Forums » Forum Games » (IC) First impression of the character above you

hi hello OP here. i made an edit to the original post but i just wanted to put this out here in case anyone would see it: please don't roleplay here, it's not what this thread was intended for at all. it's great if some characters meet here and you guys would like to start up a roleplay, but beyond one or two replies, please either make a private message or use the roleplay forums because that's what they were made for.

Penetrating blue eyes stared at the warrior maiden with rapt attention, before their owner commented, "You remind me of my sister."

An interesting, water related woman.

Michi’s eyes widened at the woman in front of him. “Ahh... You’re so cool and powerful-looking! And your crown is pretty and circular!” He giggled, happy to have found a circle. He has an unhealthy obsession with circles.

"Lemme be honest...I have no idea what to think of you." She seems stuck in some thought. "...But I suppose you're an...interesting person to say the least."

“You seem like the laidback sort of woman.”

"'Ya seem like 'sumbody good 'wit a broom."

The old queen’s aged face twisted into a grimace of distaste so expressive that a look alone would have been more than sufficient to sum up a summarily scalding review of just what the old man thought of the Captain...Had he not been of the inclination to voice his particularly strong opinions at every available opportunity. Delano ineffectually waved a soft, withered hand in the air, only succeeding in further stirring up the persistent cloud of oily, peppery cigar smoke which surrounded him. ”Must you inhale those awful things in here?” he griped, sounding thoroughly incensed. The disapproval in his voice was as palpable as the essence of pure sass that radiated from the core of his being. Sparing no expenses in his endlessly dramatic display, he coughed dryly as he went on, ”I for one find you to be both crass and disreputable, sir. I can usually appreciate a man in uniform, but you’re so disgracefully filthy...” For emphasis, the old madame plucked and flicked away an invisible speck of lint from his immaculately clean lapel. ”That I’m not even entirely sure you’re deserving of your supposed title.” And with a dramatic huff of indignation, the tall man folded his arms and turned his nose up at the captain, satisfied at having made his stance quite clear.

"Hey, lay off!" She'd crossed her arms, unstanding of those of heavy judgements. "Hmph."

Consumed by her infuriating impulse to stick her nose into other peoples' business; ”Oioioioioi, ‘old up’a tick.” the undersized engineer blurted out abruptly, appearing from some obscured nook and already waggling her palms in a gesture of exasperated halting. It was like jazz hands, but totally not jazz hands. Her steely eyes were fixed in a glare that positively oozed both hostility and righteous indignation, lip curled in disdainful revulsion at whatever had her so outraged. To clarify that very point, the redhead jutted out a hand and pointed upward at the title of the thread. ”Oi, can you read, lady?” She demanded, though clearly not expecting an answer given her immediate continuation. ”It sez’ ’f i r s t...i m p r e s s i o n’, y’see?” bristly, firebrick-red hair bobbed insolently, eyes shooting through the obscuring locks with a fierce hostility. ”’Ow inne’ ‘oly righteous @#$% is that a bloody ‘first impression’?” It was a demand for more than a question, and a rhetorical one at that. The girl flung her arms out to either side in a ’fite me bro’ gesture, herbaggy army field jacket looking much too large on the diminutive frame. ”Did’ye even take ‘haffa’ @#$%in’ second te’see who’de gibberin @#$% ye’s even talkin’ to? Issat seriously all’ye got’te say? I sweah’ on Milo’s shallow grave the bloody sewfishness-”

The teenager halted then, blinking as she realized that she was failing entirely to take her own advice. Not wanting to look the part of hypocrite, she switched gears, gesturing wildly, if vaguely at the individual to whom she was supposed to be giving a ‘first impression’.

”Well it ain't like I got much'te go off but my first impression’a you’sat you’sa shallow, bloody unoriginal, sef-cente’d wank-”

The inevitable torrent of viceral insults was cut off with a startled yelp, though, for it was then that someone finally took the initiative to hastily, forcefully drag the little brat off somewhere else before she could get herself into even more trouble than she was likely already in - presumably being briefly hailed as a hero and good samaritan for keeping the amount of time someone had to deal with the insufferable girl to an absolute minimum.

"Whoa whoa- easy on the attitude, kid," Randle appeased as he flashed his palms, not able to keep himself from smiling subtly. Small packages usually came with a lot of pizzazz, and there was nothing he loved more about that beautiful contrast. "Can't say I hate the spunk, though, but ya oughta be wary about the fact that not all folk take as kindly to it." Humans were far more difficult to read than those of his kind thanks to their absurd lack of expression-stimulating tails and whatnot, but this gal, no, her eyes and movements spoke volumes. She wanted to be the toughest-looking in the room; and right now, she was. "On the other hand, ya do look like you can hold your own- whaddaya think about watching my back once to keep those hand-throwing goons off my back while I dig into the shady zones?" An offer purely based on friendly boasting- men in his line of work preferred to work alone; and were to suffer the consequences like the wannabe edgy and stubborn bloodhounds they were.

“You seem like a nice fellow,” Lancelot said with a cheerful tone, most likely because he was Knight of Astora, and a knight care about honor and justice more then anything,”I may just be a suit of rusty armor, but I’m sure that anyone can see that.” Lancelot put his arms out wide, he have done that a lot since he became a talking suit of armor that go around being, well, a talking suit of armor,”Sure I’m not much of one to dig in places that I don’t belong,” Lancelot said with a little bit of a strange accent,”Now that I think about it, that what I do everyday!” Lancelot said, soon letting out a jolly laugh, he then nodded to the cat-like fellow,”May your journey be great! and your mood be greater!” The Suit of Armor let out a laugh as warm as the sun.

Monique was alone in the bookstore having locked up an hour ago. She took a book of the shelf and started to read about Lancelot of Astora. The book sucked her in and she found herself standing before him. She gazed at tvs great knight and she said,

“Good sir, it appears your strength in arms and magic knows no bounds. Who could stand against you?”

Monique curtsies and fights back what Monika wants to do with him.

"I believe I could, Lady."

The voice, like the silken touch of a shroud on ancient marble, came from a very different kind of knight. For indeed the old man did not look the part with his gold-trimmed coat and wide-brimmed hat - but his posture spoke undeniably of nobility. He stepped softly, unhurriedly proceeding to the woman's side, oilcloth cloak billowing out softly with the movement. "You seem to me a scholar, lady. And for this you have my utmost respect." Though easily in his mid to late sixties, this old silver fox could probably charm a snake-dancer out of his trade. His golden eyes were soft as they peered out at her from beneath the shade of his hat - though there was a grimness in them. "But I must advise thee step back. It is no man to which you speak, but a remnant of arcana." He spat the term with a sudden, loathing venom, eyes shooting a glare like razors in the direction of the possessed suit of armor. "An enchanted husk. A perversion of nature which must be ex-"

The Dark Knight's declaration was, however, interrupted by the spine-chilling, liquid chortling that came burbling up from behind him. The exasperated slackening of his shoulders was minute, and his face became a mask of resigned, deadpan irritation. He sighed. From beneath the cloak emerged a thing with glowing, sapphire eyes - the source of the awful laughter. "I THINK THIS SO-CALLED L A D Y KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT P E R V E R S I O N-" The creature said, its voice a gutteral crooning straight from the dankest pits of depravity.

"Aaeion Why must you do this." the knight muttered under his breath, eyes going momentarily unfocused in his frustration with the entity perched on his shoulder.

"SHE IS NO LADY, BUT A HARLOT" Aaeion declared without taking his vacant gaze away from the unfortunate librarian. As he spoke, the creature's face split into a toothy rictus-grin - allowing an overlong, inky 'tongue' to flick out, waggling wildly in the air like a frenzied serpent in an utterly gut-wrenching parody of innuendo.

Just when it seemed that the knight would not intervene, one hand shot up with all the speed and fluidity of the master gunslinger to catch and gasp the tongue, clutching it aloft. Aaeion froze, but made a wordless gurgling sound to voice this sudden but inevitable betrayal.

"Hold your tongue vile thing, or I'll hold it for you." Adelaard intoned softly, never taking his eyes from the unfocused middle-distance where they rested. Aaeion responded to this by undulating in protest, briefly growing a second tongue to flick in the librarian's direction, then degrading into a formless mass which slithered away beneath the cloak like some kind of evil slime.

Adelaard lowered his hand, closing his eyes and massaging them with fingertips for a moment before recovering from the ridiculous interruption - only the sardonic quirk of his eyes hinting that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

"Apologies, Lady." he said smoothly, with no attempt to justify his terrible familiar's crudeness, making up for it with a vaguely apologetic tip of his hat. His voice was a bemused drawl as he peered out at her from the momentarily-held gesture. "I wish to make no assumptions or judgements on thy behalf. I am sure you are quite noble in all thy scholarly endeavors."

The potion witch paled at the knight errant's declaration of war towards the possessed armor. When he first arrived, his cool tone and stony figure didn't shock her as it would most fragile things of her percieved caliber. But his next few words after his introduction were sharpened lead that sunk into her heart, giving her pause.

"Perversion of nature?" And... And was he going to say... "Exterminate?"

Creatia was intrigued about the strange living shadow that appeared on his shoulder to harass the librarian; if not for his clear disdain for the arcane, she may have approached him to ask where it came from. However, those words were a warning for her and anyone of her ilk to stay far, far away from him for their own survival.

And she wasn't willing to die to sate her curiosity. Thus, the tall brunette inched one step back, hoping to leave unseen by him.

"My first impression...Well, I like you as much as anyone else...Maybe a little more, if you know what I mean." He grinned, even giving himself a good chuckle. "All in all, I think we'd get along just fine."

"Hurgh.. ya givin' her that?" Sprite cringed, wrinkling her nose. "But- there's more 'bout ya aside from not bein' able to flirt for shit, ain't there?" Reluctant to come that close, though undoubtedly driven to scan the weird guy by a risky kind of curiosity. Black hair, fair skin, not all that impressive; it was his vibe that was off. "You a Vampy wannabe, man? 'Cause those look lie some sick, sick cheap-ass lenses!" And there her puckered lips curled into a wide sneer. "Kinda cheesy, y'know."

"I can appreciate your ability, ah, willingness more accurately, to criticize," she commented, not elaborating on whether or not she believed everyone deserved it, because if they weren't her, of course they did. "Not everyone's going to like someone really honest. You don't seem like you'd be too bothered by that, though." As that was as close to a compliment as she could get, it was left at that, although she could presumptuously psychoanalyze people all day.

Abbot's eyes lit up at the possibility of another friend- having a sometimes irritating tendency to butt into the conversations of others- and he smiled at Gwendolyn, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cats'.
"Ahhh, you're especially polite~! Many here don't talk as you do," he chirped, his accent unplaceable to anywhere on Earth. It sounded, perhaps, like a mixture between Czech and Pakistani. "You seem like a pleasant human being!"
His smile stood like an unwavering wall, him seeming almost oblivious to his awkwardness.

err first of all your accent is very difficult to understand and second of all you are very awkward but you seem pretty friendly Six would shift on his left foot staring at abbot his weapons locked down on his armor wouldn't mind holding a conversation with you as long as the awkwardness doesn't make itself present