Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post.
1 yr ago
When you marathon Rick & Morty S2 and expected laughs but the ending just slaps you in the face...
1 yr ago
School's in full "consume all his time"-mode so no posts for just a lil longer. Sorry folks! I promise I'll make up for it in the weekend!
2 yrs ago
Going to take a small break on most of my RPs for maybe a week or so.
2 yrs ago
Not near an actual keyboard until 21/06


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Most Recent Posts

@Congee Really sorry to ask this but do the titles also apply to Euhijan? It's just that the nation seems more Asian inspired and I think they have other titles. Then again it might just be for simplicity sake. Anyway I just want to make sure I make my character using the right title.
In GODSPEED 7 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Agent 47 I think my CS is ready to be judged!
In GODSPEED 9 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
There was a little smirk on David's face. A proudful one. The human councilor hit all the right buttons, making most patriotic humans beam with pride. For during the Reaper War, it was Shepard who united the races. Not an Asari diplomate or a Turian war hero. No it was a human who accomplished it. And because of him, the war was won. After the speech, David joined in with the clapping. Which was soon cut short by the light failing. "Guys... what's happening?" he said through his voice comm, seeing if anyone had a clue. Darkening a room as filled as this one was basically asking for questions. Right after he possed his question, he heard the very audible sound of metal canisters hitting the ground and the hissing noise of gas pouring out. "Crap." he said to himself. He quickly put on his rebreather, after which he ducked into cover and opened his comm. Long range communication was jammed. It didn't matter, there was a protocol for this. He beamed the Emergency Protocol code through the classified channels. He couldn't see it, sadly. But he knew, the second that signal sent the Destiny Accession would come racing for the Presidium. "Emergency protocol has been activated. Get the council to the nearest bay! I'm going to assist the crowd control." David said through the security voice comms. Before jumped out of cover. Nebulous power formed over both of his arms, charging his biotic powers. Right in time some jet packing fool landed in front of David and took aim at him. Before the Turian knew it, he was flung against the wall with bone shattering force. A corpse landed right next to a pocket of dignitaries, protected by three C-Sec officers.

"You three! Move to the door! Form a perimeter. Keep the gas canisters and hostiles away." He wasn't entirely calm when he barked the orders. Though maybe that was why they did follow them. He then turned to the civilians. Some trying to get up and following the C-Sec officers towards the door. David was in his element, in the midst of combat with poor visibility. He even turned on the lights on his chest armor but the gas was obscuring most of his vision. The civilians though, they were not prepared for the confused screaming and the desperate gasping for breathable air. "Is anyone injured? Anyone injured?" he kept asking the civilians as he passed them. None looked incapacitated, luckily.

His visors gave him an inkling of where the hostiles and friendlies were. But through the gas, it was still not easy to tell. So he did what anyone would do and just ran straight into the cloud. Soon he reached another pocket of civilians. This time, they were unprotected. Before David could reach them, two Geth passed them. Though their crowd control felt a lot more like sirens going off. At least they killed the bad guys. David reached the group, crouching down with them behind cover. "Is anyone hurt?" He asked. One Krogan clutched his side. David could see the blood, but the Krogan caught him staring. "I'm fine." the giant lizard said with an elder gruff. "I ain't dying from some gut-shot in the Citadel." David just nodded and glanced at the others in the group. "This isn't good." the Krogan added. "Too many civs, too little guns and those canisters will kill us all if we stay here for much longer." Once again David nodded. Realizing this was no ordinary Krogan. "Listen, there's a perimeter being set up around the door. If you can, try to help force the damn door open." This time the Krogan nodded in agreement and got up. David took advantage of the moment and addressed the whole group, which were mostly human, Asari and Turian: "Follow this Krogan. If you're a biotic, trying to help with the door. If not, just stay in cover. We're getting out of here, okay. But we do it together." Slowly but surely the civilians began to trickle towards the door. Under the watchful eye of David. Though with every flash and explosion overhead, he got a little more nervous with every bang. "Snipers, be advised there are civilians moving on the ground. Be careful when you shoot a jet trooper." He said through the shared security channel.
Warlord of Kereg-Kor, Husband of Xaelia@Ellion and Nadia@Vesuvius00
Interacting with: His brides and Ineraz Evrenarth @SilverPaw
One guy got a little rowdy with the twins. He was just a tiny bit smaller. But certainly in the prime of his life. Maybe it was that youthful arrogance that fueled him. Never the less, he went straight for one of the twins and tried to beat him down. Only, the twin didn’t drop. He took the hit, square on his jaw. The group stopped, everyone jumped back in shock. For split second there was a sensible tension in the air. Like lightning was about to strike from a clear blue sky. But lightning didn’t strike. Instead, Histvich turned to face the one that attacked him. With a furiously scowl on his face. The guy tried to back up, but the tight pack behind him could barely open to let him pass. “Come here!” Histvich yelled as he jumped into the group, hunting him down like some animal. Some fell to the ground. Others into another. “Histvich!” yelled his twin in caution. But he was already gone, hunting his assailant. Before him though, more fists were thrown in anger. “This is going to be a riot.”

