A twinge runs through his chest as the boy comments on being warm. A faint scowl furrows Kiel's brow as he tests the temp of the water in the pot. 'Being warm should be something everyone should have. It shouldn't be a luxury' It's nice an warm, almost hot, so he pulls it off the heat and nudges a place clear on the table with his elbow. Setting down the steaming pot he hangs the soft pants behind the boy on the back of the chair. He gives the young man a faint smile. “I turned up the heat so you shouldn't catch cold. But once I've treated these wounds, you should change out of those wet bottoms.” With that he ducks down under the table, rummaging through the piles of books. A faint crash followed by a yelp signifies that he's been attacked by a pile of books.
“Ah hah! Found it!” he calls out triumphantly as he crawls backwards out of the mess of dusty old tomes. With a grin he waves a small white box with a red cross on it back and forth a few times. After a moment a confused look crosses his face. “I just used it last week. . . How'd it end up down there I wonder. . . .” Shaking off his confusion he scoots over to his guest and settles down on his knees. As he sets to work washing and disinfecting the wounds he tries to imagine who's responsible for the boy's state.
'Most of my kids have stopped roughing people up, and Sander's gang have moved one town over' He glances over the boy's frame and tries to think of who could beat someone like that. 'He's not a stick like me, so he'd hold his own against most of the kids in the area. It must have been a group. But the only group around that attacks strangers is. . . .' His thoughts trail off as he realizes that he indeed does not recognize the person he's doctoring. Placing a lard patch of gauze over a large bruise on the boy's ribs, a split in the middle weeping blood slightly, he reaches over to the medical tape. “Here, can you hold this for me while I tape it. . . . .?” He lets the sentence trail off, giving the boy an opportunity to give up his name. A lot of street kids avoid telling the church their names because a lot of the more law abiding pastors will seek out their parents. In other words, the very people they are trying to avoid.
PopeAlessandros Member
- Last Seen: 3 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2643 (0.58 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- PopeAlessandros 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
tenebrae16,
Pascal
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Player: PopeAlessandros
Name: Amano Hughes
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 6' 1”
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black, cut perfectly even just above the shoulders, with bangs parted down the middle and as long as the rest of the hair. Occasionally he pulls it back into a short pony.
Eyes: Chocolate Brown
Skin: Very pale from lack of sun exposure
Build: Very slight, his only exorcise being fencing.
Clothes: He's a richer kid who wears clothes fitting his station, but he starts the RP nude.
Accessories: A silver pocket watch his father gave him so that he stops being late for his classes.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): He's an excellent fencer, but other than that he has no skills of note.
General Personality: He has the natural rich kid arrogance, but he masks it well beneath a truthfully very awkward visage. He's rather shy and has a tendency to say the wrong things. However his arrogance shines through when other rich kids start trying to get him to engage in their favorite spot: Picking on poor people. He's very convincing and has often times left groups of confused entitled asses standing around scratching their heads, wondering if they had just been insulted or complemented. He has a strong moral code, but will set it aside when his emotions override his rational mind.
Background: Amano is the son of the man who owns most of the store property in town, and as such he's never wanted for anything. He has three older brothers who are all training to take over their father's job when he dies. As the youngest, Amano was given the choice at a young age on weather or not he wanted to complete with his siblings for the job, but he declined without hesitation. It may have had something to do with the eldest threatening his seven year old brother's life should he not do so, but no one may ever know the real reason. Amano spent most of his childhood wandering around town, meeting people and drawing pictures. The drawing were never very good, but they made him happy.
Despite knowing most of the people in town, Amano is still very awkward around people his age and has a tenancy to stutter when he get nervous. He took up fencing a few years ago and advanced through the ranks quickly due to his slender build and innate abilities. As of late he's spent a lot of time just outside of town, sketching trees and the like from inside the shadows of the houses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The room smells strongly of incense and blood. The hooded figures move slowly around the edges, chanting in an old arcane language as they slowly spread droplets of boar blood around the room. As they move counter clockwise a figure to their left struggles vainly against the chains binding him to an ornate old stone alter. On the floor around the alter is an old alchemy circle in white paint, splattered with blood and bedecked with bloody animal bones over the proper symbols. The chanting increases in volume, and the nude figure chained to the alter gives out muffled cries through the cloth gag in his mouth.
The cries reach a peak when he spies one of the hooded figures steps out of the circle and approaches the alter, a silver knife appearing from the folds of it's robes. Tears pour freely down his cheeks and back into his raven black hair as the flickering light from the few trorches around the stone chamber glint off the polished blade. He screams as the blade comes down and slices him once, twice, four times. One slice in each limb. His blood flows from the wounds, pouring down his pale skin on to the stone of the alter. He coughs, trying desperately to beg the men to stop, but all Amano manages to do is inhale his own saliva. As the action causes a coughing fit, the young man peels a sense of surrealism come over him.
