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Topics - Bleu

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1
Fan-Based Roleplay / Legacy of the Force: A Star Wars Story [Closed]
« on: March 07, 2020, 09:38:39 pm »
It was official—young Colwyn had just turned thirteen, and he felt like he was on top of the world. Not only did he habitually outperform his peers in the initiate trials, he knew how to do things that even young padawans were still struggling with—and he wasn’t ashamed to let them know. And he certainly did so—often enough that there was hardly a person in the planet that could keep his presence for more than a few hours at a time. Their struggle, his swiftness in learning and adapting, and the looks he often drew to himself from his superiors were like nutrients that fed his very hungry need for attention.

If he had been a thorn at his teachers’ sides when he was only twelve, now that he was thirteen he was appropriately insufferable. The debate on whether it had even been worth it to admit such a talent was a conversation that came up multiple times during the week. Alas, his potential was more impressive than the quirk they sincerely hoped would fade over time.

That was all fine and dandy, but now Colwyn was a teenager! He was basically already an adult!

It was a bright morning in the Jedi Temple of Gatalenta when Colwyn found himself in the common area, twirling his saber with the force in one hand while the other rested casually on his hip. It wasn’t a busy morning, but the young initiate had no trouble finding a way to entertain himself.

“Could you stop?!” One of the two Younglings that towered over Colwyn spoke angrily—he was so disturbed that one could basically see smoke coming from his scarlet ears—his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Seriously, why do you always do this?” The second Youngling was not quite as loud as the first, but his eyes carried the same—if not greater—anger.

Evidently, this was not the first time that there had been tension between the three.

Despite the fact that Colwyn was older than his two fellow initiates, he was short for his age. The two towered over him in an attempt at peaceful intimidation. Colwyn could only smile at this—his grin wide and inviting. It was almost mocking.

Why did they think they could intimidate him now? It hadn’t worked before, and it truly did little to trouble Colwyn even in the slightest.

“I was just doing you a favor,” he mused casually, waving a hand in the air as if his interference hadn’t mattered. “You were going to lose in three turns anyway, I was just speeding up the process. That way, you could stop playing that dumb game and do something productive with me instead.”

They tried to stifle and angered chortle, before one of them decided to speak up. “We don’t want to train with you.

“Yeah!” The other mirrored.

“Sure you do,” said Colwyn turning to the loud Youngling, unperturbed. “You need help with your balance—I can’t imagine that last embarrassing performance yesterday would make you want to practice your strategy, not when you’re falling so behind the rest of the initiates in keeping your footing!” Then he turned to the other, grin growing grander. “And you, your abysmal hand-eye coordination should warrant at least a few hours of additional practice, don’t you think? Don’t want to pegged that initiate in the class, now do you?”

“Colwyn, you’re such an—”

“Youngling Colwyn,” a firm voice resonated into the room, and the three younglings fell silent immediately. One of their Jedi teachers stood at the front of the room, looking directly at Colwyn, and she did not look impressed. She held their silence for a moment before turning to the other two. “Youngling Silos, Youngling Kang, please make yourselves useful elsewhere.

Colwyn had only just stopped twirling his saber in his hand, catching it into his hand, when the two Younglings had fled the room. Naturally, Colwyn was about to explain the entire situation, but he was cut off by his teacher.

“I don’t need to hear it,” she said, a hand raised to demand silence from Young Colwyn. Truthfully, she would have listened if it had been any other Youngling, but she knew Colwyn too well to expect anything else. “You are being summoned by the Jedi Council this morning. Follow me.”

Fully expecting the youngling to follow suit, the Jedi turned on her heel and walked out the door and into a grandhall. The walkways were long, with tall ceilings, walls made of glass, and many interconnected corridors that led to the various different areas of the temple.

“Summoned?” Colwyn had no problems speaking up, and he fell into a brisk walk alongside his Jedi teacher. Nose in the air, he felt somewhat indignant.His golden hair shone under the natural light, and his peachy skin seemed almost translucent. “I find it hard to believe that my sincere, complete, and expertly accurate honesty could have gotten me into trouble with the council. Surely there’s been a misunderstanding, and I fully expect a formal apology—”

The desperation that had been quietly brewing in the Jedi’s mind threatened to spill, and she sped up her pace. It did not deter young Colwyn from his monologue.

“Have you no need to stop and draw breath, Youngling Colwyn?” She interrupted him, a vein of frustration tarnishing her otherwise blemish free forehead. “Practice silence, if you’d please—meditation will do you well!”

