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 2022
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.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Eased off by the nectar of alcohol, Russel leaned comfortably against the plush backrest of the leather booth seats. The bespectacled man's eyes were fixated onto the companion of his booth. Granting attention to the varying passing faces and bar chatter blurred into a complete impossibility. Rather, Russel's attention span required fixation on a single individual, a sole conversation. Anything further and the brunette risked getting lost amidst the sea of spoken words, a conversation journeyer lost in the Aether.
Momentarily, he considered fetching another drink to solidify his numbing state, however, his drunken mind decided to wait for a conversational gap. On the fortunate side, thoughts of Florence drifted away with the inability to focus on a multitude of concepts. Placed into a buzzed state, Russel was pleasantly pacified while not being inebriated of complete forgetfulness of ideals. Astonishment briefly flickered in the brown hues of Russel's optic at the nickname Bell claimed security gave the TRS forensics team.
Though in his impaired state, Russel's mind avoided commenting on the peculiar name, instead, a nod of acknowledgement acted as the response. Whatever security referred to the team as hardly mattered to the head of forensics at the present moment. Alcohol spoked in his mind, insisting the name does not matter. Why should he care about it? Unexpectedly, the winged man leaned in with a child's joy over the gruesome details of his crimes. The messed up things he witnessed when examining scenes and bodies to create conclusions.
Alas, a eased off Russel took no second thoughts about the enthusiastic request. In a moment of perhaps ignorance and forgetting the sensibilities of others, the head forensic thoughts churned.
"Well... seeing someone obliterated by a brute is among the worse, some have literally been crushed before. Not a pretty sight," Russel commented casually. "They are... mangled, bloody and hardly recognizable."
After years working in the forensics unit, stated the alcohol censored details to the security guard. However, censored from intoxication or not, one could easily imagine the gut-wrenching scene. The thought would be inevitably disturbing to anyone not desensitized, morbidly curious or inebriated from the affects of alcohol. Nothing about the imagery led to sunshine and rainbows, instead, twisting one's gut and leaving bile gathering in the lower regions of their throat. Death at the hands of the Assembly of Phantoms was always cruel after all.
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Intoxication would gradually blurr the world around Russel with every passing second. Through his veins, liquor would hide and infect his tortured mind. Thoughts of Florence required exiling from the forefront of the seer's mind. Each notion needed to be chased back to the crevices of brain, hidden away for another day. Despite the earlier grievances shoved onto him by his ex-boyfriend, Russel finally discovered himself easing. The companionship of the winged man accompanied by the pleasant downing of alcohol lowered the tense emotions.
The dire tones of their initial conversation and shared troubles of the heart soothed Russel. The opportunity to rant and vent out those dastardly emotions was provided at the moment. The seer eased against the backrest, hands hovering over the condensation of the glass tickling his palms. The cold radiation of the glass failed to tickle his hands after downing plenty of the liquid. After their miniature rants in regards to former partners and crushes, the pair seemed to enter a state of semi-calm.
Both were relieved of the tense, unfortunate emotions from what disparaged them. Things gradually shifting into casual regarding their occupation. The stranger stretched out the reddened wings, Russel's eyes flitted. Curiously, he glanced over the blond's impressive wingspan, similarly failing to notice the nearly wing-smacked patron. Suspicions were confirmed as the winged man mentioned mutually being a part of the TRS, specifically involved in the security portion of things. Gradually, the brunette joined the stranger's smile, albeit, with a smaller one.
"Security, eh?" He breathed out the sound. "I work in forensics. So I definitely spend a lot of time around headquarters."
The forensics work in the TRS headquarters was contained on most days. There were exceptions for Assembly or Terror related deaths where they would leave the safety of the main building. Nonetheless, there were likely to be days where Russel passed this stranger. Focused on work and hardly paying attention to his surroundings as he sifted through paper all while walking. The seer adjusted slightly in his seat, shuffle slightly, but keeping himself in relatively the same location. It was merely a minor shift for comfort.
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Every precious drop of escapism in a glass was valued by the trouble-burdened seer. The world around him ebbed away, seemingly growing faint, however, it lacked haste. At most, Russel was only finished a meagre part of his drink and was never considered light weight. He paced himself well, furthermore, the young seer enjoyed the occasional mingle at a bar or at home self-indulgence. Nonetheless, when the overwhelming weight of life burdened his shoulders, options felt limited. The easy option existed in his hands as they gentle held the condescensation-covered glass.
The cold sensations trickled over his fingers, alas, the focus remained naught. Rather, the seer's hazel eyes fixated on the blond-haired man who joined him. His winged acquaintance already proved better than stewing thoughts of a crueller man. Eventually, his hands firmed around the glass. Another, a longer sip of alcohol graced the bespectacled man's lips, allowing the drink to burn down his throat. He wished for the buzzed sensation brought on by the non-lethal liquid poison; to become impaired and relaxed by the toxic drink.
