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2 yrs ago
Current 3.5e is the best dnd, only one I play, but I prefer pathfinder 1e cause it's 3.5e with extra stuff.
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4 yrs ago
Trying to get a new RP started so my friend can try out text rp if anyone is interested.

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Tiny Nord

Morocco 13:56:55


Staring at the mask of the other man, who he was a bit confused about the Irish. "Catholic or Protestant?"

"Catholic." the heavy replied in almost a moment of confusion between the two.

"Ah, that's good, I hate fighting unionists, I swear to the lord they are some of the most pretentious people, it's like dealing with lion that thinks it's a house cat."

"Aye." the man said as the minigun landed on Tiny's shoulder. "But ya gotta do it, else we all know what happens."

"True, but... I see you're working with the black and tans then." Oliver replied as he nodded a bit, "If it makes the insult better, I did almost go to Notre Dame."

With that the opposing heavy did once again try to bash Tiny's head, again landing on the shoulder, and with that the conversation seemed to be a flair of insults going both ways, every once in a while there was a moment of clarity within the words being cast back and forth. Most of the slurs and curses, but it seemed as if the two were having 'fun.' By fun, it was an absolute brawl which again went to mechanical fists hammering away at each other. The Minigun was damaged, the axe was stuck, and fists seemed to be the focus.

A swing from below landing in Tiny's stomach plate, replied with the double hands of tiny hitting back of the Irish Heavies head. It was entirely a back and forth, plating being smashed as small arms picked up upon the two once again making plinking noises as they brawled.

Another lull in the fight came when Tiny's shoulder plate had the other heavy hand shoved between two of the plates, "If ya make it out of this, I swear to god I'll carry around a pint of Guinness case I have to deal with you again." Tiny said before pulling his arm shattering some of the protection on the Irishmans gauntlets, but more importantly, locking him into place.

Tiny turned and pushed his back against the Irishman's armor, his other hand moving to keep the other arm from moving too much. With that, he pulled the armor up, the gears and motors in his legs strained for several second before the Irishman went forward, both arms turning in ways they likely shouldn't have turned as the man landed on his front. Tiny forced down a bit to confirm that the arms were likely broken, before he slowly stood, feeling plinks as his armor loosened some as his shoulders rolled, letting go of the other man.

"Can two people fighting not have more than... however long it was to fight without any distractions?" he asked slowly picking up his shield as if his armor was trying to reset with him in it, and also if the man was sore from literally brawling with another tank of a man. "If... Oh yea, Muslim majority country, not a lot of bars around here..."

The man was mostly speaking to himself, but also kinda to the spot on his shield where ducktape remained from the failed experiment with the microphone. With that, the axe was hastily retrieved from wiring and armor, pried out, and the man relaxed as best as he could by pinging underneath the shield and against the compound wall. It was almost a breather if he wasn't getting shot at by likely increasingly large amounts of bullets. It was also a moment to do damage control, figuring out what the brawl had broken.

Not much was too damaged, mostly dents, if anything. The only thing that was a problem was something in his right leg. It always had to be the right leg; he felt as if its mechanics weren't holding up again and that, for the most part, the gear was stuck again. He shifted his leg around and placed the shield on that side of his body.

He pulled his rifle up in his left hand and approached the gate, "I am at half-ish speed until I can fight the right knee again. Enemy heavy is down."

Tiny pulled again at his leg until it and the shield were facing out into the city, and his backside was to the compound; he just listened to gunfire and the pinging; the radio came over his right ear going through the garden, wasn't that the first idea. Well, it was until the resident heavy got in his way. He began to fire sporadically at anything getting close. Surprised still that he was already out of breath, maybe he has been out of the game too long. Naaaaaaa, just the Irish dude, totally just the Irish dude, and also carrying weight with the right leg slightly out.

Sapiliezen Hill


"There is still a garrison there?" he questioned looking at the two before shaking his head, waving a hand away from the letter as he looked at them, looking over at the Duke as he was getting *Sorry, um... Yes, how... we really still have a garrison there?"

Confusion stuck on the man's face as he looked like someone on the first day of their job or like the intern who finally has a project after a long time unboxing things in a backroom. He looked as if the others had continued to rant, almost as if the emperor was not there and they were arguing among themselves. But for the Duke, who had turned into a tomato, he had sat there grumbling. The Emperor, however, was in a setting of disbelief, also in that of shock, and with a bit of pale face from the blood. It was a dark thought in his mind, but that was not the concern at the moment, this odd woman in front of him was

"Then I suspect good news, since most of the nobility there died in the commons hall, their lack of leadership has turned into... Do they have leadership? Is it still the six-month-old and his mother that lives there?" His eyes looked between them both, looking down at them as he pressed his lips together. "So um..."

The line of armor and bodies between the argument and them was a helpful tool; most weapons on those in the pile of angry men were armed, but not to the point of what was left of the Royal Guard. He was thankful for that, and that the others had shut up the Duke in the rabble, well noble grouping. The elven woman in front of him and her squire, "Might I ask who you both are? It is rare, especially since the incident, to see any elves outside of their city, or the woods... nevermind on that, it is just rare seeing your kind, but, I hate to be rude, most of the staff is still trying to find replacements to build the staff while repairs continue."

@AtalantaI feel that, I am fixing to drive down to GA for some stuff, and then have to be back where I live the next day without flying, and then stuff with a lot of the work I've done for my thesis being published to days ago so I gotta rethink most of that as well. But, let life settle, and if you're down for something, I bet we will still be about.
Torsten


Dorian, and then an Orc, well, that was an odd sight; not many of those had had to deal with, but work with, that was a rare story. He pressed his lips together, his facial hair almost acting like two massive caterpillars forming a massive hairball on his face. He looked at the others in the room and let them listen to Dorian's words.

"It is good to know they are alive... I am sure many of us are relieved that that statement... but, what does it mean for us, it sounds as if there is something for us to do, that we are the next formation of this Order, the next line, the next thread in the web of it. If I am correct, then what is it that we are to do?"

The man was straight to the point, he mainly looked at the Orc during this entire time, not once resting his eyes upon anything else. Finally, he looked at Dorian and then the others. While his face at that moment after taking the focus off the orc was something that was much different than it was looking at the orc, it was almost relief or at least some form of joy.

His blue hues went over each one in the group, to the other woodsman, and lastly before going back at Sir Dorian. he wanted to be straight to the point and wanted Dorian to as well. He hoped that he wouldn't talk further in mystical diffleres like hismentor had about orders and the larger events of the world So far, it proved true that Dorian was also one who was straight to the point." He was thankful for that.
Also just made a discord incase if anyone is interested, posted in the description and in here. discord.gg/mHXtc7RV
Sapiliezen Hill


Duke Manith of Cyreze eventually brought the squabbles into a fight with fists, he was lucky that few were in the room, and that most did not care to intervene, the few things that did happen is that whatever was left of the guard, barring the largest amalgamation of steel plate armor and weapons moved either closer to the Emperor himself, or the door to the larger courtyard. It was an interesting thing, it was a fight between those who had no power left but for the clothes on their backs, and whatever they could swindle away from their homes before they fled. Well whatever they managed to keep in their possessions. They were granted pity due to their ranks and titles, but as it could be shown, they were just cornered animals fighting for scraps.

The servant returned with a tray of tea and several glasses, as well as a standing table as he placed it down for them to enjoy over time. The tray was likely some form of cheap alloy coated with a faux rose-gold, but it held authentic glass cups, and a clay pot of a dark substance.

"It is a tea dilute, it is some of the few I have been able to find in the recent days." the servant said quietly, pouring several glasses including one for himself, "I am Mr.Turyur, the other public servant is Mr.Tilitin. If you are staying here, we will likely be taking care of your basic needs, and general distraction from the faults of the others who come here."

He stared at the brawl as it had become devolve until the Duke of Cyreze, well once Duke of Cyreze stuck one of the men with a knife that was created from a pocket. With that the man slowly placed down his own cup, and stood in front of the two, not in a defensive posture, but just standing there.

The guards did nothing but continue to move in front of the paling Emperor, but not much action was resolved.

"It seems that the count of Garmond has been stabbed, surprised it didn't happen sooner." Mr.Turyur said quietly, looking over at the two more or less to gauge their actions. "Don't worry... this is sadly common place over the past few years."




The Emperor stared at what had become a brawl, he was fixing to try and stop the squabbling once and for all, but it turned into someone getting stabbed. He saw blood, and his face went white. He hadted the sight of blood near him, even if it was blood sausage, he hated the smell of it, no matter what kind of blood it was, he could always tell what was blood and what wasn't. His servant hadn't returned, and the guards in the room just stood in front of him. He opened his mouth, but couldn't speak, and with the squabble over, most of the others backing down after the Count, who was now lying on the ground groaning got stabbed.

"His Magesty." Started the Duke, "I was hoping to come and ask for our permission to found a New Dutchy with my village as it's head. It will look over the City of Darkness, and many of the surrounding lands including the enclave of elves."

The Duke of Cyrene, turned to look at those who he was once fighting with, and then he saw an elf in the back, and almost scowled, before looking back forward. "The benefits of our military would be wonders if we could once again mobilize what is left of our southern armies, and the experience of the elves would work wonders for our people. We would have thousands of trained warriors and mages ready to march and rec-."

This was stopped by another in the crowd, "So you can throw more lives into a slaughter? So you can horde an army for yourself, and then waste your soldiers on a campaign to gratify your riches, and when you run away again, you can leave an army to die?"

