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 Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 5:23 am
Welcome, Realm Initiate!
If you are new to this guild, you are required to "audition" for membership here. You are not officially accepted into the guild until myself or one of my crew members replies to your audition post with "approved" or something similar. If you have not yet read the Guild Rules, do so first!
"How do I audition?" You ask. It's simple really. Reply to this thread with at least one paragraph of sample RP (please do not cut/paste--write something fresh!). You are allowed to RP off the other auditions here, if you like.
Failure to audition could result in banishment!
Do not post in any IC forums until you've been approved, or suffer immediate banishment.
Please note: the purpose of auditions is not to judge your ability to RP or level of literacy. If you're here, you apparently consider yourself a good, literate role-player, and we don't doubt that. This is simply a quality-control measure, if you will, to weed out anyone that might try to spoil everyone's fun!
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 3:39 pm
I'll kick this Audition thread off.
"The sun sat high in the azure sky, beating down on the dusty streets below. The little town of Fallen Gravestone seemed to be closed down for the afternoon. No one walked on the boardwalks, but eyes could be seen peering out from inside the doors and windows of the squat buildings that lined the main street. There was a sense of oppression and waiting that filled the air mixed with more then a hint of desperation.
A lone, short, figure stood in the road. The mumurs of the invisible townsfolk safe in side their buildings could be heard.
"he's going to face him alone?" Came a small voice carried by the wind.
"told ya he was tough" said another small voice.
A lady could be heard trying to quiet a squalling baby. One man, braver then the others, stood at a door with a shot gun in hand. Even if the sheriff fell the villain would not get out of town alive..."
Hows that for an audition?
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 3:52 pm
Heh, here's one I just randomly whipped up. Hope it's alright. :/
Maria was wearing her usual jeans and a light colored tank top. Her tanned skin stood out in the crowd, but that she minded her heritage at all. Her dark brown hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and her creamy brown eyes were fixed on her friend down the hall. She headed towards her, knowing that she had gone through a terrible breakup the day before. When her and her ex had been dating, their two groups of friends had gotten along. Everything had changed, all the friends of her ex were enemies. "Hey." She said giving her friend the hug she had been waiting for. She didn't say anything more though, because the five minute warning bell had rung. She hugged her friend goodbye again and headed off towards her science class...
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 5:33 pm
Random_Writer I'll kick this Audition thread off. "The sun sat high in the azure sky, beating down on the dusty streets below. The little town of Fallen Gravestone seemed to be closed down for the afternoon. No one walked on the boardwalks, but eyes could be seen peering out from inside the doors and windows of the squat buildings that lined the main street. There was a sense of oppression and waiting that filled the air mixed with more then a hint of desperation. A lone, short, figure stood in the road. The mumurs of the invisible townsfolk safe in side their buildings could be heard. "he's going to face him alone?" Came a small voice carried by the wind. "told ya he was tough" said another small voice. A lady could be heard trying to quiet a squalling baby. One man, braver then the others, stood at a door with a shot gun in hand. Even if the sheriff fell the villain would not get out of town alive..." Hows that for an audition? A prime example! ::slams an "Approved" stamp into an open ink-pad and again on the audition letter:: [ APPROVED ]
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 5:38 pm
lil Minghia Heh, here's one I just randomly whipped up. Hope it's alright. :/
Maria was wearing her usual jeans and a light colored tank top. Her tanned skin stood out in the crowd, but that she minded her heritage at all. Her dark brown hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and her creamy brown eyes were fixed on her friend down the hall. She headed towards her, knowing that she had gone through a terrible breakup the day before. When her and her ex had been dating, their two groups of friends had gotten along. Everything had changed, all the friends of her ex were enemies. "Hey." She said giving her friend the hug she had been waiting for. She didn't say anything more though, because the five minute warning bell had rung. She hugged her friend goodbye again and headed off towards her science class... Well done! [ APPROVED ]
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 6:10 pm
((My audition))
Elizabeth descended the stairs of her “recently deceased” father’s mansion entering the grandly decorated ball room with golden angels holding gas lit lights high into the air, bringing warmth and light the darkness meant to tear away the gloom and foreboding air- The flickering flames cast a warm glow upon her fashionably pale flesh- giving her a healthy glow she would not have had naturally. For under the crinoline and taffeta, emerald green dress she wore- her heart did not beat.. Non who ever came close enough to notice this however lived to share gossip.
