Current
Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
4 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
5 yrs ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
5 yrs ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
5 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.
Perhaps the one defining reason I choose to roleplay is, is that I enjoy forging stories, be them characters or worlds, not just as a writer but as an individual bound to creative bias as a whole. I intend and desire to work words into a product, an identity and concept to be portrayed by in some cases and in others, just a means to an end to put forward underlying thought processes. There is no avoiding this for me, as in many cases they are distorted, mirrored reflections of myself or those I know in person and always have been; so long that as far as I can remember, I have been putting forth stories and lore since early youth. Some have evolved, others fell away as the depth of content and material became too deep, although most are still there at their core.
Involving others, however? It makes for poorer quality to lack other perspectives and personalities beyond those I hold domain over. No less, a story without an audience of sorts, or even participants, makes for a very empty tale. Who is to learn or gain anything from it that the author would not already? More can and should be done with it, thus it becomes a point to make it an interactive adventure.
Far later this evening I will have a response, @Hekazu. Would an Insight and or Wisdom check be a reasonable attempt to discern what exactly is going on beyond just what little we know? It seems as though they were some how sporadically alerted.
Between the two attacks if the women, the only one that forced the mystic warrior to contend with it's consequence was that of the lithe monk, her claws at the ready after they struck across his face. It upset his furred crest some, knocking the fallen beast's toothy muzzle to the side in the process, but did more to distract the bearer of the sacred garment than anything else. With one hand he adjusted it and in the other, he thunderously cried out with animal rage - the unchained wrath of the wild that had originally been set for the bard who now sought to tamper with the unknowable fire.
The faint green flames of burning ether radiated across the sword and with a swing at a cross angle directed high, the leading edge of the blade caught the defender across her body. With a flash of ghost-light the vengeful attack returned and shed its luminescence across her; Katia, just as Theodore experienced before when this had been done, the odd familiarity of the Kingdom of Light's power as interpreted by their enemy. Sadly, she took the brunt of a far more powerful attack not intended for her at first in the process.
A loud pling echoed in the wake of the attack, the templar's bolt shattering into pieces as it broke upon the armored back of the man; bits of splinter from the newest hole in the old green cloak rained down upon the floor, but the man was off again with unchecked tenacity. It was increasingly clear anything and everything within his reach that was his enemy was a target and as he rushed by the reeling panther-woman, he acted again on this rampant impulse.
Another lash of the sword and the magister of many schools was soon too struck, the man responsible building combat momentum as he exploited every opportunity to attack. His assault moved with him as he carried on, summoning the energy and breath to speak as he continued toward the bard and the place of flame, now at a steady advance as he cast a greater, trailing shadow before the golden fire as he closed.
"You dare cast the Shadow behind your beloved Light, then have the audacity to bring it here? Your War of Light and Darkness ends now! Ysgard and all the Planes shall not suffer your intrusion, just as they did not of your gods so long ago! Begone!"
The Green Man carved the air before him with the sword before rolling it over in a circle with a practiced motion of his wrist. His hand tightened and he stood more straight than ever before, his composure having been regained and no longer a thrall to the power he tapped into. "The other wanted Darkness, you want Light, but neither... neither can be allowed to have this world." His voice grew low as he approached the sailor, a tone only he could make out clearly.
The Green Man, in place of using his Smite on Cesar as he had hoped, is forced to attack Katia. He succeeds in doing so, delivering 9 points of slashing damage and 15 points of radiant damage. He then makes an attack against Wick, again striking her, but for only 11 slashing damage and conserving his dwindling magical stock.
He again provokes opportunity attacks from the two as he pursues Cesar.
Due to technical difficulties, the map cannot be updated at this time. Use your best judgment and imagination.
Based upon some dialogue and actions ongoing in the upper tiers of the current administration, whisperings here and there I have read, the cult of Scientology might not be long in the United States, @Dynamo Frokane. There are a great number of raids that are increasingly being carried out in pretty awing subtlety on various dark corners that are those abusive, vile or twisted secret groups. I would not be surprised if in the next few years they become hemmed up by the federal government on unrelated charges that bring to light all of the atrocities we do know and many others that were hidden away.
At this rate pushing things forward is for the best, that I would have to agree on. I am not entirely certain as to what we are to be doing in the camp, but I assume we are to spring the prisoner from his prison... reasoning that we ever manage to find it. That probably indicates, or so I imagine the writers intended, we were to be mostly together or as much as we could pass for.
If anything else of interest arises while our paladin continues the work, do let me know, @Hekazu. Be it overhearing some of the cultists, the prisoners, the strange boxes perhaps having been broken by accident. Anything and everything is an opportunity at this point.
