Shu

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Aw, same to you, wheels 🙏🏼😊🎃👻🍬🍭🍂

Word association Game!

Explosion

Ban the User Above You

Banned for being on fire, ouch!

Dream RP?

In one sentence : A strong group RP with a gripping plot, memorable characters and development, and a stellar ending that would make us all want to expand on the world/setting on after.

What most RP’ers want at some point I gather. ☕️🫖

For me it would ideally be set in a high fantasy setting or a science fantasy setting of my own design.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Moving the plots.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

The scout said nothing, merely acknowledging with a nod of his head as he mounted the wagon and took the drivers’ seat next to Leon. - Though it was clear he was skeptical of the other man. The horse that pulled the wagon was naturally quite nervous after the battle and it took a few moments to calm it while everyone gathered close around. Several had taken the time to loot the bodies of the bandits, leaving their fellow hirelings unmolested and to be seen to later on. Once the horse was fine and ready to move again the hooded man slapped the reigns and guided the band on away from the grizzly battle scene.

---

The hooded scout guided the wagon further along the road eastward. A heavy bank of clouds had begun to move in as new flurries of snow began to fall and nestle against the ground and treetops as the sun was blotted out by an ocean of grey. Iliskra kept track of where and how far from the scene of the battle they had traversed, her mind also lingering on how they had just lost four of their band to a brigand attack. We were caught off guard, and those who died were among the fools of the bunch. The rest all handled themselves and we prevailed. Iliskra thought to herself as she plodded along through the soppy, icy mud of the road. She knew there would be some among the hirelings that would be less than competent. Just as she knew there were those she would need to be mindful of, such as the brute with the broadsword and the do-gooder Helmite. Both could prove to be problems in their own way. And then there was the man with the mask, the one who had seemed to think of himself as a mover among the motley assemblage - the way he had so swiftly put down that assassin and then summoned that shadowy beast. Iliskra would be watching him. He could prove to be a powerful ally or an unwelcome adversary.

It did not take long to reach the encampment. Not far from where the fight with the brigands had taken place there was what looked to be an overgrown hunting trail just off to the left of the road. In the distance, over a small hill on which the road lay, one could peer the shape of the great keep of Scardale Town along with various other towering structures. The man at the reigns sharply yanked them, steering the horse and wagon to the left onto the hunting trail. There was audible confusion among everyone as just a few paces ahead into the trail there was a heavily overgrown thicket nestled amongst three towering oak trees with no signs of anyone or anything passing through as of recent. The horse whinnied and jerked its head nervously as it sensed it was being forced into an overgrowth that it could not fit into. Iliskra had felt a rising suspicion in her gut, her hands moving towards her weapons when suddenly there was a strange blurring in front of the wagon and its cohort. Like heat waves rising above a burning campfire. With a magical twinkling sound the three oaks and the brush all flickered away like a dream upon waking making several of the hirelings exclaim and stagger backward. Illusion magic. I should have known. Iliskra had thought as the driver for the second time calmed the horse and urged it forward, the mercenaries all carefully following in behind the wagon.

There sat the encampment within an open circular grove surrounded by dense, towering tree formations. While not particularly large it was quite well fortified. A single palisade made of sharpened logs that stood about the height of two men surrounded the campsite in a square-like perimeter. A ring of vicious-looking stakes protruded out away from the palisade all the way around save for the single front gate opening. Each of the four corners of the encampment had a tall, wooden tower with a thatch roof atop them. Iliskra could see the shadowy forms of sentries within the enclosed tower tops, as well as the telltale glow of torchlights inside the camp. A solitary man stood just outside the gate, encased in a full set of chainmail armor with a shield and a spear at the ready. As the wagon came lumbering towards the rickety-looking front gate the guard raised his shield and spear.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

“We are delivering these supplies to the encampment. These are also the new hirelings Lord Hastlon sent this way.” the hooded man next to Leon quickly said.

The guard hesitated, seemingly recognizing the man driving the wagon. “Why are you driving this supply cart? Lord Hastlon was supposed to have sent a man with them…” the guards’ eyes narrowed behind the T-shaped visor of his helm.

“He is dead. They were attacked by bandits just up the road. Several of the hirelings were killed as well but they wiped out the bandits.”

The guards’ eyes shifted to Leon, then back to the driver, then to the wagon and those who stood behind it and back to the hooded driver. “Where are the bodies?”

“Back where the battle took place,” came the patient reply, “I had planned to go back with maybe one more man to collect them and their possessions and equipment.”

The guard nodded, “Well… Breck has been expecting you. I’ll pass word that you plan to do that. Unless of course our ‘new recruits’ will share that with him once they get inside.”

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

354

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S A M A Y O K E N

Everything was a blur to Natsumi. Those who knew the young woman had called her many things before; kind, witty, focused, devoted. But as her brother lead her away from the fallen shape of their father and as she watched as their home burned against a blackened sky Natsumi felt only fear and a deepening loss that swelled within her. Her wit and sense of attentiveness had abandoned her, the sounds of battle clouded her thoughts and she felt as if she was looking through someone else’ eyes. Was this a terrible dream? A vision? No, far from it. The screams of dying Saitō and Ikari samurai were very real, as was the acrid smell of smoke, sulfur, and blood. The fires lit by the Oda were engulfing the walls of the castle and parts of Tatsuoki’s estate were aflame as well. The cheers and bloodthirsty war cries of the foul Oda sent waves of terror through Natsumi as her brother lead her by the wrist. First to collect fistfuls of koku and then to the edge of the walls where he saw them both down the hillside. Natsumi could hear her brother speak, she looked into his face as he gave her directive - all she could do was nod dumbly. Her mouth half open and her face unmoving like a statues’ visage.

Natsumi quickly knew that her brother could see that she was in a terrified stupor. A part of her would be fearful that her brother would be uncertain by his sisters’ current state of mind. While Ichiro was a capable young man and had always done his father and clan proud there was always an unspoken truth between the two siblings. Ichiro was strong, he was wise for his age, and he was calm more oft than not - Natsumi however always seemed to be the wittier of the two. Always a step even and at times a step ahead of her brother when facing uncertainty or even danger. Ichiro had come to accept with age that there was no shame in looking to his sister for guidance even if some might see it as a sign of weakness. Ichiro never seemed to care. And yet here was Natsumi now dangling like a doll from her brothers’ hand as he guided her through the dense forest that covered the face of the mountain on which Inabayama sat. Brush slapped at their faces and vines pulled at their arms and legs as they rushed to escape before the Oda finished their foul plundering of the Saitō clans’ home. The only things the pair had aside from what they wore was their fathers’ helmet and sword and a box of their mothers’ jewelry which Natsumi squeezed tightly under one arm.

The downward running seemed never to end. The forest continued to claw and grab at the two Ikari youth as they continued to descend, leaping together over brambles and sidestepping thick tree trunks. In the distance Natsumi could make out the blackened, ashy remains of Inoguchi - a town near Inabayama. Only the worst could be assumed as to what happened to the townsfolk and as she continued her forced run with Ichiro, Natsumi felt a wave of sorrow as she thought back to all the times her father had taken she and Ichiro into town with him, be it to deal with the merchants or meet with his clan’s retainers or other associates that lived in Inoguchi. The whole world she and her brother knew was burning and crumbling around them and all they could do was run like scared children. Perhaps that is all they were.

The sounds of battle wavered and grew distant as Ichiro and Natsumi finally reached the bottom of the mountain, the earth flattening beneath their tired legs as they both found themselves gasping for new breath. Natsumi turned and looked back up towards the castle, now far from them. The fires were dying but the black smoke had covered the sky above like a wicked, dark shroud of death that now hung over the fallen Saitō clan. The battle was over - there was no longer the ring of blades, explosions of black powder, and cries of men. The Oda had won the. Inabayama had fallen.

Natsumi faced her brother, her eyes still red from crying and even now fresh tears brimmed at the bottom of her lids as lament filled her beautiful face. She asked her brother a simple but jarring question. “What do we do, Ichiro?”

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

348