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  1. You flatter me with all the likes :kiss:

  2. [Quest] Bogus Booty

    zzzzzzt! Somewhere that was nowhere in-particular that Sam could make out finally had some noise in it when he heard his celluar vibrating against something that sounded hollow and metallic. Huh? Where was he? He felt warmth and euphoric but he also felt cold. This wasn't right. A few moments passed in the blackness as he strained his eyes to open beyond a peak to figure out just what the hell was going on. Wherever he was there was absolutely zero light. Knowing already that his situation was dire he tried to move. Nothing. His body literally wouldn't respond. That was the last time he hooked up with a mercenary woman who obviously had ulterior motives. Wait, he did what? That's right! His ultimate weakness was the opposite sex and if he could drown in it he would have already. There was something-- well none of that matters. What does is that somehow he'd let his guard down far more than he was used to. Somewhere inbetween he'd made his way to a local inn and was ready for his happy ending, which, of course, inevitably came...but at a cost. The woman, Christina she said her name was...she was good. Not just good, but great, and not in the way you're thinking. If everything in the span of that hour they spent together while he was conscious was an act, then she likely had a dozen other identities she'd used in her tenure as a mercenary. That dirty bi- “G-gah...Gaoddamnit!” his lips were barely able to make out, no sound following. His senses were dulled almost to the point of not existing and it was hard to breathe. They made sure to cover all the stops in respects to him...were they aware of who he truly was? Not likely...but it seemed like he was useless to his team. Sometime before he'd made a promise to an unlikely fellow. At that time he realized that he was lost as all hell and in-exchange for a little bit of guidance to find his fellow brothers he'd help him with whatever it was he had going on. Little did he know he had lunged into the jaws of the proverbial beast before he was ready, and it served him right too for not rendezvousing with his peers this time around. Then again, he worked better alone. He couldn't wait for them to save him, no he refused, especially since it was possible that they'd never come. Closing his squinted eyes he entered a state of deep meditation and perhaps even reflection. The goal? Forcibly eradicate the poisonous drugs in his system and regain control of his body so he could get out of whatever hellhole he'd been duped into and crack their fuckin' skulls. Worse now though, he knew information that was almost vital to his team and he wasn't even able to tell them. Man. These bastards would rue the day they deceived a BREAKER. Somewhere in his heart if you could perceive his spiritual confidence you'd see him sneering as if he'd never lost control. “H-h-h-eh...” Here's to hoping he learned his lesson!
  3. Thanks for the like broda.

    1. Sam


      U KNO DA WEI

  4. [Quest] Bogus Booty

    erhaps Sam's underestimated how terribly lucky he could be, or maybe he had his ear to he heartbeat of his objective in ways that regulars just wouldn't understand; either way he really had to piss. Through smog and grime his lacquered boots met hard black gravel, rooftops, and even stone chimneys alike - shifting like an aimless darkness through the shadows of Tekwell. While all amount of visitors had traveled from beyond to attend the Homebrew Festival a puff of a thinly-paper rolled joint later and he had come to realize that many of the visitors arriving in the City of Smoke were out of place. Some because of their culture that didn't quite intergrate into the grit of the pale, monotonous palette of lazy brush strokes that was the city itself: others because their dispositions suggested that their conduct was a facade. An exchange of hands? Unbuttoning his pants he tilted over alongside a building in one of the alleyways somewhere near the station while balancing the torch lit between his lips that gave off a tropical vigor that most incense couldn't even match. “I came to the wrong damn city, not a woman in sight...” Sam cried aloud, trepidation miring his young face. “True...I can't imagine what attracted a child here...” a young soprano rang from deeper the entrance to the walkway just into the alley where Sam had turned to find his isolating pissing location (IPL, this is important later!?). The first thing the red-haired vagabond noticed was that her hair was short but wrapped and kept out of the lingering smog, unlike her chest that hung out from atop her metal grey armor. Unlike the other soldiers who's cultures matched other regions, hers was very much like the other suspicious individuals he'd encountered in his silent scaling of rooftops and uncle tom'ing throughout. “Kid? Fuck off. I'm a grown ass fuckin' man!” Sam shouted, stumbling for a few seconds to button his denim pants (why the fuck were there buttons?) before whipping his right hand out to point at her rudely. “Didn't Pinocchio of Cosanastre say something similar?” “He was a virgin too!” “Oh?” the woman smiled, folding her arms along her chest. Even with her relaxed stance he felt zero openings in the way she handled herself, were he to strike at any given time he knew she'd be ready and able to counter. Down the list he marked off the number of countries and continents she could be from while engaging her in playful banter but the truth became clear before he had a need to finish investigating. “What about you?” the enigmatic woman of high cheek bones and grey armor questioned him, her eyes making full contact with his own. “...you haven't come across a man like me yet...” Sam started, his voice unsettling and ominous as could be. Yet the carefree smile of adversity remained staple. “do yourself a favor and get lost, or you'll get yourself hurt...” She took a single armored step forward, her large plated hips swinging with a single preemptive move. “...big talk for such a young man...I sure hope you're legal.” “Shit!” Sam exclaimed under his breath, in excitement and dismay. A single final drag of his joint and the half-smoked black gold joint was left to burn where something strange and dangerous was born. “No. Sacrificing the lives of others for my own selfish gain is wrong...sacrificing the loves of others for my own selfish gain is wrong...sacri-” the professor regurgitated repeatedly in the darkness, his sweaty palms flipping the lacquered card emblazoned with ancient writing repeatedly. “What would my students think? No what would my mother think? I cannot betray my character!” he huffed, slamming the card on the table loud enough to echo through the darkness of the facility outside of his dimly lit office. “Out of the question. I will rely on all of our resources to make our ambitious dreams come true...and then I'll get to join you all again soon...” The bald scientist wearing huge rectangular glasses smiled faintly, his mind retreating elsewhere that brought him ease. “...I will see you soon...”
  5. Lyric Talk -- Literally

