Current
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.
1
like
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.
Exhalation of dying breath reaching the warrior's sharp ears, he examined the small, scaled body he stood over for but a moment, living in the pause that came after the wake of the ferocious strike. The second of these last two, sling still in hand, had fallen but a moment after the first and collapsed without outside assistance it seemed; its mind taxed to the point of exhausting its body and it too laid still, albeit less so, than its butchered allies. It was now at the onset of feet hurrying close, the man with sword in hand turned to note the bronze skinned woman held low over the other man's body, looking back and down to her over his shoulder.
Battle-worn boots sticking lightly to the bloodied road, he stayed clear of the elf and allowed her to... for lack of better words, perform whatever art he just witnessed by invocation of her instrument. Content to let her work her magic, he placed a hand along the engraved fuller of the sword and slicked from its steel surface the blood of the kobolds, casting it aside and repeating this process once again on the other half. Still watching her, she appeared successful and rose to her feet after, moving on to the family and woman who seemed to have survived the ordeal, speaking to them in assuring tones.
Blinking a bit in disbelief, golden eyes perplexed, he looked to the family then the halfling with a slight expression of confusion upon his stubbled face in this fire and moonlit night; he knelt down all the same beside the orc on one knee after seating the greatsword against his back once again - its worthy work done. Observing now, the other man was distinctly breathing, this time no longer drifting between the place of twilight.
"Strange..." Brannor's voice remarked under his breath as he invoked some of the supernature that laid dormant within his form; outstretched palm taking on a ghostly ash white shroud of which bore motions of faint pale green in its dim light.
If Brannor is not interrupted, he will use his ability to Lay on Hands upon Orchid, awakening him and restoring 2 hit points.
There does exist an over representation of certain genres among the roleplaying community here and while people should be free to participate in what they enjoy, I am hardly pleased by the lack of original works. I am sure they are all well and good to those interested, these predominantly fandom series, but why not do something all one's own? In my opinion they snuff out creativity by garnering peoples' limited attention and availability. I have always been opposed to their dominance given the amount of frustration I have personally experienced when seeing some members of my target audience pulled aside and active into them rather than my works or those I subscribe to.
In a way they strike me as insincere, but even that much is not true and I know it. But what I do know is that anime, fandom and slice-of-life categories are significantly more common than many others.
The scent of fear struck a primal chord within the heart of the bestial woman that was Sakaala, but not in the manner one might have expected based upon outward appearance alone. Rather than taking pride in the man's fright as he carefully set down the axe, looking between her, the knights and the other mercenary, she recalled there was good reason to fear creatures like her. She said nothing more for the moment, not pausing either to recall why she and others were rightfully feared. Instead, she drew up her leather sack by the straps, the same that bore the dozing halfling not too many steps outside the door, taking them both to near the fire's side.
"I have no need for a room," Her strong arm gently set the satchel and other woman down beside the warm glow of the flames, "But I will pay you all the same as you have asked."
She looked to Diagorides and then the door, or what remained of it, then turned her attention back to the inn's keeper. It was not a hollow gesture, her words to come, but moreover a practical one; a door was better than none. If it took a burly man to rip it clean from its hinges, then it was sturdy enough to slow most potential threats some. This night had ample conflict as it was and the soaking fur of the lioness' worn hide spoke quiet volumes about how much she was displeased with having to face another enemy so quickly on short notice.
"... and I will mend your door."
The tone she spoke in just as commanding as anything else she said, keeping her attention back again to the rest of her group and wherever this would-be assassin had gone. She trusted none of them too deeply, the knightly men more by virtue of their sworn codes and Diagorides by his love of challenge and coin, but more so than her former enemy - her former quarry. It would be difficult to divide what she had set her mind to doing, but if she could meditate on these things this night and perhaps even sleep, there might be more clarity yet.
It is that hour of darkness wherein mankind and magic have fallen to the furthest reaches of their despair. That time where the kingdoms of men tear themselves asunder in turmoil and their people repay debts with the last which they have to offer. These wars however, are not of what concerns us, but what these powerful men dive straight into blindly; the very jaws of annihilation. Gaping as they are, these foolish souls seek power which they can no longer so readily tap, just as thirsting as they were before. Where in the time before mages cast spells through a myriad of forms, the ousting of their gods has destroyed their nigh infinite power... and it is for these reasons they have turned to the world as a resource, set to strip away anything and everything they know - we know - to feed their existence.
