AmongHeroes
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Bio
Always Searching For The Next Great Story
Hello there,
I am AmongHeroes, and I'm happy you're here. I am an experienced roleplayer, writer, and fantastical creator.
♠ - I am an adult in my 30's. As such, I prefer to write with other adults.
♠ - Though I am capable of embodying many varied characters, in 1 x 1 settings I prefer writing as a heterosexual male with a generally dominant/masculine aura.
♠ - Genres I enjoy range from low & high fantasy, sci-fi, horror, gothic, romance, dark romance and noir.
♠ - Adult themes are welcome including violence, sexual encounters, etc.
Do feel free to reach out to me for partnership inquiries or for friendly interaction. I look forward to seeing you 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑒𝑠 we create.
I am made from the stardust of Her heart. Linked beyond time and moons and stars, in every life a soul fitted indelibly to a universe woven in the shape of Her claim.
Most Recent Posts
Is this RP still accepting nation applications?
Atticus smirked at Thad, remembering back to his brief stint decked out in leather, courtesy of the warlock.
“I would’ve worn them more, but I kept wanting to watch Easy Rider and smoke Lucky Strikes.” Atticus joked.
He watched the resurrected man, now in the visage of the tall and bright Thad, briefly greet Siya before scooping Veti up in his long arms. As the pair turned towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms, a genuine and knowing smile split his beard, and he laughed quietly. Those rooms contained a special place in Atticus own heart as well, and as he felt Siya slip beside him and pull him close with her arm, he directed his smile down to her.
His mouth opened to speak to her, but Atticus stopped when he saw the look in the pretty vampire’s eyes, and traced the intent of her gaze over to where Daisy stood. The reaper was cradling the lovable hell-hound, and Atticus made a mental note to warn Cornelius before the hound decided to give the rubber-ducky butler a good chewing. His eyes creased with concern, and he bent down to whisper to Siya.
“Are you alright, petit prédateur?”
Aislinn Hoyle
Aislinn Hoyle walked on wolfen legs out from the hallway that led to the private quarters of her brother, and looked around the expansive and richly appointed room. Her muzzle scrunched as she sniffed the air, taking in all the multitude of strange and foreign scents. The mottled brown, red, and gray fur upon her head rustled lightly as she shook her head, trying to shake free some of the pungency off the smells that permeated the room.
The ancient werewolf had not set foot inside of a traditional structure in decades, and as such her heightened senses were woefully unaccustomed to the lingering scents from hundreds of years of food, cleanings, visitors, and even more cleaning. She snorted and repressed a growl. This was not where she belonged, and she did not understand why Reginald had chosen a life free from the natural comfort of a pack. Her choice had been made for her, almost a thousand years ago, but it was not one she wished to continue willingly.
Her giant clawed hand came up to rub at the recently healed slash mark that denoted where the Nixie’s blade had almost drawn the life from her body. It now appeared as a bright white smile of fur across her throat, one that contrasted sharply with the other dimmer colors of her coat. Aislinn knew that she would never be able to be in a pack ever again. The blood in her veins made that certain enough. She did not possess the untouchable prowess of her brother, and thusly the Lupus Naturae would never allow her to ascend to any kind of status. To the world of the werewolf she was a pariah, and she would never know true peace until the day she drew her last breath.
She snarled to herself. That day may be coming sooner rather than later, judging by what she felt was coming. The entire world was not long for the sunrise in a fortnight if something wasn’t done. Ragnarök was beginning, and it was being accelerated by someone who was in a position to benefit. Aislinn was putting her stock in this Ice Queen that the Siren had spoken of in the cave. That coupled with the betrayal of the Solas na gealaí, the tooth of Fenris, was the final clue. The end was coming, unless something was done to interrupt it. Bain and Hoyle were discussing even now how to go about doing just that, but Aislinn needed to get away from their machinations. Though she would never admit it, she was also distinctly curious about the individuals that were in her brother’s employ.
She stepped further into the room, her attentions being first drawn to two individuals standing somewhat apart from the rest. The first was dressed in a mismatch of clothes, drinking a tall glass of liquor, and smelled of both human and demonic aspects. The second was a hard looking individual that smelled distinctly of old death and rot, despite his relatively normal appearance.
Aislinn moved between the two, and in turn stuck her black nose close to each, sniffing in deeply. The gesture was purely natural, like that of a dog smelling new visitors, but the strangeness of a large werewolf doing the same did not dawn upon the old wolf. The bulk of her years had been spent in hiding amongst the wild creatures of the world, and manners were not something that Aislinn took much value in in the first instance.
“You two,” she grunted in her rough wolfen voice, “you are here to help stop Ragnarök, yes?” A giant hand came out to clutch the clothing of the one that smelled of demon and human. “The manner of your dress, it is strange.”
Still holding onto Nestor’s clothing, Aislinn bent her head down to lap at the tumbler of whiskey he held in his hand, her eyes moving between the two men as she waited for them to answer her.
“I would’ve worn them more, but I kept wanting to watch Easy Rider and smoke Lucky Strikes.” Atticus joked.
He watched the resurrected man, now in the visage of the tall and bright Thad, briefly greet Siya before scooping Veti up in his long arms. As the pair turned towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms, a genuine and knowing smile split his beard, and he laughed quietly. Those rooms contained a special place in Atticus own heart as well, and as he felt Siya slip beside him and pull him close with her arm, he directed his smile down to her.
His mouth opened to speak to her, but Atticus stopped when he saw the look in the pretty vampire’s eyes, and traced the intent of her gaze over to where Daisy stood. The reaper was cradling the lovable hell-hound, and Atticus made a mental note to warn Cornelius before the hound decided to give the rubber-ducky butler a good chewing. His eyes creased with concern, and he bent down to whisper to Siya.
“Are you alright, petit prédateur?”
Aislinn Hoyle
Aislinn Hoyle walked on wolfen legs out from the hallway that led to the private quarters of her brother, and looked around the expansive and richly appointed room. Her muzzle scrunched as she sniffed the air, taking in all the multitude of strange and foreign scents. The mottled brown, red, and gray fur upon her head rustled lightly as she shook her head, trying to shake free some of the pungency off the smells that permeated the room.
The ancient werewolf had not set foot inside of a traditional structure in decades, and as such her heightened senses were woefully unaccustomed to the lingering scents from hundreds of years of food, cleanings, visitors, and even more cleaning. She snorted and repressed a growl. This was not where she belonged, and she did not understand why Reginald had chosen a life free from the natural comfort of a pack. Her choice had been made for her, almost a thousand years ago, but it was not one she wished to continue willingly.
Her giant clawed hand came up to rub at the recently healed slash mark that denoted where the Nixie’s blade had almost drawn the life from her body. It now appeared as a bright white smile of fur across her throat, one that contrasted sharply with the other dimmer colors of her coat. Aislinn knew that she would never be able to be in a pack ever again. The blood in her veins made that certain enough. She did not possess the untouchable prowess of her brother, and thusly the Lupus Naturae would never allow her to ascend to any kind of status. To the world of the werewolf she was a pariah, and she would never know true peace until the day she drew her last breath.
She snarled to herself. That day may be coming sooner rather than later, judging by what she felt was coming. The entire world was not long for the sunrise in a fortnight if something wasn’t done. Ragnarök was beginning, and it was being accelerated by someone who was in a position to benefit. Aislinn was putting her stock in this Ice Queen that the Siren had spoken of in the cave. That coupled with the betrayal of the Solas na gealaí, the tooth of Fenris, was the final clue. The end was coming, unless something was done to interrupt it. Bain and Hoyle were discussing even now how to go about doing just that, but Aislinn needed to get away from their machinations. Though she would never admit it, she was also distinctly curious about the individuals that were in her brother’s employ.
She stepped further into the room, her attentions being first drawn to two individuals standing somewhat apart from the rest. The first was dressed in a mismatch of clothes, drinking a tall glass of liquor, and smelled of both human and demonic aspects. The second was a hard looking individual that smelled distinctly of old death and rot, despite his relatively normal appearance.
