Basically asking why is there nothing good.
Because people want anime RPs.
Slamurai
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- Old Guild Username: Aristocrap
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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Plank Sinatra
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Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Not my own words, but: "Enjoy memes and have a good time online, but develop a solid sense of self-worth that is rooted in a reality that doesn't disappear when the battery charge is empty."
4
likes
6 yrs ago
The spam. It hurts.
1
like
6 yrs ago
Yeah, and you're under arrest, pal.
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Most Recent Posts
In
General Interest Check. Basically asking why is there nothing good.
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: General Interest Checks
Because people want anime RPs.
Pieter Aukes
Sex: Male
Age: Roughly three decades.
Height: Just shy of six feet.
Species: Human.
Volunteered or Sentenced: Sentenced.
Pieter never stopped being the kid who slung rocks at birds. Cruel, mischievous and unapologetic, Pieter is the product of a harsh upbringing in the alleys of Leerdam. He had no mother or father to call family, just the other runts of Burl’s gang, if they could even be considered family. It was a strict hierarchy of bigger, older kids at the top. Someone had to keep the smaller ones in line.
Pieter was one of the runts, once. But whereas most simply scraped by doing as they were told to avoid beatings, Pieter’s eyes were always on bigger things. The older kids did what they wanted, as long as they kept Burl happy, and got more food, a closer spot to the fireplace, real beds and their pick of the girls. For Pieter, these were luxuries he coveted.
By the time Pieter was sixteen, he’d risen from the bottom of the litter to the ranks of the bigs that answered to Burl directly. After sixteen years of scoldings, beatings and a meager subsistence of scraps, he never lost sight of his goal. His knuckles had been bloodied on the jaws of weaker kids and he was rewarded for it. He was warm, fed, rich for a slum kid and the prettiest girls couldn't tell him no.
It wasn't long until Pieter outgrew Burl and his penny-snatching operations. He’d made some friends with big names in the undercity: Ape, Earless John, Niner, Daxton, to name a few. Real criminals that were feared and respected. It started with delivering messages across the slums, then coins, then drugs. Sometimes an easily-concealed knife or conspicuous vial of liquid. The shot-callers must have sensed his potential, because they put him on the streets as a strongarm.
A show of force here and a dent in the competition there were his prerogative. Pieter didn't just do it because he was told to. He did it because he enjoyed it. He relished the rush of adrenaline, the blood in the eyes and fire in the heart. He drank the misery of those he made examples of, intoxicated on the feeling of power.
When Sebastiaan Krantz took over as Leerdam’s burgomaster, he finally turned the city’s attention to its dark underbelly. He began a purge of crime, hunting both small-time gangs and organized circles. The bigshots were complacent, too used to the blind eye of society, and unprepared when Krantz loosed his well-equipped, professional men on them. Pieter, already notorious for a long list of barbarism, was swept up in Leerdam’s war on crime and captured during a raid on a guild safehouse.
Pieter contemplated fighting, but also felt like living. The merchants who couldn’t pay never fought back. Nor did the late payers, shortchangers, flotsam and jetsam of the streets. They knew Pieter was bigger and stronger. And so he knew his odds when he saw them. In exchange for leniency, he broke the sacred rule of silence and offered up identities, whereabouts and other information about his peers to authorities. Instead of a lighter sentence, he was offered a choice: join the Red Hoods or death.
Figure I'll whip up a sheet and hope for the best!
WAKE UP!
Do the 'villians' have a dedicated officer or NCO yet? Just had a cursory look at the sheets.
As Arkitekt has pulled out, does that mean the interceptor/assault role is open again?
Or maybe another villain would even the playing field just a little... Some folks are playing both.
Or maybe another villain would even the playing field just a little... Some folks are playing both.
In
Code Geass - Britannian Civil War - Alternative Universe
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I haven't seen Code Geass, but I've read up a bit on the setting. Was actually just considering watching it. Itching for some mecha action anyway, if it's cool that I learn by progressing in episodes and IC.
Mid-February, 4901 YDC
Imperial Dominion of Kitagawa
16th February, 4901
We’ve almost arrived at Nilrandell. The mood onboard is light. Pietyr joked we’re being sent in because the auxilia are too incompetent to suppress a bunch of Yamato. On a more serious note, I find myself agreeing with him. Before we left, we received a report that the 27th Auxiliary Legion opened fire on a crowd of protesters - things turned to shit and they failed to even hold their ground in the stampede. Makes you wonder how the Imperium has managed to stick together this long, if true. The boys are confident we’ll put the Yamato in their place and we’ll be back home in the Spring. I hope they’re right.
