Decipher

The Family Business

Name: Jules Bright

Concept: Spoiled expatriate prince

Role: Hero

Age: 16

Sex and Orientation: Male, Bisexual

Appearance: A mess of red hair, big black eyes with long lashes, fancy-looking yet poorly maintained clothing often with an inconveniently heavy crimson cape trailing his movements. His clothes are usually following the usual princey burgundy/red/gold palette, with a sword hanging by his side.

Personality: Happy-go-lucky and very reckless, sometimes a playful archetype of the “It is I!” personality, he’s the kind of person that would commit felonies just for a laugh between friends. He did, actually, but you can’t ask him about that. Coming from his upbringing, he has little compassion for the common folk, regarding them as inferior, though he outwardly treats everyone with an equally dismissive enthusiasm. Before he even knows your name he’ll act as if he’s known you for ages. Others can sometimes describe him as generous, but he’s just got a lot of money to spare. It’s understandable, but not very good long-term planning on the exile’s behalf. He’s a good storyteller, unless you have the mental age of a rational and cynical adult. Then he’s just sort of stupid.

+: Optimistic, Brave, Cheerful, Adaptive, Friendly, Lucky
-: Reckless, Whiny, Ambiguous, Indulgent, Mischievous, Narcissistic .

Background: Jules was born the first son to the King of a prominent enough kingdom far, far North of where he is now. In his youth he was a troublemaking child, although as hated as he was by nannies and serfs everyone knew who they were dealing with. His father was one of those nepotistic kings with enough power to be biased in the favor of a nine year old, so nobody was in the right place to complain. In his youth he threw rocks at messengers from the balcony. As he grew up he lifted ladies’ skirts and released dogs at merchants. A real head-ache for his parents, yet they were either too busy or too nepotistic to punish the young noble for his deeds.

Only when it was a last resort, only when he’d actively attacked the neighboring kingdom’s visiting minister, did he first suffer from the consequences of his actions. Banishment, with pension money sent bimonthly – objectively it was to be a leisurely sentence, but he protested fiercely until he had to be forcibly deported. Within the last months he was sulky, but it wasn’t in his nature to not ultimately be engulfed in adventure and heroism. That’s what a prince was supposed to do, exiled or not, and plus it proved to be fun! Prince Jules kept the title (clearly, as he flaunts it) and went off hunting for experience, bragging about his achievements, demanding recognition. Hilarious, as the only thing keeping him alive is the money sent to him occasionally, but he never mentions where it comes from anymore, feigning independence, swinging his sword, claiming he was self-made and then charging at monsters that could eat him alive if he were not trained beforehand.

Skills: He can’t do any magic, at all. He is speedy and in good shape, with enough power in his ligaments to land a blow effectively. His eyes are very keen, yet he’s abandoned archery. Apparently it’s just not cool enough for him – he likes charging, literally, at the enemy. His stamina is weak despite his good evasiveness. He can avoid pain, but once it hits him it hits hard, as his skin is not used to anything harsh.

Equipment: A bow and a couple of arrows that he rarely uses, and a medium lenght intricately made sword that he uses for absolutely every thing (peeling fruit, opening letters...). Has no armor, simply because he doesn’t like being uncomfortable, but his boots and gloves are made of very tough, expensive leather.

Parent: King Geoffroi o f Brightskye, Queen Beatrice of Brightskye, both unimpressive but pretty generic royals.

Inheritance: Lots and lots of money, delivered regularly and secretively. He is fairly certain the horseman that delivers it follows him around sometimes, being sort of a bodyguard figure, and he is quite certain that sometimes this individual interferes with his battles, but he likes winning anyways. As long as nobody knows.

The Dark Half

I know you said patient and relaxed but since it was directed towards my character... idk, I just figured since I didn't have a life I should reply now. Or do we not reply before all the entrance posts are done? I'm so sorry guys I'm such a n00b

The Dark Half

Rain struggled as discretely as possible. The ribbons were expensive in that frail, delicate kind of way and his fingers were already tearing away the tiny silk threads from each other – he had not even really thought of the fabric as being made of tiny threads, even though with close inspection it obviously was. Before his inexperienced tinkering they were more like thin bands of soft metal, with an oddly mercury-like quality on the surface. As he struggled to resolve his predicament as quickly as possible a playful voice lifted his head like a bullet sound. It didn’t take him long to identify the owner of the words, and the first thing he did was look away (never downwards!), in the most apathetic way possible, even though he knew the individual must have seen his initial surprise. He was not by any means caught in the worst position possible, but Rain noticed the differences between his own attire and the stranger’s. And he’s absolutely not complaining, grateful for the simplicity of his assigned clothing, but the connotations he concluded from the situations rose harshly. The school seemed to issue different designs to every student. Again it was the peculiar tightrope between thoughtful and disturbing. Something tells him this would become a running theme.

Lowering the mask, his eyes shot back towards the others’ amber ones. It was a tricky choice whether or not to believe he should stand his ground here – he needed friends before unavoidably finding enemies – but more than one of his options were, at least to the normal pedestrian, paranoid. He spoke solidly, the solidity of the ground beneath ceramic plates held by shaking hands. “I don't need your help! ...If I can’t put it on then I’m probably not meant for it.” Sort of a blatant lie since, however modest the mask’s adornments were, it was practically carved on him. “Do you think it’d be a problem if I didn’t wear a mask in the Masquerade?”, he smirked, approaching the stranger a bit. His intuition tells him not to become enemies with this particular person, though being as he was he teased this decision eagerly. “Maybe I’ll balance you out. Please inform me, what can I learn from the fact that the school deemed you worthy of becoming a seventeenth century French aristocrat?”

He bit the inside of his cheek a bit in fear that it might really be eighteenth century instead and that somehow people remember this from high school, where they’ve probably learnt a lot more information than him, but his face lit up artificially with comfortable assertiveness, holding his mask on his hip. "That also happened to be in some vampire movie, apparently". His tone was friendly in the core, in a deliberate attempt to not actually offend the other too much, but if one were really good at reading into people they would recognize this just as trying to seem cool and indie. Which it was, of course, but even the speaker doesn't know that. Rain waited for a response in anticipation.

The Dark Half

camillethegnome said
I finished typing up my post but my wifi spontaneously committed suicide. TT~TT.

Did you save it on a word document? because if not, my condolences for your loss

The Dark Half

I'm so sorry, this was rushed for no reason at all, but I hope it's enough :/

The Dark Half

Rain had not completely settled in mentally with his accommodations yet – at times he’d still wake up and not know where he was. It was a bit strange, as he was a boy accustomed to change before, but the entire experience had been, at least subjectively, pretty damn surreal for him. Colour coding dormitories so rigorously, he thought, was dumb and unnecessary, and he didn’t particularly like the depressing shade of his assigned dorm. He’ll grow out of it. At the moment, though, the striking white of any envelope on his night table stands out very well, with him noticing it immediately when entering the room. He took off his jacket with swift, rehearsed movements, walked over, and tore the letter from its casing. This school apparently prefers private written communication over all the other forms employed in academia – he noted the same thing next to the others’ beds.

A welcome ceremony, that’s nothing out of the ordinary, right? Truly he didn’t know, but he isn’t just going to go around asking how schools work, and he was confident enough of his ability to just figure it all out along the way. His thumbs crumpled the bottom of the paper a bit, as he read it over a second time, making sure he didn’t miss any crucial information. One can be a bit unsure on one’s opinion about the possibility of others marching into his room at any time to leave clothes and messages. This is quite a fancy place; one of those places where this could be entirely standard. Rain reached for the wardrobe handle, and grabbed the new fabric waiting for him. How the light hit it, the entire thing looked eerily uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bet on his own experiences. With its string around the neck was a masquerade mask. It had probably been chosen carefully, as he faintly recognized himself. The blond gazed at the door before untying the knot that held it on top of his new outfit. As he tried it on for the first time, it was as he expected it – the sculpted curves wrapped the top half of his face perfectly.

“Absolutely ridiculous” , he sighed. It was half expected that the mask would be uncomfortable enough for him to toss it aside, but I guess they did intend to host a full-fledged masquerade ball, in which masks were necessary. Nothing too extravagant, luckily: a black mask with a braid pattern under the eyes and small, elegant silver tone decorations between them on the forehead - so he could wear it and just expect that everyone else had to as well. Laying the accessory on his bed, he pulled the tuxedo off the hanger and, before his roommates got back, put it on methodically (or at least, in a way he supposed people put tuxedos on methodically). Surprisingly the attire didn’t choke on any of his limbs – they only had the bare measurements for his uniform, but they surely did a good job in tailoring his upmarket clothing. The strangeness of his life at the moment hit his thoughts again as his hands slid out of the jacket sleeves. “This is a joke. Such a joke.”

And yet he conformed, taking the mask by the ribbon in his left hand and sitting down on the black mattress where it was. Rain stretched to reach for the paper that he had previously scrunched, having to read it one more time. Ten o’clock –more than half an hour from now. He always preferred being prepared early on rather than at the last minute anyways, since before this his life was pretty much built on last resorts and quick decisions. Being early gifts a fake sense of control, and plus, there’s now plenty of time for loitering. Rain stood up and walked out the door to the shared living room, mask in one hand, a ball of wrinkly paper in the other.