But we are predators, not prey.
They flense the land for its rarest of riches, those of stone, wood and worse yet, flesh. They have stripped your brothers and sisters bare; the fur torn from their pelt. Their power comes from our power and that of others, gifts that are unique to each, all stolen and twisted to serve mortal magic. Just as quickly and as hungrily one carves their kill, they too pillage their magical reagents. But no more will this be allowed, for we were few, now too fewer yet. We are not alone in our suffering, but there is little for animal, earth or man we can do against these fell minds.
All it is we can do is hunt, just as we always have, but our means are not so limited by numbers. There exists a source of power which we may drink from that they can never truly touch; their own. For each of these monsters of men we destroy, we take from them what was ours all along and with our eventual demises, so too will it return to the earth from which we were formed from. All things will once again be made whole.
But until then, we are the last pride - the one last hope our kind has, lest we become nothing more than the animals they see us as...
Overview
The Last Pride is a savage fantasy roleplay wherein the player characters are some of the last enchanted animals of the entire world, brought together by the mythic Calling of the Cats, a summons that demands all those that can hear it arrive ready with claw and fang to battle. They are faced, as the last pride, with an insurmountable enemy as their foes are not just men, but mages; those who wield the arcane craft as a science or art. Whereas sorcery calls upon a magical spark within, these wizards manipulate their power through immensely rare components, words and gestures... some of the greatest of which call for the harvesting of obscure resources; thousands of coin in diamond, years of growth for a flower's petal, or worse yet - portions of scarce living things.
It is a time of turmoil where kings and their council struggle against those others of the land in the wake of the loss of their gods. No longer hearing their voices, answers to their prayers, or signs of their deeds, they run scared with little insight beyond their mystic viziers' knowledge. The world itself, no less, descends into a period of extended darkness where the daylight lasts shorter than ever before and great illness has blanketed the mortal world with plagues. Creatures of strange origin, monstrous things, lurk in the darkness or even the day, some merely only horrific but others truly diabolical.
The last pride however, holds one great boon over their enemies, for just as any predator partakes in the food their kill provides, these fierce things draw upon magical essence to expand their own. But for now, these great cats of many different spots or stripes and walks of life face their first challenge in their calling. Rare as they are, they are forced to work together, as their enemy is a king driven mad by want of a breath of life to extend his coming end. The only thing with such a gift?
Attempt, at minimum, a paragraph for each of the categories below and be descriptive and precise about each. Detail is king, some of which may be crucial to saving your character's life, while much of the time it will determine who they are to their pride.
[b]True Name[/b]: A cat has many names, but this name is that of which they keep to themselves and others alike them. It is a secret that reveals truths about the feline in question and as with any other true name, it allows power to be exerted over them by those with such knowledge. Thus, to cats, a true name is never to be revealed to outsiders. These names follow distinct patterns such as "Eyes-of-the-Moon", "Red-in-Mane", or "He-Who-Hungers".
[b]Species[/b]: A cat of the greater caliber, for the trials ahead are not those of men or other beasts. They must be strong and swift, stalwart and cunning, intelligent and fearsome. Smaller felines can emulate these ideals well, but the prices paid for their weaker resilience will likely be mortal. The great cats in question will hunt not just men, but the mages of men, facing their minions and magic alike in vicious melee.
[b]Gender[/b]: A cat has a born gender, but it matters not if they keep to it or make any use of it. They are not common animals and their expectations are that of a warrior regardless.
[b]Age[/b]: A cat lives not like others; they will see their siblings and mates live and die of age or violence, as they are tied strictly to an unnatural path. They mature rapidly but age slowly thereafter, living as long - at times longer - than mortal men. Some are said to live forever.
[b]Description[/b]: A cat takes pride in what it is they are in mind, body and soul. To describe themselves is a work of art all its own, for every cat takes great pleasure in being both admired and feared. They bear bodies much the same as their brethren, oft only being larger and more robust, at times bearing unusual coloration or marking such as a pelt as dark as moonless night or pale fur and paler yet eyes. In any sense, they at most appear as strange, mythic natural animals. Their bodies are lean and muscular, sleek and dangerous.
[b]Personality[/b]: A cat can be just as fickle as it is prideful, loving one moment yet vicious in the very next. They are a spirit with a myriad of personalities, just as many as men and while some arise from jaded, hardened paths others are young and vibrant, unaware of how truly dire their future is. Many cats keep secret the depths of their past, but their attitude oft betrays that some other element lies beneath the surface.
[b]Attributes[/b]: A cat is a master of their body, but not all are made equal for even two sisters might be wholly unalike - one a great mother and skilled huntress while the other a fierce yet barren warrior. What they excel in might not even be physical, it might be spiritual with knowledge beyond regular knowing, or a mind so sharp that it rakes complex thoughts or issues as cleanly as the claws carve flesh. What specific attributes and strengths they have depends upon the cat in question, for all are gifted with means beyond men.
[b]Magic[/b]: A cat of this sort is not only a powerful living weapon just as its mundane counterparts are, but one wielding mystic powers. The blood of all animals runs with an undertone of magic, but the cat - great and small - knows these attributes better than many. All cats have a handful of gifts inherent to them as a whole in the form of the ability to tap magic from their kills, steal the life of those near death, see through falsehood and avoid certain death. However, those who can hear the Calling are born with two additional boons. Unlike men, cats themselves are innately enchanted and call up their magic from within, having no need for words of power, reagents or gestures.
[b]Backstory[/b]: A cat has a diverse, long story to accompany them in many cases; no life ever too common or of expectation. From youth into adulthood, there is much to be said in between as in this time where the world of men crumbles into hopelessness and devastation, there is no shortage of story or sorrow. Some were content to allow these things, others did as they could, while rarer few preyed upon the weakness of their old enemies...
Universal Gifts These traits are common across all great cats.
Breath of Life It is said with good reason that the inhale of a cat can steal away a mere man's life. This boon enables the feline in question to snuff out and consume the essence of the sleeping, incapacitated, or dying. By nothing more than placing their parted maw of deathly fangs close to the mortal's lips, they may will the victim to death and take from them the breath of life by inhalation. Their lungs filled with this spark, the cat may steal it for themselves - healing mortal illness and injury as well as prolonging their life - or impart this same gift unto another mortal or mythic feline. This essence even carries with it fragments of magic should it be drawn from a magical source.
The flame of life itself is weak outside the body or when contained but unused and the cat must find a home for it within themselves or another before the dawn of a new day. If not, the ethereal mote fades into nothingness within the cat's chest.
Consume Magic There exists few fears that the mortal mind imagines greater than the savage death that can await them in the jaws of a great cat. It is believed among mortals that to consume the fallen is to steal their soul and while this is untrue, felines of power know that there is one thing they can derive from their kills of mortals; magic. Those exposed to its power still shine internally with the faintest elements of its prior existence and those that dabble in its unimagined potency only retain even more of it. To eat them, or to drink their blood, is to steal that same power.
A slain mage, if devoured or drunk by a great cat, imparts upon the consuming beast their magical potential, thus granting the cat a new form of magic that the kill had command over in life. If multiple cats partake, they do not all receive the reward, but instead gain an equal portion. Unlike mortal power, what the feline receives might not be identical to that powers the consumed had...
Eyes of Truth The light in the eyes of a cat are said to dispel lies, deception, illusion and to know what cannot be known in the world of the living. They see into the nature of things for what they are, but not without great power drawn from within. While a flash of their eyes can call up some minor revelation, to pierce illusions, see spirits, reveal the unseen or break a liar's will, they must exhaust themselves mentally and wish to do nothing beyond sleep thereafter. All a cat must do to invoke this gift is stare with the desired intent for a few prolonged moments.
To outsiders, even other cats, the event might be unsettling or even truly frightening; a vengeful spirit forcefully manifest into sight, the destruction of an illusory person or object, the cries of a liar who must confess anything asked of them and beyond.
Ninth Life There exists already a wonder in the way the feline kind survive otherwise assuredly deathly injuries, but mythic cats exceed this further still. A cat may call up from within them the uncanny means to survive a lethal injury, exhausting all of their magical potential for that day and fatiguing themselves to the point of almost fading in and out of consciousness. To those witnessing, some unforeseen means helps them evade what should have been death - a subtle turn to avoid their jugular or a bolt of ice that narrowly misses the heart. Whatever means it is, they cheat death and often leave their attacker stunned in shock.
Unique Gifts These traits might be unique to each great cat rather than all.
Assume Form The shape of the cat is a malleable thing, one that lends itself to transmutation and alteration. This quality, of which a rare few felines ever adopt, allows them to assume a mortal form of their gender. With painful snarls as the body adjusts to match the image in mind, the cat in question can become as outwardly mundane as any man or woman they have witnessed. While the feline may combine the qualities and traits of different men into one, blending them perfectly, this gift comes at a cost. While a mortal, the cat has only the physical means of one, but retains their magical ability as appropriate. For all intents and purposes, the assumed form is entirely and mundanely human.
For those witnessing the assumption or loss of a great cat's assumed form, the experience is horrifying as the body sprouts or loses fur, cracks and contorts, heaves and growls. Worse yet, deeds carried out in a mortal form carry over into the feline one and likewise, thus a female with cub still becomes a pregnant woman in her assumed form; some overt truths cannot be disguised.
Manipulate Object The world even yet finds itself surrounded in an underlying energy that with the correct knowledge can be altered at a distance. As old as cats of myth, this gift has existed and allows a cat to wield fine manipulate through thought alone. No more than thirty paces out, the cat may control with invisible force an object that is unattended and nonliving, such as a sword upon a rack or within a sheath, a door's handle, or the shutters of a house, that they can see. Objects actively wielded by another, such as a staff in hand, cannot be so affected as the resistance of the wielder overcomes the distant mental influence. A cat may not influence any object whose weight is heavier than one tenth the cat's body weight using this power.
That is the intent, but no more than a couple of posts each among players, @ArcaneUnit. The sort of thing wherein there's a period before being summoned, then the characters need post their departures and their arrival to the Calling. The largest issue being, the longer the players are separate, the more likely to stop contributing they are; this I say from experience.
@ArcaneUnit, between you and @The Narrator, I can put up the topic itself while we seek out others. It might be only the three of us for a time, but it is enough of a start. This accounted for, while I discourage "big" small cats such as the cougar, lynx, bob and the like, they are not out of the spectrum. It is by and large intended for those who would play your lions, tigers, jaguars, leopards and other similar sorts.
To answer your question, @The Narrator, the characters are all inherently granted some gifts typically associated with cats in folklore. Beyond this, each will have access to additional forms of magic, but here is an example of one ability all of these beasts have.
Breath of Life It is said with good reason that the inhale of a cat can steal away a mere man's life. This boon enables the feline in question to snuff out and consume the essence of the sleeping, incapacitated, or dying. By nothing more than placing their parted maw of deathly fangs close to the mortal's lips, they may will the victim to death and take from them the breath of life by inhalation. Their lungs filled with this spark, the cat may steal it for themselves - healing mortal illness and injury as well as prolonging their life - or impart this same gift unto another mortal or mythic feline. This essence even carries with it fragments of magic should it be drawn from a magical source.
The flame of life itself is weak outside the body or when contained but unused and the cat must find a home for it within themselves or another before the dawn of a new day. If not, the ethereal mote fades into nothingness within the cat's chest.
The intent is to grant them immensely powerful tools that make them rightfully feared, in addition to their natural weapons.
"I had foreseen the red moon, I have walked in its crimson shadow, I was stained with its life, I am the blood upon the earth."
Introduction
It is that hour of darkness wherein mankind and magic have fallen to the furthest reaches of their despair. That time where the kingdoms of men tear themselves asunder in turmoil and their people repay debts with the last which they have to offer. These wars however, are not of what concerns us, but what these powerful men dive straight into blindly; the very jaws of annihilation. Gaping as they are, these foolish souls seek power which they can no longer so readily tap, just as thirsting as they were before. Where in the time before mages cast spells through a myriad of forms, the ousting of their gods has destroyed their nigh infinite power... and it is for these reasons they have turned to the world as a resource, set to strip away anything and everything they know - we know - to feed their existence.
But we are predators, not prey.
They flense the land for its rarest of riches, those of stone, wood and worse yet, flesh. They have stripped your brothers and sisters bare; the fur torn from their pelt. Their power comes from our power and that of others, gifts that are unique to each, all stolen and twisted to serve mortal magic. Just as quickly and as hungrily one carves their kill, they too pillage their magical reagents. But no more will this be allowed, for we were few, now too fewer yet. We are not alone in our suffering, but there is little for animal, earth or man we can do against these fell minds.
All it is we can do is hunt, just as we always have, but our means are not so limited by numbers. There exists a source of power which we may drink from that they can never truly touch; their own. For each of these monsters of men we destroy, we take from them what was ours all along and with our eventual demises, so too will it return to the earth from which we were formed from. All things will once again be made whole.
But until then, we are the last pride - the one last hope our kind has, lest we become nothing more than the animals they see us as...
Overview
The Last Pride is a savage fantasy roleplay wherein the player characters are some of the last enchanted animals of the entire world, brought together by the mythic Calling of the Cats, a summons that demands all those that can hear it arrive ready with claw and fang to battle. They are faced, as the last pride, with an insurmountable enemy as their foes are not just men, but mages; those who wield the arcane craft as a science or art. Whereas sorcery calls upon a magical spark within, these wizards manipulate their power through immensely rare components, words and gestures... some of the greatest of which call for the harvesting of obscure resources; thousands of coin in diamond, years of growth for a flower's petal, or worse yet - portions of scarce living things.
It is a time of turmoil where kings and their council struggle against those others of the land in the wake of the loss of their gods. No longer hearing their voices, answers to their prayers, or signs of their deeds, they run scared with little insight beyond their mystic viziers' knowledge. The world itself, no less, descends into a period of extended darkness where the daylight lasts shorter than ever before and great illness has blanketed the mortal world with plagues. Creatures of strange origin, monstrous things, lurk in the darkness or even the day, some merely only horrific but others truly diabolical.
The last pride however, holds one great boon over their enemies, for just as any predator partakes in the food their kill provides, these fierce things draw upon magical essence to expand their own. But for now, these great cats of many different spots or stripes and walks of life face their first challenge in their calling. Rare as they are, they are forced to work together, as their enemy is a king driven mad by want of a breath of life to extend his coming end. The only thing with such a gift?
All of them.
Information
This roleplay is intended to have three to four other players who are comfortable with a Casual-to-Advanced work and able to portray realistic individuals, specifically big cats granted magical boons. There is no collaborative posting or use of colored font permitted. This plot, as strange as it might be, is intended to be played entirely straight; it is not a comedy or to be taken lightly. The only limits imposed on graphicness are those of "Sense of Decency" standards that the Guild as a whole abides by. Players have a maximum of forty-eight hours to post unless they make an announcement of a delay otherwise.
Disclaimer: The above interest check is the result of delirium brought on by dark dreams, fatigue, feline fascination and an undetermined amount of influential material both physical and potentially chemical. It is intended to be a bleak fantasy made up of mature roleplayers who hold a credible amount of understanding on the matters of sword and sorcery and savage animal tendencies; it is not a story for those who think it will be a lighthearted romp full of adorable, furry woodland creatures and men in pointed hats across a fantastic world of fiery dragons. A character in this setting is a killer, through and through, fed by the work of their red claws and fangs. Nature is inherently violent but not without reason. You will kill creatures, and mortals, badly. This is a setting about hunting spellcasters.
If you are not fond of felines and cannot imagine playing an intelligent beast with vicious unnatural potential waging war against the mortal world, you should look for another roleplay. You are not the "good guy" in this story, not the "bad guy" either; you are an animal, a magical beast, whose very existence is threatened by powerful men who either seek to capture, corrupt, or destroy you. The only blows being pulled here are those the Guild mandates, meaning it is going to be fairly descript without being excessive. Death isn't finality for a character, but it won't be fun coming back... at least not much more fun than dying is in the first place.
If you disagreed with any of the much above, turn away.
[center][h3][color=f7941d]The Harbinger of Ferocity[/color][/h3]
[img]http://orig13.deviantart.net/79bb/f/2016/137/d/8/final__small__by_argentfatalis-da2um2l.jpg[/img]
[color=f7941d][i]Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine[/i][/color]
[i]Nature, red in tooth and claw.[/i]
[b]"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."[/b]
[i]- Carl Van Vechten[/i]
[i]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.[/i]
[i]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.[/i][/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#f7941d">The Harbinger of Ferocity</font></div><br><img src="http://orig13.deviantart.net/79bb/f/2016/137/d/8/final__small__by_argentfatalis-da2um2l.jpg" /><br><font color="#f7941d"><span class="bb-i">Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine</span></font><br><span class="bb-i">Nature, red in tooth and claw.</span><br><br><span class="bb-b">"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."</span><br><span class="bb-i">- Carl Van Vechten</span><br><br><span class="bb-i">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.</span><br><br><span class="bb-i">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.</span></div></div>
Vixere
Captain Uni
parelaxis
Passable Writer
rush99999
Nightwing95