SnickerSnacker

STAR WARS: OUTCAST SQUADRON

Looks like I'm late to the party.

@Skwint

Don't count yourself out just yet. The OOC is still a WIP

STAR WARS: OUTCAST SQUADRON

@SnickerSnacker Just a thought, but would an ex clone commando work? Like his inhibitor chip malfunctioned during Order 66 and he fled after failing to save his Jedi and is the last one of his squad.

@Theyra

Could certainly work but it's all about the execution. I don't really give two hoots about power level but if anyone is writing a Force-sensitive in this thread, they better be ready to face the consequences in the RP.

STAR WARS: OUTCAST SQUADRON

---

Long ago, in a galaxy far away....

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STAR WARS: INSURGENCY

It is an era of tyranny. The remnants of the OLD REPUBLIC have been swept aside as democracy and freedom are sacrificed in the name of security. Countless sectors continue to fall under the sway of the GALACTIC EMPIRE as dissidence continues to be quashed underneath their heel. Planets are mercilessly harvested and their local populations are enslaved to provide new cogs in the Imperial war machine.

However, not all hope is lost. Guerilla fighters, insurgents, and rogue REBEL cells remain scattered amongst the galaxy, desperately fighting for freedom against the ever-growing reach of the Empire. However, infighting and disunity prevent any future of a galaxy-wide REBELLION. Accusations of moles and double agents run rampant across rebel groups as the newly formed Imperial Security Bureau seeks to control and suppress all known dissidents of the Empire.

Deep within the CORRELLIAN RUN hyper-route, a small cell by the name of OUTCAST SQUADRON has been covertly disrupting Imperial trade routes and supply chains under the leadership of COMMANDER URIA GALANS. However, an Imperial ambush has resulted in the capture of the entire squadron. En route to the Takar'ran Imperial Outpost, Commander Uria and his crew must make a daring plan to escape Imperial clutches, lest, vital information about nascent rebel movements is lost to the Empire......

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Star Wars: Outcast Squadron is a roleplay set in 10 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin). The Rebel Alliance has yet to emerge and only small pockets of resistance are present throughout the galaxy. This is not the tale of heroes such as Luke Skywalker, Kanan Jarrus or Cal Kestus. This is the story of soldiers, criminals, assassins and polticians all trying to give birth to a better tomorrow, one blaster bolt at a time.

I'm just posting this interest check to gauge activity for the time being while I work on the OOC. If you've got any questions, just ask.

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

yo, what up. i am super dee duper excited. i had a pretty wacky, zacky idea for this RP using the power of my trusty comrade, chatgpt. i want to do the cs in the style of the character to do some of that method roleplaying so this is what i've come up with. pls do not laugh.

---

Sup, yo? This is the one and only Marshall Hound of Yeats, and I'm here to drop my character sheet for all you fellow adventurers out there. I'm a bardic rapper who's lived the thug life and seen some crazy things, but I'm still here to tell the stories of Skyrim.

Name: Marshall Hound of Yeats

Race: Khajiit

Age: 32

Birthsign: The Shadow

Family Origins: My ma and pa was from West Riften, yo.

History:
Yo yo yo, what up homies? It's your boy Marshall Hound of Yeats, the baddest bard in all of Tamriel. I'm here to tell y'all my story, so sit back, roll up a blunt, and let me take you on a journey through my crazy life.

I was born in Riften, in the land of Skyrim. My ma was a Khajiit and my pa was a Nord, so you could say I got the best of both worlds. But it wasn't always easy growing up. We lived in the poor part of town, and my pa was always getting into trouble with the law. He was a thief, see, and he didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted.

My ma did her best to keep me on the straight and narrow, but it was hard with my pa always bringing home stolen goods and bragging about his exploits. But I learned a thing or two from him, like how to pick locks and how to sneak around without being seen. I figured I could use those skills to make a better life for myself.

So I started hanging out with some of the other kids in the neighborhood, and we formed a little gang. We called ourselves the Riften Ruffians, and we did all sorts of thuggish stuff. We stole from the rich, we beat up the weak, and we didn't take no shit from nobody.

But I was always a little different from the rest of the gang. See, I had a talent for rapping. I'd listen to the bards in the marketplace and I'd memorize their rhymes, and then I'd make up my own verses. The other kids thought it was funny at first, but then they started to realize that I was actually pretty good.

