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vietmyke Member
STATUS: Stop being passive aggressive. Just be aggressive. 23 days ago
- Last Seen: 24 min ago
- Old Guild Username: vietmyke
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 3499 (0.88 / day)
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- vietmyke 11 yrs ago
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TaintedMushroom,
TrippyNightmare,
Deadlyrose9641,
BurnDaWitch,
FrostedCaramel,
Timuir,
TokyoPewPew,
Silly,
FourtyTwo
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23 days ago
Current
Stop being passive aggressive. Just be aggressive.
7
likes
1 yr ago
It is certainly not 'optimal', but it *is* doable, depending on what you want to do with it. You could go swords or valor bard and play them more like a warrior with some magical ability
2
likes
2 yrs ago
One might say your villain arc has begun. Embrace it.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Man do I love watching the circus
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Most Recent Posts
as someone who tends to fat thumb things on my phone, I can say that writing a post on your phone is definitely on my 'things I don't want to do' list :o
In
Priest & Hawthorne Investigations: A Modern Fantasy Adventure
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Will probably be remaking Jacob- modernize him a bit, as I've changed as a writer in these past few years, just a bit
In
Priest & Hawthorne Investigations: A Modern Fantasy Adventure
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
<3
:c
"To be fair, we probably wouldn't have given you a Stryx even if you had asked. It was more of a question about- nevermind." Emil sighed with an exasperated tone. To be honest, Emil hadn't expected to see such passion about anything other than drinking and whoreing from the young Baske boy. His words weren't entirely untrue either- the town was essentially defenseless when it came to the larger and more dangerous monsters, and they had to do something. Emil had just figured that it'd be someone else to decide to go figure it out. Maybe he had misjudged the Baske boy- or maybe Tristan was just batshit insane.
He looked to his hired guard, "Ah, well, what do you suppose we do with them, Tork?"
"I still say lop off their hands and call it a night."
Emil shrugged, he didn't know why he had asked. Tork was always eager to make examples out of thieves- and very few thieves ever tried to steal from the Aviary, mainly because taking a Stryx wasn't quite like taking a horse. A horse, so long as you had the reins, a bit and saddle would follow instructions. A stryx? Not so much, bonding with the birds took some time- hell, not even Tork could climb onto Greytail's back without the bird trying to gore his face with its beak. Emil waved Tork away, who with a huff, shouldered his crossbow and began walking back to the house. Emil gestured at the barn that Greytail had come out of- its door still ajar.
"Alright Baske, you want a place to stay, you can sleep in there. I'm fairly confident none of the Stryxes in that barn have developed a taste for human flesh yet." This was a bluff- in fact none of the Stryxes at the aviary had a taste for human flesh- one of the few perks of keeping them domesticated. They'd still claw and tear a man's arms and legs off, but they wouldn't eat him. "You too," he added, looking at the other boy- though this time it felt less like an invitation and more like a forceful suggestion.
"Greytail will keep an eye on you guys tonight. Goodnight."
He looked to his hired guard, "Ah, well, what do you suppose we do with them, Tork?"
"I still say lop off their hands and call it a night."
Emil shrugged, he didn't know why he had asked. Tork was always eager to make examples out of thieves- and very few thieves ever tried to steal from the Aviary, mainly because taking a Stryx wasn't quite like taking a horse. A horse, so long as you had the reins, a bit and saddle would follow instructions. A stryx? Not so much, bonding with the birds took some time- hell, not even Tork could climb onto Greytail's back without the bird trying to gore his face with its beak. Emil waved Tork away, who with a huff, shouldered his crossbow and began walking back to the house. Emil gestured at the barn that Greytail had come out of- its door still ajar.
"Alright Baske, you want a place to stay, you can sleep in there. I'm fairly confident none of the Stryxes in that barn have developed a taste for human flesh yet." This was a bluff- in fact none of the Stryxes at the aviary had a taste for human flesh- one of the few perks of keeping them domesticated. They'd still claw and tear a man's arms and legs off, but they wouldn't eat him. "You too," he added, looking at the other boy- though this time it felt less like an invitation and more like a forceful suggestion.
"Greytail will keep an eye on you guys tonight. Goodnight."
Since we're throwing out ideas for characters, I think I'm going to go with an imperial soldier defector, and either joined the Resistance or works as a merc for (and occasionally against) them.
Haio! I likey!
"Too many questions, not enough answers. Besides, according to the radio, a diplomatic mission was scheduled to arrive, but not for at least another day." Galahad replied idly as the others made their investigations and observations into the bodies and wreckage they had found. It wasn't a particularly long drive to the crash site, and the group of them had a modicum of armament procured from the Marshals. Gideon had snagged a rifle, Lori, a pistol. Barghast squad- aside from Zimmy, who was suffering from minor mist burn, and Gideon who had stopped to help, advanced on the crashed escape pod in a rough semblance of a formation. They were all on edge, what with the bodies, floating rubble, and oppressing mist around them. Galahad in particular was quite sensitive to the overwhelming amount of mist around them, in his mind's eye he could see rolling waves of translucent gas whisping around them.
Each of them viewed mist differently, some heard it, others like Galahad could see and feel the mist as though it were tangible and could be reached out and grabbed at by hand- which was probably why it came to Galahad so much easier than others. While the others investigated the burnt bodies and wreckage, Galahad stayed near the center of their formation, focusing on more important matters.
"Stop." Galahad grunted towards Setzer as an arm grabbed Setzer's shoulder and pushed him over a half step to the right. "Mist Spot." he said simply as a way of explanation.
To most, Mst was invisible, and hard to detect, and even those trained in detecting the Mist could find difficulty tracing it in such a Mist-Hot location- such as the crash they were currently investigating. Some or the larger pockets of Mist were easily recognizable: the floating rubble and intense heat were things that people could easily notice and avoid. The more difficult to spot plumes were the medium strength plumes of Mist. Their energies masked by the intense heat of the crash itself, the Mist spots, while not as deadly as walking face first into a Mist spike, were much more dangerous due to their difficulty to spot and side-effects. Mist burn was an injury commonly experienced by search and rescue crews- and was often their cause of death. Much like radiation, absorbing too much Mist from these invisible plumes would cause nausea and could destroy the body quickly if left untreated.
It also made the use of energy based and ranged spells problematic. A lightning bolt could set off a stray pocket of Mist, and then they'd all be in danger. And since detecting some these Mist pockets were difficult for even dedicated mages, it effectively gimped the range that they could safely fling spells. More of a problem for himself than any of the other members of the team, as no one else was a dedicated spell slinger, at least not in the same vein as himself.
The escape pod was actually a fairly ornate looking thing- or at least it was supposed to be. Much like the rest of this ship, everything about these Vangars seemed to be for form over function: The Class A uniforms, the oppulent ship, hell even the escape pod seemed to have been gilded with some sort of golden metal. It would've been quite nice to look at it it wasn't scorched black, dented to hell and half slagged. Galahad found it hard to believe anything actually survived this fall, but Lori had detected life, so this was their first and best shot at finding out what the hell was going on.
Galahad grabbed at the door of the escape pod- or what was left of it. The handle- hinges, and most of the door itself had been slagged shut. Taking a moment to take stock of the mist around him, Galahad opened his mind's eye. He grabbed at the smallest whisps of mist he could find and weaved them into the door. There was a dull crack, and small bits of metal showered them as the lines of the doorway peaked out of the slagged surface. Taking a step back, he clapped a hand on Setzer's shoulders.
"Alright big guy, your turn."
Each of them viewed mist differently, some heard it, others like Galahad could see and feel the mist as though it were tangible and could be reached out and grabbed at by hand- which was probably why it came to Galahad so much easier than others. While the others investigated the burnt bodies and wreckage, Galahad stayed near the center of their formation, focusing on more important matters.
"Stop." Galahad grunted towards Setzer as an arm grabbed Setzer's shoulder and pushed him over a half step to the right. "Mist Spot." he said simply as a way of explanation.
To most, Mst was invisible, and hard to detect, and even those trained in detecting the Mist could find difficulty tracing it in such a Mist-Hot location- such as the crash they were currently investigating. Some or the larger pockets of Mist were easily recognizable: the floating rubble and intense heat were things that people could easily notice and avoid. The more difficult to spot plumes were the medium strength plumes of Mist. Their energies masked by the intense heat of the crash itself, the Mist spots, while not as deadly as walking face first into a Mist spike, were much more dangerous due to their difficulty to spot and side-effects. Mist burn was an injury commonly experienced by search and rescue crews- and was often their cause of death. Much like radiation, absorbing too much Mist from these invisible plumes would cause nausea and could destroy the body quickly if left untreated.
It also made the use of energy based and ranged spells problematic. A lightning bolt could set off a stray pocket of Mist, and then they'd all be in danger. And since detecting some these Mist pockets were difficult for even dedicated mages, it effectively gimped the range that they could safely fling spells. More of a problem for himself than any of the other members of the team, as no one else was a dedicated spell slinger, at least not in the same vein as himself.
The escape pod was actually a fairly ornate looking thing- or at least it was supposed to be. Much like the rest of this ship, everything about these Vangars seemed to be for form over function: The Class A uniforms, the oppulent ship, hell even the escape pod seemed to have been gilded with some sort of golden metal. It would've been quite nice to look at it it wasn't scorched black, dented to hell and half slagged. Galahad found it hard to believe anything actually survived this fall, but Lori had detected life, so this was their first and best shot at finding out what the hell was going on.
Galahad grabbed at the door of the escape pod- or what was left of it. The handle- hinges, and most of the door itself had been slagged shut. Taking a moment to take stock of the mist around him, Galahad opened his mind's eye. He grabbed at the smallest whisps of mist he could find and weaved them into the door. There was a dull crack, and small bits of metal showered them as the lines of the doorway peaked out of the slagged surface. Taking a step back, he clapped a hand on Setzer's shoulders.
"Alright big guy, your turn."
Any illusion spells that give them a human visage?
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