Rain stepped out of the room alone, quietly making his way towards the Grand Hall, only now beginning to feel out of place in his bow-tie. The change in atmosphere was baffling once he got there, but his expression was kept the same if just a little bit softer than usual. He stood at the entrance, quickly identifying everything familiar here as a defense against the grandiose unfamiliarity: curtains, flowers, flowers. He felt assured that he wasn’t the first one to come, although he wasn’t going to put on his mask just yet. Standing against the wall a fair distance from the gates he began noticing details and planning out his approaches. Only when he realized how out of place he’d look with a bare face and the very typical, customary tux he was provided once a lot of people were here did he try to strap it on. Maybe he should have kept it from the first time, because the ribbons somehow became a lot harder to knot together the second time around. Rain started, ritualistically, swearing under his breath as he sunk away to examine his mask further. “I don’t belong here. Ridiculous.”

The Dark Half

Leviathan said
Dorms are posted. ^^i didn't know whether to room my Scarlet with anyone so i just put her in a private.

so the assigned room colours are what the names imply right (garnet red, ivory white, sapphire blue, onyx black)?

The Dark Half | Clandestine Reboot

oh my, everyone knows everyone already?

btw are dorms going to be distributed or something? i'm not familiar with these types of roleplay

The Dark Half | Character Bin

Appearance

i couldn't find a drawing corresponding completely, sorry. the realistic photo is more like him (mousey blond hair pushed back etc)

Full name: Rainier Mendoza

Nickname: Rain

Appearance: Standing at about a meter seventy-two, the first thing people notice about Rain is in a mutable order: his slight build, his tightened lips and the verve of his hazel eyes. His uniform is at all times well maintained, and to reinforce this he has a habit of straightening any wrinkle he finds on his sleeves with the other hand. Rain was not born with much strength, but through rigorous training he had managed to get himself in decent shape, and you can see that his knuckles are in contrast to his porcelain skin, bruised and scratched. Overall he gives off the vibe of an annoyed, stifled character.

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Sexuality: Homosexual

Backstory

Rain was born to a poor single mother who both over-coddled and thrashed him about since a young age. Raised amongst other urchins and alley kids, he grew up rough-and-tumble, against his own quieter nature. He did not like being led and thus never joined the pseudo-gangs of his grammar school, making him seem like an easy target, but after a few fights the other boys learned that he was no coward and that he seldom had pocket money. They left him alone, some of them even befriending him, although he spent most of his early childhood helping out his mother with tending to strangers’ gardens. This left him very sensitive to nature – his favorite flower is the Mock Orange, and he is familiar with many botanical terms.

As he grew up into his early teens his mother was arrested for theft of one of her patrons’ silver axe. Whether or not she was rightfully convicted stays a mystery, but Rain is convinced that she wasn’t, and stayed vengeful towards the family. Ironically they legally took him in as an adopted son after the incident, and kept telling him how unfortunate he was to have such a fiend for a mother. Around the age of fourteen he finally joined a crew of teenagers he used to know: their playground pranks have become full-on extortion and burglary now. He was the youngest of the group, but he proved capable and his quiet steps were useful. Through great effort he became a well-respected member of his neighborhood’s adolescent crime community, so he didn’t have to bear being just another crony anymore. One day, after a mistakenly in-depth talk with his buddies about his hatred for his host family, an older boy gave him a vial and told him to abandon them for the streets and to be… very, very thorough about it. Under the pressure of familiar eyes staring at him, he accepted to attempt this. It did not go well, as he shook and did not gather the guts to complete the task. The patriarch decided to be nice and did not call the police on him, having forged a bond, but he can still feel the cold disappointed gaze of the scum who took his mother away from him as the man told him to go.

And then he went, with a scalding feeling in his stomach. He judged himself on his short walk out through the family’s gorgeous garden of vines and roses, staring at his footsteps, and he deemed himself weak. Rain’s entire body was suddenly animated with vague hatred that he couldn’t distinguish the target of. In his late teens he read books and learnt as much as he could from his few friends still in school, then trained his strength, agility and endurance purely by becoming the de facto leader of his band of friends, organizing petty yet lucrative crime. He was hardworking, and he had a tough shell, but in his scalding stomach he still felt weak, and maybe he is. At the end he only organized illegal poker and raked in the income, mugged old ladies in the night, stole watches, intimidated the young who couldn’t do anything about it – it’s not like he ever poured that vial.

With his professional delinquency he stayed in multiple hotels usually a few months at a time, but he never received courier. On the day he did, he was alarmed, paranoid, and hesitated to read the contents of it. Rainier Mendoza, his name, written in fancy italics – and what the letter said was so improbable the first thing he thought of was danger. Or a joke. But after a few letters were sent to him consecutively Rain started taking things seriously in a different way, and he asked around about the academy. The information intrigued him, and so he decided to come just to see, alert and a bit fidgety at the gate. What if this was just all a ploy to hurt him, or even worse, to embarrass him? With dignified strides he stepped through the gates full of doubt. Lucky for him, and a bit shockingly, it was the real deal.

Positive Traits: Determined, Intelligent, Organized, Loyal, Empathetic, Straightforward, Reactive

Negative Traits: Tense, Self-absorbed, Vengeful, Hasty, Skeptical, Violent, Self-denying

Switchville

Aw I missed it. I like the idea.