Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Oh video games, when did I lose time for you?
3 yrs ago
Check out my general interest check! This will be a fun RP
3 yrs ago
Feeling good about my latest interest check, hope you guys feel the same way! :D


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"Anora....Anora...Anora!" Darsby would come upon his visual memories and the secrets they held seemingly all at once. He was shocked to find that he'd likely left the poor girl alone with a violent huntress for quite some time now. He sailed back towards the goal of reforming his body; a new one would have to wait.


"Hmph!" Would be Ahllasta's first response, a pretentious sort of huff. She apparently felt she was far above whatever it is that Anora had just compared her to.

"I hunt celestial beasts. These 'Winchesters' you speak of are far below me. They struggle merely to fend off creatures which hardly threaten just one world. I have reigned in beasts that have devoured stars.-" Her chest puffed with this statement, her eyes flaring open to display how much pride she felt in her work. "-You could say I have myself quite hidden, much like that carcass in the back seat."

Ahllasta would continue to inflate her ego via grins and contemplative sneers for several moments to come. Whilst this was occurring, something else would take place around Darsby's body. His contorted limbs and broken shell would simmer for a brief moment. After the faint broiling, things would happen rather quickly.

Darsby would spring to life, twirling about in the back seat like a gymnast/contortionist who's practiced their routine in purely enclosed places. The result of his quick movements would be him bracing himself against Ahllasta's seat, a revolver's barrel pressed against its luxurious materials. Somehow, Ahllasta had already pulled out that thin thread she'd used before and laced it around Darsby behind her, it's small surface visibly compressing against his skin.

"How many more of those instant renewals do you have left Darsby? My skin can take more than a few of your bullets." Ahllasta would chuckle whilst continuing to drive the car with her one free hand.

Just after Ahllasta had spoken, a cellular ringing would fill the cabin of the car. This ringing would be coming from Anora's left pocket. Somehow, a phone had found its way into her jeans without anyone present noticing. Even Darsby and Ahllasta turned towards Anora, their sharp gazes waiting for her to answer the call. Should Anora answer it, a somewhat relaxed frequent smoker would be the image this mans understanding voice would lend.

"Hey, how's your day?" Would be his unconcerned words, likely unawares of the events presently at play. Ahllasta's skin shifted into that of a lighter shade as the voice spoke. She may have heard him and may also be displaying signs of fear for the first time yet. Darsby doesn't pay the voice mind, but he certainly would be intrigued by the black flip phone now in Anora's possession. The caller I.D. would say "Dan."
It's fun. Doing things purely verbally has it's pro's and cons. I enjoy it more to be honest, everything's in the head and nothing's tied down to boards and miniatures. The theater of the mind has always been more enjoyable to me.

There'll be some good developments for her as things progress. I'm hoping to get her introduced to this person because he'll likely try to help her control her magic. You'll understand as things come along but I'm hoping it'll be a fun experience for her.

I spell it as 'Pahn', but it's pronounced like 'Peter Pahn'. Maybe just with a bit more air in it to help elevate it's majesty lol
Ahllasta withdrew her presence immediately after Anora backed down. She may be hostile and filled with an endless rage, yet it doesn't seem to mean she's not in control of it all. She continued forward towards her vehicle, Adjusting Darsby atop her shoulder as his congealed blood seeps down her back and chest.

Ahllasta stopped as Anora spoke, straightening up as her features warp into a shape which seems entirely unexpected to those who've known her for the slightest of moments. She smiled a broad humorous smile. Laughter eventually followed her grin as if all of this were some great tide of joy to gather up into a boisterous wave before inevitably fading. Her guffaw was as the tumbling of great machinery striking against shattered pavement.

"You're quite the woman!-" Ahllasta would muster to say whilst tossing Darsby's body into the back seat. "-To speak so easily to me after all of that.-" Ahllasta moves to the front seat to take her place and rev the car to life. She'd wait for Anora to enter wherever she pleases before speaking again. "-You hardly know the way of things, I don't hold it against you. That body is hardly one one-hundredth of Darsby's actually strength. I need him to be at his peak to derive satisfaction."

