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Recent Statuses

22 hrs ago
Current Poly was a great friend. I still have screenshots of them, remembering how funny they were. Rest in peace, my friend
6 likes
18 days ago
I think it was just bad
8 likes
19 days ago
Us mods are discussing the problem now
9 likes
20 days ago
A hobbit ghostwrote this
3 likes
21 days ago
I hope you're all ok. It's been a rough few hours for a lot of people, I know.
6 likes

Bio






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!






Me

Most Recent Posts

Ok, Morty said he'd sit this one out. So I'll give an update soon!
Hermann Vulfgang slowed his steed to a trot, the darkened blue cloak he had clad upon him still damp from the rain he had ridden through on his travels. The forest path he now rode upon was all too familiar, and even the grime on his boots and the constant wet did not sour his mood, as he knew he was reaching his destination. Clermount was a quaint little hamlet in Aquitaine, one he had taken up residence in from time to time.

The Dukes and Barons of Brettonia did not trust the mages of the empire, so he preferred his travels were not widely known. He brought healing salves and some food to the serfs of Clermount, and in exchange they allowed him shelter so he could perform various experiments in the woods, without the pesky Witch Hunters sticking their long, pointed noses where they didn't belong. The serfs would be too frightened of his 'wtichcraft' or too grateful for his aid to go and tell their overlords of his presence.

Trotting into the muddy village, he heeled his brown mare, dismounting carefully to not stain his robes. One of the village maidens rushed up to him, grabbing the horses reins. She spoke quickly in Brettonian.

"Yes, good to be back. How have things bee-"

"Errone!" she exclaimed, catching her breath for a moment. "Un grand homme loup est ici, chez Remy!"

"What!?" The Gold wizard swiftly, ushered her off and made his way through the mudcaked road, heeding the ground very little. He tried to think of his best offensive spells, his mind whirring with different incantations on how best to deal with a wolfman. Sigmar, what was such a foul beast of Norsca doing here in Brettonia? Did the dark powers find him? Did his journey to rid the world of foul chaos bring their attention, and this village suffered for it!?

The lock on Remy's door melted by the hinges as if it was so much snow in high summer, and the less than physical mage booted the door in as best he could, cloaked in power to find...a very muscular man eating a whole cooked chicken. The man didn't look too surprised to see him, though he did flinch when the door had been caved in. Needless to say, Hermann felt a bit awkward at that particular moment, not to mention Remy nearly falling out of his chair seeing Hermann breaking his door. "Ma porte! Pourquoi voudriez-vous le détruire!" he cried in dismay.

Hermann gave a quick apology in Brettonian, but his magesight caught his attention. "Who are you?" he asked in Reikspiel, though he felt speaking in his native tongue was a mistake until the... 'man' spoke back in the same language. He looked far too strong and powerful for a normal man, but he couldn't exactly call him anything else. The term 'wolf' had been apt, but it was not the mark of chaos on him that seemed to have him in such a state.

"Cyrdic Becker." he replied, glaring at the Wizard as if the mage would contest the claim. When he didn't, Cyrdic continued. "Of the 9th Ostland."

Hermann did not know where to begin with his questioning. He supposed he'd start at the beginning. "How did you get here, herr Becker?"

"I woke up in the forest, after being a guest in Chateu D'Epee."

"D'Epee..." Hermann echoed, considering. "Interesting. And, would it be rude to ask 'what' you are?"

"How do you mean?" Cyrdic asked, his striking golden eyes glinting with confusion and defensiveness. He stood up, the small chair pushing back against the wall. Hermann realized if the man was wearing armor and no one could see his eyes, perhaps give him a haircut, he could pass as an exceptionally powerful and handsome, even kingly man. But as he was now, he seemed more wild beast than civilized man of the empire, even a province as rough as Ostland.

Cyrdic looked at Remy, and the peasant looked just as confused as he, probably because he spoke very little reikspeil. Hermann sighed, and produced a small mirror from his robe pocket, handing it to Cyrdic who took it slowly. He gazed at his reflection, a hint of shock in his face at the transformation. He had been a strong man before, but now...

"Would you be surprised to learn that you're not the strangest story I heard of today?" Herman told him.



Camilla and her retinue galloped at a leisurely pace, at least compared to the hard riding they done these past few weeks. The day was aging, and the forest of Chalons, while in the middle of the country, was still not the safest place to be. Bandits and the occassional beastmen lurked deeper within the woods, as well as hedge witches the serfs whispered of. Though compared to the Drakwald of the Empire, it was fairly tame.

Beaumont held himself at the ready, lance in the air and his eyes like a hawks. Despite feeling far less honorable this past month before granting his service to Camilla, he still saw it was his duty to protect her, no matter how troublesome she was. The peasants and what Knights were in her service felt a similar way of her, some duty bound to protect her, others smitten, and many were glad to be protected by her, and wished to return the favor.

Within minutes, they made it to their camp. A small patch of ruins atop a forest hill, cleared as a glade save for the stonework. Small cairns were erected at the treeline, small wards given by the more superstitious of the band to keep out the forest spirits that they say dwelled within the deep woods. However, they did not ward against men, and to their surprise, a small band of Knights stood dismounted from their horses at the entrance. Some of them drew themselves up, having just finished eating at Camilla and Beaumont's cookfire.

