Solace

The Walking Dead-From the beginning -Closed

OC: Lee Min-ho

Information

Height: 5'9

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Brown

Complexion: Fair

Body Composition: Slim

Name: Walter Pierce

Age: Twenty-years old

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Weapon(s): Steel crowbar, hunting knife, Glock 17 handgun

Skills

• Dexterity: With the nature of his occupation, Walter is fast in the usage of his hands; over the coarse of the outbreak, this resulted in him developing a preference for close-quarters combat, boasting proficient use of melee weapons.
• Stamina: Walter is a runner; given his smaller stature and agile nature, he was commonly a member of countless scouting parties and supply runs for his former group, allowing him to remain physically able for long periods of time before requiring rest.
• Survivalist: A feat developed over the course of the outbreak, Walter possesses an adept knowledge in a variety of things like scavenging and hunting to suffice for himself.

Fears

• Afraid of heights.
• Detests acts of brutality.
• Afraid of being deceived / betrayed by others.

Personality: Thoughtful, curious, kind, loyal, and reliable. Headstrong in the face of pressure, his mental fortitude and the will to live has given Walter a stronger mind; though, this has slightly crumbled in light of recent events, and he can be sensitive to the cruelty of others.

Backstory: Walter Pierce was the first child of a Korean mother and Irish father; his mother was an immigrant to the United States, and years before his birth, met his father. He grew up normally in the neighborhood of South Philadelphia, and despite racial differences between him and his peers, the boy got along just fine.

Overall, like most of the children and teenagers growing up, Walter was oriented on making his family proud, doing well in school along with running track, being greatly successful in this aspect. Despite this, the young man was at a lost; he struggled to find something to do with his life after the high school days, and in a series of breakdowns and falling outs, he moved away from home.

On the west coast, Walter did find a semblance of purpose, set to attend college under an athletic scholarship while working at a local cafe in Los Angeles. When the outbreak started, he was quick to leave the major cities with several coworkers. Since then, they had survived on the land and occasional runs into the towns and cities. But over time, the group began to grow desperate with dwindling supplies, and conflicted with one another regularly.

After another unsuccessful supply run, Walter was caught between the paranoia of his group members when tensions reached a fever pitch. His group proceeded to turn on one another, all until he was forced to defend himself. Shaken, Walter took off from his former refuge, and has since then committed to surviving on his own.

Family: Walter has not communicated with his family since the start of the outbreak, but assumes them to be likely deceased.

The Walking Dead-From the beginning -Closed

Alright, I'm feeling that burst of motivation, why not give it another shot.

Dunno if you remember me, but it's been a pretty long time since the first incarnation of this roleplay. I'm always down to crush some zombie skulls, tho

Just some questions since I'm too lazy I haven't read stuff yet, how long has it been (in character) since the start of the outbreak? I did see Day 370, so I'm assuming it's been just a little over a year, but just want to make sure.

Also, has anything grand scale / important (extreme example: crazy large group of crazy people takes over entirety of state and tries to control people, gets overthrown and wiped out / government decides to bomb a bunch of places at the start of the outbreak or something) happened since then?

Oh yeah, I'm also planning to bring back my old character, with a ton of revisions / edits to fit accordingly. If that's okay, of course. :D

Jaysong | Medieval Fantasy [18+]

Well, that worked.

"Ow!" Cleon was moreso lazy than ill-prepared for the woman's retaliation when she took one of the empty cups and slammed it against the top of his head. While he had a moment to whine to himself, it was far more surprising to see her take the former seat of the orc. His eye caught wind of his unlucky orc associate being dragged away, and everyone finally getting off his case.

Taking a breath, Cleon rotated to the front of his seat, cupping his hands together. "Look, I did not mean to insult your womanly pride that much," he found it strange that she, of all people, was still in his presence, even after his witty remark. He knew that he had a bit of an attitude problem, but the man had traveled for weeks on end, and simply put; he just wanted some alone time.

And then, Cleon unwillingly began to let the remorse kick in. Sighing, he pinched his thumbs together, his head sagging down for a moment before he turned to the woman. "I came into town after a week of roasting in the desert," he started, figuring that if the woman was a knight, she was educated enough to understand a bit of empathy. "Wasn't in the mood to get my skull driven down my throat today by that orc, unfortunately."

