News: 
Paragraphite

Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Topics - Beau

Pages: [1]
1
Freestyle Roleplay / The Boxer
« on: February 06, 2022, 01:03:35 am »
Midnight.  Sane people with money in their pockets didn't get on the New York subway at such an hour, but Beau could only lay claim to one of the two criteria.  It helped that his head was filled with classic rock tunes thanks to the headphones in his ears, and that his feet knew the path from the ticket gate to the track.  He kept his hands in pockets rather than touch the grime of the stair rail as he descended to the platform, eyes straight ahead.  Twenty-four stairs.  And an odd silent count of each, as his worn sneakers kept time with the music.

I am just a poor boy but my story's seldom told...I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises....

Beau didn't need to look around to know the number or type of people who joined him on the platform.  The three minutes passed in solitude as he waited for the D train.  There were two homeless men in the corner along with the persistent smell of urine - Beau considered them the regulars and they knew not to ask him for money.  To his left was couple dressed for dinner or a show, completing their evening. Eye contact could keep crime at bay, or invite conversation and honestly he wasn't much interested in either.  A fight might actually be amusing, at least, if it were evenly matched.   His six-foot-four frame, and wide shoulders, tended to narrow the potential brawl pool.  The slightly crooked nose due to two prior breaks tended to signal experience to the faint hearted.  God forbid that anyone ask 'how that happened'.

Desire had him turning his head and gazing longingly down the dark tracks.  The public address system said the train was approaching, but the white light seemed a bit far in the distance.  Just like home was far, and the apartment he was heading to devoid of warmth.

He flexed his fingers, buried deep in the pocket of his leather jacket.  The movement caused his palm to brush the tear in the fabric and the forgotten need to do some mending.   Not that he kept anything important he could lose in those pockets beyond loose change and his music playing phone.  No drivers license.  No cigarettes.

The push of air ruffled his dark hair as the train made its appearance.  Metal and glass.  Random graffiti announcing in yellow that someone named Zepher had recently painted here.   As the doors slid open, Beau waited for the well dressed couple to proceed him, only because he preferred to sit alone.  Opens were many, and he picked a bench that faced away from the direction the train would drive.  He took a seat as the train started and stretched out his legs, wishful thinking the action would deter anyone from encroaching on his space?

La la lie la lie.

The song he was listening to ended in taped applause.  The old concert was a favorite, taped in Central Park not far from where his train was about to go.   However, Beau wasn't eager to hear the tune a second time.  The familiar guitar strum hinted the song was looping.  He pulled his phone out and studied the screen.

All lies and gest, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest...

Of course it was only a melody, but the small shiver heightened his senses.  Its manifestation had Beau lifting his gaze away from his phone screen and to the seat across the aisle.  Four hundred stations to chose from.  Four trains each....and you pick this one.

2
Welcome Noobel Blewd! / Not Exactly New
« on: January 23, 2017, 10:54:02 pm »
But hey - I'm alive and wanted to say hello.

Been thinking of you all lately.  Happy New Year.

3
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Walking on the Sun (closed)
« on: April 19, 2015, 06:41:15 am »

“You haven’t touched your food.”

Neil looked up at the woman across the table.  She wasn’t his mother, but she’d been acting a bit like it since they arrived in Vale.  In truth the trip to the ski resort was her idea, the art agent worried the artist was working too hard.  Now Neil was pushing the lovely grilled salmon around on the china plate.  Surely something was wrong.

“I’m not really hungry.” Neil purred.  The seductive smile on the handsome face might cause the bottle blond to think he had something other than food on his mind, but he wasn’t as attracted to Dalia as he let her think.  He ‘managed’ her, almost as much as she managed him.  To that end he reached a hand across the table and captured hers in his.  He gave the tanned flesh a squeeze.  “Maybe it’s the time change.”

They’d flown in from San Francisco earlier today.  Snow had delayed the flight, but the sun set hours ago.  Normal people didn’t eat dinner at 9 pm.

Dalia blushed and tucked a wave of hair behind her ear.  Her hand turned up, fingers laced with his.  “I’ve known you about a year now and this is the first restaurant you’ve taken me to. You never seem to eat.”

Neil tipped his head to the side.  He was slender, but not overly so.  His tall frame complimented his regal build.  His Italian coloring meant olive colored skin that glowed with health.  “Do you really want to have a conversation about eating disorders?”

She pulled her hand away.  One sensitive topic down without having to fire a shot.  Neil carefully banked the smile.  He took a bite of the fish and forced himself to swallow.  Almost immediately he wanted to gag but he took a sip of water instead.  There, happy? He didn’t plan to be cruel but he wasn’t about to argue with the size zero waif across the table. 

He turned his head toward the window.  The lights from the ski-lift illuminated the snow to a burnished gold.  The view was pretty and the air clear.  He took a breath and let it out.  “I’m sorry, Cara.  You must have been right that I needed a break.  I’m sure my mood will be better in the morning.”

Without thinking more about it he pushed back his chair.  “I’m going to take a walk. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

The waiter instantly appeared at his side.  Neil didn’t think anything of the hurried, “Will there be anything else Mr. Desmond?”  The artist had commanded attention most of his life.  He tried to avoid it, but there was something about the way he walked and talked that drew people to him naturally.  He had the aura of a leader.  Add a touch of fame and the limelight became harsher and harsher each year.

How about a little peace and quiet?

He didn’t voice his thoughts.  A few bills were placed on the table.  Neil took his wine glass and moved off towards the lounge. The fire there might have drawn his attention any other day. Neil liked warm things.  Typically he favored long sleeves and sweaters, almost unnaturally cold, but today he felt a need to move out into the snow, like a storm was coming and he should breathe the air before being trapped inside.  He wore boots for the occasion.  He had his wool coat and scarf rescued from the restaurant coat check.  All he needed was the door.

The hotel catered to skiers, but it wanted you to stay inside.  The lobby was plush, and felt like a cross between a Vegas palace and a rat’s maze.  Leave it to Dalia to choose glitz over practicality.  Neil shook his head and took a final sip of his wine before finding a counter to place it on.  He spied the exit, finally, and turned, only to run into someone in the process.

Of course he hadn’t exactly knocked her over but he felt a need to apologize, arms reaching out to steady the poor woman.  “Do forgive my clumsiness."

4
Epicenter / Friend or Foe (closed)
« on: March 04, 2015, 03:28:12 pm »
Reed Beaumont made his way to the fifth floor via the fire escape.  Dressed in black, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his blond hair he ascended the old metal stairs soundlessly.  It was art, more than science - where to step, and where to skip a rung of the white painted metal.  Practice made perfect. The sun would be up soon, but for now Reed moved like a shadow up the criss-crossed landings towards his apartment in the Royal Astaire.  His window in 5C was his own private entrance and the glass gave soundlessly under his gloved fingers as he slipped inside.  Booted feet hit the ground, in a catlike maneuver that landed him gracefully on all fours on the hardwood floor, before he stood straight.  The old building didn’t creek in response to his arrival.  Within seconds he shed the tools of his trade: backpack, electronics, rope and skid proof shoes.  All items were inconspicuously stored in the closet. The velvet jewel case went into the safe.  He smiled as he spun the dial, admiring the diamonds one final time before locking them away.

Can never be too careful.  No telling who might have sticky fingers.

Like a normal person, Reed tossed the sweatshirt on the back of the dinette chair.  His apartment was small, one bedroom with an eat in kitchen.  It suited his needs, located in the heart of Cook Town and close to his regular place of work, Marcum Electronics.  Glancing at the clock he wouldn’t have time for a nap before getting ready for the day.

Pity.  He yawned and scratched his head, sleepily.  In sweatpants and a t-shirt he looked rumpled and in need of a shower.  Reed was considering making some coffee when there was a knock at the door.
He hadn’t been moving around, but he stood still, startled by the sound.  Visitors didn’t frequent the fifth floor of the apartment building at six a.m.  It could be a mistake of course.  Apartment 5C was close to the elevator.  A few lost people had asked him for directions before.

The knock sounded again.  “Who is it?”  Reed called.

“Police.”

Unexpected.  Reed didn’t panic.  He was confident this was coincidence.  He’d executed his latest heist without being seen.  Ego didn’t cloud his vision, the crime completely untraceable. With a casual shrug, Reed moved to the door.  On the way he picked up his pair of wireframe glasses.  He didn’t need them to see, but they helped him slip into his daytime persona of nerdy computer geek.

The chain remained on the door as Reed opened it slightly.  Sure enough the blue uniform of Cook Town’s finest greeted him on the other side.  Reed blinked owlishly.  “Can I help you?”

A badge was flashed.  “Sorry to disturb you at this hour.  I’m here about Mr. Henry Olsen in apartment 5A.”

Reed didn’t respond immediately.  He remained behind the chain, waiting to learn more.  No point in volunteering that he didn’t know his neighbor well.   The policeman didn’t seem to mind the silence.  He went on to ask, “When did you last see your neighbor?”

Two doors down technically wasn’t a neighbor.  Olsen was ten years his senior.  Divorced.  They didn’t travel in the same social circle.  “Dunno.  Few days maybe.  I think I passed him in the elevator, but I can’t say for sure.”  He figured it was expected, so he did his best to appear curious, “You looking for him?”

“No,” the police officer said. 

The elevator behind him opened and a pair of men wheeling a gurney got off.  The metal wheels squeaked as they crawled across the floor.  Reed looked beyond the policeman to see the two heading down the hall to the open door of 5A.  He didn’t have time to ask if his fellow resident was hurt.  The policeman informed him.  “He’s been murdered.”


5
OOC Discussion / Random Royals {closed} {info thread}
« on: February 08, 2015, 03:44:49 am »
"Ancient History"
•Helenus Noblesse uses moon magic to create the armor magic of the Noblesse line.
•Eiji Geminus and Matthew Trill meet and become best friends. Through Eiji, Matthew meets Mael and Reinhart.

Solast War
•Captain Taranis is poisoned. Nathanael Pyrrus is made Captain, an act that changes the course of the war to New Carthage's favor.
•Destiny is born to Alexander Noblesse (?)
•Cane is born in Warston and abandoned in the church there
•Desiree is born to Alexander Noblesse
•Cane and Desiree meet at age 8/7
•Alexander Noblesse dies at the battle of Brenya as Nathanael's reinforcements arrive.

After Alexander's Death; Purge
•Desiree's mother gives Millicent Alexander's sword. Remarries.
* Rivak is blinded as punishment for being an aeromancer
•Iulius Gnaeus joins the guard.
•Cane and Ariel meet. The Pyrrus estate is destroyed
•Hans Geminus is tortured and killed for protecting carnomancers.

Before Desiree Joins Guard; Purge(?)
•Matthew joins the guard.
•Cane meets William and Rowan
•Cane is imprisoned by Matthew for 3 months
•Camiel Pyrrus dies in Warston; Warston burns, most of its inhabitants die.
•King Charles dies, and Phillip takes to the throne (chapt 5 reference)
•Desiree makes a deal with Millicent, retrieves Alexander's sword.

Pre-Royal Errand (Desiree's Career)
•Philips younger brother William leaves New Carthage
•Matthew continues to hunt the occasional aeromancer including using Desiree to kill two young women
* Bennet dies, and Rowan/Cane "create" Evan

Royal Errand
•A scroll is stolen, and a ring is found


(I knew there was a Charles - ha!)

6
Fantasy Roleplay / Royal Prelude
« on: February 08, 2015, 01:33:14 am »
(Approximately one year before the first Royal adventure)

Cane was a thief.  He wasn’t proud of the label, but he’d learned the skill to survive and accepted the consequences that came with light fingers and little sound.  Tonight, as evening closed on the capital city, Cane sat on the sloped roof of the King’s castle, knees bent and arms crossed.  His brown and green clothing blended with his surroundings.  He knew that people rarely looked up so he felt no fear of discovery even though such would likely mean prison or death.  He was no stranger to flaunting authority – truth was he sort of liked the thrill. 

The height of the domed roof didn’t bother him either.  Cane inched closer to the edge, booted feet against the tile to hold his balance.  Not for the first time he wondered at the sleepy town below – New Carthage it was called.   There wasn’t an old Carthage, and there wasn’t much new about this place.  The tavern and cottages smelled of smoked peat, and the roads were worn with years of traders coming from the southern kingdom of Solast.  Even now he could see a caravan of horses and wagons making their way to the center of town to prepare for the next day’s market.  People would arrive at dawn to make their purchases, but by then Cane would be long gone.

He scouted the route below, and calculated the simple swing and leap required to access the balcony.  The wizard Perceval lived in this tower and Cane had occasion to visit in the past.  He knew the path and the layout of the rooms below.  But his objective wasn’t social.  He’d been told to fetch something, and already he was late on the return.  Trouble likely awaited him at the hands of his employer.

“Not that it would be the first time,” Cane mumbled as he executed the descent with an instinctive grace.  He wasn’t the tallest of men, and his body had the wiry agility of an acrobat. For all those tight spots you get in, he thought to himself with a smirk as his feet softly touched stone. 

He crouched and listened, hoping his presence wasn’t detected by those behind the window.  The room was dark which could mean the occupant was asleep.  The hour was early, but Perceval was old.  Cane had observed enough of the man’s habits to know that when the sun went down, Perceval often went down with it.

A black bird flew close and took a perch on the balcony rail.  Cane waved his hand to shoo the bird away, but the beast tipped its head to the side and admired him curiously.  Normally Cane liked animals but this particular bird had beady eyes and a perceptive gaze.  Cane had the feeling he couldn’t smile and convince the bird to do his bidding like he did most people.  And, for some odd reason that worried him.

As with most things he couldn’t control, Cane ignored the bird and went on about his business.  A few seconds later and Cane pressed his back to the wall.  He side-stepped towards the glass and with a flick of his hand, let himself inside.

7
Hype / Happy B-Day Para
« on: September 13, 2014, 07:27:44 pm »
If memory serves, Sept 13, 2013 marks our founding date.

And B-day's mean cake.

Happy Birthday Paragraphite!  And to all our devoted members - party on.

 :cup: :tart:

8
Hype / Random Funny Videos
« on: September 09, 2014, 02:24:32 am »

9
Fantasy Roleplay / First
« on: September 06, 2014, 03:15:12 am »
He woke face down in the dirt.  His head screamed as he rolled onto his side and pulled his knees towards his chest.  Everything hurt, even the dimming sunlight as he opened his eyes to get his bearings.  Wet, muddy and disoriented, he sat up.  The motion caused him to moan.

Maybe hearing his own voice was a good thing.  He shook his head, but that was a mistake. Instead of clearing his mind it served only to remind him that his brain wasn’t working properly.  His hands went to his neck and felt for something that should have been there – another piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing.

“Where am I?” 

The sky was overcast and the color pink with the last remains of the day.  The puddles on the ground seemed to indicate it had rained earlier.  There was a certain smell in the air of damp earth and home fires.  This was a road, and he could see a town up ahead, but for now he was alone on the dirt track except for the horse.   The animal didn’t shy away, but rather looked at him with baleful brown eyes as it stood in the knee high grass.  The contents of the saddle pack were strewn about, leaving the man to conclude that he’d not fallen from the horse, but rather been mugged.

He gave a whistle and held out his hand.  The horse didn’t approach.  The man blinked and wondered, What is the horse's name?  The empty response left him to consider,  What’s mine?

The reality that neither question had an answer should have sent him into a panic, but it didn’t.  More cautious than confused, he started to pick up the possessions.  A shirt.  A metal flask and a couple apples.   A knife.  He folded the shirt put the collected items into the leather satchel.   A few golden coins remained in the pack – apparently the aim hadn’t been all about money.

But, something is missing…  Again his hands went to his throat.  His clothing wasn’t ripped, but he sensed that he’d been wearing something else.  Carried something else.   He made a slow circuit around the horse.  He found some rope (not long, but enough to be serviceable), a cup and crushed hat.  He picked them up and tried to punch the straw back into place but it was no good.  He left the remains of the hat on the ground, tossing it aside with a hint of disgust rather than sentiment.  He hadn’t liked the hat and thought aloud, “So much for that disguise.  They knew you were coming.”

He blinked over the thought.  Concentrated.  “Garret.”  A nod and a sigh of relief.  Yes, that was familiar – although whether it was first or last name he couldn’t be sure.  Two syllables was the only hint on the mystery around him.

