Roleplay

6375

May 08, 2015 15:47:55

To summarize for peeps who do not want to read a wall of text: THIS WILL BE A DARK AND BLOODY ROLEPLAY. LEAVE IF YOU DO NOT LIKE.
This WILL BE a violent roleplay. If you dislike blood and gore, then I don't think you should be here.
Another note before I get too detailed; This is a roleplay about dragons whose hearts are darkened, or their claws covered in blood. This is about the dark and evil, so I want some characters who can fight. Be it magic or with tooth and claw, it works. Also, make sure your character is WILLING to fight for something. I don't want a lot of pacifists here. It's okay if one or two come, but if the first dragon that comes here will need to be a somewhat violent dragon. I will be a bit lax with accepting dragons, but we're playing with basically antagonists here. So bad dragons. Evil, bad dragons.

OOC Thread Here!
~~GO THERE IF YOU WISH TO JOIN. ANY OOC MESSAGES WILL BE IGNORED IF THEY ARE POSTED HERE.~~ This thread is currently closed to new members as of right now. You can always asked to be put on the reserved list, but you won't get in until a member drops out.

Okay! So first things first, the rules:

This is a Fight Rising roleplay. Nothing else.
As always, no godmodding/controlling others' characters.
No Mary Sue/Gary Stu dragons! I prefer if dragons have a balance, but I'm quite flexible with this rule.
Please PLEASE PLEASE don't write a one-lined post. It has to have at least 3 minimum, or 3 sentences.
Tell me if you're going to be inactive!
Violence is allowed! Make it as gory as you like, but if someone has a problem then I'll ask you to tone it down a bit.
I would prefer if romance didn't get any farther than fluff. If anything gets worse than that, then I'd prefer if that was on a different thread than mine.
POST AT LEAST ONCE EVERY 1-2 DAYS. Not doing so will slow the roleplay down, and everyone will quickly lose interest. I'm not saying you have to stay on 24-7, but at least check once every afternoon, please.

That's all for now.

Lore:
Spreading from the borders of the Plague and Shadow territories, there lies a land of the most hated and feared dragons. Neither deity wants to take responsibility with these horrible dragons, and they leave them alone. Trapped in the thorns of the Tangled Woods and infected by the disease of the Scarred Wasteland, these dragon strive.
Food is scarce, and friendships and bonds are rare. Many of them fight for fun or for sport. Blood covers the ground, and leaders only rise by force. Nobody here is trustworthy, but left to die. No dragons shall leave these lands of the underworld.
Most dragons here have fled from approaching clans who thirst for revenge, or from the wrath of the great Eleven that control this world. Very few stray into these woods by accident. Others who claim themselves pure, such as priests and mages, still try to cleanse the souls of these corrupted, though they never come back out.
Everyone knows one thing: They're there for a reason.
And they better get used to their new life.

After years of relative inactivity, there seems to be a group of dragons deciding to join together. Their plans are unknown, but the alliance of wicked, intelligent, and powerful dragons can never be a good thing.
Though trouble is rising, it could collapse within itself, or grow to a power even the gods will need to turn their heads towards...
The rest of Sornieth is unknowing of what goes on within...
The Darkest Reaches.

Characters/Dark Dragons:
@Scryzze - Depthine and Trell
@TheBestiary - Noipyla
@CrazyRedFire - Sin
@Ciphers - Eulalia
@Rinjichan13 - Nimia
@DarkDragonfly - Denvye
@AllieKatterra - Celeste
@SmilingScorpio - The Ringmaster and her crew
@IvoryMuffin - Lynette

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Last edited on Aug 10, 2015 17:43:59 by Scryzze

[b]Image:[/b] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=12307104] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/123072/12307104_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Name:[/b] Depthine [b]Age:[/b] She looks fairly young, almost ageless. [b]Personality:[/b] A dragon with a sharper bite than bark. She is a cruel, vicious dragon, with a large lack of care for others. She will not hesitate to pull another dragon apart if they as so much as talk to her. She enjoys using her status as a Guardian dragon to lure others into a false sense of security, though she has no care for honor. [b]Backstory:[/b] She hatched fairly normal; a Guardian with the will to guard. Her hatchling and fledgeling years were the same, boring pace. Nobody was dead, and everyone was happy. She left on a journey, as most Guardian dragons do, to look for a normal Charge to guard with her normal life. At the day of her departure, she wished for a change. Anything to give her something interesting; something that gave her [i]character[/i]. Not hearing any reply to her silent plea, she left. A few days after her leaving, she was confronted with the rotting, stinking, dead corpse of what used to be a dragon. At first she felt repulsed, or at least she thought. A new feeling grew in her. One of acceptance. Passing the dead dragon, she had continued on, still looking for anything worthy. Days passed before anything notably [i]not normal[/i] happened. A companion joined her. Another Guardian, much like herself, was searching for a Charge. Though he was much different. He was weak, fragile. Puny and a coward, who fled at any sense of danger. Not too long after meeting this other dragon, her thoughts flowed south. [i]Kill him[/i], she thought. [i]Filth like him need not live on this world.[/i] And so as they set camp, she was ready, her claws flexing as she watched him settle down. She wasn't the one to kill him, however. Her plan was interrupted, and trampled down into the dust. Three large, powerful dragons had appeared. The second it took her to realize they weren't friendly was the second her weakling companion died. She had shouted in anger, though not of his death, but of how they had stolen the glory from her. Their claws struck fiercely, tossing her smaller body between them as if she were just a doll. They laughed and taunted, as she felt her bones shatter. She lost her sense of feeling soon afterwards, her vision fading to the sound of crazed laughter and the ripping of her companion's flesh... She had awoken in a small cave, chained to the side. The floor was glittered with jewels of Skydancers, the horns of Imperials, and dozens of shattered bones. The whole cave glowed a red, bloody hue. A month of torture went by, though as each beating passed, she watched and waited for the next time. She grew to be numb to the pain, and even began to enjoy it. On a particularly [i]normal [/i]night, she raised her head off her bloody chest, and gave a smile. A smile that was broken, and filled with the blood of those who shall fall before her. In a sweet, cruel voice, she asked them, her words dripping with malice; [i]May I join you in your hunt?[/i] [b]Time compared to Flight Rising's time:[/b] Two hours ahead.

Scryzze

6375

May 08, 2015 15:59:19

Image:

Name: Depthine
Age: She looks fairly young, almost ageless.
Personality: A dragon with a sharper bite than bark. She is a cruel, vicious dragon, with a large lack of care for others. She will not hesitate to pull another dragon apart if they as so much as talk to her. She enjoys using her status as a Guardian dragon to lure others into a false sense of security, though she has no care for honor.
Backstory:
She hatched fairly normal; a Guardian with the will to guard.
Her hatchling and fledgeling years were the same, boring pace. Nobody was dead, and everyone was happy.
She left on a journey, as most Guardian dragons do, to look for a normal Charge to guard with her normal life. At the day of her departure, she wished for a change. Anything to give her something interesting; something that gave her character. Not hearing any reply to her silent plea, she left.
A few days after her leaving, she was confronted with the rotting, stinking, dead corpse of what used to be a dragon. At first she felt repulsed, or at least she thought. A new feeling grew in her. One of acceptance. Passing the dead dragon, she had continued on, still looking for anything worthy. Days passed before anything notably not normal happened.
A companion joined her. Another Guardian, much like herself, was searching for a Charge. Though he was much different. He was weak, fragile. Puny and a coward, who fled at any sense of danger. Not too long after meeting this other dragon, her thoughts flowed south. Kill him, she thought. Filth like him need not live on this world. And so as they set camp, she was ready, her claws flexing as she watched him settle down.
She wasn't the one to kill him, however. Her plan was interrupted, and trampled down into the dust. Three large, powerful dragons had appeared. The second it took her to realize they weren't friendly was the second her weakling companion died. She had shouted in anger, though not of his death, but of how they had stolen the glory from her.
Their claws struck fiercely, tossing her smaller body between them as if she were just a doll. They laughed and taunted, as she felt her bones shatter. She lost her sense of feeling soon afterwards, her vision fading to the sound of crazed laughter and the ripping of her companion's flesh...
She had awoken in a small cave, chained to the side. The floor was glittered with jewels of Skydancers, the horns of Imperials, and dozens of shattered bones. The whole cave glowed a red, bloody hue.
A month of torture went by, though as each beating passed, she watched and waited for the next time. She grew to be numb to the pain, and even began to enjoy it. On a particularly normal night, she raised her head off her bloody chest, and gave a smile. A smile that was broken, and filled with the blood of those who shall fall before her. In a sweet, cruel voice, she asked them, her words dripping with malice;
May I join you in your hunt?

