Avatar of Bork Lazer

Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Vote in my new quest, Mirage, a RP quest set in the far, far future roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Kink-Shaming. Kink-Shaming Never Changes.
3 likes
3 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… Vote for Dead in Depression. The mechanics of the quest have now been posted!
3 yrs ago
Voting is open until the end of the week! Please come and vote! - roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1 like

Bio





ROLEPLAY BUCKET LIST
- Walmart Apocalypse Roleplay
- Nightmare Gas Station
- Underrail/Fallout/Post Apocalyptic Roleplay. Codename: Clausterclysm
- Anthromorphic Grimdark Animal Fantasy Roleplay. Codename: Fallowbrook.
- Eldritch Abomination Garfield Roleplay. Codename: Lasagna.
- Infinite IKEA Roleplay. Codename: God Morgon
- Roleplayerguild High School RP. Codename: Highschool Roleplay
- Cyberpunk South East Asia RP. Codename: Straits of Malacca. [CURRENTLY HAPPENING]


CURRENT PROJECTS

- FRAYED TAPESTRY - AN EPIC FANTASY RP (WIP)
- THE LAST DEPRESSION - A RED MARKETS QUEST/PLAY BY POST RP (UNDECIDED)

Most Recent Posts


Moved my character over to another sheet and changed the Earth the Shadowpact is in from Earth Prime to another Earth.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L


♦ M A G I C A L M I S F I T S ♦ L O R D S O F B A L A N C E ♦ E A R T H 97393745
W H A T I F T H E P H A N T O M S T R A N G E R W A S M I S S I N G?:



For aeons, the Phantom Stranger, emissary of the Spectre and keeper of all, has watched over the garden of the Maker. His silent vigil is endless and without rest, for he sees all and watches all, wandering across all of existence to perform his duty. It is his unending watch that keeps the realm of mortals at peace and his tireless actions which prevent the scales from tipping too far out of balance.

Now, he is missing.

Those on the mortal plane would not notice his presence but those who traverse the other side can feel his absence. The cold winds in the alley. The lengthening of the shadows. The growing silence. Without his gaze, the cosmos begins to unravel.

Left with no other options, Madame Xanadu has had to peer deep into her blackest ledger to find six individuals capable of undertaking a cause, deemed hopelessly lost to most…

That’s where they come in… The Shadow Pact.

Six heavy debts. Six misfit souls. Six months to rebalance the scales.

A tatterdemelion without a cause.

A spirit of vengeance.

A sword wielding dreamer of the past.

A damned beast.

A man of destiny.

A child of the black moon.

In short, we’re all fucked.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ):

Think ‘Suicide Squad’ meets ‘Justice League Dark’. Me and @Abstract Proxywant to create something pretty wonky and this feels like the right environment to do it in. We’re mixing in several magical characters from both DC and Marvel into some weird-ass cocktail you find in a seedy little bar at 1 AM and hoping that it works out for the worst (in all the best ways).

The main beat of the starting storyline is that the Phantom Stranger is missing. How and why you might ask? Well, that’s what this cast of characters have to find out as they have to learn to work together and discover that the real Phantom Stranger was the friends they made along the way.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Shadowpact Members

- Ragwoman (Abstract Proxy)
- Ghost Rider//Johnathon Blaze (Bork Lazer)
- Guillotine//Jeannine Sauvage (Abstract Proxy)
- Werewolf By Night//Bigby Russell (Bork Lazer)
- Doctor Occult//Tim Hunter (Bork Lazer)
- Sister Grimm//Nico Minoru (Abstract Proxy)

P O S T C A T A L O G:

N/A
I’ll let @Abstract Proxy answer that one. I prefer to think it’s just a gender swap but alas, the character is their own to shape.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L


♦ M A G I C A L M I S F I T S ♦ L O R D S O F B A L A N C E ♦ E A R T H 97393745
W H A T I F T H E P H A N T O M S T R A N G E R W A S M I S S I N G?:



For aeons, the Phantom Stranger, emissary of the Spectre and keeper of all, has watched over the garden of the Maker. His silent vigil is endless and without rest, for he sees all and watches all, wandering across all of existence to perform his duty. It is his unending watch that keeps the realm of mortals at peace and his tireless actions which prevent the scales from tipping too far out of balance.

