Fairly quaint, humble and receptive she was.  To exchange armaments once anew didn’t seem particularly displeasing, but our hero was neither a lucrative soul nor keen in exchanging a cherished set of gear ---- much alike a lion’s pride.  Albeit, her offer was most promising and regardless of his codes of conduct, our warrior approached the stranger whilst subconsciously the gauntlet remained by the sheathed long sword; none would overthrow or pilfer his wares.

    A simple march, cautiously natural and perhaps unsympathetic of demonstrating some ruthlessness in steps, audaciously ready to invade any private space which was belonged to the one wishing to exchange ---- his mind far too occupied in studying the bizarre human of charred skin.

“Very well, allow me to see your wares.  I do not hold riches, but perhaps we can bargain with a few of my items.  “

His armour was rather… common looking and yet he had a hidden regal air around him. Something about him that screamed that he was so much more. The soul of the Over Lord blisters inside of her but she does not comment on it as she continues to fix the machine, a large monstrosity of sorts. Something dragon worthy, something to kill the wyverns that ravage the land. 

“I am Alm Medell. Pleasure to meet another traveler along the road.” Because everyone else, has turn , what was the phrase? Hollow. Yes, this place, barren and hollow. everything returns to ash, and so is the state of the souls in this land. 

Rain, the dark elf merely goes back to examining her nails, once again sured that the safety of her master is done with. 

Alm, the protag of this story gets out of the pit that is the machine, nails and skin caked with oil and magic as she uses said magic to cleanly remove the oil from her entire being. A clean fix. 

  “I have some potions or equipment that might interest you if your interested at all for new equipment.” She offers, wiping away the sweat off her arms. 

                                           Pawn of flame,                                   blamed and disgraced.

    Unbound by the model designed by fate, he peered unto the other. Speechless, unmovable, a reaper whose scorching iron grimly awaited to brand the lost soul.  Had fear reprimanded the fool too much?  Perhaps the seraphs from above hadn’t received the frail being’s beseech, an inner call for aid?   Sabatons of charred steel pressed harshly against marbled terrazzo, each impact drummed a horrific and impending approach across the castle’s throne room ---- until our deific slayer towered above the lost lamb, a single gauntlet planting a digit below the other’s jaw.  In essence, Lorian was a part residing with Soul of Cinder, a nature which burnt bright, strongly, almost in devotion ---- wishing to protect but. . .    

             . . . without an actual protector around, could a draconic grace survive                                                                                     the heinous judge?

“ Shalt I make this experience, hasty? “

@soulfromcinder

      the Prince glanced over the being. no frown, no visible distaste from him, but mentally he was preparing for something and whether that something be a verbal attack or something else … he knew that there were several that despised him (several would be an understatement. souls and souls hated him for not taking his throne, for not fully imbuing the duties of a Lord of Cinder!), and now he was face-to-face with the Soul of Cinder.

                 “Come to chastise me, have you?”

1 15 26 34 39

                                   𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕖  ▬   𝔸𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘

                                @shattered-geometries Thank you.              

1: How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

Gallant and ruthlessly headstrong.  Bearer of the Curse hails from a poor settlement,in which survival of the fittest is implemented; each soul had to carry theirweight.  In principle his physicalactions are precise, consistently implementing a routine of quick actions andvery active decisions, further declaring that his pace is robustly fast.  Past allies and fellow practice combatantshad spoken of a manifesting aura, a dominant sensation of leadership, an aurawhich bolstered those in the surrounding vicinity; a victor amidst lamb.

So, Bearer of the Curse’s energy is a delicacyof warmth for those seeking a guide, a soul who may lead them amidst turbulenttimes.  Furthermore, by having beenraised in a place where noble practices were lacking, most would deem hismannerisms rather ruthless —- gestures alike, simply unsympathetic of another’sfeelings.

15: What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical?

Hailing from a poor settlement, Bearer of the Cursewas subjected to military drills from early juvenility.  Unlike more developed establishments, especiallylocated in well-developed regions, he had less opportunity to learn a fewmatters.   Regardless, to attainacknowledgment of fellow warriors, he had to be involved in a life-styleheavily focused on military matters, which would boast austerity, strength andabsolute fitness.   Do not mistake this, inbeing labelled a warrior it did not meant a fool with mass and no brains by any means.  Just like receiving arduous regimes, he was also enrolled in whatever academics there were available andwhich broadened the view on mankind and virtues.

Hence, yes, he retains a life style which is richin culture, imaginative, but also practical and cunning.  He is an educated battle worn soul who wouldserve as a competent tutor or pupil alike; truthfully his pride is still anuisance.  

Now how can this be seen in reflection into theoutside?  Simple.  Never can Bearer of the Curse be seen injeopardy, every battle is certainly won, no matter the opponent.

26: How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does?

