13900IpForThis Member
Most Likely To Die First
STATUS: I feel naked, with all of these people viewing my profile. 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
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- 13900IpForThis 8 yrs ago
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I feel naked, with all of these people viewing my profile.
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If it's fantasy, intricate, and has a relation to tearing things apart, or strategizing of how to tear things apart, then I would gladly join whatever sadistic aspiration you have in mind.
Most Recent Posts
Reken regretted opening his eyes--both sets of eyes. At one page of his mind, he saw a little girl dressed strangely, on the other, he saw, and felt the texture of the trees, the softness of the ground, a gigantic bird flying in the skies, and the freshness of the river all at once entered him without order or mind, driving his insides madder than he thought possible.
He ignored the girl for now, and tried to shut his eyes, his other eyes, which sadly only resulted in him foolishly blinking like a madman. After a few moments, he tried to recall the feelings of his nerves, without all the agony of course, and willed it, desiring it to move, without moving. Difficult, but not unreasonably so. The range in which his, call it Mental Eyes, observed things dwindled from the outside, their scope finally being reducing until it only saw stitched body on the ground. Then nothing but darkness.
Dizzy, Reken felt back in his body. The soreness was livid, reminding him of the time did a marathon. Attempting to move was returned with a hundred different muscles complaining, stretching and tugging. He wasn't going anywhere for a bit. That left his eyes and a tired mind to use. Darting around, he observed the foreign girl that spoke rubbish a few moments ago, a unfamiliar setting, and most strange of all, the body that remained to breath--his body. Reken should not be alive. He felt the life seeping out of him, out of the many cuts in the outside and the ones inside as well. Yet he could breath, and nothing seemed to be broken. Odd.
He sighed, suddenly being aware of the vicious hunger in his stomach. It's roar was enough to sway the trees, he thought. Saved him the effort of sounding like a fool however, Reken observed from the girl's flushed face. The guy however, had no money much less clothing even, but since the girl had bothered to stick with his useless body for...a time? He wasn't sure how long she was there, but he reckoned she wouldn't leave him to starve after that ordeal. Reken laboriously lifted his hands a couple inches from the ground, motioning his index finger in the direction of a spot populated with thick bushes and trees. He hoped she understood the meaning behind it, as his hands dropped dead after a moments breath.
A viscous hunger threatened to rip Reken's inside. He felt it's desires, the will to devour anything. It craved something to sink its fangs into, and even though the girl wasn't Reken's type, she seemed strangely appetizing to him.
He ignored the girl for now, and tried to shut his eyes, his other eyes, which sadly only resulted in him foolishly blinking like a madman. After a few moments, he tried to recall the feelings of his nerves, without all the agony of course, and willed it, desiring it to move, without moving. Difficult, but not unreasonably so. The range in which his, call it Mental Eyes, observed things dwindled from the outside, their scope finally being reducing until it only saw stitched body on the ground. Then nothing but darkness.
Dizzy, Reken felt back in his body. The soreness was livid, reminding him of the time did a marathon. Attempting to move was returned with a hundred different muscles complaining, stretching and tugging. He wasn't going anywhere for a bit. That left his eyes and a tired mind to use. Darting around, he observed the foreign girl that spoke rubbish a few moments ago, a unfamiliar setting, and most strange of all, the body that remained to breath--his body. Reken should not be alive. He felt the life seeping out of him, out of the many cuts in the outside and the ones inside as well. Yet he could breath, and nothing seemed to be broken. Odd.
He sighed, suddenly being aware of the vicious hunger in his stomach. It's roar was enough to sway the trees, he thought. Saved him the effort of sounding like a fool however, Reken observed from the girl's flushed face. The guy however, had no money much less clothing even, but since the girl had bothered to stick with his useless body for...a time? He wasn't sure how long she was there, but he reckoned she wouldn't leave him to starve after that ordeal. Reken laboriously lifted his hands a couple inches from the ground, motioning his index finger in the direction of a spot populated with thick bushes and trees. He hoped she understood the meaning behind it, as his hands dropped dead after a moments breath.
