Jb

Lions of Rhaetia

@The Wyrm Still here, although the OP picture being of Cuirassiers and NOT Dragoons has been irking me ever since you put it up.

Warhammer 40k: Neutral Zone - A Necromunda RP Interest Check

Right, updated the OP, streamlined a plot - would anyone else be interested?

The Blackwood

Wēlanandaz went from speaking openly to returning to his own stoic self, his eyes narrowing almost into slits as he caught sight of the two huge warriors blocking their path, their own silence broken only as Emilio once more opened his big mouth.

While there was no danger in attempting to deal with these knights with the power of words - and sometimes it even worked - the Dwarf had known enough guardians and fanatical combatants to realise that, here and now at least, this may not work out.

Moving his body and limbs with as much cautiousness as Emilio stated his words, Wēlanandaz calmly placed one hand on the hilt of his weapon and then shimmied his shield around his body and onto the forearm of his other arm.

"Be careful, manling," he growled in a low voice, "I don't like the look of this."

@Tony Pajamas@POOHEAD189

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

@BCTheEntity@Andreyich@jbeil

Victorine was somewhat confused for a moment, only two? She had expected at the least a number of foot patrols throughout the Governor's palace, perhaps even a series of overlapping fields of fire? Maybe she was giving these orange-clad betrayers too much credit and they truly were a rabble of disorganised fools... or maybe it was a trap?

Caution had never been a trait the Amazonian Celestian had possessed in abundance however, and the plan proposed by her subordinate seemed to have enough merit that she was willing to give it the go-ahead.

"You have ten minutes to get into position and then we attack. I shall signal with a whistle. Go with His blessing."

She watched the Sister return back toward their entry point, looking to Sister Dominica for a moment and then back around the corner at the two sentries.

"I worry about our young comrade," she half-whispered, loud enough for Alexa to hear but quiet enough not to alert the enemy, "though I applaud her seemingly growing fanatacism, praise be to Him on Terra."

A smile accompanied her words, turning into a snarl as she eyed the two oblivious targets, her own religious fevour growing inside her with each passing moment, one hand finding the hilt of her sarissa and sliding the curved blade from its sheath.

The allotted time had passed - Victorine would attack now and trust in Lisbeth and in the God-Emperor to keep her alive - the Celestian placing two fingers within her mouth and producing a shrill whistle, already turning the corner to throw herself at the nearest guard.

Shaken abruptly from their reverie the closest protector raised their las-weapon in - Victorine noticed with some consternation - unwavering hands and pointed with all the calm of someone assured of their purpose straight toward her.

It was slow... far too slow...

Every Sororitas was at the peak of mortal fitness, exceeding even the training of veteran Guardsmen, and it was because of this that mere moments later the razor sharp blade slipped between a traitors ribs and right into their heart.

Warhammer 40k: Neutral Zone - A Necromunda RP Interest Check

Might make a Squat mercenary like the recent forgeworld models.

@Andreyich

Acceptable, can always use a mechanical-minded gang member after all.

Warhammer 40k: Neutral Zone - A Necromunda RP Interest Check

“Be looking good gangers, all the way back to the Guilders Zone...ya hear me babies? Good...real good...adios.”

Listen well gangers, cus this is a big one - all you Gargantuan Goliaths, easy-going Eschers an craaazy Cawdors - from the Enforcers to the muties, we got a big story here on Vox 87 (the voice of the Underhive); it seems someone didn't take too kindly to a friendly meeting, in fact someone hated it so much that we have a little bit of a situation here! Oh yes, they're dead, all accept one and now we've got a hunt on our hands... listen close, cus here's the names...

Welcome to my Necromunda interest thread.

I'll get straight to the point, I'm looking for a small group (or large, if that many are interested), to take to the Underhive of Hive Primus as wanted men/women of varying gangs/Houses - an event has taken place that has caused not only the death of multiple important House leaders, but now left a power vacuum in large swathes of the Underhive, and your character has been named as having a hand in it if not being named as the main mastermind behind it!

Using your own initiative and combining with others, should you wish to, the objective is to make it to a neutral Guilder zone and hopefully find (possibly temporary) safety there.

It's a straightforward plot and I intend for it to be as such, acting more as a GM in this RP than I usually do, taking the roles of pretty much anyone who isn't another writers character.

Posting will be fine to be slow burn, as I also intend to try and make this the 'first act' of a larger whole, one post every two weeks being perfectly acceptable.

Two final things, firstly if you have any questions then please do ask and I'll get back to you as soon as possible, and lastly I am seeking reliable writers so please, PLEASE, if you intend to disappear just pass on by.

Lions of Rhaetia

In the words of Richard Sharpe, "bastid."

Seriously though, I absolutely love the reference time-frame in our own world history, and I shall put in my interest.

All for One for All! | A WHFB Adventure [APPLY]

Now this was it, this was it!

By the Gods this was where the Elven figure wished to be - for though he had been abroad in the Empire for just over a year now, Karuhar had seen very little of the larger cities, consigning himself to the closer study of and possible death at the hands of rural dullards and their ilk; Ubersreik, Basdahl, Eslohe, Rottfurt... all ill-made shanty towns and hovels in comparison to Altdorf, Marienburg and now Nuln.

Nuln had been called 'the Bastion of the South', a beautiful city of human inventors and weaponsmiths. True, like the entire Empire of Man this now smog-shrouded and seemingly eternally wet territory had once been part of the High Elven civilisation, but as the scholar-mage strolled casually through the busy and cramped streets of Altdorfs largest economic and military rival he could not help but allow himself a smile at how the mayflies of humanity had (poorly and with oh so little finesse) made the place their own.

Now, one might believe that an Elf mage being spattered with grime, soaked by rain, and spat close by by many more superstitious citizens - for although his kindred were not precisely rare within Nuln, Dwarfs and other men were far more common - would make a rather meagre sight for the eyes... and that would be just so!

Fortunately for this Elf, and for the pristine white and sea-blue clothing he wore, he could simply admire the sights, smells and sounds of Nuln from behind the bodily-encompassing bubble of unseeable magic that he had produced about himself, the only evidence for such a feat being a tiny spatter and shimmer of air when a raindrop deigned to fall upon him.

Eyes glared at him, mouths gawked at him, and hushed words reached his pointed ears as he sauntered down the streets toward the appointed tavern but he simply ignored them with all the haughtiness of a being that would outlive even the children passing by and pointing at him as innocents will do.

Interesting, he thought to himself as he neared the inn with a click-clack of his staff on the cobbled street, oh so very interesting!

Had he not been keeping his composure, he could have clapped his hands together and touched everything within reach, for that was why he had come to the Old World in the first place with his fellow students of the Tower.

Now he was alone, and about to embark upon something much different than simple anthropology.

---

"Agniezka Voorman."

The rather ugly barmaid looked Karuhar up and down, clearly unimpressed after having seen so many other potential candidates, one arm pointing to a set of stairs. It was clear that although agents were usually taken down the stairs, this haggard creature did not like the cut of his personality or looks after only two words.

Karuhar gave the slightest incline of his head, swept his blackened gaze over the strangely empty establishment, and then almost glided toward the indicated stairway.

For others it would no doubt of looked just like any other stairway, the corridors, ramps, ladders and so forth were lit up like an Imperial festival to one of his profession - whoever had woven the illusions in this location were skilled, very much so, and the Asur couldn't help brushing a slender and manicured hand over the wall as he turned another corner and then another that would appear to be the same corner but was not.

What fascination, what fun!

By the time Karuhar entered the room where the three other persons of interest now sat together - in what seemed like silence for the moment - the mage was, for an Elf anyway, in quite a fine mood. He was no longer scowling at everything, eyeing everything down his nose, or even producing that ever-present air of stoic calm that seemed to irritate other races so much.

The large man and the even larger Bretonnian drew quick looks from him, but it was the third figure that took up most of his interest. This man, for he was human in spite of the 'feeling' surrounding him, was somehow different to the others, different enough for Karuhar to narrow his eyes a fraction and take a seat not far from him even as Hugo gestured for the High Elf to take a seat.

Take a seat he did in customary Elvish style, with a sweep of his hand and a touch of backside to seat so gentle that it seemed as if he had drifted down to it on a breeze, his back as straight as a well-forged blade, and his staff apparently holding itself upright next to him.

No food or drink he asked for, but through his mind a million things made their way, so it had been for him and always would be.

All for One for All! | A WHFB Adventure [APPLY]

@Andreyich Here he is, please feel free to critique and talk about changes etc.

Karuhar the Scholar

Full Name and Aliases (if any): Karuhar 'the Scholar'

Race: Asur (High Elf)

Homeland: While Lothern and their wider Kingdom of Eataine are perhaps the most famous Elvish kingdom to outsiders of Ulthuan, there can be no doubt that it is the hardy folk of coastal Cothique who truly rule the waves around the island-nation and beyond – it is from within these sea-soaked borders that Karuhar hails, the wanderlust bred into him by his people and seafaring ancestors more-or-less guaranteeing that he could not remain on Ulthuan forever.

Faith: The High Elf pantheon is Karuhar's religious foundation, as a student of magic and seeker of knowledge he worships above others Hoeth the Lord of Wisdom, and as an Elf from the seafaring kingdom of Cothique he is extremely well acquainted with Mathlann, the Lord of the Deeps.

Sex: Male (though he's an Elf, so it's hit or miss really)

Appearance: Karuhar matches quite well to the popular image of a High Elf, being at least a head taller than most humans, possessed of a willowy body type and slender shape, and being almost impossible to tell the gender of at first glance because of his sharp and quite androgynous facial features.

What sets him apart somewhat is his long brown hair, something unfamiliar to most humans, who would probably assume all Asur are blonde and blue-eyed, this isn't helped by his almost solid black eyes that give him an alien appearance and a seemingly bottomless gaze.

Sometimes the scholar may seem somewhat effeminate, his movements graceful to the extreme, and his speech measured and precise, but he is no pushover psychically and there are many who made the error of misjudging him and regretting it... those that lived anyway.

The Bait: Cothique can be seen amongst the Elves to be the most outward facing of all the islands kingdoms, the mariners of that half-sunken realm traversing the globe in enchanted vessels of purest white, more to hunt their enemies and for exploration than the tradesmen of Lothern commonly seen in Marienburg or Altdorf.

Karuhar was born amidst these audacious people, spending the first century or so of his life accompanying his father, brothers and uncles on seafaring voyages and seeing much of the world, only bringing it all to an end when a desire for deep knowledge took him – something that could only be found in the magical realm of Saphery and the Tower of Hoeth.

For the next two and a half centuries he expanded his mind and his burgeoning magical abilities with the mages and intellectuals of the Tower, gaining a thorough grounding in Elvish sorcery (otherwise known as 'High' or 'True' Magic, sometimes referred to as the lore of Qhaysh) that would make most human mages seem inexperienced at the least, his mental faculties rising simultaneously, with both his skills-at-arms and further magical training leaving something to be worked on.

It was in his three-hundredth-and-fifty-second year that he was given the opportunity to travel to the Old World with a coterie of other Asur, by decree of the Phoenix King himself, in order to judge the current situation there and record all he could of the goings on; being a studious observer of peoples, Karuhar was given the task of transcribing whatever anthropological and ethnographic observations he could.

Set sail they did shortly after, arriving in Marienburg on a rain-sodden day, each member of the new arrivals setting about their tasks with gusto!

It was almost pure chance that Karuhar was approached by a cagey individual while resting in Ubersreik, a man who claimed to be part of an organisation dedicated to fighting evil in the Old World wherever it reared its ugly head, offering the young Elf a chance to join the so-called 'Black Badges'.

Most Asur are 'good' innately, for they have shed more blood defending the world than any others can claim, the scholar-elf well aware of the insipid evils of Chaos and the murderous hordes of the Greenskin menace, Ulthuan having been permanently marked by numerous threats from beyond its shores enough times over, so given the chance to help forestall apparent doom and work closely with the lesser races at the same time, what else could Karuhar say but yes?

