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    posted a message on Mars II
    Quote from AllyCryheart»

    Name: Emily Riverwood


    Unfortunately, I have a few things which will not allow me to accept this application in its current form.

    Foremost is the 'Alexandria's Genesis' syndrome. Since it is an fake condition, I'm afraid you won't be able to use it here. Implementing some sort of genetic alteration - even a beneficial one - by a different name and with slightly different symptoms - and even if the syndrome is fictional - would be acceptable, though, and I'd love to discuss this point more over PM.

    Second - and I should have made this clear in the OP - is that you don't need to spend time detailing clothes, as the mission would have prescribed 'uniforms'/'suits'.

    That's all that I see for now. Edit your application to reflect these alterations, and I'll re-assess. Thanks in advance.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on General Roleplaying Discussion and Information Thread

    This has almost certainly been discussed before, but I'm sure many people could add new insights on the subject. So, in all of your opinions, what's more important in convincing you to join a roleplay: an interesting plot, or an interesting setting?

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    Lilian was healed from her last endeavour, the shielder was a tough opponent, her head was still hurting a slight amount even after the healers have done their work. She made a new friend, Vaati, the shielder that she went up against, though as per usual, she'd cut off any means of friendship between him and her after she leaves the city. She hated doing this, but she rather not have anyone else caught in her shenanigans.

    Her name was called after a short while, she was off to fight someone else. She readied her spear and made her way to the arena, she readied herself for the worst, she didn't even know what her enemy would be. To her knowledge, she was the only half-elf in the city, and she was not about to live that down.


    Qrin was always an early riser, and this day was no different. To him, it truly felt no different. To some this would have been an advantage, as it would give them calmer nerves; to others, a lack of mental preparation would have been a gross disadvantage. Qrin did not care enough to determine whether he was benefited or not.

    He spoke to no one. For the entire night, and that next morning, he did not speak. Even as he waited to enter the arena, he had no words for the guards or healers. When at last his name was called and he meandered out onto the sands, he gave no attention to the few fans he had won from the day before. He was, instead, deep in thought.

    What troubled him this day was a dream he had endured the night before. It was a dream of grass and a long, winding road. The road was mostly empty, but then along came a lizard. Qrin looked at the lizard. The lizard looked at Qrin. For a moment, there was an understanding between the two of them.

    Now, though, when it was only himself who he had to understand, Qrin was at a loss. The dream could have been real, could it not? The sensations of the dream, while dulled compared to the sensations he sometimes felt in this world of sand, could have been the real sensations. Did it not make sense that his brain could produce stronger reactions than the world's interactions with him? The brain was a powerful tool. Surely its confines could be less real - or more real.

    As you might tell, Qrin was deeply distracted, and deeply distraught. This fight was a backdrop in the one reality he could never escape - but whether that made it real, or a subconscious prison, he could never tell.


    Lilian felt her ears flinch, something was off, something was definitely off. This sinking feeling was something she had before, but what was it? Well, her name was called, however it wasn't anyone who was running the arena. It was just the shielder, he called her name and Lilian thought it was time for battle. Something was off today, and that was Lilian herself.

    "Vaati, you sound way too much like the king when you call my name." Said Lilian

    "Do I? My apologies good friend! I just want to wish you good luck out there, you'll never know what you'll be fighting out there you know." Replied Vaati

    "Much appreciated, I do thi-" Lilian was cut off by the sound of the actual king calling her name.

    She gripped her spear and felt this thundering presence from the king's voice. She started to walk, she walked passed Vaati and left the inn they were staying in. Vaati yelled out a quick good luck as Lilian walked out the door. Lilian looked back at the one she was going to have to leave behind soon, shame really, she was starting to think he'd be a good companion to have around, especially with that massive shield. Whatever, she wasn't one to make friends anyway.


    In the middle of the arena there was nothing but a deep emptiness - a strange serenity, as if all the souls who had been lost long ago in the days of barbarism were now sucking the noise into their dead dimension, grasping at some last sensation of the mortal world they had once loved but now had left. Qrin wandered through that void and felt neither calmed nor unsettled - he was already too unnerved for anything to make him more aware of his feeble grasp on this world.

    Old men wander, new men hunt. Qrin had heard this saying once, when he was but a young bugling. Of course, at the time, it had been in his own language. Translated to the tongue of the humans it had the same meaning, but only if the words were changed as he had changed them above. Qrin had, as a young man, hunted for answers. Still today he hunted, but now he did it with less purpose behind each step, and more of a desperate hope. As a young bug, Qrin had thought he understood the adage; he had thought that old men were confident and wise enough to know that the answer would come to them. Now, though, he thought he saw a different, depressing truth: old men were young men undone, their ambition churned into a paste of despair and their purpose divined into just what he felt: desperation that chance would save them when they themselves could not.

    Qrin really could not care for the battle he was prepared to fight; it paled against the turmoils he faced daily. This tournament had shown him no chances for freedom of the soul - not yet.


    Lilian still had this odd feeling inside her chest, like something terrible was going to happen, like some Griffin attack or something, not like it would be the first time she'd experience that, but still. She stood behind the gate, the only think preventing her from entering the arena, was a large iron gate that needed to be lifted up a lever. She ran her finger down the hilt of her spear and gulped, why was she feeling nervous all of a sudden? Lilian was never the type to get nervous, especially in fights. She let out a deep breath, she kept her head down to keep the sun from shining on her eyes as the gate lifted up, revealing the arena, the arena in which she gladly fought in already.

    "Tch, morning battles..." Muttered Lilian under her breath.

    She took one step forward, followed by another, and another, and so on till she was far enough from the gate. The gate then slammed down, almost shaking the ground from it's pure weight. She glanced up, just to see who she was facing, but the light shining down kept her from doing so, though, whatever it was, it didn't look human at all. That's what the sinking feeling was, fighting other races that didn't resemble humans, something she still had trouble doing. Why? Was she racist? No, absolutely not, her knowledge in the current world isn't as exceptional as people accustomed to living already. She still continued to learn, but what the hell was that?

    She blinked, and squinted her eyes, trying her absolute hardest to find out what it was. All she could get from it, was it was frightening and dangerous, and she needed to fight it.


    A human, Qrin saw. The ground reverberated. The gate had just slammed shut. Eddies of sand still swirled. A dangerous human.

    The spear flickered in the sunlight. Mirage, Qrin convinced himself; this could not be some sign of a faltering portion of reality. While many adversaries would inspect each others' faces to catch sight of anger, fear, confidence, or exhaustion, Qrin ignored this and studied where the human stood. Reading the cues and emotions of another species was like identifying a tree based on the pattern its roots left in the ground. Anger, fear - they could be discerned in many individuals. Deeper thoughts and inclinations were invisible to the untrained, unnatural eye.

    All the same, 'dangerous human' seemed a fitting description for this one.


    She tried her absolute hardest to shake off any odd feelings at this time, being distracted in a fight is never a good sign. She didn't want to be easily caught off guard, especially with an opponent like that, she had never seen one before, she had no idea what they were capable of, and like she thought of before, it was frightening.

    Everyone she fought was always significantly taller than she was, she was a massive disadvantage when it comes to range even with a spear. She ran her fingers down the base of the spear strapped to her back and let out a sigh, trying to find a way to defeat this creature.


    "Well, when you're ready!" Artemisius urged on his gladiators in the arena below. The audience doesn't like deep, emotional staring with layers of complexity and contemplation of the human experience - they want action! Bam, bam! Swords to the stomach! Death to the Ztaari! The underdog and the home team wins!

    Qrin doubted that he would be the first to attack, but even he could be blinded by prescience. More so, he knew this fight, once begun, would likely be short. There would be no dramatic exchange of pleasantries or curses - at least, not on his part. The fight would be swift and vicious, like the murder of beasts in the desert. He hoped only that he would not be the beast at the end, lying dead with entrails spilling out onto the harsh, granular sand.


    Lilian unsheathed her spear, and shifted her grip from it, the sword-like spear was being held like a long sword at this point, thinking she might get a good opening strike with this move. She kept the blade pointed down and ran towards the him, trying to go for an early blow via stab at the liver area.


    Qrin anticipated the blow, waiting for his opponent to arrive and studying her as she approached. His stance was calm, but prepared for agility. Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump. He felt the reverberations now as he often felt those of worms in the desert. Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump - out! And Qrin bolted, flying in a powerful dive across the sand with his staff extending to hopefully pierce the flesh on the human's neck or face. His species had evolved for incredible agility on this exact terrain. They had a light, weak exoskeleton to minimize their weight, but powerful legs to maximize their power. With this evolutionary advantage, Qrin had only to time his escape correctly. His experience had made him skillful in this calculation, but no normal organism could be even close to perfect at predicting angles, speeds, and chances. Luck would be one of his great weapons in this and other battles.


    "Tch" Lilian indignantly let out.

