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!
Immense pleasure was discovered in irritating the raiju sergeant of unit three. The man's short-tempered nature amplified his requirements to indulge in annoying the living hell out of Severus. Manifesting those emotions in a ticking time bomb of a man was beyond easy. As much as Brasti fancied a good challenge, easy-mode teasing still retained its entertainment value. It was better than Bugs Bunny cartoons because of his direct involvement. Furthermore, the brunette still had not retreated from the bench.
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Whatever maintained Severus' position on the bench was thanked by the male demon. The extension to the dark-haired man's entertainment was welcomed with wide open arms. This boiling over pot was bound to blow his lid eventually, and Brasti was mentally preparing for the precious moment. A violent reaction still existed in the realm of possibilities, although, the demon hoped to avoid injury. However, witnessing the incredible spectacle would be a testament to his capabilities in the heavenly poke the bear game.
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A simple pun brought forth seemingly endless amounts of damage, but also further material as Severus attempted to insult him. Laughter echoed from Brasti's mouth the sergeant's ridiculous attempts at returning the favour. Insulting Brasti Vanderfeld was frequently accepted by the man himself as something humourous. Why should he care about somebody else's opinion? At least, when they were not his precious wife. As the laughter died, a 'hmm' that oozed condescending sarcasm left through the demon's closed lips.
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"I don't know, you seem pretty bothered," he countered teasingly. "Man, going to have to go around and tell everyone I bothered Sergeant Cross."
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The smirk playing across Brasti's lips spoke volumes about his opinion on the matter, although, the laugh that punctuated his words assisted in similar objectives. Insults rolled off his back, almost as though they never made contact. All that mattered to the demon was his primary objective; poking the bear. A few words hardly slashed away at his high-arrogance and certainty in his actions. Every remark stated through his lips as casual as ordering food could hardly be hindered by meagre you're stupid insults.
A quietness consumed his home, interrupted by the eerie ticking of the kitchen's clock. Insufferable seconds documented with every rhythmic tick tock. It was rather vexing... Since the centuries of old, shortly after his betrayal, the demon found himself walking alone. Defending himself, accomplishing the reckless and risking his life at every frightful turn. In silence, Brasti's violet eyes stared at the cameras ahead, hardly registering what he gazed upon. Rather, thoughts of the hourglass curves of a woman's body and gorgeous strands of red hair haunted his mind.
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There were days where it was difficult to avoid thinking about her... The woman he loved those many years ago. How many centuries now? ... He no longer knew the answer, but it felt as though forever passed. His alarm echoes through his empty room, a sign his work was completed and perhaps he should consider rest... However, tiredness hardly leaked into his bones... A soft sigh breezed through his lips. His hand reaches up, closing the laptop stationed in his work office. Slumber was not considered on the table of options...
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His black, gloved hands adjusted the colour of his dress shirt and suit coat. Dexterously, they adjusted the position of his tie, tightening it rather than loosening. Rest would be delayed, for thoughts required clearing before he could even consider those necessities. From the table, his fingers plucked the pair of sunglasses, hap-hazardously sliding them on; nearly poking his eye with one of the legs. He rounded the table, exiting the kitchen in favour of the near-empty hallway. The demon hardly kept much decorum, preferring practicality over anything else.
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At the end of the hallway was a single door, the hinges squeaking once Brasti twisted the doorknob to open it. Quietly, he closed it behind him, entering the concrete-floored basement. Leaving his house directly during the evening hours was nothing short of moronic. There were plenty of people who loathed his very existence, thus the demon could believe people observing his home's movements. A single table was stationed inside the basement laundry room. Atop it was a box of child's chalk, a surprisingly useful tool for hex makers.
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A single piece was plucked from the chalk dust covered box. Only a few more steps were taken until Brasti crouched, chalk making the concrete floor. Some swift movements of the hand allowed for the hex circle to be formed through the simple use of chalk. Carefully, he opened his suit coat, placing the chalk into an inner pocket for safe keeping. The demon carefully stepped inside, standing directly into the center. His fingers came together, until snap! Light engulfed Brasti as his body disappeared, landing him in one of Lorsette's many districts.
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Where hardly mattered... He merely needed a walk to clear his thoughts. For a moment, he surveyed his surroundings, admired the night sky and the quietness of the world... It was better than that dreaded clock. A long exhale trailed from Brasti's lips as he shoved his hands into pockets and began walking. The coldness of the evening hardly bothered him... rather... he ignored. The steps began gradually. How long he strolled for being lost in meagre moments as he remembered her voice, her laugh, the times they shared...
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In the night rung laughter which shook Brasti from his complicated thoughts. The demon's eyes flitted around, eventually landing on him. There were plenty of instances he bothered the infamous unit 3 sergeant, although, already the situation was beyond different. The high-ranking individual of the hunting division looked hammered. The scout deputy could tell from his distance how intoxicated the brunette was. An expression unusual to the demon crossed his face, a soft frown and subtle cracks of concern.
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Poke the bear was among his favoured games, alas, Severus' state made it among the last things on his mind. The blackmailer was not a heartless man. The brown-haired raiju with alcohol thicker than blood in his veins and his back against the wall was his ally... Leaving him to drown in his intoxication undoubtedly meant death by the hands of a terror, Assembly member or perhaps even kidnapping and torture. A sigh left the demon's lips as he departed from his original course to gain a closer look.
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"Hey, you okay?" A serious tone riddled Brasti's voice upon his approach.
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Regularly, the demon would have began his endless mouthing of things to irritate Sergeant Cross, yet, two things saved the brunette this eve. The hammered state of his mind and the somewhat depressive state of Brasti's. Thoughts of his deceased wife easily rattled him from the world of complete uncaring and jeering remarks... By Volos, he missed her. In Severus' consciousness, words leave his lips, suggesting he had get to intoxicate himself to the point of black out.
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"Does why really matter? You don't look so hot," the demon answered, if it could be referred to as such. "Had a little too much to drink?"
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While Severus hardly struck Brasti as a hardcore party-goer, anything was possible during these days. However, something about the scene presented to him suggested something awry... As though there were deeper meanings behind the emptied bottle and his position beside the wall... Nonetheless, the demon refused to press for now... What mattered was getting Severus somewhere he could pass out without waking up dead.
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[ For my tracking: AU Crack Ship, Brasti's wife died centuries ago, leaving him single. So he has been alone for many many years fending for himself. ]
Well-placed anxiety was exhibited by his apprentice. The demon's eyes narrowed slightly from behind his darkened spectacles. Rumours followed Brasti, hushed words exchanged because of his questionable methods of information gathering alongside his willingness to blackmail. The possibility existed given the sheer weight given to his name. The scout deputy was detested by those around him, therefore, it was nothing unusual. Despite these potential revelations, Brasti maintained his charming smile, playing the part as unconcerned.
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Revealing cards were unnecessary until the pieces of the fictional chessboard aligned accordingly. Without buckets of information on his latest apprentice, Brasti's choice of action was playing off the nervousness. There were no requirements or laws stating he needed to ooze constant blackmail and trouble causing. Once their game concluded, the demon would retreat to his office and begin the deep dive into researching Graelish Aurendel. His primary job was acquiring information on others, and Brasti was frightfully adept in accomplishing those goals.
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At the provided nickname, Brasti gave a nod without further words. He would obey the seraphim's wishes of being referred to as Gray, impart because Graelish was a mouthful. The choice was given to his apprentice, a minor thing given both lessons required learning. The blurted out response suggested a young man anxious for the battlefield; it was not unusual.
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"Alright. Do you have any battle training? Weapon preference? Or are you someone who uses your abilities to fight?"
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The basic questions escaped Brasti's lips with a neutral tone. These were the boring aspects of apprentice training, but unfortunately a necessary evil; like his blackmailing! The demon waved his hand, gesturing for Gray to rise and follow. If they were doing self-defence training, he wanted to give Gray an idea of what he could work with. The question in regards to mentorship hit Brasti's ears and resonated in his mind... This apprentice was actually clueless about him, evident by the question he asked.
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From Brasti's perspective, the young man was unaware he was apart of the scouting division and furthermore, a deputy. The pair of blue stars on his chest made it evident he was a scouting deputy after all. Impulses to allow a devious smile to form were resisted, the demon maintaining his charming expression.
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"I am unit one's scout deputy," he began his explanation. "So, I am apart of the scouting division, however, I usually focus on camera management and information gathering. I am assuming you're going to be geared to the on-field work? Unless that is not your forte?"
