Conor said "You're a fish ah?... I hope fish know how to drive, cause it's either that or I'm returning you to the river."
These one liners.
Ho ho, things are heating up in Kansas City.
teapotshark Member
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: splash13
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 482 (0.12 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- teapotshark 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Pre-Guildfall, 2008. Communication is what makes a lasting roleplay.
Most Recent Posts
These one liners.
Ho ho, things are heating up in Kansas City.
Name: Aveline Ronan.
Age/Race/Gender: 21 year old human female.
Profession: Adventurer.
Appearance:
Armour/Clothing: (Contrary to the picture.) Beneath a basic set of leather armour – a chest and shoulder piece, wrist braces, leather pteruges and boots, Aveline wears a long-sleeved green tunic and wool trousers.
Weaponry: This sword, and a long dagger.
Other Items: A leather folded up and kept beneath her left wrist guard, a silver necklace, pouch of coins tucked into her tunic, satchel filled with basic supplies (food, cloth strips, waterskin).
Skills: Swordsmanship, riding, worldly knowledge, tracking.
Abilities: Aveline has no special powers or magical abilities. Not that she wouldn't mind getting her hands on a magical item or two.
Personality/Goals: On a good day, Aveline is polite, kind and generally pleasant to be around. She has instilled in her a strong moral code and strives to do the right thing wherever possible. She does enjoy taking risks and pushing her limits as well, and finds herself bored without a challenge or something interesting happening. When she has satisfied her need to do something reckless, or fed her curiosity for the day, she likes a good joke, a drink and a story. She likes telling stories, too, but often bends the truth a little to make them more exciting. She's a frequent liar, and a good one at that.
Despite all this cheer, she is not terribly optimistic. As a child she was idealistic and hopeful, but her experiences in the world have dulled that considerably. She's highly impatient and will do her own thing if people seem too slow for her; she can't stand someone getting in her way once she sets her mind on something. She dislikes rules and being told what to do, and will go out of her way to break them, though not without good enough cause. On a bad day, however, if you've really wronged her, she won't stop until you pay for it.
In life, all she desires is adventure, and maybe a dash of happiness. She doesn't want glory or fame, just to discover every inch of the world, defeat evils and help people. Currently, her primary goal is to find her brother.
History: Aveline's father came from a long line of patriotic, labouring men. She and her brothers broke that tradition. From a very young age Aveline was heavily influenced by her three elder brothers, who all desired a more eventful, exciting life. As such, they watched soldiers and guardsmen train and fight, and ran to the city gates to watch groups of adventurers and soldiers return from great feats.
Soon, her brothers were training each other to fight and climb and ride horses. The youngest of the three, Castan, took the time to teach Aveline everything he learned from the two eldest brothers. As soon as she was strong enough to best him in a sword fight, the four siblings trained as a whole. They practised by apprehending thieves, chasing down bandits and aiding the city guard whenever possible. They became everyday heroes for the people in their city, and a bit of a nuisance. Her elder brothers were invited to join the army, and did so. They married, too, and Aveline found herself with two sisters in law, who couldn't understand why she would want the life she did. Castan was later invited to join the ranks as well, but turned down the offer to travel the world instead.
He made many discoveries and became very knowledgeable about the world. He wrote to her and their parents very often and whenever he was home his evenings would be spent telling stories. Aveline quickly developed a taste for exploring as well, for stories were never enough to satisfy her curiosity. After dodging arranged marriages for a short while, she convinced her parents – with the help of her brothers – to let her make her own way in the world.
She set out as a young woman to visit all the places Castan had told her about, and some new ones. She helped people wherever she went, a strong moral code instilled in her by her parents, and kept in touch with all her family. On her third trip into the world, she learned of her eldest brother's death on the battlefield. The loss weighed heavily on their family, and Aveline neglected to travel again for over a year. But keeping herself in one place, now that she had seen the world and still wanted more, made the grief that much worse. At Castan's insistence she returned to different lands.
For two more years she journeyed across the world, gathering stories of her own and working as a guard or mercenary from time to time, and forming friendships. She was happy on the road, with the occasional companion. Then she received news that Castan was missing. Her brother had last been seen heading to Valuun Keep, apparently intending to unravel its mystery. Encouraged by the lack of a body to confirm her brother's death, Aveline travels to Valuun Keep to find him.
Age/Race/Gender: 21 year old human female.
Profession: Adventurer.
Appearance:
Armour/Clothing: (Contrary to the picture.) Beneath a basic set of leather armour – a chest and shoulder piece, wrist braces, leather pteruges and boots, Aveline wears a long-sleeved green tunic and wool trousers.
Weaponry: This sword, and a long dagger.
Other Items: A leather folded up and kept beneath her left wrist guard, a silver necklace, pouch of coins tucked into her tunic, satchel filled with basic supplies (food, cloth strips, waterskin).
Skills: Swordsmanship, riding, worldly knowledge, tracking.
Abilities: Aveline has no special powers or magical abilities. Not that she wouldn't mind getting her hands on a magical item or two.
Personality/Goals: On a good day, Aveline is polite, kind and generally pleasant to be around. She has instilled in her a strong moral code and strives to do the right thing wherever possible. She does enjoy taking risks and pushing her limits as well, and finds herself bored without a challenge or something interesting happening. When she has satisfied her need to do something reckless, or fed her curiosity for the day, she likes a good joke, a drink and a story. She likes telling stories, too, but often bends the truth a little to make them more exciting. She's a frequent liar, and a good one at that.
Despite all this cheer, she is not terribly optimistic. As a child she was idealistic and hopeful, but her experiences in the world have dulled that considerably. She's highly impatient and will do her own thing if people seem too slow for her; she can't stand someone getting in her way once she sets her mind on something. She dislikes rules and being told what to do, and will go out of her way to break them, though not without good enough cause. On a bad day, however, if you've really wronged her, she won't stop until you pay for it.
In life, all she desires is adventure, and maybe a dash of happiness. She doesn't want glory or fame, just to discover every inch of the world, defeat evils and help people. Currently, her primary goal is to find her brother.
History: Aveline's father came from a long line of patriotic, labouring men. She and her brothers broke that tradition. From a very young age Aveline was heavily influenced by her three elder brothers, who all desired a more eventful, exciting life. As such, they watched soldiers and guardsmen train and fight, and ran to the city gates to watch groups of adventurers and soldiers return from great feats.
Soon, her brothers were training each other to fight and climb and ride horses. The youngest of the three, Castan, took the time to teach Aveline everything he learned from the two eldest brothers. As soon as she was strong enough to best him in a sword fight, the four siblings trained as a whole. They practised by apprehending thieves, chasing down bandits and aiding the city guard whenever possible. They became everyday heroes for the people in their city, and a bit of a nuisance. Her elder brothers were invited to join the army, and did so. They married, too, and Aveline found herself with two sisters in law, who couldn't understand why she would want the life she did. Castan was later invited to join the ranks as well, but turned down the offer to travel the world instead.
He made many discoveries and became very knowledgeable about the world. He wrote to her and their parents very often and whenever he was home his evenings would be spent telling stories. Aveline quickly developed a taste for exploring as well, for stories were never enough to satisfy her curiosity. After dodging arranged marriages for a short while, she convinced her parents – with the help of her brothers – to let her make her own way in the world.
She set out as a young woman to visit all the places Castan had told her about, and some new ones. She helped people wherever she went, a strong moral code instilled in her by her parents, and kept in touch with all her family. On her third trip into the world, she learned of her eldest brother's death on the battlefield. The loss weighed heavily on their family, and Aveline neglected to travel again for over a year. But keeping herself in one place, now that she had seen the world and still wanted more, made the grief that much worse. At Castan's insistence she returned to different lands.
For two more years she journeyed across the world, gathering stories of her own and working as a guard or mercenary from time to time, and forming friendships. She was happy on the road, with the occasional companion. Then she received news that Castan was missing. Her brother had last been seen heading to Valuun Keep, apparently intending to unravel its mystery. Encouraged by the lack of a body to confirm her brother's death, Aveline travels to Valuun Keep to find him.
Haha. I figured the up and coming eventual Irish Mob would need an enemy, or someone to squash in order to gain power.
The plot thickens!
In a dirty, damp and empty warehouse TJ lay curled up like a foetus on the ground, whimpering. His eye and nose already started to swell and blood dripped down his cheek and chin. He cradled his broken hand and arm, and Beth half expected him to start rocking back and forth. Just to make sure her 'message' got through, she gave him a final few kicks to the ribs, then lifted him up by his shirt and slammed her fist into his face. She couldn't help feeling a tiny bit proud of herself that he passed out from the strike.
Otherwise, she was all 'business'. Her crew kept a number of these little warehouses dotted around the city. They had an agreement with a couple other big shots, but it was never smart to kill people in the same place too often. Then again, that's what bribes were for. Needless to say there were a few people in law enforcement and real estate that conveniently couldn't see these warehouses on a city map.
She knelt and searched him, coming up with a roll of cash, a few full baggies, a switchblade and a handgun. He had two burners on him; she scrolled through his texts on both. One for their everyday shit, and one for the Ciprianos. Beth scowled at the phone, then at TJ, as if he was conscious enough to feel her glare.
“What the fuck, TJ? This is who you snitched to?” She read through the foremost texts again, locking them down in her memory as best she could, then stamped on both phones. Pocketing the rest of her loot, she stepped back to nurse her bleeding knuckles. Whatever TJ told the Ciprianos – and Beth guessed her crew didn't know yet; they would have sent a team to deal with him if they did – it meant they were in the Ciprianos' sights. And if they were in the Ciprianos' sights, they were screwed.
“Fuck you, TJ,” Beth spat. She took the safety off his gun and shot him with it. Once in the head, nice and quick. She swapped out the gun for her burner, tapping out a quick message.
Clean up on aisle four.
The codenames were her idea, of course. At least for Beth, they never failed to lighten to mood. But this time it would take a little more than a bad joke. She dumped TJ in what must have been an office in the back and left the warehouse.
She managed to get two blocks away before she was shot at.
Ducking low, she dove into the nearest building – a closed down antique store – and sprinted through to the back. As she broke through the back door, heavy footsteps pursued from the front of the shop. Beth cursed and ran through the back streets, headed for the main road; she'd parked her bike on the next street over. Bullets struck the brick walls either side of her. She swore again, pulled TJ's gun out of her waistband and shot back, but didn't stop sprinting.
She ran straight across the open streets and into the road. They weren't on the outskirts of the city any more, there were security cameras here. The bullets stopped flying. Beth narrowly dodged traffic and jumped over parked cars, stuffing the handgun away again as she went. A minute later she found her bike and couldn't get away fast enough. Only when several roads separated her from the shooters did she feel the pain in her arm.
Otherwise, she was all 'business'. Her crew kept a number of these little warehouses dotted around the city. They had an agreement with a couple other big shots, but it was never smart to kill people in the same place too often. Then again, that's what bribes were for. Needless to say there were a few people in law enforcement and real estate that conveniently couldn't see these warehouses on a city map.
She knelt and searched him, coming up with a roll of cash, a few full baggies, a switchblade and a handgun. He had two burners on him; she scrolled through his texts on both. One for their everyday shit, and one for the Ciprianos. Beth scowled at the phone, then at TJ, as if he was conscious enough to feel her glare.
“What the fuck, TJ? This is who you snitched to?” She read through the foremost texts again, locking them down in her memory as best she could, then stamped on both phones. Pocketing the rest of her loot, she stepped back to nurse her bleeding knuckles. Whatever TJ told the Ciprianos – and Beth guessed her crew didn't know yet; they would have sent a team to deal with him if they did – it meant they were in the Ciprianos' sights. And if they were in the Ciprianos' sights, they were screwed.
“Fuck you, TJ,” Beth spat. She took the safety off his gun and shot him with it. Once in the head, nice and quick. She swapped out the gun for her burner, tapping out a quick message.
The codenames were her idea, of course. At least for Beth, they never failed to lighten to mood. But this time it would take a little more than a bad joke. She dumped TJ in what must have been an office in the back and left the warehouse.
She managed to get two blocks away before she was shot at.
Ducking low, she dove into the nearest building – a closed down antique store – and sprinted through to the back. As she broke through the back door, heavy footsteps pursued from the front of the shop. Beth cursed and ran through the back streets, headed for the main road; she'd parked her bike on the next street over. Bullets struck the brick walls either side of her. She swore again, pulled TJ's gun out of her waistband and shot back, but didn't stop sprinting.
She ran straight across the open streets and into the road. They weren't on the outskirts of the city any more, there were security cameras here. The bullets stopped flying. Beth narrowly dodged traffic and jumped over parked cars, stuffing the handgun away again as she went. A minute later she found her bike and couldn't get away fast enough. Only when several roads separated her from the shooters did she feel the pain in her arm.
I'm interested, but the tavern part puts me off. The story has potential, whereas the meeting in a bar scenario is overused and, at least in my experience, leads to a quick roleplay death. This is entirely your roleplay and your decision. I would just consider if it is at all possible for characters to have already (briefly) met on the way to the fortress shortly before the roleplay begins, or something along those lines.
"I hope Satan likes meth."
Someone put that in a quote book.
Someone put that in a quote book.
If it helps, you could start by compiling everything we've agreed on so far and expanding that until you have the RP a bit more fleshed out.
Posted. Left last night's situation open-ended. I don't think Beth would care very much what happened to the dealer, so she won't interfere there.
Last Night.
Slouching against the bar counter, Beth started a mental countdown. 10... 9... 8... Conor stepped up to the dealer. 7... 6... 5... The dealer looked up. She watched every minute movement of the man's eyes. The door opened and someone walked into the bar. 4... 3... 2... Max Lowrey stepped into her line of sight and seized the dealer's arm. Wait, what?
