Actually, that's the OOC
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Crimson Raven
Member
*Rolls a Nat 1*
STATUS: 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 5009 (1.53 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- 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
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
OCD, OOC, CDO
What's the difference?
Fifty-four thousand three hundred OOC posts
five-four-three.
In 21 more posts, we could have five-four-three-two-one
in 488010 more posts, we could have 5-4-3-2-1-0
My OCD is pleased
five-four-three.
In 21 more posts, we could have five-four-three-two-one
in 488010 more posts, we could have 5-4-3-2-1-0
My OCD is pleased
Flavia Astra
@Lord Sawsaw2, @Rune_Alchemist, @alexfangtalon
Flavia considered the problem. She stated mumbling out loud, seemingly without realizing it. "Seven to eight minimum is a lot of people. We'll be outnumbered two-to-one and they could have more. Splitting up is out of the question, we'll work much better as a team. Maybe sneak inside and attempt to ambush them one by one...? Or at least take them in small groups. We don't know how strong they are so its a gamble. If this is supposed to be a seek and destroy we could really use more muscle w-we aren't...v-very...uh." Flavia stuttered to a stop and blushed bright red as she realized she had been saying all this aloud. "N-not that I'm doubting your power or anything! She said frantically, waving her hands around. The white-hair mage shrank down on herself as she mumbled her last bit even quieter. "J-just that...well...I'm not sure we um..." She trailed off, even more embarrassed. "I'm sorry!" She exclaimed.
The nervous girl felt like none of them were direct combat specialists and so a offensive assault would be ill-advised at best, and suicidal at worst. She'd feel a lot more comfortable if they had fighters like Glory or Ladon, someone who could take point and duke it out in a melee, coming along with them.
Flavia Astra
@Lord Sawsaw2, @Rune_Alchemist, @alexfangtalon
Flavia blinked at the offered patches. The looked normal enough, but seeming about they way they were offered struck her as...illicit-seeming. She looked back at Annalyse and then quickly looked away. "Er...no thanks. Sorry."
Just then, Ceri returned in nimble fashion, hopping down from a window. Flavia beckoned her over. "What did you find?" She asked quietly.
Ferrin Astra
Tenrou Team - Discretion is the better part of not dying horribly.
Direct interaction: @MarshiestMallow @LightningMaiden
The aether wizard rolled his eyes at Time Lord's boasting and more then that, his nickname choice. Again with the 'Old Man'. "That is nice and all, Timmy, but someone assisting you would decrease the chance of you tripping over your own clumsy feet and knocking yourself senseless, which, while it would bring me great personal entertainment, would also set the dragon lose. So--"
Ferrin saw the dragon break free. He heard Sasha scream. He saw it spit fire and death, and smelled the smoke on the air, but he was slow--Too Slow!--to stop it! He desperately prepared a defensive spell, knowing it would be futile. Too Late!
Time shifted. And a new reality was created. Simultaneously, he felt a burning sensation in his right eye causing him to wince reflexively raise a hand to cover it. The dragonfire vanished like an illusion and the dragon was still held in check. The memory of the old time began to fade, becoming like something from a dream. Ferrin was dismayed by how fast it happened, the unexplained pain fueling his anger. Too slow! I need to be faster and more alert! If that had been real… He ground his teeth in frustration, yet shivered. Sasha’s desperate scream had chilled him to the bone. Over and over he had heard that fear; he never wanted to hear it again. The phantom pain in his eye faded slowly, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Much delayed, Shiden fell into his hand, a comforting weight, marred by the thought that he should have already had it in hand.
He whirled and pointed a Gauntlet finger at Cecilia, the exceed he had met earlier with the ice dragon slayer. "You. Winged Cat. Carry this fool." He hooked a metal thumb back at Time Lord.
He listened and nodded in acknowledgement of the guildmaster and Sasha, once to each. He raised his voice once more. "Everyone, we have a guide, follow me! And don't forget to cover our tracks." But then he hesitated, as a thought occurred to him. A simple trick…but would it fool a dragon? One way to find out, since Time Lord held it down, he had some time to craft the spell.
He took a deep breath, and with it, gathered his magic and solidified his will. To do this right, he need to keep his emotions in check. It wasn’t easy, but with experience of long practice, he pulled across him the Heart of Steel, a meditative state of mind that set aside emotions, eliminated irrelevant thought, and focused his will.
