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etymologyofmind · 10 months

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The Hounds at Heel

Previously...

And Now...

Often bloodied are bared teeth: a Klingon proverb from a more romantic era, when such a statement was cautionary rather than something used as dubious encouragement. Durok considered it as he tasted blood in his own grit toothed grimace, breathing in the smoke of his fiery bridge, and glared balefire through the flickering viewscreen at the pack of hounds that pursued them. Two days had passed since the Vellouwyn had destroyed and crippled their latest pursuers, and the pack had returned in force since, with new ships and new weapons and new tactics to teach them of their inferiority. It worked, too: the Vellouwyn hadn’t been a warship at the outset, despite her better-than-average endowments, but the pursuers were made for brutality, and it had been clear all along that all that was needed for victory was the decision to take it.

Nevertheless, several of his advisors in the Cultural Sciences had advised that it was likely part of their society to make an affair of embarrassing prey, bringing them death by a thousand cuts, maintaining military superiority and a state of terror while causing the least actual damage for as long as possible. ‘Run. Hide. Flee. Prey.’ They were to be the fox, harried by their hounds, until exhaustion took them and they offered no more game.

The new ships worked in sets, pairs or threes, setting traps with energy snares that pulled her jarringly off course, or washing subspace wakes through the Vellouwyn’s warp field which sent shear forces through her hull. There were others coming, too: long distance sensors detected a small fleet massing, but moving at no great haste, gathering at a leisurely pace as if to fete the demise of their prey. It was galling, insulting, and petty, and despite himself, Durok could not help but fall prey to the goad: this was his ship, his mission, and his crew, and not only were they in absolute mortal peril, it was being drawn out like a game by an enemy who would not even face them.

So far there had been three casualties: Ensign Parva Hashjat, a specialist in solar architecture, had succumbed to the injuries he had sustained in the first attack alongside Commander Thomas, who was still sedated, clinging to life with dwindling prospects; Petty Officer Rowan MacDougal had been unfortunate, perhaps hasty, and had not tethered to the rail on the upper engineering deck when one of the snare traps had jerked the Vellouwyn around like a snagged fish: she’d broken her neck in the fall, dying almost instantly; and finally, Crewman Anan, one of Star Fleet’s first J’naii servicemen, who had been interested in enlisting after their tour with the Vellouwyn, only to be ended by the consuming fire of an overloaded plasma conduit. When a member of a Star Fleet crew died, it was not always clear to whom the responsibility of informing next of kin would fall, but Durok took their deaths as a personal loss, and it was his sad duty with each life lost to compose a saga due to their honour and dignity, that their families would take solace in the meaning of their demise. The sound of their litanies played a crushing barrage in his ears as he considered the vengeance he wished to reap of their murderous killers.

The loss of MacDougal had been particularly challenging in the moment, as her role in the upcoming experiment was a crucial one. While Lieutenant Jan’aar was a genius in warp technology of his own right, Rowan had been an inspired and creative experimental thinker in the field, and she had been one of the think tank team who had concocted their desperate escape plan from the endless hunt. Her calculations and simulations had been run and rerun throughout the ship, being vetted and reconsidered and refined between some of the Federation’s finest available minds, and deemed feasible. It would be desperate, and it would take luck, but the conditions here and now were good enough, given the alternative of being lightly abraded out of existence. As it was, they would need to make do, and improvise to the best of their ability if something went awry. If they succeeded, Jan’aar had sworn the maneuver would be called MacDougal’s Gambit: an honour Durok found quite fitting.

As the hunter fleet began to draw closer and closer, Durok hoped that they would be able to pull off the gambit before being overwhelmed by their attackers. It was clear that the ceremony of the hunt was coming to a close, and the rest of the pack were coming in for the kill. In an effort to conserve themselves for the plan, the Vellouwyn had feigned critical damage to their primary warm systems, and were limping by on secondary systems, struggling along at factor 3: the Engineers had proposed that dropping their speed would help sell their ruse when they eventually made their bid for escape, but it drew out the amount of time it would take them to get to their staging point.

As such, every hour of the past few days had been harrowing, to the point where Commander Barr had ordered Ensign Sobrel to prepare regimens of sedatives and stimulants for crew rotations to enable the crew to get any rest under the constant barrage of psychological torments, earning the pharmacology specialist the nickname of ‘Unsobrel’. As a counterpoint, the Cultural team had taken on extra duties, with the Tellarite psychiatrist, Doctor Ragga Benel leading the Risian recreation lead, Emi Beel, and the Mizarian pastor, Ren Sogra, in a shift rotation of crew analysis and disengagement exercises to try and keep morale up and anxiety down. Chetta Hun, the Haliian responsible for their department, was running herself ragged using her natural empathy to identify people in critical distress to dispatch support and defuse situations of escalating turmoil. If it weren’t for the life-and-death circumstances which had led them to this point, Durok would be grinning like a Cheshire cat at how well the specialist teams on his crew were accenting one another’s skills to produce such professional synergy.

By contrast, it was interesting to see the ways the members of his crew he had not hand picked were managing in the crisis. The Foothold crew, who had joined them for one reason or another beyond the wormhole, were a peculiar bunch who, by and large, had little cause to mingle with a federation crew. Errn in particular was a misfit for the situation they were in, as the Breen was uncomfortably close to the scapegoat that could be produced for an irrational projection: their pursuers were, after all, still not Breen, but the resemblance was uncanny. The Dominion consultant was invaluable as a font of information, but the unconventional communication and isolationist demeanor made them hard to engage, and the armoured alien spent most of their time in quarters, so as to not antagonize the crew. The only crewmember they seemed willing to entertain routinely was the Daystrom consultant who had been the one to recommend the Breen to Durok. A Vulcan, Veden Oran was comfortable with just about anyone aboard, but only found the reciprocal from the more aloof and logical demographic during a highly emotional crisis. She had been working collaboratively with a number of teams off and on to try and track her expertise with artificial intelligence and engineered logic to codebreaking the pack’s motives and internal language.

For her part, the Suliban observer who the Foothold council had placed with the ship spent most of her time on the bridge, observing, and trying to find ways to not seem out of place. There was little call for her skillsets—infiltration and espionage were hard to implement when under siege and on the run—and her tactical contributions were outmatched by the MacDougal Gambit, leaving her aimless and sullen. She spent her time lingering in Durok’s proximity, capitalizing on his downtime to pace and rant her anxieties at him during a debriefing he allowed her now and then when he stepped off the bridge, or skulking through the ship practicing her skullduggery for self-fulfillment, since there was little of value to snoop into aboard the Vellouwyn itself at the moment. Few paid her much attention, even if they noticed her, which only added to her ire.

