Very well, Roleplay commence, Get to the Starting post.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
START.
Sneeze fiddled with his toolbelt, frowning at the lack of parts for him to choose from. He took out a metal casing, a perfectly shaped box of iron, containing a small music mechanism. It played one note, and it went higher and higher every turn of the lever. The gremlin played a short song on his music box, a melody that was... well, terrible. He wasn't a music kind of person. The only reason he was in this town was to sell a few contraptions, including the one he held in his hands. Leaning on a local tavern's exterior wall, he pulled out the other mechanisms, a pocket knife that included a tab for a watch, as well as a lesser model of his mask, a simple filter that molded to your mouth's shape, with a strap to keep it steady. All of the other copies had sold by now, to various people around the city. He held the last models that he would keep for himself. People would die for contraptions made by Sneeze, as he was a sort of legend around the lands for his amazing creations, especially his personal hang glider, used by many.
Julianna sat alone, eating an apple from the tree above her. A city was behind her, and the noices were loud. She winced. People annoyed her - she found in hard to even look someone in the eye. Years of solitude had made her hate any other sentient life, and the one time she had ever gotten close to someone had ended in distaster. There was no point in communicating - she was perfectly well off on her own. She sniffed, and notched an arrow into her bow. It was time to hunt - she wasn't going to have apples for dinner. Straying through the dense forest, she smiled. This was what it was like to live. Alone, the sounds of the birds above her, the whistling of insects, and the sound of wind through trees. That was all she needed in life. A nice, comfortable forest filled with animals to hunt. The company of myself, She thought. All I ever want.
She heared a rustle in the bushes, and she spun and let an arrow fly towards the sound. A small thud, along with a satisfying squeel, came afterwords. She jogged towards the wild pig, and tore out the arrow with a squelching sound. Blood splattered forward, and yet somehow the pig was still alive. Struggling, but sadly still alive. She brought her arrow up, and brought it through the pigs eye. It immediatley stop struggling.
"Well," She muttered. "Thats that."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
"dere you are..." The bestial voice whispered, blown away as quickly as it came by the wind, a lone Buck stood grazing upon the berries and grasses in the forest floor, unaware of the drooling greenskin that stood only several metres away, observing it, craving it, laughing silently at it's inevitable demise. It hadn't even time to cry out when it's mouth was clamped shut by large, muscular, greyish green hand, a large barbed black blade lodged in its throat as it slowly lost feeling in its legs, its eyes darting quickly as they started to fade to black, a smooth flow of blood draining out of the gash made by the blade. "Heheh, dat's a good deer, just die nice an' silent, don' make a word, dem 'umies are lookin' fer me." The Ork whispered in the bucks ear, a moment before its eyelids shut and its body went limp. "Good fing I'z don't got no blood on me, dat's a reeul chore t'clean out." The Ork gingerly lifted the carcass of the deer, slinging it silently over his back and vanishing into the trees.
((Neil, If you could, replace "pig" with Hog in future posts, we're minecrafty, but not all that much.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
Sneeze sighed, returning his inventions to his belt's pack. He left town, not wanting to see it's inhabitants again for a long time. His money in his pocket, he walked out of the town swiftly, counting the day's money. It added up to about 1200 coins, a large amount. After half an hour of walking, and a few other minutes spent beating himself up for walking the complete wrong way, he checked his map. He was walking the right way in the first place, and silently cursed under his breath. "Eh, I need friends. Smart ones. Ones that aren't gamblers, or fighters, or other undesirables..." Of course, he walked right past the Elf. His gremlin ears, sharp and ready to catch the slightest sound, heard her arrow's thuds. A slight twang came first, accompanied by a pig's terrible squeal of pain. Following the sound, he was interested in making a new friend, or atleast seeing someone new. He wasn't in a rush to find civilization, and he swiftly rushed through the bushes. An elven beauty, a woman, crouching over a dead pig. An arrow protruded from it's forehead, a bloody hole left in it's side from an already taken out arrow. Sneeze smiled at the woman. " 'ello, ma'am. That's a nice shot you have there. I wish I had a shot like that, eh?"
((Aight. I knew Pig sounded lame, but Boar sounded a tad 'not very food-ish'. Hog completely slipped my mind.))
Julianna turned and glared. Something was trying to talk to her. She turned away, and started to strip the hog of it's skin.
"Get out of my sight, unless you want to be lie down beside this hog in a funeral." She murmered quietly, only just load enough so the thing could hear.
"Seriously. Go."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Sneeze frowned. "Sorry for intruding, ma'am. I don't mean you any harm, I'm just a tad lonely, and you seem a bit lonely too. I apologize. I'm just, searching for a friend. Gremlins don't find friends too easily, you know..." He walked off, saddened by her obvious act of displeasure.