Her waist length corn silk tresses were piled atop her head in loose curls, held up with a tiny net of gold and diamonds… around her long pale throat was only a simple velvet choker the same hue of green as her glittering eyes and her lovely gown.
She knew she was envied by the women who gathered at the balls she attended and held, she knew they wished they were as she, pale, elegant.. Strong… and independent.
A soft, sardonic, and very bored smile lifted her painted lips as she curtsied to a courtier as he came to her in hopes of a dance.
The night had just begun.. And it held so many promises…
But after so many years, she was growing bored…she needed excitement. She was lonely… and tired of living the life of some aristocrat… tired of the galas and tired of the same old thing night after night.
Elizabeth gently placed her hand in the strange mans hands..
Lord Jacob perhaps.. Son of Lord Bryon.. She smiled at him coquettishly as he spun her around the large marble dance floors, her skirts whispering softly as she moved around to some waltz or another as she answered politely his questions, mindlessly flirting as expected of an unclaimed woman- laughing when polite, nodding as he flushed boyishly, stuttering over his words every so often- most likely when the dance was over and he turned her to the next male stumbling over themselves to get to her, he would brag to the boyo’s how she chose him of all the men to dance with first…
Sighing softly to herself, she let her mask slip… revealing a rather saddening face- deprived of any true emotion…
Gods.. She was bored of this unlife. She needed something.. else…
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Posted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 6:19 pm
Thornless-Rose ((My audition)) Elizabeth descended the stairs of her “recently deceased” father’s mansion entering the grandly decorated ball room with golden angels holding gas lit lights high into the air, bringing warmth and light the darkness meant to tear away the gloom and foreboding air- The flickering flames cast a warm glow upon her fashionably pale flesh- giving her a healthy glow she would not have had naturally. For under the crinoline and taffeta, emerald green dress she wore- her heart did not beat.. Non who ever came close enough to notice this however lived to share gossip. Her waist length corn silk tresses were piled atop her head in loose curls, held up with a tiny net of gold and diamonds… around her long pale throat was only a simple velvet choker the same hue of green as her glittering eyes and her lovely gown. She knew she was envied by the women who gathered at the balls she attended and held, she knew they wished they were as she, pale, elegant.. Strong… and independent. A soft, sardonic, and very bored smile lifted her painted lips as she curtsied to a courtier as he came to her in hopes of a dance. The night had just begun.. And it held so many promises… But after so many years, she was growing bored…she needed excitement. She was lonely… and tired of living the life of some aristocrat… tired of the galas and tired of the same old thing night after night. Elizabeth gently placed her hand in the strange mans hands.. Lord Jacob perhaps.. Son of Lord Bryon.. She smiled at him coquettishly as he spun her around the large marble dance floors, her skirts whispering softly as she moved around to some waltz or another as she answered politely his questions, mindlessly flirting as expected of an unclaimed woman- laughing when polite, nodding as he flushed boyishly, stuttering over his words every so often- most likely when the dance was over and he turned her to the next male stumbling over themselves to get to her, he would brag to the boyo’s how she chose him of all the men to dance with first… Sighing softly to herself, she let her mask slip… revealing a rather saddening face- deprived of any true emotion… Gods.. She was bored of this unlife. She needed something.. else… Outstanding! [ APPROVED ]
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 3:10 pm
Something was wrong, but he didn't notice until it was almost too late. Striding through the castle along a hallway which was bordered on one side by a wall marked with many doors and on the other by a railing, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts on tomorow's activities. The castle's caretaker was a busy man, often called upon at all hours to affirm this, dismiss that, and soothe the panicked states of the staff. His agenda was filled from dawn to dusk, and he was usually up before the first and down long after the second.
Dressed in the smart sable uniform of his empire, the cartaker's hair was short-kept and very light, nearly white, despite his youthful features. He was also of a smaller stature, something which often caused people to underestimate his responsabilities or undermine his authority... until he forcibly corrected them. The slim man halted, suddenly, almost in midstride, his polished black boots coming to a silent stop upon the deep green of the rug which ran the length of the floor. His senses, so attuned to the regular activity, noises and scent of the castle, were screaming at him, shrieking about some off-note in the serene melody.
