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druidquest member of RPG for 9 years

Promethean Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration World Builder Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Arc Warden Lifegiver Storyteller Novelist Tipworthy Giver

132,841 words written.
502 total posts.
265 words per post.
21 posts per roleplay.
104 average days in a roleplay.
24 universes joined.
61.50 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

pokemon cards
Began Role Playing:
04 Sep 2007
Game Master:

User statistics

Wed Dec 10, 2014 4:22 am
Last visited:
Fri May 12, 2023 6:34 pm
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
(0.00% of all posts / 0.00 posts per day)
Most active forum:
Out of Character
(315 Posts / 7875.00% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
The Rend
(56 Posts / 1400.00% of user’s posts)

Contact druidquest





Successfully created a universe for others.



Successfully created a universe for others.

Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

Created your first topic!



Wrote your first piece in a universe!



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.

Arc Warden

Arc Warden

Successfully created a storyline arc in an existing universe!



Created a character in an RPG universe.



Added over 20 posts to a storyline arc!



Wrote over 80,000 total words!



Awarded for receiving your first tip from another user!



Has given a tip to another user!


9 created.
0 active.
9 inactive.
0 completed.

Universes Created

Episodes and Epilogues

Low-obligation writing group for episodic prompt-based short stories.

Orchid Town

Magical Girls don't stay Magical Girls forever. Everyone retires someday, right?

Most Tipped Posts

51.75 INK received for post #2817699, located in The Horat-verse:

Samyan looked where the guard was pointing, then turned back to him with eyes full of sorrow. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, and when she spoke, it was the tone of one explaining to an unusually slow child. "That's not a tower. That's a bonfire."

3.00 INK received for post #2817256, located in The Horat-verse:

Samyan slipped into a back corner table, placing the twin dolls in front of her. She had done nothing wrong, ever, in her life, and thus had nothing to fear from anything.

3.00 INK received for post #2817312, located in The Horat-verse:

Samyan stared up at the statue commemorating some nameless peasant soldier. What respectable people the Yunes were, to honor some long forgotten nobody. Even if this nobody seemed awfully rude and judgemental.

There were an awful lot of people crowding into the square around her. They seemed to be trying to keep their distance from her walking stick, but the more the square filled with bodies the harder that became, until they were desperately leaning back into their fellows to avoid the sharpened blade curving toward their faces. Samyan pondered this for a moment, wondering why they didn't just move away, then just sighed at the foolishness of humans and leapt into the air, landing on top of the crowd as they were pushed into the space she'd just occupied.



"Watch it!"

Samyan strolled leisurely on the heads and shoulders of Poyo as if she'd lived there her entire life, turning her head this way and that as she looked for a place to go with fewer people. She moved back toward the markets, against the flow of people until the throngs started to thin out. She began hopping to bridge the growing gaps between people, balancing like an acrobat on her rapidly shifting footholds, and when the spaces finally grew large enough she jumped several feet through the air, landing hard enough on a prefect in green armor to leave an imprint of her foot on his face and knock him nearly off balance. He was remarkably sturdy.

Samyan gave a knowing nod to the guard's raven haired lady companion, then stepped down toward the ground and headed off toward the walls, finding herself curious about what everyone was moving away from.

1.25 INK received for post #2817170, located in The Horat-verse:

Samyan rubbed the back of her head and scowled at the sharp-toothed brat. “You can’t rush important decisions in life, boy,” she said wisely, turning back to the stall. “Adopting is always a big commitment. It’s important to think carefully so you don’t make any mistakes.”

A vein throbbed in the Yunish man’s temple. “THEY’RE SCROGGING DOLLS!!”

“Is that what they’re for?” Samyan asked, eyebrows raising slightly. She put a finger thoughtfully to her chin. “What a thing to sell at a festival.”

Dark red shot across one of the man’s eyes as a vein burst from apoplexy. His lips curled in a snarl around clenched yellow teeth, and the curled fingers of his left hand hovered by Samyan’s shoulder, making an impressive show of restraint to throw her into the river. “Just take one of the festival souvenir dolls, please,” he hissed.

“Or just get both!” the woman chimed in, ever the master of de-escalation.

“They might not get along, though?” Samyan picked them both up gingerly, bringing them close to her face to examine them. “I should take a bit of time to consider this.”

Samyan bolted around the corner of the crowded festival streets as a variety of souvenirs and snack foods were hurled through the air behind her, accompanied by a howl of rage and bloodlust.


She darted through the crowds, shaft of her scythe bouncing against her shoulder and face impassive as she absconded swiftly from the man seeking her truly unjust demise. Her feet made a light tap tap tap tap sound in the dirt as she went past a crowd of guards who seemed to be investigating a stall that had been wrecked by two drunk women, her back keeping straight and only one arm pumping along at her side as if she were on a brisk morning jog.

“A man is trying to kill me,” she said in passing to the Yunish prefect, not bothering to stop and elaborate before disappearing into the throngs of revellers at the other end of the street.

1.00 INK received for post #2815641, located in Atlas City:

March 15, 2045
Some Fucking Hotel, North Carolina
Early? Time is meaningless.

Sheri's hair lay over her like a curtain as she lay face down in the center of her hotel room, the floor and walls dancing in slow circles around her. She flicked her tongue at the coppery liquid beading on her cracked, dry lip, her consciousness feeling like a halo spinning around the outside of her skull.

The room was completely empty aside from Sheri's prone form. The door was locked from the inside, and so were the windows. Sheri hadn't left the small corner suite assigned as her temporary quarters since they had arrived. She had isolated herself, refusing any attempt at room service from the staff, and spent the entire time exercising or… well her gun had been confiscated following the fiasco at the reactor, otherwise she'd have spent the rest of her time running through gun maintenance on loop. Instead she'd taken to staring at a wall, or out the window.

Or lying face down on the floor in her underwear, dying.

"Hey, roll over. I wanna see your abs."

Sheri grunted softly and refused to move.

"Come on, I bet you look real cut right now. On account of the aggressive dehydration and starvation. Good enough for Hollywood, even."

"Dead people don't talk," Sheri mumbled into the shag carpet, her voice weak and hoarse.

"You're managing just fine," Jack teased. Sheri rolled her head toward the sound of her sister's voice, taking in the sight of slender brown legs covered in short black fuzz. Jack plopped down next to her, legs crossing in front of the same underwear Sheri was wearing.

Sheri buried her nose back into the carpet. "Go away," she murmured into the floor. "I'm not in the mood to be haunted."

"Haunted!" Jack gasped, theatrically scandalized. "You would take me for a common specter, dear lady? Why, I never!" Sheri replied with something unintelligible. Why, that's exactly right!" Jack continued, pretending Sheri was comprehensible. "I am no simple spirit, but rather the malignant hallucination of your fading mind as it circles ever onward around the drain of oblivion! Shock! Dismay!"


"I'm thrilled you grasp the severity of the situation."


Jack chuckled softly, leaning back on her hands. "I honestly don't know why this is the part you're stress testing," she commented, poking at Sheri's ribs with her foot. "Kinda feels like putting the cart before the horse, y'know? I mean you'd think testing the body swap thing would come first, right? Make sure dying isn't actually a prerequisite? What was even your fallback if starving to death doesn't trigger it? Or-" Jack cast her gaze around the empty hotel room. "Do you got a clone sitting on ice in the bath, or did you not consider that either?"

"Do you think I could eat my hand?"

Jack blinked several times, processing. The sound of some screaming creature shrieked past the window outside. She looked down at Sheri for a moment, then sighed and stood back up. "Oooooookay. Come on dummy. Time to get up."

Sheri felt a hand grab the band of her bra from behind and haul her upwards, and the next thing she knew she was standing upright, her fist still clenched wear it had gripped her underwear. She slowly uncurled her fingers, staring blankly at her palm as she realized she wasn't hungry or thirsty anymore. She scratched at her head, turning in place to take in the empty room as her newly cleared mind tried to recall what the hell had just happened.

".....I should go eat something," she remarked to no one in particular, and then set about getting dressed.