S P R O C K

Member
  • Content Count

    688
  • Joined

  • Last visited

About S P R O C K

  • Rank
    Venom

Basic Information

  • Sex
    Male
  • Location
    Puerto Rico
  • Bio
    The big brain am winning again! I am the greetest! Now I am leaving Earth for no raisin!
  • Characters
    Goe'dar | Aevelm | Covael | Augustus

Recent Profile Visitors

6331 profile views
  1. I hope no one steals your shit in puerto rico and coronavirus doesnt infiltrate u bby

    1. S P R O C K

      S P R O C K

      im 1000 feet tall and unstoppable, the coronavirus cannot touch me

    2. Sorum

      Sorum

      can i infiltrate u like corona but instead of the lungs, your nono-spot?

  2. Scottie. I’m here to confess my love for you.

     

    I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, some days after your death in what was the most bizarre case of a duck drowning a human being. I say the most bizarre case because, as we all know, you’re danish. Danes have, on average, enough upper body strength to wrestle three ducks into submission, but I know not why or how, this duck managed to not only gain the upper hand but also utterly annihilate you.

     

    The question that burns at the forefront of all of our minds is why, Scottie? Why did you allow this duck to defeat you? Was there anything we could’ve done to stop it? A pit forms at the very bottom of my stomach, a coagulate of despair and regret; misgivings and false hopes... It is a black tar which, with every passing moment, climbs ever closer to my broken, yearning heart until it has fully enveloped it. I wish, Scottie, that I understood. I wish that I had said all of this before, so that you could read this and see that I cared.

     

    That I wanted you to defeat that duck.

     

    That I loved you.

     

    But now you’re gone, and I’m cursed to live on in a world of ‘what ifs’ and ‘I should’ve’, a world without you. A world that churns on, not knowing what it’s missing. I’ll miss you Scottie... And I’ll never love anyone quite as much as I loved you.

     

    if it’s any consolation, I’ve killed the duck that murdered you. It’s hung up on my mantle, alongside the picture of our spring break 2014, you know the one of course! Where the sun is shining off of your sweat-laden muscles, making them glisten in just the right way? It was a nice one. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone.

     

    With love, Sprockamite

    1. Skohtea

      Skohtea

      I have several questions but I think it is best to leave them unanswered.

       

      This is however quite hilarious.

  3. S P R O C K

    Arkanford

    Operations will begin anew... The post has been updated with brand new explanations for new ranks, new art assets and a little more! Enjoy!
  4. Sprockamite, I wish to admit everything, ever since that fateful christmas morning...I could never forget your words to me. "Sindoh, never forget, women and relationships may be temporary, but you know what is eternal? The new mobile game taking the world by storm! Raid Shadow Legends is one of the most ambitious RPG projects of 2019 has just been released and will change everything. Just look at the level of detail of these characters! If you use the code 'Embrysian' you can start with 50,000 silver and join the Special Launch Tournament, and you better hurry because it's getting big fast! You can play for totally free with the link below on your smartphone." And those are words I live by.

     

    I love you, Sprockamite. Please come back to us.

     

  5. Sorum, I want to come clean about my feelings. I love you. I'm not joking, I really love you. I think about you every day. It's fucking painful, Sorum. I'm constantly wracked by guilt that I did not protect you. I cannot believe you died in a freak RC helicopter accident that also wiped ten percent of your bloodline. I wish I had done more, Sorum. I wish I was a better man. I wish I could hold you in my arms, today... But alas. We are the solemn souls that survive, we unlucky few, to deal with the guilt and sorrow of living on without the person that you love.

     

    Rest in peace, Sorum. I love you.

    1. Nomit

      Nomit

      This opened some old wounds. Let's all take a breather and be sure to practice safe RC helicopter practices as well as follow all of the RC helicopter (and drone for that matter) safety instructions as per OSHA regulation. The rules are there for a reason, folks!

    2. Be Rad

      Be Rad

      Very hard read. Miss you everyday Sorun, every time I hear the whirring sounds of an RC helicopter outside my window I get a cold sweat. My entire existence feels like it's being ripped out of this world and the only thing I can think about is Sorun. Sorun and all of his wonderful half elves.... Their witty quips and desirable bodies! Please be safe during these trying times, everyone, and never pick up the controller without thinking first.

