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1 mo ago
Current Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
5 mos ago
The highest, most decisive experience is to be alone with one's own self. You must be alone to find out what supports you, when you find that you can not support yourself.
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1 yr ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
1 yr ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
1 yr 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.

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

As much as I find space a novelty more than an interest of my own, I cannot help but see its uses to my own ends.
This has my interest as well based upon the previous conversations we have crossed with in passing on the Discord, @StormWolf.
In the distant beyond the security of the temple's aged stone walls, the sun cresting beyond the mountains and forests brought with it the commencement of night. As safe and sure as this place was, as well as the few torches that dotted the streets outside - the same in which they had seen from their prison nights - it was a change of atmosphere. If dangerous things were not already lurking out and about just as twilight struck, they were now. Further and further still with the falling sun, the growing dark, did the world change rapidly. It became unsettling, as though an invisible mist, a haziness of uncertainty and discomfort set over the land. Even just watching it from the thick glass evoked anxiety, much like the first few nights in the hillside had before it became clear nothing would dare try to breach such an insulated old prison, even if signs of it wandering outside were never far.

It removed the bashfulness and modesty of the priest who, when he returned again one last time with bowls of soup as large as small shields carved from wood, seemed wary. Some sort of inexplicable expectation that terribleness was not far and it was not; a long, distant, mournful cry of something in the wilderness beyond tainted the air. Subtle enough that it was almost impossible to make out among the crackle of the fire and the soft sound of his leather shoes but it added to the ambiance in a way preferred otherwise.

Setting down each remaining meal upon the floor he spoke to them again, "I am afraid this and the hard bread is all I have to reward you with for your apparent success..." He stood after, brushing his slack robes, "But at least you are all not outside."

The remark brought to mind the thought of what now were likely tearing through the den of slaughtered rats; goblins, wolves, other rats if not assuredly. Likely eating anything dead and killing anything that remained, doubtful to linger on, however. There was little left at the farmstead as it was before, the tunnels a network of things being brought to them like the strange chest they had found. Although now that was thankfully all behind them.

"Tomorrow I am sure His Honor will grace us again." Marthan added, rubbing his hands a bit together in visible anxiety. Surely the news of the stead being freed from the consuming wrath of the wilderness would be welcome but would it be enough? After all, all of them were to be dead men walking. Their freedom was only ever truly going to be "earned" in their debts paid in full, no? Even the priest seemed aware of this but hoped otherwise.

@Archangel89@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
The trudging march from the lair of the filth ridden rats into the open air was a freeing experience. Stepping outside the crumbling, blackened homestead that once was a farm, thankfully all they saw before them was their handiwork from not long before. Twice had they "escaped" an earthen prison although it likely were if one asked now which they preferred, the time awaiting their sentencing may have been much preferred. Whatever the case, they set off through the field, wary of the sun above them and its arc across the sky. The time on this accursed stead was truly not all that long and thankfully it hadn't been as there was still time to return to town, at least by hour of twilight.

Brushing the dirt off from his armor, de Brey lead them as he had before. Although, once again, it was the elven bowman who was really guiding them. Not that they needed it to follow the road back, the eagerness of the moment and their procession hastened them to attention, but this still was the Marches. There was no telling if the boars that had seen earlier might emerge from the throng of trees that lined each side of the path or if those things that consumed said boars would. Or worse, as this land was tainted. So they had heard at least, that the ages past still lingered here and terrible things of old wars and events long before the departure of the pantheon. A black mark on the face of the continent, as if the north was not already a pock of its own stripe or the east with its elven rangers.

The concern lurking in back of mind was ever more reasonable. They were wounded, fatigued, and perhaps even diseased if the reality of rooting out a rat's nest was even close to what it had been. To their fortune, however, their ever so slightly limping return to town was uneventful, and they passed by the first few farms as the sun was drawing close to the horizon. For all intents and purposes they had made it "home" in a way, to the temple that greeted them in the distance. Only having been gone less than a day, its sanctuary was a welcome promise, was certainly was its finer features and restorative promises.

Together they entered the stone structure, being none accosted by the militia who they did not even see on their way back, likely elsewhere if even at their posts, and found that the priest who had been the most generous soul to them yet was surprised at their return so soon. His eyes were filled with a certain shine of surprise and he confessed that he had imagined they would be gone for days. That they had not even stopped to eat or rest mesmerized him in a way that spoke to his perhaps all too worrying innocence. As a man of the cloth who attended a lonely temple on the fringes of the civilized world, if this place could even be called that, he truly knew little of just what it was they had him send the band of prisoners on in exchange for starting down the road to redemption.

While his apologies seemed sincere, perhaps more it was his deeds that might alleviate worries. He allowed them into the cellar of the temple, where the fire was kept and stoked, as well as the cauldron and the jugs of water to clean themselves. Moreover, the priest so too performed his magical investiture of healing upon them, warning them that while he was able to mend their wounds and cure them of the ailments that had not even yet manifest, they needed to be far more careful in this sense; not everything could he remedy and the powers needed for far more dangerous things were certainly not here. Whether they took the warning in or not was unknown but the holy man provided them with what little else he had to offer.

A few blankets and a floor, for the night they could sleep upon the temple's grounds protected rather than trapped by its walls...

@Archangel89@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
Speaking of heated metal, I can indeed claim witness to the reality that it is possible to inadvertently weld a barrel to a receiver assembly.
Perhaps, I'm mistaken. But from the looks of it, neither of you actually disagree. The topic at hand was about forum roleplaying specifically. So when someone says "as a whole", they're more than likely describing 'the forum medium as a whole' versus one particular site. Otherwise, I don't know why "and the interest will expand/grow elsewhere" would be included. If it was meant to be a universal sentiment on the decline of roleplaying.


This summary says really all I said aptly. Point being, that the method of forums are considerably at disadvantage compared to other opportunities, especially those more versatile. The expression of "People have become more flighty, less committed, less active, and that is not just here in the medium but as a whole." as a sentiment falls well into the category that communication as a medium has completely changed and there are more efficient methods to expand upon. Discord is just an easy target to note than say, Skype or Yahoo Messenger ever were. As acknowledged here in this very thread, the post I am referring to, Reddit, even Facebook offer the same technique and approach, yet one can switch from a primarily roleplaying focused post or even a few responses to instantaneously browsing another interest of the user. The level of distraction and activity is just easier to accommodate, a very real consequence in component of the "evolving nature of our communication medium, and the rapid expanse of the internet", @Ammokkx.

I have certainly seen people vanish even many years ago but none have I ever seen so many as forums with time. Again, other methods have appeared to be more reliable. I cannot speak for say, Reddit or Facebook, but I can certainly see first hand that Discord has proven more effective that way. I also base my response, still do at that, at the reality that people will chime in with a post more rapidly there then dally off elsewhere than visit a forum reliably. I am uncertain if I have sufficiently explained what I said the first time over but I do hope that it is more clear.
I am not bothered by needles or medical practices and in part because of that, in the past I had volunteered for some research.
Beyond a doubt, having been in forum roleplaying and roleplaying of some variety for decades, the medium has slowed down increasingly. While I too agree with the sentiment it will never truly die, it will likely never be as populous and widespread as it once was or even nearly as intense as it had been. It is more than just say, the issues of community or other, and rather it is just an overall trend. People have become more flighty, less committed, less active, and that is not just here in the medium but as a whole. A lot of tremendous work goes to waste as a result, as does massive opportunity such as the nature of so many being at home with virtually endless time to be creative and productive with their own visions and ideas, but that is the nature of the beast.

It is my expectation it will slow more and more, becoming increasingly a bygone relic, and that interest will only continue to expand elsewhere especially with Discord. As while instant messenger services have existed for the topic for some time, none really have the ubiquitous quality Discord does and the amount of options plus overlap of interest it provides. A forum tends to be far more limited, more specific, less convenient, and many of those are negatives held against it now with the way the approach has changed. Collaborative editing sites as well which act in real-time and have near universal availability, too, being another example.
The soldier, now having in part redeemed himself and his duties although he still harbored a hardness in his heart toward the man who had sentenced them, breathed slowly through his lips. The air of anxiety and tension leaving his chest, he took in the moment, removing his helm and setting it under an arm as he surveyed the fallen beast. One of his boots nudged a limb, lifting it, checking to see if it were really as lifeless as it appeared while the other held the hammer at increasing rest; they really had done it after all. Hair sticking to his face drenched with sweat, he looked over his companions in misery for a moment. It was too close to home for him, too familiar in a way, and soberingly he retreated back into his helm, giving a nod of agreement to both who had spoken that they should best leave from this vile pit.

Tracan, in the meantime, had only a sense of underlying wrath in her extinguished for now. Mentally exhausted more than she was physically, she was pleased only that the creature was not say, resistant or immune to her talent, but all the same this experience had tapped her completely. Her bow and hand would be steady, just her heart and certainly her mind now too were not in the place they needed to be. She spoke up as she was oft want to, saying, "Let's go then. Nothing here for us now just like there wasn't before."

She slung her bow once again, flexing her fingers after open and closed, rolling her wrist over itself a few times. It surprised her that they asked nothing of her ability, leaving it just up to elven trickery and magic most likely, although she couldn't help be more suspicious they would conspire about it before asking. For the time being, however, she drew her dagger from her belt and looked on down back the path they had came, the only other they hadn't gone taking them to the barn. It was that or they returned down the path toward the chest...

@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
The swipe of the axe forced the creature back a step, its feet faltering. The unholy beast snapping at Vah'lux with a clatter of its stained, vicious teeth. But she was too quick, too strong to be bowled over by such an attack. So, so many fights in that dread pit, cheered on by orcish warriors and savages, thrown to the literal wolves or sentenced to slaughter the helpless who fought for their very lives. This loathsome creature? No, it would not be allowed to end her or anyone else.

The roar of flame behind her and the sudden heat that filled the giantess' mind warned her that the elf was again up to her magic of some kind and she wisely dodged. Narrowly, a gout of fire passed by her and blasted the creature with the brunt of force. It howled, really it screamed, a scream that pierced their ears with its almost human quality and shook them to the bone. It struggled, part of its motley fur aflame and flesh charred before it collapsed. Each crooked toe of the monstrosity curled, grasping the ground.

But these last moments were not long, it was dead. Magic, not might, overcame its defenses and slew the beast, an art all but as taboo as it came. Would such power be all that could tame this wild land and its accursed grounds, scarred by battles past?

It would be decided in due time and likely in part by the five who dared into this pit.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
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