Keregar stepped up to his son and put a hand on his shoulder as he saw the violence spark. “Good. It’s been a while.” He said. Herstvich imagined a smile under his father’s stone face and formed one of his own. He raised his weapon and started charging with an exuberant shout. Keregar, without even turning, said to Varzar: “Get the gems into safety.” After which he tightened the straps on his metal gauntlets. For a split second, he did break a grin. It truly felt like a decade he last had a riot. They used to happen all the time back in his younger years. When everything felt so much more dynamic. Son kills father. Brothers fought wars. Conquest delivered upon any race’s doorstep. In a way, the Anathos wars hadn’t just changed the Gems. The times now, they felt strange. Foreign. So much of tradition had changed. Drakka was tamed. Maybe it was true what they said. Maybe Drakkan weren’t meant to live long. Maybe they were just expected to die gutted in a wild forest. Or bleed out on a battlefield. And maybe, that fate had now changed. Whatever it was, Keregar felt a strange sorrow coming over him. A sorrow that was quickly pushed away and replaced by rage.

Varzar didn’t feel so good. There was a definitive bitter taste in his mouth. Was this how father always felt? If so, no wonder why he always treated everyone and everything like crap. His stomach hurt so much, it felt like he was poisoned. He had filled his drinking sack with the stuff. Because while it made him physically ill, it also made him incredibly numb to everything. The whole world felt so far away. The mixture he made from the various boozes in the cellar might have tasted like the piss of a great Hornrat back home, it did make him feel numb. Like he wasn’t obligated to feel sadness or anger or confusion. No he just felt nothing. Still, when Nadia made a comment, he felt a short pang. “I- Do-“ in his nebulous mind he couldn’t really formulate a good answer to her remark. Did the market really look like the ones in Gemmenia? “Drakka is actually-“ he wanted to say, when Nadia commented on how much more colorful the marked looked. But his stomach didn’t like him opening his mouth for anything other than the unholy cocktail he had made. The cramps made it quite clear to him that he shouldn’t speak, and he did instantly shut up with no follow up.

He tried his best to stumble behind the group. Though it had to be obvious to everyone watching that the little Drakkan was quite beyond himself. This all lasted until a dead silence fell. Varzar couldn’t see what had happened in front of the group. He just knew that suddenly the twins were gone and a very real fight had broken out before them. Adrenaline has a weird effect on a brain under influence. It makes everything sharp again but at the same time, he had barely any real sensation in his muscles. When his father ordered him to hide the gems, he was ready. Except when he looked up, Xaelia was already gone. “No… No! No! No!” He yelled out. To no avail. Xaelia was gone. In his panic he grabbed Nadia, but in his rather physically senseless state that might have been a bit too forceful. The young Drakkan pulled her into the nearest tent, where a vendor looked quite surprised when they ran behind his counter table. “No! You’re not allowed to-“ but Varzar felt a strange sense of courage boil up. “Shut up! We’re hiding here!” the vendor wanted to pull his dagger, but right then a Drakkan was thrown through the tent roof into the store. Varzar overthrew the table, letting everything on it clang onto the floor and pulled Nadia behind it, so both were hidden. The vendor had already fled with most of his gold. Varzar, immediately pushed a hand over her mouth and put his pointing finger over his lips, bidding her to be quiet. “Where the hell… am I…” the dazzed faller said as he rose up. Varzar peeked out, just when the faller turned towards them. “There there, what do we have here.” The new Drakkan was a head taller than Varzar. He looked about a 150. Varzar dropped back behind the counter and put his hand on a the pommel of his dagger. “Come out now. I’m not going to hurt you.” The Drakkan said gently. “I know you’re here!” Suddenly he turned the corner of the toppled table. Varzar jumped up and pulled his dagger. “Not a step closer.” He said. “What do we have here. A little Drakkan and… is that mommy?” the Drakkan said with a rather demeaning tone. “How about I let you live and you just step outside, eh? No need to make this all ugly.” But Varzar kept himself between Nadia and the creep. “Come now. Just let me have a little taste of-“ the Drakkan, seeing no real threat in the little one, took two steps forward. He never had a chance for a third. With a deafening war cry Varzar charged him and pushed the dagger into his stomach. The larger Drakkan yelled: “Bastard!” as he dropped to a knee and tried to cover the wound. But Varzar, in his rather hazed state, didn’t feel done. He felt like a dam had just broken. An impossible amount of emotions flowed over him. Everything at once and it all turned into uncontrollable anger. He couldn’t speak, only scream in the incomprehensible language of rage. He pushed the Drakkan over and jumped on him. Then he stabbed him. Again. Again! Again! Blood spurted out of every wound and began to cover the little one. But he kept on screaming. Even when blood squirted into his mouth and onto his eyes. He kept yelling and stabbing even when he could barely see. His knife hit bone, organs, cartilage. Every time he plunged his knife into the now lifeless body he felt something else. Some other smoothness or resistance. Eventually his own rage wore off. Varzar couldn’t even hold on to the blade now. His arms shook as he dropped the steel on top of the corpse and crawled off of it. Even on arms and legs his entire body shook. A sickness, a wrongness rose up from within him and he puked on the floor there, next to the mutilated body.

Hirstvich was in the midst of battle, thoroughly enjoying himself as he slammed an axe into a face. Who was it? Why did he do it? Who cares? It was all in the name of the War God. “Drunn bless me!” he shouted as blood spat out of a fresh wound. He had just thrown some guy away when he finally reached his twin, who was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. “Hey bullneck!” Another Drakkan challenged. Both the twins turned to him. Then they looked at each other. “He’s mine!” Herstvich yelled. “Mine!” Hirstvich yelled back. Before the challenger could even react, two giant Drakkan charged him with horns up front. But it was Herstvich who impaled him on them and threw him over. After which Histvich pulled him up with his hair. “Which one of us is the Bullneck.” But the wounded challenger couldn’t say anything, not with two punctured lungs. Not that Histvich cared. He just slapped him. “Well?! Who is it?” The soon to be corpse just spat out blood. “Ah that is just unasked for.” Histvich said, after which he pulled his hair further back and cut the throat open. Herstvich, in the meantime, had already been swept away into some other brawl. Suddenly someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, ready to punish whoever dared touch him. Only to see a friend. “Alreg!” He yelled excited, as he put both of his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Alreg did the same, stabilizing themselves from the pulls and pushes. “This is the best riot of the year!” Alreg shouted! “I know!” Herstvich yelled, after which he headbutted his friend and carried on with the fight.

Finding Keregar could never be hard. You just had to find the source of blazes and large boulders being flung around. Reaching him, however, was a whole different kind of labor. He stood in the middle of all chaos. Surrounded by brawls of their own and challengers who wanted to take a swing at a Drakkan. Some knew he was a warlord, others didn’t. Keregar held in his left hand a searing hot chain he had looted from a corpse and a Warhammer most would have to wield with both hands. “Come on! Are none of you worthy!?” he challenged. And the challenge was answered from Drakkan all around him. But none could reach the Warlord. With every hit of the chain blazing flames erupted from the red-hot iron. If they come too close, a literal stone crushing strike of his hammer dealt a usual fatal blow. All around him the earth had cracked and fire raged unchecked. They were joined with spikes of ice and strong winds. It was pandemonium, chaos, a small moment of war within the very streets of the capital. It was joined with not just blood, rage and glory. But also with mud, dirt and the ugliness of death. And within the heart of that chaos was Keregar. Marked by fire and stone. But eventually, the fighting had to stop. The survivors either crawled or hobbled out. While others looted the dead and the left behind stalls. Not that there was all that much value left behind. Only then Keregar found Ineraz. Right when he sat down on a stump of rock.

Keregar smiled as he clutched his bleeding side. “Meeting after being blood-soaked. I see it as a good omen.” He returned to Ineraz. “I want to invite you and yours.” He said, motioning to his gems. “To Kereg-Kor. What say you, Ineraz, famous hunter of Drakka. Would you honor an old warlord with a hunt?” He said, after which he kept silent for a minute. Behind him Varzar appeared from his tent with Nadia close by. The little Drakkan looked like he just crawled out of a grave. At the same time, the twins rejoined their father. Each wearing huge smiles and drenched in blood.
Warlord of Kereg-Kor, Husband of Xaelia@Ellion and Nadia@Vesuvius00
Interacting with: His brides

CONTENT WARNING: The following paragraph, placed within the hider, hints heavily towards certain sexual acts without consent. Reader's discretion is adviced.

Keregar gathered his Gems an hour later. They were late sure, but it didn’t sound as if they’d made a problem of something. Xaelia though, she was dressed in different clothes. Maybe something happened to hers. He’d ask, but there were more important things to do. Outside Varzar was tending to the horses and Keregar had business with his youngest son. “You did what I asked.” Varzar couldn’t look his father in the eye. There was still as swirling mess inside of him. Like he wanted to puke, or attack his father, or stab himself. Any of those options felt like it would make him feel a better pain. Yet he tried to kept his calm, even though the aversion on his face was really clear. “Yes. I did.” But Keregar didn’t have enough. “What did you do?” With a fierceness that appeared increasingly more frequent Varzar turned to his father. He stared in the dark, demanding eyes of his father. But Keregar, the veteran warlord knew what he wanted to know. “I slapped her. You happy with that? I slapped one of your brides.” He said, before turning away again. Keregar released a grunt of approval.

“We move!” Keregar announced. His brides were ushed each on a horse. Though the saddle was made for Drakkan, not the delicate form of a Gem. They quickly reached the busy streets. But unlike some, Keregar would not seek refuge in the shaded, calmer alleys. No, he was a warlord and would act like it. In front of the horses a vanguard of five heavily armored Drakkan marched. Two of them were the twins. Gleefully pushing anyone out of the way who didn’t move fast enough. One person tried to make a problem out of it. As he yelled and complained, he was thrown to the side. Keregar barely looked at him. This was a common theme. Keregar didn’t care for the common plebs beneath his sight and his sons cared even less. A few Drakkan and other creatures trying to peddle their wares in the busy streets were knocked over our away. There was a certain tension in the air forming around them.

Upon reaching the main market, the whole caravan halted and everyone dismounted. The horses were tied to a post with two guards near them. “Varzar, Nadia, Xaelia. Here.” The Warlord beckoned the others. “My son. You did good.” He said as he handed him a pouch that had a very obvious, clear clinging inside of it. “Use it all.” He whispered to Varzar. Then he turned to his brides. “We are going to wander the market. If you see anything you want, clothes or jewels or whatever you like, you tell me.” With those words the slow crawl around the market began.
I'm probably joining with a very high-fantasy, high medieval, lightbound kingdom in the West. Think templars and knights, all sworn to a pantheon of 'light'-deities.
“And then I said: No, but a Vorcha might!” A group of Asari broke into a laughter, together with David who was enjoying themselves thoroughly. He had a drink in his hand, but with a lack of alcohol he was certain to maintain his composure. One of the several demands the Ambassador had made. Along with having to wear his armor and being armed. He tried to explain that a biotics practically always armed. But the man seemed to prefer bullets over biotics. Well, he was paying David enough. And he was allowed to mingle with the crowd. Which resulted in him entertaining a whole bunch of high ranking Asari. One of them being a stern Matriarch that still cracked a smile at his joke.

“So what have you been up to?” One Asari, Adena asked. “Ah, not that much. The Citadel is rather peaceful, as you might imagine.” He answered truthfully. It was certainly a more boring job than with the Company. But a scar on his chest was a stern reminder of why he left that life behind. “Safer though. Much safer. Nothing attacks the Citadel.” Many in the group nodded. Except for the Matriarch, who still remembered the time of the Reapers and how the Citadel got seized not once but twice. But then the speeches began and David apologized himself and moved to a more advantageous position. He had a slight overlook over the people as the Councilors moved to their podium.

Then a spectre chimed in on the security channel. Just like agreed, she appeared on his HUD. David took a moment to observe her file on his visor. A Turian soldier of some renown. Though she called herself a Spectre. Which was rumored but unverified. Well, maybe it was now. The next to call in was Alria Vicrinus, or Angel as she called herself. Another Turian. Most notably she has an extreme hatred for Cerberus. Now David had no sympathies for terrorists. But sometimes it felt like they made a point. Sometimes. Then, surprisingly, two Geth checked in. “Geth.. What a day.” There would be others checking in. It was protocol after all.

“David Fletchers, overlooking the crowd for now. ID 2596663.” He said through his com piece, making sure he’d be known to others. The last thing he wanted was confusion if something really did happen. Not that it would.
@Andromedai I think my CS is ready now. I've changed a bit of the history as well as the personality. Hope you like it!
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