Searat

Paladros: The Questing City

The ranger looks to the orcish man and didn't need to be a mind reader to know that one way or another, he'd try to screw his group over to his favor. He sneered slightly underneath his helmet. Despite this being their best lead to finding Sandy's whereabouts, he couldn't help but feel reluctant to play along to the orc's tune. For all they knew, the drunk may be just setting them up to be left alone in a den of wolves for slaughter while he gets some quick coin to buy more rotgut with. Regardless of his personal feelings, it was up to the rest of the party to decide if whether or not they would be going along with the plan or not.

Goblins of the Wilds

Griz looks to the beautifully crafted blade and held it in his hands. The balance was perfect. The edge was keen. But most of all, the blade felt natural to him. Like an extension of himself. He was left gobstruck. He'd never expected to be worthy enough for another blade after mishandling his older one against that orc months ago...yet here he was. Brand new blade in hand and being told that refusing was not an option. "I...I'm honored, Koglan. I never expected being able to earn another blade within my life. Ancestors bless your heart." The old goblin hunter says with a grateful tone.

Though before he could hand over his old dagger, he hesitated. The old blade, despite its wear and tear, had served him well for years. The feelings conflicted within him. On one hand, the iron from it may be reused and recycled for future use to the tribe. On the other, it was akin to saying goodbye to an old friend. But the need of the tribe outweighed his selfish want. He gives the old weapon a sad but accepting look and says one final thank you before handing it over to the goblin smith. "May the iron be well used to the tribe."

Cacophony Concord

HP: 34/160 | MP: 168/168 | SP: 146/176

---

And just like that. It was over.
He should have known better. If the frogman could dodge small fast moving projectiles, what chance did he have in landing a hit? But, for what little it mattered, he managed to buy his comrades a little bit more time. He wasn't sure what else happened afterwards. Everything turned white as his body impacted the ground with a dull thud. Raymond would have liked to say that he struggled to keep his consciousness and persistently defied the frogman, but that was contrary to fact. As soon as he hit the ground he was out like a light. His body went deathly still. One could have easily assumed that he had died then and there.

But after a few seconds after falling unconscious, the game threw him back into the fray of combat. Drilling his brain with a dizzying amount of pain. Far worse than when he was blow away by the fire punch earlier. He couldn't even scream properly as his injuries left him with his mouth agape. Locked in a soundless scream as a mixture of blood, saliva, mucus filling his nasal passages restricted his vocalizations to gurgles and violent coughing fits where he spat out the vile mixture onto the grass beneath him. With little else to do, he desparately reaches into his pouch to ingest more of the pain killing plant. Even risking an overdose just to stop the pain.

---

Character

Username: Raime Braun
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 189 cm
Weight: 90 kg
Voice Pitching: 0
Decorations: None notable.
Appearance: Splitting image of his own physical appearance. Wearing a full set of traveller's clothes.

Attributes

=Points when applied to HP, MP, or SP, each point consumed grants 10.=

HP – 160
[Determines how much damage you can take before death.]

MP – 160 + 5% = 168
[Used for spellcasting. Affects magical damage.]

SP – 160 + 10% = 176
[Used for techniques and skills. Affects physical damage.]

STR – 10
[General physical strength.]

AGI – 32 + 10% + 20% = 42
[Affects perception of time in combat. Partially affects physical speed.]

END – 12
[General toughness and physical defense. Affects SP regeneration.]

DEX – 32 + 5% = 34
[General skill and accuracy of movements. Affects weapons and tool usage.]

LUC – 10
[Affects item drop rates.]

Classes:
Scout Lvl.9 - [+5% MP | +10% SP | +10% AGI | +5% DEX]

Skills

• [Ranged Proficiency Lvl.1] = Increase Proficiency with Ranged Weapons.
• [Zoned In] - Increase AGI by 20%. Passively Consumes 10 SP Per-Turn while Active.