    Bitch I keep the Smith like my name Brad Pitt.
  6. Sam.

    name: ? designation: sam. age: twenty-two. height: 5'7". weight: one-hundred fifty-eight pounds. weapon: missiletainn. a longsword that can be used to channel the dragon stream or be used in succession with his wind manipulation as annotated below. overall length — 40 inches. blade length — 35 inches. guard width — 8 inches. weight — 2.3 pounds. composition — mythiril. arcane: THE DRAGON STREAM. the dragon stream [birthright] • Sam's birthright as a son of the ____ kingdom gives him him preturnatural control over the life that flows through the planet, known to him as the Dragon's Stream. With meticulous control Sam can channel it's power unto himself, making him invulnerable to suffocation, drowning, or any means of exhaustion within the body that isn't decapitation and blood loss. the dragon stream [dragon's breath] • By carefully channeling the life energy of the planet, Sam can conjure bright astral flames that effortlessly burn through magical defenses, but do little to harm the natural physical world itself. Anything born from magic, regardless of whether it retains it's magical strings, can be incinerated by the dragon's breath angel wing ashera [verrine excevva] • Having stolen the holy relic of the ____ kingdom, the angel wing ashera grants him incredible control of wind while simultaneously sapping his strength. In exchange for the blessings of zephyr, he loses his strength, but exchanges it for utility and grace. PROFILE CREATED FOR VALUCRE T1 TOURNAMENT 2016. Outdated. To be revisited.
  7. [Quest] Bogus Booty

    am was an obdurate abuser of medicinal drugs who dimly captured the zeitgeist of the most enigmatic organization of gods and kings that dared manifest: BREAKERS. Fomenting political unrest one second and sealing up waterproof bags of hermetically sealed pharmaceuticals the next the young king rotten to the core by destitution never gave even a single fuck what egregious peons that filled the lands spoke of him. None of them had felt the shallow shackles of royalty burn their wrists and bar their freedom; they weren't accustom to running the skies with gods and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that the world was only as limitless as one's imagination. No, instead they usually got a fist shoved down their throats and some much needed insight: an acuity of wisdom that he was taught inadvertently without getting flatlined himself. Word, the BREAKERS had given him everything he needed to find his way through Valucre, a land of multiple spanning continents and adventures that gave him the means to further his many passions. Some seemed random, others were intricately linked to his time in the nameless kingdom of his past, but above all his love for poetry and medicine stood at the forefront. “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA,” Young Sam chipped, two pods slipping methodical notes of music however convoluted through his ears mimicked. “I got power, poison, pain and joy inside my DN...” For miles and even days he'd spent his time rolling flaky herbs with medicinal qualities and rifling through his CasTek's Melody Simulator for a variety of outer dimension musical stations that superseded the immediate more repetitive environment. Food wasn't an issue (although the munchies siphoned his rations dramatically) but the dilemma of being lost with no real sense of direction was getting old. At first he told himself whatever, eventually he'd somehow track down Bishop or Tenju since Heidern and Elias were busy with their own bullshit but even those two had disappeared. For whatever reason this meant he was on his own and from the age of seventeen he'd been traveling the world as a rogue doctor who's renown and air of mystery would eventually reach heaven. Still, the longer his contemplating detracted from the ethereal hues of hazy smog and twisted earth, the better. Honestly this place was depressing but it wasn't unheard of for somewhere like Tekwell to exist. The bottom line is, in a land like Izral, forecasted by a witch who charged way too much for the affair, he knew he was stepping into the jaws of a beast. The downside obviously meant he wouldn't get to enjoy himself as he had throughout Alterion but it also meant that he might just find someone who could satiate his penchant for unruly belligerence the way Heidern could. Since they'd met there wasn't a single person, entity, or organization that could press him in an uncomfortable direction, or much less give him cause to worry. Pills and potions became a meddlesome alternative. When the glass-eyed neon crimson haired doctor stepped over the ridge to find the place in question his heart sank with his gas. The jelly beans he'd been consuming weren't agreeing with his dissatisfaction of what he saw. “The fuck man...” Sam groaned in displeasure, slipping his hands back into his pocket. The coarse winds blew against his immovable fixture, causing the white bandanna that covered his forehead to blow behind in symbolism of the dichotomy that was the difference between Sam and the town below. If it weren't for the drugs he'd probably leave. Everything in him was telling him this just wasn't worth his time. Then he took his first step forward, and then another. His solid black shirt tightly fit to his round, athletically cut arms, that no doubt matched his marine blue denim and just as black Vimberis Hunting Boots gave him a look of stylish intricacy he honestly didn't try too hard to achieve. With every step closer to the industrial city his hands crammed in their pockets showed outlines of rings lined along all but his thumbs and his wrists imitated as much, or atleast his left wrist did. Four golden bracelets of different origination, one lined with diamonds, another with rubies, one with intricate runic writing outside and inside of it, and another with a dragon's head. When it came down to aesthetics, Sam was unmatched. Though none of that mattered when he arrived and realized: THE HOMEBREW FESTIVAL?! “Oh fuck yeah you know I'm enterin'!” Sam made mention to a bystander near the edge of town where the last steam engine in Alterion roared. “Last place I had a drinking competition was Arkadia Prime...let's just say they don't know how to take a joke...” “Trust me, I know the feeling.” a deeper, resolute, though harmless (to Sam's judgement) replied. “As a mercenary I live for events like these. Any chance I get I'm kickin' back a few.” “Eh? Disgusting!” Sam spat, whipping his hands from his pockets and motioning for the regular black haired pedestrian to back the fuck up. “Smoking medicinal herbs is way better than destroyin' ya' liver for no reason dawg! I'm only tryna' get down for the competition!” The mercenary, though slightly bigger in stature, was covered in light tactical armor that most wouldn't pray tell to if they weren't actually looking. “What brings you to town?” Sam then inquired, crossing his arms along his chest with a glance back to admire the Wild Rose in her outdated beauty. “The festival of-course. Couldn't miss something this great on my ventures.” “In your tac' gear?” There was a brief pause. A modicum of hesitation. “Of-course, can't go anywhere without some protection right?” The mercenary was still and poised to strike. If he were telling the truth why so defensive? Anyone with any real insight would have made those stout observations out the gate: Sam on the other hand was far less flexible. “...worrrrd. Shit don't let me get in yer' wa-hey!” he gawked, realizing the mercenary had already made a hasty stride out of the station and into the depths of Tekwell. Just as he was exiting the area with his boots leaving a noticeable tread below he gave himself enough reason to still the moment for observation. His Diamond Mind Discipline was loosely a translation of what he'd learned in Oo'xora, Fudoshin. Relative seconds were able to be stilled in ephemeral glasses of stilled frames where from his own position he could observe and better prepare himself for whatever came after. Outside of competition and in a moment like this, perfect, in a brawl, not so much. Though the few seconds he had to give himself more insight to the above average mercenary that walked off into the distance was all he needed to make a series of determinations. The BREAKERS were notorious for their legends heralded through a span of time that no one quite understood. One of them, Sam, had finally made his way into Tekwell and per chance found his first and only lead. A lead that...walked away and disappeared shortly thereafter. No matter. No need to give chase either. More importantly, where the fuck were the people he was meant to rendezvous with? At this point, did it matter? Scoffing in delight his determination bled through his demeanor just as his hands slipped themselves back into his pockets and stared at the patrons that walked to and fro at the station. A few moments later and he was gone. Where? Into the damn city of course!
  8. Lyric Talk -- Literally

    Like a bad doctor I ain't got no patients (patience).
  9. Valucre T1 Tournament Lounge

    I had an idea on the dimensions but I wasn't entirely sure and was actually gonna talk to you prior, but because of how late my post was already I kinda just threw it up. It's cool though do you lol.
  10. Valucre T1 Tournament Lounge

    My bad, when I quoted his post, I actually meant this part: "That..still makes no sense to me. You still have to create the fireball before tossing it. Do people pull them out of thin air and sling them at others?"
  11. Valucre T1 Tournament Lounge

    Which is actually INSANE to me because that was one of the first things I learned when I started T1 fighting lol. Interruptions and timing.
  12. Valucre T1 Tournament Lounge

    I remember a friend of mines having a similar issue, well I wouldn't say issue, but a variance in the rules that also made him a little uneasy. I would just say it's different, but I do agree, it definitely wouldn't fly in many other places I've frequented in the past.
  13. Valucre T1 Tournament Lounge

    Said fireball would be treated as an attack of regular power though correct?
  14. What's in your speakers, nukka?

    I can't post it here as it's an iTunes exclusive release at the moment, but Frank Ocean's ENDLESS is currently on full repeat, and with good reason.