Avatar of Dogematix
  • Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 226 (0.08 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Dogematix 8 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Sheet moved for GM's final word.



If it keeps up I say our council should just embrace it totally and go full borg collective XD
I won't give up on you Persona!
And it is done! Feedback welcome.


Let's see what we had here then. Gore and viscera. Halloween costume worthy disguises. Manic energy well past bordering on the psychotic. Oh and of course there were plenty of those new cliques that were so popular in the assassin world... with the long coats and perfectly scruffed hair... what were the young people calling them these days... tryhards! that was it, yes Oscar was certain he'd heard a few of his waiter/apprentices use such a term before. Yes all very par for the course when it came to dealing with the cohorts of the UAA.

Yet one question remained: What were they all doing here? Assassins in this neck of the world were a solitary bunch, more likely to turn on each other over rankings and prize money, often proving more of a threat to each other than potential targets. Perhaps the organisation was going to alter their rules in some way. But then they could have left a message with them. Hmm this was all rather strange, Oscar was beginning to suspect that a declaration of a jolly battle royale would be declared.

Still he would make his way to the agents, standing by the side of the table occupied by his usual contact with his arms folded. That Mr Person chap could be a bally stick in the mud when it came to pleasent conversation but compared to his peers the box loving fellow was a bastion of good manners and gentlemanly conduct. Had some good taste in tea and tobacco as well, Oscar could not deny.
So I can't write up my idea for faction lore in detail just yet but to get the ball rolling how does this sound?

Critical infrastructure things include:

Government district - sleek and minimalist in design, leaning towards organic in shape design. Think the Pilgrims from Endless space.

Communications satellite (compulsory space asset) - allowing for more reliable communication with other elements of the colony and possibly outside traders and ships.

Hab-complex - The colony has a high population for its size and has space to put everyone.

Hab-Support Sector - As it's described above. A big population needs big facilities to help care for them. Open to other council members as well.

Monument - As described above. To show off the ideals of the colony and serve as a beacon to new settlers. I might need to build a new Hab-complex soon!

Cathedral - Name is subject to change but the idea is my faction will be a religious one with spiritual leanings. This sector whatever it turns into gives them a place to find spiritual comfort and to discuss philosophy and further their own spirituality. From a mechanical point of view it gives a morale booster to the colony.

@Skylarmore to follow.
All my posts for everything are done!

@Gummy1295I'm just gunna throw it out there and say it'd be reasonable to say the pipe Sam had is somewhere on the floor for Jeff to grab.

Or all those knives Eden offered! Shank that fly!
Sam had never been the best kid at sports so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised when his swing met nothing but air. All the adrenaline fueled strength in the world couldn't help you when you were too panicked by looking a nightmare in the eye he guessed.

“HAHA, you missed! Now’s my turn!” Came the gloating screech of the monster in front of him. It's voice was worse than its face, buzzing and grating against his ears like a high pitched whine on the edge of his hearing.

In all the confusion of his first ever fight to the death Sam hardly noticed the flick of its wrist the thing sent at him, like some gesture to dismiss him. He felt what followed it though. The rush of air hit him like a brick wall, smacking him full on and knocking his improvised weapon from his hand. before he felt it rushing past and its push clutching at him like a hundred invisible hands. He didn't even have time to scream, that came once he realized the ground was gone.

That came as a dreadful moment of realization when he regained his sense, opened his eyes, and saw the grav train looming above him. For a second that dragged on like nails down a chalk board Sam felt that stillness from before all around him. Smothering him. He screamed. With everything he had he screamed as his brain realized what was happening, as he felt the cold terror of knowing he was about to die. Helpless, frozen, tears welling in his eyes- THIS WASN'T RIGHT! IT WASN'T FAIR! And their wasn't anything he could do about it... he'd failed. All the boy could do was look on in horror as all hope left.

Then there was that freakin' flash of light! The punk rocker chick from the train was floating above him, a big shit eating grin on her face. That wasn't even the weirdest thing of it all, she was actually in the goddamn arms of angels. One that was reaching down and grabbing Sam out of the air by his coat. So was he actually dead... was this what the end looked like? Like Gem and the Holograms?

Thankfully for Sam's Catholic relatives, no. Their second giant woman friend took to the air like neither of the teenagers in her arms weighed a thing and dropped them off on the train roof.

