POOHEAD189

East meets West (SlashInfinite & POOHEAD189 1x1)

Like a tide of flame, the men of the west marched out of the forest with torches with gleaming helmets and swords. It was slow and ominous, but make no mistake, for they were here. "_{Get those engines in place!}" one voice could be heard from far off. "_{Get moving! Form ranks!}" another called. Just out of bowshot, the men began to form up in rough lines. 40 men across, and 10 men deep were the ranks. The Cavarly stayed to the side, ready to take any advantage they could from the coming battle.

One single torched moved out of the army of men below the walls, riding up closer to the gates. It was Rylen the crusader. He reined his horse in, and to those watching, they could see he simply looked up at the battlements. "Hail! Fortress of the pass!" he called, his words echoing across the valley and walls. "We come to take this pass in the name of our God and people! It was not we who cast the first stone, but that very stone has begun an avalanche that will bury your world if you oppose us!"

He let his words sink in, before continuing. "You need not die today!" he explained. "We give free passage to any who wish to leave. We want to the pass, not your lives. Flee, and you will be spared. Stay, and once we break through, those who attempt to flee later will be given no quarter. Choose now."
@SlashInfinite

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

Flying machines can be prevalent in a land based game of strategy and warfare, and they also aren't game changers. A Dwarf in a gyrocopter can be killed by a volley of arrows, or a cannon, or a catapult, or yes indeed, a Griffon rider. Ships however, need water, and no one but you two will be using them. Which was the point. Clock began this game with a specific set of standards in mind, and people deviating from that, no matter how pointless, can change how people view the game, whether or not they need to add anything to their sheet.

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

Honestly, I say let's just skip ships. The GM and most of us aren't going to use them. You guys would have them and they'd remain unused for the majority, if not the entirety of the RP. This is a very land based game, and the GM is against it. Nuff said.

I would also say it's not equivalent to no ships in 40k. We can easily travel to each other's nations on foot in this RP. Space ships are a must in 40k.

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

Branack of the Lonely Mountain

Ah, the tales of woe from Branack's father's father's father of the time when the shadow was cast upon the whole of Khazad-dum. That was where the story of the Dwarf's kinsfolk began. For the great grandfather Narin of Khazad-dum and his group of Dwarves fled to the Lonely Mountain, accompanying the honorable Thrain I.

Laden with sorrow and defeat, the hearty Dwarves nevertheless set to work almost immediately, building their Kingdom that not only began to grow, but thrive! Branack was born in this Kingdom, rife with commerce, crafts, and the hewing of rock. It was in the latter that he began his career, starting his long history of wielding the pick at age 30 (still quite young for a Dwarf, mind you!).

For thirty winters after his thirtieth year, he hacked and carved the stone, finding precious minerals for his Kingdom and Kin alike. Branack was found to be a tireless worker, as well as a fine song writer all things considered. His father made him a special war mattock on his fiftieth year of life, the year a Dwarf's beard reaches his belt. Oh, and this Dwarf had a great black beard that blended into his dark tunic.

Branack never thought he'd need to use his father's weapon, but it was a call from his 3rd cousin Galin in the Grey Mountains that sent word of a great incursion of Goblins that had arisen deep in the mountains. No call to war was raised by Erebor, but volunteers could be sent over to help quell this threat. With the pride of a son of Aulë, the young Khazad and a force of 300 rough and ready Dwarves marched to the Grey mountains night and day.

It was a brief but dark struggle under the halls of the Grey Mountains. With Axe and Hammer and Pick and even Sword did they fight! Cleaving and dying in the darkness of the tunnels against the foul Goblins of the mountain. Branack made a fine accounting of himself, having slain near a dozen over the course of the fighting, and two years later the small war had ended. The Goblin chieftan Nazruk had been slain by Thrain's cousin Fwalin of the Longbeards.

Branack was seventy two now, and as he made his way back to his home, he realized just how wide the world was outside of the Lonely Mountain and the halls he hewed rock in. He began to visit the men of Laketown, and began to help in trade between them and the Lonely mountain, selling his father's wares and learning a bit of his father's craft. It was nearing his 90th winter when he received word of a great threat in the south, and a letter to visit Aldburg.

With an unerring sense of duty, and his desire of travel being sated with this mission, he set out at once, his War mattock at his shoulder and a firm look of rock and steel in his eyes. "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

@gcoldI got no problems with that. Sounds good^^.
Just let me know what I need to change so I can get it over with though, when you can.

Post Your Pikcha

@TheMadAsshatterYou look like an irl friend I used to hang with. Good luck btw. You'll do well, I think.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Markus 'Renegade' Valerius

Markus 'Renegade' Valerius

Male Imperial| 24 | The Thief

Basic Information

Birthplace:Anvil, Cyrodiil

Appearance: Some might consider him having a dangerous look, and others might think him handsome. His reputation has bred such tales of either to their extremes. In simple terms, Markus is a lean and trim younger man, with olive skin from both his heritage, and the sun that beats upon the city of Anvil. His hair is dark, and his eyes are a curious mixture of blue that can almost change to iron grey in the right lighting. He has a fine chin, with a few lines under his eyes due to the late nights he often endures. His knuckles and palms are callused and rough.

Personality: Markus is both sides of the coin. On the one hand, the young vigilante sees the world in a black and white, idealistic sort of way. He firmly believes that what makes a hero different from a normal person isn't the strength of their arm, but the fact they are willing to make action on behalf of good where others would simply turn their heads and leave the wicked to their machinations. He fancies himself akin to a Knight of the common people.

Of course, on the other hand, he has a mischievous independent streak. Markus is a risk taker, and he has a love of thievery. He spent so much time trying to catch thieves and ne'er-do-wells, that he seemed to learn their ways a bit too thoroughly. He had to survive on thievery every now and then, and does his best to make sure he only does it to live if he runs out of funds. He's an unapologetic risk taker and trouble maker. He often goes to bed at night in a more sombre mood, remember how crazy he acted mere hours earlier and scolding himself.

Much of his personality on either side is due to his past pain and anger. He seeks to exact the justice that is due to those who deserve it, knowing that if there had been someone like him all those years ago, perhaps his family would be alive. He also tends to find solace in stunts, jokes, and merry making to numb the pain of his dreams that haunt him to this day.

Markus also has a great desire to learn the art of magic someday. He's just simply never had the time to pursue the interest.

Background: Markus was the son of a Steward, growing up in Anvil beside the Abecean sea. His father, Cyrdic Valerius, married to Isolde Valerius, was a former Imperial soldier and had fought in the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Mete Empire as a Quartermaster. Known for his tactful and responsible nature, as well as being personal friends with the Count of Anvil, he was granted the position of Steward to watch over Umbranox's affairs once he had returned home.

Markus was raised to follow in his father's footsteps as Steward, but the eccentric little fellow was always most curious on his father's 'northern adventures' and the trip home. He'd always want to touch Cyrdic's twin steel swords that were mounted above the hearth in their moderately sized home. He had a penchant for playing around the docks with his friends and question sailors of various races on who they were and what their destinations were to.

When Markus was 12 years old, he and his mother received news from a courier that his father had been slain by Marauders as Cyrdic had been overseeing a shipment of prized goods heading towards the capital. Isolde couldn't find her son in his room, and found him within the central quarters of their home, clutching his father's two swords with tears staining his cheeks.

Unable to afford their home any longer, Count Umbranox allowed them to stay in their Palace as honored guests for the rest of their days to honor their loss and to prove friendship. Due to his father's untimely death and his sudden move, Markus began to feel lost in the world, finding solace in an independence streak that worried his mother. Upon his insistence, he learned swordplay from the master-at-arms and developed a light footed quickness from his forays to the docks at night. He'd regret giving his mother something to fret about, for it seemed like his life was one bad incident after another. His mother had fallen ill after dinner and passed away 10 nights after his 18th birthday. It seemed after inspection, her goblet had been poisoned, and the authorities suspected the assassination attempt had actually been aimed at the count.

