Hey, guys! Sorry-- no response today like I planned. I will be getting a post up on Monday after my honey moon.
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@McHaggis No worries-- thanks for letting me know!
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Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
Has anyone ever been in a situation where, due to lack of support from your fellow players, you are unsure of whether or not something you are taking issue with in a particular roleplay is actually a problem or more of a matter of opinion? Like, say, the wording of someone's post.
I have recently found myself in such a predicament where I feel the only way to feel satisfied is to lay the story out for some third parties to judge so I may obtain reassurance from fellow experienced roleplayers that I am not crazy and it's seriously a problem.
I'm at the point where I have tried voicing my concerns, but it's only landed me in a discouraging loop. One where which my questions are left unanswered and my frustration only grows. I am not one that conscientiously quits roleplays for reasons such as this and I worked very hard on my character and don't want to let his light go out because of problem like this, but... ugh. I need help.
I know it's petty, but it's literally driving me mad.
I have recently found myself in such a predicament where I feel the only way to feel satisfied is to lay the story out for some third parties to judge so I may obtain reassurance from fellow experienced roleplayers that I am not crazy and it's seriously a problem.
I'm at the point where I have tried voicing my concerns, but it's only landed me in a discouraging loop. One where which my questions are left unanswered and my frustration only grows. I am not one that conscientiously quits roleplays for reasons such as this and I worked very hard on my character and don't want to let his light go out because of problem like this, but... ugh. I need help.
I know it's petty, but it's literally driving me mad.
As the path turned, Abel glanced over his shoulder. Squinting, he saw Steven staring up into the sun with his lips moving. Strangely enough, he seemed very non-disoriented from the glitter dust that had been all but thrown into his eyes and the random chinchilla appearance. He didn't even seem the slightest bit surprised, in fact. He just stood there. Talking.
Of course, with the wind being so strong and the distance between them, he couldn't make out a word of it. If Steven had wanted to reply, he surely would have raised his voice so Abel could actually hear it. Either way, staring at the sun couldn't be good on glitter dusted eyes. He mentally noted that Steven must be magically impervious to surprises, as well as temporary vision impairment. He also mentally noted that Steven must be one of those people that obnoxiously talks to themselves for no reason and tried to lighten his mood by imagining what the kid might be saying.
"It's okay, Steven. You have your piss buddy and that's all that matters. And boy-- did you see that summon? That was sure impressive. He whipped it out really fast! I should compliment him on his summoning skills sometime--"
His inward joking was stopped short and his jaw literally dropped as he watched the human turn around and start marching back towards the others.
"BLOODY HELL!" he cursed, throwing his hands up in the air. The idiot is more fickle than a woman in love!
He continued on his way to the village in search of a pub, now filled with even more frustration than before.
Of course, with the wind being so strong and the distance between them, he couldn't make out a word of it. If Steven had wanted to reply, he surely would have raised his voice so Abel could actually hear it. Either way, staring at the sun couldn't be good on glitter dusted eyes. He mentally noted that Steven must be magically impervious to surprises, as well as temporary vision impairment. He also mentally noted that Steven must be one of those people that obnoxiously talks to themselves for no reason and tried to lighten his mood by imagining what the kid might be saying.
"It's okay, Steven. You have your piss buddy and that's all that matters. And boy-- did you see that summon? That was sure impressive. He whipped it out really fast! I should compliment him on his summoning skills sometime--"
His inward joking was stopped short and his jaw literally dropped as he watched the human turn around and start marching back towards the others.
"BLOODY HELL!" he cursed, throwing his hands up in the air. The idiot is more fickle than a woman in love!
He continued on his way to the village in search of a pub, now filled with even more frustration than before.
@lydyn Ah. It's not a very common thing-- at least where I'm from. So you'll have to excuse my naivetรฉ... haha.
Also-- to the Jeorva group-- I lied. I went ahead and posted it tonight.
Also-- to the Jeorva group-- I lied. I went ahead and posted it tonight.
The orc's head had been bent over slightly as he made a face that was perhaps meant to be a smile at the maiden he held like a large rag doll in his arm. The orc's long, pointed ears seemed to twitch as the sharp tip of Brande's sword touched him. The orc straightened up and the thick gray skin on the back of his neck pressed harmlessly into the sword's point for a moment before he turned his head. A pair of large, yellow eyes with black irises stared down at Brande-- more confused than angry.
"This yours?" The orc asked, turning to face Brande and effortlessly dragging the woman through the air as she yelped. A second, slightly smaller orc came into view then-- a more greenish tinge to his skin and a flat, smashed looking nose.
"Girl is rude. Wastes food," he said clucked gruffly. It then became apparent that the orc had what appeared to be a large, rotten tomato sliding down the front of his shiny metal armor. Once upon a time, it would have been laughable to consider the image of an orc in such fine suit-- especially with a food all over it. But the past 60 years had been good to their race-- so good that it would be more appropriate to gasp at the tomato rather than laugh.
The orc "smiled" back at the woman, stroking his chin with a large, meaty gray hand, "Want be Varfu's bed woman to say sorry?"
"No!" the woman's eyes filled with horror and her eyes, with tears, "I'm sorry, Varfu! It won't happen again!" She seemed to be in her late teens with long auburn hair and a pretty, pointed face. A sling shot lay at her dangling feet, making the painted picture of her red-handed guilt all the clearer. She screamed yet another foolhardy 'please' and the gap in the crowd seemed to widen. This was not a situation that many people were interested in being involved with.
The second orc said something in their native language and Varfu nodded. "10 gold pieces or--" he reached his free arm behind his back and drew a large battle axe, "Zanna loses throwing arm. Varfu offers this deal for mercy. Up to you, human man."
"Young lady!" a gray-haired old man in a somewhat tattered brown suit was stomping down the hallway towards Elspeth, his wrinkly lips pursed with discontent, "You're making a damnable mess of the entrance hall, you ignorant child!" The mans voice carried through the spacious halls.
His finger trembled almost as badly as his toad croak of a voice as he pointed his finger down one of the hallways, "You march yourself right to the janitors closet and clean up this mess. And you can expect I'll be speaking to the Dean about this! Don't think I won't contact your parents either!"
"Move it!"
"Watch where you're going!"
"Hey!"
The cries of discontent drew more and more near until it was too late for Raine to realize she was standing directly in the escape path of a boy clutching a strange unmarked bag. The two tumbled to the marketplace floor-- everything happened very quickly then.
The boy kneeling before her with one hand on his head and one hand still gripping the bag and supporting his weight had disheveled auburn hair and sharp features. He seemed to be not much older than Raine. His green eyes flashed with anger for a moment before filling with urgent fear.
"Stop that kid! He's a thief!" a man's voice yelled in the close distance.
"Quick!" he whispered sharply, "Under here! Please!" He dove beneath a curtained market stall, motioning for her to follow. He held out his free hand with the intent of pulling her behind the curtain as quickly as possible.
"Help! Thief!" the voice called, drawing dangerously near.
It was apparent that the slightest hesitation would result in it being to late. If she was going to move-- she had to do it fast and she had to do it now.
"This yours?" The orc asked, turning to face Brande and effortlessly dragging the woman through the air as she yelped. A second, slightly smaller orc came into view then-- a more greenish tinge to his skin and a flat, smashed looking nose.
"Girl is rude. Wastes food," he said clucked gruffly. It then became apparent that the orc had what appeared to be a large, rotten tomato sliding down the front of his shiny metal armor. Once upon a time, it would have been laughable to consider the image of an orc in such fine suit-- especially with a food all over it. But the past 60 years had been good to their race-- so good that it would be more appropriate to gasp at the tomato rather than laugh.
The orc "smiled" back at the woman, stroking his chin with a large, meaty gray hand, "Want be Varfu's bed woman to say sorry?"
"No!" the woman's eyes filled with horror and her eyes, with tears, "I'm sorry, Varfu! It won't happen again!" She seemed to be in her late teens with long auburn hair and a pretty, pointed face. A sling shot lay at her dangling feet, making the painted picture of her red-handed guilt all the clearer. She screamed yet another foolhardy 'please' and the gap in the crowd seemed to widen. This was not a situation that many people were interested in being involved with.
The second orc said something in their native language and Varfu nodded. "10 gold pieces or--" he reached his free arm behind his back and drew a large battle axe, "Zanna loses throwing arm. Varfu offers this deal for mercy. Up to you, human man."
"Young lady!" a gray-haired old man in a somewhat tattered brown suit was stomping down the hallway towards Elspeth, his wrinkly lips pursed with discontent, "You're making a damnable mess of the entrance hall, you ignorant child!" The mans voice carried through the spacious halls.
His finger trembled almost as badly as his toad croak of a voice as he pointed his finger down one of the hallways, "You march yourself right to the janitors closet and clean up this mess. And you can expect I'll be speaking to the Dean about this! Don't think I won't contact your parents either!"
"Move it!"
"Watch where you're going!"
"Hey!"
The cries of discontent drew more and more near until it was too late for Raine to realize she was standing directly in the escape path of a boy clutching a strange unmarked bag. The two tumbled to the marketplace floor-- everything happened very quickly then.
The boy kneeling before her with one hand on his head and one hand still gripping the bag and supporting his weight had disheveled auburn hair and sharp features. He seemed to be not much older than Raine. His green eyes flashed with anger for a moment before filling with urgent fear.
"Stop that kid! He's a thief!" a man's voice yelled in the close distance.
"Quick!" he whispered sharply, "Under here! Please!" He dove beneath a curtained market stall, motioning for her to follow. He held out his free hand with the intent of pulling her behind the curtain as quickly as possible.
"Help! Thief!" the voice called, drawing dangerously near.
It was apparent that the slightest hesitation would result in it being to late. If she was going to move-- she had to do it fast and she had to do it now.
Congratulations!
You have been nominated and are cordially invited to join us for dinner at the enclosed location so we may discuss your eligibility.
Please understand that this is a private invitation. It is of the utmost importance regarding your own safety that you not share this information with anyone.
The Blue Sight
P.S. Wear the scarf.
The words on the wealthy cream parchment were written in a deep blue colored ink. A parcel tied with a blue ribbon contained a fine blue scarf with a gold insignia matching the one at the top of the note. The symbol resembled the head of a panther with blue sapphire eyes. A smaller note containing the time and address was carefully pinned to the fabric-- a location in the richer part of Jeorvo.
Who had delivered it and exactly why were, as of now, a mystery. Perhaps it was delivered by mistake?
Regardless of it's origin, the decision to attend is made.
A young boy from the village handed the note and parcel to Elise Callan while she was at the academy library. The little whelp couldn't remember the appearance of the stranger who'd paid him to hand it to her, though. He scampered off gleefully gripping the gold piece he'd been given in both hands, his task complete.
A man in a fine blue suit stood before the abode of Sir Isaac Dorovich, holding the parcel and note out to him with delicate grace. "I'm sorry, sir. That information is confidential," he nodded apologetically when asked about the sender, "Now, if you'll excuse me." He bowed politely before returning to the horse drawn carriage from whence he came.
The note and parcel lay on the pillow of James Terna, placed there by his father. Some child from the village had dropped it off, saying some lady paid him to deliver it. Of course, upon reading the note, any suspicions of it being from a secret admirer seemed to dissipate.
That was two weeks ago.
With the night of promise at hand, the address lead to a mansion on the outskirts of the wealthy district of Jeorvo. The mansion is on a very large estate-- gated and well guarded, to boot. A large fountain and beautiful garden welcome visitors to the massive oak doors, which are attended by two doormen in blue vests, the same shade as the scarves. It becomes immediately apparent that quite a few other people were 'nominated'.
Past the doors is an elegant waiting room, or perhaps a lounge. Several different people wait and gather there, some wearing the scarves proudly around their neck while others hold theirs timidly, as if it were a deceased child and they were tragically searching for it's owner. Overall, there seem to be close to one hundred nominees, all from numerous different backgrounds. Some butlers in vests identical to the doormen walk casually throughout the crowd, offering fine hors d'oeuvres and drinks.
The room itself is simply decorated for such a large room. Some chairs and couches with blue fabric cushions are placed throughout the room along with a few tall plants in expensive blue vases. Aside from one massive painting of the same panther symbol on the note, the walls are adorned with several debonair mirrors of varying shapes and sizes. The panther looms over the gathering of nominees with it's cool sapphire eyes, just above the large oak doors at the end of the room.
I'll have my post up tomorrow. Just finished getting moved in at my new place.
Whew. Alright. Computer is finally set up along with most of my room. Combining two people into one life is hard, kids. Keep that in mind if you ever get married. Anyways, I'm going to try and get this post up tonight.
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