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MartinVole Groundskeeper & member of RPG for 10 years

Author Promethean Conversation Starter Inspiration World Builder Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Streamwatcher Person of Interest Bug Hunter Visual Appeal Tipworthy Lifegiver Greeter Concierge Group Theory Giver

An OG in many scenes I suppose, I am a writer and sketcher with a preference towards monsters and the general bizarre and other-worldly. I like science fiction and fantasy mostly and mixing them.
258,523 words written.
835 total posts.
310 words per post.
15 posts per roleplay.
96 average days in a roleplay.
54 universes joined.
67.75 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

Began Role Playing:
09 Feb 1995
Favorite Role Playing Game:
Hard to say
Game Master:
Favorite Setting:

User statistics

Tue Nov 25, 2014 5:11 pm
Last visited:
Tue Feb 27, 2024 1:13 am
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
(0.00% of all posts / 0.03 posts per day)
Most active forum:
Out of Character
(231 Posts / 243.16% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
Pantheon: Whims of the Gods
(22 Posts / 23.16% of user’s posts)

Contact MartinVole





Wrote your first piece in a universe!



Successfully created a universe for others.

Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

Created your first topic!



Another user created a post in a universe you created!

World Builder

World Builder

Created your first non-default location in an RPG universe!



Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!

Friendly Beginnings

Friendly Beginnings

You posted your first topic in the Welcome Forum.



Wrote over 80,000 total words!



Awarded for joining a stream!

Person of Interest

Person of Interest

Created a character that was later followed by another user!

Bug Hunter

Bug Hunter

You were the first to find and report a previously unknown bug!

Visual Appeal

Visual Appeal

Awarded for adding an avatar to your profile!



Awarded for receiving your first tip from another user!



Created a character in an RPG universe.



Responded to 10 different topics in the Welcome Forum.



Responded to 25 different topics in the Welcome Forum.

Group Theory

Group Theory

You created your first group in a universe!



Has given a tip to another user!


24 created.
0 active.
24 inactive.
0 completed.

Universes Created

Sands of Oblivion

In a cruel and torn gray world that never was truly conceived, beyond light and dark, where memories are a precious commodity, resides a will to find meaning. Can life find meaning here, or fade to the nothing?

Aishna: Tower of Desire

From different lands, different worlds, different times, those who learn of this tower seek to be the one to reach the top, all for the promise of having their every desire fulfilled

Elsland Fantasy

In a world of magic the crossroads between the worlds has grown thin, requiring those who can maintain the balance before everything is unraveled by entities beyond comprehension.

Most Tipped Posts

2.00 INK received for post #2826487, located in Orion Spur:

From outside it was evident that the Amatsu-Mikaboshi has refrained from powering up its weapons, opting instead to continue pursuit despite the hails. A transmission was sent out as to answer the why.

"Attention, this is Shinigami Daku, in current operation of OZ-13MS Gundam Epyon, modified, designation: 'Amatsu-Mikaboshi', a blade in service of Lord Kurogane of the Zephyr Veil. This is not an act of hostility upon your... respective forces. The target is a hijacked AEU-09 AEU Enact Space Type, designation: 'Sol Senshi', or rather, the pilot, Carmen Dellevon. She is charged with familicide of Cobreo Dellevon, and will be judged accordingly by the Dellevon family, or here should she choose to resist. It is ill-advised to intervene, as the will must be fulfilled."

1.75 INK received for post #2827478, located in Wing City High Court:

As the courtroom proceedings continued, Draven's attention remained fixated on the events transpiring before him. He took notes as it went on, a rather tense first testimony he had to admit to himself. His attempts at maintaining composure were evident, but an undercurrent of tension ran through him. The uncertainty of the trial's outcome gnawed at his nerves, and he couldn't help but feel an anxious tightness in his chest.

"Wh... the hell? The entire bloody planet..? How..?" Eurydice muttered quietly, biting her lip.

Draven's caught something from the corner of his eye, a shift in Lewis's demeanor. The man, who had appeared haggard and worn, now seemed even more tense. Draven couldn't help but wonder about the guy. His mind raced with questions, pondering if the bloodsuckers had inflicted some sort of harm upon him, or if there was another reason. Maybe he was a hunter?

"Yeah... me too, buddy," he said quietly.

He then noticed the woman in glasses taking, what he figured was notes as well, another organization perhaps? Or maybe just study? This was no doubt a momentous occasion to say the least.

1.75 INK received for post #2827031, located in Cursed Wood:

"I don't think he's actin' according to anybody but 'imself," she said, giving Ulrich a look like he should be able to tell. "I just came in because y- wait, Zosimos is being convicted? Damn, what took ya'll so long..?"

