POOHEAD189

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"What is the meaning of this!?" Baron Marius cried, striding forth through the crowd with the Duke in tow. Beren forgot the Duke's name, but he was understandably busy at the moment so he forgive himself forgetting at the moment. The brutes held Beren by the arms and waist, and one even had a leg, however all of them including Beren had stopped struggling when the nobles approached. With no answer forthcoming, he reiterated with: "I asked a question!"

"These men are attacking me, my lord." Beren said.

"This'n attacked the lady Rachel!" One of the thugs exclaimed.

"I didn't!"

"Where is Jocasta?" The Baron asked, and when one man opened his mouth to speak, he gave the man a cutting glare.

"She went on the balcony. I don't know sir, I was going after her when these guys jumped me. This girl here-"

"Lady..." the Baron reminded him. The woman had gotten up now, her cheeks flushed and her eyes looking nervously from side to side, downcast though they were. Beren couldn't guess her game or her problem, but she was attempting to do something to get him in trouble. He would find out at some point, but right now his priority was finding Jocasta.

"My lady here asked me for a dance, I said no and stepped past her, and she fell over somehow. I didn't touch her." Beren expressed.

"I can vouche, sir," Alberad stated with a courtly poise, striding around the buffet table to present himself before the leading nobles. He stepped like a dancer, and his eyes, though kind, were as sharp as knives. The Duke, a stately man in a dress of loud colors, gave a smile to the dignitary.

"None of us would dare question elven eyes, sir." He stated diplomatically, and looked to the men. "Let the man go about his business. It seems to have been a misunderstanding. Do it, now."

Slowly, Beren felt arms leaving his body and he was able to stretch again. He was just about to step away, before he remembered his manners and gave a bow to the elf, the baron, and the duke. "My lords, I appreciate it. If you'll excuse me."

"Go on," The Baron said.

Beren didn't wait for a second invitation. He jogged away, weaving around the dancers and servers and opening the curtain to the balcony to see Jocasta there, lounging above the balustrade, leaning with her arms and looked down into the lights of the street below. Beren started to announce his presence, but he paused and simply looked at her. This was nerve wracking, he realized. Ok, this is big but you can handle it.

"Hey," he said. Jocasta turned and looked at him, her eyes wide like saucers. Her lips moved, but no words were forthcoming and he held his hands up. "Hold on, let me speak. Uh... ok, I should think before I do that, probably. Ok, so... I don't know what's wrong. I know something is bothering you, but I was planning on..." Beren fished into his pockets, getting it wrong the first time but finding the other pocket held what he sought. "-giving you something..."

"Beren..."

He pulled out a small black case, small enough to fit in her palm. He walked up to the balcony's edge with the container in his hands, and her eyes bugged out when she saw it. "What are you doing?" She asked, aghast.

"Uh, well... look, I really like you. And, yesterday when you were back at the manor I went around and found something I thought you might like. I wanted tonight to kind of be special, but so far it's been strange. But stuff is only as awkward or weird as you decide to make it. I bought this for you, because... I realized over the last month or two, I have a big crush on you, and I wanted to get you this so..."

He placed it in her hands, and when she opened it, inside were two earrings of gilded bronze. They were carved into the likeness of a dragonfly, split down the middle. Each one had an eye of sapphire, and there were small grooves on the outer edges that looked as if they fit together like a small puzzle. A bit of parchment stuck out of the top of the case, and within was a small note that read:

Rose are red
I'll give this a shot
My poetry sucks
But I think you're pretty hot.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Sigmar, this was too easy. In Marienburg, men had the sense to make the buildings either uniform or ubiquitous so as to confuse would-be thieves on where the goods were. But he knew just where to go from an idle glance. He could tell exactly where the gold was, the food, and just where he needed to be. Each storage house looked much the same. A single story building near three stories high, windows at the zenith, the buildings stacked up with sensible stoneworks with large wooden doors at their front, locked with large iron shackles. It would take a man on a demi-gryph or a team in a steamtank to break apart the doors with brute force, but Neil didn't need that.

Or the keys.

Neil had managed to smuggle his way into the thoroughfare between the office and the first silo, and while he was taking a guess, he knew the managers of the Golden Kettle were too smart to give the keys to the closest guard, but too lazy to keep it on their person in case they needed to unload hurriedly. So Neil, slinking his way silently behind a stack of timber, slowly reached out and gnabbed the keys off the first 'clerk' he saw, the man reclining just before Neil and the furthest from the silo he sought. His fingers slowly lifted the keys up and out of his belt, and to his delight he saw there were three of them on the iron ring. Did they have multiple copies of the same keys, or were these all fake? Even if they were fake, it would take the man, who looked like he was about to doze off, a good while to even notice they were gone. Neil and Emmaline would be long gone by then.

Neil started out the back of the timber pile, though a noise ahead had him freeze against the lumber. There was another, identical noise, and he knew it was footsteps. He grabbed the lip of the topmost timber and climbed up it with alacrity, flattening himself atop it, as to let what he believed to be two men walk by.

"That woman's got something the boss wants." Said a voice. "Mark me."

"Gods, she's got something I want too." The other said.

They laughed and began bantering, continuing on their way. Neil heard the keyman stir at their presence, snorting. He mumbled something to himself, but didn't get to his feet. Rather, he sneezed and hacked up something particularly gruesome, but apparently kept to his spot. Slowly, like a serpent across the sands, Neil slid off the timber and landed noiselessly, padded away into the alley. The thief stopped often to be safe but otherwise made an unobstructed path to the far storage house.

The waterfront was mostly deserted on this end, save for two men on the jetty pulling up the mooring line of a ship, and so he decided it was best not to sneak this. He simply had the keys in his hands and walked round, stepping into the light of the day and facing the great door. With his back turned and without a skulking look, anyone half looking his way would think he was an employee. The second key fit perfectly, and once the lock's inner mechanism 'clicked' he slowly unwound the shackles on the door and opened it just far enough for him to slip in, closing it behind him so no one would think it odd to be left open.

He hoped Emmaline was keeping them busy. He needed a bit more time.

And something to carry it in, he thought. Neil gave a soft, suggestive whistle as he saw mounds of stacked and tightly wrapped chocolate, with the symbols of Araby and even far Cathay on the opened crates. To his right were barrels and barrels of drink set as a base for racks filled with bottles of vodka, wine, and much, much more. Neil went to the drink first, pulling out bottles from the makeshift shelves. Some were local, and there was some reikland vintage as well. Good stuff, but no, he could get that anywhere, even if it was expensive. Some stirland moonshine? Nope.

"Oh hello..." He whispered, pulling out another bottle. Manann's Own? That was rare, she would like that. Some Carcassonne Special Reserve? He was up to try some of that and... Neil laughed in disbelief. He had cast his eyes downward, and the barrel he had been standing right in front of was a barrel of Bugman's!

"Yep, I'm getting lucky tonight."

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Thurgred stirred in his seat, drawing Hakon's attention. The nord gave a cursory glance to the door, watching as two mer walked in to the warmth of the taven. Not together, but one after the other. He couldn't tell if they held a secret anxiety behind their eyes, but he still felt on edge. The crowd was growing thick in the place, and the two friends, Hakon and Thurgred, had eaten their fill in relative silence until the door had opened. Hakon realized he needed another refill of his drink.

"Grab one for me, as well." The orc remarked, sliding his mug over to the Nord.

"I'll see about getting you a drink you can handle. Maybe some Summerset wine." Hakon quipped, taking the drink and sliding his chair back. Thurgred went back to chewing on the bones of the chicken wings he had mostly devoured, the tusks and crackling of teeth on bone reminding Hakon of a dog he once had. The nord tried his best to gently shoulder through the throng of tavern-goers, making it to the counter and asking for another round of mead for the two of them. Idly he glanced at the Dunmer and the Altmer that had entered. Despite his misgivings on the Thalmor, as any sensible man would have, he did not hate elves. Ancient enemies of his people, yes, but every man, or elf, was an individual.

