Syben

The Dust: Begin Again

@RedDusk I think it's fine–more than fine. It is very worthy, and has me interested to know more. You hath delivered well.

The Dust: Begin Again

@Lightning Fast & @Monochromatic Rainbow *dies of laughter* Just finished reading the IC. Oh. My. Talos.

The Dust: Begin Again

@RedDusk You must prove your worth by being the strongest and most cunning of course! Everything goes.

The Dust: Begin Again

@Blubaron45 You are welcome to join me. (Keep Reading)

Greeting and Salutations to those new and old. I am Aeon (the glorious) the creator and proprietor of Dust. Whereas Darcs and Mono, as it stands currently, are your two wonderful GM's, I am more of a spiritual guide. I understand my vision, but they may have their own. I'm currently in the process of being brought up to speed, but I am not here to assume control of Dust. I think they are doing a fine job, and whereas I will have a hand in the happenings, I am not here to reinstate myself as overlord GM of Dust.

So, onto the roleplay then. I have my character up, same as ever. She will be heading a faction called "The Seditio", a viking style social class group composed of only Immortals (planning to be numbered between 30-70 Immortals tops, though not set on anything specific quite yet.) Any and All are welcome, and if interested in a certain social position, whether it be Shaman, Advisor, Right or Left Hands, a Leg, A Jarl, A Karl (kaaaaaaarrrrrrrl, you can't do that kaaarl), or etc. Just PM me, there's always something. Though probably not Shaman, maybe a spiritual advisor hehe. Concerning the time skip, Isolone would have remained mostly quiet, excluding the few trade caravans every now again for supplies as the town is rebuild.

Current standing the town is moderate, functional, and defensible. There will be a description of the faction and the town soon-ish, and will be making a play at something soon.

Always Lurking.
-Aeon

P.s (edit) The Seditio were born from normals discreminating against Immortals.

The Dust: Begin Again

Name: Alexandria Svet-Yulia
Aliases: Konung ("King") of the Seditio, The White-eyed Demon, The Red Bitch (derogatory).
Age: 21
Appeared Age: Early Twenties
Height: 5'2
Weight: 115lbs est.
Eye Color: Completely White
Hair Color: Platinum White
Physical Identifiers:

• Two parallel scars encircling her neck, about 2 ¹/₂ inches in width.
• Multiple scars crisscrossing her back, varying between 1-2 inches in width.

Appearance: Alexandria isn't the kind of girl one would usually look twice at; unless concerned about her overall general size. A petite oval face, framed by long and haphazardly placed platinum white hair giving her kind of an eccentric look about her as she always hides her eyes behind goggles. Goggles that are usually reflective, or host to a one-way lens, which sit atop a proportionate bulb nose. Small, pert lips which are often set in a pressed line of determination, or puckered, and slightly askew in concentration.

Alexandria, herself, doesn't figure she's very attractive; despite having an average bust; the rest of her completes the picture of her miniatureness which narrow hips, a slender frame, and an almost non existent rump. Though there is evidence of some toned muscle wrapped about her body, she is hardly the picture of the ferocity that lies behind her goggles. She is apt at seeming menacing when she needs to be as of late, and has a shadowy, harder look about her when she does so.

Background

Residence: The village of Isolone.
Profession: Konung ("King") of the Seditio
Aligned Faction: Neutral (Unfavorable towards Standards, aka non-Immortals.)
Relatives: Unknown

Backstory

Life for Alexandria was a hard one, but that's nothing special here in the wasteland. Everybody's life is hard. Yet, these experiences, as tragic as they may or may not be, helped mold her into the rabid little creature she is today. Ironically, she was often referred to as charged and ready to explode at any moment, though this irony is only in hindsight. Let's start at the beginning.

2361A.F, a baby girl was born to the coupling of a man from old world, Russian descent, and a mixed race wife. They named her Alexandria Svet-Yulia, the combined last names of both of her parents, though Yulia translates into "Young", her mother's last name. Matvei Svet-Mikah, her father, finally settled down with his wife Grace Young, where he would lead the dangerous life of a scavenger. Where best to do this? The bustling, crowded, Russel City, where any man could make a life for himself. He spent long weeks in the wastes, fighting innumerable dangers so that his wife and child could have a life, relatively free from the dangers of the desert. Though there were many times where Grace fought off those less fortunate, rather savagely and desperately. The kind of parents that would do anything to protect the only ray of hope for them, Alexandria.

