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26 days ago
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.

Most Recent Posts

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

I asked mainly because a ton of Slough's creatures will be straight-up moved from the Deepwood to the Shining Woods


A bunch of them are adapted for life in the Deepwood. You'll have to make some modifications. Or better yet, have Slough come by and fill it with life after she's not comatose. Until then, go ahead and move to your heart's content.
I'm fine with forests.
Suddenly wondering if I should find it ironic that people make my eyes bleed when reading the dialogue against the site's backdrop in attempts to make their posts look better.


Yeah, that shade of blue is pretty atrocious, @Sho Minazuki. I'd recommend switching out for a lighter color.


Ivor nodded, though his nigh-unnerving cheeriness did not waver. “Cafeteria. Yessir!” Giving a slight inclination of his head as thanks, he turned to go, only to be slapped with a couple of parting questions. Unperturbed, he span around, and after a moment of contemplation replied, “Mhm. I do believe that Miss Moss made it to her room in time. She was the one who bolted upstairs yelling about the Grimm. Should be dead ahead there. Ooh, probably shouldn't have said 'dead', huh?” He pointed gingerly to the room in question before turning his attention to the one next to it, whose door was ajar. “Oh dear. Millade's door is open,” he murmured through closed teeth. A worried smile trickled across his face. “I don't remember who else I saw, but there were others. As for the Grimm, I saw wolves, rats, flying things, and these awful little monkeys. I bet that rumbling I felt a couple of hours ago wasn't you all, though. Good luck!” With that, Ivor retired speedily.

The room marked as belonging to a 'Daisy Moss' did prove to be locked. If Benjamin did not feel like breaking the lock again, knocking could do the trick. Less certain, however, was the barely-open door of the room belonging to a 'Mar Millade'. A sickly sweet, rather nauseating smell wafted through the crack, though a breezy sensation and the whistle of wind against sharp edges hinted at the presence of a broken window.

-meanwhile-


Again, Goodwitch replied immediately. “It would take too long to request a medical detail. Your best bet would be to find a way of transporting her in the least traumatic way possible and getting her outside. From up here, I can see a sort of ambulance in the vehicle depot. It might have supplies to lessen her pain somewhat, or at least a stretcher to transport her. You three continue to try and find the other survivors; from my intel on the distillery, the control room should be just beyond the storage room in which you found Priscilla. I will request the pilot to drop me off at the depot, and I will get what I can from the ambulance.”

The teacher's voice faded away, but the choice remained. At this point, the contents of the suspicious drum were all but assured to be human in nature, and the saferoom with its seven survivors lay within a stone's throw. However, the heartbreaking suffering of Priscilla would not subside without help.
Forgive my (slightly obnoxious) curiosity, but one thing I've never been able to grasp, is why a lot of people use colour for the dialogue in their posts? It doesn't serve much of a purpose so... If anyone could explain to me the idea behind it? It's only a matter of curiosity, btw, not a critique!


Just to be visually appealing.
A guttural cry wrenched its way free from Clotho as she felt Mar's intrusion. The impact sent her tumbling from the treebranch, and the ensuing pain and sheer disturbance of that sensation prevented her instincts from kicking in to open her wings. On the ground she writhed, appropriately like one possessed, as the murky corruption of Mar surged through her systems. It repulsed her immensely, both during and after the process. At last, however, the invasion ceased. Shaking with rage rather than shock, Clotho got to her feet. It did not take a genius to figure out that some kind of parasite afflicted her, though she did embody a certain kind of genius.

”What is the meaning of this disgusting attack? Are you trying to control me? I would rather dash myself to pieces on a rock, or order my own soldiers to rip me to shreds, than become the puppet of some repulsive ooze. Whatever the hell you are, you're not part of the orc forces, which means you're under the command of the Master. I am the epitome of loyalty and service to the Master, so I highly doubt that this pervasive intrusion is sanctioned. I imagine that he could eradicate you in seconds. Perhaps you are the captive here, not me. Regardless, if you aim to control me, you're doing an especially poor job. Struggling with my anatomy, perhaps? It's not your everyday fare.”

With every passing second, Mar struck her as less threatening and more pathetic. What could the gelatinous weasel hope to accomplish by messing with one of the Master's chief lieutenants? Putting this matter aside, she could not afford to banter with whatever despicable slime had infested her. The Horde had begun to move, and with it Clotho moved as well. Her insect army made good time, and before to long she and her troops arrived at the rendezvous point where the demons of the Master waited. She watched, still heartily displeased by the inky pestilence but more contemptuous than fearful, as the Master brokered an agreement with the great dragon. If anything could penetrate her acerbic attitude and earn her praise, it would be Khilgarrath. Never had the swarm queen seen a dragon, and it truly risked thrilling her to see a legend come to life.
Frenzy Plant


More than thirty souls watched, eyes wide open and breath bated, as the battle began. No soldier could avert his or her eyes at the prospect of Frenzy Plant fighting Phoenix Wing once again. Though Damian was as famous as he now was infamous to the warrior guild, the swordsmages Joshua Tamashii and Nolan Waltz came not far behind. Nolan, especially, commanded a fearsome reputation. Yesterday's event pitted him against Indigo Afina herself, and though the circumstance of the battle did not allow either one to defeat the other, their skirmish ended with Nolan's advantage. To Phoenix Wing, it would be obvious that the soldiers of Frenzy Plant thought Nolan to be just as ruthless a fighter as Damian, albeit honorable enough to, paradoxically, not attempt to disguise his cruelty with a veneer of honor.

Zander took the field with an array of weapons and a smorgasbord of fighting experience, while the monstrous Dullahan Xyster hid a huge and deadly bag of tricks. True to their reputations, Phoenix Wing's swordsmages put up a challenge, but they lacked something their enemies had in spades: camaraderie. The moment is became clear that Nolan and Joshua would not work together was the moment that most Frenzy Plant soldiers knew that victory would be theirs. Only a few of them dared to utter their assurances of triumph, however; most merely waited, and observed.

Indigo Afina - Frenzy Plant Stands

@lunarlors34


A little laugh issued from Indigo following Ashlyn's request. The sorceress rested her head in her hand and that arm in the crook of her other arm's elbow, regarding the young lady before her pensively. While nothing physical in her eyes have the slightest indication of anything unusual -they were not even a very bright shade of blue- they pored over Ashlyn as if she were a fascinating tome. Few people not hardened by some trauma or another could stand beneath her analytic stare and not feel the pricks of discomfort, for even without an ounce of magic those lightly glinting eyes seemed capable of revealing one's innermost secrets.

After a short while, she did break, but only to turn her attention to the events currently unfolding in the arena. For years Indigo called Zander her comrade, and fought alongside him on numerous occasions, yet she never grew bored of watching him fight. Among swordsmen, the wary, worldly warrior reigned as a champion. If Indigo presided over a library of books, Zander owned a library of technique. Only his soldier's honor, particularly his concern and desire to work with allies, prevented his vast skill from overwhelming the battlefield. As she watched, Indigo answered Ashlyn. ”Combat is what we are known for. If you want to fight, you will receive ample opportunity. I can see a young, fiery intensity in you, but I do not think you are a blind aggressor, either. Tell me: could you turn the other cheek to someone who threw a rock at you? Could you watch a friend die but stand as still as a statue? Would you submit yourself, body and mind, to the authority of a general?”

When she turned to look at Ashlyn, her face held intensity as well. No longer did she look like the gorgeous librarian; she called to mind a lady of war. ”Any two-bit thug can fight. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to do unimaginable violence but to be still. There will be sparring, for certain. If you aren't beaten immediately, we will find a way to beat you, then beat you down until you can overcome. Frenzy Plant is not a fight club. It is an army. We hold ourselves to a higher standard of conduct than ordinary wizard guilds, and that is why we are the most powerful. Is this the kind of life you want, miss?”

Nero the Genie – Colosseum Stands
@liferusher@oblivion666@joshua tamashii


Having retreat from the confrontation with Elizabeth the Insane, and avoided her following him, Nero made his way at a chipper pace to the spot where he left Ayame and Eve. Sitting to his smallest companion's left, he reclined to the best of his ability. While all eyes lay on the current contestants, the Genie stared at the sky, specifically a few birds circling overhead. His best guess estimated them to be grackles, a very common species of dark olive-colored birds totally endemic to crowded cities. Despite the overpowering humanity of their habitats, however, the birds remained aloof and free, soaring above the smothering crowds and frenetic rush of traffic and only descending to pinch a quick bite to eat when necessary. Truly, Nero did envy them. For the sake of his only friends he allowed himself to exist in this jam-packed arena, but he loathed being around so many people. Beneath the flawless facade smoldered a steady disdain for the inconsiderate, inhospitable, insipid masses.

Naturally, it took him very little time to grow sick of the current state of events. Inquiring to his companions, he found neither girl particularly fond of the fighting, and resolved with them to depart immediately. Smack in the middle of the current two-on-two brawl the trio vacated the stands, though Nero requested a quick detour to the infirmary.

Like a celebrity just arriving at party thrown in his honor, he sashayed into the room that contained all of the competitors in the floating-island event. Zephyr, Pyrrha, Thor, and Malice all lay abed, with Karn and Penny nowhere to be seen. While he wanted to speak with only one in particular, Nero could not pass up an opportunity. Beaming, he cried out, ”Hey, hey, hey! It's the leaf brigade! All fluttered down from the sky, one after another, into these lovely, cushy beds. You bunch put in such. A. Show. I wouldn't be surprised if the kids started throwing themselves off high places to honor your 'achievements'. I know I wanted to. Keep up the good work!” He chuckled, holding two thumbs up, before scooting on over to Malice's bedside.

He put on a face of mock seriousness as he bent over the bed. ”Hoi there. So what gives? You didn't use any flesh smithin' at all. What's the point of wishin' for power if ya don't even use it? Maybe it's because Pirate Lord gotcha fightin' for a cause ya don't believe in.”
Happy Easter, folks.
As if this ludicrous display needed to be given any further attention, I did take a screencap. Great troll, dudes.
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