POOHEAD189

Has "Casual" become the new "Advanced"?

I did move a roleplay from casual to free because someone (I forgot who) pointed out their posts were 3 sentences tops. I checked and double checked and it was the case, so I switched it. If you find a casual roleplay that has more in posts than the advanced section, let us know because we should switch it.

Has "Casual" become the new "Advanced"?

I have to ask...what roleplays are you in?

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Fetzen good luck bud. No pressure if you cant think up something. :)

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

Speak to an Elder God, got it.

@Penny

I have an irking suspicion that Odin is going to be sporting tentacles in this roleplay.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

My Character

When not in his modern apparel

Name: Edgar "Stormraven" Stormhrafn, known as the Azure, also called Alfrikr

Age: 206

Appearance: With the look of a healthy man of around 65 to 70 years, Edgar bears himself like a man of importance. People often give him a wide berth as even their inept senses can perceive a quality of power about him, and he frequently appreciates others stopping to listen to his wizened voice when he speaks. Despite that, he's not a striking man; save for his grey iron eyes and well groomed, white beard. The mystic wears a worn, long sleeved jacket; dark blue in color. He collects most of his shirts and trousers from shelters and thrift stores. Apart from his navajo belt and two rings, most of his trinkets change daily depending upon a variety of factors. He also uses a Shillelagh as a walking stick.

Apparel when researching/entertaining elder entities within his home

Concept: Elderly Wizard

Powers/skills:

• The Norse practices of magic: Galdr & Seidr
• Alchemy
• Basic military training from time served in the Schleswig Wars, and WW1.
• Practiced in melee combat, particularly blunt weapons like the Shillelagh.

Things Your Character Wants to Happen (probably wont):

• To find the secrets of immortality.
• To find a successor worthy of his patience.
• To tame a Sea Serpent
• To speak to one of the old gods.

Things You as a Writer Wants to Happen (Maybe will):

• Any of that stuff above would be sick.
• Dispelling curses/aberrations/demons.
• Beating up young people.

Writing Sample?
You have my resume.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅 & 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

Harun seemed apprehensive, but only because he had heard plenty of stories of jobs too good to be true being offered to commoners who they could dispose of once the task was done. He wouldn't let any sort of wariness keep him from a potential prize, though. The job seemed easy enough, and he stood there transfixed in thought for a few moments longer until, arms crossed, he agreed with a nod. He had to take a chance, every once in awhile.

"I'm not sure why this lamp might keep you beholden, but as long as you pay up we shouldn't have any problems." He said. This woman was obviously keeping something to herself, but not in a sinister way wish was all he truly cared about. "You still haven't told me exactly how we, or I, would get into the palace and fetch this thing for you. I can fight a guard or three, but an entire palace full of them isn't something I can handle."

Granted, he hadn't specified what he would wish with from her offer. Who was this woman who could give him whatever he desired? She was beautiful enough to be a princess. Did that mean she had royal power? Maybe it was some edict of the Sultan that kept her from obtaining this lamp. "Let me decide after I grab ahold of the lamp, although I can promise you I don't want to be skulking in streets anymore at night or fighting over food."

He turned away from her then, almost angered at her for being so clean and casually wealthy. She likely thought him worthless, but then he couldn't blame her. He often felt worthless in the grand scheme of things. He knew what he looked like in his reflection, scarred and dirt stained. The street rat clenched his fist.

No more.

The Sinful Stars

The Ducal guard's face was grave as he considered his options. He hadn't felt pressure like this in weeks. The man's mates were silent as the crypts, awaiting his decision. He breathed out, and made his decision with a pointed finger.

Quietly, he uttered. "Pancreator... grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can-"

"And the money to split the difference!" His mates roared, and they raised their glasses in a toast that clinked audibly. Choosing their drink of choice on their off day was never easy, but he'd chosen well and they drank heartily to their good fortune. The five of them had been suing for an off-day for over a month and finally they received their due.

It pained Orion that they needed to do this, but he and Ragnar had passed through nearly a mile of Palace through sheer luck and quick thinking. They had even acted as if Ragnar was Orion's prisoner for a brief interval near the entrance of the hangar. Now the two hid behind an alcove, watching from a dark corner at the men, wearing unbuttoned and wrinkled uniforms now playing cards in this guardsman lounge room.

"Don't kill them." Orion reminded Ragnar, and the Vuldrok nodded reluctantly. At that confirmation, Orion whispered for him to follow his lead, and the two big men crouched low and moved in unison past the equipment area toward the unsuspecting Ducal guards. As luck would have it, the men had already placed away their weapons. While outnumbered, Orion and Ragnar knew they had them.

Suddenly the two turned the corner and were in eyesight, but the men were both too uncaring and too engrossed in their game to really care until they saw Orion grab a chair in the background and raise it to crash against the man closest to them. The chair became so much kindling and cards flew ubiquitously across the room as the guards began to shout. Ragnar had knocked one of them out with the butt of his axe and was currently flooring another with his massive fists.

The last two men had time to raise themselves, and they weren't small or weak by any means. But they hadn't had any real experience in fighting save the odd drill in years, perhaps ever. It took only a minute for Orion and Ragnar to subdue them and hold them down until they confessed they would answer whatever questions they had. It felt almost blasphemous to put his fingers around the Ducal guard's throat, but Annika would be dead if he couldn't find her.

"Where is the al-Malik Confessor?"

The question was guttural, and the soldier didn't know how to speak for a moment until his head caught up with him. "W-What? How the hell should I know? We're off duty. Who are you?" He blundered, and vainly tried to loosen the grip on his neck. Orion's arms didn't budge, and he pulled the man around and shoved him against the wall. "Answer me or I'll cake the wall with your blood, knave!"

He found he actually believed his own words, and for that he was ashamed. But this was no time to second guess himself. @Penny

Damned to the Depths

The BloodAxe ship's sails waved about like the plums of great birds floating on the water, deceptively nonthreatening. But Markus made no mistake, the city before them was gearing up for a battle. Luckily, they had the drop on them, and they had experienced sailors and soldiers. There would be a stark shortage of such experience on the Dalib Saharan side.

Sketti was screaming to the new recruits, many of them having just left the city they were now about to ransack. Hastily they rushed to the Weather Witches guns, eight and twelve pounders. Eights atop and Twelves on the next level down. But while those were for the battle, Calliope was the shock and awe that kicked everything off.

The Blademage was deadly with both spell and sword, but he didn't have the raw power or repertoire that his first made did. Usually she would delve into her spellbook, but it seems she had taken this attack personally and had pre-prepared a devastating spell. Even the Captain felt a weight of despair when she began to speak in the Language of the Ancients; a harsh tongue of worlds past that blackened the very hearts of all who heard it uttered.

Her body was suddenly lifted up as if some great force clutched her, head and arms falling back to hang limply as the darkness coalesced around her lower body until the power climaxed, shadows of flame leaping from her eyes and mouth like fireworks to spin and whirl into the air before slamming into the ocean surface less than a mile away. The sorceress floated there in power, watching the water with eyes aglow.

Suddenly, a placement of water lost its very form and sank into nothingness to leave but a void. There was something intensely wrong about that very image, though it did not last long. An incredible roar echoed forth and fiery tentacles thrice as thick as mainmast burst forth, each becoming a tornado of flame and shadow that cared not it was spinning over an ocean, growing in power and momentum as they hurtled toward the enemy fleet.

The BloodAxes cried out in surprise and fear, but it was nothing like the faint echoes of screams and supplication that erupted from the enemy navy. Markus wouldn't forget hearing them immediately silence once the tornadoes reached their ships, and though half the navy was now being torn apart by eldritch wind and flame, there was still a few ships left to fend that had taken up their anchors quicker than the others. Luckily, the BloodAxes smelled fresh blood in the water, and their ships cordoned off to go after the demoralized ships that now pushed forward away from the devastation.

Calliope slowly drew downwards to stumble on deck, nose bleeding. Markus caught her from falling, and helped her to her feet, wiping her nose with a cloth and tossing it away in the wind. The sorceress snarled at the ships as they continued to burn, and Markus smirked.

"On to the city!" He cried to the others, and they cheered.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Warez wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, chuckling until he could breathe again. There was a hint in the air that, despite their bravado and levity, this was still a very dangerous room full of violent people. Luckily, Neil was generally crazy enough not to care and Junebug had nerves of steel. Taya seemed somewhat put off her comment was received in such a fashion, but it wasn't as if they had opened fired so that was something.

"What do you guys call yourselves then?" Neil asked, crossing his arms. Junebug laid both of her crossed arms on Neil's shoulder and looked at the gang members, resting her chin on her draped arms to give off the casual and unimpressed look of a fellow gangster. Her tattoos with the image and she looked like a roughrider with her confident lover, simply wanting to know about the next job opportunity they had.

In unison, the men dropped their weapons and pulled up their shirtsleeves or took off their jackets to display their tattoos along their upper arms. There was another fearsome arachnid drawn in black ink on each and every one of them. "The Scorpions," Warez introduced, giving a reptilian smile. "And if you wish to be apart of our crew, you need to meet Stinger." A hush fell over the others, and Junebug and Neil simultaneously lifted their eyebrows lazily.

"Let me guess. Your nickname's Thorax?" Junebug asked.

"Like I said, watch your mouth bitch." He snapped, but Junebug's eyes were so hard that his words held little power. Neil shook his head, hand at the ready to grab his holstered revolver. "That's the second time you've insulted my girlfriend. There won't be a third, got it?"

"Why don't we meet Stinger before they need to clean up more bodies off the floor?" Taya interjected, stepping between them. If Warez had little respect for Junebug, he had even less for Taya because of her age. But her logic was sound, and he smirked. "Fine. Do you have a ride or do you need to piggyback off of us? It'll cost extra, by the way..." He made a kissing gesture toward's Taya, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Let's discuss our tab with Stinger." Neil remarked, eyes never leaving Warez.
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Juggling between being an old wizard or a young guy with a temper who sees ghosts