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!
Mikaela’s hand rose instinctively to her cheek. The bruise had healed, but the memory of it remained. It had hardly been an inconvenience, especially when compared to the other injuries she was prone to receiving. It was good to know Touri didn’t understand how insignificant taking such a hit was to her. It meant he didn’t know who she was and she wasn’t a target of some sort. At least, not yet.
"You’re not an office worker? Are you saying you lied to me?" she asked, eyes wide in feigned shock. It wasn’t a believable reaction in itself so she had to make it seem reasonable. What office job required the skills he had shown? "I thought you were a private investigator’s assistant or a teacher or something interesting like that. Don’t tell me you’re a criminal of some sort! I’d be so disappointed if you were my type."
As the walls began to close in around them, an effect she had no doubt was intentional by the designers of this godforsaken house, she clung tighter to Touri’s arm. It was partially because she thought it would infuriate him, but it was also because she wanted to stay as far away from those impending walls as possible and Touri’s form took up much of the center of the hall. He stopped walking as they neared a worn door. Mikaela glanced up at him curiously.
"It may come as a surprise to you, but I have an actual reason for being at this party. I just got off a shift. Volunteer work. The family throwing this thing offer a ton of opportunities so I’ve gotten to know them pretty well." This was one particular lie she felt the need to make up for later. She’d have to put in extra hours at the Retirement Home. The supposed immorality of the lie momentarily distracted herself from a far more important underlying issue: it had been the wrong lie to tell. Mikaela didn’t really want this guy thinking she had a kind bone in her body. "I-I like to get in the way of their efforts and the easiest place to do that is from within their ranks." She rushed through the line a bit too quickly, eyes breaking away from the hulking man.
In an effort to change the subject she pulled on another subject he'd mentioned moments before. "Wait! Did you think the guy in the bar is the one I’m calling my boyfriend? That’s neither the story I was trying to sell or the truth." The faked laughter came easily enough with the nervousness bubbling in her stomach.
"That guy was just your everyday jerk. I don’t even know his name, I just didn’t like him or his girl. Honestly, why would I date a guy like that? And after that fight with my boyfriend there was no way I’d have gone to the same bar as him... not unless I planned to steal the handbag he wouldn’t buy me and make a show of it..." The thought rolled in her mind for a moment, forming into a cohesive plan for some future argument with some unknown future ‘friend,’ but it was a distraction from the matter at hand so she brushed it aside. "Come on, Touri, you can’t seriously be letting a lie I never told get in the way of believing the truth."
Mikaela couldn't stop a soft smile as Salem mused over his new nickname. She'd never thought she cared what others thought about the names she called them, but a warmth flowed through her as he thanked her. As though someone flipped a switch, the feeling was replaced by guilt the moment she recognized the implications. Hadn't she just been deciding how to mess with him next? She didn't deserve to be thanked for anything. The gratitude was undoubtedly misplaced but she wasn't sure how to get him to retract the statement. She was too trapped in her own mind to try.
More words came, holding the same misplaced admiration. Any trace of a grin vanished from her face. Her soul may not have been dark but her deeds were most certainly vile. It was all too easy to misjudge her, and she didn't want Salem getting hurt when he realized how cruel she could be in the worst possible way.
"Maybe if I was born into a different life the colour of my soul would match the deeds I've done and the ones I've yet to do. As it stands, dear dreamer, I'm the rare case where what's inside doesn't count." The statement walked a line much closer to the truth than Mikaela usually stuck, and it was laced with an involuntary regret. She could try to redirect her life all she wanted, but she was stuck. Her past would always haunt her and some days it was hard to see how her future could be any different. She'd played this part enough times before to know it was only a matter of time before she cracked or someone from an old life came to tug her back under. It was the best she could hope for to seek redemption through her actions in her rare moments of clarity, but even that line was getting blurred in recent months.
Silently she cursed Salem for drawing her so deep into self-doubt and returned her attention to the present. "Very well," she said, accepting terms that weren't altogether clear to her. The only thing that was clear was that Salem intended to hold back, and that was something she couldn't allow. "To make this a fight worth trying to win, if you get me to yield you're free to ask me any one question and get an honest answer." She wasn't sure how much value Salem put in such information, but it was a standard offer for her when things didn't really matter. Her intentions had little to do with granting Salem something. It was more about proving to herself that she could be honest.
Without wasting any more time she positioned herself in a defensive stance, recalling years of training she'd never truly be able to forget before lashing out with a relatively slow blow toward Salem's right shoulder, more meant to test his reflexes than do any damage. She needed to be able to pull back quickly. It would be stupid to let inertia get the best of her before she knew what she was up against and fighting his dolls didn't seem like an accurate way to measure his own skills.
Mikaela watched in amusement as Salem mulled over the word rather than the more important parts of what she'd said. It was admirable and something most people didn't bother with when she gave a nickname. He seemed to be as adept in languages as he was in twisting words because he came to the correct conclusion in a matter of seconds. She gave a short, approving nod. "That's what you are, isn't it? Il sognatore ad occhi aperti. The dreamer with open eyes... Daydreamer might be the proper translation but I think it leaves out the beauty of the words themselves. You have no idea how fascinating that makes you." She eyed him like a cat would its prey, eager to get back to testing his limits.
Surprise filled Mikaela's eyes as he began to deny her terms. Maybe he was boring after all. Just another guy not willing to be intimidated by a girl. It would be to his detriment. He hadn't given up on fighting, though. Rather he was trying to catch her off guard as he began a short sprint to close the distance between them.
Fast as he was, years of reflex training combined with the enhanced speed of her species made her faster. A jab aimed at her head missed by a few inches and she responded quickly, grabbing hold of the arm before it could pull away. She didn't hold his wrist firmly and he could easily pull away, but she was looking to prove a point in the slow build towards their dance rather than cause actual harm.
Her voice dropped to a low hiss as she warned him about his most obvious flaws. "You underestimate me, Sogna, and somehow you let that lead you to speak like a coward. If you're uncomfortable hitting a girl I suggest you continue on your way, I don't like people pulling their punches on me. I'm not a fighter, but fighting for enjoyment is rare enough, I wouldn't let this opportunity slip by."
A slow smile curved her face as she released his hand (assuming he hadn't already pulled away) and prepared for his next attack. "It's just a game, no one gets... seriously hurt unless they're careless enough to slip up. Far less risky than most of my gambles."
She wondered if he'd see what she was getting at in that one statement. It assumed they were on equal grounds and that they'd play fair, as she would ensure it would be. She had more experience fighting against specific arrogant styles more than anything else, so she was quite certain she had the upper hand and she wouldn't be the one to do any damage tonight. And if it turned out he did have the advantage he still wouldn't be getting hurt. For him it was a win-win. Maybe that's why he was so hesitant to play.
Salem's words were pretty, but Mikaela was starting to get the feeling he was more like a neglected child than anything else. He was so excited by the mere prospect of someone to play with, and he was starting to act almost as reckless as her. She wasn't sure she liked that. Even if he had the skill to back up his arrogance, it was only a matter of time before he came across someone better than him and got burned. An uneasy feeling fell over her, one that she pushed away as soon as she noticed it. There was no need to be worried about a stranger.
"With all due respect, Sognatore*, that is the stupidest definition of unarmed I've ever heard." Her words were sharp, resembling a parent scolding a child too much for her comfort. She scowled and listed off her own terms in a non-negotiable tone. They were the rules they would be playing by if she had anything to say about it. "No blades, bullets, or other tools you have any previous experience wielding to bring physical harm to others."
She allowed him a moment to consider the terms before adding more detail. "Needless to say, that means if any of your corpse friends happen to have weapons they're fair game but you can't use the corpses themselves to fight your battle... Not without getting a little creative, anyway." Her eyes sparkled by the light of the moon. She liked this set of rules. It was exactly the type of game she excelled in and it would allow her to really test Salem's supposed artistic side.
Dutifully, she took inventory of the weapons on her, pulling out three knives from their various hiding spots. There was one more, but she wouldn't risk parting with it for this so she left it hidden. She threw the knives aside and pulled her hair in a smooth ponytail before stalking closer. "Assuming you still want to play, of course. I would hate to push you out of your comfort zone." He wouldn't say no. No one ever said no. Not when she approached them with that challenge in her voice. No one was ever kind enough to back down and save her the future guilt.
Ruby eyes, cool as the gems themselves, were trained on Salem as he spoke. Just like that he’d twisted the whole thing back to her. He was an arrogant, foolish man but that didn’t mean he wasn’t, in fact, skilled at what he laid claim to. She wasn’t wasteful enough to think she couldn’t learn something from him. She hadn’t expected such an interaction when she’d left her apartment. She’d been expecting someone that actually had cause to kill her or wanted to use her for information. She doubted Salem knew what information she held in the secrecy of her mind, and she wasn’t sure how much he’d care if he did.
