Jinxer Member
The British One
- Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Jinxer
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1243 (0.27 / day)
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Username history
- Jinxer 12 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
11 yrs ago
Currently living inside Life is Strange.
11 yrs ago
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack.
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Most Recent Posts
I think moving on is a good plan - there's not much any of us can write about without it becoming very boring dialogue.
I'll give time for the conversation, Henry's posts are more filler to keep momentum going right now. I should get something with the Queen at some point too.
If say... not *yet* but I do have plans for the future, does that pique your interest?
I'm flexible either way - whichever everyone prefers!
And the OOC (with signups) is here:
http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/15948/posts/ooc?page=1
http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/15948/posts/ooc?page=1
Interest Check here.
Friday, 3rd January 2014 CE. St Paul's Cathedral, London.
The last tourists were leaving the Cathedral, the old Deacon thanking each of them for donations they felt obliged to give under his guilt-giving gaze, dropping coins into the box he held out towards them as they left. Eventually the great door was closed but of course it would be absurd for all those who worked in the Cathedral, such as those in the gift shop and the security guards and the other members of the clergy to leave by such huge doors; they would all leave by the side door.
Humming a cheerful tune to himself the elderly man made his way slowly to the stairs which led to the gallery high above. As age had passed it became harder and harder for him to climb those stairs but it had kept him fit when he had little time for other exercise so he was grateful that his small office-chamber was accessible only by the gallery. Barely had he made it to the top of the stairs and was merrily making his way to his room when a deep rumbling, almost a grating, sounded from below. Fearing an earthquake the old man instinctively clung to the sturdy stone pillar nearby and looked down to the floor below. Cracks were spreading like a spider's web across it and then the stone communion table fell down along with the dais, pulpit and much else into a dark pit.
"By God..." The man blasphemed as he saw the darkness of the pit was... moving. It writhed with hundreds of smaller shapes which began to flow out from the hole and into the chamber itself. The dark shapes varied in size and shape but they all gave off a sense of dread. They looked this way and that like dogs on the hunt, as sniffing the air to find a scent. Then the creatures rushed in all directions like a dark tide, spreading out across the floor with their numbers seemingly endless. The old deacon hurried to his office and pushed the door closed, locking it with a key kept in his desk. Only then did he hear the first screams which echoed in the great, cavernous space of the Cathedral's high roofed hall. Muttering prayers and psalms under his breath the deacon reached for a phone and began to dial a number but there was nothing. No dial tone, no empty buzz to say the line was dead; nothing.
Street lamps that had come on, even though it wasn't properly dark outside, were flickering out as if extinguished by some unseen force and cars and motorcycles were simply stopping to work on the roads; all visible to the deacon from his office. Then the thumping on his door sounded. He reached for the small wooden crucifix his daughter, now a mother herself, had made for him half a lifetime ago and held it up towards the door in the hope such a religious icon might save him from the nameless monsters.
It didn't.
The Twilight Beasts invaded the world from its large religious buildings, erupting all of a sudden on the same day across every continent as if from Hell itself. They were given this name for their fondness for attacking at night, surging over all defences like a black wave and slaughtering anything, human or not, with no apparent aim in mind.
Two years have passed since they first arrived and humanity has already been pushed back from much of their land; every capital or highly populated city has been lost with the more defensible settlements being those which have escaped the onslaught best.
Now a radical new strategy has been developed: from all over the world young recruits from the various military wings have been called in to form a single organisation dedicated to fighting against the Twilight Beasts. Not only are they to defend those remaining cities but they are also to retake those which were lost. The first thousand to join this experimental unit have been gathered in France at Calais, ready to take back Rouen and then Paris as a test of their effectiveness.
Details:
For whatever reason, the presence of Twilight Beasts causes modern inventions to cease working. This includes lighting, vehicles and, most importantly, modern weaponry. It has been proven that modern artillery is still effective against the Twilight Beasts if fired from far enough away however even the most advanced of firearms, such as Sniper Rifles, have proven to have too short a range. For this reason the Guardians have been trained with more basic weaponry: swords, lances, crossbows and bows and other, 'medieval', weaponry.
Flintlock and basic gunpowder weapons have proven to be mildly effective but still less practical than crossbows and other bladed weapons.
Very little is known about the Twilight Beasts. They have no apparent history in literature or mythology and their behavior seems to be random most of the time although sometimes signs of organisation and leadership have been noted.
Character Skeleton:
Name:
Gender:
Age: (Between 16 and 25)
Nationality: (They'll speak English, if not fluently, regardless so go crazy)
Appearance: (Photos with minor description - everyone will wear standard uniform (which will be described in the IC) but feel free to 'dress' your character up in casual wear).
