The Roleplay School: Verdana's class

[Verdana]

Okay, fab. I'll try post something today or tomorrow.

[Verdana]

When Dorp was a young calf, his matriarch used to tell him and the rest of the youngsters stories. They were not fanciful fairy stories, for rhinoceri are not blessed with a heightened sense of imagination. What they do have in plentiful supply is memory and a stubborn refusal to let any knowledge go unheeded. So, the tales that Dorp heard were of the Armoured Tribes of long ago, ones who wandered across the vast Snow belt in search of new foraging grounds; noble warriors who took down whole armies of warlocks and wrecats, the nemeses of the rhino. Tales of extraordinary feats that Dorp took as given for, as has been mentioned before, rhinos are not a very imaginative bunch. Rhinos, it seems to the bull, thrived everywhere. Deserts, plains, mountains...

And forests. Though Dorp for the life of himself can't figure out how his ancestors managed the latter.

He's having no small amount of difficulty negotiating the thick foliage. Crawling vines and ground-dwelling shrubs pull at his heavy feet, like a teeming mass of ants slowly biting a spider into submission. The gold leaf on his once-proud nails is buried in a layer of soft, yielding loam. The lack of light and clarity turns the city of trees into a melding mass of greens and browns before the young male's weak eyes. Branches slash at his face, causing more annoyance than pain but getting in the way nonetheless. He's having no fun in the forest. None whatsoever. However, when he starts to debate going back to the valley, he recalls in vivid detail the crowding, the fear around him, the violent anticipation. He shudders at the thought. At least, he thinks wryly, the trees are neither scared of him nor want his armour for a souvenir.

As he walks along, an irregularity hits the plodding behemoth's sharp, conical ears. Something is out of place in the rhythms around him. Step, crunch, drag. Small sounds that fall into place with his step, with the sigh and shrug of the forest. But there's a nouse that doesn't. Barely detectable, it is, but with a lack of anything else to think about he picks it up. A whisking swish. Like a breeze. If there were a breeze in the still, looming maze of trees. Suspicion mounts in the creature's mind. His nostrils flare, trying to pick up a scent. Nothing. He shakes it off as paranoia. Although... There's a... A crispness in the air. Like flames without smoke, if such a thing ever existed. It bothers him. As he crunches on, he becomes more and more certain that something isn't right.

Something is following him.

He stops in his tracks, snorting. He looks left, right, ponderously swivelling his heavy, horned head to blearily inspect every inch of the forest. He can't see a thing. Can't hear it. He's sure it's there. He just can't detect it, and that frustrates him to no end. He turns a full circle, ears twitching like radar disks, nostrils wide to receive any irregularity. He finds nothing. No way to fo forward. No idea of how to proceed. He is not frightened. The rhinoceri of the Plains have no capacity for fear. It's undeniable, though, that when he proceeds, there's an extra stiffness to his gait, a peculiar tip to his head-carriage as he listens out for his unseen follower.

[⚜ Estivel]

{{Oops |D
I'm usually good with the 'its' and it's', but I guess I was having an off-day. I feel happier about this post length-wise, but quality-wise it probably stinks. Sorry :C}}

Shoot.
Just as the rhinoserious below decided to stop for a glance around, Damir happened to turn his head to the side. This small movement normally would not have done much, but at the moment the male phoenix was pushing his wings back against the air into a pace that was more brisk than his norm. If he had not caught the sight of the dark mass through his peripheral vision, he would have continued to fly past, and obviously then be in the open.
At what seemed to be the last moment, Damir flipped his wings to face forward, upsetting more than a few leaves in the process.
Shootshootshoot.
Panic that the creature would see him started to overshadow the past anger, until he had to land on a nearby branch lest he fall down. All bids were born, just as any other creature, with a fight or flight instinct, yet others had another. The possum, as most knew, would play dead if it was scared. While he doubted it was hereditary (his brother certainly did not have it while he still lived), Damir did have a slightly similar issue. His wings 'locked', so to speak, so long as the burst of adrenaline ran through his veins.
In truth, Damir was easily scared.
After all, who wouldn't be after watching their only sibling trampled beneath the hooves of the pegasi? After that experience Damir had played it safe; the thought of being in pain did not appeal to him as it did to some, and so the rest of his life he had spent simply learning stories of the world as they knew it. Some would call him a 'scholar', though they did not realize it was only out of fear that he had taken this occupation in the Phoenix world.

So even now Damir felt scared, watching the creature lumber forward once more with a stiffness that didn't appear to be there before. Was it just his paranoia kicking in? Eyes squinted slightly, furrowing the feathers on his eye ridge. No, something was wrong. Perhaps the stop only a moment ago was because he had found him out? More questions attacked him, all crying out to be answered, yet none of them could be until the bird made a move.
His wings stretched out, ruffling the leaves about him that had managed to stay on from before, and hopped off the branch. Bright wings fought to angle correctly as they beat against the wind instead of slicing through it, and before he knew it, Damir was gliding a mere four feet above the ground. Instinctively he opened his beak, and then noticed the distance between the two mammals had shrunk. Twenty feet in front of him was the snorting beast, clad in shining armor that reflected his own red hue. The blurry image of crimson slowly grew as he continued his glide, yet nothing changed in him except for his widening eyes and the one foot that he brought closer to his chest, enough to wrap around the glass flask that was pressed into his feathers.

||Wrath||

[major tom]

The rodent couldn't get away from her this time. She would not allow it.

With a not-so-subtle rock of her hips, which were raised high in the air, Gale tensed her muscles and prepared to leap. The oblivious shrew was snuffling about a mere tail-length before her. It was clueless as to the impending doom that awaited it. Its life would be over in a pounce and a squeak, and she would finally have something to eat. Gale held her breath and forced that thought from her mind, praying that the mention of food wouldn't cause her stomach to growl even though she wasn't religious. Not this time.

Without a care in the world, the smaller animal casually started cleansing its whiskers, rising on its tiny hind legs in order to do so. Not that it would need them anymore. Gale, after what seemed like hours of careful, tense waiting, pushed off the ground towards her quarry, watching her descend upon the helpless creature as blood roared in her ears, blocking off any other sounds. Of course, inevitably, those sounds would have included those ever-so-frustrating noises of prey, and ultimately a meal, somehow impossibly escaping before a hungry cat can get its claws around it. When she failed to catch yet another prey animal, Gale wanted to shriek in rage and disbelief. The bobcat could not, however, for that would alert the remaining possible prey sources of her presence, and she could not afford that to happen . . . again. She had learned that lesson the hard way, Gale reflected bitterly, hunger clawing at her stomach lining as though they were trying to claw her open from the inside. She grimaced and shook her head unhappily, struggling to contain the cry of frustration that was bubbling in her throat.

Nineteen days. That was how long she had gone without a meal and counting. Gale didn't know how much longer she could keep this up for. It would only be a matter of time. . . The feline shivered from a chill that was never there, unable to finish the thought. She resented herself for the utter weakness she had displayed in the past few days. It was as though a few hunger pangs could transform her into a useless, weak kit. She hated the thought.

Gale was just about to continue her vain search for food when a noise startled her. Not too far away, what sounded like thunder was rumbling through the forest. No. That couldn't be right. A brief glance to the almost vividly blue skies ahead affirmed her disbelief and fueled her confusion. What . . . ? The former assassin swiveled her ears forward in the direction of where she had initially heard the noise. After a few seconds of careful listening, they detected thundering footsteps or, more accurately, hoof-beats. Some unknown, relatively distant being was currently plodding heavily west of Gale's location, yet the animal was alarmingly close for her to be comfortable. It was a few more moments until the scent hit her.

A strong, dense, musky smell flooded the bobcat's nostrils, invading and overwhelming her sense of smell so unexpectedly that she nearly unleashed a surprised yowl. Her bright golden-yellow eyes flitted back and forth as she analyzed the thick forest and foliage that surrounded her. As repulsed and scared she was of the new threat, Gale was also intrigued as to the source of this unfamiliar scent; she was curious about the animal that produced it, for she had never experienced anything quite like it before. Cautious but explorative, the starving cat strode forward a few steps until yet another scent greeted her. It was a mystery as well, and Gale paused nary a moment to pad onward through the dim forest. Her decision was made.

It took a mere four minutes for the feline to slink to a small clearing where a strange, simultaneously chilling and exciting scene played itself out before her. Gale came to a gradual halt while she gazed silently through a tiny space in the sweet-smelling bushes she had settled in; she hoped they would conceal her scent as much as possible, for she did not wish to join the formidable creature in the clearing. It was a gargantuan-sized beast that was at least forty times her size, she imagined, and it seemed to consist only of thick, gray, rough skin that strongly resembled plates and that huge, piercingly sharp horn that Gale couldn't seem to remove her stare from. She only did so when a streak of vibrant red and orange drew her gaze away. She flattened herself to the leaf-littered ground, her eyes widening as she attempted to track the flying thing. A story-constructed image entered her mind; it was of an almost mythological creature of "fictional" stories with what was said to have flames for feathers. . . Now riveted, Gale crept only an inch closer, peering at the formidable animals while she wondered what would happen next, nearly forgetting about her hunger completely.

[[Ehh. . . Could be better, but I'm somewhat satisfied that I was able to squeeze a post out at all. I'm pretty rusty with animals, and I've never done fantasy before, but I s'pose it'll have to do. . . Please excuse my absence. I have been so, so very busy lately, and free time is hard to come by.
Also, Gale won't always be like this. Hunger often changes people and their personalities. . .]]

[Verdana]

Estivel: Very nice! I'm already seeing an improvement in length and detail! Just some tips on word choice: Sometimes you use very formal words which don't make sense in context. For example: '...lest he plummet to his doom,' sounds more natural than 'lest he fall down'. The nice thing about roleplay is that it doesn't have to be formal. Try and keep in one style. It's a minor point, so please don't get too hung-up over it. The sentence, 'All bids were born, just as any other creature, with a fight or flight instinct, yet others had another' was a bit ambiguous, as were others in the post (if you can't see where, please tell me and I'll point it out to you). You may want to work a little on clarity.

The only other thing I'd suggest is to actually interact with Dorp, to prevent a dead end. Maybe call out to him. He's noticed you, now you have to go the distance to create some fun interaction. You are interacting, I can see that, but I'd suggest a little more, in case, in future, the person you're rping with isn't quite as perceptive.


Roseness: I really don't have much to say. You're as good as I am, if not better. The only things I can critique you on are very minor. I've picked up some instances of ambiguity, for example this phrase: 'Gale held her breath and forced that thought from her mind, praying that the mention of food wouldn't cause her stomach to growl even though she wasn't religious. Not this time.' What does the 'not this time' refer to? Her rumbling stomach, or her religion? Another tiny point I want to address is that of word-choice. Your adjectives are strong, but at times a little bit off. For example, 'oblivious' might be a better word than 'clueless' in the phrase: 'It was clueless as to the impending doom that awaited it.' And also 'cleaning' instead of 'cleansing'. Sometimes simpler is better. There are several examples of very slight... I can't think of the word... Discrepancies in word use. However, your writing style is strong and descriptive, and I can't find much out of the area of style (which is personal anyway, so please ignore this if you want to) to critique.

[Verdana]

Sorry about the delay. I'll be posting very soon. I've just been incredibly busy.

[Verdana]

I reckon you're both past novice, don't you? How would you like to be sent for your examination?

[⚜ Estivel]

I reckon you're both past novice, don't you? How would you like to be sent for your examination?

I'm good with that ^^

||Wrath||

[Verdana]

Great! I'll message the school now to arrange exams.

[major tom]

I reckon you're both past novice, don't you? How would you like to be sent for your examination?

Sounds great to me. n.n