Mikaela didn’t interrupt his symphony, enjoying the game too much to break the rules. He was wrong, of course. She could twist anything he said into him being wrong, and she was content to let that be his title, especially when he wanted so badly to be right.
"I don’t have to be right as long as you know you’re a liar." she shrugged. "It’s all a game of perspective, but you’ve still got it a bit backward. Every lie can be twisted into the truth and very few truths aren’t based on a lie of some sort. Personally I never bother with the truth. People don’t usually believe it from me, and it’s not what they want anyway. They may say they want honesty, but they’d prefer a pretty painting, even if that painting ends up cutting them."
Mikaela hesitated as she realized the trap she’d woven around herself. A simple denial was all it would take to negate everything she’d said. She spoke more fluently in lies than truth, but that didn’t mean she was ok with her words having no weight. She didn’t bother thinking through her example, more focused on the fact that it would throw him off the path she saw him taking in her mind. "You're as guilty of it as anyone else, content as you are to believe I'm some sort of artisan no questions asked."
With that, her procrastination was over. If he wanted to fight she’d fight and let him forget the words that had fallen from her lips before they came back to haunt her. "Before we begin Act 2 would you please define unarmed? Because I’ve met a lot of people with conflicted views on the matter."
Doe eyes gazed up at Touri, seeing the disbelief written across his face. Good. If she ever convinced him to believe something she said it would probably be a trap. His words, laden with amusement, drew her mind away from the thought. She was starting to realize whenever she was in the same room with him her mind would be dragged into it's analytical setting. It was annoying, but necessary.
She reviewed his words mentally, catching on three in particular. Not this time. Had he been dead before? She hadn't been convinced he was human before, but now she knew he wasn't. She doubted it was an accidental slip of the tongue, though, which meant there had to be a reason he'd hint at it now.
Before she could ask, he was sheparding her on into the next room, to a corridor he disregarded as pointless. "Long hallways can be scary if you target the right people. There's an old chinese superstition that ghosts prefer to hang around rooms at the end of hallways. Less people pass by so there's less, come sei dici?* Uh... Dynamic energy." He was right though. This was meant to build up tension, not scare anyone. "Or something like that," she added as an afterthought.
Quite suddenly the conversation shifted into an unwanted subject. Thick shadows pooled above them, coating the hall in an sinuous darkness that wasn't a part of the cheap effects meant to scare brainless cowards. With her specialized vision she could see through the darkest of them. Their depths were unsteady, ebbing and flowing with her own heartbeat. It wouldn't make any difference to a human, but to her it was clear as day. They were hers, but they were completely out of her control as a mixture of fear and anger temporarily took over.
"My mother." She spat the word with more venom than she usually would. She didn't like the woman one bit, but they had a simple unspoken agreement that Libby came before any grievances they might have with each other. Touri didn't need to know any such lenience existed. "I don't have a mother to speak of." The words were cold and final, but she knew that wouldn't hold Touri over. Sighing, she went into a bit more detail. "The woman raised her daughter and kept me an ocean away. She's a relative by blood but nothing more. She has no right to care what monster I may or may not be."
She tried once again to get a grip on the oily darkness. Above them the shadows only flickered. She huffed a growl. She wanted them gone. No, she needed them gone. She needed to concentrate, to get them firmly in her grasp. But she couldn't. Her mind kept getting tugged back to what would happen if she didn't. They were uncontrollable. They were stifling. They were big enough to crush her. Her heartbeat sped up as she felt any hope of getting them under control fading.
She pulled out her phone, using the light from the screen as an anchor. She kept the screen angled away from Touri and checked for any new texts. Nothing. Suddenly the idea of Libby wandering around this party on her own was utterly terrifying. She unlocked her phone and pulled up her messages, clicking Libby's overly cheerful icon. 'It's late, I think you should head home.' She hit send on the message even though she knew it wouldn't go over well. She'd wanted to stay until midnight and the hour wasn't near. She steadied her breathing and dropped the cloak of shadows around them before flicking the phone off.
In a move she was pretty sure would get her killed, she stepped in close and clung to Touri's arm. She had promised to play the part of a damsel in distress. "I think you've got my relationship with my boyfriend all wrong. I didn't seek him out, I was set up with him. And abusive as he may be, you don't get to comment on someone you've never met. Also, he's not my ex. He finally bought me that handbag." She paused and glanced up at him. "No reason to worry, though. That one's not local so he won't catch wind of this little act."
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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.