Aislinn moved between the two, and in turn stuck her black nose close to each, sniffing in deeply. The gesture was purely natural, like that of a dog smelling new visitors, but the strangeness of a large werewolf doing the same did not dawn upon the old wolf. The bulk of her years had been spent in hiding amongst the wild creatures of the world, and manners were not something that Aislinn took much value in in the first instance.
“You two,” she grunted in her rough wolfen voice, “you are here to help stop Ragnarök, yes?” A giant hand came out to clutch the clothing of the one that smelled of demon and human. “The manner of your dress, it is strange.”
Still holding onto Nestor’s clothing, Aislinn bent her head down to lap at the tumbler of whiskey he held in his hand, her eyes moving between the two men as she waited for them to answer her.
A great couple of posts to read this morning! Thank you Wordsmith and LT. I didn't even get my own post up last night, so this was refreshing to see. I'll endeavor to get my own finished as well.
How are we doing this morning?
How are we doing this morning?
Thomas chuckled lightly at the helmsman’s quip about the Dusk Skate being Dutch, and her inherent prowess upon the high seas as a result.
“I can’t argue with that. Truly the dry docks of Rotterdam put out some of the most beautiful curves in the world, especially when compared to the average figure of the Dutch lady,” he said with an exaggerated cringe.
He turned his attention to the First Mate once again, as her smooth voice came to his ears. Her mention of him keeping the crew in the dark about the nature of the voyage came as a surprise, as Thomas never discussed the details of a raid with anyone but the ranking members upon the Skate until the ship was well at sea. Usually in Monkey Bay to the north of Port Royal. Though the First Mate was new to his ship in relative terms, she had witnessed this ritual at least twice. Thomas took no umbrage to her advice however, accepting the spirit in which it was given.
“Aye, a sound piece of guidance, Lieutenant,” he said once more, having noted the genuine ease that followed his first pronouncement of the rank. “The details of the raid will be divulged in Monkey Bay, and the voting upon the rules, and my station as captain will take place there as well.”
It was traditional among pirates and privateers for the captain and the ground rules that governed the crew to be voted on at the beginning of a voyage. The vote was usually perfunctory on both accounts, and the only real import of the motion was to give anyone not willing to continue with the ship one last chance to disembark. Only then was the expedition revealed to the crew, and the dividing of the coming treasure into shares was also stated. If after this point any member of the crew attempted to leave, they were shot on sight without trial, preamble, or explanation.
After his exchange with Nicolette, Thomas had spoken to the boy, Luc, about his desire for Pound Cake. With the gold piece displayed before him, Thomas listened intently to the boy as he spoke of the intent for the first doubloon going to pay for the services of a tutor. The thought filled the pirate captain with pride, though he knew not why.
“A most noble cause for your very first piece of gold,” Thomas said with a smile. “There is nothing like being upon a ship as she cuts through the waves on her best line, the spray of the waves upon your face, and the promise of fortune beckoning with the wind at your back. And the second piece could indeed be the start of a life of great fortune.”
He paused briefly, wanting to add that the life of a privateer would bring Luc the most rewarding of opportunities, but his eyes glanced up to Antonia as she worked behind the bar. It was apparent that Luc’s family wanted more for the boy, something more tangible and respectable than the life of a murderous scoundrel. In Thomas mind, there was nowhere else a man would want to be than free aboard his own ship, making his own luck in a world still new and young. He was aware enough to realize however that his own existence was not as glamorous and noble as he made it out to be. In truth it was a life of a professional gambler, one where your own head was the collateral for the chance at fortune beyond reckoning.
“You can make a great life for yourself among the merchantmen of the New World, your ships ranging from the East Indies, to the ports of London.” Thomas spoke to the boy at last, a wide and excited smile upon his face.
He watched Luc walk away towards the kitchen, following in the wake of the sea-artist. Thomas laughed breathily through his nose, before affixing his attention back to Nicolette and his mug of wine.
“To be a child again, eh?” He spoke to the First Mate.
