OOC: Apologies, I haven't been very active recently. Due to stuff I'm too slack to list in detail, I'm gonna bow out of a few RPs (and I'm only in two, so really I'm bowing out of all of 'em ). So, adieu, and may the Castle RP CONtinue being awesome without me.
OOC: 'Tis! Here's hoping I can get some good use out of Ackar!
Fun fact: the name comes from a period of my life where I would just straight up name my WoW characters after whatever Bionicle sets were being sold at the time. In spite of having a completely unoriginal name, however, Ackar has taken on his own identity in recent years. I've used him for so long that I no longer think of BIONICLE when I talk about "Ackar". The only thing I think about when somebody says "Ackar" is my Tauren death knight.
So yeah, like I said: enough history behind him to be nostalgic... but he's fresh enough for me to not expect too much of him.
OOC: Here's hope'n Then who is the BIONICLE is yo pic den? I really liked the old BIONICLEs though. Who was your fave BIONICLE?
OOC: 'Tis! Here's hoping I can get some good use out of Ackar!
Fun fact: the name comes from a period of my life where I would just straight up name my WoW characters after whatever Bionicle sets were being sold at the time. In spite of having a completely unoriginal name, however, Ackar has taken on his own identity in recent years. I've used him for so long that I no longer think of BIONICLE when I talk about "Ackar". The only thing I think about when somebody says "Ackar" is my Tauren death knight.
So yeah, like I said: enough history behind him to be nostalgic... but he's fresh enough for me to not expect too much of him.
OOC: Here's hope'n Then who is the BIONICLE is yo pic den? I really liked the old BIONICLEs though. Who was your fave BIONICLE?
The BIONICLE in my pic is... me it's an OC called "Emarcee" from back when my username was Mrcqm.
My favorite original BIONICLE was...
crud. I don't have a favorite from when I was growing up.
I mean -- if I have to pick one from hindsight: Vezon is my favorite character and either Guurahk or Brutaka are my favorite models.
OOC: Apologies, I haven't been very active recently. Due to stuff I'm too slack to list in detail, I'm gonna bow out of a few RPs (and I'm only in two, so really I'm bowing out of all of 'em ). So, adieu, and may the Castle RP CONtinue being awesome without me.
OOC: We'll miss you LEGO! You've been a part of this for almost as long as I have!
Post by TheNebulousMysteryRider on May 6, 2021 13:26:41 GMT
Creaking with every bump, a humble wooden cart trundles along by the power of a single horse making its way through the stone covered path. An array of tools hanging from inside jingle as they sway back and forth while a small bird nesting in the corner sings a happy tune.
The driver of this cart chimes in with her own accompanying lyric, her voice resembling a somber yet hopeful mariner sailing through a harsh squall.
"Galley with good oars Sail to distant shores Stand up on the prow Noble barque I steer Steady course for the haven Hew many foe-men, hew many foe-men"
She smiled as she remembered the colorful character that was the sea captain who taught her the shanty after successfully repairing his ship's sails during an oncoming attack. She had found herself needing to take a trip across the ocean and was allowed to board, but she hadn't expected to cross swords with the crew's old enemy. Helping the small band of warrior's repel the attack, the captain considered her an ally, and likewise both him and the whole crew became fast friends. . Laying back on the cart, the driver wondered what other sort of adventures awaited her until a sudden jolt interrupted her daydream. The horse had stopped and was pointing towards a sturdy looking Tavern weathered from age. Neighing twice, the driver acknowledged the horse's cries with a playful neigh as well before proceeding in that direction.
"And don't worry, I'll dedicate this next tune to you Erin."
The horse propped up and began to strut with its head held high, followed by a happy neigh.
Creaking with every bump, a humble wooden cart trundles along by the power of a single horse making its way through the stone covered path. An array of tools hanging from inside jingle as they sway back and forth while a small bird nesting in the corner sings a happy tune.
The driver of this cart chimes in with her own accompanying lyric, her voice resembling a somber yet hopeful mariner sailing through a harsh squall.
"Galley with good oars Sail to distant shores Stand up on the prow Noble barque I steer Steady course for the haven Hew many foe-men, hew many foe-men"
She smiled as she remembered the colorful character that was the sea captain who taught her the shanty after successfully repairing his ship's sails during an oncoming attack. She had found herself needing to take a trip across the ocean and was allowed to board, but she hadn't expected to cross swords with the crew's old enemy. Helping the small band of warrior's repel the attack, the captain considered her an ally, and likewise both him and the whole crew became fast friends. . Laying back on the cart, the driver wondered what other sort of adventures awaited her until a sudden jolt interrupted her daydream. The horse had stopped and was pointing towards a sturdy looking Tavern weathered from age. Neighing twice, the driver acknowledged the horse's cries with a playful neigh as well before proceeding in that direction.
"And don't worry, I'll dedicate this next tune to you Erin."
The horse propped up and began to strut with its head held high, followed by a happy neigh.
The Tavern is quiet, only a few customers present.
Creaking with every bump, a humble wooden cart trundles along by the power of a single horse making its way through the stone covered path. An array of tools hanging from inside jingle as they sway back and forth while a small bird nesting in the corner sings a happy tune.
The driver of this cart chimes in with her own accompanying lyric, her voice resembling a somber yet hopeful mariner sailing through a harsh squall.
"Galley with good oars Sail to distant shores Stand up on the prow Noble barque I steer Steady course for the haven Hew many foe-men, hew many foe-men"
She smiled as she remembered the colorful character that was the sea captain who taught her the shanty after successfully repairing his ship's sails during an oncoming attack. She had found herself needing to take a trip across the ocean and was allowed to board, but she hadn't expected to cross swords with the crew's old enemy. Helping the small band of warrior's repel the attack, the captain considered her an ally, and likewise both him and the whole crew became fast friends. . Laying back on the cart, the driver wondered what other sort of adventures awaited her until a sudden jolt interrupted her daydream. The horse had stopped and was pointing towards a sturdy looking Tavern weathered from age. Neighing twice, the driver acknowledged the horse's cries with a playful neigh as well before proceeding in that direction.
"And don't worry, I'll dedicate this next tune to you Erin."
The horse propped up and began to strut with its head held high, followed by a happy neigh.
The Tavern is quiet, only a few customers present.
"Onward to sustenance..."
Now parked outside the Tavern, the driver leads her horse to the trough and gently strokes its blonde mane before entering the establishment.
Inside, the dull atmosphere leaves the driver mildly surprised and a tad cautious. Approaching a gentlemen thought to be in charge of the Tavern, she mimics the dialect of a rough fisherman and asks him a question with an air of confidence.
"Ey, yer be knowing how far one could go teh get some good vittles around here? Willing teh pay yer a fair price." She had disguised herself with a tattered cloth around her forehead that covered her right eye, giving off the idea of a long forgotten injury. Her left hand shook and she hobbled about, leading any passerby to conclude her presence as merely that of an old hag looking for a quick meal.
The Tavern is quiet, only a few customers present.
"Onward to sustenance..."
Now parked outside the Tavern, the driver leads her horse to the trough and gently strokes its blonde mane before entering the establishment.
Inside, the dull atmosphere leaves the driver mildly surprised and a tad cautious. Approaching a gentlemen thought to be in charge of the Tavern, she mimics the dialect of a rough fisherman and asks him a question with an air of confidence.
"Ey, yer be knowing how far one could go teh get some good vittles around here? Willing teh pay yer a fair price." She had disguised herself with a tattered cloth around her forehead that covered her right eye, giving off the idea of a long forgotten injury. Her left hand shook and she hobbled about, leading any passerby to conclude her presence as merely that of an old hag looking for a quick meal.
The fellow in question is not the Tavern's Owner, but another guest enjoying his supper. He is quick to mock her in jest.
"I'll give ye vittles ya old vandal, but ya have to do something for me first."
The Figure gives off a hearty laugh. "Name ye price."
The patron pulls out a lute and hands it to her. "I've been aching to hear some music, like the type played to Kings in castles. Now I'm not sure your brittle fingers are up for it..." He then whistles to a waiter and motions him over. Taking a large drumstick from the waiter's plate, he points it at the Figure. "Do well, and I'll give you more than just one! Step lively now!"
The Figure smiles, "Righty-O! Give it here." She takes the lute, but the stench of her clothes causes the patron's face to curl. She notices this and quips. "Proud testament to a nomad's life, eh?" The Figure stretches her fingers then begins to play a somber song that leaves the remaining guests feeling remorse and longing.
"To my homeland I'd be carried By the power of a dove's wings Going back to my blessed homeland Where the lark forever sings."
The patron is left in tears. "Where did ya learn to play like that? Ye, ye be leaving us sullen."
