Ah. I mean... I'm actually debating several possibilities. My char will either have been at one point a preschool teacher, an alien griffon, a stern prosecutor in New York during Mafia days, a space marine, or one of the original subjects of King Solomon. I'm, uh. I'm having a hard time deciding.
Tominas Member
STATUS: Weak tea is for weak people 6 yrs ago
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- Tominas 8 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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Weak tea is for weak people
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7 yrs ago
Finals are finished, clouds disperse, CHRISTMAS COMES FOR US ALL
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7 yrs ago
Finals begin, black clouds gather, fridge is empty, need a rez
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7 yrs ago
Exams initiated, self-destruct protocol next in queue
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Most Recent Posts
@RyuShura@Kangutso
Do you mean AFTER they start to consume souls or before? For before, GM posted This
With the note: "I found that this picture closely resembles what I imagine the Spirits look like EXCEPT no hair, no distinct curves to say they're male or female. They are like glowy slender men lol."
Do you mean AFTER they start to consume souls or before? For before, GM posted This
With the note: "I found that this picture closely resembles what I imagine the Spirits look like EXCEPT no hair, no distinct curves to say they're male or female. They are like glowy slender men lol."
@RyuShura@Holy Soldier
Correct me if I'm wrong, but the status of the RP right now is still Apply. Are we closed?
Correct me if I'm wrong, but the status of the RP right now is still Apply. Are we closed?
@Scarescrow I just posted :T
While the Horned Guard choked and wallowed, a single soul which had been trying to move a thorned brick by itself turned to look, hands and chest oozing blood. Its formless face wasn't capable of demonstrating much emotion, but the erratic movements, its hunched posture, and the way its back pressed against thorns despite the pain it felt all screamed a horrible terror.
Looking to its left, the spirit saw its fellows in the cage, some cut in half and rolling on the ground. It was a rusty, bladed prison. To the glowing soul's right, the monster coughed and choked, guttural wheezing coming from lopsided jaws as blood and spittle oozed onto the ground. Raising its small, bleeding hands, the form realized it couldn't run. The cage was against a large, stone cliff face, and the tiny soul was trapped between the beast, the cliff, and the razor-bladed stones blocking the way.
Heat, pain, fear.
The spirit felt nothing else since it had been... here. Wherever here was. There was no time to think, no time to understand what was happening. A demon kneeled against the hot stone floor, steaming blood from the spirit's fellows coating its gnarled jaws and bulging stomach. Someone who could think would call this place hell, but for the spirit there weren't thoughts, not like that. The spirit only knew that it was afraid. It was the same fear as a dog that had been beaten and neglected, abused and forced to fight. And the owner was lying on the ground, choking on his own gluttony.
Somewhere deep inside the soft, glowing form of the spirit, something snapped. It would have yelled if it was able, not a battle cry but the pained scream of a wounded animal, fighting for its life. Hunched, 'face' twisted as much as it could, the soul raced across the floor, blood streaming from its chest, back, hands before reaching the stomach of the horned guard, bouncing off of the ground. With the fury of a cornered wolf, the spirit clawed and bit and tore at the two staples within its reach on the stomach of the beast. They were the easiest handholds on the creature, and the form of dead spirits seemed to glow within the fissure the metal held shut. There was no anger, no rage, no bloodlust. Only the cold, hard grip of terror in the spirit's heart of hearts drove it to seize one of the staples, jerking and twisting and pulling with all its might, both feet braced against the rolls of fat bubbling over the Guard's lower garments.
Distantly, the intelligent part of the spirit recognized the other souls were watching, but there was no hope that they would join it. It had no time for hope right now. There was only fear, twisting its heart and forcing it to act, blood and sweat from the beast pouring over the spirit, tears trailing from the small form's wild eyes.
Looking to its left, the spirit saw its fellows in the cage, some cut in half and rolling on the ground. It was a rusty, bladed prison. To the glowing soul's right, the monster coughed and choked, guttural wheezing coming from lopsided jaws as blood and spittle oozed onto the ground. Raising its small, bleeding hands, the form realized it couldn't run. The cage was against a large, stone cliff face, and the tiny soul was trapped between the beast, the cliff, and the razor-bladed stones blocking the way.
Heat, pain, fear.
The spirit felt nothing else since it had been... here. Wherever here was. There was no time to think, no time to understand what was happening. A demon kneeled against the hot stone floor, steaming blood from the spirit's fellows coating its gnarled jaws and bulging stomach. Someone who could think would call this place hell, but for the spirit there weren't thoughts, not like that. The spirit only knew that it was afraid. It was the same fear as a dog that had been beaten and neglected, abused and forced to fight. And the owner was lying on the ground, choking on his own gluttony.
Somewhere deep inside the soft, glowing form of the spirit, something snapped. It would have yelled if it was able, not a battle cry but the pained scream of a wounded animal, fighting for its life. Hunched, 'face' twisted as much as it could, the soul raced across the floor, blood streaming from its chest, back, hands before reaching the stomach of the horned guard, bouncing off of the ground. With the fury of a cornered wolf, the spirit clawed and bit and tore at the two staples within its reach on the stomach of the beast. They were the easiest handholds on the creature, and the form of dead spirits seemed to glow within the fissure the metal held shut. There was no anger, no rage, no bloodlust. Only the cold, hard grip of terror in the spirit's heart of hearts drove it to seize one of the staples, jerking and twisting and pulling with all its might, both feet braced against the rolls of fat bubbling over the Guard's lower garments.
Distantly, the intelligent part of the spirit recognized the other souls were watching, but there was no hope that they would join it. It had no time for hope right now. There was only fear, twisting its heart and forcing it to act, blood and sweat from the beast pouring over the spirit, tears trailing from the small form's wild eyes.
Sweet. And as far as we know, you have to eat souls to absorb them? Or are we not even there, instead focusing on "oh shit, this sure isn't a happy situation"
@Holy Soldier
And we can post in the IC before we have characters in the CS, because right now we're a horde of no name wisps?
And we can post in the IC before we have characters in the CS, because right now we're a horde of no name wisps?
You have both my interest and dedication, if you'll take them.
Will say, had some stuff come up IRL and will have to drop out. Life is a bitch, my bad. Hope you guys have a good time!
@SirSqueakalot91
I would just like to make the note that it's going to be very hard to find a picture of a real person that would look like a lizardfolk, rat-folk, and the others that are a little less human. Could there be an exception to this rule?
I would just like to make the note that it's going to be very hard to find a picture of a real person that would look like a lizardfolk, rat-folk, and the others that are a little less human. Could there be an exception to this rule?
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