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Recent Statuses

10 mos ago
Current RAIN OF SPIDERS (SPIDERS spiders)
4 likes
2 yrs ago
It seems today, that all you see,
2 yrs ago
Holy Spirit Activate
1 like
2 yrs ago
Remember the indigenous people of the Americas today.
5 likes
3 yrs ago
Critical Role? More like Crunchical Hole, haha. But yes, it's pretty uh... well, the Mercer Effect exists for the same reason people think porn is an accurate depiction of sex.
1 like

Bio

Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.

Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist

“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae

“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS

Most Recent Posts





I might be interested. As it happens, I'm in a OP RP already, so we'll see how this works out.
Dame Niala Evenhand



So Snowing Timber had chosen survival over pacifism. Then it seemed his weapons were not taken by choice, as hers were... as for Danyl? By the weapons in tow and the patch over one socket, it appeared he'd done much the same. Though if she recalled, hadn't he lost vision in that eye gradually anyway even before her departure? It couldn't be a pretty sight even now.

'I dare say, it is a pleasure to reacquaint with all and sundry,' she proclaimed, her earlier dourness lost again in a sea of gregariousness. 'If we've all sought our best selves, then surely it'll continue to be so-'

...hmm? Who...? Who was that? They looked... ill, almost, by the hair and the posture-

The horns spake devil. Her hand jolted reflexively, but stopped short of reaching for her blade as she recalled the nature of the tiefling: helltouched, but not necessarily hellions unto themselves. And her voice, or rather her mannerisms, seemed to indicate an unwillingness to fight. Forcing herself to relax, she stated with a smile 'I see no issue with it, madam. This is a public tavern, after all, it'd be strange if you weren't allowed access!'
Dame Niala Evenhand



She chuckled as Nathaniel took some time to recognise her, followed by a joke about her height. 'Well, time does leave its mark, after all,' she'd respond, not long before another individual entered... yet again, cat features gave away his identity. Though they were far more stern-jawed than as a younger boy, there was no mistaking Snowing Timber for anyone else in that village, a lovely sight to behold in any respect. And speaking of time, well...

'You can say that again,' she replied, her tone suddenly far less jovial. 'I assure you, I know exactly what I am fighting for; Tyr's blessing standing, I shall see my oaths to Him fulfilled.' She couldn't afford to let those who had wronged Ardenfeld escape without justice brought to them, of course. Though, if either of these men were anything like her, there was a good chance they would be brought down even if she were to pass unkindly into Tyr's arms.
Dame Niala Evenhand



Niala entered the Lying Wolverine not long after Nathaniel, fully clad in plate mail save a helmet; right, in fact, as he pulled back his hood and revealed his ears, and thereby his identity to all who might recognise them. Certainly, the shopkeeper was an interesting character in herself - Prelissa, if she presumed correctly, the innkeeper's daughter, though from his absence now seemingly just the innkeeper - but the instances where Niala had had time to interact with her were relatively few. Her own father's materials were often traded for here, though she was rarely taken along on such expeditions.

Maybe she would have come more often later in life, if he hadn't been slaughtered.

But there was no mistaking the characteristic cat ears of Nathaniel Brightwood for anything else than his signature. Smiling, she strode up to him with full intent to catch his attention, uttering boldly once she had his ear 'Well, if I weren't already counting my blessings! It has been a while, hasn't it, Nathaniel?'






Brock



Hemlock - Red - Represented in Teal, Rueyn - Siri - Represented in Orange, Brock - BCLEGENDS - Represented in Plum





Rue walked through the inky shadows that covered the building and walked into the layer of blackness, Hemlock’s fingers firmly laced in hers. Anyone who was watching them would have seen them just disappear into darkness, fading away with a few blinks, shortly before the lights went out and all was plunged further into chaos.

It isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Rueyn had implied. Yes, all he could focus on is the crimson nebula of light whom he held hands with. Here it seemed much so. Like they were in the depths of the vacuum of space, and she had grown into a far more expansive blackhole. Though there is a familiarity to it, a disconnect from his own physical body that he had grown accustomed to as Digital Ghost. It felt familiar, as familiar as traveling through a network of circuitry.

