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TheAlphaMoist

Story Writer
  • Content Count

    615
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1,184 Godly

About TheAlphaMoist

  • Rank
    Your favorite ST unless you hate me
  • Birthday 07/07/1998

Contact Methods

  • Discord
    AlphaMoist#5682
  • Minecraft Username
    MoistVibes
  • Skype
    yeah
  • Website
    mhm

Profile Information

  • Location
    Central Time Zone, the only time zone that actually exists
  • Interests
    Clinging to any social interaction I can get

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Vas Vincrute, Balmak-Kibol, Marcas Weedsnatcher
  • Character Race
    That's racist

Recent Profile Visitors

16,162 profile views
  1. Vas would be slowly trailing the forests out of Gehenna, gazing upon a tree he once used as practice while he was a young shadeling. The laceration marks he left were no several feet above him, marking the decades that have long since past. As he reflected on his growth and on the events that led him to where he is now, a bird would flutter down, dropping a letter before flying off in a panic upon experiencing the Exalted’s frightful aura. As the man read the letter, he’d start over multiple times. Certain his Parasite had not found a way to play tricks on him once again, memories began to flash through his mind. Memories he hadn’t dwelled upon in many years. His mother, locking him in his room for several years as a child as punishment for not staying inside as often as she wanted. His sister, constantly mocking him for not being the little brother she had wanted. His brother, for always being compared to him. “Be more like Salem, Vas, why can’t you just be like your brother”, he murmured absentmindedly under his breath. His nephew, the same age as he yet always acting like the superior for simply being blooded. His uncle, who, despite Vas’ best efforts to make him proud and make the Mali’ker united, wished for his head on a pike. His brother in law, who watched it all happen, not bothering to intervene or even comfort Vas as a child. And of course, Father. Every strike, every punch, every choke hold his father had punished Vas with flooded into his mind. ”You are a disgrace to this family,” the former ‘ame mumbled to himself as he read the letter, echoing the words that once filled his mind. They were not uttered by his Parasite. They came from the man who was his Father. “You do not deserve the Vincrute name. You are nothing to this family. Look at Salem, he makes me proud. You will never make me proud. You are a failure. You are an imbecile. You’re too much of a ***** to even try to kill me. Fight back, Vas. Be a man, Vas. Show some strength, Vas. You’re making your mother cry, Vas. Vas. Vas. Vas. Vas, why can’t you just not **** anything up for once?” the man’s hands begin to quiver as he repeated the words out loud, his voice growing strained as hate began to fill his entire being. He soon began shouting. “I should have never taken you in! I should have abandoned you while you were a child! You do not deserve the life we gave you!” A tremendous wave of dread surged out of him as he snapped, causing the insects and the birds resting within the tree to begin scurrying and flying away, crying out with shrieks of terror. And it all stopped. There was his cousin, Elvira. Elvira, who judged him for the good inside his heart. Elvira, who judged him for how he treated others. Elvira, who did not care what his race was, or how he was born. Elvira, who accepted him, and loved him, and treated him as her equal. And now she was gone. Just like Alirya, just like Neci and Salem and Gusono and Saint, just like Salem and Izier, she was gone. He dwelt on the thought. Of the Vincrutes, he was now the last. A family of Paladins and Holy Knights. The last survivor: a being of darkness, a spawn of Iblees, corrupter of souls and Messiah to the Goddess of Rancour. Of the Holy, only the Dark prevailed. Ironic, it was. What started as a chuckle soon erupted into a bout of manic laughter. “Just as we’ve discussed in great detail, Elvira: those who suffer the most, grow the most!” He shouted this ecstatically, a tendril crawling out of his robes, taking the form of an axe. Its stygian form shined under the moonlight like metal, and the man began to hack at the tree in front of him. His laughing died down, and as the tree fell to the ground with a mighty crash, the man’s voice grew quiet, taking a monotonous tone. “And it seems as if I’ve grown just a little bit more today.”
  2. In the dark underbelly of Gehenna, a horrifyingly anxious feeling begins to fill its halls as a figure slowly climbs down the Manor’s staircase. Lifts are heard creaking and groaning as he descends lower and lower, and as he steps off of the platform, a cascade of whispers begin to emanate out of his helmet. Eldritch in nature, each one contrasting in tone and pitch, they all speak in unison as the being shambles onwards through the estate. “Oh Mother, oh Mother, what am I to do?” the voices say. He climbs a set of stairs, paying no attention to the multiple rooms at his side, each one occupying a sleeping resident. “You’ve granted me your boons, alleviated my curse. You have risen me above the rest, and still, it is not enough.” He reaches the end of a hall, and he caresses the handle of the steel door with one of his many shadowy black talons. “Mother of the Night, Queen of Nightmares, I need more.” He grinds the sharpened tip of his index finger against the door, leaving behind a single laceration against its metal surface. “Your Children need more.” The voices began to sound scornful as any inky tendril slithered against the creature’s back, the viscous extremity wrapping around the door, opening it after a moment’s pause. As he wandered into the room, the dull glow of redstone was all he had to greet him. “With each passing year, we are under fret from someone new. With each passing decade, we are under fret of losing more of your Children. You have tasked me with shepherding your Cabal, you have given me the power to fabricate more beings like me, but how can I do such when I need more power?” He stepped through a series of doors, entering a bedroom. He stopped by a desk, and he knelt down to look into a mirror. A tenebrous being stared back at him, its haunting gaze hidden behind a helmet made of foul wisps and smog. “With all your power, this is all you’ve given me? I cannot lead with this.” He began tapping a curved claw against the desk’s surface, stabbing into the wood easily with every movement. “Tell me what I must do. Fill my mind with your chaotic voice again. The Children need more, the Fathers need more, The Foretaker needs more. We all need more. Give me instructions, and I will do what needs to be done for us to be granted what we need.” He stood upwards, moving across a line of bookshelves to rest his sights against a bed. A Mali’fenn woman slept within its blankets, beginning to stir as the chaotic aura surrounding the Exalted began to leave its mark on her. “Oh Dread Mother, I will kill for you. I will torture for you. I will create orphans and I will burn the orphanage for you. I will sing maddening hymns in your name while I do it all. Give me a simple murmur, a single sign, and it will be done.” The creature eyed the woman resting within the bed for several moments, his tendrils licking hungrily in the air. Thoughts of ripping her apart and painting the room with her entrails filled his mind. He would prove to his Deity that his promises were not empty. He could do it easily. Without breaking a sweat, her life would end before she had time to release a shrill cry for help. And so he stared at her silently. He turned and left the room. The Mother is not impressed with acts of violence and murder. Such deeds do not fill her with the joy the creature wished to deliver to her. If he were to impress his God, Salvare would do it the right way. He rode the lift upwards, silent through the journey. He climbed each step with a clear and thoughtful mind, and he opened and closed every door with ease so as to not disturb the residents of the manor he sought to protect. He ventured outside, the brisk night air soothing him further. The moonlight shone off of his bulky body, which glistened like metallic obsidian as he entered and vacated the gatehouse. As The Infernal Prophet disappeared into the ‘Forest of Parasites’, as he had heard it called, he treaded onwards with only one thought on his mind. ”You will see that we are deserving of more. I will prove it to you, lest I be cast into the Abyss for disgracing your will-” the being continued to whisper to himself in various cascading voices as his frame began to shrink. The atrocious aura followed suit, barely becoming noticeable. His tan skin became visible, only for it to be hidden underneath the cowl he wrapped around himself. The yellow glow emitting from his eyes faded as well once his metallic mask was affixed to his face, and the wisps leaking from behind his eyes dissipated entirely after he finished his uttering, now speaking in his singular mortal tone. “-Arun’Asna.” Art by Chris Cold
  3. “Necromancy hasn’t been seen for nearly a century, kind of odd for it to be randomly brought up nowadays,” an Exalted Father would say to himself as he read the note. He then shrugged. ”Whatever keeps the children from playing outside at night, I guess.”
  4. I literally love you so much please sign my chest
  5. I thought i joined on the 26th but I guess I was wrong so I’m late AMA If I said yes, you would be disappointed because he hates everyone who isn’t me. But No 6.5, whenever I piss off the last community there is to piss off probably You’re already an Admin, you just have to believe in yourself At least three Pink You strike me as a 3, I’m an 8, and @Elennanore is a ******* 10/10 would come again The dynamic between host and parasite and how the host either finds ways to cope with the torturous being within his head or succumbs to its madness, all in exchange for power, was the biggest selling point to me, and the lore is pretty sick. I’ve also enjoyed how powerful of a tool it is for character growth, as you can start out with a perfectly innocent person who adopts the parasite out of ignorance, and end up with a completely different individual by the time you hit T5, warped and completely unrecognizable due to the torment they face within their mind. Also, the community is pretty rad. Nowadays, at least. It do how it be because it just really do be like that sometimes I don’t talk to minors, sorry. Alabama probably 17
  6. Application: Name: MoistMan6969 Gender Identity: Trapdomegoswitch How much anime do you watch: Sword Art Online is my favorite Are you an epic gamer: Yes, I beat my wife every day 😎 Please write a 3 paragraph essay explaining why you are a disappointment to your parents: I play pokemon go everyday I play pokemon go I play pokemon go everyday I play pokemon go What mental maturity do you possess? (Hint: Too much mental maturity = application denied 🙂 ) You just lost The Game
  7. Just a uh, friendly reminder that lore team can’t accept guns until tythus and telanir says it’s okay. This is an admin issue, not a lore one . . .

    1. Ayoou

      Ayoou

      No guns please

  8. Reminder that alchemy and poisons are not shelved. You can literally submit recipes for reviewal at anytime. This has been a thing since early October if memory serves correct. 

    @Old-Rattlesnake

    1. Jenny_Bobbs

      Jenny_Bobbs

      If a poison submission is accepted does this mean it can be used without the target party knowing it's a poison? 

    2. TheAlphaMoist

      TheAlphaMoist

      Probably, idk

  9. Lye is banned because sodium hydroxide is an extremely complicated chemistry thing. We didn’t care at first, but then someone began teaching people how to use lye to decompose bodies at an accelerated rate. People abused it, so it was axed. You want to use the lye found in wood ash? Great. Don’t call it lye. Call it wood ash.
  10. Lye isn’t shelved, it just straight up doesn’t exist. Maybe write lotc-ified lore for it... or just use some wacky fantasy excuse to make soap like come on this is a fantasy server who cares, animal fat infused with flowers or some **** idk
  11. Merry christmas from central timezone the only timezone that canonically exists

    1. Sorcerio

      Sorcerio

      Damn straight 

  12. Dragur does not belong in Cloud Temple and never will. ******* keep it away from there, and I won’t give a **** about anything else.
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