Harvest Moon: A New Dawn

[Quiet Souris]

Okay, I am definitely open to this! Still got room?

 

[Soulserenity20]

So far I've got newcomer, doctor, and mid to late twenties woman..

That's a good sounding start :)

 

[Soulserenity20]

Okay, I am definitely open to this! Still got room?

Yes there's one last spot, please fill out a CS sheet, mainly the first half. I'm going to keep sign ups open until I can officially approve all players then we can move along.

 

[Quiet Souris]

Just putting this here for formalities sake.

First things first:
-Writing Level: Adept Advanced, Prestige.
-Number of Other RP's you are in: Two.
-Expected Posts per Week: 5+
-Dedication Level: 8-9. I love HM and wouldn't miss this for the world.
-Writing Sample: I shall go grab one...

EXAMPLE

A Song and A Kiss, blue

"No." A shadow detached itself from the shadow of the wall, to become a tall man in dark grey armor. Sandor Clegane wrenched off his helm with both hands and let it fall to the ground. The steel was scorched and dented, the left ear of the snarling hound sheared off. A gash above one eye had sent a wash of blood down across the Hound's old burn scars, masking half his face.
"Yes." Tyrion faced him.
Clegane's breath came ragged. "Bugger that. And you."
A sellsword stepped up beside him. "We been out. Three times. Half our menare killed or hurt. Wildfire bursting all around us, horses screaming like men and men like horses - "

"Did you think we hired you to fight in a tourney? Shall I bring you a nice iced milk and a bowl of raspberries? No? Then get on your fucking horse. You too, dog."
The blood on Clegane's face glistened red, but his eyes showed white. He drew his longsword.
He is afraid, Tyrion realized, shocked. The Hound is frightened. He tried to explain their need. "They've taken a ram to the gate, you can hear them, we need to disperse them - "
"Open the gates. When they rush inside, surround them and kill them." The Hound thrust the point of his longsword into the ground and leaned upon the pommel, swaying. "I've lost half my men. Horse as well. I'm not taking more into that fire."
Ser Mandon Moore moved to Tyrion's side, immaculate in his enameled white plate. "The King's Hand commands you."
"Bugger the King's Hand." Where the Hound's face was not sticky with blood, it was pale as milk. "Someone bring me a drink." A gold cloak officer handed him a cup. Clegane took a swallow, spit it out, flung the cup away. "Water? Fuck your water. Bring me wine."
He is dead on his feet. Tyrion could see it now. The wound, the fire . . . he's done, I need to find someone else, but who? Ser Mandon? He looked at the men and knew it would not do. Clegane's fear had shaken them. Without a leader, they would refuse as well, and Ser Mandon . . . a dangerous man, Jaime said, yes, but not a man other men would follow.

••••••••••

Her bedchamber was black as pitch. Sansa barred the door and fumbled through the dark to the window. When she ripped back the drapes, her breath caught in her throat.
The southern sky was aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflections of the great fires that burned below. Baleful green tides moved against the bellies of the clouds, and pools of orange light spread out across the heavens. The reds and yellows of common flame warred against the emeralds and jades of wildfire, each color flaring and then fading, birthing armies of short-lived shadows to die again an instant later. Green dawns gave way to orange dusks in half a heartbeat. The air itself smelled burnt, the way a soup kettle sometimes smelled if it was left on the fire too long and all the soup boiled away. Embers drifted through the night air like swarms of fireflies.
Sansa backed away from the window, retreating toward the safety of her bed. I'll go to sleep, she told herself, and when I wake it will be a new day, and the sky will be blue again. The fighting will be done and someone will tell me whether I'm to live or die. "Lady," she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.
Then something stirred behind her, and a hand reached out of the dark and grabbed her wrist.
Sansa opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped down over her face, smothering her. His fingers were rough and callused, and sticky with blood. "Little bird. I knew you'd come." The voice was a drunken rasp.
Outside, a swirling lance of jade light spit at the stars, filling the room with green glare. She saw him for a moment, all black and green, the blood on his face dark as tar, his eyes glowing like a dog's in the sudden glare. Then the light faded and he was only a hulking darkness in a stained white cloak.
"If you scream I'll kill you. Believe that." He took his hand from her mouth. Her breath was coming ragged. The Hound had a flagon of wine on her bedside table. He took a long pull. "Don't you want to ask who's winning the battle, little bird?"
"Who?" she said, too frightened to defy him.
The Hound laughed. "I only know who's lost. Me."
He is drunker than I've ever seen him. He was sleeping in my bed. What does he want here? "What have you lost?"
"All." The burnt half of his face was a mask of dried blood. "Bloody dwarf. Should have killed him. Years ago."
"He's dead, they say."
"Dead? No. Bugger that. I don't want him dead." He cast the empty flagon aside. "I want him burned. If the gods are good, they'll burn him, but I won't be here to see. I'm going."
"Going?" She tried to wriggle free, but his grasp was iron.
"The little bird repeats whatever she hears. Going, yes."
"Where will you go?"
"Away from here. Away from the fires. Go out the Iron Gate, I suppose. North somewhere, anywhere."
"You won't get out," Sansa said. "The queen's closed up Maegor's, and the city gates are shut as well."
"Not to me. I have the white cloak. And I have this." He patted the pommel of his sword. "The man who tries to stop me is a dead man. Unless he's on fire." He laughed bitterly.