'How is this happening? It can't be. I must be dreaming, or hallucinating all this' His eyes roll back in his head as he recalls his day. He'd woken as he always had, to the sound of his pet songbird Musaya singing to the sunrise. After a quick breakfast he bid the staff farewell as he rushed out the door. He hadn't seen any of his family that morning, but that wasn't unusual. The lot of them tended to be up before sunrise to go inspect some thing or another. Being a landlord was never something Amano wanted to be, and the early morning his family has is simply one more thing to add to the long list of reasons why he's content to spend his life doing wheat he likes.
The dank chamber fades from view as the blood loss starts to take it's toll. Instead he sees the wheat and trees he'd been observing when he began to nod off. A face floats before his eyes, but even as his heart skips a beat in recognition, the fleeting sight vanishes and with it his knowledge of just who it was that found him seated against one of the older apartments at the edge of town, facing the old forest. The feeling of cold metal against his neck shocks the young man back to the horror at hand. He swallows hard, his terror coming to a sharp point as he feels the blade pressing harder into his flesh. He's about to close his eyes, unable to bare the darkness glaring out at him from beneath the thick black hood any longer when suddenly there's a bright flash of fire and everyone in the room cries out and falls back away from the blaze. Unable to move away Amano simply stays as still as possible as the flames seem to shift and move. Then suddenly, a figure appears in the flames.
Name: Amano Hughes
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 6' 1”
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black, cut perfectly even just above the shoulders, with bangs parted down the middle and as long as the rest of the hair. Occasionally he pulls it back into a short pony.
Eyes: Chocolate Brown
Skin: Very pale from lack of sun exposure
Build: Very slight, his only exorcise being fencing.
Clothes: He's a richer kid who wears clothes fitting his station, but he starts the RP nude.
Accessories: A silver pocket watch his father gave him so that he stops being late for his classes.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): He's an excellent fencer, but other than that he has no skills of note.
General Personality: He has the natural rich kid arrogance, but he masks it well beneath a truthfully very awkward visage. He's rather shy and has a tendency to say the wrong things. However his arrogance shines through when other rich kids start trying to get him to engage in their favorite spot: Picking on poor people. He's very convincing and has often times left groups of confused entitled asses standing around scratching their heads, wondering if they had just been insulted or complemented. He has a strong moral code, but will set it aside when his emotions override his rational mind.
Background: Amano is the son of the man who owns most of the store property in town, and as such he's never wanted for anything. He has three older brothers who are all training to take over their father's job when he dies. As the youngest, Amano was given the choice at a young age on weather or not he wanted to complete with his siblings for the job, but he declined without hesitation. It may have had something to do with the eldest threatening his seven year old brother's life should he not do so, but no one may ever know the real reason. Amano spent most of his childhood wandering around town, meeting people and drawing pictures. The drawing were never very good, but they made him happy.
Despite knowing most of the people in town, Amano is still very awkward around people his age and has a tenancy to stutter when he get nervous. He took up fencing a few years ago and advanced through the ranks quickly due to his slender build and innate abilities. As of late he's spent a lot of time just outside of town, sketching trees and the like from inside the shadows of the houses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The room smells strongly of incense and blood. The hooded figures move slowly around the edges, chanting in an old arcane language as they slowly spread droplets of boar blood around the room. As they move counter clockwise a figure to their left struggles vainly against the chains binding him to an ornate old stone alter. On the floor around the alter is an old alchemy circle in white paint, splattered with blood and bedecked with bloody animal bones over the proper symbols. The chanting increases in volume, and the nude figure chained to the alter gives out muffled cries through the cloth gag in his mouth.
The cries reach a peak when he spies one of the hooded figures steps out of the circle and approaches the alter, a silver knife appearing from the folds of it's robes. Tears pour freely down his cheeks and back into his raven black hair as the flickering light from the few trorches around the stone chamber glint off the polished blade. He screams as the blade comes down and slices him once, twice, four times. One slice in each limb. His blood flows from the wounds, pouring down his pale skin on to the stone of the alter. He coughs, trying desperately to beg the men to stop, but all Amano manages to do is inhale his own saliva. As the action causes a coughing fit, the young man peels a sense of surrealism come over him.
