My char isn't interested in the little shitstorm that's about to unfold in the bar. I think he is about to go upstairs and fade to black or something.
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- oakman 10 yrs ago
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Back to writing
9 yrs ago
Wiz Khalifa and Written Role Playing. Because fuck labels and stereo typing.
Bio
Hello, Oakman over here, Role Playing since 2006.
I can RP anything, from high fantasy, to advanced military, to sci-fi with all its glorious sub-genres.
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What's gonna happen now? It is all getting western tension up in the Saloon, are we gonna witness a mexican standoff? *.*
Another flank of men entered the saloon, people were slowly populating the tavern like nocturnal owls. Bats, Shelly thought, bats looking for all ways to disgrace the lord's blessings with the most devious of sins.
He gasped when an acceptably amicable and pretty service girl approached him.
"Evenin' luv," he curled his lips into a wicked grin behind his mask, "lookin' extra juicy tonight."
"Would love to serve you a drink, evening, before even entertaining the thought of bedding you." She had a rusty voice, one that is affected by the desperate paces of Sand Flats, he thought.
"'Tilbe the finest red wine you folks got 'round this sorry Saloon. No spits, no moonshine, I can tell." He looked at his pistols, making sure she noticed him glaring his scarlet eyes with a threatening tone.
The service girl was gone, he looked over his shoulders. He appreciated her frame, lovely he thought for a secondary amusement. He was however more into her boss. She had a better figure he could mingle with, he entertained the thought while her eyes were busy with her suspiciously calm and merry patrons.
Shelly turned his head back to his table and was amused to find a chubby whore, goes by the name of Marlett, sitting in front of him and squeezing her breasts with her shoulders.
"I like." Shelly simply stated, his voice hollow and old. Marlett smiled and reached her arm to touch Shelly's skull mask. He allowed it, she sensed its intricate carvings. He had a sort of high so he kept allowing her to run her fingers over his eyesockets and brushing his teeth.
"Looks real sweety," she said.
"It is."
She giggled while she was sneakily looking at his groin.
"You like?"
"Mmhaa" She retreated to her seat.
"One drink babe. And we up for a sweet sweet night."
He gasped when an acceptably amicable and pretty service girl approached him.
"Evenin' luv," he curled his lips into a wicked grin behind his mask, "lookin' extra juicy tonight."
"Would love to serve you a drink, evening, before even entertaining the thought of bedding you." She had a rusty voice, one that is affected by the desperate paces of Sand Flats, he thought.
"'Tilbe the finest red wine you folks got 'round this sorry Saloon. No spits, no moonshine, I can tell." He looked at his pistols, making sure she noticed him glaring his scarlet eyes with a threatening tone.
The service girl was gone, he looked over his shoulders. He appreciated her frame, lovely he thought for a secondary amusement. He was however more into her boss. She had a better figure he could mingle with, he entertained the thought while her eyes were busy with her suspiciously calm and merry patrons.
Shelly turned his head back to his table and was amused to find a chubby whore, goes by the name of Marlett, sitting in front of him and squeezing her breasts with her shoulders.
"I like." Shelly simply stated, his voice hollow and old. Marlett smiled and reached her arm to touch Shelly's skull mask. He allowed it, she sensed its intricate carvings. He had a sort of high so he kept allowing her to run her fingers over his eyesockets and brushing his teeth.
"Looks real sweety," she said.
"It is."
She giggled while she was sneakily looking at his groin.
"You like?"
"Mmhaa" She retreated to her seat.
"One drink babe. And we up for a sweet sweet night."
Reserving a spot, am thinking to do a new race. Think Space-Orcs kinda race.
Posted, this rp looks great so far.
Shelly has been traveling for days through the dry deserts, on foot of course since he lost his rented horse in a not-very-profitable raid. He cursed his employer for skipping information concerning the would be raided party, in his head of course. The job was done, he got his fair share of reward and he was headed for Sand Flats to rest for eternity. Well a couple of days. His body screamed for eternal peace however.
Thirst was growing like cancer in his mind, his throat wasn't all that dried up as the cursed flat ground he trudged. The suffocating skull mask was keeping off dust, but the sweat inside was keeping his rage constantly and ever exponentially increasing. The crisscrossed leather holsters were starting to slice through his ass, he needed to really rest in the most literal of sense of the word.
Sand Flats. Hell is not so far away from here. The sign read the first, he assumed the latter to be scribbled on the sign just outside the dead looking town. There were a couple horses outside what looked like a cheerful Saloon, he needed the comfort of a bed or two. A moan and a flesh perhaps. He needed a sour drink to quench his abnormal thirst first, maybe even get intoxicated beyond what his self conscious persona allowed to keep up his ill-seen baddassery.
Shelly the Interloper, regular hat, scary Indian fashioned skull mask, huge unnecessarily flamboyant scarlet scarf, and black bloodied boots waltzed into the Saloon. Subtle music was playing, something classic he thought.
He walked slowly to a table by the piano, he saw some ruckus going on by the bar which he chose to ignore. He hated, he utterly despised cards, magicians and men who looked at his possible bedmates. He pulled a chair and sat, not forgetting to untie the pistols holster and placing them on the table with a resounding thud.
"What's a poor chap gotsa be doin' to earn a drink 'round here?" He yelled in a politely rude tone, staring lustfully at one of the chubby whores by the window.
Thirst was growing like cancer in his mind, his throat wasn't all that dried up as the cursed flat ground he trudged. The suffocating skull mask was keeping off dust, but the sweat inside was keeping his rage constantly and ever exponentially increasing. The crisscrossed leather holsters were starting to slice through his ass, he needed to really rest in the most literal of sense of the word.
Sand Flats. Hell is not so far away from here. The sign read the first, he assumed the latter to be scribbled on the sign just outside the dead looking town. There were a couple horses outside what looked like a cheerful Saloon, he needed the comfort of a bed or two. A moan and a flesh perhaps. He needed a sour drink to quench his abnormal thirst first, maybe even get intoxicated beyond what his self conscious persona allowed to keep up his ill-seen baddassery.
Shelly the Interloper, regular hat, scary Indian fashioned skull mask, huge unnecessarily flamboyant scarlet scarf, and black bloodied boots waltzed into the Saloon. Subtle music was playing, something classic he thought.
He walked slowly to a table by the piano, he saw some ruckus going on by the bar which he chose to ignore. He hated, he utterly despised cards, magicians and men who looked at his possible bedmates. He pulled a chair and sat, not forgetting to untie the pistols holster and placing them on the table with a resounding thud.
"What's a poor chap gotsa be doin' to earn a drink 'round here?" He yelled in a politely rude tone, staring lustfully at one of the chubby whores by the window.
NAME: The Interloper. Shelly.
AGE: Estimated from voice, 40's.
GENDER: Appears to be a male.
APPEARANCE: Shelly is dressed like any other common adventurer slash bandit that appears on the dry deadlands of the west. Perhaps his most unique, and bizarrely intriguing feature is his semi-realistic skull mask. It appears to be made of solid materials, perhaps the working of Indian magicians. There are holes in the place of the skull's eye sockets that channel Shelly's odd gleaming eyes.
He always wears his long scarlet scarf and carries his two trusted pistols in the leather holsters, criss crossed around his hips. His boots are leather black and smudged with dust and burnt blood.
OCCUPATION: Mercenary, Lone Adventurer.
BIO: Shelly journeyed from the far eastern borders looking for the fabled royal crest hidden somewhere in the western deserts. He stopped by a friendly looking town to rest his weary lungs, and troubled mind, feed his lust for a drink. A damsel's warm insides. (Much to be revealed through flashbacks)
PERSONALITY: TBR.
TALENTS:
Killing People.
Surviving Harsh conditions.
Plays a piano like a boss.
Master Gunslinger.
FLAWS:
Talking to people.
Drinking and sex addict.
Unable to to remove his mask so he looks like a complete douchebag indoors.
NAME: The Interloper. Shelly.
AGE: Estimated from voice, 40's.
GENDER: Appears to be a male.
APPEARANCE: Shelly is dressed like any other common adventurer slash bandit that appears on the dry deadlands of the west. Perhaps his most unique, and bizarrely intriguing feature is his semi-realistic skull mask. It appears to be made of solid materials, perhaps the working of Indian magicians. There are holes in the place of the skull's eye sockets that channel Shelly's odd gleaming eyes.
He always wears his long scarlet scarf and carries his two trusted pistols in the leather holsters, criss crossed around his hips. His boots are leather black and smudged with dust and burnt blood.
OCCUPATION: Mercenary, Lone Adventurer.
BIO: Shelly journeyed from the far eastern borders looking for the fabled royal crest hidden somewhere in the western deserts. He stopped by a friendly looking town to rest his weary lungs, and troubled mind, feed his lust for a drink. A damsel's warm insides. (Much to be revealed through flashbacks)
PERSONALITY: TBR.
TALENTS:
Killing People.
Surviving Harsh conditions.
Plays a piano like a boss.
Master Gunslinger.
FLAWS:
Talking to people.
Drinking and sex addict.
Unable to to remove his mask so he looks like a complete douchebag indoors.
I will have a cs soon, verrry interested.
In
Project Sigma- OOC post is now live - many places still able to be taken
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Absolutely interested.
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