@Zombiedude101: You need to put in your stuff and we'll see if we can put in some dialogue tomorrow hun. Reveal a little secret no one asked about Vellios to Iosif and Tanya.
Dervish Member
Let's get volatile
STATUS: Remember, nobody actually enjoys roleplaying if there isn't at least five shameful fetishes uncovered by the 2nd page. 5 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 12 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: Dervish
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 5991 (1.32 / day)
- VMs: 8
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Username history
- Dervish 12 yrs ago
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Nyxella,
TokyoPewPew,
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Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
Current
Remember, nobody actually enjoys roleplaying if there isn't at least five shameful fetishes uncovered by the 2nd page.
5
likes
7 yrs ago
Somebody stole my mood ring. I don't know how to feel about it.
14
likes
7 yrs ago
Let's be honest, it's far more satisfying and challenging to actually imagine what a character looks like than paste a hundred gifs of a celebrity and call it good.
4
likes
7 yrs ago
So, a team of players who are good at playing as a team in a team-based game are individually bad players. Seems kind of silly when you put it like that, no?
8
likes
7 yrs ago
My goal these days is to have an RP that can actually finish, or the very least, last a few years. I see way too many die on page one to take chances
4
likes
Bio
Lowering the site's value since January 2012.
Most Recent Posts
In
The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
<Snipped quote by gcold>
I lurk a lot. As much as I wish to... unfortunately I cannot since I haven't actually played the Elder Scrolls T.T
Oh hi!
It's my favorite stalker :'D
In
The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
(Clip this article for exclusive guar plushy coupon!)
At first, the only sensation was an itch across the fingers and palm, then a dull throb in the shoulder. Bit by bit, it seemed that everything began to come into focus as Shay started to come to. Groggy and disoriented, he opened his eyes, and instead of finding himself in the frigid street in his own blood, he found himself in a strange room, illuminated faintly by ambient light.
Am I dead? he wondered, vaguely recalling what had happened, mostly that he was chased and a gunshot, the memory of which made his shoulder burn. He inhaled sharply as the wound suddenly stabbed at him painfully. Reaching tenderly, he was surprised to note that it was bandaged up. If he were dead, and this were Heaven or Hell, his blemishes would be gone.
He slunk back into the pillow, mind racing. What had happened? Tracing his thoughts back, he vaguely recalled the alleyway, falling. Angry voices… the Adders. A window.
Vera.
Shay’s heart sank, and he jolted awake, fearful for what had happened to Vera. He made to move, but his arm screamed at him to lay back, but not before he caught the sight of a dark-haired prone figure beside him. Vera was sleeping soundly beside him, and in his state of relative undress, he felt someone self-conscious, despite the circumstances. He reached out, brushing Vera’s cheek with the back of his hand and smiled when her eyes slowly opened. She was well, she was safe. “If this is heaven, I wasn’t expecting the angels to be so beautiful.” He said, unable to shake the smile from his face.
Am I dead? he wondered, vaguely recalling what had happened, mostly that he was chased and a gunshot, the memory of which made his shoulder burn. He inhaled sharply as the wound suddenly stabbed at him painfully. Reaching tenderly, he was surprised to note that it was bandaged up. If he were dead, and this were Heaven or Hell, his blemishes would be gone.
He slunk back into the pillow, mind racing. What had happened? Tracing his thoughts back, he vaguely recalled the alleyway, falling. Angry voices… the Adders. A window.
Vera.
Shay’s heart sank, and he jolted awake, fearful for what had happened to Vera. He made to move, but his arm screamed at him to lay back, but not before he caught the sight of a dark-haired prone figure beside him. Vera was sleeping soundly beside him, and in his state of relative undress, he felt someone self-conscious, despite the circumstances. He reached out, brushing Vera’s cheek with the back of his hand and smiled when her eyes slowly opened. She was well, she was safe. “If this is heaven, I wasn’t expecting the angels to be so beautiful.” He said, unable to shake the smile from his face.
It was a fight for his life.
Shay struggled as Donald kept tightening his grip around his throat while Jonathan tried to pull the knife out of his collarbone, and failing as the pain was too intense. Shay kept pounding into Donald's side, but the man would not release his deadly grip, and Shay found it hard to breathe as he struggled to break free. His fingers traced along the floor, stumbling upon the broken shards of the tumbler that he'd smashed upon Donald's face, and once he found a long enough piece, he grabbed it tightly into his hand, digging into flesh as he drove it back swiftly towards where he thought Donald's face would be. The loud, deafening scream and the sudden slack grip was enough of a sign he made his mark, and he pushed himself away, wheezing as he struggled to breathe under a extremely depressed windpipe; if he wasn't going to bruise from it, he would have been shocked.
Wasting no time, Shay bull charged at Jonathan, and was rewarded with the burning pain of a bullet tearing through his shoulder, making his arm go immediately limp, but he still managed to shove the man aside as he made for the window. A follow upshot whistled by his ear, cracking the window in front of him into spiderweb-like cracks and Shay tossed himself into the window, landing in a pile of broken glass on the hard cobblestone sidewalk on his shot arm.
The bellow he let into the night was hellish.
Still, he knew he had to keep moving, and with his one good arm, forced himself to his feet and stumbled away from the restaurant as screams and shouts filled the air behind him. The chaos of the panicked crowds would buy him time, and the Adders wouldn't be able to hang around for long before the police arrived. He cursed the snow, which left foot impressions as he fled, along with the occasional drop of blood. Taking his chance, he slipped into a dark alleyway and found himself running out of steam. Half way down, he slipped, reaching out desperately to grab a trash bin that was in the way to stop himself. He felt his hand slip through, a jarring sensation as he was certain he was more than close enough to grab the rim and he found himself smashing his face off of the ground, and his vision was blocked by the trash bin, his elbow more than half way past the edge.
In too much agony to do more than groan pitifully as his body tried to fight against passing out, his vision growing blurry, he heard running footsteps come up to the alleyway behind him.
"He must have gone this way! Come on, let's kill that Irish bastard and go!" he heard a man yell, he wasn't sure who. He closed his eyes, resigned. He would die here, he was certain of it. He could only hope that it was a quick bullet to the head. God, Vera... I'm sorry. I tried. I fucking tried. he thought, his anguish bursting as he feared the worst and that she didn't get away. He never even stopped to turn to look back to see if she'd escaped, he just ran like a coward to save his own hide. What kind of man was he?
A dead one. The words hit at once with a haunting finality. He'd felt this way in the war, but there was always a chance he'd get lucky and see a new day. Here, sprawled out in an alleyway bleeding out, there was no where to go, nowhere to...
"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" A voice boomed, distinctly Donald's. Shay turned over labourously to look up at the man, who couldn't have been more than five feet away. A large ragged chunk of flesh hung from his cheek, and he looked like he'd have no problem tearing a man limb from limb. Fear gripped his heart; Donald would not make it an easy death. He'd make him pay.
"There's blood and fucking flattened snow, and the trail just fucking ends! Where the fuck were you?" Donald exploded at Curtis, inches from his face. The man cowered against the wall.
"I gave chase, I swear, I couldn't have been thirty paces behind him, boss-" Curtis blurted out, bewildered.
Donald's fist smashed into the brickwork beside Curtis' head, tearing the flesh on his knuckles. "You best find him or the girl, or you won't see the goddamn sunrise. Come on, let's go. I ain't in the mood to chat with the constabulary." Donald growled, stepping back through the alley, away from Shay. Moments later, he was alone.
The Irishman didn't have time to wonder how on Earth he wasn't spotted before his eyes grew too heavy to stay open and he slumped down, the snow floating gently down around him.
Shay struggled as Donald kept tightening his grip around his throat while Jonathan tried to pull the knife out of his collarbone, and failing as the pain was too intense. Shay kept pounding into Donald's side, but the man would not release his deadly grip, and Shay found it hard to breathe as he struggled to break free. His fingers traced along the floor, stumbling upon the broken shards of the tumbler that he'd smashed upon Donald's face, and once he found a long enough piece, he grabbed it tightly into his hand, digging into flesh as he drove it back swiftly towards where he thought Donald's face would be. The loud, deafening scream and the sudden slack grip was enough of a sign he made his mark, and he pushed himself away, wheezing as he struggled to breathe under a extremely depressed windpipe; if he wasn't going to bruise from it, he would have been shocked.