Garret brushed his muddy hands on his slacks.  He was wearing black, all black, shirt, pants and boots.  His skin was fair, or so he thought beneath the mud.  He found a towel which he suspected would serve to wipe the worst of the dirt from his face and hands.  He studied his fingers and noted the tan line that hinted at a ring.  He rubbed the exposed area, finding that loss the most disturbing.

“What do you think…horse?” he said looking at the animal.  Horse didn’t reply or object when Garret stowed the last of his meager belonging back into the saddle bags.  Garret put his foot in the stirrup and tried to mount, only to feel dizzy over the lift.  He stumbled backwards and wound up sitting in another puddle before he could regain his balance.

He didn’t curse.  Instead, he sat in the puddle for a moment or two and looked up at the sky.  He closed his eyes and found solace in a brief prayer.  A rumble of thunder could have been a response, or the distinct reminder that if he waited much longer he’d be wetter. 

Garret decided there was no shame in walking.  With a hefty sigh, he got to his feet and gathered the reins.  The wind picked up as he walked on towards town, leading the horse.  He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to get there….soon.


10
OOC Discussion / Your First (recruiting call)
« on: August 24, 2014, 04:54:23 am »
{This has morphed a bit -- see last post of mine for clarity}


We all have them - that first real character that took life in an RP.  They never die, they simply get recycled = pieces and parts into other characters.  And yet, that first character that you created tends to hold a special place in your heart.

So, what if we had them meet?  My original thought was something simple, but not just for conversation.  How about a bank robbery.  Wrong place, wrong time.  Hostage situation where danger forces fast friends and true colors.

I'm thinking big city - likely New York or London.  And it might need to be the 1970s or 1980s if Krystal brings her character since I'm sensing a 1940s birthdate based on backstory.

If you're interested, tell me a bit about your character so that I can ensure the venue and timeframe is viable.

Example:

Name - Garret (I'll have to find the old RP and read it to find last name)

Basic Info - Book store worker.  He was used as a pawn by an Egyptian God to trap someone else, so his mental state was altered.  He now has telepathic powers and prophetic dreams as a result.

Time frame or location restrictions - None.  There isn't anything that shaped Garret's character that needs to be in a certain decade or place.  He could be anywhere.

Song that reminds you of the character or original story - Lifehouse Hanging By a Moment

Thoughts on plot - I've already listed them above.  Will add more as I see what you have.

11
Fantasy Roleplay / Timber [closed]
« on: May 18, 2014, 10:44:17 pm »
He was going to die here.  No one would question how Beckett Warrington ‘knew’ that, but he didn’t share the prediction, keeping the quiet secret to himself as he stared at the stone walls of his prison.  The quartz and limestone mixture was pretty in the morning sunlight.  The rosy dawn cast rainbows in the air and Beckett could reach out a hand and toy with the horseshoe shaped colors if he wished, letting the green and gold weave through his long fingers.  He wasn’t shackled.  In fact, the bed he rested in was quite lovely with its elaborate draperies and soft sheets.

All the better for pleasant dreams.

Of course the one he’d awaken from wasn’t pleasant.  The palpitating heart beat faded and the sweat dried on his pale skin as he watched the color symphony.  What he wanted was some air, so he pushed aside the heavy quilt and stood barefoot on the cold stone floor.  He scratched his scalp and ruffled his ashy blond hair, sending into typical disorder, short enough to not fall in his eyes, but a touch too long to be merchant tidy. 

Not that he’d ever be mistaken for a business man, his roguish smile and desire to dance for no reason would give him away if he tried to pose as the stoic vendor in the market place.  And his voice – well the gravely sound wouldn’t mix if he had to yell ‘dates for sale’ more than a dozen times. Not from around here, they’d say.  And someone would notice the ruby red earring. Ask questions. Then before he knew it…

You’d be right back here.

And yet he knew exactly what he was doing as he gathered the gauzy scarf from the wooden chest in the corner, along with the neutral colored clothing and boots.  The secret stash was on the bottom of the chest, wrapped in a blanket which he returned to the stack of folded, more opulent clothing. 

“An hour,” he quietly promised himself.  Then he might be able to breathe again.  Do what needed to be done with the rest of his day.

Beckett draped the scarf over his head and wrapped the ends around his neck.  A hooded cloak with provide additional concealment and the commoner clothing was softer and more comfortable than the royal white.  For a moment he could sigh with contentment as the worn weave brushed his skin and took some of the burden from his shoulders with an air of make-believe.  However, his eyes caught on hanging dress-robes which awaited his return as he opened the window and they fluttered in the breeze.  The festival was this evening and the queen was quite insistent that he’d accompany her into the city for the New Year.

“An hour,” he repeated as he crawled onto the window ledge.  His agile frame knew how to twist and balance on the narrow row of stone.  He’d done this before, although the occasions were becoming less frequent.  Not because the desire was less, but because his fear of discovery was greater.

Blue eyes glanced down.  The fall would kill him.  The castle was nestled in the clouds but the mist would not break his fall.  The world was far, far below.  He could remember what it looked like, even though it had been two years since he’d been home.

One step and you could end it.

The thought wasn’t the first.  He’d known despair, although these days it was less.  Suicide seemed the cowardly way out after all he’d been through.  For a moment his foot hovered in midair.   He lifted one arm leaving only two points of contact with the stone wall.  It was faith and not fear that pushed the second foot off the ledge.

12
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Treacherous
« on: February 23, 2014, 08:09:37 pm »
“You killed your own sister?”

Kyle Asherton shrugged under the accusation. It had been a mistake, but one it seemed he’d be doomed to pay for.  His expression was bland as he glanced at his fellow prisoner, also encased in ice to his waist. 

“You killed your mother,” not news since they’d had this conversation before.  Over and over it seemed.  This time, Ash threw in an additional challenge, “Wanna make something of it?”

A laugh came from the faux opponent.  It wasn’t like they could fight.  Hands and arms moved.  Lips flapped, but without legs their reach was limited to spiteful words.  “Sure, kid, anything you say.”

Ash didn’t think himself a kid.  He’d been thirty five when he died.  Time here seemed endless so he had no idea how long the world of living revolved above.  For above it must surely be since his Catholic family and John Lennon assured him hell was ‘below’. And this was hell.  He was sure of that.  Even if ice replaced the fire and brimstone of the bible, he couldn’t move and half his body felt like it was missing, the ultimate suffering for a man who spent hours each day running and tuning his body to peak physical fitness.  Tall, dark and handsome.  Now he couldn’t see his feet. 

Funny how pride works in this place.

Cries of torment.  Vibrant memories of past signs.  The world was a cold Technicolor that wore on the soul.  That was the point of course.  Lucifer had years to perfect things, and Ash couldn’t think of anything worse.

Okay.  Maybe one thing.  You could have different neighbor. And then hell would truly be complete. 

Ash’s thoughts of increased torment were shattered by the sound of a booming voice.  His cells vibrated.  His ears popped.  His mind struggled to make the gruntled sounds intelligible.

“Be careful what you wish for Kyle David Asherton.  For Hell hath no fury….”

He didn’t want to ask who spoke.  His vision blurred and his body warmed.  He considered a snarky remark but bit his tongue.

The chuckle that reverberated in his head warned that his tempered words were in vain.  “You are nothing if not amusing.”

Ash blinked.  Sensations defied imagination.   For the first time in, he didn’t know how long, Ash could see his feet.


13
OOC Discussion / Finish Plotting
« on: December 31, 2013, 06:15:28 pm »
We need inspiration and music....

--- making my thinking visible from my first song pick (Imagine Dragons, It's TIme), first off I really like the clapping in that song.  Good beat.  The second verse about heaven and hell seems to work with the potential of fighting and journey.  The title really works.

I also saw this interpretation on a website and thought it fit with the character: "It's about growing up and following your heart. Having to walk your own path and letting the people you love follow theirs without holding them back or letting them hold you back. Forgetting about school if it doesn't make sense. Forgetting about a crappy job. In the process of reaching for them we make the hero's journey, going out into the world, telling ourselves we haven't changed despite enormous growth. As time goes on though the relationships begin to break down slowly, each person has grown beyond the place they started"

I'd love for this RP to explore how time changes people, and how they remain the same.

I'm loving the contrast so far - light/dark.  Youth/experience. The trapped, the exiled, the left behind.
***

On another topic I sent Q a couple of ideas on where to start.  Pach's last thought about the hospital might be a good one.  You could see Krystal and wander out.  Pach could have been mentoring you/keeping an eye on you.  Gives a couple links in any case.

I probably will post again tonight because basically I woke up and wrote it...please, please don't feel rushed.

14
Fantasy Roleplay / Finish (closed)
« on: December 30, 2013, 09:31:33 pm »

Thane stood on the edge of the hill overlooking the stone ring.  Once it had been tall marble pillars stretching to the cloudless sky, but now it was a ruin, crumbling and charred.  That didn’t mean it didn’t still work as a transport and gate between the Fairy and Mortal world, it just didn’t open that often.

A woman stood beside Thane, his mother in a manner of speaking, although they were ageless.  Fairy were all of one family; no last names in the sense of Man.  Loyalty to the whole rather than part.  Alana had her back to the stones, and was instead looking at the castle on the adjacent hill and the blinking lights of the dwellings that surrounded it.   The cool breeze ruffled the flowing yellow gown she wore and lifted her fair hair from her face.  Eternal spring and stardust.

“Don’t go, Thane.  Every time you journey through you return more sad and restless.”  She sighed and glanced over her shoulder.   The contrast between them was stark.  Where her features were soft and dreamy, Thane had a pointed nose and prominent cheek bones.  His hair was dark and wavy, but cut short so the air couldn’t play with it.  His eyes were dusky gray with thick black lashes.  He wore fur, a long coat that covered his lean body.  Cold and distant – she couldn’t help thinking that was what he had become as time passed here and there.  “We need you here, with what is coming.  The storm clouds are on the horizon.  I fear that if you go –“

“If I don’t then there is no hope.” Thane said as he continued to stare at the stones.  Searching. He toyed with a copper coin in his pocket.  It had been nearly a hundred years since he’d last crossed over.    Each day longer than the last.  “You have to trust me mother.”

Her shoulder’s stiffened, hearing the pride and determination in his voice.  She wanted to sigh with the futility of it all, but instead returned her gaze to the brilliant lights.  The peace in the valley would soon be broken.  She remembered how things had been.  “Will you be back?”

It was something she’d never asked before and the irony of it broke Thane’s concentration on the ancient words he needed to utter when the time was right.  He looked her way to study her regal profile.  “Selfishly I let the gate remain open.  If I hadn’t…”  He scowled and shifted back to the stare at the arch.  The bane of his existence.  Responsibility. “If I hadn’t we might have ended the threat of this darkness once and for all.  I don’t know what needs to be done this time.  What help there is or isn’t.  Mortal men forget about magic; it could be that there is no one left who remembers.  I may return because there is nowhere else to go.”

Alana reached out to touch his shoulder, but Thane was already moving away to stand in the circle.  The coin was in his hand – a key of sorts, carved with an intricate rune that only revealed itself when the stars permitted.  The stones took on a pinkish color and seemed to glow from within.

“Or,” Alana said, “You may stay because you’ll never truly be happy if you don’t.”

Thane’s smile was a touch sad as he replied, “You know me too well.”  But whether that was a yes, or a no was a secret meant only for the two of them.  He lifted a hand, and spoke words of ancient power, dropping the coin.  In a flash of light he was gone.

Cold.  So very cold.  The white snow swirled around him and covered the hide of his boots as he stepped away from the stone circle on the other side.  He glanced up, hoping to see familiar stars, but although it was night, only clouds were above.  Another flake fell on his nose and he hastily brushed it away, both irritated and pleased by the sensation.  Senses were so much more vivid here.

Thane was pleased to see that the portal remained surrounded by trees.  Man tended to defeat nature.  The town grew ever closer to this sacred place.  In time someone would remove it, not understanding the portal for what it was.

Hands in his pockets, Thane moved through the trees, not at all surprised to see that civilization encroached and his distance to walk was shorter than remembered.  The trees gave way to a dark tary surface.  Thane squatted down and laid a hand on the asphalt, perplexed by the hard and unfamiliar plane.  Lights approached at high speed.  He jumped up and out of the way, into the shadows as a horseless carriage bulleted past.  His eyes widened at the motorized vehicle and the wheels that hissed across the ground.

The world was different.  Last time he’d come his clothing had been out of place as well as his accent.  It would have been nice if the snow changed, but the season always seemed to be the same here.  He’d have to watch and adapt quickly.  He was smart enough to do it.  Ten times he’d practiced.  For better or worse, this would be the last.

Without the stars, he couldn’t quite tell which way the town was.  No distant lights revealed the source of civilization.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting instinct choose which way he would walk.   A second carriage hurtled past, the same direction as the first.  He took that as a sign and moved to follow the putrid smell of exhaust. 

“What did you do to all the horses?” He muttered to himself.  He'd find out soon enough he supposed as he started to walk towards the town.

15
Fantasy Roleplay / Royal Change
« on: November 01, 2013, 03:34:00 am »
He was supposed to carry his bride across the threshold.  That’s how it worked in story books.  Cane stood alone in front of the small home he’d built on Perceval’s land and wondered where the fairy tale ending was.  There had been a wedding, yes.  Not even Ariel managed to derail the small gathering of friends and family in Kitting.  Enid’s bar had served as their venue and the King performed the ceremony.  God had to look on from a distance because the church thing really hadn’t worked out.

Cane shivered.  He didn’t want to think about churches now, and the odd occurrence two weeks ago.  He’d learned his lesson again, that he should have more faith in Desiree – but sometimes…he worried, that was all.  They’d managed to avoid whatever plot was planned and Kayla the gypsy even told Cane that his troubles were ‘over the horizon’.  The thick engraved gold band on his finger should be proof. He just hoped Kayla didn’t mean his troubles would also rise with the sun.

Indeed, there was trouble of a sort.  Desiree and Cane returned from their honeymoon only to find things in New Carthage in disarray.  The captain of the guard was required to meet with the king and set things in  order, so Cane took his horse and rode on alone.  She’d promised she’d come.  It was growing dark now.  He’d stayed outside the house for hours, not wanting to break tradition, but as the final minutes of twilight passed Cane felt that familiar flicker of loneliness.

Buck was in the barn.  The horse had been treated well in his absence but he often felt the animal was the only family he had.  His mother certainly didn’t claim the role.  Cane put his hands in his pockets and walked away from the cottage on towards the one grave stone on the property.  Perceval hadn’t been much of a father, denying his role in giving Cane life up until the end.  His death was one of those moments Cane wished he’d been conscious for, if only to prevent it and then give him a piece of his mind.

Another sigh as the wind pulled at the brown tunic he wore.  It ruffled his hair in a gesture that Cane might imagine affectionate.

“Well, old man,” Cane said to the gathering dark.  “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

He didn’t expect an answer.  Not all the dead stayed dead in New Carthage, but Perceval hadn’t reappeared since his murder.  The silence stretched and clung.  Cane sighed again, wondering what he’d really expected. 

He turned to go back to the house, but something shiny on the course earth caught his eyes.  He knelt down to see what it was, letting his hands run over the ground.  Loose pebbles ran through his fingers and pinged against the trio of rings on his hand. The flicker didn’t appear again, but the feel of the earth was different. 

Someone dug up the grave.

16
Freestyle Roleplay / Pretty Paper, Pretty Ribbons
« on: October 15, 2013, 06:56:01 am »
click


He should be sitting at his usual table at the Copper Wheel.  Black Falls had little entertainment on a Friday night.  Most men in the small western town in the New Mexico territory celebrated the end of the week with a drink or a game of cards.  As Doc Scully walked past the swinging saloon doors his arm actually lifted to touch the polished wood.  He could hear the piano and guitar playing.  Laughter and the smell of smoke. Someone was singing a Christmas carol and the sad melody made him nostalgic for the snow he’d known most of his life.  This would be the second holiday he’d spent in this backwater town with its dry heat and near desert terrain.  Christmas was a week away, but it seemed some were already getting into the spirit.

This is your life now.  You made a choice.

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon, as he walked on, the wayward hand falling to his side.  The stables were on this end of town and his feet were carrying him there to fetch his horse for the ride to Sal’s place.  He’d been invited to dinner a few weeks ago, and put off making good on the invitation.  He’d run into the lady rancher today and she’d reminded him of the offer.  He’d had no further excuse to say no. 

Not that he was avoiding Sal. He considered her a friend, as much as he had any.  Here, people called him Doc, rather than Jake, and tended to want something when they came to visit.  Sal had raided his medicine cabinet, supplies overall low due to issues with Indian raids.  The dinner was her way of paying off the debt even though Jake had charged her a fair price. 

Nothing more.  Nothing less.

The breeze that ruffled his short brown hair held a hint of rain.  It would likely storm this weekend, the pinkish sky scattered with clouds.  Jake stepped off the wooden sidewalk and onto the dirt road, rounding the last corner that led to the stables.

The blacksmith was feeding the animals and securing the barn for the night.  “Evenin’ Doc,” he said.

Jake tipped his black Stetson in greeting.  “Morris.  How’s that burn doing?” An arm was shown for inspection.  In the dim light, Doc’s amber eyes examined the branding iron scorch.  “You putting that cream on like I showed you?”

The blacksmith smiled, a few teeth missing in his grin. “Sure thing Doc.  Works like a charm.  My misses used some for the rash on the baby’s bum the other day too.”

Jake shook his head.  The cream wasn’t meant to be multipurpose, and there wasn’t much to spare if the blacksmith wanted to avoid a scar.  He opened his mouth to say as much, then changed his mind.  A lecture would take time, and he suspected the blacksmith wasn’t really worried about a scar.   Instead he said, “I’m taking Tanner out.”  Of course there was little reason for Jake to be here other than to fetch his horse.  The buckskin was…tanner…than his last mount, and thus the unimaginative name.   The horse heard Jake’s voice and leaned his head out over the stall door.  One hoof pounded on the wood urging the man to ‘get a move on’.

The blacksmith nodded, and Jake took the hint to gather his saddle and bridle so the man could bolt the barn for the night.  “You gonna be back tonight?”

The speculative look wasn’t missed, but Jake wasn’t planning to start any rumors.  “Yep.”

It seemed his plans were known.  “Long ride out to Sal’s place.  Indians been sighted in the Valley.  You sure it’s safe to travel at night?”  Morris gave him a wink.

Jake pretended not to understand the innuendo. He wasn’t about to ask Sal to put him up.  “Just going to dinner.”  His hands weren’t holding any flowers.  Couldn’t he go and have some roast chicken without half the town whispering?  Jake cinched the saddle with more force than necessary.  He smiled, and felt no qualms showing his straight white teeth.  “I’ll let myself into the barn.  No need to fuss and stay up.”

“Sure thing Doc,” Morris said with another wink.

It probably didn’t help that he’d actually shaved and polished his boots.  With a sigh, Jake led the horse out of the barn.  He buttoned his overcoat and mounted Tanner.  “Night, Morris,” he said, before giving the horse a gentle tap with his spurs and trotting off into the sunset.

17
Hype / Trailers
« on: October 11, 2013, 09:10:57 pm »
Feel free to use this thread to discuss upcoming movies - or movies you just discovered and wished you'd seen in the theater.

I'll go first.  While listening to some of our epic playlists, this trailer popped up.  I had no idea this was coming, and while Frankenstein was the Dr. not the monster, it still looks pretty cool.

I, Frankenstein

I love the cape-wings thing in the opening scene.  I definitely need that accessory....and a character that can wear it.

18
OOC Discussion / Epicenter available threads
« on: October 05, 2013, 12:13:17 am »
If you post an open thread, please feel free to add to this one as an announcement that you are looking for participants.  That will save everyone from mining the Epicenter specific OOC and hopefully jump start new stories.

I posted two:

1) The Elevator - idea being random character interaction.   This could spark other follow-up conversations or gossip.  You can appear once, or many times.  Feel free to drop in whenever.   If you're feeling creative, predict something about the next poster or leave them something to deal with in a one-shot post.

2) What happened to Henry Olsen - murder on the 5th floor.  Dead body found in apartment 5A.  It's 6 a.m.

19
Epicenter / The Elevator
« on: October 05, 2013, 12:05:50 am »
Two paper sacks of groceries in hand, Reed Beaumont walked towards the elevator in the Royal Astaire Apartment building.  He’d been to the market and the handle of one bag had split on his way back.  Now he juggled the broken bag under one arm while he fumbled for the button that would call the old elevator to carry him to the 5th floor.  Normally he’d take the stairs.  A believer in efficiency, Reed knew the stairs were often faster, even if the marble steps were scuffed and the contained hall a bit musty.  Like most old buildings the elevator didn’t always work.  Reed tapped his foot at the delay as the light on the wall indicated the elevator was descending slowly 6,5,4,3.

Hum…  The pause of the elevator on the third floor did not go unnoticed.  Reed shifted the grocery bag with its  routine assortment of canned goods of food he could actually cook (chili, tuna, soup) and pushed the button again.  No one lived on the third floor to his knowledge.  The reason unknown and one he didn’t care to contemplate as he waited for the steel cage to complete the random stop.

Finally, with a ding the elevator doors opened.  Once inside, he leaned forward to awkwardly push the button for the fifth floor and waited for the doors to close behind him.  Indeed, they started to shut, only to retract at the presence of a small dog that wandered across the threshold.  The Pomeranian was well groomed and off leash, it's jeweled collar serving no purpose other than to display status.  Reed shifted his weight from foot to foot as he awaited the arrival of the owner.  The dog stared up at the tall man with the windblown blond hair and blue eyes.  Reed couldn’t help sticking his tongue out at the dog.  He really didn’t like that animal.


{next poster owns a dog}

20
Epicenter / What Happened to Henry Olsen?
« on: October 04, 2013, 10:03:14 pm »
Reed Beaumont made his way to the fifth floor via the fire escape.  Dressed in black, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his blond hair he ascended the old metal stairs soundlessly.  It was art, more than science - where to step, and where to skip a rung of the white painted metal.  Practice made perfect. The sun would be up soon, but for now Reed moved like a shadow up the criss-crossed landings towards his apartment in the Royal Astaire.  His window in 5C was his own private entrance and the glass gave soundlessly under his gloved fingers as he slipped inside.  Booted feet hit the ground, in a catlike maneuver that landed him gracefully on all fours on the hardwood floor, before he stood straight.  The old building didn’t creek in response to his arrival.  Within seconds he shed the tools of his trade: backpack, electronics, rope and skid proof shoes.  All items were inconspicuously stored in the closet. The velvet jewel case went into the safe.  He smiled as he spun the dial, admiring the diamonds one final time before locking them away.

Can never be too careful.  No telling who might have sticky fingers.

Like a normal person, Reed tossed the sweatshirt on the back of the dinette chair.  His apartment was small, one bedroom with an eat in kitchen.  It suited his needs, located in the heart of Cook Town and close to his regular place of work, Marcum Electronics.  Glancing at the clock he wouldn’t have time for a nap before getting ready for the day.

Pity.  He yawned and scratched his head, sleepily.  In sweatpants and a t-shirt he looked rumpled and in need of a shower.  Reed was considering making some coffee when there was a knock at the door.
He hadn’t been moving around, but he stood still, startled by the sound.  Visitors didn’t frequent the fifth floor of the apartment building at six a.m.  It could be a mistake of course.  Apartment 5C was close to the elevator.  A few lost people had asked him for directions before.

The knock sounded again.  “Who is it?”  Reed called.

“Police.”

Unexpected.  Reed didn’t panic.  He was confident this was coincidence.  He’d executed his latest heist without being seen.  Ego didn’t cloud his vision, the crime completely untraceable. With a casual shrug, Reed moved to the door.  On the way he picked up his pair of wireframe glasses.  He didn’t need them to see, but they helped him slip into his daytime persona of nerdy computer geek.

The chain remained on the door as Reed opened it slightly.  Sure enough the blue uniform of Cook Town’s finest greeted him on the other side.  Reed blinked owlishly.  “Can I help you?”

A badge was flashed.  “Sorry to disturb you at this hour.  I’m here about Mr. Henry Olsen in apartment 5A.”

Reed didn’t respond immediately.  He remained behind the chain, waiting to learn more.  No point in volunteering that he didn’t know his neighbor well.   The policeman didn’t seem to mind the silence.  He went on to ask, “When did you last see your neighbor?”

Two doors down technically wasn’t a neighbor.  Olsen was ten years his senior.  Divorced.  They didn’t travel in the same social circle.  “Dunno.  Few days maybe.  I think I passed him in the elevator, but I can’t say for sure.”  He figured it was expected, so he did his best to appear curious, “You looking for him?”

“No,” the police officer said. 

The elevator behind him opened and a pair of men wheeling a gurney got off.  The metal wheels squeaked as they crawled across the floor.  Reed looked beyond the policeman to see the two heading down the hall to the open door of 5A.  He didn’t have time to ask if his fellow resident was hurt.  The policeman informed him.  “He’s been murdered.”


21
Hype / I need a hug
« on: September 30, 2013, 08:45:01 pm »
This will be the place for anyone to post - desiring "hug" as per the title.

I'll go first.   Next poster, please hug me and tell me how wonderful I am.

(I might later retitle this 'random compliment of the day' - will see if the hugs are high quality first) :cake4:  Bottom line though I've suffered some trama around the death of a character and I'm still shaking.  *eats cake*

22
OOC Discussion / Gloryland
« on: September 21, 2013, 11:58:15 pm »
Wanted to do something with Jill, so we decided to resurrect Gloryland.   Reed and Dolly are going demon hunting.  There are two more spots in the car if anyone else wants to play.

Thread is up in Fantasy.

23
Fantasy Roleplay / Gloryland
« on: September 21, 2013, 11:56:33 pm »
Why do they call it a wake?

Reed Blackwood looked at the people who crowded the house, most family, all friends and wondered why they were here.  Jessie was dead.  His older brother wouldn’t be waking anytime soon, and no one should see his body, mutilated as it was.  There was nothing here to celebrate even though someone played hymns in the living room while others swapped plates of food and drank tea.

People were smiling.  That bothered him most of all. Death was tragic and not the joyous passing into another life that the preacher claimed.  If the scriptures were right, Jessie now lived in hell and suffered while his killer roamed free, ready to strike again.  Reed looked out the window, half expecting Bobbie Blackwood to crawl up the driveway and finished what he started.  Since the gravel drive was empty, that meant Reed would need to go look for him.

Fifteen minutes.

No one would believe it, so Reed hadn’t shared what he’d seen in his nightmare, what he suspected his cousin Dolly saw three nights ago when she found Jessie.  The story was type you might read on the back of a glossy paper back:  Bobbie Blackwood went out one night hunting a demon, and disappeared, only now it seemed that he decided to hunt his own. All Reed’s training hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of possession and revenge, but Reed figured he’d find a way to be up for the challenge.  It wasn’t like he needed to grow-up, he’d finished school and held a job, even made a decent living riding rodeo which allowed him to see more than the backwoods or tiny town where he’d grown up.  It wasn’t like he was needed here.  His mom was more than capable to deal with the younger siblings and the farm; she had more family than Reed cared to count.  Although…

Not for the first time he glanced at his watch, the movement subtle as he set the food on the table for all the guests. From here he could see his Chevy pickup out the window, washed and parked at the end of the drive. Escape, yes, but he wasn’t going home.

Ten minutes.

Pages: [1]