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Aythr member of RPG for 14 years

Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Completionist Lifegiver Tipworthy

37,930 words written.
264 total posts.
144 words per post.
66 posts per roleplay.
127 average days in a roleplay.
4 universes joined.
6.75 INK received in tips.

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Thu Jul 09, 2009 12:27 am
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Wed Aug 17, 2011 9:29 pm
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Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

Created your first topic!



Wrote your first piece in a universe!



Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!

Friendly Beginnings

Friendly Beginnings

You posted your first topic in the Welcome Forum.



Helped write the story of a universe that survived until the end (marked as "Completed") and was published to the Library.



Created a character in an RPG universe.



Awarded for receiving your first tip from another user!

Completed Stories

The Gift: Chapter Two Completed

[COMPLETE] With the gods dead and dragons slowly spreading their dominion over the land, will you fight for something? Or die with nothing?

Insurrection Completed

[Closed] In a futuristic world where megacities are run by corporations with private police forces, crime runs rampant in the streets. Superpowered humans gather together, some to fight organized crime, others to take down the enigmatic MortixCorp.

Most Tipped Posts

0.25 INK received for post #1446633, located in Norr:

"Line up scrubs!'

That was all Duran needed to hear. He was accustom to the shrill, commanding voice of halflings; Most of his life was spent within forty yards of one for no less than five minutes at any given time. The druid seemed to stand out like a tree in the forest. The hood of his olive-green cloak was thrown up over his head as to give, at the very least, his race a degree of anonymity. Humans were becoming harder and harder to find these days, and Duran didn't feel like becoming a statistic, let alone a dragon's toothpick. Subtly, his eyes shifted beneath his cloak, having a look at the assortment of mismatched recruits.

"How many people here came out from underground?" he thought.

"Duran Cidovan. We have three medics now, so you're with me."

Duran's ears perked up at the sound of his own name. He was relieved to learn that he'd be with Captain Liu-Wen, since halflings tended to have a cruel sense of humor when it came to bossing people around. He did take note that his faithful wolf, Goma, was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in the woods, hunting for some small animal to turn into their next meal. In any case, she would be close.

"Now leave."

Duran's straightened posture immediately relaxed, and he began to think about the squad assignments. He counted eleven members in his squad, not including Captain Liu-Wen or his own animal friend Goma the Wolf. Notably, there was a "gifted" armor-clad Lamia, a Human Berserker whose reputation appeared to precede him, and a Deep Human whose shield appeared to be important to him, at the very least. It appeared as though he was not going to be a front-line member of this squad, although he didn't necessarily wish to be.

As Duran turned around and headed into Laeral to spend the night, he put his thumb and pointer in his mouth, and let loose a loud whistle as he walked. A rather large, female wolf jumped out of the woods, a dead rabbit in its jaws. Goma had caught something, it seemed. Duran rolled his eyes, and kept walking.

As he entered, he made a mental note of where each building was. It was assumed that they would all stay at the inn for the night, however Duran was not one for comfy lodging or ale. He began to set up a small camp outside the inn and around the corner. Goma dropped the rabbit and sat down, wagging her scruffy tail, as Duran set up a fire and pot for a rabbit stew. He began skinning the rabbit with a few druidic prayers, thanking nature for its bounty before dropping tender rabbit morsels in the pot with a few vegetables that seemed to appear from Duran's cloak. This adventure was going to be interesting, to say the least.

The smell of rabbit stew wafted out from behind the Inn, and Duran let out a sigh or relief as he stirred the pot.

0.25 INK received for post #1475071, located in Norr:

Duran was still shaking from his dream when Goma pawed her way out of the tent. She gave a whimper to assess the state of her master, and nudged his arm with her nose, allowing it to rest on her snout for a moment. Duran immediately snapped back to reality, and bent down and pecked Goma on the nose with his lips.

"Just a bad.." He hesitated for a second, not sure what word was best to describe it. "Just a dream, girl. Just a dream."

Suddenly, a loud voice resonated over the encampment.

"This is General Derenthi of the Legion of Ashes. Every unit not assigned to this outpost is required to report to the bonfire located in the middle of the tent masses immediately."

Duran looked back at his own tent, and then noticed that the voice was closer than it sounded. He got up and headed towards the center of the tents, not realizing that the clearing was so close to his own tent.

"Saves us a walk, at least." he thought.

As he arrived on the spot, he noticed that not many were there. The orcs had arrived just before him, missing a member of the family. Duran gritted his teeth and tried not to think too much about it. Shortly after, the harpies showed up, and then the Lamia with a halfling. He couldn't seem to recall the halfling's name or even her face, but he expected that considering the social distance he put between him and the rest of the legion. After that, the coming members seemed to be all one big blur.

At the center of them all was a Deep Human. Pins and medals adorned his armor. As a druid, he wasn't sure exactly what this meant, but he could at least figure that it meant they were standing before a very high ranking member of The Legion. Before Duran could think any more, the man spoke.

"Contrary to popular belief, the fortieth legion is not for rejects or oddities. It is a test. Those of you standing here are made of something greater than the average soldier...we simply needed some assurance that we were not mistaken in that assumption. The battle you just faced? A measure of your abilities. Do you think it is every day a legion of twenty-two fends off an assault three times their size? An assault comprised of combatants that are equal to three men each? Who can breath magical flames and tear a man apart with their bare hands? The answer is no. Had you been a normal unit, I would not be having the honor of speaking to you today.

It all suddenly dawned on Duran. They knew. They knew all along that the fortieth was probably being sent to their deaths. It was only by luck, skill, or some combination of them all that he and everybody else was alive. The rage began to well up inside him, and he fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs that this man would have sooner seen the fortieth dead. He was actually glad he didn't have a weapon on him.

"It is my pleasure, to announce that you, newest members of the Legion of Ashes, have all been promoted. You are now apart of the Black Guard: The Vanguard unit of the Legion of Ashes."

Duran didn't know what that meant, and he hardly cared. He fought back the anger, and slowly the boiling rage became a simmer.

Suddenly, portals appeared behind the man, and from them a great deal of metal monstrosities. Some of them were carrying carts adorned with sheets, only to pull them away at the behest of Nhil. Upon the carts, all kinds of different items, from armor, to weapons, potions, and other assorted gear that, presumably, he would be taking with him into the next slaughter that this insane Deep Human had planned.

Wrath spoke next.

"In ten days the invasion upon the dragon-controlled territory will begin. We will cross the mountains dividing east and west Norr, and bring the fight to the dragons."

Duran fought the urge to scream once more at the insanity of this plan. Suddenly an image of him running himself through with a spear crossed his mind. Probably a less gruesome fate than whatever the dragons might have in mind. Duran came back to reality just in time for another portal to open, this one spewing forth several new forms.

Sarish Tal'Asir! Lamian cleric...oooh! That's rare, what's the name of the angel you venerate? Who's-"

Sarish let out a low hiss at the idea that a book was about to speak aloud his patron's name before being forced through the portal. As he passed through, he noted a circle of legionnaires. His characteristic smile formed on his lips, and he brushed his hair back. Immediately after he appeared, he heard his name.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." he said out loud with considerable smug and oozing an almost sickening amount of charisma. He slithered past and took a spot in the crowd next to the elven woman he had entered the portal with. He looked at her up and down, and raised an eyebrow. It was probably a good idea to keep his thoughts to himself for now.

Before Sarish realized it, they were cheering for some reason that he had not been paying attention to, though he did catch something about a pay raise.

Now get some sleep, it's late.

"Come now, it's far too late for sleep." Sarish thought to himself.

Duran walked back to his tent and sat down with Goma upon dismissal. He knew why he was angry, but he began to question himself.

"This is what I wanted, right? This is what we wanted, Goma. To get rid of those dragons. By any means necessary. I'm done moping around. The destruction of the dragons. It is our new objective, Goma. It was always our objective. I'm done being sorry, sad, and angry. We're going to do this, because if we don't, it is the end of us all, and I won't stand around feeling sorry for myself, waiting for the end. We will face it, Goma, and to Hell with what happens next."

Goma's tail wagged as a striking look of determination appeared on Duran's face.

0.25 INK received for post #1501092, located in Norr:

Duran gritted his teeth as he headed towards the dragon Jakanther. It seemed that three legionnaires could keep it occupied, but Duran was relatively sure that it wasn't because the dragon was unable to utterly destroy any of them with one of its massive claws. There was no doubt that getting smacked by one of them was a death sentence without immediate medical attention. It was lucky then, that Sarish was following behind him. Though he had left first, Sarish found his speed relatively stunted compared to Duran's, whose long legs gave him a quick stride that would be the envy of any of the deer from the forest in which he had grown.

