Elizabethian RP....

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Elizabethian RP....

Elizabethian RP....

 

Hey everyone! Came up with a new RP idea- anyone up for a a mystery in Queen Elizabeth I's court and beyond? We need lords, ladies, servants, scoundrels and anything in between that can somehow end up in Her Majestys court. There will be a murder (which one of you will commit), a hidden plot and its up to YOU to figure it out. Fill out the character traits below to sign up. I'll start the RP as soon as I get a few people- sign ups will keep going through out it, but the murderer will be chosen out of the people who signed up before the 23- sorry, I'll just need to know which way the RP is going by then.

Anyways, please join and enjoy!!

 

Character Description:

-Name, age

-Title or job

-Apperance

-Personality 

-Strengths

-Weaknesses

-Random Fact 

Heres mine (oh, and no choosing Queen Elizabeth herself!):

Character Description:

-Name, age Hazel Bunnington, 15

-Title or job Lady, just arrived at court as new Lady-in-waiting to the queen

-Apperance Shimmering honey like hair, sea-colored eyes, pale face. Also willowy, but on the short side.

-Personality A bit shy in the begining, but soon warms up to people and though mysterious, everyone finds her rather nice. Loves sewing and doesn't mind reading, but likes being outdoors more.

-Strengths Sharp mind, quick wit helps her get out of tough situations

-Weaknesses Boys. Always sees the best in them.

-Random Fact Hates cats. Has a scar on the bottom of her left cheek from when a gardeners kitty scratched her as a child, but of course keeps it hidden with make up.

submitted by Abigail A., age 13, VT
(May 13, 2014 - 7:43 am)

Oh my gosh, this sounds awesome. Keeping in mind I don't know much about the topic, here goes...

Name, age: Sarabella Clairmont Tuesday (?) Edasten II, 16

Title/Job:  Countess, basically attends fancy parties, etc., although she has some weight to her position and is allowed input on some topics. It helps that she cares and wants to discuss and help with issues.

Appearance: Blonde hair and blue eyes, tall, usually dressed elegantly and decadently. She has some body strength. Her nails are always painted and she likes red lipstick, her face has a cunning and intelligent look, in addition to her conventional beauty.

Personality: Very smart and witty, outspoken, cares deeply about feminism and human rights, but is also a 16-year-old girl who cares about generic teenage girl issues like crushes, appearance, and having fun, can be rebellious against her parents and older siblings when they want her to be more "proper."

Strengthes: Her smarts. She's also well educated and versed in many other important matters, like horseback-riding and self-defense. She's very well liked by the servants and other teenage girls of some status or another. She's not afraid to speak up.

Weaknesses: She doesn't always do what's best for her career and tends to tick off those with more power than her, especially by bringing up things they don't want brought up. She can let her desires as a girl cloud her desires as a countess, i.e., hanging out with her friends instead of going to the meeting she should be going to. She can be mean, even though she tries not to.

Random Fact: She loves reading and is very good at drawing. She knows the servants and is close friends with some of them. She can't sing to save her life.

submitted by Kiki, age 13, USA
(May 13, 2014 - 9:00 pm)

Top!

submitted by Top
(May 13, 2014 - 11:50 pm)

This sounds great! 

-Name, age: Sorah Milan DeTorre, around 14 (to explain the next part, her family worked as spies from a very young age..)

-Title or job: She was a spy for one of the powerful Italian families of Venice, but is now working as a helper to the royal cook, as well as other odd jobs. She may or may not still be working for the Venecians.

-Appearance: Long brown hair in a single braid down her back, large dark chocolate eyes (one of which is blind, although even Sorah herself sometimes cannot tell which one it is), and a long nose. She is rather small, with long nimble fingers and quick feet. She usually wears a simple brown working dress that is easy to run and crawl and climb in, and she sometimes wears a short, dark blue cape with a hood and a black half-mask with a small beak. The mask, apart from a silver charm in the shape of a winged lion, which she wears around her neck, is the only thing from her previous life in Venice before she started spying, and then began working for the royal court.