The Figure offers a small bow before changing to an upbeat tempo. "Just making sure ye all be paying attenshun! Now, who here is ready for a treat?" Tapping her foot, she stirs the few guests into a joyous frenzy and the whole Tavern erupts with multiple people dancing on tables and doing all sorts of tricks.
Now parked outside the Tavern, the driver leads her horse to the trough and gently strokes its blonde mane before entering the establishment.
Inside, the dull atmosphere leaves the driver mildly surprised and a tad cautious. Approaching a gentlemen thought to be in charge of the Tavern, she mimics the dialect of a rough fisherman and asks him a question with an air of confidence.
"Ey, yer be knowing how far one could go teh get some good vittles around here? Willing teh pay yer a fair price." She had disguised herself with a tattered cloth around her forehead that covered her right eye, giving off the idea of a long forgotten injury. Her left hand shook and she hobbled about, leading any passerby to conclude her presence as merely that of an old hag looking for a quick meal.
The fellow in question is not the Tavern's Owner, but another guest enjoying his supper. He is quick to mock her in jest.
"I'll give ye vittles ya old vandal, but ya have to do something for me first."
The Figure gives off a hearty laugh. "Name ye price."
The patron pulls out a lute and hands it to her. "I've been aching to hear some music, like the type played to Kings in castles. Now I'm not sure your brittle fingers are up for it..." He then whistles to a waiter and motions him over. Taking a large drumstick from the waiter's plate, he points it at the Figure. "Do well, and I'll give you more than just one! Step lively now!"
The Figure smiles, "Righty-O! Give it here." She takes the lute, but the stench of her clothes causes the patron's face to curl. She notices this and quips. "Proud testament to a nomad's life, eh?" The Figure stretches her fingers then begins to play a somber song that leaves the remaining guests feeling remorse and longing.
"To my homeland I'd be carried By the power of a dove's wings Going back to my blessed homeland Where the lark forever sings."
The patron is left in tears. "Where did ya learn to play like that? Ye, ye be leaving us sullen."
The Figure offers a small bow before changing to an upbeat tempo. "Just making sure ye all be paying attenshun! Now, who here is ready for a treat?" Tapping her foot, she stirs the few guests into a joyous frenzy and the whole Tavern erupts with multiple people dancing on tables and doing all sorts of tricks.
Just like that, the mood in the Tavern is turned around, people forgetting about their worries for a brief time.
The fellow in question is not the Tavern's Owner, but another guest enjoying his supper. He is quick to mock her in jest.
"I'll give ye vittles ya old vandal, but ya have to do something for me first."
The Figure gives off a hearty laugh. "Name ye price."
The patron pulls out a lute and hands it to her. "I've been aching to hear some music, like the type played to Kings in castles. Now I'm not sure your brittle fingers are up for it..." He then whistles to a waiter and motions him over. Taking a large drumstick from the waiter's plate, he points it at the Figure. "Do well, and I'll give you more than just one! Step lively now!"
The Figure smiles, "Righty-O! Give it here." She takes the lute, but the stench of her clothes causes the patron's face to curl. She notices this and quips. "Proud testament to a nomad's life, eh?" The Figure stretches her fingers then begins to play a somber song that leaves the remaining guests feeling remorse and longing.
"To my homeland I'd be carried By the power of a dove's wings Going back to my blessed homeland Where the lark forever sings."
The patron is left in tears. "Where did ya learn to play like that? Ye, ye be leaving us sullen."
The Figure offers a small bow before changing to an upbeat tempo. "Just making sure ye all be paying attenshun! Now, who here is ready for a treat?" Tapping her foot, she stirs the few guests into a joyous frenzy and the whole Tavern erupts with multiple people dancing on tables and doing all sorts of tricks.
Just like that, the mood in the Tavern is turned around, people forgetting about their worries for a brief time.
OOC: What would Tilly like to do next?
OOC: I was hoping some more users would come in and somehow Tilly is able to be integrated into the overall rp story without damaging what you have already planned.
Just like that, the mood in the Tavern is turned around, people forgetting about their worries for a brief time.
OOC: What would Tilly like to do next?
OOC: I was hoping some more users would come in and somehow Tilly is able to be integrated into the overall rp story without damaging what you have already planned.
OOC: Everyone is pretty much engaged in other storylines elsewhere at the moment. I know you've read some of the topics. Is there a part of the story you're interested in?
OOC: I was hoping some more users would come in and somehow Tilly is able to be integrated into the overall rp story without damaging what you have already planned.
OOC: Everyone is pretty much engaged in other storylines elsewhere at the moment. I know you've read some of the topics. Is there a part of the story you're interested in?
OOC: Well, as it is I am still reading and not quite done yet, however, it seems much action has been going on in with the Shadow Knights. Where might you recommend I start? Perhaps reviving a more quieter HQ?
Post by TheNebulousMysteryRider on May 25, 2021 22:48:43 GMT
IC: A loud crash causes the entire Tavern to become quiet out of fear and dread. Standing before a smashed table, an imposing figure clad in armor gruffly calls out to the patrons his intentions.
Armored Figure: "I'd say, this is a fine jolly old gathering, but someone has got to pay their share."
Rose remains standing quite still, knowing any movement would draw attention. The armored warrior held up an aged parchment, glaring at everyone with a mean expression.
Armored Figure: "Yes, someone here has forgotten, or perhaps purposefully so, that a certain fine gentleman has had his prime carriage woefully ruined by a certain, un-refined coward."
Rose chuckled under her breath. The old chap was none other than General Breel, a title the old bloke gave himself out of vanity. He worked for a young baron, Sir Varlamane, an equally conceited fellow who had once hired Rose to fix his broken carriage. Prime indeed! The poor thing was already a complete waste before Rose restore it to perfection, but with a catch. Varlamane was intending to meet a weary farmer and pressure him into selling his ancestral land, however, ever since the farmer's first refusal Breel had been secretly causing horrible accidents that finally led the farmer to give in to the baron's demands.
Out of a sense of duty, Rose had used faulty parts knowing full well that the carriage would never make the trip through the thorns and rocky pathway that led to the farmer's plot. Biding her time, she returned his carriage at the first sight of summer rain and accepted no payment considering it a free gift for the young tyrant. Varlamane and Breel later traveled to the farmer during the storm, and soon the carriage collapsed leaving Varlamane with a broken ankle and Breel chasing after the frightened horse.
Apparently, Varlamane had not forgotten that day, nor any day since. This was but one of her follies, as the two kept up a heated rivalry since their youth. Having enough, today was truly the hour such follies had finally caught up with her...
Armored Figure: "Well? Ya don't know, don't ye? Well, I'll tell ya loud and clear."
He angrily came down on the parchment with a knife and later held it up for all to see.
Armored Figure: "I am looking for Rose, Cuppersance Rose! By order of Sir Varlamane!"
Rose smacked her lips and handed the lute back to the kind patron before confronting Beel.
Rose: "And ye be quite the character, ye scoundrel."
Still in character, Rose takes a broken piece of wood and waves it around his face, mirroring the movements and tone of a cross grandma reprimanding a young child.
Rose: "Ye come here and throw a fit, breaking such a good table too. Why-why where is your mother and father te teach ye? Hmmm? Hmmm?"
Beel smacks the would-be walking stick away, but before he could raise his voice to a furious shrill he pauses and a wicked smirk crawls on his face.
Beel: "Oh yes, me old mother and dear father, yes. Supposing though a gal of your seasons wouldn't be the owner of that fine cart outside? I mean, how else would ye have gotten here?"
Rose quickly came up with an excuse. "True, but how I got here ain't that pretty of a tale. Me rickety old bones sought shelter, so I heaved meself across for seasons and-"
Beel: "And hitched up a fine cart to hide in the country?"
All the patrons were looking at Rose intently, and Rose stood in the middle, eyes wide and mind racing. Where did she come from? And where was she planning to go?
Rose: "Fine, fine. Ye got me, ye young scallywag. I'd be an old marauder of sorts, and I was eyeing that old cart. Since ye brought it up..."
She raced to the door, stepping over a few tables before smacking head first into the floor in front of the exit. Rose had tripped on the weathered, long coat she had been wearing for a disguise. Beel roughly grabbed her by the shoulders, but Rose shouted something that drew the Tavern guests into another, more violent frenzy.
Rose: "Anyone who catches me wins a king's fortune by order of Sir Varlamane!"
The room erupted into a fury of fists flying and hoarse screams until one patron stopped to ask a question.
Patron: "Wait, how much are we talking? A hundred silver pieces?"
Rose, now stuck in a chokehold, motioned with her hands. "Ah nah mate, more like a thousand gold pieces! The rest I reckon you could discuss with Varlamane. I hear he is quite generous."
). So, adieu, and may the Castle RP CONtinue being awesome without me. 
