POOHEAD189

Greetings fellow Storytellers, Roleplayers, and Conversationalists!

@MisterWelcome sir, it is good to meet you.

Warhammer 40k: The Chaos Incursion

As the Krieger spoke of Shotguns, the Arbites was just cleaning his own. Herold did it more out of habit and for something to do than boredom. All of this talk of heavy firepower made him have the...suspicion that it would be needed at some point. He had to agree with the Death Korp Trooper that if you didn't have the strength to hold a bolter (or the money) a Combat Shotgun in close quarters would solve whatever problem you had very quickly.

He had not realized that the Inquisition had gathered so many weapon enthusiasts. A sniper lascanon? He'd used a 'Longlas' in training, but never imagined why something such as that would be needed in a much bigger variant. Perhaps if some Xenos or Rebel had a particularly large organic unit far away, or he supposed a mechanical one that could have it's cockpit/power supply damaged. Herold let out a grunt, what he considered a small snort of laughter, at the fact had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by anyone other than citizens begging for mercy or innocence.

He finished cleaning his Combat Shotgun, and began reloading it. "Are we expecting a house raid?" he asked grimly. He wasn't one to question an Inquisitor, but so far he had not seen evidence of this Inquisitor and he would like to know the reason they were to break down someone's door. Not that he had any qualms about it, but he was here to uphold the law, not abuse it, unless needed to uphold a higher Imperial truth. He finished reloaded and closed the chamber of his Combat Shotgun with an audible and intimidating 'snap.'

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion - Crimson Skies

@RokkuHoshiDon't feel bad or be intimidated. I know you're busy and you probably saw this and wanted to join because you love Oblivion and the Elder Scrolls, like we all do. I know you were thinking this is like the game, and hey it's understandable with the title and setting and all XD. Who remembers killing a deer in Oblivion when you got Daedra and Politics to worry about?
But this being 'High Casual' or 'Advanced' will usually mean that we'd treat this more like a book series (and about someone usually less impressive that the main 'Hero of Kvatch') rather than the game, other than various smaller references. So making a character would be more like making an OC for a novel rather than character creation in Oblivion. I was having trouble with my CS at first too. We don't have anything against you, my friend :)

Valkyrie Theory: Horizon War [Mecha] [8*/13Slots]

Post coming up shortly folks. Us GM's just been busy^^

The Lord of the Rings

Same. We can totally try to get more peeps though I think.

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

Rannon hadn't expected such a turn of events. Already he was feeling a bit more lighthearted than he had been the past few days. There was something about this girl...

Whatever it was, he felt more casual and natural around her. He'd never met a Half Dwarf before, either.

He gathered his gear up, Gideon bouncing left and right as if to tell him to hurry up. Rannon would make jerking motions side to side to get Gideon more riled up just for fun, but in the end he realized all that did was get him...well, more riled up. "Fine, if you're so full of energy..."

He strapped some of his armor on Gideon so the dog would get some weight lifting exercise, and they followed Feri back to her campsight, letting her check for traps. Rannon did gaze about the woods with a experienced eye, his pack casually over his shoulder and his other hand gripping the bastard sword he held, just in case. Once the place was cleared though, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I have some potions, if you need something with more punch than ointment. Also, whiskey. Better for drinking than applying to wounds, or so I've found." She held a bottle in each hand; whiskey in the left, health potion in the right - looking up at Rannon with a grin. "Or how about both?" He matched her grin with one of his own and took the offered whiskey in one hand, taking a swig. He wouldn't get drunk, per say. He wasn't about to let his guard down that much in a Darkspawn infested forest. But a drink or two wouldn't hurt. He dropped his pack and slumped down on a log, scooting over so Feri could have a place to sit.

For all of his combat and gruff nature, Rannon still was a fairly young man and he let out a gasp as he finished a few swigs, blinking. "Thanks, girly," he told her, handing her back the Whiskey. "I'm fine without a potion, least at the moment. But here..." He produced some choice jerky out of his own pack, handing it to her. It was juicy and sweet. He tossed some to Gideon too, who caught it midair, and then slumped down as they had and started nomming on it busily.

"Sorry about earlier," he said suddenly, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "I've been...well these past few days have been fucked up to say the least." He muttered 'maker' under his breath, and let out a sigh. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone out here, much less someone who wasn't a Darkspawn or a fleeing family."

Tombs and Blades (Swords of the Cutlass Coast) (Lum & Poo)

Markus' head thumped against the wall his back leaned on, letting himself slump now that Valerie spoke. He swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah," he breathed, his entire body muddled with exhaustion. "For the moment, I think." He felt the warmth of blood on his hands, and he realized now that it was his own blood mixed with Valerie's. He had a large cut he did not remember receiving on his left forearm that seeped blood down his arm and onto his palm. He would have put his hand onto the cut, but it was pressed as firmly as he dared onto the spot Valerie's wound was, just in case.

Markus had been too preoccupied with making sure his adventure companion was alive, but as he slumped there, he suddenly felt naked. As if he was missing something. He blinked, and it hit him. "My sword..." he breathed, realizing it was on the other side of the stone. It wasn't that he didn't have it, but he could no longer feel its presence. The bond between Swordmage and blade was mystical in nature, it was what allowed him to use his enchantments on it and where he stored part of his own power. That stone portal had severed the bond between him and the blade he had empathized with. That was powerful magic.

He reached up with his free hand and lifted his matted, unkempt hair out of his eyes and sighed. "We'll need to find another way out," he said aloud. "I can't open that from the inside out." He coughed, his throat so very dry. He downed some of his water flask and coughed once more. "Here," he told her, giving her a bit of water as well. He knew she probably needed to quench her throat too, and even if she didn't, that blood loss...

He put the flask down, and leaned over to the side to grip the straps of his pack, before yanking it over to them. He fished in it for a moment, before producing bits of jerky he had. "You need to get some food down," he told her. "You need all the energy you can get after that wound." He grabbed a few bits himself. He produced some extra cloth from his pack, and used both hands to rip it as he chewed, and then wrapped it around his forearm the best he could. He grunted from the pain, but it would halt his own bleeding. Or the main source of it.

---

@Luminosity

House Wars and Blood Feuds In Old Venara

Guard Captain/2nd Son

Name: Meldyr 'Mel' Flintbrook
Age: 27
Sex: M
Race: Human, Talos Marked
Appearance: His hair is black and worn in an unkempt fashion, pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. His skin is fair but ruddy. He has a noticeable fit and trim body, with practiced hard muscle, though lean. His face is not unhandsome, in a half commoner sort of way. He has a small scar on his left cheek, as well as 4 scars along his back, 2 criss crossing on his right bicep and one on the back of his left hand. He wears a vest over a grey-tan shirt. His feet are covered with sturdy traveling shoes. His protection is halfplate armor, compromising of a breastplate, pauldrons, bracers, and thigh guards made of plate mail.
Personality: Determined, skilled, and passionate are the three words that can describe Meldyr. He is introverted, but confident. Meldyr has a compassionate heart, but a strong sense of justice. He's got quite the wit, and can be suave when he needs to be. But he prefers blunt observations. Mel is a very capable commander, skilled in strategy and leadership.
Biography:

• Born as the 2nd son in House Flintbrook, a moderately wealthy house hailing from the North. There was some controversy years later over the legitimacy of his birth, with those in the family swearing he was born a true heir, whereas many skeptics claim they never recalled his 'mother' giving birth to him, calling his a Bastard.
• Grew up in a military role, being hailed as the one to strategize and plan movements of troops, whereas his older Brother Brandon would rule with laws of the House, and the younger Brother Gregory would help with economic means. He was trained in various weapons and tactics, as well as shown how to command troops. Though all three brothers learned aspects of all roles.
• Age of 13, he was given the Mark of Talos in a secret ceremony by his father, in order to hone his already considerable combat prowess.
• Brandon was killed when Meldyr was 17, causing a falling out with his father which lead to more and more violent arguments. Meldyr fled into the night age 18 with a small fortune and a horse.
• Spent the next 6 years as a Mercenary, and having received a high level of training (as well as having natural skills) he quickly became a Mercenary captain, serving in various conflicts, fighting alongside his men.
• Heard news of the Assassination of his father, and returned home to pay his respects until he heard his house was now run by George who was rumored to have killed his father to succeed him. There was another rumor George was killed as well, and others that he fled. By the time Meldyr returned, there was no trace of the House. Some rumors have it that there are those loyal to Flintbrook, who would follow any surviving heirs.
• With his credentials and name, whom he had given to the head of House Delorano, he was offered the position of Guard Captain. He's served for two years.

Position In House Delorano: Guard Captain
Equipment:

• Military Sidesword
• Pistol
• Half Plate Armor
• Long Dagger
• Flask
  

  ---

  
  Within his Quarters
• Halberd
• Large Buckler
• Crossbow
• Recurve Bow

Skills: (Human +1 to Archery), (Athleticism +3 For Talos Mark)
Gifted: Brawling +4, Dueling +4
Above Average: Soldiery +3, Acumen +3, +3 Reputation
Deficient: Grace -2, Skulduggery -2
Unlisted:
Gunnery
Marked Ability: Mark of Talos: The Mark of Talos is offered to humans and Talosians. The symbol is a glowing white brand over the heart and is the symbol of the Eye, for Talos watches all. The Mark of Talos is the Mark of vigor. All those Marked have strength beyond their normal means and heal quickly. The Marked gets +3 to Athleticism and heals all accumulated wounds in a single day.

House Wars and Blood Feuds In Old Venara

@Big DreadI think I'll stick with Talos, aaaand once I add in that explanation, will my character be ready and allowed to be put in the tab?

The Lord of the Rings

Thurin Stoutarm

The Dwarf grumbled, taking the logic for what it was. He'd listen to the Wizard over Elvish concerns, for he had heard Wizards were often quiet welcome in the Eldar company for some strange reason. Perhaps it was their love of speaking in a way that was both truthful and deceptive all at once? He picked his gear up, and followed them. "You seem quiet animated, young Halfling," he noted as they walked. He'd seen that eager eye for what lay ahead before, in the eyes of one Bilbo Baggins.