Crap I forgot to subscribe to this. D'oh!
Mistiel
Banned
Edgier than a Sphere
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
- Posts: 628 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 18
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Username history
- Mistiel 8 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
I have come up with the ultimate pansexual name! Drum roll please! Roryana. You can thank me later.
1
like
6 yrs ago
TFW you realize your SW character somehow turned into an anime character. I didn't even use an anime avatar. Damn you Japan! Freaking brainwashed me.
2
likes
6 yrs ago
Look away, look away. My profile will ruin your evening, your whole life, and your day. Every single pixel is nothing but dismay, so look away, look away, Look Away!
3
likes
6 yrs ago
Ghost mode disabled.
4
likes
6 yrs ago
As of the end of March, I'll be a fully trained 5e dungeonmaster. Gird your loins, termagants and knaves!
5
likes
Bio
Look away.
Most Recent Posts
Sorry, I wouldn't know how to be a furry. :/
Can't steal something that was offered free of charge lol. Just bein' friendly!
@KatherinWinter
Really? You don't remember me from that other camp RP you GMed? Granted I've changed avatars since I left that, but dang. O,o
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@everyone: I find it interesting and mildly amusing how almost all of us chose nearly the same appearance demographic for the students. :D
Really? You don't remember me from that other camp RP you GMed? Granted I've changed avatars since I left that, but dang. O,o
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@everyone: I find it interesting and mildly amusing how almost all of us chose nearly the same appearance demographic for the students. :D
Micah
Micah, clad in his supremely uncomfortable "uniform", sat in the back with his feet propped up on an empty desk in front of him. He thought about saying something along the lines of 'Yeah, yeah we get the spiel. So what are you gonna teach us, Insert-Clever-Insult here?' For once in his life, he wisely decided to hold off, though his reasoning was not as wise. Best to behave on the first day so it might open up more opportunities later. He blew his stringy bangs out of his face. Why the hell didn't he get a haircut before coming to this place? Nothing like being shaggy when you planned your future rule-bending.
God, this was turning into one giant Breakfast Club meme. He made sure the pack of Trident spearmint gum he'd snuck in was secured snugly in his left Air Jordan 11. Good thing I don't know what Barry Manilow looks like, he thought smugly, unable to wipe the smirk off his face as he folded his arms and proceeded to stare down their "teacher". Staaang, Ryan Reynolds would be proud of those cheekbones! Micah wondered how much this guy was getting paid or if he was some celebrity volunteer. "Beautiful people" like that almost always had a story to explain why they were down with the mortals. Not that Micah was bad looking, but he wouldn't classify anybody else in the room as being classic Hollywood runway material either.
A'ight, I'll see if I can't rustle up another person or two for you. I'll have my people call your people. :P
Name: Micah Jefferies
Nicknames: Mikey (easiest way to piss him off)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Personality: Arrogant and spoiled, Micah comes from a family overflowing with money. His only care in the world is for getting his trust fund at age 18, but he finds himself with a choice between jail or a reformation camp when his party-hard lifestyle finally catches up with him and he is arrested for drug possession and usage as a minor. Naturally, despite thinking of himself as a suave, tough guy Micah chooses the camp over jail, thinking it'll be a cinch. Naivete is definitely strong with this one and it's time to find out just how surprised he'll be and if he learns anything from his time here.
Appearance:
Why you are here: This was his second time in trouble with the law, first for drugs. His parents didn't know how he'd react when the judge gave him two choices, jail or camp, and they stoically respect his decision and hope their wild child son reforms. They never really had much time for him as they're both well-to-do in the world of finance. Micah is SUPPOSED to be here to become a model citizen and maybe pick up a tad bit of humility and life experience along the way. He currently just views it as an opportunity for goofing off and a lengthy vacation.
How long you've been at Redwood: Less than a year
Other: He can't swim. He seems relatively hard to scare, but don't let that stop you from trying.
Nicknames: Mikey (easiest way to piss him off)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Personality: Arrogant and spoiled, Micah comes from a family overflowing with money. His only care in the world is for getting his trust fund at age 18, but he finds himself with a choice between jail or a reformation camp when his party-hard lifestyle finally catches up with him and he is arrested for drug possession and usage as a minor. Naturally, despite thinking of himself as a suave, tough guy Micah chooses the camp over jail, thinking it'll be a cinch. Naivete is definitely strong with this one and it's time to find out just how surprised he'll be and if he learns anything from his time here.
Appearance:
Why you are here: This was his second time in trouble with the law, first for drugs. His parents didn't know how he'd react when the judge gave him two choices, jail or camp, and they stoically respect his decision and hope their wild child son reforms. They never really had much time for him as they're both well-to-do in the world of finance. Micah is SUPPOSED to be here to become a model citizen and maybe pick up a tad bit of humility and life experience along the way. He currently just views it as an opportunity for goofing off and a lengthy vacation.
How long you've been at Redwood: Less than a year
Other: He can't swim. He seems relatively hard to scare, but don't let that stop you from trying.
@Ermine @Ms Ravenwinter
Ceria watched as the bizarre tiefling turned on HER rather than Yvah, a gentle reprimand that stung almost as much as the couple of thorns poking out of the tiefling's homemade, she hesitated to call it hair in her mind at first, floral crown. Daisy's "hair" reminded Ceria more of the vines she had had outside her bedroom window in her family's tree in the elvish home forest. Chip immediately scampered from her shoulder up atop her head and began to sniff curiously at the crown and bat at it with his tiny paws. The squirrel's expression regarded the tiefling with something akin to newfound respect and joy.
Afterward, Ceria re-approached Araerys and Yvah who had gone back inside the church, forcing a somewhat pleasant smile on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I've just - hic- been nearly burned to a crisp by that scaly bastard and am in a - hic - VERY bad mood right now! Now if you'll - hic - excuse me, I have something to attend to." Ceria marched, rigid and stiff as a board despite her stress-induced hiccups, up to the front of the cathedral where the acolyte's remains lay. Her arrow had turned into a flower sprouting in the center of the poor girl's breastbone, a bright yellow daffodil that Ceria recognized instantly as she knelt to examine the body. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, eyes wet and voice catching. "I didn't want it to be like this. I just wanted to....wanted to t-talk." She swallowed the formidable lump in her throat and, as gently as possible, patted the girl down, even rolling her over slowly, to see if there was anything of value to their party's quest.
When the elf was done, she rolled the fallen acolyte girl back over, repositioned the flower so it lay between the girl's hands, and closed the girl's eyes while simultaneously ripping away the remaining vines from around the pale white column of her throat. After a moment's hesitation, she unstuck the pretty floral crown from her tangled, singed locks and placed it even more gently on the acolyte's mane of brown hair, still shiny and full of luster despite belonging to someone who had been dead for several minutes now. Ceria sniffled and Chip hopped back down onto her right shoulder and batted solemnly at a tear just below her eye. Upon finding a strange amulet, the elf lifted it up and stowed it in her travel pouch. She then stood and bowed her head over the girl, intoning a quiet elven farewell.
Slowly, Ceria backed away all the way down the cathedral's main aisle until she backed into Daisy, eyes still gazing up to the front of the church. For a moment, her mind was far far away and she didn't realize that she'd started leaning on the poor tiefling like a wall. Doing a quick, embarrassed about-face, she muttered, "Th-thank you for the gift. It h-h-helped s-s-someone at least. It was p-p-pretty." She viciously swiped at both eyes, then flung a few singed locks of stray hair back over one shoulder with equal force. She inwardly cursed herself for being a stammering idiot, but she half-stamped a foot to berate herself. She would NOT cry in front of this bunch. She refused! Murderer.... a dark sounding voice that was not her own whispered in her head. Murderer, murderer, murderer....
Ceria watched as the bizarre tiefling turned on HER rather than Yvah, a gentle reprimand that stung almost as much as the couple of thorns poking out of the tiefling's homemade, she hesitated to call it hair in her mind at first, floral crown. Daisy's "hair" reminded Ceria more of the vines she had had outside her bedroom window in her family's tree in the elvish home forest. Chip immediately scampered from her shoulder up atop her head and began to sniff curiously at the crown and bat at it with his tiny paws. The squirrel's expression regarded the tiefling with something akin to newfound respect and joy.
Afterward, Ceria re-approached Araerys and Yvah who had gone back inside the church, forcing a somewhat pleasant smile on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I've just - hic- been nearly burned to a crisp by that scaly bastard and am in a - hic - VERY bad mood right now! Now if you'll - hic - excuse me, I have something to attend to." Ceria marched, rigid and stiff as a board despite her stress-induced hiccups, up to the front of the cathedral where the acolyte's remains lay. Her arrow had turned into a flower sprouting in the center of the poor girl's breastbone, a bright yellow daffodil that Ceria recognized instantly as she knelt to examine the body. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, eyes wet and voice catching. "I didn't want it to be like this. I just wanted to....wanted to t-talk." She swallowed the formidable lump in her throat and, as gently as possible, patted the girl down, even rolling her over slowly, to see if there was anything of value to their party's quest.
When the elf was done, she rolled the fallen acolyte girl back over, repositioned the flower so it lay between the girl's hands, and closed the girl's eyes while simultaneously ripping away the remaining vines from around the pale white column of her throat. After a moment's hesitation, she unstuck the pretty floral crown from her tangled, singed locks and placed it even more gently on the acolyte's mane of brown hair, still shiny and full of luster despite belonging to someone who had been dead for several minutes now. Ceria sniffled and Chip hopped back down onto her right shoulder and batted solemnly at a tear just below her eye. Upon finding a strange amulet, the elf lifted it up and stowed it in her travel pouch. She then stood and bowed her head over the girl, intoning a quiet elven farewell.
Slowly, Ceria backed away all the way down the cathedral's main aisle until she backed into Daisy, eyes still gazing up to the front of the church. For a moment, her mind was far far away and she didn't realize that she'd started leaning on the poor tiefling like a wall. Doing a quick, embarrassed about-face, she muttered, "Th-thank you for the gift. It h-h-helped s-s-someone at least. It was p-p-pretty." She viciously swiped at both eyes, then flung a few singed locks of stray hair back over one shoulder with equal force. She inwardly cursed herself for being a stammering idiot, but she half-stamped a foot to berate herself. She would NOT cry in front of this bunch. She refused! Murderer.... a dark sounding voice that was not her own whispered in her head. Murderer, murderer, murderer....
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