-Personality: Mysterious is the best word for it. Unpredictable could also describe her very well, sometimes she laughs (a long sweet laugh like bells and rushing water) at nothing, and can be as charming as anyone could ever have thought possible. But other times she may sink into deep thought and not hear a thing even if the cook bangs a pot next to her ear. At times like these, her eyes (both of them) dart all around, as if spying out the tiniest details in her surroundings, and yet she seems not to notice anything, for when the cook clapped his hands in front of her face one time, to see if she was actually alive, she didn't blink once.

-Strengths: Being small and nimble, she can go and do many things larger people cannot, and she can notice small details because her good eye is sharper than a robin's, and her ears are even sharper. She has trained herself not to be outwardly surprised by anything, and has the best "poker face" of anyone she knows of. When she is in one of her charming moods, she could robably talk a dog into giving up its bone, or a rich miser into throwing his gold into a lake, she is that persuasive.

-Weaknesses: Her mysterious past (unknown even to me...) haunts her in her dreams, and she is constantly frightened by it. She has become so accustomed to her blind eye that she will forget to keep watch on both sides with her good eye, and when she is in her secretive, pondering moods she can be very careless.

-Random Fact:  She keeps a small pet bird of unknown species in a cage in her small attic room, and it is so tame that it will walk across her shoulders and fly to sit in her hair.

Ooh! I like this character so much that I might make a few changes and make her a heroine in Crowd sorcery! Sorry it's so long...

submitted by CaptainReed
(May 14, 2014 - 12:02 pm)

That's freakin' awesome.

submitted by Kiki, age 13, Oregon
(May 15, 2014 - 6:58 pm)

Oh, this looks fun! I don't know a lot about Elizabethan England either, so feel free to correct any...historical discrepancies. Part of me wants to make a boy, but I've already formed a character in my mind when I saw this post in the morning, so . . . personal attendant it is. Unless we can make multiple characters? I'm not sure. Anyway if any of you want Lucy to work for you, go ahead and say so.

Name: Lucy Cole

Age: 15

Title or job: She's a maid in . . . one of your households presumably. I guess she would be a personal attendant to one of your characters, those were called either maids or waiting gentlewomen, so one of those. 

Appearance: She's quite tall. Not noticeably thin, because she's quite high up on the servants' rankings, but quite muscular and tanned from her earlier years, which wouldn't be considered attractive back then. She has long brown hair that's usually just in a braid because she doesn't have the time to put it up; her clothes are well-mended and sensible but not noticeably threadbare. When she isn't working or doesn't have a specific goal, she looks a bit awkward -- her posture goes limp and it's obvious that she doesn't really know what to do with herself. When she's working, though, she has a sort of grace around her.

Personality: She's what you would call a 'professional butt-kisser' around authority. Not in the particularly annoying way -- she's usually quite indifferent and doesn't like small talk -- but she's very obedient, gets her work done without much hassle, etc. Around servants, she's about the same with anyone who ranks above her, though with an added snarky sense of humor. As for her equals and inferiors, depending on whether she likes them, she's either kind of a snob or pretty nice and supportive. She's got no desire to dismantle the social structure -- instead, she wants to rise to the top, working around it and becoming a high-ranking servant. Insecure about her appearance, so she chooses to ignore it and focus on her skills and relative intelligence. 

Strengths: Like mentioned above, she's good at adapting to audiences and situations. She's a good liar and fast worker. Quite resourceful and resilient. She can read simple things for the most part. 

Weaknesses: Obviously, she wouldn't know to do most fancy, noble-type things, and she's unwilling to learn anything that doesn't directly interest or affect her and can't do anything until she believes she's capable of it. She's not empathetic unless she wants to be, and she doesn't question things like women's rights and social classes. As for boys, because apparently that's a reoccurring theme, neither boys nor girls are a threat until they compliment her, in which case she spends too much time thinking about that and just acts really confused around them. Like I mentioned before, she's a little clumsy and awkward when she doesn't have a specific goal in mind. 

Random Fact: She's got a thing for music - she's a terrible dancer, but she's quite good at singing and used to do so while she was growing up in the country. Now she doesn't as much. And by the way, she's from a countryside-type place, but she went to work where she does now to make money for her family. (Wow, so original.) Her brother's working as a valet in the same household. 


submitted by FantasyQuill
(May 14, 2014 - 4:35 pm)

I wanna try this! 

Name: Twyla Shipley

Age:13

Title or job: She was a seamstress's apprentice in Ireland until she ran away (or, will) to get new opportunities.

Apprarance: Long stringy brown hair with streaks of black, blue eyes, thin on account of her poor family, and short.  

Personality: Brave, and outgoing. Is rather a hothead and will make comebacks that are likely for her to lose her job. The only reason she held the job with the seamstress is because the seamstress is half deaf. In other words, sassy.

Strengths: Stands up for what she believes in.  

Weaknesses: Stubborn, and only does things if they effect her directly. 

Random Fact:  She treats all "males" the same: like dirt 

submitted by Katie M, age 11, Chelsea, MI
(May 15, 2014 - 3:35 pm)

I think we've got enough characters to stop writing, what do you guys think? I could write a post as soon as we figure out whose servant Lucy is. 

submitted by FantasyQuill
(May 16, 2014 - 11:41 am)

You mean start writing, right? Hazel and Sarabella are the only people who would have servants right now, I think, or you could make up another higher-ranking person?

-Sorah-

It was early morning, far too early to be up, and yet I was awake, waiting to be called down to start cleaning something. I sat quietly in my attic room in the staff quarters of the Queen's Palace of Nonsuch, sitting on the hard wooden floor instead of the almost-as-hard mattress so as to keep from bumping my head on the very low ceiling. My bird hopped around, chirping quietly to himself. His name was Piccolo, which simply meant "little one" in the language of my homeland.

"My Piccolo, wilt thou whistle for me this morning?" I whispered to him, and he obligingly piped up his small voice and made a pretty whistling sound. This was one of the tricks I had taught him on my way to England. It was then that I heard the cook yelling at me from the bottom of the rickety stairs.

"Hurry down, Sorah! There's a floor that won't mop itself down here!" I quickly hurried towards the door, telling my bird, "Stay here and I'll get you some breads, Piccolo. You'll like that, won't you?" I checked myself. "I mean crumbs, although I suppose you wouldn't say no to a whole loaf of bread if you could get one!" I had spoken English for so long that I didn't even have an accent, but occassionally I forgot which words were the right ones.

At the door, I grabbed for my threadbare apron, but I miscalculated where it would be and knocked my wrist heavily on the hook. "Ah! Stop messing with my head, artless eye!" I said vehemently to myself, rubbing my wrist. More carefully this time, I reached for my apron, tied it on, and set off down the stairs, narrowly missing tripping over the kitchen cat at the bottom. It looked like it was going to be one of those days where nothing goes right. at least I had remembered to shut the door behind me, or else Piccolo could have been eaten.

*******

Cappie says zbmw. Zoom the BMW? 

submitted by CaptainRead
(May 16, 2014 - 1:30 pm)

Okay,  I've never done an RP before so idk if this is right.

~Sarabella~

The cold rain pounded itself against my window panes and the wind blew in gusts against the trees outside. All of the ruckus, mixed with the grey skies of early morning, caused a cold, unhappy feel in my bedroom.

Not that I had much to complain of. I sat on the edge of my four-poster, still garbed in my silken night-clothes. I was puffing into a carefully crafted wooden flute, the high, hollow whistles wafting through my quarters. My mother had taught me what was expected of noblewomen since I was little, although she only began strictly enforcing such rules when we moved from our estate to the castle. I guess close proximity to true royalty does that to a person. One of mother's first rules was that if a lady wishes to be taken seriously she must practice a variety of skills. It is another rule that, because there are so many, a woman must rise at an ungodly hour to practice for an ungodly amount of minutes on an ungodly instrument. All while still giving prayers to the being who created something as devilish as 5 a.m.! (I suppose if Mother knew I wrote that I would be obliged to take the next half hour to pray forgiveness. In my opinion, God has has more important things to think about then whether I curse the morning or not. Whatever. I shall pray tonight, at any rate.)

As it happened, however, I was rather obliged to listen to her advice, for it gave me a reason to awake before the sun and take in all of its rosy beauty, spreading over the inky sky like paints spilled on a canvas. (Not that it seemed as though I would have such a privilege today, however.) 

I puffed one more shrill note through my flute, knowing how it would vex my mother, only a room down. I swiftly deposited my instrument back into its case and stashed it on my night table, rising from my bed and approaching my vanity.

Another of Mother's peculiar rules is that a lady never dresses herself. She gets a different women to do it for her. Well, I find it ridiculous to consider nobelwomen china-dolls who can't tie their own corsets. Or perhaps she just delights in having someone else pin her petticoat. I don't know. Still, I disagree on principal. I mean, don't get me wrong, I too have a certain affection for my lady-in-waiting, it just so happens that that isn't enough for me to justify whisking her away from a well deserved rest.

I shed my nightly attire, pulling on the many layers of silks and satins that have no mentionable names. I then turned to my closet. Pulling open the large doors, revealing a rainbow of elegant dresses and gowns, all swishing together like the soft summer breeze you almost don't realize is blowing. I pushed aside a plethora of silky fabrics, finally pulling out a scarlet dress. I tugged it over my head and did up the many buttons, pins, and zippers. I twirled once, allowing the skirt to settle on the floor around my feet.

I then proceded to do my hair. People always say they wonder how we do our hair, and they mean it. Fifteen minutes later my golden tresses were arranged above my shoulders with a mess of bobby-pins and hairspray. Finally, I leaned into the mirror and began to apply layers of make-up. After a few minutes, I picked up my bright red lipstick. I like red lipstick. I think it makes me look fierce. Cunning. Capable. Dangerous. Like a lioness.

I took only a moment to inspect myself. My blue eyes gloomed only slightly lighter than the outdoors. My dress was bedecked with black lace and pearls. I smiled and slipped out of my room and headed to my next gauntlet: breakfast with the nobility.

submitted by Kiki, age 13, Oregon
(May 16, 2014 - 8:45 pm)

Twyla~

I shivered, the enormous boat rocking with the rhythm of the waves. Side to side, side to side. I was beginning to feel seasick. Ugh. I hugged my knees close to me, so there was a lesser chance of anybody seeing me. Side to side, side to side. Ugh. It smelled like brine, rotten food, and rats. One of them came scurrying up to me and sniffed me. 

"Go away, thy filthy animal" I whispered. It strutted away. Thy dirty beast was smiling, I swear. Side to side, side to side. Ugh. I kept telling myself, Twyla, once thou reaches land, sweet opportunities will arise. You will never see thy half blind seamstress again, and Mother and Father won't miss thee at all. England will take thee under her wing.

Oh Holy Father, I hope so. The boat swished again, this time more rapidly to her side. I swore a sailor's oath that any distinguished lady would swoon upon hearing. I had met a fisherman once, who swore oaths as hot as a bonfire. He had taught me a few. The boat rocked once more, this time to thy other side. The barrel I was residing behind rolled away. 

"No, young barrel. Wilt thou come back, I plead?" If not, I shall just find another barrel to reside behind. Thou young barrel did not come back. I rolled behind another one. Side to side, side to side. Ugh. I heard some members of the crew talking. Then the roaring of male feet coming down the oak stairs. I swore silently. Males. So despicable. But now I was in fear of being found. I had been lucky so far. I gnashed my teeth.

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

Okay, so anybody tell me if I used the wrong time period language, or if I got it all mixed up. I probably did. 

submitted by Katie M, age 11
(May 17, 2014 - 7:46 am)

It's pretty good, actually! However, sometimes you use "thou" or "thy" to mean "the", and they actually mean "you" and "your".  So, instead of saying "thy filthy animal", you would say, "thou filthy animal", and "Thy dirty beast was smiling" should be "The dirty beast was smiling". I'm not an expert either, so that's about all I know, but there are some good websites out there that elaborate more. Sorry if this sounds like I'm lecturing or something!

Cappie says hbub. 

submitted by CaptainRead
(May 17, 2014 - 11:04 am)

Is it too late to join?

-Name: Evelyn Monerae

-Age: 14

-Title or job: A lady, since her mother is a duchess.

-Apperance: Long, straight, light blonde hair that hangs down
her back. She has brown eyes, and very pale, milky white skin, and soft
pink lips. Her expression is usually one of mild curiousity, and a witty
smile. Thin, petite, and short. She's often seen wearing dresses of
dark colors, like deep royal blue, green, purple, and brown. 

-Personality: Quiet, yet observant. Very intelligent,
though it doesn't show through unless you know her. Extremely kind
hearted and caring. Is a ready born fighter with a sharp tongue and
quick wit. Willing to defend people.

-Strengths: Her mind. She's a fast thinker, and doesn't let her position or her family's status keep her from people or experiences. 

-Weaknesses: Her parents. They're believe that Evelyn should be a proper lady. They're strict and harsh.

-Random Fact: Loves horses! Her favorite thing to do is ride.
She rides side saddle when people are around, but enjoys riding astride,
and even bare back at times.

submitted by Blonde Heroines Rule
(May 17, 2014 - 2:58 pm)

Thank you so much!

submitted by Katie M, age 11, Thanking
(May 17, 2014 - 3:47 pm)

You're welcome!

submitted by CaptainRead
(May 18, 2014 - 1:16 pm)

~Lady Hazel~

I wasn't supposed to yawn. My mother, God rest her soul, taught me that much.

Thing is, that's really hard when Count So-and-so from some or another prestigous, weathy, or just puffed-up country has been droning on about England's lovely weath and its lovely power and praising the Queen for her lovely this-and-that, all in the hopes of an alliance with King Something-or-Other.

And try as I might, that yawn just came out. 

The Queen sharply at me. Perfect. First day as the new Lady-in-Waiting and I was all ready in trouble. I looked down meekly at the needlepoint I was working one. The awful little kitten I had been assigned seemed to grin a little bit wider. 

But instead of being rebuked as I had expected, the Queen merely smiled. Putting up a hand to stop Lord Nobody from Nowhere, she quipped "Ah, my Lord, your words have kept us entranced for hours. But art thou only as clever as the day is long? For I should not like to exaust your wisdom for this hour- as they say, here today, gone tomorrow. Wil you honor us again with these fleeting butterflies of enjoyment some other time?"

I managed to stifle my grin. Earl of Humdrum (or was Tedium?) bowed and "For you, my wit could never be stifled- for I must only look at you and a hundred-fold of ideas do flow. But if Your Majesty wishes to break the spell she had cast upon me, I will take my leave." He bowed again and left, his retinue of servants meekly following.

The Queen sighed as soon as the door closed on him. She looked at her handful of Ladies in attendance. "Girls, if you have a choice, never be a Queen. For every bit of power, there is ten more pains to go with it."

We all murmured our consensus- though I will bet you none of us had a clue what she meant. We would never be Queen- unless some act of treachery forced us to.

 

submitted by Abigail A., age 13, VT
(May 19, 2014 - 11:36 am)