    She was too slow, and too reckless, something that she always hated being, and yet there she was in another situation that could lead to her demise or at least a defeat. She wasn't having that, she moved her shoulders back along with her neck, whatever his weapon was, she barely dodged it. The sharp bit scraped her cheek, a strip of crimson had now appeared on her cheek. She took a step back and tried to regain her senses, trying to adapt to the situation. The way she held the spear shifted, She placed her right hand by the middle of the spear, and had the long hilt run up behind her shoulder, letting the tip face down. She was in a more balanced position, her left hand was placed behind her back as if she was acting like a noble. Her eyes quivered, she still wasn't sure what that thing was.


    Barely yet gracefully, Qrin escaped the human's first charge. He landed with an audible 'thump' against the sand and rolled back to his feet. Standing again, he turned with unforeseen leisure to face his opponent. He could see from this short distance that blood now sparked on pale flesh. He surmised that his staff was the cause, and a glance to his weapon confirmed this.

    But, what to do next? Qrin was not per se a hunter; rather, he was a survivalist. In a more peaceful desert, a different lifestyle would be forced upon its wanderers. As it was, the beasts which attacked were both relentless, hence they were always to be defended against, and nutritious, thus they took the role of food after they were almost inevitably slain. As such, instinct told Qrin to wait for an attack, and then to counter. Action - change - makes us vulnerable as it makes us in a new form.

    Qrin, though, was far too old to safely grow anew.


    Lilian tightened her grip against her spear, and paced around her opponent, grinding the spear tip against the ground. She was thinking, and seeing how she almost died a few seconds ago, she couldn't just rush in there and do whatever she wanted. Adapt to the situation, the perfect plan, she inched her way towards him, attacks in quick succession should work. She then lunged forward, trying to jab the dart of the spear against his lower body multiple times, one handing was something Lilian was infamous for. She was one of the few people who could one hand a spear longer than her, as if the weight didn't do anything to her.


    If Qrin could have dodged the first thrust, he may well have dodged every one afterwards for quite some time. Alas, that first approach of the spear pierced his exoskeleton, the chitin cracking and allowing fluids to begin seeping out. Qrin felt a deep unease overcome him; in the desert, to have one's exoskeleton pierced would often mean excruciating and certain death. On one hand, the prospect of death intrigued him. However, he was not yet ready to face this possibility finale to his quest. He would not explore the afterlife today.

    Reacting to his painful situation preoccupied Qrin enough that he was stabbed twice more; one blow widened the first wound and the other opened a new wound closer to the centre of his abdomen. Qrin hissed in pain, and retreated a few steps more to finally escape this flurry of assault. He looked at his wounds, and then at his opponent. Even handicapped, he might still win.

    In contrast to the cuts and jabs which had proliferated in the match thus far, Qrin's revenge would come in the form of a blunt-ended assault, his staff swinging forward in a motion which would slam its side into the spear which he needed to evade. This would, hopefully, knock the tip of the spear into the ground, and from there Qrin could perhaps knock the human across the face, again with a bladeless portion of his weapon.


    Lilian felt a source of comfort after she had pierced his stomach, she might actually win after being obviously out-skilled by a creature such at this. This was her first mistake, she saw the creature's weapon swing down, this caught her off guard, she barely blocked it but the force of the weapon was too strong, the spear tip slammed down into the ground and had Lilian slide a few feet backwards. That blow was absolutely devastating, she didn't expect something so strong to have happen. Her wrists were feeling week, even if she was known to one hand spears, she had to two hand that blow just keep her wrist from breaking.

    Why was she being cocky? Why did she have to act like her chances of winning were absolute? She was probably done for, but then she thought of small little move she learned in her travels. She extended her spear backwards and spun around, using the back end of the spear to sweep the creature of it's feet.


    Slam! A flash of twirling sky, and then Qrin was lying on his back, his legs injured even more. The extreme weakness of his carapace lent itself to injure easily, and now, twice-injured and growing faint, it was such a huge disadvantage that Qrin could see no victory. He wondered if this was the advent of death.

    With no time to regain his footing - such an act would require great strength and care - Qrin raised his staff, hoping to counter any blow the human might make against his unprotected stomach. Like a beetle tipped over on a stony path, he was open to attack. Defenceless. He had won battles from this exact position when he was a far younger bug, with a form untainted by the trials of kansani. Now, though, he was an old bug. Wisdom and insanity were little compensation for this death.


    Not allowed to kill, not allowed to kill, not allowed to kill.

    The thought repeated in her head like a broken record, she raised her spear, gripping the bandaged wrapped pole and winded up a downward thrust, hoping this creature was to yield before it even came down. If the Gods had mercy something would prevent her from wanting to spill blood today, but what was it? Why was her drive to murder this creature she knew nothing about so strong? She couldn't kill in the arena, but she was holding back.

    As she let out that downwards thrust she heard the clash of her spear against his staff. After that attack had failed, she took a step back and leapt in the air, giving her spear a quick twirl and slashing down at him like a blade.


    One parry was luck; two would be skill. Alas, there would be no second parry, for Qrin chose to stab rather than block, hoping his staff might be longer than her spear. Imagine if all those abominations of the sands were like this one - we wanderers would have much shorter lives, he thought, but then corrected himself. No, the abominations are just as deadly as this human. It is our experience with them which makes them less dangerous to us in old age.

    His staff pierced air, it's sharpened, hooked blade jutting upwards towards the stomach of the human. The sun still was blinding, but his opponent made a silhouette across its light.

    Then, suddenly, the blade of the spear came between him and his opponent. It slashed through his exoskeleton, ripping him to shreds. He felt unimaginable pain, and thought briefly that it must be real, and that this would be his death. His staff had been thrown away by the shock of the injury; the only mark he would leave on this human was the small gash across her face. Two plus three and the - he thought aimlessly, before unconsciousness set itself upon him and his thoughts left the present.


    This was it, a battle that nearly killed her, this opponent was scary. Blocking it's attacks barely meant a block, and it even meant that blocking wasn't exactly the most useful thing since everytime she blocked it knocked her back a few feet. What was this thing? That didn't matter now, she let out a sigh and raised her spear once more, getting ready for the finishing blow. As she grit her teeth, she felt her legs quiver.

    She yelled out one more time, before thrusting down her spear, the head of her spear stuck right to the left side of his head, a few inches away from hitting him in the head. She still wasn't allowed to kill, nor did she plan to, she spilled enough blood today, she didn't want any more for the time being. The crowd went silent as the spear hit the ground, the king himself gasped, thinking that Lilian would strike the poor creature down. Though that wasn't the case. The king then called out that Lilian had one, ending the match right then and there.

    Lilian was breathing heavily, she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks from her current after-fight look. She losing breath, she was tired, a fight like that where she was most likely to lose was insanely tiresome for her. She pulled her spear away, and sheathed it behind her. She held out her hand for the creature.

    "Goo... Good... Ha... Match... Huff, hu... You were... Haa... A tough... Oh gosh, oh Gods... Haa~... Opponent..." Lilian stated.

    "Name's Lilia- Lilith, name's Lilith."


    As the medic mages rushed forward and the crowd cheered in tones of wild exhilaration, it became clear that the Ztaari was in no state to reply. His wounds spurted fluids and his limbs did not move. As he was transported out of the arena, the mages worked desperately to keep him alive. The facts were that his age and his nature had meant that he would be on the brink of death when he lost, no matter how merciful his opponent happened to be. He was a weak old fool; only by avoiding injury had he kept breathing.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mars II

    Welcome to a roleplay which will, with any luck, incorporate intrigue and excitement into a fun, mystery-based, semi-structured plot RP.


    This RP takes place several decades in the future. A large war occurred about a decade ago.

    The war was short, and while some nuclear weapons were fired, none were allowed to explode before they reached their target thanks to efficient anti-missile systems. The result was a restructuring of the world which resulted in the consolidation of several African and Asian power groups, as well as shifting boundaries and balances of superiority for several high-power groups. The major powers of the world in this new post-war era are China (territory expanded, population decimated, but power now restored), the European Union (reformed and revitalized), Brazil (territory expanded by the annexation of several nearby countries, and though still facing social strife the technology of the government is on par with other major powers), the North African Union (benefiting from large natural resource deposits and good relations with the EU), Canada (relatively unaffected by the war), and the US (cultural divide largely overcome thanks to devastation of the war and postwar reconstruction efforts). While many disagreements abound between these powers, they have re-formed a United Nations organization.

    Environmentally the earth has smartened up; green energy technology largely replaced fossil fuels as a matter of necessity during the war. Some endangered species thrive again, but humanity still has ways of really disturbing the environment. So, it’s not all green grass and blue skies.

    Superficially, society is still rather similar. Social media has helped to connect much of the world’s cultural. There are no flying cars, teleportation technology, or true hoverboards, though cars are decidedly more advanced. Nothing has replaced the smart phone.

    However, technology has exploded in the new postwar period, and with this the drive to explore the solar system has been reborn. The population at large is eager to send astronauts to Mars, especially as they themselves enjoy access to ever-cheaper commercial spaceflight.

    Little do they know, astronauts have already gone to Mars. The mission which brought them there was called Mars I; it began roughly a year and a half ago. After six months of travel, a team of astronauts reached the planet, where they set up a base of operations.

    Now it is time for Mars II. The planets have reached the proper alignment to allow for the shortest trip possible between the two planets, and the government responsible for the original trip is ready to find the best scientists, engineers, doctors, and soldiers this world has to offer.

    The public, dreaming of Martian colonization and exploration, has no idea that the land of their dreams has been reached. And the crew of the Mars II mission may not know the whole story, either.


    This will be a limited-acceptance roleplay, although the limit will be based on demand. Likewise, this roleplay will only run if it can reach a minimum number of characters, too.

    On top of that, characters cannot be your Average Joe. Not everyone gets sent to Mars! Characters will have to be exceptional in one of the fields mentioned above, or another one which both the applicant and I agree is acceptable.

    Here’s an application form:

    Name: Self explanatory.

    Gender: Self explanatory.

    Age: 25-50, but it has to be reasonable when the backstory is considered.

    Appearance: Photos are acceptable, but a written description is preferred.

    Strengths: Including field of expertise and occupation.

    Weaknesses: Everyone’s got ‘em, but nobody wants ‘em.

    History: Tell me who they are.

    Personality: Optional.

    Other: Optional.

    Copy/Paste-Friendly Version:











    Ah, rules and guidelines - those directives which dictate all that a roleplay can and will be. Let us not waste time.

    1. Be realistic. This includes the prohibition of metagaming, power-playing, etc. If you feel as though realism is interfering with your enjoyment of the roleplay, PM me and we’ll sort it out.
    2. Write well. Make your writing comprehensible (which shouldn’t be a problem on this forum). Give enough details for others to reply. Keep things interesting. Don’t feel pressured to write thirty-paragraph posts, but do if you want to.
    3. Stay active. Post when you can, and if you can’t, let us know so we can work around that. If there is less than one post per week, there is probably a problem.
    4. Play nice. If you have a problem with someone else’s character, actions, decisions, comments - if there’s anything which upsets or annoys you - don’t lash out. That only makes things worse. Instead, PM me and we’ll sort it out.
    5. Have fun. It might be cliché, but it’s also essential. If we aren’t having fun, then the roleplay is a failure, and will soon succumb to that failure. So, if you aren’t having fun, PM me. We’ll sort it out.

    Got questions? Ask.

    Interested in joining? Apply.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]
    Quote from BookWyrm17»

    I suppose I'll do moderatory stuffs. Sorta.
    Interesting app, that's for sure. This is gonna be fun.

    Too professional; your moderating skills exceed reasonable limits.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]
    Quote from Scarfking»

    Gamelord answered the second question as i would have. As for the first, yes, only if the mix makes sense. A Dwarf and a Ztaari wouldn't exactly be "compatible", would they? So you wouldnt be able to play as a half-dwarf-half-ztaari.

    Would the T'kal and the Naga be considered compatible with the Elves, Dwarves, and Humans?
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    A while after he and the T'kal had suffered their tense conversation, Qrin was deep in thought.

    The sounds and other senses of the arena were gone, mere background noise as Qrin fell deeper into contemplation.

    Before him he saw a room. There was an old, rusted table before him. Behind the table, two doors. On the table, a sword, a disgusting, slithering centipede-like creature, and a skull. Pale sunlight filtered in through windows Qrin could not turn to see, creating the flecks of dust which otherwise would be as good as nonexistent. Qrin leaned against his staff, found it was not there, and then realized he did not need it - he could lean against thin air.

    Some cosmic entity wanted him to examine the sword and the centipede and the skull; it wanted him to contemplate the symbolism of the doors and the pattern of where the light fell. Some cosmic entity was doing their best to send Qrin a message, but Qrin used this opportunity to think of things in which he was actually interested. The dust spiralled around him. Muffled noises made the air stuffy.

    A flicker of glint on the sword's metal tried to draw Qrin's attention. He really could not care.

    This! This is important! The centipede seemed to hiss. It squirmed and rolled and crawled, but it never moved. It always remained anchored in the centre of the table. Qrin was unperturbed - he had seen stranger creatures in the desert's wilds.

    A haunt emanated from the skull's black void of an interior. The cavities for eyes and tongues gaped and grinned and taunted. If he had looked closely, and if he had been an anthropologist or a genius or a biologist or a murderer, Qrin would have seen that it was not a human skull as it had first appeared. He did not look, however, since his eyes were closed and his thoughts were adrift.

    With a universal sigh, the room collapsed and Qrin opened his eyes. He felt a gust of wind pushing him - and then realized it was a series of hands, trying to force him into the arena. He walked.

    If he had been listening, he would have been warned as to who his opponent was, but he was not listening, and now it did not matter, as his opponent had already entered the arena. Descending the short distance to the blood-cauldron sands, Qrin inspected his opponent. It was a male Ztaari - he could tell the difference - and it was no desert wanderer such as himself. This Ztaari was well-fed and well-endowed. His armour covered chest, back, arms, and legs. The feet were left unencumbered so their evolutionary purpose of adding friction against sand was allowed to assist the fighter, while the head with its large eyes and the hands with their dexterous digits also proved to be better left unguarded. Qrin cocked his head to the side, wondering. The armoured Ztaari watched Qrin with a confident superiority.

    Qrin emanated that same superiority, latently. His indifference suggested a lack of concern, which suggested a confidence unnatural to most. His lack of expressions also suggested a lack of interest - either arrogance, confusion, or excitement. He was a most odd opponent.

    "Lookin' pretty confident, desert-dweller," the other Ztaari said as Qrin came close enough for them to speak. "How many desert beasts have you taken down?"

    Qrin, not one for talking in general, did not respond.

    "Well, let me assure you that those sand-squirmers aren't worth a rock against my steel," the Ztaari grinned, though Qrin wondered if he was not scenting the slightest hint of concern or anxiety.

    As he settled himself into a comfortable position, Qrin's foe drew his long, serrated blade. The extravagance of the ornamentation elicited a few gasps from the crowd. The sword was like a row of giant teeth, perfect for tearing huge swaths of flesh out of its opponents. Qrin thought he might not die if that sword hit him, but he was nearly certain that he would lose a limb. His only defence would have been the length of his staff, but the sword was long, too. It shone with an aura of beautiful terror and perfect machinery as the Ztaari heaved it into the air. Qrin noted that it was a struggle for the sword to be lifted. Ztaari, after all, were not exceptionally strong - and that sword was certainly heavier than the average blade.

    It was excessive, Qrin decided, and that would be his best asset.

    The fight began and the sword-wielder charged.

    Qrin stood his ground. The Ztaari marched towards him. He did not charge; his loads were too heavy for speed or agility. A whisper of a hiss slipped out of his mouth. Qrin stood immobile.

    Then, when they were close enough, the competitors sprung into action.

    The audience, its breath baited due to the suspense and the oddity of this particular match, foresaw the attack made by Jryan, the armoured Ztaari. His sword, held above his head, had to come down, and it began to do so just as Qrin's staff flew into the Ztaari's unprotected head. A gasp consumed the stadium. Everyone had studied the glistening metal spike which adorned the staff. Jryan must have been impaled, or at least in serious pain from tearing. Perhaps he was even blind.

    Yet as Jryan stumbled back, no blood, no shouts of pain, no crippling blindness overcame him. His left hand released the sword, allowing it to fall to the ground even as his right hand still grasped it firmly. The left hand flew to his face and he felt there for the source of the pain, but soon all became clear. Qrin had by now retracted his staff and had spun it back into the resting position in which it had already been, but it was that spinning which solved the mystery. When attacking, Qrin had flicked his staff's duller end towards Jryan, sparing the Ztaari from permanent damage. Impressed, the crowd's surprise subsided into a hushed whisper of respect.

    As Jryan turned his injured head to look at his opponent with a new understanding of exactly how skilled he was, the sword suddenly slipped from his hand. Jryan was not fast enough, and suddenly Qrin was immediately in front of him, a foot entrapping the sword and a dull staff clanging against Jryan's armour. The Ztaari flew and landed sprawling on the sandy floor.

    The victory became clear, and Qrin returned to the ruins. He had endured much longer fights in the desert. He felt no more present, nor any more alive, than he usually did, and for that, he was disappointed.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    The Ztaari looked over to the T'Kal and seemed frightened. He recoiled and gripped his staff with both his hands, balancing himself with a more agile stance. He had turned away from the fight entirely, and had all of his attention focused on Iris.

    He had been so sure that he could be safe here, that he could pretend to be in a real world. Of course, he had known, even when his visions had first plagued him, that the T'Kal were a real people. That was why he knew to fear them. Somewhere, there were evil bird-people - perhaps the T'Kal, perhaps some mutated form of their species, or perhaps something else entirely - who had attacked and ripped his body to shreds. He had seen in yokan this truth, and he had given it much thought. If yokan was reality, then T'Kal were to be guarded against. If yokan was a figment of the mind, then a subconscious part of Qrin told him to fear them. Either truth gave Qrin so many reasons to fear the T'Kal.

    Here, in front him, stood a T'Kal.


    At first Iris thought she had taken the Ztaari by surprise. She thought that he had just been too busy watching the fight below to notice her presence. Maybe she should have coughed or something to announce her presence before talking. But as time wore on, it became clear that something else was wrong other than her possibly startling him. Either that or he really did not like being surprised.

    The way the Ztaari's attention was focussed on Iris, it seemed like the reaction was something other than mere surprise. Was he... frightened? Something had to be wrong to cause such a reaction in the Ztaari. Iris glanced at the arena and back at the Ztaari a couple of times while she considered what to say next. Now a little confused and a little nervous, Iris spoke.

    "Uh, the fight... Who do you think will win?" she asked again, sounding less cheerful. A couple of seconds passed and then she said, "Is something wrong?"


    Qrin clucked his teeth nervously, the equivalent of a human's mouth hanging open, but by the time the T'Kal asked her second question, he had recovered enough to speak. Fear is the mind-killer. Calm as still water.

    "No. I am okay," Qrin said, but found the action hurt. He spoke too quickly, for someone used to such slow words and slow reactions. He was nervous, and he wondered if the fear had not killed him, but had given him more life and presence. He was suddenly aware.

    He remembered, clearly now, why he had entered the desert.

    This fear - this constant presence, and the knowledge of his own mortality - was horrifying. He hated every inch of his own body when he was scared. He was useless and hopeless! He was a fool with a broken leg - nay, two broken legs, and matching arms!

    But in the deserts, it did not matter how many legs were broken - he could always have more. He could have the thousand legs of the millipedes, or the thirty arms of Psu-M'gannon. The desert offered freedom from the fate which his visions foretold.

    This was a fool's errand, he thought as he remembered why he had left. Stupid! I have grown weak in old age. His eyes flickered around and he searched for an escape, but he knew that he had made a promise to be here. Stupid! I have grown weak in old age, he thought, without realizing that he had repeated himself. Then he knew why fear was called the mind killer.

    The mind was still water. Fear was the raindrop which broke the surface. Fear was the agent of chaos.


    Although the Ztaari said that he was alright, Iris doubted that it was true. He seemed nervous, but not quite as much as before. The T'Kal couldn't help but wonder why they were acting that way. Was it the tournament they were worried about? She didn't think so, the Ztaari only started seeming nervous after she talked to him. Were they afraid of the other competitors? Maybe, but that didn't explain why they didn't seem scared at first.

    Could it be her? Could it be that the Ztaari was afraid of her? The thought had crossed her mind. The first time that it popped into her head she dismissed it. But the continued nervousness made her doubt her initial judgement. She needed more information. Perhaps if she tried talking to them for a little while she could figure out exactly what was wrong.

    But what should they try to talk about? Iris has had plenty of conversations before, she had been a merchant for quite some time. She has had practice in talking to all kinds of people; men and women, young and old. Once she had thought of something to say Iris spoke in a calm voice.

    "My name is Iris" she said, "Are you anticipating your turn to fight?"


    "Iris," Qrin mumbled, repeating the name in a barely audible hiss. That is not so threatening a name, he argued, and consciously fought to recognize this 'Iris' as a non-threat. However, in his hind-brain, which should not at this time be called a lizard hind-brain, for Qrin was a bug and not at all a lizard, Qrin felt the twist of organic gears and the click of clocks as the name 'Iris' was chained away in a cell adjacent to the one where his recollection of yokan was secured behind layers upon layers of hardened stone. If those memories escaped, his mind - what little of it was still useful - would be no more.

    "It is," Qrin said, loudly this time, "what it is." His back still hunched in a defensive stance, and his head swaying horizontally in a scanning motion, Qrin kept his eyes focused on Iris. It took quite an effort to force this upon himself. "My name - is Qrin," he added, foregoing the remainder of his title, 'Tkali'. That name would only bring questions.


    "Nice to meet you Qrin" Iris said, taking care in pronouncing his name correctly.

    Although Qrin's posture still seemed defensive, Iris had begun to think that the nervous feeling she had seen had diminished, at least a little. Although she couldn't be sure, it wasn't as if she could read his mind. Her thoughts conjured up the idea of how much easier it would be to make a sale if she could read the customer's minds. If she could read minds, she thought it wouldn't be hard to find out what to say in order to convince a customer to buy a vase or a dagger or whatever she had at her stall that day.

    She turned her attention back to Qrin. What had caused him to be so nervous earlier? What if it was her? She had thought of that, but couldn't be sure. Maybe Qrin just nervous around strangers. If that was the case, then maybe talking calmly might help.

    "When do you think our turns in the arena will come?" she asked.


    "Yours before mine," Qrin replied. He had been asked what he thought, and that was what he had thought to reply with. He did not know why he felt as though his time would come later, but he did. His mind was astray and he could not nail down any single thought long enough to examine it and understand it. Warily, he glanced back to the battle. The human dove, seemingly trying to slash at the Ztaari's leg, but the bug narrowly side-stepped the attack and the man rolled onto his feet again. Now, however, he was behind his opponent, with a clear advantage.

    Qrin turned back to Iris. He would not let any threat have yet another advantage over him.

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    posted a message on Lurk on monsters OCC (Accepting)

    Alright, I'll keep my eyes out for that revival. Good luck with this roleplay in the meantime!

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    posted a message on Lurk on monsters OCC (Accepting)
    Quote from stashalee»

    This could go on for a long time when there is a enough people. I feel you on Horizon Ascending... I had a second thought on that for a moment while reading your reply to revive the topic. But it isn't so popular, since the world is so big on that RP.

    Alright, I'll be sure to check in on this if I ever have time for another roleplay.

    As for Horizon Ascending - well, you would definitely have me. I'd make time for that roleplay. If Barryonix ever came back, and had a bit of time, I bet that he would jump in too. Not sure about the others - I think most of them are still around - but there could always be new members. I don't know, with a few changes, it might be the space opera RP this forum needs. I feel like the big world isn't as much of a problem as it's often made out to be, but in the case of HA, I think the larger problem was the lack of an over-arching plot. (Which, trust me, would have developed itself if the RP had had time to grow.)

    Whatever happens, HA is a roleplay I will miss.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Lurk on monsters OCC (Accepting)

    How long will this be accepting? I won't be joining right now, but I may eventually want to. Either way, I like the idea. Good luck!

    Also, on a very off-topic subject, I really enjoyed Horizon Ascending, while it lasted. So, just felt like saying that.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    "Silence," Qrin had hissed, and the Ztaari who spoke all around him had shut their mouths, and then transferred to whispering tones. It had been at least the middle of the night, and on his small cot, the old bug had been struggling to sleep. The slow hum of clicking chatter around the hall had been infuriating, but it had kept Qrin from dreaming, which was good. Any moment absent from the horrors of his thoughts was a moment well spent.

    Alas, even the hushed tones which the Ztaari had now adopted did nothing to allow Qrin to sleep. He sighed and stood, pushing his way past the younger Ztaari whose voices grew as he departed. He re-entered the old hall where they had been eating, and, finding a clean and empty corner, he lay himself to rest.

    At one point in the night, he had felt a stirring - a sensation as if something of a grand presence had passed by in the night. It was disconcerting, and his dreams darkened as he felt it, but he could not wake, despite his best efforts. When morning came, he still thought of the strange presence, and was glad that he had woken up at all. He wondered, eerily, whether that presence had been Death, or a premonition thereof. He wondered if the deity had wandered the halls as all slept, marking the victims who would be taken the next morning, and the morning after. He wondered if he himself had been marked, of if he had been spared, and that was why he had not been able to wake.

    He then wondered just how crazy he really was.

    Now, though, it was time for the tournament to begin. 128 competitors, 127 matches, and hopefully, 7 wins for a certain Ztaari wanderer. In a much more approachable mood than the night before, nor any time in years, in fact, Qrin strode to the front of the viewing area which the warriors enjoyed from within the warriors. His back slightly hunched, and a pillar supporting his weight as his staff was held firmly away from his feet, Qrin stared out at the arena, and at the two warriors currently enjoying the first match. His face held a grimace of a Ztaari smile, weathered, aged, and decrepit from years and years of degeneration, but still a smile. Perhaps, even a grin.

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    posted a message on Nations of Paxit

    -Vaterlandische Confederacy-


    ((Could you indicate where the militia is located? Especially whether it is in the Southern Kurubar occupied territories or the Mylanese occupied territories.))
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    posted a message on Paxit - A Tale of War and Conquest [Always Accepting] [OOC]

    @1accountforumroleplaying: Definitely accepted. Feel free to begin posting whenever you wish.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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