Jb

The Elder Scrolls: Heart of Darkness

For all his perceived dick-like behaviour, the absolute-loving Dunmer was not wrong in his assumptions, for a mere eyes distance away among the tall grass and vegetation was the spot where they had been watched ever since their arrival. Covered in the earth of her land and the sweat of her body she had waited, watching, studying the strangers with a state of mind and attentiveness as ingrained into her mind as the green markings were into her flesh. A couple of feet behind her was a scene that would have been scoffed at by most 'experienced woodsmen'; a small gathering of grass and river reeds for a bed, a stone for a pillow, the smallest fire she could get away with building, and a half-day-old carcass of a roasted piglet – it was from this place that she had watched and waited, and now decided that it was time to approach her apparent employer.

It had taken some weeks to travel from the interior of Valenwood to, what to her and her people at least, was the farthest away from home that she dared travel. She had never even been to Arenthia before, in spite of it laying upon her very doorstep, and place of outsiders and stone buildings – odd sights, odd smells, no good to her - and even coming this far out of her life among the tall trees made her feel vulnerable and consistently on edge; for this reason she had rarely let the smooth feeling of her bow leave the grip of her hand, her palm feeling empty without it.

Why was she even here? A question she could not really answer, the messenger – and the Clan Mother besides – telling her very little, perhaps neither really knowing much, and it was even as she stood and began to make her way out of the long grass that she began to think that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Ah, the feeling of riverbed silt between her bare toes, now that was something she did not mind the feeling of! Something made quite obvious by the way she moved out of the fringe of grass, her pure black eyes constantly moving this way and that – not that one would be able to tell without the presence of a visible sclera – as she knelt down and rummaged a fistful of it through her digits. It was different to the soil further in the forest, drier due to the sun that beat down upon her exposed skin and yet more absorbent for all that, just another oddity to remember on the return journey.

Remaining squatted down, already short enough but becoming even shorter, she duck-waddled over to the edge of the river and knelt beside it. Ever guarded she had waited for the Dunmer to take his seat at the camp sight once more before making her way to the waters edge, her bow and quiver pressed against her bare back and her hatchet and dagger secure on each hip (just in case...), dipping her cupped hands into the water and allowing it to slip between her lips and sharpened teeth. It bought a sigh of satisfaction from her, and only now did she even bother to look back at the clearly nervous Imperial and his dour friend.

Why was the Man, the one she assumed was the Imperial by the way his ears rounded at the tips and his almost rotund face, wearing a shell of metal? In this heat? Perhaps he was touched in the mind?

"Hector!"

The shout from nearby was enough to snap what little bravery she had gathered to meet these strangers, her nerve finally snapping, and in milliseconds of motion she had snatched her bow from about her shoulders and levelled an arrow directly at the thin interloper.

"It's me, Roland."

Row-land?

She must have looked slightly ridiculous stood in the middle of a river, the water washing about her feet (and pleasant it was too), a bow with a nocked arrow threatening to impale one who may well be important to this endeavour. Aye, dressed as she was in almost nothing, and with her diminutive height, to many it may well have looked comical...but to those who knew anything about the Bosmer, well, there was much less reason to smile at her expense.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Necroes@Sophrus@Klomster@Wraithblade6@BCTheEntity

Okay, so, in short we're all fucked!

Now, there's one place that the group - once said group is in the same room - may be safe; and that is the exact place everyone was trying to get to. See what I've done here?

That's pretty much it, really, gather the clan and run away to a safer place.

P.S.

Sorry about, truth be told I had pretty much burnt myself out on 40k, and work was not helping, but I'm here now and hope you are too.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Necroes@Sophrus@Klomster@Wraithblade6@BCTheEntity

All was confusion for Vedius, all around were unfamiliar things happening that in his ten-thousand years or so he had never seen before; members of the Mechanicum turning into black mists, a Greenskin capable of blowing apart enemy warriors at a whim, and a lone member of the First Legion, all gathered aboard what had previously been a vessel for his own legion and was now somewhat of a tomb instead.

