Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

For testing and seeing how things look on the site.
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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Mon May 06, 2019 9:14 pm

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Reyn
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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Mon May 06, 2019 9:14 pm

WE HAVE ACHIEVED TWITTER

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Jhibus
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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Jhibus » Tue May 07, 2019 2:03 am

im going to report you to twitter for ripping their assets
My mum only lets me drink coffee if it's decaffeinated.

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Wint » Tue May 07, 2019 5:43 am

Reyn wrote:
Mon May 06, 2019 9:14 pm
WE HAVE ACHIEVED TWITTER
Hey Reyn w h a t *t h e *f u c k
This is lovely but also w h a t**t h e**a c t u a l**f u c k
“sorry i cant hear you over the sound of me running headfirst into a concrete wall” - Shaw

“Fuck your cloud of blueberry lies” - Fang

“I had a chungus tea once. It was a chunky boi. I chucked my change at Charles who chucked up chunks of chungus chai.” - Ser

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Tue May 07, 2019 8:16 am

it started out as a joke..... I swear....

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Wint » Tue May 07, 2019 8:16 am

Sure it did
“sorry i cant hear you over the sound of me running headfirst into a concrete wall” - Shaw

“Fuck your cloud of blueberry lies” - Fang

“I had a chungus tea once. It was a chunky boi. I chucked my change at Charles who chucked up chunks of chungus chai.” - Ser

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Serenitynightowl » Tue May 07, 2019 1:44 pm

Honestly, that's super amazing.
Just because there's a few clouds, doesn't mean someone isn't there. Some days, the clouds might make you feel alone, but they're always there even when you can't see them, your sun, your moon, and your stars. They can be long distance or really close, and while the clouds can be our hardships and struggles, occasionally there'll be a break where you can see those people, and be reminded of how much someone really cares about you.

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Tue May 07, 2019 3:34 pm

Serenitynightowl wrote:
Tue May 07, 2019 1:44 pm
Honestly, that's super amazing.
thanks man♡

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Tue May 07, 2019 3:34 pm

Jhibus wrote:
Tue May 07, 2019 2:03 am
im going to report you to twitter for ripping their assets
I'm not going back to jail

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Re: Reyn's Big Test House of Fun

Post by Reyn » Wed May 08, 2019 8:33 pm


Name: Quinn Durael

Age: 65 (looking pretty good for it)

Sex: Male

Race: Human

Height: 6ft 1

Weight: 128 pounds

__________________________________________
Description
__________________________________________

Appearance: Durael is a tall, very slender man with pale skin, shoulder-length brown hair, and strange blue eyes. Despite his age, he appears to be in his late twenties. He is always seen wearing some kind of coat or jacket, due to his feeble body being quite susceptible to the cold, and this means that his arms are rarely exposed- which, to him, is a good thing. There is a deep scar that wraps around his left arm, just above his elbow. This is the only scar on his body, which is surprising considering that most of his life was spent in the military. His eyes are probably his most striking feature. They are an abnormally bright shade of blue that seem to almost glow, and there is a white ring around his pupils.

Personality: "I trust you'll find me to be a very representative ambassador. My dry cynicism and suicidal ideations reflect perfectly on the state of our Empire, do they not?"

Durael is an empty shell of a man. There is no warmth in his soul, love in his heart, or light in his eyes... well, not in a figurative sense. For the most part, he is a cynical, sarcastic man, struggling to escape from his past whilst being very pessimistic about the future. It is rare, however, to catch a glimpse of his inner turmoil at all; he has an unshakably calm demeanour and masks almost all of his emotions with an impenetrable layer of cold sarcasm. He speaks with a formality that's both creepy and condescending. Whilst Durael views his skills and talents above those of the people he meets, the same can't be said for his morality. He is fixated on the idea that he is evil and impure, viewing himself as nothing less than a monster. Despite this, it is rare to see him outside of this usual relaxed state.

