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","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]These instances were longed for following Peyton’s unexpected demise. He wished to protect his country, yet, in the end, everything crumbled regardless of his desires. Perhaps he should have abandoned everything, stated it would be because of his family. Fortunately, rediscovering one part of his family was progress… The progress he never expected to receive after everything happened. Merely planning to catch up over coffee and listening to her words was a comfort for the undead warrior.
As they exited the TRS headquarters, each signing out, Peyton listened to her daughter’s tale. A blind date, a questionable man enthralled by the bounds of danger… yet as he listened, he realized how much his youngest daughter had grown. Alas, the topic of discussion left Peyton struck by concern as his face dropped. A man who electrocuted himself on a blind date… it almost sounded too wild to be true, or somebody attempted to make a big impression.
Though the mention of horses brought a bittersweet smile to the blond’s lips. How he missed those days of riding horseback through the gorgeous countryside.
“Ah… I wish I was not out of practice for horseback riding, but it feels like a century since I last saddled up,” he began, a sigh leaving his lips. “I hope our horses enjoyed the end of their days… I would love to tend to horses again.”
The frequency of Peyton’s travels left him unable to care for animals and nowadays, the notion of attempting to acquire those lands was difficult. No longer Peyton possessed the political sway of a nobleman to make those claims. Furthermore, tending to them, even if he was a sleepless entity, would be difficult given the requirements of his occupation. There was little rest for a TRS hunter after all, especially an elite unit at that.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]How many years passed since his death in the fray of battle? Everything blurred by in the hum of mercenary work, his actions as a hunter and endless searching. Had anything significant occurred between the large gap between their final meeting and eventual reunion? Little changed between the centuries, rather, the cavalier accomplished the task he grew familiar with since his youth, living the only life the world showed him. Kidnapped, torture and forced to witness horrible sights, he still walked down the road of a soldier, unphased by the violence.
At most, Peyton became acquainted with individuals and manifested attachments with his fellow hunters. For some, he acted as a father figure, as though his longing manifested itself in the requirement. He was hopeful his children possessed better roads than the ones he enthralled himself in through the centuries. After all, his species spoke to his destiny, a clear-cut sign shining between the shadows and blood of the road he walked. Draugrs were warriors, and somewhere down the line, Peyton supposed he embraced the duty handed to him.
"Then now would be a better time than any," he answered. "I should have some down time given how the mission went. Usually, the TRS is generous enough to provide it."
There was a gentle smile that touched Peyton's lips as his hazel hues landed upon his daughter. He missed everything about his family, even the wife he never fully loved. There would be plenty of precious moments where he was absent because of his circumstance. His entirety wished he could have been there for his family, protecting them and assuring their survival in tumultuous times. Perhaps he truly was a fool for deciding to leave and thinking they could cease the changing tides. He strode towards the door.
"Rollerskating? It went that bad?" The blond responded with a surprise softly pressing his words.
The draugr had never attempted the sport, however, knowing something went abhorrently enough to detract another person entirely piqued his curiosity. He waited for her just beyond the threshold of the door, showing patience to allow them to walk together. Fortunately, the cafe was not far and would not require an alternative mode of transportation.
"It should be a little up the street if I recall right," Peyton mumbled quietly in thought.
Once Haley was by his side, he navigated the hallways of the TRS headquarters with plans of engaging in conversation as they journeyed through.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Always a soldier, a fighter, a warrior, Peyton was unaware of a life lacking the woes of combat. Throughout everything, he was trained and conditioned to be a successful champion in the battle without question or second thought. Perpetuated inside the depths of the draugr’s mind, he believed removing the opposition would maintain the safety of his family and country. However, in the darkest moments he sooner threw himself into the fray to protect rather than remain steadfast and beside those he cherished in life.
He listened to his daughter’s story and how much she served. The life of a medic suited the younger blonde. Those opportunities to assist in the mending process synced excellently woven with her wishes for him to cease his campaigns. Almost a kindred dance of if you cannot cease the action, one mends the aftermath of reckless actions. Pride glowed in the hazel hues of Peyton’s eyes as he listened to Haley’s story. Her life sounded intriguing with many travels under his youngest daughter’s belt.