'How is this happening? It can't be. I must be dreaming, or hallucinating all this' His eyes roll back in his head as he recalls his day. He'd woken as he always had, to the sound of his pet songbird Musaya singing to the sunrise. After a quick breakfast he bid the staff farewell as he rushed out the door. He hadn't seen any of his family that morning, but that wasn't unusual. The lot of them tended to be up before sunrise to go inspect some thing or another. Being a landlord was never something Amano wanted to be, and the early morning his family has is simply one more thing to add to the long list of reasons why he's content to spend his life doing wheat he likes.
The dank chamber fades from view as the blood loss starts to take it's toll. Instead he sees the wheat and trees he'd been observing when he began to nod off. A face floats before his eyes, but even as his heart skips a beat in recognition, the fleeting sight vanishes and with it his knowledge of just who it was that found him seated against one of the older apartments at the edge of town, facing the old forest. The feeling of cold metal against his neck shocks the young man back to the horror at hand. He swallows hard, his terror coming to a sharp point as he feels the blade pressing harder into his flesh. He's about to close his eyes, unable to bare the darkness glaring out at him from beneath the thick black hood any longer when suddenly there's a bright flash of fire and everyone in the room cries out and falls back away from the blaze. Unable to move away Amano simply stays as still as possible as the flames seem to shift and move. Then suddenly, a figure appears in the flames.
I'm all for rolling with the punches, but I've found that RPs last longer when both participants are invested with not just their characters, but with all aspects of the world they are jumping into. So while I have no intention of planning everything out by any means, I would like to discuss some of the more pertinent details and work with you on creating a setting we are both happy with that would be conducive to both out muses.
I like writing long sentences, I've just noticed. it's a new thing and I will try to work on it. :P
So, which first, Plot or Setting?
I like writing long sentences, I've just noticed. it's a new thing and I will try to work on it. :P
So, which first, Plot or Setting?
I like yer idea on the Zombie Group, so no problems there :P I would like to discuss the were group because I've always had fun with the idea of different were animals :P And since we're not staying strictly on the undead, I'd like to discuss perhaps a Witch/Warlock group(Making the assumption that it's a biological predisposition and not a cult following i this world we are building) and perhaps talk a bit about what kind of things our guys would do during the day. Should we keep them in school? Or they could work for an agency owned by their group and earn a wage? What do you think?
Heheh, Uh, I already have in my profile that Seishu has the Yin, so yeah, you have the Yang. Also, what did you think of the way I put that? The whole toothless puppy thing. It strikes me a funny, but. . . . . .
As the horse drinks Aslon walks slowly around the area, his eyes taking in the shadows and shifting branches, keen on not being caught unawares. With a sigh his finishes his sweep and stops beside the horse. Reaching out he gives it a firm pat on the neck. “Poor thing. Living in such a place as this. It must be hell.” At his touch the horse looks up at him, but as he speaks it drops it's head back down. He chuckles lightly to himself as he watches. 'I've got to head towards the palace, but I don't think I should take this one with me. If I were to be spotted they may fire at me and hit her. She's provided me a touch of life I did not think to find here, and I would be shamed if I were to put her in harm's way'
With that thought in mind Aslon looks up, seeking out the sun. As soon as he's got his bearings he turns back to the filly and opens his mouth to bid her farewell and freezes. The movement is subtle, but his heart begins to pound as her ear twitches slightly. 'She hears something' he thinks, his heart rate spiking momentarily. 'No, I mustn’t panic' Taking a deep breath he backs into the nearest tree and using it's roots he calls out through the earth to locate the source of the sound. Cursing under his breath as he detects another rider and a pack of dogs heading towards him, the young elf steps away from the tree and quickly makes his way to the edge of the stream. Kneeling beside the softly babbling waters he pulls out a small pouch and opens it.
Scooping up a small handful of mud he murmurs a short incantation and adds the muck to the pouch. Before entering the forest he'd taken a handful of the dirt from the outskirts and placed it inside. The incantation acts as a cloak, spreading the smell of soil across the flesh of the one carrying the pouch so that they can't be tracked by their scent. It had been confirmed that the lord of the lands keeps dogs by one of the previous scouts who’d sent the information back by messenger hawk before vanishing. Using the knowledge Aslon's master had come up with a way to mask the scent of living creatures with just a little dirt and an incantation to the spirits of the land. Since most of the Deadwood it, well, dead, he had a hard time wording the incantation to use the least amount of magic possible, but eventually he was successful. The only thing is the soil needed to be replenished once in a while, and it is best to use the most living soil one can find.
