Current
Infamous adult words like "tax evasion" or "debit card"
6
likes
2 yrs ago
Nothing wrong with going "I dont want that." or "I wont join because of that." as long as whoever's doing that understands its a personal choice. People aren't owed an RP, and RPs aren't owed players.
Hey, so, I dunno if anyone at all remembers me but I'm Reede. Was here for a bit, had some issues I'd rather not repeat come up in my life and I ghosted site-wide for about five months before deciding that was a very stupid decision to make and that I should come back, make amends, and try and get back to a part of my life I miss.
So to those of you who remember me: I was an idiot and now I'm here to not be an idiot.
To those who don't: Hello! I'm a person trying to be less bad at talking things out than they were before.
Homeland: Hergig, the capital of the Grand Barony of Hochland.
Faith: Elric pains homage to all gods of the Empire of Man, but none moreso than Ulric.
Sex: Male
Appearance: Elric is a gruff and rugged man, fitting in with the usual stock and fair among the huntsmen and foresters of Hochland. Standing in at five feet ten inches tall, with a stocky 180 pounds of muscle and and a fair bit of fat. He keeps his dark hair shaped into a solid beard and long hair bound up in a loose binding to keep it from obscuring his eyes and ears. His fair skin is almost never without a fine layer of forest grime, dirt, and the occasional bit of blood, and faint scar tissue marks various parts of his body.
The Bait: The Imperial province of Hochland is well-known for its foresters and huntsman, expert marksmen who favor the longbow and the signature gunpowder weapon of the land, the Hochland Long Rifle. Elric Thorn counts himself among their number, and has for much of his life. His father was a huntsman of the Barony, and his father before him, a family lineage traceable back to the days before the Empire itself. As such, Elric has spent his entire life trawling and traveling through the forests of the Barony, and much of the surrounding Empire. For the most part, his duties as he grew and learned consisted of the general fare of the Emperor's Huntsmen. Tracking and killing the monsters, mutants, bandits and criminals to be found deep in the wilds of the Empire's untamed lands. While his skill at traveling and tracking were honed and sharpened into mental weapons in their own right, nothing could match Elric's skills with his most prized possession, the Thorn Family Rifle given to him by his father, the original owner.
Elric's career as a Huntsman was never marred by significant despair or tragedy. Sure, comrades came and went, were slain or destroyed by man and beast alike, and life and limb were risked. But none of that was ever much bother for Elric Thorn. His firm belief in his own skill and the gods of Man getting him through some of the roughest times, and hearty drink and merrymaking through the rest. The lands of the Empire are but one part of the known world plagued by such beasts and mortals, however, and so approached with the offer of the Black Badges, the simple prospect of doing what he does best the world over, making a fair amount of coinage, and enjoying it all the same was enough to get him to agree.
The Catch: Elric Thorn is a well-learned and experienced Huntsman of the Empire, and a masterful marksman with his Thorn Family Rifle, a Hochland Long Rifle of expert craftsmanship and design. His knowledge of surviving and thriving in the wilderness, when paired with his skills in the art of marksmanship and skirmisher combat make him a threat to most any foe. He is a simple man, with little in the way of wants or needs, and is more than content to live in the shadows with his deeds, so long as his belly is full, his aim is true, and his coinpurse never light.
Initial Possessions: Elric Thorn's single most prized possession is his weapon of choice, the Thorn Family Hochland Long Rifle. A master-crafted example of gunsmithing and telescope equipment, this weapon is known for being one of the greatest marksman weapons in the Old World, and the finest infantry gun the Empire can muster. Along with his rifle, and the equipment needed to keep it maintained and functional in the wild, he packs a fair amount of powder and shot.
Beyond that, his primary garb is a rugged form of forester gear consisting of drab clothing of greens, browns and blacks, with padding and leather designed to provide a fair amount of protection without sacrificing comfort and stealth. Survival equipment consisting of a sleeping roll, fire kit, hatchet, dagger, rope, waterskin, long travel rations, and a satchel to bear it all in.
Current Possessions: For now, mirrored with the above.
Homeland: Hergig, the capital of the Grand Barony of Hochland.
Faith: Elric pains homage to all gods of the Empire of Man, but none moreso than Ulric.
Sex: Male
Appearance: Elric is a gruff and rugged man, fitting in with the usual stock and fair among the huntsmen and foresters of Hochland. Standing in at five feet ten inches tall, with a stocky 180 pounds of muscle and and a fair bit of fat. He keeps his dark hair shaped into a solid beard and long hair bound up in a loose binding to keep it from obscuring his eyes and ears. His fair skin is almost never without a fine layer of forest grime, dirt, and the occasional bit of blood, and faint scar tissue marks various parts of his body.