The huntsman, feigning captive as he was, shared an off glance with the small woman that turned out to indeed be Parum and something of interest sparked in her eyes. She hesitated, almost paused for a moment as they looked to one another then went on with her business, back wherever it seems she had come from; Brannor reasoned this to be near where they had dismissed him from. But to what ends? It seemed plausible she had learned something, yet at this moment had no opportunity to share it or split the savage warrior from the work detail he was placed in without arousing suspicion. Such a case was what the man took as truth more than anything, the theorizing and hypotheticals of what the rest found themselves to neither his business or interest, rather that she seemed to have gleaned something and just had not the chance to intervene.
What was confirmed to him was that the moment he had the opportunity, he would prefer to put his armored hands upon more of these pathetic creatures' thin necks and seize the life from them. Not because he had any particular malice, these tiny dragon things and their servants seemed like any other quarry outwardly, rather he would not be troubled or trespassed upon by their vileness and latent evil. This cult made a terrible mistake upon raiding Greenest and simply vanishing as they did, so the sooner the blade could be swung to hew their scouts and their numbers - to send a message they had crossed a line - the better. If only the town itself had at last sent messengers out, not that they would return soon by any means, no more than a day being past, but hunting even a small army was a suicidal task by its self; he could kill them when and where they slept, when their backs were laid bare and they thought themselves safe, skulking about outside the firelight as a true monster, a terror they should well know, but not as their great number here and not now.
They still needed this monk, for reasons the man could not remember despite having ample time between moving crates and apparent loot. In fact, the entirety of that exchange was now a hazy, distorted memory, one possessed of restrained and wavering fury, the tail end of an avalanche or the last flickers of a wildfire. Certainly they were mighty when enflamed or rolling, but having survived a would-be death only to wake to an intruder whilst in its thrall made for confusing thoughts. Perhaps his mind would be clearer when the darkness of night would fall, when these dragon cultists would become still; then too might it be he had an opportunity to seek his answers out, or better yet, the others have already done so...
"You are as much fools as the one before you, filled with nonsensical ideas of what is 'good' and what is 'evil'!"
The enchanted weapon bound with primeval magic, moved with the astoundingly spry attacker as he spun to face the shooter. Closing in with an assaulting step, he landed a blow against the woman and changed the direction of the sweeping strike which then fell upon the armor of the zealot. Both of them felt the wash of life seep from them, wounds that only some time ago would have been followed by blood and pain, but instead only that tapping of spirit. It was eerie as ever, unnerving by any implication, as was the fate of things that fell in battle. What if the opposing man-at-arms and his savage magic felled them? Would they become like the birds and merely wait until dawn or... or would they fade away, just as their world vanished?
All the same, a matter none could delve into now, the first of the two attacks cast to life a surge of magic that filled the air with the scent of flora. Vibrant green, wild vines erupted from the warm stone floor and wrapped their thorny tendrils around the arcanist, threatening to fix her in place, but the latter swing instead bloomed with a mystic spark of pale green light; the burn of radiance, the almost soothing heat in spite of the harm it dealt. The Green Man seemed to command many forms of unusual magic, that of which was clearly drawn from the world but he was no druid, not by any obvious metric, neither was he some figure from this land that had been supposed as Ysgard.
At the ready to seemingly attack yet again, back or not turned to reborn magician, the enemy beneath the lion's fanged maw grinned at the holy warrior for a moment; before a breath otherwise could interrupt him, his reckless onslaught veered again to a dead pursuit of Cesar, armor booming as he charged full board.
"So much for your 'beloved' light." He snarled with mocking rebuttal at their disorganization in apparent views.
While in the middle of this charge, a phantom, ethereal green glow much like the burning radiance that singed Theodore made itself manifest from the palms of his hands. This spiritual fire trailing after him, burning off menacingly, some other fell attack was due soon as they both neared the golden flame.
The Green Man strikes with a longsword attack, dealing 10 points of slashing damage against Wick. Instantly, she is entangled by spectral vines and must make a DC 15 Strength check to avoid being restrained. The combatant then steps within reach of Theodore and lashes out at the templar for a tremendous 13 points of slashing damage and channels a smite, dealing 6 radiant damage as well. He then moves another twenty-five feet after Cesar.
If Wick or Theodore have a melee weapon at the ready, they may make an opportunity attack as the Green Man pursues the bard.
Once I see what @Ryonara will do, if she will seek out Brannor or not, I will have a post for you, @Hekazu. Not that it will be exciting mind you, but one never knows what might transpire.
I am inclined to take this as satire, although I worry that I know better, but at any rate why I am not surprised this is even a subject? Granted yes, having children would impact the environment, with reasonably more you have producing a greater effect, but now they are attempting to make this into a moral issue? I am all for preserving and retaining it, yet to state people need to stop having children is fairly irrational. They are aware it is mostly the third world responsible for the staggering population rise, I would hope.
[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>
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