Post by puppet on Apr 6, 2007 15:34:30 GMT -5
Ressurection is for those that didn't get it right the first time...
Name: Puppet. He’s never spoken his real name, for he feels he’s merely a puppet in society. Nothing more, nothing less.
Age: He guesses he’s around 19, but he was never sure.
Rank in Society: A slave. A mere slave. He’s a puppet for others needs.
Reason For Being at Cashel Castle: He’d lived there for as long as he could remember, but.. that wasn’t really all that great. Everything up until five years ago was black in his mind, he had no memory of his earlier life, and just remembered one day waking up in the slave quarters of this castle.
Appearance: Puppet isn’t small, but nor is he big. He’s just… normal. Though… his body type is quite lithe, and when he has no shirt to cover himself, a few ribs can be made out with no problem. He’s not equipped with large, bulging muscles, and never planned on getting them. What was the point? So he could look scary and get himself into fights? Yeah, right.
Fine strands of white hair grew from his scalp, falling down over his head and ending a bit past his ears, a few random strands usually falling into his eyes. It was all a pure white, looking untouched, all except for a small patch of red towards the front. It wasn’t the work of dye, oh no, perfectly natural, and it seemed to always puzzle many. Of course, why was it so interesting? There were werewolves wandering the castle, vampires too, and he didn’t know what else. He didn’t want to know what else.
Brilliant green eyes were curtained by thick, long eyelashes, usually directed towards the ground out of respect for those superior than him. The lids were coated in a red shadow carefully, pale white skin contrasting against it brightly. Of course, there was that slight peachy tint to let you know he was alive.
A pair of pure white wings sprouted from his back, the end feathers a deep red. Though, no one knew this, as he knew how to make them disappear, as if they were never there. Many times had he considered just cutting them off in an attempt to be like others, but he ignored that urge. For some reason he was too emotionally [[and physically]] attached to the appendages.
Personality: Despite his outer demeanor, Puppet wasn’t always quiet. He did have his own opinion, and usually wasn’t afraid to speak it to anyone. If someone had the audacity to say something he didn’t agree with, he would speak his mind, though keep a rather submissive look to him.
He was sometimes fidgety, especially when he became nervous. When it came to strangers, he’d become shy. Though, once he allowed himself to actually trust someone, he’d be a bit more open, speaking up now and then.
Though, why did it matter if people liked him or not? He was a puppet, nothing more. He truly wasn’t something needed in this world, just a tool for other people to enjoy.
Puppet never did have a very high confidence in himself, as he never did know who he truly was… or even what he truly was. Did it matter for a puppet to know these things? All he needed to know what how to make others happy, really. He, himself, didn’t matter.
History: As stated before, nothing before five years ago did the young man remember.
Though… there was that strange dream he had. That one dream that he had every night. The one where no one cared to help him when it was in need. He was merely a puppet… no one needed him.
”Mother! Mother!” The cries of a young boy sounded into the empty house, bouncing off the walls with no reply. It was dark, and the silence was deafening. “Mother! Where are you?! Mother! Please!” The boy continued through the house, a hand-made axe grip tightly in his small hands. He stepped on a loose floor board, nearly falling on his behind as it moaned loudly, threatening to give with even his small weight on it.
The boy quickly moved on, reaching out with the axe and pushing open the door to his mother and father’s bedroom. His scream shattered the still night, and the young, black haired boy fell to the ground in terror.
On the wall, his mother hung. Her neck secured in a noose, and her body severed from the head and pinned up about five feet over on the wall. Instead, his fathers body was where his mothers should have been, and his head over where his mothers head used to be. Clothes were shredded from their bodies, pieces all over the floor and blood decorating the floor, walls, and bed like it was paint.
In his fear he failed to notice the figure creeping from their closet, steadily approaching him.
“So, where have you been, little brother?” That voice… it was so familiar. The boy looked up, green eyes widening at who it was. This boy seemed to know who it was. Yet… Puppet did not. It was obviously the brother, but… who was it?
The boy began to shake his head, gasps leaving his mouth in an attempt to speak as he began to back up. Eyes were wide in terror, tears streaming from them and staining his cheeks. The other slowly walked towards him, grinning sadistically.
The boy stood, darting away through the winding hallway of his house. Those steady foot steps didn’t slow down nor speed up. They were all too cocky.
He got out of the house, stepping into his village and letting out an ear piercing cry for help. People turned lamps on, all peeking out from their window in curiosity as to what all the racket was. They would witness the taller, and obviously older, man wrap his fingers around the boys neck from behind, but no one came to help. They only watched as the young boy was ruthlessly murdered, his limbs all torn from his body slowly. Eyes were gouged out. Organs were ripped from his body.
All of this happened under the careful watch of the people that the boy knew oh-so well, and with the smiling and laughter of his murderer.