The inside of the car is as black as it's polished exterior. Worn leather and luxury pace the walls and seats of this transports cabin, a small pallet of various unmarked buttons rest in the center console between sports vehicle seating. Ahllasta presses a button near the front as she spins the car's wheels into an aggressive howl against the dirt beneath them. The vehicle, along with everyone in it, becomes mildly translucent as our Mustang charges violently forward. Trees and fences and tall grass pass through the car as if it were a specter. The only thing holding steady seems to be the earth below as bumps and divets rock the cabin violently. Eventually, we find ourselves on a highway, heading in no particular direction but indeed leaving the state. "Ohio, Exit 95" licks the edge of Ahllasta's vision as the car solidifies. She rolls down her window, letting wind throw her hair about. She closes her eyes, piloting the car easily without sight. Her other senses are more than enough for this.


Darsby now understands that whatever happened to toss him into this state was recent and shockingly violent. What's holding him is whether or not he was alone... If he was, then staying here to contact his superiors for permission to obtain a stronger body would be the best course of action. He can't help but observe a name he once said since arriving at Earth, the first human name he's taken time to speak. "Anora." Was he with her? Perhaps, the strange crackling thing he'd briefly sensed while in this state had told him that she can use magic. If she can, then she likely isn't human or from Earth. The question as to how he would have only known of her recently is the kicker.


*Ring-ring-ring! Click!...* Our distant character receives another call as the portal to his destination begins tearing into existence before him.

"Yea?" He'd casually begin.
"One of mine is already on Earth. He's following up on a 'Pahn' lead." A familiar voice travels with profound vibratto from our small speaker.
"How does that involve me?" A response is given after several moments wait.
"Well, with your permissions, you'll need to be ready as an initial means of contact if Pahn's discovered while you're there." The voice is asserting yet faintly gentle in its speech.
"Yeah, I understand. I'll hang around if I end up meeting your guy. I just need a name." After an initial sigh, he came around to continuing the conversation.
"Darsby. His assignment is unique and confidential. I know I shouldn't have to worry about you, but, be gentle with him." The voice took on a parental tone for a moment.
"I understand." *Click!*

With that, a tear in space had finished forming nearby, a gateway leading to sunlight and roads embellished by grass and populated with speeding cars. After several moments of collecting the circular devices at the gates foot, he'd step through.
I understand, take all of the time you need. Moving and putting a house up for sale are always big time consumers. I hope you can reply daily but certainly don't expect it when you're that busy lol

I've primarily played in person but have recently taken to doing it online since I've been away from most of my friends/family after joining the military.

Don't worry, if anything posting here helps to distract me from being so ill. I'm here for the long run too though and I appreciate you being so patient with me as always.

I really feel bad about putting Anora with all of these super-bossy, ultra-powerful people! I'm about to change that though, thus the first part of my most recent post. I know it might have been a confusing mess but she'll be given much more space and perhaps be put in far more legitimate danger soon. Some story points are going to be explained soon ICly at the very least.
*Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Click-...* A small box-like structure is flipped open, one ball-joint allows it to split in half to expand its rectangular shape. Pale fingers hold said shape to a cold face creased by concerned features. One word shimmers atop our devices outline, "Earth."

