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mombie member of RPG for 9 years

Promethean Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Lifegiver Visual Appeal Tipworthy Greeter Novelist Inspiration Concierge World Builder Builder Giver

I have three kids, work part time, and school full time. I love roleplay, and I REALLY love making oddball characters. My reading comprehension sucks, but it is what it is - I still love to read a lot. I speak three languages, and English is my second. I write a lot, read a lot, and am pretty easy to talk to.

I am always game for roleplay with groups or private RP. Just hit me up!
202,742 words written.
180 total posts.
1,126 words per post.
6 posts per roleplay.
85 average days in a roleplay.
29 universes joined.
75.75 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

Teacher's Aide for TK
Began Role Playing:
04 Mar 1999
Favorite Role Playing Game:
Low Fantasy, Realism, Supernatural
Game Master:
Favorite Setting:
Medieval and Western RPs.

User statistics

Wed May 02, 2012 7:25 pm
Last visited:
Sat Jun 19, 2021 9:59 am
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
(0.03% of all posts / 0.20 posts per day)
Most active forum:
Out of Character
(517 Posts / 77.63% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
Camp Athens II
(197 Posts / 29.58% of user’s posts)

Contact mombie





Successfully created a universe for others.

Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

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Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!

Friendly Beginnings

Friendly Beginnings

You posted your first topic in the Welcome Forum.



Created a character in an RPG universe.

Visual Appeal

Visual Appeal

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Responded to 10 different topics in the Welcome Forum.



Wrote over 80,000 total words!



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Responded to 25 different topics in the Welcome Forum.

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World Builder

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13 created.
4 active.
9 inactive.
0 completed.

Universes Created


{PRIVATE} This is a 1x1 between mombie and ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ , where we both develop our characters from other RPs and explore our own stories. Look, but no more characters are being accepted at this time.


A supernatural battle brews in the sleepy town of Beaumont Hills and secrets will be revealed in an unlikely group of seniors. Will they be able to overcome what truths they will find out about one another in order to save the town?

The Faceless

The California Bureau of Investigations has been called to the sleepy town of Ferndale, California, to solve a serial killing spree that baffles the nation. They are dubbed the Faceless Murders.

A Grimm World

(Closed to CS) A curse vanquished all fairy-tale creatures from their enchanted realm, and they were banished to Earth with no memory of what happened. These memories have begun to flood them, and they unlock powers and a mission to save a realm.

The Will

[Private RP between mombie and phosphene] When the parents of two siblings die, they move to a sleepy, small town in Avery, Minnesota to take care of some last wishes. They'll soon learn that Avery isn't so sleepy after all...

Star Wars: Old Republic

[OPEN] Star Wars: The Old Republic is an open Non-GM approval needed RP dedicated to the SWTOR MMO game. Multiple settings. Sith, Jedi, Mandos, Bounty Hunters, all races - all welcome.

Everlasting Muse

{Private} 1x1 RP between mjolnir and mombie that mostly consists of small moments between characters for growth and development.

Dreamwaker's CS and Coding Garbage Dump

aka Mombie's place where characters, RP ideas, and other things are kept. You may look, but if you want something, you must ask.

Storybook: A Grimm World

(CLOSED TO CS FOR THE TIME BEING) A curse vanquished all fairy-tale creatures from their enchanted realm, and they were banished to Essex, Connecticut with no memory of what happened. That all changes today, for the world of fairytales has awakened in everyone.

Most Tipped Posts

0.25 INK received for post #2819100, located in Descendant Academy:


J o s i a h x D a l i n s k i

o f x h a r l e y & j o k e r
#B48F7C || Outfit || josiah
#52493d || the brute
#5c7340 || the enigma
#544073 || the jester

The man just wanted to get some sleep, but before he could sprawl out on a couch he was being approached. Rather, some other man's big ass hand fell on his shoulder in one of those demanding ways. When he looked up at Jameson, he rolled his eyes. What did he do wrong this time? He couldn't read his face. He couldn't read anyones face. "Can we have a chat? Man to man?"

To be fair, no one could know his mind. He barely knew it himself.

Because of Josiah's psychopathic idiosyncracies, the Ghostrider wasn't as intimidating as he thought. He has learned, to some degree, how to read body languages - but it's honestly a pretty pointless skill when you really didn't care in the first place. People. What use were people anyway? They were always like this, and maybe he didn't know any better - but he wasn't wired to. He certainly didn't have an adequate enough upbringing to make amends for the very important things that he lacked.

Regardless, he left with Jameson and sat himself down as requested. He could play along with this game. This guy wanted to be the man of the bunch - or whatever. Josiah was up to granting him his wish. He leaned forward, folding his arms across the table to look the demon of vengeance right in his face.

"So, who are you... really?" Jameson began, and there was no clear expression written across Josiah's face. In short, he was utterly devoid of the physical nuances of emotion scrawled across his face. It was good for him, but maybe not for others. Sometimes it was bad for him, too. People labeled him weird or rude, and maybe he was a little.

