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I am the TMG. I leave and return twice a year, or so it seems. I like to write and I love music. Yeah.
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al'Lan Mandragoran
25 years old
Inside your mind
Born Oct-24-1991
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Joined: 5-March 06
Time Online: 22d 3h 49m 0s
Profile Views: 12,685*
Last Seen: 6th July 2012 - 04:43 PM
Local Time: Oct 22 2017, 03:58 AM
1,837 posts (0 per day)
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Current Mood: TMG-y
FETO Profile

RP Data
My Content
8 Sep 2009
Dedicated to the FETO Blast (IMG:style_emoticons/blue/awesome.gif)

Dwayne Pennant did not have a typical American childhood. His parents, renowned gardeners George and Gina Pennant, made sure of that. From the very start they decided that their boy would grow up without any violent tendencies or unhealthy habits, or, as his mother said, "testosterone-fueled illusions." He was taught that animals are friends- not food, and his diet consisted entirely of organic vegetables and seasoned tofu. He was not allowed any sort of remotely violent toys. While his peers ran around with their water guns, squirting and drenching each other in mock battles, he sat quietly behind a safe picket fence and read Jane Eyre. While his friends made up imaginary conflicts for their "G.I. Joe" figures, he tried to decide whether or not his "Ken" would become a doctor or a lawyer (he had already decided that he would be married to Barbie, though). By the time he reached high school, these same friends were beginning to wrestle and play football, and his mother decided that he needed a hobby as well. She taught him a skill that she'd long had an interest in, and had made a job out of before her gardening days- cutting hair. He quickly mastered this, as well as other stereotypically feminine tasks that his mother taught him as enthusiastically as she would have taught the daughter she'd always wanted. By age 16, Dwayne was a vegan, pacifist, gardener, chef, haircutter, knitter, and very unsatisfied.

All of this changed with his parents' unexpected divorce later that year. After an extremely odd hearing, it was decided that he would not stay with either of his parents, but went to live with his uncle John in Detroit. John was a policeman, avid hunter, and renowned for his ability to drink alcohol and scratch his almost furry stomach at the same time (or perhaps, not known for it, but he possessed the skill nonetheless). Living with John, he felt as if an entirely new part of him had been opened up, and he saw the world with different eyes. After seeing his uncle's police work and joining him in such activities as hunting, boxing, and eating gratuitous amounts of protein, he decided that the world needed two things- less crime, and more unadulterated manliness. Dwayne set out to kill two birds with one stone, fighting crime with his massive muscles as The Maleman, defeating the forces of evil in a decidedly masculine way. He met with little success at first, becoming a bit of a laughing stock in the media, and was happy that he concealed his identity. However, he stuck with his goal, and by age 25 he was considered by all a force to be reckoned with, wielding Herculean strength and a relentless attitude. Despite being a bit of a vigilante, he is known for working within the law, largely due to the influence of his uncle. The Detroit men-in-blue have come to know what it means when a criminal is left on the doorstep of the Police Station, tied up and cowering in a fetal position- The Maleman was there, and this criminal has just been enlightened by the terrifying face (and arms) of pure manhood.
20 Aug 2009
Sorry, I was experiencing computer issues xD I'm back now.
13 Aug 2009

After Van went to his tent and started snoring, Gilmoria walked up to Jadron, but when she got there, she didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. She was usually so direct when she spoke. Now she couldn't find her voice, and looked at his feet. "I...," She began, nervously grabbing her right elbow.

Gilmoria imagined that she had never looked so vulnerable as she did now. "I... Jadron... I have... no idea how I can... repay you," She stumbled through the sentence. She had looked at his face when she said his name, but looked away afterwards. "Do you... know?"

Jadron was not sure how to respond. This woman is in my debt! She isn't as much an ingrate as I thought... And, as his thoughts usually went, they became an argument. I am a holy man! I do good for good's sake, not to be repaid! "You don't need to repay me, Gilmoria. It is my honor to help others." The answer sounded so bland, so recited. Jadron smiled meekly to show some authenticity. "Your gratefulness is enough."

Gilmoria didn't know what to say. This was probably the first time in her life that she was rendered speechless by someone other than herself. And she didn't care. She was grateful, yes, but that didn't seem like enough. She looked at his face with an expression of wonder. How could something immaterial be enough? "How is that enough?" she said softly.

