Karkinos

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

T-5 to impact — the room was all noise, from pointless introduction to the Game Master’s pontificating, and she was the most insipid of all, and he didn’t even care. She came on a wind that reeked of Starbucks. A conversation rose and died — what were they talking about? Deja vu? — before she plunked herself down beside the fortuitous son that was himself and jabbered on and on. He hung onto every word she said. He couldn’t remember anything she said. But her name was Kiarra.

She was the most whimsical thing about this meeting so far to the extent he first presumed the earthquake was himself, the light was her, until the angel melted into thin air.

Soumer panicked for the briefest of seconds but it was not enough to compete with his overpowering sense of embarrassment. He thought back to those moments of listlessness, especially of the way he slurred his name. He must have been nodding dumbly, near-drooling like a dog. It was actually the best case scenario to disapparate and die. Then he wouldn’t have to actually talk to her.

...

Did Heaven sell draft or something? Soumer felt as if he were in a wind tunnel, and then he didn’t. Then it was just colors and cacophony again, underlying that the woody smell of beer, rich chocolate, warm cheese. He stared down at bony hands; then he didn’t know what to feel. Not pain, and that wasn’t panic rising again. There wasn’t even a bit of confusion, nor any immediate homesickness or dysmorphia because there wasn’t any realization yet. Maybe a bit of nausea. It had all happened instantaneously, leaving no time for Soumer to do anything but—

“Excuse me-” He pushed away from the table, stumbling through a crowd that blurred into browns and faint clinks of glass and chortling laughter.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” he mumbled, towering over simulacrums of people, pushing his ways through rows between furniture he could barely perceive, then hulking through the vague impression of an open door that he had pursued as if his life depended on it.

Right— it had all happened so fast, Soumer had no time to do anything but hinge by his exposed pelvis bone and puke rivulets of gold onto the street.

With that out of the way, he could at least acknowledge how beautiful it was outside in this middle of nowhere.

He could lose himself in the open sky. But, apathetic to his mounting emotions and the inevitable epiphany, he felt a knock against his ribcage — pretty forward — and the stranger lowered the hood of their cowl. Four eyes, now exposed, ogle back accusingly.

This is Nerdinn,
Malevolent God of Hall Monitors, Backseat Driving, and All Other Instances of Entitled Nosiness

“ᗪᗩᗰᑎᗩTIOᑎ! ᗯᕼO ᒪET YOᑌ OᑌT Oᖴ YOᑌᖇ ᕼOᒪE, TEᔕTIᑕᒪEᔕ?”
...the diety snarled.

A ring rested in his pocket protector — Soumer was tempted to ask who the lucky lady was before he realized… well, he was barely heedful and certainly, relatively insane but this situation was all too familiar, some predetermination he played a part in writing, or some existing mythos he had prior thought himself too unimportant to be applied to. In his spare moment, he stared back helplessly into the tavern, desperate for any semblance of help, guidance, or martyr for blame, so as to feel less prescribed to this; Soumer whimpered, “Craig…?” and was gone.

Nerdinn thought the whole ordeal, swift as it was, to be pathetic, thereby humorous. His plethora of pupils rolled back into his head after a dramatic bout of laughter before the god retreated back under his cloak and into the bar for something to drink.

---

^{640 words - ft. Soumer Sault, Tenant of the Ring.}

The Crystal Gems

A desert, very dead; dead in name, dead to anyone or anything. For the first time in the longest time, a wind whistled over the sand, jostled the dunes, and led a bubble on its path. Suspended at its center, a trigonal gem caught the light and glinted back, green and pink, in its persistent drift to the center of the desert.

______

The wind had died and the sun was unrepentant so she shook off the hood of her poncho, stifling a twinge of fear. Hieroglyphics crowded the monolith, giving off a faint white iridescence where they passed over panels popped, conspicuously, out of place. And she couldn’t possibly read all of them, all them that hadn’t left a first impression. The meaning of four border-sharing quadrilaterals turned onto their sharpest points — the diamond shapes — was the intergalactic symbol of imminent destruction. Forcibly engraved into every planet at the cost of everything there.

