Current
...why is my youtube feed full of Jordan Peterson videos? I've never watched any of his shit
2
likes
7 yrs ago
I'll top the bill! I'll overkill! I have to find the will to carry on with the show! On with the show!
7 yrs ago
@Metadude Well, why not. If it works, it works.
2
likes
7 yrs ago
You also gotta remember partisan jokes only work for those on your side. Like if I make afor joke about the bloody Union, I'll get the support of my Northern friends but push away those Union folks.
1
like
7 yrs ago
Ja, uff da. Ække godt det der
Bio
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Name: Florenne Phila Title: "The White Spear" Age: 20 Class: Pegasus Knight Sexuality: Bisexual (No preference) Home: Edessa of Ilia
Equipment: Slim Lance, Javelin Economy: 500
Personality: Pride. Honor. Kindness. The three ingredients that form this mercenary from the cold North-East. Riding her beautiful mount with pride, fending of bad people with her honorable lance and helping out those in need regardless if they can pay or not, she holds herself in high spirit at most times. When she doesn't ride to battle however, she seems to be a highly friendly and gossipy type of girl, and she absolutely loves to talk about people's strange and less attractive quirks. Perhaps she just feels a little low on spirits when it comes to very specific things? She certainly holds that air of insecurity when she talks, despite how much she loves to do it.
Her youth is only visible in everyday manners, for in battle she maintains a highly focused and skillful air, as if she's no commoner to battle. And that is by no means a lie either, since she's been in almost constant battle as a mercenary for the last ten or so years, even claiming a title that fits her to a tee; The White Spear. Amongst the mercenaries of Ilia as well as the bad bandits rampaging over the Sacaen plains know of her and her lance with brutal and frightening memories. She holds no mercy for those that push the poor men even further down. And neither does her beloved mare, Fiora.
"Hmh, another bandit raid is it?" She muttered softly to herself, hidden by the clouds. Her grip on her lance tightened while her eyes peered onto the foul oafs with great interest, examining them and their stances before finally placing her heels into the flanks of her white mare. The gentle flapping of her beautiful steed ends, and instead aims down, nosediving towards the group fearlessly. And within seconds, she's claimed the life of the leader and his right hand, routing the group immediately. Her glare lingered on them, but noting them to be of no threat to the farmers around anymore, she relaxed in her seat. "Fiora, please place me down, would you, dearest darling?"
Dismounting, she gave her mare a soft pat on it's muzzle, handing it a carrot to chew on before stepping over to the local farmers. God, why must everyone be so... bloody tall? She thought softly to herself, though her smile showed nothing of it. "Hello! How are you? Are you well? The crops, they're growing well?" She began, leaving the poor man with no room to answer any of her questions. "Hey, did you see that guy? Yeah, the one I pierced the skull of? Did you see his face? How gross! I feel I gave him a good service today!" And before the man could respond, she turned on her heels, wiggling her fingers in a goodbye while blinking an eye, "Todeloo~" And she was off.
Alignment: Neutral/Chaotic Good
Simple description: Florenne adores her white armor, consisting of a fine molded breastplate, knee-high boots and a gentle battleskirt. She also wears a far too expensive helmet, beautifully forged with gemstones priding it. However she could afford that with her salary is up to debate, but anyways. Below her armor, she wears a spaceous tunic and underwear, as anything more is too warm. Sadly for her, all of her armor and clothing is made for children. And so, her short stature of barely 4" is what makes itself the most obvious, despite her maternal figure.
Level: 1 Basestats:
Health Points: 19
Strength: 4
Skill: 6
Speed: 7
Luck: 3
Defense: 3
Resistance: 3
Growths: Allocate the odds for levelups in the following stats. You have 360% available to allocate, or if you're promoted already you have 200%
Name: Phillipe Ecruz Title: Mage General of Etruria, "The Cold Sorceror", Count Emmenz of Etruria Age: 33 Class: Sage Sexuality: Bisexual, preference for men Home: Eburacum
Equipment: Fire Tome, Fimbulvetr Tome Economy: 500
Personality: Phillipe is not what you'd expect from a noble. He is neither a man of sinister plots, nor is he a man of great honor. No, instead he's about as average as a person can get. His everyday rituals consist of making the beds, getting up before daybreak, lighting up the campfires, gentle chatter that hardly offends anyone. He is very cautious and careful regarding more or less everything. The only thing that parts him from the rest is his seeming lack of loyalty to the crown, and that he is far more clever than his demenour and appearance may seem. His loyalties lie instead with his own mind, in the sense that he chooses his sides based on what he finds logical. And this is something the nobles of Etruria highly dislikes as a whole, as his wonderful skills with spellcraft is well renowned.. which leaves him a threat.
