Post by Cymbal_ on Aug 5, 2019 13:49:08 GMT -5
Character you wish to be: Cymbal
Planet you want to start on: Earth
Distribute 2,500 points
Strength: 500
Speed: 1,000
Toughness: 500
Stamina: 250
Vitality: 250
Determination: 3
Charisma: 0
Intelligence: 0
Pick one green fundamental to start with (list here): Mouth Blast
How did you find this site: rpg-d
If you were referred by a member, name them for +100 all stats & +10 DP (they get +10 DP too): n/a
(Required) Email Address: ghostygoo@hotmail.com
(Required)
Planet you want to start on: Earth
Distribute 2,500 points
Strength: 500
Speed: 1,000
Toughness: 500
Stamina: 250
Vitality: 250
Determination: 3
Charisma: 0
Intelligence: 0
Pick one green fundamental to start with (list here): Mouth Blast
How did you find this site: rpg-d
If you were referred by a member, name them for +100 all stats & +10 DP (they get +10 DP too): n/a
(Required) Email Address: ghostygoo@hotmail.com
(Required)
Please include a small sample roleplay. This could be a roleplay that you have done on another site (if so you will be asked for a link to the thread) or it could be a completely unique roleplay written up on the fly. Must be above 300 words. ((Taken from another site.))
A short-lived phantom of a thought erected through paints phantasmal a figure of caramel skin and hair stained a black that easily eclipsed a raven’s benighted down. He donned an attire casual, hooded, shrouding for his amber eyes sought to imbibe little more than the scenery directly before him. He needed not to catch sight of passersby for their eyes just swept passed with steadfast estrangement and he was so inept of a being, returning anything but their soulless apathy was truly an impossibility.
The flickering - the fading image of a creature black, saurian - filth. What events led it into its deranged, fey state - what result the storming order and chaos that is life bestowed upon him drove the shunned, off-putting being to an end as dead as it could be. A town encompassed him, crumbling amidst daming flame as silky, bedimmed netting painted the town into a hellish landscape worthy of the utmost degree of praise provided the scene was confined to just a canvas for artistic critique.
What an unholy, despicable union of souls with an appearance all too fitting. The black salamander sat in a manner suggesting it had been graced with sempiance - not that such a thing mattered for what could be more important than an exterior? Nothing, and such a fact had given birth to another portion of time spent in a bittersweet solitude. It was a relatively proper lotus position, albeit more lax. The meditative state the creature loitered within was a product of both tedium and a seemingly inherited strive for self betterment. Also, he felt properly advancing in the practice of thaumaturgy required routinely engaging in such habits.
His breath had long-since become tethered to the visualization of energy with each inhale prompting the imagining of what his immediate surroundings had to offer with relevance to subtle energies and every inch of his mythical physique absorbing it without restraint. Its conscious, amplified circulation through a subtle system of energetic pathways came easy with practice. The two exercises were performed in tandem. Feelings of desolation evidenced for while hidden beyond the reaches his eyes could grasp, the self, its higher variation, ostensibly observed hearteningly in venerating silence - at least, that was how it felt.
Inconspicuous, beyond what the eye could seize was his aura. For something standing an approximating four feet, the distance his field enclosed was grossly unexpected. Its presence did little more than bolster both his physical and metaphysical abilities. Okua possessed enough adeptness with the magic that came naturally to him, but required delving into its foundations before progressing further. For what purpose? Of course, he had none. Nobody called upon him. Barely anybody knew of his existence and even fewer knew of exactly who or what he was; but then, nobody cared - not unless discovering such a thing became a job for a jewel-hungry wizard. It was a sentiment he could understand.
Nothing is free, which proved true as a faint, sinister, purple radiance began to eclipse his body. Unknowingly cultivating his aura to the point of it becoming visible to the eye cost him time - much time - the continued practice of what he believed to be the foundations of magic. Okua’s surroundings were dipped in the shades of nightfall, so the forested area surrounding him was undoubtedly grateful for taking on a slight tinge of eerie purple. What creepy forest would not appreciate acquiring an even more eerie air that it already possessed in the dead of night.
His return to a level of brainwave less trancing did not immediately dismiss the mellow lull he had been stewing in. While he finished his exercise for the night, he remained exactly where he sat for the lesser half of an hour. The session concluded with a deep breath drawn in, then abandoned as the breath was expelled in a sigh that assisted him in the gathering of his mental facilities. Despite the conclusion of his practice, the awareness that generally presented itself only during persisted for longer than usual. There was evidence of confusion on his bestial face for in that instant, it was not twisted in the impish smile the appearance of his front took on.
“A milestone?” He muttered quietly before entering into a brief chuckle, a laughter that amounted to nigh hissing and stifled. Seemingly, he found something amusing about what he assumed to be the fruit of his efforts. Perhaps he thought of the meaninglessness behind his pursuits. They felt like desires of beings and creatures forgotten by existence itself, but nevertheless persisted within him regardless. He drew another breath afterwards and realized during the descent from his high, his exercises had become more subconscious than not.
Drawing the sorcerous fruit of the land with his breath and dissolving energetic blockages with powerful circulation - it was something done with, at that moment, the most miniscule of conscious effort. He knew with the continuance of what he possessed then, it would become a completely automated practice. Okua pondered upon what could become possible if he progressed to such a state and then placed conscious effort into his newly-developing ability.
“Fantastic…” The word was spoken with an unnecessarily degree of elongation, a result of the words he spoke to himself within the confines of his bedimmed mind occasionally spilling out for nobody around him to hear. Slowly, unhurried, he drew a contemplative finger beneath his snout to rest just at his chin. Inwardly, he inquired as to what he should call this practice. “Something… dramatic… with a lot of flare... Or maybe something simplistic. Hm.” He rose with another breath assisting his rise. Okua entered into a period of stretching as he stood bare amidst a slumbering mother nature. He settled into stance that possessed a slight hunch and fell upon a name he could attribute to something he was likely not the sole practitioner of, but regardless … “Enhalo. Hmm…” He smiled as he thrummed. “I shall call it that just in case anybody inquires about my practices.”
A short-lived phantom of a thought erected through paints phantasmal a figure of caramel skin and hair stained a black that easily eclipsed a raven’s benighted down. He donned an attire casual, hooded, shrouding for his amber eyes sought to imbibe little more than the scenery directly before him. He needed not to catch sight of passersby for their eyes just swept passed with steadfast estrangement and he was so inept of a being, returning anything but their soulless apathy was truly an impossibility.
The flickering - the fading image of a creature black, saurian - filth. What events led it into its deranged, fey state - what result the storming order and chaos that is life bestowed upon him drove the shunned, off-putting being to an end as dead as it could be. A town encompassed him, crumbling amidst daming flame as silky, bedimmed netting painted the town into a hellish landscape worthy of the utmost degree of praise provided the scene was confined to just a canvas for artistic critique.
What an unholy, despicable union of souls with an appearance all too fitting. The black salamander sat in a manner suggesting it had been graced with sempiance - not that such a thing mattered for what could be more important than an exterior? Nothing, and such a fact had given birth to another portion of time spent in a bittersweet solitude. It was a relatively proper lotus position, albeit more lax. The meditative state the creature loitered within was a product of both tedium and a seemingly inherited strive for self betterment. Also, he felt properly advancing in the practice of thaumaturgy required routinely engaging in such habits.
His breath had long-since become tethered to the visualization of energy with each inhale prompting the imagining of what his immediate surroundings had to offer with relevance to subtle energies and every inch of his mythical physique absorbing it without restraint. Its conscious, amplified circulation through a subtle system of energetic pathways came easy with practice. The two exercises were performed in tandem. Feelings of desolation evidenced for while hidden beyond the reaches his eyes could grasp, the self, its higher variation, ostensibly observed hearteningly in venerating silence - at least, that was how it felt.
Inconspicuous, beyond what the eye could seize was his aura. For something standing an approximating four feet, the distance his field enclosed was grossly unexpected. Its presence did little more than bolster both his physical and metaphysical abilities. Okua possessed enough adeptness with the magic that came naturally to him, but required delving into its foundations before progressing further. For what purpose? Of course, he had none. Nobody called upon him. Barely anybody knew of his existence and even fewer knew of exactly who or what he was; but then, nobody cared - not unless discovering such a thing became a job for a jewel-hungry wizard. It was a sentiment he could understand.
Nothing is free, which proved true as a faint, sinister, purple radiance began to eclipse his body. Unknowingly cultivating his aura to the point of it becoming visible to the eye cost him time - much time - the continued practice of what he believed to be the foundations of magic. Okua’s surroundings were dipped in the shades of nightfall, so the forested area surrounding him was undoubtedly grateful for taking on a slight tinge of eerie purple. What creepy forest would not appreciate acquiring an even more eerie air that it already possessed in the dead of night.
His return to a level of brainwave less trancing did not immediately dismiss the mellow lull he had been stewing in. While he finished his exercise for the night, he remained exactly where he sat for the lesser half of an hour. The session concluded with a deep breath drawn in, then abandoned as the breath was expelled in a sigh that assisted him in the gathering of his mental facilities. Despite the conclusion of his practice, the awareness that generally presented itself only during persisted for longer than usual. There was evidence of confusion on his bestial face for in that instant, it was not twisted in the impish smile the appearance of his front took on.
“A milestone?” He muttered quietly before entering into a brief chuckle, a laughter that amounted to nigh hissing and stifled. Seemingly, he found something amusing about what he assumed to be the fruit of his efforts. Perhaps he thought of the meaninglessness behind his pursuits. They felt like desires of beings and creatures forgotten by existence itself, but nevertheless persisted within him regardless. He drew another breath afterwards and realized during the descent from his high, his exercises had become more subconscious than not.
Drawing the sorcerous fruit of the land with his breath and dissolving energetic blockages with powerful circulation - it was something done with, at that moment, the most miniscule of conscious effort. He knew with the continuance of what he possessed then, it would become a completely automated practice. Okua pondered upon what could become possible if he progressed to such a state and then placed conscious effort into his newly-developing ability.
“Fantastic…” The word was spoken with an unnecessarily degree of elongation, a result of the words he spoke to himself within the confines of his bedimmed mind occasionally spilling out for nobody around him to hear. Slowly, unhurried, he drew a contemplative finger beneath his snout to rest just at his chin. Inwardly, he inquired as to what he should call this practice. “Something… dramatic… with a lot of flare... Or maybe something simplistic. Hm.” He rose with another breath assisting his rise. Okua entered into a period of stretching as he stood bare amidst a slumbering mother nature. He settled into stance that possessed a slight hunch and fell upon a name he could attribute to something he was likely not the sole practitioner of, but regardless … “Enhalo. Hmm…” He smiled as he thrummed. “I shall call it that just in case anybody inquires about my practices.”
