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Draka last won the day on June 10 2019

Draka had the most liked content!

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About Draka

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  • Birthday 02/22/1994

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  1. Happy Birthday, Draka! Have a great one!

    1. Draka


      Thanks, it was a good day

  2. The view before him was already lost in it's own sheer size and expanse, ever so close now to another ripple in the stale waters of the time that surrounded him. Similar to how himself was alike a speck of dust on surface of the desert, too broad for the difference between himself and a newly masked Hollow to be noticed in the broader view of things.. He allowed the thought, though knowing well the conclusion towards which such philosophies ended up, that tried to derive sense from a line of thinking that generalized existence from grains in an hourglass symbolizing coming end, to dust in the wind symbolizing nothing. It is the failing of a mind like his own, berated by events experienced along the length of time to have flowed past him to see his fate has tied into a godly clockwork, to negate significance of the subtle changes though he himself was another such subtle detail in the scale of which such scheming expanded across. A controversial thing, to try and be more clever than can one effectively benefit for, other than to be inspired by it, in the process of neglecting the chance to be inspired by the subtle, as was generalized by such thinking. The irony of course then being the ensuing paradox of trying to judge the usefulness of something incomprehensible by measure of leaning to one definite, one extreme or another, that then invites one inevitable choice. The choice on how to balance ones philosophy under the twins of 'faith' and 'reality', to see the world as it 'might be' or to reject for what by the greatest measure of certainty 'is'. His lips parted to sigh and started to close as he sucked a new breath to him, his eyes slightly closing while he raised a hand towards his eyes. Grasping his face by cheek and forehead, he softly rubbed the pale skin of his features while his mind came to bathe in some momentary silence. It was always the small things who's effect surprised him, like his unbalanced mind following from being woken or it's allowance of him to get lost in things like the sensation of touch and smell of Hueco Mundo's bitter desert winds. Stale cold and a vague scent of blood, reminding him of words of an old Hollow that he recalled as liking to ponder on the way of the world as conclusions of things that'd come together meaningfully, purposely.. Endless as was it old, where each new to risen would begin it's walk, as comes heart's end and soul's beat. Endless as was it old, for each to walk it would eventually end in it the same. Endless as was it old, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. For this desert be neither sand nor rock, but degraded flesh and blood. The white sickness of the sand neither moonlight nor age, but phoenix's ash from every Hollow old, in it born each one new to begin upon it's walk. Endless as was it old, for no memory remained, to remind us when was this land without it's sand He found himself whispering the poetic lines as though read from a piece of paper, contemplating momentarily on the possibility suggested. Of course, it didn't really matter, whether it be the chicken or the egg that begat what all had come to take for granted as always having been. Then again, there was that timeless thing that haunted his soul, like a shadow ever hanging onto him, to whom such a thing that maybe just might carry some meaningful difference. Indeed there was some resonance between the philosophy and the shadow, both viewing things by notions of inevitability that burdened any and all to play out one of a few small roles in larger conclusions, blindly and with ignorant bliss. A dictation that itself it seemed to view as being it's purpose and role, that is, to unbalance the flow of the world as an outsider and rule breaker. He accepted this, if only to build a reference from which to, to some degree, understand the shadow's pattern of behavior, as interfered it with the supposed fate that did it view to wrap Draka in golden chains, guiding him on a trial that did it despise to see fulfilled.. His mind lingered on the thought and it's wording for a moment, glimpsing the involuntary shift of tone. "if only", he'd worded it in his mind, as though to express resentment. These moments did somewhat satisfy him, the rare allowance to draw inspiration from the base of emotions he felt only outside his awoken state. That said, the reasoning for this was all the clearer, as giving the thought any serious after thought. Could he rightfully call his fate worse than other Hollow, he who's agelessness mirrored the unchanging nature of himself or rather, the unwillingness to invite change, so much more than the average denizen of Hueco Mundo. An unending torture, but done on a heart of ash, not even the mask formed of a Hollow's lost heart whom carry their human darkness that survives the madness of attempting to accept what the beasts have become. Their afterlife stolen and put to the use of defying others still of the same thing, if not their time among the living as well with it. What madness could they go on and ascend to, if to live long enough to realize how unsatisfying their struggles will be to the evolved selves that their struggles push them to become.. What a vicious circle.. One might say. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another few steps and from over the ledge to the pit the wind was whipping his black coat forward into view, the black fabric flapping wildly while his frame gradually joined it there on the edge of the descent, in plain view of what stood waiting on him in it's depths. A Hollow too kind, in a pit where does their kin give in to the brutality that are they innately born with. Once a human too kind, recklessly throwing away what other of their kin had usually had stolen from them, just before becoming such. Once, one who wanted to be the sun, because Hueco Mundo was too boring with only ever unchanging night, in her mind. "Everyone should be allow to enjoy the sight of the break of dawn and coming of twilight" he was sure she'd once said, if only a very long time ago. Ever the exception to any rule, though never seeking to break them. Rather she simply saw them as she had her life of old, as tools who's reality she might reject and substitute for her own, if were there merely a reason vague enough and time unspent. In this regard, she was opposite to the shadow, whom looked upon the world as though chained to the feet of some heavenly throne. She had never seemed to give the notion of fate a second thought, least none such thought she felt worthwhile to linger on over what was happening right in front of her. Somehow, the world was not some chessboard of bloody conflicts, but a sand box for one to shape one's own corner of as to best please one's senses. And indeed, with eternity to live for, the comforts of the senses was about all the motivation most souls had to gravitate to, albeit most finding a bittersweet taste there as their lust for destruction brought discomfort upon them.. He wondered if time had yet shaken her core and stolen that which made her so uncommon among Hueco Mundo's denizens. He'd stood there for a few seconds already, peering down upon the small figure standing within the center of the pit, preserved by the stagnant nature of Hueco Mundo that left the landscape unaltered, say by the hand of one dweller of the desert crossing with another. Of course, he didn't see the desert as likely to be shaken by this particular crossing, though the uncertainty was worth a small bit of gratitude, for as long as it would last. As his foot slid forward over the ledge, sand gently waved forward through the air as a small sea spray. Just like a spray and how it's wave form is lost in the clash against beach rocks, blurred Draka's form as the air distorted around his Sonído step. The step flung him forward through the air until the tip of his foot set down on the sand a few meters in front of where Minako was facing, the cloth on him that had the winds kicked upwards, now gently falling back to until they once more hung from his figure like a heavy set of robes. As set his other foot down, he continue forward with a slow walk while his gaze absorbed the view of the familiar Arrancar standing before him, like the golden eyes that contrasted the azure blaze within his, upon the ebon background that was his sclera. "Oscuras.. Of all the things to change about you, learning such a bothersome technique is somehow uncharacteristic" he commented from the slight distance still between them, that he was still decreasing in his slowly approach. "Even in the great expanse of time, which touches neither one of us, other than what we do to ourselves." His tone was soft with a certain idle curiosity, amidst the otherwise monotone delivery that betrayed his connection with Minako who stood before him. Even still waking to his old self, that was something engraved upon him more than could he care to try and remember back, except to begin even before the time of his death.
  3. The black figure's slow walk over the sands began to slow a little as coming atop a small dune, shifting his perception enough to make out the change in the terrain still some distance ahead of him. A deep pit in the sand, akin to the aftermath of some great explosion that's become a mark upon the land, somehow never filled by the shifting sands of Hueco Mundo. At least, such might be the mind of a ordinary human, raised in times familiar with images of battlefield, in world of little true fear or tension. His eyes saw something different, reminded not of conflict had between faceless nations, but between mere hundreds of beings like what had he once been. Called to arms, not for the sake of honor, but to satiate the hunger that ravaged the mind of any among Hollow, so unfortunate to choose to struggle through the despair of awareness of their twisted fate. For all that his mind could no longer recollect in detail, the occasional view of places like this served to ever freshen those manner of thoughts in him; of the feeling of desperation. Desperate to feed. Desperate to live. Desperate to make sense of a life built on struggling without more goal than survival. Unlike interference beyond his control, such times were among the moments when were he nothing more than a single self, experiencing the world for what it were. Struggles, wounds, losses, deceptions.. Years upon years of them had perpetuated his shaping of his own sense of self, as imposed they change to a life that by his own whims he would otherwise have spent docile. The need to evolve and change, they were the motives that one could pour meaning into and imagine the future differently as giving into. He cared little for these things, in truth. All the same, he held no contempt for this weakness in him now, for a short time after awakening, of feeling some connection to these nostalgic memories and a vague sense of emotions felt at that time. To him, they were small pebbles that disrupted the surface of a black lake, perhaps one day to pile together enough that shifts the water onto some possibility of