Avatar of The Grey Dust

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3 days ago
Current Reminder that the little mermaid Ariel had no idea what a fork is... Meanwhile her father Trition had a golden magical trident that is essentially a giant golden fork...
5 days ago
Ill take a large diabetes no ice, hyperlipidemia with extra cheese, and a fresh batch of large hypertension with three ketchup packets please.
3 likes
11 days ago
A scantron exam, but the answer is always C. Just C. Always C. Not a single A, B, D, or E. All answers are C. The statistical improbability is diabolical!
3 likes
13 days ago
By default the Jimmy Buffet Bard is on a quest for a Salt Shaker after losing it after a black-out night of booze, sponge cake, carousing, and women with his only hint tattooed on his chest...
4 likes
14 days ago
I'm not a doctor but I do play one in RP. Got an itch to scratch? Try Hyrdocortisone 1% with aloe, vitamin E, and medicated Zinc oxide plus calamine cream..
6 likes

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Most Recent Posts

Yes, thinking of what to write. I mean we didn't really describe the guild hall nor the elements in the contract. Then again, my char has already had a contract (from his end) with them, as such perhaps he will assumingly politely berate one of the guild people for suggesting he take a contract...
Vampire template: Name: Lord Bedivere of Sinews Age: 1537 Appearance(s):
When you were turned: At the fall of Camelot. Weapons: Though he has amassed a few weapons collected throughout the years: a variety of swords and ranged weaponry. Although he prefers not to use them as they are far, far to precious to use in combat. Instead he prefers to use the legendary longsword which had long since been corrupted: Excalibur. In times past, it was rumored to have blinded the enemies of the king with light as it was drawn, but now it blinds the enemies of the vampire by extinguishing light around it by emanating a thick darkness from its blade. It is also an unbreakable blade, with an edge which never wears, no matter how long has the centuries been. Powers: Pallor of the Lake THe myth of vampire being unable to cross running water does not apply here, Being bitten by the lady of the lake has allowed Bedivere to travel instantaneously through any sufficiently large body of water. He may also breathe water, walk upon water as if it were solid land, and in lieu of requiring to rest within a coffin, he may simply submerge himself in water to fulfill the requirement to maintain his powers. Perfect Darkness In the evening, Bedivere gains strength, speed and stamina inversely related upon the intensity of light around him. Furthermore, Of the non-magical metals, only silver causes lasting injuries, all others will merely fail to cause harm as the wounds close up. Finally, he may shape shift into various forms as he pleases. In the daylight hours, he is comparatively weaker if exposed to sunlight. Immortal Blood Dependent upon his feeding, Bedivere can appear younger and only requires blood for sustenance. If he feeds upon a living being, then they become more susceptible to his dark suggestion and by the third feeding be completely enthralled to his command. Lastly, he may pass on the lineage the vampire by completely engorging himself upon the blood of a thrall at sunset, killing them in the process and resurrecting them as vampires by the sunrise. Personality: A man of honor, Bedivere has undoubted twisted the chivalrous image of the gentleman into something far more wicked. At face value, he is an eloquent, charismatic figure, yet his mindless thrall think of him the same. He harbors a patronizing view towards humanity, seeing them as nothing more than animals to be fed upon as history has proven to him. Although he is a man of his word, such that he keeps well on his promises, although interoperation is of course subject to change. Bedivere enjoys painting, literature, sculpting and is a fine connoisseur of blood. Through the years he has also gained a penchant for collecting be it books for his personal library, currency or weapons from the time periods amongst other quirks such as collecting thrall. He also funds “archeological” expeditions and quests to add to his collection. Bio: The stories are more than legends, and every tale is not as it seems. Bedivere was born in the late 5th century, an esteemed knight serving under a king who had ruled justly and fairly over the land. This is not where the story begins, but rather where one story ended. As in the fall of his great king, Bedivere could not bring himself to fulfill the request of his dying liege as he alone stood kneeling at side of his lord. The kingdom was crumbling, and king had requested that his blessed sword would be cast into a lake. What madness was this? To cast aside such a majestic relic which could so easily unite the kingdom once more from these foreign invaders and internal corruption was utterly beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, bound by his oath of chivalry, he fulfilled his lord’s last wish and made his way to the lake in his final quest for his fallen king, brotherhood and kingdom. And when he stood atop his boat to drop sword into the waters deepest, therein he saw the pale white hand reach out and grasped the blade to claim it before disappearing into the mist. Or so the legend goes. In truth, the hand did grasp the blade and startled him, as a pale white lady emerged from the lake, dressed in an ethereal gown before him. This was the lady of the lake, and where the story truly begins. As she grasped the sword, her beauty entrance Bedivere, who leaned towards her drawn by her airs. But this was one fatal flaw, for the lady of the lake was a daughter of the night and by the time her smile revealed her fangs, it was too late. So Bedivere awoke, unsure if it was dream or nightmare, but found himself unnatural thirst. He had become a child of the night himself, for that was the deal the king had made with the pale lady: A kingdom and life eternal for a single drink of royal blood and the promise of blood tributes for her when he had conquered all the realm. As such, this pact was now transferred and bound to Bedivere. And this is where the legend continues. Ever since his rebirth, Bedivere had changed to those who formerly knew the good sir knight. He had become a twisted man, losing color in his flesh and hair as he withdrew himself into the empty castle halls of his former fellows. No other knights were ever seen, save for him, such that they all thought he the last survivor who merely aged from the fall of the land as it decayed. In time, his disappearance and the foreboding appearance of the overgrown keep made whispers to the story. They said Bedivere was a warlock and practiced the dark arts, trained by the king’s treacherous cousin, which felled his king. They said it was not he who tossed the sword into the waters but another noble knight. They said it was he who was responsible for the death of the land evident from the ruination sprawling from the castle. And in truth, perhaps he was. This is where the legend ends. Amongst the most long-lived of the vampires, Bedivere has grown quite bored with the world. He has merely retreated to the ruins of the old castle buried beneath the centuries only to seek out prey for his hobbies and dining purposes. He keeps his halls as original as possible, never having moved any relic of the past in memory of a time when the halls were once alive with the chatter of men he called brothers. He had watched society progress through the ages. When he was active and used his dark gift, he served the countless kings and lords which lay claim to the legacy of the old king. He had engorged himself upon the blood of the Viking raiders, fought against the Norman Kings, and watched as the island wither in plague only to be unified through ages of kings and queens through blood, roses, and warfare in the rise of the Tudors. He saw Britannia expand to new and distant lands in the Far East and west, building upon itself a glorious empire. Yet, it too fell, by rebellion, revolts and revolution. Yes, blood stains were everywhere in the course of human history, and there was Bedivere to drink it up. It was interesting then, when just before the turn of the 20th century, he came into contact with a particular vampire, one who claimed to have sired many of their kind. This vampire lord was interested in a particular Carfax Abbey, and bringing his blood business to England not expecting there to have been another vampire noble already established himself there. And while Bedivere was powerful, the other lord’s mastery of the vampiric abilities was far superior than his own, to which he was forced to kneel and swear fealty to serve under the vampire lord and his lineage in exchange for his unlife and further training to unlock the true power of the vampire. He had traded one king for another, one brotherhood for another, one title for another. No longer was he Sir Bedivere, he was now known as Lord Bedivere, Lord Marshall of Dracula. And with his immortality Bedivere saw it all: the great war they claimed to end all wars as a struggle between the nations, only to be humored as another war broke forth in the ages of man. And now they dared to bring the war against the vampire. Foolishness and repetition was all he saw in the species he once dared belong to. He traded his humanity for enlightenment, they were prey: stupid, ignorant prey.