       

      RIP

    3. Sorum

      Sorum

      I saw a dog today, 5/7/2020

  6. S P R O C K

    yea

    jesus scottie why you gotta bool on nomit like that please my man calm down
  7. S P R O C K

    yea

    Has anyone seen sorun I miss her
  8. (I got bored and wrote a thing. Enjoy, if you want.) Like Every Other Man The morning was like any other, the incessant chirping of an artificial bird had woken Aevelm some time ago… But he felt his body heavy, his eyes were open, staring into the barely illuminated ceiling of his transdimensional home. Like every other man, he didn’t want to get out of bed, every morning… But that incessant chirping… Deflating patience saw him stood, sluggishly pacing towards the wall-mounted timepiece. A moment later the room fell back to silence and Aevelm managed a sigh of relief. After the chirping, the mornings were far less noisy but no less difficult to come to terms with. Every day brought the same, tired routine. Aevelm found himself staring into the mirror yet again. A messy head of curled, platinum hair and dark green eyes looking back at a man that they hardly recognized anymore. His eyes drifted down, shirtless as he was, a black lichtenburg figure was exposed crawling up the length of his torso, expanding towards his neck as if it were trying to choke him. A grim reminder of times long passed. Like every other man, Aevelm had regrets. He knew failure… And he felt as though he knew it just a tad bit too well. His eyes flashed back towards themselves. “Stop.” There was no one else in the room and yet, he spoke aloud. “You’re pitying yourself. You’re losing your grip. Every day.” He continued, a scolding tone. It may not have seemed the case, ever, but like every other man Aevelm Embrysian too questioned himself. He needed reassuring. Like every other man, Aevelm Embrysian felt the betrayal of those around him. In the mornings, especially, when he was most vulnerable. When he felt like he could just stay in bed and let the world burn around him. The mornings. They were the worst of it all. “Stop.” He reiterated, eyes filling with tears. This was when it all came to him, in these small hours that were so dolorously lonely. His children yet slept, his friends did not live with him and his guild was not yet important. It had been some time since he let himself feel this. Against his requests, the tears began to flow, down his cheeks. He began to suffer of an overflow of nostalgia, the good things, the bad things all came back to him as he, briefly, let down his emotional barriers and let himself feel as he had all those years ago. It began as far back as Dalaran. As the days he met Renault Xavier and Maria De Layle. Two people that he had failed. As the tears streamed down his cheeks, the memories streamed- Almost in tune with his sobbing- to his mind. Sixteen summers. A friend in Renault and a crush in Maria. The friend turned brother, the crush turned romance. Renault was the first memory, a long and difficult relationship between two wizards of great power. Xavier’s legacy was now Aevelm’s charge, his progeny, his labors, his memory. They were his responsibility now. And sure, Aevelm raised statues in honor of the brother he once had, but never did he truly let himself feel the depths of his regrets. As his thoughts raced, he remembered the phrase, “Take care of my things, Embrysian…”. It had been an odd phrase at the time… In hindsight, it was so fucking obvious. A week later, a courier with a grim look on his face brought the news: Renault Xavier had perished… But not in vain. He carried a bundle of cloth, a familiar face… His daughter, Caitlyn. An exchange with the demon, Seris. A life for a life. The thought dragged him away, to another… Another that he had also failed. The woman with many names. Selsie Thorton, the great betrayer. Esilen North, a sister and a friend. Seris, The Infinite, a great enemy. Redd, a stranger with a familiar face. Aevelm would never admit it. But a great anger had been boiling within him over the past years… A sickening cocktail of frustration, humiliation, regret and rage. The alchemy of error had become the rule of law in his life and every step seemed a mistake, every time he proceeded forward, a friend died. A life was taken. A connection severed… He was letting himself feel, for once, so that too would be embraced. A fist lashed out, smashing into the mirror before him. The reflection crackled. In the cracks, he witnessed those memories. After Selsie Thorton had, in her hubris, summoned a pit lord to the battle of Stonewatch, she was branded a traitor. Renault, tasked with hunting her, engaged in an epic struggle within the Tower. Alongside Kyle, Aevelm fought her minions until they were defeated. Unfortunately, she escaped. It was Renault, whose paranoia controlled him, that warned against becoming contented. She would return. To Renault’s dismay, however, Selsie Thorton only returned in a casket. Dead as any other corpse. This was the end of that… Or was it? Esilen North. She was the next name that Aevelm knew her by… In truth, her disguise was shoddy at best, her attempts to hide herself, extremely easy to pierce. She was a masterful warlock, but an absolute dunce when it came to the craft of lying. And yet, Aevelm Embrysian, like every other man… He was easily swayed by a pretty face and full bust. He allowed himself to forgive her. A good thing came of this, friendships flourished and House Stahlbrad grew; she taught his students and they became good allies. Esilen was a constant throughout it all… His lowest lows, when he had been bedridden with illness… To his highest highs, when his eyes were-- As they are now-- filled with tears, albeit those came from a place of joy whereas these come from a place of sorrow. Aevelm’s teeth began to grit. Like every other man, he hated remembering these things. Esilen was dead. He had failed this one, too. If he had been more attentive, if he had been more like Renault… He could have avoided her corruption, her doom. Aevelm felt especially responsible for every step in Esilen’s life: His forgiveness brought her closer to society. His own marriage brought her to romance with Alleyah. His obliviousness saw her mourning alone. As the Covenant fell to pieces, Aevelm was focused only on one thing… It wasn’t Esilen’s fall, or Aisa’s unhealthy attachments. It was Hannah. Hannah Embrysian, his second wife; a woman that had been his apprentice, later his lover, later his wife and finally the mother of his twin children. Talenel’Elin and Caitlyn. This was his family, following the untimely deaths of those that came before them. Hannah and Aevelm were inseparable for a time, a true romance that would’ve stood for years to come, had it been allowed to. That’s what Aevelm liked to tell himself, his fist still pressed against the cracked glass. Blood was beginning to seep between the cracks, his eyes were shut now and his mind focused on an image, an image of her face… But there was nothing. He couldn’t remember her face. Out of a long list of things that, like every other man, Aevelm hated himself for… This was perhaps the most egregious. He would never admit it, not to Ainsley, not to Bertren, not to anyone… He couldn’t remember what Hannah looked like. The woman that had brought him years of happiness, kisses filled with passion and sex unlike any other… Was just a formless splotch in his mind. Bright, blue eyes… A flat chest and a nice ass, that was it. That was Hannah, to him, now. The tears began to flow with more intensity. The sobbing had grown louder, the fist in the glass turned to a flat palm, the blood dripped from the bottom to the sink below. Another hand came up to his face, coming over his tortured features. Why couldn’t he remember that woman’s face? That woman that he had so dearly loved? The memory of his proposal, at the ball, a moonlit night over her features… But instead of a face, he saw her long locks of raven-like hair covering it. The sounds were so ingrained in his mind, the way that his hand had trembled nervously as he gripped the encased ring. The way that Bertram was stood around a corner, believing he was unseen, watching. The way that the waves met the stony shore below, spraying the balcony they stood upon with a comfortable amount of misty droplets. The taste of her mouth, the passion of the kiss that had followed her overjoyed, positive answer. But her face was yet a mystery to him. It baffled him. A man that could precisely remember passages from books he had read dozens of years ago, retell entire paragraphs without paraphrasing a single word, without issue remembering the specific page number and how many paragraphs down the sentence was… If there were any mistakes in the text. And yet, he couldn’t remember the most important detail of his life. He could even remember, specifically: That ball was a masquerade… She had taken her mask off, just to kiss him. But he couldn’t piece the puzzle together in his mind. Her face was just... A broken mosaic, undone by time and grief and pain... It was agonizing. Nothing in his life had compared to that odious, pervasive pain that gripped at his chest whenever he thought of it. Like, wherever she was, she knew he had forgotten her face. But that was worst part of it all, wasn’t it? He had searched for her for so long, after her disappearance. He had no idea why. No idea where she had gone. But she had left him with two kids to raise… Two beautiful children, who grew and began to ask, “Papa, where is mama?”. That boiling anger returned. That sorrow that he had felt, that he had forgotten her face, it all came back to this anger. She abandoned him, for unknown reasons, and now he had to stand there and tell his children that she was dead. He didn’t know for certain, but wherever she was, she was as good as dead to him… Or so he told himself... Aevelm, like every other man, couldn’t truly hate someone he loved. He talked a big game of it, but the truth was… Despite the anger, the sorrow… If Hannah ever came back, he could not hate her. There was only love for her, in him. He looked back at himself, the cracked mirror, the blood that dripped… And it reminded him of something else. After all of this, after Esilen’s betrayal and Renault’s death. There were darker times still. Malfegor had come. Already in turmoil, this binary conflict gave Aevelm a previously unfound purpose. He gathered his allies, armed his forces and went to war without care that he might lead them all to their deaths… And lead them to their deaths, he did. The first was that girl, the gunman, whose life was forfeit after Malfegor had devoured her hands. If Aevelm had never involved himself in that conflict, that girl would have never been placed in harm’s way… But the more significant of his losses wasn’t her. She was a point of regret, but she yet drew breath... The loss of Donny, though, was not just regretful… It was costly. Araghan the Pillager was the demon’s name. Maltharesh’s camp was the location. They had just finished some foray into an irrelevant demon’s domain… Malfegor, in his depravity, seized an opportunity to catch the United forces in repose. The battle was of epic proportions… But, ultimately, the trades made there were entirely uneven. Fated as it was, Donny had fallen in combat alongside the pit lord. Maltharesh was captured. It should have been him. It should have been Aevelm. Again that rage began to rise, this time accompanied not by wailing, but by steady, albeit heavy breathing. He stared at that cracked image of a broken man. Dark green eyes meeting one another like twins glaring at one another. Aevelm should have been there. But he wasn’t. “But you weren’t!” He screamed at himself. “But you…” The sobbing interrupted him. It had come back to this again. His eyes were swelling, the sink below had been marred by mucus, blood and tears now… “But you weren’t…” Aevelm’s forehead rested against the cracked mirror. It hurt, but it gave him a good view of the things between all of these sorrows. Between all of these horrible events. In this strange, dreamscape view of those cracks, he saw the good times in the interim. He saw jokes, drinks and parties. He saw smiles and happiness… He saw Donny’s face, Bertram and Slizz. He saw Oryn, Nautsu... Maltharesh, too. He saw Sul and Taveth and Daniel. Mirae, Celestia and even Haqua. He saw Galleron, before his unfortunate demise, he saw Esilen and Leiysha. He saw shenanigans and pranks, the times spent in House Wolfheart. He saw the productivity of a business union between himself and Aisa’dora. He saw Mr. Harrington, wearing his stylish hats. He saw the chocolate warrior, Bertren… He saw Drachmore and his son, Tiber. He saw Taln and Cait. Like every other man, Aevelm had reasons to smile, reasons to frown… And as he pulled himself from that mirror, he returned to that same, tired routine. Aevelm brushed his teeth, washing away the blood that had gathered at the sink. He weaved the cracks of the mirror together, magically. Aevelm ran a comb through his hair, pulling it back into his traditional foxtail for Methalore. Aevelm took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror again… And he saw not the man that had been there before, but a man who was going to save the world. That was him. Sir Aevelm Embrysian, the man that would save the world. Confident, stalwart and heroic. A bit odd, sure and… Maybe even rough around the edges, but ultimately… That foretold savior. As he stepped down the stairs, fully garbed in his usual regalia… As he woke his children and left them to their respective tutors… As he forged onward into a new day, another battle against the Legion… He tried, once again, to recall that face… And realized it did not matter. It was time to move forward.
  9. S P R O C K

    Arkanford

    Howie's carefully curated memes are a necessary part of life. Update: Changing the guild post today, to update a few things and clarify others.
  10. For those who can take the Horn of the Nightmare Lord, are we allowed to take an item in addition to that one, or?