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He's lying
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aw fuck you RoadkilBanana
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Kuro is right, Elite. That counts as spam. Please do not do that
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I am currently at work but tonight I will be making the proper warnings and reprimands
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Alright, we're all going to stop talking about this right now. Any further comment will get a warning, and any comment after that will be reprimanded.
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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
Also a seriously boss move to include another Johann character
Agreed. 4 Johans are not what I knew I needed.
Also if anyone would like to collaborate with Burundi now, I am open to do one.
"Ladies, gentlemen and strangers from distant lands,"
Channeling Elrond I see
@NecroKnight You may put her in the character tab.
What do you get when two Brettonians, a sister of Shallya, a Halfing, a Sigmarite Priest, and a Dwarf tanner walk into a bar?
I hope JB tells me bc I don't know
I hope JB tells me bc I don't know
To say that a heavily laden Dwarf dragging in a known highwayman was not what Feitz, the city watchmen on duty, thought he would see today was an understatement. But the squat bearded thing hadn't even knocked! He had the good manners to lift up the wounded bloke, but it took a minute for Feitz to even believe the Dwarf hadn't committed assault on a townsman, much less get the guard to open one of the cells for him. He sifted through his four keys before he found the right one, and opened the last cell at the very end, just so if his Captain asked, the bandit had been there the whole time.
"No sorry, I can't pay you." Feitz said, looking from the wound of the criminal to the Dwarf eyeing him from waist height. Burundi himself simply let out a haggard sigh, expecting as much but still disappointed all the same.
It was a dangerous world, and even in Riekland there was plenty of conflict in the wooded areas. But Feitz himself had never seen any combat. He'd only been in the service for two years. The most intimidating thing about him was the single hair that grew out of his chin like a lone whisker. After seeing a shot man, he was a bit on edge. "Look, why don't you speak to the mayor tomorrow? Try a room at the Maw down the street. He might give you something for your troubles." He pulled at his shirt collar, hoping the Dwarf would leave.
After another moment of the Dwarf scrutinizing him to see if he was lying, Burundi shrugged. "You're welcome. Glad to be of service." He said.
"May the hammer watch you." Feitz said.
"My people made that hammer you worship so much."
"What?"
The Dwarf was already out of the door, squinting against the setting sun. The rain from the other day had been rough, but he and the Umgi had come from another direction. Good lad, though a bit dim. He was hoping he could see the boy again before he left, but there was no sign of him and Burundi needed a place to set his materials and goods. The items near bursted out of the sack over his shoulder, and he grabbed a hold of his poleaxe he'd left leaning by the door, using it as a casual walking stick.
As he stepped off the porch of gaol, he marveled at how such tall people built such short structures. No Karak had any public chamber that wasn't four Dwarfs high. But judging by these well made roads of dirt and heavily guarded roads of brigands, it was probably good that they made buildings sturdy enough to use as homes. The pole axe plodded along the ground as he stepped, staying out of the way of passing wagons and horses and making his way straight toward the tavern. He sincerely hoped they had a cask of Bugman's.
The door flew open, and Burundi's surprised gave way to a guilty smile. He laughed. "Seven years above ground and I forget how light wooden doors are." He said loud enough for some of the locals to hear. He truly hoped he didn't have to pay for any damages, but with a quick inspection he was satisfied that he didn't harm the doors integrity. Burundi grunted and turned around to gauge where the bar was, only to notice a concentration of manlings was over by the fire.
"Hey, barman!" Burundi called, suddenly turning to the Innkeeper who's attention snapped to the Dawi. The man had been conversing with a warrior priest of their Sigmar God. Good fighters and fine company they were, as far as Umgis went. "Grab me a pint of your finest ale my good manling, and I mean your finest ale! And a room for a night!" He produced a gold crown out of his pocket and tossed it to the man. A tenth of that brew better be pure alcohol now, by Grungni I want to sleep well tonight, he thought to himself.
He continued on toward the gathered group by the fire, and to his surprise he saw a Halfing there. He'd only seen two in his seventy years, and both had been less than honest, but good cooks.
There was an odd mixture of people gathered round, with even a few Brettonians if he didn't miss his guess. Most found it hard to distinguish between these and the Umgi from the Empire, but he had a knack for these sorts of things. Not for the first time did he think of writing a book on human culture one day.
The Dwarf stepped between a woman and a man, and without meaning to he practically shouldered his way into the enclosed circle. What lay before him was a broken boy, breathing shallow and worn with blood and scarring. Immediately, his face fell. Dwarf or man, he hated when children were subject to such harsh pain. Little comfort it was knowing how flimsy people of the Empire were. Maybe if this were a beardling he'd live but he couldn't imagine such a wretched thing to survive. He tried to think of the most diplomatic way to put it.
