Avatar of Ezekiel


Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current What's the worst thing about the Roleplayerguild and why is it the status bar?


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

<Snipped quote by Ezekiel>

I'll be sure to contact you if another spot opens up in the future! Keep stalking us as we unfold the story for the TIME Investigators, if you wont ^^

I'll definitely read along as well :)
Oh damn just fell upon this and saw the last spot's been taken.
Have fun! (Do let me know if an opportunity to rustle something up arises, been wanting to play a CoC game for a long while)

“Hae se mele tubis iksos se lektos cracks se jēdar.”

It was never truly cold within Dragonstone, the thermal forces rising from the depths which had made it the ideal outpost of the Targaryen lineage searing the cave systems with heat. However, when she spoke those words, the same heat seemed to leech out of the air, rushing into twin wooden effigies, their wicker forms soon lighting with a fire which robed the rest of the room of colour.

“Hail to you, Aegon Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, known to us as the Conqueror.” The speaker knelt on both knees before the twin fires, watching the steady progress of immolation rise up the figures within. As the magic she worked pulled its power from the land around it, it also pulled on her, the age in her bones beginning to ache with pain. It was not a regular sensation for her, but for these moments she had to allow the ravages of time to steadily march on.

“Hail to you, Queen Rhaenys, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of Dragonstone.” It had only been in recent years that she had lit this second candle, the faintest of hope remaining that she might see the true face of its image again. But then, the fire had lit, and her hope had failed. The speaker was silent for a moment, keeping her head dipped, before she made to rise. Despite the pain that flared through her, she managed it in one motion, as defiant against that as any other she had faced in her life.

“Fair Eve, my loves.” When she spoke again, some of that strength rushed out of Visenya, standing before the images of her siblings as equals, rather than the subservience the nature of the spellwork required. The figures were carved as she remembered them, Aegon in his advancing years, still bearing the strength of his form, but still, slowly, collapsing into the softness that even athletic men of advancing age can rarely suppress entirely. Rhaenys was still as she had been when she had been stolen, taken in the prime of her life. It had been many long years, but she could recall every curve and line of her smile, and worked it into the wood which steadily burned.

“I need your guidance….or perhaps simply your company. I am sorry to trouble your rest beyond with such things, but you cannot begrudge me this.” Suddenly, a small amount of the warmth returned to the room, rushing through her. For a moment she thought the ritual had failed, but then she laughed, a rare noise. The warmth was not the fires of Dragstone returning, they were with her. “Thank you.” She breathed softly, a hand brushing over her own features.

“Your plan to have these people accept us is failing, Aegon, these men of Westeros and their Seven Gods, that you both cared to placate.” The King himself had taken to working some of the devices of the Seven onto his own arms and armour. When she had recreated his effigy, she could not bring herself to do so, bearing only the three headed dragon which was their symbol. The only symbol which mattered. “I warned you, the only way they would learn was through our way, Fire and Blood. That is how we could save this world. We gave them slackness on their leash, and now they have turned to bite us…. But it is only me of us who will feel those teeth.” Her tone was sorrowful, as opposed to condemning. She wished they had been right, or more, she wished they were will with her.

“How much longer must I linger here, my dearest? These long years without you both, living among Andal Savages, who have the arrogance to call our blood abominations? This land, it has tainted our children. I took Maegor away, perhaps there is some hope for him, but your son, he is more of this land than ours, he does not act.” Something of the warmth in the room receded again, yet the fires grew brighter. She felt judgment there, rebuke from those who watched from the great flames of the Beyond. “Do you not think I have tried? That I have not given council to him? If the time of the Song is coming, this land will fall. All the dragonfire we can muster could not save it.” While she might look a woman of almost half her age, in the moment she felt all seven decades of her long life weighing on her, a life where those she fought most to protect had often ignored her council, no more so than now. “Please…It would be so easy to join you…the Song may come to pass, it may not, I do not care. What is this land but a reminder that I alone still stand to hold true to your vision, brother?” The fires flared brighter, forcing her away, even as the wood consumed itself at a greater rate. She had never feared heat, but she could not withstand this assault. With a paniced gasp, she relented.

“Then I will do what I must. The King must be strong, for what is to come.”

I can't 'thank' this due to liking it before, which is my usual method of marking acceptance.

Consider yourself accepted!
Hi all!

I've just kicked off an RP set in the Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire setting, the OOC is already up with a few players signed on, but still certainly looking for applications! We also have a discord!

The era of the RP is set early in the history of a unified Westeros, with King Aenys I Targaryen as King, just before the rebellion of the Faith Militant kicks off. If you'd be interested in writing during a time where the idea of a unified Westeros was still new, certainly check it out!

