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TheDookieNut Member
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Sora1297,
DestinyStar
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2 yrs ago
If anyone I used to RP with comes back to check my profile and is wanting to carry on: sod it, dm me your discord, let's get started again
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3 yrs ago
I miss the old RPGuild..
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Fuck recovery
Most Recent Posts
High pitch voices??
Too sleepy to think straight >.<
Too sleepy to think straight >.<
Penetralia
The Amazing Race is a cool idea but we don't have it in the UK, so any streams are usually high pitched to avoid copy right.
I kind of just went with it.
it's not my best but I owe you something!
Sorry it took so long
it's not my best but I owe you something!
Sorry it took so long
Penetralia, pop. 84
Nestled deep in Flathead Valley perched a quaint town. The long and twisting north road that stretched beyond the horizon left them perfectly isolated, content within their own place in the world. The collection of houses sat between three large farms, each bustling with cattle and sheep, as well as work horses. The town was centred around a large hall, its clock tower raised high, painted deep, azure blue. From one end of the main street to the other were all the amenities a picturesque town needed, despite being so far away from any civilisation beside their own.
Whilst only small, the people within the collection were almost entirely self-sufficient; ideal for those seeking privacy and shelter. Penetralia lived up to its name. The residents all knew each other by name and continued their lives with their own purpose. From doctor to the electrician, there wasn't a job spare within the less than bustling streets.
On that particular day, the downpour had been heavy enough to burst the old roof tiles of the three-roomed school. By midday, most of the residents were gathering to repair the damage, leaving seven of the stronger townsfolk to collect timber from the forest beyond their town limits. They twisted down the North Road to which they would reach a clearing created entirely for the creation of buildings. Their journey would have remained routine had the strange and unfamiliar figure not appeared in the heavy shower. As the two front cars continued on, a stout man with a misshapen beard, a deep auburn with the flecks of old age beginning to show, pulled against the sodden grass.
"You're awfully lost, kid." He called, leaning across from his spot in the driver's seat. Two old eyes stared the stranger from the tip of his sodden head all the way down the squelching soles of his shoes. Penetralia had stood for decades, and more often than not, residents never happened on accident. They reached its borders for a reason. "We've got warm food and dry clothes in town. You'll catch something nasty out here in this rain and we're miles away from any real hospitals." A fat hand reached across to the passenger door and swung it open for the man. "It's not a long ride into town, Susan will be happy to help." The plump man sat silently for the briefest moment before pulling away with Addison inside.
He spent very little for the first few moments of their journey. It wasn't due to the man's reluctance to speak, but instead his reserved consideration of their new resident. It was bold to believe as such but such existed their township. From what had originated as a sanctuary nestled from a chaotic world, continued forwards an ever growing land of picturesque freedom.
"I suppose you'll be looking for somewhere to spend the night too, ey?" His accent was thick whilst his voice crackled from one too many cigars. "We've got plenty of people who'd be happy to spare a bed. I'm sure Maggie wouldn't mind letting you stay if you'd prefer to be outside of the town. You don't entirely strike me as a City-type." After a moment of careful consideration, a bulbous hand shot towards the stranger. "You can call be Angus, by the way. I own the brewery in town. You're welcome to a free drink at any time, just stop by." The toothy grin he shared with the newcomer was vibrant, yellowed, but honest.
The duo continued back down the winding tarmac until the trees parted to reveal a town sat beneath rolling mountains and a landscape vaster than the imagination. On either side stretched fields of corn, potato, and rapeseed, vivid yellow in bloom. The truck bounced over the less trodden track until the community came into full view. Black specs were still gathered around the roofing of the school house, all working to repair the damage caused by a long neglected problem. Despite the continuing downpour, Penetralia existed as if painted from the longing of an idealist. Boundless horizon, infinite skies, expansive grassland with herds of peaceful animals. Sitting out of town stood a farmhouse, painted an old turquoise.
The spluttering truck pulled into the town only to stop outside the congregation. Angus slowly heaved himself from inside the vehicle and gestured over both his new neighbour and a slender old women, with a pointed nose and an endearing face. They spoke quietly for a moment until she strode over to the new face.
"Come on, love. We've got plenty to spare here." She trotted gently across the empty high street and into the townhouse opposite. "You look a similar size to my son-" The entire interior of the house seemed to match the peacefully quaint exterior, laced with timed decor and home-made furniture. The grey haired women returned not a moment later with two fresh towels and a bundle of clean, and more importantly, dry clothing. "Take your time. I'll fix you up some stew in the mean time." The women, Susan, handed over the collection of items before retreating with a whistle into the kitchen.
Nestled deep in Flathead Valley perched a quaint town. The long and twisting north road that stretched beyond the horizon left them perfectly isolated, content within their own place in the world. The collection of houses sat between three large farms, each bustling with cattle and sheep, as well as work horses. The town was centred around a large hall, its clock tower raised high, painted deep, azure blue. From one end of the main street to the other were all the amenities a picturesque town needed, despite being so far away from any civilisation beside their own.
Whilst only small, the people within the collection were almost entirely self-sufficient; ideal for those seeking privacy and shelter. Penetralia lived up to its name. The residents all knew each other by name and continued their lives with their own purpose. From doctor to the electrician, there wasn't a job spare within the less than bustling streets.
On that particular day, the downpour had been heavy enough to burst the old roof tiles of the three-roomed school. By midday, most of the residents were gathering to repair the damage, leaving seven of the stronger townsfolk to collect timber from the forest beyond their town limits. They twisted down the North Road to which they would reach a clearing created entirely for the creation of buildings. Their journey would have remained routine had the strange and unfamiliar figure not appeared in the heavy shower. As the two front cars continued on, a stout man with a misshapen beard, a deep auburn with the flecks of old age beginning to show, pulled against the sodden grass.
"You're awfully lost, kid." He called, leaning across from his spot in the driver's seat. Two old eyes stared the stranger from the tip of his sodden head all the way down the squelching soles of his shoes. Penetralia had stood for decades, and more often than not, residents never happened on accident. They reached its borders for a reason. "We've got warm food and dry clothes in town. You'll catch something nasty out here in this rain and we're miles away from any real hospitals." A fat hand reached across to the passenger door and swung it open for the man. "It's not a long ride into town, Susan will be happy to help." The plump man sat silently for the briefest moment before pulling away with Addison inside.
He spent very little for the first few moments of their journey. It wasn't due to the man's reluctance to speak, but instead his reserved consideration of their new resident. It was bold to believe as such but such existed their township. From what had originated as a sanctuary nestled from a chaotic world, continued forwards an ever growing land of picturesque freedom.
"I suppose you'll be looking for somewhere to spend the night too, ey?" His accent was thick whilst his voice crackled from one too many cigars. "We've got plenty of people who'd be happy to spare a bed. I'm sure Maggie wouldn't mind letting you stay if you'd prefer to be outside of the town. You don't entirely strike me as a City-type." After a moment of careful consideration, a bulbous hand shot towards the stranger. "You can call be Angus, by the way. I own the brewery in town. You're welcome to a free drink at any time, just stop by." The toothy grin he shared with the newcomer was vibrant, yellowed, but honest.
The duo continued back down the winding tarmac until the trees parted to reveal a town sat beneath rolling mountains and a landscape vaster than the imagination. On either side stretched fields of corn, potato, and rapeseed, vivid yellow in bloom. The truck bounced over the less trodden track until the community came into full view. Black specs were still gathered around the roofing of the school house, all working to repair the damage caused by a long neglected problem. Despite the continuing downpour, Penetralia existed as if painted from the longing of an idealist. Boundless horizon, infinite skies, expansive grassland with herds of peaceful animals. Sitting out of town stood a farmhouse, painted an old turquoise.
The spluttering truck pulled into the town only to stop outside the congregation. Angus slowly heaved himself from inside the vehicle and gestured over both his new neighbour and a slender old women, with a pointed nose and an endearing face. They spoke quietly for a moment until she strode over to the new face.
"Come on, love. We've got plenty to spare here." She trotted gently across the empty high street and into the townhouse opposite. "You look a similar size to my son-" The entire interior of the house seemed to match the peacefully quaint exterior, laced with timed decor and home-made furniture. The grey haired women returned not a moment later with two fresh towels and a bundle of clean, and more importantly, dry clothing. "Take your time. I'll fix you up some stew in the mean time." The women, Susan, handed over the collection of items before retreating with a whistle into the kitchen.
I'm having a character from the town give Addison a lift into the town centre, is it safe to assume he gets in the car when offered?
I didn't want to force him too if he'd be reluctant.
I didn't want to force him too if he'd be reluctant.
I would have blamed the router but there was a whole area outage. Fucking internet providers, man! Our has issues every week, but we're still under contract >.<
Internet is out, which is fab!
I'm half way through my post on PC, and I hate finishing them on mobile.
100000000% posting tomorrow.
I'm half way through my post on PC, and I hate finishing them on mobile.
100000000% posting tomorrow.
Rhoynar smirked gently at his companion's comment.
"So long as we are able to steer clear of any politics, I'm sure we will remain out of trouble. Across the deserts, any man can call himself King, if his pockets are full enough with gold." From the Western ports to the rolling nomad tribes, and further across the Asshian Desert, the concept of Royalty lacked, instead trade ruled entirely.
The man spent the remainder of the daylight hours speaking with Illinfer about the alien world she would be soon to meet. He settled soon as the weariness of travel set into his head. Swiftly, he departed Illinfer's side and sought the Captain of the Vessel. The man was easily found standing aboard the larger stern of the merchant ship. The ocean spray had already set into his beard, the ends beginning to frizz of their own accord.
"Should the seas remain calm?" He asked in a language native to the Second East. It wasn't to alienate his companion. Rhoynar had no intention, yet previously exchanged information left him tense. The bearded Captain responded with a hearty nod and a smile. "That's good to know. My friend and I also wanted to ask regarding sleeping quarters, I understand there isn't much space-"
"I can spare a few beds, if you're willing to wait until the midnight deck change their shifts." The seaman added, clapping a meaty hand on Rhoynar's shoulder once again. There was an exchange of expressions before the tone dropped and both men walked quietly down onto the lower desks and to the privacy of the bow.
"The city of Alssahra fell not two moons past. The Slaves slit their masters throats in their masters throats in the night. Vaskah has spread from the Desert Cities through to Meerai and Olas. The streets are not safe. Trade what you need then leave." The crackling of the Eastern Trade Language bounced against the waves, echoing off the wood of the ship, despite their hushed tones.
Before too long, Rhoynar smiled and returned to Illinfer's side. He handed her a small cup of mead and yawned towards the cloudless sky.
"So long as we are able to steer clear of any politics, I'm sure we will remain out of trouble. Across the deserts, any man can call himself King, if his pockets are full enough with gold." From the Western ports to the rolling nomad tribes, and further across the Asshian Desert, the concept of Royalty lacked, instead trade ruled entirely.
The man spent the remainder of the daylight hours speaking with Illinfer about the alien world she would be soon to meet. He settled soon as the weariness of travel set into his head. Swiftly, he departed Illinfer's side and sought the Captain of the Vessel. The man was easily found standing aboard the larger stern of the merchant ship. The ocean spray had already set into his beard, the ends beginning to frizz of their own accord.
"Should the seas remain calm?" He asked in a language native to the Second East. It wasn't to alienate his companion. Rhoynar had no intention, yet previously exchanged information left him tense. The bearded Captain responded with a hearty nod and a smile. "That's good to know. My friend and I also wanted to ask regarding sleeping quarters, I understand there isn't much space-"
"I can spare a few beds, if you're willing to wait until the midnight deck change their shifts." The seaman added, clapping a meaty hand on Rhoynar's shoulder once again. There was an exchange of expressions before the tone dropped and both men walked quietly down onto the lower desks and to the privacy of the bow.
"The city of Alssahra fell not two moons past. The Slaves slit their masters throats in their masters throats in the night. Vaskah has spread from the Desert Cities through to Meerai and Olas. The streets are not safe. Trade what you need then leave." The crackling of the Eastern Trade Language bounced against the waves, echoing off the wood of the ship, despite their hushed tones.
Before too long, Rhoynar smiled and returned to Illinfer's side. He handed her a small cup of mead and yawned towards the cloudless sky.
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