Despite this moment of reprieve, he suppose is what he would call it - sighing to himself mentally. As much as he’d like to consider himself as heartless as the rest of them, He wasn’t there at the cafeteria today. And he usually is always there. Spewing nonsense. Well, that’s not fair. A majority of it in reality is just spider facts, yet it is Froth who chose him to speak with. Hemlock didn’t do much talking, then again he never was able to get in a word edgewise when it came to Froth anyway.

“Rue,” he finally calls out, “I need another favor. I apologize that I keep asking for these.”

“Welcome to the realm of shadow,” her voice had a dark and echoing, ringing quality to it that had not been there before. “My ability to even reenter this realm in order to do whatever you and I may need has been restored because of you, stop apologizing. If it makes you feel better, consider it your apology for asking favors of me at the moment.”

She surveyed the shadowy realm around her with glowing eyes.

“Ask away.”

“There is an inmate, who wasn’t at the cafeteria,” Hemlock pauses, “He likely has no idea about the riots, and as much as I am sure he is capable by himself, he hasn’t the faintest idea on how to navigate the facility. And capable doesn’t account for endurance.”

That and well, he’s a bit naive. Perhaps, some of that innocence has rubbed away. The edges began to rub raw, yet he doubted he had the mental endurance for the task as well. Again, as much as he’d like to think he is as heartless as the rest - he doubted that Froth could make it on his own and find the entrance. And unfortunately he had to admit, he’d miss being spewed spider facts.

“Lead the way, then. Direct me.”

Hemlock hesitates. He didn’t bother to look up his cell when he was in the security room. It hadn’t crossed his mind then, “I can navigate the facility, but I don’t know specifically where he is.” He should have thought ahead.

“Goddess above,” Rue muttered a swear in Latin then sighed. “If it would help, I can bring us into the spirit realm. Your ability is EMF based, yes? Souls emit EMF, if you can lock onto him that way, we could navigate it much easier, especially if his soul appears the same colors to you as it does me.”

“Wir sprechen jetzt in anderen sprachen" he responds with a smirk towards her cursing, “Ya draznyu.” Right. Where was he? English. English. Spirit Realm? “I can see spirits, yes, well the EMFs they admit. I used to never mind that’s not important. I know what his signature is like, it’s the color of Froth. It is “purple”, but not really purple, just perceived as purple and then there are little bits of EMFs that pop and fizzle from time to time.” If that made any sense, probably most likely to her.

Rue rolled her eyes at his teasing her in German and began the process of rapidly going intangible and shifting their souls and bodies into the spirit realm, the darkness around them fading away to be replaced by a hazy, muted version of the world around them, everything outside of the spirit realm seeming to move slightly slowly and with a faded trail of movement. To Hemlock, it might feel as if he was stepping from the forest and into a foggy clearing.

“Alright, then, what general direction should I be heading from here?”

The Spirit Realm? In all of his years of study - well this is fantastic. So fantastic that he has completely lost himself to the sounds of the disembodied static voices he could barely make out. The dead murmurs. Flickers of light appeared here and there, “I had been studying spirits, and the spirit realm.” he says excitedly, “I used to investigate ghosts, and equipment in fact.” Right. He’s supposed to be looking for Brock in the facility. He’d love to stay here, study it, record it, but they had an escape to continue escaping. Searching. Scanning. Closing his eyes and attempting to tap into the map of the facility in his head while using the flickering of energy.

“West wing,” he points, “In the middle cell. There are others there. The riot has begun. Guards. Inmates. Most likely.”

“I’ve been around them since I was born,” she replied. “I understand them in a different way than you do, I understand what ties them here long after their bodies have given way. I feel their calls when their physical forms give out, are destroyed. I lead them to their peace if I can. It’s my duty as a Reaper.”

She took his words in and led them in the direction of the west wing, making note of the hallway and each exit. Of the rusty, brownish facility, seemingly constructed out of one giant square shape, and noting that there was only one way in and out of the facility. At least, for those who couldn’t travel the way she could.

She saw bodies of guards and inmates alike strewn on the floor, could feel the many souls that now screamed in anger and fear, tormented by the idea of forever being trapped here in this hellhole of an excuse for a building.

Rue made a note to take as many as she could to where they needed if she could. Perhaps after the breakout, after she was finally home, perhaps she could come back in spirit form to help them. She hated their suffering tugging at her own soul but shook such thoughts from her mind and stopped when she saw him.

Ahead was a tall, massive, man about eight feet tall with bulging muscles currently ragdolling guards and inmates alike as if they were made out of sacks of flour. Rue gave a rumbly demonic purr at the sight of the one who was responsible for all of the carnage, forgetting the agony of the spirits trapped behind, claws itching for a challenge now that those godsforsaken cuffs were off.

Sticking a head out, just like Hemlock described, is a man who pops up. Idiot, the large man notices the purple popping man sticking his head out of his cell. The large man takes his massive paw size hand and grabs the collar of the young man’s shirt, dragging him up.

“Eh heh, gonna snap you like a twig, and the rest of you,” he challenged, pointing to Rueyn, who responded with an excited growl, a wild, manic grin under her mask.

Seee… he had heard the initial noise of people fighting, eventually the noise dying down, and he’d decided to just spend a bit of time in his cell. He had lunch, he wasn’t about to go anywhere. Which was a shame, because he’d wanted to talk to Lock today… apparently, today wasn’t that kind of day. The cell doors opened up, and then he’d heard somebody rampaging out in the hall, and just as it started growing quiet he’d decided to stick his head out and check if the coast was clear. First thing he saw, the real big guy on this cell block.

Second thing, the same guy’s hand lifting him off the ground, which he reacted to initially with a rapid punch to the head! To no effect, because he could hit pretty hard, but not hard enough to take down an actual human tank.

Third thing was Lock, with that one demon lady Ruin or whoever. Rune, Ruin? Now that did put a smile on his face!

“Hey, Lock!” he called out, grinning widely. “Nice to see you! Didn’t think I’d get the chance-”

“Oi! this is no friendly reunion, we ain’t meetin’ up at some damn high scool,” Mammoth interjects.

“Well I mean yeah,” Brock continued, “but like, I wanted to see him today, and then I didn’t get to yet, but now we-”

“Are you his boyfriend or somethin’?” Mammoth interrupts again and barks.

“I’d like to mention that in this current social structure, that may not necessarily be an acceptable comment to make. With that said, I understand the usage is meant to degrade someone. Hmm, right, Brock we’ve apparently come to rescue you it seems,” it takes a lot of effort to project his voice in a hall like this, he’s not the loudest speaker.

“Oh! Yaaay! Er, from him,” he asked, tilting his head over at the big guy, “or in a more general sense, like from the loud fighting stuff that’s happening?”

“Both,” Hemlock has reserved to looking at a spot in the hallway, instead of attempting to look at anyone, yet he awkwardly moves his head towards Rueyn, “Should we interv-
-and she’s already charging ahead. He'll let her do her thing then.

Rue’s instincts were singing with battle-lust as she crouched like a large cat before launching herself at the large man. She closed the distance between them in a single breath, punching him in the stomach with great force and grabbing the wrist that currently held Brock.

Doubling back Mammoth from being punched into the gut, his grip on the young man loosening, feeling her massive grip,tis witch is crazy got ah a bloodlusty look in her eye didn’t she? Tugging his wrist back, not to escape from her grip, but to pull himself slightly back, grounding his heels into the floor, using his stance to spring forward using her strength like a rubber band to push Brock into Rueyn.

Rue caught the young man with her other arm with ease and narrowed her eyes, as the force of doing so knocked her mask from her face, revealing the skeletal bone structure of her lower face, staring from the tip of her nose to the bottom of her jaw, smoky black mist covering the spaces between her teeth as well as the inside of her mouth from view. She growled and tossed Brock over her hip like she used to toss her daughter when they were playing, a move that allowed the smaller being to simply somersault without harm.

Rue grabbed Mammoth’s other wrist and wrenched both of his arms down towards her hips to unbalance him, her knee coming up into his stomach as he fell forward, trying to wind him so she could take him out and neutralize but not necessarily kill him. As far as she knew, he’d mistaken Brock for another threat, and therefore punishing him with death wasn't fair to her. She’d rather kick his ass out cold or injure him badly enough to leave him there.

Being bent forward his eyes widen a crooked grin on his face. Rolling himself over her knee he stands on his hands wrapping his large thighs around her neck yanking her forward to throw her to the ground.

