Recent Statuses

14 days ago
Current Xin nian kuai le! Happy Lunar New Year everyone!
25 days ago
Why the FUCK do people ask for RPs by making an interest check, and then NOT REPLY WHEN YOU MESSAGE THEM ARGH. On a VERY RELATED note, if anyone is interested in 1x1s, feel free to drop me a line.
1 mo ago
Roleplay man, roleplay man, does whatever a roleplay can. Does he write? Not at all. He brings plots to a stall, look out... He’s a fucking ghost.
2 mos ago
Another year, another RP Guild anniversary! Loved RPing with all of you, and here’s to many more stories with all of you!
2 mos ago
Re-reading your old writing is such a cringe inducing experience, and yet I can't stop looking at how badly I fucked it up.


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Most Recent Posts

Salute! Still here and still waiting. I want lightning hands.
The noises made her heart sink, but she wasn't a woman that could confront an attacker head on. Nervously, she dialled 911 and explained the situation, before pressing herself against a wall and nervously shuffling herself towards the origin of the noise. Without really realising it parts of herself had turned invisible- her hands now a barely-perceptible milky stain in the air, the young woman intentionally turning her head invisible as she finally got to the mouth of the alleyway.

Swallowing, she would peek her almost entirely concealed head out- the only sign that there was indeed a person looking being a mysteriously floating set of glasses in the air. What exactly she would see she wasn't sure, but she doubted it would be a good scene...

@Old Amsterdam

Dancing queen... Young and sweet only seventeen... She turned off the song and looked at everyone. "Alright folks, call me Valkyrie. I'm a marksman and a long-range medic. Take one of these, put them as close to your centre of mass as you possibly can." The sniper would reach into a pocket and pull out a velcro-secured wallet, handing out the RFID chips that would set her darts to non-lethal. "Also, those chips will mark when you get healed. Payment should be given promptly- if you don't want to pay, I will remind you that I have lethal nanobots in your bloodstream." She let out a 'comforting' smile, and once they were all handed out she would tuck the wallet back into her pocket.

A few more minutes (and the rest of Dancing Queen) later, the woman with the clipboard would come back around and address the lot of them. "Well then folks. Let's load into the chopper please." She would guide the way to where the squat thing sat, urging the mercenaries to load in before doing so herself. The agent would then hand out a number of earpieces, taking a larger headset out for herself and fitting it over. "Testing, testing," would crackle through the transport hold. "Excellent. Slide those doors closed and we'll be taking off shortly." Once the doors were locked up, she would continue. "Pale Horse operatives are launching an attack on a secure location. The deal here is simple. In order to access any of our secure locations they will need to get through the blast-proof doors. There are a very limited number of ways to get through, the exact one we can't yet be sure of, but do not, I repeat, DO NOT let them get through those doors. If they do... Well, you'll receive further instructions depending on the site. Any questions?"

The same rough voice that gave the transmission would crackle out from a hidden speaker in the car park. "'Ello there mercenaries. My name is Quartermaster- QM if your brain cells can't remember such a long word, and I'll be your liaison. At the moment, a vehicle is driving itself to the front of the building. Inside that vehicle are several pounds of thermite, with an adhesive- sticky to you folks surface on one side." The rumbling of a large-sounding truck could be heard from out of the parking lot.

"The secure facility we want to bust into is protected by a blast proof door. Thankfully for us, blast-proof don't mean thermite proof. Once you've got it stuck, pull the little blue tab and it'll self-ignite and start to burn through the door. You need to put it on the locks. I'll repeat that. Put the burny sticky thing on the lock. Now, this stuff takes time to work, and someone could theoretically dislodge it- that means knock it off by the way, so you have to make sure it doesn't get knocked off." There was a pause.

"Once that's done, you need to get through two stories of reinforced offices, likely dealing with a number of enemy mercenaries and defensive staff, and get access to their servers. You need to physically remove three of their servers and take them with you out of the building and out the back- the Thames is there. Chuck them to a boat and fight your way out. Any questions?"


Charlie looked down at the blender, and then hit it one more time for good luck.


Alright, that was longer than she had meant to do it. Removing the lid, she would pour the entire thing out into a pint glass, then collapsed down onto her sofa. She looked down at the slightly white-coloured gloop in her hands, then placed the glass down and sighed. She was exhausted. Physically, mentally, whatever you wanted to call it. She needed to go to her lessons, but at the same time would a day off be that bad? She considered it as she took the first sip of her smoothie, idly reflecting that it was pretty thick considering how much she had buzzed it.

Bleh. Whatever, she would drink it anyhow. After that she would return to her blender, sticking the blender-y thing (yes, she had a very good grasp on the English language,) underneath the sink, letting it fill up and overspill as she made herself instant coffee. Drinking it black and with no sugar, she felt her entire body cringe, now feeling thoroughly awake.

Time to go to class. She had taken to wearing her 'superhero' clothes underneath her own (if lingerie could really be call superhero clothes,) since it allowed her to put her overclothes into her bag and go invisible if she really needed to, before slipping into her normal clothes and finally finishing with the washing up. Sighing at her empty room, she turned and walked out, shoulders already aching as she trod the same roads she trod everyday.
Despite what it may seem, the staff is not just for whacking.

A series of sharp raps came from the outside of the bar. Then, the door would be pushed open, a handsome looking man moving in. He wore a thick jacket, the hood of which came down and concealed his eyes, but beyond that it was hard to deny that he was certainly easy on the eyes. Solid musculature, what little could be seen of the bottom of his face offered a tastefully bearded chiselled jaw, and he looked to have missed out on the memo regarding drugs and a lack of sunlight that plagued so many of those who were stuck in a hive world.

The man barely made an attempt to hide that he was packing. A las-pistol, the serial number conspicuously absent and having been replaced by the telltale scrape-marks of a sander hung at his hip, and although the long staff that he carried didn't look immediately lethal, there must be a reason that the ends were shod in metal. Clacking his way towards the bar, he would place the staff down carefully, keeping his head down as he scooted atop the stool that was placed there.

The bear of a man next to him was a curious 'sight' indeed. He wondered if he had come for the job much like he had... Hm, it really was up in the air. On the one hand there was the fact that this was a fairly common bar for workmen too bad at managing their money to afford to go elsewhere to turn up, but on the other hand the man looked like he could crush a head with a clap of his hands around their head.

Nonetheless, the man would reach into the wide jacket he wore and retrieve a wallet, taking out a bill and placing it down onto the surface in front of him. "Glory to the God-Emperor, may his light continue to shine for a hundred eternities. Amasec, if you wouldn't mind. Something pleasant- that doesn't run the risk of blinding me." He doubted such a thing could even be found in Malcador's Scrotum (a name that reeked of one who didn't believe in the glory of the Emperor enough,) but nonetheless, he would attempt to secure something at least vaguely palatable.

Hyped to get going!
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