In the spirit of Lady C, I've decided I will be hosting my own weekly* roleplay prompts, designed to give you a way to flesh out your character and explore their minds/personalities in ways that you may previously have not. (Grammar fail.)
*Give or take a day
So here's my first RP prompt, in all it's interesting glory. Good luck, and I hope this sparks some creativity!
Quote:
Has your character ever done anything that went against their character, reputation, beliefs or attitude? Or all of those at once?
Opening night at St. Martial's newly-refurbished Sonata Hall. The show for the night was the complete works of Carmina Burana, featuring the talent of Thomas Hampson as the Baritone. Tickets for the event were several hundred dollars apiece. The show was on the bring of selling out, with almost all of Arachnos' more eclectic higher-ups making appearances, with the exception of Black Scorpion and Mako. In the balcony, the cadre of Lord Recluse, Ghost Widow and Scirocco would sit, though they had yet to arrive. While waiting for the usher, several Arbiters had speculated that they would not show; their predictions would later prove correct, much to the dismay of the audience.
Outside, a cement-cracking thud was heard. Heavy footfalls accompanied by the unmistakable sound of air buffeted by strong wings made the announcement of his arrival. Nalrok Ath'Zim, the one and only. The entire line scattered to either side of his path, staring cautiously, nervously.
"Why is he here?"
"What would he be doing at an opera?"
"We're going to die, Frank! I told you we should have stayed home!"
"Damn, not my luck."
The murmurs and mutterings never ceased as he calmly walked to the ticket booth. The attendant was whiter than the bones of death himself, swallowing hard and trembling like a small dog in cold weather. The demon lord spoke two simple, rumbling, guard-shattering words to the small man behind the glass.
"One, please."
The patrons of Sonata Hall fell silent. Curious whispers slithered between persons, and the air near the set of twin entrances shifted from fear to tense, confused buzzing. The attendant ceased his trembling long enough to pull a single ticket and hand it to the behemoth entity before him. Gingerly, delicately, almost sophisticatedly, Nalrok plucked the ticket from the shaking hand that had presented it to him.
"F-f-f-f-f-f-four fifty, s-s-sir," the attendant, who's eyes went wide as the demon lord handed him a tightly packed wad of money.
"There is six hundred there. Do with the extra what you will. Thank you--" Nalrok said as he leaned in, the glowing orbs that were his eyes narrowing for a moment as he examined the attendant's nametag, "--Gerald. I've been looking forward to this for quite some time. Do try to calm the gathering behind me; they seem to think their lives are about to end. I cannot imagine why." And with that, Nalrok's gargantuan frame strode eagerly into Sonata Hall.
The same fearful hush that gripped the line of people outside gripped the audience as Nalrok made his way to his seat. Third row, seat 40, he read in his mind as he stared at the ticket. Front and center, for the most part. He wondered if that seat was actually vacant or if Gerald had given it to him in hopes that his life would be spared. Scooting sideways to his seat in the same awkward way every living being who'd ever entered a theater had done before him, Nalrok found seat 40 and sat in it, the poor piece of furniture creaking under his immense weight. Surprisingly, he had ample room to shift around. Not surprisingly, he was suddenly the only one sitting in the third row. He rolled his eyes, despite the fact that actually rolling them produced no different a visual than if he kept them in place. Was it unheard of that a being such as himself would enjoy opera, especially when he had only hear bits and pieces of Carmina Burana?
The orchestra filed in silently, taking their seats and preparing for the performance. The conductor took his place at the podium, turning to bow to the audience. Instead, he shrieked like a frightened infant when he saw Nalrok's two eyes smoldering back at him from the third row.
"For the love of all that is considered holy," Nalrok said without hesitance. "I am a guest here, conductor. Do not let my presence here impede your performance." The audience murmured for a few seconds, firmly disbelieving that this was somehow Night Out for Nalrok.
"Y-yes! Yes," the conductor stammered. "Ladies and gentlemen, villains and vigilantes, humans and demons--" He paused, analyzing the crowd, "--demon, tonight we present a true masterpiece by Carl Orff, the timeless Carmina Burana, with no movements excepted. The performance will be in full, with the Baritone Thomas Hampson."
The audience, Nalrok included, clapped pleasantly. Hampson appeared from back stage, almost jumping out of his tuxedo when he saw Nalrok. Nalrok held up a hand and made the universal "get on with it" gesture. With a slight widening of his eyes and a cleansing of his throat, Hampson began, accompanied by the orchestra and the choir.