"I do these things for Vhiliu's sake. I've learned that truly sincere goodness cannot be for personal gain." Jadron's smile didn't waver on his face, though inwardly it did, a little. Not from insincerity, but from feeling that his answers were weak. He truly meant them, but they were the same things that the hypocritical Vhilists said. The ones who killed "Children of Asphyra" in the night as an ongoing, undeclared holy war.

"That's what... the hypocrites say...," she said, confused, looking down. "But..." Gilmoria pressed herself to him and shuddered violently, a tear of fear rolling down her face. "They would have... hit me. Killed me." Her hands were gripping his somewhat loose robe with a vice-like grip. She held on like... like Jadron were a fleeting, ephemeral dream that she had once wished for, but knew couldn't be true. She looked into his concerned eyes, not quite aware that her face was marred by unseemly tears.

It was all very strange to Jadron. Here he was, a monk, with no memory of romance, staring into the eyes of a crying woman. She looked at him as though he didn't exist. She obviously wanted some kind of support. He hesitantly put his hands on her shoulders. Only to comfort her! I mean nothing by this! But he wasn't sure he believed himself. Putting aside his inner turmoil, he tried to answer her about the hypocrites. "I try, over all things, not to be one of them. But I fear sometimes I am. I was raised by bad, bad people, Gilmoria... people who assassinate in the name of Vhiliu and think nothing of it. It's holy to them. Worship. I've left them all behind. I don't even want the dust of that church on my sandals. But they follow me. That is, they threaten me and don't leave me alone, but that's not the worst of it. Their attitude is ingrained in me. Deep, where I can fight it, but so deep that it won't go away easily. I'm terrified of it."

Gilmoria listened as Jadron told her about his fear. He would have already guessed hers. Death. His fear was... overzealotry? She considered it for a moment, drying her tears in her robe. I suppose that it is a legitimate fear... Especially if you don't want to be what you are... "I... think I understand... You want to be something that you can agree with. Something that you can't... despise." The mage felt a smidge of guilt for that remark earlier. She put on a small, guilty smile, looking at his chest. Her grip had loosened. Her hands were resting on his chest, on either side of where she was looking.

This is quickly becoming something more than comforting each other, and each of us knows it. Jadron moved reluctantly away from Gilmoria's hands, and stood up, still smiling. "I am truly exhausted from the combat of earlier today... I must rest. Good night, Gilmoria. You have taught me much about myself." He wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but he meant it.

When he moved away, the sorceress had to restrain herself from moving with him. When she realized this, Gilmoria hid her shock. "I understand. I should, as well. Good night," she said, making a small wave. What's gotten into me? I don't understand.
29 Jul 2009
Paint? Write? Draw? Take pictures? Splatter mud on a wall and call it art? Proceed to post this pretentiousness on deviantART.com? This is the place for you!

Basically, just a place for the exchange of deviantart profiles so that we starving artists can keep tabs on each other (IMG:style_emoticons/blue/grin.gif) Post a link to your profile if you want to join.

-TMG: formlessforce.deviantart.com
-Daejien: daejien.deviantart.com/
-Rock'n'Roll: psychorror.deviantart.com/
-Celes: minitiger.deviantart.com
-Anastasia: noshorterversion.deviantart.com
-Doc: themoonarcher.deviantart.com/
-Mint: idol-studios.deviantart.com/
-Lizerus: lizerus.deviantart.com
-GMG: guymelefgirl1990.deviantart.com/
-Gemini Shadows: geminishadows.deviantart.com/
Last Visitors

19 Aug 2016 - 21:43

23 Dec 2014 - 19:51

13 Jan 2014 - 4:10

31 Oct 2012 - 20:07

24 Oct 2012 - 12:52

Knight of G
Wait. You are the 'The Mighty Golgoroth.' Nice PS there. XD
12 May 2010 - 16:49
Knight of G
OMG, TMG iz gone! Dx
9 Feb 2010 - 12:52
Happy Birthday, maggot.
24 Oct 2009 - 9:35
Knight of G
You're an awesome writer. Free the MUSE!
10 Oct 2009 - 18:51
Yeah her too.
16 Sep 2009 - 22:33


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