Hmm... Hi Hazmat. It's been a long time since we're last simultaneously online. Anyway, I take it that your post is only partially done? Because it doesn't link up well with mine.
Also, I find the mention of our metal breaking easily to be troubling, because the Daemonrexa are very good in metallurgy and alchemy.
Darkraven Member
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STATUS: The hidden benefit of wearing 8 rings total? They double as a pair of brass knuckles in case you get into a fight. 8 yrs ago
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The hidden benefit of wearing 8 rings total? They double as a pair of brass knuckles in case you get into a fight.
8 yrs ago
Just as we would turn around and condemn or laugh at our ancestors for their barbarism, our descendants will do the same.
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8 yrs ago
I'm happy with participating in a single RP - Something tells me I'm the only one?
8 yrs ago
In Batam for a month after quitting my job. Been powering through my writing since. I guess this is where I call myself a full-time professional writer.
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Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I fired a PM at you, Az! Catch! :D
So basically suicide is wrong because one person's suffering is immaterial compared to those around him? Point taken.
But anyway, suicide is often the result of a well thought out decision. What lead to that decision? Simple. You put that guy in a God damn box for a few decades and keep prodding and poking and kicking and screaming at him until he breaks. That's how he made the decision to opt out of life and get out of that box. It's usually not because of one thing that lead to suicide, it all builds up.
In other words, you people treat the victim like crap and expects them not to opt out, then condemn them when they did. What the hell? It's like a lifetime of mental torture that is demented, especially considering that the surest way out is barred as well.
In other words, to nip this problem.in the bud, start treating people right, and giving them their right over their own life is one of them.
But anyway, suicide is often the result of a well thought out decision. What lead to that decision? Simple. You put that guy in a God damn box for a few decades and keep prodding and poking and kicking and screaming at him until he breaks. That's how he made the decision to opt out of life and get out of that box. It's usually not because of one thing that lead to suicide, it all builds up.
In other words, you people treat the victim like crap and expects them not to opt out, then condemn them when they did. What the hell? It's like a lifetime of mental torture that is demented, especially considering that the surest way out is barred as well.
In other words, to nip this problem.in the bud, start treating people right, and giving them their right over their own life is one of them.
Sauron The Dark Lord said
I can't manage more than one without becoming even more involvingly distant.
Heh, I'm already risking it by joining this one, making two active RPs simultaneously. Preferably, one at a time is ideal.
HazmatMedic said
Sorry about my glitched post. It was about one in the morning when I put it up.Hopefully, I'll bump into a few more nations soon.
Hahaz... I thought it was all intentional to reflect the governor's state of mind and stuff...
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I'd be around longer if you'd tell me a few things...
- What's the date and time around Fuad and Terry's end?
- What's the date and time when they arrive somewhere near Valentina?
- How do you want to do this? I do have a few ideas of my own.
- What's the date and time around Fuad and Terry's end?
- What's the date and time when they arrive somewhere near Valentina?
- How do you want to do this? I do have a few ideas of my own.
Whoa, that's alot of RPs you're getting involved in. You sure you can handle that? I've learnt not to bite off more than what I can chew after years of experience having my fun ruined and ruining other people's fun :D
Yes, that would be preferably, for what else do we do in a roleplay if not to make posts? :D
Alfhedil seems to have disappeared. I think Isbis is probably out of the game, and I'm hoping that ASTA will be approved soon. I might roleplay with Ralgon Empire and Hel Core soon.
Posted. If there's anything that needs change, do tell me. :)
Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph
Far in the horizon, as the stars and moon were up, a row of black ships appeared, sparing dots of light decorating them, complementing the stars behind. As they came closer, their immaculate formation becomes more apparent, and so were the battered, smaller ships they were towing. In the previous day, the ominous fleet had managed to chased down another, defeating them with ease and seizing their surviving crew and ships.
As the black ships came into proper view, so did the garish details - each ship had the head of some huge, frightening beast mounted on the front, some had grotesque versions of Daemonrexa instead. The name of each ship were written in huge letters unknown to the Naqah. Longer and smaller strings of letters were found along the sides of the galleys, good luck charms and spells to ward off disaster. Crowning the fleet was an enormous ship, as big as they come, its ram the size of a small house, the ornate head mounted on its front staring down at any that would make eye contact with it.
Slowly but surely, the black ships came even closer, and soon people could be seen on it, not Naqah, but even more Daemonrexa. The Warmaster could be seen at the head of the command ship, his eyes literally glowing red with anger as he and his soldiers sighted the burnt out remains of the galley they had lost.
Upon making landfall, the 8 ships began disgorging marines, who sprinted from the low waters onto the beach, quickly forming up to prepare for the worst - be it a full frontal attack by an invisible enemy or an ambush. All in all, 450 marines disembarked, leaving another 450 on the decks of the ships, some to guard them from boarding attempts and others to support the formations of marines on the beach with bow and ballista fire. Torches were lit, and the formations could be seen bristling with horns of all patterns and shapes, armour glinting in the near darkness only dispelled by the town they had landed near. With a single order, the marines had organised to form a semi-circular formation. With multiple classes of Daemonrexa present in the their military, their formation would be well-rehearsed with predetermined patterns arranging the different classes of Daemonrexa. In this case, the Maniples were arranged with all their Nephilim in the front, interlocking with some Maniples that placed smaller Daemonrexa together with them.