It is hard to anger him, but anyone who gets into a fight with him for whatever reason should not expect to leave it alive. You see, before Durael became the Selentian ambassador, he acted as a General during the hundred-year war between them and the neighbouring kingdom of L'avendale. During this time, he was known to be incredibly cruel in battle, with enemy forces dubbing him 'the Storm' due to his tendency to leave battlefields littered with the corpses of friend and foe alike. What's more is that, unbeknownst to anyone else, Durael was operating a secret laboratory in which he ran inhumane experiments on captured prisoners of war to further his own magical capabilities. He was a cruel and sadistic man at the time, one who seemed to sink further into depravity with each passing day.

Despite this being the very evil that he regrets, Durael is still infamously brutal in combat. He knows more magic than most people realise; and he's not afraid to put it to devastating use.

__________________________________________
Abilities
__________________________________________

Powers: If Durael is known for one thing, then that thing is magic. Well, that on top of war crimes, sarcasm, and suicidal regret, but those can be traced back to magic anyway. He uses a spellbook as a catalyst to cast magic, but can cast weaker spells without it. His spells come in easily distinguishable 'levels', with one of each type for each of 7 elements: earth, water, fire, air, lightning, ice, light, and darkness.
Level 1 spells are simple, one-word incantations that cast very basic elemental magic. For example, he can cast a small fireball using the level 1 fire incantation, create a small charge in his palms with the level 1 lightning incantation, or create a short burst of wind using the level 1 air incantation. They are quite weak, but he can use them regardless of whether the spellbook is in his possession. The only particularly notable Level 1 is the earth incantation, as it differs from the rest by creating a temporary stone barrier instead of an attack.
Level 2 spells require a short phrase or sentence to be said before casting. They cast slightly stronger versions of Level 1 spells, such as a group of 3 fireballs using the fire incantation, a bolt of lightning with the lightning incantation, or a stronger wind using the air incantation. As with Level 1 spells, Durael can use them without the spellbook.
Level 3 spells are cast by a longer sentence and strike a small (6ft diameter), predetermined area with a moderate elemental spell. For example, a light incantation will cause sharp blades of light to rise from the ground, a water incantation will summon a torrent of water onto the affected area, and an earth incantation will cause an earthquake. The spell's effects are bound by the perimeter that is defined whilst Durael is reciting the incantation; they will not affect anything outside of it. Whilst the spell is being read, the desired area of effect will glow faintly in the colour linked to the element being used, giving a little bit of warning to those standing in the way. Durael can only cast the darkness and lightning Level 3 spells without the spellbook, due to his more advanced mastery of these elements.
Level 4 spells are all pretty much identical. They require a few sentences of incantation, after which Durael will have complete control over the intended element for one minute. During this time, the spellbook will disappear, preventing him from casting anything else or changing the selected element before the time is up. He can only use a Level 4 once every 2 minutes and, as with Level 3, only the darkness and lightning incantations are available without the spellbook.
Level 5 spells require a fairly long paragraph to be read. They are also the only spells which Durael doesn't have complete control over, but they affect the largest area. The maximum area of effect for a Level 5 is about 80 square feet, marked before the spell is read by the same glow as with Level 3. Each Level 5 is similar: they simply cast a combination of Level 1 and Level 2 spells at random (and quite short) intervals at random points within the affected area. This lasts for one minute.
Level 6 (also known as forbidden) spells are only available to Durael in the two elements he has mastered, darkness and lightning. After an incantation about as long as a Level 4, as well as Durael drawing his own blood, a rune will appear on his palm. The rune will only stay on his skin for 30 seconds after it has been first placed. If Durael places his palm flat against a person's skin, so the whole rune is in contact with them, then the spell will transfer. If not, Durael will be temporarily stunned and the rune will burn his hand. Once successfully placed onto a person, then Durael will be able to cast an immensely powerful spell simply by saying the appropriate Level 1 incantation. Nothing can be done to stop this from taking effect if the rune is already present on the victim. The resulting curse causes a long and agonising death.
If Durael is interrupted for more than 5 seconds during an incantation, then he will be stunned, damaged, and unable to cast another spell for 30 seconds.

His resistance to magic is very high. He's not immortal, of course, and strong magic can still hurt him, but he sure can take a beating. As long as that beating is magical. Ahem.