"Oh," he grunted, looking up at the five present. "He's going to die."
"No sorry, I can't pay you." Feitz said, looking from the wound of the criminal to the Dwarf eyeing him from waist height. Burundi himself simply let out a haggard sigh, expecting as much but still disappointed all the same.
It was a dangerous world, and even in Riekland there was plenty of conflict in the wooded areas. But Feitz himself had never seen any combat. He'd only been in the service for two years. The most intimidating thing about him was the single hair that grew out of his chin like a lone whisker. After seeing a shot man, he was a bit on edge. "Look, why don't you speak to the mayor tomorrow? Try a room at the Maw down the street. He might give you something for your troubles." He pulled at his shirt collar, hoping the Dwarf would leave.
After another moment of the Dwarf scrutinizing him to see if he was lying, Burundi shrugged. "You're welcome. Glad to be of service." He said.
"May the hammer watch you." Feitz said.
"My people made that hammer you worship so much."
"What?"
The Dwarf was already out of the door, squinting against the setting sun. The rain from the other day had been rough, but he and the Umgi had come from another direction. Good lad, though a bit dim. He was hoping he could see the boy again before he left, but there was no sign of him and Burundi needed a place to set his materials and goods. The items near bursted out of the sack over his shoulder, and he grabbed a hold of his poleaxe he'd left leaning by the door, using it as a casual walking stick.
As he stepped off the porch of gaol, he marveled at how such tall people built such short structures. No Karak had any public chamber that wasn't four Dwarfs high. But judging by these well made roads of dirt and heavily guarded roads of brigands, it was probably good that they made buildings sturdy enough to use as homes. The pole axe plodded along the ground as he stepped, staying out of the way of passing wagons and horses and making his way straight toward the tavern. He sincerely hoped they had a cask of Bugman's.
The door flew open, and Burundi's surprised gave way to a guilty smile. He laughed. "Seven years above ground and I forget how light wooden doors are." He said loud enough for some of the locals to hear. He truly hoped he didn't have to pay for any damages, but with a quick inspection he was satisfied that he didn't harm the doors integrity. Burundi grunted and turned around to gauge where the bar was, only to notice a concentration of manlings was over by the fire.
"Hey, barman!" Burundi called, suddenly turning to the Innkeeper who's attention snapped to the Dawi. The man had been conversing with a warrior priest of their Sigmar God. Good fighters and fine company they were, as far as Umgis went. "Grab me a pint of your finest ale my good manling, and I mean your finest ale! And a room for a night!" He produced a gold crown out of his pocket and tossed it to the man. A tenth of that brew better be pure alcohol now, by Grungni I want to sleep well tonight, he thought to himself.
He continued on toward the gathered group by the fire, and to his surprise he saw a Halfing there. He'd only seen two in his seventy years, and both had been less than honest, but good cooks.
There was an odd mixture of people gathered round, with even a few Brettonians if he didn't miss his guess. Most found it hard to distinguish between these and the Umgi from the Empire, but he had a knack for these sorts of things. Not for the first time did he think of writing a book on human culture one day.
The Dwarf stepped between a woman and a man, and without meaning to he practically shouldered his way into the enclosed circle. What lay before him was a broken boy, breathing shallow and worn with blood and scarring. Immediately, his face fell. Dwarf or man, he hated when children were subject to such harsh pain. Little comfort it was knowing how flimsy people of the Empire were. Maybe if this were a beardling he'd live but he couldn't imagine such a wretched thing to survive. He tried to think of the most diplomatic way to put it.
"Oh," he grunted, looking up at the five present. "He's going to die."
Looks like I will have the chance to post tonight anyway. Good thing too its a real manlingfest in here
@Jb I was busy today (monday) and was planning on reading through everything and posting tomorrow, but if you post before me, go ahead and include my character so I don't need to play catch up, my good man.
Dax atm
The water was now boiling, and every few moments another potato was dropped inside of the pot. Normally, the Saxhleel would feel too exposed setting up such a camp. He usually cooked in the middle of the forest, where the fire was blotted out by thick oak and the smoke wafted through the parted canopy above. But here, in the old mer ruins west of Bruma, walls sufficiently covered most lines of sight to him, and he had long since made sure no one else had set up here.
Once the potatoes were sufficiently boiling, he turned and checked on the caribou he had killed. He opened the beast's cut abdomen, and reached inside to feel for its stomach. Clawed hands brushed against a bloated are, and he knew he had found the correct chamber, one of the four they had in their stomach. Within, the flank cuts and tenderloin he had placed within were nearly thoroughly pickled within the multitude of vegetables the animal had eaten over the last two days.
It was an old trick he'd learned among his travels, pickling meat into a dish within the stomach. It provided all the nutrients one needed, and it tasted well for even the Landstrider's picky palate. The moon was half concealed above, casting down a ghastly light on the ferociously marred Argonian warrior. Daixanos' tail flapped idly as he checked the food, and once it was ready, he poured the boiling water out of the pot and into a flask, and poured the stomach contents along with the beef he had inserted in there within the pot filled with potatoes.
The pot was far from cool, but the Argonian's leathery and callused scaled gave him some protection as he began to dig in, maw first. If he weren't sitting cross legged (and if he wore no clothing) he could easily be mistaken for a Daedroth by his snout and the way he consumed his food. He needed to eat fast, however. He wished to make it to Bruma by morning, and that meant he had to leave before dawn broke on the horizon.
Once his stomach was full, he cleaned his area and took the Elk into the wilderness to share with the forest. As he did so, he thanked the Hist for this bounty he had been given, and once more he looked east. His bow strung and his axe used as a walking stick, as he knew how much men grew wary if he carried it in any way that wasn't casual, he approached the outskirts of the nordic city as the sun warmed his scales, peaking over the mountains from behind him.
The city was well built with stone, with roofs and architecure much akin to those he saw in Skyrim. It brought back a small melancholy to Dax, as if he felt the cold north was a home away from his humid and hot swampland to the south. Perhaps he would feel comfortable here, answering the summons for his aid in this new guild he had heard tell of.
As he stepped through the entrance, a bored looking man at the ass end of middle age looked up at his clipboard. Dax cleared his throat. "Adventurer's guild?" he asked. The Imperial was about to ask who was entering Bruma when he looked up to see see a savage Argonian, armed to the teeth with skin the color of dried blood. While Dax wasn't oblivious to the man's surprise and trepidation, he played ignorant, because he truly didn't care. As long as the man didn't have a bounty on his head, he didn't need to be feared.
"Adventurer's Guild?" he asked again.
"T-that way, good sir. Have a nice day."
Once the potatoes were sufficiently boiling, he turned and checked on the caribou he had killed. He opened the beast's cut abdomen, and reached inside to feel for its stomach. Clawed hands brushed against a bloated are, and he knew he had found the correct chamber, one of the four they had in their stomach. Within, the flank cuts and tenderloin he had placed within were nearly thoroughly pickled within the multitude of vegetables the animal had eaten over the last two days.
It was an old trick he'd learned among his travels, pickling meat into a dish within the stomach. It provided all the nutrients one needed, and it tasted well for even the Landstrider's picky palate. The moon was half concealed above, casting down a ghastly light on the ferociously marred Argonian warrior. Daixanos' tail flapped idly as he checked the food, and once it was ready, he poured the boiling water out of the pot and into a flask, and poured the stomach contents along with the beef he had inserted in there within the pot filled with potatoes.
The pot was far from cool, but the Argonian's leathery and callused scaled gave him some protection as he began to dig in, maw first. If he weren't sitting cross legged (and if he wore no clothing) he could easily be mistaken for a Daedroth by his snout and the way he consumed his food. He needed to eat fast, however. He wished to make it to Bruma by morning, and that meant he had to leave before dawn broke on the horizon.
Once his stomach was full, he cleaned his area and took the Elk into the wilderness to share with the forest. As he did so, he thanked the Hist for this bounty he had been given, and once more he looked east. His bow strung and his axe used as a walking stick, as he knew how much men grew wary if he carried it in any way that wasn't casual, he approached the outskirts of the nordic city as the sun warmed his scales, peaking over the mountains from behind him.
The city was well built with stone, with roofs and architecure much akin to those he saw in Skyrim. It brought back a small melancholy to Dax, as if he felt the cold north was a home away from his humid and hot swampland to the south. Perhaps he would feel comfortable here, answering the summons for his aid in this new guild he had heard tell of.
As he stepped through the entrance, a bored looking man at the ass end of middle age looked up at his clipboard. Dax cleared his throat. "Adventurer's guild?" he asked. The Imperial was about to ask who was entering Bruma when he looked up to see see a savage Argonian, armed to the teeth with skin the color of dried blood. While Dax wasn't oblivious to the man's surprise and trepidation, he played ignorant, because he truly didn't care. As long as the man didn't have a bounty on his head, he didn't need to be feared.
"Adventurer's Guild?" he asked again.
"T-that way, good sir. Have a nice day."
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