Jump to content

Wade

Members
  • Content Count

    335
  • Joined

  • Last visited

About Wade

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Spicy Boi
  • Location
    Spiceland
  • Occupation
    Student

Recent Profile Visitors

4,179 profile views
  1. Wade

    Swornbreaker

    iii. Though Crowley likes to pretend he’s all teeth, he has always been too sentimental for his own good. I suppose it would be a kindness then, to tell this part of the story for him. The end begins at night. It is ordinary, as nights go. Cold and meaningless, sullen in the autumn wind; dulled by grey clouds, kept alive by the heat glow of street lamps. Most of Andelusia sleeps. It is unaware of Damien’s festivities. Though tomorrow is his birthday, he has seen fit to start celebrating a little early- but really, when has the Tyrant King ever needed an excuse to celebrate? In a way, that also makes this party relatively ordinary; with lords and ladies, generals and advisors, all of them basking in their ruler’s habitual debaucheries. There’s even a priest or two, just to keep things interesting, among the creeping notion that there might be conspirators lurking about. Speaking of conspirators: here are four who will matter a great deal. They make their way towards the royal castle. Each of them is a wondrous sight. Towering in gleaming sets of plate, they appear unstoppable in their strides. They make the guards ahead fidget, whisper, stand up a little straighter. It is the proper reaction, after all, when faced with a group of gods. This is not hyperbole, by the way; I defy you to think of the Oathsworn as anything else. As anything but the beings who stand uncontested, who can shake mountains and quell storms, who command the people’s fear and adoration, and who’ve ultimately shaped the fate of this kingdom in abhorrent conquest. You might argue part of this by saying Damien played a role in the latter. And you would be right to an extent. He is an instigator. But - this is important - his hands had nothing to do with it. His are not the one who’ve fought themselves endlessly bloody for his small, ill-minded dream. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a charlatan and a fool, and if they so much as mention his pathetic Black Knights- ... Forgive me. I've forgotten myself. We were talking about splendour, correct? Right, yes, well, there is little splendour in what these four have come to do. Regicide is messy business, you see? And it is always unpredictable. Still, the time for caution is over. It needs to be done. The kindest of the Oathsworn knows this as she steps forward when the first of the guards stop them. He looks her over carefully, as if considering his options. Before he can put any of them to the test, she places a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. “Go home,” she says softly. “Take the night off.” Her hand squeezes. The pressure is gentle, like a caress- and yet it is as inexorable as the ocean itself. She watches as the guard begins to understand; understand how easy it would be for her to crush him, until his bones turn to powder and his muscles into fraying paste. The three armoured figures at her back step forward, and he goes a shade whiter than he already has. “Understood, Lady Corrin.” It’s a miracle he doesn’t stutter. The other guards merely stare in silence as he lets the knights pass. Once they’re about a minute into the castle, a conversational voice peaks out. “That was awfully nice of you.” Corrin glances to the side. “You disagree?” Her eyes have trouble focusing on him. Even under ambient lighting, Crowley is hardly more than a silhouette. “On the contrary,” he says breezily. “In fact, I think anyone working tonight deserves a paid vacation.” Another voice joins in. It’s coarse, like gravel. “I didn’t realize you'd be in such a plucky mood.” “Ah but see, I’m not in a plucky mood,” Crowley corrects. He wags a finger at Noriok’s hidden scowl. “Just terrified, is all. There’s a world of difference.” Eventually, the four find their way to the edge of the throne room. Another set of guards stand sentinel. These ones are clad in black and don’t buckle at first sight. Beyond them sounds of the party carry over, wafting on a still breeze. It is the comfort of many people laughing all at once that sinks deep into Crowley. Maybe, he hopes, they won’t see him as any more of a monster after this. Maybe they’ll rejoice rather than scream, and isn’t that the point in the end? “Halt.” They halt, of all things, before the Black Knights. This time it’s Crowley’s turn to step forward. His every movement seems to drink in the light. The Captain doesn’t bow. “Sir Crowley. We weren’t expecting you.” It is a polite way of saying you’re not supposed to be here. “In full plate, no less. Is everything alright?” There’s a guarded edge to that last question, so faint you couldn’t call it a hint. “Yeah,” Crowley replies, shifting. “Everything’s just dandy. We’ve actually got some business with Damien, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside.” His answer doesn’t sway the Black Knights. Instead, they stand a little straighter. Two of them have the audacity to rest their hands on the pommel of their swords. A silence passes over the hall. Perhaps Corrin should’ve handled this one too, he thinks. “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate,” the Captain says carefully, very carefully. He knows Crowley and the King haven't been on the best of terms lately. Crowley tsks. “How about we skip all that and you just let us in?" he tries. "Go for a bathroom break while you're at it. Anyone asks, tell 'em the good man Walt gave you permission.” “I can’t do that, sir.” “Yes, you can. And I strongly suggest you do.” “I understand but-“ “Listen, you little shitweasel,” Crowley hisses. “Take the hint-“ Thel, quiet Thel, suddenly lunges forward. No one expect this. He’s so unassuming; so easy to miss, even as a hulking mass of metal. With an impossible grace, he summons Himei and slices the guards open in a single, fluid whirlwind. The Oathblade blurs, vibrates, as it tears their armour apart. Of course, none of this makes a sound. Himei swallows it all with an appetite. The Black Knights collapse. None of them twitch so much as a finger. Blood begins to soak into the stone floor, and Thel adds to it by flicking his Blade clean. “They weren’t going to move,” Noriok says for the mute. Thel nods, as he usually does. He steps over one of the freshly-made corpses, then pauses to look at Crowley expectantly. “I guess,” Crowley sighs. “There’s no turning back now.” His lips flatten into a thin line as he considers the first victims of the night. It’s a brief, fleeting moment that disappears with an adjustment of his shoulders and a skyward tilt of his chin, then a final breathe in, breathe out moment that doesn't quite relax him. This is it, he says to himself. This is it, he says to himself again. And finally, when he says it to himself so many times that the weight of the statement begins to sink in- This is it. He pushes the door open and steps into the throne room.
  2. Technically speaking, each Oathblade is roughly of equal strength. Length of acquisition threads shouldn't, in my opinion, determine their strength. That said, these things come in very limited supply. I might be hesitant to just hand them out like candy to whoever's first in line (gotta consider the possibility of surplus demand). If you want an Oathblade, I expect you to put in a decent amount of work for it; and then after that, the love and attention it deserves. I don't want to see my babies turn into trivial little toys, especially since they're decently relevant to my character and his personal plot reeeeeeee. It's possible Ataraxy and I will entertain a discussion of sorts before deciding whether someone gets one or not. It's still a little early to decide, so we'll see how things go first. Anyway, potential stick up my ass aside, I'm glad to see some of you are already interested in them! I look forward to what you guys do with 'em <2
  3. And here I thought Ursa Madeum was more of a medieval setting
  4. Wade

    Let's Make A Deal [Stormlands]

    “Two.” The mystery woman revealed herself instantly. A good thing, too. Echo wasn’t looking forward to what happened at ten. Still sitting in her chair, gun casually pointed forward, she watched the woman step out from behind the counter. She was wet to the bone, shivering and clearly distraught, and looked like she was probably having the worst day of her life. Welcome to the club. The woman raised her hands in surrender, keeping her posture meek. Echo’s finger didn’t stray an inch from the trigger. “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “Please, please don’t hurt me! I can explain, please, I- just don’t tell them I’m here, please.” Her eyes suddenly flitted upwards, towards the ceiling. Beyond the ceiling. Echo understood immediately but didn’t say anything. From the corner of her eye, she saw Klavier glance at the tarp. He must’ve come to same conclusion as her, and figured their guest had entered through the hole in the roof. Likely while they were all gathered in the cargo bay, squaring off against the pirates. She couldn’t imagine anyone sneaking in through the ramp in the middle of their fight with the golems. “Attention crew,” Echo drawled, holding down the comms button. She didn’t even bother with this is your captain speaking, since she was the only woman working on the Casimir. “If someone could run over to the brig and grab me a pair of handcuffs, that would be splendid. Try to hurry. The fate of your job depends on it.” Beep. Echo looked at the woman now. “Start talking.” She readjusted the grip on her pistol. “Skim the bullshit, if you can. I’m in a bad mood.” For emphasis, a tilt of her head prompted Klavier step forward. Just in case something crazy - and yes, she had no reason to expect anything but crazy after everything that happened - decided to stick its dick in her business. It was fucked enough already.
  5. Wade

    Oathblades

    BRIEF The Oathblades are legendary weapons capable of granting their wielders immense power. They were used by the Oathsworn, an order of ten elite knights founded in Ursa Madeum, who first served under Queen Analea Decamron, and then King Damien Gillick. HISTORY Not much is known about the Oathblades, though it is speculated were forged in Ursa Madeum long ago. Official recording of their usage began in 587 WTA. During her reign, Queen Analea sought to harness their power with the intention of granting each Oathblade to a respective knight of her choosing. Initial attempts at doing this failed, as none of the Blades responded to the candidates she selected. As a result, speculations arised that not simply anyone could wield their powers. Several months’ worth of experimentation yielded minimal results. No one had successfully awakened the Oathblades or come close to discovering a way to do so. It was only during a trial by combat, in which the islands’ finest warriors were invited to prove their worth, where the bonding of an Oathblade was witnessed for the very first time. Walter Crowley, a gladiator at the time, managed to retrieve the Oathblade Orenmir from his opponent in a duel. Upon making contact with the Blade, it began to manipulate the shadows around him, all of which seemed to respond to his own will as well. He was immediately taken to Queen Analea’s castle for further study, and was held there for several days. Eventually, Analea herself offered him a position among her ranks. Reluctantly, Crowley accepted her proposal, and was named the First upon his knighting. Tasked with finding other candidates for the nine remaining Oathblades, he set off on a journey across all of Ursa Madeum. This mission would take him a little over a year to complete, before the Oathsworn were founded with him as their de facto leader in 588 WTA. For the next three years, they guarded the queendom from any and all threats, gaining the favour of the nation as its sacred protectors. Everything changed, however, when Damien Gillick ascended to power; bound by their oaths to the throne, they were sworn to follow his rule. The Tyrant King thus saw fit to abuse their power for his own personal gain, and the Oathsworn’s standing quickly devolved into that of his private grim reapers. Walter Crowley became infamously known as the Devil when he led the genocide against the kingdom’s outlier races, and his reputation as one of the most feared men in the nation was second only to the Tyrant King’s. In 594 WTA, after months of conspiring, Crowley attempted to assassinate the Tyrant King with the help of three other Oathsworn. Together, they raided the throne room on the eve of the King’s birthday. Where Damien should have been sitting, however, there stood only an empty throne. It was then revealed that one of his fellow conspirers had leaked their plans the night before, just as several Black Knights swarmed the room along with the six remaining Oathsworn. Crowley and his allies were given the opportunity to surrender, followed by a promise that their lives would be spared if they agreed. In exchange, they would have to relinquish ownership of their Oathblades and carry out a prison sentence for the rest of their lives. Their refusal culminated in the fracturing of the Oathsworn, a destructive battle that would come to be known as the Break. None of the order’s members survived except for Crowley, who fled the scene and went into hiding. King Damien ordered for newly-dubbed Swornbreaker to be captured and brought to justice, but his forces never found him in time before the Taen Empire invaded. Presently, the status of the Oathblades is is unclear, as many of them were lost in the aftermath of the Break. CHARACTERISTICS No two Oathblades are the same, but each one they grants their wielder enhanced physical capabilities. This includes a significant boost in speed, strength, endurance, and in some cases, dexterity. They are all host to a single powerful spirit, infusing them with a unique set of elemental powers. In order to access these abilities, an individual needs to have bonded with the Blade in question. As of yet, there are no logical explanations on how this process works, but it is known that when someone relinquishes ownership of their Oathblade, they are unable to bond with it again. Once bonded, an Oathblade is summoned into existence by the intent of the bearer. This typically happens instantaneously, though it can take up to a few seconds depending on the individual's mental state. Should they let go of the Oathblade, it will disappear unless it is willed to stay. THE BLADES All ten Oathblades are listed as follows, with their current bondmates: Orenmir // Walter Crowley @Wade Sunscar // CLAIMED @Thotification Himei // CLAIMED @vielle Willbreaker // CLAIMED @KittyvonCupcake Stormreaver // CLAIMED @King Marrow // CLAIMED @Grubbistch Windsong // CLAIMED @Ataraxy Cometfall // CLAIMED @supernal Guzon Abettor Note: WIP
  6. Wade

    A Rough Start

    No more than a minute had gone by since they’d passed the gates, and Crowley already felt himself slipping. Every gardener tending to the castle’s decor, every attendant dutifully flitting about- even the guards were pretty. It didn’t seem possible. It was like the Hildebrand name naturally magnetized beauty. Crowley had already been aware that the family benefitted from a fortunate set of genes, but this, well… this was ridiculous. There was no way every mundane worker looked like they belonged in an art gallery purely by chance. There had to be something bigger at work here. Right? God save us all from the good-looking women. Just as Crowley started making googly eyes at a particular knight, a splash of colour flickered in his periphery. It was enough to get him to look away for a moment; and then, when he recognized the lady researcher herself, the moment solidified into one of permanence, characterized by a winning smile, before he noticed the bouquet of flowers she was extending towards him. Or so, he assumed those were flowers. “Greetings, Sir Crowley.” That was a little formal. He took the bouquet, reminding himself he wasn’t in Blackburn anymore. “For the peace and prosperity of all that is yours, sir. It’s-well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve last seen your face, out and about in the public eye.” Crowley’s tone was playful. “Keep calling me ‘sir’ and I might be gone a little longer next time.” It was also noticeably cutting, but he softened the blow with the classic chuckle and wave, the kind you always performed before saying, “Kidding, I’m kidding!” Crowley knew how to play that one off like no one else could. Something suddenly changed, then. It was in Aspen’s posture, the way her smile drifted from her lips. Crowley had the fleeting concern that she might’ve still taken offence. “We apologize that Lady Hildebrand is unable to appear before you today,” she said, putting him at ease, if only momentarily. “She-well, um...” Her words trailed off, marked by a shared glance with the young woman at her side. Crowley had been so focused on Aspen that he hadn’t really noticed her until now. He’d never seen her before, so she wasn’t familiar to him. And yet. What was it? There was something there. If staring hadn’t been considered rude, he would’ve taken another few seconds to keep looking. When his gaze flitted back to Aspen, he was left with only a rushed impression, firstly of faded black hair, followed by that of a vaguely sharp chin. Somewhat like his own, though slightly less chiselled, and he surprised himself when the thought provoked another quick peak. Aspen’s smokey voice snapped him back to attention. “Well,” she continued. “Let us come inside and away from the sun first, shall we?” Crowley forced himself to nod. “Right. That sounds like a good idea.” Aspen and the woman turned to move inside the manor, and he matched their pace along with Iyalon. He considered tapping the man on the shoulder, eager to whisper a few questions. Who was Aspen’s new friend? Was there something he hadn’t told him about Varda? Then he noticed Iyalon wasn’t looking at him at all. Instead, he looked worried. “Hey.” Crowley nudged him with his elbow. “You alright?”
  7. Wade

    What about movies?

    Nope, but I saw the one that came out in 2016. Pretty meh, so I’ll have to get around to watching the real deal this time around. Also since I’m here and we’re talking westerns, and I don’t have a lot of time to be on my phone, I’m simply gonna blurt out uuuuh...uh...Django Unchained. 8.5/10 And now it’s back to work for me
  8. Wade

    Hai, it's ya gurl, uh, Minnie

    Welcome to the spiciest playground for all your roleplay needs. We look forward to having you around (seriously though, join us in Ursa Madeum) ~ha ra cha cha cha responsibly~
  9. Wade

    [ASK] The Oatpeak Train Robbery

    “You know what’s the funny thing about being a bounty hunter?” Teddy asked. Tim tore his glance away from the pretty lady across the bar. “What?” “You’re fucking poor,” Teddy answered. He downed the rest of his beer in the process. “All. The. Time.” “What?” Tim scrunched his face. It wasn’t a good look for the unibrowed youth. “No way.” “Yes way.” Teddy slid the empty brown bottle across the counter, before the bartender nimbly plucked it out of sight. “How many baddies do you think I used to catch in a week?” “Uh, I dunno.” Tim kept frowning. He really had to stop doing that. “Five? Ten?” “Ten?” Underneath the brim of his cattleman hat, Teddy cocked an eyebrow. “What, do you think degenerates just grow on trees or something? The answer’s zero, Tim. Ze-ro.” “What about the bounty board?” Tim said. “There are plenty of names there. Lot’a cash floating around too.” “That’s how they get you.” Teddy practically spat the words. “It’s a scam. Makes you think you can get rich quick in an ocean of fish. Then you realize you live in a desert, but it’s too late because you’re already lost, starving, dying, holding your dick because it’s better than crying.” “But-“ “Trust me, lil’ buddy.” Teddy fished a few coins from his pocket and laid them on the bar. The pat on Tim’s back was firm but kind. “Stay at home. Work the farm. Don’t make your mom break down ‘cause you told her you’re leaving to go chase the Sundance Kid.” Tim’s frown, unfortunately, deepened. “Is that what happened to you?” “Yep.” The memory still haunted him. “But I’ve got a real job now, so that’s okay.” “Speaking of which…” Tim’s eyes magnetized back to the pretty lady. “Doesn’t your break end soon?” Teddy followed the young man’s gaze, then understood right away. “Yes, I suppose it does,” he said, smiling, not wasting any time getting up. “Good luck, bucko. Try smiling when you talk to her.” And with that, followed by a backhanded wave, deputy Teddy Leon made his way back out onto the streets of Oatpeak, just buzzed enough to enjoy the rest of his shift.
  10. Wade

