Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Current "A player's reach should inevitably extend beyond their grasp - Else, what's a heaven for?" - Virgil, inspired by Mattew Colville, inspired by Robert Browning.
1 yr ago
I don't know, Status...what is on my mind?
2 yrs ago
On 6/18/2017, pigs will fly as hell freezes over for the coming of the almighty Day 666.
1 like
2 yrs ago
RP ho!
4 yrs ago


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

@Shadow Dragon That's definitely a better attempt, but you've still got a long way to go before you really progress out of your older habits. I don't think it'll work here, and thus this is where the RP'll have to end, but I wish you good luck in all of your future RPs; G'day!
Well alright then - give me another post to prove your word and we'll see where that puts us.
Well I can't say they've influenced you for the better - I can see the direction that you're taking because of it, and frankly, your writing feels disconnected from the rest of the RP:

For starters, your mechanics feel stiff and unnatural, made all the worse by Socorro needing to be given a solid emotional connection in order for the reader to care about his otherwise lackluster motives. If I break the flow of the action. By splitting a sentence too early instead of fleshing it out and leading into the next. It hurts the reader's immersion in my story and my characters. Now obviously I'm no expert in this field, I'm practically a novice myself what with the ease with in which I lose interest in what I'm writing, the at-times strange grammatical decisions I make in trying new angles, or my simple inability to write more than a paragraph at a time before having to press the enter key and move on to the next line. Yet despite all that, I'm at least trying to make the flow of my stories feel immersive - I want you to imagine you're THERE, in the thick of it, observing craft and character alike in Real Time...and static writing doesn't give you that immersion.

Next...your character, man; Now yes, drama comes in many forms, but I think it's fair to say that as with any craft you really ought to grow past the basics beyond a certain point - and Socorro is as basic as they come. He's a cut-and-dry stereotypical JRPG youth with a dark and/or mysterious past, a strange feeling that he doesn't fit in and/or is hated by all (probably because the only emotions available to that type of character are angst, fear and apathy), and an overwhelming power that comes at the tragic price of bum-all. To top it off he's subject to the errors of Tell, Don't Show - exposition and internal monologues ram backstory into scenarios in which it has no right to be, and they take away from the other forms of development your character could be engaging in (talking with other characters via natural dialogue, showing through action/inaction, describing through allusion or subtle comparison).

Finally, in keeping with the terms of an immersive atmosphere, your style of writing seems to push everything else BUT your character to the background - and that's especially antagonizing BECAUSE he has nothing interesting to say or feel. This is an RP, and while every character has their own role to play, the general idea is for the players to work together in order to create an interesting, collaborative story. Socorro's role here mainly seems to be exposing/progressing a bland backstory in order to...focus on him; That's it, that's his ultimate role in the story - self-inflation. Yullar isn't exactly a saving grace, but at least his self-centered, carefree, battle-loving nature (and subsequent death...Spoiler) is supposed to be a symbolic and short-term bit of foreshadowing for the plot, in addition to progressing it through its first stages in the battle atop Krolm's Anvil.

As you can tell, I feel pretty damned serious about this...but with all that said and done, I'd actually like to continue to progress this setting and sharpen my skills through this RP, because I still think it can work - but I can't justify continuing it as two separate stories trying to merge into one. So the question that arises here is, "Can you change for the better on this?"
@Shadow Dragon

...How many Anime/Soap-Operas do you watch?
Our first posts are up! The world-building is off to a rougher start than I'd have liked, but the plot carries on regardless. With skill, perseverance and a little bit of creative luck, we should be off to a running start - there'll be no five-month-long introductions to be found here!
Just for clarification, Hertla and her son are Yullar's personal house-slaves - where he goes, they follow. Additionally, the whole point of Krolm's Anvil is to settle power-disputes between the clans; Every generation or so (10 years, give or take) the most powerful clans each send a warhost up to decide which clan is more or less proclaimed leader for a time, allowing for a Rule of the Fittest type of leadership while still maintaining relative autonomy from one another. Losers usually pay high tributes in terms of resources - it's entirely possible for certain smaller clans to join forces and pool together a warhost, even going so far as to meld older, weaker clans into whole new ones in order to have a stronger chance at rising up the political ladder.

Of course, as very briefly alluded to in the post, it's also possible for clans fade into obscurity or die out entirely, perhaps splitting off and joining others just to survive. The struggle for dominance is a constant dance of variables in the Ulgothe mountains.
"WHAT LIES WITHIN?!" He slammed his chest and spat out a tremendous fit of wheezing laughter, barely being able to hold the reigns of his stocky brown mare; The sound of his voice heaved across the camp like a rumbling thunder, streaking with aberrant gasps for air as Yullar desperately struggled to contain himself.

". . .LO. . .LOok around you boy - what caverns could possibly lie up here? When they said that warriors were put under atop Krolm's Anvil, they rarely meant it in the literal sense!"

Finally managing to catch his breath, the red-cheeked captain gave a weary pat of his scaled belly and slid off of the beast, wiping a few renegade tears from his eyes as they shot out over the collective motley of brightly-colored tents, cindering fires and dreary-faced fighters. Here and there in the forefront he caught the shifting attention of some nosy busy-body, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the daft presence adjacent him; his gaze returned to that of the ghoulishly pale youth.

"Come here you...", he began, tucking the spear into his left before strapping a beefy right arm around the shorter warrior's shoulders, dragging him a further few yards out from the tents with his head nodding affirmatively towards the distance. "...See those dots just a little ways off? No doubt you did, they arrived around the same time as the rest of our camp-builders; Now, count them - one...two...six in total, right? With us that makes seven, yes - the seven most powerful clans in all Ulgothe all come together for a regular little party, yes? And what party would that be, that requires the likes of civilization's fiercest arms, and the warriors who use them? Honor, boy - an honor unattainable through the use of talk or arguing, of the kind that rings true between even the basest ant and the proudest lion. Honor through Battle, where lots are drawn and settled by the spear and axe..."

His speech slowed, then went silent for a while, and his gaze stretched over the dusk's edge...then he latched an eye back onto his companion's frail form and continued:

"...I've been here thrice in my lifetime, lad - I still recall the days when we sat near the head of the council in the longhouse of the Grey Wyrms; But maybe you're just too young to remember...yes...- still, you ought to know better of the world by now, especially seeing as you're wielding the tools of an adult. And speaking of which..."

The portly warrior unhooked his grasp on the younger man, instead shoving spear and shield into the boy's stomach with a hearty nudge.

"Do me a favor and head for the camp-center to ask about my tent; If it's up, find Hertla there and tell her and her boy to get these nice and polished for me before we settle in for the night - the party'll start early in the morning, and we don't want to miss it on account of a few unfinished formalities. Don't worry about any introductions, they'll know its from me - and as for you, today, gone tomorrow, yes? For myself, I've got a few old friends to do some catching up with."

He nodded towards a haphazardly strewn pile of bones laying just in sight of the camp, erected around the aged and rotting husk of an undoubtedly ancient oak. Then with a parting slap on the boy's back, the stout figure turned and strode off towards them, whistling merrily all the way.
Alright, heading off for the day (things to do!); the introductory post isn't much, but I'm only warming up anyhow. As for the names, I'd say sticking with a first name (Yullar) and a last/nick name would work just fine ("Laxtongue") for anyone who doesn't have a highborn title or rank accompanying them (War Captain). Good luck with your character sheet and your first post, I'll be looking forward to it!
...Yew Lions...Hag Rams...Old Crows...Storm Hawks...Dead Rabbits...Blood Bears. . .Iron Elks. Like a pestilence they crept en masse along ancient pathways, unstable bridges, narrow chasms and deadly-steep slopes of firm-footed granite. Streams of bronze and iron glittered up the slopes from every direction, as if the very lifeblood of the region had suddenly decided to pool and coagulate, and strangle the heart with its encroaching volume. For a night and two days they rose along their ancestral passages, marching ever onward to crest the summit of their great journey...and what a marvel they beheld upon arrival: A flat, sparsely decorated plateau stretching three miles and five deep, plastered with a dull stone-grey between specks of green. Above it rode misty warriors in their puffy chariots, observing the sacred battleground from on high with a gentle ease; The old ones seemed pleased by the presence of their progeny.

Krolm's Anvil - a place of great honor, and yet greater loss; As Yullar sniffed the air from atop his sturdy mount, he noted the faintest traces of iron wafting about the decrepit bones of the dead. Here had many strove to be deemed worthy of entrance into Krolm's eternal halls, and many more would yet. It was a place of rock, bones and the idle bit of well-fed vegetation - a place where, they say, the souls of the damned and dying still wandered in strife, looking to redeem themselves in the eyes of their ancient lord. A place of sorrow for many, yes...but also of unrivaled wealth for the lucky few. Yullar would be sure to place himself among the ranks of the latter - it'd always sounded incredibly aggravating to die and live on forevermore as a wraith, a permanent mark of a warrior's inherent failure. He clutched the reigns in his left a little harder, easing the beast forward towards the preset camps that the clans' camp-followers had erected mere hours earlier. Seven distant spots, yet to each there seemed only the space for one - the anticipation was the real killer up here.

The Iron Elks would be resting in the southwest-most corner of the summit, as was tradition. He figured that to be quite unfortunate - they'd have to be downwind of the Hag Rams all over again.
(Make sure to edit your post if you need to tack on an additional comment - makes it easier to read and less traffic-throttling)

Hmmm...well, I can see that going in one of three directions:

1. He's a shaman/shaman's apprentice that particularly loves battle (despite the usual wisdom of shamans) - perhaps he feels he'd put his "skills" to better use against the enemy than his friends.

2. He's a warrior with some small, random level of talent in conjuring; He uses these random outbursts of unexpected power (spitting acid, scalding people with his hand, sneezing fire, et-cetera) to compliment a serious lack of combat skill...and/or to supplement a weaker physique (perhaps he unknowingly has a tape-worm and can never seem to get enough food to build up a good amount of muscle).

3. He's the child of a Ranaruun slave, a byproduct of those brought with certain clans during their exodus, those made to serve as generational stewards and lackeys to powerful members within these "families." Having been brought up among the Iron Elks, he considers himself an Ulgothen, and seeks to prove his loyalty (and perhaps earn his freedom) by tapping into the power of his particular genetic disposition. Also, his master(s) may or may not be attempting to get rid of a potential risk by simply chucking him into the first battle available - even barbarians are somewhat wary of the dangers of an enraged or underappreciated magic-user.


@Shadow Dragon

(>_>) - "It's not a phase!" (...he says while unknowingly melting into the wall.)

Anyway, I'll get on to working up the introductory post - the clans make camp atop Krolm's Anvil after a weary march, preparing for the traditional bloodshed to come in the morning.

(...and there isn't a way to delete posts, sadly - so be careful in how you execute them!)
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