The mess had turned into a squabble once again, but this time with more hatred filled into it.

The Emperor however saw what the Duke scowled at, and it seemed that there were those unfamiliar to him in the court, he was used to having blatant murder in his halls, but he saw these individuals and likely knew they saw him as just a stone in the river. He believed his should prove them wrong, "While you all figure your lives and arguments out... I am going to stretch." he said, with likely few hearing his voice over the yelling.

He stood, and hastily drew himself down the few steps from his throne to the even floor, skirting past the occupied individuals in the room, he as almost invisible to most, which he found to be a blessing and a curse. While it allowed him to move around easily, it also meant that he saw his rule as nothing besides a title. His father had gathered croweds, he just has some once Duke murder someone who also has no power anymore.

He approached those in the back, and looked Tillitin, "make sure he is at least alive, and make sure he lives... I don't want another person to die in my halls this week."

With those words, and the servant heading for harms way, his guard and the Emperor looked at the outsides, "I am... sorry, you had to see that, in the final days of the congressional government most of those men were to be placed under arrest for corruption, or treason for their own people. Sadly those documents are gone, and those of sanity are often those on the floor. But, how may I assist you both? I know you are not from these lands, you wear nothing like the elves of my lands, and while I would wish to hide the instability of this nation, I fear that is too late should you be envoys."
Sapiliezen Hill - Northwestern Threll - Poor District


Sometime in the morning


Black clouds bellowed off in the southwest side of the city, and the Emperor stared through red and yellow stained glass at the early factory forges, hammering away at metals to make anything from door hinges to wheel axles. He just stared at the deepening clouds of soot that flowed freely from cement and stone towers that held themselves high upon the southern half of the river. It was disgusting to look at, but sadly, in the ancient days, the south was a beautiful view that some ancient ancestors loved to stare at. He hated it, the north was now beauty, but the far side of the valley was not his anymore, yet it was beautiful nonetheless.

Emperor Theltavious VII slipped into a purple robe as he looked down at the fallen roof of what used to be a council room, the largest part of the building. It was now full of workers removing anything reusable, and every once in a while a rotten corpse. It was a slow and horrid process and he hated the ugliness of it. He already had a plan to make it beautiful once again. Glass roofing with dark stone and timber supports with ancient stones covered beautiful flora, not the previous flowery vines that he found out were poisonous, but something simple, maybe grape vines. Regardless, he had something to do today didn't he? Well someone would tell him eventually.

The robe fit him well, and he sighed, remembering most of his staff was killed in some unfortunate accident, so that meant he had to go down to the kitchen and retrieve something for himself, specially since he had awaken early, or at least by himself. He knew there were maybe three servants left, and he remembered a guests were meant to come as well as others meant to council him. He had dodged a coup, only to be left with no one who knew how to do anything. Oh, there was meant to be an arms trader; no, there were other things that had to be dealt with first his breakfast, second, his artist's supplies, and third, maybe second breakfast.

Opening his own door, he looked at where the head of the servants was supposed to be, there was not one. Argamei assumed that he would have to appoint a new one, or hopefully be given another. He looked down the hallway both ways, it was empty but for a large armored man walking down it. He knew who it was, and that man scared him senseless.

He slunk down the hallway and down another and another. He saw many things, well the lack of them, primarily people, artwork, armors, and the eventual broken or splintered door. It was almost two years since that happened, yet few things had been fixed. He looked inside one of the broken doors and saw a once-occupied room, likely some old nobles' room; stacks of leather chests and wood crates littered the floor. He didn't see any heraldry or semblance, but it was something besides almost desolate walls in what was meant to be a palace. It turned out more like a crumbling ruin of a fortress than anything.

HEading down a semi-spiral of stairs to the next floor down, he came upon a large hall, yet again empty there were at least a few modest banners that hung from different points in the room, but a single one hung over the two cases of stairs at the head of the room where he was. At the foot was a large door, one of the few things that had been refurbished, but that is because the people had to look upon the far side of it. Few people made it past anymore, mostly just himself and the servants.

He opened the door, and peered inside to the next hall, there were a few people there, a servant, and an Elvan woman, she was not from these lands, and he expected her to be from some faraway land to assist or advise those beneath him how to do their jobs. It was a bit of a fault in his own mind, letting another people do what he should find someone to do, but the lacking of people in the room proved he needed the assistance, after all most of the ones who had any idea of what they were doing were dead, and thankfully not at his hands.

It was fate, and although he could use something to eat to satiate his morning routine, it would have to go. The door that was opened creaked loudly, it was made that way, and whomever had constructed it should be hanged the Emperor thought. He was in a glorified bedrobe of silk, with only a modest bolstering of fur and down. The servant moved to his side, and bowed before approaching.

"I will fetch you a cloak your Magesty." the younger man said before scurrying off, and a few others did similar gestures of respect to the Emperor, there should be someone announcing him, but the door did that well, he would have to make up for that later. But at that time, he had a few guests that likely wanted to speak with him, or at least someone to resonate their problems, or suggestions with.

There was no right hand, no advisor; he needed another one of those in due order, but at this moment, the other one he had was found to be incompetent, even more than himself; at least he tries to make things beautiful and bearable for his people, or so he thinks.

"I am Emperor Theltavious the VII, if you have requests for me, feel free to line yourselves up, and present your needs and findings in an ordered manner. Please do not cut in each others way, and be civil about it." There is no way this could go wrong; there were maybe twelve people in total in the room, three guards, four if you count the hulk in the corner, two servants, and one fleeing to retrieve something. The rest were just nobles, for the most part; the one oddity was the elf that he saw. It wasn't uncommon, but at the moment, it was kinda uncommon, especially in his court. He did get some from the city far in the south but that was besides the point.

While in thought, he saw that several had started a squabble, well most of them started a squabble for the first spot. It would be best to wait this out he thought




"Madam, I suggest you wait... Seeing as you're here, enjoy yourself." a man in a long gray and brown robe said quietly; it was the uniform of those who were in servitude, "I've not had to deal with the upfront business until now. But, most come from the north and have lived here since... Two were once Dukes, and one was a count. The rest are barons or land-lords of some kind, oh... the one fighting the Dukes was once a general."

The man smiled at Myrrhis, "Is there anything I can get you while you wait?" his head bowed some as he awaited a response.
@Atalanta Still interested? I planned on starting small here in the next day or so, if you want to make a character.
Tiny Nord

Morocco 13:55:22


"At least there is no water this time... Let me be a good samaritan, and give them the good old quackbang microphone treatmen." he grumbled, staring at a watch that was gracefully duct-taped to the backside of his shield. He saw it was a time about thirty seconds ago, but all of these locals, well it was not going to be pretty regardless, it is time to make use of his special equipment.

Outstood a massive shield that was firmly planted into the ground in front of him, on the side was another gracefully ducttapped object, a megaphone. He tapped upon the backside of it a few times, making sure it was working with a few loud pops to get people's attention. For extra reinforcement, he fired his gun a few times in the air.

"For those who wish to leave, you have five seconds to do so, if you don't feel free to shoot at me and see how well it goes!"

Within a moment of the word 'goes' the microphone was taken off in a hail of bullets, why did he figure anything else would happen, he just bought that thing, it was like thirty bucks. But he had done his good deed for the day, and now it seemed like the heavies were up for a bit of fun.

He placed his rifle on it's slot, and raised his shield up, he stared at the door that people didn't want to see anymore.

"Alright... I think they are focused on me, hopefully they will just run for the most part... I don't know, but anything past the door dies. My vision isn't the greatest behind this shield and I don't like taking chances."

He rolled his shoulder a bit as he pulled it up to his chest, and he listened to the gears in his suit grind and ache as he started to run, he hated how heavy this thing was when he did this, but it looked like there was some form of incline and he didn't want to get stuck on stairs.

He saw the other heavy finally, it was clear in front of him, and he smiled as he got in the path of his charge, well this is going to be fun isn't it? He felt a bullet on his back as his shield became a hail of sparks from the minigun, well, at least he was taking it's fire. But for now, he thinks that the fun thing will be the one in front of him.

He knew he should have brought his heavy gun, he figured it would be closer quarters though and didn't bring it, so he figured the old way would be the way. The minigun wouldn't do much against him; he didn't know about the others, but this guy. Well, he would be fun, and when it came to it, he pulled off the two-handed axe from his shield and he let it drive forward into the other heavy before he went in for melee, first an underhand swing to try and disable mobility, it hit his side, but it didn't work well in it's goal. The two became a brawl of twisting metal and poly-carbonates. Bullets, pinging off both of them as it looked like a street brawl between two drunken idiots because of the almost dilated movements of their armor. While it seemed slow, each hit between the armored hulks send shockwaves through the others.

He left the axe in it's side, and just went for a brunt way, the axe was a good choice for doors, or lighter targets, but like armor of the old days, when steel and iron covered men, the mace was the weapon to use. His fist was that mace. They battered each other; a few tried to get in the way to disable or hurt Oliver, but the fury of them both kept many away, and he was too close for heavy weapons to be used by those who wanted to try. It was a grueling task, a medieval one as they raged on.

He hoped the others were doing work; he was tunnel-visioned into this fight and hoped they were doing well with his initial moments of distraction.

@StarlanceYours is fine as it is. Honestly, magic is meant to be a bit overpowered because I'm taking it from a traditionalist stance. It could be on sight or in an area of effect, and I'd be fine with it. Especially since if you read the background to the first NPC, you'll see what you could be going against.

But approved without a doubt.
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