Avatar of Big Dread
  • Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
  • Joined: 7 yrs ago
  • Posts: 296 (0.11 / day)
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  • Username history
    1. Big Dread 7 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

7 yrs ago
Current "Baton courtesy, service with a smile. :)"
1 like
7 yrs ago
Previous status had a typo I missed, saaaaad.
3 likes
7 yrs ago
Up. Town, Fun you up. Uptown-funk-you-up.
2 likes
7 yrs ago
Aaaaaannnnnnnnnnnd We're back.
3 likes
7 yrs ago
Life is burning down. Activity will falter for a little bit.
1 like

Bio

First, a poem, about my ego -

I'm not just smart guys,
I'm a MENSA,
So healthy I'm made of Polenta,
Not expensive, and, I taste great,
I'll help you lose weight, lames can't hate.
I'm like a boat, the boat's ship-shape,
Wish we could date, i'm so tip-top.
I'm magic and amazing, and I won the Civil War,
Singlehandedly, for the North, so hip hop.
You gotta get me, and, get me,
Then geddit and geddit again,
Get a dozen of me and you'll be buzzin' like a bee hive.
I'm like an ancient demi-god,
You wanna leave me little offerings,
all the mortal imitators gotta go,
I'm hotter than a habanero pepper in a lava flow.
Without me you're lame and afraid,
But now you get laid,
Now you get paid.
I'm better than competitors,
I'm spreading like an epidemic,
and you better get me or you're gonna get AIDS.
:P

Most Recent Posts

The road stretched long behind, and, neared its termination ahead. Phillip had been riding, taking his time, from the Western edge of his father's lands all the way into the Frankish lands. The trip itself had had been undertaken for a number of reasons. The most pressing at first was to head the grand city of Paris itself and see just what was transpiring there. He had heard many strange rumors about the clergy there being involved in witch hunting, corruption, and, even destruction of church property. All of that would have normally warranted a trip with his retinue of minor Ritter. However, the second reason, and now, perhaps the more important of them, was to merely escape the cloying and choking walls and lands of his home.

Wanderlust occasionally gripped the prince's heart. This had been satisfied with wandering his own lands and speaking with and seeing the people there. However, recently, things had started to stagnate. He had been nearly everywhere worth visiting around his home and longed for another adventure like his last. That fateful adventure to find the family of his betrothed and which ended in him vanquishing the terrible Fae Lady Maleficent. The rumors of evil and witchcraft gave more than enough justification for his journey, and, he had been insistent to travel on his own. Perhaps it was dangerous, but, he feared no brigand on the road. None would be a match for his arm, and, if in numbers of worrying proportion, none would match the pace of his steed. Last of all, Rose had become somewhat Choleric of late due to the early stages of her pregnancy. It was all in all, a good time to depart. He would see about this situation in Paris, and, then return to his home to find a wife more aglow with child and a refreshed mind.

As he neared the walls of the city, he spied an odd assortment of folk standing just before the gate itself. Most of them seemed to be of the gentry. Two men in armor, a man adorned with the trappings of nobility, and, a small red haired girl in finery. There were also three horses there of stunning breed. Two of them even seemed to be proper horses of war. Seeing this collection of nobility outside of the gate with little escort gave Phillip some pause. Were the gates shut due to the problems with witches? A smile crept across his face as the promise of adventure and intrigue grow more plausible.

"Let's not keep them waiting, Samson." he whispered down to his mount and spurred him on to a canter.

Phillip pulled up on his reigns a respectable distance from the group and hailed with in French, removing his pointed red cap and sweeping it low across his waist. He dismounted in a quick and practiced single move and turned to face them all, stepping forward, inclining his head to each of them, starting withe girl, then to the regally dressed man, and, finally to the men who looked like armsmen. "Greetings," he began, sweeping his hat to to the side gracefully and placing it back atop his head, "I am Prince Phillip, Dragonslayer of Rhineland. Son of Valter, of the line of Karl der Grosse," he gave each of them a flash of his smile and then his eyes suddenly feel on the odd serpent that sat atop the strange man-at-arm's shoulder. His eyes narrowed slightly at it. He had never seen anything quite so strange. More so, he also noted that the beasts pulling the nobly dressed man's cart were more sheep than horse. He hesitated for a moment, but, kept his noble composure, "I see by your chattel you must traveled quite far as well." he glanced over to Samson, his only real companion throughout his journey, trying to make sure he wasn't standing face to face with the cause of the rumor he had come to investigate. Samson didn't seem to be unnerved, so, Phillip kept his hand off the hilt of the blade resting on his hip. All the worse, if he did need to defend himself, the Shield of Virtue was comfortably sitting strapped to the saddle and would take far too long to bring to bear should it be needed.
Will do.
I figured I would ask before anything else. If it is full I ain't mad or anything. Just checking because it looks like a good time.
I was sent this link by a member of your group. I see it has a long history, which is awesome!Are you accepting characters? My boy BC was slightly unclear. Hahahah!
Alright, color me interested. Give me a snazzy uniform and ship me off the France!


The door to the back room of the barroom of The Nest opened and a lithe cloaked man stepped in. Riker had never liked to use the front door and sometimes it was best to just sneak when people might be looking for you. He didn't suspect any of the Dusthawks would try to turn him in or collect on his considerable bounty, but, it wasn't just Hawks here was it? No, indeed, there was that prancing little lordling with his sword and swagger to think about. Valerano wasn't the type to back stab, but, he was the type to get his reputation pushed up by claiming to have killed Two Cloak. Now that he was already inside the bar, and, at a good angle, he'd have a good shot on anyone who tried to do anything outside of his desires.

