For me personality is like THE number 1 thing
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OBD Convo #41: Everyone sees the same sky
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Pretty women are rather easy to find. It's finding one who has looks and a good personality(aka, not a bitch because she knows she's pretty and expects folks to bend over backwards for her shitty behavior) that's the difficult part, especially in current year, if you're still chasing. Bonus points if you find a girl who has also got a good sense of humor, though this is even rarer(again, especially today), as finding a woman who can tell good jokes is like finding a needle in a haystack. 
El Hermano
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Happy Halloween to y'all. Whenever I get to finally visit the U.S I'd love to do it on Halloween. Always seemed like a ton of fun. It's been pretty much a childhood dream of mine to experience it.
Hmm. Went even crazier with 2/7.
Only five more parts to go.
Apotheosis, chapter 28, spoiler. Also, decided on a song.
Only five more parts to go.
Apotheosis, chapter 28, spoiler. Also, decided on a song.
Chapter 28: Lord of the Rotted Tower
"I am The Reaper, and death is my shadow."
- Darrow O'Lykos
The sensation penetrated everything. This feeling as pervasive as the taste of any ambrosia. Caelum Vorlesh gingerly cradled the corpse of the crow. The bird was a present from Areelu Vorlesh. The person who had given him the gift of life.
The witch who he called mamă. The Betrayer of Humanity, or rather who the witch would one day be.
The necromancer did everything that he could. He always fed the bird. He would never dare cage it. That freedom the crow had may have been an insult to anyone else, but for Caelum Vorlesh it was sacred. There would be no prison for this creature. Who he had held close to his heart.
Caelum Vorlesh had even went out of his way to learn Speak With Animals. The spell gave him the ability to converse with the warm-blooded vertebrae. The necromancer wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn from it, and what the creature would share always piqued his interest.
There was a problem. The necromancer was diligent, and always tended to every ailment the crow had, whether it was a broken wing, or a pathogen it had contracted. Caelum Vorlesh had used his magic to heal the creature.
What the necromancer could not do was best the greatest adversary of all. Death itself. Which had come with age, and the bird had perished at last. He did not know of anything. There was no spell he was capable of that could fix this problem.
It was with that realization that Caelum Vorlesh felt loss. That loss did not leave him. It stayed with the necromancer forever. It would accumulate with every death that he had witnessed.
Areelu Vorlesh could only do so much to comfort her child. The witch did not want to meddle in the affairs of the divine. It would draw the attention of unwanted guests. The witch would try anything else, but it was never enough for Caelum Vorlesh. The embrace of his mamă did not ease his torment. This affliction which continued to steal away all that he cherished. This thing called death. Which he despised above all others.
The necromancer, delved deeply into the arcane, and he became powerful. Caelum Vorlesh freed them all of this curse, but it was never enough. No, not just to bring back those he cared for. He wandered the world. He saw every corner of Golarion, and wherever he went death followed. Wherever he went that hatred would stir.
How dare this thing destroy the lives of these people! How dare it impose itself to bring tragedy to the innocent! How dare it, how dare it, how dare it! It had become his focus. The necromancer would eradicate this death. This dragon which spurned him at every turn. It would by his hand that death would die. It would by his hand that the people would be freed.
The necromancer only needed a teacher, and that is when he heard it. The Serpent calling him, and it drew him towards the person who would become his master. The Undying King. The greatest of all necromancers. The power he gained made him an enemy of Pharasma. The Lady of Graves would not forgive him. No, he had trespassed into her realm. Death was her domain.
Caelum Vorlesh knew who it was when he burned at the stake. When he watched those fools dance on his grave. Pharasma had orchestrated it all, and when he met her at last? The necromancer did what he always would. He challenged death, but this would be unlike anything he faced before.
He had lost.
The Abyss had become his home, and the demons his jailers. Their torture was agonizing. It drove him insane. Areelu Vorlesh, his mamă, would not stand for it.
The witch who was once mortal, had cast aside her humanity, and became just as these monsters. In order to save her child, and not just save him but grant his wish. Caelum Vorlesh desired the power to challenge these petulant deities.