"Yeah?" A gentle voice grates through damaged vocal cords.
"This is senior agent Hernandez of the CMA. Your number is in our records regarding-" A brass-tax, effeminate voice warbles through an alien translator into the ear of the one who holds our communications box.
"Ahllasta?" He'd say, sighing all the while. Several fingers begin to pace his temples anxiously.
"-Y-yeah..." Hernandez would say, having been thrown off by an interruption. "-You see, she's been displaying a consistent lack of respect for authority. You're listed as her *Papers shuffle*... uhm, retainer?"
"Yes, yes. I'm-... on my way." Soft-spoken sorrow paints an anguished demeanor in shades of brief hesitance.
"W-well you don't need to come here. I'm citing embassador's rights to expedite her removal from our Earth-Space jurisdiction! Under regulatory-" Hernandez is cut off once more just as her voice climbs into throngs of judicial anger.
"Senior agent Hernandez. You can't claim ambassador privileges as a tertiary power. You 'can' claim assistance from a transfer retainer. Don't worry; we aren't all like her." Our man's bristly words float with a light-hearted authority.
"Look here! I'm the supervisor to your 'Councils' little transfer program, what I say-!" *Click!* Hernandez is cut short by a closing of the communications box.

The box is eventually stored inside a pseudo-hoodies front pocket. One spidery hand withdraws a small notebook from the same pocket. Once-opened, the first page of this pamphlet displays only a giant question mark.

"Outer-lands, Earth." Hoarse words bounce against crumpled pages.

Once the words mentioned above are spoken the notebook begins to alight with various throngs of written information for several pages to come. Several moments are spent flipping through salvaged history and statistics pertaining to the local political climate. For several minutes this continues until that communications box is pulled back into open space. *Click!* "EFC" With that spoken command the cube vibrates and rings, sending some strange signal into deep space.

"This is the EFC. Central line." Metallic chords ring against an ivory ear.
"C-K-SB. Requesting full ambassador and temporary governance rights for an outer world, Earth. Secondary requests: same surrounding sol rights, a class five regulator, and, uhm...-" The man stops for a moment to rub at tightening neck-muscles with his free hand. "- Actually, make that three class six regulators, and an all-silent transport. Sage S-backing." Roughly twenty seconds are spent in silence after this request; anxious fingers continue to rub against a tense nape.
"All permissions granted. Transport and supplies to arrive at your present locale." Automated syllables persevere until finally ending with a *Click!*. The communications box shuts again.

Our man looks out across his surrounding landscape. A greenish sunset collides with a crimson sky in the distance. He sighs at the burden of monitoring an impulsive huntress such as Ahllasta. Regardless, what truly troubles this wizard residing countless light-years from Earth isn't a ferocious woman, it's what was referred to as a 'Standing Ambassador's Contract' for Earth. This contract spoke of an ancient myth even this man had heard of on his far-removed homeworld — the tale of Pahn.


Ahllasta finds herself to be suddenly plagued by an inexplicable feeling of dread. Her gut is better than she'd bargain for it to be.

"You're right, we don't have time to argue!" Her voice shoots through grating teeth, each canine sounding more like a tumbling boulder than anything a human can audibly produce. With these words, her body begins to radiate an overwhelming presence. Thoughts and ideas pour from her feral figure like an ocean being spilled out of a cup.

Gnashing teeth, searing steam, roaring bonfires in the distance, dark shadows looming in every direction; all of these things cascade into Anora's psyche without resistance as Ahllasta begins to look even more intimidating as if she'd somehow gained twelve feet in size. Though she hasn't actually increased in height, it wouldn't stop Anora from possibly perceiving her feet to be big enough to squish her completely.

"Want to bet your exhausted magic supply on a fight with me?!" Ahllasta would say, her words followed by deep and thunderous vibratto. You'd sooner call her words thunder than thinking them to be anything like speech. Each syllable spills like a landslide into the open air. Perhaps she's bluffing about knowing Anora's current state, either way, it'd be hard to make a bet against that body which now literally permeates a predators presence.

The aforementioned ambiguous force would be just weak enough as to not totally overwhelm Anora nor cause her to lose consciousness.


Sweltering heat spills as a searing mist into Darsby's conscious space. Somehow, Ahllasta's unregulated presence is affecting him inside his invisible realm. This sensation begins to reawaken memories both old and recent in his mind. He can hear a woman shouting something about revenge while his chest slowly starts to burn. His mind begins to home into its present circumstance at a higher pace than before.
I appreciate the change, I imagine it's going to make things a bit smoother in the long run here lol.

I most definitely did not draw that, I wish I was that good of an artist lol. I usually have reference photos for the characters I introduce or something close. I have a Pinterest account I use for inspiration. I also enjoy using descriptors though, I should flex the vocabular muscles whenever I get the chance.

Don't worry, it's fun to share it! I've been doing some D&D styled RP's involving this same world lately and it's done wonders for me on learning how to ease people into this world. My recent learnings won't show until we're a bit in but at least things should be a bit more bearable moving forward.

Yeah, we've been marching right along lately!

I haven't really but I've been feeling a bit better. I've been going through a whole lot of illness type stuff lately.
Ahllasta shifts posture again, one hand falling to its respective side. This free hand poises itself as if it were ready to chop and jab at the drop of a hat. Her carnivorous eyes dance for less than three seconds this time around, dashing from the hallway and then back to Anora after deciding their time is better spent in a damaged living room. She's thinking, turning some despicable thought on its other side via firey metaphorical utensils.

"How about this?-" Ahllasta, being more a woman of action than debate and bargaining, had made up her mind to follow a new, unspoken course of action. She lived from the hip and enacts all her decisions to reflect said truth.

A small shimmering thread, only visible by its super-thin reflective surface, is withdrawn from Ahlassta's pocket. One small metallic sphere is held, dangling at the end of said string. Ahllasta twirls the sphere in circles until suddenly it glows a bright red alongside emitting a low hum. She eventually tosses the sphere through a nearby wall into the hallway where her partner is, a light *Crack* and spray of dust being the only indication that it's moved through two layers of plaster.

*Crash!* Through the earlier mentioned plaster comes Ahllasta's alleged partner via a faint twitch of her wrist, dazed and completely wrapped in that thin threading. "Wha-?" He'd sputter amidst clouds of dust before a simple flick to his temple sends a sharp *Crack!* through the room, disabling the poor man as he slumps into being entirely supported by a faint twinkling twine. Not even a second later he is dropped, still bound, to the floor below. In Ahllasta's hand is a pair of jingling keys.

"My rides faster." She'd say whilst mischief paints her features in prideful swathes. She lets go of the yarn in her hand and gently kicks at Darsby's shattered leg in such a way that he's pulled across the floor towards Ahllasta, underneath Anora's hellhound. Another seemingly gentle kick and Darsby is likely tossed over Ahllasta's shoulder should there be no interference.

Throughout this entire affair which transpired as if it were some pre-ordained course of perfected action occurring in no more than seven seconds flat, Ahllasta never broke eye-contact with Anora. "You're coming with, dear." She'd casually remark with a sneer before turning towards the way out, intending to walk to the black 1974 Mustang she'd arrived in.

A cell-phone, somewhere on the floor in the hallway continues to emit faint sounds. "Hello...? Vince...? Respond now, or I'll assume the worst," would come a stern voice.


"So, I'm on Earth?" Darsby would mutter to himself inside a swirling vortex of jumbled conversations. His mind is still far from present circumstance.
Oh I'm sorry! I must have missed that part when I went to make my response. I didn't mean to do that! Thank you for your understanding.

She looks a good bit like this:
Sorry for not posting a pic sooner!

Her name is pronounced "Ah-last-uh". I appreciate you taking the time to ask, most people don't care about specific pronunciations. Makes me feel like my characters actually mean something lol :D

A leathery tongue struts slowly over the lower, then the upper lip of Ahllasta's vicious mouth. Sharp canines are seen for a brief moment behind meaty lips. Feral eyes pace Anora's figure for roughly five seconds straight before speech again enters this encounter. Her vascular arms split from one another to place hands on burly hips.