He dug into his pocket and flipped a few gold coins on to the table, to cover for his past drinks and the woman's tankard. "So, sorry for calling you a prostitute," Cleon shrugged. "Well, unless you consider it a compliment. Anyway, everyone's been bothering me today for some reason, what do you want?"

Jaysong | Medieval Fantasy [18+]

So how is everyone? Seems a bit quiet around here.

@Ambra

Jaysong | Medieval Fantasy [18+]

Fortunately for Cleon, it had not been the first time he'd smelled orc guts, and so while there was a worrisome amount of concern over some dead person, killing was something he had grown accustomed to years ago. He was the one still drinking, after all, and he had a night to celebrate before he would hit the road again.

@LostDestiny

Cleon wondered what would cause more discomfort; the eventual hangover, or the headache he was beginning to suffer from. It seemed like everyone wanted something from him. That, or he was simply that irresistible. Under normal circumstances, he thought that any rational individual would steer away from the person with the gun, but no, it made him the most popular loner in the saloon.

He only turned his face slightly as the inguz spoke to him, his expression blank. Cleon's brow furrowed in a look of contempt, only shown directly when he decided that now may have been the good time to reload. Maybe they'll finally figure out that I don't want to talk to them. Or, he'll look like the most racist person in the world.

While the inguz talked, Cleon pretended to nod in understanding towards his words, placing his flintlock pistol to the table and beginning the ritual of loading the weapon for another shot. He had learned to do so without having to watch the process itself, but he made sure to slow it down so that the inguz would notice.

He had just enough powder for the twenty or so shots still in his pouch, which was not too big of a problem. There were several smugglers in the town that he could bargain from, and Cleon would be set for the rest of the year.

@Ambra @VKAllen

And suddenly, everyone wanted to be best friends with Cleon. He had holstered his pistol just before several footsteps encroached upon his seat from behind, and the male found himself 'apprehended' by the authorities. His face became one in a mix of confusion and annoyance, heaving a loud sigh.

It was only when the second random person wanting to play hero made Cleon explode in hysterical laughter. Slapping his thigh, the male crossed his arms against his chest, his mouth open as he smiled widely. "By any chance, are you a knight?"

Though, before she could give a response, Cleon broke into a light chuckle once more, shaking his head as he reached back for his drink. He took a healthy swig from the cup, holding it out towards the woman in an offer.

"I know this is a lil' sudden," Cleon began, wondering if they knew Ecros was a lawless zone. "But do you take gold or drink? Personally, I prefer the second option, makes the relationship less of a trade and more unique."

Jaysong | Medieval Fantasy [18+]

Ecros was one hell of a shithole.

Cleon Knight figured that only criminals and desperately stupid people came to live in the lawless den. If the man had known that some orc would be trying to give him a not-so-friendly hug, he would have stopped himself from bombarding the place two years ago. Since when did he suddenly become the most suspicious person in the entire continent? Even the most hated species was itching to throw a fist at him.

He did not have the patience to prolong the scene that the orc was creating. While Cleon did continue to try and ignore it, the slobber splattering across his face and the smell of desperate living did make it considerably difficult. Here he was, trying to have a few drinks, thinking about staying for the day and hitting the road the next day. All of a sudden, travelling in the middle of a scorching desert sounded like a party invitation.

Cleon sighed. Everything and his substantial lack of booze was pissing him off. His hand dropped the glass to the table that he was sitting before, taking a breath. He did not bat an eye towards the orc as his fingers swept to the side and drew the flintlock pistol from his holster, not even moving from his seat as his problem was solved.

Sure, it was bloody and loud, and cleaning orc remains was not the most exciting job, but Cleon wasn't going to do anything. He just wanted some peace and quiet, and the saloon, for him, was now exactly that. Holstering the smoking weapon, he sighed in relief.

"Another one," Cleon pushed his cup forward, his expression blank while the keeper obliged.

Jaysong | Medieval Fantasy [18+]

Information

Height: 6'0

Hair Color: Dark auburn

Eye Color: Sea green

Complexion: Tan

Body Composition: Lean-muscular

Name:

Cleon Knight

Age:

Twenty-six years old.

