POOHEAD189

Crisis of the Confederacy [Sci Fi Warlordism NRP] (Updated!)

Not sure if Ill have time but I love me some warlords

Roleplaying in 2020

Generally I believe my original writing is way better than my roleplaying, but even with that in mind I think I did 'ok.' This year. I was very proud of myself the first two weeks of The Blackwood, before life slowed me down.

I think my goals this next year is to put my characters through different scenarios as a writing exercise. I usually enjoy that. Like putting a character I have in a pirate RP into a political intrigue/adventure RP, or make my thief have to take up bounty hunting, etc. Or do the classic 'turn this farmboy into a king' and make him take darker choices.

I also want to start more group roleplays. That and I'm hoping I can start a Roll20 gaming session with a few RPG members I feel would work well together on here.

The Elder Scrolls : Voice of the Sky

The Blackwood

Hello friends. Some sad news is, well...my grandfather just passed away this new years eve, and new years weekend I am moving, and the next week I will be in Florida for my grandfather's funeral. So it might be a hot second before I can post anything else. But once I am back, I'll do a roll call and see if everyone here is still interested.

Just stumbled on this forum. cool

Welcome!

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

Chalnarc was close enough to be a problem, but dumb and slow enough to where Dirk had multiple solutions. But for all of his bluster, he couldn't kill Chalnarc in any gruesome fashion. The contract said his face needed to be whole, and he needed to bring back the body as well. This led Dirk to prefer the quarry cooperate and come alive, but if he was going to be trouble, then he would simply kill him and end it.

Chalnarc saw the briefest of hesitation in the Bounty Hunter, and so he leaped forward like a Zykron Leech and chopped downward with his blade before Dirk could get a shot off. Jacosta would see the blade slam into Dirk's position and hit the blasted soil beneath him. Behind Chalnarc's bulk, it was hard to tell what had happened. She would realize a moment later that Dirk had subtly sidestepped the attack and used Chalnarc's brav ado to his advantage. Dirk Crimson had calmly placed the barrel of one of his DX-15s under Chalnarc's chin and pulled the trigger, the big man haven't having fallen simply because Dirk kept him up with his free hand.

Stepping out of the bounty's space, Chalnarc hit the dirt as dead as old earth.

It was as easy as he had imagined. The hard part now was taking this slag of meat across the wastes to Neo-Mecca. The tough was burly, but his mechanical enhancements added unnecessary weight that will slow him down a bit. Dirk was just about to kneel down to grab at the corpse when his visor went off, a humanoid signature. Female. Armed. Her heartbeat came up on his sensors. Instead of kneeling or holstering his gun, he aimed it at the corner she hid. He thought he had heard a raucous noise inside. Was it from her?

"Identify yourself."

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The three of them had been packed into the little carriage, mostly because of their considerable equipment rather than their bulk, though Gunir's girth didn't do them any favors. The clopping of their mount and the clattering of the wheels on the uneven stone road that circled the three large structures might not awaken the neighbors but the servants certainly took notice. The Graf's personal butler, a hook nosed gentlemen in a fine coat, and a few other staff members were there to greet them, utterly relieved at the good news they brought with their arrival. The three were ushered in to the great hall, with Camilla making a note for them to prepare Cyrdic and her quarters so she could help bandage him up. Cyrdic had insisted she take the cot whilst he slept on the ground amid what blankets they could find, but he saw a new argument brewing now that he was injured, a light wound though it was.

Cyrdic and Gunir sat down at the long dining table in the hall whilst servants went to and fro with various tasks. Gunir called for drinks and Cyrdic couldn't disagree, ordering one for he and Camilla to enjoy.

"Let's celebrate, we'll worry on other stuff later. Ok?" Cyrdic said to the Tilean, grabbing her hand. She deflated and nodded stiffly, plopping down next to him and taking her drink.

"Un drink." She said, bringing a smile to the Ostlander's face. They often recited the Tilean translation of 'one drink' to one another just before they went on a binge, but this time Cyrdic wasn't going to not take it face value. It was late for them anyway, so he took the mug and downed half of it in an impressive feat of practiced alcoholism.

"I'll celebrate when I get my gold!" Gunir roared, sliding his already emptied mug away. "Ye think there's any chance we'll get the krowns this century?" He asked, whilst raising a finger for a servant to refill his mug. A young boy came over nervously to do so. Cyrdic thought he was intimidated by the Dwarf at first, but he couldn't take his eyes off Camilla. Cyrdic grinned and finished his drink.

Four pouches were dropping on the table in front of them by the steward of Dounkebruk, a fellow called Richter Von Haldst. His broad face and easy-going manner belied a shrewd mind, if Cyrdic had to guess. The fellow wore three stripes over blue white blue over his left shoulder to denote his rank, which was apparently the style this side of Middenheim. "The Graf and I recognize the bravery it took for you three to open the roads again and drive off the scum. We thank you Herr Becker, Master Dwarf, and Fraulien Contessa. As a special thanks, your first two drinks will be free. Any after that will have to be put on a tab..."

Gunir, with two empty mugs and a raised finger, slowly lowered his hand and glowered.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

A jackal's grin spread over Amal's face, and he crossed his arms and legs in the chair as he thought of how they might implicate her former master. The bandit took too much enjoyment in ruining people's days for profit, but he wasn't about to call himself out on it. It was simply too much fun.

---

Hef screamed as loud as he could, but it was far too muffled to be heard for any distance from the old cloth Amal had stuffed him with like a rotisserie pig. The leader, who was eponymously named Ringo, was out cold from Amal's initial entrance. Leaping off a wharf warehouse whilst swinging on a rope gave Amal quite a bit of momentem. He had only needed the two to be distracted for a moment, and Emmaline sauntering across the docks in her lowcut blouse gave Amal thrice the time he needed to get in position and execute the maneuver. From there Amal simply danced around Hef until he had decked him in the chin, and now the fellow had regained his sensibilities just in time to be tied up and helpless.

Amal saw a small flash in the distance past the wharf, beside a small structure straddling the docks; a sign Emmaline had gotten a hold of the cart they were to steal. As long as they were at the appointed place at the appointed time, nothing should go awry. That was the hope at least. Amal was very apt at handling things on the fly, but usually that led to people openly dying or at least being severely pissed off, and they wanted to leave as small of a trail as possible. All that was left now was to hide Ringo and Hef so they could be on their way.

"Stop struggling." Amal breathed, absentmindedly speaking in Arabyan as he tightened the binds to Hef's hands. The northerner smelled like alcohol and rotting bread, not uncommon smells to Amal but there was something extra putrid that was strange to his southern-born palate. He still found a few of the northern dishes particularly strange, after all. The cutthroat took out his knife and showed it to Hef, who froze. "I will not stab you if you hold still, understand?"

The words spoken in reikspeil calmed the robber, which allowed Amal to blindfold him with the last cloth. Sheathing the knife, Amal used his wiry strength and powerful arms to lift the man up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder. After taking about a dozen paces to the north, he stepped onto the docks, Hef likely believing Amal was going to stuff him in the brig of a ship. Unfortunately for Hef, Amal halted at the edge of the dock to unceremoniously shrug the man off and into the black depths of the Reik. Save for some noncommittal splashing from the horrified man, he sank into the water like a rock.

After Amal dealt with Ringo in a similar fashion, he donned his cloak again and kept the shadows near the warehouses until he poked into the small outcropping where Emmaline sat on the coach, waiting for his appearance.

Back after a long time away ~<3

Welcome back!

Greetings! Candy Cane Service!

@POOHEAD189 I know that candy cane was from you, you wholesome man! My gratitude overfloweth.

@Kassarock

I figured that hint would work! Thank you, my friend.

@Love Dove Oh you know I sent you one.