Post/Author/DateTime	Post
SilverWolf 01-12-06, 10:31 PM	Me and one friend have started a new roleplaying story, and we want more people to join. we would like to keep it a small number of people, so i found an idea. i am posting what we have so far, and if you like it, post ONE response. Ignore all responses before yours. those who seem to fit our style of play best will recieve a pm. NOTE: we aren't experts at roleplaying. weve only been doing this for about two years, and most of it has been really relaxed. here is what we have so far, the two characters are Hawk, and Martyr. (im hawk, Martyr is my friend) The battle on Sonma, the biggest of The Empires planets, had been going for ten days so far. that was ten more days then anyone thought. Nobody ever imagined that Sonma would be attacked. It was just overlooked. Even though the capital city-planet was the seat of The Council, and the center of trade for pretty much the whole galaxy, it had never been atttacked before. It was a total surprise then, when a battle fleet of Independents, along with a few Cognati cruisers, just warped out of no where and blew up half the planet in a matter of days. The inevitable was happening, and an even bigger threat was brewing in the coldness of space... On this day, 1000 years ago, Earth was destroyed by it's own inhabitants. In a fight for survival against the great alien races, the Aboleths, and the Ithilids, Earth knew it had lost. The loosely allied forces decided that the only way to truly win, was to leave the planet, and blow it up as they left. This was The Diaspora, the great scattering of the survivors across the galaxy, seeking new homes. Now three great powers are left, along with numerous small alliances. COGNATI SANCTUS Planet(s) Phenixia Races: primarily elves, sylvans, dragons and lizardfolk In the dense forests of Phenixia, The Sacred Kin have created their own Eden. A planet still going through evolution, Phenixia (named after the pheonix) symbolizes the rebirth of nature, and a new home planet for The Kin. Barely anyone knows what it is they are up to on their mysterious home, and that is the way The Kin want it. GOLD-FORGE Planet(s) Rogen and it's moon, Mor. Races: Dwarves, Gnomes, Warforged and humans. The denizens of Rogen have claimed this mountainous planet as their own, and a wise choice it was. It's moon, Mor, is chalk full of gold, and has been turned into a huge mine. On the surface, other resources are gathered, processed, and eventually sold. In it's quest for equality, Gold-Forge is doing very well. Everyone pulls their share, and everyone gets their share. Except for The Empire. Try as they might, the denizens of Rogen can't protect their gold from The Empire much longer. They will need help if they want to save their wealth, and lives. THE EMPIRE Planet(s) Sonma, Eiga and Farr Races: humans and angels The Empire is by far the biggest and strongest faction. Beyond their three main planets, they have control of many other imperialistic colonies. In their paranoia that The Last War will repeat itself, they have opressed many lives for total control. Sonma is the biggest planet. The council rests here, and almost all trade for The Empire is done here. Full of aristocratic wizards and Psiions, everything is monitered. Eiga is the smallest planet, but is one big war base. It is here that the angels live, redying for battle, if one ever comes. Farr is aproxiamately the size of Earth, and looks like it two. Farr suplies the agricultural needs of The Empire, and is worked by all the common people that aren't good enough for Sonma, and not in the military. There are also INDEPENDENTS. Those planets that have avoided imperialism, and still have their freedom. Some of them are filled with good, honest people, and some are filled with cold, greedy dark elves. One thing does unite them though. Their resistance agaisnt The Empire. That is why Sonma has become a war-field. Enough is enough. It's time to grab a gun, and join a side. Hawk, grabs a gun, signals his squad to follow, and heads into the street. His dark cloak, littered with bullet holes, swirls around black combat armor. A rifle in hand, he dodges several shots from an Empire squad across the block, and returns fire. His men do the same, but they move quickly. No time to waste on a small fire-fight. they had a mission. A bright light flashes becoming the form of a great angel clad in gold and silver battle armor. The man yells "Crush these rebellious fools, let non survive, fight for the glory of The Empire"....Martyr, The Empires Right hand, their bringer of justice to all who fight against the glory of The Empire. Sent by his ruler the end this war that has raged on for 6 months, "This war must be ended now, our casualties rise with each day and that is blood shed we do not need, Now go Martyr and bring us victory." "Yes my liege." He left only to arive on Sonma with sights of destruction and death everywhere. Witnessing all of this he knew now more then ever that this war must be ended... Martyr raised his sword and called down lightining itself, which struck and imbued his blade and charged skewering the first rebel he saw leaving him as a mine, any and all who touched this man would face the shock of god's wrath. Bullets zoomed by, but Martyr dodge and blocked all but on which knicked his cheek. He saw a man in a black suit of armor and cloak ridden with bullet wounds. Martyr saw him as the man that led this rebellion and sought to end his life and this war with it. Martyr raised his sword and moved his hand across to reveal angelic ruins which read "DAIS" and seemed to change his sword, tilting his sword forward aiming for the mans heart he charged... Hawk saw the shining figure charge down the street. He turned to his troops, and saw the fear in his eyes as lightning rained around them. "Sgt, Moris!" he yelled. A fairly young soldier with a red feather badge on his chest walked forth. "yes, sir?" the soldier asked. "take all the troops to the water-works in the 3rd district. Shut off the water lines to the capital sqare, the Alliance HQ, and all the uptown areas. If you get that done, send half the remaining troops and cut off their electricity from inside the plant. Its only a block away from the water-works." Hawk ordered. "But sir, we have troops stationed in those areas!" replied Moris. "An Alliance cruiser is on its way, they will all be dead by then! Just go!" he commanded. The Sgt. stared in shock for a moment, and then signaled to the troops to follow his lead. Their general turned back to the Angel that was speeding towards him. This was bad, but it could be worse. He let his cloack drop to the ground, and pulled out his sword, mouthing the word "nox." the crimson blade burned with fire that illuminated his whole body. It engulfed him, causing Hawk to shake. His hands erupted into claws, as dark, feathery wings burst from his back. Eyes glowing red, Hawk met the gaze of the angel once more. "Martyr... so it is you... this will be interesting..."
Gharemgor 02-06-06, 05:15 AM	(Contacting me often works best by e-mail, though PMing will probably work for me also) Before the ceiling height stained glass window, the burning seraph named Benediction stretched forth his arms, both dappled in the choked sunlight streaming in in blues and oranges that flitted down from the panes behind him but also in the sun bright corona of his own yellow-white heavenly flame that whipped his hair and vestments like a stiff wind. His voice boomed over the congregation, Imperial zealots all, on knees with their hands clasped in pious devotion, eyes swollen and large, upturned toward him, helmets at the floor by their knees. They were the fist of the Empire mightly soldiers in a holy war, but were as always strongest upon their knees in veneration. Benediction invoked his listeners "Behold, children of the Empire. The battles ring even now at our very gates. The feet of the infidels pound the holy soil of Sonma and they believe our disbelief at their gall is the same as our losing our faith..." Suddenly his corona flashed as he gestured forward. "I ask children, are they right?" The chorus "Never!" boomed through the gothic hall, the weight of the response causing the candelabras flames to gutter. All was silent for a long moment, except outside, beyond the windows, where the battle took no pause in reverence, the chuga-chuga of artillery fire, the pumb of distant explosions. Finally the angel began again. "Then children," arms outspread, eyes flashing with passion "I ask that you take your weapons that the Holy Empire has given you...blahk!" the sentence was brought to a halt as the report of a heavy rifle from behind the angel blew the top of his head off. As the flames died, wings curling and fluttering lifelessly a figure stood where the angel had been, having appeared from nowhere letting his invisibility drop--olive skinned with a pair of stout horns above a square jaw and black eyes rimming white irises, an armorsuit the color of rust stained with blood. His name was Gharemgor, an ogre mage from the independant world of Nihyss, and he lived to shut up pretentious fools like Benediction, in the most permanent way possible. He sneered, as the zealots staggered back in disbelief. It took a moment for the shock to fade and for the Imperials to scramble for their rifles. It was time Gharemgor used to switch his rifle into full auto and to rip into the soldiers from shoulder level. Bodies were already flopping onto the tiles by the time the first zealots had their weapons up. Only a handful were still standing by the time the weapons were ready for use. Gharemgor reached out the hand he'd been using to cradle the heavy weapon and with a flick of his hand a pool of inky blackness formed between and around the surviving zealots. The ogre mage dived in headfirst. In the zone of blackness the zealots were blind. They shot at the stage where Gharemgor was once, but they only succeeded in shattering stained glass. Then the razor claws of Gharemgor were upon them. They had not had time to replace their helmets and so the ogre went for their throats, one by one ending their lives in a gurgle of confusion and fear. When all was done Gharemgor stood in the chapel annex, surrounded by a spread of a dozen dead soldiers and their headless angel warchaplain. It was everything that had been promised him by the battle scarred dwarf who had come to his world requesting aid. Finally he was taking the battle to the Empire, making them eat every scrap of self-righteous superiority they had force fed the starving heretics on his planet, even as they withheld shipments of food and aid until they agreed to accept the right of the Empire to tell them how to live, and where, and how to dress. Or else. Now they would pay for all that. Striding toward the gaping shattered window, staring out at the red lit ruins of shattered buildings and slumped corpses, Gharemgor slid back into invisibility, the world rippling over him until all that remained was the sound of crunching glass under heavy boots marching back out to war.