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!
He hadn’t anticipated this. The fallen angel had moved fast and far after he was freed from the grasps of the man who held him brainwashed for a majority of his life, though he had forgotten the threat beyond that. Father was looking to take him back, probably to use him as an investment again. Under no circumstances, would he let that happen again.
It had lead to many sleepless nights, many hushed but hurried footsteps to keep moving. If he had a place to stay, he’d hole up and barricade there, but so far he has no place to hide. Darkness slowly saturated the sky as he slowed, feeling that maybe he had bought enough time. Unfortunately, he had managed to calculate wrong. Due to his tired state, he hadn’t noticed the presence until it was touching him.
A hand roughly grasping at his scruff had Torrin tensing, instantly lashing out in a open-palm strike that collided with the side of the person’s face, creating an audible thud as they recoiled and released him on instinct. Wide violet eyes noticed movements in the shadows, in the corners of his vision and he knew there were likely others around, though there’s no way of knowing if they were all together or if there were unrelated people just caught in the area as this happened.
He turned to try to run down the alley so close he could almost feel it, his wings automatically manifesting as he moved so that once a distance was made he could really get the hell out of here - but that backfired. Not only was he just barely not fast enough to successfully duck into the alleyway, rough hands closed around delicate wing structure and pulled, almost pulling Torrin off his feet as the edge of his wing pulsed once in reactionary pain. Gritting his teeth and spinning slightly, Torrin’s heels are fast, the blade hidden in the sole of one shoe clicking free and slashing through the pants leg and into flesh from the accomplice of the one with a hold on his wing.
In automatic response his captor pulled harder, a subtle crackling straining a delicate bone, a few oil slick black feathers being wrenched painfully free as he staggered, his light weight definitely putting him at a disadvantage here. Nevertheless, his own instincts kicked in and he leaned back into the person pulling his wing, just long enough to land another slash on the accomplice via some fancy footwork. Naturally using his momentum as the other pulled him close to swivel and wrench himself free, his wing throbbed again in a wash of pain.
Using a knife hidden up a sleeve to slash across the person’s jawline, it was just enough to startle him. Torrin seized the opening and darted down the alleyway, his instincts driving him to weave a weird path of twists and turns after he got to the end of it.
Almost stumbling over his own feet after he felt a safe distance, he slowed, bruised wing clasped close to his side as his breath hitches. Panting for a minute, his sides heave as he tries to regulate his breathing once more. After he manages to get himself steady again, he starts to step forward once more, aiming to go down a more familiar path.
He stopped in his tracks though when it proved much more crowded than he thought. There were a few people scattered throughout, and he wasn’t expecting someone to put their hand on his shoulder. Tensing and staring at the uniformed person with wide eyes, his hearing caught something about ap involvement and needing to take him in. He knew it was just a ruse though, probably by those that just tried to take him off the streets.
[attr=class,bulk] TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, Murder (mentions of blunt force trauma, stabbing, broken bones, burning)
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Dangerous wolf, roaming the streets, hands slicken with coppery-scented blood. Masked in the dusking world, Micah peered from the obscured window, purple eyes analyzing the world around him. Behind his back was the stench-ridden, death-bathed room where his atrocities laid broken. Several people laid, twisted, broken, burnt and blood. Red splattered across the roof and walls, a scene with critical evidence of blunt-force trauma and seemingly anger-influenced stabs of a knife. The crime was a wondrous artistic display, something difficult to link back.
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A cruel, malicious murder disguised as a brutal crime of passion. Silently, the perpetrator retreated from the window, admiring the ugliness of his profession. A man, skull bashed in after he villainously smacked him hard with the hefty candlestick. His stomach thoroughly burnt as the Infernal Beast pushed back the strong man with licking flames of evil. Chest decorated with badges of failure; littering of stab wounds. The man's head was dented up, the broken, blood-covered candlestick lying beside him.
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The weapon for his busted nose and fucked up face. Lacerations from sharp strikes, bruises from hard smacks of the blunt object. Meanwhile, the woman received a similarly cruel fate. A woman transformed into swiss cheese from the entrance and swift leaving of his knife. If he foolishly missed gagging her with her husband's blooded sock, she would have screamed louder than a banshee. The pooling blood on the floor brought a sickening coopery odour mingled with the stench of death. A wonderful perfume for a violent scene.
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The culprit, Micah Rey, held a sinister smirk despite his drenched work clothes. The long-sleeved shirt he wore clung to his body, ripped jeans permanently stained in the sinister liquid. He bore minimal wounds, merely the occasional scrape and bruise from the man's attempt to fight back. The target was him, a man dubbed Lorel Barkley. A former Assembly of Phantoms soldier who foolishly traded the blood-soaked background for the heroic stripes of the TRS. It was pathetic how one's resolve crumbled in the name of good deeds.
