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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

With each moment of wizened preparation they took, it seemed to almost be in vain. The wasted stead, burned as it was, came as calm as any other sight short of their innate knowing. Had they just so happened to have past it by it would likely have given them this same feeling, that it was all to tranquil. All the death along the way they had seen scattered between the brush and the life of the season coming was foretelling; so many things had died clambering over this little spit of land. Ages past, years even, and only was it here no one dared disturb it. Except, of course, for the brave or foolish lot of five who scoured the remains before them where all they saw was the sweeping, wavering field, and the faint sound of the breeze.

From where they stood, it only settled in upon them that they were not along the longer the waited and watch. It was keen of them to not rush in, as they began to see three distinct silhouettes among the field, and in short order they realized just what they were; boar, wild boar more specifically, which had seemingly stopped rooting and were watching them back. The two groups spent a painfully long moment observing one another before the hoofed creatures, with no warning, bolted away and into the woods. Their fleeing figures first covering the blackened farm, through its remains, and off into the woodland beyond.

Boar, let alone three, were no idle game for any man. They were deadly and even skilled huntsmen put their life on the line to down one such a pig from a position of advantage. A single thrust of a lacerating tusk could pierce a man's flesh as violently as any sword or spear and worse yet, like the scratch of a cat, leave them with a wound that might never heal without aid. Perhaps they all sighed a collective breath of relief or perhaps the moment of seeing their quarry flee at first threat was disheartening - expecting a fight instead. Yet it was telling just what was withing spitting distance of the town and how the warnings were far from old wive's tales; the boar would have gutted them all had they the chance. Whatever shyness they displayed likely only came from the fact their opposition was much more numerous than they, to include both elf and giant at that.

But with the stillness of the moment settling in, it begged the question, where to begin searching the stead? Would they dare the field first? The cellar? The home itself? Each needed to be investigated and there was no telling what else was lurking nearby or, perhaps more deviously, waiting for them.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lauder@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
I have no issue with assigning the "Beast" archetype to that of a female, although it makes less sense conceptually and contextually. I suppose that comes just with feline nature that there is little dimorphism, outside size and obvious reproductive ends, between felids. This leads more into a fact of myself that while I understand entirely why humans have gender stereotype roles and that it is ingrained into their biology, it is still very foreign to me, as with many other facets of humanity.
Exhaling loudly through the jowls it bore, the monstrous incarnation and mingling of man and beast turned the sword over in one of its hands. The kobolds had clawed, teared, tore, and slashed at it with everything the had and it put nary a meaningful dent in its flesh, nothing in comparison to what that accursed dragonspawn had. But the bite of their weapons and the felling of their bodies by allies drove the thrall of nature's wrath to turn wildly around, still hungering for its next kill, drawn on by the light invoked before it realized there was nothing left in this portion of the cave.

"Enough!" It roared, eyes angrily searching and falling upon the young priestess and the tendril that held her, now basked in light, "You will have what you want, creature. And we will slay more of these vermin wherever they dare stop us just as we had this time." The obvious tone of Brannor came, albeit twisted and growled through pointed, carnivorous teeth.

This alternate form of him lived and breathed violence, a weapon of flesh and steel united, blessed by otherworldly power, but it was ill tempered and poorly trained. The events of Greenest had increasingly refined it, of course, yet it was no match for its nature. Nothing could hide the red stains that coated the pale fur or how it recklessly embraced its injuries, sustaining itself by some other means; if the past was any indication, the man who was still somewhere at its core would need sleep and sleep long after this, well after washing himself clean of the violence he had done while in it. Perhaps in due time the pendulum of behavior could be better shaped, better controlled, although first they would need be out of this wretched cave - after they dealt with these eggs, which seemed to be only now after feeding the thing which demanded a trade.


@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
I will have a post out this afternoon, seeing as we are still in combat.
The priest nodded in agreement yet was certain to emphasize he was not going with them. As they were before, they would be going without anyone who could mend wounds or injuries, something the man alleviated some in telling them that he would heal them of their ailments and damages incurred when they returned to the temple all before awarding the scroll to the man who seemed the most adamant in completing their collective tasks, that of the fallen paladin Beaumont. Placing the scroll case and the map into his hands, the priest marched off hastily to one side of the temple, robes trailing with him, and produced from his quarters presumably some of the few things the temple owned. Perfumed as he was by the incense and seemingly as genuine as it came, perhaps the holy men of this region were more sincere and noble than their far more populous counterparts to the west.

Warning them that they should not delay, noting this should take them until the hours before twilight, the man calmly ushered the five out on to the street. As empty as it was before and muddied from the melt and rains of the season, it was far less pleasant than the subtle warmth and mundanely mystical glow of the stained glass in the temple. It was, unfortunately, part of their trial to be cast out to fend for themselves - a literal "trial by ordeal" made manifest collectively. But the grumbling about the wet ground would ease as their entourage marched out and along the road leading further east toward the stead they were promised held their first endeavor for freedom. The walk there was met with no resistance of any kind from the land, the path flanked by greening grasses tall and sprig-like, and the air clean and pure unlike the village which was tinged with smoke and agriculture.

Were one not any wiser, this place just south of the Hinterlands would be readily mistaken for prime claims. Just how many men had come this way in these hopes and these lies for year upon year before they realized the wilderness itself would revolt? It must well have been since time immemorial, a siren's song to so many would-be adventurers and land seekers to create their status. As growing and green as it was along the way, this place was surely littered with bones, the dead hidden in plain sight. It was an illusion without the magic, a terrible trick to be played upon any, but just for this moment it seemed all too reasonable a conclusion that it was not what it was told to be.

Then they came to a clearing in the woods, a swathe of land they could not mistake, for out in the middle of it laid a blackened structure whose design was skeletal. Some of the surrounding land about it was likewise blackened, consumed by fire, and parts of its once sizable field equally burned. What had not gone up in flames was the spoils of the seasons past, rogue plants that flowed like a wavering sea of green and gold. There was no sight, sound, or smell of anything out of the ordinary here and it gave an eerie presence by that alone. Were there not creatures for them to oust? To remove from this plot? Was this place not being slowly reclaimed by the beasts of the forest surrounding it?

For such a large area it was strange indeed, yet for the moment it seemed all were safe upon the dry, earthen road they had walked. Danger, however, was only a short ways off in every direction for them...


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lauder@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
"Yes, a hunt of sorts," The priest replied after eagerly nodding in agreement to the confirmation of their task by Beaumont, having locked eyes with him briefly before almost preparing to address the elven woman before the giant came to in her own plain, determined words, "Only this is not a task for sport. The village claimed the land, I am sure likely with dear prices paid generations ago, long before I was even a boy or any of us stood in this sacred temple, so I cannot say that the creatures here own it anymore."

The man sighed, rubbing a few fingers over his forehead in thought before continuing thereafter, "If... if you can persuade them to go away and stay gone, by the will of Erithar please, do so. I would prefer you resolve it without violence if you can manage it but the Marches are harsh and well..."

His eyes scanned each of their figures for reaction or expression this time, only stopping upon Tracan, "Unforgiving, as you know. If anyone should know, that is."

All of the implications and implied content weighed squarely upon the young outcast's shoulders. It may well have been the priest knew more than he let on, seeing how he settled his attention upon her before folding his arms over his chest and leaning back slightly, his spine curved as he sized her up. Or, a man who lived his whole life in this forsaken countryside of human making likely knew well enough a lone, not immediately hostile elf was probably something well outside the norm - either a seemingly genuine forgery of the true elves of the east or some sort of exile, willing or not. Considering she carried a bow as armament, it was quite likely it was not so willing. His emphasis on her pointed out to the other four fell away as he allowed his arms to go lax and returned to addressing them as a sum.

"I expect it will not be easy but you all are certainly more prepared than any of us to do so. The beasts and monsters in the wood around Reddenbarrow are more vicious than anything else you may have seen elsewhere."

@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lauder@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
I recall reading the now famous Zombie Survival Guide well before the media became infatuated with the undead in the many versions of them. It was novel at the time but it has become increasingly oversaturated as we see now.
"You seem more in your element now priest."

"Of course, my friend," The priest replied in hushed tone so not to be disruptive, yet with just enough bated breath to emphasize his sincerity that followed, "A prison is a ghastly place, I would rather not spend any time there that I needn't, and I am sure you do not need me to explain the whys to you."

His young eyes scanned the entourage as some did, to his quiet surprise, pray to whomever they gave thanks to. He took them away only to watch the manner in which the orc he had spoken to deftly handled the staff that belonged to him before, without further word or effort or issue, fold himself comfortably upon the floor seated. It was not for some time after that any others approached him, although first the towering giant-woman. She had said whatever prayers she needed offer to who patron or patrons, Marthan could not be sure, and then ably took control of her last few goods that the justice had kept away from them. While the priest understood the rationale, it was almost lamentable for him when he realized their hearts were... decidedly more just than most who dared this formidable lands, but what was done was done. He had no say in the process outside of informing their judge whether they be good, bad, or otherwise in nature, and there was certainly even less an unarmed priest could do about keeping arms about at hand for those who were more noble than others; fortunately this whole lot of them had them to begin with, a crime unto itself but excused in the Marches more often than not.

Seeing that the towering figure handled the tremendous, intimidating, quite clearly orcish weapon before him, it would be a lie if the priest did not expect some part of her to lash out. Pleasantly surprised to see that her tightened fist was some form of gratitude, alongside her words as they came with equally sincere respect and sincerity, all he could do was smile kindly in response. He hadn't any gesture he could think of that would be as meaningful as that and it raised questions he did not wholly understand as a young practitioner of faith. Before he could dwell on it, so too was he thanked by the man who had an outburst at the justice earlier who had begun sharpening his sword in the temple. It was not a practice one would regularly permit short of those ordained to wage war in the name of Erithar but the priest had to exercise some sincere leniency as these people did not know any better. Only one of them seemed to have any clout in that capacity, so he could not fault them, at least not now, but Marthan did make a note to inform them in the future of some general customs of practice to abide by while inside the chambers of the holy.

As all was finally done, their brief time spent in the smokey, perfumed air had, and had enough at that to give their blessings to whoever for more or less sparing their lives this time, or whatever it was they truly prayed about or over, the priest at last spoke up seeing as they had come to increasingly gather. An hour or so of their time was admirable, few of even Reddenbarrow spent time here for that long other than for major holy days, celebrations, or tribute, and so it stoked the excitement of the priest who had in the meantime come up with something for them to begin with. It was by no means much but it was far, far more than what the humble farmers and their wives dared deal with, and not something the militia would risk time on.

"I see you have all done that which you have needed to do." His voice echoed ever so slightly in the towering halls among the basic pillars he stood beside near the pulpit.

"But it is unfortunately time I need ask something of you all to help see you to your freedom. It is that I have a quest for you, a task, and not of particularly light matter, at least not to the people of our village. It is something I believe you all are fit to do given what seems to be your collection of skills and fighting capacity and something our poor militia cannot spend time on from patrolling the farmland and surrounding woodland."

The priest delayed for a moment as he walked away and off into his chamber, returning with a scroll and a scroll case. He neither unfurled its contents nor did anything else with them short of allow them to rest in his hand and place the other to his chest while he spoke up yet again.

"There is a raided stead not far from our village where an attack by thieves and brigands left the ground barren and burned. Erithar be praised by all the thankful those fires did not consume more the crop of the surrounding steads, but the abandoned farm is still of value to us. Unfortunately, the creatures of the wood have moved into the remains and its area..." He paused only to allow the scenario to evolve in their minds, knowing they would quickly begin to understand as he continued, "And have laid claim to the land by their presence. We have those among us in the village who could put the stead back to use yet no means to do so as long as these things remain. So it is you who I need ask and task to clear out these vermin from every inch of the plot."

Motioning with the scroll case, the priest continued after, "I have a map I will lend you for the village and the surrounding countryside for all the Marches. The stead is not far as you will see but you will need travel and becoming lost is, as you know, most dangerous. Please, I beg of you, do not dare into the woodland either, I am sure this will already rouse some of its ire by slaying all manner of invasive creature for a risk we must take to secure future harvests."


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lauder@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex
There are skills I look into and study briefly simply for the sake they caught my eye and my attention. I will never say, be meaningfully mechanically inclined or able in the world of electronics, or even legitimately appreciate them, but I cannot help myself from my curiosity.
During the winter months, I tend to sleep longer and more often than compared to those summer months. Not solely because of the temperature difference but also so too because of the added silence.
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