NytefallU wot m8
Darth invited you over to the GCL chat on discord if you're interested, I can send you a propah invite if you want
Darth invited you over to the GCL chat on discord if you're interested, I can send you a propah invite if you want
MelonHead
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Mostly given up on this post by post business
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@Divinity So, Divinity, there's a Corban on Valucre playing as Corban, claims to have never played on RPG before, which means one of you must be using someone else's character. Who is it, out of curiosity?
In
Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Jesus, nice work @Dedonus
Oh, fair enough.
I don't really get what you're driving at. I know his crystal protects him from electricity, but he won't have crystal everywhere the shield is likely to make contact if Rook rams it into his body, namely his face.
Rook’s gloved right hand wrapped around the side handle of the shield, bracing it, allowing the brawler to bring all his strength to bear. Quebra would get a taste of that strength as he stepped within range, his arms outstretched, hands reaching for the rim of the shield. With a surprising speed for someone so burly and heavily equipped, Rook darted forward, dipping lower into a half crouch, and thrusting his shield forward and up to meet Quebra’s momentum. The weight of his shield would collide with Quebra’s arms, putting strain on the joints and potentially knocking him off balance. Rook, for his part, simply set his feet into the ground on impact, and with his greater weight it was simple enough to negate any backwards motion.
Rook followed with his body of course, for a moment he led with his right foot, but as Quebra was no doubt forced to give ground his left returned to prime position. Quebra would likely manage to wrap his tricky hands around the rim of the shield, for what it was worth, but a wrestling contest would serve him poorly. He could not stop the shield’s forward motion with his hands alone, and if he was not careful he’d get smacked straight in the chops. Of course, that wasn’t even the end of his initial woes, as the shield first sparked, revealing its electrical nature, and then buzzed as a current passed through the face and rim of the object. Quebra was no doubt protected by his crystalline armour, in some places, but Rook intended to have his shield pushed flush against the man’s body. He could easily make skin to shield contact around his face, neck, even his lower torso where the armour was penetrated. The moment he did, the shock would run through his body.
Rook followed with his body of course, for a moment he led with his right foot, but as Quebra was no doubt forced to give ground his left returned to prime position. Quebra would likely manage to wrap his tricky hands around the rim of the shield, for what it was worth, but a wrestling contest would serve him poorly. He could not stop the shield’s forward motion with his hands alone, and if he was not careful he’d get smacked straight in the chops. Of course, that wasn’t even the end of his initial woes, as the shield first sparked, revealing its electrical nature, and then buzzed as a current passed through the face and rim of the object. Quebra was no doubt protected by his crystalline armour, in some places, but Rook intended to have his shield pushed flush against the man’s body. He could easily make skin to shield contact around his face, neck, even his lower torso where the armour was penetrated. The moment he did, the shock would run through his body.
The hero of Epirus watched the beast flail to its feet, its swinging tail cutting through the air as it spun to meet him. His intuition had been proven correct, as it often was, the beast still had some fight in it and advancing on it immediately would have spelled his doom. He almost allowed himself a smirk of triumph behind his helm, but that would be counting the eggs before they hatch, as they say.
Aegis winced as his spear cracked under the bulk of the creature, but he did not let it deter him from his work. The Celestial Orb of Moon was an artefact he was only beginning to understand, if artefact could even be considered the right word for it. It seemed to be the source of his earth manipulating powers, but even when he used it up the thing would slowly recoup its losses. He had discovered this the hard way in a tough battle a few years back, when all else had seemed lost. The Hero had thrown the Orb itself in a final effort and watched transfixed as it spread wide, something he was unable to do with normal earth, it seemed to change shape well out of the normal range he could affect things. He was going to use the Orb now, but it was an all or nothing strike, because if he missed the Orb would be lost and he would have no more access to the powers of his bloodline for the day.
Still, the hero of Epirus was not one to let something like critical failure get in the way of a good plan. The beast advanced upon him, low, smart, it meant he couldn’t get its legs. What he could do though was launch his Orb right at the thing’s face, and it wouldn’t be expecting what happened next. The beast let out its terrible cry and Aegis stepped back and launched the Orb, the two would meet along the path as his artefact spread wide like a rocky net, clamping down over whatever it could. In this case, it would likely be the beast’s toothy maw, as that was what Aegis aimed for. When it made purchase, it would wrap and tighten, before solidifying like a cocoon around the unfortunate beast. If the man-eater was unfortunate, it could very well be muzzled by a rocky net. If Aegis was unfortunate, he had just thrown away one of his best weapons and had little choice but to draw his sword, a desperate cry on his lips.
Aegis winced as his spear cracked under the bulk of the creature, but he did not let it deter him from his work. The Celestial Orb of Moon was an artefact he was only beginning to understand, if artefact could even be considered the right word for it. It seemed to be the source of his earth manipulating powers, but even when he used it up the thing would slowly recoup its losses. He had discovered this the hard way in a tough battle a few years back, when all else had seemed lost. The Hero had thrown the Orb itself in a final effort and watched transfixed as it spread wide, something he was unable to do with normal earth, it seemed to change shape well out of the normal range he could affect things. He was going to use the Orb now, but it was an all or nothing strike, because if he missed the Orb would be lost and he would have no more access to the powers of his bloodline for the day.
Still, the hero of Epirus was not one to let something like critical failure get in the way of a good plan. The beast advanced upon him, low, smart, it meant he couldn’t get its legs. What he could do though was launch his Orb right at the thing’s face, and it wouldn’t be expecting what happened next. The beast let out its terrible cry and Aegis stepped back and launched the Orb, the two would meet along the path as his artefact spread wide like a rocky net, clamping down over whatever it could. In this case, it would likely be the beast’s toothy maw, as that was what Aegis aimed for. When it made purchase, it would wrap and tighten, before solidifying like a cocoon around the unfortunate beast. If the man-eater was unfortunate, it could very well be muzzled by a rocky net. If Aegis was unfortunate, he had just thrown away one of his best weapons and had little choice but to draw his sword, a desperate cry on his lips.
In
Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Checking In
Ms F
Our friend’s father has been taking up permanent residence outside of Jamestown with some doctors. I will investigate further, let me know what you wish me to do.
-L
His phone buzzed as he sent the message to the Ambassador, behind him the whimpering form of a former doctor fought against her bonds. She was selotaped up and rolling around on the ground, her mouth covered in the same tape, but that hadn’t stopped her making some noise. Enough to irritate the thief to levels where he became unnecessarily cruel.
“Quiet, and you had better not have led me astray, Doctor, or no one will be coming back to release you.” He had what he wanted from Dr Short, the exact location of the facility in which Rach’s Father was being kept, and all the information she could give him on security. Not much, unfortunately. People with the proper clearances pay scant attention to the protective layers around them, it seemed, which made his job a touch harder. He was nothing if not adaptable though, and he had other ‘advantages’.
Silence pulled the door to kidnapped suburbia shut behind him and looked out over the garden for prying eyes. It was late, but a strange man walking out of the Doctor’s house in a mask would garner some attention. Lekh figured the street was probably like most others, no one gave a damn about anyone else in a place like this, no more than superficially anyway. He heard a beep from his ancient flip-phone, as he crossed the garden and onto the street, removing his mask as he made some distance. Pulling it out he glanced across the screen at the blocky text.
Excellent work, send me what you have collected so far. A courier will be by shortly to pick up the documents. Send our friend's Father to LH. I believe a family reunion is in order.
The Polish criminal smiled grimly at the reply, it was smart, and cruel. His estimation of the Ambassador rose a little as he saw through the gist of her plan. Certainly, he had perhaps underestimated his supernatural associates cunning until now. If he released Michael Garth, sent him towards Lost Haven like a rocket with news of his daughter? Could he resist the urge to seek her out, to resist his demons? Of course not, he would carve a bloody path on his way toward her, and Silence knew that the collateral damage would be his fault. So be it.
The Doctor had kindly lent him her car, not that she had much choice in the matter, and as he drove it down nondescript suburban streets and out of Jamestown the night deepened. Usually, the Pole would have planned to stake out his mark for up to a week to discern important information like guard rotations, security measures and to identify potential weak spots. With this task though the secrecy of the place had necessitated a somewhat more reckless approach, and now he was running against the clock. With each passing hour, the chance of a tied-up doctor being discovered in her living room increased, and the alarm subsequently being raised. He could have killed her, it would have certainly made things easier, but he preferred not to do that unless the contrary could get him arrested or killed. In this case, he was confident that even if the worst came about, he had options. For one, he was working for the Ambassador, and he could call on her for supernatural help at will. For another, the Doctor had told him about the security measures in place at the facility, albeit in somewhat general terms. She did not know how many guards, or what they were armed with, but what she did know was that the place was built to keep dangerous test subjects inside and the odd prying member of public out. It relied on secrecy to protect itself from determined outside threats, and Silence had penetrated that vital first layer. Now it was just a question of how determined he was.
An odd flash of green in his peripheral caused him to slam the breaks on, causing his black estate to squeal and rock on the road before coming to a stop in a layby as he span around, pointing an unloaded gun at the figure on the back-seat of his car. It was a creature out of legend, some sort of green skinned little imp with gnashing teeth and a mocking smile, and it held out its greedy little hands as if expecting something.
“Ms Ambaddor sen me sen me.” The thing spoke in rushed tones that distorted half the words it spoke, and if it was nervous about the gun pointed to its head, it did not show it. Perhaps it had no idea what the weapon was.
“Into the back of a moving vehicle? She and I will be having words when I return. I assume you are the courier she spoke of then?” The gun did not waver, he was gauging the creature’s response.
“Yeh yeh, ambaddor sen me, me take wordy paper, you give it, yeh?”
“Yes.” The surreal nature of the conversation was not lost on the Pole, but frankly, it was better to just let the Ambassador lie. She could have here strange minions without too many questions from him, so long as it worked in his favour. Without taking his eye off the toothy little creature for a second, he popped open the dash draw and pulled out something like a dossier. It held a quick write up of what he had discovered thus far about Rach’s past, her parents, and the crimes of her Father taking precedence. He passed the papers to the little creature, which bit into them appreciatively. One of Silence’s eyebrows shot up at this strange display, and then with a poof the creature disappeared.
”What have I got myself into?” He queried to no one in particular as his hands went back to the wheel and he turned the keys in the ignition. The night was still young, and he had a laboratory to infiltrate.
The Old Elf fought with the stubborn beast the whole way, but with a few hefty kicks the mule killed off its attackers and finally allowed its master to drag it to safety. His breath wheezed in ragged gasps as he flicked the mad-eyed beast’s nose in annoyance, his hand slowly falling from the sword’s hilt as the battle raged on around him. Pikes and swords had filled the gap he had left in the line, and along it the fortunes of those he fought alongside became clear. For most, luck was theirs. He saw an undead bear wreak havoc further across among the Wild Elves though, and knew that it had not held for all. There was nothing he could do, his eyes dropped low as magic shot back and forth and some individual fighters showed off their skills in remarkable displays of skill and ferocity. If nothing else, the Elf felt confident he had made the right decision throwing his lot in with this group.
Now, one thing that isn’t really overlooked in a battle, but can be somewhat underestimated until the time comes to talk, is how fucking loud they are. Such that Banaari had no clue that a one-eyed elf was speaking to him in stern tones, for she was not shouting at the top of her lungs, and Banaari was concentrating on other matters. His first inkling that she was there was a hand suddenly seizing his arm, and in his current mental state he reacted predictably. He turned, half yelling, and tried to bat the hand away. Expecting to come face to face with one of the shambling dead, the Elf almost threw out a hasty punch and stopped himself at the last moment before he had chance to make a serious political error. He realised that the noblewoman’s aide was addressing him, and hitting her in the face probably wouldn’t have served him well, not at all.
“Blood and ‘ell, dun’t reckon ye should come up be’ind some’un in a fight ye know, if ye pardon me tongue lady.” He turned his head quizzically as she told him the Countess needed his help. What did she need his help for? Well, there were two ways to find out, but talking to this stern elf lady probably wasn’t the better option. He followed her dutifully, dragging his mule all the way, as the battle raged around him.
Then he found out, and his face blanched pure white. The Countess was injured, not mortally so, but any wound could progress to that stage in time. She should have had proper healers, those with the magic and the aptitude for it, but instead she had called for a crude battlefield surgeon like Banaari. And why? Because she believed in fairy tales, or perhaps she was just misinformed by her so called ‘Ranger General’.
“Sorry ta dissapoint’ ye yer ladyship, I can patch ye wounds fine enough, but the grey is fickle, and the Eye even more so, I can’t help ye with thah.” And he would do just that if she let him, though as a physician his skills were far from the best. He tried to tap into the unearthly calm he had experienced a few scant times in his past, but it was not there. It evaded him, chased beneath the layer of stoicism that itself was a mask for a terrible fear that clawed its way inside the Old Grey.
Now, one thing that isn’t really overlooked in a battle, but can be somewhat underestimated until the time comes to talk, is how fucking loud they are. Such that Banaari had no clue that a one-eyed elf was speaking to him in stern tones, for she was not shouting at the top of her lungs, and Banaari was concentrating on other matters. His first inkling that she was there was a hand suddenly seizing his arm, and in his current mental state he reacted predictably. He turned, half yelling, and tried to bat the hand away. Expecting to come face to face with one of the shambling dead, the Elf almost threw out a hasty punch and stopped himself at the last moment before he had chance to make a serious political error. He realised that the noblewoman’s aide was addressing him, and hitting her in the face probably wouldn’t have served him well, not at all.
“Blood and ‘ell, dun’t reckon ye should come up be’ind some’un in a fight ye know, if ye pardon me tongue lady.” He turned his head quizzically as she told him the Countess needed his help. What did she need his help for? Well, there were two ways to find out, but talking to this stern elf lady probably wasn’t the better option. He followed her dutifully, dragging his mule all the way, as the battle raged around him.
Then he found out, and his face blanched pure white. The Countess was injured, not mortally so, but any wound could progress to that stage in time. She should have had proper healers, those with the magic and the aptitude for it, but instead she had called for a crude battlefield surgeon like Banaari. And why? Because she believed in fairy tales, or perhaps she was just misinformed by her so called ‘Ranger General’.
“Sorry ta dissapoint’ ye yer ladyship, I can patch ye wounds fine enough, but the grey is fickle, and the Eye even more so, I can’t help ye with thah.” And he would do just that if she let him, though as a physician his skills were far from the best. He tried to tap into the unearthly calm he had experienced a few scant times in his past, but it was not there. It evaded him, chased beneath the layer of stoicism that itself was a mask for a terrible fear that clawed its way inside the Old Grey.
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