An Outsider
Member
A Glorious Failure
STATUS: Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating. 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2485 (0.56 / day)
- VMs: 7
-
Username history
- An Outsider 3 yrs ago
- ████████████ 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Roman
Status
Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating.
3
likes
9 yrs ago
My Lit Lecturer used Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run to display the effect of narratology in class today. It's the first thing he's spoken about all term that I've actually read.
9 yrs ago
How good is the Punisher in Netflix's Daredevil series? "Just some guys who are about to walk into a diner for the last time." That line is so manly it could make a toddler sprout a beard.
9 yrs ago
The Justice League trailer is giving me mixed emotions. On the one hand, I desperately want to get hyped. On the other, Snyder and co have burnt me too many times in the past. I'm a conflicted mess.
2
likes
9 yrs ago
What? The Lethal Weapon tv show isn't utter garbage at all, instead being an enjoyable watch. What the fuck is the world coming to?
1
like
Bio
For all you know I'm handsome as hell. Let's keep it that way.
Most Recent Posts
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
PM'd you MrD.
Congratulations Dizzy!
Lucius Cypher said
You are a potato, baked to achieve the perfect balance of crispy and chewy. Regardless of your thoughts on the matter, for I am the chef, he who has decided your fate, and have thus split you unto twain, and wrapped you in a foil of tin and inserted you into the fires of my furnace. But that will not be your end; oh no. After I slather my holy butter onto your body, you will be dosed in the remains of the long pork, fried in the hellish inferno. And your fate will end within my bowels after I consume you, body and soul, mind and spirit, and excrete you into the fertile grounds of new potatoes, whom will share your fate from here to the end of existence itself.
. . . Whaaaat
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Added a couple of Rogues.
The night before Krios arrives in Denerim
Ivan and his men were clearly arguing as Faen approached them, arms flailing wildly as each man spoke his piece, which was promptly ignored by the next. This could have gone on all night, had the assassin's sudden appearance sent them all into a gradual, heavy silence. The fact the mere sight of him had hushed their discussions, and that their fingers crept towards their belted weapons and their eyes twitched with nervous energy told Faen that he was more than likely they cause of their squabble.
"Andraste's tits, that's him. . . " muttered one of the cut-throats, a subtle edge to his voice, an edge Faen recognised all to well. It was the outcome of when a man repressed fierce emotions, an audible shake, a precursor to violence. But the assassin wasn't here to fight, not yet at least, so he was careful. He kept his pace slow an measured, not too fast but not to slow either. His hands stayed out of sight, hidden within the long folds of his dark cloak, while his crossbow, wings folded in on itself, sat unloaded and holstered at his waist. His calm demeanour must have had a likewise calming effect on Ivan, as he slowly waved down his men, ordering them to settle themselves. Faen was close now to them now, so Ivan spoke up.
"Ho there, old friend. Odd time of night to be out." Tiny Ivan was a giant of a man, standing a full head taller than Faen, with the kind of shoulders a bull would be jealous of and hands that looked like they could batter a troll into submission if he took a mind to it. His big face was round and open, and he wore a wide smile, one that didn't quite make it to his eyes. No, his eyes were the only thing wrong with his otherwise friendly visage. Blue, cold and empty, they were utterly devoid of emotion.
"Late perhaps, but not odd if you have a reason to be out. Do you have a reason to be out Ivan?" Faen's reply was sharp, leaving little room for friendly chatter. Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise his mask of geniality did not slip.
"No preamble eh? I always liked that about you Faen. I reckon you already know I get my pay from Caleb Losthill know. Now, Caleb hears rumours. Rumours that the merchants are starting to feel a bit hard done by."
"Merchants always feel hard done by." Faen interjected breezily, with a casual wave of his hand.
"This times different thought." Ivan continued "This time their mad enough to do something stupid. Stupid like hire an assassin. Ye wouldn't know anything about that, would ye Faen?" There was a significant pause, the silence so thick with tension you could have cut it with a knife. True, if you drew a knife in this company you were liable to catch a faceful of axe blade, but the metaphor still stood. The assassin was forced to pick his words carefully.
"Are you asking me if I've been hired by the Denerim merchants to kill Caleb Losthill? You know I don't work like that Ivan. Complete discretion towards my employers, even hypothetical ones." The big man sighed at that answer, his hand going towards his belt. Faen stiffened, thinking a fight was about to break out, and even he would be hard pressed to beat seven men in a straight fight. His worry was unfounded for the moment though as Ivan instead produced a large coin purse, and offered it to the assassin. Faen accepted it without a word, surprised at how heavy it was.
"Let me change tact." Ivan said as Faen opened the pouch. "One of the merchants had a change of heart, I wont say who, but he betrayed you and his comrades. Caleb knows you've been hired to kill him, and he knows who did it. However he knows it isn't personal for you, and he's willing to make a deal. In that pouch is twenty five sovereigns, a gift if you agree to drop the contract against him. He then asks you to turn on your current employers, and is willing to pay double your standard fee per head." The assassin, who had been absently counting the coins in the pouch, couldn't help but arch a brow at Ivan's offer. The amount Caleb was offering was staggering, a Teyrn's ransom in coin. Images of just what he could do with all that coin flashed through his mind. He could travel to Orlais, beg his pardons of the empress and live amongst the bright and the beautiful once more. He could take to Rivain, and buy himself estates in the sun. Hell, with that kind of money he could pay the Crows to stop hunting him. Caleb's men began to relax, assured the assassin would take the offer.
"It is a good deal." Faen finally said, the last of the tension melting away from the cut-throats. Ivan laughed a good hearty chuckle. One man in the rear breathed a sigh of relief, as none in attendance had relished the thought of fighting Faen the bastard, there was a reason he warranted such a high price amongst prospective employers.
Therefore it was even more of a surprise when Faen's hand swung out in a wide arc, coins flying from the open pouch in a wide spray, grunts and cries sounding in the night as cold, hard, gold struck men in unprotected faces, necks and hands. One cut-throat was struck in the eye, blood erupting as the coin burst his eye. The assassin's cloak flickered slightly, Mother's Kiss emerging from the cloth like a player stepping past the stage curtains, all of her savage beauty displayed in the night air for the briefest of seconds before she danced forward to lance into Tiny Ivan's belly, the big man making a pig like squeal as the dull metal pierced his flesh. Faen wrenched the blade right then left, warm blood squirting from the wound and spattering his fist and wrist, before he pivoted on his feet and shoulder barged Ivan, the wounded man staggering backwards unsteadily as Mother's Kiss slid easily from the gaping hole in his torso. The cut-throats behind him, still off balance after Faen's sudden attack, were in no position to brace the big mans weight, and could do little but curse as they were all pitched from their feet under Ivan's collapsing bulk. Without missing a beat the assassin darted forward, vaulting Ivan and the men trapped underneath him like a professional tumbler, his free hand flicking a throwing knife forwards as he hit solid ground once more. The blade flew through the darkness to punch into Ivan's archer's throat, the man falling to the ground making a wet gurgling noise. The assassin hadn't even stopped to watch the throw, instead sprinting across the bridge.
All in all the attack had lasted the best of five seconds, left the archer dead, Ivan dying, and one man crippled, and had been so sudden and unexpected that the rest of Losthill's men were still struggling to make sense of it as Faen's pounding footsteps began to fade into the night. Ivan tried to order his men after the assassin, but the only sound he could make was a pained scream. The gang finally managed to turn and pursue Faen, but by then he was already fading into the shadows on the South side of Denerim.
Caleb's deal had been a good one, but even Faen had some semblance of honour, and once he had taken a job he would see it through to the end. One way or another Caleb Losthill would die that night.
Ivan and his men were clearly arguing as Faen approached them, arms flailing wildly as each man spoke his piece, which was promptly ignored by the next. This could have gone on all night, had the assassin's sudden appearance sent them all into a gradual, heavy silence. The fact the mere sight of him had hushed their discussions, and that their fingers crept towards their belted weapons and their eyes twitched with nervous energy told Faen that he was more than likely they cause of their squabble.
"Andraste's tits, that's him. . . " muttered one of the cut-throats, a subtle edge to his voice, an edge Faen recognised all to well. It was the outcome of when a man repressed fierce emotions, an audible shake, a precursor to violence. But the assassin wasn't here to fight, not yet at least, so he was careful. He kept his pace slow an measured, not too fast but not to slow either. His hands stayed out of sight, hidden within the long folds of his dark cloak, while his crossbow, wings folded in on itself, sat unloaded and holstered at his waist. His calm demeanour must have had a likewise calming effect on Ivan, as he slowly waved down his men, ordering them to settle themselves. Faen was close now to them now, so Ivan spoke up.
"Ho there, old friend. Odd time of night to be out." Tiny Ivan was a giant of a man, standing a full head taller than Faen, with the kind of shoulders a bull would be jealous of and hands that looked like they could batter a troll into submission if he took a mind to it. His big face was round and open, and he wore a wide smile, one that didn't quite make it to his eyes. No, his eyes were the only thing wrong with his otherwise friendly visage. Blue, cold and empty, they were utterly devoid of emotion.
"Late perhaps, but not odd if you have a reason to be out. Do you have a reason to be out Ivan?" Faen's reply was sharp, leaving little room for friendly chatter. Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise his mask of geniality did not slip.
"No preamble eh? I always liked that about you Faen. I reckon you already know I get my pay from Caleb Losthill know. Now, Caleb hears rumours. Rumours that the merchants are starting to feel a bit hard done by."
"Merchants always feel hard done by." Faen interjected breezily, with a casual wave of his hand.
"This times different thought." Ivan continued "This time their mad enough to do something stupid. Stupid like hire an assassin. Ye wouldn't know anything about that, would ye Faen?" There was a significant pause, the silence so thick with tension you could have cut it with a knife. True, if you drew a knife in this company you were liable to catch a faceful of axe blade, but the metaphor still stood. The assassin was forced to pick his words carefully.
"Are you asking me if I've been hired by the Denerim merchants to kill Caleb Losthill? You know I don't work like that Ivan. Complete discretion towards my employers, even hypothetical ones." The big man sighed at that answer, his hand going towards his belt. Faen stiffened, thinking a fight was about to break out, and even he would be hard pressed to beat seven men in a straight fight. His worry was unfounded for the moment though as Ivan instead produced a large coin purse, and offered it to the assassin. Faen accepted it without a word, surprised at how heavy it was.
"Let me change tact." Ivan said as Faen opened the pouch. "One of the merchants had a change of heart, I wont say who, but he betrayed you and his comrades. Caleb knows you've been hired to kill him, and he knows who did it. However he knows it isn't personal for you, and he's willing to make a deal. In that pouch is twenty five sovereigns, a gift if you agree to drop the contract against him. He then asks you to turn on your current employers, and is willing to pay double your standard fee per head." The assassin, who had been absently counting the coins in the pouch, couldn't help but arch a brow at Ivan's offer. The amount Caleb was offering was staggering, a Teyrn's ransom in coin. Images of just what he could do with all that coin flashed through his mind. He could travel to Orlais, beg his pardons of the empress and live amongst the bright and the beautiful once more. He could take to Rivain, and buy himself estates in the sun. Hell, with that kind of money he could pay the Crows to stop hunting him. Caleb's men began to relax, assured the assassin would take the offer.
"It is a good deal." Faen finally said, the last of the tension melting away from the cut-throats. Ivan laughed a good hearty chuckle. One man in the rear breathed a sigh of relief, as none in attendance had relished the thought of fighting Faen the bastard, there was a reason he warranted such a high price amongst prospective employers.
Therefore it was even more of a surprise when Faen's hand swung out in a wide arc, coins flying from the open pouch in a wide spray, grunts and cries sounding in the night as cold, hard, gold struck men in unprotected faces, necks and hands. One cut-throat was struck in the eye, blood erupting as the coin burst his eye. The assassin's cloak flickered slightly, Mother's Kiss emerging from the cloth like a player stepping past the stage curtains, all of her savage beauty displayed in the night air for the briefest of seconds before she danced forward to lance into Tiny Ivan's belly, the big man making a pig like squeal as the dull metal pierced his flesh. Faen wrenched the blade right then left, warm blood squirting from the wound and spattering his fist and wrist, before he pivoted on his feet and shoulder barged Ivan, the wounded man staggering backwards unsteadily as Mother's Kiss slid easily from the gaping hole in his torso. The cut-throats behind him, still off balance after Faen's sudden attack, were in no position to brace the big mans weight, and could do little but curse as they were all pitched from their feet under Ivan's collapsing bulk. Without missing a beat the assassin darted forward, vaulting Ivan and the men trapped underneath him like a professional tumbler, his free hand flicking a throwing knife forwards as he hit solid ground once more. The blade flew through the darkness to punch into Ivan's archer's throat, the man falling to the ground making a wet gurgling noise. The assassin hadn't even stopped to watch the throw, instead sprinting across the bridge.
All in all the attack had lasted the best of five seconds, left the archer dead, Ivan dying, and one man crippled, and had been so sudden and unexpected that the rest of Losthill's men were still struggling to make sense of it as Faen's pounding footsteps began to fade into the night. Ivan tried to order his men after the assassin, but the only sound he could make was a pained scream. The gang finally managed to turn and pursue Faen, but by then he was already fading into the shadows on the South side of Denerim.
Caleb's deal had been a good one, but even Faen had some semblance of honour, and once he had taken a job he would see it through to the end. One way or another Caleb Losthill would die that night.
I'll probably have my next post up tomorrow.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Hi-Voltage
Volt gave Apogee a weary look that nonetheless held a wealth of sympathy for her. It was easy to forget that when you take away the powers, costumes, alter egos and larger than life personalities then League members were just normal, day to day people, just like anyone else. And Emily was still so young, not much older than he was when he first started the 'good fight.' You never forget taking a life. Thats the price for taking one. Ah should know.
Togther the three League-mates entered the wardens office, and it was like stepping into the feverish, drug-addled nightmare of a madman. Blood already stained the thick, plush carpets, with detatched body parts strewn across the room. After the raging battle in the yard, and the fight in the corridor Volt had been beginning to think he was frowing numb to the effects of violence, at least for today, but he now realised he was sorely mistaken. His stomach lurched, and he suddenly felt dizzy. A few breaths let him steady himself, and he forced himself to focus. Even to his untrained eye the postion of the bodies, the state of the room, and the pulsating red orb all scream 'black magic' to him. Memories of his fight with Dr Whitechapel flashed through his head, and he was left wishing that Sonja was here.
Perhaps most disturbingly was the blue eyed man, who looked so at home amid the carnage. At least he's wearing tha flesh of a man, yet he feels more like beast. Something about the mans demeanour set Volt's flesh crawling, and he had no trouble believing blue-eyes would have little trouble with blowing the wardens brains out. He didn't know if what the rest of what he said was true, but the Lightning-Slinger was sure of one thing. He didn't want this guy tasting free air, if for no other reason than he just knew it would cost countless men, women and children untold horrors if he got free.
"Ah cannae say ah'm too in love with those 'term's." interjected the Lightning-Slinger. He must have looked a right state, costume in tatters, bloody from a dozen wounds, goggles cracked across his face, but he stood a little straighter as he spoke, held himself a little more disciplined. He hadn't gone through all this just to fall at the last hurdle, he hadn't let Emily bloody her hands to be pushed around by some blue-eyed butcher.
"Ah have a counter offer. Ye stand doon, calm and quiet like, and ah dinnae fry ye lika cheap steak." Other than he didn't make any other movements, but he wasn't being meek. Instead was scanning the room with the eyes of someone who regularly throws himself into these kinds of situations, probing for anything that could give him and his team an edge in the fight he was sure to follow.
"Hmm, max wing. . . " Silvertongue was quick to respond to Sonja, "And by the way, I'm Polish." he added absentmindedly before gasping.
"The max wing. . . its. . . they're out. They're all out, the worst of the worst. And theres a portal, to God knows where. If you don't get there quick they're all going to be free!"
Morningstar
"You got it Binary." Morningstar responded. She sounded eager enough, but there was an edge to her voice now. She resented Binary taking charge, purely because the Meta human was only in the League because she had powers, and didn't have half the training or skills that Pariah, Sixgun or Morningstar herself had. Still, it wasn't and ideal world, and she wouldn't rock the boat for something as simple as recon.
"You need anything you just holla Cowboy. I'll keep the link open." With that Pariah's former apprentice loaded up and made her way to the red light district, and whatever the Den was.
Mr Joe Black
Joe couldn't contain himself when the officers tazed Salvation, his laughter bursting outwards. Now that was succseful police work. For that small act he was almost considering not making a formal complaint to the CPD for the fact Salvation had escaped them in the first place. Almost. He was still laughing when an officer asked him if they wanted to put Salvation in the Leagues holding cells.
"You want my opinion?" Joe asked after regaining his composure. "I say just take him outta view and give him two to the back of the head. Huh? Blam! Blam! Hey presto, no more problem! Anything less and he'll probably just escape again in six months, and just end up making himself a bigger pain in my decomposing ass. I should know, I've been a guest of the state enough to know how it works."
Joe hadn't noticed the magical ward drop yet, but when he did he would be compelled to enter the building.
Volt gave Apogee a weary look that nonetheless held a wealth of sympathy for her. It was easy to forget that when you take away the powers, costumes, alter egos and larger than life personalities then League members were just normal, day to day people, just like anyone else. And Emily was still so young, not much older than he was when he first started the 'good fight.' You never forget taking a life. Thats the price for taking one. Ah should know.
Togther the three League-mates entered the wardens office, and it was like stepping into the feverish, drug-addled nightmare of a madman. Blood already stained the thick, plush carpets, with detatched body parts strewn across the room. After the raging battle in the yard, and the fight in the corridor Volt had been beginning to think he was frowing numb to the effects of violence, at least for today, but he now realised he was sorely mistaken. His stomach lurched, and he suddenly felt dizzy. A few breaths let him steady himself, and he forced himself to focus. Even to his untrained eye the postion of the bodies, the state of the room, and the pulsating red orb all scream 'black magic' to him. Memories of his fight with Dr Whitechapel flashed through his head, and he was left wishing that Sonja was here.
Perhaps most disturbingly was the blue eyed man, who looked so at home amid the carnage. At least he's wearing tha flesh of a man, yet he feels more like beast. Something about the mans demeanour set Volt's flesh crawling, and he had no trouble believing blue-eyes would have little trouble with blowing the wardens brains out. He didn't know if what the rest of what he said was true, but the Lightning-Slinger was sure of one thing. He didn't want this guy tasting free air, if for no other reason than he just knew it would cost countless men, women and children untold horrors if he got free.
"Ah cannae say ah'm too in love with those 'term's." interjected the Lightning-Slinger. He must have looked a right state, costume in tatters, bloody from a dozen wounds, goggles cracked across his face, but he stood a little straighter as he spoke, held himself a little more disciplined. He hadn't gone through all this just to fall at the last hurdle, he hadn't let Emily bloody her hands to be pushed around by some blue-eyed butcher.
"Ah have a counter offer. Ye stand doon, calm and quiet like, and ah dinnae fry ye lika cheap steak." Other than he didn't make any other movements, but he wasn't being meek. Instead was scanning the room with the eyes of someone who regularly throws himself into these kinds of situations, probing for anything that could give him and his team an edge in the fight he was sure to follow.
"Hmm, max wing. . . " Silvertongue was quick to respond to Sonja, "And by the way, I'm Polish." he added absentmindedly before gasping.
"The max wing. . . its. . . they're out. They're all out, the worst of the worst. And theres a portal, to God knows where. If you don't get there quick they're all going to be free!"
Morningstar
"You got it Binary." Morningstar responded. She sounded eager enough, but there was an edge to her voice now. She resented Binary taking charge, purely because the Meta human was only in the League because she had powers, and didn't have half the training or skills that Pariah, Sixgun or Morningstar herself had. Still, it wasn't and ideal world, and she wouldn't rock the boat for something as simple as recon.
"You need anything you just holla Cowboy. I'll keep the link open." With that Pariah's former apprentice loaded up and made her way to the red light district, and whatever the Den was.
Mr Joe Black
Joe couldn't contain himself when the officers tazed Salvation, his laughter bursting outwards. Now that was succseful police work. For that small act he was almost considering not making a formal complaint to the CPD for the fact Salvation had escaped them in the first place. Almost. He was still laughing when an officer asked him if they wanted to put Salvation in the Leagues holding cells.
"You want my opinion?" Joe asked after regaining his composure. "I say just take him outta view and give him two to the back of the head. Huh? Blam! Blam! Hey presto, no more problem! Anything less and he'll probably just escape again in six months, and just end up making himself a bigger pain in my decomposing ass. I should know, I've been a guest of the state enough to know how it works."
Joe hadn't noticed the magical ward drop yet, but when he did he would be compelled to enter the building.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ye know Lookie I was thinking about something. I know MrD doesn't want to have advanced AI in the story at this stage, so he's free to tell me I'm being daft if he wants, but if it was possible for someone to like vampires, or Jedi, or superheroes enough that the Awakening actually turned them into that which they liked, isn't it possible it could have turned someone who loved robots into a robot?
I know its not quite what you want, but it does allow you to play as a robot, just one that doesn't have the tricky AI involved.
I know its not quite what you want, but it does allow you to play as a robot, just one that doesn't have the tricky AI involved.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Which is an Elseworlds tale, and not part of the DC Universe comic canon.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
The Awakening wasn't magical, nobody knows what it was.
© 2007-2026