vietmyke

Cyberpunk Blade Runner/Shadowrun inspired 1x1 (Mature, High-Casual, Advanced)

@Avanhelsing Coolio! Send me a pm when you get the chance. I'm currently at work, but I'll take a look this evening.

Cyberpunk Blade Runner/Shadowrun inspired 1x1 (Mature, High-Casual, Advanced)

@Rhea Heyo! Shoot me a pm whenever you get the chance and we can get to talking!

Printed guns, melded metal - An experimental GM-less Cyberpunk RP

Thinking a whiz-kid techie. Hotshot with a big mouth living in a local chinatown, who makes his living building and fixing tech for the locals- in this case the local Triads. He's been making a killing off buying the high tech from Lt. Davison and reprogramming and re-purposing it for the security systems and drone networks of the Chinatown triads. He's gotten in a bit over his head though- Lt. Davison's supplies have stopped trickling in and he's been caught selling shit to a rival triad, and well, its a big old mess.

Printed guns, melded metal - An experimental GM-less Cyberpunk RP

Ooh, cyberpunk. Sign me right the fuck up- once I get a good read through of this OOC chatter.

Hares on the Mountain

Interesting... fantasy meets sci fi, sorta like shadowrun but not like shadowrun... I might scrounge up a character. Thinking an Orc with a bad attitude and a big gun.

Cyberpunk Blade Runner/Shadowrun inspired 1x1 (Mature, High-Casual, Advanced)

badumperino

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

The Black Glacier, Lanostran Frontier

---

At the front of his small army, Galahad strode proudly, undaunted by the challenge before him. There was the crunch of glass as he cast aside several ether vials, which clattered against the ice and snow before being crushed underfoot by a cold, callous boot. Front loaded with ether, the brilliant emerald glow of Gallahad's eyes could be seen even behind the steel battle mask that covered his face. Beneath his mask, a cold grimace was etched on his face, as his fingers flexed reflexively, the ether coursing through his veins causing small chunks of ice on the ground to glow and hover around him as his body struggled to contain the excess energy.

Step by step, the approached the formation of demons, the tension in the air palpable as they waited for the inevitable moment that they'd turn and charge. Elisheva called out to him.

"The T'saraen research garrison. We are near the demons' attack perimeter. If we advance from here, we should expect them to take flight and rain down on us,"

One step was all it took. As they crossed the invisible threshold, Galahad could see the three seraphs sitting on their ice thrones turned their heads and stared directly at the inquisitors. Galahad could make eye contact with one of the demons, both of them faceless, Galahad with his mask and the demon with its visage. Above him, he heard the buzzing of wings. They were like insects. With a simple flourish, Galahad's saber flew from its scabbard and into his outstretched hand. He pointed the tip of the blade at the oncoming horde.

"Fire!" Galahad yelled. The rolling crack of rifle fire answered him. From Galahad's other hand, white-blue energy began to coalesce in his hand. Sweat beaded at his forehead as he created several orbs in his hand. Releasing them all at once, his breath shortened suddenly from the loss of energy as he launched three orbs of energy into the sky. Streaking into the air, the orbs found their marks within packs of enemies before the exploded. Galahad grimaced with satisfaction as the shattered bodies of demons fell out of the sky. Galahad managed to fire off three more etheric blasts before the Demons began taking to the ground, just as he predicted.

As Galahad stepped forward to face the demons now on the ground, he instinctively stepped out of the way as Terviclops and Tatiana sped by. His calm rocked for a moment, Galahad's jaw dropped behind his mask before he shook it off and waved Astrea onwards. The two Inquisitors followed Tatiana into the horde, sword and spear in hand. Galahad's eyes whipped back and forth as he scanned the horde of demons, taking in as much information as he could. He couldn't afford to stand still and wait for them to come to him. In such a battle where he was vastly outnumbered, he had to be the one to take the initiative, keep the enemy reacting to him, instead of converging on him. His eyes locked on a demon whipping around to face Tatiana's terviclops. Taking advantage of the distraction, Galahad leaped forward, the demon turning around just in time to catch Galahad's saber to the neck.

The balance of his saber was marvelous, if Galahad wasn't in such a dangerous situation he would've taken a second to admire his new weapon, though given the circumstances, that was the least of his worries. Instead, he put his new weapon through its paces turning on a heel and ducking under a second demon's swing before slapping at its torso with an open palm, a spell sending it flying away in pieces as a thunderclap exploded in its chest. Turning at the last second Galahad forced himself to the side as another demon's wing flew past him, shearing the steel pauldron off of his shoulder. Quickly recovering, Galahad pulled at the scrap of armor on his shoulder and threw it to the ground, holding his saber out to face the new threat.

The demon swung at him again, and Galahad instinctively sidled, sinking his saber into the demon's collarbone. Catching a flicker of movement to his left, Galahad shifted, moving the demon embedded in his sword along with it, the next oncoming demon swinging its wings into its friend, steered by Galahad into place. As ice crashed against ice, Galahad pulled the trigger on his saber, once, then twice into the torso of the demon as he pulled his blade out of the first. Throwing his palm forward, he blasted both of them with a wave of telekinetic energy, using chunks of one demon to smash into the other.

Sometime during the fight, Galahad found himself back to back with Astraea, any previous disagreement lost as they focused on killing the oncoming horde of demons. They moved almost as if they were dancing, Astraea flipped over Galahad's back and stabbed at one with a spear, as Galahad lunged in the opposite direction and struck with his saber. Astrea spun around in a half circle with a wide sweeping swing of her spear, Galahad followed the motion and loosed a flurry of crescents into more demons. Turning into a crouch, Galahad took to one knee and opened the case of tungsten balls at his side. Pulling out a dozen or two with telekinesis, he threw his hand out and let loose a huge scattering burst of tungsten cutting down several more demons that ran at them.

In the distance, Galahad heard the growl of Terviclops. He and Tatiana were rushing out further into the Glacier, towards the three seraphs that sat on their thrones. Galahad nearly slapped his face in exasperation.

"This one's going to get herself killed." Galahad cursed, "Astraea! With me! She's going off to pick a fight with their lords."

Turning to Elisheva, Galahad called out. "Elisheva! Cillian! Handle the rest! We're going on to destroy the leadership!"

Galahad and Astraea had cleared out enough of the demons that he was relatively confident that Elisheva and Cillian along with the rest of their conscripts could handle them.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Incidentally, as I'm writing this here post. If we don't understand the concept of fire/flames, where does the phrase 'open fire' come from? Lol

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Sorry! Busy weekend, birthday and all, so I was bombarded with plans. I have plenty of time to sit down tonight and write.

The Long Night | Medieval Fantasy

Emil Durand

The Durand Aviary

---

The Durand Aviary, settled in just outside of town, was afforded a relatively larger living space than those inside Vaucluse proper. The Aviary itself stretched pretty wide, a large open field in the center, where general work and training took place. On one side of the field stood the main coup and several smaller ones, for the Stryxes. On the opposite side of the field sat the Durand Homestead, a two story building made of a feldstone foundation with plaster and wooden upper floors. Next to it was a second building- a smaller bunkhouse for staff. The top of the house sat a small tower-like structure, wide windows affording it a view of the entire aviary.

Though their birds were highly sought after throughout Lutaire, the Durand's rarely employed other staff, mostly supplementary trainers and a few fieldhands. Of the half dozen men and women the Durand's employed, only one was a guard. As a result Emil and his older brother Sigmund often helped out as guards. Tonight was not much different. Emil and Tork, their hired guard sat at the top of the tower in the homestead, seated on opposite sides of a short table, a small lamp off to the side illuminating the open-air little gazebo. The two hunched over the small table, a cards in hand, a bottle and handful of coins on the table. Not much happened in this isolated town, so they passed their time with cards and drinks.

"Yer call Durand," Tork drawled as he pulled a pair of silver coins out of his pocket and placed them on the slowly growing pile of copper and silver pieces. He folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, confident.

Emil's eyes narrowed, darting back and forth between his cards and Tork's face, trying to find a chink in Tork's armored persona. His leg bounced up and down lightly. After a minute or so of complete silence, Emil shook his head and threw a pair of silver coins on the pile. "You've got nothing Tork," Emil replied confidently as he threw his cards down face up.

Emil allowed himself a small smile as he saw Tork's eyes open wider, and began reaching out for the small pile of coins. Before his hand could reach the coins though Tork swatted him with a hand. "Ah, close little Durand, very close."

Emil cursed aloud as Tork revealed his cards with a flick of his wrist. Tork laughed a loud, guffawing laugh as he casually swept the coins into his purse. "I tell you what Durand, sometimes I think I make more money from these games than the wages you lot pay me."

Not to be discouraged, Emil fished out another pair of coins and was about to put them down on the table when he heard the clacking of a Stryx's beak. Tork heard it too, and he stopped moving, motioning to the window with a finger. The two of them peeked out of the tower, their eyes quickly centering in on a torch nearby the coups. Emil rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, how had they missed that? It was a good thing Sigmund wasn't up, he'd be livid. Emil immediately recognized the Stryx out in the field as his own- Greytail. Greytail seemed to have been accompanied by a man- he couldn't tell in the dim light or distance, but they didn't have any guards other than Tork, so Emil was unsure who it could've been. The man seemed to be holding a pitchfork, which was pointed at the torchbearer. Tork reached over and grabbed a crossbow, pulling the cord back with a click before he slit a bolt into place, meanwhile, Emil tossed his lance out the window and hastily slid down the ladder, scooping the spear off the ground as he made his way across the field.

As Emil made his way across the field, he saw Greytail rear back, spreading his wings wide- in an intimidating gesture before giving out a sharp, piercing screech. In the dark and relative silence of night, the screech broke through like a thunderclap. Greytail's legs spaced out, and he beat his wings several times as he reared back, ready to stab his steel hard beak through the encroacher.

"Greytail! Heel!"

Greytail suddenly stopped mid-charge and reset himself, talons digging up dirt as they skidded to a stop. The large Stryx took several steps back and crouched slightly, his angry yellow eyes glaring intensely at the apparent invader- though seemed perfectly comfortable with the other 'invader'. That information in and of itself was confusing to Emil- Greytail liked very few people, not Tork, few of the trainers, not even his eldest brother.

"Who goes there?!" Emil demanded, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic bark as he planted one end of his lance into the ground, his right hand gripped around it loosely, but confidently.