A light breeze flew through the sea of grass, making the blades ripple as if they were waves. On one side of the large grass covered clearing a waterfall filled the air with it's thunderous roar. The water in the deep pool that the mighty fall had created was clear as crystal, and it's depth was impossible to surmise with sight alone. The fall was easily over five hundred feet tall and great wet stones protruded at random intervals from the great cliff which it spilled over. There was no visible end to the fall, presumably because the fall fed an underground waterway of some sort. The rest of the large grassy clearing was for the most part smooth grass, save for a very large boulder which laid roughly in it's center. A few smaller ones dotted the area. The clearing was surrounded by tall ancient trees on three sides, the exception being of course the side with the great cliff and the waterfall. It was a place of sublime and unblemished beauty. A place of innocence and elemental playfulness. But it was doubtful it would remain so. Upon an average waist height boulder sat a man. A man with blood red pupils.
The man's frame stood at the height of six feet and seven inches. His body was a peculiar mixture of strong hard muscles and smaller flexible ones, coming together in a way that gave out the fatally wrong impression of average build. The man's hair was the color of the darkest night, and hung just pass his shoulders. It was neither flat nor lustrous. Yet, it emanated a certain beauty, a head of hair for which the best of mummers would kill for. The man's skin was pale white. A white deep in contrast with the mixture of even whiter scar lines and the strange black tattoo like symbols that snaked around it. The markings were intricate and connected, not unlike depictions of chains on the visible areas of the man's skin which were mainly his neck and face. The man was clothed in a scaly armor as dark as his hair. Scales that seemed to glimmer at times not with light, but with a darker darkness to them. Upon his feet and forearms were steel plated boots and gauntlets respectively. Only the outside of the boots and guantlets featured steel. The insides were padded black leather. Only two weapons were visible on the man. On his back was a ridiculously over sized-five feet in total including the half foot long hilt-katana. The sheath was a strange green-black mixture, and the hilt was fashioned after a great serpent bearing it's fangs. The other weapon was a wide foot long dagger which hung from the man's waist on his left side. It looked very unkempt and the hilt was rusted beyond recognition. The sheath was a far darker black than the man's hair. It seemed as if light shunned it entirely. The weapon seemed to exude a aura of darkness just by it's looks. The only detail still distinguishable on the hilt of the blade was a marking on it's side, where presumably the man's palm would rest. The marking was identical to the patterns of the serpentine tattoos that covered the man's skin.
The man that sat upon the rock lifted a handmade cigar to his lips and with uncanny speed lighted it using the spark from two rough black objects which he placed back inside some crevice in his armor almost as soon as he had taken them out. He then took a long drag and exhaled a thin line of smoke, seeming to ignore completely the other presence which was unmistakeably somewhere near. Although where he did not know, for he had no bothered to check beyond the acknowledging of it's existence. He was never one to start introductions this one. A bad habit. A necessary tool of his trade.
RolePlayGateway™
Read. Write. Roleplay.
RPG Write | RPG Jobs | RPG Quotes | RPG Store | Recent Changes (!)
Forum rules
Don't forget to record the results of your fights in the Hall of Records! With enough prestige, you could win a spot on the top 10 list or even be invited to the Grand Tournament, which only takes place once every two years.
Don't forget to record the results of your fights in the Hall of Records! With enough prestige, you could win a spot on the top 10 list or even be invited to the Grand Tournament, which only takes place once every two years.
Tiko VS Dashmiel (Spar)
Topic Tags:
First post:
•
3 posts
• Page 1 of 1
Tiko VS Dashmiel (Spar) ( )
by Abaddon on Fri Oct 08, 2010 6:55 am
A brand new RP frontier!
-
Abaddon - Member for 4 years
Re: Tiko VS Dashmiel (Spar) ( )
by Tiko on Fri Oct 08, 2010 11:11 pm
Whisper flowed through the night, looking little more than an ethereal wraith as the moonlight bathed her pale skin and white hair in its silvery glow. She was fleeting and graceful and her steps so light as to not even leave a sound of her passing as she flitted between the trees. Her movements were swift and left the cool night air tugging at her clothes, though her breathing was even and unlabored. Eyes unfocused and distant, the passions of the music and insanity that filled her head drove her forth.
