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7 yrs ago
Hot dogs are already cooked. Might as well just sear them to add flavor.
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7 yrs ago
I love it when I catch up on my posting.
2 likes
7 yrs ago
If you take college seriously, it opens doors. Harvard and Hopkins makes it easier, but you can do well anywhere.
3 likes
7 yrs ago
Prefer to brainstorm on Discord for that reason.
1 like
7 yrs ago
Windows 10 is very much like a German prison camp guard, "Ah, I see you are tryink to escape work fifteen minutes early, Herr Colonel Hogan, here ist an update zat vill stall you!"
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Bio

Most Recent Posts


Some badass forest battle artwork to help set the mood.

TL;DR Summary:


  • Medieval/Fantasy
  • I am doing a homegrown setting that allows people to invent stuff so they can more easily put together their characters and design what they need.
  • The characters are all adopted children of an old ranger that have returned home to pay respects and bury him, only to find that a tyrannical ruler had him, and many others, killed.
  • Characters are all similar in certain respects, but differences should be highlighted.
  • No anthropomorphic animal type characters -- sorry, I can't deal with furries or lizardmen and the such.
  • Plot will turn into an overall guerrilla war against said ruler as the adoptive children decide to take up the path of vengeance in a very Four Brothers/Magnificent Seven sort of way. I've also based this on more recent movies featuring King John as the villain; the Russell Crowe version of Robin Hood and "Ironclad." A bit of "Kingdom of Heaven" in there.
  • Time is limited, so I'm not sure I want to do long posts here. Shall we try for five paragraphs or so of writing per post? Keep it moving with lots of back and forth?
  • I will use a very abbreviated character sheet system -- I prefer a stub with the basics, rather than something that takes a long time to write.
  • Discord Chat for brainstorming in realtime. - I honestly prefer to brainstorm in groups, so feel free to drop in. I think we can also help each other out on interaction and posting this way.

In Character Info:


Brand of the Nightwood was a local fixture in Bosfyrd, on the border of Vendland, though a remote one -- a woodsman known to occasionally appear with a story or an act of charity, a guide for those that were lost or otherwise in trouble in the forest and someone that kept bandits on their toes. He didn't spend much time in the towns surrounding the Nightwood itself, but he was known because of his skills and his essentially kind nature. He wasn't the most polished gem, but he was a fine person to know when there was trouble afoot. The old ranger had a reputation for his skill and an adventurous youth. He retired to the Nightwood and became a figure of remote charity -- he seemed to have a way with the stray children that seemed to show up in the area, incorrigibles and the such that he took in. He was the place's sentinel, keeping a watch for monsters and other things in the forests, keeping bandits on their toes. He stayed out of local politics, but he always lent a helping hand.

There was a revolt against King Harold, and it was a powerful one that won a couple battles, humiliating the King in the field, forcing him to make concessions to his barons and other nobles.

Harold did not take the defeat well; he spent money he didn't really have to build an army to put his kingdom firmly in his authority, ignoring all the promises he made prior. One of the leaders, William of Barkstead, was a firm friend of Brand's and the old ranger took the man's two children under his wing to protect them from the bloody chevauchee of King Harold against his own nobility. This campaign of Harold, leading an army that included monstrous troops and dark magic users, was successful but left bodies and burned towns strewn about its wake. But, in the end, Harold had what he wanted; Baron William on a cross alongside the other leaders of the Barons' Revolt. That vengeance was good, but not enough -- the children, heirs, had to die so he could provide land and titles to his cronies. He was known as Bloody Harold, his brutality and tyranny infamous. But it was what he wanted, the people cowed.

Except, not all were cowed. Brand of the Nightwood stayed out of the war, fearing the consequences that came to pass. King Harold's men came for Brand of Nightwood; they found a formidable old man, a warrior in the winter of his years. He did not mince his words when faced with the tyrant's warriors, though he did offer to have the children renounce their inheritance and raise them as his own, with no quarrel. However, there was no intention to give the children up for torture, rape or whatever else the king's depraved killers could imagine. William entrusted them to him to keep safe, and Brand was a man of his word.