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On-field work meant terrors, tracking and information gathering. The general groundwork was accomplished by the on-field work, meanwhile, Brasti was considered somebody geared towards research, hacking and gathering information through questionable means. Could he accomplish on-field work? Most definitely, at times it became a requirement given Donovan's reckless tendencies. The dark-haired demon could fight, it became among the reasons he was never spared from mentoring duties. He was versatile with work and merely placed where he was considered strongest.
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If Gray rose to follow, Brasti would start walking his apprentice towards the equipment room where some of the training weapons were stored. Behind a locked cabinet were the weapons permitted for training sessions which were composed of a variety of swords, knives, guns among other options for young apprentices to try.
Stationed on the adjacent side of the bench was something best described as a pot trying to avoid boiling over. Amusement flickered over Brasti's countenance, permanent and refusing to die. Everything Severus accomplished was what Brasti desired from the sergeant. The smirk played across his lips, unhindered by the angry trembling being done by the short-tempered bomb. If anything, it motivated the sunglasses-wearing demon to proceed with his... cruel torment of the unfortunate smoke-hungering man.
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The cigar was ferried away from his lips, a cloud of smoke drifting through. It flowed up, disappearing into the air in a calming puff of ugly greyish smog. The nicotine flowing through his blood soothed him, avoiding burn up from anger, unlike the foolish sergeant. The brunette appeared displeased with his obnoxious jabs, however, it was exactly the reactions Brasti searched for in his 'poke the bear' game. He leaned back, smirk widening as the man attempted to insult him back, however, the demon barely stumbled over insults.
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"At least I learned something from the playground," he responded with the coolness and arrogance of an undisturbed man.
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Based on attitude alone, anybody could tell anything Severus attempted to dish back at him was failing to properly perturb him. The cigar caught between his fingers returned to his lips, taking another puff of nicotine. The burning edge of his cigar was reaching the end. Unfortunately, the time arrived and the demon was required to snuff it out. With the snap of his fingers, the flames died out before he chucked it in the tray. On a brighter note, the scout deputy had a few more precious minutes of a break to enjoy this.
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He leaned back against the bench, adjusting his body position to watch the raiju, hoping to observe more cracks in his composure. The smirk widened as Severus mentioned the perishing of his smokes. The demon merely chuckled at his foolish blaming; he allowed his fury to conquer his mind. The laughter increased as the dark-haired man amused himself further.
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"You could say you're in a pickle," he told him, amusement rumbling from his throat.
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The chuckling proceeded as he amused himself with his silly jesting. Now he merely required hope that Severus would not discover similar entertainment in his little pun. Although, given their interaction thus far, it appeared unlikely. Besides, it was in regards to the man's precious smokes and as a fellow nicotine-inhaler, Brasti was aware their value and expensive price.
Extreme punctuality had been made impossible because of the circumstances of Brasti being handed the task. As he pushed open the gymnasium doors, his eyes flickered to the watch secured to his right wrist. 11:03am. This was already unprofessional due to the short notice assignment of his apprentice. A soft tsk escaped Brasti’s lips as he crossed the threshold into the training centre’s gymnasium. Behind the dark-tinted sunglasses, Brasti’s violet eyes surveyed the area. A few wayward apprentices were practicing in quiet corners, some having the attendance of an adult.
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None appeared to be similar to the hastily flashed picture they showed him before leaving his office. A gentle 'hmm' sounded from his closed lips as he glanced around until his sunglasses covered eyes managed to spot a lone figure sitting on the bench. The man sported the yellow accents of an apprentice along with vague traits overlapping with the quickly displayed photo. Dark hair, fair skin, there was a high probability the solidated man was his apprentice. A charmer's smile featured itself on Brasti's face as he sauntered over to his assumed apprentice.
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He offered his hand once the distance was close to create the beginnings of an introduction. It felt required given the limited information he received.
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"Graelish, I'm guessing? I'm Brasti Vanderfeld, I will be your mentor through your apprenticeship," the violet-eyed demon introduced.
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The smile remained on Brasti's face as the cogs of his brain turned. Hastily, he began developing a plan for showing the young man some defence skills alongside an array of movement practices. On-field scouts required high precision with their movements and a capability to defend themselves should things turn sour. Even the demon was trained in combat when he joined the TRS, although, he never required it given his past background as a hell soldier... As much as he despised his deceased father for attempting to separate him from Lilliana, the man trained soldiers well.
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With the initial introductions completed, Brasti reaches to softly adjust the collar of his dress shirt. The grumble of throat-clearing echoed through his closed lips.
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"Anyways, I imagine your classroom lessons taught you the basics, so where would you like to start? Self-defence skills or perhaps some movement practices?"
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He offered the option to his apprentice to "repay" for his late attendance. While the incident was beyond his control given the short-notice nature of this apprentice assignment, he would not sully the TRS name with his grievances. Besides, there was plenty more they could speak about in regards to him and he would rather not handle personal questions from an apprentice.
Amusement played across Brasti's countenance the longer he observed Severus. There was word about his infamous short-fused attitude, meaning a soft push could start the bomb ticking. Not bothered by the thought, the demon remained in his reclined position and savoured every dosage of bitter nicotine crawling over his mouth. An inhale followed by the ferrying of his cigar from his lips, smoke slithering through his slightly parted lips. The electric lizard returned a comment, displaying the ever-familiar aggression.
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Even going the length to finally face him and slam a hand on the wooden bench. In a mere question, Brasti managed to poke some buttons, much to his pleasure. People threatened him, gruesomely describing his death or blathering on about it; Ryker accomplished it frequently. Therefore, a meagre insult, if it could be provided such appraisal, was considered insignificant. The smirk remained steady as he stared off, watching Severus through his peripherals. As the final tendrils of smoke escaped his lips, the demon's smirk widened significantly.
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He received what he desired, perturbing one of his coworkers, but similar to a starved wolf, he hungered for more. Considering the temperament of the person he shared the bench with, the opportunity was golden for Brasti to discover amusement.
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He kept the cigar parted from his lips as he spoke, voice laced with a hint of snark. "Well you just did, so I guess you failed in that."
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The comment was the pinnacle of childishness, but breaks were designed for relaxation, therefore, tormenting Severus more would summon amusement. Besides, the sergeant wished to completely disregard him. Not entertain him with even a light conversation about something insignificant. It resulted in the decision to entertain himself through Severus' involuntary involvement. Already, it appeared the brown-haired sergeant burnt through a smoke, suggesting success in Brasti's obnoxious little game of "poke the bear".
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Without a single concerned thought in his mind, Brasti reclined on the bench. With another quick flick, he sent ashes into the canister before returning his cigar to perch between his lips. Once secured, the demon adjusted his glasses, violet eyes focused on his peripherals. There was one crucial rule to remember in "poke the bear" and it was to avoid serious injury... A bad wound and Lillianna would be displeased, especially considering they had a baby on the way.
The news was handed over abruptly without an opportunity for research. He was expected to become acquainted with the young man, whom they informed him possessed the name Graelish Aurendel. Limited information was specified, mostly the type Brasti would require for training exercises all handed verbally. They knew if the hacker desired more, he could hunt it down without hassle... The short-noticed responsibilities left Brasti rising from his chair moments after being given the information alongside a start date; more so a time given it was today.
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The scout deputy assumed it was their method of keeping him out of trouble. Meanwhile, they gleefully used the blackmail material he provided when requested. Alas, the demon held no ill-will towards having an apprentice thrust upon him for their mentorship period. Tristan Anderson, a former apprentice of his, turned out excellently and at times operated as a station hand for his office during dire situations. Although, he was under the assumption Graelish could be a more field-oriented scout unlike Tristan, whose skills were better suited for hacking information rather than on-field work.
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As Brasti exited his office, he accomplished the regular action of locking the door behind him. Some snoopy individuals discovered pleasure in invading his personal space and an unexpected training session would be an opportunity. Thus, the scout deputy kept the door locked tight before bringing up his phone to verify that the cameras were opperational. A smoke break was one thing, but being out for training, Brasti preferred to maintain caution. Once satisfied, the demon accomplished a finally survey the immediate area before heading down the hallway towards an alternative exit.
