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About AngryCacti

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  • Birthday April 16

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    Comic books
    Building/COSTUMES <---- (a.k.a. Why I'm broke)
  • Occupation
    (A long tortured) Student

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    AngryCacti #9918

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  1. Some decent picrews that I found. vvv https://picrew.me/image_maker/114808 https://picrew.me/image_maker/4893 https://picrew.me/image_maker/6867 https://picrew.me/image_maker/43383 https://picrew.me/image_maker/12057
  2. Sure. You have to hear about a lot of them via word-of mouth otherwise you won’t find much good on a web search. A lot of them are specific to girls too.
  3. You know, as silly as the picrew trend can be, it’s honestly such a useful tool for doing simple character art/concepts for us non-artsy folk.
  4. She breaks it up into acts so it feels like you’re reading 3 books in one. There’s a lot of good stoppping points that allow for a short break if need be. And I haven’t read her other books, though I’ve heard they’re very good. I only started reading this one because it fell off the shelf on the other end of the aisle in an empty book store. Now, I don’t know about you, but if the bookstore ghosts want me to read a book then I guess I’m reading that book.
  5. Working my way through The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. It’s got good action, multiple lgbt characters, and detailed world building. And dragons. It has lots of dragons.
  6. At least 40 of those clicks are me because I have big D(umbass) energy and keep forgetting some of the basic things that the guide so helpfully explains.
  7. My sincerest thanks for the level of effort, detail, and chaos that went into those posts. I loved it 😁. Alright let’s go chaos mode!
  8. It doesn’t look good for me, guys. Maybe my happy cactus face would give my party a moral boost? Would I even have sentience? Oh no. I don’t want to be a plant. I don’t know how to photosynthesis!
  9. AngryCacti