Gender:

Male

Race:

Human (Solarian)

Origin:

Mers, Astrax

Profession:

Stone mason (former), Soldier (former), Bounty hunter (current)

Weapon(s):

Cleon keeps a tomahawk among other things attached to his belt, showing proficiency fighting up close with this weapon. He has little to no experience with swords or the conventional weapons of the outside world, as he is a foreigner to the rest of the continent.

In addition to his hatchet, Cleon retains his flintlock pistol issued to him during the Astrax-Estialian Conflict. He is a fairly accurate shooter in the weapon's effective range, and if needed, he is capable of shooting three times every minute. Outside of the wartime period, he does not demonstrate this unnecessary feat any longer, and only resolves to the pistol when completing a job, saving his own life in a pinch, or eliminating an annoyance quickly.

Personality:

Cleon is very much a blunt and direct person, usually speaking without a filter. A vivid dreamer, he enjoys adventure greatly, but would much prefer to settle down and relax for a while. He may be quick to anger at many times, boasting a temper as fast as he can draw his pistol and pull the trigger.

Even then, Cleon enjoys discussion when there is discussion to be held. He is a bit of a wisecrack, but usually tends to know when too much is too much, unless it comes to drinking. The man is prone to periods of isolation, given his lack of knowledge of the world outside his home country, which does push him slightly over the edge faster at times.

If given enough of a chance, Cleon is kind and a true friend, and one may see the cracks and instabilities that trouble the man within his mental fortress.

Biography:

Cleon Knight was the name bestowed upon the infant when he was left as an orphan. Unlike the other boys and girls, he grew up with a fascination for the outside world beyond theirs, admiring the stories of kings and knights, of which he had been named after. Even after he turned eight and he was adopted, he never considered them to be his true family, and often left home to return to his friends at the orphanage.

Cleon was taught how to read and write by his adoptive father, of whom was the only close person to him in the family. As the only person who had truly wanted the boy as a part of their family, his adoptive father often argued with his mother, eventually creating such a rift that she took her two daughters and left them.

He would grow up to be a normal young man, his adoptive father able to send him to school for a better education. Cleon did struggle with his studies, but persevered and decided to follow his adoptive father's steps as a worker for the city.

Several years down the line, Astrax announced that a draft would be held after tensions with Estiala had reached a boiling point. Cleon was selected, sent off to fight a 'war' - he was in numerous battles and fought in Ecros, where the entire region's destruction resulted in a stalemate between Astrax and Estiala.

Afterwards, when Cleon returned home, he was informed that his adoptive father had passed away from illness. He abandoned his former home, wishing to find a new one as he explores the outside world.

Other:

Cleon has a fondness for cats.

Group Fantasy RP

I'm interested! Keeping my eye on this one.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Okay, another announcement. And sadly, this is the last announcement.

This RP is not going to continue. This is not because of the lack of interest of the RPers, but a multitude of factors melded together into one (people not responding to our inquiries, people beginning to drop out cause they have no motivation, etc). As I'm typing this, I'm not sure how to feel. I'm not certain if I feel frustrated or just plain sad with the situation. It appears that, no matter how much effort @Solace and I put into a RP, it just flops.

And so, I'm not going to keep dragging this along. This RP is now closed. With that, I will withdraw from all group RPs, but will remain active on the site. Perhaps you'll see me roaming about the 1x1 Interest Checks.

Ciao.

Ambra

Separately, I'll write off in a more regulated and articulated response.

So like, yes this sucks because we've been stressing for activity over the last few days. Yeah, it sucks that you guys got some posts up and it finally opens up room for us to move on. And yeah, it sucks that it only just stared and wasn't even beginning to get into anything.

I don't usually organize and coordinate roleplays in an open manner like this one. I've done it very sparingly in the past because I'm prone to being accused of doing too much/putting my own health and mind under huge stress to get things done.

The reasoning why Ambra was always really direct and pushing for activity is because every roleplay that we've done in the past, each and every one of these roleplays that we've worked and written and put our minds under immense pressure to theorize and make, it's failed.

@RainDash knows from another certain roleplay that we did, where we weren't as proactive as we were in ensuring activity, one that we ran for a year and I even wrote music for, had not gotten past the first-second portions of the driven story because we were lenient with people going about their own roleplays instead of our own creation.

@Ambra has responsibilities. I have responsibilities and taxing jobs to complete in my daily life. RPG is far from being our priority in life, obviously. But when you work so hard for something, with so many hopes that it won't falter like a teetering tower of blocks, for that something to finally be the one thing you can be proud of actually being successful with because it's the very thing you love, of course someone like @Ambra will get upset at the fact that something isn't right.

I am, or was, a passionate writer for a lot of times. No need to delve into my history, but this is one of those things that's just become something that isn't motivating to come to, anymore. I love the concepts that I wanted to incorporate, the world I wanted to introduce, the characters that you and I all created and wanted to write for.

Sadly, to cut it short, I'm not motivated to continue this, any longer. It took a long time of thinking, and in the end, to save me the longtime stress of dealing with the time I wasted, we're going to end the roleplay here. There's no animosity intended obviously, Ambra is upset of course but I'm just delivering our will.

Thanks for helping us try to start something like this. I needed the kick of inspiration to create something that I enjoyed for a long time, and for the first week or so, I felt that joy. I don't think I'll be creating any more roleplays, I'm getting way too old and gaining less time due to personal life stuff.

If I'm not around RPG to see you in threads and stuff, good luck writing and I want to say continue being awesome in life. I know it's busy and might be tough but thank you for helping us with the first steps.

Good luck!

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Rufus Santer

Jaelyn seemed to find Rufus a jester of sorts, to which the squire held no protest. The young man looked between the princess and the other male, joined by a younger girl. They had simply watched their exchange, and continued to do so as they observed silently. It unnerved Rufus, slightly.

"He will," the squire nodded, taking a few steps away from Jaelyn. "But the poor man needs coin. What's a knight without armor?"

Rufus had been extremely fortunate to become a vassal to House Ralei, though as with all squires, he had a distinct lack of a salary as an envoy for the House. His tutelage had been enough for him to secure a paying job in the Higher Cities, and slowly, the young man was building up his stash of golden foxes.

Obviously, to Jaelyn, he was only joking. Even if he was not being paid, Rufus was sworn to protect the people of House Ralei; he was no sellsword, bartering his loyalties to the highest bidder. "Let us return to the event before your mother desires my head on a pike."

@Ambra @Wernher

---

---

Sigurd Lear

When his father and mother had disembarked from their horses and finished their discussion, Sigurd was prompted by a maester alongside his family that their attendance was duly necessary, as they were late arrivals. The Northern bannermen dispersed as necessary, while the Lords of each House and their families followed the leading maesters to the tournament grounds.

Sigurd looked to his sisters. "It's time to go," he said, following his parents through the city of the Windkeep. As they weaved around a fountain at the town square, the young man walked on with his hands held together behind his back, feeling him and his family catch the eye of many. They were the Great House of the North, after all; they were easily recognizable, and truthfully, it made him slightly uncomfortable.

After a bit of walking, the scenery and environment changed to that of a large field, on the opposite end of the city. Sigurd was impressed by the gathering of the diverse continent, receiving many cheers as they were granted a clear path to the pavilion. Like most of the architecture, it was gilded and slightly elevated, likely built atop of a hilly portion that the West was known for.

"Ulfar Lear!"

A distinctive voice, authoritative and reminiscent of the North, shook Sigurd from his thoughts as they were stepping into the pavilion. "Your Grace," he uttered instinctively as the King of Estiala rose from his makeshift throne of a chair, and personally greeted his parents. A younger boy sat in the lap of an older woman, presuming them to be the Queen and Prince.

Soren Rathmore had always been a friend to the North, as Sigurd learned of the king's history. The King had been raised under their grandfather, and so, Soren took kindly to the virtues of the North. "Come, Euric!" he motioned a hand towards Lord and Lady Ralei, smiling.

@RainDash @Ellion @Wernher @HushedWhispers @NarcissisticPotato [@any other character in pavilion]