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 Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:29 pm
"Who is that?"
That was what they wondered, but dare they wonder aloud?
"An outsider."
That was what they thought, but dare they think aloud?
"What will become of him?"
That was what the children queried their parents.
"What becomes of all rule breakers."
That was what the parents knew, but merely shrugged their shoulders.
And then the stranger was gone.
Quote: Heart of Eden
Eden, land of prosperity and life, has lived so since the beginning of time. The laws are just,
and the people are content. Together, in community, they dwell in rhythym. Nobody is
hungry or thirsty. Nobody is without a home or a job. We are eternally at peace with
The rest of the poster was torn off, fluttering away in the wind. It joined the rest of the trash in the gutters; scum, lowlife, and beggars. The somber, overcast sky stirred angrily against the sun, strangeling it. A putrid smell rose into the air and hung stagnant, despite the teasing breeze. The heat was stiffling, and proved to only increase the potency of decay, inviting the rats out to play. Although, the cobblestone streets were far from empty. Men dressed as vagabonds scurried about, eyes darting about like the very rodents that thrived on the garbage strewn on the streets. Women bent like hags scuttled under the burden of crying babies on their backs in in their arms. A pack of mangy, flea-bitten dogs crowded the butcher's, where only maggots and undesirable scraps were produced. The tailor pieced together garments fit for a petty thief. Farmers begged dead soil to forgive the lack of rain. And the tall, stone wall blocked any traffic from leaving in pursuit of happiness.
How had Eden fallen into such a trench of poverty? It all began with the construction of the Divide, a twenty-foot high wall of stone that separated Eden from the outside. Contact was lost, and a decree was sent out by the Council that no citizen of Eden was to leave the city. Punishment was interrogation, which inevitably led to vanishing. Then, the Stranger appeared. He wore outlandish clothes and none of the townsfolk recognized him. He brought prophecies of doom that would befall upon the city. The Council soon silenced him. That was the day Eden began to decay. The rain ceased, the sun became forever masked by looming clouds, and hate was introduced.
In the night, in the semi-privacy of moldy apartments, gossip that the Stranger is still alive trickles through the town until everyone knows. Old superstitious men speculate that only by freeing the Stranger can Eden return to its previous utopian bliss. He was the one that prophecized doom. Perhaps he could prophecize life too.
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:43 pm
THE PEOPLE OF EDEN
The Stranger
A young man who showed up in Eden only serveral months back. He spread the word of decay and doom and, although he was first believed to be insane, since the decline of Eden, he is regarded as both a hero and a leader. He vanished a few weeks earlier, but rumor has it that he is alive but captive in the Council Building.
The Council
The citizens of Eden have never seen any Council members. They do not know what goes on inside the Council building. They know not who runs it or how many members there are. All they know is that the police and soldiers enforce decrees by the Council.
The Resistance
The group that is dedicated to bringing the Stranger back from the depths of the Council building. They meet in taverns mostly. There are multiple leaders, but they never meet altogether. Too large of a crowd draws too much attention. It is nearly impossible to catch a Resistance meeting accidentally. They observe and recruit people they feel would help the cause.
The Military
Ruthless, mindless hounds that follow any order given to them from the Council. They know not who is pulling the strings, but it doesn't matter. They have a drive to eliminate law-breakers and will stop at no cost to accomplish the task. Most of the time, the Military is able to act in secret, which is why their eliminations are known as "vanishing".
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:46 pm
RULES IN GENERAL
1. Follow Gaia ToS
2. PM me profiles as Pink Hippos
3. Read all beginning material
4. Read all posts or ask for summary from me
5. Interact with multiple characters
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:56 pm
ANEX DE GREAT'S RP RULES
1. This is a literate roleplay...
Which means that one-liners are unacceptable. No one expects a novel, but a decent paragraph is good. If you think that's a bad rule, go somewhere else to RP.
2. All main characters must be part of the Resistance...
This won't limit the experience: it will develop it. It will force us to interact with one another. I don't expect everyone to automatically be part of it, or even be loyal to it. Be a rat for all I care. But by belonging to one group, it will force interaction.
3. Although, if you want to control an officer for a while...
That's perfectly fine. I always control multiple characters. It allows for movement.
4. Variation is key...
If we have twenty characters who are all teenagers, it's unrealistic as well as predictable. Want to be an 80-year old hag? Sounds great. A middle-aged drunkard? Even better. A whiny 10-year old? You get the idea. I won't disallow any age, but if you wanted to try a funky, unattractive character, this is the place. It's more of an adventure/mystery than a romance.
5. May I play as multiple characters..?
That's an excellent question. Thanks for asking ^^ And you sure can. I like doing that a lot myself. It allows for another character to interact with that you're sure is at the same level as you. On that note, I don't approve of RPing with yourself. That's called writing a novel, and I'd direct you to a lovely program called Microsoft Word. But yes, in moderation, multiple characters is perfectly fine.
6. May I play as the opposite gender..?
Another great one. I'm always happy to clarify any rules I didn't bother to post. In my RPs, usually the most leighway is in the type of character you can be. My guideline for this one was "human", and that's as far as the guideline has been drawn. You can create any character you want, boy, girl, man, woman, Michael Jackson (well, maybe not...), it's fine with me.
7. How long has Eden been closed up from the outside world?
Dear Lord, this girl comes up with good questions! Sorry for the introduction being so vague. There is so much more to Eden than I typed, but I tried to only put the important stuff down. I have everything all in my head and all you need to do for a huge, unwanted explanation is ask dearies ^^ This answer has many different parts to it, so sit tight for a moment. The decree for construction of the wall went out approximately one year from when the RP starts. The actual construction of the wall was completed two months therein, and the enforcement of the "Wall Laws" (no coming or going) became rigid four more months in. The stranger showed up around the time of the extreme crackdown (around six months previous) and he vanished a week later. That marked the point of severe depression and funky weather patterns that have spelt doom for Eden. So, for around six months now, the town has been in utter ruin (it used to be a clean, bright, happy place--minus the fascist-like government).
7. You may now request buildings on the map as places of work and homes...
I will mark them with the number that I assign your character (see your accepted profile in the accepted profile section). I will take reasonable requests, and you can own multiple buildings since I have great quantities of everything. If the type of building you desire does not fit under any of the categories on the map, let me know and I'll map a new category for you.
8. Questions..?
Ask away. Over a PM, that is. I'll post the questions here and answer them. I hope this is as un-confusing as possible smile
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:59 pm
EDEN
~ Work District
~ Northwest District
~ Northeast District
~ Southwest District
~ Southeast District
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Posted: Sun Feb 17, 2008 8:34 pm
PROFILE SKELETON
Please send the complete profile to me AS IS. Do not screw around with the code. I Painstakingly bolded everything the number of times I did for a reason. Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Kinda... Not really, but trust me anyway sweatdrop Quote:
//These years under my belt//
(Any age, from 9-100)
//Towering at this height//
(Height in inches and feet)
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(Weight in US lbs.)
//Dashing good looks//
(Physical description)
//In the latest fashion//
(Clothing/typical wardrobe description)
//Everyone's best pal//
(Personality)
//Woe is my past//
(Brief history)
//Even I have flaws//
(Quirks, if any)
//But I make up for them//
(Specail skills, tools, and weapons)
//Controlled by//
(Username)
(Memorable quote that describes your character)
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Posted: Sun Feb 17, 2008 8:35 pm
ACCEPTED PROFILES1. (Lark "Hunter" M. Madin)
//These years under my belt//
(23)
//Towering at this height//
(5'10")
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(140 lbs.)
//Dashing good looks//
(A good hand taller than the average woman, Lark found herself commonly mistooken for a boy. This was despite long locks of red curls, full red lips, and the slender shoulders of a girl. The mistake was largely due to her garb. But after seeing the advantages to being mistaken as a male, Lark embraced the idea, cut her hair, and changed her name. She still has the same striking green eyes and ruby lips, but her longs locks are no more.)
//In the latest fashion//
(Lark used to dress in boys' clothing frequently; tunic, briches, belt, rough leather boots. Now she lives in it. She no longer has any gowns in her possession. To hide her ample chest, Lark binds it with a thick wrap, as well as a very tight undershirt.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(Lark is the silent observer, which is part of the reason the Resistance recruited her. Few things escape her intelligent, keen eye, and rare is the happenstance that she breaches protocol and leaks information. Her unyileding loyalty to the Resistance, although undoubtable, provides motives more than questionable. Lark's life, unlike the majority of Eden, did not decline when the Stranger vanished. She has no reason other than the desire to be a part of something, than to join the Resistance. Can it really be desperation for belonging?)
//Woe is my past//
(Lark knows life only as what her caretakers told her it to be: sad and full of misery. How right they seemed to be. She toiled out in the hot sun all day with the boys, plowing, planting, and harvesting some crop or another. Such was the life of an able-bodied boy with no family to speak of (or in this case, a really tall, strong girl). Field work and field work, day in and day out. It wasn't many years before she lost most traces of her femininity. After working the fields, Lark was released from her duty at the age of 18, wiser and stronger. She decided that life would be easier in the guise of a man, which is a charade she's been carrying on for five years now. She has lived life in the slums, doing heavy lifting for a nearby tavern. Within the past months, Lark received a note from a man in a long trench coat. It was her invitation into the Resistance, which she accepted. Now one of the selected to infiltrate the Council, Lark awaits orders.)
//Even I have flaws//
(Something that Lark can simply not handle is criticism of her hard work. That might stem from the harsh expectations of her youth field work. Regardless, when any of her hard work becomes scrutinzed, this easy-going, silent girl becomes uncontrollably enraged and possibly dangerous.)
//But I make up for them//
(Lark is especially handy with her hands. She can fix anything, even build simple machines to help her do jobs. She understands the laws of the world really well and applies them to everything she does. Lark also is very observant. Tedious labor has taught her inhuman patience, and sitting for hours and hours listening to the garbage of the tavern-goers provides no challenge to Lark.)
