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I have been writing as a hobby for longer than you have been alive. I have been a regular member and roleplayer of no less than fourteen different online forums during that time (including the old RPG), five six eight of which no longer exist.

I was previously a regular on the Homestuck forums, but I became so sick of thread turnover there that I asked around and eventually found the Guild. Since joining, I have exclusively only participated in Advanced RPs. Before Mahz gave NRPs their own subforum, I used to be an NRP regular in the Advanced Subforum. I am a Guildfall survivor, and know/regularly write with a few others.

If you ask anybody who has written with me in previous RPs, they should tell you that I have a generally open schedule, I post regularly and in a timely fashion, and I never drop an RP once I join unless the thread dies. Some of them may tell you that I have extensive expertise within the realms of Biology, Psychology, and Physics, which I will make no effort to validate since there is no way I can provide hard proof of aforementioned alleged expertise to anybody over the internet (though I am happy to try and answer any questions you send my way).

My favorite fandom is the Myst franchise, which seemingly nobody other than me has ever heard of.

I was a Contest Moderator for the Writing Contests Subforum for just a little bit over two years. I wrote the Moderation Policy for that subforum and I ran a contest called the Twelve Labours; you can still go there and see all of them and the entries people wrote for them in the Contests Section and the Victory Archives.

I have been quadruple secret banned from the guild discord. That is not a joke.

Most Recent Posts

@Terminal

Just so you know I really don't plan to try and kill every NPC we come across. I hope Donny isn't ruining the progression of the plot by being so insistently volatile towards strangers!

Not at all. I have a very open plan laid out for all of you, which is flexible as towards any actions taken. I will admit that it may take longer than predicted to reach Act 2, but all good things etcetera.
Congratulations to the authors of the following stories, for successfully surmounting the Challenge issued in The First Labour of Series II!

Many thanks to @mdk and the rest of the RPGC staff for helping to schedule The Twelve Labours, and thanks to @mahz and the forum moderators for making the contest possible.
Congratulations to the authors of the following stories, for successfully surmounting the Challenge issued in The First Labour of Series II!

Many thanks to @mdk and the rest of the RPGC staff for helping to schedule The Twelve Labours, and thanks to @mahz and the forum moderators for making the contest possible.
The First Labour

Series II


May I assume a successful landing, @Terminal?


I generously assumed that Amelie redirected you so that you would not fall on top of a pool of sprouting metal spines.

On that note: With two abstentions, two in favor, and one against, I am currently going to take the alternative approach for a test drive. You should see the consequences of it shortly.
Since the man could freely move his head from side to side, it was clear that he didn't have a proper plate to cover the gap between helm and breastplate; Even if he did, a solid blunt blow there might not be lethal but it would still be enough to cause breathing issues and hopefully knock the bastard flat on his back again so that he could follow up by placing a foot on his throat to hold him down on the ground.

Taking a closer look, Fortune saw that the armored crossbowman was in fact wearing a gorget - but was apparently fitted rather looser than was strictly advisable, probably expressly so the man could have a better range of vision. It still might have turned away a strike from Fortune's sword, but clearly it was not up to the task of cushioning the bandit's neck from Fortune's vicious knee blow. Already debilitated and in pain from the arrow partly lodged in their eye, the knight recoiled in shock and fell, much as Fortune had predicted he would. Fortune felt the other man's grasp on the exceedingly dangerous bolt slacken and let go; it was to be thanked that Fortune had the good sense to have kept both hands on his adversary's arm to prevent it from falling.

"What were they right about?" he asked with a calm voice as he removed the backpack from his back and opened it. "And why exactly did you and your friends attack the limousine? Didn't you like the colour?" While he certainly wanted an answer, he opted for the casual conversation approach and didn't give the man his undivided attention. Instead, he looked for some bandage and something to close the wound with. While the wound wasn't big, it was deep enough to need some stitches. He didn't need to remove the arrow to see that and he wouldn't remove it before he had everything he needed to treat the wound. Right now it was the arrow that kept the man from bleeding profusely.

"Tha sahd-tha sahd-" The thug's face and the neck of his plastic chainmail were both profusely slick with saliva, snot, and mucous dribbling from his every poor. The man's eyes were wide, but his gaze was distant, as though he was not even there on the street with Andreas. In the distance, the sound of a car's engine became audible as it approached the intersection.

