Status

Recent Statuses

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

I find that there is never enough time in the day. No matter just how early it might well be, it all passes too swiftly by and so rare is it that I feel like the day drags on.
I have considered a few options, ranging from darker low fantasy, something I am more partial to, to something as high fantasy in the mere hopes of finding players at all, @Gunther. Alternatively I might well try to start a modern campaign with much more down to earth characters although yet again the issue has been a lack of reliable players. Which is what leads me into my fact. In all my time roleplaying, the reason I have seen the most topics die is because the players go silent.
I am considering coming out of retirement to begin a campaign on the forum in the tabletop section but worry that it will merely be one of those inevitable things I will do that people stop being active in and kill the thread.
Rock Me



Some part of me still calls to the era of the 1980s for reasons unknown. This one recently rejoined me seemingly out of the blue. Why it came back again I cannot say.
All too often my dreams come before events, often in elaboration of them and extreme exaggeration of overarching themes. It is no wonder oneiromancy and prophecy were considered very, very true throughout the past of the world over, and that how seers or those with favor could predict the future that no others could. I much prefer the world of dreams as it were regardless of this foretelling or not.
"For in an area in which an established man-eater is operating, everyone suspects their own shadows and every sound heard at night is attributed to the man-eater."
Edward James "Jim" Corbett
There are several members of this thread who I would legitimately consider roleplaying with but never seem to find a topic I could actually bring my character to without disrupting anything.
The ferine paladin snarled as the tremendous blade connected at the following roar of the dragon being before him, the feral posture he had assumed ripping the sword clean. Whatever time Cyanwrath had to dispel the magic that had gripped his thoughts so briefly, the same which called him to cry out, that which likely cost the little woman her life, positively enraged the once huntsman. With an advancing step, the sickening sound of the blade freed, and the menace of men retaliated, and did so with violent retribution. The blade came free and up at an angle, carrying with it a wake of divine ethereal power. Some kernel of the furious, fanged thing that stood toe to toe with the equally fierce draconic being burned brighter and carried through the attack.

Brannor, perhaps what once was the man in the thrall of animal wrath, struck back in this way. But the beast dared not to swing once, it swung again and while the first blow was surely devastating in the same sense as to what the halfling had endured, either by skill or luck the draconic champion of the thuggish cult likely dodged the return swing. Each broad, thick hand that tore at the leather mitts that bound them hefted the sword, bringing it back and level while growling instinctively, upper lip quivering. One way or another this monster would suffer for its deeds, leading the tiger to circle around, knowing the opposition would almost surely follow now that they had been met in combat.

If the heroes could overwhelm their remaining two foes and plunge arrow, blade, and claw into them, the blue flight's raid leader might be felled. But that would require no small amount of fortune...


@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
The absolute minimum amount of time I spend sleeping is eight hours and if left to my own devices without need to alter or adjust routine for others, I will sleep much, much longer.
Thank you, @Tangletail, I should be joining you all shortly enough.
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