Sam dropped to his knees, eyes still watering and panting like a damn wreck. For some stupid reason he felt the need to look over the train's edge at the empty void, like he just had to check that he wasn't still there. His stomach churned and he instantly regretted that decision.

"You... you saved me!" He practically squeaked. To purpele hair, and kinda to himself.

Sam's heart was pounding in his chest like a sledgehammer and his shocks didn't end there. That angel that had just saved him (she was freakin' huge and shone like gold so she was pretty hard to miss) was already taking off and joining the fox chick fighting the giant spider.

THE GIANT SPIDER?! That was the thing, the thing that got them before! Sam would recognize those legs anywhere. "We gotta get out of here!" He called to Purple. Except she looked like she was in a world of her own. Staring down the angel that had just saved them (had she gotten knocked out of the train too?) and was looking at it like... like she knew what was happening. Was she linked to that thing in some way?
"So the king is dead. Long live the king." Florian said to the echoing emptiness of his long hall.

"More like long live the queen." Sathulda scoffed, taking a dainty sip from her wooden cup of wine. Where she got wine in this backwater neck of the crooked islands could only be guessed at.

"Well of course, Dear, but it won't do to say it out loud."

The young chieftain brushed his hair from his eyes, letting out a great breath and slumping in his chair. Pressing his hands into his forehead as his eyes took on that distant and tired look once again. Florian hadn't been chieftain at the time of the war between the Stonecutter's and the Shattered Moon. The pacification of the more independent clans had been something his predecessor had to deal with. The old man wasn't in a state back then to put up much of a fight and his waning hold on the Goldwood elders was failing by then. Florian had been... well that didn't matter now, suffice to say that he was far from the isles at the time.

This would make things harder for him now. For the short time he'd had with the Goldwood Clan Florian had been dragging them kicking and screaming into something resembling the same world the other clans lived in. The forest ferals still demanded that a druid or a priest to give a blessing or to read the stars every time they needed to clear a new patch of trees. It made Florian wonder what was the point of clearing out all the wolves and hags!

Luckily he knew a few things when it came to reading and speaking the ways of the gods. Still this was a hitch in his plans. Florian had only managed to make his little coastal town anything worth mentioning. This time of peace and stability was supposed to be his chance! High kings were supposed to encourage trade and unity, just what old time isolationists like the Goldwood men needed to build themselves up into a clan worth mentioning. With the Stonefoot dead there would be anarchy as the buzzards looked to take what they could from his kingdom.

"There will be a moot." Florian groaned.

"We haven't received word of one yet." Sathulda said.

"Even better. We can say I saw it in the fire, that'll rally a crew about in no time." With a plan forming in his mind the young chieftain found himself rising from his chair, some energy coming back to him. "There's always a moot when the king dies. Always someone who wants to be the next king, that they can do it better. Factions will be forming, if we back the right boat then the isles as we know them may change and our could yet rise."

"So wise as always my darling." Sathulda purred, rising in turn and draping herself over Florian as he stood before the fire. The light brought a new shine to her raven black hair and the matching feather cloak that so around her like wings. "If only they had taught us politics in the priory." Her lips were brushing his ear. She had a habit of making her actions playfully seductive around Florian. He never complained about her sense of showmanship.

"I'll need what they did teach you there, Love." His voice became serious again, just rising over the crackling flames. "The only thing keeping Daigon away is gone. He'll be back... and soon."

What that meant for them Florian couldn't yet say.

*****


"Hello all!" Florian called, his merry voice ringing through the hall. "Sorry I'm late, the winds were so miserable these past days. You know how these things are."

He strode into the hall at the head of his little party of men, all of them in pelt hoods and hides that made them look half like animals themselves. Sathulda at his side like a raven on his shoulder.

Around Florian rumbled the barrels of mead they had brought along, one of the few things his little island was famous for that ever left their woods. If they were going to play politics it could at least be made more fun with drink. Florian swept his eyes along the tables, tapping his golden bow like a walking stick. They had left their weapons with the guards as everyone had to but Florian had talked them into letting him keep the sacred bow so long as he gave over the string and arrows.

"It's a good day for it at least." Florian grinned, taking a place near Geirlaug of the Broken Hammer and making himself comfortable.
I too enjoy this idea.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet