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!
Winter was a cruel, obnoxious season. The world froze over, hoarfrost clinging to trees and snowflakes making a sea of cold powder across the ground. Throughout their history and presence, Cato despised the cruelty of the bitter season. Winter was a representation of hardships, the season being a marker for food struggles, cold and misfortune centuries ago. While nowadays individuals prepared themselves for those hardships with endless advancements, Cato failed to appreciate the season of white snow. Snow would provide moisture for the upcoming spring and summer, but their species made winter difficult.
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The chilling temperatures resulted in Cato binding themselves in scarves and thick, long-sleeved shirts to avoid the devastating chill. An annoyed groan escaped the reaper’s lips as they shuffled through the deep snow. They were a puppet on the Assembly’s strings, forced to follow the trail wherever they wished them to be. Due to a pressing issue, the Assembly of Phantoms dragged them out of the safety of their home and into the headquarters. The Assembly desired assistance with medical matters, thus, as a trained and practiced physician who learned and expanded their knowledge, Cato was called in.
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The fortress was in Cato’s sights and they picked up the pace, attempting to get inside as soon as possible. They stumbled through the door, grumbling as powder fell way onto the carpet. The stomping of their feet released the snow from their shoes before shaking out the jacket. Attending the headquarters was something Cato despised. Being surrounded by people who genuinely believed their ridiculous cause was tiring for the plague doctor. The ancient reaper was hastily ushered into the medical quarters by awaiting Assembly members; they always fretted about their loyalty.
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The reaper kept their head down, avoiding any troubles from the surrounding Assembly members. As they moved down the hallways, the situation was explained. On this afternoon, Cato would play the role of assistance, probably to assure they would be supervised. They knew their loyalties failed to align with the Assembly, their position only maintained through threats and force. Once showed the room, Cato shuffled in, silent and eyes wandering around the room. Inside was a man with white hair, somebody they never once spoke to.
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The reaper cleared their throat, attempting to loosen any gravelliness their voice regularly contained. Nothing could permanently free them from their questionable voice, but occasionally it eased the circumstance of their throat.
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“Greetings,” their faded voice narrowly left their lips. “I was asked to assist you?”
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Gradually, Cato moved closer to the man, eyes wandering about. They were uncertain how busy the Assembly of Phantoms were around this time, however, they were expected to oblige. A single step out of place, and they would lose the single remaining family left in this twisted world.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 463 words for @alaric
Positive social interaction was never Cato's strongest ability, evident by the behaviours they represented to the mysterious shifter. Alas, they never managed to communicate with somebody capable of brushing off those harsh words spoken by somebody scarred through their many years. Every comment designed to push away seemingly backfiring when Meredith laughed off their anti-social remarks. It aggravated Cato, however, everybody required social engagement thus the benefits exist, but the reaper refused to ponder them.
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As a strong cynic, Cato struggled to place their trust or even bright sides to certain interactions. Therefore, the Assembly medic allowed their biased thoughts to conquer their mind. They owed no debts to this man, thus, the reaper kept their opinions, firmly sticking by each thought which entered their brain. The plague doctor watched as Meredith provided more signs, a soft, inaudible huff breaching their lips upon reading the comment. They returned the strange comment, causing Cato to be displeased with the idea.
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While the reaper refused to believe those comments, the truth was revealed in their attitude and their garbs. Nobody wore the old-style medical outfits created to assist doctors in treating the black plague. The long, curved beak accompanied by the dark robes of an olden-days harbinger of sickness. Gradually, the conversation progressed to the finishing remarks, Meredith signing a farewell with a surprising final comment. It was pleasant talking to them? This man was truly a peculiar one.
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"Yes, plenty to attend to. Farewell to you Meredith, you best find refuge from the cold," Cato signed in return.
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Shortly afterwards, the reaper's black-coloured wings stretched open, flapping with great strength to successfully lift them from the snow-covered field. Once airborne, Cato verified their direction before preparing to head home to Quentin.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 290 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] It should almost be there. <3 We can figure out where to go after Cato's exit.
There was a moodiness to Cato's behaviour, accomplished naturally because of their previous problems with other individuals. From sour interactions to manipulative motives, the reaper's life featured a variety of rocky incidents that left their heart scarred. Each moment was a reminder of how their trust could easily be misused, taken advantage of because of the cynical intentions of others. People focused on their objectives, disregarding the feelings of others to fixate on the ultimate goal, their desires.
