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Samø last won the day on April 6 2019

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  1. A repository for all my fumblings! *Under indefinite construction Character profiles! Fracture: DESIGNATION: BANDIT Taen: Slake, the Aboleth Eater Danava Ursa Madeum: The Chimaera of Thrace Lore! Taen: Lizardfolk of Taen
  2. A palm wreathed in sealskin offered a her head roost as she stared at the unfurled map. Maps she understood. Better than anyone in the room, she told herself. How many forays into the expansive deep aboard The Widow had she undergone? Eyes on the horizon, spurred forwards on promises of relics and secrets based on nothing more than a drunken whisper at a tavern or a scrap of dirty fabric? She snorts her amusement at the recollection. Things seemed so much simpler then. Purer. But the days when her worries began and ended with how much rum was in the bottle at her hand and how much coin she had left were long, long gone. And now those blackening eyes stare at the myriad of faces before her. Dry faces, who know nothing of the tide. Shalana the first figure had called herself. An elf, a motley pedigree of dark and light. Yet she shone with a blinding radiance, enough to make Slake's eyes weep bitter tears of brine. She had said she was skilled with magic as well. The sepia stained memories of her words echo within her mind. The Widow hates magic. Slake should tell her that, but she doesn't. The next one calls himself Glee, but there's very little of that word in him. A captain of clouds, not the sea. Slake had already decided she was going to engage the man in a fist-fight whenever the opportunity presented itself. Her eldritch crew, ever familiar with their Captain's competitive... notions, had already begun placing bets - swapping pouches of gold between clawed and tentacled hands as bets. Some sort of demon man- All it takes is a blink. The room was flesh. Pulsating, beating flesh. Veined walls and throbbing floors. Leaking viscous essence from every horrific pore and orifice that lined every surface. And then she hears it, that resonant tremor. A beating drum of blood and meat. Nothing could mistake it for anything less than a heartbeat. Slake brought up the empty rum bottle she held in her hand, and stared at it. "Did you do this?" She asked the bottle. Then she looked at Whalefall. "Or is this you?" To everyone else in the room, it looked like Slake had taken to talking to her bottle and blade. Even her crew were staring at her with empty, confused expressions. Though they didn't notice the world around them changing to blood and bone. Of course they didn't. Wreckage and flotsam littered the room, replacing what had been furniture and vestiges of a place lived in. Bits of boats and ships swallowed. Skeletons. Even some kind of wooden puppet. "Ah," Slake laughed to herself. "I know this one," She turned to M'yr, who was talking about plans and possibilities, ignoring the bile and blood that pooled up to his knees. Seashell spurs fastened to oxidised steel heels chimed as Slake sauntered her way over to a mound of blubber. Which was in fact, a lampshade. She paused for a moment, as though weighing up the consequences of what would occur were she to- An armoured finger tilted the thing to its side and into a fall. It's smashing brought her back to a reality of brick and stone. Slake feigned indignation at the bemused stares her crew shot her. 'What?' Brought back to some semblance of sanity, Slake tip-toed her way back to the table and said nothing of what had occurred. Blackbush. Consort to Dredge. She had heard stories, of course. Parricide and genocide were two flavours of violence that Slake had never tasted. The Aboleth-Eater would keep an eye on that one, she decided. And then those eyes rested on Cammy. There was something to be said about curiosity and cats with her; yet the girl presented opportunity to show the world more of what the Acolytes were trying to do. To stop from happening. "Loud." Slake clapped her hands. "We're very much the definition of that word, poppet. Our little cabal of malcontents and rascals won't exactly blend in." Broad shoulders, plated with black steel, heaved themselves into a shrug. "Best we get in and get out loud and proud, before they know what's happening." Then, a grin. "Savvy?"
  3. I've only watched the original anime and 08th MS team, though I've heard good things about Thunderbolt and have been meaning to give that a watch. Got a MG RGM-79 Ver2.0 and MG MS-069F Zaku II Ver2.0 But they're not finished and I really should get around to building them.
  4. It really depends on what aspect of the lore you're working with. So let's say for example, I was in a roleplay based out of Lunaris in Taen - I'd like to see an article giving enough details about the locale, geography, demographics and history. Having that at my disposal would mean I'd be able to comfortably have my character interact with a location of such importance in the setting as Arcturion, especially if it's in regards to something major about the city, say a specific organisation that exists within the city, a person or a place. At the same time, you don't need to go into such extreme detail that I'd be able to know what, say, the kind of regional cuisine each street in Arcturion has. Because if you'd develop the setting and structure it to where every fine detail of the setting is mapped out and pre-defined, it would 'limit' the freedom someone might be able to write about it themselves. Having PCs flesh out your world by 'assuming' and fitting something small into the setting is a good, organic way to allow the setting to grow and adapt. Plus, if every little point of information was written down about a setting, down to the last extraneous detail, it'd be overwhelming to newer writers who want to jump in without having to read a mountain of text to get into the setting. But at the opposite end of the spectrum, leaving far too much of the lore up to interpretation can be intimidating to write within a setting. You don't know the finer points of how something important works and if you make an assumption that turns out to be wrong, you'll have egg on your face. Having a big, comprehensive archive of information about your world/setting/whatever isn't a bad thing, in fact I'd prefer to have more information than less 100% of the time. It's how easily that information can be digested is the biggest qualm I usually find with sites that just thrust several books worth of knowledge at you. And I think lore that limits the way in which you can approach your creative process isn't necessarily a bad thing. A setting that allows you enough freedom to inject your own ideas and inspiration into your writing is great! If you aren't going to follow the rules of the setting, then why even bother roleplaying there to begin with? It's how well you can create a world that allows people to come up with neat, unique ideas that work with the lore rather than against it that's the real key thing you have to work towards. So, if you want to have a big, expansive universe that you want people to roleplay in and still want it to be detailed, the best way I think it could be done is; 1. If you're going to write a lot of information about something, make sure the important stuff gets the most attention. Little details about how the world works is great, sure - but make sure that the pertinent information isn't lost among it. 2. Condense the information. Basically tl;dr it, a brief that people can read and know enough about the setting that they can comfortably roleplay within it without breaking any of the rules you've established with the setting.
  5. Samø

    Pets ?

    heres my dog heres my other dog heres my other dogs
  6. Thank you for all the likes!

    1. Samø


      yh'mi is lit fam how could i not!?

  7. Domesticity, rotten and broken as it was, did not suit a beast of her bearing. Blue eyes, stained with fractal marks of shifting black, flickered from scrap to scrap of papyrus laid across the deadwood surface of the table. Gauntlet-clad fists rested the bulk of their wearer against it's surface. Her armour was the stuff of nightmares, dredged from abyssal depths and chased in madness. She shifted her bulk slightly, and the screaming coins that capped her cloak of dried serpentine flesh chimed as they moved. That helmet that had become her signature lay atop the surface of the flotsam table and one could swear the calcified tendrils that curtained it's maw moved from time-to-time. Worst of all was the blade attached to her hip by a sheathe of sealskin. It sang. Hummed apocryphal melodies barely on the cusp of being heard, bore its tunes deep into the minds of those that heard and germinated dread within. To Slake, the song sounded sweet. Warped figured lurked in the shadows behind her. Mutated droogs who owed both their loyalty and transfiguration to her. They wore the faces of maritime horrors, of sharks, slugs and other lurkers. Limbs morphed into crustacean's claws and viscous tentacles lined with infundibulum suckers. Neither living nor dead, but on the cusp of both. Slake's crew bowed their head and listened to Whalefall sing. Dripping smiles cut their way into their thalassic faces as the sword sang them into a placid stupor. Then her gaze found its way to M'yr. Rested itself on that mask that had concealed his withered, drained features. Alabaster paint had rendered a myriad of coiling tentacles across its splintered surface. Slake's said nothing, but a faint click sounded from her throat. She drowned her introspection with a swill of rum, the contents of the stained glass gone as quickly as it had appeared in the tumbler. Another pouring from the featureless bottle saw that it was filled again. It dripped empty as the last of it's contents brimmed the cup. Snorting her disapproval, Slake bit back the desire to toss the thing at the head of one of the mercenaries. Anything to break the monotony of it all. But Slake was a consummate professional, at least when it came to her alcoholism. The time for brawls and fights would come later. Perhaps she'd bloody her knuckles with someone when they stepped foot on the Widow. The ship demanded as much; she was as thirsty as her owner, but her drink of choice was red, not black-strap. "Inspiring, poppet." Slake whispered to M'yr, ignoring the swelling pool of saltwater sprouting from the ground beneath their feet. Waking-dreams and madness would have to wait. "You even remembered to take off that piece of timber," And she gestured to the mask he had removed. She could have told them all about the Widow. About how they'll line the entrances of their quarters with salt and silver, barricade the doors each night before sleep. And never go after someone damned enough to walk the deck at night, lest they share their fate. Of course, that would probably diminish the number of volunteers immensely, so Slake bid herself quiet until they were on the ship, until the option of refusal was jumping into the sea.
  8. Samø

    General chat thread

    Depends on how you view the term planet, or what kind of literature you grew up consuming, I think. There's points to be made that using 'planet valucre' isn't evocative of Sci-fi because the setting is literally a planet, that's the correct use of the terminology. Sure people might get an idea of 'jumping from planet to planet on a starship' from it, but you wouldn't be wrong calling it that word. There's probably an argument to be made that you can have different planets, plains and realms in a fantasy setting too, so the word 'planet' shouldn't automatically conjour up notions of science-fiction. When I read the hobbit as a kid I thought that western continent the elves went to was a completely different world because of how Tolkien phrased it. tl;dr probably would make some people think sci-fi, but that doesn't mean it has to be because of that word
  9. Samø

    General chat thread

    me: alright, i'm gonna set some goals and get some serious writing done also me:
  10. thanks for the follow dork

  11. Samø


    slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 2m ago boyfriend just explained libraries to me. apparently they're like bars, except instead of rum you drink knowledge??? REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 1m ago read** not drink i mean lol REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 48s ago just found out fist-fights arent as acceptable in libraries as they are in bars. now banned from arcturons public libraries. thanks myr. REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE
  12. slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 2m ago boyfriend just explained libraries to me. apparently they're like bars, except instead of rum you drink knowledge??? REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 1m ago read** not drink i mean lol REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE slake likes boats @aboleth_eater • 48s ago just found out fist-fights arent as acceptable in libraries as they are in bars. now banned from arcturons public libraries. thanks myr. REPLY GRUMBLE LIKE SHARE slake will be happy to add 'breaking and entering' to the list of felonies she's committed in a place of learning!
  13. thanks for the follow nerd

  14. 'When asked: 'What is the school of change, of the essence that feeds and spreads?' Respond: Pyrmanteia.' 'When asked: 'What is the school of life? Of rebirth and resilience?' Respond: Draoidh Wyldlight.' 'When asked: 'What is the school of duality, of the flow and tide?' Respond: Hydrosophist.' 'When asked: 'What is the school of the mind, of control and will?' Respond: Psionkine.' 'When asked: 'What is the school of the alchemical, of metals and solvents?' Respond: Al-Kimiya.' 'When asked: 'What is the school of abomination, of corruption and death?' Respond: Nekromanteia.' 'When asked: 'What is that school which must never be sought out?' Respond: Daemonolagaerie.' - Liber Loci, Opening Epigraph. 'All I have ever wanted, was knowledge.' - Thelema Theodane, before taking the mantle of Danava. INDEX. I. Basic information II. Physical characteristics/Personality III. Powers/Weaknesses IV. Equipment/Effects V. Goals VI. Threads I. ♁ Name: Thelema Theodane Moniker/Title/Alias: Danava Age: Twenty-one Gender: Female Race: Half-Elf Birthplace: Fracture II. ☿ Height: 6'2", 187cm Weight: 130lbs, 58kg Physical Description: Countless days spent hidden away amidst dust tomes and venerable volumes has left her complexion ghostly and pale. Fae in constitution, even beyond what her Elven ancestry grants her; she could be likened to a sprite; elegant, yet frail. She seems to glide and dance rather than walk. Strands of luminous silver crown her head, woven locks of pale blonde that are kept at shoulder's length. Pointed ears break from the thalassic, shimmering waves of her hair. Austerity is the craft of her features, sharp and defined yet distant and cold. But her smile is warm, rare as it is. Two golden eyes, flecked with brown and possessing a corvine wit frame her face. Juvenile practising of astrapomancy have left her body covered with fractal, glowing webs of white veins. 'Gaian Academy: Field of Hydrosophism: Championship Portrait, Thelema Theodane, later disqualified for discovered attempted murder(s) of other contestants. Select words, embossed in brass beneath the portrait's frame have been rather vindictively scratched off. Personality: 'Curiosity has always been that girls best and worst trait.' - Her father, moments before being polymorphed into a cat. Knowledge. From a young age, Thelema has relentlessly and voraciously sought it out. Devouring a small-library's worth of literature and information in a matter of hours, the would-be Danava has always coveted to know the unknown. As a prodigy and a polymath, Thelema is as sharp as honed steel; a fact she is more than happy to bring up time and time again. Endless is her quest in finding the new and unknown, what bean as an innocent delve into the arcane quickly grew askew as her desire for more bloomed. To call her narcissistic would be a dramatic understatement. And, as noted by her teachers, Thelema possesses an anarchistic streak, as well as a general distaste for figures of authority. Pride will often find her in situations she would have best avoided; never a duel (magical or intellectual) has been refused by the would-be arch-mage. As of late, her sense has slowly been degrading, withering against the tides of her conquest for knowledge. Morality and sanctity hold no sway, should it bring her more wisdom. Yet embers of warmth still persist inside of her, however dulled they may be. III. Arcane: Pyrmanteia - Pyromancy, in more fundamental terms. To give crawling, burning life to the air before your fingertips. Casting out great plumes of fire as thought born Draconid. Of all schools of magic, this is perhaps the one most governed by the wielder's humours. Should rage overcome those using it, they will be lost and consumed by the very flames they seek to unleash upon their foes. Wyldlight - Bioarcana. The stuff of druids and witches. Control over the wilds and flesh itself. From sewing shut grievous wounds to controlling the wills of beasts. Capable of producing limited telepathy as well. Hydrosophist - Thalassic arcana. Dominion over water itself, manipulating its shape and substance with little more than an idle flick of the wrist. From swatting, giant tendrils of brine to casting freezing blasts of air. Psionkine - Dominion over the mind and all that it perceives. Most infamous of the abilities granted is that of scrying minds, of domination and control - to rip through the memories and thoughts of another and manipulate them to your will. Al-Kimiya - The alehcmical school. It teaches transmutation and transfer. With it, lead can become gold, steel to rust and so much more. M̡à҉́͝d̸̨̕͢n̛͠é̸̡͠ś̴̡̕s̸͡҉͏: Nekromanteia - Necromancy. Masquerading dead flesh as living. Forcing empty husks to bow and bend to your will. Thelema has mastered the art to where she can conjour a number of undead dregs. Never satisfied, she looks to be able to do so much more. Daemonolagaerie - Convening with the things that traipse beyond the skein of reality and call the infernal plains of the Spirit Realm their home is never wise. They always offer so much and demand so little in return. Thelema is still learning the pacts and rituals of the school, and is doing so at a terrifyingly rapid pace. Boons: Polymath - Thelema is learned in several academic schools of thought and application. From mathematics to astrology, her mind is flush with insight and knowledge about countless fields of study and science. Rarely, if ever, is this knowledge used for good. Philology - The primordial and ancient has always held a certain reverence with the girl. If there's some ancient runes carved into a antediluvian temple, chances are she'll know how to translate it. And use it. Banes: Physiology - Thelema is a slight thing, physically weak and without any martial combat training. As well as this, overuse of magic can cause intense physical strain upon her, to the point of being rendered unconscious or inflicting serious injury upon herself. Misc - Allergic to most kinds of canid. Oh, and she can't hold her liquor. IV. ? Equipment: Staff - Relatively unadorned, considering its wielder. Intricate runes that melt, shift and throb have been scrimshawed across its steel surface. Robes - A long, flowing series of robes that shroud the wearer's outline. Crafted from manticore hide and from its shoulders a long fur coat falls. VI. ? Goals: Learn everything. Literally. Achieve apotheosis and bind her soul to a phylactery, gaining immortality Master Necromancy Master Daemonolagaerie Find someone capable of teaching her Blood Magic V. FULMINATION. Threads: 'Empty, like your head!'
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