Lugubrious
Member
Player on the other side
STATUS: Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself 1 mo ago
- Last Seen: 5 hrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Cavalier
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 8131 (1.80 / day)
- VMs: 4
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Username history
- Lugubrious 12 yrs ago
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Status
Recent Statuses
1 mo ago
Current
Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself
5 mos ago
Forever and ever, amen
9 mos ago
Calling out from Scatman's world
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like
11 mos ago
Called into action - by threats that seem harmonized
1 yr ago
Tomorrow comes
Bio
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
Most Recent Posts
No, not really.
@Baklava, If we don't put 'literacy' as one of our character's practical skills, does that make him or her illiterate?
I love it. A+
Enjoy the dog-sitting, Kan?
What's the status, Darkwolf? You still with us?
What's the status, Darkwolf? You still with us?
Just as Conquest was preparing to move, his Keeper's focus shifted to something in the sky. Even before the impostor followed suit, he sensed it as well. Dark energy, while not the First Horseman's specialty, was familiar enough to him so that his magical senses could recognize it. Moreover, he could tell that this particular singularity was somewhat familiar; though he couldn't be sure, he had a dreadful guess as to its nature.
When the runic meteor had settled, casting its malevolent red light into the sundered crypt chamber and upon the exposed Heart, Conquest watched with keen interest. Even from a hundred feet away, the sheer power of the artifact was casting a pressure upon him. This pressure became more evident when Calvertem's spectral imps reluctantly attempted to move it, ending their pitiful existence and amusing Conquest in the process. He made note of its degenerative aura and was already seeking a solution to move it when the necromancer put his Walkers to the task, solving the problem.
The voice that emanated from the artifact wasn't meant for Conquest, but he heard it all the same. Upon hearing the ethereal, vengeful voice, his suspicions were all but confirmed. He let Calvertem exchange with the being, and wasn't surprised when he was turned to for advice. The man of flame decided to release some information pertaining to the bargain-seeking entity. “You can count on it to give you its power, but you can never be sure that the power will not destroy you. Wanton destruction is its very nature. The being whose voice reaches into our minds from that stone is called the Ripper, once an all-powerful Antikeeper called the Weaver, who was unable to stop the legendary Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In retribution, its master took away its powers, and the vacuum left behind caused it to change into an all-consuming creature of wrath.” He hoped that he hadn't given up too much knowledge, but he wasn't too worried about the consequences. Caution simply wasn't part of his character.
“Fortunately destruction is in my nature as well. I say do it.”
-=-=-
It did not take long for the Swarm Keeper to locate her new construct. As instructed, Invicta had created a perimeter around the tree. The ground defenses were completely Myrmidon, with each soldier hidden behind his shield to prevent any possible sniping from the cover of the jungle. Every hour the sentries swapped out for another so that all could remain vigilant and well-rested; to prevent this being taken advantage of, Invicta had cleverly made sure that all swapping was asynchronous.
Landing in a foxhole that her construct was currently using as a sort of base, Clotho awaited a report. “No movement so far,” Invicta shrilled, contorting the keening shriek of an insect into piercing speech. Language was a talent Clotho had instilled in her alone—the average Myrmidon was only capable of clicks and growls. “You have completed a new troop, mistress?”
“Indeed I have. The Lambents are aerial troops, able to get the drop on anyone through the dense canopy and rain down caustic fluid onto their ranks. With the Lambents above and the Antlions below, we should be...?”
Clotho found herself interrupted by the arrival of a drone imp, which impudently and brainlessly began to vocalize to her. While irritating, Clotho could not blame the creature she had designed. It only took a few seconds to relay the urgent information.
“Ah, it seems your troops haven't long to wait. This drone, stationed in the Compound of Eyes, saw the approaching humans through a lucky Macula. And here I was thinking that imps were too stupid to come in useful once in a while.”
Clotho then beat her wings and rose above the ground. With a earsplitting cry, she summoned the Lambents -now numbering sixteen- from their hive and the Antlions from their colony. “Take your positions, Lambents among the trees and Antlions tunneling below the ground. A birds-eye view and a sense for tremors should allow both of your species to pinpoint their location. I will join you Lambent fliers. On my signal we will strike from above to divide their forces. Once split, you Antlions will erupt from the ground and wreck havoc among them to draw their attention. Myrmidons will emerge from your tunnels and engage. Should be quick and easy; we have nature on our side. If the hero is with them, wait to engage until the other humans are sufficiently occupied. Then attack all at once. Only fools have their mooks attack one at a time.”
A razor-toothed grin appeared on her face. She pulled her rapier from the notch on her lower back where it was stored. “Let us begin.”
