The notion of danger within the United States is vastly overblown by unreliable media and its agendas. Much of what you are seeing is not a reflection of the events that are actually taking place. You are much better off ignoring any news agency and pursuing topics under your own accord. Not claiming I am an expert on those matters, but from a fair breadth of experience I can tell you it is the typical fear mongering and willful exploitation of culture and identity issues.
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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6 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
Whatever had been here has been lost to time...
An unfortunate reality, @VATROU, @Carantathraiel. It was one of those things you just accept and know going in before it even transpires in the first place. As for the Guild's Discord? I am deeply displeased with the idea and how it has been employed. It has essentially virtually replicated some of the negative behaviors here, transposed them entirely, or just spread them (really those to blame for them) further.
A good idea, but the execution needs be ironed out and harshly.
A good idea, but the execution needs be ironed out and harshly.
I make appearances now and then on Discord, very true at that. But the cats? Sadly the tiger passed away, but he was fairly old and it was time for him to move on. The lion and lioness, brother and sister, are quite youthful and spry; the former is a bit intimidated by me whereas the latter tries to spend all her time interacting.
Carver kept his distance through and through, but it showed here. He let Chris lead, as the man seemed prone to do, but it was only now that more evidence of the strange man betrayed itself to Piper, of all people. As she followed, gaining a strange look from the other deputy who was just a moment before busying herself with paperwork at her rundown desk. However, given the younger woman's company of the veterinarian and the drifter, there wasn't any apprehensiveness outside the look... and that's when she saw it; a distinctive silhouette hung briefly over Carver's hip at the inside of the waistband, concealed only by the man's shirt and jacket.
When he paused, coming to a slow halt, he observed the two's exchange and back to Deputy Trish, but in this slight motion there was the boxy frame of a handgun. Either the sheriff's deputies weren't aware or very much were, but either way it added only to the mystery. In a subtle motion, his hand brushed the overcoat aside and it vanished from sight, hidden once more.
"...but you’re probably not going to like the conclusion I come to. Based on what Carver’s been telling me, you’ve been given a relatively similar conclusion from various different sources. Do you still have the pictures?”
It was now the outsider looked back to the woman trailing him, motioning for her to follow with a faint gesture of his head. There was no delay with that, not even as the two men exchanged glares, and they proceeded into the evidence room. The older deputy, fumbling with his keys, paid no heed to the addition either, but things were going to turn far stranger yet... more uncomfortable, more unsettling.
The pictures Chris had been requested to take during his stints with the county were not pretty. They were a bit gruesome to say the least, the best description one could conjure up being similar to the attacks a rabid chimpanzee might inflict; the people weren't just beaten, clawed or bit to death, they were mauled. That's what made it so off - none of the dentition fit wolves, nothing had been eaten, there was less blood then there should've been and in all truth, it seemed to be something a person could do. But how? Barring that, why? Jennings had no real crime to speak of and the sheriff was away, the two deputies hadn't seen anything like it, and there was no precedence for it. The people were just outside at dusk, which came early this time of year, but that was neither here nor there by comparison.
The deputy kept his eyes away as it visibly didn't sit well with the man.
Carver meanwhile, proved to lay them out in a orderly manner that reflected how Chris had worked with them. For as mangled as they appeared, he hadn't much a reaction beyond the occasional hesitation and obvious efforts of psychological disassociation. The man, for what he was worth, did his best to continue not knowing whoever these people were. It made it easier when it wasn't personal, truth be told.
"Cutter went out for a bit, said he," The deputy said, keeping to himself in the corner and setting the keys to his hip but pausing momentarily mid sentence, " - said he'd be back later. Some time after when we got you all here and we gave him a call. That said uh, you might as well help yourself..."
The man deflected, fingers tracing the seam of his pant's pocket in visible discomfort. The tan and brown uniforms, as distinct as they were, just added to the effect that these officers weren't the police, let alone beat cops. Seeing people killed was one thing, seeing them savaged was another. They were archaic and almost out of another time previously with their widely brimmed campaign hats and penchant for gold colored affixtures to their uniforms. It was then Pierce gave an awkward, but attempted reassuring smile to Piper while skirting toward the door.
@RedXCross@Kidd
When he paused, coming to a slow halt, he observed the two's exchange and back to Deputy Trish, but in this slight motion there was the boxy frame of a handgun. Either the sheriff's deputies weren't aware or very much were, but either way it added only to the mystery. In a subtle motion, his hand brushed the overcoat aside and it vanished from sight, hidden once more.
"...but you’re probably not going to like the conclusion I come to. Based on what Carver’s been telling me, you’ve been given a relatively similar conclusion from various different sources. Do you still have the pictures?”
It was now the outsider looked back to the woman trailing him, motioning for her to follow with a faint gesture of his head. There was no delay with that, not even as the two men exchanged glares, and they proceeded into the evidence room. The older deputy, fumbling with his keys, paid no heed to the addition either, but things were going to turn far stranger yet... more uncomfortable, more unsettling.
The pictures Chris had been requested to take during his stints with the county were not pretty. They were a bit gruesome to say the least, the best description one could conjure up being similar to the attacks a rabid chimpanzee might inflict; the people weren't just beaten, clawed or bit to death, they were mauled. That's what made it so off - none of the dentition fit wolves, nothing had been eaten, there was less blood then there should've been and in all truth, it seemed to be something a person could do. But how? Barring that, why? Jennings had no real crime to speak of and the sheriff was away, the two deputies hadn't seen anything like it, and there was no precedence for it. The people were just outside at dusk, which came early this time of year, but that was neither here nor there by comparison.
The deputy kept his eyes away as it visibly didn't sit well with the man.
Carver meanwhile, proved to lay them out in a orderly manner that reflected how Chris had worked with them. For as mangled as they appeared, he hadn't much a reaction beyond the occasional hesitation and obvious efforts of psychological disassociation. The man, for what he was worth, did his best to continue not knowing whoever these people were. It made it easier when it wasn't personal, truth be told.
"Cutter went out for a bit, said he," The deputy said, keeping to himself in the corner and setting the keys to his hip but pausing momentarily mid sentence, " - said he'd be back later. Some time after when we got you all here and we gave him a call. That said uh, you might as well help yourself..."
The man deflected, fingers tracing the seam of his pant's pocket in visible discomfort. The tan and brown uniforms, as distinct as they were, just added to the effect that these officers weren't the police, let alone beat cops. Seeing people killed was one thing, seeing them savaged was another. They were archaic and almost out of another time previously with their widely brimmed campaign hats and penchant for gold colored affixtures to their uniforms. It was then Pierce gave an awkward, but attempted reassuring smile to Piper while skirting toward the door.
@RedXCross@Kidd
As of now? Quite well, @Carantathraiel. It had been a while since I commented here.
Always pleasing to see progress so rapidly evolve. On a more related note, greetings - it has been a while.
Good news to hear then, @Hekazu. As for the story itself, I was uncertain if the soldier was unconscious or not, so I left it a bit ambiguous in this case.
Watching as the man scribed the answers he so sought, there was a lull in conversation for a moment; the captain had done something to garner the elf's attention and she pried with just as much point and forwardness as one of her arrows. The other man proved to shake his head, gathering his tools and ink while heading off again. Perhaps there was some sort of formality that he expected in particular, maybe he was not fond of the ranger or the half orc-blooded warrior, or mayhap it was all born of this city's siege. Regardless of what it was, Brannor could not hold it against him - at least not now. If there was time or opportunity, the huntsman would rather be enjoying a strong mead, ale or even wine and songs strung upon a lute if his bloodied fist could get ahold of it at the moment; everyone present had some issue to contend with and in some shade.
Brannor's eye however, caught sight a dwarf whose trim and dress were thick with primal garb, by no means light statements either. He appeared and disappeared as quickly as he could, busied by some matter and rightfully so given today; the stout man's mantle of furs and hide speaking to the spirit-warrior. It was an odd sense of familiarity, even through the dim light that the powerful human's eyes cut through. There were those who belonged here, some more than others, then those who clearly did not.
What had attracted so many wildmen or soldiers of the wilderness to Greenest? Was it the same calling and draw? Certainly they were all quite different, but all similar be them the huntress with her bow or the savage with his spears and broad blades. At least there existed some sense of union among them in that. Some safety normally forfeit.
"I could have been sure that big monk man was here just a moment ago... well, if you catch him before I'm back they should be able to show the way. Not a part of the guard, that man, but they've been helping like they were. And if you could carry private Slackman with you... that would be appreciated."
Brannor provided a slight nod of his head to the guardsman, looking to his other cohorts and the staggered soldier. To his heart, he felt that the man should be able to see himself to the quarters; he had earned as much to not limp or lag about from his fatigue and sufferings. Owing to this, the man in green cloak drew near the soldier, presenting a gloved palm. Brannor laid it upon him without further word and again small vapors of white essence tugged themselves into reality at his fingers into the point of contact; far more verdant and vibrant emerald at their source, they dissipated into ever whitening wisps and the new light source vanished, the sturdy stone walls turning dimly lit once more.
It was a taxing thing to endure, to try to will a part of one's soul into a channel for the world divine, but it was a worthy burden to bear. Rewarding at that no less, the sort of means to stay the hand of death and turn back those who abused its power. If the man wasn't fully awake already, there would be no doubt now that he felt reinvigorated once more.
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Raijinslayer@Phoenix
Brannor's eye however, caught sight a dwarf whose trim and dress were thick with primal garb, by no means light statements either. He appeared and disappeared as quickly as he could, busied by some matter and rightfully so given today; the stout man's mantle of furs and hide speaking to the spirit-warrior. It was an odd sense of familiarity, even through the dim light that the powerful human's eyes cut through. There were those who belonged here, some more than others, then those who clearly did not.
What had attracted so many wildmen or soldiers of the wilderness to Greenest? Was it the same calling and draw? Certainly they were all quite different, but all similar be them the huntress with her bow or the savage with his spears and broad blades. At least there existed some sense of union among them in that. Some safety normally forfeit.
"I could have been sure that big monk man was here just a moment ago... well, if you catch him before I'm back they should be able to show the way. Not a part of the guard, that man, but they've been helping like they were. And if you could carry private Slackman with you... that would be appreciated."
Brannor provided a slight nod of his head to the guardsman, looking to his other cohorts and the staggered soldier. To his heart, he felt that the man should be able to see himself to the quarters; he had earned as much to not limp or lag about from his fatigue and sufferings. Owing to this, the man in green cloak drew near the soldier, presenting a gloved palm. Brannor laid it upon him without further word and again small vapors of white essence tugged themselves into reality at his fingers into the point of contact; far more verdant and vibrant emerald at their source, they dissipated into ever whitening wisps and the new light source vanished, the sturdy stone walls turning dimly lit once more.
It was a taxing thing to endure, to try to will a part of one's soul into a channel for the world divine, but it was a worthy burden to bear. Rewarding at that no less, the sort of means to stay the hand of death and turn back those who abused its power. If the man wasn't fully awake already, there would be no doubt now that he felt reinvigorated once more.
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Raijinslayer@Phoenix
You can expect a post from me this coming evening.
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