My current main struggle is finding a name. lol The one I'm working with right now feels a little too on-the-nose.
Crimson Raven
Member
*Rolls a Nat 1*
STATUS: 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. 4 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 5009 (1.44 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Danyel
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Recent Statuses
4 yrs ago
Current
'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
4 yrs ago
I say the words that I wish someone would tell me in vain hope that they might be returned to me.
2
likes
4 yrs ago
Existence continues.
4 yrs ago
So much I want to do, so little time...
1
like
4 yrs ago
“I’ve met some pricks in my time. But you, sir...” He said to the offending cactus.
7
likes
Bio
“NO ADMITTANCE.
NOT EVEN TO AUTHORISED PERSONNEL.
YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME HERE.
GO AWAY.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
NOT EVEN TO AUTHORISED PERSONNEL.
YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME HERE.
GO AWAY.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
NOTICE
Thank you for Noticing This Notice.
Your Noting it has been Noted.
And it has been Reported to the proper Authority.
Hello lurker/ My old friend/ I've come to talk to you again/ Because a shadow softly creeping/ Lurking in the chat while I was sleeping/ And the roleplay that was forming in my brain/ Still remains with the sound of lurking.
In dead roleplays I walked alone/ Narrow pathways of casual zone...
Need mor ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
(Made in collaboration with @hatakekuro)
It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them to be in. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.
--Douglass Adams
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
~~As You Like It, Shakespear
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
~~ Macbeth, Shakespear
“All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.”
“The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.”
“What do you know?”
“Almost everything. That almost part can be a real kick in the teeth sometimes.”
“What do you want, then?”
“What I can’t have.” Wit turned to him, eyes solemn. “Same as everyone else, Kaladin Stormblessed.”
"Two blind men waited at the end of an era, contemplating beauty. They sat atop the world’s highest cliff, overlooking the land and seeing nothing.
'Can beauty be taken from a man?' the first asked the second.
'It was taken from me,' the second replied. 'For I cannot remember it.' This man was blinded in a childhood accident. 'I pray to the God Beyond each night to restore my sight, so that I can find beauty again.'
'Is beauty something one must see then?' the first asked.
'Of course. That is it’s nature. How can you appreciate a work of art without seeing it?'
'I can hear a work of music,' the first said.
'Very well, you can hear some kinds of beauty - but you cannot know full beauty without sight. You can know only a small portion of beauty.'
'A sculpture,' the first said. 'Can I not feel its curves and slopes, the touch of the chisel that transformed common rock into uncommon wonder?'
'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a sculpture.'
'And what of the beauty of food? Is it not a work of art when a chef crafts a masterpiece to delight the tastes?'
'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a chef’s art.'
'And what of the beauty of a woman,' the first said. 'Can I not know her beauty in the softness of her caress, the kindness of her voice, the keenness of her mind as she reads philosophy to me? Can I not know this beauty? Can I not know most kinds of beauty, even without seeing it?'
'Very well,' said the second. 'But what if your ears were removed, your hearing taken away? Your tongue taken out, your mouth forced shut, your sense of smell destroyed? What if your skin were burned so that you could no longer feel? What if all that remained to you was pain? You could not know beauty then. It can be taken from a man.'"
The messenger stopped, cocking his head to Shallan.
"What?" she asked.
"What think you? Can beauty be taken from a man? If he could not touch, taste, smell, hear, see, what if all he knew was pain? Has that man had beauty taken away from him?"
"I…" What did this have to do with anything? "Does the pain change day by day?"
"Let us say it does," the messenger said.
"Then beauty, to that person, would be the times when the pain lessens. Why are you telling me this story?"
The messenger smiled. "To be human is to seek beauty, Shallan. Do not despair, do not end the hunt because thorns grow in your way. Tell me, what is the most beautiful thing you can imagine?"
...
