Posts by Domitian

The winner of the October game giveaway for Overwatch is: Shywolf! Congratulations!

The next giveaway is for Shadow of the Tomb Raider! Check here for more info!

    I'm having some trouble getting onto one of my accounts, Lorina . It's been a few years since I've played on it, so I can't recall the password, and the 'forgot password' option isn't sending a message to any of my accounts, so I think its email is probably the internal address to one of the subaccounts I've deleted over the years. Is there any way for me to regain access to the account?

    Domitian took the backhand with equanimity, despite the row of short claw marks it opened up on his cheek, and obediently turned his attention to the queen, his expression not fearful, or even angry, but resigned. His face contorted in pain as the dagger was driven into his shoulder, and he forced himself to remain still, though every instinct called for him to fight back. If he posed a threat to the queen, he'd certainly be killed. His shoulder felt like fire, and a sickening warmth was spreading across the surrounding skin as blood pooled in his fur and began to slowly drip down to the ground at his paws.

    And so the mocking began. Domitian turned his large head, staring impassively at Colt. His lip curled back, revealing jagged teeth, but he refrained from snarling, and quickly resumed his facade of neutrality. Gods, let them get it over with already!

    Fine, he was fine, he was alive, and that was what mattered. The suspense wasn't killing him in any literal sense. He would endure this, like he endured everything else: because he had to. The large tiger dug his claws into the ground, and returned his stare to straight ahead of him, in the middle distance. They could hurt him, but they couldn't hurt him. He'd go away in his mind, revisit better days in his memory. He didn't want to be here.

    Domitian grunted in pain as she battered at his head, but was able to regain his senses quickly enough to dark aside and avoid the shower of deadly spines directed towards him. He suppressed a hysterical laugh, then- well, what point was there in trying to keep his sanity? He was stuck here until he died. He was going to lose it sooner or later. The tiger let the hysterical laughter bubble up out of his throat, his face contorted in a rictus of glee, and lunged again, this time aiming to latch onto one of the dragon's back legs and hold on, to reduce her mobility so that Croc would have an improved chance of hitting with his own attacks.

    Domitian had, to his utter shock, been let out of his cage.

    He wasn't free, certainly- the wary looks and hissed warnings not to try anything were neough to keep that point clear in his mind- but he wasn't in the hole. It was time to fight. He listened to the chaotic sounds of battle, suppressing a grin. Clans, always fighting each other. If they ever unified, they could spread their evil across the whole world, but they never would. They were too corrupted to consider cooperation as an option.

    He wouldn't try to escape again. Hope was a luxury he could no longer afford; what little he still held had been snuffed out upon his warm welcome home. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the wide open spaces, the gorgeous blue sky, while he was out.

    Domitian bounded towards the battle, his heavy iron collar flashing in the low light. The gladiator leaped towards Thea Arcanium , claws extended, teeth bared in unrestrained glee. His goal was to rake his claws down her right wing, hopefully grounding her for the duration of the flight. He'd seen eagles pick up turtles and drop them from great height onto rocks below to crack open their shells; he had no intention of suffering the same fate.

    This was what he'd feared since he'd first been captured. He should be terrified. He should be shaking with fear. Instead he felt- relieved, he thought. It was finally happening. He didn't have to wait any longer. The suspense was over. Now, all he had to do was survive it.

    He stared straight ahead, ignoring the weight of the metal collar, the sting of the wounds he'd gained from Bucky, and, earlier, Dantalion, in their attempts at bringing him 'home.' Nothing life threatening, but Gods, it hurt. No matter. It wouldn't kill him, so it didn't matter at all. That's what he told himself, anyway.

    His mind kept coming back to what was about to happen. Would they skin him? Maybe they'd drive knives through his feet, or cut his eyes out, or- no, no, he couldn't think about it. It'd drive him mad- madder, at least, than he was already from his extended stay with these monsters. His hackles were up, making him seem larger than he was already, but he recognized that he didn't have the power in this situation.

    Ah, there was Alsanna. She seemed upset. She shouldn't watch this, he thought. Maybe the distaste he saw was nothing but a facade, and she enjoyed this as much as the rest of them. No, no, more likely she felt an obligation to be here. She was a healer of some sort, wasn't she? Perhaps she was responsible for keeping him alive. He felt a surge of gratitude, though he was careful not to let it show on his expression. He had one ally here. That was enough.

    // it's all good! I like your writing c:

    Domitian forced his expression into a flat mask, though internally he was roiling with anger, fear, and, increasingly, claustrophobia. This was... not good. He'd been treated with... not kindness, but tolerance, when he first came. Now he'd made them angry. He knew from his first capture that pleading for mercy would do no good; in fact, it would likely only egg the clanners on to further heights of brutality. Right now, if he wanted to survive, he must endure. That much, he could do.