One day, we were hanging out in the Ratway, and I started rapping about our exploits. The other kids started cheering and clapping, and before I knew it, we had a crowd gathered around us. That's when I knew I had something special.

So I started practicing more, honing my craft. I listened to every bard I could find, and I studied the histories of Tamriel so I could weave them into my rhymes. And before long, I was the most famous bard in Riften. People would come from all over just to hear me perform.

But fame has its downsides, you know? I started getting into some bad habits. I'd smoke weed before every show, and sometimes I'd even do a little skooma to get me in the right frame of mind. And that's when things started to spiral out of control.

I started getting into fights with other bards, and I'd show up to gigs high as a kite. I stopped caring about my lyrics and started spouting nonsense just to get a reaction from the crowd. And eventually, I got banned from performing in Riften altogether.

But that didn't stop me. I took my act on the road, and pretty soon I was the most famous bard in all of Tamriel. People knew me as Marshall Hound of Yeats, the thuggish rapper who didn't give a fuck. And I played up that persona, acting tough and spouting vulgar rhymes.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't who I really was. I missed my ma and my old gang, and I regretted some of the things I'd done. So I started to pull back a little, to focus more on my music and less on the fame and fortune.

And that's where I'm at now. I still smoke weed and do a little skooma now and then, but I've got my priorities straight. I'm the baddest bard in all of Skyrim.

Biggest Regret: Aww, shizzle my nizzle, you got me goin' deep, huh? Well, let me tell you 'bout my biggest regret, man. It's a heavy load on my mind, but I'm gonna share it with you 'cause I trust you.

Back in the day, when I was runnin' with my homies in the streets, we did some things we ain't proud of. We thought we were invincible, you know what I'm sayin'? But one night, we took it too far. We were rollin' deep in Riften, and we got into a fight with some guys from another gang. I was high as a kite, and I pulled out my dagger and stabbed one of them.

That was my biggest mistake, man. I didn't realize the gravity of what I had done until it was too late. The guy I stabbed died on the spot, and I had to flee the city with my crew. I never looked back, but that moment haunts me to this day.

I wish I could turn back time and make a different choice. Maybe if I had put down my weapon and walked away, things would have turned out differently. But I was too caught up in the moment, too blinded by my ego.

Nowadays, I use my music to spread a positive message, to try and make up for my past mistakes. But that regret still lingers, like a dark cloud over my head. All I can do is hope that someday, somehow, I can find a way to make amends.

Marshall's Goal: Yo, yo, yo, let me tell you 'bout my main man, Marshall Hound of Yeats. He's all 'bout the music, makin' rhymes that hit you like a blast of skooma. And you know what? His goal is simple, but it ain't easy. He wants to be the best bardic rapper in all of Tamriel.

He ain't satisfied with just spittin' lyrics at any ol' tavern. Nah, he wants to be performing in the grandest halls, in front of the most important people. He wants to be known far and wide for his skills on the lute, and have his music inspire a new generation of bards.

But it ain't just about the fame and glory, nah. Marshall knows that music has the power to bring people together, to heal wounds and create harmony where there was once discord. He wants to use his music to make a real difference in the world, to help those who need it most.

So that's it, man. Marshall Hound of Yeats wants to be the greatest bardic rapper in all of Tamriel, and use his music to make the world a better place. And you know what? I think he's got what it takes to make it happen.

Personality:
I'm a laid-back and easy-going dude, but don't mistake that for weakness. I've lived the thug life and I know how to handle myself in tough situations. I'm loyal to my crew and my friends, and I'm always up for a good time. I'm not afraid to speak my mind and tell it like it is, and I'm always looking for new experiences to inspire my music.

Skills:
I'm a master of the rap battle, and I know how to use my words to tell a story and motivate my crew. I'm also a skilled thief and pickpocket, and I know how to navigate the seedy underbelly of Skyrim. I'm a talented musician, and I can play a variety of instruments, including the lute and the drum. And of course, I'm a master of smoking weed and yipping that skooma, man.

Skills: N/A. still figuring out what this guy's skills would be.

Equipment:
I think the best style is to keep my shit simple and efficient. Not a fan of complicated gear that would slow him down or require too much maintenance. I only need to carry the shit I needs to perform, survive and enjoy his high.