The Bait: The Imperial province of Hochland is well-known for its foresters and huntsman, expert marksmen who favor the longbow and the signature gunpowder weapon of the land, the Hochland Long Rifle. Elric Thorn counts himself among their number, and has for much of his life. His father was a huntsman of the Barony, and his father before him, a family lineage traceable back to the days before the Empire itself. As such, Elric has spent his entire life trawling and traveling through the forests of the Barony, and much of the surrounding Empire. For the most part, his duties as he grew and learned consisted of the general fare of the Emperor's Huntsmen. Tracking and killing the monsters, mutants, bandits and criminals to be found deep in the wilds of the Empire's untamed lands. While his skill at traveling and tracking were honed and sharpened into mental weapons in their own right, nothing could match Elric's skills with his most prized possession, the Thorn Family Rifle given to him by his father, the original owner.
Elric's career as a Huntsman was never marred by significant despair or tragedy. Sure, comrades came and went, were slain or destroyed by man and beast alike, and life and limb were risked. But none of that was ever much bother for Elric Thorn. His firm belief in his own skill and the gods of Man getting him through some of the roughest times, and hearty drink and merrymaking through the rest. The lands of the Empire are but one part of the known world plagued by such beasts and mortals, however, and so approached with the offer of the Black Badges, the simple prospect of doing what he does best the world over, making a fair amount of coinage, and enjoying it all the same was enough to get him to agree.
The Catch: Elric Thorn is a well-learned and experienced Huntsman of the Empire, and a masterful marksman with his Thorn Family Rifle, a Hochland Long Rifle of expert craftsmanship and design. His knowledge of surviving and thriving in the wilderness, when paired with his skills in the art of marksmanship and skirmisher combat make him a threat to most any foe. He is a simple man, with little in the way of wants or needs, and is more than content to live in the shadows with his deeds, so long as his belly is full, his aim is true, and his coinpurse never light.
Initial Possessions: Elric Thorn's single most prized possession is his weapon of choice, the Thorn Family Hochland Long Rifle. A master-crafted example of gunsmithing and telescope equipment, this weapon is known for being one of the greatest marksman weapons in the Old World, and the finest infantry gun the Empire can muster. Along with his rifle, and the equipment needed to keep it maintained and functional in the wild, he packs a fair amount of powder and shot.
Beyond that, his primary garb is a rugged form of forester gear consisting of drab clothing of greens, browns and blacks, with padding and leather designed to provide a fair amount of protection without sacrificing comfort and stealth. Survival equipment consisting of a sleeping roll, fire kit, hatchet, dagger, rope, waterskin, long travel rations, and a satchel to bear it all in.
Current Possessions: For now, mirrored with the above.
Appearance: Lazarus is a fairly average specimen of a healthy middle-aged human male. He keeps relatively physically fit, with an average weight of 80kg, and although he by no means towers over anyone, his 195 centimeter height still gives him a considerably tall look.
His face is rather bony and well-defined, with his chin coming to a narrow end, and his nose a fine point. He keeps himself clean shaven as much as possible, and his greying head of hair neatly cropped and trimmed. His face is framed by a pair of necessary reading spectacles, which are specifically designed with one-way reflective lenses, which Lazarus prefers because they stop patients from distracting him with "incessant blathering and distracting eye contact" in his own words.
His eyes, when rarely seen, are a cold steel in color, bearing little of the spark or twinkle of life and energy. Instead they seem almost calculating in nature, constantly jumping from subject to subject, always observing everything they can.
In terms of apparel, he regularly wears the uniform of an Imperial Navy First Lieutenant, the traditional white and blue coat and trousers, with a high pair of black jackboots, and the official insignia denoting him as both a First Lieutenant and an officiated Chirurgeon. When practicing medicae in a proper facility, he traditionally wears either a white longcoat commonly associated with medicae professionals, or sanitized surgical garments when performing extensive procedures.
As someone lacking in combat expertise, he does not traditionally carry much in the way of armaments, keeping on hand a single stub automatic pistol in a shoulder holster. However, to make up for his lack of combat experience, he packs it with the vicious Manstopper bullets, to provide extra firepower in a pinch.
Personality: Lazarus is best described as stern, asocial, and calculating in nature. He shows the most warmth and personality when discussing the fields of medicae and biologis, but even then he shows a grim, almost grotesque fascination with the subjects.
Despite his distaste for talk outside his subjects of study, Lazarus feels great concern and care for those he treats for injury or illness, stopping at nothing to aid them to the best of his ability. However, should a patient of his pass, his cold demeanour returns, and he won't hesitate to use the fresh corpse for research or spare bodily objects or fluids.
When it comes to the stringent rules of the Imperial Creed, Lazarus only pays them as much heed as necessary, pushing the limits of decency and courtesy to the God-Emperor when he can. The Xenos and the Mutant bother him not with their presence, their biological and anatomical structure utterly fascinating to him.
History: Lazarus Germael is the fourth of seven sons born to Sigmund Germael, the patriarch of a minor nobility household on Scintilla. The Germael family lineage had always operated on the rule that the first son was to be heir, the second to join the Administratum, the third to join the Guard, and the fourth to join the Navy. Thus, Lazarus's career was defined for him at birth. While being groomed and schooled for the Imperial Naval Officer's Academy, Lazarus quickly found his fascination with medical and anatomical sciences, and his distaste for people. He excelled in scientific classes, but struggled with much of the pomp and circumstance due to one of his class and destined service.
Lazarus would enter the Academy at the age of 16, enrolling in their medicae program, and graduating with full honors and a commission as an Ensign medicae officer aboard the Saint's Chosen, a small frigate serving across the Calixis sector. It was here Lazarus would find the one person he could stand to deal with, a kindred spirit in the Biologis Tech-Priest Obel Gaven.
Working alongside Obel, Lazarus would serve dutifully and honorably for many years, rising through the ranks and chain of command in the medicae department, before eventually securing the position of Chief Chirurgeon and the rank of First Lieutenant.
Despite his cherished years of service, Lazarus had never been content with simply healing the ill, and had sought to put his knowledge to more theoretical purposes. Together with Obel they secretly conducted research and development of disturbing biological, cybernetic, and bionic enhancements to both servants of the vessel and captured prisoners alike.
This series of heretical actions against both the Emperor and the Omnissiah would not go unnoticed, and official action had to be taken. Obel was taken from the vessel and into the custody of the Mechanicus, never to be seen again. Lazarus, however, was taken before the Captain of his vessel, and the other senior staff, and given a choice.
A powerful agency had taken a specialized interest in Lazarus, that of the God-Emperor's own Inquisition. Individuals skilled in biologis and medicae fields weren't exactly the most common outside of specialized organizations within the Imperium and Mechanicus, and any that the willingness to extend the morality associated with their career path were even rarer.
With the only other choice being the barrel of a bolt pistol, Lazarus graciously accepted conscription into the Emperor's own vigilant safeguards against the enemies without: The Ordo Xenos.
Skills: Lazarus is an expert medicae practitioner, and a constant researcher of biological topics and advancements as he comes across them. He also has experience serving as the Chief Chirurgeon aboard a Voidship, and all the trials and tribulations associated with directing the medicae department of one of the Imperium’s starbound fortress-cities.
Thanks to his service alongside a Biologis Tech-Priest in his last assignment for the Imperial Navy proper, his skills with assembling and implanting cybernetics and bionics are profound for one outside the Machine Cult, and it is not uncommon for him to provide patients with enhancements that might be considered Heritek in some circles of Mars and her domains.
Although by no means an expert shot or a professional soldier, Lazarus has survived the occasional firefight with his autopistol, and what he lacks in direct firepower he makes up for with the danger of his preferred Manstopper ammunition and his knowledge of human anatomy.
Equipment: Alongside the aforementioned stub pistol and apparel, Lazarus keeps on hand a diagnosticator for identifying medical issues, a medi-kit for field operations, and a suture set for quickly closing wounds. He also wears a micro-comm in one ear for quick communication across the ship or in the field, and keeps handy a dataslate for computational purposes and other digital tasks.
Miscellaneous: He keeps a personal written journal for cataloging research and procedures that he desires to be kept hidden from anyone but himself. It never leaves his person unless absolutely necessary.
WIP for the fact that there's no prompt ATM, but one will be up ASAP
Name: Lazarus Germael
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Lazarus is a fairly average specimen of a healthy middle-aged human male. He keeps relatively physically fit, with an average weight of 80kg, and although he by no means towers over anyone, his 195 centimeter height still gives him a considerably tall look.
His face is rather bony and well-defined, with his chin coming to a narrow end, and his nose a fine point. He keeps himself clean shaven as much as possible, and his greying head of hair neatly cropped and trimmed. His face is framed by a pair of necessary reading spectacles, which are specifically designed with one-way reflective lenses, which Lazarus prefers because they stop patients from distracting him with "incessant blathering and distracting eye contact" in his own words.
