Mokley

Moonfiend

@Tojin She's precious, haha! xD

Unquiet

@Always That's an awesome character! But . . . sorry, there's a "but."

I'm getting a distinctly modern vibe from your description. The top technology level here is Steampunk, but several characters are going down a more Medieval route, depending on the kingdom and the time they've been incarcerated. Just making sure you're aware of the sort of fantasy world we're going for.

Next, the snares are either physically different from humans or have strange powers out of the womb or both -- there is no way she made it to age 12 without being noticed. Doctors are highly advanced in spotting a snare in the womb, as well.

Sorry, I don't think this particular character's going to work with the setting and plot. If you've got another idea, though, I'd love to read!

Moonfiend

Seems like a busy week for a lot of people! All the luck to those of you dealing with classes and homework!

Meanwhile, who's working on a post? ;)

Unquiet

Just checking in! :D

Who's still considering their introduction post? Those who haven't posted yet, would you prefer to wake up later, when things are moving?

I'll plan to move us along sometime tomorrow, unless anyone objects!

Lantern

I'm looking forward to the moment when Anise realizes just how much power she really has in her hand. And she's about to double it.

Meanwhile, also interested to see what powers and paths Artemis ends up choosing -- will likely be just as powerful, but probably in very different ways.

Closed for now! Thanks! :D

Updated a bit! I'm currently in a creative/motivation block that I think may be helped by a new 1x1 in the style and genre that is the foundation of everything I love about RP: Epic Fantasy Medieval! So corny, so overused, yet it owns my heart.

I accept most anyone and everyone to my group RPs (check out my signature!) but for 1x1 I reserve the right to be extremely picky. This means I might be quick to let you know it won't work out. At this point I feel like I can tell when our styles and preferences just won't mesh -- it's not a reflection of your ability or mine, just that I will cut the RP short if one or both of us won't have fun with it.

My Rules! Lists are great, huh?

:: Original, Medieval/Fantasy only. I told you I was picky.

:: I am female, but I prefer playing male. I know, I'm weird. Don't care.

:: MxF is happiness. I have written (and am writing!) MxM, but I miss MxF.

:: This is not JUST a romance RP. The characters have other, more important plot things to worry about. Romance happens or they kill each other with sarcasm, usually.

:: Your character absolutely must be a strong, intelligent, fully developed person who has her own life, her own plot and her own concerns. I have no patience for whiny submissive characters. I also can't stand characters who just exist to be the most badass shit you've ever seen. Strengths AND flaws AND human emotions, please.

:: Drop characters and go. The only discussion we'll have ahead-of-time might be about the world we're writing in and the general personalities of our characters (gotta make sure the chemistry is en pointe), but I prefer to plan as little as possible. If this seems like a hard concept for you to grasp, please hit the back button before we both have a headache. :)

:: Help carry the story. Run your own separate plot alongside mine. Each individual person has their own wildly different problems and histories, all of which are plot-worthy -- I expect your character to have plot to contribute.

:: I prefer email or google docs -- somewhere offsite to write. I run a lot of group RPs as GM, and I feel like there's an entirely different mindset required for 1x1; RPing offsite ensures I don't accidentally GM our RP. But I can be convinced to RP on a thread or through PM.

STILL here? Wow. Ok. Uh, well then. Shoot me a PM! Let's write something awesome.

Mirror, Fox, Key

Meryn froze as she remembered the blood wasn't hers. It was the felidrake's. The infected, dead felidrake. Spook's warning of the disease echoed in her mind.

Meryn shoved her bag off her shoulder and onto the ground. With both hands, she grabbed the back of her collar and yanked the dirty jacket off, throwing it to the floor a few feet away. Shaking hands felt at her face, her arms, her hair, for any traces of crystals on her skin. Her breath was coming out in frantic, shallow puffs.

Lily's hands closed around Meryn's wrists, gently tugging her hands away from her face. She waited until the girl looked up at her, then offered a smile, even if it was somewhat marred by the blood trickling from the cut on her cheek down to her chin.

"It's alright—you're alright," she said breathlessly, still panting from the mad sprint and the adrenaline that was still shooting through her. "Just a little blood, nothing more." Lily released Meryn's hands, turning to Emma. "Spook needs your help—"

Emma tossed the girl a bundle of bandages, "Take care of Meryn and yourself, I'll make sure he lives." She scooped up the rest of her supplies and ran to the now re-masked man. She was slightly disappointed she had missed a glimpse at his face, but now was not the time for such thoughts.

As she approached their retreating guide she was slightly taken aback- for a man with a hole in his chest he was certainly doing a good job of keeping upright. She ran to meet Spook, offering him a shoulder for support. "You're injured, let me take care of you." It was more of a command then a request. She gestured towards the mat, signalling for them to head towards it so she could help him. "Are those things going to follow us out here?"

Spook raised his head in a moment of hesitation, a bloodsoaked glove pressed against his stomach, his mask slightly dented and askew. He draped an arm behind Emma's shoulders and released a long breath. "Thank you." The old smile had returned to his voice. "It's not as bad as it looks," he added with a quiet laugh.

The traveler obediently sat down on the mat, leaning on Emma for balance as he did so. "They won't cross the edge of the forest. They know they'll be shot on sight. We're safe." His voice was convincingly reassuring despite the admission that they were at that moment being watched through the scope of a sniper rifle.

Spook removed his gloves, and his pale thin hands were tattooed with old runes. He gingerly pulled off his jacket, and the runes continued up his arms; dozens of them, in varying colors and sizes and age. His shoulders were flecked and patched with what appeared to be a rash of dark gemstone. He laid back and pulled up his shirt -- his stomach was completely covered in rough dark crystal, which was actively expanding into the wound, as if feeding on his blood. Spook extended an upturned palm to Emma, to take whatever she had intended to use on the injury. He would be happy to clean up the wound himself -- there was no reason to expect Emma to come any closer.

"I'm very sure I'm not contagious," he assured her -- but he understood this wasn't satisfactory proof.

He turned his masked face toward Meryn -- whose name he had no way of knowing -- and his voice took on a note of gravity. "Are you injured?" Her answer was the difference between life and death.

Behind them, the forest screeched.

One of the little wood demons leaped onto a branch at the edge of the woods and hissed at them. Black crystal blossomed on its face and limbs, making it look all the more hellish. It did not attempt to move outside the reach of the trees.

Ahead, the wasteland stretched wide and bleak -- and something was moving toward them out of the high dark city wall.

It was stocky, round and ambling, like a strange silhouette of a long-legged, rotund man, followed by a cloud of steam. As it waddled closer at a steady pace, it glimmered like tarnished brass in the sunlight. The steam-powered robot whirred and hissed and clicked, stomping closer with high knees and swinging arms, an almost comical sight among the dead roots and barren ash of the wasteland.

The robot was headed straight for Alex. Of course, of everyone in that group, Alex appeared to be the one in charge: he was the most properly dressed and the most properly armed, and he wasn't injured nor female.

The robot stopped a few feet away from the group, and a cloud of steam hissed from holes in its barrel-shaped back.

< Who are you and what is your intention? >

A man's voice crackled through a speaker on the robot's stomach, like a radio transmission.

Spook, meanwhile, had laid his head back and had gone stiff and quiet in pain.

Mirror, Fox, Key

@jordy0403 Hey man, I'm gonna go ahead and post -- this time I'll give you something better to respond to. Right now I think Alex is kind of forced into one course of action, which is no fun, so I'll count on you in the next round k? ;)

Erm, same for everyone else too, haha. I realize there's been a lack of choices and I hope to fix that.

Unquiet

So is this more of a weekend role-play, or are things just slow to start at the moment?

@Emma

I'm getting the feeling that most people here are going to take this at a casual pace, probably weekly, which is totally cool. I'm here whenever you guys are ready for a story post. :)

Lantern

The moment the mask touched Artemis' face, a buzz of energy shot through her veins like a concentrated dose of caffeine. She felt lighter, faster, stronger, and a bit twitchy. Speed was no problem, and with practice she could leap into the trees in a single bound. Though nothing appeared different through the eyes of the mask, Artemis might find that she could sense what was behind her almost as well as she could see ahead.

The inside of the mask smelled faintly of dry sweat. Artemis might have the passing thought -- perhaps the effects of residual magic -- that a young boy had spent the majority of his life in this mask until very recently.

Behind her, the trail through the woods wound into a denser part of the forest, illuminated by fireflies. There was no more sign of the two children, but while she wore the mask Artemis would have the distinct feeling that they were watching.

The pirate stepped out of the witch's house, stuffing a necklace into a pocket with one hand and dragging a gnarled, chopped tree branch with the other. He looked very much like he regretted this visit -- which was only amplified when he turned the corner and saw the gryphon squirming in the grass, its saddle twisted askew.

"Hey!" he roared, dropping the branch to run at the confused beast. "No! Bad! Roll over!" He pulled up on a wing and the gryphon scrabbled and jumped to its feet, bouncing, tail swinging, pawing the ground, ready to play. The pirate pushed on its beak with a snarl. "No! You piece of shit bird . . . SIT!" The gryphon sat promptly, but wriggled and fidgeted while the pirate unhooked the mangled, grass-stained saddle. As soon as he'd dragged it off, the freed gryphon went bounding and frolicking in the clearing like an eager puppy.

The pirate sat down at the base of the dead tree, muttering to himself, and set to work untangling and straightening the damage to the saddle.

---

"The Lantern?" Peck stared at Anise with obvious confusion and hesitance -- which wasn't helped by the fact that Anise now looked like a crazed Kith in her mask and tattered dress and blue mangled Lantern. The blue Lantern had compelled him to believe every word Anise had said -- and although Anise had since relinquished her hold on the pirate's mind, Peck was nonetheless convinced of her power and status.

"The white Lantern is safe here. We've been guarding it for generations, it's perfectly fine where it is and nobody knows about it but us." He grinned a little, proud of his heritage, and he gestured with a thumb at the top of the dead white tree. His faint smile faded as a thought occurred to him. "But with the Lady of Light comes the dawn." It was a line in an old lullaby. "Have you found a way to use them to bring back the sun?" he asked with guarded hope.

Reus, meanwhile, shook the water out of his fur -- spraying the huffing gryphon -- and walked closer to sit by Anise, the wood creaking and snapping under his enormous weight. Despite all of Anise's encouragement to behave and be peaceful, he set the pirate with a firm, yellow-eyed glare.