Ranoch, on the other hand, was a good fit during the crisis. He had attached himself unofficially to the Cultural team’s efforts, and it was surprising how often the CCO found him talking with, working with, or ‘fighting’ with one of the crew who was approaching a crisis point before she arrived. Usually, the Cardassian’s odd approach was the right fit to distract or de-escalate someone at the right time, and he usually came out of it without having made any enemies, speaking well of his knowledge of people. When he wasn’t squashing unrest in his own way, he spent a lot of time with the rest of the forensics crew, solidifying his relationships and preparing profiles for their collaborative manhunt, and analyzing the data they’d collected before coming to this part of space to look for leads. They would often find themselves playing card games in one of the mess halls together, eavesdropping on other conversations while they talked through their various topics among themselves.

Everyone on the crew had been deputized for one or more jobs, some on their normal roster, and others trained on demand. The Vellouwyn was a small ship with a close-knit compliment, but under the circumstances, the number of them who had been trained or retrained in systems maintenance tasks was managed well by ensuring that the cross-training had been routine before the incident: there simply weren’t enough crew aboard to columnize crew assignments in a way which meant that departments could be isolated from one another, so roles like security and maintenance were communalized. First aid had also taken an uptick recently, although rather under more duress, and the opportunities for learning cross-species nuances when treating bleeding, trauma, or other injuries were the subject off-duty discussion, to the point where it had become something of a trivia challenge among the crew to come up with relevant, respectful examples of alien first aid references. That the crew were composed most significantly of Humans, Vulcans, Tellarites and Andorians was offset by the above-average numbers of less common species to serve on a Terran design Star Fleet vessel, though many common traits abounded among the others, and the specialists in both the Medical and Science corps encouraged the exchanges with great interest.

Now, though, everyone aboard was at the edge of their seats, waiting on the trick to come. Approaching a solar system, not for the first time in their efforts to escape the pack, the Vellouwyn had seen far better days. Her hull was blistered in places where the living skin colonies had been killed, either in early attacks where they had yet to close off the colonies, or in subsequent ones where some direct hit had taken our shielding over these colonies, causing the ship to ooze biomatter as it limped along. In others, ablative shielding had been dented, cracked, peeled, or ejected to keep damaged systems from dragging them back. One such ejection had been coupled with another Wu maneuver, and the dorsal tractor array had been burnt out throwing a shard of reinforced metal into an unprepared pursuer, crippling them. Her nacelles were trailing thin streams of contaminated plasma, although this effect was more intentional than consequential, and she struggled to keep the lights on across all decks.

Each time they’d entered a system in a bid to escape pursuit, they’d found the various hiding spots and blind shadows studded with sleeping sensor drones and satellites which broadcast short range alerts to their presence, and the pursuit began anew. They had tried gravity slings, solar corona surfing, atmospheric hide and seek maneuvers, all to no effect: once they’d tried to outfly the pack through the rubble field of a planet’s rings, only to be reminded how outclassed they were on the agility factor. Once, they had almost opted to hide in the deep crater of a fractured moon, only to abandon the premise when Durok’s gut told him they would be worse off cornered and captured; well enough, too, because as they flew away from the shattered satellite, two fresh pursuers had joined the hunt from its ruined heart.

The Gambit would be their last chance, and it would need to be perfectly executed if it had any hope of working; all of their buildup, their ploys, their false impression of vulnerability, would need to be brought to the fore at once in a precisely synchronized display which, should it fail, would end the expedition of the Vellouwyn most ingloriously. Their salvation rose before them on the viewscreen, not ahead, but their sensors had brought it into focus as they approached indirectly: an opal hued gas giant, replete with Helium 3, a number of common elements, and some reactive exotic elements which the Science team— almost all of them collaboratively in fact—had selected for the likelihood of the world ever sustaining life in any of its known capacities to be as close to zero as they could hope to calculate, as a member of a system with similar prospects. What it did have, according to their team, was the right chemical composition to create a particular reaction, if they wanted to treat their pursuers to a fireworks display.

Durok issued the command ship-wide to brace for engagement, and ordered the Caitan Ensign, Bhutan Rhee, to set the determined course and drop into the system as close as possible to their feeding point before coming out of warp. Rhee, being an Anomalous Navigation specialist, may have lacked the precision of the Chief Conn Officer, or the strategic chops of their Tactical Nav specialist Yao Si Gur, but she would be instrumental in the success of the Gambit, so she held the controls. Signaling to the forward torpedo controls, Durok instructed Thy’ren Shurel, his Andorian Chief Tactical officer, to have Junior Lieutenant Horak, the Aenar Guided Systems specialist, prepare their special weapon for deployment.

The moment was upon them. As soon as they came out of warp, not only would their immediate pursuers drop into normal space alongside them, but the hunting party several light years off would catch up almost instantaneously. Since they planned to give no indication that they were not heading for the system’s densely shrouded star, which was wrapped almost to obscurity in a debris field from a number of system-forming planetary collisions which had produced a chaotic multitude of accretion discs that might offer some concealment, there was the odd chance that it would take them time to re-orient and catch up to pursue at impulse. Timing would be critical.

Durok hung on the moment, closing his eyes in a moment of aimless prayer, before he opened them, filled with fierce determination. “Ensign Rhee. Begin the Gambit.”

The Caitan’s fingers tapped out a set of commands, and the ship lurched violently as it threw itself out of warp, then jettisoned reactive ballast from the nacelles to ignite a torturously overclocked turn at full impulse. The maneuver flared brilliantly in space behind them, leaving a shower of glittering reactive particles as they careened wildly into a drifting tangent that settled them almost exactly on their projected flightpath, which appeared as an overlay on screen. The move blew out power relays all across the ship, and the bones of the vessel shuddered under the torturous forces, but she was small and tightly built, and held together honourably under the stress. Durok grinned, certain that Quartermaster M'Tembe would have words with him when they got back to Deep Space 5.

