Im giggling at the ideas of what the glowing green crystal is. Does it deal con damage to humanoid aberrations? Does it cause effects to reproductive organs if left in a loincloth too long? Is it nothing more than glowing guano from a demonic bat?
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10 yrs ago
Current
Been sick last 4 days.
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10 yrs ago
Laptop's wireless is fried, need to take to shop, using friends tablet for now.
10 yrs ago
Cannot post for up to the next 7 days.
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10 yrs ago
BUSY weekend for me, Reno today then valentines weekend.
11 yrs ago
At hospital for the night, no postings.
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Lob was worried, three days of tracking jasmine and... that was all. No other horses, no other campfires, no other people to blend the scent. He had never tracked a smell like this for so long without it breaking or mingling with others. Time distance and weather didn't even seem to effect the strength of the scent.
"Alpha smell, magic smell."
He tracked by day, slept by night, over the next three he found himself sleeping closer and closer to the dwarf, using the hedgehog as a pillow more than once after draping his hide armor over her as a blanket then curling up beside her. He still kept the glowing crystal in his loincloth with whatever bits of food he was foraging for the others.
Part of him worried how many cubs were dying because of this search for the alpha, three days with no other parts for the sickness. Not even a gnoll bandit, a scent he knew too well as he rubbed his scarred forehead. Oddly, as the scent of salt passed his nose, he started getting an idea as he pulled out the paper of ingredients. He held up the apothecary notes with two of five scratched out. This was a big place with a lot of traders, surely someone had to have what they needed.
"Let's get something to eat, to drink and settled in. Any takers?"
"Food, yes. Bed, yes. Buy parts?"
"Alpha smell, magic smell."
He tracked by day, slept by night, over the next three he found himself sleeping closer and closer to the dwarf, using the hedgehog as a pillow more than once after draping his hide armor over her as a blanket then curling up beside her. He still kept the glowing crystal in his loincloth with whatever bits of food he was foraging for the others.
Part of him worried how many cubs were dying because of this search for the alpha, three days with no other parts for the sickness. Not even a gnoll bandit, a scent he knew too well as he rubbed his scarred forehead. Oddly, as the scent of salt passed his nose, he started getting an idea as he pulled out the paper of ingredients. He held up the apothecary notes with two of five scratched out. This was a big place with a lot of traders, surely someone had to have what they needed.
"Let's get something to eat, to drink and settled in. Any takers?"
"Food, yes. Bed, yes. Buy parts?"
In
The Horde of Evil - Tresspassing through treacherous tribes' territory! (RP closed)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by BBeast>
Well, I'm pretty busy nowadays but not to the point of being unable to post.
Really what it comes down to is that I'm starting to give up on this RP. The rate of posting has slowed drastically and despite having something like 20 people show up in the interest check, we probably have only 5 or 6 fairly active people left.
So everybody, I'd like to gauge how many we still have left, and what the general attitude is.
I can see a couple of options:
1) We give up on this RP and let it die. Maybe we could start yet another Dungeon Keeper RP like this was inspired from if there's interest in that. For those of you who weren't there, this RP was a spinoff of a series where every player was a Keeper who had their own army, with the GMs controlling the humans and neutral factions.
2) We restart the RP. Same concept and all, but just a fresh start to hopefully get some new people to join.
3) We keep going. Honestly I think that The Horde of Evil is already half-dead, but maybe I'm just being pessimistic and we still have a fair few people around who just don't know what to post. In any case, as GM I'm willing to continue as long as the rest of you are.
Any thoughts regarding all of this would be appreciated.
I'd like to see how this ends.
*PAF! Pa-paf, pa-p-paf. PA-PAF-PAF!*
It had been a while since Midas had he chance to glove up and he was taking it. He'd been up since four as he usually would be on any day a the circus circuit getting things ready for he day, so insomnia had prompted him to the gym where he had the first long scrub in a while and set to working the bag. Lacking any real gloves, he wrapped his hands in a pair of dirty shirts to use impromptu while he pounded away.
He had taken a moment to make sure he was using %100 cotton shirts so he didn't accidentally give himself a case of 'golden gloves' while he pounded away at the heavy bag. He remembered once where that had been the case, a pair of solid nylon skigloves suddenly shifted and grew ten times heavier as he hit a guy hard enough to shatter his jaw. He left the gloves as payment for the medical bill and got the hell out of there.
