Recent Statuses

5 mos ago
Current BE like bird. Wake in morning. SCREAM at sun. SHIT on enemy.
7 mos ago
Girl is like bird. DO approach calmly. DO greet kindly. DO offer cornchip.
8 mos ago
No man! No woman! Only birb!
10 mos ago
Good night sun, good night moon, good night birb.
3 yrs ago
In due time, all will become Bird.


An absolute WILDCARD of an RPer

U T R A X is a BEING that likes to Type Words on the INTERNET.

Most Recent Posts

Hope Passage :::: @Drag@Luminous Beings

When the man next to Ziz began laughing, a sliver of amusement actually crept into their chuckle. Here was another fine specimen-- well muscled and strong looking-- how fantastic an idea this had been! If all of these creatures planned on traveling together, even? Well then that would make everything all the better-- so much data could be gathered that Ziz figured they would need several more books. "Such a fine occasion, in which we find ourselves thusly," Ziz rasped, chittered, and clicked at the large being next to themselves, if only to court out the stirrings of jolly camaraderie from them.

Ways of the MEATSKINS involved such vocal dances and social navigation, as they were highly social pack animals-- it was all so simple but quite flat. These creatures relied on their flabby faces, their gesticulations, and their voices-- there were no temperature, scent, double-voice musicalities, or even complex multi-armed gestures in communication with them. Sure, they exhibited a wide range of voice pitches and scents, but they seemed mostly imperceptible other MEATSKINS and uncontrolled, which was rather baffling. Flat and dry and simple-- easy but not straightforward. Sentences and sentences after exhausting sentences to relay what took only a moment for the Gi-Syn-Yi.

Just as Ziz began to inwardly sigh, anticipating the inevitable response from the big Axe Man, unconsciously their antennae quivered with anticipation, as an even FINER specimen stomped into the tent. This towering Golem was one of the first Ziz had seen themselves, though there were records of them at home-- which wasn't too surprising since there were records for nearly every creature, back home. To see one moving, though? And to see it exhibiting some semblance of personal awareness? Ziz was staring at the golem now, intrigued and curious, practically vibrating with delight, when the Old Kaimerian walked in.

Now this-- this was a Physical Sciences and Creature Demibiographcation find for the century!

Plenty of Kairmeians had volunteered for vivisection and they practically threw their cadavers about for good use, but never one to such an age. Antenna wiggling, tongue flicking, and head tilted, Ziz tried to hear and smell over the nonsense happening in the tent-- was this Kaimerian alone? Were their senses mistaking them? Surely no one would leave one such as this alone to walk the desert and-- the bared belly and weathered skin on display? That could only mean--

"My my, Esteemed and Blessed Mother," the Vrxyl began in a voice, which crept through dark caves and chilled test subjects volunteers to the core, "Art thou here alone?" Again, Ziz began a low snickering-- the sound hissing and clicking with their dry vocal anatomy.

"That is enough!" Came the voice behind, causing Ziz to turn around slowly, if only to... leave the question suspended there. Oh, their mind did wander, quite quickly to the task of how they would get that Kaimerian beneath the sand. Seeing as they could not do it, as this would sever any sort of possibility for trust within the MEATSKIN heard, they would have to scent mark her. Yes... if the Vrxyl could get close enough to the Old Mother, for a long enough time, then they could spread enough pheromone salve and scent upon her so as to start a chain-- one strong gust would send the message, more would get it, carry it, and then--

"...These terms cannot be negotiated."

"I accept these terms," Ziz spoke up immediately, bowing with two arms, as they skillfully stowed away their journal. They truly had no interest in seeing Exhusia, the queen, nothing of the sort. Their mind had become focused on the singular task of how they could manage it-- to capture the Kaimerian.

Hope Passage

A sharpened pincer tip emerged from the sand, much to the distress of a neaby horse and-- what was that other thing called? It heed and hawed as the rest of Ziz emerged from the sand. Hooves readjusted to the shifting sand and the animals pulled at their posts. Turning around-- head and pincer out of the sand only-- with the ease of a swimmer in water, Ziz took an already bored look around at the tents. With a forceful thrust, that further disturbed the horses and elicited a few startled yelps from people nearby, Ziz emerged fully from the sand with enough force to send them a couple of inches from the ground. Of course, they were fully expecting their appearance to catch a bit of attention.

An armored Gi-Syn-Yi didn't usually present themselves to the surface. Their armor, crafted from their chitin, had likely not been seen on the surface world in the last century. Usually, when volunteering, the Gi-Syn-Yi would clad themselves in the weird minerals and ores of the surface people, so as to slightly-blend in better, but Ziz knew that crap was... crappy. For the best means of survivability, Ziz opted for not wearing that flimsy surface trash. MEATSKINS nearby shouted to others then ran back-- of course, Ziz knew this was a different set of beings, but they all kind of looked the same, really.

With a hand thrust inside their armor, Ziz quickly produced their invitation, as the MEATSKIN with the dingus point-stick approached them, with their face all scrunched up, whilst reeking of stress-- one of the smellier scents they could have. The Human Male, as they seemed to smell and sound, said something or other that didn't matter, and Ziz turned away from him-- starting off toward the entrance of the tent they were next to. Their emergence had been calculated a little off-- yes, this was the correct tent, but Ziz honestly didn't mean to emerge in this spot. The idea had been to emerge in the middle of the tent, tear up the furniture a bit, then present the startled MEATSKIN with... the gift.

Not bothering to shake off any excess sand, the Vrxyl moved into the tent, trailing a sufficient amount of sand as they went along. As expected, several others were already assembled within, and they were going about their greetings and mumblings and other such social procedures-- one of them had even brought an entire horse in. Snickering lowly, Ziz moved off to the side of the entryway. One hand took out their journal, while another hand held up "their" invitation, which was really a donation the Hv-Jit had acquired from a volunteer, and another of their hands got to scribbling in the journal.

Truly, this was a momentous occasion worth documenting. Greeting the stupid MEATSKIN representative with their gift required some timing now, as they appeared to be busy with someone attempting to explain cartography to them. To Ziz, it was just another rock among rocks, but they knew how much value other creatures place upon such things. In order to get as much spectacle and observations out of the MEATSACKS as possible, Ziz had to wait... and plan. Ah, things were bound to grow interesting rather quickly, with such an interesting mix of beings. Their snickering continued, shifting into something of a low, creepy, bug cackle.
Hello The Ghost Note and A Zombiedude One Hundered and One.
Here is my bug OC.
Edit: to include themesong (:
Here is bug race posted in thread for the people, hello I am Utrax.

The ... Gay Grove?

Without a second thought, Mariah took Isla's hand, and trusted they would end up somewhere safe. Just before they left, Mariah caught a glimpse of the burning Beach house, and winced. She hadn't meant to set the whole damn thing on fire but hopefully that would help the situation... or something. Fires blazed then the forest quivered before her-- scenery abruptly shifting with Isla's teleport. Almost reflexively, at this point, Mariah reached out to catch Isla just before she could hit the ground, and ended up down there with her.


They were certainly out of danger, sort of. Where they were exactly could be anywhere. Mariah held isla in one arm as she pulled her phone out, then opened up Google maps. Around them was a forest and they were in the clearing but, for some reason, her phone signal didn't want to pull her location. Great. As quiet and seemingly safe as it was here, a sense of anxiety caused her hands to shake, as she went to lower Isla to the ground. Slowly, she paced about, praying to the Verizon gods for a signal-- the lone bar of cell service answered her prayer. Google's positioning wonked about as she stared at the map, with a deep sigh leaving her, and it sounded awfully loud. Her brows scrunched and she sighed again-- the noise far softer than before but she felt eyes upon her.

Had those monsters decided to cut through these woods on their way to Annabelle? Thick sloshing and splashing picked up from within the forest somewhere-- Mariah looked over her shoulder at the unconscious Isla-- the world flipped several times.

"Neigh," neighed a very distressed horse, with an air of familiarity, as it used Mariah as an off-ramp from the forest. "Whinny," came the freaked out noise of the horse, as it continued on it's stampede into the wood-line, leaving Mariah as a heap in the mood. As she lay on her side, Google locked in on her position, and she stared at her blue icon on her phone screen. All things considered, that could have gone far worse, had she not decided to wear her glamorous football helmet. Sure, her side was screaming in pain, as was her leg, but Isla didn't even get hit and she didn't get a third concussion.

Quickly, she sent her location as a text message to Max, and figured he was already locked in on it anyway. He was kind of a legend for knowing where she was and when, without her telling him, and Mariah figured he was just really good at guessing games. As it stood, Mariah decided she was in a rather comfortable position for a nap, anyway. Eventually, Max did arrive, and they scooped Isla into the car, as he lectured Mariah on all the danger in Tampa and other such concerns, keeping the lecture going allllllll the waaaaay to Miami.

The Bitch House

A lot of stuff can happen in two weeks. When the rest of the Coven fled back to Tampa, Mariah hadn't went with them, regardless of the danger. Sure. Maybe they'd murder her then steal her body, but then it wouldnt exactly be her problem, right? She'd be dead. On top of that, she didnt want Max to waste his gas money chasing her to Tampa, just so he could bring her back to Miami. That man had made it pretty clear that he didn't want her going nowhere until she saw a doctor.

Turns out, his fears were justified, and her doctor put her on bed rest for a week. As it turns out, bonking ones head on cement really didnt do the soft squishy noodles inside the skull any favors. For whatever reason, this was the same time Hector decided to go on an adventure, leaving her and Max alone to pay the damn rent.

So yeah, sure, Mariah was here at this Coven meeting but, this was the first time in a while that she could think clearly-- well enough to dig into her damn budgeting app. As she held her phone in one hand, crunching the numbers between her income and Max's, divided by food and fashion, she very dramaticaly fanned herself with the other, holding that huge fan of hers like a gentle southern damsel. Sweat was beading on her brow but Mariah refused to take off her bedazzled football helmet, for she was with the Coven, and they always managed to get her into a concussion causing situation.

Every slight tilt or movement of Mariah's head caused the stupid, plastic rhinestone covered, insult to sports equipment, to catch the light and surely send it BRIGHTLY beaming into someone's eyes, but she kept the football helmet on-- faceguard up and included. Her neon colored tie die crop top and black skirt contrasted wholly with the helmet, because who the hell wore something like this? She was seated on a deck chair, as discussion went on, and only barely registered the topic at hand.

After an odd linguistic display from Vashti, which kinda made her sound like she needed to shit, Mariah immediately cast her vote. "Whoever dyin' should have it unless they dyin' of the cancer-- unless the curse is the cancer. Whateva'," she contributed.
I have a question!
How long must a thread be inactive/unused before it can be deleted?
I GM'd an RP that died a few months ago and would like it exploded.
Should I tell the players to grab their stuff then ask for deletion?
Hello again!
Can you ice cream scoop my post out and put it in the lil trash?
Thank you!!
I'm out.
Nice meeting y'all.
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