• Last Seen: 2 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: Holmishire
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 718 (0.18 / day)
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  • Username history
    1. Holmishire 11 yrs ago

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Bio

A writer, artist, animator, worldbuilder. In short, jack of all trades, master of some.

For the most part, I've retired from roleplaying. For quite a long time, what kept me tied to RPG was the Spam community—but even that I have distanced myself from. Now, my focus is on the writing contests.

I consistently try to write reviews for RPGC, and I consistently enter the Twelve Labours.

First labour; world of Archipelago, Jack.
Challenge: an unwelcome death.
For next entry: characterization.

Second labour; world of Uberpowered, Émile.
Challenge: an unfortunate fortune.
For next entry: pacing.

Third labour; world of Cinderlore, Caerys.
Challenge: an unforgiving ambition.
For next entry: proofreading.

Fourth labour; world of Supers, Joshua.
Challenge: an uncompromising betrayal.
For next entry: development.

Fifth labour; world of Mutamorphis, Olrich.
Challenge: an unrepressed motive.
For next entry: development, dammit.

Sixth labour; world of Mythos, Melas.
Challenge: an untenable alliance.
For next entry: dénouement.

Seventh labour; world of Hatemongers, Talahn.
Challenge: an unbearable sacrifice.
For next entry: cast utilization.

Eigth labour; world of Mythica, Céline.
Challenge: an unwinnable challenge.
For next entry: plot cohesion.

Ninth labour; world of Nardja, Albiorn.
Challenge: an unknowing accomplice.
For next entry: narrative set-up.

Tenth labour; world of Magestones, Ariana.
Challenge: an unwilling inspiration.
For next entry: narrative set-up, dammit.

Most Recent Posts

Ariett felt the kinetic force of the silvery spines that stabbed straight through the backpack's right strap and brushed up and over her shoulder as she fell. The pain was both immediate and exquisite, as though a branding iron had been pressed to her flesh. The back of her right shoulder was coated in a layer of shining metal that instantly hardened - but, thankfully, spread no more than an inch before stopping. The pain subsided to a smouldering, heavy anguish as to the surrounding and underlying dermal tissue died while muscle and nerves began crying out, trying to move skin affixed to unmoving metal. The backpack had likewise sustained similar damage, its severed right strap being fully coated in metal along both of its lengths, which had of also thankfully stopped spreading.


The small woman did not scream, or cry, or even groan as the metal seared itself across her shoulder blade—instead, she lay on the cobblestone in choked silence as the formerly deadly material solidified.

Once the pain subsided to 'merely' a piercing ache, she tensed her muscles in order to push herself off the ground—and then screamed as her skin tore at the edges of the metal. Still, she managed to unsling the backpack and roll over so as to face the sky. Her right arm was stiff, still able to move but weakened by the damaged nerves in her shoulder, so she raised her left hand instead to gingerly touch the metal plating on her back.

She felt very cold.

When her hand returned to her vision without metal spreading along her fingertips, she sighed and relaxed—only momentarily, as the pain quickly tensed up her muscles once more.

Finally, she pushed herself up with her good hand and rose unsteadily to her feet. Dragging her backpack along the ground with her right hand, she winced and clutched her shoulder with her left, slowly turning to face the wreckage of the car. There was nothing left to see of the driver—whether he had been sliced to pieces or consumed by the molten metal, she knew not. What she did do, however, was take a moment to acknowledge the dead, and to look over the status of the car.
Also, time for a vote. @Bright_Ops@Cruallassar@Doc Doctor@Holmishire@mdk@PlatinumSkink@WiseDragonGirl

Shall I continue to reproduce errors en-mass as I have been?

Or, alternatively: Should I just hold every error you make in reserve, and tactically deploy them whenever I personally see fit in order to obfuscate the narrative and create ambiguity where it is most inconvenient? The rule-of-two would still be in effect.


Alternatively.
Ariett felt her grip on the phone loosening, one hand dropping from her ear to her side while the other lifted to rest upon her forehead.

She should have been helping—stopping the combatants, saving the girl, anything—but instead she stood in shock, trying to make sense of the chaos about her. Technology beyond her understanding and supernatural abilities beyond her capacity to believe were being bandied about as if no more unusual than the aesthetic relic that was this town. What little grasp she had on reality began to slip from her fingers…

And then the world shifted, and the phone clacked against the ground.

She glanced behind her and saw the car explode in a multitude of metallic spears. Pulling her heavy backpack up so that it would cover the back of her torso and head both, Ariett dived forward. She hit the ground hard, taking the blunt of the force on her elbows and forearm as she skid forward a few feet.
i've screwed up
If anyone dies from this I will definitely be offering refunds.

@Terminal, am I still allowed to post now, or would you prefer I wait until after the punishment takes effect?
I think I'm going to try something and see what Terminal responds with. I have a few lives to spare. Of course, if anyone has a brilliant fool-proof idea to save me, I'm not going to object to that either, but otherwise, I plan on doing one hell of a wager that'll definitely kill me. Haha.


I could use the blanket in my pack to try and pull the metal-ing cloak off you without touching it myself—but that would hardly be a foolproof plan.
@PlatinumSkink, if you'd rather take the window with Luca and Andy, just state as much in your post and Ariett will let you you go. ;)
@PlatinumSkink

"A shooting, three dead." As she responded to the woman on the phone, she pushed herself off the floor. With the grinding noise coming from the back of the vehicle, she agreed with the other passengers that it was time to get out. As the doctor was leading one boy out the window, that should leave just her and the teen girl. One hand still holding the phone to her ear, she forcefully grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her towards the open door. She didn't know how much more time they had, but if necessary, she was ready to throw the girl out ahead of her.

She figured she could afford to be a little rude, given the circumstances.
Having dropped the bottle at the sound of gunshots, Ariett dropped to the floor and promptly swore. Knowing nothing of the man, she couldn't tell if he was an off-duty governmental officer or just a dangerous criminal. Either way, he appeared to be killing without cause and as far as she was concerned that made him just as dangerous to the surviving passengers of the vehicle as to their supposed aggressors outside.

She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed emergency services, hoping that there would be proper reception in this messed-up town.
@Terminal

Post where?


Right here.
Slumped in her seat to avoid as best she could breathing in the blues gases flooding to the ceiling, Ariett fiddled with one of the many bottles made available in the limousine. This one in particular was quite round, with a simple cork and adorned with what appeared to be a collection of runic bandages. She glanced over at those who had spoken up, and then turned to look at the apparent knight—where her gaze lingered longer than on the others—before turning back to idly fiddle with bottle.

"You two look awfully young to be driving around without knowing where you're going." Without lifting her gaze, she addressed the knight, her tone low and indicating that she only half expected a response. "They yours?"
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