Markus had had enough, and made it his personal goal to find out who would try to assassinate his patron and who was responsible for his mother's death. He went to work, reaching out to his less than savory friends at the docks, particularly a Khajit informant named Ji'Dar. He got the name 'Renegade' during that time, a fun little nickname the lower class had dubbed this high class ne'er-do-well. It took them almost 2 years to track down the culprit, and it wasn't an Altmer assassin from the Dominion. It was a disgruntled businessman who had felt like he'd been taken advantage of from the Count's taxes. With surety of his search and contact information, but unable to give hard evidence that this was the culprit, Markus couldn't help himself.

He killed the man himself, and fled Anvil. He only left a note behind, confessing his guilt but relaying that he wasn't evil at heart. He traveled northward, making his way past Kvatch (and thieving a few bandits there at nightfall). While this was a risky but relatively minor event, it struck a chord in him that would reverberate through his life. Not a week had passed since he had taken his first life. The life of the one who had taken his mother away from him. And now he was stealing from those whom were most akin to what had killed his father, and he had dealt them justice outside of the law. Feelings of purpose flooded into his thoughts, and he realized this was what he was meant to do.

He made his way north into the Capital City and began his career as a thief, and a very picky Sellsword, going by the Alias he had been dubbed in Anvil, 'Renegade.' He also made a small living scouring the Ayleid ruins within the sewers for trinkets. It was age 22 when he met Elenwyl, a lovely Altmer woman who had made her way into the Capital to become an acrobat and performer. It took him less than 4 months for them to become lovers. While many of his contacts and drinking companions questioned him for falling for an "Aldermi Bitch," the fact that she was a forbidden fruit was what initially drove him to her. But soon he was entranced by her wit and charm, and she supported his crazy antics. While had did not begin training in such, it was there that he began his fascination with magic. He felt as if he could solve many of the problems he faced if he had ever learned to become a great mage, and put that on his to do list.

The next part of his life was the hardest he had ever experienced, for one day the woman he grew to love went missing. He had come home to his apartment, his window open and a note on his bed in flowing script that informed him Elenwyn had grown tired of him and his antics. She had fled the city, and over the next month he couldn't help himself and he had to find her. He had to question her on why she had left. When he wasn't on the trail for her, he was in the Arena, his already lacking self preservation having become near nonexistent. After a month of looking, his resources led him into a conclusion that shook him to his very core. It had been a lie, and she had been murdered for not paying back a loan to an unsavory sort of businessman. One whom Markus trusted...

He left the Capital city a month later, traveling northward once more with another kill under his belt. He couldn't take the Empire anymore, and ran as far and as fast as he could, as northward as he could. In his childhood, North had always meant 'foreign' and 'fantastical' to him from his father's stories. He would go further, and found himself in Whiterun at age 24, having settled down after a long journey and setting up a fledgling information network there, before he received word of a man called Ashav looking for recruits in Dawnstar...

Capabilities

Skills:

• Expert: Dual (one handed) Blades
• Adept: Acrobatics
• Adept: Athletics
• Apprentice: Sneak
• Apprentice: Mercantile
• Apprentice: Speechcraft
• Novice: Block
• Novice: Light armor
• Novice: Unarmed

Weaknesses:
Wanted Man: He's got a contract on his arrest in Anvil and the Imperial City.
Vigilante: When he sees a situation where he can exact street justice, he has a very hard time not doing it.
Risk Taker: When he sees a problem that can be solved by something risky....he has a very hard time not doing it.

Spells:

Relations and Affiliations:

Other Capabilities:

Inventory

Categories

Cash: 189 Septims

Keys and Lockpicks: 29 lock picks

Tools and Crafting Materials:

Clothing and Armor: Linen shirt, leather breeches, worn leather tunic over iron chain maul hauberk.

Weapon and Ammunition: Fine Imperial Sword (2). Iron Dagger

Potion and Arcane Supplies: Healing Potions (3)

Jewelry, Valuables and Personal Belongings: Amethyst (3), Diamonds (2).

Books and Documents: Bounty List, List of known thieves, journal.

Food, Drinks and Ingredients: Elk flank (2), 1 Water bottle

Load Bearing Equipment: Coin Pouch.

