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Story Actor
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About Tato

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  1. Tato

    Dael'Ran Disguise Dissolution

    Pot ponders this, knowing little of Izkuzi and having well forgotten Cheza, considering it invalid as Dael was a known Demi-Ascended, having practiced mentalism and earth evocation at the least – and saved the lil’ halflings life two days prior with Aeriel’s gifts. But he’s also kinda dumb and read it too quickly to see that Dael was disconnected.
  2. Tato


    i want a better experience with these pieces of bread also, you could put this under the Role-play forum? P’haps go about it by making a ‘Cook Book’ of sorts – and continuously update it! Post in the comment section to let folk know when you update it and you could build a consolidated, RP, book of nifty cooking stuff
  3. Tato

    LotC 16 Personalities Test

    would be interesting to do this through the personality of ur char
  4. Tato


  5. Tato

    String yo

    if you throw a wool block 100 blocks down it breaks into four string
  6. Tato

    [PK] A Twisted End

    R u vaccinated
  7. Tato

    Muffins/Ilmarinen Introduction

    Very cool 😎 Welcome!
  8. §3.1 Always remain in character while in roleplay chat channels. have u ever MEME’d with your MATE in character just for the obvious OOC fuckery? Neither of ye take it seriously and its clearly not rule breaking... or is it? §3.9 Wherever you are mechanically, is where your roleplay character is. does that mean my character goes to the hub server §3.12 You can not be forced to permanently kill your character by another player without your consent. does this mean if i have a lore-enforced PK clause like a lich phylactery i can say that another character cannot kill me if my phylactery is broken cuz its a PK without my consent? oh wait there's a clause in the rules “Purposely exploiting or manipulating the rules in an attempt to use them to your own advantage and achieve the outcome the rule is designed to prevent is strictly against the rules.” Evidently, the rules are guidelines to common sense on the server. You’re clearly stretching the rules out of salt and making a fool out of yourself in the regard of “I HAVE hacks but I dont USE them”. Fairly, though, I agree with the main point in that unwritten rules should be documented – even if not officially in the rules, but set as precedent somewhere; however, I dont see much of rules and player-fuckery because its not hard to stay away from.
  9. Tato

