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Post by Stoakly Centurio on Apr 25, 2007 19:41:58 GMT
Cuoha - Nice RPing, but we use present-tense here. ;D Also, you had no faults and Terragon said if you did not include faults, you get Grade 3. Please post again.
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Post by Cuoha, Matt & Terry on Apr 26, 2007 15:20:02 GMT
Name: Cuoha Cloudfoot
Gender, Species and Appearance (fur colour, etc.): Cuoha is a short but slim squirrelmaid, with reddish-brown fur and diminutive ears. She wears a leaf-green habit with a brown habit girdle and leather sandals. Her tail fur is often tangled as she enjoys swimming in rivers and lakes.
Weapon: Gullwhacker style rope
Age: 60 seasons (15 years)
Personality: Cuoha is very adventurous and outgoing, constantly chatting animatedly to anybeast who will listen. She is never afraid to try new things. She is prone to Dibbunish bouts of giggling, even as an adult.
Faults: Cuoha acts first and thinks later, meaning she often says or does highly stupid things. She has extremely poor co-ordination, and she often trips over her own feet, making her thoroughly incompetent and many physical activities. She is also utterly impatient.
Skills: She is skilled as a cook, and is reasonably good with her hands. Her nature makes her good with Dibbuns.
History: Cuoha was born at Redwall Abbey during the Spring of the Swooping Swallows. Her father was Aumuei Cloudfoot and her mother was Aruq Sternpaw. She was a particularly troublesome Dibbun, exasperating Mother Mellus thoroughly with her antics. She was always very adventurous and admired Martin the Warrior, so when she grew out of Dibbunhood she left the Abbey to become a roving warrior. However, she soon discovered that she wasn't able to kill another beast, due to her physical incompetence. She visited Salamandastron and fought a battle with the Long Patrol, but she was almost slain several times and didn't manage to kill anybeast, so she started looking for somewhere to start a new life, eventually stumbling upon Terralux, where she discovered that she enjoyed cooking a lot more than fighting and spent her time cooking interesting dishes for feasts at Terralux.
RP Example (Cuoha's battle with the Long Patrol): Eulalia! *Cuoha shivers with excitement at the prospect of the oncoming battle. She feels safe surrounded by the many ranks of hares. She gazes down at the vermin horde in the valley below her. She smirks. They are a motley collection of searats and weasels, and don't look as though they have been subjected to any military training, judging by the messy lines they form. Cuoha curls her Gullwhacker around her paw. This will be simple, she thinks.* CHARGE! *The Long Patrol regiment thunders down the hill, with the squirrelmaid running in the front rank. The pounding footpaws and war cries have filled her with an adrenalin-pumping sensation. She runs at full speed, whooping with excitement. Suddenly, the regiment meets with the vermin horde. Overcome with exhilaration, she has let her guard drop. An enemy spear is thrust towards her, and she tries to duck, but her momentum carries her forwards into the spear head. Luckily, it only nicks her shoulder, but it is still excruciatingly painful. She felt angry now. How could she have let something so stupid happen?* I could have been killed! *Cuoha growls fiercely to herself. Recklessly, she swings her Gullwhacker at the nearest rat in fury at her own stupidity. It catches the rat a stinging blow, but then wrapps itself around Cuoha's footpaw. She tumbls to the floor and ends up sprawled ungainly across the grass. Thoroughly embarrassed, Cuoha begins to untangle the rope, but this requires her to take her concentration off the battle for a moment.* Aargh! *Cuoha feels a weasel's spear haft thump her between the ears. Her senses start to swim, and she passes out, falling into a void of inky blackness.*
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Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Apr 26, 2007 17:55:43 GMT
Grade 2 - I think I will over-rule whatever grade Stoakly is intending to award you, as there's a few mistakes (not obvious ones, but ones that are making you fall a little short of Grade 1) there.
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Post by Willowflame on May 4, 2007 3:55:10 GMT
Name: Willowflame Longbreeze Gender: Male Species: Otter Appearance: A tall young otter. His eyes are blue, and hold a certain secrecy behind them, as if to try to shield something. He wears a dark green tunic, a black leather belt around his waist, which holds his dagger and sling and pouch. The otter has strong muscles, and stands erect ready for anything that dares to challenge him. Taught by his father, Willowbreeze, the art of war, he wields his sword well. He has no care for a glamorous appearance, as he thinks that all that matters is in his heart, but he keeps himself tidy. However as a dibbun, he was a grubby beast, and his mother was always after him with a bar of soap.
Weapon:Short sword, and sling.
Age: 18 yrs.
Personality: A friendly otter, and a grand warrior. He will always fight for what he thinks is right, even to the death. Loves eating, and playing with younger beasts. He has a positive look on life. His cousin Dahlia would describe his as cheeky, but he denies it as much as possible.
History: Willowflame was born the son of Willowbreeze and Snowflame Longbreeze, in the Longbreeze Camp. His father was the younger son of the chief. But the tribe fell to misfortune, and rats attacked the peaceful village. Willowflame's family, all escaped safely away, and traveled to Redwall, a place of plenty and joy. Willow had been just 1 season old when he had moved, and had forgotten the journey. Dahlia his cousin and her parents had come too. They have lived well in Redwall, and Willowbreeze raised his son to a good warrior. However, a wandering spirit entered his soul, and he set off to Terralux. His aim in life is to help protect all good creatures from vermin like that who destroyed his previous home.
Short RP Example: (This is from the Sea Patrol on DAB. Sorry I didn't have time to think up something.) *The cool wind blew gently around the otter, catching the hem of his green tunic. The otter's eyes twinkled as he caught the smell of the sea coming in on the crisp morning. Gazing westwards, he could just spy the waves beating against the shore in the distance. His eyes were dreamy, thinking of the days gone by when his father had taught him the art of swordsmanship. His father words echoed in his brain. Willow, bring your sword up to deflect my blade. That's right. Now back to the engarde position. Now thrust forward! Good! Suddenly the crash of two metal weapons most likely that of swords brought the otter back to reality. Willow turned back to the narrow path and started to trudge slowly along the pathway, his eyes set on one particular place up ahead. The courtyard - a place where skills were learned, and reflexes quickened. His father had come to the courtyard and spent many hours of his life practicing the skills that would keep all good creatures safe.
Willow treaded the worn path carefully. He wore a dark green tunic, clean and neat. A black woven leather belt was hung around his waist, holding the two weapons he possessed. A long brown leather sling hung out of the belt just next to the buckle. A sling stone pouch was hung on a thin cord on the belt, just in easy reach. In the belt also, was a sheathed short sword. To look at it closely, you would have been surprised at its age. It was nothing special, but it had one bright sapphire mounted on the silver hilt. The dagger had seen many seasons of battles and was a trusty companion to the otter.
At last Willow reached the worn oak door. Thrusting a paw forward, he pushed the door open. A mixture of creatures were sparing and slinging. The otter grinned. This was the place he felt settled in. The place of friendship but a place of learning the skills of a warrior. Stepping in the otter walking slowly along the wall, searching out a creature to spar with. He glanced around, content in his element. He was glad to be part of the Sea Patrol.*
Is that alright?
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Post by Terragon Scrufftail on May 4, 2007 18:03:27 GMT
OOC: Willowflame, your character was a little stu-ish, but your writing style is easy to read and well-presented. Although your RP was very simple, it was, again, well-presented. With this in mind, I will allow Stoakly to grade you.
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Post by Willowflame on May 6, 2007 4:12:25 GMT
Thankee, Terri. *Bows.* Just for the sake of improving it, where was I stu-ish? In my history or RPing?
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Post by Terragon Scrufftail on May 6, 2007 8:02:55 GMT
OOC: History. The last sentence just sounded a little too happy-clappy character, for want of a much better phrase.
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Post by Stoakly Centurio on May 7, 2007 3:37:49 GMT
Sorry I'm late, Willowflame. Anyway, Class 2. The writing is good and it all flows, but the history is a bit stu-ish.
1. Son of chieftain/king/ect.
2. Rats attacked camp
Nice RPing. You'll be class 1 very soon.
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Post by Willowflame on May 11, 2007 5:01:54 GMT
Here's my revised history:
Willowflame was born the son of Willowbreeze and Snowflame Longbreeze, in the Longbreeze Camp. His father was the younger son of the Head Camp Warrior. But the tribe fell to misfortune, and there came a message from Redwall. The news was that a band of rats were near Mossflower and were prepared to attack all in their way. Willowflame's family, all fled the Camp, and traveled to Redwall, a place of plenty and joy. Willow had been just 1 season old when he had moved, and had forgotten the journey. Dahlia his cousin and her parents had come too. After one season however, Redwall warriors went searching for the vermin, but the message turned out to be a rumor and nothing else. However, the Longbreeze family had enjoyed their stay at Redwall, and decided to stay at the Abbey. They lived well in Redwall, and Willowbreeze raised his son to a good warrior. However, when Willowflame turned 18, a wandering spirit entered his heart, and he set off to Terralux.
Is that ok?
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Post by Willowflame on May 16, 2007 9:15:33 GMT
Yoohwho?
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Post by Terragon Scrufftail on May 16, 2007 17:52:44 GMT
It so isn't good to double-post on this thread or site, Willow'. Stoakly's away at the moment, and I never manage the "constructive" part of constructive critism. Your biography is better though. Start RPing as much as you can, and try to know your character. *Grins.* There! Short, but I didn't verbally murder y'!
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Post by Stoakly Centurio on May 16, 2007 18:22:22 GMT
Very nice job. There is less sueish-ness, yet a few errors in writing. I know I'm very, very picky, but the history is good and it can be ruined if the writing isn't good. The writing was good, but a few commas were out of place. *slaps self* I'm turning into my English Teacher.
Anyway, I'll just advise you to stay away from being the grandson of the camp warrior. Try to be a normal person. Be a Ruff, not a Matthias. Great job and class 1! ;D
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Fireclaw
Canopy Cadet
Dark Times Lie Ahead.... For The Lazy
Posts: 31
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Post by Fireclaw on May 17, 2007 18:47:25 GMT
Name Fireclaw Gender, Species and Appearance Male squrrile fur color brown Clothing has a green tunic and a leather belt and pouch Weapon bow and arrow dirk saber Age teen Personality Is good at dual's but to shy to start one History Is an orpane and grew up in dab Short (3 - 15 paragraphs) *A sturdy squrrile with bow and qiver straped to back walks up and signs name.* Helllo I am fireclaw it is good to meet you.
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Post by Stoakly Centurio on May 17, 2007 23:05:13 GMT
Well, Fireclaw, since I'm assumong you're going to take NONE of my advice, you will stay grade 3. I told you how to spell squirrel, I told you how to RP correctly, and this is what happens?! Sorry, I'm in a bad mood. *grumbles*
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Post by Gerfried and Pippin on May 31, 2007 4:05:10 GMT
Name:
Pippin Swift
Gender, Species and Appearance:
Pippin is a female red kite with keen, pale brownish-silver eyes. Wings folded, she appears to be an all-around rust colour, save her white head. Her feathers also have the special lustre gained from a diet highly supplemented by fish. Her rarely-used talons are usually kept sharp, mainly because of her vanity. She doesn't like to wear anything because it hinders her flight, though she can sometimes be seen with a small pouch strapped to the inside of her left wing with a light rope if she has to carry currency or written messages.
Weapon:
Beak, talons
Age:
Adult
Personality:
For a creature of her strength, Pippin is extremely malleable if one has the patience to converse with her. Although she is good at hiding this weakness from strangers, it soon becomes evident to any who take the effort to know her. She is easily charmed by anybeast's wealth or status and gravitates towards power. She has a quirky sense of humour, but won't take kindly to any remarks on her appearance. She can be quick to anger, but rarely resorts to fighting in a physical manner, preferring to toss insults around instead. She is very good with words and becomes very aggressive while engaged in a good debate. She's also skilled in negotiation, and is well-practiced in business. One of her most glaring weaknesses is her cowardice. If the situation isn't going her way, she'd just as soon turn tail and run rather than suffer whatever consequences face her. Although she is well into adulthood, Pippin can be immature.
History:
For all her life, Pippin has worked as a freelance spy for anybody that can pay her, which is often negotiated in terms of meat or fish. She learned everything she knows about her occupation from her mother, who learned it from hers. For a few years, she made a living selling secrets to two opposing shrew tribes in a long war, until the found out that they were being tricked for profit. At this point Pippin, of course, fled the area and her family reputation was tarnished all throughout the surrounding area. She hopes to mother her own chicks elsewhere, where her family isn't known as a group of traitors.
Short (3 - 15 paragraphs) RP Example
On a bright clear day, flying across a rather vast expanse of plains, stomach full of grasshoppers from her most recent payment from a private client, Pippin was in a pleasant mood. She felt as if she could soar around the world, she felt unstoppable. Just at that moment, looking below her, the kite saw a gruesome scene: the aftermath of a recent battle, strewn with vermin's corpses. Although this initially put a damper on her mood, she saw in this an opportunity for a new job. Seeking out the origin of the army, she soon saw a stone castle ahead with a rat, possibly linked to the battle, sitting in front of it.
Pippin perched on a high branch near the castle and cocked her head at the large, mangy brown rat in standing below her. Despite the fact that he carried a definite air of authority, he certainly didn't look like one of the powerful warlords she'd heard so much of in stories. He couldn't even keep his own fur in line, let alone a whole army. Idly preening her wing, Pippin planned how she would sell her services to the unfortunate-looking creature beneath her. He certainly wasn't raised in high society, she'd have to take a straightforward approach with him. Making a clean landing, she readied herself to speak as the rat in front of her started up the conversation himself.
"And jus' 'oo are yew?" he drawled indignantly, obviously taken aback from the kite's abrupt arrival.
"Pippin Swift, daughter of Saira Swift, at your service," proclaimed Pippin, craning her neck low. As she did, she could smell on the rat's breath that he had been drinking heavily.
The rat spat on the ground and fixed his eyes on the great creature in front of him. "Do ah look like ah give a badger's arse about yer mum? No, no, away wit' ye."
The kite's neck feathers involuntarily bristled. She was in a bad position now, and she hadn't even explained herself yet. "You see, my friend, I have something to propose to you. See, I know you're in a time of war right now. I happened to stumble across some telling clues in my travels..."
At this, the rat let out a long, wheezing laugh. "HAAAAAAH! Observant, are ye? Weel, let me ease yer trouble. War's over, we won, go chew on a corpse, oul' buzzard."
While she wanted to point out that a rat's eating habits weren't very clean either, Pippin decided it would be best to get away from a castle full of raucous, drunken, celebrating vermin as soon as possible, injured pride or not. As she left, she let out a high, screeching laugh and kicked a nest of grubs from a nearby tree onto the rat below. Well, she had to get back at him somehow.
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