the greatest general under the heavens
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Post by Egao, Egao Everywhere on Apr 22, 2014 23:47:08 GMT -8
Yep. Some of us have been rping for a while, some way before they should be registering accounts in proboards. Why not share one of your posts waaay back and the posts you have today? I was going to unearth something way back in 2004 but the board was just turned offline, so have something 2008 instead. 14-year-old me The feeling as if he had achieved something big bounded on the Trainer who finally reached the first town in his adventure. It took surprisingly only a couple of minutes then when the Pidgeot had traveled down the gray clouds and descended with its usual grace to the town of Gurby. The smell of coming back again to where humans like him actually belonged made Joshua much lighter. He always had the liking for the forests but it seemed as if he had stayed there for too long and he had then long dreamed of returning to civilization where there were people and Pokemon along living by the shelters of houses, working in buildings, and walking down the streets where they interact to one another. Still, the marks of the forest he had ventured and strolled was still evitable. The population in Gurby was not so massive where skyscraper where racing to the heavens like the Tower of Babylon in every corner and direction. On contrary, there were a lot of trees around, explaining perhaps the smell of the nice, cool breeze in their descending. Joshua tightened his grip on the bag, somehow feeling something big coming his way and he was again, thrilled with this.
"Erinyes," he said dreamily, starring at the town. "We're here."
It was very short, not even more than three words but the Skarmory had understood very well and more than words can she put it up. She could feel the same sensation of thrill now even though she was about to again abandon free flying and back with the land critters once more but it did not matter. She and her Trainer was about to explore another place and something was fated to come in their way. The place didn't make Erinyes suspicious. She felt it would be quite a nice place and a bit safer this time unlike a forest where dangerous Pokemon lay about anywhere. Instead, the town appeared to her much of a friendly place. It was really...nice for a change.
"Ready, Chloe?" Joshua asked, turning to the girl sideways. 20-year-old me Keith waited in silence and said nothing in reply. His gaze remained straight on the distance, his face having turned impassive and unreadable. The hand the held the decisive knife remained firm, but - just ever so slightly - the fingers twitched . . .
Soldier Blue turned and began to walk away. So it seemed he really didn't come here to kill Keith. What a strange man. It was true that vengeance had no purpose in the end. It was foolish, but the act itself was never evil. One could claim it to be justice.
And Keith recognized such justice was something that was long overdue, something that he had been searching for. But it never succeeded as he thought it would. It came at the price of someone else's life.
He watched Soldier Blue walk away with nothing but his foo. Before he could leave, Keith spoke up in a loud, clear voice that echoed down the ruined hallway, as firm as the steps Soldier Blue made.
"So you're just drifting from place to place, just as you've always had. How pathetic. You're like a ghost forever in search of a resting place. You Mu's have such long lives you can leisurely waste your time away. You cannot adapt to change, because you're so hung up on the past while us humans have to face the reality of starting anew and fresh if we're ever to move forward." Keith stared at Soldier's Blue's form with a pair of steadfast green eyes.
"You've finally reached a land you can call home. Haven't you always desired it? 'Terra?' But I get the feeling of aimlessness from you. There's more than one way to be lost." Keith closed his eyes in quiet acknowledgement. "Don't let this chance slip away. He worked hard for your happiness - up until the very end." I was more imaginative and fluid when I was younger, but I definitely worked on my grammar and run-on's better over the years xD embarrassingly, I've always made a typo with "starring" instead of "staring" until last year c8;;;; |
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Post by Siren on May 3, 2014 12:52:44 GMT -8
14 -year-old Siren's stilted and unnatural roleplay style which consisted of a lot of irrelevant detail and lots of monologuing. It was a small apartment. There was only a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and finally a small area that was made into a living room. But despite it's small size, the apartment was well furnished and completely filled; Rin made sure that no space was empty. This held true for the walls, too; every inch of the walls were covered in paintings, photographs, and decorations. The apartment gave off a cozy, warm feeling to most people due to the dark, muted colors of the walls and furniture. Rin absolutely hated bright colors; they were an eyesore to her.
Upon entering it, the blond shinobi was relieved to find that her roommate was not home. Apparently, the girl had left to go shopping and would not return until tomorrow afternoon. At least, that was what the note on the refridgerator told her.
"I'm glad you like it," She said from the kitchen, searching for something to drink. "And fun? I don't know. I usually spend time swimming or running—you know, training and all that. If I can't do either, then I sculpt; there's some things I made on the table."
