A little reading nook

RP blog for my characters from various games that I play. Always up for RP, just shoot me a message. Twitter: @DerpingGM

[derpinggm-blog]

Feed me suffering.

An uncomfortable silence settled in the Den, leaves rustled in the background, vines creaked and there were voices from guards far off in the distance. Below him the grass was soft, worn down and tread on from people walking in and out of the cage. His cage. What he had grown to see as his new home over the last few days.

It's been two days without his dear heart. And two days’ worth of food had wasted. His face looked a little more hollow, eyes more pronounced and wider. Wilder now in the moonlight. His blue and white bark having lost some of it's lustre.

And as he stared at his new found companion he couldn't help but to hear the whimpers in the background. Others like him in cages, either breaking or dying, suffering. He suffered like them but there were no more tears left, no more whimpers. He wasn't quite sure where his boots had gone. He knew he took them off to feel the grass under his feet. He knew he gave Thiurdmir his coat, then took it back. But it lay in a heap at the entrance to the cage.

His heart ached. She would show him how to deliver pain but in all honesty she had given him more pain than his dear heart had before. The physical pain in his arm had subsided. The poison had left his body tingling, and then faded. Physical pain was temporary, this was anguish.

But as he stared at his new cage mate, her limbs outstretched against the thorny vines. The fear in her eyes as he had wrapped the ropes around her, binding her tight. Soft reassurances he whispered to her, which he knew to be lies, just to keep her calm. He knew she was more than uncomfortable, he knew, and this was hours ago. She just hung there, unable to move, unable to protest. He had gagged her with a vine, something she couldn't bite through that easily.

Killing her would be easier. It would ease his suffering, it would ease her suffering. Though easy was not the way this would go down. "Three days" Rei had told him. Three days to break her, why anyone would want a broken companion was beyond him. He had seen them broken before. It wasn't necessarily a good thing. Moonlight reflected off her, a glimmer he caught in his eyes, she squirmed as he got up.

She wasn’t like the others he had had. She was calculating and exceptionally clever. Beautiful in her own way, and dangerous. And like him she was hungry.

The dagger twirled in his right hand. He had been given a gift, a wonderful gift of a weapon and not once had it dawned on him that he could have used this to try an escape. Escaping wasn't part of the plan, it was about letting go.

His fingers, thin and firm, dark blue contrasting with her purple ran over her distended abdomen. The life growing inside of her. His hand trembled, nausea overtaking him slowly, the doubt at the back of his mind. Was he really going to do this to her. Destroy her beauty. Doubt made room for anger, and anger flashed so brightly and fiery inside of him.

Suddenly a scream, feral and intimidating. The dagger lashed out across the bark on his chest. slicing deep, sap pouring from the wound. Another slash, not by far enough to kill him but the pain centred him. She could smell the sap, his life force oozing out of his chest. She jerked on the ropes in panic. It was futile, he knew how to bind someone quite tightly. A trick of the trade as a hunter, a trapper.

More sniffling from nearby, having heard his scream they cowered in the night. Cowered like he had before and like he wish he could. Cower in Saithei’s arms, cover himself in the other’s arms, the other’s scent. He tried to drive the thoughts out of his head with another slash, cutting across his collarbone. Then came the moment he stepped forward, bare feet soft on the grass, droplets of sap falling on the ground where he stood, pressing his chest against hers.

His whispers were overpowered by her shriek, despite the vine she shrieked in pain as the dagger dragged across her sides. Narrow sharp cuts, shallow, not by far enough to kill. Deep enough to spill blood.  The sap almost made them stick together, coagulating between them. She snapped at him, the vine falling from her mouth, writhing in her bindings, anger and fear palpable on the air.

Hours passed…

Illuin, perhaps it had been a bad idea to name her.

She had trusted him. Trusted him to the point where she had eaten the flesh of her kin out of his hand while he brought her to the Den. She trusted him through her agitation, the surroundings and the screams.

Despite that he pressed himself closer, telling her what a good girl she was as he continued. Much like Saithei had done to him, praise him as he suffered. A smile danced on his lips, yes, much like Saithei he could do this. His hand on her throat, keeping her teeth out of the way as at the end of all things the dagger plunged into her stomach raking up to cut her open.

Another shriek, followed by a howl from him, they sang in the moonlight as her young spilled from the sack she carried. Their little legs scattering across the floor, so rudely awakened just before their time. He could feel them climb up onto his legs, 32 little legs, four young spiders hungrily scaled him.

Crawling up against the combination of crying Sylvari and shrieking spider to feast on the banquet of sap and blood that was spilling out from both of them. Flesh torn by mandibles from her mangled egg sac, bark snapped, torn from him to feed their frenzy.

Hurried he cut the ropes, her eight legged form heavily coming down against him. Without warning her stinger sank into the side of his leg, pumping him full of venom. His eyes went wide, rolling in their sockets.  His breathing stocked, the small blue Sylvari fell to the ground, collapsing on himself and the four young spiders that were feeding on his stomach and chest. Gnawing away as the venom seared his nerves and paralyzed him.

Now it was her turn to watch him suffer, after two days of torture for some reason she did not kill him outright as was her nature. The fact that she scuttled off to tend to her own wound and watch him writhe as her young fed on him and on themselves evident of the changed nature of the beast.

[piltoverspinkest]

Reblog if you love putting your characters through hell and back. Having them bloody, broken, and needing someone to drag them home.

Fight scenes, blood, broken bones, and battle scars.

[derpinggm-blog]

Poor little good guy Holden often got the bad end of the stick for being so naive.

[drummxngarchive-blog]

I’M CURIOUS! Reblog this if you’re okay with your RP partners introducing NPCs into your threads?

[derpinggm-blog]

Stand by your pals.

They were teasing him. One red haired with freckles and a nasty evil grin. The other with raven black hair, quiet and calculating. The black haired one was egging the redhead on, poking his ears, pulling his hair. It was made abundantly clear by most kids that he was different. Most kids shunned him, blue skin, pointy ears and white hair. Most kids had probably never seen someone of his kind. But these two wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't need to be able to understand them to know their intentions were less than honourable. They were twice his size and picking a fight. But then something happened, when he let out a pained yelp as the redhead tugged on his ear. A little akward boy stepped in between them. Hardly half their size and age. His chestnut brown hair pulled into a small ponytail, which ended just on his shoulders, strands of hair falling loosely in his face. His eyes were set with intense determination, his small hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. The boy was lanky, hardly the age of six and the woolen shirt he was wearing a size or two to big, leaving a boney shoulder exposed as he stood there trying to look tall and protective. He was protecting him. The bully raised his voice, yelling at the smaller human who didn't say a word in return, which aggravated the other even more. The redhead's punch caught him square on the chin. The black haired one followed up and punched him right on the nose. His little guardian was knocked flat on his ass, and a small trickle of blood ran from his nose to his upper lip. He wasn't all that good of a protector really, never landing a blow in return. He did however seemed to have bought enough time, as the large human woman who seemed to be in charge came rushing over, and ended up dragging the bullies away by their ears. How ironic. His eyes met the warm brown ones of his little protector, and he couldn't help but to take his sleeve and wipe away the trickle of blood from the boy's nose before it hit that smile, he always seemed to smile, his only human friend.

[derpinggm-blog]

Memories

It was colder now, much colder than it had been the last couple of years. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders, trying to get himself to warm up. But at this time of night the wind simply cut into him like shards of ice.  He pulled his legs up, letting out a soft sigh as he stared up to the stars. It was to dark now to read, tucked away in the alcove he stared around the empty square. The light was still on in the matron's study over in the orphanage, and he wondered if she had just fallen asleep at her desk, or if she was still doing paperwork.

The sturdy form of the cathedral against his back made him feel safe, despite the cold, and the wind cutting his face. His view was pulled back to the book in his lap, traced the silver letters and the red binding with his fingers, before tucking them back in his sleeve to hide them from the wind.

"You're an idiot Ashwood"

The young watchman on the floor cast a wide bloodied smiled up to the large rough and black haired man, coughing, and spitting out another glob of blood. There seemed to be a mix of worry and anger on Shawn's face

"Admit it *cough* I'm loveable sir." His hands trembled as they moved to the hilt of the blade embedded in his side. He flinched in pain as he touched it and then looked to his left. Right next to him on the floor was someone, someone who's name he didn't even know, but who's life he just saved, and then repayed him with a dagger in his ribs.

"For fell's sake Ashwood, I can't do this."  The young man guided the sturdy hand to the blade, putting a wad of bandages in the other one. "Sure you can sir, just pull it out and push on the wound as hard as you can, alright? on three."

His face went pale, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he tried not to scream out in pain as the blade was yanked out, the pressure on the wound seemed unbearable at first, black spots dancing in his vision while his left hand scrambled for a vial from his bag, he uncorked it with his teeth and offered it to the older man. "Pour..in.."  his thin hand clenched the other man's uniform tightly as the liquid was poured in, he gritted his teeth, then all went black.

He awoke to the sound of a cart moving through the square, rubbed his eyes, tried to feel for his nose, but both his fingers and his nose had gone numb by now.  He slipped his hand under his robes, played his fingers over the small pink scar on his ribs and couldn't help but smile. Slowly he pulled himself upright, stretching in the first rays of sunlight and mouthing a soft prayer while looking up. The skies were clear, it was going to be a lovely day.

[derpinggm-blog]

Goodbye dear Elsie.

It was dark and the city streets were empty, the rain had washed everyone inside. Not even the rats were out in this kind of weather, Light not even the dead would be out in this weather if they could avoid it. But then why was he? Murky water pooled in a puddle on dirty cobbles had seeped inside the worn and weathered leather that were his boots, chilling the bare feet within. The rain kept beating down on his cloak and had soaked completely through, through his warm sweater and down onto his skin, chilling him to the bones. As if he had just emerged from the canals his hair stuck to his face like a soaked cardboard picture frame. The rain and cold camouflaged his tears and sobbing, replacing them with the look of a simple youth kneeling down in the mud out in ungodly weather shivering from the cold. His eyes were set on a small ragged piece of stone at the head of a freshly dug grave. He couldn't help but to think of the lifeless body he had put in the ground his afternoon, he could only imagine how cold and wet it was down there now, how much she would shiver would she still be alive. Death had become an integral part of his being, he had lost patients and friends in the past. But he was unsure why this had gripped his heart and shattered it into a million tiny pieces. Perhaps it were the faces of her friends, dirt stricken and trying hard to be tough for each other when they came to get them that afternoon in the Cathedral. Perhaps it had been his Brother's farewell speech, and maybe just maybe it was a feeling that in a different future she would have flourished, and it could have been him down there in the cold.  Perhaps this was simply his time to break down and cry for all those he had lost before, the drop that made the cup run over. He never noticed the heavy armoured footsteps sogging through the mud behind him nor the gentle sandalwood scent that accompanied his Brother Shieldsman. The only thing he felt was the heavy arm wrapping around him, and right there and then he stopped being a Shieldsman, he stopped being an Errant, a teacher and a scholar. He was quite simply Holden, a boy shattered by grief for someone he never really got to know and he cried, he cried his eyes out against the familiar surcoat of the older man at his side, he cried on the way to the Cathedral and it was only when he was stripped of his wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea that he ran out of tears.

[hatted-squirrel-blog]

[derpinggm-blog]

Wonderful little runts!

[spookywarmlight-deactivated2014]

Doing a survey. Reblog if you are a "Just Wing It" role player. No planning or plotting is needed. Nor permission to make a starter just for you.

[11854787-deactivated20161127]

[kyouheiprinceofsassiness-deacti]

Could you please reblog this if it's okay for me to come into your inbox even if we haven't rp'ed before?

[derpinggm-blog]

Sass with class.

Behind them a thrush was knocking, cracking a snail against a pile of stones which at one point in time would have probably been used to rebuild the house in front of it which burned down two years ago. Painfully obvious from the charred husk was that that never happened. Summer had passed and while it was still warm enough when out in the sun autumn was around the corner, the wind was picking up from the sea carrying cold air with it. The young doctor's fingers were busy rubbing salve onto a particularly scaley patch on an arm to thin for the person attached to it. The person that flinched accompanied by a hiss through their teeth as the green ointment was applied. "I suppose you are not going to tell me who did this to you hmm?" The young doctor's voice was reassuring, gentle. And he sounded much like a man who basically already knew the answer to anything he was going to ask. He knew because he'd been there, and the lopsided smile on the gaunt face said enough. "Hmpf" Exactly the answer he had expected. "Well it won't kill you, but you're sure to be sore for a few days with this. Judging from the marks it looks like you got your arm stuck on something rough, rope or reins of sorts hmm? Perhaps a rough glove, a watchman's glove?" "Howcome you always know huh?" She piped up, narrowing her eyes at the doctor who still couldn't help but to smile silently while he retrieved some bandages from his bag. "Because you have a penchant for getting into trouble." "Wha's that?" "What's what?" "A penchant." "It means you have a habit of getting into trouble, some might say you actually like it." "Proper don't" she mumbled and looked down when met with the doctor's raised eyebrow. "They's just always after us, don't let up nothing. Unfair is what it is." "YOU THERE! THIEF! STAND FAST!" A familair voice belonging to a particularly plump and mustached face boomed in the distance. The two seated there exchanged a quick glance. The uniformed form of the watchman coming in their direction at the pace of a wobbling sprint across the cobbles. With significant effort the doctor pushed himself up, leaning on his cane to keep the weight off his left leg as much as possible. Giving the dirty redheaded urchin a quick ruffle of grotty hair. "Go on, make yourself scarce, I'll handle him." She didn't need telling twice, feet were already in motion the little malnourished form ducking into the next best alleyway. The doctor all the while putting himself in a strategic position, right in the way of the plodding watchman that with his current speed was entirely unable to stop in time before running into the doctor, promptly tumbling onto the cobbles. "Blasted bombshells!" A string of profanities flapped from under the mustache as the man tried to push himself up. Flailing in the general direction the urchin sped off in as he dusted himself off. "Ah apologies constable, help a fellow up will you" By now the watchman was steaming, only holding out his hand because the social norm dictated the doctor was to be treated with a modicum of respect. And by now a few people who at first paid them no heed had stopped to watch the scene with mild interest. "Thank you kindly constable." The young doctor smiled, almost smirked. "Looks like your little criminal got away, terribly sorry about that my man." With a heavy breath and beads of sweat in his mustache. The smell of cheese and wine palpable as the watchman leaned in to grumble "They'll hang you for this one day doctor, mark my words, I'll see you hung." "You know constable" A thin hand gently resting on the meaty shoulder. "You should know better than to threaten the man who is supposed to tend to you when you are most vulnerable." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "And a great day to you constable, keep the streets safe hmm."

[trained-bunny]

For those people who don’t know what it stands for ._.

[catalystgamelabs]

Many, many years, while I still worked at FASA, we took an informal poll at a Gen Con panel (must have been close to a hundred people there). We’d just published a new book and we’d agonized (more so than usual) over the crafting of the Introduction. We asked people if...

[otpjongkey-deactivated20140127]

Reblog if you made a good friend on tumblr.