Avatar of Varshanka

Status

Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current Somewhere between Heaven and Hell

Bio

So if you've made it this far you have an interest in me and my writing.

I'm human, unfortunately.
I prefer cats and dogs over humans. They just don't start drama. Well cats do, but that's just being a cat.
If I had a choice, I'd be dead. But I've tried that, and it didn't work out.

I write on several forum groups under a couple different names.

I will never give my Real Name, my Gender and opinions on that will not be revealed.
I've never cared what anyone I write with is. As long as you write in English and well it doesn't matter.

Although there are times when I wish an Alien/Angel/Demon/mutant/Werewolf/Vampire would come to my house and say "We need to talk"

Yes, I've died. Like full on CPR resurrection dead. God kicked me out.

Most Recent Posts

Location: Great Hall, Hogwarts
Present:
Liam Wallox @World Traveler,
Miles Kennedy @Thayr,
Kaiden “Kai” Devarron @Herald,
Antonio Cifaretto @Eviledd1984,
Alvis Juneberry Hawes @MrSkimobile,

“Although I excelled at Dark Arts when I was a students and I had a ‘natural talent’ according to my teacher. And I did some tutoring as a student, I’ve never actually taught before.”

‘Tutoring as a student’ was a gross understatement. The only reason half the Griffindoors, and Hufflepuffs passed was because she helped them. She’d done so well and done so much extra work in Dark Arts that she had the highest scores ever in that class. Granted it meant she’d never seen a Quidditch Match, or dated, or kissed. But that didn’t matter. Being the best mattered. Not disappointing the teacher and Headmaster mattered. Or her family.

But I do hope that I do well teaching the class. I almost Chose Mystic Animals. I have a rather large collection of Dragon Scales. I hope to collect one of each species. They've all fallen off Naturally – when they’ve molted. From yearling to Juvenile. I’d never take one from a Dragon, that would be incredibly rude, and would hurt.”

“What is… Bar Hopping? Do you make the Bars Hop? I thought Magic in the presence of Muggles was Illegal? Much like that car incident years ago.”

“Is that alcohol? I’m sure it’s not allowed. Especially with students still on campus.” As she spoke an owl flew in and dropped a package in front of her before leaving. Quickly unwrapping it she held the object inside up. A rather ornate box carved with images and native script, Setting it back on the table Taener lifted the lid and looked inside. “Merlin’s Beard!, it’s a new scale and … an egg shell..” Grabbing the letter inside she quickly read.

“Tænar I’ve heard f your interest and send this to you for your research. A Ukrainian Ironbelly Recently hatched and from another we managed to collect a scale as it molted. Sorry it’s not from the belly but is one of the smaller tail scales. But it was in a bit of a mood and we didn’t wish to endanger anyone.”
“Sincerely, Maxim Antonova - Master Keeper of the Dragons.”

“I have a new shell for my collection!?” she said, nearly squealing like student. “He hadn’t been ready to molt yet when I was there, And I’d asked to be notified, but never expected them to send it to me. And such a beautiful display case for it as well. I’ll have to write Maxim a thank you letter later.”

Showing the gifts to everyone interested, and even a few not interested, Tænar started babbling about all the dragons she’s seen, and the ones she helped shed their Yearling scales. Usually one used a wire brush for the tail and a hammer for the back, sometimes a dragon shed like a snake, others shed one scale at a time. There were a few that didn’t shed at all, simply dding new scales as they grew older.
never played fallout, so i have no clue/history with anything but i know it' a post nuke fallout game. spent 5 minute watching someone else play one of he games and hated the combat system. Have't seen teh show either. but i'm willing to give it a whirl.
if you are still looking for characters I have spacce on my table to going another campaign...
id be willing to slip a character in if you're still looking
ok

I get bored waiting a week for anybody to post. so i throw something out t keep things.. well active.

but i'll stop writing them.
1888
East End, White Chapel District, London, England

Nine dead.

