Lugubrious
Member
Player on the other side
STATUS: Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself 1 mo ago
- Last Seen: 8 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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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
Sorry about this.
I don't know either. I'll fathom up a post later tonight.
A shame! And corporal was always doing such a good job.
I've always just typed out Baklava. Only seven letters.
I've always just typed out Baklava. Only seven letters.
Had Cain's face not been hidden beneath a bandanna and a cowl, his irate glare would have been easy to see. As a peace offering, he held out the shadowy dagger and released it from his grasp. Once out of contact with his body, the little weapon became whole again, and slapped harmlessly into Angus's outstretched palm. After that, Cain moved about two feet backward. He was not obliging when it came to being ordered around, but it seemed that dealing with the self-esteem of folks in the World of Light was something he'd just have to get used to.
"I'd dismiss your little friend's wantonly aggressive gesture as the natural response of a being who doesn't trust strangers. Perfectly reasonable, really." If there was one thing that made Cain happy, it was that Angus did indeed seem to be visited by the voice. That was the basis that was the foundation of his whole agenda at the moment. "I know about the voice because I heard it too, as my friend did. In fact, everyone standing near the graveyard's center heard it. We've been summoned here for a special purpose by a fairy called Lethe." He didn't devote any more time to picking out details about the man or the child. Cain had grown tired of analysis for the time being, however satisfying it was deducing the secrets of others. "I've only come to request that you join us for a while and hear her out."
"I'd dismiss your little friend's wantonly aggressive gesture as the natural response of a being who doesn't trust strangers. Perfectly reasonable, really." If there was one thing that made Cain happy, it was that Angus did indeed seem to be visited by the voice. That was the basis that was the foundation of his whole agenda at the moment. "I know about the voice because I heard it too, as my friend did. In fact, everyone standing near the graveyard's center heard it. We've been summoned here for a special purpose by a fairy called Lethe." He didn't devote any more time to picking out details about the man or the child. Cain had grown tired of analysis for the time being, however satisfying it was deducing the secrets of others. "I've only come to request that you join us for a while and hear her out."
Is that bird really going it eat it? Jess had never seen one Pokemon eat another before, but it did make sense, so she was both intrigued and horrified at the prospect. Before her question was answered, however, Miu apparently took an interest in the creature and chased it into the tall grass. It all happened so quickly; she could only shrug at the quizzical Duskull nearby, confused as it was.
Jess honestly didn't think that Phil had it in him to curse. Given his weak composition and reedy appearance, she had taken him to be the kind of boy who would admonish anyone of any age for exclaiming something as innocuous as 'crap'. She recovered from the slight surprise and started to explain to him.
"Well, Miu there," she indicated the tall grass, where the other girl's head could be seen bobbing amid the fronds, "was ambushed by that fearsome caterpillar thing. She beat it and the Bird Pokemon appeared,and I guess she wanted to catch it so she went after it." The urge to spite Miu by leaving her behind did not go unheeded, but, then again, Bailey wasn't here yet either. "Do you think we ought to wait for her? She knows where we're going; I'm sure she can catch up to us in Santalune City." Belial, silent throughout the ordeal so far, now chirped in agreement.
Jess honestly didn't think that Phil had it in him to curse. Given his weak composition and reedy appearance, she had taken him to be the kind of boy who would admonish anyone of any age for exclaiming something as innocuous as 'crap'. She recovered from the slight surprise and started to explain to him.
"Well, Miu there," she indicated the tall grass, where the other girl's head could be seen bobbing amid the fronds, "was ambushed by that fearsome caterpillar thing. She beat it and the Bird Pokemon appeared,and I guess she wanted to catch it so she went after it." The urge to spite Miu by leaving her behind did not go unheeded, but, then again, Bailey wasn't here yet either. "Do you think we ought to wait for her? She knows where we're going; I'm sure she can catch up to us in Santalune City." Belial, silent throughout the ordeal so far, now chirped in agreement.
On one hand, the aggressor had fled. On the other, Abel was now very sure that she was crazy. The only explanation for her owlish hoots was that she was kidding around, and that didn't seem to be the case. Abel shrugged, releasing a small sigh. No doubt the boomerang-wielding nutcase would find other victims to hurt and confuse. At least, for the time being, the faunus and his newfound friend were left to get on with their business in peace. Satisfied with such a resolution, Abel hoisted the Ampere onto his shoulder and span ninety degrees to walk away, following the crowd.
Twack
To his horror, Abel found that he had accidentally pegged another student with the shaft of his weapon. As he rushed to apologize, he realized that the person he had hit was a faunus sheep girl. It took only a second to identify her as such, given her wooly white hair and adorable black nubby ears. Oversized boots, weighed down with metal, covered her lower legs and feet. She yelped in a high pitch, though more startled than hurt. Before Abel could apologize, however, the girl beat him to it. “Sorry sorry sorry, didn't mean to! Accident!”
Abel was dumbfounded. He gingerly brought the Ampere down into a less prominent position, as if it would lash out of its own accord, smack the other student again, and double his embarrassment. “Why are you saying sorry? I'm the one who hit you!”
The girl giggled, hand covering the spot on her forehead, just above her milky white eyebrows, where the shaft of the Ampere had made contact. “Did you? I wasn't looking where I was going anyway. Must have run right into it. That's the problem with running.” After thoroughly confirming that there was no mark, the hand on her head was offered to Abel. “Guess we're equally at fault. I'm Mary Ovisaries. Some people call me Magenta. Those people are idiots.” It wasn't hard to figure out why; her patterned tank top and split cape were both a deep shade of pink-red. Abel noticed for the first time that she had some sort of weapon on the rear of her belt. He took her hand and shook. “Abel Fulgurate. You're not hurt?” Mary shook her head enthusiastically. Not knowing exactly what to say, Abel was anxious to change the subject before this exchange began to drift into awkward territory. “What's that you've got there?”
“This?” Mary pulled the thing from a harnass on her lower back. The implement revealed itself to be a crossblade, six curved swordlike lengths of metal joined to a central ring. Its design was stylish, white inlaid with black. “The Shepard's Compass! Made it myself at Flare. It took ages to get the alloy right, but when I was done it was as light as a feather! It can fly through the air like a frisbee, and even if it hits something it can keep spinning, sawing away. And it almost always returns to me! I don't know why it does that, really, there are no electronics in it or anything!” Clearly, this was a young woman who wasn't afraid to be sociable. Abel was getting the feeling that she loved attention.
He decided to give it to her. “Huh, very nice!”
“And your spear?” Mary's bright eyes were fixated upon his polearm.
“More of a sword-on-a-stick, really. But since that's a mouthful I call it the Ampere. Conducts electricity really well.”
The two began to move further away from the auditorium, continuing to speak. Mary did most of the talking, but Abel listened well.
Twack
To his horror, Abel found that he had accidentally pegged another student with the shaft of his weapon. As he rushed to apologize, he realized that the person he had hit was a faunus sheep girl. It took only a second to identify her as such, given her wooly white hair and adorable black nubby ears. Oversized boots, weighed down with metal, covered her lower legs and feet. She yelped in a high pitch, though more startled than hurt. Before Abel could apologize, however, the girl beat him to it. “Sorry sorry sorry, didn't mean to! Accident!”
Abel was dumbfounded. He gingerly brought the Ampere down into a less prominent position, as if it would lash out of its own accord, smack the other student again, and double his embarrassment. “Why are you saying sorry? I'm the one who hit you!”
The girl giggled, hand covering the spot on her forehead, just above her milky white eyebrows, where the shaft of the Ampere had made contact. “Did you? I wasn't looking where I was going anyway. Must have run right into it. That's the problem with running.” After thoroughly confirming that there was no mark, the hand on her head was offered to Abel. “Guess we're equally at fault. I'm Mary Ovisaries. Some people call me Magenta. Those people are idiots.” It wasn't hard to figure out why; her patterned tank top and split cape were both a deep shade of pink-red. Abel noticed for the first time that she had some sort of weapon on the rear of her belt. He took her hand and shook. “Abel Fulgurate. You're not hurt?” Mary shook her head enthusiastically. Not knowing exactly what to say, Abel was anxious to change the subject before this exchange began to drift into awkward territory. “What's that you've got there?”
“This?” Mary pulled the thing from a harnass on her lower back. The implement revealed itself to be a crossblade, six curved swordlike lengths of metal joined to a central ring. Its design was stylish, white inlaid with black. “The Shepard's Compass! Made it myself at Flare. It took ages to get the alloy right, but when I was done it was as light as a feather! It can fly through the air like a frisbee, and even if it hits something it can keep spinning, sawing away. And it almost always returns to me! I don't know why it does that, really, there are no electronics in it or anything!” Clearly, this was a young woman who wasn't afraid to be sociable. Abel was getting the feeling that she loved attention.