Visually, he suddenly relaxed, tension draining and his eyes becoming flat, slowing nothing. His clothing rippled slightly from a wind that wasn’t there. He lifted his metal fist and imagined what he wanted. Then, he added a drop of aether. Immediately, the wind exploded into a strong directionless gust. When the spell felt right, he made a brushing motion. “True Illusion: Blind.”
Around the frozen dragon’s eyes, a dark cloud formed. It would absorb any and all light from reaching the dragon’s sight.
Still in the same state, he curled his fist and made another motion. “True Illusion: Spoor.” There was a shimmer around the Dragon’s nose, but nothing more. The spell gave off a powerful ammonia smell, that would, hopefully, confuse its sense of smell.
Once more. Just the little bit of Aether used and he was already feeling it. But he knew that if he didn’t, these simple illusion cantrips, and that was all they were, wouldn’t fool a dragon.
“True Illusion: Deafen.” This final spell would put a meaningless noise in the dragon’s ear, to obscure, but he could not eliminate, it’s hearing.
These circumstances were unique, this isn’t something he could pull off in combat. He was both close enough and had enough time to precisely aim his spells.
He released his magic with a sigh, but he was still deeply calm. Ferrin gestured with his metal arm. “Follow me.” he said simply, before taking off in a jog that gradually sped into a sprint. Mavis was actually the one leading the way, he followed her, being one of two who could see her, and everyone else could follow him. He was careful to regulate his speed to not to leave his companions behind.
Kara
@Lmpkio@Eklispe@Rune_Alchemist@PlatinumSkink@Apollosarcher
[color9e0b0f]We are going to keep the world safe with this sorry bunch?[/color] The Dragoness thought exasperated at the dangerous antics of the two wyvern riders.
Kara clears her throat, creating a not-entirely-human-sounding grinding noise. "Now that introductions are out of the way, I see no reason to stick around. We make for the exit. I will take point at the mouth of this street," She points past the knight to where the figures of several enemy soldiers coming to attack could be seen. "My scales and speed will be more then a match for this sorry rabble." She says with pride, then her eyes narrow dangerously and her voice falls into a growl. "Keep close but stay out of my way, unless you're tired of living. For I will blaze a path through friend or foe!" She finishes with a triumphant roar, and she took a running leap and with wings outstretched, gliding right over Titania, Osmund, and Virida, to touch down on the other side of them and, without missing a step, charging down the street. From the perspective of anyone watching, it might have seemed like she had a death wish. She was a small, slim, unarmed and unarmored woman charging three big, burly, armed soldiers. Surely she was crazy!
Dragon.
There was not other creature on the face of Earth-land that was more powerful, or dangerous, then this mystical being. Fear flowed in a wave, crashing into the party. Ferrin thought quickly. Do they stand and fight, or try to make an escape?
Ferrin stepped forward and grabbed Sasha's wrist in a literal iron grip. "Stop." He commanded, all trace of laughter gone. This was a serious Ferrin. A dangerous Ferrin.
Before anyone could move far, Ferrin spoke up. Raising his voice to aggress everyone and even amplifying it slightly with magic, he repeated, "Stop. This isn't a fight we need to win. Even if we succeed, we will all be tired and maybe wounded. Or worse. Let's retreat while we have the chance, to find a better place to take a stand, if we must. Time Lord will hold it, Dragonslayers, cover our retreat. I, and anyone else with the right talent, will cover our trail, including scent." He caught Sasha's eye. "We aren't 'running off', we will move as a group." He released her and strode over to Time Lord, who was struggling to hold the dragon.
"Can you hold the spell if someone carries you as we move?" He asked without preamble.
Flavia Astra
@Lord Sawsaw2, @Rune_Alchemist, @alexfangtalon
Flavia ruminated on the Ladon incident, feeling like they had missed an important opportunity. Perhaps if Miss Adrasia had been a little less...aggressive in her approach? Having the Poison Slayer on their side would be a great asset to their team.
Then again, considering his volatile temper...
No use focusing on the past. Keep moving forward. Miss Adrasia had just asked a question. "Well...we train together often so you probably know more about what I can and can't do more then I, myself, know. But you two..." She turned her head toward Ceri and Anna. "I know a bit about your magic, Ceri. I've seen you disappear in a puff of smoke more then once." She smiled at the small girl. "But, uh, Anna was it? I know nothing about your abilities, sorry." She muttered, for some reason apologetically, all the while avoiding looking directly at the blue-haired girl.
Engrossed in conversation, Flavia didn't realize they had arrived until Illedrith pointed it out. Then, Ceri suggested to scout. "I think that's a good idea." The young girl added in encouragement.
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