Excited to get going. @JohnSolaris Are we going to have an IRC channel for this RP?
whist
Member
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 57 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- whist 10 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
My name is Collin, and I'm a student finishing up a degree in Computer Science from a California University. I'm lucky enough to have most of my roleplay happen in meatspace - I've played Earthdawn, Shadowrun, many flavors of D&D including Pathfinder, Ars Magica, Vampire, Star Wars (D20 and Edge of Empire), Numenera, and one bizarre session of a homebrew Fallout RPG. I really enjoy both reading and writing (as Djikstra said, "mastery of one's native tongue is the most vital asset of a competent programmer"). As far as cyberspace RP'ing goes, I've participated in a moderate amount of play-by-post RP at various sites. I like new spins on fantasy/sci-fi (especially weird combinations which is what drew me to Numenera). Anyway, enough talk about myself. I hope to RP with you soon.
Most Recent Posts
EDIT: 7/15 2:40 PM PST - Put in a hider for easier navigation.
Just to let you know, I'm interested and reading through your doc/beginning a CS now :)
I'd like to put forward my interest in the Physician. I'll start brainstorming some character concepts.
Sounds interesting, I'd like to see where this goes.
The Depths of Lake Sharzunates, Malebazus
5 minutes prior to the Fall of Aroesus
Death. The word called to Paichnidi, a siren's song ringing across the black, suffocating void of Sharzunates. For hundreds of years he had yearned for release from his imprisonment, to return to the realm of light and sanity far above. He remembered the feeling of warmth on his face, the warm glow of another's presence, and the thrill of a well played contest. Now all he hoped for was death, the possibility of absolution for his alleged crimes a laughable fantasy. True death: return to the unbeing that comes before birth. Death would, however, not heed his call, for it is not an easy task to kill a god. That was the nature of Sharzunates, as he had come to learn; it drains and feeds off power, but leaves just enough to continue on, breath after agonizing breath. He was weaker than a mortal, but denied the respite of perishing like one. Paichnidi envied them, with their simple, short lives. Envied them almost as much as he hated Aroesus. That hatred had been the only thing holding his mind together through his tenure as a permanent fixture of the divine prison. It was a white hot, glowing point of focus. His physical form had withered; his once handsome face was now lined with what felt to be an eternity of torment, his body was weak and fragile. His mind, however, was strong - well fed on a rage that had faded little. But, to an observer, he was a broken god: a relic of another time, devoid of followers and influence. Few would remember him as he once was, if they remembered him at all. Trusted counsel to the King, careful politican, master strategist. Once there were great games played in his honor; mortals, demigods, and gods alike came to him, hoping to be favored with wisdom. He laughed bitterly. "Empty nostalgia is a pitiful thing," he thought. "You are nothing. Remember that. Nothing above nor below."
He gazed into the formless void around him. Many years ago it had appeared as a cell, dank and damp, the floor covered with the putrid water of the lake and surrounded by the whispers of those imprisoned with him. As his penance dragged on, it began to lose shape as he lost his grip on reality. He retreated further into his mind, into plans and stratagems, carefully laid and considered, plans of revenge and retribution. Eventually his cell lost all corporeal form and instead played out the torments of his mind in spectres before him, a canvas of nightmares. As much as he ruminated, he could never hold the details of a scheme in his memory long enough to bring it to fruition. He suspected this was another quality of his jail; it taunted him with the glimmer of escape then stole it quietly way, leaving him questioning his sanity. He saw replayed infinitely before him Proditus' deception and betrayal. Paichnidi had been outwitted, outplayed. Lost at his own game. He knew somehow, the King of the Gods was behind it. And that was the true source of his ire, far more than his exile to Sharzunates. He had lost. He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep as he had done countless times before, knowing it would not come.
And then he felt it. Sharzunates shuddered, and then it groaned. The void around him began to swirl as if agitated, dark spirals forming and twisting in their depths. If any had been there to witness it, they would have seen Paichnidi's dull eyes suddenly burst into a dark green. "Could it be?" The shaking intensified, the darkness around him swirling faster. Was it growing lighter? He felt as if a pressure was slowly lifting off of him, a pressure he had not know to even be present. He began to slowly feel his way through the now grey mist, willing himself to move forward. His feet found cold, damp stone. He moved faster, waiting for the whip of one of Sharzunates' dread guards to fall, sending him back into oblivion. But no crack came, no sound of condemnation slicing through the air. He stopped. Slowly and painfully, he tensed the long unused muscles in his face, his lips pulling back and cracking into a bloody smile. He closed his eyes and lowered himself to lie upon the cold stone. He slept.
~At the waning of the second age of Divinity, Aroesus, whose father was Ventu, King of the Gods and Final Arbiter of Krona, was slain.
Paichnidi awoke to words that were not his own echoing in his mind, words that were swiftly replaced by the sounds of sheer chaos around him. Keeping his eyes closed, he stood up and probed out with his awareness as he had not done in thousands of years. There were many lives around him, god, demigod, and ascended mortal alike. Some struggled, overwhelmed by their newfound freedom, and lashed feebly with their slowly returning power. Others were quietly in shock. Paichnidi turned his back on them, and sought privacy among mists now speared sporadically with shafts of light from above. He knew he was near the surface. He angled his face upwards, feeling warmth on his aged skin for the first time in what felt to be an eternity. He willed a white robe onto his nude form, and a simple wooden staff to lean on. Such a trivial expression of power. It was the most exquisite moment of his existence. He knew he lacked the strength to break the surface, but it was only a matter of time. Someone would come, they always do. Someone would venture into Sharzunates from above, to herald the good news, or to sate their morbid curiosity at what remained in the gods' underworld. And then he would come to them, a weak old god with robe and staff, appearing nothing like the young, handsome, and quick-witted advisor of so many years ago, dressed in fine clothes and speaking words of comfort and guidance to the young and naive. He would come to them and they would take pity on him. He would return with them, up out of Malebazus, up to Lake Miphas and his empty and cold estate. And then the game would begin again. This time, he would make sure to have the winning hand. Paichnidi sat, eyes closed, smile serene, and waited. You are nothing. For now.
My first post will be coming soon.
<Snipped quote by whist> The thought of our characters being closely affiliated quite interests me. On top of other ideas and reasons, I think it'd be quite interesting for you to have at least one friend/ally whose been on the outside this whole time. I'll be PMing you later today with brainstormed ideas and the like. :D I'll be PMing Terminal with cooperative history in mind as well, still thinking about a few others.I like that idea as well, I'm going to give your sheet a close re-read and I await your PM. I'll start brainstorming some possibilities too.
Still here, ready and waiting. Anyone who wants to collaborate, just let me know. I know Paichnidi probably won't have a history with most because of his past.
© 2007-2024