Kobold King

On the bright side, I have Deathwish down for "chokes to death on an olive after making a suggestive comment directed at a room full of pretty nurses who know CPR."

Why would she need more of an arc than that?

I'm gonna nip a little misconception in the bud, if you don't mind. "Roleplay," in many ways, is a misnomer for what we are creating here. This is not really a "game" in the conventional sense. There's no way to win. There's no way to lose. It's not a matter of creating a character and trying to keep them alive. What Happened in Oregon is about telling a story. We are writing a collaborative fanfiction based on the world of the Reckoners, where everyone takes the role of writing for a few characters. Your goal is to tell a pleasing, memorable story arc about your character; whether or not the character's goals are ever achieved in that process depends entirely on what type of story you want to go for. To illustrate: I am planning the deaths of several of my characters. I know how they will perish and by whose hands they will fall. I'm not trying to avoid these deaths. I'm actively writing towards those deaths because they'll (hopefully) make for an awesome story. So keep that in mind if you move forward with joining. It's not "you" down there fighting Reckoners. It's your character. You're not playing a game. You're writing a fanfic. You're not winning or losing. You're picking the most satisfying ending for yourself and for the audience you will have. Hope that helps clarify what this project is.

Post up! I call it, In Which Backtrack Meets A Vanilla Who's More Badchull Than Him, And Lightwards Shows Horrifying Disrespect For Human Life. Or, business as usual.

Despite all odds and evidence to the contrary, the man from The Dalles didn't immediately whip out a gun and murder Backtrack where he stood. Instead, for a second he looked almost... amused. “I’m not going to hurt you," the man said in a comforting tone. "I just want you to come back with me to the Dalles, where it’s safe. You’ll be protected from all the dinosaurs and crazy Epics that can get you here in Portland — that sounds nice, doesn’t it?” ...that did kind of sound nice when he put it like that. The Dalles didn't have dinosaurs or crazy murderers, except for the army of sparking pandas that had been ransacking the place when he- It hit him like a sack of bricks. Sudden, unrelenting terror. Countless memories flashed through his mind all at once, all the deaths he'd seen before his eyes, even the ones where he'd stood centuries removed. Lightwards killing and un-killing, killing and un-killing, keeping the cycle of bodies going. Koschei the Deathless slitting a toddler's throat, his mind rotten from reveling in the power. Buildings collapsing into hordes of silverfish, devouring humans and Epics alike. Pandas rampaging through the streets, flying pigs and evil squirrels dropping out of the sky like bombs. Scalpings, genocides, slavery, murders...he tried to comfort himself by looking into the past, but all his mind could be drawn to was all the violence, which there was way too much of since he was standing right outside the fortress of the craziest crazy Epics of them all, and it kept hammering the same awful thought into his head no matter what he tried to take solace in... The world wasn't safe. It had never been safe. It was never gonna be safe! He was doomed! There was nowhere he could go! Anywhere he could go he'd just find more life-threatening insanity coming out of the woodwork to end the tiny terrified fragile ball of helplessness that was Steve Lawrence! He took more steps backwards, backing into a wall. He opened his mouth but it was dry. He wanted to speak but no words came out. He looked to MV, but her face was scrunched up and her fists were balled up tight, like she was feeling the same rush of fear and helplessness as he was. The man from The Dalles... sparks, but he was actually on the ground, tears on his face from whatever the Calamity he was seeing. Backtrack, in spite of all his efforts at resistance, felt a mostly dead emotion trembling somewhere inside himself... sympathy. This man, like Backtrack himself, had seen things. And yet, he stood up. And stranger still, he smiled. "See what I mean?" he asked, voice casual and his smile steady. "Not safe." Backtrack stood still. This guy... was he an Epic? He had to be, right? Whatever just hit them had to be the work of some horrible mind Epic, and there was no sparking way a regular old vanilla who could get killed in a second was gonna smile through something like that. Calamity, Backtrack was an Epic and there was no way he'd be smiling through it! But still the guy was smiling. Not giving off any of the other Epic-vibes Backtrack had steadily learned to pick up on. This guy... was a smiling vanilla. The Dalles... was a place where smiling vanillas still roamed free. Where people who weren't gods were still strong and happy. It was... bizarre. Just flat-out bizarre. Like finding an island where dodo birds still roamed free, squawking happily as they sang dodo songs and broke open coconuts or whatever it was dodos did with their time. The Dalles shouldn't have existed. But it did, and there was something almost... almost very comforting about that fact. And yet... Backtrack found himself beginning to speak, shakily and with fear and despair still cracking in his voice. "I..." He swallowed. "...I can't. Lightwards... he'd know. I don't know how, but he'd know. He'd send someone. I'd die. You don't just walk out on someone like him." Chimera seemed to be of two minds, considering Lightwards' generous proposal with both suspicion and temptation. His various vanilla minions watched him stoically, clearly prepared to follow their leader to the ends of the earth. Such loyalty. He must treat them well. "What of the humans out there?" Chimera asked finally. His face was neutral as he asked the absurd question. "The humans?" Lightwards repeated, raising a quizzical eyebrow in confusion. "You do know of me? To whom you are speaking? The citizens of this city and others are my highest concern." He smiled, and gave a nod to one of his few human Warriors, who stood dully behind one of the allosaur's legs. He was a broad-bodied one, young but already with lines of stress etched across his blank face. The Warrior somehow took the full cue of what was expected of him and trod out into Chimera's view, showing not the faintest trace of emotion. Lightwards calmly stepped forward, pacing a small circle around his Warrior as the suspicious eyes of Chimera's guards looked on. "What was your name?" he asked softly. "Herbert Peters," the Warrior replied in a listless tone. "What was your life before I raised you?" Lightwards pressed. "I lived from street to street, doing work for food," the man responded, still showing no emotion. "My wife was named Sarah. My children were two daughters, Abbie and Kaitlin. We moved frequently to steer clear of Epics." A long pause. "...you killed all three this morning." There was no accusation in the man's tone. No anger. No grief. Only tranquil obedience. Chimera seemed to stiffen, his minions revealing various degrees of anger or disgust at the Warrior's emotionless testimony. Lightwards' smile widened. "And what is your life now, Herbert Peters?" The Warrior responded in a single word. A single, perfect word. "Yours." Lightwards slowly, carefully and in full sight of Chimera's guards, pulled up his jacket and carefully passed his only pistol to the Warrior on display. "Show me," he commanded, and took a few steps back. The Warrior took the pistol, slowly but without a moment's hesitation pressing it to his lower jaw... ...and before Chimera or anyone else could say a word, he blew his brains out. Blood splattered far and the body fell straight to the ground with a dull thud. Lightwards beamed in satisfaction, striding out over the pool of blood and gore spreading out over the concrete. The guards had been startled and now faced guns straight for him, but he paid them no mind. "The humans of this city, and all others, are mine," he proclaimed loudly, meeting Chimera's icy stare. "The animals shall be yours, but Man himself shall bow to me and only me. This is how the future will unfurl. This is how humanity shall move forward. Life and death shall be in my hands, to give or to take, to treasure or to throw away. I alone shall--" Then it hit him like a bullet to the head. He gasped, toppling and physically falling to the ground, crouched on all fours as a wave of memories came forcibly raging through his head. A gunshot straight through his chest... ...falling, endlessly falling, a wicked laugh taunting his powerlessness as he crashed into the ground in a bloody heap. ...eleven bullets, and he slid against a wall and into the darkness of death... And before any of them, haunting only his deepest nightmares, the ones that had plagued him from the start... ...a noose... He let out an involuntary cry, struggling to blot out the images. Never had they all come rushing back to him so suddenly, so without warning. The nightmares, the past, the deaths... He was kneeling in front of Chimera, sprawled out on his hands and knees in the gore of the man he'd just murdered. He was in a vulnerable position, a demeaning one, a weak one... And yet he didn't care. His hands gripped the bloody concrete until his own fingers began to bleed, his dinosaurs letting out low growls all around, agitated by his condition. His body was in a sweat, the world spun around him, and his breath came raggedly. And Thomas Cardinal trembled.

As they whip out their smart phones and snap pictures of it.

So, just checking here... Team Voidgaze is currently either out of sync with time or outside of Quota's range, I'm guessing? But Backtrack and Lightwards should both be affected by the Sonic Depressionboom, right?

Just finished watching Pixar's The Good Dinosaur, and I have only one thing to say.

Steelheart in a nutshell:

I'm fine either way. Backtrack at regular terror mode or Backtrack at HOLY SPARKS I AM SERIOUSLY GONNA DIE BECAUSE I AM A MISERABLE FAILURE AND THE WHOLE WORLD HATES ME OH CALAMITY WHY WHY WHY AKDLFJ WERLKERLAFD mode should be equally fun to write.

Quota's effects should be covering the entirety of the Portland thread right now, right? Because I just felt a sudden hollowing sensation of overwhelming guilt, shame, and desperation putting a boot on my soul and crushing part of the life out of me and felt compelled to put up a post. Hope it's okay. I'm, uh... out of practice.

Outside the museum... was safe. Striding out onto the shattered concrete of the Museum front filled Backtrack with a feeling of contentment. It was good to be out of the tangled jungle of the building, out of the presence of dinosaurs that were sparking everywhere and wanting to eat you, away from those two maniacs who might or might not be real scientists. (But probably weren't.) Here, he was away from all the things that could kill him on an effortless stray whim. Or... well, except technically MV, but she probably wasn't prone to those kinds of whims. At the moment. Probably best not to put too much thought into that. The thing that he needed to focus on was that it was safe out here. The Museum filled with ravenous dinosaurs and insane Epics was at his back, and ahead of him was the comforting sight of the lifeless gray demilitarized zone that was Portland, Oregon. For the moment he could stop worrying and just enjoy a moment of not fearing his sudden horrific death at the paws of marauding panda hordes or swarms of psychically controlled silverfish! To just bask in the knowledge that he, Backtrack, was not going to die here in this God-forsaken-- “You’re not safe here, Backtrack.” AAAAAAAAGH-- All thoughts and mental processes broke down as Backtrack whipped around on the spot, his heart just about jumping out of his chest. There was a man standing in front of the Museum. A man he didn't recognize but knew his name, and thus, logically, wanted to murder him dead where he stood. He had dark skin, dark clothing, and steely dark brown eyes that drilled into Backtrack's soul and proclaimed in a harsh whisper "I want you to be dead right now." And if Backtrack had any reason to doubt his pessimistic first impression--oh, who was he kidding, he was obviously right dead on the money there--it took only a second's glance for his powers to lock on and tell him where this man came from. The series of steps he'd taken in his life had taken him far, but recently, they'd taken him right from The Dalles. The Dalles. Current contender for People-Who-Want-To-Murder-Backtrack Capital of the World. A light squeal erupted from Backtrack's lips before he could stop himself. He tried his best to stiffen himself, giving a formidible face for his own protection... but he only felt his knees lock and his head start to feel faint. "I..." he gulped. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm safe. I'm the spitting image of safe! If you think I'm not safe you're probably just projecting, pal, 'cause... ah sparks he's from The Dalles do something MV!"

And now for a thrilling episode of Wikipedia Out Of Context: Source.

I'd like to think so--all of mine have been lost since the image host site I was using went down--but I don't remember doing any of those.

HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT ANYTHING YOU COULD DO, PUNY MORTAL, IS CAPABLE OF SUMMONING ME FROM MY-- --sparks.

From a meme site:

If there is I can't find it. Might be... misplaced or something.

My brother: "When people argue stuff about politics and religion, they always go for ad hominems. Like, 'you're just a teenager so you wouldn't understand.' I wish you could have conversations about this sort of thing with people who don't know who you are, so they'll just focus on your opinions instead of attacking you." Me: "You realize there was a big experiment where they let people do just that, right?" "Really? When was this?" "The experiment was called 'YouTube comments,' and it went horribly, horribly wrong."

Plumbers are priests who wave toilet plungers around during religious ceremonies.

The immigration forms are hell.

Instructions unclear. Ghost Queen of Scotland wants to marry me. Send help.

A vanara based on a New World monkey would be fascinating; since the original folklore came from India, using a species from the Americas would be a really original way to depict the creature. I have a few suggestions. First, the emperor tamarin. In addition to having one of the most fabulous mustaches in the primate world, the emperor tamarin is known for being extraordinarily social with members of its own group and beyond. Even wild individuals are friendly and even playful with human beings, so a tamarin-based vanara might be good if you want your character to be a charming type who gets along well with members of other races. If it were me, I'd play a tamarin. Then there are howler monkeys. Larger and, as Wikipedia notes, "of a more surly disposition" than the emperor tamarin, howler monkeys are best known for their loud territorial calls, which can be heard up to five kilometers away. They live in groups led by one, occasionally two or three dominant males. They are more aggressive and prone to conflict than some other small monkeys, and while they won't get into a physical fight unless they absolutely have to, severe injuries in both fighting parties generally occur when they do. If you want your vanara to be a grumpy, stoic barbarian type, a howler monkey would probably make a good fit. Finally, spider monkeys. We're now approaching the limits of what I know about New World monkey species, so this'll be the last one. Spider monkeys are so-named for their extremely long arms and legs compared to their bodies, which gives them a very gangly, spider-like appearance. They're not as fierce as howler monkeys but also not as friendly as emperor tamarins; they're more of a middle route. They are extremely social among their own kind and have their own complex language of gestures and calls they use communicate amongst themselves. They are among the most intelligent monkeys in the world, with brains over twice the size of those of the howler monkey species. Hope any of that helps! And congrats on the date, Twi. Hope you had fun, even with the lack of sweet, succulent, fruit-tastic dates.