The olive branch was not enough for Harold's minions. It was a fight, but Brand lost against overwhelming odds, making a stand. He was in the winter of his life, but instead of living out those days in well-earned peace, he was brutally executed, though not without taking his toll from the enemy. His final stand was the stuff of saga, except there were no bards brave enough to compose a ballad for it. If anything, Brand's death snuffed out the lingering resistance. People resigned themselves to a fate under the heel of Bloody Harold.

However, the Earl's children weren't the first orphans old Brand ever took in. They were merely the latest of a number of children that called him 'Father,' an array of siblings, each different from each other but siblings nonetheless, spread out over the world who made the journey to pay respects to their adoptive father...and to set right his murder.

Out of Character Info:


The characters here are family; they're all rangers that Brand of the Nightwood adopted, and they are back to bury the old man. Of course, the powers that be have already pissed them off considerably, but to add insult to injury, they will of course attempt to clarify that need for vengeance by trying to defile the body or disrupt the burial. Or perhaps, the characters need to steal the body back in the night from where it is displayed as a warning to others, thus creating a situation where they need to fight anyway. In any case, the opening scene will be a local priest risking all to give Brand a proper burial. The King's minions will come to disrupt it. Unknown to them, Brand's sons and daughters will be there, each a dangerous individual on their own, experienced rangers all.

The campaign will center around this band's involvement in the civil war, but they are also family. Adopted family of varying races (perhaps) and creeds, different from each other in many ways, but with a huge common ground -- the same man raised them, probably at the same time, though we should spread the ages out -- some of the characters are older and some are younger, over the span of perhaps twenty years or more.

While the characters are all rangers, that doesn't mean they're the same. We're tossing the D&D books here; so I am down the rangers that have a variety of different talents and abilities, though I'd like to see them develop in the course of the RP, rather than have fully grown badasses spring out of nowhere. The characters start as people coming together in grief. They are forged in the fire that comes afterward. That is to say, start them out kind of basic and narrate how they grow into the role.

For running the RP, I intend to share the GM responsibility a bit -- this is a collaborative process and while I have specific ideas on plot points, I want others to feel free to propose scenarios and quest-items and so forth, as well as to play the role of the antagonists (there will be many and varied) and to add to developing the setting our characters will be playing in. We should, above all, feel invested in this RP together and share a collective sense of ownership. On the other hand, I'll retain the ability to settle disputes as the thread owner, but I'm hoping we don't come to that.

In any case, I want to do a rockin' RP out of this.
Due to the number of responses, I will have an OOC up in a couple hours. Mazeltov.

Some badass forest battle artwork to help set the mood.

TL;DR Summary:


  • Medieval/Fantasy
  • I am doing a homegrown setting that allows people to invent stuff so they can more easily put together their characters and design what they need.
  • The characters are all adopted children of an old ranger that have returned home to pay respects and bury him, only to find that a tyrannical ruler had him, and many others, killed.
  • Characters are all similar in certain respects, but differences should be highlighted.
  • No anthropomorphic animal type characters -- sorry, I can't deal with furries or lizardmen and the such.
  • Plot will turn into an overall guerrilla war against said ruler as the adoptive children decide to take up the path of vengeance in a very Four Brothers/Magnificent Seven sort of way. I've also based this on more recent movies featuring King John as the villain; the Russell Crowe version of Robin Hood and "Ironclad." A bit of "Kingdom of Heaven" in there.
  • To keep it moving, capping off at something like five players for this, but if someone comes in after the limit and blows me away, I'll revise that. I suck at saying no sometimes.
  • Time is limited, so I'm not sure I want to do long posts here. Shall we try for five paragraphs or so of writing per post? Keep it moving with lots of back and forth?
  • I will use a very abbreviated character sheet system -- I prefer a stub with the basics, rather than something that takes a long time to write.
  • Discord Chat for brainstorming in realtime. - I honestly prefer to brainstorm in groups, so feel free to drop in. I think we can also help each other out on interaction and posting this way.

In Character Info:


Brand of the Nightwood was a local fixture in Bosfyrd, on the border of Vendland, though a remote one -- a woodsman known to occasionally appear with a story or an act of charity, a guide for those that were lost or otherwise in trouble in the forest and someone that kept bandits on their toes. He didn't spend much time in the towns surrounding the Nightwood itself, but he was known because of his skills and his essentially kind nature. He wasn't the most polished gem, but he was a fine person to know when there was trouble afoot. The old ranger had a reputation for his skill and an adventurous youth. He retired to the Nightwood and became a figure of remote charity -- he seemed to have a way with the stray children that seemed to show up in the area, incorrigibles and the such that he took in. He was the place's sentinel, keeping a watch for monsters and other things in the forests, keeping bandits on their toes. He stayed out of local politics, but he always lent a helping hand.

There was a revolt against King Harold, and it was a powerful one that won a couple battles, humiliating the King in the field, forcing him to make concessions to his barons and other nobles.

Harold did not take the defeat well; he spent money he didn't really have to build an army to put his kingdom firmly in his authority, ignoring all the promises he made prior. One of the leaders, William of Barkstead, was a firm friend of Brand's and the old ranger took the man's two children under his wing to protect them from the bloody chevauchee of King Harold against his own nobility. This campaign of Harold, leading an army that included monstrous troops and dark magic users, was successful but left bodies and burned towns strewn about its wake. But, in the end, Harold had what he wanted; Baron William on a cross alongside the other leaders of the Barons' Revolt. That vengeance was good, but not enough -- the children, heirs, had to die so he could provide land and titles to his cronies. He was known as Bloody Harold, his brutality and tyranny infamous. But it was what he wanted, the people cowed.

Except, not all were cowed. Brand of the Nightwood stayed out of the war, fearing the consequences that came to pass. King Harold's men came for Brand of Nightwood; they found a formidable old man, a warrior in the winter of his years. He did not mince his words when faced with the tyrant's warriors, though he did offer to have the children renounce their inheritance and raise them as his own, with no quarrel. However, there was no intention to give the children up for torture, rape or whatever else the king's depraved killers could imagine. William entrusted them to him to keep safe, and Brand was a man of his word.

The olive branch was not enough for Harold's minions. It was a fight, but Brand lost against overwhelming odds, making a stand. He was in the winter of his life, but instead of living out those days in well-earned peace, he was brutally executed, though not without taking his toll from the enemy. His final stand was the stuff of saga, except there were no bards brave enough to compose a ballad for it. If anything, Brand's death snuffed out the lingering resistance. People resigned themselves to a fate under the heel of Bloody Harold.

However, the Earl's children weren't the first orphans old Brand ever took in. They were merely the latest of a number of children that called him 'Father,' an array of siblings, each different from each other but siblings nonetheless, spread out over the world who made the journey to pay respects to their adoptive father...and to set right his murder.

Out of Character Info:


The characters here are family; they're all rangers that Brand of the Nightwood adopted, and they are back to bury the old man. Of course, the powers that be have already pissed them off considerably, but to add insult to injury, they will of course attempt to clarify that need for vengeance by trying to defile the body or disrupt the burial. Or perhaps, the characters need to steal the body back in the night from where it is displayed as a warning to others, thus creating a situation where they need to fight anyway. In any case, the opening scene will be a local priest risking all to give Brand a proper burial. The King's minions will come to disrupt it. Unknown to them, Brand's sons and daughters will be there, each a dangerous individual on their own, experienced rangers all.

The campaign will center around this band's involvement in the civil war, but they are also family. Adopted family of varying races (perhaps) and creeds, different from each other in many ways, but with a huge common ground -- the same man raised them, probably at the same time, though we should spread the ages out -- some of the characters are older and some are younger, over the span of perhaps twenty years or more.

While the characters are all rangers, that doesn't mean they're the same. We're tossing the D&D books here; so I am down the rangers that have a variety of different talents and abilities, though I'd like to see them develop in the course of the RP, rather than have fully grown badasses spring out of nowhere. The characters start as people coming together in grief. They are forged in the fire that comes afterward. That is to say, start them out kind of basic and narrate how they grow into the role.

For running the RP, I intend to share the GM responsibility a bit -- this is a collaborative process and while I have specific ideas on plot points, I want others to feel free to propose scenarios and quest-items and so forth, as well as to play the role of the antagonists (there will be many and varied) and to add to developing the setting our characters will be playing in. We should, above all, feel invested in this RP together and share a collective sense of ownership. On the other hand, I'll retain the ability to settle disputes as the thread owner, but I'm hoping we don't come to that.

In any case, I want to do a rockin' RP out of this.
Cover



Midway through the movement to the rallypoint, they heard the scream of rocket artillery and the 'crump' sound as the warheads split up into cluster munitions and spread out in the air, fist-sized pellets of death deployed in disintegrating strings of fire and shrapnel. The explosions started somewhere ahead of their old outpost line and walked back, trying to catch Uslamers as they moved, to disrupt their orderly fallback.

These hit the tree branches, the rocks, the soil...and beings. They shattered the snowscape of the Grolsk reserve with their thunderous arrival as the place erupted. Those that found purchase on the ground, something to hide under or behind, had the best assurance, but not a perfect guarantee, against the bomblets. Of course, a direct hit, the worst of luck, negated it.

Besk served as a sapper against the Imperial garrison when Prime Minister San was executed, he planted charges that helped the Uslam Liberators blow their way into the compound, but he'd never seen explosions like this. He'd never been, even in his career as a miner and laying down demo to help blow new excavation new sites open, subjected to this sort of thing.

He was on his belly, as the world shook and geysers of earth, dirt and rock flew through the air.

Then it was over, but for the screaming in the forest and the frantic calls of 'MEDDDDDDDIC!' that echoed through the cold air.

Someone yelled for them to get moving, "Get to the rally! Move it, move it! Off your kriffing cans before they start another barrage!"

He knew that others were with them, but he wasn't sure who was down and who was up. He vaguely remembered helping a medic move someone because they yelled for it, and because adrenaline gave him the heart-pounding incentive to do what he needed. He was carrying a missile launcher and a blaster carbine, along with other equipment, but he did what he was told, because there was no time to think.

They had a stretcher case on a repulsor-sled and loped over the snow themselves, risking fire from their movement to get to the rally. They didn't think beyond the rally to Line Charlie or, after that, falling back to the vehicles, but they knew they had a better chance there in prepared positions with entrenched weaponry than they did against this barrage in the open.

Very interested in this RP if there is room.


There's room!
First post is up; basically, We've got an infantry contact and they're pulling in the outposts.

Edit: Also, I just want to make clear that I needed a larger post for an intro. Feel free to cut it down to two to three paragraphs on responses or write more as you see fit. But like the Lore and Character stubs, I would rather have a good tempo for posting than people working on novels for a week.

:)
First Shot



The Grolsk reserve was a forested area, as much of the planet was, far enough above the equator of the planet to be cool in the summertime and frozen over in the winter. The hardy forms of plant life that survived up here were coniferous trees that grew large and threw up a wide canopy; the snow would accumulate on the branches and then slide down as the branches bent, rather than broke. They were hard to cut down, traditionally, because they were so damned wide at the trunk. The branches grew toward the top, above even the worst accumulation of snow that happened in the winters.

The ground was grooved from the erosion of countless thaws, creekbeds of snow surrounded by rock and mineral formations, exposed to the air. Hardy vegetation clung to the hills created from this erosion, also above the typical snows, fast growing weeds that threw down their seeds during the brief thaws.

And the 7th Uslam Liberators used mining tunnels beneath the surface to deploy. They used specialized equipment to tunnel through the snow and set charges close to the surface, frozen beneath a thin surface of ice, on the likely approaches. They used repulsor sleds to move equipment and repulsor suspendors for moving over the snow lightly, giving the Uslamers a loping gait as they got over the snow. It was a common technology for the locals that kept them from sinking down into the snow if they had to move over the top.

For guerrillas, that meant few tracks for scout-troopers to spot as they made their passes.

Silence reigned over the area, but they saw the landing craft activity and knew that the Empire had finally come. Sensors in system detected a large force of starships bearing in. They all knew the Empire would come back for its pound of flesh, and made preparations accordingly.

Jenk could hear only the wind and the rustle as snow rolled off the branches of the trees and hit the ground with a loud hissing sound that Uslamers all knew in these parts; you curled into a ball if they were coming down, and dug yourself out later. They all had the means to do so. The wind chapped at their exposed cheeks, when they weren't wearing something to cover against that raw exposure. Like many of those that could, he'd grown a dark, bristly beard to help cope with that.

And they'd done just that when they saw an accumulation above them in a likely spot. They put shelter structures in place so that the snow would come down on them, and give them camouflage. Then they dug out portholes so they could see. Then they waited. The 7th took a pasting in the fight for Lorya, storming the secondary Imperial garrison there after the sappers put det charges in where they though they could create an entrance. Uslamers were miners, they were good at that sort of work. Still, the Empire put up a stiff fight and the 7th was under strength now. But they were blooded. So they were put out as the screening element outside Lorya, to try and keep the Imperials pinned down to buy the city time. If possible, they were expected to fall back. Worse came to worst, disperse and carry on the fight.

They used sandbags for cover behind the snow and turned the little snow-houses into snow-fortresses. But no one was throwing snowballs here.

They had a Merr-Sonn Mk.II medium repeating blaster and a Golan Arms portable rocket launcher, his squad did anyway, in expectation of a need to take out vehicles and anything that strayed into their killing zone. He was a combat engineer attached to a heavy weapons unit, and his job had been to find the most ingenious ways to make the best use of sensors, mines and other equipment of that nature, even as they supervised emplacements for larger weaponry. Mostly, as was typical for the Liberators, it was experienced mining foremen, like Jenk, telling others their assignments and providing their specs. With a planetary population used to doing mining work, preparing fighting positions here, and fortifications further back, was relatively easy.

The infantry heard the whining of a speeder bike and tensed up, but it was too far away and going in a different direction. The sounds of blaster fire, bursts of it, echoed through the cold air, and then an explosion. Then more silence.

"Movement on sensor grid 33-alpha," Jenk noted from the wrist-mounted tablet he was using to keep track of such things, "humanoid sized."

Minutes passed like tense hours, beings bundled up in the heated body gloves under the other equipment, to ward off the elements clutching their weapons and breathing, along with some muttered talk.

"Shut it," snapped Koller, the infantry squad's sergeant, even as she took a look down the electronic sights of her A280 rifle, trying to spot movement. Trying to hear movement.

"Contact, 318, counting squad strength, stormtroopers of some kind. 140 meters, wedge formation."

Others were tempted to shift over and crowd the firing ports, but the Koller waved them back down into position, hissing, "concealment!"

"When they come to 100, engage by zones," the Sergeant stated quietly and firmly in her alto voice to the rest of her people, as he started to nurse the power settings on the Mk. II. Jenk kept his mouth shut; he had a rocket launcher to engage anything larger, vehicles or anything that required the extra firepower, but he didn't shift up yet. He had an eye on the sensors, but they were only so good and not shielded, so the Imperials were likely to start taking them out once they were noticed.

"Open fire!"

And then the world exploded into light, and the smell of ozone as blasters fired in rapid, aimed fire, trying to catch the Stormtroopers flatfooted. But soon enough, the return fire came in, and people started taking hits even behind hard cover, because even sandbags had their limits. People were keeping up the fire, but also taking hits and others were trying to screw themselves into the ground, plowing into the snow just to get deeper into the ground. Natural instinct when death was flying in over-head.

Even while the firing went on, Koller called in her contact, making sure that platoon and company were informed of the situation, even as they poured on the fire. They had casualties, and a medic seemed to crawl through whatever he crawled through to patch up two guys, ignoring the already dead guy as a matter of course. He murmured reassurances to the men while trying to keep them from screaming loudly.

Then the silence reigned again, except for the moans of the wounded and the panting breath of the guys that just had a minute and a half of shooting behind them, already wrung out from the adrenaline.

And that's when Koller said, "We just got orders from the LT, we're shifting back to the rally now," even as she started to break down the Mk. II, wrapping the black blaster in a white sling/tarp so she could carry it strapped across her chest without it looking totally out of place against the planet's natural palette. She was slender, but had the shoulders of a miner, and plenty of muscle to lift the thing.

"Let's get out before the stormtroopers call it in and the kriffing Empire hits this position with artillery."
I screwed up. Please hide the evidence. roleplayerguild.com/posts/4614257
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