I kind of want to be in one more fight, cause all I have is the bout with Imaginary, since the other 2 on 2 fell through.
DJAtomika Member
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STATUS: To all I'm in RPs with: I apologise if my replies are sparse. Life isn't kind. 11 yrs ago
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SkyeOfStars
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11 yrs ago
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To all I'm in RPs with: I apologise if my replies are sparse. Life isn't kind.
11 yrs ago
BLUH
Bio
My name is DJ.
I am a roleplayer.
A roleplayer of roughly a good decade now.
I write a lot of things, and am able to roleplay a lot of things.
Random Things about me
- I run a small YouTube channel.
- I listen to a helluva lot of music. Love music.
- I'm from Singapore. It's a little island in Southeast Asia.
Anywho, I've not been RPing for a long long time, but here I am, hopefully to make a few friends and RP some.
I am a roleplayer.
A roleplayer of roughly a good decade now.
I write a lot of things, and am able to roleplay a lot of things.
Random Things about me
- I run a small YouTube channel.
- I listen to a helluva lot of music. Love music.
- I'm from Singapore. It's a little island in Southeast Asia.
Anywho, I've not been RPing for a long long time, but here I am, hopefully to make a few friends and RP some.
Most Recent Posts
@Rilla Hey Rilla, why not him and Cho fight? They're both dead lol
It sounds like fun! Count me in!
@Imaginary You still around bro lol
Umbra stood at the mouth of the cave, idly watching the rain as it fell on the plains outside. It was peaceful and quiet, but it was strange, almost foreboding that it was raining. It had rained too, on the day he'd left the castle, and again on the day he'd found his companions. Since then he'd attributed the rain as a sort of important marker, that the things that would happen on that day were something he would never forget.
Today was no exception. Their leader, Kethuala, had called the group in to relive the past memories of their earliest ancestors: the original Seven. It was, to quote, an attempt to learn about the Dark Lord, and how they had fought him in eons past. His own ancestor, the Warlock, was one of the evil one's greatest minions, and yet, at the pinnacle of his reign, he and his two other lieutenants defected to fight their former master. He wanted to know how.
He sighed to himself and retreated back into the relative warmth of the cave and sat in front of the fire. If what their leader wanted was information, he would gladly provide.
The man had a name once. This name was a name that struck terror into the hearts of men and gods, for it was a name of such vile disrepute.
The man's name was Koli. He was a warlock.
He served the Dark One, the Demon Lord, oh ye who tore mountains in twain, he who would conquer kingdoms with a flick of his wrist. The most terrifying being in the land, and he was his chief tactician and warlock. He had taught the mages under the Lord's charge how to utilise only the worst, most powerful spells in existence. He wreaked havoc with them, caused much suffering and loss of life. He enjoyed it. Watching the weak and the fools die so that the superior race could take precedence. All for his master, Xalafoor.
Today was no exception. His lord had marked out a village due for their monthly tax collection. They paid in coin and in flesh; the women produced this far north were exceptionally pleasant and full in body. Perfect to serve as slaves for his master's throne room, or as breeders for the army's demons. He was to lead, of course, since the land feared his magics. The threat of a storm of stars raining down upon their heads was a threat they couldn't possibly ignore. He was week prepared enough; his tome of spells hung from his waist and the tattoos of his many, many spells writhed and swam across his flesh. With a flick of his wrist he could turn a man inside out, or fling him across the land, or bury him in the ground, never to escape, or a myriad other punishments for disobeying Xalafoor.
That said, he gathered the scroll upon which the decree was written, rolled it up and stored it within his robe. Then he left his tower, bringing along his two daemon door guards for the trip. It wasn't particularly far away; just a short horse ride to the south.
-----
"...and so, by the end of this week, twelve of your fairest maidens and two thousand gold pieces must be procured and awaiting our arrival. If neither are present when I return, you will face my master's wrath."
A stunned silence fell across the marketplace. The looks of indignation and anger slowly spread through the townsfolk, and some began raising their makeshift weapons in earnest. Cries of protest rang from the crowd, and in minutes the whole town was in an uproar. Koli kept his expression impassive; this reaction was something he'd expected. The sheep always needed a little motivation before they turned themselves into willing lambs. He flicked his hand at the nearest man and slowly the farmer rose into the air, crying and raging against his fate. The protests surged forth as Koli held the man aloft in front of the whole crowd. With his magic he amplified his voice, intent on making a spectacle.
"Protest more, mortals, and this is what will befall you!"
He curled his hand into a fist and the man was crushed into a ball, limbs and bones contorted and broken, a loud cry of agony escaping his lips before he fell silent, as did the protests. With his other hand, he released the spectral shackles he kept on his two daemons.