Not according to Dracula's Guest. In which references Carmilla as another vampire contemporary to Dracula, albeit under his command yet unknown if she was made by him. However I'll make adjustments and make him a sorcerer who was made into a vampire later. Which would simply explain the age. Furthermore, in Dracula, the good count's appearance changes over time actually. He was considerably older at the beginning of the novel than at the end which is suggested by his feeding habits. Hence why the 3 images.
Name: Lord Bedivere of Sinews Gender: Male Age: 1537 Appearance:
Personality: A man of honor, Bedivere has undoubted twisted the chivalrous image of the gentleman into something far more wicked. At face value, he is an eloquent, charismatic figure, yet his mindless thrall think of him the same. He harbors a patronizing view towards humanity, seeing them as nothing more than animals to be fed upon as history has proven to him. Although he is a man of his word, such that he keeps well on his promises, although interoperation is of course subject to change. Likes: Bedivere enjoys painting, literature, sculpting and is a fine connoisseur of blood. Through the years he has also gained a penchant for collecting be it books for his personal library, currency or weapons from the time periods amongst other quirks such as collecting thrall. He also funds “archeological” expeditions and quests to add to his collection. Dislikes: Humans, the less cultured the increased scorn. He also dislikes wasting any blood such that he prefers to collect live specimens to be bled to death before disposing of their bodies. Finally, Bedivere holds a slight grudge against royalty. History: The stories are more than legends, and every tale is not as it seems. Bedivere was born in the late 5th century, an esteemed knight serving under a king who had ruled justly and fairly over the land. This is not where the story begins, but rather where one story ended. As in the fall of his great king, Bedivere could not bring himself to fulfill the request of his dying liege as he alone stood kneeling at side of his lord. The kingdom was crumbling, and king had requested that his blessed sword would be cast into a lake. What madness was this? To cast aside such a majestic relic which could so easily unite the kingdom once more from these foreign invaders and internal corruption was utterly beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, bound by his oath of chivalry, he fulfilled his lord’s last wish and made his way to the lake in his final quest for his fallen king, brotherhood and kingdom. And when he stood atop his boat to drop sword into the waters deepest, therein he saw the pale white hand reach out and grasped the blade to claim it before disappearing into the mist. Or so the legend goes. In truth, the hand did grasp the blade and startled him, as a pale white lady emerged from the lake, dressed in an ethereal gown before him. This was the lady of the lake, and where the story truly begins. As she grasped the sword, her beauty entrance Bedivere, who leaned towards her drawn by her airs. But this was one fatal flaw, for the lady of the lake was a daughter of the night and by the time her smile revealed her fangs, it was too late. So Bedivere awoke, unsure if it was dream or nightmare, but found himself unnatural thirst. He had become a child of the night himself, for that was the deal the king had made with the pale lady: A kingdom and life eternal for a single drink of royal blood and the promise of blood tributes for her when he had conquered all the realm. As such, this pact was now transferred and bound to Bedivere. And this is where the legend continues. Ever since his rebirth, Bedivere had changed to those who formerly knew the good sir knight. He had become a twisted man, losing color in his flesh and hair as he withdrew himself into the empty castle halls of his former fellows. No other knights were ever seen, save for him, such that they all thought he the last survivor who merely aged from the fall of the land as it decayed. In time, his disappearance and the foreboding appearance of the overgrown keep made whispers to the story. They said Bedivere was a warlock and practiced the dark arts, trained by the king’s treacherous cousin, which felled his king. They said it was not he who tossed the sword into the waters but another noble knight. They said it was he who was responsible for the death of the land evident from the ruination sprawling from the castle. And in truth, perhaps he was. This is where the legend ends. Amongst the most long-lived of the vampires, Bedivere has grown quite bored with the world. He has merely retreated to the ruins of the old castle buried beneath the centuries only to seek out prey for his hobbies and dining purposes. He keeps his halls as original as possible, never having moved any relic of the past in memory of a time when