Compendium Entry
Pestilence – The Scourge of Man and one of the three Apocrypha of Elysium. Primarily called Malady. Former leader of the Blighted Men and a witch doctor. Her black skin is heavily tattooed, and she is garbed in a sleeveless lavender robe accented by leather armor, putrid green lengths of cloth, and stained bandages. Holds an innate trust in the cause. A formidable aegromancer, capable of killing dozens with airborne diseases of her own creation. Wields a barbwire spear infused with her noxious powers.
When the runic meteor had settled, casting its malevolent red light into the sundered crypt chamber and upon the exposed Heart, Conquest watched with keen interest. Even from a hundred feet away, the sheer power of the artifact was casting a pressure upon him. This pressure became more evident when Calvertem's spectral imps reluctantly attempted to move it, ending their pitiful existence and amusing Conquest in the process. He made note of its degenerative aura and was already seeking a solution to move it when the necromancer put his Walkers to the task, solving the problem.
The voice that emanated from the artifact wasn't meant for Conquest, but he heard it all the same. Upon hearing the ethereal, vengeful voice, his suspicions were all but confirmed. He let Calvertem exchange with the being, and wasn't surprised when he was turned to for advice. The man of flame decided to release some information pertaining to the bargain-seeking entity. “You can count on it to give you its power, but you can never be sure that the power will not destroy you. Wanton destruction is its very nature. The being whose voice reaches into our minds from that stone is called the Ripper, once an all-powerful Antikeeper called the Weaver, who was unable to stop the legendary Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In retribution, its master took away its powers, and the vacuum left behind caused it to change into an all-consuming creature of wrath.” He hoped that he hadn't given up too much knowledge, but he wasn't too worried about the consequences. Caution simply wasn't part of his character.
“Fortunately destruction is in my nature as well. I say do it.”
-=-=-
It did not take long for the Swarm Keeper to locate her new construct. As instructed, Invicta had created a perimeter around the tree. The ground defenses were completely Myrmidon, with each soldier hidden behind his shield to prevent any possible sniping from the cover of the jungle. Every hour the sentries swapped out for another so that all could remain vigilant and well-rested; to prevent this being taken advantage of, Invicta had cleverly made sure that all swapping was asynchronous.
Landing in a foxhole that her construct was currently using as a sort of base, Clotho awaited a report. “No movement so far,” Invicta shrilled, contorting the keening shriek of an insect into piercing speech. Language was a talent Clotho had instilled in her alone—the average Myrmidon was only capable of clicks and growls. “You have completed a new troop, mistress?”
“Indeed I have. The Lambents are aerial troops, able to get the drop on anyone through the dense canopy and rain down caustic fluid onto their ranks. With the Lambents above and the Antlions below, we should be...?”
Clotho found herself interrupted by the arrival of a drone imp, which impudently and brainlessly began to vocalize to her. While irritating, Clotho could not blame the creature she had designed. It only took a few seconds to relay the urgent information.
“Ah, it seems your troops haven't long to wait. This drone, stationed in the Compound of Eyes, saw the approaching humans through a lucky Macula. And here I was thinking that imps were too stupid to come in useful once in a while.”
Clotho then beat her wings and rose above the ground. With a earsplitting cry, she summoned the Lambents -now numbering sixteen- from their hive and the Antlions from their colony. “Take your positions, Lambents among the trees and Antlions tunneling below the ground. A birds-eye view and a sense for tremors should allow both of your species to pinpoint their location. I will join you Lambent fliers. On my signal we will strike from above to divide their forces. Once split, you Antlions will erupt from the ground and wreck havoc among them to draw their attention. Myrmidons will emerge from your tunnels and engage. Should be quick and easy; we have nature on our side. If the hero is with them, wait to engage until the other humans are sufficiently occupied. Then attack all at once. Only fools have their mooks attack one at a time.”
A razor-toothed grin appeared on her face. She pulled her rapier from the notch on her lower back where it was stored. “Let us begin.”
Compendium Entry
Pestilence – The Scourge of Man and one of the three Apocrypha of Elysium. Primarily called Malady. Former leader of the Blighted Men and a witch doctor. Her black skin is heavily tattooed, and she is garbed in a sleeveless lavender robe accented by leather armor, putrid green lengths of cloth, and stained bandages. Holds an innate trust in the cause. A formidable aegromancer, capable of killing dozens with airborne diseases of her own creation. Wields a barbwire spear infused with her noxious powers.
I guess Bak got a little more than bargained for. We lost three people, and we've gained at least that many more by now. That doesn't mean I'm not glad to have you aboard, though!
@Reap, just wait until she engages in combat.
@Baklava, you got it boss.
@Baklava, you got it boss.
Unlike her partner, Frore was contributing nothing to the general search. Unable to really hold in mind the descriptions of those she was meant to be seeking, she paced around Kakariko taking in the sights, sounds, and smells now that she could better appreciate them. From booth to booth she drifted, looking at toys, weapons, crafts, and more with wide eyes. She was staring at a gaudy ranch booth whose bright colors had caught her attention when a mouth-watering smell drifted in from a nearby bakery stall. It her distraction she didn't notice a masked man approaching the Lon Lon Ranch stall, clutching his head in pain. Drawn by the unfamiliar and overpowering aroma, Frore made her way down the street to the shop in question. The vendor on hand, a potbellied black man whose round face was dominated by a huge, bristling silver mustache, smiled widely. “Welcome to Baroli Baked Goods! What can I interest you in? We've a wide variety of biscuits, cakes, and muffins...?”
He seemed somewhat taken aback by her lack of responsiveness. Usually at this point customers were opening their wallets or preparing to haggle. Frore, meanwhile, simply looked blankly at him. “Miss? Anything you hungry for?” At that, the pale woman reached for a small loaf that, while it had clearly been sitting around for a little while, remained aromatic and appetizing. Seriously beginning to question this lady's intelligence, the vendor held up a placating palm. “Now now, miss. You've gotta pay first. Have any money?” He dexterously plucked a green rupee from his register to show her. It glinted cheerily in the late morning sun, and Frore finally seemed to understand. She retracted the hand and fumbled around at her waist for a wallet. Baroli tried to ignore her exposed midriff, instead focusing on giving her encouraging nods when she looked up to see if he was getting upset. While not irritated, he was growing somewhat impatient, and finally decided in his good nature that this was a special case.
“Tell ya what, miss. In the spirit of the Hero of Time, who never hesitated to help out strangers, let me give it to ya for free. Go on, take it!” Slowly and deliberately, Frore placed a hand on the loaf of bread, incredulous to believe that someone would actually just give her something. As the picked up the food and inhaled its comforting smell, she attempted to return to him a smile: the corners of her mouth twitched upward slightly. Despite her failure, Baroli recognized the gesture, flashed her a warm smile in return, and gently waved her away so that the next customers -no doubt pleased by his generosity and charity- could have a go.
A few yards away from Baroli's Baked Goods stood the centerpiece of the plaza: a stony well. Seeing no better place to sit for a moment and try eating something for the first time. A few feet away from it, she was almost run into by a red-haired girl, who looked both out of breath and extremely agitated. Thinking nothing of it, Frore sat down with her back to the wall, tore out a chunk of the loaf of bread, and gingerly placed it in her mouth.
Instantly the sensation of taste enthralled her, and she realized that she was starving. With very unladylike voracity, she wolfed down the rest of the small loaf, barely even leaving any crumbs to scatter onto the ground.
He seemed somewhat taken aback by her lack of responsiveness. Usually at this point customers were opening their wallets or preparing to haggle. Frore, meanwhile, simply looked blankly at him. “Miss? Anything you hungry for?” At that, the pale woman reached for a small loaf that, while it had clearly been sitting around for a little while, remained aromatic and appetizing. Seriously beginning to question this lady's intelligence, the vendor held up a placating palm. “Now now, miss. You've gotta pay first. Have any money?” He dexterously plucked a green rupee from his register to show her. It glinted cheerily in the late morning sun, and Frore finally seemed to understand. She retracted the hand and fumbled around at her waist for a wallet. Baroli tried to ignore her exposed midriff, instead focusing on giving her encouraging nods when she looked up to see if he was getting upset. While not irritated, he was growing somewhat impatient, and finally decided in his good nature that this was a special case.
“Tell ya what, miss. In the spirit of the Hero of Time, who never hesitated to help out strangers, let me give it to ya for free. Go on, take it!” Slowly and deliberately, Frore placed a hand on the loaf of bread, incredulous to believe that someone would actually just give her something. As the picked up the food and inhaled its comforting smell, she attempted to return to him a smile: the corners of her mouth twitched upward slightly. Despite her failure, Baroli recognized the gesture, flashed her a warm smile in return, and gently waved her away so that the next customers -no doubt pleased by his generosity and charity- could have a go.
A few yards away from Baroli's Baked Goods stood the centerpiece of the plaza: a stony well. Seeing no better place to sit for a moment and try eating something for the first time. A few feet away from it, she was almost run into by a red-haired girl, who looked both out of breath and extremely agitated. Thinking nothing of it, Frore sat down with her back to the wall, tore out a chunk of the loaf of bread, and gingerly placed it in her mouth.
Instantly the sensation of taste enthralled her, and she realized that she was starving. With very unladylike voracity, she wolfed down the rest of the small loaf, barely even leaving any crumbs to scatter onto the ground.
I think we're pretty much all waiting for you.
Very well.
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