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Schem's Application; Of... Doom!
Topic Started: Apr 5 2009, 10:08 AM (130 Views)
Schemilix
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Name: I'm Schemilix, Schem for short, some of you now have official permission to call me 'Miri'.

Roleplaying Experience: Since I was about 12 online, since I was about... Well, since I could play with other children in real life. Doing it 'properly' in real life, since I was about ten. I'll just say about three years, heh.

One might argue that this is a complete lie and I'm actually six but, shush. I'm sixteen in July.

Preferred Roleplay Style: fantasy/science-fantasy. Steampunk also.

Roleplaying Sample: Weaving between waterfalls of dusk light, a man who looked more ghost than human limped under eaves bearing armfuls of russet ivy. As he walked he favoured his left leg heavily, and when he took his overcompensating right step, he heard a small crunch. Glancing down, a shard of glass greeted him, peeking from under his heavy boot.
He reached down, grasping the shard and lifting it to eye level. As he observed it, he could see the gleaming surface staring back at him with his own green eye.
A mirror. For a brief moment as he lowered it again, something hazy seemed to peer over his shoulder: a passing reflection. When he turned, there was nothing there but a conveniently placed corner.
“Hide an’ seek, Schaduw, hide an’ seek.” the pale man growled. The mirror’s eye turned yellow and winked out, leaving behind a quiet crack as the glass splintered on the stone floor below.

Serenius Fawkes II awoke with a start and an ache in his back. The soft chimes of the golden bells tied around the neck of the ship’s figurehead sounded soothingly, nearly sending him back into a doze.
“…Hey…Why did nobody wake me?” he sighed to himself and straightened. As he had been falling asleep, the sun had been glaring at him from the highest point of the sky. Now it waved him goodbye as it was swallowed by the sea's endless mouth, leaving him alone with the lapping of the waves on the ship's hull, and a small piece of seaweed.
The deck was deserted; everybody was below deck, most likely having fun without him. Petulantly, he cleaned his glasses with his sleeve and slipped them back on.
“Navigators get no respect these days.” he murmured, stretching the kink out of his spine and slouching over to the ladder. At least sleep wasn't going to desert him.
“Ah, Fawkes!” a jovial voice hailed him from somewhere to his left.
“Captain Rage.” Fawkes turned, stifling a frown and inwardly waving goodbye to his nap; it seemed like it had deserted him after all. Rage jostled him, asked him how he was: where had he been he was missing all the fun! Sighing, rubbing his temples, Fawkes answered, evaded, edged towards the sleeping quarters...
“We're not far from the port, my good man. Verinn awaits! Go get some rest already.” the Captain shouted, clapping his navigator on the back. Fawkes grimaced discretely.
“Ah, thank you sir.” he rasped, then scurried away before the old sea dog could injure his abused spine further.
High above, balanced in the crow's nest, a pale young boy spied land on the darkening horizon. Slowly, his angel's lips curved into a cruel smile.

“It is with great honour that we are to announce the arrival of the the ambassador of the Republic of Hinter-Hohlstein: Austas Davion.” a strong male voice called from the sweeping steps that footed the palace – the heart of Verinn. An enormous pair of doors stood to unyielding attention behind the speaker: a tall man with loosely tied blonde hair, and a straight backed, regal stance. At his thighs, his clenched fists shook where no man could see their tremors.
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'We must break from this cycle! We must free ourselves from this captured legacy! And for that, we must embrace our end! In death lies freedom! - Evadrael
Ber Tataimel!
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