It was a full fifteen seconds before their two pursuit ships dropped into normal space behind them, and another thirty for the pursuing fleet. For the first time they got a clear look at the ships which comprised it, fully a dozen different designs from great to small, swarming around what looked to be a mobile carrier station at the heart of the storm. What sensors they had would be gulping data on their pursuers while they could be spared, and it would certainly keep someone’s project alive for years piecing through the data. For now, other than a moment spent appreciating the uniqueness of their pursuers, Durok did not have time to admire them.

Ensign Rhee was steadily making course adjustments, leading the Vellouwyn’s taxed systems into a clean vector on their flight trajectory, while maintaining a flexible margin for evasion. They would have some time before the pack behind them would be able to fire on them, but they would, inevitably, be overtaken before they could complete the work. Their path led them directly into the gas giant’s atmosphere, at the layer where the density of the cloud cover began to produce dangerous shear forces for a ship in the Vellouwyn’s shape. Around him, the ship worked as though automated, with crew having drilled for days on the plan easily executing pre-determined plans, checks, and preparations without his need to issue orders. His work had been done, and it was up to him to trust his crew, and wait, hoping the need to command any changes to the plan would not arise.

As they delved into the planet’s atmosphere, the Engineers opened up the Bussard Collectors on the nacelles, as well as the anomalous material collector on the ventral bay beneath the deflector dish. Any gap in the ship’s hull which could gather material from the atmosphere was opened, and their deflector configuration was altered to produce as much wake-sculpting as possible. The result was a marked slowdown from full impulse to nearly three quarters, and a brilliant display as the gaseous clouds around them parted fluidly, as if the ship were parting a sea of charged particles, and in all directions crackling storms of lightning and luminous waves of ionized radiation cascaded beautifully over the surface of the world. It washed over them, around them, and through them in many places on the ship, and though their hounds managed to catch up almost immediately as they were slowed by the splashdown, the wave of charged matter around them concealed and protected them from the weapons they brought to bear. Until they were stopped, and until gravity and momentum levelled out their gouge through the atmosphere, they would have marginal protection from attack, but more importantly, from sensors.

Over the secure internal coms channel, the Science stations began reporting in in sequence; “Ensign Omar, Exotic Matter, Check, begin MacDougal’s Gambit.”; “Crewman Tusok, Geo-Science, Check! Begin MacDougal’s Gambit!”; “Ensign Denning, Radiation, Check, begin MacDougal’s Gambit.”; “Ensign Dend, Fundamental Forces, Check, begin MacDougal’s Gambit!”; not in sequence, but spilling in all at once, various stations monitoring special sensor equipment, tailoring shield harmonics and collaborating on power frequencies, until a lightboard in front of the Chief Engineer and the Warp Systems specialist lit up green, and after a collaborative exchange, nodded to Captain Durok.

“Durok to forward torpedo room; launch the device. Begin MacDougal’s Gambit.”

A moment later, there was a resonant sound which coursed through the ship as a photonic projectile was launched from the forward tubes. It glittered with a beautiful golden white light, shot through with pink, purple, and blue hues which contrasted the warm yellow eerily. The device twinkled forward into their shield bubble, which had been extended and distorted, elongated to match a novel configuration which MacDougal had proposed before her unkind demise, and which could only be sustained under the kinds of pressure present in this stratum of a gas giant. Shield frequencies and speed had been tailored just so, resistances produced at exact standards, such that this device, if used in absolute desperation, may just save them from their circumstance.

It was a wormhole generator, after all, but rather than being an aperture between two points in space, it would serve as a warp bubble compressor, launching the Vellouwyn beyond its normal warp threshold at the expense of the device itself. Essentially producing a particle stream through subspace, the compression wave of their own conserved warp potential would shoot them through the eye of this artificial lens, collapsing the event horizon behind them into an antimatter explosion. This would consume the device and set off a reaction in the planet’s atmosphere which should, in theory, both cover their escape and convince the pursuing pack of their absolute obliteration.

That was, in theory. None of this had ever been tested, no experiments similar had ever been conducted: this was a gamble, and it was named for Rowan MacDougal, who had concocted it in a hallmark display of the Human propensity to defy the laws of reality to suit their ends.

The device flared a brilliant blue as it reached its initiation point: it was made out of an experimental warp core which they’d spent the past week assembling from the research components tied into the ancillary warp theory laboratory in the bowels of engineering. It would not produce the kind of thrust required to fly a ship, but it was not made for that: it did produce a highly chaotic warp field, which whipped atmospheric particles around it in a dazzling, terrifying vortex that gaped open before them in waiting. Durok gripped the arms of his chair, hesitating to issue the order, and finding it ultimately out of his hands as the plan played out, and Ensign Rhee committed to the course she’d set when she agreed to this madness in the first place. Her voice was firm, but tense, as she called out: “Initializing synchronized warp field. Jump in three, two, one…”

And in a flash, an instant, a moment of glorious triumph, everything went cataclysmically wrong.

And now...

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wowtalesofadventurers · 3 months

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Tese'kot Stoutfight bio

Tese'kot Stoutfight is a female orc shaman from the Frostwolves clan. She and her father Durok left their home in the Alterac Valley to rejoin the Horde in Kalimdor after the Third War due to her father seeing the undead as a bad omen.

#world of warcraft oc #wow oc

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coolvintagetoys · 10 months

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The Mighty Thor #193 (Marvel Comic 1971) Low Grade

We have a great copy of Thor #193 with an awesome quote by Silver Surfer " Silver Surfer bows to no female..... to no Queen" HAHAHAHAHAHA --- sure Silver Surfer. In Reality, that just isn't true. Most men bow to at least one queen in their life. That is the reason there are phrases like "if mama ain't happy, nobody is happy". There is ALWAYS a QUEEN. Anyway back to the story. Silver Surfer is convinced to help Thor fight Durok. Thor at some point loses his hammer and is transformed into human form. It features some great work by the Buscemas with John as the penciler and Sal as the inker. Gerry Conway wrote the story and it is a great story with lots of twists and turns -- you will LOVE IT.

The Mighty Thor #193 (Marvel Comic 1971) CHECK OUT ALL OF OUR GREAT ITEMS AVAILABLE NOW ON EBAY Read the full article

#Thor193

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writingalterras · 1 year

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Alterra Update!

I’m feeling kind of out of it today, so here’s just some random city data copy-pasted from one of my many world building lists. Most of them don’t have any information about them, but I’ll go more in depth in a future update.

The 5 cities of unity;

-Dawncrest (Novélia)

-Aguefort (Corkus)

-Cinfras (Kio)

-Helioa (Rings of Troms)

-Hylinn (Runa)

Other cities;

-Hytolra (Elven):

-Vreedon City (Human): Capital to the province of Vreedon

-Vreeport (mixed): Home to the second largest legal port in Alterra.

-Thetville (Human):

-Niseton (mixed): Small village near Thetville

-Outerton (Human): A self governing large town, and third largest bounty hunting town after the fall of Blackwood.

-Blackwood (destroyed, former bounty hunting capital)

-Olmic (Dwarven): World’s largest producer of steel, steel alloys, and silver.

-The Multitree (High-Elven): Home to the High Elves, all visits must be scheduled and approved beforehand.

-Tal Aln’ir (Elven)

-Nae’lar (Elven)

-Helmsgate (Dwarven): Dwarven Capital of Corkus, and the blacksmith capital of Alterra.

-Rymek (mixed, Dwarven / Golemic): A dwarven made city where Golems can live safely outside of Unity Cities. Also the highest educated non-capital city in Alterra.

-Arca’nir (Elven)

-Argoth (mixed, Dwarven / Orken / Human): Main port of Corkus.

-Y’ fae (Elven)

-Angia (Elven)

-Koerra (Elven)

-Nae’orr (Elven)

-Bankwood (Human): Second largest bounty hunting city in Alterra.

-Nae’a (Elven)

-Tal Helia (Elven)

-Val T’orin (Elven)

-Arca’fae (Elven)

-Ori (Elven)

-Kangdor (Human):

-Ru’ina (Elven)

-Arca’nir (Elven)

-Tal’lynn (Elven)

-Arca’lynn (Elven)

-Arca’rö (Elven)

-Helguard (Dwarven): A military city built beside the largest HellHole on Alterra. Soldiers trained here are some of the best in the world, and often travel abroad hunting monsters and preventing demons from coming to the surface.

-Bankside (mixed)

-Sowick (Human)

-Setwick (Golemic)

-Tort (mixed): Capital of The Rings of Troms, and home to the largest port in the world. It’s so large, it connects to the port of the Unity City Hilioa. The lush jungle provides Tort with vast amounts of exotic fruit and spices, and is responsible for exporting over 90% of the world’s spices. The vast amount of life also makes it a very attractive destination for those learning magic.

-Anri (Arcanic): A magic city located in the only desert left on the planet, besides the Warlock Wastes. The desert’s strange magical properties and relation to Dragon’s Peak make this the best place in the world to study the arcane. Any rumors saying that Anri is working together with The Lord’s Wastelands are unconfirmed.

-Death’s Gate (mixed, Human / Orken): New bounty hunting capital of Alterra, and closest town to the Lord’s Wastelands.

-Tell (pirate town)

Continents;

-Novélia

-Corkus

-Troms

-Nesaak

-Kio

-Runa:

-Frowynn

-Hylinn Isles

-N.O.V.A. Territory

Mountains;

-Split peaks

-Dragon’s Peak

-Vualt mountain

-Durok mountain

-Mount Feln

-Mount Buro

-Twin Peaks

-Mount Brimstone

-Spikecaps

Dwarven mines;

-Mt. Vualt mines

-Mt. Durok mines

-Mt. Feln mines

-Mt. Buro mines

-Mt. Brimstone mines

Points of Interest;

-The Lord’s Wastelands:

-Warlock Wastes

-The Droughted

-The HellHoles

#writing #fantasy #novel #worldbuilding #alterra #novel writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing wip #writeblr #world #writerscommunity #update #world map

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zetamixsb · 1 year

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First floor slab concreting @ Durok For concrete enquiries, please call 087-330211. #zetamixkeningau (at Keningau) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqCACufPgxe/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#zetamixkeningau

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marvelousmrm · 2 years

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Thor #193 (Conway/Buscema & Buscema, Nov 1971). The Silver Surfer tags in for a thrilling battle with Durok the Demolisher. The big guy literally snaps the board in half! But the Surfer’s Power Cosmic restores it before the end of the page.

#marvel #marvel 616 #thor #norrin radd #silver surfer #sif #loki #balder #karnilla #volstagg #hogun #fandral #durok the demolisher #gerry conway #john buscema #sal buscema

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jovishark · 4 years

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anyway, an alien boy im working on unrelated to the other ocs but who knows

his name is Durok and he uses all four arms to punch

#joviart #original characters #ocs #oc: durok

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tinysublimetraveler · 3 years

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Oguzhan Karbi AFFAIRS FACTS ABOUT, Age, Girlfriends, Networth, Height, weight, Bio&more MONEY FACTOR PERSONAL LIFE]

#Oguzhan Karbi bio #durok bio #networth #relegion

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simcourts · 4 years

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Monarchy of Seliva

House of Younan

Current Monarch: Sultan Akhun

Heir Apparent: Shehzade Ayberk

Sim World: Oasis Springs

Country of Inspiration: Turkey/Ottoman

Government: Palimentary Constitutional Monarchy

Succession: Agnatic Primogeniture

Capital: Durokent

Sultan Akhun Younan, Esma Kadin (Chief Consort; [Left]) and Selda Hanim (Second Consort; [Right])

(Princess) Sabiha Sultan

(Crown Prince) Shehzade Ayberk Younan

(Princess) Tenzile Sultan

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mindwavestudios · 5 years

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Happy "70th" to Mom today! We played the Ukrainian card game Durok with Susie, Erica and Dad. Thank you @mckayla_lynns of @relentlesscrafting for your beautiful painting. Mom loves it! 😃 And beautiful flowers from The Jungle in St.Paul. . . . . . #birthday #durok #painting #flowers #bestmom https://www.instagram.com/jonathanholeton/p/BwqTil0gwfH/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=p7n7dbsw3pca

#birthday #durok #painting #flowers #bestmom

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spineofdeathwing · 4 years

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Ronan/Aurlaine/Caulen/Plath | Narcissist, Manipulator, Abuser

Ronan, also known as Aurlaine, Caulen, or Plath, is a very harmful narcissistic individual on both WrA and MG. He will specifically target gay men or people who RP gay men and isolate them from their friends, eventually turning them into a source for constant ERP. He will use emotional and mental manipulation to make you feel as though any perceived slight is an attack on him and punish you for it. He RPs topics such as r*pe and manipulates you into feeling as though this is a perfectly normal thing, and if you ever speak out against his toxic behavior, he will throw it back at you and make you feel as though you're being the toxic one.

http://imgur.com/gallery/D36XTiU

Proof of his behavior.

