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 2024
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.
Since the wonderful members of TDOM enjoy the site enough to play around on it, this thread is to assist with the site's tidying! Functionality is important and we want to make the site functional even if its activity will be minimal at best!
A chilly spring's breeze embraced those wandering the streets of Lorsette on a late afternoon. The sun was gradually falling from its peak amidst the skies above. A ball of light in a sea of azure dotted with white clouds acting as large boats. Shade occasionally consumed the earth as the wispy white splotches blocked out the sunlight. People still wandered the streets, accomplishing their shopping in preparation for the evening. Through the sidewalks, an off-duty hero wondered the concrete pathways of Lorsette.
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Despite his TRS uniform's absence, the ancient warrior's sword was positioned on his left hip. Should danger arise, his hand shalt, not quiver, in preparation to rescue those from the wrath of the Assembly. Those monstrous heathens always slithered through the streets of Lorsette to his dismay. Unfortunately, this afternoon the blue-haired sword wielder, Fritz Jacobs, was not searching for the dastardly organization. As expected of all working-class citizens, holidays would be thrust upon him and he would begrudgingly accept.
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Holiday time was frequently spent playing music in the basement of his small home, however, he became stir crazy. Hours spent trapped inside those walls doing exercise routines or playing the smooth keys of a piano made him feel trapped. Thus, the warrior dawned his sword and decided on a long walk through Lorsette. Ending up in the northern section of the troubled city was hardly a choice, but rather, an exploration. Frequently, Fritz stuck to the more populated locations or the perilous outskirts hunting down terrors or Assembly of Phantoms members.
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Meanwhile, the northern area was usually an untouched gem with some sorrowful exceptions. A peacefulness consumed the atmosphere near the school district. The quiet, the ease and pleasant chatter of school kids walking to their homes. Compared to the other areas of Lorsette, the northern area was considerably more tranquil. Deep breaths of precious air were taken as Fritz strolled the sidewalks, earning the occasional curious glance. The ancient warrior possessed his sword, however, to accompany the peculiar characteristics were old-style linens and trousers.
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A pale, light beige shirt different in make covered his muscular, albeit, maimed torso, meanwhile, a pair of medieval, black rider's trousers were pulled over his bed. In sync with his sword were thick, black combat boots, laces double-knotted; he rarely purchased other pairs of shoes. He was somewhat of a peculiar sight, not a complete sore thumb amidst the modernly clothed people, but enough to warrant a momentary glance over. Alas, the blue-haired TRS hunter was uninhibited over curious glances and subtle notes of bewilderment on others' visages.
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Escape from the same walls of his small home was all he sought on that May afternoon. As he walked passed the school, he rounded a corner, trained ears searching for noise amidst the giddy children wandering. In an automatic loop, his sapphire hues surveyed the area, his on-duty instincts permanently imprinted in his brain. If there was danger, he was trained to discover and eliminate it... and those actions were etched into the creases of his brain forevermore. Years as a guard, centuries as a mercenary and even more as a hunter...
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He was designed for combat, morals enforcing him to become a hero all those years ago... On an eve where smoke burned inside his nostrils, ragged coughs escaped his mouth as he fought through the burning in his lungs. Every fibre of his being screaming to fight and defend that most precious to him... until he failed.
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Tags: @irgrischamp55 [break] Notes: I made the thread! I hope this works. c:
[attr="class","youfallbot2"]WHO WANTS TO BE A HERO
Itsumo was weary of tonight. Not because it was his first night as a "hero". Or because he thought he couldn't handle himself in a fight. But it was this feeling that Itsumo had been having recently. It was a feeling of power, a feeling of strength, a feeling that wasn't his. It started when he first held the sword that had came with the armor. As soon as he held it, the feeling had run over him. It filled his arms with strength, his body with power, but it also messed with his head. It gave him this feeling of extreme aggressiveness, like he wanted to tear someone in half. Itsumo had almost immediately thrown the sword to the ground, and felt like vomiting, which he couldn't even do. After about a hour, Itsumo had returned completely to his senses. He hadn't picked up the sword since that day, well, not until tonight. Ever since then, Itsumo had felt different in a way, he felt much older...like he was much more experienced in life. His senses where better, like nothing would sneak up on him anymore, and he could see things from much farther away. But it also felt...foreign. Like something else was in the armor with him, not a person, but...something. Tonight was the first night Itsumo had held the sword since that incident.
