Dinh AaronMk

Beneath our Two Suns

I shot them all a mass message but no responses have turned up.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

@Space Communist

Also since you're still here (supposedly) and on Mexico: I don't think anything had happened in North America per-say, but the Third International did agree that war needs to happen against Spanish aggression in Africa. It's not a move that forces everyone in the Comintern to declare war on Spain, but has helped served as a reason for some to reinforce their commitment and to follow up on their own. What's compulsory now of all members is to contribute something to the defense of Africa.

China has yet to make any formal declarations.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

I should toss both in.

My complaint though is that Hou doesn't wear a belt. Or at least my understanding of the Zhongshang suit is that it doesn't require a belt at all.



Other than that: you have my approval. I like the guy in the comments too who wants to see a Oceania civilization.

I'll toss your Hou picture on the Hou page as well, somewhere.

How to heal bruises and cuts quickly and safely?

<Snipped quote by Dinh AaronMk>

Hmm... That way I won't have anymore bruises....... THAT'S GENIUS! What do I do with my torso though? It's kinda difficult to get a prosthetic torso.

@Frettzo

Science will get to it someday.

Someday we shall be able to turn ourselves into Raiden, or Sundowner. Wrestling would be epic then.

How to heal bruises and cuts quickly and safely?

<Snipped quote by Dinh AaronMk>

Seems legit, though I kinda need my limbs for daily stuff.

@Frettzo

Get prosthetic.

How to heal bruises and cuts quickly and safely?

Amputation.

Judge Orders Cleveland Schools to Desegrate

<Snipped quote>

well nice.

Also, I went into this article thinking it was the city in Ohio, but that isn't the case. This is a middle-sized town of 12,000 people. You can see schools in a big city segregating themselves without any purpose or plan, but in a town of 12,000 segregation must be carefully planned by not only the school-board, but the town government itself in the use of taxes.

@Vilageidiotx

At the end of the day too it's pretty easy when a railroad literally splits the town between black and white. So then you just plan out where you build schools so they get the highest ratio of black over white, or white over black.

Judge Orders Cleveland Schools to Desegrate

Yes, this actually just recently happened

After fifty years a US Federal Court judge has ordered the Cleveland District Schools to desegregate their schools. Over that fifty year period the district failed to integrate their students, choosing to half-ass their way around with a small number of minor programs that only achieved a token effort.

Role-Play Advice

How do I do a proper collaboration post?

@Gendarme

What I've usually done is set up a PM with the other party and we write it out with our own individual posts, and then mutually edit and work it out when it's finished so both are satisfied with the general flow. In this case we might recognize one of the two characters has taken a leading perspective on the matter and it'll be edited to that and posted by the player of that character.

How do I portray ships, buildings, and inanimate objects in general through writing without sounding boring?

Metaphors and similes are going to be your best option and is the most commonly used. Instead of saying, "It was 35 units long, 10 wide, and 80 high" find a comparison in life. "The masts were as tall as trees with a color like that of ragged decay and mildew. Its length was like that of a long street, straight and narrow. But it's entire size inspired fear and awe upon [the character]."

Using more abstract and less direct language to compare X to a more readily known Y can also help in reader connectivity because it allows them their own creative lee-way. Instead of describing something as "red" you might say it was the color of a strawberry sundae or cherry pie.

What is the right amount of detail in most posts? Are there any exceptions?

This is unquantifiable and comes with experience. You will just need to write and gauge how readers react. RP or otherwise.

If the people you're writing with write long posts and you read them, then it's safe to assume if you write a long post they will read them. But if they're writing short-ass posts and you're writing long posts then it's safe to assume no one is reading yours.

I intend to head to an Advanced role-play at some point, but I would like to increase my skill beforehand. Do you have any general writing tips?

Write, read.

What early signs are there that a role-play will have longevity and not die out quickly? How can I help keep a role-play alive and fun as a poster?

When you throw the sacrificial bones upon the fire made of dead Africans and gas-choked Seattle hipsters and the flames turn blue. When the Chinese sing Kalinka. When skies over-head are clear and Tengri's summons are strong.

Then you may ride out from the German castle of Procstratinationburg and ride into the literary world of Russiya.

Beneath our Two Suns

Port-au-Prince, Presidential Palace

To call the palace in the highlands over Port-au-Prince anything close to a formal palace would be an over-estimation at its best regard. With its eerily out of place plantation richness though, it was really more of a large house, comparable to a small mansion than a sprawling political estate. Though the property it rested on could be called its most palatial features, with sprawling gardens flanking narrow gravel walkways, populated by palm and mahogany trees that sighed in the tropical breezes that blew through.

From the second-story windows one could see down to the boomerang shape of Port-au-Princes shoreline, a shape nicked and cut by the plethora of old-world piers and cement docks that jutted out into the bay. It was from that bay where every-day the waters of the sea would rise and wash inland several times a day to flood the old streets, during the old bay-side city into a labyrinth of canals that intersected between the tops of buildings. Through a telescope one could watch at these times of day and night as men in canoes paddled through the tidal water almost as much as the faint suggestion of men moved about on plank bridges that crisscrossed above the impromptu waterways. A second layer of structures had since been added over the years out of crude and primitive scaffold structures creating a veritable urban jungle inhabited by the nation's sea-farriers.

“The roads to Cap-Haitien and Port-de-Paix are still considerably dangerous routes. While our efforts south in the Tiburon are quiet effective, the roads and highways in the north are increasingly dangerous. Often washed out.” Said a squat portly man with a square face as unimpressive as a chunk of unused rock granite. A thin scruffy bushel of unshaven beard grew from his chin and did little to make the man any less of an over-sized piglet. “As well, given the condition of the road-ways some groups lacking any formal support or proper honor have taken to acting as guides to travelers, often mugging or abandoning their wards mid-way through and making off with their money or belongings; leaving them in some of our worse highland roads.”

“So why don't we just arrest the perpitrating groups and be done with it?” the president asked. Georges Mahon was a towering man with a soft voice. And much unlike the sweating figure standing in his stately little office he had a full beard, oil black with a few strands of salty gray and white among the curling wires. He turned from the windows where he was looking down at the city to hold the plump magistrate under his heavy cold brown eyes. “After all, they're breaking the law as highway men.”

“That would be an option your honor, but I'm afraid it's done before as I'm sure you remember.” the magistrate reminded him, “Within the decade new ones will arise to fill the need. Your office needs to execute an official program to address the underlying matter.” Georges had only assumed the title of President of Haiti six years ago. A younger hougan from Haiti's central highland he was a cold brooding man, his grandfather had briefly been president himself before falling ill and dying in his office.

Georges was a warrior though, his blood-line had raided against the Dominicans as far back as his grandfather's time. He wasn't as grand an architect as the man with him was hoping he'd be, or implying he try to be.

“Then send a stronger message, delay the next generation of brigands and we'll figure something out.” he said dismissively, “Don't just arrest the men have them hanged. Nail them to the rocks along the road-side if they have to be. Confiscate their belongings as contraband.

“We'll use that then to pay for a survey of the situation.” he added, summoning a relieved sigh from the man. Georges life had been one of anecdotes that pointed to this. There had been a man who was caught stealing another's pigs from his home village. His father summarily had his hands cut off with a machete in the village square; no one else had tried after. When it happened again when Georges had inherited the work of the village priest he did it again to the new thief, but also took a foot, there had been peace since, even if he had long retired to Port-au-Prince.

“Very well, should I write up an official warrant and bring it to you to sign?” he asked, more comfortable. The tension the short square man had held was gone, mostly.

“Yes, go ahead.” Georges beckoned and the magistrate turned and plodded out the door. As he left a new guest arrives

“If I were to have dealt with the brigands I would have ordered their blood drained as an extra gift to Kalfu so I may request strength against my enemies!” the new man laughed as he came to Georges with his arms outstretched. His wide brutish face was a smile hidden under a fiery two-pronged beard and his head of hair an untamed mess that fell over both his ears, but left the top of his head nearly flat.

With a roar the two men wrapped themselves in a warm embrace. “You're back, brother!” Georges exclaimed, laughing.

“Yes, but to leave again.” Georges brother, Wilguens Mahon, “I come to seek your blessings yet again as president of our faith land.” he said releasing his brother and laughing.

Wilquens was in his years older than Georges, but had a temperament more used to fighting than to ritual. While he enjoyed the finer aspects of honoring the more aggressive spirits, such as the drinking of gunpowder with added gunpowder or the sacrificial slaughter of pigs he could rarely bear going through the motions of the other Loa. Being in one place for very long was not his thing as well.

“You have yet to tell me about your last adventure though.” Georges begged as he sat on the windowsill.

“It was a grand adventure in nothing.” Wilquens moaned, “We looked to the Bahamas finding some overlooked treasure but only found miscreants and rogues exiled from their homes living among the mud of the Ghost Islands, hand fishing for crabs any anything that would come to the tidal shallows. For our troubles we picked up some men as slaves and a couple crabs. But our adventure to the American north was cut off short by a wind from the inland. I was bidden to return home so I did.”

“A shame.” Georges sighed, “So where will you go next if not further north?”

“I was thinking just this,” Wilquens smiled, “But I was thinking west. To first trade off our slaves here in port, purchase some rum and grass in Jamaica, and then head to Mexico or that whip of land that is the Mosquito Coast and Panama.”

“Then you have my blessings on this. How long will be in port?”

“For a couple days, but I must not be a merchant, brother.” Miquel said with distaste, “Me crew will have to unwind after their voyage. They have ass to chase after all.”