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 Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 2:07 pm
Drow RP Contest
General Information and Rules An extremely furtive lot that keeps to themselves, best known for living underground in a series of large, gloomy caverns, and also for their penchant for the color black and spiders. The drow live in an extremely rigid matriarchal society, where the females are vicious and the males, extremely subservient. The queen holds her position only through the fear she instills in all around her, and also her large and well-trained private army. Higher ranked drow tend to have low life expectancies; the noble families are locked in a vicious power struggle to seize the throne. One drow family already exists, as viewed here (with additional relatives-in-law XD). Obviously, drows are easily identifiable; they are usually black with white, grey, purple, and red markings--prominently featuring spiders and spiderwebs. However, the drow blood appears to be thinning...rapidly. Therefore, two new drow will be given away through this RP contest (they are not, of course, RP required). The drow RP contest is currently open and will end on Sunday, July 12 at 6:00 PM EST, at which time all entries will be judged by Tiarana, and the winners announced shortly after. You may enter for both pets (just post them separately); however, you may only win one. If you don't like the prompts, feel free to make up your own! To enter, fill out the form below and post it in this thread: [b]Username:[/b]
[b]Applying for:[/b] F/M
[b]Pet's name:[/b]
[b]Prompt response:[/b]
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Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 2:16 pm
Female! Female Prompt You are the beautiful heiress of an ancient drow family, but your colors are sadly inverted! The other noble females tend to alienate you, and even your own family tends not to look you in the eye when they speak to you. You have caught males snickering behind your back, even! How do you assert yourself and gain the respect and/or fear of your peers?
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Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 2:18 pm
Male! Male Prompt Those are some pretty nasty scars for one so young. How did you come by them? Was it a run-in with a nasty female? Were you mauled by some horrible creature of the dark? Tell the tale of how this unfortunate boy came to have his painfully scarred appearance! Note: He has neither spider nor cobweb markings! Is this a factor? Is it not? It's up to you~ o:
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Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 2:21 pm
Entries! Female: Saint-Cinq Suishii Xxsky_goddessxX Male: Saint-Cinq Tellah Amna Neshaka
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2009 11:42 am
Username: Saint-Cinq
Applying for: F
Pet's name: Osiri of Lannister
Prompt response: She felt their stares on her back even as she made her way past them and it made her fur crawl. She had the Lannister name, the poise and grace of a powerful female, but still, they dared to mock her!
She did her best to ignore it, but some days, it overwhelmed her.
This was the final straw. Upset, enraged, and generally very unhappy with her predicament, Osiri locked herself in her bedroom and slumped against the door. A large mirror by her dresser reflected her oh-so-white appearance and she sighed.
She lacked in nothing. Her parents had showered her with all the gifts wealth could bring, and she'd learned of her House's riches and influence by seeing the faces of other drow mice gape at her parents' lavish parties. However, she always remained that untalked about subject, as if she were the one blemish on her noble name...
"Have you heard about the Lannister girl?"
"Oh yes--born with inverted colors! Such an embarrassment to such a noble family."
"Indeed."
This went on and on until she could bear it no longer. Osiri straightened, her expression set, and came up with a plan.
She called in the best builders, diggers, and craftsmen from all over the land, using her family's wealth to entice them in. She showed them the plans she'd drawn up, and demanded their assistance in completing it. They had been hesitant at first, but, with a little bribing, they agreed.
From the outside at first, it seemed as though the family secret was just causing trouble. But, as time passed, others began to see that the Lannisters' daughter was a force to be reckoned with.
When it was complete, Osiri christened it The Gauntlet.
It was composed of a hundred mousetraps in a line, each with the sweetest of cheeses placed in them. She invited any and all who thought that the Lannisters' youngest mouse was something to be scoffed at to try running it. A few dared and failed, and many more did not. She grew in power and watched as her enemies' sneers lessened, and then turned into looks of terror.
And gradually, no one laughed again at the Lannisters' daughter.
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Posted: Tue Jul 07, 2009 8:24 pm
Username: Saint-Cinq
Applying for: M
Pet's name: Mercutio
Prompt response: His life was full of jests, right from the very start. It liked to trip him up and poke fun at him, almost as much as he delighted in making fun of it.
Before he'd even learned the language of humor, the world had played its biggest joke on him by giving him none of the correct drow markings. In a female-dominated society, he'd quickly learned, a male's markings are often his saving grace. To cut to the chase: males married into high society based on how well their potential brides liked their looks. And, well, with his strange coloring, what chance did he stand?
It shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise that he would end up where he did: telling jokes at his House's parties, entertaining at others, always the life of the celebration. With all the scheming and suspicion going around in the high circles, nobles needed a break and a little relaxation from time to time. Mercutio had seen blood enemies break out in laughter together after some of his jokes, and, he figured, he maybe humor was his way to get ahead in the world.
As a mouse without any spider or web markings, just pitch black, he was often the subject of his own jokes. It allowed him not to appear haughty, or above those whom he made fun of. It was one of the safeguards, he thought, among being a member (if a male) of a powerful family, that kept him out of danger.
Or so he thought.
His jokes were well-received, and Mercutio knew when to play the crowd and when to hold his tongue. However, at one party, someone was listening who did not take kindly to his jests.
The night had been a fairly uneventful one. As usual, there had been refreshments, perhaps too much fine cheese, and perhaps it had gone to a few mouse's heads. The company had been delightful, and he had been invited back for next week's gala.
Things had been looking up, until a ring of darkly clad mice appeared around him in the shadows.
Mercutio heard someone whisper, just behind his ear: "You have insulted the wrong drow tonight, dear jester."
And then, the ring closed on him.
They tore into him with their teeth and claws, leaving him bruised and bleeding on the path leading back to his home. He faded in and out of consciousness, to the point where he began to wonder whether or not he had heard a voice to begin with. His parents, upon finding him, were appalled, and immediately began to plot revenge, for there was no mistaking the intent of Mercutio's attacker.
It sent a message: that one drow mouse, even if he were a laughingstock himself, would not be allowed to make light of others' faults.
Mercutio, though, did not stop his jests, though, much to his chagrin, he always walks back to his home with a loyal band of guards.
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Posted: Tue Jul 07, 2009 9:05 pm
Username: Suishii
Applying for: F
Pet's name: Strand
Prompt response:
Strand was a young drow of high birth, and as such, learned from an extremely young age to fight to not only keep what was hers, but to take what was others. No dissent would be tolerated, no insult unrepaid, no mercy given.
If only anyone would take her seriously.
Her pale coloring never failed to draw comment, however secretly whispered among friends. The smirks as she passed her peers in the dark corridors of her home, the knowing looks exchanged between even her own family members, all were intolerable. But she endured them. Until one day it became too much.
A male-- a male!-- had seen fit to make an ill-timed comment to someone as she was passing. He had not known she was there. But the thought of any male at any time demeaning her appearance was infuriating.
As a member of a noble drow family, she had the time, resources and knowledge to make her powerful in the arts arcane. She had in her possession a very rare manuscript describing a method to summon a powerful demon and bend it to her will, ensuring its undying loyalty. The manuscript emphasized its needle-like teeth, deadly curved claws and unending bloodthirst, especially for those of her kind. But Strand knew no fear. She knew the way to control such a demon.
The ancient manuscript led her and a few specially selected servants to the surface world, the place where the demons lived and hunted. It advised her to choose a place to prepare, keeping herself safe from attacks but allowing a good view of an open area suitable for summoning such a large demon. Following precise instructions, Strand spread crushed, dried herbs around the open area, herbs that had taken her a small fortune to procure. A special, shallow dish was laid in the center and filled with a white liquid. This was apparently very attractive to the demons.
Such preparations made, the drow and her entourage hid in a sheltered place and waited.
It took three days for the demon to come.
It was huge, more than four times as big as any mouse, with teeth and claws and a long, twitching tail. Intricate black and gray stripes covered it from nose to tail. Baleful yellow, slit-pupil eyes gleamed with hunger as it spotted the dish filled with sweet liquid. Strand merely waited. The time was not right.
After the demon had drank the liquid, it sniffed curiously at the crushed herbs. Suddenly excited, it rolled its huge, furry body over to wallow enthusiastically in them, emitting an odd, low sound, rumbling like thunder. And yet Strand waited. The time was not right.
After the demon has thrashed about in the herbs for what seemed like an eternity, it settled down, curling its long tail around itself and slitting its eyes. It yawned then, giving the mice a good view of its formidable fangs. Strand waited, and then...
The moment it put its head down and closed its eyes, Strand gave the command. Carefully, silently, her entourage looped a sturdy rope around its neck, leaving a portion to hold on to. Strand herself wielded a special pole, much taller than herself. Dangling from the end by a long, thin rope was a sack filled with more crushed herbs, and, curiously, a bell.
The jingling of the bell was what woke the demon. Her servants scattered, quickly finding shelter. What was to happen next was Strand's burden, to tame the demon or die. Honestly, she had faced worse.
