Current
Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself
5 mos ago
Forever and ever, amen
8 mos ago
Calling out from Scatman's world
1
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.
@Lugubrious, weekends actually kinda suck for me. Work and D&D and homework, but I try to get on. Weekdays are kinda better, but I have classes monday and wednesday, and friday (part of the weekend but blah) is work and D&D
Also, apparently I started a war. By accident. When a dude comes with a band of warriors (orcs, so they're basically all warriors or warriors-in-training) after you kicked his ass once before and wants a grudge match, are you NOT supposed to kill the warriors or something? Because last time we saw them, it was kinda a big deal. Lotta people died.
Sorry to hear that your weekends aren't all they're cracked up to be.
In my first-ever move of my first-ever game of DnD, I critically failed a check to look for carrots and found pubic lice instead...
Hope everyone's enjoying Thanksgiving and not getting their organs excised by Black Friday!
Anyone have an eye on the next contest?
Forgive me, but I wish to conduct an experiment on general player response time / logon frequency. If you're reading this having been summoned, post OOC immediately (it doesn't matter what) to help me with my data-gathering. You may or may not have an extra message from me. Thank you!
Though for some the morning rays of sun doubtlessly shone upon them with comfortable warmth, or at least a pleasant and natural radiance, no sunbeams gladdened the heart of the figure in the field. To onlookers, the features of the person hobbling among the rows of crops, bucket in hand, could not be seen beneath her blue, hooded raincoat—aside from the fairly obvious fact of her sex. Even her face lay mostly hidden beneath long strands of red hair. Nevertheless, Belle Osburn seemed totally unbothered by the heat and apparent lack of rain. Instead, she looked thoroughly committing to scattering compost from her bucket into the soil and poking it in with a thin oak staff.
When at last she'd gone between every stretch of the field and ingrained the dirt with fertilizing nutrients, Belle made her way from the field, exchanging the filthy bucket for a new one and leaving the staff to lean against the fence. As somber as ever, she trudged down the road, avoiding the eyes of any villagers she came across. By now, the townsfolk knew Belle to be a quiet and reticent young woman, and did not trouble her with any more intrusion than genial 'good morning's. Tanjozo's main well lay smack in the center of the village, but Belle spurned the streets leading there, instead making her slow, methodical way to a closer and more convenient source of water: Cuttlefish Bathhouse.
A few moments before Belle would have reached the threshold, the Librarium disgorged its thunderclap of sound, resulting shockwave, and a miasma of multicolored smog. The impact of the blast on her ears and bones caused Belle to jump in surprise, crying out in alarm as she did, and accidentally throw her bucket a few meters away. By the time her heart's pounding descended to a more normal level, the bucket had begun to roll down a sloped street. Cursing beneath her breath, Belle abandoned her usual reserved solemnity to chase after the object, and ran with arms outstretched to it while it clunk-clunk-clunked down the road.
Only a few seconds later, the rogue bucket hit a stone in the road and flew off course, veering into a grassy little ditch where it came to an abrupt halt. Belle stooped down and retrieved it, the strain making her realize how tired she felt. To be fair, she had been up since before dawn, and the advent of the midday sun would end her work for the day on account of heat, but still she felt disappointed in herself that she couldn't weather the fatigue any better. She straightened herself up again, brushed the hair out of her eyes with her knuckles to settle beneath her hood, and sat down on the opposite side of the ditch. A stream of clean, mildly scented water flowed down the miniature half-pipe, headed from the bathhouse at the top of the slight hill to eventually empty into Blumen Pond, way downhill in the midst of a great many trees. Belle slipped off her boots and immersed her sore feet into the little stream. In a few minutes she'd head up to the bathhouse to request some clean water, but for now she contented herself with watching the colorful clouds sweep over Tanjozo with a silent, vacant face.
@Invisible Man, if you did not reply within a day, I will be forced to spurn you.
@Princeofhearts, apologies for the lack of interaction with your character. We'll get you more involved the moment enough people post for Brewing Storm for the mission to progress to stage two.
Appearance: A tall, slender girl, Backlash's dirty, waist-length red hair crowns a pale, unhealthy face adorned by cold gray eyes. She wears a woven green shirt, gray or brown trousers, and farmer's boots, while a blue, hooded raincoat shield hers from the elements. If not the raincoat and scarf, then some other elements of heavy clothing; she seldom seems to care about the warmth. She wears a black bow in the collar of her shirt. There is a slight hump to her back, though since she doesn't stoop it isn't immediately apparent.
Inventory: A well-made torch that will seldom go out once lit, and that can spread fire easily. A bag of sunflower seeds to chew on or to give to others. A wide-brimmed, rumpled brown hat to keep the sun off.
History: Belle hails from Northington, a rural, backwoods town fifty miles away from Tanjozo. Eleven years ago, Northington erupted into a violent crisis when a string of sudden, violent deaths among the young people sparked a panicked, frenzied hunt for witchcraft. Even when the killings stopped, the wild hunt raged on, becoming a tool for people to take out their anger, mistrust, and resentment on one another. This included Belle, who framed her sister as a witch using nasty vermin called Bone Worms from the expansive town cemetery. During her sister's public execution, an onslaught of Bone Worms caused a terrifying outbreak, during which Belle came to her senses and risked her life to save her sibling's before fleeing into the wilderness. In doing so, she escaped the catastrophic fire that raged through the village. Eventually, she came to Tanjozo, where she happily enlisted as a ranch hand and lived quietly.
About fifty miles away from Tanjozo lie the remains of Northington, a town lost to time and superstition. Eleven years ago it was in its heyday, and while the rest of the world reveled in the latest technological innovations and modern lifestyles the townsfolk of Northington clung doggedly to the past. They drew water from wells, sustenance from the ground, and strength from their kinship. All was not well in the town, however. The people were united by their indomitable faith, but when a young girl was murdered by her own bones in the streets one autumn evening the cry of witchcraft quickly erupted. Fear for loved ones fanned the flames, and Northington became suffused with the panic that drives ordinary people to violence. Accusations were made, and precious few of them in the name of holy righteousness.
Goodwife Osburn was one of the first accused of witchcraft, and when she refused to testify to her alleged unholy practices, she was put to death. Her firstborn daughter, Laura -and her profitable match to the handsome son of the richest man in town- was the object of envy and hatred to thirteen-year-old Belle, and when accusations started becoming more prevalent (not to mention baseless), she connived to frame her older sister as a witch. Searching about the town cemetery one moonless night, she unearthed a colony of unnatural, repulsive creatures: centipede-like vermin, whose grotesque, alabaster-white bodies bore an incredible similarity to spinal cords.. After confronting her initial misgivings about the crawling wretches, she stuffed some into a sack and planted it among Laura's things. The Osburns' neighbors awoke the next morning to horrific screeching, and when they found Belle writhing within the house, they heard her condemnation. After a brief search they discovered the 'Bone Worms', decided them to be evidence of witchcraft, and seized Laura (despite her protests) before hauling her to the town jail.
As was expected of her, Belle was at the head of the crowd that gathered to witness Laura's public execution: burning at the stake. With her insidious plan about to come to a grisly end, Belle was beside herself with a certain dark triumph. So enthralled was she in the blaze that she did not see the warning signs when the townsfolk brought the skeletal vermin to burn with her; at first, she did not notice when the centipedes squirmed out of the villagers' grasp and wormed their way beneath the skin. Only when some of the people went mad, twisted shapes emerging from their bodies, did Belle truly grasp her mistake. She ran, his pouring tears evidence of her gripping regret, but not before untying and saving her sister. Days later, in the aftermath of the disaster and the catastrophic fire that followed, it became apparent that those who survived had been forever changed.
Belle, meanwhile, fled. She ran until she dropped, slept, and then ran again. Living precariously off of what she could find, she made her way across the land and ultimately stumbled into Tanjozo, famished and exhausted. She was found and cared for by the locals, and after getting better she gladly lived as a ranch hand for the local farmers.
Point of Interest: The Charred Village, formerly known as Northington. Nestled in a deep valley almost narrow enough to be called a canyon, it lies in the middle of a large woodland. On the village's terraces, the disused fields are choked by weeds, and where there previously stood towering houses lie only burned husks shoddily rebuilt, tilting like looming shadows over the cobblestone streets. The ground is ashen and littered with fire-blackened bones; even the air, thanks to both fog and dust, can be stifling. The Charred Village is inhabited still, though its denizens rarely leave their homes and never leave the town. Though it trades with other settlements, it does so indirectly, and is not at all friendly to strangers. Its people are gaunt, dead-eyed, secretive, and aggressive to outsiders. Rumors abound about what evil acts may be going on in the hellish Charred Village, not the least disturbing of which are strange, bony growths sprouting out of some of the buildings.
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.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">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.<br><br>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.</div>
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