Their rules would bind her child no more! Areelu Vorlesh would protect her treasure! Perhaps her love was perverse. Poisoned by the Abyss. What was once pure had become corrupt. The love of a mother turned towards something unseemly. The witch would destroy the world to save her son! The Worldwound was born, and from it came war!
In that war I was born.
The second son. The unwanted result of an experiment gone awry. I had seen everyone like myself die to her cruelty. Those who I would have called brother or sister, but in this crusade, I had found it: the family I had lost. The purpose I had sought. The desire I could call my own.
I became Arlan Vorlesh. I became The Knight Commander.
I could have destroyed the shadow. I could have had my revenge. I could have watched as Areelu Vorlesh lost the person she loved above all others again. Instead I had spared the specter. The shadow had become one of mine. A crusader. A soldier in my war, and in a way I was satisfied.
A childhood like I had dreamed of would never be possible, but I did not need one. If only I had these people by my side. I was a mad man. I was broken beyond repair, and I would not have it any other way! This was everything that I was, and to take it away? It would mean that Arlan Vorlesh was no more! That I was nothing!
I am my tragedy! I am my torment! I am my madness!
I am war! I am conflict! I am all of my problems!
Peace was my enemy.
If any would dare to steal that from Arlan Vorlesh? I would show them.
Everything that I entailed. The destroyer of the Abyss.
The Challenger of the Gods.
"K-Knight Commander..." I held the soldier in my arms. This champion? The Berserker Armor had failed him, but he endured despite that. He fought to protect these people. His people. Those he called brother and sister. "Did I do the right thing, my lord?" The blood on his hands. When he had fought for that tyrant. It could not be washed away.
There was no pride. Not in the service of Ganishka. Only shame. Only unending nightmares for every sin.
"My crusader." I brush his hair aside. Which had been matted by blood. The damage was severe. Whatever curse had been inflicted on him rendered his wounds dire. The armor would not save him. "I could not be prouder."
There was something soothing about my voice. I was father and mother both to these soldiers. When the crusader hears it at last? That is when death claims him. The campaign was over for him. His war had come to an end, and he could find it at last. Whatever he had been searching for? The dream that had escaped him? It was now within his grasp.
My war had just begun. Radiance glimmers. The blade had a purpose, and I raise it. The holy light it had expelled banished the darkness. The monsters approaching the church spontaneously combusting in the presence of it. There were more than just the walking dead. There were many leeches. Creatures of the night. Those vampires had burst into flame. All except the ascendant vampires. Who just barely survived this resplendence, but even they felt as if their power was draining from them.
There was no humor. All traces of mirth had fled with the arrival of this dark god. This destroyer of worlds.
The Whispered One.
Vecna had ascended eons ago, and in this visage? The Arch-Lich resembled a weathered skeleton. There was no meat. Only bone. Empty eye-sockets which held oblivion and glimpsed every machiavellian appetite, a crystal monocle, opulent robes which had been embroidered with the countenance of a great serpent, an ornate gauntlet on one hand, and a grimoire made out of a cadaver in another. Whose corpse did that belong to? I had no idea. The face on the grimoire had been petrified, frozen by whatever spell created the book, and the expression it had was one of loathing. Whoever this person had been in the past? They held a grudge against Vecna. The binding was made out of a portion of their vertebral column, and there were stitches which held their epidermis together. It served as the cover for this tome.
One of many victims. Over the millennia I had no doubt that The Undying King had collected the souls of thousands. If not more than that. This craving he had was never satisfied. It only grew as he devoured these aimless wanderers.
At the center of it all, I had seen it from the entrance of the church, and he was waiting atop a tower. Which had risen from the earth itself, and it left my city in ruins. The Chained God was waiting.
I would not disappoint him.
I did not hesitate. Not even for a nanosecond. When I jump from the church the world trembles all the way down to the core. Radiance brilliantly glittering with a grace even a solar would be hard pressed to match. The envy of every celestial. I reach the summit of it, and the necromancer was already prepared.
Five minutes.
That is all I had. Against a monster like this I had to be everything I once was, and this holy light carried the same miracle I brought to this realm. I could feel it. The promise I had made.
This poultice for my heart.
Vecna had already cast it. Siphon Time. All of that magic directed at the mortal who had humiliated him. I slow to a crawl only for a fraction of a second, before the blade in my hand shimmers in response to it. It casts Dispel Magic, Greater. The spell had failed against this flare of transcendent power, and I am set free before I lose my life.
Radiance, when properly wielded by someone of worth, becomes a Holy Avenger, and the bane of all things paranormal. Whoever held it in their possession? They would be protected from any magic. It drastically increases their resistance to The Weave. Whether the spell was infernal or celestial. It made no difference.
That was not all.
The touch of this blade? The holy light it generated? When it came into contact with anyone or anything who was wicked by any measure of the word? That is when it was able to penetrate anything. There would be no protection. Not even the spell aptly named Invulnerability could provide any kind of defense. The only way of surviving it was by avoiding Radiance, and never allowing it to graze you.
Vecna flinches. He could feel it, and he knew exactly what would await him if he allowed that to transpire.
"I told you before, Vecna! The foundation will be built on your corpse!" This dominion would have him as the bedrock. An imperium unlike any other before it, and which would conquer the galaxy.
The Undying King felt revulsion. When he witnessed it. A war that would consume everything. All worlds beholden to it. All races enslaved by it. A corpse, decrepit and debased, intertwined with machinery, and crimson eyes.
Those same crimson eyes that gazed into him. That pierced his soul. Arlan Vorlesh...
What would become of him? Vecna only knew that what he saw would mean the end of all things.
I did not care for his vision. I only cared about my crusade. I only cared for my children. This family I had found at last. Whatever else may come to pass? I would face it.
Just as I always did, and always would.
"This the day that death will die."
The dragon will perish, and by mine own effort.
Not that of any other.
"I am The Reaper, and death is my shadow."
- Darrow O'Lykos
The sensation penetrated everything. This feeling as pervasive as the taste of any ambrosia. Caelum Vorlesh gingerly cradled the corpse of the crow. The bird was a present from Areelu Vorlesh. The person who had given him the gift of life.
The witch who he called mamă. The Betrayer of Humanity, or rather who the witch would one day be.
The necromancer did everything that he could. He always fed the bird. He would never dare cage it. That freedom the crow had may have been an insult to anyone else, but for Caelum Vorlesh it was sacred. There would be no prison for this creature. Who he had held close to his heart.
Caelum Vorlesh had even went out of his way to learn Speak With Animals. The spell gave him the ability to converse with the warm-blooded vertebrae. The necromancer wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn from it, and what the creature would share always piqued his interest.
There was a problem. The necromancer was diligent, and always tended to every ailment the crow had, whether it was a broken wing, or a pathogen it had contracted. Caelum Vorlesh had used his magic to heal the creature.
What the necromancer could not do was best the greatest adversary of all. Death itself. Which had come with age, and the bird had perished at last. He did not know of anything. There was no spell he was capable of that could fix this problem.
It was with that realization that Caelum Vorlesh felt loss. That loss did not leave him. It stayed with the necromancer forever. It would accumulate with every death that he had witnessed.
Areelu Vorlesh could only do so much to comfort her child. The witch did not want to meddle in the affairs of the divine. It would draw the attention of unwanted guests. The witch would try anything else, but it was never enough for Caelum Vorlesh. The embrace of his mamă did not ease his torment. This affliction which continued to steal away all that he cherished. This thing called death. Which he despised above all others.
The necromancer, delved deeply into the arcane, and he became powerful. Caelum Vorlesh freed them all of this curse, but it was never enough. No, not just to bring back those he cared for. He wandered the world. He saw every corner of Golarion, and wherever he went death followed. Wherever he went that hatred would stir.
How dare this thing destroy the lives of these people! How dare it impose itself to bring tragedy to the innocent! How dare it, how dare it, how dare it! It had become his focus. The necromancer would eradicate this death. This dragon which spurned him at every turn. It would by his hand that death would die. It would by his hand that the people would be freed.
The necromancer only needed a teacher, and that is when he heard it. The Serpent calling him, and it drew him towards the person who would become his master. The Undying King. The greatest of all necromancers. The power he gained made him an enemy of Pharasma. The Lady of Graves would not forgive him. No, he had trespassed into her realm. Death was her domain.
Caelum Vorlesh knew who it was when he burned at the stake. When he watched those fools dance on his grave. Pharasma had orchestrated it all, and when he met her at last? The necromancer did what he always would. He challenged death, but this would be unlike anything he faced before.
He had lost.
The Abyss had become his home, and the demons his jailers. Their torture was agonizing. It drove him insane. Areelu Vorlesh, his mamă, would not stand for it.
The witch who was once mortal, had cast aside her humanity, and became just as these monsters. In order to save her child, and not just save him but grant his wish. Caelum Vorlesh desired the power to challenge these petulant deities.
Their rules would bind her child no more! Areelu Vorlesh would protect her treasure! Perhaps her love was perverse. Poisoned by the Abyss. What was once pure had become corrupt. The love of a mother turned towards something unseemly. The witch would destroy the world to save her son! The Worldwound was born, and from it came war!
In that war I was born.
The second son. The unwanted result of an experiment gone awry. I had seen everyone like myself die to her cruelty. Those who I would have called brother or sister, but in this crusade, I had found it: the family I had lost. The purpose I had sought. The desire I could call my own.
I became Arlan Vorlesh. I became The Knight Commander.
I could have destroyed the shadow. I could have had my revenge. I could have watched as Areelu Vorlesh lost the person she loved above all others again. Instead I had spared the specter. The shadow had become one of mine. A crusader. A soldier in my war, and in a way I was satisfied.
A childhood like I had dreamed of would never be possible, but I did not need one. If only I had these people by my side. I was a mad man. I was broken beyond repair, and I would not have it any other way! This was everything that I was, and to take it away? It would mean that Arlan Vorlesh was no more! That I was nothing!
I am my tragedy! I am my torment! I am my madness!
I am war! I am conflict! I am all of my problems!
Peace was my enemy.
If any would dare to steal that from Arlan Vorlesh? I would show them.
Everything that I entailed. The destroyer of the Abyss.
The Challenger of the Gods.
<<x>>
"K-Knight Commander..." I held the soldier in my arms. This champion? The Berserker Armor had failed him, but he endured despite that. He fought to protect these people. His people. Those he called brother and sister. "Did I do the right thing, my lord?" The blood on his hands. When he had fought for that tyrant. It could not be washed away.
There was no pride. Not in the service of Ganishka. Only shame. Only unending nightmares for every sin.
"My crusader." I brush his hair aside. Which had been matted by blood. The damage was severe. Whatever curse had been inflicted on him rendered his wounds dire. The armor would not save him. "I could not be prouder."
There was something soothing about my voice. I was father and mother both to these soldiers. When the crusader hears it at last? That is when death claims him. The campaign was over for him. His war had come to an end, and he could find it at last. Whatever he had been searching for? The dream that had escaped him? It was now within his grasp.
My war had just begun. Radiance glimmers. The blade had a purpose, and I raise it. The holy light it had expelled banished the darkness. The monsters approaching the church spontaneously combusting in the presence of it. There were more than just the walking dead. There were many leeches. Creatures of the night. Those vampires had burst into flame. All except the ascendant vampires. Who just barely survived this resplendence, but even they felt as if their power was draining from them.
There was no humor. All traces of mirth had fled with the arrival of this dark god. This destroyer of worlds.
The Whispered One.
Vecna had ascended eons ago, and in this visage? The Arch-Lich resembled a weathered skeleton. There was no meat. Only bone. Empty eye-sockets which held oblivion and glimpsed every machiavellian appetite, a crystal monocle, opulent robes which had been embroidered with the countenance of a great serpent, an ornate gauntlet on one hand, and a grimoire made out of a cadaver in another. Whose corpse did that belong to? I had no idea. The face on the grimoire had been petrified, frozen by whatever spell created the book, and the expression it had was one of loathing. Whoever this person had been in the past? They held a grudge against Vecna. The binding was made out of a portion of their vertebral column, and there were stitches which held their epidermis together. It served as the cover for this tome.
One of many victims. Over the millennia I had no doubt that The Undying King had collected the souls of thousands. If not more than that. This craving he had was never satisfied. It only grew as he devoured these aimless wanderers.
At the center of it all, I had seen it from the entrance of the church, and he was waiting atop a tower. Which had risen from the earth itself, and it left my city in ruins. The Chained God was waiting.
I would not disappoint him.
I did not hesitate. Not even for a nanosecond. When I jump from the church the world trembles all the way down to the core. Radiance brilliantly glittering with a grace even a solar would be hard pressed to match. The envy of every celestial. I reach the summit of it, and the necromancer was already prepared.
Five minutes.
That is all I had. Against a monster like this I had to be everything I once was, and this holy light carried the same miracle I brought to this realm. I could feel it. The promise I had made.
This poultice for my heart.
Vecna had already cast it. Siphon Time. All of that magic directed at the mortal who had humiliated him. I slow to a crawl only for a fraction of a second, before the blade in my hand shimmers in response to it. It casts Dispel Magic, Greater. The spell had failed against this flare of transcendent power, and I am set free before I lose my life.
Radiance, when properly wielded by someone of worth, becomes a Holy Avenger, and the bane of all things paranormal. Whoever held it in their possession? They would be protected from any magic. It drastically increases their resistance to The Weave. Whether the spell was infernal or celestial. It made no difference.
That was not all.
The touch of this blade? The holy light it generated? When it came into contact with anyone or anything who was wicked by any measure of the word? That is when it was able to penetrate anything. There would be no protection. Not even the spell aptly named Invulnerability could provide any kind of defense. The only way of surviving it was by avoiding Radiance, and never allowing it to graze you.
Vecna flinches. He could feel it, and he knew exactly what would await him if he allowed that to transpire.
"I told you before, Vecna! The foundation will be built on your corpse!" This dominion would have him as the bedrock. An imperium unlike any other before it, and which would conquer the galaxy.
The Undying King felt revulsion. When he witnessed it. A war that would consume everything. All worlds beholden to it. All races enslaved by it. A corpse, decrepit and debased, intertwined with machinery, and crimson eyes.
Those same crimson eyes that gazed into him. That pierced his soul. Arlan Vorlesh...
What would become of him? Vecna only knew that what he saw would mean the end of all things.
I did not care for his vision. I only cared about my crusade. I only cared for my children. This family I had found at last. Whatever else may come to pass? I would face it.
Just as I always did, and always would.
"This the day that death will die."
The dragon will perish, and by mine own effort.
Not that of any other.
Last edited:
@Paxton @Claudio Swiss @B Rabbit
So it turned out she actually did respond when I was sleeping lol. I've gotten burned from this before and I'm a perfectionist that gets caught in my own head so I tend to be this way but thanks.
We had good chemistry in person. It's continuing over text which is why it felt like I was being iced yesterday. I think I should probably just invite her to the party I'm planning for my birthday this weekend. Although I'd rather have her one on one. I need to broach the subject of us meeting again and it's something I'm doing anyway.
Agenda Piece
Two Piece
Sweat Piece
Stairs Piece
Sword Piece
Rat Piece
Bruise Piece
Tier List Piece
Goda Piece
Bleach
Yu Yu Hakusho.
Dragon Ball.
History's strongest Disciple.
Slam Dunk
Angel Densetsu
Claymore
Flame of Recca
Busou Renkin
GTO
Get Backers.
Just ones I can think of right now.
Gordo be like, "Top ten? I don't have time for that shit. Dragon Ball is the number 1, and that's all you need to know."
Dragon Ball
One Piece
Rosario + Vampire
Claymore
Yu-Gi-Oh
Shaman King
Special mention goes to Ghost Reaper Girl, PLEASE GET WELL SOON IKEDA.
DestinyDestroyer
Paramount
Lemme guess, that's Quetz rightMore Halloween cheer.
DestinyDestroyer
Paramount
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