Now, he is missing.

Those on the mortal plane would not notice his presence but those who traverse the other side can feel his absence. The cold winds in the alley. The lengthening of the shadows. The growing silence. Without his gaze, the cosmos begins to unravel.

Left with no other options, Madame Xanadu has had to peer deep into her blackest ledger to find six individuals capable of undertaking a cause, deemed hopelessly lost to most…

That’s where they come in… The Shadow Pact.

Six heavy debts. Six misfit souls. Six months to rebalance the scales.

A tatterdemelion without a cause.

A spirit of vengeance.

A sword wielding dreamer of the past.

A damned beast.

A man of destiny.

A child of the black moon.

In short, we’re all fucked.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ):

Think ‘Suicide Squad’ meets ‘Justice League Dark’. Me and @Abstract Proxywant to create something pretty wonky and this feels like the right environment to do it in. We’re mixing in several magical characters from both DC and Marvel into some weird-ass cocktail you find in a seedy little bar at 1 AM and hoping that it works out for the worst (in all the best ways).

The main beat of the starting storyline is that the Phantom Stranger is missing. How and why you might ask? Well, that’s what this cast of characters have to find out as they have to learn to work together and discover that the real Phantom Stranger was the friends they made along the way.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Shadowpact Members

- Ragwoman (Abstract Proxy)
- Ghost Rider//Johnathon Blaze (Bork Lazer)
- Guillotine//Jeannine Sauvage (Abstract Proxy)
- Werewolf By Night//Bigby Russell (Bork Lazer)
- Doctor Occult//Tim Hunter (Bork Lazer)
- Sister Grimm//Nico Minoru (Abstract Proxy)

P O S T C A T A L O G:

N/A

I've spent an hour looking at this post. Pouring all over the incessant details. Typing this message up has been perhaps harder than any post I've done on this forum by far so I suppose I'll meander a bit before I get into the meat. It's a culmination of several things but the lion's share of that can be attributed to recent extenuating factors in my life alongside other reasons as well. This is not a hiatus. If life is a play, then, this act of my life is coming to a close and it's better to end on a proper denouement than an anti-climax. I must also admit there is a certain art in succinct goodbyes but I can't bear within me to perform rhetorical artistry. So, I'll suppose I'll start with a phrase.

Yahoo chats.

I suppose that was how I first discovered the world of play-by-post roleplaying back in 2014. Almost 10 years ago. I was 14, then. In retrospect, my life would take an entirely different route if I hadn't responded to that person on that day but lo behold, I did and look where it's led me today. I then went through several phases: RPNation, Iwaku, Reddit before I landed here on the Guild. This is by far the RP forum that I've stayed consistently on by far and I have struggled to understand why I stick by it all these years.

Its UI is janky, the number of members compared to other RP boards is low, BBcode support is low compared to other boards and there are a host of other issues with the Guild that numerous people have complained but upon reflection, I wager that it is the diversity of the community and the unique idiosyncracies of many members on here that have kept me attracted to this forum. Yes, if you measure by objective standards, other forums supersede the Guild but none of them have made an impact on me as an individual quite like this one. I will forever cherish the connections I have made here and what I've learned but this hobby just isn't sustainable for me anymore.

And it's led me through a foray of both great and bad, educational and propagandistic, fast and slow encounters with a multitude of individuals over the years. Approximately 6 years in fact. I'd like to take a moment to mention some of these people.

@Abstract Proxy - We've said all that there needs to be said between us. I consider you one of the most important people I've met on this forum over the last 5 years and you are perhaps the most wonderful writer I've ever met. We joked before about RP hiatuses and looks I'm going to be taking the biggest one out of both of us by far.

@AndyC - I enjoyed the last few months blasting mechs with a tank. Sorry I couldn't keep up with the IC.

@Opposition - I'm sorry I couldn't give OD and DD justice. If and when the RP was completed, I would end their arcs with A Real Hero but alas, it didn't pan out the way it did.

@Master Bruce - I think one of my first group RPs here was the Ultimate DC/Marvel games you and Lord Wraith organised. I enjoyed playing Static and Shining Knight on every RP that the group organized. It gave me a real love for some of the underrated characters in those universes and made me realize my joy in roleplaying.