She was largely unaware of where was going but as she neared the clearing her movements stopped and she froze just inside its perimeter opposite the waterfall. She seemed to draw back to herself a bit, as her eyes refocused and fell on the man sitting atop the rock. A flicker of amusement crossed her expression as her lips twitched into the subtlest of smiles. It was a beautiful evening and the scenery could not have been more fitting. Perfect for dancing that is, and the forest had been kind enough to grace her with a partner perhaps.
Standing motionless, her eyes drifted closed and she exhaled softly, her mind working in over-drive despite the outward calm her body was displaying. Blanketing the area in her telekinetic web, she began rapidly feeling out the clearing. She scanned her immediate vicinity initially but within a few moments expanded outward further to blanket the entire clearing. All in all the entire process would take but a minute to draw the area out within her mind down to even the dewdrops on the grass. She was searching for the presence of others; though her scan turned up none save for the man atop the rock. However, given the number of assassins and bounty hunters she has had to dodge over the past months, meeting a stranger in the woods did compel a sense of caution within her. Unfortunately, caution was not really her thing and she ignored the compulsion.
"Tell me, do you dance?" she called lightly as she opened her eyes and began to walk further into the clearing, her movements purposeful and graceful - almost as if every motion were part of a dance too subtle to make out the steps. However, Whisper's definition of dancing was highly variable, leaning anywhere from more traditional meanings of the word, to outright violence. Really, it largely depended on her ever fleeting mood, though the mischief in her eyes hinted at the latter of intentions for the time being.
Her steps came to a pause again about midway between the forest line she had entered from and the man atop the rock, waiting for some sign of intentions or a reply.
Whisper herself did not look like much standing there, frail and lithe. She was just a wisp of a girl and could not have been more than a hundred pounds, give or take a few and it seemed almost as if a strong wind could break her - though she was sturdier than she appeared. Her entire outfit was light and loosely fitted and seemed to offer little in the way of actual protection. A sleeveless top that laced around her neck bared her shoulders and back entirely, the skirt though falling past her knees was slit up either side to allow for movement, and even the boots were of a light canvas like material rather than leather. Full-length cloth gloves covered her hands and arms from finger tip to near shoulder held in place by gold metallic bands that entwined around her upper arms. The gloves served two purposes, one personal - due to the effects her touch had on people and the other to conceal the black tattoo located on the back of her forearm.
At her waist hung a sash along with a small pouch of focus crystals and a small wand like object that looked like it could be a weapon of some nature or another. It almost appeared to be a double-ended spear aside for the fact that it was only about half a foot in length. Atop her head, she wore a silver circlet with three focus crystals affixed to its front, to better fine tune and direct her psychic abilities for enhanced potency and efficiency.
She was largely unaware of where was going but as she neared the clearing her movements stopped and she froze just inside its perimeter opposite the waterfall. She seemed to draw back to herself a bit, as her eyes refocused and fell on the man sitting atop the rock. A flicker of amusement crossed her expression as her lips twitched into the subtlest of smiles. It was a beautiful evening and the scenery could not have been more fitting. Perfect for dancing that is, and the forest had been kind enough to grace her with a partner perhaps.
Standing motionless, her eyes drifted closed and she exhaled softly, her mind working in over-drive despite the outward calm her body was displaying. Blanketing the area in her telekinetic web, she began rapidly feeling out the clearing. She scanned her immediate vicinity initially but within a few moments expanded outward further to blanket the entire clearing. All in all the entire process would take but a minute to draw the area out within her mind down to even the dewdrops on the grass. She was searching for the presence of others; though her scan turned up none save for the man atop the rock. However, given the number of assassins and bounty hunters she has had to dodge over the past months, meeting a stranger in the woods did compel a sense of caution within her. Unfortunately, caution was not really her thing and she ignored the compulsion.
"Tell me, do you dance?" she called lightly as she opened her eyes and began to walk further into the clearing, her movements purposeful and graceful - almost as if every motion were part of a dance too subtle to make out the steps. However, Whisper's definition of dancing was highly variable, leaning anywhere from more traditional meanings of the word, to outright violence. Really, it largely depended on her ever fleeting mood, though the mischief in her eyes hinted at the latter of intentions for the time being.