Biography: (A paragraph or two here - don't feel the need to add masses but a fair amount would be good).
Speciality: (Units will be formed of ranged, melee, tactical and engineering specialists).
Friday, 3rd January 2014 CE. St Paul's Cathedral, London.
The last tourists were leaving the Cathedral, the old Deacon thanking each of them for donations they felt obliged to give under his guilt-giving gaze, dropping coins into the box he held out towards them as they left. Eventually the great door was closed but of course it would be absurd for all those who worked in the Cathedral, such as those in the gift shop and the security guards and the other members of the clergy to leave by such huge doors; they would all leave by the side door.
Humming a cheerful tune to himself the elderly man made his way slowly to the stairs which led to the gallery high above. As age had passed it became harder and harder for him to climb those stairs but it had kept him fit when he had little time for other exercise so he was grateful that his small office-chamber was accessible only by the gallery. Barely had he made it to the top of the stairs and was merrily making his way to his room when a deep rumbling, almost a grating, sounded from below. Fearing an earthquake the old man instinctively clung to the sturdy stone pillar nearby and looked down to the floor below. Cracks were spreading like a spider's web across it and then the stone communion table fell down along with the dais, pulpit and much else into a dark pit.
"By God..." The man blasphemed as he saw the darkness of the pit was... moving. It writhed with hundreds of smaller shapes which began to flow out from the hole and into the chamber itself. The dark shapes varied in size and shape but they all gave off a sense of dread. They looked this way and that like dogs on the hunt, as sniffing the air to find a scent. Then the creatures rushed in all directions like a dark tide, spreading out across the floor with their numbers seemingly endless. The old deacon hurried to his office and pushed the door closed, locking it with a key kept in his desk. Only then did he hear the first screams which echoed in the great, cavernous space of the Cathedral's high roofed hall. Muttering prayers and psalms under his breath the deacon reached for a phone and began to dial a number but there was nothing. No dial tone, no empty buzz to say the line was dead; nothing.
Street lamps that had come on, even though it wasn't properly dark outside, were flickering out as if extinguished by some unseen force and cars and motorcycles were simply stopping to work on the roads; all visible to the deacon from his office. Then the thumping on his door sounded. He reached for the small wooden crucifix his daughter, now a mother herself, had made for him half a lifetime ago and held it up towards the door in the hope such a religious icon might save him from the nameless monsters.
It didn't.
The Twilight Beasts invaded the world from its large religious buildings, erupting all of a sudden on the same day across every continent as if from Hell itself. They were given this name for their fondness for attacking at night, surging over all defences like a black wave and slaughtering anything, human or not, with no apparent aim in mind.
Two years have passed since they first arrived and humanity has already been pushed back from much of their land; every capital or highly populated city has been lost with the more defensible settlements being those which have escaped the onslaught best.
Now a radical new strategy has been developed: from all over the world young recruits from the various military wings have been called in to form a single organisation dedicated to fighting against the Twilight Beasts. Not only are they to defend those remaining cities but they are also to retake those which were lost. The first thousand to join this experimental unit have been gathered in France at Calais, ready to take back Rouen and then Paris as a test of their effectiveness.
Details:
For whatever reason, the presence of Twilight Beasts causes modern inventions to cease working. This includes lighting, vehicles and, most importantly, modern weaponry. It has been proven that modern artillery is still effective against the Twilight Beasts if fired from far enough away however even the most advanced of firearms, such as Sniper Rifles, have proven to have too short a range. For this reason the Guardians have been trained with more basic weaponry: swords, lances, crossbows and bows and other, 'medieval', weaponry.
Flintlock and basic gunpowder weapons have proven to be mildly effective but still less practical than crossbows and other bladed weapons.
Very little is known about the Twilight Beasts. They have no apparent history in literature or mythology and their behavior seems to be random most of the time although sometimes signs of organisation and leadership have been noted.
Character Skeleton:
Name:
Gender:
Age: (Between 16 and 25)
Nationality: (They'll speak English, if not fluently, regardless so go crazy)
Appearance: (Photos with minor description - everyone will wear standard uniform (which will be described in the IC) but feel free to 'dress' your character up in casual wear).
Biography: (A paragraph or two here - don't feel the need to add masses but a fair amount would be good).
Speciality: (Units will be formed of ranged, melee, tactical and engineering specialists).
The reserve unit was smaller than Henry would have liked; shrunken drastically by the number of wounded now unable to carry on the fight. With no more than a hundred mounted men he rode South towards the pillar of coloured smoke announcing the approach of the enemy. It would be some time before the necessary supplies and the wounded had been organised for an orderly retreat and Henry anticipated difficulty with nobles typically getting in the way to exercise unnecessary authority.
"Lord Henry, is this wise? We have barely five score men and we've all fought already today, the horses and men are tired." A few jeers showed what the more enthusiastic thought of this dire assessment but the majority stayed grimly silent, experienced and agreeing with him whom had voiced their concerns, Henry shared them but he also knew they had no other choice.
"We won't lure them into battle. Our task is just to slow them down, so avoid engagement which might slow us down. If anyone falls... they will have to be left behind." Henry was somewhat glad that he was riding with veterans who knew not to argue with such an order; he would not give it unless he had to and they all knew it.
Before long the dark smudge of a marching army appeared on the horizon. With a growing sense of dread Henry calculated the size of it as they picketed their horses in the shadow of a copse of trees, resting before the inevitable first clash of arms.
"This army is bigger than the other." One of his temporary aides commenting, staring through tunnels made by his hands to approximate the number of enemy troops. Henry grunted his reply, his hand itching to hold his sword and fight someone, to get rid of the anxiety that came before battle; especially one that was not winnable.
"Their cavalry outnumber us by eight to one. We need to keep the main body of their army between us and half of their cavalry while we draw the rest off." Henry mused, noting the orderly lines of cavalry trotting along easily on either side of the main line of infantry. He gave the order and they mounted up and prepared for combat.
"Lord Henry, is this wise? We have barely five score men and we've all fought already today, the horses and men are tired." A few jeers showed what the more enthusiastic thought of this dire assessment but the majority stayed grimly silent, experienced and agreeing with him whom had voiced their concerns, Henry shared them but he also knew they had no other choice.
"We won't lure them into battle. Our task is just to slow them down, so avoid engagement which might slow us down. If anyone falls... they will have to be left behind." Henry was somewhat glad that he was riding with veterans who knew not to argue with such an order; he would not give it unless he had to and they all knew it.
Before long the dark smudge of a marching army appeared on the horizon. With a growing sense of dread Henry calculated the size of it as they picketed their horses in the shadow of a copse of trees, resting before the inevitable first clash of arms.
"This army is bigger than the other." One of his temporary aides commenting, staring through tunnels made by his hands to approximate the number of enemy troops. Henry grunted his reply, his hand itching to hold his sword and fight someone, to get rid of the anxiety that came before battle; especially one that was not winnable.
"Their cavalry outnumber us by eight to one. We need to keep the main body of their army between us and half of their cavalry while we draw the rest off." Henry mused, noting the orderly lines of cavalry trotting along easily on either side of the main line of infantry. He gave the order and they mounted up and prepared for combat.
They did attack fairly early on in the day so we could simply have the group having passed the time for longer than they thought?
If you take out the bit about Gwen leaving there isn't a continuity error so ignore that bit for now.
Rhiannon nodded, accepting the kind words directed towards her although she was keenly aware of the discomfort her presence brought about due to the ambiguity of the spirit's morality.
"The... spirit has never been malicious." She tried to assure them. "In fact it has only... acted to help others. But the Father said it was a malignant spirit and that it must be cleaned. He would only speak if God had told him it was so and this Pilgrimage was a way of redemption for whatever sin I committed to bring it upon me." The young girl had returned to her penitential apologising, head bowed so that the spirit would not attack any of those around her. She had, however, noticed the large man's accent and placed it after some difficulty and a flare of fear rose in her; too long had she had to run from his kind.
"I... I believe it is normal for us to protect ourselves when so much hatred is directed towards those of our faith at this time." Rhiannon spoke towards the dragon, not accusingly but with a certain amount of self-defence. She was not, however, going to reveal the dagger hidden under her robes just to show solidarity with the two men.
"If we are not careful we may all be taken in by the guard. They've already begun to execute brawlers and thieves regardless of their faith and it would be wise for us not to look so close to violence."
"The... spirit has never been malicious." She tried to assure them. "In fact it has only... acted to help others. But the Father said it was a malignant spirit and that it must be cleaned. He would only speak if God had told him it was so and this Pilgrimage was a way of redemption for whatever sin I committed to bring it upon me." The young girl had returned to her penitential apologising, head bowed so that the spirit would not attack any of those around her. She had, however, noticed the large man's accent and placed it after some difficulty and a flare of fear rose in her; too long had she had to run from his kind.
"I... I believe it is normal for us to protect ourselves when so much hatred is directed towards those of our faith at this time." Rhiannon spoke towards the dragon, not accusingly but with a certain amount of self-defence. She was not, however, going to reveal the dagger hidden under her robes just to show solidarity with the two men.
"If we are not careful we may all be taken in by the guard. They've already begun to execute brawlers and thieves regardless of their faith and it would be wise for us not to look so close to violence."
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