Status

Recent Statuses

7 mos ago
Current One cannot live from anything except what one is.
8 mos ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
8 mos ago
The core of an individual is the mystery of life, which dies when it is 'grasped'. That is also why symbols want to keep their secrets.
10 mos ago
Like plants, so men also grow, some in the light, others in the shadows. There are many who need the shadows and not the light.
2 likes
11 mos ago
I went into the inner death and saw that outer dying is better than inner death. And I decided to die outside and to live within. For that reason I turned away and sought the place of the inner life.

Bio

The Harbinger of Ferocity


Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine
Nature, red in tooth and claw.

"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."
- Carl Van Vechten

I am, at my core, a personification and manifestation of those things whose blood and hearts run red with the ferocity of the animal world. It is this which convicts and controls my works, my writing, my being; the force and guidance in which I gain wisdom from. It is what inspires me as a creator and weaver of words, the very thing I admire as an author.

My leanings, savage as they are, are of the feline sort as there exists no greater lineage of beasts whom can be drawn from. No others captivate and motivate my talent and skill as the greatest of cats do.

Most Recent Posts

I keep the small tokens and trinkets I am given, even the words themselves. The meaning behind all things in life matters greatly to me and each thing is imbued with some amount of that.
Moreland
Approximately 2045 Hours
Warpath National Park
Whitetail Run

Along the hills of Appalachia, small dots of campfire light glowed among the thick woodland and lit up a largely dark, cold night with their warm orange radiance. There were few out at this season and with good reason as it was not all too pleasant with the stir of the wind, the same that carried between the trees and down the mountains. While it was not whipping, it was far removed from the best seasons of the year here, and it dissuaded enough to make it more quiet than it could be. The song among the branches, however, did not go ignored as some invisible element whispering on the wind spoke back from one of the rocky outcroppings.

At first there were no lips, no mouth, no face to even say anything at all but there clearly was a voice. It said quite plainly, should any have been there to hear it, "You called?"

The wind spoke back, the soft sway of some of the boughs above stilled without warning after and a calm fell upon the mountain. A certain peculiar stillness that would have made the hairs upon the back of the neck stand on end. That is, of course, if the voice from nothing was not enough.

Upon the outcropping the voice came again, alongside teeth as long as a man's forearm from the darkness, "I had been waiting, you know. Waiting for a very, very, very long time."

Each ghostly limb tensed its digits upon the stonework as it took form until in a single exhale made it flesh again. Living, breathing, and clearly from some other time and place. It stood in the darkness, seeing it almost as if it were day, and more importantly, the place for which it was called to act; the glow of a city. Both piercing eyes blinked softly as the tremendous figure turned to leave, yet it was stopped in its tracks, an ear swiveled back.

"Is that so?" The dark jowls questioned as they carried out each word before ending with, "I had high hopes it was time enough but if that is the way it will be done..."

A kneeling man slowly stood with a visible wince where the beast was, looking no worse for wear on this cold night alone. He looked over his palms, articulating his fingers before he shivered and breathed out a cloud of steam. It was clear he was not dressed for this environment at all, no jacket to turn the worst of the wind aside, and in slightly worn clothes, down to the damage of his jeans even.

"... then that is the way it will be done."

The wind around the rocky perch stirred as it raced to life once more and he disappeared from sight. It was not long before he stood again in the heart of the city. The sort of thing that would be missed in the blink of an eye, just another nameless person among the streets. For him, however, that was another story altogether, and the moment he arrived he was on his way, following behind the last person to step in front of him. No one would notice or come to think of anyone in the masses and that was one of the first key steps to getting to where he needed to go. His eyes darted back and forth, seeming to look around for the first sign and indication he could get what it was he needed to better get by in the living illusion.

When he finally spied it, he moved on it, slipping his hands from his pockets and narrowing his eyes; it was not that being in the city had already soured his mood but it had not helped at all. So by the time he turned down the walkway toward the people gathered near the underpass, what would come next would be brief, very brief at that, and more so than ever as both parties looked at one another.

"You want something?" One of the four asked...
Thank you for the response and not to worry on the matter of delay, @Omega Man. I just wanted to be sure there was some sort of system and plan in mind and clearly there is.
Whenever it is I read over my own works, I find that they are never to the standards I would hope they live up to. I place these unreasonable expectations upon myself and others but such is the nature of pursuing an ideal.
Does one have a rough timeline for when reviews of other character sheets will be done? It is clear that you are busy, but I ask out of the sake of curiosity for myself and how to schedule the next coming week for myself, @Omega Man.
The Savage Realm
Dungeons and Dragons 3.5e
Setting

It has been thirteen years since the southern kingdoms went to war, dragging the second largest power in all the land into conflict and all but sealing the fate of over three quarters of the continent. What was already a dark age in the decline of the arcane arts and each sovereign holding the world over has now reached breaking point, that which has made possible the terrible things of a dangerous realm to return and no more are there heroic champions of many banners or many guilds to stop them. Instead, there is only one forsaken hold on the land that is the border between the outer turmoil that has crept in over this period and that of the inner turmoil between kings and their kingdoms, the Marches. It is a mountainous, woodland buffer between Dorrathar, the last great crown and the sole one not embroiled in warfare across its rolling countryside, and the untamed Hinterlands which are plagued by all manner of things from the Great Wilds further east.

