Avatar of POOHEAD189

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Recent Statuses

1 day ago
Current The Ant King did not understand the infinite potential of humanity's malice
5 likes
1 day ago
Pothead is the most common typo tbh
3 likes
1 day ago
That sounds amazing. Could I join you or would I count as people to deal with?
1 like
1 day ago
Yeah, I am far south enough to where its 10 degrees F but north enough to where there was no snow to keep me out of work.
1 like
2 days ago
Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan why I gotta work when it's this cold c'moooooooooooooooooooon
4 likes

Bio






About Me








Name: Ben
Username: The one and only. Dare I say?
Age: 30
Ethnicity: Mixed
Sex: Male
Religion: Christian (Nondenominational)
Languages: English, Japanese (Semi-fluent & learning), I also know some Scots Gaelic, Quenyan (Elvish), and Miccosukee (My tribal tongue)
Relationship Status: Single (Though generally unavailable unless I find I really enjoy someone).






Current Projects/Freelance work

  • I am a voice talent and script writer for Faerun History
  • I have a much smaller personal Youtube channel that I use to make videos on various subjects. Only been making videos for 2 years, but it's growing!
  • I'm the host of a Science Fiction & Fantasy Podcast where I interview authors of the genre.




Interests (Includes but is not limited to)

  • Writing/Reading (Love writing and I own too many books)
  • Video Games (Been a gamer for close to 23 years now)
  • Working Out/Martial Arts (Wing Chun/Oyama Karate mostly. Some historical swordplay as well.)
  • History (Military History is my specialty)
  • Zoology
  • Art (Mostly Illustrations. Used to be good. Am picking it back up)
  • Voice Acting/Singing
  • Tabletop Gaming (Started late in the game. Been at it for 3 years. I was the kid who bought the monster manuals and D&D books just for the lore for the longest time. I've played 3.5e, 5e, Star Wars D20, Edge of the Empire, PF, and PF2.)
  • Weaponry of all kinds
  • Anime (mostly action/shonen. DBZ & YYH being my favorites)
  • Movies (Action/War/Drama films being my go-to)
  • Music (Rock of all kinds, as well as historical folk songs, sea shanties, pub songs, a bit of classical music, etc)
  • Guitar (am learning to play, but being left handed makes it challenging)
  • There's more but if you care enough you can PM me :P




Roleplay F.A.Q.

  • Fantasy, Sci Fi, and Historical are my genres. Fantasy being my favorite and Sci Fi/Historical being close seconds.
  • Advanced / Nation / 1x1 / Casual (only in certain circumstances)
  • I generally write at the 'Advanced Level' meaning 4+ Paragraphs with good grammar.
  • I am usually busy with many projects and RPs, but if you wish to do a 1x1 with me, you'll need to present your case. Those I already do it with have my trust as a Roleplayer.
  • I love many, many fictional universes so me trying to list them all is an effort in futility!






Me

Most Recent Posts



approved!
Beren dusted himself off, taking it all in stride. He had to admit, despite the horror, it was exciting if nothing else. "Well you saved my life. Or our live, I guess." He said, and blinked at the new light that formed. The floating orb...

"You can do magic?" He asked, looking at her in a light light. He crossed his arms, impressed.

"You can do the spinny staff thingy?" She said, wiggling her fingers like what he did was also magic.

Beren almost snorted, trying to hide the inevitable smile. He cleared his throat and enhanced his already moderately deep voice so as to appear as if he was woo'ing someone. "Yes, I spin the thingy quite well, I've been told."

A small rock falling from the air-dried wall that had just been made caused them to be on edge for a brief moment, and it changed the mood and reminded them of where they were. Or better yet: "Where are we?" He asked, looking at the segmented ceiling, before scanning the bodies. He was an avid reader, but he had never had any former schooling past his boyhood tutor, and this was beyond the scope of the layman's expertise.

