Post by Rinneh on Feb 22, 2008 16:34:13 GMT
((Hokay. Here's a little roleplay sample. It's actually an intro from a while ago. (: My writing's probably improved loads since then, but I'm saving myself for the character apps.))
The blade was frigid, even through the cloth that was being used at the moment to clean it; colder steel than usual. But this had been a brutal winter, even for hardy individuals or those that enjoyed the chill of the prelude to spring. Well, it was not this frozen dagger that bothered the dark figure, lonely against the washed-out abyss of the nighttime forest. It may have stung her fingers through their black leather gloves, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for such weather as this.No, it was the sense of presences about, alerting her innermost instincts of paranoia with a slight narrowing of the eyes, strengthening of her already keen hearing, and the sensing of vibrations upon the ground that one of her profession surely needed to know.
One might have noticed, then, that the moon's glow reflecting from the blanket of hard-packed ice crystals seemed almost to splash upwards, revealing a sinister countenance, to be sure. Of course, it was probably considered soft compared to that of the mysterious woman's distant relatives, considered terrible to behold, even for the grace yet granted them by having the blood of Fallen elves. It seemed fairly standard, though, in proportion, for that of a dark elf...though one who was considered a heretic from the very day of her birth. That had not been her fault, but that of her parents, and one cannot usually choose what society they become a member of.
Her skin was dark, though not the flawless ebony that some posessed. It was more of a muted, dusky grey, rather like ash or smoke.
As jewels, her sanguine eyes, burning despite the terrible cold, stood out upon her slender face; dark lips and long, pointed ears peeking from beneath strands of feathery raven-hued hair which quivered slightly, as she exhaled a cloud of vapourized air,much akin to the reaction of her cloak's hood. It was black, as were the remainder of her garments; light leather armour (with fitted black shirt and leggings worn underneath, as well as form-fitted boots that climbed to her knees) made for stealth, and not offering as much protection as the armour of the average warrior. Of course, she only wore this because she had skill, and was not reckless, as they were. Also, she did not happen to follow the path of the warrior. She happened to be an assassin. Correction: a former assassin. Her career, as far as she knew, had ended.But it had rightful cause to, no matter how much displeasure it brought. She had been seen while on a contract, held prisoner by the very man shehad meant to eliminate, pressed for information. She had the slit in her ear, a scar, to prove that. That, however, had been weakness, incompetence, and betrayal. Thus, being expelled. Who knew, they might wish her dead, now, as well.
The blade was frigid, even through the cloth that was being used at the moment to clean it; colder steel than usual. But this had been a brutal winter, even for hardy individuals or those that enjoyed the chill of the prelude to spring. Well, it was not this frozen dagger that bothered the dark figure, lonely against the washed-out abyss of the nighttime forest. It may have stung her fingers through their black leather gloves, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for such weather as this.No, it was the sense of presences about, alerting her innermost instincts of paranoia with a slight narrowing of the eyes, strengthening of her already keen hearing, and the sensing of vibrations upon the ground that one of her profession surely needed to know.
One might have noticed, then, that the moon's glow reflecting from the blanket of hard-packed ice crystals seemed almost to splash upwards, revealing a sinister countenance, to be sure. Of course, it was probably considered soft compared to that of the mysterious woman's distant relatives, considered terrible to behold, even for the grace yet granted them by having the blood of Fallen elves. It seemed fairly standard, though, in proportion, for that of a dark elf...though one who was considered a heretic from the very day of her birth. That had not been her fault, but that of her parents, and one cannot usually choose what society they become a member of.
Her skin was dark, though not the flawless ebony that some posessed. It was more of a muted, dusky grey, rather like ash or smoke.
As jewels, her sanguine eyes, burning despite the terrible cold, stood out upon her slender face; dark lips and long, pointed ears peeking from beneath strands of feathery raven-hued hair which quivered slightly, as she exhaled a cloud of vapourized air,much akin to the reaction of her cloak's hood. It was black, as were the remainder of her garments; light leather armour (with fitted black shirt and leggings worn underneath, as well as form-fitted boots that climbed to her knees) made for stealth, and not offering as much protection as the armour of the average warrior. Of course, she only wore this because she had skill, and was not reckless, as they were. Also, she did not happen to follow the path of the warrior. She happened to be an assassin. Correction: a former assassin. Her career, as far as she knew, had ended.But it had rightful cause to, no matter how much displeasure it brought. She had been seen while on a contract, held prisoner by the very man shehad meant to eliminate, pressed for information. She had the slit in her ear, a scar, to prove that. That, however, had been weakness, incompetence, and betrayal. Thus, being expelled. Who knew, they might wish her dead, now, as well.
