Post by Sydney Redwood on Mar 4, 2009 23:59:28 GMT -5
Furcadia Name: Sydney Redwood
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Marital Status: Single
Description (copy word for word your character's desc): Short blonde hair was tousled in a windswept mess, showing her as laid-back though she was far from careless. Despite her 5'7 height, her figure was surprisingly petite. Sapphire blue eyes were veiled behind a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that accentuated her angelic features. Two holstered pistols hung on a thick leather belt, which wrapped around the waist of a pair of clinging, worn jeans. An oversized brown leather pilot's jacket with a thick sheep wool lining adorned her torso and concealed a close-fitting gray t-shirt. Weight-lifting gloves fitted well upon her hands, as did the black ballet flats upon her feet. A <a href="http://i377.photobucket.com/albums/oo218/deadjulius/wingsoftime.gif">clockwork pendant</a> completed her ensemble.
Weapons: A pair of Three-Barrel Revolving Flintlock Pistols
Skills: 5 year traceuse, unnervingly quiet, grappling, handy with a knife, excellent aim, and prepared for a multitude of situations (how to land a plane in case the pilot is incapacitated, escaping from the trunk of a car, etc)
What Can You Offer USAF: I have 7 years of role playing experience, I’m usually a good mediator, and I am hilariously awkward.
Why Do You Want To Join USAF: USAF is one of the bigger role playing communities I’ve seen around Furcadia and I’ve been trying to RP with a bigger variety of people.
How Many Times A Week Are You On: At least 2 times a week to 4 times a week.
What Area Would You Want To Be In (Medical, Spec. Ops. General, etc): Special Ops or recon team.
Roleplay Sample:
Sydney Redwood plopped herself on to the gym floor mats, not bothering with the pretense of interest in the trainers, treadmills, or weigh-lifting equipment. She was dressed in an outfit of general workout clothes: a white t-shirt, black shorts, and Asics sneakers. In one particular area of the room, she completed a quick series of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. A thin film of sweat built up on her skin while she stretched, reflecting that her body was warmed up for strenuous exercise. Standing slowly, she made her way to the boxer’s area of the gym. Grabbing some adhesive athlete’s tape from atop a shelf, she picked at the edges until a piece pulled up from the roll. She wrapped her left knuckle with her right hand and then finished the process on her right knuckle using her teeth. Now standing in front of a stationary punching bag, she tossed the roll to the floor using a claw-like hand and let out a deep exhalation. She shook out her arms in an effort to relax before taking a fighter’s stance and simply stared at the gleaming brown material of the punching bag. Her hands curled into fists and suddenly a flurry of jabs and uppercuts were thrown, pushing the bag backwards into empty space. From time to time Sydney would add in a powerful kick, but maintained her cycle of punches in order to keep a steady rhythm. Since the bag itself did not stop moving, Sydney was constantly advancing or retreating from the swinging punching bag. Drained after 20 minutes, she stepped back in order to make space for her body to lean forward. She planted her hands on her knees and panted for breath. Standing straight, she placed her taped hands on her hips and walked towards the treadmills. Blast! She groaned when she realized that she had forgotten her Nalgene bottle in her quarters. Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, she exited the gym so she could find a cheap water bottle at one of the many vending machines lining the hallway. The rest of her workout would have to wait.
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Marital Status: Single
Description (copy word for word your character's desc): Short blonde hair was tousled in a windswept mess, showing her as laid-back though she was far from careless. Despite her 5'7 height, her figure was surprisingly petite. Sapphire blue eyes were veiled behind a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that accentuated her angelic features. Two holstered pistols hung on a thick leather belt, which wrapped around the waist of a pair of clinging, worn jeans. An oversized brown leather pilot's jacket with a thick sheep wool lining adorned her torso and concealed a close-fitting gray t-shirt. Weight-lifting gloves fitted well upon her hands, as did the black ballet flats upon her feet. A <a href="http://i377.photobucket.com/albums/oo218/deadjulius/wingsoftime.gif">clockwork pendant</a> completed her ensemble.
Weapons: A pair of Three-Barrel Revolving Flintlock Pistols
Skills: 5 year traceuse, unnervingly quiet, grappling, handy with a knife, excellent aim, and prepared for a multitude of situations (how to land a plane in case the pilot is incapacitated, escaping from the trunk of a car, etc)
What Can You Offer USAF: I have 7 years of role playing experience, I’m usually a good mediator, and I am hilariously awkward.
Why Do You Want To Join USAF: USAF is one of the bigger role playing communities I’ve seen around Furcadia and I’ve been trying to RP with a bigger variety of people.
How Many Times A Week Are You On: At least 2 times a week to 4 times a week.
What Area Would You Want To Be In (Medical, Spec. Ops. General, etc): Special Ops or recon team.
Roleplay Sample:
Sydney Redwood plopped herself on to the gym floor mats, not bothering with the pretense of interest in the trainers, treadmills, or weigh-lifting equipment. She was dressed in an outfit of general workout clothes: a white t-shirt, black shorts, and Asics sneakers. In one particular area of the room, she completed a quick series of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. A thin film of sweat built up on her skin while she stretched, reflecting that her body was warmed up for strenuous exercise. Standing slowly, she made her way to the boxer’s area of the gym. Grabbing some adhesive athlete’s tape from atop a shelf, she picked at the edges until a piece pulled up from the roll. She wrapped her left knuckle with her right hand and then finished the process on her right knuckle using her teeth. Now standing in front of a stationary punching bag, she tossed the roll to the floor using a claw-like hand and let out a deep exhalation. She shook out her arms in an effort to relax before taking a fighter’s stance and simply stared at the gleaming brown material of the punching bag. Her hands curled into fists and suddenly a flurry of jabs and uppercuts were thrown, pushing the bag backwards into empty space. From time to time Sydney would add in a powerful kick, but maintained her cycle of punches in order to keep a steady rhythm. Since the bag itself did not stop moving, Sydney was constantly advancing or retreating from the swinging punching bag. Drained after 20 minutes, she stepped back in order to make space for her body to lean forward. She planted her hands on her knees and panted for breath. Standing straight, she placed her taped hands on her hips and walked towards the treadmills. Blast! She groaned when she realized that she had forgotten her Nalgene bottle in her quarters. Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, she exited the gym so she could find a cheap water bottle at one of the many vending machines lining the hallway. The rest of her workout would have to wait.