Post by Lucky on May 18, 2008 13:48:58 GMT -5
Name:Lucky
Age: Sixteen
Experience: Only about a year actually. Hmmm… Less than that really... Let’s say… ten months?
How you found us: Neopets!
Role play Sample:
Empty cobbled streets wound endlessly on into the shadowed darkness. The stars hanging low in the dark sky cast the only light on the lonely lanes. As fleeting wisps of cloud pushed by some heavenly wind which never graced limited beings below covered the bright pin pricks of light, the shadows seemed to gain the upper hand on the weak starlight. In the ensuing darkness small noises were barely audible. Faint rustles of movement were audible in the near deathly quiet of the night. A small rodent could be heard skittering about in a chink in the stone walls. A night bird hooted sorrowfully, and, most surprisingly, the almost inaudible sound of someone breathing who was used to trying not to be heard broke the silence. Suddenly the scraps of cloud were thrust aside by a gust of cosmic wind, allowing the pale illumination to fall on a young woman, her pale hair standing out brighter than the stars. The gust had been preceded by a similar swell in the streets, swiping the brown hood off of the pale head.
The cool night air felt good against the small bits skin left exposed by the girl wandering the alleyways. Most of her slight frame was obscured by a large cloak of an indeterminate brown color. The flaps billowed around her, periodically showing the tattered clothing held together with natural twine, hidden underneath. Her face shone aler than her hair, and before she snatched her hood up to cover her countenance the strange ray of heavenly light landed strangely on her open face, her grey eyes shining out of the shadow. She walked alone through the winding streets of Matedora, her mind far away.
Olivia’s footsteps sounded loud to her trained ears. She walked alone at night, as she did many days after her classes were over. Her gift was strangely powerful, and so her courses had been changed from the average curriculum of a new student. While most of the other young healers could mix wonderful potions, create cures, fix small scrapes, and hold their hands unbelievably steady, she was, and had always been, different. The strange gift she presented with had been a surprise for her teachers and the other young people learning their trades. Where they were confined to small works, she could heal almost anything. Coupled with the fact that when a being was in pain near her she felt their sensation in her core this talent had set her away from the rest.
The wind rustled her cloak again, blowing it up and away form her, streaming in the strange wind that had come up. The pale golden hair fanned out behind Liv as she laughed at herself for not tying it back as was her custom. Her heart beat quickened, a strange sensation coming over her. Grey eyes widened, breath caught in her throat. The slight woman rounded a corner and the alien pain accosted her. It began to claw at her waist, accompanied by the feelings she had come to know as massive blood loss, blurred vision, catching breaths. As the “wound” pulled at her her eyes bean to shine pale amber. Vision clouded with swirling golden flecks, reminiscent of a thick snow flurry caught in the light of a magnificent sundown. In the center of her panorama of view the flecks gathered together in a stream leading down the winding cobbled streets and around a corner.
Cloak and locks forgotten, the girl followed the stream of pain at a brisk trot. A strong gust of wind pulled at the cloak, the strain causing the thin frayed ribbon holding it on to finally snap. It flew away form her and, hovering in the gust for a fraction of a second, to be abandoned by both wind and wearer, fluttered to the ground feet behind the pelting girl. The sound of her running feet reverberated in the empty back street, breaking the silent atmosphere.
Liv could almost hear the breathing of the man in the shadows. Though she could not yet see him her gift was painting a picture in her head. She stifled a gasp as it laid the scene out in her peripheral vision. She saw him sitting down, struggling to keep together, held up by some force other than himself. When she finally rounded the corner the scene that met her eyes was worse than the one her gift had provided. He was slumped in a corner, his head half supported by his knees. He leaned on the crumbling wall as if he would melt without its support. The blood pool around him was large and black, streaking up the old wall as though he had been standing and had slid to the cold ground. There were drips and smudges on the cobbled as far away as her clouded vision could see, staining them black.
She walked up to the crumpled form slowly. His breath came labored, accompanied by drops of blood which plastered his pants to his leg. The waiflike girl knelt down before the man. Small pale hands reached out from long sleeves hiding them from the weak light. One was placed behind his neck, steadying his head as the other pulled his knees flat. The small girl shifted the larger man until he was laying flat on the blood-slicked pavement, her ease seeming at odds with her slight frame and skeletal fingers.
As she shifted the limp form of the dying man Liv’s eyes began to glow brighter. Blood poured from the jagged wound in the ruined abdomen, coating the hands Liv placed there. “Please. It will be alright now. I can stop the pain.” The voice was barely audible, and she doubted the man was in any shape to hear it anyway. Golden flecks that had been previously only visible in the young woman’s mind now swirled around her shining bloody hands, seeping into the rent in the young man’s taught skin. Golden light began to spill from her eyes bathing both victim and savior in a gilded glow.
The shimmering dust motes poured into the man. The scene was still, the girl pouring her heart into a wounded stranger, changing both into gold statues. As the edges of the wound began to knit back together the breathing of the man eased. Golden sparks streamed out steadily for five minutes, slowly ebbing as the wound finally healed. Liv shuddered, the flow slowing to a trickle. Illumination left her eyes, the stormy blue grey returning to fill its space. The few specks still flowing form her hands clustered atop his chest, over his heart. They dove into his skin, erupting silently into the air. As the sparks settled and sunk into the ground the young woman’s eyes snapped clear. Here gaze fell on the man lying in front of her.
Slowly his chest rose and fell in an easy natural rhythm. The skin of his abdomen was clean and well defined, as she imagined it had been before he was hurt. His face was pale, but without the ghostly cast of the not long for this world it had held earlier. Liv sighed, falling back onto her heals. She removed a threadbare shawl from her shoulders, folding it neatly. This makeshift pillow was placed carefully under the mans head, her small bloodied hand supporting the cropped head and laying it carefully on the cloth, an improvement above the cold stone.
She pushed the fear out of her mind, trying not to think of the reaction of her mentors and teachers the next day when she did not show up for her early class, but more importantly what she was going to say to him when he regained consciousness. Wondering hoe long this one would take to regain his strength was placed near the forefront f her mind, displacing the other thoughts. Suddenly the young woman shot up, running to the place where her cloak had fallen. Blond hair streamed behind her as she raced back to place the thin fabric over the fallen man.
Liv sat back on her heals, awaiting the man’s awakening.
He said: Did Whispy block the answer?
Age: Sixteen
Experience: Only about a year actually. Hmmm… Less than that really... Let’s say… ten months?
How you found us: Neopets!
Role play Sample:
Empty cobbled streets wound endlessly on into the shadowed darkness. The stars hanging low in the dark sky cast the only light on the lonely lanes. As fleeting wisps of cloud pushed by some heavenly wind which never graced limited beings below covered the bright pin pricks of light, the shadows seemed to gain the upper hand on the weak starlight. In the ensuing darkness small noises were barely audible. Faint rustles of movement were audible in the near deathly quiet of the night. A small rodent could be heard skittering about in a chink in the stone walls. A night bird hooted sorrowfully, and, most surprisingly, the almost inaudible sound of someone breathing who was used to trying not to be heard broke the silence. Suddenly the scraps of cloud were thrust aside by a gust of cosmic wind, allowing the pale illumination to fall on a young woman, her pale hair standing out brighter than the stars. The gust had been preceded by a similar swell in the streets, swiping the brown hood off of the pale head.
The cool night air felt good against the small bits skin left exposed by the girl wandering the alleyways. Most of her slight frame was obscured by a large cloak of an indeterminate brown color. The flaps billowed around her, periodically showing the tattered clothing held together with natural twine, hidden underneath. Her face shone aler than her hair, and before she snatched her hood up to cover her countenance the strange ray of heavenly light landed strangely on her open face, her grey eyes shining out of the shadow. She walked alone through the winding streets of Matedora, her mind far away.
Olivia’s footsteps sounded loud to her trained ears. She walked alone at night, as she did many days after her classes were over. Her gift was strangely powerful, and so her courses had been changed from the average curriculum of a new student. While most of the other young healers could mix wonderful potions, create cures, fix small scrapes, and hold their hands unbelievably steady, she was, and had always been, different. The strange gift she presented with had been a surprise for her teachers and the other young people learning their trades. Where they were confined to small works, she could heal almost anything. Coupled with the fact that when a being was in pain near her she felt their sensation in her core this talent had set her away from the rest.
The wind rustled her cloak again, blowing it up and away form her, streaming in the strange wind that had come up. The pale golden hair fanned out behind Liv as she laughed at herself for not tying it back as was her custom. Her heart beat quickened, a strange sensation coming over her. Grey eyes widened, breath caught in her throat. The slight woman rounded a corner and the alien pain accosted her. It began to claw at her waist, accompanied by the feelings she had come to know as massive blood loss, blurred vision, catching breaths. As the “wound” pulled at her her eyes bean to shine pale amber. Vision clouded with swirling golden flecks, reminiscent of a thick snow flurry caught in the light of a magnificent sundown. In the center of her panorama of view the flecks gathered together in a stream leading down the winding cobbled streets and around a corner.
Cloak and locks forgotten, the girl followed the stream of pain at a brisk trot. A strong gust of wind pulled at the cloak, the strain causing the thin frayed ribbon holding it on to finally snap. It flew away form her and, hovering in the gust for a fraction of a second, to be abandoned by both wind and wearer, fluttered to the ground feet behind the pelting girl. The sound of her running feet reverberated in the empty back street, breaking the silent atmosphere.
Liv could almost hear the breathing of the man in the shadows. Though she could not yet see him her gift was painting a picture in her head. She stifled a gasp as it laid the scene out in her peripheral vision. She saw him sitting down, struggling to keep together, held up by some force other than himself. When she finally rounded the corner the scene that met her eyes was worse than the one her gift had provided. He was slumped in a corner, his head half supported by his knees. He leaned on the crumbling wall as if he would melt without its support. The blood pool around him was large and black, streaking up the old wall as though he had been standing and had slid to the cold ground. There were drips and smudges on the cobbled as far away as her clouded vision could see, staining them black.
She walked up to the crumpled form slowly. His breath came labored, accompanied by drops of blood which plastered his pants to his leg. The waiflike girl knelt down before the man. Small pale hands reached out from long sleeves hiding them from the weak light. One was placed behind his neck, steadying his head as the other pulled his knees flat. The small girl shifted the larger man until he was laying flat on the blood-slicked pavement, her ease seeming at odds with her slight frame and skeletal fingers.
As she shifted the limp form of the dying man Liv’s eyes began to glow brighter. Blood poured from the jagged wound in the ruined abdomen, coating the hands Liv placed there. “Please. It will be alright now. I can stop the pain.” The voice was barely audible, and she doubted the man was in any shape to hear it anyway. Golden flecks that had been previously only visible in the young woman’s mind now swirled around her shining bloody hands, seeping into the rent in the young man’s taught skin. Golden light began to spill from her eyes bathing both victim and savior in a gilded glow.
The shimmering dust motes poured into the man. The scene was still, the girl pouring her heart into a wounded stranger, changing both into gold statues. As the edges of the wound began to knit back together the breathing of the man eased. Golden sparks streamed out steadily for five minutes, slowly ebbing as the wound finally healed. Liv shuddered, the flow slowing to a trickle. Illumination left her eyes, the stormy blue grey returning to fill its space. The few specks still flowing form her hands clustered atop his chest, over his heart. They dove into his skin, erupting silently into the air. As the sparks settled and sunk into the ground the young woman’s eyes snapped clear. Here gaze fell on the man lying in front of her.
Slowly his chest rose and fell in an easy natural rhythm. The skin of his abdomen was clean and well defined, as she imagined it had been before he was hurt. His face was pale, but without the ghostly cast of the not long for this world it had held earlier. Liv sighed, falling back onto her heals. She removed a threadbare shawl from her shoulders, folding it neatly. This makeshift pillow was placed carefully under the mans head, her small bloodied hand supporting the cropped head and laying it carefully on the cloth, an improvement above the cold stone.
She pushed the fear out of her mind, trying not to think of the reaction of her mentors and teachers the next day when she did not show up for her early class, but more importantly what she was going to say to him when he regained consciousness. Wondering hoe long this one would take to regain his strength was placed near the forefront f her mind, displacing the other thoughts. Suddenly the young woman shot up, running to the place where her cloak had fallen. Blond hair streamed behind her as she raced back to place the thin fabric over the fallen man.
Liv sat back on her heals, awaiting the man’s awakening.
He said: Did Whispy block the answer?