    A Skahin’ Angel Caught Me

    A Skahin’ Angel Caught Me “My old life already forgot me, a skahin’ angel caught me; and I’ll be good for the rest of my life.” Two and half foot tall. Attired in boots. Protected by a stroppy flaw hat? A floppy straw hat. An unstealable grin. “Bum. Bum. Bum.” Brisk steps and fresh air. The melodical click of fingers. “Aye, aye, today is the best day.” Bright sun. Head above the clouds. Filled appetite. “Oh-oh-oh no need to let me go.” Green grass. Perky flowers. “I’m a lil’bit flat, but I ain’t gonna be that.” Towering by near half a foot, whiter than snow and fatter than a sweetroll, trot a shaggy goat beside the man. His voice sang out gentle in the air, articulating his joy – it was not what it once was - he was inexperienced in time and self. As crazy as it sounds, both are quite literal; but who could know that? He basked in the liberation, his soul freed from the prison of pain and sorrow. “It will take a lil’ time, but I’m comin’...” “I know that I’m the one to make you feel this way.” His voice was the void of discord; and not just harmonically. The planes seemed to never end; the treeline marked a humble rail to the expanse before him - decorated beyond green and flowers by only a solitary, outcast tree. It stood warped, bent, grown wrong. Wrong. Could nature be wrong, naturally? Different. It was different, and curiously so. “Why…” he spoke softly, Quota, his goat, grazing idly as Pot approached the oak “Why are you alone?” he asked to no response. “Why did you leave me? Tell me you need me, or I’ll never be.” the halfling sung out “What have I become, what have I become?” It didn’t quite make sense to any of the people not listening, but to him, it was the world he saw. His tiny palm trailed him as he circled the tree; its leaves vigorous and healthy, its abnormal trunk reaching low enough to force any normal man to duck - or even crawl - and its roots grasping and clawing into the ground. His slow circumferencing stopped as wide beady-green eyes found utter interest. “I am a Druid.” he announced to naught but himself. He watched in beauty and awe as his hand reached forth, hovering in the air before him: and the roots shifted, so gently and so slightly, but they did move. His gaze turned up to the sun, “I am a Paladin of the Light.” he decided, reaching to the sun and drawing forth a mighty cloth. It lingered above the vibrant grass, unfurling into a cocoon: a hammock. He grinned, turning to back towards the tree. Subtle shadows darkened the brown bark, and again, his hand reached out “I am an Owner of the Dark”. Another reached back, of darkness and shadow, its tainted and ever-shifting mass offering a hand-hold to Pot. “I am a Shaman.” he told the woman who approached as she braved the dangerous grass. Thorns tore violently at the flesh of her legs, drawing blood and stealing skin. She offered a smile that consumed the world, joyful and maternal, vigorous and loving. Her skin was perfect, devoid of blemishes and alive in its beautiful pale. Long brown hair hung down neatly unkempt and gentle blue eyes watched Pot . Again, he reached out; offering a hand of kindness, hope, safety to her. Their hands met, and pride blossomed in his little heart as the crimson dissipated and the perfection of her skin restored. “I am an Archon of the Void.” A voice behind him beckoned, and he repeated. Akezo let go, and the halfling stepped forth. Power surged through him. Not even the sky were his limit. The earth rose to the rise of his hand, the twinkle of gems within bringing a smile to the mage’s face. He stepped forth, and watched the ebb of mana in tranquil waves as they sought into the gems. He didn’t get to see that far though - as his form twirled compulsively and he crumbled to the floor. The tree was gone, the border was gone. It was a world of grass… of green. Of just green. The flowers had vanished and the colour drained. Was the sky green too? Wait- the tree was there. He tried to move his head to see it better, but he couldn’t move. He tried to cry out, to ask for help - Quota was sitting in the grass, watching him with gleaming red eyes - but he could not speak. I am the tree, he realised, and erupted into panic. Small arms and frail legs flailed and wrestled beneath the bindings. He was tied to the tree. “Help, Quota, HELP.” he cried out, unable to wrench free as sickly red flame consumed the barren field all around. His goat sat beneath him, baring its rotten teeth. Quota went to help, his jaw sinking into the thick, burning rope about his ankles. Wait- no. He retracted, they.. They were tighter. If goats could smile, this were it. Tears were his new melody as they carried his fear from his eyes. The putrescent flame reeked of rot and death, as the tree ignited. “A nail in a cup!” it shouted amongst a cheery chuckle. It was his voice. Yet - as he looked about the circular room, walled with slick wood and roofless - he realised he was the nail in the cup. Blood red wine flooded within, as Pot struggled unnoticed in the bottom. It burns, he screamed, drowning. And then he were home: where it all began. He was a baby, a baby elf, held tight and safe in the embrace of his parents. Newly born, his visage was covered in a soft wrap. All he could do was cry - but it was a good cry. He was happy, and he wanted to see them, his parents.. But crying was all he knew- Oh! The cover lifted as he appreciated the gentle rocking, blinded briefly by the sudden light. “AAAAH!” he screeched in naught but anguish and horror as his father’s visage glared down to him. His parents, whom he had not seen in.. so long; too long, who were not his parents. Their heads… their heads had been removed and replace with… goat heads. The scream startled his father, and he fell from his arms. The world was black, a void, the air the consistency of a liquid as thick as blood. He could not breathe, but Pot did not see that. He looked before him; and the old him looked back. What was him - the part he lost, reached out, taller and more… oh dear: his paled, mouldy skin clung to his bones. His ribs were the most horrifying, but - were his fingers flesh or marrow? His only withered eye looked as though it may fall from its sunken socket and his hair was scarce and white. “This is not me. This is not me. This is not me.” he chanted as tears continued to roll down his cheeks, his form frozen and sight sorrow.
  10. Tato

    Character Recommendations

    Endeavour to locate and collect the oblivion shards wcattered around the world to finally assemble the dual void katannaz. Play a character that learns all five elemental evocations, then realise you’re still not avatar. fr: play a spiritualist. The spirits are hella fun; and it doesnt have to be on an orc (tho ya may get **** thrown) – but do it for a religious character in that sense and see how the develop to perceive the world as one made of them. join ET or... EST? ST? play the old awoken god, betrayed by the world, seekinf vengeance and destruction on all
  11. Tato

    I Fought the Lag and the Lag Won

    how many bars of hunger does a rotten potato restore?
  12. Tato

    The Archbishops Report - Demons Among Men

    ((Who ‘RPly’ sketched such detailed images? Is the bishop an esteemed artist capable of reciprocating such precision from memory – or articulating it to someone who could do so, so confidently based off word?))
  13. Tato

    Tranquility Destroyed

    Aelrindel reflects on the disconnect from his life: the first time, he lost his father. The second time, now, he lost his friend, and guide. Perhaps if he weren’t so inclined to the more tranquil presence of nature, Rin’s would not be so hurting. He of course knew not of such, yet: and what would come to his frail, and insipid, self could only amplify the screaming introvertedness.
  14. Tato

    [PK] The Shaman Who Wasn't

    The Shaman Who Wasn’t I Hope You Get It Now | Crooked Colours Can't escape your shackles of time, We both prison into our old mind, Don't forget it now “I’m-I’m doing it!” He exclaimed like a child, excited; his eye wide with wonder as the bleeding stopped along the laceration. “It will not treat the wound, though.” She warned, and he heeded; making use of the meager supplies that lined the bench beside him. A dim light flickered from the wall, barely illuminating the double-cavern, as the thick air permeated the duo’s nostrils, smelling of the foul metal of blood. The elf looked to the man within the cell. You look more like a child than a man, he pondered, his attention drawn to the woman as she moved to paint the stone with an elegant, and fierce crimson. In awe he watched the fluid skill of the woman as she lay the runes… Sunshine after shrouded behind, Total darkness, closed venetian blinds, I hope you get it now What if it doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t work? The elf stressed fearfully every day since. The true magnitude of death had loomed before him, trailing every step and forging every new. Everything is dangerous. Anything could hurt him. He hated Loras- he wanted Loras gone; but he was not ready. He could not face it. What was it like after? Where would he go? Where, if it didn’t work? The obsession consumed him, his sleep little. It haunted his dreams; a hunger for his life, a call for death and a lust for life. He dreamt terrors and woke to worse, recalling not the images but the fear of his sleep. Feelin' like there's no way out, Lead me by the hand, Show this man there's a greater route An ordinary day he thought as a duo of bandits took him bound by the roads. He was calm. They weren’t going to kill him. He needn’t fear death in such a dire situation. It was a twisted perception, fearing it when naught was happening; and not fearing it when all was happening. He’d practised little on the feat that followed, and never had he truly used it; glad he was that he had else he be a slave. Oh how sick fate is. If he had not resisted, had not fought, the day would have been different. He ran for his life after, and safely arrived to Sutica. Tired: starved from water and food, sleep and comfort, Loras fell to the lush green grass by the blue water, and the world fell away. The clear of the water only made his mouth more dry, yet he’d had a moment of peace- a fleeting moment soon lost as the Doctor held him to spear-point. She tied him, binding the elf as the bandits had; and into the clinic he’d gone. I just need to see.. He tried his best to repeat the feat - but his efforts were fruitless, and he struggled in silent futility. In the end it was not enough. In the end she did what he thought she could not. In the end Zatanaes Avern thrust the spear and Loras Sythenael’s soul had passed. It passed.
  15. Tato

    [Your View] Nuggets or Tenders

    good thing i don't eat them