Way back in 2015, when I was a newer user to OldCP and there was a different time, I had a best friend that many did not know. Most didn't know me, either. His name was Frankman. Frankman was a wise man. I enjoyed my times with him. Every moment we were together we sparked our inspiration. He was simply a friend that at the time I did not know I would ever reminisce. He wore a simple red cloak, and bore a snow shovel with him all of the time. He always told me he carried around his shovel so that when he died, they would know to bury him quickly. He always spoke of one day being "World Famous". And soon, death befell him via the Rogue gangsters that roamed the land at that time.

Many, many years later, in the Summer of 2018, I was under a lot of heat. My name was practically a bounty in itself. And I had much time to think in Jail. One day, I happened to revisit the Town, where Frankman was once shot dead. And I remembered his dream. A dream that I would give him, even in death.

I wanted my wish of a good fight. And I would fulfill his of being World Famous, in the only way I knew how. The World Championship. I put on his familiar cloak, bore his shovel, and my disguise was clean. It was not so easy, however. I knew if I used the proper fighting tactics, while posing as a user that has supposedly been gone for so long, my disguise would be torn. So I did my best to mimic the fighting of a newer user. Simply hiding, going in only when the moment was opportune. Even begging for life. Eventually, the battle came down to a close call. Each of the 3 warriors, Flame, Lush and I the disguised, all finally in a very tense place. I knew what was at stake, and I knew that I had to win, no matter the means. It was wise to play defensive in the matter. Tyre/Flame finally was fed up, and I was facing the heat of his wrath. Flame is naturally a better fighter than me, even then, and so I stayed dormant. It was a very slow battle.

Lush was finally taking a lash from Tyre, while I watched, admittedly terrified in the corner. Finally, after some yelling, Tyre finally struck down Lush. I was pinned against the enemy I so feared. Too much skill and my guise was pointless, too little and I was dead. Finally, I charged in, hitting Tyre, possibly by pure luck, and finally in the heat of battle I made my sweep to his side, cutting him down by the end. And so I won. I won the battle in his name. A victory for both my old friend, and myself. While definitely it was a depressing battle, it was plenty believable to not gather any sort of suspicion from the crowd. Relatively, anyways. Everyone that joined the game was put on suspicion for being me. I had a habit of guises. But what mattered to me was that the name Frankman had finally come into the light. A World Champion.



Now a World Champion, I would later go on to keep his proud name in various other battles. Every swing of his blade felt like triumph from the deceased wise man I was once so very fond of. This being the Battle for Sting, which I unfortunately lost, but not after a damn good fight.



Unfortunately, for the sake of my cover I could not give him the proper popularity of a star. And one day, his glory was cut short by a new threat. One I made sure to give a battle I have never forgotten.


Finally, it came down to it. The Tower, a Hand Guard, was at the time threatening my fame. I gathered enough of a guise as Frankman to finally put my skill to the test against a foe that had the edge against me in every way. He was massive, and his sword was infinitely sharper than mine own - but for the glory of Frankman, I could not back down to such a fight.

While massive and hard-hitting, he was slow - making him somewhat of a tank. If anything, the Frankman I knew was always great at running away. And the perfect time to strike at an enemy is when they are running towards you haphazardly, leaving them open.



Unfortunately, what I did not account for was that sometimes, like Frankman himself - you find yourself lacking somewhere to run. I was pinned. I knew my death was soon. The best I could do was land as many blows on the beast as possible.



But I found a much more viable strategy. The simple means of slipping around to the entrance. There is no literary way to describe this.



Despite my blows - my foe was simply too much of a tank to die. It was a valiant last battle. Proper compared to my cowardly win in the World Championship. In the end, The Tower ended up slaying 2 innocent bystanders, and his fate soon followed when he was later executed.

Of course, my guise slipped, and my natural form would later return. But I felt as though I had left my dearest friend's book closed in a much better way. Perhaps fitting, given my mother is apparently Melian, the Lady of Many forms. That is irrelevant here.

Thank you Frankman. You were a wonderful friend and an amazing companion, long before my turning to evil. It was you who inspired my desire for fame. A fame I would later chase after with my future dearest friends. And in these later years - I have not forgotten you.

"I carry this shovel around, so that when I die, they'll know to bury me quickly before the vultures pick at my remains. I want no funeral. Just a peaceful, silent passing within the Earth."
- Frankman the Wise

Frankman stole my title