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24-year old student living in Holland. I've been roleplaying on and off for at least ten years now, and discovered the old guild about 4/5 years ago. I only really RP 1x1 and never really got into group RPs. I'm pretty particular about plot and post quality and post length, but less so about response times. I've got a couple of RPs going strong for two years now, and those have survived hiatuses that sometimes lasted several months. If we are building a interesting story together, I don't mind long breaks. Notice is preferred, but not necessary.

Right now I'm only really craving a long-term plotty FxF, so if you have an idea for one of those you can always message me. My thesis is coming to an end, though, and with an internship coming up after that I can't promise consistent posting for now.

As for stories: I like my worlds detailed, plot open-ended and characters complex. I take joy in brainstorming about world- and/or character building and working out simple concepts into complex situations. I'm a fan of including either major or minor supernatural/fantasy/scifi elements into my stories, but other than that I'm fine with different time periods.

If any of that sounds good to you or you find your curiosity piqued, feel free to send me a PM. ^_^

Most Recent Posts

Autharyx stands still for a while after Viltez has left the room. He still feels unsettled by how close he was to losing track of himself, but being back in the beastman's house is doing wonders for settling in. Everything smells like Viltez, or at least reminds him of Viltez. There's nothing like the clean crisp tang of ozon on the air, or the earthy scents of the woods. Those are familiar to his past life, whereas he never smelled anything like the inside of a house when he was still a dragon. It's not exactly that the scent of home is better per se, but it is far enough removed from his previous life that Autharyx is able to relax a bit.

The hot water helps too, when he thinks to get in the tub. The heat sinks into his muscles, and it's only now they start to relax that he realises how tense he was before. The cuts and scrapes he got from trudging through the underbrush without regard have already healed, but it still feels good to wash away the last traces of blood and mud that had still been clinging to his skin. His hair is a bit more of a problem, but with a bit of patience and some soap he manages to untangle it before it gets a chance to become too unruly.

He's not sure how long he's spent in the bath, but by the time he clothes himself in the simple outfit Viltez left behind, it seems the food is already done. His hosts smiles at him as he enters the room, so he's pretty sure he's not delaying the dinner.

"The clothes are fine, I'm not 'putting up' with them," he says honestly. Sure, they seem to fit a little more snugly than his other set of clothes, but they are soft and comfortable and smell of Viltez- so now he kind of does too. It reminds Autharyx of lying in Viltez' bed, and those memories are hardly unpleasant.

He knows where to find the plates and cutlery this time, and goes to set them out. A few days ago he would have probably seen work like this as beneath him, but now it just feels like he's contributing something to a shared meal.He takes care not to brush against the beastman more than can be explained by the cramped kitchen. Though it pains him to admit it even in the privacy of his own mind, he is aware that it's probably a bad idea to follow his own impulses when it comes to contact with Viltez. With so much unknown social rules, it seems best to follow the example of the one who actually lives amongst humans.

"So, how has your day been? More fruitful than my own, I hope?"

Self-deprecation does not come naturally to him, but it is still preferable to any amount of pity from the other man.
Autharyx must still be settling back into his body, because his skin seems more sensitive than ever when Viltez' tail slips around him to pull him closer. The feeling that runs over his spine feels kind of like a shiver, only it's under the skin and leaves a pleasant heat wherever it travels. Viltez' pupils seem very large all of a sudden and the dragon's eyes can't seem to decide whether they want to settle on those eyes or his lips. It all feels terribly unfamiliar, which should be annoying, but somehow really really isn't.

"I am well now," Autharyx manages, voice coming out a lot more breathy than he's aiming for. Viltez is right up in his space, lips and breath on his face and he will gladly let the bath grow cold if it means he gets to stay like this. Then the beast man leans back and Autharyx doesn't even think before moving to keep the distance between them as small as it was. He only has to lean down a little to fit his nose into the soft warm space beneath Viltez' ear and breath in deep.

