Avatar of Kingfisher

Status

Recent Statuses

9 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
9 yrs ago
Thank the lord for the Roleplay Guild. Otherwise I might actually have to pay attention in lectures
3 likes
9 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
10 yrs ago
You shot Church, you team killing fucktard!
3 likes
10 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

Name/Nicknames: Henning Maddirish/ Henning the Grim

Race: Undead

Age: 796

Appearance:



A slender, dark-haired man, Henning has gaunt features, and slim sunken eyes. A few days’ worth of stubble covers his narrow chin, and his deathly flesh has an aura of the necrotic about it. He is well-groomed and carries himself proudly, with a straight back and firm stance. There is an air of regality to the Lithuanian, and he has a voice which bears a light Eastern European accent.

Personality: Henning is a calm, calculating figure, with cruel efficiency and a dark witt. He has long ago cast off the shackles of a conscience, and is prepared to take any measure to achieve his objective. While he takes no pleasure in torturing others, Henning has no objections to commuting countless acts of, what he would consider to be, Necessary Evil in order to come out victorious in the end.

Bio: Born Hanigaris of the House Mindaugas, Henning Maddirish was the Grand Duke of Lithuania for a decade during the 1200’s. A stern and black-hearted ruler, Hanigaris was unsympathetic and iron fisted in his governing of the Grand Duchy, inspiring fear in both his enemies and subjects alike.

Consorting with a cabal of powerful yet mysterious foreigners, Henning began studying Necromancy under the dark gaze of the Pale Circle, which unlocked his immense arcane potential, and thorough understanding of the forbidden magic.

It was his ruthless efficiency that helped repel the Mongol Invaders from his homeland, but it was that same brutality which planted him on the end of an assassin’s blade just ten years into his reign.

Henning awoke sometime later, his body having been preserved in a state of undeath by his own dark powers, making him in to a potent Lich. It was not long into his resurrection that Henning drew the attention of the Pale Circle, who forcibly whisked him away to their hidden strong hold, seeking to use his powers for their own gains.

Whilst he initially resisted their dominion, Henning saw that there was power to be gained in working with the Pale Circle, and began his training as one of their field agents. Adopting a new persona, and casting off his old life, Henning has spent countless years working for the necromantic order, slowly climbing up its dark and dangerous hierarchy. Henning holds great sway within the circle, and its current masters have grown fearful that he might attempt a takeover any day now.

Wanting to get Henning as far away as possible, the Grand Council of the Pale Circle have dispatched the Henning on a suicide mission to Santa Somabra, to destroy their wayward former servant: The Canoness. The Pale Circle do not expect Henning to survive, and he intends to prove them wrong.

Other: Henning is a Lich, and as such possesses potent necromantic powers. He can raise the dead, and force wayward souls to do his bidding.


BANG!


A silver bullet burst forth from one of the surrounding skyscrapers, ripping through the air and tearing towards Ameilkas. A ripple of searing pain shrieked through her body, snapping and cracking at her senses, as the projectile tore through her shoulder, erupting in a sickly smattering of dark blood, painted black in the moonlight.

The She-wolf gritted her teeth, letting out a guttural snarl as gore trickled over her fur, staining her white pelt red.

All around her, the pack let out a booming wail, frothing viciously at the mouth as their eyes snapped up to the great glass skyscraper.

Ameilkas sniffed at the air, catching a strong whiff of feral scent on the nigh time wind.

She let out a strained grin “At least –THIS- outcast has made something of himself.” she laughed.

The Den-Mother craned her neck, turning to address her brothers and sisters.

“So the little lost lamb has come wading blindly into the stream of blood?!” She bellowed “Run with me now, my fellow hunters! Let us show this city-rat why sheep do not play with wolves!”

A collective howl of bloodlust shook through the pack, and then they were bolting across the courtyard, stomping over smashed cars and over-turned rubbish tips, ripping through the night with monstrous speed.

They bounded up the towering expanse of the skyscraper, working their way up winding staircases and empty elevator shafts, leaping from floor to floor with untamed ferocity. Ameilkas stooped to take a whiff of the polluted air. The pup is close.

“Rejoice!” She called out to her unseen prey "The Den Mother has come to speed you on to the long sleep. You will be rid of your troubles soon.”

The Fourth floor was near. It would not be long until they were upon their attackers.
@Flagg You're hired, welcome aboard. :)

@KingfisherIt's terrible! Nah, I jest, I love it. Welcome aboard, Kingfisher.

@Lone Wanderer@PripovednikThank both; what is put in your CS now is really so that we know more for later. I like both your character's, and with a couple of tweaks I reckon we'll be good to G.O.


Many thanks! I can't wait to get going with this.
@Kingfisher What an outlandish character. I love it.


