- Registered Member
Member for 9 years, 4 months, and 22 days
Last active Fri, Jan, 3 2014 13:02:48
- 0 Followers
- 1,553 Total Posts
- 7 Thanks
Jan 6, 2013Houndmaster posted a message on [Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition] Guardians of the Artifacts- OOC ThreadI edited my app. Again. If someone would read and tell me what's wrong wih it, instead of just saying 'wrong, come back when it's fixed' I'd appreciate it.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Jan 4, 2013Houndmaster posted a message on [Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition] Guardians of the Artifacts- OOC ThreadGrunts, I edited my app. If anything's wrong, please point out what.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Jan 3, 2013Houndmaster posted a message on [Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition] Guardians of the Artifacts- OOC ThreadJust edited my app. Be advised.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Jan 3, 2013Walking along in the hot texan sunlight, I notice a scurrying form, falled by several shambling ones.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Eh, he ain't paying, so frankly I don't care. But there is a stronghold nearby. Maybe… hm.
Orienting myself to follow the ragtag group I set off at a leisurely jog, carbine in hand.
Jan 3, 2013Up to grunts whether I need to change or not.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Jan 2, 2013Yeah, I do.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Jan 2, 2013...Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
DnD 4th edition wiki?
Would it be okay if I edited it to be chaotic neutral and Corellon?
Jan 2, 2013Posted in: Forum RoleplayingQuote from Tangletail
Tumble is under Level 2. We are level 1 X3. It's the only thing you screwed up on from the looks of it.
Ah. Thanks for that.
Jan 2, 2013Kewl RP you have here. Mind if I join?Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
There is a seal. It has food. This makes me happy.
Name: Kyra Ross
Personality: To her, fate means nothing. Death means nothing. Promises, money and honor are the only things she treasures. Screw with her cash? You're dead. Her promises? Six feet under. Her honor? You'll be wishing for death when she's done.
Appearance: 5'9, at about 130 pounds she's pretty skinny. Between her light brown skin, perceptive sky-blue eyes, numerous scars and liquid soaked clothing, she's obviously been in a fight or two. To the power of ten. Her carbine is in a large holster on her right upper thigh, and her shield is generally on her arm.
Skills: Marksmanship (increased accuracy with rifles and carbines), Mercenary's Intuition (Increased chance of locating enemy combatants, Urban Shadow (better at hiding in ruins)
Bio: Kyra was born into the family business. No doubt about that. From before she could read she was shooting rifles and pistols with pa, learning which plants 'll kill and which 'll heal from ma, and being educated on hiding, courtesy uncle Hatcher.
And then she turned eighteen, and found out about the marriage her family had lined up with some jackass Raider king type figure. She's shunted with not a penny to her name, and decides to do what she does best. And if that happens to be a hired gun, so be it.
Starting Equipment: 1 mostly empty back pack, 10 days trail rations, 1 hood shield(metal oval cut from a Cadillac. A bit taller and wider than her chest is), basic improvised revolver carbine, steak knife, gas mask.
Jan 1, 2013I may have screwed up with the character sheet (badly), and I didn't pick a magical item (seeing as I can't think of any), but here's my application. So yeah.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Dec 14, 2012Houndmaster posted a message on The End Of The World As We Know It: A Post Apocalyptic Playground ICARK, Northern WalLPosted in: Forum Roleplaying
"Stop!" An Executioner, armed with a massive two handed sword orders the car, standing in front of it with his weapon's point in the dirt, hands resting one atop the other on the pommel. Fanning out, two to each side, two to the back my fellow guardsmen open each door and the trunk of the car, pointing our weapons in close proximity to the occupant's faces.
"Cargo?" I ask one of them, an older gentleman who sits easy in the car, my finger on the hair trigger.
Ohio Wasteland, 36'th street
I'm running. I'm running as fast as I possibly can at this point. It doesn't even matter any more. We turned a corner, and there they were. At least seventy of them. Jumping onto a car and back off to avoid a massive pothole I look back to find the fastest ones catching up with me. Taking out my silenced autopistol I wildly shoot behind me, a groan and several heavy thumps meaning I hit something. If I can just get to the main road, we've got a checkpoint set up there. If I can just get to the main road…
Dec 13, 2012Houndmaster posted a message on The End Of The World As We Know It: A Post Apocalyptic Playground ICARK, Northern Wall, 4:35 PMPosted in: Forum Roleplaying
The guardsman looks out over the wasteland, five shields emblazoned on his chest plate marking his rank as a simple Guard, the automatic rifle in his hands, parts scavenged from several hulks of wreckage marking him as a warrior, the flag snapping over his head marking his home.
"Chamber a round and hoist the gates! One caravan inbound, twelve people, roughly fifty gallons of water, thirty pounds of food, roughly twelve weapons. Stop them in the Hold!" His superior, an Executioner with twelve scythe decals on his helmet signifying him as a leader of men in wartime, which is basically all the time. Two huge thuds as all the guards stomp in unison, left foot then right on the wall, then a boom akin to thunder as they all shout 'Oo-rah!', the sign for an order received.
"Let's go Harold, time to earn our pay." The man next to him, John, tells him, slapping Harold on the back before sliding down the inside of the wall instead of taking the stairs. Smiling Harold takes the stairs instead, chambering a round and raising his weapon, pointing it at the caravan while in a combat stance, walking to the left side of the van, he got the feeling that something was wrong.
"John, something ain't right…"
"Water break's over. Grab your shotgun and let's cover thirty sixth street." The leader of the group of 10 orders, grabbing his marksman's rifle. Three marksmen, two shotgunners, three machine gunners, one light launcher and him, as scout/melee. Of course, that was secondary weapons. For primaries they all had spears, easier to run with. Nodding Jake gets to his feet, corking his water bottle and putting it in his pack before grabbing his spear, using his left hand to flip up the hood on his metal-bottle-cap chain mail jacket.
"Jake, you first. Followed by shotties, then machine gunners, then me and the other two marksmen. On three.
One." The leader orders. Taking a breath Jake turns the corner and sprints down the street, only to bump into a chaser.
"Damn!" He shouts, swiping it's legs out from underneath it before stabbing it through it's left eye.
"Chasers!" He informs them, tossing his spear like a javelin he nails the other in the chest. Pulling out his automatic pistol he sweeps the street for more. Nothing. That's odd, usually they work in packs of 10-20…
- To post a comment, please login.