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.
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[attr="class","psubtitlebc"]even if you only feel pain
[attr="class","zylanspeaks"]Inside his gut swirled a sense of discomfort as fear crept over his shoulders. The stereotypical depictions of graveyards were nothing similar to the genuine experience of the stone-lined fields and occasional trees. Plots were divided, the occasional possessing the stone-border outlines to highlight family plots meanwhile twisting trees held their leaves. Nonetheless, Zylan suffered under the conditions of the eerie setting, even with his awareness of another individual occupying the rolling fields as well.
Astonishment inevitably flickered in the dark-haired man's eyes as Harold insisting on apologizing. Yet, he was entirely aware of the fault laid upon him. Foolishly, he stacked the flowers beyond a manageable amount in hopes of escaping the cemetery sooner rather than later. Awkwardly, the nekomata smiled, a gentle, breathy laugh rumbling out of his throat as his head automatically nodded in response. Rather than linger further to exchange words, Zylan proceeded down the dirt path in his mission to return to his vehicle.
The trepidation haunted Zylan as he proceeded down the hill. Even as the wrought-iron gates caught him the sight of his night vision. A soft squeal left the florist's lips as he timidly scurried forward, his pace quickening to reach the car faster. Once there, he opened the door, reaching for the final wooden crate of flowers. Haste entered his movements, the nekomata placing the crate beside him to close the door before gathering it up to head back towards the dirt path. Constantly, Zylan's eyes scanned his surroundings, his mind returning to the previous mode he possessed before crashing into Harold; literally.
Though, an odd sense of ease ended his trepidation when his keen eyes spotted the familiar shape holding a crate and waiting upon the hill. A long exhale escaped his lips upon realizing he would not be required to wander the seemingly endless paths alone. The nekomata's feet sped up, hurrying up the hill to return to Harold's side.
"I saw, thank you," the florist offered with a soft, genuine smile. "Yeah, let's keep going."
His scratches burned as he carried the crate alongside Harold, however, the nekomata's fear levels decreased. Though inside a wariness stirred, it was nothing he could not push away. Quietly, he walked beside Harold, thankful to have the guidance of the grave keeper.
[attr="class","psubtitlebc"]even if you only feel pain
[attr="class","zylanspeaks"]Spring always summoned an intense sense of excitement to stir through Zylan's body. Through the sidewalks, his feet skipped as a jovial smile played across his lips. The late spring days brought forth the blossoming flowers in Crow Feather Park. Through the spring and summer season, the flowers in the park would blossom, their vibrant colours mingling together in a gorgeous bouquet. Undoubtedly, the scents of swirling flowers additionally brought his senses to the highest bliss. Thus, Zylan craved the opportunity to view the flowers in Crow Feather Park.
A soft skip entered the nekomata's footsteps as he scurried down the bland, grey sidewalks. He was thoroughly wrapped in the jubilee of his upcoming viewing. The opportunity to enjoy the luscious plants was always admired by Zylan. The young florist worked his present job because of his infatuation with the pleasantly-scented and gorgeous plants. The sounds of his footfalls were a persistent rhythm in Zylan's sensitive ears as he moved forward. The fingers locked in his jean pockets excitedly twitched the closer he got to Lorsette's park.
The wrought-iron fence entered Zylan's view as he closed in on the park. The mere sight brought excitement teeming through the dark-haired man's veins. Quick, his back straightened as the nekomata felt enraptured by memories of previous years. Quick, he turned the corner, Zylan marching through the gates, his eyes already searching around. Every wandering gaze allowed him to view the entranceway flowers, his gaze engrossed by the breathtaking visuals. Brightened petals contained in a wooden, barrel-like stand at the entrances.
Sweet scents of varying flowers filled his nose, blissfully mingling together. A content sigh drifted through the subtly parked lips, his eyes fully softening at the wondrous aroma. The dazzling blues to softer hues of pinks and yellows available in a single gaze. Each colour striking across the petals or fulfilling the roles of a gentle pastel. Even the specks of black were immaculate against the softer colours.