Itsumo had carefully strapped the sword to his back, careful to avoid the hilt. He was currently walking down a unfamiliar street somewhere in the Northern district. Thunk, Thunk, Thunk. His feet echoed as they hit the concrete. People moved from Itsumos path, obviously a little frightened from his imposing figure. "Another TRS?" Someone whispered to their friend as they moved around him. TRS? Itsumo wasn't sure what they meant. He of course knew who they were, but had heard mixed reviews about how "good" they are. He himself didn't really have an opinion, he didn't know any points from either sides of the argument. Itsumo placed his hand on his stomach. He could feel the strength flowing through him, and the unfamiliar presence in there too. He still hadn't put his finger on what it was, or why it was trying to take over Itsumo. He looked up again. He noticed a sign that signaled that a school was up ahead. He turned a corner when he felt something pass over him. A thought that wasn't his own pierced his mind. Someone senses you. The suit acted on instinct, reaching up, grabbing the sword, and pulling it free. The feeling happened almost immediately, strength pouring into Itsumo, aggressiveness flooding his body, and his mind being torn apart. Itsumo tried to let go of the sword, but his fists were tightly closed, gripping the hilt intensely. Pain and anger was all Itsumo felt, like his mind was being torn to pieces. Why was this happening? Itsumo thought. The answer was almost immediate. It was the same voice as before, the one that told him that he was being sensed. This suits strength is worthy only to a true hero. You are not a true hero. Leave. Itsumos mind was only pain. It felt like he was being mentally torn to shreds. However Itsumo still somehow figured out what was happening through the pain. It was simple. The real reason nobody was able to dawn the armor. It would only allow a true hero to wear it, and if you where not a true hero, then it would make you leave. It would overflow the armor with strength, and if a person was wearing the armor, it would most likely break their body in seconds. However, since he had no body to break, the armor was breaking his mind.
Itsumo had no more control over his body, for he was in too much pain. The red armors eyes grew a bright white, and it kneeled silently. It stayed kneeled for minute, and then stood, its eyes filled with glowing anger. With one motion, the armor planted a foot forward, cracking nearly the entire sidewalk where it stood, and let out a monsterous bellow. The roar caused houses to shake, birds to fly away, and the people nearby to feel a primal fear. OCC: If you didn't get whats going on, basically, the armor and sword was made by Enki to only allow true heroes to wear and use its strength. If you were not worthy, then it would overflow itself with strength, which would be to much for someone to handle, and it would break their body and force them out the armor. However, since Itsumo has no body to break, it is shattering his mind, and the since he has no more control over the armor, it is going berserk. Btw, the Someone Senses you, was the armor instinctively feeling that Fritz could "sense" him. Chibi Magician
Wailing screams and distant victory chants while rope bitterly bit into the delicate skin around his wrist and ankles. A gradual accumulation of blood, warm and belonging to him slithered from his wrists, being consumed by braided strands. Bruises covered his body as he struggled against the bindings, craving freedom for the sole purpose of saving any of the fortunate. Another survivor amidst the burning rumble perhaps?! But further and further they took him... and little did he know, he was the only one left...
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Melancholic memories were inevitable for a hero of Fritz's age. For boundless years, his fingers curled around his sword as he fought against merciless bandits or raiders. He thought of himself as a hero and among the best fighters of his village, but that day? He failed them... Each swing of his sword cut down a single man in an army of swarming raiders. His pathetic strength as a mere human weighed hardly a coin in comparison to the raiders with their abilities. They were destined to be defeated on that evening...
