So is there like a running theme in the rp that we are suggested to follow when creating our characters?
Also, how accepting are you of blood/profanity?
Also, how accepting are you of blood/profanity?
Roughdragon1 Member
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Most Recent Posts
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World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]
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6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
In
World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]
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6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm interested in this, though i havent rped in a while.
I'll be completely honest here: I'm in a pretty dark place right now, so I won't be posting for a while. Feel free to do whatever with my character.
@ProPro I apologize for basically ghosting this rp, but now that I'm on break I should have some time to post in the following days.
Well, time to read and win a bar brawl. Can someone give me a synopsis of what's happened so far?
@BrightSteel Boi
@EldarionI @Flightless_Soul @Avali @NewShoesForever
Saga practically kicked down the door as he burst back into the tavern, eyes scanning around the tables. Apparently, the musket-man was having a drink with an awkward-looking girl. Also, it looked like the spider had finally gotten the dwarf into her poison webs. Like he cared. He needed his blade. Also, he was still half-drunk.
“Alright, who the fuck’s got my sword!”
On your right, Saga.
His eyes darted furiously to a pathetic-looking man who was at the overturned table, pitifully scrabbling to lift the heavy blade. Saga wasted no time, and began to stomp over to the ragged thing.
Saga, don’t do it–
Too late. In a split second, Saga hit the man with a furious gauntleted hook, knocking out teeth, blood, and the would-be thief’s consciousness. A few shocked gasps arose from the patrons, some yelling at him to get out. Others, however, kept on drinking and laughing. One of them however, a huge man a head taller than Saga, got up from his seat, cracking his knuckles.
Oh great, now look what you’ve started.
Like he can hurt me.
Saga sheathed his sword, unfazed by the monster of a man, most likely a former soldier himself.
“Tin man!” He yelled mockingly, drawing a few laughs. “You come in here and threaten everyone like yer high-born asses do, and after we think we’re safe from yer shenanigans, you come back in and punch Grik’s lights out! Don’t think we’ll just roll over like yer dogs!”
“Like you can hurt me, flabby ass. Hold on, I can just barely tell the difference between you and those whales on the docks!”
That one hurt. The big man’s face reddened, and using the last of his pride, he leaned in close. Saga could smell the stale musk of cheap ale, and see the beads of sweat dotting the man’s face. His voice lowered to a snarl.
“You forget something, Tin Man. Almost every one of us boys in here’s a merc. Battle hardened. We’ve seen city after city fall under our boot. We’ll tear that armor right off you, High-born. And maybe, we’ll take that sword for a prize.”
Saga, you’ve got to calm down, now.
“Many have tried, big guy. All of them have failed. Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Lizardfolk, Giants; None of them could do it. In all of the Five Great Campaigns of Vangard, my armor and sword survived when the others fell. What, in the name of Titania, do you think you can do to ME!”
He yelled that last part, making sure that everyone in the tavern could hear it, even the two upstairs, if they weren’t making too much noise already.
Oh, now you've done it.
Saga practically kicked down the door as he burst back into the tavern, eyes scanning around the tables. Apparently, the musket-man was having a drink with an awkward-looking girl. Also, it looked like the spider had finally gotten the dwarf into her poison webs. Like he cared. He needed his blade. Also, he was still half-drunk.
“Alright, who the fuck’s got my sword!”
On your right, Saga.
His eyes darted furiously to a pathetic-looking man who was at the overturned table, pitifully scrabbling to lift the heavy blade. Saga wasted no time, and began to stomp over to the ragged thing.
Saga, don’t do it–
Too late. In a split second, Saga hit the man with a furious gauntleted hook, knocking out teeth, blood, and the would-be thief’s consciousness. A few shocked gasps arose from the patrons, some yelling at him to get out. Others, however, kept on drinking and laughing. One of them however, a huge man a head taller than Saga, got up from his seat, cracking his knuckles.
Oh great, now look what you’ve started.
Like he can hurt me.
Saga sheathed his sword, unfazed by the monster of a man, most likely a former soldier himself.
“Tin man!” He yelled mockingly, drawing a few laughs. “You come in here and threaten everyone like yer high-born asses do, and after we think we’re safe from yer shenanigans, you come back in and punch Grik’s lights out! Don’t think we’ll just roll over like yer dogs!”
“Like you can hurt me, flabby ass. Hold on, I can just barely tell the difference between you and those whales on the docks!”
That one hurt. The big man’s face reddened, and using the last of his pride, he leaned in close. Saga could smell the stale musk of cheap ale, and see the beads of sweat dotting the man’s face. His voice lowered to a snarl.
“You forget something, Tin Man. Almost every one of us boys in here’s a merc. Battle hardened. We’ve seen city after city fall under our boot. We’ll tear that armor right off you, High-born. And maybe, we’ll take that sword for a prize.”
Saga, you’ve got to calm down, now.
“Many have tried, big guy. All of them have failed. Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Lizardfolk, Giants; None of them could do it. In all of the Five Great Campaigns of Vangard, my armor and sword survived when the others fell. What, in the name of Titania, do you think you can do to ME!”
He yelled that last part, making sure that everyone in the tavern could hear it, even the two upstairs, if they weren’t making too much noise already.
Oh, now you've done it.
Oh my lord, what happened while I was away
I'm waiting for EldarionI and FLightless_Soul
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