"Daemons, you may feast today. Enjoy."
With a gleeful howl the two winged beasts flew straight for the levitating ball of flesh. They tore into it with a ravenous hunger, splattering the crowd and ground below with blood and gore. As the remaining townsfolk fled screaming, Koli let his voice ring out once again.
"Remember your payment, mortals! I will return at the end of this week to collect your tribute to Xalafoor! If you do not pay, you will all suffer!"
Today was no exception. Their leader, Kethuala, had called the group in to relive the past memories of their earliest ancestors: the original Seven. It was, to quote, an attempt to learn about the Dark Lord, and how they had fought him in eons past. His own ancestor, the Warlock, was one of the evil one's greatest minions, and yet, at the pinnacle of his reign, he and his two other lieutenants defected to fight their former master. He wanted to know how.
He sighed to himself and retreated back into the relative warmth of the cave and sat in front of the fire. If what their leader wanted was information, he would gladly provide.
The man had a name once. This name was a name that struck terror into the hearts of men and gods, for it was a name of such vile disrepute.
The man's name was Koli. He was a warlock.
He served the Dark One, the Demon Lord, oh ye who tore mountains in twain, he who would conquer kingdoms with a flick of his wrist. The most terrifying being in the land, and he was his chief tactician and warlock. He had taught the mages under the Lord's charge how to utilise only the worst, most powerful spells in existence. He wreaked havoc with them, caused much suffering and loss of life. He enjoyed it. Watching the weak and the fools die so that the superior race could take precedence. All for his master, Xalafoor.
Today was no exception. His lord had marked out a village due for their monthly tax collection. They paid in coin and in flesh; the women produced this far north were exceptionally pleasant and full in body. Perfect to serve as slaves for his master's throne room, or as breeders for the army's demons. He was to lead, of course, since the land feared his magics. The threat of a storm of stars raining down upon their heads was a threat they couldn't possibly ignore. He was week prepared enough; his tome of spells hung from his waist and the tattoos of his many, many spells writhed and swam across his flesh. With a flick of his wrist he could turn a man inside out, or fling him across the land, or bury him in the ground, never to escape, or a myriad other punishments for disobeying Xalafoor.
That said, he gathered the scroll upon which the decree was written, rolled it up and stored it within his robe. Then he left his tower, bringing along his two daemon door guards for the trip. It wasn't particularly far away; just a short horse ride to the south.
-----
"...and so, by the end of this week, twelve of your fairest maidens and two thousand gold pieces must be procured and awaiting our arrival. If neither are present when I return, you will face my master's wrath."
A stunned silence fell across the marketplace. The looks of indignation and anger slowly spread through the townsfolk, and some began raising their makeshift weapons in earnest. Cries of protest rang from the crowd, and in minutes the whole town was in an uproar. Koli kept his expression impassive; this reaction was something he'd expected. The sheep always needed a little motivation before they turned themselves into willing lambs. He flicked his hand at the nearest man and slowly the farmer rose into the air, crying and raging against his fate. The protests surged forth as Koli held the man aloft in front of the whole crowd. With his magic he amplified his voice, intent on making a spectacle.
"Protest more, mortals, and this is what will befall you!"
He curled his hand into a fist and the man was crushed into a ball, limbs and bones contorted and broken, a loud cry of agony escaping his lips before he fell silent, as did the protests. With his other hand, he released the spectral shackles he kept on his two daemons.
"Daemons, you may feast today. Enjoy."
With a gleeful howl the two winged beasts flew straight for the levitating ball of flesh. They tore into it with a ravenous hunger, splattering the crowd and ground below with blood and gore. As the remaining townsfolk fled screaming, Koli let his voice ring out once again.
"Remember your payment, mortals! I will return at the end of this week to collect your tribute to Xalafoor! If you do not pay, you will all suffer!"
@TheMusketMan Quick, rewrite. Rewrite!
He heard the gentle splash of water before he saw the warrior touch down.
He got up from his perch and readied his rifle as he saw the warrior appear from seemed to be nowhere. Immediately his brain tagged the newcomer as not being a Viking; the armour was completely different. Something was familiar about her though, the way her armour looked, the way she held her spear. Cho knew where she was from immediately, without having to consult any technology.
A Spartan. She was a Spartan.
Thank you 300.
He slowly advanced forward as she dropped to a crouch and scanned the area, rifle down but at the ready.
In the center of the arena, the plinth began to glow. A small monolith soundlessly rose from its core, polished white marble and intricate carvings. From within this monolith sprang an immense forcefield that encircled the area, glowing a faint blue before it disappeared from view. No doubt its invisibility was meant to keep the aesthetic of the arena itself.
