SPRING HORSE RACE
Jul. 19 - Jul. 25 Neverending River
This little village was founded over fifty years ago, and was named after the rare mineral found in the mines. Charoite. The founding fathers found it fitting to center it around two dangerous forests, and rocky mountainside, and a beach - secluded from the rest of the world. Little did they know it was home to three mystical beings: The Harvest Goddess, the Wicked Witch, and the In-Between Enchantress. A lot of the times they disagree with each other, and rarely do they ever have a conversation worth three sentences. But they do have one thing in common - to have all the power in the village. So for the last fifty or so years, their strife has been ruthless. Now mix that in with the love, the hate, and the drama between the people. What a wonderful life it is in Charoite Village, isn't it?
Love is capable of driving the average human to do many a funny things. Love makes people travel across oceans, move mountains, perform feats they never would... So when a young man's love asked him to pluck her a flower from the Goddess's hair, how could he refuse? How could he know the dangers that this action would cause?
Once upon a time, a young man who was determined to find the Goddess, in order to have one of the flowers that sat atop her head. Glad for company, the Goddess obliged, but made the man promise that he would stop by every day to visit her, for she was not a being who got much company. Things went by at a fairy-tale's pace for a while, as the man married his love, and took care to visit the Goddess every day, telling her tales to entertain her as he visited. But why was it, that the Harvest Goddess, a being as old as time itself, felt as if she loved this mortal male human?
It simply was not done.
Love is capable of driving this Harvest Goddess to do a many funny things. Love made her worry when he didn't show up that day, love made her leave her home and venture into the village, looking for him. Love made her see his beloved wife for what she really was, a monster, disguised to look like a woman, to deceive...
The Harvest Sprites, hating to see their Goddess look so distraught about this news, turned to the man to warn him about his wife, surprised to find that they could be seen by him, for only those with pure hearts would ever be able to see them. Telling him the news about his wife, the Sprites and the young man raced to the Goddess Pond, only to find that the monster had beaten them there...
In her hand was that flower, the Goddess’s flower that had been given to her, now wilted, black, miserable... As the dark being spoke of despair washing the islands, the flower was plunged into the Goddess’s chest, as she morphed into something obscene, a creature not fit to be called holy. Laughter painted the air, the young man shut his eyes as a bitter coldness brushed over the island, a bitter winter...
Love is capable of driving an average little village into an eternal winter. But despite everything, despite the dark magic that surrounds this little town, the villagers still attempt to smile, still attempt to find warmth in this winter. You don't need the sun or the stars in order to be able to taste the rainbow.
+From veteran rpers to newcomers, we invite you all! +Canon roles and Original characters are accepted. +Friendly staff and members are always around to help you out! +A main plot is set in motion, that you can get involved in! + If that's not your thing, you can just lounge around town and make new friends. +Mini quests are available for you to take part in. + Your actions can open up new canon roles, shops, even whole new islands! +Fun festivals are always around for you to jump in and join! +OoC Contests are available for you to win awesome prizes![/align]
a intermediate-advanced fantasy/evangelic roleplay --------------
The year is 2020... but something isn't right.
There's chaos in the city. No one knows what caused this epidemic to happen. The other cities are perfect. Nothing happened... so why did it only affect us? Why was Panamoor City the only city to have been struck by this disastor? It wiped out half of our population...two hundred and fifty thousand people to be approximate. There is so much confusion in the aftermath. So much grief...pain and a sense of loneliness like no other. What happened to us?
PANAMOOR CITY is changing.... and not for the better.
Vampires don't exist. It's just not possible. But today, on the streets, I saw one feeding. People have been seeing things happen, strange things that no one can really explain. There have been reports of lycans, angels and demons of walking the city during broad daylight. I can only think that they are freaks trying to gain attention, but then there are necromancers and mages using magic, yes magic, in broad daylight. This isn't supposed to be real. It can't be real.
What do these MARKS mean... genes have mutated.
I don't understand this at all. People are being marked with odd tattoo's, but they dont all have the same color. Some do, and some don't. And then...strange things happen to them. They start changing. Scientists believe that somehow, during the epidemic, the surviving people had their genes mutated. But can we really be sure? Can we be absolutely sure? There must have been something...wait, what is that? Is that...is that an Archangel? Wow...she is absolutely beautiful...so stunning. Who is that besides her? Is...is he a God of some kind?
Everyone has run out of TIME... your heart is pounding.
No. No this can't be...I have been marked and marked with a red tattoo. Research has shown that this is the mark of a demon. Am I really to become a demon? I do not want to change...I do not want to be marked. Oh God, if there is a God, can you save us? AHHH! The pain! It is in agonizing...what am i becoming? Fangs? Wings? Ohh, the pain...it hurts. I cannot bear it for much longer...what? What are these? Claws? Why...why am I suddenly hungry for...for flesh? Is that a hunter? No. No. I can't be...but I am...I'm a--
Requiem of Twilight, A Legend of Zelda RP (lb) « Result #4 on Jul 13, 2009, 1:18pm »
Over a hundred years ago...
The King of Thieves was captured in a failed attempt to kill the Hylian King and usurp the throne. As punishment, he was ordered to be executed by the Ancient Sage spirits, but as this order was carried out, through some divine jest, the evil Gerudo was gifted with the Goddesses’ power and revived.
Breaking free of his restraints, the dark lord drew the weapon of his demise from his chest, his vile laugh filling the air as he prepared to kill his executioners. However, this short moment of reprieve was the King’s downfall, as the Sages managed to open a portal to another world behind him. The void the portal created began to pull at him, slowly drawing him towards its depths, proving beyond even the Goddesses’ power to prevent.
The last act of the King of Evil before he disappeared from time was to launch the Sage’s Sword into the portal’s originator, piercing the very center of the Mirror of Twilight, but this proved to be worthless, as the damage was merely superficial, and the blade was quickly pulled into the void with its new owner…
The world has since lived in peace, battles and wars are small and short, fights becoming a mere training exercise of caution. People remain alert, prepared, but relaxed and comfortable.
Unfortunately, as with all things,
peace cannot last forever…
As you can tell, this is a Legend of Zelda Roleplay site, and I'm sure those of you who have good eyes can tell its based on the Twilight Princess game, but expanded and with a twist. We like to think of our site as a "Fantasy/Zelda RP", the knowledge of Zelda required is minimal~ You are able to claim canons from the game, as well as make original characters, get involved with the plot if you wish, and roleplay to your hearts content. ♥
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 282 Location: Sitting on the rainbow Karma: 4
Re: Striking Midnight « Result #5 on Jul 9, 2009, 10:27am »
Wow, this was really good. I like the way you used the whole "time" concept, it adds a nice touch to the work. That is a good subject that you chose for a "midnight" contest. It was written very well and I think you did a very nice job. =] Thank you for sharing that with us.
« Last Edit: Jul 9, 2009, 10:31am by darkblossom »
Joined: Jul 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 296 Location: Out the Window Karma: 8
Striking Midnight « Result #6 on Jul 9, 2009, 2:00am »
AN// A little something I wrote for a forum challenge on FF.Net. The theme was "midnight", so I took that and ran with it. :)
Striking Midnight
Time? Currently eleven fifty-six and eleven seconds. Although when I finish thinking that sentence, it’ll probably be eleven fifty-seven and thirteen seconds.
The digits on the clock always slip away so fast, sometimes I’m not even sure why I pay attention to them anymore. So pointless. It’s funny to think that it even used to even be a habit of mine. As a little kid I had always had a fascination with watches. Red ones, blue ones, silver linings and ones with cute little paw prints on the straps… I loved how they ticked. I loved how they were ruled by intricately fascinating knobs and gears. But that fascination went away about the same time that the clock started to hate me. When it starts getting depressing to tell the time – like how you’re only seven years old, home alone, and your mother is home late from drinking again – it starts to loose the appeal.
But you get the point. Clocks rarely tell you good news. And it’s always running away, too. Hell, it’s the very verb we use to describe it in the English language. Time runs…
Like so: it’s now currently eleven fifty-seven and three seconds. Make that…four.
So it shouldn’t come as any surprise that a whole day – hell, a holiday – that revolves around time and clock-watching shouldn’t really be up that high on my preferred list. It’s pointless. Really. Whoever came up with the grand idea that staying up late, drinking yourself into an oblivion, and setting off small explosions in the middle of the night was a good idea ought to be publicly shot. By myself, preferably. It might make me feel a bit better, although it wouldn’t really do anything for the small fiasco currently going on just a few feet below me. I can, as we speak, still hear voices oozing though my floorboards and the staccato babble of a shabby radio buzzing in the background.
“We’re almost there, folks!” the announcer on talk-show program cheerfully tells his listeners. Which, technically, at this point includes me…since his words are still registering in my brain against my will. “So close, so close! Right now we’re at eleven fifty-eight and counting! Are you getting your countdown groups ready, people?”
