Ai Lin’s RP Sample:

“You misunderstand me, Vira. Xana must be stopped. You’re the only one who can.”

How do you react to something like that? What are you supposed to say?

There was a loud bang as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the empty airship. Vira Eronwil hissed, each deep breath ragged and edging on a growl. She wanted so badly to take her anger out on the tiny cabin she was in, possibly the entire airship, light it ablaze and watch it burn…But what good would that do?

Vira slumped down onto the nearby bed, putting her head in her hands. Her ash brown and blonde hair fell in her eyes and she did nothing to push it away. The situation was insane, getting worse and worse by the second. Perhaps if Vira fell asleep on this tiny bed when she woke up the world would make sense again.

Xana had ill designs for the world of Cerost. She wished to rule it with an iron fist, to make everyone understand her way was the best way. A woman with an unknown past and rumors of being a sorceress, Xana had managed to trick and deceive her way into power of Paraoth, the most powerful country in the world. She had declared war on everyone, even announced her intention of killing an entire country, and would not stop until she had her way. How many would die for her designs? How many families ruined, how many orphans made?

And Vira, at best a warrior, defender of the planet and great magic wielder, and at worst a degenerate thief, was the only one who could stop her. That was what Headmistress Winter had told her, and Vira still could not believe it. Xana had proven invulnerable to everything…everything except a spell that was held in Vira’s hookblades. Vira was the only one in the world still proficient with the weapons…she was the only one who could trigger the spell.

Another angered hiss escaped through Vira’s teeth, her fists clenched, pulling at her hair. They all expected her to fight Xana. Of course they did, that was all Vira had ever been good at. Fight, steal, get in trouble. For years it had been what everyone hated about her. She was too violent, she was too crooked, and she would never make a good warrior. Did they ever stop to think about what she wanted? No one had ever asked her if she wanted to be forced into a life as a warrior, a defender of Cerost, a hero to go unsung for every good deed done. Yet she had done it, and had proven herself the most capable warrior and spellslinger. It was never enough, though. Vira’s friends (although she was hesitant to label them as that) would constantly reprimand her for her behavior, some had even called her ‘criminal’ to her face.

“What has the world ever done for me?” Vira looked up at the ceiling, almost expecting some sort of divine answer. Bitterness ran through her as blood ran through her veins. “You hate me. You’ve always hated me! Why am I the one you want to save everythin?”

Luck had never been on Vira’s side. This responsibility, this weight of the world, was just another example of the cruelty that Luck bestowed upon her. She didn’t want this. Just as she did not want what her life was, she did not want to save Cerost. Against her wishes she had fought in the war, she had fought the armies; she had fought every enemy they wanted her to. What good had any of that done? None. Because it was never enough. There would always be one more fight to have, one more spell to cast, and one more reason why Vira could not measure up to their standards.

Well, to hell with them! The world, and her so called friends, would have to solve their problems on their own. Vira would not be Destiny’s puppet, her strings pulling her to her inevitable demise at the hands of an insane woman. Snip, snip. Destiny would need a new marionette and Vira suggested starting with her friends. They were the heroes, they were the real deal. Vira…she was just a caustic scoundrel.

It was time to leave this tiny light wooden cabin she had learned to call her home. She would pack her clothes, take everything she could, and from there…who knows? Vira would let the road guide her wherever, it didn’t matter. All that matter was that she was away from here, away from the friends and Resistance that expected her to put everything aside for the world.

This time the world would have to save itself. Its only hope turned her back and walked away.

Luan Shu's RP Sample:

Ah, spring. The sun is shining, the flowers are in bloom…this looks to be a beautiful day thought Annette cheerfully, taking her daily walk in the park for her health’s sake. She watched the children play in the playground, the ducklings crying for and following their mother, the birds singing, and how lovers walk slowly and softly, hand in hand.

Everyone who was anyone was getting together at school during this time, even herself. Annette smiled as she began to think about the one she deeply cared for. How he smiled, how he laughed, how he held her hand, and his warm hugs, making her sigh dreamily. How perfect can springtime possibly be? she thought, smiling to herself about the tingles in her heart of just thinking about him.

She noticed a couple on the bench and how they exchanged whispers and kisses, provoking thoughts of her boy once again. Her eyes sparkled, admiring how they seem to fit into each others’ arms. However, there was one couple that didn’t seem to piece together quite right.

They were hiding behind a tree before Annette found them, refusing to reveal their relationship. There was lust in their eyes, the absolute picture of passion right before Annette. Suddenly, her eyes widened like two mouths that wanted to drink this picture in more from disbelief when she realized something.

Annette couldn’t hear the children in the park and she couldn’t hear the ducklings. She couldn’t see the strolls of lovers or hear the songs of little spring birds. All Annette could hear were the harsh breaths between the two and she watched how they kissed. Everything did not look natural at all.

Annette took a break at a bench, and she looked and studied the other, smiling couple. The two couples deeply contrasted at first. One was innocent, the other just wasn’t. One was full of heat, the other was simply sweet. The differences were easily seen yet striking, but both couples had one similar trait.

She took a deep breath and simply walked away; thinking, pondering, and theorizing why.



Annette was laying on her bed, thinking of her day. However, the memory of that one couple kissing kept appearing as if it was a fly in her mind. How raunchy she thought to herself with disgust. Then she sighed, thinking of the other couple. They really looked happy… How could she tell someone that their world found another one?

The tender couple looked adorable sharing secrets and little kisses. Nevertheless, she recognized the boy on the bench once she realized how both couples connected. The loving couple might as well had hid themselves from the world, it seemed to be more suiting. So then why did the couple fit?

Annette knew the boy on that bench very well. She knew his favorite food, color, and music due to her late night talks with her friend, her best friend. Her heart was torn, what was the right thing to do? Possibly ruin the couple, or let her close friend know of this scandal?

Annette glanced at the phone on her night stand, and she sighed. She slowly dialed a number into the phone, and then she gently pressed the “call” button. Cheating is cheating… It rang four times before Annette could think up the “right way” to say things.

“Hey Josie… I saw Ben at the park today…”

Akadi's RP Example:

Akadi Fuyong stood there staring into the distance when he got the message. Aeshima was always had a very weak body, but this is happening at the age of 8. What can I do? Akadi thought as he collapsed to the ground unaware of anything that was happening around him.

Akadi remembered his mother's dying request. The last words that she had ever said to Akadi flew through his mind and he realized what he had to do. "Akadi, *cough* you must protect and take care of Aeshima now that I am joining your father." He heard the message replay in his mind and it seemed to have no end in sight.

I will have no problem dealing with the surgery, but Aeshima is a different story. She probably wouldn't deal with it very well, but anything to help her in her time of need. Akadi knew that any pain that would normally be caused during this surgery to him would not affect him. Akadi had been born without the ability to feel anything that he touched. Although he was unable to feel anything like the earth beneath him, he was also unable to feel any pain.

Finally, a chance to use this trait that I was bron with for a good cause. I promised to always do whatever I could to protect Aeshima, even if it cost me my life. But if i go through with this, and something does go wrong I will never be able to realize. I would live thinking everythingwas okay, but I would slowly be killing. NO, I swore to mother that I would do whatever I could for Aeshima. It was mother's dying wish.

Alright, I have made up my mind. Akadi thought to himself as walked towards the medical facility in the area. Akadi never did like any place like this, he always felt that death surrounded the place and could be smelt in the air. This is for Akadi, remember why you are doing this, for Akadi. He saw hundreds of Earth nation soldiers who had been injured or killed in the war against the Fire Nation. For Akadi, this is for Akadi. Akadi thought as he began to have doubts. He walked up to the doctor. "I am going through with the surgery."

Thank you for posting your prompt. We will get back to you.



Tai Jian -[/b] You wake up and find yourself under a tree in the middle of the desert, with no memory of how you got there. The desert seems to stretch on for miles. How do you feel? What do you do?

Takano - You are lost in the woods. Describe what you see, hear, smell, and touch. Describe what you think and feel. Do not speak.

Kazikari - you have lost your favorite possession. You think you know who took but you are not sure, and you have no proof. What do you do? How do you feel?

Rajara - Someone close to you has made friends with some unsavory people. You think that they could have a bad effect on this person that is close to you. What do you do? How do you feel about this situation?

Tai Jian's sample:

Scenes flashed before his eyes, scenes that made no sense to his mind whatsoever. Occasionally noises, the screeching of the brakes of a car, a whispered conversation, and gunfire, accompanied these visions, though just as he recognized what they were, they faded into nothingness. Slowly, he drifted back into conciseness, and he vaguely became aware of particular sensations that made him feel out of place. At first, Troy noticed that the temperature was much hotter than comfortable and that his bed was much coarser than it should have been. "What did Ryan do to the hotel room last night? Change it to a beach or something? Whatever. At least today will be relaxing. No more meetings or company excursions..."

Just then Troy moved his arm, which he'd had under his head to use as a pillow, to stretch, but instead of feeling the smooth headboard which should have been there, he felt the coarse bark of a tree. In surprise and confusion, he bolted up, becoming more aware that his location was much different than the one he'd fallen asleep in. After rubbing his eyes to wake them up, he took a look at his surroundings, and just stared with a look of terror and dread plastered on his face. The only sight that he could see in whatever direction he looked was sand except for the random palm tree that he was leaning up against at the moment. Nothing was distinguishable in any direction; no sign of any civilization or even any indication on how he'd gotten into the desert. In despair, he sank down to his knees, landing in the sand with a soft "thud".

Tears started to form in his eyes, but with great effort, he held them back, save for one lone tear that slid down his cheek, landing in the sand underneath him. Feeling numb from his realization that he'd most likely die out here, he just sat there staring at the mark his tear had made in the sand, just watching until it had dried up. His apathy and lack of emotion continued, for he moved from staring down at the tear to staring up at the sky through the branches and leaves of the rouge palm tree. He watched as a lone cloud lazily floated across the sky, and for a while forgot the trouble he was in. When it was no longer in his range of vision, he was brought back to the situation at hand. "How the hell am I going to get out of this alive?" he thought to himself again in despair. It was then that he finally recognized what he was wearing; the clothes he had on where the ones he'd been wearing the previous night at the party. The memory of the party triggered a series of memories from that party as he tried to remember anything that could be a clue as to how he got to the tree in the desert. "Did someone drug me? I had my drink with me the whole time, or at least I think I did. I do remember getting in the car to go back to the hotel with Ryan, and man, was I plastered. Now that I think about it, I was a lot more drunk than I normally get, and I've never been as dizzy and disoriented as I was before, even during those massive frat parties. Someone must have slipped me something in my drink. Did it taste a little off? Was it a weird color? Oh man, I don't remember. I can barely remember all this. It's almost if my mind's still blocked up. What can I do now?"

Absentmindedly, he stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, and much to his surprise, he felt his cell phone and his blackberry still in his pocket. A sudden rush of excitement and relief flooded through his entire being simultaneously as he pulled out the two electronic devices. His relief turned to bitter disappointment as he looked over the cell phone; the battery was charged fully, but he had absolutely no reception whatsoever. He tried several times to call anybody with it, but to no avail. In frustration, he threw down the piece of useless equipment with vehement hatred and anger. A seed of hope remained that the blackberry would be of use, but that to had no reception, though there was a message on it from an anonymous source. The message only contained a few hateful words: This is what you get you f***ing b*****d! I hope you die slowly and painfully you f***ing b***h! See you in hell!

Troy had no idea who would have sent the message, and he felt even more depressed knowing that this was all some psycho's sick revenge plan. In his mind he'd all but given up at even trying to do anything but lay down, fall asleep and let death claim him. By this time his skin had already started to painfully burn in response to the sun's vicious rays, and his lips and mouth were completely dry from lack of water. Just as he was about to lay down and give up all hope completely, a rouge memory from his childhood popped into his head. It was of his older brother who had died of lymphoma when he was eight. Troy had only been five at the time, and had idolized his older brother. As his brother laid on his deathbed, he had asked Troy to promise one last thing to him before he died. "Troy," he said in barely a whisper, " I need you to promise me one thing. Promise me you'll live life to the fullest, taking in everything. Promise you'll live for the both of us. Carpe diem Troy, and always know I love you." With that, he closed his eyes and passed on, Troy crying silently as it happened.

He snapped back to reality, and found that he'd started to cry from the memory. "Jason, I will not let you down," he muttered to himself, half-delirious. "I'm gonna get out of this and continue to live for the both of us. Wait and see. We'll be at a club by tomorrow night. Don't worry. We'll make it." He slowly picked himself up off of the ground, brushing off some of the sand that still clung to his clothes. After ripping the bottoms of his pajama pants off and using them as a head band, and turning his t-shirt into a makeshift turban, he spun around in a few circles until he was thoroughly disoriented, or at least more than he was before. Finally he became so dizzy he fell face-first into the sand. Once the dizziness subsided, he stood up and headed in the direction he fell, heading off for salvation. "I'm going to make it for the both of us bro," he mumbled to himself, almost incoherently, and started to walk.

Lieutenant Lee's RP Sample:



Richard stared from his spot on the park bench, watching children casting their lines into the small pond, people and their dogs playing fetch, groups of teens and pre-teens hanging out, eating picnics, and skateboarding. Wherever he looked, people laughed, played, had as much fun in the sun as they could get before fall was fully here.

Except for him. He was the lone exception to the happiness that permeated the area. He’d come to Virginia with his father, the millionaire head of a bio-engineering company called BioCorp, full of hope. He thought it was a chance to start over; new friends, new hobbies, new life. That all ended on the first day of school, one week ago.

His father had insisted that he wear his best clothes; Armani shirt, patent leather shoes, designer pants, and a white gold Rolex. Then, daddy dearest had insisted on getting Johnson, their chauffer, to drop him off at public school in a Rolls Royce. Richard hadn’t dared defy his father: Stephen G. Steward was not a man to be crossed, in the business world or in family life.

The other high schoolers had stared. Goths, jocks, nerds, and druggies alike had turned their heads. A new kid at Walt Whitman High? No big deal. One who drives up in a Rolls Royce, wearing clothes that cost more than their parents earned in a month? That was a rather big deal. Most kids took to the idea that he was a snob, just another rich kid who wanted to shove his money in their faces. He sat in the back of all his classes, ate lunch alone, and was jeered at behind his back. Most kids called him Richie Rich, or just Rich for short.

Richard grimaced and stood from the park bench. The happiness all around was tearing at him, making it even more painfully obvious that he was alone and hated.

After day one, he started wearing regular, run-of-the-mill clothes from the Gap and such, but his first impression, coupled with his continued arrival in either a Rolls Royce or another of his father’s rich-person’s cars, still made him an outcast. Even the other rich kids wouldn’t talk to him; his father was easily ten times richer than their parents. They lived in large houses; he lived in an actual mansion, with more than thirty rooms. He hadn’t even counted them all yet, and it seemed bare even with all the antique and imported furniture cluttering most rooms. His mother had died when he was two, so it seemed eerily empty with just him and his dad, like the haunted houses you saw in Scooby Doo episodes.

Richard kicked at a stray piece of paper fluttering in the light wind as he walked towards the entrance of the park. He’d never had problems like these before. In Silicon Valley, at a private high school, the other kids had been as rich as him or richer, but in northern Virginia at a poor public school, he was detested for his father’s success. No matter how nice and friendly he’d been, all of his advances had been rejected from day one. Kids would tell him to go buy a friend, or make some other smart comment about his money. After the second day of countless retorts and rich jokes, he’d given up and resigned himself to being a social leper.

He didn’t even know why he’d come to this park. Parks were for going with friends and family. He had no friends, and his dad loved his work more than him. He supposed that, on some unconscious level, he wanted to reaffirm that despite his sorrow some people still lived happy lives, hung out with friends, and goofed off. It was a fool’s errand, though. Going to the park only made him feel worse.

You know what, though? ,he thought to himself. Who cares, anyways? Why should I care if the other kids don’t like me? Bottom line is they’re a bunch of broke losers that’re just jealous.

For some reason, this pep talk of sorts didn’t help much either. He just had to face it; he did care, regardless of what he told himself. He craved friendship, needed it. Everyone in the area hated him for superficial reasons, so he had no chance of ever making friends. What could he possibly do?

Richard arrived at his manor, three blocks from the park he’d just left. The columns on the porch and brick walls, shaded by massive oaks that had shed most of their leaves, truly made it seem haunted. He sighed and trudged up the long walkway that led to the front door.

After he’d shut the door behind him, he went up the grand staircase, made from shining mahogany, and took the first corridor that led to his room. On the way, something shiny in an open doorway caught his eye.

Opening the door further, Richard gazed upon his father’s workshop. To correct his earlier ruminations, his father loved two things more than Richard; his work and his carpentry. His dad would come in here for hours after work, making stools, side tables, cabinets, whatever struck his fancy.

The thing that had caught his eye was an X-Acto knife, lying half-extended on the worktable. Walking over, Richard picked it up. The razor edge gleamed in the light from the hallway. Turning the steel in his hands, Richard stared into space, thinking about his problems. All he wanted now was a way out of his situation…

He glanced to the blade again, before slowly, carefully, gently grasping it in his right hand. He held his left hand, palm up, for inspection. Small blue veins delicately pulsed right beneath the skin of his wrist. Suddenly, Richard decided. He lay his hand down, still palm up, on the table, and held the blade a few inches from the wrist in now-shaking fingers. He’d had enough.

Some might call him petty; throwing everything away just because he had no friends, but he realized that he’d decided on this course of action years ago, when he had first realized that his father didn’t love him and no one really liked him, except for his money.

His hands stilled with his surety, and with a slight swish-thunk, the blade fell.

Li Mei -[/b] You are in a foreign communciations center. No visual, only audio. You hear your crew screaming for help, but you do not know where they are at, and you can't see them. What do you do? How do you feel?

Hyo Sun-Li - You are playing a video game entitled "Samurai Night", and suddenly the main villian steps out of the television screen and challenges you to a fight to the death. What do you do? How do you feel?

Shancora - You are on a vacation in the mountains when a blizzard comes. All the doors and windows are impassable due to the snow outside, and you are stuck inside with your worst enemy for quite a while until you can be rescued. You have all the food and water you need to get you by. How do you feel? What do you do?

Katara's RP Sample

[/u][/center]

Death and time were funny things.

Not funny in the humorous sense, but funny as in strange. All through life, death is something no one looks forward to, but when the moment comes, it is accepted, oft with open arms. And time! How fast it seems to go at the most inopportune times; and yet, when one wishes for it to accelerate, it slows down to snail's pace. When the oddities of death and time combine ... the most horrid experience of your life becomes etched into memory, unforgettable, its details replaying in an endless gruesome cycle.

Kaoru gripped her kimono tightly, witching in horror as the man fell. It seemed like and eternity passed before his body touched the grassy expanse. Oddly enough, Kaoru noticed the details of his descent in minute detail — his back archingl the sword tumbling out of his grasp; Kenshin's sakabatou sprouting like a morbid flower from his chest. Then everything was fading, draining away like Jin-e's life. Kaoru couldnt breathe; the "shin no ippo" the Kuragosa cast was claiming her... his last victim in a torrid saga of death. She couldn't breath; her vision clouded. Kaoru could feel her eyes start to roll back into her head.

Then, it stopped. Her lungs were released from their bindings, working hard to inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, air, glorious air! Never again would she take breathing for granted. Thank goodness that Kenshin —

Kenshin.

The young woman turned her azure gaze to the red-headed samurai. A sinking feeling overcame Kaoru, like she had just swallowed a fairly large rock. Kenshin had broken his vow never to kill again. Only — that wasnt Kenshin, was it?

No, she decided, gazing at his narrowed eyes and shivering from his deadly aura. The man she was looking at wasnt Himura Kenshin; it was Hitokiri Battousai, the famed assasin of the Bakumatsu. Kaoru turned her face, hiding her tears. Never again would he be the friendly, swirly eyed rurouni, her best friend, the man she'd come to love. No, he was gone forever, lost in the black abyss of a killer's heart. As a swordsmaster herself, Kaoru could sense the irrevocable change in him... and knew he'd not return to the dojo that night — nor would he ever.

A strong gust of wind passed through the forest clearing, moving the clouds. Brightly shining, the moon cast its silvery light upon them all. Kaoru remained kneeling in the shrin. Even with Jin-e's mind control gone, she couldnt move. Danger still radiated from Kenshin's — no, Battousai's — body. Kaoru bowed her head, her ebony locks falling over her eyes and around her shoulders. Anger filled the young woman's heart; anger at Jin-e, for starting the whole thing; anger at Kenshin for not controlling the Battousai within; and anger at herself, for not being strong enough to break free of Jin-e's control.

Such weakness! As master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, Kaoru prided herself on her strength. She realized now that while her body was strong, her sould was weak. Weak! How she despised that word! And now, because of her weakness, her best riend had killed a man to save her.

Guilt set in. Kaoru doubted that even Hitokiri Battousai could escape a murder charge in the Meiji Era, what with the sword ban. If only she had stayed at the dojo! But no, she just had to put herself at the center of this mess. Kaoru cursed her impulsivity, tears filling her eyes once more as she stared at Battousai's forbidding sillouette. For one moment, she caught his gaze — and shuddered violently. The bloodlust was still there; he looked as if he'd devour her.

Despite everything, Kaoru was flattered. To think, Kenshin threw away everything to save her... and she was instantly disgusted with herself. Flattery was fleeting; she'd have the rest of her live to mourn the loss of the rurouni. Tears cascaded down her pale cheeks, glistening in the light of the full moon. Somewhere, a mockingbird sang, living up to its name and sining a sweet melody to the carnage that was before her.

The first wave of nausea hit so suddenly that Kaoru was caught unprepared. She vomited, gagging as the metallic stench of blood finally reached her nostrils. Over and over she lost it, until she was left with naught but dry heaves, clinging so tightly to the edge of the shrine that her knuckles turned white. The silence stretched on, engulfing the space between the two survivors, broken only by the mockingbird and Kaoru's own ragged breaths.

What was going to happen now? With Battousai corrupting his soul, Kenshin wasnt going to stay at the dojo anymore, no matter how Kaoru insisted. She knew that... but what to do? She couldnt leave Yahiko. That shrimpy brat had no one; Kaoru couldnt... just couldnt....

Suddenly, it was all too much. "Ken....shin..." Kaoru choked out, her crying starting anew. Balling her fists, the obsidian haired maiden slammed them into the shrine's edge. Sobs racked her whole body, sending tremors through her every limb.

Dispair settled in, quieting her tears; it was a new chapter in her life. Kaoru brushed away the tears with the sleeve of her kimono, dampening the floral-patterned material. Her best friend, the rurouni, the love of her life, was no more. Only Battousai remained. That was her reality; what she'd do about it depended on the cross-scarred man himself. Steadying her nerves, Kaoru raised her eyes to his once more, steeling herself against emotion, and waited for him to speak.[/color]

Shikimori - Your post was good, but there was way too much "he"'s for my tastes. I said in the rules no controlling other characters, don't repost your prompt, and don't go ooc, and you did you all three. DENIED. Go back to Battle Training now or finish your Romance Training.

Aioria - I know you could have done better, but that's precisely why I passed you . I know that you won't let me down. ACCEPTED.

Shizune - Good but too much of other character interaction, when I said no controlling other characters. Good writing, though. DENIED. Go back to the Battle Training or do the Romance Training.

Kazuma - Good start to a post, too many "he"'s. Start sentences with something else other than he or your character's name. Start them creatively, and there were also a few confusing parts in there as well. DENIED.

Ren - Nice. Your post was very good, and touching. Good job. ACCEPTED.

Ai Lin - Very nice. Fantastic. Realistic. Excellent job. ACCEPTED.

Luan Shu - Original, and not your average run-of-the-mill post. Good writing. Captiving. Interesting. You couldn't tell what was going on until the end. Good job. ACCEPTED.

Akadi - Having your character not feeling pain defeats the purpose of a prompt which involves a painful memory. Remember in the rules it says it is not limited to Avatar, and in Avatar there were no kindey transplants. They didn't have the technology. Also, watch grammar (was always had) and you switched names at the end. DENIED.

Tai Jian - Good writing and well-written. Good description. LIked adding the technology, and then taking it away., and the deliriousness at the end was realisitic. ACCEPTED.

Lee - Oustanding. Amazing. I liked the dark tone at the end. It appealled to me. *cackles* Very good. Go. RP. ACCEPTED. Oh, and btw, I want to commend you for posting a longer post than Katara, who has dubbed herself the Queen of Uber-long posts. Congrats. Go you. (Wait... does that make you the king?)

Katara - Compared to your earlier posts here, this is off the chart. Let's face it.... you weren't good. Now, you're excellent. Great job. ACCEPTED.

Shancora's RP Sample

Looking outside all she saw was white. The blizzard barricaded not only all the doors to the cabin but all the windows as well.

“Some vacation this turned out to be.” Shancora mutters to herself as she flops into a chair in the cabins main room.

Looking around all she sees is wood, wood and her least favorite person in the world, Nancy. Somehow the two of them had ended up sharing not only a cabin but they had been assigned to share the same room. Shancora had figured it wouldn’t be too bad, after all she could just spend most of her time outdoors and away from that….girl.

She picked up the book she had been reading earlier, but quickly lost interest in it. Nancy came bouncing into the room, her hair up in curlers and something green spread across her face. Shancora barely muffled a laugh as her roommate sat ever so gently on the couch opposite of her.

Rolling her eyes Shancora glanced back at her book, but decided to not even try to read it again. She wanted to play a game, but that wasn’t going to happen, certainly not with this person.

“Gah, what is that stench? What do you have on, it smells horrible.” She didn’t even wait to hear a response; quickly she left the room; whatever Nancy was wearing it reminded her of gym socks that had been left in the locker for far too long.

Storming into her room, well their room, Shancora looked around for something to do, flipping on the TV she hoped to find something at least remotely entertaining, but instead all she saw was snow, there was apparently no signal. The snow probably knocked over the antenna, or else was blocking any signal from reaching it. Sighing, Shancora looked around for a DVD or something she could play or listen to, or something. Finally she found a video, but grew bored with it since it was the only one that hadn’t been busted when she and Nancy had gotten into yet another one of their fights.

Irritated she looked around the room, but found nothing. They, the class group, were suppose to leave tomorrow to return home, but the only way that was going to happen was if by some miracle the snow cleared up in time, and somehow she just did not see that happening. Exasperated, Shancora laid down on her bed to take a nap, hoping that would help pass away at least some of the time.

Her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were hopes that maybe someone would find them and rescue them.

Waking up she found herself being shook and her name being called.

“Huh? All right already, I’m awake, what the hell is going on?”

Nancy, along with the other four girls that they shared the cabin with, stood beside her bed. They explained that rescue teams had been sent to collect the class. Apparently they had been trying to wake her up for several minutes.

Quickly she collected her stuff, shoving things into her bag as quickly as she could. Once she had gotten everything she could see and remember they all gathered in the main room. Looking around she saw that someone had apparently cleared a path to their window and there was a person opening up the window. One at a time they were helped out of the window and they followed each other. As she followed the girl in front of her Shancora was happy to see the rest of the class gathered not too far away. Once she was with the group she waited anxiously for everyone to be collected so that they could get back home and she could get away from Nancy. This was one vacation she would never forget and it was certainly one she never wanted to repeat.

Thank you, Shancora. Karena and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Ressei's Prompt - You are hiking by yourself in the desert when you are transported to what seems to be anotehr world, much like earth. You are in a jungley place with only the clothes on your back, a compass, a pocketknife, and a box of matches. There is a large beast on the outskirts of the jungle, ready to devour you if you try to leave. Describe how you survive the first day and night. How do you feel? What do you do? What do you see? (But dont limit yourself to just that!)

Tyche's Prompt - You are physically dead. Yet, your spirit hoves over the scene of your death. How do you feel? How do you react? What do you do?

Only in isolation, where the barren straits of desert land encircled the most remote location away from civilization, could any man find his true self. Away from life and love, it is so rumored that within these lands that he may even glimpse upon what is and has never been, and in it, find a sense of purpose in life...

—

Any man...

The rampant wind which tore endlessly against the dry and dusted plains felt little resistance running through the small crouched figure in the distance. A man, barely resembling one, lay bent over in the pits of sand, knees angled so low that each sagging step forwards seemed to take all his effort. Thin bundles of dyed pale skin sheets were the only barriers between him and the elements, blanketing his entire form as to ward off both sun and air. For days, these same elements toiled with him; creating scorching temperatures that yielded no breeze for relief or frigid nights where frost would appear hanging at his every breath.

Find his true self...

Just as all source of hope had begun tp disappear, where despair began to fill the void, one more weary step yielded a spectacular result. Slow at first, the sensation of the wind began to peel away from his skin; a lulling calm breeze once felt back home now moving between the sheets of cloth. The sliver of space allowed between his cowl and head dress which seldomly allowed any picture other then a bright blur of clouded sand now filled with color. Reds, blues, and lush greens; colors unfamiliar to these lands all appeared, stretching wide across the landscape in long flowing lines with such vibrancy. In the time it took for his own hazel colored eyes to adjust to this wonder, the larger image finally appeared in full form. This was no desert, at all. This was...

"...The Land of the Ancients,"

A hoarse, choking voice muttered out as all the sheets fell in ribbons, flowing away from his body until nothing but his former outfit remained. Long silk patterned slacks, adorned in the markings of an amytheyst crystal, strode forward completly upright for the first time. The studded jacket which he wore, shimmering in flinted gold, fell past his sleeves and hung over his sleeves. A crown, adorned with unearthed sharpened jewels, rested heavy against his brow, pushing the thick eyebrows low against his forehead. The only object of his own, not offered up at the hands of his own people's labor, were the tanned sandals he wore underneath his feet; even if they were still covered by the regal garments.

What is and has never been...

Fingers, resembling round tiny nubs more then digits, poked and prodded against the wealth of uprooted vegetation that hung just as dense in the air as the former sand. The fantastic exchange from pure desolation to a world that he had never could have dreampt up before still had its effects on the rounded belly man, fairly cautious about moving from his starting spot. Ever so slowly did he muscle across the long stalks of tree trunks, paying close attention to the saturated vines and leaves that clung to bottoms of his feet.

[The more he traveled onwards, the more heavy a sensation came slapping across his thighs each time he extended his legs forward and back again. Worn, dreary eyes gazed down to see that sewn into the slacks was a pouch containing something fairly sharp. Cautiously slipping a hand inside, he removed the object, holding it up to the light to get a better look, squinting hard as he did.]

["Why, it's nothing more then a pocket knife," The man spoke with a sense of relief, feeling a bit deeper into the pouch to discover several different objects, A rounded compass and a box of strike matches, easily ignited, fell into his palm. Needless to say, he was overjoyed at seeing such tools available at long last. Nights in the desert could have been warmed by the glow of a fire, wasted effort toiling back and forth in the desert could be fixed at the direction of a compass; the possibilies were endless. Now was his chance to correct his former mistakes in this new environment.]

[The pocket knife deftly chopped at the vines where he stood, sawing off thick chunks and piled it against the roots of a tree that sprouted up, roots that were high and dry from the moist earth below. Making a giant balled web of sorts, he first held a lit match underneath a small twig, handing off the smallest of flames to other sections of the pillar of vines, before in a few minutes, it began to smoothly burn consistently.]

["Ahhh..." A very sore back gave way at last, landing on the soft soil beneath him without regard to keeping his regal garments tidy any longer. He was tired and here he would remain. The soothing cackle of the fire, the warmth in an area that felt so cold, lulled him to sleep, arms and legs widespread on his back. His slumber did not last long before the once comfortable heat began to become a fiery mass of light that exuded such intense heat and smoke. Panicking, he fled back, only to step in some water nearby. Conveniantly, the man sprung to action, shredding part of his outfit to cup the water and cast it onto the fire. Despite how large it was, the many trips back and forth calmed its fury and finally extinguished, becoming more then a charred ash heap. Once more, a sigh of relief escaped his lips, content for now that he avoided burning the trees he began to know so well by appearance and markings now to the ground...]

The only disadvantage of the jungle scape was the lack of telling time accurately. So thick were the very branches which sheltered the sun that they nearly blocked it entirely with their wide palm leaves, leaving pockets of sunlight to fall down upon his face as he manuvered across the ground, still huddled over. The shorter man kept his arms close to his chest at times as to not prick the sharper vines which he encountered, already leaving their painful mark across his back in a series of small cuts against the regal outfit he had been fitted with. The cumbersome attire became so irritating, the sharpened crown cutting against his skin and the puffy slacks dragging sharpened vines behind his legs, that he began to tear into the silk cloth.

Anger twisted in him as he let a shrill to be heard for miles, tiny fingers tearing against his body to remove the jacket and slacks piece by piece, falling as ribbons to the floor, until just his undergarments and sandals remained. He stood, chest heaving up and down, while his battered and hairy body exuded sweat and odor. Soon after, the stout man rolled his eyes tp the back of his head and fell suddenly into a pool of water, unconscious, the sharpened crown rolling away and sinking into its depths.

Purpose in life...

Movement persisted in the jungle, constantly teeming with life, but never before as this. It was a fast, fluid sound that trampled across the muddled earth in quick successions that moved away each time it was heard. A shadow, growing in mass, loomed across the neutral landscape until it came across the crystal blue pond waters. The former shadow escaped to light and became a figure. An old and mighty elk, fur as long and curled as the vines around him, approached the fallen man, using the end of its nose to pry the man awake.

A long and heavy groan escaped him as a hand, soaked in the muddy shore waters, stretched across his face. In a frantic daze, he turned about in the water, lapping up the cool liquid against his body in effort to scare away whatever had touched his body last.

"Do not be afraid... I am the Guardian of the Dreamworld, the sole link between this world and the one you reside in," A mysterious voice, not one suiting the elk kin spoke, not even coming from the animal's mouth or lips, "The ones who sent you here, they put this on you, did they not?"

Upon its raised hoof, the massive beast lowered the edge of the crown gently pack upon the head of the man in a very kind gesture, smiling as it did so. The man, unable to speak at this fantastic creature, was in pure shock, falling to his knees in the shallow depths of water.

"They assumed me to be a man, as well — apparently one quite large and wonderous. To appease me with such taudry gifts of materials in order to save their own horde of possessions from foreign seizure... it is pityful, really."

The ribbons of the former regal outfit circled around them, drifting across the surface...

"You are courageous to travel such lengths to bring me these goods on their behalf, but they will not appease me for what they did or what they continue to do. I have seen it all. Your people dream of wealth and greed; so much so that they send their poorest peasant as a sacrifice in order to gain my trust and beseige the minds of their enemies."

"...But you, dear friend," The wonderous animal slowly began to approach him further, craning its neck lower to the surface of the water, "You wish only what is best for them, not ever thinking of yourself. It is for this reason that I will let you leave here with this,"

A magnificant flower, sprouted at the vine that rested at the bottom of the shallow pool's depths, was pried out and held in the elk's mouth out to the honorable man.

"Take this flower and hold it up against the sunlight. Your answer lies on the other side... Take care."

A swollen, shaking hand was delivered to pluck the flower stem from the elk's mouth, rearing back in both horror and astonishment at the beauty he now possessed. Following his directions, a spotlight came descending from the jungle's canopy and shinned down upon his form. As it did, he held the petals high as his arms could muster into the light, squinking down hard in fear as to what may happen...

...He slowly began to open his eyes after a couple seconds, anxious and curious at the same time as to what may be on the other side. When he did eventually open his eyes, the developed land of his people disappeared, yet the landscape remained. Trees hung tall everywhere, houses built nearby in sheltered coves. The tyrant king was no more, as if the whole experience never took place, and had been reborn a simplier place; a place of his fantasy, where propsperity were held in much more simpler portions, they way he was...

—

"This is it... This is land of my people, the way it always was and ever shall be..."

—

Silence.

Tyche opened his eyes. It was all suddenly so quiet. All the noise from before, the yelling, the screaming. Gone, all gone. This struck Tyche as so absurd, he quickly looked around. He was in the same place as before, all the same people, but, something was wrong. It was all silent. Not a thing could be heard. Tyche stood slowly. There were many other things wrong. For one thing, he felt so, light. Like he could just fly away. For another, no one was looking at him, no one even glanced his way. Tyche looked down at the ground, and gasped. His feet were not touching the ground. He was, floating.

Slowly, he was drifting higher. What magic was this? Then, suddenly, his mind was drawn. Something else was gone. He felt nothing. All the pains and aches of life. The agony he had felt, not more then a few minutes earlier, all gone. What was going on. He tried to remember what had happened. He wanted to know why this was happening to him. Why? His gaze turned again to the people, gathered around, something. What were they all looking at?

Slowly, he was drifting higher in the air. More people seemed to be gathering. In a few minutes, Tyche knew he would be able to see what they were all looking at, but, did he want to? For some reason unknown to him, Tyche felt some reluctance to see. To know what it was. He didn't know why, he just did. In a few seconds he would be high enough to see. Tyche closed his eyes, and then opened them.

At first, he did not understand what he saw. It just didn't register in his mind. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he understood. He was gazing at himself. Lying, face up, as if asleep. Then, the memories flooded in, almost too much to bear. He knew now, what had happened. He was dead. He was now high above the ground. He was dead. Still drifting upward. He was dead.

Silence.

Yi Feng’s RP Sample

Sunlight crept through the closed blinds of rather small window. The narrow rays of light struck the floor of the room; littered with dirty, week old, clothes and random crumbled up papers. The rays of light slowly approached the bed, lighting up the small particles of dust along the way. Sprawled out on the bed laid a half clothed Ken; his neck length hair was a dark brown greasy disheveled mess, covering his sleeping face.

The loud screeching beeper of the alarm clock went off as the digital display read 7:00am. The siren pierced Ken’s ears, causing his eyes to shoot open. His pupils shrunk instantly, causing his deep ocean blue Irises to grow equally fast. The sunlight was now at his face, shining into Ken’s freshly open eyes. Burning pain filled his eyes as he quickly closed his eyelids, trying to shield their sensitivity from the light. Ken threw his arm at the alarm clock and managed to hit the snooze button with the side of his arm. He rolled over onto his side and attempted to fall back asleep. Minutes later the alarm went back off, filling the room with the loud ear piercing siren. Ken let out a low grunged groan as he slammed his hand down on the top of the alarm clock, shutting it off.

Ken rubbed his eyes and sat up, and scratched his bare chest. He stretched out his arms and let out a long satisfying yawn. Ken slowly got out of bed, stepping on the piles of rejected essays that lay crumbled on the floor. Slowly, Ken made his way to the bathroom door, located on the other side of the room. He slammed open the door and walked in. He curled his toes as the soles of his feet made contact with the cold tile of the bathroom. Ken flipped on the shower and closed the door.

Twenty minutes later, Ken walked out of the streaming bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He ran his finger threw his messy hair as he looked around the room for a set of clothes. He reached on the ground and pulled up a used pair of faded blue jeans and a semi clean red shirt and threw them on the bed along with a clean pair of socks and underwear. He heard the front door open and close as his mother left for work, leaving him alone in the house. Ken sighed and got dressed.

About 15 minutes later, Ken walked out the front door of his moderately sized suburban house. The morning air was cold and brisk, causing a small chill to run up his spine. Ken rubbed his fingers through his hair, messing it up. Luckily for him, the bum look was the new popular thing; with the faded pants and wrinkled shirt. Ken locked the door and put the earphones of his ipod into his ears. He ran down the small steps towards the main street to catch the cross town bus, with heavy metal blasting into his ears.

As the bus approached the stop, Ken looked around. Something odd caught his eye. Why am I the only student waiting for the bus?, thought Ken as he looked at his watch. He wasn’t late, nor was it a weekend. Ken shrugged it off and boarded the bus, taking his familiar seat near the rear exit. The bus lurched forward as Ken slowly nodded his head to the heavy metal flooding his ears.


The bus arrived at the front of his school and Ken stepped off the bus and onto the cement sidewalk. Lines of mini vans and SUV’s could be seen dropping off kid after kid after kid. Ken walked over to his usual hang out near the lunch tables. Hopefully his friends would be there to “lend” him the answers to last night’s calculus homework. Before Ken could reach the lunch tables, the warning bell rang across the campus. Ken groaned and turned to the main building, completely oblivious to the world around him. He pulled open the beaten up doors and walked down the long locker lined hallway towards his locker.

A disturbing chill rushed up and down Ken’s spine. It seemed like everyone was watching him. The feeling of hundreds of pairs of eyes drilled their way through Ken’s soul. Ken broke his daze and quickly glanced around the hallway. Something was terribly wrong. Everyone was wearing white. Not off white, but snow white. Ken’s heart started to race as he quickly pushed his way through the people in the hallway. It became really hot and stuffy around Ken. He finally reached his locker and rested his head against its cold steel door. Ken shut his eyes and lightly banged his head on the locker.

What’s going on?! Everyone is wearing white!! Everyone! They’re all looking at me… how embarrassing!, thought Ken as his face turned a bright red from embarrassment.

Ken could feel his chest tighten, causing his breathing to become shallow and rapid. He quickly shook his head and fiddled with his lock; his hand shaking uncontrollably. Ok, calm down its ok. This has to be a joke… yes that’s it… it’s a joke. Kari probably arranged this. , thought Ken as he sighed in relief. He grabbed his English Book from his locker and closed the door. His face returned to its normal light tan color, as his heart slowed back to normal. Ken turned off his ipod off and pulled out his earphones. Ken expected to hear the busy sounds of the hallway replace the heavy metal but only silence was heard.

Ken could feel his heart starting to quicken in pace. His hands stated to tingle as the only thing he heard was the mindless chatter of the drama queen with the locker next to his. But something wasn’t right. She was talking, but only gibberish came out. Ken stepped c loser to the girl and tried to understand what she was saying. The girl had long black silk hair, tired back with a white ribbon. She never wore her hair back, or white clothing. Ken’s heart immediately kicked into overdrive and Ken tried to step back from his locker only to trip from the ascending numbness in his legs. Ken fell flat on back. Sweat dripped from every pore on his face, and his chest became even tighter, causing his breathing to be shallower. Ken crawled always from his locker and tried to stand up. He managed to return to his feet and glare around at all the people in the hallway. None of them noticed the little escapade. All of them had large tooth filled smiles plastered on their faces and staring off into the distance mindlessly.

Panic filled Ken’s head as he dropped his book and backed himself against the wall. Nothing was right here. The streams of non understandable gibberish filled the thick hallway air. Thousands of undistinguishable thoughts rushed in and out of Ken’s brain. He didn’t know what to do. He was drowning in a sea of emotions and panic. Ken tired to rationalize the oddity of the situation. He tried to slow his breathing and relax, but failed at both. His palms became sweaty and the loud fast thumping sound of his heart filled his ears. Ken slowly banged his head against the wall.

The final bell rang, shaking Ken out of his trance. He had to get out of this school, he could afford losing one day of school, especially this day. Ken tried as best he could to take a deep breath; he needed all of his courage to get out of here. He stood up and started his descent into the crowd. His heart was racing, never before had he been so scared. This all seemed to be a bad dream, something not normal or right. Ken quickened his pace as his eyes focused on the emergency exit of the building leading to the street. He violently shoved his way through the crowd; feeling like a fish swimming upstream. The walls seemed to close in on Ken as he pushed his way through; almost crawling over people.

The exit was almost insight. The air seemed to grow thicker and thicker with every step Ken took. Ken could feel his chest growing tighter and tighter. His vision grew more distressed, and his body began to feel physically weak and ill. Seconds seemed like hours to Ken as he grew closer and closer to the large red emergency door. He reached the end of the crowd and plowed through the heavy steel door. Sirens sounded loudly as the alarm was tripped, but Ken didn’t care. He continued his sprint across the small grassy knoll and didn’t stop running until he was in the middle of the street. His heart slowly returned to normal and his breathing. Sweat still poured from his face as he buckled over on the warming black asphalt. Ken took many long deep breaths.

Everything will be fine now…, thought Ken as he stood entranced in his own twisted thoughts, failing to notice the large bus rapidly approaching. Ken’s trance was broken by the loud rasped honking of the bus’s horn. He gazed lifelessly as the bus barreled down on him, the bright flashing lights blinding him. Ken, unable to move, closed his eyes and lowered his head as the bus grew closer and closer.