POOHEAD189

Cinema General

Let's stay civil people.

The All Dawi Party - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

So peeps, where we at?

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

I am currently fairly sick, but I should still give an update post in the next few days!

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Junebug twisted the knob on the comm device, an archaic instrument Neil had left hastily that might be used to communicate with Taya if they got close enough to her. It was a third rate communicator but it was all she had. Realigning the antennae, Taya's voice rang out for but a moment as Saxon climbed the expanse behind her. Jingling the wire, soon she got Taya on the line.

"Captain?"

"Taya! Taya, confirm."

---

The tall, foreboding Sven stood motionless. Neil might be smart enough to run from Saxon, but Saxon didn't necessarily 'scare' him in the base sense of the word. Mostly because Neil often lacked a lot of worry about self preservation. Sven on the other hand...Neil knew him but he could never really read him. He had all of Saxon's simmering anger, with a coldness to him even the Hexanagallion lacked.

"You sure this'll work?" Neil asked him, still feeling some trepidation over the deal he made with him. He hoped Junebug didn't hit him too hard for this.

Sven simply glanced his way, unreadable past his malevolent stare and long Nordic facial hair.

"Alright, jeez." Neil replied, waving him off like Sven had threatened him physically.

"Just get into position." Sven growled lifelessly.

Neil didn't need to be told twice, and despite his second thoughts on making this deal, he knew he would enjoy this next part. Sven had lost his armies and most of his influence, but he was a maverick with machines, something Neil and he had a mutual interest over. On short notice, he had granted Neil access to the MH-350. It sounded more official than it was. Essentially a modified hauler mecha, like the one that stood dormant in the Highlander. This one had extra armor, fully covering the cockpit area, with a rotator gun that fired 300 (20 mm) rounds a minute. On the opposite arm, a large flamer, much like the one Neil had when he fought the Xenonids, was mounted. In addition, it was a better melee fighter, with swifter movement and blades upon the barrels of each gun.

Neil stepped over the cold corpses of the dead sentries Sven had murdered, making his way to the larger archway where the MH-350 waited. As he entered the cockpit, he switched on the comm that linked Sven to the mech. "Alright, ready when you are tall, blonde, and scary."

"On my signal." the grim voice replied back.

"Oh, this is gonna be good." Neil breathed, making a mental note on where every control and handle was. He felt around, instinctively knowing where the normal hauler controls were but having to designate based upon the wiring where the levers that controlled the extra modifications were. "And did he ever ask me if I knew how to drive a stick shift?"

Meanwhile, Sven's calculations hit an inner timer withing the cyborg that set off the mechanism in his brain. In his hand he held a small device, simple by the look of it. A cylinder with a three buttons and a handgrip. As soon as the 'timer' went off, he activated the device, and twitched as the custom electromagnetic pulse swept through the hanger and utterly devoured all optics and communications used by the small army that guarded the Highlander. In fact the devices exploded and burst into flames, shorting out and causing men to fall to their knees or jump in fright at the sudden electronic attack.

"Your move." Sven replied, taking out his own sidearm. A heavily modified handgun, among various upgrades the most obvious was a rebarreling of the gun to allow wildcat cartriges of custom make.

Junebug would suddenly hear a cracking thrum from below, and a reverberating boom as Neil suddenly entered the fray in his small mech, opening fire on the confused and wounded men that suddenly found themselves flanked and under intense fire by an armored opponent. Neil had stepped into the exit, and utterly sliced in half a dozen men with his first pass with the machinegun. Sven stepped out of the back end of the hanger behind the main body, shooting a merc in the head and snapping another one's head back by shoving his cybernetically enhanced fingers into the man's eyes.
@Penny

Silver and Blood: A Warhammer Roleplay

Name: Bronr Beornisson
Character Portrait:

Race: Norse Dwarf
Clan/Faction/Country: Kraka Dorden
Class Descriptor: Dwarf Ranger
Physical Description: Stern and tough like all good Dawi, Bronr's a testament to Dwarfish resolve and hardiness. He has a squat, muscled body (albeit slightly lean compared to some of his heftier kin), with a large nose for sniffing danger and keen eyes for piercing the horizon. His brown beard nearly reaches to his feet, and though he longs for the day to have it brush the ground and gain the title 'Longbeard,' he does fret over it tripping him up and he is quite glad it hasn't reached the point he needs to tuck it in his belt yet. He is heavily armored compared to most scouts, because of the impeccable ore and smithing of the Dwarf holds. He wears a leather jerkin over a gromril chainshirt, with wooden and iron pauldrons and greaves. A blue cloak covers and shrouds his form.
Weapons/Armor and Gear:
Armor

• Gromril Chainshirt
• Steel Pauldrons/Greaves
• Steel helmet (dons if needed)

Weapons

• Az-hafted Thrund (Long rifle with an Axe on the haft)
• Secondary Thrund
• Handgun
• Handaxe

Misc

• Cloak
• Necklace (Wootroth Sigil of Grimnir)
• 3 pounds of jerky
• Flask
• Flask 2
• Flask 3
• Flask just in case he needs a fourth
• Torch
• Flask 5 in case flask 4 runs out. By Grungni he needs a sixth.

Background: Bronr was born and raised in Kraka Dorden to Beorni Throrson and Gunhild Silverdottr. The oldest brother of three sons, he has a hard working, albiet normal upbringing until he reached the age of forty winters, joining the Dwarf militia and becoming a soldier to fight off Norscan raids. It was one fateful expedition when he and his party managed to run across a large Chaos invasion heading toward Kraka Drakk, but their group was discovered. Bronr was the only Dawi to survive, and trek the wilderness across the rugged mountains to warn Kraka Drakk of the impending attack. He found his calling within the wilderness, as well as the various undiscovered caves of the Norscan hills.

He became a hold ranger, and began to patrol the wilderness between Kraka Ornsmotek, Kraka Dorden, and Kraka Drakk, sometimes making forays south into Kraka Ravnvake. He brought news, pelts, and a good axe when needed to wherever he traveled. He always had a story and a need for a flask refill. It was after half of a century that he and small group of Dawi went south to aid the manling's in Praag during a great siege. After they had flanked the chaos horde, he gained a glimpse of the World's Edge Mountains, and his heart soared. He decided he would ask for his oath ot Kraka Dorden to be fulfilled, so he might travel south and explore the lands of the Southern Dawi.

The past twenty years he had made his home in Karaz-A-Karak, wandering to the other holds and gaining a reputation for being able to track anything above or below ground. It was only recently he heard of the retaking of Eight Peaks. He knew they would need his expertise.

Incorrigible - A 'Dark Elves' Roleplay

You have my interest. I don't have a lot of ideas atm but I'll think of some.

Silver and Blood: A Warhammer Roleplay

Dwarf Ranger

Name: Bronr Beornisson
Character Portrait:

Race: Norse Dwarf
Clan/Faction/Country: Kraka Dorden
Class Descriptor: Dwarf Ranger
Physical Description: Stern and tough like all good Dawi, Bronr's a testament to Dwarfish resolve and hardiness. Hhe has a squat, muscled body (albeit slightly lean compared to some of his heftier kin), with a large nose for sniffing danger and keen eyes for piercing the horizon. His brown beard nearly reaches to his feet, and though he longs for the day to have it brush the ground and gain the title 'Longbeard,' he does fret over it tripping him up and he is quite glad it hasn't reached the point he needs to tuck it in his belt yet. He is heavily armored compared to most scouts, because of the impeccable ore and smithing of the Dwarf holds. He wears a leather jerkin over a gromril chainshirt, with wooden and iron pauldrons and greaves. A blue cloak covers and shrouds his form.
Weapons/Armor and Gear:
Armor

• Gromril Chainshirt
• Steel Pauldrons/Greaves
• Steel helmet (dons if needed)

Weapons

• Az-hafted Thrund (Long rifle with an Axe on the haft)
• Secondary Thrund
• Handgun
• Handaxe

Misc

• Cloak
• Necklace (Wootroth Sigil of Grimnir)
• 3 pounds of jerky
• Flask
• Flask 2
• Flask 3
• Flask just in case he needs a fourth
• Torch
• Flask 5 in case flask 4 runs out. By Grungni he needs a sixth.

Background: Bronr was born and raised in Kraka Dorden to Beorni Throrson and Gunhild Silverdottr. The oldest brother of three sons, he has a hard working, albiet normal upbringing until he reached the age of forty winters, joining the Dwarf militia and becoming a soldier to fight off Norscan raids. It was one fateful expedition when he and his party managed to run across a large Chaos invasion heading toward Kraka Drakk, but their group was discovered. Bronr was the only Dawi to survive, and trek the wilderness across the rugged mountains to warn Kraka Drakk of the impending attack. He found his calling within the wilderness, as well as the various undiscovered caves of the Norscan hills.

He became a hold ranger, and began to patrol the wilderness between Kraka Ornsmotek, Kraka Dorden, and Kraka Drakk, sometimes making forays south into Kraka Ravnvake. He brought news, pelts, and a good axe when needed to wherever he traveled. He always had a story and a need for a flask refill. It was after half of a century that he and small group of Dawi went south to aid the manling's in Praag during a great siege. After they had flanked the chaos horde, he gained a glimpse of the World's Edge Mountains, and his heart soared. He decided he would ask for his oath ot Kraka Dorden to be fulfilled, so he might travel south and explore the lands of the Southern Dawi.

The past twenty years he had made his home in Karaz-A-Karak, wandering to the other holds and gaining a reputation for being able to track anything above or below ground. It was only recently he heard of the retaking of Eight Peaks. He knew they would need his expertise.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

They were up shit creek without a paddle. Any other day or time, if he found himself in a similar hell as this he would let Saxon go on a rampage. But unfortunately he was too damaged and too outnumbered to really make a difference. Their normal tactics of Neil playing the distraction with well timed shots as Sayeeda mowed them down from various positions wouldn't work either. "Think..." he breathed, speaking to himself. "Think, think, think, think, think."

Saxon growled at the mere sound of his hated quarry's voice, still wondering why he doesn't simply slaughter Neil now and throw the woman to the men below. Though the sound logic of teaming up rushed in to fill the void left by his irrational anger and he calmed himself. He was nothing if not patient. He had to be in his line of work.

"-think, think, think, think, think, think, think-"

Sayeeda elbowed him in the side of the head, subsequently knocking sense into him. Neil's head snapped to the side, and as if by an electric shock, he got it. "I can fix this..." he heard, and realized it was himself talking. "I can fix this? Wait I can." He just needed to call in a favor. Maybe it would make up for the part he played in all this, though he thought it was a little too unfair to blame himself for this entire farce, but still. Always good to cover your bases.

"You two go to the roof. I'll meet you there." He said, sliding back to fall off their elevated position.

"Neil, wait! What are you...." Junebug groaned when she realized he was already gone. Her eyes met Saxon's. "Sometimes I feel like killing him too."

Neil made his way into one of the many entrances to the hanger that led out into the greater Presidium. It was a bit less crowded than earlier, probably because of the recent violence by Gnorlaac's men. He was the big boss around here, so it made sense. Still, violence was the norm so the entire market square wasn't completely devoid of life or activity. But he only needed one man's help.

Sven's bionic eye gleamed for but a moment, identifying Neil before the pilot even knew he was there.
@Penny

Silver and Blood: A Warhammer Roleplay

I'll have my character ready by tomorrow night!

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world! [REBOOTED] [FULL]

Still here!