Mar 19, 2015
Alguien tiene deseos de rolear un verse medieval o por el estilo?
Realeza, caballeros, sirvientes, plebeyos
Tengo un caballero que necesita que le quiten el polvo y lo usen.
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Alguien tiene deseos de rolear un verse medieval o por el estilo?
Realeza, caballeros, sirvientes, plebeyos
Tengo un caballero que necesita que le quiten el polvo y lo usen.
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Medieval!Verse
Will sighed as he sat in his room, relaxing on his bed. He heard the door open and looked up to see who entered. "Who are you?" He was shirtless as he stood up and walked over to the other male. He had to be the new servant or something. Will had never seen the boy before and he was quite cute.
Going Bump in the Night
Gwen slipped out of her house, pulling her hood up to cover her face. Beneath her cloak she wore the same sort of clothing she wore when traveling: breeches tucked into leather boots, a long-sleeved shirt, and a leather vest. She also wore a sword belt with sword and scabbard in place on her hip, and there was a dagger hidden in a sheath on the inside of her boot. Beneath her sleeves on either wrist she had a leather holster and a wooden stake so she could easily slide the weapon into her hand during a fight. A thick leather collar fit around her throat to protect it, and her long hair was wound into a tight braid and pinned close to her scalp so it would not be easy to pull and use against her. She was careful to make sure there were no guards in sight, then crept through the shadows of the lower city.
There had been some strange deaths over the past fortnight, the victims drained of blood and with odd bite marks on their throats. To anyone well-versed in the supernatural, it was an obvious sign that there was a vampire in Camelot. It was Gwen's duty to keep the city safe from the creatures of the night, and if there was a vampire in Camelot, then she had to find it and kill it before it sired others.
She had barely gone two meters from her door when she heard footsteps behind her. She thought quickly. It was only one set of footsteps, so not the knights on patrol. Her vampire, maybe? Ready for anything, she whirled, making the pretense of reaching for her sword, but in reality, sliding a stake from its holster to her hand.
Who she saw, however, caught Gwen by surprise. "Arthur?"
Jan heard a faint sound, almost like crying in the night air. It was muffled and might just as well have been a trick of the wind, but even in his tired state, curiosity won him over. Blanket in hand, he crawled over to the next connected rooftop. There, curled up beside a chimney where two roofs met, lay Miss Kerr. As he drew closer, her sobs became more evident. In her sleep she seem so venerable and... cold. Jan took his blanket and lay it gently over her, before stepping away again.
Bronwyn woke immediately. Years of sleeping alone in London had made sure she slept lightly. The first thing she noticed was that she’d been crying… again. But the dream, she wasn’t surprised. The second thing she noticed was that somebody had just given her an extra blanket.
She shot up and looked around, tensing, ready to run if she had to. Then she saw Jan and sighed, putting a hand to her head. “You again.”
The Glow of the Gemstone, the Beat of the Heart || Medieval!Verse || Open
Castiel had been sent on a search - a mysterious gemstone that glowed in the touch of all worthy and burned the hand of all who tried to steal it. The King's orders had been peculiarly specific: the cutting of stone had to be a perfect spheroid, rounded exactly. Nevertheless, the Knight was back, riding in on his charcoal horse, the gem wrapped in a tissue in the saddlepack usually used for a water bottle. Dismounting, he reached up into the pocket, fingers searching for the oval object, but finding nothing but a ring and a leaf. ❝Dammit.❞
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Progress report:
Created Medieval!Verse page [here]
*panics* okay, writing pages now. What'd I get myself into?
Medieval Verse \\ Open
Bronwyn was busy picking out some new apples for herself. She rubbed one along her sleeve, waxing it for shine before looking it over with a critical eye. The morning was crisp, cool, the sun not quite creeping in to warm the shadows, and she couldn't help but shiver slightly.
Satisfied with that apple, she picked out another apple, and then paused - feeling a prickle on the back of her neck, as if someone were watching her. She whirled, and then demanded, "Can I help you?"