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!
[attr="class","tctext"]There was a subtle sense of comfort discovered in being tended to by Danika. If anybody would be managing the state of his wounds, Ozias preferred his former apprentice. Despite injuries being considered a darker infliction, the large man could always enjoy some playful banter with Danika. Furthermore, the green-haired woman was never overly fretful over his wounds. He could appreciate the sentiments, however, somebody who comprehended the reckless nature of his actions and avoided badgering him about it was a pleasant break.
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The promises of a small poke were greeted with a nod of understanding. The sensations of being stitched up arrived with the pokes of a needle against his skin. Fortunately, the numbing of his arm assured the pain captured in the action would be kept to a minimum. Nonetheless, the large seraphim would never adjust to the peculiar poke and weaving of nasty wounds. Through it, he focused on keeping his injured relaxed as Danika proceeded with her work. A soreness would probably develop, however, Ozias kept it to the back of his thoughts; his arm would be numbed for a while.
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The light-hearted conversation kept the dark-haired man eased. Their "plans" for a personal medical room were discussed, a soft chuckle left the man's lips.
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"If I'm gettin' a personal medic, it better be you, Dani. At least then we can have a nice conversation and I can visit more," he responded with a soft chuckle.
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Their conversation in regards to her softness was greeted by a gentle smile from Ozias. Softening was never anything negative, rather, compassionate emotions could arrive with those fortunes. As she spoke, the seraphim resisted every urge to shrug his shoulders, knowing thoroughly how this could result in Danika's stitching turning messy. Even as she stated time would eventually conquer, the larger man maintained a smile. While keeping one's skills sharpened was crucial, the seraphim believed Danika's place was better in the high-pressure, albeit, a safer environment of the ward.
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"Soft isn't always bad, Dani," he commented quietly. "I wouldn't worry about it. You're happy in the ward."
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A nod was provided as Martin and his care was mentioned. The younger medic proved a protective individual, those emotions being appreciated by Ozias. There were plenty of situations where the man dragged him out of a dangerous situation, thus, the seraphim always displayed thanks towards his actions.
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"Yeah, he's a good guy. I am glad to have him around, especially for moments like this."
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Softly, the larger man chuckled to punctuate his words. Somebody was required to drag him to the medical ward, and Martin was among the people most capable. Gradually, the stitching reached its end, wound being closed with the assistance of Danika's careful hands. The soft sound of metalic scissors rubbing past one another to snip the thread's edge narrowly reached Ozias' ears. It was a sign the proceedings were almost finished. As natural as clockwork, Danika proceeded to work on steadily cleaning the wound.
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Once Danika claimed everything was finished, the seraphim cautiously rolled his shoulders to stretch them before sliding off the examination table.
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"That is for sure! Somebody has to protect everyone and if I get something small like this for protecting someone, then I don't have issue with it," the dark-haired man explained.
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A content grin remained on the seraphim's face as he stood, however, rather than leave, he stayed put. Sparing a few extra minutes to chat with Danika would come with no ill-harm. At least, the talkative Ozias Abrams was under those assumptions.
[attr="class","tctext"] A lip-tight smile stretched across his lips, corners tugged up. Through the injuries, he carried a deep smile, powerful and refusing to crumble. Always, Ozias considered himself the grin and bear type. It manifested from a stern belief of others holding larger problems than his meagre ones. A wound was nothing in comparison to the plenty of near-death experiences hunters faced. It motivated the large medic to push forward and maintain a grin despite the creeping concerns. Either way, his smile remained permanent as he interacted with Danika; maintaining one turned easy considering their familiarity!
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Never was Ozias Abrams a stranger to the medical ward. His reckless protecting exploits made him an infamous patient. He became familiar with the list of medics inside the ward area, especially another of his former apprentices, Xena Quinn. There was a peculiar trend with Ozias' apprentices... A majority began as hard-working field medics, but later traded the pressures and stress of on-field medical administration for the different stress of ward maintenance and emergencies. They were excellent in both locations, however, he heard more about his patient infamy with them being inside the ward.
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A chuckle rumbled in his throat at Danika's jesting. "Are we going to assign me a personal medic too?"
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The smile across his lips strengthened upon listening to Danika's words about not softening. Never would he doubt the green-haired woman when she stated those words. The sheer notion of his former apprentice becoming soft from years spent inside the ward never crossed his mind.
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"Oh trust me, I know you ain't softening up Dani, but give it a few years," he paused, allowing a laugh to escape his mouth. "I'm kidding. You're a strong woman, I doubt you are going to shed your toughness."
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A warning was provided as the cloth soaked in cold water drew near his skin. As contact manifested, Ozias tensed and shivered out of impulse to the sensation. His race held a natural aversion to water, the coldness only worsening his feelings towards it. Seraphims experienced weakening effects when exposed to water. Even when Ozias showered, he cranked the temperature to a boiling point to assure the effects would not cling to his bones. He nodded as Danika mentioned his fortunes in receiving a tetanus shot only a few months ago.
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"Well, I think Martin would kill me if I didn't," the seraphim chuckled.
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At the request of a recount of the events that brought him here, Ozias smiled. Already, he could imagine the swirling dust of a freshly killed terror. The loud noises of panic suffocated them, an angry Assembly member then BAM!
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"One of our hunters was down and the other just killed this terror. So the AP member was getting desperate and charged," he paused a moment because of the subtle pain of a needle entering his skin, "the injured one. Guess he wanted to kill something but didn't expect me to get in his way. Bet he was hoping I would turn tail and run, but we both know how likely that was."
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A soft laugh breathed through his lips, his uninjured arm scratching the back of his neck. A dangerous choice given the Assembly member's desperation, but necessary to protect the young hunter. The passing time of his recount was a clever method to wait until his wound numbed up for the stitches. When asked, he nodded, knowing already the confirmation Danika searched for.
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"You should be good to start, Dani," the seraphim confirmed.
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Stitches and Ozias were a pair of long-lasting lovebirds it appeared with the amount of time the field medic received him. This would be another of those infamous dances with the needle as the wound was pulled together for proper healing.
[attr="class","tctext"] The seraphim field medic from unit three was never a surprising face in the medical bay. Years of service made Ozias Abrams renowned for receiving injuries to protect those around him. For some patients, further damage could be a death wish, meaning he needed to do something! Nonetheless, getting Ozias to display regret in his reckless actions was nearly impossible. Defending and healing others was something the large man took seriously and to the extreme, evident by the wound gracing his shoulder. Fortunately, it made Ozias unflappable when having to be healed.
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Patiently, Ozias awaited the opportunity to be tended to by his former apprentice. His injury frequency, unfortunately, resulted in him being a common face in the medical ward. He settled comfortably on the examination table, making it clear there were many times he received medical attention from the ward. People knew he could be a reckless man when it came to protecting his fellow TRS members. He watched her smile followed by a head shake, a soft chuckle breathing through his lips. Through the pain, Ozias always discovered an excuse to smile, hence his peculiar reaction to speaking about wounds.
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He listened to Danika's comment, a grin on his face as he nodded. "Glad to hear, I don't think a squeamish medic would do too well."
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A soft laugh punctuated his words, his hazel eyes watching the green-haired woman. The awkward sensation of old bandage being peeled off arrived shortly. The gentle tug of skin around the wound erupting with acute pain because of the dry blood super glue. Alas, a glance at Ozias' face would make it difficult to tell the discomfort in the removal. He rarely displayed pain with absolute openness, therefore, a mere discomfort was easily hidden. As Danika completed removing the cloth bandage, a well-humoured comment escaped her lips.
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The injured man chuckled again, good arm being used to scratch the back of his head.
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"I will remember that for next time, Dani," Ozias responded, establishing a nickname. There was a pause until he heard Danika mention flushing the wound again. "And alrighty, do what you need."
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He watched from his position from the table as Danika prepared to clean his wounded shoulder again. As expected with rust-related injuries, the green-haired woman inquired about his last tetanus shot.
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"A few months ago, so I should be good," he answered.
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Every ten years people were required to get a new tetanus shot, and Ozias assured to remain up to date. As somebody who worked in field medicine, safety was crucial.
[attr="class","tctext"]As Ozias turned to analyze the room Martin shoved him into, he was greeted with a familiar face. Short green hair framed her the feminine features on her face meanwhile vibrant green-blue eyes peered towards him. Automatically, an awkward smile settled onto Ozias' face as his undamaged arm reached to scratch the back of his head. If the seraphim were to guess, Martin intentionally requested the room where this young medic would be working. There were no doubts in Ozias' mind of this potentially being a version of light-hearted vengeance.
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Something relatively harmless, however, awkward for the intended target, Ozias. Inside the room alongside the large man was his former apprentice. A young, promising woman when it arrived at field medicine who traded everything for the contrast of being a ward medic; it appeared a common trend among his former trainees. Danika Roxby was among the many people Ozias trained and somebody he was proud to call a former apprentice. While she eventually shifted into the life of a ward medic, the seraphim held no resentment towards her choices.
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Being a field medic was a difficult task. The constant raging of battle alongside the grim scenes of people receiving devastating injuries. Not everybody could stomach the situation forever. If anything, Ozias was proud Danika decided to stick with the medical division and offer her services elsewhere. As she inquired about nothing being broken, Ozias provided her with a nod and followed her directions to sit.
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"I don't break bones too often, Danika," he chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the mood. "Will warn you, they think what cut me may have been rusted.
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Through injuries, Ozias always attempted to discover a method of maintaining a light-hearted atmosphere. There were no immediate dangers, merely a gash that required some stitching and antibiotics to avoid infection or, worse, tetanus. As he approached the table, Ozias turned, lifting himself onto it. He remained in a sitting position, patiently awaiting further instruction from Danika.
[attr="class","tctext"] As a protective individual, there were instances where recklessness claimed Ozias' mind. He was a field medic, somebody charged with the task of protecting and preserving the lives of his fellow TRS members so medical attention could be administered. Those tasks were never taken lightly by the large man, rather, they were considered an honour to be weighted on his hefty shoulders. He wanted to help, to use his abilities to better the world. Those goals, he wore on his heart and was determined to complete no matter the frightful consequences to potentially arise.
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Therefore, the gash to his shoulder was hardly considered astonishing as the transport vehicle returned them to headquarters. Pain echoed in his wounds, the burn of an injury created by cursed weaponry evident. The sensations of a cloth furiously working to drive out dirt resulted in a painful discomfort, however, Ozias found himself smiling. Across from him was stationed a young hunter with a bandaged up arm placed in a temporary splint, bandages wrapped around his head and a tattered uniform. Healing the damages through magic was not available after a rigorous battle expected the seraphim and his partner to expel any stamina.
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A grunt left the closed mouth of his co-worker as he scrubbed away. Briefly, he pulled away, sighing as he glanced over Ozias. The larger man was shirtless, jacket and TRS mandated shirt rested on his lap. His eyes flickered to his fellow medic, noticing the disgruntled expression. The dark-haired man's smile shook, turning awkward as he received the stern daggers of disappointment.
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"Remind me why a force field was not an option again?" He asked, a soft growl edging his voice.
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With his undamaged arm, Ozias nervously scratched the back of his head, an anxious chuckle escaping a toothy grin. Martin never enjoyed it when he received a nasty injury.
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"Wasn't enough time, sorry, Martin," he responded a slight cheer to his nervous tones.
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A vexed sigh left his partner's lips as he dunked the bloodied cloth into a water bucket being benevolently held by a hunter. Steadily, Martin returned to scrubbing away the remaining dirt while pressing gauze against the bleeding sections. Regularly, he would merely wrap the wound and force him to wait until they returned home. Alas, with accusations of the attacker in question using a rusted blade, chances were not being taken.
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"When we're back at HQ, it is straight to the medical ward with you! If you refuse, I am getting one of those livestock sticks and shooting you with an antibiotic needle myself!" Martin declared angrily.
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A gentle chuckle left Ozias' lips until sudden pain caused by an intention rougher scrub caused an 'OW' to leave his lips. When the large seraphim glanced over, he was greeted with a tense glare from his co-worker. He thought Ozias was taking nothing seriously, but in reality, Martin's anger was easily laughed off by the thought of being chased with a stick.
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"I will. I promise," the dark-haired man informed him.
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Eventually, the vehicle lurched to a stop, a driver informing the battered group that they reached headquarters. The back doors opened, a ramp being lowered as patients were assisted to the medical ward. With Martin close behind him, Ozias was pushed towards the door from the frantic medic. From there, his co-worker effectively dragged the shirtless field medic down the hallways, Ozias' large hands holding the pieces of clothes. The moment they arrived at a vacant room where they were informed a ward medic was, Martin, shoved the brown-eyed man inside.
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A smile traced Ozias' lips as he shook his head at the worried medic's actions. Despite his pushiness, the seraphim always appreciated the actions his coworkers committed when concerned about his health. They cared about him and at all instances, they forced him into the medical bay as though he possessed a death wish. In reality, Ozias returned those emotions of concern and wished to protect as many people as possible. Slowly, his eyes shifted, partially bandaged shoulder aching, as he glanced towards the medic expected to assist him.
[attr="class","tctext"] During the earlier hours of the day, Ozias could have never guessed he would have the opportunity to reunite with Zahara. Alas, fortune arrived when he managed to catch a glimpse of her slender figure hiding on the rooftops to observe the Pride Day Parade. Merely seeing Zahara again inspired a broad smile across the field medic's lips. Years had passed since they interacted, that horrible day years ago having separated them. Thus, a moment to finally catch up on life events was a fantastic opportunity to rekindle their friendship.
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Thoughts of those childhood days were marvellous, the days where they played together despite the age gap. Even though he discovered he was older than Zahara, they found methods to create enjoyment in those situations. A wind breezed through, ruffling hair as it passed. The seraphim glanced towards the direction the wind came from, watching a few moments before his ears managed to detect a question spoken in Zahara's sweet voice. A smile graced his lips when she inquired about his reason for ascending to the rooftops.
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"Well," he began awkwardly, slight hesitance. "I was looking around and thought I saw you. So... I had to come to check... It has been too long, you know?"
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When his brown eyes returned to him, astonishment breached his cheerful expression before the grin slowly returned. Those magnificent sparks in the purple colour were captivating, something unlocking a distance memory of days spent together. There was something blissful about her presence, especially after spending days with her absence. An injury about the festival left her lips, prompting Ozias to glance over at the people below.
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"Well... there might be some. They have a lot of food stalls and places to talk. I don't go often," Ozias answered with a slight shrug.
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There were few moments when Ozias attended the parade, sometimes being caused by his occupation. At times he could only attend certain portions, thus making it difficult to keep track of everything. Shortly, the field medic's occupation came up, Zahara clearly remembering his launch into the apprenticeship. The worrisome tone was detected in her voice, Ozias taking a mere moment to appreciate her concern.
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"Yeah... but I don't do the fighting," he said, smiling a bit. He was always proud of his occupation. "I just heal the fighters. I mean, I can defend myself, but I am better off healing others. And don't you worry about me. I'll be alright, worry about the people who are on the front lines."
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Those who fought the Assembly with their intense sense of bravery and justice deserved to have the eyes of other people looking over them. They required protection and people to mend their wounds whenever they received an injury.
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"Anyways, what have you been up to?" He asked, trying to segway into a different topic.
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People consistently worried about his health because of the dangerous circumstances of his occupation, however, he was determined to heal others. They required protection and medical assistance at a constant, thus, Ozias decided to serve the Terror Response Syndicate.
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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.