Camilla had two pistols cocked and aimed at the two men who seemed to be the most kenowned, if their coat of arms and manner were anything to go by. The serfs, emboldened by their recent victory, still did not seem keen on facing the armed Knights. Even Beaumont seemed perturbed by them, and on closer inspection, the left man had an air about him that made him stand head and shoulders above the men that flanked him. In fact, he radiated power. Camilla suddenly knew that even were this man standing stark naked before her, her bullets would not harm him or his steed, a more powerful and noble horse she had never seen in all of her days serving the elector count of Ostland.

"A grail Knight," Beaumont breathed, inclining his head to give the senior Cavalier his due respect. Rather than return it, the Grail Knight did the last thing anyone would have thought possible.

He knelt, placing his glowing sword, alight in his mailed hands, before him. "I have traveled far of late. My dreams have haunted me, and my brothers do not believe the visions the Lady has given me. But now that I stand before you, I have no doubts in my mind. I pledge my life and my sword to you, Contessa De La Trantio. The new Fey Enchantress."
@Penny

I nearly banned you for being an adbot, lmao.
Roland planted himself on the left side of the door, checking the strap on his kite shield to make sure it was tight and steady. The shield was emblazoned with a hammer and anvil sigil signifying his order, and though he wasn't a full Knight, it did give people peace knowing he had been trained by men of the rank. He looked up from his arms and armor and met eyes with Iseldis. She didn't look as full of trepidation as he felt, but he supposed they were both trying to keep cool headed. He gave her a grin, almost fierce. As if to say 'this is what we are here for.'

He turned the Knob, and didn't give the 'creak' of the door the time to give away their position. Instead he busted in, strong shoulders leading with his shield, but rather than knock over a Draugr he bumped into a couch which hit the central table, sending it screeching across the floor. Though it did provide an obstacle for the Draugr that was within the central room, the ghastly thing turning and letting out a dust-filled breath from its decayed lungs.

It had almost nothing left in common with the man it had been in life, save its two arms and legs and a semblance of the equipment it had been buried in. What looked like a worn chain shirt and a helm of hide and bronze. It was its eyes that were the most unnerving thing about it, glowing with blue witch-light that exuded a malevolent intelligence. That, and its teeth were sharp but few, its gums protruding after having bloated in death.

It knocked the chair aside that had been shoved in its way, going round the couch to try and attack Roland, who waited for a moment as it approached before he had a clear shot, and shoulder rushed the thing again. It was stronger than it looked, pushing back, but it had little momentum and hit a desk against the wall, its hip nearly crushed. Roland was sweating, having never fought anything so unnatural in his short career. His skin crawled merely being in the same room as it.

The other Draugr appeared out of the kitchen door, at the foyer the front door had been opened from. It hissed and stretched its arms out, seeing Roland's somewhat exposed back as a sign to attack.
@Luminosity
The comm crackled like popped bubblewrap. Only in the briefest intervals would Sayeeda be able to pick up the odd word or two. Spoken in quick succession and to one another in their native tongue. The volume on the static too a downward spiral, and suddenly the frequency popped and then skyrocketed into a high pitch squeal of a sound, and then silence. Until a clear, cold voice spoke over the comm with an air of confidence.

"Hello." the voice said, obviously accented and rough, but still somewhat cultured in its inflection. "To whom am I speaking to?"

"Captain Cyckali of the Highlander crew." she replied. "Your name and rank?"

There was a silence for a moment, and then an answer. "Raoul Shajar. Colonel."

As Sayeeda was making contact, Neil checked the integrity of the "door" Saxon had made after slamming that slab shut, even welding a bit of it with his multitool to keep it steady, mouth grinning widely at the sight of the flames, giving the youthful man a terrible look to his otherwise charmingly sly features. Behind him, he could hear Sayeeda's answers growing more curt as she had to literally drag out the terms of ceasefire.

"Allow us to leave unharmed and unmolested, and no more of your men need die." She said.

"Or we could allow you to starve." the voice said back. Neil had a feeling whoever Raoul was, he was probably a disgraced Baron having fallen on hard times. "Unless you wish to join us, that is."

"We have a contract with another benefactor. I don't break contracts. Business is business."

"Then you can hardly blame me for not aiding your...benefactor by allowing you to leave."

"If you think-"

Neil had begun to explore the back of the chamber, a memory of a memory bringing him to look for another option. In the wall looked to be an enclosed archway, only there was no door here it seemed. Only the archway, with various archaic pressure points along the wall set in a hexagonal fashion. He gingerly pressed the third to the left, two feet above his head. There was a sudden exhalation of air from an unknown vent, and a small control chamber slid out chest height.

"Hey! Hey big guy!" Neil whispered, drawing Saxon's burning gaze. He motioned for him to come over. The Xenos did begrudgingly, stomping past the interlocking walls to the corner where Neil stood. "What do you want?" He sounded less than pleased, though that was usually the norm. Neil pointed at the wall.

