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RPG: Castles in the Air


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OOC:

Because there is definitely no difference between a random agent that you created that has no guards to a character so important he is listed in the front post and is the main villain of this entire game! Also, what is in the package?

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OOC:

Otto was a just NPC you made up! He didn't even have any guards! Basil has tons of guards, heck, he has an army! There is no comparison between the two! The random agent in my post was Otto! I'll put it in the perspective of an RPG you GM in, the Halo RPG. If I had one of my PCs just go, and kill Jul M'dama, would that be allowed? NO! Basil the Batlord is the Jul M'dama of this game! And what was in that bag?

Edited by Canis Lupus

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OOC: I thought I had just made myself clear. It's Otto's head. Rick wanted to give it to Basil. How did a light bulb not turn on, when I said head. it's that simple, Also I didn't kill Basil, it was at the messenger. If you read in the previous posts, my PC said that he will die if anyone got in the way.

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OOC:

Yeah, a head/ahead jokes don't work when the head in question had not been mentioned for well over a month and the other guy thinks you're talking about his other question.

 

IC: Jack Storm

The messenger fell to the ground with an arrow in his head. Jack opened up the package to see a human head. The one of Otto Lor'ta. Jack shook his head, and went back to guarding Basil. When someone passed, then he would tell them of Otto's death.

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OOC: I'm looking forward to seeing Rick to kill between twelve and twenty guards before blowing up a gate or something. Any character by Flare is like Bruce Willis and Bruce Lee combined. And if they manage to capture Rick, he'll use a needle in a bracelet, a rusty nail from the wall, or one of his chest hairs to pick his locks and throatpunch any guard in his way. Basil the Bat Lord has about as much a chance of winning as that poor bat that met Ozzy on stage. IC - (Bjorn): A troop of soldiers clattered down the King's highway. Most were clad in thick fur pelts over chain mail armour and tunics emblazoned with the blue fire drake of House Milkweed.

 

The head of the column of riders was a veritable giant of a man, mounted on a horse of equally large size. Sir Bjorn Vargsson, the faceless and ferocious giant of Marsokk. As the wind whipped past his great helm, Bjorn inhaled and exhaled slowly. He had been in Watsmaet, delivering tribute to King Lionel from the Warden of the West with an armed escort of two hundred men-at-arms. An unpleasant experience. "Never much cared for big city. Nothing but chamber pots and dress uniforms." The knight turned his head to look at the soldiers of his company, riding along, with extra weapons carried by their wagons. The Vargsson felt his lip curl with disgust. Trolls. At the Dragonsmouth. In boats! An unprecedented, and outrageously daring attack. A welcome one, if only to get the men of the mountains out of the crowded streets and smells of Watsmaet. Not that it really mattered. The troll landing force had put miles between themselves and their nests in the west. By land, or by water, it would be difficult for them to be reinforced.

 

The faint smell of smoke, and the distance crashes of battle rang out, picked up by his keen ears. Most battles were filled with a background of clashing swords and battlecries. Troll battles always sounded different. Especially when they rampaged against inexperienced soldiers. Thuds, the sound of warping metal, splintering wood, snapping bones and the feeble whimpers of the dying.

 

Bjorn's fingers drummed the hilt of his falchion as he and his men rode down the road, cresting onto a hill that overlooked the port city. Smoke rose from the harbour, half-sunk ships smouldering like floating candles. The roar of a troll echoed from the harbour, backed by the throbbing beat of drums. The knight of Marsokk's lips curled into a wolfish grin, concealed by his helm. Fresh meat.

Edited by Madara: Mangekyou Master

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All at once? That's insane! Did he have to stab through his own shoulder with a longsword to take out a mook?Never underestimate Rick Willee's ability to innovate using a bit of charcoal, leftover chamber pot materials, a pinch of sulfur and pure manliness. He's like MacGyver with a license to kill... jk jk

 

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OOC: You could tone down the one-shotting of NPCs? :) Or play off some of the consequences of Rick's actions? Or ask another player to help play the NPCs. Case in point, riding out of a city usually requires passing a gatehouse, with some guards. Lopping the head off one of those guards (when a gatehouse is crawling with his colleagues) on your way out of town, would result in the fastest man-to-pincushion transmutation ever.IC (Bjorn):Bjorn dismounted from his horse, tramping up a series of stone steps. The large knight could feel the gaze of the southern soldiers appraising his form. Not surprising. It wasn't every day that a Milkweed knight made his way to the Dragonsmouth. And it was even rarer for said knight to stand above the height of their spears. Bjorn approached the Lord of the city, stopped, and saluted the younger Caerwyn brother. "Lord Wyvern." The giant extended his gloved hand, revealing a scroll bearing the seal of the king. "Your brother sends his regards, and myself and two hundred soldiers from Marsokk to aid you in your troll problem."

