Status

Recent Statuses

5 days ago
Current I hope to be able to fix my health issue till weekend and finally resume posting up to this point.
7 days ago
Currently sick and struck with writer's block at the same time.
22 days ago
Going for pending replies either later today or tomorrow.
26 days ago
How about: 'Super annoying power companies are unwilling to give us anything better than a third world power grid that is knocked out by nothing more than their boss blowing his fart too vigorously ?'
1 mo ago
Trying to work my way along the response queue today and tomorrow.

Bio



Welcome to my profile page!


Who the hell is this person behind those many miles of fiber optics and copper cable ?

  • I'm a 30 year old guy.
  • ... from Germany
  • ... who's working as an embedded system's engineer.


Where the hell did you get that nickname?

Once I played an undead warrior in a fantasy RP. His skin was badly burnt. The other players found him to be a funny being and started making jokes that his skin would come apart in a fierce fight, effectively making him dispense scraps of it all over the place. Therefore he'd be a 'scrap-warrior' and 'scrap' translates to German as 'Fetzen'. I found that name to be better suited than my old one, so I adopted it.


And into which hell will I descend with you participating in one of my roleplays?

  • I'm a fantasy addict: medieval high and low!
  • I'd consider myself to be a low casual roleplayer, 3 paragraphs per post on average.
  • My schedule varies. It might happen that I won't be able to post at all for a week, but then again it might happen that I'll reach a sweet spot inside which I can go on a posting rampage. I'd say one can expect 1-2 posts a week from me, depending on the lengths involved.
  • Beware! I love 'strange' characters!
  • English is not my native language, but so far I've not encountered anyone who had had trouble with me over that :)
  • Both Skype and Discord are not unknown variables to me.


Want to RP with me ? Shoot me a PM, but don't shoot me!



Thanks for visiting!

Most Recent Posts

You all posted within 10 days time! W00T!


This is a flat-out self-accusation, but... I haven't. At least according to my memory. Because I suck and am procrastinating like hell these weeks due to all my work, writer's block and other things :/
Approaching the and arriving in the city had been smooth sailing, routing operation. The relative open-mindedness of the people, the comforting fact that one could still stock up on supplies even relatively late in the evening and the huge availability of choices in terms of taverns to have a night's stay in were all things Týfurkh could appreciate, but that small part inside him just had felt it to be a bit too close to the brink of utter boredom. Of course people had turned their heads as they saw him striding through the narrow streets, guiding his horse Jafnir behind him, but that was nothing he wasn't completely used to.

The place that had become his ultimate choice was in a somewhat delapidated state. Small, narrow and cramped in between other buildings of greater size it really was a very far cry from a beautiful sight, but it had been dirt cheap and the local he had questioned had told him that The Rusting Nail actually was better inside than it looked outside. After a short squeezing action through the doorframe, Týfurkh had found out that this, in fact, was true. Not too many spots where beer had once been littered on the wooden floorboards months or even years ago, no rainwater dripping down from the ceiling and enough candles to keep everything illuminated sufficiently. A massive increase in ventilation would have served the place well though, but Týfurkh had not mentioned this to the man behind the counter once he had shoved his enormous self through the small crowd of patrons.

The fellow had identified himself as Bob, a freshman who, according to a regular visitor of this place, had started working there just on that day and had never been seen before. Instincts had told Týfurkh to double-check any food Bob would provide him with -- one could never know with inexperienced people. Surprisingly though the first chunk of roasted beef had turned out to be of such a superior taste and tenderness that Týfurkh had decided to eat a double portion. The second one however had turned out to have the consistency of rugged leather. No, the thing actually had been leather. A piece of parchment, to be precise. And the words written on it had still been in such a good shape that Týfurkh's eyes had found no difficulty catching them before his mind cold have ordered his mouth to complain about the meal.

Hello.

I have to apologize for the inconvenience, but you are one of the more elusive persons to catch up to. I am Bob and I have an important message for you: Beneath its cold and calm surface this city is on the brink of collapse without knowing. Do have a good night's sleep and give yourself as much rest as possible, but do not entrust yourself to anyone for he or she most likely will either be a member of a cult that is trying to take over the city by the power of a distortion or one of its victims. I can give you instructions about how to protect yourself from insight, but I can't protect you from any more physical side effects a mass outbreak of madness will have. Consider yourself being in danger, be prepared for having to make a rapid retreat.

Yet there is hope. Once things break loose you should head to another place in town immediately. There is a bunch of people you should become friends with not only to improve everybody's chances of survival including your own, but also in order to try and save the city of at least a smaller, remaining part of it.

I know you're a good man, right ? Don't disappoint me, don't disappoint yourself. Sorry for the interruption, but I'd highly appreciate if you wouldn't tell anybody about this. I will serve you another, true piece of meat within minutes.


To say that Týfurkh had found this to be disturbing would have been a massive understatement, but even strange messages should be taken into consideration sometimes. He had had a gut feeling of this being serious, so he had decided to rent a room on the first floor only -- a place where on could jump from if necessary.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen over the horizon and started to send its red rays into the small chamber, Týfurkh woke up. He had kept the window open in order to allow some fresh air in, but now people were really overdoing it with their chimney fires... Or were they ? He raised himself to his full height and didn't even to fully turn towards the window in order to notice there was more to it: Fire! Not one house was burning, but half the street already. And even if one put one's standards as low as 'people frantically running around and crying for water and other help' there weren't any efforts about extinguishing the mess to be seen, only... carnage. A lot of carnage, including guts slashed open and bodies lying on other bodies already.

Týfurkh strapped on his shoulder plates, reached for his crossbow and jumped. He had slept in as much armor as he could possibly do while sleeping at all, so not much time was wasted. The impact he made on the ground was a very tremendous one, but his kneeds and thighs could take the strain. He had to get to his other place Bob had mentioned, but should he ride ? No... while faster, he would also have to avoid any obstalces that could be overcome on one's own feet otherwise. So, though very reluctantly, he freed Jafnir from the stable and allowed his animal companion to roam freely, to try and save itself.

Then he started running. It didn't seem as if the raging madness had spared anyone at this point, a few of them even tried to choose him as their next victim but failed. Týfurkh tried to make this quick, pushing himself closer to his limits as he was running, jumping and evading people and burning debris alike. Then he saw something... A... staircase ? A construct that obviously shouldn't be here. It appeared as if another, more and more ruined tavern was nearby and he tried to catch a glimpse at Chres' face. Bob had written down a visual description of whom to look for and this appeared to be a somewhat precise match. Týfurkh set up a message, one that by the power of his magic was neither disturbed by his heavy breathing nor shouted in order to get through. A very efficient, very narrow channel throug which his words were focused in order to reach the other man's ears alone:

"Wait for me!"
I'll post tomorrow at the latest. Finally have some time.
I'm currently ill and partially writer's blocked. I hope to be up and running soon. Sorry for the huge delay :/
I think I will make my post end with my character arriving in rather close proximity to the tavern. So it doesn't get too long and gives the opportunity of an encounter between mine and any other character who tries to make his way out of the tavern the straight way. How does that sound ?
Here's my application. Sorry it took so long.




Name: Othuoy

Gender: undefined

Age: 34

Race: Gargoyle

Appearance: Standing at a not so impressive 5'9", Othuoy is far from being particular in terms of height and can easily hide himself in a dense crowd. However the same cannot be said about his skin: It is of a pale, gray-ish complexion with irregular variations in hue that does not lack some eery semblance with stone. Also it is leathery and a tad more rigid than a human's. Overall body proportions are normal, but his hands and feet exhibit claws which can both be very sharp or blunt, depending on if he has decided to cut them or not. His eyes don't have any visible iris, but instead comprise a pair of large, monochromatic dark orbs. Hair is there, even long but almost white. He has no beaks, but massive, wound horns that, starting from his forehead, grow backwards in a wide arc. Othuoy is extremely muscular all over the place and outweighs much taller individuals with his unnaturally dense, packed body. The pair of massive, almost bat-like wings also goes into this equation.

In an human environment he tries to make much of himself as invisible and unconspicuous as he can. It starts with tucking his wings close to his body and wrapping a coat around it, including a large hood to make his horns disappear in the shadows beneath it. Sometimes he even applies paint to his face since looking very pale is better than looking very... stoned.

Nationality: Outsider

Magic: Othuoy is not capable of casting magic.

Backstory: Gargoyles still pose a significant mystery to contemporary scholars. What is known is that their bodies truly originate from the statues carved by dedicated chiselers in order to be attached to sacred buildings, but the process of one of them coming alive has never been observed as of yet. Undoubtedly magic is involved, but since no maniac has been identified who could be capable and willing to pull off such a feat it is assumed that their birth is a very rare event caused by a quirk of nature -- or some kind of spell that has been cast onto the world before the writing of history.

In any case this pretty much deprives every of the species' members of anything that could be considered an ordinary childhood or familiar bonds. Othuoy has neither of them. He has been thrown into the world by sheer chance and exactly the way he still is physically, trying to survive in an environment that not seldomly regards him as a beast or as an attractive object to study. Since it took him long to try and learn the human language without any help, he was unable to remember the name of the village he started off. He has never returned in time to see it again before its downfall in one of the many acts of war.

He has survived all of it so far and even with little bloodshed. Due to the rarity of his kind, contacts with other gargoyles have been very sparse and he currently has noone around him that he could truly call a close friend except for one person. Her name is Orla Lafayette, a noble woman who takes great pride in her magic. It's kind of a symbiosis: She has an unique opportunity to study one of the great magical oddities the world has to offer while he has a place he can take refuge at, have a meal and even receive care for any wounds sustained. That doesn't stop him from trying to make contact with other individuals though, but so far those attempts have not been very successful.

On his many travels he is usually seen alone. He travels a lot, eager to see other places of the mysterious world noone had ever explained to him as much as a mother or father would do.

Skills:
  • Athletics
  • Acrobatics
  • Animal Handling
  • Medicine
  • Survival
  • Persuasion


Personality:
Othuoy is a very self-sufficient individual, strong-willed but with a fair share of pessimism being his steady companion. That doesn't mean he'd be hesitant in any way, he's just not the type who breaks in jubilance just because there is a plan. Instead he's prone to focus in on the risks. In general it is relatively easy to reach him, but he still has some deficits when it comes to some social customs he could hardly ever pick up any experience with. One of those weak spots are large crowds -- he hates them, they make his stress level blast through the top and urge him to leave. Overall one can say that he lacks experience, but certainly not intelligence. He's quite adaptive in terms of logic and mathematics, even though he'd write down many things a bit different than others would for he practically has been an almost complete self-educator for the vast majority of his life.

Equipment:
  • Thick woolen coat, impregnated with an alchemistic concoction to make it resistant to dirt and water and with a large hood attached to it.
  • Riding horse: While he can fly short distances, it still is a very useful asset.
  • Food and water. A lot of it.
I'll try to get my first post up within the next few days. I hope that's okay for everyone ?
Yep, I've found a sweet spot of time and posted my character. I hope you all can like it :)
Týfurkh Gandjar


Name: Týfurkh Gandjar
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Asexual
Age: 27
Home Nation: Hearing
Appearance:

Týfurkh certainly has not the most bulging of muscles, but what he has, including his bones, is very dense, sturdy and strong. He's clearly V-shaped and at no less than seven feet five inches a very imposing presence. This has been caused by the medical condition of giantism.

Bio:
Týfurkh was born in the village of Mavaughal, a small settlement at the western shore of Lake Echo, north-east of Symphare. Aside from the fact that it quickly became obvious that his body grew much larger than usual his early youth can be considered quite uneventful. He has his younger brother, Madawc, had to do the field work their aging parents could only do to a lesser and lesser degree. They were far away from any real trouble: No unexpected plagues, no invasion, only the occasional brawl in the local tavern which Týfurkh excelled at again and again.

It was at the age of 16 when he broke one of his thighs in an accident. Somewhat immobilized and left in insecurity if he'd ever make a complete recovery, he had to spent his time in the village with Madawc caring for him. During this time, Týfurkh met a rather mysterious man that called himself Haljot. He claimed to be some kind of medic and magician without going into details. He looked at the rugged mess that had once been Týfurkh's leg, but he didn't offer any bandages, salves or herbs that at least could relieve him of the pain, but a small crystal attached to a thick leather strap. He told him to tie it carefully around his leg, let it do its work and be patient. Týfurkh did as requested, hoping for some miracle to take place. The thing started to vibrate gently, no, it purred just like a cat. He didn't notice it at first, but the constant exposure to this kind of movement indeed massively boosted the healing process.

Haljot never came back to retrieve the crystal after it had done its work, but he had told Týfurkh to come to the town of Symphare if he'd 'be interested'. Inspite of not knowing what all of this was about he was, so soon he stood at what turn out to be the small entrance to the Order of Canor. At first it appeared to be a very peace-loving society of what one could call monks, but Týfurkh was told that his stature would make him very well suited for a warrior. The order proved to know how to do marketing so to speak. They gave him several demonstrations of what could be achieved after years of training and openly asked if he'd be willing to join. They'd be in need of people like him and that the encounter with Haljot in the local tavern had not been entirely random after all.

Týfurkh agreed. He first had to deal with all of the familiy business though. Luckily for him his brother Madawc was a lot more attached to his native soil than he was. Maybe both of them, along with the Order who apparently was to eager to make him one of its members, also could already sense the growing anxiety of war in Saencila and how the political system was destabilizing. Maybe Mavaughal would stop to be a peaceful, unharmed and innocent village one day, and in case of that a warrior could be of help.

Training proved to be hard and quite frustrating at first, but the constant telling that this was nothing out of the ordinary kept Týfurkh at bay. He has been a member of the order for eight years by now and with experience and some rank came freedom. He has been tasked to be an agent, someone who heads out, gathers information about the state of the different parts of the world and reports back to those listening posts who are still active despite all the turmoil. He can go whereever he wants as long as he sticks to a few rules of how to behave, doesn't tell everybody about the order and keeps them roughly informed about his status.

Personality: He's a calm dude, at least in most situations. To make him truly angry could be considered a considerable achievement, to make him lose his head in the metaphorical sense due to external stress as well. He can accept the opinions of others if he's convinced of their superiority, however he's also rather direct and outspoken when it comes to criticism. He won't hold back with his own thoughts almost no matter what. Týfurkh is not used to large numbers of people, instead he prefers to stay with few or on his own if there's the possibility. If he feels overwhelmed, he prefers taking a more shy stance than usual.
Quirks:
Skills/Magic:


Weaknesses: At his size he's not exactly dextrous, not even very fast despite his immensively long legs. His weight more often than not also is the root cause for issues of various kinds, some hilarious, others very serious.

Equipment/Items:
  • Massive crossbow and a quiver of bolts of very high quality. However it is not enchanted.
  • Full-body armor made out primarily of leather but with some large metal parts included as well.
  • Food and water for one or two days without resupply.
YAY YOU ALL DID IT IN TIME! Simply await my update, please.


To be frankly speaking, I smell a slight bit of sarcasm.
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