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Darkvoidof40k wrote:I do not approve.

I wasn't sure it would work either but I guess it might be of some inspiration to other players who are unfortunate enough to encounter a reaper (I'm looking at you Ragnar4!).

Yes! I started the new page!

No, do not think about it guys, this sonuvabiatch was lucky.

Extremely.

You may not be...

But also Ragnar can you please tell me if you are actually planning to fight the Reaper, or run away or something, as I really need to know so I can do an event.

If you are going to fight it I need you to PM me with your actions

Delta stalks a small group of Bandits with an unnerving stealth, only stopping to avoid being spotted by the Bandits and always keeping an eye on the Bandits actions or activates and calculating a way to counter their AK-47’s and scrap Blades. As the Bandits reach the door of a large Church and enter Delta enters through a crack in that leads to the basement and quietly makes his way upstairs only stopping to slice the throat of a Bandit guard and throw his body into the basement. He enters the main area and observes the Bandits knelling before a burning shrine and praying to some false god.

“To our lord who has gifted us survival I offer this trophy over the servants of the rival gods, please guide us lord.”
Delta jumps down from the roof into the group and begins to slice the Bandits throats and disembowelling them. He kicks their leader to the ground and slowly pushes his sword through his skull.
Delta quickly dodges an AK-47 round and slashes the arms of the Bandit, he then forces his blade into the skull of the Bandit.

“What are you?”
A Bandit lies blooded and dyeing and looks up to the vile Delta
“I am the Sentinel of Sorrow, I am the fear, and I am the creature that lurks in the corner of this world.”
Delta strikes a final blow against the Bandits head.

Don't use dice, Kaiser, it's far easier and more satisfactory for everyone if you just spend your time writing a good event.

If I must say so, the last one was.. extremely mediocre. First page of roleplaying and one player gets a death laser?

These Reaper's are turning into great big pussies.

Dimitri hated the darkness. It wasn't that he was scared of it, it was just that it enveloped you and rendered your senses null. In the darkness a man was no more than a bumbling fool. Dimitri smiled at the thought.

'No unless you've been trained for that sort of thing.' he thought. He didn't fear the dark for that reason too, he'd long since learned how to make it his ally.

"который час?" what time is it? Came a familiar gruff voice behind him. Dimitri looked at his watch, and remembered to turn on the light to see it in the infernal darkness. Ever since they'd found this abandoned shack, it had been dark. Despite their best efforts they hadn't been able to find a light source.

"About dawn, we should get moving soon."

"только когда я имел кое-что, чтобы поесть, мой живот убивает меня" "Not until I've had something to eat, my stomach is killing me" came a female voice to Dimitri's right. Dimitri shrugged.

"Alright, we'll eat and then we can go, but make it fast."

"Мог бы также, это будет последняя из пищи, пока мы не добираемся до Монетного веса" "Might as well, it will be the last of the food until we get to Troy" Came a much younger voice to Dimitri's left.

"Let's get some light in here." Dimitri said and flicked a switch. The flashlight came to life and Dimitri set it on the table. He was surrounded by three soldiers, similarly clothed to him. One was huge, had thick arms and a bulldog like face, he held an RPK held like and assault rifle across his chest ans also set it down on the table in front of him.

"Whats on the menu?" The bull man said.

"Same thing as the last three days." Piped the much younger, much smaller man across the table from him, around him was strapped a large satchel with a red cross on it and he held an MP5 at his side.

"How old are those rations? I think my grandpa ate part of em back in World War II" The woman groaned. Unlike the others, she wore a red beret and had an SVD sniper rifle slung over her shoulder.

"You wanna eat Sonya? This is what we have. "Dimitri said sternly."

"Nah, I'll wait, those things are tearing up my insides." She said resignedly. Dimitri shrugged and tossed her rations to the bulldog.

"Heads up Sergei" He said, Sergei caught the package neatly and then passed it to the scrawny kid.

"Here, Peter, you need to put some meat on those bones of yours." Sergei said jokingly.

"Gee, thanks." Peter said with no relish whatsoever.

About ten minutes later the group was leaving the building through the thing's only entrance. It had been quiet for a couple days at least. Dimitri hadn't had to kill a raider or a bandit since last week, but he knew that could all change in a second.

"So where are we going again?" Peter asked.

"Across the river to Troy, maybe we can find some work or at least some shelter there."

"How the hell are we gonna cross the river?" Sergei asked indignantly.

"I'll figure that out when we get there. Right now, lets focus on getting there in one piece, if the intel that old man gave us us is correct, there should be a small encampment just east of the river, we can ask the people there's a way across."

"Yeah unless those people don't want to talk and kill us."

"There's that." Dimitri admitted "But we're just going to have to risk it."

And so the small squad moved on through the wasteland, west towards hope. Or death...........

It is not a death laser.

He can do one blast of Reaper energy, and that's it, you can dodge it, and after it has been used, he is as tired as f**k

FITZZ used dice in his RP and it worked out REALLY well. So I am taking a leaf out of his book *yanks leaf out of book*

And the Reaper wasn't really a pussy, it is just that it's main strength was, well, strength.

Warork; just so you know:

1) The bunker is mine and it has ~500 inhabitants.
2) It has two entrances.
3) Your post requires a re-write.
4) I'm writing IC as we speak.

(Wait, I thought there was more than one, and plus I wasn't even using the entire bunker, just the little entrance area.....

You mean there can't be at least one small part that nobody's at right now? With a bunker that big I think that's highly unlikely I was using the part in the NE part of the map.

And plus I just left the bunker so what does it matter to you?)

It matters that my dudes just left (in the post I've been writing for awhile on and off over the last hour) the NE entrance.

With 500 people, who have lived there for years and have converted schools/play centres/places of worship/shops etc, I'd say most of the space is used.

Besides, strolling through a populated bunker isn't easy.

Sorry dude, but I did call it in my character form. You could just roleplay into existance another bunker somewhere else? Minimal-to-no editing required.

Michael walked through the dimly lit corridor, the grey walls depressing to see, no matter how much he tried to get used to them. John and Thomson matched his pace, whilst Rick, Terry, Bill and Adrian followed in their wake. They walked in silence, until, Thomson broke the tension, "This is dangerous Mikey," he stated. Michael shrugged, "It always is."
They reached the five concrete steps that heralded the beginning of the end of the bunker, and they scaled them in as many steps. John stepped forward, turning the wheel that unlocked the bunker door. The eight foot, thirty-centimetre thick reinforced-steel door screeched open; its metal hinges groaning in protest. Nonetheless, the man hauled it open. Sun light streamed in, forcing them to blink several times in order to adjust their vision. Six of the seven men exited through the doorway, Terry remaining behind the doorway that was the boundary between the artificial underworld that was their home, and the dangerous, uncaring real world.
"See you tonight, Terry," Michael said, turning to his elderly friend.
"I hope so, Michael, it's a cruel world out there nowadays, don't expect any favors from it," The old man replied.
Michael tapped the holstered M9 at his side, "I don't expect anything from the world, except for a tonne of hurt directed at everyone. Luckily, we're packing a few tonnes ourselves," he grinned devillishly.
Terry smiled sadly, "You young fools and your guns; you'll get yourselves killed one of these days."
"Well it's us young fools and our guns that're providing for y'all whilst you all sit comfortably ten metres underground. Have yer missus cook one of her pies, and I promise I'll bring all the lads back in one piece; the tantalizing scent of Martha's pies are enough to rouse the dead."
"I'll put one on your coffin then," Terry chuckled.
"Get lost, you old coot," Michael laughed, humorously waving a hand to wave away the old man.
Terry smiled and shut the steel door with a loud thunk.

The group of soldiers headed over to the garages that stood nearby, hidden under a "hill" that had taken a lot of work to create. Using a remote-control, Rick opened the first. They all embarked upon the jeep that was inside, Bill driving, Michael riding shotgun and the rest in the back. The vehicle roared to life as the correct key entered the ignition. The sturdy jeep moved out of the garage, which closed behind them, and soon climbed to a respectible sixty miles-per-hour. Looking to the South, Michael spied the dangerous ruins of London to which they were headed. Michael knew that they had a high chance of dying there. But didn't they always?

He removed his Mossberg 500 from its holster on his back, opened his 12 Gauge pouche and began pushing shells into the shotgun. He smiled.

Will continue at a later date.

Darkvoidof40k wrote:Don't use dice, Kaiser, it's far easier and more satisfactory for everyone if you just spend your time writing a good event.

If I must say so, the last one was.. extremely mediocre. First page of roleplaying and one player gets a death laser?

These Reaper's are turning into great big pussies.

Hey,

An alleycat can kill a Balor as long as it rolls 3 20's in a row.

(Fine, I changed the location to some random shack in the wasteland somewhere at least generally in the northeastern part of the map, happy now Dark? -_- )

The scimitar trundled down the edge of the road, or what had been a road, since the Apocalypse nobody bothered to repair them, coupled with the overgrowth from the plants they were little more than lumps of broken black rock carving their way across the countryside, they were on their way back from Edin-castle, situated in the shattered remains of edinburgh, They had recived word from troy that they were required, no word yet on why, but it must be serious, a Biker was sent, nobody sends bikers anymore pigeons wer the most reliable and don't use any fuel.

