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Darthgamer101

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Darthgamer101 last won the day on November 22 2014

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About Darthgamer101

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    Quarantine
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    Not dying to the rona
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    Student in International Securities and Intelligence. Graduate of the University of MMI

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  1. I am accepting, I need to look at specifically what. My new friends can tell you, but I'll give you a small heads up, my posting has been a little erratic lately. Im trying to get a good schedule up and running, so that shouldnt last too much longer, but the posting for the current thread is around once a week. There are other opportunities here as well, of course. The intro post should describe a few. I plan on running an org soon, theres a current thread for the 'discovery' of The Ledger, you can sign up to deal with an assumed mess The Maelor has made, or help him make a new one. Many possibilities abound, but just ruminate and let me know what jumps out to you!
  2. Sorting out my RP's, what is the status of "Make your bones?"
  3. Many apologies folks, summer classes are wrapping up, and fall classes are beginning- And I have made a spreadsheet. I will be looking to post, within three days of now, and will be aiming for a post a week here. If anyone is still here, fantastic, if you no longer wish to participate due to the gap, that is understandable. Just let me know, and we'll figure stuff out. Thanks folks!
  4. In finals for my summer class. I said "post today" a while ago, but this is going to be slow posting with loose order lol. Pretty much ignore the "once every four days" thing. I have taken Supernal's advice and literally set up a spreadsheet for my threads, so thereotically i should now be able to post once a week. If you all see an opportunity to post, or have an idea in mind, go for it. Obviously heed the direction i swing this thing but otherwise its coop RP, afterall.
  5. 'It made more?' she parried four inky limbs, two with her axe, two with a conjured shield of golden-green energy that projected from her left bracer. A fifth found slight purchase on her left leg, it wrapped around her. She shouted an angry yelp of pain, and surprise, but swiftly hacked it off. She then performed a highly unprofessional, and extremely angry, jerking, shaking motion with the offended leg. 'It made more, damn this.....this......tooth flower!' As she performed this dance, she took measured pacing steps backwards, constantly battling away attacks and limbs. But suddenly it ceased, and she stumbled forward from a half-started swing. Aethelcília corrected her step and shielded herself, while squinting. Her face fell even further, a bitter scowl of contempt for this being, and it's cruel spawn. Such innocent folk, salt of the earth citizens of this nation, sundered below the spiritual belt. As the monstrosity began forming the maw, Aeth was already chanting a low prayer. As the thing opened into a cacophony of gluttony and murder, she was braying at it the simple rites of the yeomen. Of fertility, of good tithes, and of forgiveness. When it finally made to grab her, she was essentially shouting. She cast aside the martial stance, and gripped her axe with two hands. The shield spread, until it was a golden opaque egg around her [1]. The limbs were weak, and this thing had revealed that they were not the main weapon she would need to be dealing with. The thing approached, and she rose the axe fully above her head, still shouting- more crude insults now, than anything else. As the abomination charged towards her. She took one solid, firm, step backwards, and planted the axe right at the top of the screaming mouth and writhing heads. The whole axe glowed green, the blade gold, the runes of the bracers dancing with life. When the axe crunched atop the beast, there was far more force than could possibly be contained by her small frame. The thing would feel as if an oak tree, old and grand, in all its weight, and fallen right on top of it. When her axe struck, her feet sunk into the ground two solid inches, and whatever birds had not already fled the woods, now fled in caws and screeches. Thwack! That, was, assuming her gambit paid off. She was determined to kill this thing dead, or at the very least hit it hard enough to communicate her most genuine feelings. If her attempt were successful, she would move on, 'to the bigger, slimy, stinking shit over there.' She would turn, the queen having won her hill. Her grip on the shaft of the axe loosened, leaving it lodged wherever it may lie. Her gaze was sharper now, more piercing than before. It had a certain, focused, quality to it now. 