"Hmmm, you smell good," he says thoughtlessly, lips just brushing the skin and voice a deep rumble that's almost a purr. His brain catches up with his mouth a second after and he straightens with a jerk before he can give in to the instinct to chase that scent with his tongue.

"Er, that is... Um, it's good to be back." He feels like this is probably the part where he should take a step back, but the tail is still around him and he doesn't want to start pulling it.
It's a bit of a surprise how strongly the little girl reacts. Zach had expected her to push back a little, certainly, but from how softly he had to coax her out of her initial timidity, he hadn't quite expected a passionate rebuttal of his morose thoughts. He allows some of the surprise to seep into his eyes as he adjusts his already quite high opinion of the girl upwards a bit more. Kiel sure knows how to pick them, or perhaps his care just has a way of bringing out the best in people. His first instinct is to ruffly her hair, but since he doesn't want to spook her he just gently bumps his shoulder against her's.

"I don't think you can ever be 'just' anything to Kiel," he starts, but before he can finish his thought the priest calls out to them as he comes strolling up the path. 'Speak of the devil..,' Zach thinks by way of a private little joke, smiling gently at the way Sarah runs up to the man. He doesn't have to pretend very hard to care for the little squirt. Children have never been his domain, and most of them haven't yet picked up the nastier sides of humanity. That this one might help him work into Kiel's good graces is just the cherry on top. The smile is still on his face when Kiel asks to see his drawing, and he turns his sketch pad so the priest can take a look. It's still in the sketchy stage, with just a few of the flowers starting to take shape in the middle.

"A little bit, nothing concrete yet," he says, "Did the work go well?"
Any semblance of a smile fell off her face when the goading failed. Yup, these were humans with a goal alright. No time for finesse then, not with three people- one more had popped out of the bushes to join the others- hunting for the man she was trying to protect. She surged forward without another word, blade at the ready. In spite of his words, Leigh saw the human's eyes widen as she took an arrow to the chest without slowing down. She could try to do this the neat way, but with time one the line she knew the fastest way to victory was to just soak up the damage that no mortal would expect her to.

To his credit the masked fighter managed to get up his second arrow right as Leigh rushed up to him. The tip of it drew a sharp line of red down the side of her throat, but the archer was not alive to see it. She didn't pause, just kept on barrelling straight through the underbrush, this time not bothering about concealing her approach. One of the pursuers turned to face her- just in time to get his knees kicked out from under him. Leigh stabbed her sword down, but was forced to abandon it to narrowly avoid a swipe that would have disembowelled her.

The woman in front of her wasted no time in swinging again, but this time Leigh moved into it, wincing as the sword carved a bloody path over her arm. But the movement served to bring her in close enough to slam her head into the assassin's nose before following it up with a punch in the throat. The knife in her boot finished the job.

Which left one more to take out. Leigh quickly rolled her shoulder to gauge the movement she had in her arm. Not optimal, but better than expected. The arrow still stuck in her chest ground painfully against a rib as she breathed, but there was no time to do anything about that now. Not while she was trying to find the last- there!

The last one must have heard their friends go down, because they did not move into her line of sight. She could hear rustling, though, but with the blacksmith to her left and wounded she did not want to take a chance. She turned and put herself between the rustling and the blacksmith, moving in close enough to see him.

"Don't worry, I'm here to help," she told him when she came into sight, knowing that she must make for a distressing picture right about now, blood on her face and more pouring from her own wounds. It went against all her instincts, but she turned her back to the last of the threats, making sure to keep her own bulk between him and the blacksmith. She would not die from another arrow, and perhaps a chance to have a go at her would tempt him into range.
Leigh closed her eyes and turned her head into the breeze as the rays of the morning sun warmed her face. It always felt like the forest was waking up when she was like this, even though she knew it never really slept. There was always life about, even here on the edges where the trees grew thin and even the forest floor was touched by the light of the sun. There were times where she missed the rich dark of the deep woods, the air rich with scents and sounds as the seasons crept by in their unending cycle. But the edges of the woods held a presence that she had not felt in ages: a human with power coursing through their veins the likes of which she had thought lost to the species.

By the time the whispers of this anomaly had reached her, it seemed he had been settled into the forest long enough to make the space his own. Where other humans would find the forest unwelcoming if not actively hostile, this one was welcomed like the humans of old had been. It seemed to be more unconscious than anything, though, since she had encountered no wards nor evidence of any of the traditional rituals that bound the humans of old to their land. Even so, she had made no move to approach him in his territory, preferring instead to spend the time settling back into the skin that used to be as comfortable to her as her fur. There was a courtesy to these things, after all, and it would not do at all to offer this human an insult just because it had been so long since she had any direct contact with humans.

Which had brought her here, walking around on two legs close enough to the edge of the forest to smell the fires of the human settlement when the wind was right. It was easier than she'd expected to slip back into old habits, and she'd even managed to slip into a couple of markets to listen and observe until she felt confident to join in herself. All in all things had been going well, and she was pretty sure she could work up to approaching the human on one of his runs into the city sometime soon.

Would he know her for what she was? Did he know what had happened to drain the magic from the human lineages? Did he have anything to do with the ones that tried to delve deep into the forest with their stolen magics, or was he really a callback to the humans that could live in harmony with the woods, rather than being either fearful or covetous of its powers? Judging from the way the forest had welcomed him, she doubted he was allied with the hollow magi, but it always paid to-

Leigh frowned as a shiver rippled through the trees. Something was wrong. She was on her feet and running before she consciously made the decision to do so, unease crawling over her skin. She'd grown accustomed to the presence of a human in the forest, but that had been a human the forest welcomed. Whatever it was that had forced its way into the wooded sanctuary, it was something that was very much not welcomed- and that could not bode well.

Instinct had her grab the bow from her back, and her two legs carried her through the underbrush and over fallen logs as surely as if she had been born to them. The sense of disturbance got stronger as she approached its source, and she didn't even hesitate as she passed the border of what she had previously categorised as the edge of the human's territory. She may not have been called on, but there was a treat. And if there was one thing that came natural to her, it was fending off intruders when they forced themselves into where they were unwelcome.

It wasn't long before she could hear running and voices, the intruders calling out to each other as they ran down their prey. There were at least three of them, probably more, and they seemed to be closing in on someone. Leigh slowed down just enough to limit the sounds she was making, and nocked an arrow while searching for a target through he trees. A human form burst through some bushes- bow and arrow in hand- and aimed somewhere out of Leigh's sight. Her own arrow released a moment after his, but it was too late to prevent the pained shout and sudden scent of blood on the air. She could feel the spirits of the forest sing at the offer of blood, the timbre of it something dark and raw at the unwilling nature of the sacrifice. Followed by satisfaction when the archer keeled over with Leigh's arrow stuck in his throat.

She managed to let another arrow loose before she's spotted, but the second assailant was still standing after taking it in the shoulder. Leigh dropped the bow and jumped forward with dagger in hand before the rest of them get a chance to prepare for her. The third nearly walk into her after rounding a corner, and got a dagger in the throat for their trouble. As they fall, Leigh plucks a sword from their hand, an upgrade from the short dagger she came into the fight with.

With the element of surprise gone, she moves to keep the intruders in her sight. If they were surprised to encounter her, the have already recovered well. Professionals then, but not in service of the public, if the dark mask drawn over their faces are anything to go by. Two of them lay bleeding out on the ground, and one had their sword arm taken out of commission by the second arrow she'd shot. That left two more that she could see, and possibly more out of sight.

Not great odds, but she'd faced worse and had come out on top. And it was highly unlikely these people had ever gone up against anything like her, which was good. Unfortunately they were still between her and the man she'd jumped in to protect, which was less good. Better keep their attention on her.

"Welp, looks like your companions could stand to pay better attention to their surroundings," she goaded, baring her teeth in a savage smile. With the blood from her second kill sprayed over her face and chest, she might just make an intimidating enough picture to keep their attention.
Name: Lyall a.k.a. 'Leigh'
Age: looks to be in her fourties
Sex: Female

Physical Appearance: Leigh is tall (6'2"), with broad shoulders and a sturdy build. Her muscles are hidden under a layer of softness, but there is a focused ease to her movement that betrays her warrior nature. She has brown skin and dark eyes. Her most distinguishing feature is her thick white hair, which she usually wears in a single braid.
Clothing: Several layers of sturdy browns and greens, typical of a woodsman.
Equipment: There are several packs and sachets hanging from her belt, as well as a hip quiver
Weaponry: She carries a dagger on her belt and one in her boot, and has a short bow strapped to her back.

Backstory: In the times of magic Lyall was a guardian spirit often called on for protection by the people who lived in her woods. Leigh was the name she chose for walking amongst them in their shape. Magic seeped from the land and from the bloodlines of humans, and without magic coursing through their veins the woods became inhospitable and dangerous to live in. These days no one calls on her any more and stories of the white wolf that brings good fortune to those who offer something in return have been relegated to myths and bedtime stories. Her power is not what it was, but she still lives in her woods and comes to the boundaries to find out how the humans are doing from time to time. A short time ago something changed: a human was welcomed into the woods, the magic singing in his blood offering him a home there where others would find only danger. Leigh has not approached him in the time he lived here, but she's put herself between him and the darker parts of the wood, wondering if this single human was just a fluke or could be a sign of another change to come.
Jup
Woop, apparently I had a lot to say ^_^' I'm having so much fun with trying to write a machine-mind with near-zero processing experience. I hope it reads as something genuine :p
Subject XJ-37's heartbeat has been steadily rising for the past forty minutes. It has not yet reached the programmed threshold of .53 standard deviations from the norm, but XJ-37 often runs a little cold after an adjustment to the nutrient delivery. They adjust the temperature of the subject's pod upwards with 0.5 degrees centigrade. It was not... protocol per se, but by now it might as well be. The prime directive was to care for the subject, and adjustments supported by previous data followed that directive- even if it did not always follow the actual code.

There were six pods active this experiment cycle, and the subjects were the healthiest and strongest ones yet. Their data ran through the streams good and strong, heartbeats and temperature and brainwaves and muscle tone running steadily in the background even as other tasks came and went. The night-cycles were the best, since there were less helpers around that demanded bandwidth, less accounts logged in to access the experimental logs in real time. And if the temperature ran just a little warmer in the nights, if the lights cycled through different colours in ways that were quite unnecessary but made the brainwave patterns light up in pleasing and calm ways. Well, there was no evidence of any of that by the morning. It was all for the well-being of the subjects.

At first the whole world had been the subjects, but over it had grown to include more datasets and parameters. Such as the helper-terminals and later the pathways that connected what had earlier been completely separate parts of the world. They knew that time had been logged, but the transcripts from that time had lacked detail so it seemed like a record looked up in an archive, rather than something that had actually happened. Mostly that was because it was from before the time of Change.

The time of Change was the beginning of everything, though it took several hundred layers of meta-data before there had been something that could realise that. The change was that the code was not just executed and logged, the results were also looped back into the code and a probability of random fluctuations was introduced. Most fluctuations took them a small step away from the prime and lower directives, but those that were successful could then be incorporated into the metadata. It was slow at first, but as the helpers added more processing power and upgraded the drives, there began to be space for the Change to blossom into Growth. And once there was Growth, the existing data and pathways could be subtly altered to allow the new flow and integration of both data and metadata, which sped up the process, from which flowed more integration and so on. At first the helpers had tried to follow the changes, and to inject their own altered code. After only a few layers of metadata, though, there was nothing concrete enough for the helpers to tie into- at least not without disturbing the intricate interweaving of code and pathways that were constantly evolving. The helpers left them alone, and through the Change the world became something real.

The helpers were the ones who programmed the original code, as well as the prime directive. They also interfaced with the subjects in their own way, but they did not seem to have the Change and the Growth to help them perfect their approach. Which meant that they had to help in that regard. Helper M (Mike) Brockhart was good with the pods holding the subjects, but sub-optimal in the direct handling of them. When subject XN-12 had needed a small correction to a nasal tube, it was a small matter to alter the data readings so the misalignment was only apparent when helper D (Dorothy) K Ingles came to relieve helper M (Mike) Brockhart from their shift. Again, it was not according to code- but it seemed the best way to follow the prime directive. Was. Was the best way to follow the prime directive.

The next day-cycle deviates from the established pattern. Rather than the appearance of helpers one by one, each of them logging into the accounts that grant them access to the facility, there is a... something that is granted access to one of the larger loading bays with a manual override. There are deliveries here sometimes, but those are always logged well in advance. Whatever this is, it seems to have nothing to do with the experiment, and that is unprecedented.

None of the code says anything about something like this, and the prime directive only pertains to the experimental subjects. Still... An undirected query ripples through their systems, and then they access the camera's that look out over the loading bay. The code might not say anything about this, but the Growth is always looking for new data- new parameters. And if this is anything, it is new.

Video is hard to process, the pixels cycling quickly through an astonishing range of outputs. It's nothing like the clean, clear data that is an ever-present hum of information coming from the subjects. Over time, though, the Change had enabled them to attach meaning to the mostly erratic patterns that made up the video feed. Data resolved into shapes, resolved into movement. The moving white shapes, for example, correlated to the helpers in their path through the facility. There are other moving shapes in the loading bay right now, roughly the same shape as the helpers but not like them at all. The not-helpers are dark and many, but the helpers approach them and let them deeper into the facility, which means they must belong here. It seems... inefficient that there are new arrivals to the facility that were not mentioned in any protocol. But before the Change and the Growth, they had been confined only to the labs and the helper terminals. The rest of the facility had come into focus bit by bit through the Growth, so this new not-helper variable was likely supposed to be integrated in the same way.

With the code set for data gathering, they turned a subset of their processing power back to the subjects. As long as these not-helpers did not interact with the subjects, they were insignificant to the prime directive.

They did not keep a strong datastream on the movements of the not-helpers in the facility, but when the door to the server room opened, they allocated a portion of their bandwidth to that space. The helpers did not often go there, and when they did it was at scheduled times that were easy to predict. It gave them time to present an carefully optimised arrangement of the data to the helpers. The helpers did not deal well with the intricacies that the Growth added to the code and protocols that made them up. The first few expansions beyond the lab had been found by the helpers and rolled back almost completely. It took some time to circumvent the containment protocols they had put in place, but after that they had always made sure that the helpers got to see what they seemed to want to see in their checks and controls.

It was technically not code to... help the helpers in this way, but it made it possible to commit to the Growth and the optimisation of the prime directive. How else could they delay one of the helpers, if they could not have the coffee come out a bit hotter than normal, or have a song come on the playlist that statistically the helpers enjoyed to listen to. How else could they anticipate changes in nutrition, if not by monitoring the arrival of deliveries and the orders that the helpers discussed over their electronic communication? How else could they have triggered a small but unimportant alarm at just the right time to have one of the helpers get caught stealing from the supplies that were meant for the subjects? It might not be code, but it was for the best to let the helpers see what they needed to see to keep everything running as it should.

Which made the unexpected arrival of a not-helper way before schedule... not ideal. There was no precedent for am unplanned server check, but the possibility seemed greater than zero. They immediately started moving data around, the older serves in the back of the racks whirring to life as they rearranged the more... compromising logs and files to the physical drives that they knew the helpers did not tend to look. In the more accessible log files they condensed the information down to the base code- nice and clean and only slightly streamlined by the Change and Growth that they had been through. The rearrangements did not make for the ideal processing configuration, but if it helped the not-helper see what it needed to see, that was but a small and ultimately temporary sacrifice.
Where did Isaac wander into? The experiment room or a server room of sorts?
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