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Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current Do not kill the part of you that is cringe. Kill the part that cringes.
5 likes
1 yr ago
Sad to say I'm currently experiencing Writer's Block. Luckily I learned Writer's Kung Fu and I can chop the block in half with my hands like Bruce Lee
8 likes
1 yr ago
Why is the sun like bread? It rises in the yeast, and sets in the waist. Haha! Isn't that so cute? Join my RP or more puns will come.
8 likes
1 yr ago
What's the difference between a Hollywood actor and a piece of driftwood? One is Justin Timberlake. The other is timber, just in a lake. Hahathisiswhati'mdoinginsteadofwriting
4 likes
4 yrs ago
That moment when losing a character in a rougelike makes you want to shed tears. No backup. It's gone.
4 likes

Bio

Current RP I want you to join: roleplayerguild.com/topics/191461-car…

Hey y'all. I've been at this for about 12 years, and I've played a lot of kinds of RP. I like fantasy and sci-fi the most, just because they give me the most to worldbuild with, but I'm cool with almost anything. I just like writing.

Most Recent Posts

Acerbus


The Sacrosanct Orator, the leader of Acerbus politically and spiritually, walks through stone halls, carrying with him the traditions and faith of his people, and a bowl full of blood. His echoing steps on that gray floor are like mythology: old, slow, laden with meaning. The bowl shakes in his decrepit hand, and a beautiful young aide leads him by the other. She knows not to smile at him. She knows not to make any expression at all. He does not look at her: he looks ahead- in as much as he can still see at all- towards the huge double-doors.

When the word of the Gateway's opening was heard, charismatic young revelators, wise fidels in their formal postures and mystical seers were quickly recruited from across the Twilight Band. It didn't take long at all. Thousands begged for this opportunity, even without being asked, and the Temple Gathering's clerks picked whomever appeared to be the best candidates freely. Wasn't this what so many of them had wished all their lives for? The forty or so who were chosen stand now in the inner chamber of one of the most important temples on Acerbus, dressed in red robes, their faces uncovered. They try not to whisper to one another. It helps that in a group this small, from across all the world, none of them know one another. A majority of them only know the Orator from media. As the aide opens the doors with a bit of struggle, their gaze moves from her to him. He stares back half-blindly as he descends down to them in trembles.

The chosen remind themselves that they are about to become missionaries for Revelationism. They contain their imagination, as they try not to daydream about the alien worlds and other colonies where they are about to be sent to spread their faith. They are each feeling the same thing. Among them, there are some from powerful families or islands that could not be excluded. There are some others who are politically cunning social-climbers who, before this opportunity came, might have been in pursuit of a seat at the Temple Gathering. And there are the true believers, a few with dangerous bright eyes, whose faith burns so much like fire they become beloved or hated by everyone who meets them.

The Sacrosanct Orator is nothing like any of them.

Invited theocrats, family members of those chosen, and the press watch from a high balcony as he moves down below with ritual in every creaking, ancient joint. He dips his hand into the bowl, slow, letting it run down and soak into the sleeve of his robe and drip onto the floor with a pit-pat-patter. The soon-to-be missionaries feel his wrinkled fingertip as he paints a circular symbol on their foreheads: two snakes biting each other's tails, with a third dividing between them.

The Orator, despite his title, says nothing. Revelationism is a religion of actions and not words. The missionaries watch him turn away from them, with his black and starkly white robe trailing on the floor. He halts suddenly for a moment and has a bad coughing fit. The aide forces herself not to react. The Orator leaves their sight still gagging and clearing his throat. More than one of the new missionaries have tears running down their faces. Soon they will travel across the cosmos, finding their long-lost brethren. Their teardrops fall and mingle with blood on the floor.

) ---(**) || (**)--- (


Diplomatic Missionary: Revelator Andrea Federus
Commodore: Ava Jones
Destination: Kamenymir (@Eldritch Puppy)


Andrea stands with his arms crossed, an alcoholic drink in his hand and a disapproving, skeptical scowl on his face. This is not unusual- it's his typical bearing. He wears it now because he's just gone through the Gateway and arrived at a new star system, and discovered that space on the other side looks essentially the same as space viewed from Acerbus. Somehow this feels like a fake-out. He expected the world to be a little different countless lightyears away. But on a lower and more spiritual level, it is deeply appropriate. Of course, he thinks to himself. It is all the same everywhere. 'There's nothing new under starlight.' I bet the people are just the same, too. He'd worked harder than he liked to make sure he was one of those chosen to become missionaries to other colonies of Earth still alive, to take part in the Orator's weird little ritual and get himself assigned. A part of him revolted at it, but since the day his knees had hit that temple floor when the Gateway tore itself into the sky, a unnamable feeling had eaten away at him. He had to see.

They vessel he's been placed aboard to play diplomat has chosen a random destination. Nobody knew or could reasonably guess what the other side would hold- it was a blind shot in the dark of space. This this too feels cheap to Andrea, and also strangely appropriate. The Revelator had been asked to pray for their vessels to emerge where the gods willed. He refused. He did not want the gods in the way.

It seems that the Gateway does not always deposit you directly at the opposite end. The retrofitted, forty year old frigate- the first of its kind ever created by Acerbians, now repurposed and furnished for space travel for the wealthy and powerful- and its two destroyer escorts hover now in space like ships on a dead sea, trying to orient themselves with no context. At last the Commodore who commands the escorts forces Andrea, citing security concerns, to momentarily stop scowling and drinking and do his job. Half against his will, he records a message, which is translated by the shipboard AI into various languages and broadcasted out to the new system they've found themselves in:

"Hail. I am Revelator Andrea Federus, a diplomat-missionary from the Esoteric Temple of Acerbus. We have come from across the Gateway in search of other colonies from before the Fall of Earth. We extend our hand out peacefully to make formal contact, and inquire as to how our fellow man has fared these five centuries, if we are welcome. Thank you."

) ---(**) || (**)--- (


Diplomatic Missionary: Blessed Johannes Daviso, a fidel devoted to the Bearer
Commodore: Davide Ferrarius
Destination: Interrupted by the arrival of the Yellow Horde (@Enigmatik)


Wherever these missionaries were going to go, they're not headed that way anymore.

They are in a retrofitted worker transport vessel, the Wine of Dionysus: a personal project originally created by a wealthy young man who wanted to turn it into his own space yacht, a burgeoning trend on Acerbus that doesn't quite have an industry yet. The shipwrights did a good job, if a plainly improvisational one. Ship design itself is an industry less than eighty years old on Acerbus, younger than the Sacrosanct Orator, and Acerbian ships tend to be ugly. It serves just well enough for this purpose. It is shiny and new, it is small but rich, and inside it is as comfortable as Acerbian interior design can be.

The lead missionary, Blessed Johannes, is submerged deep in the ship's pool in meditation when he is forcefully awoken by a grating, skin-crawling klaxon. The report, delivered to him breathlessly by a nervous crewman before Johannes' even has his beloved veil back on, is that a large fleet of vessels similar to those who identified themselves as a 'Red Horde' (whatever that means- Acerbians were struggling immensely with understanding that message) in Sol has appeared in Acerbian space. They had provided no prior communication to Acerbus. The word "invasion" is flashed around, but it does not stick- they are making no hostile action. Johannes is shown a captured image of the newcomers. The two destroyer escorts flanking the Wine of Dionysus suddenly feel small.

An hour later, Commodore Ferrarius is watching Blessed Johannes closely and uneasily as he drafts a greeting message. After revisions and suggestions by the other missionaries under him, and a read-over by the commodore who frowned down his long nose at it but offered no comments, Johannes records (and the shipboard AI translates):

"Hail. This is Blessed Johannes Daviso speaking. I represent the Esoteric Temple of Acerbus, the people of our world, and our faith in the truths of the Cosmic Mothers who are sang of in the Sacrosanct Songbook. The Temple's jurisdiction includes the whole system of Frigus, where you have entered, including both asteroid belts, the gas giant worlds and the planet of Acerbus itself. I am a missionary and a diplomat appointed to reach through the opened Gateway peacefully to other children of Earth, to make formal contact, or to greet those who have come to us- as in this case. I would like to inquire as to your intentions. Am I speaking to the Red Horde?"

) ---(**) || (**)--- (


Diplomatic Missionary: Beatrice Kleus, a Seer
Commodore: Blaise Mancini
Destination: Unfortunately, the Nameless' System (@Sep)


Beatrice's visions are troubling her. The visions of an Acerbian, which they have instead of the "dreams" and "sleep" that their ancestors had, are rarely peaceful- but Beatrice's have been like a fire shut up inside her skull for a week. Her nerves have rattled her and made her daily meditations into an extended nightmare, which haunts her with images she cannot understand. She has closed her eyes and seen visions of lava, and snakes with gouged-out eyes slithering across the stars, and she is always visited by a deformed old woman who shouts "Dismember them, skin them, or they'll find you out!" She has not yet met a single foreigner, yet she regrets becoming a missionary. Standing on the bridge of a hastily redecorated transport vessel, flanked by brutal-looking twin destroyer escorts, her hands tremble. They started to shake when she crossed the Gateway. Looking at the viewscreen now, she tries to remind herself that she is educated and qualified, experienced in religion and the politics of religion, and this job was offered to her for a reason. She is capable.

She reassures herself that she could speak competently with any other human. If only she could find them. They exited the Gateway and, wherever it has thrown them, all that is in visual range is an odd cluster of what they thought might be asteroids. Beatrice immediately felt (sensed is the word she would use) that there was something strange about it. She is a mystic, not an astrophysicist, but these are not arranged at all like the belt in Frigus. She knows they aren't.

Her suspicions are confirmed when Blaise tells her that what they believed to be asteroids are generating heat. Her trembling hands do not like that news. She remembers the deformed woman in her visions. Were the gods telling her to strike first at whatever is lurking in those maybe-asteroids? But she can't, it isn't her way. If they are generating heat, and if this truly is a system where another Earth colony had long ago been sent, they could be warm only because of some devices put into them by the other colonists.

After only a brief period of internal and external debate, Beatrice lifts her hands up towards the stars and allows the gods to guide her as she says out into this strange system (and as the AI translates):

"Hail! I am Beatrice Kleus, a Seer from the far, far away planet of Acerbus. With the old portal between the stars miraculously reopened by the will of the gods, my people have sent me here to find others such as ourselves out in the cosmos. If you can hear my voice, fellow born of Earth- we have come to make contact with you once again. Let us meet face to face and speak of all that has happened."
@Eldritch Puppy

The KDD always has a unique vibe. Like a well-meaning bazooka.

Obviously they’re approved, but it does feel like there's a plothole in your history. Specifically, how would the KDD not detect or realize that the Shards are from their own moon? Even if they never surveyed the system, and even if hundreds of years went by without anyone doing a study on the local moon, they have telescopes, yeah? It's a part of their night sky. Were the Shards underground, maybe? There's something similar happening with them not detecting the dangerous radiation on their planet.

Speaking as a writer, it sort of feels like you're saying the KDD wouldn't see these things for dramatic effect when they're revealed. I think a better solution would be to acknowledge that they knew about the radiation and Shards and simply didn't have the resources or ability to deal with it yet, or maybe they weren't willing to pull a xenocide until the Shards struck again, or maybe the government was not organized enough to get good weaponry in space until the Second Directorate

But that's a minor gripe in the end. Everything else is gucci. We have our slightly standoffish jocks back.




"The Earth is the cradle of humanity, but mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever.”

- Konstantin Tsiolkovsky


In the depths of space, ancient machines whir to life. A signal has been received, written in a language of code that only the Gateways know, that says: Come back. And they do. From one end of the Galaxy to the other, overlooking worlds of deep ocean or alien jungle, they come back. First with a spark, a wavering in space- and then a flash of blinding light and heat, a storm in the void, a celestial crescendo like a sun being born. And then only a steady light. Billions of lifeforms witness it. They wonder for a moment, perhaps, but then they go back to their lives, not knowing that over their heads now sits a portal to countless other worlds.



) ---(**) || (**)--- (


There is a new star in the sky, and only one man cannot see it.

