BCTheEntity

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Lucius and his minion are in the room. Huzzah. He does, however, need medical help to not heal improperly in the future.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Oh, good. A way out of the room was opening up. And it was still away from the Genestealers. So, Lucius began fighting his way towards it, because why shouldn't he? He had every right to not let himself die just the same as anybody else. Indeed, as he made his way round the wall, he could see Ga'duk charging ahead of him, making mincemeat of the assorted warrior-women, and even a red-armoured Space Marine whose arm was torn clean off, thrown through the crowd to forge a path for Ga'duk towards...

Fuck, the door was closing.

FUCK, he suddenly had a Genestealer's claws through his gut. Almost reflexively, Lucius stabbed his sword into his own body, through the alien arm that had impaled him and serendipitously into its head, pulling himself free from the- was the worm on his back still alive after all that?! Warp's sake, he was either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive. And still screaming, at that. No wonder its attention had been drawn so readily...

And no wonder one of the humans, this one naked save for some robes or strips of cloth or something, now stepped into the gap Ga'duk had created, wielding a... okay, this was ridiculous. There was no way a normal human could just wield a chainsword that big unassisted. Even he'd have trouble using something like that. And it was on fire, too, thanks to the flamethrower attached to it. Why did it have a flamethrower attached to it?

'DIE, HERETIC, DIE!' the woman screamed, charging Lucius with the oversized weapon raised above her head. Heretic? Heretic to what, exactly? He could, and perhaps would, have made a good long duel out of questioning her if he felt it was appropriate, but it seemed the doorway that had opened was already threatening to close, leaving him trapped in here with the warrior-women... and the Genestealers. So, he instead stepped to one side as she swung, decapitating her with ease as she overextended herself, and then himself charged to reach the door before it was too late, sacrificing the chainsword to practically fling it into the face of another of the power armoured opponents who tried to stop him. There would probably be more scattered around elsewhere.

And when he reached the doorway at last, who else but Ga'duk was trying to hold it open? 'I'm here, Ga'duk,' he muttered into the Ogryn's ear as he sidled past, 'you can get out from under there now.' He still felt a need to manipulate the Ogryn into doing what he wanted, and would rather not lose a potentially loyal minion so readily. Indeed, as he entered the rather dark-themed room, it seemed there were quite a few people who might or might not qualify for similar positions, though he kept his blade drawn just in case. There was an Ork, it seemed, which was trying to reattach one of its lost arms... and it would probably succeed, knowing Orkish biology. There was some Mechanicus member, apparently suffering from some malediction or other. Probably lost some fancy bit of technology in the other room, knowing their sort. Somebody or something lying down in the shadows of the room, and he'd examine that later in case disturbing it made it attack them. His own servant, who he now peeled off his back and placed on to the ground, leaving him to cry and piss himself into whatever stupor he wanted. And...

'Finally, somebody recognisable,' Lucius uttered to himself, recognising the livery of the Emperor's Children on the Marine standing next to the code-pad that, it seemed, handled opening and closing the immense door. Based on the sudden jolt of memory flooding through him- a rare flicker from before the Battle of Caliban, detailing a moment wherein a visitor came to Caliban briefly, hailing from the IIIrd Legion- and his own knowledge of them that came with that flicker, it was clear that the Emperor's Children remained very much in league with the Dark Angels, at least in his own time. But, well, Lucius couldn't exactly tell the man that some daemonic entity or another had stolen his memories, for how would that be seen? More importantly, how would he even identify himself as part of the Ist-

Ooooooooh shit, there was the pain from his wounds. He stumbled a bit, leaning on his weapon for support. He'd probably be alright, considering his enhanced biology... only, without some medical assistance or another, he got the impression his ribcage might not heal properly, and likewise, his arm would definitely never be quite the same after this fight. Having a chunk of flesh blown off will do that to a limb. And if he'd gotten his intestines damaged... that might be a bit dangerous for him, realistically.

@Jbcool@Klomster@Necroes@Wraithblade6@Sophrus@agentmanatee

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Sophrus I was taking an excuse to make a Filthy Frank reference. Don't judge me.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Sophrus I'll get on that ASAP. Incidentally, Thorn is apparently "boss" now... so does that mean...

The Blackshirts of Borovia - An Industrial Era RP of Crushing the Revolution

'Sir, yes, sir!' Pyotr announced once Josef had finished giving out his orders. The Baron's orders, rather, for that was who they served, and why not? It was just another form of fighting, at the end of the day. Grabbing his weapons from next to himself and stowing them on his body, he stood from where he'd been sitting, listening to the radio along with the tall blond Karl, and headed out, not to the front of the building, but instead to a door leading out to its back side. Here was where the stables for the local cavalry horses were kept, and here was where Varvara was located. She was easily spotted, one of the few black horses in the stables round these parts, and all the more beautiful for it.