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As darkness began leaving the sky vibrant with streaks of colour, Micah returned to the window. Another quiet peek before Micah snapped his fingers. The disguise hex broke, wings revealing themselves from hidden slits in the back of his shirt. Wings stretched and primed, Micah edged onto the window ledge before tilting over. On the wind currents, Micah's wings picked up, flapping and allowing him to rise. Over the winds, the infernal beast soar, hurrying while his eyes flickered. At worse, people would pick up on his involvement in the savage homicide.
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Through the air he hurried, avoiding TRS while his purple eyes scanned below. In the obscured alleyway, he narrowly managed to notice the familiar dark and bright accented uniform of their enemies. Similar to a child drawn to candy, Micah quietly landed on the roof of a nearby house. Ears readied, the murderous man listened as the TRS spoke over the radio about catching an Assembly member... Quietly, he peeked over, noticing the TRS member holding a strong grasp on a dark-haired man the wolf failed to recognize.
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Curiosity flickered in his eyes. Perhaps a new member needing a hand? While the Assembly of Phantoms notoriously operated in a dog eat dog method, their ultimate goal remained the same; defeat the TRS filth. Furthermore, an opportunity was provided in the instant; assert his dominance over the new pipsqueak. Stealthily, Micah moved across the roof, gliding down to the alleyway concrete with his wings. He watched the TRS member, waiting for him to grow distracted with the captured AP member before creeping closer.
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Every step was levelled, slow, and quiet. The sounds made were muffled by the crowd of people hurrying home and chattering about. The hunter hardly stood a chance once his attentiveness waned. Abruptly, Micah reached out, fire coated hand covering the man's mouth as he harshly yanked him against him. Surprise and pain brought the release of his supposed ally's shoulder, and the hunter, unable to scream as the fire consumed his mouth.
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"Awww, does that hurt? What a fucking shame," his tongue clicked. "I better just put you out of your misery."
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In a single swift movement, the Infernal Beast sliced the man's throat. Blood splattered forward and moments later, his body would fall limp. Quietly, Micah released the hunter's burnt mouth, allowing him to fall against the pavement. Slowly, his purple eyes flitted to the assumed Assembly member. Screams sounded as people realized the crime committed in the shadowing of daylight to evening.
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"Dumbass, you got yourself caught," he chuckled at him. "Now hurry up, they're going to be on our fucking asses any minute. You better be able to fly."
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The Assembly soldier spread his wings out, a single glance over his shoulder serving as a check. If the dark-haired man claimed flying was impossible, they would be forced to break for the wilderness. However, once they entered Calico Forest, Micah was confident they could escape into the night, a pair of criminals.
The hand on his shoulder and the nonsensical words spoken, the fallen angel’s ears buzzed slightly. His mind kicked into an overdrive, mental processes being covered in a thick blanket of darkness. Memories broke over the floodgates, unwanted and unbidden. Muscles tense automatically, his pulse racing through his veins. If he were any sort of feline, the fur along his spine would surely be bristling on end. Sparks of tension sing along his muscles, threatening to force him into action.
The corners of his vision blurred and brightened, static setting in. Memories threatened to swallow him whole, playing behind his eyes like an unscripted movie. Voices and scenes flickered by like lightning, like a roulette on what would be settled on. Balancing on the precipice on the cliff, he draws in a sudden breath and finds himself falling. The first thing to solidify itself in his mental circuits, was his father’s voice. A dark, venomous tone that was never pleased with anything the fallen angel could accomplish. The memories didn’t linger long before they shifted into the ones he really hadn’t wanted to remember.
The feeling of cold steel in his hands, of the splashes of hot blood against his skin. A somewhat unskilled first kill, the gurgle of someone trying to speak through a savaged throat. The trembling overtaking his limbs, the first sign of weakness. Torrin’s frame trembled under the grasp of the unknown TRS agent as he continued to remember his own demons.
When they realized their mistake, that was when they had begun conditioning him. Assuring responses to certain phrases or commands, ability to suspend fear and empathy. To hesitate, to feel remorse would have made him too much of a liability. So they did the next best thing, slowly started to strip it out of him. It was a resounding success, even though it was not without it’s drawbacks. No matter what they tried, they could not peel back the fallen angel’s desire for freedom.
While he had been in their possession, he had executed a large amount of kills. Countless years piling up would prove testament to that, as well as making sense for his deadly prowess. He had become almost seamless, perfect at killing for some time. Those days had been behind him now, but it was still not that far removed of a time. His instincts were still trained to a razor’s edge, even as he tried to wall them away. Perhaps, this was a sign it would all resurface.
The black feathers of his wings almost seeming to bristle, though one still dully throbbed with pain. It wasn’t really noticed, though it was a small tether to reality. His head slowly turned to face the TRS member, as he was wrenched free of the memories polluting his stability. ”I don’t think you...” Torrin’s voice was almost small in these moments, but it didn’t match his face. Pulling himself back forcibly, the grip on his person was almost broken which alerted the man further.
