The amount of times I have been mistaken for a lion are perhaps beyond count. This is all despite having no mane, woodland rosettes, and elongated sabertooth canines.
The Harbinger of Ferocity Member
STATUS: Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics. 4 yrs ago- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
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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 am no tenderfoot just as I am not lacking in graces, @Hellion. However, when I was a cub I was not particularly fond of cut grass so I have been told. Something about it apparently kept me confined and so I generally spent a fair amount of time isolated on a stretch that was protected from it along with the rest of the entourage so I have been told. A blanket was all that was needed to keep the younger me and the rest of the animals in one spot for the day.
I have seemingly not once stepped meaningfully on one of these tiny plastic bricks which people attribute great pain to.
As the two of the four entered into a spat amongst themselves, the ambient silence of the night began to fall over them all. What little activity and life came with light, darkness put out, and between their conversations and deeds among the confines of their shared prison, all now that was left to hear otherwise was the dull roar of the torches. The crackle of their slow burning pitch and turning flames, how they cast precious light and some semblance of warmth upon the stony walls. Were it not for these things, the fire and the thick walls, one could only entertain the types of things that would be scouting them out now.
The militia guardsman who maintained the prison, as he had been each night before, was absent as well; not a clink of keys or sniffing of dogs or any such variety to be expected like to the far more civilized west. Here was desolation, true and unadulterated, but at least this time they were not alone - although that could well have been for the better at this point. Regardless if that were true or not, they had entered the first hour of night as one. The real question was, would they see another together? And if so, how many more? Some of them were marked, stained in some invisible way that only a few knew what to do with, while others were just drifters on the wind. Without such poignancy in mind, it seemed they would trade words for the time being and the night was young after all, perhaps in due time they would come to recognize they shared more in common than they had apart. Yet that? That would likely only come with an act of fate, a fate none of them were even aware of quite yet...
@BangoSkank@Lord Wyron@Hellion@TyrannosaursRex
The militia guardsman who maintained the prison, as he had been each night before, was absent as well; not a clink of keys or sniffing of dogs or any such variety to be expected like to the far more civilized west. Here was desolation, true and unadulterated, but at least this time they were not alone - although that could well have been for the better at this point. Regardless if that were true or not, they had entered the first hour of night as one. The real question was, would they see another together? And if so, how many more? Some of them were marked, stained in some invisible way that only a few knew what to do with, while others were just drifters on the wind. Without such poignancy in mind, it seemed they would trade words for the time being and the night was young after all, perhaps in due time they would come to recognize they shared more in common than they had apart. Yet that? That would likely only come with an act of fate, a fate none of them were even aware of quite yet...
@BangoSkank@Lord Wyron@Hellion@TyrannosaursRex
Having had a few brushes with death all of them I found quite peaceful in retrospect when I stepped into their surreal quality. Shocking at first, particularly when I was only a cub, but with time it became more an old friend again and now I understand the metaphors that often come with it in that sense. I am not afraid of it and I have spent time contemplating that if I were to die in the moment, it was at least a death from a life that had done things of value; a good death. Ironically, if anything I only hope for a day to just close my eyes one final time and that be it, to go back to the dreaming world, and something often suggests to me that I will be here quite so long as that to happen, for better and worse alike.
No, it appears not, although for some reason I am almost positive Brannor had advantage on Strength checks while shapechanged and I remember it coming up somewhere at another point in discussion but I cannot seem to recall where and what that was. In this case, it would be a 5, making the whole post invalid, @Hekazu. Which honestly changes very little, I suppose.
The hardening of the kobolds' glue pots did not last long as there was an audible crack beneath the sizable man-tiger. With a strong flex of build and taking one snarling step forward, still held back only by the monster's grip, the slavering beast was keen to put a decisive and violent end to these little dragonkin. Bits more of the glue cascaded off and broke upon the cave floor as the intensity grew.
"Release me and we will find you food." The jowls snarled, having in the moment paid no mind to what Parum had said or that they had already seemingly virtually agreed on how to escape its clutches. All now that there was, was overwhelming drive and desire to hew these depraved creatures. It was the sole thing that mattered now, an impetus put forward, and were it not for being held back they would be leapt upon with animalistic vengeance. So eager was it that the monstrous limbs writhed in resistance to the captor's restraint, each leg strained to lunge the moment it would be let go. All of the pale cat shifted and moved as consequence, bits of armor and necklace chiming off its chest.
All the creature needed to do, was do that. All it needed to do was allow them to go and it would be done.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
"Release me and we will find you food." The jowls snarled, having in the moment paid no mind to what Parum had said or that they had already seemingly virtually agreed on how to escape its clutches. All now that there was, was overwhelming drive and desire to hew these depraved creatures. It was the sole thing that mattered now, an impetus put forward, and were it not for being held back they would be leapt upon with animalistic vengeance. So eager was it that the monstrous limbs writhed in resistance to the captor's restraint, each leg strained to lunge the moment it would be let go. All of the pale cat shifted and moved as consequence, bits of armor and necklace chiming off its chest.
All the creature needed to do, was do that. All it needed to do was allow them to go and it would be done.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
There is a particular peculiar thing about humans which I cannot seem to grasp whenever it comes around in my hearing it and that is the drama that comes with a wedding. For the life of me I cannot understand why it is made into such a grandiose event in every sense of the word and why it is that people breed such immense stress themselves over it.
To the surprise of the forsaken man, stricken without his pendant and already seemingly ignored by the heavens above for his failures prior, the name "Gorosk" was exactly what he expected it to be the moment he thought of it. Almost mouthing the words as they attempted to form on his lips, it was all but guaranteed that the man who announced himself was an orc. Or, at least partially an orc, but an orc all the same. Just as the land of Thraduum was not kind to its new natives or anything that dared there from outside, so too were orcish names harsh. Was he a mercenary or a raider of some variety? At least, those were the initial thoughts that slung themselves off into the dark of the conscious for Renault.
An orc outside of Andallia and the warring nations of the south had to have been an unusual character. It stood to reason that was why he was arrested at the very least. Even if he wasn't rabble-rousing and killing things for the sake of making them dead as many orcs were prone to do, he quite likely was a sellsword, especially with a name as "Gorosk". It was clear he was not hiding his identity, at least not in that sense, as no one would reasonably tell such a fable that Renault come imagine.
@Lord Wyron
An orc outside of Andallia and the warring nations of the south had to have been an unusual character. It stood to reason that was why he was arrested at the very least. Even if he wasn't rabble-rousing and killing things for the sake of making them dead as many orcs were prone to do, he quite likely was a sellsword, especially with a name as "Gorosk". It was clear he was not hiding his identity, at least not in that sense, as no one would reasonably tell such a fable that Renault come imagine.
@Lord Wyron
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