Jump to content

Fierach

Members
  • Content Count

    1,667
  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    5

Fierach last won the day on September 12

Fierach had the most liked content!

About Fierach

  • Rank
    ACE SUNSET
  • Birthday August 1

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    New York City
  • Interests
    Gaming, Roleplay, Weapons, Reading, Writing
  • Occupation
    Angry New Yorker

Recent Profile Visitors

4,886 profile views
  1. There was always teaching done, even if the participants were both masters. To be stagnant was to die. The blood he felt dripping down felt good, a symphony of pain and aches that made him fill alive, and James relaxed his stance, sensing a mutually agreed upon conclusion to the duel. Michael's arsenal of wargear and abilities were a match for his combat sense and martial techniques. Particularly that energy blade of his, James had seldom seen its like, a fully prehensile and articulate and extremely deadly weapon that went against common restrictions for objects of its type. Well, Peacekeepers had all kinds of toys, he knew. When Michael called him a big fish, the most nonsensical thought struck him, a children's lullaby from a faraway land. Just keep swimming~ Just keep swimming~ Just keep swimming~ "Just keep swimming Michael. Thats what we do. Toss me my spear, aye?" The Daemonslayer replied with a smile, the battlelust vanishing about him. After Michael did so, the Daemonslayer would walk away, and leave the same way he came. Keep swimming, and learning, and fighting until the last.
  2. I like it. Granted Sheryl would be more adept in jaist's nightmare realm then the two I have there, but the low sanity is fun to work with. If anything, gms need to balance around the sanity meter then the sanity meter be balanced to it.
  3. Np. Btw, I did edit my post to have the next (current) round's actions in it so, if you need to, its there. Thanks!
  4. The weight of command fell upon James. Five were dead, one Greatsword and four Guardians. Another Guardian would not likely survive his wounds, and almost half the others had been injured in some way. Statistically speaking, they laid waste to the enemy, but their numbers were few enough and each loss was keenly felt. It was with a weary heart that James finally retired to his quarters aboard the ship, finally done with the burdens and responsibilities of command, and ensuring everybody else was settled and recuperating, and looking forward to a brief nap before the next crisis reared its head. Of course, things were never so simple. This time, next crisis came immediately, tailored just for him. There was a figure in his commander’s quarters, well-known to him, a lithe woman who tossed her blonde locks in irritation. Selene Belfreid had been waiting for him, out of her armor now and outfitted in a set of Kadian service dress. “James. I am warning you. I am not some damsel to be pulled away from combat!” “Oh good, Selene wants to address this now” he. Ignoring the Kadian knightess at first, James stalked past her and began the tedious task of removing his armor. She followed after him. “This is my home and I will fight for it! I could’ve still fought. We could have won! Do not try to control me on the field of battle ever again!” “This is your home. You will fight for it” he repeated back to her, accenting certain words, then turned his head in her direction with a scowl. “But this is my operation, Selene, and my ship. So you will do as I tell you to”. He didn’t have to even address the absurdity that they were going to win that, a battle with the second horde when they had barely managed to turn back the first. It was bravado, they both knew it, but he understood that this was her home. Used to be her home. Falling back probably felt like failing. But they had not failed yet, far from it. Selene was having none of it. “Then I demand to be let off”, she snapped impetuously. The Daemonslayer barked a laugh in reply. “Let you off? Where? You wouldn’t survive. And besides…”, he uncoupled his sword sheathe, placing it on a nearby table before facing her and striding up right before her and leaning in for full effect. ”I. Won’t. Let. You”. The young woman’s eyes could have popped out of her skull right there and then in her indignation. “You won’t let me? What right have you?!” she shouted right back at him, going so far as to lay a hand on him as he turned back away to make him face her again. Her features were flushed with barely suppressed emotion. “You can’t order me around James. You don’t have the right to do that!” “I HAVE EVERY RIGHT SELENE”, he roared, rounding on the knightess, provoked by her gesture. “MY MEN LAY DEAD ON THE FIELD. I WILL NOT SEE YOU AMONG THEM. I WILL NEVER SEE YOU AMONG THEM! I CARE ABOUT YOU TOO DAMN MUCH!” There it was. The moment stretched out in long agonizing seconds as Selene Belfreid gaped wordlessly, her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. She knew of course. This moment had been building, in its pieces and histories, in the crossed blades and crossed words, subtle smiles and loud actions ever since they had first met in that dark land of Yh’mi so long ago now. They had implied as much many times before of course, there had been instances where “almost” had occurred, but “almost” was not good enough. There was a clock between them, its hands frozen in time as they went on with their lives, responsibilities and the weight of duty stifling all else. He set his jaw hard. "I'm not here just for Kadia…" James whispered thunderously. Duty was not the only reason he was here. He could not, would not, let the knightess walk into the maelstrom of the Harrowing alone. There was another reason yet of course, one that Selene finally managed to give voice to. It was a small seed of doubt, a drop of inadequacy that was like poison, nestled unknowingly from a foolishly told tale years ago. Expunging it was a soft sob as she laid bare her thoughts, tears filling her eyes even as she looked him defiantly. “I’m not… her”. She was not. She was nothing like the woman James had lost so long ago, and she refused to be lost… and yet, like her, Selene Belfreid too would be gone and adrift without him. They gazed at each other, the seconds slipping past in silence. Feelings had built up slowly over many hard days and long weeks, turned to months, and the weight of those matters prior always left unsaid finally broke the clock's spell, turning time on once again. “You are not” he replied steadily. The hurt in her eyes came like pain. She didn’t need to be. James pulled Selene to him with a hunger and he kissed her. Her feelings warred openly across her face, shock, relief, and acceptance clashing all at once before she submitted, the knightess pressing herself against him instinctively, melting into his arms, and then she broke away and slapped the man sharply. “Y-you are a scoundrel, Sir Eredas!” she spat, quivering from head to toe. “A scruffy rogue! H-how dare you!” How dare he breach that final barrier of propriety. How dare he take advantage of the fervor of a young woman. She glared at him, and he glared right back, the corners of his mouth turned upwards in challenge. Her expression was akin to a force of nature, a tidal wave from the sea, framed by the gusting of her stormy eyes. Abruptly her quivering stopped and she reached up to latch her arms around his neck, pulling him down with greater force then he might’ve expected as she gave into the swell of her own passions, her teeth catching, and pulling on his lower lip. The challenge was accepted. Suddenly, she shoved him over onto the bunk. "As if you can order me around James" she murmured intensely, a cross pout gracing her features wickedly before she descended upon him. And so, their fates were forever intertwined.
  5. The days in transit after the Battle of the Desert Sea, as the engagement was coming to be known for now was filled with rest and recuperation, repair and rearmament. In particular, Force Majeure engineers became ever more effective at extorting the esoteric and experimental engines to efficacy. They all but guaranteed that such a malfunction that led to their grounding would never happen again. Alexa would spend a few days in the medical bay. Most of it was at the Master Knight's behest, sternly enforced by the Guardian Lena Drachenberg. The health of the Kadians, particularly that of the psyker was very important. It was especially important to Lena's own health and career as James so emphasized to her in private. Whilst the Inquisitor was there, she would also be accompanied by a few others who were healing. One of them was a man, heavily scarred by actions from past and present. He was seen carving a small statue out of wood with a heavy-set combat knife. He was a reserved man, and it would only be with the greatest care that Alexa would be able to find out what he was doing. He was carving a memorial for his friend, his fellow Greatsword, the one who had fell on the blood-soaked plains they left behind. Nobody knew when the venerable aspect of Greatswords began this custom, rumor being that the first Greatsword that started this tradition was a lone survivor of his squad from some apocalyptic event in the city of Sigil, but for every one of their fallen, a Greatsword's comrades would craft a small statue and epitaph for them. The Custode sat solemnly, his own face wreathed in bandages, for he had suffered from a powerful overhead swing that cracked his helm during the battle, breaking his nose and fracturing his cheekbones. His name was Davath, Davath Melenin, and his friend was Dastan Begum. Even amongst the elite, Dastan was renown as a prodigious warrior, a swordsman of such ability he was originally tapped to help train the new aspect of Vanquishers, but brotherhood led him to decline. He had been satisfied being where he was amongst the killing vanguard of his fellow Greatswords, bolstering their morale with his sheer skill at arms, besting them in training matches and buying many rounds of drinks afterwards to celebrate. Davath put his mediocre skill at carving to form, sculpting out a likeness of his fallen friend. Together, he and the other Greatswords of the squad would give Dastan his due whenever, if they returned to the Komturie at last. If Alexa looked closely, she'd be able to see the epitaph they had decided upon, written down on a nearby piece of paper. "Dastan Begum. He never failed to take our drinking change after the sparring mats. Our livers might not agree, but we give our thanks for your passing. So here's to you. Save us a cup where you're heading brother."
  6. Wat. This is a travesty of such high magnitude that I may quit Valucre over it. HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE WATCHED THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY?! Not that I can really claim the high horse. I never really watched Star Trek. Also never played Maple Story or Gunbound.
  7. Fierach

