Darkmatter Member
Resident Engineer & Physics Afficiando
STATUS: Currently buried in a number of things which I hope will benefit the Guild. 9 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: It starts with a D and rhymes with sharkmatter.
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1233 (0.31 / day)
- VMs: 0
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Username history
- Darkmatter 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
Currently buried in a number of things which I hope will benefit the Guild.
9 yrs ago
In some ways, the guildfall was a blessing. It makes it harder for my original 2009 RPing to be found...
1
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9 yrs ago
I've finally returned to the Guild. Many months of much RPing ahead.
10 yrs ago
A thousand things to be done; plenty motivation.
Bio
Aeronautical Engineer
Irish
TV and Film addict
Been here on the guild since April '08, seen a lot of change but still love it. I've been on and off, I've GM'd fantastic projects and train-wrecks, it all comes with the territory. I once tried to make a YouTube ad for the guild because I'm slightly insane. In a weird place with the Guild right now, seems like so many names I knew are gone, but more than happy and ready to meet new people. Been writing casually for over a decade, a lot of that practice has been here. I have some small short sci-fi stories printed in anthologies but those are so heavily edited they don't even feel like mine any more.
When not on the Guild I'm most likely working, playing FFXIV or the Souls series or (insert recent must play video game).
Anyone with a passing interest in sci fi needs to read Saga by Brian K Vaughan.
Irish
TV and Film addict
Been here on the guild since April '08, seen a lot of change but still love it. I've been on and off, I've GM'd fantastic projects and train-wrecks, it all comes with the territory. I once tried to make a YouTube ad for the guild because I'm slightly insane. In a weird place with the Guild right now, seems like so many names I knew are gone, but more than happy and ready to meet new people. Been writing casually for over a decade, a lot of that practice has been here. I have some small short sci-fi stories printed in anthologies but those are so heavily edited they don't even feel like mine any more.
When not on the Guild I'm most likely working, playing FFXIV or the Souls series or (insert recent must play video game).
Anyone with a passing interest in sci fi needs to read Saga by Brian K Vaughan.
Most Recent Posts
Small bar intro is posted. I think maybe collabing the interactions from here would be best?
The dim lighting in the tavern didn’t really reflect the mood. The place was rather alive with activity. Laughter and jovial shouts carried over the smokey room and two musicians provided entertainment in the background; one played a lute, the other a fiddle. The music was lively and many of the patrons danced together in an open area free of furniture, directly in front of the musicians. Two of them, both large drunken men seemed ready to brawl. It was presumably over the gratuitously bosomed woman that tried to step between them, beating ferociously but fruitlessly on one of their chests. The one whose chest hadn’t been being pounded by the woman swung a mighty uppercut that struck the other right on the chin. Teeth were sent flying, tiny golden trophies erupting from the loser’s mouth. The recipient of the punch landed on the floor with a thud seemingly knocked out cold from the combination of alcohol and cranial damage. The rest of the dance floor erupted in cheers and jeers and danced with even more briskly.
The barkeep, an attractive middle aged woman of the name Sally laughed at the regular carry and whistled above the music.
“Give em’ a towel or some it.” She shouted half serious, half still laughing.
Just then the door of the tavern cracked open and some fresh faces were presented to Sally. She hadn’t seen these folk before.
“Well.” She beamed.
“Welcome to the Daft Draft.”
The barkeep, an attractive middle aged woman of the name Sally laughed at the regular carry and whistled above the music.
“Give em’ a towel or some it.” She shouted half serious, half still laughing.
Just then the door of the tavern cracked open and some fresh faces were presented to Sally. She hadn’t seen these folk before.
“Well.” She beamed.
“Welcome to the Daft Draft.”
I've been offline there for a few days. Time to catch up and add to the pad 
So I'm going to try and restart and finish the bar scene on my 45 minute break from work today. I'll post it then.
I think I've been overthinking it and should just let things flow along as suggested.
I think I've been overthinking it and should just let things flow along as suggested.
Charon will be welcome for sure. Shankee won't mind.
This bar scene is killing me. I can't make it entertaining enough. I'll just post some kind of scene tomorrow. Trying to make it memorable but it's just not coming to me
This bar scene is killing me. I can't make it entertaining enough. I'll just post some kind of scene tomorrow. Trying to make it memorable but it's just not coming to me
I added the Graviton Drive to the pad for now, if it isn't wanted just say :)
That could work.
Still toying with the tavern scene. I've few ideas circling at the moment and have written for a few of them. It'll be up for sure over the weekend once I'm happy with what I want to do.
Still toying with the tavern scene. I've few ideas circling at the moment and have written for a few of them. It'll be up for sure over the weekend once I'm happy with what I want to do.
Yeah because killing him seems to be the only answer!
Mr Knight and Mr Goblin have their reaction :D
Moving onto the tavern scene's expansion next, then Norak's pal then back to Shankee once cops returns.
Moving onto the tavern scene's expansion next, then Norak's pal then back to Shankee once cops returns.
“Fuuckkkk!” screamed a man. A clearly very disgruntled man. An apparently amazingly aggrieved man who felt the need to scream his anger at the world around him.
“Fuck this fucking dead ass fucking town! Fuck it all.” The shout bellowed from him like a great warcry. A group of passing young women giggled at him, and a town guard threw him an equally discontented look.
Slumping up against the wall of the nearest building, he let himself slide down until he was sitting on a pile of wood ‘neath it. Reaching to his head he pushed back his cloak’s hood, letting the evening breeze hit his face. The face was scarred, though not horribly; a few venerable gashes here and there. Long black hair hung limp over his forehead, not as long as most but not short cropped either.
Sighing as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders, he peered out across the street. He saw what he expected to see, the same people doing the same things, again and again, and again. The sheer tedium of the humdrum was enough to drive him to insanity, which he was sure many of his observers must have thought it already had.
It was then, peering through his eternal misery that he spotted it. A goblin. An odd looking fellow. Strange to see one this far from the Sands. And look! He thought to himself, the magic eater was accompanied by a Winter Knight and a rather brusque looking one at that. What were they up to?
Raising himself from his slumped stupor he decided that there was only one logical answer; adventure! The only reason two such unusual visitors would be here, and together at that, was if they were adventuring for some reason. He knew it. He could smell the adventure. It called to him.
“I’m leaving.” He declared, more to himself than anybody else really. All in a moment he decided he wasn’t doing it anymore. He wasn’t going to let fear reign him and keep him in this dull monotony anymore. There was once a time when he too, was a brave adventurer, when nothing stood in the way of him and his goals. Maybe he could have that again; or least he could try to. Anything must be better than fermenting away to nothing in this cesspool.
Scratching the rough stubble that he had recently let form, he shrugged back the cloak that shrouded his body. It parted in the centre to reveal him to be wearing armour underneath. It was lean and well pressed steel armour, of a dark tinge. Forged and crafted expertly right there in Iron’s End, the one thing the rat infested hole seemed to be good for. Striking forward he walked straight to the goblin and Knight of the North.
Reaching them he stopped before them, stuck out a palm in welcome and said,
“Greetings lads. I’m Grislock. Looking for a spot of an adventure are we?”
“Fuck this fucking dead ass fucking town! Fuck it all.” The shout bellowed from him like a great warcry. A group of passing young women giggled at him, and a town guard threw him an equally discontented look.
Slumping up against the wall of the nearest building, he let himself slide down until he was sitting on a pile of wood ‘neath it. Reaching to his head he pushed back his cloak’s hood, letting the evening breeze hit his face. The face was scarred, though not horribly; a few venerable gashes here and there. Long black hair hung limp over his forehead, not as long as most but not short cropped either.
Sighing as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders, he peered out across the street. He saw what he expected to see, the same people doing the same things, again and again, and again. The sheer tedium of the humdrum was enough to drive him to insanity, which he was sure many of his observers must have thought it already had.
It was then, peering through his eternal misery that he spotted it. A goblin. An odd looking fellow. Strange to see one this far from the Sands. And look! He thought to himself, the magic eater was accompanied by a Winter Knight and a rather brusque looking one at that. What were they up to?
Raising himself from his slumped stupor he decided that there was only one logical answer; adventure! The only reason two such unusual visitors would be here, and together at that, was if they were adventuring for some reason. He knew it. He could smell the adventure. It called to him.
“I’m leaving.” He declared, more to himself than anybody else really. All in a moment he decided he wasn’t doing it anymore. He wasn’t going to let fear reign him and keep him in this dull monotony anymore. There was once a time when he too, was a brave adventurer, when nothing stood in the way of him and his goals. Maybe he could have that again; or least he could try to. Anything must be better than fermenting away to nothing in this cesspool.
Scratching the rough stubble that he had recently let form, he shrugged back the cloak that shrouded his body. It parted in the centre to reveal him to be wearing armour underneath. It was lean and well pressed steel armour, of a dark tinge. Forged and crafted expertly right there in Iron’s End, the one thing the rat infested hole seemed to be good for. Striking forward he walked straight to the goblin and Knight of the North.
Reaching them he stopped before them, stuck out a palm in welcome and said,
“Greetings lads. I’m Grislock. Looking for a spot of an adventure are we?”
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