Scout

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0

The Red Zephyr said
It drives me insane that there are seemingly dozens of people on the site that simply float around and state interest in RPs without ever joining any. Their activity histories are a handful of interest check posts spanned over three months. One could argue that some of them are just making comebacks recently, but almost every RP I have started has had at least three such people with the same background. They artificially inflate the amount if interested users, so, believing it's appropriate begin the roleplay in earnest, I make an OOC that only ends up with a small handful of members. I have to repeat the recruiting process, but more desperately this time since the ship is barely staying afloat and it's infuriating. If you're going to be a Roleplayer Guild member, ROLEPLAY!

I think you're completely right. It seems like there are people whose sole existences are for that.

Digital or Real?

Awesome ^_^ Glad to see you back.

Digital or Real?

It's okay. Take your time ^^ I'll just wait

Digital or Real?

Anyway, got it all figured out, obviously. XD Hope you're still around. Noticing your signature... I never remember NaNoWriMo in time ;n; plus, I'm simply not fast enough to get it done. XD So! Good luck with it!! ^^

Far From Home

"We'd have been here sooner, but we're not really partial to being crushed - no shields!" He reminded her teasingly before looking to Suto, "Get ready, I'm going first," He said holding his sword behind him as it flashed blue. A moment later, he was behind the worm, a large gash appearing around its side as he kicked off his own fight with his signature <<Sonic Leap>>. Kazaro was shortly behind, following Alphard's strike with his own skill, <<Ukifune>>. On smaller monsters, it usually threw them up into the air with its power, but Kazaro modified his body's positioning for such a large beast so that the attack actually copied Alphard's. The blade sunk into the monster's skin and as he ripped his sword upward, he leapt and the mark in the beast's body overlapped the one left behind by the scythe user. As Kazaro's feet struck the floor, he went rigid - something he avoided at all costs by linking his higher leveled attacks with very low ones in order to make the cooldown far shorter. Three seconds could be the difference between life and death, after all, but his health was good and there were more than enough of them to keep this thing on the defensive. In all honesty, Kazaro was wondering if the worm was a boss meant for a three or four person team, rather than seven.

Kimi, however, didn't like to waste a moment as she sprinted forward and kicked from the ground.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Kazaro yelled out in aggravation as the small girl's foot landed on his shoulder and thrust her higher into the air and delivered her <<Quadruple Pain>> attack. Work, work, work... she pleaded, but to no avail. As the final strike sunk into the beast's flesh, it didn't stun at all. Worse yet, her blade actually remained inside the beast as her cooldown started, leaving her stuck there for several seconds.

Nero hit the ground as he continued gliding forward from his previous attack, his feet pivoting as he slid, kicking up sand and dust. By the time Kimi finished her attack, he was fully recovered and sprinting at the monster again, this time using <<Fell Crescent>> to close a smaller gap with a higher jump, his blade tracing the beast's back. As he kicked back and away to keep himself safe during cooldown, he seemed to be getting his spirit back, "This is way easier than it should be!" He called out, part of him relieved and another part feeling cautious. He lost focus for a short second and, as he fell to the ground, his knees buckled and sent him rolling onto his back with an "oof!"

"I'm alright!" He called out, glad that he hadn't lost the grip on his sword with a small laugh - he rarely fell down, but sometimes a miscalculation could mean everything.

"Idiot!" Kazaro shouted at him, as he regained body control and sprinted for Nero, grabbing the boy's shirt and lifting him back onto his feet, "Don't joke around during a fight like this."

"Whoa, lay off, Kaza-"

"Vice Commander Kazaro," The older man spat, still gripping Nero, "You're going to get yourself killed." The venom in his voice was clear as he let go of the younger boy and slashed the empty air next to him in frustration before turning around and closing the small distance between himself and the worm to beginning linking his lower level strikes into its base again.

Nero furrowed his brow in agitation, The hell was that about...?"