'Varvara!' he called, agitating her for a moment before he arrived, passing into her stall so as to soothe her. '[I know, I know, my dear,]' he murmured into her ear, speaking in Russian, the language they were both accustomed to, '[it is dreadful that you have not been allowed to stretch your legs enough. But you are a good strong horse, I know, for I have ridden you many times before. We're going out to do some work with our fellows, Varvara,]' he said, smiling at the horse as she gazed back, whether or not she knew what he was saying. '[You will be able to get some exercise whilst we are crushing the peasantry down, and once we get back, you shall have a nice hot mash, yes? Does that sound good? I will first need to saddle you up, as the Americans say, so just return when I call.]'

Then he allowed her out, and for a brief minute, she ran round the field the horses would frolic in, giving him time to open the gateway out and gather all the necessities for ensuring she remained under control, saddle, stirrups, bit and reins; and once she returned to him, he attached them to her body with practiced ease, finally lifting himself into her saddle and encouraging her to ride out the gate, dismounting only to close it behind them again. And once that was done, it was simply a matter of riding out front to meet his comrades in arms, ready to head out and do the dirty work of crushing this rebellion.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

'Frankly, I don't think it's a problem in this case,' Sett countered, in a normal volume and persuasive tone now that the Skayleigh had abandoned privacy. 'She wants to find a dragon. We want to find a dragon. The chances that we'll encounter the same dragon are very high indeed, ergo we'd be meeting up again at that point with no idea of each other's motives anyway. We might as well take her along for the ride, if that's... the... what the...?!'

He'd admit, he was rather alarmed by the sight of a woman charging at him, only to spiral into the air over his head haphazardly, as if propelled by a cannon. First just above him, then horizontally past him and his conversational partner, and finally into some bushes like a maniac, stumbling out with twings in her hair and blood in her mouth. Okay, so that didn't bode quite so well for their future relationship either way... not that it mattered, because she was charging toward the burning village where the rest of the group lay in wait anyway. And he really would get quite upset if Mr. Skay-Lay suggested he had anything to do with that, because to his knowledge, he'd not uttered one word about where the rest of the party was.

'I suppose we're going to meet with the others, then,' he stated firmly, as if it was his idea all along. 'By the way, I didn't quite catch your name earlier, sir. Maybe tell me along the way.' Cavalier and smiling, he turned and began strolling after the woman, assured that they'd probably meet her again with the rest of their party either way, and so feeling no particular need to rush. Besides, if they were fighty about her, his presence would hardly help, aha.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

Our Daily Lives have Become a Battlefield: A Battle School RP

@VitaVitaAR@RolePlayerRoxas I've changed the image, and sent you both a PM.

Our Daily Lives have Become a Battlefield: A Battle School RP

@VitaVitaAR Sure, I can change the appearance. What specifically makes that unsuitable for this RP? Because if it's just the lack of animesque, I can handle that easily. As for the sword, that would be why I wanted to discuss it with you in PMs, which I can do now that you and @RolePlayerRoxas are here.

Our Daily Lives have Become a Battlefield: A Battle School RP

I've written up most of a character sheet so far, and I'm wondering if I should take up the option of RPing as a teacher rather than a student. I'm not sure whether there are any significant differences between teachers and students as far as sheets go, most notably whether teachers hold ranks or have any significant position in clubs, though evidently a teacher would be obliged to somewhat more responsibility than the average student as far as, well, teaching them goes. And I may just go for the student option anyway considering. I also need to discuss some aspects of the AED, how it functions and etcetera, so I'll send a PM at some point.

Master of Blades

Name: Hikari Kiyoshi

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Appearance: "You can never defeat another if you know not how to defeat yourself." Kiyoshi is around five foot nine, with a lean and fit build and an appearance that might be described as "unusually pretty", enhanced by an almost elfin grace in his movements.

Personality: Kiyoshi could certainly be considered the strong, silent type. He is stoic and solitary in general to the point of antisociability, yet unfailingly polite when he speaks to others, and quite generous on top of this, dispatching sage-like wisdom to those who require guidance, and assistance to those in need even at his own expense. He is typically patient and calm, maintaining his wits and a rational outlook even in bizarre circumstances, and clever enough to strategise, plan, or improvise around most situations. Despite this, it is not completely impossible to rile or confuse him, flaws in his persona that he seeks to eliminate as soon as he can, and oddly enough, he maintains a poor understanding of many types of advanced technology, whether through reluctance or simple inability to use most of it properly, though he has forced himself to become proficient with the school's ubiquitous tablets, and very few weapons pose any significant challenge to him due to his IES. As far as the school's battle policy goes, he maintains a fairly strict rule of not initiating fights with those lower in rank than himself, and only rarely challenges somebody of greater or equivalent rank, few as they are nowadays.

Backstory: Kiyoshi entered Shirohama High School fairly shortly after the new combat system was implemented, and for the duration of his first year didn't really stand out at all. According to various rumours that occasionally circulated, he was born from some family of nobility and ex-samurais or another, hence his weapon, though he never really got close enough to anybody to confirm or deny the rumours, and indeed rarely made much of an impact even when talking to somebody. At the same time, the size of his sword often deterred others from trying to challenge him, and though the occasional fighter came up against him, they were all handled in a low-key fashion, and his Student Rank remained below 10 for quite some time.

This changed when one of the more insecure and masculine members of the Combat Training Club decided to get sweet on Kiyoshi near the end of his first year. Despite pointing out that he wasn't interested in any relationship at that time, the Rank 38 kept pushing, eventually getting angry at his crush's insistent refusal, and challenging him to a duel in a very public location in the near future. The expected outcome was that the Combat Training Club member would crush his low-rank foe with ease. Instead, Kiyoshi defeated his foe rather easily, apparently insulting some of the other members of the club in the process. He was challenged by multiple people, only to in turn declare a challenge against every single member of the Combat Training Club at once, proposing that he take on a gauntlet of one, two, or three members at a time - and if he won, he would take up leadership of the club in full.

Frankly speaking, the CTC suffered a humiliating defeat. Kiyoshi seemed to be practically untouchable, his sword blocking his foe's strikes even as it sliced them apart, and his movements seemed to be all but unfollowable at times; many a fighter's AED was removed from their grasp and used against them, all ultimately discarded in favour of his own AED's bizarre ability to, amongst other things, strike down an opponent despite having blocked their attack. Once only the Club's captain was left, Kiyoshi explained that Seirei's power was to phase into a realm of spirit, to ignore physical matter and target a living being's Mana Core, their very soul as he put it. This did not help the captain - in spite of holding one of the highest ranks in the school, and bearing one of the most powerful AEDs, he was apparently shredded in a single strike from Kiyoshi's weapon. Leadership of the club transferred to Kiyoshi, and he acquired various monikers ranging from "Spirit Slayer" to "Master of Blades" to go with his final rank of 41.

Not many people have challenged him in his second year, for different reasons to his first, and he in turn has generally refrained from challenging others. Most challengers have been foolhardy students wishing to take Kiyoshi down as a show of their own strength; all of those he has challenged have been of higher rank than himself, and typically offered some grave insult or another to him or his club beforehand. None have lasted very long. Either way, his rank has escalated somewhat since then, leaving him and his club with quite substantial status in the school. Of course, now the newcomer Chinatsu Chiba has drawn his interest, not least because she too is a sword bearer of substantial strength... and wouldn't it be a shame for her to fall into the hands of a club that would waste her potential?

Inherent Engine Skill: Weaponmaster - In Kiyoshi's hands, every sword moves as fluidly as water, every axe strikes true, and every gun seems to aim itself. To put it bluntly, Kiyoshi is instantly able to wield whatever weapon is placed in his hands, or even utilise mundane objects as weapons, as though he'd trained to use it to the exclusion of all other activities for a decade or longer, in particular acquiring the skills of a grandmaster with most types of sword simply because swordsmanship is already his focus. This even extends to Active Engine Devices to some extent - if the AED is a weapon, and Kiyoshi can manage to disarm the wielder and bring the weapon to bear himself, he will have an instinctive awareness of how to use it as a weapon of its type, albeit lesser than a mundane equivalent unless he practices with it; likewise, he gains no insight into its special features without significant training to first handle these effects properly.

Active Engine Device: Seirei - lit. "Holy Ghost" - Kiyoshi's nodachi is around 180cm long, clearly well-forged despite its dark blue colour, appears able to cut through most mundane substances easily enough, and seems to never require sharpening or maintenance. Seirei's power, though, is reflective of its name, and somewhat odd regardless: when wielded, it seems to blur and leave afterimages, signifying what Kiyoshi refers to as "a transition into the realm of spirit", which by his admission allows it to ignore the physical world and strike directly at a person's spirit, in practice passing through other weapons even as Seirei's strikes are blocked, and apparently harming the target's body as a result of damage to their soul and Mana Core. This blurring even extends to Kiyoshi himself in many cases, apparently multiplying his physical abilities like strength, senses, and endurance when necessary, though especially his speed and agility, causing him to move at speeds that seem impossible at times.

Skills: Swordsmanship - Though reasonably well trained in various weapons, Kiyoshi's true calling is that of the sword. Even without his Inherent Engine working for him, he can quite readily hand other fighters their backside, even those who have trained for longer in swordsmanship, from any given stance. He even prefers to "standby" in no particular stance at all, from there being able to adopt whatever stance he desires nearly instantly; as described, the IE Skill proper renders him practically untouchable with sword in hand.

Martial arts - Despite preferring to fight with his weaponry rather than without, this is not to suggest Kiyoshi is anything but skilled with his bare hands and feet; though only specifically a black belt in karate, he combines his general knowledge of various martial arts into a unique style that tends to revolve around disabling and disarming, rather than killing a foe, since if death is a necessity, he already has the tool to inflict it. It helps that Seirei's power remains partially active even when not wielded, boosting his physical capabilities somewhat without providing the corresponding skill boost.

Psychology, and physics - Kiyoshi is rather skilled in the matters of psychology and physics - whilst certainly not an expert in either field, especially compared to his swordsmanship, he knows enough to hold reasonable conversations on the topic with others working in those areas, and shows a keen willingness to learn more about both topics.

Teamaking - Kiyoshi likes tea, and more importantly like tea of varying sorts. It stands to reason that he's therefore good at making tea, even out of wild plants such as nettles.

Rank: 46 - Kiyoshi is a very highly skilled fighter and a strong opponent besides, but the sense that further advancement is more a function of closeness to the Student Council President than actual ability rings strongly within him, and his tendency to avoid challenging others when not necessary has led to minimal rise in rank as of late.

Club: Combat Training Club - Though he did not create it, Kiyoshi presently leads the Combat Training Club as captain, designed to train other students in the use of various weapons and martial arts techniques; under Kiyoshi, it also functions as a way of helping students to master their AEDs, whether or not they are swords or even weapons. Naturally, the most dedicated fighters in Shiroyama High School tend to be drawn to this club, and it contains a rather high density of skill for its fairly small size.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Unusual Fare

For a moment, Motley dared to wonder if the abyss in the near distance was in any way passable. The human body did contain a great deal of blood vessels, after all... but at best, that'd leave him clinging to the side of a cliff hundreds of meters down its length, and at worst would drop him into that bottomless pit after they snapped. Assuming he wasn't just being ridiculous in thinking there were hundreds of meters' worth of blood vessels in his body. Not that he needed to get there now, but he decided his next goal would be the train station, once he'd gotten or failed to get the necessary information from the smith.

Speaking of whom, the man was... rather distressing to look at. Not because he was Japanese, mind - for a time after Pearl Harbour, Motley had been convinced that the Japanese were the worst race on Earth, but it was hard for an educated man such as himself to maintain that view after learning exactly how disproportionate the USA's payback was, even considering the Japanese armed forces' war crimes at the time. No, the frosted tips were what really annoyed him, because for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why some people thought they looked good. Maybe it was just him being old-fashioned, but he felt that if one was going to dye their hair, one should at least dye it a single colour. He'd've had words to say about the hoodie's colour, too, if it weren't so mesmerisingly patterned. And functional, going by the small jet of water it emitted. That gave it a pass, he supposed.

Either way, the smith was clearly skilled. Not that Motley knew much about sword crafting, but this one looked to be rather well-made, though he had the glowing symbols and the smith's expression to go by for that over anything else. He wondered what it would do once it was finished... and considering the current state of the sword, it seemed that wouldn't take too long. So, observing from a short distance away, he kept watch over the smith's work, waiting for less than five minutes total until the smith had drilled the last rune into the weapon's surface, and placed the drill proper down on the table. Only then did Crue clear his throat, to draw the smith's attention without being too sudden.

'That's a fine blade you've made, smith,' he began softly, stepping over to the man once he'd caught his eye. 'Would that I could purchase it, though I hadn't considered I might need funds for anything in this city. I think my money wouldn't have been any good here regardless.' US petro-dollars were a fairly common measuring stick for every other currency worldwide, but they certainly weren't a universal currency in and of themselves. Which was a shame, if you thought about it.

'That's not, however, why I've come to talk to you,' he continued, drawing his phylactery out from under his shirt, holding it steady in his hand, and indeed ready to pull it away should the smith or anybody else try any funny business with it. 'I'm sure you've heard of the tournament that's currently going on within this city, and I'm sure you can guess that I'm one of the participants. I've been reliably informed that killing other participants is but one method of progressing in this tournament. I was wondering if you happened to know of any others, as I'd personally rather avoid murder for the time being.'

As he talked, he wondered if the man would even understand him, foreign as he was by Motley's measuring stick - whilst those hosting the tournament were certainly capable and educated, there was no suggestion that other inhabitants of the city would be. It'd perhaps be silly, of course, if they weren't able to talk to the participants... but then, the City of Echoes wasn't exactly situated in Crue's native homeland. And nor was it a particularly usual city, he'd admit, so he'd take his chances for this first interaction.

@Lugubrious