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5 mos ago
me, mommy, me
3 likes
5 mos ago
eat some bat soup
5 mos ago
I saw like two eps of shaman king and loved it but whoever was broadcasting it here stopped for some reason
1 like
5 mos ago
let me find you one
2 likes
5 mos ago
To be fair that tree was probably a very strategic tree to the North Koreans for obscuring what they were doing, so them killing people trying to get rid of it makes perfect sense
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Bio

get lost, lose my number, stay gone forever

Most Recent Posts

Consider me interested. Figured it's about time to stop lurking this forum and finally get into writing proper.

And taking into account the fact that my 2014 PC can't run singleplayer Bannerlord without shitting itself every 2 hours, this is the next best thing lol


Don't worry, that's a universal thing. I have a GTX 1050ti and somehow, despite the game telling me it's only using 2k of my 4k video memory, having more than 60 people on screen causes the the game to slow to a crawl.

And, @TheHangedMan, glad to have you both, the interest has been a little slow but if we reach a suitable level of interest still, I'm more than happy to run the show for y'all!

As I stood before this beast, I found myself lacking the fear that might've been instilled in me had I been.. something or someone else. Instead, the creatures arrogant assumption that I had to prove my worth to him simply sought to anger me further. Perhaps this was its intention, perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was both. My fists clenched up and, in doing so, I discovered something had been in my hands this entire time, as if it were soldered to my very core and I only realized that it was there just now.

.. a memento of before, perhaps?

My eyes wandered around the colloseum type structure that I'd found myself in, and again I wondered, did this feel familiar? Did this feel unfamiliar? Should I feel at ease or uncomfortable? Should I feel at all? Easy questions to answer when you had the answer, but for someone like me, whoever or whatever I was, they were impossible to answer. For now. The anger swelled up in me again, the fire lurching at my throat begging to get out. Eventually, it did.

“Who are you to test my worthiness?” I yelled at the creature, my grip on the handle of my kanabo tightening. “Why don't you prove yours to me, bastard!” I turned the kanabo in my hands, effortlessly, and gripped it with two hands, the solid heavy part of the mace laying in the dust behind me. And then I rushed forward, and if my eyes could've bled fire, they would have, because the anger in me did not subside. Who was foolish enough to bother me by yelling at me, and then demand I show them my worthiness? Who dared, who?

Surely the creature would try to stop me, I knew that much. After all, I had dodged out of the way when it tried to hurt me. Whenever it would try to ram me out of the way, I would simply swing the kanabo with all my might, aiming to strike it at the perfect time when the momentum of the kanabo was at its greatest. If it did not, I would simply lunge towards the creature with great force and perform a similar strike, attempting to hit it in the side of its face.
@Celsius I just want to pop in and say I'm impressed with your work ethic (I mean, quarantine is the time to work hard, I guess) in getting these posts out. Normally, GM's might dedicate 1 large post to all their players at once, but you're doing it your own way and I like/appreciate that. Without embellishing it, I think this might be the RP that brings back my love for roleplaying.
As I came to my senses and looked around, I found only emptiness, and if it had eyes, it felt as if it were staring right back at me. The thought 'where am I?' did not cross my mind yet, only the insane thumping of the headache that followed my arrival. A man.. woman.. thing could go insane from that sound alone. I open my mouth and try to yell, but not even a single puff of air leaves my dry lungs. What happened?

I wished in that moment that I had an answer, but the deities of this place had taken my answers, and my questions too. All that was left now was whatever I could come up with in this place -- whose name escaped me, whose purpose did the same.

Had I known anything about my past, I might have known that this was a bad place to be, but I did not, and so I only assumed that this was all there was to life. There was no fear on my end, nor any other particular feeling or sensation. All there was was being, and for a moment it felt soothing before the sudden booming voice shook me to my very core.

“Go away!” I wanted to yell, but still there was no air in my lungs that I could use to speak, and so I could only stand there, staring menacingly into the distance, where I thought the voice would be. The voice very well could have been anywhere, though. “Leave me to my life!” I tried again, but alas.

But the voice did not cease, and continued to call me to 'heed his call.' I ignored it for moments, but had no feeling of time, and so I could not measure it. It might have been an hour that I ignored it, or a single second. It became evident to me that it would not stop, more so when the golden footprints appeared in front of me.

