Post by captain on May 1, 2007 19:21:49 GMT -5
The Role Player: About You[/U]
Name: Henry or Harry or Hal
Gender: Incongruously female
Time Zone: GMT
How You Found Us: Neopets advertisement thread
The Character: Basics[/U]
Full Name: Sylvain Aurelius Finch-Fletchley
Age: Seventeen
Parents' Names: Justin Finch-Fletchley and Gabrielle Delacour
House at Hogwarts: Where dwell the brave at heart
Year at Hogwarts: Seventh
Gender: Male
History:
Siblings Attending Hogwarts: Two triplet sisters
Siblings out of Hogwarts: None
The Character: Appearance[/U]
Eyes: Deep-set and grey-blue
Hair: Pale gold and impeccably straight
Piercings: None
Tattoos: None
Celebrity Picture:
Celebrity Name: Nick Potts
The Character: Personality[/U]
Likes:
»Cigarettes
»Coffee ice-cream
»Intelligent conversation
»Jazz and the blues
»Long bike or broom rides
»The Moroccan vista
»Thunderstorms
Dislikes:
»British cuisine
»Dessert wine
»Humid heat
»Melodramatics
»Narrow-mindedness
»Poor personal hygiene
»Small yappy dogs
Good Qualities:
Bad Qualities:
Overall Personality:
The Roleplayer: For Administrator[/U]
Favourite Rule:
Reason:
The Roleplayer: Audition[/U]
What It Is: Introduction
What Genre It Is: Post-apocalyptic fantasy
Where It's From: Sons of Cain (GreatestJournal)
Roleplaying Sample: The golden afternoon had quickly faded into the kind of night eternalized in poems and ballads--the air was warm and sweeter smelling that it had been earlier, and the indigo sky seemed to chime with the twinkling timbre of hundreds of thousands of stars. It was indeed a beautiful night. The moon, a sliver of silver light, seemed to hang so low over the red desert that one had only to reach aloft to hold it in one's hand. The man had been staring at the firmament for at least an hour and he had been lying there, swathed in the shadows of the derelict construction site, for nearly half a day. For the past twenty minutes, however, he had been listening to the sadistic shouts, the brutal barks, the grievous growls, and the eerily beautiful metallic symphony of blade upon blade that presaged mortal combat.
By solely the riveting sound of the combatants' scuffling boots and clanging knives, he could distinguish who it was that had gained the edge in the fierce street fight. Lifting a calloused hand from its resting place on the concrete at his side to grip the ornately carved hilt of the jagged knife lodged in his thigh, the man smiled a drowsily ominous smile and murmured darkly, "Missed, Fluffy". With a barely perceptible flinch and a harsh grunt, he wrenched the blade from his leg and rose to his feet with a liquid, catlike grace unfeasible for the mere human. Running spider-like fingers through the coarse brown locks creeping about his tanned visage like the tendrils of an overgrown vine, Jack Vaughan limped (with a stately decorum) towards the sound of singing metal to halt just beyond the pool of moonlight that shone upon the duelers.
In a matter of seconds, his keen gaze had focused upon the bulkily swaying form of the werewolf who had assaulted him earlier. Raising the dagger he still clutched in his hand, he narrowed his eyes murderously and advanced into the dreamlike embrace of the eerie celestial light. With a swift intake of dry desert air, he stepped forward with one booted foot and propelled the opposite, blade-bearing arm forth to send the weapon flying like a dazzling star towards its unsuspecting victim. With an unpleasant thud, the knife struck its own master square in the back just as he bested and toppled his Progeny opponent. "Seamless," Vaughan murmured as he approached the pair of grizzly carcasses sprawled across the caking sand. Gruffly kicking aside the larger of the two with a heavily booted foot, he stooped to lift any loose documents from the remains of the Hound of Tartarus.
“What next, Soren, what next?” he drawled softly as he distanced himself from the unmoving mass of purple flesh that was his brother-in-law’s creation. After sifting through the scant pile of scouting notes the Progeny was to present to his master, Jack sighed wistfully and reached for the flask of vampire’s blood nestled in the breast pocket of his overcoat. Stuffing the papers into a limp pouch at his hip, he took a swift draft of the healing fluid before reminding himself of the effects it had on one’s mental vigilance. Replacing the flask in his coat, he flexed his wounded leg several times as if to encourage the curative process. Wincing ever slightly, he turned on his heel and hobbled into the night towards the ghost town of Willow Beach, his eyes trained on the unseen horizon and his ears trained on his immediate surroundings.
He had trudged about in the company of his own solitude and the monotony of the desert for three days, and it was three hours more before the bone-white stone of the Lakeside Complex’s crumbling buildings graced his eyesight. Silently, he quickened his pace as he strode across what had come to be known as ‘the quad’ to discreetly slip through one of the well-hidden entrances. The familiar scent of putrid fish and marijuana assaulted his nostrils as he snaked and weaved his way through the upper levels of the complex. The sentries he had posted at the doorway to the underground lounge did not stop him as he approached and he did not spare them so much as a word as he passed through the portico. In spite of the host of enthusiastic greetings he received as he meandered across the den, he held his tongue and fixed his gaze on the vacant sofa at the very back of the room. Once he deemed himself close enough, he collapsed into its dilapidated cushions rather comically and instantly fell into what certainly seemed like a deep slumber.
Home sweet home.[/size]
Name: Henry or Harry or Hal
Gender: Incongruously female
Time Zone: GMT
How You Found Us: Neopets advertisement thread
The Character: Basics[/U]
Full Name: Sylvain Aurelius Finch-Fletchley
Age: Seventeen
Parents' Names: Justin Finch-Fletchley and Gabrielle Delacour
House at Hogwarts: Where dwell the brave at heart
Year at Hogwarts: Seventh
Gender: Male
History:
Siblings Attending Hogwarts: Two triplet sisters
Siblings out of Hogwarts: None
The Character: Appearance[/U]
Eyes: Deep-set and grey-blue
Hair: Pale gold and impeccably straight
Piercings: None
Tattoos: None
Celebrity Picture:
Celebrity Name: Nick Potts
The Character: Personality[/U]
Likes:
»Cigarettes
»Coffee ice-cream
»Intelligent conversation
»Jazz and the blues
»Long bike or broom rides
»The Moroccan vista
»Thunderstorms
Dislikes:
»British cuisine
»Dessert wine
»Humid heat
»Melodramatics
»Narrow-mindedness
»Poor personal hygiene
»Small yappy dogs
Good Qualities:
Bad Qualities:
Overall Personality:
The Roleplayer: For Administrator[/U]
Favourite Rule:
Reason:
The Roleplayer: Audition[/U]
What It Is: Introduction
What Genre It Is: Post-apocalyptic fantasy
Where It's From: Sons of Cain (GreatestJournal)
Roleplaying Sample: The golden afternoon had quickly faded into the kind of night eternalized in poems and ballads--the air was warm and sweeter smelling that it had been earlier, and the indigo sky seemed to chime with the twinkling timbre of hundreds of thousands of stars. It was indeed a beautiful night. The moon, a sliver of silver light, seemed to hang so low over the red desert that one had only to reach aloft to hold it in one's hand. The man had been staring at the firmament for at least an hour and he had been lying there, swathed in the shadows of the derelict construction site, for nearly half a day. For the past twenty minutes, however, he had been listening to the sadistic shouts, the brutal barks, the grievous growls, and the eerily beautiful metallic symphony of blade upon blade that presaged mortal combat.
By solely the riveting sound of the combatants' scuffling boots and clanging knives, he could distinguish who it was that had gained the edge in the fierce street fight. Lifting a calloused hand from its resting place on the concrete at his side to grip the ornately carved hilt of the jagged knife lodged in his thigh, the man smiled a drowsily ominous smile and murmured darkly, "Missed, Fluffy". With a barely perceptible flinch and a harsh grunt, he wrenched the blade from his leg and rose to his feet with a liquid, catlike grace unfeasible for the mere human. Running spider-like fingers through the coarse brown locks creeping about his tanned visage like the tendrils of an overgrown vine, Jack Vaughan limped (with a stately decorum) towards the sound of singing metal to halt just beyond the pool of moonlight that shone upon the duelers.
In a matter of seconds, his keen gaze had focused upon the bulkily swaying form of the werewolf who had assaulted him earlier. Raising the dagger he still clutched in his hand, he narrowed his eyes murderously and advanced into the dreamlike embrace of the eerie celestial light. With a swift intake of dry desert air, he stepped forward with one booted foot and propelled the opposite, blade-bearing arm forth to send the weapon flying like a dazzling star towards its unsuspecting victim. With an unpleasant thud, the knife struck its own master square in the back just as he bested and toppled his Progeny opponent. "Seamless," Vaughan murmured as he approached the pair of grizzly carcasses sprawled across the caking sand. Gruffly kicking aside the larger of the two with a heavily booted foot, he stooped to lift any loose documents from the remains of the Hound of Tartarus.
“What next, Soren, what next?” he drawled softly as he distanced himself from the unmoving mass of purple flesh that was his brother-in-law’s creation. After sifting through the scant pile of scouting notes the Progeny was to present to his master, Jack sighed wistfully and reached for the flask of vampire’s blood nestled in the breast pocket of his overcoat. Stuffing the papers into a limp pouch at his hip, he took a swift draft of the healing fluid before reminding himself of the effects it had on one’s mental vigilance. Replacing the flask in his coat, he flexed his wounded leg several times as if to encourage the curative process. Wincing ever slightly, he turned on his heel and hobbled into the night towards the ghost town of Willow Beach, his eyes trained on the unseen horizon and his ears trained on his immediate surroundings.
He had trudged about in the company of his own solitude and the monotony of the desert for three days, and it was three hours more before the bone-white stone of the Lakeside Complex’s crumbling buildings graced his eyesight. Silently, he quickened his pace as he strode across what had come to be known as ‘the quad’ to discreetly slip through one of the well-hidden entrances. The familiar scent of putrid fish and marijuana assaulted his nostrils as he snaked and weaved his way through the upper levels of the complex. The sentries he had posted at the doorway to the underground lounge did not stop him as he approached and he did not spare them so much as a word as he passed through the portico. In spite of the host of enthusiastic greetings he received as he meandered across the den, he held his tongue and fixed his gaze on the vacant sofa at the very back of the room. Once he deemed himself close enough, he collapsed into its dilapidated cushions rather comically and instantly fell into what certainly seemed like a deep slumber.
Home sweet home.[/size]