change. As was the nature he imposed on himself, for the sake of avoiding to be subject of emotions, to be that still, dead lake that did not flow like some river, lest risk obstacles placed before him by another corrupting his path to their design. Several minutes of standing admits the whipping winds passed without change, before seemed said winds to start to topple his body forward over the dune's ledge as leaned his shape forward and struck first then his foot down onto the angled decline. His forceful step sunk barely into the sand before it get pushed away around it like the drop of an anvil, gliding through the sand by the weight of his form and kicking up sand in his wake as slid he down the height of the dune with quick speed. As met his foot the beginning of the desert floor and he continued to walk, whipping a bit of the particles of sand still behind him, falling the way of his back like a grasping hand on it's approach. As fell the sand down to the ground by the right side of his old footsteps, the unconnected grains moved in unison as an arcing shape, the tip bending against the sandy grounds whilst the moon-like shape bent up from behind to curve over the point of contact and then falling down like snow over the silhouette of a shape, which they clung too. The allocating sand soon darkened from ashen to coal, a crusted imagery of some humanoid form coming up on Draka with longer strides than his own. It's shoulder's started falling apart into dust behind it, trailing it's path briefly before thickened the puffs of solid black grains in it's shadow and then, connected, hanging off of it's feet stepping on self-same shadow and climbing up the length like had the shadow come alive. Coming to it's shoulders, the blackness cast itself over the silhouette's head, it's grounded end whipping free of the ground in the wind and fluttering briefly in the wind before, stretching away from the silhouette, it grew in size and suddenly shot forward to warp itself over front and back of the silhouette to form a heavy black robe that stole aware any sight of the original shape beneath, as became it merely a walking black warp with a hood and long sleeves. Draka turned his head slightly, til caught his pupil and blazing iris onto the shape by the corner of his eye, never stopping to slowly walk across the desert. Ascelepius. Shadow of Creation, or so it would claim. To him, it's existence was the uncertainty that had laid down certainties of his own life for ages now. The being that had pushed itself identity as the 'Reaper' upon him, like an ironic curse to his long-since one certain victory over it's controlling influence. Like Erebus, an existence that had invaded his body in some point of his history, long before he even had a history that could still be recollected. A parasite of the soul, occupying in ways worse than the likes of Vaizard, whom he'd through experiments of old had learned to merely carry dark reflections of themselves. Ascelepius' very essence was foreign and yet had seeped into him like a disease of the bones of his essence, his motives unfathomable and purposely kept out of Draka's reach, same as the true beginnings of their ancient history, beginning supposedly before his existence as Hollow, and still before even that of existing as a human, it would claim. A founded claim, though. Draka knew so, well enough. There had once existed something in a time or dimension far to distant to this one to still be remembered, to set these events into motion that had haunted him since the beginning of his days, ensuring his fate. From human to awareness of the spiritual, to survivor of it, to understanding it, to suffering by it and eventually succumb too it, only to be dragged back into a crueler world still, with his short-lived life and imposed 'play' of hardships only barely allowing him to survive the horror of a Hollow's existence.. In the long life to follow, through the gradual learning of the past that followed him beyond time by the hands of the immortal Shadow, he had never allowed himself the hope of controlling it's essence, knowing the hope of that to be the grounds of failing the requirements that allowed him to not be lured into it's nature, and there, be consumed by it. He slowly blinked, from the corner of his gaze staring upon an empty desert behind him and the last of the whipped up sand grains from moments before coming down like visible droplets of a passing rain. His steps halted only for a moment, scanning over the empty landscape in his wake and the gusts of sand blow across the air by whips of wind. Blinking again, he turned his head and continued to walk, dismissing his nostalgic thoughts to instead project his attention ahead. After all, he was close now to this fresh change on the horizon.. It'd been long ago since he'd pushed her aside, knowing well the results of the disapproval of the Shadow towards her influence on his past self, back when were he much less knowing of the being's designs and engineering for the future. Another pebble in the still lake, but one tending to kick up even after hitting the bottom. It described her nature well in same way, though their time spent both whilst human and later in transverse of Hueco Mundo she'd accounted for much more misshaping of him than would he care to quantify.. Seems this was a time for another splash in the lake, perhaps even to lead to the lake finding some temporary outlet for it's waters to explore. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- As a single wanderer upon the sands he approached, his gaze was held forward, for lack of focus upon anything in specific. At this distance, the lowly energies of her exerted abilities somewhat obscured her own presence with it's ambient blanketed of the area that had her power toyed with. It surprised him a little that she of all individuals would have the discipline to maintained the lesson, regarding the advantage to suppress one's spiritual power beyond the norm of others. Draka's tendency was born of the nature of his abilities, earning his respect for such by experience and setting him apart in how rarely he exerted his power, actively or passively, by comparison to his once fellow Arrancar. What was an annoyance to them, holding their energy from seeping out to degrees as nature seemed to dictate, was a necessity by now to him.. A certain memory of trying to explain as much to her in the past, further made him question what might have altered her values since those times to now. Perhaps, he might yet be inspired by surprises to come..
