BangoSkank

Pyrod. (Pyro is the orange in flames.)

I have no idea what any of that means. "Losers weepers" or Arena protocols. Or Prince's Private Arena.

Nonetheless Danger Fontaine accepts your challenge.

Danger, Danger Fontaine is a thickly muscled well tanned man and is never seen without an indulgent quantity of baby oil ensuring each and ever muscle fiber glistens under the stadium lights as does his perfectly manicured mustache. His build is best described as mercilessly powerful and massively sexual

Pyrod. (Pyro is the orange in flames.)

Danger Fontaine does not comprehend what you speak of.

[insert date] brother! Right here in [insert location] it's gonna be you and me and what happens when the immovable object meets the unstoppable force? It's gonna be mostly me beating you up and posing and shit, while the millions and millions of Dangerholics cheer me on and throw their bras and shit into the ring. It's gonna be marvelous, miraculous, gargantuan, ginormous, ecstatic, extremely good.

You gotta ask yourself brother,
Areeeeee youuuuuuu readayyyyy

Pyrod. (Pyro is the orange in flames.)

Behold.

I am the pinnacle of perfection. The apex of amazing. The vertex or very good at things.
Marvel at my monstrous musculature.

I shall wrestle you with all the strength of seven seriously strong strongmen who eat their veggies and say their prayers.

It's time to enter the Danger Zone.

This..Is..SPARTA!!!

Needs some Thracians.

Microfiction&Poetry contest #2 - voting and feedback

I particularly liked Stars, Interstellar and The Stars.

I agree with Maglar, they're all good entries and it's sad only one can win, but for me that was "The Stars".

I liked Stars because it was quite short but felt complete if that makes sense. And as Maglar said it felt playful. If there were like a side award for doing the most with the least words this one would win it for sure. Great economy. Good as hell. Would like to see more from this writer please and thank you.

I liked Interstellar because it had several stanzas (if that's the right word) and I liked how they went together. Some of the verses had a sort of Edgar Allan Poe feel to them and I particularly like the last stanza, or series of four lines. That last stanza makes me want another few stanzas. Good shit. Again I hope you keep writing, this is good as hell and I like it and I want more please give me more.

My favorite though was The Stars. I like star gazing and it had an interesting sort of stream of consciousness aspect to it. Reminded me of the thought process of someone just looking up at the night sky. The turn then in to talking about them as sentient beings sort of was unexpected and I thought pretty damn cool. Sort of a reflection on the loss of the childish innocence of looking up at the sky with questions but not really looking for answers. Hit me in the feelie bits. Good stuff. Naturally I hope you keep writing. Keep writing yeah?

I hope Adder and whoever wrote "Written in the Stars" keep at it too.

"Hood of Shadow" was a bit odd to me, I don't think I really quite grasped it. I didn't get the opening part about "Pink is not orange, but it is green. X-treme, or not to x-treme?" although I assume it has something to do with the colors of a star. That part went over my head but I really liked the lines "Harrowing gets the meadow" and "Of the swords pledge to chop dragon flame into two jets sporadical". It's got some very unique vocabulary to it and that is pretty fucking cool man.

"Written in the Stars", to me, felt like it was caught between being a lovely short story and a lovely poem. I think it would work very well as either but just needs to be committed to one or the other OR you could do like a double post where you expand it into a short story and then try to cut it way down to a poem. Like instead of describing what the character does at all these points just describe a few scenes and let the reader read between the lines. That first paragraph could just be a boy, alone on a beach, staring up at a vast sky puzzling out ancient stories. Like a line in a poem as representing a single image rather than a story.

I don't know. That might not be that helpful. I really liked this entry too and whoever you are I'd like to see more stuff from you. I think you're going somewhere neat as fucks. Cheers man.

How come there are so few Table Top Roleplayers here?

There are a number here who just do tabletop through Discord rather than here.

The Blackwood

I was so ready to bitch and cry about lack of Halflings but then I saw the Burrowfolk.

Very nice.

Hello there everyone! New here but not new to roleplaying!

The Formatting Cheatsheet under the text box you post in tells you pretty much what you can play around with. Welcome to the Guild anyway. I think you can use Headers to change size maybe. Beyond that it's mostly Bold and Italics and colors...but Mahz has started reworking stuff so maybe that's coming down the line but who knows

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk felt in a fog as they returned to the sanctuary of the temple. Though it was not the sort of temple he was used to it provided the same peace of mind he had always felt in such places. They were all alive, there would be time now to heal and rest. There would be time to talk through their experiences and determine their futures. Gorosk was happy to have a future in a way he never really had been before. The spectre of death had always been a vague looming threat unlikely to be encountered for many years. He had trained his body to ensure he would enjoy a long life, he would have plenty of time to discover his limits and perfect the self. Today he had encountered the sobering reality of it all. He was not nearly so far along his path as he liked to think.

As the priest moved from one of the party to the next Gorosk felt the warmth of such magical healing for the second time that day. The potion had brought him back from the brink of death and kept him moving well enough to return here, but the priest healed him the rest of the way. As the priest bowed slightly to him and moved on to the next of the party Gorosk could feel the warmth continue for a moment and then gradually fade. Small spots of warmth remaining a bit longer where the talons of the fetid beasts had first torn at his skin.

"Thank you Priest," he muttered as he reached around his back to feel at the last remaining bits of warmth where his skin had sealed back together. He saw the Goliath matter of factly disrobe to clean herself and decided he ought to do the same, though with more modesty. He unwrapped his arms and rubbed the cool water into his arms and hands, scrubbing hard to get any dried blood or other filth off his skin. Wetting his hands and arms again he scrubbed at his chest to clean away any dirt or blood that might have splashed up on him, then poured more over his back trying to clean his wounded back as best as possible. Finally he pooled water in his hands and went to work at his feet to ensure none of the abundant filth of the rat den floor might stay with him.

Satisfied and weary Gorosk sought out a spot near the fire. He had had quite enough of being wet and cold. He glanced from one party member to the other and smiled to himself. They were not the sort of warriors he had grown accustomed too through his monastery upbringing but there could be no doubt they were each of them warriors.