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2 yrs ago
Happy 10th Anniversary, RolePlayer Guild! Its been one hell of a ride (Definitely didn't misspell that as "help" the first time, and have to re-post it)
4 likes
2 yrs ago
Thank the lord for the Roleplay Guild. Otherwise I might actually have to pay attention in lectures
3 likes
2 yrs ago
"Remember the times you could have pressed quit - but you hit continue" Hope everyone's having an alright day. If not, I hope things pick up for you
3 likes
3 yrs ago
You shot Church, you team killing fucktard!
3 likes
3 yrs ago
My sister saw me watching the Co-Optional Podcast and thought I was skyping my friends. How ridiculous! I don't have friends.
4 likes

Bio

The Dyslexia is strong with this one.

Most Recent Posts

Really excited to see what everyone else has planned for this!




@Not Fishing I'm totally flexible, so that works for me!
<Snipped quote by Kingfisher>

Very fast! I like the sheet, but I just want to clarify one point. Is her father meant to be the Lord Paramount of the Iron Isles and the head of House Greyjoy or just a part of the Greyjoy house? Mainly just as a reference for someone wishing to possibly play the Greyjoys.


I was thinking Lord Paramount when I wrote this, but upon reflection just a part of House Greyjoy might make it a bit less restrictive for whoever plays Greyjoy.

I'd be happy to work around whatever the Greyjoy player preferred.


FEAST YER EYES ON THIS!

What do we say to the god of ASOIAF House Rps?

I'll have my sheet up in a bit.


“Get him inside.” Aurora commanded one of the armour-clad figures, who promptly grabbed Dack by the scruff of his collar, and hurled him through the doorway, with augmented strength.

Dack slammed into the floor, his head thudding against the ground. His world became an explosion of bright white, his vision spinning madly. He felt as though someone had taken a hammer to his skull, as though his brain matter was leaking out through the freshly formed cracks in his cranium.

“Stand up, maggot.”

That same robotic hand hoisted him back up out of the dirt. He was powerless, a limp doll in the hands of his cyborg puppet master.

Aurora Baines gave a little wave at the dusty booths and tables which littered the inside of The Rusted Bitch.

“It's not exactly a fortress, but it will have to do,” she thought allowed, giving an empty beer bottle a frustrated kick with one booted foot “I don’t know who has orchestrated this clever little ambush, but they’ll be sorry they ever fucked with the Black Queen.”

The Brethren dumped Dack in an old booth, with a shotgun aimed squarely at his head, before they set about fortifying the old bar. Bits of debris were fastened over neglected door frames, whilst the rest of Aurora’s foot soldiers deployed whirring sentry guns, pointing them at the bar’s windows, and duel entrances.

Dack slumped, defeated and dejected. A crestfallen sigh slipped out of him.

“I’m sorry about your friends.”

Dack looked up, startled.

The figure pointing the shotgun at Dack had spoken, in a voice that was muffled by its featureless black helmet, made indistinct and genderless.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry about your friends,” the shotgun-wielder said again, in a quiet tone “that must have been a real knock for you.”

Dack nodded, lost for words.

“You’ll make it out of this, kid,” the figure promised “one day, one day soon, this will all be a wretched memory.”

“Aurora said she would kill me.” Dack muttered.

“Maybe,” the figure shrugged “or maybe she won’t. I don’t think she will.”

“What makes you say that.”

“I dunno, kid,” the figure replied “but if she does, you’re more than welcome to say I told you so.”

Dack laughed at that.

“You smoke?” black mask asked.

Dack nodded.

With a cybernetica hand still pointing the shotgun at Dack, the dark figure reached into one of the pouches on his belt, fishing out a silver tin. The figure slid the tin over to Dack, who pried it open, to reveal a line of cigarettes.

Dack slipped one into his mouth, and the microscopic, sensor activated, lighters inside the straight ignited, lighting the cigarette for him.

The young man took a gentle drag, feeling the nicotine high rush to his brain. He exhaled a plume of grey smoke, relaxing slightly.

“I promise you, kid,” the figure nodded “one day soon...this will all be a wretched memory.”


<Snipped quote by Atrophy>

Well I narrowed a few down, but I have the idea of a member of the sculptors who specifically targets criminals and other n'er-do-wells, like Dexter but cyberpunk. Bit darker then what I like to write but could work.

Failing that I had the idea of an offworlder trying to find out more about this disc on behalf of a swarming corporate entity on a distant moon, which is more standard but something I could have fun with.


Both of those fit the setting. Go with whichever you feel you'd enjoy the most :)
This sounds amazing! It also seems to have a bit of longevity which is always nice. Are you still open to new participants? I'll have a read to get updated with current events and try to get a character together!


We are indeed still accepting!

I'm working on a post, been slow going as I've been quite busy the last couple weeks.

I was wondering if someone might be willing to draft up a map?

Ghajotia has been the current epicenter of the action but I think we could all benefit from having a hard-set, agreed upon orientation to make it a little easier to visualize how the players are moving about / where their home bases are & what factions are butting up against others.


I'll aim to whip something up, tonight.

Had a strenuous couple of days at uni, but I'll catch up on the IC, and keep moving forwards.
Soooo am I free to get to work and set Cayne loose on Arcadia?


Yep, go nuts!
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