//Controlled by//
(Anex de Great)
(It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.) 2. (Jack Chambers)
//These years under my belt//
(29)
//Towering at this height//
(6'2)
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(210)
//Dashing good looks//
(Jack has shaggy raven colored hair- a deep black with a blue tint- that falls just bellow his ears and is often in his face, covering his light amber eyes. There are bruised-looking dark bags bellow his eyes and his lips are set in a permanent frown, giving Jack the apearence of an older, tired man. He is blind in his left eye, which has a milky white film above it. The ghost of his old wound, an inch-long white scar, runs bellow it, along with various other small scars that mark his body.. He has large, rough hands with fingernails bit down to the quick, and is quite broad, with compact muscles. )
//In the latest fashion//
(Jack would never be caught dead in a suit and a tie, not that he could afford one anyway. He is a man of comfort, and above that, cheapness. He wears loose-fitting clothes, all of which have seen better days. His wardrobe consists of blacks, grays, and off-whites. The one piece of clothing that he actualy cares about and attempts to take care of is his large black jacket, which is pockmarked with various tears and stitches. He says nothing of it accept that it is "lucky.")
//Everyone's best pal//
(Jack would never be called charming, polite or chivalric. He isn't the guy you would call first if you needed a friend. That may be due in part to his having no friends, but in the end its his blatant lack of people-skills. He cares for himself and rarely others, he'll watch his back but never yours. He has a sense of humor, but it is usually masked by his temper. It is often wondered why Jack joined the Resistance, but no one dares to question him, and they put up with him because he is an invaluable asset to them.
//Woe is my past//
(Jack lives alone in a shabby apartment located in the heart of the slums. He chose that particular living space because of its neighboring tavern that he visits at least once a day. It is well known that sometime in the past, even before Eden's decline, Jack became an alcoholic, though he would never admit it. Some rumor it to be the result of a lost love, others say he is just crazy and just looking for a way to hide it. Despite his hearty thirst for intoxication, the budding Resistance took notice of him and sent a letter his way. He was among the first to join.)
//Even I have flaws//
( If you looked up "crazy drunk" in the dictionary, you just might find an unsmiling picture of Jack. He has a very short temper and is distant from human contact. He is known to be headstrong and sarcastic. )
//But I make up for them//
(Yes, there is some usefulness somewhere behind those clouded eyes. Jack is intelligent, a great marksman if he isnt too wasted, and has a knack for getting out of sticky situations that is almost magical. He remembers almost everything he hears, and though you wouldn't guess it, he actually takes advice given to him, even if it is with a rude comment thrown back.)
//Controlled by//
(EndOfDawn)
(I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.)
3. (Micha Quicksilver)
//These years under my belt//
(21)
//Towering at this height//
(5'9'')
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(15 cool
//Dashing good looks//
(Fine boned and small statured, Micha's delicate looking frame belies and exterior of tempered steel and agility. Many times in the past Micha had been mistaken for a female though he couldn't for the life of him see why. So what if his skin was fairer and clearer than even most women? His spun gold hair is more often than not done in cornrows or simply tied in a pony tail, long bangs covering his two colored eyes- one hazel brown, the other sea green)
//In the latest fashion//
(He hates layers and restrictions and is usually seen donning a tank top over pants and his black soldier's coat, which more often than not is tied around his waist)
//Everyone's best pal//
(Many people believe that Micha's two colored eyes are a reflection of his fractured personality. At best he's a step from manic and at worst he's two feet away from morbid. It depends on the time of the day and the weather but people generally have learned to approach him nevertheless with a little caution because they never know which side may be reigning at any time)
//Woe is my past//
(His father was a bookseller who simply 'disappeared' one night and that cataclysmic event brought upon the premature birth of Micha- to the cost of his mother's life. Micha was raised as a ward of the state, a faceless number in the book, and imbibed the two extremes of the society- the best and worst parts of Eden. For the first years of his life he had no name; wards of the state weren't supposed to. He christened himself Micha in remembrance of a childhood friend, a fellow orphan who didn't make it past Ten, and Quicksilver was just attached to him by others partly because of his rapid mood swings and partly because of his speed.)
//Even I have flaws//
(Perhaps because of his severely repressed childhood, Micha has only now begun to 'discover' many things about life. He has no sense of others' personal spaces or personal properties...and doesn't understand why people make so much fuss about guarding what's on their plates. He asks questions all the time and has been known to strike up debates with intended victims, usually up until the point they die. Despite his own obvious high strung emotional swings, Micha himself is unable to recognize or understand the same in others)
//But I make up for them//
(A very talented swordsman, Micha's hair trigger reflexes make him almost impossible to pin down and hit, and has been reported to come out of fights virtually unscathed. He's also famous for turning anything within reach into a deadly projectile because of the force behind his throw.)
