@Normie, some more evidence that this is a revolution by the people and likely not a military backed coup. Some other oddities are that there is a lot of unmarked air traffic departing airspace too; important people loyal to the state who likely do not feel like being beheadedor hung is my guess. Some other reporting on the ground says the military is arming militia units in response to others carrying out the massacres against civilians. Potentially major event here to support those reports.
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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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
Not much talk of Iran going on here and how the people are openly revolting against their oppressive government that has since killed a few of them for their resistance, or let alone what a real resistance looks like or how widespread it is. One can only hope this potential revolution against the Islamic Republic is mostly bloodless, but the positive is that some portions of its military have turned against the regime and are actively willing to fight for the people, including the Revolutionary Guard. Nevertheless, the Iranian people are getting the message direct from the United States that they are not being ignored, to the point the Iranian government has shutdown the majority of the internet to eliminate opposition communication.
The Vale
The Crypt,Currently
”Hey, Valmjr, my friend... I can call you a friend, yes? Do you know how this crypt was set? Mind if you help me clean up this mess?”
The helmed man, hefting his axe over his shoulder laughed and smiled in reply, his joyous sound filling the stone underground. He did not stand idle however, proving to speak as he neared the bard and set a hand upon the man's shoulder;
"Clean? Hah, I think there is no saving that, outsider, but you are right to return the resting places of the honored dead to their former glory. That you have my hand in."
Birbin was not still either, immediately setting to conjuring his own servant to return the sacred place to its former glory, where it basked in the warm balance between the dark underworld and the glinting, golden flames. Kneeling and lifting his hands high with a small jump at the end of his spell, the tiny wizard created an ethereal guide to carry out his tasks, but couldn't help but join in after even a few moments of tense watching, tapping his foot in the process.
"Oh nevermind, Birbin can't stand idle and let servant do all the work. Birbin will help too." He remarked, throwing his hands up in the air and dashing off to collect one of the numerous disturbed, ancient arrows that laid scattered on the floor.
In all of this the senior wizard of their group, Haemar, had pulled aside the divinely inspired paladin and spoke to her in hushed tones; the sort of thing he did only when he had some new thesis, theory, or idea in mind that he needed utmost secrecy kept in. Haemar was full of surprises in this regard, that he tended never to spoil what it was he had in mind to everyone, perhaps at most one other to see if his plans were wise. Thea however, did not seem so impressed at first and was visibly annoyed, but the more the elven magister spoke, the more his words seemed to break down what was normally and impenetrable fortress of determination.
@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002
Now and again a pause amidst the tall grass glazed with frost was needed, a nose wafting over their long blades, with a rolling breath washing over them in the process. The trail itself was irrelevant, the shortest distance between two points not the focus of the matter, rather just the type of thing it was in the first place. What information could be gleaned made it clear it was small, no greater than an elk in size for certain, no smaller than a pronghorn, but none of those was it at all, especially not as it traveled so alone in contrast to what was to be expected.
Still, moving on a distant curve away from the beaten path following the scent upwind, the cut in on the path from a flank was made only when the smell began to strengthen in intensity and concentration. For the hungering maw, whose jowls and whiskers were tinged with gathered snowflakes and naturally camouflaged in the embrace of winter, it flared and drove the rest of the elongated body to a halt. For a time it waited as it had before, but now the surveillance changed in nature; food was close, but where upon the horizon was it? The tall grass would obscure at least part of it, so to hurry into the scene out of hunger and curiosity was out of the question. Instead, with pupils enlarged and scanning, it noted every subtlety of the environment.
Motion was its trigger, for while it could not discern something as fine as the difference between turquoise and aquamarine, even the slightest movement overlaid an object and betrayed its position. Camouflage or not, if it were not still or could not expertly mimic the environment, it had little chance of evading the eyes of a cat. Sure enough from this, despite the ambient snowfall, a silhouette in the distance appeared, breaking the scattering of light to form a moving figure which was backlit; it was odd, tall rather than long, with strange prongs front and back.
