I see you need another for one of your teams. Mind if I join?
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HereComesTheSnow Member
dehydration expert
STATUS: Just ran a stale yellow. Nobody on this website is doing it like me, sticking it to the man like me, blazing a trail against tyranny like me. the only thing revolutionary about you is your rhetoric 23 days ago
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Just ran a stale yellow. Nobody on this website is doing it like me, sticking it to the man like me, blazing a trail against tyranny like me. the only thing revolutionary about you is your rhetoric
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2 mos ago
Takeru Segawa is the type of man they made myths out of. Intensely privileged to be able to say I watched him burn so bright as he did before going out with a win. I’ll miss you, hero.
3 mos ago
a frayed thread on the colorful tapestry of our existence, begging to be yanked until the whole thing unravels, a suggestive, inviting golden glow around the idea of leaking my buddy's DMs to his wife
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4 mos ago
I'm like the "conspicuously modded with multiple trojan backdoors skyrim save on your friend's screenshare stream" of white boys
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5 mos ago
Completely fucking up my field sobriety test as i clamber out of the honda fit i've wrapped around a lightpost, staggering everywhere, before finally scoring a big fat goose egg on the breathalyzer
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are you a fan of clovers
@LeamonZest89
Conall Linumbienne
"Yep, that I did. Why, recognize me?"
With a chuckle, he deftly flipped the lance up to rest atop his shoulders, held in place by his arms as they hung by the crooks of the elbows off of its shaft. They approached the cliff in short order, having not been too far away in the first place, and he curiously stood on the tips of his toes, craning his neck to peer quizzically down at the emerald depths of the forest below.
Not that it was important, but this also carried the consequence of momentarily making him the tallest person present before he returned to his heels.
"A cliff? What's the idea here? Scaling it while fighting Grimm off?" he mused.
Conall Linumbienne
"Yep, that I did. Why, recognize me?"
With a chuckle, he deftly flipped the lance up to rest atop his shoulders, held in place by his arms as they hung by the crooks of the elbows off of its shaft. They approached the cliff in short order, having not been too far away in the first place, and he curiously stood on the tips of his toes, craning his neck to peer quizzically down at the emerald depths of the forest below.
Not that it was important, but this also carried the consequence of momentarily making him the tallest person present before he returned to his heels.
"A cliff? What's the idea here? Scaling it while fighting Grimm off?" he mused.
Post coming after class today.
@LeamonZest89
Conall Linumbienne
Preparations were brief, owing to the seemingly paradoxical fact that preparations were, in truth actually quite extensive.
Years of training at Signal.
Years of honing his skills at home before.
Years spent mastering Luin Celtchair— The crimson spear was filled with the essence of fire, only one good burst of his Aura away from igniting into a furious blaze.
He brandished it, spun it, and tested its weight, inspected the tip, measured the dust capacity— everything was optimal.
Everything was ready.
The blade was honed to a razor's edge.
As was he.
He had been preparing for years— Nothing beyond confirming that everything was as it should be was left for him.
He would be no readier than this.
So now all that was left, in truth?
Looking alive and facing the music.
He exited the locker room, lance at rest against the lighter pauldron upon his shoulder.
His hair was back in the usual ponytail, but his outfit was anything but: Where before his dress was casual to the point of being unremarkable, now he was undeniably geared for combat, if not war. While his silvery pauldrons, braces, gauntlet, faulds, and greaves were light and had an extensive enough range of motion to not hamper his movements, they and the black gambeson beneath were fairly tough in their own right— the only truly cosmetic touches were the patch of white wolf's fur upon his more armored, left shoulder (where the protection went all the way down to gauntlets), and the cobalt half-shirt and chaps that occupied the space between armor and padding beneath.
A going-away ensemble from a local smith back home.
Something to wear when sending demons back to hell.
Aura was always the primary line of defense for a hunter, true, so you would be forgiven for thinking this change of clothes pointless— But failsafes hurt a lot less than they helped.
Drawing up alongside a tall girl lugging around a minigun— extremely tall, actually, sneaking an inch on even him, he rolled his neck and proceeded to make a familiar piece of light conversation.
"You sweating this at all?"
Conall Linumbienne
Preparations were brief, owing to the seemingly paradoxical fact that preparations were, in truth actually quite extensive.
Years of training at Signal.
Years of honing his skills at home before.
Years spent mastering Luin Celtchair— The crimson spear was filled with the essence of fire, only one good burst of his Aura away from igniting into a furious blaze.
He brandished it, spun it, and tested its weight, inspected the tip, measured the dust capacity— everything was optimal.
Everything was ready.
The blade was honed to a razor's edge.
As was he.
He had been preparing for years— Nothing beyond confirming that everything was as it should be was left for him.
He would be no readier than this.
So now all that was left, in truth?
Looking alive and facing the music.
He exited the locker room, lance at rest against the lighter pauldron upon his shoulder.
His hair was back in the usual ponytail, but his outfit was anything but: Where before his dress was casual to the point of being unremarkable, now he was undeniably geared for combat, if not war. While his silvery pauldrons, braces, gauntlet, faulds, and greaves were light and had an extensive enough range of motion to not hamper his movements, they and the black gambeson beneath were fairly tough in their own right— the only truly cosmetic touches were the patch of white wolf's fur upon his more armored, left shoulder (where the protection went all the way down to gauntlets), and the cobalt half-shirt and chaps that occupied the space between armor and padding beneath.
A going-away ensemble from a local smith back home.
Something to wear when sending demons back to hell.
Aura was always the primary line of defense for a hunter, true, so you would be forgiven for thinking this change of clothes pointless— But failsafes hurt a lot less than they helped.
Drawing up alongside a tall girl lugging around a minigun— extremely tall, actually, sneaking an inch on even him, he rolled his neck and proceeded to make a familiar piece of light conversation.
"You sweating this at all?"
Conall Linumbienne
Honesty time.
The blue man hadn't expected the sheer thoroughness of how prepared this Academy, in all of its daunting massiveness, was for its influx of freshmen. Credit where credit was due to the monolithic school— They definitely paid attention to the needs of the people that were set to attend.
The door of locker shut with just the right amount of authority, followed by a single click.
Case in point— He'd just managed to fairly comfortably fit a lance of over two meters in length within the locker he had been assigned. Neither as Cróeb Ruad nor Cróeb Derg was the young spearman's weapon in any way compactible, by the by; a sturdy lance that could split, in his eyes, wasn't quite as trustworthy as some would claim.
But, all of that was a moot point. He had no need of the feature— and he was accommodated thusly.
"Sure as hell did their research..."
The process of changing was quick— little more than a set of fuzzy pajama pants was what he usually wore. His undershirt would remain slung over his shoulder as insurance, be it from the potential for cold or reprimand by whomever was keeping an eye on them.
And he knew for a fact that someone definitely was. The room was already fairly dark by the time he'd made his way in, with most of the other hopefuls having already drifted off to face tomorrow with all due haste.
Fine by him. As far as professions went, Hunters always had a very high distribution of girls, after all, and the nature of the beast necessitated they'd all be in top shape...
"Co-ed sleeping quarters." he said through an amused smirk. "No way they don't have eyes on us."
Needless to say, a bunch of cute girls with cute faces sleeping soundly was very welcome eye candy, and he didn't doubt that many of them felt the same way about the male contingent among them. Hell, at 6'1 and a lean 165 pounds, he'd probably have qualified even without the finer features of his face.
Plopping down in a suitably open space in a cross-legged position, Conall busied himself with untying the wild cobalt mane that had previously been constrained to a ponytail, listening in on the hushed conversations of those awake around him as his just-past-shoulder-length hair fell free.
A fair portion of them involved their hearts being put crossways by the pressure. Sure, a couple comments on appearances, a few titters, giggles, and snickers, but the mood was definitely still centered upon tomorrow.
Ah, well.
Seeing and being seen was about as much as any one of them could have reasonably hoped for with what was coming up. He could hit on cute girls and such on his own time— to lose focus here wouldn't be wise.
Not the time or place, buddy. One last hurdle to jump through. Can't screw it up here after coming all this way.
He flopped back onto his pillow, a thoughtful frown playing across his pretty face as his red eyes bored a hole into the ceiling.
Honestly, to speak of cute girls and coming all this way, he had to wonder how Marsail was handling this. Being the only person he'd really gotten a proper chance to meet and speak to, on top of being a familiar face, she was pretty much the lone other person he could have had any real stake in, one way or another.