'That thing must die. That spawn.' She, unblinking, calmly reached her hands up to her back. Her hands were coated in sweat, blood from the effort prior, and the black substance of the abomination. But nonetheless, she drew her warbow, and slid an arrow from the quiver. Already, as she grabbed the arrow, the glowing and humming from her bracers that had dulled- revved back into a loud, deep, vruummm. Her eyes still glowed with the exertion of her woads, and she was surrounded by a dim golden egg. Those eyes were fierce, hungry, and filled with an overzealous lust for heathenous black blood. But, her body language was smooth, and calm. She nocked the arrow into the bowstring with an icy grace, her hair blowing slightly. The bracer's hum picked up suddenly, in a spiking jolt, then normalized. But now the arrow she held twixt her fingers and bowstring glowed a deep jade[2]. Lines carved along its length spiraled with the same golden energy, winding up to a bone arrowhead, which trailed green smoke. The shield around her drained like water, flowing into her, and the arrow greedily sucked it in. It now had a solid golden silhouette, along its entire length[3]. She breathed deep. In, and out. She brought the bow up, In, and out. She, heaved a grunt of great effort, and here eyes widened- though her pupils remained in the same spot they had for a long time now, Kahd'xel. In, and out, she drew the string to her ear. In, and out. She held there, for a moment. The area around her feet began to warble, floating upwards like heat lines on pavement. The arrow's light spread to the string, then the bow, and back to her bracers. The small woman stood there, a calm, green beacon of light. After a few moments, the light would be so bright it would noticeable illuminate the area, even on a bright day such as this. Her arms strained, and energy built. [1]: Expended prep: Woad of protection - Protection passive Improves the resilience and durability of inscribed items Can be invoked to procure a earthy-green shield with golden tinges. The larger it is the harder it becomes to maintain effectiveness [2]: Expended passive ability: Basically, I'm using the passive ability to build a 'shield' around the arrow, in an attempt to modify its kinetic force. You could consider it denser, or sharper, or any other narrative choice you find cooler. [3]: Gathered prep Woad of the boar: Gifts the speed of their charge, the sharpness of their tusks, and their stubbornness to the item. When moving in a straight line the item gains speed as it moves. The item gains “sharpness,” or piercing power. The further the movement, the more difficult it becomes to stop or change its course. Passive: Woad of strength Bestows supernatural agility and might to the wearer and/or use It's effect is expended into the prep gathered previously, greatly multiplying the force, and speed, of her (annotated) swing. This is now a persistent effect, and will remain until such time as Aethelcília is incapacitated or exhausted beyond fighting capacity Combat Inventory: 1: 3x holy mist 'tear gas grenades'. AOE 15 feet. Slows and weakens unnaturals. 2: Crown of Courage. Unconscious trigger will activate only when in peril. Bolsters both strength and (zen, not reckless) courage on subject and proximate allies.
  6. Little late but post comes today! Lol yall are talking parties when one of you is actively trying to sacrifice folks. Any thoughts on how the pro destruction and anti destruction crew are gonna resolve their differences?
  7. Update: Wrote a large portion of the post, need to clean it up and will post tomorrow, thanks for patience.
  8. Listen folks, I'm not saying we should form a legion of doom. But I am just gonna go ahead and point out that one hasnt been made yet Edit: I'm also just gonna throw one of my characters in the ring here, I'm currently running a thread wherein a creature created around or by Zengi is being revived, and so would very likely want to know whats happening here with this demon. You can check him out in my signature, as Sharps. I haven't gotten to but plan on running a canon thread cementing his original creation, so as to make it feel more 'legit.'
  9. I really appreciate the offer! I just got busy over the past few days, and if you ask anyone here (as youre beginning to notice lol) I sometimes struggle with, as @supernal puts it, "B r E v i T y." So sometimes I can be a little unreliable with posting, but I should be able to pump out a good'un tonight or tomorrow afternoon. The pace do be jivin, no worries. I do want to asplode your goons tho, if that matters.
  10. First, if this is gonna be our last heroic post, I only have time today to shit out a tiny pebble of a post, so if you give me until tomorrow I can write something better. Now, I'm gonna respond to some of this stuff piecemeal. We have aircraft? We have aircraft. The guns are L-Wands, so what in the Wakandan-brand of improv justifies the jet fuel here. If someone says magic, I will laugh, but nod in acceptance. I would love to get Cília in on some networking with this Caeceila Glasmann. I'm gonna use you as a footstool to wrap up my thoughts, sorry @Dabi. So, first, to respond to this. I'm not entirely sure how you would manage this, the reinforcements I mean. Generally speaking, in my time here, I have observed canon threads to be majorly different than normal threads in one way that is far more important that any of the others. Canon requires more, we'll call it, "Justification," than in normal threads. The aircraft @The Alexandrian offered, for example. I immediately balked at this. How would they know? How would they get here so fast? We have aircraft? The good thing there, is from what I can guess, there are good answers and cite-able justification for that. The military industry of the Terran Empire has communications technology, and many cities from which the airforce we apparently have (still cannot get over the fact we have one of those) could launch from in order to make this 20 minute time frame that was put forward. There are military personnel involved who could make that communication, and there are a substantial amount of lives lost to justify the chain of command breach for such a rapid deployment. So, to Dabi, is there sufficient justification for an army to be mustered and deployed? How fast? Can you cite such justification? That may sound nitpicky, but the canon as I understand it is the story of Val, and as such only deals with other canon, or in other words, only deals with whats 'real.' Do you have a 'real' way of deploying such a force? Same to this Black Blade, or Shelly, that you have mentioned. Very important questions, I think, As for my next post, and preferred resolution- In all honesty I would have preferred to have stomped Kahd’Xel into tiny particulates while spitting on his rotten corpse, in this thread, but I will deny these urges in exchange for hunting him later. In less insanely patriotic terms, I love the idea of this demon running off, and becoming something of an enemy to Aethelcília. Since she has already gotten involved here, in an official capacity, expect to be dealing with her for a long time (or until shes swatted like a pesky fly, by this greater plague demon). So, I would like to finish off this abomination with many teeth this round. I plan on doing that by planting Aeth's axe in its big ugly head, while fending off it's tentacles as if I'm rambo in a firefight. I've got both her main passives up now, so she should be fine. But, because I want this to be fun, I would like for Kahd’Xel to leave some kind of lasting scar on her. Not a maiming, mind you, but maybe a diseased cut that scars, and heals in a discolored patch of skin due to this things nature. Idk, lemme know what youd like to do. And then, I would very much enjoy if while I am unloading arrows at the fungal horror assaulting me up the hill, and struggling from whatever this wound is, if @The Alexandrian were to swoop in with a hovercraft and action-movie me out. Sorry for the wall.
  11. Whats up people, its here!! So that's the thread! I wanna note that the individual reactons, movements, and initial actions, can be retroactively played. This is still RP, of course, so you can all also feel free to improv! @Zenthaur, for example, doesn't know what's past the doorway, but he can feel free to make it up should he choose. After every one of my posts I will post here with an expander, so that the details of what your characters find feels more like YOU found it as opposed to me telling you that you found it. For now, what Jah would have seen, and what Auran and Jingles would have seen thirty minutes later- is a massive entry chamber. It has the typical three doorways, right down the middle, to the right, and to the left. The room itself is brick floored, with the walls and ceiling being supported by some kind of stone struts, but mostly natural cave walls. The room is, again, gigantic. It, as much of the labyrinth is, is littered with pillars. the walls of the room have the occasional carving, which provide some illumination due to the same glow Jah saw on the doorway. Jah, you more accurately know OF The Maelor and it's Ledger, and OF the steps needed to resurrect him, but he doesn't know the specifics. He knows something akin to a blood sacrifice is needed, and that there is indeed a demon-genie that has been historically embattled by the forces of justice sealed here, who is famous for granting wishes. He thinks he knows all there is to know, but is in fact missing many of the pieces. Play that out yourself, if you like, it should be fun. As for Auran and Jingles, the obstacle here for both of you I imagine is stumbling through something completely alien, bewildering, and unknown. This isn't your characters neck of the woods, and will feel like it. Things will pop up more individually for the both of you, but for now were just getting the ball rolling. As for the time difference, the parties will grow closer together by five minutes per round, but the actions or inaction of either party could decrease or increase that number.
