Post by Administrator on Mar 27, 2010 0:18:20 GMT -4
Name:Zach
Character's Name:Demetri Volturi
How far have you gotten into the series?: I've read the enitire thing at least three times
How often would you be able to participate in the RPG?: they are like, my life, so...
If you are not selected for this character, who else would you like to be?Anyone. I love all the characthers.
Is there any particular reason for choosing this character? He is not so well devoloped, and I would love the oppurtunity to make something out of him.
Are you planning on creating an original character? Most likley.
What characters are you currently playing, if any?This would be the first
Sample of Writing (2+ Paragraphs): Seth ran his fingers gingerly over the old book, afraid to rip the pages. The bible in his hands belonged to his father, and it was of great value to the family. Bound in black leather and encrusted with a large gold cross, it was the most beautiful thing Seth had ever seen, and, as a child, he would stare at it for hours. One time, he was caught in his father's study, staring, and his father simply lifted Seth to his knee, and read from the first story. He then kissed Seth on the head, and allowed him to take the bible, and put it somewhere special. The last kind gesture he had known, and it was now in his lap. Home was further. Hundreds further. He had no contact like most kids did. No contact to that little wood sided blue house with blue shutters. No contact to the mint green fence, the chipped paint that falls off in your hand as you touch it. No contact with all he had ever known. His mother refused the children a phone, except to talk to relatives on birthdays, and even Mama barley used it. She spent her days teaching the girls how to cook, while Papa was out at the church, Seth taught the boys to be men.
He had to chuckle at that thought. If Seth was not even a man, how could he teach the others to be? He couldn't. he gave his siblings odd jobs around the little farm. Move that bail, muck that stall, feed this horse. It was all very simple jobs. Then, Seth would set to the rest by himself. Tilling the fields, seeding the fields. He had one person to work with, and only on the days the family could afford to pay them. No. Life here was better. Easier. He could do as he pleased, after class, and as long as it wasn't illegal, or sinful. The sinful rule, he did his best to ignore. He wanted to date, he wanted sin. Anything that would make his father angry, was what he wanted.
Seth hated the man he called Pa. It wasn't a little hostility. it was Pure, blind, unlimited Hate. But Papa deserved hate. He deserved some much more than that. He deserved to know the error of his drunk slurs, shouted at children too young to know left from right. To know that everyday in school. Seth had to lie in front of the whole class because his father had tried to become violent at Mama. His father had locked him in the shed in the snow. His father. Not his Papa or his Daddy. Father. A Papa is someone who wrestles for fun, someone who dances on the garden plots with Esther when she was four. Played in the creek with his children in the summer. No. Papa was dead. make room, for Father.
Seth Sighed, and returned to the book, flipping through to Mark 9:14, and began reading the passage
Character's Name:Demetri Volturi
How far have you gotten into the series?: I've read the enitire thing at least three times
How often would you be able to participate in the RPG?: they are like, my life, so...
If you are not selected for this character, who else would you like to be?Anyone. I love all the characthers.
Is there any particular reason for choosing this character? He is not so well devoloped, and I would love the oppurtunity to make something out of him.
Are you planning on creating an original character? Most likley.
What characters are you currently playing, if any?This would be the first
Sample of Writing (2+ Paragraphs): Seth ran his fingers gingerly over the old book, afraid to rip the pages. The bible in his hands belonged to his father, and it was of great value to the family. Bound in black leather and encrusted with a large gold cross, it was the most beautiful thing Seth had ever seen, and, as a child, he would stare at it for hours. One time, he was caught in his father's study, staring, and his father simply lifted Seth to his knee, and read from the first story. He then kissed Seth on the head, and allowed him to take the bible, and put it somewhere special. The last kind gesture he had known, and it was now in his lap. Home was further. Hundreds further. He had no contact like most kids did. No contact to that little wood sided blue house with blue shutters. No contact to the mint green fence, the chipped paint that falls off in your hand as you touch it. No contact with all he had ever known. His mother refused the children a phone, except to talk to relatives on birthdays, and even Mama barley used it. She spent her days teaching the girls how to cook, while Papa was out at the church, Seth taught the boys to be men.
He had to chuckle at that thought. If Seth was not even a man, how could he teach the others to be? He couldn't. he gave his siblings odd jobs around the little farm. Move that bail, muck that stall, feed this horse. It was all very simple jobs. Then, Seth would set to the rest by himself. Tilling the fields, seeding the fields. He had one person to work with, and only on the days the family could afford to pay them. No. Life here was better. Easier. He could do as he pleased, after class, and as long as it wasn't illegal, or sinful. The sinful rule, he did his best to ignore. He wanted to date, he wanted sin. Anything that would make his father angry, was what he wanted.
Seth hated the man he called Pa. It wasn't a little hostility. it was Pure, blind, unlimited Hate. But Papa deserved hate. He deserved some much more than that. He deserved to know the error of his drunk slurs, shouted at children too young to know left from right. To know that everyday in school. Seth had to lie in front of the whole class because his father had tried to become violent at Mama. His father had locked him in the shed in the snow. His father. Not his Papa or his Daddy. Father. A Papa is someone who wrestles for fun, someone who dances on the garden plots with Esther when she was four. Played in the creek with his children in the summer. No. Papa was dead. make room, for Father.
Seth Sighed, and returned to the book, flipping through to Mark 9:14, and began reading the passage