He turned just in time to feel the arms of discord connect with his slender torso, slamming the breath out of him and hurling him back into the rail. Dazed by the attack, confused, terror and anger mixed together and he slashed back with his fist, knuckles grazing his opponent's chin but doing nothing, it seemed, to halt the onslaught. His attacker's hands gripped the front of his fine coat, and with a single heave, hauled him up and over the edge of the rail.
The caretaker's body fell at least a dozen feet, a yell of surprise and rage barely having time to escape his throat before he managed to get a hold of a tapastery, clinging to it for dear life itself. The thick fabric began to tear at the top where it was hung from a metal beam connected to the wall; swiftly, the small man began shimmy down the colourful fabric. At the bottom, he stood uneasily, almost weakly, against the wall, waiting to see what happened--but no one came. The surprise assaultant had left as quickly as he had come, and there was no sign of him above, looking down. '
Worried for the lives of everyone else in the castle, as was his duty and why he had been chosen for such a position, the caretaker began to dash down the hallway, yelling at the top of his lungs for assistance, namely, the guards. A search was needed, an immediate one. Who else could be in danger? And why had he been targeted--just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or purposful? He was determined to find the assaultant and get answers, somehow.
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 4:57 pm
Rigga Mortis Something was wrong, but he didn't notice until it was almost too late. Striding through the castle along a hallway which was bordered on one side by a wall marked with many doors and on the other by a railing, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts on tomorow's activities. The castle's caretaker was a busy man, often called upon at all hours to affirm this, dismiss that, and soothe the panicked states of the staff. His agenda was filled from dawn to dusk, and he was usually up before the first and down long after the second. Dressed in the smart sable uniform of his empire, the cartaker's hair was short-kept and very light, nearly white, despite his youthful features. He was also of a smaller stature, something which often caused people to underestimate his responsabilities or undermine his authority... until he forcibly corrected them. The slim man halted, suddenly, almost in midstride, his polished black boots coming to a silent stop upon the deep green of the rug which ran the length of the floor. His senses, so attuned to the regular activity, noises and scent of the castle, were screaming at him, shrieking about some off-note in the serene melody. He turned just in time to feel the arms of discord connect with his slender torso, slamming the breath out of him and hurling him back into the rail. Dazed by the attack, confused, terror and anger mixed together and he slashed back with his fist, knuckles grazing his opponent's chin but doing nothing, it seemed, to halt the onslaught. His attacker's hands gripped the front of his fine coat, and with a single heave, hauled him up and over the edge of the rail. The caretaker's body fell at least a dozen feet, a yell of surprise and rage barely having time to escape his throat before he managed to get a hold of a tapastery, clinging to it for dear life itself. The thick fabric began to tear at the top where it was hung from a metal beam connected to the wall; swiftly, the small man began shimmy down the colourful fabric. At the bottom, he stood uneasily, almost weakly, against the wall, waiting to see what happened--but no one came. The surprise assaultant had left as quickly as he had come, and there was no sign of him above, looking down. ' Worried for the lives of everyone else in the castle, as was his duty and why he had been chosen for such a position, the caretaker began to dash down the hallway, yelling at the top of his lungs for assistance, namely, the guards. A search was needed, an immediate one. Who else could be in danger? And why had he been targeted--just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or purposful? He was determined to find the assaultant and get answers, somehow. Sounds like you have something going there wink you have been.... [APPROVED]
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 10:27 pm
Audition!!!! scream scream OUTRAGE!! XD
Here we go....
Psyke watche over the crowd of people below him. Every person a life of there own, jobs, cars, and many other various objects. They may have had families and people they loved. But standing above all of them, to Psyke, they were all ants. Every one of them was a small little spec of a being waiting to be picked off by those stronger than them
Right now however they were his bait. Every body of flesh and blood below him was a herd of cattle to another race. So what did Psyke do he waited and watched. Staring on over the city. Psyke was currently hunched over the long sky peircing point of a tower. Hunched over he looked like a strange mass of darkness and cloth. But as the light brown orbs on his face spotted a target, this one a vampire looking for fresh meet, he stood.
As Psyke stood the outstanding figure of his body could be seen. His body seemed to unravel as his long arms came out and met with his rising pockets. The pockets belonged to a long pair of black pants with chains running down them and reaching to the hem of the black almost gunmetal pants. The hems covered all but a small portion of a dark plate covering a leather boot. As his body gets into full upright position, now standing a long 6'6" Psyke's dark skin clashes with the nightlights and moonlights reflecting of the many objects in his area.
Psyke withdrew his hands from his pockets. A cigarette in one hand and a knife and lighter in the other. With his tilted sideways he sparked the lighter and moved the cigarette up to his mouth. Lighting it promptly he took in a deep puff of poisonous air and exhaled the large cloud of smoke. "Its hunting time..." He whispered to himself. As he inhaled drags of his cigarette the cherry lit up reveiling his face. His teeth bore fangs, his eyes were feral, his left eyebrow had to metal loops peirced through it, then there was the smile. The sick sadistic smile he had on his face as he looked at his vampiric prey.
Psyke adjusted the knife firmly in his had. Looking down at the blade so stained with blood it just caused Psyke's smile to adjust to a higher place. Then without more thought he jumped off the building toward his prey. The small short black strands of his hair flying as he descented toward his first target of the night. "This one will fetch a good price." His words were lost in the wind as the dark figure fell to the ground. The night looked promising.
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Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 2:52 pm
Psyk_e Audition!!!! scream scream OUTRAGE!! XD Here we go.... Psyke watche over the crowd of people below him. Every person a life of there own, jobs, cars, and many other various objects. They may have had families and people they loved. But standing above all of them, to Psyke, they were all ants. Every one of them was a small little spec of a being waiting to be picked off by those stronger than them Right now however they were his bait. Every body of flesh and blood below him was a herd of cattle to another race. So what did Psyke do he waited and watched. Staring on over the city. Psyke was currently hunched over the long sky peircing point of a tower. Hunched over he looked like a strange mass of darkness and cloth. But as the light brown orbs on his face spotted a target, this one a vampire looking for fresh meet, he stood. As Psyke stood the outstanding figure of his body could be seen. His body seemed to unravel as his long arms came out and met with his rising pockets. The pockets belonged to a long pair of black pants with chains running down them and reaching to the hem of the black almost gunmetal pants. The hems covered all but a small portion of a dark plate covering a leather boot. As his body gets into full upright position, now standing a long 6'6" Psyke's dark skin clashes with the nightlights and moonlights reflecting of the many objects in his area. Psyke withdrew his hands from his pockets. A cigarette in one hand and a knife and lighter in the other. With his tilted sideways he sparked the lighter and moved the cigarette up to his mouth. Lighting it promptly he took in a deep puff of poisonous air and exhaled the large cloud of smoke. "Its hunting time..." He whispered to himself. As he inhaled drags of his cigarette the cherry lit up reveiling his face. His teeth bore fangs, his eyes were feral, his left eyebrow had to metal loops peirced through it, then there was the smile. The sick sadistic smile he had on his face as he looked at his vampiric prey. Psyke adjusted the knife firmly in his had. Looking down at the blade so stained with blood it just caused Psyke's smile to adjust to a higher place. Then without more thought he jumped off the building toward his prey. The small short black strands of his hair flying as he descented toward his first target of the night. "This one will fetch a good price." His words were lost in the wind as the dark figure fell to the ground. The night looked promising. DECLINED!!! (Just kidding!) Approved! xd
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Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 4:06 pm
Well, I'm sure we all know that as the Captain of this guild, I don't really have to audition, but just in case anyone wants to pull the "fairness" card... If you want to see my "audition" you can refer to my History of the Realms and my Roleplay 101 stories. wink
Good times.
Oh yeah, and I'm.... [ APPROVED ] kekeke ^^
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 8:07 pm
Death…
What is the world coming to, when man has gone beyond creating weapons of war, and has started to create better men to utilize those weapons? He had thought the stories were mere rumor, he had thought them based on wild accusations, and too many beers consumed in the tavern halls. He had joined the Resistance Corp; he had passed the physical exams, the trying mental exams, and the unusual stamina and endurance exams. Acceptance had been granted to him, and he had been excited, his parents proud, his friends and neighbors wishing him luck, and asking that he bring back trophies and stories of his accomplishments.
Darkness…
He had arrived at the training station. The great orbital platform, defended by weapons and starfighters the like of which he had only dreamed of one day being able to see. He had been shown to his room, his wandering eyes taking in the spartan environment of the entire station, the grim determination in the faces of the other recruits, the apathy that sucked all of the joy out of the eyes of the men he had taken to be trainers, or medical attendants. His room was cramped, with barely room for him to stow his belongings beneath the steel bed, the darkness of the room awoke primitive feelings of claustrophobia, but he beat them down, and took a nap to refresh himself after the long flight here.
