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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 21 2008, 07:00 PM (126 Views) | |
| Harpalyce | Dec 21 2008, 07:00 PM Post #1 |
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Name: Harpalyce/Sharon (Harp, Harper, Harpa, etc. also good) Roleplaying Experience: Now I get to feel old, damn you. About 8-9 years. Preferred Roleplay Style: Fantasy and sci-fi. Generally if I have a character for it, I'll go for it, or I can finagle something up on the fly if needed. Roleplaying Sample: N.B. This is from an RP story explaining my WoW character Amlaki, a female orc death knight. http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/forum/read.php?2,131153 is the full story. Additionally, http://teatime-warlock.livejournal.com/ is an IC journal for other WoW roleplay characters for more examples. -- Occasionally, out of playfulness or boredom (but rarely out of higher motives), the spirits will focus their collective eye on something or someone - or at least, they used to, when they were respected enough to indulge in such luxuries and were certain they would be heard. It was with this auspicious glare that they found the orc child, brown skinned, with dark brown hair, playing with her muddied brown toys in her mud-brick brown house in the brown, brown, brown landscape of Nagrand in dry season that she seemed to be so very much to be part of. The fireplace was easy enough for one of the fire spirits to squirm into. It watched and waited her wobblingly thrust and parry and chop at invisible enemies before finally the flame curled itself into a kindly smile and blinked a few times. "Amlaki," it whispered, as if revealing some great secret, "Little Gooseberry, look here, Amlaki..." And the child turned, and blinked her pretty eyelashes as her pouty mouth gaped. Then she did what she thought any good orc would do: with a battle-scream, she thrust her wooden play-sword into the fire to stab the spirit before running as fast as her bare feet would take her. In retrospect, the spirits should have considered this indicative of the whole, but they were glutted with respect and at the time did not conceive of the possibility that they would not be listened to. -- And the little girl grew too quickly, the same way the Horde did. Even the fire, squinting with a worried spirit's eyes, could not pick her out of the teeming crowd as she leaned on her axe. She yelled out every response as Gul'dan called for it, roaring with the crowd. The fire held its tongue then, but it was two days later when the flame spotted her again from its roost in a draenei's hearth. "Little Gooseberry -" it cooed, trying to get her attention, voice trembling. She stared and then in one smooth motion, her axe split the stone, and she grit her teeth. "Amlaki!" There was a dull roar of a shout as the three others she had been sent out with finished rounding up the inhabitants of the camp. They were all young and strong, flexing their muscles and reveling in the new power. Like a serpent with just-shed skin, they were admiring how the fel-taint green had spread and covered their homely brownness. But Amlaki was the only one of them to actually bear the mark of the Shadow Council, and so she was the leader of this small warband. Obediently, the rest of the novice warriors encircled the miserable draenei. "We've cleared out all of the buildings, but you said you wanted first blood - one tried to fight back, but he's still here," one said languidly, stabbing at the old draenei man with his own pitchfork. He cried out, and Amlaki smiled. "Got the torches?" Another nodded. "Good, give one here." She made a great show of taking the lit firebrand from the other orc, staring down the few draenei they had collected. One still stared back in lip-trembling defiance. "Little Gooseberry, please," whispered the fire as she brought it over to one of the huts. "You know not what you do..." "Shut up!" she snarled; the orcs behind her jumped in confusion. For a moment, her eyebrows knitted in concentration before she finally shoved the spirit out of her mind. Perhaps overdramatically, she held the firebrand out towards the hut, staring at the prisoners. There - what she had been waiting for, the shadow of an expression that crossed over the draenei woman's face - mothers were always the easiest... Even her leather armor managed to clatter together as she stomped back over to the group. "I thought you said you'd gotten everyone!" "But -" "Feckin' peons with axes, I can never trust you. Hold this, I am going to do things properly. You, Skulljaw - burn the rest, watch for runners. Keep them alive until I come out." The orcs grunted in affirmative response, and she watched them carefully before leaving her axe by the door - or rather in the door. It hung there quivering where it had bitten into the wood and stone as she made her footsteps quieter. The hut was humble, little instruments of domestic happiness scattered here and there. The fire had been snuffed out (it hadn't talked to her, but she knew it would, so she killed it before it had the chance), so the darkness had seeped into every corner. Dust on the floor made it easy enough to track, now where would be the most logical... Gingerly, her fingers found the wooden chest that had held linens for two generations going on three, and she pried it open. Two scared glowing eyes peered up at her, and the little draenei girl tensed as if fighting the urge to run. But Amlaki forced a smile onto her face. "Hey, there, it's all right." She knew the draenei didn't speak a word of orcish, but she cooed out the words with syrupy sweetness. "What's that you have there?" Although the girl whimpered, she still reached out to pet the top of the doll's head. "Your doll before going to see about Mommy and Daddy, yeah? Good call. Smart girl." Her other hand went to join the first, petting at the draenei's hair. "It will be over soon, I promise." There was a short cry, but she knew the movement so well from so many chickens that it was easy and came naturally. It was too much trouble to carry the body, so she simply plucked the doll out of the child's hands, striding out with victorious confidence, ripping her axe from the house and tossing the toy at the draenei woman's feet. She gave a choked cry, and Amlaki smiled. "Finish torching these huts and kill these swine. Tie up the prettiest and have your way with her if you want; we're done here." |
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| Silvermourn | Dec 21 2008, 09:31 PM Post #2 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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(Approved) Welcome to the site, and glad to have you with us. Feel free to post an intro and in the roleplays. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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