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- Whirlwind 12 yrs ago
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Why are Mondays so long?
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Roleplayer off and on for 12 years.
Most Recent Posts
Calling Dark Angel, ElderF, and TheWanderer... Please pick up your RPG phone.
Mia turned the letter and rune over and over in her palm. She walked closer to the castle, then turned and walked back closer to the comfort of the tree line. She’d re-convince herself to go ahead, walking closer again, then turning and walking back. Really, what crime had she committed? Okay, so a few stolen goods. Just to survive though! Surely the letter was not a trap to lure her in for such minute, petty things. Perhaps it was sincere. Or they wanted to get her information about the attack on her home. Yes that was more than likely it. Maybe they could even have her family waiting inside for her. So could always take the chance right?
A soft sigh left her lips as she gripped the piece and letter a bit tightly before walking up to the guards at the front. She was intimidated straight off, being a short girl and only 18. Her large brown eyes looked them up and down, as if waiting for them to state their business instead of the other way around. ”Well?” one finally said, startling the girl into smiling and fumbling with the rune in her hand til she dropped it. ”Oh sorry,” she mumbled, though it wasn’t clear if it was to the guard or the rune. She picked it up though and showed it to the guard, and unsure look on her visage. ”I… I think I’m supposed to see the king?” she asked, hoping the guard knew more than she did.
Unamused seeming, the man nodded and turned, heading towards the interior of the castle with Mia taking two steps for every one he did. She stuffed the letter back into her bag, holding it and her flask of water closely to her body. She had taken a bath that morning, but her clothes were not exactly what she’d always pictured meeting royalty in. And her long dark hair was tied in a rather sloppy bun to keep her face clear, which she thought was more presentable.
Mia entered upon a rather intimidating scene. There was the king and queen, as well as a very pretty woman and a large, scary man who looked quite angry. Several guards, a girl with a big hammer, and three men, one very tall with red hair who stood out, too. She suddenly felt very average and just cleared her throat to announce her presence rather than interrupt whatever was going on, as the guard who escorted her bowed towards the king and queen before leaving, Mia fiddling with her bag and smiling nervously. "So... this is the castle?" she grinned, hoping to ease whatever tension permeated the room currently.
A soft sigh left her lips as she gripped the piece and letter a bit tightly before walking up to the guards at the front. She was intimidated straight off, being a short girl and only 18. Her large brown eyes looked them up and down, as if waiting for them to state their business instead of the other way around. ”Well?” one finally said, startling the girl into smiling and fumbling with the rune in her hand til she dropped it. ”Oh sorry,” she mumbled, though it wasn’t clear if it was to the guard or the rune. She picked it up though and showed it to the guard, and unsure look on her visage. ”I… I think I’m supposed to see the king?” she asked, hoping the guard knew more than she did.
Unamused seeming, the man nodded and turned, heading towards the interior of the castle with Mia taking two steps for every one he did. She stuffed the letter back into her bag, holding it and her flask of water closely to her body. She had taken a bath that morning, but her clothes were not exactly what she’d always pictured meeting royalty in. And her long dark hair was tied in a rather sloppy bun to keep her face clear, which she thought was more presentable.
Mia entered upon a rather intimidating scene. There was the king and queen, as well as a very pretty woman and a large, scary man who looked quite angry. Several guards, a girl with a big hammer, and three men, one very tall with red hair who stood out, too. She suddenly felt very average and just cleared her throat to announce her presence rather than interrupt whatever was going on, as the guard who escorted her bowed towards the king and queen before leaving, Mia fiddling with her bag and smiling nervously. "So... this is the castle?" she grinned, hoping to ease whatever tension permeated the room currently.
Apollo said
Can you guys give me an idea of what types of scenarios you would be interested? Zombies? World War? Political Assassination? That way I have a better feel for the kinds of things we should do in the story.
Something post apocalyptic feeling for sure I think.
Drake said
Am I the only American here? I'm legitimately thinking I am.
Nope
Cricket Westley
A sharp gasp sliced the still air like a knife. Her sea blue eyes had opened with a start, blinking and looking up at a stark white ceiling. Her lips were parted in the aftermath of her intake of breath, and she could feel her heart rapidly racing from inside her. Closing her lips and swallowing, licking her dry lips and realizing she must have slept with her mouth open, she swallowed again to wet her throat. Strands of brown hair were clouding her vision, and she brushed them aside before sitting up. As she did, she looked down at herself. She appeared to be wearing black yoga pants, her legs twisted up in white covers, and her shirt was an off the shoulder, slouchy tan sweatshirt. She looked at her hands, turning them over and over. These were her hands? She frowned heavily, quickly looking up at her surroundings. Wait… where was she? Who was she?
Tossing the covers aside like a horse kicking sand before a gallop, she leapt from her bed and raced to the mirror in the room, seemingly connected to the dresser. She tried peering at herself through the words, seeing tanned, freckled skin, dark hair with a few high lights, blue grey eyes, and thin lips pulled across her white teeth. Frowning, she didn’t recognize herself at all. She took a step back, eyes narrowed, and read the words scrawled on the mirror in what appeared to be lipstick. I refuse to give up!!! it said. She blinked a few times, slowing coming to terms with the fact that she must be familiar with all this, but a head injury perhaps? Amnesia? Hmm…
She began exploring her room, finding the teddy with her name, Cricket Westley, and a picture of a baby on her dresser. She lifted her shirt to see fresh stretchmarks, pink and shaped like lightning crisscrossing her stomach and confirming to her that this was her child. She couldn’t even remember his name… A camera next to it, which she began snapping with, and a postcard tucked under the teddy. The sunsets I’ve seen since being here can’t compare to your beauty. I miss you. Xoxo She felt a stirring in her chest. A longing. But she had no idea who or what for. Sighing, she set the camera and postcard down, rubbing her temples and beginning to pull out all the dresser drawers, search under the mattress, trying to figure out anything else. She was interrupted by a sound that sounded like blasting air, turning and seeing her door open. She’d been so focused on the contents of her room she hadn’t even bothered with the door. But now she took a step towards it, barefoot and feeling the chill of the hallway floor as she looked around at others leaving their rooms. They all looked as equally confused as she did, so she frowned and just continued to look about, corralled into a central room where she crossed her arms defensively, still thinking and trying to understand. Trying to remember.
A sharp gasp sliced the still air like a knife. Her sea blue eyes had opened with a start, blinking and looking up at a stark white ceiling. Her lips were parted in the aftermath of her intake of breath, and she could feel her heart rapidly racing from inside her. Closing her lips and swallowing, licking her dry lips and realizing she must have slept with her mouth open, she swallowed again to wet her throat. Strands of brown hair were clouding her vision, and she brushed them aside before sitting up. As she did, she looked down at herself. She appeared to be wearing black yoga pants, her legs twisted up in white covers, and her shirt was an off the shoulder, slouchy tan sweatshirt. She looked at her hands, turning them over and over. These were her hands? She frowned heavily, quickly looking up at her surroundings. Wait… where was she? Who was she?
Tossing the covers aside like a horse kicking sand before a gallop, she leapt from her bed and raced to the mirror in the room, seemingly connected to the dresser. She tried peering at herself through the words, seeing tanned, freckled skin, dark hair with a few high lights, blue grey eyes, and thin lips pulled across her white teeth. Frowning, she didn’t recognize herself at all. She took a step back, eyes narrowed, and read the words scrawled on the mirror in what appeared to be lipstick. I refuse to give up!!! it said. She blinked a few times, slowing coming to terms with the fact that she must be familiar with all this, but a head injury perhaps? Amnesia? Hmm…
She began exploring her room, finding the teddy with her name, Cricket Westley, and a picture of a baby on her dresser. She lifted her shirt to see fresh stretchmarks, pink and shaped like lightning crisscrossing her stomach and confirming to her that this was her child. She couldn’t even remember his name… A camera next to it, which she began snapping with, and a postcard tucked under the teddy. The sunsets I’ve seen since being here can’t compare to your beauty. I miss you. Xoxo She felt a stirring in her chest. A longing. But she had no idea who or what for. Sighing, she set the camera and postcard down, rubbing her temples and beginning to pull out all the dresser drawers, search under the mattress, trying to figure out anything else. She was interrupted by a sound that sounded like blasting air, turning and seeing her door open. She’d been so focused on the contents of her room she hadn’t even bothered with the door. But now she took a step towards it, barefoot and feeling the chill of the hallway floor as she looked around at others leaving their rooms. They all looked as equally confused as she did, so she frowned and just continued to look about, corralled into a central room where she crossed her arms defensively, still thinking and trying to understand. Trying to remember.
Sounds like fun!
Enalais said
Yay it's time to with Partisan. See Whirl I'm clever.
We've got Blox, Czechmate, & Sheriffllama for the Swindlers, Enalais is a detective, QT for the Angels. Myst has supporting charries for both gangs, & I have a supporting one for the Angels. (At least I think that's what we have). But yeah Idk anything about what they want for the third gang XD
Partisan said
Are you guys still accepting?Also, once again, Enalais, hi. I'm not stalking you, I swear.
Not a GM, but I'm pretty sure they are :)
Yvette’s blurry vision peeked through slitted eyelids as she moaned softly. Her head felt like it weighed 100lbs. She reached up to touch her head, finding blood and grimacing. She must have hit her head, or it hit something. Not to mention her shoulder was achey and her hip burned. She rubbed her eyes, trying to see more clearly. Looking at her shoulder, it appeared to have bits of glass in it, and looking next to her, it must have been from the window which was shattered. She let out a little whimper, now looking to her hip and seeing a bit of metal having gone through the seatbelt and into her skin, tying her to the belt in a way. If she unclicked the belt, it would pull out the metal, and she had always heard if you got stabbed or something to leave the weapon put cause pulling it out caused more bleeding. She felt her hands begin to shake and eyes looking panicky as she glanced up, seeing a man who was checking people. Looking for survivors? ”Help! Please!” she called out to him, scared and so thankful just to see another person alive.
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