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4 yrs ago
Current Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
5 yrs ago
The highest, most decisive experience is to be alone with one's own self. You must be alone to find out what supports you, when you find that you can not support yourself.
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5 yrs ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
5 yrs ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
6 yrs ago
The core of an individual is the mystery of life, which dies when it is 'grasped'. That is also why symbols want to keep their secrets.

Bio

The Harbinger of Ferocity


Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine
Nature, red in tooth and claw.

"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."
- Carl Van Vechten

I am, at my core, a personification and manifestation of those things whose blood and hearts run red with the ferocity of the animal world. It is this which convicts and controls my works, my writing, my being; the force and guidance in which I gain wisdom from. It is what inspires me as a creator and weaver of words, the very thing I admire as an author.

My leanings, savage as they are, are of the feline sort as there exists no greater lineage of beasts whom can be drawn from. No others captivate and motivate my talent and skill as the greatest of cats do.

Most Recent Posts

"A cat can be trusted to purr when she is pleased, which is more than can be said for human beings."
William Ralph Inge
Just as I am partial to the scent of cedar and other pines, so am I most partial to frankincense and myrrh.
@Polybius @Dark Light @DocRock @Voltus_Ventus
Chapter I
"Carrying on in your examinations of the trunk, you discover nothing is keeping it sealed. This oddity, which you stash in the recesses of your seemingly blank memory, strikes you. What good is a unlocked, now waterlogged chest when so clearly it was meant to be sealed? Carrying on, you fall to one knee and place your palms to the worn latches, flipping them up and open. Casting the top open, within you discover a series of badly damaged texts in the form of five leather bound books. Each one is in terrible condition as expected from surviving whatever scuttled the vessel and near doomed you to the abyss yet all retain distinct personalities beyond just the variation in tone and color. Each one feels different as your fingers trace their unnamed but ornately decorated spines."

"Aside from the obvious in the texts you find a drenched stack of parchment, with ink sliding from the pages into the seawater, as well as a glass vial of ink and writing utensils. Whoever owned such a thing was a person of great dignity and skill you can assume but the owner is nowhere to be found and in this moment you are uncertain if there were anyone else other than you in this dilemma now. Thumbing through the papers, you find some remains of the text that may be possibly read despite the damage."
Of all beasts of legend and myth, perhaps my favorite is the White Death. A ghostly white tiger-like sabertooth felid said to roam Alaska with ties as old as the native peoples in the region, which appears during blizzards and whiteouts. From the storm that summons it or travels with it, it kills, and for each human it fells, it gains a stripe upon its hind legs. Interestingly enough, there are camera traps of a large, white pantherine cat from Alaska that have surfaced over the past few years that vaguely fit the description.
@Polybius @Dark Light @Pyromaniacwolf @DocRock @Voltus_Ventus
Chapter I
"After some time appealing to your senses, with a heavy heart you realize that there are no clear memories or thoughts that stick with you. Not just that you should remember something, rather that what should be there is not there at all. This only adds to the mystery of your fate but it is clear in this moment there are more pressing matters, which you begin by stalking through the debris in the high hopes of salvaging something of use."

"Among the bits of wood and metal, some of the former natural and the latter all from what you can only assume to be the remains of the ship you were journeying upon, you come upon a chest. Its face buried in the sand and shoulders as wide as a man's, the trunk is soon pried free of its coarse hold. It strikes the wet sand with a dull thud as you wipe your brow, looking over your catch. Strangely, although it bears mounting for locks, only one hangs off a loop, the other likely lost to the sea or wherever it was you escaped from that was the impenetrable black."
Brannor would not initially give chase, no, assuming a bow would suffice and just slowly pelting them with arrows until they caved. I imagine if and when Orchid would go down he would join as a result, not willing to let them go without an ally in such an unknown.
The majority of my scarification is along the phalanges of the digits and the metacarpals.
When I went soul searching, I never imagined I would find myself. The whole notion of a journey always seemed like some sort of mystic babble, drafted by pseudo-spiritualists to propel some great narrative about discovery and understanding that was passe. Ironically, they were correct all along. Even in my youngest years, the few I ever did meet such as a practicing shaman, urged this and the rest of the world - the modern contemporary - scoffed at at. More fascinatingly, they were alarmingly correct in their predictions of what I would find when I was truly tried and tested.
To you as well, @Carantathraiel, although I did not partake. I only knew of the holiday being the weekend past thanks to the forum, as many were seemingly engaged in the festivities. How I always manage to somehow forget that there are other holidays at all. Perhaps being away from them so long and not participating in them even prior to that explains why. Interesting some of the things done, such as coloring water with dye.
It would do well for one of the party to post, time will move on again if not.
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