"I got nothing else to bet, so if you're not cool with that, we can just play for fun."
"I- Um- uh... Sure."
He sits at a table and throws the silver card back out and shuffles the cards again
"What's the name of the game, stretch?"
"Well, I think you should choose. After all, you are the one betting."
"You gotta bet too! It's only fair."
"O-oh! Okay... sure. I... yeah."
"Alright, your card and mine on the line. Blackjack it is." he raises an eyebrow, throwing out cards to them both
*Rolling 4 d12's, 1 dice per card. 1 is an ace, 2-10 is what it is, (number card), 11 is an ace, 12 is a random face card (jack, queen, king) an ace is either 1 or 11*
Atticus' hand: 102
Cordon's Hand: 111
"Hm... I'll hit." 11
*remaining aces now is 2, if either of us get the third 1/11, reroll*
"12?... I'll hit too." 7
"Hmm... I will... hit." 11
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
A perfectly steady, clear shot, as always. The sniper’s free hand sits wrapped around the walkie talkie, gently pushing the upper button with their index finger. A shit-eating grin wide across his face, the boy pressed the cold metal of the device to his cheek before speaking.
“On your six, soldier-boy. Over.”
Click. Caellach mimicked the gun sound with a soft pow, smiling. He could see the taller boy’s black braid - expertly done, if he did say so himself - from where he was crouched behind one of the fake plaza boards that were set up to mimic the “battle scene”, whatever that meant. Scarfing down a sandwich in one hand, the more worn of the two walkie talkies gripped in the other, Caellach watched in amusement as his current victim of harassment was now aggressively glancing around the perimeter of the faked warzone, searching for the familiar glint of a rifle’s barrel half-stuck out the window. As if I didn’t just tell him my location.
Caellach sighed, left-handed forefinger fiddling with the trigger in express boredom. It would be really funny to shoot the half eaten sandwich from his hand, but Caellach restrained himself - Cathal would have him running reverse-suicide drills all day if he so much as heard about it, and Angelo had a big ******* mouth. The walkie talkie buzzed in his hand.
“Cael, I’m going to strangle you to death if you shoot me with that ******* paintball gun again.” Pause. “Over.”
Caellach tsked, pulling the end of his rifle back through the window, lying it perpendicular to the battered oak-planked floor, barrel resting against the faded lime-colored wallpaper riddled with bullet holes. Settling himself down into a more comfortable position, Caellach hummed softly to himself as his fingers absently went to the tarnished fidget key-chain clipped onto the belt-loop of his trousers. Should be starting within the next half hour. Cathal said that stick-up-the-arse italian was arriving at eight on the dot, and that freak of a man is never late. Caellach shuddered thinking about it. He wasn’t an idiot - not sure if Cathal was relying on idiocy here for such a poorly kept secret - but he of all people would recognize that nose, those eyes, the stance and the demeanor anywhere. Whether Cathal had somehow located and talked up an exact Angelo father-figure lookalike or it wasn’t just sheer coincidence, Angelo still somehow seemed completely unaware. He sighed again. He loved the boy to bloody hell and back, but sometimes his lack of eyes or semblance of critical thinking skills was gold medal worthy.
Caellach leaned his head backwards against the wall, sighing. Twenty three minutes to pass. And he left his damn notebook at home.
. . .
Keeping your eyes open is something probably important when there’s someone standing in front of you with a knife. It was difficult to concentrate - one eye sort of half lidded from the actively bleeding cut dripping wet blood, the other straining to keep focus on Aledesso’s eyes and not the obnoxiously long hair that was somehow never matted. At least it was a good sign the head injury he took from the taller man’s knife hilt wasn’t too bad - I probably would have asked for a shampoo routine otherwise.
