Perception and Tangibility [Sign-ups]

[Enrique]

This role play is a fictional representation of life of those involved. It may or may not be direct representation of those lives, it may have features of real life, without the outreach of supernatural events and characteristics. Episodes revolving around emotions, as well as emotional variability revolving around dramatic episodes, are the centerpiece of the story. The story is free of a prerequisite plot, allowing unexpected turns in the story.

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However, in order to retain the essential realistic idea of the story, several guidelines will be needed.

Character Allowances:
1.) You may use any species of character, real or non-real.

Character Restrictions:
2.) No magic. No exceptions.
3.) No features and/or functions of one's character will be allowed if those features and/or functions would not be available by a human.
4.) Weapons will be allowed; however, they must not exceed realistic proportions.
5.) Please, only one character per person. This includes companion/complementary characters

Conduct Guidelines:
6.) Normal role playing rules apply.
7.) No supernatural events will be allowed. This includes transforming into other forms, flying, or other events that would not be performed by humans.
8.) Over-excessive violence will not be allowed. This role play is not intended to be an "adventure" with "epic battles;" there are no "good" or "evil" sides. However, arguments between characters that result in an occasional scuffle will be allowed.
9.) Proper grammar is heavily advised.
10.) It is expected that a considerable amount of effort will be used. It is not expected that an essay must be posted every time, but two or three sentences won't cut it. About a half a dozen sentences per post or so would be efficient at minimum.

11.) Those who do not comply with the guidelines in the role play will be given a warning upon first offense, and will be ejected from the role play upon second offense.

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Sign up sheet must include (red text denotes requirement; otherwise optional) name, age, description of character, personality of character, history of character, and a role playing sample (this may or may not be from a different role play). Not everyone who signs up will be accepted.

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Accepted Role Players:

Enrique
Contention
Gar
Teo

[contention]

Name: Contention Ardor Physe (Contention)

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Description: With lightly sparkled scales, Contention's body is drenched in odd shade of yellow; a certain color that one could easily remark as the rays in the sun. However, they do not have the same orange tint hidden inside of them. Their pure outright color can be blinding at times, but when provoked the hue can be known to change off and on. Yet, Contention will not fully delude the shade of his being; only cask it in a darker pigment fitting with the up stirred mood. On the top of his head and down to the edge of his shoulder blades lie separate pairs of fronds. These fronds are mere extensions off of the body. Their structure is thin and somewhat similar to that of a leaf. They lie transparent to the rest of the skin, excreting from time to time layers of oil to keep the reptilian exterior at a cool temperature.

Contention's scales are laid within a mosaic pattern, each within that of a different shape. Like a set of tiles they are strung together from top to bottom. If one was to rub from toe to neck their hands would scratch at the surface. Opposing such though, a rub in a direction from head to tail gives the texture of a smooth underside. Extending down as an appendage off of the spine follows the curve of a twisted tail. Due to bones inside of the waist and hip, the tail is known to support heavy weight like burdens. It's mass alone is near that of the occupants body as well as its length. On the bottom portion of the tail one can notice a difference in the toughness of the skin. Contrasting from the rest of the body, this portion is soft and durable. It can easily be punctured with enough force, and as an addition it is accounted for Contention's primitive Counter-Shading.

Taking note of Contention's facial features, one could manage to say that the animated structure resembles that of a prehistoric raptor. Like many amphibian-based creatures, his head extends from the top of long and angled neck. From there the skull connects to the nerve cord, causing the head to be rounded in the back. Of course, this is a normal feature of any un-primitive evolved species, so an explanation is not necessary. As the skull curves round, it eventually connects to the olfactory sacs; these of which establish the snout and muzzle. The nostrils of the snout lie anterior to the muzzle, thus both portions are connected on the interior side of the creature by a hard and soft palate. Extruding from the sides of the muzzle are two pairs of black lips. These lips are known to withhold that of a sticky texture, likely due saliva glands within the interior portion of the mouth. Under the base of the lips are that of the gums; these give way to the separate portions of teeth. Each tooth inside of the muzzle is covered in that of thick enamel, giving them a quick simple glimmer as any smile is formed.

Contention's final features are that of simple accessories accounted for around his frame. When looking at Contention, it is hard to avoid the glare given from the deepness and solitude expressed in the curves and lines of the eye. His pupil is that of a deep red, which is simply canceled out by lighter rings of a blood like luminescence. The same background can be found in tattoo like markings across his body. Each marking stands for a different meaning and can be found on his neck, chest, and stomach.


Personality: The factors of the conscience and sub conscience of this character are highly divulged and riddled throughout his history. His usual take on matters can be that of a harsh liberator. Somewhere in the beaten ridges of Contention’s thoughts lies the need of approval, a sense of an ego in the mass of utter delusion. Throughout these cringing factors one could find the scent of broken faith, somehow or another created from the consuming flames of belief. Over time, Contention’s views of the world have grown and matured. His average longing of life from youth is reluctantly replaced by a cringing desire to traverse the barren fields of death. At times, he can come to question his own sanity; feeling controlled by a lust beyond his very eyes. Deep in that loop-hole his heart beats for a savoring gesture of love. Yet, all seem to turn at his very up rise; those teeth constantly turning up into a perverse grin.

If one should be able to dream, Contention would not play along the lines of mortal justice. Dreams seem to be a thing of the past; he can only comprehend the real and the natural. Those plays of illusion have since long passed into an infernal cavern, constantly burying deeper and deeper into his mind. The opening seems long lost, blocked somehow by the crags that he has dropped; those crags erupted from the very sight of his abandonment. In lush quantity, his soul gallops on light strings, down the path where all shines blind. Where there is mystery, Contention shall search for an answer; even in the confines of his very cell. Yet, unlike others, he does not long for the simple notch of a key. Basking in his very subdued space seems proper, like a punishment deserved from the past. For reasons unknown, Contention can not escape the pull of what was once done. He lets it bite at his heels, constantly tearing at the muscle. His hands could swipe at the pain, yet something seems to whisper in his ear, telling him that resistance is futile.

If the dead could speak, then their lips are in sight of Contention’s eyes. His body cringes, constantly shifting away from the fear. Yet, in that structure he does not hand out the natural bask of emotions; his fist constantly clutches onto that dripping rag. As tattered as things may become, his mind deludes from the positive manner of society. He searches for another path, one not marked by many feet. Originality is something so rare, and something which much be obtained by self-approval. When the going turns rancid, Contention drives himself into the hands of a cradle. The cradle on which he comforted as a youth, remembering the slight touch of the morning. The dew that never reached the ground, the flavor of the brisk air that never arrived. All he can do is imagine, imagine within the walls of a mind driven by the fall.

History: Where stories play, Contention’s tale is one on the very rim of order and self-influence. Constantly torn between two sides, like all mortals, Contention’s livelihood was masked by the want to become something. Born into a noble family, his child-hood years were stable, sewn to the obvious manner of reality. Where there were hardships, Contention did not travel, for he was pampered gently in the hands of Clergy. It was a natural matter in his society for one to be taken from their family, merely in the end to be raised on the moral values justified by the lips of elders. However, Contention was somewhat misplaced from the normal stature of his species. Established in the likely-hood of a Kig-Yar, his body was disfigured from the straight set of his peers. Unlike others, his bones seemed to double that of the average length. In the back, a tail seemed to protrude, and such was an oddity for any others of his kind. In fact, his self in whole was different from anything any of the elders had ever laid their eyes upon. They were interested in his very manner, even enough to drag him away from the family he once loved.

Their intentions were never quite shown; they seemed to be shaded behind their crooked expressions. Somehow, they buried all acts of their illusions into a melting drawer; from which no hand or lip could ever reap. As time grew, they held Contention in their grasp, constantly molding his every feature to their liking. His mind became scolded in every aspect of law; his very sense of emotion had long been disregarded. It was during this time that any actions hidden had slowly come to surface. All things began to make sense, the true intentions of what had long been sought feel into play. By order of the Clergy, Contention was ordered to help lead an overthrow in the base of the government. Strange enough, he would have to turn the cheek to those he once loved. His family had long grown their roots into nobility; their very existence depended upon the well being of the society around them.