Character application: (Be descriptive)
Name: (First and last) John Marston
Age:
Race: (New races may be suggested in the same post.) Dwarfs
Appearance: (Clothing included, armour/miscellaneous carried items is optional) Assassin skin normally in iron armor
Sex: (Gender) Male
Personality: (Optional, leaving it blank means oyu will build up your personality with others over time, or you're just lazy bastards. :biggrin.gif: ) My opinions will vary and I dont care If somthing isnt right. Things will be brief
Equipment: (No shirt, no shoes, no service. ]:I) Iron armor
Biography: (Life story and a small instance form that life, which will help me determine whether you are able to participate or not.) my past is scrambled. Never stay in one place too long because is normally isnt standing. Always looking for someplace to settle but i never find it.
Additional Facts: (Entirely Optional, put whatever you want us to know about your character here) Seen alot i guess. Im prepared for alot of things.
Proposition: (Leave blank if you have nothing.)
(And remember, I will be posting character sheets here for convienience.)
((Absolutely not. You have put absolutely no effort into this, the name is unoriginal, there are not details, and age is left out completely, the appearance? The only thing I'm told is an assasin "Skin" with iron armour. No, if this is supposed to be a joke, it's actually somewhat humorous, but still, no.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
Julianna sneared. "Believe me. Being in solitude is better than being near people. They always end up hurting you in the end." She sighed, and grabbed some of the tinder she had set aside in her quiver. Setting up a small fire, she set small strips of pig over the flames. It wasn't the best fire, but I would have to do.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Sneeze frowned, stopping a few feet off. "I like people. I like studying different emotions, and how humans act. Elves, too. Don't find many around these days... But, I'm obviously a bother, so. Bye." He kept walking, still disheartened. A tear splashed off of his nose, and a few more followed, dripping onto his knees as he slowly trotted away.
Julianna felt something in her stomach, that was strange and unfamiliar - guilt. This thing seemed innocent, and just wanted to talk to someone.
"You know what? Fine. C'mere, have some pig." She sighed, and threw another slab of meat over the fire. What was she doing? The next thing she knew, she'd be living in some city.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Carver traveled through the wilds just as he had been doing his whole life, looking for a town where he could buy some supplies. He came across a trail of unrecognizable footprints, broken branches and flattened grass. He was often able to recognize just what it was based on it's footprints, but not this time. Carver followed them, suspecting it could be a large animal, perhaps it was injured and unable to walk right, that would explain the footprints. He silently, but quickly followed the trail. Not a minute later, he spotted an .. Ork? The Ork was carrying a deer. Carver stopped moving and controlled his breathing, he waited for the Ork to move along and followed from a distance, trying to stay undected. He wanted to see where the Ork was headed, perhaps there was a settlement nearby
Name: Ragnar Godefroy (know by many as the Frisian.)
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance:
Ragnar is a 5'11fair-haired man who has shoulder length hair and is usually in a mess. he has but one eye. A scar reaching from his forehead down to his jaw replaces his left eye. Years of enslavement has adorned his pale body with scars. Working at manual labor has given him a muscular body. he wears a tattered wool tunic and pants with leather shoes and a cloak made from wolf skin.
Personality:
Ragnar has a cold and cunning personality. As a child he was taught that your family and a warriors death in battle was all a man could hope for. he longs to have a friend and would gladly give his life for one, but due to many years of enslavement he gets close to know one out of fear that they will betray him given the chance. he longs for a worthy death in battle and will fight anyone opponent that challenges him.
Sex: Male
Equipment:
he wears little armor if any to battle believing if its your day to die than no amount of armor in this world will save you. he keeps a spear and sword close at hand. a leather strap strung around his waist holds in place a bearded axe. he keeps a sharp skinning knife in his boot and a small satchel bag containing a flint and steel, cloth bandages, and a honing stone to sharpen his sword etc.
Biography:
Ragnar was the third son to king Wrothgar of the Frisian isles. His home land being far to the north were the winters are brutal and the growing season for crops last only for 3 months. food was a constant worry on everyone minds even the noble family had to ration food to survive. Frisian men take to the seas Raiding the coasts of Neighboring villages stealing valuables and food to bring back the their family's. at the age of five Frisian boys are taken by their father's away from the village to train in the mountains. Ragnar being a son of the king he's training was more severe than most. he was trained to be an expert in all manners of weapons ranging from spears to bows. Wrothgar was hard on the boy often beating him with a wooden rod if he did something wrong in hes training. at age ten his father was not satisfied with the amount of effort Ragnar was putting into his training so as punishment his father tore out Ragnar's left eye with a sword slash. Ragnar not wanting to dissatisfy his father poured heart and soul into his training. at age fifteen Ragnar rejoined his village meeting his two older brothers for the first time. he quickly made a name for himself over the past year raiding villages and fighting in a war with a neighboring country. he was well know for his skills of war and was respected by even the most hardened warriors. even his father recognized his son's skill and named him heir to the throne. His two older brothers who before would give their life for their younger brother now only felt hatred for him. On his sixteenth birthday Ragnar was betrayed by his brothers while they were out at sea, he was sold to some Goblinz slavers for three silver pieces and was taken far into goblin territory were he spent the next the next seven years under the whips of the Goblinz. He new not to try and escape until the right moment after witnessing a fellow slave trying his luck. He didn't make it 50 yards when the orks ran him down and nearly beat him to death. Ragnar's Patience paid off and a opportunity showed its self when his collar finally rusted enough for him to break it off and escape under the cover of darkness. The skills his father taught him where put to good use in the two years it took for him to make it out of Goblinz territory and away from the Ork hunters who hounded him relentlessly.