//Controlled by//
(Anabel Sinclair)
(Out of the Night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole)
4. (Corliss Serafina Sloane)
//These years under my belt//
(17)
//Towering at this height//
(5'5")
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(126 lbs)
//Dashing good looks//
(A pretty average girl to say the least. She’s a small, petite girl, who still looks quite a bit like a child. Corliss is pretty tan, due to both her genes and her time out in the sun. She has dark brown, slightly wavy hair, that she used to always wear down to her waist, but has recently cut it to her chin, so it frames her face nicely, complete with bangs. She also has chocolate brown eyes that will often be open wide, giving her an eternally surprised look.)
//In the latest fashion//
(Corliss likes pretty much any type of clothing, and actually has a hidden weakness for pretty dresses. But normally she just wears extremely casual, loose clothing for comfort's sake.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(She fits her name well: "cheerful/goodhearted, burning/ardent, and warrior." A bit of a dual personality...sometimes she is a sweet, loving, thoughtful girl, and other times she is an obnoxious, loud kid. It seems she never really made it past age 12 mentally. A bit freaky to tell the truth. Bad things just seem to roll off her when she's not experiencing them, which can make her seem insensitive. She always seems to make a joke about everything, and her really serious, thoughtful side is locked away from the world. A tiny bit of a blonde, but don't let that fool you...she's got some brains under that silly girl exterior. She also has a strong sense of justice and is enraged beyond measure when anyone's rights are violated. )
//Woe is my past//
(Corliss grew up with constant anger and yet unabounding love. Her family constantly bickered with each other, and yet found plenty of time to shower the kids with love. She has one sibling who is close enough (younger by one year) that they are close as twins. Most of the time she spent outside, playing games with her brother, or just sitting alone thinking. Eventually Corliss received an invitation for reasons unknown, but she took the opportunity to "try and fix the world," as she put it. Yes, she does have some issues with trying to be Superman. At any rate, she left her family without any explanation...she couldn't really think of a good one. )
//Even I have flaws//
(Physically, Corliss's least favorite features are her long nose that is only really noticed when she's standing absolutely still and being viewed from the side. There's also her chin, which, strange for a girl, has a sizable dimple in it. Personality-wise, Corliss can be conceited, self-righteous, idealistic, and perfectionistic.)
//But I make up for them//
(Corliss is pretty skillful with a bow and arrow, but also keeps a dagger by her side just in case, though she's a bit clumsy with that weapon. She also has good eyes, though her ears and nose may be lacking.)
//Controlled by//
(AlisynLuffsJapan)
("Yes, the world isn't fair. But it can't help that. Now us, we can try and make things as fair as possible. So don't you give me that crap again.")
5. (Terrence Fulton Baker)
//These years under my belt//
(12)
//Towering at this height//
(4’9”)
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(90 lbs)
//Dashing good looks//
(Terrence still carries the chubby cheeks and slightly pudgy belly of prepubescent baby fat. His long, unkempt blond hair is often dingy and tied back from his pale gray eyes. His features are mostly indistinguishable except for a missing pinky finger on his left hand.)
//In the latest fashion//
(Terrence likes to wear large shirts he can grow into rather than have to worry about replacing them often. He has less luck with pants and his few pairs rise above his ankles. A length of rope keeps his oversized shirts from flapping around and getting in his way. As often as not, Terrence goes barefoot, protecting his feet only with strips of cloth bound around them or nothing at all.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(Terrence is the perpetual ‘baby of the family’. He is young both in age and attitude. Often cheerful and energetic, even downright playful, this boy is rarely in a foul mood. Close observers will note that he is much more quiet and pensive when alone, but he prefers not to be alone to begin with.)
//Woe is my past//
(Terrence Baker, baker’s son, has very little claim to real hardship. He lived well, ate well and laughed often with his parents and siblings; one brother and one sister. As second eldest child and eldest son, he spent most of his days working side by side with his father, baking and swiping treats. But with the drought it was not long before his family was scrounging for enough grain to feed their own; business slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Terrence and his siblings resorted to begging, running errands and occasionally even stealing. The last of which caused Terrence to be caught by the Resistance. Amidst a copious amount of pleading and blubbering, Terrence managed to at least convince his captors he was good for the kitchen if nothing else. Having no other relevant skills, he is eager to learn anything; fear of the Resistance easily gave way to fascination with it.)
//Even I have flaws//
(Terrence is still in many ways a needy child. He constantly seeks attention, confirmation and companionship from other members of the Resistance. He hates to be alone and will fall into a depression if no one else is around him.)
//But I make up for them//
(His only real skill is in the kitchen, but he is also a willing snoop. He is small and quiet when needed. He owns a knife now, but is only barely more dangerous to an attacker than he is to himself.)
//Controlled by//
(Tameka)
(If life hands you lemons, meringue pie is way nicer than lemonade.)
(6. Willhelm Vis Veneratio)
//These years under my belt//
(36)
//Towering at this height//
(6'4")
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(200lbs)
//Dashing good looks//
(Willhelm is a tall muscular man whose age, unfortunately, is catching up on him. His long black hair is streaked with the occassional grey hair, as is his beard. However, his grey eyes allow people to see his true nature, clear and very much alive, untouched by the age that has specked his hair with grey and begun to line his face. They display an experience that can only be earned through a life filled with death.)
//In the latest fashion//
(He wears a long brown coat and a matching broad-brimmed hat with a high crown. Beneath this he wears a lose light white shirt, torn black jeans and brown leather riding boots. Finally he wears a black leather gun belt in which he carries two revolvers, the tools of his (previous) trade.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(He seems gruff and unkind, but this is just because he feels he doesn’t deserve friendship, kindness or love due to his blood stained past. He keeps people at arms length as he feels death follows him wherever he goes. In truth he is caring and will always put the needs of others before his own. He is easily angered and will fight to the finish. )
//Woe is my past//
(Born in Rome, his life has been frought with hardship from the beginning. When he was five his father was shot dead defending the family's farm. His mother fled to the border with him where they remained until he was thirteen.
Shortly after his thirteenth birthday his mother died of a stroke. He made his way slowly back to Rome where he joined the army, passing himself off as sixteen.
After five years in the army he retired to begin working as a mercenary. He quickly established himself as the best in the business, honing his skills to a fine art and earning enough money to buy some land of his own.
When he turned twenty-one he fell in love with a local girl, named Bianca, and became somewhat more settled, remaining in his line of work but only accepting contracts that allowed him to remain in Italy. All the while his reputation grew and he eventually became known as Willhelm Vis(Power) Veneratio(Honor).
Unfortunately this new found fame would lead to more heartache for Willhelm. At thirty a man came to the Romano farm looking for a place to stay. The man was a local hitman who wanted to boost his reputation by being the man who killed Willhelm Vis Veneratio. At night he crept into the couple's room and shot at the figures lying in the bed. He shot Bianca first allowing Willhelm the chance to kill the man where he stood.
Willhelm, heartbroken, could no longer live on his farm and began taking jobs all over the continent just to keep himself occupied. Recently he was sent on a mission to a small village in the south of Italy. During a gun fight with some local thugs a priest was shot down. Willhelm used his limited first aid knowledge to try and help the priest. The two sat talking for hours and the priest handed Willhelm a bible before closing his eyes and dieing.
Knowing he will be punished for his sins when the time is right, he has dedicated the remainder of his life to atoning for his evil deeds.
Upon hearing of the city called Eden he felt this must be the place God wanted him to go, as such he has been living there for just over a year now. He joined the Resistance as he believes his mission to recieve forgiveness for his sins must be to help return Eden to it's former glory)
//Even I have flaws//
(Willhelm is quick tempered and struggles to make friends, although he is kindhearted his lifestyle never allowed him chances to develop social skills. He is difficult to communicate with and very stubborn.)
//But I make up for them//
(Due to his years spent as a soldier of fortune he has acquired remarkable skill in the use of fire arms, melee weapons and unarmed combat. He is a natural leader of men but his years in the army have thought him the importance of following orders, all this making him an incredible soldier and a dangerous adversary.)
//Controlled by//
(Willhelm Vis Veneratio.)
(Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
) (7. Marco-Lee Boretti)
//These years under my belt//
(49)
//Towering at this height//
(6'2")
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(210lbs)
//Dashing good looks//
(One reason that Marco-Lee has been so successful in the Resistance it the fact that his face is so forgettable. There are no distinctive features of his face; everything is proportional, but not entirely attractive. His eyes, although bright and intelligent, are an unremarkable shade of brown and his hair is matching with strands of gray. He is pretty average height and build, being not too muscular, gaunt, or fat. The only distinctive thing about his entire appearance is the frequent drip of yellow pus coming from his eyes.)
//In the latest fashion//
(He usually dons an off-white, patchy dress shirt, a pair of worn leather boots, a dusty brimmed-hat, and a pair of baggy cotton trousers. Occassionally, he'll be wearing a pair of makeshift glasses (he made them himself using cheap, clear beer bottles), but that's only when he absolutely needs to read something. In colder weather, Marco-Lee has a trench-coat he'll wear.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(At best, Marco-Lee is reasonable and intellectual. At worst, he's narcissistic, unempathetic, intimidating, and devious. He measures not the value of a man's life but the value of his attributes and the loss of a number. He makes an excellent leader for a group that deals frequently with brutal death and suicide missions. He is able to remain collected under even the poorest of conditions. It's the little things that irritate him, such as a person he considers of less value than himself questioning his ideas or motives.)
//Woe is my past//
(Marco-Lee reckons that he is the only man still alive that remembers the old public library. As a child, and through his young adult life, he would spend hours upon hours pouring over the vast collection. His family was quite rich. Not enough so to own their own library collection, but enough to live on the outskirts of the crowded city in a house. Marco-Lee remembers having a room (his own room) in which he could do as he pleased with his time, be it disecting animals to learn organs' functions or producing homemade chemical reactions. He is a mind that seeks solitude and knowledge, and those are his only two aspirations. The Council has thusly impeded his enjoyment by confiscating the library from the public a decade previously. It seemed all of life was joyless and wasteful now that he could not have his books. One day, he was sat down by someone and together, they two collaborated and formed a group dedicated to over-throwing the Council.
