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4 yrs ago
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.
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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.

Most Recent Posts

Hand batting away some of the furiously fluttering, flying bodies, the entourage was able to break free of the cloud of bats and find brief refuge again in the fungal fields. They needed to stanch their bleeding wounds after the attack they suffered, which had done far more harm than such creatures would likely have been suspected of. The outlander had never seen such vermin in his life, heard of them in passing as large deadly winged bloodsucking parasites, but now that he had he knew better than to dismiss them as so minor foes. The breather allowed him a moment to reflect on this and gather himself too, although he knew now it would likely need be deeper than mere passing thoughts and musings on the nature of creatures that lived in the cave.

Instead, he needed to take a moment to clear his thoughts and call up that pool of soothing, otherworldly power that resided in him. If a breather was not enough for the others, the moon-touched aspirant would grant them some of what he was gifted with. The lunar aspect, the Pale Lady, was as much a healer as she was a destroyer; she was change after all. So this led Brannor to kneel down upon the dusted cavern floor and steady his breathing, meditating on that distant part of himself that had only ever been drawing closer, until the familiar, pale ethereal glow came at hand.

"Now," He spoke up some, keeping his powerful voice restrained but not moving from where he rest upon one knee, "If you cannot gather yourself by yourself, allow me to remove some of your wounds' bite."


@Hekazu@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
"It is a difficult matter to gain the affection of a cat. He is a philosophical, methodical animal, tenacious of his own habits, fond of order and neatness, and disinclined to extravagant sentiment. He will be your friend, if he finds you worthy of friendship, but not your slave."
Théophile Gautier
I have considered teaching, really instructing, as a formal role in the past. I opted to decline because of my tendencies not skewing me favorably toward people at large. Some specialties I could again teach, to a younger audience rather than an adult one, but it would take a specific caliber of character throughout the audience to make it successful. Otherwise it would be little more than an exercise in frustration for us both.
This particular feline does not have hazel eyes. They are instead closer to a variant golden-green.
Yes, that is my stance as well, that little enclave area there would be the best place to heal that we know of. The potions are something we still aren't likely to see more of and could be the difference of life and death for someone in combat who is about to be slain. I would rather we expend Hit Dice and if need be some uses of Lay on Hands.
I debate myself internally over minor details I am already well aware of that others will not notice or will, in rare happenstance, become aware of by what usually amounts to sheer chance. But what if they did notice them? This question pervades my mind in near anything and everything in its furthest reaches, always lingering in the background. Some might describe it as mild paranoia yet I instead call it a healthy dose of awareness.
That sounds much like the majority of people I encounter. The cold is a common complaint and they will do anything to avoid being out in it. Yet, these people can wear layers - they live in a place that expects as much - why not just do that rather than go full on to either extreme? This cannot even be done in hot or warm weather.

Los Angeles, California
Obscure Alley
@Prosaic@Count Cuddles


Despite the calls to question, initially the athletic cat replied only with the least obvious of body language. Little more than the tip of the elegant sleek tail flexed with a curl, a gentle flick from side to side. The rest of it was relatively rigid, as though frozen in place, aside from the two pools of gold that made up its eyes, which seemed all the more content to drink in the details. It wasn't as though the costumed man had done all that much aside from make himself ready to fight, but the tiger had replied. The casual pace of the tail twitch became a bit more erratic before it eased before it so silently sneered, slender whiskers splayed like fingers from open hands.

The stress of ambiguity was dispelled the moment Éclater, with the caress of alcohol working at his demeanor, asked its name. Like a switch had been flicked, less concerned about Faultline's visual challenge, the supple animal blinked and appeared distant for a moment. It fumbled through what to call itself really, no one had ever asked it. Reasonably so of course, when they did see the tiger, not a small Bengal tiger at that, the reaction was typically chaotic with panic and concern the first and foremost. The Predator almost went to name itself but remembered that was not what it was called anymore.

When it returned from its brief adventure through the mind, the stare lingered from the still tense figure to the woefully loose one. Again it spoke without moving a muscle, either one of the most convincing illusions or one of the greatest shared delusions to-date.

"I am a tiger, I am a predator." It began in a surreal sort of way, adding to the wordless but still oddly deep inner voice, "That is what they call me."

It then smiled, in a sort of way that showed the points of its teeth and perhaps added a bit of discomfort that called back to some sort of now long gone primate ancestors of the superpowered humans. The devious smile it shared, was accompanied by another telling motion of its tail and the slight draw of one of its paws as it took a step at an angle. It stopped as it had before, at last no longer looking directly at them. If they knew anything about big carnivores, that was honestly for the better. Not that the Predator would have had the same reactions as they might, the staring earlier was never good.

"I came to see people like me. But I am not people, as you see, I am tiger."

The answer to more well known of the two heroes' questions was less abstract in answer, although the tiger's slow plodding along might have distracted more from it. Each still damp step left an ever evaporating print on the blacktop of the alley, the tiger a bit more comfortable now in positioning; facing them head on wasn't ideal, not for long. The slow pacing was a way to compensate for the situation, even if on the surface it made little sense to an observer. By the time it turned around, walking now in the other direction and seemingly divided by an invisible barrier between the two camps, it narrowed down the results.

Adding after in the mental voice, "You can guess what I do then."

Now it looked back to them from the corner of an eye, most of its elaborately decorated body visible than the mere head-on encounter when they first started the conversation. It seemed almost as though it was courteously noting it had moved into the area and now considered this its territory. Which was, in fact, true. It was no longer the "The Conroe Predator", it had evolved beyond that. Los Angeles was its new hunting ground and it had enough wherewithal to announce itself to them and study them in turn. For example, it was fairly confident in this moment it could handle a skirmish, as one of the two men drifted in a pleasant haze of booze not high enough to crash down when it wore off or low enough to be as keen as he really was, but knew that if the both of them were even remotely familiar partners it probably could not edge in on their ground.

Then again, people didn't really have claims like that. But for the Predator, that would be news.
I know Brannor has a potion but those are the types of things best saved for combat and wasting combat resources outside of it when we have Hit Dice to heal would not be good. Everyone but the paladin took some amount of damage and the majority of it should be, in theory, covered by a short rest.
There are a particular few numbers that reappear extremely frequently in my life, those being the numbers two and five, as well as their sum in seven; three, by contrast, appears much more rarely. It is unclear why this is, as in terms of commonality and importance, they rise then fall sharply; two, five, seven, three. I no less notice recurring patterns of them in highly unlikely but relevant information directly relevant to me and they seldom appear one or two by side, instead forming a repeating string such as two-five-two or their sum in order of magnitude such as two-five-seven.
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