The demon turned towards the noise, pointed ears twitching. With a practiced flip, the drow heiress sent the sack on the end of the pole flying to her left, the bell giving another quiet jingle as it hit the ground. The demon tensed at this, bunching its hind legs to pounce... but not on her. It leaped onto the small sack, daggerlike claws extended as it drew it towards its fangs to deliver a bite that would cut a mouse in two. Swiftly, not releasing the pole, Strand dived for the end of the rope that was fastened around the demon's neck. Using it as a ladder, she crawled up until she sat on the neck of the beast, holding the long pole in one hand and the rope in the other.
Grinning triumphantly, Strand twisted the pole. The sack, still attached by the cord to the pole, popped free of the demon's grasp to dangle enticingly in front of it, jingling faintly. Again the demon's attention turned to it. It moved forward. So did the sack of herbs.
Strand smiled coldly. It was time to return to the underground.
It was said that that day was the bloodiest day the drow had ever known. No one could stand against Strand's demon. Many who tried were eaten. Even after the demon's hunger was sated, it continued to kill, merely playing with the terrified drow seemingly for its own amusement. Strand, atop the demon's neck, made no move to restrain it. She did not even seem to take notice of those dying under the demon's claws. Pleas for mercy were summarily ignored. After all, no dissent would be tolerated, no insult unrepaid. And the whole of her kind had insulted her.
Sated at last, or perhaps merely tired, the demon seemed to lose interest in killing. Strand led the beast away to a cavern specially prepared for it, with more sweet liquid and soft blankets. No one dared to approach her.
And so did Strand cement her place in drow society, rising to infamy as the cruelest, most heartless, and most dangerous. Anyone who dared gainsay, insult, or even glance at her with anything but fear were sacrificed to her demon. It was a very well-fed demon.
Some asked the name of the demon, so they might worship it. Strand merely replied, "Apparently it is called 'cat'."
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 3:45 pm
Username: Xxsky_goddessxX
Applying for: F
Pet's name: Cecile
Prompt response:
The young heiress felt the stares around her. She knew the sneers and mocking eyes were there, even if she didn’t turn her head to see them. This sometimes worried Cecile, if her soon-to-be mice looked on to her as a shame to the royal family, how will she ever rule over them? They’d refuse to listen if she didn’t assert herself and show what they had to be afraid of.
She had thought about this before. The unsure side of her tried to persuade her to take her time. That she was still young, and that eventually, everyone else would have to understand that she had the right to rule. But after a few days of enduring the jeering looks and whispers, Cecile had enough.
Cecile’s first idea was to create a weapon, on in which she could only have and use that to control everyone. But after realizing that all weapons were faulty, and even if she had a huge army or a huge beast of some sort, they had minds of their own. They could betray her. This immediately sent chills down her spine; a weapon was no way to go.
She needed something only she could control, something lifeless, yet powerful. This stumped her for a while, where would she find something like that? She went to the surface to think, and was immediately met by a wave of heat. It was spring time, and it was in the shady forest. It couldn’t possibly be this warm. But she soon found the source of this heat, it came in the form of red, orange, and yellow sparks and whipping strands of what resembled rippling water. But it wasn’t water; water couldn’t dance like that in the open air. She looked in awe until humans started coming into the clearing, bringing twigs and sticks with them. She quickly hid behind a patch of tall grass. Cecile gaped as the fingers of the heat producer crunched up the twigs and charred them until they were jet black. After the human went away, probably looking for more twigs, Cecile took a twig sticking out of the burning pile and ran back to the cave. She was disappointed when it went out immediately.
She went back to the cave and tried to find any information on the scrolls that their family possessed. She found that what she saw was called “fire”. She then saw a triangle; it was what was needed in order for a fire to start. She’d need air, and heat, and something to feed the fire. After studying the fire that the humans made, she realized that they had fire makers. They were small wood sticks with a rounded red tip. They’d rub it against this rectangular box and the fire would be produced.
After stealing a box or two if this fire maker, she set to work. Getting back underground, she secured the bottom of the box so she’d have enough strength to set the stick on fire. It took a couple of tries before Cecile got it right, but soon, she mastered it. She charred her fir once or twice, but she was young, and it soon grew back.