Some night-walking Naqah were seen running away in fright, screaming of demons from hell and the end of the world coming, but the soldiers cared little for them, and the Zealots and Overseers took note, thinking that the worse that could happen was a disorganised rabble of humans coming out to meet them in a one-sided battle.
In the middle of the columns, a meeting between the Warmaster and his Overseers were held. Amongst them was one half-crazed, terrified female human, completely naked and covered in filth, cuts and bruises. An Incubus jailer had her on a chain, which was leashed onto an iron collar on her neck. Her wrists were similarly put in irons around her back. "Are those your people, animal!?" A Mediocris questioned the pirate prisoner in her own language harshly, referring to the pirate corpses that were put on display on the beach. When she did not answer, perhaps out of sheer sadness over her own condition or sympathy for her dead comrades, he kicked her in the stomach, and forced her to kneel. The Mediocris, one of the overseer, drew his broadsword and jabbed it threateningly at her bosom.
"Yes, yes!" The pirate replied immediately and desperately, "No more, please! Don't touch me again, please, I beg of you-!" The Mediocris, insulted by what he perceived to be an arrogant demand, punched her in the jaw before she could finish. The prisoner fell but was held up by her iron collar. Forced by the iron collar choking her, she go back up to kneel again. Blood trickled down her chin. Resigned to her fate, she looked down on the ground once again, seeing only an eternity of threats, tortures, forced labour and forced unions in the sand, if her first day with her captors were any indication that the stories of how the Daemonrexa punish criminals were true.
"The village here could be enemies with these human criminals." Another Mediocris Overseer kicked off the conversation between leaders. "We know little of this place, except that it is not human country."
"It means little." The Warmaster's voice boomed, and all heads turned to regard their general, "I have been at war with these foul creatures for more than a century now." The massive Nephilim, for a moment, turned to stare spears at the wretched woman on the sandy floor, "And I know for sure that they are as cunning and evil as they come. They will hide anywhere like maggots in an old steak. They multiply like flies and rats. They could turn a pristine paradise into a criminal haven overnight."
"Our Warmaster speaks wisdom once again." A Familiar Overseer spoke out when the Warmaster was done, "I have several hypothesis regarding these corpses on sticks. Belial could be right, but he could also be wrong. These pirate things will turn on their own very quickly. The corpses displayed could be a trick, done at the cost of a few of their own soldiers. Or... or the village here could be subjugated by them, and it would thus fall on us to liberate it." The rest of the Overseers were silent, the Familiar having covered every possibility.
The next point of discussion fell on their next course of action. An Incubi Overseer suggested sending in a group to parley with whomever was in the village, but it was considered too risky. A Nephilim Overseer suggested sending spies, while another a century to skirmish with what forces lay beyond the veil of darkness. The Warmaster wanted to march in as a whole, with the only Familiar Overseer's idea to have some of the best infiltrators surrounding the main column to warn of any ambushes set for them.
The Succubus survivor, Shenda, stirs uncomfortably in her hospital bed, naked except for the huge amount of bandages applied on her. Her uniform and armour were all taken off her. As the Naqah values modesty, a blanket had been drawn up to just above her breasts. While she disliked being forced to cover herself, she enjoyed the warmth that the blanket was providing all the same. Shenda was the only one amongst the three who was unable to sleep. Listening to the contented snores of her Nephilim Overseer and the Imp Zealot, she tried to sit up but the pain in her stomach forced her back down, spreading like lightning across her body. There was still pain all over her in the past few days - she could only be glad that it was gradually lessening. As for walking, Shenda had given that up a long time ago. If moving even slightly could cause so much pain, what more would walking or even standing around do? Even bending her knee at times would hurt. Although the pain was not as hellish, she didn't dare try again. She was essentially bedridden, and the experience had broken her self-confidence and esteem. Whenever no one was looking, especially her Overseer, she would cry quietly to let a small trickle of this pain out.
Just like what she was doing at present.
Far in the horizon, as the stars and moon were up, a row of black ships appeared, sparing dots of light decorating them, complementing the stars behind. As they came closer, their immaculate formation becomes more apparent, and so were the battered, smaller ships they were towing. In the previous day, the ominous fleet had managed to chased down another, defeating them with ease and seizing their surviving crew and ships.
As the black ships came into proper view, so did the garish details - each ship had the head of some huge, frightening beast mounted on the front, some had grotesque versions of Daemonrexa instead. The name of each ship were written in huge letters unknown to the Naqah. Longer and smaller strings of letters were found along the sides of the galleys, good luck charms and spells to ward off disaster. Crowning the fleet was an enormous ship, as big as they come, its ram the size of a small house, the ornate head mounted on its front staring down at any that would make eye contact with it.
