Hiya, Join me in building a story...?

RP-related discussion otherwise not covered in the Character Closet.
Roose Hurro
 

Hiya, Join me in building a story...?

Unread postby Roose Hurro » Tue Dec 12, 2006 4:41 am

Well, no time like the present to throw down some thoughts on a new RP! I'm thinking my character Pico would be a good start, since he hasn't had much exercise lately, and I don't want him to go stale. Thing is, exactly where do I throw him? And how hard? My first thoughts are to set this in the Other RP forum, somewhere far from Gaera... some other world, or on a spacestation somewhere. I could thump Pico hard, and have him crashland on a planetary surface, or I could be more gentle, and have him arrive at a station dock, or maybe walk into a station/port cantina.........

His profile is in the Closet, so maybe any interested players could help me hash something out. Being new here, I'd like to start something that would hold intrest for a long time, till whatever story developes reaches its full, natural conclusion... or moves on to another thread, another storyline to explore.

So... I need players, and help on a plot we can all enjoy. Old characters, new characters... humanoid, or not... set in a universe of Technology, with maybe a little Magic thrown in for spice. It's all up to us....

Suggestions, and thanks ahead of time!


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Edit: For your enjoyment, I thought you might like a few examples of my writing, so I have attached a few RP bits to this thread (my work only). Have fun...


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The station's deck felt the hard clack-skreek of Pico's claws, so tense, his scythes left deep scratches behind every step... till his distance from the ship docked at the portlock reached the point where his tensions eased up, and his claws only clacked. No... they had taken his money and given him passage, if only to get him off their planet... but, no... they had not been at all friendly...

... and the sound of their undocking seemed... rushed. He'd been the only passenger, the ship a fast courier... him, a package to be delivered anywhere far away from their Homeworld....

Pico felt the whole situation deserved good riddance... and a very large quantity of beer, even if he couldn't get drunk on it. Maybe he could get a kick peeing on something, somewhere... no... no... do that, and he'd only end up kicked off this station. Not a good thing, right now. No... right now, he needed a hole to hole up in, a place to spend the rest of his rut... alone. Yes, three... maybe four months out from under everyone's hide, if possible...

... and yet, he felt lonely... already isolated. Missed his friend Benovistol, the alien mystic who had saved his life... and given him hope, if an added complication to his life. Never had Pico imagined being horny could cause so much trouble... so much anger and strife... so much frustration, for so long. Still... he would not have given up his present state, even if he'd known. True adulthood... finally knowing what it felt like to be fully male... was worth the risk and discomfort and rejection. He felt so alive, so... complete. Even alone... even without a mate to take away the frustrations... this was better than living like a eunuch, Life's potential unfulfilled. At least now, he knew... if he ever found a female of his own kind... ever returned home, if the present Theocracy fell... yes, now he knew for sure... he could be a father, something he had feared he'd never be able to become, having lived so long in an immature state. Yes... he could only thank Benovistol, and spit on those who rejected him, with his strongest poison.

Instead, Pico dropped to all fours, raised his tail... raised his butt in the air... and mooned his former transportation, as it ran away. Then, he stood up, shook himself... snorted... and made his way into the station proper, wearing only his toolbelt and backpack, and blinking all three eyes at the sights around him....


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Pico returned the expression of keen intelligence, with a smirk that showed only a hint of tooth on his part. Yea... figures this station would have Gelt on it. Not that Pico disliked Gelt, just... this one was so cheery, he wanted to pour a bucket of saltwater on this one and watch him rust... shame this 'Geet' person wasn't covered in iron...

... of course, Pico could pee on him, and watch him twitch and gag....

No... no, that would not be... polite. He wanted a place of isolation, not a jail-cell, and peeing on the greeter would definitely get him in trouble with the law, especially if the Gelt's metal hide corroded down to the bone. Pico stared at Geet's bioelectric patterns, his look one of thoughtfull consideration...