Skills: Durael is an incredibly skilled mage, due to both his dedicated study of the art and the various modifications he made to himself in order to increase his magical potential. Whilst his talents in magic are almost unmatched, he is seriously lacking in other areas. He is physically weak, his stamina is very low, and he is quite slow in movement. As a result, he doesn't really have that many other skills. He can use a sword to an extent, but he only used it during his early days in the military and so much time has passed that he is likely unable to come close to the level of skill he had before (which, even then, wasn't all that impressive).

He can, however, cook pretty well. Cooking is something he does to relieve stress, and he has practised quite a bit as a result.

Despite the weakness of his body, it does come with a few quirks. Firstly, he never scars. This doesn't mean that all wounds heal instantly, of course, but they do all heal completely. His rate of healing is slightly above average as well, and he is able to fully recover from pretty much anything non-fatal, given enough time. Secondly, he never ages. The immense amount of energy present in his body is able to sustain him more effectively than another person, so age has no effect on him. He does need to eat and drink, though. Of course.

Equipment:
Spellbook - And old tome bound in leather, Durael's spellbook is enchanted in such a way that it can hold multiple full-sized spellbooks in one volume, whilst still leaving blank pages for notes. It works in that, each time Durael opens it, the pages change to reflect the tome he wants. The current tome is identifiable by the colour of the eye on the front cover, as it changed according to what is being use. If opened by anyone other than Durael, it defaults to his personal notebook, which contains a nice message on the first page:

"Quinn Durael's 'Do It Yourself' spellbook! Feel free to curse me as much as you want on the following pages, and I'll read them once I pry this book from your sorry hands."

On a darker note, some of the pages inside are marked with blood. Some belonged to him, some belonged to his victims, but either way it serves as a reminder of what the book had done. On the front cover, etched into the leather, is one word: 'Obliviscatur'. You might think that this had always been there as the book's title or something, but in actual fact it was Durael himself who carved it; the tome's bloodstained history is something he longs to forget.

Dagger - Small, concealed, and very rarely used.

__________________________________________
Biography
__________________________________________

"I'm... I'm sorry. We couldn't save him. We tried, Quinn, I swear we tried... but, whatever that guy did to him was beyond our help. Your father... is gone."

Durael's early childhood was uneventful. He lived with a single father who owned and ran his town's local library, and the two would spend a lot of time reading old books together. At school, Durael was seen as quite the model student, and the excess of outside reading he did made him quite a bit smarter than his peers. He didn't socialise all that much, instead preferring to spend his time reading in the library. Historical texts were always his favourites. There was always something so fascinating about the past, especially the history and development of magic techniques. His father was a mage as well, who taught Durael basic lightning magic; which fascinated the young boy to no end.

Unfortunately, they lived in the Selentian empire. Selentia is a large and aggressive state that is constantly involved in wars with other kingdoms. Until 30 years ago, it was locked in a hundred-year war with the neighbouring kingdom of L'avendale... a war which, when Durael was 13 years old, his father was drafted into.

It was months before Durael heard from his father and, when the news did finally come, it was not good. The man had been ambushed by a L'aven mage and had a curse placed on him. He was rushed back to the infirmary in his hometown to see if there was any saving him, but things were looking grim. Durael was not allowed to see his dying father for fear that it would distress the still young boy, but he was regulary updated about the condition. Eventually, after 5 long hours of treatment, the news was broken to Durael: his father was dead. The magic the mage had cast on him was far too strong to be undone by anyone in the infirmary, so they had no choice but to let it kill him.

Durael, understandably, was angry. Not at the infirmary staff per se, but at the killer mage, whoever that was. From that day he swore an oath to himself: to increase his own skill in magic and avenge the death of his father.

So, he began to train himself. He took all of the magic-related books he could find out of the library and would read them every day after school, and eventually joined the Selentian military when he came of age. There, he worked as a tactician, only going out onto the battlefield as a reserve when there was no other option. Over time, his talent in both strategy and magic were noticed by the higher-ups, who offered him frequent promotions until, at the age of 24, Durael became a General.

--------

"D-damn... then there's nothing we can do, is there? Nothing we can do but lay down and die. Damn that ungodly general... he's going to kill us all..."

