Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current Forget changing the future, if they ever invent time travel, I'm gonna get tickets to all my favorite artists.
4 mos ago
People arguing over how much new Star Wars sucks vs old Star Wars and I'm over here like, "Who gives a shit? They both suck, but we're all gonna watch it anyway." Cuz entertaiment, ladies and gents.
2 yrs ago
The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. Strange what desire will make foolish people do.
2 yrs ago
Flu shots my ass. Damn thing didn't do me a bit of good. And now I get to miss out on my bro's birthday bash in DC and pay the airline a cancellation fee. Whoopee.
2 yrs ago
Why the fuck is the flu virus a thing?
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Uh, so I guess I should write something semi-intelligent here, but I can't for the life of me, come up with anything.

I was born, that made a lot of people mad and was largely agreed to have been a really bad idea.

I blame my father for letting me read all those crazy books about cowboys, hobbits, aliens and crazy wizards. Like, those concepts were not in the same set of books, obviously. I mean that I read a bunch of different books which featured those kinds of characters and creatures within their respective fictional universes. Just so we're clear.

As far as RPs go, I like 'em like I like my reading. That is to say, interesting characters, character development and a good storyline. So, it's not surprise that I generally hang out in the advanced section. I have nothing against the other types of RPs on the site, mind you. I just know what I like and I tend to stick with that.

I grew up in the mountains, which was pretty cool I suppose.

Went off to college, turned 21 and my grades saw a corresponding drop, but that's ok.

Graduated college, which was pretty awesome.

And now, here I sit.

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Note: The direction I chose with this character was one that kind of reflects how the in-lore chaos is supposed to have a shifting/myriad nature.



Note: The direction I chose with this character was one that kind of reflects how the in-lore chaos is supposed to have a shifting/myriad nature.

My CS is up, I basically changed over an old Chaos Space Marine character I'd used before and I loved the concept so much I wanted to transcribe it over.

Quentin had stood as soon as the priest strode into the narrow confines of the hall between the cells. However he did not deign to offer any kind of deference. He was not so embittered as to become hateful of their kind, as had many of his comrades … at least not anymore. But neither did he feel compelled to render them any kind of courtesy more than that due to any other.

He watched with idle curiosity at the priest spoke and then passed whatever kind of judgement he saw fit on Renault.

Then it was apparently his turn. He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the bars and looked hard at the priest. He couldn't say he bore the man or his faith any really malice, but neither was he particularly welcoming of him. By what right did he or his so-called god claim to judge? Then again, Quentin wasn't exactly sure who or what he believed in anymore. So perhaps one was as good as any other.

"Alright then, priest, but I wonder who judges you and whether or not anything you say will really matter in the end." He spoke quietly and his tone was neither angry nor judgmental. Quentin might have almost been conversing with a friend about an important matter.

Then he shrugged and wrapped his fingers around the bars.

"Well, go on then, priest, judge me. Let's see what that god of yours has to say about me. Maybe this one will tell us the truth." He smiled grimly at the dark jest.

It seemed there was little else to say and so Jehan nodded politely to all present and stepped out in the sunlight. The clouds had parted or at least thinned and dim sunlight shone down on the dusty streets, spattered with fresh raindrops. She down the narrow lanes, hand ever close to her blade and between that and her foreboding expression, few seemed to get in her way.

Odd how that worked. Granted, such posturing wouldn't work on someone in her line of work, but it seemed to deter the average citizen well enough. Right then that's all she wanted. The churning feeling in her gut was all too familiar. In spite of all these years she'd plied in her violent trade, something the prospect of imminent bloodshed still brought a feeling of great unease.

No matter how many things she thought of to calm herself or how many times she reminded herself of every time she'd faced death and won, the animal part of her mind wouldn't listen. So she did what she always did and tried to ignore it. Which was best aided by burying herself in mundane tasks.

She began by checking her horses' ironshod hooves. If her steed couldn't stand or walk he couldn't fight. It was funny how much the little things could often decide who lived or died. That done she slung the high-backed warsaddle into place and busied herself with the girth. She checked the leather for any cracks or desiccation and smiled grimly. There was a time a score of people would have busied themselves with such things on her behalf. The importance of such menial work would have never once crossed her mind. Yet her she was.

That done, she hauled the plate and mail barding from under the protection of the canvas that was stretched across her other steed's packsaddle. In a way her vicious brute of a warhorse was her main weapon, she was mostly there to kill anyone that tried to circle around the hamstring the foul-tempered stallion.

"Well how about it, Briar?" She said softly.

"You fancy a ride into the Empire's forests? It'll be just like home, eh? Nothing bad lurking in those woods, nothing out there waiting to eat us alive." She snorted and finished strapping the last piece of harness in place.

For his part, Briar seemed oddly placid at the thought of sudden and brutal mayhem. Perhaps the brutish warhorse derived a certain joy from the carnage. Well, Jehan supposed she'd need that. She strapped the black caparison over the polished steel and Briar suddenly looked more like he should be pulling a hearse. Considering the job he'd been bred for, Jehan supposed the look wasn't exactly inappropriate.

She strapped only the bare essentials, things like a sharpening stone, water and the like, to her warsaddle. She surveyed her handiwork with a critical eye and nodded. It would do.

She turned to the sullen-looking youth who tended the stables. Suddenly feeling generous, she dug a coin from her newly acquired funds and tossed it to him.

"Keep an eye on my little friend," she nodded at the packhorse, "The forests are no place for a pony, even one so brave as that. If I don't come back, he's yours."

The lad nodded and slipped to whatever it was he did in his spare time.

That done, she took a long look at her own harness and weapons. All was in order. She'd checked these things countless time, but complacency would most assuredly get her killed. Especially out beyond the dubious protection of the town walls.