Thomas opened his mouth to ask after her own childhood, but he stopped. He did not know the angelic and mysterious woman well, save for her ability aboard a ship, and there was a reason for that. Secrets were a pillar of existence in Port Royal, and one’s past life was something that rarely mattered to the scallywags that called her home. Thomas decided that he would not pry, even in the vein of genuine curiosity.
Instead he decided to pursue matters of more relevance. “Lieutenant, you have been amongst traditionally trained gun crews during your time in Louie’s Navy. How does the Skate measure up in that regard? Could the men be sharper at their work?”
“I can’t argue with that. Truly the dry docks of Rotterdam put out some of the most beautiful curves in the world, especially when compared to the average figure of the Dutch lady,” he said with an exaggerated cringe.
He turned his attention to the First Mate once again, as her smooth voice came to his ears. Her mention of him keeping the crew in the dark about the nature of the voyage came as a surprise, as Thomas never discussed the details of a raid with anyone but the ranking members upon the Skate until the ship was well at sea. Usually in Monkey Bay to the north of Port Royal. Though the First Mate was new to his ship in relative terms, she had witnessed this ritual at least twice. Thomas took no umbrage to her advice however, accepting the spirit in which it was given.
“Aye, a sound piece of guidance, Lieutenant,” he said once more, having noted the genuine ease that followed his first pronouncement of the rank. “The details of the raid will be divulged in Monkey Bay, and the voting upon the rules, and my station as captain will take place there as well.”
It was traditional among pirates and privateers for the captain and the ground rules that governed the crew to be voted on at the beginning of a voyage. The vote was usually perfunctory on both accounts, and the only real import of the motion was to give anyone not willing to continue with the ship one last chance to disembark. Only then was the expedition revealed to the crew, and the dividing of the coming treasure into shares was also stated. If after this point any member of the crew attempted to leave, they were shot on sight without trial, preamble, or explanation.
After his exchange with Nicolette, Thomas had spoken to the boy, Luc, about his desire for Pound Cake. With the gold piece displayed before him, Thomas listened intently to the boy as he spoke of the intent for the first doubloon going to pay for the services of a tutor. The thought filled the pirate captain with pride, though he knew not why.
“A most noble cause for your very first piece of gold,” Thomas said with a smile. “There is nothing like being upon a ship as she cuts through the waves on her best line, the spray of the waves upon your face, and the promise of fortune beckoning with the wind at your back. And the second piece could indeed be the start of a life of great fortune.”
He paused briefly, wanting to add that the life of a privateer would bring Luc the most rewarding of opportunities, but his eyes glanced up to Antonia as she worked behind the bar. It was apparent that Luc’s family wanted more for the boy, something more tangible and respectable than the life of a murderous scoundrel. In Thomas mind, there was nowhere else a man would want to be than free aboard his own ship, making his own luck in a world still new and young. He was aware enough to realize however that his own existence was not as glamorous and noble as he made it out to be. In truth it was a life of a professional gambler, one where your own head was the collateral for the chance at fortune beyond reckoning.
“You can make a great life for yourself among the merchantmen of the New World, your ships ranging from the East Indies, to the ports of London.” Thomas spoke to the boy at last, a wide and excited smile upon his face.
He watched Luc walk away towards the kitchen, following in the wake of the sea-artist. Thomas laughed breathily through his nose, before affixing his attention back to Nicolette and his mug of wine.
“To be a child again, eh?” He spoke to the First Mate.
Thomas opened his mouth to ask after her own childhood, but he stopped. He did not know the angelic and mysterious woman well, save for her ability aboard a ship, and there was a reason for that. Secrets were a pillar of existence in Port Royal, and one’s past life was something that rarely mattered to the scallywags that called her home. Thomas decided that he would not pry, even in the vein of genuine curiosity.
Instead he decided to pursue matters of more relevance. “Lieutenant, you have been amongst traditionally trained gun crews during your time in Louie’s Navy. How does the Skate measure up in that regard? Could the men be sharper at their work?”
Wow, thank you guys so much for that info. I knew I had come to the right place to ask around. I had heard that EVE was a bit of an uphill battle for new players, but for some reason that intrigued me more. I just bought a new Razer Naga mouse for my computer, and it's begging to be used for such a game I think, though I mainly bought it for Starcraft II. Unfortunately, I don't have any personal friends that play EVE, so I'd be delving into it without that support, as you mentioned might be difficult Derren. Decisions, decisions...
Also, sorry to hear about your mishap with online credit card fraud there Dot. I have had my own bad experiences with such...*shudders*
Also, sorry to hear about your mishap with online credit card fraud there Dot. I have had my own bad experiences with such...*shudders*
Hello today, everyone. I'll go ahead and post again tonight and try to give a little caffeine to our RP. I know we have some busy peeps, so no worries. Hopefully we'll get back to a more normal schedule soon.
On another note, does anyone play EVE online? I've been thinking of diving into it, but some first hand reviews would be nice.
On another note, does anyone play EVE online? I've been thinking of diving into it, but some first hand reviews would be nice.
It's great to be back up and running again, and also great to see the newest posts flying! Keep in up, my friends.
How are we doing this week, eh? Anyone doing anything exciting?
How are we doing this week, eh? Anyone doing anything exciting?
Good morning, and happy Monday! How are you all doing today? I myself had a weekend that was 80° F, and this morning I'm waking up to below freezing and the threat of snow. Thanks Mother Nature.
Great posts to read over the weekend, as Igraine so eloquently mentioned. Who else is planning on posting soon, hmmmm?
Great posts to read over the weekend, as Igraine so eloquently mentioned. Who else is planning on posting soon, hmmmm?
Thomas smiled as Antonia started at the young boy’s touch. He had seen the boy approaching, and he had been most intrigued to see if Luc possessed the ability to sneak up upon a person as perceptive as Antonia. The fact that he had, made Thomas shiver with the thought of the skill the boy could possess should he turn to a life of wet work. If Antonia failed to notice his approach, then by God’s own wounds Thomas would be dead a thousand times over.
He studied Luc, idly wondering at the boy’s connection to the rogue. They were not related by blood, at least to the best of Thomas’ knowledge. It was yet another aspect of Antonia’s life he had not investigated. The fact that Antonia had been a slave made it almost impossible for her to be related to the family that owned the Parakeet, since it would be a true miracle for a family once riven by the slavers to ever find each other in the sprawl of the New World. Still, Thomas believed that blood had little to do with family, in the material and tangible sense anyway. He himself grew up under the fatherhood of a man that had no relation to him in blood at all, and yet, Thomas could not fathom a life without him.
As the boy took a seat beside Nicolette, Thomas took a long swig of wine from his cup, and decided that he was happy for Antonia. She had found a place here at the Parakeet that welcomed her and loved her. Despite what the men had done to rob her of her freedom so many years ago, whether directly, or by the circumstances of her birth, she had made it. She had beaten odds that Thomas could not fathom. A smile curled the corners of his lips as he took another drink. The ultimate vengeance is to make your own luck, he thought.
Thomas set the mug down, and offered the helmsman a smile and a wink. “Aye, that’s the spirit; a true pirate heart. I wager that with the Skate’s speed we can make the Serrana’s within two weeks. Hopefully, we’ll beat any Donnish ships searching for her by a fortnight, with luck on our side.”
His copper eyes moved to the First Mate, and he met her expression of skepticism with a smile.
“Indeed, I did not inquire after your opinions to sway my own mind. You’re correct, I had Dujo begin outfitting the Skate, for she will be sailing for Serrana’s. Make no mistake of that.”
Thomas shifted so he faced the beautiful pirate more fully, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. He opened his hands in a gesture of community.
“I ask after your thoughts on the matter, not for the reason of permission, but instead to aid my own thoughts. I am but a man, fallible and flawed, and though experience and cunning are always with me, I am not so filled with hubris that I cannot ask for assistance in choosing a proper course of action. Do you not agree, Lieutenant?” he said, punctuating the proper rank with a smile.
Thomas leaned back off his knees, his attention now affixed upon Luc. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, then looked to Antonia, and back once again to the boy with the light-brown skin.
“Tell me, son,” he said in a kind voice, “did they let you keep that coin I gave you earlier?”