A viscous hunger threatened to rip Reken's inside. He felt it's desires, the will to devour anything. It craved something to sink its fangs into, and even though the girl wasn't Reken's type, she seemed strangely appetizing to him.
Transferred into a fantasy world nonsense.
That's basically the story, for my character at least. You can be a fellow traveler, a resident, or a fucking frog if you want. I would like to have a realistic plot, and by that I mean being maimed for stupid decisions and perma-death for ultra stupid decisions. No rainbows and unicorns here. But if there are unicorns, then you better come with a shield and a very, very sharp sword.
Magic works through a will of mind, but may be as complex and intricate as you wish it to be. Adding limitations to it though, will obviously make it stronger. Keep in mind however, that magic is actually scarce. It is weak but can be effective, like setting fire to wood or to breathing underwater. More complex magic will require some type of rituals, material, and time.
Roughly though, there are two types of magics: Learned and Innate. Innate occurs when birthed or when a character goes through a life threatening situation. These are typically unique and powerful, but with considerable draw backs or limitations. Innate could also be obtained, from ways I will leave to your imagination. Learned, is the typical apprentice style magic. Energy bolts that are typically as strong as a crossbow bolt, cold resistance, basic first aid, and whatever useful quirks that you can think of.
Try not to break too much physics. Example: If a certain magic seeks to create heat, then the heat energy must be derived from another source, such as the surroundings or your own body even. If there is no way to convincingly explain a magic, then chances are it shouldn't be used.
There are little guidelines, as you can see, but a general role of thumb is that this is no Four-guys-and-a-hot-chick-try-to-save-the-world-bullshit. There are greater forces, but none of us will dazzle a princess with our flamboyant skills or be roaring fireballs at ancient and powerful dragons.
Of course, having side characters, such as the foxy underground merchant, the assassin guild, or even a peasant to which our group, or whoever decides to directly join hands, will reside in, is completely welcomed. They can be main characters of course, and can be as complex and vibrant as you wish them to be. As you can observe, killing goblins won't drop gold out of their asses. A skill to harvest the beasts, to hull, cut, and carry them is all part of it. Selling, buying, and a great deal of other stuff will be required.
To give you a sense of perspective, a goblin is a worthy match for someone who lacks the required training or tactical advantages. Think of it with a typical RPG system, but without the numerical numbers.
Putting it mildly, dying, starving, and disease are things not above us. In fact, it's more fun when the world tries to kill us. Luck of course, also plays a huge role, so feel free to throw a dice and see how shit works out for you in particular scenarios. I'll be using an arbitrary system for that when it comes to such important decisions, but if someone else offers a ready and more effective system, then I'll gladly welcome it.
As you can see, I am knew to this website. I do not use the "character" system, not out of preference, but because of familiarity.
I welcome advise, feedback, and death-letters.
Edit.1: I forgot to mention the use of Common Sense. It is important, please utilize it.
That's basically the story, for my character at least. You can be a fellow traveler, a resident, or a fucking frog if you want. I would like to have a realistic plot, and by that I mean being maimed for stupid decisions and perma-death for ultra stupid decisions. No rainbows and unicorns here. But if there are unicorns, then you better come with a shield and a very, very sharp sword.
Magic works through a will of mind, but may be as complex and intricate as you wish it to be. Adding limitations to it though, will obviously make it stronger. Keep in mind however, that magic is actually scarce. It is weak but can be effective, like setting fire to wood or to breathing underwater. More complex magic will require some type of rituals, material, and time.
Roughly though, there are two types of magics: Learned and Innate. Innate occurs when birthed or when a character goes through a life threatening situation. These are typically unique and powerful, but with considerable draw backs or limitations. Innate could also be obtained, from ways I will leave to your imagination. Learned, is the typical apprentice style magic. Energy bolts that are typically as strong as a crossbow bolt, cold resistance, basic first aid, and whatever useful quirks that you can think of.
Try not to break too much physics. Example: If a certain magic seeks to create heat, then the heat energy must be derived from another source, such as the surroundings or your own body even. If there is no way to convincingly explain a magic, then chances are it shouldn't be used.
There are little guidelines, as you can see, but a general role of thumb is that this is no Four-guys-and-a-hot-chick-try-to-save-the-world-bullshit. There are greater forces, but none of us will dazzle a princess with our flamboyant skills or be roaring fireballs at ancient and powerful dragons.
Of course, having side characters, such as the foxy underground merchant, the assassin guild, or even a peasant to which our group, or whoever decides to directly join hands, will reside in, is completely welcomed. They can be main characters of course, and can be as complex and vibrant as you wish them to be. As you can observe, killing goblins won't drop gold out of their asses. A skill to harvest the beasts, to hull, cut, and carry them is all part of it. Selling, buying, and a great deal of other stuff will be required.
To give you a sense of perspective, a goblin is a worthy match for someone who lacks the required training or tactical advantages. Think of it with a typical RPG system, but without the numerical numbers.
Putting it mildly, dying, starving, and disease are things not above us. In fact, it's more fun when the world tries to kill us. Luck of course, also plays a huge role, so feel free to throw a dice and see how shit works out for you in particular scenarios. I'll be using an arbitrary system for that when it comes to such important decisions, but if someone else offers a ready and more effective system, then I'll gladly welcome it.
As you can see, I am knew to this website. I do not use the "character" system, not out of preference, but because of familiarity.
I welcome advise, feedback, and death-letters.
Edit.1: I forgot to mention the use of Common Sense. It is important, please utilize it.
Is there space still, or have you gathered all the necessary players?
Reken never liked getting drunk. Others sought to loosen their control over themselves, to separate their bodies from their soul and be nothing. But not Reken. He despised losing control, despised the way the world danced around him in a hundred ever changing shapes. He wanted to feel every inch of his life, every nail and pain into his body.
Today though, he did not. His mind felt dreary and tired, his body filled with so many holes even the gentle sway of the wind seemed to molest his wrecked insides. He was neither conscious or unconscious, neither alive or dead. Reken could feel it, a gentle hand, a swaying angle looking over him, tugging at him, wishing him, pulling him towards her. He could also feel the slumber, a deep and tired desire to wholly close his eyes, his second eyes. He felt them both, and fought against both equally so.
Reken is not to be moved. If God wants him to go right, then he'll go left. If his arms are broken and refuse to move, then move them he will. If death came calling, then he'll beat it with it's legs own legs.
Thus for a long time, Reken felt his limbs. The broken shards of his fists, his twisted elbow, the cracked forearm, the dislocated shoulder, the cuts of his skin, mostly throughout his back, and their depth. Oddly, he even felt them stitching, coming together, bonding and combining. The blood which drenched out of his guts now only seeped slowly, drop by drop until it was halted, kept in by something. His muscles, previously torn and removed from their spots, reattached themselves with a precarious virtuosity, as if willed by something. Something foreign. It was an oddity in his body. Then he noticed it, a thing resonating from his blood, and not from whatever was poking its tentacles inside his limp body. It was hungered for more. He felt it brutality rushing through out his body like a fire. It washed over each spot the foreign force touched, reattaching bones or muscle tissue the foreign one had missed, even fabricated entirely new ones to fill in the holes. It guided the foreign one, controlling where it got out of hand, and kept him from what felt like creating a third limb. He wouldn't like that, No. And where the foreign one refused to cease it's endeavors, then the blood simply devoured it. Blood, Reken would call it Blood from now on, as it certainty resided in it. How he know, Reken wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure how he could feel it, or anything for a matter of fact, but he could. And he didn't like not knowing.
His body was his, and he would choose whether to fix it or not. His eyes, his tired and dry eyes, refused to open. Reken willed it with all his might, willing his dead arms to force them open, but they would not. Frustrated, Reken bared his teeth, his full set of newly created teeth, and tugged at his stubborn body. His nerves almost buckled, but his eyes creaked open. The blinding light came quick and merciless, too bright and radiant, as if he was a newborn pulp. The burn slowly resided, unleashing an endless series of tall trees, lush grass, and a river that flew with gold instead of water. Then he saw his body.
Red with blood, tattered beyond belief, and nude. His guts lurch at that sight, yet he could not turn his "eyes" away. Reken felt the world at once, the shape and colors of it. The birds singing in the trees, the shape of fox striding hundreds of feet away, a particular ominous force stalking him, and someone alive washing over him, just an arm away.
His eyes, his real eyes, bolted open, staring into one of the branches of a far off tree. He stared into it, seeing what looked like a startled child gaze back. Hair as black as Reken's, with dark pupils that screeched to look it.
It's surprise slowly changed into a glee. A devious and wretched smile Reken knew he would despise. It mocked him before "it" closed, leaving him look with both sets of eyes dazed.
His screams came first, the pain after. Then he realized he was awake.
Today though, he did not. His mind felt dreary and tired, his body filled with so many holes even the gentle sway of the wind seemed to molest his wrecked insides. He was neither conscious or unconscious, neither alive or dead. Reken could feel it, a gentle hand, a swaying angle looking over him, tugging at him, wishing him, pulling him towards her. He could also feel the slumber, a deep and tired desire to wholly close his eyes, his second eyes. He felt them both, and fought against both equally so.
Reken is not to be moved. If God wants him to go right, then he'll go left. If his arms are broken and refuse to move, then move them he will. If death came calling, then he'll beat it with it's legs own legs.
Thus for a long time, Reken felt his limbs. The broken shards of his fists, his twisted elbow, the cracked forearm, the dislocated shoulder, the cuts of his skin, mostly throughout his back, and their depth. Oddly, he even felt them stitching, coming together, bonding and combining. The blood which drenched out of his guts now only seeped slowly, drop by drop until it was halted, kept in by something. His muscles, previously torn and removed from their spots, reattached themselves with a precarious virtuosity, as if willed by something. Something foreign. It was an oddity in his body. Then he noticed it, a thing resonating from his blood, and not from whatever was poking its tentacles inside his limp body. It was hungered for more. He felt it brutality rushing through out his body like a fire. It washed over each spot the foreign force touched, reattaching bones or muscle tissue the foreign one had missed, even fabricated entirely new ones to fill in the holes. It guided the foreign one, controlling where it got out of hand, and kept him from what felt like creating a third limb. He wouldn't like that, No. And where the foreign one refused to cease it's endeavors, then the blood simply devoured it. Blood, Reken would call it Blood from now on, as it certainty resided in it. How he know, Reken wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure how he could feel it, or anything for a matter of fact, but he could. And he didn't like not knowing.
His body was his, and he would choose whether to fix it or not. His eyes, his tired and dry eyes, refused to open. Reken willed it with all his might, willing his dead arms to force them open, but they would not. Frustrated, Reken bared his teeth, his full set of newly created teeth, and tugged at his stubborn body. His nerves almost buckled, but his eyes creaked open. The blinding light came quick and merciless, too bright and radiant, as if he was a newborn pulp. The burn slowly resided, unleashing an endless series of tall trees, lush grass, and a river that flew with gold instead of water. Then he saw his body.
Red with blood, tattered beyond belief, and nude. His guts lurch at that sight, yet he could not turn his "eyes" away. Reken felt the world at once, the shape and colors of it. The birds singing in the trees, the shape of fox striding hundreds of feet away, a particular ominous force stalking him, and someone alive washing over him, just an arm away.
