My drug of choice - Blood, Violence, Gore, Mature Content

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Hushabye, Feb 24, 2012.

  1. " You have no idea what fear is. Imagine being locked in a cage with someone stronger, faster, and much more skilled then you.. and the only thing on their mind is slowly beating you to a pulp and ripping you into pieces. No matter what you do, beg, scream, cry.. nobosy will help you. It's a moment like that when you really understand the type of person you are, I've seen people do a lot of things. Some bargain, others beg, occasionally though.. you get a fighter. "

    The cage was locked and the ring surrounded by the spectators. Judging by the audience this evening it seemed they were rolling out some of the best, and most gruesome fights they could. The stands were filled of fat cats with more money then they knew what to do with, all eager to see some poor fucking bastard be beaten into oblivion. I'm one of those unlucky fucks.

    I sat backstage as the matches progressed, I sat there.. a trainer gently massaging the knots in my shoulders and calmly telling me what I needed to do in the arena. The only thing I heard was the pounding of my own heart, like a thick heavy drum that continued to beat at that steady yet frantic pace. My chest felt like it may just explode, blood beginning to rush through my veins.. perhaps I was high off of something.

    For a long while nothing registered. They taped up my hands and feet, put vasoline across my cheeks and shoulders, yet the only thing that even hit me was the calling of my name from the announcer. " And let's bring out the challenger.. Kira! " Hands helped push me upwards, and before I knew it I was making my way up the steps into the ring.

    What happened next was a blurr, and a shock apparently. The bell rung and the match had started, my opponent came running forward only to be rewarded with a haymaker to the ribcage. A crack was felt, along with the woman bending over. A second mistake, was rewarded with my shin swinging upwards like a hammer, striking her across the jaw. The bitch went limp, and the room went silent once her bloodied face bounced off of the canvas. Looks like I was one of those.. 'fighters'.

    Let's go forward six months.

    The 'fight club' we have has only begun to increase in members and fighters it seemed. And as our little activity grew so did my notoriety, and reputation for that matter. I quickly grew from being the runt of the litter, to the biggest, and baddest bitch of them all..

    So if I can do it, why not you?

    ( Adding information, rules and a character sheets below. )
  2. Thank you for taking the time to read the introuduction, and I hope that will serve as a decent enough of an idea for what I'd like other people will bring to the table. First and foremost some rules!

    1. I impliment a post minimum in my roleplays. I like having something to read, and It isn't too hard to show some effort! Five sentence minimum, but I really do like quite a bit more then that!

    2. I will place a player cap on this roleplay once we garnish some interest, for now it will be open.

    3. I don't tolerate godmoding or power playing! This is just for fun, if going up against someone try to make it enjoyable yeah? Expect your character to get the shit kicked out of them now and again, nobody but Bruce Lee.. is well, Bruce Lee.

    4. This is going to be for mature parties. This may include Drugs, Sex, Liquor, and obviously violence.

    5. More when I think of them!

    Information and notes!

    You don't need to play as a fighter. I'm entirely comfortable as someopne playing perhaps a 'manager' of the club, simply whisper me and we can talk about the details. You could also be a trainer, spectator, medic, ect!

    The 'club' is a big place! I like to imagine it as it's own little community. Assume that you would have your own room, access to the bar, gym facillities, pool, whatever pops into your head. This roleplay is going to circle around violence of course, however even those maniacs need a little downtime no?

    I'm comfortable with adult scenes, however this is not going to turn into a full fledged fuck fest. I'm fine with people roleplaying sex scenes, I do the same on occasion howevere sex is a part of the roleplay not the entire thing.

    Character Sheet - ( Copy and Paste )

    Name - Kira Johnson

    Age - Twenty Two

    Height - Five foot six

    Weight - One hundred and twenty nine pounds

    Ethnicity - Hispanic/Caucasian

    Hair Color - Black

    Hair style - Shaved on the sides, the top is long and often put into a 'fohawk' with the bangs going across her face.

    Eye Color - Dark Forrest Green

    Occupation - Fighter

    Bio -

    She had been born in Los Angeles California, and from a young age her life had been surrounded by violence. With three older brothers involved in a gang, it was safe to say the apple never fell far from the tree. A junior criminal, ussually performing scouting or reconisance aspects she was eventually caught and detained. Without her parents around to be released to she was sent away from the negative influences of her family and arrived in foster care. For five years she remained, going to school and eventually graduating.. it seemed like she was going to turn her life around.

    Once Eighteen she returned to Los Angeles seeking out her brothers, only to find that two were no deceased and one of them remained locked in prison. Her stay.. was meant to be short, before running into trouble from her old 'gang'. They claimed she owed them compensation for leaving, and while she had no money to her name they came up witha creative way to get their money one way or another. Four years later, she was still fighting for that paycheck every night, there was simply no looking back.

    Personality -

    She was no ray of sunshine, though surprisingly was not particularly outspoken. Something of a loner when it came to the general public, choosing solitude over associating herself with those who would eagerly slit her throat or bet just when she would die. Friends were people she could count on one hand, and while she didn't seem the type to collect them she was indeed someone fiercely loyal. Intelligent, though not obviously so, in general the quiet type whom kept to herself.