Cecile decided a few days later that it was time to show the other mice this power. She gathered a lot of twigs and fallen tree bark from the outside and put it in a pile on a high stalagmite with a flattened tip. She called out to the other mice, which looked mockingly at the small female mouse up on top of the stalagmite. She had to admit, it didn’t look very impressive, but they would soon see. She ran back to light what she now knew was called a “match”. When she mounted the stalagmite again, the sneers on the faces of the other mice faded instantly. Cecile couldn’t help but to smile.
She lit the pile of twigs and bark and gasps were heard all around. But she still saw some unimpressed glances. She dared anyone who defied her to come and get her through this fire. A few stubborn mice came up, most of them backed down from the heat even before touching the fire. But the few who laid a single paw on the flickering flames immediately scampered back with burnt paws or stinging tails.
Satisfied with her new weapon that no one else knew how to use, Cecile extinguished it by scattering the twigs into the shallow puddles around her. The smoke was a good effect, she had to admit. The vowed that anyone who disobeys her in her time of rule, shall be thrown into the flames. She trotted off with a smile on her face, as the smoke started to fade.
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Posted: Fri Jul 10, 2009 2:39 am
Username: Tellah Amna
Applying for: M
Pet's name: Bardrin
Prompt response: It was a joyous time in the Rilynana House- the first litter their Matron Mother had produced had been four girls- and it looked to be shaping up to be a repeat this second litter... One by one she welcomed a fifth, sixth and seventh daughter into the brood-
Would they be so blessed as to receive an /eighth/ daughter- a sure sign of favor for the spider-obsessed clan? But no- time passed and no eighth daughter appeared... no mousling at all- until, as almost an afterthought, a tiny bundle finally made its arrival into the family.
A tiny male bundle.
And thus was born Bardrin the Unlucky, as he came early enough to be known. His mother had been furious, as if he had chosen to be born this way, in a way she never would have been even if he'd been born, say, fifth or sixth. From the day of his birth every failing of his family was somehow his fault. Certainly his sisters contributed to this- driven partially by the snickers directed at the Seven Daughters of Rilynana.
Bardrin, for a runt, was terribly durable- which served him well during his early years. Whether this was another sign of unluckiness or some cosmic joke, he was never quite sure of. He learned more and more how to run and hide... strangely helped along by his lack of distinctive markings- though his mother's and sisters' wrath left plenty of distinguishing features upon his poor hide.
It's no wonder that one day, even as he was still small, he decided to take his chances in the wild rather than stay and let his family nibble him to slow-death. Somehow he made his way, up up from the dark places that his clan dwelled and into an unfamiliar shop...
Unfortunately he had no frame of reference when it came to glass covers, so when one fell and trapped him while he was trying to find something to eat, he was quite stuck...
Bardrin the Unlucky, still? Who knows...
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2009 11:30 am
Username: Neshaka
Applying for: M
Pet's name: Tiel
Prompt response: Tiel rolled his eyes. He could hear his sisters, sniggering and giggling behind him as he helped organise a recent haul from the surface. As elder daughters of a noble family, they were far above such things. As a younger son, however, he tried to make himself useful in the hope that he wouldn’t be cast out or traded off in the near future. He did his best to ignore them, but they didn’t make it easy. Today was a day where they were not going to make it easy. On another return trip, laden with crumbs of sausage and cheese, a carefully place strand of floss caught his feet, sending the food flying. He stared in dismay, knowing he would be in for dire punishment just for dropping it. He hoped that no-one had seen, but he couldn’t count on his luck. This particular food was intended for the dawn feast, where his parents were to entertain the queen, at her command. He scrabbled to pick it all up, and hurried to stow it away.
Tiel flattened his ears against his head. His sister pushed the cup of wine towards him with a smirk.
“Don’t keep the queen waiting!” She trilled at him. Nervously he looked around, but with no-one there to save him, he was forced into doing their bidding. Curling his tail up carefully, and watching his feet, he approaching the head of the long table, where she sat, eating the best food his house could offer. Slowly he went closer, eyes darting around, dreading getting to the table. Eventually he did, and as his foot stepped to the queen’s side, he felt a familiar feeling. Air beneath his paws. In slow-motion, the world tilted, wine arced from the jug, and the queen’s eyes narrowed in fury. Drenched, she commanded her guards to take him, and as they took him by the forepaws, he saw the look in his sibling’s eye, stood carefully behind her father.
A servant found him later, open wounds dripping on the floor, barely conscious. He was lucky. Neither of his scheming sisters were seen again, given up by some ignored commoner for a paltry reward. Though his parents would never take him back, his old nanny had taken him in and bound his wounds. His scars would stay with him forever, but he lived. At least he could thank his ancestors for that.
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