Hey there. I'm Church, and I'll keep this simple and sweet for those of us who have much more important things to procrastinate on.
I'm a fairly literate and in-depth roleplayer with between three and eighteen years of experience, if you count all the parts of my life I pretended to be human, rather than the amorphous, world-devouring monstrosity I truly am.
To the whole "who I am" thing, and my rules? I'm capable of writing words good, and doing the whole creativity thing. And my rules are that you be able to write words good, too, and be creative and stuff.
Sarcasm aside, I really am only looking for something good. What precisely that means to you is a matter of perspective, and I love to be surprised, challenged, and I'm sure there's a third word I could put here.
Truthfully, that's all I really have to say. If you didn't like me in those previous four lines, you won't like me for the next four-thousand. That said, if you did like it, then I should provide two things.
An example of how I write, from a roleplay.
"Ghost fire!" So came the call. And with the call came a single arrow, sent soaring with a simple wooden twang, arcing above the battered lines. On the arrow's shaft was a vial of green fluid, only a mere few drops, but the warriors below it stared as though it was a demon's laughing maw. It whipped through the cold winter air and over the roaring monsters, not in the least worried on the human lines suddenly stopping to stare. Below it, the fires that burned in the dirt seemed attracted to it, a hundred different flames tilting in desperation toward the arrow, before sagging back when it flew too far. When it did land, it did so in an unimpressive manner, slamming into the chest of one of the beasts, which was barely staggered back, though it desperately pawed at its fur as tongues of death began to shroud it. It stood in the center of the throbbing mass of stinking beast bodies, and only a few bothered to stare and step away, making noises of distress and fear. Even after the monster was burned to bleached bones, the fire grew. In the span of seconds, it had changed from an unimpressive light to a small inferno. As it grew, so were the fires nearby attracted even more strongly, to the point where they whipped madly side-to-side, catching more demons in their path. Even those further back in the human lines and the hills beyond began to dip toward the ghost fire. Seconds bled into each other as even the demon hordes stopped to watch, some in fear, some in horror, and some in resigned fury. Every light in the dark night was being pulled toward the fire as it raged and grew, creeping across dirt. The first of the flames near it were snuffed out, though it was not yet touching them, and the rest were in a maddened frenzy, seeming to come to life for the sole desire to mate and meld with the pale green fire that turned bones and dirt alike to glass. Next went the arrows, the smoldering timbers, the bonfires. The lights on gauntlets were snuffed out, the lights from within the eyes of demons, and every fire in sight. Last went the stars and the moon, all the light in the world suddenly snuffed out. The ghost fire receded into itself. All light was gone, and no noise was being made but for ragged breathing and whimpers of pain.
Without ado, the world cracked apart, and the ghost fire returned. It no longer creeped - it raged, rushing out across the muddy field to greedily devour all that stood before it. Everything that existed was made immaterial, fuel and food for the demonic fire. Monsters screamed and ran, both horrifying in their own right to see, and were eaten still. In every direction, to the raw noise of the very essence of creation being wronged, the ghost fire ate, and ate, and ate. Ruined buildings, thickets of trees, brush and grass, refuse and jetsam, and, by the end, even the front human line. Silent awe turned to desperately loud panic as a thousand soldiers turned to flee from the ghost fire. Not all made it to safety. Nothing was left of those it caught, not even bones and armor. As it reached the peak of its rush, the lights of the world returned in a single thunderous noise. The moon blinked, the fires wavered, and mere steps from the main mass of the human armies, the ghost fire faded to nothing, leaving silent wrath in its wake. What few demons still lived fled into the darkness, and the humans, left injured and frightened - but victorious - cheered. Not all, of course. Some screamed. Some wept. Some desperately said the names of missing comrades. But in the end, the cheer drowned out all the rest of the noise. Beyond the human lines was now nothing but glass and dirt up to the hills. Nothing organic lived, nothing else even remained. A black, dark field was all that was left. Following the cheer came a stunned, shocked, pained silence, as the humans simply watched what they had done, and found nothing within themselves to adequately explain their understanding of what had just happened.
Alright! That was just a little tidbit of my writing. If you liked that, and if you'd like to get in touch, shoot me a message, a reply, an email, a letter, or a Satanic sacrifice.
I'm a fairly literate and in-depth roleplayer with between three and eighteen years of experience, if you count all the parts of my life I pretended to be human, rather than the amorphous, world-devouring monstrosity I truly am.
To the whole "who I am" thing, and my rules? I'm capable of writing words good, and doing the whole creativity thing. And my rules are that you be able to write words good, too, and be creative and stuff.
Sarcasm aside, I really am only looking for something good. What precisely that means to you is a matter of perspective, and I love to be surprised, challenged, and I'm sure there's a third word I could put here.
Truthfully, that's all I really have to say. If you didn't like me in those previous four lines, you won't like me for the next four-thousand. That said, if you did like it, then I should provide two things.
An example of how I write, from a roleplay.
"Ghost fire!" So came the call. And with the call came a single arrow, sent soaring with a simple wooden twang, arcing above the battered lines. On the arrow's shaft was a vial of green fluid, only a mere few drops, but the warriors below it stared as though it was a demon's laughing maw. It whipped through the cold winter air and over the roaring monsters, not in the least worried on the human lines suddenly stopping to stare. Below it, the fires that burned in the dirt seemed attracted to it, a hundred different flames tilting in desperation toward the arrow, before sagging back when it flew too far. When it did land, it did so in an unimpressive manner, slamming into the chest of one of the beasts, which was barely staggered back, though it desperately pawed at its fur as tongues of death began to shroud it. It stood in the center of the throbbing mass of stinking beast bodies, and only a few bothered to stare and step away, making noises of distress and fear. Even after the monster was burned to bleached bones, the fire grew. In the span of seconds, it had changed from an unimpressive light to a small inferno. As it grew, so were the fires nearby attracted even more strongly, to the point where they whipped madly side-to-side, catching more demons in their path. Even those further back in the human lines and the hills beyond began to dip toward the ghost fire. Seconds bled into each other as even the demon hordes stopped to watch, some in fear, some in horror, and some in resigned fury. Every light in the dark night was being pulled toward the fire as it raged and grew, creeping across dirt. The first of the flames near it were snuffed out, though it was not yet touching them, and the rest were in a maddened frenzy, seeming to come to life for the sole desire to mate and meld with the pale green fire that turned bones and dirt alike to glass. Next went the arrows, the smoldering timbers, the bonfires. The lights on gauntlets were snuffed out, the lights from within the eyes of demons, and every fire in sight. Last went the stars and the moon, all the light in the world suddenly snuffed out. The ghost fire receded into itself. All light was gone, and no noise was being made but for ragged breathing and whimpers of pain.
Without ado, the world cracked apart, and the ghost fire returned. It no longer creeped - it raged, rushing out across the muddy field to greedily devour all that stood before it. Everything that existed was made immaterial, fuel and food for the demonic fire. Monsters screamed and ran, both horrifying in their own right to see, and were eaten still. In every direction, to the raw noise of the very essence of creation being wronged, the ghost fire ate, and ate, and ate. Ruined buildings, thickets of trees, brush and grass, refuse and jetsam, and, by the end, even the front human line. Silent awe turned to desperately loud panic as a thousand soldiers turned to flee from the ghost fire. Not all made it to safety. Nothing was left of those it caught, not even bones and armor. As it reached the peak of its rush, the lights of the world returned in a single thunderous noise. The moon blinked, the fires wavered, and mere steps from the main mass of the human armies, the ghost fire faded to nothing, leaving silent wrath in its wake. What few demons still lived fled into the darkness, and the humans, left injured and frightened - but victorious - cheered. Not all, of course. Some screamed. Some wept. Some desperately said the names of missing comrades. But in the end, the cheer drowned out all the rest of the noise. Beyond the human lines was now nothing but glass and dirt up to the hills. Nothing organic lived, nothing else even remained. A black, dark field was all that was left. Following the cheer came a stunned, shocked, pained silence, as the humans simply watched what they had done, and found nothing within themselves to adequately explain their understanding of what had just happened.
Alright! That was just a little tidbit of my writing. If you liked that, and if you'd like to get in touch, shoot me a message, a reply, an email, a letter, or a Satanic sacrifice.
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