Thank you but we are not in a need for testers at the moment.
AGE of CHANGE II :We are RECRUITING - CREATIVE WRITERS WANTED!
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Newb_For_Hire
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Still not in Testing?Zimke Zlovoljni said:
Waldzios does all the testing after coding, so there is no real need for such a thing.
Newb_For_Hire
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Which is fair enough. I do the same....Although half the time I never get past the start up screen..damned Opcodes!Zimke Zlovoljni said:
If you ever need a Scripter though I wouldn't mind lending a hand.
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Hi, guys, I made some (partial conversion) mods for Warband and as for the writing ,well, it's my part time job(becoming full-time sometimes). I have written articles for Historical Magazines (of my country), articles and some essays about various periods of the world's history and currently I am writing a monography(not my first) about Ottoman Empire. If you think I can help your mod, do not hesitate to ask!
ms_ts_2007
Sergeant at Arms
My liege, I am not worthy. Many and more fine fellows heralded their willingness to set forth in this perilous quest your will set upon the realm. I am but a humble scribe, yet amongst my peers, I am considered somewhat of a master. Day in and day out, I pen on parchment words of wisdom, written in the languages of distant kingdoms, yet I pen them in the tongue spoken throughout the vast demesne you so wisely rule with sceptre and sword.
Illuminations I cannot do, for the Creator, in His infinite glory, deemed me unworthy of this skill. But when it comes to the written word, oh, when it comes to that, I can humbly present myself in front of your Magnificence as somewhat skilled and very willing.
Should you decide that you need your words to flow on parchment not with slowness and simplicity fit for the minds of peasants, but with quicksilver clarity fit for lords and scholars, do set upon me this quest, and I shall undertake it for your glory in this age and the ages to come. Your illustrious deeds shall faithfully shine through my words and thy will shall our command.
Illuminations I cannot do, for the Creator, in His infinite glory, deemed me unworthy of this skill. But when it comes to the written word, oh, when it comes to that, I can humbly present myself in front of your Magnificence as somewhat skilled and very willing.
Should you decide that you need your words to flow on parchment not with slowness and simplicity fit for the minds of peasants, but with quicksilver clarity fit for lords and scholars, do set upon me this quest, and I shall undertake it for your glory in this age and the ages to come. Your illustrious deeds shall faithfully shine through my words and thy will shall our command.
Lord Ardor
Recruit
I can definitely help out with creative writing. I literally have notebooks full of short stories and quests that I have written. Inspiration from Tolkien, Beowulf, Hundred Years War Legendarium, etc.
I want to apply,
I have scened for the 'A game of thrones mod' who is still in production (not part of the team anymore)
And i have a creative mind so i perhaps can be a writer?
I speak Dutch and English, 18 years old, and workless so tonns of time! (as long as i enjoy myself)
If i am a valued candidate , please message me rather then respond here.
I have scened for the 'A game of thrones mod' who is still in production (not part of the team anymore)
And i have a creative mind so i perhaps can be a writer?
I speak Dutch and English, 18 years old, and workless so tonns of time! (as long as i enjoy myself)
If i am a valued candidate , please message me rather then respond here.
Stompopolos
Veteran
I would like to help with creative writing. I have no formal writing experience, but fantasy/medieval settings are kind of my deal. I think I'd be best at writing lore, but I'd also be capable of writing notes and dialogue.
Ambivo leaned slowly to his right, and tilted his head to peer around what remained of the stone corner. Smoke rose from the burning houses below, and obscured his view.
Despite this, he began readying his crossbow, scanning what he could see of the alleys and walls for his next target. The besiegers had not bothered to clear the half-ruined tower after it had collapsed on his comrades, leaving him alone, alive to hunt the enemy with the bolts that remained after the assault.
He removed the windlass from the arbalest, and placed a bolt in the groove. Down the street trod three men, each more armoured than the next. He aimed at the best armoured, by whose shield Ambivo recognized a noble. By now, the drop of the steel rod had been nearly ingrained to the crossbowman's mind. He tilted the stock a little higher as they approached below him. He pulled the trigger, and the nut rotated to release the built up pressure on the string and prod, sending the projectile fluttering.
The sound of the firing might have been masked by the ambience of the fighting and flames which burned through the town. The nobleman suddenly roared and sank from his feet as the bolt found its bite within his collar, piercing maille. The other two men immediately rushed to cover the wounded knight with their shields, dragging him out of the open. Ambivo hurried to reload. He hoped they did not discover him. He drew his sword and placed it next to himself, just in case.
Ambivo took a look below once more, seeing nothing in the gloom, but faintly hearing the wounded moans of the nobleman. He crawled back to the other side of the tower, to have his suspicions immediately confirmed, he quickly leveled the arbalest on the two men who were ascending the stairs. They raced towards him, the anger and indignation apparent in their faces as they screamed. Again he pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew true. The first man, probably a sergeant, received a bolt in his unarmoured shin, scraping past the bone, through the calf, and thrusting the head out the other side. His leg buckled under him, and he began crawling forward despite it.
A reload was out of the question, and Ambivo picked up his sword. The young and lightly protected footman threw an overhead haymaker with his falchion, attempting to split the crossbowman's skull. However, Ambivo met his enemy's edge with the flat of his sword, the cleaver sliding down to his strike his crossguard. Then Ambivo thrust the point upwards to the footman's throat, impaling him. The footman retracted the cleaver as he was being killed, and he had enough life in him to finish the next swing. He buried his blade deeply into Ambivo's left arm, with the point of the crossbowman's sword still protruding from his neck. Ambivo found the sensation to be the worst he had ever felt, and cried out loudly. He grit his teeth, and laid the fastly dying man on the stone, all resistance now powerless. Tears slid down the footman's face, blood seeping from his lips, and a gory, wheezing whistle came from the wound.
The crossbowman moved on towards the lamed sergeant who propped himself up against the wall. Ambivo could see only unrestrained contempt in this older man's eyes.
The sergeant raised his sword, pointing it at Ambivo. "That was my son." he said, in the most poisonous tone Ambivo had heard.
The crossbowman uttered a reply: "You will join him soon." Ambivo made patient steps forward, the tip of his sword now able to touch the sergeant's. They stood there for a long moment, watching each the other. Ambivo suddenly threw himself forward, the blades sliding along each other. He had succeeded, and the older man's point was outside of the crossbowman's guard. Ambivo's sword passed into the sergeant's exposed armpit.
Ambivo took the man's sword from his hand, and then dragged him, still dying, next to the corpse of his son. He folded the man's arms, and the older man turned his head to look on his son. The crossbowman reloaded his crossbow, and proceeded down the stairs of the tower. He carefully moved over to where the trio had first taken cover, and sitting in the alley was the nobleman.
He was still alive, and sat there almost motionless, staring. Ambivo bandaged his wound.
"I am sorry," said the crossbowman. The knight did not reply, but looked up. The sky was dark, and smoky, the rare star faintly glimmering.
Despite this, he began readying his crossbow, scanning what he could see of the alleys and walls for his next target. The besiegers had not bothered to clear the half-ruined tower after it had collapsed on his comrades, leaving him alone, alive to hunt the enemy with the bolts that remained after the assault.
He removed the windlass from the arbalest, and placed a bolt in the groove. Down the street trod three men, each more armoured than the next. He aimed at the best armoured, by whose shield Ambivo recognized a noble. By now, the drop of the steel rod had been nearly ingrained to the crossbowman's mind. He tilted the stock a little higher as they approached below him. He pulled the trigger, and the nut rotated to release the built up pressure on the string and prod, sending the projectile fluttering.
The sound of the firing might have been masked by the ambience of the fighting and flames which burned through the town. The nobleman suddenly roared and sank from his feet as the bolt found its bite within his collar, piercing maille. The other two men immediately rushed to cover the wounded knight with their shields, dragging him out of the open. Ambivo hurried to reload. He hoped they did not discover him. He drew his sword and placed it next to himself, just in case.
Ambivo took a look below once more, seeing nothing in the gloom, but faintly hearing the wounded moans of the nobleman. He crawled back to the other side of the tower, to have his suspicions immediately confirmed, he quickly leveled the arbalest on the two men who were ascending the stairs. They raced towards him, the anger and indignation apparent in their faces as they screamed. Again he pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew true. The first man, probably a sergeant, received a bolt in his unarmoured shin, scraping past the bone, through the calf, and thrusting the head out the other side. His leg buckled under him, and he began crawling forward despite it.
A reload was out of the question, and Ambivo picked up his sword. The young and lightly protected footman threw an overhead haymaker with his falchion, attempting to split the crossbowman's skull. However, Ambivo met his enemy's edge with the flat of his sword, the cleaver sliding down to his strike his crossguard. Then Ambivo thrust the point upwards to the footman's throat, impaling him. The footman retracted the cleaver as he was being killed, and he had enough life in him to finish the next swing. He buried his blade deeply into Ambivo's left arm, with the point of the crossbowman's sword still protruding from his neck. Ambivo found the sensation to be the worst he had ever felt, and cried out loudly. He grit his teeth, and laid the fastly dying man on the stone, all resistance now powerless. Tears slid down the footman's face, blood seeping from his lips, and a gory, wheezing whistle came from the wound.
The crossbowman moved on towards the lamed sergeant who propped himself up against the wall. Ambivo could see only unrestrained contempt in this older man's eyes.
The sergeant raised his sword, pointing it at Ambivo. "That was my son." he said, in the most poisonous tone Ambivo had heard.
The crossbowman uttered a reply: "You will join him soon." Ambivo made patient steps forward, the tip of his sword now able to touch the sergeant's. They stood there for a long moment, watching each the other. Ambivo suddenly threw himself forward, the blades sliding along each other. He had succeeded, and the older man's point was outside of the crossbowman's guard. Ambivo's sword passed into the sergeant's exposed armpit.
Ambivo took the man's sword from his hand, and then dragged him, still dying, next to the corpse of his son. He folded the man's arms, and the older man turned his head to look on his son. The crossbowman reloaded his crossbow, and proceeded down the stairs of the tower. He carefully moved over to where the trio had first taken cover, and sitting in the alley was the nobleman.
He was still alive, and sat there almost motionless, staring. Ambivo bandaged his wound.
"I am sorry," said the crossbowman. The knight did not reply, but looked up. The sky was dark, and smoky, the rare star faintly glimmering.
walruschavalry
Recruit
ms_ts_2007 said:
What I thought before reading this: I think my writing isn't too bad
What I thought after reading this: Why am I not good at anything
