@Letter Bee, as of right now, yes, but I am nocturnal by nature and mandate so my schedule is strange and haphazard.
The Harbinger of Ferocity Member
STATUS: Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics. 6 yrs ago- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
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Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
6 yrs 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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7 yrs ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
7 yrs ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
7 yrs 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
I will be unable to post until Monday, but if I remember I am awaiting @The Fated Fallen's post, seeing as Zargon has gone.
I expect for some of my subordinates to come down with some "mystery illness" around this time.
Even if it is just us, @AlicePleasanceLiddell at least this will keep it moving for the time.
@The Fated Fallen, your turn. Save yourself, gnome.
The Red, using the moment of opportunity wherein the demon fell upon his knee, seized it to unleash a grasping tear; both paws forepaws splayed wide, the attack of the demonic sword having trailed off as but a sweep to attempt to push them back, the wilderman hooked his claws down with tremendous force. The full assault not alone, having been launched from Zargon's weakest side - the point of poison - and in tandem with that of the Mamluk who thrust his blade in vengeance at the demon for attempting on the gnome's life, the barrage was undoubtedly reeling; the brunt of a hurricane. Exposed on the other flank now, the greater lioness leapt upon him as she would have any other of her prey, attempting to sink each clawed digit into his back and right to begin her rending.
Forced to withdraw from his attack to avoid Zargon's revenge - the sweeping blow leveled at Tirarrian - the orange and striped form bristled in menace, swiping low at the exposed right leg and attempting to draw the demon's ire instead by attempting to topple him; it was not that The Red did not trust the gnome could weather a strike, but in truth how many she could was not a thing he knew. The sword the demon bore was a mighty weapon, unfamiliar to him and no less diabolical than any other he had seen, but it was undoubtedly a deadly force in that it seemed to outright ignore armor and leave clean, cauterized wounds...
The attackers needed to hasten their assault - either to bring the tremendous foe and his enormous power down, which while credible was time consuming, or cripple and maim him so horribly here that whatever threat he did pose in the future should he escape was not nearly close to that he posed now.
The Red had a few approaches in mind, but it depended greatly upon if Zargon could physically withstand the current mixture of physical and supernatural threats.
@Letter Bee@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz@ArenaSnow
Forced to withdraw from his attack to avoid Zargon's revenge - the sweeping blow leveled at Tirarrian - the orange and striped form bristled in menace, swiping low at the exposed right leg and attempting to draw the demon's ire instead by attempting to topple him; it was not that The Red did not trust the gnome could weather a strike, but in truth how many she could was not a thing he knew. The sword the demon bore was a mighty weapon, unfamiliar to him and no less diabolical than any other he had seen, but it was undoubtedly a deadly force in that it seemed to outright ignore armor and leave clean, cauterized wounds...
The attackers needed to hasten their assault - either to bring the tremendous foe and his enormous power down, which while credible was time consuming, or cripple and maim him so horribly here that whatever threat he did pose in the future should he escape was not nearly close to that he posed now.
The Red had a few approaches in mind, but it depended greatly upon if Zargon could physically withstand the current mixture of physical and supernatural threats.
@Letter Bee@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz@ArenaSnow
I will post this evening.
@antman0623, I did a bit of background for the situation for the League of Chaos to help establish some motives and ways they did what they did, also to set the tone of "really bad, bad guys". I hope you do not mind.
Approximately 7 Hours Ago
The clatter of an empty magazine settled across a tiled hallway floor, followed by the crunch of a pair of boots stepping across broken glass and the rolling of spent cartridges.
Heavy breathing repeated at a steady rate behind a faceless mask which only peered with dark lenses where the wearer's eyes were; the entire and eerie thing shifted down only slightly to the cradled rifle it carried in its gloved hands; the wrists of which were taped over several fold. Seating a new magazine into the weapon, drawn from a pouch on its plastic exterior, the masked being sent the firearm's bolt forward before moving again - steady crunch of glass and debris beneath each step.
In the dim light, the power and communications having been cut, it moved like a phantom through the laboratory, bypassing the few who had attempted to stop it and failed. If it had any reaction potentially to the scene it caused, none of it carried through as its flashlight swept across them and the clap of a few following shots came after with cold, almost mechanical determination. Everyone else, the smarter or more fortunate ones, had blockaded themselves in elsewhere, as this action was only methodical and carefully executed distraction.
Elsewhere, now unprotected by its complete lack of physical security, power and even phones, several seemingly inconsequential trucks scattered about the loading lot previously, had been preparing to leave. Not just leave, but leave with far more than initially they had.
What made this laboratory as easy a target as it was for these cunning agents, was that not only did they need only generic resources, but the organization was civilian and mostly unarmed. What security there was, was minimal and ill prepared for hardened threats - let alone ones with abilities just beyond human. Other qualities, such as forbidding cellular phones and having a predictable schedule made them a prime distraction.
The League of Chaos had many plans, but this one... this obvious target was just that. An obvious one. Intentional? Perhaps, at least for one of them...
The clatter of an empty magazine settled across a tiled hallway floor, followed by the crunch of a pair of boots stepping across broken glass and the rolling of spent cartridges.
Heavy breathing repeated at a steady rate behind a faceless mask which only peered with dark lenses where the wearer's eyes were; the entire and eerie thing shifted down only slightly to the cradled rifle it carried in its gloved hands; the wrists of which were taped over several fold. Seating a new magazine into the weapon, drawn from a pouch on its plastic exterior, the masked being sent the firearm's bolt forward before moving again - steady crunch of glass and debris beneath each step.
In the dim light, the power and communications having been cut, it moved like a phantom through the laboratory, bypassing the few who had attempted to stop it and failed. If it had any reaction potentially to the scene it caused, none of it carried through as its flashlight swept across them and the clap of a few following shots came after with cold, almost mechanical determination. Everyone else, the smarter or more fortunate ones, had blockaded themselves in elsewhere, as this action was only methodical and carefully executed distraction.
Elsewhere, now unprotected by its complete lack of physical security, power and even phones, several seemingly inconsequential trucks scattered about the loading lot previously, had been preparing to leave. Not just leave, but leave with far more than initially they had.
What made this laboratory as easy a target as it was for these cunning agents, was that not only did they need only generic resources, but the organization was civilian and mostly unarmed. What security there was, was minimal and ill prepared for hardened threats - let alone ones with abilities just beyond human. Other qualities, such as forbidding cellular phones and having a predictable schedule made them a prime distraction.
The League of Chaos had many plans, but this one... this obvious target was just that. An obvious one. Intentional? Perhaps, at least for one of them...
People name these things?
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