Credit where it was due, even if she wasn't the hyper-professional and unflappable student that the rumors of her had foretold, she didn't seem the type to distract herself with eye candy, either. That'd probably leave her in a similar position as him—
He really hadn't much else to do besides wait for sleep to come, and to think about what lied ahead of things after.
Would the head start make it easy on her? Would she focus too hard on it and psyche herself out? Would her father's advice trivialize things, or muddy it?
Truth be told, he hadn't many friends here.
He had to admit it— He wanted her to perform well, too. That brief chat they'd had before Ozpin's speech had actually calmed him down more than he'd given it credit for. Despite everything he'd said and done, he was still— just a little, of course— intimidated by all this, and yukking it up with her had smoothed the transition out for him.
It'd be a shame if one of them faltered after he'd talked them both up like that, eh?
He snorted at the thought.
"Yeah, damn well would be."
He closed his eyes.
Not a chance in hell.
Honesty time.
The blue man hadn't expected the sheer thoroughness of how prepared this Academy, in all of its daunting massiveness, was for its influx of freshmen. Credit where credit was due to the monolithic school— They definitely paid attention to the needs of the people that were set to attend.
The door of locker shut with just the right amount of authority, followed by a single click.
Case in point— He'd just managed to fairly comfortably fit a lance of over two meters in length within the locker he had been assigned. Neither as Cróeb Ruad nor Cróeb Derg was the young spearman's weapon in any way compactible, by the by; a sturdy lance that could split, in his eyes, wasn't quite as trustworthy as some would claim.
But, all of that was a moot point. He had no need of the feature— and he was accommodated thusly.
"Sure as hell did their research..."
The process of changing was quick— little more than a set of fuzzy pajama pants was what he usually wore. His undershirt would remain slung over his shoulder as insurance, be it from the potential for cold or reprimand by whomever was keeping an eye on them.
And he knew for a fact that someone definitely was. The room was already fairly dark by the time he'd made his way in, with most of the other hopefuls having already drifted off to face tomorrow with all due haste.
Fine by him. As far as professions went, Hunters always had a very high distribution of girls, after all, and the nature of the beast necessitated they'd all be in top shape...
"Co-ed sleeping quarters." he said through an amused smirk. "No way they don't have eyes on us."
Needless to say, a bunch of cute girls with cute faces sleeping soundly was very welcome eye candy, and he didn't doubt that many of them felt the same way about the male contingent among them. Hell, at 6'1 and a lean 165 pounds, he'd probably have qualified even without the finer features of his face.
Plopping down in a suitably open space in a cross-legged position, Conall busied himself with untying the wild cobalt mane that had previously been constrained to a ponytail, listening in on the hushed conversations of those awake around him as his just-past-shoulder-length hair fell free.
A fair portion of them involved their hearts being put crossways by the pressure. Sure, a couple comments on appearances, a few titters, giggles, and snickers, but the mood was definitely still centered upon tomorrow.
Ah, well.
Seeing and being seen was about as much as any one of them could have reasonably hoped for with what was coming up. He could hit on cute girls and such on his own time— to lose focus here wouldn't be wise.
Not the time or place, buddy. One last hurdle to jump through. Can't screw it up here after coming all this way.
He flopped back onto his pillow, a thoughtful frown playing across his pretty face as his red eyes bored a hole into the ceiling.
Honestly, to speak of cute girls and coming all this way, he had to wonder how Marsail was handling this. Being the only person he'd really gotten a proper chance to meet and speak to, on top of being a familiar face, she was pretty much the lone other person he could have had any real stake in, one way or another.
Credit where it was due, even if she wasn't the hyper-professional and unflappable student that the rumors of her had foretold, she didn't seem the type to distract herself with eye candy, either. That'd probably leave her in a similar position as him—
He really hadn't much else to do besides wait for sleep to come, and to think about what lied ahead of things after.
Would the head start make it easy on her? Would she focus too hard on it and psyche herself out? Would her father's advice trivialize things, or muddy it?
Truth be told, he hadn't many friends here.
He had to admit it— He wanted her to perform well, too. That brief chat they'd had before Ozpin's speech had actually calmed him down more than he'd given it credit for. Despite everything he'd said and done, he was still— just a little, of course— intimidated by all this, and yukking it up with her had smoothed the transition out for him.
It'd be a shame if one of them faltered after he'd talked them both up like that, eh?
He snorted at the thought.
"Yeah, damn well would be."
He closed his eyes.
Not a chance in hell.
@Crimmy
Conall Linumbienne
"Feh..."
In contrast with her growing joy of reminiscence, Conall was instead hit with the first wave of legitimate, open consternation at the prospect.
There really wasn't any reason distrust an Academy as revered and storied as Beacon to misplace his stuff at all, let alone in a single night, but even so—
Even so, that didn't mean he had any reason to like the idea. One could call it sentimentality, call it his houndish instincts, call it whatever they wanted wanted, but the weapon that he carried so easily and deftly was still like a fifth limb.
A fifth limb, that guaranteed safety. He was a good brawler with no shortage of grit and a respectable level of craft without it, sure—
But if Conall had Luin Celtchair in his grasp, he knew he could slay any foe he came across. Whether it was real or not.
"Not like they're giving us much choice on the matter. That's a fret..." he grumbled. "Still, though..."
After a deep breath, the tension began to loosen again. In the end, his level head had won out.
"It's not like I can't see why."
A bunch of rowdy kids who were amped up about the upcoming trials stuck in a room together with weapons was a recipe for someone getting very hurt.
They continued on, before their paths split down either side of an upcoming hallway. Gentlemen to the left, ladies to the right.
"Welp, looks like this is where we break!" he said, playfully clapping the Cirsium girl on the back with a smirk. "I'll catch you later, Marsail!"
Conall Linumbienne
"Feh..."
In contrast with her growing joy of reminiscence, Conall was instead hit with the first wave of legitimate, open consternation at the prospect.
There really wasn't any reason distrust an Academy as revered and storied as Beacon to misplace his stuff at all, let alone in a single night, but even so—
Even so, that didn't mean he had any reason to like the idea. One could call it sentimentality, call it his houndish instincts, call it whatever they wanted wanted, but the weapon that he carried so easily and deftly was still like a fifth limb.
A fifth limb, that guaranteed safety. He was a good brawler with no shortage of grit and a respectable level of craft without it, sure—
But if Conall had Luin Celtchair in his grasp, he knew he could slay any foe he came across. Whether it was real or not.
"Not like they're giving us much choice on the matter. That's a fret..." he grumbled. "Still, though..."
After a deep breath, the tension began to loosen again. In the end, his level head had won out.
"It's not like I can't see why."
A bunch of rowdy kids who were amped up about the upcoming trials stuck in a room together with weapons was a recipe for someone getting very hurt.
They continued on, before their paths split down either side of an upcoming hallway. Gentlemen to the left, ladies to the right.
"Welp, looks like this is where we break!" he said, playfully clapping the Cirsium girl on the back with a smirk. "I'll catch you later, Marsail!"
@Crimmy
Conall Linumbienne
"Ah, should be down the hall of thattaway, if I'm reading things right. Reckon we can just follow the crowd though. I know I'm just gunna head on with the rest of the guys."
Out in the field, eh?
Ozpin's sudden appearance, which he'd counted as proof of his words being right on the money with a triumphant snicker during the opening line, had thrown their beginning conversation completely to the wayside— so only now did he devote any thought to what the girl had said prior, before he could say anything at all.
Talk about being proactive— He could've sworn that they were here for doing that in due time, no?
Well, if such was the case, then he could only believe that the hands on field experience would render tomorrow's trials a cakewalk.
"Lucky for that," he said aloud. "Makes me going train and twiddle my thumbs back home look bad."
Conall Linumbienne
"Ah, should be down the hall of thattaway, if I'm reading things right. Reckon we can just follow the crowd though. I know I'm just gunna head on with the rest of the guys."
Out in the field, eh?
Ozpin's sudden appearance, which he'd counted as proof of his words being right on the money with a triumphant snicker during the opening line, had thrown their beginning conversation completely to the wayside— so only now did he devote any thought to what the girl had said prior, before he could say anything at all.
Talk about being proactive— He could've sworn that they were here for doing that in due time, no?
Well, if such was the case, then he could only believe that the hands on field experience would render tomorrow's trials a cakewalk.
"Lucky for that," he said aloud. "Makes me going train and twiddle my thumbs back home look bad."
@Crimmy
Conall Linumbienne
"Sure is. Or at the very least, we gotta keep it under wraps." he mused, leaning back. "Can't lose it on anyone. Nobody wants to be the first to crack. Bet you your bottom lien that a lot of these kids are eyein' everyone else up, yeah?"
There were, of course, some subtle tells of the restless energy beneath his relaxed exterior.
Tapping of the feet on the floor.
His continuing shifts in position.
He was keeping himself collected under the mounting pressure, sure, but you'd have to be barking mad to not feel the jitters a little, and he was no different.
"Aaaah, that's a fret." he groused genially after a time, looking back towards the glasses and jumper-clad beside him. "Nice little chats like ours are probably all over the place. So, while we're keepin' eachother calm and all: What's the craic, Cirsium?"
No reason to not get a chance to properly meet, of course. A cheeky distraction.
Learning a bit more about the mysterious highlander that had seemed so distant in the heights of Signal's academia could never hurt.
Conall Linumbienne
"Sure is. Or at the very least, we gotta keep it under wraps." he mused, leaning back. "Can't lose it on anyone. Nobody wants to be the first to crack. Bet you your bottom lien that a lot of these kids are eyein' everyone else up, yeah?"
There were, of course, some subtle tells of the restless energy beneath his relaxed exterior.
Tapping of the feet on the floor.
His continuing shifts in position.
He was keeping himself collected under the mounting pressure, sure, but you'd have to be barking mad to not feel the jitters a little, and he was no different.
"Aaaah, that's a fret." he groused genially after a time, looking back towards the glasses and jumper-clad beside him. "Nice little chats like ours are probably all over the place. So, while we're keepin' eachother calm and all: What's the craic, Cirsium?"
No reason to not get a chance to properly meet, of course. A cheeky distraction.
Learning a bit more about the mysterious highlander that had seemed so distant in the heights of Signal's academia could never hurt.
@Crimmy
Conall Linumbienne
"Heh."
So she was feeling it too. Good on the girl to admit it so readily, even if it meant acknowledging she wasn't unshakable. He hadn't known Marsail all that long or all that well, in truth— She was more an acquaintance than anything else.
But, he couldn't deny that he had a pretty good feeling about her character— especially now that her diligence and work-yourself-to-the-bone mentality was confirmed to have not turned her into some calculating superhuman. Having something beneath all that goal-mindedness was crucial in his eyes— the difference between a professional and an automaton was simply that the professional chose to rein himself in.
"So then it falls to us to be the cool-headed examples for them to turn to in the meantime," he ventured, leaning back in a more loungeful position. "Sure, it's workin' on everyone, but at least you and I have a leg up—"
His eyes played across the ampitheatre once more, taking subtle measure of those that had entered at his side.
"We know the game."
Conall Linumbienne
"Heh."
So she was feeling it too. Good on the girl to admit it so readily, even if it meant acknowledging she wasn't unshakable. He hadn't known Marsail all that long or all that well, in truth— She was more an acquaintance than anything else.
But, he couldn't deny that he had a pretty good feeling about her character— especially now that her diligence and work-yourself-to-the-bone mentality was confirmed to have not turned her into some calculating superhuman. Having something beneath all that goal-mindedness was crucial in his eyes— the difference between a professional and an automaton was simply that the professional chose to rein himself in.
"So then it falls to us to be the cool-headed examples for them to turn to in the meantime," he ventured, leaning back in a more loungeful position. "Sure, it's workin' on everyone, but at least you and I have a leg up—"
His eyes played across the ampitheatre once more, taking subtle measure of those that had entered at his side.
"We know the game."
@Crimmy
Conall Linumbienne
"Aw, sure look it." he responded amiably. Sure, he couldn't fault her logic in that driving the whole of them barking mad would serve no purpose, but at the same time, a little tension and nerves heightened the instincts— and who knew when you'd need them?
"Maybe they wanna keep us sharp and on our toes— Quare way to catch the attention, too, once you make your entrance after getting us all waiting with bated breath."
Conall Linumbienne
"Aw, sure look it." he responded amiably. Sure, he couldn't fault her logic in that driving the whole of them barking mad would serve no purpose, but at the same time, a little tension and nerves heightened the instincts— and who knew when you'd need them?
"Maybe they wanna keep us sharp and on our toes— Quare way to catch the attention, too, once you make your entrance after getting us all waiting with bated breath."
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