"Bend down and pick it up, will you?" he said.

Saxon just looked at him quizzically. Neil's fingers almost sang a tune as he manned the control console. If his Aelahyne memory served, and it was technically uploaded knowledge so it would serve without fault like a machine. Just a few more seconds and he would have it, but he didn't have the strength to move it. Normally with a stable power source it would, but now?

"What are you bleating about?" Saxon warbled.

"Look!" Neil exclaimed, pointing. The Hexanagallion looked again, and sure enough there was a slit in the wall where there had not been, just next to the floor. Saxon gave Neil one last look of contempt before bending down and placing his great claws upon the fallen wall, lifting it up, inch by grinding inch until it revealed a small inner corridor, lit by a strange red glow that seemed to have no source. As Taya placed a hand over her mouth, Neil grinned wickedly.
@Penny

Cyrdic awoke in a sweat, fingers gripping what he knew to be dirt. The grass tickled his nose, and before he opened his eyes he could still smell the dew that had all but faded away into nothingness. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here, nor where here even was. Tall trees of yew, willow, and beech surrounded him, blooming out of a sea of bushes and vibrant ferns that had apparently been good at hiding his sleeping form.

He perked his head and listened, the birds and wind rustling the leaves, the beetles on the crackling bark, the soft padding of hares in the brush. All were caught in his keen hearing, though it was still subtle. So many soft sounds, he found it hard to think or focus. All he knew was his head felt like someone had split it with an axe.

Wait...

Desperately he felt his abdomen, but could only feel hard muscle. He reached for the small of his back and again, he found no scar. Had he dreamed being run through? No, he hadn't. He remembered the sword point that had punched through his stomach. Segmented, his memory began to flood into him, and as a it did, he looked around the area he slept.

Great mounds of dirt were torn as if by some massive hammer, and the tree he lay at had finger marks. Only...these marks had cut into the very wood. Not even iron tools could have done such a thing. They looked like bear marks. He remembered making them, and he remembered being in control of his actions. Somehow, he had felt the need to expend energy after having slaughtered the old Baron. He could still smell the stained blood.

The sun was warm, but he realized that the night cold had not bothered him over much. Cyrdic's only clothing was his ruined trousers. He had taken his boots off in the night for a reason he couldn't recollect. How long had he been out here? He felt a thick goatee had grown on his chin and above his lip, and his hair had grown wild and unruly. He felt naked, though not because of a lack of clothing. He wanted his sword. Where was it?

Camilla! Where was Camilla?

He gave a rippling growl as he abruptly sat up, which caused a yelp from further down the way. It sounded like a man, and Cyrdic blinked the tiredness of his eyes as he heard soft footsteps approaching. "Ulric, Sigmar; Wolf and Hammer" he grumbled, his voice scratchy from having not spoken in God's knew how long. Or had he howled last night? The Ostland man got to his feet, taking in a deep breath as a peasant man strode into view.

Covered in mud and almost as wild haired as Cyrdic, the man fell back in shock upon seeing Cyrdic standing there, something which almost confused him until he realized finding half naked soldiers in the forest wasn't an everyday occurrence. The man fell onto his rump, scrambling backwards. It was all Cyrdic could do to give a statement in broken Brettonian that he meant no harm. It did help a bit. The man stopped and asked Cyrdic what he wanted.

"Clothes and a meal would be good." he replied.

If only Cyrdic could see himself as the man saw him. Eyes of molten gold, and a sculpted physique even more powerful than he had been. All of this under a mane of wolfish hair.

Two parts fearful of his life and one part awe led the man to bring Cyrdic back to his hovel of a village, which looked to be in even more poor condition than the usual Brettonian fief, with houses made of stone and roofs of naught but straw and some support beams to keep it up, and dried mud to stick it all together. But a well was in use in the center of the settlement, and most of the women and children were somewhat washed. It seemed the men and the younger lads were the ones that were mostly filled with grime.

As Cyrdic was led into the small village, one woman screamed and fainted, and nothing simply stared, though out of fright or admiration at Cyrdic's bare chest it was hard to say. He was quickly led inside, his stomach now driving his entire mind and keeping its focus clear on the food he might get. It was a primal hunger.

"You. lucky." the man said, scrambling through half broken out-of-use boxes, finding a cooked chicken and an apple. "Death in land. Suis capable' get food, oui?"
@Penny
@The Fated Fallen It's true. All of the loud and obnoxious comes from @Stormflyx
But it's ok, she's too pretty to be mad at.
I was just about to post, but I noticed our resident @Mortarion hadn't posted yet. Please do so when you can. It's ok if it's a little one!

Also everyone, we have made it through the weekend. Avengers, GoT, the lamentation of our women. I am proud of us.
This is the biggest weekend of media the past decade tbh. Avenger's Endgame, and GoT's longest episode, which is also the longest filmed battle sequence in media! Love it!
@La Savant "A king may move a man. A father may claim a son. But that man may also move himself. And only then does that man truly begin his own game."

Love the avatar, my friend. Welcome to the site!
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