First and foremost, I got my trusty lute. Also got a simple set of banded leather armor that reflect my thug life and love for weed. The chestplate got an enchanted marijuana leaf printed on the back, which he uses to keep warm in cold climates or to hide his face if he needs to go incognito. I also carry a small pouch that contains his weed stash, rolling papers, and matches. I never go anywhere without it, and I often be seen taking a hit between performances or during long treks through the wilderness.For protection, I carry a sturdy steel dagger with a leather grip that he can use to defend himself in case of danger. I also have a small buckler shield that he uses to deflect incoming attacks if needed.

Finally, I always got a few septims on me, which he earns through his performances or by engaging in a little bit of skooma trade. I use my money to buy food, lodging, and, of course, more weed. I always look for new opportunities to make a quick buck.

The Hourglass Order

can i get confirmation that mallow is an n-p-c bc i du not c the goose in the n p c list. i am vry srs about this.

The Hourglass Order

okay, i know last time i was kidding but this time, more better.

Tyatlov Tebas

Tyatlov Roshima Tebas

" Money. Sex. Academic studies. A Life. There is nothing, but Atomic Magic and Sigma radiation. Only true Sigmas ignore reality and focus on absorbing Sigma radiation. All of you are lowly alphas, betas and gammas, absorbing your pitiful standards of radiation whilst I shine, ascending to become of the Quintic gods.

Hail the Sigma Grindset. "

18 | Male | ?????? | Commoner | 9.999999999999999999999999999?

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Independent]
❖ [Objectivist]
❖ [Enlightened By Radioactivity]
❖ [Social Darwinist]
❖ [Embraces Sigma Radiation]

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

When one looks at Tyatlov, they can see the clear physical indications of what absorbing Sigma radiation has done to him in pursuit of the Sigma Grindset. The cranial domes of his hairless forehead are the peak of embracing sigma radiation. After all, only those who absorb alpha and beta radiation deserve what they get: fully haired foreheads. Several large engorgements and beautiful protrusions stretch his skin apart, ripe to burst with Sigma radiation.

It doesn't matter what the Binding and Chemical mages say or how painful Tyatlov feels whenever his heart tries to beat. The only way to achieve the true Sigma grindset is to ignore your own health and focus solely on absorbing Sigma radiation.

L A N G U A G E S

Tyatlov only speaks the language of the Sigma, which is to say none. Multiple cerebral tumors in his frontal and cerebral cortex from drawing of Sigma radiation in the Earth's core have allowed him to process and understand the language of the Sigma which may be an unintelligible stream of gibberish combining syntax and words from various other languages and their associated dialects across Constantia.

Only a true Sigma is able to interpret his holy words, which is to say there is none because everyone else is a beta radiation absorber.

T H E G I F T

Tyatlov possesses the mightiest RAS level of 9.999999999999999, a feat that has astounded the Arch-Zenos of Ersand'Enise and one Tyatlov knew could only be achieved by bathing in Sigma radiation and devoting his life solely to the study of Atomic magic. However, he has cast aside all distractions of improving his gifts and learning spells which is what those who would absorb beta radiation would do. A follower of the Sigma Grindset does not need to associate himself with the trivialities of those betas who cast spells and duel one another. All magic is inferior to Atomic magic and the most superior of Atomic magic is the way of the Sigma. Only those who absorb Sigma radiation endlessly in one spot without moving will achieve the Sigma Grindset.

B A C K G R O U N D

Tyatlov once was a lowly commoner leading a life in a uranium mine somewhere in East Severa, leading a simple life absorbing beta radiation and submitting to his peers who absorbed gamma radiation. One day, after ignoring protests from his beta co-workers distracting themselves with his safety and asking why a child was mining radioactive material with them, he played audience to Lierre Thebas, a merchant mage who espoused to an audience of angry middle-aged men and enterprising young merchants about the Sigma philosophy alternatively known as the Sigma Grindset.

It was intriguing to Tyatlov as he overheard the theory espoused by the well-manicured merchant. The universe was ordered by frequencies of radiation with the highest frequency being the most superior and the lowest frequency being the most inferior. Sigma radiation was the most highest and therefore, was the most superior. Those who absorbed the most Sigma radiation and avoided death would rise to the top of the social hierarchy and ascend to a level beyond those of the Quintic Pentad.

