Recent Statuses

23 May 2017 0:10
Current Bad movie moments: "Hold on, remember that tool i mentioned earlier? Looks like it's coming in handy... wait, I forgot it." Then they were stuck and the bad guy blew up the world.
20 May 2017 17:05
Mama, life had just begun
17 May 2017 1:19
You know, I never understood why people like beer, it tastes gross and makes you act like an idiot.
6 May 2017 21:42
Whenever I go on my profile and see "Temporarily disabled" I have a mini heart attack
30 Apr 2017 4:39


Yo dog

Daily Dose of Electronica, In Flavors I DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE

Tommy isn't my real name (OR IS IT?), I'm somewhere in the ballpark of none-yo-damn-business years old.

I am Canadian born and raised, but through years of exposure to multiple accents through media and my own imitation, my voice has permanently changed to a Bostonesque accented mess of British slang and gratuitous use of the word "hoser".

I'm a fan of fantasy RPs, Sci Fi RPs, and other fantastical creations of the human mind.
I'm fairly laid-back and approachable, and I'll always try to make friends. I never mean to offend, and if I do I am quick to apologize, though my sense of humor is dark as I like my coffee, mixed with crude oil and thrown in the garbage so that it can't be given to African orphans.

IF YOU WANNA CONTACT ME: (Checking my e-mail is low on my list of priorities, one step above eating, and one step below taking a dump, take that as you will.)

My Twitter @Veni_Tom

Other Shit

Credit to Bryan Lewis Saunders for the above two images.

Most Recent Posts

Eyy, I'm in.
(Darlien Garandinar(MAIN), Omem.)

Darlien was alive.

He didn't know how, or why, or why he couldn't feel his limbs, or see, or why he felt no compulsion to breathe. He couldn't turn his head, so he simply blinked, unable to do anything else. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a rattling.

He laid there in the darkness for what felt like hours, unable to sleep or even feel from the neck down. He had no idea how he was even alive, had he not died due to the lightning? Had his body not been as horribly damaged as he thought? He could feel his eyes now, so they hadn't been fried as he had thought. His body was unfeeling, so he had no clue if his injuries were real or imagined. Probably imagined, considering he was alive.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a crash. A man in simple robes stumbled in, breathing heavily, two arrows lodged in his back. He made it to where Darlien was laying, crashing down onto the unknown object with a heavy thump. He let out a few haggard breaths out of Darlien's view, causing a small chain to rustle from near Darlien's neck.

"I will bring us immortality, I will live," he whispered between gasping breaths. Then, in the open door, a man became visible, wielding a crossbow on bowed legs. His mouth hung open and his white eyes stared blankly into the distance. Darlien had never been more terrified. He was injured beyond a mortal man's comprehension, and yet he was alive. Darlien could just see a silhouette behind him, a man in a cloak.

"You've made a mistake Damien," a voice echoed from the silhouette. "You'll never be able to control it. You should have just left well enough alone," he stated condescendingly, seemingly directing it at the half-dead man at Darlien's neck. The man who had entered first raised his crossbow, and fired a shot, it entered the half-dead man with a thump, and he groaned in agony.

"I didn't want to have to do this Damien, you should have stayed in Praelium. You should have given up."

Then the half-dead man, or Damien, he guessed, began to laugh. Harder and louder with each passing second. Then he stopped and collapsed to the floor in a heap. Just as he hit the ground, Darlien felt his body again, he felt cold metal around his neck, hard wood at his back. Pushing himself to a seat, he examined his hands. Unburnt, what a surprise. Then his nail fell out, and he sighed. Then the flesh peeled off his fingertips, leaving only bone.

Darlien felt his heart drop into his stomach. The peeling continued down his arms, no matter how loud he screamed and plead. It continued into his chest, and down his body into his legs, the flesh dropping off and then disintegrating into dust. As it reached his chin, he screamed and cried. When it reached his eyes, there was a flash.

