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Resiring a Childe
Riluo
The Doctor
So the backstory is this, I sired a new childe called Ceylon. When I agreed to this I explained that Riluo was incapable of tolerating people who defy him on any level -unless- they are certain and can prove they have the will to stand up for their ideals. She was happy with this I sired her and later she became distant and oddly rude at times. After a while I found out she was very new to all of this as she is from Imperium and was confused about why I am a nice guy "OOC" yet Riluo "IC" is cruel, savage and unforgiving. So instead of going ooc with this I thought to hell with it lets show her some basic rp ramifications.
So after a quick rp chat with Yarel we agreed she was confused about my intentions as her sire and to advance her story we would have her resired.
The log is short but it was fun and we hope made her understand the basics of Rp.
A warped and sodden bar (4512) - Bloodloch (68)
------- v4512 -------
[ ]-[ ]-[+]
|
[ ]
/ | \
[ ] [s] [ ]
/ \
------ -1:23:0 ------
The smell of booze assaults the senses here, making the unguarded soul reel in shock. What must have been whole cases worth of alcohol has been spilled on the wooden planks that have been laid to level the floor here, to the point that the boards have warped and bloated over the years. The surface of the counter itself sloshes as more patrons add their share to the surroundings. The stools that line the bar appear to have been repaired numerous times, perhaps even numerous times in the last day, by the looks of them. The only area of the bar
that is completely orderly is behind the counter, where even the most rowdy patrons fear to
venture. Hafydus the minotaur barkeep stands with meaty arms crossed over his broad chest. A beautifully carved chess board is attached firmly to a heavy stand here. A retired soldier
from the Bloodloch army sits here, drunk. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Hemic Aspirant Jiskjask is here. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading west.
[6999(100%)|5572(100%)|0|100%|100%|99%|62.7%|R:96|Md:0%] [HMsdb eb] (+15w)
You have emoted: The metallic scent of blood wafts upon the air, carrying with it a cloaked figure its stooped frame unnaturally peculiar given the long strides it takes as it covers the distance with considerable speed. Blood dripping in sanguine like rivulets along its exposed hands the creature curses in a long forgotten language as he devours a mutilated corpse.
Jiskjask murmurs something softly to Ceylon.
You tell Yarel, "Can you meet me please, Your Imperial Grace."
You say, "You are far too weak to serve my needs deary."
Jiskjask boggles.
You say, "When he arrives I will bind you to him.”
You say, "I trust what comes next will teach you a few things as he will not tolerate your insolence."
You say, "I will return when I have a desire for this with the device to purge you."
Yarel tells you, "Certainly. I need a moment though."
||||----I go and get the things I require then return---|||
A warped and sodden bar (4512) - Bloodloch (68)
------- v4512 -------
[ ]-[ ]-[+]
|
[ ]
/ | \
[ ] [s] [ ]
/ \
------ -1:23:0 ------
[Tripwire]: Info: Bloodloch Quest Note: You are looking for a sack of coins on the ground,
will be auto-picked up! Hafydus the minotaur barkeep stands with meaty arms crossed over his broad chest. A beautifully carved chess board is attached firmly to a heavy stand here. A retired soldier from the Bloodloch army sits here, drunk. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Hemic Aspirant Jiskjask is here. Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful is here, hidden. He is riding on Sheol, the Primal Blood-stallion. He wields a thin ceremonial athame in his left hand. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading west.
You have emoted: A cloaked figure stares at Ceylon, merely shaking its head in dissatisfaction.
Ceylon rolls her eyes.
You say to Yarel, "Hail your Imperial Grace."
Yarel inclines his head politely to those around him.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "And to you Your Imperial Highness."
Jiskjask inclines his head politely to you.
You say to Jiskjask, "Move along."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Perhaps we should go somewhere and discuss this all."
"Mmmm..." you softly utter to yourself.
You say to Yarel, "Indeed."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "Can Jiskjask join u-."
Jiskjask nods his head affirmatively.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "Follow me."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Motekah."
You follow Yarel to the ether.
A Corrupted Dragon Creche (36558) - the Creche of Corruption (Unmapped)
There are 2 tiny wooden boxes here. There are 5 keys here. An ebon ring, set with emeralds,
lies here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Dust collecting on its crystalline surfaces, an iron gauntlet of ylem binding lies here. You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, up, down, in, and out.
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "An audience would have made things interesting."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "This is starting to seem rather messy."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says to Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful, "How so?"
Yarel gives a pained sigh.
You have emoted: A bitter chill radiating from a cloaked figure, its rage very apparent, as it advances upon Ceylon. Each deliberate step calculated, unnatural and immersed in tendrils of chaotic shadow, each branch ebbing outwards from beneath the Wraiths tattered robes hissing
in savage anticipation of what is to come, "Indeed." the old Prince states as he slowly circles Ceylon.
You say to Ceylon, "You do not desire my blood and that is fine."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Your Imperial Highness."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure pauses sliding a concealed pipe from beneath the fabrics and turns.
You say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "What seems to be the problem?"
You say, "Well she seems unable to reject her humanity and we are now clashing."
You say, "I cannot have that I am old and I require her to be more blood thirsty and less ..."
You say, "I cannot think of the words."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "I do not think all the fault lies with me but you are entitled to hold your opinion."
Yarel peers at Ceylon suspiciously.
You have emoted: A cloaked figure extends its reach outwards tapping a long handled smoking pipe on his hand, the ash and sparks illuminating the Wraiths face briefly, as it appears to ponder Ceylon.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "Remain silent until you are addressed."
Ceylon nods her head at Yarel.
You raise an eyebrow questioningly.
You say, "You see the issue."
You smile wryly.
Yarel ponders the situation.
You say, "It is not a match that is suitable."
You say, "She feels I am "evil"."
You chuckle long and heartily.
Ceylon shakes her head.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "You are."
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "I did not express that opinion."
Yarel throws out a quick jab at Ceylon.
Yarel connects.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "I told you to remain silent."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Perhaps she is finding it difficult to adjust to our ways."
You have emoted: After a few moments of tense silence, a cloaked figure calmly replies, "I think so."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Now Your Imperial highness, I would say that just because a young one struggles with the adjustment, that does not mean we must write them off."
You have emoted: Fingers moving of their own accord a cloaked figure extends his left hand towards his chin seeming to think for a moment, "What advice do you have blooded to blooded, then in this case." the Wraith announces in a low tone.
Yarel ponders the situation.
You say, "Your advice here, Your Imperial Grace is vital."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Perhaps you are right, and the two of you are simply ill matched."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure appears to contemplate on the situation, His head nodding ever so briefly as if deep in thought.
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "I propose that I relieve you of this burden. I will take the rude thing as my Childe, and embitter her existence until she comes to understand what it means to be a young one among us."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure beckons to a crimson mist lingering in the shadows with His elongated finger, as the wisp moves forward the Wraith mutters a few syllables under his breath. Without hesitation, the wisp drifts out of view.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Then perhaps she can truly flourish."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure gives a strangely understanding look and nods slowly.
You say, "She has merit, this I know."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "She seems more a wild horse, than a stupid cow."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure turns as the wisp appears beside its master depositing a dark shard into his outstretched hand.
You smile wryly at Ceylon.
You say, "We are just not a match."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Now we have only one problem."
You say, "Mm."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Was she rude or disrespectful towards you in front of Jiskjask, or whatever its name is?"
You say, "To a point."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Do you feel that she has earned punishment?"
You have emoted: A cloaked figure studies Ceylon in silence, clawed hand flexing and mouth tense. "I will leave that you, as I feel I am not in the right mind to teach her." Riluo states.
You say, "I trust your judgement as always."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
You say, "I shall transfer her to your care."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Then I think a few lashes should serve. Perhaps even a small disfigurement."
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "I thank you Your Imperial Highness."
You say, "Pleasure your Imperial Grace."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure draws a circle on the ground and lays out his tools one by one before standing.
You chant, "Kelo wo yunva ero elnur nu."
Dipping the tip of your finger into a phial of the sanguine, you quickly paint the wostu rune on Ceylon in blood.
You hold the jewel shard against the forehead of Ceylon, willing its magic to transfuse throughout her blood. The jewel turns a deep crimson for several moments, then dims to its natural silver. You offer to undertake the ritual of binding to connect Yarel as Ceylon's sire, and await their mutual agreement.
Yarel's veins throb visibly as the ritual nears completion and a shimmering red string of blood emerges from him towards Ceylon, awaiting her consent.
The ritual comes to an end, and the wostu rune painted upon Ceylon's skin flares brightly.
Briefly, you make out a shimmering red string of blood connecting Ceylon and Yarel, before both the rune and the blood fade from view.
Ceylon:
She is Nezah.
She is one of the Consanguine.
She is of the Bloodborn.
She is by rights an Arch Duchess.
You say, "It is done."
With overwhelming elegance, you cut low your waist and bow gracefully to those around you.
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
You raise an eyebrow questioningly.
You say to Ceylon, "Do not defy him."
You say, "If you will excuse me Your Imperial Grace."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "She will not, I can assure you. At least not more than once."
You chuckle long and heartily.
Ceylon will now be known as Arch Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Of course, Your Imperial Highness."
You utter a brief charm, focusing upon the link to your coffin.
So after a quick rp chat with Yarel we agreed she was confused about my intentions as her sire and to advance her story we would have her resired.
The log is short but it was fun and we hope made her understand the basics of Rp.
A warped and sodden bar (4512) - Bloodloch (68)
------- v4512 -------
[ ]-[ ]-[+]
|
[ ]
/ | \
[ ] [s] [ ]
/ \
------ -1:23:0 ------
The smell of booze assaults the senses here, making the unguarded soul reel in shock. What must have been whole cases worth of alcohol has been spilled on the wooden planks that have been laid to level the floor here, to the point that the boards have warped and bloated over the years. The surface of the counter itself sloshes as more patrons add their share to the surroundings. The stools that line the bar appear to have been repaired numerous times, perhaps even numerous times in the last day, by the looks of them. The only area of the bar
that is completely orderly is behind the counter, where even the most rowdy patrons fear to
venture. Hafydus the minotaur barkeep stands with meaty arms crossed over his broad chest. A beautifully carved chess board is attached firmly to a heavy stand here. A retired soldier
from the Bloodloch army sits here, drunk. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Hemic Aspirant Jiskjask is here. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading west.
[6999(100%)|5572(100%)|0|100%|100%|99%|62.7%|R:96|Md:0%] [HMsdb eb] (+15w)
You have emoted: The metallic scent of blood wafts upon the air, carrying with it a cloaked figure its stooped frame unnaturally peculiar given the long strides it takes as it covers the distance with considerable speed. Blood dripping in sanguine like rivulets along its exposed hands the creature curses in a long forgotten language as he devours a mutilated corpse.
Jiskjask murmurs something softly to Ceylon.
You tell Yarel, "Can you meet me please, Your Imperial Grace."
You say, "You are far too weak to serve my needs deary."
Jiskjask boggles.
You say, "When he arrives I will bind you to him.”
You say, "I trust what comes next will teach you a few things as he will not tolerate your insolence."
You say, "I will return when I have a desire for this with the device to purge you."
Yarel tells you, "Certainly. I need a moment though."
||||----I go and get the things I require then return---|||
A warped and sodden bar (4512) - Bloodloch (68)
------- v4512 -------
[ ]-[ ]-[+]
|
[ ]
/ | \
[ ] [s] [ ]
/ \
------ -1:23:0 ------
[Tripwire]: Info: Bloodloch Quest Note: You are looking for a sack of coins on the ground,
will be auto-picked up! Hafydus the minotaur barkeep stands with meaty arms crossed over his broad chest. A beautifully carved chess board is attached firmly to a heavy stand here. A retired soldier from the Bloodloch army sits here, drunk. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Hemic Aspirant Jiskjask is here. Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful is here, hidden. He is riding on Sheol, the Primal Blood-stallion. He wields a thin ceremonial athame in his left hand. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading west.
You have emoted: A cloaked figure stares at Ceylon, merely shaking its head in dissatisfaction.
Ceylon rolls her eyes.
You say to Yarel, "Hail your Imperial Grace."
Yarel inclines his head politely to those around him.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "And to you Your Imperial Highness."
Jiskjask inclines his head politely to you.
You say to Jiskjask, "Move along."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Perhaps we should go somewhere and discuss this all."
"Mmmm..." you softly utter to yourself.
You say to Yarel, "Indeed."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "Can Jiskjask join u-."
Jiskjask nods his head affirmatively.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "Follow me."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Motekah."
You follow Yarel to the ether.
A Corrupted Dragon Creche (36558) - the Creche of Corruption (Unmapped)
There are 2 tiny wooden boxes here. There are 5 keys here. An ebon ring, set with emeralds,
lies here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Dust collecting on its crystalline surfaces, an iron gauntlet of ylem binding lies here. You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, up, down, in, and out.
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "An audience would have made things interesting."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "This is starting to seem rather messy."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says to Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful, "How so?"
Yarel gives a pained sigh.
You have emoted: A bitter chill radiating from a cloaked figure, its rage very apparent, as it advances upon Ceylon. Each deliberate step calculated, unnatural and immersed in tendrils of chaotic shadow, each branch ebbing outwards from beneath the Wraiths tattered robes hissing
in savage anticipation of what is to come, "Indeed." the old Prince states as he slowly circles Ceylon.
You say to Ceylon, "You do not desire my blood and that is fine."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Your Imperial Highness."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure pauses sliding a concealed pipe from beneath the fabrics and turns.
You say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "What seems to be the problem?"
You say, "Well she seems unable to reject her humanity and we are now clashing."
You say, "I cannot have that I am old and I require her to be more blood thirsty and less ..."
You say, "I cannot think of the words."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "I do not think all the fault lies with me but you are entitled to hold your opinion."
Yarel peers at Ceylon suspiciously.
You have emoted: A cloaked figure extends its reach outwards tapping a long handled smoking pipe on his hand, the ash and sparks illuminating the Wraiths face briefly, as it appears to ponder Ceylon.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "Remain silent until you are addressed."
Ceylon nods her head at Yarel.
You raise an eyebrow questioningly.
You say, "You see the issue."
You smile wryly.
Yarel ponders the situation.
You say, "It is not a match that is suitable."
You say, "She feels I am "evil"."
You chuckle long and heartily.
Ceylon shakes her head.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "You are."
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir says, "I did not express that opinion."
Yarel throws out a quick jab at Ceylon.
Yarel connects.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to Grand Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir, "I told you to remain silent."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Perhaps she is finding it difficult to adjust to our ways."
You have emoted: After a few moments of tense silence, a cloaked figure calmly replies, "I think so."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Now Your Imperial highness, I would say that just because a young one struggles with the adjustment, that does not mean we must write them off."
You have emoted: Fingers moving of their own accord a cloaked figure extends his left hand towards his chin seeming to think for a moment, "What advice do you have blooded to blooded, then in this case." the Wraith announces in a low tone.
Yarel ponders the situation.
You say, "Your advice here, Your Imperial Grace is vital."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Perhaps you are right, and the two of you are simply ill matched."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure appears to contemplate on the situation, His head nodding ever so briefly as if deep in thought.
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "I propose that I relieve you of this burden. I will take the rude thing as my Childe, and embitter her existence until she comes to understand what it means to be a young one among us."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure beckons to a crimson mist lingering in the shadows with His elongated finger, as the wisp moves forward the Wraith mutters a few syllables under his breath. Without hesitation, the wisp drifts out of view.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Then perhaps she can truly flourish."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure gives a strangely understanding look and nods slowly.
You say, "She has merit, this I know."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "She seems more a wild horse, than a stupid cow."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure turns as the wisp appears beside its master depositing a dark shard into his outstretched hand.
You smile wryly at Ceylon.
You say, "We are just not a match."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Now we have only one problem."
You say, "Mm."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Was she rude or disrespectful towards you in front of Jiskjask, or whatever its name is?"
You say, "To a point."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Do you feel that she has earned punishment?"
You have emoted: A cloaked figure studies Ceylon in silence, clawed hand flexing and mouth tense. "I will leave that you, as I feel I am not in the right mind to teach her." Riluo states.
You say, "I trust your judgement as always."
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
You say, "I shall transfer her to your care."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says, "Then I think a few lashes should serve. Perhaps even a small disfigurement."
You nod your head and say, "Aye."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "I thank you Your Imperial Highness."
You say, "Pleasure your Imperial Grace."
You have emoted: A cloaked figure draws a circle on the ground and lays out his tools one by one before standing.
You chant, "Kelo wo yunva ero elnur nu."
Dipping the tip of your finger into a phial of the sanguine, you quickly paint the wostu rune on Ceylon in blood.
You hold the jewel shard against the forehead of Ceylon, willing its magic to transfuse throughout her blood. The jewel turns a deep crimson for several moments, then dims to its natural silver. You offer to undertake the ritual of binding to connect Yarel as Ceylon's sire, and await their mutual agreement.
Yarel's veins throb visibly as the ritual nears completion and a shimmering red string of blood emerges from him towards Ceylon, awaiting her consent.
The ritual comes to an end, and the wostu rune painted upon Ceylon's skin flares brightly.
Briefly, you make out a shimmering red string of blood connecting Ceylon and Yarel, before both the rune and the blood fade from view.
Ceylon:
She is Nezah.
She is one of the Consanguine.
She is of the Bloodborn.
She is by rights an Arch Duchess.
You say, "It is done."
With overwhelming elegance, you cut low your waist and bow gracefully to those around you.
Yarel nods his head emphatically.
You raise an eyebrow questioningly.
You say to Ceylon, "Do not defy him."
You say, "If you will excuse me Your Imperial Grace."
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "She will not, I can assure you. At least not more than once."
You chuckle long and heartily.
Ceylon will now be known as Arch Duchess Ceylon Nebre'seir.
Yarel Nebre'seir, the Spiteful says to you, "Of course, Your Imperial Highness."
You utter a brief charm, focusing upon the link to your coffin.
Abhorash says, "Ve'kahi has proved that even bastards can earn their place."
4
Comments
With that said the actual rp backstory was that Ceylon approached Riluo with the question as to whether Sires are the equivalent of being a person's parent and how bloodlines work with the undead, she mentioned that she first approached her mentor but he directed her to ask her Sire. Riluo proceeded to ask who her mentor was and before I could respond I had to step away from my computer for 3-5 minutes. In that time he threatened to kill her mentor in his tracks and he told her he would stop aiding her until she revealed his identity. She immediately informed him of her mentor's identity but she felt that he was irrationally angry about something so meaningless so she sought out Yarel to resire her.
I'm fine roleplaying with someone that cannot tolerate those that defy him so long as the person is relatively reasonable. After the incident other people informed her that Riluo is easily irritated and short-tempered, and someone informed me that he's irritable when you've had a tough day at work. I didn't think they would jive with one other so she sought out someone more rational and easy-going.
I can relate to your frustration and the difficulty of differentiate between what is role play and what is not. However, if you like you can speak to me "in game" as I do not mind and I would rather enjoy it if I can assist in advancing your gaming experience. Although having said that if it is all to overwhelming then perhaps mention that you do not want to go down this avenue with Nebre'seir or Riluo instead of getting "mad" or frustrated. Also if you ever feel singled out just speak up in a tell as I am not Riluo I am just a guy playing a "sociopathic character" behind a screen.
Take care and I hope things get better for you.
Abhorash says, "Ve'kahi has proved that even bastards can earn their place."
I'm glad that they had the opportunity to rp with one another (though I was hoping for a little bloodshed) my only qualms was that she was not permitted to speak, and essentially engage, during the exchange and simply had to type agree at the appropriate time. It was a rather underwhelming exchange. I don't think the issue is my inability to differentiate between what's rp and what's not, but the issue is in whether I value her experiences enough to want to continue playing.
Also, just putting it out there, the only thing that frustrates me thus far is experience loss with death, though in my defence finishing a round of hunting with less experience than started is pretty annoying.
That said the city is not a roleplay-centric city by any means, hence why I try to get others to get involved. In terms of the cities, natural rp style you will find it is more often than not dark, controlling and verging on savage. Then again this is a given when you join a city and house built upon dominance, death and vampires. Conversely, you -can- at times find the odd none dark rper, although it will be from the same two or three people in 99% of cases.
Abhorash says, "Ve'kahi has proved that even bastards can earn their place."
emote 's facial expression clearly indicates her frustration at being told to remain silent. With lips pressed tightly together, she regards the two Blooded as they discuss her over her head, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.