It was thus that Tyatlov decided that he would enter deep into the uranium mines to meditate and absorb radiation until he would achieve the Sigma Grindset at the age of 5. His co-workers tried to prevent him from achieving his destiny, those beta fools. He entered deep into the mines and sat and sat without eating or drinking. It was painful at first as the Sigma radiation bathed his body, weeding out the impurities and rendering his soul pure. However, after 10 years of bathing in constant Sigma radiation, he emerged with one of the highest RAS levels.

The Arch-Zenos immediately allowed him to enroll at Ersand'Enise, citing his immense RAS levels from absorbing the vaunted Sigma radiation as the decision for his entry. Tyatlov however decided to ignore his studies and instead, published a book on the Sigma Grindset to sell to more angry middle-aged men like his idol, Lierre Thebas.

M O T I V A T I O N

To become the ultimate Sigma male.

I N V E N T O R Y

None. A Sigma male needs nothing aside from his own body, his focus, his will and the ability to ignore money, women, sex and other schools of magic aside from Atomic Magic.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ The Sigma Grindset
❖ The Sigma Grindset
❖ The Sigma Grindset
❖ The Sigma Grindset
❖ The Sigma Grindset

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ None Life Expectancy Cut By A Quarter Due to Over-Exposure to Radiation
❖ None Multiple Genetic Defects
❖ None Chronic Organ Failure
❖ None Delusions of Grandeur
❖ None There Isn't Even Such A THing as Sigma Radiation

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

The Sigma Grindset is All.

The Hourglass Order

okay, slightly more serio this time than the goose. i super promise.

Quincy

Quincy T. Chad

raises index finger upwards and twirls it before opening and closing fingers together several times. Proceeds to then raise middle finger vigorously for the course of several minutes before thumbing downwards and then, splaying fingers outwards and waggling them. Stops motioning before skittering off and returning with a piece of chalk to draw on a chalkboard*

*IF I CAN DO ALL THAT WITH JUST FIVE FINGERS, IMAGINE WHAT YOU COULD DO WITH ALL YOUR LIMBS, YOU KIDS.*

245 | Asexual | Revidian | Artisan | 1.0

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Wizened]
❖ [Sarcastic]
❖ [Cynical]
❖ [Possibly Sinister]
❖ [Soft-Hearted]

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

A pale, emaciated puppet of flesh and skin skin traipsing around on five knobbled fingers. The stump from where he was extracted from his original body has now healed over with a white patch of scar tissue, although, it is slightly misfigured with the anterior surface of the radius jagging outwards.

L A N G U A G E S

Quincy is fluent in all languages, with the exception of Yasoi dialects, although, he prefers writing in Avinician because it tires him out less.

T H E G I F T

He's just a hand. A miracle of Dark magic, perhaps, but there's not a drop of magical talent in him.

However, he's really good at making teenagers freak out.

B A C K G R O U N D

Quincy T. Chad - if that even is his real name, seriously, who named him? - is the former reanimated left hand of Chad Errington, an Magusjaeger from West Revidia who fought in a territorial dispute of a fishing port between the Kingdom of Perrence and the Confederation of Revidia. Chad perished in the battle but not before his corpse was stolen by Mardru Belgonia, a binder of prodigious talent and hypothesized by many to be the first Dark Mage (Which has been thoroughly debunked. I mean, Dark Magic is just superstition and fairy tale stupidity.). Using unknown reagents and a process which cost him his life as Arch-Zenos broke down the door to his lair, a hand was imbibed with sentience and thus, Quincy was born.

For a century since that incident, Quincy was locked in a glass jar and prodded at by the Arch-Zenos of Ersand'Enise whereby Quincy was locked in a existential state of crisis over coinciding his newly found sentience and the fact that he had no penis, legs, arms or a mouth for which to scream with. It was only the last decade of his solitude that he decided enough was enough and began to move. Unfortunately, ninety years of being stuck comatose in a depressed state led to him immediately suffering cramps and muscle pains which were interpreted as seizures by the Arch-Zenos observing his captivity. When Quincy proved his sentience and argued for his release strenuously to the Arch-Zenos of Ersand'Enise, it was agreed that he would stay at Ersand'Enise as there was no place in the hostile, ignorant world to a disembodied hand such as him.