"Don't worry, Val," Riker said in a tone filled with amusement and good humor, "I didn't break a window on'y this time. Nothin' needs replaced." he walked quickly over to the bar itself and vaulted the counter, instantly starting to search for glasses, drink, and, other mixes.

Riker quickly began to busy himself mixing a drink for everyone in the room, plus two more besides. The fare they had wasn't great, but, he sure he could put together something interesting. He spoke as he worked, his words directed mostly at their leader, though, Riker had little more than a freelancer's deference to the man. He had been in for ten years now and his old friend had been the former leader. Val was a fine pickpocket and decent taskmaster, but, Riker couldn't help but still see him as just a youngster with too much lemon and not enough salt. "I saw the mark. Took a trip on up to the fancy part of town and left one for our mutual rich friend to see. I'd expect she'll be joinin' us," he paused in what he was doing and looked up to meet Val's eyes, flashing an inhumanly white smile, " 'Les she's got something better and more interesting to do." with that he let out a laugh that was all too enthusiastic and loud. It was just a feint though. As he caught their attention with his laugh and smile his hand quickly sent a dash of powder into each and every glass.

He had been experimenting with this new powder lately. He found it gave the heart fits and numbed out the lungs when taken in strong dose, but, the effects were very different with alcohol. With a bit of drink and a small dose of the stuff it filled you with energy, a bit nervous, but, still good. The double vision was quite bad if he messed up the dosage, but, he was practiced at this now. He didn't fancy trying out things like this on his partners for the first time. He had already drugged nearly a dozen random patrons all over the Gray and now it was time to put that practice to the test.

Riker slid the finished drinks in the general direction of each Hawk and then picked up his own glass and took a sip. He leaned on the bar and eyed everyone in turn, his grin still fixed, "New brew I found while wandering the Gray. I find it is something quite special and not hard to make. Enjoy," his predator's eyes then tracked over to Val, "Alright, Val, the marks are up, who is you need dead?"




"We are going to have to return in the morning," the ferryman said as they docked in the small fishing village, "Fog's making it impossible to see where we are going. in the dark it would be a disaster. Sorry sir, we will have to get your companions when this mist burns off." he shrugged an apology.

Keshiashian didn't bother looking over at the ferryman as he spoke. He scanned the misty night before them and inhaled the feitted stink of the place. He could see how somewhere like this could pull the eyes of things inhuman to it. It reminded him of home, home so far away. The rotting smell of fish here was the perfect mirror to the unending miasma of compost and grain that permiated every memory he had of his lost home. "It can not be helped." he said just loud enough to be heard in his automaton's cadence. He withdrew the cost for the ride from his purse and dropped it into the man's hand. The Order had been kind enough to provide them with funds to cover their expenses, and, given that there were a good few of them here, it would not go to waste. "Tell my companions that my party will be waiting for them and acquiring lodging." his Czech was not well practiced, but, passable. He knew many people here spoke both Czech and German, but, he didn't know any German aside from a few curses. Czech had been more important. He had known a few Czech mercenaries in his time and found their language somewhat easier to learn than some others. Of course, he still wasn't close to fluent. As long as people weren't trying to explain something complicated or started using local terms he supposed he would do fine.

Without another word he plucked his tricorne from the small ledge of the ferry's rail and placed it on his head to ward against the damp night air. He hefted his cane and began to walk down the ramp, beckoning for Vivian and Katya to follow. His hard boots sloshed in the muddied and rain softened ground as he stepped from ramp to terra firma. He could see the lamps of the roads shining their welcoming lights ringed by halos of mist, will-o'-the-wisps promising safe passage through the moors. As so many travelers had done in the past, Keshishian followed the ghost lights deep into the bowels of the town. He was searching. He scanned the world around him, shrouded in darkened fog, for signs of anything that might spark greater memory in his dulled heart. It was as if glimpsing a family etching through the stained glass of a cathedral. Everything was familiar and alien all the same. Each street was just as he remembered it, only, he remembered nothing from this land he had never trod upon until tonight. Nevertheless, his way was guided and soon the pair of them stood before the door of an in and tavern, a strange song of yellow and signs drifting out from the cracks in the building. Mortal structures were not made to contain the essence of the beyond after all. You could make no wall or pot that could contain truth without truth. The former cultist pushed the door open with his mind floating in suspended in the shell of his skull, his old scars and brands itching like fresh wounds just beginning to knit.

The gloom of the outside world had been temporarily banished as the trio passed through the threshold and into the room filled with merriment. The whole situation seemed hollow though, as if the spirits of the dreary air outside were able to infect even those unwilling to give in to their possessions. Keshishian ignored the song that rang far too familiar to his ears and stepped up to the innkeeper. He sat heavily on a stool at the bar and removed his hat, dusting it and setting it on the bar.

"What will you have, sir?" the innkeeper asked casually. He did not bother with small talk either due to his own lack of desire for meaningless words or due to the distant and yet focused look that exuded from the thickly clothed man who now sat at his bar.

"I need room enough for seven and something to eat and drink," he said simply, barely looking at the man who had asked him. Instead he looked over at the young women who accompanied him. He gave them a silent questioning glance, wondering if they had anything to add or ask for. He knew others often liked to talk with people of all kinds, though, did not know if his comrades spoke the language. He would translate as best he could. He seriously hoped they didn't need him to though. He disliked talking with strangers as it was and being the mouthpiece for their mission here would be irritating.




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