The Harbinger of Ferocity

Post a random fact about yourself.

Once upon a time I attempted to live a life of normalcy in the vein of what others expected of me and told me to do. I mirrored everything I could observe, everything I could perform, but some disquiet part of myself always told me this was a lie and that it cut deeper and more sincerely than anything else. Moreover, it foretold me that living this lie, this illusion of self, would spell doom. Fool as I was, trying to be what the world expected of me, I buried this foreboding sentiment deep away. I piled upon it all of my self, my very core of identity, all traded for what I was told everything should be. But still and yet, I could hear this unspoken voice, this ethereal sensation that all of this was not right. I agreed, of course, although I persisted in pandering and trying to do as was "normal".

Not only did I fail, I failed more miserably and terribly in it than anything else in my life. So great and horribly so that the existence of this period in my life is almost entirely stricken from me; only the basest of emotions survived. It was as though one day I went to sleep, fallen into coma, and heard only the distant cries of those who tried to rouse me from my slumber. I have never experienced a more prolonged - years worth - period of subliminal anger, truthfully rage, stirred together with vehement self-loathing and spite, hopelessness beyond any comparison I have confronted; even in my number of deaths before revival, the place thereafter in an equally unconscious dark was truly better, more peaceful, perfect even and anything but this. So much so that when I broke free of it, it was as if I had awakened from that restless slumber.

I realized only some years later, many now, that I had almost put myself upon the altar, all to sacrifice everything I was and could be just for the sake of fleeting approval and comfort in this world. I had nearly killed the self, the very heart and soul. All to just live as the rest of the world, all to appease the rest of everyone and everything else. But for some reason, when I went back to the heart after my illusion - all the lies lived - were torn down, I said "No, no more."

The purpose of this story is that I at times wonder what would have become of me if I betrayed my nature, had I murdered the spirit for the sake of society. Where might I just be, if at all? When I reflect upon what I am now it only makes me to wonder if there was more intent on intervening, preventing me from doing all the things I ultimately needed to.

I will add in addendum that what brought this back to me was mere reflection. I often say I live a life of no regrets and here I find this one particular portion of the narrative an excellent example. I regret, not for a moment, forgetting the rest of the world.

Cara's Originally Titled OoC Hangout Thread ♥ (Still)

I am certain it will not be and that some measure of this will fall back on to the more responsible, skilled, and experienced members, @Carantathraiel. For the best one can hope that will be minimal but do expect something to come of it. Just with the added comfort and acceptance that this too shall pass.

Post a random fact about yourself.

Of all the Dungeons and Dragons archetypes others have likened me to, it has always been the druid, ranger, or cleric.

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

"The man who will not defend the honor of his cat cannot be trusted to defend anything."

Robert Lynd

Post a random fact about yourself.

There was never a day I enjoyed public education.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Assuming we continue at this exact rate, Brannor has but only one more turn he can preoccupy the dragon, @Norschtalen, @Lucius Cypher, @Ryonara, @Zverda. Cyanwrath should have statistically missed greater than sixty percent of his attacks, give or take, and has yet to come close to that. Given his seemingly exceptional luck is probably not about to run out any time soon, if you have anything in reserve, I recommend you make use of it as soon as you can and expediently to finish off that last axeman. I have no high hopes that once he's done being preoccupied that he won't say, take his revenge on Parum.

Post a random fact about yourself.

I find it difficult not to handle some fossils and become deeply sentimental, one of the few times I break bearing. There is something so otherworldly about being so close yet so far removed from these things that even the thought can be profoundly moving. All the familiarity, all the soul of something still lingers even in death.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

The unnatural resolve and endurance that flowed through the moontouched beast allowed it to weather a brutal storm that left its off white, pale fur stained with red. A step back from the recoil, it shook itself off and exhaled sharply with pointed, merciless fangs slick with spittle. With an ominous glow, the changed figure's pawed hand gave off ghostly light and the whole body for a moment relaxed as though a breakthrough in the recklessness was reached, a moment of lucidity. The digits flexed some as the palm grew more taut, a channel for a font of energy, and soon they laid themselves to rest against the stained chest armor of the pained beast. In a soft corona of silvery energy, the deep wounds all but disappeared, knitted back together into unnaturally tough flesh once more. While it did not remove the crimson stains or the sickening, metallic odor, it did stanch the worst of the injures taken - those same that would have killed a mere man outright several times over.

All that followed now was the fading dispatch of the ethereal shroud and its cool, divine glow, leaving the body. Such a moment of serenity, the eye of the storm, passed as the desperately needed second wind came to in full effect. The bestial, monstrous thing would hold out for as long as it could, so in return it lifted up the sword and this time, met the blade of the half-dragon with an audible clatter of tense steel, blade to blade; Cyanwrath would have his wish, but what was or once was Brannor, was not about to go easily or lightly. Every ounce of the tiger, from the tip of its whiskers to the point of its claws, were ready to go for a second round.

Yet for now the wild eyes flashed beyond the duel, a moment realizing that the tide was still roiling - perhaps turning - in all its chaos, then back to the draconic aggressor, the one who razed Greenest. Something needed to be done and it was clear that if the curse gifted man did not, and neither did his allies, none could or would.

Effects

Brannor will use the full amount of his Lay on Hands to restore 15 hit points to himself. He will still use his attack of opportunity to strike the first enemy that provokes from him if that instance arises.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

Post a random fact about yourself.

A several thousand dollar fossil I own was near ruined by a careless contractor when plaster struck it while it was on display because they did not properly enclose the area they were working on. As a result, the contractor's foreman was called and the subcontractor responsible removed from their partnership. This should serve as forewarning and testament to not be negligent in duties and attempt to cut costs in time or money.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Well done, that might be another one finished yet. A close battle still, to be certain, but our odds are improving with each turn with these string of rolls. Hopefully Brannor can keep Cyanwrath busy for a few more turns so that this cave expedition can end.