Contention was not one to wait though, without thinking he single-handedly destroyed any signs of his past. Ridding of everyone whom he had ever cared for, his heart despised each feature of their faces. With his goal at hand, Contention was turned round once more, straight into the palms of those whom had stolen him from the womb. Their teeth grinned; their faces squinted at what he had become. They had moved all along, playing him as a piece to lead them higher into power. However, leaving behind what they had established was something they could not risk. With deaf ears, they did not listen to a word the Kig-Yar would plea; his prayers went unanswered, punishment for the crimes he had long committed. At last they tumbled his dreams aside, sending what was left of the creature into an exile. While they did not yearn to leave him any scoundrels of necessities, something inside them gave them a since of leniency. Strangely enough, they allowed Contention not to be executed but simply banished to an off system out of Covenant control.

It was here that Contention would start to plan means of revenge; his once burrowed heart had become brim-full with the sin of desire. Every flashing thought in his conscience returned to those that had betrayed him, sending him into his very own endless-pit. Sadly, or so it seemed, Contention’s desires to return to the home he was expelled so harshly from would never be granted. The ones that had crushed him under their weight still played in the winnings, forever to stain those greedy fingers on the seals of denial. It would be this punishment, the knowledge of the darkness that would keep Contention alive. His hands could not reach it; he was forever too weak to take on those that had taken all away from him. Truly, the only option left at his hand was to wait and ponder; slowly driving himself to a death. Death it seemed would be the only escape from his misery. The loss of love, the burden buried in his emotions, and the weight carried upon his shoulders would all dissolve in the soot of the ground.

Role Play Sample:

With a blinding glare, the sun shone with a fury unexplainable by any mortal lips; its rays seemed to dance upon the horizon, constantly tapping it with a question never to be answered. It slowly seemed to fall, as if the strings holding it above had snapped; every second that appeared merely seemed to sign the token of the beast’s death. Behind it ran, or so it seemed, a thief cringing on the delusion of absolute rule. The tyrant had left the throne, slinking unto His bed of wilted posies; its child followed hereafter, with eyes shining of a dim innocence. Yet any could see the intentions of the rascal, bringing his regions of followers alongside. Their eyes deemed them unruly, constantly flashing to and fro in a series of disgust.

A queer blanket subdued them, woven in the seam of time; nothing could remove it. With bliss it seemed to kiss the dancing demons; tying them in its web. Round and round they went, like an eternal top that never ended; a child’s delusion which littered the skies of reality. Without expression, the world’s beastly eyes would gaze above, sighing silently in the warmth of the quilt. All seemed well, all seemed to follow; yet what was there could not always be described, such threatened the solemn winds. Their fingers glided left and right, as if it was they who knitted the stitch of faith. Yet any could see behind their fabled faces that twisted grin and untwirled curl. Wild, like the pigmies, yet trampled in size; their feet were placed on which they wished.

T’was there that sat the drooping pendulum; marked in despair, its face glazed at the reminiscence of the essence looming. Its lips traversed, or so it seemed, downwards into a snarl; biting in a curled fashion at their edges. A bright gloom appeared beneath them, a dense white bleeding through the threads of crimson. With what appeared as worry, its eyes tarried about; the stains beneath them seemed to derive from the thought at hand. Something troubled it, for its hands twiddled about as well; fingers constantly locked in a crossing fashion. At last, its mouth seemed to part, the tendons of soft flesh slowly rising. Briskly, a soft breeze emitted from the throat, warm at the first touch yet robed in the scent of past meals.

At once, the creature quickly turned his palms around; their backs facing the barren ground beneath him. As he laid them down, his claws buried into a thick placement of curds; breaking them about, the soft crunch seemed to follow under his nails. With hesitation, the creature turned his head about; as if he was longing for company, yet at the same time fearing the approach of something most rancid.