So, why am I doing this? I could blame it due to IRL factors but overall, roleplaying is not as fun as it used to be. I've voiced my frustrations over the years but roleplaying has become a chore rather than something I look forward to now. Recent events have caused me to re-evaluate my perspective on my hobbies and I will admit that the majority of the posts on this forum have been done under situations of duress rather than under relaxation. Perhaps, it is my perfectionist nature that is the foundation for the numerous writer's blocks I've had over the years but this is no longer the sustainable hobby I once had in my early years. Roleplaying for me takes more than it gives now. It is a tickbox on a list of weekend chores rather than something I could once do in my free time and bare my soul to the keyboard. It has become harder and harder for me to post consistently and harder and harder for me to perform as well as I could three years ago. I might have improved in skill and experience but my output has considerably declined. My academic and professional responsibilities have caught up to me as well. What is the point in pursuing an escapist hobby if what I escape to doesn't provide succor and comfort?

So, consider this my official, not to be repeated once more, retirement from roleplaying. I will be on the forum from time to time to take a look but it's the equivalent of parsing through a store window in the middle of a weekend stroll. I might write one or two things in the future if time permits me but in terms of the field of play-by-post roleplaying, this is the end. It is to my shame that I can never claim to have a completed RP but I suppose that is the final nail in the coffin for this post.

I will be on Discord as usual but not for the purposes of roleplaying. I am not completely abandoning the relationships I've made here but I can't engage in the self-destructive cycle of on-and-off engaging and abstaining I've imposed on myself anymore.

Hit me up on Discord but otherwise, this is the end of roleplaying for me in the foreseeable future.

I hope all of you continue to find success in your roleplays.
@ErsatzEmpress I’m dealing with serious IRL shit at the moment right now which is why I’m rescinding my position for Doctor Strange after one post. I know this is sudden but I cannot delve into another one of these comic book RPs at the moment.









volume 1: hanged tree

chapter 1.1

the cell is dark, beyond light, beyond the realm

in its stygian iron bars a hermit lingers

meditating in ennui

rust creaks

sun enters, seeking truth

and a tale is spun





So, finally, you've come. If you are here to extract the truth, then, you shall find it long and protracted. Ah, so quick to anger with that old hex. Let me remind you of your superior's punishment and consider weighing that against the barb of my tongue. I see you have found your wits.

Now, sit. Pacing around the room angrily like an angry mule is unbecoming of any practitioner of the Mystic Arts, even one as foul and deluded as yourself. Sit like me. No, don't cross your legs like that. Breathe in past your diaphragm and concentrate on your first chakra. Your stomach. The one - Are you telling me a well-funded organization like yourself can afford to bind me to this godforsaken rock and yet, fail to teach its pupils the basics of meditation? Ah, where is the Dread One to soothe the aches of incompetence I see before me? Do so again and - it is like a poker on your belly. Concentrate, yes. Now, temper it so you don't give yourself an aortic aneurysm. There. You see, this should give you enough patience to bear my tale.

No, why would I give the last piece of the puzzle to you? Regale me with torture if you must but your master won't give you the pleasure of seeing me die nor will he let me live a free man. Frankly, torture would be entertaining from the likes of you. I have survived tangling with the facets of Shuma-Gorath, face death from the likes of the Dread One, fend off the Nightmare from the aether and fought in the War of the Vishanti. Your imagination is puerile and gauche in the face of their boredom and honestly, your ineptitude would frighten me more.

So, let us start at the beginning of all things.

It begins with a mother.

Her name for me was Stephen Vincent Strange. My father was Bartholomew Strange, a tax consultant serving multiple clients in the New York Exchange. Roxxon, Hammer, Stark, all were at his beck and call. He burned books with a single-minded drive of an automaton and could never leave one number out of place. My mother was Rebecca Brandt, an overworked night-call nurse who lived on a diet of over-processed vending machine food and caffeine overdoses trying to compensate for the schedules of burnt-out nurses. They were both atheists at heart, although, they would never announce it on the census. I am and still hold to their -

You jeer at me but I still remain faithless to this day because I find no God worthy of my undying fealty or worship. I call them allies or friends, yes, in the case of the Vishanti but most remain craven such as Shuma-Gorath or unpredictable like the Greek or Nordic pantheons. Others remain inscrutable. For the ones I have yet to name, is like trying to burn incense in favor of gravity or pray to the laws of molecular attraction. A man flings himself into a hurricane and calls it a sacrifice for his god. I call it what it is.

