Post by evalaina on Apr 27, 2008 3:06:33 GMT -5
Name: Natalie S
Age: 15
Experience: 4 years
How you found us: Certamen nox
Role play Sample:( a post from a previous medieval fantasy roleplay)
Under the bloodstained night sky, a woman stood farewelling her comrades.
These mages had died from injuries sustained from the battle, and had died like the fourteen others she had tried valiantly to heal. There were no more of her companions to be healed, though, for these were the last three left: Rowan, Gregory and Elisabeth. Of them, Rowan had been her brother.
Feline eyes red rimmed with insatiable grief, she rolled up her sleeve to bare the forbidden marque to the world. A twisting, breathtaking design of roses, briars and stars that twisted up from her wrist to end twined around the full moon at her shoulder- perfect in lifelike clarity. Facing the bodies for the pyre, she raised both arms, -one sleeved in coarse brown cloth, the other sleeved in glowing illustration- and gestured solemnly.
As the bodies burned the azure blue of spellfyre, she grieved, but tears could not run. She would not be able to cry until she had healed the civilians that had been injured in a war that did not concern them. Her heart would not be in the healing anymore, though; death had lain its icy hands on her one too many times.
Five hours later, with the rising of the scarlet sun, Evalaina D'Mithran raised fatigue-shadowed eyes. It was time to disappear from under the sun, where the solar mages may draw their power and find her –anyone associating with her would be put to death if she was seen. Following an underground escape route, she emerged into the sunlight, forsaking her cover of darkness.
She stood at about six feet tall, towering above most people in slim elven grace. Even now with shoulders stooped with fatigue and grief, she stood and commanded respect with the hint of unimaginable power hidden deep within. Raven hair spilt down to her knees in ringlets, and a deep black dress covered her from ankle to wrist to neck. A face that could only be elven with skin that was snow white, verging on morbid grey and slanted, feline eyes the silver of the gleaming full moon stared tiredly ahead.
As she walked down the bank to wash her hands of the ash, blood and herbs that she had worked with through the night, she noticed the girl, just above the reaches of the water. Within a moment of indecision and weighing risks of the girl's allegiance, she sprinted cat-like down the sandy stretch to reach the half-dead figure. It was a risk she had to take, she surmised as she laid her hands on the charred and blackened wound that threatened the girl's life, because she had seen too much death this day.
Using up a reserve of strength she kept for moments like this, she drew out a strand of her power and nourished the ebbing life force while she mended bone, muscle and flesh, leaving the clean pink glow of new skin over the places where there was once nothing but charred flesh. Taking a stumbling step back, she reached for a flask of restorative and drank deeply, leaning on a tree, and waited to see if her efforts were in vain.
He said: WHISPER IS AMAZING! (kidding...)
Age: 15
Experience: 4 years
How you found us: Certamen nox
Role play Sample:( a post from a previous medieval fantasy roleplay)
Under the bloodstained night sky, a woman stood farewelling her comrades.
These mages had died from injuries sustained from the battle, and had died like the fourteen others she had tried valiantly to heal. There were no more of her companions to be healed, though, for these were the last three left: Rowan, Gregory and Elisabeth. Of them, Rowan had been her brother.
Feline eyes red rimmed with insatiable grief, she rolled up her sleeve to bare the forbidden marque to the world. A twisting, breathtaking design of roses, briars and stars that twisted up from her wrist to end twined around the full moon at her shoulder- perfect in lifelike clarity. Facing the bodies for the pyre, she raised both arms, -one sleeved in coarse brown cloth, the other sleeved in glowing illustration- and gestured solemnly.
As the bodies burned the azure blue of spellfyre, she grieved, but tears could not run. She would not be able to cry until she had healed the civilians that had been injured in a war that did not concern them. Her heart would not be in the healing anymore, though; death had lain its icy hands on her one too many times.
Five hours later, with the rising of the scarlet sun, Evalaina D'Mithran raised fatigue-shadowed eyes. It was time to disappear from under the sun, where the solar mages may draw their power and find her –anyone associating with her would be put to death if she was seen. Following an underground escape route, she emerged into the sunlight, forsaking her cover of darkness.
She stood at about six feet tall, towering above most people in slim elven grace. Even now with shoulders stooped with fatigue and grief, she stood and commanded respect with the hint of unimaginable power hidden deep within. Raven hair spilt down to her knees in ringlets, and a deep black dress covered her from ankle to wrist to neck. A face that could only be elven with skin that was snow white, verging on morbid grey and slanted, feline eyes the silver of the gleaming full moon stared tiredly ahead.
As she walked down the bank to wash her hands of the ash, blood and herbs that she had worked with through the night, she noticed the girl, just above the reaches of the water. Within a moment of indecision and weighing risks of the girl's allegiance, she sprinted cat-like down the sandy stretch to reach the half-dead figure. It was a risk she had to take, she surmised as she laid her hands on the charred and blackened wound that threatened the girl's life, because she had seen too much death this day.
Using up a reserve of strength she kept for moments like this, she drew out a strand of her power and nourished the ebbing life force while she mended bone, muscle and flesh, leaving the clean pink glow of new skin over the places where there was once nothing but charred flesh. Taking a stumbling step back, she reached for a flask of restorative and drank deeply, leaning on a tree, and waited to see if her efforts were in vain.
He said: WHISPER IS AMAZING! (kidding...)
