I was catching up on the IC, and @Crimmy, I want to congratulate you.
"Lonnbeimnech Taranaich" is two results short of a Googlewack
That's pretty impressive.
"Lonnbeimnech Taranaich" is two results short of a Googlewack
That's pretty impressive.
Crimson Raven
Member
*Rolls a Nat 1*
STATUS: 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. 6 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 5009 (1.23 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- Crimson Raven 11 yrs ago
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Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Most recent →
LiverisGood,
The Raven Calls,
Fish of Oblivion
Status
Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Current
'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
6 yrs ago
I say the words that I wish someone would tell me in vain hope that they might be returned to me.
2
likes
6 yrs ago
Existence continues.
6 yrs ago
So much I want to do, so little time...
1
like
6 yrs ago
“I’ve met some pricks in my time. But you, sir...” He said to the offending cactus.
7
likes
Bio
“NO ADMITTANCE.
NOT EVEN TO AUTHORISED PERSONNEL.
YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME HERE.
GO AWAY.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
NOT EVEN TO AUTHORISED PERSONNEL.
YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME HERE.
GO AWAY.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
NOTICE
Thank you for Noticing This Notice.
Your Noting it has been Noted.
And it has been Reported to the proper Authority.
Hello lurker/ My old friend/ I've come to talk to you again/ Because a shadow softly creeping/ Lurking in the chat while I was sleeping/ And the roleplay that was forming in my brain/ Still remains with the sound of lurking.
In dead roleplays I walked alone/ Narrow pathways of casual zone...
Need mor ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
(Made in collaboration with @hatakekuro)
It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them to be in. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.
--Douglass Adams
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
~~As You Like It, Shakespear
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
~~ Macbeth, Shakespear
“All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.”
“The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.”
“What do you know?”
“Almost everything. That almost part can be a real kick in the teeth sometimes.”
“What do you want, then?”
“What I can’t have.” Wit turned to him, eyes solemn. “Same as everyone else, Kaladin Stormblessed.”
"Two blind men waited at the end of an era, contemplating beauty. They sat atop the world’s highest cliff, overlooking the land and seeing nothing.
'Can beauty be taken from a man?' the first asked the second.
'It was taken from me,' the second replied. 'For I cannot remember it.' This man was blinded in a childhood accident. 'I pray to the God Beyond each night to restore my sight, so that I can find beauty again.'
'Is beauty something one must see then?' the first asked.
'Of course. That is it’s nature. How can you appreciate a work of art without seeing it?'
'I can hear a work of music,' the first said.
'Very well, you can hear some kinds of beauty - but you cannot know full beauty without sight. You can know only a small portion of beauty.'
'A sculpture,' the first said. 'Can I not feel its curves and slopes, the touch of the chisel that transformed common rock into uncommon wonder?'
'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a sculpture.'
'And what of the beauty of food? Is it not a work of art when a chef crafts a masterpiece to delight the tastes?'
'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a chef’s art.'
'And what of the beauty of a woman,' the first said. 'Can I not know her beauty in the softness of her caress, the kindness of her voice, the keenness of her mind as she reads philosophy to me? Can I not know this beauty? Can I not know most kinds of beauty, even without seeing it?'
'Very well,' said the second. 'But what if your ears were removed, your hearing taken away? Your tongue taken out, your mouth forced shut, your sense of smell destroyed? What if your skin were burned so that you could no longer feel? What if all that remained to you was pain? You could not know beauty then. It can be taken from a man.'"
The messenger stopped, cocking his head to Shallan.
"What?" she asked.
"What think you? Can beauty be taken from a man? If he could not touch, taste, smell, hear, see, what if all he knew was pain? Has that man had beauty taken away from him?"
"I…" What did this have to do with anything? "Does the pain change day by day?"
"Let us say it does," the messenger said.
"Then beauty, to that person, would be the times when the pain lessens. Why are you telling me this story?"
The messenger smiled. "To be human is to seek beauty, Shallan. Do not despair, do not end the hunt because thorns grow in your way. Tell me, what is the most beautiful thing you can imagine?"
...
“In this,” Wit said, “as in all things, our actions give us away. If an artist creates a work of powerful beauty – using new and innovative techniques – she will be lauded as a master, and will launch a new movement in aesthetics. Yet what if another, working independently with that exact level of skill, were to make the same accomplishments the very next month? Would she find similar acclaim? No. She’d be called derivative.
“So it’s not beauty itself we admire. It’s not the force of intellect. It’s not the invention, aesthetics, or capacity itself. The greatest talent we think a man can have?” He plucked a final string. “Seems to me that it must be nothing more than novelty.”