“Aye, likely wasn’t expecting that, me muscles ain’t just for show,” Mammoth gloats, turning his head to the other man down the hall, “Oi. Bonsey. Skeletor?” he notices the man frowns, “Okay. Okay. That ain’t so funny. Get her off of me. I can help ya out.”

Rue laughs when he wraps his thighs around her neck, and simply melts into the shadow realm, avoiding being thrown to the ground, the large man dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes with a resounding smack of a body on concrete.

“Wut in the bloody fuck! I don’t want to be fuckin’ posessed!” Mammoth shouts in surprise, “I am gettin’ out of here!” He had other plans anyway. Thinking of his next big heist, couldn’t do that if he was going to get possessed. He begins to run down the hall, breaking through the wall into the next level of prison cells. Does he know he’s going to simply be running through the underground?

“Well, that was both unexpected, and bothersome,” Hemlock mentions, “But it sounds like we have a way out.” he gives a dry laugh, “Brock, are you well?”

Rue reappeared, laughing her ass off at the sight of a massive man running away and through an entire wall in fear of being possessed, a power she didn’t even have.

“Holy shit,” she cackled, retrieving her mask from where it had skittered to a stop near the badly mutilated corpse of an inmate, the man’s angry spirit sulking nearby. “Did you hear him? Practically ran for the hills crying for his momma.” She slipped her mask back on after wiping away the blood and grime that had gathered on it before returning to where Brock and Hemlock were, looking over both of them for any potential injuries.

“I did not hurt you when I tossed you out of the way, did I?” she asked, her voice flat but curious. “It was to prevent you from gaining any harm done to you.”

“Well,” Brock began, rolling over and off his front where he’d been chucked like a bag in a car tumbling over itself, “I’ve been kind of figuring out what to do after that, just like waiting until the big guy was gone, and I think I bit my tongue too. I’m fine otherwise though. It’s good to see you, Lock,” he added with a smile. Lock was great, brilliant to chat with.

He takes a second to “look” at Brock. He wouldn’t say Brock is his favorite person in the world, though that comes off cold. He’s merely used to being on his own, small talk and it’s otherwise underused substantial talk were not his usual interest. Most of the time talking to Brock involved Hemlock doing a lot of listening, he preferred it, simply he preferred also not to be talked to. Still, Brock deserved a chance of escape.

“There’s currently an escape plan happening at the moment, you weren’t at the cafeteria to be filled in with the details. I had Rueyn take us here in order to guide you towards the exit,” he shifts to the matter at hand, “It’s good to hear though that you have not become a splatter on the walls.” he attempts a weak smile.

So many people today. So many personalities to juggle. Brock usually had a relatively young mentality and it seemed Rueyn might be a bit over enthusiastic. Not everyone is aware of every ability he had, which is how he preferred it anyway. Likely he could coast through this riot, as the hacking, meek, blind man. For as long as people believed it. Something about being defined as such brought him back to the days of being a runaway teenager, who got a hold of people’s bank accounts being lost and blind and “scared”. They would give him their phones so he could call someone, what he really did was tap into their phones to take their money. Countless of accounts that he would take small sums of money from. He could continually dip into. Unless they noticed something and closed their accounts. Though easy to trace them, when he had their name and addresses. He used to have them stored on a file. Not the time to have introspection of the past, however.

If people wanted to see him as small. And fragile. He’d let them for now. It worked on the guards for so long. It’s the only reason he’s out here and not in that Faraday Cage. They thought he was incapable. They thought he was one of the “good prisoners”. So they let him get away with things they shouldn’t have, their facility, partially his now because of their miscalculation.

“Oh, awesome, an escape plan. And yeah, it’s good not to be a splatter!” Brock agreed, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t want to end up with my insides turned to goo… I mean, I know I’ve said this to you before Lock, but not to Miss Ruin- Rune? Whichever, so fun fact, did you know that the initial bite a spider does on prey isn’t generally what turns their insides to mush?” He sat up so he could explain better, his arms waving around a bit as he did. “See, when they want to feed, they inject digestive enzymes into the dead creature, and those are what fully dissolve their guts and stuff so that the spider can suck them up and toss the husk away. I don’t need to do that, obviously, because uh, I have my stomach that works fine, and I don’t want to puke on my food and suck that up either. We have saliva with enzymes in it also. Are you spitting on all of your food before putting it in your mouth? I didn’t think so.” He folded his arms, nodding to himself. It was weird, he’d never thought about it until that one doctor guy brought it up years ago.

“Speaking of, that’s some crazy jaw stuff you have there, Rune,” he pointed out, tilting his head curiously. “How’d that happen? Did they melt part of your face when they captured you? Was it an acid attack? Oh, I hope not, that’d be painful… or is it just like how your face is?”

“Good to know you are alright for the most part,” Rue rumbled in reply. “I knew they didn’t inject their prey with it immediately but I didn’t know the rest, to be honest.”

“The name is Rueyn,” she rumbled, a growl of annoyance in the undertones of her voice at Brock’s misnaming of her. “As in, ‘Don’t touch my mask or I’ll ruin your chances of being able to hold a spoon by yourself when I break your fingers.”

She wasn’t trying to be mean just to be mean, but she was edgy, ready to get the fuck out of the hellhole she had endured for the last two decades and two years and had no patience for stupid shit at the moment. She quirked a pierced red eyebrow at Brock when he mentioned some “crazy jaw stuff” going on with her face, asking if she had been disfigured somehow or if it was just her face.

He’s fucking lucky he didn’t run away screaming in horror, unlike the rest of these fuckers. He lives only because I don’t want to waste time, and also because I owe Lock for freeing my powers.

“No. I’m not disfigured, not in the way you mean,” she couldn’t help the small growl in her reply, forever reminded that she was a monster to everyone, even other people who would be considered monsters as well. “I was born with my lower face exposed like this, it’s a common feature for my race. You’re one of the very few who hasn’t ran away screaming in terror upon seeing it, though, so I’ll let the unintended rudeness slide.”

She rumbled again, grouchy and wanting to get on with the escape that they were currently in the midst of.

“We can discuss the many ways my body and limbs have been disfigured over my extensively long life, later,” the perpetual raspy and growl voice that had earned her the fear of many an inmate and guard alike was back for the moment, the Reaper was done playing around.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here before I get pissy and start ripping limbs from bodies indiscriminately.”

“Oh- shit, I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, stiffening up slightly. “I wasn’t meaning to insult you. I just was looking at the jaw, because it was cool, right? And like, because with spiders, they have the fangs, right? The reason for that is that most insects and arthropods don’t have endoskeletons- spiders do, they’re just collagen and some hard plates though, no bones- but they have exoskeletons, and those are made of chitin. So, they’re difficult to break through at that size,” he explained, his arms no longer stiff as they moved around in explanation - though wherever they were going, he’d make sure to follow on from them accordingly as he spoke. “But, because of how focusing pressure at a very small point works, it’s actually a lot easier to pierce through chitin, and so you get a very large number of insects and arachnids with piercing-

“Oh! I forgot to thank you for coming to grab me from out of here!” he realized with a shock. Crap, he did need to do that! “It’s rude of me not to say thanks, so thanks Rueyn for getting the big guy off of me, and I assume it was Hemlock who said to come get me, so thank you Hemlock for doing that- You uh, I mean I hope it’s not too much bother, coming to get me that is. I know it winds up being a bit of a detour, since… I don’t even know what’s actually going on. Could you explain, Lock? Because, because, I assume there’s a riot or something happening, but I don’t actually know what the deal is, I’ve just been hiding out in my cell until you showed up.”

Truth is that he’s drowned them both out. Attempting to navigate with the information that he has received from the security camera. It would be easier to navigate with a full scope of the place though, main control room? It’s dawned on him that Brock has asked him a question. Should he bother to answer? The answer seems relatively obvious to him.

“We’re escaping, follow or don’t Brock,” Lock tells them both, though the statement is for Rueyn just as much as it’s for Brock.

Starting to lead by walking forward navigating the prison is more like a sense for him. He’s not really seeing the facility. Only sensing the layout. The one plugged into his mind.

Perhaps that came off too harsh, “I am heading to the main control room. To seize the entire facility, not just the security system. I’ll have full control of the lights, the generators, the cells, and so on and so forth. This is child’s play, I have done it before, and their system is not my system, so it’s nowhere nearly as secure. I have seen multiple points of structural weakness within their network.”

He smirks. You’ve done this to yourselves. Keeping them locked up like flightless birds. He had a surprise for them.
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