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Puranetto Ueivuzu

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About Puranetto Ueivuzu

  • Rank
    Roleplay Wizard
  • Birthday

Profile Information

  • Gender
    manly manly man
  • Location
    your ass
  • Interests
    help me
  • Occupation
    im knuckles

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  1. hohohoho my boy do you truly believe you need a quest to start a thread? LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT'S DONE I suddenly don't want to make the thread. Nevermind. But in future things, you don't need to formulate a quest to begin a thread. Hell, you can even barge into (some) threads marked Open.
  2. Can you help Jackie do grocery shopping? He can't push a cart in a wheelchair.
  3. "You're...very kind." The girl has a bit of trouble getting up, and there is hesitation to leave behind the old shoe, but finally is helped over to the jutting stones not far from where she fell. As they pass the tree, it groans and cries, as the wind mercilessly takes its anger out on the easier target. "Your name...Could you tell me?" Am grunts quietly, and strains her voice, too weak to get over the pain. Annabelle, the girl tells her. "That's a good name. Your parents must be as kind as you are. I'm...I'm Am." She settles down onto the ground, sitting up against the wall, and tugging the sword close to her, and cradles it in her arms, like she really was holding a child... The swordwife sighs, and puts the napsack in front of her, using it to elevate her broken foot, gasping with pain as she moves her leg. All of this, of course, before Annabelle can even say 'Let me help'. Am does everything on her own despite her pain, despite visibly suffering! "I've...never dealt with broken ankles, Annabelle. But I have dislocated a shoulder. It took me a while, but I learned how to relocate it." Am is silent for a while, and watches Annabelle's arms, holding the sword closer as she got closer...
  4. yo if a tree falls in a terrenian woods and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound
  5. ghastardly i believe
  6. She chewed her lip, trying not to make a sound. The handle of the sword had spilled from the bundle, the wrapped grip and the pommel, studded with a stone of good pathfinding, it gleamed in the darkness of the grass, the weakened breeze blowing Am's ponytail over her eye. It shone in the dark so slightly, the eye of stone remaining still pointing eastward. That was the way she was venturing, and the way the girl was coming toward her. Why was she hiding now?! Wasn't she convinced that the traveler was friendly?! Am didn't know why, something in her second guessed her own decision... No...I have to overcome my own heart! I can't panic again! The pain shot up her leg and stabbed her foot, the shoe crushing her wound. She cried out in pain, and declared; "I'm...over here!" The grass separated for a moment, they trickle of sunlight came through the grey clouds, and a dim spotlight showed the pale girl with paler hair lying in the dirt, cradling a wondrous sword, of a gleaming and suspicious material. The fourthling girl looked up to her savior. "I'm...I'm down here."
  7. "Constellation out...(Unintelligible noise that can not be repeated by human vocal chords.) or, Angler!" (The constellation you can see immediately, is (Once again, no onomatopeia can describe what she has said.) but you can call it Angler.) She put her hand around the boy's wrist, and drew a shape about some suspicious looking dots. It was a queer zigzag with a drop in the shape. Then, she grabbed his head, moving it to looks at the bare planks on the roof. A miracle, as the image of a fisherman, hunched over and patient, holding a rod, line cast...and at the ends of its intricate hook, no bait. "Picture liar. Never truth! Wants food." (Symbol of liars, the Angler can never tell a truth, and everything he does is for the reward of food later.) "Hidden stars..." Undae directs him to more constellations. Palace, the Thousand Buzz Beetle, a minor deity of defense, and is rumored to make warriors who wish upon his constellation have their blades vibrate, and thus deadlier. Pure legend, of course, but Undae could make that a reality, maybe. A gorgeous but tiny beetle surrounded by spiky waves is drawn a good distance away from the engraving of the Angler. The Thief's Mind, a man with his eyes apart, and mouth content, a neutral and satisfied expression. Down the middle of its face, stopping at the upper lip is a great indent in his head, making it look like a cloven hoof. The Revelers, partyers in old robes drawing on a stone wall using wax and wood as ink and pen. Their art is a work in progress, and the drunk young men are only two penstrokes in to their work. One wear's an academic's square hat. The Family, a father, mother, and son sharing a giant chair, the son, a mere babe, lying on the mother's arms, with the father's protective limbs draped over the woman and child. Defending, but not concealing the father's most precious