As the ball of psychic power launched itself toward the mutants, unseen as of yet by Xepherial or himself, he too launched himself out of the projectiles trajectory and landed heavily behind a jutting piece of bulkhead that had pierced the floor of the ship. With his sense of unease growing, an odd sensation for any Astartes to feel, he plucked his dropped bolter from the floor and glanced about as mutants began to die by the hand of swirling black clouds and the Dark Angel annihilated another of the remaining creatures.

Who were these interlopers? Why were they here? How long had be been asleep?!

Could things get any wo-

“There they are!” Came an amplified shout from somewhere behind the mutants, further bursts of bolter fire coming from the doorway beyond, “neutralise the enemy, in the name of the God-Emperor!”

Feminine forms appeared from the doorway, their corset like bodices of black and their symbol the fleur-de-lys, all manner of weapons clutched in their hands and the fanaticism in the eyes of those that went bareheaded was visible even from this distance.

“What is this?!” Choked Vedius out loud, his voice a robotised burst of puzzlement, “warrior women? God-Emperor?”

For one moment he believed that they might be able to solve this without murdering one another, but something stirred within them as they clapped eyes on his purple armour and the golden symbol of the Aquila, something that bought explosive-tipped bolts toward him like a hail of rain...one which he hardly avoided, tossing himself over the cover which he was behind and landing hard on the other side.

Things had just gotten far more interesting.

---

These walking sacks of food had been fortunate so far, for they had evaded him...but that time was now over.

Now gathered in enough strength to overwhelm them, gathered up as he was within one of the vent shafts nearby, the Broodlord squirmed and screeched as he sent out a mental pulse which gathered to him a veritable army of Tyranid organisms – some pure Genestealers and others the rotten and human like rabble of further generations – all prepared to lay down their lives for the Hive Mind and the Broodlord in particular.

A powerful lunge of his legs and the creature was off like a rocket, the rest of its kind hard on its heels, drawn to the ensuing conflict as a shark was drawn to blood.

It was the foremost oncoming wave of nattering and hissing creatures that Lucius was about to encounter, the corridor filling slowly with them as they sought out new bio-mass to consume, the only other way to go being actually toward the sound of battle coming from nearby - it was either that or try to fight the Tyranids on there own.

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently closed!

@Wraithblade6 I feel like you just went on a massive tirade, and probably should have bought this to my attention earlier, to be honest.

If you were tired of fighting/killing scenes, then all you had to do was tell me, but you wait until now to do it?

I'm going to kill off our Chaplain, our Sanguinary Priest, and probably @Hank 'Sorrow' as well - he does the disappearing act quite a lot.

I feel like we all really need to collab intensely about what we want or this rp is dead right now.

This I do agree with, so tell me (@Zelosse@Wraithblade6@DracoLunaris) what do you want?

If you want to just skip to the bridge, I can do that. If you'd rather kill these things, then that's possible to; half my RPs die because of me, and the other half because the players shove their heads up their own arses and don't bother interacting with me...they just melt away into nothingness without so much as a damn word to me!

So, I'm giving you pretty much carte blanch to kill the Wrecks however you like - shout commands, mow them down, have them kill of the above in whatever way you'd like - after that I can just get you all to the bridge and end this.

If there's anything else you'd like to do, then tell me now.

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently closed!

No-one is going to rid me of these xenos? I'm going to have to massacre the entire Kill-team?

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Sophrus@Klomster@Wraithblade6@Necroes@BCTheEntity

I'll be getting a post up tomorrow that will move us all along, child of the Emperor's honour!

That being said, I did tell you to do it yourself; things like having Lucius witnessed entering the fight, taking care of the mutants, beginning to hash things out in a dialogue, these are things you have no need of a GM to do.

I realise that I'm controlling a character, but minor godmodding - such as having him roll behind something to avoid fire etc - it not considered a penalty if I tell you to get on with things.

This, and I have been pretty 40k'ed out for a couple of weeks.

Again, hold onto your firearms, because things are going to go from bad to worse.

@agentmanatee No doubt that'll be fun! Send me a CS and we'll see about making it a reality.

Star Wars: TIE Fighter - Join the Galactic Empire today!

It's been nineteen years since the Declaration of a New Order, and as far as the average citizen knows, there is nothing but peace and prosperity.

The Confederacy of Independent Systems have long since been defeated, leaving the galaxy unified under one rule again. The Jedi Order, who started the Clone Wars to destabilize the galaxy in the first place and help give them the opportunity to seize control of the Galactic Republic, have largely been purged. And while there are some misguided youths who would dare rise up against the Empire, in the end, they are always snuffed out by the Empire's seemingly infinite number of armies and fleets.

You don't have much going for you, and maybe you're feeling patriotic or like going on an adventure, so you decide to join the Empire!

You don't know that the Emperor is a dark lord of the Sith, that the Jedi were really innocent and you haven't seen enough of the galaxy yet to realize that the Empire, at it's core, is really an authoritarian regime who will crush even the slightest sign of dissidence.

Maybe you've heard whispers of rebellion, maybe somebody's tried to warn you about the truth, but what do they really know? They're a rebel, or at least a supporter of the rebellion! Why would you believe the word of a terrorist over the government? Or maybe you didn't have a choice. You're a smuggler, you're neck deep in debt with the Hutts, and you've seen just enough to know the Empire is a little oppressive. But it's either spend a life on the run from bounty hunters who want to kill you or join the Empire, where maybe you'll be safe. OK Sure, maybe you'll see some combat, but the rebels aren't too much of a threat... right?

Your Empire needs you!

To join the Starfighter Corps, simply click the poster above.

Star Wars: TIE Fighter

@Emnosym Ah, a brave pilot arrives!

Love the avatar btw, one of my favourite pictures and myths.

The Elder Scrolls: Heart of Darkness

Erissil Stagshoof

Name: Erissil Stagshoof

Age: 112

Gender: Female

Race: 'Wood Elf' (Bosmer)

Birthsign: The Thief

Appearance(from head to toe): This Bosmer stands at a proud height of five-feet-and-three-inches (160.02 cm), her life spent in the lush woodlands of her homeland probably having something to do with that, as well as the mixed heritage of Bosmer biology.

Rich locks of auburn hair tumble down from her head to the middle of her back, most commonly either left free or drawn up into a topknot of sorts, autumnal leaves and the feathers of various birds woven into the curls and about her pointed ears, two small but noticeable antlers of bleached bone visible as they poke through fringe of hair on either side of her forehead.

Below this nest of hair and thin brows of a similar colour is a face that has never seen a drop of foreign blood, a curious and expressive visage holding the balanced oddity of Mer features – a face both beautiful to look upon, but equally just as otherworldly; this is no travelling tradesman or mercenary soldier, but the slender and point-chinned face of one who has spent their entire life in Valenwood. Eyes of pure black look out from deep-set sockets, high cheekbones flanking a slender and slightly button nose, a mouth with full but pale lips concealing two rows of pointed teeth behind them, all set into flesh 'Caucasian' in colour but almost constantly daubed with a layer of dirt and grime.

She possesses a graceful and sylphlike form of packed muscle as one progresses lower – her limbs like coiled springs of corded muscle and her overall frame not as 'light' as one might expect from one of the Mer – she is nevertheless broader than her Altmer cousins across the shoulder, and owns the athletic form of one who has spent their entire life in a constant state of exercise and readiness for conflict; life within Valenwood is anything but easy, and she is living proof of this.

One thing that does mark her out from any other lineage of Mer are the various elaborate tattoos and markings patterning her body and face (the facial marking being especially extensive, covering almost any spare flesh) using a method unknown to man, but probably carved into the flesh, causing it to look more like bark if the dye should fade. These designs vary from appearing as the veins of forest leaves, to the swirls and interlocking variations more often seen among the Bosmer peoples than any others of their kindred. These patterns are generally varying hues of green, giving Erissil a more natural camouflage as well as accentuating her already otherworldly look.

She wears nothing upon her hardened feet, capable of walking over most things without damage.

Biography: Born deep in Valenwood, in the densely forested region known as Malabal Tor, to the rightly feared and often avoided Stagshoof tribe, there is actually very little to tell of Erissil or her life before the arrival of Hector Sibassius and his expedition into her homeland. She grew up much like any other Bosmer, taking on the religion of the Green Pact from her extended family and being trained in the use of the bow by her father, learning all that she needed to know to survive; in the end, isn't it always about survival?

She was seventy-six when the Great War of 4E171 began, when the Aldmeri Dominion and the Imperial forces of Emperor Titus Mede II began their drawn out conflict of bloodshed. In spite of Thalmor control of Valenwood – following from three years earlier, when the Dominion had first annexed the 'province' – and some support from the otherwise insular Bosmer, the Stagshoof clan remain as neutral as they can and therefore outside of the worst of the fighting; whether this was due to allegiances or simply because of their isolation from the outside world did not matter.

Time moved along as it did...the Imperial forces beat the Elvish forces back...and Valenwood went on as it always had.

The blood of Bosmer had been spilt though, for not all had remained out of the conflict, and it was only a year before the end of the war that a group of Aldmeri-aligned Bosmer assailed the treetop homes of the Stagshoof clan. It was a somewhat unfair fight, for the terrain and locals knowledge was with the defenders, and by the end of the raid it would appear that the attackers had simply disappeared into the woodlands.

The clan feasted well after that.

Unknowing of faraway things such as the Stormcloak rebellion, the Stagshoof people were nevertheless highly connected to their land, and when an unknown presence entered the forest they were one of the first to feel it in the roots and the air. Something was not right, something had to be done.

It was a gloomy day when an odd Bosmer, one clad in light clothing of an Imperial manufacture and bearing a missive from an individual he claimed as some sort of 'Hand', appeared before the Clan Mother and requested aid in a matter of the utmost urgency. He assured them it would be to the benefit of them all, seeking only a native guide from a clan that had remained neutral during the Great War – with no ties to Imperial or Aldmeri – to lead a small group into the confines of Valenwood.

Much debate was had before Erissil was gifted the task, the Mother and elders of the clan probably not told the entirety of the matter and assured that it would be a quite safe 'job' - clearly the Imperial Bosmer had learnt how to lie during his time in the Empire.

Unaware of Akhar or the true reasons for the arrival of Hector, she now goes to meet he and his compatriots with relish. What will she learn from these strangers? What do they look like? What do they taste like?

Personality: Like most of her kind she is generally affable and welcoming of outsiders, Valenwood having taken in its fair share of strangers in its long existence, although coming from one of the more insular clans she remains wary and cautious – even skittish – around those she has entirely no connection to; adding to this later penchant for observation before interaction is her bare-bones grasp of Tamrielic, what she does speak usually being quite broken and causing others to see her as unintelligent - possibly true in the conventional sense, but animal cunning and almost genius-like improvisational skills usually put that to rest quite quickly!

What probably effects her personality and mental state the most is not her isolation from 'Civilised society', but a long standing religious tradition of those Bosmer who choose to remain in the deep depths of Valenwood, known to the world as the Green Pact. It is this pact with Y'ffre that not only keeps her from devolving back into a more primordial form (hence the presence of antlers growing from her body), but it also causes her to appear more savage than would otherwise be the case.

Eating a slain foe within three days (the so-called Meat Mandate), protecting the flora and fauna of Valenwood, and producing products of non-plant based varieties are just a few of the things – along with a lot of faith – required of the Green Pact Bosmer.

It is a religious belief that Erissil follows to the letter, and those accompanying her should probably be aware of, for if they cause her to break the Pact...then it may well be their carcasses upon her plate.

Skills: Everything you would expect of a Valenwood native, and one who has lived for over a century to boot!

While there may well be those versed in stealth and subterfuge throughout the world – the Dark Brotherhood being a prime example – within the confines of Valenwood it would be hard to find anyone better than the diminutive inhabitants of the place. Erissil has spent her entire life having to live (some would say cope) in what is essentially the most unsafe 'forest' in Tamriel, a place where to anger the wrong critter or a neighbouring clan could mean your painful end at any moment, something that has affected her development deeply.

Tracking, path-finding, the wielding of a bow, these things come as second nature to her; do you need an animal ran to ground and bagged? No problem. A throat slit by an unseen assailant in the dead of night, as if they were killed by the jungle itself? Easily done. Need some natural poisons to coat a weapon? Here they are.

There is no magic within her, beside the affinity that all Bosmer seem to have with the creatures of nature, and while she is able to perform many feats that may appear magical to others there is no magic involved beside basic instincts and decades of honing them in the light deprived depths of Malabal Tor.

Equipment: Although the Bosmer are not forbidden to use material such as wool, fibres from fur and flesh, and other such thing, there are those within Valenwood that are more barbarous than others. The Stagshoof clan have never shied away from showing themselves in this more backward light, proud followers of the Green Pact and unconcerned with the outside world unless it comes knocking.

Due to this, Erissil clothes herself in such little clothing that strangers would no doubt find it salacious!

On her lower body there is nothing but a stout belt of woven hide, hanging from it a breechclout crafted from the same creature (the ubiquitous stag that gave the clan its name), squares of hide draped over the front and the back - the cloth winding over the belt, under it, and over it again – but leaving the bare legs free to move as they will.

As one moves higher and follows the line of her firm flesh they shall find the remainder of the animal, a large male by the amount of skin it left over, has been crafted into 'shawl' of sorts – a large piece of the hide able to be wrapped about her shoulders, reaching down to her lower back, an imported brooch of Imperial design used to fasten the two together about her neck; beneath it she wears nothing but a strip of hide to keep everything in place when traversing her home.

At a pinch, and in times of need, she can don loose-fitting robes of gossamer and flax layered over the top of with more sturdy treated leather – these reinforced sections mostly covering her shoulders and around the waist area, but prefers to leave the restrictive clothing for those who need it.

Her armament, such as it is, follows along these lines – her foremost weapon being the ever present bow of her people, a 'short bow' of a recurved design constructed from imported wood and layered with bone, the string made from animal hair. Paired with this is a quiver, worn across the back, containing numerous arrows of varying designs. From the most common arrow, a simple triangular-headed shaft, to bodkin arrows more capable of piercing thick flesh and armour. These tips are usually crafted from bone, although some make use of iron for arrows that would otherwise be unable to penetrate anything more than leather armour.

For closer fighting (which she tends to avoid) as well as general purpose tasks, she carries on her hips – one tucked into her belt and the other in a sheath on the opposite hip - an iron-headed hatchet capable of being thrown or as a melee weapon and a double-edged dagger handled with deer bone.

Lastly are what one would call 'miscellaneous' items – these includes a bone pendant of Y'ffre's symbol that hangs about her neck, and a small pouch at the rear of her belt containing medicinal herbs.

Other: She enjoys mimicry and playing tricks, is a pretty good seamstress with materials she knows, and is eager to learn if a little withdrawn at first.

Star Wars: TIE Fighter

No one willing to fly into combat with no deflector shield in a sub-standard superiority fighter/bomber, for the glory of the Galactic Empire?

I understand.