It wasn’t long before they reached the door to the Council’s meeting chambers. The Jedi teacher waited at the door’s side, and motioned with her hand for the young initiate to walk in.

“In you go,” she pressed.

Colwyn gave her a hard stare, eyeing her from head to toes, arms crossed. She really did think she was high and mighty, didn’t she? After another minute of unspoken tension, his emerald eyes turned towards the entryway to the room. The council waited for him on the other side, and he would be ready for them.

Without even another glance to his Jedi teacher, he walked in. Everything would sort itself out—of that he was certain.


2
Fan-Based Roleplay / An Era of Theatrics [Closed]
« on: March 23, 2014, 09:27:27 am »
Throughout all of his time in London, Donovan had never minded the rain. People complained that it was gloomy and depressing, but he never felt anything other than relaxation from it. He found it comforting, and a perfect condition during which he could continue his many duties as a student and as a son. The rain wasn’t even a problem in his football career, for he had no issues playing in the rain and getting dirty. There was nothing that the rain couldn’t clean, and he liked the thought.

A clean slate.

The young boy of fifteen years leaned back on the passenger’s seat, resting his head back as the small silver car moved through traffic. His eyes were closed, but a smile was on his face. He had just had a wonderful practice for his school’s football team, and the muddied red jersey he wore was a sign of that. Now he only had to get through the rest of the day. It wasn’t heavy rain, at least not heavy enough to cancel his first meeting at a local theater.

The Brighton Community Theater of London.

His mother had encouraged his participation, which had eliminated any chances Donovan might have had at having some free time. It would help his future, she had said.

“Are you sure your mum can pick you up?” Laura asked as she turned into the parking lot of the theater. “I don’t mind coming back, Donny. Besides, why can’t I just take a quick peek to see what all the fuss is about? I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

The woman joked.

Laura was Donovan’s girlfriend, chocolate-skinned and beautiful. She didn’t mind that Donovan was two years younger than she, for he was tall, handsome, and intelligent way beyond his years. It was in an advanced mathematics classroom that they had met. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that she wanted something with him. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he wanted the same thing, either.

“I’m doing this for my mum,” said Donovan, opening his eyes and turning to meet Laura’s with his. “I would feel more comfortable if I went in alone, and if she picked me up herself. You know how she is, she’ll suspect me if you pick me up – say that I never even came to the theater.”  Donovan knew that it wasn’t a good enough excuse, but he didn’t want Laura to see him at something that he may not even enjoy.

The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of his girlfriend.

“Alright,”
she said with a frown, “then at least text me when you’re out.”

Donovan opened the door of the car and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I will.” He was quickly out of the car, umbrella in hand, and sprinting towards the theater entrance. A leather backpack hung casually over his shoulder, filled with notebooks and books, and his gym bag was strapped against the other. It was obvious that Donovan was a busy kid – school, sports, community activities, and a job to top it all off.   

The sound of Laura’s car leaving the parking lot was enough encouragement for Donovan to allow himself inside. He took a look at the lobby area, which presented pictures of past performances and actors. Large wooden double doors greeted him, with a glass chandelier falling from above. His mum had told him that this was one of the best community theaters in London, but he hadn’t quite believed her. The young football player immediately felt out of place.

Donovan had showered after practice and his shoes had been cleaned, but they still squeaked as he walked. He kept his jersey on, however,  for he had forgotten to bring a spare in the midst of his busy schedule.

A sign was posted on the double doors, directing him away from the main theater and towards a small rehearsal room where all actors and volunteers would meet for the first time. Some of them were returning veterans, of course, but it was Donovan’s first time ever doing something like that. Modeling was said to be similar, but Donovan disagreed. The feel of it was completely different.

Donovan ran his fingers through his still damp hair as he followed the arrows towards the rehearsal room. When he arrived, he noticed that the door was already open and that several people were inside. The room was definitely one for rehearsal, for bottles of paint and props were scattered all around.

“Welcome, welcome,” said a woman to him as he entered, waving him in with her hands and giving him a very warm smile. “We’re still waiting for some more people, so why don’t you take a seat Mister…?”

“Bukater,” said Donovan, looking at all the volunteers with a shy smile as the woman flipped through her notebook. “Yes, thank you.” He set his things aside and sat on the closest chair. Despite it being his first time, Donovan did not sound nervous.

“Donovan?”

“That’s right, ma'am.”

“Excellent,” she checked something on her notebook and then smiled to him again. “Welcome.”


3
OOC Discussion / A Tournament’s Revival [Closed] [OOC]
« on: November 08, 2013, 06:42:26 am »
A Tournament’s Revival

Students

Hogwarts

Gryffindor
Aradok Lundstrom – 6th year, Prefect, Quidditch Captain, Chaser, Hogwarts Champion
Geoffrey Figg – 6th year
Henri De Capello – 4th year, Chaser
Skylar Harrier– 7th year, Keeper
Patrick Crane – 7th year, Head Boy, Beater

Hufflepuff
Zephyr Pyrite  - 6th year, Beater
Charlotte Treble - 4th year

Ravenclaw
Marzia Moriattis – 6th year, Prefect

Slytherin

Iris Pyrite – 6th year, President of the Dueling Club, Hogwarts Champion
Darius Rosier – 6th year, Prefect
Cora Prince – 6th year
Mai
Wilson Carrow - 7th year, Head Boy

Beauxbatons
Vincent Lis
Margaret Hendry - Beauxbatons Champion
Brielle Denise - Beauxbatons Champion

Durmstrang
August Larsen - Leader of the Dueling Club, Durmstrang Champion
Pavel Mila - Durmstrang Champion
Staff

Minerva McGonagall – Hogwarts Headmistress
Madam Juliette Parque - Beauxbatons Headmistress
Aleksandar Groff - Durmstrang Highmaster


Coradin Montague – Charms and Arithmancy Professor, Head of Gryffindor House
Oswic Romsey – Potions Professor, Deputy Headmaster, Head of Hufflepuff House
Ruden Flagg – Dark Arts and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Head of Slytherin House
Cordelia Crumb – Transfiguration Professor, Head of Ravenclaw House
? – Astronomy Professor
? – Flying Professor
? – Herbology Professor
? – History of Magic and Ancient Runes Professor
? – Divination Professor
? – Care of Magical Creatures Professor
Roxanna Littrel – Alchemy and Magical Theory Professor


Other

Verity Lundstrom – Aradok’s older sister, Ravenclaw, Ministry Employee; Department of Mysteries
Serena Lundstrom – Aradok’s eldest sister, Ravenclaw, Ministry Employee; Department of Magical Education
Castian Lundstrom - Aradok's father, Ravenclaw, Ministry Employee; Department of International Magical Cooperation
Juno Lundstrom - Aradok's mother, Ravenclaw, Ministry Employee; Department of Foreign Affairs and Sports and former competitive Quidditch celebrity.
Alan Pyrite - Iris and Zeph's father, Slytherin
Rosa Pyrite - Iris and Zeph's mother, Gryffindor
Xander Regnard – Tournament Judge, Slytherin, Ministry Representative; Head of Department of Mysteries
Septima Popper - Journalist for the Daily Prophet



4
Fan-Based Roleplay / The Master's Redemption [Closed]
« on: September 21, 2013, 09:42:34 pm »
All was black. Unmoving. Nonexistent, even.

‘I can hear…’ A distant thought emerged from the darkness – faint but present. A soft whirring rumble was echoing, but was muffled dramatically. What a sight it was to hear something after many immeasurable instances of silence. A trick, perhaps? ‘Yes,’ agreement followed in a hiss, realization tinting the thoughts, ‘I can hear… Why can I hear?’ The thoughts were becoming louder and clearer, and a curious sensation overcame the mind. Was it reason? Was it merely consciousness?

Was it the drums?

Fear, anger, disappointment, ecstasy, and yearning all appeared, striking the beating hearts of the man with a strange feeling. ‘It can’t be…’ Madness guided the thoughts, torturing the waking mind. Feeling began to resurface, and the senses took over. His body stretched over the hard surface in which he laid, feeling the texture of the mud and the dirt around him. It felt good against his skin, familiar – as if he hadn’t been able to feel anything in years. The sounds around him were becoming sharp, understandable.

‘Four…’ The drums tortured him in patterns, always lurking in the back of his mind. ‘There were four…’

With a start, the man let out a cough, his eyes snapping open at last. The man’s eyes seemed glossy, perceiving only the blurry and avoiding the sharp. His chest moved quickly, his breathing adjusting to the panic he felt. Then, focus came. The sky painted the picture above him, with many stars outstretched before him. Distant planets adorned it, peaceful and silent. ‘The drumming…’ His concern did not fade, and the whirring sound that had awoken his nightmare continued.

He sat up, eyes wide, with a trace of the madness that doomed him still lingering in them. A blinking light caught his attention, but his ears focused on the sound. It was an engine – a machine’s life calling out to him. ‘The drumming…’ The worry remained, stubborn and persistent in reminding him of his wickedness. When he blocked out the sound of the machine, however, he heard only silence.