The Marches is a land blasted by events long since forgotten, where crumbling stonework defenses dot various peaks and hills among the thickets of trees or plentiful chill grassland, and only dared into by the desperate - of which now there are many. It is now a frontier land, backed only by the remains of the continent spanning Western Wall, and increasingly filled with those fleeing the worst conflict seen in a millennia or more since the gods and their influence were cast out of the Material Plane, or the famine and illnesses that came with these refugees in their exodus. These people, ill prepared and ill equipped to face those things of the east, are now trapped. This land, that of the Marches, is the place where one bars their home not only to ward off thieves, but the wolves outside their door; a place where even the roaring flame of a torch is not enough to scare off anything that dares lurk the night. They face their deaths either at the hands of the hostile environment or the world they fled from. Many scrounge for what they can and so what farming communities do exist, they cling tooth and nail on all that they have, one poor harvest from disappearing into the merciless winter or the hungering jaws of those beasts which stalk it.

There is no further travel to the east at that, for as the wilderness grows thicker the closer one comes to the Great Wilds, so too does the likelihood of encountering elves. Unlike their now distant cousins who held out in the west long after the fall of the Lost King and the crusade which broke the grasp of the divines, these elves have turned to ways far older. They are deadly killers, stalkers among the trees, and have only searing, vengeful hatred for any and all interlopers. There is no refuge to the north either, for even if one pressed through the mountains of the roaring wilds and every manner of monster that calls them and their sporadic ruins home, the dwarves in their mountain citadel have not been seen for ages, and the towering stone doors remain sealed. So it cannot be said if they live any longer or at all, rather that there is no escape. Either one must fight for every little scrap they may or that too disappear into the Marches' unspoken history for good.

However, in this dire twilight hour, some hope still exists. Even as the nobility of the land hides away in their timeworn keeps and feuds amongst themselves and one another, and even as the peasantry scrounges by to keep the wheels of their mills and little villages turning, opportunity has arisen. Those with novel or unusual skills, even those who have but arm to swing the sword, can find work in a land of dangerous opportunity. Yet that is not the case, at least not yet for you.
Story


The adventure begins with one of the harsher realities of life in the Savage Realm, that the world is not good, and the world is not fair. Your character, right or wrong, has been arrested by the militia of one of the Marches' villages. Punishment is often brutal and humiliating and while trial by jury in this land is the law, there is no one that your character knows or who knows your character, thus there are no willing jurors to side on their behalf. This, by default, has made the defendant guilty and while the worst of punishments in death has been avoided, it is clear that whatever the peasantry and their few officials intend, it will not be pleasant or in the favor of the character. Fortunately, as fate would have it, a few other poor, miserable souls have been brought in from the surrounding countryside and other villages to stand justice - these individuals just so happen to be the other members of the party in some cases. Regardless of their guilt, or your own character's guilt, they are found guilty in public demonstration but are instead wrangled together to serve the interests of the community until their "debt" to justice is paid.

The militia is not as well armed, equipped, prepared, or even trained as your party, and it becomes quickly evident the best use of them in their "service" to have their names and their marks cleared is to perform those tasks too dangerous for the rest of the communities in the area. Congratulations, the party are now "adventurers" in name, even if not in actuality. What is done from there, if anything, depends upon your actions for your characters and that of others. The overarching narrative, with or without the party, will continue, and consequences from whatever deeds done or not done will continue to accumulate and play out.
Overview


This is a Dungeons and Dragons 3e, Dungeons and Dragons 3.5e, and Pathfinder hybrid campaign, where all first and second party material is legal with approval, starting with characters at 1st level. It will be largely geared toward inexperienced players as several of the participants have never played a tabletop of this variety and or on a forum topic. The majority of the setting will orient itself toward a "sword and sorcery", "low fantasy", adventure through a dense, diverse wilderness environment alongside sporadic traditional "dungeon crawls" with a large amount of exploration and combat. Likewise, despite the game orienting toward a fair amount of combat, combat is not always the only solution, and moreover not everything should be fought - sometimes withdrawing might be the safest plan of action. Players are expected to be active and utilize the plethora of resources provided to them via an off-site service, while the game itself will be entirely play-by-post on the forum. Character submissions are expected to be grounded, more serious submissions, and focus on a narrative of trying to build character by overcoming adversity and trial, as well as forming a party dynamic by bonding with one another. The Dungeon Master, in all circumstances, retains ultimate executive authority but the game will be played verbatim by its rules unless exceptions need be made to account for events or decisions that the rules do not cover.
Players


The individuals listed below are the following persons who have been permitted access to this game. At this time of writing, at most two applications will be accepted, for a total party of five characters. Interested persons may voice their interest in this topic but may not post character sheets in that section until first approved by the Dungeon Master. Applicants must be active members with reliable posting.

The Dungeon Master
@The Harbinger of Ferocity

The Party
@BangoSkank
@Hellion
@TyrannosaursRex
[Unfilled Slot]
[Unfilled Slot]
Almost daily people in some way reveal to me they should not be trusted and do not actually deserve respect. Unfortunate for myself that my code of conduct demands that I do these things, regardless of any wiser alternative. Such is the nature of living by example, I suppose.
There is something irksome to me about the nature of food intended for companion animals, in that all too often I note it is increasingly marketed toward the needs of the people, not so much the animals themselves. While I can appreciate the move away from the processing of old, cramming into these things which these animals have no need in their diet just to sell more product - effectively filler - is tiresome. There is a reason these additions and supplements are not seen in ex situ conservation or even zoo dietary plans for related organisms.
I knew a man who was the closest thing to a professional treasure hunter in the modern age I can come to think of. He collected fossils, gemstones, meteorites, and relics for private sale, many of which made him quite wealthy. He was also an eccentric in the highest regard and a touch paranoid, overall a novel character.
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