Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2022
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
”Fuck…” Baxter staggered a bit, grimacing at the sudden weariness that set in from a combination of emotional exhaustion and the bleeding from his arm. He hadn’t expected the injury to be this great from such a mere action. Whatever the wall was made of, the foundation was dangerous to recklessly bust through without thinking; especially when he hadn’t even entered his transformation.
But damn, did Gordon know exactly how to piss him off. Never did he expect himself to get set off so badly by a mate of all people, even considering the circumstances of the scenario as well. It was well within his reason and justification since he wouldn’t tolerate any harm coming to his mate nor any attempt to dishonor and strip oneself of their origins. Baxter bore a grudge against his people, yet he’d never think to take these cheek marks from him. These marks reminded him of who he was and what he’s achieved, and he never wants to forget how bold and independent enough he was to choose his war and transition into the title of lone wolf. Yet, running from his own blood would only take away the only thing he has: his existence.
There was a ambition he held close. It was to rebirth the Lupek into a greater civilization than it was now; a warmongering plague reaching across the land desperately to assert their way through any twisted method possible. Baxter wanted to lead it to greatness himself yet avoid the corruptive system it adopted; not to mention, he wanted to gut the alpha for what he did to him. The alpha made him into the lessest being possible within the tribe, leading to a lack of respect and acknowledgement towards him. Baxter was well aware of the actions of his whore-for-a-mother, and how he had been cheated out of becoming heir to alpha.
Baxter would claim the title of alpha, no matter what he had to do; return and slaughter for the status, or rebirth his own pack into a tribe of its own carrying on the mark of his people. However, with a male mate, he didn’t want to be the only alpha. There’s no way he could dethrone his own mate into inferiority by title; therefore, this future pack would be lead by two kings- two alphas.
At the moment, the shine of that ambition was glazed in dimness. It sounded like his mate had voided anything he said prior, instead stubbornly shutting his eyes to his suggestions and choosing to pursue his own pessimistic interpretation. The flame in him was teased once again, yet the flame did not grow and only smoldered at this point.
”You’re lucky I’m too tired to wring you the fuck out for the bullshit you’re spitting out your mouth,” he angrily said to him. Gordon’s choice of words mocked his life, essentially saying his life as a warrior was for nothing, proved nothing, and essentially was for naught. It was something a warrior never wanted to think or hear suggested due to the amount of effort they invested in their struggles.
Baxter’s brows knitted together in annoyance, and he stepped back from him in awe. Before him stood an alpha, supposedly, of their people- or rather, an ex alpha. Regardless, in his eyes, Gordon was beyond him in worth and status. Baxter was less than mud, and this man- who has immersed himself in dishonor and inconfidence, was beyond him. As infuriating as it was, he couldn’t help but feel defeated. The male’s head lowered in thought, and his teeth grinded against one another. Nothing existed of that flame now, and instead he was left with an emptiness.
”... so you were an alpha, huh? Yet you abandoned that life, despite having the power to lead your people and decide what is and what isn’t…” he murmured beneath his breath. Baxter didn’t have that chance. There was nothing for him, and he left for that. His mate had everything, but threw it all away and left. Somehow, that was demeaning in a way to him; especially that he didn’t even bother to call himself an alpha, and didn’t seem to have any wish to be one either. ”If only you knew what I’ve been through, what I’ve seen, what I’ve done. You wouldn’t think shit of yourself or your past.” he hissed at him lowly.
Baxter heard a whine, and looked over at his canine companions seemingly perturbed his wounds. Shaking his head, he turned and walked away from Gordon to retrieve his pelt, wrap it around him. ”... do what you want. Nothing I say gets through to you… I just wish you had more respect for yourself, and respect for us.” The male worked his way over to the glass door, intent on opening it, only to find the world shaking him off his balance and onto one knee. Lightheadedness finally set in as a result of blood loss. He was wondering when it’d come.
”Dammit… why couldn’t this morning just go smoothly?” he complained, trying to apply pressure on his gash with his hand. His companions, with their tail between their legs, scooted over to him carefully unsure whether he would snap at them or not; and delicately, they licked at his wounds. Of course, such a thing would do nothing for him with a injury like this, but it was clear they desired to treat him with tender care.
"Gordon... we need to talk about this... about us. I can't do it the way I am now, though..."
