Name: Bejo
Normal or Freak: Normal
I'd like my character to be a harpist, or any other string instrumentalist. His performance would heavily involve his exceptional dexterity and finesse, whether it be scamming guests with cards, cups, etc.
This seems very sandbox-y and I like it.
Didos Member
STATUS: youtu.be/zO5Isdi5D0E 7 yrs ago
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- Old Guild Username: Didos
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I'm interested, as well.
"Ishay, Ishay..."
As Tama repeated it, his voice grew softer and softer. The name was familiar, and one he had only heard of fairly recently. In his head, the dots were connecting. The way he's dressed, his language, his complexion, his name...
"Yes, sir. Ishay!" Tama had a hunch, and he could only assume, but he was pretty confident in what was running through his head. "Please, join me," he said, as he gestured to the seat across from him.
The waitress served him his burbon and Tama politely asked for another glass for his guest. "So, Ishay, you may voice any inquiry you have for me, because I have potentially hundreds for you."
As Tama repeated it, his voice grew softer and softer. The name was familiar, and one he had only heard of fairly recently. In his head, the dots were connecting. The way he's dressed, his language, his complexion, his name...
"Yes, sir. Ishay!" Tama had a hunch, and he could only assume, but he was pretty confident in what was running through his head. "Please, join me," he said, as he gestured to the seat across from him.
The waitress served him his burbon and Tama politely asked for another glass for his guest. "So, Ishay, you may voice any inquiry you have for me, because I have potentially hundreds for you."
Don't die on me!
After stretching, the team separated for drills. The freshmen definitely had talent, but it would take much more time and practice before any of them would start seeing field time. The new additions to the offense were the "golden boys" form across the nation, but the dynamic was greatly lacking. College ball is nothing like high school. The same could be said for the defense, except those boys were making bolder moves. Even during the first practice, these guys were playing as if they were on a mission. Shit talk followed every hard hit, and Coach Carriel applauded the enthusiasm. Rafa wasn't all for it, and a mixture of interest from the talent on the field and frustration from the Freshmen's cockiness boiled in him.
Through practice, Rafa was able to watch his backup's fuck-up and the Freshman Bustamante lay out Colin. Even after the follow-up play and Colin's TD, he still wondered if Bustamante would still have been able to do it. Off to the side, Rafa and Coach Carriel exchanged a couple words, and both agreed for a little show before the end of practice: the starting offense vs. a predominantly Freshman defense led by Brick.
Rafa called the play, and both sides fell into place. He saw his tight end to his left, and McKenna lined up in the gap before him. His fullback stood behind to his left, and Adam to his right. Both his receivers were to his left, with Colin behind the line. These were technicalities, though. This was the play that got them into the post-season last year.
The center snapped the ball, and Rafa already knew where this one was going. The tight end moved forward past the line, but McKenna gave the guard a slip and could see him approaching. Rafa jerked his head to his FB and shouted "light him up!". In his sights, he could see Brick ready to lay out the TE and Rafa re-audibled and made a 25-yard pass to Colin before the tackle by Bustamante.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the FB fly backwards towards him. Rafa stepped aside as McKenna toppled over the monster. Rafa was furious that a Freshman managed to flat-back his FB, and the shit talk that followed only aggravated it. He helped his FB get back up on his feet, and was ready for a second go. He was bent on some form of retaliation or validation.
But, Coach Carriel blew the whistle. He gave a little congratulations to the Freshmen that made it here, expressed hopes for the season, and ended it with the typical, semi-joking "Don't fuck up my streak".
In the locker room, Rafa lightened up a bit. He was ready to get back to the Watchtower and relax in his very-much deserved Captain's room. It was essentially the master bedroom, and had a doped-out full modern bath to itself. He was surprised Bustamante got a room in there and not in one of the Freshman dorms, but he supposed it was part of the agreement to secure the kid.
"Party at the Watchtower tonight!" announced Rafa. His voice echoed through the locker room, and a cheer erupted. He turned towards Adam and Brick, who had lockers adjacent to his: "You ready for the biddies tonight? Cheer team has been here all summer, and I'mma get the Alpha Phi's and DG's that are still around to come through."
Through practice, Rafa was able to watch his backup's fuck-up and the Freshman Bustamante lay out Colin. Even after the follow-up play and Colin's TD, he still wondered if Bustamante would still have been able to do it. Off to the side, Rafa and Coach Carriel exchanged a couple words, and both agreed for a little show before the end of practice: the starting offense vs. a predominantly Freshman defense led by Brick.
Rafa called the play, and both sides fell into place. He saw his tight end to his left, and McKenna lined up in the gap before him. His fullback stood behind to his left, and Adam to his right. Both his receivers were to his left, with Colin behind the line. These were technicalities, though. This was the play that got them into the post-season last year.
The center snapped the ball, and Rafa already knew where this one was going. The tight end moved forward past the line, but McKenna gave the guard a slip and could see him approaching. Rafa jerked his head to his FB and shouted "light him up!". In his sights, he could see Brick ready to lay out the TE and Rafa re-audibled and made a 25-yard pass to Colin before the tackle by Bustamante.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the FB fly backwards towards him. Rafa stepped aside as McKenna toppled over the monster. Rafa was furious that a Freshman managed to flat-back his FB, and the shit talk that followed only aggravated it. He helped his FB get back up on his feet, and was ready for a second go. He was bent on some form of retaliation or validation.
But, Coach Carriel blew the whistle. He gave a little congratulations to the Freshmen that made it here, expressed hopes for the season, and ended it with the typical, semi-joking "Don't fuck up my streak".
In the locker room, Rafa lightened up a bit. He was ready to get back to the Watchtower and relax in his very-much deserved Captain's room. It was essentially the master bedroom, and had a doped-out full modern bath to itself. He was surprised Bustamante got a room in there and not in one of the Freshman dorms, but he supposed it was part of the agreement to secure the kid.
"Party at the Watchtower tonight!" announced Rafa. His voice echoed through the locker room, and a cheer erupted. He turned towards Adam and Brick, who had lockers adjacent to his: "You ready for the biddies tonight? Cheer team has been here all summer, and I'mma get the Alpha Phi's and DG's that are still around to come through."
No worries! So long as the story continues.
QueenOfTheBee said
Why not a Richard Sherman/Michael Crabtree sort of thing with the CB and wide receiver?
He's a cocky Freshman. He'll have time to piss us all off.
thegreenleafe said
Didos how do you feel about the best QB and the best CB having a rivalry that grows out cockiness about their abilities.
I like it, and your improv.
Don't be afraid to push the story forward in your posts, everybody! Can't just sit on a scene waiting for all of us to cycle through it, just don't get too far ahead!
MUG said
Name: Brick “Hit Stick” Newell
Looks good to me. Approved!
Micah sat up in... not his bed. He looked over his shoulder to see a pale-skinned beauty resting beside him. She shifted a little, letting her blonde hair fall over her simple, cute face. She definitely wasn't the type he would usually score with, but it wasn't a totally uncommon occurrence. His head throbbed, and his brain was completely fried from the night before. He wasn't going to think too much of it, only because it managed to hurt so much.
He turned, allowing his legs to move off the edge of the bed, and felt something against his hand. There was a letter under the pillow. Well, it's on my side... He slipped it out, and saw its print.
He quietly stood on his feet, feeling the stumble as he tried to physically stabilize himself. The hardwood flooring felt cool under his feet, and he slowly gathered his things, dressed, and put himself together. He was not about to be seen like a mess in public, and looking as normal and put-together as possible was a great way for him to hide the shame of having to sneak around in this broad's apartment to make a sneaky getaway.
As Micah exited the building, the sun pierced through his eyelids. Should've looked for my damn aviators. Oh-fucking-well. He could feel his heart beating up in his throat, but refrained from vomiting right there.
I guess I have work tonight. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, preferably a suit and not the stained club attire currently on him. He was unsure of where he was, but was confident he'd find his way home. He looked down at his watch: 2:00.
By 3:30, Micah found his way to a proper bathroom. He took a quick cold shower in hopes of a desperate recovery, smoked a bit of bud to relieve his continued headache, and stuck on a suit and black tie. He tucked his revolver in his pants, and kept some extra rounds on some clips, which he tucked inside his blazer. It was still bright outside, and he nabbed a pair of sunglasses off the resident on his way out. The man sat naked, tied to a chair. Surprising this shit fits me.
At 4:30, he began making his way towards the Museum.
He turned, allowing his legs to move off the edge of the bed, and felt something against his hand. There was a letter under the pillow. Well, it's on my side... He slipped it out, and saw its print.
He quietly stood on his feet, feeling the stumble as he tried to physically stabilize himself. The hardwood flooring felt cool under his feet, and he slowly gathered his things, dressed, and put himself together. He was not about to be seen like a mess in public, and looking as normal and put-together as possible was a great way for him to hide the shame of having to sneak around in this broad's apartment to make a sneaky getaway.
As Micah exited the building, the sun pierced through his eyelids. Should've looked for my damn aviators. Oh-fucking-well. He could feel his heart beating up in his throat, but refrained from vomiting right there.
I guess I have work tonight. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, preferably a suit and not the stained club attire currently on him. He was unsure of where he was, but was confident he'd find his way home. He looked down at his watch: 2:00.
By 3:30, Micah found his way to a proper bathroom. He took a quick cold shower in hopes of a desperate recovery, smoked a bit of bud to relieve his continued headache, and stuck on a suit and black tie. He tucked his revolver in his pants, and kept some extra rounds on some clips, which he tucked inside his blazer. It was still bright outside, and he nabbed a pair of sunglasses off the resident on his way out. The man sat naked, tied to a chair. Surprising this shit fits me.
At 4:30, he began making his way towards the Museum.
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