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The wary reaper kept their eyes narrowed as the wind buffeted them, attempting to seep through their clothing. The wind whistled, reminding Cato of the pending cold should the weather shift into a full-blown blizzard. The plague doctor knew they were required to return home. Quentin was waiting for their return, their white-haired housemate possibly concerned because of the delays. As usual, Cato informed him they would be meeting with the Assembly of Phantoms, which quickly suggested a dangerous situation if things turned sour.
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Laughter erupted from the shifter Cato conversed with, an inaudible growl escaping the reaper's lips as they glared at Hector. What the hell did he find funny?! In the Assembly medic's perception, Meredith was a nosy nuisance despite the white-haired man accomplishing things natural to a conversation. Alas, Cato never enjoyed listening to inquiries and being required to answer them, thus, they scowled beneath their mask. The words which coincided with the writing were unheard because of the frigid winds, but it was nothing Cato desired to hear.
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The thanks surprised the reaper, a brow lifting as they cocked their head to one side. This shifter was a weird individual and Cato was failing to comprehend their actions.
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"You're a strange one at times," Cato signed.
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The man continued to sign messages, requesting to find shelter to continue their conversation, however, Cato shook their head. They needed to return to Quentin and settle any potential worries which may have entered their housemate's mind.
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"I must head home, there are things I must attend to," Cato signed before turning away.
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Gradually, the reaper waded through the snow, heading in the direction of their home, but still keeping tabs on the shifter behind them. Their concern consisted of Meredith potentially following them, however, Cato needed to return to Quentin. Failure to accomplish the action shortly could increase worry, and Cato refused to allow that to continue.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 369 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] XD I am glad, since Cato probably won't stop.
These instances were when Cato despised their transformation into an undead creature. The slew of temperature-related weaknesses was bothersome, however, it needed to be handled. Without the proper temperature maintenance systems assisting with their body temperature, the reaper would undoubtedly freeze. Returning home shortly would be the smartest choice of action, however, Cato's trust issues kept them from accomplishing that objective. Meredith displayed a friendly disposition, however, the Assembly medic was well-acquainted with betrayal.
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Scarred, the perfect word to describe the mental wounds left by those Cato thought they could trust. Father grasped the beak, pulling away off their only protection from a frightful, deadly illness... A wealthy friend who required the assistance of a plague doctor betrayed them, keeping them cooped up and insisting Cato needed to remain there. Then there was the Assembly who manipulated them from the beginning with photographs of the daughter they searched for. Few people deserved trust and anybody desiring it was required to earn it.
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Wind proceeded to batter the pair, the ill-favouring weather eliminating more options and making the temperature colder. Flying home was nearly impossible, furthermore, Cato was never a speedy flier. Chances were, the tiger shifter could easily follow the flight path without any problems considering their failures in speed while flying. Briefly, Cato's gaze flitted around, searching for shelter or a potential distraction... Terrors could possibly be lurking in the horrible weather, however, it was difficult to say for certain.
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Unfortunately, it was downright unlikely considering the weather conditions would gradually worsen. There would be Assembly members guarding the area, however, there were no guarantees they would assist the reaper. Despite their association, Cato possessed little significance to their cause. If anything, the reaper was a begrudging slave forced into work. The amused expression on Meredith's face resulted in Cato narrowing their eyes and pouting, however, the expression would be unseen because of their mask.
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As Cato observed Meredith's signed reply, an eye roll proceeded, hidden from sight. The curious stranger was a complicated interaction, specifically because of his need to ask incessant questions! Incessant in Cato's mind being a meagre few inquiries, but the ancient plague doctor was renown for their lack of tolerance. Despite the cold, the reaper prepared to sign back, the temperature regulating bracelet assisting greatly.
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'I have noticed,' Cato signed before adding, 'and you best not. I do not invite nosy strangers to join me.'
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While Meredith may have inquired about basic subjects, Cato despised being questioned. The ancient reaper possessed many years of either being betrayed or manipulated and they displayed those scars whenever possible. Whether it was intentional or not was difficult to say. They were somebody forced into a defensive attitude and forced to struggle with realizing the moralistic side of humanity. Those concepts were difficult to digest when almost everybody around them appeared more keen on using them as opposed to being supportive individuals in their life.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 487 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] Cato says better than tigers. XD Also, CATO BE NICE! They are such a rude person. And no worries! I never mind waiting. c:
Snowflakes increased, becoming sharpened needled because of the weather's intensity. Throughout their conversation, the incoming blizzard was gaining power. Tightly, Cato's wings nestled against their back in a desperate attempt to maintain warmth. Wrapped around their wrist was a temperature regulation bracelet, however, the reaper worried the horrendous conditions could potentially result in negative side-effects for idiocy. The mask protected Cato from the wildly flung snow, but the frigid temperatures could seep through their garbs. Protection from the elements was limited, the temperature regulating bracelet being Cato's primary form of defence; perhaps they should cease their lingering. These conditions were dangerous, especially for reapers who struggled to handle freezing temperatures. Briefly, the Assembly medic's yellow eyes flitted around the area, surveying their surroundings for threats or signs of the weather conditions turning direr. Thick, dark-bellied clouds blocked the blue skies, sunlight disappearing and leaving darkened fields of deepening snow. Beneath their bird-like mask, Cato's eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a deep frown.