Gordon listened to his words but remained quiet. It wasn't until Baxter had stepped away from him that he figured out his words weren't helping but making things worse. He wanted Baxter to understand why he didn't view these tattoos as important as he would but it seemed that Baxter couldn't except his point of view. Maybe his upbringing wasn't nearly as bad but being told who you had to mate? How in the wold is that supposed to make you happy about your life? Even as an alpha, you were expected to keep up such traditions. He moved towards Baxter but paused as his mate spoke. "Perhaps not..." He agreed with Baxter, "But being in a tradition pack, doesn't give you much options. You get to lead but there are some things you don't get to choice and frankly I was tired of that life style." He didn't want to say that it was because his parents expected him to mate with a woman but frankly it was the biggest one, not getting to chose who to be with. He heard a whine and glanced at the wolves, before he could comment further Baxter had turned to walk away from him, grabbing his pelt in the process.
"Respect for us?" He asked, seeming to ponder it for a moment. "Your mistaking my annoyance for my past to mean that I'm not happy with my current life. "I wasn't happy before I left my pack and I honestly thought I couldn't have been happier but when I met you yesterday it was the best day of my life." He lifted his hand in the air before tightening his fist. "I don't need a pack to make me happy, just a mate and frankly I like this place." He watched Baxter move towards the balcony, he moved towards the closet before grabbing the first aid kit. He approached Baxter when he heard his comment he paused, "If that is what you wish." He answered, kneeling down next to him. "Let me help you." He opened the first aid, planning on apply the bactine pain relieving spray before planning on applying a bandage on his wounds.
Baxter shook his head at him insistently, hearing his misinterpretation of his words. Gordon had not seemed to catch on to what he meant exactly by lacking respect for them and their relationship. The male actually felt disrespected by his comment about honor, his attempt to self harm and his beration of himself. Not only did it insult his taste and appreciation for him, but it also defied responsibility over his safety, happiness and wellness as a mate.
”Dammit, that’s not what I mean Gordon… you should know that I’ve has sworn into the responsibility of protecting my mate and keeping them happy- and no, I won’t break that tradition,” he scolded him with a stable voice, not reaching high volumes as to conserve energy. Baxter was also feeling a little guilty for having recklessly slammed his mate into the wall, snapping at him completely and causing destruction in his home. ”I can’t keep you safe if you’re trying to fucking hurt yourself over something so fuckin’ stupid… and I want my mate to be confident, have pride for himself and respect himself. I didn’t mate with a bitch. If you’ve really moved on from your tribe, then stand tall like they’re beneath you at least- otherwise, you’re still wrapped around their finger.”
The words he spoke were true to a degree. Baxter himself had not recovered from his trauma, but he doesn’t regret or feel guilty over his decision to abandon his people. He knew they’d be fine without him, and he’d be more than better without the slander, the ugly mugs and experiencing pure atrocity. There was nothing for him there, no ability to crawl up into status. He had long already defamed at conception and even before. The male believed Gordon could do the exact same thing, but not as long as he let his past cause him so much resentment for himself.
Baxter squeezed his eyes shut, sensations flooding back into place. There was pain in his arm at last, now that all the adrenaline had subsided. Deep breaths fled from his mouth in an attempt to alleviate the pain and calm his frazzled, pain-bitten nerves. The native was a little off-put when his mate approached him with some sort of container, or case, and opened it to reveal a variety of boxes, tubes and such within. ”The hell’s that…?’ he thought to himself, not recognizing anything in the kit except for the gauze which was a medical tool used by his tribe to cover injuries.
His chest suddenly swelled with pride, hearing Gordon’s words. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to reel himself back a bit with a stubborn expression. ”I’m fine, this is nothing…” he said, as he was bleeding and woozy as a result of it. The male’s greater intuition was well aware that he was in need of medical assistance, which was why he had only leaned back slightly instead of attempting to completely avoid him; and allowed him to perform his treatment. Some sort of liquid had been spritzed onto his arm, making him flinch and hiss defensively in pain only to quickly feel that pain dissipate altogether and leave no sensation behind. ”Damn… what the hell is that stuff?” he wondered, while the male wrapped up his knuckles and arms tenderly.
”That’s some weird stuff you got there… I can only imagine how great it’d be if it were introduced to my tribe- or yours. ‘Prolly even turn the tide of the war…” he commented idly, attempting to reposition himself into an indian-style cross-legged seat on the floor. ”I think we need to talk about us, this mateship… because I feel like we have different views; and I ain’t gonna lie, I’m pretty fuckin’ frustrated. I don’t know how this works, I am just following tradition and instinct… and I just care so much. I never cared about anything but my goals before, but now I have one more thing- a person- to care about and… ” A cross between a groan and a growl left his maw. Clearly, he was not accustomed to relationship of any kind; even friendly.
