Awson said
>nearIt's more than 31 days away. Save this shit for Oct 1st, plz.There aren't many things to get excited for this far in advance. Here is a quick list of some that are allowed:-Christmas-Wedding-End of school year-Vacation-Media releaseHalloweenis nota big............deal.
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Merek looked about the docks and at the other squads that had arrived before them along with those that were just arriving. Most of them were just as varied as the squad Merek was placed in, although, there were quite a few dotted about that were essentially filled with magic users or heavies and the like. He wondered if all the squads would be called together for battles or just a few. He could see quite a few locals that had been hired to help with the increased workload, how they would have ever thought the small number of soldiers on each ship would be willing to help load things onto the ships was a mystery. Merek had found that after a few weeks on a ship you weren't exactly eager to quicken the time it took to get you back onto it.
After waiting a small while, a largely undamaged ship came into harbour. The 'Raggaton' it was called, a strange name as far as Merek knew, he'd always heard of ships being called things like 'The Ann-Marie' or 'The Beagle' and names like that. The 'Raggaton' had a sort of barbaric edge to it. Suffice to say it was better a better name for a ship than the woman down the road or her pet dog's name. A small shot of glee went through Merek as he discovered the squad had the chance to board the Raggaton. The shot soon faded and was replaced with a similar surge of shock as he realised that the highly flammable and explosive munitions were being loaded onto the ship. They would be a prime target for anyone who had a few cannons and a good shot. He restrained himself from expressing the shock on his face. A small quarrel went on between the sergeant and the man calling out which squads went where. Merek wasn't too pleased with the result. They were to fight a squad of tank-like heavies which wasn't too much of a concern up until it was revealed they weren't to use weapons. He hoped the allied heavies would at least attract the attention of a few of them.
He unclipped the belt holding his sheath up and laid it on the same supply crate that Hunter had. He also took the bow and quiver from his back and laid them next to his sword. He had to think of something he could do and quick. He had the idea to try and floor one of them by using his cloak as a sort of net to go around the heavies head. It was a pretty risky strategy and would leave him vulnerable after the attack along with during it if the heavy managed to counter his attack. He decided to only use it if it was an emergency. For the moment he decided to just use his fists. He held his fists up in a defensive position, but soon decided it would probably be better do dodge the heavies rather than try to defend against a full on punch from them. This decision was confirmed when he saw they began to run towards the squad. He leaped and rolled out of the way of one of the charging heavies and went for a flying punch on one of the charging ones to the side of him. It connected, with his gauntlet helping him a great deal in the damage department and leaving a gash on the heavies face. As he landed he felt a strong pain in his side which sent him flying to the floor behind the heavy. The heavy had swung his fist around in retaliation and caught Merek's side, the heavy was also wearing gauntlets that were bigger and heavier than Merek's. Merek rolled over onto his other side slowly, he saw something he wished he hadn't, the heavy slowly made his way over to Merek, stumbling halfway through, Merek had slightly dazed him. Merek took advantage of the situation and got up as quickly as he could. His side hurt like he'd just been donkey kicked. He gathered himself as quickly as he could and readied himself to dodge.
After waiting a small while, a largely undamaged ship came into harbour. The 'Raggaton' it was called, a strange name as far as Merek knew, he'd always heard of ships being called things like 'The Ann-Marie' or 'The Beagle' and names like that. The 'Raggaton' had a sort of barbaric edge to it. Suffice to say it was better a better name for a ship than the woman down the road or her pet dog's name. A small shot of glee went through Merek as he discovered the squad had the chance to board the Raggaton. The shot soon faded and was replaced with a similar surge of shock as he realised that the highly flammable and explosive munitions were being loaded onto the ship. They would be a prime target for anyone who had a few cannons and a good shot. He restrained himself from expressing the shock on his face. A small quarrel went on between the sergeant and the man calling out which squads went where. Merek wasn't too pleased with the result. They were to fight a squad of tank-like heavies which wasn't too much of a concern up until it was revealed they weren't to use weapons. He hoped the allied heavies would at least attract the attention of a few of them.
He unclipped the belt holding his sheath up and laid it on the same supply crate that Hunter had. He also took the bow and quiver from his back and laid them next to his sword. He had to think of something he could do and quick. He had the idea to try and floor one of them by using his cloak as a sort of net to go around the heavies head. It was a pretty risky strategy and would leave him vulnerable after the attack along with during it if the heavy managed to counter his attack. He decided to only use it if it was an emergency. For the moment he decided to just use his fists. He held his fists up in a defensive position, but soon decided it would probably be better do dodge the heavies rather than try to defend against a full on punch from them. This decision was confirmed when he saw they began to run towards the squad. He leaped and rolled out of the way of one of the charging heavies and went for a flying punch on one of the charging ones to the side of him. It connected, with his gauntlet helping him a great deal in the damage department and leaving a gash on the heavies face. As he landed he felt a strong pain in his side which sent him flying to the floor behind the heavy. The heavy had swung his fist around in retaliation and caught Merek's side, the heavy was also wearing gauntlets that were bigger and heavier than Merek's. Merek rolled over onto his other side slowly, he saw something he wished he hadn't, the heavy slowly made his way over to Merek, stumbling halfway through, Merek had slightly dazed him. Merek took advantage of the situation and got up as quickly as he could. His side hurt like he'd just been donkey kicked. He gathered himself as quickly as he could and readied himself to dodge.
Chibi, I don't mean to sound rude, but might I suggest a website like spellcheckplus.com to help with a few of your grammar mistakes? I spotted a few here and there within your latest post that the website could probably pick up. Again, I don't mean to be rude and it's entirely your choice if you want or dont want to.
Alright, I'm just a bit cautious because I think im in a different timezone from most of you guys.
HollywoodMole said
Halloween is so boring -_-
Villian name: Abezethibou The Prophet
Real Name: His birth name is Orson White although his rebirth name and the name he goes by now is the same as his villain name.
Appearance:
Tattoos and scars in the shape of markings are scattered around his body, covering almost the entirety of it. The staff he carries with him goes from his shoulder to the floor with a genuine 'human' skull resting atop the pole. The skull is set alight depending on the situation but is usually not on fire. His eyes glow and move like lava with the centres being brighter than the outer parts.
Powers and/or abilities: Special training, superpowers etc.
-Mastery of the dark arts(Necromancy, general magics, etc)
-His bodies endurance is enhanced to a great deal
-Trained in the use of staffs and polearms as weapons.
Bio: Short is enough
Reasons: He plans to convert the world over to the cult of the Red Saviour and in doing so must do a few less reputable acts to show how powerful the Red Saviour is and what he will do if he is not worshipped.
Nemesis:
unfinished, will probably finish tomorrow
Real Name: His birth name is Orson White although his rebirth name and the name he goes by now is the same as his villain name.
Appearance:
Tattoos and scars in the shape of markings are scattered around his body, covering almost the entirety of it. The staff he carries with him goes from his shoulder to the floor with a genuine 'human' skull resting atop the pole. The skull is set alight depending on the situation but is usually not on fire. His eyes glow and move like lava with the centres being brighter than the outer parts.
Powers and/or abilities: Special training, superpowers etc.
-Mastery of the dark arts(Necromancy, general magics, etc)
-His bodies endurance is enhanced to a great deal
-Trained in the use of staffs and polearms as weapons.
Bio: Short is enough
Reasons: He plans to convert the world over to the cult of the Red Saviour and in doing so must do a few less reputable acts to show how powerful the Red Saviour is and what he will do if he is not worshipped.
Nemesis:
unfinished, will probably finish tomorrow
So is there going to be an official post order?
Is this still open to applicants?
Merek stepped into the tavern just after his new Sergeant. He stepped to the side to let the rest of the group in while a space was cleared for them, in the meantime he looked around the tavern, scoping it out to some extent. It wasn't a very 'nice' or good looking establishment, but what tavern that isn't filled with pansies is all that 'nice'. Most of the occupants of the bar were fishermen, no one was really drinking this early on in the day unless they were unemployed or off for the day. A few other groups of marines could be spotted dotted around the bar, but they were mostly those yet to be put into a group who were taking a quick swig before they had to meet their new commanding officer.
He sat at the table across from, Hunter. He poured a small amount of the ale into the rather grimy mug provided for him and took a swig before listening to his sergeants rather 'enthralling tale' of his life and the small fragment of what could have been added to some momentous and awe inspiring final speech made by some commander right before his face was shot with an arrow and his army was killed by the opposing force. The mental image didn't add a whole lot to Merek's overall mood to be honest. The mention of the Jadelyn war did seem a bit interesting though, he had heard about it during a stay in a tavern in Lacomyn and from the tone of the sergeants voice, it obviously didn't go well for the Jadelyn 1st army.
He looked about the group to see who would take over after, Hunter, after a short while Merek decided to pipe up and give them his life story.
"My name is ser Merek Harclay of Mountmend.", He said 'ser' with the sort of snide tone he would have spoken it with about nobles before he was actually made one.
"I grew up on a farm and then met some bloke who knew a bit about swords. Long story short, he took me on a few whimsical adventures and taught me how to use a sword. Most of what I learned about actually using a sword is from first-hand experience though, I was in a different army a few years ago, but left and done a wee bit of mercenary work on the side when I was heading back up to Mountmend." He took another drink before continuing.
"Turns out some barbarian scumbags ransacked the village and the noble overseeing my village was too busy fighting some other war to send a few troops down to save the little folk. I gathered a few of the remaining men and attacked the barbarians myself just before I went to go and have a word with the noble. Turns out the noble was so grateful of my work that he gave me a small sack of gold and the honourary privilege of being called a ser." He sort of motioned towards the torn and slightly burnt flag bearing the sigil of a blue lion hanging by a thin piece of string on his cloak.
"Joined Echelon because to be frank, farming is about as exciting as watching grass grow for a living, literally and fighting is just about the only thing I know how to do to a somewhat good degree other than planting a turnip every few months." He took a third swig of his drink before grabbing one of the pins and pinning it to the rope that held his house banner up on his arm.
"That's about it really" He said before waiting for the rest of the group to get over with their introductions. If anything they were a ragtag looking bunch, but Merek was one to speak, looking like he'd just walked out of a warzone when he hadn't been in a good fight for about two months.
He sat at the table across from, Hunter. He poured a small amount of the ale into the rather grimy mug provided for him and took a swig before listening to his sergeants rather 'enthralling tale' of his life and the small fragment of what could have been added to some momentous and awe inspiring final speech made by some commander right before his face was shot with an arrow and his army was killed by the opposing force. The mental image didn't add a whole lot to Merek's overall mood to be honest. The mention of the Jadelyn war did seem a bit interesting though, he had heard about it during a stay in a tavern in Lacomyn and from the tone of the sergeants voice, it obviously didn't go well for the Jadelyn 1st army.
He looked about the group to see who would take over after, Hunter, after a short while Merek decided to pipe up and give them his life story.
"My name is ser Merek Harclay of Mountmend.", He said 'ser' with the sort of snide tone he would have spoken it with about nobles before he was actually made one.
"I grew up on a farm and then met some bloke who knew a bit about swords. Long story short, he took me on a few whimsical adventures and taught me how to use a sword. Most of what I learned about actually using a sword is from first-hand experience though, I was in a different army a few years ago, but left and done a wee bit of mercenary work on the side when I was heading back up to Mountmend." He took another drink before continuing.
"Turns out some barbarian scumbags ransacked the village and the noble overseeing my village was too busy fighting some other war to send a few troops down to save the little folk. I gathered a few of the remaining men and attacked the barbarians myself just before I went to go and have a word with the noble. Turns out the noble was so grateful of my work that he gave me a small sack of gold and the honourary privilege of being called a ser." He sort of motioned towards the torn and slightly burnt flag bearing the sigil of a blue lion hanging by a thin piece of string on his cloak.
"Joined Echelon because to be frank, farming is about as exciting as watching grass grow for a living, literally and fighting is just about the only thing I know how to do to a somewhat good degree other than planting a turnip every few months." He took a third swig of his drink before grabbing one of the pins and pinning it to the rope that held his house banner up on his arm.
"That's about it really" He said before waiting for the rest of the group to get over with their introductions. If anything they were a ragtag looking bunch, but Merek was one to speak, looking like he'd just walked out of a warzone when he hadn't been in a good fight for about two months.
Ollumhammersong said
That doesn't really fit well with a mercenary theme as much as a drunken sailor vibe. If this was a sailing RP that would grab me. But with a land based merc band.
It was just a joke haha
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