Avatar of Andreyich

Status

Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current me wanting to play out shit from a setting from around 2010 that only europeans know...
2 likes
2 mos ago
what did he mean by this
6 mos ago
the issue is them king your thread was great (i didnt read it)
1 like
1 yr ago
no fucking way
7 likes
1 yr ago
while tru, quantity != quality, the fact is there's enough good writers out there with diverse enough interests to fit most niches apart from the unrealistically specific i.e. kitten beheading RP
2 likes

Bio

If you enjoy my posts then consider pressing here to see my 1x1 interest check.

About me:
Where do I begin. I'm from Belarus, and fairly proud of it. I've been RPing about a decade starting mostly with chat stuff and some LARPs/reenactments, doing the stuff of this site for maybe half a decade now. I'm a former serviceman, and while I was conscripted I make sure to stay in related circles. As a day job I'm a programmer letting me usually work from home even when we don't have coronavirus forcing us to do so and thus I got a lot of time for RP.

Most Recent Posts

@Dannyrulx

What was this, an interruption? Who dared interrupt this honourable excursion? "I apologise, friend. It appears someone did not overhear me before." John said to Khaz, with astoundingly no sarcasm in the ''friend'' part. The beastman was being brave, and went up to the challenge. Not bad. For an abhuman, but still not bad. He quickly shook his head as the thought that he might be braver than most normal people entered his head. No, it's easy to be brave if you look like that! Still, his sympathy was mounting.

He turned to the woman, a face of anger and disgust on him. He cracked his knuckles, and looked her up and down. "You're not a Commissar, which means you can't kill me. Not only that, but that is not your bolt pistol; something for which a Commissar can kill you. You know, I swear I saw one just a few arshins away." He lowered his arms on either side of him, a perfectly impassive expression on him. "I'm going to rip those pretty cybernetics off of your face. That's not a kill, worry not. Just some fun horseplay between different authorities of the Imperium. Ha-ha." With that humorless laugh he would start walking towards her, cracking his knuckles as a cue for her to shut up and get to a safer distance to watch, one where she wouldn't try to play hero. John noted that at least some watchers shared his sentiments, thinking of her as a nuisance and means of stopping what would be an interesting fight. He of course kept Khaz in his peripheral vision, should he try to start white knighting. He also shot glares to the people who had failed their game of skull-ball and were coming to them. Should they try to stop him, they were in real trouble too. Whereas the likes of him or Khaz would be tough enough to take even the worst of beatings without even bothering to defend themselves, he reckoned he could rip apart the rest of them no problem, skill be damned, be they the cybernetically modified guardsmen, or the cat eared abhuman more akin to a xeno than a member of the apex species.

As he walked a little evil laughter would start coming from him. He did not want to do it, but it would hide his hands shaking. Damn heavy stubber recoil. He wondered if that sacrifice was enough to award him a spot closer to the God Emperor himself in paradise. He wasn't "muscular" as anyone could see, but he had great bulk, and the muscles he had were fine-tuned, so to speak. He flexed his arm, each one nearly as thick Angelika. He would at this point smile, letting his plasteel teeth shine for her. He wondered what thoughts were racing through her head right now, most likely something of fear. He quickly stopped that train of thought; arrogance was the bane of any man, and lead to heresy. Schlop. Schlop. Each step through the mud and dirt got him closer.

At that moment he wondered if he would actually do as he said. Would ripping out that horrid eye actually be survivable? If she did not back off, he sure as the throne would know! Besides, she pulled the gun on him whilst he dropped his massive weapon. What was that but aggression? "Another dog-tag for my gloves, another flak kit for my plate, another helmet for a trophy!" He yelled, getting ever closer to the terminal point.
@agentmanatee

Never mess with a cat and it's ball of yarn ork-skull.


ftfy Imperial Citizen
@Bright_Ops
When he saw them pull out their bows, he internally laughed a little. The heavy-stubber would be able to rip through a whole platoon especially in the open before the arrow even hit him, and if he died the Ministorum Priest in charge of his section of the Frateris Militia would personally execute them with his eviscerator. Still, the Beastman had shown good faith, so the man through his weapon to the side, it smacking the earth unharmed; it was a rugged thing that would not break without some true effort. He ripped off the front plate of his armour and the rest came off easily after wards. Finally exposing his bare, scarred chest and tattered remains of leather pants. Even his feet were bare, having scar tissue thick enough to strike matches on. It was as the last bit of armour hit the earth, he realized he never had a fistfight. All these years he was cutting or shooting Orks, before that he was a paper pusher. "It would be an education!" he mused.

Still, he knew how duels worked, at least in his section of the world. He walked until there was about twenty feet between them and bowed, before going in the approximate stance he used with his mono-knives; one fist was raised higher to protect himself and the other lower for gut-oriented strikes. He sniffed expectantly. He did not know the personal meaning of the insult Khaz brought upon him so he retorted with a casual air about him. "You know it's quite funny you call me bull-headed." He braced himself for a charge, which he knew the Beastman would most likely go along with.

Done.
He'd get knocked but he would get back up in less than a minute.
D: I did not think we'd leave it to RNGesus. Oh well.
A contest means that there is the silly possibility of elves winning.
I too posted short, not very inspired today :/
Fred looked about and noticed a funny fellow who he could rob when he - oh - the creepy guy who said he'd go gambling. He followed the man to the bar, quietly and sat not far off. He was certain he would be recognised, and would look to the ceiling and sniff if looked at. For now though, he kept quiet and would stir his drink with a swizzle stick.

He thought this was to do with the job; perhaps it was, so he decided to listen in, even if not as best as he could from this distance. He would put some caps on the table, in case later he was too drunk to pay, and to keep the barman's attention on the man, knowing Fred had paid.

While waiting he wondered what the others were up too. Dusty was probably lying in a puddle of her own making, be it chems, vomit or piss. The Ghoul, well he was probably being a ghoul and eating someone. He pulled his recharger pistol and started spinning it in a cowboy manner, and shot it at the nearest dartboard in use hitting the very centre; it was hard to miss with a weapon of that quality but he had not even seen one of the beauts outside of the Mojave. Point - or simple show of masculinity - made, he put the weapon away and awaited the next item of interest.
Don't pussy out Khaz!
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