vietmyke

Midnight Illusion Agency: An Urban Fantasy RP

Interesting, I may put something together. Probably a loose cannon Onmyouji of some sorts

Original Roleplay - Bloody Petals Fall - A Knight Roleplay

Tentative interest

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@OppositionJ Amazing! Thanks so much for the mini collab! Sorry for having poor Terviclops' horn cut off. I'm sure it'll grow back. Hopefully.

@vietmyke Okay so, just to save time, I'm going to send you a prompt to be included in Galahad's response.

@Lovejoy

Asymmetry is cooler anyhow. And Oki! I'll be waiting! My computer is currently borked though, so responses may be slow.

Kings & Killers: A Classic Fantasy Adventure (Chapter: 0) (COMPLETED)

Here's my own application I suppose. Might pull out the demonfolk part if that's too mucb

Hadar Reyd

Name Hadar Reyd
Height 6'0"
Weight 185 lbs
Age 27
Class Ranger
Race Demonfolk

Equipment A traveler by nature, Hadar holds a precious few things. He generally only carries along with him things that can be easily transported or are of special value to him

Equipment

• Hadar's Greatsword

  
  A dwarven forged greatsword of high quality taken from the body of a slain knight. Well balanced and nimble, it is a fine piece of craftsmanship, though not incredibly unique. While once well decorated and ornate, a combination of sand and continuous use has shorn off any of its prettier and flashier accouterments.
• Long Dagger - A simple, long bladed dagger for both close in fighting, and other utilitarian purposes.
• Tomahawk Axe - A simple multipurpose axe for both close in fighting, and other utilitarian purposes.
• Nomad's Armor - Tough and sturdy leathers supplemented by a thick coat of padded armor provides protection against cutting weapons, blunt impacts and the general wear and tear of travel with minimal maintenance while also allowing Hadar to stay mobile and on his feet. Steel vambraces, steel backed gloves, and steel greaves provide additional protection to Hadar's extremities without weighing him down too much. A nomad's cloak and shawl sits over his shoulders covering the ensemble. It provides adequate protection against human foes- which is all its really for. Hadar has seen first hand that all the protection in the world does little against the giant claws and tails of monstrous creatures, and as such favors mobility.
• Belt Satchel - A set of leather satchels at his sides carry a variety of immediately useful supplies: Twine, waterskin, travel rations, herbal ointments, a small bottle of spirits, rolls of clean cloth, and a spool of thread and a needle.
• Roshe, Travel Horse - A bulky, if somewhat slow moving and dimwitted horse, this serves as a combination beast of burden, riding animal, and travel companion for Hadar.
  
  • The saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a hunting bow along with a quiver of arrows, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a pouch of herbs, an oil lantern with a bottle of spare oil, a few days worth of provisions for Hadar as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas.

Skills and Abilities

• Swordsmanship Expertise - A former member of the Ironborn Free Company- a mercenary company hailing from the sands of Roh, Hadar was immersed in a brutal, warrior's culture from an early age. The fighting techniques learned in Roh are a mix of instinct and specialization with small numbers of weapons. The result, along with a decade of practical experience, are techniques and methods that are unorthodox but effective, catching many a more stringently trained foe offguard. Despite choice of weapons, Hadar is a surprisingly nimble combatant, and when aided by magic is a deadly foe.
• Tracker - A hunter of monsters and men. Primarily a hunter of demons and monsters, Hadar is a talented tracker and fighter, and can adapt to a variety of different and constantly changing situations, as the profession of hunting down these such creatures might entail. In a way, these techniques can also be applied to humans and other mortal races- who are slightly easier to predict than monsters.
• Demon Heritage - Hadar's demon blood traces back to a line of Wind Demons. While his latent powers are considerably more muted when compared to that of his forefathers, Hadar is still able to tap into this ancient blood. When tapping into this power, gusts of wind whip around Hadar, pushing at his back to move him faster, and granting him more dexterity. Also, his sense of smell is considerably more acute than the average human.
• Basic Magical Prowess - Possessing a modicum of magical talent, Hadar is able of casting simple spells. Among other abilities, Hadar is able to create small flames for light, lift small objects, and dull the pain (but not heal or remove the source) of smaller injuries. Offensively Hadar can create small blasts of wind to unbalance opponents and bright flashes of flame to disorient.
• Herbology & First Aid - While not an incredibly talented apothecary or herbalist, Hadar has a solid idea of how do find and gather common herbs with medical uses for basic purposes. Combined with basic knowledge of using alcohol and clean bandages allows Hadar to perform basic first aid.