Of Deceptive Intentions

Iris clenched her eyes shut as she felt a hand grasp her throat, slowly cutting off the oxygen's path to her lungs. She only had a few seconds - that was all she needed. Her hands rose, trembling until they both rested on Ciscera's giant paw.

They came from the trees... The shadows. Those vile cretins from the south. Were they bred simply to believe that any form of tactic on a battlefield was an honorable one? What could they possibly hope to accomplish without any concept of valor? Iris felt the body around her move, but it was not hers, it belonged to a younger Ciscera, more excited to prove herself in battle than to crush her enemies. The soft groan of wooden bow limps sounded nearby before a gentle twang scored the first kill. Iris knew without a doubt that the arrow was Ciscera's. She felt it, and the confidence that the tigress held for being such a young fighter was incredible. Blades clashed, but there was also an overwhelming amount of magic.

The young vixen was trying to piece together exactly how long ago this was - as clearly it could only have been a few years in difference. If the Tunay'rukian soldiers were using this much magic, it was clear that they had really only just discovered it and had yet to learn to use it properly. Some of the soldiers were wearing themselves out with the use of a single spell, but there was one that she noticed a hare. He was fast, carried a pair of xiphos, and clearly held rank among his comrades, as even a few of his men were taking to his flanks to protect him as he charged at a large, white tiger who was cutting down enemy after enemy, holding no regard for prisoners. He barked commands with true focus and his longsword deflected a blow from the rabbit's xiphos, jarring it from the mammal's hand and to the ground. In a moment, the hare turned his second double-edged weapon to wield it backhanded and ducked beneath the next swipe of the tiger's longblade, darting forward and landing a small cut at a weak point in the commanding officer's armour. He passed under the tiger's arm but was caught off guard by an outstretched foot, tripping him. His only other blade fell from his hand, several feet away as he hit the ground, groaning and flipping onto his back, scrambling for his weapon.

The sound... The sound it made when that longsword pierced his abdomen was haunting, as was the cry of anguish. But the rabbit was not the one making any audible sounds as the precious crimson liquid dribbled from his lip. No, it was Ciscera's father, whose face was covered by the hare's paw and glowing blue, his entire body running with sparks. Every ounce of power the two of them had was poured into the moment and the white tiger's muscles gave out, causing him to fall atop the rabbit, who died mere moments later.

Time flashed around Iris as she watched Ciscera rally her men, return home to a bittersweet accomplishment of her second Trial's end, and move into her third.

The fox, however, withdrew and met the tigress' eyes, wheezing as the hold on her throat tightened. The last time Ciscera felt anything but hatred... Years? Years without compassion. What kind of life could one live if they held onto something like that? Iris was far from afraid or even appalled; she had seen worse and she had seen many of whom she envied for their lives, but there were some horrors better left in the shadows. The girl had so many things to say and no words to say them, no air...

What was that black spot in the corner..? No, must have been her imagination.

There it went again! More of them... Everywhere... What were they..?

The girl's eyes fluttered shut as her vision completely blacked out and her muscles grew limp.

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0

Asta, may I just say, I'm far from complaining about your awesome signature? XD I could seriously sit here and watch that .gif ALL DAY. It's so smooth and the loop is well connected to the point that it's just aesthetically pleasing. I feel like a cat, just watching... back and forth... back and forth...

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0

I don't think there's really a difference between plot-driven and character-driven. Character-driven doesn't mean it's all dialogue - think about how many real people or characters are drastically changed by conversation. It doesn't happen quite so often - especially when somebody is older. However, it seems to me that lately a lot of roleplays don't have that organic experience - either the GM is too focused on pushing their agenda, or the pairings are all far too planned out between players. If anything, people shouldn't discuss it before hand, and if you don't like somebody who tries to push the pairing on you, there's *always* a way around it. But too many relationships are forced and clearly rushed between two characters who don't have enough connection for it to work properly.