I'm very glad that you do. I'm hoping that Nisvilia makes the cut, and that I get the opportunity to be equally outlandish amidst this increasingly awesome looking crew.

@Kingfisher You just happen to pop up in threads I monitor, huh

Interest here. I was in a Dark Heresy roleplay before this, I think I might be alright here.


The oracles of the space time continuum once blessed me with omnivision in return for my mortal soul. I watch you always, especially whilst you're in the shower.

I dunno, I guess we have similar interests.

@Jbcool @Hank Hope you both find my CS to be acceptable!



This looks mighty interesting, and I have a few character ideas circulating about in my head. Quick question; How far are our characters allowed to operate outside of imperial law? For instance, would a smuggler be acceptable or were you looking for more imperium-aligned characters?
@leoradrew so how long till we start?


Seconding. Kind've hoping we can get started soon.
Suspect 4




Janette considered this for a moment. She wasn’t comfortable in these sorts of situations, surrounded by a group of strangers, but the severity of what was unfolding was ripe in her mind, and it wasn’t exactly like you got called down to the Police Station every day.

Clearing her throat loudly, Janette composed herself before asking…

“Why exactly are we all here? I mean, the email mentioned something about kidnappings, but why –US- specifically? I can’t imagine we’ve got much in common.”
nice!!! now we have a terminator on the loose xD


Hope y'all are ready to ruuuuuumble!


A bustling crowd of bodies stood huddled together in Park Square, the roaring murmur of conversation blazing in the air. Tall white buildings, cracked and devastated by the Nuclear Warheads which had fallen over 200 years ago, ran around the heard like some titanic fence of concrete and glass, dotting the dilapidated landscape.

A makeshift wooden stage had been erected around an old lamppost, and it was there that the crowd's attention was fixed. A tall, lean man in a crisp black suit stood upon the platform, flanked by two seemingly human Android guards in sleek body armour, clutching assault rifles. Between the trio, a hempen rope tied loosely around her neck and fastened to the rickety lamppost, stood Harriet Byron, known to most as 'Bloody Harriet', her closely-cropped blue curls tumbling down around her shoulders.

The man in the suit raised his hand for silence, and a tide of quiet swept through the crowd almost instantly.

"Before you," he bellowed, his voice echoing out in to the surrounding streets "stands the individual who is responsible for spreading so much misery and devastation throughout our sealed community."

The crowd's collective gaze was fixed upon Bloody Harriet, who looked entirely indifferent about the whole situation, her lithe shoulders relaxed and slopping casually.

"The Commonwealth is a land stricken by turmoil and strife," Doctor Edmund Wallace continued, adjusting his flimsy glass spectacles "and it is because of people such as -HER-" the Doctor cast one accusing hand shakily at Harriet "that the people of Massachusetts continue to live in fear, unable to rebuild their shattered lives!"

The two Androids moved forwards in militaristic unison, seizing Harriet tightly by each arm.

"The end of this woman's life marks the closing of another terrible chapter in our blackened history, and a chance at moving on, and building something worthy of envy amidst the ruins of this once great nation!"

A calm mutter of approval rose up from the crowd, rippling from person to person.

Wallace composed himself, striding confidently over to Harriet, his smart black shoes clicking lightly on the wooden stage beneath him.

"D'you have any finale words?" He asked calmly.

Harriet slowly raised her gentle head, locking eyes with Doctor Wallace, and letting her voice ring out across the square.

"Does your wife know?"

A babble of confused chatter flowed through the heard, and Doctor Wallace made some uncomfortable stammering, his cheeks flushing dark red.

"Put an end to her." He spluttered, nodding vigorously at the Androids.

The two soldiers gave Harriet a sharp shove, and she went tumbling down off of the stage, wretched upwards in the air by the noose around her neck, her feet dangling wildly above the ground.

*


The immense glass table at the centre of the vast room shone brightly, polished to a zealous glistening. The Board of Project Revenant sat calmly in their lush leather seats, awaiting the arrival of the Project Director.

Chairman Fell stepped in to the room a few moments later, his arrival prophesised by the clattering of his footsteps in the corridors beyond. At the Chairman's heel was a woman with the face of Harriet Byron, her slender body clad in Pre-war business attire which had been scavenged from the ruins of Boston.

"Its true then," Doctor Marston observed dryly "Subject 52 was a succes."

"Despite all of his alleged expertise, Doctor Wallace was incapable of living up to expectations in regards to the Revenant Project." Fell announced to the room "His untimely suicide ultimately laid the foundations for my takeover, and our glorious succes."

"To the memory of Doctor Wallace, then." Doctor Selmy said half-sarcastically, raising his water glass above his head.

"Gentlemen," Chairman Fell continued "I present to you...Synthetia 52."