Women are a means to relieve stress andreproduce.  Commitment is not somethingof his interest, unless someone truly changes his mind through hard work. (  Can be changed, if one is persistent enough in educating him in the importance of the opposite gender. ) 

34:  How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why?

The world is a playground, a recycled battleground that continuouslyevolves.  He hasn’t had much experiencebehind his homeland walls, merely tall tales, drunken rumors but nothingconcrete.  Furthermore, with such heavymilitary influence, Bearer of the Curse believes that the world is merely afair game —- where violence is the key in solving majority of issues.  Perhaps this tunnel vision can broaden, themore he interacts and understands other concepts in life, but for now?  It is frankly and sadly very narrow —- cuttingmajority of opportunities in gaining allies in strange places.

39: What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction?

Two themes, homeland and journey to the FirstFlame.  In a land so ruthless, souls fitfor battle were scarce in his homeland, many born either weak or disabled.  Having been slain prematurely due tobetrayal, Bearer of the Curse often ponders if such mistake made his homelandsuffer?  Had they prevailed?  Perhaps the Abyss consumed them?  Majority of inquiries will always revolveabout the sake and well-being of those who raised him; a narrow sight ofloyalty.  Albeit, with a journey to makeand a flame to discover, those questions always remain unanswered, a weightthat will cripple his sanity and a few nights of sleep unfortunately.

26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does?

                                    𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕖  ▬   𝔸𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘

    Ever desired to have a series of sensualrelationships?  Various partners withoutbeing a culprit?  Well, Soul of Cinder isone of the few rare vessels who can give such an opportunity.   Having ‘ multiple personalities’, ourchampion of the fire would have various points of views towardscommitment.  It would highly differentiateon whichever personality reigns over, as per example seen during the lastbattle in the game.   During the secondphase, instinctively, Gwyn comes to surface and attains the reigns of controleven if in a desperate attempt to slay the invader.

    So, let us swim deeper into this whole idea.  Each personality holds personal tastes, theirviews upon the ideal partner will differentiate dramatically; some may agreeand some may not.  Regardless, wheneverSoul of Cinder attains a spouse, said spouse would need experience in handlinga variety of personalities.  Technicallyspeaking, whichever essence likes or dislikes the partner will come to surface,in other words?  The strongest feelingshall invite a pathway for a personality to invade and take the throne if evenfor a moment.

    To know precisely which personality would accept ornot, this would be something for another thread —- merely for each Lord has adifferent liking or perhaps no liking at all.  But in overall, Soul of Cinder has no personal decision, meaningwhenever a personality is at surface?  Itbelongs rightfully to a hero or Lord who has sacrificed their life in linkingthe flame.    

ooc; Can your 'Chosen Undead' get anymore sad? Lmao He is such a bitter creature. I LOVE HIM. X'DD

𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝔼𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 : Oh, you wouldn’t even know the half of it.  I personally believe that Quelaag, only Quelaag is getting a good treatment.  This bastard can sometimes be even worse than Patches!

ooc; 40 (For all 3 main verses)

                                     𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕖  ▬   𝔸𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘

                                                      40. What do they wonder about?                                    What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why?                                                        How is this expressed, if it is?

𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 :

    Bound to remain a vigilante, our deity’s mind willfrequently wonder as to what remains behind the far mountains.  To be sealed in a selective portion of earthsince birth, it can be mentally exhausting; no essence was meant to becaptivated.  Hence in frequency, when notperched by the First Flame’s beacon, upon the vales edges he stands —-speechlessly peering into unreachable lands stationed beneath the bleeding sun.Even when holding the essence of old Lords and Heroes, there are lapses of timein which they all desert the walking armour…

… and this curiosity almost makes himsuperhuman.

    For those who wish to harm the flame, they too willquit their pointless pilgrimage, and when such happens?  He will venture, discover, and savor the faraway delicacies — for the flavor of blood-stained cosmos doesn’t pass for agood treat.  Furthermore when stargazing,Soul of Cinder subconsciously extends his open gauntlet, cupping thosetwinkling stellar lights in wonderment if any other soul is currently staringinto the very same star as him.

Attention: Each Lord and Hero has their own curiosities, wonders and moments.  Although, this is explicatively orientatedtowards Soul of Cinder as a whole, as a new born, as a being who isn’t beingmanipulated by a specific essence.

ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕: 

    Money, wealth; renowned, praised; vanity andabsolute control.  Yes, superficialspeculations is what fluctuate within his vain mind, stimulating ideas as towhenever his progenitors still live.  Oftenif not frequently, Chosen Undead will be lost in thought, separated from otherhuman beings whilst traversing wild fantasies. Whenever seen leaning against a surface whilst his left gauntlet remainsresting at the waist, while the other merely hangs —- then he ispondering.  

    Now, touching regards of sparking hiscuriosity?  Other’s items andpartners.  Oh yes, Chosen Undead willdiscriminate and attempt to belittle other human beings — if their belongingsare better.  As per example, if acompanion has a worthy spouse, he will willingly attempt to attain someone whois supremely better and then rub it gently upon the companion.   If it is armament?  He won’t steal, but he might sink to theextent as to sabotage their gear and merely point out the faults later.

    This poor excuse for a human being needs arighteous hand to aid him, or perhaps a partner to augment that poisonousattitude.

𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖:

    Intermittently asks oneself, whenever his villageendured through the change of time or not. Our lion when not venturing and attending to the fixing of armament, heremains perched by cackling bonfires. Argent gauntlets will fondle with a trinket, rightfully bestowed by asupportive father in dark times.  Bearerof the Curse will always have a spark of curiosity, whenever to venture andreturn, but with an impending task as to find the ‘First Flame’, it isimpossible.

    In other occasions,if another living being is to perhaps demonstrate a new trick?  Purposely, our lion will raise from his seatand lounge closer, perhaps even next to the other.  Attentively he will barrage the ‘tutor’,wondering whenever the trick will be of any use in combat or anythingrelevant.  In conclusion, he is a verycurious being and unlike the other two above, he will always seek to learn morefrom others —- even if arrogantly.

–  GET TO KNOW YOUR RP PARTNER

( repost, don’t reblog ) tagged by: @shattered-geometries Allow me to thank you, for tagging me into this.

B A S I C S

name: Rene pronouns: He / him  sexuality: Heterosexual zodiac: Pisces

five facts:

1.  I used to house 20 puppies. 2.  I like to jog either very early or very late. 3.  I tend to tap my foot whilst waiting, it distracts me for several minutes. 4.  Reading books and listening to audio book too, a good way to develop your writing.  5.  Always seeking for more and more people to embark on journeys with my characters.

E X P E R I E N C E

how long ( month / year ) : If I am to be accurate, I would say something surrounding nine to ten years.  platforms you’ve used: Msn, Bebo, Tumblr, Myspace.  Probably much more, though, I am pleased with the current platform. best experience: Possibly over at my Kaneki Ken profile, where Kaneki had to flee from a serial killer and killer ghost who used a paper bag for his head.

M U S E   P R E F E R E N C E S

female or male: To be frank, I’d rather write as male characters.  I’ve done so my whole life, I do not see myself changing. 

favorite face:  Something not widely used, perhaps something originating from a popular author and yet the product isn’t popular in itself. 

least favorite face: Definitely not an overused face claim.  I would wish to use something, which clearly would imprint into the minds of individuals.  

W R I T I N G   P R E F E R E N C E S

fluff, angst or smut:   To be frank, I’ve role-played for quite a long time.  So between them, I would say all three.  Why?  Well, let us per-say imagine, a character requires various balances in life to acquire certain progression ---- clearly all three above are ideal. 

plots or memes: Plotting is ideal but memes can be just as fun.  If I was to select one over the other, I would prefer plotting. 

long or short replies: Threads which are extensive, without a shred of doubt.  It allows more space for description, actions, development, feelings, thoughts and what not.  Surely, short replies allow for quicker responses, but let us be frank?  Depending on how well your partner knows you, knows your character and how you portray them?  Long threads would be ideal, short ones being good for crack posts and what not. 

best time to write: Sometimes in the morning, before starting your day.  Thinking when your head is clear is fantastic, so I do recommend that. 

are you like your muse?: Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? ** chuckles **

tagging: @q-uelaag @delightful-envy @asheflare @illulustre @saintoflondor @undeadchosen  @admovicca  @overlordvessal --- and whoever else wishes to do so.

𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔬𝔫:

         “ — give’th them power & they seek it further, as it were. “ 

         if it hadn’t been for the grim nature of the situation he could’ve laughed, much like an almighty would if they were asked their opinion on the plight of man. the worth in the soul’s voice resonated within himself, disturbingly so. without an attempt towards his life the once-heir gave way to the crackling of embers, sharp tones of white & red harnessed around him; a slight change in size, dramatically, yes, but only enough to be of similar height. had the armor of the invader not been so damaged he’d have ended his trial.

        “ doth thou heareth it ? from above ? the eternal sky torn asunder by wings ? “ a single hand was raised, index pointed skyward; the once rulers of man, with whom were allied to his cause, were graceful in flight. they thrived, aged, yes, but alive nonetheless. they were pure yet had known only war & arms, much like him prior to the fixation on his “ fall “. the point of his monologue was perhaps lost, though, in earnest, it mattered little. the tension grew considerably as he caught wisps of a voice much unlike his own.

       “ the great wyverns are my fiercest loyalist, yet they betray their kings if weakness is’t shown…— hear, knight, i know not of this hollow— he hath taken not a single step upon my dominion. “

                                                 Son of man,                                         puppet of wyverns.

    It was no false proclamation, far from it in fact, it was vividly visible.  Our ex-deity took attention by averting an unseen gaze above, studying various reptiles whose anatomies had gained unthinkable mass; dragons in their own beauty.  Soul of Cinder remained commanded by a hero of old, someone who held no hostility to dragons and hence, in their glory he found a momentary desire to study them.   “  A curious fact, which is most wondrous, not to instigate any behoveful violence; unless we wisheth to invoke their wrath. “ Majority of the cacophonies which erupted in the previous monologues were no more, giving pathway to a gallant and charming voice, husky due to the compression of the helm, but the benevolent charade couldn’t be kept for long and with seconds past. 

    “ Argh!! “ Sudden, spearing across the innards of consciousness they erupted, voices of various scales.  They chanted, screamed, implored and dictated so ferociously that the gargantuan armour fell unto one knee.  Shamelessly? Perhaps, but this punishment severely crippled the invader, causing the coiled blade to slam unto the terrazzo below, whilst occupied gauntlets grasped unto the helm.  “  Urgh! ERGH!!, “   ‘save him’, ‘embrace him ‘‘liberate him’, ‘KILL HIM! ‘  soon they all hushed as if pacified.  

    Bestowing images of weakness before the dragons was a sin, but, unaware they remained that a reaper had surfaced.  Recovering from the kneeling stance and grasping unto the fallen blade, Soul of Cinder’s left palm exploded in magnificent light as a ‘Sunlight Spear’, a doctrine taught solely by a powerful Lord came through.

    An adamant and authoritative voice spoke as snapping thunder danced around the palm, plasma in its rawest form.  The manner of speech resembled none else but one truly, one who might perhaps even jog the other’s mind, but this was no pleasant reunion.  Before any actions could be committed, Soul of Cinder took an Olympian's stance and threw the spear of light into heavens above as proof that he wouldn't bow to any dragon ---- it would only be a matter of time before it could explode as if a mortar to reign death upon the winged serpents, and then the attention fell all on the exiled son.

“Has't thee finish jesting, dragon rid'r? Or shalt I educate you, against the art of desertion."

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔢:

Quite a charmer this one was, speaking s u p p l e  words like ‘melodies’ and finest ‘poetry’, the honeyed version of tactics meant to swoon.. - but whom? The true ‘fair lady’ lingered amongst those whiter silks far down below. Perhaps, maybe, this being just a childish thrill? Mockery? Oh, the elder sister wasn’t new to this ‘game of masks’ and thus, the monstrous lower half had its majestic spider head ‘caressed’ in tenderness, like a show of false calamity. After all, lonely hunter spiders adored to  P L A Y.                She had some time to K I L L.

“.. Ah..  To be compared to the maidens of far seas and vast sapphire skies.. Thou mind has truly become lonesome, bearer of meat..” Long nails glistening in colours of wilted roses continued to caress the fanged beast, soothing, keeping it CALM upon a frighteningly SHORT leash. “Albeit, even if… “ She had no intentions of letting him go. “Forget not their tales. A knight like thyself should become ‘mine’ treasure instead… no.. ~ ?”

Indeed. If such cavern was an OCEAN and he, the seeker of fantasies, it was time to finally kneel and listen to the witch’s most wicked song yet. The only tranquillizing melody worth sleeping to for all eternity. A delightful lullaby in a place so deeply buried beneath the wretched s k y, harsh stone and floating webs twinkling like apricot painted stars in her F I R E.

“By the gleam I witness and closeness thou grant, dare I wonder if henceforth.. thou are ready to sink unto darkest of depths…?” Foolishness, ploy or even none, it truly mattered not. Never once it did. Quelaag’s currently free ivory hand slowly begun to ascend and once high enough, tenderly c a r e s s her long hazel hair which covered both naked breasts in show of seduction; the false welcome; a charming deceit.

He was already too far g o n e in this play-pretend game. The colossal spider has long time ago ascended its burning (frontal) legs and positioned them at an angle which posed a clear warning for the man who became blinded with foolishness named ‘LOVE’. It was a pity, truly, for he admittedly possessed a face worth pure ‘diamonds’..

“.……Perhaps, thou are..?” Allowing for the once small smile to playfully widen, the Witch of Chaos spared a brief moment to laugh lightly - just barely audibly over the c r i s p crackle of flames behind. “Haha..  Ohh, I thank thee for the most pleasant time. ~ ”She couldn’t recall when was the last time she had spoken this much with anyone else but dear ‘Fair Lady’ herself? If at all? Still, never-mind. Suddenly both of those scorching legs descended at frighting haste and aimed their sharp ends at the Chosen’s kneeling frame, almost looking as if gigantic burning spears. Now judging from such fatal closure? This was to be a a WORLD of a PAINFUL farewell.

       “..Dream well now..”

                                                   Love,                                   so bountifully painful.