the halls were once alive with the chatter of men he called brothers. He had watched society progress through the ages. When he was active and used his dark gift, he served the countless kings and lords which lay claim to the legacy of the old king. He had engorged himself upon the blood of the Viking raiders, fought against the Norman Kings, and watched as the island wither in plague only to be unified through ages of kings and queens through blood, roses, and warfare in the rise of the Tudors. He saw Britannia expand to new and distant lands in the Far East and west, building upon itself a glorious empire. Yet, it too fell, by rebellion, revolts and revolution. It was interesting then, when just before the turn of the 20th century, he came into contact with a particular vampire, one who claimed to have sired many of their kind. This vampire lord was interested in a particular Carfax Abbey, and bringing his blood business to England not expecting there to have been another vampire noble already established himself there. And while Bedivere was powerful, the other lord’s mastery of the vampiric abilities was far superior than his own, to which he was forced to kneel and swear fealty to serve under the vampire lord and his lineage in exchange for his unlife and further training to unlock the true power of the vampire. He had traded one king for another, one brotherhood for another, one title for another. No longer was he Sir Bedivere, he was now known as Lord Bedivere, Lord Marshall of Dracula. And with his immortality Bedivere saw it all: the great war they claimed to end all wars as a struggle between the nations, only to be humored as another war broke forth in the ages of man. Foolishness and repetition was all he saw in the species he once dared belong to. He traded his humanity for enlightenment, they were prey: stupid, ignorant prey.
Despite my current Cs project for another thread... I may be interested in creating an elder for this...
Who's post is it now anyways?
alright there we are. Let's hope the other come back, and we can make our roleplay continue. Synn's evil plan for world domination: - Phase 1: Collect Gods. - Phase 2: ???? - Phase 3: Prophet.
Change is inevitable. Synn watched the years pass by as a flutter of Crow's wings. Within the confines of his Tower, he had constructed himself a throne room from which to gaze over creation from the fringe. Creation was over, and the Ald One was appeased. Yet what little foresight did the One have, for in the wake of the Brethren, even one as powerful as the Ald One would be unable to stop it. Synn presided at his throne and there at was Werewolf by his side enjoying the stroking attention his god has given him as if mimicking the interaction between Dog and Man. Would these mortals too, seek the favour of the gods? Humans were pitiful creatures, though now more plentiful in numbers, like vermin they spawned themselves and tucked themselves in small spaces in their failure to construct from stone. How they foraged for food, scurrying about from plant to plant for substance in the garden of the gods. They were useless beyond measure, like their own children who suckled upon their creators and could not live without the hand to which would ensure their survival. Synn had given them the right to defy the gods, yet here they were, requiring the graces to survive. They did not revere the gods by choice, but rather by necessity: not out of want to, but need of. Still though, Synn saw them in their primitive dwellings and watched them develop into their social communities. They would need someone to guide them to the beyond, to reach the potential that Synn had saw in them. "Go, gather the Brethren before Us, such that We may propose to create a blessed one amongst the Humans so that the chosen one will be the emissary of the Gods." Synn ordered his servitor who barked in subservience before departing from the Pit of Pandemonium to hunt down the quarry requested of his Master. Upon all fours in the guise of a wolf did Werewolf run across the span, the fabric of reality served as a pathway for the creature as it traveled across the universe without any apparent physical limitations. As they had broke contact, Synn had retained a portion of Ybris' power over life and as he had collected his gift from Lur as she was now known as, he had instilled in Werewolf a vigorous spark of life such that it could never tire nor be killed without divine intervention. And now his Herald runs to fetch the Gods to audience with Synn. Whichever god saw it first would most likely the first to hear of Synn's request.
Yes, well perhaps I should then do a post and see if people are interested in continuing or not. Quickly, to the Necronomicon!
Well, there's the first post. Hopefully I played it well enough. Not sure if Redswift would expect a human to speak elven.
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