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TheWilySpookster

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About TheWilySpookster

  • Rank
    Liberator of Knowledge
  • Birthday December 29

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    thewilyspookster

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Mission Viejo, California
  • Interests
    Writing, Film, The Great Old Ones
  • Occupation
    Part-Time Deity

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  1. [Nymeria] About Damn Time (The Return of a King)

    Swell. The steady movement of waves. The expansion of the respirator's sacs. The up-welling of painful emotions. Pride. Shame. Despair. A stone-faced demeanor betrayed no such swelling of these feelings in Shcxay's chest as his uncle's loathsome pity washed over him. At that moment the Grand Inquisitor, who from such abyssal lows rose to such an improbable height, did not feel hate for his uncle, his king, his highness. After all, for a decade Shcxay had experienced such treatment from his fellow Nymerians. He had endured such a terrible fate, had he not? Who was he to force himself to suffer? He musn't work, he must rest. Such ambition was not healthy for one with his condition. Stress, exertion, effort, it would all lead him to an early grave. It was comments such as these that proved to be his greatest motivation. Morbid imagery, talks of shortened lifespans and a place for him on the Wall of Ancestors, these did nothing to dismay him, but instead pushed him to his predicted downfall. What looked from an outsider's perspective like a climb to glory was instead a crawl to that early grave his peers feared was in the cards for him. It wasn't until the charcoal robe was wrapped around his shoulders, and the coral circlet placed upon his verdant field of a head, that Shcxay dared look down at the hands that clawed through dirt and rock to get him as far as he had reached, now bloodied and raw. No, he did not climb. He sunk, sunk like he had sunk on the fateful day in the trenches, only this time he knew what was in store for him, oh how he knew just what awaited him in these abyssal lows that to others were such improbable heights, and the pressure that squeezed him made whole that which was broken. At that moment, he did not hate those who had given him the drive to achieve what he had. He merely pitied them for believing it changed anything. Embracing his uncle, he remained unphased. "I will explain in due time, Uncle. For now, it is more important that you make your presence known to our dear people." His uncle obliged, finishing his pleasantries with Juni and Uru, before requesting they accompany him on his way to the Throne of the Oceans. Shcxay caught of a glimpse of his half-brother smirking his way, before proposing a race, bolting off towards the Throne before the offer could be properly entertained. Despite his interaction with his uncle, Shcxay felt himself in a rather lighthearted mood. Uru was a headstrong man, and the thought of beating him at his own game was amusing. Having made a decision, Shcxay extended his right arm forward, and his left arm back, muttering under his breath two separate incantations, each ending in the appearance of a faint glimmer in the water first in front of him, and then behind him. As soon as these points of power manifested, Shcxay rocketed after his half-brother, pulled on one end and propelled from the other, the power of his Tidal magic surely enough to at the very least match the speed of Uru's swimming. Whether or not it was enough to earn him the victory could not yet be said.
  2. [Nymeria] About Damn Time (The Return of a King)

    Breathe. That simple word repeated itself at a mile a minute, desperately bouncing about within the skull of the man whose consciousness gave it life, hammering away it's message as he fearfully convulsed in his bed. Breathe. At last, the word and it's meaning took root. The man calmed down long enough to inhale deeply, feeling the familiar sensation of bubble-like sacs expanding at the sides of his neck, and water being first forced through, and then expelled out as the sacs deflated. This cycle continued at a rapid pace, before eventually slowing down and reaching a more steady pace. As feelings of terror left him, and sleep gradually made way for wakefulness, it all quickly came back to him. Shcxay Signowr di Nymeria reluctantly recalled the nightmare that had left him in his breathless state. Memories of his fateful descent into the deepest reaches of the trenches outside of Nymeria had a tendency to haunt him, the feeling of being crushed by the pressures below forever etched into his mind. But that of course, was in the past. Nothing could be done of it now. The fresh pain in his legs on the other hand, were not. And there was little doubt in Shcxay's mind that a trip to see Juni would remedy it for the time being. Sitting upright in his bed, Shcxay looked over to the corner of his chamber, turning his attention to where it met with the ceiling. Raising a hand, he groggily muttered the correct incantations under his breath, the dense fog of sleep clouding his mind and forcing him to give the simple spell much more effort than it typically required, almost causing him to forget to Breathe. He caught himself, afterwards returning to the spell with renewed vigor invoked by his near skipped breath. A small, barely visible shimmer at the corner of the room appeared, and Shcxay was pulled up and out of his bed towards it, before being dispelled as he reached the center of the room. He floated down to the floor, now resting on its surface much like an average creature would on dry land, his mass now bound by the larger gravitational spell keeping those within the Mage Corps.' headquarters firmly affixed to the ground. His legs ached as the weight of his body pushed down on them, and his shoulders felt heavy as the apparatus around his neck performed it's life-enabling duty. The device was a strange thing, resembling a cross between a chitinous exoskeleton, a chest-plate, and a bulky life vest. It was elegant in it's design, but incredibly unwieldy in appearance and practice. Shcxay limped over to a closet on the far side of his chamber, and began to adorn himself in his uniform. As a high-ranking officer of the Mage Corps., Shcxay's uniform consisted of a primarily silver hued light armor, accented with a light blue in places. The uniform would typically end there, but there was more to his role than that of a mere officer. Shcxay also served the important role of Nymeria's Grand Inquisitor, and both out of a sign of respect, and an understandable need for him to feed his ego, the position called for more formal dress. Over his armor, Shcxay slipped on a dark grey cloak, while atop his head he placed a circlet of jagged coral, colored a deep emerald. Taking a moment to view himself in a mirror within the closet, Shcxay briefly entertained thoughts that had long since been eradicated after his incident in the trenches. His circlet did look an awful lot like a crown, did it not? What would his father have thought of him if he had come back from his trek in one piece, rather than the broken man that he is today? What doors could have been open to him that were perhaps now closed? Breathe. These thoughts would help no one. With a slam of his closet door, Shcxay banished them back from whence they came, and lurched his way out of his chamber, down the halls of the Mage Corps. headquarters, and out onto the streets of Nymeria, his beautiful home, a destination set in mind. _ Shcxay floated through the colorful canvas township that was the Faliga, having given up on attempting to limp the whole way a quarter of the way there. Searching the crowd of huts and tents for Juni's abode, he eventually laid his eyes upon it, and steered his way towards it, drifting through it's flaps to see a rather unexpected sight. Sitting on the floor, seemingly fast asleep, was Ryxchra Alrandwe di Firdana. The King on the Waves himself. His Uncle. It had been somewhere around ten years since Shcxay had last seen this man, and it pained him to remember that it had been before he was resigned to his current state. What would he think, seeing his nephew, a young man of such potential, a bastard well on his way to proving his worth, now nothing more than a cripple, no more fit to live in the ocean than he was to live on land, his royal blood sorely lacking. Dark thought after thought collided around his skull, distracting him, consuming him, until his body betrayed him. Breathe.
  3. mother!- 10/10

    See it. I've nothing more to say. Do not under any circumstances look up the plot. If you don't like surrealism, or anything that isn't simple or straightforward, this film is not for you. If you do...just see it.

  4. Off to go see the new Aronofsky flick mother!, which is looking like it'll be the biggest cinematic mind-fuck in theaters right now, so I'm quite excited. I'll talk about it afterwards, and see if I can make any sense of it. Wish me luck.