"A blind man awaited the era of endings," Wit said, "contemplating the beauty of nature."
Silence
"That man is me," Wit noted. "I'm not physically blind, just spiritually. And that other statement was actually very clever, if you think about it."
"What is it to be witty, then?”
“To say clever things.”
“And what is cleverness?”
“I…” Why was he having this conversation? “I guess it’s the ability to say and do the right things at the right time.”
The King’s Wit cocked his head, then smiled.
“Expectation. That is the true soul of art. If you can give a man more than he expects, then he will laud you his entire life. If you can create an air of anticipation and feed it properly, you will succeed.
“Conversely, if you gain a reputation for being too good, too skilled . . . beware. The better art will be in their heads, and if you give them an ounce less than they imagined, suddenly you have failed. Suddenly you are useless. A man will find a single coin in the mud and talk about it for days, but when his inheritance comes and is accounted one percent less than he expected, then he will declare himself cheated.”
Wit shook his head, standing up and dusting off his coat. “Give me an audience who have come to be entertained, but who expect nothing special. To them, I will be a god. That is the best truth I know.”
~~ Stromlight Archive, Brandon Sanderson
"You see, whether you can draw like this or not, being able to think up this kind of design, it depends on whether or not you can say to yourself, ‘Oh, yeah, girls like this exist in real life. If you don’t spend time watching real people, you can’t do this, because you’ve never seen it. Some people spend their lives interested only in themselves. Almost all Japanese animation is produced with hardly any basis taken from observing real people, you know. It’s produced by humans who can’t stand looking at other humans. And that’s why the industry is full of otaku!"
-Hayao Miyazaki
"In culture an analogous situation leads to the emergence of enclaves shut up in ghettos, where intellectual production likewise stagnates because of inbreeding in the form of incessant repetition of the selfsame creative patterns and techniques. The internal dynamics of the ghetto may appear to be intense, but with the passage of years it becomes evident that this is only a semblance of motion, since it leads nowhere, since it neither feeds into nor is fed by the open domain of culture, since it does not generate new patterns or trends, and since finally it nurses the falsest of notions about itself, for lack of any honest evaluation of its activities from outside."
~Stanislaw Lem, author of Solaris
Some heartfelt music while you lurk
Or U liSTEN TO tem MOOSIC!
I just don't want you to have a Bad Time...
What do I live for?
"I think I've seen this movie before." -@Guess Who
I LOVE TVTROPES!
Most Recent Posts
Well, looks like I need to shake off the rust and get to work.
*sigh*
I'll be posting sometime this century.
Hopefully.
I've been sick for the past few days, and catching up on homework is hell.
Especially since the end of the quarter is tomorrow. No wait, its past midnight. Today then.
I'll be posting sometime this century.
Hopefully.
I've been sick for the past few days, and catching up on homework is hell.
Especially since the end of the quarter is tomorrow. No wait, its past midnight. Today then.
@Crimson Raven@Caits@Zarkun
Hey, just so ya'll know for the Black Knights/White Stars collab, I'm having it set late december so all the characters are already back.
Just so you know.
Ah, I was actually just about to ask about that.
In
Fire Emblem - Dimensions (Open Beta for FE Tabletop) [Always Accepting]
→
9 yrs ago
Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
THE IC IS UP, I REPEAT, THE IC IS UP
*collapses*
I feel like that messenger. Finding all those names was more difficult then the post itself.
In honor of @Leslie Hall
Deacon Peter glanced nervously at the sky. Dark Clouds loomed closer and closer to the town. I hope it doesn't rain. He thought. No doubt they would have the ceremony anyway, and I'm too old to stand in the rain. He stopped to talk with a man he recognized. This man was in charge of the workers who labored to build the grand stage, and the ones who were to make sure everything was working properly. So far, everything was perfect, the stage, a massive raised semi-circle with a curtain that could be drawn, and doors set in the floor for the various acts was finished ahead of schedule. The props were just being finished and everyone set to preform, give a speach, as he himself would, or work behind the scenes was accounted for. Except for Elvira, but for security purposes, she was to come last during the show itself. But dispite this, or maybe because of it, Deacon Peter couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. He dismissed the manager and continued his survey. He took great pains to avoid Mother Superior when their paths crossed. He never was too fond of the Sisterhood, their policy of requiring families to give up their daughters to their service created an endless stream of headaches for him; families rarely understood why they must give up their children. Of course, he found the practice disturbing, but he kept his opinions carefully hidden. He had worked his way up to Deacon, and he wasn't about to let all that hard work go to waste. Besides, he idly thought, as he shook hands with various dignitaries. It wasn't as if they were going to murder them.