    Hah!  Testing me? Fool, charmed & purblind; lunacy incarnate for he remained unmovable. Mesmerized in fictional fantasy, our Chosen Undead’s unruffled ogling prevailed in fixation which was wholly devoted unto the ungodly bosom of a ‘ monster girl ‘.  Beauty, class, finesse; qualities discovered only in ‘Empresses’, thus to have traveled such long distance to pay testimony to such wonderful temptress --- it was proof that he would be willing to melt with her, to fuse and bring forth a supernova of sensations.   Moist lips curved their tails, cutting a charming smile whilst unbeknownst of her true intent, willingly the fool opened both arms to reveal his breastplate ----

                                                    Hit me.

    Stooges exist in generous amounts but none, not one; truly descends to such preposterous sink.  In a flash they perforated through steel, impaling and crushing what little trinkets remained inside; love in raw form.  Our Chosen Undead’s eye’s snapped in surprise, crystalline overtook both irises whilst globules of viscous and warm sanguine dripped; she remained beautiful even in death.  At last it had happened, provoked?  Yes, absolutely, many would even dictate that such event was most deserving but even then, even in betrayal he gazed unto her tempting gaze ---- lovingly accepting her tying gift.  

    Oh, how she raptured him; simply toxic.  In time Fate had cut the red string of life, and when so was done? Then he laid, a marionette whose head hung whilst sun kissed locks veiled an empty gaze, a true martyr in this love charade.  Piece by piece, each puzzle shard began to diffuse from his whole being, shattering into shards before falling into ash unto the ground below and at last she had her precious silence --- no more jesters to amuse her in a place so shallow of life.

    A distance not so afar, a glimmering luminescence erupted from the swamp’s bonfire, godly warmth soon followed and at last an outline was designed.  Our story wasn’t over, in fact, far from it.  Collapsing unto both guarded knees and gasping for oxygen, Chosen Undead anxiously massaged both gauntlets across the now sealed breastplate; where were the punctures?  Gone? Dear Lord, how vicious?  I cannot even begin to comprehend it.  Only now he thought, cleverness had not saved him from the prior encounter but it wasn’t like it was going to change much.   Ah, I see. . . I must’ve been brash.  It matters not, I shalt conquer a mistress so divine regardless.  Lost, scampering in fantasy concepts once again, he rejoiced merely in contemplation of attaining approval and possibly a bonus; bed her.

                                    --- Humanity Attained. ----

    Sabatons of stainless steel skewed across a familiar soil, silky webs saturated and cleansed the impure oils of the swamp. At last, her sweet abode and rather elegant doorway; as if a crevice could be deemed a door.  Our Chosen Undead retrieved a small glass flask, its innards encapsulating an aphrodisiac meant to lure any manner of women ---- a scent perhaps forbiddingly used to entice members of power within a court.   (In simplicity, a perfume for men.)

    A ‘pop’ followed suit to the plucking of a wooden lid, whilst crystal clear liquid poured unto a clean gauntlet.  One dosage, cheap stakes working at the market that couldn’t even grant more than the said quantity --- hopefully their bigoted words would serve true.  So it came to this, inhaling sharply and becoming adamant about the whole situation and abruptly he marched!  Heavy footsteps crushed between silky pathways, gauntlets pushed aside veils meant to deter intruders and no sooner he entered into the maw of the beast. Once in clear view, where perhaps his visage could possibly examine her own again?  Charmingly and adamant, his voice reverberated, a proud knight wishing to impress a lady in clear “distress “--- why else would she have pierced him?   Fool, cannot even recollect her intentions.

“Mine Lady!  It is I, thy knight who returned aft’r thy trial.  I beseech an audience, so thine own heart may be mine!  “

𝓒𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 & 𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔤 // Love struck

42 character development questions!

PHYSICAL PRESENCE AND GESTURE. 1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? 2. How much physical space do they use, active and at rest? 3. How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd? 4. What is their size and build? How does it influence how they use their body, if it does? 5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why? 6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these? 7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these? 8. Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell? 9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions? 10. What energizes and drains them most? 11. How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use? 12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands? DISPOSITION AND TEMPERAMENT. 13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed? 14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? 15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives? 16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like? 17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person? 18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why? CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS. 19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why? 20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships? 21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why? 22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ? 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? 24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference? 25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? 26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does? ACTIVITIES AND PREFERENCES. 27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why? 28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why? 29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative? 30. What is their preferred level of activity and stimulation? How do they cope if they get either too little or too much? 31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why? 32. Do they have any “props” that are a significant part of their life, identity, activities, or self-presentation somehow? What are they, how are they used, and why are they so significant? How would these props’ absence impact them, how would they compensate, and why? THINKING AND LEARNING. 33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things? 34. How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why? 35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them? 36. How much do they rely on their minds and intellect, versus other approaches like relying on instinct, intuition, faith and spirituality, or emotions? What is their opinion on this? 37. Have they had any special education or training that colors their means of learning about or understanding the world? Conversely, do they lack some kind of education considered essential in their world? What kind of impact has this addition or lack had on them? 38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? 39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction? 40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is? FREE FOR ALL. 41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why? 42. I have a question of my own!