His WrA Alliance Characters are:

Aurlaine, Caulen, Daines, Outrage, Bruvo

WrA Horde:

Durok

MG Alliance:

Aurlaine, Forestgreene

Please please please don't let this asshole draw you in. He claims to be your friend and slowly chains you up until you're entirely reliant on him. He's a very toxic and dangerous person.

#scumbag #world of warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord #Moon Guard #Abuse #Harassment #Rape TW #Image #submission

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etymologyofmind · 10 months

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The Hounds of Hell

The bridge of the Vellouwyn lurched as an energy discharge off the port side collapsed a pocket of subspace into a temporary antimatter void. The implosion wasn’t close enough to significantly damage the ship, but shields and ablative plating had taken a beating during their encounters over the past week, and the ship’s energy systems were having a hard time reconciling inertial dampeners to compensate as well as they could at full capacity. Durok sneered, knowing that the attack had been intentionally off the mark, and that while they were being hounded by their pursuers, they were also being toyed with, effectively helpless to counter the assault.

All throughout the ship at floor level, vents periodically gawped open as sensors tripped their mechanisms, and stray equipment and debris from structural damage was captured by the stow-ways, dragged out of the way by R4T units hiding in their conduits to police potentially harmful stray detritus. Around him on the bridge, various crew members had donned their station restraints, giving some stability and a moderate impression of safety as the ship jostled them around, and the captain worried for them all the same; others, unable to constrain themselves to a single operational area, were unbelted and reliant on their ‘sea legs’ to keep them from careening into consoles or other equipment as they went about their work.

“Bonn! Give me a damage report update. Lieutenant Simyarn, I could really use an effective evasive pattern if you’ve come up with anything fancy, something special, perhaps away from the anti-matter weapons?” Nearby at an unmanned science station, a lighting module overloaded, showering the area in distracting, but harmless sparks. Not for the first time, Durok lamented that the Federation’s lighting modules all reacted that way to fluctuations in power systems, at an exchange for effectively cost-free lumens, as the devices were efficient enough to be powered and controlled passively without requiring connection to energy systems of any sort, cultivating their charge from ambient energy sources. Unfortunately, those sources tended to be nearby ships systems which were connected to the grid, and tactical shifts in distribution and quick cycles of energy across different conduits and grids tended to trigger sensitive receptors in the equipment to overload. Three crewmen flinched or ducked at the sudden, distracting crackle of the bursting light, and Durok wondered if it were worth the exchange.

Lieutenant Raoul Simyarn’s hands flew across the Conn panel in a feverish dance, his eyes darting around the console to gather as much information as he could while he worked. The viewscreen, which he was ignoring, showed a pair of flanking vessels, much smaller than the Vellouwyn but significantly more maneuverable and dangerously over-armed, and as Durok watched, the closer of the pair launched another emerald-hued antimatter torpedo into their trajectory. Simyarn’s palm skidded along an edge of his console, and the whole ship veered alarmingly as lagging systems tried to catch up with the barrel roll that he set her spinning into. The torpedo cruised past the ship’s underbelly, and a subscreen on the viewer popped up to track it on one of the ventral sensor arrays. The missile came dangerously close to triggering in proximity, and Durok knew that if they wanted to, their pursuers could have remote detonated the device and crippled the ship. Instead, it twinkled off into the dark of space ahead of them for a distance before detonating into another hueless antimatter void which spun reactive forces into their wake, trigging more light units to overload and sending a menacing shudder throughout the vessel.

Junior Lieutenant Hubert Bonn grabbed the back of the captain’s chair as he lurched across the deck, thrusting a Padd with the most recent systems updates into Durok’s hands. The Tellarite looked queasy and unimpressed by their circumstances, and glared at the ships on the viewscreen. “Shields are holding at 74 percent, for now, up from the mid forties last time they pinned us down, but not quite the nineties I had them to this morning. This back and forth is overloading our emitters, and the crystal projectors won’t take the strain of it without maintenance much longer: we’ll start losing peak performance and it will slide from there. Ablative shielding is good in some places, seized in others, and gone at key points. We won’t be able to recover those without spacedock, so either way we need to report in after this. Phasers are good, but targeting is off: something they’ve got keeps us from getting a solid lock, so they are better used as sweeps, and it’s not particularly helpful if we’re not committed to the act and VERY lucky. Our rail guns are still offline because their disruptors overwhelmed their magnetic control systems, and our photon torpedoes and manual warheads will still work, if we can hit someone with them. We might be better off dropping them as dark mines, but that’s a last resort, as you know, since it’s bloody illegal.”

Durok growled. The enemy had been dogged in their pursuit of the Vellouwyn for days now, appearing and disappearing at seemingly random whims, pushing the ship off course at every encounter and herding her toward unknown goals. At their second encounter they’d decided to fight back, and while the ship’s weapons had proven capable of disabling, or at least severely deterring their pursuit, the next encounter had had more ships to worry at their heels, and the attacks began to come with more frequency. Repair crews had been unable to make meaningful work of addressing the ship’s systems, as their disruptors carried feedback signals which wreaked havoc with ships systems even as the shields dispersed them, making it dangerous to work on live grids while they were under attack. Worse still, several ship’s systems were under quarantine, as the same effect had a contagious impact on the Vellouwyn’s bio-porous network, and they had been forced to slough off several clonal nodes of insulation generation membranes, and sequester others deeper within the hull where they were less likely to suffer colony destabilization.

Bonn continued to list systems of note, cycling through the tactical, into the life support and operational management systems, stopping for a colourful epithet about the inertial dampeners as Simyarn veered to avoid another attack, and then down into the power and propulsion sets. Thorough and comprehensive while being very concise, Durok was quickly up to speed with the ship’s status, and appreciated his officer’s effectiveness in crisis. The outlook was poor, but the situation wasn’t yet over with. At the end of the report, Durok thumbed the Padd in confirmation and sent Bonn back to his stations. Jamming a black-nailed thumb on the communications panel he had queued up on his armrest, Durok barked out to one side: “Petty Officer Roundhouse, have you got a course for us? We may only have one shot at this idea of yours, we need to make it count.”

Several decks away in a lab behind the deflector and sensor arrays on the belly of the Vellouwyn, a Tiburonian crewman was busily manipulating a holographic model of their current sector of space by hand. Her brow was knit in concentration, making the severe swoop of her eyebrows into her hairline more profound. In real time, tactical data feeds to her station plotted the position of two of their pursuers, the last known trajectories of the other ships which had dogged them recently where they did not match the ship signatures of those who were currently engaged, and a number of other astronomically interesting objects in the region as reference points. A Barzan ensign, Tendan Omar, worked nearby, helping to keep the link between her simulation and the various feeder systems running at peak efficiency, while a striking Kiley, Pratt Denning, was working out formulas for a chain reaction. As Durok’s voice coughed out over a hidden speaker, she frowned and kept working. “Nearly, captain. It will work. It has to. Just be ready to vent our charged warp plasma as we skim the gas giant.”

Back on the bridge, Durok nodded, knowing the motion would not translate through the coms, and tapped the signal closed with a confirmation chime. Leveraging himself out of his chair, leaving the restraint to snake back into its concealment, he strode toward the forward operations console, bracing himself on the back of his flight controller’s seat, careful not to jostle Simyarn as he focused on flying. Tapping Junior Lieutenant Sim Wu on the shoulder encouragingly, he leaned in to review the outputs of the particle systems specialist’s weapon console, nodding at the tracing algorithms he had running on the sensor readouts. The man was smart when it came to event driven programming and had produced a spectral review of their previous engagements that was currently tracking a small spike chain in energy signatures before one of the alien ships fired an antimatter weapon. “If you see your shot, take it Mister Wu.”

The Human man nodded, and Durok looked up at the viewscreen. “Sato, Jendunn, get these bastards back up on my viewscreen. I need to see if I can’t buy us some time.” Behind him at the communications station on the upper bridge, an Aenar woman’s antennae swerved slightly, while the Trillish Human beside her cast a disapproving look of acknowledgement at the back of his head, over his partner Ensign’s shoulder. The two of them had been working at parsing the sparse communication they’d received from the enemy in the past week, or intercepted in subspace traffic, and were still trying to work out if the language was based more on a computational sequence or some biological derivative. Neither of them had made as much progress as they’d have liked, but the material was sparse, and contact more aggressive than communicative. The Sato Ear for Language was legendary in Star Fleet, literally, but the attackers barely used anything that might resemble it.

A long set of moments after his order, the viewscreen changed again; the ships previously on display collapsed into a corner, where the ventral sensor overlay had appeared for the passing torpedo, and the rest was filled with an aggressive, stark, metallic figure. Repeated analysis had told them these were not Breen; study of their language told them that, despite its sound, it was not Breen language, study of their ships and tactics, while aggressive like their Alpha Quadrant comparison, suggested they were not, in fact, Breen. The thing on screen, however, looked Breen, and had the same strange droning buzz when it vocalized, setting Durok’s hair on end. It looked Breen, with the visor hued in green, although the colour and configuration of the armour was slightly different, it was very close to Breen. Durok ran his tongue over his teeth and considered his play.

“We are of Star Fleet, from the United Federation of Planets. Likely you do not know of us yet,” he began, skipping all the pleasantries. “We tried speaking with you before, as it is the way of our coalition to entreat peacefully with new met civilizations. When that failed, we defended ourselves, and rather than engage with us, you escalated.” Still receiving no response from the unemotive entity on screen, he went on. “You have plagued us for a week, and we tire of patience. You may think you have us figured out, and that you can run us down for the kill, but I assure you that is not the case. I will give you one more warning: our ship is on a mission of peace, but our kind value our lives more than we value yours. Tell us what you want and we will consider your request. Otherwise, be on your way, or face the consequences.”

For a long moment there was nothing, and then there was a blast of garbled audio signal which made several of his crew wince before the audio filters kicked in, and dimmed the noise. Behind him, Sato’s eyes went wide, and he started tapping a new set of instructions into the computer, and the chaotic static sound played again, twice more in the background on the bridge. Durok turned around to face the communications station, and Jendunn passed her hands blindly, accurately over controls to help Sato with his effort, the two muttering back and forth for a moment, before suddenly the signal was split into a half dozen audible threads overlaying the background garble of data. A deeply artificial, almost metallic synthesized voice translated several languages simultaneously into one common message: “Run. Hide. Flee. Prey.”

Durok turned around, snarling defiantly, as the figure on screen began to convulse with a new message, which the captain did not need to have translated to know for laughter. Its face disappeared from the screen, and Wu sat up at attention as the two pursuing ships returned to take up the larger viewscreen. A moment later and with a flurry of commands, a fan of lower energy phaser spread burst from the aft canons in a colourful array, and a fraction of a moment later a green hued torpedo belched from a seamless port on the lead ship’s forward hull. As it crossed the thin phaser threshold, breaking a number of the feeble streams, Wu swiped his hands across the controls and the computer recalculated the trajectory based on emitter feedback. Suddenly the streams all converged on the antimatter weapon, linking together into a bright red point which breached the device’s hull and detonated it practically within the launch tube of the pursuing ship.

The result was instantaneously catastrophic for the alien vessel, and the implosion encompassed the entire vessel in a cascade reaction, sucking the normal matter in and annihilating it to produce a pulsar-esque compressed particle stream, ripping the vessel through an event horizon and rendering it into oblivion, before the reactive shockwave blew its remaining mass into a devastating cloud of shrapnel. The second vessel was flying close enough to get caught up in the explosion, and while it was not outright destroyed, it was disabled enough to knock it out of warp, leaving it behind on long distance sensors. A number of bridge crew cheered, save Wu, who was busily harvesting additional tactical data from the successful ploy, but most knew it was, if anything, a temporary reprieve.

“Excellent technique, Mister Wu.” Durok said, patting him on the shoulder again before returning to his chair. “Raoul, get us back on the course from Astrometrics. They’ll send more dogs to hound us before we make good on any escape, so the plan still stands. We have to reach that nebula, and the system on its edge is the perfect place to try their plan. Bonn, update the repair crews on their priorities, and take only who you need: they won’t get to finish the work in all likelihood, and the crew need rest. Take volunteers after you pick the essentials, but don’t ‘motivate’ them. Work with Chief Engineer Vantel, and check in with Shurel to see if the weapon is ready.”