Thomas leaned back, and gave Antonia a sharp look, “I’m betting they did not. We shall have to remedy that.”
Thomas took from his pocket another gold piece, this one plainly old, with the crown and anchor stamp of the Lima Mint. For a moment he twirled it between his long fingers, smiling with satisfaction as it moved deftly across his skin. Finally, he stopped, and held it up before the boy.
“Now, earlier I smelled the unmistakable aroma of Pound Cake baking, and if you fetch us each a hefty slice of it, you’ll earn yourself this gold to keep, for your own desires.”
Thomas’ mirthful expression turned more serious, and he lowered his voice and leaned closer to the boy. “Be mindful though, a man can change his life with just one of these.” He said shaking the coin slightly in his hand for emphasis. “A man once gave me gold, among other things, when I was young, and it provided all I have today.”
He studied Luc, idly wondering at the boy’s connection to the rogue. They were not related by blood, at least to the best of Thomas’ knowledge. It was yet another aspect of Antonia’s life he had not investigated. The fact that Antonia had been a slave made it almost impossible for her to be related to the family that owned the Parakeet, since it would be a true miracle for a family once riven by the slavers to ever find each other in the sprawl of the New World. Still, Thomas believed that blood had little to do with family, in the material and tangible sense anyway. He himself grew up under the fatherhood of a man that had no relation to him in blood at all, and yet, Thomas could not fathom a life without him.
As the boy took a seat beside Nicolette, Thomas took a long swig of wine from his cup, and decided that he was happy for Antonia. She had found a place here at the Parakeet that welcomed her and loved her. Despite what the men had done to rob her of her freedom so many years ago, whether directly, or by the circumstances of her birth, she had made it. She had beaten odds that Thomas could not fathom. A smile curled the corners of his lips as he took another drink. The ultimate vengeance is to make your own luck, he thought.
Thomas set the mug down, and offered the helmsman a smile and a wink. “Aye, that’s the spirit; a true pirate heart. I wager that with the Skate’s speed we can make the Serrana’s within two weeks. Hopefully, we’ll beat any Donnish ships searching for her by a fortnight, with luck on our side.”
His copper eyes moved to the First Mate, and he met her expression of skepticism with a smile.
“Indeed, I did not inquire after your opinions to sway my own mind. You’re correct, I had Dujo begin outfitting the Skate, for she will be sailing for Serrana’s. Make no mistake of that.”
Thomas shifted so he faced the beautiful pirate more fully, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. He opened his hands in a gesture of community.
“I ask after your thoughts on the matter, not for the reason of permission, but instead to aid my own thoughts. I am but a man, fallible and flawed, and though experience and cunning are always with me, I am not so filled with hubris that I cannot ask for assistance in choosing a proper course of action. Do you not agree, Lieutenant?” he said, punctuating the proper rank with a smile.
Thomas leaned back off his knees, his attention now affixed upon Luc. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, then looked to Antonia, and back once again to the boy with the light-brown skin.
“Tell me, son,” he said in a kind voice, “did they let you keep that coin I gave you earlier?”
Thomas leaned back, and gave Antonia a sharp look, “I’m betting they did not. We shall have to remedy that.”
Thomas took from his pocket another gold piece, this one plainly old, with the crown and anchor stamp of the Lima Mint. For a moment he twirled it between his long fingers, smiling with satisfaction as it moved deftly across his skin. Finally, he stopped, and held it up before the boy.
“Now, earlier I smelled the unmistakable aroma of Pound Cake baking, and if you fetch us each a hefty slice of it, you’ll earn yourself this gold to keep, for your own desires.”
Thomas’ mirthful expression turned more serious, and he lowered his voice and leaned closer to the boy. “Be mindful though, a man can change his life with just one of these.” He said shaking the coin slightly in his hand for emphasis. “A man once gave me gold, among other things, when I was young, and it provided all I have today.”
Haha, I try. I don't want to move the story along too much because I'd like to give some people time to catch up, have fun, and do their own thing. I'll admit I'm a little worried about some of our more distant players. You're all sorely missed! Come back and play, the water isn't that cold, I promise!
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