Dear bearer of the curse. What’s the funniest dream you’ve ever had? :3

 “Tsk, you’re feelin’ funny Itake? “

    A good question, truly itwas.  Perched by an ongoing bonfire in awinter night, our Bearer of the Curse remained speechless whilst in the companyof a grey one. These bizarre souls were encountered once in a while, at thevery least their inquiries were hospitable enough not to infuriate him.  Regardless, impaling a sausage and letting ithang over the sizzling flame he continuously rummaged through muddled memories,finally encountering a rather disturbing sight.

“. . If you have to know.  Funny to most, not funny to me, I was makingout with someone; she was perfect.  Neverseen a better woman, though, when I realized —- she had a primordial serpent’s head … never had I woken up in sweat. “ ( For those curious, click here for the horror – > x )

    One could have sworn that adistressed scoff escaped the helm, how glad he was, the helm kept his facialfeatures hidden; his disgust and worry for his mental sanity.

. . . .?

         The inside of the castle was just as chaotic as the outside, mirroring          the unparalleled hell. The candlelit halls, containing monks and          deacons that chanted their Queen’s holy scriptures, were drowned out          by the sound of steel boots marching and sporadic yells slicing the air.          The ground was unstable for a brief moment; like an earthquake had          ripped through the very High Wall and the castle itself, though when          the situation began to realize, people would wish it was merely a          natural disaster.

         Deeper within the bowels of the kingdom, a deity stirred. The most          immediate thing on the elite knight’s mind were the safety of their          Queen. Lothric had taken a mighty blow when their King’s mental          health declined and went missing, and thus the protection for their          remaining ruling monarch and her royal children was paramount.

         The captains were already working overtime in making sure their          faithful were kept secure (as well as the royal treasury) as their godly          Queen made it no secret she favoured the religious in their trinity of          ruling. The clergy were ushered further away from public eye while          many rushed to the ruler’s chambers.

         Gwynevere was lurched over one of the altars, hands turning white          from gripping it’s marble surface, hair spilling over her shoulders and          obscuring her face as she willed herself to steady. Age had not been          kind to her health, even if it gave a pass at her vanity – long had she          become frail; weak. She had heard – nay, she had FELT it’s arrival          the moment it happened. A morbid thought crossed that perhaps her          borrowed time was due; and Nito’s reapers had come to collect their          toll.

         Paranoia trickled in the back of her mind like a steady stream of cold          water – perhaps it was the Pontiff of the Boreal Valley coming to claim          her for his false Saint. Or, maybe the fire God had not taken her divorce          as easily as she had thought and decided to strike her when she was          at her weakest. She had too many enemies, and all of them wanted her          dead.

         Her thoughts jumped to her children and her heart quivered for          them. They were likely more capable than her, yet an innate instinct          drove her to protect them, even if the twins exceeded her in power.          Just as she decided, she rose, and one of her knights burst into her          chambers.

                 “Most holy Queen, we must evacuate thee to safety. The                   Kingdom is under assault by some kind of wrathful fiend.” he                   informed, strong tone belying his fear. “We–”

          She cut him off, turning to face the knight with a stony expression.

                  “ – we must stop him, at all costs. We will see this enemy, and                   plan accordingly. Lothric may fall but it can be rebuilt – the                   Princes, must be moved to safety. That is an order.”

         The knight looked as if he wanted to defy that request, yet thought          better of it. Gwynevere was both a queen and a god – there was          little room for argument. As he left, the deity drew in a breath to          prepare herself.

                Hell has arrived, and she was about to go and stare it down.

                                         God, bless those of faith,                                for Hell’s maw remained unhinged.

    “TAKE FORMATION!! NO FIEND SHALT PAST, NONE! “  Uncounted, each distinctive soul amassed in liberal sacrifice, a union risen to serve as a rampart of human flesh & steel; martyrs of  glorious Lothric.  Respectful and experienced, a living embodiment of war stood vigil, stellar in warfare and at such moment, it was time to prove that his kingdom was no laughing stuck; eternal devotion.  Stationed upon the battalion’s rearward, the captain’s gauntlet rested anxiously upon a steel visor, chanting its downfall until all vision declined into a tunnel --- was this monster, truly as powerful as the scout had spoken? Hesitance held no seat in a battlefield.

    Oh, how soothingly and dauntingly it settled, absence of sound as if all life ceased to exist.  Unhindered by fear they remained, two hundred men of honor, chained by valor and ready to attain another victory for their devoted Queen.  There was no certainty, no true definition of who the enemy was, that sensation of unknown had always been an alienating feeling as if not crippling ---- who or what would they face?  Intelligently the captain had already redirected other battalions, their purpose was to escort Lothric’s children into bastions of safety; nothing could penetrate a solid force of dozens in steel and so he believed that two hundredth could stand their ground, until reinforcements arrived.

