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dvsn

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dvsn last won the day on February 8 2018

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About dvsn

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    —infinity

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    Below the earth (all my friends are dead).

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  1. The Breaker Season III should be released September 2019

    *White girl scream!*

  2. Unexpected circumstances means I'll be limiting my activity here. Sorry for those that this inconveniences. 

  3. o didn't expect what followed but then again he didn't exactly engage Aegis with a conclusion in mind. It was unusual behavior to say the least. The man's response was composed and empathetic, which left the tipsy predator alone on the dance floor of mediocrity. It had all been downhill since then. Figured. Rather than pressing the issue he let the others dialogue drown out the intimidating disposition he'd manufactured in the blink of an eye and before any of them knew it he was...gone. Well not entirely. Only someone entirely focused on him throughout the conversation would have noticed him flicker out of existence, disappearing from the room they stood in and appearing outside of the rickety establishment in a mysterious transparent blur. Where he'd been standing was a note he had written before he'd arrived, one that ensured he would join their ranks on his own accord, detailing confidential information to Eiji regarding a few things within the surrounding lands and beyond. Some fresh air...yeah that's what he needed. The calm breeze of the town dissolved the sweat dripping from his forehead, and the flask in his left hand shook for a moment to check his reserves. There were other matters to attend to and he was already low on booze. It was going to be a long week. One step and then another and the unorthodox giant seemed to blend in with the crowd as if a pedestrian like any other. Just like that, he was gone. Show me what you've got old man...
  4. he Solomonic Dynasty specialized in loquacious, garrulous conversation. Trivial. Their words hung in the air, lethargic as was the humidity of the sky island situated within a fortress of cotton candy clouds in a world of its own. It wasn't hyperbole when the villagers remarked to Almoravid as an empire hovering by the blessings of the greater spirits. The citizens lived joyously unrestrained as pedestrians beneath the ruling clans, and for decades they came to know nothing but peace. This came at the expense of the false idolatry exposed by those who wished better for their people, removing the clutches of the defunct Zenata. On the eve of another glorious day a young man was reminded of their tyrannical oppression in the words of the elders who spoke of rising tariffs and the escalation of security. The secrecy of their trades and imports with the wilds of the surrounding continents was especially troublesome for the economy of Xhaosi. When the meeting was adjourned the twenty-four councilors rose from their polished seats of gold and iridescent cloth cushioned seats and exited in conversation, debating fiercely the future of the country and their people. Zetta however remained seated, his smooth, black face buried into his right hand, enclosed between his elongated fingers. “Does something trouble you?” a voice spoke from beyond, shaking the golden walls of the elaborate skyscraper. “...” “A king should never be seen demoralized.” Modjadji, The Queen of Storms, was ever empathetic as a Greater Spirit personally contracted to Zetta. Unlike the rest, her true power had always appeared to be in her words and not what she was foretold to be capable of. Slowly his face rose from his hand, looking to the rows of thrones descending one after another to the bottom of the room where they spread and made way for the silk white carpet that led to the hallway and the rest of the building. It was this very place that he once revered the very people who led them to damnation. Would he do the same? The burden was far too great to bear alone. “Summon Iblis...no, summon all of my family. Bring them to my abode and ensure that food is prepared.” “You're usually distant from your family...what are you up to young king?” Zetta's voice was young but decisive, backed by power and conviction he spoke without hesitation. When he rose from his throne enamored by wisps of divinity his thin cheek bones rose in ambivalence. The immutable was upon him. Any chance to ameliorate and change the circumstances that had forced them into isolation after their exile from Rosinder would be fleeting: and looking to the mistakes made by Sicamedes, he refused to allow history to repeat itself. “You think I wouldn't notice? The Tree of Sheba is blooming. You and I are closer than you think.” “...Zetta.” “We're one step closer to opening the Doors of Guf. We will succeed where others have failed. Will you stop me?” The influence he had become familiar with dissipated, though he knew she was everywhere within the kingdom always. His smile turned wicked. Everything he'd done with meticulous detail was all to bring him to this point. He had zero need for the approval of the elders. His right hand lifted itself from the throne behind him and combed through his smooth white hair, relaxing his scalp under the stress of his future ordeals. His left hand snapped back and tossed his black cape into the air behind him just as he began his descent down the staircase littered with rows of thrones, his sable dress shoes lacquered and glimmering beneath the dozen glass chandeliers above. It was time.
  5. You must attractive a lot of hot baddies. Where are they?
  6. I agree. You haven’t really elaborated much as far as the intricacies, precepts, or techniques of the style so of course I wouldn’t have my character recklessly teaching it without proper OOC understanding. I actually have to focus on Shokan and Tiandi Wushu now though so unfortunately I’ll have to withdraw my interest. I do look forward to seeing what the dojo accomplishes.
  7. he Pale Admonisher observed the festival and the weather with complete alertness. Any transgression on the watch of the restless swordsman could only be reconciled one way. It was not servitude, but loyalty. Understanding. The length of his broadsword glinted with the ominous aura of incandescent blood, a murky scarlet that simmered the fringes of its edge. It burnt the air like a hot iron, but upon his back it didn't seem so ludicrous. Some would figure it hyperbole, but his facade was that of a starving wolf , abstemious and apathetic— both of which betrayed the true nuances of his character. Evaristus was truly a man of empathy and frequently trended towards the morality of what many would find admirable: but there was a line to be drawn. Just as before he had died, there were times of irrational hate. Moments where balance was abandoned and murderous rage possessed him. At some point he diverged from the morality that acted as a seal upon his power, he had found that by appeasing his inner psychosis, he could achieve a new form of power at the cost of his sanity. Was it worth it? His eyes said no, but the pride of his walk and his stature said otherwise. There were a few variables of note worth keeping a record of as formalities took place. The first that he noticed was the presence of more than a few people incredibly familiar to him. Since the designation of his contract he had steered clear of any public locations and had only reported directly to The Empror himself. As an enigma shrouded in more mystery than the shinobi of surrounding lands, very few knew of his life and that of his apprentice. This was the first time they were seen publicly, so it was no surprise that he wasn't aware of the others who existed within the hiearchy and among their ranks. Celine, an acquaintance of his lost beloved. They were once both Soulseeker's while he one of the coveted throne numbering less than a handful, Celine was remarkably formidable and possessed her own array of specialized abilities that allowed her to be equally recognized. “So it's you...” he muttered, but realized that there was a place and a time. There was much he wanted to discuss, but this wasn't the place. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before the surprise of the moment passed. Jackson approached immediately thereafter, reporting on the security of the festival. “Excellent. Get yourself a drink, you look tired kid,” Evaristus smiled softly, though it looked wicked in the moment. “Grab me one too. You know what I like.” Watching the interaction between The Emperor and The Empresss wasn't so strange when he considered his last interaction with them before he died. He did so in silence however, seeming to also ignore Ozu's predatory reaction to his presence. The truth is that the amalgamation of variables that was experience among other things made it impossible for an immature youngster to understand his perspective, especially at a glance. Evaristus had zero intention of appealing to him either. Instead his focus was solely on entering the city and the security of those charged in due. Unfolding his thick arms crossed over his chest like bags of muscle his cloak fell over his sharp shoulders and elongated quadriceps covering the entirety of his body aside from his luminous broadsword. Moving with such silence that one would argue he wasn't even there, the sun subverted his nature into that of the night and loomed in the shadows, preparing for anything worthy of grabbing his attention. To the eye Evaristus stood as still as a statue were one to search for him, and most would think he lifeless as none could feel his aura or soul. The truth was far more elaborate, an impregnable forest of intricacies that was his hyperawareness and advanced sensory perceptions. While Evaristus appeared to be standing still in one particular place, the truth was that he had scattered the little ether/lifeforce that comprised his soul through into the world into various locations, allowing them to take intangible forms of spiritual projection faint enough to pass over as residual ether in the wind but puissant enough to relay multiple forms of spatial feedback back to Evaristus himself. This was a powerful utility of power learned in his time away from Valucre, one that while limited, was effective in providing security. While there was no way to hear words, and many shapes were unclear in the world of blinding white and convoluted spiritual auras, he could detect threats by erratic movements and the fluctuations of their aura. On arrival Evaristus instantly recognized that someone familiar (Halvar) was fighting someone unfamiliar and strange. It seemed like an isolated incident but one worth monitoring, which was something no doubt Jackson would have already noticed. So he remained still in the night as the other strange oddities of the festival unraveled and he kept eclectic eyes of spirit throughout the port. @Aleksei @Twitterpated @Etched in Stone @Chappu @Dreamer @danzilla3 @ShogiJesus
  8. Just finished moving into my new place. Thanks for your patience! Will be doing posts for everything I'm in between tomorrow and Monday, but then I have to start a new job! So my posts from there will occur every day or so. 

  9. Just finished my move! As of now it'll be @Daeje (account unknown as of now). @Twitterpated And @Thot. For the first thread atleast. I'll be adding one member at a time each thread moving forward so that anyone else who wants in can get in. Just don't want to overwhelm the first thread narratively with too much going on. I'll be divulging more details and getting an introduction thread up tomorrow.
  10. I think the latter rather than the former, but either one would actually end up working. Playing with the mental aspects of things would be pretty great too for some of the twists and turns in the story. I definitely recommend making an entirely new character for this affair although that isn't required.
  11. o-chan was a closed book to those who tried to read him. While his fierce appearance and unnatural aura often intimidated others, his carefree demeanor contradicted the notion that he was a threat at all. Lurching over his right arm exposed with enigmatic tribal tattoos reached to his back and from one of his many inventories did he reveal a leather flask that he brought to his lips as Eiji was speaking. Ambling forward thereafter, he took in the dilapidated meeting grounds for a moment before taking a crouch in the corner where he awaited the arrival of the others. He wasn't one to actually make an appearance to such events, though with the other business he had within the city, everything seemed to align in convenience for him. First was Aegis. A Ronin is not sought after for even demeaning mockery So why does this Shokan have such an interest in one. So immediately choked on his sake, spitting some of it up on the chipped wood beside him. Who was this man? While his eyes never opened, his observational abilities focused themselves intently on the ronin that entered behind him, analyzing him inquisitively. Were his blade of the sharpness that his tongue were then he was sure that he would prove a useful resource whether as a member of Shokan or one of his many network of allies he had fostered over the years as a rogue. However, more often than not such wasn't the case. Arrogance is what led to the destruction of Tiandi Wushu. It's what also led to the corruption of The Tianlong Gate. How the world had a habit of reminding him of history could be seen as an irritance but So was thankful. It reminded him to never be too comfortable with his own power. Lifting the charcoal bangle along his right hand to wipe the traces of alcohol away he chuckled lightly for a moment before continuing to drink, just as another entered. Shi he called himself, he seemed calculating and unremarkable at a glance but something told So that there was more to him than his appearance dared reveal. Time would tell as strangers became allies, but So was not one to overlook any minute detail. In-fact, as each of them entered, he was creating mental dossiers of his first impressions to them all, and what they may be capable of. Then there was the last to join the party, S—...what was her name again? He had no idea. For now she was the cute, late chick. While he inspected her the same way as he would the others, the parameters were albeit...different. “...her bust size leaves much to be desired...” he muttered aloud, placing his flask back to his lips. Unfortunately there was no sake left in it, but that was probably for the best. “Thank you all for coming. I'll try to keep this brief, and concise,” Eiji started, and immediately grabbed his attention, although his head didn't cant towards Eiji as such, rather instead he shook his flash and groaned in disappointment that he had drank the last of his stash for the day and it had only just begun. “I have been given authority by the Emperor to create a clan. You are all here because you are the best in your fields. My clan cares little for social status, or anything of the sort. Ability is most important. No matter what your past, if you are willing to serve, you are welcome in Clan Shokan.” Interesting. Something about this felt awfully familiar, and that alone made So smile genuinely. It had been a long time since he had swore allegiance to a cause or clan, and there was great reason why. The ashes of Tiandi Wushu were somewhat related to the subject, but the truth went deeper into a time where The Kitakokou practically ruled Izral and the sting of betrayal had cost him one of his many lives. Eiji's words felt genuine though. Could the Emperor be trusted? The answer was likely no, but he felt that Eiji had only requested them out of necessity...so it left So with a few moments of deliberation before Aegis once again stole the spotlight. And when he did, So was quick to intervene. “Are you some fool or do you just enjoy hearing yourself speak with unearned arrogance?” So began, his bare feet already discarded of his geta using the leverage of the worn wood to stand to his feet. The giant of a man shook himself of his drinking stupor to address what he figured was the elephant in the room. “Your reputation is the reason you were chosen to be here. If you're going to decline the invitation, atleast give a reason that makes a lick of sense. You don't think the rest of us have our own demons chasing us from other continents? Don't make me laugh old man...” His ferocious snarl that followed was one of a beast ready to strike. The tension in the room was palpable from everywhere around and between the ten or so feet that separated the two. “If you're going to walk and talk with that prideful scorn of yours you'd better be ready to prove you deserve that right.” So's disposition was amplified by the potency of the sake he had consumed, but nothing he said wasn't what he or others had probably been thinking, atleast from his jaded perspective anyways. What would his, or the reactions of the others present be? Would Shokan become a clan mentioned through history as one of legend, or a haphazard event where blood would be spilled?
  12. The eldritch knowledge of The Blood God Sauriel extends beyond just swordsmanship, while Gabriel himself is most acquainted with swordsmanship, there are other forlorn paths that can be exploited by a character giving themselves to the precepts of The Blood God. I led with swordsmanship in my post initially but it's open to any and all types of characters so long as there's room left open for development.
  13. “I still remember the prophecy of thine people foretold by the soothsayer lost among the unwitting arrogance of our strength of humanity. The archaic imprecation of witchcraft and evil had spellbound us all. Were we not oft to condemn the unknown I'm sure our blood would not be cursed by the sword of the night. With faces clear and pale as the moon they flooded our lands with death and forced us to accede to a curse beyond generations. Even as I write this with great vehemence I am forced to undergo timeless torture without the honor to perish, but what more do we deserve to have lived in such hubris without recognizing the veritable truth? We are nothing to the Blood God, and worse yet, his left hand: The Blood Sword.” The Blood Sword— Gabriel Cantor. Greetings and welcome to my interest check! As I've been pulled back into the fold of Valucre, I was given the idea by @King to begin a new saga involving one of my favorite characters from Genesaris, Gabriel Cantor. He has quite a bit of history in Genesaris and throughout, but most of that is the distant past as Gabriel has been particularly "quiet". The reasoning? No one's sure, but between us here in the OOC, the truth is he's been gathering swordsmen from across the lands willing to serve Rafael/Sauriel to achieve an eldritch knowledge to which the strongest swordsmanship can be found. I already have the general idea of the saga and how things will unfold, I only need active participants and those willing to develop their characters to new heights! All are welcome. Be prepared for PG13 - R rated writing (though tastefully) as the story calls for it. Due to my experience with RP, I only actually need three people at the moment. If things go according to plan and the story stays on the rails, I'll continue to recruit and renovate the concept and story overtime. If anyone has any questions, this is certainly the time and place!
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