Bio
Born with nothing, Hadar was the only son of a small merchant family- spice traders caught on the wrong side of a raw deal, robbed, stabbed, and left for dead. A young Hadar was found and picked up by Tarlach Reyd, the head of a small mercenary company known as the Ironborn Free Company. Though picking up Hadar was an act of mercy, living with a mercenary company wasn't a free ride. even from a young age, Hadar was expected to earn his keep. As a child, that meant serving food, running messages, cleaning up muck. As he got older, those roles shifted to helping mercenaries don and prepare their weapons and equipment, and running arrows across the battlefield delivering arrows to archers. It was around this time, Hadar began his training as a soon to be warrior of the company.

Showing considerable promise as a warrior, Hadar proved to be quite confident with a blade, sporting both the strength and quick adoption of technical skills to make him a promising swordsman. When he turned 17, he joined the ranks of the Ironborn Free Company as a full fledged soldier, rather than a lackey. He fought alongside his stepfather, Tarlach Reyd for several years, and would eventually be considered one of the finest warriors in the company. Eventually however, the Ironborn Free Company's luck would run out.

During an job given to them by the Six Ladies, the Ironborn Free Company was ambushed and slain to a man, Hadar Reyd was gravely wounded and left for dead for the second time in his life. Hadar managed to half limp, half crawl his way back to civilization, and after some time to recover, set off on his own. For the last few years he's taken on the role of a sellsword, facing down man and monster alike- all for the right price.

Spiritum - Reborn

“I much prefer the sound of a bar or lounge myself,” Galahad chimed in, as the others discussed what they should do after the war went and finished. It was an entertaining thought, the idea of the war ending- and provided they won, neither of which sounded very plausible in the near future. Galahad wondered how many of them would actually return from the war. Gideon surely, the man was a survivor, and even if he didn’t want it, Rassvet would spend a large amount of resources to rescue him if he ever was captured or lost. Lee too would likely survive. A bit of a wallflower, the ones that fade into the background always make it back- that or die in an unmarked grave. But Setzer? The man was strong no doubt, but he had the tact of a wall. Galahad himself was a bit of a target, son of a general and all, and Zimmy was an infiltrator, and often ran the highest risk of them all. The list went on.

“I could see myself behind a bar,” Galahad continued, forcing the darker thoughts into a different part of his brain and compartmentalizing it, locking it away to deal with later. “Cocktail recipes can’t be any harder to memorize than spell formulae.” he added with a snap of his fingers, a small magical spark popping at the tip of his fingers- popping the cap off a bottle of beer in his hand to emphasize his point.

“And on the thought of gambling,” Galahad continued, nodding towards Zimmy, “I don’t see anything wrong with the idea of us winning- the house always wins after all.”

The conversation died down a bit as they saw the Marshalls. They’d all notice them appear, though Galahad chose not to give them a vague passing glance. Galahad and Gideon stood up at the same time, though Galahad relented and allowed Gideon to step up as he waved the rest of them down. Galahad contented himself to watch them with mild disinterest, sipping from his beer with feigned indifference. They weren’t doing anything illegal- well aside from Zimmy anyway, and he doubted the Marshalls cared enough to shut down their little party. Worse comes to worse, they’d just go into one of the rooms and tune out the sounds like they always did.

It was about when the Marshalls had finished their check up did Galahad notice the fireball peeking out of the clouds above. It wasn’t too hard to miss, there was a dull roar from the sound of the fire moving through the sky- and it was pretty fucking big.

It was also rather close too.

As the fireball fell out of the clouds above, the members of Barghast squad could clearly see that it was not a magical fireball or meteor, but rather an airship falling out of the sky. The airship was huge- bigger than any Rassvet warship. The colors of the ship were hard to make out- as everything was painted orange and grey by its trailing fire and smoke, but it certainly seemed like a civilian liner rather than a warship, if its smooth shapes and angles, and large, probably white balloon was any indication. That being said, it was rather hard to see the entire silhouette of the ship, as its sides appeared to have been peppered with holes- likely of the cannon variety- and belched fire and smoke.

Passing overhead, Galahad craned his neck as he watched the massive airship continue its fiery arc across the sky, pieces of wreckage, debris, and even a few parachutes broke away from it. Galahad winced internally as he saw a few of said parachutes collapse- as shrapnel and debris punched holes in them or crushed them. The airship was rapidly losing altitude and continued to shed large chunks of itself before it smashed into the badlands several miles from them.

They could still see the glow of the fire and smoke from behind the craggy rocks and hills- which glowed brighter for a moment before the ground rumbled and a explosion erupted from the location of the wreckage, sending more wreckage flying as the ship’s Mist Reactor went critical and failed.

“That doesn’t look like one of ours.” Galahad commented as he pulled out his phone, his brow furrowing as he noticed that there was no signal- not even emergency lines. The radiating mist from the explosion was probably fucking with their signal- that, or something particularly sinister was afoot.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

So... We're not fighting the giant angels..? :c

Spiritum - Reborn

“Don't believe any of Lori’s cuddling propaganda! She’ll steal your blanket and kick you in your sleep.” Setzer called back towards the bed with a shit-eating grin.

The large quantities of faux-vitriol being slung at him seemingly having little effect on his demeanor. In fact, the comments on his driving seemed only to spur him on further. The wheels of the truck finding purchase in every pothole across the worn and neglected stretch of highway, sometimes going as far as swerving into the opposite lane just to hit his mark. The old pickup bore its undeserved punishment with little more than a whine; the sounds of bouncing bottles and the disgruntled passengers filling the air. Setzer following the road as it sloped upward towards the hill and the rest stop that Galahad had pointed out previously, an old paint-chipped sign welcoming them to sunny Sappl Springs.

“Yeah, you wind up on the edge of a bed with a corner of the blanket. It’s like trying to sleep with a cat on the bed,” Gideon added from his experience; the raw emotional wounds from his foray into serious romance, of course, were there but these folks all knew the details. As terrible an idea as letters were, he sent one from the Citadel to her with his graduation WARDEN tab, but it was a salutary gesture to say that he could live with the regrets. He hoped it helped rather than hurt.

Anticipating arrival; as the sun moved up, Gideon decided it was going to be a short-sleeves sort of day as solar power burned off the last of the overnight chill. He busied himself with packing away his smock and the fleece, and went with white shirt-sleeves underneath the pack that he hefted onto his shoulders. The hat stayed on, as it was thin merino wool, as did a pair of sunglasses that came out when the heat lamp up above them all really came on.

It was actually good tradecraft, as Gideon wasn’t easy to identify to someone that might know him by sight without really knowing him, though there was a tattoo that gave him away, for people that did know him; a Barghest on his forearm, something they almost literally got on the second or third tattoo shop away from the Citadel, mostly because the first place managed to misspell “Regrets” as “Ragrets” on one of the ‘prior work’ pictures in their catalog. It was Zimmy that insisted, with uncharacteristic sobriety, a much better shop that was less used to WARDEN traffic. Tattoo/piercing parlor next to a bike shop, so the clientele was rough.

Which was where Gideon acquired his awesome new wolf-head belt buckle in blued steel. He didn’t usually go for jewelry, but he liked that place. It put the idea of eventually getting a motorbike; they had salaries as Wardens now, as even Wardens didn’t work for free. This countryside would be badass on a bike. Once things were settled, he sat back once more and took a long glance around the countryside and the town they were pulling into. The constant weighing and measuring was a part of him, even if this was a vacation.

By the loosest definition of the term, one could barely consider Sappl Springs a town anymore. It once was a prospector’s town, but nobody tried to make it more than that, so when the Levistone ran dry its was only a matter of time till folks went looking for greener pastures. In their place abandoned machines, houses, and other refuse remained, a distitue collection splayed atop a small crest in the topography that juts outward from the otherwise flat countryside like a sore. Along the old main street clings the last few stubborn remnants of life: a cramped looking Marshall's office, the rare and peculiar type of dive-bar that could only be found in the middle of nowhere, a combination convenience store and gas station, and rustic two storied motel called the Cloudgazer, if the sputtering neon sign mounted to the roof was to be believed. A small but persistent ecology thriving upon the slow yet ever constant trickle of vehicles down the High Road.

The pickup broke the solemn air as it crested the hill roaring with life: music still blaring, wheels scraping against gravel, inebriated voices unfit to communicate in hushed tones, and the grumble and groan of an engine running on fumes. Puttering to a stop underneath the too-bright glow of the LED lined canopy of the gas station. The engine give a sputtered sigh of relief as Setzer turned the key. The fatigue of driving since the break of dawn just now beginning to tug at the hypothalamus.

It would appear that the WARDENs were the only traffic that had come through the town that day, though no one bothered stepping out of their respective buildings to welcome the travelers.

“Well I'll be” he muttered aloud, stifling a yawn “we actually made it.”

“Yeah, and it's your turn to pay for gas.” Galahad replied pointedly as he opened the passenger side door and hopped out. His stomach took on a warm feeling as he took another swig of the whiskey in his flask. The whiskey was a personal supply from a cask of the Quaid family brewery- his father fancied himself a whiskey snob, and bought a orchard and brewery midway through his military career. If he ended up getting maimed in the war, he could always retire and be a brewer, Galahad figured.

He tossed the flask of honeyed whiskey towards Setzer: among their merry little band, Setzer was one of the few who appreciated the taste rather than just guzzling everything down. Granted, Setzer also enjoyed guzzling everything down.

“I’ll go grab the motel rooms.”

“Holy shit, we survived,” Gideon called to Setzer. It was all in good fun, he’d actually gotten a kick out of the ride, the sunshine and the smell of pretty pure air. This place hadn’t had industry around in a while, and it had its charms for a guy like Gideon that actually liked being away from civilization’s dubious charms.

“Y’all can keep on throw your hurtful words around” Setzer replied with a smirk on his face as he exited the truck, making his way over to the other side to fuel it up. He stopped to pick a discarded beer can from the truck bed tossing it into a nearby trash can. “doesn’t change the fact that I can pummel you all so hard that by the time you wake up the war would be over. Actually... that’s a plan leaves more fun for me to deal with!”

Gideon climbed over the side of the truck, gave a long stretch to unkink his muscles, and then hauled his pack along over, an automatic motion of cinching straps in and settling it into place from long experience of just how to adjust a pack so it could sit all day. They all had shoulders from humping rucks, and this was just a much smaller forty-liter job. Miniscule, weight-wise, but loaded down with the necessaries.

“Nice view,” he told Lee, and that was actually Gideon looking past the buildings and onto the countryside. There were hills in the distance, and that looked like a good prospect for camping and hiking, if they brought enough water along for it. But the consensus was a night on mattresses that weren’t rolled up, “and I bet the air is perfect at night. I’m gonna just roll out my stuff here in the truck and enjoy those stars tonight. No sense in screwing with some smelly motel when it’s this glorious.” That took him out of the room equation, evening up the sleeping arrangements. That was Gideon all over again, he relished the outdoors. He wasn’t the most outwardly spiritual person in Barghest Squad, in the sense of meditating and praying, but he seemed to always charge his batteries when he was out roughing it.

“If we catch any snakes, you know how to cook ‘em, right Country?” Running gag. Gideon was just as good with cooking a snake as Lee might have been. Ten years of, improbably, rooming together meant that there were no new jokes.”

“Might as well take the roof,” Galahad called out to Gideon- pointing at the flat roof of the motel, “I bet the view is better than the truck’s.” He was walking back to the truck, left hand shoved firmly in his pocket, right hand holding a ring of keys.

“Not a bad idea,” Gideon agreed.

---

The Cloudgazer, witnessing its first bit of business in weeks probably, opened up most of the floor for them- a trio of two bed flats, all next door to each other, though the Barghest squad had set up most of their kit in the empty parking lot, with a small portable fire pit, and a collection of collapsible stools, beer cases of varying fullness, and the nearby steps for seating areas.

Galahad was sat on top of the truck bed, his legs dangling by the side of the truck, a radio sitting in his lap, adjusting the old dials.

"....And welcome back listeners to RBC and our continued coverage of the Vangar Conflict. There was hard fighting around the border town of Calty today between Vangar and Rassvet forces in the current push to secure Fort Kelgrav and after several hours of fighting our brave soldiers had to make a tactical retreat. On the coastal front a supply carrier was sunk today in the Ragnar Bay by a Vangar Submarine. And in more hopeful news Imperial Princess Colette Van Skymning, the youngest daughter of Emperor Mazurek Van Skymning ruler of Vangar arrives in Orestia tomorrow as part of the peace delegation. More on those talks within the hou-"

“That’s quite enough of that.” Galahad said aloud, more to himself, as the dial changed, switching from the Royal Broadcast Corporation to a more upbeat station playing rock music.Galahad’s sentiments weren’t new or uncommon- many, especially within the WARDENs, were rather skeptical about the idea of these peace talks having any particular effect, especially when up against a nation such as Vangar. As Setzer had so eloquently put it: Peace was a hard thing to work out when one country wanted complete and utter dominion over the other.

The Long Night | Medieval Fantasy

Emil snorted, masking it as a cough, Tork scoffed unreservedly. Suppressing his incredulous chuckling as best he could. This man, Tristan Baske, of all people, wanted to leave Vauclase and head north? The Bastard of Vauclase, known only for his drunken misadventures and causing trouble with the guard, actually wanted to leave the relative safety of Vauclase for certain death up north?

"Surely you jest," Emil replied incredulously, Where in Soquin would you go, how much do you think you can accomplish on your own?" pausing, Emil leaned forward a bit, sniffing curiously. Are... Are you drunk, Tristan?"

"Furthermore, I find it hard to believe you have such noble intentions- if you did, why not just ask for help? Why come to my family Aviary in the night to steal our prized Stryxes?"

By this point in time, the broodmother Tristan had tried to take with him had turned around and returned to its den, though Greytail remained, its angry eyes locked on Tristan.

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

Zaheed glanced at a few of the others while they waited underneath the tarp. It was silent- as usual, they were always quiet right before the fight, a sort of meditation before they got stuck in deep. The adrenaline fueled dark humor would follow after they'd finish the raid. He lifted his blaster rifle and peered down the optic, a force of habit more than anything- he'd gotten comfortable to the point that he could point and shoot without fully needing the optic for anything within close to medium range. His burnished orange and olive armor rustled slightly as he put his hand on a pouch at his side, adjusting the explosive payload safely carried within. He did a quick mental count of how much he had and where it all was.

The speeder slowed down as they neared their position. Kast shifted from his seat, and moved into a slight crouch. As soon as the tarp flew off, he and his brothers were out, jetpacks flaring in unison as four warriors of fables bust into the courtyard. He landed and rolled, and before he was on his feet, his blaster was already firing. Around him, blaster bolts whizzed, and his visor was peppered with the occasional bits of dirt and stonework as grenades exploded in their vicinity. On the ground, Kast acted on instinct. Whenever he saw white plastoid, he fired once, then thrice. As far as he was concerned, anyone without a mando helmet was not a friendly.

Following his squad-brothers, Kast brought up the rear of their formation, his legs pumping as he jumped backwards steps at a time, keeping up pace with his sprinting brothers. He didn't pay attention to the nav-points on his HUD, paving the way to their objective was Roak's job, he spent his time focusing on flank and rear security, his head constantly jerking left right and center at the closest sign of movement, pointing his blaster and firing if they carried a weapon, and barking at them to leave if they were unarmed.

Javi complained about the noncoms running around, and suggested laying mines to deter imperials, while Roak suggested against it, reminding them that there were innocents about them too. Kast shook his head. "Roak's right, too many noncoms in the area, might end up blowing their legs off instead of Imps. Keep pushing forward, I'll deal with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kast spotted a stormtrooper emerging from a hidden corner to fire on the backs of his squadmates. Hell, if it weren't for the bright white plastoids, Kast might not have spotted him until it was too late. Kast skittered to the side as the blaster bolt glanced off the ground he just stood on, before sticking his arm out and letting loose a gout of flame from one of his flame projectors. He was rewarded for his efforts with the sound of a blaster dropping to the floor, and a imp screaming and flailing at his body before falling down.

Following his squad into a corridor, Kast paused and grabbed at a spare fuel canister at his belt and released the nozel, allowing the fuel to cover the floor behind them. Following his squad down the corridor, Kast shout a jet of flame from his projector and set alight the entrance to the corridor- it probably wouldn't stop any particularly determined imperial forces, but no one would want to follow them through the flames if at all necessary.

With their rear secured, Kast returned his attention to the front, and followed his brothers through the palace and towards their objective

Tales of the Crimson Legion - Galaxy at War

Tentative interest as well