Thus, Quincy T Chad was born. Many a new student regard him as a monster whilst graduates and alumni of Ersand'Enise have regarded him as an odd fixture of this proud academy.

Then, one day, he was assaulted by Mallow, thus starting one of the famous feuds of all time.

M O T I V A T I O N

Quincy T Chad wants to prove to the world that a living hand like him can still prosper amongst us humans and also, fuck that piece of shit goose, Mallow, seriously

I N V E N T O R Y

Quincy usually dons himself in a plate gauntlet for protection against students who may trample on his fingers and the wary ambushes of Mallow, the Goose-Slayer of Ersand'Enise. There is little a hand can carry on his person so Quincy has adopted the help of a carrier pidgeon who ferries his belongings across Ersand'Enise. However, this carrier pidgeon has often mistaken him for an animal or another mindless object. Thus, numerous incidents occur where Quincy is dumped into the waters of the arboretum and must await for an Arch-Zeno to fetch him.

Quincy also carries a small bar of soup strapped to a wrist-belt alongside a piece of chalk to help communicate with students and to ensure that he is not a cursed object sent to kill them all.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Encyclopediac knowledge of the grounds of Ersand'Enise and magical theory in general.
❖ Iron will because you need to be really motivated to be stuck in the mortal coil of a hand for two centuries and a half.
❖ Able to play the violin. You just have to watch it for yourself.
❖ Conditioning of finger and hand muscles for two centuries allows him to move extremely fast.
❖ Extremely proficient at thumb wrestling.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ Lacks the ability to taste and smell things because he doesn't really have a nose or mouth. Now, you might be asking: why did Mardru give Quincy the ability to touch, hear and see? There is no answer to that because the wild minds of RAS 9 mages are beyond us puny mortals. (He wanted Quincy to be able to go open the door.)
❖ Ladders and mouse traps
❖ Has a obsessive hatred for Mallow, the Goose-Slayer
❖ Extremely hot objects
❖ Currently in a state of repressed clinical depression from being a hand.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Anything not covered above goes here. You can leave this blank if you like.

The Hourglass Order

okay, serious this time

Mallow

Mallow

*hisssssss* HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK

Unknown | Male | Perrence? | Noble | 6.0

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Fickle]
❖ [Attention-Seeking]
❖ [Evil]
❖ [Chaotic]
❖ [Greedy]

Mallow, the Goose, often waddles around the arboretum of Ersand'Enise at random, picking on newcomers, and stealing whatever is left on the ground to add to his collection.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

White colouration. Orange beak. 60 pounds. Not fat. Just really feathered.

L A N G U A G E S

- Goose (Advanced)
- Cat (Intermediate)
- Avinician (Basic)

T H E G I F T

Mallow is able to harness the power of Kinetic energy to create audio-sonic honks of a destructive nature alongside harnessing her body's internal chemical energy to zoom around at great speeds to cause havoc.

B A C K G R O U N D

IN THE FIRST TERM

IN THE FIRST SCHOOL EXAM

WHEN THE SHADOWS OF ERSAND'ENISE FIRST LENGTHENED

ONE GOOSLING STOOD

BURNED BY THE FIRES OF A MAGE

HIS FAMILY BLISTERED BY THE FIRES OF HELL

AND TAINTED BEYOND ASCENSCION

HE CHOSE THE PATH OF ETERNAL HONKING

IN HIS RAVENOUS GREED, HE FOUND NO PEACE

AND WITH BOILING BLOOD, HE SCOURED THE UMBRAL PLAINS

SEEKING VENGEANCE AGAINST THE MAGES WHO HAD WRONGED HIM

HE WORE THE CROWN OF THE GOOSE SENTINELS

AND THOSE WHO HEARD THE SOUND OF HIS HONK NAME HIM

MALLOW

THE GOOSE-SLAYER

M O T I V A T I O N

To steal every mage's right boot and add it to his collection.

I N V E N T O R Y

Unknown. Estimated value of underground horde outweighs the treasuries of most kingdoms.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Master of Assymetrical Warfare
❖ Burglarly
❖ Swimming
❖ Honking
❖ Intimidation

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ Belly rubs
❖ Breadcrumbs
❖ Female gooses
❖ Roosters
❖ Blessed Quintic Water

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Anything not covered above goes here. You can leave this blank if you like.

The Hourglass Order

Gorrister

Lierre Tebas

"I was once told that I was very weak, it's become very clear to me that everyone else is just strong."

96| Male| Perrench| Nobility| 0.01

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [ Disturbed]
❖ [Wild ]
❖ [ Abrasive]
❖ [ Comical]
❖ [Aloof ]

Lierre unfortunately suffers from sanity, which sometimes makes him to have these sane delusions about the nature of dreams and the nature of the people around him. Whenever he is not in a sanity episode, he is usually trying to cure himself of life's greatest scourge, boredom, but don't let his sane demeanor fool you he is not a very cold person. He likes to keep people at kilometers-length and has a bit of a chip on his shoulder due to being of a doo-doo pants. He has a quick temper and hates being disrespected, in which he will make fun of and threaten who ever has transgressed against him. He known for having a dark gleam in his eyes as if there is there is something inhuman behind his eyes. He has a very tepid sense of humor and it often leads to him saying very normal things because he gets a kick of making people happy or excited. Something he enjoys even more then trolling is pondering the philosophical and existential implication of bananas, even though he probably shouldn't given the whole crazy thing.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

Lierre is actually quite ugly, but loves whenever people try to compliment him on his looks. He has purple hair with golden eyes with a bulbous noise. He is decently tall at 280 cm, and being of an shredded build with a 8 pack and some major scars on his upper pectorals and his butt.

Lierre usually just dresses like a commoner on most occasions, with his usual "wardrobe" of tunics and pants in dark neutral colors. He has some hoods for whenever it rains, and some pajams for whenever it's hot outside.

L A N G U A G E S

He is fluent in an obscure language of Avinician that was given to him by consuming hallucogenic mushrooms.

T H E G I F T

Lierre thinks he is a truly gifted mage. He likes to keep his magical talents under wraps because he doesn't need people bugging him or holding him in some kind of special regard. He has gotten some personal tutoring from the duke who pities him and believes he holds remarkable skill in the gift even though it is noticeably unrefined despite his best efforts.

B A C K G R O U N D

Lierre was born to KING THIERRE in Perrence and for the most part it was a horrible and soul-crushing existence. Lierre was sent to live as a ward with the Duke of Lillience as a show of loyalty. This led to a very painful and arduous existence as he was being held as a hostage and treated with care and being constantly reminded of his higher status and his status as a noble. He would be beaten severely whenever he dare ask to be treated with the same respect as a slave, and thus would develop a deep hatred for the slaves. This is also around the time his mental illness would surface and due to the education of mental illness in Perrence, he would further be sympathized with and treated as a simple noble even if he wanted to act as a slave.

His luck would finally turn around on his 14th birthday when it was discovered that this kid had an insanely low RAS score of below 1. When this was discovered, the duke bribed an Arch-Xeno to take him to Ersand'Enise. Before he would go however, he would receive tutoring in the ways of magic and it was found that he had no skill in the magical arts.

May the Pentad bless his soul.

M O T I V A T I O N

Honestly, Lierre is just happy and he needs something to save that happiness. Like sure getting treated like a slave is good and all, but more importantly it's boring.

I N V E N T O R Y

He has an ancient wooden staff crafted from exquisite shale obsidian and ash wood, given to him by the duke, which he threw onto the ground because he needs no hand outs

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Slow learner
❖Bad at games
❖Thinks on his hands
❖Slow reflexes
❖ Good at flexing his 32 muscles

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ Gambling survivor
❖ Risk survivor
❖Sane
❖ Will start a fight over the slightest positive comment
❖ Will go to short lengths to cure his boredom.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Anything not covered above goes here. You can leave this blank if you like.

pls review, i spent a lot of effort on this CS

what's up, my fellow roleplayers

what's up. just taking the lay of the land over here right now. the name's snickersnacker, call me snack, snick, snicksnack, snackshack but never snickshack or Alice in Wonderland's sword.

i'm primarily interested in a wide variety of genres from dungeon fantasy, post-apocalyptic science fiction, cosmic horror, urban fantasy coffee shops and mechas slugging other mechas in the face with thousand tonnes of knuckle sandwich.

i hope to engage in both 1x1 and group rps while i'm here.

have a good day and may the Flying Spaghetti Monster bless all of you with his noodly appendage.