The Catch: One may say that Karuhar is the ideal candidate for a clandestine organisation dedicated to fighting the good fight, for he is an Elf first of all, a magic using one at that, and one that can act as mage, warrior or scribe/record keeper when the need comes upon he and his compatriots. He can also speak multiple languages, and is senior to most others at the middle-age of three-hundred-and-fifty-three mortal years, it is hard to see why the Badges would not wish him in their ranks.

Initial Possessions: In garb and armament this Asur gives off what he considers to be a balance between fighter and student, dressing mostly in an altered bottom layer of white Elvish robes bordered with aquamarine blue – the sleeves tied shut at the wrists, and the calf-length lower half girded by a stout human-made leather belt – his equally loose (some might say baggy or flowing) white trousers tucked into a sturdy pair of knee-high travelling boots.

Over this he wears a robust Elven cuirass, the shoulder guards curving out to protect those vulnerable parts, his limbs left mostly unprotected.

Over all of this he will wear a brown hooded travelling cloak if the need or the weather calls for it, it being human made and something of a sentimental keepsake from his initial landing in Marienburg and his first step into the Old World.

In terms of weapons and equipment he carries little, making do with a strong but slender longsword at his waist, a simple staff of wood topped with an artists rendition of a Black Leviathan head in gold and with a bronze spike at the bottom, as well as several reams of replaceable parchment and basic writing tools strapped to his person usually carried on his back or at his side.

Unlike many Asur, at least those in Ulthuan, he makes do with tying his shoulder-length hair into a simple ponytail with a strip of leather engraved with Eltharin lettering.

Current Possessions: For now, mirrored with the above.

The Blackwood

Something that Emilio probably knew nothing about, but that Wēlanandaz had been told tales of since his beard was barely stubble, was that the Dwarven race had quite literally been born under the earth and carved from solid rock; to this end everything they did was deliberate, not slow and pondering as some may have believed, but all was taken with an energetic graduality that was a core characteristic of his folk and one which he now put into practice.

After stepping back onto terra firma with an inward sigh of relief, allowing no expression to mar his face without, he waited for the human to cease his fussing over 'their' cart animal - the only type of animal that Wēlanandaz could nevertheless endure, seeing then as hard working and somewhat kindred spirits - and waved a hand at Emilio as he gestured toward the cart.

Did this man not realise that he could walk for miles without rest? That unless the cart picked up speed he could not lose it on his feet alone?

Wēlanandaz did two things as they walked, firstly plucking his pipe from his belt and popping the teeth-marked stem between his lips - fully intent on lighting it when they next halted their movement - and secondly taking as much interest in the path ahead and around them as his ganglier compatriot.

It was only when Emilio next spoke that the Dwarf responded, even going as far as to allow the ghost of a smile to pass by and vanish beneath his great beard, the tone in the man's voice and his sarcasm-laced words giving some hidden mirth to the blacksmith even as he propped at a passing shrub with his axe haft.

"You know, Emi," he began in an airy way, rolling his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, "I often wonder how it is that you and all the other manlings do not simply float off into the sky, you are all filled with so much hot air and trapped wind."

Verbal patter was a game that most Dwarves enjoyed to one extent or another, and Wēlanandaz was an old Dwarf, which meant he enjoyed it all that much more.

When he next spoke though it was with furrowed brow, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked both inside and out at the same time to study their current trail as well as his own memories, and his free hand first adjusting the shield on his back and then giving his beard a stroke.

"I was thinking of an old time, a better time, a time when I was still welcome with my own people..." there was a slight pause before he went on, his voice more serious and quieter than it had previously been, thought no less like two granite chunks rubbing together, "tales my uncle used to tell me, of old wars within the Blackwood, evil kingdoms and wraiths... but more importantly of two Virki - you would call them strongholds or castles - of my people, somewhere in the west of the woods. They rose long ago, but nothing has been heard of them for some time. I fear for them."

Momentarily lapsing back into silence, Wēlanandaz spoke up once more, his tone back to being partially mocking.

"And so? What did you learn manling, as you tried to seduce that gruff man's young son with your honeyed words and fancy airs. Where by Runar are we going?"

@Tony Pajamas@POOHEAD189