Cat’s Eye Tourmaline thought, Long live Her Clarity, and the spite hardened her resolve and her hope, enough to enter this ruined, rotting place at her own risk.

The Crystal Gems

Cat's Eye Tourmaline / Cat

LV: 1 EXP: 0 CLASS: Technician HP: 10 STR: 13 (+1) DEX: 8 (-1) CST: 9 (+0) INT: 15 (+1) WSD: 12 CHR: 16 Inventory (Limit - 14): Robonoid User Handbook (+1) Limb Enhancers Informational Books (x5) (+2) Vials of Healing Tears (x3) Anticorruption Gel (x3) Abilities: Robonoid-Assisted Techniques Limb Enhancement Prepare Techniques Robonoid User Handbook Robonoid Defense Calling Technical Support

♬ ~ chanson d'automne.. Age: 4500. Backstory As the war ebbed, built, and broke on the planet Earth, Tourmaline was one of three of her type: technician gems of broad scope to account for small numbers. Pink Diamond -- prior to the incident -- would pass assignments through her Agates, and after that, aristocrats kept them scuttling around. Tourmaline, Facet-5F7L, Cut-8XB, oversaw kindergarten maintenance and traveled across the planet programming warp pads, but internally, she considered her true job to be a historian, lorekeeper of gem kind. She served Homeworld for three thousand years and hated every moment of it. It's not easy to stay impartial with the Diamond's line of dirty laundry laid at your fingertips. Scouring the database with particularly-illicit curiosity turned up records of past alien civilizations conquested, genocided in the name of species preservation -- and their resources were devastated now anyway. It was why gems like her own were repurposed. First era Tourmalines were decorative gems like Pearls without exclusivity to the upper crust -- entertainment gems, their only responsibility to sing, dance, and dazzle for a paying audience. But Pink Diamond's seizure of the Earth colony occurred at the realization of economic disparity and a proclaimed "social advancement" which truly moved the idea of citizenship backward. In becoming technician class, Tourmalines traded their class prerogative, the only subversion of the Diamonds' intense imposed autocracy. Meanwhile, the rulers of those past interplanetary societies had been far less controlling and, frankly, incompetent -- they were utterly destroyed. Tourmaline felt no sympathy when her Diamond was shattered. She saw it as the beginning of the future, one where gems rose up to crush what remained of the Authority. She worked as a double agent, providing intel to the rebel party as the war raged on the fringes. She could only suppress so much of her disparity, especially as, based on what she saw of the conflict, it was increasingly tipping in the Crystal Gems' favor. Unfortunately, for them, that "victory" was much more complicated. On her behalf, Tourmaline was never enlightened. An Agate caught wind of her leaking and narced. She was destabalized, would have been shattered, but the Crystal Gems interfered. At that point, she had proven herself an ally. At this point, they're all she has. _________ Tourmaline is a brittle gemstone. Luckily hers is placed on the nape of her neck and out of sight. Full name is "Cat's Eye Tourmaline." Also goes by "Cat's Eye," "Cat." Because she used to be a decorative gem, her gem still has some storage capacity, but it's dedicated to her limb enhancers. Her limb enhancers at max length are equivalent to two forearms (proportional to herself) attached at the joint. The disjointed finger parts have the appearance of hooked claws. Her limb enhancers have a "combat mode" in which the claws "unsheath" into longer daggers. Holographic technology in themselves, the enhancers appear in place of where arms would normally be when active. The diamond emblem on the nape of her cloak nowadays is a yellow star.

---

"Tourmaline" gemsona by shycustis.tumblr

---

The Crystal Gems

technithot

LV: 1 EXP: 0 CLASS: Technician HEALTH: 10 STR: 12 DEX: 14 CST: 13 INT: 13 WSD: 10 CHR: 14 Inventory (Limit - 19): Robonoid User Handbook (+1) Limb Enhancers Informational Books (x5) (+2) Vials of Healing Tears (x3) Anticorruption Gel (x3) Abilities: Robonoid-Assisted Techniques Limb Enhancement Prepare Techniques Robonoid User Handbook Robonoid Defense Calling Technical Support

♬ ~ chanson d'automne.. Age: 4500. Backstory As the war ebbed, built, and broke on the planet Earth, Tourmaline was one of three of her type: technician gems of broad scope to account for small numbers. Pink Diamond -- prior to the incident -- would pass assignments through her Agates, and after that, aristocrats kept them scuttling around. Tourmaline, Facet-5F7L, Cut-8XB, oversaw kindergarten maintenance and traveled across the planet programming warp pads, but internally, she considered her true job to be a historian, lorekeeper of gem kind. She served Homeworld for three thousand years and hated every moment of it. It's not easy to stay impartial with the Diamond's line of dirty laundry laid at your fingertips. Scouring the database with particularly-illicit curiosity turned up records of past alien civilizations conquested, genocided in the name of species preservation -- and their resources were devastated now anyway. It was why gems like her own were repurposed. First era Tourmalines were decorative gems like Pearls without exclusivity to the upper crust -- entertainment gems, their only responsibility to sing, dance, and dazzle for a paying audience. But Pink Diamond's seizure of the Earth colony occurred at the realization of economic disparity and a proclaimed "social advancement" which truly moved the idea of citizenship backward. In becoming technician class, Tourmalines traded their class prerogative, the only subversion of the Diamonds' intense imposed autocracy. Meanwhile, the rulers of those past interplanetary societies had been far less controlling and, frankly, incompetent -- they were utterly destroyed. Tourmaline felt no sympathy when her Diamond was shattered. She saw it as the beginning of an future, one where gems rose up to crush what remained of the Authority. She worked as a double agent, providing intel to the rebel party as the war raged on the fringes. She could only suppress so much of her disparity, especially as, based on what she saw of the conflict, it was increasingly tipping in the Crystal Gems' favor. Unfortunately, for them, that "victory" was much more complicated. On her behalf, Tourmaline was never enlightened. An Agate caught wind of her leaking and narced. She was destabalized, would have been shattered, but the Crystal Gems interfered. At that point, she had proven herself an ally. At this point, they're all she has. _________ Tourmaline is a brittle gemstone. Luckily hers is placed on the nape of her neck and out of sight. Full name is "Cat's Eye Tourmaline." Also goes by "Cat's Eye," "Cat." Because she used to be a decorative gem, her gem still has some storage capacity, but it's dedicated to her limb enhancers. Her limb enhancers at max length are equivalent to two forearms (proportional to herself) attached at the joint. The disjointed finger parts have the appearance of hooked claws. Her limb enhancers have a "combat mode" in which the claws "unsheath" into longer daggers. Holographic technology in themselves, the enhancers appear in place of where arms would normally be when active. The diamond emblem on the nape of her cloak nowadays is a golden star.

---

"Tourmaline" gemsona by shycustis.tumblr

---

If I ain't too slow on this, I wanted to try a 'tabletop'-style rp here so... here's an offering! No rush :]

Roleplay Ideas & Suggestions Sheet - For the People Who Want to Make a RP, But Can't for Whatever Dumb Reasons.

i’m working on something else rn but following the Kill/Cure fan project reminded me how kickass a Danganronpa group, kinda sandbox-y RP could be. the appeal of a group collab Dangan story is it ditches linearity for a chaotic narrative where any character could kill or die, just as long as the players have the freedom to decide.

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

So admittingly, Soumer wasn't paying any attention; he could be wrong, but he swore this had all happened before.

The smell of melted cheese was a trigger as he shot out of preoccupation. Under dim lighting, the glow of his phone screen peeked from under the edge of the table like a searchlight, dancing off the chandelier. The little reflections would turn from white to green, the texts rolling in, the occasional meme, and Soumer's inevitable "lol" -- then to yellow as he swapped tabs, took a picture of the floor, tapped out an innocuous comment, hit 'Send,' kept his streak. He could do it subconsciously, which gave him a window to look surprised, though, with the heaviness of his brow, he may have looked more irritated than anything.

Soumer had never eaten a "grilled cheese" in his life -- if this was his first time at the meeting. If it wasn't, the only time he would have tried one or recognized one was here. The only time he had sat at the head of this table, right of this "Game Master," within this basement.

Maybe he should make his character psychic or something. If this was even portentous. To Soumer, it just felt disorienting, like living in a dream, or having something crash on you and having to recreate off of memory.

This was a convoluted way to refuse a sandwich. "Ah. N-no thanks."

In the same stammering dialect, he says to the group, "It is just me, but I am feeling a déjà vécu here."

---

^{257 words - ft. Soumer Sault in Groundhog Day.}

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

Soumer / Testicules

_{click an image to view the original artist}

True Name: Soumer Sault
[ soʊ-MERR so ] [ ♂ ]

True Age: 22

Soumer couldn't define himself by his face if he wanted to: a resting scowl, a serious expression suspended regardless of time, space, and circumstance. It doesn't speak to his character, or any character, and the presumption he has nothing to offer is reinforced by non-charisma of his clothes — the sense that everything he wears is by coincidence — and the fact that he, quite often, has nothing to offer, verbally; he's quiet. And when he does talk, it's with an accent laden thick, frankly ridiculous. "Ees juss an idea. I-I can change eet eef ees not workeeng..."

Presentation is all surface-level for Soumer who oftentimes has too much buzzing in his head to bother correcting you mispronouncing his name. He transferred to the states recently from 'Pridnestrovie,' which may or may not be a fictional world on its own, to settle that ceaseless creative spirit, and the Animation major has made himself fairly reputable at the local liberal arts college. Because, surprise, the ability to play into the background in charisma in itself. People like hearing their voices bounce off of someone else. Soumer can play parrot. He prefers pleasing everyone, which may not make him the greatest judge of character, but on the upside, it's earned him plenty of friends.

If Soumer could change one thing about himself, it would be his tendency to let people walk over him. But, truthfully, he's mostly motivated by his core values and interests, and he certainly isn't opinionated. He tends towards ambivalence when a solution isn't obvious. His motto for debate: always, always curb to the loudest voice, because they were paying the most attention.

All-in-all, Soumer's a good kid. He hasn't gotten drunk yet; he doesn't skip his classes; he adores Western media, especially high fantasy; he was the guy in high school, back home, who carted his sketchbook with him wherever he went. Besides school, he works part-time at a game store where, between stocking shelves with increasingly fantastical wares and chatting with the regulars, he became infatuated with the tabletop experience, and even with the not-so-subtle tip-offs about his reputation, Soumer hopped on Craig's homebrew project as the Game Master was spreading the word.

That evening, Soumer made only a meager contribution to the prototype, a character deemed so "OP" by the Game Master, they were allocated into an item slot, and they only got that far because of the lore Soumer had brought in as a bonus. The kid was "okay" with this, in the sense that he let it happen, then let his phone swallow his attention for the rest of the meeting. He became an extraordinary help as Craig's moral support — bobbing his head in approval with every (every) new proposition while keeping a diligent eye on his Snap. From there going forward, too, he was a little less patient with being called "Summer."

___

Character Name: King Testicules (Romanized: 'Testicles') neé His Majesty Magmillion
[ TEZ-tə-kleez ] [ ♂ ]

Age: 222.

In the olden times, when the power of the Pantheon was best pronounced, a king ruled over the Sunderworld, and his kingdom was one that rejected the glory of the gods. "Man ruleth man" rang the mantra across a gilded, subterranean society prided for its self-reliance and democracy. The king, Magmillion, was absolute ruler in name alone, voted in through council to lead it, for he had impressed the people with his feats on the surface world. He had been a soldier, then, but he perceived a wrongfulness to the conflict, and thus struck out on his own. He was a slayer of monsters, a rescuer of maidens, a peacekeeper — most importantly, a hero. More than anyone, he earned the crown.

It would not last a lifetime. Sunderworld's doctrine had doomed itself; the gods took notice, and a representative disguised as a mortal approached the head of the council to coax faith. Magmillion was firm, and failed to see the warning in the visitor's tone. What followed was scathing punishment from above, a rapture of terrible, twisted, nightmarish beings. An insurgence that came and went, and with it, the Sunderworld: demolished. Everyone slain, including the king, who died in grief, regretful.

The cliché: "Heroes never die." Because Magmillion recognized his sin was his hubris. So, in his final moments, he prayed for possible redemption, succumbing to the deities' will to be revered. For the most part, they ignored him. One less-prolific immortal, however, took notice, and deferred Magmillion's demise as His Majesty's mortal form crumbled to remnant and bone. They would allow him to live this way, in this form, and allow him to wander the world anew, once again a great hero, as long as he maintained an unwavering belief in the gods.

And that was that; the rest may have well been history, setup for a wandering warlock on a convenient crash course with a party of ne'er-do-wells. But one does not simply cast magic and wield a broadsword. The deity who reincarnated the great hero Magmillion would come to question His Majesty's relevance. Said deity, too, saw Magmillion's campaign as weak reinforcement for their newfound faith —- going around assisting those in need "in the name of the gods." Tacked on as it was, the immortal descended to test Magmillion's true intentions. And, of course, with the real Word of God having made His decision from the start, the impending trial was, in truth, a trap; the deity had all along been a minor trickster god on the fringes of the Pantheon and unrecoverable from the average person's memory. More specifically, he was the god of 'Sealing People Into Small Metal Objects for Indefinite Periods of Time.'

So the once-mighty hero found himself turned ethereal, trapped in a tiny ring, characters etched along the band serving as his only means of messaging to the outside world, only able to emerge if the ring itself was discovered an donned. At the very least, a ruby lodged to its surface made it ostentatious enough to be noticed. Adding salt to the wound, the trickster god would erase the king's previous identity, and so it was the hero Testicules who had been a king, and was, and still is, trapped inside a piece of jewelry. Word of God calls the fate befitting; it's darkly humerus.

The Great Hero Testicules went under a heavy nerf while restrained to his accessory which, for integrity, will be referred to as just The Ring for now, at the risk of ruining a joke that's already not one of Craig's greatest. Regardless, this is what Testicules can do when he's summoned:

• Valour: A boost in the physical, mental, or spiritual fortitude of The Ring's bearer, only in one of the three areas, and only one at a time. Effects last the duration they'd be expected to in a high-octane event or emergency.
• Remembrance: Summons one five-foot broadsword that the magnificent and incorporeal Testicules naturally can't wield.
• Illuminate: An offensive spell, more or less a magical grenade launch: a radiant orb that follows an arc, then explodes outwards on contact.

As for the device that makes that summoning possible, The Ring is rumored in-universe to 'choose' an individual of pure heart as its wielder. The implication is that Testicules is conscious inside of the ring, and can pilot it around — that'll have to do.

___

Contribution - ANTAGONISTS: The Forgotten Pantheon - or: the Gods of such obscure, arbitrary, and irrelevant domains as to have naturally drifted out of public consciousness in the Place Holder universe. Unfortunate, because they are as powerful as any other literal deity, popular or otherwise; their collective loss of influence has only soured their tempers. Enough ill will has accumulated to prompt insurgence in the divine realm. Hence, the Forgotten Pantheon, a partition of assorted abtruse immortals, all banded together in favor of culling public favor. The fate of the hero Testicules is but one example of their method: by any means necessary.

---

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

EES MY CHARACTER. COME WIF BAD ACCEENT AND JOKE OF MALE GENITALIA. MUCH LAUGHTER TO HAVE, AHA.

_{click an image to view the original artist}

True Name: Soumer Sault
[ soʊ-MERR so ] [ ♂ ]

True Age: 22

Soumer couldn't define himself by his face if he wanted to: a resting scowl, a serious expression suspended regardless of time, space, and circumstance. It doesn't speak to his character, or any character, and the presumption he has nothing to offer is reinforced by non-charisma of his clothes — the sense that everything he wears is by coincidence — and the fact that he, quite often, has nothing to offer, verbally; he's quiet. And when he does talk, it's with an accent laden thick, frankly ridiculous. "Ees juss an idea. I-I can change eet eef ees not workeeng..."

Presentation is all surface-level for Soumer who oftentimes has too much buzzing in his head to bother correcting you mispronouncing his name. He transferred to the states recently from 'Pridnestrovie,' which may or may not be a fictional world on its own, to settle that ceaseless creative spirit, and the Animation major has made himself fairly reputable at the local liberal arts college. Because, surprise, the ability to play into the background in charisma in itself. People like hearing their voices bounce off of someone else. Soumer can play parrot. He prefers pleasing everyone, which may not make him the greatest judge of character, but on the upside, it's earned him plenty of friends.

If Soumer could change one thing about himself, it would be his tendency to let people walk over him. But, truthfully, he's mostly motivated by his core values and interests, and he certainly isn't opinionated. He tends towards ambivalence when a solution isn't obvious. His motto for debate: always, always curb to the loudest voice, because they were paying the most attention.

All-in-all, Soumer's a good kid. He hasn't gotten drunk yet; he doesn't skip his classes; he adores Western media, especially high fantasy; he was the guy in high school, back home, who carted his sketchbook with him wherever he went. Besides school, he works part-time at a game store where, between stocking shelves with increasingly fantastical wares and chatting with the regulars, he became infatuated with the tabletop experience, and even with the not-so-subtle tip-offs about his reputation, Soumer hopped on Craig's homebrew project as the Game Master was spreading the word.

That evening, Soumer made only a meager contribution to the prototype, a character deemed so "OP" by the Game Master, they were allocated into an item slot, and they only got that far because of the lore Soumer had brought in as a bonus. The kid was "okay" with this, in the sense that he let it happen, then let his phone swallow his attention for the rest of the meeting. He became an extraordinary help as Craig's moral support — bobbing his head in approval with every (every) new proposition while keeping a diligent eye on his Snap. From there going forward, too, he was a little less patient with being called "Summer."

___

Character Name: King Testicules (Romanized: 'Testicles') neé His Majesty Magmillion
[ TEZ-tə-kleez ] [ ♂ ]

Age: 222.

In the olden times, when the power of the Pantheon was best pronounced, a king ruled over the Sunderworld, and his kingdom was one that rejected the glory of the gods. "Man ruleth man" rang the mantra across a gilded, subterranean society prided for its self-reliance and democracy. The king, Magmillion, was absolute ruler in name alone, voted in through council to lead it, for he had impressed the people with his feats on the surface world. He had been a soldier, then, but he perceived a wrongfulness to the conflict, and thus struck out on his own. He was a slayer of monsters, a rescuer of maidens, a peacekeeper — most importantly, a hero. More than anyone, he earned the crown.

It would not last a lifetime. Sunderworld's doctrine had doomed itself; the gods took notice, and a representative disguised as a mortal approached the head of the council to coax faith. Magmillion was firm, and failed to see the warning in the visitor's tone. What followed was scathing punishment from above, a rapture of terrible, twisted, nightmarish beings. An insurgence that came and went, and with it, the Sunderworld: demolished. Everyone slain, including the king, who died in grief, regretful.

The cliché: "Heroes never die." Because Magmillion recognized his sin was his hubris. So, in his final moments, he prayed for possible redemption, succumbing to the deities' will to be revered. For the most part, they ignored him. One less-prolific immortal, however, took notice, and deferred Magmillion's demise as His Majesty's mortal form crumbled to remnant and bone. They would allow him to live this way, in this form, and allow him to wander the world anew, once again a great hero, as long as he maintained an unwavering belief in the gods.

And that was that; the rest may have well been history, setup for a wandering warlock on a convenient crash course with a party of ne'er-do-wells. But one does not simply cast magic and wield a broadsword. The deity who reincarnated the great hero Magmillion would come to question His Majesty's relevance. Said deity, too, saw Magmillion's campaign as weak reinforcement for their newfound faith —- going around assisting those in need "in the name of the gods." Tacked on as it was, the immortal descended to test Magmillion's true intentions. And, of course, with the real Word of God having made His decision from the start, the impending trial was, in truth, a trap; the deity had all along been a minor trickster god on the fringes of the Pantheon and unrecoverable from the average person's memory. More specifically, he was the god of 'Sealing People Into Small Metal Objects for Indefinite Periods of Time.'

So the once-mighty hero found himself turned ethereal, trapped in a tiny ring, characters etched along the band serving as his only means of messaging to the outside world, only able to emerge if the ring itself was discovered an donned. At the very least, a ruby lodged to its surface made it ostentatious enough to be noticed. Adding salt to the wound, the trickster god would erase the king's previous identity, and so it was the hero Testicules who had been a king, and was, and still is, trapped inside a piece of jewelry. Word of God calls the fate befitting; it's darkly humerus.

The Great Hero Testicules went under a heavy nerf while restrained to his accessory which, for integrity, will be referred to as just The Ring for now, at the risk of ruining a joke that's already not one of Craig's greatest. Regardless, this is what Testicules can do when he's summoned:

• Valour: A boost in the physical, mental, or spiritual fortitude of The Ring's bearer, only in one of the three areas, and only one at a time. Effects last the duration they'd be expected to in a high-octane event or emergency.
• Remembrance: Summons one five-foot broadsword that the magnificent and incorporeal Testicules naturally can't wield.
• Illuminate: An offensive spell, more or less a magical grenade launch: a radiant orb that follows an arc, then explodes outwards on contact.

As for the device that makes that summoning possible, The Ring is rumored in-universe to 'choose' an individual of pure heart as its wielder. The implication is that Testicules is conscious inside of the ring, and can pilot it around — that'll have to do.

___

Contribution - ANTAGONISTS: The Forgotten Pantheon - or: the Gods of such obscure, arbitrary, and irrelevant domains as to have naturally drifted out of public consciousness in the Place Holder universe. Unfortunate, because they are as powerful as any other literal deity, popular or otherwise; their collective loss of influence has only soured their tempers. Enough ill will has accumulated to prompt insurgence in the divine realm. Hence, the Forgotten Pantheon, a partition of assorted abtruse immortals, all banded together in favor of culling public favor. The fate of the hero Testicules is but one example of their method: by any means necessary.

---

That's done. Idk if it's just the glare of the text that's bothering me, but I feel like I could break up the paragraphs some more, 'differentiate' different parts visually?

Sorry in advance if Testicules' lore reads like shit because I did not do a full read back 🙏

Any questions, concerns from anybody, lmk

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

We In Boyz

Character Creation Opinions/Methods/Discussion.

@Dervish Honestly that campfire collab sounds like a lot of fun. And writing exercises for RPs are very under-utilized! Thank you for reminding me about those. That might actually work better than samples with more or less the same effect, lol. Like the GM still gets a sense of players' writing styles beforehand that they can consider.