  12. A book, closed generations, opens again. The book was as thick as a man's arm, and it's length resembled books none read for pleasure. Brown, and worn from much wear, with a material that was thick and firm, resembling cowhide more than it did leather. This hide was pulled over a solid structure and binding. It's long front cover trembled slightly, ramping up into a quake, before it was savagely opened up by some unseen force. It's pages turned like it had been left out on a windy day, flying over to the opposite side of the now splayed book. Waves and wisps wafted from the ancient deal-maker, dreams passing above the surface of it's pages in the form of small gaseous ropes, whose contents played out like moving paint. These ropes started in one page, and rainbow-ed into the next. The book laughed a rotten laugh. "Really, it's more like a ledger. Book is cute, but not too jazzy. 'Tome' is nice, but too fluffy. The Ledger, though, has a hint of.... officiality, to it, no?" A ledger, The Ledger, lay open. It was on a stone lectern, with chains cast across it's front. The chains were loose, but now they flexed, and writhed like serpents. They whipped into the air, and cracked in the air like angry whips, before drawing tight in whirling spools around The Ledger. The podium in turn rose from a raised round dais, there were three sets of concentric circular stairs marching upwards to the central platform, with its lectern, and it's angry chains on The old Ledger. The dais is in the center of a large, empty room, with many halls leading here. They all had doors. The Ledger is the only thing open in this chamber. A door, several doors, closed. Guarding a big brown book, full of big dead lies. They would lead out, if opened. Out into a labyrinth that protected history from the circus of wishes and dreams and ambition. A hall. A wall A seal, and a deal. A great big door, doubled up, each half the size of a two story home. A mountain, with no path to it or around it, guarded by giant swaths of deadly nothing. The Badlands, stretching out into the horizon and far beyond, hot, deadly, inhospitable. The Badlands, neighbors to Shawnee and the great wastes of the desert, the stomping grounds of The Suujali, the home of The Mahrjan, and depleted of anything worth the venture. Built somewhere north east of Blairville, and somewhere a little less southeast of The Badlands, was a library with one book, no check outs, and the world's harshest late policy. It's constructors had used magic, the natural geography, and the fierce lack of life, to hide it away. They had hid it well enough, to thwart the centuries since The Ledger's last transaction. But it had opened again, and now it smelled the vague wafting scent of childhood yearning and desperate, desperate, dreams. The Law of Salvage be damned. Amadeo Lo Bianco, the infamously exiled archaeologist, would get his relics. A good friend of his, with nothing to guide his compass except the weight of gold in his pockets, and a spectacularly talented mage, has informed Amadeo that the magic sealing the ancient doors had finally begun to wane. The Lagrimosian government didn't want anyone touching those doors, magic or no. They had been clear, many times, the rune-wrought sandstone doors of The Badlands would remain closed for all time. "Hogwash! History has the right to be seen, and I have a duty to make a killing off it!" Amadeo would claim, as he always did So it was that Amadeo called together a small troupe of 12 men and women, among whom was a talented young sorceror. Jah'Rakul, fan of the arcane, and secrets, though he preferred them together. Amadeo had hired him for his power, for his knowledge, but more than anything, he hired him because he was young. The youth, he thought, could be manipulated. But Jah knows something Amadeo does not. Jah knows what's really inside the dusty old sand-keep. And, Jah has read of The Ledger, of The Maelor, and of mirages made manifest. Those bloody scrolls he absconded with told him much, they said this djinn may not be djinn, nor a demon, but he did grant wishes. And, The Maelor could be brought back, for a smattering of red. This expedition, led by Amadeo and the mage, Nuvira, with Jah'Rakul in tow, set out two weeks ago in the mid-spring of 31 AO. But this endeavor does not go unnoticed, Amadeo is infamous, and Lagrimosian authorities have long spat his name like a curse. Civil court has been the most they could bring the despicable grave-robber to, and as a result have long been eager to throw his vile visage before the justice of Lagrian court. That time, and its crime, have come. A squad was deployed immediately and made haste to the dungeon, hoping to get there before Amadeo's expedition did. This squad of 15 was making good time, but they knew that their intel was old, and time was of the essence. It is during this journey, while resting at an inn for the first time in days, that Auran and Jingles overheard them planning. The conspiring of fate had brought them together, and they each had a story of their meeting. And this same twine of fate had spun them the yarn of The Ledger, in different weaves and pieces, both of them telling slightly different variations of the old tales. Auran would swear by The Maelor, and his minions, of his demonic power granting wishes through pure violence. Jingles told an eloquent tale of a genie, selling dreams, for no toll. One had listened to, and then made a swift bag of gold repeating, a tale of a ledger that recorded dreams like accounts. The other had overheard a crazed zealot, screaming atop a soapbox of the profaned Maelor, and of the sinners that made deals with it. The things they overhear from the exhausted squad shock them. The Maelor, or The Ledger, both? Either way they mention in poorly hushed tones that the spells guarding a labyrinth, in The Badlands, are fading. A book, they say, dangerous spirit, they say. The intrigued Auran and Jingles approach, inquire, and are invited to join them. Should they agree, they will race to beat Amadeo to the dungeon. In front of Amadeo, Nuvira, and Jah'Rakul, the orange sandblasted exterior of a mountain loomed. Amadeo's jaw was nearly at the floor, and his magi, Nuvira, frowned. The monstrously high, and jagged crag, had just ballooned into few. Sprung, it seemed, from nothing. They had been stymied for days, the map of this great thing had told Amadeo Lo Bianco it would be here, but when he was nought but yards away, it was not. Nuvira, who had sensed for the magical potency, had never seen the doors herself. It was a mirage, in The Badlands, a mirage of nothing, concealing two story doors built into a massive rock. It was only when one of the horses neighed in fear, that it's rider looked up, and mere feet from his face, stood the entrance. The doors were grey, where the rock was the color of terracotta. They were four men across each, and intricately carved with glowing runes. Nuvira's face scrunched further and further in scrutiny, and Jah would barely even be able to begin deciphering their meaning or origin. The inscriptions evoked a soft green, in their center, and a subtle gold along their trim. There were swirls, and images, and language. The carvings on the left door were dominated by bas-relieved lines, carved to look like smoke, with images embedded with it. Children playing, gold coins, sunshine on wide open pastures, kings and crowns, castles and keeps. On the right door, the lines continued, with the images gone, flowing into a black square. Amadeo stepped up to the double doors, and almost reverently, touched his palm to the door. As soon as he did, there was a bright kick of energy that sent Amadeo stumble several steps backwards. Just as quickly, the energy that was now thick in the air, began dying. A last sputtering 'NO!' before the magic returned to eternity. The glowing runes faded, but what had formed across each door at the initial burst, were two phrases. On the left, The dreamer slumbers, to rouse it, On the right Is to poison the wishing well The archeologist scowled furiously at the doors, at their words, and spat upon them. "Open these damn doors! Now!" He barked, marching to the carriage in the middle of the caravan, and ripping a canvas sheet off the top. Underneath were hammers, chisels, wedges, and rams. "I want my fucking plunder, and I want it soon. The world will remember the great explorer Bianco, and he will make every single one of you filthy rich, so get moving!" And so, The Ledger was cracked open, not by businessmen with transactions in mind, but with brutes, bearing hammers and rams. It took them some hours to crack the old stone open, and it was not clean. The doors opened in chunks and cracks, until finally, a single man sized opening was made in the right door, the floor littered with debris. Beyond, inside, was dark as pitch. The crew lit their torches, and Amadeo led the way. But, the Amadeo expedition had dawdled. They had a weeks headstart, but between lazy travel, poor planning, and the horribly bad luck of the mirage, they had squandered their lead. So, not but thirty minutes after the doors of the dungeon had been hammered through, the squad of Lagrian military arrived, with their baggage. Auran, and Jingles, were smacked by the same obscenely huge sight, albeit, with a crudely created hole in it. The officers yelled in indignation, and cried for movement, drawing swords and torches. "They can't be far!" The sergeant in charge yelled, running inside. The other officers weren't as quick, but after a moment of shock, charged in behind him.
  13. I'm not saying dying is a choice, but if you dab hard enough I've heard the grim reaper cringes so hard he won't come back.

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