"Why did you come here?"
"You promised me a song, little bird. Have you forgotten?"
She didn't know what he meant. She couldn't sing for him now, here, with the sky aswirl with fire and men dying in their hundreds and their thousands. "I can't," she said. "Let me go, you're scaring me."
"Everything scares you. Look at me. Look at me."
The blood masked the worst of his scars, but his eyes were white and wide and terrifying. The burnt corner of his mouth twitched and twitched again. Sansa could smell him; a stink of sweat and sour wine and stale vomit, and over it all the reek of blood, blood, blood.
"I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life."
Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.
Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
save our sons from war, we pray,
stay the swords and stay the arrows,
let them know a better day.
Gentle Mother, strength of women,
help our daughters through this fray,
soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
teach us all a kinder way.
She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking.
Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed.

Sandor Clegane, grey

She was so afraid. He could see it in her eyes and she was always afraid. Everywhere her eyes looked, they were afraid and though his thoughts were clouded with the drink and the fear, he could still see that fear. The little dove, in her cage of woven lies and secrets so entangled it was a wonder she could see her world clearly.

"I could keep you safe." His voice was rough, slurred as the drink loosened his tongue. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He was a man who knew little of the feelings or the hearts of others, unless they were on the other end of his blade. He knew even less his own heart, crippled and afeared and burnt beyond all recognition that it was. For at times, he surmised, his heart was more deeply scarred than the wax-waved scars of his face. He grinned savagely, the tip of his scarred mouth twitching ever so slightly as it did at times.

"Come with me. I'll take you North. I'll take you home, to whatever is left of it and you'll be safe. You cannot stay here. The queen is a cunning fox and it is she who you must fear. Fear for your honour and your heart when with Joffrey but it is your life that Cersei Lannister will strip from you. You are a little bird, trapped in a cage." He glanced away, into the sky lit green and the whites of his eyes still shone from the fear of the wildfire. "Are you going to wait for the cat to eat you or fly through an open door?"

He had to leave- and soon. The gates would open for the white cloak but if news travelled of his desertion, he'd have only his blade to get out with. Even as the Hound, he would need more to 'entice' the guards to let him slip past. Her auburn red hair was spread like a wave around her and there were many things his brain demanded in the moments. Kiss her.Fuck her.Kill her.Possess her.

He did none of those things but instead rose from the bed, swaying a little from the drink but standing firm on his feet, cloak drawn across his shoulders and the dried blood across his scars juxtaposing the desecration of his face. He needed an answer and soon. "Little bird?" His voice demanded an answer, now. For he would leave, with or without her. Stranger could carry two or one, it would not matter one way or the other.

​

​

-Do you have experience with HM games?: Yes, I have played all the HM games available on the DS, gameboy and a few times on other platforms.

NOTE: Keep your CS fairly simple for now because you aren't guarenteed acceptance. I only want a few players and I do have expectations from those players.

Now, to the Character:
-Name: Tamar Abram
-Age: 24
-Gender: Female
-Appearance: With olive skin and dark features, she's sometime different from the lighter skinned people of the town. Growing up in the desert has made her skin olive brown. Her hair is long and dark, often wrapped up in a braid as it hangs past her waist. Her features are sharp and while not traditionally beautiful, she is easy on the eyes. Her eyes are a dark, dark blue, bordering on brown-black and often only shine their blue in the sun. She is about 5'6, with a lean and thin build but by no means weak.
-Local or Newcomer: Newcomer
-Occupation: Farmer. She's best at growing herbs and medicinal items, as well as fruit trees. Keeps a few chickens and goats/sheep/cows as well.
-Personality in 5 words: Intelligent, Confident, Resilient, Cheerful, Optimistic.
-Bio: Born in the desert far the south-east, Tamar grew up as a child in a wandering nomadic clan. She was the eldest of six siblings, something that taught her a fair amount of responsibility at a young age. She grew up learning the ways of nature, how to heal using herbs and how to grow things in the bleakest of places. She tended herbs and cattle, always on the move and running.
She left the tribe when she was 20, making her way down to the legendary lush mountains and valleys, travelling from place to place as a hired hand for whatever needed doing there.
-Relatioships: Father: Gavriel Abrams, Mother: Rebekha Abrams, Siblings:
Younger sisters: Betany, Irei, Mara, Hadassah
Younger brother: Chasviel (her twin)
-Likes: Strawberries, Cats, birds, music, violins
Dislikes: Bland food, snakes, spiders
-Pets:
Horse: Ariella
Cat: Miriam

-In game birthday: 18 Autumn

 

[Astaroth]

Oh shit. I hope I'm not too late to join in this.

 

[Soulserenity20]

Oh shit. I hope I'm not too late to join in this.

.... Well.. if you can get a CS up in the next hour you're in. (Top half is what I need most)

 

[Soulserenity20]

-Occupation: Not sure what is available. Doctor is preferable but of course, I can work without it. Librarian or farmer is my second choice.

Doctor is taken :3

OKAY: Signups are closed:

[rainbow]Accepted players as it Stands[/rainbow]
Vio
Quiet Souris
Adachi Tohru
Windsong
Ozzie Chanter
CrimsonMaiden​

 

[Windsong]

Don't even have a sheet up and I'm accepted.

Must've been something I said.

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

Okay, so, can I still post a CS or...?

 

[Astaroth]

-Writing Level: Flexible. I've been RPing for 15 years and I do freelance editing, so I know what I'm doing. I also write guides for Iwaku's Roleplay Institute. However, I can match whatever my partners are comfortable with.
-Number of Other RP's you are in: Only one group RP right now.
-Expected Posts per Week: At bare minimum, I will post once a week. I do have a busy schedule but I will make time and post as much as I can.
-Dedication Level: I've been looking for a Harvest Moon game for ages, so I'm extremely interested. No worries on that score.

WRITING SAMPLE

The volcanic flares in the distance lit up the moon's atmosphere with flashes of red-orange as a ragged-looking bunch of wastelanders trekked into the town of New Junction- or as the locals liked to call it, New Junk. The group was small, numbering only six or seven, and all wrapped in similar cloaks of tan leather which served to protect against the harsh sandstorms that ravaged the surface of Damascus. These in particular were well-worn, ratty and tattered and stained with the Planessiah only knew what. Even for wastelanders, these people were clearly only just barely scraping by.

Jeb Sylvester, proprietor of the Silver Comet Saloon, kept a weather eye on the party as they filed in quiet-like through the swinging doors of his establishment, polishing a steel tumbler with a dirty rag. It was a hard job to keep things clean, given the climate around these parts, but he did his best- and he didn't care much for the muck his latest customers were tracking in on their boots. Wastelanders were usually just your average nomads, those too poor to afford the precious-scarce Basilica-funded housing, but every now and then you got thieves and other troublemakers moseying into town. Jeb glanced at his server-bot; if necessary, he'd signal the little fella to contact the Sheriff. It wouldn't be the first time a situation called for drastic measures.

No one wanted to have to call in the Sheriff.

But the party settled themselves in a booth at the back of the otherwise deserted saloon without any fuss, talking in low tones amongst themselves. One of them rose within the minute, pulling their hood close about their face, and wandered over to lean across the bar. Jeb set down the tumbler and gave a cautious nod; in return, the wastelander held up three fingers.

"Three whiskeys," they said, and Jeb blinked slowly. It was a little lady under that cloak. He'd never have guessed, from her height and the shroud of her garb. "And a pitcher of water. What have you got for solids?"

She'd barely finished speaking when the doors pushed open again, a breeze whipping sand and bits of tumbleweed in with the long shadows of the new- much noisier- arrivals. Jeb recognized them by sound alone: Billy Strychnine and his hoverbike gang were unmistakeable, with the rattle of their heavy chains, the hard thumping of their boots, and the fractious ruckus of their dialogue. Now Billy... Billy was trouble; big trouble. Jeb's hand strayed to the laser rifle he kept stored under the bar.

Sure enough, Billy's gang crowded into the bar, rowdy and raring to fight, whether it be each other or someone less armored. Billy sidled up to the bar like top dog, ignoring the wastelander woman entirely as he barked at Jeb to get them a full round and make it quick. Wordless, Jeb hastened to fill the order. He didn't want to be the match that lit the fire. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as several of the burlier gang members loomed over the wastelanders' table. One of them jabbed a grubby, brass-knuckled finger into a wastelander's face.

"You're sittin' at our table, friend," the tough began, baring yellowed teeth in a menacing smile. "Would you kindly move?"

It wasn't truthfully their regular table, of course. This was about bossing around folks who were weaker than them, of marking their territory and asserting their dominance like the bastard pack of jackals they were. Jeb knew that, and he hoped to the Planessiah these wastelanders did too.

No such luck.

"Your table?" he heard the wastelander reply. Another dame. "I don't see your name on it, stranger. There are plenty of other tables in this joint. Why don't you and your amigos pick one of those?"

The biker didn't like that, not one bit. With a face like he'd bitten into a sour cactus, the man pulled out a blade faster than Jeb could sneeze and slammed it sharp-side into Jeb's nice polished wood table. It bit in with a resounding crunch, the surface splitting outward from where the point struck. Several of the wastelanders recoiled, but the woman who'd spoken didn't so much as flinch, even when the brawny ganger started to threaten her again.

"I said, friend, that you're sitting at our table. I'd like for us to all stay friends here," he drawled the lie, pulling the knife free and sending splinters scattering across the saloon as he wiggled the knife at her. "Let's see a smile, little lady, or will I hafta carve it in for you?"

The sound of a trigger setting from STANDBY to ARMED effectively silenced the saloon.

Jeb wasn't entirely sure how she'd done it; he'd lost track of her somewhere in the exchange between her friend and Billy's pal. But the woman who'd been at the bar was holding a pistol to the ganger's temple. He did a double-take, because it looked like law-enforcement issue, but that wasn't possible. Unless...

"Back away there, friend, peace-like," Ex-Sheriff Margo Lux told the biker in a voice like space-cooled gunmetal. "We don't have to do it this way. We can all just sit down, have a drink, and forget that any of this ever happened."

Jeb waited with bated breath as they stared each other down.

And then, the saloon erupted into chaos.

-Do you have experience with HM games?: Are you kidding? It's one of my favorite game series. I've played quite a few of them.


Character

-Name: Lyle Everett
-Age: 25
-Gender: Male

APPEARANCE

-Local or Newcomer: Local
-Occupation: Librarian
-Personality in 5 words: Friendly, energetic, daydreamer, clumsy, honest.
-Bio: Although Lyle grew up in Springtown, he was actually born in a town over the mountains and moved here with his mother when he was very small. As a child he was painfully shy and spent most of his time ensconced at the local library, reading books and striking up a friendship with the elderly librarian, Mr. Summer.