17th of February, 4901
We’ve finally landed on Kitagawan soil. Nilrandell is a busy place. There are ships from all over the Imperium in port and all sorts of people. We set up our base of operations inside the city and moved our supplies in from the ships. The Yamato I’ve encountered seemed indifferent to our presence. Maybe they’re too far from the capital to care what’s going on? The children laughed at us and begged for treats, but Darrel told them off with the butt of his rifle. The unrest seems so far away.
19th of February, 4901
We saw our first action today. Our orders were to enforce martial law in a town called Junkyu. In other words, we stood around on the streets and did our best to look professional as the Yamato went about their daily business. Around noon, a horse cart attempted to run the checkpoint we’d set up. We yelled at the driver in what little Yamato we learned on the trip, but he wouldn’t stop. There was something in his eyes. Madness. Or fierce determination, one of the two. When he was almost upon us, I saw the windows had been thrown open and out poked gun barrels. I ran behind a newspaper stand and shouted a warning. The gunmen fired wildly and we returned the favor in kind. Darrel was grazed on the leg, but came out alright. We poured damn near all we had into that cart until the guns stopped. We caught the horses and calmed them down and inspected the bodies. As we laid them out, men and women ran at us, wailing and beating us with their fists. We dispersed them with a few shots into the air, but had to put down a couple that came at us with knives. Ottus suffered a nasty stab wound. The audacity of these Yamato! To think the men in the cart could have killed any passerby in the street in the crossfire, and they weren’t even grateful? This place is mad.
23rd February, 4901
We’ve finally been ordered to mobilize. Time to say goodbye to the hellhole of Junkyu. Ever since the cart attack, the people gave us dirty looks. They watched us through the shutters and stared as they passed by. We raided a few homes in the attempt to find illicit weapons. Just a few hunting rifles, mostly, but we carried back some spectacular swords. If the Yamato fumed when we entered their homes, they had meltdowns when we confiscated these. They wept and begged and grabbed at our sleeves, but we pushed them away and took the weapons with us. I don’t know what the fuss is over some old relics, but these people do love their swords. Our new orders are to link up with the 29th Auxiliary Legion. It seems fighting has broken out with some nationalist militia. This is what we’ve all been waiting for.
The last four diary entries of Private Kaus Aabeldun, found on his person when his body was recovered on 25th February, 4901 YDC. Posthumously awarded the Medal of Exemplary Courage for his actions the day prior.
Imperial Dominion of Kitagawa
16th February, 4901
We’ve almost arrived at Nilrandell. The mood onboard is light. Pietyr joked we’re being sent in because the auxilia are too incompetent to suppress a bunch of Yamato. On a more serious note, I find myself agreeing with him. Before we left, we received a report that the 27th Auxiliary Legion opened fire on a crowd of protesters - things turned to shit and they failed to even hold their ground in the stampede. Makes you wonder how the Imperium has managed to stick together this long, if true. The boys are confident we’ll put the Yamato in their place and we’ll be back home in the Spring. I hope they’re right.
- - - - -
17th of February, 4901
We’ve finally landed on Kitagawan soil. Nilrandell is a busy place. There are ships from all over the Imperium in port and all sorts of people. We set up our base of operations inside the city and moved our supplies in from the ships. The Yamato I’ve encountered seemed indifferent to our presence. Maybe they’re too far from the capital to care what’s going on? The children laughed at us and begged for treats, but Darrel told them off with the butt of his rifle. The unrest seems so far away.
- - - - -
19th of February, 4901
We saw our first action today. Our orders were to enforce martial law in a town called Junkyu. In other words, we stood around on the streets and did our best to look professional as the Yamato went about their daily business. Around noon, a horse cart attempted to run the checkpoint we’d set up. We yelled at the driver in what little Yamato we learned on the trip, but he wouldn’t stop. There was something in his eyes. Madness. Or fierce determination, one of the two. When he was almost upon us, I saw the windows had been thrown open and out poked gun barrels. I ran behind a newspaper stand and shouted a warning. The gunmen fired wildly and we returned the favor in kind. Darrel was grazed on the leg, but came out alright. We poured damn near all we had into that cart until the guns stopped. We caught the horses and calmed them down and inspected the bodies. As we laid them out, men and women ran at us, wailing and beating us with their fists. We dispersed them with a few shots into the air, but had to put down a couple that came at us with knives. Ottus suffered a nasty stab wound. The audacity of these Yamato! To think the men in the cart could have killed any passerby in the street in the crossfire, and they weren’t even grateful? This place is mad.