"All I'll say is, I'd like to defeat Darsby. Before I could witness anything other than this reproachful form-" Ahllasta kicks at Darsby's limp leg, a light *crack* being heard from beneath his flesh as she does so. "-my partner shot him down. I'll help you, so long as you don't get in the way when I see fit to make good on my grudge." Each sentence passes quickly into the growls and sneers that follow her words. She sounds like an animal accustomed to speech only enough for it to look relatively natural, words being a tool she only employs when needed. She speaks just silently enough for her partner not to hear of any bargaining happening in the living room.

The grey-suited man can be heard from the living room. Sighs, "yes, I know" and "I get it, but this is big, I'm sure" can be heard on several occasions past the thin living room walls. One finger is lightly tapping against Ahllasta's hip to express urgency over time. The rest of her is motionless aside from animalistic facial features, making that one fidgeting appendage stand out.


Darsby swims in a sea of dislocated words. He's taken to sorting out the sentences he's spoken to others after deciding he is physically somewhere entirely foreign. Words collide to form coherent statements about him; statements align to express when everything was said. Perhaps by understanding his own need to say what he said he can understand what pushed him into this state. Perhaps he'd be better off sticking to what he's most recently witnessed, either way, it's better to start somewhere specific than nowhere in particular. At least, he hopes he's taking a correct course of action.
Darsby feels his spirit slip from space and time alongside the sound of gently running rapids. He was here only moments ago during his bodies previous recuperation. Ebony and ivory collide as shadows strike surrounding lights with force against his unsubstantial form. Thoughts and relevant information struggle to formulate inside this flowing dimension just beyond the haze of our supposedly solid reality. Conflict over what it is that has just occurred fights for supremacy of importance. Darsby wrestles to regain proper sentience after having been forcefully tossed into this other realm while Anora resolves to stand for whatever semblance of life she may yet hold.


This huntress tenses further, proving that this action isn't impossible despite her visibly flexed muscles. Ahllasta had taken notice of Anora and kept her reaction at bay. The creature before her had been subdued entirely without a struggle despite her previous wishes. She knew this man; she had a score with him.

Ahllasta had wished to perch herself atop Darsby's body, waiting for him to recover so she may derive the satisfaction of genuinely striking him down. The man in grey, Vince, had taken said luxury away. She cared for little else than prey and grudges; in our present scenario, he had stolen both.

Slowly, Ahllasta turns towards Anora. Though she reeks of aggression and ill-kept notions of hate, she didn't appear to be directing any of it towards our young human.
"Girl, you know this man?" Her words slip with the anger of a military instructor struggling to keep their louder vocalities at bay.

Ahllasta's posture would then change upon Anora mustering the strength to fabricate veritable hell-hounds. This alien huntress has one small but thick brown horn protruding its sharp surface from the center of her forehead, glittering by the faint specks of blood that splattered over its surface from the previous attack. Just below said feature dwells a newly revived outward mode of emotion. All at once this woman shifts from predator to aggressive negotiator. Her arms casually lace themselves beneath her breasts, her hips sway slightly to the left, her feet turn somewhat outwards. All that still held on to vicious dismay were her eyes, those heinous, beating eyes.

"He needs you for something, doesn't he? What if I said I'd help you get him out of here?" Her lips curled once more to release those leering words. She spoke like a beast turning to address some lesser animal impassionately.


Darsby begins to recollect his fragmented self from within the spatial void he now occupies. The outside world comes to him in muffled waves of prismatic light and slurred sounds. Cognition begins to spin it's whirring gears again as method transcend logic, feelings collide to transcend expression, and finally, words arrive to make sense of the pieces at play.

"I'm... I've been put here?" He musters to say to himself, still many moments from making sense of current circumstance. He attempts to align an out-of-order sequence of memories. Gunfire, cars, smoke, a girl, conversation, a residence. He feels he's getting close, but this likely won't produce any externally visible results in an amount of time that Anora should reasonably bargain for.
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