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Worrisome circumstances were to arrive on this unfortunate day as mild weather transformed into colder temperatures. The Canadian wilderness was renown for frigid winter weather, plenty of jokes and realities existing in response. After a few moments, Cato's eyes returned to the man, viewing his introduction with the use of sign language. The relief they craved was discovered when the white-haired man stated he would cease with the annoyance of referring to them as 'Birdie'. Promptly afterwards, there was a reciprocation as the man stated his name to be Meredith. Further signing revealed a simple, unexpected phrase which caused a subtle, fleeting eye-widening for Cato. Nice to meet you. It was truly an unpredictable set of words considering their cynical beliefs.
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'You as well, I suppose,' they reciprocated, albeit, with a ruder diction.
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The signs of coldness surrounded their acquaintance, the man's lack of preparation for frigid conditions growing apparent. When inquired about their route shortly afterwards, Cato hesitated, uncertain about providing him with the requested information. The reaper's home in the Ivory Woods was an isolated location, a small shack out of Aria Village. They were affiliated with the Assembly, but Cato preferred distance from those members because of their situation of "joining".
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'Not necessarily,' Cato signed, dodging the question.
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The vague answer was entirely a method to defend themself from stalking or having their home forcefully taken. The small cabin housed themself and Quentin, and while their numbers against a single man were favourable, Cato refused to expose Quentin to violence should it be avoidable. The white-haired man was discovered after a violent scenario, thus the reaper believed it would be unwise to recklessly allow a previously roaring tiger shifter into their home.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 447 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] No worries! The thread is fun so I can't complain. <3 XD Hector should learn Cato thinks trees are great.
The wind howled wildly around them, kicking up snow from the ground below. Gradually, the weather appeared to be worsened, a horrible fate for those trapped outside with little shelter. Clouds were accumulating above, their dark shading suggesting a fresh coat of snow would fall from the skies. Cold air swirled around Cato and their mysterious companion, which was concerning despite the temperature regulating bracelet secured to their wrist. Reapers were ill-equipped for frigid temperatures because of the structure in their bodies, suggesting that should Cato's charm weaken or the conditions become overwhelming cold, they could face the possibility of freezing. Observantly, the plague doctor's eyes flitted around, mentally planning their route home should it be necessary, however, they imagined salvation would come if their plan failed. The Assembly medic knew their assistance of sorts, Quentin, was patiently awaiting their return from the meeting. Words were hidden by the loud sound of wind flying around them, suggesting that sign language was soon going to become their best method of communication. Shouting was an activity which strained Cato's voice immensely after all.
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From behind the plague doctor's mask, their yellow eyes narrowed in annoyance to their companion's incessant requirement to refer to them as Birdie. In irritation, Cato crossed their arms, pressing them against their lower chest to represent their annoyance with the ridiculous nickname. Their body language, from what could be viewed, displayed a closed off nature, the impatient tapping of their finger suggesting their tolerance was wearing thin. Instead of lingering on their irritation long, the reaper uncrossed their arms to proceed with signing their messages. The simplistic return was expected considering the calibre the stranger stated he was, however, Cato was pleased it was not a nonsensical rambling of random motions. Each motion was read, the mentioned nickname returning to the surface when their companion decided to sign in. An annoyed groan escaped Cato's lips, the winged reaper loathing the nickname they were abruptly provided.
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'CATO! Now stop calling me a bird, damn it!' They responded, motions quicker than usual and seemingly aggressive.