So, naturally, my mother gave me the drive to batter myself against the marble halls of medicine and my father honed my mind to a razor's edge. There was a time we were a family. I had a sister in case you didn't know. No one really knows. Her name was Rebecca. She was the first I failed to save. It was winter. We were young. We were ice-skating on a frozen lake. That is all I am willing to part with. My life progressed on and so, I earned my M.D at the age of 21 and earned two Noble prizes for groundbreaking surgical procedures that are still in use to this day. For 10 years, St Barnaby Presbytarian became my throne, the media my suitors and I, Ozymandias. It was the height of my career and I became de facto judge, jury and executioner, doling out ridiculous fees for patients that I thought 'were worth my time'.

Worth my time.

These are not proud moments of my life.

My temple collapsed on 2005. I was driving off the coast of Baja, a bottle of rum in my hand. My blood alcohol concentration after the accident was measured to be four times over the national limit. I crashed a 4 million dollar Rolls Royce into the rocks below. My body survived, my hands were crushed and my ego festered and rotted into a sickness. A sickness that, to my shame, led me into the follies that have led me here today.

In spite of all I have learnt, my hands still shake. Why I didn't cure them with magic, you'll have to wait.

So, let us skip forward then. I doubt you want to hear the rest of my journeys. Past my trials to reach the top of the Himalayas where the Vishanti awaited me on the summit. Past my first communion with Agamotto the Wise. Past my first invoking of the sacred principalities. Past my commiseration with the most infuriating and brilliant man I have ever met. Past my first friendship with my once greatest ally. Past my first entanglement with what shall be my one and only heart.

Let us delve into how I first killed for the title of Earth's Sorceror Supreme.




It was the middle of Summer on Bleecker Street. It had been two months since I first received the post of Keeper of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum. I see you scoffing. How could I end up with such a menial post? You might remember it as an institutional relic from a bygone era of magic but the Sanctum Sanctorums were once key to the structural defense of Earth's reality. Built on continental ley-lines and inscribed in babylonian rune-script in the time of Agamotto, Earth was in a sense, shielded from the worst of otherwordly predators and beings. Think of it like a filter or a sieve.

The first rule of warding is that no magical barrier is wholly impenetrable. There is always a chink in the armor and in our case, the chink was magical entities small enough to escape our attention. Without the Sanctum Sanctorums forming a network of magical defense, we would return to the Yld Days when the Earth was no more than a nexus in a storm, when our ancestors pounded rocks together in fear of the sky-demons that conquered the clouds, when men was feasted upon.

And in return, we bit back.

But, I digress. You did not come for a history lesson. It had been two months and yes, I rejected the post of Sorceror Supreme. Before me, Baron Karl Mordo was the Sorceror Supreme. The shortest-lived Sorceror Supreme. The Ancient One, had died during our sojourn in the Wundagore Mountains. The details of how my master, teacher, friend and rank asshole of a magician died will come later into this story. For now, the magical world was still grieving. The Ancient One had lived for a good 599 years and had made indisputably important alliances, deep-forged bonds, between Earth and numerous other realms.

Asgard. The Greeks. The Purple Dimension. Weirdworld. The reverberations of his deeds can still be found to this day in the binding pacts he had made. Now, those pacts were to be tested and I, to my shame, couldn't support Mordo.

Perhaps, if.....Nevermind, reflecting in retrospection is a fool's way to trap one self in guilt.

Nevertheless, I found myself on that day sipping on a cup of jasmine tea Wong had brewed. He was out doing a deli run near Manaheim's. Wong came from a delegation of Masters from the east who sought to shore up the lacking defenses I suppose much of the weight he had gathered over that time was due to that disgusting szechaun meatball submarine he kept eating. I amused myself with the only television in the entire Sanctum Sanctorum, an old tube box from the 1980s that had been enchanted to work inside the ambient magic of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The current zeitgeist of the era was the tale of mutant rights.

Mutants.

