POOHEAD189

Lilaethan: A High-Casual/Low-Advanced Warhammer 40,000 Aeldari Roleplay

@POOHEAD189 I remember you, broski. You joining? I subbed to your youtube channel years ago, which should definitely make you feel obligated!

(Kidding)

@Lucian

I might take a whack at it. The Eldar were my DoW2 go-to faction after all...

Pax Astra

Warriors feast, soldiers dig.

His centurion had told him that. Had beaten that into him. That there was more to war than merely fighting and celebrating. A soldier needed to be master of many skills. You could ask him about any skillset, be it sweeping floors, cleaning toilets, or hunting big game. Est Idoneum Bello, he would say. It is suitable for war. And so he took that to heart, serving four years in the Ultimus Legiones, before serving another two years and being redistributed into the Onocentauri to serve the remainder of his second tour. His centurion was right, he had done plenty of digging. But he had learned how to fix ion carburetors, re-weld titanium plating, repair the jet propulsion on a laburturi and a subterlabori vehicle. He could reprogram a automaton or an Onocentauri mecha.

And he could clean a shitter with the best of them.

The Screo III he had been working on for the better part of a week ignited, blue flames flaring out of its engines as it softly lifted off the ground. The owner, an older gentleman who once worked for the administratum, had treated the ex-soldier with some light, customary scrutiny. He had come in to check twice that week if the repairs were going smoothly, and had called this morning. Only half an hour ago did Tiber finish the piece, replacing the coolant system and repairing the shot hydrogen valve, giving the keys back to to the man who was surprised a 'barbarian' was so well versed in the mechanical arts. Tiber just took his money and let him go, returning to work on his old armored junker.

Tiber's great grandfather had been a renowned warrior, accounted with the taking of twenty seven imperial skulls in his career as a Ventati life-taker. Had he lived to see his grandson emigrate to the Empire, and to see his great grandson serving in the roman war machine, he would have begged the brutish tribal gods to tell him why his bloodline had been so tarnished. Tiber wondered if he could have understood his family was starving, or that if the old man perhaps would have thought it better that way. Better to die than to kneel to the romans, maybe. He didn't know. He had not known much different than this.

He set about welding the 10x30 adamantine to the 'junker,' it's skeleton held aloft by chains like some great cyclops caught in a trap. Flames leaped from the welding torch, lightly beading upon his reinforced apron, light reflecting off his visor. The money he had grabbed from the old member of the adminastratum would hold him for a few weeks, and the army had seen fit to grace him with a balanced pension and this spit of land. But he didn't want to stay here forever. He hated to admit it, but he was restless. For the better part of a year he had worked as a mechanic, adding a small wing to his home, and had even taken up a bit of gardening. He could do the former two, but he wasn't blessed by Ceres like his neighbor, Sabatine. He had only had a few conversations with her over the past season. Their eyes spoke more than their words. They could tell without having to ask they were both veterans, likely retiring as principes around the same time. He remembered whistling provocatively at her orchard just a handful of weeks ago and she told him to take a picture, it might last longer. She had been gracious enough to surprise him with a basket of apples on his front door just last week. No note, but he hadn't needed one.

She was cool. He hadn't expected to find anymore veterans of similar age on the planet, particularly so close.

A foot kicked the thick fueling tube that snaked across the shop floor, bumping into the back of his combat boots. Tiber made a small glance behind him, and then turned the torch off and lifted his visor. Despite his barbarian heritage on his father's side, he had the sun-tanned skin of a roman like his mother, though he was uncharacteristically tall, standing an inch over six feet. His hair, close cropped in the army, had been allowed to grow out into a thick head of black hair. He had the beginnings of a goatee but it hadn't quite ripened yet.

"Sabby? What can I do you fo-" He started when he saw her there, having deliberately placed her foot on the tube to get his attention. She didn't seem concerned, but something in her eyes relayed to him they needed to talk. He removed the apron from his statuesque form and tossed his torch to the ground. "Trouble?"

If she nodded, he would indicate to come into his office. The central area of the repair shop was immediately connected to the back office, behind a one-way, slug-proof window.

New to the guil

welcome!

Anime & Manga! Oh my! (Anime/Manga Thread)

Saw all 5 episodes of Hell's Paradise the other night. Not bad so far

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

When Galt first saw Lord Byrne, he had a sickly notion he was witnessing the reason Silke had thus far been unable to return his flirtations, at least to a point. He thought he recognized the man too, albeit vaguely. Likely he had seen him at the banquet at his coronation, or perhaps in the crowd during the ceremony. Either way, he had gotten close enough to the two to overhear a bit of their conversation. He was used to eavesdropping, but somehow with Silke he felt a bit guilty, even if he actually hadn't meant to eavesdrop at all. He simply had arrived and halted for a few brief moments so he would not interrupt.

But what he heard made his blood run cold. His head burned a bit, and he had to take a few long, deep breaths to calm himself. Even with the smell of horse and straw, he thought it might help. Galt found he was surprised at the reaction his body was getting at this honestly unsurprising news. It would be normal for Silke to be married off, wouldn't it? Still, she seemed so confident it was not to happen that he had started to believe her, and that perhaps they might...

No, he wasn't going to be immature about this. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. An old trick he had been taught when in tight situations, and he simply stepped out into the doorway and approached the two. He nodded to Lord Bryne as the nobleman walked past him, exchanging quick pleasantries before Galt found himself standing before Silke. "I just ate, but I admit I am looking forward to dinner as well." He said by way of conversation, though the words fell out of his mouth like stones, amounting to nothing but filler.

"I heard what he said. I um..." Galt crossed his arms, unsure of what to say to her. Should he comfort her? Tell her he would do whatever she asked? That would be overstepping it, but it's certainly how he felt at the moment. That very notion confused him too. He was acting like a street urchin. "I wish I could say something that would change the reality of the situation, but maybe the rumors aren't entirely true? I'm no stranger to such things. Whispers can amount to gold or dust, depending on who's lips they escape from." Galt had spread more than a few himself in his day, and the ex-thief leaned against the stall, the horse behind it nickering.

"If they are true though, I know marriage isn't your thing." Ok, that was stupid to say. It was true, but also an uncouth way of putting it. He knew she worried of her family most of all. "But you would want to stay here, regardless. Perhaps we could get married and save yourself taking the trip up north." He said with a wink. He was joking, but he spoke in a way that exuded confidence, almost a smugness, like any good joke of the sort would.

Damned to the Depths

"And where do you hail from, Lord Markus...?" The Lord Malon asked, having introduced himself as a wealthy landowner with a penchant for trading silks from as far as Ragba Shahir. His wife was a petite blonde wearing a white gown, silver gleaming from the earrings she wore.

"I am a landless man of small means, though originally I'm from a barony amongst border kingdoms along the valelands. The highway of men, they call it." Markus said casually, his eyes subtly moving to his left and right to watch his men get into position. A guardsman with an arquebas had disappeared behind a curtain, one second there and the other second gone from sight. The squat, soft merchant lord regarded him with a mild contempt. Even if Markus weren't a bastard, a duke of the border kingdoms would amount to little more than a baronet in other, more spacious areas of the human realms. A baron was little more than an upjumped gentleman to his mind, apparently. Ironic, considering it sees more trade than most of the inland kingdoms combined.

"I see, well then what bring you here, sir?" The lord's wife asked, fanning herself. She clearly thought Markus was fetching, and he had to hide a smirk. She wouldn't have the chance to ask him to 'escort her to see the gardens' while her husband talked business. Even as he pondered how to answer, another guard was gone from sight, and he could have sworn he saw a flailing hand disappear behind a large vase. Markus smiled.

"Gold, madam. I'm a soldier of fortune, truth be told. Some have called me a ne'er-do-well and a rogue, but I prefer to think of myself as simply more honest than the average lord or lady, who takes the gold from the poor through taxes and corrupt laws. Oh, speaking of which..." He said wryly as Calliope approached, barely suppressing a wicked little smile on her lovely face. She inclined her head to the Lord Malon and the Lady Heatherfin, placing a hand on Markus' chest and looking up at him. He placed his hand on the small of her back, giving her a wink.

"Fun party," Calliope said, nostrils flaring as if smoke would pour out of them like some wyrm of the great north. "Is it time for the crescendo?"

"The governor has not yet addressed the party. I will believe it will be in an hour." The squat lord said, raising an eyebrow in confusion at this entire interaction. The wife looked crestfallen at 'Callypsa's' familiarity with the rakish Markus. For his part, Markus laughed. It wasn't a chuckle, but a full blown cackle that drew attention from the closest lords and ladies around.

"The governor will address everyone shortly, believe me." Markus said. A capslock pistol fell out from his coat sleeve, slid easily into his hand, and he pressed the barrel of the gun to the lord's head before giving any warning to his intentions. The man was aghast, his mustache floundering as he tried to form words. Markus almost pulled the trigger, but he wasn't that cruel. Gunshots rang out and there was a wail of pain as Sketti broke an arm across the banquet hall.

As if wished out of nothing, the captain's off-hand now held Bledwydyr, the dark blade. He lifted it and pointed it at the crowd behind him to hold them back as the crowd began to panic and his men swept into the room with axes, swords and guns.

Here with my homies.

Nice to meet you! Welcome to the site

All about role plays maps (world, town, dungeon)

I'm not very good at making maps, but man I love them. I wish I had the map making mind but it eludes me.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Lasbolts flew wildly across the landscape, though the attack was from so far from my position that even if they were well-trained karskins they would have likely flown wide of the mark. For those familiar with lasguns like any good soldier, I needn't tell you how they work. But for the layman or autogun enthusiast, there is no arc to the laser that is discharged from a lasgun. It will continue on until the beam fires past the curvature of the planet and dissipates into the cold nothingness of the void. It makes the guns accurate if you're accurate, but any degree off-point and it will increase the margin of error.

I unholstered my autogun pistol and dove behind a rise in the sand just at the cusp of the beach. Selencia hustled over to my position and knelt beside me in a crouch, a needle gun in her hands. She gave a quick bead on the enemy and fired a shot. I had found a small curve in the sand and unloaded four slugs from the autogun, killing two of the barbarians. Even as I watched, more charged into my line of sight. There had to be dozens, shooting haphazardly and carrying crude bludgeoning weapons.

"Coincidence?" Selencia asked with a curious nonchalance.

"Doubtful, but I don't think they would have had the skill to hit Samara as we found her." I reasoned, raising myself from a prone position to a knee and firing another four shots. The heavy caliber gun reverberated the sand by my feet as the muzzle flashed. Three more dead, their blood splattering the forest floor and covering the local fungi.

Selencia's needle pistol dispatched a particularly large, thuggish brute who had decided to rampage toward our position. He hadn't even had a lasgun, just a crude looking piece of steel that vaguely resembled a sword. He almost looked confused when his heart was pierced, tripping and falling into death mere feet from their position. "Well there's enough of the bastards to kill us, much less Samara."

"True," I said absentmindedly. I looked over near the ten's where the locals had made a defensive perimeter, two of them already taken down by the mob that charged at them. Lucious was easy to spot, the thunder warrior swinging his arm like a club and sending a man flying into his fellows like he had been hit by a terran bull. I wondered where Emmaline was, but even as the thought crossed my mind, a savage crested the small rise we hid behind and raised an axe to brain me. I lifted my arm to halt the percussive blow by halting the momentum of the weapon's haft, and the two of us went tumbling into the sand. I knocked his arm with the axe behind my own arm and wrapped his other arm up in my legs to keep it immobilized. Selencia slid over to us, and she grabbed the screaming man's head and with a quick twist, snapped his neck. I had forgotten how seriously she took her close combat training.

"The lady Emmaline is fine." She said as if she read my thoughts. "In fact I'm envious of her. She has the big astartes and I only have you." She quipped coquettishly, offering her hand and helping me stand up.

Things You Are Excited About

I'll be going to florida in two weeks for some R&R