Duran began to mull around attack strategies in his head as both he and Sarish closed in on their target. It would be key to try and keep it on the ground, with the secondary objective of disabling its ability to attack. Of course, the beast's head was a particular cause of worry, between the teeth and the fiery breath that the species was known for. Then again, If these dragons had the ability to breath fire, they probably would have done so by now. There was no doubt that one well places blast of fire would take care of their intruder problem. Regardless, he made a quick mental note not to stand in front of the beast's head, or it's tail, for that matter.

A thought quickly entered his mind. The Darkguards. They could be immensely helpful in at least neutralizing the dragon's attacks while the legionnaires finished it off. However, it seemed that his own personal darkguard was nowhere to be found.

"Sarish!" he yelled back, "Where is your darkguard?"

"Good question." Sarish responded dryly.

"We gotta get them here and get them on that dragon! Hold its legs, keep its mouth shut, anything!" Duran said, huffing.

"Well, then think about it." Sarish wasn't exhausted at all, though he was in much heavier armor. It seemed being able to slither instead of stride had advantages all its own.

Duran felt like an idiot, though he wasn't sure exactly an expert on giant magical constructs. Quite the opposite, in fact. "Then think about your darkguard beating the living crap out of that dragon!" he shouted back to Sarish, as he did the same thing.

"Darkguard, we need assistance. Attack the dragon I'm looking at. More specifically, do anything you can to keep it on the ground or to cripple its attacks." He wasn't sure that it would work. He expected it not to since he couldn't see his obsidian protector, although he hoped that the magic used to control them was potent enough to carry at least a mile.

As the druid and the cleric made their way towards the dragon, the enemy forces seemed to become more lively. More and more enemy combatants seemed to pop out of nowhere in the same way a family of rabbits would. Hopefully it wouldn't take very long to dispatch them, but hope was in short demand these days. At least four weapon-brandishing city guards blocked their way, one of them wearing a white robe.

Duran growled. Literally. His canines began to grow, and fur began to sprout from his body. He face cracked and formed a snout, and his entire form began to grow massive bulk. Sarish raised a brow, but quickly decided that it would be better not to ask anything. Mid-run, Duran got down on all fours, and his now massive limbs shortened. As all his equipment merged with his new form, Sarish realized what had just happened. This was one of the abilities that druids were well known for.


Duran collided with the wall of foes, now in the massive form of a bear. His new hide would offer about the same protection as his armor would against the weapons, but he decided that the Child of Fire in the group was the biggest problem. Duran charged the Child, his massive paw catching him before he had time to react. He was thrown to the ground, knocking another of the guards onto his backside. Without hesitation, Duran landed on the Child's chest with both massive paws, and without a thought, encompassed the Child's head with his jaws. A quick crunch was all that was heard, as the sheer force of his bite cracked the Child's skull. He tried to yell for assistance, though it was cut short by a quick jerk of Duran's own head. The two guards still standing jumped on Duran's new form, though Sarish quickly caught up to the fray.

Sarish let loose his spiked maul, colliding with one of the guard's heads with his favorite sound: A cracked skull.

The other guard did not hesitate, and plunged his short sword into Duran's large thigh. The sheer bulk of his form seemed to prevent most of the damage, though he still let out a stifled roar of pain through the head of the now half-decapitated child. He reared back and smacked the guard with his bear claw, ripping the calf from one of his legs. He fell to the ground in agony and the inability to further support his own form on more then one leg as Sarish lended his maul to the mans head, ending his suffering once and for all.

The final guard, finally getting back to his feet, quickly reared back and held out a now quivering sword.

Duran let out a furious roar, the thick scent of blood on his breath.

"That means run away." Sarish quipped.

The man did the opposite, and was quickly met with a claw to head, sending him reeling to the ground once more, this time landing on his chest. He tried to turn over, but by then it was too late. Duran was on top of the poor man, as his fate was not unlike the Child before him, his head encompassed in a deadly, toothed vice.

"Uh, I think we should get going. That dragon won't kill itself." Sarish said.

Duran grunted in agreement, and left the massacre behind, his heavy paws thudding against the ground as both the Druid and the Cleric continued on their way. A small limp was evident in Duran's left thigh where the guard had pierced him, though he wasn't bleeding heavily, it was still uncomfortable. There was little doubt that a blow like that to his human form would have done considerably more damage. He stayed in his animal form for now. It would be useful for barreling through any more enemies that were to appear, though he would probably have to discard it once not having thumbs became a loss of advantage.

Meanwhile, the darkguard that both Sarish and Duran had left behind became active, obeying the distant mental command of their charges, and heading towards the dragon. They would probably reach it before their masters did, though it would hopefully be enough to keep the dragon occupied until Duran and Sarish arrived to back up their fellows. They charged onward towards there targets, each of them praying.

Sarish prayed that the dragon would kill itself, while Duran prayed that the dragon would not be dead by the time he got to it.

0.25 INK received for post #1530724, located in Norr:

Shortly after the men who had brought Goma had left, Duran shuffled back in to his tent to tend to her once more. He sat down on the ground, and she hobbled over to him, landing her head softly on Duran's lap as her legs seemed to give way. He stroked her head, and thought quietly for a few minutes. Goma was too weak to do anything but accept the gentle stroke of her master, and simply lay there, waiting for Duran's next move. Another minute or so later, Duran broke the silence.

"I've decided, Goma. You can't be here anymore."

Goma looked up at Duran dejectedly, as if his words had done caused more pain than any of her other injuries.

"It was stupid of me to let you join with me. You're a wild animal. War is not your place, and I can't ask you to be a part of it any longer. It was stupid of me to subject you to my burdens to begin with, but I had foolishly overlooked it until now. This is not your fight, and it is not your war."

Goma whimpered pitifully, hoping to garner sympathy, as if to say, "Why would you reject me like this?"

Duran response to the animal was uncanny, a true sign that he was a druid.

"I'm not rejecting you. I love you like a sister or a mother. That's why I can't let you continue on with me. Your life is short, and so much can come from it. I could not bear to see you cut down. Telling you to go hurts more than any pain I've ever felt, but the only thing that could be worse was if you died."

Goma combined a grunt with a whimper, a curious sound that seemed to say to Duran, "I have to protect you."

"No. It is not your place to defend me from what I've chosen to do. I can't ask you to stay here." Tears began to well up in Duran's eyes again.

"You must return home. Go back and tell them I'm well. I'm sure they're worried. Go back home and live the life that you deserve."

"Alright. I count eight of us who can see well in darkness. Duran, that includes you. Just shift into something...make it fast, we want speed more than anything."

Duran was still a little distracted from what had happened earlier, but he had convinced himself that it was for the best. Besides, it was time to focus. Duran immediately had mental images of what animals would be best for this situation. Among the smaller mammals, there wasn't anything particularly lethal, besides maybe a temperamental badger, and that wasn't very fast. A predatory cat would be best until a full-blown battle broke out. A panther seemed perfect. Its black coat was good camouflage in the night, and its eyes were made for poorly lit environments.

"Coat your weapons with this. The rain won't wash it away, so don't worry about that. We're aiming for speed here, so all you need is a nick and the count of three before your opponent is having sweet dreams."

Duran scowled as the Captain held up the poison vials. There wasn't much he could do with it if he stayed in his animal form. Obviously, he wouldn't be able to pour it on his claws, and even if he could, pouring poison onto one's self was probably not a good idea, especially if it was Snakesglove. Duran had some experience with this particular plant. Some of the more medically inclined druids used it as a sedative in its raw form. As a poison there was little doubt that it was quite a bit more dangerous. He took the vial, and decided against using it despite Wrath's battle plan.

Quickly and silently the transformation took hold. Coarse black hair began to sprout, and hands turned to paws and teeth into fangs. Armor and weapons alike melded with flesh, as the form of the panther overcame Duran's human form. He landed on all fours, ready at a moments notice to attack. It wasn't even a second after his transformation was complete that Wrath had taken off into the camp, leading the way for the Vanguard's attack. Though Wrath's attack was more direct, Duran stayed hidden in the grass, as if the instincts of the big cat had taken over. He peered through the tall grass, waiting to leap out and pounce on an enemy at the first sign of anything going awry.