It saddened the draugr’s heart to know he missed her centuries of journeys. The many instances where he failed to find his children throughout the ever-changing circumstances of the world.
“I’m sure you did many great things, Haley and had plenty of great travels,” Peyton answered with a bittersweet smile. “I wish I could have been there to hear about them all.”
The mention of coffee only inspired the hunter’s grin further. An opportunity to catch up over coffee excited the nobleman; a sensation he felt laid dormant.
“I think that would be an excellent idea,” he answered. “I believe on the way to the mission location, one of our hunters mentioned a new coffee shop. If you’re willing to try something new, of course.”
If Peyton held the means, he would have offered her the opportunity to ride again. Their long afternoon horse rides through the trees and down to the beautiful solitude of the river. He mourned the opportunity, however, the chance of something new was crucial nowadays. People fancied different activities nowadays with the modern shifts entering day-to-day life. Thus, coffee glowed as the safest action and among the easiest starting places.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]The brazen, young hunters who gleefully kept and maintained their scars always gave Peyton an apprehensive feeling. In the ancient soldier’s mind, these scars were negative memories from times less favourable. If anything, the cleared skin pallet was welcomed to avoid reminding him of the devastating injuries he received from previous encounters. Already, he could imagine the divisions across their skin, thick and pale from age as they regale younglings with the tales of their epic battles.
The nobleman never devolved into the dangerous flexing of scarred tissue. Setting an example meant preaching to people the safety recommendations to assure they survive the battle. If anything, every scar that maimed one’s body was a demonstration of recklessness and a looming signal to another close call. Fortunately, his decision to care naught for the marks of battle seemed to bring Haley some relief. His daughter always fretted about his well-being and proved it on multiple occasions, especially when he returned home on that treacherous night after escaping his abductors.
Once the tickling sensation of knitting flesh from magic evaporated, Peyton rolled his shoulders. The strange tingling across his mending skin always prompted slight movement in the muscles around the area; at least for him. The mention of the TRS brought a gentle sigh to Peyton’s lips as his right hand perched beneath his chin in thought.
“From the beginning… I worked as a mercenary beforehand and used it as an opportunity to look for you all,” he explained quietly. “The TRS was the next opportunity. My skills were, and still are, rather pristine so it was a sensible option to put my skills to use while remaining mobile.”
There was a softness to his words as he spoke. The number of years the ancient cavalier spent fighting blurred together. The clashing of weapons and spilling of blood ran together as a permanently dyed river, rushing through with haste. Slowly, Peyton slid off the table, entering a stand as his hands fell to his side.
“And what about you? After serving TRS for so long, I was not expecting to see you or any of your siblings in TRS,” the blond inquired to his daughter.
While the branches of TRS were large, it failed to change the fact Peyton never expected to see Haley here. However, her position as a medical professional failed to surprise the cavalier. If anything, witnessing one of his daughters as a medic brought a surge of pride. In a way, those emotions felt nostalgic after spending centuries away from his children. The sensation of pride in their accomplishments was a welcomed one, and he happily remained in it as his hazel eyes glances over his daughter.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Hidden within the sands of time were the people Peyton valued immensely. He discovered one of his children, however, the remaining two proved to be elsewhere. However, finding Haley brought the honourable draugr a sense of hope. Alas, the world was massive with millions of cities, towns and civilizations for people to be tucked away in. Perhaps they discovered a life without the requirement of their original family. The thought was sorrowful, however, the blond would accept it.
Heroics arrived with consequences, and his consisted of his children assuming him deceased and still locked away in the depths of Purgatory. Nobody was aware he returned to the realm of the living. His honour manifested him into a draugr, one capable of protecting those around him and accomplishing the actions he valued. Alas, the separation it created was immeasurable… When he arrived home from the war effort, he discovered their abode taken by another and everything was gone. The children, his wife, everything was gone from a single mistake.
The mentioning of scars prompted a soft ‘hmm’ from Peyton’s lips as he glanced at his daughter. Scars hardly affected the draugr. After years of service, his body was already marked aplenty from the battles of his past.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I have enough of them that I’m not worried about it.”
