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1 yr ago
Current Really need a fantasy RP. Someone hit me up if you got one/know one that's pretty active rn
2 likes
1 yr ago
Have fun with that then :)
1 yr ago
On the other hand, if you're having trouble retaining attention in RP's, there are fixable ways to this. Or at least other avenues you can try
1 like
1 yr ago
Cuz this is the internet, and if you wan't to keep complaining about people being rude on the internet then you're not gonna have a good time. Period.
1 like
1 yr ago
Well, if you want advice to your question, my offer is open
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@KuroYeah but then I find myself not making the cut xD
The fucking find the path one is the one that fucks me over the most. I can either go first and never find the path or stay in the pack and get shoved off the platform by ten different dickheads

Solveig Forgeheart




There was an immediate feeling of uncomfortableness as Solveig began to rodeo the beast. However as gross pus began to pour out from the cut that the Dwarf made, he was forced to dismount. "Fuck me... What is wrong with these bastards..." Solveig grumbled to himself as managed to regain his footing for a moment. The sick feeling began to take over for a few moments as he began to retch. With a deep inhale, Solveig tried to recompose himself to shake off this feeling of illness. Solveig's stance changed as the Rot Troll still seemed to be solely focused on Gentle. Beginning to bounce on his toes more, the Pugilist decided to switch to Outfighting. Solveig gripped his knuckle dusters tighter as he began to flick out jabs into the calves and knees of the Troll, trying to keep his distance.

Solveig Forgeheart




Solveig grinned as Brynan made her comments. As the Trolls began to charge, the Pugilist noticed that these particular Trolls have already taken quite a bit of damage. Had they just came away from another raid and was hoping to get two for one or were they running away from something? In the end it wouldn't matter... The Trolls were barrelling forth towards the party so this would become their fate. Solveig bounced on his knees as he assumed a fighting stance, preparing for the initial crash. "C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!" Solveig murmured as he was pumping himself up.

Fortunately, it seemed the Trolls would pick other targets. Naldir and Gentle were the first to make contact. This clash had forced Solveig to backstep away as to not be caught up in the tussle. It seemed the Minotaur managed to block away his troll. The rush of battle made his mind race, and an idea crossed the Dwarf's brain. It could work! Well Solveig didn't have anything better in his head so why not? The Dwarf ran up behind the Minotaur as he leapt onto the hairy back. "Hold 'im there!" He called out as he stepped up onto Gentle's haunches.

The Minotaur would feel a heavy boot kick off from the top of it's head as Solveig used Gentle as a springboard to latch onto the top of the Troll. The Dwarf spun 180 degrees in the air as he hopped from one beast to the other. As he descended, Solveig wrapped an arm around the thick neck of the putrid troll. The stench was overwhelming but there was no going back now. "Right ya bastard!" Solveig grunted as he tried to hang on for dear life. With his free hand, the fist clenched around the brass knuckleduster before Solveig tried to rain down blows onto the skull of the thrashing troll.

Solveig Forgeheart




Rather enjoying the new company, Solveig probably seemed the most nonchalant about marching to his doom. In fact, after they had left Koprust Solveig was obnoxiously whistling as they began to travel to this 'Mudshit'. Apart from the butting of heads between Gentle and Brynan, the rest of the group seemed to be rather introverted or at least withdrawn. Everybody had their secrets for sure, but the Dwarf would've preferred if everyone else weren't quite as reserved. Especially the Dragonborn. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. Regardless of whether the rest appreciated his loud whistling, nothing brought Dwarves together like a bit of light-hearted rhythm. Perhaps it wasn't time to bust out a mining or drinking song but perhaps the theory could work here too.

As rain began to pour, Solveig popped the collar up of his jacket more. He didn't have a hood so his hair and beard were starting to get drenched. However, Solveig kind of liked it. There wasn't any rain to speak of back at Tharum Kholdur, at least if you wasn't a Mountain Guard who watched the borders. Sometimes water would drip down but nothing like this. It was kind of relaxing. The tiny pitter patter of droplets reminded him of pickaxes striking the rocky earth of the Mountain. It was comfort.

That was when a potent stench wafted over the party. Solveig held his nose as his face scrunched up. "Gentle! Please tell me that's not what Minotaur shite smells like!" He exclaimed as he tried to wave the smell away. However, the playful jab at Gentle was overshadowed by the call from Naldir.

"Trolls! Ready yourselves!"

Solveig turned on his heels to the direction of the hollering creatures. He watched as Stur was one of the first to step forward, beginning to draw a battle line. With a grin and a hearty laugh, Solveig joined as he pulled out his prized knuckledusters from his pockets. Punching his own fists together making clanging sounds that rang out, Solveig joined the large human's side with glee. Finally it was time for a punch-up!

"RIGHT THEN YA BASTARDS! COME GET A TASTE OF DWARVEN STRENGTH!!!"

Solveig Forgeheart




Solveig smiled as others began to join the party. This was certainly becoming an interesting lot indeed! Humans, elves, a tiefling and a cow man to boot! With a grin on his face, Solveig bowed to the King and Queen before following the group out of the hall, an obnoxious whistle in his step. He noticed the horned lady's face was marred by an unfortunate disfigurement, however he could only shrug his shoulders. Five years in Torvelt, you see and hear a lot worse happening to young women.

His attention was drawn to this Nathaniel character. However, there was something about him that struck him as off. It would be uncharacteristic of Solveig to trust a man who wore a mask especially one who carried himself with that smarm. It seemed it didn't take much to put this Brynan character on the offence. Solveig's style! The Dwarf would smirk at her exchange of words both with Nathaniel and the Minotaur, Gentle. This Stur character seemed reserved for now. In all honesty, Solveig didn't quite care as to why Brynan didn't take kindly to Nathaniel.

"Ladies, ladies! There hasn't even been any ale flowin' yet and yer already slingin' insults at each other!" Solveig would point out as he got close to them. It was... an odd sight seeing a Dwarf approach two taller beings, especially the Minotaur who towered over the entire party. That didn't seem to phase the pro fighter one bit. He would untether the drinking horn from his belt as he sloshed around the contents of what was inside. Ale freshly poured from the Tavern he stumbled out of to get here. "We can fix that though!" He grinned with a hearty chortle.

It was then that Nathaniel offered his sentiment of a more detailed introduction. Aoné was the first to take up that offer. Her sarcasm had a bit of charm, but it was going to wear thin on the Dwarf if this was gonna end up being a thing. "I think a shared drink is better for opening up but what the hell!?" Solveig shrugged. He took a long swig of the ale, wiping his mouth before continuing his thoughts. He playfully flexed his arm with a chuckle. "Like I said! Solveig Forgeheart! I'm a Prizefighter by trade, and it's how I solve me problems too! Ya need someone punchin', I'm yer man."
Aw gee I wonder who Gimli is >_>

Solveig Forgeheart



Among the audience gathered within the throne room was a stout Dwarf, leaning against one of the far walls with his arms crossed. Solveig was still recovering from a partial hangover with last night's slim prize-money filling his pouch. He listened intently to King Brand's words. The task was clear. Venture into the Torvelt Fog to recover the King's son. This was by far the biggest challenge Solveig was presented with but this... This could be the exact ticket he needed to return home.

The Dwarf would watch as many of the court would exit the room. To be honest, Solveig couldn't blame them. You'd either have to be desperate, foolish or just a downright crazy bastard to take on this quest. The funny thing was- Solveig couldn't figure out which category he fell under. Solveig would wait a moment, seeing if there was anyone else who would take on the call with him. Afterall, he didn't want to be the first one to volunteer for a suicide mission. Two half-elves and a Dragonborn would precede Solveig's answer. This wasn't a bad crew by any stretch of the imagination, at least by first glance.

Solveig pushed himself off of the wall and uncrossed his arms. "Right then..." He began, mostly murmuring to himself. "I am Solveig Forgeheart of Tharum Kholdur!" The Dwarf introduced himself in an almost boastful manner, pounding his chest. "By my fists and my honour, I will help find yer son!" He answered, the Dwarf's accent was thick and typical of his race.
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