She crouched down and looked up at Lewis, trying to get any sign of whatever state he's in. Wearing all that armor must be brutal, and when was the last time this guy slept? His speech seemed high-strung, his motions becoming weak and sluggish... maybe two or three? Exhaustion was setting in. Why is he here? He's not that twisted kinda crazy, he's motivated by something, fear maybe? Revenge? Either way, she had to try to help.

"Kethyr? He fled when the fight broke out, he didn't want trouble either," she answered calmly and honestly to the first question. "I'd say I was on patrol, but I was more joyriding and my boss may be pissed with me. But eh, I deal with... well, I deal with supernatural affairs, like keepin' normal folk from gettin' maimed by the other sort. Kinda make-up for those I failed, y'know?"

1.50 INK received for post #2827219, located in The Black Lotus:

The Black Lotus bore down upon the joyriding group, a mischievous duo that Don Kurogane recognized all too well – his youngest son and daughter. "Of course, it was them," he muttered under his breath, disappointed that Nissho had chosen this path.

Momomaru, on the other hand, had always possessed a streak of rebellion, which had troubled him. What unsettled him more was the realization that she would be the only daughter he'd have to arrange a marriage for. With her insistence on vibrant dyes and whimsical fancies, she proved to be a challenging prospect for any potential suitors that met his approval.

Miles, hailing from a notably expendable background, lacked the privilege of noble upbringing, but his responsibilities were clear: he had duties to fulfill and an obligation not to defy his warlord's wishes. The persistent fact that Miles had never once sought Kurogane's approval was more than just a minor irritation, but then again, Kurogane had never held particularly high expectations for those with weak resolve.

However, in a perverse way, Miles' actions might inadvertently serve as a valuable example to the lower echelons of Kurogane's dominion, a stark reminder of what awaited those who failed to toe the line.

The electronic door's unsettling hum announced the arrival of the troublemakers. Kurogane sat with his back to the entryway, bringing his claws up to his face, interlocking them tightly. The first to enter was Nissho, brash and reckless as ever. He shoved aside some of Kurogane's loyal samurai, making a direct path to his father.

"Yo, what's the deal? I was gonna kick the shit outta so-," Nissho began, puffing up his chest with defiance. But in a swift, unexpected movement, Kurogane spun his chair around and rose to his feet, defying the laws of speed for a creature of his size. With no prior warning, he delivered a vicious backhand to the young troublemaker, sending Nissho hurtling through the air until his back collided with one of the bridge's panels. The bridge operators scattered in disarray as Nissho struggled to prop himself up against the chair.

"Are you okay!?" Momomaru cried out, rushing to Nissho's side in concern. She attempted to help her brother to his feet, but he pushed her away, desperately trying to salvage his pride, his mouth bloodied from the unexpected blow.

Momo glanced at her father, fear and guilt etched across her face. "Daddy, it is my faul-!"

Nissho interrupted her, trying to save face through the pain. "S-shut up! It was... my elaborate plan... you got in the way!" he barked, spitting blood to the side.

Kurogane's piercing gaze turned to Nissho. "So, you planned what? To harass insignificant specks? To what end? What assets do we gain from bothering vagrants? What conquest is that? I've been lenient because... you are but a whelp, but that time is passing," he said, before turning to Momomaru, his tone unwavering. "And you will refer to me as your Don."

Shoved forward by a pair of formidable samurai, Miles was brought into the room. His shades slid off his muzzle and landed on the floor, and he instinctively reached for them, only to watch in dismay as the samurai's relentless march crushed them underfoot. Stumbling slightly, he was pushed closer to Kurogane. The two samurai knelt before their Don before stepping back.

As he stood before the imposing warlord, Miles's breath slowed, the air growing sticky in his throat as his heart sank. He gathered his courage and slowly raised his head, attempting to speak. He wanted to apologize, to explain that he had not foreseen things taking this turn, that he had merely been following the orders of his young masters. However, his words got stuck, and all that emerged were incoherent, stuttering utterances.

"And you," Kurogane continued, his powerful hand closing around Miles' throat and effortlessly lifting him off the ground. The stark difference in their statures had never been so apparent, and the chauffeur's life flashed before his eyes. He was certain he was dead, and as he gazed into the dark, unyielding depths of Kurogane's crimson eyes, he found no trace of mercy—only an icy void.

Gasping and struggling in vain, Miles felt the vice-like grip tighten, Kurogane's nails digging into his flesh. It was an agonizing moment of desperation, every breath a struggle for survival.

"D-... My Don, I told him to, let him go," Momomaru pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

She threw herself against her father's arm, her efforts feeble yet filled with defiance, attempting to persuade him to lower his vice-like grip and release Miles. Her actions were a mix of desperation and resolve. More defiance, he thought, acknowledging her courage in the face of their dire circumstances. It was no surprise that she cried and pleaded; that was the role designated for her particular gender, after all. Indeed, there were no female samurai, and this was precisely the reason. Soft, Kurogane thought. He tightened his free hand, the fabric of his robe splitting to reveal the ivory and black gleam of his bone-like blade. "Remove yourself, or do you wish to see this up close?" he uttered, his voice cold and unforgiving.

What came next, to Kurogane's somewhat grim delight, was Nissho finding a second wind. With newfound determination, he propped himself up on the chair, then launched himself off the headrest and threw himself at his father, his own bone blades extending with a loud snap in a frenzied attempt to reclaim his dignity and seek revenge for the humiliation he had suffered. It was a typically brash move, but somewhere within the warlord's heart, a spark of pride ignited. Nissho's blades met Kurogane's, and for once, the warlord's crimson eyes locked onto his son's.

"Sloppy," Kurogane uttered, his voice oozing with contempt, before overpowering Nissho with ease and flinging him backward. The whelp staggered to his feet, refusing to relent. Again and again, he hurled himself at his father, launching one failed strike after another. His actions were predictable yet persistent, foolish yet strangely inspired. Yet, as time passed, the novelty of this rebellion waned.

With one final surge, Kurogane grabbed Nissho, dangling him off the ground. However, this time, his hand clamped onto the young Kamaitachi's face, his sharp nails digging into his cheeks. It wasn't mercy that drove Kurogane's actions, but a different, more primal urge. He dropped Miles to the ground, leaving him wheezing and coughing as he kicked himself away into a corner as he held his bleeding throat, lucky that none of the claws pierced a major artery. He was lucky that now... he no longer mattered.

"Perhaps something worthwhile will come of this after all," Kurogane said, a stoic look upon his face, yet a glimmer in his eyes. "I'll forge you yet."

1.25 INK received for post #2824618, located in Xamoyos Wilds:

In the midst of the wilds an interloper had invaded it, unseen, unheard, through something more esoteric means. Small enough to hide and in the form of something relatively small and unassuming. This wasn't her native world, this wasn't her native form, but the fear was all too familiar. This small invader knew too well the fear of teeth and claws, in a unforgiving wilds of her own world. One of her first acts was to hide. Having taken up residence in the cabinet of the kitchen of the old facility, she made her presence as minimal as possible.

She heard movement everywhere, sounds of animal calls, of cracks and crunches of feet both heavy and small. She curled up in there, holding her hands over her ears and tightly closing her eyes.

"Little Spark, are you..? Ah. I'm sorry, Little Spark, the Samsara it is... imprecise, whatever was done here left a kink in the veil," a somber male voice speaks in the back of her mind. Her voice cracks lightly as she places her hands on her face, uttering a name or title, Saraph. "Shh now, collect yourself, you must move forward. There is a flaw somewhere in the veil. I am sorry I cannot be by your side, but I made you strong. Remember, it takes only a little spark to cause a fire Basalah."

Her eyes flare for a moment, and, getting down on all fours, she cracked the cabinet door to peek out, her eyes unusually adept at what little light exists here. She was used to an even darker place, in fact. She forces herself out, quietly scurrying through the building, her red scarf dragging behind her. She paused along the way, another sound of footfalls even smaller than her own. Her ears twitch and she caught sight of a bushy tail. Its movements were... precise, with deeper intention. Curious. She quietly followed, making sounds even light to her acute ears. Eventually leaving the facility altogether, the flood of light nearly causing her to double back. She squinted tight and let her other senses guide her.

She heard another sound, heavier, her heart skipped a beat as she hid in some brush and waited for the massive... shelled... thing to part. As she hid, she observed the behaviors of the smaller creature, taking note that it seemed sapient as it protested at the massive monstrosity which seemed—far less so. As the interaction concluded, and the two parted ways, she thought to leave but before she could get too far to observe, another sound caught her attention. Ducked back in, the sound that approached sounded unnatural. There was a strange little... man? Riding atop a wheeled construct. Machines were not a foreign concept, but few exist where she's from. The other thing she knows is that thing he carries is likely worse news than teeth and claws. Regardless, he's relatively the most familiar creature she's seen since coming here, leaving reasoning a potential option if an encounter was unavoidable... then again, it never worked in her homeland.


Honor and arrogance are two sides of the same coin. We don't need standards like "honor," we just need mutual respect, and to do right by ourselves, as well as others.