Same.
Ostarion Member
The Skeleton King
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 416 (0.10 / day)
- VMs: 3
-
Username history
- Ostarion 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
BECAUSE I AM SWITCHING ACCOUNTS TO POKE, THIS ACCOUNT WILL NOW SERVE AS A MEMORIAL TO THE ONLY KING THAT MATTERS.
Ostarion, the Skeleton King "Bone is strongest where it's mended."
The victim of a longevity spell that backfired, the Skeleton King Ostarion has built an empire from the bones of his enemies. He lives only to extend his reach, for as long as he is perpetually building and adding to his domain he cannot die. The walls of his palace are formed of fired bone; the streets are paved with bones of every sort of creature and every enemy; and even the wood and other natural features of his land have been swept away and replaced with replicas formed of bone. From the Ivory Forest to Ostarion's towering Throne of Bone, nothing happens in the Empire of Bones without the full knowledge of its Skeleton King.
Most Recent Posts
<Snipped quote by Satoshi Kyou>
One can easily beat transformer because a duelists arm is their strongest muscle. (because draw practice...)
You raise a good point.
But what if I were to tell you that Transformer was actually a...
professional...
wait for it...
A Professional Duelist.
After the winner's names were called, the uninterested teacher began calling the losers down. Transformer managed to grab the remaining card packs and tore every single pack open at the same time. The same time.
Love it.
Hell, you could go full-on finger guns and just flick people in the forehead.
The duel's reaching it's climax because of Reckless Greed, either Yin and Floyd manage to win in the next turn or two or the lack of draw proves to be their undoing and we can finally make a comeback after being beaten down for so long.
The duel's reaching it's climax
climax
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Deck Masters when?
Welp. First post for the Dark Guild job is up. Hopefully I'll be able to make/there'll be a list of Mages who're taking the job. I'll get to work to that tomorrow.
Also, I should probably note that I'm willing to up the cap to 4, or even 5 Mages. It would make sense from a story standpoint, and it would help get more people involved in the arc.
Also, I should probably note that I'm willing to up the cap to 4, or even 5 Mages. It would make sense from a story standpoint, and it would help get more people involved in the arc.
Eastcliff. The small fishing village within Callmigh Bluff. The town was inconsequential. It felt distant, as though it should be removed from the common troubles and worries found in the rest of Fiore. The idea of extravagance didn't really exist here; the houses were simple and homely, mainly composed of oak from the Backwoods, save for the roofs of the houses, which were covered with straw. The size of the houses were just as mundane, many of the houses only contained a single, medium-sized room. The one exception to this was the village hall. It was called that, but was really more of a home for the village leader and his family. The building itself juxtaposed the lesser-houses by being somewhat large. It shared the same design, but it was the size of at least three of the regular houses, yet still managing to maintain a level of modesty in a town that was already swamped with it. Overall, Eastcliff had the look of a humble and tranquil village.
But the look of the village belied its current predicament. It wasn't quite the tranquil fishing village it was supposed to be. Not right now, anyway. The atmosphere was that of a sombre one. They had been "attacked" per say. Well, attacked wasn't really the right word. More like, "bullied," or "tormented."
Satyr Horn had decided to strike them yet again, it was only an hour ago. It was the same routine as always. They would arrive in the town demanding payment, in return for protection... from them. It was your typical shakedown of the helpless. Satyr Horn were unskilled. Their strongest member - the Guild Master - was only around the level of a low B-class. They would easily be trampled by even a high B-Class, and invariably squashed by an S-Class Mage without them even acknowledging that they had an opponent. Satyr Horn's power stemmed from several, lesser factors. They were unskilled with Magic, but that was irrelevant; weak and unskilled Magic beats no Magic. Eastcliff had no Mages to speak of. They were mild-mannered, and didn't have the resources to learn Magic regardless. They had no response to Satyr Horn's magical capabilities. The Guild themselves were also good at intimidation; they would talk big, and act big in the face of an adversary, simultaneously and internally praying that their enemy would fall for their bluff. It worked on Eastcliff rather well, but probably wouldn't work against anyone else.
The village leader, Maine, sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the village hall, staring at the sky. He was a short, old and frail man, but with great resolve which contrasted his appearance. He had tired, but determined eyes, and a surplus of facial hair which stretched down to reach his chest. Most notably, he wore a stereotypical blue wizard hat, giving him the appearance of a wizened Mage. Of course, he was no such thing. The man was waiting for the wizards to arrive. He had sent a request only a few days ago, asking for Mages that weren't S-Class. He wanted the bare minimum, in a sense. He didn't want to bother the S-Class Mages with what he felt as a menial problem in comparison to what S-Class members must do for jobs.
Maine swung gently in his chair, awaiting the arrival of the Mages.
Northeast from Eastcliff was the Guild Hall of Satyr Horn. It wasn't exactly close to the fishing village; he distance between the two was far enough that no villager would dare make the journey, but at the same time it was close enough that Satyr Horn was always willing to make the trek if it meant getting a few more Jewels to spend on whatever they pleased. Despite being called a Guild Hall, it wasn't really so. An encampment would be a much better term. The main hideout of Satyr Horn could be found behind the Backwoods, next to a small mountain. It was a medium-sized cave which didn't stretch too deep inside of the mountain itself. The cave was more circular in terms of interior, and was around the size of one of Eastcliff's houses, and lit by several torches dotted around the cavern walls. The entrance of the cave was quite small, being covered by two wooden doors. The exterior of the cave was the surrounding encampment. There were several makeshift structures formed with the same Backwoods wood as Eastcliff's own buildings, and a large fence surrounded the entirety of the settlement, complete with a wooden gate to stop intruders. Many of the Satyr Horn members were currently celebrating at their most recent haul of a surprising 40,000 Jewels. From a greater perspective, it wasn't much, but it was enough that it made the Guild want to celebrate and laugh about their accomplishment. The party took place within the cave, while some members stood as watchmen and guards in the exterior encampment.
In the middle of the celebration was the Guild Master, Armin Fracas. He had stayed out of becoming inebriated with drinks, and was instead recounting what had happened in their most recent haul to his intoxicated Guild.
"It was friggin' easy, man!" He announced to the other, lesser-Mages.
"Them tossers over in Eastcliff can't do nuffink t'us."
Armin continued to talk about the haul. He even repeated the story a few times to get extra laughs out of his guildmates. The party had continued for around an hour, before there were loud yells and crashes coming from outside. Moments later, a shadow approached the cave's door, subsequently destroying it with a single punch. Light rays from the outside world shined on the back of the intruder, and in the faces of the members of Satyr Horn. Behind the figure standing at the door, it was possible to see the remnants of the encampment. The Guild Members who were outside and standing watch had been defeated, but not killed. There were several other figures outside, tying up the unconscious members with rope in different ways. Some were bound entirely, while others were only bound with hands behind their backs. These figures had similar uniforms, a portion of them had something akin to light armour, while the rest were draped in cloth, the common features among them being their blue colour, and concealed faces. More importantly, there were no signs of Magic usage outside, or on the figure at the doorway; the person had done this with sheer brute force alone. The Satyr Horn members were speechless. It didn't make sense for a simple brawler to defeat Mages. It was nonsensical and illogical.
But it was also terrifying.
Armin was the first to speak to the figure after the moment of weighted silence. He stumbled his sentence as it came out.
"Oi! W-what do you think you are?"
The doorway figure looked up at the ceiling of the cave.
"...Tired."
But the look of the village belied its current predicament. It wasn't quite the tranquil fishing village it was supposed to be. Not right now, anyway. The atmosphere was that of a sombre one. They had been "attacked" per say. Well, attacked wasn't really the right word. More like, "bullied," or "tormented."
Satyr Horn had decided to strike them yet again, it was only an hour ago. It was the same routine as always. They would arrive in the town demanding payment, in return for protection... from them. It was your typical shakedown of the helpless. Satyr Horn were unskilled. Their strongest member - the Guild Master - was only around the level of a low B-class. They would easily be trampled by even a high B-Class, and invariably squashed by an S-Class Mage without them even acknowledging that they had an opponent. Satyr Horn's power stemmed from several, lesser factors. They were unskilled with Magic, but that was irrelevant; weak and unskilled Magic beats no Magic. Eastcliff had no Mages to speak of. They were mild-mannered, and didn't have the resources to learn Magic regardless. They had no response to Satyr Horn's magical capabilities. The Guild themselves were also good at intimidation; they would talk big, and act big in the face of an adversary, simultaneously and internally praying that their enemy would fall for their bluff. It worked on Eastcliff rather well, but probably wouldn't work against anyone else.
The village leader, Maine, sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the village hall, staring at the sky. He was a short, old and frail man, but with great resolve which contrasted his appearance. He had tired, but determined eyes, and a surplus of facial hair which stretched down to reach his chest. Most notably, he wore a stereotypical blue wizard hat, giving him the appearance of a wizened Mage. Of course, he was no such thing. The man was waiting for the wizards to arrive. He had sent a request only a few days ago, asking for Mages that weren't S-Class. He wanted the bare minimum, in a sense. He didn't want to bother the S-Class Mages with what he felt as a menial problem in comparison to what S-Class members must do for jobs.
Maine swung gently in his chair, awaiting the arrival of the Mages.