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Through the hallways he ventured, shoes lightly tapping on the tiled floors of the TRS headquarters. He passed by the occasional person who lifted a brow, but dared not say a word against Brasti's actions. Briskly, the man walked, hands hidden in his pants pockets as escaped the information center to the back entrance. As he turned the final corner, a pair of large double doors blocked his path. Upon nearing the door, a hand slithered from his pocket to push the door open. With a simple push, he entered the mid-summer heat of a pleasant July morning; the temperature was dialing up recently.
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Nonetheless, the heat exposure failed to even perturb the fire immune demon as he began his short walk along a small dirt path overseeing the sparring grounds. The short path led to the front of the training centre, the second building located on TRS property. The front door was pulled open as Brasti entered the building, weaving through the hallways to the well-known gymansium. The individuals who handed the manipulative demon the training task informed him his apprentice was sent there. As he approached the gym's doors, Brasti mentally ran through the limited information he received in regards to his new apprentice.
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Graelish Aurendel, Seraphim, Scout Apprentice, Unit 2.
Quietly, Brasti leaned back against the backrest of the bench, an arm resting over it. The demon's left leg crossed over the right while his arm rested on the lifted leg. A whirlpool of thoughts soaked in Brasti's mind as he briefed himself on the freshly digested information. Similar to a chessboard, each piece was being thoroughly planned as his unit would undoubtedly be going through the detainment process. They required information and if home investigations or bank transaction history failed to collaborate the possibilities, the demon would gleefully blackmail.
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Thus, until he received the go-ahead, Brasti planned on gathering more information and handing it over to the authorities as needed. Another deep breath of inhaled nicotine entered his lungs, escaping his mouth in thin strands of grey smoke. The dark-haired man adjusted, flicking the ashen end of the cigar into the plastic gathering. As he sat, his leg bounced as plans smoothly wove together. A smirk stretched onto Brasti's lips, evident despite the cigar hanging from his lips. The damned criminal was doomed.
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Before Brasti could further his thoughts, the soft click of the large doors being opened gained his attention. The demon glanced over, noticing the entrance of the infamous Severus Cross, Sergeant of the third unit. The demon adjusted his sunglasses, maintaining silence as the man approached the smoker's bench. He knew the brown-haired man because of his mentorship of Donovan Beckard, the Lieutenant of unit one and his well-known partner of his. Since the wraith returned to earth, Brasti became involved in the situation.
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He kept the disguise hex going, his talent proved by the absence of his large horns. He assisted in the preservation of Donovan's secret while simultaneously helping with the tasks piled onto him. Throughout Donovan's mission, Brasti played the role of support, spending time watching cameras, keeping medics on speed dial and assuring he would receive back up when required. The smirk widened when Severus took a seat on the other side of the bench, making no effort to hide his disdain for him.
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A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Don't wanna talk?"
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The comment was not an opener for conversation, rather, a remark designed to perturb his bench companion. It was beyond tempting to bother the TRS sergeant. Besides, the potential reactions were already amusing the dark-haired demon. Across his face was a smirk which made it obvious he desired some amusement throughout his smoke break.
Tedious. The word that described a portion of affairs in the Terror Response Syndicate, or at least, for the man who implements devious tactics. Earlier in the morning, Brasti Vanderfeld was handed the objective to gather information on an individual labelled morally bankrupt. People alleged he was a weapons smuggler handing over a variety of cursed arms to the Assembly of Phantoms. Everything was claimed to be alleged as people spent time interrogating the hardened criminal. Several arrests, long jail sentences, the man was a cold-hearted crook.
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Little was he aware the predator laid waiting behind the glass of a computer monitor and company of cabinets. Between time spent assuring the safety of Donovan, Brasti dived into the deepest portions of the web. He hacked through any monitoring systems in the outskirts, made a few calls and eventually discovered something lurking amidst the shadows of the man's dodgy history. Evidence clear as day of his criminal affairs with more questionable ones lingering in between; the type that resulted in one being thrown to the wolves in a prison.
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Was it blackmail worthy? More than imagined without compromising any RCMP cases against the man. A smirk lit the demon's face as he adjusted his sunglasses; he was among the perceived fools who wore sunglasses indoors. Gradually, he leaned back in his chair as strings connected. There was a love interest playing her part in the story, one quoted as being important... and somebody who could potentially be linked to the crimes unwillingly. During a runaway session, she coincidentally discovered him fresh from theft.
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The evidence was incriminating enough to possibly arrange for her arrest. If he refused to crack, perhaps she would grant the TRS the information they longed for. To improve matters, the woman was a wanted felon in another country with prisons that treated inmates horribly. Blackmail material was undoubtedly available, alas, Brasti longed for more information to work with. Long-standing criminals or TRS members rarely cracked easily beneath the pressure. However, the demon's swift fingers opened the TRS e-mailing system and sent the evidence to his colleagues.
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His work was unfinished, however, the video evidence would be grounds to keep the man incarcerated, if not in the TRS cells, in Lorsette Penitentiary. While there was still plenty of work that required finishing, Brasti knew he needed a moment to step back for a cigar break. He pocketed the bullseye blue cigars stationed on his desk before pushing the chair back. Smoothly, his thumb opened the package, the tip being perched between his lips. Without hesitation, he closed the pack and shoved it into his TRS mandated jacket.
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The other hand grabbed his keys. Always, the TRS deputy locked his door before leaving his station. Nobody wanted snoopy members rooting through his carefully organized stuff. They could damn well wait 15 minutes until he returned! The door was opened and closed before being promptly locked. A quick test was accomplished to check for a busted lock, but the door refused to budge to Brasti's glee. He retreated from his office, weaving down the hallways of the TRS headquarters. People reacted to his presence, some observing to assure his violet hues dare not lock onto him.
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A manipulative bastard. Those were the words civilians and TRS members frequently described Brasti with. They feared his morally questionable methods and capabilities in gathering embarrassing information. Furthermore, at times he indulged in toying with others for his amusement. Few gained contentment in his company, one of the few being Donovan Beckard and his unofficial second-in-command, Adair. Spared of his cruel ways, the trio worked together as a strong team of TRS officials. From afar, Brasti observed cameras, gave information, sent reinforcements and medical while they accomplished the brunt of the work.
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Then in instances of hasty actions being required, Brasti would leave his wolf's den to assist on the frontlines for, despite his early betrayal, he retained some skills of the former Hell soldier. Through the heavy double doors of the side entrance closest to the information sector, Brasti emerged. Automatically, his hand was lifted to his cigar and with the snap of his fingers, a flame appeared. His flame freehand shielded the tiny fire as it lit the tip of his cigar. In a single inhale, the bitter taste of nicotine played across his tongue and down his throat.
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As his breath released, trails of grey smoke escaped his slightly parted lips. His legs moved in the meantime, ferrying him closer to the bench set out for the smokers of the organization; completed with one of those plastic ash receptacles. He stationed himself on the bench, proceeding with his quick break without a second thought.
Slowness evidently plagued Kiona, enough for Brasti to be prompted in following his back-up strategy. Haste was required in times of absolute crisis, therefore, the demon refused to take chances. The young field medic already got snatched up by a kidnapper once, thus the scout refused to allow that to happen again. His team mates were required in this frightful war against the Assembly of Phantoms and after this fight, they required any able-bodied individual they could receive. Smoothly, he pulled Kiona closer, fluently hauling her over his shoulder.
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Once successful, he retreated to the hex forged from blood. A dark patch had formed on his uniform from the blood seeping from his self-inflicted wound. There was pain pulsating through the gash, unpleasant, but necessary to save the young woman. Later, he would apologize to Lilliana about the incident to avoid worrying his darling sweetheart. She was probably aware of the attack, but the binds of her occupation kept her from revealing that information. As he stepped into the hex, the lines lighting with a faint glow.
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The glow crawled onto their wounds, flesh stitching together with ease until flawless skin existed. The bleeding ceased, pain numbing until everything mended. Only moments after did Kiona bring up teleporting, a smirk forming on Brasti's lips. That was already a crucial section of his plan. Wordlessly, he grabbed his chalk, crouching with the light-weight nymph on his shoulder to quickly draw another hex circle around them. Once completed, he carefully stood to his full height, magic focusing again to teleport them away from the dangerous battles around them.
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Light covered them, the pair disappearing and re-materializing just outside the gymnasium doors, but still inside the training center. They needed to enter through the proper venues to avoid anybody panicking. Upon their arrival, Brasti carefully let Kiona down to her feet so she could stand on her own.
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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.
