POOHEAD189

AI Art Generation: Beneficial or Problematic?

I dislike it. Three out of four artists are losing their jobs for art that just looks bad to begin with, and almost every time it's because it's a big corporation not wanting to pay rather than a struggling writer who can't afford to hire someone for a cover.

It's gotten to the point where if I see AI art, I cringe.

Swords and Silver: The Southern Contracts

"We cannot go back that way!" Adolphus cried.

"At the flanks! We must move south!" Nikos cried, the mail ensconced Cataphract waving his mace in the air.

"Commander, orders?" Sir Gregor cried, and Castor gave a warcry as his destrier kicked out, snapping the neck of a flagellant that had attempted to get a lucky kill. Blood splattered on his fellows, who finally seemed reluctant to swarm in without the use of polearms. Seven knights had been torn out of their saddles, and though they killed at least three zealots even as they went down, they were butchered nonetheless. The cohort had only survived by keeping on the move, trying in vain to move up the hill toward the town. A flash and a sound of thunder rumbled as Black Ryann attempted to clear the way, but it did little except send a score of fanatics to their screaming gods.

The Dwarf, Gardek he called himself, spat contemptuously onto the head of a fallen flagellant, his eyes staring listlessly into the sky as he lay shattered on the blood stained grass. The dwarf was strapped to the horse so as not to fall off, very much awake and cursing the gods he was from all the riding. Torm hadn't the time to make the ride easy for him, and even if he had, the dwarf had tried to kill him and the Silver Swords yesterday. By Torm's estimation he should simply be glad he hadn't burned to death.

"Nikos speaks the truth!" Torm cried, raising his lance. "Wheel right and move south! Follow me!"

He set his great helm back on and urged Lycurgus forward. The horse whinnying with barely suppressed aggression. Fighting and being surrounded by foes did that to even the best trained horse, and Torm knew they could not keep this up all day. Every charge into the enemy threatened to break the cavalry's cohesion, and without it every knight would be swiftly torn apart. Torm and Lycurgus stormed south, bowling over militant after militant. A spear cut across Lycurgus's side, and though the horse screamed in pain, it didn't go down. Horses were big animals, able to survive wounds that would kill three men. And Lycurgus was armored. But still, Torm felt sympathy for his destrier, his most constant companion. He took solace knowing that anyone who swung at him would swiftly be trampled by the heavy cavalry that fanned out behind him.

There was a cacophony of screams and war shouts, but the knights were growing tired of charging. Even something as bloodlusting as trampling down wave after wave of poorly equipped infantry could grow exhausting and monotonous after enough time spent, and Torm knew if they didn't break out of last wave of the army soon, they would be stopped and forced to fight to the death. A Mamluk wailed in pain and anger as an arrow pierced his shoulder, but he kept himself upright with the skill they were legendary for. Luckily, within the next minutes, the grinding charge hammered through the last dregs of the Priest-Queen's right wing before the cavarly broke through. The horses panted and the men could hardly shout out calls of thanks to their gods. Instead, they silently trod eastward, going round the hillock of the town to get to whoever might be retreating through the tunnels. Hopefully there were still some Silver Swords left alive.

Vaguely, Torm wondered how Bianca fared. He did not entirely know why. He had never been on the best terms with the Scout lieutenant, but he knew if she died, the number of skilled commanders grew very thin. He hoped she didn't blame him for the pitiable number of dwarves they saved. He already put enough blame on himself, he thought grimly.

Pirates - Ye Be Warned

Galt didn't feel like anything was convenient at the moment. His face still stung from the powder, and the captain's mood and manner wasn't exactly welcoming. Overall he felt like if these pirates hadn't shown up at all, he would have felt entirely satisfied and convenient. As it was, he felt very much like his life had gone upside down.

"No, I don't have the map." He said, his tone not disrespectful, but it teetered dangerously that way. He brushed his shirt of sparks, wincing at the small burns, his eyes glancing up at her. "And before you ask, yes, I would definitely lie to save my own skin. Not that there was much question there. I lie a lot, actually. But I also tell the truth when it helps, and this is one of those times." He cleared his throat, shaking his hands to cool them off. "Don't believe me? Then reload that thing and let me bleed all over your floor."

He realized himself he wasn't bluffing. He knew for a fact he hadn't seen the map, but somehow the knowledge was in his head now. A vague sense of direction he could feel at the back of his skull. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but it was there. Which brought him to recalling the little miniature leaping into his eye. He guessed he did not look strange enough to comment on, but he supposed that had something to do with this innate knowledge.

"I'll give you a deal. Give me a month, and if I haven't found whatever's at the end of that road, you can keehaul me and cut me into tiny pieces. Or shoot me now, but you'll lose out on the treasure." He said, even though he really wanted to add that he himself would lose out on life, but she didn't care and he supposed he didn't blame her. Sometimes he felt too tired to keep going. Was survival really important enough for this hassle?

Looking at the gun, he decided it was.

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft-based roleplay

Unfortunately, due to time constraints and trying to get a work promotion and having a deadline for a writing gig, I don't think I'll be able to complete my character sheet. Maybe after thanksgiving if you're still accepting players after you've started, I might hop in, but I just got a lot more on my plate than I realized :(

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

The cavern didn't shake, but still the rumbling and grating of stone on stone reverberated through the chamber. Beren smelled dust and stale air, and something unpleasant along with it. He placed the collar of his jacket over his nose, and Jocasta stepped behind him, holding her mouth so the free-flying particles would settle. The Dwarfs cheered, and there was something in their laughs and grunts that was very home-ey to Beren. Their deep, baritone voices were somehow wholesome, to him.

Unfortunately it was short lived.

Beren, Jocasta, and the cohort of dwarves peered into the darkness of the cavern. Gunir, his arm snug in the sling and his nose up, sniffed suspiciously. One of the dwarves gave a small wail of anguish, and Beren's eyes caught sight of what their dark-vision could make out.

The tunnel was immaculately carved, at least for a dozen meters. The low ways were well known for being the cleanest, most safe roads in all the world at one point, due to the dwarf's minute attention to detail. One could still see the gold filigree along the outset of the halls, like veins in the mountain. Past that, however, was a gaping, jagged hole in the corridor that marred its ancient beauty. And along the floor and walls before it were skeletons and battle armor, rusted weapons in crusted, bony hands.

Beren winced as the dwarves groaned, but he leaned in all the same. Osteoporosis and untold centuries without flesh had made the bones brittle and almost unbearably weak or cracked. Even the thick bones of dwarves. Beren had the misfortune of seeing dwarf skeletons in the past, and he could tell this was a fair number of the dead. However, unlike the stout, very human-like bodies of the dwarves with barbed arrows in their eye sockets or breasts, there were also lankier skeletons with a very alien look to them. He had seen these before too.

"Gundarogs," he told the dwarves.

A few of them cursed in their native tongue, Muragrim spitting on the ground. None of them seemed too surprised, but they were grim and sullen all the same. Radsvir and Muragrim gripped the handles of their weapons more tightly, and even Varin's hand moved closer to his broad short sword. Otar walked up and knelt by a fallen dwarf body, reaching down and brushing away the dust from a pendant the dead warrior had around his neck.

"Clan Balgrund," Otar said. Beren did not recognize the name, but he decided he would ask of it later.

"Gundarogs? They really do exist?" Jocasta asked. Beren glanced at her, nodding. Rogs were a known race of barbaric humanoids in the world, a bit smaller than orcs but even nastier, with serrated weapons and misshapen, ugly faces. In Andred and the wider north, Gundarogs were thought of as an old myth with only some credible evidence. They were a subspecies of rog, even more numerous and adapted to the dark. Unlike rogs, they were keen craftsmen of cruel and malicious weapons and armor, and though individually not the most fell warriors, they had a savagery and insect-like ruthlessness. The dwarves knew they were all too real. Sometimes rogs followed exiled dark elf sorcerers, vampires, or some other powerful being of the dark, but they also had their own chieftans and kings.

Luckily the bones of these gundarogs were long since decayed. But it was a small hope. The tunnel continued into darkness, and there was little telling what awaited them in the dark.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"We also need to still appreciate that we are under cover. If we go busting down one of the four hundred thousand doors, we'll alert our quarry and be no closer to catching them." I reminded her. "I definitely empathize with your frustration. I would love to call in the Ordo and lock the planet until they are found, but the Ecclesiarchy is a powerful force in the Imperium. A civil war between the Ministorum and Inquisition is not preferable."

"I know, I know." She said, sighing from exhaustion. Not at myself, I believed, but at the situation. "Let's just get this done."

"Agreed."

