Welcome to the guild~!
Name: OhGodOfWriting on sites everywhere, call-name Eliza so that I don't intimidate the masses too much xD
Age: Twenty four
Years of roleplaying experience: Probably around twelve
How did you find us? Google searching every possible construct of the phrase "Roleplay Forum"
Interests/Hobbies: Writing, reading, painting, animals
Roleplay genres preferred: Action, Adventure, mxf Romance, Drama, Humor...all at once. I envoy fantasy, sci-fi, historical...pretty much everything, but I like to write it as if it is modern. That is to say I am very descriptive, but not flowery.
Random facts about yourself: I want to find some of THEE WORLD'S GREATEST WRITERS to roleplay with.
I am eternally on the hunt for truly fantastic writers with which to roleplay. Here is my thread in search of one on one's: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...77#post8293077
If you can handle the heat, drop me a line. if you can't, get out of the kitchen. Or the literate searching thread, as it were.
"The port was bustling as usual, despite the early hour. The air was cool, and the spray from the ocean made the wind taste like salt, even on land. It was a beautiful day, the kind perfect for a do-over. The ship the man chose was less auspicious, but he was drawn to the derelict, small vessel. It had been a real beauty once, but it had the look of something almost zombiefied now. It's name, "The Siren's Song," was barely legible on the aft end of the ship, beneath stained plate-glass windows which were no longer translucent. Barnacles were clustered too high on the hull of her, the sea trying to reclaim her. Her wood was water-rotted, gray, and certain pieces of it seemed misplaced. The masts leaned, the statue of a nude woman on the piercing prow was deformed, making her look a monster. Wide boards extended on port and starboard, trailing off into jagged, broken edges several feet behind the poop deck, suspended in the air. Her sepia sails were gathered and bound with ropes, anchored at the dock. These ropes, including the ratlines, looked sufficiently strong, if not a little more bloated and fuzzy than regular ropes. Yet she was majestic. Not something that could ever be as good as new again, but then, the man liked under-appreciated things. A hidden treasure, that somehow managed to eek into the seaworthy category, like an old well-made machine that had far outlasted its time. He saw it as a project, that he could actually do some good on board. Or maybe he just liked being a big fish in a little pond. He had a generally unassuming and humble air, but then, isn't it the people who feel ignored that most crave recognition?
If the man was driven by any of these psychological factors (and who isn't) he was unaware of it. Unusual looking as the ship he boarded, if not more so, he strode up the plank while he looked around for the Boatswain. He had heard that they were recruiting at the tavern, and set off right away. Due to a...disagreement...with his previous captain, he had chosen to stay at this port when he last docked. A couple of weeks of companionship and lounging in the pub was enough to drive him mad with boredom. He had stopped praying, and let himself get drunker and drunker, a difficult feat for such a burly man. Not pushing himself physically was beginning to drive him insane. He just let his cells soak up more and more alcohol, having to be tossed out of the taverns at night sometimes. He'd squandered all his gold and gotten his meager belongings stolen. He'd started some fights that he couldn't finish, and had far overstayed his welcome. At the pub last night, he heard the men talking about that new "crap hole" of a ship, as they had called it, and the freak of nature who captained it. He'd gone out at night to look at it, and as he stared at it the moonlight, two thoughts came to his mind, both of them wry. The first was, "I know how you feel," and the second was, "That looks like a ship I'll die on." That had decided it. Willing himself back into sobriety with the force of self-control that was so characteristic of who he was, he'd eaten, submerged himself in the cold ocean, and spent the night hydrating and sleeping when he could. Sleep never came easily to him. It hadn't for so long.
When he found the man with the manifest, he stopped in front of the man he towered over. "Koledy Hunt, reportin' for duty. What posts're still open?" The Boatswain looked at him through a scared face so beaten up, it looked like the facial features had been rearranged by a child. Maybe that's where Koledy recognized him from... "Uh, nothin'. Cap'n filled the good slots first come first serve. We'll take as many able-bodied sailors's we can, though. Still need a swabbie an' a rigger, but..." the Boatswain gave him another timid stare. "We're not goin' ta' make ye do that."
Koledy nodded. "Young men are best for those jobs, 'n you and me are old aboard a ship," the man agreed, hoping to ease the Boatswain's distrust of him. It was true that pirates lived short, danger-riddled lives. They were aged prematurely on the rough seas by conditions, warfare, and illness. Of course, avarice and hatred did not do much for a person's soul, either. "Where be the captain?"
"She stays mostly tah 'er cabin. Said she'll come out once we 'r ready to sail." The Boatswain leaned in. "Mind yer step 'round her, mate. There be dragons in these waters." The man found it hard not to feel contemptuous of someone who would say that about a woman and a captain. Everyone knew perfectly well not to step on the toes of a captain, and didn't need to be reminded. Shouldn't need to be reminded, no matter the gender. Contradictorily, he thought the Boatswain weak to fear a woman. With a simple nod, he moved off, staying topside, but examining the ship.
Though Koledy spoke of himself as old, and in years he was definitely past his prime to be a pirate and not a captain, he did not look it. At early thirties, he had been preserved rather well considering his lifestyle as a pirate. The secret to this was that he hadn't been at it for long. Not something he advertised. Though a few years was plenty respectable for one such as he, his previous profession was not, and would make him seem weak in his fellow outlaw's eyes. Dark chocolate brown skin gave him some level of protection from the sun, so he had not weathered so fast as the burnt-to-a-crisp palefaces. He had a frame that was naturally big, but not naturally muscled. His torso, while utterly devoid of flabbiness, looked almost shrunken in comparison with his powerfully built arms. They were long, with big, calloused hands, and though a cream poet's shirt hid most of this, his sleeves were rolled back to halfway up his impressive forearms. His physique was a practicality, not the result of intention. He did a lot of heavy lifting aboard ships, being one of the biggest, and the more muscular he got, the more people expected him to move crap for them all the time. Vicious cycle. It was actually pretty annoying.
He was tall, and his padded hairstyle made him seem quite a bit taller. The black English-African had a head full of thick brown dreads, bleached a few shades lighter than his skin by the sun. Each dread was abnormally fat, the thickness of three of his fingers, and they had blunt edges, as though they had recently been cut. Even freshly cut, they hung to below his shoulder blades, and he tied them back with a scrap of fluttery red cloth. What was truly interesting about his hair, though, was the amount of feathers that were tied into it. Most feathers were brown, black, or white, but there were also some vibrant parrot feathers in there, they were tied into his dreads, along with some beads and other jangley bits and bobs. Tied back like that, it gave the impression of a molting bird with its crest feathers down.
His attire was also odd, being that he wore simple loose black leggings with an egyptian-style covering. It was a large red piece of fabric, wrapped behind him and then tied in a drape in front in two narrow flaps that hung past his knees. His boots, instead of being pirate in nature, were instead more like Samurai shoes without the split toe, and their fabric wrapped in a textured way midway up his calves. The pants were tucked into these, and his shirt was tucked into his pants, beneath the sarong. His unusual dress gave him almost a kind of elegance, especially when worn by someone with such an intelligent, high-cheekboned face."
You like? Call me. ;D
Last edited by OhGodOfWriting; 03-07-2013 at 01:30 PM.
Welcome to the guild~!
You write something as fluent as that and then it ends with... nothing special? You write well enough for me to read through an entire book, assuming the story gets interesting. I started looking forward to the encounter with the captain. I suppose that is the basis of a hook. Now I find myself slightly disappointed that the ‘sample’ didn’t reach that far. … Myum.
In any case. The title of this thread caught my attention, which is amusing considering I am hardly counted among the most skilled writers around. It appears you found this place the same way I did. Welcome, OhGodOfWriting. Tip, if you wanted to be called ‘Eliza’ (much cuter, by the way) you should probably have used that instead, because a name and a thread like this IS intimidating the masses. XD
So, for that text you wrote, I’d almost call it a little bit too descriptive if something like that is possible. I don’t really mind, but it drags on for a while. Sometimes imagination is better used to fill up rather than possibly overload the information. But it is definitely better than the reversed. I am still yet unsure if you deserve the name “God Of Writing”, considering the one spot in your post where you failed to write a capital letter at the start of the sentence. But you are certainly above average.
Welcome to the Guild. I hope you can find the roleplay partners of your dreams.
Thanks, Platinum. That was actually just an intro post, not a short story...so I was basically just introducing my character. But I appreciate your thoughts! I am mostly just here to find the best writers there are so that I can write with them. I am having trouble finding them, however. Hence the silly title and stuff. ^^ Thanks for saying hi!
Ah, so it was a roleplay taking place on that boat and they were gathering the cast… I assume. Very well. That is acceptable.
Hm, I realize that you’re here to write with people, but I thought I should mention that this place has a competition called ‘Writer of the Month’ which takes place, well, once every month. I think. If you want to prove yourself, you might be able to do so there. Though this is a little bad a time since the last date of submitting entries for this month was yesterday. Hm. Ah, well. Just thought I'd mention.
I am unsure what makes a good writer according to you, but yes. I can imagine that. I mean, not only does a writer need to get through the sheer intimidation of the task you make satisfying you sound like, they need to be available and interested as well. Writers around here has a habit of filling themselves up with as much as they can handle, and quite quickly at that. Nevertheless.
I hope you find what you’re looking for.
I would have taken your challenge myself, but unfortunately I do not qualify since I am unable to post several times a week, and sometimes even once a week. This is due to my choice of lifestyle, apparent should you check my signature. Also, I am frankly uncertain if I would qualify anyway, since you have some lofty conditions. In any case. I hope you find the one with both the skill and time to satisfy you. Good luck on your search.