Once he was worked up to a good and heavy froth, he came back down his workout and hit the showers again. He took the opportunity to wash his clothes in the same stream from the showerhead as the rest of him to get a layer of filth off it all as the water ran dingy gray. He finally emerged from the gym to the main room spelling of lavender oil with sandalwood emanating from his rucksack.
"uuuhhh....Hi... My name is Midas and its been six days since my last abuse."
Five guys plus him versus one girl, poor thing. He looked around at everyone before taking a seat and rummaging through his pack for something before coming out with a small bottle of everclear. He burned through calories so fast that alcohol was one of the few things that had enough per ounce to keep up with him besides avocados, then it was time for nachos and tequila. He drank from his 'waterbottle' and waited for the round robin of names.
It had been a while since Midas had he chance to glove up and he was taking it. He'd been up since four as he usually would be on any day a the circus circuit getting things ready for he day, so insomnia had prompted him to the gym where he had the first long scrub in a while and set to working the bag. Lacking any real gloves, he wrapped his hands in a pair of dirty shirts to use impromptu while he pounded away.
He had taken a moment to make sure he was using %100 cotton shirts so he didn't accidentally give himself a case of 'golden gloves' while he pounded away at the heavy bag. He remembered once where that had been the case, a pair of solid nylon skigloves suddenly shifted and grew ten times heavier as he hit a guy hard enough to shatter his jaw. He left the gloves as payment for the medical bill and got the hell out of there.
Once he was worked up to a good and heavy froth, he came back down his workout and hit the showers again. He took the opportunity to wash his clothes in the same stream from the showerhead as the rest of him to get a layer of filth off it all as the water ran dingy gray. He finally emerged from the gym to the main room spelling of lavender oil with sandalwood emanating from his rucksack.
"uuuhhh....Hi... My name is Midas and its been six days since my last abuse."
Five guys plus him versus one girl, poor thing. He looked around at everyone before taking a seat and rummaging through his pack for something before coming out with a small bottle of everclear. He burned through calories so fast that alcohol was one of the few things that had enough per ounce to keep up with him besides avocados, then it was time for nachos and tequila. He drank from his 'waterbottle' and waited for the round robin of names.
Name:
Mikha'el Maksimov
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
6'6" 200, long and lanky, string-bean, he's heard it all. His main outstanding feature are his golden eyes and big ears.
He dresses in t-shirts and jeans, costing anywhere from fifty cents to fifty bucks.
Personality:
Generous to a fault, too trusting even after everything has been said and done.
History: What happened after the war, up to enrollment at Primas. "The War" is not something reflected upon until later.
With a power like his, the answer is obvious. He would go to a thrift store or consignment shop, buy silver dirt cheep then sell it to someone else as gold. Day by day he made his fortune and sent about half of it eating his way through buckets of chicken. Still, hundred dollars a day for ten years is a fine way to make a living.
When things got too suspicious for all his acquired riches, he'd move to another town. He fund it often easier racking around with carne folk who don't ask questions and do like gold. So on and so forth a decade passed as a vagabond Rumpelstiltskin until the call came for him to return.
Abilities: The midas touch, he can realign any inorganic chemical compound to gold. Anything closer to gold on the periodic table is easier like silver or mercury. The atomic expenditure is rather harsh, requiring him to consume nearly ten times the average person (20,000 calories) in order to keep himself healthy. Not just speedsters need to eat like a horse.
Belongings:
2000 VW bug, ugly as hell cover, bleeding edge under the hood and GTFO tires. Acoustc guitar, to pluck on the lonely nights. $50-5000 in clothes, hard to say but he knows he has 10 outfits he can mix and match.
Mikha'el Maksimov
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
6'6" 200, long and lanky, string-bean, he's heard it all. His main outstanding feature are his golden eyes and big ears.
He dresses in t-shirts and jeans, costing anywhere from fifty cents to fifty bucks.
Personality:
Generous to a fault, too trusting even after everything has been said and done.
History: What happened after the war, up to enrollment at Primas. "The War" is not something reflected upon until later.
With a power like his, the answer is obvious. He would go to a thrift store or consignment shop, buy silver dirt cheep then sell it to someone else as gold. Day by day he made his fortune and sent about half of it eating his way through buckets of chicken. Still, hundred dollars a day for ten years is a fine way to make a living.