"My files indicate that our realm of success is three hundred eighty four thou-"

"Shut up, Lazarus," Emmaline and I said in unison. The tech-priest bleated in binary but did not continue with his odds of success on our mission or its likelihood of being connected to this conspiracy. The toughs beside us wisely remained quiet, and my 'wife' and I hooked our arms and walked back to the aircar.

Over the next day, we received the schematics for the Pentecostal Rememberance, the stretch of land that Primate Fulstes directly oversaw. Lazarus was able to even find the blueprints for the sewage system and all additions added since it's creation two thousand years previously. I concluded that we approach by the ground, to appear as a more mundane approach, and dress our men in militant fatigues to better hide our true intentions. Once inside, we would head for the main chapel on the eighteenth floor, and if the Primate was still missing, his chambers which were, conveniently, down a mere three corridors to the west. It was likely heavily guarded, but our passes would allow us in and we would be close enough by that point to enter without the Primate able to flee and make a fool of himself.

I reiterated the plan to Emmaline. She did not seem entirely enthused, but she felt it was workable as long as we were stuck in this situation.

"I also had a... plan, that involved your skills." I admitted to Emmaline.

She raised an eyebrow and looked my way quizzically.

"I believe they would be more inclined to let us in without scrutinizing our reasoning if my men and I were accompanied by a confidant of the ministorum."

"Agreed, but...?"

"I believe an adeptus sororitas would suffice."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

As Otar divined what to do in his prayers, the dwarves searched the cavern for any other ways out. Beren and Varin stood beside the dragon's bulk, under the gloom of the soft light above. Beren with his arms crossed, and Varin standing there with his hands on his hips, both looking up, far above at the broken crack of the catacombs.

Jocasta meandered over, hands behind her back. "What are you two doing?"

"I'm worried about the dog." Beren remarked, not looking away.

"Aye, poor wee thing." The dwarf agreed. "No food, no way out."

Jocasta peered up with them, before giving Beren a pat on the back. "Hey, don't worry. The pup has a doggy door, I think. Can't imagine Martinus fed him much himself, but he seemed healthy. I bet he'll find a way to take care of himself." She did a good job of seeming cheery, though Beren heard under her breath: "Us, on the other hand..."

"Oi!" Gurin called, his arm now snug in a makeshift sling. He had his free hand up, finger pointed to above the door. Beren, Varin, Jo, and the rest turned and followed the soldier's finger to above the dwarf-gate. Up there, amongst the rocks was a circular shape at the square center of the door. The gate itself was carved perfectly, but the outer rock around it was natural, filled with a dwarvish beauty, one might say. There was untold years of dust on whatever it was above the door.

"Hrmmm, could be a key." Otar grumbled, stroking his beard.

"Or a lock?" Radsvir wondered.

"Something valuable!" Buri exclaimed, gold lust in his eyes.

"One of us outta climb up there." Gunir offered. "Check it out."

"Beren, that's your cue." Jocasta said, crossing her arms. The dwarves all turned around, wondering what she meant. The stout folk were avid rock climbers, and so they assumed the two humans would be sitting this out. But they saw Beren back up a number of steps, set himself in a stance to help him pick up speed, and at once he was off and running at the wall before he bounded upwards. His booted feet touched the wall thrice, adding to his height and lifting him just high enough to grab the top of the gate by his fingers. Considering the gate was perhaps six meters high, it was no small feat.

The dwarves gave grunts of acknowledgement and even a few whistles and cheers. Jocasta just shrugged. "He's useful to have around." She said, smiling.

Beren pulled himself up, grabbing a handhold in the rock, swinging his feet round and planting them precariously on the lip of the gate. There was quite literally four inches he could plant himself on, but he did so with careful balance, crouched and nearly face to face with the strange object. He breathed in deeply, and blew the dust off the evidently clear, crystalline object. As the particles brushed off, the light from the dragon scales illuminated it, and a small beacon lit the ground near Otar's feet. Shadows that formed a runic script touched the ground, Otar reading it hurriedly.

"What's it say?" Beren asked from high up.

"It's a prayer I can recite lad," Otar said, then called up. "Get yerself down from there so we can open this thing!"

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft-based roleplay

Is next weekend an okay timeframe for people to get their sheets in? Mainly asking for myself since I'm about to be swamped by Black Friday and other related events at my job.

@Kuro

Next, as in a few days or the other week? Either way it is good for me.

Also the code for the sheet is messing me up a lot, lol. Anytime I write in it, the code messes up somehow.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt smiled to himself, glad to see a bit of insight into her mind. He found it fascinated him, something he hadn't felt in awhile. He had been sweet on a girl or two when he was younger, staying up late at night, asking them any question under the sun. Whatever came out of their mouth, Galt was interested. It was a strange thing to experience, being close to a woman. But he found his curiosity now was greater than ever in his life, and again he remembered they were to be married. The thought thrilled him. But he could not lose himself to daydreams now, they needed to get back.

"Oh, I'll be fine." Galt assured her, getting up. He held his hand out for her to take, grinning. "I might be a worse rider, but I don't feel sick. You, on the other hand, are getting in bed and drinking tea as soon as we get back. Even if you won't listen to me, I bet your brother will agree."

Once they were up, they gathered their clothes and put them in a burlap sack, and took what coats or jackets they could to shield themselves from the rain that still fell just above a sprinkle outside. The fire was doused and the door was closed firmly. The horses nickered as they approached, but they seemed none the worse for wear, and once Galt and Silke were mounted, Galt looked at Silke and asked if she was ready. Once she acquiesced, they would plunge into dreary landscape, Galt taking the lead as he had a good memory and could see the trail well enough now that he had already traversed it once. Periodically he would turn and look back at Silke to make certain she was upright and safe, but otherwise they kept their pace. The drops hitting the lake was a peaceful sight, and the small sounds of trembling leaves filled their ears until they saw passed the treeline, the estate now visible across a wide, cleared field.

Galt was relieved they had both made it back quickly enough, but he lamented that they could not have stayed. He would be sent home before long, and they had a long couple of months ahead of them. He guessed they might have even less time to spend together, once the marriage was announced. Silke would be busy and there would be a lot of discussion. Galt wondered if he had to speak to her father as well, before too long. He had never even imagined doing that with the girl he married. He had always assumed he would become betrothed to some street rat like himself, with no parents and no connections.

Galt allowed Silke to take the lead now, to better guide them to the stables. He might be alright riding the horse through a wide trail, but more minute maneuvering would likely be more problematic. Stablemen approached from under an awning, smiling at the two of them finally returning. Galt's head was soaked again, but his new clothes were relatively dry still and he imaged an hour or two indoors would solve the wet. Silke, on the other hand, needed rest.

"We wondered about you, my lady, my lord." A younger stableboy said. He had a broad face and a dimpled smile.

"We're fine, though your lady might need some rest. Help her off the horse, if you would." Galt said to the lad, a silent thanks written on his face.

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Jocasta heard Neil's return by the resounding bang that accompanied him kicking the door in, his arms preoccupied with a literal crate of alcoholic drinks, as many varieties as could be found. Neil had forgot to ask Jocasta's drink of choice and Neil wasn't picky himself. He also managed to pick up a pizza before he made it back.

"Uh..." Jocasta said when she saw him walk in, balancing tray after tray of drinks with a hot pizza on top. Somehow he managed to balance them all, placing it gently on the table in the break area. Satisfied it wouldn't topple, Jocasta rummaged in a cabinet, spinning and giving a sly grin. "I got the shot glasses!"

"Nice! The pool table ready?"

"You mean b i l l i a r d s?" She corrected, overemphasizing the word, before changing her entire energy and said. "Yeah it's ready."

"So you wanna like, play for money? Make it interesting?" Neil asked, hopefully.

"All the money is mine, though." Her words caused Neil to lose his smile, but he bounced back almost instantly.

"How about a drinking game then?" He shot at her. Jocasta stroked a nonexistent beard on her chin, considering the offer for a moment before nodding, giving him a 'deal.' Neil took the pizza down, opening the box, the steam hitting his face. It was cheesy, with a cornucopia of toppings. "Alright, so we doin' one shot a point?"

"Eight ball, scratch rules. I get first shot. You rack 'em," She declared, tossing a pool cue at Neil without warning. The young man caught it in both hands, eyes wide. 'Heyyy,' he said, impressed and getting off the couch. Neil was pretty good, but he wasn't professional by any means. He honestly wasn't sure which of them would take this. Reaching into his jacket he had hung on the chair, he took out some sunglasses and placed a toothpick in his mouth.

"Nice look," she said with a smirk. He grinned, and turned the holoscreen on with a casual press of the button with the end of his pool cue.

"You don't look too bad yourself, baby." He said.