A Dark Tale [NC Exotic - Horror RP - LF Snow White Read Within]

Started by Dark Deception, February 15, 2011, 09:21:29 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Dark Deception

Your absence isn't causing any problems. We just said your character won't be able to attend the court room meeting because she's dealing with a talking-animal slave revolt. It was no issue. So when you return, you can continue do whatever with that. If anyone new is applying here, I would like for them to apply with a new character. I want to see more SLs being added.

Particularly, The Dark Court needs some more members.


Currently involved in: 6 role plays

PearlRuby

Hello! Hopefully I will be joining in with Rapunzel, whose profile is below. Please be aware that, not everything about her is written here. I like to think of it more as a general, constantly developing idea which is even still being shaped. Plus it would be awful to spoil everything about her - some mystery is good! Also, your comments/thoughts are more than welcome  ;D

Looking forward to co-writing with you all.

Ta!

~





Alias: Rapunzel
Age: 26 (though sometimes mistaken to be at least 30-something, all depending on her mood and attire.)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'9”
Weight: 126lbs
Occupation: Owner and sole-employee of the popular Apothecary shop in Brogdin.

Basic Appearance: In relative mockery to the tower in which she was held captive for the worst part of four years, Rapunzel stands both tall and slender. Her legs seeming to be particularly long, but in no way is her figure extremely out of proportion. On the contrary she carries herself with a refined elegance, always sitting with rigid back courtesy of balancing heavy books on her head as a child. Her face continues to echo her figure; the nose is long and narrow, the eyes wide and lightly slanted, and the thin lips almost fragilely perched on a pointed chin. The cheekbones are incredibly high and sharply defined, almost gaunt, but mostly rendering her overall facial structure as heart-shaped; another bitter mockery relating to her past. Perhaps in light of her physicality, she truly is cursed? Indeed, often she wonders if she carries an ounce of her true parents lineage, or if she has instead grown to resemble her step-mother. Even to the point of ageing at a slightly more accelerated rate than other young women.

The face is often powdered slightly, sometimes enhanced by rose-blush and beauty-spot on either one cheek. Her skin tone naturally carries a natural, almost alabaster-white quality worthy of cold stone. As for her hair, well... it still defines her appearance, in more ways than one. Her hair style is not fixed – sometimes she carries a Barnett of golden-blonde arranged in winding plaits and faux decorations of lace, flowers and ribbons. Other times she boasts the contribution of clashing hairstyles of varying shades. No style is her true hair however, for beneath these elaborate wigs, is fair, frizzy hair which refuses to grow past the short cut. Ever since it was snipped and chopped so ruthlessly from her scalp, the style remains haphazard and in her opinion, incredibly unattractive.

As for clothing, she favours dresses. Never is she seen in 'clothing fit for only a man' as she so adequately puts it. As a working woman she can afford her own tailor to create modest designs, sometimes attempting to follow the latest fashions. However, she can't quite afford a new outfit too often, so certain dresses are more worn than others. The embroidery starting to unravel, the dyes starting to fade, and the hemlines starting to tear.

Personality: High levels of focus and an over-attention to detail dictate the majority of Rapunzel's persona. She is a mature and highly-learned figure, whose hermit lifestyle has gained her a great deal of respect in her line of work. By no means is she shy however; often she will speak her mind, and more than often her opinion is painfully negative or soul-crushing. Sometimes subtle wit will lace her tongue, while other times she will exercise the use of blunt truth. Hardly the social etiquette to be associated with such an elegant and refined young woman, but such is how she has been raised.

Likes:
- Silks and ribbons, preferably combined
- Hair, especially when decorated artfully
- Old books, trinkets and odd little mementos
- Keeping herself sufficiently occupied
- Fresh air...
- ...but also the smell of a brewing cauldron

Dislikes:
- Thorny flora and the 'Campanula Rapunculus' (aka Rapunzel) bell-flower plant
- 'Dame Gothel'
- Great heights
- Small spaces, or any space lacking doors and windows
- Chaotic mess; especially not knowing where things are
- Singing
- Notions of 'love', seeing others 'in love', and 'happy ever after' tales. In fact, she despises these most of all.

Psychological Disorder(s):

- Mild claustrophobia; including staying in one place for far too long. She needs variety in her surroundings, even if that means to take at least one stroll a day to remind herself of the freedom she has gained.

- Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder; via hoarding of items and the reluctance to entrust any tasks onto another in fearing they would be inadequate. Her main issue is always needing to be aware of her exit strategy, including making sure doors and windows are never blocked. A set of keys are always kept on her personage, and no doubt she also keeps multiple spare sets around her abode. Depression often follows her generally cynical and negative attitude, followed very closely by envy. There isn't a fixed schedule to her every day life, but each task she starts on must finished without interruption.

- An abnormal attachment to hair

- Slight fear of forming attachments to other, living, breathing 'things', especially romantic interests. It is much easier to attach herself to ornate objects. Or perhaps she has simply 'gone off' men in general.


Background: Rapunzel's tale, like many others, begins with a 'Once Upon A Time'. Unfortunately, it does not end in a 'Happily Ever After'. At least, not the version she may have once wished for.

Before her birth into the realm of Fantasia, she was to learn that theft and lack of self-control bore heavy punishment. In this particular case, a husband's thieving of rapunzel plants from an enchanted garden in order to feed the gluttonous indulgence of a foolish wife, thereby invoking the wrath of 'Dame Gothel'. This enchantress of the surrounding woodlands shared one common interest with the married couple; the lack and want of a child to call her own. So when apologetic wife gave birth to her one and only daughter, the deal was struck. Dame Gothel earned the title of 'mother' and with it, aptly named her daughter Rapunzel.

As the years rolled by, the child was gifted with many enchantments, some more permanent than others. First the gift of song, secondly the gift of knowledge, and thirdly the gift of ever-growing beauty. Dame Gothel's purpose was grey... did she only wish to shower her daughter with gifts? Or was her reasoning more sinister? Did she instead hope to one day possess the child; inhabit this fresh young body as many rumours suggest. By her twelfth year, Dame Gothel's actions suggested her living up to such stereotypical accusations. Curiosity often led the girl astray, and so the elderly enchantress, fearing that soon the girl would think herself ready to fly the nest, deemed it right to lock her daughter in the small, doorless room at the top of a tall, stair-less tower made of pure, white stone. An enchantment was placed upon the girl's hair to grow with strong and quick purpose. An affliction that, for a time, disabled her movement. The hair so heavy and acumbersome, yet beautiful in its own right! Handy too, for it was strong, especially when plaited; like rope. And so, one phrase became the bane of her teenage years:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair.”

Enter the daring Prince, captivated by the songs often carried by wanton breeze through the great forest tiers. Skip a chapter, past his innocent courting with the naive Rapunzel, and a tongue lined in elaborate silver. Often she would count the days, minutes, seconds before she heard the words:

“Rapunzel, my dearest, sweet Rapunzel. Let down your luscious locks!”

By slip of her own tongue one day, she experienced the unrelenting wrath of Dame Gothel. The woman promised Rapunzel that she could leave the tower and be with the man she loved, but on one condition. The long golden plait which defined who she was, was to be cut from Rapunzel's head. But the mother did not stop there, oh no. She continued to chop and snip through the thick and heavy bush, countless strands fleeing scalp until a mass of frizzy, uneven patches and chunks remained.

“My task is done. You are ready to fly the nest. But see how he loves you now! Remember – a mother knows best...”

And then, Dame Gothel was gone.

That night, the Prince returned to the tower. Yet upon climbing the golden stair, was greeted by a shocking, hideous sight. To see his beloved so malformed and resembling a haggard old witch, was shocking enough to force him stumbling back, even to accidentally fell through the very same window from whence he had so adamantly climbed. Had Rapunzel known that the fall would undoubtedly kill him, she may have joined him in such a plight. Alas, fate was cruel. Still loving her cruel Prince, she descended her own rope ladder, and cradled his broken body in her arms to witness his last breath.

“Had I been blinded instead,” he uttered. Rapunzel would ponder his meaning in those words, ever more. Did he mean to say more? Or was that it? Were those the last words of a man who had so ardently loved her? Was that true love?

For a time, bitterness swelled in Rapunzel's broken heart. For a time, she resided in the little cottage where Dame Gothel had first raised her. The same cottage in the middle of the enchanted woods, with the same garden from which her father had made the grave mistake of trespassing. Others occasionally stumbled upon her sanctuary; often young couples hoping to elope. Young men searching for a rare flower or enchanted object to present to their intended, or sometimes even young maidens lost or out for a very daring stroll, driven by innocent curiosity. Rapunzel found use for them all; with the same scissors that raped her of her own prized beauty, she passed the curse down to them.

“See how he/she loves you now,” she would say. Using the hair of her victims, she fashioned her own, unique and ornate wigs. A new identity... or was it carrying the flag for misguided youth and their false love?

For a handful of years, she remained isolated, studying the magical books left behind by the departed Dame Gothel and brewing in her own self-pity. In the absence of the true enchantress, the forest began to whither and wilt. The garden grew full of choking weeds. The grass turned yellow. Skeletal branches lacking rich, green leaves, reached up to provoke overclouded skies which often brought rain, wind, hail and thunder. The sun hardly ever shined. One day, Rapunzel happened to cast her reflection in a mirror dropped by the latest victim. Dame Gothel stared back. In horror, she dropped the mirror. Was it a revelation that struck her, or merely the answer to her boredom? Either way, Rapunzel packed up, and left her home. Finally, she flew the nest.

It would then be chance alone that brought Rapunzel into the Apothecary trade. A scary opportunity at first, which was only half-heartedly answered and eventually fully accepted. As a new face in the city of Brogdin under the questionable leadership spawned from various tales, (each more adventurous than the previous), she didn't care to hunt down the truth behind the Queen's rise to power. Merely, to assert herself outside of both tower and cottage. To learn beyond the words in books by putting her skills to some kind of use, and thus make a living for herself. A new start, of sorts – she still kept the wigs. At first she assisted the former potions-master and when he shortly fell out of favour with the Queen, his property miraculously fell into the hands of his able assistant! It was easy for Rapunzel to slip into a routine of sorts, and to gradually but quite effortlessly build a professional reputation of her own. Now, she finds herself moderately content with the daily running of her own little Apothecary shop, which she has very much made her own little territory. To see both regular and new faces and deal with their interesting, often very fascinating affairs gives her strange satisfaction. A position of power to provide a cure, or sometimes to choose not to cure someone, depending on the story they bring to her counter top. Who needed a love potion last week? Who wants a strength tonic by the end of today? Who will be wronged by another and so desire the ingredients of revenge next month? ...


Partner: No one

Weaponry: Always carries with her a pair of silver scissors embossed in elegant patterns, and a matching, multi-purpose dagger.

Powers:
- Minor Enchantment: It was once said that through her 'ethereal' singing voice alone, Rapunzel could enchant the ears of man. It worked on a Prince at least, and various trespassers upon her former abode too. Unfortunately (or fortunately for some) she hasn't the heart to practice this art any further, however...
Customers might often comment on the general, melancholy tone of her voice to be quite pleasant, even though it is often missing an accompanying smile. Still, she rarely needs to offer much speech to gain a confidential trust agreement. Simply being calm and more than happy to listen to the troubles of others, creates a relaxed aura. Mothering, perhaps? She seems to care, and for most people, that is all they need to see. Coincidently, should any delicate information be leaked, she is often the last party to be accused.

- Expanse Knowledge: Strong knowledge of Potion-making and to some extent, the more logical rules of 'Alchemy'. Also incredibly well-read on many topics leading towards being able to fight with words, not fists.

- Amateur Spell-Caster: Specialises in the reading of verses from her precious Grimoire. These are never major alterations which will occur immediately, and so whether they even work is often 'yet to still be seen'. Still, certain desperate customers still offer good coin for these services, such as love spells, attracting good fortune or issuing forget-me-nots.
Status: Fully Booked

To sleep, perchance to dream ... All the world's a stage.
Ons and Offs     Ideas / Requests     A&A

Dino


LadyDiscord

Join my village and make money.
✔✦✘

midnight diamond

Great profile! ^.^ Although, you may want to consider modifying her weight. At 5'9, 112lbs is bordering on anorexic.

LadyDiscord

Quote from: midnight diamond on February 23, 2011, 07:40:45 PM
Great profile! ^.^ Although, you may want to consider modifying her weight. At 5'9, 112lbs is bordering on anorexic.

I was thinking that same thing. Unless she's like one of those Tim Burton character's, then it's completely normal.
Join my village and make money.
✔✦✘

PearlRuby

Ah yes, you're quite right >.< I'm never very good at putting a number to weight! I guess she is bordering a Tim Burton type model, but might need to add a few extra pounds. Thanks for the input!
~
Status: Fully Booked

To sleep, perchance to dream ... All the world's a stage.
Ons and Offs     Ideas / Requests     A&A

Arandrocles

I have read this thread and am thoroughly entranced. If you are still open to the idea of additional characters as it seems, I will work up a character profile and post it later today.

Absolutely amazing profiles so far.

Dark Deception

I will accept character profiles, but at this time, since one of the threads are behind, I won't be allowing your character to enter the game for awhile. There are some things that need to get done first in game and because it's taking quite a long time, to add anymore people into the game will make it even longer.

You're welcome to run a character idea by me in PM, and to post your finished profile here, but as I said, I won't be able to allow you entrance for awhile (depending on what kind of character you make because Rapunzel was one of those "exceptions").


Currently involved in: 6 role plays

Arandrocles

That is quite understandable. I do not mind waiting to be worked in. May I have a temporary reserve on one of the neutral characters and I will get my character to you via PM in the next day or two
(since there is no hurry I can take time to fill in the details.) Please let me know what you think, thanks!

Dark Deception

You can do that. I would honestly not recommend you busting out a profile entirely because if you do, and I don't think the character is neutral or if he or she conflicts with some plots, and I have to say no, then you might have done all that work on your vision for no reason. If you have an idea, just go ahead and talk it over with me. If it works, I'll give you the okay and you can begin. If it isn't okay, then at least you know now and not later and can tweak your idea early and not when its in its finished state.


Currently involved in: 6 role plays

Serishen

Hola, all! I've enjoyed reading the tale thus far.

Submitted for approval (and critique)!



Alias: Sleeping Beauty / Sybil



Age:  116, though with the preternatural appearance of youth

Gender:  Female

Height:  5 foot, 7 inches

Weight:  121 pounds

Basic Appearance:  Sybil is an unconventional beauty in appearance and manner.  Having inherited her mother's fine cornsilk tresses, and Father's startling blue eyes, she made for the epitome of maiden beauty.  Lissome and graceful she bears diminutive features, that even in anger, are enchanting to behold.

Personality:  Narcolepsy, enchanted or no, has a habit of stunting one’s social life.  Sybil was once a meek and agreeable young Princess.  Kind as she was beautiful.  Though sleeping for nearly a century has left her … shall we say morose?  Worse yet there were many times in which the poor girl was awake but merely unable to stir.  For years she had to endure their tongues waggling with condolences.  Why hadn't someone thought to cure her with another spell?  Pity is such a pitiless emotion when you've a kingdom full of faeries.  Their final solution?  To flee the castle and leave Sybil to the mercy of the woodland creatures and passerby.  Though father was kind enough to erect a fence.  Needless to say, she's something of a miffed martyr. And rather petulant to boot.

Likes:  Long, languid naps (she hasn't really a choice, has she?), Blue Jays as they have the best gossip.  Actually, Sybil has never really been awake long enough to find things to like.  Perhaps that will soon change?

Dislikes:  Stairs. Most certainly, stairs. Fairies, The Prince, Roses - absolutely detests roses, Blood.  That awkward moment right before she topples to sleep.

Psychological Disorder(s): Narcissistic; Irrational (or is it?) fear of falling asleep; Worsening habit of voyeurism; Rampant distrust of male-things, she must be wary of any and all pricks, you know.

Background: A Ruined Castle Forgotten, But Not Far Away

There beyond the courtyard, overrun with the wildest of flora and fauna alike, rests what remained of the King's ill-conceived sanctuary.  The wrought iron fronts, thought to bar his treasure from danger, had given in to the twinning masses of kudzu that sprung free of the antiquated marble foyer.  An indelible scent, of things behind and under, permeated the air of this abandoned alcove.  Swept within its wake was the cloying perfume of briar roses, some long rotted and others in full bloom.  This long-forgotten place reeked of a fouled Spring … soft, dark, moist … dead.  Within this burden of petal and thorn alike she lay, lost to the confines of dreams undreamed and fates disjointed.  And Beauty is her name …


Well, Sybil to be sure.  Although when one has slept so long as she, you tend to forget things.  Important things.  Like a name.  A face.  You forget your purpose in the tales that are spun.  Sybil Who Sleeps remembers only her dreams, and as of late they've grown most foul.  Fantasia is no more, Sybil need not open her eyes to be certain of that reality.  No more do blue jays rest upon the swells of her breasts, twittering on as to who laid what egg where … how long you've to sit upon the damned thing before it hatches.  The doe does not nibble at the swath of her skirts.  Never again will the great-great grandson of the Prince dare to scale the kudzu vines, nor brave the wrath of the briars to venture a peek at the woman-child who laid ruin to their hearts.


Sybil knows because she watched it all in a never-ending dream.  There are no birds, no deer, nor admirers in this sanctuary.  But there is a most loathsome bat.  Even now the bristled hide caresses at the jut of Sybil's chin.  Its fetid breath, heavy with the scent of blood, wafts into her nostrils and cloys Sybil's senses with a dream past dreamt.  One of woodland creatures ravaged.  Their entrails strewn across the glade and left to grow plump and juicy.  A fitting feast for the wolves that bay and Ogres lumbering amongst their pack.  Even the hare, so fleet of foot, was not spared …

Once Upon A Dream

“Take heed, take heed! Rest not here sweet childe,” chirps the bluebirds as they, from the safety of their hovel, did spy.   Their nest of feather and wood twined will not save them.  It did not save them from the encroaching darkness.  The deer scatter, their wake smelling of pungent piss and fear.  Even the Raven, so lofty so cruel, will not tarry.  “Caw … caw, watch as I too fly away.  Beauty, fair maid, ‘tis folly to stay.  Comes now the Wolf.  Harried and dread, ‘ware for his hunger is but whetted with Red!”  The woods are dark, there is no light in this glade, it blankets the trees and to the sun gives shade.  “Who minds the reins to this manner of beast,” Sybil struggles to say, mind and limbs heavy with the burgeoning weight her curse, this slumber.  She looks askance to the critters left behind and under, corpses frozen in fright, their scattered entrails twice foretelling this plight.  Torn asunder, these are but gifts to be left behind and under.  But to who are they gifted?  The hare answers, or rather its severed head.  ”Wolves, wolves! Four and twenty, crept into the wood.  They slay us surely as only wolves could!”  Its wet squeal falls silent as finally Sybil rises.  This is a fitting fate, it is utter despair.  “There is a hole in this world and so I bid you welcome here.  So dark are these woods,“ she cries, the chorus so much like laughing.  “Awake … awake, says I … Would you be moved by a kiss?,” she viciously taunts, though the dead are not moved by her venomous hiss.  “Ah, but were it as easy as that!  Now you all shall too remain stiff upon your backs!”

The Darkness now knows its seed is planted, from a tainted heart will its weed bloom.  “There’s a Wolf at the door,” It did speak to the maid.  “Pray don't be rude. Lest he huff … and puff … and-.”