Only casually breathing, mouth agape, it proceeded to watch from its point in the distant dark, well over a hundred meters, ears listening for the slightest detail; at times it tapped the crunch of snow and grass beneath the thing, the eerie quiet giving the illusion of auditory improvement when rather it only drown out other noises. But the giant tan thing was not so limited, for even as it scented the air again and continued to watch the open night for anything else that might be stirring, one ear kept tab upon even the slightest noise it made whenever they did rarely reach it, turning to track the sound. It decided then, with the tip of its tail flicking from left then to right, back again and then some, just what it intended to do.
Still, moving on a distant curve away from the beaten path following the scent upwind, the cut in on the path from a flank was made only when the smell began to strengthen in intensity and concentration. For the hungering maw, whose jowls and whiskers were tinged with gathered snowflakes and naturally camouflaged in the embrace of winter, it flared and drove the rest of the elongated body to a halt. For a time it waited as it had before, but now the surveillance changed in nature; food was close, but where upon the horizon was it? The tall grass would obscure at least part of it, so to hurry into the scene out of hunger and curiosity was out of the question. Instead, with pupils enlarged and scanning, it noted every subtlety of the environment.
Motion was its trigger, for while it could not discern something as fine as the difference between turquoise and aquamarine, even the slightest movement overlaid an object and betrayed its position. Camouflage or not, if it were not still or could not expertly mimic the environment, it had little chance of evading the eyes of a cat. Sure enough from this, despite the ambient snowfall, a silhouette in the distance appeared, breaking the scattering of light to form a moving figure which was backlit; it was odd, tall rather than long, with strange prongs front and back.
Only casually breathing, mouth agape, it proceeded to watch from its point in the distant dark, well over a hundred meters, ears listening for the slightest detail; at times it tapped the crunch of snow and grass beneath the thing, the eerie quiet giving the illusion of auditory improvement when rather it only drown out other noises. But the giant tan thing was not so limited, for even as it scented the air again and continued to watch the open night for anything else that might be stirring, one ear kept tab upon even the slightest noise it made whenever they did rarely reach it, turning to track the sound. It decided then, with the tip of its tail flicking from left then to right, back again and then some, just what it intended to do.
Yes, my intent is for Shaedra Galandoel to eventually herd cats. Swarms of conjured angry, clawing, biting felines upon the enemy. At some point I do hope to send a swarm of thirty-two large cats at something, just to have done it. Obviously a trivial enemy, but just for sheer effect and imagery. 9th level spellcasting is a long ways away, sadly.
The woman, rather the leopardess snarled as the change overcame her completely, her former wounds stanched and closed and her new, more animal form overtaking her - a breath of much needed fresh air to reinvigorate her wild soul. It was then from that same burst of energy she was a terror through the forest's brush with lightning speed, that uncannily fast even for a leopard as the natural fleetness of foot was not lost on her. It was no roaring, rampaging frenzy either, her mind was as clear and intense as it could be upon the magic she had conjured and she set the ghostly healer racing as well.
Three cats, all of varied forms and kinds, seemed to descend upon the bandits. One a shecat, who lurched out from the wood with a swipe at a man's back and intent to throw him to the ground, a panther set to sink his own claws and fangs in as well in turn, and the last some spectral echo who dashed headlong into the merfolk before careening off in pursuit of another apparent victim. All said and done, it was carefully orchestrated for something as seemingly insane as herding cats, which was to say nothing of a punching bear or a stabbing fish-folk. By all regular standards everything else might have been tame, but the escalation quickly grew and blossomed further.
Some were quick to celebrate, others not even intent to bother, adding only further to the odd scene unfolding here in the forest.
The leopardess did not stop to pay that mind, rather just drive off and or kill the attackers instead, and like a leaping frenzy of small knives she carved away at the back of an attacker before she landed again and menaced with a hissing spit. Less of a timid "kitty cat" and more of a cobra was the noise, she hoped to send the opponent fleeing when faced by two large carnivores on either side.
