Post by engelbert on Jan 13, 2008 15:52:39 GMT
Username: Engelbert
How You Heard About Us: I am an admin, therefore no one told me.
Previous Roleplaying Experience: Roleplaying for a number of years on neopets, both on the boards and one-on-one. RPG characters taking part in the roleplaying community on World of Warcraft. Limited experience with one or two forums.
Roleplay Example:
"A lone figure swayed uncertainly as it made its way down the abandoned streets. At this time of night it was rare to see many folks around, most moonlighters preferring to stick to the shadows where they could watch in safety.
The figure came to a halt by the window of a tavern. In the flickering glow of the candlelight emanating from the window, the figure’s more defining features could be seen.
Greasy, dark hair hung limply upon the man’s face. This could be considered a blessing by some as the mentioned face was not a delight to behold. Scars, faint with age, criss-crossed his features, circling eyes that were red and bleary.
The man coughed gently, just enough to be heard, before breaking down into a much harsher hacking cough. With a grimace he spat the foul contents of his mouth onto the street and continued on his way.
Despite his demeanour, the gentleman in question was not of a great age. His hair had not had begun to grey and his eyes, when not squinting through a drunken haze, were not yet the home of wrinkles. It was not known how old ‘Old Simon’ really was, but it was of general opinion that he probably wouldn’t live for many more seasons if he continued to drink to such excess.
Uttering quiet oaths under his breath, Old Simon delved deep into the pockets of the dirty tan-coloured coat he wore. This was no easy task as the garment swathed him from collar to knee and seemed to boast a great many pockets. Occasionally the direction he still walked in would change as his feet decided to follow the direction of his hands, but never-the-less he seemed to continue in roughly the right direction. After some time, and an unfortunate side-step into some creature’s faeces, Old Simon seemed to find what he had been searching for. A great pipe was withdrawn from an inner pocket and a small silver tinderbox.
With great difficulty Old Simon propped himself against the wall of a building and drew up his foot so that his boot sat upon the knee of his straightened leg. Using the flaking leather boot as a seat for a small amount of tobacco, he deftly struck two small pieces of flint together until the dried shredded leaves caught alight. He picked up these leaves and crammed them quickly into the pipe before his fingers could be burned too badly.
His thin lips formed a crooked smile as he inhaled smoke from the pipe and once again continued on his way. After all, when a man has his pipe he can be sure that all is good in the world."
How You Heard About Us: I am an admin, therefore no one told me.
Previous Roleplaying Experience: Roleplaying for a number of years on neopets, both on the boards and one-on-one. RPG characters taking part in the roleplaying community on World of Warcraft. Limited experience with one or two forums.
Roleplay Example:
"A lone figure swayed uncertainly as it made its way down the abandoned streets. At this time of night it was rare to see many folks around, most moonlighters preferring to stick to the shadows where they could watch in safety.
The figure came to a halt by the window of a tavern. In the flickering glow of the candlelight emanating from the window, the figure’s more defining features could be seen.
Greasy, dark hair hung limply upon the man’s face. This could be considered a blessing by some as the mentioned face was not a delight to behold. Scars, faint with age, criss-crossed his features, circling eyes that were red and bleary.
The man coughed gently, just enough to be heard, before breaking down into a much harsher hacking cough. With a grimace he spat the foul contents of his mouth onto the street and continued on his way.
Despite his demeanour, the gentleman in question was not of a great age. His hair had not had begun to grey and his eyes, when not squinting through a drunken haze, were not yet the home of wrinkles. It was not known how old ‘Old Simon’ really was, but it was of general opinion that he probably wouldn’t live for many more seasons if he continued to drink to such excess.
Uttering quiet oaths under his breath, Old Simon delved deep into the pockets of the dirty tan-coloured coat he wore. This was no easy task as the garment swathed him from collar to knee and seemed to boast a great many pockets. Occasionally the direction he still walked in would change as his feet decided to follow the direction of his hands, but never-the-less he seemed to continue in roughly the right direction. After some time, and an unfortunate side-step into some creature’s faeces, Old Simon seemed to find what he had been searching for. A great pipe was withdrawn from an inner pocket and a small silver tinderbox.
With great difficulty Old Simon propped himself against the wall of a building and drew up his foot so that his boot sat upon the knee of his straightened leg. Using the flaking leather boot as a seat for a small amount of tobacco, he deftly struck two small pieces of flint together until the dried shredded leaves caught alight. He picked up these leaves and crammed them quickly into the pipe before his fingers could be burned too badly.
His thin lips formed a crooked smile as he inhaled smoke from the pipe and once again continued on his way. After all, when a man has his pipe he can be sure that all is good in the world."