Fine, I thought, I'll make you leave me alone. Begrudgingly I set myself onto the path that had been laid out in front of me by some unknown being, a deity perhaps, or a demon. Or, perhaps, just a thing. When I find you, you will be sorry for not leaving me alone. For the first time, I felt an emotion. Anger, annoyance. I resolved to find this voice, and to pull off it's jaw, so that it could never disturb my being again.


11:43 in the morning, on the day that later became the starting point of the most unstable era of the Amegakure region.




The reign of the Haruna and Takenaka would have to come to an end to allow the Sadamaki clan to ascend to their rightful place as the rulers of the Land of Mud -- ever since the age of ninshu, the Sadamaki had battled with other clans and absorbed them into their fold, only to have the growth of their clan stifled by the appearance of two other large clans that sought the same ends. That would come to an end now. After a plentitude of skirmishes in which nothing was gained for any clan, they had agreed to settle this, once and for all. Sadamaki Soshu had, of course, been at the front of this idea. It was a stroke of genius. Instead of making small groups of two or three shinobi fight eachother, the clans would gather up all their shinobi and meet at a predetermined place, and battle it out until there was a single victor left. And that victor would rule the land of mud.

Little did the clan leaders know that the ensuing battle would mark their end, for each and every one of them. Rebellious sentiments had been brewing in each clan respectively as they began growing tired of the endless war between the clans, and hoped for peace. This orchestrated field battle would be the metaphorical nail in the coffin for each of them.

Soshu was preparing for battle in the confines of his relatively large home, readying his armor and shinobi tools and weapons. They were laid out neatly before him on a table while he sat on a straw mat, shirtless, organizing them into neat bundles before applying a sealing technique to them, so that they might be summoned on demand. Nothing surprised a shinobi more than the appearance of a few shuriken from thin air, after all.

“SAKANA!” the man bouldered, using no uncertain amount of tactlessness in doing so. The entire household might very well have heard him, but that was of none of his concern. A few seconds later, a tall but visibly young member of the Sadamaki clan walked inot the room, wearing a metal breastplate on his chest, and a face protector that covered his forehead and then extended down to his cheeks on the sides. His long, black hair was swept back and tied into a knot using a length of linen, and a pin had then been stuck through it to hold it in place. This pin appeaed to be of some expense, as it was expertly crafted by the clan itself, and had the image of two fish circling eachother on the end of the pin that wasn't sharpened. A favored symbol of the Sadamaki.

“Yes, father?” the teen said meekly. “Do you need me?”

“Today we'll kill that Haruna and Takenaka scum, and finally claim what is rightfully ours. Are you ready?” His eyes flashed back as he turned his head only slightly to inspect Sakana from the corners of his eyes. “I expect you to kill many of them today, you understand?”

“Father, must we fight them? They want the same thing as us, and the other clans are centralizing too, surely we can just reach an agree-,” the boy tried to interject, but was cut short by his father, who suddenly slammed a fist into the table, sending a few of the metal tools on the table rinkling off and onto the floor.

“We will NOT work with those bastards. The Land of Mud is ours, you get it? They killed your uncle and you want to work with them?”

“I'm sure we killed uncles on their side too. Uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers. Maybe even children.”

“Tsk.. that scum had it coming, attacking our village like that. You need to resolve yourself, and figure out what is more important. Your family, or their clans?” his father responded, his voice strengthening enough to indicate to Sakana that this would be the end of the discussion.

Sakana sighed heavily before turning around in the doorway. “Yes father,” he said, his voice a whisper, “you're right. I'm sorry.”

“Good,” Soshu answered, “you'll fight by my side today. Father and son, destroying their enemies. It will be glorious, a day the grandkids will remember.”

Sakana stared at the back of his fathers head for a moment before turning around and walking through the door leading to the outside. He needed fresh air. They were about to descend their clans into a brutal war for the sake of land, and his father was preoccupied with whether or not his grandchildren would remember the day.

He understood, in a way, where his father was coming from. He shared that same desire to fight for what was his, but he did not believe that the Haruna and Takenaka clans were in the way. In fact, he believed that they were part of the key to the solution. It was an open secret that the people in the Land of Fire were congregating and forming larger and larger villages, and it would be only a matter of time before they had centralized all of the land of fire and set their eyes on the land of mud.

Sakana did not feel like giving up his freedom to those foreigners, however. And from his understanding, neither did the Haruna or Takenaka. This battle would only serve to weaken whoever came out on top, and it'd make an easy conquest for whatever village decided to swoop in first.

No, they had to stand strong together. But how? When there was this much hatred between the clans that they'd meet in a large open field to fight for no reason other than the fact they existed, where would they possibly find middle ground?






The battlefield that had been agreed upon were the aptly named Grasslands of the Dead. It was a large clearing that was large enough to host multiple small armies of shinobi, with forests on each side of the grasslands, to provide suitable shelter to retreat into should the need arise. Not that any clan would be allowed to retreat.

On top of a small hill, Soshu had set up, with a large naginata in one hand and a large scroll attached to his back. To his left, and slightly back, was Sakana. The boy did not hold any weapon at all, but indeed his fearsome reputation as a ninjutsu specialist would be enough to give him the edge regardless, no fancy swords or staffs needed.

“SADAMAKI ICHIZOKUUU!” Soshu yelled, followed by a cheerful eruption of warcries from the fourty odd men behind him. Soshu was smiling, looking out over the land in front of him, waiting for his sworn enemies to appear. Sakana, on the other hand, looked more shaken than excited. He had seen combat before, despite his young age, so it was perhaps slightly surprising that he seemed nervous.

Now, they'd need to wait for the Haruna's and Takenaka's.
@Celsius I'll send you it as soon as I can, provided nobody else objects to the rule breaking.
I'm interested but a little lost on some of the finer details of the lore. So, count me in. I'm sure it'll become more clear as I read more info. :)
Ah, I was literally writing out my application as you closed the RP. :( Best of luck with this endeavour, in that case!
BUMP motherfuckers




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ne way or the other, we all end up in service of a banner. Eventually. It's just a matter of whether you're following or carrying it.
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1084. Calradia and the surrounding regions are rife with war and, like so many other people, your life was influenced by it in some way or form, whether you were displaced from your home or pressed into service of the imperial army. Perhaps you were a Khuzait nomad that ventured a bit too far west, or a Vlandian bastard that did not wish to ride on the coattails of their legitimate brothers and sisters. A Battanian mercenary, perhaps, or a Sturgian raider that needed to escape after a heated debate with the Boyar you were in service to went bad.

In this story, it is not how you got here that dictates the future, it is the fact that you are here now that matters. We are all brothers and sisters now. We are all Bannerlords. Well.. we will all be Bannerlords at some point, not quite yet.

This story will follow the tales of a former mercenary group that lost most of their company, the Iron Hats in the great battle of Pendraic. They formed a part of the vanguard that were obliterated by the Battanian ambush, and saw their leader and captains die at the hands of Battanian arrows and falxes. Such is the way of war, after all.

Whatever amount of the Iron Hats that survived, no matter how narrowly, has escape the battlefield in the aftermath, between the ambush itself and the time when the Battanians came back, whooping and hollering and decapitating their prey. But there are not many of you left, and you can no longer call yourselves the Iron Hats.

The small group you were a part of escaped all the way to Tevea, deep in imperial territory, before erupting into a discussion at night, which soon turned heated. Just before the members of your group could reach for their blades, the stifled cry of a man caught your attention and, together, you rushed to where the yell had heard. An Imperial doctor laid there, being assaulted by a band of marauders. Your group of experienced, but weary and injured soldiers, made short work of them.

"Thank you, thank you a thousand times," the doctor said. "My name is Tacteos, I was on the way to Diathma to see if I could sell this artifact I have here," he told you all, tapping a box with gold-plated engravings on it. "But it seems this journey is more risky than I had thought. As a thank you for saving my life, I would give you this artiact -- the soldier I got it from said it was a piece of a banner of some importance, shattered a few days ago at the battle of Pendraic."

This information was enough to alert all of you of just what manner of artifact was in your hand -- the Dragon Banner. From the battle you were in days ago, no less.

Here starts your story, Bannerlords. What you may make of it, we know not, but whatever it may be, know that great fame and fortune awaits you.

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Hello and thank you for taking the time to read my interest check. I will be looking for at least 7 counts of interest in this RP. The RP will take the shape of a relatively sandbox-y RP where the choices of your characters will directly influence the plotlines I set out for you as the GM. Together, you will seek to restore the dragon banner, and then.. do as you please with it. As you were all part of the same mercenary group, this means a) the characters have a background with each other and b) your character can be of any culture, as the mercenary group would likely recruit whomever they want. If you have no knowledge of Calradi/Mount and Blade, the game is not terribly complex and you can basically consider it a relatively standard fantasy world minus the fantastical elements.

Thanks again, and let me know if you're interested in being a Butterlord Bannerlord!
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