//Even I have flaws//
(Marco-Lee is a horrible people-person. Although, he does not view that as a flaw since he hates most people anyways. Even his wife, he finds horribly dull and obnoxious. He'd much rather curl up on the floor and read the paper than lie in bed with her. He also places no value on life but his own. People are numbers in his head. If the numbers don't add up, a person is worthless. For this reason, he is rather unpopular as a man, but is respected nonetheless as a leader.)
//But I make up for them//
(Marco-Lee is a great tactician and planner. Not one for physical labor, he is content to sit and devise plots rather than lunge into action. He is one of the greatest chess players in Eden (he won the championship at the age of ten) and can relate anything to chess.
//Controlled by//
(Anex de Great)
(We cannot resist the fascination of sacrifice, since a passion for sacrifices is part of a Chessplayer's nature) (8. Shannon Elaine McKormic)
//These years under my belt//
(18 )
//Towering at this height//
(5”9)
//Earth-shaking at this weight//
(100lbs)
//Dashing good looks//
( Under ideal circumstances, Shannon would be a formidable beauty. She has a naturally slender frame, moon pale, smooth skin, and the promise of delicate curves. Her long wavy hair has a copper hue that somehow manages to look like metal and hair at the same time. She has a heart-shaped face, complete with high cheekbones, and a small but full Victorian mouth that looks like it should smile easily. Her nose is small and delicately shaped, with a pertly turned up tip, and large crystal blue eyes that are thickly surrounded by long, dark red lashes.
Unfortunately, Shannon’s circumstances are anything but ideal. She hasn’t had enough to eat in a very long time, months, and as a result her naturally slender body is almost emaciated, with no curves to speak of. Her smudged face is all overlarge eyes and over-sharp cheekbones, her mouth a grim slash, and the dark circles under her sullen eyes make her look ill, almost haunted. Her potentially glorious hair is lank, usually uncombed, and almost always tied back from her face in a practical knot. To sum up, she doesn’t exactly cut an attractive figure, rather a painfully pathetic one. )
//In the latest fashion//
(Shannon wears what she can scrounge, mixed in with whatever hand-me-downs she can get from people in the resistance. This means that most of what she wears is too large for her, and all of it is in a state of sad disrepair.)
//Everyone's best pal//
(Shannon was forced to grow up fast, and consequently has little patience for things she considers trivial. She is ridiculously good at putting on the irresistible charm, is used to doing so, and is consequently also used to getting her own way. Her glass half-empty, blackly good-humored way of looking at the world often rub people the wrong way, but that’s the way she prefers things, anyway; She learned a long time ago that trusting people doesn’t pay, period, so as friendly as she can be on the surface, she makes a point of not forming friendships, even within the Resistance. She has the ability to be endlessly patient, and loves to out-strategize and out-maneuver opponents.)
//Woe is my past//
(Shannon moved to Eden when she was only six years old; as such, she remembered little to nothing about the outside world. She grew up in absolute paradise with two loving parents, and knew nothing but perfect happiness; sure, perfect happiness had the tendency to spoil a girl, and it could get a little boring, but Shannon found ways to liven it up.
There were several factors that might have contributed to her drastic and severely traumatizing change in fortune. For better or for worse, her parents often became homesick, and took regular trips to the outside world; more importantly, they refused to take their daughter with them, supposedly trying to keep her free from it’s unnecessarily corrupting influence. Shannon was understandably curious about the it, and not a little resentful of her parents for keeping it all to themselves. One time, a few months after Shannon’s fourteenth birthday, they simply didn’t come back. She was told that they were killed in a car accident just outside San Francisco, but she couldn’t quite get rid of the irrational suspicion that they’d just decided to stay in the much more interesting outside world for good.
Worse, she became a ward of the state, and was suddenly utterly unimportant, with no one who even pretended to care what she wanted or even thought. She wasn’t even allowed to have her own name! Furious and still hurting, she ran away after six months, and for a long while, she was relatively happy again. Being homeless in Eden was about to as close to complete freedom as one could get; the weather was perfect, so she could sleep outside under the stars.
Then something changed. She felt it before she could pin it down in any tangible fashion, just a sense of growing wrong. When she was sixteen, she stopped sleeping out in the open. People were nervous, edgy, and she just didn’t feel safe; that was the first time she could remember being afraid for her safety, and about six months later, the plans for the wall were announced. She almost left at that point, but it was Eden, after all. How bad could it possibly get?
As of now, living on the streets has obviously become much, much more difficult, and getting out is no longer an option; all she has left are the clothes on her back and world that has utterly betrayed her. Yes, she knows that’s clichéd, and it doesn’t make her any happier, or the statement any less true. She hasn’t had a decent meal about eight months, and has completed her transformation from a mischievous, optimistic child to a cynical thief and con-artist. She doesn’t even really believe that the resistance will actually accomplish anything, but she might as well help out. It isn’t as though she has anything better to do.)