He awoke not the same. He had memories now, of Damien watching him, of his confrontation with the Dominus, of Damien stealing his ruined corpse. Damien and Darlien both felt like names he'd been called before, and they felt equally as if they were his name. His eyes opened, and he stared at the two men who were now in front of him. The wounded crossbowman and a cloaked man, who was speechless and in awe.

"You murdered me, Kaiden."

"...Damien?" A massive skeletal hand came from the ground and wrapped itself around Kaiden, causing him to yelp and hyperventilate out of fear.

"Damien is dead, as is Darlien, I am both." The hand closed with a snap, and Kaiden's body twisted and spewed a fountain of blood. He collapsed to the ground, and the wounded man turned to dust.

Immortality had been his, but he didn't wish to share, honestly. The world was unfair, to both of his past selves. All men died, who was he to change the natural order of things?

It would all turn to dust eventually, he just needed to speed up the process, get revenge for the world's unfairness.

In this imagining, Darlien had failed to notice the cloaked men gathering around him in awe. He noticed them finally. Looking at each one up and down. He held up a hand, which was consumed in flame, they all stared, mouths agape. He would have smiled had he lips.

"Follow with me, and we'll end the age of the living."
@manapool1 Sorry man! I didn't see you in the iCheck.
(Insignificant, Forests outside Artis Port, Praelium)

This excursion had been a rousing success, and the necromancer found himself unable to contain his glee, chuckling and squeeing loudly into the forest as he hauled his prize on his back. Holding up the dead man's head, he gave it a long, wet kiss before spinning it in the air as he frolicked and twirled. He hummed to himself as he released a soul from his right hand. He still had to scout to insure that the Dominus wasn't following him. With a twirling flourish, he threw the spirit back towards the city at incredible speed.

It had returned within the next few moments, dashing through the forest at speeds unimaginable for the living. As it re-entered his body at the spine, it transferred with it its memories. The necromancer's brow furrowed as he now knew that he was going to be followed. He decided against walking from now on, he would be tracked too easily. He placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, he need not even blow, the gesture enough was capable of summoning his mount. A horrific screech called through the air, and the beast landed, sending an updraft of dirt and dust off into the air. Torn and mutilated, the glider stared at its rider, milky white eyes unblinking, only existing to serve.

On the back of this beast there would be no footprints to track, all he had to do now was make for Omem at speed, perhaps he should provide a distraction in case a glimpse was caught of him. His hands began to glow a pale blue, and with a thump on the ground, a massive wall of ice formed in the midst of the forest.

That should confuse them enough for me to escape. He decided, tying his trophy to the back of his beast.

He pulled himself on with a grunt, holding a hand over the beast's head as his magic controlled it. He looked up into the skies with a smile. Just a little longer, he reassured himself. He threw his hand up and the beast instinctively followed it, shooting into the sky with a few flaps of its mighty wings.

Staring down upon the ground from above, he smiled, telling himself that he'd have plenty of time to look over sights far greater than this once he had earned the human race its immortality.

With a gesture, he flew off into the distance, looking back at the corpse that he had risked everything to find. He smiled brightly, beginning to chuckle in glee.
(Insignificant, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium)

The man chuckled at the Dominus' reply. It was naive, they obviously had no understanding of the world's truths. The necromancer grinned as the undead dropped the corpse next to him, pulling the head from its teeth and dropping it as well. He had all he needed, he could leave anytime he wanted, but he just wished for one more opportunity to perhaps change this fool's mind.

He slashed his right hand outwards, disintegrating a mass of the undead, he no longer had a need for them, he bore them no threat and he was attempting to show that.

"You're naive is what you are, mortality is conquerable, simply accepting it shows a lack of ambition," he spoke before realizing something just afterwards. "Oh, of course you lack ambition, you're a Dominus, your purpose is to protect your country. Admirable, not that it will save you," he growled with a grin cutting across his face.

"Darlien's nature is known to me, I will take the proper precautions to ensure that he obeys me. He is a youth, and yet to reach his full potential, if all goes according to plan, he will still have much to learn," he explained matter-of-factly. "Of course, you know what they say about best laid plans. I have prepared for every eventuality, in the worst case, I seize control of his body and complete my plan alone," he said arrogantly.