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There were no requests for reciprocation, Cato pausing to release an inaudible sigh. They merely wished for the ridiculous nickname to disappear and never surface again. Silently, the reaper waiting under the assumption that reciprocation would be provided even if there was no request; the stranger did mention exchanging names after all.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 397 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] Trees are a safe place for birds though. lmao Also, grumpy Cato says no more being called a bird! XD
Safety was discovered from being perched in the tree considering it created distance between themself and their mysterious company. The distance between them manifested comfort for Cato, thus they remained motionless, comfortably maintaining their position on the branch. Unfortunately, the distance resulted in making conversation difficult on account of the reaper's raspy voice. Alas, the stranger appeared to be properly hearing their quiet voice, thus Cato assumed there would be no qualms over their current distance. The scarred heart Cato possessed kept them from relenting their trust, the endless paranoia about potentially being betrayed resulted in them keeping their distance. People proved to be dangerous, merely desiring to accomplish their own objectives rather than worry about the feelings of other individuals. The request to return to the ground brought a frown onto Cato's face. A soft sigh escaped their lips, the reaper's mind debating if swooping to the snowy ground below was a good idea. Worries remained about what could occur should they decide to land, especially considering the plethora of possibilities which arrived with landing on the ground.
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The laughter caught Cato off guard, the reaper's eyes quickly flitting towards the mysterious shifter. A scowl crawled onto the plague doctor's face, however, it remained hidden by the bird-like mask secured to their face. The assistance to the ridiculous nickname the stranger gave them was bothersome to Cato, however, nothing could remedy the situation. Comedically, the plague doctor was perched in a tree with their black wings stretching behind the individual. The offer to remove the nickname only if they returned to the ground made a sigh breath through the Assembly medic's lips. An angered grumble was muttered out of Cato's lips as they positioned themself into a position to swoop from the tree. A short leap was taken, the reaper's wings spreading and gliding down from the branch. Clumsily, Cato landed in the snow, the weight of their wings alongside the robe's style making them stumble. Their arms pinwheeled slightly before the plague doctor fell forward, their gloved hands plunging into the snow. Cold embraced the reaper's hands and knees, an irritated sigh leaving their mouth as they slowly pushed themself back to their feet.
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"Happy?" Cato mumbled out as they brushed the snow off their black robe. "Now stop calling me a bird..."
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Dispelling the 'Birdie' alias was Cato's primary objective since they despised the foolish nickname. They were entirely displeased by the decision to give them the silly nickname. Eventually, the snow was brushed off their fabric, Cato wanting to avoid soaking their clothes if possible. There was a pause as the reaper glanced at the mysterious individual, their curiosities about the man's comprehension crossing their mind.
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'Ask me if you don't understand something, but signing is easier,' they signed.
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Each movement was surprisingly quick, Cato's extensive years of handling the problems created by their death manifesting a familiarity. The signing was natural solely from long years of learning the language, but the reaper attempted to be cautious. Their signs began quick, however, were slowed after they thought about the shifter's statement about only being a fair level; evidently, they were used to speaking to Quentin who thoroughly knew sign language.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 534 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] I NEED TO STOP ACCIDENTALLY MISSING THIS POST! ;-; Also, Cato thinks this is unfair. XD They like their tree.
Everything about this situation was slightly frightening, but also possessed a factor of interest due to their mutual difficulties in trusting others. However, the basis of friendship could not manifest until they learned the bonding sensations of trust. Unfortunately, Cato's cynical nature would prolong the field of extreme wariness towards the other individual; it was an inevitability. Quietly, the reaper observed, almost entirely motionless except for the subtle twitches of their wings and the occasional rubbing of their aching throat. Breathing was soft, the gentle breaths purposeful to cease the subtle pains evident inside their throat. There was a brief silence after Cato allowed the stranger to become privy to their woes through a vague sentence indicating an extensive amount of time suffering from those who manipulated them. Details were currently unnecessary considering their lack of friendship, thus the reaper remained hushed about the many occurrences of betrayal in their life. As they remained perched in the tree, still watching the mysterious individual below. The sudden nickname resulted in Cato's eyes narrowing into a glare.
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"I am not a bird..." The subtle tone of vexation breached Cato's words as they crossed their arms.
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Nicknames were something peculiar to the plague doctor, their already shortened name usually sparring them from something they never truly favoured. However, the bird-like mask they always wore appeared to provide them with an irritating alias... Despite their disdain over the nickname, they refused to speak about it, the aching in their throat bothering them immensely. The response to their peculiar inquiry resulted in their eyes narrowing further. While the request was strange, it was solely because of their difficulties in verbal interaction. There was a chuckle which would have labelled the sentence as a mere joke, however, the serious reaper failed to be amused.
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"No... my throat gets sore from speaking," Cato countered. "What level would you be?"
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Being provided with an approximate comprehension level would allow Cato to become aware of how speedily they could sign and the diction required for their conversation. The reaper's hand reached up to rub their throat again, making their soreness evident through these random actions.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 356 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] This is what Cato gets for wearing a plague doctor mask. XD
Few people could be trusted in Cato's eyes, the cynic's long history of betrayal from those they once labelled friends and family manifesting an inevitable hesitance to provide a complete stranger with trust until they have thoroughly earned it. Merely handing out the single thing which could allow for betrayal around without consideration was a move of ignorance in the reaper's eyes. Their own family decided to flaunt the luxury, their father removing the mask and getting close, spreading the deadly, contagious sickness the people of those times lacked knowledge about. Those thoughts of a father betraying his son were enough to keep Cato in the safe branches of the tall tree; their father was plenty willing to pull away the "protective" mask of the plague doctor to assure for spreading of the nasty disease. The tiny, amused smile on the white-haired gentleman's face resulted in the reaper cocking their head to the side, evidently, this individual was among the few who found the notion of a plague doctor sitting in a tree humourous. Then arrived the disappointment, a countenance they were prominently forced to display on account of other people's action.
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When the stranger spoke, a brow raised from beneath the mask. Rarely were their people who could potentially understand the emotional devastation from constant betrayal from others and perhaps the crushing sensation of manipulation. Somebody who could comprehend cynicism because of similar experiences provided to them on behalf of the world's malice. However, the idea of another's experiences through life being worse was always a questionable notion, yet, the reaper never questioned it. There were plenty of people who became the punching bag of the malicious, thus Cato did not prod at the idea.
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"Centuries of torment... betrayal... I apologize, but... I am unable to merely trust," Cato explained vaguely.
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There were attempts to keep the responses clipped because of the mild pain manifested in their throat, the damaged vocal cords lacking the capability during these long conversations. Despite returning as a reaper, the sickness which tortured them until they inevitably died proceeded to haunt them in these minor inconveniences.
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"By any chance... do you know sign language?" The reaper asked, praying in hopes of giving their throat relief.
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The croaky nature of their voice was becoming more prominent the longer the conversation continued, thus they hoped switching to sign language was a possible method of communication. Unfortunately, previous encounters informed Cato few people delved into the silent language.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 413 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] OMG, YUS! XD Cato says they are NOT A BIRD. lmao
The movement of air remained evident as Cato's large, black wings proceeded to flap, keeping them high above the snow-covered ground while their yellow eyes stared, analyzing the movements of the man below them. Eventually, their wings would tire from hovering, but the reaper refused to swoop down and settle in the snow where the potentially dangerous shifter stationed himself. Fighting capability was nearly nonexistent for Cato, the lack of deceased in their current proximity meaning there were no weapons they could presently procure. There were plenty of abilities which could stun the mysterious individual should they suddenly become a threat, but spawning their wings consumed time and energy. A soft sigh escaped their lips as they swooped towards the nearest tree, slowly easing closer until a foot managed to grace the branch. The reaper was hasty to allow themself to lean on the branch, hands reaching to tightly grasp it while their wings attempted to slowly reach their back. Careful movements were made on the shaky tree limb until they sat, feet dangling over the edge; there were plenty of people who would likely joke considering the bird-like features of a plague doctor's mask.
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Comfort was difficult to discover as Cato inched closer to the main section of the tree, keeping themself stationed on the rough wood. Quietly, they sat, listening to the stranger's words as he provided a potential reason for trust. The longer the shifter spoke, the sterner the reaper's expression became, although, everything was hidden by the long-beaked mask strapped to their face. When the man concluded, a soft sigh escaped Cato's lips as they thought about the numerous people who harmed them because they foolishly placed their trust in another individual. Each time, the reaper was harmed emotionally, making each betrayal taxing on their mental health, thus, they refused to move.
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"The world is a cruel place," they stated cynically. "I've been hurt far too many times than I care to mention... so I am not lending you my trust."
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The cynical explained it naturally, the words flowing from their mouth without hesitation. There remained a raspiness, the words croaking from the depths of their throat as they spoke. A mild irritation entered their throat, Cato's hand unconsciously moving to rub their neck over their jacket. People had betrayed them, harming their ability to trust another individual for the end of days.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] 397 words for @meredith
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] Ooooh? <3 I like this idea, maybe it will be the start of a VERY SLOW friendship. XD Also... Cato is perched in a tree... Welp, they earned the nickname "Birdie". lol
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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.
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