"I wa big sent here just to suffer...Tha mad bets on it...tha did even cah 'bout us...or you." His eyes finally settled somewhat, narrowing and relaxing. The thug looked serenely at the morning sky as Andreas began to tend to his arrow-wound, his anxiety fading away. "Way does tha sun feel cold?" He whispered the question hoarsely. It was a fair question, given that the shade cast by the levitating sphere seemed to be warmer than the eerily cold light shining from the morning sun. The sound of the approaching car became louder.

He shuddered while curling into a ball, though. Were he to land, he intended first to see to the comrade with the spike through her backpack. She seemed rather poorly off.
Finally, she pushed herself up with her good hand and rose unsteadily to her feet. Dragging her backpack along the ground with her right hand, she winced and clutched her shoulder with her left, slowly turning to face the wreckage of the car. There was nothing left to see of the driver—whether he had been sliced to pieces or consumed by the molten metal, she knew not. What she did do, however, was take a moment to acknowledge the dead, and to look over the status of the car.

Ariett turned back to what remained of the limousine just in time to see the last vestiges of the crumpled windshield frame and hood adorn a brilliant silver finish, countless shards of shattered glass now transmuted to brilliant metallic chips and slivers, all glimmering in the sunlight. The reflected light flared in her eyes - but she felt nothing, as though the immense glare had no substance to it. The very reflex to flinch or veer her gaze away from the source failed to manifest.

She felt cold. The light felt cold.

As she focused her gaze just through the shattered windshield, she could suddenly see the completely plated corpse of the chauffeur, the grisly anatomy of his disintegrated cranium preserved in perfect detail, down to every nook and cranny. Every curve and nuance of each clump and string of gristle was immaculately cast. Was that a cogwheel where the atlas of his spine should have been? She vaguely registered the arrival of another vehicle on the scene just as Luca fell to the ground from the air, Amelie's redirection orb having successfully intercepted him and turned his path earth-bound more. With his body tucked into a ball, he hit the ground at a roll - thankfully away from any of the thorned patches of metal sprouting from the cobblestone street.

@Bright_Ops

Slowing down and pulling up alongside the curb to its left where Donny and Kael were standing was a brass-colored Rolls-Rocye phantom with completely opaque windows. A hood ornament mounted near the front depicted an imperiously rearing Unicorn wearing a crown - a symbol which Fortune would immediately recognize as the crest of Lord Aldric, identical to the wax seal accompanying the letter he had received prior to coming to New Nemea. The driver's window rolled open and a thin-faced man wearing a gray suit and hat peered out, squinting at them all before turning his head to look at the ruinous scene. He took it all in and shook his head in disbelief.

"They're all here. Looks like everyone made it, but we'll need some solvent. There are two..." The suited man glanced with a raised eyebrow between Kael and Amelie. "...make that four stragglers."

The rear left-hand door audibly unlocked and began to swing open at the same time as the sound of the car doors on the phantom's right side could be heard opening. The thug Andreas was tending to looked at the Rolls Royce and the opening doors wearing a dumb-founded expression, his eyes widening again in terror.

"Ya sent to suffer too." His voice was cracked and dry, but clearly audible. Who he was addressing was unclear. In the distance further along the various streets along the intersections, a few hazy individuals could be seen returning into the open - looking down at the scene of the ambush.
@Terminal ... Holding them in until the moment they're as most inconvenient sounds fun. XD

Edit: ... Ah, um. Let me save your life, there, Luca... How high up is he?


Perhaps three meters.
@Bright_Ops,@mdk congratulations are in order. Fortune just saved Luca's life. If Bright_Ops had not posted in time, Luca would have been turned into a lawn ornament.

Also, congratulations to @Doc Doctor, who just - perhaps somewhat inadvertently - discovered the very first clue of the Final Hazard.

Also, time for a vote. @Bright_Ops@Cruallassar@Doc Doctor@Holmishire@mdk@PlatinumSkink@WiseDragonGirl

Shall I continue to reproduce errors en-mass as I have been?

Or, alternatively: Should I just hold every error you make in reserve, and tactically deploy them whenever I personally see fit in order to obfuscate the narrative and create ambiguity where it is most inconvenient? The rule-of-two would still be in effect.
He was going to lose this tug-of-war, but as his opponent yelled a threat in his face, Luca realized he had an alternative to winning. He squirmed until the knight raised up for another blow to the face, then pulled with all his strength, hard enough to entice the knight into doing the same. Then, abruptly, Luca released his grip. The knight lost balance and tumbled backwards, with the device clutched in one flailing hand. Luca immediately scrambled up and lunged for the knight, who now lay on his back, stunned for just the briefest of instants. Luca reached out and grabbed at the arrow -- but not the one he had been wrestling for. Instead, he reached towards the arrow lodged in the knight's visor. He meant to drive it down with the full force of his body.
Watching as the man whom had been wrestling with the knight to prevent that enchanted arrow of his from touching the ground took a punch to the face before pouncing on the knight to attempt to drive the arrow in his visor deeper in order to end him, Fortune took a moment to drop his sword to free up his hands so that he could grasp the now freed up arm holding the arrow in order to keep it away from the ground itself, but also to prevent the struggling coward of a knight from stabbing it into the side of the one trying to finish him.

Luca grasped the wooden arrow-shafts and drove it down - only for the shafts to snap in half. Looking at the helmets, Luca saw that the arrow's heads was jammed up against the lips of the visors. The arrows had appeared of to have been set in by gouging the visors, but by looking more closely revealed it was the other way around. The lips of the helmet visors of had gouged the metal of the arrows, of which was transfixed in place by the visor's lips biting by into it. When Luva had driven it down, the metal of the arrows' heads had twisted and of become a bit freer - but not enough to protrude further before the shafts had snapped.

Letting out a pained roar, the knights lay his left arms across Luca's chests and bodily hurled the ticking boys away. Luca found himself in the air - and flying. Up. He was slowing down, but his movement through the air was more of a vectors rather than of a trajectories. Whether this had something to do with the disturbances he felt or was something the knights had done remained to be seen, but to of more immediate concern was of that he appeared to be on a direct collision course with to the ominously humming, levitating spheres above the streets.

Settling his left hands on the ground, the crossbow knights started to get back up onto his feets while bracing his right arms up, tugging mightily against Fortune's grasp. The dynamics of the struggles were of perilously curious, with the surging and ebbing weight of their body and of strength as gravity came and went.

The knight was doing a good job of keeping the enemy busy, along with that Luca kid. Yeah, Luca, the one who suffered from severe priapism.

He wasn't taking a break, no. He was figuring things out. There was some trick being played on them, one that crapped on reality. Warm twines of smoke braided peaceably before Donny's eye as he puzzled over everything they had gone through.


"Come on," he said to the man as he moved to grab him under the shoulders so he could drag him away. "Hold your leg, I'll get you away from here and have a look at it." The last thing he wanted was to stay close to the struggle and on a road. This man could be moved, so he had to move him to a safer location for the both of them.

The men continued to wail, his faces covered into sweat and snot as he allowed himself to be hauled up and dragged to closer to the sidewalks. As Andreas touched the thugs' tattered chainmail, he noted that it felt nothing like actual metal - if anything, it reminded him of plastic by touch. It also wasn't making any of the distinctive metallic of clinking noise expected of chainmail, instead making a very soft clattering noise - like of domino falling against each other.

His attention was drawn back to the thugs when he began to howling something resembling intelligible word.

"They wa righ!" He sobbed pitifully as he hobbled along with Andreas, practically falling down all over again with every shuddering half-steps. "They wa righ!" Behind the two, a light trails of blood was forming of in a sinuous lines - before the sanguine materials began to rise and drift to through the air, floating every-which-way like a gaseous vapors.

She glanced behind her and saw the car explode in a multitude of metallic spears. Pulling her heavy backpack up so that it would cover the back of her torso and head both, Ariett dived forward. She hit the ground hard, taking the blunt of the force on her elbows and forearm as she skid forward a few feet.

Ariett felt the kinetic force of the silvery spines that stabbed straight of through the backpacks' right strap and brushed up and over her shoulders as she fell. The pain was both immediate and exquisite, as though a branding irons had been pressed to her flesh. The back of her right shoulders was coated of in a layer of shining of metal that instantly hardened - but, thankfully, spread no more than a an inch before stopping. The pain subsided to a smoldering, heavy anguish as to the surrounding and underlying dermal tissue died while muscle and nerve began crying out, trying to move skin affixed to unmoving metal. The backpacks had likewise sustained similar damage, its severed right straps being fully coated in metal along both of its lengths, which had of also thankfully stopped spreading.
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