It feels like it's been ages, but I want one, one, challenge that reminds me of the old fights I have been in, the interesting, albeit naive, battles that established me around here. I like to believe I've improved, and would like to just loosen up and be creative, to come up with interesting things, not rushed, random, pointless things. Maybe even move on to something new altogether in terms of characters. So, I would like to fight a veteran. And I say that liberally; I want to fight someone "Good". Someone generally accepted as hot **** around here. Someone I've never really fought before.
So let's do it.
I miss the commitment I used to have, so whip me into shape. Just ****ing do it. Then, perhaps, I can find my spark again.
I'mma hold on details until someone accepts. Any takers?
Finally Getting Around To A Real Challenge
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
-
HolocaustHybrid
- Member
- Posts: 138
- Joined: Tue Jul 13, 2004 1:00 am
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
Definitely. Definitely.
As far as details go, I'll go ahead and intro as well as pick the battlefield. Likely, the intro will be up by tomorrow, as I have little time tonight... But I won't be forcing myself to keep a schedule as tight as my old one (which was one of the reasons for my burnout) as this place is very much about patience in many ways... I think Joker proved that well enough. :P
I look forward to this, Holocaust.
As far as details go, I'll go ahead and intro as well as pick the battlefield. Likely, the intro will be up by tomorrow, as I have little time tonight... But I won't be forcing myself to keep a schedule as tight as my old one (which was one of the reasons for my burnout) as this place is very much about patience in many ways... I think Joker proved that well enough. :P
I look forward to this, Holocaust.
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
Wisdom is not a toy. Nobody plays around with such a gift. And only a few have it, as is the case with so many other highly lauded qualities. Wisdom is a gift, after all; one that leads you into a place of honor, of power, and sometimes, of insanity. And when one reaches the point of breaking, that wisdom is converted into nothing but eloquently worded drivel. Indeed, when one loses his own mind, things become quite hazardous for most.
To bear witness, no, to prove this, there is Erasmus Sindierus. He was one such man of wisdom, erudite and somewhat of a threat. He excelled, he lived and breathed the unbridled joy of life, and he loved and lived like we all do. Only he did it thoroughly. He did it better. His life was much more powerful, for he was wise, and he was not worried about anything. Some say he lacked a mortal soul or a conscience to be so laid back.
And they were right.
Erasmus Frozenblood 54 ID no. 60982, prototype. A man who was as real as we, but nothing but a shell for an advanced system of blue, ice-cold blood capable of switching temperatures at the master’s whim. His system, his heightened brain, and his able body made him quite the perfect experiment, but the mysterious practitioners of Elemench Vari that created him were displeased. They had him and his life erased, torn from the life he once sat so calmly in. That was where he developed, in a sense, a conscience. Yes, that was indeed where he learned that nothing was worthy, so he began preparing to master his own strength to purge the world, to destroy it. He was a lunatic, not thinking about the fact that he would be unable to manipulate anything but his own highly regenerative body, one that needed no blood to survive… But he effectively brought an end to so many. An end he enjoyed in his own priestly and solemn way.
He walked calmly now as he always did, pacing the lands to find the ones he desired to purify. His limbs pulsed with their own unique ability, the freezing liquid cursing through veins of a strange make and feel. He stared with blank eyes, his expression never changing. His lips were dry and his tongue was as well, his body not nourished. But he had no need or desire at the moment, despite his need to nourish his own very organic system of organs. His hair, white and slicked back, topped a lightly wrinkled brow, and small, narrow eyes. His nose was long and bony, a small tuft of hair protruding from his chin. There was a sort of stubble around his lips and chin due to lack of care over a course of three days, and a robe, long and white and without feature, adorned his body. Uselessly ornate boots adorned his legs, visible as he etched his path in a sort of moonlit field of tall grass.
What was odd about this field, however, was it’s mysterious formation and natural phenomenon.
All around there was grass as tall as a two story building. Rocks, or more or less cubes of stone, adorned the area, like marking stones in this labyrinthine mass of weeds. The grass itself was a fiery autumn red, despite it being mid-spring and the rain and sun being abundant. This place seemed to echo a faint sound of constant walking, as if lost vagabonds continue to calmly wander the seemingly endless ‘forest’.
Erasmus was always in place by accident and yet always in the right place. This was not untrue now, and it never would be. He stared blankly and waited, wandering, wandering, wandering…
And he knew as well as anyone that there was never nobody else around. He knew he was not alone.
OoC: Right. Little bit later than planned, and I don't aim to make excuses, so please accept my apologies.
To bear witness, no, to prove this, there is Erasmus Sindierus. He was one such man of wisdom, erudite and somewhat of a threat. He excelled, he lived and breathed the unbridled joy of life, and he loved and lived like we all do. Only he did it thoroughly. He did it better. His life was much more powerful, for he was wise, and he was not worried about anything. Some say he lacked a mortal soul or a conscience to be so laid back.
And they were right.
Erasmus Frozenblood 54 ID no. 60982, prototype. A man who was as real as we, but nothing but a shell for an advanced system of blue, ice-cold blood capable of switching temperatures at the master’s whim. His system, his heightened brain, and his able body made him quite the perfect experiment, but the mysterious practitioners of Elemench Vari that created him were displeased. They had him and his life erased, torn from the life he once sat so calmly in. That was where he developed, in a sense, a conscience. Yes, that was indeed where he learned that nothing was worthy, so he began preparing to master his own strength to purge the world, to destroy it. He was a lunatic, not thinking about the fact that he would be unable to manipulate anything but his own highly regenerative body, one that needed no blood to survive… But he effectively brought an end to so many. An end he enjoyed in his own priestly and solemn way.
He walked calmly now as he always did, pacing the lands to find the ones he desired to purify. His limbs pulsed with their own unique ability, the freezing liquid cursing through veins of a strange make and feel. He stared with blank eyes, his expression never changing. His lips were dry and his tongue was as well, his body not nourished. But he had no need or desire at the moment, despite his need to nourish his own very organic system of organs. His hair, white and slicked back, topped a lightly wrinkled brow, and small, narrow eyes. His nose was long and bony, a small tuft of hair protruding from his chin. There was a sort of stubble around his lips and chin due to lack of care over a course of three days, and a robe, long and white and without feature, adorned his body. Uselessly ornate boots adorned his legs, visible as he etched his path in a sort of moonlit field of tall grass.
What was odd about this field, however, was it’s mysterious formation and natural phenomenon.
All around there was grass as tall as a two story building. Rocks, or more or less cubes of stone, adorned the area, like marking stones in this labyrinthine mass of weeds. The grass itself was a fiery autumn red, despite it being mid-spring and the rain and sun being abundant. This place seemed to echo a faint sound of constant walking, as if lost vagabonds continue to calmly wander the seemingly endless ‘forest’.
Erasmus was always in place by accident and yet always in the right place. This was not untrue now, and it never would be. He stared blankly and waited, wandering, wandering, wandering…
And he knew as well as anyone that there was never nobody else around. He knew he was not alone.
OoC: Right. Little bit later than planned, and I don't aim to make excuses, so please accept my apologies.