The Tellarite nodded and set to his work, while Chief Conn Officer Simyarn set about coordinating course updates with the astrometrics lab. Durok decided to leave the language team to pore over their new epiphanies: he’d be briefed on their findings when they were ready, and instead stood to move to the aft turbolift corridor. “Durok to Ve Sudan;” he said, waiting for the computer to acknowledge his hail. “If you’re able, come take command of the bridge. Else send Adonnas. I’m going to check on Paine.” He commanded, knowing that the second and third shift bridge officers would be relatively fresh compared to the fourth rotation, which had retired barely two hours before, mid-battle. Some of their shift’s rotations were still on station, and he knew that, were Paine Thomas at her post, they’d have been mandatorily rotated by now, but Sudan could handle that just as well: the Betazoid Lieutenant Commander had a keen sense for fatigue among the crew, and knew when they were reaching, rather than riding, their limits. He got a simple ‘Affirmative’ from her, and stepped off the bridge with a last look at the ant hill of its crew compliment, smiling with concern before turning left to his preferred turbolift station, which had been prioritized for command needs in a crisis.

“Sick bay ICU,” he instructed as he stepped into the dimly lit can, feeling the throb of fatigue budding behind his eyes as he braced for what he always considered to be an awkward period of contemplation as the lift shuttled through maglev tunnels between bulkheads. He dreaded what he’d find when he arrived at his destination: Paine was his first officer, and in the year that they’d served together thus far, he’d come to respect and rely on her. She was as true and stalwart a warrior as he had ever encountered, at any time, anywhere, so to see her laid low by the disruptor infection which had impacted the crew stationed in the aft deuterium storage bays when the first attack had taken them unprepared was a demoralizing sensation. Many of the others had been treated and were recovering, as the Vellouwyn’s medical team was among the most brilliant he’d ever seen, but three of his crew were still unconscious and in various states of suffering, with Paine being by far the most overwhelmed.

Before he returned to his rotation, perhaps to get some rest, but more likely to revisit the plan with his strategic teams before they reached their next destination, he would spend some time at their sides, speaking quietly of what he knew of them, what was important to them, their motivation and inspirations. He did not know, and nor did Chief Medical Officer Barr, whether they could hear him or not, but he felt that if anything would motivate them to stave off death, it was the things of value found in their lives. It was the least he could do to remind them of their worth.

And now...

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 4 years

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no one else has reblogged ask meme Mondays so I'm just going fucking apeshit with u. from the big boy: b7 for raini bc it's funny, c1 for cog bc it's inchresting, h3 for brilliance bc I know there's some gay shit going on and I want to hear more, then a17 (character proud of themselves or ur proud of ur rp as them) L5 and L6 for whomsoever u want to talk about

I won’t need a readmore for this one, I tell myself. There’s not that many questions, and they’re not proseboys. I was a fool. She’s too long to be allowed to run on people’s dashboards unrestrained 😔 Thank you! For going apeshit!!

Raini

B7. How do they respond to babies crying in public? I guarantee the image you have for how Raini would react to a crying baby is 10000% correct. She’s unhappy. Uncomfortable. Unimpressed. Can you please make that thing be quiet. Why did you have it if you can’t mange it. This is why she’s never having kids. Like she’s not gonna say anything to the parents or shoot them dirty looks, because she’s not that specific flavor of asshole, but she’s going Mind Her Business and vacate the premises if possible. People who want to take care of something should just get a cat. Goddamn. There is ONE (1) baby that may qualify for an exception, and that’s Red. This is because (and please, picture Raini, the absolute picture of ‘fed up’, squatting down to look a fussy Red in the eye while she says this) “Baby Lent. You’re better than this. I know you are, and you’re letting me down. You need to stop making that noise.” This is unrelated to the question, but please also picture a Raini who was asked (blackmailed?) into babysitting using her Mage Hand to change Red’s diaper. It has nothing to do with the question but I think it’s a Very funny mental image. Thank you.

Cog

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it? Absolutely! The way Cog approaches the world is defined by three main mantras: - Kindness is a discipline, not a character trait. - Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it is always worth doing. - If you are able to help someone, you have an obligation to do so. Between these three things, Cog sees the world in pretty black and white terms. There are right decisions, and wrong ones. The difference between the two is usually clear to anyone who cares to look, and so most of the evil in the world is born of selfishness. Consequently, Cog does very poorly in morally grey situations. She will commit without hesitation to any course of action that she deems “right” and “kind” no matter how drastic or dangerous it is, but she pretty much shuts down the second she’s faced with a decision that has consequences for someone regardless of what she does. I’m sure that has not, and will not, come in her life ever at all. Ahah! I think originally, this worldview was born of naivety. She grew up that religious kind of super sheltered where everything in the secular world was dangerous and dirty, and so when Cog began to realize that definitely wasn’t the case she made the choice to intentionally see the best in people and the world around her to fight what she was told growing up. When she started traveling with her party and actually seeing more of the world than the extremes of a) shitty cult town b) shiny clean magic school, she began to realize that the true state of the Wasteland was somewhere between what her Mama had told her and what she wanted to believe it was. But I’ve never in my life made a character who is stubborn as hell deep down, so instead of letting the world she found herself in change her Cog took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeves, and settled in to be the one changing it by loving and helping the people around her.

Brilliance

H3. Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right? I think Brilliance absolutely adores the idea of two people being made for one another. Two souls, wandering the world looking for one another? Who slot together so perfectly that when they find each other it’s clear they never could have fit anywhere else? Bruh. Yes, she knows love takes work. Sometimes you and your partner are going to disagree, and sometimes there’s going to be conflict. The world isn’t “love at first sight” then smooth sailing for the rest of your life. But you put in the work to make your lives better, together, because the universe gave you this person to care for. Maybe there are many people who you could be happy with, and those relationships aren’t anything to look down on. But when you find The One, Brilliance thinks, you know. She certainly did.