Standing up with a huff Aslon pats the horse one last time before taking to the trees. His heart skips a beat as just as the horse passes out of sight he hears the sounds of dogs and the creak of leather. Stilling as to not draw attention to himself the young elf listens carefully. At the sound of a blade being drawn his muscles tense. A cold chill runs down his spine as the rider begins shouting to the woods after him. Despite the panic that rises in his chest at the nearness of one who wishes to take his life, a white hot flash of anger at the creatures words makes his hands long to take up his bow and fire an arrow strait into the arrogant bastard's mouth. 'No Aslon, you can't attack. Not yet. Only as a last resort. You are a scout, not a soldier' A low growl makes it's way past his lips, too quiet for the dogs to hear and with a deep breath he takes off towards the palace.
He moves at top speed, trees flashing by almost unnoticed as he focuses on keeping his footing. Once or twice he's forced to divert off track because of one undead thing or another in his path. He pauses in the middle branches of a large dead elm as he notices a change in the light. Cursing under his breath he looks this way and that until he realizes the sun is too far down to ascertain it's direction. With a growl he casts his senses out and looks for anywhere safe to wait out the night. Eventually he settles for an outcropping of rock on the side of a large stony structure not too far from his current position. He's forced to drop to the ground, not wanting to try his hand in the twilight at navigating dead branches.
'If it were completely dark I would be able to see just fine, but this twilight messes with my senses. And after the sun completely falls, the abominations roaming this land will be stronger. Yes, it's best if I wait out the night' His brows furrow as an old crumbling building comes into view. It looks like an old human guard house, the kind that was situated in small towns for the local militia. The trees have grown right of the it's walls, some larger branches hanging over the top where the roof and many of the top stones have fallen away to leave the interior open to the stars. Casting about constantly the young elf makes his way inside and steeping over the rubble he makes his way carefully up to the second floor.
Scattered about are broken down beds and barrels of what he's sure must have held mead. Walking over to the stairs to the third floor he looks up to see the dark blue sky of dusk. 'I'll stay here. That way I'm not directly under the sky, and off the ground at the same time' He casts a critical eye over the branches above. 'I can escape through the trees should they find me in the night' he surmises, and with that he finds a clear spot large enough to lay down in and with a soft sigh, he settles down on the hard wood to rest for a short time. Rest, before the real monsters wake for their evening fun.
With that thought in mind Aslon looks up, seeking out the sun. As soon as he's got his bearings he turns back to the filly and opens his mouth to bid her farewell and freezes. The movement is subtle, but his heart begins to pound as her ear twitches slightly. 'She hears something' he thinks, his heart rate spiking momentarily. 'No, I mustn’t panic' Taking a deep breath he backs into the nearest tree and using it's roots he calls out through the earth to locate the source of the sound. Cursing under his breath as he detects another rider and a pack of dogs heading towards him, the young elf steps away from the tree and quickly makes his way to the edge of the stream. Kneeling beside the softly babbling waters he pulls out a small pouch and opens it.
Scooping up a small handful of mud he murmurs a short incantation and adds the muck to the pouch. Before entering the forest he'd taken a handful of the dirt from the outskirts and placed it inside. The incantation acts as a cloak, spreading the smell of soil across the flesh of the one carrying the pouch so that they can't be tracked by their scent. It had been confirmed that the lord of the lands keeps dogs by one of the previous scouts who’d sent the information back by messenger hawk before vanishing. Using the knowledge Aslon's master had come up with a way to mask the scent of living creatures with just a little dirt and an incantation to the spirits of the land. Since most of the Deadwood it, well, dead, he had a hard time wording the incantation to use the least amount of magic possible, but eventually he was successful. The only thing is the soil needed to be replenished once in a while, and it is best to use the most living soil one can find.
Standing up with a huff Aslon pats the horse one last time before taking to the trees. His heart skips a beat as just as the horse passes out of sight he hears the sounds of dogs and the creak of leather. Stilling as to not draw attention to himself the young elf listens carefully. At the sound of a blade being drawn his muscles tense. A cold chill runs down his spine as the rider begins shouting to the woods after him. Despite the panic that rises in his chest at the nearness of one who wishes to take his life, a white hot flash of anger at the creatures words makes his hands long to take up his bow and fire an arrow strait into the arrogant bastard's mouth. 'No Aslon, you can't attack. Not yet. Only as a last resort. You are a scout, not a soldier' A low growl makes it's way past his lips, too quiet for the dogs to hear and with a deep breath he takes off towards the palace.
He moves at top speed, trees flashing by almost unnoticed as he focuses on keeping his footing. Once or twice he's forced to divert off track because of one undead thing or another in his path. He pauses in the middle branches of a large dead elm as he notices a change in the light. Cursing under his breath he looks this way and that until he realizes the sun is too far down to ascertain it's direction. With a growl he casts his senses out and looks for anywhere safe to wait out the night. Eventually he settles for an outcropping of rock on the side of a large stony structure not too far from his current position. He's forced to drop to the ground, not wanting to try his hand in the twilight at navigating dead branches.
