Dusty

✩ The Starlight Brigade ✩

So I’ve been following this for a minute now, and I am very interested in the idea. As I understand it you’re running out of space, but if you aren’t doing first come first served I’d be honored to enter my name into the lists.

SPIRITUM

They must’ve all at some point seen footage or heard the stories of downed airships and the spectacular pyro shows they caused. After all they were in the middle of a war and Sam himself could recall watching several videos showing both Rassvet and Vangar warships going down after taking a serious hit from enemy weaponry. Still, nothing compared to actually seeing it in person, and practically standing beneath the collapsing titan. It was strangely beautiful, a magnificent burst of color and sound whose roar could surely be heard for miles. Sam let his DMR fall to his side, the two point sling keeping it from falling into the dirt as he stood in open mouthed awe. Words could not truly describe the scene of death and destruction unfolding before them. The ground shook, and for a moment Sam wondered if he was still drunk and he was imagining the rocks rumble around him until he realized the shockwave had just reached their position shaking the earth beneath their feet.

“Lucky the damn thing didn’t land right on top of us.” He breathed, tracing the smoke trail with his finger. “Do you think it was shot down?” He asked, looking to any of the more knowledgeable squad members. “I didn’t think we would have anything capable of shooting down a airship that large this far from the frontline, unless that Sappl Springs Marshall was hiding some heavy AA up his sleeve…”

Itching to do something Sam began to pace like a nervous animal, scanning the skies for any parachutes that might’ve survived the deluge of burning wreckage that was landing haphazardly across the petrified forest. The skies were ominously clear of anything not burning, and the flash ruined his night vision moments before. Recalling his thermal optic Sam lifted his rifle, flicking the switch and sweeping it back and forth across the night sky searching, searching.

There!” He yelled pointing into a patch of darkness. “I’ve got a live one, two klicks northwest, three-one-two, and another northwest nine-one, maybe three klicks. Both should be touching down soon.” He kept calling them out when he spotted one, though his estimate of ‘live’ might have been overly optimistic. The skies were clogged by toxic smoke, meaning suffocation would be just a prevalent as impacting a jagged bit of metal. Beyond that who knew what sort of internal injuries might have been suffered from the after shock, or the burns they received from the blast. Nevertheless Sam continued giving out information on the presumed survivors until he could see no more. They were pitifully few he knew, but he jotted down their locations to the best of his memorization capabilities, than as a good soldier should he looked to Galahad for further orders, a sort of eagerness in his stance and eyes as he waited for permission to take action. To do something, anything really as long as it didn’t mean standing there uselessly watching people die.

Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

@BrokenPromise Haha, that’s too funny. For a second there I thought I was inspiring great quotes of inspiration or something, but I suppose the actual explanation makes more sense.

Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

Did someone quote me over here? I'm so confused. I got a random notification I was quoted in one of the in character posts.

Under der Linden (A Medieval Persistent-World-esque Roleplay)

I am. Actually, I've been interested in a lot of your role plays you've been posting lately. I'd like to seem a few other folk pop up as well though.

The News from Moidart

Although this role play sounds fascinating, I am somewhat unfamiliar with the historical setting. Who are the four figures you'd want the players portraying? I'd like to do a little research into them.

SPIRITUM

Finally, breaking Sorin’s somber mien and turning her bored, neutral-esque expression into even a shadow of a smile made the stinging agony his dominate hand was undergoing all worth it. Sam sighed contentedly, letting Sorin administer what medical miracles she could in their current bouncy situation while he sipped at his new drink. The strong liquor set his lips tingling, and burned his throat going down. It only took a few deep swills for the alcohol to do its work, and Sam swiftly passed the bottle on to the sturdier Ray. “Blessed Dawn that kicks hard’n a forvenmule. You weren’t kidding in the slightest. Here, Ray I think Asa finally found th’ one thing that could lay you out.”

As it often was within the tight-knit squad, it wasn’t long before someone captured Sam’s interest. He watched in atypical silence as Galahad demonstrated his talent, forging a tiny memento to the occasion from the loose residue before tossing the item over. Sam deftly caught the ball, holding it up to admire, the crimson whisky barghest within catching the light through its snarling jowls. “You’re getting pretty good at this artsy stuff.” Sam experimentally bounced the glass, testing how well it held together before pocketing the tiny orb. For him magic was a tool, rugged and unrefined much like the truck they rode in it did what it needed to do, and somehow held together. For Galahad, it was different, and what the aspiring mage might go to be capable of Sam could only guess.

For the rest of the short drive until they pulled to a stop Sam maintained a more casual good humor, cracking the occasional joke when inspiration struck. His usual high energy antics being forestalled by his injury and alcohol and Galahad supplied alternative pain suppression left him feeling happily lethargic. Whether the things he said and the faces he pulled were even remotely funny he couldn’t recall, but sometimes the other’s laughed, and that was enough for him. He jumped out onto the gravel behind the others, a little clumsier than he should’ve been. Licking his lips Sam steadied himself against the side of the truck trying to shake off the stupor that clung stubbornly in his mind. “What’d you give me Asa?” He laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m drunk, and I know that's not possible. I only had two drinks. Tell 'em Bete, you've seen me keep up with Ray before. I can hold my drink with the best of them, and that's a fact." His piece said he strode boldly forward and stumbled, falling against Zak. Leaning heavily on the sturdy red-head he grinned up at him, a look of pleasant surprise plastered on his face.

"Hey Zak, good catch. Say, are you a soldier in the WARDENs?" He clapped Zadkiel heartily on the shoulder as many a civilian had done to them all. "That's so cool, thank you for your service sonny."

I Remain: Desolation (A Zombie apocalypse RP without the zombies!)

I'm interested, reminds me of the one kids book I read, about the red plague.

SPIRITUM

Unlike the majority of the vehicle’s occupants Samdihier Zeintler was thoroughly enjoying himself. A half-full bottle of spirits clutched in one hand he pressed up against the back of the driver’s seat through the open rearview window, his chin alarmingly close to the hard metal edge, letting out raucous hoots each and every time Zak put the truck’s suspension to the test. Spilling a little of his drink, Sam (as his friends called him) tapped Zak on the shoulder, pointing out a particularly nasty specimen that stretched across the middle portions of the highway. A gouge that spanned nearly a third of the path’s available space and sunk at least a foot into the earth.

“Ooh, nice air Lance-me-Zak, Sabrina’s right you ought’a be a stunt driver. We must’ve cleared a meter or so at least, and still moving! Now put the metal to the pedal, er I mean, the petal to the medal and hit that’n o’er there!” He challenged, indicating the oncoming maw that threatened to destroy whatever intact springs remained. He gave the rest of the squad a massive wink and snapped his fingers, wrapping the mist around his digits before letting it fall away, floating like invisible paper on the breeze until they wrapped securely around the axles and shocks. A slight deviation from his typical magic, but effective, nonetheless. Instead of absorbing bullets it’d absorb the impact, or at least that was the theory. On the off-chance Zak actually took up his challenge and floored it straight into the oncoming pothole the barriers would absorb the worst of the impact and disperse it harmlessly, sparring the truck if not the passengers from a serious jarring. As much as Sam would’ve enjoyed hiking the remaining miles to their destination, the others would not be so willing to shrug it off. Pulling back from his precarious position Sam stood up straight, so that he could watch over the top of the truck’s rusted cover, banging his bottle on the roof.

“Ten, nine, eight, whoops!” His jubilant countdown ended abruptly when the bottle shattered sending shards of glass flying everywhere and leaving his hand a drenched and bloody mess. He wiped the lacerations on his grey smock, which was now dripping from strong alcohol, smearing the light fabric with blood. He winced, even in his less than sober state the light injury throbbed. “Shit, piss, hey, uh, hey Sorin.” He sank against the back of the cab, glancing back at his dark-skinned comrade, sitting stoically in the truck’s bed. “Could I ask a massive favor from you? Cause I seem to have gotten glass and whisky, and here’s the crazy part right, its inside my hand. I ain’t no Galahad but I’m pretty sure that’s not where those two substances are supposed to be, and would’ja know it, the damn thing hurts worse’n Ray’s handshakes, kinda stings too. Reminds me of that peppery stuff Asa likes, but y’know it hurts here instead of here… Anyway, would you do me a solid and patch it up? I’d really appreciate it.”

SPIRITUM

Samdihier Zeintler

Samdihier “Sam” Zeintler
20 | 5’9” | A+

_{A P P E R A N C E}

---

When lined side by side with his fellow WARDEN classmates Sam will always be a fair bit shorter than the rest, but for what he lacks in height he makes up for his stocky build and general presence. He sports a pair of forget-me-not blue eyes, a full head of blonde hair, and a relaxed mien, paired with a mischievous yet infectious grin. While still possessing the confident air common amongst the WARDENs, bespoken by his muscular form and presumed lethality, nevertheless Sam remains as approachable as ever. His mere presence exudes good humor, and even in moments of oppressive silence Sam’s plethora of comical facial expressions and exaggerated movements makes him a larger than life figure for everyone around.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Throughout his early training, different combat and physical instructors made it their goal to wipe the foolish, goofball grin off Samdihier’s face. They soon discovered to great derision no amount of rigorous nor grueling training, which shattered his body, scarred his flesh, and drained his mental stamina ever sapped his nigh endless reserve of good cheer. Sam has always been that way from the moment he could first talk he was laughing and making others laugh. He carries with him an unquenchable drive and a go-lucky attitude that made him popular amongst almost all of classmates within the Citadel. Although not lacking in intellect, for Sam is both quick on his feet and blessed with sharp wit, he has never been the smartest amongst his class struggling through the knowledge and magical portions of his training. For all his outgoing nature Sam keeps his personal issues to himself, only releasing whatever turmoil he’s hiding inside in the form of dark jokes, and self-deprecating humor. For better or worse he’s taken it upon himself, as a personal mission of sorts, to keep his comrades’ spirits high, and their moral steady. Thus, it would be fair to classify him as the first follower, willingly charging first unto the breach, and being vocal support for his friends and leaders in their decisions, motivating others to do the same. Despite this Sam is not always the comic, indeed throughout his two decades he’s demonstrated a willingness to temper his antics, follow orders and be a pillar of support when necessary.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

For a young man so jovial and motivated its hard to imagine his first decade of life in childhood was not a happy time, from day one. Samdihier Zeintler’s arrival would be on the same day as his mother’s passing, in the small farming community in southern Rassvet. This perhaps was the breaking point for Sam’s father, who did not show the newborn son, nor his elder brother much love from that point on. Sam was a tough kid however, and he and his brother Rythal had a good relationship throughout those hard years, supporting each other despite the abuse and adversities they faced. They were exceptional children, irrespective of their common backgrounds learning quickly and as such became candidates for the WARDEN training. When Sam joked about how they might one day serve together amongst the ranks of the kingdom’s elite their father snuffed their hopes with a scathing prophecy, and a good whipping from his belt. “When the seas dry up, the sky falls down, and all the kingdom is torn asunder, that is when you two cowardly failures shall be become WARDENs, bah!” Rythal was accepted first of course, Samdihier following a year after, both determined to prove their father wrong.

Away from home at the Citadel Samdihier found he excelled in almost every field. Sure he struggled through the academic side of things, and he would never be at the top of his class in any respect, but his gung-ho attitude and many helpful friends kept him competitive amongst the WARDENs-to-be. Those years which most looked back upon with groans remembering the many challenges were the best of his short life as he trained to become a member of the revered and elite force. Nearing graduation would see the beginning of the conflict with the Empire, and the deployment of his brother Rythal to the front. Samdihier would keep in close contact with his sibling, eager to wrap up his final months and join him fighting for Rassvet’s independence. Those days drew ever nearer, and at last the Citadel named him a full member of the WARDENs, but instead of deploying him and his training squad to the front immediately Sam was given a short leave to prepare. A time he intends to take full advantage of, going out with several close friends and enjoying these few nights of freedom.

_{C O M B A T}

---

The epitome of the Vanguard, Sam is a frontline fighter who rather charge in headlong than hang back and exchange rounds from range. Equipped with heavy rifle and bayonet in the heat of the moment he can become a grinning angel of death, laying waste to the enemy formations with fire and close combat. He relies heavily upon his defensive spells, which absorb the returning fire and provide a shield for himself and those nearby. His magic tends to focus on battlefield control, whether fashioning smoke screens to cover movement, or stopping hostile rounds mid flight. He also branches into explosive fields, and carries a plethora of high explosive mines, breaching charges, grenades and the like to compliment his damaging incantations. Although at first glance he may seem an easy foe Sam excels in close quarters, skillfully utilizing his hands, feet, and weapon to put down much larger and stronger foes. Or at least he did in training, Sam has no experience of true combat, but his comrades can rest assured that Sam will be the first into the fight, and the last to retreat crying, “Tallyho!” all the way.

_{N O T E S}

---

N/A Currently