Avatar of Searat
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    1. Searat 7 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses

5 yrs ago
Current Can someone please lower Life's difficulty setting?
10 likes
6 yrs ago
Pizza is a main course, but is also a pie. Therefore, I can eat pizza as my meal and have another pizza as my dessert.
3 likes
6 yrs ago
When I need a left sock, there is none. When I don't need one, there is a surplus. I think the world is toying with me.
2 likes
6 yrs ago
Sunny days are meant to be spent in a dark room surfing the net and watching series in netflix.
11 likes
6 yrs ago
Eating a stick of butter is not as fun as it sounds to be.
4 likes

Bio

I am Searat
Half sea, Half rat, All Aqueous Rodent.

My role playing career is something i consider as a hobby of some sort but as to how long i have been role playing, I would say that i have three to four years under my belt. (Though most of the times I was role playing, they were nothing as serious as this and were more of a means to relieve stress with my friends or test out ideas that came to mind with them.)

As for my preferences to genres of role play, I would have no biases nor specific preferences to any genre and would be able to adapt to the genre as best I can when placed into it.

Some of my hobbies consist of: playing games, surfing the web, walking, bowling, darts, and cooking. I sometimes write and draw things but not as much to consider it to be a serious hobby.

Most Recent Posts

Cool. I'll see if I can make Griz a Heroforge version of himself.

HP: 97/300 | MP: 315/315 | SP: 260/330



The pain from the toxic mist didn't fade. At best the pain was just dulled a little bit by the Pearl Clover. At least the pain from the shrapnel was affected. And yet again he was on the brink of death. Which is surprising considering he was supposed to be a backline damager and support.

Regardless, Lugh was in a considerable amount of trouble. Losing just a little over 140 hp in such a small span of time was concerning the man. Even more when it was unlikely for their local tough guy could act while being inside that thing's jaws. If this kept going, even someone as sturdy as Lugh would die rather quickly. He needed to do something that would help free his comrade from the, almost literal, jaws of death.

Pulling back the bloodied bowstring once again and cramming another clover into his mouth, the scout went on the offensive. In a blink of an eye, Raime was running parallel to the lunging form of the centipede woman. Sending seven bolts rapid into the joints of its legs and body. Having [Dive N Strike] at the ready to reduce the likelihood of his demise.










HP: 126/300 | MP: 315/315 | SP: 270/330



This feeling was far far far worse than the time he got a faceful of pepper spray back when he was in high school. It was still worth the 50 bucks.

Still, his flesh felt like it was on fire. Made evident by glancing at his limbs and witnessing the numerous boils that appeared when his vulnerable and unprotected flesh when he made contact with the poison mist. Even worse, he was having difficulty breathing. The mist likely doing what it did upon his skin but within his own lungs. Distancing himself from the monstrosity, his hands scrambled to his pouch for the herb he had familiarized to be his one true friend in the plant world. Gnashing the Pearl Clover into a paste, aiming to alleviate the mind-numbing pain and that chemical burns were under the umbrella term of 'burns'. In theory, it would reduce the severity of the blisters preventing him from taking a proper breath and releasing the noxious gas contained within his lungs.

He wasn't too sure about how he would treat his poisoned status, though.

"Fugginbish..." Raime rumbled out through the dulling pain. Words accompanied by a trail of blood and spit leaking out of his hyper salivating mouth. The scout sheathed his dagger of bone and pulled out his trusty light crossbow, sending several bolts aimed at the eyes of the centipede woman. Even if he missed his mark, the bolts would still embed themselves into her skull.

But for the sake of safety, Raime kept [Dive'N'Strike] on hand just in case he needed to move out of the way quickly.









The goblins cheered and howled to express their sense of achievement. Even Gurs, bruised as his ego may be, was taking part in the celebration. They approached the beast with wonder and awe as Breden talked. Griz had approached the fallen beast to confirm if Breden's decisive blow had done its job properly, but this beast was more tenacious than most of its kind. In one final act of defiance, it lurched forward to take a swing against the approaching group.

Griz's eyes widened in shock. As the claw careened towards an unaware Gurs.

Risking his own life and limbs, Griz lunged toward the younger warrior and managed to knock the goblin down; just as the claw was just about to meet flesh. Griz, however, was not as lucky. In the process of saving the younger goblin, he had gained a fresh set of shallow cuts on his shoulder blade, his warm blood beginning to drip down his back...but it was far better than the alternative of Gurs dying or getting his arm ripped clean off.

Gurs laid prone on the ground but looked up to his savior. "Y-you saved me...but why?" Gurs said in confusion. Not only was he acting arrogant and overtly rude to him and his friends, but he also was a liability to the group during the fight. Only becoming helpful when he was brought back to his senses by Griz. By all means, he would have let a goblin like him die if he were in Griz's place. Which begs the question nagging his mind: 'Why did he risk his life to save my own?'

"It's my job." Griz answered simply. Turning to face the rest of the patrol group, he speaks once again. "It may be a little early for us to end our patrol. But I suppose it is justified considering we just fought a monstrosity four times our size. So I propose that we haul the owlbear corpse back and divide it among us there. Agreed?" They may not have found any traces of the Blue Feet Tribe but they at least had managed to snag the haul of the entire season. Not only would it raise the tribe's morale and supplies, but it would also almost surely make the ancestors proud. What more if the Shaman offers up the skull to them?

Today may have ended their patrol early by force of nature, but perhaps the next patrol the Chief would send them would be more fruitful in regard to gathering intel against their foe?
Gurs was tossed aside easily by the monstrosity.

Despite the metallic plate doing its job in keeping the goblin's insides inside, the power that was behind the swipe was simply tremendous. The young warrior was sent a good distance away. And if the swiping blow of the owlbear wasn't enough, his body crashed against the trunk of a dead tree with enough residual force to break away chunks of bark off the wood. He desperately gasped for air on the ground while the owlbear reared its face towards him...but just as the starving beast was about to charge. It had a taste of Breden's swordplay. Redirecting the beast's enmity towards the group instead of the fallen goblin warrior.

Koglan let out a quick prayer to the Ancestors and a war cry to inspire the patrol group. While the majority of the patrol group raised arms and roared praise to the Ancestors in response. Two of the more inexperienced goblins turned tail and made a beeline back to the village. Embarrassed as they may be from running away, it was still better than taking their chances against the starved beast.

"Ancestors guide us!" Rom bellowed before raising his club with both hands and slamming it against the owlbear's face. Causing a small chunk of its beak to be sent flying. The other goblins shot arrows and used their spears to keep the beast at bay. Griz, on the other hand, had chosen to retrieve their arrogant goblin and help him get back into formation.

Gurs had just stood up with the help of his spear, even then his legs were shaking from both shock and fear. Glancing down to the three newly formed rents against his breastplate, a chill ran down his back when he imagined how close he was to being eviscerated. He felt sick to the core. He'd never fought something like this before. Ancestor's sake, he had only experience with wolves and training duels! A million ideas ran to and fro inside his mind, but the most prominent of which was: 'I wanna go home.'

He didn't even realize Griz had been yelling at him. "Get a hold of yourself!" The hunter slapped the young warrior to reality. "Stop gawking at yourself like a youngling and get back to the group! Go! Go! Go!" Shoving and even kicking the young goblin running back to the group.

The owlbear however was no longer going on the defensive. Knocking Breden down with the back of its paw as it swiped aside the spears while the archers were re-nocking another volley of arrows. Following up with a tackle that sends Rom flying back and crashing into the back row archers. But before the beast could continue it's charge and possibly hit Koglan, Griz let loose an arrow into the creature's eye. Causing it to rear onto its back legs as it blindly swiped against the air in front of its face, trying to dislodge the arrow.

"Attack! Fall the beast!" Griz roared out a command.
Griz shrugged at the suggestion of what tribe were acting as their aggressors but judging from the report from the hunter that spotted the scouting party, it was very likely the Blue Feet Tribe. The hunter reported the sighting to the North West of the village and noted that they had accessories made from fish bones and shells. Griz guessed that something spooked them off from the river as, even in previous years, the Blue Feet Tribe would have just kept fishing in the river as usual and ignore the other nearby tribes. But their tribe and the Blue Feet Tribe never really got along well as Breden mentioned, so it did not surprise Griz much when the hunter reported the incident.

Their patrol was, thankfully, uneventful for the time being, but Griz kept his guard up. No matter how peaceful it may seem, things could change at a drop of a hat. And nobody knew if or when it would happen. Though that didn't mean he couldn't spare some of his time with some idle chitchat. "Yeah, the Mountain Tribe's goblins had grey skin but they also had goblins with brown and some even orange. Not only that, they were tougher than any goblin I've ever fought. They weren't very smart but they were stupid strong." Griz said as he remembered the incident that sparked the conflict.

One of the tribe's allies, the Hilltop Tribe, had recently been run out of some of their territories by the encroaching Mountian Tribe. The chief didn't want to break a generations-old pact between the two tribes and sent over a hundred goblins as support. The fighting lasted for months but with the combined power of both tribes, they defeated and repelled the Mountain Tribe with acceptable amounts of casualties. Though in Griz's opinion? The death of his mentor and long time friend wasn't an acceptable loss at the time. Though as he got older, he gradually came to terms with his death. But remembering him caused the older hunter to fall silent out of respect and remnants of loss.

Gurs, on the other hand, clicked his tongue in disinterest from the older goblin's answer to Breden. They didn't sound so tough. Maybe because Griz used that dinky looking dagger instead of something cool and dangerous like his spear, those mountain chumps seemed to be tough. He smiled to himself broadly as he imagined himself felling a huge grey-skinned mountain goblin with a single spear thrust and bathing in the glory that followed. Being hailed as a hero of the tribe, getting the prestige he rightfully deserved, his choice of any fertile female in the tribe, and being recognized as the next in line of being chief of the tribe.

He was brought back to reality by Rom snatching the goblin away from a tree trunk he was about to walk into while daydreaming. "Gurs, for the Ancestors' sake. Get your head out of the clouds and back on your shoulders." Just as he finished scolding the young warrior, a looming figure stumbled out of the woods.

A massive owlbear plodded slowly into view.
It seemed rather old but dangerous nonetheless.
"I hoped for more but 7 should be enough." Griz said just as the village's resident blacksmith had made himself known and expressed his desire to help in the patrol. Griz, for one, was glad that even despite the smith's advanced age, good ol' Koglan still had a fire that burned as hot as his forge inside of him.

Sadly enough, not everyone was happy to have Koglan in the patrol.

It seemed that the village's tryhard was not having any of the 'antics' of the elder goblin. Griz was about to intervene when Breden defended the old smith without a second thought. The simple act done by Breded spoke volumes of how much he had grown over the past season. From the shy mild mannered goblin hunter that could barely hunt a deer, to current Breden.

The confident goblin hunter-warrior that stood before Gurs. A warrior nearly a year older than he was.

Gurs clicked his tongue with irritation after Breden's defense and suggestion that the senior hunter be the one to lead the patrol group. He was almost sure that if he acted all tough and in charge, the rest would just follow him. But he didn't expect that Breden, of all goblins, to be the one to go act up against him. Regardless, his plan failed and he there was nothing else for him to do but gripe. "Fine, but if the old codger dies, I'm telling the chief that it's everyone's fault but mine." Gurs finishes as he intentionally bumps into Breden and glancing to Griz and muttering the word 'freak' under his he walks back to position.

Griz, not letting Gurs' actions dissuade him, began explaining that they would be beginning their patrol by securing that there were any traces of the rival tribe's presence in the village's immediate perimeter. Then afterward they would begin following the patrol route proper. From the hunting and foraging grounds in the immediate area, up to the tribal borders. They would be sweeping the area for any sign or clues, and hopefully this would be a peaceful patrol.

But fate rarely cared to follow plans.

HP: 179/300 | MP: 315/315 | SP: 270/330



The first thing the scout did after being thrown back into a thorny pile of pain was to slip a Clover into his mouth and to mercilessly masticate the herb to a paste that relieved the agony that racked his mind and body. Though as the pain faded, the dull throbbing throughout his battered body warned him that he can't take much more punishment. "<Shit...>" He muttered under his breath as he stood up from his thorny bed to see the catgirl get snatched up by the centipede woman's unbelievably long and prehensile tongue. If it didn't give him nightmares before, that sight alone solidified the monster's place in the man's list of 'shit I would never want to see again.'

Lugh had pulled out and used a talisman that buffed his speed to roughly equal his speed and rushed to the aid of their restrained companion by trying to smack the creature's jaw twice. Not needing another hint, Raime too went on the offensive. Drawing out his Wargtooth Dagger from his side and made a beeline to the tongue. If Lugh was aiming to discombobulate the monster, then he would attempt to sever the tongue to increase the likelihood of freeing their would-be ninja.

In a blink of an eye, Raime closed the distance and delivered several vicious slashes with pinpoint accuracy to the extended tongue muscle. If the monster were to retaliate at any point, Raime would have prepared to activate [Dive N Strike] so he could have a chance in avoiding the attack entirely and severing the tongue in one fell swoop.









The ranger gave the reception area a quick once over. Trying to look for any sign or clue to its relation to the drow gambling den...though he couldn't spot any immediate signs and as far as he could perceive, this was your simple run of the mill bathhouse. Albeit one with an almost nauseating miasma of sweet-smelling aromas. He could only imagine what kind of sensory overload their resident wildling could be experiencing right now.

Nonetheless, he knew of the true purpose of this establishment. Just like back West, the bathhouse was simply a front. The actual business ran along the lines of any bordello or whore house they passed by earlier that day. But he wasn't here to play the holier-than-thou routine. He was here to look for further leads as to where Sandy's current location.

And if it meant that he had to become this establishment's customer to do it, so be it.

The day treatment was the best shot he had on stumbling upon any clues, what more, maybe even discover more valuable intel than they expected.

"Howdy ma'am. I would like the day treatment." The ranger said in a friendly tone as he slightly lifts his helmet by the brim to politely greet her.
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