“In this,” Wit said, “as in all things, our actions give us away. If an artist creates a work of powerful beauty – using new and innovative techniques – she will be lauded as a master, and will launch a new movement in aesthetics. Yet what if another, working independently with that exact level of skill, were to make the same accomplishments the very next month? Would she find similar acclaim? No. She’d be called derivative.
“So it’s not beauty itself we admire. It’s not the force of intellect. It’s not the invention, aesthetics, or capacity itself. The greatest talent we think a man can have?” He plucked a final string. “Seems to me that it must be nothing more than novelty.”
"A blind man awaited the era of endings," Wit said, "contemplating the beauty of nature."
Silence
"That man is me," Wit noted. "I'm not physically blind, just spiritually. And that other statement was actually very clever, if you think about it."
"What is it to be witty, then?”
“To say clever things.”
“And what is cleverness?”
“I…” Why was he having this conversation? “I guess it’s the ability to say and do the right things at the right time.”
The King’s Wit cocked his head, then smiled.
“Expectation. That is the true soul of art. If you can give a man more than he expects, then he will laud you his entire life. If you can create an air of anticipation and feed it properly, you will succeed.
“Conversely, if you gain a reputation for being too good, too skilled . . . beware. The better art will be in their heads, and if you give them an ounce less than they imagined, suddenly you have failed. Suddenly you are useless. A man will find a single coin in the mud and talk about it for days, but when his inheritance comes and is accounted one percent less than he expected, then he will declare himself cheated.”
Wit shook his head, standing up and dusting off his coat. “Give me an audience who have come to be entertained, but who expect nothing special. To them, I will be a god. That is the best truth I know.”
~~ Stromlight Archive, Brandon Sanderson
"You see, whether you can draw like this or not, being able to think up this kind of design, it depends on whether or not you can say to yourself, ‘Oh, yeah, girls like this exist in real life. If you don’t spend time watching real people, you can’t do this, because you’ve never seen it. Some people spend their lives interested only in themselves. Almost all Japanese animation is produced with hardly any basis taken from observing real people, you know. It’s produced by humans who can’t stand looking at other humans. And that’s why the industry is full of otaku!"
-Hayao Miyazaki
"In culture an analogous situation leads to the emergence of enclaves shut up in ghettos, where intellectual production likewise stagnates because of inbreeding in the form of incessant repetition of the selfsame creative patterns and techniques. The internal dynamics of the ghetto may appear to be intense, but with the passage of years it becomes evident that this is only a semblance of motion, since it leads nowhere, since it neither feeds into nor is fed by the open domain of culture, since it does not generate new patterns or trends, and since finally it nurses the falsest of notions about itself, for lack of any honest evaluation of its activities from outside."
~Stanislaw Lem, author of Solaris
Some heartfelt music while you lurk
Or U liSTEN TO tem MOOSIC!
I just don't want you to have a Bad Time...
What do I live for?
"I think I've seen this movie before." -@Guess Who
I LOVE TVTROPES!
Most Recent Posts
<Snipped quote by Crimson Raven>
Could be an ineresting angle - shoot PM to @Goldeagle1221 and I and we can chat about it!
Gotcha. I'll do so in the morning. or whenever I wake up, could be noon It's getting late.
<Snipped quote by Rtron>
Yes, magic artifacts are definitely a thing - maybe the most prominent source of magic your characters will encounter beyond the monsters or your own spellcasting ability (if you've got it).
These artifacts are a throwback to things like the Golden Fleece or the armor of Achilles, or the Spear of Longinus, etc.
Ideally, these would be found during the IC, instead of starting equipment.
Could I have an artifact but the character has no idea what it does? And somewhere along the way, (not immediately) they have an 'Oh, so that's what it does.' moment after they figure out how to use it. I can tell you in advance what it does, so that you can plan around that and it's not an accidental deus ex machina.
We have a lot of birds here...
I guess birds of a feather flock together.
I guess birds of a feather flock together.