Wasting no time, Shay bull charged at Jonathan, and was rewarded with the burning pain of a bullet tearing through his shoulder, making his arm go immediately limp, but he still managed to shove the man aside as he made for the window. A follow upshot whistled by his ear, cracking the window in front of him into spiderweb-like cracks and Shay tossed himself into the window, landing in a pile of broken glass on the hard cobblestone sidewalk on his shot arm.
The bellow he let into the night was hellish.
Still, he knew he had to keep moving, and with his one good arm, forced himself to his feet and stumbled away from the restaurant as screams and shouts filled the air behind him. The chaos of the panicked crowds would buy him time, and the Adders wouldn't be able to hang around for long before the police arrived. He cursed the snow, which left foot impressions as he fled, along with the occasional drop of blood. Taking his chance, he slipped into a dark alleyway and found himself running out of steam. Half way down, he slipped, reaching out desperately to grab a trash bin that was in the way to stop himself. He felt his hand slip through, a jarring sensation as he was certain he was more than close enough to grab the rim and he found himself smashing his face off of the ground, and his vision was blocked by the trash bin, his elbow more than half way past the edge.
In too much agony to do more than groan pitifully as his body tried to fight against passing out, his vision growing blurry, he heard running footsteps come up to the alleyway behind him.
"He must have gone this way! Come on, let's kill that Irish bastard and go!" he heard a man yell, he wasn't sure who. He closed his eyes, resigned. He would die here, he was certain of it. He could only hope that it was a quick bullet to the head. God, Vera... I'm sorry. I tried. I fucking tried. he thought, his anguish bursting as he feared the worst and that she didn't get away. He never even stopped to turn to look back to see if she'd escaped, he just ran like a coward to save his own hide. What kind of man was he?
A dead one. The words hit at once with a haunting finality. He'd felt this way in the war, but there was always a chance he'd get lucky and see a new day. Here, sprawled out in an alleyway bleeding out, there was no where to go, nowhere to...
"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" A voice boomed, distinctly Donald's. Shay turned over labourously to look up at the man, who couldn't have been more than five feet away. A large ragged chunk of flesh hung from his cheek, and he looked like he'd have no problem tearing a man limb from limb. Fear gripped his heart; Donald would not make it an easy death. He'd make him pay.
"There's blood and fucking flattened snow, and the trail just fucking ends! Where the fuck were you?" Donald exploded at Curtis, inches from his face. The man cowered against the wall.
"I gave chase, I swear, I couldn't have been thirty paces behind him, boss-" Curtis blurted out, bewildered.
Donald's fist smashed into the brickwork beside Curtis' head, tearing the flesh on his knuckles. "You best find him or the girl, or you won't see the goddamn sunrise. Come on, let's go. I ain't in the mood to chat with the constabulary." Donald growled, stepping back through the alley, away from Shay. Moments later, he was alone.
The Irishman didn't have time to wonder how on Earth he wasn't spotted before his eyes grew too heavy to stay open and he slumped down, the snow floating gently down around him.
The colour drained from Donald’s face as his jaw clenched, clearly not expecting to be on the receiving end of such back talk from a dainty woman who was staring down a man of his reputation. “You’ve a cheeky mouth, girl, won’t be sayin’ too much when you’re choking on my cock.” He said tersely, gesturing for the unnamed goon to go stop the manager. “Riley, my boy, keep the good man who runs this shithole busy for a moment, would you? I don’t fancy being inter-” he said, turning for a moment to address the younger gang member, likely a new recruit to replace the Adder’s losses.
The momentary distraction was all Shay needed, grabbing his table knife in one hand and his glass in the other, Shay lept up from his seat, driving the knife into Jonathan’s collarbone and smashing the tumbler of whiskey aside Donald’s head as he leapt onto the man, driving hard fists repeatedly into the man’s face. Johnathan reached into his coat, presumably for a gun, prompting Shay thrust upwards with his legs, shoulder checking the man in the gut, winding him.