Silence.

The man’s hands traveled to his face, traveling from his ears to his hair. The man’s eyes were still locked on the blinking light, completely still. His lips, dry and cracked, formed into a smile. “I’m free…” the man muttered his first words in a croak. “I can’t hear them…” His chest slowed down as his face turned to inspect his surroundings. It was dirty land, with scraps of machines littering it in mountains of junk.

‘So this is what it feels like…’ a loud laugh boomed from his voice, and the grin that had once struck fear around the whole world, made an appearance once more. ‘Freedom.’ His legs moved, and his knees pushed him to stand up. He’d been weak, but his strength was coming back. A sanity that he never possessed finally clearing his clouded mind and judgment. The drums were gone. They would no longer plague his mind. They would not bend him to its will anymore.

He moved to the blinking light, touching the glass that surrounded it with his muddy hands. Around the light were a series of lit up buttons, a broken lever standing upright above them all. The man knew this machine well. He had seen another like this long ago, disguised as a box in beautiful blue. Could he be so lucky? He stumbled forward, using his hand to push down the lever. The whirring sound that had woken him up from his sleep chimed louder, in singular long beeps. Rays of golden light twirled around him, and the scene that he had woken up to began to dematerialize. A cackle left the man, mixing with the machine’s melody perfectly.

The travel was quick, as if his destination had only been a short walk away. The machine landed hard on the ground, causing the man to tumble on out of it. The surface beneath him was dark, but he recognized it to be grass. Music was close, and as he looked up, he saw a path leading him to a big house. Ornaments of orange and black adorned the garden, and pots of rotting flowers had been set alongside the path.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Said a curiously dressed man next to him – a blue tight outfit with crimson boots and a red cape. To the costumed Superman, the man lying on the floor could only be some sort of zombie.

“I think,” the muddied man croaked, getting up from the floor. “I’m the Master.”


5
Fan-Based Roleplay / A Tournament’s Revival [Closed]
« on: September 21, 2013, 07:21:13 am »
A Tournament’s Revival


Aradok Lundstrom had been born in an utterly normal wizarding family, with a humble home and a humble reputation. The boy was the youngest of three, with the same short brown hair and navy blue eyes he shared with his sisters. His parents were both Ministry workers, and earned a reasonable living. The family was not used to a life of luxury, but they never went without something that they needed. No, they were just were they ought to be.

They were happy as they were.

The boy’s parents attended Hogwarts a few years after the final defeat of Lord Voldemort, both belonging to Ravenclaw house. Aradok’s oldest sister Verity was sorted into Ravenclaw house like her parents, as was the middle daughter, Serena.  Each of their studies proved fruitful enough to bring the family a good future, but neither daughter was prey to much attention throughout their educational career. Their OWLs were quite solid, and their futures promising.

Even when their youngest child, Aradok, went to Hogwarts, the Lundstroms were not the topic of conversation. Other families had been more successful in causing envy among the wizarding world. Although pureblood families in their elitism had been sinking since Voldemort’s defeat, some still remained, feeling like their lineage was that of royalty. The Lundstroms were not bothered by this, in spite of it all. They led a comfortable life, and had nothing to be ashamed of.

Some things, however, slowly began to change for them.

The first change was Aradok’s sorting into Gryffindor house, very much unlike the rest of his family. A part of the boy wished to be sorted into Ravenclaw, but he settled into Gryffindor easily enough, making friendships with people of all houses. He found that his studies were not as hard as his sisters made them out to be. He excelled in almost every subject, save Herbology and History of Magic. He made the house Quidditch team in his second year, the year that Serena graduated, and team captain his fourth.

Aradok’s fifth year was a big year for him and his family. It started off well when he received a prefect badge by owl post, and got even better once he completed his O.W.L. examinations. He received three ‘Exceeds Expectations’, and seven ‘Outstanding’ scores. He did not measure up to the legend that was Hermione Granger, but he had achieved the highest scores for the house in years. Several other students from his generations excelled in their own OWLs.

After his fifth year, people began to take notice of Aradok. Their family began to receive letters from the ministry in congratulations. His sisters, who could have very easily grown jealous, supported and reveled in his success, a gesture which Aradok appreciated. A part of him didn’t like the attention he was getting because he felt like he was outshining his family. This was not the case. The more Aradok garnered attention, the more Verity and Serena’s own accomplishments got their share of the spotlight. They were even promoted in their respective fields.

The attention Aradok was getting, however, was still minute in comparison to the attention some of the more famous students were getting. In their eyes, Aradok was still the underdog in the world of wizard socialites. He was still a nobody who was merely aspiring to become someone of legend. They paid him no real mind.

Presently, Aradok found himself in platform 9 ¾ saying goodbye to his parents, and his now employed sisters. They each looked at him as if he was a jewel, something for them to show off to the world. Aradok, although flattered, did not like it. He wanted his parents to treat him the same way they always had, with respect and trust rather than admiration. One of the downsides to his apparent success was the expectations that now followed him. He was about to go into his sixth year at Hogwarts, and this year, especially, he was expected to deliver.

There had been rumors that the famous Triwizard Tournament was to be revived this year, after an absence of almost 50 years. The last tournament, as everybody knew, was won by the legendary Harry Potter, which also marked the turning point in Lord Voldemort’s return. If such an iconic event was really making a comeback, this would be a huge year for Hogwarts, and a historic event for the wizarding world. If the rumors were true, Aradok wanted to deliver. Such rumors were confirmed by the Ministry a week before the start of term.

Platform 9 ¾ was buzzing with the recent news. First years were looking more confused than ever, while second years were glad that they were no longer first years. Older students were already wagering bets on who would be the Hogwarts Champion and who would successfully ask a Beauxbatons girl to the Yule Ball. There could only be one champion, though, and the competition was tough.

“Ara!” A voice close to the crimson steam engine called his name. It was a friend of his, Geoffrey, another Gryffindor in whom Aradok had found honesty and trust. “Come on, I’ve already got us a compartment.” The boy always liked being early, almost as much as he liked being mean. “Go on, then!” He said when Aradok signaled that he still needed to say goodbye to his folks.

Their goodbye was not a long one, nor was it sentimental. Aradok simply gave a one armed hug to his parents and sisters, and ignored their good luck wishes in being selected as the Hogwarts champion. He loved his family, but it would be a good thing to be away from them for a while. If he got selected to participate, he’d get to see them again before the winter holidays. Aradok could not help but look forward to the champion selection. It would be the cherry on top of a fantastic education if he was chosen.

Even so, the tournament was not without its dangers…

Aradok thought it best not to think so much on the negative aspects of the tournament. Instead he pushed his trolley forward and gave it to the man loading up the train. He looked at the crimson engine with admiration, and the steam that clouded them. He would never get used to the feeling that it gave him, nor of the excitement that it caused. He could still remember the very first time he had seen it, and how he was overcome with emotion. At the thought of the memory, his hand found his pocket and his fingers brushed his wand.

Ah, his wand. It was a beautifully crafted instrument, 9 ¾ inches, hazel wood with a phoenix feather core, and hard. He had never been far from it since the moment it chose him in Ollivanders, and he never planned to be. His wand was his one true constant companion, and the medium through which he had achieved success.

The wizard made his way into the Hogwarts Express, and soon found the compartment that Geoffrey had mentioned. He was the only one inside for the moment, but their other friends would soon follow. The sound of other students was too loud to block out, they were all ecstatic about the coming year. Each house surely had their candidate for the tournament. He had a good idea on who was his biggest competition. He slid the compartment door opened and let himself in.

“Took you long enough, mate,” said Geoffrey with a goofy smile. “How was your summer, anything new?”

Aradok let out a guffaw as he sat. “You would know if you ever returned my letters, you big idiot. I’ve been writing to you all summer.” Aradok had not really been writing to him all that much, but he knew in his heart that Geoffrey never answered his mail. It was something that he could always depend on. “It went well, though. I stayed home for the most part, but during the weekends I convinced my folks to take me to the arena to fly around the field a few times.”

“Yeah, whatever. I was more curious about what you’ve heard about the tournament.” Ah, so that is what he was asking about. “Don’t your parents work at the Ministry? They must know something!”

“If they did, they wouldn’t tell me anything about it. They love their jobs too much. Merlin’s beard, what happened to your face?.”

Conversation continued at a comfortable pace, especially a large scar on Geoffrey's cheek, but Aradok really just wanted to be back in school. He wanted to see all of his other friends – friends from other houses, the professors, and especially the Headmistress. The young wizard knew that she would be really proud about his OWL scores. For now, all he needed to do was wait for the Hogwarts Express to take off, and ride out the sorting hat’s song. After that, his real vacation would start, and the tournament would begin.

6
Welcome Noobel Blewd! / Oh hey
« on: September 16, 2013, 09:06:18 pm »
Hey errybody !!

This looks neat.

I'm skylar or Robbie or Bleu or whatevs. I'm still sort of new to rping, but I think I've got the hang of it. So yeah. SUP?

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