I find it interesting that caffeine supposedly helps peeps with ADHD become more calm / focused.
2
likes
1 mo ago
A set up where a Bard lures people in and has their way with them, then lets the Assassin kill them in their sleep, and gives the bodies over to a Necromancer to make an army with...
3
likes
1 mo ago
can't wait for my friday beers 😩
3
likes
1 mo ago
@Donut Look Now I also did some work in Closed Captioning, and this is how companies shaft us now - they use AI to machine translate, then throw it at us for "proofreading" so they can pay us less.
A question: how much do regular humans know about magic? Like say, one kid who saw it - if he blabbed about it, would people believe him, or think he was making stuff up?
And can I say that there are secret underground communities of sorts that try to find wizards and keep them from revealing secrets? I feel like not all wizards would know to keep magic a secret, particularly children.
"Sure, I'm on the clock, but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun."
Full Name: Albrecht Rose
The surname sounds unusual, as he picked it himself.
Age: 27
Appearance: Albrecht stands at a relatively shorter height of 5'7'', though one wouldn't know it by the gravity of his presence. The man always seems to attract attention wherever he goes, for better or for worse. He dresses in a way that is best described as elegantly striking - detractors might call it a tad excessive, however. With fire-red hair, an icy gaze and a confident smile, without saying a word, the man immediately impresses upon strangers a strong first impression. He also appears to be unable to hide his emotions, making him a wonderful person to invite to card games after hours. And Albrecht loves being invited to anything resembling a party - all he needs is a drink in hand.
On the clock, he wears expensive suits and shirts, paired with whatever jewelry is fashionable at the time. Off the clock, however, he tends to don a more casual set of clothes, with a wide variety of styles, though decidedly more low-key than his suits.
Worldview (Personality): He believes in the power of might, and he will use it to protect what is his, and all those he holds close. He also seems to be focused on living in the present moment, and can be rather prone to making rash decisions. Despite being prone to flashes of anger or irritation, he is also equally quick to make a teasing quip here and there, as well as one of the first to try and speak to people in a group.
Position: Marketing and Sales
Magic: Elemental Magic (Fire)
Resume (Background): Albrecht grew up in an orphanage, where he was the runt for the longest time. He was often bullied and beaten into submission, causing missed meals, injuries, and a rather lonely, terrible time. It wasn't as if he'd been too cowardly to fight either - he was simply too weak at the time, and at the time, he feared he would always be weak.
Until the day his magic came and everything changed.
Of course, it had to be fire. His entire being boiled with rage, sorrow and frustration whenever he lost those fights in the yard, in the canteen, in the classroom, the sound of laughter ringing in his ears. So on his 12th miserable year of existence, when he threw a punch that didn't just hit but also burnt his foe, he couldn't control himself. The other boy was sent to the hospital, his face utterly disfigured. Ever since that day, Albrecht was reborn. All he needed was one foothold, one win, and once he got his foot on the door, he pushed as hard as he could.
Thankfully, nobody believed the bully he burned, when he tried to tell others about the fire, and when Albrecht tried to show it off, he simply did not have enough control over his magic yet to summon it at will. Eventually, he was found by one of those wizard orders who sought to find the ones who might have fallen through the cracks of society - they also made sure that those who knew Albrecht soon forgot who he was, with the help of magic.
Now, Albrecht was by no means a brilliant mind, but he was hungry, to the point of desperation. What meager opportunity for his sort seemed to be doing dirty work, and he had no choice but to roll up his sleeves and get dirty. He pushed himself, gravitating towards security work, disciplining his body and securing some semblance of control over his life. He also started to get a taste for the finer things in life, though he realized that getting caught stealing was probably going to be more trouble than it was worth. To pay for his classes and his inflating wants, he worked terrible jobs guarding some questionable employers, often dealing with people from all walks of life. It gave him a great education in the different ways people could be monsters, and soon enough, he'd learned how to fight nice, too, with a gritted smile.
One day, he'd heard through a regular employer about a particularly nasty fey attack on a group of mundane humans being averted by some formidable group of people. When pressed, the man revealed that they were affiliated with a strange company called Magicorp. The employer also pointedly told Albrecht that he wasn't good enough to get in.
The day after that, Albrecht immediately spent his last money on a one way ticket to apply to a job he wasn't even sure he would get. Thankfully, he did - but not without many persistent attempts, many of which involved setting off fire alarms.
Non-Interests (Dislikes): - Cooking - Insects - Having things taken or borrowed without permission
Other Junk (Misc.): - Albrecht seems to have a fondness for roses, given how he collects things related to them. - One of the reasons why Albrecht makes it a point to wear fine clothes during work (aside from looking and feeling good) is that it showcases his abilities - to return from a mission with his clothes intact means he managed to control his flames and subdue his target in a skillful manner... or so he claims. The simpler explanation is that he has a spare outfit he wears before returning to the office to report. - He enjoys board games, but is a sore loser.
It's been a while since I did some art, and making more happens to be a resolution I'd like to make good on.
Offering free art for your OCs or requested fan art, just make your requests in this thread. First come, first served. Though please temper your expectations, as the title says, I am not the best, but I'd like to get better.
Hi, still looking? I'm not a pro, but I'd be happy to try to do a sketch for you. Here's samples of my work, it's been a while since I've made some art and this seems like a good way to practice. https://www.deviantart.com/fightingham
"Six? I don't know when we decided to label one another--"
While he took note of her name, Orwell didn't much care whatever she called herself. The less everyone knew, the better, and she was giving information away for free. Then again, she was just a teenager. Two more of them were, and both of them looked just as - if not more - unstable than Somi did. Whatever the case, Orwell had already walked away as she continued her tirade. Did she really want to risk being the first one to experience the King's punishment? By all means, she was welcome to. At least that would answer a few questions.
The door did open to the key he was given, and as he activated the light switch, it revealed something like a kitchen. The sound of the dumbwaiter made him look back, and doing so, he realized that Five had decided to follow him, but then went back to read whatever it was on the card that Somi had just taken from the dumbwaiter.
"Player #3, rip out all of Player #4's eyelashes. Player #6, consume the blood, tooth, nail, and lashes."
Whoever the King was, he had a sick mind, Orwell decided. The order was almost surreal in its violence - who in their right minds would get a kick out of watching someone eat eyelashes? He thought of people like Corvus and wondered if this was all a part of their plan to get back at him. It wasn't impossible. Money could buy anything, even amusement like this. Perhaps they were being filmed for a snuff production, commissioned by rich bastards. Nothing was out of the question.
He stepped into the room, quickly followed by Three and Four. Three's presence irked Orwell and he wished the King would order someone to shut him - he was about eighty percent certain that Three was a him - up. He listened as his eyes roved around the room, looking for answers, or at least clues to answers. The dining table was covered with several sheets of paper - receipts, upon closer inspection, and he went over to read them silently as both Three and Four -who now identified as Ryan Watts- bickered about the details on how to fulfill the newest order. His head started to ache given the fumes from whatever was in the sink, and he started breathing slowly in an attept to take in less of the fumes.
Several details in each receipt were blacked out with a marker, and try as he might, Orwell could not read any of the hidden information even as he held them up against the light. Giving up on that attempt, he continued to read the information that remained unhidden.
There was a veterinary bill, a receipt for repairs done to a funeral home - Four identified himself as a mortician, clearly a link to him -, a medical bill for a boy with the surname Cruz - his eyes narrowed upon seeing this, but he set it aside for now -, a receipt for industrial strength cleaning supplies - a highly suspicious purchase, given the bleak context they were in -, a college tuition bill - not surprising, given the age of the people involved -, as well as two payments. One payment was addressed to Somi Baek - Six, apparently did use her real first name and now her identity was fully revealed -, and the other payment involved Three - apparently the Velskaya family was an affluent one.
Here were some clues, but they only led to more questions than answers. There were exactly seven receipts, and it would be a fair guess to say that each receipt had something to do with each player. Six and Three, Somi and Riley, were possibly linked to something shady involving an exchange of money, while Four, Ryan, was linked to a funeral home, perhaps as someone linked to the mob to hide bodies. Strangely enough, Orwell did not have the same receipt of payments - a testament to how careful Corvus was, perhaps, only paying him in cold, hard, untraceable cash.
The only receipt that could possibly be linked to him was the medical bill, and then again, perhaps it was a bluff. Iris wouldn't be stupid enough to keep their kid, would she? After all, she wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility - hell, she couldn't even take care of herself after ladies' night. As far as Orwell was concerned, that kid didn't exist, and if he did, he was on his own. He took the medical bill, folded it, and kept it in his pocket, leaving the rest of the receipts on the table. Then he turned to Riley and Ryan, who were still undecided about the order.
"The order said to rip your lashes out, Ryan. That's what the order said, and it's not as bad as losing a tooth or a nail. It's your call to make. I think you're risking your neck for nothing. And maybe you're not the only one who gets punished by your mistake - what about Thr- ah, Riley and Somi?"
Orwell picked out two receipts and held it towards them.
"Funeral home maintenance bills and some kind of big transfer to the Velskaya Corporation. Sounds like you two might know something about this. I found mine too, and Somi's. This King sure did some research before he went after us, didn't he."
Its Elven
BunniesOfDoom
TaintedMushroom
TokyoPewPew
Kaithe Dame
sweetestsins
Estylwen
vietmyke
Randomness