  4. What is the worst one can do.. Murder, which kills the heart until becomes it becomes as void as in Hollows. Torture, which makes a prisoner of the mind, to the pain of the flesh, robbing it's faint amount of choice. Slavery, which diminishes others by senseless standards and inflates oneself into abandoning worldly values in favor of one's own. Vengeance, which punishes with blindness to consequences, bringing soothing to the self and suffering to those familiar with the avenger and culprit both... Some humans once philosophized that the depths of hell were reserved for traitors, those who abandon the reliance placed on them by another. Perhaps because, the fear of being betrayed, the fear of unseen threats that experience, despite their invisibility, still tells us is there.. That fear, is rooted in truths of everyday life, and so is the knowledge of how fragile trust is to these unseen threats of slights, large and small, that might unravel that fear. Long ago.. So very long ago now, there lived a boy that was made a man by the tragedy of senseless misfortune. He trusted no-one and never opened his heart, fearing that loss of control over what trust he had given to another person, would lead him to suffer. That unreal flames of fear for doing anything, after being betrayed, would burn him away and make naught more of him, but a husk... But, men and ideals, do not mix well with one another. And like myths of old, where does running from fate lead back too that fate, as though by the work of a god's will to keep him imprisoned.. And indeed, he burnt up in an inner fire of the soul - an azure blaze that took away half the heart - all because he forgot that it is not people that betray others. Rather, it is circumstances, that changes what one trusts away from what it use to be. Alas, a fruitless tale, as were any that served a purpose, rather than serving the story's subject. The curse of fabrication. The lifelessness of a focused mind, trying to mimic something chaotic. And failing. Even the subject coming to see the smooth lines of design... Beckoning the cruel question. If tragedy had made a monster, one guilty of many more sins than be the monster worth forgiveness, and were that monster's tragedy a design. Does this meaning something new?.. A glimmer of hope, the possibility for changing by breaking the design, and the fear that such would merely be a wasted effort. Even then.. Either the past is a lie, leaving a shell out of the monster, or, the past is as true as before and a monster is absolute, regardless of choice. A thought like that, exists in a place. A place without walls, but merely dense rock spanning nearly forever, and no doors for lack of one needing to be designed. In a place where need light not be, for there being no pairings of living things to see one-another, and no changes to make an endless passage of time bearable.. In such a place sits one the like of which has nothing to offer, nothing to gift and no sense of hope.. Only two kinds of beings exist merely to be in such a place. Those blissful in sleep, and those waiting. Somewhere, beneath the desert sand, rested a cave. One which walls was made of a black, crystal matter alike that of the black quartz pillars, found upon the surface of the desert. It's floor cracked open in numerous locations in which blue crystals rose, their forms radiating the faintest flicker, alike ever burning blue flames. Near an enormous arc, formed of black quartz and covered in carvings of symbols, sat a Hollow upon the ground with one set of clawed fingers clutching a long staff, standing like a pole and with a curved blade for a flag. Through miles upon miles of stone, a shock reverberated onward, struggling. It's force caused nearly only a grain of dust to shift upon the black wall and fall, while the Reiatsu did not even manage that cut through the odd material that guarded this tomb.. And yet, did something else carry through, stirring the Hollow to open it's eyes amidst the utter darkness. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed as they narrowed with his focusing, silent minutes passing as the Hollow's mind properly woke from the long slumber. The cold blaze of the eclipsed blue suns, that were his eyes, starred into the distance without change as began life to slowly grasp the statue-like figure upon the ground. His breath seeped out between the pale white teeth of his mask, causing tussles of long black hair hanging down over his mask to slightly sway forward. A low snap reverberated through the room as he cracked his neck, brushing a horn over the shriveled gray flesh of his chest. His jaw dropped slightly, instinctual trying to speak, yet his muscles seemed still sore and his throat dried in the cold air, only hissing out a low groan. "I see.." his voice sounded within his mind, his eyes slightly widening as his mind began to connect with the flesh of his form. "How long- No.. Pointless.." His thoughts wandered as flooded his memories too him, soon followed by a sense of his last few thoughts before surrendering himself to slumbering within this place, the home he'd built so very long ago, bare the condensed and rich experience to follow his Arrancarization. Still, it calmed him to waken here, with the familiar site to remind him of the parts of his core never to change. His eyes slowly shifted across the inky sclera of his eye, the black pupil compressing as his returning senses looking off into an impossibly long distance. Towards the feeling that had stirred him from his wait.. Even in this place, were does the cavern rock kill any shock and the strange stone practically block Reiatsu, could some very few things still reach him. Despite the passage of time, his abilities had clearly not dulled, the small fragment of himself having survived the passage of time. "Which.." his voice spoke said aloud, rough like the grating walls of his place. Which indeed. His feeling of intention and this energy.. There was little mistaking her for anyone else. However long since he'd last felt this presence, his instincts wouldn't allow him to forget that presence which he had felt practically every day for years on end. A slow sigh left him at the thought, knowing too well that of all people, his expectations never seemed to meet with her kind of thinking. If he could be said to have been gifted a mind for making sense of things, than surely she'd been gifted one immune to being made sense of. His tall frame rose from the floor with the echo of clacking hooves, his knee's long black mane casting off the layer of dust upon it. The base of the staff-like handle in his grasp screeched across the floor as he took a step into the darkness, his eye lifting to look up with thoughts still flowing about his mind, despite his better judgment. It were for the best to merely ask himself. Her tune, were perhaps the only of which he didn't mind occasionally being lead by, despite his hatred for surrendering to such things. ---------------------- A spear of sand struck through into the sky upon the desert floor, falling apart into a pale gray hail as dropping around the Hollow. His pupil moved to the edge of his eye, looking down through the rift in the rock besides his feet and into the cavern, as moonlight gave some small amount of detail to the massive space hidden beneath the sands. Sliding back over the black sclera, they set themselves on the distance ahead, as did he, stepping across the desert floor with naught but the further outskirts of Hueco Mundo around him, silent and nearly empty. Slowly, the rock he'd broken began to darken to a pitch black and creep together into a mass over the small opening. As faded the texture soon again, the stone seemed as though never broken.. She'd have to wait a little while. Take some time to get her thoughts straight about this odd summons. All the while, his mind would gradually recover through the long trek across the endless desert.. They'd might even have some shared sense of what to expect from one another at the end of that. The thought was barely formed, but a long sigh left him and he shook his head slightly, thinking upon his error. Truly his mind weren't yet woken, if thoughts like that were the first to surface to his mind. The little sparks of thoughtless feelings, like annoyance or distressing tension, that would on occasion try to pull the mind away from deeper things.. ---------------------- It had been some several hours or so, before his mind adjusted to notice. His eyes ran down his shape, the pale flesh of a form from which had come the odd title that had some thought him somehow more fitting than that from which it likely originated, the Shinigami. True, it were not one she were accustomed to. It had dawned on him a few times now, minutes of passage giving rise to distractions as old thoughts came to the surface of his mind, causing him to dismiss the small matter until now.. With a thought, the black of his eyes spread over his mask, creeping onto his skin as in it's wake was left a featureless dark figure with barely a defining ridge to show. The black mane crawled back along itself, shortening until did it barely reach past the shoulders of the humanoid figure still changing as continued it on it's march. Black tatters clinging too him grew into long open robes and sleeves, splitting apart into layers whilst grayish lining formed at the edges as it tore into the shape of a dark uniform. A small bluish gem formed upon the end of the sheathed black blade that had been the man-sized scythe he carried, just in time for details to finish their manifestation upon the clothing of the figure, followed swiftly by the retreating blackness across form giving view of pale-white skin, contrasted by facial hair and as inky black as the black pools he now possessed for eyes. With the passing thought resolved, his mind started to quiet a bit. The desert had little in the way of changes that invited new ideas, say for the minds that would create from nothing, rather than make out of something. His mind saw merely the 'who' of whom he was finally approaching now, wondering perhaps one small thing about the odd meeting. Hours upon hours passed, likely more than he were aware, she'd have waited while he had approached with his Reiatsu (as ever) barely the level of a human. Set to wait amidst these outskirts and it's wandering Hollow, would she have lost patience with the waiting by this time or had perhaps that trait improved in her.. His eyes climbed out of their unfocused stare towards the difference, as had the shape of some pit in the sand started to become apparent.
  5. Happy Holidays to the Community

    I continue to feel that i won't find the time to make a proper return to this site - my first and since strongest lasting experience with online roleplay.

    So, to hoping beyond hope that one day, it might prosper once again

  6. In view of the latest suggestion, in regards to the function of high-speed movements: You can assume for the sake of this suggestion (Even though we know Sonido is used in a different matter) that the entire point of these techniques is to get from one point to another, by using the least amount of effort, yet getting there as quickly as possible. The entire point of these techniques is to be able to move faster, without exhausting yourself. As it stands now, or at the least, with my current knowledge of how these techs previously worked, simply requires 40 speed and a small wc to achieve. But beyond that, there is little to no benefit of using this in battle. My hopes is to find a way to make these techniques not only have a purpose, but be viable to use and not sway their usefulness too much in favor of the 'agile' class. Now to start reaching my point, I would like to suggest different stages of each, that would have a meaningful purpose in battle to use. Something that can have a useful effect in a longer -or in some cases shorter- term battle. Below in spoilers would be an example of such. While the basis of my idea wouldn't be compromised by making slight altercations to make these techniques more 'ideal' for all classes, without making them OP. (I'm not 100% sure this is 'too much' but I feel it is not) Overall, I feel like there should be advantages/ a reason for the movement techs to be used. And I chose this way to make them, because with the way they are utilized, I feel adding to someone's speed with the technique isn't it's real purpose. While I understand that this is something all Race's/ Rper's could potentially have, I feel it would make a unique difference. I'm not sure why it hasn't been implemented in the past, for shunpo to have an actual effect in battle. But for balancing purposes, I don't see why it couldn't be restricted to amounts of uses, or X amounts of posts to be utilized, much like shunko used to be on this RP Site. It's true enough, the exact nature and advantages of high-speed movement techniques like Shunpo have always been somewhat ambiguous, when it comes to their use in the ORP. Though i personally find the Wikia's definition of Shunpo rather as to meaning "How to get from point A, to point B, using the longest strides and consequently doing so in the shortest period of time", rather than having anything to do with reserving stamina (if not rather exhaust more of it, to achieve this speed. Much in the same way as Yoruichi commented her being out of shape, tiring out after having used the technique continuously to escape Byakuya), i recognize that that seems difficult to implement, with top-speed supposedly being reachable without the technique and speed-boosting being simply too pointlessly plain. A notable weakness to the current suggest, though i don't discourage the intentions for wanting to make these techniques unique, would possibly be that the "stamina drain" during combat is a concept easily as ambiguous as that of high-speed movements' function and carries a long history of being unequal between opposing parties in a fight, making it unfit for numeral relations, with the difference in individual perspectives. In the past, when a similar question of what exactly high-speed movements were good for arose in the chat, it's usually been theorized that high-speed movements serve either of two purposes. Allowing the user to utilize their maximal speed, if only for an instance (this problematically inquiring that they otherwise wouldn't, without Shunpo, or the like) Allows the user to accelerate from standstill towards top-speed in an instant, rather than having to build up speed through movement. Allowing generally for an effect similar to the cannon scenes, of users avoiding or outmaneuvering non-users (with the supposed consequence of draining stamina worth the amount of otherwise-required movements for achieving the same, compressed into an instant's worth of "toll" on the muscles). Though i cannot speak for the general person, the latter of these theories have, for the longest time, been my person interpretation of high-speed movements advantage and consequence, as well as the perspective from which i've considered my personal perspective of the ambiguous "stamina drain", when utilized.
  7. Happy birthday dude


    1. Draka


      *Silently stares at gif for a bit* ... Thanks

    2. Mr. Neppington

      Mr. Neppington

      I've been just staring at that gif for at least 5 min now, such a magnificent gif. I lack the words to describe it. And yeah happy birthday Draka.

  8. It's been a slow year. All the same, i'll argue that it might as well go recognized - http://bleachsoulevolution.com/forum/index.php/topic/15398-bse-awards-2015-voting/

    1. Show previous comments  3 more
    2. Mr. Neppington

      Mr. Neppington

      I'd vote for somebody as best rp'er or more interesting story if I found their story to be better than mine, or that they write better than me. Or maybe I just really like their character. Just because I know my own the most and like it, doesn't mean I think it's the best or that others aren't better story tellers than me. And well if the majority votes for themselves, then the one guy who voted for somebody else decides. gg, though I do consider it bad form to vote

    3. Mr. Neppington

      Mr. Neppington

      for your own character. Let's be honest if you vote for your own character on every questions. Then you're a pretty lame person.

    4. OtterAiden


      So far not really the majority of the votes have been for themselves....

  9. Roleplayer of the Year: ChaosKaiz - Notably for his contribution to a year of hardship for the ORP community's activityCharacter of the Year: … Honorable Mentions Elevander Jecht (RP'ed by ChaosKaiz) - Beginning of a tale as long as was it fineORPer of the Year: ChaosKaiz 2nd Choice: Rash (Reese Schlereth) Honorable Mentions Gina (Kasumi Kudo)ORP Character of the Year: Ashikaga Shizuka (RP'ed by Gina (Kasumi Kudo)) 2nd Choice: San Salvatore / Wrath (RP'ed by San Salvatore) - Witness to greatness' rise; Warrior. Forsook it then to fall; Coward. Unworthy to live this shame, let wrath now trample the fear that was your undoing, and burn the mistaken path with sinner's flame.Previous instances of these annual BSE Awards has had certain other categories included, which i myself found interesting. Thought i'd might as well raise awareness of them, if anyone else should feel these awards lacking without them. Fight of the Year: … Honorable Mentions Eximus Nobody vs. Draka Acturial - Father's shame, burdened on his sons Xenegon Bahir'an vs. Draka Acturial - Who can deny the splendor of a rematch. Birthed of a battle unconcluded; carrying with it redemption to that shame Kumo vs. Regashi - Thread: The Game of Life and Death Yoko vs. Jo-Jo vs. Reese Schlereth - Thread: Designation DesolateDeath of the Year: … Honorable Mentions Kensen ShihÅin's Death - Thread: End of the Line (technically from late 2014) - A shadow's tale, riddled with all of what does the shadow hide; truth and lies alikePost of the Year: … Honorable Mentions Gen's 1-post Wonder - Thread: The DamnedFunniest Post of the Year: … Character Quote of the Year: … Honorable Mentions Tale of the White Desert Old - Thread: Where Life & Death Colide (technically wasn't spoken aloud) ~ "Endless as was it old, where each new to rise would begin it's walk, as comes heart's end and soul's beat Endless as was it old, for each to walk it would eventually end in it the same Endless as was it old, ashes to ashes; dust to dust For this desert be neither sand nor rock, but degraded flesh, bone and blood The white sickness of the sand neither moonlight nor age, but phoenix's ash from every Hollow old, in it born each one new to begin upon it's walk Endless as was it old, for no memory remains, to remind us when was this land without it's sand" ~
  10. For OPR'ers currently in SS (Energy surges (particular effect on Vaizards) & Hollowfication instances): http://bleachsoulevolution.com/forum/index.php/topic/14642-eclipse-upon-the-disheartened-night/#entry347375

    1. Mr. Neppington

      Mr. Neppington

      Sorry but I'll hold off until the movie version comes out.

  11. For ORP'ers currently in Karakura Town (Sudden spiritually-natured destruction of an building): http://bleachsoulevolution.com/forum/index.php/topic/11506-ring-of-unheartly-acts/page__st__40#entry347270

  12. Seems worth noting that only shouts involving the topic were included in the image, leaving some holes
  13. Happy Birthday Drakaman, keep on doing what you do best.

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