Puppet never knew who either of them were. For all he knew, he could be one of them. Either of them.
Or, it could just be some sick dream of his…
Roleplay Sample:
"P-pet?" She was astonished at this guys nerve to be calling her pet, did he even know her name?
What was she thinking?! Of course he did, he did own her now, after all, and it would be quite strange to be unaware of her name. Asking his property their name was quite humiliating, if you ask her. Shaking these thoughts from her head, she let out an annoyed sigh as she attempted to wriggle from the man holding her. He was no doubt older than her. "I'm..." She swallowed, gathering a good bit of her courage. It didn't take much to summon it, but she didn't know this mans boundries yet... What if he was the type to beat people due to insolence? Guess she'd have to find out then.
"I'm not a pet. Do not treat me as such." Vampyr spat, her eyes narrowing at the dark haired man before her. There was also that one thing about her; she changed from quiet and scared to disrespectful quickly. Much like a cat would when they felt threatened, and she really did feel threatened. Well, her dignity did at least.
No reply was given immediately, but Zombie did raise his hand threateningly before roughly smacking the young girl, a scowl twisting upon his face at her attitude. She would not disobey him, and he would teach her that from the very beginning. "Listen here, Vampyr. You belong to me now, and you will listen to me. You will not talk back, to you will correct me, and you will not defy my orders. In a way, I am your master, and you my pet. I expect you learn this, or I will take to harsher punishments." He stated, his voice all too calm and collected for her taste. He seemed to take this all well, as if he had been expecting this to happen.
"Not to mention, you are a pet. My pet. At least until I tire of you..." This caused the small girls face to drain of color, her eyes widening in fear. Would he kill her, or what? She wasn't too keen on finding out, and quickly settled in his lap, allowing him to just hold her there without resistance.
That is... until the car jerked again to a stop and she hissed, leaping from his arms angrilly. Her pupils dilated again, her breath beginning to get heavy.
"Calm down." The voice was strict, annoyed, and... amused? "We are here, at my home. Be good." Zombie reached out as the door opened, once more gripping her upper arm in a vice-like grip, causing another mewl from her lips. After that one punishment she seemed to immdediately get the point and quite down, once more becoming that declawed kitten she was when she first came down.
He knew there would be more disobediance in the future, but for now she was okay. The knowledge of her future punishments sent a spark through his body, and he felt arousal claiming him so soon. Something about dominating the fragile looking creature he was tightly holding was just so... delicious. His grip tightened subconsciously, and she winced but decided not to try and get him to let up on his hold. She knew he wouldn't, anyway.
Age: He guesses he’s around 19, but he was never sure.
Rank in Society: A slave. A mere slave. He’s a puppet for others needs.
Reason For Being at Cashel Castle: He’d lived there for as long as he could remember, but.. that wasn’t really all that great. Everything up until five years ago was black in his mind, he had no memory of his earlier life, and just remembered one day waking up in the slave quarters of this castle.
Appearance: Puppet isn’t small, but nor is he big. He’s just… normal. Though… his body type is quite lithe, and when he has no shirt to cover himself, a few ribs can be made out with no problem. He’s not equipped with large, bulging muscles, and never planned on getting them. What was the point? So he could look scary and get himself into fights? Yeah, right.
Fine strands of white hair grew from his scalp, falling down over his head and ending a bit past his ears, a few random strands usually falling into his eyes. It was all a pure white, looking untouched, all except for a small patch of red towards the front. It wasn’t the work of dye, oh no, perfectly natural, and it seemed to always puzzle many. Of course, why was it so interesting? There were werewolves wandering the castle, vampires too, and he didn’t know what else. He didn’t want to know what else.
Brilliant green eyes were curtained by thick, long eyelashes, usually directed towards the ground out of respect for those superior than him. The lids were coated in a red shadow carefully, pale white skin contrasting against it brightly. Of course, there was that slight peachy tint to let you know he was alive.
A pair of pure white wings sprouted from his back, the end feathers a deep red. Though, no one knew this, as he knew how to make them disappear, as if they were never there. Many times had he considered just cutting them off in an attempt to be like others, but he ignored that urge. For some reason he was too emotionally [[and physically]] attached to the appendages.
Personality: Despite his outer demeanor, Puppet wasn’t always quiet. He did have his own opinion, and usually wasn’t afraid to speak it to anyone. If someone had the audacity to say something he didn’t agree with, he would speak his mind, though keep a rather submissive look to him.
He was sometimes fidgety, especially when he became nervous. When it came to strangers, he’d become shy. Though, once he allowed himself to actually trust someone, he’d be a bit more open, speaking up now and then.
Though, why did it matter if people liked him or not? He was a puppet, nothing more. He truly wasn’t something needed in this world, just a tool for other people to enjoy.
Puppet never did have a very high confidence in himself, as he never did know who he truly was… or even what he truly was. Did it matter for a puppet to know these things? All he needed to know what how to make others happy, really. He, himself, didn’t matter.
History: As stated before, nothing before five years ago did the young man remember.
Though… there was that strange dream he had. That one dream that he had every night. The one where no one cared to help him when it was in need. He was merely a puppet… no one needed him.
”Mother! Mother!” The cries of a young boy sounded into the empty house, bouncing off the walls with no reply. It was dark, and the silence was deafening. “Mother! Where are you?! Mother! Please!” The boy continued through the house, a hand-made axe grip tightly in his small hands. He stepped on a loose floor board, nearly falling on his behind as it moaned loudly, threatening to give with even his small weight on it.
The boy quickly moved on, reaching out with the axe and pushing open the door to his mother and father’s bedroom. His scream shattered the still night, and the young, black haired boy fell to the ground in terror.
On the wall, his mother hung. Her neck secured in a noose, and her body severed from the head and pinned up about five feet over on the wall. Instead, his fathers body was where his mothers should have been, and his head over where his mothers head used to be. Clothes were shredded from their bodies, pieces all over the floor and blood decorating the floor, walls, and bed like it was paint.
In his fear he failed to notice the figure creeping from their closet, steadily approaching him.
“So, where have you been, little brother?” That voice… it was so familiar. The boy looked up, green eyes widening at who it was. This boy seemed to know who it was. Yet… Puppet did not. It was obviously the brother, but… who was it?
The boy began to shake his head, gasps leaving his mouth in an attempt to speak as he began to back up. Eyes were wide in terror, tears streaming from them and staining his cheeks. The other slowly walked towards him, grinning sadistically.
The boy stood, darting away through the winding hallway of his house. Those steady foot steps didn’t slow down nor speed up. They were all too cocky.
He got out of the house, stepping into his village and letting out an ear piercing cry for help. People turned lamps on, all peeking out from their window in curiosity as to what all the racket was. They would witness the taller, and obviously older, man wrap his fingers around the boys neck from behind, but no one came to help. They only watched as the young boy was ruthlessly murdered, his limbs all torn from his body slowly. Eyes were gouged out. Organs were ripped from his body.
All of this happened under the careful watch of the people that the boy knew oh-so well, and with the smiling and laughter of his murderer.
Puppet never knew who either of them were. For all he knew, he could be one of them. Either of them.
Or, it could just be some sick dream of his…
Roleplay Sample:
"P-pet?" She was astonished at this guys nerve to be calling her pet, did he even know her name?
What was she thinking?! Of course he did, he did own her now, after all, and it would be quite strange to be unaware of her name. Asking his property their name was quite humiliating, if you ask her. Shaking these thoughts from her head, she let out an annoyed sigh as she attempted to wriggle from the man holding her. He was no doubt older than her. "I'm..." She swallowed, gathering a good bit of her courage. It didn't take much to summon it, but she didn't know this mans boundries yet... What if he was the type to beat people due to insolence? Guess she'd have to find out then.
"I'm not a pet. Do not treat me as such." Vampyr spat, her eyes narrowing at the dark haired man before her. There was also that one thing about her; she changed from quiet and scared to disrespectful quickly. Much like a cat would when they felt threatened, and she really did feel threatened. Well, her dignity did at least.
No reply was given immediately, but Zombie did raise his hand threateningly before roughly smacking the young girl, a scowl twisting upon his face at her attitude. She would not disobey him, and he would teach her that from the very beginning. "Listen here, Vampyr. You belong to me now, and you will listen to me. You will not talk back, to you will correct me, and you will not defy my orders. In a way, I am your master, and you my pet. I expect you learn this, or I will take to harsher punishments." He stated, his voice all too calm and collected for her taste. He seemed to take this all well, as if he had been expecting this to happen.
"Not to mention, you are a pet. My pet. At least until I tire of you..." This caused the small girls face to drain of color, her eyes widening in fear. Would he kill her, or what? She wasn't too keen on finding out, and quickly settled in his lap, allowing him to just hold her there without resistance.
That is... until the car jerked again to a stop and she hissed, leaping from his arms angrilly. Her pupils dilated again, her breath beginning to get heavy.
"Calm down." The voice was strict, annoyed, and... amused? "We are here, at my home. Be good." Zombie reached out as the door opened, once more gripping her upper arm in a vice-like grip, causing another mewl from her lips. After that one punishment she seemed to immdediately get the point and quite down, once more becoming that declawed kitten she was when she first came down.
He knew there would be more disobediance in the future, but for now she was okay. The knowledge of her future punishments sent a spark through his body, and he felt arousal claiming him so soon. Something about dominating the fragile looking creature he was tightly holding was just so... delicious. His grip tightened subconsciously, and she winced but decided not to try and get him to let up on his hold. She knew he wouldn't, anyway.