All eyes fell upon the Android, who stood calmly besides the Chairman, her mechanical eyes scanning the room.

"Good God, it looks just like Harriet Byron..." Doctor Sullivan, one of the oldest members of the board declared, horror ebbing away at his frail voice.

"I believe that was part of my design." Synthetia 52 spoke up, her voice cold and mocking.

"You couldn't stop her answering back then, huh Fell?" Doctor Marston sneered.

"Under Doctor Wallace's supervision, Synthetias one through to thirty nine were responsible for the deaths of seven of our scientists," Chairman Fell replied calmly "I'd say abit of sass is a fair substitute for having to scrub brain matter out of the floor tiles."

"How does she perform?" Doctor Sullivan asked.

"I wasn't designed for sexual encounters." Synthetia 52 smirked.

"I meant in c-combat..." Sullivan stammered, slightly put-off.

"Dear, don't pick on the good doctor, just because he's an easy target." Chairman Fell grinned, before addressing the room once more "Subject 52 has exceeded even my own expectations. Her efficiency in dispatching the volunteers was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I believe she's more than capable of being utilized to deal with the Washington problem."

"You're already proposing we deploy her?" Doctor Marston frowned "official procedure dictates at least another three months of testing."

"This 'Enclave' is more well-equipped than Doctor Zimmer led us to believe." Fell stated bluntly "If we are to expand our influence south, then we cannot delay any longer."

*

Synthetia 52 sat atop a clear white counter in one of the many underground laboratories which ran beneath the ruins of Boston, whilst one of the Institute engineers briefed her on her gear for the mission ahead.

"This," Paul Yelberton was saying "is what was colloquially known as a Shock Sword ."

Paul was holding a long, slender steel blade with an ornate golden handle. A small switch was attached to the weapon, and when Yelberton flicked it a pulsating current of brilliant blue energy crackled upwards across the blade. He flicked the switch once more, and the surge of power dispersed.

"One of the Chinese paratrooper units was deployed to Boston, way-back-when, right before the bombs fell. The Institute predates the Great War, and even then our technological expertise was legendary, so its no surprising that the squints wanted to get their hands on some of our gadgets," the engineer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, which Synthetia's neurological computer deduced as being a display of mild aspergers.

"Ironically, we ended up learning a few new tricks from them, which also leads on to your next piece of equipment..."

On a nearby table, a crisp white suit of body armour was stretched out. The suit had slick grey padding, and a series of wires and blinking lights criss-crossed its rubbery mass.

"This is something I'm rather proud of; modified Chinese Stealth Armour." He beamed "an improvement on the kind used by their Dragoons in the Sino-American war. When activated, the suit will make you completely invisible, and un-noticeable to the human eye, which is really fucking cool."

One of the hingeless steel doors at the far end of the lab slid open with a brilliant mechanical whirr, and a tall, slim figure in a hand-tailored grey suit stepped in to the room.

"Ah, Chairman Fell!" Paul Yelberton shot to his feet, standing to attention almost immediately.

"Good Afternoon, Paul." Fell smiled politely "Could you give Subject 52 and I the room?"

"Why, of course, sir!" He bleeped.

The engineer quickly went scurrying off, leaving Synthetia and Chairmen Fell alone.

"I apologies if Engineer Yelberton bored you, my dear." said Chairman Fell "He does tend to natter and babble."

Synthetia jumped down from the counter, standing upright "The information he supplied me with was useful, and he is clearly passionate about his work. If only he possessed any great skill in his field, then he would be a splendid asset to the Institute."

Chairman Fell looked her up and down with his slim emerald eyes, taking in her form in not-so-subtle gulps.

"You truly are remarkable..." He mused, fixing in on her.

"I've grown as tired of shallow and pointless compliments as Harriet had." The Android replied coldly.

Chairman Fell didn't skip a beat, gazing at her in fascination "You have access to her old thoughts, then?"

"I can feel her moving around in here," She said nonchalantly "like a second set of thoughts plastered to the back of my skull, or a voice perched on my shoulder."

"What does she ask you to do?"

"Things that my security protocols would prevent me from enacting."

Fell smirked ever-so-slightly "There's a lot riding on you, my dear. Show them all that my faith in you isn't misplaced."

*


The Vertibird touched down in the Capital Graveyard after a few solid days of travel, and Synthetia 52 was soon setting out across the desolate wasteland.

She watched a few raiders whisk by from her vantage point behind a particularly large rock, and saw a Yao Gui tear a merchant clean in two.

The sun was low in the grimy grey sky when a loud bleeping began echoing through her ears, signaling an incoming call to her head-piece.

"Subject 52," Chairman Fell's voice crackled over the radio "we've had confirmation of a downed Enclave transport, several clicks from your location. Make sure there are no survivors."
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet