Lord Rokinges
Official Fanfiction Judge
۩ ۩۩ ۩ ۩۩ ۩
RP BY LORD ROKINGES
|☭| | ✝✝✝ | |☭|
Victor limped slowly forward towards the crest. It was his only chance, before the Nightblade stole it. Would he make it? As his fingers reached out, his knee made a groaning, popping noise—the Nightblade turned. Victor cursed inwardly. It was over.
In the squat, dull room, the outside seemed to be normal compared to the rest of the city. If this scene had been displayed in the open, guards would flow down the streets of this city, slaughtering all sides. The only thing abnormal within the second to a small amount of varied people (who heard) was…
The boom.
A sharp crack seemed to emit from the building. What the people who noticed this noise didn’t realize, is that a man inside was… missing his head.
Tʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ 100 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴋʏʀɪᴍ: Eʟᴅᴇʀ Sᴄʀᴏʟʟs. Sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ, ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴄᴜᴘ ᴏғ ᴛᴇᴀ ɪɴ ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ. I ᴀᴍ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ 3 ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʀᴅs (ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ. Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ CC, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ, ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴʀʏ, ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs, ʙᴏᴅɪʟʏ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴛ ᴄᴇᴛᴇʀᴀ. Bᴇʟᴏᴡ ɪs ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴠᴀʀɪᴇᴅ.
Welcome to the beginning roleplay OOC of the based Gears of Crest! This storyline takes place one hundred years after the current events occurring in Skyrim, meaning advances in technology and new landscapes. Since the base takes place in a city that it most likely not familiar to you, because it is a bit more than a fantasy, with slight steampunk-based functions, this may not be your ideal roleplay. If you do not approve of this, please leave and find a new roleplay. If this is confusing, interesting, or seemingly good, continue.
In the story, you are allowed to make up special types of weaponry invented by your type of person. Each person must be a known inventor; meaning this is also known as the age of Ventio, or the age of Inventions. The advanced character card includes the factors listed in light gray at the top, as well as this [just putting all of it]:
Character Card:
Name:
Age:
Birth Date:
Height:
Race:
Appearance:
Birth Sign:
Occupation:
Wealth Status:
Appearance:
Hair:
Eye colour:
Skin Colour:
Build:
Attire:
Personality:
Positive Traits:
Negative Traits:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Aspiration/Goals/Ambitions:
Combat:
Skills (notable):
Weapons:
Description of Fighting style:
Backstory/Background:
Relations to RP:
- Inventions:
- Rich or Poor because of...:
-Popularity:
- Inventor Status {struggling, working on it, flourishing, making something new}:
-family and relations (a nice big tree please):
This may be a bit too detailed, but it shows after you post you card how sophisticated of a writer you are. For example, if you make a character who invented the "Laser gun", that could be considered godmodding and is not accepted. Think about... the 3 shot crossbow, or the gas-lighter (basically a flamethrower, lighter though). Your character can kill other inventors for their ideas, they cannot be other roleplayer though. It is permitted for people to meet within the thread, meaning that you are careful enough to not change their scenario. Keep it all sophisticated and "beautiful", so this can be enjoyed. Readers should want to take sides of inventors.
What your character should have is the ability to be ambitious to become one of the richest men in the city they live in. The lord of the city has no real power, investing his time in war against a deadly plague ravaging the lands all around. There is a wall surrounding the entire city, and weekly, people must wear mask to keep the disease from spreading. What the lord wants is to invent a machine or weapon that can help the effort of the war.
NOTE: GUNS HAVE NOT [and will not] BEEN INVENTED, BUT GUNPOWDER HAS--GRENADES OR BOMBS OF ANY SORT HAVE NOT BEEN INVENTED EITHER. THE WAR IS FOUGHT WITH MEN WITH SWORDS.
No one really seems to know what the plague does to people. They know it must alter the races, because Argonian mercenaries and Nord barbarians are hired to go to war all the time. Some say they go mad and kill anything in their way. Other say a demon is controlling them all. Few say the humans are forced to go cannibalistic because of the disease driving them mad and killing the crops. It is up to you to choose what is happening.
You are allowed to be treacherous, meaning killing other inventors in cold blood just to get the money and fame reward of giving the lord of the city weapons for his army. Just to get supplies, you must leave the city (a dangerous trek) and go to different lands. Many have ventured out, few have returned. Only one man returned (that was not driven man): an old fellow named Ian Victor, widely known inventor.
A part of the city is called the Yard. Also known as the Junkyard, it is where people get most of their supplies; searching in their. The common folk who work daily get food and etc. from the landowners and the lord.
Rules:
1. No cussing without * at the vowels and obvious letters
2. At least 3-4 paragraphs per detailed post
3. Be mature
4. If using magic, make it light magic, no heavy lightening spells
5. No Godmodding, no invincible, no bad grammer
6. No AMAZING inventions on the first post
7. regular rules for roleplaying
8. Colored text for your character is required.
[sexual content in allowed, because the thread will not be 18+, warn reader if sexual content will arrive in your post. Make sure every post of your does not include many innapropriate event, just a few to keep things "lively". It will make the RP more enjoyable for a type of folk.]
The inventor is dead,
the one who ventured,
they know what he said,
where hell is centered,
he said "Do not leave",
for you will see,
who you wish you did not,
death within the trees"
no one knew what he meant,
they thought it as queer,
he slowly became bent,
but had no fear,
all heeded his warning,
but not the desperate,
he would have called them fools,
they would die a death
that old burder,
he was missing his head,
Ian was murdered,
Victor is dead
-found in the apartment of Ian Victor
The inventor
{not written by himself}
STATUS:
OPEN
RECRUITING
for 3 other players
MAIN THREAD:
working on it...
For all who wish to join, good luck!
Death apon the city,
Lord is not here,
the olde Nightblade is bidding,
a shadow of dark and fear,
when will he strike again,
searching for another,
when will that be then,
will he even bother?
oh, ye, yes he will,
he will commit his fill,
for he has invented something,
and oh, it will give you the chill
inventors beware,
alone in the glade,
death is the fare,
against the Nightblade
Tinker, thinker whats your word
Hearing songs from a mechanical bird
You play with your tools and play them for fools
Is it all just a game?
Lack of care for people or fame
Tinker tinker
He's a thinker
What is your thrill?
How many will you kill?
Bits of people
Bits of hell
The Tinkerer can run
and not be fell
Tinker Tinker,
He'll come to you
He will cut you to pieces
and eat you too
Creaking creaking hear the wings
Seeking seeking little things
If you see the Bird up high
Surely you are marked to die
Laughing laughing in the night
. His limping gain is not a pleasant sight
If he finds you, you will see.
What he thinks it means for you to be free...
Barging in like a bull
Hiding is your only tool
To escape the barging fate
You can hear him at the gate
Muscles bulging becoming swollen
You can't breathe around the Golem
If he hears you are dead
slowly coming to crush your head
metal made one eye
flesh for the other
the Golem should be damned
warriors cannot bother
By light of moon, the shadows doom the Tinker's hand to failure
The glint of steel, the hand that wields the Nightblade's vengeance tailored
Within the night, immune to blight, the Golem paints the wall
Alone at last, the Tinker's past has caused his own downfall
SPECIAL THANKS TO CORDELIA AND SKIES
Anni crista
˙ʍou ˙uǝןoʇs uǝǝq sɐɥ ʇsǝɹɔ ǝɥʇ
˙buıɯoɔ sı ˙ןןǝɥ