Neither very charismatic nor a leader type, his role as Mage General of Etruria is purely down to his abilities in the field. Presumably. His skills have never graced battle before, only jousts and contests, and so he himself frequently downplays his own strengths. Sadly his thirst for both blood and excitement not only rivals but outtrumps that of the youths he surrounds himself with, despite his skills in hiding it, and glory is a thing he seeks. A champion of the jousting fields, and mercy he hardly knows.
Ah, the shining sun. The gentle tune of the birds. A good day to wake up to. The nobleman stood gently up from his sleeping bag and with meticulous care he folded it and placed it into his backpack. His breakfast was already prepared the evening prior, some dried meat with a little salad, giving him the nutrients he needs for the early morning. After munching down his food, he gathered his tools and items together nefore taking a deep whif of the fresh, slightly salty, air in his beloved home island. His lips were curled in a gentle, genuine smile before continuing his little trek.
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Simple description: Phillipe is a simple man, adorning simple robes with a slight cold vibe to their blue-grey-ish tones. Although the garments seems highly plain and boring to the eye, the many pockets hidden on the inside which keeps enough space for even his heavy tomes are perfect for the magician. He also tends to keep his bangs and top hair tied up in a pony tail that falls far down his back, which enhances his rather feminine features.
Level: 1 Basestats: Allocate points to the following stats. You have 45 points available at level 1, with 3 extra per level above (level 2: 48, level 3: 51 etcetcetc).
Health Points: 24
Magic: 9
Skill: 9
Speed: 10
Luck: 2
Defense: 4
Resistance: 9
Growths: Allocate the odds for levelups in the following stats. You have 360% available to allocate, or if you're promoted already you have 200%
@karamonnom He seems good to me. Tho with anima magic, we'll follow the good ol' FE6/7 system of Fire->Thunder->Elfire->Aircalibur->Fimbulvetr->Legendary Tome.. Mainly just for it to be easier for me to calculate damage. Or, well, you could always say it's the same stats as a fire tome, just a wind tome for the pure aesthetics. That's also fine. Hmm.
Name: Phillipe Ecruz Title: Mage General of Etruria, "The Cold Sorceror", Count Emmenz of Etruria Age: 33 Class: Sage Sexuality: Bisexual, preference for men Home: Eburacum
Equipment: Fire Tome, Fimbulvetr Tome Economy: 500
Personality: Phillipe is not what you'd expect from a noble. He is neither a man of sinister plots, nor is he a man of great honor. No, instead he's about as average as a person can get. His everyday rituals consist of making the beds, getting up before daybreak, lighting up the campfires, gentle chatter that hardly offends anyone. He is very cautious and careful regarding more or less everything. The only thing that parts him from the rest is his seeming lack of loyalty to the crown, and that he is far more clever than his demenour and appearance may seem. His loyalties lie instead with his own mind, in the sense that he chooses his sides based on what he finds logical. And this is something the nobles of Etruria highly dislikes as a whole, as his wonderful skills with spellcraft is well renowned.. which leaves him a threat.
Neither very charismatic nor a leader type, his role as Mage General of Etruria is purely down to his abilities in the field. Presumably. His skills have never graced battle before, only jousts and contests, and so he himself frequently downplays his own strengths. Sadly his thirst for both blood and excitement not only rivals but outtrumps that of the youths he surrounds himself with, despite his skills in hiding it, and glory is a thing he seeks. A champion of the jousting fields, and mercy he hardly knows.
Ah, the shining sun. The gentle tune of the birds. A good day to wake up to. The nobleman stood gently up from his sleeping bag and with meticulous care he folded it and placed it into his backpack. His breakfast was already prepared the evening prior, some dried meat with a little salad, giving him the nutrients he needs for the early morning. After munching down his food, he gathered his tools and items together nefore taking a deep whif of the fresh, slightly salty, air in his beloved home island. His lips were curled in a gentle, genuine smile before continuing his little trek.
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Simple description: Phillipe is a simple man, adorning simple robes with a slight cold vibe to their blue-grey-ish tones. Although the garments seems highly plain and boring to the eye, the many pockets hidden on the inside which keeps enough space for even his heavy tomes are perfect for the magician. He also tends to keep his bangs and top hair tied up in a pony tail that falls far down his back, which enhances his rather feminine features.
Level: 1 Basestats: Allocate points to the following stats. You have 45 points available at level 1, with 3 extra per level above (level 2: 48, level 3: 51 etcetcetc).
Health Points: 24
Magic: 9
Skill: 9
Speed: 10
Luck: 2
Defense: 4
Resistance: 9
Growths: Allocate the odds for levelups in the following stats. You have 360% available to allocate, or if you're promoted already you have 200%
Health Points: 30%
Magic: 40%
Skill: 25%
Speed: 40%
Luck: 5%
Defense: 25%
Resistance: 35%
And a non-Etrurian~
Name: Florenne Phila Title: "The White Spear" Age: 20 Class: Pegasus Knight Sexuality: Bisexual (No preference) Home: Edessa of Ilia
Equipment: Slim Lance, Javelin Economy: 500
Personality: Pride. Honor. Kindness. The three ingredients that form this mercenary from the cold North-East. Riding her beautiful mount with pride, fending of bad people with her honorable lance and helping out those in need regardless if they can pay or not, she holds herself in high spirit at most times. When she doesn't ride to battle however, she seems to be a highly friendly and gossipy type of girl, and she absolutely loves to talk about people's strange and less attractive quirks. Perhaps she just feels a little low on spirits when it comes to very specific things? She certainly holds that air of insecurity when she talks, despite how much she loves to do it.
Her youth is only visible in everyday manners, for in battle she maintains a highly focused and skillful air, as if she's no commoner to battle. And that is by no means a lie either, since she's been in almost constant battle as a mercenary for the last ten or so years, even claiming a title that fits her to a tee; The White Spear. Amongst the mercenaries of Ilia as well as the bad bandits rampaging over the Sacaen plains know of her and her lance with brutal and frightening memories. She holds no mercy for those that push the poor men even further down. And neither does her beloved mare, Fiora.
"Hmh, another bandit raid is it?" She muttered softly to herself, hidden by the clouds. Her grip on her lance tightened while her eyes peered onto the foul oafs with great interest, examining them and their stances before finally placing her heels into the flanks of her white mare. The gentle flapping of her beautiful steed ends, and instead aims down, nosediving towards the group fearlessly. And within seconds, she's claimed the life of the leader and his right hand, routing the group immediately. Her glare lingered on them, but noting them to be of no threat to the farmers around anymore, she relaxed in her seat. "Fiora, please place me down, would you, dearest darling?"
Dismounting, she gave her mare a soft pat on it's muzzle, handing it a carrot to chew on before stepping over to the local farmers. God, why must everyone be so... bloody tall? She thought softly to herself, though her smile showed nothing of it. "Hello! How are you? Are you well? The crops, they're growing well?" She began, leaving the poor man with no room to answer any of her questions. "Hey, did you see that guy? Yeah, the one I pierced the skull of? Did you see his face? How gross! I feel I gave him a good service today!" And before the man could respond, she turned on her heels, wiggling her fingers in a goodbye while blinking an eye, "Todeloo~" And she was off.
Alignment: Neutral/Chaotic Good
Simple description: Florenne adores her white armor, consisting of a fine molded breastplate, knee-high boots and a gentle battleskirt. She also wears a far too expensive helmet, beautifully forged with gemstones priding it. However she could afford that with her salary is up to debate, but anyways. Below her armor, she wears a spaceous tunic and underwear, as anything more is too warm. Sadly for her, all of her armor and clothing is made for children. And so, her short stature of barely 4" is what makes itself the most obvious, despite her maternal figure.
Level: 1 Basestats:
Health Points: 19
Strength: 4
Skill: 6
Speed: 7
Luck: 3
Defense: 3
Resistance: 3
Growths: Allocate the odds for levelups in the following stats. You have 360% available to allocate, or if you're promoted already you have 200%
Expect a lot of death, the very first few episodes/chapters/stories will have preeeeetty good enemies to combat. And since we have only swords and bows so far, I could claim that the weap triangle is not in our favor so far.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">If you can keep your head when all about you <br> Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, <br>If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,<br> But make allowance for their doubting too; <br>If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,<br> Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,<br>Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,<br> And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:<br><br>If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; <br> If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; <br>If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster<br> And treat those two impostors just the same; <br>If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken<br> Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,<br>Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,<br> And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:<br><br>If you can make one heap of all your winnings<br> And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,<br>And lose, and start again at your beginnings<br> And never breathe a word about your loss;<br>If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew<br> To serve your turn long after they are gone, <br>And so hold on when there is nothing in you<br> Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’<br><br>If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, <br> Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,<br>If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,<br> If all men count with you, but none too much;<br>If you can fill the unforgiving minute<br> With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, <br>Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, <br> And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!</div>
