Sweetcherrie

Wouldn't you think she would have a name like Rose?

Ok I stole this game from another board, but it looked like fun and so far I haven't been able to find it here. (if it has been played before, and you don't feel like playing again, just ignore this thread ) Write only in the form of a question. Reply to the previous question.. with a question and try to keep the story going. Example: How Should I start it Off? Reply: What are asking me for? Reply: Who else should I ask? etc etc I'll start.... Wasn't there a princess somewhere?

Aimo’s whole body felt sore, the guards had beaten him up after Jamison had given them a green light to do so. What was even worse, he was now deprived of his “special rights”, and his head was surely going to explode that day. Next to the pain in his body, he also felt a stinging guilt. This had not been the first time that he had killed when the alcohol had befogged his brain. Apparently the next dead body was already found as well. He didn’t care too much about the “the Hammer”, but he did care about his own life, and the way this was going…. “Maybe I should stop drinking” he sighed; it would be an impossible task, especially while he was in this hellhole. Nevertheless he decided to try anyways. He should even try to become friends with some of the other prisoners. He walked over to Seth, “I see ye don like the guards either, don show it to em, or ye’ll end up like me.” Seth looked at the Arab, with a mixture of disgust and distrust, “What is that of you’re business?” “Relax, I’m on your side, I don like em either” and with that he jovially slapped the pirate on the shoulder, and went his way again, leaving Seth a bit confused. OOC: I'm accusing Bartholomew Jamison / Ozy

That afternoon the heat was once again unbearable, which promised another burning day in hell. Aimo wasn’t too bothered; in fact he wasn’t bothered at all. Something else was keeping his thoughts busy. He had woken up that morning with the feeling that there were thousands of angry dwarfs with little knives, pricking on the inside of his skull. He had tried to forget about it, but by midmorning he couldn’t stand it any longer. As soon as the other prisoners looked the other way, he nodded to the guard that was watching them, and disappeared into the nearest bushes. He walked for a while, and tried to concentrate on something else than the throbbing in his head, which seemed to get worse with every step he took. Without noticing he had taken the right paths, and now stood in front of a small wooden cabin. Great wafts of smoke were coming from the windows, and for an outsider it would have looked as if the cabin was on fire. Aimo only smiled, everything was still in order. There hung a nauseating smell in the air around the cabin, but Aimo took a deep breath, and already felt some of the dwarfs retreat. He opened the door, and went inside. Two hours later he emerged. His nose had become its familiar shade of reddish-purple again, and his steps were slightly less steady then when he had arrived. His headache had disappeared, and his thoughts were more connected than before. He wobbled back to the barracks, now carrying a large bag on his back, and hardly noticed where he was walking, until he heard rustling in the bushes that slowly came in his direction. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was running loose on the island. He hid behind a few trees, and waited. It was that William bloke. He strode right past Aimo, without noticing that he was being watched. When he was out of view, Aimo followed the path again, now wondering why he wasn’t the only one that was walking around in the woods, and what William had been looking for. OOC: I accuse William of Humperton / Patrick (hey, someone needs to start with accusing random people )

I like the developments so far all evil people, a few guards that are possible evil as well, and then Tanuchan's lovely ghost floating in the middle.

I am an absulute sugar addict, and my mouth waters when I read the ice cream descriptions of Wyvern. There is an ice cream bar in Paris, where they sell home made Italian ice-cream, and I've never had anything better than their brownie ice-cream. They bake the brownies separate, and I've had the luck to walk in when the brownies were in the oven. The whole place smelled of freshly baked brownies. It did mean I had to wait for a bit to get my brownie ice cream, but it was worth it. I ended up with ice cream in which the brownies were still slightly warm, aboslutely the best ice cream I've ever had. yum.

Aimo was lying on his bunk, the heat was still smothering, and he seemed to feel it even worse since the death of the commandant this evening. Only an hour before he had been speaking to him about extra privileges, and now he was dead. This was a definite set back, someone would probably come and replace the commandant, and then he would have to start the negotiating all over again. Aimo hoped that whoever would be send here, that that person also loved his liquors. He thought about his stash at the island for a moment, but that William person interrupted his thoughts, by asking whom they thought had done it. Aimo hadn’t even though that far, he had only been thinking about what this would mean to his business. He turned around in his bunk, hindered by the fact that it really didn’t fit his body, and tried to get to sleep. His mind was a bit fogged by the stuff he had been drinking this afternoon, and he didn’t want to jump to hasty conclusions.