If there was one reason to explain why magic hadn't gone mainstream, mutants were the answer. Again, that shaking of the head. I know. We could have spread the use of magic into the general populous. Magic was teachable, not inheritable. There was no abberation in human purity you needed to cast a simple enchantment. Could you imagine how S.H.I.E.L.D, the F.B.I, the C.I.A, the very public itself would react? My boy, we would see something far worse than the Salem Witch Trials.

However, magic hadn't been revealed to its fullest extent to the world, yet. No, the world was concerned with mutants and the mutants were the centre of a new Cold War. Senator Kelly was at the forefront of national efforts to suppress the growing mutant population and he was one step away from goose-stepping into a pit of corpses. Charles Xavier, a room-mate of mine in college, was simultaneously the greatest enemy and ally of the Master of the Mystic Arts. The arcane signature of his telepathic abilities was probing our mental wards and he could already access the Astral Plane. Thankfully, a vote was closed on the Council of Masters to make an attempt to globally neuter telepathic mutants using a binding curse. That would be abominable.

Whilst musing on this newest development, a ghost burst through the air in front of me, the window of reality breaking apart into a hundred shards. I had raised my arms, forming the movements for a quick banishment of the enemy phantasm from the borders of the Sanctum Sanctorum when it spoke in an unmistakably terse tone of a human. It was Wong in his astral form. I lowered my hands and asked why he hadn't bothered to rift into the Sanctum.

" Strange. Come to the park. Disguised. Keep the Cloak on you."

And it was that day on Central Park that I found myself facing a stone girl with a stone sword skewered in her belly.
@ErsatzEmpress

update on approval for Dr Strange?
The fields outlying Tie Shan Dam burned of brimstone and bullet smoke. The forces of the Heavenly Sword were like flies throwing themselves against a windshield in the hope of blinding a driver. To many in their small little platoon, it would have seemed a miracle that they had survived thus far but to Aroxy, it was textbook. The Heavenly Sword were guerilla fighters first and foremost and the bulk of their forces simply weren’t made for open-field engagements. Having two mechs on their side made it almost seems like child’s play.

The only problem that remained was their last-ditch tactic that reminded Aroxy of a chess player who flipped over the table instead of resigning in defeat. As much as Aroxy would have liked to wipe the Takka and Helma were working the Von Luckner’s auxiliary turrets, raining down suppresive fire, whilst Ansel had taken over the role of gunner. So far, there had been no need to fire any shells or their SRMs yet. To do so would be overkill and one didn’t expend their strength at first contact.

Peering through the Von-Luckner’s periscope, Aroxy noticed a black dot hovering around the Heavenly Sword’s land-train. He switched the focus, lens compensating for him to see 12 men leaping from the side of an APC onto the train track. Aroxy wondered what ploy Command was pulling with the dirty bomb. A few minutes later, his question was answered.

"Green Knights. The boys need some time to work. Thirty seconds to put the brakes on this train, three-zero and counting!"

“ Let’s position ourselves a little closer, Helma,” The female driver quickly moved back to the driver’s seat and shifted the gear forward. The Von Luckner trampled soil and grass into a smooth expanse under its weight. Everything was reduced to mulch under its treads as the poor whimpering soul six feet of its chassis was beginning to find out. Gripping his cut-open belly, he barely had time to scream before he became a red smear under the tank’s treads. The only indication the crew had of his existence was a slight jolt in the crew compartments.

“ What the hell was that?,” Ansel asked.

“ Just a little speedbump,” Helma continued to drive the tank forward, stopping on a little mound. The land-train was 3 quarters of a klick away from them. Well within range of their turret and close enough to ensure that neither wind or gravity could make them miss their mark.

“ Load a HEAP in there and start fucking up the treads. I want them spaced out nice and even. We don’t want to hit our own men, got it?”

“ Yes, sir.” Takka mumbled dissapointedly at the thought of being unable to cause a nuclear explosion. The turret of the Von Luckner began following the journey of the land train, angling slightly forward to adjust for its speed before firing its payload downrange. The shells tore apart the massive wheels of the land train like butter one by one, crippling its pace to a visible slug’s crawl. Aroxy could only hope that it would be enough to give the infantry time to disarm the dirty bomb.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet