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Recent Statuses

17 days ago
Current If I find out any of my writing partners are using AI to write their posts I'm gonna wind up on the news
7 likes
17 days ago
fuck
1 like
1 mo ago
As long as you don't asspull the ability to shut off magic like ATLA did, then yeah ATLA is peak
2 likes
1 mo ago
every single writer on this website does a better job than joanne
3 likes
2 mos ago
Hello sir you dropped your inside thought
2 likes

Bio


But in a capital-S kinda way.


I invented necromancy and the windmill. I beat the sun in a poker match during the summer of 1273 and God hasn't felt the same since.


Most Recent Posts


Leah Jordan

Location: Framework
Skills: Battlefield Manipulation
Today’s Fit





Fuck yeah! Ganon was starting to sink into the sand. Good enough to slow him down, but the big motherfucker likely had more tricks up his sleeves… Well, he wasn’t wearing a damn shirt, but maybe he had more tricks in that giant crater of his. Leah noticed he was starting to get stuck, but surely that alone wouldn’t be enough to immobilize the fucker. Leah, being the resident crowd controller and reshaped of playing fields, was in a position to keep immobilizing him further. ”The less he moves, the easier he is to burn down,” She said, looking over to Vicky. ”’ll keep him stuck.“

Leah swung her arm up and at an angle. The ground swelled and shot up from far enough away that it was made of solid stone and not sand. The distance made the spike crumble under its own weight before it made contact… She tried again and the same thing happened, only leaving crumbling stones on the sand with Ganon. The third, though… Leah made the third spike thicker. The type of rock she had to work with must’ve been brittle, but this time it sunk straight into Ganon’s right arm. That would make it much more difficult to swing that axe, and to get out of the sand pit or even turn around if someone were to hit him from behind.

”There, now hit him with something!”
go right ahead, thats why ive been waiting lol

once Dragonheart hits the ground shit is gonna go from zero to a hundred instantly, and someone is getting their ass beat and I don't wanna derail something else already in motion


Jack Hawthorne

Location: Limbo
Skills: Extra-planar Navigation
Spells:
Outfit




The last time Ororo and Jack said a word to each other, Jack was a scared kid with no sense of direction. Another person might consider this to be no different from the Jack of today, but the difference between them both was that now it was a strength. One with nothing to lose was free beyond measure. This was the Jack that Ororo was less familiar with. When he turned his back on her and Xavier, he felt like he didn't belong there. He didn't trust people, or feel there was anything for him there. In a way, he was right- He wasn't a mutant. They didn't care, but neither did he. Jack always struggled with relating to people. He could pour his heart out to them and commit the most profound acts of kindness the world had ever seen, but he in every group of friends he had, Jack never identified with them. Though it wasn't always for a lack of trying. During his time with the X-Men, Jack tried so very hard to belong. It was draining, and weighed him down to the point he could only feel like he lagged further behind than when he started. Ororo was like a polar opposite to Jack in that sense. She was incredibly gifted in magic just as he was, and yet she was Storm. Fitting it was, that opposites had a way of gravitating to each other.

"I can imagine that she is. Belasco caused her unspeakable pain... He will never hurt her, or anyone else again." Say it, you idiot. Tell her.

After a stretch of silence, he did.

"...I may never have the chance to say this to you again. Leaving all of you behind was selfish. You had all done so much for me, and I repaid that kindness by disappearing. I don't even remember where I went, it could have been as far as Genosha or back to the Everdark. I will never be able to make up for that." How old was he when he gave up one of the few homes he could've had? 15? 16? Some things blurred together so much that there were entire faces and voices Jack couldn't remember. He needed to get back to Ananym, Madalyn and Annika... But an old friend deserved more time. And time worked differently in Limbo. They would be fine. Jack knelt down on the grass beside Ororo, to rest. "It often... Pains me to think of what could have been. I hope that, if nothing else, you too have found peace in this place."
This may be a good time to write Dragonheart flying over actually...




“Blessed” to have a guide is an interesting choice of words that doesn’t get a remark out of her. What does get a remark out of Katrina however, would be the allegedly sacred daggers that Osric pulled out. Katrina suppressed the urge to gag. The color from her face drained slightly. ”Sacrosanct or not, you’re going out there, the first thing you’ve got to understand is that you’d best not be pushing for a chance to stab any demons with those things. You get close enough that those things get their use, you get close enough to have your bloody head shredded off.” Katrina, the roving demonologist who stabbed things and lived under rocks, was saying this to a monk and… Hunter? She didn’t care though. These people hadn’t been outside this village in a while, if ever. Katrina experienced things they hadn’t, and those things were going to keep them all alive.

”Don’t rely on getting in arm’s reach of a demon, else you’re dead to rights and back. You’re not Omida.”

And then came her friend with benefits.

Revna just seemed to appear out of nowhere when the anklebiter was giving Katrina the funny looks. Revna scooped her up and bear-hugged her. Did they know each other? Katrina wasn’t particularly aware of Revna’s social life- the thing she understood most about Revna were the tall woman’s curves. But being another outsider, this sorry shitshow was one leg closer to surviving the first hour past the barrier.

”She’d better be a devil with that bow of hers. Safest bet between that, a sword and some shiny daggers too big to throw. Unless one or both of you can conjure up some holy flame from the sky, I’m not betting on either of you in a knuckle-bang with demons of the Deep.” Katrina may have been cynical about her outlook on this, but her point was that discretion is the better part of valor, especially in the apocalypse. Ever the optimist, Katrina looked around. Revna did have a point about the group.

”Give me a break- There will be others, won’t there? Surely.”


I have arrived
Hi me it’s me the tank writer

Not dead, just hanging back still so everyone can do things and interact before I storm the gates lol.

More characters are always awesome.

The bigger we get the more it seems like a discord server would be helpful to communicate back and forth. If anyone needs help I can set one up.

What do you think about that? @Ace of flames01




Katrina had gone back to the Forlorn Hope for a bit to consider what that Osric guy has said. She made her decision over a cup of beer that tasted like watered down grog and tasted half as strong. She thought these people would be a bit less pitiful, but they were in just as sorry and sad a state as her journey all the way to these damn mountains. If anyone was going to deal with demons, they may as well have had an expert that didn't spend all her days holed up in some monastery. Katrina trudged her way down to the center of the village. She was a bit more rugged in her appearance- Katrina wore a long leather cloak with an occasional tattered bit of damage around the edge. Under it, she wore a rough fabric shirt and thick worker's gloves. She showed very little skin in general. She had a somewhat large satchel slug around her side and a sheathed dagger on her left hip. As she approached the two horses, Katrina saw Osric and some... Literal child talking to him while armed with a bow and arrows. They were talking to each other like they knew one another.

Katrina approached them. She lowered the hood of her cloak and they could now see her face. Faint scars littered the corners of her face. But the more striking thing was her uncannily blood-red eyes, which made one's spine feel a chill when they made eye contact. She wasn't particularly tall, but something about her felt... Ominous.

"What in Heaven's damned name is there a kid on this pilgrimage of yours for?" She asked, as she made her presence properly known. "Heard about your plan to take that cup to the priory. I've been that way before, and you damn sure aren't surviving between the two of you. Name's Katrina. Came to keep you from getting yourself killed past the barrier." Her arms were crossed, and she had something of a resting bitch face going on. Not a particularly soft atmosphere to give off for first impressions.
Katrina's just gonna barge in like "whats with the child"
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