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Rpc Name: Sairaith

Nation: Horus

Rank:Trainee

Bloodline applied for: Arachnoid
What you know about the bloodline: Arachnoids are graceful unassuming people that most dismiss as frail or weak. Which Arachnoids love because for most of them their chosen profession is assassination. They are strong in the way a runner is, with stamina, not the physical prowess of a boxer. They have the ability to create webs with their hands. These webs are incredibly strong and razor like, they have the ability to cut through everything from skin to steel depending on the strength and ability of the Arachnoid. Arachnoids can also charge weapons with an elemental power of choice, however they cannot charge their own webs with that elemental power.

Rp Sample: The Horus desert, a literal deathtrap for those unprepared for its unforgiving nature. The golden sands almost appeared to be on fire, a sharp contrast to the pale blue of the skyline. But the sky was not a forgiving goddess, her limited cloud cover offered no protection from the blazing midday sun, in fact it appeared to amplify the rays' heat. A watery haze began to form in between the sand dunes, crafting itself in the way a spider crafts its web, but unlike the ethereal beauty of a dew covered sticky silk web, this web only created a suffocating barrier that was impossible to see once trapped in it.

A length of black broke through the haze, steadily forcing its way into open air. Its color changed as it walked out onto level ground, revealing a figure shrouded in a tattered beige cloak that settled on its shoulders and fastened across its chest. A gust of wind and sand blew at the figure, pulling back the cloak and showing a long female body. Black fabric wrapped tightly around her body, the cloth artfully designed to reveal both everything and nothing, it hugged the generous curve of her chest and hips and left nothing to the imagination. The seam of the top dived scandalously deep between her breasts and the bottom piece just barely covered the tops of her thighs. A red gauzy fabric wrapped around the black, offering nothing to the outfit but sensual decoration. The clothing was not designed for practicality, but rather to stimulate the more forbidden senses. In fact the only practical thing the woman was wearing, besides the long cloak, was a pair of knee length black boots.

The woman moved with an air of natural grace, her steps steady in the soft sands, but they were also awkward as if she was used to exaggerating the sway of her hips when she walked. A second gust of wind came up and blew the cloak back again, showing off a gun belt of tanned leather that rode low on her hips, barely staying up, like the belt wasn't designed with the woman's narrow waist in mind. The gun belt had several squared pouches attached to it, wrapping from her left side all the way to the small of her back. At her right hip was a six shooter pistol with a gorgeous sandalwood butt. The woman's nimble fingers traced the butt of the pistol with a loving caress as she muttered to herself. “One foot, then the next...c'mon Sairaith, it can't be that much farther....no one has to know what you've done...no one can know...” With that last line she whipped the pistol from the belt, then with a practiced speed released the cylinder then spun it with her left hand before turning her right wrist to lock the cylinder back into place. She cocked the gun and placed it to her right temple and without hesitation she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. The pistol whimpered with a small click, but there was no flash from the muzzle, no bullet drove itself into her temple to spill blood and brains onto the sands below. Sairaith whined softly to herself, running a hand through her vibrant red hair. Tears threatened to well up in her bright blue eyes as she pulled the cylinder to the pistol out to see that the single bullet was two chambers away from where she wanted it to be. “You can't kill yourself like that,” A male drawl caressed over her, laughing cruelly as she flinched in response, “That would be boring. No, no, I think it be much more appropros for you to go on living covered in blood you can't wash off.”

In one smooth motion Sairaith holstered the pistol and snapped her hands up to cover her ears, “Go away, voice!” She screamed, “You are NOT real, I do NOT have to put up with you, go away...go away...” The voice chuckled coldly before petering out and then disappearing. That stupid voice had been following Sairaith since “The Incident”.

“The Incident” was what Sairaith called her capture by a band of wandering thieves and pillagers. They had caught her off guard one day when she was practicing with her father's six shooter. A man had grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with a cloth that had some sort of foul smelling chemical on it. The attackers had easily overpowered Sairaith, and she passed out before she could scream for help. When she woke she was naked, except for a thin piece of white fabric that billowed around her body, clinging to her in all the right places to tease male interests. Disgusting, dirty men hovered over her, leering at her, telling her all kinds of horrible things they wanted to do to her, but not a single one touched her. Their apparent leader ordered them to keep their mitts off of her lest they be cut off. She was a gift for their master and was to be kept virginal and pure. The very thought of being given over to some fat, lazy Sheik made Sairaith want to vomit, but she steeled her resolve.

Sairaith had been born to a lap of comfortable luxury, but her father made sure that she was kept busy, not with menial labor intended for servants, but with learning the art of Gunslinging. Every day Sairaith's father woke her up early to send her out for a run while the sun was still down. By the time she got back the sun was up and she was sent through a rigorous training schedule involving strength training, calisthenics, and most importantly how to clean, fire and care for a gun like it was your lover and life line. Then in the late afternoons and evenings, Sairaith's mother and tutor were allowed to have her and she went through etiquette training, dance lessons, learned how to be a lady and whatever boring schoolwork her tutor thought was appropriate to learn that day. While Sairaith preferred to be wrapped in the latest fashions at a formal dinner party, and while she enjoyed the everyday social life of being a lady kept soft with luxury, Sairaith was also trained to survive and fight.

And survive she did, Sairaith bided her time as the band moved through the desert, watching and waiting, absorbing all the information she could. Two weeks after her capture Sairaith caught sight of a little piece of heaven, her father's sandalwood six shooter resting on the hip of the band's master. It took all of her energy and concentration to not jump the man and steal the gun right that moment, but Sairaith succeeded in maintaining the lazy air and grace that the other girls had developed since their capture. A sardonic look crossed her face for a few quick seconds as she surveyed the other harem girls. They disgusted Sairaith, all of them knew what their fate was going to be, but not a single one was interested in fighting back. They were willing to be at the constant beck and call of men who would do terrible things to them, but Sairaith had a plan for them so they wouldn't have to suffer.

She waited two more days before she caught wind of a wonderful piece of information, the band was not more than three days ride from the nearest village. Sairaith could easily make that ride, or even walk it if it came down to that. As night fell and the men fell into their drunken stupor, Sairaith made her move. She crept silently into the leader's tent and located the six shooter. It and its gun belt were haphazardly thrown across a folding table. Sairaith bared her teeth in a silent growl at the sight, but she calmed herself, her vengeance would be taken in time. She surveyed the tent and saw the leader's beige cloak, she grabbed that first and then a carrying pouch which she filled with as much ammunition as she could, then a large flask filled with water and then finally she wrapped the gun belt around her waist.

She turned to look at the band's leader, he was naked in bed, lying on his stomach with one of the prettier harem girls. The sight made bile rise up in Sairaith's throat, but she pushed it back down and slowly sauntered over to the bed. She brought her hands up and a thin piece of crystalline looking thread started to form between them. It glinted in the lantern light like a spider's web, for that was exactly what it was, a razor sharp thread of a spider's web. Unlike what her captor's thought, Sairaith was not human, she was an Arachnoid, a graceful race with certain spider like abilities that had the all too real potential to be deadly. Sairaith slipped the thread under the leader's head and slit his throat. The sudden pain jolted him awake and he tried to jerk to some form of an upright position, but the thread had cut his jugular, and he was bleeding out before he even fully realized what was happening. The harem girl awoke as well and had just enough time to scream loud enough to wake the dead before Sairaith grabbed her head and snapped the girl's neck. With growled curses, Sairaith pulled the six shooter from its holster, quickly checking to be sure it was loaded before she rushed out of the tent.

Every where around her men struggled to their feet, but their movements were slow and sluggish. Sairaith smirked, in addition to having a lethal weapon on her body at all times, Sairaith was also proficient in crafting poisons. Tonight she had slipped one into the mens' wine, this particular poison made the victim's body feel heavy, in large enough doses it was capable of forcing a man's heart into overdrive, causing him to drop dead of a heart attack. It wasn't her poison of choice, but it's what she could make from the limited medical stores the men carried. She watched with a sadistic satisfaction as some of the larger men fell to the ground, clutching their chests. They writhed for a few long and painful seconds before they stilled in death. She used the confusion their unexpected deaths caused to rush to the harem girls' tent.

Sairaith was determined to free these girls from their slave life. She had planned for a rather unorthodox way of doing it as well that would both free them and save them for a painful death of dehydration and starvation in the desert. She grabbed two sealed urns that she had left outside the tent not twenty minutes before, and threw them into the tent. They shattered as they hit hard surfaces and a blue green gas started to fill the tent. Sairaith quickly sealed the tent shut before she breathed any of the fumes in. The girls jolted awake and started choking on screams as the gas worked on them, paralyzing their lungs and causing them to suffocate. It wasn't pretty and most would not consider it nice, but Sairaith considered it a gift. The girls were free now. Her only regret was that she didn't have supplies to craft a poison that would kill them all instantaneously.

She turned to look back at the surviving men, they were slowly starting to regain control of themselves. There were too many of them for her to take all of them out. She was strong, but it was the type of strength that a runner had, stamina, but not much physical power. She chuckled in satisfaction as several walked into the vicious webs of razor like thread that she had crafted in between the tents. The men tangled themselves up in the webs, inflicting vicious cuts on themselves. Without immediate medical attention the men would bleed out. One or two had all ready passed out from the shock of the wounds. Sairaith aimed her six shooter at two men who were starting to stumble her way. She fired twice and the two bullets pierced the mens' skulls directly between their eyes, killing them before they hit the ground. Then Sairaith ran to a saddled Arabian stallion. The horse tried to throw her, but Sairaith hung on. The dainty pleasure riding that Sairaith had learned wasn't really enough to prepare her to ride this horse, but Sairaith was a survivor and was determined to make the horse work for her.

When the horse was mostly under her control Sairaith turned to shoot two urns that she had place at the edge of the camp, right next to two tents. The urns were filled with gunpowder and they exploded as the bullets pieced them. She didn't wait to watch the camp go up in flames, instead she kicked the sides of the horse and sped off into the night.

That had been four days ago. The horse had dropped dead from dehydration and exhaustion in the middle of the third day. Sairaith had cut some of the horses meat off its body and cooked it that night. It wasn't a pleasant thing, eating the jerkied flesh of a horse, but Sairaith had no idea how much longer she was going to be stumbling through the desert. What little water she had was beginning to run low, if she didn't find a town by the middle of the day tomorrow she would run out, and a few days after that she would die.

Sairaith pulled the gun out of its holster again. “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the disembodied male voice said, “You know its not going to work, stop giving yourself a false hope.”

“ I could load the entire cylinder. That way I would definitely blow my own brains out,” Sairaith growled, silently cursing the desert heat for causing her to hallucinate.

The male voice laughed coldly, “Try it, the gun will jam. I can guarantee that.” Sairaith snapped her blue eyes up to glare at the empty air, for some reason she was half expecting some sort of Cheshire grin to be floating there.

Sairaith shook her head and pulled the cylinder out to spin it again. Then she placed the gun to her head and sighed when all she heard was the hollow click of an empty chamber. A large scorpion the size of a small dog scurried across her path, she pointed the six shooter at it and pulled the trigger. A loud bang resounded around her as the muzzle flashed and the bullet severed the scorpion’s head from its body. “Figures,” Sairaith muttered as she pulled a new bullet from one of the pouches on her belt and reloaded the gun before holstering it. She pulled the cloak closer around her body to protect herself from the sun and pulled a loose piece of the cloak up around the lower half of her face, then resumed her steady pace heading over another sand dune, praying a village was just beyond the next one.

no s**t o.O if you have any friends, let crew know and we will send invites. We are always looking for new members.

Alas, Gaia reduces four pages in word to what looks like a tiny post. I rushed it a bit, but had fun. I do kinda wish that Arachnoids could charge their web with an element because I had a sadistic idea for how to kill the band leader, but cutting his throat did the trick too.

Exquisite Entropy wanted me to let you know that he's the one who brought Garden of Wisteria and I here. He said something about the guild needing two more lovely ladies to grace it. (Or something, I may be putting words into his mouth with that last sentence. XDD <3)

Actually, you can with a later skill you learn.

I have found that girls generally play men better than most male rpers. Perhaps this is because there generally seem to be more female players than males or perhaps it is because we type out the type of men we personally would like to interact with. I think by far, the most popular male rper here is Fenrir. But his character generally makes more enemies than friends and he is the only male here who will act like the biggest d**k around without caring. The other boys (most of them) want to play the knight and such a vast amount of the same charater tends to be boring, especially since most of the females here seem to have bad a** girls. A smaller amount i would say are in the gopd god fearing virgin category.
But i think i am babbling. Point is, i think girls make better guys because thy are more extreme from what i have seen. They also seem to have a broader range of emotions and nicer backstories.

Lol i have a thing for villians. I find them to be deeper than most other characters. The transition from man to monster is awesome

::fangirls hard::

Why does every guy playing a guy character be a d**k, insane, or a white knight? stare