She swung into the high saddle with clink of armor and a grunt. Then she gently touched a coin-sized rowel to her mighty steed's flank and he stepped out into the light at a brisk walk, tossing his hammer head and flaring his nostrils.

She let a out a rare chuckle.

"Save your strength you old fool, you'll need it soon enough. There'll be plenty of creatures to smash under your hooves .. maybe even a halfling if you're lucky."

Briar didn't say anything, but then he wasn't exactly a great conversationalist.

Jehan leaned back in the saddle, one hand on her armored hip and the other gently holding mail-draped reins. She rode with the practiced ease of one who'd spent her life in the saddle, but her cold eyes never once stopped roving. Even behind the town's walls, a lifetime of blood and butchery had made a certain amount of paranoia almost second nature to her.

She gently eased back on the reins and her restive steed drew to a halt at the edge of the town square as he pawed at the damp earth. Jehan raised an eyebrow at the supply train that was apparently accompanying them. Still two hundred gold was enough to buy even her silence. Let the locals throw away the lives of their beasts and people. She wasn't getting paid to advise, just to deal with a problem. A problem she hoped was one of the more mundane kind. Human bandits or maybe some desperate peasants driven to revolt. That would be far easier to handle than … the alternative. She shuddered under her armor and made yet another sign against evil.

She urged Briar onward and drew up opposite her compatriots. What a motely lot they made. Herself, the legacy of a lifetime of secrecy and pretense, the actual Bretonnian knight, a Dwarf, some Imperials and a Priestess. Well, she'd certainly done worse with worse.

She nodded pleasantly to the lot of them and then caught up her tall helm from where it hung off the pommel of her warsaddle. She hauled coif and padded headpiece into place and then lowered the massive helm over that. All traces of humanity were removed with her armor completed. Gone was any trace of frailty or worry. Now she sat astride an armor-plated warhorse, a colossus of darkened steel and bristling with weapons. Like barbaric war chief from a long forgotten time, now recalled to do battle once more. The thought of her intimidating aspect gave her comfort and now that they were on the cusp of their venture, her nerves had at last subsided.

She lifted her blackened shield from the saddle, where it had hung opposite her helm and slung it from her shoulder. That done, she checked the loads and ease of draw for her two pistols and then made sure both Warhammer and longsword were close to hand. She'd considered taking lance, but decided that even a shortened one would be of little use in dense forests she would soon ride into. She looked around the town and her companions through the narrow view afforded by her helm's eyeslits and it titled forward as she bowed her head.

She'd long ago lost any faith she might have once possessed, but somewhere deep down she offered up the same silent plea, born of a faded hope that there might be someone out that listened and cared.

Then she touched spurs to her steed and rode out of town with the unlikely convoy. Not once did she look back.
Quentin shifted his position and as weariness set in, he decided to try and get some rest after all. It wasn't as if he had much else to do. He shut his eyes and sighed wearily as his abortive attempt at rest was stifled. Apparently the Goliath … Golaithess? And her orcish counterpart were getting along swimmingly. Which was to say not at all. Ordinarily he wouldn't have given a damn. Let them fight, who was he to get in the way of some strangers' quarrel? He raised an eyebrow as the man called Renault attempted to calm the two.

A part of him wanted to rage at the two for fighting over some petty, stupid reason that no one card about. Even in his embittered state he saw no reason to try and get the two non-humans to stop yelling at one another. Even if he had, he highly doubted that anything he could have said would have dissuaded the half-orc or the Goliath from their bickering.

A wan smile flickered across his weathered features. At least there weren't any of those vile halflings here, those vile diminutives were the very essence of depravity. On that cheerful note, he leaned back against the wall once more. He didn't have any halflings to deal with and the two non-humans had quieted down. He closed his eyes once again and let his mind wander.

There seemed to be little point in doing much else and so he chose to save his remaining energy.
Quentin shrugged and smiled slightly at his failed attempt. He hadn't seriously considered the possibility of being able to wrench the bars apart. He idly entertained the thought of asking the tall woman who'd come in, if she might be so inclined. Especially as she growled something at the other, presumably Orcish, fellow. She certainly seemed angry enough to try. He shook his head. He doubted the guards would have been so foolish as to throw someone in a cell that couldn't hold them. Even if she could break free, she had little to gain from helping him escape too.

He nodded pleasantly at Renault and settled against a corner that seemed dry enough. He glanced down at the water left to him and decided it was better to save it for when he truly needed it, rather than satisfy a moment's thirst. After that, it seemed he had little else to do but wait. He leaned back for a moment and shut his eyes. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust this Renault fellow, but then again, what did he have to lose? Dead was dead.

He sat after a moment with a slow sigh. It seemed he was still too full of nervous energy to try and sleep. So he sat there in a quiet contemplation that would have done a monk proud. Slowly, almost inevitably his thoughts turned to the slaughter at the Black River. He fully realized that mulling over the ifs of the defeat would do him little good. Yet, it as if he almost couldn't stop himself. For a moment he was an observer of himself as he rode headlong into the fray. The clash of steel, the roaring of the river and the screams of the dying rang out as clear if he was truly there again. The memory of the stench of blood and ruptured organs rose so strong that he could almost taste the remembered smells, and he almost gagged involuntarily, jarring himself from his reverie.

He blinked, shook his head and grunted. The disastrous clash, he didn't call dare call it a battle, was over now and would forever remain in his past. With nothing he really cared to think on and sleeping eluding him, Queuntin de Brey leaned back against the cold stone and stared blankly at the all, as he waited to die.
I'm gonna hold off until after Poo's response.
Aight, I'm willing and able to collab if someone wants. Otherwise I'll probably type up something nice and quick-like and then get to the slaying monsters business.
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