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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


In the Air


The man had woken up abruptly inside a cot that kept him strapped down during take-off and landing, and turbulence. It was a odd place over time moment that he had been out, the bleeding had stopped, but he was still somewhat light headed from the blood loss. He saw an IV in his arm, and saw it hanging above him. He saw his arms weren't strapped, but his leg and torso had bandages lining his currently bare chest. He shifted around a bit, and felt that something wasn't right on his torso, but he felt that it had been handled for the most part, or at least set properly, and held in place. He was thankful forstimulants, but more important, he saw the tattered remains of his shield, and of his armored suit. He stared at the cylinder imprint in the shield's face. Then he saw the fractured plates of his suit, honestly it didn't do too much damage but to the mechanics and shock absorbers, it looks more like the damage from when the suit was taken off of him.

He was thankful that they were able to get it off him, if things shut down, then he knew how bitchy that suit could be to take off, or disassemble. He stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes again, He slowly pulled the strap to his upper body, and sat up, he felt the ridged lining of a plastic body suit that covered his lower torso.

"Fuck, remind me to get one of those things... better than a fucking tank cannon." He slowly went back down after saying that before passing out once again, the small bout of adrenaline in him finally kicking it to his bodies drowsiness.




Camp Hannula : Infirmary
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When he reawoke several hours later, Oliver stared up at what seemed to be a medical ward of some sort. He looked around, seeing a few others in the room, he saw Skye, and she didn't seem to be in good shape, then again most of them didn't either in the room. He looked at his charting, two broken ribs, and a decent amount of blood loss, but that had been remedied for the most part. His armor was the next set of things. He slowly stared at the cot, he was no longer tied down, then again, he wasn't in a moving object anymore, or at least to his knowledge. There was the IV stand, which had a bag that was attached to his arm, he decided to move it to a rolling one so that he could move.

Oliver stared at the others in another part of the ward; most of them were armed, Skye looked hurt, and well, he didn't want to deal with this anymore. He already had the cast on to get his ribs fixed and was loaded up with stimulants and whatever else was thrown into him cocktail wise. He stared at that situation and slowly slid off his bed the other way. Then, slinking out of the ward in its entirety.

From there, he looked outside, deciding a gown was not enough to get fresh air, he turned and started looking for a place to get clothing, this again was foiled by a searing headache. He stumbled and moved towards the room with the armed guards, Skye, and a good portion of the people he knew.

"I thought she was doing alright; when did she get hit?" he asked, peering into the room outside the doorway, holding onto the IV rolling stand he was using as a walking implement. Then he questioned the tense armed guard if they were under attack again. Also, why were they so tense? I could use a butter knife to cut the air. I don't hear gunfire, so why are you all so jumpy-looking?" With this, he had a smile on his face, and if a man could look like a dog, he would look like the dumbest golden retriever possible in that moment.
Tiny Nord


Morocco


Tiny stared at what seemed light on the other side of his shield as he ducked under it and braced. Did it work no, he felt a small object likely the size of a can of peas hit, sadly it felt as if a fucking train hit, and he felt the force hit his shield. He felt the standing supports snap and the crater on the interior side as the impact caved in a decent part of the shield to explode as if a hesh shell had hit. His shoulder he felt give as that interior impact zone landed on his shoulder plate, and a sprawling of solid layered steel shatter against his helmet, shoulder, and left torso. The blast he felt shuttered him, the legs and balance of the entire structured frame of the shield, and heavy tumbled on one leg. His knee plate decided to come loose as it buckled back, and the shield pushed him back almost fifteen feet or so, tumbling the entire way as the shield bucked against his helmet, and landed in his chest place denting it in as it lifted up for a moment like a runner digging his heels into the ground. Instead, it was a metal shield digging into armor. He felt as if he was in a can himself now. Several tonnes of metal on him, mechanics whirring to try and offset the weight on him.

He had dealt with the shock before, and while he was a bit ruffled, he was angrier, and the Macgyver sensors someone put into his suit were mostly shot at this point, along with his communications. If someone was near, they would hear angry screaming, cursing, and the eventual insult. He was a tank; this thing hit harder than a tank; it was a railgun; while it wasn't meant for straight damage, it was meant to punch through armor, and thankfully, the shield took the brunt in fact it was still lodged in the shield, a solid chunk of metal pressed against it, but that shockwave gave him hell.