    He made fleeting eye contact with Alsanna in appreciation for her attempt at helping him, though he broke it off just as quickly. No sense in dragging her down with him. She was genuinely kind to him. So long as he had the choice to do so, he would return her kindness. If it came to his life, he wouldn't hesitate to turn on her, but pain? Pain, he could survive. In any case, Alsanna had no authority to save him.

    "You're looking well," Domitian snarked back, eyeing Croc's throat dubiously. He had killed the other man, hadn't he? He remembered it vividly; no, he wasn't going mad, it was the world that was crazy. He lashed his tail, once, then went still, carefully observing his surroundings. Security would be tighter around him this time, certainly, but that didn't mean escape was impossible. The real issue is the impressive dedication these Ruiners had to recovering him; to truly escape, he'd no doubt have to take shelter with another clan- and one is as bad as another. There was no way he was willingly working for any Clan.

    Domitian started back to consciousness, blood welling from his cheek where the tips of Bucky's claws had caught him, rolling quickly to his feet and backing up until the length of the chain around his neck stopped him. He snarled low in his chest, more out of instinct than any intention to do so, baring his teeth. He'd been so close. He'd escaped the guards, evaded Dantalion, the first Clanner who'd hunted him down, but the second- he'd been in bad shape, and, even when he gave his all, it wasn't enough.

    He doubted they'd be so lax around him in the future. They had thought him a weakling and a coward, then; now, he had managed to thwart them, even if only for a few days. Some dark corner of his psyche felt a twisted satisfaction at this, even as the rest of his mind was whited-out with fear and barely-suppressed hostility.

    Finally, the maine coon's question reached him through the haze of adrenaline, and he felt a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up. "Well, I had to try, didn't I?" he rasped, eyes darting from side to side nervously as he surveyed his environment. Gods, the cage again. It felt even smaller, now that he'd spend the last week sleeping under the stars every night.

    Cool! I'll double-check that Cobble's still up for it, then get back to you ASAP.

    Are you on the discord? i like to chat and plot there, though if you don't use it, I totally understand, and can continue to talk on the site.

    Hey, I had an idea for a plot that requires a magic user. So, Domitian is a prisoner of the Sanguine Ruins, and he's a flight risk. Could Primal basically tether Domitian's soul to the Sanguine Ruins? The effects I had in mind are:

    1. Whenever Dom is a certain distance from SR land, he becomes 'soulless,' bloodthirsty and savage. (He'll be able to circumvent this for short periods of time by wearing a vial filled with sand from the Ruins as a necklace.)

    2. He is bound to obey the legitimate ruler of SR, either to the letter, or to his best understanding of their intention.

    3. He'll be able to gain super strength and speed by making sacrifices to the clan.

    I hope you're interested! I understand if not, though, so no pressure c:

    Ah, there was the catch. He paused, considering his memories carefully in order to find the most likely place for the key to be hiding. "I don't know where they're normally stored, but they have to be accessible so that prisoners can be fed. I'd bet the guard on duty has a copy," he said glancing warily over his shoulder at the NPC in question. "They've changed shifts once since they locked me in here, but I heard metal jangle during the switch. I bet that was the key." Maybe she'd be able to get it off the guard. Maybe she wouldn't. Still, even the chance at stretching his legs- it was worth the risk of angering the guards; especially because he wouldn't be acting directly. Better for someone else to take the risks on his behalf. They still might take out their frustrations on him, but it was less likely than if he tried himself. They would ignore the pleas of a prisoner, bu they might trust a fellow Clanner.

    That- the prospect of a walk, a real walk- was even better than the outdoor cage. He smiled, bright and sincere, and nodded vigorously. There was a better-than-even chance that this was some sort of trick, but what if it wasn't? What if he'd actually get to enjoy the great outdoors again? He was so tired of confined spaces- they always seemed to press in on him, threatening to crush the life from his body.

    He doubted there'd be an opportunity to escape- and, in any case, now was a bad time. He could see a handful of guards from this position already; no doubt he would be swarmed in an instant if he tried anything. Still, the chance to stretch his legs... it was suddenly not only good, but necessary. He needed to get out of this cage. "I'd love to go for a walk, Miss Belle," he said respectfully, trying (and failing) to keep the glee from his voice.

    Still, he kept a wary edge about him. This could be- probably was- a trick. Maybe they'd be ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Ruiners. Maybe she'd demand some impossible payment for her kindness. He had no way of knowing.

    Hypokrisis is so cool? He's almost like... an alien, or a faerie? Eerie, and intelligent, and not quite like the rest of us. It's really neat, and reading your posts with him improves my own muse, which, you know, ty for that. I feel like he's gonna end up one of those site-famous legends- he definitely deserves to be.