My Maiden

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Lillian Gray, Jul 10, 2014.

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  1. My Maiden
    A one x one between Lillian Gray and Guardian101

    A Death Maiden, this is the title given to those who can commune with the dead. Men also carry the title, as a Reaper. Maidens and Reapers are taboo to speak with outside of their work, seen as ill omens and bad luck. This leaves our Maiden lonely, and constantly pestered by angry spirits. All except one. This spirit, she enjoys his presence, but love between the dead and the living is not seen as a healthy thing.

    War is raging, but this is not the story at hand. A Maiden is called to bring peace to the battlefield as countless die, their spirits rising in anger for their Kings. It's during this time that one such spirit doesn't leave, he stays, but she's unsure what it will bring.​
  2. Clint Anderson

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    Age: 26
    Height: 6'3"
    Eye Color: Dark Brown
    Hair Color: Black

    Personality: A stern and disciplined man. His humor is good when the mood is right, but typically he is a serious individual.

    Bio/History: Clint was born and raised in the woods outside the King's Lands. There, he was able to make it on his own with his parents up until they died. He moved closer to the city and built his home on the borderlands. Eventually, he married at the age of 22, and was happy with his new life in his home outside the city walls. Although the girl was chosen by his parents before they died, they did their best to get along. When the war started, his wife announced she was pregnant, but it only went downhill from there.

    When war broke out, he was taken to one side. King Lorrence. He was recruited as a soldier, something he never wanted to be. His home was too close on the borderlands and was ransacked by the opposing King. Clint died on the field, never able to forget about the men who murdered his love.

    The man doesn't even know he's dead.
  3. It felt cold.

    For one breathless moment the world disappeared from his eyes and the light came blindingly forward until there was nothing left. To describe nothing, the emptiness which followed was an impossibility. He simply was and was not.

    His eyes were forced to open once more and he tried to inhale a cold breath, but nothing happened. When his lips moved and he forced his muscles to breathe, no air greeted him. Panic set in, the voices of the battlefield returned, his killer stood over his body like a hound with a fresh meal at its teeth. Eyes were glazed over with the victory. Clint Anderson was dead.

    The man rose, finding the motion was simple enough, but his limbs shifted through his own solid flesh, a corpse on the ground beneath him. Clint gasped in horror to discover his revenge had been in vain. His love was gone, and now he too had perished on the battlefield for a King who he'd never served.

    Soldiers around him fought and fell, their cries drowned out by the sudden realization of death, and there were others. Some only died, their souls at peace and rising to the sky, heaven or hell greeted them one way or another. The others were unfortunate enough to stay on the mortal plain, which meant he had to find a priest and fast. Or not. Clint still raged for revenge, and in an act of fury he poured himself into the man who'd killed him and pulled the life from him in a possession he'd never again pull off.

    So, they both fell, nothing more than a pawn in the King's game, but it wasn't enough.

    Clint would never be satisfied.​
  4. She could feel a damp chill in the air, as if something quite terrible had just taken place. But she knew this all happened, for a war was going on...and these kind of horrific signs were bound to happen as rage and death came to pass. Though she often wondered....was this all mighty war really worth the pain and suffering other's had to bear here around here? Juliana while walking around the village scanning the villager's passing by her.

    Again with the passing....never speaking a word, their eyes never even showing a sign of joy or happiness to see the like's of her. Oh the life of a Maiden was a good one, her life was taken care for. The king himself saw to that...but....everyone here, kept their distance's, as if Juliana had some kind of disease for which there was no cure. Days in and days out she would help whom she served but, many times she stay locked in her chamber crying herself to sleep...wishing the next day would be kinder then the one before.
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