Slowly but surely, the black ships came even closer, and soon people could be seen on it, not Naqah, but even more Daemonrexa. The Warmaster could be seen at the head of the command ship, his eyes literally glowing red with anger as he and his soldiers sighted the burnt out remains of the galley they had lost.
Upon making landfall, the 8 ships began disgorging marines, who sprinted from the low waters onto the beach, quickly forming up to prepare for the worst - be it a full frontal attack by an invisible enemy or an ambush. All in all, 450 marines disembarked, leaving another 450 on the decks of the ships, some to guard them from boarding attempts and others to support the formations of marines on the beach with bow and ballista fire. Torches were lit, and the formations could be seen bristling with horns of all patterns and shapes, armour glinting in the near darkness only dispelled by the town they had landed near. With a single order, the marines had organised to form a semi-circular formation. With multiple classes of Daemonrexa present in the their military, their formation would be well-rehearsed with predetermined patterns arranging the different classes of Daemonrexa. In this case, the Maniples were arranged with all their Nephilim in the front, interlocking with some Maniples that placed smaller Daemonrexa together with them.
Some night-walking Naqah were seen running away in fright, screaming of demons from hell and the end of the world coming, but the soldiers cared little for them, and the Zealots and Overseers took note, thinking that the worse that could happen was a disorganised rabble of humans coming out to meet them in a one-sided battle.
In the middle of the columns, a meeting between the Warmaster and his Overseers were held. Amongst them was one half-crazed, terrified female human, completely naked and covered in filth, cuts and bruises. An Incubus jailer had her on a chain, which was leashed onto an iron collar on her neck. Her wrists were similarly put in irons around her back. "Are those your people, animal!?" A Mediocris questioned the pirate prisoner in her own language harshly, referring to the pirate corpses that were put on display on the beach. When she did not answer, perhaps out of sheer sadness over her own condition or sympathy for her dead comrades, he kicked her in the stomach, and forced her to kneel. The Mediocris, one of the overseer, drew his broadsword and jabbed it threateningly at her bosom.
"Yes, yes!" The pirate replied immediately and desperately, "No more, please! Don't touch me again, please, I beg of you-!" The Mediocris, insulted by what he perceived to be an arrogant demand, punched her in the jaw before she could finish. The prisoner fell but was held up by her iron collar. Forced by the iron collar choking her, she go back up to kneel again. Blood trickled down her chin. Resigned to her fate, she looked down on the ground once again, seeing only an eternity of threats, tortures, forced labour and forced unions in the sand, if her first day with her captors were any indication that the stories of how the Daemonrexa punish criminals were true.
"The village here could be enemies with these human criminals." Another Mediocris Overseer kicked off the conversation between leaders. "We know little of this place, except that it is not human country."
"It means little." The Warmaster's voice boomed, and all heads turned to regard their general, "I have been at war with these foul creatures for more than a century now." The massive Nephilim, for a moment, turned to stare spears at the wretched woman on the sandy floor, "And I know for sure that they are as cunning and evil as they come. They will hide anywhere like maggots in an old steak. They multiply like flies and rats. They could turn a pristine paradise into a criminal haven overnight."
"Our Warmaster speaks wisdom once again." A Familiar Overseer spoke out when the Warmaster was done, "I have several hypothesis regarding these corpses on sticks. Belial could be right, but he could also be wrong. These pirate things will turn on their own very quickly. The corpses displayed could be a trick, done at the cost of a few of their own soldiers. Or... or the village here could be subjugated by them, and it would thus fall on us to liberate it." The rest of the Overseers were silent, the Familiar having covered every possibility.
The next point of discussion fell on their next course of action. An Incubi Overseer suggested sending in a group to parley with whomever was in the village, but it was considered too risky. A Nephilim Overseer suggested sending spies, while another a century to skirmish with what forces lay beyond the veil of darkness. The Warmaster wanted to march in as a whole, with the only Familiar Overseer's idea to have some of the best infiltrators surrounding the main column to warn of any ambushes set for them.
The Succubus survivor, Shenda, stirs uncomfortably in her hospital bed, naked except for the huge amount of bandages applied on her. Her uniform and armour were all taken off her. As the Naqah values modesty, a blanket had been drawn up to just above her breasts. While she disliked being forced to cover herself, she enjoyed the warmth that the blanket was providing all the same. Shenda was the only one amongst the three who was unable to sleep. Listening to the contented snores of her Nephilim Overseer and the Imp Zealot, she tried to sit up but the pain in her stomach forced her back down, spreading like lightning across her body. There was still pain all over her in the past few days - she could only be glad that it was gradually lessening. As for walking, Shenda had given that up a long time ago. If moving even slightly could cause so much pain, what more would walking or even standing around do? Even bending her knee at times would hurt. Although the pain was not as hellish, she didn't dare try again. She was essentially bedridden, and the experience had broken her self-confidence and esteem. Whenever no one was looking, especially her Overseer, she would cry quietly to let a small trickle of this pain out.
Just like what she was doing at present.
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