Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current I don't know, Status...what is on my mind?
1 yr ago
On 6/18/2017, pigs will fly as hell freezes over for the coming of the almighty Day 666.
1 like
1 yr ago
Time to get a move on, or get moving on.
1 yr ago
RP ho!
1 yr ago
Past-Me puts my current writing to shame...I think it's time to fix that. ^_^)


I'd like to make art one day, but that would take skill. I'd like to make games one day, but that would take perseverance; maybe I ought to just roleplay a bit in the meanwhile.

Most Recent Posts

edit: ugh, I've been working on this for hours and it's boring as heck. I refuse to post a boring as heck update. x.x

Well, I'm available if you want to brainstorm some ideas together - in fact, why not make it an open collaboration for everyone to join in on (if they want to)? We could set up a temporary discord and pretend that we're professional writers for a day!
@Mokley Ifor continues to sit on the beach waiting for a post; other than that, I think my end is fine - ready to roll at any time.
@Mokley Apologies, I rushed the ending on it. Golde hasn't factored into the equation for Ifor yet, but I don't think he'd give anything away unless explicitly questioned about it - why should he betray the existence of another he's starting to respect to someone he hasn't an inkling about? As for the lacking remark, that's just him being a grumpy ass - the essential inflection is: "I see no reason to explain myself to you until you explain yourself to me first. I don't trust you, I find this annoying at the moment, but I don't perceive you to be an immediately lethal threat; Level with me."

Given his current physical condition and lack of immediate surrounding context, Ifor is most likely to just sit down with the stranger for a semi-awkward chat, so the plot on his end isn't going ANYWHERE until he knows where the rest of those strawberries are!

Cons of being very reactive as opposed to very proactive.
Somewhat Decent Post's Status: E X E C U T E D!!!!!!!!!
The familiar stranger stood strong before the squabbling trio with an almost regal air, his front slightly masked by the harsh shade of the sun while all around his figure there seemed to shimmer a glowing outline in likeness of the favor of The Eye itself. He was lean yet muscular, with short, black, balding hair covering his crown; His face was rough, showing evidence of a lifetime of harsh circumstances in the twist of his nose and the droop of his lazy left eye - and though now lax in posture, the forearms and hands betrayed a somewhat more martial background. Yet despite the sharp tones of his build and the firm silhouette he cast across the wilted flax, Sedric clearly possessed a more than 'civilized' sense of style about him - and if for nothing else than vanity or the fancy of the nobility, his garments remained well-kept and tidy...flaring ever-so-slightly into the realms of flamboyancy, yet lacking in that crucial appearance of utter, criminal wealth of status, as was befitting of those others born properly of the mercantile or manipulative classes.

"Plheasahnt's nh't eksaktly teh whaarding Ih hehrd yah lohst describe't ahs, Ghabrye...", Sedric snorted, clawing at the sweat irritating his hazel eyes, "...bhu bhesyhd tha' besyhde, whaat's this quarrel ghone off 'bout? These toho bhrrats stihl acktin' their age?" Mother out-scoffed the weary traveler with the ease of a sow well-acclimated to the discordant squeals of her litter, waving a hand over the ragged pair with an offhanded wisdom: "Age? Boys'r 'n ageless loht - one mohmehn they'cud tahlk teh earh off'a philosopher, the verry next they'll beh tossin' uhp dihrt lyhk ah couple o' acrid ol' gohats." She grinned smugly at Sedric, eyeing him up and down; "...Although Ih see suhm of'ya Billies 'ave prog'rest tah walking on tywo lhegs."

Ifor caught the faintest of smiles flickering on by under the reddened man's gaunt cheeks, and though its immediate meaning was lost to him, he couldn't help but notice the slight resemblance of character possessed by the two elders. What two rival constellations did writhe in battle amidst opal skies on the night of these two warriors' births? What strange coin affixed itself between those houses of an ancient and singular, trivial lineage - to repeat the cyclical tradition of enmity that had possessed their families for generations? How much longer would such an ancient ritual carry on when the former house bore stunted offspring and the latter remained single - or was that time yet to come? Would he too eventually be forced to suffer through the incessant nature of some spiritually-molded agitator? "What, isn't't legaal fer ah man tah carry ah grudge?"

"If 'tis, yhour lhisense 'as certanely exphired bye now, Sehdric."



"...KHOM'ERE, YOU TROUBLEMAKER YOUH!", cried the hunter to the exasperated shrieks of his quarry, yanking the smaller woman's balance out from underneath her with one fluent motion; Like a ragdoll he hurled her tan frame over his right shoulder, jutting a finger out towards the two youths fixed adjacent beneath the mischievous glow of his mile-wide grin: "Let's cuht this dreahdfall heat with uh fhew drinks, ahye bohys? WHO'S WITH ME!?"

Ifor and Scrounger exchanged glances, then looked back and shrugged; "Youh payin?", Ifor inquired in his usual monotone base, to which Sedric briefly struggled to retrieve a rather fat pouch of coins. The prosperous jingle of its girth set a twinkle in Scrounger's attentive blues, and with hands like a thief he sharply snatched the purse away for his own anxious inspection. "Taste them ihf yah lyhke, Lhiehihn - buht'ashure youh, they're ahl ohf honhest'mhint; straight from the Chief Constable's pocket toh mah own." The lanky lad sifted his fingers through the pouch with dazed disbelief, while from over Sedric rumbled the thunderous portentousness of a tempest about to burst; "Ifor, tell this kraass bhull toh set youhr muhther down, 'fore ah certain sumwonn eahrns ah slight ihmped'mint toh their ghaite..."

"Sedric, ghonna nheed youh tuh puht'er dohwn 'fore Ih ehndupp havin' tah geld yhar liddle-fellas."

"Oh-ho-ho!", the elder man replied, holding the squirming, black-maned woman firmly between the crook of his arm; "Tha' sohnds lyhke ah biht ohf ah challenge toh mee! Oh, but ihf'tis, yu'd buhst hahve sumethin' tuh wayge'r, aye? Wha' shall'ee wayge'r, Gahbrye?"

"...Aih hate youh."

"Heh-Heeh, I knoh - buh'tha' doesn't 'nswer myh question!", Sedric chuckled, his feet beginning to shift anxiously from the weight. She sighed, grumbling: "Aih dunno...Sohmthin' he won'mis, then..."


"Whai', wHA--", was about all she could say before a sudden jolt shifted the vowels inside her mouth into a hoarse gurgle; and just like that, the race was on. Yet, Ifor's feet stood planted, and he suddenly felt...strange...ethereal. He glanced up into the streaming glare of the sun, but was instead met with a harsh and sudden darkness. Reality spun unnervingly about him, and then all at once he felt cold, wet, and more than slightly odorous...and not a pleasant type of smell either. With a jerk, his eyes flicked open to the ravenous dim - and there, just above him, sat..."Him." Nothing else occupied the space around them - the air was quiet, save for the ambient lapping of the waves against the spongy sands.

"...You will be drowned by the tide, if you stay here much longer."



.............Youh'r ahn ahstute 'uhn."
ISP killed the net for about 14 hours on my end, but I should still have a post up by tonight; I'm feeling pretty good about how this one's been coming along, too ^_^).

Best of luck to the rest of you!
Looks like Elliot just got Sheogorathed:
Just out of precaution, I'd like to remind the peeps that Golde and Ifor are currently about an hour (maybe less) away from the last location; if anything heads up that way, it'll need a bit of a timelapse first. Otherwise, we're golden!
Posted another short one because A. I'm testing out a new system (I call it: "Turning Off Distracting Music", or the "TODM" system for short. I'll be receiving rave reviews over the patent any minute now...) for writing, and B. I'm still trying to get around the fact that I'm...not a very patient writer. So in the meantime, bear with me - I'll make sure to make the next post more involved!

(Whether Ifor gets woken up early or not is entirely up to the fates at this point; otherwise, more backstory, yeaaaaah!)
Like a fierce agitator the Eye glared, basking the fulvous fields beneath in an incinerating gaze - rendering them limp, distorted and hot to the touch. Once they had stood mighty, tall and golden - traits long since tainted by the corruption of time and distress; now, having been brought to the lowest strands of their pride, with heartless strokes they collapsed unfettered from the seats of their glory, scattered like swaths of ashes across the dirt as their mutilators cut and advanced...cut, and advanced.


"...Iht ain't rhite!", the young man so unattractively addressed as "Scrounger" barked, lifting the blade once more before letting the weight guide it through the stalks in a tempestuous swipe. He stopped, glowering over the flaxen field, rubbing his face in irritation at the sweat stinging his eyes, stomping the ground rather childishly in a mock display of authority - seemingly trying to say: "N O T I C E M E!"

As if granted by the Baron himself, the lanky lad's prayer was answered:

"Kutt th'e blaath'ring, yha spoilt lit'l calf..." Mother groaned, retracting her hand from up the smarter side of Scrounger's head. "...Fhere ah beggar's sohn youh ought te' beh thankful fhor aal the worhk yah ken geht."

"--But not in SUHMMER!" The company whinger replied, barely ducking a followup shot by Ifor's own mitt; "Summer's fohr LAZIN', noht GRAZIN'! Leave tha' muck'in'bout teh the lhikes ohf thuh ahnts, the 'hoppers - Old Badger's do--GOHW!" Having found success, Ifor's hand returned to the task ahead, its host grumbling away to the chorus of the scythe: "Youh tahlk lhike the Bharon's brat works, Scrouhnger...youh worhk like 'eh worhks, too; Outtah keep ah look'ouht fhor a nhew roll-mhodol..."

"...Youh know, ifhor ah klowhn yoor' noht very fhunny..."




"--Q U O I U U H H H H H H H H T ! ! ! !" The elderly man's voice rang deep and low to deafening effect, and even Ifor found himself oddly compliant with the command. He glanced up from his momentary workout towards the source of that auditory explosion, and upon recognizing its host, a faint smile flickered by underneath his heavy brow. The hunchback left the battered carcass beneath as he rose to his feet, and just over his shoulder he could hear the approving tone of Mother's greeting:

"Sehdric - plheasunt surprhize seein' youh bahk soh eharly!"
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