User Experience

Perception: Realistic
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 100%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

Inventory

Money: 8 Silver Pieces

---

• Common Pouch
• Standard Bolts x ∞
• White Herbs x 4

---

Goblins of the Wilds

Griz nodded in understanding, at least the little goblin girl wasn't needlessly risking her life for some fruit. "Yeah. She may be an odd one, even for my standards...but it's unhealthy for her to stay cooped up in her hut." He tells Breden as he waves back at the apple munching youth before following the younger hunter to Koglan's forge. The chimney billowing plumes of smoke was a good sign that the goblin smith was present, affirming it, even more, when he heard the telltale sounds of a billow pumping air into the hot coals of the forge.

Stepping inside, they immediately are met with the heat that radiated from the forge even from the entrance of his home. Nature Spirits know how the hell does the old goblin manage to stay near that heat, let alone, work beside it tirelessly for hours on end day in day out. None the less, the smith wanted them here and he didn't want to make him wait any longer. Knocking on the side of the hut's wall, Griz calls out and announces their presence to the goblin smith."Koglan? We're here as requested."

Goblins of the Wilds

With half a deer's worth of smoked meat stowed away, it would mean that Griz wouldn't have to worry about food for the next handful of days. Maybe more if he chose to eat only twice a day, but now that Griz had some free time for himself he opted to go help out the warriors train the novices of the tribe. Approaching the fighting pit, an older goblin with greying hair waved at him with friendly recognition as the novices he was training continued to do so as he chatted with the hunter. "Griz! What brings you to the pit? Want to settle a dispute or for another matter entirely?" "Nah, I just had a free day and thought that I give you a hand in training the younglings." Hearing the statement caused the older goblin to nod and smile wider at Griz in appreciation. "Perfect timing. I swear to the ancestor spirits, these boneheads could barely hit the side of a hut ten paces away." As if to emphasize a point, Griz saw a couple of the novice archers not only fail to nock an arrow but, also manage to spill the arrows in their quivers as they attempted to pick the fallen projectile up. Griz only grimaced as he realized that this would be more time consuming than he originally estimated.

---

Two days later and a shitton of work, Griz was proud to say that he'd managed to refine the novice archers' skill sufficiently enough for them to hit the side of a hut. It doesn't sound like much but from their previous level of competency? It might as well been comparing day and night. None the less, he was thanked by the goblin instructor and was on his way home when he spotted Breden talking to a female youngling eating what it seemed to be...an apple? That was an uncommon sight. They usually had to steal or trade it from humans and seeing it in the hands of such a young girl caused the hunter to raise a brow.

Approaching the duo, he'd greet them both and ask the young girl where'd she get the apple. If she had stolen it, he'd have to scold her as she was too young to be going outside of the village, less so stealing from the humans. If she obtained it from a different source, he'd have to go trade some for himself. Been a little while since he got his hands on fruit other than berries.

Goblins of the Wilds

I didn't have anything planned with Ashe. But I'm good for a time skip if you'd like.

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP

Honk

Name: Gustave 'Goose' Boucher

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:
Goose stands roughly 178 centimeters tall and has a rather muscular build considering his diet. His hair is a dark brown hue, is slightly curly, and is cut similarly to a crew cut. His eyes are a honey brown and his face bears a beard that's well due for a trim. Numerous scars are littered across his pale body, but the most notable of which is his left arm. Completely replaced from the shoulder downward with bionics after a rather close encounter a handful of years ago. He is also missing his left pinky toe.

His clothes consist of his standard-issue uniform of the 78th Bristonian Hellhounds as well as segments of carapace armor. Said uniform consists of flame retardant greatcoat and slacks that are colored a dark navy blue. The boots are a dark brown color and are steel-toed. His carapace armor seen better days but it still does a bang-up job of keeping Goose alive well enough. The symbol of his former regiment and rank are displayed on the left and right shoulder plates respectively. The helmet completely covers Goose's head and looks akin to a modernized Roman legionnaire helmet with a full faceplate that somewhat protects his face from injury. The lenses in the eye holes are tinted to reduce eye damage from prolonged exposure to very bright light sources.

His signature weapons consist of a Bristonian pattern hand flamer and a dark blue chainsword with crimson stripes zigzagging to resemble fangs. He also has the standard-issue bayonet as his fallback weapon.

Personality:
Polite professionalism is what best describes Goose's overall personality as is. He has been through hell and back and it shows. Calm and collected, even in the face of danger, it takes but the worst of situations to warrant any significant reaction from him. Though rare, there are times when he gets irritated to the point that he lets his hive ganger origins show.

History:
Goose wasn't always what he is now. Before he was just some punk in a nondescript Hive City on the planet Briston, ready to kill anyone for looking at him the wrong way. He was known to deliberately cut off limbs of his opponents without mercy using a crude cleaver like sword. His gruesome manner of dispatching his foes earned him the moniker 'Goose the Butcher' among his peers and rival gangs alike. He soon climbed the ranks of his gang and it did not take him long to attain the position of being their top enforcer. And with him as their spearhead, the gang itself expanded their territories exponentially.

In this world, might was right and they were the most powerful present.

Life was good until the chaos cults messed everything up by instigating a lesser chaos incursion in the middle of the lower hive. He and his gang were having none of it, this was their turf and they were not letting some cultists wrest away their hard-earned prize. The PDF took their sweet time in arriving at the scene. As when they did, the majority of the lower hive was in a state of all-out war, and over half of his gang were already dead. The PDF fell too and they had to wait until the local guard regiment to save their asses. A little too late considering that nearly a hundred thousand were dead and the cult was close to making a big enough portal to bring in an all-out invasion. The Bristonian Hellhounds quelled the problem in a span of a month. Goose was in awe. To him, these boys in blue were the toughest and strongest 'gang' that ever set foot in his city. He knew one thing from that day onward. He wanted to be a part of that 'gang', thus leading him to the nearest recruiting center and joining up with the newly formed 78th battalion.

There he was hammered and beaten down to what the imperium needed him to be. Not some violent hive ganger scum, but a proper guardsman of the imperium of man. Gone was 'Goose the Butcher', there was only Recruit Gustave Boucher of the 78th Bristonian Hellhounds. He was only a boy at the time, but he soon was shipped out to fight on a world he didn't know, for people he didn't care for, against foes he couldn't even imagine. Two campaigns against Orks and Chaos, a torn limb, and a whole battalion worth of lives later had broken Gustave. Making him a cynical and aloof man.

Then came a missive declaring that due to his performance, he was selected to become part of the retinue accompanying an Inquisitor.

Skills:

• Expert Melee Combatant: Goose is an expert in melee combat. May it be with a weapon or not, he will be more than capable of standing on his own in a fight. Even before his formal training as a guardsman, he was a force to be reckoned with in his hive ganger days. Usually uses it when given the opportunity to flank and surprise enemy positions and when inside enclosed combat areas.
• Decent Shot: As a guardsman, he is expected to be at least proficient with a lasgun. True enough, he is a decent shot with a lasgun, but don't expect him to be making any trick shots with one.
• Quick On His Feet: 'The best way not to die is to keep moving in combat.' Those were the words his instructor had told him time after time Goose was beaten in combat training. He took those words into heart and ensured that while fighting, he keeps on mobile and his foes on their toes.
• Intimidating Presence: One nasty look from him is usually enough to get people to shut up and listen. He is a hardened veteran and a notorious ganger enforcer before that. If he wants you to listen, you will listen.

Equipment:

• Basic Guardsman's Kit
• Standard Issue Bayonet
• Standard Issue Laspistol
• Hand Flamer Prometheum Cannisters
• Chainsword Power Cells
• Laspistol Power Packs
• Spare Chainsword Chain

Miscellaneous:
Absolutely hates fighting near saltwater and sand. Once said elements get into his bionics, it causes malfunctions and immense pain.
Favored food is any kind of food that has good taste.
Collects small mementos from interesting experiences/people/places.

