ᴀʀᴇɴᴅᴇʟʟᴇ ᴀᴋᴀᴅᴇᴍɪ ᴀᴠ ᴍᴀɢɪ ➸ advanced roleplay discussion

| ᴀʀᴇɴᴅᴇʟʟᴇ ᴀᴋᴀᴅᴇᴍɪ ᴀᴠ ᴍᴀɢɪ ᴹᵒᵈᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᴬᵖᵖᶫᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ |

◖ Name ◗ Just Bow....as in a bowtie.

◖ Writing Example ◗(view spoiler)[

Long ago there was a land where the moon shed off the only source of light. It shined as bright as the sun and sparkled just like it, too. In a place where all the make believe stories came true in the blink of an eye, held only the most unimaginable race. The Decorum was what they went by. Some may refer to them as being just like humans. Only the foolish Truncus could make such a mistake. The Decorum walked, whistled, whined, and winced just like them. Some Decorum were beautiful while others average, but non a sight that would be considered unpleasing to the naked eye. Snow fell in the rough edged mountain sides and sun beamed on the open fields of wheat. There was no beach or road, not even a formal town in sight. All were at peace, no wars were ever recorded. No person decided for the rest. Only one rule was set on the long ancient scroll created by the wisest Decorum in history:

Never set foot on the dimmed flaxen field.

No one actually knew what that meant. No one had a clue what or where the dimmed flaxen field even was. No Decorum has ever spotted anything but the usual landscape. Not a dimmed field was ever stumbled upon by these creatures. Only bright golden fields with roaming deer were ever seen. Most think it is a joke made up by the first Decorum. Therefor people did what they want. Rules were not needed, for everyone was pleasurable and rather content.

At the edge of an unnamed forest, where trees were beginning to fade away, was just another tawny grassland. A small structure with a roof of hay and walls of wood laid right in the corner of it. Only two people lived in that house placed only several feet from a rapidly rushing brook. At only age four a child slept alone upstairs in the white wooden loft. The transparent tinted light purple drapes were closed as Henna dreamed of receiving the blue rose promised by Cantara, or as everyone called her Tara. The young teenager, Tara, was out in the woods petting deer and picking strawberries to fill up her weaved basket meanwhile her sister slept into the early afternoon.

© вσω; 2015: All Rights Reserved

(hide spoiler)]

◖ Reason For Wanting of Moderatorship ◗ Who
doesn't want to be a Mod? Tell people what to do,
kick people out of groups, I mean how can it get
any better?

With all seriousness, I want to be a moderator of this group, not because
of the Mod Title ( well....), because I can't resist Role Playing, especially
in Role Plays that are created originally by the Head Mod. Being a Mod
in a Role Play also causes me to be more active in the group, because
when I am a moderator of a group I am always on the group more often
because I feel the need to make sure the group is staying lively and active.
It is a sad day when a group becomes dead, so I'd like to limit the number
of those groups. So the main reason I want to be a Moderator of this group
is because I believe I may be able to help control things, since I have a
some experience.

◖ Activity ◗ When I'm not at school and I'm done with homework I'm either
writing, reading, playing a very addictive purposeless app on my phone, or on Goodreads. So I'm pretty active. On weekends I'll be on very often. Okay, lets
talk reality. I throw my backpack to the ground, shun the binders, open the
laptop, and log in.

◖ Past Experience ◗
Oναℓιтн Acα∂єму
⊰ Tʜᴇ Tɪᴛᴀɴɪᴄ ⊱
D a n s e ❣ Sᴇᴍɪ-Aᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ Rᴏʟᴇ Pʟᴀʏ ❣
Rᴏʏᴀʟs ♛Aᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ Rᴏʟᴇ Pʟᴀʏ♛
♕ The ℛebellion ♔ ᵃᶰ ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶫᵉᵖᶫᵃʸ|.

◖ Time Zone ◗ Eastern Standard Time (EST)

[ M o d A p p l i c a n t ]
↳ Sarah

R e a s o n ⟶ Being a mod is fun and I enjoy it. Especially working with others. I like to help organize. Being a mod in a group always has me on my toes for new ideas and possibilities to add to plot and characters that can get involved with anyone in RP. I really love role playing, good story telling has always been a passion I've had and it's great to be able to contribute all I can to any group.

↳Past Experience ::
-- House of Cards 1.0 & 2.0
-- Arendelle 1.0

A c t i v i t y ⟶ Now that I'm back from the dead I'm as active as I was. My life has calmed down and I will be making characters and roleplaying again. I can essentially be on all through out my day. On either my phone or laptop I can check during school. In the morning and night I get on often, and even during work on my breaks. Friday night through Sunday I will be on as much as possible.

↳Time Zone :: Mountain Standard Time [MST]

W r i t t i n g E x a m p l e ⟶ (view spoiler)[ [The way to long Bio I got caught up writing for Thonnor a House of Cards Character.]
Within the dark years of history, before the war, all was not peaceful. The peace in the land was skewed. Trouble was brewing. In the land of Spades tyranny was at its finest as a ruthless King held the throne. He clutched onto his crown with an iron grip for years to many, with the death of his Queen the crave for power grew. He himself had taken that throne from his wretched father before him. It was a line to long for a rule of cruelty. As the King reined with greed his children grew kind and hard with age. All but one of the Kings posterity desired to stop the line of evil. The eldest, the crown prince, followed in the footsteps of his father and his father's father. As time carried on the crown prince became impatient for the crown just as his father once had. His siblings became suspicious and wary of him, unsure whether or not a similar fate would befall their father just as their grandfather.

All through their younger years, Thonnor and his siblings faced the true horror of their father. His cruelty with the people did not stop there. There was a lack of love and empathy in the King. His children were merely obligatory, there was no room in his heart for the little youngsters his wife once held dear. So the King would release his anger, tension, and pleasure out on them, in his eyes they had no other use. The throne would only be his, it was only his concern. Soon the sting of whip and knife haunted the hallways of the castle. It had once started for simple wrong doings but then the tortures would arise for no reason at all. As the ever more frequent abuses rose so did the degree of pain and torture. It would be mental and physical as Thonnor and his brother forced to watch their sister be taken or simply being marked with scars. Through it all Thonnor pulled through but unwilling to fightback and broken himself. While the scars and suffering made Thonnor compassionate and soft, his brother hardened. The pain only made Thonnor's brother bitter, and as he grew older he would defend himself and attack the King in return, until the King no longer drug him out of bed with a knife in hand.

Night after night, out of the darkness, Thonnor would wake in blood chilling screams of his or those of his sister. There would be the excruciating feeling of a knife slicing into his back. A ghost of searing pain. He would only wake to find blood covering his sheets and his tree lacerated. The sap would drip from the trunk just as it seeped through his cloths. There was a certain kind of pleasure the King lusted for when finding his pale bleeding son in the yard caring for only half the wounds that were inflicted. It left Thonnor scarred. The tree grew with him and it grew in an uncomfortable twisted way. To many onlookers it was the most beautiful tree with it's tangled branches, but it was the product of strain and loneliness. Beautiful bright green moss grew around the trunk and branches making it soft to the touch, but the moss was only a facade to hide the gnarled tough bark beneath.

For many years Thonnor and his sister would sneak out of the castle to run away from the darkest days. Every day they could they would go out and look at the world together exploring. Together they would roam the streets until the sound of frantic guards echoed through the allies. It was a race with the guards to get back to the palace without getting caught. If caught, their father was the first one to see them and the King had no mercy for broken rules. Thonnor would stand in front of his dear sister to take her blows. Thonnor couldn't watch his baby sister be hurt.

Years past and the three children grew into adulthood; one cold and dark, two hopeless and full of despair, three barely holding on with faith. Thonnor was determined to protect his fading sister. By the time they were in their thirties she confined herself to her room, rarely to see the light. Now to grown and strong for the king to take advantage of his children he moved on to maids and young servants. In the shadows of the castle now lurked a plan for demise of the king. It went untold and unknown. While this sinister plan was in the making Thonnor would visit his empty sister. Her body more of an empty shell holding a shriveled flower. One day in the summer sun, Thonnor walked through the Sovereign Garden, the garden that held the Dryadic royal families other life. While happening upon his own scorned tree his eyes fell upon the bone lifeless frame of his sisters. The life in the tree sapped away. Thonnor's eyes widened in fear and in a moment he was running through the halls to his sister's chambers. His heart thrummed in his chest, tears stung his eyes. In the darkened room the little light from the window led him to his greatest fear.

Solemn, the Kingdom had darkened days with their once fair princess gone.

Although the loss of the princess set back the dark lurking plan, the hinderer pushing through with his plan. Soon the King fell horribly ill, the King stunk with disease and a distinct rotten smell. He was on his death bed for months until his final passing. Silently the Kingdom rejoiced in the loss of their ruthless power hungry king. Thonnor was at the age of 34 when an era of a new King was to be. As tradition and by birth right the knew King would be Rivorn, Thonnor's older brother but he was a cruel man just as his father. The most peculiar thing to Thonnor was remorse that Rivorn had felt yet was the most happy in all his life. It was known and not uncommon for the family and inner workings of the palace to feel more joy over the loss of the tyrannous King. In only months after the King's passing Rivorn would have his coronation.

Thonnor found Rivorn's bipolar moods the most peculiar. As secretly as possible Thonnor searched the rooms and all the possessions in the castle. On one occasion Thonnor happened upon a dark secret chamber within the hall. There he found a nearly empty bottle of a putrid brown liquid. Even more eerily it smelled just as his father had while ill. (hide spoiler)]