Status

Recent Statuses

6 yrs ago
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.

Most Recent Posts

Thank you for updating the main piece to include the new characters, @Ermine! You certainly did not disappoint in making it a good read. I am curious what @Monster, @Mesonyx and @CaughtInTheRiddle have in mind for their submissions, especially with the option of now knowing @JBRam2002's Draj from the start.
Now we all see the source of the delay, @Ermine. There is no hiding from us.
Yes, while this I understand was not their function, it did have some effect especially in the question posed about which was in general superior protection between plate or scale, @pugbutter. Plate was significantly harder to damage, deform or destroy overall was the gist of it, just what damage it suffered in the process had different outcomes.
It is not so much the shedding issue as much as it is they are assuming you are going to devour them, @JBRam2002. Have people not looked at themselves? I do not eat junk food.
@BrokenPromise, from what I have understood the plate was harder to penetrate in general and both were still vulnerable to blunt and bludgeoning weapons or, more specifically those that focused down into points. The plate because it would bend, deform and limit mobility as it attempted to deflect or reduce blows, or even worse, shred into its wearer if the hit was well placed and now act as exposed, sharp steel to already wounded flesh, and the scale because it offered not an ounce more of credible protection against it despite the design attempts to dampen the shockwave of the impact such as by backing the material or the scale itself in general.
I was aware they do not counter every strain, but they are, at least in their current incarnation designed to help stimulate the natural immune response to a heightened level and encode it with the likely threats it is facing. With regard to the people who become ill after receiving them, that is a fairly normal response that they receive a very mild case of the illness or similar effect. It really depends upon the culture used as some are still partially alive but in limited quantities or are sterilized and dead as you said. I have still managed to never fall ill to it; the last thing that I was actually incapacitated by was poisoning, which was an interesting experience to say the least.

Either way I, as someone forced to spend extended periods with people much to my chagrin, am not fond of people being ill ever and am just fairly unsympathetic to begin with. The sort of scenario where I find myself asking, "Why are you here when you are sick? All you are going to do is contaminate everything and force me to clean it twice in one day."

And yes, I am one of those who avoid hospitals not because of any distrust of medicine, something I am somewhat trained in, but because there are ill people there and the atmosphere is exceedingly unsettling.
Watching the small woman intently the outlander paid no immediate mind to the familiar footfall and voice that arrived behind him while he stood low to the ground, attempting to understand the halfling's wounded person; there were two other sets of boots, metallic ones like the other guardsmen, that had accompanied the governor to his ascent here. While these added persons were new to what it was Brannor had witnessed previously in their meetings tonight, they were of no concern for the moment. As it was they all smelled of men, not a single one of them having that pungent, offensive odor the kobolds or the larger draconic beast they fought in the port carried.

So, as she was his focus, he paid her mind rather than diverting his attention. Parum's soft blue eyes appeared just as wide even now after their short reprieve, while the rest of her took deep breaths into her tiny chest and managed her internalized fears. Slinking away some she wiped her lips, speaking to him after as he remained not far and still undisturbed from his initial position.

"Hello Brannor. I'm sorry, I just... I just need some time alone."

"Parum, I..." Brannor trailed off, searching for his words when the governor spoke, shifting the man's glance back to the source of the sound.

"Ah, you are here. I was considering to send someone looking for you. Come with me onto the roof of this tower, if you would. And if you know where to look for the cleric that was with you, they are welcome as well."

The moment of outreach faded as duty called, or rather asked of them now again; Brannor was an outsider, not only to Greenest but the civilized world as a whole. It had been years, more than he could accurately recall as he tracked the passage of time by the moons, since he rested more than a few days in any one village or town. Never before had he so much as offered his assistance either, but tonight what else was he to have done? The deepest portions of what made up his essence, his very soul pulled him in this direction in compulsion he could not deny - all they had done had to have been for something, was that clear only to him? He needed to restore Parum's focus, really her hope and her heart.

Without another word however, before he could so much as hope to respond, the young woman turned and started her way up the stairs behind the entourage, leaving the hunter crouched upon the floor with his aged cloak draped across his shoulders. It was an uncomfortable, unwelcome feeling that came to him when she walked away. The anger within him found no hold upon his thoughts of her, but instead the invaders.

Parum was one small example, as was the mad half blood, the traveled elder, or the green priestess each in their own right. Yet, in comparison to them all, it was how they stole away her heart the most that drew his ire and caused the beast within to come alive; Brannor did not carry his distinct weapon just for the pleasure of swordplay, but because it allowed him a focus to channel that divine, primal wrath through as another conduit. It enabled him to characterize that fury into something and both in figurative and literal sense, cut down that which he instinctively loathed. That realization of seeing her so distraught, how she turned away from his willingness to understand her plight, added incentive to kill everyone and everything that dared consort with the dragon.

He rose unerringly to his natural posture after, now better understanding the effect this raid had on those even less hardened than her - why it was important for him to see the young woman this way.

"I understand now, Parum." Brannor's voice said in a softened tone.

Once he looked out the doorway to the ramparts, then to the winding path the others took to the area above. The hunter reached for the holy woman's name in memory, finding nothing to latch on upon at first; like a cliff face that had given away and now left bare stone in place of holds. It took him walking to the rampart again where he had initially set off to see her and call out to her in deep tone.

"Priestess, we have been summoned."

Kyra was her name, difficult as that was to recall having known her for less than an hour, as the most his mind thought of her in reflection was how her divine matron provided her blessing and the familiar yet strangely off the blessing she provided was. Putting a face to the name again outside the chaos of battle alleviated this issue some, but it would take effort to recall, more so now that the large knight the wild felt the longing for the hunt again already. The reinforcement of her and her person was what he thought of as he advanced up the steps and loomed not far from Governor Nighthill and the others as they overlooked the keep and the smoldering fires that dotted Greenest.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen
Awaiting @Ryonara's response before I will attempt to move the side scene on to the governor.

As an edit after the fact, I apologize if the character development I keep working on with Brannor is uninteresting. It is mostly my endeavor to give him evolving motivation and companionship toward the party, hence why my posts might be long. It also helps that the other characters are interesting enough to actually care about, something I find rare in many games.
You would be correct, @Ermine. As for my submission, I hope those answers give you a bit more insight as you had hoped.
What amazes me is that anyone contracts the flu whatsoever anymore, but I suppose there are those who do not receive their immunizations or are willing to work when they feel ill, especially during seasons of sickness. And you best be around more, @Carantathraiel! I missed this topic.
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet