Idea [Voice Over] Read Out Your Old RP!

Dang guys! All I can think about is doing this now...


I'm supposed to be replying to some of you... >w<
 
4 minutes ago, FemTheHufflepuffRiceball said:



Theatre major at my high school.


Hehe~




 






 
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Yeah no wonder!! that much expression was fun to listen too ahahha. teach us senpai!!
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Bolts said:
it all makes sense now!
Click to expand...


TripTripleTimes said:
Yeah no wonder!! that much expression was fun to listen too ahahha. teach us senpai!!
Click to expand...

Just...add drama to your tone? And emphasize things that you think would sound good emphasized. Find a character voice and try to keep with it. Also, just follow the tone of what you're saying....something like that. Tbh I was randomly doing hand gestures and making expressions while narrating. [SIZE= 8px]That was fun, Imma do another one. Maybe even steal other people's posts and give them a shot[/SIZE]
 
FemTheHufflepuffRiceball said:
  Phineas blinked when he was tossed off of the woman's shoulders and shot in the kneecap. Guess it was all up to Nik now, he thought, slowly sitting up and listening in, preparing to make his next move if he had to. "All right, Nik. Let's see what you'll do next," he mumbled, rubbing his leg injury. He didn't have time to pull the bullet out; he'd do it later. So the half-Neko just stood up and limped over to the next cell, which belonged to a crossdresser. He knocked the door down, looking at the person inside. "Come on, Miss. We're evacuating."


@MrNeko


------


  Nikolas grinned when the lady walked in, just as his brother had calculated. "What? You actually think I'm the kid of this guy?" he said, sounding dismayed as he pointed at Bismarck. "I was tryin' to end that coward's life, when some dude trying to play hero jumped in front of the guy. And then he went bazooka! Kicked ya in the jaw, remember?" he asked the other guard, who shook with anger. 


  "Stop messing with me, kid!"


  "Ey. I understand. You recently witnessed a terrible event. An idiot jumping in front of a bullet. I'd get some PTSD from that, too, bro." Nikolas patted the man's shoulder, smiling nonchalantly. The man shook even more intensely. "I could take you to Ellion later if ya'd like. Now in the meantime...." He pointed his gun back at Bismarck. "I think it's time to confess your sins, amirite, Bizzy?"


  Silence from the unconscious man, then he forced his eyes open. Three--no, two--guards, this time. And Nikolas. He looked between all three of them, then he forced a determined look on his face, this time kicking Nikolas in the stomach. Nikolas fell backwards, raising his gun even closer to Bismarck's head. "So you were awake. Any last words?"


  "...............You are so grounded........." Bismarck mumbled. It was only loud enough for Nik to hear. He smirked.


  "Whatever. To the torture chamber!"
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Dorky recording number two because that was fun: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1vAX9Ku6x0w


Haha Nikolas Saedor is a lot of fun to VA for surprisingly lmao
 
Ok. A few things to mention. This is an extract from a much larger post involving all sorts of characters and events, so I've cropped it to only revolve around one part. A few notes ::


- Elder Scrolls RP.


- Taure in the Ambassador mentioned.


- Maenriel is Gladius. The 2nd is an abbreviation of a title, and sort of alias.


- It's set in the Imperial City, which is recovering from an attack involving the Staff of Worms that had resurrected a great deal of the city's buried.


- I recorded this 3 times before giving up... I hate my voice. Sorry for background noise. 


https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B0iH26iuIF-CV1VoQVlPRlVoYjA


“Maenriel,” Taure sceptically began, glancing between Veira and him, silently requesting permission to intrude; “I uh-” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, though what that stated about him was difficult to decide; an apology would be a good start. “And Veira.” He sighed, “I’m about to visit Ysolde’s grave. I imagine…” He let out a shuddered breath, “I imagine it needs tidying, so…” He glanced up at them, barely aware he had started to stare at the ground, “Perhaps you would like to accompany me.” It was a poor attempt, but Taure not only couldn’t decide what to say, but also feared it may exacerbate the situation. He did, after all, stand by most of his actions; he only wished Maenriel understood them, regardless of whether he agreed.


Taure raised an eyebrow in question, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly in a joyless smile. The Altmer only nodded to Rellicas. Maenriel was his focus, and disregarding that he was not comfortable having Rell coming with him to visit Ysolde’s grave. Not only because he did not know her, but also he did not want him to see Taure in a vulnerable state. He did not want Maenriel to either, but that had already happened a worse extent.


Gladius hardened his expression as Taure interrupted, but out of …. pity? He wasn’t sure it was pity. Just a feeling that the Altmer had no ill intentions at this point.


“Out of respect for Ysolde, not you.” He managed, his expression softening enough.


“Veira sighed. “Always overshadowed by the long dead.” She quipped, taking the briefest of glances at the nearest Montclair.


Gladius removed his helmet, kissing Veira on the cheek as she turned her attention back. “Not for long.” He countered, as they both rose up to follow Taure for one last stint. In reality, they had barely known her death let alone her life, and her resting place was sure to be enlightening.


Taure nodded understandingly, turning away from Maenriel and Veira as they began their walk to wher Ysolde had been buried. Under normal circumstances she would be buried in the large underground catacombs, but during a war people are less inclined to stand on ceremony. He’d buried the girl in the Elven Gardens, behind her parents’ former house, though it had long since belonged to another since the war and the area around her grave had been legally excluded from the now altered deed.



Were it that they were civilians, the trio would not have been granted entrance to the district; thankfully they weren’t. This at least meant Taure was granted some peace and quiet during this time. Ysolde’s grave, as expected, was disturbed. The Altmer silently struggled to kneel down beside her grave, nudging her headstone into a more upright position before pushing soil around it. The grave itself was nothing short of a mess, clear that a creature had clawed its way out. He turned his head completely away from Maenriel and Veira, not allowing them to see his expression, and put his hands in the loose soil.


He dug for a few moments, pushing soil and stones aside, before brushing against a rough surface. The mer had buried her himself, and so she was only a few feet below; and without a coffin. He didn’t have to look, but he did regardless. The stitches had been torn, likely as the creature tried to drag itself from the grave, leaving the lower half somewhat buried, whilst its upper half could likely-


Taure stopped thinking about it, swallowing the lump in his throat. He moved more soil out of the way, looking for something in particular. After a few moments the Altmer pulled out a small brooch, a topaz set in its centre. It was hardly extravagant, but it meant a great deal. It seemed silly to leave it in what could be considered an empty grave.


He pocketed the brooch, shuffling back slightly and beginning to shovel the soil back into the grave. Once he was done, Taure rubbed his hands against his robe, dirtying the fine material before glancing behind him to see if Maenriel and Veira were still there. He wasn’t religious. He had never deemed the Aedra anything more than powerful beings; but Ysolde had revered them as gods. The Altmer bowed his head, eyes closed, and muttered a few quiet words. A prayer – for themselves. He touched a hand to the soil. For those they had lost. Lastly, he glanced up at the pair – and for those we are afraid to lose.


Taure stood, turning to face them directly, “I won’t look for the rest of the body. It will be burned like the others, and hers is a memory I wish not to tarnish. I would hate to see what state it is in.” He stepped past them, “I know you didn’t know her very well Maenriel, but she adored you from the stories I told. I hate to admit you were a greater inspiration than I, but she admired your heroism like no other. That’s why I brought you. She deserved to see you in person.”


He didn’t bother for a response, as he departed. This act had been for Ysolde; his next would be for himself.


A brief wave of melancholy rushed over the Bosmer. In another life, a corpse would have held no qualms for him. In another time, he would have been callous enough not to weep over the dead.


This was different. Gladius had made it a personal mantra that no soldier died under his watch. A wound, a scuff, or a bruise at most. Nothing short of judiciously calculated odds and patience had let him achieve that, to the scorn of generals above him who valued promptness over sreadiness. It was a long war, however, and a few hours or days lost to conserve soldiers was well worth the reward.


Which made Ysolde’s passing – an old wound recently opened – made him feel so petty. Petty for an argument that gained nothing but grief.


There was grief enough already.


He did not know what was worse. That Taure could not save Ysolde, she was taken before her time, or she chose to sacrifice herself for someone else’s war. She was like a… a cousin, maybe. A niece, to Maenriel, and that last aside made him regretful they didn’t have a chance to know each other.


Taken too soon. She had a future.


Had his own future self known? Did the Maenriel that diverted a swathe of death simply not care for Taure’s closest?


If the Ambassador had a weak spot, it was right here. Veira didn’t mean to pry, but strong emotions were easy to read. Anger. Jubilation. Disgust. And profound sorrow. 


It was one thing to lose a loved one, but another for the knife to be turned in the wound. Somethings were worth preserving, and while this Ysolde character was long gone, and so many had been defiled just as distastefully, few would care enough to remember her.


It was one thing to die alone, but another to be forgetten.


Gladius was a completionist of sorts. A routine fixer. He walked off in one direction, no doubt following bread crumbs left by a half mangled corpse.


She turned her back, as the bony shuffles came back. She could tell he was treating this delicately, as if resting a child to rest. For one last, long, sleep.


She could only imagine this was what Taure did, though the sheer modesty of the arrangementspoke volumes about how he behaved in grievance.


The earth behind her sounded like it was churning akin to quicksand. No doubt Maenriel had channeled his Green Pact shield to reclaim the body, and set up a more natural resting place. He’d marked the twenty Imperial guardsmen some time back, and that grove had flourished in those years. 


She turned back to see a sapling flourish into a respendant twirling mass. Roots lined the figure below, marking the spot naturally as the headstone became framed within. The earth itself hardened in a vain attempt to protect the position from damage. Finally, the roots stopped, as a fuzzy mural of his last memory of the woman lay at rest.


“Move her into the sun– 
Gently…. its touch awoke her once, 
At home, whispering of fields unsown,
Of friends unknown and dreams unflown. 
Always, it awoke her, even in Cyrodiil, 
On rainy days by windowsill,
Or lonely days on gladed hills,
Until this morning and this snow. 
If anything might rouse her now 
The kind old sun will know.” 


He bespoke, with a dignity he wished the world could hear, as he looked up at the faded sun now glittering through the fresh leaves.“Think how it wakes the seeds– 
Woke, once, the soil of a cold star,
That burdens with another scar. 
Is life, so long yet short, stolen,
As light fades from our eyes and soul….
Was it for this the grass grew tall? 
Do we stand up so we will fall?
Oh, what convinced a magic touch, 
To break earth’s sleep and peace at all?”


He lamented, as blades of grass parted to inscribe the poem into the hardened soil, creating the background for the mural. A monument the first significant loss he never truly felt.


She was about to ask if he had wrote that down and had waited for a stereotypical moment to loose it. But… it was something so sorrowful about war and death, that it could have only been for one thing.


“My eulogy from the future? Well, at least you’re recycling.” She half heartedly praised, departing in the same manner as Taure.


The Bosmerknight probably nodded, content that he had an opportunity to pay respect in person, as the uncanny chink of a sheathed shield got closer and he was right at her side again.
 
Taure Tavari said:
Ok. A few things to mention. This is an extract from a much larger post involving all sorts of characters and events, so I've cropped it to only revolve around one part. A few notes ::


- Elder Scrolls RP.


- Taure in the Ambassador mentioned.


- Maenriel is Gladius. The 2nd is an abbreviation of a title, and sort of alias.


- It's set in the Imperial City, which is recovering from an attack involving the Staff of Worms that had resurrected a great deal of the city's buried.


- I recorded this 3 times before giving up... I hate my voice. Sorry for background noise. 


https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B0iH26iuIF-CV1VoQVlPRlVoYjA


“Maenriel,” Taure sceptically began, glancing between Veira and him, silently requesting permission to intrude; “I uh-” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, though what that stated about him was difficult to decide; an apology would be a good start. “And Veira.” He sighed, “I’m about to visit Ysolde’s grave. I imagine…” He let out a shuddered breath, “I imagine it needs tidying, so…” He glanced up at them, barely aware he had started to stare at the ground, “Perhaps you would like to accompany me.” It was a poor attempt, but Taure not only couldn’t decide what to say, but also feared it may exacerbate the situation. He did, after all, stand by most of his actions; he only wished Maenriel understood them, regardless of whether he agreed.


Taure raised an eyebrow in question, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly in a joyless smile. The Altmer only nodded to Rellicas. Maenriel was his focus, and disregarding that he was not comfortable having Rell coming with him to visit Ysolde’s grave. Not only because he did not know her, but also he did not want him to see Taure in a vulnerable state. He did not want Maenriel to either, but that had already happened a worse extent.


Gladius hardened his expression as Taure interrupted, but out of …. pity? He wasn’t sure it was pity. Just a feeling that the Altmer had no ill intentions at this point.


“Out of respect for Ysolde, not you.” He managed, his expression softening enough.


“Veira sighed. “Always overshadowed by the long dead.” She quipped, taking the briefest of glances at the nearest Montclair.


Gladius removed his helmet, kissing Veira on the cheek as she turned her attention back. “Not for long.” He countered, as they both rose up to follow Taure for one last stint. In reality, they had barely known her death let alone her life, and her resting place was sure to be enlightening.


Taure nodded understandingly, turning away from Maenriel and Veira as they began their walk to wher Ysolde had been buried. Under normal circumstances she would be buried in the large underground catacombs, but during a war people are less inclined to stand on ceremony. He’d buried the girl in the Elven Gardens, behind her parents’ former house, though it had long since belonged to another since the war and the area around her grave had been legally excluded from the now altered deed.



Were it that they were civilians, the trio would not have been granted entrance to the district; thankfully they weren’t. This at least meant Taure was granted some peace and quiet during this time. Ysolde’s grave, as expected, was disturbed. The Altmer silently struggled to kneel down beside her grave, nudging her headstone into a more upright position before pushing soil around it. The grave itself was nothing short of a mess, clear that a creature had clawed its way out. He turned his head completely away from Maenriel and Veira, not allowing them to see his expression, and put his hands in the loose soil.


He dug for a few moments, pushing soil and stones aside, before brushing against a rough surface. The mer had buried her himself, and so she was only a few feet below; and without a coffin. He didn’t have to look, but he did regardless. The stitches had been torn, likely as the creature tried to drag itself from the grave, leaving the lower half somewhat buried, whilst its upper half could likely-


Taure stopped thinking about it, swallowing the lump in his throat. He moved more soil out of the way, looking for something in particular. After a few moments the Altmer pulled out a small brooch, a topaz set in its centre. It was hardly extravagant, but it meant a great deal. It seemed silly to leave it in what could be considered an empty grave.


He pocketed the brooch, shuffling back slightly and beginning to shovel the soil back into the grave. Once he was done, Taure rubbed his hands against his robe, dirtying the fine material before glancing behind him to see if Maenriel and Veira were still there. He wasn’t religious. He had never deemed the Aedra anything more than powerful beings; but Ysolde had revered them as gods. The Altmer bowed his head, eyes closed, and muttered a few quiet words. A prayer – for themselves. He touched a hand to the soil. For those they had lost. Lastly, he glanced up at the pair – and for those we are afraid to lose.


Taure stood, turning to face them directly, “I won’t look for the rest of the body. It will be burned like the others, and hers is a memory I wish not to tarnish. I would hate to see what state it is in.” He stepped past them, “I know you didn’t know her very well Maenriel, but she adored you from the stories I told. I hate to admit you were a greater inspiration than I, but she admired your heroism like no other. That’s why I brought you. She deserved to see you in person.”


He didn’t bother for a response, as he departed. This act had been for Ysolde; his next would be for himself.


A brief wave of melancholy rushed over the Bosmer. In another life, a corpse would have held no qualms for him. In another time, he would have been callous enough not to weep over the dead.


This was different. Gladius had made it a personal mantra that no soldier died under his watch. A wound, a scuff, or a bruise at most. Nothing short of judiciously calculated odds and patience had let him achieve that, to the scorn of generals above him who valued promptness over sreadiness. It was a long war, however, and a few hours or days lost to conserve soldiers was well worth the reward.


Which made Ysolde’s passing – an old wound recently opened – made him feel so petty. Petty for an argument that gained nothing but grief.


There was grief enough already.


He did not know what was worse. That Taure could not save Ysolde, she was taken before her time, or she chose to sacrifice herself for someone else’s war. She was like a… a cousin, maybe. A niece, to Maenriel, and that last aside made him regretful they didn’t have a chance to know each other.


Taken too soon. She had a future.


Had his own future self known? Did the Maenriel that diverted a swathe of death simply not care for Taure’s closest?


If the Ambassador had a weak spot, it was right here. Veira didn’t mean to pry, but strong emotions were easy to read. Anger. Jubilation. Disgust. And profound sorrow. 


It was one thing to lose a loved one, but another for the knife to be turned in the wound. Somethings were worth preserving, and while this Ysolde character was long gone, and so many had been defiled just as distastefully, few would care enough to remember her.


It was one thing to die alone, but another to be forgetten.


Gladius was a completionist of sorts. A routine fixer. He walked off in one direction, no doubt following bread crumbs left by a half mangled corpse.


She turned her back, as the bony shuffles came back. She could tell he was treating this delicately, as if resting a child to rest. For one last, long, sleep.


She could only imagine this was what Taure did, though the sheer modesty of the arrangementspoke volumes about how he behaved in grievance.


The earth behind her sounded like it was churning akin to quicksand. No doubt Maenriel had channeled his Green Pact shield to reclaim the body, and set up a more natural resting place. He’d marked the twenty Imperial guardsmen some time back, and that grove had flourished in those years. 


She turned back to see a sapling flourish into a respendant twirling mass. Roots lined the figure below, marking the spot naturally as the headstone became framed within. The earth itself hardened in a vain attempt to protect the position from damage. Finally, the roots stopped, as a fuzzy mural of his last memory of the woman lay at rest.


“Move her into the sun– 
Gently…. its touch awoke her once, 
At home, whispering of fields unsown,
Of friends unknown and dreams unflown. 
Always, it awoke her, even in Cyrodiil, 
On rainy days by windowsill,
Or lonely days on gladed hills,
Until this morning and this snow. 
If anything might rouse her now 
The kind old sun will know.” 


He bespoke, with a dignity he wished the world could hear, as he looked up at the faded sun now glittering through the fresh leaves.“Think how it wakes the seeds– 
Woke, once, the soil of a cold star,
That burdens with another scar. 
Is life, so long yet short, stolen,
As light fades from our eyes and soul….
Was it for this the grass grew tall? 
Do we stand up so we will fall?
Oh, what convinced a magic touch, 
To break earth’s sleep and peace at all?”


He lamented, as blades of grass parted to inscribe the poem into the hardened soil, creating the background for the mural. A monument the first significant loss he never truly felt.


She was about to ask if he had wrote that down and had waited for a stereotypical moment to loose it. But… it was something so sorrowful about war and death, that it could have only been for one thing.


“My eulogy from the future? Well, at least you’re recycling.” She half heartedly praised, departing in the same manner as Taure.


The Bosmerknight probably nodded, content that he had an opportunity to pay respect in person, as the uncanny chink of a sheathed shield got closer and he was right at her side again.
Click to expand...

I understand the struggle. I had to edit stuff to make it not as bad
 
1 hour ago, Taure Tavari said:



Ok. A few things to mention. This is an extract from a much larger post involving all sorts of characters and events, so I've cropped it to only revolve around one part. A few notes ::


- Elder Scrolls RP.


- Taure in the Ambassador mentioned.


- Maenriel is Gladius. The 2nd is an abbreviation of a title, and sort of alias.


- It's set in the Imperial City, which is recovering from an attack involving the Staff of Worms that had resurrected a great deal of the city's buried.


- I recorded this 3 times before giving up... I hate my voice. Sorry for background noise. 


https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B0iH26iuIF-CV1VoQVlPRlVoYjA


“Maenriel,” Taure sceptically began, glancing between Veira and him, silently requesting permission to intrude; “I uh-” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, though what that stated about him was difficult to decide; an apology would be a good start. “And Veira.” He sighed, “I’m about to visit Ysolde’s grave. I imagine…” He let out a shuddered breath, “I imagine it needs tidying, so…” He glanced up at them, barely aware he had started to stare at the ground, “Perhaps you would like to accompany me.” It was a poor attempt, but Taure not only couldn’t decide what to say, but also feared it may exacerbate the situation. He did, after all, stand by most of his actions; he only wished Maenriel understood them, regardless of whether he agreed.


Taure raised an eyebrow in question, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly in a joyless smile. The Altmer only nodded to Rellicas. Maenriel was his focus, and disregarding that he was not comfortable having Rell coming with him to visit Ysolde’s grave. Not only because he did not know her, but also he did not want him to see Taure in a vulnerable state. He did not want Maenriel to either, but that had already happened a worse extent.


Gladius hardened his expression as Taure interrupted, but out of …. pity? He wasn’t sure it was pity. Just a feeling that the Altmer had no ill intentions at this point.


“Out of respect for Ysolde, not you.” He managed, his expression softening enough.


“Veira sighed. “Always overshadowed by the long dead.” She quipped, taking the briefest of glances at the nearest Montclair.


Gladius removed his helmet, kissing Veira on the cheek as she turned her attention back. “Not for long.” He countered, as they both rose up to follow Taure for one last stint. In reality, they had barely known her death let alone her life, and her resting place was sure to be enlightening.


Taure nodded understandingly, turning away from Maenriel and Veira as they began their walk to wher Ysolde had been buried. Under normal circumstances she would be buried in the large underground catacombs, but during a war people are less inclined to stand on ceremony. He’d buried the girl in the Elven Gardens, behind her parents’ former house, though it had long since belonged to another since the war and the area around her grave had been legally excluded from the now altered deed.



Were it that they were civilians, the trio would not have been granted entrance to the district; thankfully they weren’t. This at least meant Taure was granted some peace and quiet during this time. Ysolde’s grave, as expected, was disturbed. The Altmer silently struggled to kneel down beside her grave, nudging her headstone into a more upright position before pushing soil around it. The grave itself was nothing short of a mess, clear that a creature had clawed its way out. He turned his head completely away from Maenriel and Veira, not allowing them to see his expression, and put his hands in the loose soil.


He dug for a few moments, pushing soil and stones aside, before brushing against a rough surface. The mer had buried her himself, and so she was only a few feet below; and without a coffin. He didn’t have to look, but he did regardless. The stitches had been torn, likely as the creature tried to drag itself from the grave, leaving the lower half somewhat buried, whilst its upper half could likely-


Taure stopped thinking about it, swallowing the lump in his throat. He moved more soil out of the way, looking for something in particular. After a few moments the Altmer pulled out a small brooch, a topaz set in its centre. It was hardly extravagant, but it meant a great deal. It seemed silly to leave it in what could be considered an empty grave.


He pocketed the brooch, shuffling back slightly and beginning to shovel the soil back into the grave. Once he was done, Taure rubbed his hands against his robe, dirtying the fine material before glancing behind him to see if Maenriel and Veira were still there. He wasn’t religious. He had never deemed the Aedra anything more than powerful beings; but Ysolde had revered them as gods. The Altmer bowed his head, eyes closed, and muttered a few quiet words. A prayer – for themselves. He touched a hand to the soil. For those they had lost. Lastly, he glanced up at the pair – and for those we are afraid to lose.


Taure stood, turning to face them directly, “I won’t look for the rest of the body. It will be burned like the others, and hers is a memory I wish not to tarnish. I would hate to see what state it is in.” He stepped past them, “I know you didn’t know her very well Maenriel, but she adored you from the stories I told. I hate to admit you were a greater inspiration than I, but she admired your heroism like no other. That’s why I brought you. She deserved to see you in person.”


He didn’t bother for a response, as he departed. This act had been for Ysolde; his next would be for himself.


A brief wave of melancholy rushed over the Bosmer. In another life, a corpse would have held no qualms for him. In another time, he would have been callous enough not to weep over the dead.


This was different. Gladius had made it a personal mantra that no soldier died under his watch. A wound, a scuff, or a bruise at most. Nothing short of judiciously calculated odds and patience had let him achieve that, to the scorn of generals above him who valued promptness over sreadiness. It was a long war, however, and a few hours or days lost to conserve soldiers was well worth the reward.


Which made Ysolde’s passing – an old wound recently opened – made him feel so petty. Petty for an argument that gained nothing but grief.


There was grief enough already.


He did not know what was worse. That Taure could not save Ysolde, she was taken before her time, or she chose to sacrifice herself for someone else’s war. She was like a… a cousin, maybe. A niece, to Maenriel, and that last aside made him regretful they didn’t have a chance to know each other.


Taken too soon. She had a future.


Had his own future self known? Did the Maenriel that diverted a swathe of death simply not care for Taure’s closest?


If the Ambassador had a weak spot, it was right here. Veira didn’t mean to pry, but strong emotions were easy to read. Anger. Jubilation. Disgust. And profound sorrow. 


It was one thing to lose a loved one, but another for the knife to be turned in the wound. Somethings were worth preserving, and while this Ysolde character was long gone, and so many had been defiled just as distastefully, few would care enough to remember her.


It was one thing to die alone, but another to be forgetten.


Gladius was a completionist of sorts. A routine fixer. He walked off in one direction, no doubt following bread crumbs left by a half mangled corpse.


She turned her back, as the bony shuffles came back. She could tell he was treating this delicately, as if resting a child to rest. For one last, long, sleep.


She could only imagine this was what Taure did, though the sheer modesty of the arrangementspoke volumes about how he behaved in grievance.


The earth behind her sounded like it was churning akin to quicksand. No doubt Maenriel had channeled his Green Pact shield to reclaim the body, and set up a more natural resting place. He’d marked the twenty Imperial guardsmen some time back, and that grove had flourished in those years. 


She turned back to see a sapling flourish into a respendant twirling mass. Roots lined the figure below, marking the spot naturally as the headstone became framed within. The earth itself hardened in a vain attempt to protect the position from damage. Finally, the roots stopped, as a fuzzy mural of his last memory of the woman lay at rest.


“Move her into the sun– 
Gently…. its touch awoke her once, 
At home, whispering of fields unsown,
Of friends unknown and dreams unflown. 
Always, it awoke her, even in Cyrodiil, 
On rainy days by windowsill,
Or lonely days on gladed hills,
Until this morning and this snow. 
If anything might rouse her now 
The kind old sun will know.” 


He bespoke, with a dignity he wished the world could hear, as he looked up at the faded sun now glittering through the fresh leaves.“Think how it wakes the seeds– 
Woke, once, the soil of a cold star,
That burdens with another scar. 
Is life, so long yet short, stolen,
As light fades from our eyes and soul….
Was it for this the grass grew tall? 
Do we stand up so we will fall?
Oh, what convinced a magic touch, 
To break earth’s sleep and peace at all?”


He lamented, as blades of grass parted to inscribe the poem into the hardened soil, creating the background for the mural. A monument the first significant loss he never truly felt.


She was about to ask if he had wrote that down and had waited for a stereotypical moment to loose it. But… it was something so sorrowful about war and death, that it could have only been for one thing.


“My eulogy from the future? Well, at least you’re recycling.” She half heartedly praised, departing in the same manner as Taure.


The Bosmerknight probably nodded, content that he had an opportunity to pay respect in person, as the uncanny chink of a sheathed shield got closer and he was right at her side again.
Click to expand...
 






 






 
Click to expand...





 







Ohhh nice, and you read for so long! Very sobering, but lovely too. I don't know how people can read for so long ahahha, i quite after a min in recording >< 


I cheated too... used audacity and noise reduced the heck out of it... (just the basic audio edit though)


@FemTheHufflepuffRiceball heheh fem you're making me want to do another round... but with attempted umph... gonna fail with the umph part...

22 minutes ago, arcaneSentinel said:



@TripTripleTimes


Id love to try this out with our infamous rp. I'm hoping it won't die. How does this work?




 
Click to expand...

Ahh yeah! Try with the InFamous rp dude! Just record and post using whatever method you can do! (Yeah i hope that rp isn't dead... I think I'm waiting for your reply? panda replied for us... unless I missed your thread there? It has been a while.))
 
TripTripleTimes said:
 





Ohhh nice, and you read for so long! Very sobering, but lovely too. I don't know how people can read for so long ahahha, i quite after a min in recording >< 


I cheated too... used audacity and noise reduced the heck out of it... (just the basic audio edit though)


@FemTheHufflepuffRiceball heheh fem you're making me want to do another round... but with attempted umph... gonna fail with the umph part...


Ahh yeah! Try with the InFamous rp dude! Just record and post using whatever method you can do! (Yeah i hope that rp isn't dead... I think I'm waiting for your reply? panda replied for us... unless I missed your thread there? It has been a while.))
Click to expand...

Just DO IT TRIPPY


EVEN BETTER DO AN EMU POST. I WANNA HEAR YOU IMITATE EMU
 
TripTripleTimes said:
Ahh yeah! Try with the InFamous rp dude! Just record and post using whatever method you can do! (Yeah i hope that rp isn't dead... I think I'm waiting for your reply? panda replied for us... unless I missed your thread there? It has been a while.))
Click to expand...

Def gonna try to do something tomorrow. Also I wasn't really sure if it was someone's turn or something. I'll post next. I'll also check with the others in it to see if they're still up for it. Either way I'm planning on a time skip soon to help things move along a bit more. Sound good?
 
I can´t seem to get past the trouble of the fact my computer´s noises are getting recorded too, and quite loudly at that.
 
FemTheHufflepuffRiceball said:
Just DO IT TRIPPY


EVEN BETTER DO AN EMU POST. I WANNA HEAR YOU IMITATE EMU





 






 






 






 






 






 






 






 







 Eep!


http://vocaroo.com/i/s159fRlfGDvY

On 11/30/2015 at 11:51 PM, TripTripleTimes said:



Emmanuel squishes his face in distaste as he is called a little boy once again. He doesn't say anything though but snickers when the lady says nothing to the man's question. That girl is waaaaaay out of his league.


The kid grins a bit more, feeling a bit better than before... or not. Shot, why did he think about his feelings again? Emmanuel walks up to the counter where the man with glasses stands behind. He puts his arms on top of the counter and lean towards the man. The boy looks at the lady and back up at the man.


"You should be a bit more... straightforward," Emmanuel says, voice low so that the lady can't hear him.




3






 
Click to expand...
On 12/1/2015 at 9:08 AM, TripTripleTimes said:





Emmanuel's eyes widden in glee when the man bursts out his heart to that pretty lady. He is ready to crack a smile, waiting for the lady to reject the four eyes. But everything comes crashing down down when a familiar high pitch voice calls out his nickname. Emmanuel turns half way to face the voice when he is attacks. All he can see is pink -pink everywhere - and soon he is down to the ground with an "Oouf!"


"Get off me!" Emmanuel cries out and push the smaller figure off of him so that he can sit up. Wait, he knows this girl. "It's you!" He again cries backing away only to bump his head on the wooden counter. He is just surprised!




5






 
Click to expand...

It's obvious when it changes haha ah..

18 hours ago, Ammokkx said:



First part of this post is what I read out.


This is the link to the Vocaroo.


If you want more, ask. Otherwise, my job here's done.




 
Click to expand...

Ohhhhh 
asdfghplz.png




15 hours ago, Idea said:



I can´t seem to get past the trouble of the fact my computer´s noises are getting recorded too, and quite loudly at that.
Click to expand...

Aww yikes dude Hopes your computer calms down for you ;p but ah, no hurries man join us when you're able to
 
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