Don’t Worry About It

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves? Gonna hijack this question to talk about rp moments I’m proud of because Alex sorta kinda gave me permission to do that! Alright! For Raini, the biggest rp moment I’m proud of was her “I’m getting our memories back” speech a few sessions ago, specifically the line, “We’ve been fighting with one hand tied behind our backs for too long. If we’re going to die fighting this thing, I want to know exactly what I’m fighting for.” Morgan and I had been planning to kick off our return from July Hell Hiatus with Wish Two for a couple of days, which meant I was lucky enough to be able to spend a little while planning what to say. I feel like that line in particular embodies Raini’s unwavering confidence in her magic, her determination, and her specific brand of caring for the people around her without actually admitting that’s what she’s doing. I also really liked the way the scene of her apologizing to the party for being Bitchy post losing Magic for a minute went! Idk if anyone else remembers it, because it was pretty short in game, but! I thought it was a very good moment of Raini finding the most Roundabout way to say “thank you for looking out for me while I was defenseless”. If I can pat myself on the back a little, my Cog monologues kick Ass. The most recent one was when she was talking to Ace about how War is Bad (radical, I know) and there was a moment where she looked at him and said, “...I’m not going to ask for your help, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I do and you say no.” Which. OOF. That was her and I realizing in real time that she and Ace were very much on different sides of this issue. When the session ended everyone said they Loved how good and hurtful that conversation was and I :’) Also, there was a really small moment when Cog was pleading for Maelo’s life (when Sunny’s dad had him locked in a cat carrier. It’s a Long story, made slightly better by the fact that Maelo was wildshaped into a cat at the time) and Cog went Straight for the dad heartstrings by sniffling and asking if, please, would Robert at least let her say goodbye to her friend before he killed him? Please? 😢 She is using her baby face for EVIL! And oh my god how could I forget! Arcane Timeout! When the party went back to New Alexandria and was confronted by Ace for helping a prisoner escape (which, in fairness, Maelo did do) and Cog brought the encounter screeching to a halt by casting Wall of Stone to make a timeout hut with herself and Ace inside. She then sat herself down, looked Ace dead in the eye, and told him that the wall wasn’t coming down until he actually talked to her, or until he broke her concentration on the spell. She banked hard on him not being willing to hurt her, and it paid off. There were tears all around, both in and out of character. It was Wonderful. Also! I do just want recognition for the fact that I did not give into my impulses to be a little Shit as Cog last session by subtle casting Heal in Ace’s face after he Counterspelled my Healing Word. it was what I Rebekah wanted to do more than anything; unfortunately Cog is a better person than I am. There is No worse feeling than wanting so badly to do something you have no choice but to admit isn’t in character. Rip. For whatever reason, all of my favorite Brilliance rp moments came during combat. Pressing her forehead to Sabre’s after he died in silent grief, forcefully taking a Narzugon off his Nightmare and then using Misty Step to mount it herself and take off after her friend, planting herself in the chokepoint of a hallway to stare down three minotaurs so she could keep her party safe behind her, pushing deeper into the hellwasp nest to rescue Dembe and Sabre despite knowing that doing so all but destroyed her chance of making it out alive, the list goes on. There were good out of combat moments too (despite the rest of the party’s best efforts 🙄), but I feel like for once I made a character who really shone in combat. oh GOD I just remembered one really really good rp moment, when our rogue Zihro died when he got separated from the party during combat. We finished taking care of the main devil we were fighting, then began searching the dungeon for Zihro and the npc he was with. We, instead, found both of their corpses. Dembe looked to Brilliance, our healer, and demanded to know why she was just standing there instead of fixing their friend. We were only level three or four at the time, so Brilliance had to tell Dembe, again and again, that she couldn’t fix Zihro. It was too late, she wasn’t powerful enough yet, her goddess wouldn’t answer a prayer like that- It was a rough scene, and without question one of the best rp moments I’ve had with that group. Tae, if you’re reading this, you’re the only one with rights. Also, please unfollow this blog immediately. Now as a quick pick-me-up after that mess, Pip’s best rp moment was when our barbarian Durokal -who couldn’t read and had a habit of running off and causing Problems- found a plaque he could tell had five words on it, and called Pip over to read it for him when Pip finished chasing him down. Pip, annoyed and out of breath and all of two feet tall, looked up at this 7 foot half-orc and told him, “It says: I’m. Gonna. Kick. Your. Ass.” Also, he regularly called very powerful figures in Barovia by sweet nicknames with “Mr.” in the front. As a sign of Respect. Because he’s the Best. sdfhsdkfj he also he couldn’t think of a fake name quick enough one time so he told an npc that is name was Dick and he was Very embarrassed about it. She: bought it!

Brilliance, Again

L5. Which OC do you think is the most decent morally or behaviorally? AKA, which is supposed to a “good guy”? The answer is Cog, but we already went in depth on her morals this ask. She’s HAD enough screen time let’s move on. Brilliance is the only other character who, if asked, would say they saw themselves as a good guy instead of just “a person”. She strives to do right by the people around her, and to protect the light and beauty found in the world. She doesn’t have the same illusions about the world wanting to be a good place that Cog does, and she very much understands that sometimes the best thing you can do for the world is to put the things that make it dangerous six feet under. What’s interesting I think is that, despite being a paladin, she isn’t Lawful Good! She’s Neutral Good, because you know what? She wants to do the right thing, and laws aren’t always right. It’s up to you, as a person with a mind and free will and agency, to look at a situation and decide what you think is the right thing to do. And, for Brilliance, generally the right thing to do is heft her sword, raise her shield, and face trouble head on.

Raini, Once More

L6. Which OC do you think is the worst morally or behaviorally? AKA, which is supposed to be a “bad guy”? I don’t have any evil aligned characters, because I personally find things like “getting along with my party members” sexy, but the character who’s the shittiest and the worst is obviously Raini. She’s not a bad person per say, she’s just selfish and results oriented. Very much “the ends justify the means” and in a party like hers she’s aware that somebody has to be the bad guy sometimes, and she’s not afraid to make sure that’s her. She’s also very very likely to fall victim to her hubris making her feel like she definitely knows what’s best, and acting on that maybe without consulting other people (see: the whole fucking premise of the campaign). She sees a goal, she sees a way to accomplish that goal, so why shouldn’t she begin taking the necessary steps to reach it? I think the events of the game have mellowed this flaw out a little bit, but you can still see traces of it in the way she, for example, wordlessly handed Lent a bunch of diamonds before launching her consciousness into the Abeast and very nearly dying in there without consulting with the party first. It happens! Also, behaviorally, she’s just. I mean. She’s like that. The worst. And that, I promise, will never change.

#syn-odics #Rainivere #amnesia campaign #cog #wasteland campaign #brilliance #dia #word count: 2273 #new tag! just for my own personal edification #answered #mine

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