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Destined to have their homes torched and people slaughtered... All because he humiliated them by conquering a single man in a duel... They should have known they would grow angered of honouring a duel against a mere magicless human. Returning to Earth was never Fritz's decision, yet, here he stood, walking down the sidewalks of Lorsette. A similar circumstance of protecting his home presented to him upon settling into the danger-ridden city. An ancient relic of a hero who fought against the endless strife of time's challenges to be alive.
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There were plenty of grand warriors lost in the desert of time's sands, never to be located and some even not remembered. Burdened by his thoughts, Fritz exhaled a lengthy sigh, eyes closing as his right hand moved towards his face. Fingers swept into his hair, the palm of his hand stationed on his forehead. A deep breath entered his lungs, filling them before being repeated by another long release of bated breath. Slowly, his eyes opened, hand leaving his forehead as he decided to have a brief break from his walk.
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With the thought inside his mind, Fritz surveyed the area, noticing the playground surrounded by a chainlink fence taller than him. Arms were crossed as the blue-haired man turned his back to it, leaning against the cold chainlink fence as they pressed against the cloth of his shirt. Fortunately, his skin would be mostly spared from the chills of the metal. Wrapped around his wrist was a temperature regulating bracelet. A useful charm designed to stave away frigid winds or balmy summer sunlight. While it failed to eliminate every shred of cold, it assisted in suppressing it enough.
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The blue-haired reaper glanced towards the azure skies above, watching as clouds passed by in their lazy motions. Confused children passed him, planning on hurrying home for their precious personal time spent in enjoyment or hastily finishing homework. For the most part, the ancient warrior ignored them, staring towards the sky, forcing his breath to remain even. Around him, people spoke, their words unheard by the reaper. The distant sounds of loud footsteps echoed his way, however, Fritz ignored the noises.
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There were no screams, therefore, the reaper figured everything was alright for the time being. Then, arrived something peculiar, a sense. He stiffened at the strange and sudden sensation as his body began sensing something. A person... but why were these sensations arriving to him? From his recollection, spirits were the only creatures with those abilities, not reapers. The ancient warrior pushed off the fence, the sounds of rattling linking chains filling his ears. Concern filled the pits of the reapers stomach as he took hesitant steps forward.
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The sounds of panicked civilians captured the ancient warrior’s attention, his sapphire eyes locking on them. Some grabbed their children, ushering them away while proclaiming ‘TERROR’ without much thought. Alas, the mere word prompted Fritz’s hand to act, his right hand darting across to his left hips. Fingers curled around the handle of his broadsword, tight to the point his knuckles turned pale. With the echo of a soft shing, the weapon exited his sheath. The sword was swiped to his side, remaining extended as he hurried towards the location the frightened citizens fled.
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As he approached, the ground abruptly shook, unbalancing Fritz, however, the warrior caught himself with his hand. The man’s eyes narrowed, searching for the creature responsible. A war cry bellowed from something just beyond the swarming people hastily escaping. Slowly, he rose, listening to shouts of people mentioning a mutant type of darkness... however... the moment the blue-haired man’s eyes locked on the creature, he knew otherwise. Surprise flickered in his blue hues as the reaper realized what stood beyond him.
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A ruby-coloured suit stood there, eyes glowing and a massive sword clenched in his hands. Distant memories entered Fritz’s mind as he stared at something once lost to the sands of time. Rowan’s armour, a creation of Enki during the middle of the war. Long after the blue-haired hero’s death, the praised man worked towards saving others. Alas, in the end, the hero transformed into a monster, forcing himself on his daughter... While Fritz never met the hero, he heard the legends and witnessed drawn portrayals of Rowan.
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Alas, an interaction never existed... nonetheless he heard about the man's demise and the armour being cast into the depths. Yet, here it stood, prepared for a duel and being claimed as a mutant-type terror, which was unlikely. The hero's eyes narrowed as he watched the suit of armour, believing the man turned monster came back from death. Sword in hand, Fritz approached senses growing as he prepared for combat. While the reaper was not on duty, he considered it his duty to defend others from danger, especially these questionable situations.
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He was clueless about what Rowan would accomplish, however, as a man willing to sacrifice everything to preserve the lives of others, he refused to back down. The reaper heard the legends of his strength, the crumbled concrete around the armour's feet making it obvious... Powerful strength was nothing to doubt, therefore, the hunter planned on being cautious about the situation. Since should he die early, the armoured man would be left to demolish everyone. Adrenaline roamed Fritz veins as he stood tall, prepared to enter combat in the name of saving others.
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Tags: @irgrischamp55 [break] Notes: I will mention, Fritz isn't on duty, so he is not in uniform, however, I am fine with someone maybe recognizing him without it since Fritz is an old hunter or say another TRS passed.
[attr="class","youfallbot2"]WHO WANTS TO BE A HERO
Inside Itsumo's Mind Itsumo watched through his eyes in pain as his body destroyed the sidewalk. He felt like his mind was being turned to mush and put through a shredder at the same time. All he felt was blinding pain, until he didn't. Silence enveloped his mind and a strange peace came over him. He opened his eyes. Where was he? He was no longer on the street near the school district, in fact, he wasn't anywhere he's been before. He was in a grass field surrounded by trees, and...was a human again? He looked at his hands, they were wet and large from the grasses dew. They seemed strange, where his hands always this gruff and large? He looked up again, and at a closer look, he saw something in the distance. He stood up, and with a closer look, he saw that it was a village. Itsumo brushed himself off. He knew that he should be worrying about something, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't even remember what he was so worried about...something to do with armor? Itsumo shook his head and took a step forward. He nearly immediately fell down. It felt like he hadn't walked in years, his legs felt like jelly.
It took about ten minutes, but after some practice, his legs became easier to move. He took another hesitant step, then another, then another. He was walking! Itsumo walked towards the village with a smile. He kept having this feeling like he was forgetting something, but he didn't know what. When he arrived at the village, the people didn't even give him a second glance. Itsumo ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He walked about the village for about a hour. It was relatively large, with a blacksmith and market, and a large village square. It wasn't a modern village, (Though he couldn't exactly put a finger on what that meant), but a place filled with wood and clay houses. The guards that roamed the town wielded iron weapons and armor, and the blacksmith had iron weapons on display at the front of his shop. Itsumo sat on a stone bench in the middle of the town square. He yawned and stretched out, wiping his eyes. He laid out and closed his eyes, scratching his face. He laid there for about 5 minutes, and was on the verge of falling asleep, when he felt a tap on his face.
When he opened his eyes, a little girl stood before him, giving him a judgemental gaze. "Are you homeless?" She asked in a high pitched voice. Itsumo was caught off guard by the bluntness of the question, but then chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose I am." He answered with a smile. She gave him a sour look and shook her head. "You shouldn't be lazy. If you don't want to be homeless, get a job."She said, wagging a chubby finger. Itsumo smiled. Now aren't you one opinionated little girl? You shouldn't assume I'm homeless because I'm lazy. I'm homeless because I just arrived at the village." She gave him a interested look. "New? We haven't had anyone new lately, since we live so close to where a lot of the battles have been taking place." It was Itsumo's turn to give the girl an interested look. "Battles? What battles?" Itsumo asked. The girl gave him a grin. "Are you stupid or what mister? The battles of the war! Our village is close to where a lot of those battles have been taking place, and people are scared to move here. Even though our village priests say we have the protection of Enki." She crossed her arms. "Follow me mister. It's cold out here, and I like how dumb you are." She began to walk away, looking back to see if he was behind her. Itsumo sighed and got up, trailing behind her. This is one mean little girl. He thought to himself.