A soft squeal of glee escaped his throat as he finished his initial gaze over some lilies and marigolds. Nothing could elevate his afternoon further than spending it looking over flowers. Inside his mind, Zylan mapped out the flower locations often seen in Crow Feather Park. A set at every gateway and another at the sides of the benches. However, more crucial was the koi pond that featured plenty of gorgeous flowers being planted around it.
Already, the nekomata knew the sights would steal his breath and leave him in pure nirvana. For a moment he gazed over the entrance flowers before turning away. Quietly, the young man dodged the people attending the park, venturing through to admire the flowers planted for the year. Constantly, his eyes flitted, searching for the next available barrel all while his feet skipped along with the park scene. The simple act of a flower-filled stroll easily strengthened Zylan's spirits, his positivity being a reality rather than a facade.
[attr="class","psubtitlebc"]even if you only feel pain
[attr="class","zylanspeaks"]The stinging spreading across Zylan's hand consolidated around the broken skin. The tickling of his finger tips summoned a tolerable burning sensation as body-heat created the face of the wounds. The roughened surface from damaged skin was narrowly noticed. Nonetheless, the nekomata ignored the subtle notes of pain in palms, rather, he focused on the directive. Peroxide and bandages could assist with the vanquishing of his vile injuries. He expected the minor scrapes to go unnoticed until he returned home, however, the man who planned to assist him seemed hyperaware to the fact.
The sinking teeth of his acquaintance, Harold Ziegler, was proof of the situation merely being accidental. An apology left the brunette's lips followed but his reasoning for arriving in his aid. Through every syllable, Zylan bore the stretched lips of a well-curved smile. The pain sensations across his fresh scrapes entirely ignored as the grin graced his face, masking anything negative with expert capability. Nobody needed to burden themselves with his meagre injuries, especially the grave keeper. He already hindered the man with a late arrival.
A soft, albeit, awkward laugh left Zylan's throat. The urge to scratch the back of his head out of embarrassment narrowly resisted.
"It's okay! Really, I'm fine," the smile danced across his lips. "Besides, I have to get the other crate. I do appreciate the help, really! This way I don't have to go back as far to get the other crate!"
There was a gentle insistence to Zylan's voice as he mentioned the other crate. The toxic optimist struggling to accept an ounce of assistance from another individual. While not impossible to persuade, the fake smiles would lace his lips, a seeming permanent affixture. For a moment, his eyes remained locked on the heavily bandaged man. Beliefs of fear manifested from the individual's interesting appearance were proclaimed, though, the cemetery already had Zylan spooked. The bandaged man, if anything, was an afterthought.
"Oh... It wasn't you, I couldn't really see through the flowers, heh," Zylan explained, embarrassment infiltrating his cords. "I should have been more careful..."
Naturally, Zylan kept his fearfulness out of the discussion. He turned away from the gravedigger, eyes glancing back down the path... The fear crept over him, the hands of the unseen monster gliding over his shoulder. For a second his smile wavered before regaining strength. Down the dark hill and past, the wrought iron gates were his vehicle and the additional crate. Far into the eerie darkness of the graveyard's mouth. The young florist softly bit onto his inner lip as thoughts swirled. A disturbance entered his stomach, an empty sensation created from fear.
Light pressure was exerted around his neck as muscles tensed, though he dared naught exhibit anything less than negative happiness. Rather, he sucked in a breath, raked his last courage, and took a step down the dirt path.
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Don't let the line above extend past one line, or else it'll look bad. Also, you can only fit about three lines of stuff here. This is a filler sentence. This sentence lives only to be filler, and to demonstrate my point about length.
[attr="class","psubtitlebc"]even if you only feel pain
[attr="class","zylanspeaks"]Requirements of haste weighed hefty upon the shoulders of Zylan as two floral arrangement orders were loaded into his car. Side by side the arrangements were placed, each in their respective case with the names written carefully on them. Though, the creation of the cherished arrangements entered late into the evening hours, much to Zylan's nerves. As the crates secured and the back doors closed, the nekomata's mind entered thoughts of concern over the location of the delivery.