An hour later, He stood in front of a vast crowd of people with every eye on him, droning on about the responsibilities of every citizen in Librarium, and how this was such a proud moment for their little Town of York to produce a Sister who was chosen to ascend.
Above him, the first few raindrops begain to fall.
The Smiling Parrot
Before the Guild members in the Smiling Parrot could leave, there came a sudden loud pounding at the door that startled everyone. The next second, the door was kicked open and soldiers burst through, with the one at the head wearing livery denoting him as a man of some rank. He surveyed the room, his lip curled in disgust. Drunkards and lowlifes one and all. He sneered. There was brief moment of crystalline tension, during which no one moved or spoke. Then the lead soldier grunted and proclaimed, "All citizens and visitors are required to be at the ceremony in the town square. No excuses. A few of my men will escort you there. To ensure your safety, of course." His tone brooked no argument.
With that, he spun on his heel and stode out, with about half of his force following him. The rest would stay behind to wake the drunks, search the rooms, then lead the customers and the proprietor to the town square.
"At least Ye coul' pay fo' me door while yer at it." Maude muttered. She looked up and adressed the molty lot before her. "Aight, you lots. Looks like me bar's closin' early taday. Don't worry 'bout payment, last round was on te house. Be sure and tank the good soldier boys for tat. Now, ev'ry one of ye are on your own. Keep yer drunk wits about ye and don't go causin' no trouble, or there'll be hell ta pay, you 'ear me?" She said sternly, her gaze resting on Lazulin most of all.
Smiling Parrot, Upper rooms
Theodore watched Kage wave her hands around with a mystified look on his face. "Lass, you know I don't understand your hand waving. Either come or stay, your choice." He said, irritated, then leaped out the window. Kage made a rude gesture after him, but she followed suit, her cloak fluttered oddly as she fell. She found Theodore peaking around the corner. "Shit, soldiers." He hissed. They backed away when they heard a shout. "Hey! You two!" Another group of soldiers stomped up to them. "All citizens are to attend the ceremony! You're coming with us!" Theodore glanced at Kage, and she lifted her shoulders into a shrug. They seemed to have no choice, unless they wanted to make a scene. They ended up being herded there with the rest of the Smilling Parrot group.
En Route to Town Center
At Whirlwind's words she stiffened against Ulysses. "Kind words, sir." She said in her usual monotone, with a small curtsy. She said no more as she let herself be guided out the door. The journey was quiet and tense, every step they took, Elvira visably grew more and more tense. Her little feet would occasionally drag, and she slowed and shortened her footsteps. She also gripped Ulysses tighter and tigher, her little hand putting out an impressive amount of force for her size. Her knuckles had tuned bone white, her jaw clenched, and her hand became sweaty and clammy. It was obvious something was wrong with her, but with Whirlwind leading the way, he didn't notice.
Elsewhere around Town
About that time, a harried and dirty messanger ran up to Marth and Marianna. He skidded to a stop then leaned over, with his a hands on his knees, gasping and wheezing for breath. He was young, and in good shape, but it was quite clear that he was exhausted. Awkwardly and unaware of the delicate situation, he tiredly saluted the two. "Orders...all citizens..and officers...are to attend the...ceremony. Soldiers are...to round up stragglers and escort them...there. Then take up...their posts around..town." His message delivered, he limped off, obviously off to spread the the word.
Deacon Peter glanced nervously at the sky. Dark Clouds loomed closer and closer to the town. I hope it doesn't rain. He thought. No doubt they would have the ceremony anyway, and I'm too old to stand in the rain. He stopped to talk with a man he recognized. This man was in charge of the workers who labored to build the grand stage, and the ones who were to make sure everything was working properly. So far, everything was perfect, the stage, a massive raised semi-circle with a curtain that could be drawn, and doors set in the floor for the various acts was finished ahead of schedule. The props were just being finished and everyone set to preform, give a speach, as he himself would, or work behind the scenes was accounted for. Except for Elvira, but for security purposes, she was to come last during the show itself. But dispite this, or maybe because of it, Deacon Peter couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. He dismissed the manager and continued his survey. He took great pains to avoid Mother Superior when their paths crossed. He never was too fond of the Sisterhood, their policy of requiring families to give up their daughters to their service created an endless stream of headaches for him; families rarely understood why they must give up their children. Of course, he found the practice disturbing, but he kept his opinions carefully hidden. He had worked his way up to Deacon, and he wasn't about to let all that hard work go to waste. Besides, he idly thought, as he shook hands with various dignitaries. It wasn't as if they were going to murder them.
An hour later, He stood in front of a vast crowd of people with every eye on him, droning on about the responsibilities of every citizen in Librarium, and how this was such a proud moment for their little Town of York to produce a Sister who was chosen to ascend.
Above him, the first few raindrops begain to fall.
The Smiling Parrot
Captain Abrose @Denny, Lazulin Mulciber, Marianne Shimizu @Raijinslayer, Asahi Han'ei @Altered Tundra, Ezekiel Benson [Lmpko], Pythia Nsiferum and Sania Belchardt@Gowi, Henry Machina @floodtalon, Irene Takashi @Demous, Laila Durrani @Mercurial, Avicenna Nemu @BurningDaisies, Reynolf Nestal @Inertia, Indra Chen @Indra, Theodore and Ignis Barthandelous
Before the Guild members in the Smiling Parrot could leave, there came a sudden loud pounding at the door that startled everyone. The next second, the door was kicked open and soldiers burst through, with the one at the head wearing livery denoting him as a man of some rank. He surveyed the room, his lip curled in disgust. Drunkards and lowlifes one and all. He sneered. There was brief moment of crystalline tension, during which no one moved or spoke. Then the lead soldier grunted and proclaimed, "All citizens and visitors are required to be at the ceremony in the town square. No excuses. A few of my men will escort you there. To ensure your safety, of course." His tone brooked no argument.
With that, he spun on his heel and stode out, with about half of his force following him. The rest would stay behind to wake the drunks, search the rooms, then lead the customers and the proprietor to the town square.
"At least Ye coul' pay fo' me door while yer at it." Maude muttered. She looked up and adressed the molty lot before her. "Aight, you lots. Looks like me bar's closin' early taday. Don't worry 'bout payment, last round was on te house. Be sure and tank the good soldier boys for tat. Now, ev'ry one of ye are on your own. Keep yer drunk wits about ye and don't go causin' no trouble, or there'll be hell ta pay, you 'ear me?" She said sternly, her gaze resting on Lazulin most of all.
Smiling Parrot, Upper rooms
Kage @Crimson Raven, Theodore Shimizu
Theodore watched Kage wave her hands around with a mystified look on his face. "Lass, you know I don't understand your hand waving. Either come or stay, your choice." He said, irritated, then leaped out the window. Kage made a rude gesture after him, but she followed suit, her cloak fluttered oddly as she fell. She found Theodore peaking around the corner. "Shit, soldiers." He hissed. They backed away when they heard a shout. "Hey! You two!" Another group of soldiers stomped up to them. "All citizens are to attend the ceremony! You're coming with us!" Theodore glanced at Kage, and she lifted her shoulders into a shrug. They seemed to have no choice, unless they wanted to make a scene. They ended up being herded there with the rest of the Smilling Parrot group.
En Route to Town Center
Whirlwind @Crimson Raven, Ullyses Callistrophous @Lmpkio
At Whirlwind's words she stiffened against Ulysses. "Kind words, sir." She said in her usual monotone, with a small curtsy. She said no more as she let herself be guided out the door. The journey was quiet and tense, every step they took, Elvira visably grew more and more tense. Her little feet would occasionally drag, and she slowed and shortened her footsteps. She also gripped Ulysses tighter and tigher, her little hand putting out an impressive amount of force for her size. Her knuckles had tuned bone white, her jaw clenched, and her hand became sweaty and clammy. It was obvious something was wrong with her, but with Whirlwind leading the way, he didn't notice.
Elsewhere around Town
Marianne Shimizu [Raijinslayer], Sayuri Takashi [Demous], Marth Takeshi @pkken
About that time, a harried and dirty messanger ran up to Marth and Marianna. He skidded to a stop then leaned over, with his a hands on his knees, gasping and wheezing for breath. He was young, and in good shape, but it was quite clear that he was exhausted. Awkwardly and unaware of the delicate situation, he tiredly saluted the two. "Orders...all citizens..and officers...are to attend the...ceremony. Soldiers are...to round up stragglers and escort them...there. Then take up...their posts around..town." His message delivered, he limped off, obviously off to spread the the word.
I'm still around. I'm probably going to wait for the OOC to be up before I submit my character(s), unless inspiration strikes. I have two workable ideas, but I'm still brainstorming the details.
I've been dealing with school work, so I've been a bit busy. But I will find some time to throw up a post.
<Snipped quote by Crimson Raven>
Oh, I'm not throwin away my shot
See I'm just like my country, I'm young scrappy and hungry
And I'm not throwin away my shot.
Always nice to find another Hamilton Fan. :D
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