“Cutting the throat is messy. Avoid it. Blood stains for a long time. You only need ten pounds of pressure to compress the windpipe and forty pounds to crush it.” The dispassionate voice of his so called teacher was fading in and out- God, that headache was killing me. I hope Caellach wasn’t here to watch. He’d have tried to tell off the damn soldier himself, and then gotten himself beaten. Or shot. “Brace your arms against each other and squeeze at forty-five degrees up behind the hinge of the jaw and he’s unconscious in seconds.” Aledesso spoke with a deep set frown in his features, not caring to lean down to where I was sprawled out from taking the nasty beating. The bruises were going to take days to fade.The man paused slightly, his eyes taking in my likely pitiful condition. Which was his damn fault in the first place. How the hell am I supposed to parry a knife shot to the sternum? I mean, if I were trying to kill him I-
“The best way to kill with a knife is angled upward below the 3rd rib.” Aledesso resumes, as if reading my mind. Honestly, not even an unlikely possibility. Father’smysterious “friend” only showed up to beat the crap out of me and what I assumed was beating the crap out of my own father as well - his in a much more consensual manner. Or maybe it was reversed in that case.
“-you avoid the breastbone and stab directly into the heart. Very difficult to avoid if you manage to get a front ended grapple off. Angelo. Are you paying attention?” Aledesso’s frown deepened, if that were even possible. His eyes were captivating, in the way I could only really assume a lame deer felt staring into the eyes of a grizzly bear. Shite. I should respond. The damn blood loss is making my head swim.
“Yes..sir. Knife, angles upwards. Third rib. Provided you’re in a good grappling position.”
Aledesso tsks, holding a callused hand out to help me up. I’d only ever seen the man with calluses on his hands - his skin was strangely unblemished, besides the laceration scars, and he had never worn anything outside of the roughhewn military attire with fitted kevlar. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen the man holding his own gun.
“Are you going to stand, or should I take the next lesson into what to do when your opponent is in high mount?” Aledesso spoke sharply, pale eyes still level with mine. I reached a hand out to grasp his - damn that ****er’s hands were cold - stumbling back onto my feet like an unsteady fawn in spring. He continued to speak, not waiting for me to regain composure. “Never be caught on the ground first unless it’s by your own choice. Almost all one on one fist fights will end up on the floor, but you must be the one to initiate it.” He pauses. “And your answer was incorrect. Your knife strike will be fatal and something to aim for whether or not you’ve gotten the grapple - always, always go for the kill. We fight to win, Angelo, not for glory, nor for honor. There is no such thing as dying with honor in battle. In death, we are all the same.”
I could feel my knees trembling, vision going black. Aledesso only watched, knowingly, as if wondering when I’d give in and tell him I’d need to sit down. Ha… like I need a break. Never accept defeat, he had told me in my first lesson. I.. could see the sky now. Still blue, still cloudless. It’s the last thing I could remember before my body keeled over backwards into the pavement.
*Nice!!*
*Indeed. Perfection.*
*im so good at this*
*indeed you are. I might have to steal your writing skill for myself*
“Oooohkay you are gonna… be in for a (1GP)ing surprise.” he leads him up to the doorstep of the Big house. “Go on inside and say you’re new. They’ll show you the orientation film.”
He does as he's ask, extremely confused. When the video's over, Noah comes out and looks... completely shocked, confused a bit still. "Now I.. get the 'gods' thing..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Error. (Traceback) line 1, <Salem> is undefined. >Attemp <EXTENDED SIG>? Jester Day 5/1... We'll miss you YESNO I'm on more than Gonzalo and Bananer, trust B)
Mary is sitting outside of Athena cabin, reading a book, her glasses firmly on her face.
*Whoopsies*
A camper with orange hair with pink high;ights is walking towards the amphitheater, a bronze microphone hanging on her waist, her left arm missing. She doesn't have any beads on her necklace, but she carries herself with the autority of someoe who's bee nhere before, greeting some campers, obviously commanding a great deal of respect.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
A perfectly steady, clear shot, as always. The sniper’s free hand sits wrapped around the walkie talkie, gently pushing the upper button with their index finger. A shit-eating grin wide across his face, the boy pressed the cold metal of the device to his cheek before speaking.
“On your six, soldier-boy. Over.”
Click. Caellach mimicked the gun sound with a soft pow, smiling. He could see the taller boy’s black braid - expertly done, if he did say so himself - from where he was crouched behind one of the fake plaza boards that were set up to mimic the “battle scene”, whatever that meant. Scarfing down a sandwich in one hand, the more worn of the two walkie talkies gripped in the other, Caellach watched in amusement as his current victim of harassment was now aggressively glancing around the perimeter of the faked warzone, searching for the familiar glint of a rifle’s barrel half-stuck out the window. As if I didn’t just tell him my location.
Caellach sighed, left-handed forefinger fiddling with the trigger in express boredom. It would be really funny to shoot the half eaten sandwich from his hand, but Caellach restrained himself - Cathal would have him running reverse-suicide drills all day if he so much as heard about it, and Angelo had a big ******* mouth. The walkie talkie buzzed in his hand.
“Cael, I’m going to strangle you to death if you shoot me with that ******* paintball gun again.” Pause. “Over.”
Caellach tsked, pulling the end of his rifle back through the window, lying it perpendicular to the battered oak-planked floor, barrel resting against the faded lime-colored wallpaper riddled with bullet holes. Settling himself down into a more comfortable position, Caellach hummed softly to himself as his fingers absently went to the tarnished fidget key-chain clipped onto the belt-loop of his trousers. Should be starting within the next half hour. Cathal said that stick-up-the-arse italian was arriving at eight on the dot, and that freak of a man is never late. Caellach shuddered thinking about it. He wasn’t an idiot - not sure if Cathal was relying on idiocy here for such a poorly kept secret - but he of all people would recognize that nose, those eyes, the stance and the demeanor anywhere. Whether Cathal had somehow located and talked up an exact Angelo father-figure lookalike or it wasn’t just sheer coincidence, Angelo still somehow seemed completely unaware. He sighed again. He loved the boy to bloody hell and back, but sometimes his lack of eyes or semblance of critical thinking skills was gold medal worthy.
Caellach leaned his head backwards against the wall, sighing. Twenty three minutes to pass. And he left his damn notebook at home.
. . .
Keeping your eyes open is something probably important when there’s someone standing in front of you with a knife. It was difficult to concentrate - one eye sort of half lidded from the actively bleeding cut dripping wet blood, the other straining to keep focus on Aledesso’s eyes and not the obnoxiously long hair that was somehow never matted. At least it was a good sign the head injury he took from the taller man’s knife hilt wasn’t too bad - I probably would have asked for a shampoo routine otherwise.
“Cutting the throat is messy. Avoid it. Blood stains for a long time. You only need ten pounds of pressure to compress the windpipe and forty pounds to crush it.” The dispassionate voice of his so called teacher was fading in and out- God, that headache was killing me. I hope Caellach wasn’t here to watch. He’d have tried to tell off the damn soldier himself, and then gotten himself beaten. Or shot. “Brace your arms against each other and squeeze at forty-five degrees up behind the hinge of the jaw and he’s unconscious in seconds.” Aledesso spoke with a deep set frown in his features, not caring to lean down to where I was sprawled out from taking the nasty beating. The bruises were going to take days to fade.The man paused slightly, his eyes taking in my likely pitiful condition. Which was his damn fault in the first place. How the hell am I supposed to parry a knife shot to the sternum? I mean, if I were trying to kill him I-
“The best way to kill with a knife is angled upward below the 3rd rib.” Aledesso resumes, as if reading my mind. Honestly, not even an unlikely possibility. Father’smysterious “friend” only showed up to beat the crap out of me and what I assumed was beating the crap out of my own father as well - his in a much more consensual manner. Or maybe it was reversed in that case.
“-you avoid the breastbone and stab directly into the heart. Very difficult to avoid if you manage to get a front ended grapple off. Angelo. Are you paying attention?” Aledesso’s frown deepened, if that were even possible. His eyes were captivating, in the way I could only really assume a lame deer felt staring into the eyes of a grizzly bear. Shite. I should respond. The damn blood loss is making my head swim.
“Yes..sir. Knife, angles upwards. Third rib. Provided you’re in a good grappling position.”
Aledesso tsks, holding a callused hand out to help me up. I’d only ever seen the man with calluses on his hands - his skin was strangely unblemished, besides the laceration scars, and he had never worn anything outside of the roughhewn military attire with fitted kevlar. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen the man holding his own gun.
“Are you going to stand, or should I take the next lesson into what to do when your opponent is in high mount?” Aledesso spoke sharply, pale eyes still level with mine. I reached a hand out to grasp his - damn that ****er’s hands were cold - stumbling back onto my feet like an unsteady fawn in spring. He continued to speak, not waiting for me to regain composure. “Never be caught on the ground first unless it’s by your own choice. Almost all one on one fist fights will end up on the floor, but you must be the one to initiate it.” He pauses. “And your answer was incorrect. Your knife strike will be fatal and something to aim for whether or not you’ve gotten the grapple - always, always go for the kill. We fight to win, Angelo, not for glory, nor for honor. There is no such thing as dying with honor in battle. In death, we are all the same.”
I could feel my knees trembling, vision going black. Aledesso only watched, knowingly, as if wondering when I’d give in and tell him I’d need to sit down. Ha… like I need a break. Never accept defeat, he had told me in my first lesson. I.. could see the sky now. Still blue, still cloudless. It’s the last thing I could remember before my body keeled over backwards into the pavement.
*Nice!!*
*Indeed. Perfection.*
*im so good at this*
*indeed you are. I might have to steal your writing skill for myself*
*nooooo we can share, you give me your ability to write internal dialogue*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
*pick a number between 1-10 and I'll tell you what song they're whistling*
Ashley is once again sitting just inside the tree line of the forest, her pink hair parted, showing one blazing eye.
10
*they're whistling Scylla, from epic. specifically scylla's part*
"hey again!"
*OH MY (GP)ING (GP) (GP) I AM LISTINING TO SCYLLA RIGHT NOW DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND TEARS*
"... Hey."
*It'd be funny to Omar Ashley*
*that's literally why I made them whistle that. that part specifically. also, that would get me killed. Omar has a plan for Ashley, but that's not part of it*
"do you just like hanging out here?"
"Yeah..."
"any particular reason? the smell? the veiw? the solitude?"
*technically, Omar has a plan involving Ashley, not like a Mafia style "deal with them" kinda thing*
"The solitude. Being able to be far awayfrom everyone."
"I can get behind that. as personable as I am, I do need to be alone sometimes. the forest is really big. I'd be pretty hard to find you if you went in"
"Yeah..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
"I'm at 19, you're at... wow, three of the aces and a 6. Staying."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Error. (Traceback) line 1, <Salem> is undefined. >Attemp <EXTENDED SIG>? Jester Day 5/1... We'll miss you YESNO I'm on more than Gonzalo and Bananer, trust B)
Mary is sitting outside of Athena cabin, reading a book, her glasses firmly on her face.
*Whoopsies*
A camper with orange hair with pink high;ights is walking towards the amphitheater, a bronze microphone hanging on her waist, her left arm missing. She doesn't have any beads on her necklace, but she carries herself with the autority of someoe who's bee nhere before, greeting some campers, obviously commanding a great deal of respect.
She looks up from her book and over to them, waving with a friendly smile at them, seeming over enthusiastic to meet new people.
"Looks like I'm going to have to ask some people what the [gp] this is." Havoc says in frustration as he leaves the library,
*Barbarian no good with books. XD*
*poor havoc actually having to talk to people for help*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
A perfectly steady, clear shot, as always. The sniper’s free hand sits wrapped around the walkie talkie, gently pushing the upper button with their index finger. A shit-eating grin wide across his face, the boy pressed the cold metal of the device to his cheek before speaking.
“On your six, soldier-boy. Over.”
Click. Caellach mimicked the gun sound with a soft pow, smiling. He could see the taller boy’s black braid - expertly done, if he did say so himself - from where he was crouched behind one of the fake plaza boards that were set up to mimic the “battle scene”, whatever that meant. Scarfing down a sandwich in one hand, the more worn of the two walkie talkies gripped in the other, Caellach watched in amusement as his current victim of harassment was now aggressively glancing around the perimeter of the faked warzone, searching for the familiar glint of a rifle’s barrel half-stuck out the window. As if I didn’t just tell him my location.
Caellach sighed, left-handed forefinger fiddling with the trigger in express boredom. It would be really funny to shoot the half eaten sandwich from his hand, but Caellach restrained himself - Cathal would have him running reverse-suicide drills all day if he so much as heard about it, and Angelo had a big ******* mouth. The walkie talkie buzzed in his hand.
“Cael, I’m going to strangle you to death if you shoot me with that ******* paintball gun again.” Pause. “Over.”
Caellach tsked, pulling the end of his rifle back through the window, lying it perpendicular to the battered oak-planked floor, barrel resting against the faded lime-colored wallpaper riddled with bullet holes. Settling himself down into a more comfortable position, Caellach hummed softly to himself as his fingers absently went to the tarnished fidget key-chain clipped onto the belt-loop of his trousers. Should be starting within the next half hour. Cathal said that stick-up-the-arse italian was arriving at eight on the dot, and that freak of a man is never late. Caellach shuddered thinking about it. He wasn’t an idiot - not sure if Cathal was relying on idiocy here for such a poorly kept secret - but he of all people would recognize that nose, those eyes, the stance and the demeanor anywhere. Whether Cathal had somehow located and talked up an exact Angelo father-figure lookalike or it wasn’t just sheer coincidence, Angelo still somehow seemed completely unaware. He sighed again. He loved the boy to bloody hell and back, but sometimes his lack of eyes or semblance of critical thinking skills was gold medal worthy.
Caellach leaned his head backwards against the wall, sighing. Twenty three minutes to pass. And he left his damn notebook at home.
. . .
Keeping your eyes open is something probably important when there’s someone standing in front of you with a knife. It was difficult to concentrate - one eye sort of half lidded from the actively bleeding cut dripping wet blood, the other straining to keep focus on Aledesso’s eyes and not the obnoxiously long hair that was somehow never matted. At least it was a good sign the head injury he took from the taller man’s knife hilt wasn’t too bad - I probably would have asked for a shampoo routine otherwise.
“Cutting the throat is messy. Avoid it. Blood stains for a long time. You only need ten pounds of pressure to compress the windpipe and forty pounds to crush it.” The dispassionate voice of his so called teacher was fading in and out- God, that headache was killing me. I hope Caellach wasn’t here to watch. He’d have tried to tell off the damn soldier himself, and then gotten himself beaten. Or shot. “Brace your arms against each other and squeeze at forty-five degrees up behind the hinge of the jaw and he’s unconscious in seconds.” Aledesso spoke with a deep set frown in his features, not caring to lean down to where I was sprawled out from taking the nasty beating. The bruises were going to take days to fade.The man paused slightly, his eyes taking in my likely pitiful condition. Which was his damn fault in the first place. How the hell am I supposed to parry a knife shot to the sternum? I mean, if I were trying to kill him I-
“The best way to kill with a knife is angled upward below the 3rd rib.” Aledesso resumes, as if reading my mind. Honestly, not even an unlikely possibility. Father’smysterious “friend” only showed up to beat the crap out of me and what I assumed was beating the crap out of my own father as well - his in a much more consensual manner. Or maybe it was reversed in that case.
“-you avoid the breastbone and stab directly into the heart. Very difficult to avoid if you manage to get a front ended grapple off. Angelo. Are you paying attention?” Aledesso’s frown deepened, if that were even possible. His eyes were captivating, in the way I could only really assume a lame deer felt staring into the eyes of a grizzly bear. Shite. I should respond. The damn blood loss is making my head swim.
“Yes..sir. Knife, angles upwards. Third rib. Provided you’re in a good grappling position.”
Aledesso tsks, holding a callused hand out to help me up. I’d only ever seen the man with calluses on his hands - his skin was strangely unblemished, besides the laceration scars, and he had never worn anything outside of the roughhewn military attire with fitted kevlar. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen the man holding his own gun.
“Are you going to stand, or should I take the next lesson into what to do when your opponent is in high mount?” Aledesso spoke sharply, pale eyes still level with mine. I reached a hand out to grasp his - damn that ****er’s hands were cold - stumbling back onto my feet like an unsteady fawn in spring. He continued to speak, not waiting for me to regain composure. “Never be caught on the ground first unless it’s by your own choice. Almost all one on one fist fights will end up on the floor, but you must be the one to initiate it.” He pauses. “And your answer was incorrect. Your knife strike will be fatal and something to aim for whether or not you’ve gotten the grapple - always, always go for the kill. We fight to win, Angelo, not for glory, nor for honor. There is no such thing as dying with honor in battle. In death, we are all the same.”
