Recent Statuses

10 days ago
Current *tackleglomps u and nuzzles* X3 *notices bulge in ur pants* OwO wats dis???
1 mo ago
does anybody in this thread smoke weed
1 mo ago
The thrill of doing seventy different code edits without saving and then not knowing whether your post looks cute or like an exploded cumbox
2 mos ago
I never understood those posts about women feeling empowered from wearing red lipstisck until I went outside in a stained golden girls t-shirt, tube socks and a pokewalker
5 mos ago
As much as I like to say that I'm a chill person the second someone uses an ability that wasn't on their character sheet it takes everything in me to not have a stroke


▄██THE YAOI TANK███▅▄▃▂


I like rats, jalapeño poppers, y2k aesthetics, cleancore unironically and Love Live! as well as thrift stores and I'm going to mention y2k a second time because it truly is the best thing humanity has been through

TALK 2 ME!!!!

Most Recent Posts


A rundown piece of shit town that started off as a rest stop for a better, nicer area. It has a wonderful library. Where our brave heroes start off.

Named after Drano. A prosperous territory that lies far away from all the others. It is one of the most healthy areas for a citizen to live in, yet it shuns newcomers and residents want to never leave. Is their happiness a façade for something sinister?

Every post-apocalyptic story needs a big city so that the protagonists can have a scene where they point at it and say “Look, it’s The City” with “The City” in capital letters so you know it’s The City. And Eyescraper is the city.

During the daytime Eyescraper is typically flooded by merchants from every speck of dirt in the country. At night the city begins to shift into a more sinister version of itself. Vendors sell a variety of wares from mutation giblets to guns to every drug imaginable, including some that aren’t. There are kiosks where you can pay a fee to huff a parasect, but it’s not recommended.

Areas are typically named with disgusting imagery in mind as a constant reminder that the people living in them aren’t worthy of Hycleane’s glory, and deviating from this is seen as a sign of arrogance in a territory’s own wellbeing. There exists a small rural town with a name so foul that it is illegal to even think about it.

This territory has acquired bits and pieces of ancient southern culture and has mistakenly perceived them as the way their ancestors celebrated life. The citizens of ??? are fiercely religious and treat Hycleane as the supreme god of the universe. There is only one book in the entire town and it’s a pregnancy prevention manual that contains a step by step tutorial on how to do the cotton eye joe.

Hyclub World!
Hyclub World! was a failed attempt at constructing a sanitation themed theme park. While the park was never officially finished, members of Hyclub treat it like a heaven on earth and have made it their headquarters for any and all fun and clean activities. Not much is known about their base for obvious and dangerous reasons.

Castle of the Black Star
There exist a select group of hybrids who were born with the intelligence of regular human beings rather than the monsters who helped conceive them. They have successfully manipulated the Mudmen and have constructed a glorious castle as a meeting ground for fellow hybrids who wish to train and study magic. The castle is actually a modified department store, but if you told them how noticeable that was, your atoms would be rearranged and obliterated in alphabetical order. It’s naturally suspicious, as the average castle doesn’t have plastic palm trees or kiosks with t-shirts about marihuana in them.

iPoke wasteland
The immediate area that Landkill conceptualized itself in is an uninhabitable danger zone that makes hell look like a kindplace. The mutations in this area are the most powerful ones known to ever exist. The humans who live here are part of a cult who worship mutations and filth to an extreme degree. They restrain the monsters and forcefully breed with them to produce hybrids, combinations of beast and man. The majority of these abominations are revered as demigods despite having the intelligence of a nanab berry.

New Pork
While the majority of the region suffered devastating losses, New Pork managed to adapt relatively quickly to their new and ruined world by playing it smart. They recognized pokemon as useful rather than maliciously dangerous and used them to sustain life instead of placing harsh restrictions as other territories did. They are the founders of the Scout Reputation System and COCK.

Once a bountiful land full of resources, it has become a city-shaped landfill after conflicts between every faction ever in Kasparc have scarred it beyond repair. It is full of looters and small groups that are isolated from the rest of the country. Near Houstank is the last IKEA store alive in the world, in perfect condition and always open. Nobody questions the logic behind this and enjoys fun and comfortable furniture for the whole family.

The Third Gent Manor
A manor that houses the surviving iPoke bigwigs. Kasparc citizens share increasingly ridiculous rumors as to what goes on in there, but nobody outside of the beautiful gothic manor knows.

Mudmen Outpost
The filth-obsessed iPoke wasteland dwellers have established an outpost that lies between their home and everyone else's for trade purposes. They speak barbarically with plenty of grunts from not just their mouth. If a mudman offers you to go into their basement always say no.

Capture Ops Coalition Kingdom, or COCK for short, has its headquarters located here.

I was originally going to create a psychotic character but am currently thinking on a stable and peaceful wood aspect dragon-blooded with a paladin thing going on.
In Terra 3 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

“So you guarantee that my wife’ll love this?” Asked a man in commoner’s clothing, not sure what to make of the cold and beautiful vial held carefully in his hands. Uervia took his uncertainty as a cue to continue her persuasion tactics.

“It is true that I am a woman of refined tastes, sire, and many would consider me an inappropriate match for my job. Fortunately, my travels around the world have blessed me with the opportunity to meet many, and it is undeniably certain that such an austere and hardworking woman such as your wife would enjoy it like no other.” Uervia’s talons were tessellated and frozen in a ladylike fashion as she continued to speak. The man in front of her was like a shaky boulder that was ready to tumble in any way, and all she needed to do was blow the right words and send him rolling. She inhaled with the confidence typical in haughty merchants and continued to speak. She couldn’t lose this opportunity, not when the Great Harvest Festival and all of its boutiques sparkled around her like diamonds.

“Shawl of the Seventh Year is one of my most enjoyed oils for working women, containing a small amount of charred wood, that, when combined with the scents of plum wine and rainwater, paint the picture of feminine maturity and grace.” The crow uncocked her head as a cue that her speech was over. Her description wrapped around the man’s ears softly and quietly as he struggled to process what she just revealed to him. He was desperate for a gift and had little experience with handling higher amounts of coin, two weaknesses that Uervia intended to exploit as much as possible. She was excited to relieve him of his burden and finalize the sale, as she had other events planned. The man let out a sigh now that his head was filled with the fantasy that Uervia had suffocated the air with and handed over a small coin pouch. She lovingly accepted it and began to pack up her store not too long after.

The oils were wrapped in decorative swaths of silk with as much care as someone with talons could give, their mysterious silhouettes blanketed by the pelts of various common fauna native to Terra. All of Uervia's wares were housed in a worn and spacious bag that went against her aesthetic standards but had managed to remain as part of her wardrobe through hardy usefulness alone.

Waltzing down the crowded streets was less difficult for Uervia than the average person, as her height and regal aura tended to intimidate anybody not accustomed to her charms. It was a lie when she claimed to have traveled the world, as well as when she claimed to truly know what that man’s wife wished for. For the past several years Uervia had worked tirelessly as both a huntress and merchant of animal pelts and furs. For special events like these, however, she would don her most elegant dresses and begin selling scented oils with the sweetest birdsong she could muster. After gliding through gaggles of children and couples, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness now that she was far away from her usual trade partners. Her black eyes darted from game to game as she pondered over which one would be the most entertaining to play.

A very summarized and slightly comedic take on the setting. I know nothing about this setting so I can't vouch for its accuracy, heh
*waddles into the thread* OwO *notices ur interest check* wats dis?

Under normal circumstances Mark would have passionately interrupted the improvised PDA session in front of him in the name of proper student conduct. A notebook with a mysterious message stole his attention, however. His eyes looked towards the owner and her confused face. COULD IT BE, SHE KNOWS THAT MY THROAT IS DEFEATED RIGHT NOW!? Of course, that would explain why she opted to greet him by writing. The ruckus around him was especially loud for the chimera and his canine ears were giving off the occasional sting of pain, but the question that sat in front of him demanded all of his focus.

What are you doing.

No question mark or follow up or anything of the sort, just a neutral quartet of words that caught him staring at them and decided to stare back harder. Mark gulped nervously, wincing after his sore throat reminded him why that was a bad idea. He began to furiously write.

Mark's handwriting was neat and orderly, with every exclusively capital letter being created with such immense pressure on the paper that it was more accurate to say that he was carving the words instead of writing them. A stick figure soldier absentmindedly appeared as he brainstormed the second portion of the response. In the end, he wanted to know who this girl was and how she knew his throat was unusable. Incredibly powerful magic perhaps? He carefully returned the notebook with the face of someone furiously in thought.
In Terra 6 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Cerrad Toh's Kawaii desu ne Spellbook

to be used as a VERY loose reference

Summon: Warthog piglet

A fat and lovely warthog piglet. It can't do much other than oink and waddle around. Whenever Cerrad overworks himself he tends to accidentally summon it, making him extremely annoyed at it. It tends to follow him around as if he were his mother.

Basic summoning procedure: Place chunk of dried fruit in the center of a ball of mud and set it on the ground. Use your earth staff to mark ten* spirals around it. Can be easily summoned through other earth based methods.

*Used to be forty, now ten after having his magic buffed by big evil bad guy in Tohru

Summon: Adult Warthog

An average adult warthog around three and a half feet in height. It will easily follow orders, but can't understand complicated commands and will often follow its own instincts. Can be summoned more than once.

Basic summoning procedure: Place chunk of dried fruit in the center of a ball of mud and set it on the ground. Use your earth staff to mark forty spirals around it. For faster summoning, several balls of mud can be used to cut down on the amount of spirals required.

Summon: Elasmotherium Sibiricum

This creature was able to be summoned successfully by heavily modifying a unicorn (or another animal, depends on what happens) summon spell from another branch of magic. While its offensive capabilities are limited, it can be ridden. Riding one makes controlling several warthogs much easier. Very skittish.

Basic summoning ritual: A modified version of whatever spell the roleplay ends up tossing Cerrad's way.

Summon: Daeodon, known informally as Hellpig

An ancient ancestor of the warthog, slightly taller than the average human male. Very difficult to control. Once it is enraged, it will ignore commands in favor of madly attacking whatever provoked it.

Basic summoning ritual: Create a crude figure of a small humanoid and impale it with a branch. Dig a hole large enough to cover it up completely and toss it in, patching up the hole afterwards. Subject to change.

Just what kind of speech was that? Thought Cerrad angrily. The last part seemed to have been tacked on with sinister intentions. He didn’t pay much attention to the tone of her voice and instead felt threatened, as if he was being told that running away was the worst possible outcome and that it would end in devastating tragedy and that it would all be his fault for not accepting and—

Cerrad took a deep breath. The thought of attending a school where his powers were seen as vital and special was overpowering everything else in his mind at the moment. And besides, he coldly added, I’m surrounded by all sorts of competition; the least I can do is see what the rest of the world has to offer in magic. The rivals in question were currently asking their own questions and attempting to socialize, with the former vaguely listened to and the latter ignored completely. The raven haired adult asked something with so many magical terms in it that he sounded competent, which Cerrad interpreted as dangerous.

He raised a bony wrist to stroke his own hair, thumb and index knuckle gently sliding down whatever tendril was nearest to his shoulder. The soft yellow hair had more maintenance invested in it than most people’s entire bodies, a fact that Cerrad smugly kept to himself. The earth magician squinted and spoke to the woman. “Hmph. The way you’re phrasing it makes it sound like you’re threatening us.” His eyes relaxed and his hair stroking motions came to an abrupt halt. “But I’ll join anyways.”

Cerrad’s hand began to tug at his hair in a subconscious expression of uncertainty. He saw himself as vastly different from all the others, just like in Tembrot, and wasn’t sure whether to continue to see that as a strength. Maybe they’d trample him and he’d have to adapt to the ways of the current world to rise to their level. He imagined himself wearing a pair of blue jeans and twitched.


Mark was slumped on a cafeteria stool, panting so hard that he almost seemed like a dog. The exercises that his new friends showed him were no walk in the park, and every one of his muscles felt incinerated. He spent a few moments simmering in his sweaty puppy puddle before slowly lifting his head up. With a quick lick of his cracked lips he hung his mouth open before speaking.

"Work that body...........


His head immediately smacked against the table with a loud thud. He continued to wallow in the weariness.

"That place... is legitimately haunted."

The dog chimera unstuck his sweaty head from the sweaty table and swiveled it to stare in horror at the student's words. "GHOST....REAL?" Was all he could sputter out with his fried vocal cords, an orchestra of wheezing noises and lip flapping. It sounded like an old man attempting to imitate a kettle and having a stroke halfway through. Mark was aware that the sheep chimera was occasionally observing him and felt ashamed at not being able to coach him in his current state, like he had promised him in his elaborate mental fantasies.

He stood up and mechanically hobbled over to the cluster of students. After all, someone had to unite and protect them. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and returned to the exact same spot with a glass of water. Whatever words were going to crawl out of his mouth were then erased by the actions of a stupidly attractive moth student, who derailed the girl's conversation harder than a flaming zeppelin crashing into the previous flaming zeppelin analogies. Mark let out a wheeze of relief after hearing what the moth chimera had to say as it cleared things up. The two students obviously had a cool and secret wrestling location and the girl wanted to tell people so she could grow stronger without the moth boy knowing. He firmly shut his eyes and placed an L-shaped hand on his chin. WHAT A SNEAKY SPARRING TACTIC! MY FELLOW STUDENTS ARE INGENIOUS!

Mark sat retreated to the edge of the crowd now that his worries were gone and sat next to his good and kind friend Bawen. Bawen looked dead, even more so than usual. If Mark was clever he'd crack a joke about counting sheep, but he wasn't. The other chimera was currently imitating a corpse and was seemingly unaware of Mark's presence right beside him. The tired dog quietly sipped his water and tried to follow the conversation without succumbing to the same fate as his caring and fuzzy friend.

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