@Guardian Angel Haruki@JBRam2002@Pennydumb123@rush99999@ihinka@Cu Chulainn@0 Azzy 0
Three cats, all of varied forms and kinds, seemed to descend upon the bandits. One a shecat, who lurched out from the wood with a swipe at a man's back and intent to throw him to the ground, a panther set to sink his own claws and fangs in as well in turn, and the last some spectral echo who dashed headlong into the merfolk before careening off in pursuit of another apparent victim. All said and done, it was carefully orchestrated for something as seemingly insane as herding cats, which was to say nothing of a punching bear or a stabbing fish-folk. By all regular standards everything else might have been tame, but the escalation quickly grew and blossomed further.
Some were quick to celebrate, others not even intent to bother, adding only further to the odd scene unfolding here in the forest.
The leopardess did not stop to pay that mind, rather just drive off and or kill the attackers instead, and like a leaping frenzy of small knives she carved away at the back of an attacker before she landed again and menaced with a hissing spit. Less of a timid "kitty cat" and more of a cobra was the noise, she hoped to send the opponent fleeing when faced by two large carnivores on either side.
@Guardian Angel Haruki@JBRam2002@Pennydumb123@rush99999@ihinka@Cu Chulainn@0 Azzy 0
The darkness that contrasted the relative warmth of day was a cruel mistress, one laden with unspoken, unknown, and unimagined horrors that modern man had left behind, one who chose in the depths of its seeming void to fill with shearing cold in place of any ounce of sympathy. For earlier, while it had dusted snowfall throughout as a blessing, now the deathly chill was a curse, one that threatened to sap life until death; exposure. What few graces there were, if one could even think of them in any straight, sane mind with the hand dealt, were that the killing cold was not perpetuated by flaying winds or dense fall... though the graces there ended, perhaps with a sense of determined punctuation to them, as though fate thought itself much too kind.
Unlike the lone man wandering the dark, the more fierce things did not find themselves blinded or burning by the cold. Instead, these curses were the boons they could have asked for should they have had the power of mind to beseech such powers for the gifts; they made prey stiff, inflexible, easy to track, blind, deaf, and more importantly, reckless and easily startled. Predators relished the night, even the hours of dawn and dusk, but they as those to come after them had a special fondness for the cold and snowfall. It posed advantages that were never gained in the hours of daylight or in the warm midsummer months where the herbivores flourished.
One of these fiercer things, in its own lonesome, had taken to the night at hand from wherever it lurked. Perhaps some of the thicker brush or exposed stone, or maybe it was such a hardened thing as it appeared that the snowy cloak that fell over the land posed it no real need to avoid the cold, rather only the desire. Whatever the case may have been, its stirring was not without purpose, for in order to fill its need - the desire to live and survive - it would need eat. Though what could be done alone? Large game was difficult by one's self, nothing to distract or lure it into a well laid trap, just as small game was too fleet of foot to keep on in pursuit of. Scavenging was always an option, especially as the hungry cold preserved meat and bone alike from the various forms of pestilence, almost neatly packaging it for any hungry carnivore to come.
Something was different in this nightly venture though, something unexpected. It came with a scent to several hundred million receptors that made up the nose, something that would put its distant competitors of the future to shame in. Curious as it was, scanning the dark, it wasted no time in drawing the cold, scented air in across its jaws with an agape mouth. Such fine tasting of every detail, it could withdraw facts as subtle as age, fitness, fatigue or stranger things yet, but there was no true need for these - not nearly as much for direction or detail. Whatever it was, it was no large thing and was pronounced with exertion and agitation. Odd that it made no sound, not as others did in such a state, but enough to rouse curiosity and the uncontrollable urge to hunt.
Thus when the once settled paws put to tracking in a calm walk, testing the air time and again with an open, fanged mouth, the wandering, wavering pattern diminished as it honed in closer to the source. First it was the odd gust that moved with the wind, tossed aside, but soon it was a trail, then on? Not even the concealing snow could hide tracks, layers or not, light or rather the seeming lack thereof. The contrary was true at that, the ambient moonlight refracted amongst countless falling icy particles and scattered wide; how bright it made the night to anyone with the talent to truly see it. Sound in all of this, a factor as it needed to be to come, played but no role still - no baying or whinnying - instead just deathly silence, as much so as the deadly hunter itself.
That gift of hearing would come in due time, but in the meantime the calmly hounding figure kept on in search of its quarry, pausing now and then on its winding way to discern where next the wind would come and go until it could find the source outright, walking almost as if it moved in an arc.
Unlike the lone man wandering the dark, the more fierce things did not find themselves blinded or burning by the cold. Instead, these curses were the boons they could have asked for should they have had the power of mind to beseech such powers for the gifts; they made prey stiff, inflexible, easy to track, blind, deaf, and more importantly, reckless and easily startled. Predators relished the night, even the hours of dawn and dusk, but they as those to come after them had a special fondness for the cold and snowfall. It posed advantages that were never gained in the hours of daylight or in the warm midsummer months where the herbivores flourished.
One of these fiercer things, in its own lonesome, had taken to the night at hand from wherever it lurked. Perhaps some of the thicker brush or exposed stone, or maybe it was such a hardened thing as it appeared that the snowy cloak that fell over the land posed it no real need to avoid the cold, rather only the desire. Whatever the case may have been, its stirring was not without purpose, for in order to fill its need - the desire to live and survive - it would need eat. Though what could be done alone? Large game was difficult by one's self, nothing to distract or lure it into a well laid trap, just as small game was too fleet of foot to keep on in pursuit of. Scavenging was always an option, especially as the hungry cold preserved meat and bone alike from the various forms of pestilence, almost neatly packaging it for any hungry carnivore to come.
Something was different in this nightly venture though, something unexpected. It came with a scent to several hundred million receptors that made up the nose, something that would put its distant competitors of the future to shame in. Curious as it was, scanning the dark, it wasted no time in drawing the cold, scented air in across its jaws with an agape mouth. Such fine tasting of every detail, it could withdraw facts as subtle as age, fitness, fatigue or stranger things yet, but there was no true need for these - not nearly as much for direction or detail. Whatever it was, it was no large thing and was pronounced with exertion and agitation. Odd that it made no sound, not as others did in such a state, but enough to rouse curiosity and the uncontrollable urge to hunt.
Thus when the once settled paws put to tracking in a calm walk, testing the air time and again with an open, fanged mouth, the wandering, wavering pattern diminished as it honed in closer to the source. First it was the odd gust that moved with the wind, tossed aside, but soon it was a trail, then on? Not even the concealing snow could hide tracks, layers or not, light or rather the seeming lack thereof. The contrary was true at that, the ambient moonlight refracted amongst countless falling icy particles and scattered wide; how bright it made the night to anyone with the talent to truly see it. Sound in all of this, a factor as it needed to be to come, played but no role still - no baying or whinnying - instead just deathly silence, as much so as the deadly hunter itself.
That gift of hearing would come in due time, but in the meantime the calmly hounding figure kept on in search of its quarry, pausing now and then on its winding way to discern where next the wind would come and go until it could find the source outright, walking almost as if it moved in an arc.
There are only a few issues noted in the submission, but those largely stem from the scenario to be played out. That said, the pig and the presence of rope are the two most glaring outstanding problems.
The situation is as follows, occuring at approximately zero-two-hundred hours, forty seven miles Southeast of Rancho La Brea, California. The date is current minus fifteen thousand, 12983 BCE, with current weather conditions leaving a light obscuring snowfall due to season. Illumination is very low due to weather conditions despite being at seventy-two percent. Current temperature is approximately 10* F, with windspeed and direction at just over 8 knots at 160*.
The environment is cold grassland and light hills with limited forestation, predominantly pine. The majority of Pleistocene megafauna have migrated further south, but members of bison, giant camel, elk, pronghorn, llama, peccaries, ground sloth among others are still extant.
The nature of the introduction is not known, being relegated to unexplained. Due to the equipment presented, it is assumed the party in question has had several days to acquire sufficient materials and largely avoid natural hazards, be them predators or environment. Food is in extremely limited supply, likely only to be scavenged off of kills that were marked by local rough-legged buzzards. Fresh water is in limited supply, but snowfall has made this more available in sufficient quality to avoid dehydration. Items assumed to be with member is limited modern winter clothing brought with them during excursion.
The situation is as follows, occuring at approximately zero-two-hundred hours, forty seven miles Southeast of Rancho La Brea, California. The date is current minus fifteen thousand, 12983 BCE, with current weather conditions leaving a light obscuring snowfall due to season. Illumination is very low due to weather conditions despite being at seventy-two percent. Current temperature is approximately 10* F, with windspeed and direction at just over 8 knots at 160*.
The environment is cold grassland and light hills with limited forestation, predominantly pine. The majority of Pleistocene megafauna have migrated further south, but members of bison, giant camel, elk, pronghorn, llama, peccaries, ground sloth among others are still extant.
The nature of the introduction is not known, being relegated to unexplained. Due to the equipment presented, it is assumed the party in question has had several days to acquire sufficient materials and largely avoid natural hazards, be them predators or environment. Food is in extremely limited supply, likely only to be scavenged off of kills that were marked by local rough-legged buzzards. Fresh water is in limited supply, but snowfall has made this more available in sufficient quality to avoid dehydration. Items assumed to be with member is limited modern winter clothing brought with them during excursion.
Since the holidays are now over, I think some posts are well due with added vigor.
Of all the unexpected faces and people to have encountered as Brannor worked it was the half blood orc, Orchid. From time to time he had seen the savage fighter, the madman who attempted to leap on to a dragon, throughout the camp but this was the first interaction they had since the paladin aspirant was handed off to the work detail of slaves. Initially the question arose as to why the man was here, but it seemed to answer itself the more the eyes of the hunter looked him over; Orchid wouldn't have been here if he had no reason to be. He was not the most intellectual, but he was cunning and prone to unusual plans, in addition to well knowing what detection threatened them with. With a slight nod and snort, the wilder drove the mucking tool into the muddy earth.
"I do not think I have much choice." Brannor's characteristic gruffness answered, loud enough to be heard but not enough to make a scene. Failing to be defiant to some extent, while still playing along, would have aroused suspicion. He would prefer if he did not need speak at all truthfully, yet now was not the time to emphasize his personal wants.
They had a mission, a need rather, one greater than any one of them or even the totality of their collective whole. This infiltration effort, to sneak right beneath the enemy's nose, was not just for the monk they needed to rescue or to gain information about the dragon-cult, neither was it about avenging Greenest by spying, no, it was about creating momentum for the grand hunt to come. So when it came to the warrior playing slave it was everything to preserve the illusion that was being weaved before the enemy's eyes. No less, the outlander kept in mind what he had witnessed and what he knew; that the cultists and their army wished to prevent their departure... all now he needed was an opportunity to pass that on.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Irredeemable
"I do not think I have much choice." Brannor's characteristic gruffness answered, loud enough to be heard but not enough to make a scene. Failing to be defiant to some extent, while still playing along, would have aroused suspicion. He would prefer if he did not need speak at all truthfully, yet now was not the time to emphasize his personal wants.
They had a mission, a need rather, one greater than any one of them or even the totality of their collective whole. This infiltration effort, to sneak right beneath the enemy's nose, was not just for the monk they needed to rescue or to gain information about the dragon-cult, neither was it about avenging Greenest by spying, no, it was about creating momentum for the grand hunt to come. So when it came to the warrior playing slave it was everything to preserve the illusion that was being weaved before the enemy's eyes. No less, the outlander kept in mind what he had witnessed and what he knew; that the cultists and their army wished to prevent their departure... all now he needed was an opportunity to pass that on.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Irredeemable
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