"If you wish for immortality, you will accept my demands when I return, if you remain a fool, I will force it upon you," he warned as he rose a hand. He threw it downwards and the city was covered in the same dense fog as when he had first appeared, he grabbed the corpse and fled into the fog.
(Insignificant, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium)

The necromancer's body tightened as he noticed the Dominus calming, he'd dealt with many a fight in his life, and when an opponent calmed it usually meant they were planning something. When the Dominus proceeded to ask a question rather than launch an assault he too calmed, it seemed as if they didn't want to fight. He gestured at one of the undead, and it moved towards the corpse, snapping ineffectively at the Dominus as it passed.

"Have you heard of the Withered Beacon? The clan of mages who rebelled against the judgement of their betters and chose instead to forge their own path?" He questioned with a much more calm voice and demeanor. A phantom approached the Dominus and placed her hand upon their shoulder, breathing heavily. With a thrust of his palm, the necromancer forced her away. The more powerful beasts were hard to control, but he would not allow an attack without his express order.

"There are some among them who believe this world is flawed, that there needs to be... a change," he glowered at his hand, still glowing a pale white. "Death comes to all, it destroys and tears apart the love and affection we all share as people. We are conquerors of death, and my aim is to create a being that need not fear death in the first place," he rose his hand and one of the undead twisted and growled in agony, its body morphing and changing until it was a horrific, rotted mess.

"This beast is now free of rot, and as a result, it will live forever, unless..." he thrusted his palm and the beast disintegrated into a few leathery chunks of skin. "It is destroyed. What if there was an intelligent being that need not fear destruction. If there is one, there can be many, and if there is many, the human race has transcended its need for procreation and lineage, like the Elves of the north and west. My attempts require the body of a powerful mage, and if my ritual succeeds, I will create a being that has existed before, but more powerful than its predecessors. If this one immortal being exists, with power incredible, then immortality and magical power can be shared to all who desire it."

He tittered and held a finger up to his chin.

"Do you not wish to be immortal?" He asked with a grin. "Is life not beautiful? Is death not a horrific thing?" He again queried, with a bend to his voice like an old grandfather telling a tale.

"The mages seek to rob us of this bliss," he scoffed. "How selfish."

The undead locked Darlien's head in its teeth and began hoisting the headless body onto its shoulder. It stared blankly into the distance like something had been taken from it.
(Insignificant, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium.)

The man cringed when the Dominus decapitated the mage's corpse, it would make the ritual much harder to perform successfully, of course all he truly needed was the head, but the whole corpse was better. He muttered to himself in frustration but calmed quickly, he held up his fist, shaking under the burden of the powerful spells he was using.

"You're so quick to desecrate the dead, if only they could fight back," he hissed. "Now you've had your fun, you've cleared your head, exorcised the demons as it were. Now you will do as I have asked," he was beginning to grow impatient, and his body was beginning to grow tired due to the spells and the stress they put on his body. He ran a hand over his mouth, collecting any spit that had begun to condensate in the corners due to his stressing.

Enough of the fear tactics, he decided, holding up his hand. With a wave the fog departed, revealing that he had been joined by three others, all horrifically wounded with vacant stares and unsteady footing, they hissed and howled, their eyes locking onto the Dominus hungrily.

"Death comes to all, you are no exception. You may prolong your suffering and life if you wish, or you may die at the hands of the fallen. All it takes is a choice, give me the body, or die," he growled. He then held out his hand, and the dead began to stumble towards them, two armed with boards and one armored and brandishing a sword. Another gesture, and another corpse emerged from one of the flame-damaged homes, burnt to the bone and missing an arm.

The power of necromancy, banned due to the fear it brought into the hearts of men and mage alike, they were right to fear it, the power to conquer death was not one to be taken lightly. Ghouls devoured whatever they found without care, unbound by a mage's power, while his creations were subservient and brainless. The more powerful creations had the minds of men, but their power was too great to allow their creation, it was far too dangerous they said, it could be the death of them all. Of course he knew death was conquerable, so there was nothing to fear.

The corpses began to close on the dominus with a chorus of howls and snarls. The man closed his fist just before they arrived and they all halted as if a chain was locked around their throats. The form of a woman in a white dress darted above. The man smiled.

"Hand them the body, or they will kill you. And you will give me the whole body, or they will kill you the same as if you hadn't given anything."

The dead snarled and snapped their jaws like snakes attempting to feed. The man scowled and tightened his fist, and they stood completely still. He was in control here, and he would get what he was owed.
(Insignificant, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium.)

The man had been hiding for quite some time, watching the mage, he hadn't expected it to be as easy as sitting and waiting. He stroked his short beard, longcoat billowing in the wind. He had been with the mage since he first attacked Praelium, he was the perfect subject, skilled and powerful, yet youthful and arrogant, he would have been easy to kill if it had been necessary. Thankfully, the Praelians had seen fit to make it easy on him, now all he had to do was retrieve the body and begin the procedure. The others in Omem would be fascinated, and in awe, he could see them now.

But first, he had to get rid of the Praelian. He removed himself from his cover, hands behind his back and with chin raised. Holding his hand out as if he had a glass of wine within, he began to channel a spell, his hand covered in a misty white aura. He chuckled to get the mage's attention, both as a method of intimidation and a bit out of jubilant glee, he had been waiting, waiting for his chance, and now he had it, his chance at living forever in the minds of Erelith's people.

His laugh turned into a cackle, but he never dismissed his spell, it was too important to just let it go.

"Hello, Dominus," he spoke, his voice like stone sliding across a floor. "You've impressed me, but it is not you who I am here for." He looked at the pile of rubble where the young man's corpse lay, presumably burned beyond recognition, not that aesthetics were necessary, all he needed was a body.

"Now, I'll spare you the pleasantries and simply skip to the demands," his voice suddenly shifted, becoming even deeper and less contained. "The body, the mage's body, the one you just killed for me. I will be taking it now, and if that's a problem, then I assure you that we can work something..." a soft sound came from behind him as one of his fingers twitched.

He smiled and held out his hand, a soft frosty mist fell from it and coalesced on the ground as his hand ever so slightly twisted and turned, with noise again coming from behind him. He snapped his fingers, and a deep fog descended over the town. Then a silhouette... two... three... four... a rattling noise echoing through the air, the clanging of metal and the sound of a woman's voice, singing softly as if to a child.

"Though, I promise no compromises."

He grunted, utilizing such a powerful magic was difficult, but it was all necessary.

Give it to me.

A whisper echoed through the air.

Give it to me.

It repeated, this time sung by a woman's voice. A groan rended the air, and was answered by a chorus of similar groans.

"Give it, mage."
(Darlien Garandinar, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium)

Darlien laughed at the Praelian's response to his taunting. But that laugh quickly turned into a scream of horror as he failed to notice the lightning in time. He managed to get his blade up just in time to block, but it was barely any help. His entire body seethed and burned as the electricity tore into him. He screamed as his footing became less and less secure, his mind racing to find a way out.

I can get out of this, I just need to be smart, I came in too cocky, I realize that now, but this is just an atta- he screamed as his sword flew to the side and he took the full force of the blast.

Darlien, despite his body screaming in agony, managed to secure his footing, beginning to cast a spell, but being cut off as the blast again shook his whole body. He couldn't see, he couldn't smell, all he could do was feel, and all he could feel was agony. His chest suddenly lost all feeling with a bang, and a flying chunk of flesh solved that riddle for him.

He stopped thinking, he stopped breathing, and he stopped fighting.

Darlien was thrown back by the force of the spell. His body horrifically mangled by the lightning. His eyes were fried by the lightning, and he could no longer see, but for some reason, he could see clearer than ever. The flames surrounding him, the bright flash driving itself into his chest, the cloud of smoke forming in the air from the buildings and his body, the... female face of the Dominus... if he wasn't dying, it would have been prime joke fodder.

Perhaps he had been too cocky, too youthful, too quick to move. He should have waited, curse his impatience.