Mario
Sneeze smiled at the woman. His toothy gremlin grin was actually a bit cute, him being all dressed up in his leather attire, his tiny face and strange ears. Sneeze's feet shuffled back to the woman, his eyes narrowing in pleasure that he was accepted. "Thank you, ma'am. Very kind of you." He pulled out his music box quickly, trying to impress her and acting as if he was fiddling. It played a crude tune, but was oddly familiar to twinkle twinkle little star. Fiddling with a minuscule hole in the side below the lever, it played a bit better, now more intense and swifter. "I won't be needing that much hog meat though, ma'am. My tiny stomach can't handle stringy meat, and I've already eaten a few of my roasted acorns."
((All but Doris Dwarf accepted. Doris, I'm afraid that your character is much more... Physicaly bestial than man. I know the concept of Quadrapeds, but I'm afrais I cannot accept your application for this fact alone. More of a description wold also be appreciated, perhaps a birdman?))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
After wondering aimlessly for many days Ragnar found himself overlooking a bustling city. he jingled the pouch of coin he held in his hand, Maybe theres a tavern, i could use a cold brew. the thought of a cold beer in hand sent shivers of delight running up his spine. Ragnar quickened his pace and headed for the city. the city was loud and noisy people were scrambling here and there, the smell of wet dog and sewer waste filled his nostrils. Ragnar pulled his hood over his head and clinched his nose. People crowded the streets making it hard for Ragnar to find his way and was soon swept away with the crowd. "Move!" he shouted pushing people out of the way. Staggering out of the thick of the crowd and stumbled into a empty alley way. "damn city, damn people." he muttered. Ragnar brushed himself off looking around and there it was, a sight that nearly brought a tear to his eye a big wooden sign hanging just above his head. " The Drunken Dragon Tavern" he read aloud. The door to the tavern had a finely carved dragon curled around a flagon. It was a simple two story building nestled neatly between a shoe shop to its right and a condemned building to the left. The heavy wooden door squeaked open on rusty hinges revealing a poorly lite room with all manners of trophies of beast Ragnar never seen before. A Plump pear shaped man Sporting a bright red beard flowing past his waist nearly to his knees."can i help ya, boy" the man said in a deep scruffy voice "yeah i could do with some ale" replied Ragnar. "ya got coin?" "will this do?" Ragnar tossed the pouch of coin to the man, he emptied the contents of the pouch in his hand, "alright have a seat and ill fetch ya some ale."
-Sun Tzu
Sneeze fiddled with his toolbelt, frowning at the lack of parts for him to choose from. He took out a metal casing, a perfectly shaped box of iron, containing a small music mechanism. It played one note, and it went higher and higher every turn of the lever. The gremlin played a short song on his music box, a melody that was... well, terrible. He wasn't a music kind of person. The only reason he was in this town was to sell a few contraptions, including the one he held in his hands. Leaning on a local tavern's exterior wall, he pulled out the other mechanisms, a pocket knife that included a tab for a watch, as well as a lesser model of his mask, a simple filter that molded to your mouth's shape, with a strap to keep it steady. All of the other copies had sold by now, to various people around the city. He held the last models that he would keep for himself. People would die for contraptions made by Sneeze, as he was a sort of legend around the lands for his amazing creations, especially his personal hang glider, used by many.
The company of myself, She thought. All I ever want.
She heared a rustle in the bushes, and she spun and let an arrow fly towards the sound. A small thud, along with a satisfying squeel, came afterwords. She jogged towards the wild pig, and tore out the arrow with a squelching sound. Blood splattered forward, and yet somehow the pig was still alive. Struggling, but sadly still alive. She brought her arrow up, and brought it through the pigs eye. It immediatley stop struggling.
"Well," She muttered. "Thats that."
((Neil, If you could, replace "pig" with Hog in future posts, we're minecrafty, but not all that much.))
-Sun Tzu
Julianna turned and glared. Something was trying to talk to her. She turned away, and started to strip the hog of it's skin.
"Get out of my sight, unless you want to be lie down beside this hog in a funeral." She murmered quietly, only just load enough so the thing could hear.