Cho kept an eye on the warrior. Something told him this Spartan was dangerous as Kolskegg was. Warily he stepped closer, raising a hand in greeting.
"Hail, stranger. Were you drawn here as well?"
He got up from his perch and readied his rifle as he saw the warrior appear from seemed to be nowhere. Immediately his brain tagged the newcomer as not being a Viking; the armour was completely different. Something was familiar about her though, the way her armour looked, the way she held her spear. Cho knew where she was from immediately, without having to consult any technology.
A Spartan. She was a Spartan.
Thank you 300.
He slowly advanced forward as she dropped to a crouch and scanned the area, rifle down but at the ready.
In the center of the arena, the plinth began to glow. A small monolith soundlessly rose from its core, polished white marble and intricate carvings. From within this monolith sprang an immense forcefield that encircled the area, glowing a faint blue before it disappeared from view. No doubt its invisibility was meant to keep the aesthetic of the arena itself.
Cho kept an eye on the warrior. Something told him this Spartan was dangerous as Kolskegg was. Warily he stepped closer, raising a hand in greeting.
"Hail, stranger. Were you drawn here as well?"
Name: The Coliseum
Size: One standard football field in size
Properties: Indestructible walls encircle the arena floor.
Player Capacity: 1 v 1 up to a medium sized free for all.
Description:
The arena is oblong, an oval shaped field of battle ruined by time and age. Fallen weapons, broken armour and bones litter the dusty floor, and innumerable cracks and dents line the cold stone walls. Above, the bleachers ring the arena, where faint sounds of cheering and applause are always heard. When a fighter or fighters enter the arena, however, a ghostly crowd roars to life all around. Perhaps the arena is reliving its days as a place of glory and bloodshed.
Flavour Text:
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for Centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for
Size: One standard football field in size
Properties: Indestructible walls encircle the arena floor.
Player Capacity: 1 v 1 up to a medium sized free for all.
Description:
The arena is oblong, an oval shaped field of battle ruined by time and age. Fallen weapons, broken armour and bones litter the dusty floor, and innumerable cracks and dents line the cold stone walls. Above, the bleachers ring the arena, where faint sounds of cheering and applause are always heard. When a fighter or fighters enter the arena, however, a ghostly crowd roars to life all around. Perhaps the arena is reliving its days as a place of glory and bloodshed.
Flavour Text:
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for Centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for
Centuries
“Haze if anybody even thinks of trying to breathe on us without our permission you take them out quicker than you down those drinks that you and Daro are so fond of drinking when -”
"Haze try and find our sniper friend shots came across the market north west of your -"
"Don't worry Nik. I got it."
Haze shifted gently on the roof. He watched his team head down towards the market out the corner of his eye, keeping his rifle trained at their target location. The minutes ticked away slowly, while his team disappeared and entered the frame of his scope. Nik hesitated at...something down an alley, but once they approached the market Nik pulled them aside for their confirmation signal, which promptly came through his comms in the form of two slow clicks. He waited for three seconds, then keyed his mic twice in the same manner. He heard another clicking come through from Olan's end, signaling that their resident hacker was ready. Once Nik brought the team into the market, their contacts emerged from the shadows opposite.
A Quarian, vorcha and an Asari and the quarian was a marine, fancy that. He was also apparently their leader too, as Nik went into some proper negotiations. According to the marine, whose name was Masf something something, the Fists had closed in on Jek's turf and he was away providing support on the front line. Their destination was an old exports warehouse down the way; big, open and defensible. A perfect choice for a base. Haze kept his eyes on the group. Nothing was wrong.
Then, to his left, a glint.
A flash.
The asari lost her head.
Another flash.
The vorcha fell.
Haze began to shift his aim towards the source.
A third flash.
Masf grunted, grabbed his torso and fell.
The words were out of his mouth before the team even moved.
"SNIPER!"
All of a sudden soldiers seemed to rush from the shadows, clad in the familiar red and black of the Fists. Exchanges of fire began across the market square, a grim and familiar sight. Nik grabbed the fallen quarian and moved him behind a stall where he took refuge from the hail of molten death. He caught sight of the drell looking his way just as his voice came through the comms.
Haze shifted gently on the roof. He watched his team head down towards the market out the corner of his eye, keeping his rifle trained at their target location. The minutes ticked away slowly, while his team disappeared and entered the frame of his scope. Nik hesitated at...something down an alley, but once they approached the market Nik pulled them aside for their confirmation signal, which promptly came through his comms in the form of two slow clicks. He waited for three seconds, then keyed his mic twice in the same manner. He heard another clicking come through from Olan's end, signaling that their resident hacker was ready. Once Nik brought the team into the market, their contacts emerged from the shadows opposite.