A Song of Ice and Fire: The Swords And Stars


Give me priests who are fat and corrupt and cynical, the sort who like to sit on soft satin cushions, nibble sweetmeats, and diddle little boys. It's the ones who believe in gods who make the trouble.
Tyrion Lannister

IC outline:
Although the uprising began during the reign of King Aenys I Targaryen, the first seeds were already planted during the reign of his father, King Aegon I Targaryen. Before the birth of Aenys's children, his younger half-brother Maegor was regarded as his heir. However, Aenys was wed in 22 AC, and his first child, Princess Rhaena, was born the next year. Her birth sparked the discussion of the line of succession, as it was unclear whether Maegor remained second in the line of succession or whether he fell behind the newborn Rhaena. In 24 AC, shortly after Maegor turned twelve, his mother Queen Visenya Targaryen proposed a betrothal between Rhaena and Maegor to settle the issue of the royal succession. However, both Prince Aenys and his wife and the High Septon protested. The High Septon suggested his own niece, Lady Ceryse Hightower, as a bride for the young prince instead. Maegor and Ceryse were subsequently wed in 25 AC at the Starry Sept in Oldtown, in a ceremony officiated by the High Septon himself.

Maegor's second marriage angered many. Ceryse's father, Lord Martyn Hightower, protested the marriage to King Aenys and demanded that Maegor set Alys aside. The High Septon denounced the marriage as sin and fornication and called Alys "this whore of Harroway." Many of the pious lords in the realm similarly condemned the marriage, and openly began to call Alys "Maegor's Whore". Maegor remained defiant, however, citing that his father had taken two wives as well, claiming that the strictures of the Faith did not rule the blood of the dragon.

Maegor quarreled bitterly with his brother over the marriage, as the king had neither known of the marriage prior to the ceremony, nor given his leave for it. Eventually, Aenys made Maegor choose between setting Alys aside or going into exile for five years. Maegor chose the latter, and left for Pentos in 40 AC. The High Septon was not yet satisfied, however, so Aenys appointed Septon Murmison as his new Hand of the King, but even he could not heal the rift between the Iron Throne and the Faith.

The situation worsened in 41 AC, when Aenys wed his daughter Rhaena and son Aegon to one another. The High Septon sent Aenys a denunciation, addressing him as "King Abomination". The uprising was about to begin, and even the pious lords and smallfolk, who had loved Aenys turned against the king.

OOC outline:
Hello there! It's another GoT/ASOIAF RP in the style that myself and a few others have hosted plenty of times over the years, most recently with A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion. Those who are familiar with this style of play likely know what you're in for, but for those that may not be so, here is a fine summation of how the RP shall proceed, with some minor alterations to remove the era specifics of that brief.

Generally, players will create their own house and roleplay with several members of it. This means each player is entitled to several characters per house. However, they do not all have to be members of said house by ties of blood. Instead you can use several types of characters as points of views. Naturally there are other options in the world of Westeros, such as Septons, hedge knights, spies and spymasters, mercenaries and many more. Evidently, this is a game set in the world of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire fantasy series, as well as the short stories of the Hedge Knight, and most recently HBO's adaption series 'Game of Thrones' and 'House of the Dragon'. This is, however, an 'Alternate Universe' game. While canon is where our story begins...it will certainly not be where it ends.

Most importantly this game will continue the tradition of a hybrid approach of sandbox and storyline RP all our prior games have had. Who will we play? Lords high and small, members of their households, smallfolk, prelates, mercenaries, knights, damsels, This doesn't mean you cannot (re)create a house from scratch. Possibilities are legion, and mostly limited only by your imagination (or GM approval). So go ahead, plot and scheme with or against your fellow players.

To further address the point of player creativity, this rp is set in the early period of the Targaryen Rule, only a single generation has passed since the Conquest and the Realm still quakes beneath the changes imposed upon it. Westeros is very much a land of Kingdoms forged together in flame, it's capital of King's Landing is barely the largest settlement in the Crownlands, let alone the wider continent and none have yet conceived of the King's Road. This is an almost mythological age, where even what is written can hardly be considered to be in stone. Combined with there being larger gaps than usual in our games to fill by player creativity, I will also be allowing players to modify what we do know of the era to a greater extent, although I would suggest running such ideas by me first!

OOC Rules and Guidelines:

  • Advanced standards; common sense approach; game of logic and collaboration.
  • Character Sheets should be posted on the OOC (though they can be sent via pm as well) for approval/disapproval. Not all decisions will be made public. Approved sheets go in the approved section.
  • You are assumed to be an adult by submitting a character for this game; please act like one.
  • Players playing Great Lords will have the chance to weigh in on applications for Minor Lords under their Great Lord.
  • Applications may take a few days before a decision can be made. Generally issues will be resolved over pm (forum or Discord)
  • Players are encouraged to play typically one-on-one scenarios, large battle scenarios, cloak-and-dagger scenarios, small plots and large plots. To be creative, and to interactive with their fellow players on their own to plot. Take initiative.


In the brief moments that existed before the arrival of the spattering of humans, the brief moments where there was still a possibility the day could have been a quiet, but solemn one, Magneto had asked the question that had niggled at him for the last few interactions he had with Jean Grey.

"Even Charles does not call me Max, not to suggest there are not differences between him and me, and you, but he knows those times of my life better than most." It was an unusual number of words for the usually precise Magento, and he would have to admit to himself that despite his experience of years, there was something about her that made him grasp for words in a way he had not for a long time. Equally, while the implication was otherwise, he avoided 'better than you' when you spoke with telepaths like Xavier and Jean Grey, they could know your own history better than you. "Why the change?" A simple question, for a complicated issue, interrupted by the arrival of the sort of blacked out vehicle which usually meant you were either meeting the Federal Government or the local cartel. In his experience on this continent, the distinction had always eluded him.

If there was another present with similar gifts to the finely, if slightly old fashioned, dressed mutant, the slight hum in the air would no doubt notice the subtle change in the air. All around them small metallic objects buzzed with the slight force of his attention, their focus trained gently to move through the air should he need them. The firearms in the possession of those stepping forth onto the street would be found to be most inoperable should they be drawn, only temporarily, but that's all that mattered.

He clasped the man's hand in greeting and decided roughly in that moment he would likely prove to be one of his preferred representatives of the United States various agencies he had met. This meant little in his evaluation of the man along lines that mattered, he had murdered people he had loved and spared those he hated when the cause was involved, but it would at least make the walk a more pleasant experience.

"Mr Joseph," It was a simple enough greeting, but the nod of polite respect he gave the man did much to suggest he simply wished to not insult his intelligence by feeling the need to give his own introduction. "The Birth of Krakoa is an apt name for it, if future communications to your government should be run through yourself I will be happy to inform our Council, although you may forgive our hesitation with divisions named as yours's is." The 'Mutant Desk' was never normally a pleasant term, not for those it had been created to monitor.

The formal meeting of state representatives, however different in their roles, was put aside for the moment as Magneto turned his attention to Paul Bailey, offering him another nod and smile of greeting, that was several degrees less political and several degrees more conversational, even as he walked ahead with Jean "Mr Bailey, pleased to meet you." In other circumstances he would likely allude to some support should he need against the government that had propelled him here, but that seemed a little unnecessary given the situation.

"Do forgive me if I am straight to business, but I had hoped to pay respects to a departed family friend on this day, what matter brings federal agents to attend us? I do so hope it is something a little more interesting than fear of our presence."

The carousel, despite it being the nexus of the Krakoan community, was not particularly busy at the time, a state of affairs which suited Magneto quite well. Much had been done to establish Mutants in their own nation, a people apart. It had not been the future most had hoped for, but it had been necessary. It was a truth he had known for longer than most, a lesson learned and earned many times over.

Yet here he was, preparing to attend the most human of occasions, a ceremony that, should matters remain as they were for mutantkind, need never again occur for his own people. Before he had been Magneto, however, he had been Max Eisenhardt, born to a people that were bound together tighter than most, across borders jealously guarded by other peoples, but mostly ignored by them. It was a closeness, much like mutantkind, forged by necessity, from the predations of outsiders. It had damned and saved them countless times, and it was not something he could ignore, not forever.

So the helmet had been removed, the white and black of Magneto replaced with a finely tailored suit of the same colouring, a silver chain hanging from the centre of his waistcoat to one pocket. He had been told that this, along with the flat cap position atop his white shock of hair had become fashionable once more, but to him it was simply the style of his choice, from a lifetime of altering tastes among the wider human people. He supposed there were some advantages to being a man out of his era.

He had been preparing to leave for some time, waiting for no particular moment among the sparse spattering of mutants going to and thro. Their presence only amplified the debate within him, these were his people, not those beyond the portal. When he had finally exhaled and taken to cross the threshold, a familiar voice resounded within his head itself.

"Hold a moment."

"I will not be long, Miss Frost, I am sure Krakoa will survive for a day," The sudden thought something had arisen that might prevent him from paying his respects was not a comfortable one, and it was one which convinced him, finally, that is was the right thing to do, even if simply for himself, and those who had been lost along the way. No reply was forthcoming from the telepath, however, and so he did as instructed, pausing, not wishing to risk any ire from a lack of patience.

Then he saw her, the crest of red hair over black and brown, drifting through the air itself. It was a sight many would enjoy, he was sure, but when he beheld her there was more to his understanding. Was that not how the humans depicted their divinities? The song of angels on high, Christ descending among them. As the woman who had been the Phoenix touched down, boot-clad feet onto grass, his mind considered just how much destiny shifted around her, around all mutants. Only her voice, spoken aloud unlike Emma's, snapped him from such considerations.

"Miss Grey, keenly observed as ever, although perhaps knowing the machinations of a certain mutual connection, I believe we may be heading in the same direction." Something of the Head Masterly tone entered his words as he spoke, it was not entirely deliberate, for their times at Xavier's school had never intersected, beyond the somewhat awkward number of times he had been trying to destroy the place. "While I do suspect of the two of us, she considers me the risk that needs managing, I may pretend at least otherwise, and ask if do not mind for me to accompany you?" He tilted one hand towards the portal, as one might have a carriage door, in ages past.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet