Hope you don't mind me adding on, Brovo:
9.5) GMs should be willing to personally write with any character that isn't interacting with others to bring them into the storyline.
21) GMs should ensure that players with characters heading for death get warned if they're about to do so. Nothing is worse than realizing your last post put your character directly on the chopping block for the GM's next action post.
21A) Exception: Tabletop/rolls-based RPing. Bad rolls are bad rolls, too bad and better luck next time.
22) Once the OOC thread is started, the GM should not shut down an RP before it begins except in the case of extraneous circumstances (real life, etc). The failure of players to transfer from the IntChk to OOC is not the fault of the players, and GMs should not be opening an OOC without adequate interest.
Captain Jordan Member
My other rocket is a car
STATUS: My life has been reduced to 200 measley characters, and I can't even seem to make use of every one. 11 yrs ago
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My life has been reduced to 200 measley characters, and I can't even seem to make use of every one.
11 yrs ago
Now I want a trophy.
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I bought the Orange Box years ago, or that would be a tempting offer. Call me when you're giving away copies of HL3.
The dung beetle.
Sep said
Indeed, until I kill Vor'loch off.
Until? Aww. :(
You can do that on about any topic: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/13454/posts/ooc?page=2
It's amazing that in this day and age, websites STILL have to accommodate IE.
Carantathraiel said
What fun is that? Its still nice to see the signatures. But when people have huge flashy gifs every other post, it gets distracting. Just because some people are obnoxious with it doesn't mean the less brutal ones shouldn't be enjoyed. Signatures are what we have on this site to express ourselves. They should be seen. Just not every post.
I'd agree with that. I have GIFs automatically disabled on my browser because of this site, there are too many signatures with flashing images that distract me from the actual content of the posts. I turned signatures off for now, but I wouldn't mind seeing them once per thread/page.
Sep, so does your last post mean that you're writing both Vor'loch and this new Jacen character?
Like blue lightning, the lethal bolts of energy arced through the air of the cargo bays, leaving behind the stench of burning ozone as they passed. At the center of the storm, blond hair flying wildly, the Jedi Padawan traced the patterns of the trooper's blaster bolts, altering his stance and the angle of his weapon to match. The result was a scattering of the blaster bolts, some back towards their origin, others toward empty spaces of the cargo bay, but always out away from the boy at the center, a swirling, circling maelstrom with Jerek at its eye.
Yet unlike the eye of a storm, Jerek was not calm.
The teenager seethed in anger, his hatred of the Clone Troopers' rebellion at its core. It fueled him, giving his tired arms energy to move, granting his sore lungs a second wind, displacing the pain and confusion that threatened to invade his head once more. The power driving Jerek was unlike he had ever experienced among the Jedi.
As the battle continued, the padawan found himself compelled to keep fighting, pushed onward even as he realized his body was failing him. A misstep here, a poor parry there, ducking at the last moment to avoid the headshot that should have been deflected by his blade. Like an old man, Jerek felt his reflexes slowing, exposing him on all sides. His anger grew, now equally directed as his own faults, suppressing his last hope for surviving this mess.
Then hope sprang anew.
Jerek felt a pair of shoulder blades press against his own, and the bolts shot toward his back deflected away by the newcomer. He didn't turn to look, but his mind felt a familiar presence with him. A voice, similar to his own, seemed to call out weakly, "I've got you, Jer." The boy grinned to himself, safe in the knowledge of his new supporter's identity. With his field of focus now concentrated, Jerek moved with a burst of renewed energy. The troopers around him began to fall once more, their deadly bolts flying less and less. A sense of elation grew within Jerek, he might yet survive this day.
As if to answer that query, a swath of troopers fell before the blade of a masked Jedi, the heavy robes concealing the knight's figure. The strange knight knelt before Vor'loch, lying forgotten upon the bay floor. Looking up, the knight called out her, the voice was clearly a woman, colleague for help. Krayton arrived promptly upon being summoned, drawing fire as troopers moved with their target. These Jedi were obviously more important targets than a pair of kids.