To argue that "plot" or "character" is more important than the other is a bit counter-productive because they need one another. In roleplaying, the characters *are* the plot - otherwise the GM may as well just write their own story. ^^"

Not that I'm not guilty of having been involved in it before, but it's just an observation. I think the characters are what make the story.

Of Deceptive Intentions

Iris had spent the entire day making the room immaculate. It was so nice… there weren’t any eyes on her, she felt no hands on her body, and for the first time in ages she felt she could forget where she was if only for a moment. She let her mind wander as she straightened the bed, arranged her “tenants’ “ possessions neatly while taking great care to avoid anything that seemed to have even the slightest sentimental value. She couldn’t remember the last time she could even hum to herself, let alone sing quietly, but she did it for hours on end. It was perhaps the most freeing thing she could find for herself and it always had been. When she was still living with her family in Gaira, the entire tribe would spend at least one night every week gathered around together, telling stories or singing or dancing… They laughed and simply enjoyed life. She could hardly remember it anymore; what it felt like to live in a moment of such naïveté and excitement. However, the young girl found at least some contentedness here, in this room.

After the two warriors left the room that morning, Iris found herself first lying on the bedding which Shar used the night prior. It still had his figure imprinted on it slightly, like a nest, and it was warm as could be. She took a nap… a nap! If she’d been told two days ago that she would be able to take a leisurely nap, she’d have likely laughed in such a person’s face. Then she folded the bedding, set it aside neatly, and began her round about the room, starting in one corner and working her way gradually throughout. Not a speck of dust was left out. She was softly humming ’Beneath the Gairan Moors’ when the door slammed open. Had the day already passed? The small vixen flinched and lowered her ears slightly in dismay; how pleasant it had been. Perhaps it was merely Lykos coming through the door in exhaustion. But alas, ‘twas the tigress. Iris delicately placed the fresh flowers inside the watered vase, one at a time, before taking a drag of their aroma, a contented sigh escaping her muzzle.

It was now that the tigress addressed her, a blade in hand. The fox stared at her in perplexion, tilting her head, “My apologies, ma’am. I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you,” She replied concisely, following her protocol to the very tee as she walked toward Ciscera, meeting her gaze with surprisingly formidable conviction. The blade fazed her little – she’d faced worse and wished only now that they had actually taken her life. “I understand that you do not like me, Madame Ciscera,” She said, dropping the tigress’ real name with absolute certainty. “But… you do not know me…” The girl pointed out, “If you’re so adamant in not liking somebody, you should find a reason why, at least, that is not quite so circumstantial. It’s regrettable, your situation, but…” The girl gently pressed the back of her hand to the blade and guided it away from her nonthreateningly. It was far from an offensive move, merely one of standing nearer to Ciscera. “You’re strong, stronger than you know…” She said sincerely, “You’ve faced a great many things in your young life – you’ve much to offer any cub or kit or pup looking for a story or needing protection… But you don’t love… You don’t care – when was the last time you felt anything but apathy or hatred for another?”

Iris felt the aggression of the tigress and almost dared her to reach out – dared her to even think of touching her.

Of Deceptive Intentions

"You're forgetting who is the conspicuous one here," He pointed out. "It isn't exactly my job, you know, to take care of you. I'm rather enjoying the culture of Riverslade. If you weren't with me, I could likely live here the rest of my life just fine." Giving the tigress validation for her comments about lovesickness would only fuel her hatred. "I'm far from distracted, dear. I'm likely more conscious than you right now." The woman seemed quite unimpressed and decided to share what she had found. Lykos nodded, surprised she actually had been useful for anything but being a map of the city. She was so shortsighted though...

"With that?" He asked, looking skeptically at the gold. "With that, you're going to buy the fine clothes and silks of nobles to wear over gear that we need to have for departure? With that you're going to buy the mask you need to get in? Pathetic. You tote yourself as the greatest warrior in Riverslade, but you don't even seem to have an inkling of an idea whatk ind of clothes to wear in the presence of a king when you can't don your armour." His voice was low and condescending, a soft growl hidden behind it, "You're lost without being a soldier. You could get away with formal clothing for a king, but this is his daughter's birthday. Do you have any idea what a slap in the face he'll think it is if you show up in anything less than the best? I don't doubt he'd throw his own wife out of the party if she didn't go above and beyond the public's expectations."