"Now what could you want with little ol' me?"
Name: Enlil Chandr
Nickname: En
Sex: Male
Place of Origin: Roshad
Appearance: Young, diminutive, and a tad on the short side, En doesn't cut a particularly inspiring figure. His lazy smile, unkept wheat-colored hair, and tendency to slouch further give the impression of someone who isn't very heroic or reliable. His golden eyes ruin the image however, sparkling with equal parts humour and intelligence. He does posses more muscle then one would expect, but it's hidden under several lays of garments that are distinctly Rochadian in design, and a size or two too big, worn loose and haphazardly. He carries with him a peculiar wooden staff, jet black in color and taller then he is. It is adorned with a twisting loop at the top and a curved base.
Psyche: Laidback and easygoing, En tends to be cheerfully frivolous, going through life at his own pace. Almost contradictory to this, he is an adventurous soul with boundless curiosity. His intelligence and skill in magic is unquestionable. He is, quite simply a prodigy the likes of which have not been seen for a very long time, although he will downplay it. Not one to grab the spotlight, he is fine with 'working in the back' as he calls it and going unnoticed. Although his definition of 'working' can differ from most other people's. If left unchecked, he can spend hours idling, reading a book, sleeping, or just doing nothing at all. He loves hot drinks, especially coffee and generally dislikes the cold. He habitually wears a heavy coat, no matter the weather.
As a person, he is very logic-driven and self focused. He doesn't extend trust easily, nor does he expect it in turn. He looks out for himself first and foremost. Still, he isn't a heartless person, nor a coward. Just like his appearance, his personality makes people underestimate him. He seems like a airheaded bumbling fool at times, and it's not entirely an act.
Skills:
En was gifted with an extraordinary mind, which was further trained by some of the finest scholars in Roshnad. Despite his youth, his academic knowledge covers a broad array of subjects, such as medicine, astrology, meteorology, herbology, biology, chemestry ect. (However, this is academic knowledge and is no master in any one of these.)
His other gift is a great affinity with the magic arts. He posses innate magic, unlike others who require an outside power or certain rituals. However, despite Roshnad's vast array of scholars and scholarly knowledge, there was only so much he could learn with much knowledge of the Art being lost. His dream is to find a teacher and become a great wizard.
--Details vague, need more information--
He can hold his own with a staff in hand to hand combat. Because the world is a dangerous place, and he can't always rely on magic in a pinch, he trains his body and learned to fight with a staff.
(what makes your character extraordinary?)
Equipment:
Curious Staff: A long, black stick of some unknown material, possibly some kind of wood. It's sturdy and durable and makes a nice traveling aid or weapon. The scholars believed it held some kind of magic, but what they where never able to find out, all they could say for certain is that it is defiantly enchanted. En 'borrowed' his for his journey and replaced it with a credible fake. They don't know it's missing yet...probably.
(GM info: It is a staff of some ancient wizard who specialized in controlling weather, created as a focus for his magic. Using it with sufficient power, a caster can conjure up and control weather. However, this will require practice and careful aim, because the conjured up weather is can still be dangerous to the caster and who or what ever might be nearby.)
A large knapsack full of useful and seemingly useless things, including ink, chalk, paper, books, unusual rocks, rings, carvings, herbs and so on. Most of these things are intended for use in rituals and spells.
(GM note: These would be all common and easily obtainable things, so he isn't pulling out a MacGuffin)
Bio:
En was a young boy when his magic began to manifest. In the place where he was born, superstition ran deep as the snow drifts that never fully thawed high in Roshadian mountains. Without the knowledge to properly harness his burgeoning talent, it would build up, like pressure behind a dam until it would burst forth to cause random unnatural phenomena. At first, his family was afraid but willing to accept him. But when their secret was revealed, the people of his village feared him. Hysteria and fear spread like wildfire. They called him cursed, a monster, unnatural, and worse. His family, unable to but up with the pressure, disowned him, even removing his name from the family cloak. They drove him out into the cold and bitter winter. But as one last mercy, some of his family who were sympathetic gave him supplies and directions to the next closest village. But he never made it.
He was caught in snowstorm and lost all sense of direction. But some fortune smiled on him. When it passed, he was found face-down in the snow, nearly dead, by some strangers. They took him a hospital in the nearest city where he spent several weeks in recovery. During this time, his magical talent was discovered. But instead of being reviled, it, and he, were held in awe. He was tested by the priesthood and he was also found to have an excellent mind. The priesthood also said that his arrive was foretold by the stars and that he was destined for great things, although the truth of this was in doubt. Nevertheless, these combined made him something of a celebrity, and he was eventually given the honor of joining the library harem of the capital, Qualoktl, to be groomed for the chance to become the next great Thinker of the capital, or at the very least a high ranking member of the government.
For the next several years, he was trained and tutored nearly constantly on all manner of subjects deemed necessary. In what little spare time he had, he loved exploring the great Library and reading whatever caught his interest. He thrived here, happy to simply learn. He also discarded the name he was given at birth and named himself after something out of an old legend. As time went on he found himself disappointed with what was little was known about magic. His thirst for knowledge grew and he found himself dreading the idea of becoming the Thinker. He hated the idea of having all that responsibility. He wanted magic, not to rule. But at the same time, he didn't want to burn bridges if something didn't work out. So he devised a plan.
He convinced the current Thinker that it would be a good idea for the Thinkers-in-training to have personal knowledge of the kingdoms beyond Roshad, so why not arrange a visit to foreign lands? He agreed, so En, along with other members of the harem were taken on a journey. The night before they left, En "borrowed" a magic staff and hid it, along with other preparations. And then he waited. Biding his time, waiting for the chance to slip away. At last, the opportunity came, and with some regret, he left that life behind. When he heard about a sorcerer, a true sorcerer, he couldn't help but be intrigued. Could he find the knowledge he had been seeking there? Oh, and insane power-mad gods tend to make terrible neighbors. So maybe he should be stopped or something.
<Snipped quote by Crimson Raven>
Well, we were hoping for a more ritualistic approach rather than flick of the wrist fire balls. In better terms, magic requires time and ingredients, rather than a few well spoken words. We can work together on really defining magic, maybe make premade spells for on the fly activation. Does this make sense?
Sure, makes sense. I'll do a little more character creation and then get back to you on it.
I'm considering a magic-based character, to be honest I tend to gravitate toward magic in general. So, this person would be that 1 in 10000 with innate magical talent.
But first, I'd like to know a little more about how you imagine magic working in this setting. So far it's pretty open ended.
But first, I'd like to know a little more about how you imagine magic working in this setting. So far it's pretty open ended.
In
Phosphoros - Heroic Fantasy for fans of Conan, Greek myth and Antiquity
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
I have to second @Monkeypants wish for plot related stuff being posted here on the forums. I absolutely love that more and more RPs are using Discord to discuss ideas, but since I'm from Europe, I usually miss out on 90% of the interesting conversations; leaving me with waking up to 50+ messages that I would've loved to have taken part in, but missed because biology is making me sleep.
what is this 'sleep'?
In
Phosphoros - Heroic Fantasy for fans of Conan, Greek myth and Antiquity
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Yeah
I'm interested. A nice, pleasant dark and gritty fantasy seems like a great change of pace.
I'm interested. A nice, pleasant dark and gritty fantasy seems like a great change of pace.
<Snipped quote by Crimson Raven>
Short of a rule that outright bans non-original faceclaims, I'd say the ones who pay for a faceclaim for the sake of this contest or spend the effort drawing a decent one probably deserve that advantage if present.
Is there a rule against using an image that isn't one you made or paid for? Is it fine so long as you credit the original artist/wherever it came from?
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