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7 mos ago
Current Chairman Nao preaches the eternal truth. Glory to Chairman Nao!
1 like
7 mos ago
Yes you did but where I come from, your wife is all our wife
1 like
7 mos ago
Actually virgin it's benis lol
11 mos ago
Oh quit being such a joyless sob. And respond to my 1x1 DMs, dammit. you really complain that nobody wants your 1x1s and you ignore me. harry potter and the audacity of this bitch, ya'll
22 likes
11 mos ago
Vrei să pleci, dar nu mă, nu mă iei Nu mă, nu mă iei, nu mă, nu mă, nu mă iei
3 likes

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Here you go.
Do let me know if there are any issues.



I gotta wonder how comfortable that axe-stock rifle is...but aside from that, it looks good from where i'm sitting!

Maybe OOC you could tell me why his family came on over though?


"A stranger? Here? In Hōnshu-kuo? You've chosen a terrible time to come here."

"These are dangerous days...the Crimslings roam the Wilds -- That is their kingdom, and They rule it as if They are kings..."

"And what goes out to the Wilds nary come back -- and those that do...They are terrible things."

"Go, now."

"If the Beasts will not take you, the Kanbu will."



The world has become a small place -- so intimate, and all the more terrifying. What remains of mankind huddles together, scattered in the Arks: Entrenched hovels, platformed acropoli -- massive stakes of steel and concrete which pierce into the veins of the Earth. Each Ark is a colossal continuum of underground metropolis upon sprawling slum upon industrial park hath seen it blossom into a spoiled metallic onion. They are the collections of days long past, each one cradling the people of the world.

This is Honshu. It is known by many names -- to it's colonial overlords, past and progeny, it is Hâncheau, The Pearl of the East, and Dominion to Ardagne: Le Régime Éclairé. To those who have lived and toiled their blood away until they fainted white, it is Hōnshu-kuo. On their maps, The Dominion is a single entity: Honshu, in truth, was -- and still is -- a country of systemic irregularities: Administrative, legal, judicial, and ecclesiastic divisions and prerogatives frequently overlapped, while the Ardic nobility struggled to maintain their rights in the matters of local government and justice. All the while, the Samurai clans of Honshu met their fate, either as gravestones or as eager collaborators to the Régime Noveau.

But even this is but a tenuous connection: With The Fray receded, the powers which stay standing squabble over the remnants. Mayors and chieftains, like bickering children, argue over the responsibilities -- who shall re-tether the elektralines, who shall give the most men to scout the wilds, who shall fire their furnaces and forges the longest, who shall contribute the more food-stock: And who shall receive the lions share. Alliances formed in the fires of battle have grown brittle and cold, and the relations that kept the Dominion through peril for centuries is now poised to crumble at the seams. The Arks are all beset by bickering from within and beasts from without.

Now, it is a kingdom with no monarch -- a colony with no overlord. It is a confused and broken land, its image and identity long shattered and dusted to the winds of time which ground it all to grain in the sands of time.

The task before the good Hunters, banded in blood in their Kanbu, remains as steadfast as it was at its inception, even amidst this tumult.

The Crimson Tide must be stopped. The beasts within it felled, their bodies burned and scattered to the winds. Scientific samples collected. Fields and forests razed to contain its flow. And from this broken mirror, its pieces scattered before this ancient Earth, do what you must to gather the pieces, scraping them into some semblance of a whole, before the will to do so fades.




Character Sheet:





She stood over the finale of this escapade with a hunch -- it was the best her posture would do, for every time she attempted a straighter posture did Katerina feel as though there was somehow a more supermassive weight thrust unto her body. The beast, seared and incinerated its brown feathers to a soot-coal black, lay on its side along the moonlit ruddy Earth. Pigment of dying flames, cast off from the smoldering cinders before them, dashed specks of luminescence, caught in the feathers-gaps. With every heaving, slow breath the griffon made, its embers - latched on like scorching leeches - ignited a dying little flame from which its scorching wound burrowed itself deeper with every fading breath.

Katerina wanted to do something. Something. A gorgeous animal before her dying by her own hand, after an epic battle, where the Witch-Knight burned a whole fortress-side to cinders. And now here she was, wanting to help. Her wants were cut with a perfect gesture, more perfect than Serenity's throw. The hatchet whistled along its whirling path, the head spiraling in little orange circles like a spinning fire cantrip. Nothing escaped her. Not even a grimace or cringe. Hatred, grief, and acceptance, all in only a few minutes.

She barely held herself up: Katerina felt exhausted, stiff in mind, like a haze set into her mind and barely, iratingly, maddeningly seeped from a crack in the back of her head that just felt like even rupturing her skull wide open would be a welcome relief. Her muscles felt quaked, ripping and searing; Her robes, more than a little singed. Even a modest pack the likes of her worn to battle felt like a whole person clawing atop her, kicking, heaving, shoving, tearing her down until the half-elf would force to crawl from the weight of her own exhaustion.

The Witch-Knight -- oh...how she hated that name...and how many times she would have to hear it, and see it, and speak it, and know that that is the title by which she is and will be...

That Witch-Knight had seen and felt and done all of these things, these terrible things, and with nary some strength inside her, clawed out a secret reserve, like she always had: Like her wells of energy she plucked within her like cigarettes from her case...and spoke softly to Serenity:

"Aye." She made out. Katerina paused. The Witch-Dame didn't bother to look Serenity in the eye. "Good kill."

Her voice was beat, soft. Like she was holding back tears; Proud, painful tears, in a cracked slipping voice that constrained within her every last bit of strength in and out of that woman would do anything not to confess just this weakness. Not a comrade. Not to a friend. To none. Not even if she were to know it herself.

Katerina made one final, exhausted mental note: She'd need to go see her Regular after this.
@Kazemitsu Sure is! I think about 8 or 10 will be my cap, depending on how much more interest we get.
Since there's a decent number of you here now, here's a discord link!

@Dragonfly 9 @Haha@Vertigo @Searat @Skwint @PigeonOfAstora
Looks like there's some solid interest so far! I have midterms today, so i'll give it another day to garner some more interest -- expect an OOC thread to go up Saturday.

"A stranger? Here? In Hōnshu-kuo? You've chosen a terrible time to come here."

"These are dangerous days...the Crimslings roam the Wilds -- That is their kingdom, and They rule it as if They are kings..."

"And what goes out to the Wilds nary come back -- and those that do...They are terrible things."

"Go, now."

"If the Beasts will not take you, the Kanbu will."



The world has become a small place -- so intimate, and all the more terrifying. What remains of mankind huddles together, scattered in the Arks: Entrenched hovels, platformed acropoli -- massive stakes of steel and concrete which pierce into the veins of the Earth. Each Ark is a colossal continuum of underground metropolis upon sprawling slum upon industrial park hath seen it blossom into a spoiled metallic onion. They are the collections of days long past, each one cradling the people of the world.

This is Honshu. It is known by many names -- to it's colonial overlords, past and progeny, it is Hâncheau, The Pearl of the East, and Dominion to Ardagne: Le Régime Éclairé. To those who have lived and toiled their blood away until they fainted white, it is Hōnshu-kuo. On their maps, The Dominion is a single entity: Honshu, in truth, was -- and still is -- a country of systemic irregularities: Administrative, legal, judicial, and ecclesiastic divisions and prerogatives frequently overlapped, while the Ardic nobility struggled to maintain their rights in the matters of local government and justice. All the while, the Samurai clans of Honshu met their fate, either as gravestones or as eager collaborators to the Régime Noveau.

But even this is but a tenuous connection: With The Fray receded, the powers which stay standing squabble over the remnants. Mayors and chieftains, like bickering children, argue over the responsibilities -- who shall re-tether the elektralines, who shall give the most men to scout the wilds, who shall fire their furnaces and forges the longest, who shall contribute the more food-stock: And who shall receive the lions share. Alliances formed in the fires of battle have grown brittle and cold, and the relations that kept the Dominion through peril for centuries is now poised to crumble at the seams. The Arks are all beset by bickering from within and beasts from without.

Now, it is a kingdom with no monarch -- a colony with no overlord. It is a confused and broken land, its image and identity long shattered and dusted to the winds of time which ground it all to grain in the sands of time.

The task before the good Hunters, banded in blood in their Kanbu, remains as steadfast as it was at its inception, even amidst this tumult.

The Crimson Tide must be stopped. The beasts within it felled, their bodies burned and scattered to the winds. Scientific samples collected. Fields and forests razed to contain its flow. And from this broken mirror, its pieces scattered before this ancient Earth, do what you must to gather the pieces, scraping them into some semblance of a whole, before the will to do so fades.



So what's this about needing a GM?
I'm going to be honest. I'm a really busy guy -- I got college, rugby, and work to deal with. This idea itself was based off of another earlier RP idea with a similar premise that didn't get far because of the same thing. I think it'd really work best if there was someone else to really help take the reins, ideally several other people who are as really into it as everyone else in the group is!

What is this RP about?
In this Late Fantasy world, there was once ago a grave threat from a mysterious force that humans could only sense as a thick, crimson mist. The Tide transformed men and creatures into terrible, twisted beasts, and wrought terrible carnage upon the world. Only with the great efforts of The Hunters did the tide of the miasma stem, but the two have fought one another to a vicious and brutal standstill. As one of the hunters, you must fight the monsters when they appear, and find more information about where they come from and most effective ways to rid of them.

What are hunters and kanbu? What do they do?
From ragtag, raggedy militiamen to professional scientists and accomplished fighters, hunters are a motley bunch. In the most open-ended sense of the word, kanbu are any organized band assembled (ostensibly) to take on the threat of the Crimson Tide. Kanbu vary greatly in organization, discipline, equipment, and size.

Kanbu are -- for better or worse -- closely intertwined with the politicking that goes on within the Arks. Often employed by large merchants and influential aristocrats to protect their property and allies, Kanbu take after their samurai clan ancestors, operating somewhere between law enforcement and gangs-for-hire. Vicious rivalries exist between Kanbu and their various allies, often escalating into threats, arson, and open violence.

Where will the RP take place? What's the setting?
The RP will take place in the Dominion of Hâncheau (Honshu or Hōnshu-kuo), mostly containing the Ark of Sainte-Azélie (Honshu: Ayahara).

The setting is Middle-High Fantasy -- somewhere between the lines of steampunk and urban fantasy, with generous dashes of noir. Think something sort of similar to Yharnam, or Ghibli films even. Check out some more in the lore tabs if you want more specific examples.

Is the focus of the RP more on combat or the characters?
I'd like to think that we would have a seamless mix between the two. Ideally, I would enjoy something close to a 60/40 mix from Characters:Combat, as the tonal themes I was drawing inspiration from here were mostly noir horror and various dark fantasy anime such as Claymore and Attack on Titan. If you really want, you can think of it as RWBY, but like, not written by two inexperienced nerds who ship their self-inserts with their 17 year old OCs!

Will there be a Discord?
discord.gg/FfRT7aajvE


With: @PigeonOfAstora @Psychic Loser @Saiyan @Rune_Alchemist

As she lowered her hands and dropped her gesture, the Witch-Knight slumped forwards, stammering as she barely caught herself as the whole weight of her body -- armour and all. The incendiary delight above her lightened, turning forth into a swirl of embers almost with Cecilia's apt words cutting the maelstrom to a marisque tourbillion. Embers hummed around her in a dervicious dance, each passing rotation amplifying the exhausted demeanour to the half-elven dame. Katerina clearly grew visibly fatigued from the battle, growing into panting chants as she maintained her magics, the cyclone and her allies' ward. She held an instinctive, uttering hymn to her swaying movements, even as she was about to collapse, route and pressed into her mind.

"Eh? That's a bit too much fire don't ya think, Katerina!?"

And finally, as the words from Cecilia's comments registered unto her, her cigarette dropped from her mouth. A dead, heavy croak from Katerina beckoned her answer:

"No -- Not hardly."

She dipped into a lower position, scanning around the battlefield before her -- every gale-winded pass the mighty griffon made brazened a heat wave unto her back and front, drenching her in blankets of dust and sweat like blasts from the desert winds. The Lady could feel the embers sear into her back with every rancorous pass and daring dive. But, there were some larger affairs at play than whatever were to come of their two-pronged threats. Her friends would need much more than just her, as well.

Her heels dug into the dark earth before her, dropping into a heavy incantation. The embers which surrounded her joined to her cantar, growing in their dance as they conjoined and converged to her instruction. With a heavy wave of her arm, a blanket of molten flame blanketed above them, a drape of fire covering over their heads like a great tarp over a firetrap. And with any hope, blast the damnable beast into little more than a well-seared dinner worthy of the post-battle feast.

@ERode @PigeonOfAstora

She had just gotten done folding up her cigarette container -- Katerina didn't even have time to shake her head in disapproval. Hurriedly, she moved alongside the forward advance: Serenity, Lein, and their little motley crew, cigarette alight as she made her way forth.

"Ugh, bloody fuck!" the witch-knight groaned, half-mumbling her words. Puffs of smoke fumed with frustration out of every word. "Cannae fetch up a bloody plan before we go an' storm tae' bloody castle?!"

Her ears perked up at Lein and Serenity's regards, calling for just her specialty. With two armoured fingers, Katerina plucked her cigarette from her mouth, resting it in the in-between of tranquility and fire -- elegance and burnt ends. The sorceress nodded back to her compatriot, dropping into a wider stance.

"Aye. I ken i'm able."

A motley crowd of adversaries littered the palisades before her. Cecilia and the entire whole lot of them had already been doing numbers on them, breaking them apart -- but they had will to them. Discipline, too, to boot. As Katerina begun her incendiary hymn, the faint fume of the cigarette ignited to life, then from that smoldering effluvium roared into a blaze. It grew in size, with every passage and hypnotic word, the fireball held in Katerina's hand roared larger and higher, swirling in size, spiraling into a vortex as flame enveloped her. The poor souls in front of her saw the firestorm in conjuration -- the wisest of the lot broke from their formation, scattering to the sides as they dove and flung themselves out of the way. The lesser of the pack stood with their shields up, propping together something resembling a phalanx defence.

Katerina delivered one last chanson -- and the firestorm rushed from her hands unto the front. A controlled pillar of fire burst the ranks and beams before them, smelting them all into a homogeneous pyrolithic smog. The entrance made little time wasting itself away before the inferno, melting away to an entrance usable by her allies. Katerina seemed steady to control the great conflagration, consciously controlling every swirl and fire-gale from the twitches of her fingertips like the conductor of an orchestra. Her fiery sonatra raised itself carefully above, allowing her friends and allies entrance -- from her unflinchingly uncomfortable expression, Katerina urged them all to move quickly, wondering to herself just how long she could maintain this great firestorm.
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