"I was hoping you knew." Jocasta said, placing a finger on her chin as she examined the mosaics in the stone. Most were of battles with men in nose-guard helms and wielding axes and spears, with the lords carrying swords at their belts. One depicted a dragon in the process of being slain buy an unnamed warrior. "Wherever we are, these ruins are of the old andernic tradition. Which means these tombs could very well be over three thousand years old."

Such a time frame was beyond the scope of mortal comprehension for the ordinary man, but Beren had a better grasp of such things than most. He had grown up around Dwarves, after all. "I know a bit of old history, but I'm glad you're here." He admitted, which reminded him. He looked her way. "Did you call the owner of this tomb a whore?"

"No, I called his mother a whore." She said pointedly, winking his way. She carefully vaulted over an ornate stone sarcophagus, twin swords carved across its top. Dust lifted and another small bit of masonry fell, but she made it over and approached the center of the room where a stone lift stood. Atop it was a frame, and within it looked like some sort of precious stone. It glimmered blue in the light, and framing it was a bronzed torque with filigree of pure gold. Around it were small bestial stone guardians that Jocasta promptly walked past.

"Was that a good idea?" Beren asked, walking up to one of the sarcophogi. There was an alien inscription on it with a few words he vaguely recognized, likely loanwords from Drimgoth. One of them said 'open,' but it could easily read as 'never open this thing you idiot.' Still, Jocasta didn't seem alarmed so he might not need to be anxious on it. He placed his fingers under the stone and lifted it lightly, just enough for the light to peek in.

"Trust me, I'm a professional," She said, and she plucked the crytal-like stone up without toughing the frame it sat on, letting the torque slide down her arm.

Just as she did so, Beren opened the casket slightly wider and peeked in. There was a sunekn corpse in there, more preserved than the dead outside and wearing a strange crown of iron. He tried to read the runes atop the metal, but suddenly the dead man turned his head. Beren blinked and promptly shut the casket, placing his hands atop it to keep the weight on. "Hey, we might have a problem"
Hello! After a recommendation from a friend, I thought I would try it out. I'm mostly into historical romances so will probably be checking out the 1x1 section.


We're delighted to have you :)
"Well, that's one positive," he said with levity. He wiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve, but it only spread more frost and flecks of mud under his thick dark hair. In the morning light, his eyes and skin looked especially dark. In the light he was more caramel in color, maybe a tad lighter. It was hard to tell where he was from, really. But he spoke like a commoner of the north and sarcasm wasn't lost on him, so it didn't matter much at the moment.

He placed an arm under her own to help her to her feet, but he looked back up the gulley. It was practical since they very well might be chased, but really he felt torn. The men and women in the cages... they would either be used as a ritual for abominations or eaten in an Orc fire pit. He wanted to go back up, but he knew it would help nothing. He didn't voice his concerns, and instead stepped forward. All his grace, or most of it was gone when his foot clipped something in the snow. He almost fell flat but nimbly leaped to catch himself, planting his foot where it was going to be a moment earlier.

"Are you good?" She asked, apparently seeing it was her turn.

"Yeah I... oh nice!" He said, a smile reaching his face. He had brushed aside the snow and found a staff, painted maroon in color. It could server as a walking stick or quarter staff in a pinch, and by the twinkle in his eyes, he recognized it. He reached down and picked it up. "Good, I thought I lost this thing."

Absently he slid his axe into the loop of his belt and hefted the staff.

Whoops and undulating, inhuman screams erupted behind them from above. Beren glanced back and didn't spot anything, but he knew anything that happened to look their direction would go after them. The brambles before them looked uncomfortable to wade through, but thankfully they were both dressed for winter.

"Fuck, fuck, let's go." He said, and the two of them braved the mud and the slicing sharp tips of dead brush. Whoever the girl was, she weathered things well and broke aside mottled branches and dead wood with grit. Eventually they reached the end of the small, muddy no-man's land and made it into another thicket. Beren felt it was just his luck when another cry, unimaginably loud, echoed across the small dale. He looked back and saw three Orcs, each holding wicked axes and crude halberds looking at them like hungry lions, eyes wide and teeth bared. Four more joined them at the top of the gulley, and Beren didn't stop to see if they were going to pursue. Orcs were bloodthirsty invaders of the realm. Their entire religion was based on destruction and their physiology helped them accomplish their bestial goals.

"Are you always this lucky?" Beren asked Jocasta.

"Funny, I was going to ask you that." She said back, both of their eyes on the Orcs, before looking at one another. Without another word, the two sprinted off into the woods.

The air in their lungs was cold and came haggardly, though Beren was a bit better off than Jocasta for having been out for hours. The cold clung to them like an unwanted lover, and though the sun peeked further up from the horizon, it would only reveal more horrors in all likely hood. Damn, he thought they were close to civilization by this point. What happened? He would find out later, but as it were their only option was to run.

They had a good head start, but their feet crunched leaves and snow and they couldn't well conceal themselves while they sprinted. For a good solid ten minutes, Beren thought they might have to fight for their lives, but the trees suddenly disappeared, the two cutting through grabbing branches to find rocky crags climbing up the slope of the mountain they had seen from the distance. Or was this a different mountain? Yet again he would care later. As Jocasta determinedly began to climb, Beren stopped her.

"Wait!" He said, holding his hand out to halt her and staring at the rocks. He seemed to be looking for something. After standing there for ten solid seconds, she waved a hand across his face.

"He's gone crazy," she said to herself.

"No, I saw it." He said, still being unrelentingly vague. He walked over to the largest rock, a huge boulder twice the size of a wagon, with other rocks stacked around it. On second glance, it didn't look man-made but not entirely natural either. He blew across the frost that clung to the stone, brushing it away to reveal runes. Broken runes, unfortunately, but runes nonetheless. Another hoot lifted out of the trees, but instead of running, Beren took out his axe and tapped the blade on the stone three times, then seven, then two. "Hope this bloody works."

"Akra-dum ish-ta-krumnul," He said, nervousness in his voice. He knew time was up. The stone, still as death, began to shift. The language was dwarvish, something virtually unknown to human scholarship for the secretive practices of the race. Somehow Beren knew it, but that didn't end their problems. The stone moved, and Beren's smile died when he saw an ornate stone door with shimmering glyphs, ones he did not recognize. His heart sank, and he realized this wasn't a normal entrance to a dwarf city. It was something else. A dwarf, a friend of whomever had made this, had placed the first barrier up. Now it was the second entrance.

"Wait, that's Andernic!" She said at the 11th hour, just as the first Orc leaped out of the trees. Relief and dread flooded into Beren.

"Ok, you handle that, just try and go quick ok?" Beren said, doing his best to remain calm and not to make her nervous since she held the key to their lives. He took up his staff and strode forward, taking a deep breath to steady his sense of self. Closing his eyes, even as the Orc barreled down on him like a raging bull, he breathed in...and out... and opened his eyes.

He reacted to the Orc's lunge like he was in a sort of moving meditation, as if he could see where the sword was going to go. His staff spun, batting the sword aside and cracking the Orc across the head with the arc of a windmill. It didn't kill the monster, but it sent it to the ground. Another Orc appeared, this one approaching more slowly. It bore two axes in its hands, and the first one was groaning. Beren kicked it in the head to silence the groans.




Kayden tasted a coppery substance in his mouth and spat on the ground, lightly marring his otherwise dashing image. The fog permeated his vision, and he nearly stumbled over a corpse as he moved. Thankfully, the fresh cadaver was no one he knew. He could smell the stench of death, and it didn't displease him, and that displeased him. He was growing a bit too used to the battlefield. No doubt his father would approve, but he had always been a heartless bastard.

The melee had been too long for his taste, and yet disturbingly quick. Judging by the flashes of light in the gloom, Clarissa had set off a spell, and Kayden had rushed toward her to aid her, only to be distracted by happenstance as he passed by Lienna, catching the tail end of her ice-magic and hearing about Rudolph's disappearance. Kayden knew he was a coward, but he also had faith in his fellow eagle. He surmised it was more than likely his crest that made them lose him in the mist rather than having high-tailed it out of there.

Though he had to admit, once the fog cleared and Rudolph had been found still present, Kayden let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. As the mist dissipated, he saw the carnage that had been wrought. To his generals it would have been naught but a skirmish, but a number of bodies littered the ground and he looked away, knowing they had only done what they had to. He moved to the group, dancing over bodies and fallen weaponry as the professor acknowledged everyone. He saw Ezekial's contempt for the fallen Eagle, but Tomai spoke before Kayden could give a glib reply.

"Everyone, we need to move forward and regroup with the advanced team, I'm more than certain they've also gotten ambushed" Tomai ordered, forming a glyph to help make way for them. Lighting crackled and ozone filled the air as a path was laid out for them. Kayden knew they could not hesitate. In war, initiative was a significant factor in deciding battles. If they could catch up to the advanced team quicker than the enemy thought likely, they would have the element of surprise. He didn't like that Lienna had been hit and Kellen was being sent back, not to mention Rudolph was not entirely responsive at the moment. But Kaira would have tended to Lienna if she needed to, and though Kellen was a good archer and a swell person, he was probably best suited for the task. Rudolph, well...he had come through in a clutch. Kayden knew he'd follow. The Prince gave the professor a salute with his blade to acknowledge the orders, drawing the blade up to his face to gleam in the light, before swiping it down as he gave a small bow.

"Yes professor!" He answered, and gave Veronica a look and a quick gesture of his head to follow. He wanted to give encouraging words to Rudolph, but he knew Kaira had it taken care of. By the Goddess, he really was all business during armed conflict wasn't he? And yet he had never felt more alive, the matter of life and death balanced on a knife's edge. He looked to Clarissa and nodded, knowing she would like as not be at the vanguard with him.

"Let's go," He said curtly. There would be time for his usual flowering language later, though as he passed by Lienna he gave a smile he hoped had some camaraderie in it before he said "Glad the wound isn't serious." And then he moved off where Tomai indicated with all speed, sword still out and mind fully focused on what might lie ahead. He severely doubted the enemy had such a small measure of trust in their force that they set up a second ambush for Tomai's party, but he was on edge regardless.

Frederick von Bonraffen
1st of Dragonmark, 2189 PD

My dearest Marguerite, as it would undoubtedly take many months for my letters to reach you, I shall write sparingly and with brevity, for I know next year we shall be reunited in Magdebaden. I write to you in the Brandywinter Inn at Torm's Gate. It is just as you said it would be. The wall is vast and made of hard mountain stone. The people here are intrepid travelers and doughty folk, and I have met the head of the caravan, Master Falkenrath. He has assured me of the safety of myself and my baggage. I miss you for all the world, and I know we will see one another soon.


Frederick von Bonraffen
4th of Dragonmark, 2189 PD

My dearest Marguerite, we have set off just this morning. The sun will set soon, but I still see the Dragonback if I were to look over my shoulder. We catch the occasional traveler making their way back with pelts and high spirits. It's bloody cold, but we have taken our first step in the journey and the trees are not so thick on the path as of yet. Today I met two fellow members of my trek. A lovely young woman who is full of cheek and knowledge of the marches, though not from experience as she admitted. The other was a young man, strong but very kind. He helped me load my wagon just this morning, but his outfit is queer and he has a purpose on this expedition, I have no doubts. I got to speaking with some of the guards. A few of them have taken this path we are traversing now. Their spears gleam in the cold air, and I feel comforted. Until next time, dearest niece.


Frederick von Bonraffen
7th of Dragonmark, 2189 PD

My dearest Marguerite, I have to admit my back has not forgiven me for taking this journey. It takes hard men to live such a life, or a vivacious spirit like yours, or that young woman I spoke of earlier. One night we heard howls, perhaps two nights ago? It sounded like large wolves, but since then we have heard no sign. Master Falkenrath and the good Captain Rohardt have pressed us and our mules hard, and for an entire day I barely glimpsed the sun through the trees, so crowded were they around our carts. But now we roll in an open, albeit muggy plain. I have made a few good friends, including a fellow merchant by the name of Munst, who has a daughter in Iskura. His stories of her remind me of you. Until next time, my favorite niece.


Frederick von Bonraffen
10th of Dragonmark, 2189 PD

I write to you with some anxiety, my dear Marguerite. I admit I had some worries in my last entry, but I did not want to voice them so as to bring them to light. But this forest we have passed through is cold, and I do not know how large it truly is. Some days we hear the growls of a beast and screams of something unnatural, but we have yet to see anything. I write to you by the light of the moon, as I was awakened earlier and didn't know what to do with myself. Something had entered the caravan and walked about. Something I thought might have been a man, but wasn't. I didn't know what it was, but it chilled me. My chiefest concern is the Captain Rohardt. He says all is fine, but his face says otherwise. I see less guards now, what's more. I think a few of them might have deserted, or perhaps have gotten lost. I don't mean to worry you dear, and I doubt you'll ever read this. But it eases my worries to write to you. I love you.



Frederick von Bonraffen
11th of Dragonmark, 2189 PD

I write this as a message to my brother, Heinrich Von Bonraffen. I am uncertain if we will ever speak again, brother. The caravan has been attacked, but by what I know not. We travel in small columns and are separated by units of our caravan guards, perhaps covering a bit over a mile. I heard screams from behind, those of men and women. Our guards went to the cries but I haven't yet heard back from them. I have just spoken with Master Falkenrath, and he informed me must continue on or the entire train might be lost to what he called a 'landslide.' I know such things are a danger here, but a landslide does not do what I heard. I write this letter to settle my affairs, if somehow this comes back to you. Perhaps I am a bit too worried, but better to be safe than sorry as our mother always told us. Send my accounts to your house in Breightfallen and let Otto handle them. He's a good, astute man. Thank you brother. And do not show this to Marguerite, I do not wish to worry her. You know how fond I am of her.



Frederick von Bonraffen

If anyone finds this note, tell my niece I am sorry. Tell her I should have listened to her father. Tell her never to come north of the gate. Things watch from the trees. Things of evil and unknown purpose.

Help me.







Chapter 1


A warbling cry and a wet crack sounded, and the grunts of many heavy things followed by footsteps. Beren heard it all for the first time, the world coming back to him like a hammer blow. His head began to race, and he realized he was in complete blackness save for a small hole where light poured into his warm, albeit stuffy prison. He could hear sobbing, and then a woman begging before her cries were ended in a sound he could only equate to chopping steak. As he wiggled his way to the hole, he heard something else. A roar, no, many roars. A cacophony of primeval screams erupted from his right, which could have been any worldly direction. As he placed his eye at the hole, his vision was filled with horror.

Some thing, some corpse of gnarled muscle and ripped skin somehow stood over another corpse. This one the fresh cadaver of a woman, her blood staining the muddied ground from both parts of her now bisected body. Beren recognized her. She was one of the smaller retailers finding a new life north of the gate. He didn't know her name, but her body now lay before him, cut open by... some restless dead. It didn't breath, but it moved. Worst of all, it was holding Beren's axe. Its head turned to Beren's direction, and twin blue lights twinkled from its scarred sockets. His breath caught, but a few moments passed and he found it wasn't looking at him. Instead another woman was brought forward by two lesser dead men. A woman he recognized as well, but he had only seen once. She was the pretty one he had seen on the first day, the funny one. Behind her were cages of men and women, some motionless but most screaming to their gods for help.

Now something else walked into his field of vision. A cloaked figure with eyes that burned like braziers from under its cowl, moving with the grace of an elf as it wielded a terrible black-iron sword. It strode past the risen executioner, past the woman that was now set onto her knees. Vaguely he realized it was dawn, now. Where was he? The wood against his arm and the piles of various things atop him gave him a guess. He was on a wagon, and somehow Munst's stuff was ontop of him. But why? Where was Munst? He heard a screech, and suddenly other figures appeared, these creatures coming from the opposite direction. They were muscled and primitive, scarred from battle and leaping like apes. They had coarse hair and primitive looks, and fangs so large Beren might consider them tusks.

Beren recognized them as Orcs, and their sudden involvement froze his blood. The cowled thing impaled a flying orc on its blade with preternatural speed, but was lost in the swirling melee as the muscled raiders moved like mangy dogs, hacking apart walking corpses and punching through bone like mouldings of wood. Even through this maelstrom of mayhem, Beren saw the executioner get attacked by an Orc. The thing blocked the sword of the monster and promptly beheaded the thing. Blood spurted from its shoulders and the body flopped to the ground like a sack of meat before the woman, who gave an understandable 'eep!' Horror in his eyes, he watched as the wight raised its axe again, this time its target was the kneeling woman, still held down by one of the restless dead.

"No..." He breathed to himself.

Beren shoved upwards, hitting something solid. Small bits of packed grain slid down from the wagon, but the pile held fast. He growled, planting his hands against the wood as he struggled. A moment later, something snapped and the weight above him began to lift. Beren was exceptionally strong, though his form was hard to gauge from the thick, long sleeved jacket he wore to stave off the cold. Grain and iron and letters of payment erupted from the pile of the wagon, and the cold air hit him like a slap in the face, but he was free. His vision no longer narrowed, he was met with more surprises.

They weren't in the woods. Their slaughter had happened by a copse of trees, but before him was a battlefield. Rolling hills and small mires were stained with the black blood of orcs and the bile of horrible monstrosities. Some were dead men, others were ghoul-like crawlers, some with four arms that moved like spiders, and yet still some where giant, flightless bats that ranged across the bogs like hulking ogres. Much to his chagrin, he also saw Ogres as well. They wielded giant logs and beat the dead to true death. Both the Orcs and the Ogres had iron helms and face masks burned onto their flesh, and the two armies fought beneath the shadow of a lonely mountain at the edge of a large forest.

Beren didn't hesitate or give it thought. He grabbed the closest thing he could, which turned out to be a heavy chest of some kind. He placed one hand behind its butt, planted his boot on the edge of the wagon, and threw it, turning it into a heavy projectile fit for a siege engine. It slammed into the executioner just before the axe fell upon the woman's neck, shattering the ribs of the aberration and sending the axe to the ground. Beren was so relieved, he almost didn't see the Orc coming at him from the flank, shoving a spear at him. He leaped off the wagon, feet skidding on the dirt before he raced over to the woman, leaping over an Orc and a ghoul wrestling on the ground. Beren grabbed his axe and knelt behind the woman.

"Let's go." He said, cutting through her bonds with the weapon's keen edge. Behind them, the chest had cracked open, revealing her weapons and effects.
Again, my time is limited. But by this weekend I'll see if I can join or not, my good fellow!
What races are you using?

I saw references to Dwarf/Elven Gods, a Silver Elf ruler, and Gods worshipped by Dark Elves and Orcs so...

Maybe Human Silver Elf/ Dwarf / Elf / Dark Elf / Orc?

What about Gnomes, Kobolds, Ratmen, Catmen, or everyone's favorite Halflings?

I've got a few ideas I'm trying to pick between. Standard Halfling smart-ass, standard big tough Orc dumb-ass, or maybe haughty human Andred general-purpose-ass


I want it to be human-centric so the fantastical can stand out. But if you're deadset on a non-human we can talk on it.
No worries.

Also should there be a discord for planning purposes? I dont usually make one but if it helps then I would be willing.
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