Sarish didn't exactly like the battle plan. Though poison wasn't outside of his vernacular as a Lamia, he definitely preferred the feeling of skull on mace. There was more assurance to it than poison. At any rate, however, he would comply until the time came that he could crack a few skulls. Sarish took one of the vials, and unsheathed one of his ceremonial bloodletting daggers; It wasn't really a weapon for combat, but it was the best he could do considering that all his other weapons were blunt. Wrath's sudden take-off caught Sarish off guard. He had been given orders to stay with the captain, but he had taken off so quickly that there was little he could do but keep up. In the time that Wrath had taken out any number of cultists, Sarish had only cut deep into three or four. It was a tad more difficult to fight with a dagger than the swords that Wrath was using. He resisted the urge to slit a few throats; Sarish had decided that it would probably defeat the purpose of the poison.

He closed the gap between himself and Wrath as the rest of the unit followed the Commander's charge.

0.25 INK received for post #1450101, located in Norr:

Duran stuck a wooden bowl in his pot of now-cooked rabbit stew, ladling in as many large pieces of meat that he could with the vegetables he had collected from the woods not a day before. He was a druid after all, and druids didn't just survive off the land; They thrived on it. He did feel a little bit of a guilty pleasure when it came to eating meat, however. Though it wasn't against any of his druidic tenants, it wasn't something his family would be thrilled to see. Without utensils, he sipped, slurped, and chewed his stew from the bowl while Goma watched, drooling. Duran looked over at his wolf, and rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Here you go, girl."

Duran offered Goma his bowl, and she happily lapped up the broth, trying to devour as much rabbit as she could before Duran withdrew the stew. Most people would find it incredibly unappealing to share utensils and dishes with wild animals, but Duran was not so squeamish. In all honesty, there was probably an orc inside that had a more disgusting mouth than his own wolf. He stuck his bowl back into the pot, trying to get more rabbit morsels, since it appeared that Goma had eaten them all.

From outside the Boulon Brother's Inn, Duran could see the shadows of people moving around, and hear jovial noises. Jovial was probably a generous choice of words though, he thought. He got up, and looked in through the window, getting a look at everybody in the bar.

The halfling lieutenant was there, along with an orc, and a harpy. It appeared as though they were having an in-depth conversation about something. Duran might as well have been able to read lips when it came to halflings, since a favorite topic involved tall-folk, and any amount of incompetence, inferiority, inequality, or some other stereotypical injustice.

It appeared as though the couple of female dark elves were in the bar as well. He had never spent much time around a dark elf, though previous interactions led him to believe that they could be at least as trustworthy as regular elves, and stealthier to boot. He just kept coming back to one thing: The blind mage. It was an odd choice of profession for a blind individual; Duran wasn't sure exactly what kind of magic she practiced, though he didn't like the thought a magical projectile being let loose from somebody with such an impairment. It was probably best that she was a dark elf since they were probably the most accustomed to being in the dark for long periods of time.

The two deep humans were sitting at a table together, it seemed. A sense of racial comradery was probably the reason, though he couldn't blame them. It was the only thing that a lot of people had in these trying times. It also didn't help that the dragons were exterminating each race one at a time. It was probably a useful adaptation to be a Deep Human. Duran wasn't completely sure if the dragons would have the same problem killing off the Deep Humans as they had killing off plain Humans with their genocide spell, although things wouldn't fare well for them either way if the dragons decided to focus fire on them next.

In another area, the Human Berserker set to be in his squad was sitting by himself, drinking out of a bottle that was no doubt filled with something alcoholic. There was probably a story there, though Duran knew better than to ask somebody capable of flying into a murderous rage about their past. He kept an eye on him, patting Goma on the head as she unwittingly devoured the contents of his soup bowl.

Any normal person would probably have just gone inside and started a conversation, but Duran was very out of place when it came to these kinds of situations. It wasn't necessarily that he was anti-social, he just didn't "connect well" with the kind of people who would rather sleep inside than look up at the night sky, feel the grass on their skin, and experience the satisfying grit of dirt between their toes.

He didn't really try to keep a low profile as he looked through the window, thought it would probably require at least a second glance to notice him between the darkness outside and the light inside.