The paper were calling him Jack the Ripper, or the Ripper. Didn’t matter reall, he wasn't even jack. He was Billy Claiborne.

After leaving Arizona he’d hit the east coast and then London. He’d settled down for a little bit before he’d gotten the itch again. Billy was really into it, shooting people and such was a turn on for him.

After they’d arrived here he’d fucked ever whore he could convince that American’s were better. To bad Kalan was taking names and addresses.

And lately Kalan had been going through the whores in the same order as Billy, jut a year after him. To the day. Even the ‘double homicide’ Billy had been horny that night.

Now the city was in fear, the cops had their heads up their asses, and Kalan had already booked passage to France.

The door on the apartment blow open under the pressure of a celestial boot, the man following through with a sureness of motion as Kalen/Billy fell backwards, the tip of the blade missing his face by a measurement one day called a millimeter. But for this time it was called the breathe of a butterfly’s wings. Scrabbling across the floor he evaded the sword, barely, several times he was so lucky and took some light cuts. FUCK!

Kicking a chair he knocked into the man’s legs long enough for Billy/Kalan to stand and access the situation. Who was this fucking fuck?!

“You’re easy to follow,” The man said, his sword barely moving.

“EARP?!” Billy shouted.

“True Enough, Billy Claiborne. True enough.”

“Shit!” Billy said as he ran for a window and dived through it, not even looking to see if it was safe first. Sword or brick, either killed the same. And he’d rather take a brick. That sword was permanent.

Hitting the ground bad Kalan/Billy limped as fast as he could, getting to the crowded area’s as fast as he could and avoiding death. Earp was just another name that son of a bitch had gone by. And the asshole didn’t have the decency to die!
i like presents more than cash from dm's
first OOC post tells us our cash
20th year of the Reign of Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus
Mikha'el

Standing guard at the foot of the Cross The Roman soldier stared blankly ahead. His thoughts his own as he watched the crowd. The scowl on his face kept people back, but he wasn’t mad at them, he didn’t want to be here, guarding HIM. Why was he being punished?

At five he’d been taken into slavery for the Roman legions. Before he was ten he’d started training as a soldier. The brainwashing was good, but not for him. He’d maintained his mind and loyalties to YHWH, avoiding all but the required subservience to the false ones. Even then he managed to take extra duties to avoid prayers to false gods.

Twenty years he’d serves, at 21 years he was done, freed from service and a citizen of the Empire. Less than six months togo.Six months later n it would have been another soldier here on this day. He didn’t even have to be here today but he’d shifted duties with another weeks ago so he could go pray to his gods, and Mikha'el wouldn’t be required to attend.

“I know your name,” he heard from behind him. Turning to look he saw HIM, the light from the Sun blinding his as he looked up.

“Mikha'el,” He said. “It is time, It must be done.”

Thrusting his spear upwards he pierced the side of He Who Had Come! The ground shook as if a hudred elephants were stomping as one, the sky turned to night and the men and women wailed.

Looking upon HIS face he realized he was gone. An empty form was there now.

He was there when the stone rolled back, the two luminous beings watching him as it moed. Neither touhed it but he knew they were doing it. Magic, their minds, the will of god. It mattered not, the ropes tore themselves in twain and HE stepped forth.

The light was beyond measure, and he couldn’t see for several days after, “Please Lord,” he Mikha'el said, expecting and awaiting Judgment.

“Not yet,” HE had said. “You’ll go home soon, but not today. Your duty I give, to fight evil and slay the fallen where you find them. Until the end of your days.”

And so he had done. If the Order counted his kills the way pilots in WW II had, they’d have given up. Many had been weak, so many had been weak. Some harder and more skilled tha others. Some had even had foul magics, powers gifted from the dark one to advance their dark cause.

But he’d survived, fighting on. Moving as needed to avoid accusations of dark magic and Youthful appearance. Not that he looked young. He’d stopped aging at around Twenty-five. Technically he’d stopped aging the Day Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist and had come into HIS power.

"....."
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet