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Little Bill
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- Last Seen: 28 days ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- ████ 6 yrs ago
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Bio
User has no bio, yet i consume the greedy. i rob the thieves. i kill the killers. nobody wants me. if you don't have me, nobody will want you. what's my name?
Most Recent Posts
Welcome to the guild, hope you find something that interests you!
Welcome to the guild!
@Jbcool
Oh come on, it's not the usual romantical knightly poem bullcrap. He took up this title solely to have a semi-justified reason to kill anybody who looks into the sky at night and therefore disrespects Luna with such impudence. This is his gimmick and a mad obsession. In his domain, everyone except the most favored guests have to walk with their heads down in order to not accidentaly catch a glimpse of the firmament because if they look up at day they will probably try to do so at night and as such should have their eyes removed as a precaution.
Are we playing self-centered cruel fair folk or what.
Where does the semi-justified reason come in? It just seems like your guy kills or blinds anyone who looks at the moon because he's crazy, which sounds like something a human village would band together against considering elves being equivalent to goblins in this setting.
Also @Jbcool, would there be elf-orcs, or is that too much of a genetic leap for non-stillborn offspring?
I decided that since we're basically RPing as more chaotic evil versions of the elves from Elfquest, I'm gonna have a character in a threemateship, but I haven't decided on two wives or a wife and a husband. Where do the elves fall on the acceptance scale for things of that sort?
Last question! The elves live in remote places like swamps, forests, and caves -- Do they have the tech and resources to make metal and fabric, or do they use stone weapons and wear furs?
Interested. I take it the elves will be similar to fair folk in british/european mythology, stealing kids out of their cradles and spoiling crops and whatnot?
In
Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
Oh boy! Better start writing my character sheet!
Height: 6'2
Height: 6'2
"This is not my fault."
Lots of social nuances had escaped Poole since his resurrection, and changing the cadence and tone of things he'd repeat to not sound creepy was one of them. Poole repeated his phrase in the same timing, tone, and electric-sounding voice, as if the bosun were speaking in front of a fan. Having shot his rifle once and without a spare five seconds to reload, Poole tossed the rifle forward towards a pirate confusedly opening his arms, before crumpling downwards after actually catching the behemoth of a gun. With one pirate temporarily disabled, Poole raised his fists in a pugilist's stance and thrust an arm forward with a hydraulic-sounding hiss, punching a pirate in the chest more like a firing piston than swinging strike.
The man was launched backwards into his fellow crewmates, and in rapid succession, Poole did the same with his unextended fist to another. Poole continued to swing at the small group towards him, punching his steely fists into men full-force, sending them crashing backwards at best and breathlessly grasping their collapsed ribcages at worst. It wasn't long before the group that had formed around the two began to disperse, grabbing a few of their wounded and dragging them back towards Vivian's Mercy.
"They are retreating. Shall I advance?" Poole remained in his clinched boxer's stance, prepared to continue his onslaught if need be, though Fletcher shook his head, placing his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
"That won't be needed. We sail for Shoel today, not the heads of our enemies." The captain gave a chuckle, and was joined in his laughing by the few crew members who could hear him over the dwindling battle. "Excellent work Mr. Poole. We'll clean up the rest of the trash on deck, you're free to go charge."
Poole gave a nod, and that was that. He straightened himself with a mechanical whirr to his motions, and began making his way below the deck to his cabin. There were still a few enemies left to be finished off or thrown overboard, but what was done was done -- the retreating pirates incited even more to retreat, and so on. With Fletcher having dismissed Poole, the cyborg was now more focused on having some time alone and recharging than picking off a few pirates or listening to the captain talk about the attack and whose fault it was.
He descended further into the belly of the ship, towards his quarters and office. The captain and quartermaster had offices near the top of the ship where the sun shone, but not Poole. His room was at the end of a dead-end hallway only close to the ship's boiler room, the engines, and the deckhand's bunks. Poole enjoyed the solitude -- Less questions, after all. He grasped the handle of the door and opened, entering the room and closing the door behind him. It was dark, as it always was, illuminated only by the arcing electricity of several coils and terminals in the room, with the only noise the bubbling of several glass bottles and beakers. At the corner of the room was a dusty glass tube where Poole had slept for two thousand years, though it was now cracked and forgotten.
"Poole the Unkillable, I take it?"
A figure crept out from the shadows, and Poole's head snapped to the side to meet his gaze. He wore a black pair of pants and sleeveless red shirt, though what Poole noticed immediately was the man's sword. It was a simple enough scimitar, though it seemed to be connected by the hilt to a battery pack worn on the man's back by a wire. With the click of a button, the blade began to drip with sparks of electricity in the darkness of Poole's dungeon of a room, illuminating the pirate's face for split seconds at a time with blue light. He was a fearsome man with a shaved head and black goatee, with a scar running over his nose.
"My name's Zeke, but that don't matter for long. Pretty soon I'll be Zeke the Zombie-Killer, and you'll be a dead man once more."