things from the viewer. All sorts of doodles, in jagged, stylistic detail. The minor deity supposedly responsible for these bizarre engravings; Drinkaboss, an impish thing with a single curled hair, holding a chewed, bloody pencil in grotesque, squared teeth, that were dark as night. When the doodling ended, an entire tiny starmap was on the roof. Where the sun should be, a big circle was made, and a splinter broke off. Undae took the piece of wood, and carved inside the lines. A grumbly looking face, with a great spiralling horn coming out of its forehead, stern, squinting eyes, and shaggy hair that hung downwards like an itchy willow. It was unclear who it was, until Undae elaborated, voice having a twinge of emotion, but it was more...pride. Like the person she describes has never left. "Brother." And the demoness stabbed the splinter into the picture, creating his pointy nose. "He is part of the day lights."
  8. The shuffle came to a stop, as the hiss that made Am's teeth chatter started up below her jaw, the obscured face appearing once again against her neck, as if someone had placed their head on her shoulder, and nuzzled their face against her. A woman's face. A face that kind of looked like hers, but then again, didn't look very related to her at all. A white, bloodshot eye, on the left side of her face stared at her, and made contact. "A SWORDSWOMAN. SHE IS ENVIOUS AT HEART OF ALL OTHER SWORD WIELDERS, AND WANTS THE BLADE THAT WILL STRIKE DOWN EVERY FOE. KEEP IT FROM HER, AM!" The voice of her foremothers, nagging. She cannot tell if it is a true apparition, or something her mind has created to give her a cruel voice of reason to snap her out of the misery of loneliness. Sometimes, she has thought the spirit came from the sword. None else can see her disembodied head sitting on her shoulder, cold, misty breath hardening the cloth of her collar, nor did they see her blink. Not that Am did, either. "She...no, she's too short to hurt me. I'll walk around her. I can run from her. I can...I outran a boar." It was more climbed away from at the last second than outran. "ARROWS?" It demanded an answer. "W-What?" "HAVE YOU EVER OUTRUN ARROWS? NO COVER THIS TIME." Open fields, the only cover being a beaten and weary tree, with few leaves and few years left, crooked, and gnarled, the wood in literal knots, and constricted by grass, making it seem shackled to the earth, rather than a normal tree in a windy plain. "...Maybe she's friendly." "MAYBE...SHE WANTS YOUR SWORD." "..." The swordwife looked up from the black head on her shoulder, and shrugged a lock of itchy, tangled hair off her neck, and the girl stared. The short one in the distance waved her arm. "THESE ARE FOREIGN LANDS. THAT GESTURE COULD MEAN 'PREPARE FOR DEATH'!" "Everyone waves to say hello! Stop yelling at me and--" The weight on her shoulder was gone, and the sword slumped. Am sighed a tired sigh, as another chop from the wind moved her backwards, taking a couple steps back, and a twist went into her ankle. "Keergh--!" The shriek was muted by more gusts whipping her hair around, the savage winds catching her breath as it invaded her nostrils, she fought to exhale for a second, and then looked to her sprained ankle. The bone didn't snap right out of her, but it was clearly injured, and no good. It was the worst pain she'd ever felt since the thickets to the west, and the hard, gnarled shoe squeezing on the bruised flesh and muscle made the pain more excruciating. She fought to not scream pathetically, and worthless tear drops, a mere three, sprinkle the dirt, as grass moved to cover her, as if shielding her out of sympathy. The tall blades acted as guards, rapiers extended to block the mighty sabers of wind, and she rested beneath them for a second. "This is your fault..." The fourthling woman cursed her foremothers, for the thousandth time that day.
  9. @Warlock The cold breeze and gnawing sunlight is bleak, her sore legs itching on the old cloth, and her arms, numb from strain, hold a bundle, its contents hidden. The young woman, pale and ambiguous of species, seems to be an amalgam of races, with a Genesarian's nose, a northerner's blue eyes, and pointed tips to her ears, subtle but visible, implying elf somewhere in her bloodline. Her figure is stout, majestic, constructed of connected ovals, and curved features. Battered shoes with ruined soles, with heavy thermal socks covering her feet, or else she would be stepping in filthy mud and field mouse droppings. The marshy aftereffects of rain in a low altitude area of the grasslands soak her already ruined shoes, and her steps are uneven and awkward. A napsack, and a corked canteen hang on her back, the burden making the girl hunch. Am, the Swordwife, continues, and steps over an old breastplate of a bandit lost long ago, leaving it behind. The grass thrashes in a slicing gust, cutting Am's balance apart, and she drops, her knees almost hitting the slushy soil. She raises to her feet, and walks diagonal to the winds, zig zagging, creating more work, and more suffering. There is only one thing that keeps her on her lonely road. The sacred adage of her family... Bring the sword to him, for your mother's sake, your mother's mother's sake, and for all preceding mothers' sakes--For the sake of the world, save the sword's soul!
  10. Undae became frustrated with Matthias, demanding again she is helped with the buttons of the shirt. A deal is struck, however, and Undae puts on the underwear, save the brassiere. Undae demonstrates her problem, the buttons, other than the topmost one, keep going in the wrong holes. After solving this tiny problem, that did not need a post by the other narrator to solve (because that would be a waste of his valuable time.) Undae is half dressed. "I must show!" (I have to show you something important!) She reaches under the bed frame, and produces a book; A Fool's Guide to Stargazing "I will teach. It is dark out, perfect time! Please!" (I want to teach you about the cosmos. Since it's the middle of night, we can just go out right now.) Before Matthias can offer more pants, Undae unlocks the window, and is beginning to climb out, swinging a leg up to cling to the shingles, and rolls onto the roof, soft footsteps heard above, and going to the squarish centre of the two story building's roof. The sky is ominously clear, and the colorful distant galaxies are just barely there.
  11. "...Oooooh..." Undae looked him up and down during and after the undressed state he was in, and seemed to be very curious about what she saw-- --Er, uh, in the sense that when she saw his scars, she put a hand on her own scar, the one near her mouth. When the clothes came on, she felt better; this was no trick of some sort; if her warrior can dress up, so can she! Undae dashed back into the wardrobe, and slammed the door shut with an eager grin. Rustling, and a lot of fumbling, caused a half naked and frustrated Undae to step out of the wardrobe, only dressed in a white dress shirt, only the top button fastened, the shameless--or at least, she hadn't gained shame yet--Undae grumbled, bringing up the ends of her shirt, and offering up the cloth to him, inadvertently flashing him. Undae's tiny body wasn't incredibly supple. Flat little things, gentle bumps. Her stomach could be fuller, her lower ribs exposed. Her hips were not much to stare at, and, thank the stars, she did not have anything abnormal for a female going on between these hips. But... Undae's legs. Slender things, with long, sufficiently meated thighs, and cute calves, these strong extremities were a gorgeous quality of hers. Despite all of this, she's looking at Matthias with a dorky half-smile, happy that he can help but still hating that she sucks at clothes when Matthias does it perfectly! Matthias, whatever he's feeling right now, gets a smidgen of a small, but clearly there sentiment; 'This is going to be a long lesson'.
  12. yes, you are.
  13. "Hummmmm." She steps inside the closet, and shuts the door, acting as if it was a separate room in the house, and began selecting clothes, rustling and bustling inside. When she withdrew, she held the men's sweater, and the tough denim pants. She seems to not believe in footwear, and has kicked a few over in the closet. She has her snaggletooth stuck out in delight as she hands the extremely...plain set of clothes. "Scarf too!" She takes it from under the mattress, and shoves the bundle of clothes into his arms. "Go on!"
  14. hope my post was good too!
  15. "I'd be able to take her..." Where was this mumbly, murmuring, voice coming from? It seemed to come from all angles..! "Right...I'll step out, now." The source reveals itself immediately, stepping out from behind the woman. When had he arrived there?! How could he be behind the winged woman?! Especially with him being...taller, much taller than the armored savior. Dimly glowing golden eyes with little beetle colored pupils shine past shaggy black hair, the bangs covering most of his face like a veil, an unavoidable trait, as this creature was... REVO, THE HIDEBEHIND! Hidebehinds are extraordidnary beings, in that they are obscenely rare to come upon, the shyest of all creatures, and their hair always seems to obscure at least one part of their face. ...But he doesn't exactly look like the type you hand a child to, especially not with mudcaked red boots, crumpled oversized trousers only kept on by two (2) belts, and a stolen varsity jacket from some wizard school of Bronte, that was worn over a maroon turtleneck. In short, a mess. "...No? I understand. In this case...I'll be over your shoulder." There wasn't much time to protest, as he took one step out of the three's line of sight, and was completey and utterly gone, after the sound of moist, crunching bones. August would hear the voice coming out of his shoulderblade, as if some demon had attached itself to his back! "It's made of fire...can't go downwind. Fight it from below, or get the winged one to blow it higher so it can't reach you..." the mumbling advised. "...That's my view on it. I cannot fight with you, but I am here to help you make haste..."