    General chat thread

    I personally like delivering sick burns while stabbing somebody. Now to build a flamethrower into a pen so I can do that on so many levels.
  8. I will see what I can do. I'm sure I can get myself into trouble elsewhere.
  9. Also I sense impending disqualification due to puns for @The Alexandrian I'm kidding of course. or am i?
  10. TO ALL CONTESTANTS: Given popular request, and from viewing the current status of your fights. You will all be given two weeks more to finish them, until Oct 30th. Also I'll probably revamp and rework Wildblade and reintroduce that as an event later on since there seems to be no interest whatsoever.
  11. "To your stations !" James roared over the din just inside one of the primary embarkment ramps. "Move!" Outside the din of battle became muted, but they could still hear the endless bellowing of the chaos horde. A sharper sound came, a screaming that grew in intensity immediately before it terminated in an abrupt jolt, the vessel shuddering. One of the Towers had gotten within range and was lobbing fresh shells at the airship. The void shielding held, but the impact could be clearly felt. James stretched out an arm to steady himself, and then helped up a slumped Guardian, foisting him off on a comrade. “Get the wounded to medical, now!” he glared over at Lena and the inquisitor Alexa, the former who quailed under the battle-fury still present in his eyes. “One job, Guardian! Get Ms. Caelestia back to the infirmary!” his voice was no less thunderous when he turned to Alexa, “Inquisitor! You are wounded. You will desist from using your psyker powers in your condition aboard my ship before you lose control in your weakened state and tear an opening in the shielding from the warp!” It was not a request, more like a statement of fact, as if the Daemonslayer’s own indomitable will could change reality to fit it. In the bridge of the ship, matters were no less hectic. Captain Clavis displayed his mastery of the frigate’s abilities and his command of the crew and coordinated the vessel’s escape. More shells rattled off the Imperator Bellum’s shields and the ship responded in kind, lancing out and devastating many of the smaller daemon war machines on the ground as they made good their escape. Two miles away from the battleground they made their exit, the experimental engine opening a new tear in unreality for the ship to pass though, to continue on their path within the Harrowing. The battle was over. The war went on.
  12. Fierach

    General chat thread

    Unfortunately the citizens of one nation refuse to accept the other nation's dance of the tango, and vice versa for the former's waltz. In time, the differences in tempo, timing, and style prove irreconcilable and the two rulers are forced out of power, and flee into the mountains to live out the rest of their lives in harmony. Many years later, a video showcasing a new form of dance fusion of both styles appears mysteriously in the kingdoms and brings peace once more.
  13. I'll just write my characters working out all the time... until one day...
  14. ... not sure what you're challenging. He fired it for 8 days. Either it was so underpowered the neighbors were like MARTHAAA, the neighbors shooting at us with the museum piece again on the 8th day and finally phoned it to the police in because the noise was more devastating then any actual damage it caused... or well.. That's it pretty much. Thanks for proving my point >_>
  15. For me, overpowered is contextual, both in environment and usage. If you're in a medieval setting where the majority of players and npcs around you are wielding sharp sticks and swords, and you bring a technologically advanced weapon like a modern 21st century firearm, that's overpowered. If you're in a futuristic setting, everybody has a mech, force fields, and power armor with force fields on top of your force fields, and you bring a modern 21st century firearm, that's underpowered. Referencing an old dungeons and dragons session I once heard about, If you have a seed that can instantly grow into a tree, that can be considered overpowered, if you entered a competition about gardening. But what if you play smart and toss it into an attacker’s mouth just before it grows? A giant lycan bites your hand off and dies instantly being exploded by a tree growing inside it. That’s kinda OP isn’t it? Obviously, some sorts of tech/magic/ability are more prone to becoming "overpowered" then others. See, water manipulation. What if your water manipulation ability is so fine and powerful you can rip the water from somebody’s blood? Planar magicks and gravity manipulation are commonly used “overpowered” magicks, as are telekinesis and psychic powers. Super-speed is hilariously overpowered if used correctly and with the correct supporting abilities. Although I guess now we’re beginning to fall into the realm of something being “abused” or “minmaxed” rather than actually being overpowered.
×
×
  • Create New...