    Kris Oblita

    Name: Kristin “Kris” Oblitia Age: 38 Race: Human Alignment: neutral good Role: Medic Location: Taen [[Physical]] Hair: Red/Brown, straight, and tied up out of her face. Eyes: Hazel Height: 5’8 Weight: 140lbs Voice: Rough and somewhat strained Build: Stocky, muscled [Clothing] Almost everything she owns is old or salvaged Upper body * Large brown shirt * Fatigue jacket * Tactical vest Lower * Jeans * Combat boots * Belt of gear (pouches, holster, canteen, etc..) Other * Army pack * Large overcoat/raincoat * Tarnished gold ring on left hand * Dog tags [[skills]] * Medical/first aid proficiency * Combat (hand-to-hand and firearm) * Survival skills [[ inventory]] * Basic medical supplies * Small, standard issue firearm (unloaded) * Canteen * Radio (broken) * Pack - camp supplies - Bedroll - Food - Materials * Tarp * Firestarter * Memory journal [Personality] General: Kris is a survivalist first and a medic second. She will typically ensure her needs are met before sacrificing anything to another. She’s met too many people to expect the best in any stranger. She values the group over the individual. She has a strong will and strong sense of justice. Her temper has cooled with age and experience so that when one does arouse her anger, they best be wary. She keeps going because it would be too much to stop. Motives: To survive and fix her memory Likes: Independence, Confidence, patience, organization, teamwork Dislikes: Being underground, dishonesty, blind acceptance, [[Backstory]] Kris’ first memory is of a blinding, all consuming, blue-green light. Her second memory was being spat into the wetlands of Taen with nothing but the contents of her pack, a set of skills she didn’t remember learning, and a rusted military identification tag with the name Kristin H. Oblita inscribed onto it. Whatever force plucked Kris from her homeland also damaged her memory. It’s effects still linger in her mind. At seemingly random times, Kris forgets a memory of indiscriminate size and importance, sometimes loosing only minutes, sometimes forgetting months. Memory comes and goes and leaves her in a constant state of flux. To keep a semblance of control, she keeps a journal of her memories, carefully chronicling the things she did, the people she met, and the places she’s been. Her journal is the most valuable thing she owns.
  10. The distance to the island from where the group had landed was not far, but far enough to cause trouble for a swimmer with a recently dislocated shoulder. As it was, Cerin flagged behind the group. The necromancer treaded water as the dead mass she connected to swam underneath her. The rest of paragons were either on shore or nearly there as she sunk down and felt her new servant. What remaining skin was there was soft and flaked off at her touch. The bones underneath suggested a large fish-like creature. At her touch, the fish surfaced and began to tow her towards land. Despite her new speed she was one of the last to arrive on shore. The rocky sand underneath her feet, the sound of a fire crackling nearby, and the movement of other paragons. Mercury wasn’t hard to find. Cerin put a hand on the young vampire’s arm and stood by the fire for as long as it took to be updated on the situation. Even from the beach, she could feel the power radiated from the jungle’s epicenter and it sent a shiver down her spine. She offered a faint “Thank you,” to the paragon who had set up the base before walking back to the water’s edge. The corpse was still waiting for her in the shallows. Cerin slipped off her shoes and hiked up the hem of her skirts to wade in next to it. She much preferred the quiet during this respite after the turmoil of the last hour. The animal was in a late stage of decay and it was easy to pry off bones and ligaments from the main structure. She bound a few together in the rough shape of a quadruped and blew life into it with her new powers. It tottered off across the sand by itself for a few meters and Cerin smiled. She went and sat back on the sand with her good arm carrying a bundle of bones, content to wait until the commander came back.
  11. Sounds more like the makings of Ataraxy’s lawyer-based supervillain origin story to me 😋
  12. Again, my apologies for taking so long for my response. I got that good ol’ vacation procrastination. Since I didn’t get any word back I started the attack. Dizzy, I tried to keep things ambiguous as to what Gachi was doing but if something I wrote doesn’t line up with what you’re doing, let me know and I’ll be happy to edit.
  13. Tana weaseled her way into the throng of fishermen. It didn’t take long to get to the front and find Avarice’s lackey. She couldn’t remember his name. Rot? Mot? Something like that. She didn’t care. He looked pissed anyways. “Fucking hell, this is the best you could come up with?” Tana glared at the assembled men, distaste obvious in the sour pucker of her mouth. Then, in an abrupt twist, she laughed, low and cackling, that lasted only long enough to unsettle a fisherman who had gotten too close behind her. Her eyes gleamed under her hood. “This’ll be fun.” She let a lazy drawl linger on the last word and stared directly at Roht. She tilted her chin to show a face of perfect innocence. “A shame our employer isn’t here to enjoy it.” The thief drew a knife from her waist and flipped it dramatically in the air. When she caught it again, her face was back to its cold, neutral expression, partially hidden in the shadow of her hood. “Gachi and I are going over the top. If little miss Tara shows up late, tell her don’t bother or else I will. Forcefully. With the sharp end of my knife.” Tana helpfully went through the motions. As amusing as Tara was, it was best to keep the competition out of the equation. Tana waited until she saw Gachi or until five minutes had passed. If Gachi was there, Tana would offer her a pointed comment about legs and the variety of places to keep a knife on one’s person. At which point, the thief holstered her dagger and slunk out of the alley. From an outsiders perspective, Tana slid like liquid shadow across the docks, barely appearing in the outmost fringe of light before reappearing behind a stack of crates that blocked her from the smugglers’ view. Tana was good but she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could take on a crew of armed smugglers by herself. Best leave that to the collected rabble. Whether or not Gachi was with her or decided to follow, Tana drew and clamped the hilt of a knife between her teeth and started forward. Tana dashed to the end of the dock and leaped forward. She caught herself on the side of the ship, clinging to the hull with her fingertips. Her soft leather boots made the faintest of thuds as she latched on. Moving quickly she swung her body twice, building momentum and flung herself upwards to the lip of a porthole. Her hands found a solid grip but she let herself dangle. Twenty feet to her right, a group of smugglers were unloading a big crate off the gang plank. A minute passed. None of them looked her way. Another swing and Tana was leaping sideways through the air to catch herself on the next porthole. Her fingers scrambled, caught, then her whole body slammed against the side of the ship. Her feel scrambled for purchase before she planted herself, hanging onto the lip with her right hand, feet pressed into a groove. With her good hand, she took the knife from her mouth, waited until the sound of dropped crates would mask her actions, and stabbed it deep into the wood as high as she could reach. A sharp breath and she moved. Her hands boosted her upwards while her foot rose to plant itself on the ledge. From there it was a simple kick up to grab the knife and one more leap to grab the deck of the ship under the railing. The deck had enough activity that just strolling on would be a bad idea. However, the light was low- most lanterns doused or dimmed- and the commotion was enough to keep the attention focused away from the edges. Tana slithered over the railing and dropped to the deck. There was a cannon immediately to her right. She drew a new knife and began sawing at the ropes that kept it from hurling back at the crew after firing. A shot could still get off, but woe be to any poor soul who fired it. She was at her fifth cannon when the Red Venom exploded. The ship sprang to life. Smugglers swarmed like ants across the deck and down on the docks. A second crack echoed in the night, though Tana couldn’t see where from. Weapons were drawn and somewhere someone was shouting orders. Tana gritted her teeth and slashed through the rope. Subtlety had been kicked out the window. She lept to the next cannon and into the light of a newly illuminated lantern. A pair of smugglers turned in surprise. She gave them her sweetest fanged smile. “Evenin’ boys,” she purred, “Would you kindly make my job easier and kill yourselves?” One of the smugglers shouted in alarm. Tana slashed his throat then whirled and buried the blade in the other’s eye. As the two bodies slumped to the floor, Tana pushed back her hood and surveyed the pandemonium. A cold, cruel smile replaced her old one and stretched wide across her face as she looked at the blood dripping off the tip of her knife. “Fuck me,” she said, “but this is going to be fun.”
  14. Oh, last thing, sorry it’s taking me a while. @TheEyeOfNight Do you want want one more round for people to regroup or am I good to start Tana’s attack?
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