He decided to give it to her. “Huh, very nice!”
“And your spear?” Mary's bright eyes were fixated upon his polearm.
“More of a sword-on-a-stick, really. But since that's a mouthful I call it the Ampere. Conducts electricity really well.”
The two began to move further away from the auditorium, continuing to speak. Mary did most of the talking, but Abel listened well.
KabenSaal said
Shield, is not part of your body, nor is any armour covering your body. It has to make actual contact with your skin. And if you knock it away, it will just rebound and come at you again. It has to hit you, you can't hit it.
So if someone like Ineko is covered in armor, they'll spend the rest of their existence with a little boomerang constant following them around and bopping them in the head?
Harmlessly hitting a shield or arm or something similar still counts as hitting, so I guess that's an acceptable counter for the never-miss mechanic.
At its mistress's command, the Antlion carried Baudrii up the sheer trunk of the King of the Forest, seeking a place to deposit him where he could recuperate undisturbed. With her construct taken care of, Clotho peered out into the jungle, waiting for the arrival of her nemesis. As she did so, she stretched her wings and found that they were usable once more, having recovered from the slight burn inflicted upon them by the heroine's lightning. The Swarm Keeper rose into the air, her morale vastly improved now that the miracle of flight was once again hers. Ten of her twelve remaining Lambents rushed to join her in her flight, circling the tree in search of any sign of the hero and her diminished forces. While there were almost certainly Macula in the vicinity that could pinpoint her enemy's location, Clotho felt that any diversion from the front lines could be a potentially lethal mistake. As such, she continued to patrol her Dungeon's perimeter with her Lambents, dodging hanging vines and hives while scanning the ground below.
Just as the Swarm Keeper had anticipated, the hero soon arrived. She almost didn't spot them; the humans were moving quickly between patches of vegetation in hopes of staying in cover. Good...we'll let them continue to think that they have the element of surprise. Using her insect cries, Clotho commanded her Lambents to withhold their attack and instead do their best to seem like they were still patrolling, all the while keeping tabs on the intruder's location. With that strategy in mind, Clotho left the human marauders to keep scurrying over the murky ground beneath the King of the Forest's expansive shade and circumnavigated the tree once more. When she returned, she saw with some alarm that the humans were only a few hundred feet from the entrance to the Myrmidon Den at the foot of the tree. Did they really think that the yawning, musty hole was an entrance? That was fortunate indeed. Careful not to betray her detection of the humans' presence, she swiftly ordered he Myrmidons to prepare an ambush and then moved on.
It worked better than she could have hoped. The men and women seeking to kill her were so fixed on their own cleverness that they never suspected the cave they were entering was really a dead end. Once they had reached the end of the line and thrown a few curses around, the trap was sprung. In the darkness -particularly without the annoyance of the heroine's lantern- the Myrmidons had the advantage. Spear thrusts ended the lives of half of the remaining men within the first minute, and the heroine found herself unable to rally a defense in the foreign, hostile environment. All they could do was flee to the light, an uphill path that resulted in heavy categories. The heroine, like any good leader, fended off Clotho's creatures while the remainder of her men escaped.
Upon finally trudging out into the light, the heroine was greeted with a sorry sight. The men whose lives she had preserved only moments ago were mostly dead; in their fear and disorientation upon leaving the Den, they had been easy targets for the Lambent above. She fell to her knees, katana buried in the loam, her face twisted by hatred and grief.
Clotho alighted before her, and kicked the blade away before the heroine could draw it and engage her. “Congratulations, monster,” she spat, brushing blonde hair from her eyes, “Your ruthlessness and evil has won you this day. But you will lose the war. Your deeds today will inspire new heroes to take up arms against you. Good will triumph in the end. My only regret is that I won't be around to see it.”
The Stinger flashed out of Clotho's left wrist. It beaded venom, a vile brown brew reluctantly fashioned for her by her new alchemist. “Not true. Today I am going to let you live.”
An incredulous glare was the heroine's response. “Why waste your breath with lies? Kill me and be done with it, or set me free.”
“I'm liking a third option. You will work for me.”
“Why should I...agh!” The woman's eyes went wide as the Stinger was planted in stomach. Immediately, the corrupted life energy spread throughout her body. Her upper body remained mostly unchanged, except for some paling of the skin and growing two chitinous horns. Her lower body, however, morphed into a repulsive mess of shell and skin, twitching and transforming until it was the abdomen, legs, tail, and pincers of a huge scorpion. When the painful polymorph was complete, the heroine ceased her writhing.
Upon seeing herself, she burst out crying, her spirit broken. Clotho beamed. “A complete success! And here I was thinking that the chemist might have been playing me. I honestly thought it wouldn't work and you would die instantly as a repulsive hunk of biomass, but here you are, a real Scorrow!” Invicta raced up to her mistress's side. “Lock her up,” Clotho ordered. “And try not to get stung or kill her in the process. We've beaten our first real hero; I wouldn't want this special occasion soured.”
Just as the Swarm Keeper had anticipated, the hero soon arrived. She almost didn't spot them; the humans were moving quickly between patches of vegetation in hopes of staying in cover. Good...we'll let them continue to think that they have the element of surprise. Using her insect cries, Clotho commanded her Lambents to withhold their attack and instead do their best to seem like they were still patrolling, all the while keeping tabs on the intruder's location. With that strategy in mind, Clotho left the human marauders to keep scurrying over the murky ground beneath the King of the Forest's expansive shade and circumnavigated the tree once more. When she returned, she saw with some alarm that the humans were only a few hundred feet from the entrance to the Myrmidon Den at the foot of the tree. Did they really think that the yawning, musty hole was an entrance? That was fortunate indeed. Careful not to betray her detection of the humans' presence, she swiftly ordered he Myrmidons to prepare an ambush and then moved on.
It worked better than she could have hoped. The men and women seeking to kill her were so fixed on their own cleverness that they never suspected the cave they were entering was really a dead end. Once they had reached the end of the line and thrown a few curses around, the trap was sprung. In the darkness -particularly without the annoyance of the heroine's lantern- the Myrmidons had the advantage. Spear thrusts ended the lives of half of the remaining men within the first minute, and the heroine found herself unable to rally a defense in the foreign, hostile environment. All they could do was flee to the light, an uphill path that resulted in heavy categories. The heroine, like any good leader, fended off Clotho's creatures while the remainder of her men escaped.
Upon finally trudging out into the light, the heroine was greeted with a sorry sight. The men whose lives she had preserved only moments ago were mostly dead; in their fear and disorientation upon leaving the Den, they had been easy targets for the Lambent above. She fell to her knees, katana buried in the loam, her face twisted by hatred and grief.
Clotho alighted before her, and kicked the blade away before the heroine could draw it and engage her. “Congratulations, monster,” she spat, brushing blonde hair from her eyes, “Your ruthlessness and evil has won you this day. But you will lose the war. Your deeds today will inspire new heroes to take up arms against you. Good will triumph in the end. My only regret is that I won't be around to see it.”
The Stinger flashed out of Clotho's left wrist. It beaded venom, a vile brown brew reluctantly fashioned for her by her new alchemist. “Not true. Today I am going to let you live.”
An incredulous glare was the heroine's response. “Why waste your breath with lies? Kill me and be done with it, or set me free.”
“I'm liking a third option. You will work for me.”
“Why should I...agh!” The woman's eyes went wide as the Stinger was planted in stomach. Immediately, the corrupted life energy spread throughout her body. Her upper body remained mostly unchanged, except for some paling of the skin and growing two chitinous horns. Her lower body, however, morphed into a repulsive mess of shell and skin, twitching and transforming until it was the abdomen, legs, tail, and pincers of a huge scorpion. When the painful polymorph was complete, the heroine ceased her writhing.
Upon seeing herself, she burst out crying, her spirit broken. Clotho beamed. “A complete success! And here I was thinking that the chemist might have been playing me. I honestly thought it wouldn't work and you would die instantly as a repulsive hunk of biomass, but here you are, a real Scorrow!” Invicta raced up to her mistress's side. “Lock her up,” Clotho ordered. “And try not to get stung or kill her in the process. We've beaten our first real hero; I wouldn't want this special occasion soured.”
Do not fret; we'll be glad to wait until you're less egg-sasperated.
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