His eyes, his real eyes, bolted open, staring into one of the branches of a far off tree. He stared into it, seeing what looked like a startled child gaze back. Hair as black as Reken's, with dark pupils that screeched to look it.
It's surprise slowly changed into a glee. A devious and wretched smile Reken knew he would despise. It mocked him before "it" closed, leaving him look with both sets of eyes dazed.
His screams came first, the pain after. Then he realized he was awake.
Reken felt bones crack under his fists, their fissure echoing alongside his friend’s screams. How many did that make? First was the knee, something too easily broken with a little deviation of force when charging. The idiot was fueled by nothing but a blinding fear of pain, which ironically only brought further and more extreme measures of torment. Never charge into a more skilled opponent. Didn’t Reken teach him this already? The right shoulder was popped next when Reken held his foot against Alfred’s back as he pulled on his arms. He learned that from move from Naruto. The nose was smashed when Alfred was wiggling on the grass, a couple of teeth falling with it. Reken lost it for a small time, coming to himself smashing his fists against Alfred’s face.
“Was that the cheekbone? No…” he stopped. The grinding of bones he had heard was from his fist, not Alfred. With a grimace, Reken got up and walked through the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His blood. He gave another grimace as he pulled the knife from his stomach, oblivious to the blood pouring out, and returned it to its owner with a flick of his hand. It landed near the pile of bodies, closest to one of the smallest guys. It was always the small one that gets you, Alfred should remember that. Reken was sure he started with six of them, but two had the sane mind to run away mid fight, when Reken had three knives sticking of out him.There were about four left, including the redhead, Alfred. He was blond before, but the blood had changed that. Reken’s blood again. He never did like using knifes, there was no joy in it if he couldn’t feel his opponent's body squish under him. Today though was different. The fight had started with a backstab; Alfred, previously one of the few men Reken trusted, stuck a knife in his back, piercing the back of his ribs. Things got messy afterwards as his goons, mainly made up of boy’s Reken had broken before, charged with a typical smug dick look. Reken laughed as they stuck a knife in his guts. He laughed even more when he beat them senselessly.
Reken felt proud, even as he pulled the last knife from his left shoulder. The one that was in his guts was impaled into one of the boys, the largest one most likely. His first kill too. Reken had previously participated in fights with unfavorable circumstances, but this? It was whole new level. A shame that he won’t live long enough to indulge in it. Ten too many cuts.
Reken kept walking, aimlessly yet with a destination in mind. Gang wars was never his thing, but one thing lead to another. It began with a school fight, somehow escalating to him being the boss of an entire district after a couple of years and hundreds of extra fights. Reken turned right with conviction, something odd to do when lost in an increasingly darkening forest. Wasn’t there more light than this? How long has he been walking for? He hooked left again. Reken had expected his end to be met with a gunshot, something that would be very difficult to dodge. He was wrong about that, but he was right about the betrayal. It was always how big men fell. Either a knife to the dick or a knife by a dick. The sounds of water running filled Reken mind. He took a left again, then another left, which did not make sense, as it would have lead right back to where he began.
The sight of a glamorous river proved otherwise. Reken only realized now how dark the forest had been when he stared at the flowing river, it’s silver lights bright enough warm his cold limbs. He walked forward, pushing away the branches of a tree before having a coughing fit, the shudders obnoxiously reminding him how broken he was. He spit out blood, a few teeth coming out with it. He looked up, not finding the moon. Strange.
Reken slumped down against a tree, allowing his legs to bath in the water. One of the few body parts that weren’t broken, he noticed. They were good legs. Small but sturdy and strong. Agile too. It was a good run. Eighteen years of life took longer than he expected. They got him by so much, and he felt more thankful towards them than anyone else in his life. His long and lonely life. Reken glanced one final time at his tanned skin, now blended with dried blood, and slowly let go, gently falling into the river.
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