"Seriously. Go."
Name: (First and last) John Marston
Age:
Race: (New races may be suggested in the same post.) Dwarfs
Appearance: (Clothing included, armour/miscellaneous carried items is optional) Assassin skin normally in iron armor
Sex: (Gender) Male
Personality: (Optional, leaving it blank means oyu will build up your personality with others over time, or you're just lazy bastards. :biggrin.gif: ) My opinions will vary and I dont care If somthing isnt right. Things will be brief
Equipment: (No shirt, no shoes, no service. ]:I) Iron armor
Biography: (Life story and a small instance form that life, which will help me determine whether you are able to participate or not.) my past is scrambled. Never stay in one place too long because is normally isnt standing. Always looking for someplace to settle but i never find it.
Additional Facts: (Entirely Optional, put whatever you want us to know about your character here) Seen alot i guess. Im prepared for alot of things.
Proposition: (Leave blank if you have nothing.)
(And remember, I will be posting character sheets here for convienience.)
14289
And Mario. By the way he is a terrible plumber.
-Sun Tzu
"You know what? Fine. C'mere, have some pig." She sighed, and threw another slab of meat over the fire. What was she doing? The next thing she knew, she'd be living in some city.
Carver traveled through the wilds just as he had been doing his whole life, looking for a town where he could buy some supplies. He came across a trail of unrecognizable footprints, broken branches and flattened grass. He was often able to recognize just what it was based on it's footprints, but not this time. Carver followed them, suspecting it could be a large animal, perhaps it was injured and unable to walk right, that would explain the footprints. He silently, but quickly followed the trail. Not a minute later, he spotted an .. Ork? The Ork was carrying a deer. Carver stopped moving and controlled his breathing, he waited for the Ork to move along and followed from a distance, trying to stay undected. He wanted to see where the Ork was headed, perhaps there was a settlement nearby
Name: Ragnar Godefroy (know by many as the Frisian.)
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance:
Ragnar is a 5'11fair-haired man who has shoulder length hair and is usually in a mess. he has but one eye. A scar reaching from his forehead down to his jaw replaces his left eye. Years of enslavement has adorned his pale body with scars. Working at manual labor has given him a muscular body. he wears a tattered wool tunic and pants with leather shoes and a cloak made from wolf skin.
Personality:
Ragnar has a cold and cunning personality. As a child he was taught that your family and a warriors death in battle was all a man could hope for. he longs to have a friend and would gladly give his life for one, but due to many years of enslavement he gets close to know one out of fear that they will betray him given the chance. he longs for a worthy death in battle and will fight anyone opponent that challenges him.
Sex: Male
Equipment:
he wears little armor if any to battle believing if its your day to die than no amount of armor in this world will save you. he keeps a spear and sword close at hand. a leather strap strung around his waist holds in place a bearded axe. he keeps a sharp skinning knife in his boot and a small satchel bag containing a flint and steel, cloth bandages, and a honing stone to sharpen his sword etc.
Biography:
Ragnar was the third son to king Wrothgar of the Frisian isles. His home land being far to the north were the winters are brutal and the growing season for crops last only for 3 months. food was a constant worry on everyone minds even the noble family had to ration food to survive. Frisian men take to the seas Raiding the coasts of Neighboring villages stealing valuables and food to bring back the their family's. at the age of five Frisian boys are taken by their father's away from the village to train in the mountains. Ragnar being a son of the king he's training was more severe than most. he was trained to be an expert in all manners of weapons ranging from spears to bows. Wrothgar was hard on the boy often beating him with a wooden rod if he did something wrong in hes training. at age ten his father was not satisfied with the amount of effort Ragnar was putting into his training so as punishment his father tore out Ragnar's left eye with a sword slash. Ragnar not wanting to dissatisfy his father poured heart and soul into his training. at age fifteen Ragnar rejoined his village meeting his two older brothers for the first time. he quickly made a name for himself over the past year raiding villages and fighting in a war with a neighboring country. he was well know for his skills of war and was respected by even the most hardened warriors. even his father recognized his son's skill and named him heir to the throne. His two older brothers who before would give their life for their younger brother now only felt hatred for him. On his sixteenth birthday Ragnar was betrayed by his brothers while they were out at sea, he was sold to some Goblinz slavers for three silver pieces and was taken far into goblin territory were he spent the next the next seven years under the whips of the Goblinz. He new not to try and escape until the right moment after witnessing a fellow slave trying his luck. He didn't make it 50 yards when the orks ran him down and nearly beat him to death. Ragnar's Patience paid off and a opportunity showed its self when his collar finally rusted enough for him to break it off and escape under the cover of darkness. The skills his father taught him where put to good use in the two years it took for him to make it out of Goblinz territory and away from the Ork hunters who hounded him relentlessly.
Mario
-Sun Tzu