Sybil awakened with a frightened gasp.  Her sudden movement startled the hobgoblin that rested atop her heaving bosom, busy at war with the precious gems that dotted her bodice.  He toppled from his prized perch with an outraged yelp, flailing arms and legs sending the night crawlers, snakes, and spiders that adorned the dais down with him to the barren earth.  “Oi, ungrateful maid!  And here I went to such lengths to hide ye!”  There was a stir of chitters and hisses from the hobgoblin's fallen comrades.  “Not all for me self,” It exclaimed, taken aback, and all the while tried in vain to gain purchase of the stone slab once more.  Sybil gazed out into the void of the alcove, wary of the eyes that peered back from its darkened corners.  For how long had she slept … that the walls once regarded as a home and then a prison were now naught but ruin and dust?  As if It had read the maid's mind the hobgoblin gruffed, “A century and still she's better for wear! Oh … Her Dark Wondrous Beautifulness will be so pleased!”  It clapped its hands in merriment, however short-lived it was.

Without preamble Sybil had footed him from the dais once more and stood.  “Away with you,” she called out, her voice too preoccupied to bear any scorn, “ … A whole century at wait?  What of my Prince?  What of my kiss for that matter?”  Horrified Sybil climbed down from her pedestal, set out over the congregation of things that went bump in the night, and into the shadowed remains of the forest.  Strangely enough the hobgoblin and company followed in her wake, as Sybil had unwittingly set herself on a path towards the castle of Fantasia-That-Was.  Several rats squeaked amongst themselves that for a maid who had never before woke, she was awfully sure of foot!

Partner:  The Prince, or so she thought.  Somnophilia led him elsewhere, and now he is happily-ever-aftered with Snow White.  Cad!

Weaponry:  Shrewd tongue.  Sybil is admittedly without much defense, considering she is often in a near-constant state of sleep.  In that regard she has the gift of clairvoyance, which sometimes helps to avoid a sticky situation altogether.

Powers  Though the fairies had meant well, as with all gifts they endowed, the gift of sleeping had been somehow flawed by a tongue-tied amateur.  The gift of dreaming was cast upon Sybil and with it came the power to foresee the future through vague omens in the form of dreams.  Albeit questionable, some portents allow Sybil to be privy of defining catalysts, however major or minor, that affect the fates of those in this plighted kingdom.  It is a cursed skill, and like all things learned open to interpretation and err.  She bears no other power than that of a woman scorned.
“Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow...” - Lawrence Clark Powell

Aragem

I am very interested in participating.  I am very flexible in my writing so please tell me if I need to adjust my character to something that would fit in with the Dark Tale.  This is a character that leans toward Neutral if there is an opening, if not, then easily toward the Rebellion side.





Alias: The Little Mermaid / Moira

Age: 19 (in human years)

Height: 5 foot 5 inches as human  7 feet long as a mermaid

Weight: 110 pounds

Basic Appearance:  Long light brown hair, often hanging loose about her shoulders.  Bright bluish green eyes.  Full lips with with a small nose.  Aristocratic features, a lovely little gem of the sea.

Personality:  Moira is no longer the happy little mermaid that sand gleeful songs of the sea.  No, Moira has learned her lesson well about the hardship and has become a harden person because of it.  She is slow to trust and any kindness is met with suspicion and contempt.  She has no side, but her own and whoever wants what she has had better offer the bigger bid.  She rarely speaks, having once lost her voice, she understands the privilege of speech can be.

Likes:  Singing, water, swimming, money

Dislikes:  People who don't pay, fire, men who lie

Background:  Moira had a wonderful life deep on the ocean's floor.  She was the youngest daughter of the sea king and had the loveliest singing voice.  One day, as fate would have it, she curiously swam to the surface near the sea shore.  There, she laid eyes on a human prince, a handsome young man who was riding his horse along the beach.  Moira fell instantly in love and greatly desired to speak to him, to meet him.  But, it was forbidden for anyone of the sea to interact with anyone of the earth.  Forlorn, Moira spent many days hidden among the rocks to watch her beloved take his morning ride.  Soon, Moira couldn't stand being so close, yet so very far away from her prince.

She went to the sea witch, a being of great power who could grant any wish for a price.  The sea witch agreed to turn Moira into a human girl in exchange for her tongue.

"How will I tell him I love him?"

"Tell him with your eyes."

It was painful and Moira wept and screamed until it was done.  Her tongue was taken and she was no longer able to speak.  The sea witch was true to her word and when Moira went to the shore, she became human and was found by the prince that very morning.  She was taken in, believing to be a survivor of a shipwreck, but also thought to be dumb due to her inability to speak.  However, the prince saw her beauty and was smitten.  After a short friendship, he had taken Moira to his bed and began a secret love affair.  It was an affair that was allowed due to the prince's social status and the girl was a survivor with no penny or title to her name and a mute as well.  But the inevitable happened in this union, Moira came pregnant.

Moira, delighted with the prospect of having her beloved child and living with him peacefully in the castle.  That is until the prince announced his engagement to a princess from a foreign land.  At first, Moira couldn't believe that her prince would truly cast her aside for another.  She managed to get him alone and through hand signals, she informed him that she was pregnant and that she should be the one to marry him.  The prince chuckled, stroked her cheek, and told her that it was impossible for him to marry a poor girl that he took in out of charity.  And that she wasn't the first waif to bear him a son and that he promised that he would find her a proper job as a washer woman in the nearby village where she will be able to raise their child alone. 