Beth scowled and sat up straight again. What the hell was Max Lowrey doing interfering with her entertainment? She slipped off the bar stool and turned to watch as he dragged the dealer out of the bar, leaving her, the regulars and the rest of the bar's patrons staring. The door slammed behind him, jolting most everyone out of their stupor.
She turned to Sheehan and Conor, gesturing so violently droplets of beer flew from the bottle in her hand. “What the fuck?”
Present Day.
The door unlocked with minimal effort. She shoved the lock picking kit into her back pocket, braced her hands on the door frame, and kicked it open. She wanted to make a noise, but she wasn't about to damage the lock. The handle made a loud thud as it struck the wall. Beth stepped over the plaster dust, picking up a frying pan on her way into the bedroom. Sure, she had a gun in her jacket, but brute force was much more fun.
As predicted, a greasy, overweight man in his late forties rushed out of the room. She swung the flat of the pan at his head. He stumbled and fell, very much like a chubby kid on one of those home videos TV shows. She continued into the bedroom.
The floor was littered with cigarette packets, baggies, empty bottles, condoms and discarded clothes. The smell was damp and stale, and she could swear it worsened with each visit. Her mother lay face down on the bed, amidst crumpled bedsheets. Beth found a half empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and poured it over her mother's head. With a start and a shriek the woman erupted from the bed, drawing a knife from under the pillow. She waved it around with an embarrassing lack of skill.
Snatching the blade from her mother's hand, Beth shouted, “Quit your damn screaming and clean your shit up!” She seized her mother's arm and threw her into the bathroom.
While her mother sat in her underwear beneath the running water of the shower, Beth got rid of the latest customer. She made sure to give him a lasting reminder not to come back. She retrieved the groceries she'd left outside the apartment and started making breakfast. Every few days she would do this, and since her father's disappearance, there were never any surprises.
Her phone – one of those cheap disposable ones you get at a gas station – lit up about halfway through her first set of pancakes. The message read:
TJ snitched. Knock him off.
She groaned. Her knuckles had just started healing again. “Mom! Gotta go to work. Food's in the kitchen.” Beth shovelled the rest of her food and called into the bathroom on her way out of the apartment. “Don't fucking stay in there all day!”
Slouching against the bar counter, Beth started a mental countdown. 10... 9... 8... Conor stepped up to the dealer. 7... 6... 5... The dealer looked up. She watched every minute movement of the man's eyes. The door opened and someone walked into the bar. 4... 3... 2... Max Lowrey stepped into her line of sight and seized the dealer's arm. Wait, what?
Beth scowled and sat up straight again. What the hell was Max Lowrey doing interfering with her entertainment? She slipped off the bar stool and turned to watch as he dragged the dealer out of the bar, leaving her, the regulars and the rest of the bar's patrons staring. The door slammed behind him, jolting most everyone out of their stupor.
She turned to Sheehan and Conor, gesturing so violently droplets of beer flew from the bottle in her hand. “What the fuck?”
Present Day.
The door unlocked with minimal effort. She shoved the lock picking kit into her back pocket, braced her hands on the door frame, and kicked it open. She wanted to make a noise, but she wasn't about to damage the lock. The handle made a loud thud as it struck the wall. Beth stepped over the plaster dust, picking up a frying pan on her way into the bedroom. Sure, she had a gun in her jacket, but brute force was much more fun.
As predicted, a greasy, overweight man in his late forties rushed out of the room. She swung the flat of the pan at his head. He stumbled and fell, very much like a chubby kid on one of those home videos TV shows. She continued into the bedroom.
The floor was littered with cigarette packets, baggies, empty bottles, condoms and discarded clothes. The smell was damp and stale, and she could swear it worsened with each visit. Her mother lay face down on the bed, amidst crumpled bedsheets. Beth found a half empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and poured it over her mother's head. With a start and a shriek the woman erupted from the bed, drawing a knife from under the pillow. She waved it around with an embarrassing lack of skill.
Snatching the blade from her mother's hand, Beth shouted, “Quit your damn screaming and clean your shit up!” She seized her mother's arm and threw her into the bathroom.
While her mother sat in her underwear beneath the running water of the shower, Beth got rid of the latest customer. She made sure to give him a lasting reminder not to come back. She retrieved the groceries she'd left outside the apartment and started making breakfast. Every few days she would do this, and since her father's disappearance, there were never any surprises.
Her phone – one of those cheap disposable ones you get at a gas station – lit up about halfway through her first set of pancakes. The message read:
She groaned. Her knuckles had just started healing again. “Mom! Gotta go to work. Food's in the kitchen.” Beth shovelled the rest of her food and called into the bathroom on her way out of the apartment. “Don't fucking stay in there all day!”
© 2007-2024