In a whisper of a breath, seemless words began to emancipate; there image drawn out at the whim of the creator, "Oh you would leave me; cast me aside now would you? Here, alone, I can't always be alone you know," At this, the creature seemed to flare his snout downwards, snorting in some sort of disagreement as a soft giggle elicted from the chords rubbing down in his gullet, "Don't die, you fail me if you choose to do so! Woe, haunt me I plea! Just don't leave me here to abide in these cries."

[Enrique]

Name: Enrique (Rzlowieszczyk)
Age: 16
Description: Enrique is a light-blue Yoshi who wears a white shirt, green shoes, and a black and white hat. He stands at about five foot seven inches and is average in weight.
Personality: Enrique is an intelligent person who likes to show it off at times. He usually remains in a calm mood, and rarely changes out of it. He is not one who likes to fight; he instead co-ordinates others to fight.
History: Enrique is very much just an ordinary Yoshi. Since he was young, he has been interested in the field of meteorology. He spent the majority of his brief life trying to understand the most complex of all sciences and mathematics, which led him to his interests in climatology, which he spends a considerable amount of his time researching.

Sample: Link. (Post from Y5.)

[Not-Garr]

Name: Garral Yulong

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Description: Gar is a relatively short(Five(5) feet, three(3) inches tall) anthromorphic dragon. His scales are a dark jade green, with white scales all along his belly, underneath his tail, with matching wing membranes. His eyes are a deep green, showing intelligence and cheer, and he wears rectangular wire-rimmed glasses on his snoot. He has two horns, crooked and shaped like lightning bolts, with very thin spirals, starting at the base and ending at the tip. He generally is shown with four headspikes, slashing up and forward like an anime haircut, with four other ones, starting at the back of his head and moving down, slashing down and back, all of his horns, claws, spikes, spines, and the like, are white. He wears a grey button-up t-shirt, and black slacks with no shoes, on his left wrist is a black spiked bracelet, on the other is a green wristband with an emblem resembling a "G" on it. Another thing to note is that his tail is very long, almost longer than he is tall, and his wings are oversized for him. He also has a pair of short, white whiskers.

Personality: Why not just find out?

History: Ask him for a synopsis, you lazybones.

Sample:

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Gar grumbled, rolling over his coin-strewn bedspread, and slapping a hand down on the Snooze button of his Alarm clock, it was summertime, school was out, he didn't wanna wake up early yet... He had been having a nice dream, a rather interesting one too, in which he had been turned into a Yoshi, and then treated to an all-night video game party. He loved video games, so this sort of thing was the type of dream he might have. He lay there, in his white boxers with their chocobo pattern, on top of all of his sheets, below which lay a layer of various coins. His room was dark, thick curtains drawn over the windows, the sun, however, wasn't giving up its' fight to illuminate everything it could, and so his room was suffused with a dim light, akin to that of a fire. It glinted off of his scales, the exact color of jade, polished and cleaned with care, his bellyscales a pure white. His glasses and jewelry lay on the nightstand next to him, as well as a white-and-green futuristicly styled touch-lamp and a rather cheap-looking black digital alarm clock with big red obnoxious numbers. Pretty soon snores were emitting themselves from his snout once more.

[Teo]

How could I pass up a new style of RP?

Name: Teo (Theodore)

Age: 14

Teo is a Yoshi (stickin' with the yoshi) who has no special characteristics. He is cyan colored with the traditional red spikes and white belly, but wears no shoes or saddles. For this RP, though, he has adopted white shoes and a white shirt.

As for personality... he tends to vary a lot of how he acts around people depending on situation, events, what he thinks about, where he is... heavy mood swinger. Most of the time, he tries to be helpful and will avoid harming the innocent, sometimes will spare the enemy. Always daydreaming...

History... he won't reveal. It plagues him to remember.

Sample:

Yoshi's Island... North side, lying on a hill... late afternoon.

