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Post by Eros on Sept 30, 2008 7:44:08 GMT -5
Okies, I'm kinda curious of how you guys (and gals) role-play other characters that aren't in this site. So if you have some RP posts out of OT you'd like to share, I (and maybe others) would be glad to read them.
Anyways, here's one between me and... Ishi-kun/Eusebius. Also explains why I call him Ishi-kun:
Zilong watched in horror as Ishimaru commited suicide. Then, as if a large force had push his back, he ran forwards and dropped to his knees, taking Ishimaru into his arms, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"No! Why, why this, Akai-san?" he cried, kissing the dead man. But it was useless. He was a corpse- lifeless and without a soul. Zilong kissed him again, this time gentler and on the lips, hoping that Xuande wouldn't mind.
His whole world fell.
Yeppers, Ancient Chinese Brokeback Mountain! Only he's Earnest and I'm Jack XD
And this is my proof to Hera, that I can be a good little wife for Philocrates ;D:
Her heart quickened its beating pace when she heard his anger. Breaking into a fast, almost run-like walk, she reached for the door with hesitation, before- "My lady! Lord Nagamasa is currently in a furious rage! Please do not-" The lone guard was immediately knocked out with a strong punch in the face. Kicking his head out of her way, something which Oichi never thought she'd do, she knocked twice, before quietly walking in, gently sliding the door close.
A silent sigh left her parted lips as soon her gaze stopped on the wakizashi, standing upright on the floor. Kneeling beside him, she put a hand on his back, giving his bandaged one a brief glance. The visit to Kai had obviously been disastrous, and Oichi had a terrible feeling that the Tiger of Kai said something negative about her, unlike his great wife, Lady Sanjo.
Taking her hand of Nagamasa's back without a hint of a smile- for that would be lying- she locked her eyes with his, trying to calm his burning anger down. "It's not your fault." Her voice was barely above a whisper, like the breeze outside the window. "You didn't destroy your honour." Slowly, her hand reached for his thigh, and rested there.
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Post by hopefull2 on Sept 30, 2008 8:32:02 GMT -5
I posted this not to long ago, in a RP called Gangs of New York.
"New York, they say, is a state of mind; a reality that seems to devour every soul brave enough to dream of a life within the concrete jungle. Look at them, like little ants scrambling along their individual and congruent paths; oblivious to reality and completely consumed with bringing their haul back to the queen, or to their bosses, as it happens. Outsiders think of New York as a bustling city of businessmen (and women), and people just trying to get by; as a city that never sleeps. Well, they were right about the sleeping part.
The sun was setting, lowering down behind to towering buildings, and accumulated smog. True, there was still an hour or so before the sun came to rest behind the horizon, but who could tell. The New York people talked about; the bustling, never ending flow of life that encompassed the city by day was going to bed, in fact the clicking of 5 million locks and dead bolts could be heard by a creative listener. Streetlights that flickered on, filling the empty tunnels between buildings with an eerie peach glow, seemed a signal of sorts; they marked the end of the reign of life. Now it was the time for death.
Slowly beings began to move about the dim streets, people presumably; an old bum and his cart, a scalper with tickets to next week’s game. A group of well dressed couples, obviously lost, almost ran along the streets, the women grouped between the men like a herd of prey cowering before a great predator. And they had every right to be afraid. A grin flashed in the dark, a couple feet above a low wall the surrounded a meagre park. George sat watching the dark side of the city wake, assured in her self defense but still perched cautiously in a pool of shadow. As three dark figures slunk after the group George slid down to the sidewalk, casting a glance in both directions before starting off toward her car. The matte black paint that coated the exterior masked the car, blending it into the shadows and blurring its outline. The perfect effect for escaping the notice of the sharpest anti-theft police department in the country. The roar of a hemi was unmistakable as the engine turned over. The car rumbled to life and illuminated the street with the white blue light poring from the headlights, as well as dusting the pavement beneath it with a blue glow. Her tires squealed momentarily in protest as George pressed the gas to the floor, but soon both woman and car sped of into the night, ready to take advantage once again of the cover of darkness."
