Avatar of Fetzen

Status

Recent Statuses

17 hrs ago
Current Finally managed to catch the mouse. Our cat must consider me the most incompetent person of all times given how she watched instead of helping. She dragged the problem in though!
3 likes
3 days ago
I neither have a multiverse in my mouth nor any pocket dimensions stashed away in my clothes. All I got is a Hilbert's Hotel in my head. Does that make me a viable competitor ?
3 days ago
Note to myself: Don't lift something heavy like a dumbbell and then immediately after something light like a cup of coffee. However... on a second thought: Could one make an exercise out of this ?
3 likes
10 days ago
Blind like a mole I dig my hole. Six feet beneath soil I find some Standard Oil. Now money's my Chevron and I got a hard Shell. I'm not British, Petrol's my fetish. My greed is Total, who needs morals
6 likes
13 days ago
You don't have as many new status as you have chat responses, and de facto the status bar is more of a chat at times and has been for a long time. What 'flooding' is depends on the context.

Bio


Welcome to my profile page!


Who the hell is this person behind those many miles of fiber optics and copper cable ?

  • I'm a 34 year old guy.
  • ... who's working as a software developer
  • ... and enjoys roleplaying as a casual hobby to distract himself from ongoing stress


And into which hell will I descend with you participating in one of my roleplays?

  • I'm a fantasy addict: medieval high and low!
  • I'd consider myself to be a low casual roleplayer, 3 paragraphs per post on average.
  • My schedule varies. It might happen that I won't be able to post at all for a week, but then again it might happen that I'll reach a sweet spot inside which I can go on a posting rampage. I'd say one can expect 1-2 posts a week from me, depending on the lengths involved.
  • English is not my native language, but so far I've not encountered anyone who had had trouble with me over that :)


Want to RP with me ? Shoot me a PM, but don't shoot me!



Thanks for visiting!

Most Recent Posts

I'd like to try and toss my hat into the ring for this one again :)


Fyr raised his fist slowly, but no less angrily as reality forced him to stare at the blood running down from his now rather demolished knuckles. That would buff out at some time for sure, but definitely not for the next days or even weeks to come without some magical assistance ? He had quite successfully knocked out the oak table with his strike, but only because the assassin he had actually intended to hit had managed to evade impending doom completely.

It had not even been that other arm where he had just suffered a cut, but the other one that had been still perfectly fine. There was no way to work around this embarrassing misery by claiming to have been impaired, was there ? Worse still, his intended victim was getting back on his feet just as Fyr was trying to start ignoring the pain...
Suiting up and squeezing himself into the Minvera Force's uniform was nothing Harald hadn't become used to many months ago, but doing so with the definitive info that this was not a drill felt quite different still. Slightly nervously, his fingers slid over the keyboard of his laptop giving the next input that would keep the system busy just long enough for him to check his weapon. His secondary weapon, that was. He considered this laptop to be the primary one and the pistol a tertiary stopgap measure, but just maybe. So it was always good to give his digital assistant some maintenance and cleanup before departure, but it was even better to make sure that none of these updates had turned things into a binary mess accidentally. This was not Microsoft where one could almost expect that to happen, but still...

Software really wasn't Harald's primary concern at this point however -- it was trigger-happyness. This was essentially some sort of first contact at least on their side and they would go in not even trying to stretch out a hand, but with the firm intent of fixing up any alien's lead deficit ? Sure, hostile action against a cargo ship was not nice to say the least, but the mere thought of an alien species capable of interstellar travel coming to Earth just to attack some big, rusty bucket running on Diesel fuel was no way less horrifying in its own respect. It was just way too ridiculous not to blatantly point at some much bigger affair behind it. Either that or somehow these aliens were brainless creatures who had somehow managed to miss the fact that the universe held all the resources one could possibly need in abundance without coming to Earth. The only thing that made Earth so unique was the presence of life, but killing that would take this aspect away which made no sense either...