Time compared to Flight Rising's time: Two hours ahead.

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Last edited on May 08, 2015 17:38:41 by Scryzze

@Scryzze ~~~ [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=12428847] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/124289/12428847_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Name:[/b] Unravel [b]Age:[/b] Looks to be youngling, as if in her teenage years [b]Personality:[/b] [i]"In this twisted world, my form grows more and more transparent, 'till it can't be seen. Please don't find me...don't look upon me. In this world someone else imagined, I simply don't want to hurt you. So please remember me, as vivid as I used to be."[/i] Some would consider her to a transparent person, she is an empty shell of whom she used to be. The skydancer is considered to be a mystery, very little know of her past or anything of her, not many approach her. She is blank a certain wrongness surrounding.... but underneath those hollow eyes there is something brewing, a uncountable darkness and maybe one day something can push her far enough to make her snap. She'll stare at things for hours on end, often seen doing strange tasks or just wandering about, she often will call out of her brother, she is not much anymore, just a fragment of a dragon. [b]Backstory:[/b] She was always a fighter, even after birth. To her is was the law of survival and it was deemed for the strong, the weak would fall behind and be crushed under the boots of the strong. She made sure to prove herself but never gloated or bragged about how she stopped others but often she felt something else, a lingering in her body, the feel of butterflies in her stomach and that "feeling" came in the form of taking the life of another. She didn't think much about it, only that she had committed a grave crime but it was a low ranked dragon, weak in her eyes and she hid the body, and returned, not a single thing was suspected but the feeling grew stronger, after she ignored it, pushed it away. It would come back stronger and then is when tragedy would come. Never would a single dragon be spared, their lives came in her eyes were the same. She came, not bothering to say a single thing, merely raking her claws across the face of another and that was when the massacre begin. She doesn't remember much when she was in that state merely the color red and soon she came back to reality. Her claws dipped in the blood of clanmates, and the corpses of dragons surrounding her like a battlefield, not a single one did survive and she fled, becoming like she was today. She sought refuge in this horrid place, just came. Not a single one questioned her beliefs or asked what had happened. She was welcomed with open arms and cruel smiles like her own. [b]Time compared to Flight Rising's time: [/b] 3 hours ahead

Dimesocket

0

12

43

1905

May 08, 2015 16:20:10

@Scryzze

~~~

Name:
Unravel

Age:
Looks to be youngling, as if in her teenage years

Personality:
"In this twisted world, my form grows more and more transparent, 'till it can't be seen.
Please don't find me...don't look upon me.
In this world someone else imagined, I simply don't want to hurt you.
So please remember me, as vivid as I used to be."

Some would consider her to a transparent person, she is an empty shell of whom she used to be. The skydancer is considered to be a mystery, very little know of her past or anything of her, not many approach her. She is blank a certain wrongness surrounding.... but underneath those hollow eyes there is something brewing, a uncountable darkness and maybe one day something can push her far enough to make her snap. She'll stare at things for hours on end, often seen doing strange tasks or just wandering about, she often will call out of her brother, she is not much anymore, just a fragment of a dragon.

Backstory:
She was always a fighter, even after birth. To her is was the law of survival and it was deemed for the strong, the weak would fall behind and be crushed under the boots of the strong. She made sure to prove herself but never gloated or bragged about how she stopped others but often she felt something else, a lingering in her body, the feel of butterflies in her stomach and that "feeling" came in the form of taking the life of another.

She didn't think much about it, only that she had committed a grave crime but it was a low ranked dragon, weak in her eyes and she hid the body, and returned, not a single thing was suspected but the feeling grew stronger, after she ignored it, pushed it away. It would come back stronger and then is when tragedy would come. Never would a single dragon be spared, their lives came in her eyes were the same. She came, not bothering to say a single thing, merely raking her claws across the face of another and that was when the massacre begin. She doesn't remember much when she was in that state merely the color red and soon she came back to reality. Her claws dipped in the blood of clanmates, and the corpses of dragons surrounding her like a battlefield, not a single one did survive and she fled, becoming like she was today. She sought refuge in this horrid place, just came. Not a single one questioned her beliefs or asked what had happened.

She was welcomed with open arms and cruel smiles like her own.

Time compared to Flight Rising's time:
3 hours ahead

@Scryzze [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=12253553] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/122536/12253553_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Name:[/b] Noipyla [b]Age:[/b] Although Noipyla is actually quite aged, her scales still shine with the sheen of a barely fledged hatchling. Few can guess her real age upon meeting her. [b]Personality:[/b] [i]"Hush, little one. Close your eyes, and I promise your slumber will be peaceful..."[/i] Noipyla is, in the most basic summing up of her essence, a wolf in sheep's clothing. A beautiful, allluring flower that slowly suffocates its victims with a strangling poison. Oh yes, when you meet her, she appears to be a kind, graceful Skydancer that always is seeking to please you. But is she really? ... Ha. [i]"You say you won't hand it over? Well, we'll see about that..."[/i] A cunning, manipulative, and cold-blooded dragon, Noipyla can trick, fool, and blackmail other dragons into becoming mere puppets for her to toy with and dispose at her liking. Integrity? Morality? Those don't exist in her scale of right and wrong; all Noipyla cares about is profit. For herself, of course. She could murder someone without blinking an eye, if that was all it took for her to gain a slip of information that dragon was protecting or even a handful of rare treasures they had previously owned. [i]"You can run, child. But you can never escape. I will always find you, and you will always live in my shadow..."[/i] She never lets her puppets get away. A dragon could go for months, or even years, without hearing from her, and will eventually let out a sigh of relief - only to soon find her breathing down their necks, ready to slaughter them (or worse) if they refuse her request. Nobody - [i] nobody[/i] - has ever managed to completely disappear from her. Yes, Noipyla has known many dragons who mysteriously vanished - and usually, when those vanishings are discovered, she is the one secretly hiding blood underneath her shimmering cloak. [i]"You ask what cloth my cloak is created with? How it moves so elegantly, shimmers and ripples just so? Well the answer, my friend, lurks within the darkest corners of Sornieth... Where the very last memories of my disobedient puppets lie."[/i] [b]Backstory:[/b] [i]When she was young, she spoke of fire.[/i] Noipyla was blessed with a strong surge of prophetic inclination during her early years. She saw fires raging in her dream one night, consuming the dragons of her birth clan, as piercing green eyes stared out of the fire - eyes like her own. She would wake up, gasping and panting, only to be rewarded with laughs and feather ruffles when she told the rest of her clan. [i]When she was young, she had not yet stained her talons with dragon blood.[/i] She awoke with blood on her claws after such a dream, the dark crimson liquid splashed across her feathers and scales. A dragon body, broken and bloodied, lay under her talons, his face still contorted with an expression of disbelief and horror. Indeed, his expression quite matched the rest of the clan's. [i]When she was young, she was driven out of her clan.[/i] Her protests met deaf ears. The dragon was dead, and the blood was on her claws. That was all it took, and the eerie chanting that told of fire and death during her killing of the dragon just made it worse. She was driven out of the clan, and told to never return. She was never again to even approach the clan, left only with a ragged scrap of a blanket in the barren plain. There were no exceptions, even for a hatchling. [i]When she was young, she fell into the clutches of insanity.[/i] It was their fault. It was all their fault. They didn't listen, they didn't help, they didn't try to lift a claw to stop her when she had begun to rip into his scales, they didn't try to actually listen to her. She barely survived, out on her own, catching measly scraps and drinking rainwater. All this time, she was fueled with those dark thoughts, her mind slowly succumbing to the madness that devoured her sanity greedily. But she didn't lose her mind completely; oh no, the madness generously spared her rational thinking... Making her deadlier than a completely insane dragon. [i]When she was young, she glimpsed a prophecy that she would fulfill herself.[/i] One night, her now too-small ragged blanket slung around her shoulders, she slunk back to her clan. Consumed by vengeance, she planted flammable materials in a circle around the clan's lair, and promptly set them on fire. The screaming never ceased, and was blissfully taken in by the owner of the bright green eyes watching the whole scene. By the time morning came, only charred and smoking bodies inhabited the lair, the lush grass untouched. Her tattered scrap of fabric grew into a soft, silky cloak as the fire ceased; and every time she killed a dragon with that cloak on, its color only became more vibrant. [b]Time compared to Flight Rising's time:[/b] 2 hours ahead (waaaah I hope this isn't too long)

yiinji

130

95

538

5481

May 08, 2015 16:58:17

@Scryzze

Name:
Noipyla

Age:
Although Noipyla is actually quite aged, her scales still shine with the sheen of a barely fledged hatchling. Few can guess her real age upon meeting her.

Personality:
"Hush, little one. Close your eyes, and I promise your slumber will be peaceful..."

Noipyla is, in the most basic summing up of her essence, a wolf in sheep's clothing. A beautiful, allluring flower that slowly suffocates its victims with a strangling poison. Oh yes, when you meet her, she appears to be a kind, graceful Skydancer that always is seeking to please you. But is she really? ... Ha.

"You say you won't hand it over? Well, we'll see about that..."

A cunning, manipulative, and cold-blooded dragon, Noipyla can trick, fool, and blackmail other dragons into becoming mere puppets for her to toy with and dispose at her liking. Integrity? Morality? Those don't exist in her scale of right and wrong; all Noipyla cares about is profit. For herself, of course. She could murder someone without blinking an eye, if that was all it took for her to gain a slip of information that dragon was protecting or even a handful of rare treasures they had previously owned.

"You can run, child. But you can never escape. I will always find you, and you will always live in my shadow..."

She never lets her puppets get away. A dragon could go for months, or even years, without hearing from her, and will eventually let out a sigh of relief - only to soon find her breathing down their necks, ready to slaughter them (or worse) if they refuse her request. Nobody - nobody - has ever managed to completely disappear from her. Yes, Noipyla has known many dragons who mysteriously vanished - and usually, when those vanishings are discovered, she is the one secretly hiding blood underneath her shimmering cloak.

"You ask what cloth my cloak is created with? How it moves so elegantly, shimmers and ripples just so? Well the answer, my friend, lurks within the darkest corners of Sornieth... Where the very last memories of my disobedient puppets lie."

Backstory:
When she was young, she spoke of fire.

Noipyla was blessed with a strong surge of prophetic inclination during her early years. She saw fires raging in her dream one night, consuming the dragons of her birth clan, as piercing green eyes stared out of the fire - eyes like her own. She would wake up, gasping and panting, only to be rewarded with laughs and feather ruffles when she told the rest of her clan.

When she was young, she had not yet stained her talons with dragon blood.

She awoke with blood on her claws after such a dream, the dark crimson liquid splashed across her feathers and scales. A dragon body, broken and bloodied, lay under her talons, his face still contorted with an expression of disbelief and horror. Indeed, his expression quite matched the rest of the clan's.

When she was young, she was driven out of her clan.

Her protests met deaf ears. The dragon was dead, and the blood was on her claws. That was all it took, and the eerie chanting that told of fire and death during her killing of the dragon just made it worse. She was driven out of the clan, and told to never return. She was never again to even approach the clan, left only with a ragged scrap of a blanket in the barren plain. There were no exceptions, even for a hatchling.

When she was young, she fell into the clutches of insanity.

It was their fault. It was all their fault. They didn't listen, they didn't help, they didn't try to lift a claw to stop her when she had begun to rip into his scales, they didn't try to actually listen to her. She barely survived, out on her own, catching measly scraps and drinking rainwater. All this time, she was fueled with those dark thoughts, her mind slowly succumbing to the madness that devoured her sanity greedily. But she didn't lose her mind completely; oh no, the madness generously spared her rational thinking... Making her deadlier than a completely insane dragon.

When she was young, she glimpsed a prophecy that she would fulfill herself.

One night, her now too-small ragged blanket slung around her shoulders, she slunk back to her clan. Consumed by vengeance, she planted flammable materials in a circle around the clan's lair, and promptly set them on fire.
The screaming never ceased, and was blissfully taken in by the owner of the bright green eyes watching the whole scene. By the time morning came, only charred and smoking bodies inhabited the lair, the lush grass untouched.
Her tattered scrap of fabric grew into a soft, silky cloak as the fire ceased; and every time she killed a dragon with that cloak on, its color only became more vibrant.

Time compared to Flight Rising's time:
2 hours ahead

(waaaah I hope this isn't too long)

@Dimesocket @TheBestiary
Are you two ready to start, or do you want to wait until someone else comes along?

Scryzze

6375

May 08, 2015 17:06:29

@Dimesocket @TheBestiary
Are you two ready to start, or do you want to wait until someone else comes along?

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@Scryzze
Personally, I think it would be nice if another person showed up. If nobody submits a form in the next five to ten minutes, though, I think we should start.

yiinji

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5481

May 08, 2015 17:09:46

@Scryzze
Personally, I think it would be nice if another person showed up. If nobody submits a form in the next five to ten minutes, though, I think we should start.

@TheBestiary
Okay! I need to make a few tweaks to my dragon's story, and I'll start it off.

Scryzze

6375

May 08, 2015 17:12:20

@TheBestiary
Okay! I need to make a few tweaks to my dragon's story, and I'll start it off.

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@Scryzze
Sounds good!

yiinji

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5481

May 08, 2015 17:12:58

@Scryzze
Sounds good!

@Dimesocket @TheBestiary
((Just a little note, Depthine's ongoing theme will be comparing things being normal and not-normal.))
-

On a particularly normal day, for one who lived in these forbidden lands, the dark Guardian did her best to wipe away blood from her teeth. The taste was pleasant, but it was quite a giveaway to a bloodthirsty dragon. She stepped away from the corpse beneath her feet, which was mauled beyond any point of recognition. She couldn't tell if it were dragon or beast; and she couldn't remember. Her memory didn't contain what or who she killed; just that she had killed. And so, the tallies of death marked up in her head. She enjoyed counting back over them, each one well remembered by the screeching of pain, and the shouts of agony and fear.

Moments after her being lost in thoughts, she gained a look of a fairly normal dragon, her blood-fevered eyes losing their gleam. The dark body moved with poisonous grace, her tail resembling a viper. The crest down her stomach was splatted red; though it always has been. The lies rolled off her tongue. Her wounds, many still bleeding, were wrapped with thick, bloodied bandages; there are many who wish for a fight than words. The Guardian spoke aloud, knowing that her false words and gentle movements wouldn't fool anyone here. She had tried, and those who had thought she were a friend had died. Another tally, another normal death.

In the outside, she felt different; an outcasts, not wanted by even the Plague dragons. But here, in the tangled and rotten forest, she felt normal. She was with her kind, all scheming and planning each others' death. Nobody would mourn her death, nor would she theirs.

((okay it's kinda short but I'm generally bad with starting posts.))

Scryzze