Other:

While I still have one or two things to do, I have a rough outline of my second character done if people want to check him out. I was reading over other character sheets for reference the other day (namely Rozes and Mortarions) so that's why I up and liked them lol.

Also, for contacts and affiliations, I'm wondering if I'd need to add specific names in my history (I will definitely add specific names in the list) because my guy had quite a few contacts and I don't think it would be...what's the word, needed(?) to add how he knows the baker who feeds him gossip, or what have you.

Warhammer 40K: Beyond the Law - A Mercenary Adventure

Hider

@AustronautI'd be perfectly willing to nerd out on books, but this isn't the place, you're right.

A Kroot might also be a viable option, other than men.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Calanon (& Brogach)

Location:The Road
Interacting with: His friends

Calanon narrowed his gaze, looking very much the part of a young hero with his gleaming sword and shield. He didn't speak at first, however. He was not the leader of this group, and Kyra seemed quite capable of handling the situation at hand, and she did. But he couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting into untrusting territory. He had fought the Orcs for most of his life. He was no bigot or racist, but it was odd to call them allies to say the least.

"You honor us with this offer." Calanon said, speaking up. He sheathed his sword, and gave a bow. He seemed visually uneasy to those who cared to examine him, but he made his best to look the part of an agreeable party. He was certain that if anything were to happen with the Orcs, he and Brogach could take care of themselves. He was certain Gretchin would be safe as well. For once, he agreed with her untrusting nature, and he knew she would be out of danger as much as possible. Their little Raven friend would stay near Brogach hopefully. He would protect them all with his life, as well as his new companions.

He let out a sigh, and gripped his left arm idly. It was a strange gesture, gripping the arm covered by a long sleeve. He knew that it would tell him if dark magic was being weaved anywhere close. He would use his failing as a comrade to be an advantage to his new ones. He would protect them.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Vanya gave a light scowled at Yaroslav, and waved her free hand hand dismissively. She was indeed powerful in magic, for she had given no incantation nor looked to have even paid much attention, and the man's clothing was mystically wiped clean within moments. "If you choose to stay and travel in this group, that means being unassuming. Someone covered in blood will be quite the eye sore. In all honesty, if it were up to me, I would go myself and bring a contingent of Silver Knights with me, but it isn't my decision."

Her glowing orbs met Alice's when she spoke, and inclined her head with the barest movement. Respect for a fellow (and sane) magic user, if nothing else. "I do not know if what you have heard is or is not rumors, but I was not aware of any Vampire covens here for some time, though of course, things can change. Riverhope is no weaker than it ever was, in truth. But as you all know, Torek is dangerous at the best of times."

She gripped her mystical staff with both hands, and gave an ethereal summoning word that somehow dimmed the light of the fires around the tavern common room without snuffing them out. In unison, a small image began to form above her diamond headed scepter, as if they were gazing into a looking glass. Before them was a thick forest of tall trees, with no sign of civilization in the picture save one single tower. It was a structure tall and strong, with well carved stone and a shimmering power to it beyond reckoning. Only...freshly mangled corpses were hung from the windows. Bleeding human and Elven skins were stapled by spears along the stones, and debauchery and vice of the worst sort were being performed by firelight from within judging from the shadows viewed from the window, and screams that echoed within the halls. The Image flowed downward, until they saw the forest floor that was streaming with scarred barbarians, feral demons, and Death Knights wearing armor made of black iron and wielding blades of hell metal. The image dissipated shortly after...

"These are dark times." she said as the light returned to the room, her words carrying intense and ominous weight. "The last of the Mythic towers of Vigilance, used to guard the Dreadlands, have been corrupted by the Demons beyond. Orcs have grown more agitated from the recent wars of the north, growing ever bolder and wilder. And now this menace has arisen to face us. If I were to recite all of the threats of this world, we would be here for quite some time. It is up to you...a task given by my sister the Queen, to embark upon this quest and disrupt this ritual that will destroy this city. Succeed, and you can ask my sister of anything you so desire, and will receive your weight in golds and jewels. Do you accept?"
@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen@Lacks@BCTheEntity@Luminosity