Utrax

Delete Posts For Utrax? pls?

Also this one.

roleplayerguild.com/posts/5230476

Delete Posts For Utrax? pls?

Hello! Can you delete these? Thank you!

roleplayerguild.com/posts/5233033
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5234571
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roleplayerguild.com/posts/5230628

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery [Closed]

Here is bug race posted in thread for the people, hello I am Utrax.

Gi-Syn-Yi

Gi-Syn-Yi

_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 60yrs | HEIGHT: 4ft-5ft | WEIGHT: 30-80lbs | FREQUENCY: Extremely Rare | MAIN SETTLEMENT: Hv-Yit-Ki (Beneath The Bone Sea) |

DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ From a fathomless distance beyond the stars, there came a terror, chitinous and buzzing. A Legion poured from the skies to lay waste to a people, clad in animal skins and infantile as a race, which knew not what the creatures were or why they came. Such as it was, the people faced hardship and near extinction, but there came intervention. None recall the battle which lead to the Gi-Syn-Yi's retreat, the means of their crushing defeat, or the deadly foe they faced, but they fled. Deep into the caverns and veins of the world, hidden beneath the stone and sand, unable to return to the stars they so cherished, they fled. Centuries passed as their warriors and priests died, stories faded, oral traditions shifted, and stellar ideals warped. Not one of the Gi-Syn-Yi of today's population stands as tall or looks as imposing as their predecessors. Not one recalls the details of the passing of the centuries or the battle from which they fled. There remains only a lingering fear of the 'Dark Howling One' and an ancestral call home. Indeed they have devolved somewhat, adapted to survive in the cramped darkness of their underground city. With the passing of time, a species predispositioned for conquest and war has grown mellow and thoughtful. Generally, they are a heavily sarcastic and witty people, with a very slow to anger kind of disposition these days. They're smaller now-- both in stature and in population-- than their eight-foot tall and innumerable ancestors, and quite a deal weaker. Their bodies have adapted to the digging and crouching of their environment-- adapted through generational mutation-- for any dangers which present themselves in caves. Thick chitin covers their outer bodies, acting as an armor for a soft inner body. This chitin is incapable of being pierced or crushed, unless a MIGHTY force impacts it, and can endure sustained weight pressures as well as high falls with little to no damage. They are able to maintain life without air indefinitely, and survive without food or water for up to two months, before lapsing into a life-saving coma, which can last up to two more months before death. Gi-Syn-Yi forelimbs have grown to be thick and heavy, with dexterous fingers, tipped in claws that grow continuously through their lifespan, which are worn down only by their persistent digging. Most of them have four forelimbs and two hind legs. Utilizing all of their limbs, they can sprint quite quickly when pushed, but their gait is rather clumsy when walking on hind legs alone. Most could describe their appearances as similar to a number of insects-- beetles, millipedes, crickets, ants-- and their bodies are often a mix of limbs, colors, statures, and chitin patterns. Their varied bodies contribute to their dynamic adaptability and teamwork driven society. Though some often sport the horns or wings of their ancestors, the wings are usually fragile or immobile, as their capability to fly was lost in the genetics at some point. Their ability to heal is slow and amputation is common, as a means of reducing the pain and risk of infection with a wounded limb. Their bodies being punctured has a high mortality rate but this is a rare occurrence-- a special concoction, made of their own chitin, is used to seal their wounds; things to "clog" the puncture wound often work, if nothing else is available. Their ability to feel pain is lowered but when they feel it, the pain takes weeks to subside, if it ever does. They have to molt every three months, during which time they are vulnerable and soft for four days until hardening. Very strictly, they live only until sixty years have passed and no more-- always dying on the sunset of their sixtieth year. The chitinous outer bodies of the dead are re-purposed into weapons, medicines, or tools, with their soft inner body being placed in a mass grave, where they have piled their dead for centuries. This collective rotting is important, as the dead act as essential nutrients for the living. Physically, theres no distinction between genders among them. All Gi-Syn-Yi are capable of donating biological matter to construct an "egg". Collectively, their eggs are fertilized by the decaying corpse matter of their deceased, as a sort of mulch, that is leeched through the pliable egg surface. Conceptually, gender makes little sense to these extra planetary beings so, their understanding of it equates to "a societal role," and they often insist their genders are their job titles. As other creatures grapple with this, pronouns referring to Gi-Syn-Yi often dissolve into neutrality or calling them by honorifics, i.e. "The Jit." Intelligent, creative, and deeply loyal to their society, the Gi-Syn-Yi come to the surface reluctantly and rarely, as their eyesight is poor, and the light of the sun pains their eyes-- even torchlight is considered too bright. Scent, temperature perception, and hearing act as their primary senses. On the surface, they are veiled and usually wearing shaded lenses or darkening helmets. At the behest of their Hv-Jit-- the Leading Council-- whenever a matter of great importance occurs, they are sent to the surface to investigate. Usually, a representative or scout is sent alone but the occasional band of warriors or spies have emerged, much to the confusion of the "LOW INTELLIGENCE MEATSKINS" above. Some very few Gi-Syn-Yi can be found among Bone Clans or in New Kaimeria, taking very innocuous background roles as laborers or janitors, and secretly reporting their findings on the surface to their Council. Using their antennae, they can tune to different frequencies of sound in order to hear, and can hear great distances and through solid objects, if said objects are not too thick or sturdy. This makes their "spying" easier and a subvocal form of communication between them possible. Often, they bring with them odd inventions and curious trinkets, testing them on the surface or its people, before returning to Hv-Yit-Ki. As it stands, only the Gi-Syn-Yi themselves are capable of accessing their home beneath the bones, for they seal the entrance behind them, with nearly a mile's depth of sand and stone. For the Gi-Syn-Yi, the song of their ancestral home can quite literally be heard, calling them back to the cosmos. All of their conniving, inventing, and spying is for the sake of returning to that place beyond the stars. Bonus: NAMING CONVENTIONS Using the given name is considered "intimate" and should only be used by parents, close friends, or lovers. Meatskins usually only know them as two names-- the first and last-- unless they wish to have more formality, which means using only their job title. Job titles often change over the course of a Gi-Syn-Yi's life and they do what is best for their society without question. Elder title is earned at the age of 48 and ounglings mature into adults at age 3. Titles are quite literally pheromone scents that other Gi-Syn-Yi can detect within paces of eachother. Simultaneous title holding is possible-- limited to two-- in which case the job titles combine as a singular endname, with primary duty coming first. "Clutch Tender's Name"-"Given Name"-"Job" ex. Syif-Iekji-Yl -- Dual title Ex. Kify-Yiz-Vrxuk Job Titles Council Memeber -- Jit Warrior/Security -- Yl Scientist/Researchers -- Vrx Alchemist -- Xi Gatherer/Merchants-- Qrt Miner -- Uk Intelligence/Spies -- Zaj Advisor -- Kz Pathfinder/Scout -- Hyl Clutch Tender-- Tik Younglings -- Atz Elder -- Elj Maintenance/Laborers -- Fx

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The ... Gay Grove?}

Without a second thought, Mariah took Isla's hand, and trusted they would end up somewhere safe. Just before they left, Mariah caught a glimpse of the burning Beach house, and winced. She hadn't meant to set the whole damn thing on fire but hopefully that would help the situation... or something. Fires blazed then the forest quivered before her-- scenery abruptly shifting with Isla's teleport. Almost reflexively, at this point, Mariah reached out to catch Isla just before she could hit the ground, and ended up down there with her.

Well.

They were certainly out of danger, sort of. Where they were exactly could be anywhere. Mariah held isla in one arm as she pulled her phone out, then opened up Google maps. Around them was a forest and they were in the clearing but, for some reason, her phone signal didn't want to pull her location. Great. As quiet and seemingly safe as it was here, a sense of anxiety caused her hands to shake, as she went to lower Isla to the ground. Slowly, she paced about, praying to the Verizon gods for a signal-- the lone bar of cell service answered her prayer. Google's positioning wonked about as she stared at the map, with a deep sigh leaving her, and it sounded awfully loud. Her brows scrunched and she sighed again-- the noise far softer than before but she felt eyes upon her.

Had those monsters decided to cut through these woods on their way to Annabelle? Thick sloshing and splashing picked up from within the forest somewhere-- Mariah looked over her shoulder at the unconscious Isla-- the world flipped several times.

"Neigh," neighed a very distressed horse, with an air of familiarity, as it used Mariah as an off-ramp from the forest. "Whinny," came the freaked out noise of the horse, as it continued on it's stampede into the wood-line, leaving Mariah as a heap in the mood. As she lay on her side, Google locked in on her position, and she stared at her blue icon on her phone screen. All things considered, that could have gone far worse, had she not decided to wear her glamorous football helmet. Sure, her side was screaming in pain, as was her leg, but Isla didn't even get hit and she didn't get a third concussion.

Quickly, she sent her location as a text message to Max, and figured he was already locked in on it anyway. He was kind of a legend for knowing where she was and when, without her telling him, and Mariah figured he was just really good at guessing games. As it stood, Mariah decided she was in a rather comfortable position for a nap, anyway. Eventually, Max did arrive, and they scooped Isla into the car, as he lectured Mariah on all the danger in Tampa and other such concerns, keeping the lecture going allllllll the waaaaay to Miami.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Bitch House}

A lot of stuff can happen in two weeks. When the rest of the Coven fled back to Tampa, Mariah hadn't went with them, regardless of the danger. Sure. Maybe they'd murder her then steal her body, but then it wouldnt exactly be her problem, right? She'd be dead. On top of that, she didnt want Max to waste his gas money chasing her to Tampa, just so he could bring her back to Miami. That man had made it pretty clear that he didn't want her going nowhere until she saw a doctor.

Turns out, his fears were justified, and her doctor put her on bed rest for a week. As it turns out, bonking ones head on cement really didnt do the soft squishy noodles inside the skull any favors. For whatever reason, this was the same time Hector decided to go on an adventure, leaving her and Max alone to pay the damn rent.

So yeah, sure, Mariah was here at this Coven meeting but, this was the first time in a while that she could think clearly-- well enough to dig into her damn budgeting app. As she held her phone in one hand, crunching the numbers between her income and Max's, divided by food and fashion, she very dramaticaly fanned herself with the other, holding that huge fan of hers like a gentle southern damsel. Sweat was beading on her brow but Mariah refused to take off her bedazzled football helmet, for she was with the Coven, and they always managed to get her into a concussion causing situation.

Every slight tilt or movement of Mariah's head caused the stupid, plastic rhinestone covered, insult to sports equipment, to catch the light and surely send it BRIGHTLY beaming into someone's eyes, but she kept the football helmet on-- faceguard up and included. Her neon colored tie die crop top and black skirt contrasted wholly with the helmet, because who the hell wore something like this? She was seated on a deck chair, as discussion went on, and only barely registered the topic at hand.

After an odd linguistic display from Vashti, which kinda made her sound like she needed to shit, Mariah immediately cast her vote. "Whoever dyin' should have it unless they dyin' of the cancer-- unless the curse is the cancer. Whateva'," she contributed.