Jerek turned to the other padawan, not at all expecting what he saw before him. A girl, not a boy; brunette not a blond; her frame thin instead of larger. The boy's heart sank as disappointment crept in to displace the joy that had sustained him. Nevertheless, he bowed to the padawan and thanked her for the assistance.
He turned back just in time to hear Krayton, the taller of the two masked Jedi, chide him, "Padawan! Control your feelings and focus! I need you to help me protect your master and my fellow guard here! Now come on you two move!" Anger welled up inside him, and he opened his mouth to speak. Before the boy could do so, the Jedi Guards moved off, carrying Vor'loch between them, leaving the padawans to protect their flank. Grudgingly, Jerek followed and obeyed.
Once the group reached the LAAT, Jerek took a seat, watching with a keen eye as his master's barely-living body was carefully loaded onto the vehicle. He fingered the cool metal of his lightsaber, still in his hand, as the boy glared at Krayton as the masked Jedi bellowed orders for takeoff. He didn't shift his gaze as the craft rose, his eyes watching Krayton and the Temple Guards, silently witnessing as the life slipped from his master's body.
Silent, but not calm.
Yet unlike the eye of a storm, Jerek was not calm.
The teenager seethed in anger, his hatred of the Clone Troopers' rebellion at its core. It fueled him, giving his tired arms energy to move, granting his sore lungs a second wind, displacing the pain and confusion that threatened to invade his head once more. The power driving Jerek was unlike he had ever experienced among the Jedi.
As the battle continued, the padawan found himself compelled to keep fighting, pushed onward even as he realized his body was failing him. A misstep here, a poor parry there, ducking at the last moment to avoid the headshot that should have been deflected by his blade. Like an old man, Jerek felt his reflexes slowing, exposing him on all sides. His anger grew, now equally directed as his own faults, suppressing his last hope for surviving this mess.
Then hope sprang anew.
Jerek felt a pair of shoulder blades press against his own, and the bolts shot toward his back deflected away by the newcomer. He didn't turn to look, but his mind felt a familiar presence with him. A voice, similar to his own, seemed to call out weakly, "I've got you, Jer." The boy grinned to himself, safe in the knowledge of his new supporter's identity. With his field of focus now concentrated, Jerek moved with a burst of renewed energy. The troopers around him began to fall once more, their deadly bolts flying less and less. A sense of elation grew within Jerek, he might yet survive this day.
As if to answer that query, a swath of troopers fell before the blade of a masked Jedi, the heavy robes concealing the knight's figure. The strange knight knelt before Vor'loch, lying forgotten upon the bay floor. Looking up, the knight called out her, the voice was clearly a woman, colleague for help. Krayton arrived promptly upon being summoned, drawing fire as troopers moved with their target. These Jedi were obviously more important targets than a pair of kids.
Jerek turned to the other padawan, not at all expecting what he saw before him. A girl, not a boy; brunette not a blond; her frame thin instead of larger. The boy's heart sank as disappointment crept in to displace the joy that had sustained him. Nevertheless, he bowed to the padawan and thanked her for the assistance.
He turned back just in time to hear Krayton, the taller of the two masked Jedi, chide him, "Padawan! Control your feelings and focus! I need you to help me protect your master and my fellow guard here! Now come on you two move!" Anger welled up inside him, and he opened his mouth to speak. Before the boy could do so, the Jedi Guards moved off, carrying Vor'loch between them, leaving the padawans to protect their flank. Grudgingly, Jerek followed and obeyed.
Once the group reached the LAAT, Jerek took a seat, watching with a keen eye as his master's barely-living body was carefully loaded onto the vehicle. He fingered the cool metal of his lightsaber, still in his hand, as the boy glared at Krayton as the masked Jedi bellowed orders for takeoff. He didn't shift his gaze as the craft rose, his eyes watching Krayton and the Temple Guards, silently witnessing as the life slipped from his master's body.
Silent, but not calm.
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