    “ARCHERS, prepare thy arrows!  Upon my signal, rain DEATH upon thy enemy! “At last the sound had arrived, an impregnable sound that wormed and borrowed deeply into each of their bones; gnawing at their marrows.  Soul of Cinder’s magnificent and battle worn visage a marvel in sight, unchained by fear, unbeaten by time ---- ascending so uncaring along the extensive stone stairway leading to the main chapel.   Many curious minds couldn’t possibly comprehend as to why, why be there a warning as if a dragon had descended upon their kingdom? And yet here they were; awaiting to battle a single man.  In relentless scrutiny they misjudged, calculating this to be a façade or perhaps a drill to consistently keep their experience on edge . . .

. . . but, how sweetly mistaken they were.  

    Unknowingly the captain traveled betwixt guards, wishing to deter the intruder’s intentions with civilized peace treaties. Victor instinctively acknowledged that the other was no lamb, much alike a wolf adorned in sheep skin, but something subconsciously chanted for a talk --- something to hesitate in more blood being shed.  Sabatons marched coherently in valorous steps and no sooner he stood afar from the main force, yet strangely the opposite figure didn’t seem to halt ---- and the more Victor stared into the opponent’s visor. . . .  there was only a blackened nothingness.

“.  .  . MEEEEEN!   FIREEEEEE!!!! “  

    Hundredth knelt aback from hoisted shields, hundredth tugged upon their strings of death.  Soon the sun gave no luminescence for dozens of cascading arrows descended, heads piercing through thin oxygen and in immediacy they pierced the walking deity.   Soul of Cinder’s anatomy turned at each suckled impact, yet once riddled with an unthinkable horde of inanimate war heads --- he too remained unmovable at the top of the stairway.  

                                              --- Pain ---

    Astonishingly they sizzled, every puncture poured a viscous cardinal juice, reminding our deity that his essence remained among  the living --- absolutely divine.  Each living witness gawked as their bows became reloaded, steadily they observed how their enemy’s body gained motion, a marionette tugged by a deity’s strings; standing ever so strong.  Soul of Cinder craned his helm unto untarnished heavens above, basking in marvelous sunlight’s warmth as his entire outlines became engulfed in a blazing and ever consuming blaze.  A flame so volatile that green lushes in the surrounding vicinity ignited, a combustive beauty that truly painted a horrifying picture of devastation ---- the trees that adorned the pathway up from the barbican to the chapel burnt.

    So they wished to battle?  Fools, martyrs whose vessels would savor the power of light. As soon our intruder peered directly into the forces: a miracle erupted, an unfathomable act truly fit for a Lord of Cinder; a spear of plasma and absolute beauty.  Its serpentine body erupted from accumulated faith and firmly the left gauntlet grasped unto it, illuminating the field in an even brighter light in comparison to the burning trees ---- but an order came through too in retaliation, “  FIRE !!! “

    Victor shouted whilst pondering how he had risen to battle every manner of spell caster, but none, none; ever truly came to match a legend from a buried past. Alas as they shot a hundredth arrows so too did he, Soul of Cinder took a stance of an athletic Olympic and threw the sunlight spear, its colossal fortitude had smitten majority of the arrows and even torn apart a hole through the accumulated nebulae.  The knights of Lothric exhaled in contemplation of their enemy’s failure . . . but why did he throw it in such a bizarre unorthodox toss?   Neither them nor Victor truly understood, why did the colossal combatant start to march in such courageous display too?  But then it dawned upon the veteran, that the spear which traversed the heavenly canvas was so alike the paintings in the scriptures, the bolt which defeated many dragons at a time,  “  I – It can’t be. . . “

    Hesitatingly peering above, a hushed self-prayer exited as if a silent murmur before those two hundredth men became bombarded.  One spear of sunlight to serve as a mortar of absolute destruction, and in their death, our Soul of Cinder pushed open the main chapel’s strong gates as to where every zealot preached.   The holy house that served as a gateway to reach the upper level where the pathway to the main keep resided, along with the King’s private garden.  Furthermore, since there were so many who preached housed in their respective quarters, as soon Cinder entered the holy house, he couldn’t see anything else but dozens of souls praying determinedly to their Queen and Goddess . . .

. . . the name they chanted, it brought memories. . .

    Meanwhile a full hand of maidens and guards remained by the Queen’s side, escorting her through her decision, hopefully praying that their highness would not take the most obvious route.  

“ Shalt we take a route of safety, thy imperial Highness? “

𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝓒𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 & 𝔊𝔴𝑦𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢 // Reaper.

𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣 : 

Likewise known as father to ‘ Lightning Spear’, miracle trademark of the founder of ‘Light Soul’.  Lord Gwyn’s campaign was no miracle, quite the contrary, it was a downright bloodbath.  A  declining warfare serving as an eve to humanity’s fruition, and even with the formidable aid of several Lords and legions ---- sunlight proved a superior victor.  Gwyn was revered for his battle hardened leadership  in combat, strategic intelligence and practice of unparalleled faith; a god encapsulated in a human vessel.  By mastering the ‘Light Soul ‘, our Lord of Sunlight was able to channel faith and manifest his belief in raw form, a materialized surface of plasma that could pierce even the fiercest of surfaces.

Knowingly, dragons were accounted for their invincibility:  proudly, for they could withstand majority of miracles and spells cast at them, hardened scales ricocheted man made steel and hence --- their superiority.  Regardless, by manipulating faith and amalgamating the ‘Light Soul ‘, Gwyn could conjure spears of sunlight, sufficiently powerful to render any manner of steel aside, especially if they could tear asunder the immortal scales. 

Hence if Soul of Cinder is to summon any ‘Sunlight Spears’, it is highly advisable to not come into contact.  Such an attack can inflict devastating damage, shatter equipment and cripple opponents.

Attention: Unlike shown in game mechanics, in realism, plasma in an era where steel is the only surface of protection, it truly proves as a source of unrealistic power.  Rightfully spoken, if an opponent is battling Soul of Cinder and is pierced by a spear, this can even impale and anchor an enemy to a surface --- until the miracle is extinguished.  

. . . . . ?

Of course, those attuned to the Dark flourished during its age; and this remnant of the original humanity was no different. The witch looked over the flickering spark, and found it wanting. Her blackened soul, twisted  by inherent nature, took no solace in the new world, but at least it was something different.

“You speak of us so casually; but who are you? A coal, too far from  its smith? This land is unfit for fire, any-more. My sorceries need not be hidden; surely you could find finer teachers in Londor.”

    Venomous were their nature, words of spite spewed from a bona fide soul; how quaint. Cackling embers hummed their popping sounds, shrouding the shrine in a most eerie mantle, truly tugging at the cured heart strings of our remnant of a past era.  If the gods truly had found darkness as a suitable Lord then why, why raise a kindled spirit; an unwavering flame who wouldn’t bow to any soul.

“Well spoken; a coal perhaps I am.  One who shall kindle an era, one in which you shall be shunned. “

    Oh, how predatorily those visual organs remained, their cognac circles rotating ever so playfully around the centered vermilion; where her reflection remained imprisoned.  Huskily a threat escaped betwixt divorced lips, followed by a warm huff in clear annoyance --- her tutoring ability being a necessity.  Our heroic relic ascended from the seated position, peering down almost in superiority and a clear remark that an ancient hero was patronizing her lack of respect, a fitting example of witches --- poor behavior.

“Choose wisely as to who you deny knowledge, do  you wish to still remain by your denial? “

𝔖𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯:

soulfromcinder started following you

Machines were… expensive to maintain. Much less those that can kill high class demons in a instant. A machine made from junk, no less was difficult to maintain and yet expresses cheapness. This area, full of rotted souls and the like, needed to be cleaned and purified. Which, is by the way not her speciality.

She is elbow deep into a machine that was shaped like a dog, with a heavy crossbow attached when she hears footsteps. 

  “Oh, hello there.”

Beside her, a dark skinned elf with her left arm, all mechanical stands guard and ready should the intruder stand as an enemy. 

 “Surprising, rare are the times I encounter a living soul --- one who hasn’t fallen into insanity. “

    To beseech for sanity in a homeland of affliction, madness in the rarest of forms.  It had been days, oh so many since any words were spoken, when had someone’s soothing voice greeted him?  Our Bearer of the Curse was no gentle soul but to audibly pay witness to the countless moans of agonized souls; eloquently dehumanizing. He hadn’t taken offence to the impious scrutiny of the bystander, far from it, a dirty scrutiny was much more welcoming that faithful deacons attempting murder upon our faithful warrior.

    Unsympathetic to their cause as his crusted heart cared none, casually he remained vigilant by a tree torn in half.  To be frank, he had captured a weird sensation, something which gnawed upon the back of a worried consciousness, little nippers who pinched and alerted that the world he knew was no more.  Ever since entering through a doorway covered in a thick miasma, our heroic figure had been roaming lands filtered with alien beasts.

    Titanic serpentine masses, cadavers accursed to never sleep, figures of untold horrors; a different reality that appeared in parallel accuracy to his own.  Surely he was surprised by the mechanical mass, a beast of steel and a human with charred flesh and knife ears?  This was becoming more and more interesting, he merely scoffed; perhaps demonstrating an ounce of racism or displeasure?

“Who are you. . . ? “

Not everyone likes me, but not everyone matters.

Unknown (via deeplifequotes)