"I disagree." Poole grabbed one of the bubbling glass bottles and flung it at the invader, and with a swing of his sword, it shattered mid-air into thousands of pieces around the man. Coated in the bottle's pink liquid but unharmed, the man gave a laugh and brushed some of the pink fluid out of his eyes. The two began to circle one another, the pirate with his electric sword and Poole with his metal fists.
"Dirty trick. You use the same dirty tricks to kill Goran, dead man?" The pirate began circling closer and closer towards Poole, swinging his sword over his shoulders in a flashy spin to draw the bosun towards the wall.
"There is only one dead man here." Poole swung his arm towards the man, and in a flash of movement, the pirate swung his electric blade at the bosun, sinking it into his arm as it expelled electricity. Poole seized back as the electricity surged through his body, though the same could not be said for the soaking wet pirate who stood before him, frying himself in his inability to take his thumb off of his hilt's button. He twitched twice as he began to smolder, and Poole dropped to his knees to dislodge his arm. The man slumped forward over one of Poole's steely shoulders, and the bosun pushed his body off with a shove.
Biologically, Poole didn't have a use for deep breathing. He no longer required oxygen to send to his remaining brain, and had no parasympathetic nervous system to stimulate in doing so. Still, Poole sat on his knees, with his undamaged arm supporting him as well, breathing deeply. After a few moments of this, Poole stood up and straightened himself out once more, before lumbering towards a metal box on the wall, and dialing a few of the buttons.
"This is Bosun Poole requesting first aid and a body's removal in the bosun's quarters."
He lifted his finger from the "talk" button, and walked over to the other side of his room, sitting on his bed with a creak and plugging a cord attached to the wall to the back of his neck. He stared at the smoldering pirate's body for a few more moments, before sitting back and closing his eyes as he awaited whoever may come. Recharging was the closest thing, after all, that the ship's boatswain had to sleep.
Lots of social nuances had escaped Poole since his resurrection, and changing the cadence and tone of things he'd repeat to not sound creepy was one of them. Poole repeated his phrase in the same timing, tone, and electric-sounding voice, as if the bosun were speaking in front of a fan. Having shot his rifle once and without a spare five seconds to reload, Poole tossed the rifle forward towards a pirate confusedly opening his arms, before crumpling downwards after actually catching the behemoth of a gun. With one pirate temporarily disabled, Poole raised his fists in a pugilist's stance and thrust an arm forward with a hydraulic-sounding hiss, punching a pirate in the chest more like a firing piston than swinging strike.
The man was launched backwards into his fellow crewmates, and in rapid succession, Poole did the same with his unextended fist to another. Poole continued to swing at the small group towards him, punching his steely fists into men full-force, sending them crashing backwards at best and breathlessly grasping their collapsed ribcages at worst. It wasn't long before the group that had formed around the two began to disperse, grabbing a few of their wounded and dragging them back towards Vivian's Mercy.
"They are retreating. Shall I advance?" Poole remained in his clinched boxer's stance, prepared to continue his onslaught if need be, though Fletcher shook his head, placing his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
"That won't be needed. We sail for Shoel today, not the heads of our enemies." The captain gave a chuckle, and was joined in his laughing by the few crew members who could hear him over the dwindling battle. "Excellent work Mr. Poole. We'll clean up the rest of the trash on deck, you're free to go charge."
Poole gave a nod, and that was that. He straightened himself with a mechanical whirr to his motions, and began making his way below the deck to his cabin. There were still a few enemies left to be finished off or thrown overboard, but what was done was done -- the retreating pirates incited even more to retreat, and so on. With Fletcher having dismissed Poole, the cyborg was now more focused on having some time alone and recharging than picking off a few pirates or listening to the captain talk about the attack and whose fault it was.
He descended further into the belly of the ship, towards his quarters and office. The captain and quartermaster had offices near the top of the ship where the sun shone, but not Poole. His room was at the end of a dead-end hallway only close to the ship's boiler room, the engines, and the deckhand's bunks. Poole enjoyed the solitude -- Less questions, after all. He grasped the handle of the door and opened, entering the room and closing the door behind him. It was dark, as it always was, illuminated only by the arcing electricity of several coils and terminals in the room, with the only noise the bubbling of several glass bottles and beakers. At the corner of the room was a dusty glass tube where Poole had slept for two thousand years, though it was now cracked and forgotten.
"Poole the Unkillable, I take it?"
A figure crept out from the shadows, and Poole's head snapped to the side to meet his gaze. He wore a black pair of pants and sleeveless red shirt, though what Poole noticed immediately was the man's sword. It was a simple enough scimitar, though it seemed to be connected by the hilt to a battery pack worn on the man's back by a wire. With the click of a button, the blade began to drip with sparks of electricity in the darkness of Poole's dungeon of a room, illuminating the pirate's face for split seconds at a time with blue light. He was a fearsome man with a shaved head and black goatee, with a scar running over his nose.
"My name's Zeke, but that don't matter for long. Pretty soon I'll be Zeke the Zombie-Killer, and you'll be a dead man once more."
"I disagree." Poole grabbed one of the bubbling glass bottles and flung it at the invader, and with a swing of his sword, it shattered mid-air into thousands of pieces around the man. Coated in the bottle's pink liquid but unharmed, the man gave a laugh and brushed some of the pink fluid out of his eyes. The two began to circle one another, the pirate with his electric sword and Poole with his metal fists.
"Dirty trick. You use the same dirty tricks to kill Goran, dead man?" The pirate began circling closer and closer towards Poole, swinging his sword over his shoulders in a flashy spin to draw the bosun towards the wall.
"There is only one dead man here." Poole swung his arm towards the man, and in a flash of movement, the pirate swung his electric blade at the bosun, sinking it into his arm as it expelled electricity. Poole seized back as the electricity surged through his body, though the same could not be said for the soaking wet pirate who stood before him, frying himself in his inability to take his thumb off of his hilt's button. He twitched twice as he began to smolder, and Poole dropped to his knees to dislodge his arm. The man slumped forward over one of Poole's steely shoulders, and the bosun pushed his body off with a shove.
Biologically, Poole didn't have a use for deep breathing. He no longer required oxygen to send to his remaining brain, and had no parasympathetic nervous system to stimulate in doing so. Still, Poole sat on his knees, with his undamaged arm supporting him as well, breathing deeply. After a few moments of this, Poole stood up and straightened himself out once more, before lumbering towards a metal box on the wall, and dialing a few of the buttons.
"This is Bosun Poole requesting first aid and a body's removal in the bosun's quarters."
He lifted his finger from the "talk" button, and walked over to the other side of his room, sitting on his bed with a creak and plugging a cord attached to the wall to the back of his neck. He stared at the smoldering pirate's body for a few more moments, before sitting back and closing his eyes as he awaited whoever may come. Recharging was the closest thing, after all, that the ship's boatswain had to sleep.
Excuse the length of this post, using it more to open some Xiubao/Ryotaro dialogue and plot advancement.
"We can take you to a safehouse!" One of the brothers shouted out. "Masu-Kai owns it, so nobody will come looking! Real fuckin' safe! Their arms were outstretched through the bars, desperately pawing at the cool night breeze rolling in through the open doorway. "You can't just leave us to rot here! Come on! Come on! We'll take you there!" The other shouted over his brother. "Please!" They shouted in unison. One was shaved bald and muscular with a scar over his nose, and the other was skinnier with a wispy black ponytail tied into a braid. "We'll give you money, too! For your trouble! Just let us out!" Their shouting had now become more noticeable than the escape itself, and was becoming more and more of a risk by the second.
"What the hell are you ass-clowns waiting for?!" Ryotaro shouted at his fellow escapees. "They've got money and a hideout! Where are those stupid keys?" He began to make his way towards the broom closet, rifling through the bits of trash and clutter therein.
"I don't break bread with rapists." Ibiki said firmly. The striking squid was soft in the face, certainly, but he was far from soft-spined. He was a man of principle, and on these principles, he would not be bullied by a street thug or grant two criminals such as these their freedom.
"We don't have any other plan, Ibiki-san," Hisao said, walking through the doorway with a crouch, having wiped the blood off of his nose and onto his pants. "The ends justify the means, eh?" He suggested, grabbing the back of his head in his discomfort at the situation. "I don't like them either, but I don't know anybody in this hick town,"
"Yeah! none of you know anybody here, and the road's ten miles to the next-"
"SHUT IT!" Hisao roared, drunkenly snapping at the two imprisoned men. A silence fell over the room as the three began pondering the morally correct decision. Finally, Ibiki turned to Xiubao.
"You haven't said anything on the matter. What do you think?"
"What the hell are you ass-clowns waiting for?!" Ryotaro shouted at his fellow escapees. "They've got money and a hideout! Where are those stupid keys?" He began to make his way towards the broom closet, rifling through the bits of trash and clutter therein.
"I don't break bread with rapists." Ibiki said firmly. The striking squid was soft in the face, certainly, but he was far from soft-spined. He was a man of principle, and on these principles, he would not be bullied by a street thug or grant two criminals such as these their freedom.
"We don't have any other plan, Ibiki-san," Hisao said, walking through the doorway with a crouch, having wiped the blood off of his nose and onto his pants. "The ends justify the means, eh?" He suggested, grabbing the back of his head in his discomfort at the situation. "I don't like them either, but I don't know anybody in this hick town,"
"Yeah! none of you know anybody here, and the road's ten miles to the next-"
"SHUT IT!" Hisao roared, drunkenly snapping at the two imprisoned men. A silence fell over the room as the three began pondering the morally correct decision. Finally, Ibiki turned to Xiubao.
"You haven't said anything on the matter. What do you think?"
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