When things got too suspicious for all his acquired riches, he'd move to another town. He fund it often easier racking around with carne folk who don't ask questions and do like gold. So on and so forth a decade passed as a vagabond Rumpelstiltskin until the call came for him to return.
Abilities: The midas touch, he can realign any inorganic chemical compound to gold. Anything closer to gold on the periodic table is easier like silver or mercury. The atomic expenditure is rather harsh, requiring him to consume nearly ten times the average person (20,000 calories) in order to keep himself healthy. Not just speedsters need to eat like a horse.
Belongings:
2000 VW bug, ugly as hell cover, bleeding edge under the hood and GTFO tires. Acoustc guitar, to pluck on the lonely nights. $50-5000 in clothes, hard to say but he knows he has 10 outfits he can mix and match.
.
"So, what are you in for?" A common prisoners way to break the tension he found fitting by the summons and imprisonment on the lavish waiting room. A cage is a cage and he wished to spread his wings.
Eine was finishing one of his meals for the day while waiting to be admitted. Nothing more than a handful of nuts, berries and slips of jerked squirrel to be washed with a wineskin. He had already played his panpipes, had some food, now he was just bored. He had been warned that drawing a weapon, even to sharpen or shave an apple, would be bad form at minimum. He offered the blackberry brew to anyone else willing to swig the sweet sangria as he longed for the real outsides.
No shade of the forests, no hip high hay to wade through, no knee deep muck to tromp over. The only redeeming quality of the city was the animals: The rats of the sewers, the dogs of the alleys, the horses in the streets, cats in the windows and the birds on the roofs. Not to mention the insignificant ants walking around on two legs.
That last one made him chuckle as he imagined itty-bitty outfits on ants going in and out of a hill Just as the summons were announced. He retained enough formality to stand and dust himself off before taking back the wineskin if anyone imbibed. Time to see what the ant queen wanted with a ranger and whatever these others were.
Eine was finishing one of his meals for the day while waiting to be admitted. Nothing more than a handful of nuts, berries and slips of jerked squirrel to be washed with a wineskin. He had already played his panpipes, had some food, now he was just bored. He had been warned that drawing a weapon, even to sharpen or shave an apple, would be bad form at minimum. He offered the blackberry brew to anyone else willing to swig the sweet sangria as he longed for the real outsides.
No shade of the forests, no hip high hay to wade through, no knee deep muck to tromp over. The only redeeming quality of the city was the animals: The rats of the sewers, the dogs of the alleys, the horses in the streets, cats in the windows and the birds on the roofs. Not to mention the insignificant ants walking around on two legs.
That last one made him chuckle as he imagined itty-bitty outfits on ants going in and out of a hill Just as the summons were announced. He retained enough formality to stand and dust himself off before taking back the wineskin if anyone imbibed. Time to see what the ant queen wanted with a ranger and whatever these others were.
Name: Gideon "Goose" Down
Age: 35
Position: Mechanic
Appearance/Clothing:
5'6" 120 Lbs hard lean from not enough meals. Stays totally bald to keep the gunk off.
Skills:
Mechanic first, so-so Air pilot to test out what he works on. "No sense keeping a horse you can't ride."
Excellent terrain driver, "His demon comes out with the earth under his feet instead of the air under his arms."
Bit of a scrapper, mostly first hits and underhanded tactics "You try fighting fair with eight siblings."
Juggler. Something to pass the time and the source of his nickname. "Some people juggle geese!"
Crimes Against The Alliance:
Former browncoat,
Found in possession of alliance materials (ship supplies and other military grade equipment),
Known family member to alliance terrorist organization 棕影 Zōng yǐng (brown shadow)
Over 200 speeding tickets
Additional Information:
Weapons:
His favorite tool, hanging on a hook off his hip and kept in a buckled of mild solvent to remove any evidence after a scuffle.
When shit hits the fan, he blows the fan away. He added some extra ammo. 7+7+1 with 33 extra ammunition. If ANYTHING ever needs 48 rounds, its game over already. He has never needed a more powerful gun, but he will never run out of ammo...again.
Possessions:
Crotch rocket
Personality:
Adrenaline junkie and motor-head. He travels to see the world, and all the other worlds. He speaks simple and lots of old ways color his mind but he is coming around...Slowly. He has become more worldly about the verse, but old things still cling to him as wrong.