He rubbed the bridge of his muzzle between his eyes with a sigh, "Look. Here's what we'll do. Go take care of the things you need - however you need to. We're not getting much done being stuck here together. I'll handle my own clothes, my mask, and any gear I need. We'll meet back at the inn," He explained.

Once the issue had been settled, Shar found himself in a tailor shop with a measuring tape across his shoulders, then his legs, his arms, his neck... He never felt comfortable in these situations. His body was covered in scars, but the tailor didn't ask any questions because he had walked in with an officer's cloak on. The most notable amongst these was one large one, cutting across his fur from right shoulder to his lower left ribs.

"So, attending the princess's party this week? Cutting it a little late to get your clothes, aren't you, lad?" The old tailor asked. He was a a lynx of small stature, a slightly hunched back, and a modest living. He did fantastic work, but his business was unlucky in its location, so he didn't get much nobility to work for - mostly making one-time, semi-formal attire for upper-middle class families.

Shar nodded, "Indeed. I was told so long as I could afford to clothe myself finely, I could attend."

"Oh, I'm very excited... That young girl has been growing up before my very eyes... I watched the king do the same... I haven't been asked to make anything for the event yet... In fact, this is likely all I'll be able to do for it - my doors are closing in just a few weeks," He explained with a wistful smile.

Lykos perked an eyebrow, "Why's that?"

"Oh... my old hands are starting to shake... I'm losing track of the things I finish and don't finish... I can't keep track of those books anymore either - the taxes are getting more complicated every year... you know, when my father was showing me how to run this place as a boy, things were so simple... But now, you have to keep track of every little thing you do... It's time for me to retire... I've a boy who lives on the river out west... He's offered me a place with him and his family... He's been insisting for years, but I just couldn't leave my work... But it'll be nice... a warm bed, a peaceful village... A cozy place to die... Excuse my rudeness, but I think I've deserved that now... Maybe I'll learn to fish..." He rambled on contently and Shar dared not interrupt the musings of an old man.

As the measuring was all finished and recorded, Shar took a seat across from the tailor, who had begun talking about his grandchildren, and how his granddaughter was already pregnant with her second kit. He was a proud man without being vain...

As he seemed finished, nearly an hour later, Lykos rose to his feet. "I haveto be going - I'll stop by again tonight, yes?" The old man smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, sir, it'll be finished... If you'd rather come tomorrow, that's fine, I can always hang onto it over night."

"That won't be necessary - I'm never late if I can help it. But I appreciate all of your help... I don't believe I caught your name..."

"Maron... Maron Amir." The lynx replied with a nod, "And yours?"

Shar paused for a moment... could he lie to this old man? No, he decided. "Lykos... Lykos Shar."

"Shar... I know that name..." The man replied slowly... "Hmm... Are you related to Troy?"

Lykos blinked, his eyes wide, "You knew my great grandfather?"

The lynx laughed, "Troy knew everybody - and I'm a very old man... I told you. Besides, used to be that there weren't quite so many in the world. Troy was a world-renowned fighter, and the borders weren't quite so closed back then. I'd had no idea that he brought the Shars over here... I thought you all would have stayed in the army..."

"We... have, Maron... But when the wars started, sides needed to be clear, allegiance needed to be proven, and my great grandfather worked very hard to keep our name clean... Lot of good it did, with me slandering the Shar name since I was a boy."

"Oh, you're a good man, Lykos. Even I can see it, and my mind's cloudier every day. I don't think there's much you could do to shame your name."

Lykos laughed and shook his head, "I suppose some things are better left undiscussed... Mister Amir... it was a pleasure meeting you - I'll see you again this evening... Perhaps you could tell me more of Troy then, yes?"

