POOHEAD189 is a Moderator. They assist users and keep the forum running smoothly. They have power across all forums.


Recent Statuses

7 days ago
Current Matt Mercer isn't paid because he's good, he's paid because he was famous beforehand. Same with all the players.
8 days ago
*Gives his good friend Tundy the motivation*
1 like
10 days ago
I'll deter your policy
1 mo ago
Best thing to do is to give them a "good show" or reply with a resounding "tremendous!"
1 mo ago
When you wake up early and go to a funeral of a family friend who died of covid, and then get to work where a coworker warns you against getting vaccinated. It's a weird time.


About Me

Name: Ben
Username: The one and only. Dare I say?
Age: 30
Ethnicity: Mixed
Sex: Male
Religion: Christian (Nondenominational)
Languages: English, Japanese (Semi-fluent & learning), I also know some Scots Gaelic, Quenyan (Elvish), and Miccosukee (My tribal tongue)
Relationship Status: Single (Though generally unavailable unless I find I really enjoy someone).

Current Projects/Freelance work

  • I am a voice talent and script writer for Faerun History
  • I have a much smaller personal Youtube channel that I use to make videos on various subjects. Only been making videos for 2 years, but it's growing!
  • I'm the host of a Science Fiction & Fantasy Podcast where I interview authors of the genre.

Interests (Includes but is not limited to)

  • Writing/Reading (Love writing and I own too many books)
  • Video Games (Been a gamer for close to 23 years now)
  • Working Out/Martial Arts (Wing Chun/Oyama Karate mostly. Some historical swordplay as well.)
  • History (Military History is my specialty)
  • Zoology
  • Art (Mostly Illustrations. Used to be good. Am picking it back up)
  • Voice Acting/Singing
  • Tabletop Gaming (Started late in the game. Been at it for 3 years. I was the kid who bought the monster manuals and D&D books just for the lore for the longest time. I've played 3.5e, 5e, Star Wars D20, Edge of the Empire, PF, and PF2.)
  • Weaponry of all kinds
  • Anime (mostly action/shonen. DBZ & YYH being my favorites)
  • Movies (Action/War/Drama films being my go-to)
  • Music (Rock of all kinds, as well as historical folk songs, sea shanties, pub songs, a bit of classical music, etc)
  • Guitar (am learning to play, but being left handed makes it challenging)
  • There's more but if you care enough you can PM me :P

Roleplay F.A.Q.

  • Fantasy, Sci Fi, and Historical are my genres. Fantasy being my favorite and Sci Fi/Historical being close seconds.
  • Advanced / Nation / 1x1 / Casual (only in certain circumstances)
  • I generally write at the 'Advanced Level' meaning 4+ Paragraphs with good grammar.
  • I am usually busy with many projects and RPs, but if you wish to do a 1x1 with me, you'll need to present your case. Those I already do it with have my trust as a Roleplayer.
  • I love many, many fictional universes so me trying to list them all is an effort in futility!


Most Recent Posts

"Let's get this over with then" Alcander remarked. He wasn't perturbed at continuing, but damn he was still a bit jarred from nearly dying from the near-airplane experience. At least he had sure footing as he went onto the gangplank.
"I met a traveller from an antique land, who said—'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand'" He began to recite in a strange, jaunty fashion. For some reason, singsong versions of great poems did keep his spirits up, no matter how bleak the writing was.

He decided to go along with Chesa at her oh so subtle 'hint', waiting for her to climb down the net, waiting for the rope net to ripple his way. He reached out and barely grabbed it, strong fingers interlocking with the coils. He climbed down with far more ease than he had been walking. His time in Norway had given him all the climbing experience he needed, and he's had to use ropes in a few different tight spots in some exciting points of his life, a few with Opportunity. Most in fact, since she bred trouble where she went.

He landed on his feet easily, moving the fringe of his hair out of his eyes. Even with his vision compromised for the briefest of seconds, his M1911 was in his free hand like some sort of firearm iaido. It was in his pants one moment and the next, he held it in his hand, hammer cocked. Alcander followed after Chesa, but as he wove through the jungle of steel and wood, he felt more than truly saw a movement to his left. The younger man stopped on his front foot, but as he spun, a hand shot out and knocked the gun out of his grip with the blow of a palm.

Alcander whipped to the side, pivoting on his feet and blocked a strike with his forearm, kicking out but missing the assailant's leg as they dodged and kicked in return, Alcander accepting the blow, interlocking the attacker's arm, ducking under a jab, pulling their locked arm with him. The body was yanked down, meeting a hammering fist into the chest of the shadowy opponent to send them careening off the plank they battled. It was only then, with a stinging leg and the would-be assassin's body falling down another level that he tried to get a look at their face, but it was obscured as they hit the wooden planks with a roll and disappeared.

"Shit," He breathed, adrenaline pumping. Grabbing his gun, he decided Chesa could deal with Pierre, stepping off the rise to land where the stranger had. His gun out, his eyes sharpened as he walked into the shadowy baroque forest of steel pipes and dancing shadows as the blimp jostled in the wind.

I can't join immediately, but in a week I probably will be very interested.
"This crazy..." He began, watching her figure shrink into the night sky until he saw her drop onto the top of the manor. He couldn't see if she landed safely, but he imagined she had. She had a reputation for survival, which he could appreciate. He too often lived by the skin of his teeth. He prayed to the great raven to keep him alive, as he looped his arms around the straps and backed up. He didn't remember the run or the leap, but he would never forget the flight.

His stomach lurched as he fell into the thin air, but the membranes caught the wind and what seemed like a fatal fall was reversed into a smooth glide. Galt had certainly never attempting something like this before, he had balanced enough in his life to align his weight and spread his arms to grab just the right currents. After nearly getting snagged on a flagpole, he cleared the top of the manor and dropped down. He had a worse experience in flight, but he looked to have landed a bit easier. Of course, as he landed in front of Kashvi, he made a show of his landing to show off, hoping she hadn't seen him nearly die coming in.

"Nice contraption. I'm glad it's not Guild Issue, though." He joked with a smirk. "Thieves falling from the sky isn't conspicuous in most circumstances."

Glancing around, there was an arch with a tinted window about twelve paces away. He motioned for Kashvi to follow him to it, creeping over beside the window. He made sure every movement was as quiet as the padding of a mouse, so he felt a bit safer taking a peek into the window. Only the barest hint of light showed through the glass, and with his good eyes he saw two figures in a bed, entwined in one another. He couldn't see who it was, or if they were asleep, but a single candle in the room was lit. This was certainly the easiest way in, but he did have his glass cutter. It was no trouble swinging down to a lower window by the creases in the stone and silently slicing his way in.

"What do you think?" He mouthed to Kashvi.
@POOHEAD189 Are you still accepting applications for new characters?

We are open for business! Just make a character sheet and I can review it :)

Nah my dude, Reyvadin is going to cut off it's head using his latent psychic powers that only awaken when he's asleep.

That spear you got must have some added effects.
Advertising for some new blood now, and I am allowing two players to make second characters!

Expect a move-along post within a few nights as well. Thanks everyone for being so patient!
The Highlander was unique in many ways, but it certainly sounded like a ship. There was always an ever present hum in the air, from the power, to the engines, to the small beeps the various computers would make around every corner. Tanya had finally begun to get used to it, but Neil and Sayeeda were accustomed to it for many years, albeit through different circumstances. It was nice to be back there after being so long planetside, particularly in the dump they had just left. Neil still felt like he smelled like mutant gangers everywhere he went. Thank Gideon it was worth it. All that stolen ordnance and a few thousand units of credit added to their databooks for their trouble, most of it illicit but that didn't matter worth shit.

Saxon had begun hibernating again. He had slaughtered most of the spiders, and even a few scorpions; devouring the men he could and spitting out the particularly mutated, commenting on how sour or unpleasant they were. He equated it to eating a burnt piece of meat. There was a bland, disagreeable quality to them if they were heavily irradiated enough. Neil had never tried human, or mutant for that matter, but he would take Saxon's word for it. It seemed his evolved form had a high metabolism and needed rest if a lot of energy was expended, and so now the hulking bounty hunter slept peaceably for once in the cargo hold.

"Glad t' 'ave you lads and lasses back, first mate. But ye havnae given any coordinates." Lonney remarked, being given his default 'highland' voice setting.

"That's because we don't know where the fuck to go yet, Lonney." Neil remarked, slowing down their sublight engines so they could orbit a nearby moon, switching off all power but life support, gravity, and the auxiliary, making the ship undetectable to anyone that wasn't specifically looking hard in their area. The pilot placed his hands behind his head and kicked back, feet on the dash as it were. "Me and the captain will need a word before we go anywhere, and she's somewhere around here."

"Aye, lad. In the meantime, we 'ave heated water an' coffee. 'Ad plenty o' time to heat stuff up while you lot were down there, ya ken?"

"Yeah, it took longer than I thought, I'll admit. But all in all, it was a bonding experience." Neil replied, gazing out of the display. The moon, Gamera IV, was purple in hue and littered with so many craters it nearly had a uniform, smooth look to it.
As Neil ascended the stairs, he smelled something he couldn't quite pinpoint. A mixture of oils, but also something inherently unpleasant. There was still baleful light from the cellar burgeoning along the walls and stamped on his back, and with another cry for Emmaline, he opened the door to his left and pointed his pistol instinctively. Inside the candle-lit room adorned with skulls and thigh bones, he saw two men having raucous sex on a table, and normally he wouldn't judge but one of them had the head of a goat with fangs in its maw. The man and beastman both turned to regard him, and though Neil could have shot them, all he had otherwise was a long knife and he needed the ammo and time.

"Sorry for disturbing you gents, go back to business." He said listlessly, closing the door again and propping a chair up at the doorknob to keep them from coming at him. It took less than a few moments for them to begin pounding on the door, and he continued.

He was scared, which wasn't usual for the rakish ne'er-do-well. Neil had never been the most devout man, but he likely should have paid more attention to the sermons. The afterlife seemed distant, but the present was very reminiscent of hell. There was a strange buzzing in the air that somehow seemed to put pressure on his psyche and make him think in strange ways. Thankfully he was Neil Edwards, who already did so, so it didn't really effect him as much as it would have a run-of-the-mill empire serf or citizen.

Another door opened, and out stepped a naked, muscled man with tattoes and scars, and his left pectoral had a missing nipple in which puss continued to boil out. Somehow he didn't seem surprised to see Neil, and the engineer could just barely duck under a blow that embedded into brick. Neil grabbed for his knife and plunged it into the man's midsection even as his let his gun barrel discharge right below his chin. It was a move he had learned from Solozzo Delatori the assassin back in Marienburg, though Neil executed it here rather boorishly.

The mutant dropped, though surprisingly it wasn't dead. Just as the door behind him burst open and the two lovers he had rudely interrupted groped out, Neil heard a window crashing from across the hall and a familiar scream. His heart leaped in hope, and he realized it was time to go. He rushed into the room the mutant had walked out of and made a running leap at the window, glass shattering and cutting him on the neck painfully, but he landed in a rough roll and wasn't too deeply wounded. He clambered toward the low wall and bushes around the edge of the grounds, wiped the glass off and gave the two lovers who watched him from the broken window the finger, before climbing over and spotting Emmaline on the alleyway.
Neil's eyes bulged in surprise. Just as he was going to step through, the door slammed shut from some unseen force. Magical or through a mechanism, he didn't have the time to tell. Then he heard Emmaline scream, and then her scream moved from the left to the right and then up what he guessed were a set of stairs. His blood ran cold, but he knew if he let it get to him, he wouldn't be able to figure out how to help her. Damn, were these people sorcerers or cultists? Ranald really rolled the dice on this one. Taking in the measure of the door, he went to work on the lock and realized the lock wasn't the way to go.

Thankfully it was but a mere wooden door, so he decided to brute force it. Emmaline hadn't the muscle, but he probably did. Neil shouldered the oaken door twice, and with a lunging kick that had all of its weight behind it, the door handle broke off and it swung open. Whatever had been on the other side of it was hit by the swinging object and slammed into the wall. Neil reached inside his suit and took out his flintlock, cocking it and stepping forward to save his damsel in distress.

Once he passed the door, he saw a writhing mass of limbs and internal organs made external slowly getting up from being shoved. It had three arms and two legs...at least he thought. One of the arms and one of the legs had four joints. He couldn't tell where the head was, or what the thing had once been if anything. He gave a very unheroic squeal and shot it without hesitation. The bullet punched into its sponge-like flesh, and though it didn't kill the thing, whatever it was spasmed and screeched. Neil leaped back with an expression of surprise and disgust and grabbed the first vial he found, throwing it on the creature. The clay pot busted, sending cascading purple flames to envelope it. The thing mewled as it was burned.

"Sigmar's fucking hammer," He cursed, seeing the runes on the walls still flaring brightly. Nothing else stepped through the gateway, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Emmaline!" He cried, rushing up the stairs and reloading his gun.
The promenade wasn't bustling, but the crowd wasn't small either. The night still had life in it, which suited Neil just fine. Oftentimes, a plethora of people did well for thieving. It put people at ease and made a good excuse to try and go off alone, or to meld into the crowd itself. Most of the crowd was the old blood of Nuln, tracing their lineage back at least two centuries, he'd heard. To his surprise, he did see a few wealthy Kislevites and what he thought were a few rieklanders.

Neil escorted Emmaline with a hook arm down the street, eyeing one another and whispering about the manor, noticing the grounds and the street around it. Like most imperial buildings, it was built for defense, even in the middle of the rich section of Nuln. No windows were on the lower floor, all the doors were thick oak and reinforced with iron. Luckily, it was easy enough for Neil to climb up to the second floor window. The arch above the front door (and the side door) was wide enough to simply stand on. That, and there was a locked cellar leading under the manor was just to the structure's right.

Emmaline's new coat tickled him when he went to suggest either of those two options, and when he did he saw the gold lust in her eyes, bedecked in the furs. Without warning, stopping by the next house, Neil grabbed her and planted a passionate kiss on her, grabbing her blonde head and taking what taste he wanted from her, and then went. "Let's go in, and after this we'll finish what I just started."
Torm had hunted before. In fact, it was a pasttime for any knight or lord, along with hawking and tournaments. But he had never been the best one. The andredian cavalier knew he was far better fighting men than monsters, due to experience. Though it was a part of his curriculum and he did have some formal training. He just wished he knew what this thing was supposed to be. Juliette's suggestion had merit, though it begged the question why a foreign beast was so far north. He shook his head as he readied his saddle, more to himself than his companion.

"Could be a Varghulf," he responded with more than a bit of trepidation. They weren't the worst thing to face, but the large wolf-like beasts were cruel, and if the stories were true, smart. It was said some had mastered speech, but his teacher hadn't believed the tales, so he supposed he didn't. Either way, they would find out eventually. Torm lifted his flask up to his lips and downed some water, before mounting Lycurgus with the skill borne into a knight.

Their two mounts cantered out of the stables, Torm on Lycurgus and Juliette on a dappled mare named Swifttrot. Her tune followed them, and despite his anxieties, they dissipated when the epic melody began to play. Juliette was good, and Torm had simple tastes. He gave her a brilliant smile, unused to having a minstrel, bard, or even a retainer around him. It boosted his morale for the moment at least, and the two headed northwest into the treeline, passing up the old ox-path the villagers had used up until the last month. The forest wasn't nearly as foreboding as others Torm had experienced, but he immediately knew it would be easy for a predator or brigand to hide just off the road.

They reached the nook in the path soon enough, the body of the lass and even most of the blood already gone. Torm dismounted Lycurgus, whose ears were up and alert, though the beast showed no signs of distress at the moment. Small indentions in the earth and large impressions of what might be paws were visible beside a large birch. The Knight stood up, looking around the small clearing to see if the tracks led anywhere, but it looked like whatever had been here had just paced the road for a bit, as if it had toyed with its food. The thought disgusted him, wondering just what this creature was. It was at that moment something in the bush moved. Torm was no fey elf, but he still had a keen reaction and leaped back, halfway through unsheathing his sword before he noticed what came out of the thistle wasn't an animal or monster at all, but a small boy!

He had an unfortunate face. Fat cheeked and frowning, wearing a coif hat and holding a sack of cloth like it was a toy. Torm blinked, sighing with a groan and lowering his two-hander. The boy didn't seem scared, merely distraught. He swallowed and coughed. "Are you here to find out what happened to my friend, Gwyn?" He asked, shifting his little booted feet and looking down. Torm glanced at Juliette.

"Is Gwyn one of the Moldie girls?" The knight asked, softer now. He didn't expect to see a child out here, even so close to the village. Torm noticed just how big the child's head was, at least compared to his diminutive, half starved body. A roach scuttled across the kid's shoes, and whether it went up his pants leg or crawled away he couldn't tell.

"Yes, sir. She was here when it happened. I was here too, when the thing showed up."

Torm lifted his head, staring at the boy with eyes wrought of iron. "You were here?" He asked. "What was it?"

"I-..." He started, about to cry. Torm noticed something that he would not forget. The child was struggling with something, true fear in his eyes before it was replaced with rage. Mouth opening impossibly wide, wolfen teeth glinting in the sunlight. The knight knew it was, had been a real child until something took over. The scared boy in front of him had been devoured before his eyes, and what was left was a monster. Torm felt his heart seize, but his instinct kicked in, and as it leaped at him, he cut the thing in half with one stroke of his sword. The boy had leaped in one piece, and fell in two.
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