Heart broken, Moira could only watch helplessly as the man who betrayed her prepared for a marriage to another.  On the eve of the wedding, Moira stood by the sea, prepared to drown herself and her unborn child when her sisters appeared.  Her sisters who once had long lovely locks of hair came with shaved heads.  They had with them a dagger.  They had visited the sea witch in hopes of finding a way of getting Moira back.  They told Moira that she could return to the sea if she killed the prince and cut out his heart.  They handed her the dagger and told her that they will wait by the sea until she returned with the prince's heart.

It wasn't until the wedding night that Moira had plucked up enough courage to perform the deed.  Moira slipped into the royal chambers and stood over the prince's bed.  He was sleeping with his new wife in his arms and seeing them together, their limbs tangled and both of them sleeping with the bliss that sex could bring enraged her.  And it was the prince's careless words that gave her the courage to slit his throat, letting his blood flow out onto the pillow and then plunge her dagger into the wretched princess's temple.  Moira began the bloody task of cutting out her beloved's heart and then took the princess's heart as well.

When she returned to the sea, she gave the sea witch the prince's heart to become a mermaid once again and then princess's heart to get back her tongue.  And the Sea Witch gave her a dark bargin.  She offered the mermaid the ability to switch from human to mermaid form at will in exchange for her unborn child.  The child is not of the merfolk nor is he of the humans.  You cannot raise him here for he will drown and you will be known as a pariah for giving birth to such a freak.  And nor would you want to carry the seed of the one who betrayed you, let me pluck the bastard from your womb and give you a power that will allow you to swim in the sea and walk on land.

Moira accepted the deal and gave away her unborn child.

Now a mermaid and her voice back, one would think that she would find happiness again, but that is not so.  She had broken the law of the sea.  She had consorted with humans, she had performed a dark ritual that is punishable by death.  Her sisters were executed by their own father and Moira barely escaped with her own life.  She fled to the land and used her new ability to change to a human form to flee from her home.

Alone, naked, no family, power to her name, and no lover, she was alone.  But the one thing she did have was her voice which was still lovely.  And had a power of its own.  She started as a bard, but then soon sink to that of a prostitute in the brothel of the Three Pigs.

Weaponry:  the dagger, the same dagger she used to murder her beloved and his wife

Powers:  Moira can become a mermaid in a body of water whether in the sea or a tub of water.  When she is a mermaid she can swim at high speeds and breath underwater.  Her voice also has a empathetic affect depending on her vocals.  She can made someone weep, laugh, or even feet lust or terror.

Goss

Hi everyone. Got Dark Deception to approve this, wanted to see what you all think.




Alias: Rumpelstiltskin
Age:  43
Gender: Male
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Background:

Rumpelstiltskin grew up in a cottage secluded from most towns and villages. One cold winter his parents
had fallen ill from a wicked streak of pneumonia and died. With neither of his parents to guide him in
life and having no other family, he eventually turned to crime to keep himself alive. He had found that
one of his favorite crimes involved kidnapping infants for either holding them for ransom or selling
them into the human trafficking trade. Another one was stealing gold jewelry and putting in its place his signature handful of straw, later earning him the nickname the "Straw Handed Bandit".

As years passed Rumpelstiltskin began to detest and grow bored of what he was doing, and decided to take up an honest life. He remembers his mother once telling him that she hoped that he got into textiles. She used to spin wool to make the family's clothing, and admits that he had helped her out on occasions. Deep down he didn't want to be a spinner for more than one reason, and decided to go the path he was more curious about;blacksmithing.

So his plan became a reality. He had worked harder than he had ever before, and after going from
apprentice to master, became a skilled blacksmith. Over the years he moved closer to civilization and
changed his name to Gunther Applebaum, feeling that his old name with all the thievery, kidnapping, and
murder attached to it should be erased from history.

All seemed bright for the blacksmith, but a problem continued to persist, he was not well known enough to get his own shop in production. This changed one opportunistic night when the blacksmith discovered a young beautiful woman weeping in a room filled with straw. As the story goes, her job was to spin the straw into gold. Charmed by her beauty he agreed to help with the understanding that he would get compensated for his work. She said she would see him paid equal to the gold he would make, and he believed her.

Soon after she fell fast asleep, and he began to remove the straw from the room. When he returned, he carted in and melted down all that was left of the gold jewelry he stole in his past and carefully wove it onto various spindles by hand alone. In this fashion he figured he could return the jewelry he stole back into the rightful hands. Afterward he snuck out. The blacksmith visited the young woman the next morning for his payment, but she refused. Angry, he left the room without even looking back.

Through talk he discovered that the young woman had an infant child. The old demeanor of Rumpelstiltskin
slowly began to emerge once again. He slipped into the woman's house the next night and nabbed the child
without even a hint of hesitation. Overcome with joy over this situation, he decided to play a game with her. If she could guess his old name within three days, then he would return the infant unharmed. If she
couldn't, then the infant would be slain by his own hands as payment.

He knew no one in town knew his old name, he could already see that he had won. All this fell apart the
following night when the woman overheard him mutter his name out loud in an inebriated state at the local pub. When she told him his name was Rumpelstiltskin on the third night, he literally fell apart. He became so furious that he leaped off his feet in an effort to murder the woman and her infant, but failed when he was chased away by the townsfolk who had been already standing ready after hearing the woman's plea.

Rumpelstiltskin returned to his old habits that day, no longer caring about an "honest days work." He
knew he could never open a shop as a famous blacksmith, until he came across The Queen. Proving himself
to her to be plenty worthy, she recruited him to make weapons and armor for the hordes of her army. It was a wise move, he thought as he considered what he had done in the past, to serve under the protection of most powerful ruler in the land.       

     
Basic Appearance: Short with a well defined muscular physique that appears almost box-like. His
black hair is grown long and dangles midway down his back. His beard and mustache obscure half of his
face. A pair of beady eyes are sunken so deep behind knobby cheeks that they are marked only by the
shadows casted by his brow bone. His clothing of choice is very dull. A green long sleeve cotton shirt is worn
underneath a dark brown jerkin with green pants and a green conical shaped hat that droops at the top on his head to match. Always liking to protect his feet from falling hot embers he chose a pair of thick heavy hide boots. During his work in the smith he removes the shirt and cap in favor of an apron.         

Personality: Rumpelstiltskin is described as demanding, unbending, gullible, quick to anger, and cruel. When the situation calls for him to pick a plan, he likes to stick with it without any variations. He becomes
overconfident in a situation where he thinks he sees his own victory, but most of the time proves to be his
downfall. When his failure hits him like a brick to the face, he scrambles in a panic to find a way to solve the
problem as fast as possible. This first results in him throwing a temper tantrum, and then deciding whether he
should run away or kill the one standing in front of him. A true sore loser. Making a deal with him should not be
taken lightly because required payments from individual strangers tend to be outrageous. To reinforce this it's a
known fact that he never breaks a deal; no amount of pleading can change this. Only loyal to the Queen.       

Likes: Bonfires, solitude, ale, most anything made out of straw, wooden spinning wheels or anything that
resembles them.   

Dislikes: Broken promises, being tricked, shaping fine metals, work without some form of compensation in
return.

Psychological Disorder(s):

After the event that warped him back into what he was before, he developed a great satisfaction from tormenting pretty young women. During times of low productivity When the queen allows him to he forces them into his forging chambers, ties them to a torture table, and repeatedly burns them over a period of time with a long red hot chisel.

Manifesting itself as a youngster, Rumpelstiltskin has had a fascination with the motion of rotating wooden wheels. This doesn't only include wheels from spinners, but also the wheels on wagons. The fascination is practically hypnotic; his mind will fade away from reality and time will be lost to hm. Despite having a childish love for them, he does his best to avoid having any in his possession as they are obvious distractions.   


Partner: There are occasions when Rumpelstiltskin uses some of the house staff as assistants in his work. Other than that he has no one.

Weaponry: A large number of blacksmithing tools and weaponry; swords, axes, spears, clubs, or whatever weapon he can think up or is requested to be made.

Powers

Earthquake: Able to create a small local earthquake just by stomping his right leg on the ground. Sometimes it can be so intense that he actually punches through the ground and gets it stuck! Has the potential to knock foes off their feet and cause ruptures on most surfaces. Depending on the flooring, it's even possible for chasms to form. Can only be achieved once in a while both during a time peak physical strength and infuriation (a couple time a month).

Magic Lantern: Acquired from his parents as a trinket passed down by each generation. It's origins are
unknown. When the Lantern is lit it gives the user an unusual ambiance of clear bright light for such a little
flame. When the flame is blow out and on the user's possession, they fade into a near invisible state that only the keenest set of eyes could uncover. This was his aid in kidnapping and thievery in his younger years.   

Dino


Alysanthia

If Snow White is still available, I do think I would like to play as her.

Jazra

Quote from: LadyDiscord on February 17, 2011, 11:20:51 PM
I mean what comes to mind when that name is  mentioned. 'Gretel'!

Hmm,

Leads little boys astray, charms and defeats evil witches, defeats those who abuse children, precociously bright.  Not much else coming to mind.
Ons & Offs
Absences

Boy, “If I and a slice of pizza fall in the water, which do you save?

Girl, wipes grease off her chin, “Why'd you let my pizza fall in the water?”

Dark Deception

#92
I'm still looking for a Snow White and for any players that have been browsing this section, I have to admit that I do have a preference for how I would like Snow White to be. Just a basic one:

Dominant (she can also be dom/sub, but I'm sure she would be very resistant to sub if her partner was male) - she's the Mafia Head of Seven. She is going to be a woman in power and it would be pretty hot if she wore the whole suits, ties--male apparel because she might be too tomboy to wear female clothes. She might even dislike being compared to the female stereotype.

