Status

Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current One cannot live from anything except what one is.
2 mos ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
3 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.
5 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
6 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

The unnatural resolve and endurance that flowed through the moontouched beast allowed it to weather a brutal storm that left its off white, pale fur stained with red. A step back from the recoil, it shook itself off and exhaled sharply with pointed, merciless fangs slick with spittle. With an ominous glow, the changed figure's pawed hand gave off ghostly light and the whole body for a moment relaxed as though a breakthrough in the recklessness was reached, a moment of lucidity. The digits flexed some as the palm grew more taut, a channel for a font of energy, and soon they laid themselves to rest against the stained chest armor of the pained beast. In a soft corona of silvery energy, the deep wounds all but disappeared, knitted back together into unnaturally tough flesh once more. While it did not remove the crimson stains or the sickening, metallic odor, it did stanch the worst of the injures taken - those same that would have killed a mere man outright several times over.

All that followed now was the fading dispatch of the ethereal shroud and its cool, divine glow, leaving the body. Such a moment of serenity, the eye of the storm, passed as the desperately needed second wind came to in full effect. The bestial, monstrous thing would hold out for as long as it could, so in return it lifted up the sword and this time, met the blade of the half-dragon with an audible clatter of tense steel, blade to blade; Cyanwrath would have his wish, but what was or once was Brannor, was not about to go easily or lightly. Every ounce of the tiger, from the tip of its whiskers to the point of its claws, were ready to go for a second round.

Yet for now the wild eyes flashed beyond the duel, a moment realizing that the tide was still roiling - perhaps turning - in all its chaos, then back to the draconic aggressor, the one who razed Greenest. Something needed to be done and it was clear that if the curse gifted man did not, and neither did his allies, none could or would.


@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
A several thousand dollar fossil I own was near ruined by a careless contractor when plaster struck it while it was on display because they did not properly enclose the area they were working on. As a result, the contractor's foreman was called and the subcontractor responsible removed from their partnership. This should serve as forewarning and testament to not be negligent in duties and attempt to cut costs in time or money.
Well done, that might be another one finished yet. A close battle still, to be certain, but our odds are improving with each turn with these string of rolls. Hopefully Brannor can keep Cyanwrath busy for a few more turns so that this cave expedition can end.
I find that there is never enough time in the day. No matter just how early it might well be, it all passes too swiftly by and so rare is it that I feel like the day drags on.
I have considered a few options, ranging from darker low fantasy, something I am more partial to, to something as high fantasy in the mere hopes of finding players at all, @Gunther. Alternatively I might well try to start a modern campaign with much more down to earth characters although yet again the issue has been a lack of reliable players. Which is what leads me into my fact. In all my time roleplaying, the reason I have seen the most topics die is because the players go silent.
I am considering coming out of retirement to begin a campaign on the forum in the tabletop section but worry that it will merely be one of those inevitable things I will do that people stop being active in and kill the thread.
Rock Me



Some part of me still calls to the era of the 1980s for reasons unknown. This one recently rejoined me seemingly out of the blue. Why it came back again I cannot say.
All too often my dreams come before events, often in elaboration of them and extreme exaggeration of overarching themes. It is no wonder oneiromancy and prophecy were considered very, very true throughout the past of the world over, and that how seers or those with favor could predict the future that no others could. I much prefer the world of dreams as it were regardless of this foretelling or not.
"For in an area in which an established man-eater is operating, everyone suspects their own shadows and every sound heard at night is attributed to the man-eater."
Edward James "Jim" Corbett
There are several members of this thread who I would legitimately consider roleplaying with but never seem to find a topic I could actually bring my character to without disrupting anything.
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