- - - - -
23rd February, 4901
We’ve finally been ordered to mobilize. Time to say goodbye to the hellhole of Junkyu. Ever since the cart attack, the people gave us dirty looks. They watched us through the shutters and stared as they passed by. We raided a few homes in the attempt to find illicit weapons. Just a few hunting rifles, mostly, but we carried back some spectacular swords. If the Yamato fumed when we entered their homes, they had meltdowns when we confiscated these. They wept and begged and grabbed at our sleeves, but we pushed them away and took the weapons with us. I don’t know what the fuss is over some old relics, but these people do love their swords. Our new orders are to link up with the 29th Auxiliary Legion. It seems fighting has broken out with some nationalist militia. This is what we’ve all been waiting for.
- - - - -
The last four diary entries of Private Kaus Aabeldun, found on his person when his body was recovered on 25th February, 4901 YDC. Posthumously awarded the Medal of Exemplary Courage for his actions the day prior.
Early Morning, February 3rd, 4901 YDC
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal
King Iestyn III pursed his lips as he stared into the depths of the porridge in his bowl. His mind had been racing since an attendant had whispered the news in his ear. He was short an uncle and two cousins, and two more wanted nothing more than to tear at each other’s throats. That was a fact of life he’d known ever since they were children. He remembered when Ecruir tore pages out of Olarth’s books. Or when Olarth threw Ecruir’s lead soldiers into the lake. It was a cycle that had never broken. Only now, the stakes were higher than fairy tales and toys.
“Dear, your breakfast will get cold,” a voice sang. Iestyn blinked, looked up and found the gentle face of his queen. He smiled back weakly and toyed with his spoon.
“My breakfast is the least of my worries, Ilsye,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I know. Emperor Naerzo was always good to you.”
“He was a good man, and a good emperor. Now he’s gone and so is the only cousin I ever got along with. Vomlur might have been his father’s equal.”
Vomlur had been more like an older brother than a cousin. While the younger siblings either fought or hid themselves away in their rooms, Vomlur rode horses and spent time with Iestyn. Groomed from birth as the inheritor of the greatest empire known to history, Vomlur was schooled by the most esteemed professors in history, warfare, sciences and language. He’d pass on what he learned to an enthralled, young Iestyn. The twins were always absorbed in their own fantasies. What use did they have for such academics? After all, everyone always considered it a given Vomlur would ascend the throne. Last night had put that assumption to rest.
“It’s only a matter of time before either Olarth or Ecruir ask for my help,” Iestyn continued. “Who would you chose?”
Ilsye folded her hands and grinned. “Neither.” When Iestyn cocked his eyebrow, she added, “You are my king and my husband.”
“But if you were in my position?”
Ilsye leaned close, running her foot up Iestyn’s leg beneath the table.“I am for Velendaal. And you are Velendaal’s king,” she cooed. “Olarth, Ecruir, they can’t hope to be the man Naerzo was.” Iestyn squirmed in his seat as he felt Ilsye push her sole into his groin. Their gazes locked, breakfast all but forgotten.
“Yllendyr needs a strong emperor,” Ilsye said. “Someone like Vomlur, yes. But I’d prefer someone like you.” She fixed him with a devilish grin.
Iestyn threw his napkin off his lap and was across the table in seconds. He pulled Ilsye close and in her ear whispered, “I think I’ve found my appetite after all."
February 6th, 4901 YDC
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal
Iestyn perched himself on the windowsill overlooking the courtyard. He was in a private room of the palace, joined by just a handful of close confidants. Among them was his brother Prince Chaylen, field marshal of the army.
“Ecruir has requested Velendaalen soldiers to keep the Shogunate in line,” Chaylen said. “Place has become unstable, with the Shogun dead.”
“Least we can do is make sure his replacement doesn’t get assassinated too,” Iestyn said. He took a sip from his wine glass and turned from the window. “Ecruir shall have what he asks for.”
Iestyn’s lifelong friend, Lord Adoln was next to speak. “But what about your sights on-”
“Ecruir needs to be assured we stand with him,” Iestyn interrupted. “So long as Velendaal fulfills its obligations to the throne, he will be satisfied, and we have breathing room.”
Chaylen nodded. “We must guard our hand until the cards are in our favor. We side with Ecruir, who wields the true power in Yllendyr. Once Olarth is no more, there will be only one brother to deal with.”
“The only thing that concerns me is the Sentinels,” Adoln said with a shrug. “If Olarth is defeated and Ecruir is crowned, they’ll pledge their loyalty to him.”
“I’m sure I can reason with my uncle,” Iestyn replied. “He’s a prince of Velendaal.”
“Maybe, but I agree with Adoln,” Chaylen said. “The Sentinels are a sleeping giant. Ecruir must not be coronated before we’re ready.”
The men shared knowing looks behind their wine glasses. The Imperial Order of Sentinels had declared neutrality until an emperor was crowned. While the auxilia were the Imperium's hammer, the Sentinels were its scalpel. It was an elite, entirely elven military and more than a match for the contemporary armies of the day. If it pledged loyalty to either claimant, things would get much, much harder.
After a moment, Iestyn slid off the windowsill, looked each man in the eye and raised his glass.
“A toast. To Velendaal and the Imperium.”
“To Velendaal and the Imperium,” they said in unison.
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal
King Iestyn III pursed his lips as he stared into the depths of the porridge in his bowl. His mind had been racing since an attendant had whispered the news in his ear. He was short an uncle and two cousins, and two more wanted nothing more than to tear at each other’s throats. That was a fact of life he’d known ever since they were children. He remembered when Ecruir tore pages out of Olarth’s books. Or when Olarth threw Ecruir’s lead soldiers into the lake. It was a cycle that had never broken. Only now, the stakes were higher than fairy tales and toys.
“Dear, your breakfast will get cold,” a voice sang. Iestyn blinked, looked up and found the gentle face of his queen. He smiled back weakly and toyed with his spoon.
“My breakfast is the least of my worries, Ilsye,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I know. Emperor Naerzo was always good to you.”
“He was a good man, and a good emperor. Now he’s gone and so is the only cousin I ever got along with. Vomlur might have been his father’s equal.”
Vomlur had been more like an older brother than a cousin. While the younger siblings either fought or hid themselves away in their rooms, Vomlur rode horses and spent time with Iestyn. Groomed from birth as the inheritor of the greatest empire known to history, Vomlur was schooled by the most esteemed professors in history, warfare, sciences and language. He’d pass on what he learned to an enthralled, young Iestyn. The twins were always absorbed in their own fantasies. What use did they have for such academics? After all, everyone always considered it a given Vomlur would ascend the throne. Last night had put that assumption to rest.
“It’s only a matter of time before either Olarth or Ecruir ask for my help,” Iestyn continued. “Who would you chose?”
Ilsye folded her hands and grinned. “Neither.” When Iestyn cocked his eyebrow, she added, “You are my king and my husband.”
“But if you were in my position?”
Ilsye leaned close, running her foot up Iestyn’s leg beneath the table.“I am for Velendaal. And you are Velendaal’s king,” she cooed. “Olarth, Ecruir, they can’t hope to be the man Naerzo was.” Iestyn squirmed in his seat as he felt Ilsye push her sole into his groin. Their gazes locked, breakfast all but forgotten.
“Yllendyr needs a strong emperor,” Ilsye said. “Someone like Vomlur, yes. But I’d prefer someone like you.” She fixed him with a devilish grin.
Iestyn threw his napkin off his lap and was across the table in seconds. He pulled Ilsye close and in her ear whispered, “I think I’ve found my appetite after all."
- - - - -
February 6th, 4901 YDC
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal
Iestyn perched himself on the windowsill overlooking the courtyard. He was in a private room of the palace, joined by just a handful of close confidants. Among them was his brother Prince Chaylen, field marshal of the army.
“Ecruir has requested Velendaalen soldiers to keep the Shogunate in line,” Chaylen said. “Place has become unstable, with the Shogun dead.”
“Least we can do is make sure his replacement doesn’t get assassinated too,” Iestyn said. He took a sip from his wine glass and turned from the window. “Ecruir shall have what he asks for.”
Iestyn’s lifelong friend, Lord Adoln was next to speak. “But what about your sights on-”
“Ecruir needs to be assured we stand with him,” Iestyn interrupted. “So long as Velendaal fulfills its obligations to the throne, he will be satisfied, and we have breathing room.”
Chaylen nodded. “We must guard our hand until the cards are in our favor. We side with Ecruir, who wields the true power in Yllendyr. Once Olarth is no more, there will be only one brother to deal with.”
“The only thing that concerns me is the Sentinels,” Adoln said with a shrug. “If Olarth is defeated and Ecruir is crowned, they’ll pledge their loyalty to him.”
“I’m sure I can reason with my uncle,” Iestyn replied. “He’s a prince of Velendaal.”
“Maybe, but I agree with Adoln,” Chaylen said. “The Sentinels are a sleeping giant. Ecruir must not be coronated before we’re ready.”
The men shared knowing looks behind their wine glasses. The Imperial Order of Sentinels had declared neutrality until an emperor was crowned. While the auxilia were the Imperium's hammer, the Sentinels were its scalpel. It was an elite, entirely elven military and more than a match for the contemporary armies of the day. If it pledged loyalty to either claimant, things would get much, much harder.
After a moment, Iestyn slid off the windowsill, looked each man in the eye and raised his glass.
“A toast. To Velendaal and the Imperium.”
“To Velendaal and the Imperium,” they said in unison.
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