    Books on the mind

    I think part of the charm about The Name of the Wind is in the way it goes beyond expectations. In summary format, the story doesn't sound all that special, but the way Rothfuss dishes it out is just pure nnnnggghh. The dialogue, the prose, the way every chapter comes together- there's a kind of music to the way he writes (and yes, music is supremely important here). It all plays out on a very personal level, since this is very much the protagonist's story and not just the book's story. Kvothe is something of a Mary Sue, but the way Rothfuss wrangles his character and makes him grow turns that into something very interesting rather than eye-roll material. Otherwise, I liked the rich worldbuilding, the mysticism, the intrigue, the humour, the drama; the effort at realism in a fantasy world, the empathy inherent in the author's style. I also found the framed narrative refreshing (UBER MINOR SPOILERS, AS IN SO UBER I'LL HIT YOU IF YOU GET MAD AT ME). You already know what's going to happen, but you gotta read to know how it happens. All in all, The Name of the Wind is easily one of my top 5 favourites. I honestly think it's tied for numero uno with Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings and James S.A. Corey's The Expanse. Finally, I just finished The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. 9.5/10 might finds its way into my top five once I finish the rest of the series. I'll briefly explain what I liked about it later, once I get around to a sort of semi-detailed masterpost concerning my favourites.
  11. Wade

    A Rough Start

    “So, you and Varda. Yay or nay?” In case the meaning wasn’t obvious for Iyalon, Crowley waggled his eyebrows. He didn’t really need an answer. It was more about being obnoxious than anything else. Getting under the Lord Protector’s skin had become something of a pastime over the course of their journey, partly as a means of payback, but mostly because that was just the kind of person he was: devious, silly, a little too crass for highborn snowflakes. Sometimes a little petty in spite of his knife-edged charm. Most people he’d ever spoken to were amazed when they met the man and not the legend; in terms of personality, Crowley wasn’t exactly what the leader of the Oathsworn was supposed to look like. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul,” he said. “Pinky promise. C’mon, put her up.” When the two finished locking fingers, Crowley turned his gaze back to the river. It flowed calmly at their side, clear in the afternoon light, downhill from the towering black fortress waiting for them dead ahead. Watching the monument draw closer, bit by stony bit, kind of made him feel like he was walking in a dream. An uncomfortable, stressful dream. The last time he’d visited a castle, it was to kill a king. The famous Break, and he the infamous Swornbreaker. It was the kind of reputation that made him wish he’d stayed at home, where no one knew who he was. Where he could live out a comfortable life with no one to judge him but his own shadow. He didn’t deserve that life, though. He’d come to terms with that now. It was as Iyalon had said, this was his chance to right his wrongs. Raking a hand through his hair, Crowley let out a sigh. A smidge of his anxiety went out with it. He ignored Iyalon’s glance and kept on walking, the soreness of his feet gradually occupying the space clearing in his head. By the time he actually began to enjoy the dull work of putting one foot in front of the other, it occurred to him that maybe he’d have to spend some time in court. Not because of the Hildebrands, per se. They wouldn’t throw any lawsuits at him. The rest of Andelusia, however, could want him to face justice. For what, well…between being a war criminal, a murderer, or even Ursa Madeum’s very own boogeyman - the list was long. Very long. It wouldn’t surprise him if he ended up in a dungeon by the end of all this. “Happy thoughts, Crowley. Happy thoughts.” “What?” “Nothing. Just having a midlife crisis, don’t mind me. Say, would you know if Aspen or Esme are still single by chance?” They spent the rest of the trek in relative silence after that. Probably for the best, since Iyalon looked like he’d had it up to here with him. Fortunately the tension didn’t last long, as the gates of Ravenel Manor were fast approaching. Crowley decided to hang back a few steps, scratching at the thin stubble of his ‘travel beard’. He’d let Iyalon do his thing while introductions were being passed around. I wonder if they still do absinthe. @vielle
  12. Wade

    Can't Afford a Therapist

    Summary: Iyalon Izora, Lord Protector of House Hildebrand, visits Blackburn to meet with Walter Crowley about the potential resurgence of the Oathsworn. Iyalon reveals House Hildebrand has come into possession of the Oathblade Himei, and convinces Crowley to come out of hiding and accompany him to Ravenel Manor. @vielle @Csl @Ataraxy
  13. Wade

    A daring train robbery [western]

    Ah what the hell. If brevity's on the table, I'm sure I can manage. Count me in. I'll send you a PM with details concerning my role.
  14. Wade

    A daring train robbery [western]

    Shit I might have to break out an alternate version of Teddy for this 👀 List me as a tentative while I contemplate whether I can handle a third thread or not.
  15. Wade

    Let's Make A Deal [OOC]

    @SweetCyanide skipped. @Song Sprite hasn’t been online in ten days, so I’m going to say @vielle you’re up next. Song, feel free to post whenever if you see this
×