In daylight, the field of tombstones had Zylan hardly batting an eye, but when consumed by the darkness of night? The florist discovered himself being overtaken by anxieties about what exactly lurked inside the graveyard. Nonetheless, he said farewell to his boss and entered his vehicle, faking a broad grin. Expressing fears of walking through the cemetery during the evening hours would place a burden on another. Therefore, Zylan entered his car, securing himself with his seat belt. The plastic grin remained as he turned the ignition and the engine roared to life.
A simple move of the hand with his foot on the break allowed Zylan to bring his vehicle into drive. Though, as the dark-haired florist pulled away from the curve, he could no longer suppress the frightened gulp. Graveyards always had grim rumours attached to them, specifically in regards to the undead. The type of which caused the nekomata's skin to crawl with constant worries and concerns. The soft hum of radio music accomplished little to soothe Zylan's nerves as he maintained even breath and followed the required routes.
"It will be okay... I just have to drop off the arrangements, then I can go! Easy... easy," the nekomata spoke to himself, hoping to ease his concerns.
Never had he spent extended periods of time inside a cemetery. Therefore, the thought of the spooky atmosphere kept Zylan from discovering tranquillity during his drive. Before nerves could be tamed, Zylan had discovered himself nearing the graveyard. A majority of the drive passed in a blur of anxiety-ridden thoughts and worries of what he would discover beyond the wrought iron gates. Quietly, Zylan pulled up the road to the front gate, peering through his windshield at the eerie darkness beyond. A gentle whimper left his lips as he parked.
Once released from his seatbelt, Zylan left his seat and headed to open the back door. Slowly, he dragged out the awkwardly-sized first crate. As it arrived at the lip of the seat, he brought his fingers beneath it. From the tops of the crate poked out several of the taller flowers. Slowly, the florist adjusted himself, compromising the vision of what was stationed in front of him for floral safety. From there, he stepped forward, feeling the cool autumn breeze against his face as he moved. The arrangements need to be taken inside where they could spend a comfortable sleepover for the early morning funerals. Slowly, he moved, awkwardly walking his way through the large, front gate.
Down the dirt pathways, Zylan walked, searching for the building where the arrangements would be kept. The pressure of fear could be felt on the base of his neck as hairs stood on end. Thoughts of something coming through the darkness to attack him or, Heaven forbid, a terror arriving to rue his evening. Every thought kept Zylan on edge as he walked, steps stilted by nerves infecting his brain. In his anxious analysis of his surroundings, he felt the crate bump against something. A squeal left his lips as he was thrown off balance.
The crate's weight was released from his jurisdiction as he felt himself growing unsteady. Suddenly, his bottom collided with the pebble ridden ground, hands following for balance. Acute pain entered his bottom and the poms of his hands as rocks dug in. The nekomata's eyes went wild as they snapped forward, noticing a man standing there. A whine squeaked through his closed lips, however, rather than being met with the cruelness of a graveyard monster, the man spoke kindly to him. For a moment, Zylan watched him before a gentle sigh of relief left his lips
He quickly removed his fearful expression, replacing it with a soft, counterfeit smile. There was no need for those negative emotions! Everything was perfectly fine.
"I'm fine! Sorry, I didn't see you there," he responded, scratching the back of his head. "Are... you who I was on the phone with about the flowers?"
Slowly, Zylan pushed himself up and returned to his feet. From there his hands made quick work dusting off his clothing. When finished, he splayed his hands before him, noticing slight scraping across them. Nothing severe, but a few small cuts that bled from his collision with the ground. They burned with pain, the roughness of the scrape making the skin irritated. A soft 'hmm' left Zylan's lips, though he promptly rubbed them against his pants, feigning concerns about the wounds. He could always put peroxide on them when he got home.
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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.