This also was not Skyrim during Ulfric's rebellion, where one could never be too careful about who was a spy for the dominion, telling on who worshiped what god and who to report to the imperial authorities. The Thalmor might not be allies of the Empire forever, but imperial state secrets were a bit more conspicuous for spies to be looking in on a blacksmith, and far less to do with common people's rights of culture and religion. As far as he was concerned, everyone here was welcome here as long as they didn't cause trouble.

Walking back with the mead, Hakon passed by the window. The glass had looked impossibly dark from the bar counter, but close up he could make out the outline of the city street and the wide expanse of the...

Where was the water? Odd, the right angles and curves of the houses and shops were unobstructed, but the sea was obscured by a fallen cloud. Looking longer, it seemed as if it was moving closer to the tavern. He glanced about, and then backtracked to the door. That phenomena only really happened during snowstorms in his experience, but maybe this could happen in the southern weather? He shoved the door open with a brawny shoulder, gazing out with his blue eyes. He could see the rolling fog creeping closer, shrouding the horizon. There was some movement left that almost had him jump, but on second look, it was the figure of a woman.

He felt he recognized her, though he couldn't think of a name. She strode down the steet, idly looking at the fog as if it were a stalking menace. Hakon held the door open for her with his back. "Best get in," He said to Granuaile Greenbow.

Thoughts on discord RP?

I never could get into discord RPing. I feel it's a bit too easy to lose focus.

Using AI For RP Visualization

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

>I'll admit that I have a laxer view when it comes to AI "art" than AI generated text. The art is whatever (genuinely shit in most cases if we're being completely honest and not buying into all the internet fearmongering or overhyping), and even if I were an artist or animator I don't think I'd care, since it could help streamline certain things as that one Corridor Digital video showed. Not to mention has a long way to go to match a human. When it comes to writing though, it's even lazier than copying and pasting in my opinion. Like you can't even be bothered to work your gray matter long enough to visualize a scene, let alone write it out in a post? Or for a more specific example, using something like ChatGPT to generate whole CYOA's or Jumpchain documents instead of designing either one personally, which results in the most generic and nonsensical content I've had the misfortune of reading.

>I get how an artist might call the art aspect of AI generation lazy, but hey so is doing shit on a tablet or in a program like Blender compared to what the greats of history did. They went out and painted or carved, meanwhile all we do is click. Same could apply to writing actually come to think of it.

@Zyx

No matter how you slice it, typing in a prompt so something else can make the art for you is just not doing art. You can make the argument that doing things on tablets makes it easier, but it's still doing art. Any prompt to content generation is just writing a prompt. You have made nothing. All it is, is flooding artist spaces with stuff you didn't make, made from other stolen art.

As for the copy/pasting writing, I agree with you there.

Using AI For RP Visualization

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

>This has more to do with using it to generate images in order to help set a scene, not using something like ChatGPT to write a post for you.

>Otherwise I agree. If you can't even be assed to write your own shit, fuck off.

@Zyx

Oh if it's AI art I'm against that on principal, but if people want to put in a prompt in a word generator to set up a scene, and as long as they don't copy/paste, then I don't see the major problem in that.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Pile it on

Using AI For RP Visualization

If you're using an AI to write an RP scene, then you shouldn't be RPing. RPing is a hobby. If you're not enjoying it enough to do it yourself, then stop doing it.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Neil turned right, passing through a throng of listless citizens and making his way up a short, steep hill before making a right, deeper into the southern portion of the city. The two thieves marched through a street with a myriad of shops of pottery and various crafts for the well-to-do earners of the city state. One shop had been broken in, but the rest remained whole, a few hard looking men with grim looks leaned against the walls bestride the varying alleyways, just a few paces from a few of the shops doorways. Neil saw their manner and could tell right away they were 'scarecrows,' unofficial muscle for the shop owners, meant to dissuade any activity near the closed stores. The idea was they looked shady enough to keep other, less reputable men from approaching, unable to tell if the street toughs were merely loitering in a foul mood or if they were standing watch for their thieving friends, already looting inside. It was a somewhat cheap but effective way to keep rioters from entering their businesses without hiring true guards that required arms and training. Neil could play a lot of roles, but he didn't have the look for that kind of work.

"I know exactly where we must go, my dear." Neil said to Emmaline in his most aristocratic elocution, his arm around hers as they passed through another herd of the desperate or worried, nearly bumping into a garishly dressed courier evidentially carrying an urgent message. Emmaline was merely overcome by a sudden tide of the crowd but Neil managed to smuggle her out with a quick tug and they stepped into a connected, less crowded street.

"And that is?" She asked, rubbing her thick head of blonde hair. Neil raised an eyebrow at smirked at her.

"Come on, isn't not knowing a little bit sexier?" He asked her.

"Far be it from me to lecture the great Neil on what is sexy, but I think it would behoove you to let me in on it," she said, drawing very closer, adding a flair to her already admittedly upper-class altdorf accent. Neil sighed theatrically, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to act like she vexed him terribly, but he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"Very well my darling. Never let the boys at the academy learn of my weakness to beautiful blondes." He said, and they shared grins and then a quick kiss. Neil glanced around, and thankfully the only people close were lone walkers that had their backs turned to them. The jettying buildings leaning over them cast a conspiratorial shadow over the two. He whispered to her, regardless of no one visible being in earshot. Neil wasn't about to let a score and a date get ruined by an eavesdropper. "There's a trading company called the Golden Kettle based here in Nuln. Word on the street says they have outposts all along the reik and talabec, but all of their gold goes here, as does most of their luxury goods, since the best sweets from araby and most of altdorf's wine has to go through Nuln anyway before it gets shipped out, and the rest needs to be sorted here and payments are double checked. So they have a few silos with varying items cordoned off near the docks. Now, the food and most of the gold will be heavily monitored, but the drink and sweets and some of the jewelry might be less so since they aren't in high demand or aren't highly valued in a siege."

"And what guards they have left will think starving people will be after the food and thieves will be after the gold," She reasoned, idly playing with the fringe of his black hair.

"And there's still probably a sizeable amount of gold we can find less guarded, or sizeable enough for two people. Sound good?" He asked.

The Hyborian Chronicles: Of Sword and Sorcery

"I wish you had done that earlier," Amal said, scooping his arm under Sythemis's own to help her to her feet. The snake woman clawed at him to keep steady, but it was more welcome than the beast's talons. The two stumbled across the undergrowth, the glistening foliage and the stuffy, sweet air of strange plants assailed them. It was something wholly alien to Amal, who had spent his entire life in the desert. He wanted nothing more than to be back at the bazaar, looting coin of fat shopkeepers and stupid noblemen, but he saw a gleam at the apex of the tower that caught his attention and desire.

"Hurry!" She said fervidly, the great bell ringing louder in their ears. Amal's muscles ached and bled, but he picked up the pace. His loping strides led them to the very edge of the eldritch jungle, and with his strength he leaped with Sythemis in his arms over a fern with a large spider scuttling over the leaves. The two hit the marbled floor of the tower, pitching over onto their hands and knees. Amal dragged himself up and helped the priestess as well.

"I hope I do not regret this," He said as he ascended the stairs, bounding up them with dauntless strength, Sythemis clutching him as they came to the very top.

A diamond stood on a plinth, flawless and shimmering in the light. It was exquisitely cut, and for all the riches Amal had seen, he was speechless before the item. He felt he could buy the whole of Kush with this, or make Aquilonian Kings beg for his favor.

"Take it! It is your destiny!" She cried, gripping his face and looking into his with her impossibly dark eyes. Without thought, his hands ran over her body, but he did not embrace her. The possibilities of all things flitted through his eyes, and he nodded after a moment of thought.

"You know, if it is my destiny to have this, I might need a queen to share it with." He said with a jackalish grin, and pulled away from her to approach the diamond. He did not slink or crouch, he was too tired and too mesmerized by the jewel and the woman for that. Without delay, as the bells roared and the superstructure around them began to shake, dust falling onto the forest floor, Amal took the diamond in his hand and held it before his eyes, losing himself in its brilliance.