Durael was infamous during his time in the military. His strategies were ruthless but very effective, he had little care for the safety of his own men, and he would frequently set foot on the battlefield himself to cast devastating spells on the enemy. To L'avendale, the sight Durael's army on the horizon was seen as an omen of almost certain disaster, and to catch a glimpse of the man himself was to mean an even worse fate. To Selentia, he was respected and feared in equal measure. Respected due to his impressive track record and ever-growing magic skill, and feared due to the callous way he regarded his own army.

Underneath all of this, however, was something dark. Something very, very dark.

Learning magic the traditional way was a slow and tedious process, involving all sorts of difficult measures for the sole purpose of increasing a person's magical potential. Even when they had maximised this potential to the human limit, most mages could only master one element and have minor skill in up to three more. Four elements was not enough for Durael. His obsession with magic study had grown far deeper during the war, and it was beginning to drive him mad with a lust for power. Traditional study was helping, sure, but he only knew how to use three elements. In order to master all seven that the tomes presented, as he wished, Durael realised he needed to find a way to artificially increase his magical potential.

Of course, running dubious experiments on himself was a dangerous and frankly stupid idea, but the obsession wouldn't leave him. So, over time, Durael began to take a few prisoners. He had converted the cellar in the barracks into a makeshift laboratory, with glass-fronted cells along the back wall and a wooden operating table in the centre. After a battle had ended, Durael would wander the battlefield and search for any bodies that were still alive. He would then take them back to his laboratory, strap them to the table, and perform experiments on them. Those he wasn't using or that he was keeping alive for observation were kept in the cells at the back and forced to live off leftovers from Durael's military rations.

To this day, nobody knows what he did.

--------

"I... can't see... Quinn...? Is that you? D-did you do this? Oh gods... what did you do to me? My eyes... what the hell did you do to my eyes!?"

As the war went on and Durael's infamy grew, he was encouraged to take on promising mages as students. This went down rather well; despite his tendency to be cold and unforgiving to those under him, most mages he taught ended up exceeding expectations. Of course, Durael didn't artificially increase their potential or anything like that. He just taught them magic the traditional way, since he still had the skill to do that despite his enhancements. He was such a good teacher, in fact, that the rate of progress his students made lessened suspicion around his own increasing talents. It wasn't unnatural or suspicious that Durael was learning far more magic than any human mage at the time, he was just a good teacher!

The last student Durael ever taught was a young man named Robin Hearth. He was taught towards the end of the war and, unfortunately, at the lowest point of Durael's sanity. Whilst no other student was subjected to Durael's experiments (or even knew about them), Robin was unlucky. He stumbled across the cellar after Durael had suddenly run off, and was horrified to find what lay inside. Bloodstains on every surface, deformed and injured prisoners, and pages of hastily-scribbled notes on bloody paper hung up across the walls. He was the only eyewitness to Durael's crimes... so Durael did the obvious.

He took Robin's eyes.

Now, the procedure had some logic behind it. The eyes were linked to the soul, after all, so enchanting them would increase magical potential and allow the soul to survive on its energy. Essentially, having these eyes would make Durael ageless and very powerful... perhaps powerful enough to fully master the element of darkness as well. He didn't run any tests on his own eyes. Instead, he worked on Robin's, cutting them out of the boy's skull when he was finished and placing them back in his own. He did this one at a time, covering the enchanted eye as it healed with a black eyepatch to avoid suspicion. It took about 6 months for the procedure to be complete, by which time the war was coming to a close.

--------

"One word. One word and this place goes up in flames. My work, my research, my sins... my life. Just one word and this will all be erased..."

After the war ended, Durael's drive to grow stronger seemed to fade a bit. His experiments were less frequent, and his kidnappings even more so. Still, it wasn't until he was summoned for a meeting with the Emperor that he finally saw sense. See, when he first heard that he was being summoned, Durael thought it was because someone had discovered his laboratory. The fear of execution sobered him up; what the hell had he done!? Kidnapping soldiers, allies, and even civilians... just to use in torturous experiments for his own personal gain? That was abhorrent. Disgusting. Despicable. Durael now viewed himself as a criminal about to be executed for his crimes and, realising the weight of his actions, he believed he deserved his punishment.

But he was not punished. Nobody ever found the laboratory. His secret was so perfectly kept, so deviously hidden, that nobody had even a remote feeling of suspicion. The emperor had actually summoned him for something else entirely: to be presented with a medal of honour for his work during the war. Durael was shocked, absolutely dumbfounded by the news. He was a criminal, why was he being rewarded!? He didn't deserve this! These people would go their whole lives thinking he was a hero, despite all of the terrible things he had done in the name of power. Durael accepted the medal silently, then sealed himself away in his office for the rest of the day.

At midnight, he walked down to the cellar for the last time. He bolted the door, shattered the glass of Robin's cell, and sat down next to the blind, starving man. They were the only two in the room. Durael sat in silence, listening to Robin's angry, terrified pleas for some kind of explanation. The student still couldn't come to terms with his betrayal, questioning Durael in desparation. When he finally fell silent, Durael simply looked at him, sighed, then explained his motives. Once this had happened, he took the spellbook and opened it to a fire incantation, aiming it at the thin wooden supports of the operating table. With one final nod to Robin, he completed the incantation and burned the cellar, and all its contents, to ashes.

This was not the end of his life. A few minutes after the spell had taken effect, a guard burst through the bolted door. He had noticed the smoke coming from the cellar and had immediately rushed to help. The place was burnt beyond recognition, so the guard had no idea what it was used for, but he did find Durael lying against the back wall. Robin's body was already injured, and the burns from the fire made him almost unrecognisable. The guard simply assumed the young man was already dead. He lifted Durael up and carried him out of the cellar, taking the spellbook off the floor with him as he walked to safety.

--------

"Azuria is peaceful, Quinn. Far more peaceful than here. I think it would do you well to pay them a visit, or perhaps even live there yourself. Say... what do you think about being our ambassador?"

The burns took months to fully heal. Durael spent these months alone in the infirmary, refusing most visitors unless they were of a high enough status to ignore his demands for solitude. To his disgust, they all felt sympathy for him; they just thought he was a traumatised war hero who was caught up in an accidental fire. Still, he didn't tell them the truth. He was worried that they wouldn't believe him. As time went on, he became more depressed and cynical, hiding himself away from others at every possible opportunity. Even when the wounds healed snd he was allowed out of the infirmary, Durael still spent much of his time alone.

A few years after the war, the Emperor had a daughter. This child, Princess Cynthea, was next in line for the throne, and the Emperor felt that she needed an advisor to help guide her. When the child was 5 years old, Durael was given the job. He hated it at first, still feeling disgusted by what he did and feeling as though he would accidentally lead Cynthea down a dark path, or worse- that she would end up a corpe like Robin. None of that happened, however, and the two became quite close. The Emperor passed away when Cynthea was 10, causing the Princess to see Durael as her only father figure. Durael did his best to hide his worsening depression and frequent suicidal thoughts from her, and ended up being quite a good mentor.

When Cynthea was officially coronated at the age of 21, she started to notice that Durael was acting strangely. She knew he was grumpy and reclusive, but he had grown even more upset in recent months and had all but isolated himself for a while. She confronted him about this, asking why he felt this way, to which Durael gave a vague response. He had regrets about the war, but he couldn't say what they were. Cynthea assumed it had something to do with the battles he had been directly involved in, and didn't press him any further.

Not long after this, however, she stumbled upon Durael at his lowest point.

He was sitting in his office, holding a knife up to his throat. The wood on his desk was slashed up, and something was etched into his spellbook in sharp, scratchy letters. There was blood on his hands, on the desk, on the paper of his spellbook, and on the blade of the knife. Cynthea ran towards him, knocking the knife out of his hand and slapping him round the face, yelling at him whilst holding back tears. Durael broke down at this point, crying for the first time in years against the Empress's shoulder.

Cynthea took it upon herself to make Durael feel less depressed. She gave him a cat, which Durael named 'Hour', and told him to care for it. Having Hour by his side seemed to help Durael somewhat. Sure, he didn't value his own life, but he valued Hour's. The cat seemed to only show affection to him, so abandoning it would be cruel. Her most recent attempt to cheer him up was by giving him the role of Selentian ambassador for Azuria. Since his regrets and struggles were focused on the war, perhaps visiting a land of peace would help him get over it. This seemed plausible enough for Durael, who packed his things, took Hour off her spot on his desk, and left for Azuria.
My Boy

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