"I look forward to it, lad..." He said shakily, clearly winded just from the discussion. Shar pushed out the door after putting his light armour and cloak back on, a bit refreshed from the warm atmosphere of the tailor's shop and the coincidence of meeting likely the one person in the entire nation still alive that would know the name Troy Shar.

The mask was an easy acquisition. He got a simple, burgundy mask with a false golden scale pattern along the muzzle. The mask was fitted for a wolf's head, but looked like a dragon's mask - a bit unique, but something festive would make him less conspicuous for the occasion. He paid cash for it, it was inexpensive, but looked authentic and would serve its purpose. Finally... a few minor tools would be necessary. Shar strode into a back alley in an officer's cloak, his sword at his hip, his mask in his empty hand. He'd been in enough cities and worked in seedy areas often enough to know exactly what to look for.

Two men and a woman - a bear, a fox, and a panther respectively - stopped him midway through the alley. They wore cheap leathers and were just the shadiest bunch you could imagine.

"Well, well... looks like one of our city's beloved guards has come in to pay us a visit. What a kind thought of him..." The panther purred.

Shar didn't flinch, his hand rested softly on the hilt of his blade. "I've come to see if you have anything of use to me. Not information, and I'm not taking you away. I need things and you're not the greatest at hiding your little shop's location. His head cocked slightly over his shoulder to address the pair behind him - as the bear was to his front - "Your fox is clearly the one who carries the inventory. The bear is security, and you're the shopkeeper. Simple triad setup - very good. But don't even push my patience or I'll walk off with your entire shop for free." He turned his back on the bear, "I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm a Lorian blademaster as well as an expert in several other styles. Your backalley fighting isn't going to help you at all."

"Threatening us? Well, I think we shou-"

"Stop. It's not a threat. it's a warning. Do you have lockpicks? I need a couple of questionable chemicals too - any of those?"

"... What kinda chemicals?" the panther asked.

"The kind that'll put someone to sleep," He snapped his fingers, "Like that."

"Yeah, but it'll cost ya."

"We'll negotiate."

--- A few hours later ----

Shar arrived back at the tailor's shop. He had a small pack with his mask and a few of the items purchased in the alley in it. He rapped thrice upon the door... No answer. Poor old man must have fallen asleep or lost track of time. He knocked harder a few more times and cleared his throat, "Maron? Mister Amir?" He called out. Nothing. The door opened - it wasn't locked..? They should have been closed... "... Maron? Hello?"

He began to poke his head around the shop, but couldn't find anybody. The flight of stairs, he assumed, led up to the old man's room. He noticed his own outfit had actually been finished and hung up in the open, but he ignored it for now. Shar's heart was racing as he climbed the stairs quickly, opening ever door. Fabrics and clothes lined all of those rooms... Except one. A simple room. It had a bed, and a desk, and... On the bed, what was that? Shar slowly approached, "Mister Amir?" He asked. No response. When he turned the lump over, he stumbled backward and covered his mouth. Why was he so rattled? The man was... dead, sure, but... How old was he?

Shar quickly began to do the math... At least eighty years old... But why today? Why not in a few weeks? He wanted nothing more than to die peacefully... He could have made it a few more weeks - to see his family, at least, yes? His eyes were closed. It looked like he knew, even before death, that falling asleep would mark his departure. He was smiling...

Shar covered the man's face - he'd seen enough death in his life, he just... wasn't expecting it. A lone, leatherbound book lie on the desk, it was actually clasped shut... He shouldn't have, but he did. Shar opened the book and flicked a few pages. Each was marked with a date and filled with handwriting that gradually grew more shaky and harder to read until the very last one. He didn't have time now, but he stole it. He had to - curiosity. He placed it in his bag and returned to the bottom floor, taking his new formal wear. Folding it neatly to hide it in his pack before heading back for the inn, a bit sullen after the day.