Itsumo followed the girl through the intertwining streets of the town, wondering where the where going. She suddenly stopped at a small house, knocking on the door. A large woman answered, who must've been the girls mother. "Mommy, I found this dumb homeless man laying a stone. Can we keep him?" Itsumo chuckled. What was he, some lost puppy? The girls mother looked him up and down. "Maybe we can feed him some supper." She answered seriously. She moved out of the may of the doorway, letting the girl and Itsumo enter the house. It smelled of bread and carrots, and had a strangely homely feel. The large woman gripped him by his shoulders and moved him to a dining room, forcefully sitting him down into a chair. "Food will come out in a moment. We eat when the whole family is here. My husband will be home soon. Do nothing but sit redhead" She gave him a threatening look and walked out the room, probably into the kitchen. Redhead? Did he have red hair? He couldn't recall... The little girl sat at an empty seat, sticking her tounge out at him. He returned the childish gesture. Just then, a girl that seemed in her 20's walked into the room, carrying what appeared to be a scroll. Itsumo gave her a look, and she returned it. Man...she is pretty. Itsumo thought to himself. His prolonged stare caused her to blush and avert her eyes, sitting down and looking at her lap. When Itsumo blushed as well, and the little girl fake gagged. After about a minute, he heard a light knock on the door, and then the heavy footsteps of the woman walking towards it. He heard the door open, and a muffled talk. A second later, a small man walked into the room, he was short and wore large circular glasses. And when their eyes met, and the little man almost dropped the things he was carrying. He stuttered for a couple seconds, before being able to say the thing he was trying to say.
"A-Are you Rowan? Rowan the Strongman?"
In the Northern District The armor looked forward. What was this? A human was approaching him? The human was blue-haired and wielded a blade. Blue hair, blue hair, blue hair, red hair. Red hair? Rowan? The armor looked back at the human before him. It released a spine-chilling metallic voice. "Rowan? Is that you? Why...why did you leave me behind? You said that I would be your partner forever. But then, but then, YOU LEFT ME! The glowing white "tears" streaming down his metal face. “Why? Why did you leave me?” The suit roared again and launched forward. It swung at the human standing before him with the force of a rhino charge. “Why?”Chibi Magician HA! HA! HA! Once again defeated Chibi!! Prepare for battle! Itsumo obviously used enhanced strength for that punch.
Shrill screams filled the air as panicked people fled from the scene. Mothers and fathers scooping their precious children into a protective embrace before sprinting down the sidewalks. Distant teachers called for children and parents to seek shelter within the walls of the school. Unfortunately, Fritz already guessed the havoc-wreaking disgraced hero could break through the confines of a meagre brick wall. The crumbled street was a testament to the creature's undeniable strength and considering the clad of red armour, ill-effects would be minimal.
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Adrenaline mingled with the blood flowing heavily through Fritz's veins, intermingling and preparing him for a difficult fight ahead of him. The echoes of panic, it made his heart beat faster as his muscles grew tense. Memories of his past repeated in his mind, the evening they arrived. The sounds of squealing mothers melancholically sobbing for their children until the merciless executioner's axe parted them from their mortal bodies. The screams of victims burning and suffering beneath the maniacal decisions made by troops motivated by greed and embarrassment.
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One breath in, a long exhale. Fingers curled tighter around the broadsword in his hands, a trusted friend. Two-thousand-years he spent repaying for failing his village. Fulfilling his life after the bitter news of a curse enforcing a return to the twisted world of reality. Greyscale was traded for the colourful, vibrance and cruel darkness of a dimension riddled with misfortune and war. Not by choice did Fritz return, however, by choice he decided to devote his life to rescuing others from injustice.
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Vile choices of villainous monsters kept Fritz standing against those who plot to destroy the innocent. Heroics were something the blue-haired warrior vowed himself to. Not the moral codes of medieval chivalry or any grandiose concept. Everything the ancient reaper followed consisted of his personal moral codes accompanied by the overwhelming desire to assist the innocent individuals who required it. For everybody he lost centuries ago, he would stand against the man opposing him and hold in his heart the heroic code he granted himself.
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Tales of Rowan's strength orbited through his mind. Undoubtedly, an incorrect move would potentially result in broken bones. The reaper would be required to act fleet-footed and weave around those hefty blows until the armoured man tired. There were some similarities in this fight to battling a brute-type terror. Once everybody retreated to safety, an eerie silence settled over the future battlefield. The scarred hands of the reaper remained tightly clasped around his sword, sapphire eyes locked on the enemy in preparation.
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Their duel would begin and somebody would be left standing or perhaps neither should it become dangerous enough. Undoubtedly, though, Fritz would hear Vashti's displeasures about him battling against a weighty suit of armour with, theoretically, a literal legend hidden beneath the ruby-coloured armour. Fright chased her whenever Fritz accomplished these reckless tasks, relentless like a starving wolf. The brunette always worried, and despite their disagreements about whether they were tied by the mystic strings of soulmates, she stood beside him.
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Before he became acquainted with Vashti, Fritz was a wandering hunter, hardly caring about his health and well-being. While most of those traits proved prominent over the centuries he knew Vashti, he attempted to lower his ignorant choices. The woman worked two jobs, the least he could accomplish was soothing her endless frets over him... and simultaneously limiting hours spent hearing her lectures. Alas, what was he to do when there were limited options provided? When there was nobody else willing to defend others from the sword of a monstrous beast? One with tales of a hero fallen from Enki's divine path?
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From a hero transformed into the monsters he fought. Into the person, he was destined to defend others from. A monster hungry for lust and abuse without a shred of mercy remaining in his soul. Innocent shattered, leaving the hollowed shell of a man. A malicious criminal, moralless and evil. It was a saddening sight, however, sorrows of losing a man capable of defending many would fail to dampen Fritz's soul. He swore upon himself a duty, and he would be damned if he failed again; literally and figuratively.
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Death meant being cast away into the endless void, the unknown realm for shattered swords. Therefore, he would be expected to play this twisted roulette of whether he would survive. Prayers of his skill possessing enough power entered Fritz's mind as he equalized his breathing, thoughts going a million miles per hour. As any warrior would, he concerned himself with the impending fight.
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Failure meant casualties, one potentially being his life should Fritz prove to fall into recklessness. Even breaths were accomplished in an attempt to maintain calm nerves. Years of fighting, it kept him steely against the anxieties of battle, however, he never got used to it. If anything, he grew numb to the effects of fighting having been involved in the War of Traitors and been a mercenary for years longer. A complete adjustment would mean there would be no mercy remaining in his heart... and he refused to become similar to the disgraced Rowan.
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A moment of silence presided over the battlefield as the suit of red armour with haunting glowing eyes stared at him. A breeze drifted through, rustling trees. People hid behind their chosen cover, praying their lives would be spared on this frightful day. The softest chatter of people on phones, reporting the incident narrowly reached Fritz's ears, his lack of hunter's uniform persuading people to inform the TRS. At some point, the backup would arrive, however, when was an entirely different question. In a battle, any second could result in death, especially in an ill-favouring one.
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The reaper expected an attack to be launched, but instead, a voice echoed from the depths of the suit. Metallic and disconcerting for anybody in the area. It reminded him of the soft grinding of gears mingled with crushed metal. An accusation was created was made about Fritz's identity, resulting in a subtle raise of his brow... He was not the centuries-old disgraced hero the red-coloured armour spoke of... In fact, Fritz's hair would be considered a direct opposite colour compared to the infamous Rowan.
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The inquiries stated in the armour's chilling voice altered the original theory in Fritz's head... This was not Rowan the Strongman hidden beneath the layers of metal coating... No, this was something else. Although, it failed to explain the suit's reanimation... Armour would require a human vessel to accomplish its plans, would it not? Or was some twisted breed of terror being held hostage inside the suit. From the glowing white eyes began a trickling of 'tears' running over the protective shield of the armour.
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The suit was upset about its abandonment? Was it unaware of the heinous crimes committed by its previous owner?! The concept was peculiar and unexpected given the circumstances. Anger shortly flared inside the armoured giant as a misconception was established by the frightful creature. A roar bellowed from the armour as he launched forward, sword drawn and prepared to accomplish a verticle swing. The blue-haired hunter wasted no time diving away, accomplishing a roll as he landed. He steadied himself in a crouching position, sapphire hues locked on his opponent.
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The battle had begun!
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The reaper rose from his position, eyes shifting into their soul vision mode as he stepped back. As somebody with lesser strength, Fritz would be required to air on the side of caution. The warrior kept stepping back, eyes searching for the obvious signs of a terror... but there was nothing... Those creatures lacked a soul, but somewhere inside the chest plate, a soul blazed. Eyes widened as Fritz reached a conclusion about the questionable situation. Somebody was trapped inside Rowan's ancient suit of armour.
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Would attacking them bring about pain? Potentially... Therefore, Fritz discovered himself in a situation of desperation... If the individual was used as a catalyst for the suit was unable to control himself, he could murder an innocent... or alternatively, this could be a large facade designed to make the helpless die beneath the vicious Zeredah. Neither option sounded pleasant, however, Fritz held an objective... To try and reason with or immobilize the suit to avoid damaging the soul within.
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With narrowed eyes he stared at the red suit, fingers clenching his sword hard while blood bulleted through his chest. This would be a risky situation.
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"I am not Rowan the Strongman. I'm Fritz Jacobs, I was a mercenary through the War of Traitors. If you put down your weapon, I would be willing to talk," Fritz offered, calling to the suit.
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In the warrior's shout, he offered no knowledge about the suit being left to its lonesome. The last thing the blue-haired reaper desired was to infuriate the red armour further, although, he was uncertain if that was a possibility... If the armour was sold on the ancient hunter being Rowan the Strongman, then everything would boil down to a fight. Fritz steeled himself for either option the prehistoric armour chose. Should the battle wage on? Then the blue-haired reaper would have his work cut out for him stalling the suit from killing him.
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This morning, things were supposed to be relaxing, alas, danger always seemed to follow Fritz. Complaints would not be registered though as he became high off the fuel of adrenaline. Quickly, he adjusted his sword, handle down and blade pointed diagonally to defend his chest. He was uncertain if his broadsword would hold up against a direct attack, however, he hoped the sturdiness charms would assist in making it last longer. Unfortunately, Rowan was labelled 'the strongman' for nothing. Steady breaths were taken as Fritz prepared himself for the worse.
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Hastily, the reaper's eyes combed through the area, hoping there would be something capable of aiding in his fight. If the circumstances worsened, the trained hunter hoped he could persuade Rowan's armour to follow him into the depths of the forest. An isolated area would be needed should Fritz be required to outlast this menacing creature in a potentially brutal fight.
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Tags: @irgrischamp55 [break] Notes: Word count fight! XD
[attr="class","youfallbot2"]WHO WANTS TO BE A HERO
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The skin is created by Wolf of Adoxography and Gangnam Style. The thread and conversation remodels are by Kagney. The Strange Reality board list, Heal My Soul info center, I Remember Now mini profile and Electric Requiem profile remodel is made by Pharoah Leap. The Who's That Member member list remodel was made by Tictactoe. The Cbox.ws Shoutbox remodel was made by Trinity Blair. All templates used for claims, information sheets, applications, etc are credited to their owners; credits for these can be found in the threads the templates are use on. Images that are used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners, however, they have been edited by Zac with a few being edited by Chibi Magician. The plot, rules and various other information pieces for The Duality of Man are written by Chibi Magician with the assistence of her co-admins, Finnegan and Dremulf, alongside other unlisted people who were kind enough to give their input. The TRS, AP and face claim were all created by Fleur for specifically the use of TDOM. All plugins used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners. The templates my members use are credited to their maker, if you find a template that belongs to you, but is uncredited, please speak to Chibi Magician or the member themself. Characters created on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners and should not be used elsewhere without the creator's permission.
Special thanks for the members of TDOM who make suggestions to help make this site better. Even though we can not accept all suggestions, we immensely appreciate it. Thus, we give credit to any additions that you thought of and were later implimented by the staff, because we are glad you give us these excellent ideas.
