Recent Statuses

2 days ago
Current Reminder it's not Easter yet according to the legit calendar
1 like
4 days ago
man from all the likes my gamers rise up style statuses get I get the feeling RPGuild is actually slonking the gang weed
4 days ago
I'm running as president of the world in 2020, my campaign is that gamers will no longer be oppressed
14 days ago
The most fun part of a high school roleplay is when the GM is forced to abruptly end it because the PCs foolishly bullied the weird kid too much.
1 like
20 days ago
I spout all sorts of crazy shit, not sure of it's sincerity. I have become poe's law incarnate


Look at me and marvel at... I'll think of it, give me a moment.

Anyway, adding shit

My 1x1 Search:…

Russian and Belarusian (native speaker)
English and a Quebecois/Parisien mongrel French as others
doing my best to learn other interdasting ones

Most Recent Posts

Fabios Odyssean

Location: Cenarius Glade

Fabios shook his head at Cenarius, unimpressed. "You know you're damn well daft for all the stories the knife-ears say about you. Go ahead, send me to die. Just remember for whom I died, and what it means to throw my life away. Go ahead, I'm no coward."

He laughed, looking to the sky and glad for the clarity the light bestowed upon him. Falling for this nonsense. A good way to die nonetheless. Yet, it seemed this would not be. Falling for this nonsense. A good way to die nonetheless. He did not even finish that thought as he saw a face so familiar. "Bloody hell." he muttered, seeing a face oh so familiar and a face oh so vile — one that made his hand go to his blade.

As Cenarius asked Fabios to fight alongside him, the Paladin again laughed. Moments after being threatened with being killed, he was supposed to just proverbially bend over, to possibly give his life for the goat-footed bastard... and with a green-skinned imbecile no less? The Knight began to laugh as Cenarius addressed him, starting with a light giggle and moving on to a night uncontrollable burst.

Several felhounds entered the fray with the first easily torn up by Cenarius, but quickly more entered to fight the trio of Fabios's "comrades." The Paladin's mind raced. This was frankly an opening for him, a chance to run away from these nasty folk. He drew his two handed sword and flipped it over to hold just below the crossguard with one hand so he could comfortably run with it yet also have it easily accessed should a Felhound come upon him. He leaned down on the ground grabbing two heftier stones and threw one at the head of the orc whilst the other at the head of Malfurion knowing both were occupied with an enemy and that subsequently would not be prepared for the Knight's attempt to knock them out, or at least slow them down enough to prevent pursuit.

At the same time as either stone was thrown the man flew into a sprint. He was in full plate and not the youngest man but he could still get around on his two feet very, very fast. Fabios was fully attentive to make sure naught cut him off but he was nevertheless thinking of his near future. If there were Felhounds about that neither Cenarius nor Malfurion knew of then Fabios knew that the elves in the locale would most likely be busy fighting them than trying to get an arrow to his face. So, what was his next path? Perhaps he could find Heda; she was a bit silly with all the thinking about business of time and such, but he knew she was the only one who understood his situation and if she was powerful enough - or had such friends - to get out of the circle the most likely sticking with her would be most wise.
Username: @Andreyich

Character Name: Hans von Lipvig

Race/Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Career (if any) and Skills: Dueling entailing shooting and fencing, horse riding and general equestrian skills, full literacy and numeracy, noble bearing and etiquette.

Heirloom Blade: A fine thing, much engravings and decoration cover this weapons that is both on border of ornamental toy and fine masterwork weapon.

Dagger: Similar to the former, it is a beautiful and clearly expensive thing that works as both a weapon and a tool.

Repeater Pistol: While still a new and gimmicky design, having five full pistols shots reloaded as quickly as a normal pistol is no trivial thing.

Hans will dress himself in neat and fashionable, but not too (that is, in his opinion) ostentatious clothing with much emphasis on personal comfort.

Equipment/Other: He will with himself have a mechanical pocket watch, a compass, a map of the region, stationery, and a significant amount of coin. He has a quite excellent white charger with partial barding, as well as a breastplate and riding gear of his own.

Physical Description: About 179 centimetres in height Hans is the typical image of a so called dashing cavalier. Perhaps destined to be a Knight himself given training, he is athletic if not quite soldier material with a moderate build and frame. He has wheat blond hair carefully groomed upon his head with the slightest of sideburns. Hans does not have any distinct facial features save for a general "boyish" look, albeit this is explicable by a rather slight age.

Mental Description/Personality: The young man has not had much time to properly develop a personality. What little time he has spent on this earth he has more or less gotten what he wanted when he wanted unless this somehow annoyed a family member. He never gave much thought to the Sigmarite faith he was born into, until he realized so recently the amount of hate it could bring upon a man. He still does not care much for it, but its certainly brought him a much more sober vision of the world. Now a largely mercantile but still vaguely innocent mind guides him across the world.

Born to lower nobility in Middenland, the von Lipvigs were of the comparatively small Sigmarite minority in the province. The predominantly Ulrich worshipping population always saw them with skepticism and suspicion, almost as though they were foreigners within their own homes.

Still, there was little hatred money could overcome and thus a lavish life awaited the lad. His father wanted more maturity in his son before educating his son on properly managing the manor and instead just taught him the foppish business one could get at any time like dancing in a ball, riding in a horse with your nose held high or artfully swinging a sword to impress the peasants.

Yet it wasn't to be. Poor crop yields and few merchants arriving meant that the people of the region had empty stomachs, and they right away turned to those they always held at least some contempt for. Driven off family land with his sister and father killed Hans fled with his mother. Yet Ulrichan family was cautious of giving them refuge, and what gold the family could pack in carriages would run out eventually.

Fearful, confused and frustrated Hans took whatever weapons he could get hold of and in the night rode off from the home of the distant family friends they stayed with in the Reikland. Now alone on the road he searches for where fate will take him.
@Jbcool So originally I was thinking of an Iron breaker that left home because he didn't want to take the Slayer oath for. Crime he didn't commit. Since you've sort of ruled that out I was thinking either of a city Dwarf slayer, a Ranger, or a Sigmarite Middeblander noblemen, family driven from home by a minor peasant's revolt that as Ulrichans saw them as targets (think of a dismounted pistolier I guess).
@Jbcool are you looking for more high level stuff like maybe a former Greatswordsman rocking full plate zweihander with arming Sword and pistol for side arm or more low power like say some random well built young farmer preferring to fight rather than keep with the pitchfork and took grand-dad's old halberd off the mantelpiece as he sets off to look for work.
@Jbcool I like the idea, seems it has the potential to last kike your SoB RP. I think I would probably change my character then though, since I think an engineer on a chopper would be awfully awkward.

The elderly man walked along the street, muttering to himself. What the fuck was going on these days. People going around biting each other like they were lunch, what the hell could it be? Don felt he had a pretty safe wager it was some sort of drug making people like this. Kids were snorting all sorts of shit these days, and while he appreciated a bit of irony himself it seemed that they worshipped it nowadays. He heard from a worker at one of the shelters that for a joke kids were snorting condoms. Now that did sound like something that people his age made up to be pretentious to young folk but the more he saw the new generations the more he felt like joining in the pretentiousness. There was also that drug, what was it now... it made you eat people or something like that. Kids, eh?

As he walked along he nearly tripped on a pair of street urchins. Wait, what the fuck? This was twenty-first century America, street urchins don't exist! Donny looked down at the offending kids and sighed in recognition. The Chalky boys, they ran away from home and miraculously managed to both avoid getting taken back, and dying in an alley to someone not quite right in the head.

"Jesus Christ kid! Watch where you're going."

"Not our fault you're a blind old fag!"

Don's arm shot out at the neck of the younger of the two, quite tight on his shoulder.

"You're asking for an ass whooping, children. I'm going to give you three seconds to apologize before I give you a spanking TV shows give the eighteen-plus for violence label for. Then I'll give you to the cops so you can get back to whatever the hell it is you ran away from."

Vague mutterings with the idea of an apology came but he felt like he deserved more.

"What was that? Speak up, louder if you please."

"Sorry." Came the response from both boys.

"Well how about that. Now why the hell is there blood on you, you've been hanging out with the rest of the bums right?"

"Some old guy got bit!" One of the kids shouted, to the anger of his brother. He was about to silence his sibling until Don gave him quite the nasty stare. Assured internally he wouldn't be interrupted, Don looked back to the Chalky that spoke with an encouraging nod.

"I... I don't know much more than that. He had a dog and he looked fucked up. Got bit or something, maybe his dog got in a fight with another dog. I don't know. He's with that doctor guy now but he got blood everywhere."

"Fuck." Was all that Sebastian Barretto could muster. An old guy with a dog? Maybe this was one of his older friends Patrick. He hadn't seen him around lately but if that was him it would be shit to see him die to a bite. A lot of homeless folks had dogs, they helped fight off some fucker who thought he had a claim on the bottles you gathered for one, and they were like portable radiators when you came right down to it. Besides, as a homeless gentleman you didn't have to clean up their turds.
Nobody talked about it, but you could always eat the poor things.

Still, now was not the time to think about the hobo economy: now was the time to see what the fuck was up. The old vet sprinted as best he could which was admittedly not very well until he reached the camp. He stood for a minute or so catching his breath but his respite was cut short — somebody had started screaming. Again he took to his feet, hearing the all too familiar squelching noise of tooth upon flesh. "Do something you prick!" He shouted to Sean, running over to shove the old man away for at least a little safe room to be made.

Fabios Odyssean

Location: Dreamscape - Cenarius Glade

Fabios looked about, opening and closing his fist a few times and rolling his neck to test the false reality of the dream world. It seemed his intangible captor had something to say but he didn't really listen to her nonsense, instead momentarily thinking about past, present, and future of when he would at last wake up. Coming to a few conclusions he knew he'd soon be using, he spoke up to the voice.

"Shut your mouth, whore." He stated quite simply. "Shut your mouth. My dreams don't have some witch breed spouting nonsense. If this is my dream then be gone from it, if its your world then I hereby claim it for the Glory of Kul'Tiras and the Light - therefore it's now mine, and you will get the hell out. Or at least leave me be." The man said, genuinely just wanting to be left alone.

It seemed his wish was granted, yet only momentarily as he left the world of dreams and once more went to the land of now. He sat up, growling faintly as he rubbed his helmeted head. Cenarius was quite clearly unhappy with him, but Fabios was ready for the stag-man.
The Knight stood taking off his helmet, brushed himself off and then placed the piece of armour back on his head once he was yet again dignified. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I know you, and your... your slimy kind. You'll see what I give willingly as a sort of test, before forcing the rest out of my damn brains. Send me to interrogations, don't, say whatever the hell you like. I don't know know what happened to that stupid Vrykul, I fell down unconscious after stepping out of your pansy circle to go help her, or one of the stag lasses anyway." He said, pointing a finger to the Dryad behind the tree. "I help one of you animals and all the thanks I get is a threat to be turned over to some sadistic elf bastards. Well so be it, I wouldn't mind the last thing I do being spitting in their smug faces."
hmm, actually moderately interested in this, a Dwarf Engineer going around on a Gyrocopter cool?
I'm going to guess by the ping you're hoping to start very soon, in which case I probably won't be able to get something out on time.

Fabios Odyssean

Location: Dreamscape

The old soldier raised a foot to leave the battlefield but already his destination was before him. He wasn't an idiot, and noted upon this but right now his goal was just to once more see his beloveds. Running forth the man laughed, falling to his knees with both hands going upon his red hair. They went down across his face to wipe grimy tears until either palm fell to his heart. His adorations were interrupted quite quickly however, as there was death and destruction around him.

A vile voice spoke to him but he didn't listen, looking down once more to the crossed palms before his heart, for now just kneeling. He ignored the speaker instead turning to his own inner thought, wondering just how to react to everything.

Transported to the birth of Solomon a light smile again came to Fabios as he stood up. The Knight stepped over to his wife pressing a hand to her cheek, running it down momentarily to calm himself and allow for a semblance of sanity to return. The Paladin then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before looking to the sky. "I'm going to wake up, and I'm going to hurt you. However how much I hurt you can be reduced if you release me sooner. Tick-tock, scum." With that the Paladin again turned to his wife to make use of what moments of reunion he had.
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet