Avatar of Crimson Raven
  • Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 5009 (1.55 / day)
  • VMs: 2
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    1. Crimson Raven 9 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
3 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
4 yrs ago
Existence continues.
4 yrs ago
So much I want to do, so little time...
1 like
4 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


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.


~~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."


~~ 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

Speaking of

That Join status needs to be updated, GM


Flavia Astra


"Hiding away in the library again are we?"

Flavia visibly started as a voice broke her out of her concentration. Her head swung up to see a beautiful woman addressing her.

No wait. That was Lorn. Despite having been told she was actually a he, Flavia had trouble believing it.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't uh notice you." She said quickly. Her mind immediately recalled what she knew about the Trap. A rank mage, famous for his looks and beauty. Modeled on the side. Likes nature and...yeah that summed it up. He used Heart Magic, notable for being able to let the caster feel and even influence another's emotions. Magical Empathy. Flavia immediately distrusted a person who could do something like that. Her emotions were her's and her's alone. She didn't want any one tinkering with them. She resolved to watch herself and question herself to sure she wasn't being influenced in some way.

And if she was? So what? She wouldn't she couldn't do anything about it.

He seemed to accept the apology with his usual grace as he sat down and continued talking.

"You know...", he began calmly, picking up one of the spellbooks Flavia had been studying and flipping through the pages, "I don't have to use my magic to tell that you're nervous." He looked up at her and beamed, "And hungry" he chimed playfully, noticing her tummy grumble. "I understand though. It can be a little scary down there. Especially with all the loud noises they make when they get a little rowdy." He chuckled to himself. The thought of their antics downstairs always amused him so. "But...you'll get used to it. There's nothing to be afraid of. Everyone in this guild is family, whether they realize it or not." he said, winking at her in a light-hearted manner, hoping to quelm some of her wariness.


His patronizing tone and mannerisms set her nerves on edge. "I know that." She snapped, eyes blazing. Then the next moment she lowered her head and shrank inward on herself. "I-I'm sorry." She half whimpered in apology. So much for watching her emotions.

She was feeling too comfortable here, surrounded by the familiar smell and sight of books. She had forgotten herself. "Its just...they are hurting each other over nothing with no point to it. It...doesn't make sense. No one benefits, they just inflict pain." She continued. Memories of a heavy hand crossed her mind, and old, healed, bruises started to ache.

Then the moment was gone. The memories forcefully repressed. She appeared to come out of her shell a little. "Sorry. You were just trying to help." She noticed the title of the book Lorn was flipping through. "Um. That book you are holding...I, uh, need it. Sorry." She smiled a wane smile at the feminine boy as she extended a hesitant hand.

In the background, she noted shouts and voices. The air also dropped a few degrees. Ice magic. Had to be. At a guess, she'd say it was Muko's doing. Slayer magic always felt different from normal magics and she thought what she could feel carried it's taint. She really hoped they didn't bring the guildhall down on everyone. Not that it would be the first time.

@Aeolian
whistles the Kill Bill theme


Flavia Astra


Why did they have to be so noisy. This was a library after all. Flavia glared over the top of her book, across the room, at Ladon messing with poor Ceri, before ducking her head back behind the book. She wanted to leap to the defense of her friend but she could never muster the nerve to do such a thing. ...besides, she was on the short side as well. What could she accomplish? She watched evenst play out, book forgotten for the moment. She hid a grin as Ceri ran out for Illy, imagining the Mirror mage giving the trolling Devil Slayer a thrashing. He ran after her, shouting an apology.

Take that you bully. She thought in the safety of her own head.

The soap opera over for the moment, she returned to her book. Or books, really. She had a small array of them in a half circle around her, some lying open, others propped up. directly in front of her was a few sheaves of paper, covered margin to margin with small, neat rows of letter, along with a ink pot. Her pen was held carefully in one hand, held outward to avoid any potential ink drips, with a book in the other. She was cross-referencing an interesting magic formula she found with a few others in an attempt to understand it. But she couldn't find the right book. Hm...

Her gaze drifted over to where Ceri had been sitting. Upon it was the book she was reading before Ladon had teased her with another. It couldn't be...could it?

She nervously glanced around at the few people still here. Most were absorbed in what they were doing. Maaaaby just a peek? Ceri wouldn't mind, right?

She could do this. She could be brave. "Be brave, Flavia. Be brave." Maybe if she could do this, it would be a step forward? Carefully, she laid down the book she had been holding and tucked the quill into it's ink pot. With another glance around to make sure no one was watching her, she slid the chair back, winching at the creak and got to her feet. Trying to act nonchalantly and looking as fishy as an aquarium, she walked over and pretended to peruse the bookshelf next to the table. Now what? She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. They were lying shut, titles down. Curses. foiled again. ...or maybe she could lift them and take a peek? She shuffled closer. Maybe it wasn't the right book. Could be just a story book or something. Ceri read lots of those right? Maybe she should wait. If she came back and saw Flavia looking at her books...No, she couldn't let her nerve fail. She had to do this. Still facing the bookshelves, she slowly reach out a hand. Just a peek at the title. Nothing more. Slowly, she leaned over as she, slowly, lifted the book. Almost there. She could see the light glint off the title. Aaaalmost there... Crash!

"EEEP!" She squeaked, flailing in surprise. Her leaning position making her lose her balance, and her convolsing hand catching the edge of the book and flipping it open. She went crashing to the floor, and the book, flipping open, pulled itself off the table and fell on her head. Thunk

"Ow..." She groaned, reflecting suddenly on how silly she was being.

She grabbed the book with one hand and felt her sore head with the other as she got to her feet. What was that? And, more importantly, did anyone see her? She looked around. Everyone else was too busy looking in the direction the loud noise had come from to note Flavia's mishap. Whew

But what had that been? She placed the pilfered book with the others in her pile, and went wandering out to check on the noise. Unwittingly following Ceri and Ladon, her ears lead her to the main hall, where she emerged to a scene of pure carnage. Food, plates, and people were flying everywhere, chairs and tables lay in ruins and the walls and floors were pock-marketed with fresh craters. Oh. A brawl. She wasn't really surprised. Dragon Heart's members loved to rough each other up in the name of friendship. At first it had scared her, but once she learned that there were (rarely) any hard feeling behind it... no it still scared her. The timid mage shrank back in the door frame. "I think I'll go back to my books..." She muttered, turning around to go hide back in the library until it was over. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she missed breakfast. But with the state the hall was in, she didn't dare venture out in search of food.
It is finished.

At last.

I feel like Megamind.

Oh, this is a Character, all right.

But, not just any Character.

A Character with Presen-tation! *cues music* @Hitman

I'd like to close all Dragon Heart entries for now


Er… does this include WIPs? I'm still finishing my sheet. I have more time than I though I would because my day wasn't as busy as I expected.
@Hitman Just in case you missed it, I have a sheet all the way back on page 2.


So, about your sheet.

I know, I'm not GM but I'm just gonna give my quick two cents. Feel free to ignore me if you want.

First, there are numerous plot-related reasons that Dragon Slayers shouldn't really exist in fandom. At least, first and third Gen anyway. And it seems to me you know none of them, which reeeealy hurts your ability to properly do a DS. I can't explain them at all here because it's so wrapped in spoilers it's basically radioactive.

But, that aside...from the sparse details of your bio, it seems like a Dragon just came upon a two-year-old and decided to...kidnap him? Even with his dad (who probably smells the same) probably lying unconscious not that far away?

Then the dragon...taught the kidnapped kid magic...designed to slay it "as a way to protect himself from the dangers of the forest".

That's like handing a random kid a flamethrower and teaching him to use it to protect your house from burglars. Then testing him by pretending to be a burglar yourself.

And finally, but most importantly, Hitman has officially closed S class spots. Quoth:

"I'm going to close S-Rank off with this, in order to prevent insanity. If you're already in and cleared, don't worry, but if you're just reading this, sorry :p."

So I don't think you are in because you even had to ask. You'll have to tone power way down if you want to be accepted.

I really suggest going back and doing a rewrite.
I'm gonna be busy tomorrow so chances are I won't be done with my sheet until Wednesday night at the earliest. Sorry!
<Snipped quote by Crimson Raven>

YOU UNDERESTIMATE MY LACK OF POWER!

EVEN THOUGH I SAID I HAD NO HIGH GROUND TO SPEAK OF!


DON'T Try it.
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