Prompt

"Hey, Sarge. How long did command say til we leave this skad pit? I mean we already wiped out all the xenos here." Trooper Vilona asked while kicking over a headless gretchin corpse with a look of distaste on her face as it rolled down the stairs and into to the lower level. All the while, Goose simply observed the rest of the squad piling up the orknoid corpses outside to be burned. "...Not like I'm speaking out against orders but we've been here for nearly a day. Don't you think we'd be more useful somewhere else?" She asked the still silent Sargeant. After a few more moments he lets out a sigh and turns to face the overly eager guardswoman. "If xenos were to take a strategic position under our control, what do you think we should do next, Trooper Vilona?" Taken aback by the sudden question, the guard in question scratched the back of her head and gave her honest opinion. Well...obviously gather a force and take it back from their filthy hands. "Exactly. The xenos are bound to make a counter-attack soon to try and take this position back." This raised concern within the once gung ho guardswoman. With good reason, they only consisted of 10 Hellhounds plus the Sargeant. They wouldn't stand a chance! "Throne's golden plates! We'll be wiped out!" Goose only raised an eyebrow. "Who said it would only be us?"

As if on cue, a pair of Taurox APCs plowed through a pile of rubble and destroyed road wheelers from the east road and made a beeline to the residential hab block junction Goose and his squad had secured. The wheels of the transport vehicles screeched to a halt as soon as they reached the front of the residential building Goose was. As soon as the Hellhounds saw the lion insignia, there was a unanimous groan as they realized that command had sent the Leonin Highborn to support them against the inevitable ork counter-attack. To make matters worse in their perspective, the vox broadcasters atop the vehicles began to blare out the Leonin's planetary anthem as the guardsmen proper exited their vehicles and did their routine 'parade' around the perimeter of the area before finally toning down the music and positioning themselves properly in front of the Hellhounds and proclaiming in unison. "Praise the Emperor's name for you miserable mongrels have been graced by none other than the 15th Leonin Highborn!" They then perform a perfectly synchronized salute. Goose rubs his temple as he could already feel his blood pressure rising. "Sarge. I changed my mind. I think we can fight the orks alone. Please, just not them..." Trooper Vilona says whilst covering her face out of disbelief. "I'm sorry, but orders are for them to help us keep this position. But let's look on the bright side. Who knows, maybe they'll die honorably when the attack comes?" Goose says semi-sarcastically before heading down to meet their reinforcements.

The Leonin Highborns, as obnoxious and insufferable as they may be, were the best shots by a long shot when compared to the other regiments present on the planet. Despite their mutual distaste for one another, their roles simply synergized too well for command to ignore. "The xenos-" Goose was interrupted by a glove slapping him across his mouth as the Leonian speaks. "Let your betters speak first, mongrel." Goose's mechanical arm whined audibly as he did his best from braining his 'better' with his prosthetic. The rest of the Hellhounds looked at one another, confused and at a loss to what to do in response to the open disrespect. Though as the noise of the whining servos and motors faded away, they knew that the Sargeant had gotten his temper, and the situation, under control. "Oh good, the mongrel leader knows how to listen. I am Lieutenant Crispin DeSalvo, commander of squad three and four of the 15th Leonian Highborns. You are quite lucky that command deemed your insignificant unit worthy of our attention. Now that I've spoken, you have my permission to speak." Goose forced himself to thank the asshat before reporting that he and his team managed to take out the ork defenders with the help of the element of surprise. Before explaining when and where he expected the counter-attack to originate from.

The Highborn nodded in understanding before commanding his troopers to take vantage points in the surrounding buildings. He ordered others to man the gatlingcannons on mounted on their Taurox APCs and have orders to riddle holes into any and everything that was a shade of green and was moving. "Sargeant? I do hope you plan on getting ready. We don't want your incompetence dragging the Highborn's good name in the mud now do we?" If Goose didn't have the patience of a saint, he'd have dragged HIM through the mud. That and the sanction, and likely summary execution he'd face if he were to do so. He'd like to believe he chose the moral high ground when he swallowed his pride once again and simply instructed his squad to take care of any of the stragglers that manage to break through their defense.

And just as expected, the xenos came back to retaliate with a significant force. Over two dozen Slugga Boyz. A dozen Shoota Boyz. Six Burna Boyz. And a damnable looted Leman Russ tank converted to have a catapult of some sort in place of the main turret. A mek boy cackled madly as it launched the first attack, sending one of his gretchin assistants into their position. Normally, this would have been a great disadvantage for the little goblinoid, but there was something that gave it a deadly advantage.

The ludicrous amount of rokkits haphazardly bolted into its little frail body.

The massive ball of fire that ensued instantly claimed the lives of two Leonins and a Hellhound. The Leonin Highborns wasted no time and returned fire. Managing to cut down two-scores of the charging orks before they had to refocus on the other Boyz and the exploding grot launching tank. That left a little over a dozen Slugga Boyz for Goose and his Hellhounds to deal with. The orks in question didn't even try aiming while shooting at them with their sluggas, opting just to enjoy the feel and noise it made as it launched death at supersonic speeds indiscriminately.

One boy even accidentally shot the one in front of it, displaying that despite the poor accuracy, it was still enough to blast apart an ork's skull wide open. It cackled as he stepped over the corpse of its former comrade.

The rest of the Hellhounds had readied themselves to meet the force with laspistols and serrated sabers in hand. Luckily, they were better shots than the orks; landing hits on their centers of mass. Unluckily for them, the hulking green xenos took severe punishment better than anything else. Even at maximum power output, there simply was too much flesh for the laser to vaporize and within moments the xenos had come into melee range. A wild swing of a choppa easily bisected another Hellhound before a lucky shot evaporated the vile creature's skull in one hit. Things were looking grim for the remaining Hellhounds as the Slugga Boyz began to swarm at them. That is until a gout of burning promethium shot out from Goose's hand flamer as he waved it across the mob. Dousing at least half of the charging orks in nigh inextinguishable holy flame. The flames successfully halted the charge. And from the intense flames and acrid smoke of burning ork corpses lept forth the Hellhounds. The hounds made short work of the dazed orks with what Goose taught them. Lopping off hands and fingers to prevent any further attacks and hewing the tendons and major muscle groups of the legs to prevent any chance of escape.

The Leonin Highborns did their fair share of the work as well. Vaporizing the heads of distant ork and Shootas from nearly thirty meters away with pinpoint accuracy with their laslock rifles. The weapons of both their Taurox APCs made swiss cheese of the Burna Boyz who got too close for comfort. Though despite their best efforts, over a score of them were dead from either a Shoota getting a lucky hit, burned alive by a Burna Boy that managed to get too close, or was unfortunate enough to be caught within a gretchin explosion.

Goose didn't need the command to realize that their allies were having difficulty dealing with the grot-a-pult tank and took initiative to help them. While the orks were distracted by the Leonins, the Hellhounds maneuvered around the ork's position and flanked them. While the rest of his team went for the remaining Shoota Boyz, Goose went for the grot-a-pult tank and the mekboy. Just as he swung his chainsword, the mek tossed one of his assistants to block the blade. The small humanoid managed to do its job and save the mek, leading to Goose getting punched and knocked off the tank and flat on the ground. Discombobulated, Goose only managed to roll away before the tank tracked over where he once laid. The mek cursed something in orkish before trying to realign the tank to run over the human. Goose had other plans.

Grabbing a spare canister of promethium, he tosses the canister at the tank and firing his hand flamer as soon as the tank's track ran over the canister and taking cover. A massive ball of flame engulfed the tank and crashed into the side of a residential building. Half a dozen gretchin fell off and ran around as the flames ate away at their flesh. The mek, however, was only halfway out of the tank before the stowed rokkits and stikkbombs detonated. Sending bits and pieces of ork and metal across the street.

---

"I suppose I do owe you a gesture of gratitude..." Lieutenant Crispin said with disinterest and distaste in his voice. "No need. The fact that we 'mongrels' helped your asses is a reward in its own right." The Highborn only sneered at Goose. Crispin would never admit it but he was thankful for what Goose did for his team. Though he wished that the Sargeant would wipe the smug look off his stupid face.

After they had repelled the counter-attack force, they reported back to command who gave them orders to hold their position and set up a forward base while the main army moved up to meet them. Though the guard would only repel the ork Waaaagh! a year later, this was a major victory in Goose's book.

Goblins of the Wilds

Got it. Assuming that Ashe went back to her hut to do more of her strange experiments.

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP

Noted. Will edit in a writing prompt for Goose.

Cacophony Concord

HP:126/160 | MP: 168/168 | SP: 156/176

---

The pain was slowly ebbed away from his senses after eating the herb. Raime was unsure if it was the effect of the herb to numb the pain or it was just his brain getting used to the pain he was in. Maybe it was a little of both? Regardless, he stopped writhing in pain and finally managed to get on his knees. Only for him to see the frogman martial artist make short work of his friends. It was made clear that fighting this thing wasn't a fight. Not at all. It was a one-sided battle. Every desperate attack they tried to use against him was ineffective, or even used against them. Not even the spear did anything significant. Only managing to just barely cut its slimy skin to make it bleed.

If nothing changed in the next few minutes, they'd all be dead.

Raime shut his eyes and accepted what needed to be done to even give his friends a chance at attaining victory.

"I have no other options." He muttered to himself, steeling his will for what he was about to do for the sake of that chance. He was the fastest among all his party mates. He would go as far as to even compare his speed to that of a mid-range sports car. He positioned himself to a runner's set position. He was far enough for him to reach his maximum speed by the halfway point between him and the boss monster. He'd seen the devastation wrought upon high-speed impacts from the news and the internet. His body trembled as he could only imagine the hellish pain he was going to force himself to endure. In the end, it was all he could hope for. But if pain was the price to pay to give them any hope of defeating this monster, he will pay it in full.

He dug deep. Glaring at his target before launching himself forward at breakneck speeds in a fraction of a second. It did not take long for the ranger to reach his maximum speed beelining towards the monster. This was their one-shot to victory and, if fate allowed it, Raime would be their infallible spear that will pierce the very heavens itself if need be.

---

Character

Username: Raime Braun
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 189 cm
Weight: 90 kg
Voice Pitching: 0
Decorations: None notable.
Appearance: Splitting image of his own physical appearance. Wearing a full set of traveller's clothes.

Attributes

=Points when applied to HP, MP, or SP, each point consumed grants 10.=

HP – 160
[Determines how much damage you can take before death.]

MP – 160 + 5% = 168
[Used for spellcasting. Affects magical damage.]

SP – 160 + 10% = 176
[Used for techniques and skills. Affects physical damage.]

STR – 10
[General physical strength.]

AGI – 32 + 10% + 20% = 42
[Affects perception of time in combat. Partially affects physical speed.]

END – 12
[General toughness and physical defense. Affects SP regeneration.]

DEX – 32 + 5% = 34
[General skill and accuracy of movements. Affects weapons and tool usage.]

LUC – 10
[Affects item drop rates.]

Classes:
Scout Lvl.9 - [+5% MP | +10% SP | +10% AGI | +5% DEX]

Skills

• [Ranged Proficiency Lvl.1] = Increase Proficiency with Ranged Weapons.
• [Zoned In] - Increase AGI by 20%. Passively Consumes 10 SP Per-Turn while Active.

User Experience

Perception: Realistic
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 100%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

Inventory

Money: 8 Silver Pieces

---

• Common Pouch
• Standard Bolts x ∞
• White Herbs x 4

---