Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library » Game Theory » The Hidden Void » Removing CS From an Indy Universe : Solution » On the Matter of New Players and Orphaned Plays » STOP BLAMING US FOR RPG BEING SLOW! » Polytheism » The Game of Life » Just War »

Players Wanted: 18+, 1x1 Multi. Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for 1 on 1 roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players » Here, At the End of the World (supernatural mystery drama) » Seeking Role Players for a TOG Based RP » so I made a Stranger Things RP idk why not come join »

User avatar

StorminJericho member of RPG for 4 years

Author Lifegiver Tipworthy Promethean

What really is there to say? I love writing, I love roleplaying, and I love to interact with others!
73,321 words written.
132 total posts.
555 words per post.
15 posts per roleplay.
167 average days in a roleplay.
9 universes joined.
12.25 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

I love to write! Though I can be pretty bad about it... I like reading and welding too!
Began Role Playing:
31 Mar 2012
Favorite Role Playing Game:
Enclave, ironically
Game Master:
Favorite Setting:
High fantasy and Sci-fi, cyberpunk!

User statistics

Fri Sep 22, 2017 10:06 pm
Last visited:
Tue Jul 20, 2021 10:10 pm
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
(0.00% of all posts / 0.00 posts per day)
Most active forum:
Out of Character
(8 Posts / 133.33% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
Project Oddity
(3 Posts / 50.00% of user’s posts)

Contact StorminJericho





Wrote your first piece in a universe!



Created a character in an RPG universe.



Awarded for receiving your first tip from another user!



Successfully created a universe for others.


1 created.
0 active.
1 inactive.
0 completed.

Universes Created

The Story of The Shattered Fangs

The seas are hostile, the lands are tattered, and the people are hardy. Magic thrums through the winds, and in the voices of those who call themselves mortal. Sail the open seas, and try as you might to survive.

Most Tipped Posts

5.00 INK received for post #2817402, located in Rhindeval:

Tyann Rebal:: #F47206

Ivelda finally took notice of him, and in a burst of excitement, Tyann stood taller. Pride bloomed in his chest as she commended his command over the War-Drake, regardless of the fact that she most certainly could have commanded a true dragon with ease! He had no doubt, there was absolutely no question.

His attention wavered as he turned his gaze towards Raiden, blinking owlishly as the Huntsman took his leave. That arm was looking worse and worse… Hm. Nothing Tyann could really do about it. He knew how to treat beasts, and even some very basic suture work and malady treatment for men and women, but nothing like Asher. That one, oh that one, could treat people as if he knew the miraculous cures to every malady! … It was a shame that Tyann found his charismatic charm more grating than enjoyable. Not for want of trying, as Tyann did appreciate him, but all the same.

He took care of people though, and the Beast Master appreciated that more than he could express.

Oh! Raiden mentioned a gift. Tyann grunted a quick ‘hold on’, patting Korgan on the shoulder with a silver clawed hand as he walked away, focused entirely on the possibly deadly beast that was brought to him.
He first had the drake sequestered away in its pen, reminded himself that Korgan would need an instruction manual of sorts for the damn thing— Oh. Speaking of which.

His legs carried him back to Korgan as if he were in a trance, his mind so occupied with the pride and joy he felt at being recognized by Ivelda, the simple praise she had given him, that he behaved unusually. He spoke plainly to Korgan, his voice muted and eerily calm. “The beast is in its stable. Third row, second from the far wall. It’s name is Netorugal, it is male, and it will only heed your, or my, command. It is smart. Do not think of it as a pet, it is an ally— a companion— not something that will not think on its own,” Tyann paused to assure that Korgan heard him, before continuing. “Let it swim beside your vessel while you are not in the midst of battle, it will keep up, or simply cling on underneath. It has a whistle in its stable. Blow into it, and it will come. … Oh. Do not FUCKING feed it spider-meat, it will not digest it, and will thusly perish. … Please take good care of it.

With that, Tyann nodded, slapped Korgan on the shoulder with a quiet laugh, and walked off to retrieve his gift from Claw-Breaker’s saddle bag.

OH ABSOLUTELY F—” The subsequent curses were swallowed up by the panicked cacophony of horse, hound, and boar. In Tyann’s hands was the Nexu cub, his clawed fingers holding the creature by its quilled scruff. The quills were yet to harden, and though the little beast tried its hardest to claw at Tyann’s arms, it simply could not reach.
His temper kept attempting to spike, and though he wanted to be furious, he tamped it down as best he could. A long sigh burst out from Tyann, his brows furrowed as he stared into the face of the Nexu.

Thoughts scattered about in his head as he considered his next move. He appreciated the gift, of course! But… Where would he keep something like this? This would require time! And dangerous effort at that! Not to mention that he would most likely have to take care of this himself! … Or was that the hubris talking?
Tyann grumbled again, clearing his throat and making an odd rumbling-purring-huff like noise. The nose of his mask pressed against the cub as he made the noise, the mewling beast slowly quieting and instead beginning to call for food. A quiet caterwaul that Tyann recognized well from most carnivores. Damn.

The Beast-Master huffed a sigh as he turned on his heel and meandered his way towards the outskirts of the palace grounds. The cub still held cautiously by its scruff. Raw food was probably best for it, and if Raiden was to be believed, it was old enough for it… Damn. Damn!

2.00 INK received for post #2817345, located in Atlas City:

Jemma held the portion of meat in her hands as if it were a chalice, blinking owlishly at Sairyn before pausing and turning to raise a thoroughly confused eyebrow at the lawyer man who had strode in.
The, er, 'illustrious' Pendleton Dullard. Hm. Jemma wasn't entirely too sure how she felt about the man, on top of his rather... Obtrusive personality. His voice was filtered out, along with Sairyn's as she focused again on the 'snack' that 'The Scientist' offered her.

It was cold, but... Warm? It wasn't old. At most maybe 40 minutes? But the way Sairyn and Yue were behaving... Older? Interesting. There was also something underneath it, something she couldn't really put a phalange on. Oh well.

Ink pulsed at the back of Jemma's skull as an eye swelled into view, horrifically obvious and almost comically large. It blinked and watched the group as Jemma turned about and let herself consume the meat from the leg.
Ink pulsed along the fractal-bolts of contact that spread from her flesh to the dead meat. Once, twice, three times. Then the meat turned black as Jemma spread herself to as much of it as was possible- and then consumed it all.

The bone fell to the floor...

And the world faded to black nothingness, as J-3 made a screech that drowned out almost any noise made near it. Her- Its'- Their- The form of 'Jemma' exploded into a sphere of roiling ink. At first the sphere was larger than even Alex, and swallowed up everything nearby.
A solid portion of Sairyn's feet, and parts of his kneecaps were just close enough to be caught in the horizon of the sphere, before it began to shrink.
Light crackled within the bubble of fluid, a blue spark traveling from some point deep within to the surface that faced the world.
Another spark, another cracking length of blue-white light that scoured its' way up and out from the 'center' of the bubble of ink. Then, there was a deafening crack and boom, as a bolt of lightning lanced out from the sphere. It moved far slower than lightning ought, as if time were slowed around the bolt of electricity.
The branch of voltaic cacophony came into contact with the floor not but five feet away from the sphere, and abruptly sped up.
Another screech, mixed with the buzzing-hum-crack of lightning searing across tile and then electronic equipment, deafened the lab.

The roiling ball of ink and (now) lightning shrank even further down, condensing around a floating sphere no more than three feet in diameter. It was an orb of pitch, as if one had taken the darkest shadow and pressed it into shape and being. Lightning and ink alike swirled around the orb, and it did not shrink any further.
The scream continued, though it grew quieter as two more bolts of crackling energy surged through the air and struck Alex and yet more lab equipment alike. There was no rhyme, no reason, no order or pattern to discern from the apparent transformation, nothing to explain it, as another crackling bolt slammed into a light-fixture above. One seared its blinding path just above Yue's head, filling the air with the noxious stench of ozone.

Jemma's thoughts were scattered and disoriented. She was aware of a force, and a sensation, and a knowing of a {RULE}. She would be this way for... A long time, or at least, for a time that she could not calculate. And she had been this way before, years ago, or was it months? ... Time was off, was misunderstood by the mind that propelled Jemma along. All in all, it didn't make a difference. She was here, in this way and there was no stopping it, no changing it, and she would be this way until the {TIME} was gone. The space flickered with crackling bolts of lightning, subsumed by the stench of ozone, the way one's body aches after a time spent out in the most violent of thunderstorms, and the taste of a nine-volt battery on the tongue.

And it was here, that Her voice found J-3 yet again.

1.00 INK received for post #2815619, located in Zoltia:

It was the hissing spit that really drew Iz’Hana’s focus; his head rolling upward in a languid, almost bored sort of fashion. His eyes narrowed on reflex as the Drow woman was shoved in with him, and he twitched as if to move towards her when she spat on the dwarf.

Inbau aturr ulu l’maerch, gorra’h.” Hissed the woman, her words driving Iz’Hana’s eyebrows high. His body twitched as if to move forward, to protect this… This kindred, this one like him, like so many others. But no.

No instead, he sat calmly, holding his breath and his body as still as the grave. As still as an animal watching for an opening. The guards held one eye on him, one on the woman, and one on the now raging dwarf.

He got no such opening. They left, and locked him in with someone… Interesting.

His focus turned to the woman as he stood to his full height, his arms creaking the entire way up. His eyes, far darker than hers, locked on the woman’s form as she curled away.
The trill she gave before she did though…

Iz’Hana returned the trill, a deeper, somewhat guttural thing, with an inflection on the end as well.
Then his hands moved, one coming up and resting over his eye, the palm facing out towards the woman.
Then they both came down, facing up towards the ceiling, as close to under his ribs as he could get them.

Then he repeated. Over and over until the woman looked, and responded.

The boredom faded quickly for Iz’Hana, and instead, exhilarated focus overtook him. He dared not speak, dared not to breathe until he was sure that she was what he thought she might be.

A comrade.

1.00 INK received for post #2816999, located in The Horat-verse:

Kaor jumped, blinking away her surprise before gently nudging a group of people away from her path with a massive paw. Her head twisted upwards and back, one paw taking the offered food without pause while the other began reaching into a satchel at her hip.
Delightful! Thank you little gecko.” She called up to the weight on her shoulder. Her attention shifted to the mutt, the clawed paw in the satchel coming out and giving the hound some love.

She had been people watching, observing the crowds of Poyo with a friendly smile. There were some who were too terrified of her to even hold her gaze, regardless of any cheer or benevolence she put forth.
Others had watched her right back, or even approached with good cheer and kindness to them.
Like the huntsman who, just the other day, pointed Kaor and the friendly weight on her shoulder in the proper direction of one of their marks. He had been nice. For a bit.

Then he had taken too much interest in why her traveling companion didn’t speak, why she “moved her hands all funny like,”
He had been introduced to a smile that would have curdled the blood of gods, if it could be so.
But it could not, so instead he ran with the coin Kaor had given him for his charitable assistance!
All’s well that ended without bloody noses!
That’s what she thought at least.

The second thing to grab her gaze was the sight of a woman dealing with her pickpocket issues. In the few days that she and ‘her little gecko’ had been in Poyo, she had seen so many new sights. It had been months- MONTHS- since she had taken a proper bath. Poyo was, of course, maybe not the place to find such a luxury, but the fact that she was able to eat meat not skewered by her own spear was amazing.
It didn’t help that Kaor loved festival foods.
Oh! What a rambling thought; right. Woman with a pickpocket.

The beast-woman prepared herself to move, letting the drumming of her heart send her muscles into decisive action. She opened her mouth, lifting a hand as if to reach out and touch the woman in question, even if she was far and away.
Then she came to a stop as she watched the woman pay for both the boy, and herself.


The third thing to draw her attention was a small clamoring commotion. Ice-blue eyes shifted away from people in the crowd, away from people in the thoroughfare, and towards the Golden Peach Inn.
People were stopping, gathering even to gaze upon… something! And that something was apparently amusing enough to draw laughter. Laughter tinged with spite and a lack of empathy. Interesting!
Then she saw it, and even if she WANTED to resist the urge to wiggle her shoulder for the wonderous trickster who perched upon it, she couldn’t. Her laughter was a strange thing; bell-like and gentle… Even if her face scrunched up into a hilariously ugly grin with the sound.
Xanth! Oh! Hehe! Sweet gecko look, some poor bastard is out and about with his pants down! And gagged no less! I wonder what he was up to, yes?” She laughed up to her sticky fingered partner.
Oh! That reminds me, where shall we stay tonight oh lovely Gecko? Perhaps the inn ahead? I feel like being under a roof tonight, if we could be so lucky!

1.00 INK received for post #2817294, located in The Horat-verse:

The clanging sound of bells was never welcome, in Kaor's mind. Her smile dropped as swiftly as it had come, and as the group of individuals around her began to scatter and make up their minds about what next to do... She made up hers as well.

On a heel she turned, searching through the scattering crowd of people within the Golden Peach Inn, located Xanth in the midst of reaching for the pocket of the strange, chained to the peasant, woman. Kaor whistled sharply, two quick knives of sound scouring into the air as Mutt (Xanth's beloved hound's nickname, courtesy of Kaor herself,) darted into movement.

Xanth found herself being swept up into the air, a massive paw grabbing her up by the scruff of her neck and seamlessly depositing her in the large wicker basket Kaor carried on her back. Mutt scrambled on the wood floor of the inn for a moment before rushing onward, leaping up and onto the back of a stumbling man before finding his way into the basket along with Xanth.

Kaor grunted her pleasure at seeing the two she wandered with secure, turned her gaze to Takai as the poor man chose to follow both the Snow Oni from earlier, and a new, interesting individual. This man carried himself in a manner that set Kaor's fur on edge, and reflexively made her ears press flat to her head. She made no comment on it though, and as the trio of men began to make their way out into the throng of scrambling people... Kaor turned and took her two companions away from the chaos at the front.
She made her way towards the back of the dining hall of the inn. Spotting the doorway that led into the back of the building, to the kitchens, she strode through.
As she entered the area where meals were prepared, the smell of half-cooked dishes hit her nose. A quick sniff- a quicker glance about- and Kaor kept moving. Food could wait for later. Making sure she, her Gecko, and her Mutt stayed safe was the highest priority.

And the chaos of the situation was DEFINITELY not safe. So the bearwoman made her escape.

Navigating to the space behind the Golden Peach was easy enough, but the rush of people that were trying to escape even this way was frustrating.
Kaor huffed; bared her teeth in a snarl at a woman who was attempting to pull a child along. The little boy, human, no more than five perhaps, was stumbling and crying hysterically. His mother, maybe? Was ignorant to his pleas for her to wait. Kaor stepped out and yanked the woman to a stop, grabbing the boy and placing him solidly in the mother's arms before pushing the woman and HER charge onward.

She then began following the crowd, away from the square. Whatever was happening was NOT worth it. These scrambling people were more worth the help anyhow.