Pain…
That nap continued. He could feel the pain, piercing through the shackles placed upon his mind, the drugs and electrical impulses that kept him in this fitful state of rest. What was going on? What was this nightmare? He felt as though his insides were being rearranged, he felt as though new pieces were being added. He could almost feel himself growing stronger, feeling his bones toughen, his muscles enlarging. His organs strained to keep up with the increased mass, and began to fail, so they were replaced. His heartbeat was no longer familiar; its distant rhythmic beating brought him no comfort within these tortured dreams. His eyes burned, they were open, but could not see. Pinpricks wormed their ways in, sliding through the delicate organs, imbedding themselves into his flesh, attaching themselves to the nerves that hooked directly to his mind.
Hatred…
Images flooded his dreams now, a wealth of information. Battle tactics, combat scenarios, dreams in which he could move, dreams in which he could act. Discipline followed when he acted out of context, the fiery pain wracking his entire form until he submitted, and allowed the course to run true. He learned to use this new body; it was stronger, faster, and tougher. He could last for days without sleep, weeks without food or water, pain was duller, his needs were weaker. He was trained to fight, taught to kill, shown how to fight alongside others of his kind. He died, time and again, with every death, the pain would come, until he learned to succeed even when in death. To keep on until all volition had left his form. Soon, death lost its meaning entirely. There was only the mission, only his orders; himself, his weapons, and the enemy. He would not fail.
Vengeance…
Suddenly, it all came to a halt. The information became corrupted, allowing him to act more and more outside of the boundaries that used to exist. The pain ceased, though he could still feel the changes that had been wrought upon him. Timelessness came to him then, as the dreams faded away, joining the pain as naught but a distant memory. His personality tried to surface, struggling against the shackles that had been placed upon it in fear, chains that were meant to keep the punishments away. He wanted to wake, but could not. He wanted to move, but the instructions just would not reach their destinations. Blackness enveloped him, terrors from his childhood, and the depths of his imagination crept out from their hiding places to prey upon his vulnerable psyche. Now he was trapped in a hell of his own devising, a place where madness and fear held sway.
Light…
Slowly his eyes opened, eyes that blinked at the darkness that was no longer dark. He rose to a sitting position, tubes and instruments detaching from his head and spine as he did so. He was within an operating room, several more tables lay nearby, the prone forms of other massive men laying still as stone upon their surfaces. The scent of corpse blood reached his nose. The hint of decay, and the lightened coppery tone told him that death had been here recently, within days. White coated men lay upon the floor, gray clothed men lay among them, these ones with armor, and weapons. They were not attendants; they were surgeons, gene-splicers, hormone-experts, these were the ones that the rumors had spoken of. The men in gray were the guards, the soldiers who had not undergone the hellish transformation that he had endured. They had known. They had seen. They had done nothing. He was to be the future, he was to be part of a new force, one that would wipe the universe clean of all those that would oppose his masters. The cool metal of a battle rifle, claimed from one of the fallen felt comfortable in his hands, familiarity, bred by the long trainings that had been broadcast directly into his brain. Clothing, he took where he could find it. The largest of the men had clothing that felt restricting, but would do for now. The sounds of a distant explosion reached his ears, and he let out a battle hungry growl in response. He needed no orders, he needed no masters, he was free. Free to exact his vengeance upon those who had created him, and those that might threaten the ones he had once cared for.
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 3:27 pm
Chocolution Death…
What is the world coming to, when man has gone beyond creating weapons of war, and has started to create better men to utilize those weapons? He had thought the stories were mere rumor, he had thought them based on wild accusations, and too many beers consumed in the tavern halls. He had joined the Resistance Corp; he had passed the physical exams, the trying mental exams, and the unusual stamina and endurance exams. Acceptance had been granted to him, and he had been excited, his parents proud, his friends and neighbors wishing him luck, and asking that he bring back trophies and stories of his accomplishments.
Darkness…
He had arrived at the training station. The great orbital platform, defended by weapons and starfighters the like of which he had only dreamed of one day being able to see. He had been shown to his room, his wandering eyes taking in the spartan environment of the entire station, the grim determination in the faces of the other recruits, the apathy that sucked all of the joy out of the eyes of the men he had taken to be trainers, or medical attendants. His room was cramped, with barely room for him to stow his belongings beneath the steel bed, the darkness of the room awoke primitive feelings of claustrophobia, but he beat them down, and took a nap to refresh himself after the long flight here.
Pain…
That nap continued. He could feel the pain, piercing through the shackles placed upon his mind, the drugs and electrical impulses that kept him in this fitful state of rest. What was going on? What was this nightmare? He felt as though his insides were being rearranged, he felt as though new pieces were being added. He could almost feel himself growing stronger, feeling his bones toughen, his muscles enlarging. His organs strained to keep up with the increased mass, and began to fail, so they were replaced. His heartbeat was no longer familiar; its distant rhythmic beating brought him no comfort within these tortured dreams. His eyes burned, they were open, but could not see. Pinpricks wormed their ways in, sliding through the delicate organs, imbedding themselves into his flesh, attaching themselves to the nerves that hooked directly to his mind.
Hatred…
Images flooded his dreams now, a wealth of information. Battle tactics, combat scenarios, dreams in which he could move, dreams in which he could act. Discipline followed when he acted out of context, the fiery pain wracking his entire form until he submitted, and allowed the course to run true. He learned to use this new body; it was stronger, faster, and tougher. He could last for days without sleep, weeks without food or water, pain was duller, his needs were weaker. He was trained to fight, taught to kill, shown how to fight alongside others of his kind. He died, time and again, with every death, the pain would come, until he learned to succeed even when in death. To keep on until all volition had left his form. Soon, death lost its meaning entirely. There was only the mission, only his orders; himself, his weapons, and the enemy. He would not fail.
Vengeance…
Suddenly, it all came to a halt. The information became corrupted, allowing him to act more and more outside of the boundaries that used to exist. The pain ceased, though he could still feel the changes that had been wrought upon him. Timelessness came to him then, as the dreams faded away, joining the pain as naught but a distant memory. His personality tried to surface, struggling against the shackles that had been placed upon it in fear, chains that were meant to keep the punishments away. He wanted to wake, but could not. He wanted to move, but the instructions just would not reach their destinations. Blackness enveloped him, terrors from his childhood, and the depths of his imagination crept out from their hiding places to prey upon his vulnerable psyche. Now he was trapped in a hell of his own devising, a place where madness and fear held sway.
Light…
Slowly his eyes opened, eyes that blinked at the darkness that was no longer dark. He rose to a sitting position, tubes and instruments detaching from his head and spine as he did so. He was within an operating room, several more tables lay nearby, the prone forms of other massive men laying still as stone upon their surfaces. The scent of corpse blood reached his nose. The hint of decay, and the lightened coppery tone told him that death had been here recently, within days. White coated men lay upon the floor, gray clothed men lay among them, these ones with armor, and weapons. They were not attendants; they were surgeons, gene-splicers, hormone-experts, these were the ones that the rumors had spoken of. The men in gray were the guards, the soldiers who had not undergone the hellish transformation that he had endured. They had known. They had seen. They had done nothing. He was to be the future, he was to be part of a new force, one that would wipe the universe clean of all those that would oppose his masters. The cool metal of a battle rifle, claimed from one of the fallen felt comfortable in his hands, familiarity, bred by the long trainings that had been broadcast directly into his brain. Clothing, he took where he could find it. The largest of the men had clothing that felt restricting, but would do for now. The sounds of a distant explosion reached his ears, and he let out a battle hungry growl in response. He needed no orders, he needed no masters, he was free. Free to exact his vengeance upon those who had created him, and those that might threaten the ones he had once cared for. Looks like you should fit right in wink Approved!
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Posted: Thu Feb 08, 2007 11:04 am
Here's mine!!!
Arie raced down the street, her heart beating fast, her breath coming out in short gasps, trying to get away from the people who killed her father.
((flashback))
"Your going to die old man." One of the hitman said, the old man's eyes growing wide with fear.
"You can kill me but you'll never get out of here alive." The old man said, getting some of his confidence back.
Arie was hiding behind the staircase, watching the whole thing, watching as her father was murdered. She made a little squeaking sound and she covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes grew wide. But it was too late, they already saw her. She raced out the door and ran down the street.
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