Perhaps in his youth, Peyton would have showcased scars to impress his fellow soldiers, but nowadays it mattered naught. The endless mazes of scars that covered his body were meagre reminders of battles that were survived and nothing else.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Warmth flooded into Peyton's heart as he held Haley close. Never had he believed in those accursed centuries that he would be reunited with his family. The only individual the blond accepted not reuniting with was his original wife. Their relationship consisted of a civilized friendship brought on by an arranged marriage. They were willing to play the game of pleasantries, wearing their faces and accepting the social norms of their timeline. Nonetheless, Peyton hoped she was safe despite the strife existing between them.
Fortunately, it never changed anything between himself and his children. The kids they had became the shining lights in the cavalier's life. They inspired his determination to survive and return to his family at every turn. His strength derived from them, the powerful fighter proving it with every second. He felt Haley bury her face into the depths of his shoulders. The action only prompted Peyton to hug his daughter tighter. Questions swirled inside his head about his remaining two children, Juliette and Shun.
Out of the three children, Haley was the youngest and renowned as a 'daddy's girl'. Meanwhile, Juliette was the eldest with Shun being the middle child and only son. Her comments about his wound resulted in a soft, awkward flinch. Moments later would she leave the hug to begin her occupation. The male blond returned to the table, sitting back down to provide Haley with a better examination angle.
"Haley?" His voice was soft as he spoke. "Do you know where your siblings are?"
It was an important inquiry for Peyton, one influenced by worry over anything else. He needed to know if his other two children were well, and he further hoped to reunite with them. The mention of the conflict that transpired caught Peyton's attention.
"We were ambushed," he began with a soft sigh. "A group of terrors and AP members decided to start a brawl, but compared to everyone else, I'm one of the better ones. My armour likely kept me safe through the confrontation."
For armour, Peyton referred to the ability opposed to an altered jacket with plating or anything similar. As a draurg, and an honourable one additionally, he could summon thick, durable armour. It made the former cavalier a devastating tank on the field, but despite the ability injuries were inevitable. People could still break through the armour or discover the questionable weak spots required for mobility. Those sections alongside wear-and-tear resulted in the incision on his shoulder during the confrontation.
A majority of his wounds were bruises birthed out of rough transactions battle or battering against the metallic frame of his armour. Alas, he assumed those were considered minor compared to broken skin, bones and other sections of the body. Bruises would heal given time, but cuts and bones occasionally required some additional aid to assure a full, unhindered recovery.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Limbs felt stationary as Peyton stared at his blonde-haired daughter. Astonishment mingled with a bubbling jubilee beneath his gentle smile. Despite the pulsating pain in his shoulder, the male blond struggled to worry about the wound. The sensation was background, numbing out the longer he stared at his wonderful, beautiful daughter. Centuries had passed, and finally, while unintentionally, Peyton found her in the one destination he never expected. His occupation led him to a fortunate discovery, one he waited far too long for.
Their shock was equal, neither expecting to see one another ever again. Through all these years, he thought his children disappeared in the vast world. A land too massive to find those he cherished despite his absence. His daughter’s trembling voice shook Peyton’s heart as he gazed at her. The length of his leave managed to damage those around him. From declarations about his death and the downfalls of Greece, everything changed radically. The abrupt alterations of the centuries pried them apart, his death only cementing the misfortunes.
He promised a return those centuries ago, yet, he discovered himself a draugr, honourable, but undead nonetheless. Travels showed as emotions welled and beneath the tones, he heard the pang of a foreign accent. Alas, from years of dissipating, he struggled to place the location it was derived from. The ache of his wounded shoulder was ignored as Peyton slipped off the examination table. The male blond approached her, reaching to hug one of his children. His injury mattered naught to the draugr, as centuries of hoping and praying to whatever god would listen brought fruition.
Whether or not Haley accepted his embrace was a different question, however, one Peyton was unaware hung in the air. The comment about him being injured was greeted with a small nod.
“Yes, it’s not too serious. Shouldn’t take long,” Peyton explained
The wound was nothing of concern for the centuries-old soldier. Years of entering combat situations left him adjusted to a variety of injuries. Hell had knocked for him before, taking him hostage and showing him the darkest colours of the world. Thus, the damage to his shoulder was viewed as minor. A few scratches, deep, but not intense enough for stitches was minimal compared to what he experienced.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]The chilling touch of a winter’s day grew unnoticed as the warmth of blood seeping into the fabric of his uniform stood out. The sticky liquid glued Peyton’s uniform to his shoulder as he entered headquarters. A lengthy mission resulted in the wound to his shoulder, a pair of troublemakers and a bothersome AP member had managed to scratch up his shoulder. The pain pulsating in his shoulder was not unbearable, however, these matters still required attendance upon his return. Furthermore, operating with an unfit uniform was frowned upon, and his uniform possessed several rips.
Upon his entry into the TRS headquarters, Peyton was hastily shuffled around, being taken to an unoccupied examination room. A long exhale escaped the blond’s lips as he stationed himself atop the table. Compared to his colleagues, Peyton was the least of their worries. As a durable, honourable draugr, he was capable of avoiding the more severe damages because of his summoned armour. His capabilities on the battlefield only solidified his lack of bodily injury. However, the number of injured people was lower than expected given the confrontation.
Quietly, Peyton waited, ignoring the soft pains in his shoulders while listening to the hustle around him. He weathered through worst situations in his centuries of life. A former cavalier and captive, Peyton had witnessed the darkness of the world and refused to allow it to alter him. Minutes ticked forward, the squeal of a door catching his attention. Through the door arrived a woman, one who appeared young with flowing locks of blonde hair. Familiarity flared in his brown eyes as he gazed at the woman, her craned head leafing through papers obscuring his view.
When she straightened her back, he recognized the brilliant green eyes and complexion of somebody once lost to time. After an abrupt demise in the fight for his country, Peyton never located his trio of children. He wanted to find them, to assure their safety, but until today he failed to. He found one, Haley, and it left the question of where his son and eldest daughter were. Through his years of service, he never saw Shun or Juliette.
“Haley?” His voice was soft as he spoke her name.
Naturally, she had questions since a majority of his family knew he perished in the war, but he failed to expect the blunt edge of her inquiry. The male blond understood any displeasures she held towards him for his dangerous actions. A long breath escaped his lips, a sigh as he debated an explanation.
“This… was the best option given my experience. After I returned… from Purgatory this was the best option. I looked for you and your siblings, but I couldn’t find you,” he explained in a quiet voice. “I have been here for a while, thinking I would never find any of you, but here you are.”
Despite the situation, a gentle smile appeared on Peyton’s lips. He cared about his children, however, locating them in a vast world was near-impossible. Wherever he went, he could never find clues to their position. While Peyton never gave up, he listened to the vine for leads, questioning if they survived or not.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Alongside him walked the horse, Feather's steps weighty when compared to his own. The animals eyes drifted about, surveying their surroundings as he freed the horse. Smoothly, his hands worked, gently wrapping the reins around the pole to keep Feather steady. He doubted the mare would leave his side, however, the knight refused to allow a moment of startle lead to unpredictable behavior. He trusted Feather, but exhibiting an exercise in caution for his health was considered a requirement with his present circumstance.
After his recent return, there was soreness ridden in his bones from the torment he underwent. Shaking away the physical trauma would be difficult despite the mending of his flesh. These matters took time and Peyton proved to remain mentally fortified against the horrors that unravelled. Nonetheless, the blond was not keen to discover more unnoticed bruises and cuts from his days locked in hell. The nobleman's hand ran over Feather's smooth pelt, her short hair tickling the palm of his hand. A soft grin played across Peyton's face as he turned aside to grab the saddle.
The heavy object was hefted onto Feather, the strong mare never flinching at the additional weight. As Peyton went about securing the straps and latches, he heard his daughter.
"Wonderful," he began with a grin, "then it is decided."
Everything was tightened accordingly, Peyton checking every strap to assure perfection. Short-comings with a saddle meant a harsh reality with falling into the dirt. Once satisfied, Peyton untied the reins, bringing them back to rest atop Feather's back. In a quick motion, Peyton hauled himself onto Feather, adjusting himself to comfortably sit onto the saddle. Gently, Peyton coaxed her forwarding, turning into the sunlight.
"It truly is a beautiful day," he breathed out happily.
The nobleman's eyes gazed about, admiring the green of the surrounding trees and beauty of the sky above. After days spent inclosed, Peyton enjoyed the atmosphere of freedom. His liberation was a necessity after days spent trapped in the hell of prisons and an arena.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Everything felt back in place as Peyton's body and mind eased. These moments hastily transformed into precious relaxation required by the angel after the harshness of his captivity. A long breath flowed between his partially opened lips, his eyes taking on a gentleness the longer his hand brushed against the creature's coarse fur. In these stables was bliss and the well-needed medicine to mend his aching mind and heart. Fortunately, the horses called for attention considering his long absence from their home.
The confirmation provided by his daughter only allowed for plans to circulate within his mind. These horses would receive their experience alongside some well-needed pampering over the course of his leave. There was no anger within his eyes at his daughter's confession to the lack of horse experience. The duties of the Hayes Family were an endless list, each having their own subset of expectations warranted to them. His leave meant one less set of hands to assure the horses received their requirements.
He failed to notice the minor movements of his daughter. Her reaction to those sinister thoughts creeping in because of the unfortunate circumstance of his kidnapping. Though, he gained full attentiveness when his daughter inquired about writing them.
"Yes, I think they need a good ride," the angel said with a grin.
As natural as his warrior instincts, Peyton grabbed the halter, adjusting it onto Feather's snout. The horse happily obliged, plenty willing to listen to the cavalier's words. Smoothly, with the reins on Feather, Peyton unhinged the latch, opening the gate to lead her from her stall.
"To the river, perhaps?" Peyton suggested, glancing at Haley.
Following his words, Peyton led the horse from the stall, taking her to the stall's side. He tied her reins for a moment before grasping the saddle and prepping Feather for the ride.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]A soft, content whinny left the lips of the brown and white mare. Beneath the gentle hand of Peyton, Feather appeared comforted, bringing her head closer. Always, his calloused hand could sooth the stubborn beast known as Feather. Despite the docile nature of the horse, she was referred to as his horse for excellent reasons. If there were extended times where the blond failed to visit the horse, the individual who came faced her gentle wrath. They would receive the upset whinnies, snorts and headshakes of a horse wishing to see her master. At times, Peyton faced her grumpier side, however, once eased the mare featured a calmer side.
Shortly after her leaning, Feather pulled way, providing a dissatisfied snort. Evidently, the mare was displeased about his extended absence from the stables. The angel's hazel eyes glanced over at the nearby hay bails. Smoothly, Peyton plucked a chunk of the hay, offering it to the brown and white mare. A snort escaped Feather's lips as she begrudgingly began grasping the peace offering. As Feather chewed up the hay, Peyton listened to the words of his young daughter as she claimed to tend to the horses. It hastily meant the creatures were provided wonderful treatment.
"That explains why they look so well," Peyton complimented with a smile. "Have they been rode plenty? I know it can be difficult making sure they get their experience."
He side glanced as Haley approached the dapple grey mare dubbed as Bluebell. A smile played across Peyton's lips, his hand running along the side of Feather's neck softly. A gentle laugh escaped his lips at Haley's proclamation of Feather's behaviours. At the moment, the brown and white mare confirmed it with an annoyed huff.
"I would not doubt it for a moment. Feather doesn't like it when I'm away that long," the blond commented.
The male angel was aware the mare and his daughter struggled to get along. Perhaps a hidden rivalry or jealousy on the end of Feather, however, nonetheless, the pair never favoured one another. The brown and white mare adored attention, her stubborn and sassy side surfacing in the face of granting others the attention she believed she deserved.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Mending the previous sorrows opened from his absence hastily became a necessity. Despite the misfortunes that befell him, Peyton made an effort to smile around his worried daughter. In the aftermath of his kidnapping and torment, it resulted in the melancholic ripples casting out. Nobody, but the perpetrators, could be blamed for the twisted actions Peyton was forced to suffer through, but nothing ceased the torrent of concerns. Fortunately, the calm concept of tending to their horses was something that inspired easement for the nobleman.
Through the threshold the pair crossed, heading into the main of the house and to the exit. The nobleman decided not to bother with the traditional riding garbs of proper britches and strap-covered riding boots. After his long absence, Peyton wished to provide the horses with some attention before perhaps taking them on a short trot around the Hayes property. The nobleman pushed through the front door and entered the glorious day outside. From above the sun shined, embracing their home with pleasant warmth and prompting the buzz of wildlife around them.
A teasing joke managed to reach Peyton's ears, prompting a gentle chuckle. After years of caring for the docile beasts, the male angel was adamant they would not forget him easily.
"Then we better go visit them," he answered with a broad grin.
Briefly, Peyton lifted his hand above his brow to gaze upon the familiar trees and dirt trails around them. The gorgeous gardens in the front yard frequently admired by his wife and the stone fences and gates designed for elegance. He missed every inch of the place he referred to as home. A gentle sigh left his lips as Peyton's arms returned to his side. His hazel eyes followed the dirt path, noticing the stable where the horses resided. The nobleman started down the dirt path, each step carrying Peyton closer to the stables.
He pushed through the doors, his ears opening to the gentle snorts and whinnies of the horses. A soft smile played across Peyton's lips as the scent of straw-filled his nostrils. Slowly, the nobleman walked down the halls, his eyes crawling across the many stable pens.
"It's been so long since I've seen them," Peyton breathed out.
The blond approached the first stable pen and offered his hand to a brown and white mare affectionately named Feather. Gradually, his hand approached, rubbing down the horses snout with a broad grin.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]The contrast in the manners genders was raised possessed a stark contrast. Since birth, Peyton was taught to value his nobility and carry out chivalry no matter the circumstance. Constantly clinging to the blond's back were those beliefs, each being strapped down and hefted by expectation over choice. Meanwhile, girls were expected to appear beautiful and revered in the aspects of peace and love. Even during the melancholic breakdowns, a sad smile was believed to withstand the flood of tears wishing to breakthrough.
The ramifications of his decisions to uphold the values of nobility merely gained strength with Peyton's words. The path ahead of him possessed snaking, thorny vines stretch across the ditches around the road he followed. A single stray and the sharp barbs of disappointment and failure to bear into the depths of his flesh. A single leave and his blood would show his failures clear as a warm summer's day. Nonetheless, Peyton promised what was feasible. He would avoid danger when possible and taking risks that could potentially claim his life.
His eyes remained trained on Haley, the hazel hues analyzing her visage. The lack of eye contact suggested everything Peyton was required to know. A daughter worried and disappointed by the actions of a father who faced death's grips times aplenty. Gently, he reached out, his hand gently rubbing his youngest daughter's arm.
"It will be alright," the blond reaffirmed.
Fortunately, the promises centred around spending time with Haley appeared to lift his daughter's spirits. A soft smile stretched across the nobleman's face as his hazel eyes glinted with joy. The mention of the horses only improved the father's spirits further. The notion of riding horseback alongside his daughter was a marvellous opportunity to promote health for the horses and allow for father-daughter bonding. A natural stir of excitement entered Peyton as he pulled away, his hand leaving her arm as he straightened to his full height.
"I think that would be a wonderful idea," he happily acknowledged. "How about we visit them right now?"
Gradually, the male angel's footsteps carried him towards the doorway. A simple twist of the doorknob allowed for the threshold to open, granting them leave from the room. After the sorrowful circumstance of their conversation, Peyton held wishes to lightened the mood. Everything that happened had manifested a gloomy atmosphere in the Hayes household, and it became time to bring forth the light.
Do not use drama to get attention in the chat. Nobody appreciates it.
2
No advertising, we have a perfectly fine board for that.
3
Please try and keep swearing to a minimum in the chat.
4
All chat usernames should be PG-13 and not break the ProBoards ToS or site rules.
5
A Chatango account is not required, but it is encouraged.
6
Please avoid spamming the chat; accidents are understandable.
7
You may use the in-character chat prior to acceptance.
8
Be respectful to anybody who enters the chat, including guest, fellow members and staff.
9
Guests may speak in chat at anytime to ask questions or get a taste of our community~!
resource sites
affiliates
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.