"What are you doing here? You don't have anyone here fooled. I don't claim to know you, or what you're going through. But I'd like you to try and make me understand. I'll go first." Ah, yes - the stereotypical man; some sort of alpha bravado. Some sort of white knight. Nothing short of a bully under the guise of 'for the better'. Josiah knew these types well, so he decided to hang back and listen. These people exposed more about themselves than he did to them, and that was well enough for him.

"I am the host vessel for a vengeance demon... or spirit. Whichever term you prefer. Some think they serve God, others Mephisto. Regardless, it gives me this little radar," the 'protector' kept spouting off at the mouth, and Josiah displayed some inappropriate physical gestures such as yawning and averting his gaze to someplace else. He was disinterested in other people.

He tilted his head slightly, and when he spoke his voice was passive and near robotic in nature. He sounded very much like someone that had no personality - no anything. "Who am I, really?" He started, and from here on out, there would be no lie that would tingle Jameson. There was only truth - a complex proof, almost like some really fucked up labyrinth that was inescapable and directionless. "I am a puzzle with missing pieces - a mansion with many strange occupants. I am Josiah, but sometimes I am not."

Yep, that was a perfect explanation.

"Perhaps, it's nothing more than you have no idea how to treat a woman. But I don't think that's it. So, enlighten me. Because you might be able to fool everyone else here, but not me. I'm the person whose trust you need. And if I think at any point you'll be a danger to us... I'll handle it." Whether or not that sounded like a threat to the mental case, he wouldn't give off any clue. Truthfully, it didn't register with him at the time. Not Josiah in his typical normal state. He didn't recognize the tonal indicators of a warning, and he wasn't quite sure what he meant by "take care of it".

Part of Josiah wanted to delve into the semantics of Jameson's language, but he decided that he didn't care enough to do so. He wasn't scared of the guy. This particular man was fearless, and it was a good and bad thing for him. He didn't have the capacity to be scared, especially of others. "When have I fooled anyone? When have I said I was anything other than who I am?" He'd pose these questions, opting to utilize a logical strategy to oppose having to jump through hoops to attempt to answer questions he did not, himself, know.

Who was Josiah? Where did he come from? Why was he here?

"Are you vilifying me before I have had the chance to do so myself? A lack of trust is understanding, but who are you to make the bad guy because of a couple of crude jokes? I didn't molest the woman, did I?" He leaned in a bit more to close off a little bit of distance, "You claim to not know me or what I've been through, yet you've already decided that I would be a problem." He sat all the way back into his chair and began to laugh. This was strange maniacal laughter; gut-busting humor that was completely out of place for this situation. A normal person might be extremely offended, but instead, Josiah could feel the insidious nature of his mental disease kick in.

His laughter stopped with such abruptness that it was immediately disarming, and he slammed both of his hands on the table top. His teeth clenched and his jaw pulsed, and he closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself. The Ghostrider had unknowingly pushed the man's buttons; like a threat that stimulated his body's flight or fight response. Josiah wasn't aware of the threatening meaning or tones, but a part of him was at the same time. That part of him, much like Jameson's own inner-Demon, looked for a reason to reel its nasty head.

"Who am I? I am... a mansion with no windows and no doors, but many floors. All the occupants in my home," he tapped the side of his head, "help me survive this cold, cruel world in their own unique ways. Without them, I am just Josiah - a dumpster child with no parents pushed through a broken state foster system where most of us end up dead, abused, in jail, or in wards. I have been to all those places - even death."

He nodded his heads a few times and drew his gaze to peer elsewhere, "You might know me a little bit, Jameson. You have an occupant in your own mansion."

0.25 INK received for post #2819642, located in Camp Athens:


L I A M x O ' C O N N O R
o f x a r e s
#EB641D || Outfit || Location

Liam watched in forced silence and invisible bondage; impossibly still from his restraints, the powers of the Gods ensuring that his rage did not overwhelm the others. He boiled. Not only would everyone blame him for what they are going through, but he couldn’t even control his own emotions. His fuse was ungodly short; a hair away from exploding or imploding, whichever came first.

Most of the Trials did not overly excite him, though some piqued his emotion which were prickling at his skin. When his half-sister was up, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. They weren’t family-family, whatever that was. Yet something about it rose his blood, if it could have possibly risen to any higher temperature than it already was.

There it was - Ares children, displayed like beasts, killers, pit against their loved ones as if they had no right to that emotion. The collar of Ares was strapped tight to their throats; the leash just long enough to reach something good, only for them to be yanked back into their place. It wasn’t fair to either of them. By this time, words could no longer describe the way he felt. He didn’t like to see how defeated his half-sister looked; like some sort of undeserving animal under Ares’ thumb. If one thread of his restraints would unwind, he’d end up spiraling downward hard.

The last Trial before his was to come was Andy’s. He didn’t know her very well, either, nor did he know anything about the Ajax and Mason situation. Again - the gods sewed more doubt into relationships that might have been stable had they not been the children of shitty parents.

* * *

Liam did not just have skeletons in his closet; he had demons. If anyone looked into that abyss, they'd find that monster looking back at them. That monster was him, Liam. It was evident that he didn't want anyone to view his life, especially Sloane. If it had been any other day before he met her, then maybe he wouldn't care. It was his life. Yet, his life has become wrapped up in her life, and vice versa, which made this whole exposure so... nerve-wracking. That says a lot because Liam wasn't scared of shit. Not until the very moment that his name was called.

He looked up but remained in his seat; unable to speak or move at will, only to glare at the gods as they are so righteously seated with their judgemental eyes. It didn't matter, though. The powers that be, from the gods (whichever it might have been), forced his body up. That same feminine whisper played through his mind, urging him forward. He looked like an inmate being walked to his execution; solemn like it was his last day on Earth. His physical body struggled with the godly command cast upon him, but it wouldn't have done much more than amuse whoever's strings were attached to his limbs.

Before he stepped through the archway, he looked up at Sloane. If he could speak, he would probably apologize for what was about to play out. This was probably going to be the last time he could look her in the face, and maybe even the last that she'd want to look at him. Then, as if pushed by an invisible hand, the beast was shoved through the portal into his darkness.

Little to his knowledge, a little more godly magic would work into his trial. Where it might have done him better to have context into the scenery, a little background into the tragic moments of his life, it would be all but absent. Only the monster would be displayed to the crowd of onlookers. That was true punishment - to let them know that Liam was nothing more than a brutish thug with a nasty pension for assaulting "helpless" people.

The scene that began to unravel was a much younger Liam - a boy that was barely 17-years old but looked like a fully grown adult. Without context into why he had blown up in this way, his mother was crying. The high schooler had flown into a fit of rage, and his mother had her back against the wall, clutching onto his baby sister for dear life. The woman's pose was one of a battered person; her body turning slightly away from him in an attempt to show him her back. That way he wouldn't accidentally attack the infant.

The emotions are strong in this scene; a fit of raw anger that was uncontrolled and devoid of all sense. He wasn't even human. The worst part was that he wanted to stop. Liam loved his mother and sister so much, but his anger was all-consuming and did not discriminate against loved ones and foes. He paced back and forth, his fists covered in bruises and blood, his hands clawing at his face as if his biggest fight was against himself right now.

He grabbed one of the chairs at the kitchen island and threw it at the wall just shy of his mother; the wood splintering, his mom screaming out for him to stop. The infant cried, naturally, due to the stress and the noise. It didn't help that Liam's own emotions penetrated even the little one, causing her to also become unsettled. The entire tiny apartment they lived in was a nasty wreck; he had torn up everything and every person.

And to anyone that was an animal lover, he had killed his mom's annoying cat. Its body laid on the floor in the living room area, which wasn't hard to see through the open-floor design of the impoverished residence.

When that one melted away, more scenes would emerge like a reel of all of his crimes and shitty behaviors. It looked like he just did as he pleased. He treated women like his bitches, even coming close to non consensual physical contact. He did lines of coke, beat men nearly to death in the ring, and generally disregarded everything and everyone he loved or cared for.

In the end, when his memories spat him back out into reality, he was just left with a lot of shame. Most of all, a lot of anger. Yes, he was guilty of a lot of unpleasant things in his life. He wasn't a good man. He never claimed to be, and never wanted to be. He had no reason to be decent. What pissed him off was a lack of context - that everything painted him as some sort of monster without any reason.

This forced him to relive the nightmare and the emotional pain that was losing his father, and that immediately opened the floodgates for resentment.

He could speak, though, as the gods couldn't quite leash him up fast enough, "I'm going to kill someone,". The rage that filled him from sole to crown permeated through Pulvinus. It would affect everyone; especially those more sensitive to emotion. He was free, and his eyes were painted over with some kind of thick red cloud, and he tried to run for Heath like a bull. He didn't even know who he was about to attack; only that it was someone.

Sort of getting within arm's reach of Heath, Poseidon stepped in and grabbed the brute. Liam had clearly lost all common sense. His eyes were glazed over with anger, and they were nearly red in hue. His body had become harder, veinier, like he had hulked out - which would be nearly a correct interpretation.

The bonds were replaced immediately, and the God of the Seas made his intent with Liam clear, "Unfortunately, due to the danger that Liam presents, he will not be immediately returning to camp. We have a special place for animals like him."

With that, Liam was hauled away by several gods, and they dispelled the rage that once plagued the arena to be taken to Tartarus, as was promised.


Kids. Roleplay. School. Work.

Stay away from negative people,
they have a problem for every solution.
--Albert Einstein

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If it doesn't open,
it is not your door.

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