Sweetcherrie walks in all dressed up in her best suit, and with a suitcase in her hand. She walks to the front of the room, and carefully opens the suitcase. She takes out a neat pile of papers, and clears her throat. “Thank you for coming all today-“ than looks around to see that all the attention is directed at the Almost Dragon (which is of course logical since it is his birthday). “Ah well, I’ll skip the professional presentation,” she mumbles, and walks over to Wyvern. She hugs him, careful not to crease her suit, and hands him the pile of paper. “I have done some research, and it seems that your target group has shifted slightly. It also turns out that your pricing strategy has been erm…a bit off. Other than that I have taken a look at the international aspect, and it turns out that-“ she stops mid sentence. “Anyways, this is a marketing report that contains several different strategies to go international with the Almost Dragonic products, if you just follow the guidelines described in here, your market share should increase significantly all around the world.” OOC: Happy Birthday Wyvern!!!

Aimo was lying down under a bush, it was a very hot day, and little drops of sweat ran over his big, red nose. He was waiting for the right moment to get up and sprint to the shade of one of the buildings, where he was out of view. He calmly observed the guard, who was overseeing the other prisoners. Aimo had been here so long, and with his services he had earned “special rights” from the guards. This meant that he could sneak away every now and then, but he also had to be careful that none of the other prisoners noticed, or they’d all want “special rights”. The guard quickly looked his way, shielded him from the view of the others, and waved a hand behind his back, signalling that he could now get out from under his bush. He got up as fast as his big belly and his heavy load allowed him, and ran to the side of the building, trying to use some of the trees as cover. None of the others had noticed. Softly humming, happy with himself, he continued his way to where the guards lived. He would be eating well today, the guards would be pleased with what he had brought.

Rubix Cube If I would compare myself with an object it would most probably be a Rubix Cube. I don’t know if everybody remembers them, but they were those cubes that existed of different compartments, with a colour on each side. You could turn and twist the cube, and the object of this little game was that you got all side one colour, at the same time. The most difficult thing was to have everything in order at the same time. I am like that, I normally am pretty organised, but there is always a side that is completely mixed up. When I finally manage to have all sides one colour, than it only takes a few little twists to mess it all up again. With this I don’t mean to say that I’m unstable or anything, the cube was made of a pretty hard plastic, just that organization is sometimes hard to find in my head. The colours are also important. As I said each side had a different colour, (I think they used: white, yellow, red, orange, blue, and green) I’ve got at least as many moods as the cube has colours. I can be a happy yellow person, but there are also days when there is a red sign going up, and I should not speak to anybody, unless they like being insulted. Green would be the days on which I feel especially connected to nature, white for the spiritual days, blue for when I’m feeling sad, and finally Orange for days when I feel particularly connected to Holland (I seem to have less and less orange daysJ). Ironing Iron My mum would be an iron, smoothly striking out the wrinkles when needed, and leaving you with a warm and cuddly feeling. Very practical, you only need to be careful with touching her on the wrong places; you might burn yourself (like when I don’t clean up my mess behind me). Calculator My dad is more of a calculator; I can always count on him to give the right answers. He also helps me with the most difficult problems. At the same time he has soft spots, like the keys on a calculator. He has the handy quality that he can turn himself of when he doesn’t want to discuss something any longer, and then decides to do something else instead. Towel My little brother would be like a towel, nice and soft. He soaks up too much, and ends up silent. He’s never been much of a talker more a listener, but sometimes his dry humour can catch me unexpected. Oak My best friend is an oak. One that has been broken in a few places, but just kept on growing stronger of it. She is an amazing person, and is as refreshing as the oak tree is in spring, full of new undiscovered, leaves, and yet so familiar. Of course I love all of them, and I could probably go one with a few other people. I have heard of drama classes that used this exercise to improve the acting. I’ve always had the tendency to connect people with different animals, but this was fun as well.

A flickering flame ignites the wooden staff And the teachers went up in fire I did this not on my behalf But for the class entire Never did they inspire Or did they show some chaff Ungraspable how they could hire Those people that formed the wooden staff I hope I didn't mess up the interpretation of words here. new line: "She danced on silver wings"

I'm in Last one was over way too quickly. Aimo Fuad A 38 year old Arab, who has the largest beer belly ever. He is on the island because he had one pub crawl too many, and ended up killing someone over a shot of whiskey. To his credit I must say that it was a 35 year old Kinclaith, unfortunately he had forgotten that it was the other guy who had paid for it.

Kissed by soothing dreams asleep with eyes wide open The man in front force-feeds on monotonic tone the knowledge to defeat the rising of the dawn Yet, time just clocks along lost in my waking dreams

*Applaudes Tanny for being, once again, a great mod* Thank you all for a short, but great RP *hugs all around* - Sweetcherrie

*picks up the remote control and tunes into WW channel* Cool

LOL, *Hands Venefyxatu a bowl of water to cool down his fingers* Would there be any tickets for misspelling words? And for how many times you use backspace? Because then I would have no money left for food Nice story - Sweetcherrie

Lizzie heard Zeke shouting that it had been Emmett, and that had seen it on film even. She was confused, maybe her assumptions about Debra were wrong. She did seem like a nice enough woman. She pondered over this for a while, and was rudely disturbed in her thoughts by Emmett coming in. He was as usual, talking. She took a good look at him, it was certainly possible that he has done it. He probably knew his way around with chemicals, and hadn’t it been glue that contained the poison. That could have been glue used for the wigs…. OOC: Changing my vote from Dragonqueen to Venefyxatu/Emmett

She normally never drank coffee, but somehow lately the coffee tasted different, better even, and with the news about Don, Lizzie had been in need of something stronger than tea. She was just pouring her fourth cup of coffee, when Terry Walkworth walked passed the door of her dressing room. He was rubbing his side, and mumbling words under his breath, he looked very upset. Swallowing the last sip of her coffee she decides to go over to Terry, and ask him if he’s all right. She puts the cup down on the make-up table, and takes a last look in the mirror to see if her make-up is still in place. But in the mirror she not only sees her own reflection, but also a weak reflection of a man standing behind her. She turns around, and finds herself face to face with some sort of transparent person. The man is quietly standing there, arms crossed, observing her. “I wondered when you would finally acknowledge my existance.” He says. Lizzie sinks back in the chair. It was the same man she had seen in the corridors, but he looked even more transparent now. She feels her heart beat faster, and her blood rushing through her veins. “I’ll introduce myself, my name is Paul Gotliebb Nipkow” the man says as he takes a step forward. Lizzie extends her hand in brave politeness, but the man shakes his head, and chuckles “Unfortunately I am past that stage.” Lizzie lowers her hand again, “I’ve heard your name somewhere, aren’t you the designer of my-“ “Your television, yes, I am.” The man’s face turns sour, “you’re one of the very few still using a television with my Nipkow disc in it.” “I know, it was a gift from my father, he-“ “Was a great fan of my system, I know. That’s also the reason I decided to come over and have a chat with you. I want you to reintroduce my system, you see…” The ghost rumbled on, but Lizzie’s mind was going on overdrive. She just met her first ghost, and immediately following that thought came the realization that, if he was a ghost, he might have seen something about what happened with Don. “….and then we can all have Nipkow discs in our-“ “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but have you seen what exactly has happened to Don?” The ghost stopped his rambling, and his transparent face turned a transparent red, “Have you even been listening to what I was saying!” he roared in anger. Lizzie hurried to reassure him that she had, but then urged him to answer her question. Gotlieb grinned evily, “He was poisoned, serves him right, he never liked my Nipkow system, and I thank the person who has done it, although I have no idea who it was. Probably a woman though they are more likely to use poison then men, I’ve heard stories...” Lizzie’s mind raced again, the ghost had a point; women would more likely use poison, and Debra did seem unusually quiet after last night. OOC: vote for Dragonqueen - Debra Thompson. I apologize for the long post, I just had a lot of things I wanted to write.

~Other~ I haven't discovered anything that I couldn't place anywhere else yet.

~Relationships~ She communicates with animals, she understands their feelings, and can therefore handle almost any animal. She is less good with humans, because she feels like she’s in the middle; neither white nor red. She is feared by the other Apaches for her ability to see through the owl’s eyes. Apaches fear the owl more than any other animal, because they believe that they are the spirits of dead Apache.

~Personality~ She is hotheaded, always in for a joke, unbelievably stubborn, but has an amazing feeling for justice. This makes for an irresistible combination. If she sees injustice being done, she will fight to make it right. She doesn’t trust men. She’s a loner not because she chooses to, but because other Indians tend to avoid speaking to her.

~Physical description~ She is built tall, much taller than any of the other females around; this is most likely due to her Irish blood. Her hair is straight, and black, but when the sun shines on it, it has a red glow. She has an athletic body, since most of what she does requires physical strength, like hunting and fighting. She has a strong muscled body from physical training, but she has never lost the baby fat on her cheeks, which gives her a friendly round face. She has blue-grey eyes that darken when she is excited, or angry. Her skin has the colour of dark honey, almost with a golden glow. She has freckles around her nose, which is the Irish influence in her, and she doesn’t like it one bit.

~Clothes~ She normally wears soft, leader skirts, with high boot top moccasins. She wears her hair in two braids, with a feather of the wise snow owl in each braid. She wears the colours of her tribe on her face when she fights. Ceremonial clothing is different. description follows.

~Items~ She always carries her medicine bag with her, and also knows how to use what’s in it. She carries a knife in her belt. When she is travelling on horse she carries her bow over her back, and her spear under her thigh.

~Magical Abilities~ She has a natural ability for working with the elements. She will once be able to command them, but at the moment she's still trying to discover their power. She has also been taught to do magic with words. She can, for example, cloak someone's identity by renaming him. She receives special training from her father to receive the ultimate gift of wisdom. Maiara has the ability to see through the eyes of owls, by meditation she can leave her body behind and circle the earth to see things from above. She can sense the feelings of other animals.