I could feel my knees trembling, vision going black. Aledesso only watched, knowingly, as if wondering when I’d give in and tell him I’d need to sit down. Ha… like I need a break. Never accept defeat, he had told me in my first lesson. I.. could see the sky now. Still blue, still cloudless. It’s the last thing I could remember before my body keeled over backwards into the pavement.
*Nice!!*
*Indeed. Perfection.*
*im so good at this*
*indeed you are. I might have to steal your writing skill for myself*
*nooooo we can share, you give me your ability to write internal dialogue*
*hmmm- maybe. Sure, we can share*
*also wait, am I actually good at writing internal dialogue?*
Mary is sitting outside of Athena cabin, reading a book, her glasses firmly on her face.
*Whoopsies*
A camper with orange hair with pink high;ights is walking towards the amphitheater, a bronze microphone hanging on her waist, her left arm missing. She doesn't have any beads on her necklace, but she carries herself with the autority of someoe who's bee nhere before, greeting some campers, obviously commanding a great deal of respect.
She looks up from her book and over to them, waving with a friendly smile at them, seeming over enthusiastic to meet new people.
She stops, and looks over to them. "Oh. Hey, you're one of the new kids here, right? Huh. There are certaintly a lot more new kids than I was last here."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
Mykailo is skinning a rabbit carcass solemnly near the edge of the woods. Blood stains their hunting gloves, the pelt hung out to try nearby.
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— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
*also wait, am I actually good at writing internal dialogue?*
*YES i really liked your cutscene*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
"Looks like I'm going to have to ask some people what the [gp] this is." Havoc says in frustration as he leaves the library,
*Barbarian no good with books. XD*
*poor havoc actually having to talk to people for help*
*Yeah. Also, what is the level range for this quest so I make sure whoever joins in within it*
*should be 6-12 :) i can adjust around people*
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— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
"Yeah, youre an actually decent person.... Its Simon, by the way. Dont go telling anyone else"
"I'll stick with Vin to make it easier for you, but thanks...for trusting me with it..." Noctis says happily.
"No problem, Nox.. Just glad to have one acquaintance here"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
NNCHRIS: SOUL THIEF, MASTER OF THE ARCANE, AND KING OF NEW YORKNN Gdl Creator of Ilheia and her Knights of the Fallen Stars ldG Lesser Student of Technomancy [undergrad student in computer science] Supporter of the 2014 rules, and a MASSIVE Homebrewer. Come to me all ye who seek salvation in wording thy brews! Open to homebrew trades at any time!! Or feel free to request HB, and Ill see if I can get it done for ya! Characters (Outdated)
*pick a number between 1-10 and I'll tell you what song they're whistling*
Ashley is once again sitting just inside the tree line of the forest, her pink hair parted, showing one blazing eye.
10
*they're whistling Scylla, from epic. specifically scylla's part*
"hey again!"
*OH MY (GP)ING (GP) (GP) I AM LISTINING TO SCYLLA RIGHT NOW DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND TEARS*
"... Hey."
*It'd be funny to Omar Ashley*
*that's literally why I made them whistle that. that part specifically. also, that would get me killed. Omar has a plan for Ashley, but that's not part of it*
"do you just like hanging out here?"
"Yeah..."
"any particular reason? the smell? the veiw? the solitude?"
*technically, Omar has a plan involving Ashley, not like a Mafia style "deal with them" kinda thing*
"The solitude. Being able to be far awayfrom everyone."
"I can get behind that. as personable as I am, I do need to be alone sometimes. the forest is really big. I'd be pretty hard to find you if you went in"
"Yeah..."
"lets see" Omar sits down. "if I had to guess, I'd say you're scared. your power is destructive and uncontrolled, and being around other people makes you nervous about hurting them, and being nervous makes your power harder to control, so you stay away from people, right?"
*AGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! you're making it really hard not to Omar her right now! but in addition to that would get me killed, that would also give Omar away!"
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Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /Moderator of Vinstreb School for the Gifted /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Fun Fact: i gain more power the more you post on my forum threads. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
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"Hmm... I will... hit." 11
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
DON'T TRUST SALEM AND NANER! I'M ON THE MOST!!!
