Drakey

[Hollow Earth Aftermath] Urban Creatures: Contracts (Died of Natural Causes)

@Traps

I am so sorry, Life has been a bitch!!!

I'll have a response for the tavern later today!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Deleted

The Parallel Campaign - An Expansive Spacefaring RPG

Tony walked across the mid deck of his ship. His partner, Mandrin, was standing at the ship’s helm while Serpent, herself, piloted the ship. Her black mass stretched along for 300 meters. Her hangar bays, stretches of steel that sat along her bottom edge, had been slung open shortly before. His drones, most of which were battle drones floated next to the Serpent lazily, but a few of them were mining and scavenging drones. With the Serpent parked right next to a small asteroid, she was busy mining away at the space rock.

Walking down the ship’s hall, Tony’s jacket swayed behind him. His gloves stretched as he cracked his knuckles. Irritation was plainly painted onto his face as his black boots walked over the dark grey floors. His eyes, red with cybernetic circuitry, stared out unblocked, his long hair having been tied back already. His right arm refused to flex as he stretched his muscles. It was metal after all, and metal does not flex. Instead, the red circuitry that laid beneath his skin flashed as he walked. Reaching the doors to the flight deck, Tony shouted.

“Serpent! What the hell!” His deep voice reverberated off the walls as he tugged on his gloves. “Tiberius sent a message several hours ago. Why the hell didn’t you call for me? He was supposed to give us another job. What the hell am I supposed to do if he decides to give the job to some other half-assed mercenary because I was asleep?”

Taken aback, Serpent responded, her face appearing on the ship’s main monitor. “Drauger, You have been working with Tiberius and his father for the past thirty years. Tiberius has always given you preferential treatment when it comes to jobs. As such I thought that it wouldn’t matter whether or not you were awake for him.”

Irritation covered Tony’s face as Serpent responded. “Doesn’t matter anymore, patch me into Tiberius. That kid better pick up the phone.”

Mandrin just sighed as he heard the back and forth between Tony and Serpent. He knew that Tony didn’t actually give a shit whether or not he was up when Tiberius called. The captain just wasn’t a morning person. As such, his outbursts after he gets up are usually ignored between the ship and Mandrin.

Warrior Cats; The Valley

@ViolentViolet

Here is Ashclaw:

My Hider

Image



Description:
12 lbs; 14 inches tall at the shoulder; 40 inches long; 10 inch tail (As mostly Maine Coon, Ashclaw is still growing and will not reach full growth until 36 moons of age)

A large cat, Ashclaw has always been surprisingly slender. His muscles, while strong, are lithe and cordlike. His heavy coat is a dark red, with the black markings resembling a tiger crossing over the back. His paws, large and strong, are black. The left front bearing a long, white scar suffered from his childhood. The tip of his tail is snow white and black fur runs along the edges of his ears. His eyes are a startling ash grey.

Name: Ashclaw
Previous Name(s): Ashkit, Ashpaw,
Breed: Maine Coon,Norwegian Forest Cat/Persian/American Wirehair cat
Age: 16 Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: Cliffclan, formerly of Lightclan
Rank: Warrior
Mentor(s): Adderfang (Formerly, NPC), Frogshade (The Elvenqueen)
Apprentice(s): N/A
Parents: Crowflight (NPC), Beetlewing (NPC)
Sibling(s): Darkpaw (deceased), Cinderblaze (The Elvenqueen), ???
Mate(s): None for now, but might consider a having one. Doesn’t matter which clan they happen to be from either.
Kit(s): N/A

Brief History & Personality:

Much like his elder sister, Ashclaw was born into Lightclan. The biggest of his litter, though not the bulkiest, Ashclaw easily remained at the top. However, that is where his similarities with his sister stops. Growing up with the tales of his brother’s death, Ashclaw was convinced that there was something wrong with Lightclan. While he never held anything against his sister, seeing her as merely a product of her environment, Ashclaw did blame the clan itself.

It wasn’t until his apprentice days that his mentality was found out. Ashclaw had been pitted against another apprentice, one far weaker than he. However, when the time to strike a killing blow came, Ashclaw refused. Turning away from his defeated opponent, the other cat attacked him. A long white scar has been on his front paw ever since. Only then did he incapacitate his enemy, but still, Ashclaw refused to kill him. Claiming that the fight had become an execution, Ashclaw was resoundly kicked out by the clan.

Disowned by his family, the young apprentice travelled across the forest. Eventually, he stumbled into Cliffclan territory, which would have been bad under most circumstances. However, he met Frogshade. Taking him under her wing, Ashclaw quickly completed his training under Cliffclan tutelage. Becoming one of the most accomplished apprentices in a remarkably short period of time, Ashclaw earned his warrior name only 4 moons ago.

While a kind cat, Ashclaw is rather antisocial. Preferring to sleep away from the clan proper, Ashclaw has made his home on the other side of the quarry, near the top. He spends much of his time among the trees, leaping from branch to branch, training his balance. He has also taken to traversing the rocky plains that stretch across Cliffclan’s border with Boulderclan. Being a strong swimmer, Ashclaw, when he has the time, genuinely enjoys swimming in the river that passes through Cliffclan territory.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

ohhhh, interested.

The City of the Dead - Post Apocalyptic Medieval Fantasy

Climbing up the side of one of the roots, Rhoth was able to pull himself out from the grave he had found himself in. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten their, nor could he remember anything other than his name. Whenever his sight fell upon the towers of Veldrick, an insationable anger welled up within his gut. Finding purchase for his hands, weak from time but getting stronger with every passing moment, Rhoth hauled his nearly naked body up the side of the root. Gasping for air, he rolled over the grass that covered the top of the ledge that had loomed over him just minutes before. Brushing off the dust that gathered on his body, the undead man found his feet. Standing up, awkward from a time not done, Rhoth peered out to which the light had shone from. In the middle of the great root that spanned the chasm, the man could see the limp form of a corpse. A sword was stuck into the wood that ran next to it, the light hung from the hilt.

The Dead Knight and Armor

Finding sturdy purchase for his feet, Rhoth stepped out over the chasm. Its presence sending a trickle of fear into the undead’s still heart. While he got the feeling that he wouldn’t die, Rhoth would still not prefer to experience it. Moving slowly, he advanced on the limp corpse, its features becoming clearer with every step. The body, now rotten, had worn a strong set of armor. A green coat, covered in a metal breastplate and scaled chain, hung from its waist. Boots, made by a master blacksmith adorned its shrivelled feet.

Something about the corpse struck Rhoth as odd. It was shrivelled, dried up, with no signs of true decomposition. His brows, furrowed in confusion, watched the body carefully. As Rhoth’s hand closed upon the hilt of the dead man’s sword, the lantern went out. Falling from the hilt, the glass lantern smashed against the root of the great tree. As if it was some signal, the corpse began to rise. In fearful hurry, Rhoth ripped the sword from its wooden sheath just as the long-dead knight reached out for its ancient weapon.

Taking a few steps back, Rhoth watched as the undead grasped at the air, seemingly confused. Then, in a lunging motion, the knight jumped at Rhoth, trying to obtain its sword. Falling short onto the oak root, Rhoth lunged forward as well. Bringing the point of the knight’s blade down upon the back of the corpse’s neck, the point of the sword bit into the root underneath. With a wind that had not existed moments before, the old knight’s body fell apart into dust. A whirlwind, laced with the disintegrated body that once stood, fell upon Rhoth. Screams, laughter, and tears flowed into the man as he felt fragments of human souls enter him.

Breathing heavily, Rhoth donned the rusted armor that had been left behind. Holding the hand-and-a-half sword tightly, the undead began the long treck towards Veldrick. A small, silver ring, one that would be worn be a woman, hung from his neck.

The City of the Dead - Post Apocalyptic Medieval Fantasy

@BespeckledCeph

Hey Ceph,

If you turn into the conniptions guy from DS III, I WILL kill you, no questions asked.

Pilots Wanted! A Titanfall RP

@OfWindAndRain

Oh, no problem! You weren't rude at all, and I will always appreciate any criticism that helps my posts fit into the world.

Warrior Cats; The Valley

hmmm ok, I haven't read the books in like ten years so I didn't remember it all that well. But yea, that was more to be a snapshot of his personality...

I'm alright with being a Loner. But I have one question:

Can he use traps?

PS How was it from an objective view? I'm asking so as to improve my own writing.

Pilots Wanted! A Titanfall RP

@OfWindAndRain

there fixed it!