It was a quiet evening, six years later, when night was just beginning to fall, casting it's shadowed blanket across the lands, when Matvei returned home after a long and prosperous week of scavenging. Imagine the look beneath his covered face, behind his protected eyes, when he stumbled upon a trap door half buried in some sandy ruins, a treasure trove of old world junk. He was an adapt haggler, and would be able to turn a mighty profit so that his wife and child could have the necessary things in life, and more. It was a relatively simple plan, loot the ruins, try not to die, make money; happy wife happy life. And Oh! How he longed to see his baby girl's face, unblemished by the scorching sands of Dust, unmarred by the howling winds. Matvei nearly dropped dead in the doorway.

The large apartment was turned upside down. Both bedroom's ransacked, the furniture smashed. Even kitchen, as expected, had been looted for everything that could be carried, even the handful of baby toys Matvei had acquired. He stumbled through the wreckage of the living area, shreds of clothing littering broken furniture. He recognized it, a nice dress he had bought for his wife. She must have been waiting for him, he did say he would return on this day. He shook his head, half in horror, half in disbelief. She would have heard the knock, only to run to the door and throw it open in expected delight of her husband. He knelt down, picking up a long shred of cloth, covered with blood. He did not think, he did not feel, the only thing the coursed through his veins was electrifying vengeance.

He had already expected this, but the sorrow still pierced through his heart. In the far corner of the living room was the playpen he had constructed for his six year old daughter. The pen was empty, but Matvei's heart turned even darker. There was no blood on the playpen, but there was a trail of it leading towards the bathroom facilities. He was half tempted to turn and walk out, his wife did not deserve this, he felt he would shame her spirit by going any further. He should just leave, he already knew, she wouldn't want him to see her decomposing. But he had to know. He had to be sure.

Her broken body lay upon the tile which was smeared with an expanding pool of blood. She was undressed, multiple lacerations covering her body. It was obvious what had been done to her previous, before whomever did this slit her throat and left her to die, covered in a ragged scarlet dress of her own blood. He wept softly, a man as hard as he, but he could not restraint himself. Everything had been taken from him in an instant, he should have come home a day earlier. He should have barred the doors, should have warned Grace about the dangers of society. He should of done this, should of done that, but his eye caught something as he turned away from the shameful scene of his wife's body. A small slip of blood covered paper.

A receipt. Rage once again boiled inside of him. He looked at his wife's body in shock. He rolled her over violently, turning her broken neck, looking for- There, he found it. Two small holes on the neck, the marks of a drug addict. The receipt had a name on it, belonging to a very unfortunate person.

It was months later when Max McClaire awoke in a dark room he did not recognize. The winds howled outside, and old world junk was piled in nearly every corner of the room. He moved to stand, and his breath caught, he was tied to the chair. Suddenly the blinding light in his face was very evident, the throbbing from his skull, and the large imposing shadow standing before him. That's right, he had been at a meeting, a deal about to happen. Somebody wanted a supply of his stock, which was expected, his new drug was all the rage; benefits of being a homemade chemist. The man stepped forward, he could have easily been over six foot tall. "Where is my daughter?" He asked.

The screams were but a complimentary shriek to the howling winds.

Six more years pass, and we come back to Alexandria. A young child still, about to reach her early teens. The night her mother was molested and killed had replayed in her mind, haunting images plagued her dreams, for the past six years. She had been drugged and hauled across the desert wastes to an unfamiliar place. For days the terrain rolled by, endless expanses of shimmering flat earth, of sandy drifts and dunes, of hard rocky terrain littered with boulders. They walked the whole way there, her captors large and imposing, she has still been but a toddler, and they walked her until her shoeless feet bled and she could walk no more. Sometimes they would carry her, slung over their shoulder and held by her ankles, like freshly killed game. Other times she was dragged until she got up, and walked again.

She wasn't taken to any city of Dust, though she did not know that at the time, but rather a camp. A camp full of dirty, vicious people. There were others like her there, most of them were older, but they helped her. Guided her so that she would feel the lash of their whips less often, so that she wouldn't be thrown down and beaten in the dirt like an animal. Taught to keep her head low and her eyes down so she would be picked less often for their lustful urges, which often came with a beating or a lashing anyways. Though they were careful not to permanently scar her flesh, but for reasons unbeknownst to her.

She became used to pain there, as she grew up at the hands of her masters. Sometimes they went out and would bring her new friends to play with, to teach as she had been taught. She would see her misery reflected in their eyes, her pain echoed in their wails of agony. Their shame, after being hauled off to one of the barracks. Bad slaves were kept outside in a pen, with just enough water to fight over to stave off dehydration. Good slaves were assigned as personal servants, under the protection of their master, to follow their will above all. Alexandria was a good slave, he had been in service for a year now, to a woman named Sula, whose tastes fell more along the feminine side of the coin.

Four more years pass. Alexandria is sixteen now, and she is one of the very best slaves. Her masters are proud of her, she learns very quickly, she is humble and reclusive. Her masters hardly even notice her presence when she's around, replacing empty platters of food or refilling drink, as quickly and silently as an apparition. She hasn't been punished in months, and her master are so very proud of her. She no longer cries when they pick her to end a night of drunken stupor with that of lust. She no longer fights, no longer resists, no longer has any will, for they are masters of their trade. She is almost ready to sell now, Greya spoke to her, often times in the bed, of how much she will miss her little Alexia. Alexandria is a good slave, and told her master how much she will miss her, her beauty, her wisdom, and other pleasantries. Her master would smile, sometimes she would be gentle, but Greya was a rough and callous person, and it often showed on Alexandria's body; bruises, superficial cuts, burns that would later be applied a poultice to keep from scarring. But Alexandria was a good slave, and she enjoyed what her master enjoyed.

It was merely days before the auction, Alexandria was laying breathless with her Master. She had been a good slave, she had pleased her Master well, and was to receive a gift later, something to remember her Master by. Soon she was dressed and following as Greya's shadow. The envy of other slaves male and female, the pride of her masters. She was passed around for service to many others who would miss her, but there was much talk of how much profit they could bring in. No matter how much they fancied her servitude, her company, or her body, they were still going to sell her to another Master, she would have to leave the only home she had ever known, or could remember. She was scared, but Greya comforted her, because her little Alexia was such a good, well behaved slave.

The night before the auction Greya summoned Alexandria. She was so pleased with her little Alexia, told her what a good slave she was, and even though her Alexia had come down with a cold, she hid the fact well, and Greya was so very proud of her good little slave. She held a bauble out in her hand, a small globe set upon an old and rusted base. Greya shook it and little snowflakes danced around a tiny figurine of a female woman, who appeared to be wearing odd shoes with blades beneath. Greya told her this was a snowglobe, and the figure in the middle was an ice skater. Alexandria tried to refuse modestly, slaves were not allowed to have possessions other than what they were given to wear. Greya gave her the look the meant she was about to be struck out of anger, and Alexandria did not want that. She was a good slave after all.

The bauble was heavy in her hands, and she shook it with delight. A smile crept across her face, showing her real joy. It was a beautiful trinket, and her delight made Greya smile. Greya moved close, pulling Alexandria close to her body, when an alarm was raised. Greya cursed and order Alexandria to stay put, that she would be back in a moment to see that smile again. Alexandria was a good slave, but a clever one too. She leaned out of the tent to see a brawl happening in the streets. A large man was striding through the streets, covered head to toe in a thick iron armor, welded together. He held a massive sword and was cutting a swathe through her Masters as bullets ricocheted off his armor. A gathering of men were following behind him, shining stars reflecting off of the breast of their shirts.

