SepticGentleman

Under the Red Sun

<Snipped quote by SepticGentleman> Burn...? Son, I've seen cups of water burn people worse.

@Mr Allen J

Look at my sig, Allen.

Under the Red Sun

<Snipped quote by UrbanEvolution> Get back to me when you evolve into a being with better insults.

@Ink Blood

THESE BURNS ARE TOO SICK YO.

Under the Red Sun

We've officially had more conflict in the OOC than we have in the IC, gents. Congratulations! We are failures as fictional writers, but can hopefully remedy that with our curiously dramatic and complex character arcs in real life.

@He Who Walks Behind

Fuck. We're becoming Arena role-players.

Under the Red Sun

In that case I most sincerely apologise for my outburst, I just don'y like it when people do that 'AHAHAHAHA... NO.' Thing in real life and over-reacted, I won't wear my feels on my sleeve next time sorry brah xoxoxo

@Jonnyh447

I was just doing that in response to the notion that Owlsy would partake in any form of boinking. Joke for a joke. I'm sorry, man.

Under the Red Sun

Y'all need Jesus

@Fat Boy Kyle

If only that were an actual biblical figure of the Christian faith. I would start going to church again.

Under the Red Sun

Don't you folks start getting two-hundred percent mad at each other now. The story is not yet over, Ed-boys.

Under the Red Sun

I love being put down like that, don't know why just makes me all warm and fuzzy when someone's a right dick :) P.S - septic's already done that to me, you won't lose points for making up your own shit y'know?

@Jonnyh447

He's probably looking at you something like this right now.

Under the Red Sun

Lord of Owls

February 3, 1026 PW The division between me and Wesserius thins and thins daily. Only now as he lays waste to territories caught along his warpath to Maceron am I in a potential position to intercept him. Timing is the most important thing. If I am to execute any sort of operation against him directly then I must act without delay. At least for now, I have a direction. He is moving south. He will most likely pass through Talbor into Concordius, and then into Dorakis if he makes it that far. Come next nightfall, I will be making haste for Maceron. I must follow him. I must find him and make him talk. He is only my first target. I have much more to do in the near future. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Lord of Owls sets the quill aside and pauses for a moment before closing his leather-bound journal. He stands up, leaving it on the wooden desk. There is a small assortment of furniture in this cavern of his. As well, there are others around Tithe where he has once stationed himself. Some for days, some for weeks. He leaves nothing behind when he relocates, save for the furniture itself. In truth, he takes whatever he can carry from the encampments he infiltrates in the night. He should be moving now. But the light of the looming sun will not allow it. He turns towards Daronais, still seated and bound. It had been some hours since the interrogation. He grabbed the unconscious soldier’s jaw and propped his head up. His left eye where the crimson needle had laid its sting. Black, festering, stretching around his face. Halted now, but still quite a mark. The Lord of Owls takes his free hand and peels the eyelids open, revealing the swollen, milky-white mess underneath. The iris and the sclera have blended together. The pupil is gone, replaced with a puckered crevice where the needle once burrowed. Red stems creep from the back of the lids, reaching for the crevice. The whole thing – disgusting. Why all this? The mark must be made apparent. Identifiable. Known. It will stay with him until he departs from this mortal coil. It will undulate and writhe and fill his head with whispers of horrid things and unbecoming instances. It will drive him unto the brink of sanity and anchor him before the edge. A satisfactory effect. The Lord of Owls detaches his hands from the soldier’s face. He adjourns to a separate table, where many, many more needles lay. All of them are comprised of an ornate metal, with a grip carved into an ornate decoration. Some are unpainted. Others are red. The rest are black. The crimsons’ purpose are known, and the unpainted? Purely mundane. The darkened… those come later. He sifts through them, organizing them, placing them in piles and pouches. He occasionally glosses over at the archaic drawings and elaborations scattered about the desk, sitting by the lantern in the corner. There is too much work to do. But no one else will bear this mantle. Only him.

Under the Red Sun

@Leonerdo It makes me unusually and profoundly happy to have achieved such a nice response, maybe we can help eachother undress later?

@Jonnyh447

This is going in a weird direction.

Under the Red Sun

Well compared to everyone else, my grammar, spelling and punctuation sucks, and im probably the most inexperienced rper here and the worst if im honest, i just feel like im going to hold the rp back and hurt it with me roleplaying in it... :/

@The_written_John

No. That is not the right mindset to play this game. Or any game. Look at what you have now and what you can do. Think really, really hard how you can improve and perfect it. Do not be afraid to ask questions. We are not just role-playing here. We're telling a story.