... "Hmmmm...." Pico's voice gave off a distinct metalic echo... a purr of steel on steel... "I need to find good beer, fresh food, and a quiet hole to sleep in... preferably with plumbing able to handle strong acids and bioreactants. Don't want to... accidentally poison someone, hmmm? Yes, a bed with clawproof, droolproof sheets would be best...."

Pico grinned, showing off his full dentition... his feeler tongues licking around his nostrils, his head feelers flicking forward... ears turning and twitching, to take in every sound in the station. Just because he felt hot under the belt... just because the courier crew hadn't allowed him to help with ship repairs (don't ask)... just because he was a lonely Deek, far from any Home... his family long dead... he had no reason to be uncivil. His tail waved slowly, side to side... a slight shift in stance briefly skeeked his scytheclaws on the decking again, before he lifted them clear, nodded with his whole body... eyes briefly cast to the floor, before they stared at Geet again, intently bright with alertness... subarms folded against his chest, primearms loose... not hanging without purpose, but ready to be used for anything. Almost as if he might grab something nearby in his claws, at the slightest provocation...

... "And you may call me Pico..." he said...

... yes, in a predatory stance... relaxed, but on the hunt....


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Yes... on the hunt for food, beer and a bolthole. Anyplace to feed, sleep and hide in... anywhere private, where no one would notice him... where no one knew the word "Deek"... somewhere out of the hustle and crowds he now found himself in... yes, a private place, where no one would point or stare or whisper crude or offended remarks about his revealing body marks... hopefully some place that wouldn't grumble about the drool or possible wet-dream stains on the bedding. Some hole-in-the-wall that wouldn't complain about the nightmare induced claw marks on the bedposts, so long as the damage was paid for....

Pico followed Geet to the Junction Point... this station was huge, but Pico had traveled the galaxy for two centuries. He neither stared wide-eyed with wonder, nor trembled nervously at the hugeness... if anything, he simply yawned... and avoided being stepped on, avoided tripping anyone with his tail. Still... if he'd been looking for company, there was no lack of possibilities here...

... yet, for a moment, Pico's heart jumped into his throat. In the distance, he'd... he'd spotted a group of three Bha'Roo... two females, one very young male... but, they were visible only briefly... and... for a moment... Pico almost ran after them. He still missed Nikitsei, patron Second Mother... still grieved over her death in the crash. Yes... he'd have given up his chance to be fully male, just to see her alive again. She'd been one of the very few ever to treat him as an equal... to treat him as someone of value, to be loved for who he was. She'd... been like a mother to him, during their short friendship.

But... she was gone. It was no use chasing the past... he'd given her the proper rites due a Second Mother, when he'd burried her... like he'd burried the others. The Bha'Roo Patronage had already long been addressed on the matter, and given back their sympathies on his very private grief, while dealing with their own. Of all the species he'd ever met, the Bha'Roo held a very special place in his heart...

... and yet... no, he would not intrude.

Pico found he'd taken several steps in their direction, even though he could no longer see them. A quiet sigh exhaled, he turned back to Geet, and stepped closer... firing a last glance over his own shoulder, then returning Geet's look...

... "Yes... at least four months." He rubbed the inside of his primehand wrists against his hips (his spike sheaths itched), while his subhand claws scratched at his muzzle... "I need someplace private, away from the crowds. Nothing fancy, just a place willing to handle my special... needs. And a tavern with good beer... and kidney pie on the menu. I'm... fond of organ meats...." Pico turned his amber jade eyes towards the floor, ears and feelers laid back, as if in confession....


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Time had passed....

According to his internal clock, it was late "evening'. This... "jet lag", if you will, left Pico restless, and unable to sleep... or even settle down. His "lunch" at The Magdetckae (about four hours ago) had been excellent, but expensive... and he really hated using so much credit... it made him nervous, but it couldn't be helped. At least Accounting had been efficiently quick and helpfull in getting his debitor code processed, and it would only be two weeks... maybe a few days less, to verify his finances...

... and to pay off his debt.

Even though Pico had wanted privacy and isolation, he found himself wandering the levels... avoiding contact with any others out at this time of day, yes... but watching... wishing... curious. Exploring, poking into corners and cracks... sniffing, touching, looking... thinking... reading signs... and sniffing...

... yes, he smelled coffee brewing....

No, Pico was not hungry. He'd gorged a bit much... the food at The Magdetckae had been sooo good!... and he'd drunk quite a bit of a strong, dark ale... very rich and tasty, with a heavy foam... but, he'd taken a very long piss before leaving his quarters (about twenty minutes ago), and a few mugs of hot coffee washed over his tongue might help to also settle his internal restlessness... maybe... maybe a few eggs, to go with it.

Pico followed his nose....

It lead him to a diner... what looked to be a human-centric place, given the generous selection of Terran meals on the exterior menu display. Not that there weren't other species attempts at cooking listed, just as clear and bold... just... coffee was a Terran thing, at least this coffee was, by the scent. Yes... genuine Terran coffee... with a little cream and honey...?

Pico took a big sniff, not only of coffee, but of all the other scents comming from the diner... and points all around. Including the scent of a Hani... a male Hani, no less. Very unusual, and worth the unwanted contact risk entering the diner would bring... even if not for the thought of a hot mugfull of French Roast (or something Darker), on a slightly disturbed stomach.

Pico entered....

The place was not fancy... not even close to the quality level the Bosraatti maintained, by the look... but it was clean, tidy, and generous in its selections. And not very busy. Pico felt thankful the place was not packed... it didn't appear to be the "dinner" rush, yet... but this diner was also generous with its tablespace. Except... the clack of Pico's toeclaws stopped, as he hesitated, just inside the door... glanced at the very uncomfortable looking, very large Hani male, squeezed into one of the seats not far from where Pico stood (off to his right)... then, a glance around took in the other customers present... took in the stares...

... but Pico steeled himself. Despite his wants, he felt lonely... even the sight of warm bodies gave him some comfort, even if it came along with some nervous twitching. But... he still smelled coffee...

... and so continued his clacking walk to the counter, where he hopped up onto a stool, tapped his subhand claws on the counter... churred softly... and ordered a large mug of esspresso, along with a plate of scrambled eggs....


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No... Pico was definitely not large! Maybe if, at first glance, other eyes saw him that way... saw him as an oversized lizard, yes... but, no... he bore no genetic relationship to any lizard, or any other reptile. He could stand upright, to his full two and a half feet, as easily as he could stretch out on all fours (or all sixes)... his hide was smooth, not a scale in sight... his blood, warm... his face, just as expressive as a human's, if in different ways... yes... the more other eyes looked, the less like a lizard Pico appeared, the more like... like...

... well, his form certainly looked exotic, evey move showing the slide of solid, well developed muscle under his hide... the almost tattooed look of his natural blue markings, like cursive writing inked into his golden toned flesh. On display... naked, except for a slender "dress" belt and pouch, to hold his room key and credit card, slipped and fastened around his waist... Pico hid nothing from sight, his whole body radiating his feelings... by posture, movement and expression.........

Pico grimaced at his first sip of esspresso... bare and black. After licking lips and nose with all three tongues, he dressed his beverage with cream and honey... balancing the bitterness with richness and sweet, till it tasted perfect. A few minutes later his eggs came... and a human walked into the diner. Nothing unusual, no... but this human looked and smelled familiar... a face and scent caught in the crowd, maybe, while he was heading for Accounting earlier. Maybe because he looked and smelled like someone he'd known well, over a hundred years ago. For all Pico knew, this young male human could very well be the great great grandson of the person he'd known... from what Pico knew of human biology, it was possible. But... Pico twitched, ate his eggs, and glanced from Hani to Human... both having touched his curiosity.

They were sitting relatively close, near the front... Pico perched on his stool near the back, where the counter was... he'd already made sure to take a dose of neutralizer, before leaving his quarters... just in case... so he felt safe licking his plate clean. Wouldn't do to accidentally kill the diner's employees with toxic dishware....

Pico had the counter's server prepare another esspresso, and dressed it just like the first... after his ritual first sip of dark, bitter blackness. Then he hopped off his stool, mug grasped in primehand, toeclaws making a loud clack as his feet hit the floor... and with a sudden, wide, toothy yawn... feeler tongues curled out, the sound of his yawn echoing in his throat... he paced to the table where the Hani male sat... well, actually, he was cleaning up the mess of his spilled drink... so, Pico took a seat (without asking), and set his mug on the table. For a moment, Pico considered the irony... two lone males, both in a place they should have never been... one, so huge he barely fit in the chair, so tall he had to almost bend over to reach his own mug on the table (before his little accident)... the other, so small he looked like a lost child, so short he had to almost stand on his chair in a half squatting posture, gripping the edge of the table with his subhands, just to keep from falling chin-first on the table, as he leaned forward...

... "Hmmm... seems the two of us share a common aloneness, far from our origins...." Pico twisted a grin... "Strange, how the Universe works, hmmm?"

Pico settled back on his tail, and took a sip of his creamed and honeyed esspresso....

Then, he looked to the human... his ears and feelers twitched, while his amber jade eyes gleemed...

... "I'd recommend the liver and onions..." he commented, though he'd never eaten here before (yes, the eggs had been good)...

... then, Pico directed his attention to the Hani, again, noting the spilled drink...

... "If you want, order another... I'm buying...."


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Sleep... perchance to.........

Pico dreamed. He dreamed... his parents and siblings, alive... himself, a child again... laughing, playing... being loved and cared for.........

In bed, his body twitched, claws fully extended, rapid movements seen under tightly closed eyelids... jerking, snarling... teeth, exposed... tail, stiff.........

In his dreams, Pico relived the earthquake... relived again the collapse of his home... raw, broken stone... burrying his mother under tons of fallen hillside... his desperate digging... finding one of his mother's primehands, still warm and alive... grasping it, trying... trying so hard to dig her out, but... no... oh, no!... feeling the life fade from her hand... her flesh, grown cold and unmoving... not... not warm... not... alive, anymore... he... he was so small, so young... so... so weak and helpless... and... and...

... "Momaaaah!..." he screamed.........


Pico jerked awake with an unintelligible screech of raw anguish... all four hands flying to grasp his head, his body and limbs curled tight, shuddering... only several minutes later did his breath come in anything other than gasping sobs, the shudders... and twitches, of claw and limb... slowly fading, slowly easing... his grip on reality, like the grip on his head, bringing with it a different pain....

Yes, his claws, burried and tangled in his still damp mane, had pricked his hide... drawn the scent of his own blood into his awareness...

... this Dream turned Nightmare had... felt so vivid, seemed so real... more intense than usual... more close and alive than in the last hundred and fifty years.

Why... why did it have to strike so hard, right now? Why? Pico knew... knew his siblings... his mother and father... were long dead. He'd accepted his loss, as something he'd been unable to change... but... but why? Why did he feel so... guilty? As if... as if it had been his fault? How could... how could being a survivor... feel wrong?

Pico finally uncurled, and sat up on the edge of his bed... bedding rumpled, damp from his mane fur, slick with his drool. Blood oozed from the sixteen small wounds to his head, and they stung a bit, but his thick mane fur had prevented stains... and his footclaws had simply slipped along the bedcoverings, without snagging... without damage. Good... at least he wouldn't need to order more bedding, yet. But, still... his eyes were wet, his heart thumped... and he could still feel the cold stiffness of his mother's dead primehand, grasped in his own warm touch...

... as he sat, aching, on the edge of his bed.

Pico licked at all four hands... rubbed his face and muzzle in his palms, as he remembered... as his emotions calmed. Never would he forget, never would the pain go fully away... never would he let memories or grief drive away his life, his need and desire to live onward. If anything, it was the strength of such memories that kept him going, despite the loneliness. If... if he died, his family would have died in vain. His mother had saved his life for a reason... and that reason would always be locked away in his heart, a precious gift held dear.........

Air flowed in, out... in, out... Pico's chest expanded, contracted... he breathed deeply, wiped at his eyes and cheeks... found himself chuckling at his memories, not at his mother's death, but at the good times... the games with his brother and sisters, the affections of his mother... his father, always at her side....

Pico felt the warmth growing, as he remembered the affections of his parents towards each other... thought of the time he'd caught them in the act, late one night, when the thunder had frightened him into their nest...

... yet, despite the pleasantness of this warmth... without... without... someone, to share the warmth with... it was best not to let it go too far. He had enough of a mess to clean up, what with drool on his bedding and blood in his mane.

With a churr-huffed sigh, Pico slipped from his perch, carefull to lift his butt and swing his tail off the edge... his thoughts were stimulating enough, without the risk of rubbing a sensative spot. As he paced back into the bathroom... primehands carefully stroking his mane and feelers, wrists knocking his ears back... he found himself wishing... wishing, not for the first time... for... ohhh, for a Family of his own! A chance... just one chance... to find someone to love and cherish, to find someone to have children with, as his own parents had done... but, for now, all he could do was empty his bladder, step on the flusher switch, and return to his bedroom, to clean up the mess....

Fortunately, Bargtek physiology disliked chairs... they prefered to sit on the floor, meaning their tables were low to the ground. Low enough for Pico to use. His backpack and toolbelt had been set on this table last night... now, Pico rummaged through its contents, and removed a container marked with a biohazard sign. Touching the genocode locks, he opened the kit and selected what he needed...

... the bed received a dusting of neutralizer, to render his drool inert. Then, Pico retrieved his grooming kit from his pack, and selected the proper comb... slipped out a bottle from the biohazard container, and headed back to the restroom. His claw wounds had already stopped bleeding... wouldn't bleed again... so Pico set warm water to flow from the sink, wet his primehands, squeezed out a small amount from the bottle... lathered, then rinsed. Another towel took care of his wet mane, making it damp again...

... and another look in the mirror triggered memories.

Pico picked up his comb... carefully groomed the tangles from his mane. And, as he did so, he remembered his father... watched himself in the mirror, how closely he resembed him, in the style of his blue rut markings... the color and shine of his eyes... even his own scent reminded him of his father's, like a familiar cologne. Pico set the comb down, and snuffled into his towel... he felt a sense of pride, along with his grief. Oh, yes... how much he would give, if only his father could see him now! If only... if only he could see him even once, just to say goodbye.

Yes, Pico saw much of his father in himself... not just in his looks, but impressed into his heart... by a male determined to teach his offspring the value of thinking for themselves. A teaching Pico had... well, taken to heart. He stared at his reflection... remembered his father's lessons, one by one... nodding... touching the mirror, again... touched, inside. Pico felt the tears wanting to come, once more... but he was cried out, for now. And, in some ways, he was happy. He had his memories... good memories, warm memories. Yes, grief colored them, but they were there. As long as he remained alive, there was hope.........

Pico draped the towel over his shoulders... turned, and posed in the mirror, a slight smile on his face... and one sexy Deek, looking back out of the mirror in reflection.

The damp towel served well to wipe up the mess on his bedding... but Pico still felt tired, though the shock of his emotions... and his memories... had left him feeling horny. Strange, how remembered grief... such powerful sadness... always did that to him, even before his rut. Now... only now, however... did he possess the capability to do more than feel. But, it was a presently wasted potential... yet, like his memories, it was there.........

Pico tossed the towel onto the table, then returned to his bed... to sleep again... feeling warm, inside....


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Sorry if I got a little carried away... Image

All of the above examples are from the same site. It's dead now, but if interested, I can provide a link to the related threads. Thanks.........


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Edited by: Roose Hurro at: 12/14/06 2:28

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