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15 hrs ago
Current Spoil the infinity wars for me... And I swear I will kill half of all life in the universe.
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1 day ago
youtube.com/watch?v=sjWPXyb… <- This is all you need for classical music puns.
1 like
2 days ago
A sous chef is either the chef directly under the head chef in the hierarchy or the chef who specializes in sous-vide
2 likes
8 days ago
A Raven is like a Writing Desk because you can use both to Literally Murder someone.
4 likes
9 days ago
Cult Leader? Take your standard "Intro to Culting" pack on the left, take your basic starter cultist robes on the right, seminar on how to "Shepard your flock" starts in 30.
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@Father Hank

Any preference to character archetypes?

I have the penchant to play a flamboyant foppish Breton Imperial Courtesean / Illusionist.
Over the top and grandiose, but a pretty damn good mage who messes with your mind.
Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: The Monster Mash! Tower, 3rd floor.
Interacting with: Magic!


Now it was Thomas' turn to be out of it. His attack on the necromancer was successful, although perhaps only provided to anger the stranger more. Maybe it was the after-effect of the spell, or maybe Thomas needed glasses, but the boy swore there were more enemies now than before. More angry-looking furry things and scaly bothers. Oh and a creepy-crawly. If they were not fighting for their lives, Thomas would be impressed at the summoning abilities the dark lord had. There was perhaps an ounce of respect for the man's capacity to summon an endless array of minions. How much more though? Didn't all magic have an innate drawback? There was after all the universal law of reciprocal resource reconciliation which basically stated magic was not free, and there was a cost to using magic one that is usually equal in magnitude to the spell being cast. Summoning and controlling all these creatures for example... Unless... Was that a summoner's circle?

The glowing ward faded from around the figure and his pet centipede, the one closer to whatever we decided to call the man, and not the one near Thomas's left flank. And with the fading of the celestial light, Thomas' dizziness was shaken off to adequately access the new hell just raised. It wasn't a dream after all, but a nightmare. All things unleashed, fiendish fur and sinister scales, a new wave of enemies to be fought for a team that was already just threading the deep waters. To his left just behind his shoulder the sounds of a bear combating with a centipede, to his left, a threesome of Keystone and Sana and the rather Grey Gray Render. And by the looks of it, the gruesome Mr. Gray, was having his way, with the Greying lady. Not Good, They were in a tight squeeze, one more literal than the other, and Satilla didn't seem like she could get in to heal Sana who looked rather unwell. This of course left the Dwarf to be their sole bastion against... 1, 2, 3, 4... 5... 6... Enemies. Oh the odds were not in their favour, not at all.

Seeing how Satilla would be preoccupied, and the number of enemies far exceed the number of would-be heroes, with a hard swallow Thomas steeled himself. His usefulness in battle was going to be burned up rather quickly with the last of his two spells, but he wasn't going to let that necromancer best him without a fight. It was a matter of who's magic was mightier now. Raising his right hand just before him Thomas focused his arcane energy, concentrating on the feelings that surged within. Light, light turned into Warmth, warmth into Fire. Pure Cosmic Fire, all consuming fire that will purge everything and from the searing ashes arise the reborn. The sphere of the sun envisioned in his grasp, traced out before as a clockwise circle was pantomimed with his right hand. The Sunflare spell was set.
In Oh My Gods! 28 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@ScreenAcne

Are we still alive in this thread?
Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: Tower of Terror! 3rd floor.
Interacting with: Satilla, Fiendish Monstrous Centipede Large, Hooded Figure.


It seemed Satilla was still out of it. And Thomas was not the best person to resuscitate anyone given his track record. That said, laying down Satilla by the stairs in a relatively safe location was his best course of option, and letting her come to on her own as he should probably join the fray at last. Propping up the girl to sit at a level of steps just a half turn from the top, making sure her body was leaning towards the wall rather than gravity, the young sorcerer trudged onwards and upwards. The climb to the top was met with the witness of the cavalry, bodies stewn across as his team managed to fend off a good amount of enemies. Namely, it appeared to be a great amount of massive centipedes, of which Thomas would have to note to harvest their organic parts. That alchemy fellow might be interested in them, same with those boars from earlier.