Huh? Darlien swore he heard something, other than his liver detonating into a mess of chunks and gore.

the fuck were you thinking?

Okay, he definitely heard something that time.

"Hey, uh, Darlien? It's dad... hey son... wha-..." The phantom that seemed to be an etherial form of his father sighed exasperatedly.


"Yeah, uh, it's dad, so... I was a powerful enough mage that I could look into the future a little bit and send you this when I died... might be black magic. Well, anyways... I just... what in god's name were you thinking?"

I-I was avenging you, I was getting revenge for your death, like a good son would.

"I didn't need... Listen, if there is an afterlife I'll talk to you there."

There won't be.

"Eugh." He half-grunted-half-sighed. Then, he was gone. Just in time for Darlien to crash through the wall of a burning barn, which then proceeded to collapse on top of him. Only an arm managed to poke its way out of the rubble, which stopped burning, as the source of the flame finally expired.

"What just happened and why?"

Pelionis e'Oranth (Side)

Lord Pelionis, Advisory General.

Pelionis is a Gnomish lord, and among the oldest and wisest gnomes. His possessions are on the outskirts of Oranth, from which he takes his last name. His lands involve a tavern and a few huts, with around fifty gnomes who work as brewers and fishermen. Pelionis received this land as a result of his position in the personal entourage of Nuncio e'Dux, current king Gennio's father.

As gnomes age quickly, the fact that Pelionis has survived as long as he has is quite exceptional. Pelionis attributes it to exercise and a good diet, but that doesn't stop witchcraft accusations, all of which Pelionis meets with confusion and astonishment.

Pelionis' life prior to his lordship is dry and uninteresting, born in Dux, moved to Oranth, joined the navy, showed talent, was promoted to generalship, became part of his king's circle, retired upon his death and re-entered the navy on a whim.

Gnomes give birth to litters of five children, and Pelionis as a result has fifteen children, he isn't pleased in the slightest. The last five were not intentional, but don't tell them that.


Pelionis, as an elder gnome, is wrinkled and with spots on his lower arms. Gnomes' skin also grays as they age, and as a result Pelionis is a light gray from head to toe. His hair is wild and uncontrollable, and he has just stopped trying to make it look nice, instead wearing a wild mane that changes from day to day. He dresses in tight, sharp, tailored clothing, the only way his wealth truly shows. He is even shorter than the average gnome at a tiny two foot five inches, and his now adult children tower over him, most a full head taller.

Pelionis formerly wore a full beard, much like most of the other gnome lords in Benaduza, but in later years he has started to shave due to his belief that he would look smarter without it, he often reaches to stroke where his beard once was, only to touch air.

He's gaunt and with an elderly shriveling to every part of him, but he still stands upright and carries himself with pride, no matter what situation he finds himself in.


Pelionis was once a lawyer prior to joining the navy, and as a result is very persuasive and quite the wordsmith, able to talk his way out of quite a large number of situations. He was taught the basics in melee combat when he volunteered, but as he had bought his way into the officer corps, his training is both rusty and incredibly basic, and he would not fare well in a fight with a skilled opponent.

Pelionis is an advisory general for a reason, and has a talent for strategy both naval and land-based, but he commands from the back, and rarely ends up fighting.


Pelionis is quiet, self-deprecating, and often befuddled by the situations he finds himself in, it's not that he's unintelligent, he just seems to have some sort of magnet that attracts oddities, not that he was going to complain, he's not a complainer, though he is snarky and prone to cracking wise.

Pelionis is a caring father, but he doesn't care much about anyone else, and is openly hostile to anyone who dares call him old. He has an aversion to change, and hates trying new things, as a result, he never learned the human languages, and speaks gnomish exclusively, though he is taking lessons on the king's orders. Pelionis is loyal and will not falter from his king's orders, no matter his own opinion on them, he does have some lines he refuses to cross, such as the killing of civilians or anything unable to defend itself.

Other Information

Age: 40
Likes: His family, his kingdom, working, money, people who leave him alone
Dislikes: Working, people who talk too much, not earning money, fighting.
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