I find it annoying how there is no place for me to run too. I find it rude how society declares I have no choice but to taint myself with this legal rioting. “Have a drink! Have a toast!” they say. After helping each other chug down a couple barrels of alcohol – only to puke it right back up the next morning – hoards gather together to stare at the seconds passing by and deem it something important. As if. I’ve been staring at the clock in my room for the past couple hours, and I can tell you from experience that there is nothing special about it. We live in a world where we are all constantly bustling and shuffling by, cursing the sun and how fast it careens across the sky. Yet here we are. On a single, freezing night in the middle of winter, suddenly its our sole, joyful focus.
The damn party is growing more feverish downstairs. And there is nowhere I can go to escape it. One of the bad parts about living in an Inn room with poor sound insulation.
“Only a minute left!” I hear a high pitched, feminine voice with a slight slur squeal from the gathering that’s commencing just a few feet south of me. It occurs to the sociologist in me that it would be highly interesting if I could some how rip up the floorboards, silently watch the party from above, and just be a mere witness to their idiocy. It’s not like I locked myself into this dark, stuffy bedroom because I had nothing better to do. It’s just that while I find people-watching interesting, it bothers me when other’s assume I want to get sucked into it all.
Why is it that my peers can’t just understand that maybe I don’t like large groups, loud noises, and that I might to just want to enjoy myself quietly in the corner? Oh…yeah. Maybe because I never really take the time to make connections, talk, and give anyone a damn. Sarcasm drips, even from my inner monologue. Hmm. One of the drawbacks about being a wanderer, right there. However small.
“Alright!” calls the radio DJ once more, his own speaker-crackled voice growing in excitement despite the childishness of it all. “Wait for it…wait for it…here we go!” And before I know it, I can hear all their muffled voices below me start to chant in unison. The whole village, young and old, beginning a countdown from ten to zero backwards.
“Ten! Nine! Eight…!”
Lightly fingering the blanketed bed I’m sitting on, I briefly wonder if I should join them downstairs. It’s a sudden thought and a foolish one. Blinking my eyes to the dim light of my room a couple times, I just shake my head. I’ve spent the whole night up here away from those hooligans. Why in the world would I want to change my M.O. now? Perhaps it’s something in the way all their tones, from girly giggles to low baritones, all gather together and start a pattern I know all too well. It calls back to younger days, sitting with my own family (however fragmented), and counting the same numbers with my own bright blue eyes wide… For some reason, my throat randomly begins to constrict painfully at the thought. Hmm…
Memories cause nothing but trouble…
“Seven! Six! Five…!”
I had just given a sigh and recrossed my legs when a screech assaulted my ears. “Wait!” it called, and I jumped in spite of my self. “Wait! …Where’s Nami?” At those words I can feel my own heartbeat flutter vibrantly, my name acting like a cue card for my palms to start sweating. They…well, at least someone… remembered?
“Four! Three!” Of course, it’s then that I hear someone shush my nameless voice of concern as the chant continues. A rather religious like frenzy is starting as the moment grows so intoxicatingly close. I bite my lower lip. And close my eyes. The shush echoes in my mind, and I tell myself it’s stupid to feel saddened. Of course. I'm just an afterthought. And “the moment” is much more important than me. After all, I’m just the antisocial redhead of a foreigner that happens to have a room in the Inn. Shaking my head, I stand up to start fixing my sheets. It’s late, after all. And I’m getting tired. Despite that society says I should be withering in happy anxiety right now.
You know what? I think as I pull back the quilt and start to crawl under it, with only the December moon shining though my window as a nightlight, Time is overrated…
“Two! One!” I hear a collective shout as I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact…
Poppers go off. Kazoos blare. Children call out nonsensically, rejoicing with their adult company. “Happy New Year!” The phrase brands itself in my ears as its only accented by the sounds of happy kissing couples and the clinking of champagne glasses. And the same sentence is repeated out over the airwaves thanks to the DJ.
“Happy New Year, Forget-Me-Not Valley! A very happy new year to you all!”
Time? Twelve, double ‘oh. AKA? Midnight. Although when I finish closing my eyes, It’ll probably be twelve with a zero-one tacked on the end.
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 11 Location: a place where no cars go Karma: 1
five day leave...? « Result #10 on Jul 4, 2009, 10:31pm »
im going to camp from monday to the tenth, but i wont be on at all tomorrow either. Its possible i wont be on for a day or so after that either, because i need to...sleep.
so, er, sorry i havent really replied, i promise i'll get to it when i come back >.<
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