Now with the majority of the enemies cleared, it was far easier for Thomas to get a clean view of the source of all their ire. That hooded enigma, mocking them all with his magicks most malefic. How much more could the necromancer churn out? Another army of undead with exploding deaths? Thomas was in no rush to find out, pointing at the ceiling just above the frames of the figure and the nearest centipede by him. Thomas' last daily spell, the magic in his blood surging as the last of the celestial light poured out into a pillar of glorious incandescence to illuminate the dastardly duo. Calling for the searing light of the noon sun inside the dark tower, the six foot round spotlight burned the gruesome twosome with wholesome light. The orange orbs of fairie fire glow of the wil-o-wisp's, motes of light which mirrored the cosmic plane, lingered there as a ward against movement outside of the sealed space, buying them perhaps some time until the minute was over.

Of course Thomas would also be slightly out of it for the next minute or so, shaking his head as a strong headache furrowed his brows and a dizzy daze made his check of his success quite possibly a dream. They were hit right? But definitely not out, not quite yet. But at least... At least now the others could figure out... Figure out that... That there were no... No wards around... Around the... The...
Most unfortunate. He was just getting to enjoy their post-battle afterglow, when something ugly decided to rear its ugly rear. Pushed away from what was unknown, something not of the warlock's design as the creeping sensation tingled up Koan's unilateral upper extremity. Flailing wildly like a lesion of the contralateral subthalamic nucleus, something shifted in the dancer's mind to think this was all the umbramancer's doing. But before he could rebuff the blame, the caused made itself clear. Crawling from the frozen gauntlet, the trickster, bade his way into their corner. With a burning despite those fiery eyes focused on the impling, procuring purplish powersuits portraying petty plebeian playing proper patronage poorly. How dare that little devil insult his shadow-woven armor while conjuring up his own cheap threads. The little runt, had let nearly slipped the shadowed one's true name to the group. Of which a dead-eyed stare filled to the brim with murder raged against the vexing Dox.

"The little gnat..." A grumble of disdain. It was clear 'Sauron' knew the imp, and vice-versa. Creatures of darkness and vile natures after all, seemed to be rather active in the underworlds, there was a history no doubt between them. One which the warlock seemed unwilling to divulge in, as he quietly doffed and re-donned his shadow armor beneath the cloak. The strengthening shadows extending the length and width of his sword as well into a greater inky mass. A two-handed blade which was sunk back into the shadows which surrounded his ivory flesh. Fortunately it seemed Koan was left in the dark about the truth, for as long as the pest did not reveal the ruse, Noriam would be able to masquerade as 'Sauron' as he pleased.

---

Air? In a vast desert, a oasis was rare, in a vast ocean, a breath of fresh air was just that. It was quite possibly a trap, although breaching the surface was refreshing. The land was far steadier than the endless water, although walking on land for the first time in days was a bit strange. Though they now numbered seven, they had barely scraped out of the last fight, and going into the den would not be any easier. For now they had to fight together, as one cohesive unit, despite the rift of mistrust between them. The arrogant little floating meatball could continue to believe he was the greatest thing since sliced lembas, but the warlock needed to play along to see where this journey takes them. Imbibed by the light once more, perhaps this was the first step in the right direction to regain his absolution and earn his soul back from the dark pact.

"I'm curious as to what we will find on land. And if it bleeds..."
A brief pause as the tendrils of shadows conferred up the once vanished edge.

Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: Spiral Staircase of Seven-thousand Steps! (The step count was grossly exagerated)
Interacting with: Satilla


How long could it possibly take to get up a single flight of stairs? Keystone had kindly entered the fray above, letting Thomas begin his ascent to join the rest of them, however the big bruiser was now replaced with something else that blocked the young sorcerer's path. Well true she was far more pleasant company, not that Keystone was bad but rather his malodorous rancorous emissions were certainly not missed, Thomas did have reason to be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed about Satilla's sudden appearance. The woodland witch had seemed to had what Thomas was currently experiencing, no not the cursed bad luck of having tumbled towards the boy from the top of the stairs, but rather fact that both had their undergarments exposed.

