The Proving Grounds (not an RP, actual proving grounds)
 

Ok, this is the real deal, no spamming about muffins, just straight-up, hardcore, balls-to-the-walls RP skizills. The updated rules...

(1) No sign-up set up. This means no pre-set names, appearances, bios, none of that. It should test your RPing skills to make a snippet that reveals all of that, and just ofr a second connect us with that character. Of course, don't go crazy with the details (as FZ said, a little description can go a long way)

(2) Any genre that you want. Some thoughts though...
(a) If you have to make a new race or species, please include some decriptors so we aren't scratching our heads wondering what a Kueoiuw looks like.
(b) Try to describe your weapons using adjectives instead of numbers. I find the imagination has an funner time when it doesn't have to think about how long a 7 foot sword is exactly.
(c) If you do something modern-dayish, try to use general terms when describing guns, we're not all military experts.

(3) If possible, try to make it third-person, as thats what the majority of the posting around here is done in.

(4) No l33t, if I see any, instant grade reducal.

(5) I want quotation marks (""), not Color writing, not *this*, "I want this" as that is what is respected 'round here.

(6) Length isn't that important here, but try to keep it below 2 and 1/2 Word pages.

IHMN and me will be grading, and most of the Elites will probably post their snippets to inspire, me included.

Remember, this is not a bashing thread, this is a judgement grounds.

EDIT: Ok, looks like I'm 2nd then. Heres something I wrote earlier today.

--

The two soldiers stopped in the darkened hallway. The solid oaken doors stood in front of them.

Here we are. At last, here we are.

Everything so far had led up to this point. Who knows how long the squad had been here. Here, time was like the swirling currents of the wind, ever changing, shifting... Day and night warred for the sky in a constant struggle for dominance. Some areas had never even seen the light of day.

Viktor looked at his companion. Thomas was the only one left. The rest were dead. The soldier’s uniform was torn and filthy. He still had his gasmask. Viktor had lost his god knows how long ago. Viktor’s unkempt black hair fell into his face.

He looked at the twisted reflection of himself in the goggles of Thomas’s mask. A smear of blood led across his cheek and down his neck. Viktor could see his apprehension reflected back at him. He looked down at his own uniform. It was caked in blood and grime, some it his own. He knew most of it was the Keeper’s.

Viktor had tortured him for hours to get the information to this place. The Inner Cloister of a being who could send them back.

“Tell me where she is!” he had screamed at him, setting to work on the man with his combat knife, carving with ruthless precision. He’d inflicted suffering on the noble man beyond anything this realm had ever known.

Viktor was beyond caring now. This…place had taken everything from him. If she couldn’t send them back, he would shoot her, and then he would shoot himself.

He checked his assault rifle. He only had 17 rounds left.

“Ready?” he asked. Thomas nodded. The soft clicking of his gasmask was strangely reassuring to Viktor.

He pushed open the door. Soft, otherworldly light spilled into the hall. The two soldiers stepped inside, rifles at the ready.
“Greetings Viktor/Thomas,” the voice echoed around them, saying both names at once, “acolytes of war….”

The voice was like the musical chords of a harp, but to Viktor there was something strange about it. A sinister undercurrent he couldn’t pin down.

“What brings you to see the Lady?” it said, its voice shifting musically, as if laughing.

The room was circular. Light shone down from an unrevealed source above them. In the center of the room was what appeared to be a stone well. The walls were bathed in shadows.

Thomas and Viktor looked around slowly. The voice laughed again. Amidst the laugher Viktor thought he heard screaming.

“Show yourself!” he spat. There was silence, and then she walked out the darkness.

No Psycho, your definetly the first one to be acknowledged, Minor your straddling the 'too-Dumb-to-be-saved' line. Delete your post, and come back with something, I dunno, good.

Psycho, I award you with an A-, it was great, made me want to know the backstory and the minute details. The minus is because it could have been longer (maybe how the squad was lost, or a conclusion to the Lady meeting), but the rest was great. Good start for this thread.

A-. You start a lot of sentences with the character's name or s/he in a row, which isn't a good thing. Also, people don't say "Viktor/Thomas". And lastly, this may just be me, but the ending didn't make much sense, seeing as you never mentioned who "she" was or introduced her.

I don't know if this'll get me in trouble with people or not, but I'll do it anyway.(I'm also Minor's friend, so don't say I'm a n00b defender)

He wasn't trying. He does good in english class when he tries, but that wasn't trying for him. He even told me he was bored. Just wait alittle while and you'll get something good.

Minor ignored this. If you don't follow the rules, you're not showing much for yourself.

I am tempted to participate, but I fear ego damage.

Alright, I told him.

The suspense was intentional. Im glad you liked it! (I've been wanting to pen out part of this story for a while now)

Okay. Since I didn't get too much of a critique, I'll repost this minus the intro and bio etc. Slightly modified. It's short, but I don't believe that length should be criteria for a higher grade as long as the point is made and the writing is clear and defined.

Note: If you read the other post and plot, realize that you can disregard it. The story has obviously changed now that that information is missing and, now, non-existent.

---------------------------------------------------

Dusty rode his bull bareback into the town of Brush Shaw. The massive bull charged and bucked as bystanders cleared out of it's path, but Dusty maintained his seat and his control. He docked in front of Big Jimmy's 'ittle Pub, and hoped that his entrance was as grand as he had hoped for it to be. The bull's large horns were intimidating, it's dripping tongue was goofy, and Dusty dismounted, grinning, tilting his hat to cast a shadow over his eyes.
He sauntered into the saloon, keeping his hand on his whip, the other hand in his pocket, and, tossing a coin to the bartender, asked, "You know anything about where I can find the famed Buster Banks?"
The bartender showed his four brown teeth and rasped, "Right behind you sonny."
Dusty turned and looked the man clear in the stomach. Looking up, he saw a face which was haggard, old, and beaten; the button down shirt was torn and whiskey stained; the weight of the man's stomach alone could exceed 100 pounds. This was definately Buster.
Dusty slid off his stool, but, before he could speak, Buster's voice boomed loud and echoed througout the bar, "I've been lookig for you too!"

Broke, bloody, and shivering in a puddle of whatever dripped from the spitoon, Dusty awoke in the middle of the night. He was already a failure.