He rocked the shield off of him, and he stared at the backside of the shield; thankfully, his equipment wasn't too damaged, but the shield, but he lifted it up, sighing at the bottom, as he hefted on his shoulder favoring his right side, he looked around, and groaned gears whirring as they started to strip themselves, and his joint locks were giving as he chugged, and chugged forward towards where the fight was, mostly to retrieve his weapon and to draw fire.

"Someone finish that fucker off if he is still around here, confirm it for god sake, like break his spine or his legs at least so he can't use a suit again like I did with the damn northern Irishman. If anyone is listening... I swear to god, fucking jackass broke the rollers and the struts on my shield. I am pretty sure at least three of my ribs are broken; my left shoulder is shot, but... fuck, I am about out..."

At that moment, axe slowly going into it's mostly broken holder that could still barely hold, he dropped on his left knee as he dropped the shield locked on his left arm to just keep him covered, he saw blood on the outside of his helmet. He held his hand and his finger out under the small running of red as he slowly wrote on his chest, "If alive, no stim, only qclot, sal, left compartment." His eyes dimmed for a moment as he saw what looked to be a tunnel, and his head throbbed; he realized it was likely a concussion and another head injury, or several. At least one open wound, or internal, he didn't feel wetness on his face, it was coming from a higher point on the left side, he felt it in his beard, and hair, it was more compacted on the left side on his helmet. He could deal with that for a minute.

He stood up, and started moving as quickly as he could, he saw the trucks pull up, it was easier moving faster, the nice little bug in his knee got fixed out. The thing is time, and whatever wounds he suffered, he didn't expect a rail gun, just something like what the bigger guy had, but almost direct kinetic energy is the bane of his existence. A tank would have been easier, or just another outright brawl.

He felt tunnel-visioned as he kept moving, one target in sight, which was why there was constant pinging on the slow-moving object. Even some larger pings dinged him as he stared at the truck, and he slapped his shield down in the bed of one. Turning around and blindly firing where the pings came from, he just slumped forward, his weapon locked in his hand as his armor went to the quickest locks as his body slumped in different directions, his right arm locked at an angle, his knees were slightly bent and his torso contorted first back, and then straight as his head was locked forward close to his right shoulder, the left arm was resting a few inches above his lower abdomen as his suit looked like a contorted statue of a man in an uncomfortable pose.

Torsten


The man listened, and prayed, he had all that he said out into the world, while the couch was an enjoyable place. He did not wish to sleep there, nor did he want to form his armor to him while he slept. It took some time, he was more or less waiting for food in his silent prayers. His hands slowly rested to his lap, "A crate of supplies will only last a short time before we run out, we will likely have to scavange, forage, and hunt for short periods while not near towns. If we wish to negate that, the brute should be able to carry a large sum, if not, we seem to be a well versed group, while I can hunt and forage, I am not sure I can support this size of group. While I think others are those who give and take to the natural ways, I do not wish to make assumptions."

Though he had made several assumptions on those around him, he did not care to say anything about them, most hedid wish or had ideals of what they were like, and what they could do, there was only one he was certain of, almost two, but he had an ideal. He thought long inhis head as he just listened, and then a smell came in.

His eyes slowly came in from his, 'meditation.' In that moment he smelled food, it was good food, and he slowly stood from his imprinted seating arrangement and placed his right hand over his chest, with a thick lipped smile, he said, "bless you and this food, for it smells wonderful." he said his head eyes closed once again and his head bowed forward. He plucked a buiscut from the pile, and moved towards Faline.

"All things are a part of a larger picture... It is likely deliberate, but it is likely a larger plan, one where we are just pawns. Every moment we breathe we are being pulled upon by forces seen and unseen, for a long time the air has been gross, fowl in nature. It is an imbalance in the world; we just have to determine if we are fighting fate or being its accomplice."
Tiny Nord

Morocco


"Hey, Russian's know how to make durable once every hundred years." Tiny said as he rolled back the shield against the wall fixing his new prizes to it, but also looking over it for cracks. "Shield is still good, few rpg blasts but nothing it can't handle, do we have any spare supplies? I heard we have a mech and light armor, if I get close I can get the light armor at least, and this suits all mechanical and hydraulic, only things with electronics is the helmet, and the ac, and both are still good."

He looked down at his knee, and the one working on it as he stood there for a moment, "You got five seconds before I brace it and keep going. We can fix it in a little while, but I can keep moving at a pace with it. The hydraulic on it's been hit for a minute now, so it's something further down, or close to the seal or inner suit. The tube is probably just in the way of it, push it back or push it in. It's your choice, but you can keep going; I'll just be a bit slower."

He followed her out through the arc, and fell behind soon after, he saw the mech, and while he had the suit suited for it, he didn't have the weapons. His shield in front of him, he looked at Athena get swatted away.

"Hey, let me take a crack at him, if anything I can get him off of ya'll while you deal with the other heavy stuff." he slapped his shield and brought out the armor bit, "If ya'll have any extra emp weapons, I could hold him off and maybe even do some damage, I'm all mechanics and hydro, and luckily I don't have a pacemaker. Give me the go, and I'll hop in there."

At that moment, he realized that his headset was mostly broken and decided to give himself a moment of clarity to think about his next choice: BTRs, well, useless against them, light targets, maybe, but that bigger guy, yea. If he could piss that fucker off he would.

He pulled his extra melee from his shield holder, and pulled metal bits and stabilizers out on his shield so he could either quickly brace it, or set it up as a stable and strong wall to keep him from either getting crushed quickly or to keep him from getting shot in a direction, likely both. He rocked it forward off the stabilizers so that he could rock it back and forth on the rollers for a moment, ready to kick them back when he got in position.

That is when he saw a fucking truck slam into it. Well, it was time to go; he rocked for a moment longer before putting his back into it. He forced the hulk of metal forward, remembering and wishing he had a lighter but stronger metal, and he felt the weakening leg joint but kept pushing forward. He and the monstrosity of metal bullshittery that was a his shield kept moving towards the behemoth, and while he himself was one, his was still David in this moment. He rocked back some of the metal bits and just let himself brace his leg joints just before he himself impacted the mech before he looked up to where the operator was pulling the shield back and letting it rest on its mounts. He took his heavy metal axe, and just chucked it towards the fucking operators hatch. It just stuck itself in a hunk of metal a few feet from where he was aiming. Slightly missed shot, that still would have done absolute jack shit.

"Jackshit..." he stared up at the mech before he went to the edge, moving back to the shield before the jackass he just threw his axe at went back to shoot at him. Instead he took his rifle in hand as he just started popping shots off at the dude, mostly to continue to piss him off.
Tiny Nord

Morocco


Tiny pushed on his shield, being more of a crutch for the poorly geared leg. He began to resent the Russians who had made the exo-suit of an ancient time, but he did enjoy its sturdiness. It was something else, able to take a bunch, and he was thankful that it was strong enough to be taken down almost exclusively by large calibers, large explosions, and the eventual thing that got stuck in its mechanical joints, or eats its wiring like a squirrel that one time. But the legs were the weakest part of his armor, he assumed that was what was wrong, or at least that something got knocked loose in the joints of his knee. But problems for later, he has had broken legs before, and he has seen Forrest Gump before, he saw that kid run on those braces.

He stopped for a moment as he reached the next wall and stopped for a second before pushing against it with his shield, "I fuckin' knew I should have brought the 20; they have a mech?" he asked as he pressed against the wall to go through it, not like there wasn't a door or anything he could have used. It might have been too small for him, but it's best to just... Go through it all, he still had enough mechanical power for walls. His shield reeled back for a moment as the nice rounded corner square chunk of wall departed, and he kept moving faster against the next wall. He disliked using his shield in such a brutish way; he already had to get dents out of it and enough bullets and fragmentation, but the stone scraped; he didn't like some of the noises, mostly the ones that sounded like teeth-grinding together.

But it seemed like an efficient way to get through the building, he only wished he hit a hallway first instead of what looked to be some form of living room, or guest room. Some old memories flooded back with the style of interior design and decorating of those within the Islamic world, even the far reaches such as this, but it did bring back a group of memories, good and bad. But, for now, he didn't notice any doors of beads that hung from archways.

