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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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    Below the earth (all my friends are dead).

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  1. 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. 

  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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?
  5. 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.
  6. “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!
  7. Probably Full Moon. Makes sense given the character I'm aiming for. Shouldn't hamper development, and should help others to grow in the process.
  8. I want to do this but not sure if I would have time. I guess I'll see what my schedule looks like moving forward. But consider me interested.
  9. ow many times would he die to be reborn again? How many would fall beneath his infernal blade? For how long would he wander the earth until he found the man who had robbed him of everything? When would he face his twin brother in their battle of destiny? Most importantly, when would he reunite with the woman who had given him a reason to live in a time that seemed long gone. However many times it took. Once before in another life did he wander the port with hair that was solar and a heart that was as sharp as his intricate swordsmanship, so to revisit the same lands once more paralyzed him with crippling deja vu. The tension was palpable, but the apathetic visage of the swordsman revealed not what his mind dared to wonder. In the mantel of his temporary living quarters he had placed the amulet of his beloved, not daring to take with him a charm that could become soaked in blood. Evaristus Sicamedes knew that the day would come. From the moment he was inducted into the ranks of the emperor's military parliament, he was sure that he would see use. However it wasn't him alone that was brought into the fold, but Jackson as well, who seemed reluctant, but willing to follow the grand master to the ends of the earth once more. Questioning his reasoning, Evaristus would only grin weakly. To gain information, and power, meant to convene in powerful allies that could give him the influence necessary to grow once more. It was the same in his past life living as a envoy of Kadia, and it was no different. In exchange for the knowledge of their taijutsu, their world, and of the surrounding lands and world beyond, he would act as a protectorate of the emperor and serve all of his desires. The ghost-haired swordsman was all too familiar with the sentiment. “Please allow me to stay close by your side during our tenure here...” Evaristus spoke just after the Emperor made his declaration. “The only sword I believe in is my own.” This wasn't an insult to his nation or those who served beneath him, but a testament to the emphasis of will that he placed within his newly found blade, the Einlanzer. A far different ancient weapon than most he had observed through both text and his time wandering the continents of Valucre, the veritable, puissant blade was monotonous where it rest along his back. The jade hilt itself seemed to beckon for those to grab the great sword if they dared, but the two who tried since his revival had met a death as swift as his own at the hands of Gabriel. Adjusting his ivory garments and crimson, cotton belt tied along his waist, the six foot seven sage knelt next to Ozu whom he had managed to get acquainted with along the way. He was young, and it was clear he wasn't used to being away from home— but his vitality and willingness to accept what was beyond him was indicative of his maturity far beyond his years. Adjusting the leather cords along his cobalt bracers, he awaited the word of the emperor and all others who would speak. @Twitterpated @Aleksei @Chappu @Dreamer @Etched in Stone
  10. awn. The enigmatic vagrant awoke that morning as they would have any other, and departed before any eyes could know where they had gone. The once mendacious maverick of mysterious origins seemed to command balance beneath his foot-long geta made to accommodate the giant's feet. It was impossible to tell how long had passed since he abandoned the precepts of the Baxian. Beneath thick aquamarine robes trimmed with rose gold the faceless man seemed to amble endlessly with no destination in sight, seen seldom along a pathway then not at all. As meticulous as the giant of a man was he made no attempts to hide his journey. Standing just shy of seven feet his presence was massive, but oft misunderstood: which was common of one with no home or no direction. Overtime however this changed. No one could say when or how, but the strongest warrior of Tiandi Wushu folklore, The Blind Salamander, appeared before Jigoku with a smile of calm. Hundreds walked every which way around the robed man who stood still, capturing the world and the city he was meant to enter. The sun shined resplendently, the insects buzzing, children playing loudly along the sides of the road and within, and as such tranquility seemed contagious. There was no heightened intensity of war or battle, and as such nothing for the sage to raise an incipient eyebrow to. His smile would remain when he began walking once more, weaving through the general populace with an occasional "pardon me" and "good day sir/ma'am" along the congested roads that would bring him to his destination. There were other far less tedious methods of arriving to the meeting place of his new allies, but So Chan as they called the bronze-skinned man of ivory hair was taught to never reveal his hand too early, even on a full draw. Besides, it wouldn't take long for him to arrive at the dilapidated tea house plotted on disgruntled land. When his glassed eyes opened they were desiccate, and scarred beyond remission: no pupils to view, merely mystical white that seemed to have collided within and been frozen by time itself. Stepping forward carefully on the uneven ground he stepped forward and the door to the tea house slid open slowly. "HmmHMMMM...no housekeeping? What lord would do this to his elite journeymen?!" So called out childishly, shaking his massive left hand in jest, while stepping forward and using his right to lower himself upon entering. As a man of considerable size he would have to watch himself. "I trust there's no booze or food here either?" So called out Eiji, not having given a formal greeting proper.
  11. The soul vitiated by doubt was against the reformed precepts of the swordsman. With the whole spiritual prowess Evaristus had accumulated there was still no feasible way to have felt or detected any presence within the forlorn place: the blinding light itself burned through anything that would seek truth within. So it was to his surprise that he found a familiar face when he made his way to the chapel within the city's center. Descending from the sky the regal knight adorned by effervescing radiance was enough to confirm what he already knew: he was descended of them, far beyond the reaches of Valucre's understanding. Gracing the world below Evaristus welcomed him with a friendly smile while gesturing to him with his left hand in a wave. His right seemed bandaged and hardly moved, dangling at his side lazily as the errant vagabond approached the knight. "I expected you to heed the warnings of the prophecy foretold by the meek and follow in the footsteps of order..." Evaristus began, his smile growing, "It seems you have chosen another path, but one that still leads you to the light...you and I always were different..." Evaristus and Judicael locked eyes, and while Judicael thought what he would as a celestial being, Evaristus could only reflect on the memories where both fought to protect the path they had chosen. Convictions and decisions made in a world with harsh dichotomy. "I know I am forbidden, but on this day I will pull the Einlanzer from the The Prometheus Circuit." Of the holy relics of Celestia derived from the forged hands of the celestials, the Einlanzer bore the most significance to a swordsman such as himself. They were each filled with insurmountable power beyond any being's conscious understanding, yet none of it mattered without the hands that would wield it. Who before had taken to wield one of the four weapons and for what purpose? Why were they even forged? Evaristus had no answers, even after reflecting on much the same throughout his own journey. "After I have completed my mission and been reborn, I will return to my world...I have finished business there." Evaristus finally stopped before the golden tablets segmented into one another, standing as twin gates to the citadel where his objective rest. "I suppose you plan to accompany me for a reason you cannot divulge? As usual?"
  12. Did I hear clan?!

    1. danzilla3
    2. dvsn

      dvsn

      Hit me up, I'm interested brother. 

  13. When Evaristus first embarked on his journey his ethos was not immutable. Even as a spectral of the afterlife did his dictum ever ring true. There is something to be said about a man who will obviate all but his sense of self to achieve that of which cannot be reached by ordinary means. The swordsman lived on in incipience, while dead, the Sicamedes School fostered an orphanage for which all children with nowhere to go would find themselves, training under the harsh regimen that made the legend himself. The white haired swordsman did the same humbly, albeit not in the world of the living. It was impossible to tell the passage of time, but Evaristus had reached ascendancy both mentally and spiritually in his time deceased. The change was palpable, even the aura about him. The sword soul was refractory to all which interacted with it, ever sharper, it was hard to uproot the supercilious seeds sown in his death— however it was that resolution and adaptability that brought him to the Garden of Ancients. With every step he took he could feel the presence of the Orokin in the very composition of the citadel. Eventually the staircase would end, and gone was the swordsman in the blink of an eye, becoming a scattered spiritual image that seemed to fade instantly, though not nearly as fast as his reappearance from one hovering mass of uneven rock to the next. As a virtuoso of the sword it came with mastery of a variety of other tertiary skill sets, and acceleration was one that had become his watch work since his untimely demise. Some had developed similar methods of movement, "The Spirit Step", "The Soul Leap", and while Evaristus didn't have a name for his own, mastery of movement/foot techniques were an intense focus of his training. Arriving before the empyrean gates the swordsman stared into the sun. Not the sun in the sky, but the sun that was the citadel itself. To most, the incandescent light was enough to scorch the astral retina and scatter the body into particles, but to Evaristus it was simply hot. Enraptured by the ethereal beauty of the ancients creation, the gates slowly dissolved into flecks of iridescent ether, granting Evaristus passage within. Without a second of delay he began his trek forward, stepping into the garden left by the ancestors of a forlorn civilization. Several dozen buildings, each one story, of relatively moderate size were scattered throughout the golden city. Everything shined resplendently, made of the finest aetherium, appearing to have never aged. Regardless of the name, there was no garden so to speak, merely abandoned architecture all surrounding a single larger, more grandiose building within the center. Above the citadel itself rest an orb of light, perhaps a protectorate of the abandoned world as Evaristus could feel the life within it. "A Sentient...but how?" Evaristus reflected deeply, never stopping a single second in his mechanical amble towards the center of the symmetrically constructed city. "At last you arrive, Child of Eos," a voice flowed through his spiritual particles. "Eos?" "I am Kagatsuchi...you have much to learn...you concern yourself with the trivial, but soon you will know better..." Evaristus stopped and looked up to the mystical orb hovering several dozen meters above. Having incisively inspected the world above there was no informational determinations he could make with his spiritual sensory perceptions as refined as they were, and it seemed that the sentient got the last word, as its presence seemed to dissolve. Calling back to the primal would provide him no answers. What did he mean by his words? Evaristus wanted to dwell on them, but he had heard many words spoken the same in what was often a mundane act to sway his course of fate. Many wanted to wield the power of Evaristus for themselves, or destroy Evaristus so that he didn't become the threat that would be their demise. Many were persuasively powerful, but none could chip away at his willpower, the very same strength that forced him to step ahead once more towards the golden gates of the royal tomb beyond. Within was the answer he had been searching for, one that an uncountable amount of people had died to attain. Snapping his sky eyes from the orb he prepared for the inevitable. The errant sword would prove himself worthy, or this was the end.
  14. The venerable swordsman marched slowly up lacquered golden stairs with impetus, his conditioned legs and trained feet guiding him up the narrow pathway. If the God's acceded to his desires he'd have removed the staircase entirely, yet the candid precepts of a certain swordsman now unknown to the world gave him little choice but to continue. Enduring the languid journey up the then nameless mountain, the once golden-haired savant took the time to reflect on his life up until that point, both in its purpose and its importance. There was a time where he was infallible, lauded by all those across the kingdom of Kadia and otherwise, gifted with blood far different than any other born within the country's borders. While his childhood was filled with torment and sufferance the will that it allowed him to develop was unlike anything most would ever come to see. While he appeased the nobles and acted on the necessary objectives needed to move the kingdom forward, the Soulseeker of Greater Authority lived outside of their understanding. None of them had come to know the struggle that this man would witness, and the one who was truly capable of understanding was yet to live. The morbid horror of death and decay clang to the swordsman across continents as he traveled, hidden beneath rugged clothing and hidden behind a mask of enigma for all who would meet the calm traveler. What however was the purpose? What did he seek to accomplish or gain? In the beginning his search for a worthy adversary was born of his own internal pacification. With a disposition lost to madness he walked with poise, read books in the free time where an opponent was not present, and seemed capable of rational, intelligent conversation among others. With decorum did the swordsman conduct himself to the highest of social standards— and it was only because he was trusted to do so that he was allowed to travel the world and bring forth the gospel of the God-King all the same. Yet this was no parable. If there were one, it would be that life is purposeless, situational, and impetuous— and that the sole purpose of living was the unhinged, often unpredictable future. One cinnamon straw sandle after another stepped along the glistening stairs, while his luxuriant hair danced in the zephyrs of the mountain slope. The higher he climbed, the harder it became to breathe, however, it also felt as if his soul was grappled and slowly being lifted from his body. The fortitude physically, mentally, and spiritually it would take to reach his destination would be unlike anything he had ever experienced. Everything during the moment of his first death, the tears, the blood, the agony, and all things that came after— it was all prepared to culminate. His heart accelerated beneath his white haori as he lost himself in the adrenaline-inspired haze of retribution. Assidious was the trek until, an unknown time later, he arrived. The sun seemed to sit somewhere just above the mountaintop, expelling such light that it was almost impossible to look directly at the mountain itself. Golden gates of jade encrusted scriptures connected to insurmountably tall walls of gold covered all in sight, breaking free just as one reached the top. Each wall seemed adorned by an archway, open, with luminous trees of every color in the rainbow lining across hundreds of segmented walls. At a glance the destination seemed like more of a dream than it did reality, but when he reached the top, the swordsman stopped and reached into his haori, retrieving a scraggly parchment weathered by the sands of time for which he had endured. Unfolding it slowly he looked to the words within. “The beginning and the end rests with Einlanzer...find Remmington, or your soul will never know sleep. Finish what you started Evaristus” Demanding as usual, but Evaristus smiled nonetheless. Waterfalls spilled from the glittering landscape ahead, and a growing sound of wind and natural forces lured Evaristus soul hither. Folding the parchment he continued forth to his destiny, determined to follow the instructions given to him. Would Remmington be there awaiting him? Would he even be able to return to a world where his soul was tied to an inextricable order? There were thousands of questions, most of which a mind like his knew the answer to. The only question important was... “Remmington..." he thought to himself silently. "I...I have weeped long enough. Soon my love...”
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