As he grew older, he began to come out of his shell... but he kept returning to the library nearly every day. Over time, he even began to help out with shelving books and managing the filing system. So when Mr. Summer decided to retire two years ago, it was not much of a surprise that he asked Lyle to step in and fill his shoes.

-Relationships: To be updated. Lyle gets along with most people, but his only close friend is Mr. Summer (his predecessor). Lyle's mother, Linda Everett, is the local florist. His father is deceased.

-Likes/Dislikes:

Likes: Books, hearing stories (especially about adventures), meeting new people, the outdoors, hiking, animals, fresh bread, spicy food.

Dislikes: Being interrupted, sour food, loud music, paperwork, public speaking, turnips.

-Pets: A grey tabby cat named Gus.

 

[Soulserenity20]

Okay, so, can I still post a CS or...?

Yes. Please fill out the CS skeleton I provided on the first page.

@Windsong Yes, I like you.

 

[Quiet Souris]

Second Character

-Name: Chasviel Abram, known mostly as Chas.
-Age: 24
-Gender: Male
-Appearance: Much like his sister, he has the olive skin and dark features that mark him from the desert lands. Standing at 6 foot, he is not wide but leanly built, from years of horse riding and nomadic travel, hard work every day as he tends sheep and fields in the grassy plains. His eyes are dark, almost black but for the hint of blue in the sun. His features are sharp, like his sister's but beautiful in companion with his olive toned skin. His hair is shaggy, wavy and reaches in raven length to his shoulders, sometimes tied back for better vision.
-Local or Newcomer: Newcomer.
-Occupation: Carpenter. He also helps his sister with the farm and such. He enjoys decorating wood with flowing murals and patterns, as there is a little bit of an artist in him.
-Personality in 5 words: Quiet, strong, cheerful, creative, caring.
-Bio: He grew up in the wild desert, running free as a child and growing stronger, bolder every day. He was a quiet but brilliant child, always seeking answers to the world around him and never wanting to quit once he was interested. He started carving wood when he was seven, with a knife and a small branch. Weeks later, with old and new cuts on his hand, he made the first item from wood: a wooden flute, practical and useable. From then on, he grew to love the whittling of wood and the feel of timber beneath his hands. He made tent poles, wagons, small trinkets- anything to do what he loved best. He left the tribe with his sister at age 20, as they travelled down to the green valleys they had often dreamed of visiting. She would tend gardens and help the doctors there, while he structured houses and chairs and small knick knacks for curious children.
-Relatioships:
Father: Gavriel Abrams, Mother: Rebekha Abrams, Siblings:
Younger sisters: Betany, Irei, Mara, Hadassah
Older sister: Tamar (his twin)


-Likes: Wool, wood, anything hand-made, sweet/spicy food, rabbits, cats
Dislikes: Bland food, birds, spiders, the cold,
In game birthday: 18 Autumn

 

[Soulserenity20]

Second Character

-Name: Chasviel Abram, known mostly as Chas.
-Age: 24
-Gender: Male
-Appearance: Much like his sister, he has the olive skin and dark features that mark him from the desert lands. Standing at 6 foot, he is not wide but leanly built, from years of horse riding and nomadic travel, hard work every day as he tends sheep and fields in the grassy plains. His eyes are dark, almost black but for the hint of blue in the sun. His features are sharp, like his sister's but beautiful in companion with his olive toned skin. His hair is shaggy, wavy and reaches in raven length to his shoulders, sometimes tied back for better vision.
-Local or Newcomer: Newcomer.
-Occupation: Carpenter. He also helps his sister with the farm and such. He enjoys decorating wood with flowing murals and patterns, as there is a little bit of an artist in him.
-Personality in 5 words: Quiet, strong, cheerful, creative, caring.
-Bio: He grew up in the wild desert, running free as a child and growing stronger, bolder every day. He was a quiet but brilliant child, always seeking answers to the world around him and never wanting to quit once he was interested. He started carving wood when he was seven, with a knife and a small branch. Weeks later, with old and new cuts on his hand, he made the first item from wood: a wooden flute, practical and useable. From then on, he grew to love the whittling of wood and the feel of timber beneath his hands. He made tent poles, wagons, small trinkets- anything to do what he loved best. He left the tribe with his sister at age 20, as they travelled down to the green valleys they had often dreamed of visiting. She would tend gardens and help the doctors there, while he structured houses and chairs and small knick knacks for curious children.
-Relatioships:
Father: Gavriel Abrams, Mother: Rebekha Abrams, Siblings:
Younger sisters: Betany, Irei, Mara, Hadassah
Older sister: Tamar (his twin)


-Likes: Wool, wood, anything hand-made, sweet/spicy food, rabbits, cats
Dislikes: Bland food, birds, spiders, the cold,
In game birthday: 18 Autumn

^o^ Two sets of farming twins? Yes please! Lol I could see the two pairs getting along quite well.

 

[Quiet Souris]

Oh, I hadn't seen anyone had already done so... Sorry...

But yes, it shall be fun! But he's primarily a carpenter I suppose.

 

[Soulserenity20]

Oh, I hadn't seen anyone had already done so... Sorry...

But yes, it shall be fun! But he's primarily a carpenter I suppose.

Lol don't worry about it! I edited my CS's in in my OP. I should have posted them in a new post. Honestly, they're just my characters from the last time I ran this RP on a different site :3

 

[Astaroth]

@Soulserenity20

Okay, finished editing my bio. I kept it simple for now, so let me know what you think.

 

[Soulserenity20]

@Soulserenity20

Okay, finished editing my bio. I kept it simple for now, so let me know what you think.

I like it so far :) Cute character

 

[Esmeray]

(I skipped the first half cuz you already know me and my role-playing capabilities, however, if you want I can come back and include it.)

Name
Erinia (Air-een-a) Marie Hall
"Erin"

Age
22

Gender
Female

Appearance

Casual Outfit

Work Outfit
[Spoili]

[/spoili]

Formal Attire
[Spoili]

[/spoili]

Local or Newcomer
Local

Occupation
fisher(wo)man, and Ferry(wo)man

Personality
Curious, Friendly/Polite/Kind, Generous, Adventurous, Open-Minded

Bio:

Spring 7th, The day started like any other for this couple. Richard, the local fisherman of the town, had started his day's work by crabbing along the docks, while his beautiful and pregnant wife Clara rested at home on their porch swing with book in hand. Time went by with flying colors as the expecting date steadily approached. Though, Clara was not feeling particularly well that morning and her baby seemed to be in quite the fuss as it kicked in her mother's womb. Yes, they were going to have a little girl and the two were very excited.

Hours passed and Richard came home to find his wife miscarrying, she was in a panic and in pain as blood stained her yellow sun dress. Frantic, Richard took his wife to the hospital immediately. Upon arriving Clara was tended to at once. The doctor and his nurses worked hard to save the baby. They succeeded, but the scare rattled Clara to her core. They were told at the beginning of her pregnancy that Clara was not physically fit to handle birth, and now Clara began to fear the worst. The doctor ordered that Clara stay in the hospital for the remainder of their pregnancy.

There were no further complications until a few weeks later, Clara's water broke and she went into labor on the 30th. She was in labor for twelve hours, leading into the following day the 31st, and a miracle was brought into the world. Unfortunately at a price, for Clara passed away during child birth. The father though grieving, loved his baby girl the moment he saw her and held her in his arms. She was given a name her late mother wanted, Erin. Several days later, the young newborn was dismissed from the hospital and brought to her new home by the sea. "Welcome home Erin."

Erin grew steadily over the years, like all children do. She was looking more and more like her mother as the years passed, but she was definitely a little bit of her father in her. She adopted his curiousness of the life around her, but more so in that of the ocean. Erin's father raised her well, and despite being with out her mother's guidance grew up to be quite a girl. She learned to Sew, Cook, Clean all on her own, however, she definitely took after her father in some ways. She knows every swear word imaginable, but of course being a lady she refuses to be so vulgar. Erin also developed a curiousness of life around her, but more importantly the ocean. Much like her father, she took an interest in the great blue and after pleading with her father he finally agreed to teach her his trade. Now several years later Erin is running the Fishery right along side her father and loving every minute of it.



Relatioships

- Richard (Father, Extremely Close)
- Clara (Mother, Deceased)
- Aurana, The Mermaid (Best Friends)

- Skye Lumina (Local Friend, Fondness)
- Shade Lumina (Local Friend, Fondness)
- Lyle Everett (Acquaintance, Fondness)
- Lee kaleman (Friend of Father) (Fishing Buddy)
- Mia Kaleman (Acquaintance, dislikes her)
- Tyler Catrell (Acquaintance, Intimidated by)
- Alvina Pentin (Acquaintance)
- Abigail Thomas (Stranger)
- Mary Fannon (Stranger)
- Chasviel Abram (Stranger)
- Tamar Abram (Stranger)
- Clair and Charlotte (Strangers)

Likes/Dislikes

Likes:
- Surfing
- Snorkeling/Scooba Diving
- Swimming
- Fishing
- Collecting Seashells
- Wild life (Primarily Aquatic)
- Friends and Family
- Spring and Summer
- Sunny Weather
- Socializing/Meeting new people
- Aquatic based Cuisine, Spicy Food, Fruit
- Fruity Alcoholic Drinks, citrus based rather than sweet
- Milk and Cookies (cookies are the only sweets she will eat)
- Pineapples (Only sweet fruit she likes)

Dislikes:
- Animal Abuse
- Wastefulness
- Pollution
- Rude People
- Strong Alcohol
- Sweet Food (Cherries, Strawberries, Chocolate, Candy, Cakes, Ect.)
- The Caves
- Arguments/Fights
- Getting sick or injured
- Being unable to work
- Reading
- Being inside
- Ingrates
- Ores
- Insects

Pets
- She has a tank full of unnamed fish
- Polly the Macaw
- A turtle named Sheldon
- Three Geckos; Treeleech, Fang, and Specks
- Five Stray Cats; Figaro, Alice, Sabbath, Winston (pooky), and Prince

Misc

+ Erin will only consider dating people who are on good terms with her father. She thinks the world of him and values his opinion strongly.

Name
Tyrell Jackson the Second, Tyrell Junior
" Tj "

Age
25

Gender
Male

Appearance

work
[spoili]

[/spoili]​

Casual
[spoili]

[/spoili]


Local or Newcomer
Newcomer

Occupation
Apprentice Blacksmith and Moderate Miner

Personality
Courageous, Prideful, Stubborn, Loyal, Childish/Immature and Irresponsible

Bio

Tyrell grew up in the slums of a eastern city far from the village of blossoms. He grew up with two parents, however, mostly in his mother's hands. His dad was a busy man, and often would leave for several months on duty. That was the price to pay for serving ones country. Never the less Tyrell learned to respect what his father did, and spent every moment he had with his father when he came home. Sadly, when Tyrell was twelve years old his father's caravan was attacked by a enemy fighters and did not survive. They mourned his loss, and Tyrell never seemed to have been able to cope.

It got even worse when his mother, Hope, started dating again two years after. Tyrell was not ready to let a new father figure in his life, and as a result of seeing everyone move on so quickly he began to lash out. He started doing poorly in school, his behavior changed dramatically, and he began to get into fights with others. His mother worked tirelessly to get him to change the direction he was going, but he was already to far gone at this point.

At the age of sixteen, Tyrell had finally been initiated into a city gang. He began stealing, destroying public property, drug use, and had various run-ins with the law. Of course, it didn't seem like a big deal to him at first, but even he began to worry when his fellow gang bangers tried pushing him into carrying a gun. Then random guys he did't know started to attack him, and soon he was brought into an all out gang war. That wasn't what he wanted to be a part of. He didn't like the thought of potentially killing someone his age. Of course facing up to his own gang bangers wasn't really ideal either. Feeling trapped and pressured he took part in a gun fight with the rival gang. The fight was terrifying, and ended horribly for him. He got injured badly during the fight, and was sent to the hospital as a result. His mother, completely distraught, put her foot down and gave him a choice. Either straighten up, or be sent away. Tyrell took this opportunity to leave the gang, and decided to go live with his uncle in the village of blossoms. Since he was moving, he was let go from the gang with little opposition. Now he is living with his Uncle, the blacksmith, as reformation.

Relationships

- Hope Smith (Mother)
- Tyrell Jackson (Biological Father)
- Sean Smith (Step-Father)
- Joesph Smith (Half-Brother)
- Micheal Williams (Uncle, Close)
- Richard Hall (Friend of Uncle)
- Erinia Hall (Stranger, Interested in)
- Skye Lumina (Stranger)
- Shade Lumina (Stranger)
- Lyle Everett (Stranger)
- Lee kaleman (Friend of Uncles)
- Mia Kaleman (Friend of Uncles)
- Tyler Catrell (Stranger)
- Alvina Pentin (Stranger)
- Abigail Thomas (Stranger, Interested in)
- Mary Fannon (Stranger)
- Chasviel Abram (Stranger)
- Tamar Abram (Stranger)
- Tyrell Jackson (Stranger)
- Clair and Charlotte (Strangers)
- Aurana, The Mermaid (Stranger)


Likes/Dislikes

Likes:
- Fossils
- Ores
- Gems
- Dairy
- Sweet food, Spicy Food
- Alcohol
- Fruit
- Nuts
- Socializing
- The color red
- Camo

Dislikes:
- Bland Food
- Horrible Cooking
- Insects
- Sarcasm
- Vegetables
- Fish
- Flowers (allergic)
- Tea
- The color yellow
- Polka Dots


Pets
- Lady (Rottie)

- Tiny (Russian Blue)

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

First things first:

-Writing Level: Adept

-Number of Other RP's you are in: 5

-Expected Posts per Week: 4 or 5

-Dedication Level: 50/100

Writing Sample

Raenya glared up at the sky from atop her ship as a dry breeze blew through her hair. She had gotten tired of staring at the desert around her. She had landed in the middle of an abandoned town somewhere in the former Western states, she wasn't sure where since she turned off her location system to conserve energy. The people had most likely left after hearing of all the wonderful choices of planets they had once the gates had been put up so long ago. Why anyone would want to live on a planet like earth she had no idea. Her ship was running low on fuel and she had stopped to consider her options as far as getting off the planet.
She had recently acquired a bounty on her head, due to no fault of her own, and so walking around freely was no option at the moment. Raenya sat up and stretched her arms high over her head, pulling the muscles in her stomach as she did so. "I guess I have no choice then," she sighed as she jumped down. "I gotta walk to the next town." She squinted her eyes and put up a hand to fend off the sunlight. It was there. Very, very far away, but there. "The longer I stay here, the more I start to realize just how sad of a planet this is..." She picked up her gas can and started walking.

-Do you have experience with HM games?: Oh yes. I own 4 for the DS and one on Gamecube :)


Now, to the Character:

-Name: Abigail Thomas

-Age: 20

-Gender: female

Appearance

-Local or Newcomer: Newcomer

-Occupation: Grocer

-Personality in 5 words: level headed, kind, charismatic, approachable and helpful

-Bio: Abigail's family moved to the valley from the city she group up in far to the west of the mountain town. Her family were very used to the fast pace life style that came with living in the city. It was always an adventure growing up in the city even after her brother was born. Abigail loved it but she wanted a quiter life. She was old enough to run the shop on her own, as she often did.

Her father taught her everything she needed to know to run the store over the years and as she grew up she got to do a little bit of everything. The store was the one thing that she always loved, it was like her second home. When she was old enough she decided to leave the city for Blossom Village. She knew she wanted to open a store there once she had gotten used to the atmosphere there. It was what she wanted to do and her parents supported her wants. So Abigail eventually moved to the Village of Blossom, ready to spread her wings.

-Relationships: Mother: Melissa Thomas; Father: Earl Thomas; Brother: Jake Thomas

-Likes/Dislikes: animals, walks, fresh foods, fishing/being bored, rude people, wasting food or being ignored

-Pets: cat

 

[Soulserenity20]

OK, no more sign-ups. We need to get an OOC and IC going :) Welcome, everyone, to The Village of Blossoms