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Wbicepuppy; applicamagig
Topic Started: Jan 8 2010, 01:19 AM (149 Views)
wbicepuppy
godzilla complex
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Username: wbicepuppy
Preferred Name: windy
Age (optional): over 20 (I'm legal!)
Years role-playing: tabletop: around 11-12, online I'd say about nine
Favorite Genre: Original settings
Least favorite genre: gratuitious sexin' with no plot (booooring)
Anything you’d like to add: I can draw stuff? Oh... please excuse the occasionnal mistake, as english is actually not my first language.


Role-playing Sample:

It had been a nice day, up until everything went to hell. For once, the sky had been clear of the dreadful rain that usually fell over the streets. Tish didn't hate the rain, but twenty days straight of the damn stuff could bring your mood down something terrible. No wonder people were in such a foul mood these days. But when the sun had finally come up that morning, pale and kind of weak at first, like a geek coming out of his basement after a 48 hour-long WoW marathon, but gaining more strenght as it rose in the sky, it had been like a second spring. Not that they'd had a real one in the first place, mind... the snow had melted, plants had grown (and they were very healthy plants indeed, thanks to near-constant watering...), but the real feeling that winter had been defeated at last just hadn't been there.

He'd set out that morning (well, okay, it hadn't qualified as "morning" anymore when he got up) like all the inhabitants of the small town, blinking in the light, finally getting a bit of warmth. Tish liked the sun. He was born in a place where snow was a myth, only to move into this cold, wet country where people lived alone in big houses and everyone depended on money all the time. He had adapted, of course. Adapt or die. That was how humanity had managed to conquer the planet, wasn't it? That didn't mean he had to enjoy it. Crime was different here than it was back home. He'd adapted to that, too.

Tish stood out among the crowd of zombie-like people. For one, he had dark skin, maybe indian or pakistani, but his hair was blond, almost white, turning to a darker reddish tint at the tips. This was, he insisted, completely natural. Something like exposure to sunlight would change his hair color. He wasn't sure why.

Okay, no, that was a lie, he knew one of the reasons, but not the actual means. This was genetic, a little something fun he'd got from his mom's bloodline, which also made his irises a very unnatural shade of orange, with vertical pupils that had a definite reptilian look. Coupled with his bony, angular body, his deep mistrust of people, a tendency for sarchasm that got him in trouble more than once and reflexes that were all BUT human, Tish looked only a few steps away from one of those skinny little lizards you found in the south of the States. He was well aware of this, and often wore shirts with lizard patterns to mess with people. It would come as a surprise to some that he even had a lizard tattoo on his stomach, although no one ever came close enough to him to know about it anyway.

Well, some people were finding out now. Not that he wanted them to, because a mark that very obviously identified him as a Firesoul was like wearing fluorescent pink on a battleground. It made him a target, and it could get him killed. People didn't like the Firesouls in general, and lizards in particular. Something that had to do with one of them turning into a dragon or something. Tish couldn't pull off something like that, but there were some people around the place who didn't want to take any chances.

"Y'got some nerve, comin' to this city..." One of the thugs spat. Tish barely spared him a glance. The guy was a wolf, who were barely capable of elemental magic. The problem with wolves were that they came in packs, though, and sometimes these packs were headed by something a little more... worrying. That was the case here, unfortunately, but the leader hadn't said anything yet.

Actually, that was terrifying.

Tish leaned back against the brick wall, causing one of the thugs to tighten his grip a little. "'s not illegal to walk around the place, as far as I know." Tish muttered.

The thugs shared a look, before one of them snorted and shoved him against the wall. "It is if Dave says so, creep! Y' like having all your limbs, boy?" This was followed by laughter from the rest of the band, save, again, for the leader.

Tish met his gaze for a second, and felt a small surge of suicidal bravado. "Haven't heard him say anything." He pointed out. That was, on second thought, not a good move when someone was in the right position to dislocate your arm. Tish managed to bite down a scream as the thug twisted, turning his left shoulder in a ball of red hot agony, waiting to hear the "pop" of a joint leaving its socket.

The "pop" didn't come, though. Blinking tears out of his eyes, Tish saw the leader stride in their direction. He was vaguely aware that the guy had said something, but he was, at the moment, focussing on not fainting. He slid gratefully down against the wall as the thugs let go of him, arm still attached.

The leader crouched next to him and forced his chin up. Tish stared in a pair of ice blue eyes, not the grayish muddled blue you saw in regulars, but irises the color of light playing on snow on a crisp winter day. And then Tish fainted.

(Woah, this got a lot longer than I thought, sorry! I hope you don't mind the TL;DR. Just had to finish somewhere.)
[I EAT CITY]
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Purple Butterfly Pills
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In Over Her Head
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**Accepted**

I’d write some sort of critique, but I just woke up and have to go to work. -__- Anywho~ Enjoy!
[align=center]Live each day like it's your last...[/align]

[align=right]Because it very well could be...[/align]
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