//Even I have flaws//
(She is ridiculously pessimistic. She isn’t truly interested in taking care of anyone but herself, and will sacrifice the interests of others without a second thought. She is manipulative and selfish, and doesn’t take orders well if she takes them at all. Due to severe malnourishment, she’s next to useless in combat at the moment. )
//But I make up for them//
( She has being charming down to a perfected art form, and could probably lie without setting off a polygraph machine. She is an excellent strategist, and has the ability to be endlessly patient if necessary. She is literally spectacular at gymnastics, stealth, and unarmed combat, with hair trigger reflexes and excellent coordination, at least in theory; lack of proper nourishment doesn’t exactly facilitate the growth of the muscles she needs to actually pull those things off. )
//Controlled by//
Elesariin)
I suppose we might as well not starve to death; that would be too simple. Viva la resistance!
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Posted: Sun Feb 17, 2008 8:37 pm
ANNOUNCEMENTS
1. The RP is open! Woohoo!
2. There has been an RP rule added, regarding the map and houses. See Rule 7.
3. A Resistance meeting is taking place: all characters with accepted profiles, make your way over there, Savvy? wink
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Posted: Thu Feb 21, 2008 3:46 pm
wahmbulance RESERVED wahmbulance
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Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 6:23 pm
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Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 9:35 pm
Terrence stood quietly in an alley beside a tavern. He rarely went inside with any of the others; he would draw more attention than was wise. So instead the boy waited patiently and kept his eyes and ears open. He was not likely to learn anything of use this way, but one never knew when just being conveniently placed could be an asset. Still, he wished the others would come out already. It was so quiet out in the alley. Terrence kicked a small rock then rocked back and forth on his feet, filling his chubby cheeks with air and looking bored. Then he exhales the breath in a sigh and leans his shoulder against the building. He tried not to mope, he really did, but it was taking so long. Maybe he should have stayed behind this time. He could have at least kept busy trying to make something in the kitchen edible.
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Posted: Sat Feb 23, 2008 9:29 am
Letting out a small yawn of exhaustion, Lark hauled that last of the beer kegs into its proper place in the basement. She had just finished neatly arranging three dozen kegs of McElroy's finest (some putrid, homemade brew that was easily exchangeable with urine) in the dark, dank basement of Mr. Dugood's tavern. Tavern was pushing it. More like rathole. But Lark didn't complain. There were few taverns left in Eden that could get actual beer, nevermind how utterly disgusting it was. Scratching the back of her head absently, she made her way back up the creaky steps of the basement, her eyes getting hit with the same inescapable, dull gray light that was now Eden's identity. The slate-gray sky allowed only the most depressing color of light to hit the town, and it seemed to make everyone cranky all the time.
For example, upon returning to her post behind the bar, Mr. Dugood stormed in, looking pissed off for no reason. Lark followed his path with her eyes, growing apprehensive as he steered towards her. "Something wrong, sir?" she asked the fat, middle-aged man.
"Something wrong? Why yes, Hunter, there is something wrong!" he shot back, his thinning comb-over flopping across his head like a dead animal. "I specifically told you to put the stuff from McElroy's in my private cellar!"
Lark thought back. She didn't recall him saying anything of the sort. And she had such a good memory, that for such a command to escape her seemed impossible. "I assure you, sir, had you said something of the sort, I would have made it so. But you didn't , and so I assumed you wanted them in the tavern basement. That's where you usually tell me to put it."
"I'm sure I said my private cellar! You're just too lazy to walk the extra couple yards!" he accused, jabbing a finger at her.
"Lazy?" Lark ruffled against the label, her eyes flashing dangerously. Mr. Dugood flinched back against his own volition, unable to say anything. "Sir, the day I'm lazy, you can go ahead and shoot me. But that day won't ever come, because I am never lazy." The word 'never' had such a threatening tone that Mr. Dugood found himself inching even further away. He only knew his employee as good-natured and kind of a pushover. Where had this rage come from?
"And if you ever dare to accuse me of that again, I'll... I'll..." take pleasure in beating you to a bloody, fatty pulp. But generally, you're not allowed to say that to your employer. So Lark let the unspoken threat hang a moment, before grabbing the bar rag from under the counter and wiping it down vigorously. "If you want me to move them, just say so," Lark added, almost dared.
Mr. Dugood watched for a moment in stunned silence, then spluttered, "N-no, that's quite alright. I was just thinking that the tavern basement would do more for the taste than my private cellar. So, so... good idea." He nodded once, nervously, before waddling away to his office to escape the tension.
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Posted: Sat Feb 23, 2008 5:52 pm
Corliss walked out of the tavern. She never could stay in there for long...couldn't stand the smell. Or the drinks. Or anything.
She heard a few noises nearby and peeked curiously around a corner. What she saw made her smile.
"Boo!" she grinned to Terrence. Terrence was probably her favorite fellow resistance member...when she was feeling motherly, there he was. When she was feeling like a kid, he was a good companion that wouldn't look down on her for not acting her age.
Corliss stepped from behind the corner and stood next to the boy. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked in a singsong voice.
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Posted: Sat Feb 23, 2008 9:24 pm
Releasing a held breath, Lark looked up from the diversion she had provided herself with. Work always calmed her down, no matter how furious she became. And there was always something to be done. Oh, how she loved the constants in life.
A tall man in a rusty-colored trench coat and large, brimmed hat strode into the room, instantly drawing eyes. He made his way to the bar, ignoring the stares he was receiving, and leaned against the dirty, scratched counter. His breath was short, as thought he'd just run a long way and his hands were shaking slightly as he grasped the counter. Lark hovered over him, wiping a glass down. "What can I get you?" she asked suspiciously, putting the smudged glass down to punctuate her words.
His head tilted up slightly, enough so that Lark could see his widened, fearful baby-blues. The kind of eyes that, back when Eden was a happy place to live in, girls would die for. Now they were just as worthless as everything else in the town. "Get me whatever is the worst ya got," he said firmly, despite the shudder in his tone. "I don't got much money on me."
Which translated into: The worst thing possible has happened. A mole has been discovered, and I don't have much time.
Lark's own eyes widened and her heart rate increased to that of a petrified rabbit. Forcing herself to blink, she replied, "Uh, wh-why don't we go into the cellar and have a look see? I'm sure there's something that your money can buy." Please say yes, please say yes...
Let's go to a safehouse and lay low for a while.
"No," he answered, hanging his head. She spied a tear run down the length of his nose and drip onto the table. She knew exactly what he was going to say next, even before he had said it. "In fact, I best be goin'. My wife is wonderin' where I up and off to. Thank ya, though. And..." he looked around carefully, his heavenly baby-blues bloodshot with anxiety and tears. Deciding that, to some measure, it was safe, with his remorseful, scared-shitless eyes meeting hers, he finished in an ominous tone, "... goodbye."
That won't do any good. They know who I am. All information I have must be deleted, and the Resistance has offered the most humane solution.
And, as quickly as he had entered the bar, he had left. Lark watched the tails of his coat flap out the exit before falling backwards onto her rear. It had taken every ounce of strength she had to grip the counter and not fall over during the conversation. It had taken all of her willpower to not shed a tear. But now, it was impossible to stop the sheer emotion. Melancholy running rampant, Lark's vision grew blurry as tears clogged her emerald eyes. She felt her whole frame shaking as an unstoppable sob wracked her.
But it was inexcusable. She had to stop crying. She had to stand up. If anyone saw her behind the counter, questions would be asked. Blinking a couple times and squinting, Lark tried to force the remainder of the tears out. Successfully having done so, she wiped her puffy face on her stained apron before standing, ready to face the curious faces of the other patrons. Regardless of how she was composed on the outside, her emotions were still churning inside and her whole consciousness was screaming in agony. And yet, she remained stoic and calm. Her best friend's death would not be for nothing.
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Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2008 10:54 am
The cracked bulb above the table was brighter then the light filtering in through the dusty window, but that didn't mean it was morning or twilight. The concrete sky gave away no secrets as it blocked out the sun, shadowing the crops but unable to keep away the heat that sent a trickle of sweat or tears down the faces of the residents it floated idly over.
"The beer is warm," Jack muttered as he peeled his face off of the stained table that he had fallen asleep on long enough to sniff and prod the half-empty bottle. He let his head drop but attempted to bring the brown bottle to his mouth anyway. Stale beer splashed across his lips, hardly making it into his mouth. He threw the bottle and cursed, spilling words that were as foul as the alcohol that dripped down his chin.
Jack attempted to right himself once more, swaying slightly and placing his hands on the table for support. He stumbled over to the sink, fumbling for the knobs through glazed eyes. He grasped it, turning on the water. The faucet spluttered and something resembling mud oozed out. Jack waited a moment for the good water- however dark and filled with particles that may be- to trickle out before cupping his hands to collect it and splash it a few times across his face.He walked over to his couch, still dripping, and pulled his coat from it, throwing it on before marching out the door.
Jack never looked up, it was best that way. Only when he had wandered into the tavern, breathing in the stale but welcoming air as he made his way to the counter, did he lift his eyes to look around. People scurried out of his way as he slid onto a stool at the bar.
Jack was about to bark out a simple order of "something that will kill me faster" when his good eye settled on the man across the counter. He had bright red hair with a subtle face. When he looked over, Jack saw his startling green eyes rimmed with red, whispering of having shed a tear or so.
"Prayin' wont help ya, boy, and cryin' won't do ya no good," he said over the counter with a roll of his eyes, just loud enough for him to hear.
Jack had recognized the man as Hunter Madin, a member of the Resistance. He could only imagine what was wrong. He scowled, and with a dismissing wave of the hand, finally grumbled out his order.
"Now, why don't you just run off and get me a damn drink."
Jack pushed the dark hair from his face, trailing his fingers across the scar that pained him even now. His amber eyes looked away from Hunter, resting on the counter where he had sat at almost everyday for a year.
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