'If it were completely dark I would be able to see just fine, but this twilight messes with my senses. And after the sun completely falls, the abominations roaming this land will be stronger. Yes, it's best if I wait out the night' His brows furrow as an old crumbling building comes into view. It looks like an old human guard house, the kind that was situated in small towns for the local militia. The trees have grown right of the it's walls, some larger branches hanging over the top where the roof and many of the top stones have fallen away to leave the interior open to the stars. Casting about constantly the young elf makes his way inside and steeping over the rubble he makes his way carefully up to the second floor.
Scattered about are broken down beds and barrels of what he's sure must have held mead. Walking over to the stairs to the third floor he looks up to see the dark blue sky of dusk. 'I'll stay here. That way I'm not directly under the sky, and off the ground at the same time' He casts a critical eye over the branches above. 'I can escape through the trees should they find me in the night' he surmises, and with that he finds a clear spot large enough to lay down in and with a soft sigh, he settles down on the hard wood to rest for a short time. Rest, before the real monsters wake for their evening fun.
I'm writing my response up now. I'm wondering, how long do you wanna be on the hunt, because in order for you to catch me I think we have to agree upon the manner in which I am captured :P
The silent guardian breaths slowly, his mind wandering slightly as his counterpart chides his minion, then turns around and welcomes it in. 'Man, there's discipline for ya' he thinks sarcastic, rolling eyes at the wall opposite the door. He feels his eye twitch when Enasi questions his caring about the little guy's name. “How should it be that I not care for the name of a little bite that's been straining to get a good look at me since mot likely before I woke up, huh?” he mutters mostly to himself. Turning back towards the two dream dwellers Seishu takes the boy's proximity as a chance to get a better look at him. Possibly figure out why he looks familiar.
'I mean, it's not like I pay that much attention to the critters I slaughter during the battles, so he has to. . . resemble someone I know?' His eyes narrow as he examines Rue best he can from his pron position on the bed. However when the boy comments on Seishu not being scary he can't help but play with him a bit. Locking eyes with the little minion he flares red fire around his own eyes and flexes his energy ever so slightly with a little hiss. A low chuckles finds it's way out of his throat as the minion careens backwards and ducks once again behind Enasi's chair.
Before the Dream Guardian can yell at him for frightening the poor little dear Seishu holds up a hand as the fear soothes his wounds a bit. “I know, I know, evil evil mean me. You will not stand for me tormenting your precious little treasures, blah blah blah.” A shot of spite, an emotion he has no control over from time to time, fires through Seishu as he speaks and on impulse he adds, “I mean it's not like you care about all the one's I love that you slaughtered, so why should I feel bad about spooking a little sparkler for some comfort while I'm more harmless than a toothless puppy?”
As he finishes his little rant his breath hitches in pain and his hand comes up to clutch his injured left shoulder. From Enasi's direction he hears the whispered question, “My being scared is comforting?” making sure his face is neutral Seishu looks over at the Dream Guardian, waiting to see how he responds to the little one's question.
'I mean, it's not like I pay that much attention to the critters I slaughter during the battles, so he has to. . . resemble someone I know?' His eyes narrow as he examines Rue best he can from his pron position on the bed. However when the boy comments on Seishu not being scary he can't help but play with him a bit. Locking eyes with the little minion he flares red fire around his own eyes and flexes his energy ever so slightly with a little hiss. A low chuckles finds it's way out of his throat as the minion careens backwards and ducks once again behind Enasi's chair.
Before the Dream Guardian can yell at him for frightening the poor little dear Seishu holds up a hand as the fear soothes his wounds a bit. “I know, I know, evil evil mean me. You will not stand for me tormenting your precious little treasures, blah blah blah.” A shot of spite, an emotion he has no control over from time to time, fires through Seishu as he speaks and on impulse he adds, “I mean it's not like you care about all the one's I love that you slaughtered, so why should I feel bad about spooking a little sparkler for some comfort while I'm more harmless than a toothless puppy?”
As he finishes his little rant his breath hitches in pain and his hand comes up to clutch his injured left shoulder. From Enasi's direction he hears the whispered question, “My being scared is comforting?” making sure his face is neutral Seishu looks over at the Dream Guardian, waiting to see how he responds to the little one's question.
I will do my best to work with what you've given me, but in the future, just be careful about moving me. If you feel you would like to to add some drama, just check with me first.
I'ma take a nap, and after that I'll get to work on my post!
© 2007-2026