Satyr Horn Guild Hall
Northeast from Eastcliff was the Guild Hall of Satyr Horn. It wasn't exactly close to the fishing village; he distance between the two was far enough that no villager would dare make the journey, but at the same time it was close enough that Satyr Horn was always willing to make the trek if it meant getting a few more Jewels to spend on whatever they pleased. Despite being called a Guild Hall, it wasn't really so. An encampment would be a much better term. The main hideout of Satyr Horn could be found behind the Backwoods, next to a small mountain. It was a medium-sized cave which didn't stretch too deep inside of the mountain itself. The cave was more circular in terms of interior, and was around the size of one of Eastcliff's houses, and lit by several torches dotted around the cavern walls. The entrance of the cave was quite small, being covered by two wooden doors. The exterior of the cave was the surrounding encampment. There were several makeshift structures formed with the same Backwoods wood as Eastcliff's own buildings, and a large fence surrounded the entirety of the settlement, complete with a wooden gate to stop intruders. Many of the Satyr Horn members were currently celebrating at their most recent haul of a surprising 40,000 Jewels. From a greater perspective, it wasn't much, but it was enough that it made the Guild want to celebrate and laugh about their accomplishment. The party took place within the cave, while some members stood as watchmen and guards in the exterior encampment.
In the middle of the celebration was the Guild Master, Armin Fracas. He had stayed out of becoming inebriated with drinks, and was instead recounting what had happened in their most recent haul to his intoxicated Guild.
"It was friggin' easy, man!" He announced to the other, lesser-Mages.
"Them tossers over in Eastcliff can't do nuffink t'us."
Armin continued to talk about the haul. He even repeated the story a few times to get extra laughs out of his guildmates. The party had continued for around an hour, before there were loud yells and crashes coming from outside. Moments later, a shadow approached the cave's door, subsequently destroying it with a single punch. Light rays from the outside world shined on the back of the intruder, and in the faces of the members of Satyr Horn. Behind the figure standing at the door, it was possible to see the remnants of the encampment. The Guild Members who were outside and standing watch had been defeated, but not killed. There were several other figures outside, tying up the unconscious members with rope in different ways. Some were bound entirely, while others were only bound with hands behind their backs. These figures had similar uniforms, a portion of them had something akin to light armour, while the rest were draped in cloth, the common features among them being their blue colour, and concealed faces. More importantly, there were no signs of Magic usage outside, or on the figure at the doorway; the person had done this with sheer brute force alone. The Satyr Horn members were speechless. It didn't make sense for a simple brawler to defeat Mages. It was nonsensical and illogical.
But it was also terrifying.
Armin was the first to speak to the figure after the moment of weighted silence. He stumbled his sentence as it came out.
"Oi! W-what do you think you are?"
The doorway figure looked up at the ceiling of the cave.
"...Tired."
So many people running around outside the tavern... how big is this road that nobody is getting hit by accident due to somebody else's fight? While everybody is running about there is just a man who is literally a lightning bolt right now staring down two Marine Lieutenants. It sounds like quite the town if this is what they have to deal with.
Just an average Tuesday in the Town of Contradiction.
Countless
"They are exploding the town and ships. We are on an island. We do not hide or we are trapped. We have no place to run. You and your gun should come with us."
"If you insist."
Even if Countless was somewhat unfazed by the prospect of the attacking Marines, he still had to "escape." After all, he didn't want to be around for the destruction of the entire town. On the bright side, this situation tied in with the whole idea of him getting a form of travel. It was around this time that Leader-Lady (the current name which Countless had for Brenda) was talking about building a ship. Countless had sort of missed the whole point of the message, aside from the fact that ships were being built; it tied into his mission to leave the island though, assuming a ship was actually going to be built.
Pulling out his Buster Bazooka from... somewhere... Countless began to open its compartment. He then dug through his pocket, and retrieved a Jet Dial to use with the Bazooka. As he followed Brenda outside of the tavern, he began to fit the Bazooka with the Jet Dial.
Just as he had seen before, there were a ton of Marines outside. They were waving their guns around threatening to shoot people. It was rude. More than rude, probably terrifying for some of the people in question, but Countless didn't seem to quite capture the gravity of the whole ordeal for the more timid participants of the carnage. The doctor in particular seemed worried, and Countless was sure to give him words of encouragement.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure that you're not filled with bullet holes yet."
That last part sounded somewhat ominous. It was a spur of the moment thing to say. Of course, Countless meant nothing by it, but it was almost certain to be taken the wrong way.
Planting his feet onto the ground, Countless hoisted the Buster Bazooka over his shoulder, aiming toward a portion of the Marines ahead, albeit unenthusiastically. He was having a pragmatic thought at this time; he should take one of their guns after this.
"...Jet Bust—I mean, JET BUSTER!" He shouted, replacing his less-enthusiastic voice with one of a much more heightened level. A powerful gust of wind was released from the bazooka, lifting some of the weaker and lighter Marines off of their feet entirely, and making some of the stronger ones stumble; it left them open to the attacks of anyone else who wished to join in.
"...How was that?"
© 2007-2024