---

At least the pilots had not to stress their minds about that, he thought. They would be out of this thing soon enough, but that was assuming that they would make it there in the first place. Harald didn't know whether anybody else of their team had any real idea about handling an aircraft, but he certainly hoped that the guys in the cockpit really knew what they were doing. Otherwise they all should have come with a lifejacket and some extra bait for distracting the sharks instead. Oh, and speaking of sharks, if he was ever to lead an alien invasion, he'd do it exactly this way and go submarine instead of keeping UFOs roaming in the sky. Humanity knew fewer things about the ocean floor that it did about the moon. If these aliens were already building a damn construction yard down in the Mariana's trench, science would likely not know anything about it yet.

UDO, 'unknown diving object'... The German operative remembered having heard of this in some old computer game.

Anyway, they would either find out something, die right away or come back with more or less empty hands. That was abundantly clear. Harald tried to take in the looks of his teammates as long as he'd still have the opportunity, but soon found out that the gear they all had to carry rendered this to be a quite difficult task. Some sort of anonymity had probably been considered the very least a positive side effect in the design process. At least Avalanche was easy enough to spot given the fact that he had just decided that deliberately risking open sparks in an aircraft was not against regulation.

"I wouldn't say I was dragged out of a shithole to be honest. I would rather say that some other people's shitholes brought me here." Behind his face mask, Harald couldn't resist a sheepish grin at this point. Yet could he dare to openly blame U.S. government agencies for what they seriously dared to call 'IT security efforts' or would this be taken as an offense ? "And I hope for you it's not an LNG carrier we're headed to or you won't even have an open deck to make proper use of your gun -- not the mention the danger of all the highly compressed gas itself. How many millimeters of steel can this thing punch through ?"
Fyr looked at his axe for an instant as he realized that he had just lost his family heirloom a second time right now. It was only a tiny bit of hestitation however as way too many things were happening just now all around him, including a sword directly aimed at him.

It seemed though that the man wielding it experienced an equal amount of misfortune. The blade missed though it still came very uncomfortably close to Fyr's skin.

Bereft of his primary weapon due to his very own actions, Fyr reached for the spear he had obtained from the demonfolk back in that ugly cave and pushed the long weapon forward towards the second assassin.



The metal tip punched what looked like all the way through the man's thigh and, once Fyr started to pull back, started to exhibit some quite asymmetric behavior. In other words it acted as sort of a barbed hook and caused even more bloody destruction in the process. That leg would not work again anytime soon and, assuming that radical treatment wasn't applied very rapidly, would probably pull the rest of the man's life down with it. At least that was how Fyr thought.
Týfurkh


Týfurkh, once in the private quarters that had been assigned to him and Jen, couldn't help but find the degree of smell emanating from the other man to be rather disturbing. He didn't mention it though for he had plenty of reason to assume that he himself wasn't in any better state. With the sweat of the men combined however, the olfactory aspect of the air inside the room quickly ascended to a level of potential mass destruction. Good thing that they both had probably become relatively immune to it already. Even if not though, using the bath tub was not a viable option: Given the 'art' of food prep they all had witnessed already, Týfurhk would not really have been surprised if the servants had mixed up fresh, hot water with water taken from the sewers. That was assuming that this place actually had sewers, however...

After having put down his armor and other gear in order to don some light, textile clothing, Týfurkh had trouble falling asleep. Chres' familiar whizzed through his thoughts just as she did through the air for real. The incident at the dinner table had lowered the bar in terms of Sil's accountability a lot further and he couldn't get rid of the thought that something more... serious ?... might happen in the future. Good thing for him he didn't witness Sil's mishap with the water bucket!

His head ached and the dim light coming in through the window was still too much to spare his eyes from some pain as they tried to adapt, coming from the complete darkness they had just been in with their lids closed. Wasn't this Lord Ru'Tev even able to arrange for some ruckus in the middle of the night not happening ? Or was this even the middle of the night already ? Týfurkh didn't know. He could only hear some male voice distorted by the walls and corridors it had to get through along with the dampened trampling of feet. Not suspecting anything malicious at first, he didn't want to wake up Jen and tried to get out of the bed as carefully as possible in order to have a look outside.