Something rolled over in the grass. From afar, we could guess it was something the size of a small animal who did a false manoever and rustled the wild growing tall grass, revealing where it was. From closer up, we can see it's a yoshi, his blue color reflecting the sun as he lies on his side, almost curled up in a ball. Without realizing it, he has been drooling the last half hour in that position before starting to wake. ".....hrmm...... beh.... ummmm..." he mutters uncomprehensibly. Then as if something bit him, he springs awake, gasping heavily before he realizes it was just a dream. He looks around him, seeing no threat, and says to himself... "It was just a dream... just... a dream. It didn't happen again..." the thought came back, the same that haunted him for a while... guilt. He looked at the field he was in, the guilt growing as he saw where he was and how he fought to get there. Before the thought came back, he focused desperately on something else... notably the little puddle he made.

"Aw Teo, you little bugger..." He muttered to himself, his mind trailing off the rogue thought and getting up, stretching thoroughly and yawning. "How long have I been here... last I remember I had just finished swimming... it's nice and all, but there's not much to do. When was the last time I ventured out?" He spoke to himself, thinking for the next few minutes before descending to the library in the nearby town. Passing by, he spotted a stall, which was selling fruit. Teo, hungry enough to steal, remembered that fruit was abundant wildly here and there was no need to. Though he did realize he had wandered into a market place after a minute, and it wasn't very crowded. "FISH!!" "FRUIT!" "GET YOUR VEGGIES!" was being shouted out as fishers, farmers, merchants and all sold their goods. Teo didn't see the need for fish or veggies or fruit as it could be easily aquired, but he did see something he didn't see often... it was at a clothes stall.

"SHIRTS!! CAPS!! GET YOUR SUMMER CLOTHES HERE!!" Screamed the young human merchant behind the stall. He seemed unfamiliar here, and he starred at Yoshi's suspiciously. "Ever since the discovery..." then the thought came back. "...maybe I should get something." Teo looked on him, he had no shoes, no saddle, no shirt, no pocket, nomoneynoclothesnowalletabsolutelyzipnadanay.

"It's a luxury I don't need..." he said to himself. Then he turned around to see children, both human and yoshi's, wearing caps and shirts and pants and everything. Teo realized, that if he stayed like this, he'd stand out. It used to be perfectly acceptable to be naked for yoshi's, but now the cyan yoshi felt... under dressed. He looked at the stall, then at a yoshi holding a cell phone and a purse. Back at the stall, then at a yoshi wearing pants which seemed to not fit him. He peered back at the stall, then at a yoshi in swim shorts. He took one final look at the stall and realized if he turned his head again, but stopped as if he turned his head once more, he'd be even more tempted. "If I steal those, I'm going to feel guilty... if I don't, I'll stand out." Already there was a kid pointing at him crying, "Look mom, he's naked, he's naked!" It was a yoshi baby, in a kiddy shirt and one of those helicopter hats. His mother covered his eyes and kept walking away. Teo felt the guilt now, and it wasn't from stealing anything. Teo let out a loud sigh, then anger. But he couldn't hurt a kid, he just couldn't. He was through with that... and the memory came back.

Teo sat down there cross legged and tried to brush it off, closing his eyes and listening to everything around him, but the memory kept coming back. Oh why oh why did I... I shouldn't have... really, I should have researched and explored more... Oh why oh why oh why oh wh-...? Teo opened his eyes and saw a white shirt and some white shoes on his lap. He lifted them and looked at the merchant, who had just reached his arm back from a throw. Teo got up and turned to the merchant, "...thank you..." he said, taking a small bow of appreciation. The young merchant smiled and said, "Go on, you're scarring my customers you little yoshi." Teo let out a small chuckle and walked away, waving at him, paying attention to not let his facial expressions incorporate a double meaning and skipped away. No one payed any more attention to him... he fit in again, he couldn't be pointed at, because there was nothing to point to. He could hide... when he wanted of course. "You'll have to remember to repay him Teo," he said to himself walking down the road, forgetting what he came down there in the first place.

(Uh oh, did I write an essay?)