His eyes, when rarely seen, are a cold steel in color, bearing little of the spark or twinkle of life and energy. Instead they seem almost calculating in nature, constantly jumping from subject to subject, always observing everything they can.
In terms of apparel, he regularly wears the uniform of an Imperial Navy First Lieutenant, the traditional white and blue coat and trousers, with a high pair of black jackboots, and the official insignia denoting him as both a First Lieutenant and an officiated Chirurgeon. When practicing medicae in a proper facility, he traditionally wears either a white longcoat commonly associated with medicae professionals, or sanitized surgical garments when performing extensive procedures.
As someone lacking in combat expertise, he does not traditionally carry much in the way of armaments, keeping on hand a single stub automatic pistol in a shoulder holster. However, to make up for his lack of combat experience, he packs it with the vicious Manstopper bullets, to provide extra firepower in a pinch.
Personality: Lazarus is best described as stern, asocial, and calculating in nature. He shows the most warmth and personality when discussing the fields of medicae and biologis, but even then he shows a grim, almost grotesque fascination with the subjects.
Despite his distaste for talk outside his subjects of study, Lazarus feels great concern and care for those he treats for injury or illness, stopping at nothing to aid them to the best of his ability. However, should a patient of his pass, his cold demeanour returns, and he won't hesitate to use the fresh corpse for research or spare bodily objects or fluids.
When it comes to the stringent rules of the Imperial Creed, Lazarus only pays them as much heed as necessary, pushing the limits of decency and courtesy to the God-Emperor when he can. The Xenos and the Mutant bother him not with their presence, their biological and anatomical structure utterly fascinating to him.
History: Lazarus Germael is the fourth of seven sons born to Sigmund Germael, the patriarch of a minor nobility household on Scintilla. The Germael family lineage had always operated on the rule that the first son was to be heir, the second to join the Administratum, the third to join the Guard, and the fourth to join the Navy. Thus, Lazarus's career was defined for him at birth. While being groomed and schooled for the Imperial Naval Officer's Academy, Lazarus quickly found his fascination with medical and anatomical sciences, and his distaste for people. He excelled in scientific classes, but struggled with much of the pomp and circumstance due to one of his class and destined service.
Lazarus would enter the Academy at the age of 16, enrolling in their medicae program, and graduating with full honors and a commission as an Ensign medicae officer aboard the Saint's Chosen, a small frigate serving across the Calixis sector. It was here Lazarus would find the one person he could stand to deal with, a kindred spirit in the Biologis Tech-Priest Obel Gaven.
Working alongside Obel, Lazarus would serve dutifully and honorably for many years, rising through the ranks and chain of command in the medicae department, before eventually securing the position of Chief Chirurgeon and the rank of First Lieutenant.
Despite his cherished years of service, Lazarus had never been content with simply healing the ill, and had sought to put his knowledge to more theoretical purposes. Together with Obel they secretly conducted research and development of disturbing biological, cybernetic, and bionic enhancements to both servants of the vessel and captured prisoners alike.
This series of heretical actions against both the Emperor and the Omnissiah would not go unnoticed, and official action had to be taken. Obel was taken from the vessel and into the custody of the Mechanicus, never to be seen again. Lazarus, however, was taken before the Captain of his vessel, and the other senior staff, and given a choice.
A powerful agency had taken a specialized interest in Lazarus, that of the God-Emperor's own Inquisition. Individuals skilled in biologis and medicae fields weren't exactly the most common outside of specialized organizations within the Imperium and Mechanicus, and any that the willingness to extend the morality associated with their career path were even rarer.
With the only other choice being the barrel of a bolt pistol, Lazarus graciously accepted conscription into the Emperor's own vigilant safeguards against the enemies without: The Ordo Xenos.
Skills: Lazarus is an expert medicae practitioner, and a constant researcher of biological topics and advancements as he comes across them. He also has experience serving as the Chief Chirurgeon aboard a Voidship, and all the trials and tribulations associated with directing the medicae department of one of the Imperium’s starbound fortress-cities.
Thanks to his service alongside a Biologis Tech-Priest in his last assignment for the Imperial Navy proper, his skills with assembling and implanting cybernetics and bionics are profound for one outside the Machine Cult, and it is not uncommon for him to provide patients with enhancements that might be considered Heritek in some circles of Mars and her domains.
Although by no means an expert shot or a professional soldier, Lazarus has survived the occasional firefight with his autopistol, and what he lacks in direct firepower he makes up for with the danger of his preferred Manstopper ammunition and his knowledge of human anatomy.
Equipment: Alongside the aforementioned stub pistol and apparel, Lazarus keeps on hand a diagnosticator for identifying medical issues, a medi-kit for field operations, and a suture set for quickly closing wounds. He also wears a micro-comm in one ear for quick communication across the ship or in the field, and keeps handy a dataslate for computational purposes and other digital tasks.
Miscellaneous: He keeps a personal written journal for cataloging research and procedures that he desires to be kept hidden from anyone but himself. It never leaves his person unless absolutely necessary.
A single enforcer, presumably the leader of the would-be Governor's personal forces, had exited the fortress-estate. Vindicare XXIII's finger hovered unwavering beside the trigger well of his rifle. Killing this speaker during his attempted negotiations with the Justicar would be a sub-optimal usage of both their lives and his abilities. Keeping a careful watch over the front of the estate from his vantage, the heads-up display of his mask winked with indicators and waypoint markers designating points and individuals of interest.
Agent LII, while not a true Vindicare Assassin, was a skilled and valuable reconnaissance spotter and second set of eyes for Vindicare operations. While the skills of the Imperium's master marksmen were formidable, they could not be in two places at once, and operatives like Agent LII were designed to make up for that. From a secluded and secure position, he was able to keep watch and selectively tag hostiles and locations of importance.
Based on their combined observations, the fortress was nearly impregnable in design. The construction was concentrated in being defended from all directions from uprisings from the hiver population, with the only reliable means of entry being from above, despite the lack of any clear landing pad or other means of aerial insertion. The only clear-cut way would be to blast down the door or scale the walls, a classic siege.
Opening up internal vox-comms communications with Justicar Autark and Lieutenant Brusilov both, Vindicare XXIII offered them a basic relay of information from the viewpoints available to him, as well as a possible course of action.
"Justicar, Lieutenant, this is XXIII. Prep any means of breaching the main door now, secure all personnel from incoming fire, and ready any means of scaling walls that are at your disposal. Hostile at the entrance will be eliminated upon affirmation from Autark."
Unless any objections were made, if the affirmation were to arrive, the powerful Turbo-Penetrator round of the Exitus rifle would rip through the Enforcer sent to talk with the Justicar.
"Go to Si Wong City!" they said. "Its a traveler hotspot, you'll have work from all around the world!" they said. I'd have had better luck sailing...
These were the thoughts gracing Han Xin's mind as he tramped about the streets and alleyways of the desert cityscape. Si Wong City had seemed like a grand idea for his line of work, an apolitical hotspot of travel and trade where a man like himself was bound to find work suited for his skills...which was exactly the same idea every other damned blade for hire in the Earth Kingdoms had had, it would seem. Most of his current days in the city spent checking bounty boards and killing time, and his liver, in local bars and dives.
Perusing the streets of the city, his thoughts shifted to his current plan. Another small-fry crook in hiding. Enough for a bounty posting, not enough to actually have the city watch looking for him. It wasn't much, but it kept food on the table and a roof over his head. Plus, it gave him a target to vent his various frustrations on. Not a healthy coping mechanism, but certainly better than finding solace at the bottom of a bottle all the time.
As some might say 'Speak ill of spirits, and they shall come', for it would seem that just by thinking of his target, the man appeared before him, stepping out of a dismal storefront of some kind and into the city streets. With little fanfare, Han Xin simply announced to the man that he should either come with him now, or be forced to. Naturally, the man immediately sprinted off in the opposite direction, prompting a groan from Han Xin as he began the chase after him.
The man wasn't much faster than Han Xin, but catching him simply by running on foot wouldn't be enough. Arms angled to the side as he ran, Han Xin focused his knowledge of haphazard Earthbending to drag together loose stones, clumps of earth, and other small bits of malleable material suited to his bending ability and simply hurl them at the target with his powers. A shower of rock and hardened dirt pelted the man's back, sending him stumbling and slowing his pace considerably.
Rushing to apprehend the man with as little trouble as possible, Han Xin chased him into a more open marketplace, and quickly took advantage of an ample chance to strike. Using his spear as a tool, he pried a large chunk of ground loose and hefted it upwards in combination with his bending, quickly twirling his spear around and using the haft of the weapon to send the makeshift boulder sailing through the air, managing to clip the target on the back of the head and sending him crashing to the ground.
Shouting to any and all bystanders to clear the area, Han Xin moved in and worked to secure the bounty, reassuring the official nature of it all to anyone watching the excitement, and quickly binding the man's limbs. Once the man was carefully secured, Han Xin went about getting him up and moving, setting out to turn him in to the proper authorities.
I'm a stupid idiot who runs away from problems instead of facing them. Trying to change that one place at a time.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I'm a stupid idiot who runs away from problems instead of facing them. Trying to change that one place at a time.</div>
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