The battle raged on, tents burst into flames and people on both sides were dying left and right. Slaves cowered in the pens as stray bullets whizzed past them, some of them injured, some of them killed instantly. The large iron man in the midst of the battle finally caught sight of her. He strode towards her, his massive sword cutting through her masters. It was then that Greya appeared before him, only to be struck down by the flat of his blade. Alexandria's throat caught, Greya was about to be killed, her master was about to die.

A mantra repeated itself in her head, as the snowglobe fell from her hands; "I'm a good slave. A good slave. A good slave. A good girl. I'm a good girl. Good girl... Good girl...I'm a.."

The man paused as she ran towards him, her bare feet moving across the dirt with speed. Slaves were not allowed to run unless ordered. "But I'm a good slave." Slaves were not allowed to disobey their masters. "But I'm a good slave." Slaves were not allowed to pick up a weapon. "But I'm a good slave." And most importantly, slaves were never permitted to kill. "But I'm a good slave."

Blood streamed from beneath the man's massive helmet, a sparse column of smoke drifting from the eye hold where Alexandria had pressed the barrel of a gun. His arms were halfway around her, about to crush the life from her body, but the bullet impact in his brain as seized his body, so that he could not squeeze the life from her. "I'm a good slave," she repeated, as the man fell to the ground. The battle ended soon after, with Alexandria protecting Greya's unconscious body.

But Greya's little Alexia was such a bad slave. Upon discovery of the bauble, and a retelling of the acts Alexandria had committed, Greya's rage was near infinite. The last of the whip brought Alexandria to tears, as it ripped through her pale flesh. They had bound her naked to the whipping post. They could not sell such a bad slave as her. The whip cracked across her body again, splattering Alexia's blood on the hard packed earth. She wept and screamed as Greya cracked the whip over again, and again. Greya would have to buy her now, nobody would want to buy such a bad slave. The whip cracked, blood spraying from her back in a fine mist. Alexandria fell to the ground, every lash a searing cut with the hottest of blades, as if the very sun itself were cutting into her body.

Another crack, and another. Alexandria's vision wavered, but they had given her some form of herb, to give her energy, to keep her from falling unconscious. They wanted to to feel every lash, so she would know what a bad slave she was. Another lash, but Alexandria was already hoarse from screaming, nothing but a ragged whisper coming out. There was a pause, some water so that she could scream once more, more of the herb. But she could receive no more lashes, there was nowhere unmarred on her back to whip anymore. Instead of risking killing her Greya approached her holding something in her hand. She cut Alexandria's bonds, throwing her into the dirt, the hot earth pressing into her wounds, causing more screams and more tears. Greya pressed her boot against Alexandria's stomach, pressing down until she was sure she would break.

"I wouldn't want my little worm to wiggle away," Greya sneered, taking the odd metal baton she had been holding and pressing it into Alexandria's chest, right in the center between the upper portion of her breasts, the center of her collarbone.

Whatever this was had been new, fire spread throughout Alexandria's body, causing her to involuntarily seize up and spasm. Her screams caught in her throat, coming out only as a weak gurgle. Greya paused, but the burning sensation still remained in her body, causing her to twitch and spasm in pain. She pressed the rod again to the same area, Alexandria's flesh smoking from the point of impact. Again she body tensed up, the fire coursing across her flesh, her weak gurgling, the spasms, the pain.

And then it had stopped. The pain was no longer there, but Greya was still pressing the rod against her smoldering flesh. Greya looked slightly confused as Alexandria's body relaxed. She adjusted a dial on the rod and the tip of it glowed brightly, attempting to increase the intensity. A new pain erupted from Alexandria's chest, the rod was burning through her flesh, and that she did feel. A tingling sensation ran across her body, and white hot lightning erupted from her hands. The impact sent Greya sprawling a few yards away, her body twitching. Alexandria stood weakly, the sun burning her naked flesh, her wounds throbbing. But she felt alive, for the first time she felt capable. The life returned to her soul, and rage filled her eyes.

A day later the camp was found, though it was more of a smoldering ruin by now, burned to the ground. No a soul remained alive, and it was reported there were no survivors. Except for the small teen stumbling across the wastes, heading nowhere in particular, with plenty of supplies, and proper attire.

Some time later, she gave up the scavenging life and went through a spiritual exodus almost. Finding purpose, and bringing that dream to reality, she is now the founder and leader of the Seditio.

Gear

Weapons:

• Twin 9mm Pistols: Alexandria has come across a number of weapons in her travels, her 9mm pistol are the only ones she ever kept for personal use.
• Twin Tactical Daggers: Alexandria carries two twin daggers, with 17 inch blades, and 7 in handles. These daggers can attach at the hilt, which will extend out slightly when done so, to become a 5 ¹/₂ foot double ended sword staff.

Armor

Externally Alexandria wears leather bracers and knee pads, underneath her scarlet cloak however she is quite conservative, only wearing plain clothes. Though between the two layers of scarlet fabric a very thin piece of leather is sown in, providing protection from thorns and spurs.

Ammunition:

• Dirty Rounds: 50: contained in five, 10 bullet clips.
• High Grade Rounds: 20: contained in two, 10 bullet clips.
• Heavy Ammunition: N/A

Hiking Backpack:

• Medkit, Rope, Spare clothes and footwear, Sewing Kit, Water supply, Food, Burglary Kit, Small toolkit, Expandible crowbar, Spare shoelaces, Tape, Spare goggles, Flashlight, Fire starter, Water purifying tablets, Sunscreen, Waterproof bags, Thermal blanket, Sleeping bag, Pan, Utensils, Binoculars, Tarp.

Belt Pouches:

• Ammunition, Pistol, Canteen, Headlamp, Compass, Map, Fire starter, Matches, Lighter.

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Electricity And Lightning
Unique Abilities:

• Battery: Alexandria's affinity for electricity has made her something of a living battery, meaning she can store electricity within herself by feeding off of pre existing electrical currents.
• Dispersion: For a short period Alexandria can turn specific locations of her body, like a hand, into static electrical form, allowing her to manipulate electronics. This can also be performed on small, conductive items allowing Alexandria to move them as energy, rather than mass. This can only be performed by touching the object.
• White Lightning: When Alex is in a considerable emotional state, her lightning will become "white hot", increasing in both temperature and force. However, she cannot normally do this.

Strengths:

• Oo' Shiny: Alexandria was quite a good scavenger, able to make a living off of what she found. Despite giving that up, the skills remain and she has developed a keen eye for useful items in piles of junk, and is quite creative when repurposing the intended use of things.
• Agility: Years of scavenging and running, have honed Alexandria's body to the point of being able to reach higher than average speeds and maintain them longer. This also allows her to perform acrobatic activities with relative ease; such as parkour.
• Force of a Whip: Alex may not been strong, but she is honed like a strong, fine blade. Where she could never likely physically throw another person, she can lash out like a whip and obtain a decent amount of force due to her corded, whip like muscle structure. Where she is not raw strength, she is speed, and focus, and even a wagon could kill you if it went fast enough.

Weaknesses:

• Conduit: Alexandria is a living electrical node, contact with water will begin to short circuit her and disperse any electrical energy she has into the water. This causes an arcing effect when caught in the rain.
• Conductivity: Anything that isn't metal is nearly non-conductive meaning her power is ineffective against such surfaces, or armors. This excludes the heat x impact factor of her power.
• ..Like A Rollercoaster Baby: Alex by no means, is emotionally stable. She's not stronger to emotional and nervous breakdowns, bouts of anger bordering on the extreme, and other such dysfunctions in her chemical process. Despite knowing this, and trying to work on it, she is as likely to stay calm as a bomb shop on fire in a crowded area, even if it's a small and controlled outburst.
• Who You Gunna Call?: Alex has led some kind of life, as most people have, unfortunately she tends to be one of those people who can't banish her ghosts. She feels the heavy, overbearing weight of the important people in her life haunting her, their death always plaguing her, relentlessly. Even those who abused her still haunt her, and somehow her brain finds a way to incorporate some kind of guilt into that too. These ghosts and bad experiences have been known to send her into a highly unstable emotional state, though she usually isolates herself if she can.
• Tick, Tick, Boom: Primal Rage is an influence from her Spark, Aeshma, and when she topples over the edge of anger there's nigh little that can be done to stop her, even in an out matched fight. She will fight tooth and nail and spit at this point, and is more than likely to awaken as there is little she can do to resist Aeshma's presence forcing its way forward. Unfortunately, they don't call Aesham "The Hunter" for nothing, and he plays with his food.
• Manipulator: Alexandria cannot manifest electricity or lightning, and can only use that which is available to her.

---

Awakened State

Spark Name: Aeshma "The Hunter"

Innate Awakened Abilities:

• Armor of the Spark: Every spark surrounds their host in a black, chitin like shell, or armor. Their host resides within the armor, typically in the fetal position as they do not control their armored state through direct physical movement. Rather, the spark intercepts the neural commands for movement, and manipulates the armor that way. The spark or the host may be in control, but not both. If a spark is only partially awakened, the host will be stuck in whatever partial state they enter, until they are able to fully awaken. Only then may they revert back to their normal self at will. Additionally, heavy damage to the armor will cause it to break and fall off, reverting back to the normal state of the host.
• Voice of the Spark: Once awakened, the host and the spark may converse mentally. The Spark can share its knowledge, though since the phenomena is not innate to the spark itself, it can only give ideas and tips for power useage; The spark cannot teach its host mastery over their abilities. The spark can retain memories gathered from their host, recalling things they forget, or even noticing things the host themselves failed to, but only through the host's eyes. Many sparks may know each other, and may recognize other awakened forms. The awakened armor is unique to the spark, which is how sparks may recognize each other, even if the differences between two armor sets are very subtle.

Additional Abilities:

• Heavy Draw: Aeshma can detect and draw electricity to himself. He can do this with a very large current of energy from nearly a mile away. The smaller the electrical current, the closer he has to be. This ability maxes out at just under a mile, no matter the potential strength of the electricity he detects.
• Full Dispersion: Aeshma's awakened state gives Alex the power to become flash of lightning for about two seconds, but letting her move incredibly fast. This allows her to pass through her foes and electrocute them as if struck by actual lightning, and to travel along a conductive surface. This is a powerful ability, and its use is quite infrequent.

Additional Strengths:

• I Can Smell Your Fear: Aeshma is a primal hunter. He has a great sense of tracking, akin to a predatory animal. It's very difficult for somebody to escape him by simply fleeing or hiding.
• Faster Than A Speeding..: Aeshma is not a creature of strength, or of great endurance, but swiftness and precision. What he lacks in physical prowess, he makes up for quick reflexes and speed. Along with his instincts and razor sharp claws, he makes an incredibly deadly foe.

.
Additional Weaknesses:

• Time Bomb: The more power that Aeshma uses, the more he charges the atmosphere around him. Negative and Positive Ions separate as a result of the static charge he gives off from using his power, causing dust to rise into the air. Over a short period of time the dust will gather and draw moisture, forming rainclouds. This effect can only occur outside.
• Do Not Operate When Wet: Contact with water will short circuit Aeshma's stored power. Continuous contact will drain him until the Awakened State dissipates completely, removing Aeshma from control and leaving Alex with no power.
• I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore: As of yet, Alex and Aeshma both have very little control over the Awakened state. They may be able to retain full functionality for a time, but fighting the Primal Hunger is a battle quickly lost. It is a feeling, a desire, a need, that overrides whatever priority present and will send them into a bloody frenzy. It is theorized that saying this hunger will give them back control of the Awakened state, but alas that is merely an unproven hypothesis. The Primal Hunger does not differentiate between friend, foe, innocents, or even children. Nobody is safe, so hide yo' kids and hide yo' wife.

The Dust: Relaunch

Was thinking about it, definately. Not sure what I'm gonna do yet, and finding a job may suck up all of my free time.

The Dust: Relaunch

Surprise.

Life... is good. Since I've been away I just want to say I'm really impressed with the both of you, Mono and Darcs. I'm not here to take control away, as my life is still somewhat unstable and very busy, but it's much better. I recently just did a 27 hour drive from Arizona to Washington. Going through Cali was a drag, it looked like Arizona but with the cactus photoshopped out. Driving through Oregon and hunkering down in my car for the night near the border, after about 18 hours of driving, was beautiful. I slept next to a river, and listened to nature. The whole drive itself was very... spiritual. Washington is flat gorgeous, I live in Port Orchard now. I had somewhat of a falling out with my mother, and long story short, I consider myself an Orphan now, but in good humor. I mean, she can go do unspeakable things to herself, but I'm cool as a cucumber. Leaving behind Arizona removed most of the major problems with my life, the only real persistent one is wondering if I can overdose on Pizza, so delicious.

So, roleplay wise, I am 'around'. I'm not in a position, or a mind set to become overlord of the multiverse, but I am glad to see this still trudging on. I don't quite have the capacity to fully manage something of this responsibility. I'm up here in Washington, currently job hunting, and plan to work as much as humanly possibly. On top of that my bestie (whom I live with) has two kids and a hubby to worry about, so I've been helping out with errands, cooking, cleaning, the works. But I am 'around', for whatever is needed. Just to restate, I am happy to see my idea roleplay still lumbering on.

Anyways, I may consider the possibility of joining as a player, but I'll think more on that. Not sure how much of my time lies where, or how active I can/will be.

Always Watching~
-Aeon.

-Edit: I may start up writing a solo story, and just post chapters on the guild.

The Dust: Relaunch

You have my full permission to kill Alex, but you must make it glorious, and painful.

I will still be around, here and there. I'm not quite sure what direction my life is heading at the moment. I'm going in for a mental health evaluation friday, so I'm just taking it a day at a time. I appreciate everybody's understanding, and someday I hope to return-- as a player.

But for now, day by day, hour by hour.

The Dust: Relaunch

The Whole RP. Not just because of lack of activity, because that is certainly a problem. But also because of my life, I've been working, a lot. There's talk of making me a key holder (manager) at work, which means 10+ hours a day, five days a week. Right now I'm only doing about 25-30 hours, but I have very little time to come here and goad and push people to post and get things done, I have hardly any time to write any lore, and my timeframe is the exact opposite of those who want to collab with me. On top of my outside life duties, like helping my best friend pay a phone bill, or the friend that can't pay a traffic ticket and is likely to go to jail and really just wants to kill herself, and a whole shitstorm of drama I'm helping said friends sort through before they do anything rash or drastic because believe me, I know depression, I struggle with it myself. Which is another thing.

There's very little time in my day left to be on my computer, and I may just take up to freely writing a story on my own time instead of trying to GM a world and a crew and try to keep order and regulation, that nobody is following anyways despite the amount of effort and love I have put into this. I haven't been gone for these past couple of weeks, I've been here, reading and watching, just lurking, gauging the activity of our little community. Though highly disappointing, I feel with enough time and dedication, it could be resolved, or a better system worked out, but I no longer have that privilege of time.

Lately the only way to fight my crippling depression is to get out of this house; out of the stifling loneliness of my room; out of the frustrating reach of my mother; or the incredibly fed-up disappointment of an older brother I have. It's come to the point in my life where I can no longer be alone for too long, and unfortunately you guys are going to get the raw-end of this predicament. I have, however given it a lot of thought and consideration. So let me be clear–

I am stepping down from Dust, for the many reasons I have stated above. It is something I have to do to better myself, to retain my mental health and stability, and my drastic decrease in freetime. This was not a brash decision brought on by some melancholic thought. Yet, it would be a shame to see such a thing go to waste. Therefore, I will like to offer spiritual leadership of The Dust to either @Darcs or @Monochromatic Rainbow, should either of them wish to manage it. Otherwise, I do not feel anybody else is quite capable of continuing this roleplay. If the passing of the baton is accepted, I will pass along all information. Should you wish to hear the many ideas and explanations I have for things, I will do my best to pass along those thoughts too when I have the time, or simply start a new, breed your own ideas and thoughts and workings.

Thank you all for such a fun run, You have my sincerest apologies that my life has gotten in the way of our writing outlet. There are just other things that I must do.

The Dust: Relaunch

@Darcs No. I have been lurking, watching, waiting. I see no hope for this.