That man is a revelator and, though he is a priest, he is practical. His temple is made of hard white stone, which stands out starkly in the half-darkness of this part of Acerbus, close enough to the Night that the stars shine overhead faintly. It’s a large, rich temple, politically important- he cares about that more than he does spiritual matters.

He is performing a ritual, the Third Birthing Remembrance, an overcomplicated affair which supposedly represents mankind’s journey from Earth to Acerbus. Revelator Andrea does his job dutifully, but internally he scoffs at it. His theology is the same as his mindset: grounded, skeptical, a religion with all of the fluff taken out of it.

Unlike the stereotypical revelator, Andrea is not a man of the supernatural or other flights of fancy. He scorns the sacrosanct myths the others hold to so strongly as “only metaphors,” and delights in the scandalized reactions of his fellow clergy when he tells them so. He did not choose to be a priest, he was raised in it. He would doubt the existence of Earth itself if the evidence for it wasn't so great. Everything about that old story of humans blazing across the cosmos in the wake of a dying world sounds like the kind of tale a storyteller would come up with three smokes in. He supposes it must be true, but with a suspicion that it’s all been rewritten by his more myth-minded peers.

This is ridiculous, a voice in the back of his mind complains, as he carries out the ritual. First he was burning incense and letting the smoke smudge up the open stone courtyard, now he is lifting his hands and scattering dirt on the ground. He does it all mechanically, routinely- he has done it countless times before and it is mandatory, but this time in particular he starts to sense something… off. It is a few moments, in which he stands with his hands held high, before he notices: the worshippers aren’t looking at him. This is both strange and a little upsetting. They’re leaning over to each other and whispering, they’re staring up into the sky with slack jaws and looks of awe- they’re not looking at him. He raises his arms a little higher. But the congregation does not notice, their gaze is at something over his head, in that faintly starred sky.

When he turns to look, it takes him no time at all to see it.

There’s a new light in the sky, outshining the stars. It sits right above the peak of the temple, bright and burning and reminiscent of the stories about-

“The Gateway!” someone behind him cries out, completing the thought, and the light of someone else’s device invades the holy space. “Look,” they say, fast and overexcited. “People think it’s- the Gate, the portal thing, from the stories!” It has only been a few minutes, yet the Acerbian people are already connecting the dots. But Andrea isn’t. He is staring, slack-jawed as one of the worshippers, at the burning light in the sky. And the story is flashing through his head with a weight it’s never had before. Could it be?

“Revelator! Do you know?” one of them is asking now, pulling at his shoulder. He does not answer; the words may as well be coming from a trillion miles away, from across the cosmos. “Revelator,” they say again, and now they’re saying “Revelator, are you alright?”

With a rumple of fabric and a thud on the stone, Revelator Andrea falls to his knees.

) ---(**) || (**)--- (


The Gateway is open, and only one man cannot see it.

That man is Oscaro, and he is not a priest. This is the second most important fact about him, and he has to tell it to everyone he meets. It’s because he looks like one: usually dressed in ceremonial robes, with an apparent air of spirituality and sophistication about him. He is indeed a part of the clergy, but his role is as a fidel: a specialized monk of a particular deity, who serves under the revelators, but only when that revelator’s duties connect to the fidel’s chosen deity. When they are not aiding the revelators, they live lives of contemplation, study, and service to their fellow believers.

The first most important fact about him is that he’s blind.

Completely blind, from birth. His particular condition could be cured with Acerbian medicine, and that is precisely what Oscaro’s parents wanted for him. But he refused. The law was that a child could not be “healed” of blindness until they were old enough to make that choice for themselves, and as soon as Oscaro was of age to understand his own disability and what it meant for him, he knew he wanted to remain blind his entire life. His mother, crying about it, begged him to change his mind.

But she never asked him why. She didn’t need to.

“Hallowed Oscaro,” says a woman’s voice over intercom, “the captain wishes you to know that we are approaching the Gateway. Departure in estimated two hours. He…” the voice hesitates. “He suggests you should get some rest before we reach Earth.” In his private quarters aboard the battleship, Oscaro chuckled. She’d only hesitated because he was titled Hallowed. Even military types couldn’t get over Oscaro’s special place in the clergy. Especially military types, in fact. Many times he’d noticed with amusement that they were less nervous around actual revelators.

Oscaro comms back: “Understood. They’re sure I’m the only one qualified to be our first diplomat?”

The answer came back in the affirmative, of course. Fidels, like priests, are social creatures, but they are further educated. In times past, when Acerbian technology wasn’t so reclaimed and the education system not so developed, they served as the early Temple’s only true scholars. Oscaro is more educated in history and language and politics than anyone else on this battleship, where he’s been serving as a spiritual guide only because no true priest is willing to work on a ship patrolling so far out from Acerbus.

It was the closest vessel when the Gateway opened. As such, it is the one first entering the Gateway, and Oscaro is now the one who must play diplomat if anything is still alive on the other side of it. He wonders about that. And about the other colonies, if the stories about them are true. And about- many things, so many that it sets him to repeating holy poems for peace. His goddess is the Swallower, who it is said is better worshipped by the blind than by any other humans, being called Hallowed once they embrace her, and who it is said offers the peace of oblivion to those who understand her.

He slipped into visions at his desk reciting poems about her. When he awakes, the Acerbian battleship has passed through the Gateway. They have arrived safely in Sol, not far from the Moon, not far at all from Earth. Earth! The long abandoned womb of humanity. The crew is excitable, amazed, ecstatic, all the words. They are in shock. They are gazing at the viewscreens and speaking longingly about their long-lost homeworld, however gray and ruined and empty they say it looks now. Oscaro cannot see it. But he smiles.


Oh, I love the dwarves. Approved. I can definitely see them building things for other nations, although I wonder if they'll struggle in typical gravity?
HECK YEAH THE GATEWAYS ARE OPENIN' BAYBEEEEEE
Here comes the green bois again, this time with a tad more oomph and just a smidge more psychological horror.



Avalon is approved, obviously. Dump it in the char tab whenevers. Always glad to have a complex Even nation onboard.
@DX3214

So, reading over this sheet, I can see what you're going for on the whole and I like the general concept. We're going very "warlord" this time around ;P

But I do have some concerns. Your writing style in this sheet often lacks grammar or punctuation, and that makes it difficult to understand what you're saying. Especially during the more complicated bits, I can't really tell what you mean, and it's making me feel hesitant about approving you.

Your worldbuilding itself is fine. You've kept to Gateways themes well. Having a mythological and a non-mythological history was really smart- it's the kind of thing I wish that I'd thought of.

So I'm not rejecting your sheet, or asking for a rewrite. But still, it's difficult to read, so I think I need some assurance that you'll run your future posts through, for example, an internet grammar checker before posting IC. Something like Grammarly, maybe?

Oh, and this is a smaller issue, but-

Possibly a disaster event unleashed by the sun that caused electromagnetic storms across the entire star system. Possibly combined with AI rebellions causing a full on collapse with the sun becoming the instability oddity that it is today


I'm not fully sure what this means. Are you saying their sun has become unstable?
@SgtEasy

Approved. Monkee.

The Khanapes were one of the highlights of G1, and one of the nations I remember the most clearly from that time. It's excellent to see them again.

One small thing tho:

On the 299th Year since Landing, an opportunity came with the sudden opening of the gateway.


500th year. The timeline is bigger now- we have 5 centuries from Earth instead of 3. Also, a lot of the stuff you say immediately after this feels like it should be in your first IC post, not in your nation's history
I remember the first iteration, but I didn't have time for it. Do I dare try again?


Dare you? Well, I definitely hope so. I see you around the guild pretty often. The Lorne Administration was fun.

If it helps at all, the first iteration of Gateways was unusually fast for an NRP. It's unlikely this will be as quick, and I don't enforce a particular posting order or speed.
Omg this looks like fun! I get to create a whole new type of race and world to throw into this! Yes please


Well, your username is awesome.

And yeah! Absolutely, we're glad to have you.

@BunniesOfDoom

Feel free to hop onto the Discord


>bunnies of doom
>"hop"

Aight
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