A Quarian, vorcha and an Asari and the quarian was a marine, fancy that. He was also apparently their leader too, as Nik went into some proper negotiations. According to the marine, whose name was Masf something something, the Fists had closed in on Jek's turf and he was away providing support on the front line. Their destination was an old exports warehouse down the way; big, open and defensible. A perfect choice for a base. Haze kept his eyes on the group. Nothing was wrong.
Then, to his left, a glint.
A flash.
The asari lost her head.
Another flash.
The vorcha fell.
Haze began to shift his aim towards the source.
A third flash.
Masf grunted, grabbed his torso and fell.
The words were out of his mouth before the team even moved.
"SNIPER!"
All of a sudden soldiers seemed to rush from the shadows, clad in the familiar red and black of the Fists. Exchanges of fire began across the market square, a grim and familiar sight. Nik grabbed the fallen quarian and moved him behind a stall where he took refuge from the hail of molten death. He caught sight of the drell looking his way just as his voice came through the comms.
"Haze try and find our sniper friend shots came across the market north west of your -"
"I got it I got it!"
Haze swivelled his rifle over to the left. The shots had come from an apartment building across the way, and he knew what that rifle was: a Viper, some newfangled sniper rifle that supposedly had more stopping power than the Mantis. Psh. He knew better. The only thing that had more power than his Mantis was the fabled Widow; a legend of a rifle that he had only heard stories of.
He turned a knob on the side of his scope and the view within instantly cycled to thermal, and the position of the enemy was immediately clear. There was a vorcha seated on a fallen closet, the rifle gripped tightly in its grubby hands as it took potshots almost gleefully at his team.
Haze tightened his grip on his rifle. First kill of night, right there. He lined up his sights, felt the trigger, then gave it a squeeze.
The Mantis roared.
The vorcha's head disappeared in a multi-coloured splatter.
"Sniper down."
Haze switched off the thermal and immediately returned his scope to the chaos in the market. The assault force was well armed; several turians and a small horde of vorcha made up the main bulk, while three - no, two salarians took up the front. He lined up his sights on the second salarian and squeezed the trigger. His rifle bucked and the alien's chest burst, splattering the ground with blood as he fell. He slapped the heat sink out of his weapon to let it cool while he grabbed his Mattock from his back rigging. The battle rifle unfolded itself in his hands as he shimmied to the left to give himself space. He sighted in on their front line and opened fire, dropping a handful of vorcha as they charged.
"They're charging from the front. Several turians and a whole assload of vorcha. One more salarian. No other flanking movement seen. Keep 'em back, fellas. I'll pin them down."
He peppered the charge with fire, forcing the attackers to stop and take cover.
This mission was off to a swimming start.
It could only get better from here, right?
Haze swivelled his rifle over to the left. The shots had come from an apartment building across the way, and he knew what that rifle was: a Viper, some newfangled sniper rifle that supposedly had more stopping power than the Mantis. Psh. He knew better. The only thing that had more power than his Mantis was the fabled Widow; a legend of a rifle that he had only heard stories of.
He turned a knob on the side of his scope and the view within instantly cycled to thermal, and the position of the enemy was immediately clear. There was a vorcha seated on a fallen closet, the rifle gripped tightly in its grubby hands as it took potshots almost gleefully at his team.
Haze tightened his grip on his rifle. First kill of night, right there. He lined up his sights, felt the trigger, then gave it a squeeze.
The Mantis roared.
The vorcha's head disappeared in a multi-coloured splatter.
"Sniper down."
Haze switched off the thermal and immediately returned his scope to the chaos in the market. The assault force was well armed; several turians and a small horde of vorcha made up the main bulk, while three - no, two salarians took up the front. He lined up his sights on the second salarian and squeezed the trigger. His rifle bucked and the alien's chest burst, splattering the ground with blood as he fell. He slapped the heat sink out of his weapon to let it cool while he grabbed his Mattock from his back rigging. The battle rifle unfolded itself in his hands as he shimmied to the left to give himself space. He sighted in on their front line and opened fire, dropping a handful of vorcha as they charged.
"They're charging from the front. Several turians and a whole assload of vorcha. One more salarian. No other flanking movement seen. Keep 'em back, fellas. I'll pin them down."
He peppered the charge with fire, forcing the attackers to stop and take cover.
This mission was off to a swimming start.
It could only get better from here, right?
Yeah I don't think I'm ranked yet Rilla, and I don't think my writing's up to a ranked standard yet. XD
Oh, and Sword's character's name is Helter Skelter, or simply Hel.
Oh, and Sword's character's name is Helter Skelter, or simply Hel.
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