Psychedelic's Invite Request
ROLEPLAY RESUME: Click to view Psychedelic's Roleplay Resume
MATURE RESUME: Click to view Psychedelic's Mature Resume
I AM LOOKING FOR...
Group Roleplays,
One on One Roleplays,
Mature Roleplays
GENRES I AM INTERESTED IN...
Fantasy,
Modern,
Scifi,
Romance,
Paranormal,
Horror,
Historical,
Anthro,
Steampunk,
Medieval,
Space Sagas,
Fanbased,
DnD,
Fairy Tale,
Grimdark,
Realistic,
High School,
Apocalyptic,
Aliens,
Mutants,
Super Hero,
Military,
Socializing,
Questing
OTHER GENRES AND THEMES I LIKE...
I'm game for pretty much anything
THINGS I -DON'T- LIKE IN ROLEPLAYS...
Just overly cliche characters. Of course, sometimes it's fun to do the whole weak little girl thing, just not too much of it.
CONTACT ME THROUGH...
Visitor Message, Private Message
MY USUAL ROLEPLAY POSTS WILL LOOK LIKE...
Peace was a noble ideal, perhaps the most noble of any goal, and yet it had been almost forgotten by the majority of beings in the world. Bloodshed had been rife for so long that the thought of it ending was not only absurd, it was terrifying to those who contemplated it. Any change now would undoubtedly shake any kingdom to its core, as no doubt those once employed to eviscerate the enemy would turn on eachother. And of course, there was the practical element - who would buy the surplus weaponry if no great army was needed? It was a sad truth that many merchants and craftsmen had been borne to higher places by this hell of a war.
One of the few with a gentle enough soul to still wish for an end to the violence, was one Peter Brigonna. Although he was undoubtedly an accomplished warrior, having been ruthlessly trained since he was old enough to waddle along with a wooden stick clutched in podgy fingers, Peter was not overly keen to stain his heart with the blood of those killed for the heinous crime of being a little different. It was a progressive standpoint, perhaps born out of weakness, or else compassion. It was difficult to say which, particularly when any of these vague feelings were always kept hidden. There was also the issue of the strong fear the teenage prince felt. Although he doubted all this people were completely evil, he was still petrified of them, having had this emotion indoctrinated into him since birth. It was this fear that allowed him to fell other men on the battlefield, adrenaline keeping him from too much self doubt - at least until later on.
At only just seventeen, Peter was barely a man, though he did his level best to please his father - a man not known for his tolerance. It was as a result of the kings ruthless attitude towards the war -as well as his son - that Peter had been hurled into battle (even if it was under the protection of a guard, and well towards the rear of the field) from the day of his thirteenth birthday. So far he had escaped death, although he did bear a few significant scars, most notably a deep welt that spanned from shoulder to opposite hip, the tight knot of tissue often causing significant discomfort when the young man was required to duck and dive in the full flow of battle.
With the stalemate of the war showing no signs of breaking any time soon, the prince was once again out to battle the unnatural foes that were the Larigoths. The days death toll was high, as usual, and the fighting had been going on for some hours now. It was now a case of picking through the dead bodies, charging at the spell casters in a rage, rather than holding to any particular formation. Some generals still signalled orders, but few were heeded. The battalion to which the young prince belonged were following orders, lurking in the woodland in wait of deserters. Whether they belonged to the Acaedian army, or the Larigoths - there were to be no survivors.
This assignment did not fit well with the honest hearted prince, who believed that anything as grisly as war should at least be fought on open terms. That was why Peter situated himself on the end of the line, hoping that no one would pass him this far out. Despite his doubt over this, equally green eyes surveyed the forest, while he also listened out for any telltale noises. Had it not been for the vibrant red of his tunic - which happened to be decorated with a noble eagle splayed over the chest - the slightly mucky individual might have been well camouflaged in his surroundings. Olive toned skin was covered with fine (but grubby) chainmail armour, though he was not wearing a helmet today - he needed his peripheral vision in these surroundings.
Peter was beginning to wonder if he would get away with spilling no blood today, when a ghost of a noise reached him. It was faint, perhaps just a lost animal, but it still warranted investigation. With a sigh, the muscled fellow readied his weapon - a finely crafted claymore fitted with a jeweled pommel. It was unnecessarily flashy, of course, but a father would always dote on his son. At the moment Peter was of an average height and build, though it was likely that within the next year or so he would have another growth spurt, and become a lithely built man, not exactly slender, but certainly escaping the bulk which would prevent him displaying the agile prowess that he now enjoyed.
The prince walked slowly, attempting to be stealthy, and not doing too badly at it. As he advanced, the familiar noise of laboured breathing was confirmed, and he nervously wrung his hands around the swords grip, knowing what he had to do. His scruffy hair fell into his eyes, which was hardly ideal in this situation, but cutting it properly was just too much of a hassle. The jagged locks were actually a dark brown, though in this light the difference between that and black was pretty much non existent.
Now, after a time, the source of the sounds became visible. Definitely a Larigoth, certainly not an innocent little deer. What a shame. As Peter approached from behind, his steps as quiet as was humanly possible, his heart beat faster, nerves rising. He had never killed a man out of the heat of battle, and didn't really want to start now. However, this didn't stop him attempting to make his father proud. Given the difficult terrain, Peter decided on abandoning the claymore, in favour of a pair of cruelly formed jagged daggers. They were designed much like a barbed arrow, removal would only cause more damage. The young prince hurled one of these weapons at the exposed arm of this potentially unaware adversary. It wasn't a very well calculated throw, and Peter knew it, he couldn't really stomach this dirty fighting malarky.