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Post by 'HERA on Sept 30, 2008 9:53:56 GMT -5
OK, this one is mine from The Primrose Chase
Lil had been very hungry since she was in the Math class. She couldn't just stand how Mr. Thompson explained about variables, algebras, and boring stuff. No wonder, Lil skipped her breakfast that morning. She was almost late.
Now that her stomach had made funny noises. It seemed she was the only one who could hear her stomach making funny noises. Thank goodness the others, including Mr. Thompson, didn't. So when the bell rang, Lil groaned happily. Aw...freedom, at last. She quickly rushed to the locker to put her math books inside it then rushed to the cafeteria with Shania and Kat, her two friends. Lil quickly lined up.
"Scrambled egg with sausages, please." Lil snapped, before the woman behind the counter could ask.
After she got the scrambled egg and sausages placed on a plate laying on the tray, Lil walked to search for her friends. She looked around, no signs of Kat nor Shania. The girl sighed and suddenly she spotted an empty seat. Around the seats around it were surrounded by mostly freshmen.
But she thought it was OK to sit with the freshmen sometimes. Lil walked towards the seat and took a sit. Finally. She sighed. But then, she noticed a girl next to her eating her sandwich. Darn, I should have asked her permission first! Lil was too hungry that she even forgot to ask the girl permission. Who knows she already reserved this seat for her friend.
"Oh excuse me, is this seat already reserved for someone?" she asked absentmindedly.
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Post by asidella on Sept 30, 2008 18:03:56 GMT -5
This is from a Wild Horse rpg that Is my favorite site <3 The characters name is Deadlock, and he's a pretty twisted fella x^D Hears voices in his head that tell him to kill anyone he loves, like parents and what not. The post is a reply to a mare called Romani. Sorry for the poor spelling, my spell check wouldn't work x^D And I was too lazy to go through and check it myself. That post was from last week.
DEADlock
" Flier? My little one, where are you?" The voice echoed through the small cave, the voice was soft, nervous and clearly upset. It shook at every syllable, as if the horse were crying. " Flier, this is no time to play hide and seek. Come my darling, we must leave." Her voice was filled with panic. A tall, elegantly built chestnut mare stepped out of from behind one of the huge stalagmites, he hide quivering with an unknown fear. Her eyes wide enough to show the whites, making her already light blue eyes stand out all the more in the dark cave. In the distance, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs. And a faint trickling of water.
"Do it... just do it already."
So quiet, the voice was so quiet only the little foal standing in an alcove several feet from the mare could hear it. His legs trembling, his nose inches from a large, sharp rock leaning precariously over the mare. One push, and it was fall on her back.
"Get it over with. She's nothing to you, it will all be over wi.."
The voice was cut off, as the mare moved away from the stone, and nuzzled the little colt. "Flier, haven't you heart me calling? We must go, the tide is coming. Hurry now!" she said and turned and started to trot out of the cave. The colt blinked his large, light green eyes.
"Idiot..."
And the voice was gone again. The foal swallowed hard, shoving back the cries of terror that were about to escape his maw. There was no stopping it. He had to do it.. He had to...
"NO!" The words escaped my lips like a bullhorn. My eyes wide in fear. I scrambled to my feet, my long dark mane falling across my shoulders like a tumbling river. My body shook, large dark drops of swear falling from my neck and forehead. I was breathing in huge, gasping breaths. My eyes staring blankly ahead. " Mother..." I said, my voice harsh and ragged with grief. I could see her slim form in my mind, elegant, graceful, slim. With blood dripping down the side of her head. I screamed a gain, and lurched forward, bringing myself away from these treacherous thoughts of murder. Never again, I could never again let myself seep into that kind of darkness. I sighed, the pain of loss leaving me again. My vision began to clear, and the early morning sun made me blink for a moment, standing in an awkward position while I woke up from the dream, memory, whatever that thing was. I swallowed, and coughed to clear my throat. Shaking my light cream body, I groaned, and straightened my legs. Standing up straight now, I swung my neck around to scratch my shoulders, and itch that didn't really exist and was merely there as a place holder in my mind. I began to wonder what had woken me, usually when that scene played in my head, it continued on to the very end...
But this one had stopped, half way through the story like a radio that has been unplugged. I glanced around, scanning the landscape for anything unusual. The meadow was clear, a large oak tree standing with a bird, singing among it's branches. The slope I had been sleeping on, rocky, and bare. But nothing on it that would wake me. But when I turned to look towards the steep mountain side to my left, that I noticed something unusual. A light gray mare, was making her way with some difficulty down the side of the mountain. "Oh dear..." I thought. This couldn't be good, the mountain was rocky, sharp, and precarious. It was unsafe for any horse much less a horse who might not be aware of the danger of it. I watched for a moment longer as the mare stumbled down the hill. And then. She stopped, and though she was far enough away that I couldn't see her clearly, I could see that she had fallen to her knees. I snorted in worry, and began to walk forwards towards the base of the mountain. And then, with a sharp stab, my heart nearly stopped, and the mare began to fall down the hill. It almost seemed as if she didn't care anymore, for she didn't try to stop herself. I stood, frozen in panic for a moment. And then I surged forward, pushing myself faster than I think I had ever run. What if the mare was dead, or seriously hurt? What could I do? There wasn't another horse within miles, and I was no huge draft that could get her to safety. I reached the bottom of the mountain about the same time that she did, to my immense relief, she seemed to not be seriously harmed, for she got up, and shook herself, the dirt falling from her back in a cloud of gray." Here am I - But where is she?"she said wearily. And I stopped again, I supposed she had not seen me. What did she mean? Was she looking for someone? I cleared my throat loudly, and spoke. My tone cautious and worried."Miss? Are you alright?" I said, still slightly out of breath from my brisk run over to the mountain.
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Post by 'HERA on Oct 6, 2008 1:11:49 GMT -5
Wow, Asidella, you're a real RPer! Actually I'm quite confused how to classify an RP. There are three levels: Beginner, Intermediate, and Advanced. I don't know at least how many posts to achieve to be called as an advanced RP, intermediate, or a beginner. All I know is, advanced RP is more than 5 paragraphs. But when some people (or say, real RPer) say that 5 paragraphs are considered beginner.  |
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Post by morpheus on Oct 7, 2008 16:02:47 GMT -5
It all depends. I put you at your ability to write, not necessarily the length of your posts. I have been at this for about 7 years and in no way am I a beginner to RP. That being said, it depends on the site and my partner as to how long my post is. If my partner is not going to put forth the effort to make it at least 1000 words, hell if I'm going to! that's a long post!
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Post by morpheus on Oct 7, 2008 16:06:22 GMT -5
((This is a post of mine from a late 17th to early 18th century board which was most fun. My character is Ethan who is in a bar with a man named Mads, whom he has just met. They're arguing about whether or not a whore named Nora has any value code. ))
It was disturbing to fly into a selfrighteous rage only to be laughed at. Mads stared at Ethan. Ethan stared at Mads, still clutching his precious paper. His expression did not change. While his anger had been caught off balance and faltered slightly, he still held onto his notions the way the a log can't quite shake a fire. Ethan's mouth was pressed until it became a thin line on his face.
“If you want to fight, I ain’t got no trouble beating another man tonight, and you can write that down if you like,” Mads said. The threat was recieved loud and clear and struck Ethan with a strange feeling. Any argument he'd had before had come from a man on a couch, discussing politics or perhaps his father. This was not to say he had never gotten into a scrap. As a boy, he could romp with the best of them but that was a long time ago and he was fairly certain that if it came to blows, Mads would win. Realizing his inferiority when it came to brute strength, Ethan shook his head only very slightly, indicating he had no wish to take escalate their disagreement to an unnecessary level. Before he could speak again however, the man kept going; preaching about Nora's (Ethan assumed she was the whore) virtues, and the common man's 'rights'.
He was dumb founded. Ethan opened his mouth in order to comment but shut it again. His eyes, an industrious dark blue in the dim light, glittered coldly. To say the speech did not move him would be a lie. In fact, the words, though not flowery or smooth in the least had a certain charm. He clapped. It was soft at first, the kind of clap used inside parlours after a heartfelt poem but it rose. It rose up like a slap of thunder across the sky, rolling and loud, followed quickly by a shrill forced laugh. This was not the laugh of a madman. It was not the laugh of desperation. It was a feral laugh, one that surprised even Ethan.
He leaned toward Mads who by now was comfortably slouched in his chair. Ethan's hair was still neatly parted and combed, his clothes still clean and crisp, his face and hands clean. No, he did not resemble anyone in this bar or on the streets outside it. Though he was not of the wealthy class, his life would fair far better than Mads' would; especially once his father passed on to the Holy Trinity.
"'Honest. Working. Woman.'," Ethan leaned closer until his midsection was pressed into the table's edge. "You're right, sir, it is my business who I insult. I did not come down here to cast the first stone and I certainly did not come down here to present myself as his Majesty, Jesus Christ. What I did come down here for was to gather information. If you please, sir, show me the sign that says an honest working man cannot stop in here and get a drink."
Ethan pointed at Nora as he spoke his next few sentences. "I never suggested she should not frequent this fine establishment. I never suggested she did not earn her keep. Take this how you will, but get your head out of your ass." The feral laugh had left an uncostomary smile on his face. "I stated a fact. She carries disease. She will probably go to hell and the rest of us with her. It is my preference not to defile my body with some other man's trasngressions which this poor woman, who obviously has suffered at some point in her life, transmits. From where I sit, she could be as charming and as sweet as the Virgin herself. But she will not touch me."
Ethan watched Mads closely, steeling himself for a good punch to the nose. "Have I cleared up our misunderstanding, sir? Or would you like me to keep going? I cannot speak for you but I am free to debate moral issues all night."
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Post by 'HERA on Oct 12, 2008 4:03:28 GMT -5
This is an old post from Gods of Greece v2 The messenger of Olympians didn't know how tired he was that day. Zeus had been giving him a lot of tasks to do lately, well, it was his duty right as a messenger of the gods. Hermes never grumbled about his job. In fact it was amazing, he could even travel around the world with the winged cap and sandals gifted from Zeus. Though yes, it was exhausting.
Today he had been to mortal world, he visited Troy, Mycenae, and Sparta to meet the kings and gave the letters from Zeus. Hermes never knew what was inside Zeus' letters, since it wasn't his right to know what was inside it. It was a business between the kings of mortal world and the king of Olympus. After that, Hermes went to Athens to see pottery center. He always loved that place. Luckily he still had a chance to spend time for his pleasure in the middle of his job.
So he could make his way back to Olympus that late afternoon. He didn't head back to his palace but he decided to stay for a minute in meeting hall. It was quiet, nobody was around. Hermes approached a bench. He sat on it and took off his winged cap. Then he laid on it.
"Ooh...boy, what a day..." he stretched his back, it wasn't until he felt someone was coming. The sense was quite familiar, sure he or she must be an Olympian. Hermes sat straight. He looked around, nobody was there. "Who...who's there?" he called out.