It was true, the woman honestly had no life beyond those activities. She very few friends and none at all if one didn't count her roommate and former teammates. But, this didn't bother her at all, for she liked solitude.
Still rummaging through her kitchen, she asked, "So, would you like anything to eat? To drink? There's some tea, coffee, and I think there's some wine in there somewhere..."
In that instant, Rin had created a brilliant plan to get rid of Kira, well, at least that was what she thought. She decided to get the man drunk. Then, in his drunken stupor, she would usher him out the door, into some forest (Did Kirigakure even have a forest?), and then leave him there. Smiling to herself, the blonde woman grabbed the bottle of wine, which was in fact her roommate's, and placed it onto the counter. Humming, she grabbed two glasses from a cupboard and put those onto the counter as well.
Although Rin had only drank alcohol once, during that mission to the Sand Village, she planned to drink slowly, so that she wouldn't get drunk as well.
Still smiling, Rin believed that the plan was fool proof. There would be no fighting, no arguing and best of all, she wouldn't even have to tell the Mizukage about it. She could just forget everything the next morning.
"Kira!" She called, her voice cheerful. "Come in the Kitchen, please!"
SO MUCH INNER DIALOGUE AND SO LITTLE ACTUAL INTERACTION SHOOT ME THROUGH THE HEART RN SO I WON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS MESS. 16-year-old Siren's roleplay style which still had a lot of monologuing and ramblings, but whose dialogue seems a tad more natural. The faint call of Pterodactyls echoed through out the area, permeating the still silence of the air. A lanky, fair-skinned brunette emerged from the brush, her legs scratched from the thorny branches that crossed her path. Red and puffy scratches marred her arms and legs and droplets of blood began to seep from the small cuts. But, the woman made no move to tend to her wounds. All that concerned her was one thing and one thing only - finding Zenjirou. Though weary from a long day of travel, the Italian woman pushed on in search of the demented man, her thin lips pressed together in an uncharacteristic scowl. With hardened eyes, the woman scanned the area, but found only trees and even more vegetation. She let out an exasperated sigh and decided to turn back to camp. It was nearing nightfall already, and the sky was already a wash of reds, oranges, and pinks. At the sight of it, Aria's expression softened slightly before growing rigid once more.
"Idiot," she muttered, letting out a long string of Italian curses as she remembered the white-haired psychopath.
After he had killed Justin Werth, the cyborg's brother, Zenjirou had begun to express a rather drastic change in behavior; he seemed to be more human, more sympathetic. Aria scoffed, amused by the prospect of a more 'human' Zenjirou. The very notion of it seemed absurd to Aria, laughable even. In her eyes, there were no 'second chances'. If you lost your humanity once, there's no way of getting it back. There was no chance at humanity again. Zenjirou lost his, and she was certain that there was no possibility of him becoming 'human' anytime soon. What was so special about that Justin kid, anyways? The Italian had seen the psychopath kill others before without a remorse. Why would he care now?
As she let out a tired yawn, the brunette idly stretched her arms and legs, stiff from traveling. As she did so, the cuts on her body began to sting, though the woman paid no mind to it. Getting minor scrapes and bruises were no longer uncommon for her, and she had learned to deal with it. It was natural for the woman to walk around with a few gashes here and there. As long as she had a few of Zenjirou's herbal plants to rub in the cuts to prevent infection, she'd be fine.
However, the woman halted her stretching, her body frozen in place as a sudden realization hit her.
She was dependent on the white-haired psychopath, no matter how much she tried to deny this fact.
The scowl returned to her face as she attempted to shrug off her disgust at this. She wasn't like her mother nor that sad excuse for a woman, Nadine. The very mention of the blue-haired Frenchwoman left a bitter aftertaste on Aria's tongue. She was the very epitome of what Aria hated. A spineless, cowardly woman who needed a man to protect her. As the brunette reflected on the most recent encounter with Nadine, she laughed, vaguely recalling the crushed look on the Frenchwoman's face as the Italian quite literally beat the sense into the blue-haired girl's head. Aria wondered what had happened to Nadine since their last encounter.
"Did she die?" the woman mused aloud, entertained by the thought of it. She could only wish it'd happen.
After taking a short break from hiking, the woman decided to take a drink from her canister that she had brought along. However, upon opening the container, she was disappointed to realize that she had drank it all. She turned it upside down, placing her palm underneath it to catch any spare drops. Only a few drops of water had fallen onto her palm, though that was obviously not enough to quench her thirst. With a groan, Aria closed the container and looked around the area for any streams or rivers. The way back to camp was pretty far off from where she was at, and she didn't want to risk the chance of spending the night in the jungle without any water. Who knows what she could need it for?
Aria's eyes scanned the area as she attempted to pick out any sounds of rushing water. After a few moments, the female was able to discern the slightest audible sound of rushing water in the distance. Although somewhat uncertain if she had indeed heard it, the woman decided it was either now or never.
As she approached the source, the sound of rushing water grow progressively louder. With a triumphant smirk, Aria raced on, confident. However, as the approached the origin of the noise, she was shocked to find an enormous waterfall. And, in the middle of it stood the very person she was searching for.
"Zenjirou, you idiot!" the woman howled, annoyed with his sudden leave.
However, upon closer inspection, she saw that he was edging closer towards the fall. Despite her lack of knowledge on nature and wildlife, she knew that rushing under a waterfall as large as this one would surely mean death by drowning.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" she called, hoping her voice would reach over the loud sound of the waterfall.
^^^^^^^ SAME PROBLEM 17-year-old Siren's roleplaying style which still consists of monologuing, but to a lesser degree. More emphasis on relevant detail and whatnot, but I'm still pretty iffy about it. The brunette yawned, mumbling to herself about the various tasks she had to do that day as she continued towards her destination. Gotta check some shit, be at some shit... The long string of curses continued in her mind, as she dragged one foot on front of the other. Her eyes half-lidded, and her body finally giving away to exhaustion, Yumeko considered turning back briefly so that she could go back to her apartment and perhaps rest there. She rubbed her eyes and briefly contemplated this for a while, her eyebrows knitting together as she ventured on, resembling closely to a homeless person - a well-dressed homeless person? - as she walked.
Thankfully, she heard someone call her name from a distance, which pulled her out of her train of thoughts before she could fall into a ditch or something equally ridiculous.
Unfortunately, however, it was a voice all too familiar.
Shit, it's someone I know. Absolute fucking- She fought the urge to chuck the bottle of whiskey in her hand behind her, and instead settled to pose rigidly in what she believed to be mature, composed... Yeah, she didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Elegance didn't really suit her at all, and she was too out of it in the first place to even try to half-ass it. Looked like she was just going to have to roll with it. Yumeko forced a smile - more like a slasher grin, really - as she approached the figure in the distance in her half-staggering walk. With her hair left mussed and her outfit from last night still crumpled (okay, so she didn't change out of her clothes, big whoop), she was hard on the eyes, although at least her face was pretty free of any mar-
She glanced down at her hands.
"Well, shit." Her hands were tinged gray and black. Right, she was wearing a face full of make-up yesterday, which included eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner. Oh, well. It looked like she was part raccoon now. She'd always wanted to try out smokey eyes, anyhow.
If anyone asked, her appearance was apart of the Carnvale. She'd say she volunteered to be the human raccoon. Or, some shit like that. It didn't really matter. Hurriedly wiping her hands on her dark skirt, she smiled broadly as she squinted at the approaching - oh, wait, she was walking towards him, too - man. Her eyes zoomed in on the poofy dress and mop of blue hair. Huh. The last time she checked, she wasn't acquainted with such a person of high class. Wait, was that supposed to be some fancy dress? It wasn't like she was acquainted with the rules of upper class etiquette. After all, she did come from a farm. She didn't know jack shit about social customs aside from the fact that the five-finger rule didn't apply when the floor hasn't been cleaned in weeks (e.g. the school cafeteria).
But upon closer inspection, she realized that it was none other than her fellow teacher and childhood friend, Emil, dressed in drag.
She gawked at him for several moments, her mouth slightly agape as her grip on the wine bottle loosened considerably and slowly but surely fell from her hand, shattering as it hit the pavement.
"Well, don't you look pretty?" she struggled to remain composed, and the corners of her mouth remain tugged upwards despite her attempts to maintain a neutral face. "You know, you never struck me as the type who would cross dress, but you do look good in it!"
At the man's inquiries, however, Yumeko snorted, attempting to play it off. "Uh, well, I just woke up early and thought to myself 'Today's a great day to go to the Carneval!' This is a rare opportunity, you know? Just can't let it pass by me." looking back on this, i think i improved somewhat, but i still need to work on including less irrelevant detail and whatnot. maybe also need to work on making my posts more personal? the tone seems really detached. |
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A seadog looking for crewmates
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Post by Elena on May 4, 2014 7:38:50 GMT -8
My first RPG post, dated August 2009:
Marina entered the church respectfully, making the sign of the cross with two fingers, as taught by nuns. She was longing for the comfort of His holy house… to talk with God at length, the way she used to while in the monastery. And which could be the best way to start her first thorough visit of Kingston town, than thanking God for all His blessings… promotion included?
She loved smelling the familiar scent of a church, wax and incense, and admiring the light filtered through the vitralia in rainbow shades - or stained glass windows, as she had heared some people call them.
She was unconsciously trying to indentify the statue of Virgin Mary when she caught the glimpse of a tall priest with dark hair and pale face, looking questioningly at the young sailor he was seeing before him.
Well, it was to be expected, every church has at least one priest!
“I’m here only to talk with God”, she answered bluntly to his questioning gaze, then she focused on the surroundings, feeling alone with God, irrespective that the church was not empty.
It did not matter to her that the church was not Catholic – she was taught when little that every church one can find in a port is God’s House, and that as long as you pray earnestly and devoutedly to Him, He will hear. Her father was Orthodox, like all Greeks, and, if her Venetian mother was undoubtly Catholic, Marina knew for sure she was Christian and nothing more. She knew her parents had a Catholic wedding on an island belonging to the Serenissima Reppubblica, but she wasn’t sure if her brother and she were christened in the Orthodox or in the Catholic rite. As far as she knew her parents, it would have been the first church they saw when ashore. And as much as the Catholic nuns tried to innoculate in her hate towards all the “heretics”, as they used to call Protestants and Orthodoxes and everybody else, they hadn’t succeed. “Why hate them if they worship the same God? Only because they do it differently? God can read their minds and know who is sincere in his faith and who isn’t!”
As there weren’t any statues in this church, and even fewer icons than in an Orthodox one, she kneeled in front of the cross above the altar, at a distance, and started praying without words, staring at the stained glass window:
“Thank you God for helping me in that storm… and saving the ship! Rather, if I am grateful to you, I’m first because you made me remember how to properly perform “pendalfa”… and once the ship out of danger by Your mercy… thanks for my promotion too! Please help me prove everybody I am worth of it… and keep on protecting me and my secret! You know why I am doing it, God, so please read my soul and forgive my sins! Send Your guardian angel to protect me… and please grant us victory against pirates! If I must pay this victory with my life, so be it, Your way… but if it’s not my death at young age You have written in the big book high there… it’s only You I have, and all my all faith is on You to accomplish my destiny!”
She added some more thanks for every joy she received, then ended her prayer, as always, with: “Please, protect Your servant Brendan Fergus wherever he is!”.
She never forgot praying for the one who saved her from the hungry sea storm which took her family and ship, the one who did not leave on the streets a 14 years old girl, alone in an unknown land, but placed her in a monastery, with a gentle prioress…
It seemed that the priest’s eyes were still on her when she stood up. Well, people generally come to church to talk to a priest – how would this one know that the sailor boy he was seeing was not an Anglican, first of all, and not familiar with their customs?
Of course she didn’t need any priest and she couldn’t make any confession – lying to a priest and especially in confessional would be among the most severe sins… and how could she not lie from the first moment when asked the name? She has been Martin Costa the sailor boy for nearly two years… and until now, it has been working. Well, she will have her absolution from God only and from none of His ministers on earth!
But as the priest was watching her, her thoughts ran another way and she asked shyly:
"Tell me, father, do you use to say prayers for the dead? May I give you a list?"
Her deceased parents deserve a memorial from time to time…
And my latest one:
Elouan had seen from the rigging the dog’s attempts to save the man he hated the most, and he silently prayed to God not to let it happen.
Jacque Gasquet was trying his best to swim and remain alive, hoping that somebody would throw him a rope or something. He was tired and in pain, as the Breton had strong fists and the boatswain had always been accustomed to give deadly blows, not to receive them. Not to mention the way he fell from the rigging, as the waves had their own way to show they didn’t like him either. He was struggling; his body focused instinctively on survival, and his mind giving only now and then conscious flashes of coherent thoughts.
But when he saw the big dog next to him, nearly catching him, he had never thought that the dog wanted to save him. No, his unstable mind now associated him with the dogs used to catch slaves – the “living ebony” harvest he had transported and sold successfully in his youth, making the fortune the King had confiscated from him later, when nearly taking his life as well.
This was, in his opinion, either a vicious dog ready to bite him and kill him on the spot, or a dog coming after him, to hunt him like the slaves had been hunted… and to make him pay for everything he had done. When the dog went away, he thought he would survive; but when it returned, the former slaver captain Jacque Gasquet was convinced the destiny was after him. He felt suddenly a strong headache and it got all black around him. He could hear the dog’s noisy breath, but he couldn’t see it anymore, he only imagined it ready to get him – alive or execute him with a deadly bite.
Then, the boatswain known aboard “Le Phenix” under the name of Jacques Fresne lost consciousness and fell into the depth of the ocean forever.
Still a Christian deep in his heart, Elouan made the sign of the cross, saying in his thoughts ”Requiescat in pacem!” For him, like for many others, this was a way not to actually pray for his enemy’s soul, but rather not to come back as a ghost to haunt the one who had pushed him to meet his end.
He couldn’t see what had happened to Lieutenant Forrestier, but he heard enough to get an idea. He was looking with hope at the doctor… but if he could have done anything for Little Fish, he would have. Therefore, Elouan clinged to the shroud next to him, took a deep breath and he made the effort to continue his work. As if he could work... As the anger started diminishing with Jacques Fresne’s death, the realization of what he had done was coming to him. And not only what he had done – he kept hearing an angry mob on the deck.
Benoit was quicker to descend on the deck and join the revenge against the boatswain’s mates – all three followers of Jacques Fresne were now judged by the crowd and ready to be lynched. Elouan pondered if to get down too or to keep his position, and he opted to remain where his watch required him to be.
Jean and Fernand had been caught in the turmoil around the third lieutenant. Now that they had seen the revenge against the two men they hated the most, the boatswain and the third lieutenant, they could let the boatswain’s mates escape with a good beating.
”Aubry is right,” Jean said. ”Too much blood had been spilled already. Bosun Fresne is dead, the lieutenant is dead. These three lads had been groomed by the bosun to be like him. They have done their share of misdeeds… upon his orders. Don’t you look at this one?” he hit Antoine with the top of his shoe. ”Now that he had lost his protector, how much is he worth? Begging for mercy! Let’s tan their hide and let them go. Only have a taste of the medicine they had been widely offering us.”
Opinions got split here – some approved, some didn’t. The rumour increased, and some of the men were following the advice and using the boatswain’s mates as punch bags. Fernand was among them. He had accumulated too much anger today.
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A seadog looking for crewmates
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Post by Elena on May 4, 2014 7:40:08 GMT -8
maybe also need to work on making my posts more personal? the tone seems really detached. Siren, detached is good. It is the objective writer who narrates the story. <3 |
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MOTHER OF THE MAGICAL GIRLS
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Post by SIFR on May 4, 2014 13:29:04 GMT -8
Oh my god, Tanz, don't make me dig back 12 years.
(Joking... kind of. I'll post a real reply when I get home.)
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Post by beekeeper on May 4, 2014 13:32:55 GMT -8
how do you guys even find posts from that far back
edit: i have 666 posts
im never posting again
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MOTHER OF THE MAGICAL GIRLS
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Post by SIFR on May 4, 2014 21:46:46 GMT -8
AHAHAHAHA. Welp. I found comparisons between the same character. You ready for my terribleness?
November 18, 2007
November 11, 2013
WITNESS MY SHAME. |
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the greatest general under the heavens
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Post by Egao, Egao Everywhere on May 4, 2014 23:30:50 GMT -8
Konnichiwa
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Five years ago, the Pokemon League formed Lux to create a new world order of peace and harmony. A rebellion formed, under the name of Nox, cries tyranny at Lux's new microcosmic control. Their civil war now tears the Pokemon world apart. The world hangs in the balance of predormitum. Which side will you choose?
is a high stakes RP set in a dystopian Russian society recovering from an apocalyptic war between the armies of Heaven and Hell. Greater Russia now stands free from the influence of God and the Devil, and all non-humans run the risk of execution. Outside the safe zones lies the contained wasteland of Moscow, where demons and mutated shadowbeasts continue to terrorize the remaining human survivors who have been penned in with them. As of late, increasing evangelic disturbances threaten the peace that has ruthlessly maintained by the secret police.