The tank reached a bridge, the center collapsed where it was split by an earthquake, Lucy jumped off the side, dragging the planks of wood about to the width required by the scimitar, Amy guided it across carefully and they carried on their way, they rounded a bend and found a caravan, strewn across the road. Debris was everywhere, gore was splattered across the scene. two huge gash marks eviscerated the horses that were acting as the groups transport

Lucy slid down from the turret, surveying the scene "Damn It, looks like reapers. "how far are we from Franklin's outpost, these are probably some of his people"

Kirsty put her binoculars down "Lucy, there's nothing Franklin can do, he has one stripped down APC, he'll never be able to bring back all these supplys, we better get them off the road"

"we don't have time, we NEED to get to Corby by nightfall, otherwise that will be us, a splat on the road" Roy cut in, "do you want to be a splat?"

they stopped the tank, Kirsty and Lucy quikly searching through the scattered contents of the caravan, they managed to grab a couple jerrycans of fuel and a box of bullets. the pigeons were still alive as well, so lucy set one offf with a message to franklin saying where the wreckage was.

Nice post Ninja, but can you tell me who Franklin is please, or is he just sme leader of an outpost?

Or perhaps I have missed something...

Donesaw cursed under her breath. The maps she had found clearly had marked this site for something, but there was nothing except some big-ass hills.
"well Geri, i guess it was wasted trip after all" She said to her dog, German shepherd that had been her companion since the reapers arrival.

suddenly she hear some motor voice coming from the underground. Arming her AK, she awaited for the reason for the voice to show itself.


OOC
@dark We meet again, mister dark.

We have stats now?

Indeed. New character, eh? Wonder what this "Donesaw" will be like.

Just some random outpost leader, obviously being wanderers my characters would know most of the outposts

Charles Marlow, the Mayor of Troy, paced up and down his office, agitated. He was waiting for someone, and they were taking quite some time to arrive. This pissed him off. Everybody was saying he was paranoid, when he was just making sure that everybody inside Troy was safe. He decided to sit down, and try to calm down a little. The thing was that he thought Troy was not safe enough. The Raiders hadn't attacked in weeks, and he thought they were planning something. Perhaps a way to destroy Troy and take all of it's supplies, destroy all that he had done.
He looked up when a man in a dusty leather jacket, torn jeans, and a cowboy hat walked into the room hurriedly.

"Sorry I'm late Charles. I heard you wanted to see me urgently," he asked, his American accent obvious. "What is it?"

"Swift, I need to ask you something," Charles stated calmly, stroking his moustache. "But you may not like it," he said calmly to his friend. He had known swift for a long time. In fact, they were almost lifelong friends. Him and Charles were the ones who were responsible for bringing Troy together, and he had put him in charge of it's defense. And Charles need him now to agree with him on this.

He spoke again," I think we need to increase the defenses of Troy. I also want to recruit more people to help in the defence of this city. Also we should send out somebody to check on the Raiders in London.

At these words Swift shook his head and spoke.

"Dear God, Charles. You're not going on about this again are ya?" he asked disappointedly. "Troy is perfectly safe, our walls will never be breached, and the Raiders sure as heel ain't gonna get us. Leave them to thier own things. Give US a rest."

"Swift, you know how important this is to me. I am incharge of this city and I do not want it to be destroyed by some dumb Raiders. Remember what happened to the first Troy," he reminded Swift, a tone of annoyment in his voice.

"I know, but that ain't gonna happen to us. We are perfectly safe, Charles, and you know that."

"Listen to me. The Raiders haven't attacked for weeks, now you know they always attack us every chance they get, now I think they have finally thought of a plan to breach our walls. Now do what I said, because you know I am not going to change my mind about this," he said loudly, bangind his fist on the table for effect.

"Fine. But if you're wrong yo're just gonna look silly ain't ya? I'll do the first and second thing, but for the first I'm gonna have to find somebody skilled enough to pul it off."

"Thank you, Swift. Just find somebody who has a good reputation."

"Why do you this, Charles?" Swift asked quietly.

"It's because I care for these people Charles," he said, standing up and walking over to the window to take a look at his great city. "All I do is care. And worry about thier safety being taken away."

K Ninja

You know us American's don't sound like that, right?

( I dunno Mordo, some do, its fine Shas.)

Mordoskul wrote:You know us American's don't sound like that, right?

Meh. Growing up in Wyoming, I thought he sounded a lot smarter than most of the people I knew(lol). Not ALL americans sound like that, but that was clearly, some country bumpkin hick right there.

Ok....let me get a character into this party before it get's to far along....


Player Name:FITZZ
Character Name:Sabrina "Whiskey" Lopez .
Char Age: 26
Char appearance: Latina,Tall (5'8") athletic build,dressed in fatigues .
Equipment: Carries a rucksack filled with supplies as well as an M-4,a Barreta 9MM and a K-Bar knife.
Backstory: Whiskey grew up in East L.A. and was a member of a local street gang,at age 17 she was arrested for the aggravated assault of a rival gang member and given the choice of either joining the armed forces or spending the next ten years in prison.
She opted to join the Army and was subsequently stationed in London.
Other info: Whiskey is a loner...trusting no one,she now wanders the waste land and ruins simply surviving from day to day...

Lev was eating his soup when the shouts of panic began. Donning his suit, he walked out of his shack in town to see half the town on fire, and the other half being attacked by bandits. Sighing, Lev knew he F**ked up. Badly. He should have put out the truck fire. That way, other raiders wouldn't have come.

But now was the time for action. Grabbing his Seiga, Lev began the process of wiping out the bandits. First it was the freak with the rugby ball. His chest became a mess as a 12 gauge slug entered his stomach. The next few had the same fate. Then he saw the hulking man. 7 feet tall, and carrying a Minigun like it was a pistol, the man began firing into the crowd. Lev would have none of it. Taking off his Ghillie suit for better movement, he pulled out the knife of his ancestors. Doing a hunters run (A low, crouched run) he began to move towards the man-beast. Then he was spotted. The man looked towards him, and was beginning to spin the barrels. By the time they had reached the proper RPM, there were no hands to fire the weapon. They were lying on the ground next to it, soaked in blood. Then the man fell. Lev had cut his hands off, then had plunged the knife right into the man's temple.

This had exactly the effect he wanted. The Bandits, seeing the man go down, fled from the Russian.

"Lev... You gotta help..." It was Kat on the radio.

"Da. Yes Kat?"

"We are in the church... They have us here... They killed the men and are raping the women. I'm scared." She sounded frightened, like a small child.

"Do not worry. I will be there in 2 minutes."

"Lev... Hurry..."

Lev returned to his shack, one of the only building not touched by the fire. Grabbing another clip for his shotgun, he donned a flak jacket. He wanted to be comfortable when he killed people.

"Oi, Boss, Gringo's knockin' on da door!" The bandit was obviously ready for the women tied to the pews, the stiffy he sported didn't help conceal it.

"Aight. Let im in."

Lev blew the doors open with a small breaching charge. The bandits became confused, scared, and angry at the same time. That's when Lev struck. Firing the automatic shogun into the men, he blasted holes the size of soda cans into each head with pinpoint accuracy. Round after round was fired from the worn maw of the weapon, but Lev didn't think it was enough. After he ran out of ammunition, There was one bandit left. The one who as crying, has a fairly large brown spot in the seat of his pants, and had, strangely enough, a large hard-on.

Lev fixed that fast. Taking him into the other room, the women only heard the cries of pain as Lev castrated the man with the heel of his boot.

"Come. We leave this place." Lev walked over the bodies of the raiders, beaconing for his comrades to follow.

They did so with no hesitation.

IC:..

Whiskey woke with a start,she'd been dreaming again...which had never been good.
She pulled a frayed blanket she had found tighter around her to combat the early morning chill and glanced around in the dim light.
She'd taken refuge in the cellar of a ruined house just outside of London the night before,after evading a small group of Raiders...not that she was particularly concerned with dealing with that sort...she had simply been tired and had opted to avoid confrontation in hopes of a chance to get some much needed rest..

She stood and streached and sipped some water from her canteen,splashing a bit on her face to chase away the groggy feeling in her head...
Searching the delapedated home she found nothing of use save a few cans of baked beans buried behind a box of molding cracker...she sighed and added the cans to the supplies in her rucksack ,slung her riffle, and walked cautiously outside.
Blinking against the early morning glare Whiskey stared towards London...or what had been London before the world had gone insane.
She shook her head...she'd been in London for the past week and just didn't feel up to returning..Whiskey knew of the various settlements that lay to the West and thought perhaps she'd venture that direction...
She unslung her riffle and crept towards the cover of a nearby line of trees...her dark eyes scanning the area as she moved...
After walking for an hour or better Whiskey found a shaded area and sat...her eyes fixed on the horizan she began to mechanicly spoon beans from one of the cans she'd found earlier into her mouth...if her calculations were correct ...she'd reach "Posh Town" in an hour.

OOC:...

I figure I'll have "Whiskey" stroll on over to Elysium and see what sort of trouble she can stir up.

The sun blazed unforgivingly overhead and Dimitri wiped the sweat from his brow. Him and his squad had been walking for hours now, and the sun was high in the sky. Dimitri stopped for a moment and took a swig from his canteen, not relishing how low his supply was.

"How are we for water?" He asked. Peter spoke up.

"Not very good, we might last another day."

Dimitri grunted and shook his head, they needed supplies soon. He looked west and saw the town they sought, just a spec on the horizon, or at least he thought it was the town, the heat haze was distorting his vision. They walked on, without shade, there were no trees in the wasteland. The might as well have been traversing a desert. Hours passed and the land changed little, the encountered no people or even any indigenous life. The town was closer than they expected though, they soon could see the outline of it on the horizon, a few buildings were taller than the others it seemed, and rather strangely shaped.

Soon, they found a road, or rather, a path at least, made for caravans or wagons to cross over the wasteland and followed that.

"Hey boss, we got company." Sonya said suddenly, Dimitri looked up, he saw what they all saw, a man standing in the middle of the road, about a hundred yards away, next to an overturned wagon.

"Looks like he's stuck." Sergei said.

"Advance with caution." Dimitri ordered and continued on.

Soon they were a few yards away, the man was wearing blue overalls and had horrible teeth, his head was covered with a wool cap.

"Hey there strangers." He said. "Mind helping an old timer with his wagon?"

Dimitri gave a quick look to his squad, they thought the same thing, he was much too friendly for a blasted place like this.

"This is yours eh?" Dimitri asked, indicating the wagon, truth be told he was stalling for time, hoping the man would slip up soon and expose himself for whatever trick he was trying to pull.

"Why, no, sonny, I just need to get this thing flipped over, if you'd be so kind as to come over here and help me, I'd be much obliged."

Dimitri squinted, he searched the man's face for any signs of fallacy, finding none, he sighed, perhaps the man was just what he seemed, a stranger needing some help.

"Alright, let me--" He began when a loud crack resounded off the surrounding air, the squad immediately knew it was the retort of a rifle and hit the deck. Dimitri looked around, in the distance, not too far away he saw a man topple over the backside of a hill and another next to him duck. Another rifle shot rang out and the second man on the hill flew backwards. Dimitri's head snapped around as he heard the click of a weapon being cocked next to him and saw that the old man was now pointing a revolver at his guts, the man began to curse at Dimitri but was quickly cut off as Dimitri, grabbed the man's wrist and with a quick snap, broke it. The revolver dropped ans so did the man, writhing and holding his broken wrist. Dimitri picked up the revolver and fired it into the man's head before he could protest and then dropped the pistol.

"Boss" Sergei said, getting Dimitri's attention. He looked up and saw another figure approaching them, his squad raised their weapons but Dimitri waved them down. He had a feeling this man had just saved their butts.

the man became easier to make out as he came closer, he was clothed in a leather duster and wide brimmed cowboy hat, in his hands he held a Winchester repeater.

"You folks alright?" He asked, taking all the supplies he could from the dead old man, not asking who had killed him, Dimitri figured he probably didn't care.

"Yeah, thanks for the help." Dimitri said evenly. "Whats your name, friend?"

the man looked up and smiled slightly. "Rosco, Rivendell ranger at your service."

"Rivendell?" Peter asked. Rosco pointed to the town in the distance. "That little patch of dirt over there."

"That's what the town's called? Why?"

"Oh, you'll see." Rosco said, chuckling a little to himself.

Together, the band made their way towards the town, as they neared it, Dimitri's eyes widened in surprise, the structures he had thought were buildings were not in fact that but trees. Not just the knurled knob ridden husks that one often sees in the wasteland, but large, tall trees with huge canopies of golden leaves. Even before the apocalypse, Dimitri had seen nothing like it.

"святое дерьмо!" "Holy gak!" Sonya exclaimed.

"How is that possible?" Peter asked Rosco as they neared the town's gate.

"They've mutated, or so I've been told, the leaves turned from green to golden and never shed, they stay this way year round, they were here when the town was founded as far as I know, they've stayed ever since."

Soon, the five entered the small town through its large gate and made their way to the center.

"Well, here we are, friends, you can probably get a meal and a place to stay over there at the saloon and the inn, just try not to cause too much trouble okay?" Rosco said with a chuckle and left them.

"Come on" Dimitri said, heading off, his hands on his weapon. "Lets go get some real food."

i may join this going to see how it pans out for a while, and of course I'm sorting out a truly indepth char