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Post by hopefull2 on Oct 13, 2008 21:17:45 GMT -5
I've always had issues with RP level being classified by the length of your post. I've personally seen alot of threads that are miles long, and are filled with nothingness. I personally loath replying to a 8 paragraph post, because there is way too much plot to catch up to , and you end up god-moding alot if the other RPer isn't a fantastic writer. I haven't been at this 7 years, like morphy there, but i've been around for a while, and i agree that RPing should be rated based on writing skill, but it should also be judged on plot-content, the ability to play difficult personalities, and someone's ability to interact with another character. Just my opinion.
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Post by Eros on Oct 30, 2008 3:24:59 GMT -5
It all depends on the site for me. I know that I'm capable of writing five hundred words, but I just don't do it because it's not required. For this site, since 150 is fine with me, I tend to write more because I just love my characters here. However, there's another site that requires simulated battling, and since Roleplaying's just an extra there, the majority there usually write about one line to a whole paragraph, but on some other sites, they can easily pound out a lot. And here is my shortest post ever  And this one took me half an hour to write My character's about... one month pregnant, and her husband's, uh, my boyfriend... and then he quit roleplaying ;_; |
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Post by ♥ Hεsτiα on Oct 30, 2008 21:55:45 GMT -5
As Helga Hufflepuff on The Wizard's Labyrinth
   You’re Gonna Make Me, Make Me Love You;;
Nothing At All, Nothing That I Do;;
Promise I Made, Promise I Made;;
Started To Fade, Started To Fade;;
Helga Hufflepuff was making her way from her simply furnished living quarters, down to the kitchen's in the basement of the school. It was getting on in the day and she had a craving for some really nice food. The food she ate had to be of a higher quality of course, so she had decided to bake herelf a nice cake or pastry. She descended the ever changing stairs that her good friend, Rowena Ravenclaw, had invented. Rowena was another of the four Hogwarts founders and a dear friend to Helga. She was one of the brightest witches of the time and, in Helga's opinion, the brightest witch ever born.
Golden blond curls bobbed up and down, like a bouy out at sea, as Helga elegantly descended the stairs. She was in a plain dress this evening and it made her look something of a phantasm. The paleness of the dress and that of her skin truly would frighten anyone, as no one should be that pale! Except the dead of course. Her bright eyes acted as beacons in the darkening halls of the castle. Several students ran past Helga on the staircases and she politely nodded to each of them. Helga was always the most befirneded of the founders by the students as she was less likely to repremand them, although she believed herself to be strict.
As she descended into the large openess of the Entrance Hall, a small voice could be heard and the bang of a large something on the ground. "Uhh, hello?" Helga continued her flight down the stairs and noticed a petite young girl standing in front of the solid oak doors. She too had golden blond hair. although Helga highly doubted if she could morph the colour as she could. She too had stunningly blue eyes, from what Helga could make out, and an excellent physique for what seemed a sixteen or seventeen year old witch. Helga walked down the final step and hurriedly walked over to greet the newcomer.
"Hello my dear!" Helga said cheerily to the young female. "How are we this evening? My name is Helga Hufflepuff and I am bith a professor and founder here at this prestigious school of the wizarding arts." Helga held out her hand to shake this new girls hand and looked forward to seeing as to why she had come to the school at this late hour.
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Post by ♥ Hεsτiα on Oct 30, 2008 21:57:25 GMT -5
As Cruella de Vil on House of Cards
   Cruella De Vil;;Cruella De Vil;;If she doesn't scare you;;No evil thing will;;
The Ballroom was in it's usual state. All of the fantastically furnished large ballroom was saturated in a thick layer of dust. The marble busts that were dotted across the room were dusty and even specks of mold grew on the edges. The tapestry and other paintings were so dusty, not even their subjects were visible. Yet Cruella de Vil made it her mission to go ahead and inspect the place that was to be her new home. Eventually she had come to terms with the fact that this was her new abode, after a grueling few hours of trying to escape the premises. She had tried scaling the walls, digging under the walls and had even contemplated on jumping over the wall by means of the roof. So instead of dying, she had decided to take it upon herself to find out what was here and make it hers. A bedroom would be nice of course but the ones she had seen were all too freakish, from the circus themed one to the other that resembled an ocean. She entered the Ballroom in search of a bedroom she could call her own, but instead came across this large ballroom.
Cruella was seriously going mad on the inside. It had been hours since she had been near any of her possessions, she sorely missed her cell phone and her butler and all the other things she took for granted, she nearly tore the walls down when she realized that she would never see any of her fur coats again, luckily she was wearing her favorite minx one. The only items that she Had in this wretched place was her minx fur coat, her cigarette holder, with no cigarettes, and the clothes she had been wearing. These included her stiletto's, her long and sleek black dress and a pair of driving gloves. Indeed she was about to lose her mind, she needed material possessions, and fast.
As she looked around the abandoned ballroom, she noticed that no one had been here in a while, she had no idea when the last person had come into this house, or even if she was all alone. It was a frightening thought for Cruella, she needed to be in charge of someone, anyone. She walked into the room and had an idea. If no one ever was in this room, then maybe she could turn it into her own luxury room? But this idea was immediately thrown out of her head when she realized that she would have to clean the layers and layers of dust. A highly unlikely idea.
Cruella walked into the center of the majestic ballroom, to one side of the creaking chandelier and looked around. "Hello?!" Cruella shouted in her hoarse and shrill voice. "Is there anyone around? Anyone at all!?"
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Post by ♥ Hεsτiα on Oct 31, 2008 21:19:48 GMT -5
As Cruella de Vil on House of Cards
Cruella De Vil;;Cruella De Vil;;If she doesn't scare you;;No evil thing will;;
The sun was shining brightly overhead as Cruella de Vil walked through the ground of this wretchedly horrible manor. The sun bounced off her sleek dark colored hair, leaving a shine that would blind anyone, and caused her emerald eyes to sparkle like gems. Indeed, the sun was beginning to annoy Cruella, but nothing was annoying more than this pesky and irksome house. Cruella had unwittingly stumbled into this wretched, yet well designed, house by mistake. She was following what she believed to be dalmatian puppies, the very creatures she was dying to skin and make into her newest item of value. But she ended up in this crazy and unexpected house, it had appeared out of nowhere. Still, Cruella was dealing with the fact she would have to stay here for a bit, but she wouldn't even think of how long her stay would be for.
As the sun intensified a bit more, Cruella spotted a nearby shed. This shed was made of glass and on the inside she could see some plants and a few fly's buzzing about the place. She realized that this shed was in fact a greenhouse, and would be warmer than being outside. But Cruella didn't comprehend this as she decided to enter the greenhouse in search of rest and cool air. But when she did enter she was met by something she hadn't expected.
The exterior had been a false image. Instead of their being only a few plants and trees, the entire inside of the greenhouse was covered in thick vines and tree trunks, almost like a forest on it's own. Cruella turned to escape the place, but she couldn't find the door, she was trapped. Hurriedly, she ran toward the area where the door had previously been and frantically searched for a handle of some description. After a few minuted of effortless scratching and searching she gave up and attempted to shout for assistance, not in a panicked tone but in her trademark shrill voice.
"Hello!? Is anyone here?! I demand that someone assist me now!" Cruella yelled into what obviously was a thick undergrowth with no human inhabitants, yet she yelled for more aid anyway. "I mean it your imbeciles! Help me out of here or so help me I'll skin you all alive!" Shouting to thin air was pointless, she knew that, but there may be someone out their after all this house did have some wild surprises ...
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Post by Eros on Nov 1, 2008 0:17:50 GMT -5
Well, this isn't mine, but it's my ex-husband's. His posts are just so sweet that I want to post them up ^^
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Post by 'HERA on Nov 1, 2008 23:43:54 GMT -5
I love that icon technique. I use it in other sites, but not here. Because sometimes I'm lazy to upload those icons and text in every RP reply ;D
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