Face was cold as he stared, almost blank and expressionless. It was a far cry from what had only moments before, been a practically panicked expression. What he hadn’t been expecting, was for somebody to seemingly come to his aid. Violet eyes lifted to lock onto the new arrival, at first almost frozen by the unexpected nature of receiving help. The grip was finally broken completely, releasing Torrin from captivity. Stepping away some, the beating of his heart started to calm some. Adrenaline was still prevalent in his system though, so the wired sensations would take time to retreat. Despite his own assault earlier out of desperation to escape, this was an unparalleled savagery.
The stranger is efficient, though it was something that was likely necessary. The sight of blood wasn’t unfamiliar to the fallen angel, neither was the presence of it on himself. Glancing away to the fallen TRS member for a moment, he remembers his own former occupation for a few brief moments. It had given him skills meant for the kill, things that have become useful for mere survival. He tenses as screams ring out, having it long since ingrained that getting caught was certain death.
”Y..eah...” Flexing the wing he had been keeping clamped to his side, a dull pain throbbed through all the connected nerves. ”I can manage...but I don’t know for how long.” Long enough to cover some distance, though the faster he moved the shorter he’d be able to last. Less strain was equivalent to being able to handle it for a longer duration.
While he wasn’t particularly aware of where they might be headed, he didn’t care in the moment. All that mattered enough, was getting far away from here and quickly. He naturally was ready for immediate action, to fall in place behind the other male’s lead. It was a natural deference, as he had just been rescued. Questions could probably be saved for later, as there wasn’t much point to sitting around and talking. Not with someone dead, and likely authorities on the way. Escape was imperative, lest one have a death wish.
[attr=class,bulk] A smirk appeared to play permanently across Micah's face as his purple eyes locked onto the foolish soldier. The young man was narrowly captured by pathetic bastards. The notion was equally ridiculous, however, the brunette had warranted time to criticize his assumed coworker. Though, the constructiveness of referring to the darker-haired man as a 'dumbass' was arguably nonexistent and counterproductive. However, nothing ceased 'harsh criticism' from leaving the lips of the Infernal Beast. Placing captured into any equation of this brand labelled it officially as a failed venture.
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As he awaited the ever-crucial answer from the stranger, Micah's wings stretched wide, revealing the entirety of their wingspan in a single moment. Muscles within his wings eased and loosened from the simple action, exhibiting their appreciation to the man who donned them. Despite his body language being characterized as relaxed via the stretch, the Assembly soldier's violet hues investigated their surroundings, analyzing them. The Terror Response Syndicate was already invading the outskirts and undoubtedly, more lurked.
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Their weapon's brandished and eyes playing the roles of hawks, the obnoxious organization would search for the fugitives. Their occupations were tracking down those affiliated with the Assembly after all. The brunette hardly graced the waters of foolishness given his circumstance. Thus, his eyes flitted about, his ears listened to his surroundings, and he paid attentiveness to the supposed Assembly member he discovered. Despite his arrogance and capabilities, Micah was aware trust was an earned commodity and nothing to carelessly hand out.
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As words escaped the violet-eyed man's lips, Micah's locked upon him. Uncertainty over distance, was enough to cause a soft tsk of annoyance to slip between the procubus' teeth. Meagre concepts of unforeseen setbacks were an irritation on the brunette's nerves, nonetheless, he would handle them appropriately. He was confident they could successfully escape from the observant eyes of TRS members... or murder or mutilate them before they could breathe a word; personally, the soldier preferred the murder option, but mutilation worked effectively as well.
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His wings remained stretched, Micah's blood-coated hands carelessly grabbing the opposing arms to cross them. It was evident he there was no remote care for covering his clothes in filth. Glints of arrogance filtered through his purple eyes as his smirk only widened.
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"If you can make it to Calico Forest we'll be fine, bud," Micah began before chuckling. "Besides, if we get held up we'll just kill the bastards who did it. They all deserve it anyways, the fucks."
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In seeming evidence of his disdain, Micah brought his foot back and kicked the throat-slashed corpse to the side. The dead man deserved death for following the TRS' wishes anyways... The demon's wings stretched to their full width once again as he jumped. The pair of large wings flapped throughout the action, gradually carrying him further into the air. From his increased height, he stared down at the darker-haired man.
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"Hurry your ass up cause I don't know about you, but I don't want to get cornered," the Infernal Beast shouted down to the other man.
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Impatiently he waited for the other man's take off into the skies above. The procubus' arms crossed, his fingers tapping as he waited for the stranger to join him. Perhaps it was a mere few seconds, however, Micah was hardly a convoy of patients. He exuded the contrast, impatient and reckless, desiring to dive into the heat of murder and walk away victorious and covered with his opponent's blood.
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credits
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.