Cheeks turning a rosy red as any boy his age would at the sight, dumbstruck and staring a bit too long a gentleman ought to in a such a scenario. Clearly robes were not as concealing as they were advertised to be today, and at this point the party's wizardy types might as well be parading around in their linens and things. With the mix of stupefied serendipity and sated salaciousness, the surprised sorcerer suppressed the wild thoughts of a wanton youth and bent down to pick Satilla. Reverting the inverted robe edge and pulling down for modesty, Thomas had seen enough right? At least they were even now, she seen him in his whites, and now...

A shoulder underneath her arm to help prop the dizzied witch, while his right arm wrapped around to control her far shoulder in an awkward embrace. Oh the irony of having their healer down. Of course potions were a thing too but, their dwindling numbers did not bode well for this expedition and Thomas's uselessness would be gone after his expended spells. Maybe it was fortunate that lady luck had thrown Satilla at Thomas. "Hey Satilla, you okay?"
"A pity the cowards fled. They will soon be back, and in greater numbers." Shaking his head as the old cleric approached the fallen owlbear. A curious creature, powerful in muscle as a bear, though bearing the feathered visages of an owl. Tutting to see the extend of the injuries, making short work the hybrid although it did get a few licks in against the Orc's wolf. At his age Kethan was far less a combatant and more of a mentor, his slow steps purposefully cadenced as he crossed the threshold from his perch. Wading into the afterglow of battle to inspect the damage done, whispering his incantations under his breath as the eye of Ioun grasped by his hand shimmered with a soft mesmer. A soothing light which oversaw the group, a beacon of hope the mend the wounds of those who bore them. A single tap of his cane to unleash another pulse of restorative magic. A shine of light from the symbolic eye to maximize the healing, hopefully the owlbear would be better now. Although the paladin took a good brunt of the burden too, he trusted that the holy warrior would live beyond a mere flesh wound. Even the rascal who had for some reason taken a higher vantage only to leap off like a fool no less could do with some alleviation of minor scrapes. But otherwise the party seemed all the better, with nary a scratch on the others.

With dry cough, or rather a series of three of them, Kethan felt his strength sapped. A falter of his hold as he hunched over, leaning on his staff to deal with the loss of power. He certainly was not as young as he used to be, and now the ravages of time grip his body so. The evening's rest was much required, but this bout of combat, the seconds it lasted was as much action as Kethan had seen in months. The others may have been more battle ready, but a bookkeeper like him was well into his retirement from adventuring. This was to be his final year no doubt, and he would need to seek a means to extend his mortality before it was over. There were still many books to collect, repair, catalogue, work to be done. "A brief respite for Sir Lakeltia and the Owlbear ought to do. Perhaps some tea as well for myself. We should see to our means of transport to Caelmarth. And it seems... Rethink our divisions if indeed this Krusk Character will threaten the safety of Mavros while we are away. Perhaps the warforged can stay behind to defend, and perhaps if he would be so inclined, our resident magecaster. They should be more than plenty for the cur with a bit of help from the guards..."

A small suggestion as Kethan calmly returned to his original place, having given his consul. " We should leave sooner than later to Caelmarth... It is better to curse the busy day, than fear the quiet night."

@Lord Zee Currently not my post <_> Waiting for responses.

*washes hands like a Pilate*
We need to have a frank discussion on the mechanics of @rush99999's character.

Since the God doesn't exist, do the actions of an non-existent entity actually manifest?
Or are they treated as nonsensical delusions and ignore them as if they were never there?

If the former, then essentially the character is untouchable since you cannot target that which does not exist and it can conjure anything by moving nothing away, giving it a power that is vastly superior to something such as producing flames (since the god can only produce flames, rather than simply moving nothing away to create flames). If the latter, then the character will have zero interactions with anyone.

So I think the god has to either exist and can be observed by certain people, rather than not existing in itself to avoid the obvious problems that will occur when dealing with the character should it simply wish to troll everyone by conjuring random things while completely not existing.
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