He was thankful to not get stuck in those... again, but there was a small hallway, and there it was a garden. A sharp clang came from his back as something hit him, he did not know what, he could not see or pivot around, but he figured it couldn't hurt him, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that looked to be a scimitar bouncing from his back and landing from the ground, it seems the wielder did not enjoy hitting him either.

"I have a bug on me if anyone behind me can get it, I can't turn well in this building." another wall collapsed, he felt what seemed to be some form of rifle on his back, and he finally got fed up with it to see a young man with an old martini henry rifle trying to reload. The man slowly plucked it from his hands, and lifted the belt up hoping it would come off with the rest of the ammo, it didn't, so he tugged until it came off. He looked at the scimitar, and pushed the younger man against the far fall to retrieve his new loot before turning back to the shield.

"Fucking cool." he said as he started to charge the next door, "It's like fucking Iraq all over again with guys using weapons from the British empire, dude had a fucking sword and a martini-henry. I just got shot by a gun older than all of us."

The door shattered as he looked at the garden, and he looked around for a moment. "Okay, I could find only one combatant, and he is armed to fight with Lawrence of Arabia. Now... if nobody minds, I need about a minute of quick repairs 'cause there is a fucking dent from the Fake Irish bastard outside and my leg is starting to hurt from being stuck."
Torsten


"We will likely leave on the morrow; time is something that is fleeting for most." he slowly relaxed back down, looking at the armor and smiling at another fellow connoisseur of size and heft. Nodding towards the other figure of extreme bulk in the room. He closed his eyes and smiled, "So, find the artifact of an ancient civilization that's been looted, well, what hasn't been looted in history? But it's likely in a vault of it's own, or some form of dungeon or hiding spot. Somewhere not easily accessible."

He smiled at the woman who seemed to have a fuss about things, "People look to tradition to solve problems, like finding weeds and certain trees to remedy illnesses and sicknesses, or stories to keep you from eating something poisonous. But with antagonizing the people, that is what people do, we fight. It might not always be verbally, but we enjoy it for sport, or debate. But the governing bodies will always try to look over those others in the world to have control. Those that break away from the mold are those targetted by the loudest minorities, mostly those who hold power, and others will flock to their desires."

"But semantics and politics is something unjoyous... we should enjoy the rest of the night before we begin our journey; I assume we will not have much time to ourselves or to liberties and niceties in the near future, so... enjoy the night however we can before heading out early."

With that, the man slunk onto the couch more and closed his eyes as he looked at peace from his long-winded comment of wisdom.
Give me a minute and I'll post here shortly.
Sapiliezen Hill





"It is a blessing that you are each still alive." the extravagant one spoke as he took a few steps from the group, he was with, in which most of that group followed them, "if I remember it used to be on the far side of the City of Darkness where mages and scholars travelled year round before it's decimation and the bridge was destroyed."

"And if they travel through lands of barbarians that also speaks to that word because they would have to find a route around the sea to another crossing. And up north, and even in our lands there is plenty of treturous creatures through the lands that fill it with destruction and sorrow. It's as if they are a broken though, one which can be found guilty regardless. Barbarism should be illegal and therefore it is for those who are backwater in ways."

The man slowly looked between the three groups of people, those of nobles and squabbling people, the Elveness and her Squire, and the new folk of the Abby. He sighed a bit as he looked between the man, "but... let us find something to eat, and we can ask our questions, and begin our plans. It seems that we are gathering a group of different kinds of people,and advisors are something I need. While you may not be here for that, words of wisdom are always welcome. And I have no need to worry for assassins as long as the mage is with us."
roleplayerguild.com/topics/191969-kin…
roleplayerguild.com/topics/185170-wh4…
roleplayerguild.com/topics/182695-we-…
roleplayerguild.com/topics/182038-exo…

I can't find some of the others, but one was pretty much the last one but space, might have been from a different forum website. World building was always my kinda thing. Top one is the current one I am rping out and enjoying it a bit.

The 40k one I turned into an only war game a few years ago, and rebooted that on roll twenty last year as well. Making it a 40k westmarch, works a lot better as a ttrpg than a forum one, but could still work as a forum rp.
TBF most of these I turned into ttrpgs, and they worked better, just haven't done the top one since not many people play earlier editions of dnd anymore, or pathfinder 1e.
Let me get some of my old links out if I can find them.
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