History:
Middle child of 9 in Jiangyin hills, he has four older siblings and four younger. He was the family gearhead, starting with things like fixing a can-opener, he worked his way up through the family farm equipment, then the neighbors in exchange for anything they needed. After a few years he was able to set up shop in actual town and not just word of mouth, but family came first, as always.
He was getting to be the 'worldly' one with a chance to even take his skill from the town to the big city! Then the war happened and he wasn't on the popular side. He didn't fight on the front line, his family of hillfolk were the smugglers who ran supplies all over the planet while he kept their gunrunners in the air.
His family got scattered in the war, he knows that some have to have died but some are alive and he pops from place to place looking for kin. So far he's got a list he's been checking off.
Mom: Abigail Fitz: Waitress-Reforming miranda
Dad: Barnabas Down: 66 Farmer-Jiangyin
1 M Caesar Dominique: 41 Companion-Ariel
2 F Deborah 39 Wanted for murder
3 F Eve 39 -Unknown
4 M Fortunatus 36 Dead
5 M Gideon Mechanic-35-his bunk
6 F Hogla 33 Niska enforcer, Ezra (call her 'hog' Or 'ho'; I. Dare. You.)
7 M Iziah 29 Preacher-Aberdeen
8 F Jael 25 Alliance officer.
9 M Keros 20 -Unknown
Age: 35
Position: Mechanic
Appearance/Clothing:
5'6" 120 Lbs hard lean from not enough meals. Stays totally bald to keep the gunk off.
Skills:
Mechanic first, so-so Air pilot to test out what he works on. "No sense keeping a horse you can't ride."
Excellent terrain driver, "His demon comes out with the earth under his feet instead of the air under his arms."
Bit of a scrapper, mostly first hits and underhanded tactics "You try fighting fair with eight siblings."
Juggler. Something to pass the time and the source of his nickname. "Some people juggle geese!"
Crimes Against The Alliance:
Former browncoat,
Found in possession of alliance materials (ship supplies and other military grade equipment),
Known family member to alliance terrorist organization 棕影 Zōng yǐng (brown shadow)
Over 200 speeding tickets
Additional Information:
Weapons:
His favorite tool, hanging on a hook off his hip and kept in a buckled of mild solvent to remove any evidence after a scuffle.
When shit hits the fan, he blows the fan away. He added some extra ammo. 7+7+1 with 33 extra ammunition. If ANYTHING ever needs 48 rounds, its game over already. He has never needed a more powerful gun, but he will never run out of ammo...again.
Possessions:
Crotch rocket
Personality:
Adrenaline junkie and motor-head. He travels to see the world, and all the other worlds. He speaks simple and lots of old ways color his mind but he is coming around...Slowly. He has become more worldly about the verse, but old things still cling to him as wrong.
History:
Middle child of 9 in Jiangyin hills, he has four older siblings and four younger. He was the family gearhead, starting with things like fixing a can-opener, he worked his way up through the family farm equipment, then the neighbors in exchange for anything they needed. After a few years he was able to set up shop in actual town and not just word of mouth, but family came first, as always.
He was getting to be the 'worldly' one with a chance to even take his skill from the town to the big city! Then the war happened and he wasn't on the popular side. He didn't fight on the front line, his family of hillfolk were the smugglers who ran supplies all over the planet while he kept their gunrunners in the air.
His family got scattered in the war, he knows that some have to have died but some are alive and he pops from place to place looking for kin. So far he's got a list he's been checking off.
Mom: Abigail Fitz: Waitress-Reforming miranda
Dad: Barnabas Down: 66 Farmer-Jiangyin
1 M Caesar Dominique: 41 Companion-Ariel
2 F Deborah 39 Wanted for murder
3 F Eve 39 -Unknown
4 M Fortunatus 36 Dead
5 M Gideon Mechanic-35-his bunk
6 F Hogla 33 Niska enforcer, Ezra (call her 'hog' Or 'ho'; I. Dare. You.)
7 M Iziah 29 Preacher-Aberdeen
8 F Jael 25 Alliance officer.
9 M Keros 20 -Unknown
@Afina
I'm still knocked out cold, and I need someone to throw cold water on me to fight that KOcold with H20cold
Just don't kiss him. ;)
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