Status

Recent Statuses

26 days ago
Current OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! HOW CAN I LIVE WITHOUT SHITPOSTING WITH MY MERRY CREW OF SHITLORDS ON DISCORD! HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL! youtube.com/watch?v=zfbK_db…
4 likes
1 mo ago
Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand. Creatures crawl in search of blood to terrorize y'all's neighborhood. Tonight is Thriller night. Happy Halloween everyone!
3 likes
9 mos ago
Woohoo, statuses updates!
12 mos ago
Happy holidays, folks!
3 likes
1 yr ago
Just woke up to a blackout this morning. Half the city in the dark. Coincidence?

Bio

NOTICE: Still looking for a 1x1 story partner. Mind that I'm not a quick post shooter, due to work, so I tend to write a paragraph or two in such RPs instead of a few lines. If anyone reading this is still interested, send a PM my way.

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In a bleak world that is called reality...
A young man tries to find his path in life...
And so he decided to do Role-Playing!


Ahem, hello everyone! Y'all can call me Max, or Maxxy, or Maxwell House even! Fine, Riffus will do just fine too...
I'm what some would call a veteran RPer, despite not having been much active in these parts, or at all for the last 3 years. As a matter of fact, I started RP'ing ever since I started high school, and that was probably more than 15 years ago...

...

God, that makes me feel old.

So anyways, since I'm a nice guy and I know some might not want to absolutely know EVERYTHING about me (well, not everything really), I've highlighted areas of my introduction where you guys might be more interested in.

ORIGINS

Some people might know me from where I initially started RP'ing,the "Artix Entertainment Forums". Yeah, the forums dedicated to all games made by Artix Entertainment, such as their very first fame "AdventureQuest", "DragonFable" and "MechQuest" to name only a few. I was known as Necrodan for a while. Afterwards it was Dread_Shadow_Max for a long time, but that name eventually grew too moody for my lively self, so I came to adopt the name representing myself in a better way, the same alias I am using right now.

After some... let's say... issues with the former forums, a lot of its RP'ers (myself included) moved on to another forum that one of us has created. It was thusly called: "The Forbidden Forums". Quite shady, huh? Well, it had a story behind, of which I wasn't involved myself. I Rp'ed there for years, amidst many quarrels and unfinished RPs, until life struck a terrible blow against my poor self.

LIFE STRIKES BACK!

I HAD GOTTEN A JOB! Yes, poor old me was tired of living carefree in the debts of a student loan (from a program I didn't even finish at college), and so I decided to take on the mantle of a hard-working man. Never did I thought that writing RPs and working at night would be so detrimental, and as such I had resigned my fate as a RP'er to better focus on working...

Nah, in fact it's just that I couldn't keep up with the RP's I was in and found great difficulty to focus on writing. Working 12 hours a day isn't great. You just barely get back from work, eat, sleep, then repeat for 4 days. And during weekends, you'Re just too tired that you either sleep all day, laze around all-day long or just try to enjoy what little social life you have left. Life was dark at that point.

RETURN OF THE JEDI RP'ER!

Eventually, things grew to be smoother. I have gotten a new job. Still at night, but it's 8 hours instead, that makes a few more hours of free time. I have used most of that time to catch up on my games and discover new ones. But now that I'm feeling a part of me missing, a part of my creative self that yearned to write about epics and fantastic stories, I've decided to return to RP'ing once more after nearly 3 years of inactivity in the domain.

I do hope that I will be able to meet the expectations of my new comrades-in-writing and that we will all be having fun weaving the stories that have yet to be written. But hey, let's stop talking about myself, or rather my personal self. Let's delve instead into my RP'ing persona.

PREFERENCES

I'm what you would call a Jack-Of-All-Trades. I like RP'ing as a whole, be it in fantasy, sci-fi, dark or even school life settings. I do them all! I'm mostly a man of group RP's, but I've started enjoying 1x1's just before leaving for 3 years. I just love interactions between characters, as I feel they are a needed part in a successful RP. In fact, I'm a sucker for character development. Not only do I enjoy seeing the story progress, but I also love seeing the characters in that story evolving from the adventures they are experiencing.

As for my RP'ing style, you can trace it back from posts I made a few years back. I do enjoy writing lengthy and detailed pragraphs (just look at that gods be damned biography about myself that will mostly be overlooked). That's the only way to get all these ideas from that overloaded brains of mine! So I'm very sorry in advance to those who don't like reading wall of texts. For those who actually like it, then you're very much welcome!

Actually, it's just the way I was taught to write in school. A story and its characters are much more fun to read if you know the characters, their background or even their more in-depths detail. Assuming one does not overuse details of course, a mistake I was often told in the past.

Well, that's it for me. Sorry for the long introduction to my self. Hope you had a blast knowing a bit more about me. And I do hope we will be having nice RP's to be written.

So in short, it's nice to be back!

Most Recent Posts

Posting my CS here for review.
-Deleted-
Shitposting killed us all indeed.
Hello, I am a dead player.
Paint me with interest and dump me in the "waiting bin". I believe I may have something interestingly stupid for this RP.
@Crusader Lord

Aye, the dynamics behind making our collab posts are great. I find it certainly more entertaining to bring the whole collaboration into an online pad and add to it while we are brainstorming ideas. The whole thing brings characters way closer, which is a good thing because character interactions are what drives me the most out of all this.

Also, if you are curious about reading the actual character interactions, January put the timeline in the 0th IC post. It doesn't cover the battle posts or some solo posts, but it mostly showcases the collabs that were done during a certain period of time. You can mostly get the relationships between characters from those links.
@Crusader Lord

Seeing you have a keen interest in reading our RP, allow me to save you a headache of searching through the pages if you want to update yourself with the current events.

Start reading from this post. That GM update post is the actual start of this arc.

You wouldn't be quite wrong about Chris and Siena being a ship, but you'd have to dig further into the RP to know more about the relationships between the characters. WishEater is heavily based on collaborative posts and weeks dedicated to character interaction have a tremendous amount of it.


𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟝

“There is someone. Not ours.”

Questions once more began to quickly run inside Angélique’s mind as she heard the update on their situation, to occupy her head away from the pain, and provide what little means to fight against the pain and the black veil settling into her sight. Hopeful thoughts were wondering if those unknown folks were her classmates coming to rescue her. Everyone had dealt with Rogues and much more gigantic monster before, surely they would be alright against these criminals?

Angel was shaken off from her hopeful thoughts when she was tossed aside by the shadowy creature. Her vision flashed with pain and another muted agonizing gasp was released from her mouth as Angel’s brutal landing on the rocky beach did no good onto her mangled arms and sawed-off legs. But that was nothing compared to what was coming next.

Just as she was spitting a mouthful of sand, the crippled Voice Mage heard the conversation that would strike fear into the deepest parts of her soul. She looked as the psychopath surgeon approached. Trembling, Angel’s body tried squirming uselessly away, her head shaking negatively from side to side while her lips formed muted words, pleading.

No more…

But she was ignored, as always. With teary eyes, her legs were being sawed-off once more, but this going up to her hip. This time, she felt it: the horrible sensation of the saw’s teeth plunging into her skin and eating away at her flesh, her muscles, her nerves and even through the bone. The pain was so overwhelming, Angélique was just about to black when suddenly, another jolt of pain came from her back and then everything faded away.

Did she died? Her eyes were open, she could still see the beach’s sand and rocks just beneath her head, but she felt nothing. There was this throbbing aching in her head that she had felt when she woke up, but the pain, while faint, seemed to have vanished from her body. The ex-rockstar wasn’t sure if she should be relieved to finally feel no pain, or if she should be alarmed of her current state of being. At first, she wasn’t even aware her arms were soon to join her legs into the discarded pile.

Enough…

She’d soon find out however that she was well alive, and the brutal surgeon woman named “Thi” wasn’t even halfway done with her yet. With horror etched into her sand-ridden face, Angélique witnessed her whole body being butchered. Even if she felt nothing, she definitively “felt” that hand working inside her body and removing whatever was needed. From gasps of discomfort to agonizing sighs, Angélique went through all the noises a muted person with someone playing with their organs could make.

She was literally opened and gutted like an animal. Even her hair, that she had never cut once in her life and had a certain pride in was discarded into the pile of what had been deemed “unnecessary” entrails.

Casting one last look at her surroundings, the whole ordeal had left such a mess on the beach. Her “corpse” was so bloody, a sickening (had she a stomach left) pile of discarded organs, her limbs tossed aside like vulgar broken Barbie pieces and a mixture of bloody flesh mounds, wet sand and black hair was left somewhere on the ground as well.

There was no dignity left in this naked corpse-like torso of Angélique Lachance. Barely a hint of feeling human. She felt like an animal that had went through the slaughterhouse. No, it was worse than that. At least animals had the decency of dying while being butchered up. Angel had been kept alive for an obscure reason that her brain had now stopped thinking about.

She was less than an animal.

Pitiful…

She was a Subnatural.

Trash…

Her world really had become darker.

Welcome to the real world.



𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟘


It hurts.

Her world was pain.

With every movement, it felt as if lightning bolts crossed her vision. Each movement of her legs, her arms and her neck caused horrible suffering and an ever-increasing obscure blanketing her sight. A change of direction, her arms swung abruptly to one side, another jolt of pain flaring from her elbows making its way to her throat in a muted groan, which caused even more pain to her freshy torn and stitched throat. More than once, Angel wanted to bring a hand to her neck and rub and scratch at the aching there, but she couldn’t.

At that moment, there wasn’t any second this pitiful ragdoll swung over the giant shadow creature wouldn’t feel pain. Her glassy eyes stared blankly at her unmoving arms. No matter how much she tried, she could not move a single finger. It pained her doing so as well. Angel had given up on trying to move her limbs, as it only provoked more suffering and threatened her already-fading consciousness to black out entirely.

How did things come to be this way? What did they even want from her? Why did they do all this to her? Why her? Those were questions among many that Angélique kept asking herself internally. Questions to take her mind away from the pain, as little good as it did to her. But the agonizing young woman was left unsatisfied with her shortcomings, and damning her lack of means to communicate.

Oh, the Irony. Angel had cursed herself so much for having this deadly voice of hers. A voice that was meant to kill or bring pain. So much at times she wished she would be mute and stop hurting others. A very contrast view of her situation compared to before when she was grateful to have such a voice that captivated the hearts of thousands.

But right now, just how much she longed she still had a voice. Even if it had been for a few missed, the raven-haired Aberration already missed that voice. To call out the terrible power she had begun to loathe. To protect herself. To call out for the others to help her.

As much as she had tried, she could feel that familiar warmth of her magic working her throat, but it soon grew to be cold as nothing came out. Not only her screams, but deep inside she could feel that even her voice projections couldn’t reach for the others, or the surrounding area. She was effectively speechless, a powerless Mage. Just how fucking good her power as an Aberration was without a voice?

As much as she missed her voice, Angélique also began cursing her powers. So weak and so pathetic, again. Was it her fate as a Mage to be held helpless and useless? What if she had Callan or Sander’s strength? What if she was as powerful as Hazel or Zoe? Would she be like this right now?

Up until now, Angel was squirming, either in pain or in attempts to get off from the giant’s shoulders. But with increasing fatigue and weakness, her adrenaline had somewhat settled down after she realized she could do nothing. As minutes went by, the aching and the haze of her hangover were slowly replaced by more pain and a dreadful damp cold washing over her body.

So cold. She could feel it now. The cold October rain falling mercilessly onto her mangled body. Her clothes were drenched, her skin was dripping wet with cold droplets. It felt like ice. Her still body began quivering slightly in response to that heat loss. Was it because she had lost a lot of blood? Or was it because she was dying? So many questions to distract her mind from all this pain.

It hurts.

So much suffering.

How she wished she could just fade out already.


𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟘𝟘

After what felt like a while, Angélique slowly returned to consciousness. A pained groan escaping her lips signaled she was just about waking up, her mind struggling to shake off the fog veiling her senses. Her brain had most difficulty registering everything happening around her. Her vision was blurry, but she could feel the slight rocking of her body in motion.

What happened tonight? She could barely remember having spent the night drinking bottles after bottles of wine while staring at the ocean from the clifftops, before she blacked out. This sure was the worst hangover she ever felt in her life. Her whole body felt numb and sore. Her head felt as if it was in the clouds, a strange dizziness overtaking her. A throbbing ache in her head. A sensation that was even worse than that time she had inhaled the fumes of her bandmates’ smoking weed.

She didn’t know what was happening beyond being moved. And there was something that felt wrong. A dull aching in her lower body. She felt numb all over her body, but there was something missing, a sensation that should’ve been there.

Eventually, after a few minutes of her mind trying to puzzle itself back together, the raven-haired Aberration’s sight slowly began to clear and distinguish the shapes around her. It was still night, or at least early morning, for the darkness of the night hasn’t lifted yet, but the faint glimmer of sunlight over the oceanic horizons and the faint glow of red creeping up in the sky heralded the coming of a new day.

There were a few figures standing all around her, and she could now distinguish the rocking of her body up and down and wildly swinging around as she was being carried carelessly by a huge black creature. Was that Emma’s Determination? Had she found Angel and decided to bring her back to the estate? But then, why not use the car?

The more Angélique started questioning herself, the more her brain began to register every little detail. And with that, the strange and wrong sensations washing over her body. The feeling of trying to move her legs for balance to counter the momentum of swinging so wildly, to little avail because despite willing to move her lower limbs, nothing happened.

Because they weren’t there anymore.

W-what?

The first thing that her eyes saw very clearly was the missing part of her legs, down from her knees. Where her legs had been, there were stumps of flesh protruding from her torn black jeans.

How? When? Why?

Even as she willed her legs to move. As much as she desperately wished it wasn’t true, nothing happened. She could feel herself moving her limbs, but her lower body didn’t obey that command, or rather the physical sensation of her moving feet wasn’t there.

A creeping dread began to settle in on Angélique’s now-clearer mind. Her head moved around, catching sight of what was happening. She was being carried away indeed.

But that wasn’t Determination at all.

And those weren’t her classmates. Nameless faces. Strangers.

Then a flash of insight. She had slept earlier, in all of her drunken stupor. She had woken up to a sharp pain in her knees, then the cold sensation grabbing her neck just before blacking out.

“W-what’s happening?...” Angélique called out faintly, her magical voice reaching out to all of those strangers.

You are being held powerless… again...

“W-who are you?...” Her voice grew louder, more alarmed.

People wishing you harm, just like the whole world out there.

“M-my legs… how!?” the words were almost shouted directly in their ears.

You are going to be butchered up then killed!

The panic mixed with the Stigma pounding at her mind in light of this development gripped the Voice Mage’s heart. Instinctively, she trashed around to free herself from the creature holding her, trying in vain to kick the thing.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs a powerful "WHY", toned with a mixture of grief and anger. A desperate shriek that few had compared before to a banshee’s wail, but nowadays was referred to as the worst siren screech one would have the displeasure of hearing. The wrathful brain-pounding yell resonated all around her, with the force of a slight shove hitting those standing next to the screaming Aberration.

Angélique had no intention to stop, her mind stricken with the thoughts that she has just lost an important part of herself. The voices in her head reminding her that she was now powerless without legs and taunting her wih ill omens.

The heavy pulse of mental deadlock and force from the Aberration's screech knocked over several of the Amigos around her, including the group's apparent leader, who clutched his head with a sharp cry. Thi, however, remained mostly unfazed, staggering only slightly from the effects of the magic as her veins raced purple and black, her body modifications withstanding the force of the scream. Where her human muscles could not bear the brunt of the force, the mechanized joints and reinforced bones moved steadily forward according to signals from her brain, ignoring the tearing pain of flesh still pummeled by a the sonic force.

A metallic claw pushed out from the nail bed of her left index finger, tearing off the normal nail in the process. With a quick slice, she opened the girl's throat, ending the vocal menace as suddenly as it had begun. Inhuman dexterous fingers curved into more joints than possible, skin tearing to make way for the needle-thin spikes that pushed out from beneath muscle and bone.

Surgery was a quick process, the purple and black lines winding supernatural effects to every incision and stitch until the woman had cleanly removed the true vocal words, leaving behind bloody, but effective stitches across the horizontal of Angel's throat. She examined the carefully separated folds of flesh in her hands, then knelt down to her carrying case, tucking the bloody flesh into a small, zip-sealed plastic bag produced from the pocket of her coat before shoving everything into the briefcase.

Completely powerless. As a Regular, Angélique had felt it once in her life, which had prompted her into training physically to properly defend herself. Now, as a Subnatural, that dreadful feeling had crept in once again as her screamed stopped, replaced by a choked gurgle under the homicidal surgeon’s proceedings.

The Voice Mage’s eyes grew wide with horror as the flesh from her throat was torn open. The pain, it was unbearable. Despite the numbness that had overtaken her body and the mild hangover, the piercing of these claws tearing and cutting at her flesh and nerves went way beyond this veil of insensitivity. There probably never was a time Angel could remember having felt so much pain. It was alarming. It hurted so much. So much that her eyes began watering, piling up onto the pain of having lost her legs.

The young woman's screaming tantrum was replaced by a choked wheeze. As much as she pushed air out from her lungs in an attempt to shout, without vocal chords now there was no modulation for that outtake of air. Only a muted sigh. Now this was what true despair felt like. No voice to call out for help. No legs to run for her life or at least stand her ground. No magic to protect herself or the others. She was just lying there, a bloodied mess surrounded by people just as murderous as real monsters. And it terrified the young black-haired woman. Terribly so.

Was it a spiteful look of hatred that was reflected in her teary eyes, or wrathful pain? For as physically numb as she was, Angélique could feel the searing pain throughout her body, mainly at her throat and the stumps she had for legs. Her lips desperately formed words of sheer hatred, but it all came out simply as an unspoken breath out. One hand had reached out for her throat, clawing at the stitches holding her throat together as if she could alleviate the pain like scratching an itching rash.

Powerless. Useless. Helpless.

Despite all of the odds, the dread and her inabilities, the Aberration singer did not give up her assault. Whether it was because of sheer determination, fearful desperation or simply because she was driven mad by unprecedented anger, Angélique arms flailed around. Her arms were the only things functional at this point, and she’ll be damned if she wouldn’t use them to at least catch someone's face in her mindless numb frenzy. It hurt so much. She'll make them pay.

Recovered from the aftereffects of the scream, the dark-skinned man floated his orb above a palm again, waiting for it to beat like a heart before a surge of unseen power gripped at Angel's arms, twisting them round until the elbows snapped first. There had been no orders against maiming her, after all, and for failing to capture the main target, he was determined at least to procure this one. If they could please this particular client, even the Father would not mind the primary objective's failure.

Terrible pain jolted once more through her numb body as soon as Angel could feel the elbows snap from a an unseen force. Mouth agape, she let out another muted scream escape her throat while her arms stopped and fell motionlessly, dangling useless by her sides.

She really was done for, that much Angel realized. No legs, arms useless, no voice, no power. She had nowhere to go. She was at their mercy. The pain. So much pain. She felt like she was just about to blackout from the sheer intensity of it. Somehow, she didn’t.

Her body began quivering violently. Fear was paralyzing her. She couldn’t do anything anymore. All she could wish was for them to stop maiming her and kill her already. The raven-haired Mage hoped her friends would come and save her from this torment. But she couldn’t have them suffer the same as she was now.

Resigned, Angélique remained motionless, still trembling and tears running down her cheeks as she silently wheezed in pain and sobs.

"What if they're at the house--hey, Nate!" the tattooed girl snarled, speech jagged like she knew no other way to speak. Her dark curls were stiff and oily from days without bathing and too many attempts to hairspray it back into place, but right now the wild look in her eyes didn't show an inkling of the person beneath--just something rabid.

"Nate," the dark-skinned telekinetic who had broken Angel's arms looked his ally over, distaste sour on his tongue and face as he wrinkled his nose in response. "Do what you want, Isabelle. Just get out of my sight."

"Hah!" And with a rapturous cry she was off, racing towards the direction of the mansion while the rest of the group continued southward, towards the town's edge.

"I'm going!" a shorter boy followed in her clamor, but it only took him a single step to catch up to her, like distance didn't exist for him. He caught her by the elbow, blue-streaked hair unbefitting for the serious look on his face, but it was Isabelle who had dyed it for him. If there was cameraderie to be found in small things, he supposed that was it. Another step jumped them away, the distance increasing between the two and the group left behind.

The molten-eyed blond looked on, exasperation in his expression. After exchanging a brief, apologetic look with Nate he left too, calling after the wild-haired pair to wait up.

Their leader watched in silence, brows furrowed like he had something to say, but ultimately withheld comment. Once the three had disappeared from view, he turned away, nodding towards the shadow creature to continue following them to the town pier.
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