With the door open, he could hear much more clearly. These were Karina's and Chres' voices accompanied by the sound of fists and weapons clashing! He shut the door firmly again immediately, his heartbeat taking a sudden jump. There were no bars or anything else installed, at least not from the inside, so the only way of locking the door was to block it with something else.

"Jen! Jen! Wake up! We've been set up and need to fight!" He needed some moments to get his gear ready and assumed that Jen would be happy about some slight preparation as well, so while shouting, Týfurkh started moving some spare furniture he could find towards the door. The last thing they needed now were some assassins stumbling inside while they were still half asleep. Needless to say that this action created a lot of noise to wake up the other man, too.
"If you wish, I could certainly show you a trick or two." Valentin offered, though deep inside him he knew that this far from an entirely altruistic offer. He just really hated having to defend somebody else that wasn't him as well and, from what they both had heard so far, this mission was bound to include some serious trouble. Experience dictated that way and he had learned not to toss his own gut feelings into the wind.

Finding the way out proved to be a lot easier than the other way around, but only due to the fact that they could always use the look out of the next window in order to orient themselves and find the most likely route back into the courtyard again. The soldiers there had apparently undergone some sort of shift change, but Mr. Reinhardt made his presence still felt by snorting at them. Halfway unconsciously, Valentin reached for Amara's hand in an attempt to drag her along a tad more quickly in order to get away from the man's unnerving presence.

"So, all of this sounded to me like we don't have much time at our disposal. What do you think about grabbing our supplies and meeting at the stables again ? Given the smell I'd imagine they're over there..." and he gestured towards a wooden addendum built adjacently to the main wall surrounding the courtyard. There were obvious signs of many hooves tramping the ground around it.
Fyr barely had enough time to raise his hands as a protective barrier in front of his face before the blast hit them all. He was partly thrown over the table, partly rolling himself across it in an attempt to build some distance even as disaster already was in progress. The result was a bleeding nose or at least that was what he could diagnose himself given the lack of time -- there was probably more he couldn't feel yet. And of course he picked up plenty of weeks, if not even months old dirt from other people's shoes as he hit the ground hard.

Great! He had hardly been given the opportunity to get rid of demonfolk blood splattered over his chest and now he was already struck by bloody scraps of intestines again! That was not to mention a few pieces of broken glass from the many bottles that had also suffered. Had the greatest pirate off all time's stare just been way too intense and energetic or had that really been a boob bomb giving everybody goose bumps ? This tavern was a damn booby trap! The sound of more footsteps came closer and a distinct and no less eerie glow could already been seen reflecting slightly from where the floor was actually polished, so quick action was in dire need.

Where had his trusty family heirloom gone ? It was quite the heavy thing, but the explosion had displaced it considerably still. Fyr was on the verge of launching himself towards it, then felt a foreign hand touching his shoulder. He heard Arthur's voice over the chaos around them, some words he couldn't understand at least verbally. Yet the unfamiliar warmth beneath his nose decayed, the bleeding was no more and so some of the other things he hadn't even been aware of yet. A very short appreciative nod was all Fyr could return before the other man's attention was drawn elsewhere again though.

So now to retrieve and use a proper weapon, finally! Only now Fyr's vision skimmed across the remainer of the room: This was not a slaughterhouse, but an extreme caricature of such! He rubbed the axe's handle against the nearest piece of halfway clean cloth he could find. It looked like some now dead man's clothes, but he needed a firm grip not weakened by blood acting as a lubricant. Five hostiles were there, three acting as backup while two apparently thought nobody would stumble across the idea that they might have more than a dagger each at their disposal.

No, certainly not after this overture! It would be them who'd be cleaved in two, not even more innocent patrons!

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