Gordon couldn't help but smirk slightly, I know what he meant but I still think I'll try and tease him about it later, unless he calls me out. He thought to himself, sighing. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand tall, it was just that he knew as soon as he left, hell would be served if his pack bothered searching him out and finding him. "Have you never felt like you were born in the wrong place? This is home to me and they don't need alpha's here, though I wouldn't be against giving them one. Where I was born, tradition was the only thing I learned growing up. Tradition this, tradition that. I couldn't accept such traditions and in that processed, caused more problems then it is worth. If my pack searches me out, I won't be an alpha anymore, so why act all high and mighty about it?" As far as he was concerned, that damn tradition would always have him wrapped around its finger. He was never going to get freedom from it. "Whether my upbringing was worse or not, I can't say nor will I argue about it. I chose to leave and with that choice came consequences." It wasn't like his people would miss him, just find it offensive that their oh mighty heir had fled before giving them a new one.
In his books, his pack expected him as a sire spawn whether he could tell them what to do or not. Though he could attempt to change their tradition, it would likely be void because his packmates loved the traditional ways and trying to change it would have been viewed as offensive. He had advanced Baxter with the first aid, planning on tending to his wounds. He couldn't help but smirk when Baxter claimed he was fine. "Oh I'm sure you are." He answered in return, of course tending to his wounds wasn't an option, he planned on doing it even if he had to pin Baxter in his spot. Frankly the latter sounded like much more fun but to his surprise, Baxter had stayed still for him. "Just bactine pain relieving, or so the bottle says." He answered, not really focused on it. It came in handy when he got injuries though. He chuckled at Baxter's comment. "More like abuse it." He mumbled to himself, hoping despite their closeness that Baxter wouldn't hear it. He closed the first aid, planning on returning it when he heard Baxter speaking up. "One of those was making sure your mate is happy." He answered, yes he had been listening, just unsure of how to answer Baxter prior.
"Accepting ones views is a good way to start. I understand your disappointment in me, but I didn't come out here to be an alpha. I came out here to hide from my pack because I refused the role. Or some of it.... It really doesn't matter since it was in the past. If they find me, they won't view me as an alpha, frankly I think you'd be happier if they don't find me because I know I will be." He moved towards the cabinet to put the first aid back inside before closing it and returning to sitting on the floor across from Baxter. "For starters, I got to chose my mate. Doesn't that count as being happy, or am I missing the point of this relationship?" He honestly believed there wasn't anything wrong between them. Neither one was apart of a pack, Baxter liked his tattoos and respected his pride and honor, he disliked his tattoos and could care less about his pride and honor, though frankly adored Baxter and respected his views, he just couldn't bring himself to change his own views. "I won't try and self harm ever again. You have my word, but I don't have to stare at it either."
Baxter bit his lip. Tradition. Tradition and culture played hand in hand oftentimes, and yet often parted ways only to reunite again in some other way, shape and/or form. The Lupek valued tradition; however, even beyond tradition and culture, they favored power and hierarchy. As a result, the unfairness of their traditions had never been noticed; or foolish, restrictive traditions existed at a minimum. While there was discrimination and selectiveness in the pack, it was common for the sexes to engage in sexual interaction with their own; it was oftentimes done as a means to dominate or force another into submission disgracefully. It was barbaric, but nonetheless apart of their culture; which Baxter personally did not adopt.
”Tsk, no wonder we’re winning the war,” he commented bluntly to his claim on tradition, knowing that power trumps tradition in any case. If he was correct in his assessment, Gordon’s tribe was not as war-like nor bent on power as his was. ”You will be an alpha though, and don’t you dare say otherwise. You are one to me and that should be enough.”
”Bact-... pain relieving, fuckin’ what? That’s incredible. Hell, my tribe’s already full of relentless killers with no sense of physical pain in the heat of battle… with that, we’d be unstoppable,” and as he said that, he lowered his eyes realizing how fondly he spoke. Baxter did not care for his tribe anymore and yet he still acknowledged their power; both infamy and reputation indiscriminately. There was no denying how successful the Lupek were.
Baxter gave him a troubled look at his suggestion with making him happy. One of his weakest abilities was acceptance of others’ views due to how irrational and loyal his people were to their own ideals, traditions and behaviors. The stubbornness ran in the blood, and it’d take a lot of work for him to work out of it. Now that the male mentioned it, he recalled their peoples being nearly opposite in how they prosper and in views which is likely why they are currently warring… and also why he and Gordon are having this discussion at the moment, albeit poorly.
”Dammit… it’s hard to just ‘accept’ views that sound totally fucking stupid…” he censorlessly spoke, before tugging his bottom lip with his top row of teeth, offering a slightly apologetic look. ”Sorry… but really, it ain’t easy. At least, for some reason, it isn’t for me… I can try I guess.” After a few moments, he turned to him abruptly, briefly startling the canines around them from the sudden action. ”But you will be alpha with me. It’s a stupid fucking dream, I know it’s prolly pathetic as shit to you and it’ll be a difficult thing to do… but I want my own pack- and I want you to lead it alongside me as equals. I won’t have my mate be inferior to me.”
Roughly, he grabbed his shoulders and made eye contact with him. Baxter’s eyes were twitching and wavering with a dense hesitance. Despite this, he appeared he was desperately attempting to convey a pleading emotion. ”I don’t know this place like you do… you’re all I have aside from my small pack here”-he spared a hand to pat one of them on their head to their delight-”so I need to learn more about this weird ass place of yours… that way I can settle here, and we can start making our mark… this isn’t just a life goal, babe. This is my dream. This is reclaiming a destiny that was taken from me- because I’m a half-breed and… other things…” he said, growing quiet after that.
”You’re damn right you’ll never try to hurt yourself again. I will put another fuckin’ hole in your wall-” he looked back at the wall, seeing how caved in and fissured it was combined with the huge hole from his arm. ”... yeah, also my bad. Shit…” he murmured, pushing himself up to a stand and stumbling. The lightheadedness was still there, and he quickly made himself over to the couch and let himself collapse onto it.
Gordon shrugged his shoulders at Baxter's comment. He hadn't thought about the war, choosing to look ahead when he fled from his pack. It didn't matter who won the war anymore since there were so far away from him and he chose not to let it affect his life any further. He sighed when Baxter told him that he was going to be an alpha and that he shouldn't argue about it. He couldn't help but smirk slightly when Baxter attempted to repeat his words on what the spray was called. He was just so adorable for somebody so naive to this area. "I hadn't thought about the war since the conversation was brought up, so I'm not going to let it bother me." He answered, not wanting Baxter to worry about it. Despite trying to convince him that he had shoved the past behind them and hated both tribes, it seemed that Baxter still might have thought about them from time to time. That would be his business though, as far as he was concerned, he only needed to know if Baxter wanted to rant to him about it. He suggested how Baxter could make him happy, though he wasn't sure how well he was taking it despite his words.
"Alright." He agreed, not wishing to argue about it. "But I'm not doing it because of a desire of wants, I'm doing it because that is what you want." He answered, not caring about the role. "Though about that street fighting, I still want to do it without the worry that you'll severely injury or kill a person or more. I don't do it for the sake of injury, it relives stress and brings money in. Without it, I'm nothing." He had urges, street fighting helped with his desire to fight. Baxter had grabbed his shoulders just after he had sat back down. He listened to his words, about ready to suggest shopping as to blend in before Baxter admitted to being a half breed. He had heard about them but he hadn't met what before. "What do you mean by half breed?" He asked, curious because Baxter didn't appear like a half breed to him. "And I think shopping for starters, so that you blend in. I mean if you really badly want something similar that maybe a dress or skirt would suit you better." He would show him exactly what he meant as soon as they left to go shopping.
He had promised that he wouldn't ever try and hurt himself again. He planned on keeping that promise, intending to buy shirts as the old ones wore out so that he wouldn't be walking around where his tattoos were visible. Just as he would avoid as much as possible, shifting into his feral form ever again. He smirked when Baxter said his bad on the wall. "It is easy to fix, don't worry about it." He answered, watching as Baxter stood up and moved to collapse on the couch. He reached over to pick up the blanket before slowly standing up. He would then carefully place the blanket on top of him. "Rest up. I'm going to take a shower." He whispered before moving towards the bathroom.
The biggest smile appeared on Baxter’s face when Gordon had finally agreed to become alpha alongside him. It was comparable to that of a child’s smile upon receiving a toy on Christmas morning. At last, he heard what he wanted; his mate to accept his terms and agree to becoming an alpha alongside him in the future. Eagerly, Baxter grabbed at his hands and squeezed them. However, the second part he included came and went, defeating his delight noticeably as his smile seemed to dim in brilliance. The part about the street fighting had made it worse, erasing his smile entirely and replacing it with annoyance.
