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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.
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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

A lot more of that, by which I mean even people who are not fond of the President of the United States, yet still are authorities on the matter, admit he is doing something right. There is no possible way the media is attempting to portray the corruption there as his fault, using artificial narratives to make Donald Trump play the part of the fool. But yes, let us sit back and criticize the man instead of looking at the reaction of the people there to him. All of those smiling faces really exemplify the hate people have for him, do they not? He must be the absolute worst, zero-of-ten, for his response to all these natural disasters. It must have been the paper towels that were the tipping point.
The Vale
The Crypt,
Currently


The ancient spirit obliged the young man's command with all the force and fury expected with a soldier of this sacred ground in this realm of battle. Drawing back its fist, using the bow as a shield across its body, it struck with a tremendous hooking punch; all of its weight into the blow, pivoting on its plate and rotted fur boot. Cesar, perhaps not expecting his words to have nearly as much authority and awesome power as they did, took the full brunt of the swing to his shoulder. Pain, emptiness, then action poured out from him as his senses were called to the forefront, especially as his body turned and began to lean further and further back, the rest of the bludgeoning fist sailing just inches from his face as he dodged what only would have been a more brutal blow.

Leaning so far back as he was, supported only by his legs, the sword Jarlbane rest against his chest until he snapped back up with more vigor than he had somehow already displayed. The armored spirit, its ghastly face peering from behind the helm, vanished again - not seemingly aware of what a tremendous feat of skill the man displayed in not being thrown violently to the ground from such a mighty, unexpected punch; the bard might not have looked it outwardly, but inwardly he was far more sturdy than just that.

"Yes, yes, brother!" The body beside Bolivar cheered, raising his shield to deflect a blow from the other attacker then side stepping yet another - the point of a javelin lashing out at him. Deftly fighting, the pair seemed to have wholly preoccupied the two foes at the end of the hallway, just before the mouth of the doors and another set of steps leading downward into a dark unknown.

Not alone himself Valmjr, with the aid of Hela, ably dueled his own enemy; his strike bouncing off the armored plate, clipping bits of the decayed hide straps from it, he could anticipate the enemy's attack. Soon the sword came, then again, the first far too close for comfort and the second well beyond the foe's reach. As it were really, this combat was as familiar as it could be - the endless sparring he had endured and seemingly endless days preparing for battle with his brothers - for both better and worse. Nothing unexpected was to come, but at the same time, his heart still held that recollection that these were his own; the honored dead, no less! What a thrill to fight such unspoken heroes, yet what pain to do so when they do not even truly recognize him or his unquestionable mission!

Floundering, as Birbin was prone to do for a tiny man of great passion and kindness but little skill, he raised a single hand again and gestured by his hip with another, bringing up some sort of arcane energy from the air and ground. A familiar purple glow illuminated from the lower gesturing hand, wisping around his body and soon flew like a bolt out toward the unliving soldier of Ysgard responsible for striking the fire-heart bard. It struck with perfect accuracy, something magic oft did, but whatever was to have happened seemed to do... nothing, nothing at all.

"They won't fall for tricks! Mind-magic is no good!" He hastily said, not even sure as to what that meant himself.


@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Rig
Yes, they confirmed their own reporting, which is not unexpected in the slightest. They made a claim and are choosing to dedicate to it, to which I might add is almost assuredly a losing battle. On a tangent however, I severely doubt this was an act of the media to "know the standards of what is presidential", so to speak. If there is a group of people that haven't any idea what that is, that is the mainstream media, who have been so downgraded that some of them are now seated in the back rows of the foreign press section; that is the level of incompetence and lack of credibility they have shelved and resigned themselves to. This is utterly ignoring that the backing person in question is a known enemy of the President of the United States and his administration, which creates a bit of conflict of interest, but the short can be summed up with this:

"I'm not the only person that was in the car, and I have proof, too. This man is a sick man," she said. "I have no reason to lie on the president of the United States with a dead soldier in my community."
Representative Wilson

Which is competing with this:

Later Wednesday, White House Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders said there were no recordings of the call, but explained that Trump's "proof" amounted to there having been "several people in the room from the administration that were on the call, including Chief of Staff John Kelly."

By quality of claim alone, and that if it were to be hypothetically investigated, the statements of those in the office with President Trump are likely to be of greater magnitude and credibility, let alone number. I am going to err on the previously demonstrated examples and contrary claims by others that this is nothing more than a swipe at the President using a proxy - the widow - in order to distract from the fact that bigger things are bubbling up from the depths of the swamp.
They are character statements and supporting evidence, word against word as it were, @POOHEAD189. Is it not a bit odd that not a single other person is corroborating this story and that by and large, everything is contrarian to what is being told? It is almost as if there's a motive here to spin the truth in a favorable direction.

And do trust me, I am very keenly aware of those we lost and the way one of them is being exploited by the media to further their narrative. In fact, let's put a picture up of these men.

@POOHEAD189, @Dynamo Frokane

We are downgrading this from fake news to very fake news. So fake that it might hurt, yet that is what happens when you are attempting to run a smear campaign. But certainly, let us attempt to exploit tragedy with feigned "outrage" over a comment that is totally unverified and goes against what is accepted as the general practice of a person's business, let alone supposed proof.

There's no way this can possibly be a distraction from all of this, which seems to be the Russia we were looking for. @mdk's link is down, but do not worry, there's plenty of it circulating at the moment. I am certain the mainstream media will be right on that; they are well known for their honesty, believe me.
The Vale
The Crypt,
Currently


The spectres, no more faces of death and but only ancient hide, steel and leather, immediately brought their arms to bear and advanced. Not with any semblance of coordination, rather just purpose; they seemed not to display anything other than their obsessive need to fulfill their purpose here as the crypt's wardens. So single-minded was it that they heard not the reason of Valmjr and feared not the sword of Cesar Bolivar, the latter's whose blade - wreathed in magic - echoed off the breastplate of the first armored body to meet him and the words of the former not even eliciting a response from any.

Of the two figures before the sailor, the lead one drew back with its sword and, with ethereal grace in spite of its bulky armor, swung deftly. For a moment the spirit possessing the suit glinted into existence and winked out, the blade it bore missing the man as he hastily stepped back to avoid the impending strike. Yet, just as the tipsy bard thought himself safe, the edge wheeled back with astounding speed only to miss again by the grace of the light. At least now it proved these crypt keepers were not to be taken lightly, to which Valmjr had almost assuredly known before; anyone or anything set to defend this tomb was, undoubtedly, a skilled warrior in life.

The second soldiering suit of armor, one made up of decayed hide, lifted its axe and brought it toward the Ysgardian with all force its unbodied self could manage; ready as he was, Valmjr's own axe Hela caught the blow and shrugged aside the attack like a steel bear. Carrying through, the broad, twin-headed weapon careened aside, only for the hide gloves wielding it to change its trajectory and swing again. As with the many matches the arcane warrior had in bouts of battle throughout his mysterious life, he was more than prepared for the methodical, relentless manner in which the spirits fought. They hadn't that glimmer of life to them any longer, no unpredictability, no surprise.

However, the last two of the guardians - those nearest the doors at the end of the musty hall - armed themselves with a handful of javelins, arrows and a bow. Birbin was quick to note this and with the alacrity of any keen gnomish mind, began a spell. Muttering and drawing his hands out and up before him, crafting something in his mind's eye and with fingers outstretched mimicking that shape, he conjured up a shimmering image that wavered like heat until it became quite real; a soldier of some sort, dressed in much the same armor as the phantoms albeit far more alive and youthful. Without delay, the new ally roared to life with a battle cry and prepared his axe.

"Joyous combat, friends!" His bearded mouth grinned as the two foes beside him were forced to contend with his presence.


@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Rig
There was a certain style the game had throughout and up until the release of Cataclysm, which was to say the old world. Certain mechanics I am familiar to and was fond of - paladin seals were iconic, rogues having to craft various poisons and harvest them, hunters having to find just the perfect animal companion of the type they wanted, having to time and check your pulls so you did not attract too many enemies, the pace of combat tended to be much slower - so they hold a special place in this feline's memory. Initially, when I first began, I knew so little of the game that I wandered and leveled by grinding, killing monsters which I was a bit stronger than and doing the odd quest I could figure out, selling the rest of the scrap and any loot on the auction house. This pattern of behavior actually allowed me to purchase not only a mount, but an epic mount as a nobody; I had stumbled into a taste of success. That only grew when the Burning Crusade was released and I discovered what raiding actually was. I shelved my druid then for a time, which was to say a mistake.

In general, older Warcraft felt more gritty and atmospheric, much more open too. I suppose this can be best described with massive locations in the old incarnation as with the Barrens, the Plaguelands, Stranglethorn Vale and so on. It was a slow going pace and you were just expected to discover things on your own and bring a party or friend wherever you could. Talents allowed you to, through even a bit of trial and error, figure out what a character was to even be.

As for Dungeons and Dragons, they made a variant of the game that used rules and lore from Warcraft. Warcraft itself has a great number of obvious inspirational choices based off the game, just as the same could be said for the DOOM franchise.
This is perhaps the one opportunity I will be able to post a relevant cat meme, of which is courtesy of Julian Assange.

HWNDU chapter 7 is happening. Let's see how long it takes them to get it this time.


That means a new Internet Historian episode is to be released in the future as well. What a great series this has been thus far. Better than anything you could pay to see, I think. In fact, the second chapter I at one point was right by - too bad at the time I wasn't familiar to the events and that it was taking place there. A bit disappointing, I might say.
The Vale
The Crypt,
Currently


A tremendous echo booms throughout the Hall from below, to which all can hear. The sound ripples, but dares not disturb anything in the process, not even the dust. Valmjr is able to pull open both doors, to which swing wide out in front of him and his two cohorts, only to see that the stones leading down are flanked by ritual tables, adorned with ancient armor, weapons, trinkets and treasures. No material wealth seems to be here, not a single ounce of gold, but almost immediately bones wrapped in burial shrouds can be seen.

Before anything can be done, the again deathly still air ripples to life as a band of four phantoms, likely defenders of the tomb based upon their Ysgardian wear, manifest. The arms and armor upon the tables cling to them, although their bodies are hollow and near impossible to discern, making them floating shells of sorts. They immediately sought to brandish their weapons with spectral hands that soon faded to absolute nothingness.

"What have you done, brother? These are not Ysgardians. They will steal our secrets!" Some indistinct, wavering voice called from where none could say.

Birbin's eyes grew round and large, larger than before as he realized these relics of the past had not an inkling of sympathy for the plight they were engaged in here against the darkness; the spirits, now just levitating armor, seemed to have no other intent but to defend the crypts. Almost assured that their presence, of whom were not from the realm, offended the ward and summoned them here as it were, but even with a scrutinizing glance, their arms and armor bore fresh wear...

This wasn't the first fight in recent times the spectres had.


@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Rig
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