn.

As the last remaining citizen of Plagadonia, Voicemail crowned himself king by default. For one glorious day he danced and ran along the walls, sat in the throne, and enjoyed the empty kingdom left for him alone. During the night, the light of campfires and torches dotted the horizon viewed from the highest tower in the keep.

A knock at the gates was faintly heard the next morning…

To Voicemail’s surprise, an army of 50 warriors, skilled and sharpened, stood before the grand gates of Plagadonia’s castle town. Bardonia had come to pick this ripe fruit from the fertile lands of Plagatea, and that’s exactly what they did.

The House of Minerva
A narrow escape! How one man evaded an army of determined man hunters I could not tell you. All that is known is sly Voicemail slipped between houses and alleys in a frantic chase for survival. Out of breath and disheartened, Voicemail stood and took one last look at the kingdom slipping through his fingers. Over his shoulder was a vast sea, home to a secret hideaway he had been constructing for this exact contingency.

Long corridors and dingy wallpaper was the dainty decor of this undersea manor house. The build was not visible on the surface, and you couldn’t even tell if anyone was inside just by looking at it. It was in the damp and dimly lit library that Voicemail concocted a business plan so grandiose, so risky, so unfathomably evil, that it might work. Some claim the time spent undersea is when the icy grip of insanity began to creep into the mind of Voice, though these claims were never confirmed.

The Sunny Shores of Skjoldrbrodir
Gustavus Vilhorn, a friend from a nation adjacent to Plagadonia, frequently visited the underwater abode. He discussed newly discovered lands being settled, with bountiful natural resources. Finally Gustavus was able to convince the discouraged voicemail (who was completely comfortable living another 300 years in his subaquatic hideaway) to depart for the new world with him. A longship awaited at the nearby town of Ustukol.

Once again, Voicemail was at ground zero with nothing to his name except a few mementos and an ever thinning coin purse. There was money to be made in this new place, though to start out, Voicemail settled for farming potatoes. Living on a farm was a humble existence for Voicemail. The memories made on his pathetic potato field would stay with him forever- though much bigger things were in store for our entrepreneurial void creature.

The Grand Uldaresh Hotel
The meager coins being made from Voice’s potato field was not enough for his tastes. Not nearly enough! He had visions of a grand palace… A place of gathering for the rich and famous of all lands. The concept he eventually settled upon was that of “The Grand Uldaresh Hotel”. A gargantuan pink building with innumerable rooms. With a dream in mind and plentiful time to spare nothing could stand in the way of Voicemail.

Two months after its inception, The Grand Uldaresh was complete. Just before Voice and Gustavus’ arrival in the land of Eldham, their country had claimed a victory over the defunct nation known as “Limuria”. This new land acquisition provided multiple pleasant biomes to build in. Most importantly a mountainous region by the sea, which will eventually become the city of Ruddersdam- the present home of Voicemail and his family. The hotel was perched high on top of a mountain overlooking the construction of this new city.

Each detail of the hotel was meticulously crafted with the idea of exceptional hospitality in mind. The thermal baths constructed with Prismarine ripped from a sea temple, the towering sandstone pillars made from stolen Urakan sand, each individual room decorated with the latest fashionable furnishings. No expense was spared in this hotel. Soon after its completion people began to take notice. Within the first month all of the suites on the top floor were sold. Soon after, the god of partying and hedonism “Fankt Chonkwi” visited along with StoneyStoner to award Voicemail with a 3rd place trophy and a pair of Elytra for creating a suitable party space for the persnickety god.

The Market Crash of Boardwalk
Now that the taste of real estate, and the taste of money that comes with successful real estate, had been introduced to Voicemail, his greed and determination grew wild.

Word of an upcoming change (the removal of /la spawn) had circulated its way into Voicemail’s attention. He believed that this change would rewrite the way people trodded across the earth’s surface. To a degree he would be right, though inevitably this change would be reverted due to the outcry of Eldham’s populous. Teleportation to nations and towns would soon be impossible However, there was a loophole Voicemail and a number of other clear headed businessman came upon.

“Boardwalk” The world market. On paper this idea was brilliant! A city surrounding spawn. A mass of people were on board building their shops and restaurants, desperately reaching for their piece of this newly discovered pie. The factor that made Boardwalk different from any other nation’s market district was that you could still teleport to spawn and reach Boardwalk by a thirty second swim. Voicemail had high hopes for this town, so he drew up the blueprints for a tall and lavishly decorated skyscraper.

“The Rosthorn Building” as it was called, towered far above the other shops and buildings adjacent to it. It contained 8 floors, two of which reserved for personal use of the Rosthorn Family, and a large basement. It was about this time that Voicemail had adopted his first son Kash. This event would be the beginning of The Family Rosthorn, but that is a story for another time.

All was well. The tower was very close to completion, and the shops of Boardwalk had a healthy consumer base purchasing products daily. According to Voicemail’s hidden memoirs, he had been celebrating the completion of the building’s construction in his new penthouse when the news was brought to him; “Spawn has become an inescapable prison!” a servant informed him. With no way to teleport to Boardwalk, the entire city was nothing more than a mob of merchants floating in the sea, no different than the other pitiful commercial districts on land.

Profits flatlined for everyone- and not a single floor of the Rosthorn building was sold. Voicemail watched from the clouds as Boardwalk became a ghost town. While everyone else left, Voicemail stayed, with Kash as his only companion in the empty city. Days and months passed as he paced through the decaying halls of his monument to failure. The insanity that had been dormant began to show its true colors. This time through the medium of an architectural design for a mansion.