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Sword

  • OOC

    I N T R O - ductions&salutations
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    PORT EXAMPLES.
    		• friendly af.
    • China timezone (UTC + 08:00)
    • works promptly from Thursday to Monday
    • off Tuesdays and Wednesday
    • a social butterfly sometimes
    • RPs drunk sometimes
    • slightly ratchet
         		• era flexible
    • no-consent
    • open to all RP themes
    • interested in darker tones
    • romance can be okay but. . .
    • godmodding is a no-no
    • powers used sparingly

  • Guestbook

    • The Wanderer (played anonymously) || December 13 2016, 8:02am

      "
      //
      //

      The adamant suggestion was made and the call for singularity forced a tug-of-war beneath fur and bone. The rolling thunder of laughter was silent, the calm before the inevitable storm. Heavy were the steps across the metaphoric threshold, past the real into ethereal. Down came its skull, beheaded with spindly hands whose bone gathered flesh seemingly from thin air. What witchery was this? Surely it was illusionary. Nay, it was as real as the trees bending in the stirring winds.
      As soon as one had begun their emergence they fled. A stillness took hold, headless and unmoving until finally a whirlwind of inky tendrils unraveled. From the darkness of the figure reached a pitch-dipped hand and half-smudged smiling façade cut the monotonous monochrome.
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      "By what right do you claim to have to ask for us? Our desires are cold flesh and bone, you are neither.” The witch's judgement was as heavy handed as they came, for she spared no one the lash of her sharp tongue. Held tall and true with a poise and march that could and would crumble cities to ruins, dauntless she came to stand, eyes like boiling potions with their own aim unassisted but the static angle of a severely sculpted face.
      "

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    • Lumina Silver (played anonymously) || December 8 2016, 5:56pm

      "N2Jnsu7.gif"

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    • The Wanderer (played anonymously) || December 4 2016, 1:50pm

      "
      //
      //
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      Not a word uttered, only the groan and creaking of a tree standing tall against strong winds. In the calm before such a storm a light burned and chattering teeth brought twine-tied skull to life - a rumbling crescendo of laughter in deepened pitches.
      "Move on, you know not what you ask."
      "

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