  5. Why do you write?

    Why do I write? I suppose I write because I like to get my thoughts down on a page. It seems like my head is constantly swimming with strange, unique(ish) ideas that I'd like to utilize, to incorporate into something worth the time of others. Left alone, they're no use to anybody. Few people would likely appreciate hearing about an idea for a sackcloth dummy stuffed with crabs and an obsession with chivalry, or a senseless land where death is cheap and furniture lead cultural revolutions unless they could see it for themselves, and read about it. So that's why I write. Because one day, all the sense stupid, senseless ideas, they'll be useful. Eventually. I don't know when. David Lynch is making a resurgence, though, so it can't be too hard to make something out of what I've got.
  6. I seem to have stumbled upon this site.

    Oh, good sir, I do believe you've made the right choice in gracing our humble forum with your presence. If it's a living, breathing world you seek, then we have you covered. I truky hope that you enjoy your time here with us, as it would be painful to see a fresh face leave us soon. Goddamn, I don't think I've ever sounded so posh and pompous in a single message before. Regardless, I'm Wily, it's a pleasure to meet you, welcome to Valucre.
  7. So I'm A Pretty Big Deal

    You, I like you. You've got moxie. Pizazz even. I don't think it'd be pushing the envelope to even suggest you've got spunk. The bottom line, though, is you've got a personality that speaks to me. Quite literally. Your personality has acquired sentience, it walks and talks like a man, and last time I saw it, it had itself a cult. Of personality. One it was trying to indoctrinate me into. That's quite the personality, there. Ignoring that strange little introduction, I'm Wily, and on behalf of me, the rest of Valucre, and especially those of us who help run Elendaron, welcome.
  8. This Spookster's off to Scare L.A. What better place for one such as myself than a horror convention?

  9. I'm New and This Title Can Be Very Long, Can't it?

    Well what do we have here? A fresh face here in our ocean of infinite opportunity, our plane of imagination, our...our...synonyms. Just, more synonyms. Fill it in yourself. I welcome you with open arms, I have no doubt you'll be staying with us for a very long time. And if it's Elendaron that interests you, then perhaps you would care to take a look at my humble slice of it? Vechynacht is open to all with open minds, dark senses of humor, and forgiveness for it's unedited, horrifically formatted nature. But again, welcome. You'll love it here. It's a way of life.
  10. Hi?

    Ah, a new arrival. Excellent. If there's one thing we are always in need of around here, it's fresh meat. I welcome thee, good Sir Tutski. Long days and pleasant nights to you. And if you ever desire a delightfully strange and unedited experience, swing by my humble sub-sub-board Vechynacht.
  11. I forgot about my Valnniversary. Eleven days ago mark my second full year on this site. I'll have to do something large and unnecessary to celebrate. Just not right now.

  12. Hey, new here

    Oh, well what do you know? A new arrival. Time for me to offer up a... Warm Wily Welcome™ Greetings. How do you do? You will enjoy this site. You have no choice in the matter. Whatever all that was aside, I've got a feeling you're going to have a great time here. Good luck to you.
  13. Returning RP guy

    Well look who it is. You. With the face. And the Dark Elf. Welcome back.
  14. Pitching my tent

    I would like to offer a warm, Wily Spookster Welcome™ to you. It's like any other welcome, really, except I retain the rights to it's use and plan to cripple financially any who would dare infringe on those rights. My attempts at humor aside, I hope you enjoy your time here. It's a great place with some of the friendliest people you could meet. And if you like comedy in your horror, and can look past terrible formatting and glaring errors in continuity left over due to a lack of motivation to do any proper editing, then check out my humble Sub-Sub-Board Vechynacht. Or don't, you're a fully autonomous being capable of free will. As far as I know.
  15. What are you watching? [TV edition]

    American Gods- 10/10 How rare is it for an adaptation to truly honor it's source material? How much rarer is it for an adaptation to go beyond and transcend it's source material? Well American Gods on STARZ manages to do the latter with flying colors, turning one of my favorite novels into one of my favorite new shows. Everything from the performances, to the visuals, to the camerawork is breathtaking and at times beautifully surreal. I can't imagine a better adaptation of one of Neil Gaiman's greatest works.
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