“Vera, go!” Shay shouted as Donald grabbed him from behind, getting Shay into a choke hold that he attempted to break out of by driving his elbow into the Adder boss’ flank repeatedly.
Meanwhile, the store manager was being pursued back into the kitchen to keep him from getting to the phone, a Lebel revolver now in hand. “Easy, I-ties, this is business. Stay the fuck away from the receiver and we won’t have a problem, yeah?” Riley threatened, waving the gun around authoritatively.
The momentary distraction was all Shay needed, grabbing his table knife in one hand and his glass in the other, Shay lept up from his seat, driving the knife into Jonathan’s collarbone and smashing the tumbler of whiskey aside Donald’s head as he leapt onto the man, driving hard fists repeatedly into the man’s face. Johnathan reached into his coat, presumably for a gun, prompting Shay thrust upwards with his legs, shoulder checking the man in the gut, winding him.
“Vera, go!” Shay shouted as Donald grabbed him from behind, getting Shay into a choke hold that he attempted to break out of by driving his elbow into the Adder boss’ flank repeatedly.
Meanwhile, the store manager was being pursued back into the kitchen to keep him from getting to the phone, a Lebel revolver now in hand. “Easy, I-ties, this is business. Stay the fuck away from the receiver and we won’t have a problem, yeah?” Riley threatened, waving the gun around authoritatively.
Frank had returned, and after Vera placed her order, it was Shay’s turn.
“Spaghetti and meatballs, I suppose. It’s about as adventurous as I’m feeling at the moment.” Shay said, handing the menu back to Frank. When the waiter moved a few tables past, Shay turned back to the conversation at hand.
“I wish I could say God loved us and looked out for us, I used to believe it… but what God would let men butcher each other by the millions?” Shay replied softly, a frown creasing his lips. “I apologize for being so grim, it wasn’t my intention. It lightens my heart to hear you say those things, you truly are a bright light in this cold winter. I just hope being a member of the Roughers works out in your favour… it was rather unjustly thrust upon-”
His gaze went past Vera suddenly, his eyes narrowing, his shoulders tensing. “Of all places in this fucking city…” he muttered. “The Adders just walked in. If it comes down to it, you’re going to have to flee through the kitchen, out back. The staff can slow ‘em down, and do not go back to your apartment. If they follow you, you’ll never be safe.” He instructed his face a grim, determined mask. “I’ll buy you time.”
In the front door walked Donald Hayes, a tall and powerfully built man with a crooked nose that dominated a face that was coated in about two days’ worth of stubble and a body that was built like an iron worker. His hair was as long as his beard and a large scar dominated the right side of his head. His eyes were dark brown and featureless, like dark, unknowable voids. A dark trench coat and a bowler hat rounded out his ensemble. Along with Donald were men he recognized as Jonathan Locke and Curtis Guthrie. The fourth man wasn’t someone Shay recognized.
The Adders walked into the restaurant, initially oblivious to Shay and Vera’s presence, giving Shay a glimmer of hope that the two of them could escape notice. However, luck didn’t hold and as Donald was beginning to sit down, he glanced up and met eyes with Shay. A cruel grin grew on his face as he stood, followed by the remainder of his men, who noticed where their boss was heading to. Curtis was sent to watch the door, and the unknown man stood to bar the other way, leaving Donald and Johnathan to approach their table.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the Paddy bog-trotter and Sam Addley’s whore of a sister whom I expected to have been on her way a couple weeks ago, yet here you are, riding the cock of a drunken degenerate for your next opium fix.” Donald announced, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards at the table. Johnathan stood off to the side, towering over Shay.
“In case it escaped your notice, you’re drawing quite the crowd. You start anything here, Hayes, and you’ll not be able to go anywhere in London without someone recognizing your ugly mug.” Shay shot back.
“In case it escaped yer note-ush, shut your fucking gob, Mick, you think I’m as fucking daft as you?” Donald mocked, crudely imitating a high-pitched Irish accent. “Sure, a lot of people are watching, but think they can keep their eyes on every street? How far do you think you’ll get before my boys pull you off the street and stick a knife in your cunt belly? And the woman, we’ll have a bit of fun with you before cutting your throat. Tell me, girl, you know the names of the men you got killed?” he demanded, staring daggers at Vera.
Shay’s hand tightened, wishing he at least had his knife on him. There wasn’t much he could do with Donald’s goon towering over him.
“Spaghetti and meatballs, I suppose. It’s about as adventurous as I’m feeling at the moment.” Shay said, handing the menu back to Frank. When the waiter moved a few tables past, Shay turned back to the conversation at hand.
“I wish I could say God loved us and looked out for us, I used to believe it… but what God would let men butcher each other by the millions?” Shay replied softly, a frown creasing his lips. “I apologize for being so grim, it wasn’t my intention. It lightens my heart to hear you say those things, you truly are a bright light in this cold winter. I just hope being a member of the Roughers works out in your favour… it was rather unjustly thrust upon-”
His gaze went past Vera suddenly, his eyes narrowing, his shoulders tensing. “Of all places in this fucking city…” he muttered. “The Adders just walked in. If it comes down to it, you’re going to have to flee through the kitchen, out back. The staff can slow ‘em down, and do not go back to your apartment. If they follow you, you’ll never be safe.” He instructed his face a grim, determined mask. “I’ll buy you time.”
In the front door walked Donald Hayes, a tall and powerfully built man with a crooked nose that dominated a face that was coated in about two days’ worth of stubble and a body that was built like an iron worker. His hair was as long as his beard and a large scar dominated the right side of his head. His eyes were dark brown and featureless, like dark, unknowable voids. A dark trench coat and a bowler hat rounded out his ensemble. Along with Donald were men he recognized as Jonathan Locke and Curtis Guthrie. The fourth man wasn’t someone Shay recognized.
The Adders walked into the restaurant, initially oblivious to Shay and Vera’s presence, giving Shay a glimmer of hope that the two of them could escape notice. However, luck didn’t hold and as Donald was beginning to sit down, he glanced up and met eyes with Shay. A cruel grin grew on his face as he stood, followed by the remainder of his men, who noticed where their boss was heading to. Curtis was sent to watch the door, and the unknown man stood to bar the other way, leaving Donald and Johnathan to approach their table.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the Paddy bog-trotter and Sam Addley’s whore of a sister whom I expected to have been on her way a couple weeks ago, yet here you are, riding the cock of a drunken degenerate for your next opium fix.” Donald announced, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards at the table. Johnathan stood off to the side, towering over Shay.
“In case it escaped your notice, you’re drawing quite the crowd. You start anything here, Hayes, and you’ll not be able to go anywhere in London without someone recognizing your ugly mug.” Shay shot back.
“In case it escaped yer note-ush, shut your fucking gob, Mick, you think I’m as fucking daft as you?” Donald mocked, crudely imitating a high-pitched Irish accent. “Sure, a lot of people are watching, but think they can keep their eyes on every street? How far do you think you’ll get before my boys pull you off the street and stick a knife in your cunt belly? And the woman, we’ll have a bit of fun with you before cutting your throat. Tell me, girl, you know the names of the men you got killed?” he demanded, staring daggers at Vera.
Shay’s hand tightened, wishing he at least had his knife on him. There wasn’t much he could do with Donald’s goon towering over him.
In
The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Dervish>
They were from a simpler time, back when Upanishad and Crowley influenced mindfuckery weren't an integral part of the game lore.
TES lore without Vivic banging Molag Bal, ripping off his dick and turning it into a spear and choking Azura with it is simply one I cannot abide.
<Snipped quote by Dervish>
Same. Got into ES in 2006 with Oblivion. I tried to go and see Morrowind but I didn't play for very long.
Likewise. I own Morrowind but I can't for the life of me get into it.
In
The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Those old school TES games must be such a mindfuck to revisit now adays.
Kinda glad I started off with Oblivion.
Kinda glad I started off with Oblivion.
In
The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Dervish>
Had there been gunpowder in TES, I'd have totally made pirates all day erry day.
My first and regular TES character was a corsair.
Ye don't need cannons when ye have magic, scallywag
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