The glass softly clinked against the table, a hand retreating from the cool surface to wipe away the residue from Russel's chilled upper lip. As the man vaguely validating his revenge method, Russel gave a soft, somewhat dismissive shrug. He effectively threw Florence out and it made the bespectacled man feel good. Alas, in the aftermath he wished for nothing to do with the twisted cheater. However, the bedroom never felt the same, rather, it contained an atmosphere of constant concern. Remembrance of how he felt required to be cynical...
The gloomy atmosphere of the conversation was steered elsewhere, an intelligent move given the suffocating nature of sorrows. The sheer mention of recognition brought a soft glint to Russel's eyes. There was something familiar about this man and him holding a similar impression proved it. The few locations Russel could think of was the bar or work, his locations of travel limited since the harsh break-up.
"Well," he began with a soft exhale. "I frequent here, but I work at the TRS... that being said it is a lab job. But you look pretty familiar too."
He straightened his back upon his explanation to his acquaintance. While work would seemingly be an unlikely option, the mutual recognition increased the likelihood. Therefore, he placed all possibilities on the table, somewhat curious himself on where the familiarity derived from.
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Perhaps too eager to vent his frustrations, Russel discovered his depressive mood mingling with the soft boil of an anger pot. Escapism was the ever-sought goal of his bar venture. He plunged into the chatter filled bar suspecting a lonesome brooding until the blond approached him. Although, hidden beneath his bitter words regarding his ex-boyfriend was a masked appreciation for the stranger's companionship. Another individual was a distraction from the regular bar scene, giving Russel an excuse to be focused on something else.
Around their pity-party brigade were people dawning broad smiles as alcohol traveled like electricity through their veins. Wild party people with intentions of flirting through the night. Otherwise, there were the avid sports watchers shouting at the television as though the teams could hear them. Yet, every person inside the Golden Crown happier than Russel could be ignored by the blond's intervention. A peculiar concept to grant a silent thanks to, however, the forensic seer required a distraction over than the ice-cold drink dripping condensation over his hands.
The comment which left his companion's lips resulted in a gentle sigh followed by a head nod. Delving into the details of their breakup was a messier topic, one Russel preferred avoiding. Between the cheating and blatant abuse, it only caused people's blood to boil and the conversation to devolve into endless ranting and raving. Honestly, the seer wished to mellow down, even if the male was somebody, he assumed, prone to flirting. The man was a moment saver, a soft laugh leaving Russel's closed lips as he smiled at his companion.
"I'm not worried about that. I got the apartment, so I argue I got revenge already," he stated with a soft sense of pride.
The words were promptly punctuated with the ferrying of his drink to his lips. The returned question prompted a reaction from his companion. His wings dropped, although, Russel could easily assume what the expression behind the action was. Perhaps disappointment or some sort of sorrow related to the returned question. The start of the answer summoned an understanding to Russel's eyes as his expression dropped into a slight frown. The vexation of dealing with those burnt bridges was always a travesty.
The somberness of his companion's voice spoke volumes about the topic at hand. Perhaps they were birds of a feather, flocking at the same table out of pure coincidence. He listened to the man's story, a sympathy entering his brown eyes. There were instances Florence abused him, thus he could comprehend the sorrows of being hit by a person you loved. The feeling of somehow ending up in a relationship with somebody who excreted volatility and hatred.
"That's... harsh. I'm sorry that happened to you," his sympathetic emotions voiced. "At least you're away from her now. You don't deserve that shit."
He genuinely felt for the misfortunes the blond injured. The sense of betrayal mingling in with endless pain, both mental and physical... It always took its tolls. There were instances after his harsh breakup with Florence where Russel found himself crying and mopping... Fortunately, his father assured he would survive by providing him comfort and reassurance. Alas, the scars covered his brain and brought about ill-effects. Trust was a trait hard to come by, especially in serious relationships. Negative habits consumed him and in the end, he was a broken shell of the man he used to be.
He bruised into cynicism and came out unstable in intimate relationships. He struggled to express emotions or lend the person even an ounce of deserved trust... He was broken.
596 words ● @bell No worries! I can always wait! c:
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Russet eyes stared through his spectacles at the paralyzer as he placed it back onto the table. Thoughts swirled inside of Russel's head as his interaction with his ex-boyfriend haunted him. An annoyed grumble breached his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to shove away any thoughts of fuckface Florence. His elbows propped onto the table, fingers slinking into his hair while his palms remained stationed on his temples. He felt frustrated about his situation and upset over the memories of the past that stuck.
Footsteps approached, but Russel ignored them in hopes of banishing the despicable thoughts of his accursed ex. He revelled in his thoughts, distracted until a voice popped the bubble of focus. A confused hmm rose from his closed lips as his eyes slowly fluttered open, hands leaving his temple. The brunette's eyes shifting, meeting the face of a blond stranger with vaguely familiar traits had approached the table. The words the stranger stated failed to be caught, however, Russel assumed it was something along the lines of taking a seat.
The bespectacled man raised a brow, wondering if the blond was a random bar flirt, not that the brunette would complain. Sometimes a playful conversation could allow Russel to heal for a few moments and escape those depressive thoughts. Though, instead of flirtatious banter as he hoped, the man mentioned a rough night. A sigh left his lips as he nodded at the stranger.
"Yeah... I saw my ex today and," an extensive, annoyed groan left his lips as he leaned back against the booth's rest. "He really downed my mood... I'm not into him anymore, but... just the breakup and how he acts, it just makes dealing with him a fucking nightmare."
The bespectacled man's arms laid flat on the table, left below and right on top as he adjusted his position to be closer to the table.
"Anyways, what brings you here?" Russel inquired.
Reciprocating conversational interest was the correct move, furthermore, Russel would cling to anything to steal him away from these twisted thoughts. He craved the possibility of freedom, thus, he would leech onto the blond-haired man for the escape he searched for. Another small sip was taken of his alcoholic beverage, allowing the intoxicating beverage to further enter his system.
left alone, trapped in uncertainty. can anyone love me? anybody at all? or am I destined to be alone?
❧
Every time obnoxious, disloyal, UNGRATEFUL CHEATING FLORENCE showed his damn face, Russel discovered an itch overtaking him. The manner his cruel ex-boyfriend treated him through their relationship and afterwards was best described as disgraceful. Their relationship turned volatile, transforming into an abusive screaming contest until the day Florence brought home a girl and cheated on him. He remembered throwing out that mattress for something new because of where they decided to commit their filthy actions.
Only a mere few minutes after punching out at work had Russel discovered himself ambushed by his ex-boyfriend. Derogatory comments were exchanged, his former lover fancying the notion of rubbing in about how incredible his recent flings were. IT GROUND THE SEER'S GEARS WHEN HE DID THAT! Anybody who associated himself in a one night stand with the dumbass was hardly somebody Russel wished to hear about. Yet, his ex flaunted everything he did, informing Russel about how awesome life was since they broke up while informing him of his downfalls.
The condescending method he spoke resulted in Russel slamming the car door in his face and returned home. Alas, the annoyed seer would hardly remain in his apartment for long. He hastily changed from his uniform into something different, a plain light-blue shirt and a pair of black slacks. It was a Friday night and the itch suggested him to head down to the local bar and get a few drinks to drown away his sorrows. Hence, he obeyed without a single thought of hesitation filtering through his escape-desperate mind.
Thus after exchanging some cash, he left the taxi, choosing responsibly in case he became hammered from his choice. Fortunately, the bespectacled man could be assured his father would be around to heave him up and drag his sorry butt home. The seer shoved a hand into his pocket as he glanced up at the unlit sign. The words "The Golden Crown" were visible in large letters, the lights inside the plastic sign waiting for the evening. Summer air surrounded Russel as he contemplated his choices to enjoy some alcoholic beverages at the well-known bar.
From the outside he stared at the glass doors, sparing a glance at the outside chalkboard declaring drink specials. His thoughts wandered back to Florence, knowing he craved the opportunity to make him crumble. Unfortunately, the man reigned champion as Russel sighed and pushed open the glass doors. After a long day's work and the addition of his ex-boyfriend's malicious torment, the brunette failed to resist. He approached the counter after opening the door, the stretch of tables filled with a few chattering souls.
A majority of people arrived at bars for enjoyment between friends and conversation while intoxication claimed him, alas, Russel found himself alone. With a soft grumble, the bespectacled man attempted to ignore the oddity in his attendance.
"Can I get a paralyzer?" The bespectacled man requested.
The bartender turned, regarding him for a moment to inspect his age, although, Russel was ahead of him. He fished out his wallet, displaying his ID to assure no troubles. With the existence of some abilities, a meagre glance over could hardly give the information proper identification could. When satisfied, the bartender nodded at him.
"Vodka or tequila?" They asked, offering the choice.
"Vodka."
With those words, the bartender began mixing the drink. He grabbed the necessary ingredients and began pouring them into the class with some ice. Once finished, they turned to offer the drink, expecting payment from the bespectacled man. Quickly, Russel grabbed some cash. He waited for a moment to gather his change before leaving the main counter to sit at one of the booth tables. Carefully, he brought the drink to his lips, taking a small sip to prepare him for the upcoming intoxication.
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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.