Camp Half-Blood Archives
*indeed you are. I might have to steal your writing skill for myself*
He does as he's ask, extremely confused. When the video's over, Noah comes out and looks... completely shocked, confused a bit still. "Now I.. get the 'gods' thing..."
Error. (Traceback) line 1, <Salem> is undefined.
>Attemp <EXTENDED SIG>? Jester Day 5/1... We'll miss you
YES NO I'm on more than Gonzalo and Bananer, trust B)
My Threads: Anytown, USA and Sanctuary [Links]
S♡J
2-13-25
*DOES ANYONE WANT TO RP? PRETTY PLEASE?*
"I'll stick with Vin to make it easier for you, but thanks...for trusting me with it..." Noctis says happily.
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
Characters for Tenebris Sine Fine
RoughCoronet's Greater Wills
*Whoopsies*
A camper with orange hair with pink high;ights is walking towards the amphitheater, a bronze microphone hanging on her waist, her left arm missing. She doesn't have any beads on her necklace, but she carries herself with the autority of someoe who's bee nhere before, greeting some campers, obviously commanding a great deal of respect.
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
DON'T TRUST SALEM AND NANER! I'M ON THE MOST!!!
Camp Half-Blood Archives
*nooooo we can share, you give me your ability to write internal dialogue*
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
"Yeah..."
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
DON'T TRUST SALEM AND NANER! I'M ON THE MOST!!!
Camp Half-Blood Archives
"I'm at 19, you're at... wow, three of the aces and a 6. Staying."
Error. (Traceback) line 1, <Salem> is undefined.
>Attemp <EXTENDED SIG>? Jester Day 5/1... We'll miss you
YES NO I'm on more than Gonzalo and Bananer, trust B)
My Threads: Anytown, USA and Sanctuary [Links]
S♡J
2-13-25
She looks up from her book and over to them, waving with a friendly smile at them, seeming over enthusiastic to meet new people.
*poor havoc actually having to talk to people for help*
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
*hmmm- maybe. Sure, we can share*
*also wait, am I actually good at writing internal dialogue?*
She stops, and looks over to them. "Oh. Hey, you're one of the new kids here, right? Huh. There are certaintly a lot more new kids than I was last here."
Hiya, there! I'm Gonzalo2, but you can just call me Gonz! (Don't ask about what happened to Gonzalo1.) I'm just an ADHD theater nerd who has too much time on my hands and too little sleep! I'm usually at Camp Half-Blood, which I moderate, and have seventeen characters on. Like I said, too much time on my hands, too little sleep.
DON'T TRUST SALEM AND NANER! I'M ON THE MOST!!!
Camp Half-Blood Archives
Mykailo is skinning a rabbit carcass solemnly near the edge of the woods. Blood stains their hunting gloves, the pelt hung out to try nearby.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
*Yeah. Also, what is the level range for this quest so I make sure whoever joins in within it*
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
Characters for Tenebris Sine Fine
RoughCoronet's Greater Wills
*YES i really liked your cutscene*
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
*should be 6-12 :) i can adjust around people*
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
"No problem, Nox.. Just glad to have one acquaintance here"
NNCHRIS: SOUL THIEF, MASTER OF THE ARCANE, AND KING OF NEW YORKNN
Gdl Creator of Ilheia and her Knights of the Fallen Stars ldG
Lesser Student of Technomancy [undergrad student in computer science]
Supporter of the 2014 rules, and a MASSIVE Homebrewer. Come to me all ye who seek salvation in wording thy brews!
Open to homebrew trades at any time!! Or feel free to request HB, and Ill see if I can get it done for ya!
Characters (Outdated)
*aww, thanks, I hoped I had done a good job conveying how internally conflicted and… well, messed up Elijah was.*
"lets see" Omar sits down. "if I had to guess, I'd say you're scared. your power is destructive and uncontrolled, and being around other people makes you nervous about hurting them, and being nervous makes your power harder to control, so you stay away from people, right?"
*AGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! you're making it really hard not to Omar her right now! but in addition to that would get me killed, that would also give Omar away!"
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /Moderator of Vinstreb School for the Gifted /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Fun Fact: i gain more power the more you post on my forum threads. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!