Hardcore She might be strict, and she also is unafraid to kill. In fact, you would rather her dwarves than her coming to kill you. She may also be the one doing the torture.

Sexy/Hot/Attractive On top of all this, she is gorgeous and she is rather sexy in a dark sense with her mannerisms. It will be like the whole poison apple scenario. She looks delicious, but if you take a bite you might lose your life.

If you don't think you can play a dominant female or Snow White, don't try to ask for her role. It is better if you just turn away. I would rather have a player who looked at this description, got excited, and was confident that he or she could play the part. You must be confident in yourself and your writing.


Currently involved in: 6 role plays

Trost

Quote
Alias: Snow White (Zylphia)

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Height: 5’6

Weight: 124lbs

Appearance: Just as the rumors say, her skin is as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as night. Her eyes are a striking blue that can be cold with rage or cool as water in summer. Her hair is a rich black waterfall of ringlets that fall past her shoulders. It is usually tied up in a regular Victorian fashion. She has bangs that border her face, though usually flip to the side at an angle above her brow. Her dress is a shortened Victorian style that stops in poufy folds around her knees. The dress is pinstripe with an accent of deep red. She wears black heeled boots and long black silk gloves. ((Will be drawn later.))

Personality: Many question where Zylphia’s intentions lie since her vengeance is reputable and she runs a Mafia. However, those that know her know a good-mannered personality both strong and inviting as her beauty. Though when crossed, she is a ruthless force of vengeance to be reckoned with. She is wary with people at first and rather intimidating, though this is just a precaution. Once in her good graces, she treats you like family. Since she is scared to be like her stepmother, she remains humble despite being the fairest. Her cheeks often get rosy with embarrassment from compliments.

Likes: cleanliness, order, good music,

Dislikes: Mistreatment of others, betrayers, evil-doers

Personality Disorder: Extreme OCD

Background: Many years ago, a duchess gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, yet unfortunately died in the process. Her husband soon remarried to a vain woman, a witch, who was proud and known greatly for her beauty. She held the duke under a powerful spell of amour, making him happily subdued to her every whim. The witch soon became the head of the household, the wealth, and land by the use of her power. And every night, she would seat herself in front of her mirror proudly and ask it:

“Oh mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of us all?”

“Thou art the fairest, dear duchess.” It relied and the witch was pleased.

As the years went by, though, the baby girl, named Zylphia, grew into a fine young woman. Many pursued and admired her, and her complexion soon dubbed her the nickname “Snow White.” The witch eyed the girl warily as time passed; knowing she was that of beauty, yet the girl lived happily and safely after every day the witch confirmed with the mirror that she was, indeed, still the fairest. Until, one day, the witch sat herself down in front of the mirror and said:

“Oh mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the fairest of us all?”

“Thou wert the fairest, dear duchess,
For now Snow White doth beauty bless.”

Outraged, the witch tossed the fair maiden into servitude, hoping to tarnish the beauty through tenuous labor. Bitten by betrayal and losing her entire life of luxury, Zylphia pleaded to her father to speak with her stepmother. Blinded by love, the duke lashed at the girl and tossed her under more labor. As the years dragged by, the maiden’s heart remained good, yet hardened under the relentless whip of her stepmother and father, yet her beauty prevailed. During the time of her servitude, her only solace was the seven servant dwarves that she befriended.

Zylphia still remaining the fairest and the stepmother became poisoned by her own vanity. Crazed with jealousy, she demanded her husband to order the fair maidens death, and he did so without hesitation. Zylphia was arrested and ordered to be hanged the next day without trail. Though that night, the seven dwarves freed her from the prison. Having had enough of the torment, Zylphia grabbed a blade from the guard. Though her beauty remained fair, the labor had made her muscles strong, her wits keen, and her body agile. With the help of the Seven, Zylphia snuck into the chamber of her parents, killed her father, and captured her stepmother. She put the witch through many days of torture, making her dance in iron shoes heated to red hot until the witch died.

Freed from her servitude, Zylphia took over the land, wealth and power of her father. She made her dwarven friends members of her court. The maiden was as fair a ruler as her beauty, though her vengeance was wildly known and few crossed her. Using her father’s power and wealth, she used it to create a Mafia structure with the code name “Snow White”. When the Evil Queen took over, Zylphia immediately began her own revolt against her. Some say something in the Evil Queen’s actions struck a nerve…

Partners: The Seven (though I’ll have them on neutral so that anyone can use them, unless Dark Deception dictates otherwise)

Weaponry: Zylphia is famous for her poison usage for her enemies, mainly with apples. Since she does live the life of a Dona in a Mafia, she has trained herself to defend with a sword. She also uses her stepmothers mirror as a source of information.

I understand Zylphia's storyline borders with yours, Deception, with the witch taking over and oppressing. I was keeping it similar to the Snow White tale, and I figured it would be a great motivator for Zylphia to have a grudge against witches and them taking over households. If you don't like that, I can change it.
~*Art is the bridging of ideas, emotions, and thoughts when simple communication fail to express the true depth of meaning and purpose. Art is the creation of humanity.*~