Edited by Madara: Mangekyou Master

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OOC: You're right. Here it is. No edit.

 

IC:

But upon doing so, his horse got shot by an arrow. he fell down and looked around. Eight guards surrounded him. All with swords and some crossbows at hand. "Any one want a truce?" None moved. "Okay then. Have it your way." He got up and sliced on of them in the leg. He got hit int he back with a sword. He grabbed one by the throat, and turned him around where an arrow hit him in the head. He then threw the guards sword at the crossbow guard, killing him. He then got hit with the butt of the bow and fell to the floor.

 

"Get him to the dungeon and make sure he's locked up. He's too dangerous to be let out."

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OOC: I edited the post where I made the mistake, Canis. Sorry that I wasn't clear about that.

 

IC (Dakxer): Dakxer repeated his story for the magician in front of him. He was worried - he knew some black magic, but not enough for the Ignorance Power he would need to influence a mage. If this being knew black magic, he would know Dakxer was faking, and he would likely lose in a fight.

 

IC(Stacey): "Strangers. From far away, no doubt." A tall horse snorted, facing Stacey. "A small girl with two warriors. A servant girl, ha." said another, circling away. "More than a servant girl, look at his smile."

 

"Um...hello." said Stacey, facing the horses. "I'm going on a journey, and I-I would like one of you to come with me. Which one of you wants to go?"

 

The horses all looked abashed and taken aback by this mode of confrontation, at least as far as Stacey could tell. "Where are you going, little girl?" chided one horse.

 

"Now, now, leave her alone." advised an older female. "She has a gift." The rest of the horses laughed at that.

 

Except for one, who had been eating quietly near the back of the pen. He stepped forward. "You all should be ashamed of yourselves. She may be a young girl, but there is no telling what she may become." He glared at the other horses. "She may become a mighty warrior someday."

 

The rest of the horses laughed, snorting and stamping their hooves. The proud horse ignored them, bowing gently in front of Stacey. He was young, Stacey noticed, and eager for a bit of adventure.

 

Stacey turned to Grimpen, gesturing to the horse. "Him."

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IC: Benjamin Grimpen

Grimpen moved over to the merchant and took out a few gold pieces. He said, "I want to buy that horse.", pointing to the one that Stacey had chosen. The merchant got up, and handed him the reigns. Grimpen went over and gave the reigns to Stacey.

 

IC: Matthew Formigan

The wizard listened to the cloaked figure. He responded, "You are a small group of wanderers looking for shelter? Come on in." Matt opened up the doors to let Dakxer and his group inside the gates, clutching his staff, on high alert.

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IC (Dakxer): "Thank you." Dakxer said. "Do you know of an inn we can stay at for the night? We're coming off a long ride and could use some rest." I hope this practical concern, which is real, will be enough to get this wizard off my back.

 

IC(Stacey): "Thank you" Stacey said to Grimpen. She carefully patted the horse's neck, and he kneeled so Stacey could climb on. "You okay?" Stacey said to the horse. "Yes, my lady." He stood up, and Stacey paled a bit, uneasy at being so high up. She gripped the reins tightly.

 

"Oh my" said the horse. "Careful, my young friend. You're squeezing quite hard." Stacey realized her legs were very tense. "Sorry." She eased up a bit, and the group started to ride through the town.

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IC: Matthew Formigan

Matt said, "Yeah. Just turn down that corner, walk about a block or so, and it will be on your right."

 

IC: Benjamin Grimpen

The party could now move much faster now that they were all riding horses. Grimpen said to Blake, "I think we will get there this afternoon."

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IC (Theodora)

 

 

"How...interesting. Now tell me, where is this meeting point? Will there be others there?" Theodora leaned in closer, near the mans neck. "Do hurry, I'm getting hungry...."

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: Blake (Riding)

"Indeed, sir! Ah, it's been quite the while since I've been to Falcon's Roost.."

He trails off, lapsing into memory with a small smile. The minstrel eventually turns to Grimpen again, although his comment is directed at both of the other riders.

"Say, would anyone mind a traveling song?"

Zakaro

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IC: Willem barely glanced at the scroll, seeming to trust in the seal and its carrier.

 

"Marsokk men. Excellent! Strong shields, strong swords and stronger arms to use them!" He glanced at Jakkl, and stroked at his fire-red moustache, "Yes, I think I can use you..."

 

 

 

IC: "Old barn!" the bandit groaned, "Abandoned after the old farmer died! Should be about a dozen of us there!"

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IC (Theodora)

 

"You have my thanks." Then, quicker then the blink of an eye, she'd buried her fangs in the unfortunate bandits neck. She felt the thirst she had been experiencing for the past few days recede as the crimson stuff of life spilled into her mouth. The bandit twitched once, twice, as more and more of his blood was drained. Then, finally, he endured a final spasm and died. Blood still dripping from her mouth, Theodora pulled her dagger from the motionless bandit and allowed his body to slump to the ground. She had the location of a bandit clan....it was time for some civic service.

Edited by Basilisk

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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OOC: New profile

 

Name: Beth AkinaGender: FemaleAppearance: Beth is an extremely attractive young woman, with wavy blonde hair normally hanging loose, laughing blue eyes, and a curvy body. Her armor fits her 5'6" frame exceedingly well, providing maximum maneuverability. When in bee form, any bee currently under her control has a slight bluish tint.Personality: Beth is a happy person, though being inside, particularly in the dark, cuts down on it a lot.Alliegance: None, though she has a certain distaste for Lord Basil.Weaponry: Two short swords, kept at her waist. They're the only weapons she can really take with her when she changes forms, being as they're made out of an extremely hard organic compound. Same with her armor. It's made of a thick layer of chitin instead of metal. The armor is brownish with green lines in some places.Additional Powers: Beth can shatter into a swarm of bees, much like some vampires can shatter into bats. She can take any organic object she's touching with her into this form, though other living animals are exempt. It works by taking her physical body and anything she wants to take with her into a pocket dimension, then replacing their mass with bees. Killing the bees causes her pain, and she must heal by finding more. She can shatter organic objects into bees without going with them, though she loses control of the swarm until the time comes to change it back.Skills: Beth is exceedingly good at focusing on multiple things, a result of having to control thousands of little minds at the same time. She's good with a sword, and is often far more at home in nature than some of the most experienced rangers.Biography: Beth's parents made a deal with a witch for good crops when she was at the age of 14, not realizing that it would require their only daughter go to her as an apprentice. After a few years of working for the witch, Beth tried to escape. Angry, the spellcaster turned her into a swarm of bees, not realizing that the girl's internal magic would allow her to control the swarm and turn back into a human.

 

Approved via PC.

Edited by Kaitholas Cage

No such thing as destiny.

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IC: While the knights from Marsokk under Bjorn had received a cheery welcome from the defenders of Darkharbour, the following column did not. Their shields were broad, the device upon them black of skin and red of eye. Their crested helmets bore horns of all kinds, some forged into the design, some simply tied there after being taken from animals. Their armour looked beaten, battered and scuffed but was still holding, which suggested it was rather more durable than first appearance would imply. They got dark looks and angry mutters following them as they marched into the city, steps falling in perfect synchronicity.

 

"You hired the Black Bulls?" Jakkl asked, mouth twisting in distaste. The Bulls were known for their brand of efficient ruthlessness, not for mercy of empathy. Pay them to defend a village from bandits and they'd hunt the bandits camp down and slaughter all they found. Pay them to punish a farmstead for whatever reason and they'd burn it to ash and tear up the foundations. They were not noble or loyal or just, and while Albion wasn't brimming over with knights that were all three of those the Bulls were an easy scapegoat and dark mirror of the worst qualities of soldiers.

 

"I hired the Bulls," the Lord Wyvern confirmed, "Now if you would, stop clucking and go find that Black woman. Meredith, I think. I'll be needing her too. Now, you-" He quickly checked the parchment Bjorn had brought with him, "Vargsson. I assume you got to bring the message because you're a capable leader and not just the only man who can read?"

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IC: Meredith Black

The female assassin stood on top of a building with the other members of her team. The other warriors were planning to down another ship using flaming shots from the ballista that they had mounted on a roof close to the bay.

 

Then, coming from the street came a voice. A man was asking if anyone had seen a Meredith Black. He had been sent to find her by Lord Wyvern, who was leading the battle against the trolls that were attacking Darkharbour.

 

Meredith looked at her comrades, and ran down the stairs. She tried to keep her identity secret, and wasn't sure how someone had found out she was here, much less killed trolls, but nevertheless, she obeyed the call that had been sent for her.

 

She arrived at the building where Lord Wyvern was and entered it. She said, "I am Meredith Black, sir. I believe you sent out a messenger to find me. May I ask how you deduced my identity as an assassin of trolls?"

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IC:

Kraven prepared the meat for the band of Wolves that was in the barn. A few boar and deer meat were cooking outside near the door way of the barn doors. The men were getting impatient as hunger struct them.

 

He delivered the boars and deer to them, setting it on the center of the pack. They started munching away at the pork and deer like animals. He got himself one of the boar's leg and started munching on it. He went back outside to cover up the rest of the dead meat that will be cooked later on.

 

He felt a strange aura on him. As if something wasn't right. Their captain had not returned from his mission, and he usually makes it in time for the meal.

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OOC:

 

Name: Abraham Cross

Gender: Male

Appearance: Abraham is remarkably tall, standing at approximately six foot seven, with a muscled body tone. Not overtly so, like some warriors, but if one pays careful enough attention his skill is betrayed by the graceful ease with which he takes each step, and swift reaction times. Black hair of medium length crowns his head, rarely if ever combed or styled. On the road, there simply isn’t the time. In contrast to this, he remains clean shaven at all times. His eyes are a startling vivid blue, and his gaze has often been likened to that of a hawk, piercing, and all seeing. He is most often clad in leather riding clothes, with a worn brown bag over one shoulder. His horse, Vigilance, is brown in color.

Personality: Abraham is oddly quiet, even for these times. Whenever he shows up in town, he speaks nary a word, only articulating his thoughts often enough to communicate with a shop owner, or guard. As such, few people ever really learn his opinions on things. He has a moral code, a code of honor, that he sticks to quite strictly, but on the surface, it appears to make no sense. He is a combat pragmatist, completely at ease with kicking his opponent when they’re down, but adheres quite strictly to his own standards.

Alliegance: None

Weaponry: On his person, Abraham carries a knife, and a crossbow. See the skills section for the others.

Skills: Abraham’s magic is, unlike most, purely combat oriented. Whether this is by accident or personal choice is unknown. His ability is to form constructs in the real world based on what he envisions. This ability directly drains him for the energy needed to manifest, and it steadily drains him the longer it is kept in existence. These constructs take the form of melee weapons, most often swords, though others are possible. He could, theoretically, create any number of them, as long as he had enough energy. A side effect of their status as artificial constructs is that he can control them by thought, without actually having to touch them, almost like a limited telekinesis. But it takes concentration, and he prefers to use them by hand. While his ability is quite potent, it also relies on how much energy he has expended that day. If one were to fight him when he woke up in the morning, he could summon a veritable arsenal with which to fight. But if you caught him at the end of the day, after a long day of traveling, he would be much more limited.

Biography: Abraham’s past is unknown, and he isn’t telling. No one seems to know him, no matter where you go. No known allies, no known family, no known enemies.

 

 

IC:

"C'mon, Vigilance. Just a bit more."

The rider commented, urging his mount forward. Darkharbour was just a few kilometers ahead, a quite short way to travel, considering how much distance had already been traversed. Even from this distance, he could tell something was wrong.

"Might be a while til we can rest."

OOC: For anyone in the area, he is open for interaction.

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC (Dakxer): Dakxer turned correctly, following the wizard's directions. He kept looking around, watching for traps. Fortunately, there were none, and the inn quickly came into view. It seemed that his companion was acting entirely in goodwill. Of course, him being of a magical persuasion himself, he could easily hide his motives. Although his appearance suggested that he merely had control over ice, not a threat unless, well, threatened. Watch yourself.

 

Dakxer entered the inn. Crowded, but that was to be expected. He shoved past a few disorderly customers to get to the counter, his men dispersing rapidly. He addressed the innkeeper. "I need some rooms for my men to stay for the night."

 

"How many?" the innkeeper replied. "Ten" said Dakxer. "But we can sleep on the floor."

 

The innkeeper chuckled at this, his double chin wriggling in contempt.

 

Dakxer pulled out his three-bladed trident and slammed the blunt end of it on the counter. He allowed a trickle of dark energy to wriggle past the end of it to complete the effect, although it likely would be missed in the flickering shadows already in the room. "How many rooms do you have available, and how much?"

 

"Ten! Ten!" the innkeeper blubbered. "It will be two gold coins to stay the night, which includes three meals, dinner, breakfast, and lunch the following day!"

 

"Good." said Dakxer, pulling out ten gold coins and giving them to the innkeeper. "We will be here five days. Where are our rooms?"

 

"Down that hall and to the right - the last ten rooms down there are yours."

 

"And there will be no trouble while we stay here." Dakxer growled. "You will deliver on what you said, you filthy dishonest cheat." The innkeeper looked taken aback, but it was so obviously faked even Dakxer could tell. Dakxer lowered his voice to a whisper, sliding the trident between the innkeeper's double chins. "You think you can get away with this, robbing the poor and downtrodden of this town, taking advantage of how miserable they are, how desperate they have become to forget. But I am not as I appear, little worm. I have seen and lived among worse than you, trusting them, and suffered for it. I will not be intimidated."

 

He beckoned to Lance, who sent the news along to the rest of his men. They were already into mischief, he saw. A couple of them had joined a card game near the back wall, and one was already talking with some of the other female guests. Some others, upon hearing the news, turned around and headed back out the inn door towards more profitable adventures. Dakxer warned them all, though Lance, to keep their efforts low key, as the goal - Basil's goal - was to frighten and intimidate, not to provoke a full-scale war against Dunnor. More importantly, Dakxer didn't want his brother's assassin to know he was here and attempt an escape.

 

"Whatever you do here, it will be on your own heads. Don't mention Basil, or Dunnor, or my name. Especially not my name."

 

IC (Stacey): "A song might be nice" Stacey said. Anything to distract her from the chilling wind. She almost wished she had something thicker to cover herself to keep out the cold, like a blanket of thick leaves she had used last winter.

 

Although it wasn't really that bad, since Macky and the horse were warm, but her fingers stung that held the reins.

 

IC (Macky): Macky awoke. He scrambled up out of Stacey's shirt, still a bit delirious, and was shocked to be so high up. He increased his grip on Stacey's shoulder and shivered in fright. "Too high..." babbled the squirrel. "Horse. Moving too fast."

 

Stacey shook her head.

 

"Ah come on." Macky said. "This is dangerous. And cold. I hate cold."

 

"Who is that?" The horse inquired.

 

"It's a squirrel." said Macky. "I'm Macky, Stacey's perfect other half, according to this deranged knight here."

 

The horse didn't break his smooth clip, but his back shook a bit with laughter.

 

Stacey just smiled. "Whose idea was it to go on this adventure, anyway?"

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IC: Benjamin Grimpen

The knight laughed and said, "Mine. You know, if you are having second thoughts about this, we are not too far from where we found you. You can tell your horse what to do elaborately, instead of having to use crude forms of communication. You can go back to the forest."

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IC (Theodora)

 

Theodora, crouched in the shadows of a particularly thick set of knotted and twisted trees, eyeing the collection of bandits before here. She'd caught up with sole survivor of the attempted assault and had slaked her thirst upon him. Who knew when she would get the chance to eat again? Best to make use of every acceptable opportunity that came along. There were quite a few bandits about....and one of them was quite nearby, standing against a tree. Evidently he felt couldn't trust his comrades near his food, as he was tearing into the leg of some unfortunate animal. Silently, Theodora crept up behind him, almost melting into the shadows. Then, with a swift movement of her hands, she'd wrapped him in a headlock and dragged him into the shadows. He would have screamed, had her grip not been blocking the flow of air to his lungs.

 

She pulled back her hood, revealing her red eyes and fanged mouth....and then she bit down on his neck. Soon enough, his struggles had ceased.

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: "There are not too many fair ladies in Albion who have the same skill in killing the greens as you demonstrate," the younger Caerwyn answered eyes glittering with mischievous glee at getting to show he wasn't quite the drunken fool many took him to be. "Tell me Lady Black, would you be interested in joining a little soiree of mine that could prove quite...exhilarating."

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IC:

Rick awoke to find himself in a dark room. Very little light came in through a small window that appeared from the door. He then heard foot steps, closer and closer as they came. Soon they stopped at his door, blocking the light into it.

 

OOC: This is the part where I met the lovely lord, if he's the one to interrogate me.

Edited by Flaredrick: Forgotten One

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IC:"Something is amiss."The rider spoke, jumping into the meat of the topic without preamble. He was not one to waste words, not when the same message could be accomplished in fewer syllables. A single hand moved up, yanking back the hood that had protected his eyes from the sun as he rode.

 

"There should be more travelers on the roads. And I smell blood. Freshly spilled."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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OOC: If I wanted to kill off your PC, I'd have opened up with a volley of daggers. Swords and shields don't do much good against ranged attacks.

 

See also: Battle of Agincourt. History.

 

Educate yourselves.

 

BOW BEFORE THE LONGBOW MORTALS.

 

IC (Thedora)

 

Blood still dripping from her mouth, Theodora looked over her meal's equipment. It was nothing particularly impressive even for a lowly bandit. Creeping forwards once again, she hissed in pain as some of the sunlight that was now filtering through the trees hit her face. She pulled her head up further, hoping to block the worst of it. All she had to do now was wait for a bandit to come looking for their missing comrade. Eventually, they would panic.

 

Panicking prey was by far the easiest to slay.

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: Jack Storm

Storm entered the cell. Inside was one murderer of many Basil's men. Jack leaned up against a wall. "Rick, you have killed three major agents of Basil. What did you plan to do here?"

 

IC: Meredith Black

"Yes. I don't see why not. When and where shall it be? Also, shouldn't we deal with the trolls invading Darkharbour first?"

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IC (Stacey): "Sorry, Grimpen. I was talking to Macky. He is being rather boisterous."

 

"Excuse me" grumbled the squirrel. "We are out here in the the cold, atop a horse, several miles from known civilization."

 

"You mean the forest, right, Macky? And" Stacey tweaked his nose, "we are out here in the cold because of your plan, Macky."

 

"I'm just stating the facts" Macky pointed out. "And it was your idea to go with these knights to Falcon's Roost."

 

Stacey ignored him. "I've never got a chance to visit an ice fortress. And we're not likely to find such kind traveling companions again. Best to stick it out." She addressed everyone with the statement. "And, Macky, you shouldn't be complaining. You have fur."

 

"That's part of the point." Macky said. "I've seen humans...take fur before."

 

"Um, you don't have enough fur for that, Macky." Stacey said. At least, I hope not. And they will probably think Macky's a familiar, like Grimpen did. She touched the short sling at her waist, and the small bag of pebbles near it. And if not...Stacey kept thinking. She looked over at Grimpen, who carried weapons, and Blake's long knife. And the horses could go fast. Nobody is going to try to hurt us.

 

At least, not over the fur of one squirrel.

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IC:

"Well for starters, I know I'm going to kill you next when this is all over. Second, your life is a lie. Third, you suck at defending your own men. Fourth, this place stinks, and I feel like something's crawling up my back. But that's not why you're here right?" Rick was being tauntful at his interrogator. "Besides, when I get out of here, I can't wait to tell your 'boss' what you've been doing. Even he kills me."

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IC: "Oh did I not mention, my fair lady? The soiree will be aboard the trolls ships. My my we will have fun." he turned to the map to explain, "My new friend Vargsson will lead his men and the company of Black Bulls and as many archers as you need down Aubersons Street here, taking them down to the harbour and the trolls. They'll have no choice but to fight back to try and stop you, so will rush to try and be the first to stick a sword in your belly. While you hold them on Auberson, you Lady Black will take a smaller company around the beachhead here," he pointed to a sweep of land the curled round Darkharbour, "You're to sneak past enemy lines and put their ships to the torch. I think cutting off their means of retreat should hit their morale hard."

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