Her steps came to a pause again about midway between the forest line she had entered from and the man atop the rock, waiting for some sign of intentions or a reply.
Whisper herself did not look like much standing there, frail and lithe. She was just a wisp of a girl and could not have been more than a hundred pounds, give or take a few and it seemed almost as if a strong wind could break her - though she was sturdier than she appeared. Her entire outfit was light and loosely fitted and seemed to offer little in the way of actual protection. A sleeveless top that laced around her neck bared her shoulders and back entirely, the skirt though falling past her knees was slit up either side to allow for movement, and even the boots were of a light canvas like material rather than leather. Full-length cloth gloves covered her hands and arms from finger tip to near shoulder held in place by gold metallic bands that entwined around her upper arms. The gloves served two purposes, one personal - due to the effects her touch had on people and the other to conceal the black tattoo located on the back of her forearm.
At her waist hung a sash along with a small pouch of focus crystals and a small wand like object that looked like it could be a weapon of some nature or another. It almost appeared to be a double-ended spear aside for the fact that it was only about half a foot in length. Atop her head, she wore a silver circlet with three focus crystals affixed to its front, to better fine tune and direct her psychic abilities for enhanced potency and efficiency.
-
Tiko - Administrator
- Member for 2 years
Re: Tiko VS Dashmiel (Spar) ( )
by Abaddon on Wed Feb 09, 2011 1:36 pm
The man atop the boulder continued to calmly enjoy his smoke as he contemplated the beauty of his surroundings. Serenity and peace the likes of which he had sought to be a part of for all of his life, but which he had failed to ever attain. Blood and death were his birthright, violence and murder his inheritance, and conscience his tormentor. He brooded on this and the beauty which surrounded him only briefly, and even then, with only a secondary focus. As true as the motions of the waterfall powered by that undeniable force of gravity, so did his mark flow down to the place where he expected her. He knew nothing of her, save perhaps an alias. He had no idea what her dreams and hopes were, or her likes and dislikes, or even if she woke every morning with mirth or fury. None of this mattered. He was an assassin. To many not merely an assassin, but the assassin. He wasn't sure why people insisted on the distinction, so long as he did his job, what did it matter if he did it like any other or like the other? The only thing he was sure of is that a dark pact was not entered in his name unless the mark was truly a tour de force. With this in mind, the man exhaled a few smoke rings and settled in as the figure slowly approached.
He never once glanced behind him, but he knew at once his mark had entered within the scope of his immediate, if highly polished senses. Steps so light that could not be heard were identified by the ceasing of the low rustle of breeze around a foot shaped area of the swaying grass. This made all the more obvious by the sound of a steady and soft drum, and the bellow of even and steady windpipes. Such were her passing, breathing, and clam made apparent to him, as he tuned his hearing not to the roaring waterfall or the myriad of chitter-patters of the bug, but exclusively to his soon to be prey. He would have been disappointed if this was all there was if not for a soft and gentle exhalation which preceded the moment he knew why the assassin was needed.
He could not truthfully lay claim to fully understanding it, for it was different than him, but it was not entirely alien. One minute there was him, and his quiet and hidden sphere, and the next an all encompassing something like him was trying to intrude, not merely himself, but all around him. His only guess could be some sort of sensing, but it's purposes he could only hypothesize, and gave it little thought since he was certain to find out soon enough anyways.
"Tell me, do you dance?" came the faint whisper in the wind-something he found fitting considering the name he was given for her-racing hundred of miles faster than the sounds of her renewed motion, clearly caught by his hearing as if spoken in a lover's embrace. A thin smile crinkled the sides of his lips at the perceived hidden layers to the innocent question. The man atop the boulder took in one final drag on his cigar, and extinguished it's end. With some regret he placed it once again within his armor, fully aware that it would beyond ruined before long.
He nimbly twisted his legs towards his right and pirouetted in the air as he fell to face his mark. At once all of his senses began recording their input. Much like any assassin, the assassin studied his mark before a pact was fulfilled. The only difference was the degree of intensity in the studying. Sigh, sound, smell, and taste were merged with some other sense and coalesced into something more. He wasn't sure what to do with this information, as he had no way of prying further without actively seeking more, much the same she had, but subtly different. He wasn't sure he wanted the knowledge of that particular trait revealed just yet, and he was certain it would be immediately if he did, much in the same way he felt that strangeness clash with his, so would his with her's. Or so he hypothesized, but would soon find out regardless.
Standing as still as the small figure which beheld him, the man who sat upon the boulder delivered his response, in a rich and deep voice which flew through the wind with a hint of sounds from a faraway land; "You ask if I dance little one? I do. Though I'm afraid I know but one dance. The dance of blood. My name is Ken Tatsu, and today, I shall be your partner" said Ken as he bowed with a flourish.
He never once glanced behind him, but he knew at once his mark had entered within the scope of his immediate, if highly polished senses. Steps so light that could not be heard were identified by the ceasing of the low rustle of breeze around a foot shaped area of the swaying grass. This made all the more obvious by the sound of a steady and soft drum, and the bellow of even and steady windpipes. Such were her passing, breathing, and clam made apparent to him, as he tuned his hearing not to the roaring waterfall or the myriad of chitter-patters of the bug, but exclusively to his soon to be prey. He would have been disappointed if this was all there was if not for a soft and gentle exhalation which preceded the moment he knew why the assassin was needed.
He could not truthfully lay claim to fully understanding it, for it was different than him, but it was not entirely alien. One minute there was him, and his quiet and hidden sphere, and the next an all encompassing something like him was trying to intrude, not merely himself, but all around him. His only guess could be some sort of sensing, but it's purposes he could only hypothesize, and gave it little thought since he was certain to find out soon enough anyways.
"Tell me, do you dance?" came the faint whisper in the wind-something he found fitting considering the name he was given for her-racing hundred of miles faster than the sounds of her renewed motion, clearly caught by his hearing as if spoken in a lover's embrace. A thin smile crinkled the sides of his lips at the perceived hidden layers to the innocent question. The man atop the boulder took in one final drag on his cigar, and extinguished it's end. With some regret he placed it once again within his armor, fully aware that it would beyond ruined before long.
He nimbly twisted his legs towards his right and pirouetted in the air as he fell to face his mark. At once all of his senses began recording their input. Much like any assassin, the assassin studied his mark before a pact was fulfilled. The only difference was the degree of intensity in the studying. Sigh, sound, smell, and taste were merged with some other sense and coalesced into something more. He wasn't sure what to do with this information, as he had no way of prying further without actively seeking more, much the same she had, but subtly different. He wasn't sure he wanted the knowledge of that particular trait revealed just yet, and he was certain it would be immediately if he did, much in the same way he felt that strangeness clash with his, so would his with her's. Or so he hypothesized, but would soon find out regardless.
Standing as still as the small figure which beheld him, the man who sat upon the boulder delivered his response, in a rich and deep voice which flew through the wind with a hint of sounds from a faraway land; "You ask if I dance little one? I do. Though I'm afraid I know but one dance. The dance of blood. My name is Ken Tatsu, and today, I shall be your partner" said Ken as he bowed with a flourish.
-
Abaddon - Member for 4 years
First post:
•
3 posts
• Page 1 of 1
Post a reply
-
RolePlayGateway is a site built by a couple roleplayers who wanted to give a little something back to the roleplay community. The site has no intention of earning any profit, and is paid for out of their own pockets.
If you appreciate what they do, feel free to donate your spare change to help feed them on the weekends. After selecting the amount you want to donate from the menu, you can continue by clicking on PayPal logo.
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests
Our Sponsors
RolePlayGateway is proudly powered by obscene amounts of caffeine, duct tape, Wordpress, Moodle, phpBB, AJAX Chat, Mantis, support from Mary Bedard (biochemist, photographer, and adventurer!). and the efforts of many dedicated writers and roleplayers. It operates under a "don't like it, suggest an improvement" platform, and we gladly take suggestions for improvements or changes.
The custom-built "roleplay" system was designed and implemented by Eric Martindale as of July 2009. All attempts to replicate or otherwise emulate this system and its method of organizing roleplay are strictly prohibited without his express written and contractual permission; violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
© RolePlayGateway, LLC