For almost two hours the entire congregation sat, the music of Carmina Burana flowing through Sonata Hall. Each movement led seamlessly into the next, painting a picture with sound and presenting it to some of the most interesting people in the Rogue Isles. When the music finished and the lights dimmed, the first person to stand was Nalrok. He stood swiftly, clapping loudly, his wings flaring and sending the sheet music for the flute and oboe section spiraling through the air. The rest of the audience followed swiftly, not out of fear but out of appreciation of the performance.
---
"I couldn't believe that was him out there," Hampson said. "Thought I was going to die every time I was on stage."
"I know. I wonder why he came. Did he really--"
The door to the dressing room opened an inch.
A deep, rumbling voice inquired calmly, "May I come in?"
"Ye-yes! Yes of course," Hampson said, startled.
Nalrok entered the dressing room and held out a metal plated hand. "Thank you for your performance tonight. My experiences with the music of this genre are unfortunately few and far between, so I can tell you with all the honesty I carry that you have captured the art of opera and done so masterfully."
Relaxing, Hampson shook his hand. "Well... thank you. I'm glad I could take you on the journey written by Mr. Orff. For the entire performance I thought you were here to destroy Sonata Hall, but... I guess you were here for art, and I'm surprised by that."
"I have lived for countless centuries, and I have seen my share of the arts. Keeping opera alive is a difficult task. I do hope you'll return to the Isles so I can attend another of your performances." Nalrok backed up two steps and began to exit.
"I think I will. Nalrok, correct? Ath... Ath..."
"Ath'Zim, Mr. Hampson."
"Ath'Zim. I'll come back when I can, then."
Nalrok left Sonata Hall silently, opening his wings in preparation to fly.
SKREEEEEEEEEECH, HOOOOOOOOOONK!
He looked down and to his left, a small convertible with a Family Consiglier at the wheel honking at him furiously. With no words, not even a sound, he picked the vehicle up and folded it in half. The clump of metal hit the ground with a thunk, a stream of blood leaking along the pavement and into a sewer as the demon lord thrashed upward, spiraling through the evening sky.
((This is a great idea, and I am glad someone is continuing it. I will post something once I no longer have the plague.
Keep up the good work. I enjoyed the story, now back to bed and more meds. ))
In the spirit of Lady C, I've decided I will be hosting my own weekly* roleplay prompts, designed to give you a way to flesh out your character and explore their minds/personalities in ways that you may previously have not. (Grammar fail.)
Quote:
Has your character ever done anything that went against their character, reputation, beliefs or attitude? Or all of those at once?
*Give or take a day
So here's my first RP prompt, in all it's interesting glory. Good luck, and I hope this sparks some creativity!
Opening night at St. Martial's newly-refurbished Sonata Hall. The show for the night was the complete works of Carmina Burana, featuring the talent of Thomas Hampson as the Baritone. Tickets for the event were several hundred dollars apiece. The show was on the bring of selling out, with almost all of Arachnos' more eclectic higher-ups making appearances, with the exception of Black Scorpion and Mako. In the balcony, the cadre of Lord Recluse, Ghost Widow and Scirocco would sit, though they had yet to arrive. While waiting for the usher, several Arbiters had speculated that they would not show; their predictions would later prove correct, much to the dismay of the audience.
Outside, a cement-cracking thud was heard. Heavy footfalls accompanied by the unmistakable sound of air buffeted by strong wings made the announcement of his arrival. Nalrok Ath'Zim, the one and only. The entire line scattered to either side of his path, staring cautiously, nervously.
"Why is he here?"
"What would he be doing at an opera?"
"We're going to die, Frank! I told you we should have stayed home!"
"Damn, not my luck."
The murmurs and mutterings never ceased as he calmly walked to the ticket booth. The attendant was whiter than the bones of death himself, swallowing hard and trembling like a small dog in cold weather. The demon lord spoke two simple, rumbling, guard-shattering words to the small man behind the glass.
"One, please."
The patrons of Sonata Hall fell silent. Curious whispers slithered between persons, and the air near the set of twin entrances shifted from fear to tense, confused buzzing. The attendant ceased his trembling long enough to pull a single ticket and hand it to the behemoth entity before him. Gingerly, delicately, almost sophisticatedly, Nalrok plucked the ticket from the shaking hand that had presented it to him.
"F-f-f-f-f-f-four fifty, s-s-sir," the attendant, who's eyes went wide as the demon lord handed him a tightly packed wad of money.
"There is six hundred there. Do with the extra what you will. Thank you--" Nalrok said as he leaned in, the glowing orbs that were his eyes narrowing for a moment as he examined the attendant's nametag, "--Gerald. I've been looking forward to this for quite some time. Do try to calm the gathering behind me; they seem to think their lives are about to end. I cannot imagine why." And with that, Nalrok's gargantuan frame strode eagerly into Sonata Hall.
The same fearful hush that gripped the line of people outside gripped the audience as Nalrok made his way to his seat. Third row, seat 40, he read in his mind as he stared at the ticket. Front and center, for the most part. He wondered if that seat was actually vacant or if Gerald had given it to him in hopes that his life would be spared. Scooting sideways to his seat in the same awkward way every living being who'd ever entered a theater had done before him, Nalrok found seat 40 and sat in it, the poor piece of furniture creaking under his immense weight. Surprisingly, he had ample room to shift around. Not surprisingly, he was suddenly the only one sitting in the third row. He rolled his eyes, despite the fact that actually rolling them produced no different a visual than if he kept them in place. Was it unheard of that a being such as himself would enjoy opera, especially when he had only hear bits and pieces of Carmina Burana?
The orchestra filed in silently, taking their seats and preparing for the performance. The conductor took his place at the podium, turning to bow to the audience. Instead, he shrieked like a frightened infant when he saw Nalrok's two eyes smoldering back at him from the third row.
"For the love of all that is considered holy," Nalrok said without hesitance. "I am a guest here, conductor. Do not let my presence here impede your performance." The audience murmured for a few seconds, firmly disbelieving that this was somehow Night Out for Nalrok.
"Y-yes! Yes," the conductor stammered. "Ladies and gentlemen, villains and vigilantes, humans and demons--" He paused, analyzing the crowd, "--demon, tonight we present a true masterpiece by Carl Orff, the timeless Carmina Burana, with no movements excepted. The performance will be in full, with the Baritone Thomas Hampson."
The audience, Nalrok included, clapped pleasantly. Hampson appeared from back stage, almost jumping out of his tuxedo when he saw Nalrok. Nalrok held up a hand and made the universal "get on with it" gesture. With a slight widening of his eyes and a cleansing of his throat, Hampson began, accompanied by the orchestra and the choir.
For almost two hours the entire congregation sat, the music of Carmina Burana flowing through Sonata Hall. Each movement led seamlessly into the next, painting a picture with sound and presenting it to some of the most interesting people in the Rogue Isles. When the music finished and the lights dimmed, the first person to stand was Nalrok. He stood swiftly, clapping loudly, his wings flaring and sending the sheet music for the flute and oboe section spiraling through the air. The rest of the audience followed swiftly, not out of fear but out of appreciation of the performance.
---
"I couldn't believe that was him out there," Hampson said. "Thought I was going to die every time I was on stage."
"I know. I wonder why he came. Did he really--"
The door to the dressing room opened an inch.
A deep, rumbling voice inquired calmly, "May I come in?"
"Ye-yes! Yes of course," Hampson said, startled.
Nalrok entered the dressing room and held out a metal plated hand. "Thank you for your performance tonight. My experiences with the music of this genre are unfortunately few and far between, so I can tell you with all the honesty I carry that you have captured the art of opera and done so masterfully."
Relaxing, Hampson shook his hand. "Well... thank you. I'm glad I could take you on the journey written by Mr. Orff. For the entire performance I thought you were here to destroy Sonata Hall, but... I guess you were here for art, and I'm surprised by that."
"I have lived for countless centuries, and I have seen my share of the arts. Keeping opera alive is a difficult task. I do hope you'll return to the Isles so I can attend another of your performances." Nalrok backed up two steps and began to exit.
"I think I will. Nalrok, correct? Ath... Ath..."
"Ath'Zim, Mr. Hampson."
"Ath'Zim. I'll come back when I can, then."
Nalrok left Sonata Hall silently, opening his wings in preparation to fly.
SKREEEEEEEEEECH, HOOOOOOOOOONK!
He looked down and to his left, a small convertible with a Family Consiglier at the wheel honking at him furiously. With no words, not even a sound, he picked the vehicle up and folded it in half. The clump of metal hit the ground with a thunk, a stream of blood leaking along the pavement and into a sewer as the demon lord thrashed upward, spiraling through the evening sky.
My guides:Dark Melee/Dark Armor/Soul Mastery, Illusion Control/Kinetics/Primal Forces Mastery, Electric Armor
"Dark Armor is a complete waste as a tanking set."