”So I gotta sit by while my mate gets his ass potentially kicked?” he asked him, feeling disrespected by this. It expressed little faith in Gordon’s ability to protect himself, but Baxter was accustomed to the “alpha of the mateship” role where he’d protect the other at all costs. Essentially, the tradition of protecting the mate would be defaced from this agreement. Baxter was weary of arguing though, and weary from other factors as well… like having just lost a lot of blood and messied the floor with it. ”Ugh… the fuck ever… fine, do your damn street fighting thing whatever the hell it is. If they leave marks on you though, they won’t get away unharmed though. I’m the only one that leaves any marks on you- not bruises, but bite marks..” he established sternly, not showing any signs of going back on that one.
The half-breed inquiry caught him off guard, and he widened his eyes. ”Shit… he didn’t realize I was a half-breed?” he thought to himself in awe. Surely the male should have smelled it on him, then again he likely did not encounter half-breeds often with how rare they were even in among the native peoples due to their strict desire to keep mating within the pack. With the exception of selective lone wolves introduced to their numbers, of course. This was often under strict and close supervision though.
Baxter often forgot he was a half-breed since he had experienced war and made his mark as a mightily formidable combatant on the battlefield. His genetics were completely forgotten once he deserted the front line as a lone wolf since no one was around to criticize him and call him a “bastard pup”. Being reminded now worried him, since before him was a former alpha that he had already established had been an actual lycanthrope between the two of them. Hell… in Baxter’s oppressive, pessimistic subconscious, Gordon was the one meant to be the alpha male between them; not both of them.
”You must be deaf on a whole other level…” he tried to play it off bluntly. ”I didn’t mention any damn thing about “half-breed”. I said “halfi”, it’s a phrase specifically spoken by my people.”
After that, he left it alone and turned his head away stubbornly to show he would speak no further on the subject. Further speaking about it would be considered null and void, ignored. Baxter discontinued this ignoring when the male mentioned their departure from the room, ”Shower? What’s that?” he asked suddenly, sitting up so fast his head was thrown for a light and dizzy loop. ”Is it dangerous? Where are you off now?? The male clearly didn’t like being left alone. Even if his canine companions were here, calm and conscious, Baxter preferred the company of his mate over any soul. There was a habitual, and genetic, possessiveness and clinginess to him he had to loosen.
Gordon couldn't help but find Baxter's face expression somewhat amusing when it had gone from a smile to annoyance just like that. "So in other words, you'll stay down so long as my ass isn't kicked." He grins before adding, "I don't lose." It was true, he normally won his fights, there were only sometimes when he'd lose. "As long as they don't retire early or die, that is fine. View it like this, the point is to have fun. If it is no longer fun, you went over board." He tried explaining it to him. "This isn't like our old home, nobody is going to injury to the point of attempting death. When you see it, you'll come to realize it isn't so bad."
He had asked Baxter a question because he had mentioned being a half breed. He rolled his eyes at the comment before grinning. "I know what I heard and when you mention it again, I'll keep asking till you explain." He would lean closer to kiss Baxter on the cheek before watching him move to the couch. He too would stand before informing Baxter that he'd be leaving to take a shower. He chuckled when Baxter had shot up from the couch so fast. "Only one way to find out." He'd tease before moving towards the bathroom, knowing Baxter was sure to likely follow after him.
It felt as though a hand had been clasping around his heart the moment Gordon went on about his slip-of-the-tongue. Clearly, the man wouldn’t leave it alone- especially now being closely associated with Baxter. One’s business was the other’s business, but this was the business that the warrior felt was his and his alone; therefore no one else’s due to how much of a burden it was weighed upon him, bearing blood of such an exclusive people.
Even as his mate had been walking away to who knows where, Baxter had remained stubbornly quiet with his arms folded and sharp nose in the other direction. He did not want to risk further interrogation on his slip-up earlier nor about further detail on the subject due to the sensitive nature of it. As far as he cared, he was born with the blood of the Lupek, and he was a warrior who dominated the battlefield all the same. Among the last things he wanted was to be criticized for being a hybrid between a pure-blooded lupek and a foreign, human scandal.
Then, the walls audibly sprung to life with the sound of running water through the pipes, startling the male enough for him to jump up and- immediately thinking of Gordon’s wellbeing- had beelined it towards the backhalls to reunite with his significant other. With the man not in sight, he had simply followed his scent with his perceptively keen nose, and shortly found him in the strange-looking room referred to as the “bathroom”. ”What are you doing in here anyway- and again, what the hell is a shower?” he demanded once more paranoically.
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